Santa Sangre

1989 Jodorowsky funk

Rating: 17/20

Plot: A boy is traumatized by some horrible experiences that took place during his young life with the circus involving a tattooed woman, his knife-throwing daddy, and his mother who worships a no-armed woman with the religious cult across the street. Following his release from an asylum, he tries to put his life back together again. That's made difficult when he runs into his no-armed mother who controls him and demands the use of his arms. His childhood sweetheart and a little fellow try to help him out.

It's really the type of movie that makes a plot synopsis pointless which explains the half-hearted effort I gave it up there. This is a psychosexual Freudian (aka Freddian) horror-comedy that is probably unlike anything you've ever seen or in some cases unlike anything you'll ever want to see. My plans were to make Santa Sangre my Oprah Movie Club pick before I got depressed about that whole thing and passed. I'm sure it would have been dug by all. This is Jodorowsky's third best film after Holy Mountain and El Topo, and although it's not as bizarre as those two, it's pretty bizarre compared to everything else. I still chuckle a little when I see this labeled as one of his most accessible. Jodorowsky seems to have had more of a budget to work with in this one, and he uses it to compile some artful visuals and utilize his vivid imagination. Not that he needed much money to help him out anyway. Drenched in film-school symbolism and saturated in cartoon colors and Part-Fellini (probably just the circus thing), part-Psycho, part-Bunuel, and all Jodorowsky, there are scenes throughout this that will linger in the mind for a long time. There's an elephant funeral that has to be seen to be believed, and the choreography and timing required for the scenes where the mother "uses" her son's arms is impressive. There's also a great little person, Jesus Juarez as Aladin. And you get a scene where some actors with Down Syndrome visit a prostitute. Exploitative? Yeah, probably. Original? Definitely. Oh, and there's a scene where a guy peels off his own ear. I'm sorry. I should have warned you all about spoilers before typing some of that. It's a challenge, but it's a thoroughly entertaining one. Shame about the dubbing though. It's also a shame that this guy can't get financing so that the rest of us can see his dreams. I keep reading that he's making a movie, but then I'll see where the Russian producers "just disappeared mysteriously" and then there's no movie.

By the way, I follow Alejandro Jodorowsky on Twitter. Highly recommended despite 95% of his tweets being in a language I don't speak. I think probably Canadian. He's like an advice columnist. One follower asked him, "Any advice for mental clarity?" and he answered, "On Sundays, lock yourself in the house and repeat, incessantly, one word: ass." It's sound advice.

The Man Who Laughs

1928 drama

Rating: 16/20 (Jen: 2/20)

Plot: Based on a Victor Hugo writing, this is the story of the oddly-named Gwynplaine, the son of a lord who pissed off a king. Young Gwynplaine was punished for the sins of his father by having a permanent surgically carved to his face. He's abandoned by gypsies, and while wandering through the snow to look for help, he comes across a baby in the arms of her dead mother. He and the baby eventually arrive at the home of Ursus, a philosopher, and he raises them. Years later, Gwynplaine and blind Dea put on plays as part of a traveling circus. They're in love, but Gwynplaine has low self-esteem because he grins all the time and is apprehensive about marrying his beloved. Meanwhile, an evil jester named Barkilphedro (damn, was Hugo even trying on these names?) is thinking up a plot to get rid of Gwynplaine as part of a ploy to gain favor with the queen.

This movie really could have been cut by thirty minutes without losing anything at all. It's a Paul Leni joint, and there's some of the expressionist set design (especially in a scene where young Gwynplaine wanders past a series of gallows), and a lot of experimental shots and unusual perspectives (most memorably a shot from a Ferris wheel) that he's known for. The Man Who Laughs has also got editing that surprised, reminding me of Battleship Potemkin. I guess that makes sense since Potemkin came out three years before this one, but I was still surprised by the quick cuts, jarring in comparison to most silent movies. There's also a nice texture to Leni's 17th Century England. The old and ominous castle walls, some torture paraphernalia, and statues concealing secret passageways added a moodiness at the beginning of the movie. There are a lot of scenes that go on way too long, but this one has more than its share of great scenes, ones that connect emotionally in a way that doesn't seem typical of 1920's melodramas. I really liked one lingering scene where a clown removes his make-up while Gwynplaine, with his permanent preposterous and grotesque grin, watches. There are a lot of good performances here, especially for the silent era, but Conrad Veidt's performance as the laughing man himself is really impressive. Think about it. You have to portray hurt, despair, fear, happiness, and a variety of other emotions without the benefit of a variety of facial expressions. To look sad with a big goofy grin on your face? It's not easy. And I should know because I spent about two hours in front of my bathroom mirror trying to do just that. I thought it was a great performance.

Admission: I had to give this movie a bonus point because of Homo the wolf, played, according to the opening credits, by "Zimbo." He's blind Dea's dog. I just love that there were title cards that said nothing but "Be quiet, Homo!" or "Where are you taking me, Homo?" There are also some ridiculous "special-ed" effects used with Homo at the end of the movie where it looks like a guy's attacking himself with a really stiff stuffed animal. I often add my own dialogue to silent movies, so of course I spat out a "Get him, Homo!" at that point.