Review: The Museum of Wonders

Text © Richard Gary/Indie Horror Films, 2012
Images from the Internet

The Museum of Wonders
Directed by Domiziano Cristopharo
Elite Entertainment, 2010
99 minutes, USD $19.95
elitedisc.com
MVDvisual.com

”Gabba gabba
We accept you
We accept you
One of us”
– “Pinhead,” by The Ramones

They say it’s not what you have, but rather what you do with it. Thus is the case with this Italian film (with English subtitles). The story has been executed before with varying degrees of success. Let’s see if the plot sounds familiar to you:

A carnival (or in this case, the said Museum of Wonders) is run by a little person (in this case, with Achondroplasia, or Disproportionate dwarfism), who falls for a villainous woman who believes him to be rich, and so marries him. Meanwhile, she’s have a run with the strongman. At the wedding celebration she is welcomed into the group and in a drunken rage, insults everyone. Then it’s the carnies’ turn to dole out a hard comeuppance.

The first time (that I know of), it was Tod Browning’s Freaks (1932), a movie so notorious that it was banned for decades, screened only at special showing until the 1960s, usually at either arthouses or drive-ins. It was then remade as the horrendous She-Freak (1967, produced by schlock-meister David Friedman). Now, the latest variation has come to the surface.

Nearly a sequel – f not a parallel – story to director Domiziano Cristopharo’s English-language House of Flesh Mannequins (2009), a theme of a dark room with glassed in people is a recurring locale.
What made the 1932 version so shocking, which is true to this day, is that real “freaks” were used, meaning pinheads, the legless Johnny Eck, and an actual Siamese twins Daisy and Violet Hilton, joined at the hip (among others). In the 1967 one, the freaks were more on the level of the bearded lady and a skeleton man. For this updated telling, while there is a little person and guy with a withered leg, the unusual amassed company is more made up of those with body modifications, such as multiple tattoos, piercings, and internal inserts (e.g., forehead horns, arm lumps); there is also an amazing sword swallower (who also appears to be the only one of the troupe who is a Yank).


Unlike the previous versions of this story, which were either a gritty noir story or silly ‘60s exploitation, this film has a different aim: it is going to straight-on dream-like reality, filled with philosophical and often obtuse language. Considering how beautifully it is shot and edited, its ambitious reach is hardly surprising. In the deleted scenes, we find that this is the ramblings (or dream) of a homeless drunk man who waxes poetic (sort of like the introduction to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, or perhaps Lemmy Kilmister’s bookending in Troma’s Tromeo and Juliet [1996]?).
 Here is an example of a “Greek chorus”-type of meta narrative that runs throughout the film:

Everything changes dear gentlemen. Everything gets older at the sound of your words. Except for the eyes. They will always be compelled to tell the truth. A truth without palms. Always suspended on a veil of lies. Where life comes true. And where it leaves its fear. Like the hug of a shy clown. A tear for every fragment of infinite won’t be enough. Poor people.

Yes, this leans more towards Fellini or Bergman than Browning or something produced by Friedman. Truthfully, having seen Cristopharo’s previous film, while I wasn’t expecting something on the level of, say, Bloodsucking Redneck Vampires (2004), neither was I expecting something this far up the abstraction ladder. This is nearly poetry, though it left me feeling more like Purgatorio than Inferno (hey, what kin I yell yaz, I’m smart). This is not necessarily the fare I want to spend my Saturday afternoons watching, but it did make a nice change from the joyous inanities of Planet of the Vampire Women and Gums, in which this film fell in the middle of my viewing pile.

Cristopharo gets some fine work from his actors, especially his three leads: Fabiano Lioi as the little person, Marcel; the stately (and model-thin) Valentina Mio as his to-be punished wife (Mio is not mentioned in the film’s imdb site; I wonder what she did to offend the crew), Salome; and Francesco Venditti as the muscular Sansone (I’m guessing that’s Italian for Samson). It should also be noted that in a fantasy sequence, Maria Grazia Cucinotta plays Marcel’s grandmother.

There are three extras on the DVD, all of them of decent lengths, relatively. There is a deleted scene section which is worth viewing, a gag/blooper reel that is okay (but not translated), and a live performance by fire-eater and sword-swallower extraordinaire, Scott “Murrugun” Nelson, who also appears in the film as the sole American.

With a high-end pension for cinematography, writing and direction (and I should mention the wonderful soundtrack, make-up, costumes, sets and lighting, all of which are outstanding), it should be no surprise to anyone that this has won a few festival awards.
Bonus:

Review: House of Flesh Mannequins: The Director’s Cut

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2012
Images from the Internet

House of Flesh Mannequins: The Director’s Cut
Directed by Domiziano Cristopharo
Elite Entertainment; Unearthed Films 2009 / 2012 / 2020
96 minutes, USD $19.95
elitedisc.com
www.unearthedfilms.com
MVDvisual.com

During the 1980s, there used to be a term for films like this, often associated with the likes of Richard Kern and Nick Zedd (who coined the phrase): Cinema of Transgression [Here]. While this particular one may be on the borders of that idiom, as it usually refers to pictures made in New York on cheap cameras, the philosophy is similar: push the envelope way past the point of the mainstream until it becomes its own object of synergy.

Filmed in Los Angeles with a mostly American actors and a crew from Italy, House of Flesh Mannequins dances between reality and the mind, sometimes mixing them both, and not always coherently, but never failing to be interesting.

The basic plotline of this supposedly true story (though no information to that effect appears on search engines) is that 30-something Sebastian Rhys (Domiziano Arcangeli) is a freelance photographer who had survived a twisted childhood thanks to a scientist father who used him as an experiment in sleep deprivation. Now he films bloody accidents and snuff films for an underground audience. Still living in the family building that has since been turned into apartments, Sarah Roeg (the incredibly lovely Irena Hoffman) and her father (Giovanni Lombardo Radice) move into one of the flats. Sarah, way too young for Sebastian (we are introduced to her at her 18th birthday party), pushes herself on him, not knowing toward what his life is directed, but you know she’s bound to find out by the conclusion.

Meanwhile, Sebastian casually slips in and out of reality while watching violent images (that he has filmed) and of home films of his own childhood tortures (recorded by his father), most often while listening to Italian operas, such as Paligacci. A segment of the film is a(n obvious) extended dream sequence where he walks through the titular House of Flesh Mannequins, in a peep-show theater, where people are viewed in various forms of disfigurement (one leg, dwarfism, etc.) or in the process of being mutilated.

Right on the DVD box, it states clearly, “Warning: This film contains scenes of an explicit sexual nature, torture and gore.” Yes, it does. Mind you, this is not the first “straight” film to have full explicit sex in them (e.g., Tinto Brass and Bob Guccione’s 1979 Caligula, Vincent Gallo’s 2003 Brown Bunny and John Cameron Mitchell‘s 2006 Shortbus), in this case including intercourse, oral, masturbation and even a money shot, but they are all very quick takes and highly (and intentionally) unerotic, though somewhat unnecessary, other than to add to the transgression I mentioned earlier (note that none of the main actors in the story are involved directly in these actions).

The film achieves its goal in that’s it is extremely disturbing. I’m not saying it all makes sense, and first-time director Domiziano Cristopharo tries a bit too hard to be a giallo leaning towards Argento-meets-Fulci (more to the former than the latter in style, though in the proto Four Flies on Grey Velvet period, around 1971). In this fashion, the film actually moves at a slow pace, with close-ups, quiet conversations, extreme gore, weird angles, and a series of quick cut bits (usually the more transgressive moments, such as the snuff films) mixed into long scenes with minimal edits. Take out the oddities, and this could be a BBC-snail pace piece, but please keep in mind that it is never, ever, dull, despite it’s usually minimalist shots.

Domiziano Arcangeli

Much of the acting also fits into the low-key giallo framework as well. As you can see by the trailer (below), Arcangeli goes from expressionless (in most scenes) to extreme emotion, especially after he cuts off his beard in the last act. Archangeli, as with many of the actors in this film, have quite the resume, including many in the horror genre, such as Orgy of Blood, Waiting for Dracula, Silent Night Zombie Night and Werewolf in a Women’s Prison; he was also in one of my fave recent indie movies, the western The Scarlet Worm [HERE]. Before 2000, he appeared in numerous cinemas Italiano.

Giovanni Lombardo Radice

Likewise, Radice (aka John Morghen), whose character smokes while having a tracheal stent in his throat, manages to be very menacing, even while being monotone and demonstrating restraint in movement (one of the reasons he won best actor in the 2009 E Tempo di Cultura festival in Rome). His resume includes many classic period Italian horror films, such as City of the Living Dead and Cannibal Ferrox, and was also in Scorsese’s Gangs of New York. Despite his slim build, he looks like he could easily tear you even more than a second one).

Irena A. Hoffman

Hoffman, looking much taller than her 5’9” frame (probably thanks in part to her co-star’s height, or lack thereof) goes between lighthearted to concerned until the end when thing become clear to her. She actually seems the most comfortable in her role in the film, and appears the least to be ac-ting. She’s been in a few indie films, ranging from the acclaimed Moonlight Sonata to the comedic Transylmania, and even made an appearance on Two and a Half Men.

Many of the other actors, however, do some pretty terrible line readings, such as Hollywood legendary memorabilia collector Randal Malone, or Iggy Pop-looking Murrugun the Mystic, though their characters are more peripheral, albeit pivotal.

While being hard to watch in its extremity, the film is also quite beautifully shot, with minimalist sets, bright colors, primary hued lighting, and a sharp sense of contrasts (both color and black & white, and shadows. Oh, and wetness, lots of various types of wetness. It doesn’t surprise me that it’s won a bunch of awards, such as the 2010 Independent Spirit Award at the A Night of Horror International Film Festival (held near Sydney, Australia).

Director Domiziano Cristopharo

This is the Director’s Cut, but not having seen the earlier incarnation, I have to go by this one. A bit different than a number of other films that glorify the hardcore of different types, such as Hostel (2005) or A Serbian Film (2010), there is an artistic bent that goes beyond what is happening in the story, bringing it into the giallo subgenre similar to the ‘70s, but with present sensibilities.

There are a few extras worth noting. One is called “It’s Just Flesh,” which shows some of the F/X prosthetic designs and applications. There are a bunch of intermingling “Interviews” that is quite enjoyable, but I would have liked it better if there was some captions telling who was whom in the crew. The “Behind the Scenes” piece was decent, but nothing earth-shattering. First up, though, are the complete five snuff films that the Sebastian character watches / taped. They are interesting works, but quite honestly, I couldn’t watch the last one, which appears to be a real video of extreme S/M, including someone hanging by their flesh from hooks in their back, a practice that does not interest me at all. When they pulled out an electric drill, I turned it off. For myself, I don’t mind if it’s realistic, but I am bothered by the real.

Is House of Flesh Mannequins a bit pretentious? Yes. Gratuitously violent? Yes. Pornographic? Yes. Powerful? Yes. Interesting? Yes. Definitely art house material and certainly not for the squeamish, but if you have a high tolerance for the winceful, you may be surprised by its beauty, as well.