Murder in Mind

Cure (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 1997)

The success of Jonathan Demme's The Silence of the Lambs (1991) set off a particular wave of psychological crime thrillers in the Nineties. The protagonists were often characterised with a mental hang up, such as a crippling trauma which needed to be overcome in order to finally take down the film's monstrous antagonist. These films were less action orientated and more adjacent to the horror genre. A major selling point was the killer's twisted methodology and his grotesque crimes. Kiyoshi Kurosawa's slow burner Cure (1997) is a stellar entry in this scene. The selling point being the killer supplanting  murder into the mind of others via his power of suggestion.

Tokyo detective Kenichi Takabe (Kōji Hashimoto) is tasked with investigating a string of murders which have plagued the city. The crimes are perpetrated by seemingly random people, who subsequently slash the carotid arteries, leaving a carved ‘X' on the victims’ necks. These actions are barely remembered by their assailants after they're caught. With the aid of Shin Sakuma (Tsuyoshi Ujiki), a hospital psychiatrist, the investigative pair make some headway discovering the random killings are brought upon by a hypnotist. The cool and calm Takabe also has to deal with his wife Fumie (Anna Nagakawa) succumbing to a deteriorating mental disorder. Both the case and his wife's illness are taking an immense toll on the detective.

As for Cure's heinous antagonist, Kunio Mamiya (Hasato Hagiwara), the dishevelled and mousy looking individual is introduced early in the film. A lost man on the beach, appearing to be suffering from amnesia when meeting his latest victim. With the aid of his lighter or spilt water, the drop out psychology student manages to hypnotise his prey before moving on. Thus, turning these random individuals who have had the misfortune in conversing with him into unwitting killers.

Despite some bloody scenes, Cure doesn't focus too long on the killings. Instead, it's the disturbing and uneasy build-up to these crimes which Kurosawa excels in capturing on film. One scene in particular, set outside a police box, shows the chilling act of a police officer gunning down his colleague so matter of factly. This is all filmed in daylight with one fixed point of view from a medium distance. The affect of which makes the whole scenario all the more disturbing, as it looks so mundane.

Cure possesses heaps of foreboding atmosphere thanks to an excellent combination of Tokushô Kikumura's gloomy and distant cinematography and a sound department able to make the drone of a tumble dryer sound oppressively frightening. Although preceding the J-horror boom by a couple of years, Cure's palpable atmosphere and pallid colour palette are arguably influential to the scene. The dark and flat visuals are pitch perfect with its subject matter. The production design of the various interior locations range from squalid, to urban hellholes. Thus, Cure shares some obvious common elements with David Fincher's Se7en (1995) not only with its premise.

Kurosawa has a great handle on showcasing Mamiya's power over others, not just with his hypnotic powers. The diminutive amnesiac can command a room with his sheer presence. A great example is the power struggle between him and Takabe in a darkly lit hospital room. During their scene, the antagonist manages to turn the tables as to has the greatest stature and command of the room. The camera composition frames the detective as the sick patient, while Mamiya slyly becomes the authoritarian figure.

Kind of shocked that Kiyoshi Kurosawa, a director associated with churning out low budget V-Cinema (Japan's straight-to-video) films like Door III (1996), managed to craft a gem of a cinematic thriller somewhere in between. Cure would be his belated break out success in international circles. The director would subsequently deliver the acclaimed, apocalyptic J-horror Pulse (2001), containing a similar look and under your skin vibe to Cure. A good film, but it's not one that I rate as highly compared to Cure; malevolent spirts from the internet don't exactly have the same impact for me as a serial killer Kenny Craig supplanting murderous thoughts into people's minds.

Embarrassed to admit that Cure is a new discovery for me. It's the type of psychological thriller that develops in a rich and intelligent fashion, without unfolding like some hackneyed police procedural which is so common today. A slow burn shocker that's so palpable, that it lingers on well after the closing credits; especially after that final scene. If you've seen it, then you know what I'm referring to. 

Highly recommended.

In the Doghouse

The Appointment (Lindsey C. Vickers, 1981)

Imagine if the same dreamlike and ominous atmosphere which permeated Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) manifested itself with Edward Woodward driving a Ford Granada. That's the best way to describe Lindsey C. Vickers’s lesser seen, The Appointment (1981). 

Apart from the short film The Lake (1978) (which shares many elements with this film) and a host of second/third unit directing spots for various Hammer films, this was Vickers’s one and only feature film as a director. One and done like Herk Harvey. A real shame, as this unseen chiller is a bonafide gem.

The Appointment manages to convey a tremendous sense of foreboding dread throughout its run time. Even scenes that involve inanimate still life objects, like a flower vase, Vickers manages to turn it into prophetic doom, with fallen flower petals being a sign of what’s to come. This scene, along with an abundance of other moments, make for a compelling build up. Fortunately, the climax of the film manages to be equally as satisfying.

A pre-credits sequence involving a young school girl walking home is when the film's first major, and most unforgettable, shocker occurs. Whilst taking a shortcut through the nearby woods, she's shockingly grabbed and whisked into the dense undergrowth, never to be seen again. The only trace is her violin being crushed by an unseen entity. It's a disturbing scene; one which completely earns the rest of the film all undivided attention. 

Thankfully, the rest of The Appointment is equally as captivating. Edward Woodward plays Ian, the beige sweater wearing suburban dad, tasked with having to break the news to his bratty daughter Joanne (Samantha Weysom) that he won't be able to attend her violin recital, due to a work commitment. When she pleads for him to make it to her performance, it all gets uncomfortable. It’s a power struggle between the two. Not being able to attend his daughter's concert is perceieved as a betrayal, and seals Ian's fate. This is the crux of the story.

A restless night follows. Dad gets the worst of it with vivid bad dreams; one of which involves his wife Dianna disturbingly turning into Joanna. Another is where both Ian and Dianna experience the same nightmare, where Ian is involved in a very serious car accident. Meanwhile, a pack of mysterious rottweillers manage to stalk around the family's home and Ian's place of work. Not only are the canines the same breed as the demonic one from The Omen films, but they also behave the same way.

While the stealthy dogs are doing who knows what to Ian's car in the garage, the most disturbing part occurs when Ian is tempted to go into his daughter's bedroom. Joanne is awake and stares at the door handle. Wasn't until another viewing when I realised the supernatural source. 

Early in the morning, a tired and groggy Ian drives off to attend his long distance appointment. 

Really great how the sound of screeching tyres, which were featured in a nightmare, persist while Ian is resting at a motorway service station. It's a minor detail that lends to the impressive vibe of the film.

Ultimately, the significance of the mysterious dogs and Ian's upcoming doom become very apparent during the final act of the film, of which there's really no need to divulge any further plot details.

Considering The Appointment was released during the hayday of the video nasty, it's a virtually a bloodless affair. Foreboding, atmospheric dread is its main objective. Edward Woodward is great at playing authoritarian figures who’ve bitten off more than they can chew in horror films. For fans of British horror, it's a winner. Effective as a slow burn chiller that doesn't abuse one's patience with a long arse run time; and rewarding to the observant who can spot hidden clues and symbolism within the film.

The Appointment is one of the better films I've seen released via BFI''s Flipside imprint. Tragic how it's spent forty years in relative obscurity and doesn't even have an official trailer. Worst of all, is it spending another two years sitting in my unwatched pile until I got round to watching it.