24 of 31 Horror Films I've Never Seen 2016: German Angst (2015)

It’s not very often that I watch anthology/omnibus films.  For the most part, I prefer to watch feature length films over shorts, but over time I’ve been coming around to format.  To preface, an anthology film is a feature length film comprised of multiple short films by different directors following a common theme.  Horror happens to yield quite well to the result and there have been a number of anthology films released in the last few years.  V/H/S and ABC’s of Death both have taken the format to franchise territory and when Asian Horror was booming during the mid-2000s we had gems like The Three Extremes 1 & 2.  Released last year, however, the triplet of stories that make up German Angst are in a class of their own.

From Director’s Jörg Buttgereit (NEKRomantik, Der Todesking, Schramm), Michal Kosakowski (Zero Killed), and Andreas Marschall (Tears of Kali, Masks) join forces to bring three films about love, sex, and death in Berlin.  To give away much more than that would honestly ruin the experience.

First of all, these films fall into the category of extreme horror.  Shock value is high and taboos don’t really exist.  Buttgereit is the more well-known of the three due to his incredibly grotesque shock films from the late 80s and into the 90s, but Kosakowski and Marschall are unafraid to show just how far they push the limits with their segments.  There is a lot of bloodshed in this anthology and it is almost always squirm inducing.  However, the mood and thematic tone of the films are incredibly poetic, recalling the romantic lyricism of the Silent Expressionist films in the 20s.  Updated for the modern age of course, but anyone with an interest in silent film history will be able to feel it when watching German Angst.

Of the three segments I’m honestly torn.  They’re all so unique and yet they meld so well together.  I think perhaps I found myself squirming more during the animal brutality in Kosakowski’s Make A Wish segment which has a lot of references to Nazi atrocities past and present.  Buttgereit’s Final Girl at first makes one think that he’s toning himself down from his past, but believe me he still manages to push a few nausea buttons.  Marschall’s Alraune is probably the most tension inducing and supernatural of the three and boasts some incredible creature effects.  Each film leads into the next perfectly giving the feeling of the beginning of a day and ending in the dead of night.  There really is something for every type of horror fan in this film, but it is not for the faint of heart or the easily nauseated.

 

Masks (2011): Number 2 in a Series of Reviews of Neo-Giallo Films

Where does one draw the line between inspiration and theft?  Better yet, where does one perceive said line?  If you're a film goer you have probably heard every opinion in the world about Quentin Tarantino, between people calling him a thieving hack, or a tributary genius.  Personally, I find it peculiar that so much attention is focused on anyone's originality, or lack thereof, in an industry that is chiefly focused on getting money out of your pocket by way of entertaining you.  I'll grant the fact that some films are such obvious ripoffs that they may as well be "theme porn," but I can't really fault anyone for taking their inspiration and pushing it as far as they can go.  Masks, a German Neo-Giallo, has been described as a Suspiria ripoff by commentators on the imdb boards, but I think that's far too simple of a dismissal of a film who's third act literally punches the viewer right in the gut.

While the focus of this is not about comparison, there are a few that need to be addressed so we can get down to business.  Like Suspiria, Masks is about a female protagonist who enrolls at a strange Academy in the countryside.  Transpose Dance to Drama and voila!  Aside from a similar use to theatrical lighting in certain segments, this is the only real similarity to Dario Argento's supernatural horror story.  The lead of the story, Stella (debut performance by Susan Ermich), goes to the Matteusz Gdula School after rejection from almost every other acting Academy in town.  Though clunky at first, the teacher's see a spark in here and accept her to the school.  Unfortunately, the school, and Gdula's method, have a dark and unsettling past.  Eager to become a great actress, Stella is drawn into the darkness like a moth to the flame, with some rather unsettling consequences.

This film, is a Giallo through and through.  The acting, while not bad, isn't the greatest thing on Earth, but the characters and story are interesting enough to enjoy the more banal parts of the exposition until it gets to the delightfully fucked up meat that make up the second half of the film.  The title of the film only has one literal reference (though there is a masked killer in the story) and is linked metaphorically to Stella.  Everyone is wearing a mask shaped by their experiences and to truly break free of themselves and become their characters they need to strip this mask off.  The idea of being artistically reborn is even literally placed into the context of Gdula's acting method, which involves a cornucopia of strange and unsettling drills, including hallucinogenic drug use, hypnotic suggestion, physical abuse, and other torments to bring the pure emotions of fear and rage out of the actors.

Writer, Director, Editor Andreas Marschall knows his stuff, in this case, and employs many satisfying methods to fit Masks into the Giallo canon.  The thudding bass and piercing guitar driven score by Sebastian Levermann recalls Bruno Nicolai's intro theme to Sergio Martino's The Case Of The Scorpion's Tail.  The creeping camera and beautiful lighting of Sven Jakob also add to the atmosphere of impending dread.  The sound design could probably have used a bit more of a punch, but the other elements made up for it's lack, though I noticed a couple of familiar canned screams that almost made me burst out with laughter at their inappropriate placement.

At 112 minutes runtime, Masks is definitely more of a slow burn that, even when it gives itself away, packs a few surprises and a rather ambiguous, albeit, bloody finale that is worth the wait.