The Slinging Detective

Singapore Sling (Nikos Nikolaidis, 1990)

Preceding the Greek Weird Wave movement, which rose to prominence in the late 2000s, Nikos Nikolaidis's thoroughly depraved Singapore Sling (1990) can be considered as ahead of its time. Ought to add, I've largely found Greek Weird Wave (which turned Yorgos Lanthimos into a popular name amongst the kino massive) a pretentious and farcical movement, thanks to its trademark stilted deliveries and awkward hipster humour. Singapore Sling happens to be something of an outlier in this regard, as it manages to have its own idiosyncratic charm and identity without it being eye-rollingly trying too hard. As a result, it happens to be a rewatchable entry in extreme cinema rather than a one time endurance test.

Singapore Sling, or to use the literal English translation of its original title - The Man Who Loved A Corpse, takes obvious inspiration from Otto Preminger's celebrated noir Laura (1944). Preminger's film has  Dana Andrews's private dick searching for the killer of Gene Tierney's character, before a big twist surfaces later in the movie. Nikolaidis has Singapore Sling, the eponymous, Greek detective searching for his lover Laura. The sleuth stumbles upon a bizarre mother and daughter disposing of a body during a torrential downpour, who might know something about Laura's whereabouts.

Many familiar tropes and cliches associated with film noir are prominent in the film. The most obvious is the titular character being the detective investigating the disappearance of his sweetheart. From the harsh black and white contrast lighting, to Sling's first person narration (albeit in Greek), there's a level of technical understanding for the genre's craft. Without the odd giveaway, such as a very obvious '80s looking turntable, you would be forgiven for mistaking the film as being from a much earlier era. That is of course if depraved movies of the Forties and Fifties were on par with this back then. It's what makes Singapore Sling so anachronistically abstract.

Be warned; Singapore Sling definitely falls under the extreme cinema umbrella. This is a film which isn't shy in showing numerous acts of sexual depravity like BDSM and various bodily fluids. There are wince inducing moments of vomiting during a greedy feast scene, but perhaps the film's piece de resistance is the scene involving a kiwi fruit. Without delving into any graphic detail, you'll never see the fuzzy fruit in the same way again. Ever.

What's intriguing about the film, for me at least, is the relationship between Daughter AKA Laura (Meredyth Herold) and Mother (Michele Valley). Given how intentionally unreliable and contradictory facts and details are presented, you aren't certain if the characters are related, or if it's all role play. This does add another layer to the film, which sends the mind racing into overtime attempting to make sense of the characters.

Performance wise, both Herold and Valley are superbly animated and quirky as the psycho mother and daughter. They are what makes this such a watchable film. Thanassoulis plays it lifelessly deadpan, but there's more to his character as the film progresses. He's plainly not a third wheel in the film's plot. To be fair, Singapore Sling's group psychopathy has a lot in common with Freddie Francis's absolutely stellar Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly (1970), another film that I adore involving a role playing dysfunctional family.

Definitely not for everyone and obviously one for the sickos. A technically stylish and well crafted film considering how depraved it is from the jump. It's oddly strange how various tropes and cliches associated with film noir are grafted into such a perverse art-house film. This make it all the more audacious. A  transgressive film, and one that's grown on me even more over the years.

Amazingly, Singapore Sling is available to watch for free and uncut on Nikos Nikolaidis's YouTube channel. How it hasn't been taken down by Google, I'll never know. However, I do welcome it being there for any inquisitive film fanatics daring enough to check it out. More recently, Singapore Sling got the lavish boutique Blu-Ray treatment, courtesy of Vinegar Syndrome, which I ended up purchasing for my own film library.

Floundering Nemo

Inside (Vasilis Katsoupis, 2023)

One is the loneliest number for Willem Dafoe in his latest film, Inside (2023). I can relate, since judging by the various comments and reviews I've read, I'm probably the only one who likes the film. If you watched the trailer and expected a Michael Mann style art-heist thriller, then that's on you!

Willem Dafoe plays Nemo an artist/art thief abandoned by his accomplices after a botched theft to steal an Egon Schiele self-portrait. Trapped within a swanky and inpeneterable penthouse, he's left at the mercy of the smart home's faulty automated settings and what little food is available to keep him alive. From Willem Dafoe to Daniel Defoe, Inside is conceptually Robinson Crusoe in a high-rise appartment.

What makes the prospect of Inside so enticing is seeing Dafoe, an incredible actor synonymous with playing unhinged characters, carrying an entire film while he is trapped in a single location. The premise might not appeal to some, but it's far more appealing than the usual over-hyped Hollywood brain rot out there, that's for certain. It's also wildly entertaining watching Dafoe completely trash a penthouse apartment.

Not without its faults, Defoe's performance makes this film a mesmerising viewing experince. Watching him fall into complete despair and lose his mind, feels almost sadistically entertaining. Munching on ice from the freezer to stay hydrated and keep cool from the sweltering heat coming from the aircon, is desperately gruelling. To then hear, the fridge freezer auto play the Macarena song whenever it's left open too long, is hilarious. Nemo eventually being broken by it and finding it entertaining is on par with Dr. Yen Lo's brainwashing from The Manchurian Candidate (1962).

With the plumbing turned off, water becomes a scarce commodity, and so Nemo has to collect water from taps on a timer for the house plants and take dumps in a bath. Food is also limited, and our imprisoned protagonist eventually has to resort to eating the penthouse's tropical fish and dog food.

Starved of social interaction, Nemo observes the penthouse's CCTV as a window beyond his confines; the others are a hurt pigeon facing a similar fate outside the apartment, and a video art installation room. He becomes drawn to "Jasmine", the cleaner he desperately tried to alert. As his health and mental state deteriorate, Nemo experiences hallucinatory fantasies of both her and the penthouse's owner. These surreal scenes are welcome breaks from the obvious monotony at times.

Nemo's hope of escape from his palatial confine materialises with a tall structure created from various furniture reaching up to the apartment's skylight. It resembles a modern art sculpture. There's also his elaborate mural borne from his deteriorating mental state. A person utilising his pain and suffering to creative: a satirical take on art by Katsoupis, perhaps? There's also the scene where Nemo finds William Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell in a secret room. Which is right about the time the film takes an about turn into the existential and symbolic representations of mankind's relationship with Heaven and Hell.

Biggest gripe with the film was its finale. Ambiguous endings are often a clichéd cop-out. A cheap trick employed by pretentious film makers. Their intention might have been to let the viewer fill the last piece, but it often comes across as either their lacking the necessary skill, or apparent laziness to effectively end their film with the same level of expertise with what preceeded it. Given the film's obvious spiritually symbolic final scenes, the ambiguous climax might have been intentional by Katsoupis, but it still comes across as underwhelming, regardless. Still, despite this blunder, Inside is a film where Dafoe gets to deliver a phenomenal performance, and it's completely indebted to him for being such a compelling viewing experience.

Long Live the New Sex

Crimes of the Future (David Cronenberg, 2022)

Brandon Cronenberg's burgeoning film career appears to have reignited his old man's propensity for body horror. It's a welcome return for David Cronenberg, since he's been absent from helming a film for several years and his latest, Crimes of the Future is his first forray into the genre which dubbed him the "king of venereal horror" in over twenty years. Throughout that time, Cronenberg managed to seperate himself from his peers such as Wes Craven, Tobe Hooper and George Romero, by successfully crossing over into mature drama, which, along with the adulation and praise, negatively attracted "serious" cinephiles, aka poncy c**ts. 

The future doesn't seem so advanced in Cronenberg's latest film. Infections no longer occur, so people don't bother to wash their hands, even after using the toilet; I mean, that sounds like most of the people I've witnessed in various public places, to be honest. Also, our sense of pain no longer exists, resulting in desktop surgeries being the new fad. The world of Crimes of the Future is very dirty and regressive looking; accommodations look like a Dickensian tramp's temporary lodgings, which makes location shooting in a European shithole like Athens absolutely perfect, in my humble opinion.

A ninja clad Viggo Mortensen plays Saul Tenser, a famous performance artist suffering from Accelerated Evolution Syndrome, a disease that makes his body produce novel organs. Along with his partner Caprice (Léa Seydoux), they provide Grand Guignol style surgical operations for artistic entertainment. Saul is laid conscious in a crablike chamber while his organs are surgically extracted with robotic devices controlled by Caprice. The grotesquely literal display of an artist bearing their all isn't exactly lost here and if you're fairly familiar with some of his prior films, it's the type of symbolism you would come to expect from a man like Cronenberg. These acts are perceived as sexual, to the point where he has a zipper modification for easier access to his internal organs; which leads to him receiving a disturbing stomach job from Caprice. Tenser also happens to liken these performances as rebellious acts of defiance against his body's condition.This stance has him aiding with a police divison (known as New Vice Unit), where he works as a mole to uncover a collective of radical extremists who consume purple candy bars made of plastic. The food of choice for modified digestive systems which allows them to eat plastics.

Despite the obvious controversy surrounding Crimes of the Future, there are some philosophical and ethical questions raised which resonated in my mind. This had me pondering over a completely irrelevant and fictional subject matter (at this present time at least) that struck a cord with me. That's worthy of some kind of respect, in my opinion. Mortensen and Seydoux work well together on screen and their chemistry helps the bizarre relationship seem believable. The rest of the supporting cast, including Kristen Stewart as the oddball New Organ Registry officer, aid with the illusion of this dystopian world, which in all honesty looks like it was mostly filmed in various abandoned crack dens.

Although not exploitational, there's an explicitly voyeuristic nature about Crimes of the Future, that forces the viewer to be a casual bystander, in the same manner as the audience watching Tenser's performance shows. Along with the people getting off in slashing and and stabbing blades in a consenting partner's body, it's extreme debauchery that will no doubt offend some peoples' sensibilities. I got the feeling that the concept of doggin' was fed into Cronenberg's brain and this was what he came up with. It's all very macabre and shocking, yet it does serve a sincere purpose as part of the world building process.

Big fan of the breakfaster chair that moves about and groans to aid with digestion. That thing was hilarious on screen. Viggo Mortensen pulling weird faces trying to eat what seems like a green steak and kidney pudding was one of my favourite scenes in the film. The rest of the weird tech are also bizarrely organic looking and are the only real props in the film that suggest this is set sometime in the not too distant future.

Worth pointing out that Howard Shore's mix of synthwave and acoustic sounds really accentuate the two contrasting factions presented within the film. Other than the main theme, Klinek stood out the most for me with its cyberpunk vibe.

Crimes of the Future feels like Cronenberg's most satisfying film since pehaps eXistenZ (1999). Largely because it's a return to the types of movie I have forever associated him with. It's also due to the fact that I objectively find this his most balanced and complete production amongst his later films. Definitely a personal highlight for me this year. Really grateful this doesn't have anything to do with Croneberg's 1970 film with the same name, because I found that dire. You've come along way since then, Dave! 

Thought I'd hung up my extreme cinema pass long ago, yet this and Mad God (2022) are both films that would be classed in this category and I've thoroughly enjoyed them.

Sending You Forget Me Nots

Apples (Christos Nikou, 2021)

Apples (Trailer)

(Christos Nikou, 2021)

When Yiorgos Lanthimos ushered in his bonkers 2009 film, Dogtooth to unsuspecting audiences, he also opened the floodgates of Greek Weird Wave to the world. Christos Nikou's feature length debut, Apples follows this trend with a way more accessible offering for the uninitiated. 

Love the concept of a pandemic leaving the afflicted with amnesia and how it affects Aris, the film's protagonist in his reintroduction into society. The hilariously sinister treatment method is easily the film's largest draw for me; which could have been a Farrelly Brothers film in another life. Also worth mentioning are the charming supporting characters, particularly Anna, a fellow amnesiac and potential love interest.

Easily a firm contender for one of my fave films out this year and definitely a stand out from all the overly melodramatic and depressingly gloomy Greek films I've seen to date. An exceptional film.

Somewhat ironic how both Christos Nikou's Apples and Camille Griffin's Silent Night feel very relevant in today's current climate, despite being filmed before shit hit the fan for us. Can't say I'm full of the same praise for the latter film, however.