INTERSTATE (Jour de colère, 2024)

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A sad kratki predah između izvikanih naslova za koje ste svi čuli i već ih odgledali. Evo vam jedan intermeco s nečim što bi vam sigurno promaklo da vam upravo sad i ovde na njega ne skrećem pažnju.

Ako pažljivo pratite ovaj blog, onda ste ovde prvi put čuli pohvale za film SALOUM, mnogo pre nego što je postao dostupan na netu, jer sam ga gledao na nažalost u međuvremenu upokojenom festivalu KURJA POLT u Ljubljani. Taj kratki osvrt na odličan akcioni horor imate OVDE.

            Tom prilikom sam pohvalio reditelja po imenu Jean Luc Herbulot i kazao da sve njegovo treba gledati. E, pa evo nove prilike!

            Engleski prozaičan i nezanimljiv naslov INTERSTATE, kao i skoro isto toliko otrcan francuski naslov (koji znači DAN GNEVA), skrivaju najnoviji masama dostupni film Žana Lika Erbuloa! Izrazito neizvikan, neupadljiv, kao stvoren da prođe ispod radara: u ovom trenu na IMDB-u nema nijedan juzer komentari, i NIJEDAN RIVJU – ali zato upravo dobija osvrt i preporuku od mene.

            Elem, iako ovo nije na nivou postignuća SALOUMA, radi se o filmu sa prepoznatljivim, osobenim DNK-om njegovog autora: spoj krimi-akcije i natprirodnog horora, dinamično i energično režiran, s mnogo više duše i metafizičkog ugođaja nego što relativno prozaičan zaplet zahteva, sa harizmatičnim, baš odličnim crnim protagonistom, s egzotičnim je ne sais quoi koji ga izdiže iz sličnih rutinskih Odradek-odrađivanja, i s mestimičnim neviđenim i nadahnuto jezivim kadrovima-scenama-idejama.

            Premisa: crni plaćeni ubica koji u Belgiji radi za jednog velikog Italo kriminalca sažali se na osobu koju je trebalo da ubije jer je krao od ovoga; umesto toga, pusti ga, i reši da uzme te ukradene pare za sebe i svoju ljubavnicu koja Žabaru pripomaže u trgovini belim robljem (čitaj: ženama silom prodatim u prostituciju), a koju igra Asia Arđento, prirodno ubedljiva kao Eurotreš fuksa iz krimogenog sveta. Crni Dobrica joj javi da pokupi prnje i pare i da bega, i da se sutra nalaze Ona Zna Gde.

Međutim, tokom noćne vožnje ka mestu sureta, on sreće u jednom svratištu studenta šmokljana, patetičnu kreaturu izgubljenu tu, i reši da i njega poveze deo puta, tim pre što je postao pospan, pa će mu, kao, malo društva i ćaskanja dobro doći (kao u HITCHERU). Ali, dok si reko „Mladež“, ta benigna situacija izvrgne se u mračniju i jeziviju, a crnja će brzo shvatiti sve dimenzije užasnog naravoučenija iz izreke „Nijedno dobro delo ne prolazi nekažnjeno“!

Mada film prebrzo otkriva svoje karte, već negde oko 30. minuta, ja vam dalje od ovoga ipak neću prepričavati. Ali kazaću da mi je ovaj DAN GNEVA zagolicao nekoliko erogenih zona: mačo junak nežnog srca u akciji (kao u PROKLETIJAMA), noćna vožnja koja završava na gadnom mestu (priča „Noćenje“: DIVLJA KAPELA), 

noćna vožnja s autostoperom gde se tokom razgovora otkrivaju neke zlokobne namere (priča „Mladež“ : DIVLJA KAPELA), 

te fetiši prema noćnim vožnjama pustim drumovima (LOST HIGHWAY), prema uopštenim pričama o spiralnom propadanju debelo grešnih likova, a još konkretnije prema varijaciji toga u besprekornom spoju krimi-triler-noar-akcije i horora u ANGEL HEART (na kojega se ovde u bitnoj sceni za moj ukus i preexplicitno aludira).

Ocena gore (mlaka trojka) jasno pokazuje da ne treba očekivati remek na nivou ANĐELOVOG SRCA (petica ko suza). Takvo nešto ne znam da li ćemo IKADA više videti... Elem, prva polovina ovog filma je baš baš odlična, ali avaj, druga nije na tom nivou, kao da se sva energija i inovativnost ispucala na početku, 

i onda ta vožnja počne da šlajfuje, da biva sve manje originalna i uzbudljiva, prelazi u relativno predvidive i konvencionalne vode, nizak budžet i slabi sporedni glumci postaju obasjani dnevnim svetlom, a sve to završava se, mada dosledno temi, ipak u oblasti rutine i na granici MEH-a.

Takođe, budite spremni na to da horora ovde ima manje nego u SALOUMU, da je ta bizarna nesrazmera između dva disparatna žanra verovatno deo razloga što se ovo nije moglo dobro prodati ni ljubiteljima akcije (jer ima previše fantazije i gnusobe) ni ljubiteljima horora (jer previše je krimogenog polusveta, pištolja, para, kurava, jurnjave i tučnjave za jedan film strave), pa je zato i završilo ispod radara i jednih i drugih.

Neka vas moje gornje ograde ne spreče da mu date šansu. Na ovu sušu i bedu gde se bedna prežvakavanja NIČEGA prodaju kao hiper-hajpovani „horori“, čak i jedan krnji, skrnavi, poludupasti film poput ovog nudi barem POLA DOBROG DUPETA, što je više nego što ćete dobiti od velike većine svih tih longlegsa, oditija, romulusa, vrana, i ostalih ributova. A sigurno će vam dati barem neke trenutke, ako ne i čitave scene, ugođaje, ideje vredne pažnje… i košmara.

Inače, Erbulo ima već gotov i novi triler-akcijaš: izgleda da u njemu nema nimalo horora, ali ko zna? Svakako zvuči dovoljno zanimljivo da ću ga obavezno pogledati prvom prilikom. Evo: 

UK-based sales and distribution company Blue Finch Films has acquired worldwide rights to “Zero,” an action thriller directed by Jean Luc Herbulot, according to Variety exclusive report. Herbulot is known for his 2021 TIFF Midnight Madness selection “Saloum.”

“Zero” has been selected for the first wave of the Sitges Film Festival, with further festival announcements anticipated. The film’s plot revolves around two Americans who wake up in Senegal with explosive devices strapped to their bodies and a 10-hour deadline to discover why. Guided by a mysterious voice on the phone, they must complete a series of tasks that unintentionally wreak havoc in Dakar. Set against a backdrop of increasing anti-Western sentiment, the protagonists race against time for survival and redemption.

Više o tome OVDE.

LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL (2023)

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Hajp je, naravno, bio prevelik, kao i inače što biva kad jedan film predugo vremena provede na festivalima, gde su i publika i kritičari daleko naklonjeniji i spremniji da zažmure na jedno oko pred svačim što iole prebaci prosek, makar i za dlačicu, pa ga napumpaju do remek-dela ako bar malo nije loše. Konkretno, ovaj film je duže od godinu dana išao po festivalima i gradio hajp: ja sam ga tražio još za prošlogodišnji Slaughter Fest, i nisu mi ga dali zato što su hteli da evropsku premijeru imaju na nekom većem, jačem festivalu od doljevačkog.

            Dakle, LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL je jedan gledljiv, uglavnom prijatan filmić, u kojem su dobre i loše stvari promućkane tako da to sve deluje sasvim Ok ako se ne zamarate naročitim razmišljanjem i analizom. Fino je dok traje, a kad zbrljekne kraj, odmah krene špica, i onda, šta sad, tu smo gde smo…

            Dobra je fora sa Đavolom (tačnije, jednim od nižih demona) koji se pokazuje, iz jedne opsednute devojčice, tokom nekakvog drugorazrednog tok šoua krajem 1970-ih, jer đavo je šoumen, voli reflektore i da se pravi važan; odlična je, vrlo jeziva ta devojčica; glavni lik, Dustabanlijan, solidno nosi film; epoha je ubedljivo rekreirana na mikro-planu (kostimi, frizure); ima tu solidne napetosti, neizvesnosti, hintova, pa na kraju i (inkongruentnog) spektakla…

            Međutim! Očigledno je da je oduševljeni narod pregladneo za dobrim hororom kad je spreman da zažmuri i na neke prilično nezanemarljive probleme i proglašava ovo izuzetnim, genijalnim filmom, a on je daleko od toga. Šta ovde nije dobro?

            Logika zapleta: zašto bi se đavo uopšte ukazivao pred višemilionskim auditorijumom – i šta je na kraju time postigao SPOJLER: što je POBIO neke grdne ljude? Sva poenta tog Zavodnika je – da zavodi ljude, da im uzima DUŠE, a ne ŽIVOTE (tela).

            A ako je u preokretu otkriveno da nije đavo pobio ljude, nego Rastamalkijan, opet mi je to – na vr’ brdo za kašiku pilav. Onoliki spektakl i akcija, da bi smestio apsu/ludaru JEDNOM liku da najebe? Pa što je on toliko bitan? Šta se postiglo time?

            Nedosledna forma: faund futidž samog šoua svako malo se secka pauzama, u kojima gledamo snimke koji definitivno nisu „faund“; a pred kraj i ono što deluje da je faund SPOJLER zapravo nije faund nego je prikaz iznutra onoga što se javlja Mastablastijanu.

            Plus, možda sam u manjini, ali meni je neubedljivo delovao i ritam izlaganja i ponašanje našeg voditelja, Dastinmalkijana: toliko je spor i nevešto, ne-profi vodi razgovore da teško da bi opstao i na TV „Hepi“, a kamoli na američkoj televiziji, gde su barem 1970ih postojali neki standardi.

            Zatim: devojčicu je trebalo više i bolje upotrebiti; fenomene i manifestacije posednutosti originalnije prikazati; masku njenog lica osmisliti bar malo manje derivativno u odnosu na Lindu Bler; činjenicu da to ide na televiziji i to pred živom publikom trebalo je više i bolje upotrebiti; baš kao i period (zašto se ovo zbiva pre 50 godina? i zašto niko od učesnika ne pravi ni najmanju referencu na THE EXORCIST, koji je u to vreme vladao kao vodeći kulturni fenomen?); 

možda se moglo i nešto originalnije naći nego ta storija sa „prodajom“ žene na samrti radi popularnosti, a taj kraj, s VFX pirotehnikom koja baš žestoko odudara od dotadašnje estetike (iako lepo izgleda – ali kao da je iz nekog drugog splajsovanog filma), i taj twist, pa, meh… rekoh već gore.

            Sve u svemu, zabavno za nezahtevne, ali prilično nedomišljeno i nedorađeno za probirljive – mada, definitivno gledljivo, na ovu horor sušu.

WHEN EVIL LURKS (2023)

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Da sam dobio 200.000 din svaki put kad me je neko u zadnjih mesec dana pitao „Gule, jesi gledo ovaj film WHEN EVIL LURKS, kakav je, valja li?“ – sad bih već bio milioner!

Valjda se internetima proširila fama da je to nekakav horor strašno šokantan, žestok, uznemirujuć… Pa, ok, nije da u ovom Argentincu nema gadnih stvari, a ni đeca ih nisu pošteđena kao u američkim filmovima, ali to teško da je kvalitet po sebi.

U svakom slučaju, od reditelja precenjenog ATERRADOS / TERRIFIED dolazi još jedan preterano hajpovani horor sa odličnim, gadno-gnjecavim maskama i splaterom, sa nekoliko jezivih, inventivnih horor scena ili bar zamisli, sa spremnošću da se ide u morbidariju i beznađe – ali to, ponovo, kao i u prethodnom mu filmu, dolazi u klimavoj dramaturgiji, sa uninvolving likovima i sa, ponovo, nedovoljno definisanom „mitologijom“.

Kao što u TERRIFIED nismo imali ni naznaku ko/šta je ono čudo koje spopada (nezanimljive) ljude u jednom predgrađu, tako i ovde nemamo ni nagoveštaj o tome koji i kakvi demoni (iz koje mitologije, if any) opsedaju ljude, i kako ih biraju, po kom principu, ulaze li u bilo koga, bilo kako, ili s nekim odabirom, intencijama – da li ih je iko ikako prizvao, dal doslovno, invokacijom, dal prenosno, nekim zlodelima i gresima. Ništa od toga ne znamo. Oni su tu, i ulaze u neke ljude, a u neke ne, i to je već prihvaćeno kao premisa na nivou celog društva.

Plus, demoni (ili, prostije, Zlo) ovde nemaju moralističku/metafizičku motivaciju kao u skoro bukvalno svim filmovima o posednutosti od EXORCISTA pa nadalje do danas: odavno je prihvaćena konvencija da Demon zapravo hoće da pažljivo odabranu Osobu s Greškom iskušava (čačkajući taj neki greh iz dalje ili bliže prošlosti), navodi na Zlo, na Odricanje od Boga, odnosno da indirektno nevernika kroz suočenje s Demonom privoli dobrom Bogu jedinome, amin.

Ništa takvo nemamo ovde – i to je donekle osvežavajuće. Zlo ovde nikoga ne kuša, a ponajmanje teži da nekog nepoćudnog Ateistu na kraju natera da prigrli Majčicu Crkvu i da joj donira sva svoja zemaljska blaga (jer Crkvi nikad dovoljno blaga! vole popovi/trutovi raskoš, pa to ti je!). Zlo je ovde primarno, primordijalno, pagansko u svojoj banalnoj prostodušnosti: ono će da vas natera da ubijete svoje najvoljenije, a onda i sve ostale, i to je sve. Crkve su mrtve, bog je mrtav, kaže nam se u filmu. A Demoni se još koprcaju, mada zašto u trulim ljudskim telima, nije najjasnije.

Dobro to počinje, pucnjima u noći, i nalaženjem jednog čudno napola presečenog ljudskog tela; ali kako se dalje razvija, storiteling sve više zavisi ili od proizvoljnosti ili od zaista imbecilnih odluka likova, od kojih šnjur nosi ta da jednog gnusno trulog posednutog debeljka prosto bace u prikolicu i odvezu jedno 400 km dalje od svojih kućeraka, i da ga tamo bace u jarak, pa nek neko drugi trlja glavu s njim – kao da je to lipsala srpska svinja koju srpski domaćin odveze da baci u obližnju srpsku reku ili mrtvaju da trune, a ne Zlo inkarnisano koje će da se širi po tuđem komšiluku.

I nakon toga imamo trpeti nesnosno iritantne glavne likove (dvojicu braće) i njihove debilne odluke i ponašanja (pravilo: „nikako ne raditi ovo!“; *debil: uradi; sranje usledi; i stalno tako, sve do kraha), a sve što nam je motivacija da istrajemo u tome jeste – koju li je neprijatnu zamisao reditelj imao sledeću na pameti. Pritom, nadalje, njegova imaginacija je sve tanja, narativni drajv sve mlitaviji, a njegovi pokušaji da ga oživi i prodrma prilično su jeftini, previše vulgarno melodramatični za moj ukus.

Školski primer ovoga: u jednoj sceni se dešava jedno 5-6 stvari istovremeno, niko nikog ne sluša, i svi se deru, ili jauču, ili se svađaju – došo bivši muž bivšoj ženi da pokupi svoju nebivšu decu, ali bez najave, i dok se ona i njen novi mužić raspravljaju s ovim, istovremeno njegova ćerčica prilazi preblizu kućnom kučetu u koje je ušlo Zlo, dok istovremeno (!) njegov autistični sin sve više neartikulisano njače i jauče, i onda kuče zgrabi zavrat curicu i odnese je odatle – i onda kreće jurnjava po komšiluku za njim, pri čemu se na sceni pojavi i policija, i svi se opet deru na sve, a autista i dalje njače i zavija, a majka uplakana urliče i vapije do nebesa, a tatko se raspravlja s pajkanima, a kuče juri dalje s curom kao s lutkom u zubima, i tako dalje i tako bliže… Ukratko, prava jedna sinišopavićevska zavrzlama i ujdurma, jedna usiljena frenetičnost koja je više iritirajuća nego zastrašujuća.

A nešto nalik toj presudi može se nalepiti i na čitav film: njegove narativne i motivacijske nekoherencije i proizvoljnosti više iritiraju nego što zastrašuju – iako, ponavljam, efekti maske su odlični, i ima tu nekih nadahnutih gadosti i krvopljusa, i rediteljskih egzibicija, i mračnih (nerazrađenih) idejica, zbog kojih ovo vredi pogledati, ali sa smanjenim očekivanjima.

P.S. Kad smo već kod opsednutosti demonima, obaveštavam vas da još nisam pogledao THE EXORCIST: BELIEVER (2023), i ne znam kad ću. Treba da se nađem u zaista posebnom moodu za hate watch, jer sam apsolutno siguran, na neviđeno, da je film neopevano govnište: počinitelj prethodne tri HELOVIN travestije može od te ionako pipave priče, na kojoj su se i daleko veštiji i umniji saplitali, da napravi samo paradu kiča i budalaština. To nema teorije da bude više od ** (2), u najboljem, a verovatno je više nešto kao 1+.

HAXAN (1922): STO GODINA KASNIJE

Prošle godine bila je stogodišnjica od premijere jednog od najvažnijih i najuticajnijih hororičnih klasika nemog filma, švedske VEŠTICE (Haxan). Pisao sam o tom delu opširno u mojoj studiji o Đavolu na filmu FAUSTOVSKI EKRAN (2006), a pisao sam, ponovo (ali sasvim drugo, drugim rečima, iz drugog ugla), prošle godine, i za najbolji svetski horor magazin, RUE MORGUE.

            Malo niže, ekskluzivno na ovom blogu, sada možete pročitati taj tekst, ako ga niste u MRTVAČKOJ ULICI.

            Inače, ovaj moj tekst nominovan je nedavno za uglednu nagradu, Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Award, u kategoriji NAJBOLJI ČLANAK (BEST ARTICLE).

            Dakle, pročitajte ga, pa ako vam se svidi, a i ako ne, GLASAJTE ZA MENE – jer ovo je nagrada koju dodeljuje NAROD!

            Vrlo je jednostavna procedura – objasniću je sasvim ispod, posle članka.

            Ali prvo, evo tog članka, originalno pisanog za RUE MORGUE #205.

 

 

Benjamin Christensen’s Hӓxan, the film which cast its spell a hundred years ago, still works its dark magic

 

HEX OF THE CENTURY

 

Dejan Ognjanović

 

 

A century ago the art of cinema was still young, but becoming ever more conscious of its possibilities. Visionary artists had a fresh, powerful tool at their disposal to paint with, and they used moving images and flickering interplays between the light and the dark to portray new, unseen worlds. Some of Europe’s greatest filmmakers of the time, though unrelated to one another, and without a conscious intention to do so, actually brought the nascent horror cinema to adulthood by defining the basics of its language. It was achieved through four masterpieces which premiered within two years from one another. Three of them were German. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) exemplified the ability of cinema to depict the distorted, irrational world of nightmares. Golem (1920) embodied the possibilities of expressionistic painting with darkness and shadows which served as a visual (but also thematic) template for later Universal’s horrors, starting with Frankenstein (1931). Then came Nosferatu (Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens, 1922) which spread the stylized studio-shot horrors into the real-world’s exteriors of forests, castles, mountains and seas. Finally, 1922 also brought a film as accomplished and important, yet in many ways apart from the above – Hӓxan, also known as Witchcraft Through the Ages.  

 It was the third and by far the most ambitious film by the Danish director Benjamin Christensen: so ambitious that it took him more than two years for research and preparation, so demanding that it required a new, special, state-of-the-arts studio, so controversial in subject and approach that he could find no backers in Denmark for it, so he ended up making it with Swedish producers: as a result, its title remains embedded in history as the Swedish Hӓxan, instead of Danish Heksen…

 

By any name it is a powerful piece of cinema with a lasting legacy. Its rerelease in 1941 was accompanied by William Sieverts’s book Witchcraft and Superstition Through the Times. In 1968 it was reedited by Antony Balch into a version featuring jazz score and narration by the cult author William S. Burroughs. In 1999 the makers of The Blair Witch Project named their production company after it – Haxan Films. The Norwegian black metal band Mayhem used a frame from Hӓxan depicting Devil for the cover of their 2004 album Chimera…

 

What is it that makes this film still relevant a full century later?

 

Simply put, it was and remains revolutionary in at least three major respects.

 

 

Documentary Horror

 

First of all, Hӓxan was an early, pioneering mixture of horror and documentary. Conceived as a cultural-historic lecture on the dangers of delusions, it used moving images to describe the gruesome persecution of witches and the causes behind it, such as the belief in demons and devils, but also stressed the psychological factors behind it all. Yes, the prologue, about world-wide demonologies, may be too general for today’s audiences (though they can spy some familiar faces there, like Pazuzu), and truly, the epilogue about modern-day neuroses dated poorly and was rightfully criticized even upon the premiere, but those odds and ends are easily overshadowed by the film’s real meat – its large middle portion, which depicts the medieval superstitions attendant to the witches and how they were dealt with by the officials of the gynocidal society.

 

The horrors in this concept are twofold: on one hand, the supernatural frights evoked by the flying witches, Sabbaths and devils, and on the other, the very real, historically attested terrors of torture at the Inquisition. Hӓxan is a “documentary” which obeys the rule of “Show, don’t tell!” And so, it visualizes both types of horror – surprisingly, with equal success.

 

Those re-enactments are where the real drama and real cinema reside: folk magic, strange broths, animal skeletons, human body parts used together with snakes and frogs for magic potions, the hexing power of urine (!) and so much more, all of it derived from Christensen’s research into the old books on demonology, like the notorious 1487 Inquisitors manual Malleus Malleficarum (Hammer of the Witches), his main source, which, one should note, was not available at the time in mass-market annotated paperbacks, like it is today.  

 

In his aim to be as realistic and authentic as possible, the director was aided by the prop master, Richard Louw, who created the sets and torture instruments based on the medieval designs. There is no need to see them in action, as they strike the unfortunate flesh: the very sight of many of those sharp, spiky screws and pliers is enough to send chills down one’s spine (but modern audiences will remember seeing some of these items applied in Ken Russell’s The Devils, 1971). Also, the investment in a new studio was a risky bet, largely responsible for making this the most expensive film made at the time in any Scandinavian country, but it paid off in spades because the meticulous high contrast lighting and photographic effects created by the DP, Johan Ankerstjerne, surpassed all that Hollywood’s expensive bells and whistles could achieve at the time. Thanks to Christensen’s obsessive, perfectionist attention to detail, Hӓxan remains a first-rate visual feast in all its aspects, whether realistic or phantasmagoric.  

 

Highlights among the latter include innovative visual effects of dozens of witches on broomsticks flying above the village to consort with the Devil, and the actual Black Sabbath which includes grotesque demons in convincing full-body costumes, masks and highly effective prosthetic facial make-up for their leering close-ups. The shocking details in this sequence ranged from female nudity (no longer shocking today) through blasphemous acts like trampling and spitting on the cross and kissing Satan’s behind (which many would find offensive even in this day and age) all the way to that evergreen shocker, a newborn slaughter. Yes, of course the baby bleeding above the steaming cauldron was a puppet, just like it was in A Serbian Film ninety years later, but tell that to the appalled audiences lulled by the apparent realism preceding it.

 

If it were merely a documentary on witchcraft, Hӓxan might’ve remained a forgotten title, known only to a select few fanatics. Its effectiveness, however, is rooted in the fantastic scenes of the Sabbath, and even more – in the palpable atmosphere of superstition and dark forces at work, even when invisible. Especially when invisible. Christensen created a realistic setting through minute set-design, props and costumes which are surrounding good actors and their characters’ plausible motivations, resulting in a mise-en-scène in which forces of evil can be expected to rise from the shadows at any moment. The sense of an all-pervading paranoia is palpable. These were indeed the Dark Ages, and the director clearly shows why.

 

 

Sympathy for the Devil

 

The second revolutionary aspect of Hӓxan worth stressing is its portrayal of the Devil, depicted here as ambiguous and even sympathetic.

 

In terms of iconography, the Devil appears with small horns and big, pointed ears, his face and body recognizably humanoid, a long tongue protruding lasciviously from his mouth. Basically, he is the pagan Pan as demonized by the Christians: a deity of carnal pleasures. He is a tempter and a seducer, and all the sins that he instigates in this film have to do with sexuality: a woman buys a love potion from another in order to seduce a friar, a novice is tormented by visions of a young woman in his monastic cell, not to mention the Sabbath’s orgiastic abandon. Devil, as seen here, is hardly supernatural: he is all too natural, arising as he does from the body’s basic instincts. As Pinhead would say, “There is no Good, there is no Evil; there is only Flesh”.

 

At least two aspects of Hӓxan’s Devil make him different and special.

 

Firstly, the Devil is treated as a metaphor, not a power actually existing outside of humans and their interrelations. This is most obvious in the fact that the entire Black Sabbath sequence is presented as a “confession” of a clearly innocent old woman, extracted under torture. All the wildly memorable images of Hӓxan’s most celebrated sequence are coming from a frightened person who is telling her tormentors what they want to hear. The film is critical towards the medieval superstition and ignorance, and makes a point of showing the use of potions and ointments as another possible source of “visions” attributed to the Devil. At one point the crone confesses that her frail old body allegedly gave birth to a host of demons: Christensen shows two grotesque imps (probably children in full-body costumes) crawling from underneath her skirts. It is as if he is saying: if you could believe this, you could believe anything.

 

Secondly, and more subtly, this film’s sympathy for the Devil is expressed in the fact that he is played by none other than by Benjamin Christensen himself. And quite memorably so. His sudden appearance, from pitch-blackness, behind a book that an abbot is reading, must be one of the most effective jump-scares of all times. He is lewd, he is playful, provocative, he is the master-entertainer. He is the one that guarantees ticket sales, not the pious priests – none of whom are to be seen in this anticlerical film anyway. And our master of ceremonies, our Director, clearly embraces the exploitation behind his lectures and entertainment behind his sermons, identifying with the archetypal rebel and admitting, as William Blake did writing about Milton, with his meta-cinematic wink, that all artists are “of the Devil’s party”.

 

 

Sympathy for the Witch

 

Unlike many of his contemporaries, like the scholar Montague Summers or author H. P. Lovecraft, the director of Hӓxan did not buy any of the nonsense extracted under torture and verified as a “fact” by the torturers. In his enlightened, positivist perspective, quite rare among the filmmakers in the early 1920s, the witches were not perpetrators of evil, but clearly victims: sometimes of their own faults and delusions, even more often of other people’s malevolence. Predating Michael Reeves’s Witchfinder General (1968) for almost half a century, Christensen realistically depicts all the phases, from a false accusation, through sadistic torture to execution. Furthermore, he makes the unfortunate woman’s plight even more touching by casting an old lady, non-actor, but with a highly expressive face, in the role of the “witch”. He refused to exploit the sadistic spectacle of a nubile young woman’s torture that many others would cash-in on later (e.g. Mark of the Devil, 1970) and for his trial selected a person who could not possibly be guilty of anything.

 

As it happens so often with filmmakers dealing with extreme, explicit imagery, his agenda was not immediately recognized, and like Deodato and Spasojević much later, Christensen was accused of advocating that which he seemingly condemned. The daily paper Social Demokraten wrote after Hӓxan’s premiere: “Many of the images exude such raw realism that the dominating reaction is one of nausea. The viewer suffers the torments along with the victims on the screen. The film seems itself a product of the beastliness, torture, bonfires and insanity that it means to critique.” Basically, the film was condemned for being too powerful, that is – too cinematic. Its images were too strong. This caused it many troubles. In English-speaking countries no one dared show the film for many years. The New York Times at least recognized that the film was ahead of its time when they wrote: “Come back with your film in 25 years, Mr. Christensen, and maybe then America will be mature enough to understand your art.”

 

“After The Witch,” Christensen would recall, “I was out in the cold for two years. When I finally got a chance at UFA, I had to disprove that I was this ‘literary experimentalist’ that everybody said I was, and so I made these purely commercial films.” While Hӓxan did not actually put an end to his career the way that, say, Peeping Tom (1960) would do to Michael Powell, its director was relegated to conventional films, now rightly forgotten, a partial exception being his decent Hollywood-made horror thriller Seven Footprints to Satan (1929). However, the power of The Witch was not repeated. But making even one film that is so incomparably unlike any other is more than most directors can dream of.

 

“It is a state of bliss,” admitted Benjamin Christensen, “for an artist once in his lifetime to get permission to do what he wants. That happened with The Witch.”

 

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