Showing posts with label Barker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barker. Show all posts

31 January 2008

Tearing your soul apart: Hellraiser (1987) review

Plot
Frank Cotton is a mysterious man who buys a mysterious box from an equally mysterious Asian hawker. What is even more mysterious is that the Asian hawker is peddling in Morocco. Puzzled by the mysteries of the demographic irregularities, but seemingly undeterred by the mysteries of the mysterious box, Frank opens it with the aid of garden variety sputtering candles and late night deja-voodoo. A breed of hell-spawn demons called cenobites appear. They offer boundless sensual experience to Frank. Without even buying him a drink. Frank is not so mysteriously drawn to sadomasochism. Given the option of having a breed of demons torture his body and soul, or joining the Church of Scientology, a "dangerous cult", Frank wisely chooses to try his luck with the demons instead.







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Frank likes a little S&M kink amongst consenting adults, but he realises true exploitation when he sees it. After meeting the cenobites, Frank mysteriously disappears from his home - body, soul, mysterious box, cenobites and all. Authorities suspect Scientology has something to do with it. All the circumstantial evidence points to extra-terrestrial beings with a lust for life and an appetite for destruction, not to mention the resemblance between Xenu-bite and cenobite. It won't be the first time either. Nevertheless, Frank's brother Larry follows in his footsteps, in more ways than one. Larry soon moves into Frank's dilapidated house along with Frank's widowed wife. Seems like one could take nepotism too far after all.



But there is a screw loose. There are also nails loose, sticking out of the walls in Frank's house. Loose nails could get handy when there isn't another loose screw around with an S&M infatuation. Must be for when Frank gets lonely. While moving in, Larry cuts his hand on one of the nails, which proves to be the final nail in his coffin. Some of his blood is spilt on the floor. This mysteriously awakens the remains of Frank. Frank is such a rude character, he doesn't even wait for the sequel to make a comeback. He mysteriously escapes the cenobites, who spend the rest of the film terrorising Frank's terrifying step daughter for information instead of following the stench of rotting flesh to Frank's hideout. Gaining the upper hand over your opponent with emotional blackmail instead of sleuth tactics certainly compensates for its lack of efficiency with sheer style. The cenobites live up to their reputation for tearing souls apart, offering boundless sensual experience, evading all manners of taxation and traumatising several survivors. That's the cenobites. Not the Scientologists.

Review

  • This film is seriously lacking in the technical department. It is Barker's first attempt at directing a feature film, and it shows. The shots are composed haphazardly, so unethically unaesthetic that it doesn't look like they were composed at all. There are some clever shots which work very well, making it clear that Barker was merely not cognisant of composition protocol.

  • This is not to say the film fails to create atmosphere. On the contrary, mostly due to the innate storytelling genius of Barker and the music of Christopher Young, the film does manage to create binding tension. Not only for Frank. Barker manages to let the story unfold, raising all the right questions, leaving all the right questions unanswered. It does get a little muddled towards the end, mostly because the questions which are answered offer no real resolution. At least the ending itself is rather splendid.

  • Christoper Young was commissioned to write the score after Barker first tried to work with an Industrial soundtrack by fellow Brits Coil. Barker found the music they made short of listenable - "bowl churning", just like good Industrial should be, in fact. Young provides his usual model of excellence. His musical scores are like motion pictures on their own. The music of Christopher Young creates a black hole, sucking the viewer into another dimension.

  • You will love this film if you adore latex props in lieu of CGI, and can look past the glaring shortcomings of the shots. It obeys nearly all the commandments of horror, especially with regards to the characters. Some of Frank's blood doesn't look realistic at all. It looks more like paint. Frank's metamorphosis is done very well, but it could always do with more ooze, and naturally more buckets of blood!


Conclusion
A mildly entertaining, classy horror with Barker redeeming himself from the lacking film technique thanks to the brilliant storytelling. The performances of the largely unknown cast are also noteworthy. For fans of dark fantasy and true special effects craftsmanship.

Director
Clive Barker

Cast
Doug Bradley
Clare Higgins
Ashley Laurence
Andrew Robinson
Oliver Smith

Rating

23 December 2007

Ministry - Psalm 69: The Way to Succeed and the Way to Suck Eggs


Personell
M Balch – Keyboards, Programming
Paul Barker – Bass, Programming, Vocals
H Beno – Programming
Gibby Haynes – Vocals on "Jesus Built My Hotrod"
Al Jourgensen – Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards
Hypo Luxa – Producer
P Manno – Engineer
J C Newell – Engineer
Hermes Pan – Producer
Bill Rieflin – Drums
Mike Scaccia– Guitars
Louis Svitek – Guitar

Track listing

  1. N.W.O

  2. Just One Fix

  3. TV II

  4. Hero

  5. Jesus Built My Hotrod

  6. Scare Crow

  7. Psalm 69

  8. Corrosion

  9. Grace



Review
When Ministry recorded this album, they were rising superstars of the er bludgeoning industrial scene. Although they do not make industrial in the strict sense of the word, they do employ studio wizardry to infinity and beyond. Aggressive and more like 10 000 punches in your face than Nine Inch Nails would ever muster, this appeals to me although I mostly like my metal.

You might wonder who Hypo Luxa and Hermes Pan are. Hypo Luxa is a pseudonym for Al Jourgensen, and Hermes Pan is the alias of Paul Barker. Maybe this was their way of screwing the record company out of more money? Good, because record companies deserve to be screwed. Not in the lights down low listening to Barry White kind of way, in the yo wigga you mah bitch now prison sex kind of way.

Conclusion
This is the primordial soup that spawned all the hedonistic messiahs of the nineties and beyond. Ever pondered what prompted Reznor to put that Mellotron on overdrive? Or what prompted Manson to take up the theremin? Next to being abducted by three breasted aliens, this is as close to a religious experience as you are ever likely to get.

Rating

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