Review: Rampo Noir (2005)

I remember when I found myself swept up in the 'J-Horror Craze' along with every other conscientious shock seeker of the time.  Standard American fare had become absent of any subtlety or invention, while over in Japan they were cranking out consistently compelling psychological thrillers full of supernatural elements and unpredictable characters.  Many of them could be interpreted in multiple ways leaving you thinking well after the final frames.  They stimulated the psyche, like all great cinema should, proving much more effective than stateside spooks like Scream or Blair Witch.

By the time Hollywood took the hint and started churning out their own remakes and knock-offs, the entire genre was becoming far too formulaic and similar in composition.  If I saw another disenfranchised herky-jerky ghost lumbering toward the camera I was going to go postal, so I turned my back on J-Horror for a long spell.  Rampo Noir came under my radar recently, however, and I’m glad it did - it’s an experience unlike any other.

The anthology proffers four short films based on the writings of Edogawa Rampo (sometimes referred to as the Japanese Edgar Allan Poe) whose stories have fueled cinema in The Land of The Rising Sun for generations.  Unfortunately, having never read his work myself, I cannot comment on how faithful these adaptations are to the source material.  Nevertheless, I can say they are unique, unconventional and the directors involved obviously took great care to bring these imaginative fabrications to life.

The first and shortest segment, ‘Mars Canal’, is a narrative-free piece by Suguru Takeuchi.  A naked man stumbles through the wilderness.  Brief edits of shadowed naked bodies in conflict disturb the beautiful pastiche before he collapses at a mirrored lake. The lake seems to represent some portal for this man’s transgressions.  The End.

The second segment, ‘Mirror Hell’, directed by Akio Jissoji, is a little more linear.  A detective investigates the deaths of some beautiful tea maidens whose faces have inexplicably melted.  The gumshoe eventually links their demise to a mirror crafted by a local artisan who is consumed (quite literally) by his quest for perfection.  The subdued photography underscores the dark theme and some strong S&M imagery is utilized to startling effect.

The third and most controversial piece is entitled ‘Caterpillar', by Japanese extremist Hisayasu Sato; best known abroad for the cannibal madness that was Naked Blood.  The story relates the perverse relationship between a war-ravaged soldier and his loving wife.  The serviceman has lost his limbs in battle and willingly surrenders to his mate's sadistic whims and his own dissolution.  Graphic, to be sure, but the psychological implications of their strange alliance is even more disconcerting.  Sato's seditious sensibilities are far more reserved than usual and he crafts something indisputably visionary.  Love doesn’t always play by the rules in this powerful presentation.

The final segment, ‘Crawling Bugs’, is helmed by manga artist Atsushi Kaneko.  Not surprisingly, it is the most surreal offering, saturated in lush vivid colors that augment the tale of obsession.  A man holds an unhealthy fixation for the actress he chauffeurs. Phobia and dementia soon eclipse his reality culminating in a spectacularly appalling climax.  The final repulsive scene leaves you breathless and should surely linger in memory.

Rampo Noir is a noted departure from the J-horror I had come around in recent years to trivialize.  The artistic arrangement begs the viewer to immerse himself in its hallucinatory structure.  Challenging, visually arresting, erotically charged, exquisitely composed and refreshingly void of the usual trappings.  It unapologetically dives into the dark recesses of the mind to bring Edogawa Rampo’s peculiar nightmares to fruition.  The Japanese are long renowned for breaking the boundaries of conventional storytelling; Rampo Noir, however, manages to feel quite methodical in its madness, striking a disquieting chord in the process.

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The Art Of Horror

 

The Nude Vampire (1970)

Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things (1973)

A Virgin Among The Living Dead (1973)

Squirm (1976)

 Dawn Of The Dead (1978)

 Antropophagus (1980)

 The Evil Dead (1981)

 The Prowler (1981)

The House By The Cemetery (1981)

Aenigma (1987)

Review: Don't Go In The House (1980)

Don’t Go In The House is the first of only two features from director Joseph Ellison and his only Horror film, unfortunately for us.  The 1980 creepfest chronicles a young man’s descent into madness after the death of his abusive mother.  Ellison borrows elements from the case of everyone’s favorite mama’s boy, Ed Gein, and gives them his own fiery spin.  It’s a morose, unforgettable film that kindles with a macabre sensibility and smolders with real dread.

In the preface we see young Donny victimized by his domineering mother, whose favorite form of discipline is holding the boy’s arms over an open oven flame. Needless to say, years later, the young man can’t look sideways at even a candle without getting the willies.  One day Donny witnesses a coworker erupt in flames on the job and the troubled man can only stare on in morbid fascination.  After getting reprimanded by his boss, he returns home to find that his maternal oppressor has finally kicked the bucket. Realizing the freedom this affords him to pursue his own interests, he commences to playing loud music and jumping up and down on the furniture before moving on to far more nefarious activities.  Let's just say the disturbed man’s idea of “warming up” to people soon takes an all too literal turn.

Once director Ellison ropes us in with the first shocking sequence, he backs off and the focus commendably shifts to the psychological horror of it all.  He effectively portrays the protagonist’s deepening psychosis brought upon by his abuse. Despite the heinous acts being committed, the viewer will likely find himself sympathetic to Donny’s weakening grasp on reality.  Dan Grimaldi’s sincere performance upstages the derivative nature of the story and packs more emotional depth than the average slash-and-hack.  Sure, some hearty suspension of disbelief is required at times, but nothing too loopy to really fume over.

Watch as Donny hears mother's imposing voice in his head; dons an asbestos suit and grills his dates; awkwardly attempts to socialize and pick up women; suffers feverish flashbacks; goes disco dancing and lights up the dance floor; and later, completely loses his mind.

The effects in Don't Go In The House are sparse, but pretty well done. The first fatal flambeau particularly grabs your attention and the charred corpses Donny later surrounds himself with are suitably creepy. As mentioned, the set pieces are relatively few, however, this helps to keep the perspective on our subject's increasing dementia, which is honestly the most intriguing aspect of the film. The cinematography also lends itself well to the proceedings and there's some inventive camerawork to keep things visually interesting. Joseph Ellison’s firm reign never lets things drag and the film deftly builds in suspense. There are a few noticeable hiccups production wise, but in the realm of low budget 80's Horror it's all par for the course.

Some dark humor works into the narrative to occasionally lighten the somber mood, always at the killer’s expense, which thankfully keeps things from ever feeling camp.  The bleak ending is chilling and memorable, and some of the more shocking images stay with you after the final reel.  There's a tacked on coda that does feel somewhat out of place, even if it does reinforce the recurring cycles of violence this film makes comment on.

Somewhere between films like Deranged, The Driller Killer and Maniac (all recommended) lies this quirky, well conceived piece of celluloid that rarely gets the credit it deserves.  If you’ll allow one more pun - it is a spark of genius.

The Sunday Funnies

Mad Magazine 1969

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Frankie Goes Mad

Mad Magazine, September 1964

The Ties That Bind