notes of truth, beauty and goodness on film during the series Cinema Bizarre
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About William Grefe Stanley (1972)
What to write, is a aesthetics of trash cinema . It would be an attempt to give the reader categories of the hand with which he learns to distinguish good from bad bad movies. In Cinema Bizarre it is often after talks that can be understood, perhaps as a preliminary to such a book. It can be observed that the formal and narrative shortcomings of many films, the cracks, gaps and awkward cuts, around which organizes these works are two permit at first sight contradictory reactions: first, the regret of formlessness, of the lack of coherence, implausibility, and frequently also of betraying one's own narrative conditions. Second, the hail of it is this lack of form resulting intensity of certain scenes and images that catch, no cushion through aesthetic, intellectual, psychological explanations, the viewer with full force. The enormous wealth of forms and genres of the 70 years was perhaps out of that freedom, as the filmmakers had time to devote to the aspects of a film which fascinated (perhaps only a single setting), and the rest of bored, unmotivated and quickly herunterzukurbeln.
In the still to be written aesthetics of trash cinema it to do, in conjunction with one of the two positions. Instead of looking at each film as a Grabbeltisch lying around on the much junk and some beads informally, would have him question to be addressed: How did this work its own formal defects, the inability of the actors, the inadequacy of the tricks, the inconsistent behavior the characters transformed into a virtue by it has transformed into a form of second order in a search for truth in a different field than psychologizing, preparatory each scene and pleasing illuminating mainstream art films or plow. Is it only due to Lucio Fulcis sloppiness that in A Living Dead bell rope day and night alternate with each other randomly, sometimes even within a scene? Or is behind this violation of established rules, a formal continuity ingenious idea about the collapse of all categories, between life and death, good and evil, day and night?
William Grefe Stanley (1972) is a low-cost production, which does not develop its shape in spite of, but with their limited resources. In the wake of Daniel's rat movie Willard (1971) Stanley tells of a social misfit, the half-Indian and Vietnam veteran Tim, who lives in the swamps of Florida in a kind of commune with a handful of rattlesnakes. Tim is a precursor of portraits by Werner Herzog in Grizzly Man Timothy Treadwell, a madman who believes that, since killing the snakes / grizzlies him not one of them. Stanley is struktuiert by the contrast of this strange animal becoming a human-being, which is marked with the utmost rigor of mutual exploitation, violence, ugliness and grotesque vanity. There is a contractor who hunts with his dull agents snakes, Dener he alive subtracting the skin to They sell high. He is hot on his daughter, his hairy body usually peeks out from a bright orange robe. Once he is in shorts with red hearts in front of a mirror and trained with the smallest weights in the world. Tim's mother is a painfully untalented dancer who wants to seduce her son in her first scene and later want to breathe new life into her dead career by biting than Cleopatra dancing snakes heads. It is driven by the owner of the shop The Climax, a disgusting grease rag in children's shorts. And then there's a moronic flower power junkie named Psycho, which responds to only two stimuli: snakes and Indians that he will massacre at screening immediately.
You could spend a lot of time trying to decipher the ecological, political, social messages, which lie around in Stanley like a Grabbeltisch, joined to form any coherent form or statement. His real power lies in the fact that he is the bumbling actions of the actors, their tasteless clothes, her ugly body has taken advantage of in order to design a self-contained bestiary of being human. There is no beauty, no consistency in the actions and words of the figures, each exalted, inappropriate gesture, every salacious, unpointierte remark, every detail of their miserable environment brings impressive expression: Man out is a fallen creature in nature, without grace, full of greed, disgusting. (Even the inconsistency of the lip movements with the comments of the figures in the German version underlines this impression.)
A phrase that is on the action level extremely implausible, reveals that even Tim, animal-becoming, not the counterpart of this general selfishness, but only a pathological extreme form of it. A young woman he has kidnapped his snake kingdom declares him after a night of love quite succinctly that his snakes are not his own kind, but his slaves that he can kill in his place and which he treated as his commanding sergeant in Vietnam, it began: as a killing machine. This encounter with the real bubble can burst fantasmatic Tim, and he escapes to complete in his madness, as he now wants to kill the girl. The snakes are opposed to their false sergeant, a fire eats away at the hut in the swamps, and from it crawls out in a truly grisly final scene Tim, along the ground and writhing with burns on his body that look like the pattern of a snake. The Tier Werdung, is it nevertheless succeeded yet.
Soon on Wayward Cloud: the Great animal horror Special!
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