Not Coming to a Theater Near You

Peeping Tom / UK / 1960

Two recent films manipulated me to desire violence as a means of catharsis: A History of Violence posits local hero Tom Stall at the sinister whim of three professional thugs in his front yard. At this point, he needs a miracle, and I was hoping for something retributive to the fear these strangers were instilling in his perfect family. Hostel’s scenario is the more predictable: two American backpackers (and one easily excited Icelander) spend half the film entertaining their every juvenile impulse, rude and indulgent; a contrast to Amsterdam’s otherwise muted population. After this prolonged binge, the trio’s mistreatment is supposed to be satisfying to those who balked at their prior behavior.

These films (because they are fresh in my memory) recall Peeping Tom in their desire to abuse the viewer. The principle difference is that Michael Powell’s film is devoid of any manipulation; it is timelessly sinister, and it can make you afraid. The final sequence commences with Helen (the naïve, 21-year-old neighbor to the filmmaker at the center of the film) in the serial killer’s lair—a dimly-lit darkroom, replete with old cameras, sound recorders, and dozens of reels of developed 16mm film. She activates the projector – it displays the authentic footage of the killer’s most recent murder – and her terrified face does not leave the frame; even as she cowers frantically, peeking behind a bookshelf, the camera remains focused. I suspect that contemporary filmmakers (or, certainly one of the two cited above) would intersperse this sequence with a glimpse of the horrible footage. You are deprived of any glimpse of what Helen sees, and the film is made all the more horrific.

Full review.

by Rumsey Taylor | Source: 35mm print
07 Feb 2006 11:21 AM | Comments (1)

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1. leo / 7 February 2006 / 9:45 AM / URL

   Agreed, Helen’s reaction is all the more terrifying, partly because it makes you want to see what she is seeing, and partly because, like Mark, you get to “enjoy” the sight of a woman in terror.

   The suicide at the end of the film (er, spoiler?) makes me think that Donald Cammell was thinking of this film (and his own, Performance) when he shot himself in 1996 — in front of a mirror. It is speculated that, because he shot himself in the forehead and not the roof of the mouth, he was sentient for approximately 45 seconds before he died.