So, you want "extreme horror" cinema, huh? Well, you got it, bub. You should know, however, that even the most extreme, horrific, and disgusting horror film can be a beautifully realized work of art, with all the complexity and emotional depth of, say, a film by Truffaut or Bergman. This isn't as easy to do as it might seem. By nature, horror is an exploitative genre...and exploitation tends to preclude art for art's sake, for the most part. However, I can say with total confidence that Nacho Cerda has achieved something quite remarkable with this collection of short films. He's taken the exploration of death...specifically, what happens after death...to new heights, much like Jörg Buttgereit did nearly two decades ago with his sicko-classic Nekromantik. So, with all the trappings of "extreme horror" coupled with true "art" in place, we'll dive right in...
Aftermath
Opening to the sorrowful strains of Mozart's "Requiem" Mass, Aftermath shows us, in montage, the surroundings that will be our home for the next half hour. The camera gracefully swoops and glides over the sterile, medical surfaces of a morgue, and finally, we focus on the path of a young morgue attendant, who pushes yet another unidentified corpse down the cold hallways. Along his path, he stops to briefly watch the activities of a pair of morticians, who are deep in the throes of preparing two bodies for burial. Then, our point of view shifts again to that of one of the morticians, as he dutifully performs his grim, disgusting tasks with workmanlike detachment and precision. Every detail of the process of preparing a body for burial is shown in unflinching detail, and it ain't pretty. Still, as gross as it is, it's still pretty much business as usual for this pair of morticians, and they perform their duties with all the skill of, say, an electrician or an auto mechanic. Finally, one of the morticians completes the process on one body. He ritualistically cleans up his workspace, hoses down the morgue slab, and carts his body away, leaving the other mortician all alone. It's here when the already nasty proceedings take a turn, from the methodical and clinical to the extremely perverse. The second mortician finishes his work, and then goes down the hall to retrieve the fresh corpse of a young woman, who was apparently killed in a car accident, but whose corpse is in relatively "good" shape, considering it's a corpse. Slowly...perversely...the mortician undresses the body, as if he were undressing a large doll, and the really gross stuff happens. I'll leave the details of this "movement" (and a "movement" it is; Aftermath is structured very much as an opera or at least a symphony of mayhem) for you to discover, but be warned...you will never feel the same way about morticians...
Genesis
Like Aftermath, Genesis is structured and presented as a symphony of pain. But, whereas Aftermath seems to be concerned with the indignity of being the cold hunk of meat that is the human corpse, Genesis seems more concerned with how the living cope with the death of a loved-one. Our story here revolves around a sculptor, who having lost his beautiful young wife in some unknown event (though, it might have been a car accident), is deep in the grieving process. He starts work on a life-sized sculpture of his wife, in an effort (we assume) to pay homage to her. He pours his heart and soul into the piece, and works day and night on it. Instead of being a therapeutic act, however, it only seems to make his pain and grief intensify. Late one night, during a violent storm, natch', he is awakened by something, and he goes into his studio to check on his work. Upon examining his sculpture, he notices a trickle of what appears to be blood coming from near her left clavicle (the area near her stony collarbone). Confused and concerned, and more than a bit dazed, he hoses the sculpture down with water, but the "wound" just keeps bleeding. Soon, more "wounds" appear in the cold surface of the sculpture, and as more blood begins dripping from it, and more of the surface begins chipping away, the artist finds himself slowly starting to decay...or perhaps to even turn to stone himself. This culminates in one of the most beautifully realized and emotionally stirring final shots I have ever been lucky enough to witness on film.
The Awakening
Stylistically and technically the most disparate of the three shorts included here, The Awakening was shot in black and white in a "full frame" 1.33:1 aspect ratio, but thematically, it's the perfect ending point for the conceptual whole made up of these three films. The Awakening clocks in at about eight minutes, but manages to cram more actual depth into that short time than most sappy feature films. It takes place in one room...a classroom...where a male student is going through the daily grind of classwork, getting crappy grades, and being easily distracted by his classmates. When time seems to suddenly stop, he rises from his chair, and tries to leave the room. He discovers that he is, in fact, his own disembodied soul, and that his body is dying right before his eyes. He seems trapped in the room until his body dies, and then a beautiful "angel" beckons to him from the hallway. End of movie. The Awakening distills the concept and emotional power of the moment of death into an exceedingly simple silent film. It does in eight minutes what The Sixth Sense took two hours to accomplish, and that is to provide insight into what the soul may or may not experience right around that moment of death. While The Awakening lacks the languid, flowing camerawork and the shocking gore effects of Aftermath and Genesis, it does its job remarkably well.
So, it's clear that director Cerda has kind of a "theme" going here, huh? That theme is, of course, the various stages of death as part of the human experience. Chronologically, from "oldest" movie to "newest", the progression of these films is The Awakening, followed by Aftermath, and finishing with Genesis, and that is, naturally, how the common thread runs along, too. What is thematically begun with the death (and the realization of death) of the "protagonist" in The Awakeningis continued in Aftermath with one...ahem..."original" and horrific portrayal of what could happen after death (in terms of a dead human body being simply "meat", and empty carcass, if you will). Then, we are confronted with a vision of how our loved ones choose to "move on" after our deaths, though in this case, it might be better to say "not move on". So, we're taken along on this natural progression; death, decay, and eventual rebirth (hence "genesis") and/or eternal life, if only in the form of memories...some good, some bad. Heady stuff for a trio of short horror films, don't you think?
Nacho Cerda is a cinematic visionary in the truest sense of the word. He has the talent, courage, and conviction to show us something that we've never seen before...to make us see something that we don't always want to see. It's not that his ideas are purely original; other artists and filmmakers have dealt with these themes before. It's just that Cerda is so dedicated to showing us these things in artistic and harrowing ways, that he deserves any credit and acclaim that comes his way. In Aftermath and Genesis in particular, Cerda's vision is both poetic and gruesome...both beautiful and hideous. That duality of death is at the very core of what it means to be human. There were moments in Aftermath when I wanted to puke, or to at least avert my eyes. Likewise, there were moments in Genesis of such languid beauty and utter sorrow that I literally had to choke back tears. That is the power of cinema, and these films are, in their simplicity, absolute proof that cinema...even horror cinema...can and does have the power to make us think, even if for but a moment.
A special note about Aftermath:
Since this DVD release tends to treat Aftermath as its "main feature", I thought it best to spend an extra moment discussing some of the controversy that the film has generated. Let's just be nice and sparkling clear - Aftermath contains some of the most grotesque, explicit, and realistic depictions of the "autopsy" process. Furthermore, there is a ten-minute stretch in Aftermath that can only be described as portraying the most heinous acts of corpse-defilement ever put on film. Both categories of "icky" stuff are treated exactly the same way here...with cold frankness and matter-of-factness. I think that is the root of the stir this film has caused. Nobody actually "likes" to see this kind of thing (well, nobody that I associate with, that's for sure) presented so vividly and coldly. But that is the whole fuckin' point! It takes a bit for it to kick in, but once it does, the realization that you're watching something truly important should mostly outweigh the sheer revulsion you feel. Maybe. Interestingly, as of this writing, most of the major US retailers have officially "banned" this release from their shelves. That fact alone can make this DVD hard to come by through "traditional" means. Rest assured, however, that you can acquire this release from many fine online retailers, notably Xploited Cinema, where they carry not only the "standard" release of this DVD, but also a special version that is identical to the "standard" version but for the inclusion of a "reversible" cover/sleeve, which shows the truly explicit original box art. On a related note, it seems quite likely that if you live in the UK (or most of Europe, I imagine), and you order this release, it may very well be confiscated by customs. This film has that kind of infamy.
It may seem that a DVD release for what, let's face it, is a handful of short films...with two of them served up as "special features" unto themselves, this release from Unearthed Films might qualify as a gouge. Not so! The short films are complemented by a full array of special features, including director's commentary for all three films, a candid and insightful filmed conversation between Nacho Cerda and Jörg Buttgereit, an interesting audio-only interview with Cerda, extensive storyboards, shooting scripts, still galleries, a "making of" featurette for Aftermath, and numerous other goodies. So, there's more than enough meat to support the bones of this release. In general, the transfers for each film (in various aspect ratios) are clean and clear, though Aftermath does bear some annoying artifacting during the opening sequence and credits. It's nothing serious, but it's something that probably could have been avoided. This is a truly nice release that doesn't feel at all like you're just getting three short films.
Taken by itself, Aftermath more than lives up to its reputation, and it works quite well as a very nasty short horror subject. But, taken as the middle part of a trilogy of short films, it works on a whole different level...as an experiment in fear, and an almost mystical exploration of death. Highly recommended, but be warned...this ain't for the weak of heart or those who lack fortitude of stomach!
So, you want "extreme horror" cinema, huh? Well, you got it, bub. You should know, however, that even the most extreme, horrific, and disgusting horror film can be a beautifully realized work of art, with all the complexity and emotional depth of, say, a film by Truffaut or Bergman. This isn't as easy to do as it might seem. By nature, horror is an exploitative genre...and exploitation tends to preclude art for art's sake, for the most part. However, I can say with total confidence that Nacho Cerda has achieved something quite remarkable with this collection of short films. He's taken the exploration of death...specifically, what happens after death...to new heights, much like Jörg Buttgereit did nearly two decades ago with his sicko-classic Nekromantik. So, with all the trappings of "extreme horror" coupled with true "art" in place, we'll dive right in...
