The Giallo Canvas

Laughing Windows,
Broken Blinds

The Giallo Canvas -
Art, Excess and Horror Cinema
by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas
McFarland Press
ISBN: 9781476675398

Just a quick shout out to what I believe is one of the more entertaining, refreshing and illuminating books about various gialli in contemporary writing on the genre, The Giallo Canvas - Art, Excess and Horror Cinema by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas. Now I’ve found myself, at first accidentally, following the career of the writer over the last few years via expert inclusion on Blu Ray releases and essays in various venues such as accompanying leaflets and books. There’s even a brilliant episode of the podcast All The Colours Of The Dark which features her as the guest of honour, which is really worth a listen to (as are all the other episodes and anything hosted by Dr. Rebekah McKendry and Elric Kane). I’d not actually read an entire book by her before so I’m happy to start with one that is not only about one of my all time favourite genres of cinematic spectacle but also, in this case, approaching from a different and somewhat unique route... that of the overlap and relationship between various forms of art (mostly painting but not only limited to that) and themes and ideas that permeate a multitude of gialli.

Now, regular readers may be expecting a tirade of negativity from me in that the title itself (and some of the comments in the book) makes evident a perception that giallo is, perhaps, a sub-genre of horror cinema and, those same regular readers (I know you’re out there) will know that I don’t believe gialli are in any way an overlap of horror cinema (and neither are slasher movies for that matter)... if anything, they may be considered a sub-genre of crime films, if the point really needed to be pushed. However, I’m not going to labour that point here, specifically because Heller-Nicholas doesn’t ram that connection (or lack of) down your throat as some writers in the genre have and, mostly, because she’s easily written one of the most intelligent books on the subject going so... yeah, opinions on genre should be thrown to the side as this book is certainly one which is worthy of celebration.

Okay, so she had me right from the start with this one, literally from the first words of her introduction to the concepts she will go on to explore (in a much less formal and stuffy way than many academics go about leading a path to their imminent conclusion), by quoting an article by Virginia Woolf, writing about the first run release of The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari. The way that distinguished writer’s view of recognising high art and the questioning which comes as a reaction to it, seems pretty similar to Heller-Nicholas’ own discoveries of giallo and alternative cinema via Australia’s Special Broadcasting System (SBS) and numerous visits to video rental shops in her youth.

The book is set up in various sections including ‘Clues, Presence and Painting’, ‘Painters’ and ‘Other Art Forms’ and each one of these is split into chapters which explore either a specific painter (such as Vermeer), other mediums such as sculpture, music, writing, theatre/film performance and, also, movies in which characters in the stories are themselves an artist in one medium or another... and the way each of these subjects informs and illuminates the story and ideas presented in various gialli, usually taking one or two examples in each chapter as the main focus. So one chapter might mostly focus on Vermeer as seen in The Forbidden Room and The Psychic (aka Seven Notes In Noir) while another may highlight the use of Francis Bacon’s paintings in Lizard In A Woman’s Skin.

And it’s a really great book illuminating, for example, the highlighting of the visual reference created to mimic art as a metatextual element pulling the spectator out of the event... just as Godard used to try and do to his audience all the time (I guess I should also, myself, reference Brechtian theatre here as an example of this) or the way clues are missed in various films due to the main character’s failure to correctly interpret the clues in a specific piece of art (think of the painting in Argento’s The Bird With The Crystal Plumage and, of course, the tell tale mirror reflection of a painting of faces at the start of Argento’s Deep Red). There’s also some nice work done here with some really thorough interpretations of the various paintings seen (and sometimes fallen into) in The Stendhal Syndrome and similar interesting deductions and inclusions found in such gialli as The House With Laughing Windows and The Red Queen Kills Seven Times. And she also looks at the links between giallo and fashion, highlighting Bava’s Blood And Black Lace as kickstarting this juxtaposition, along with the humourous observation that crimes against the victims in films such as these are also violent attacks on the ‘high price tag’ clothing they wear. I’m also glad that she takes the time to briefly name check some other good writers in the field, including the brilliant Rachael Nisbet.

I’m not going to give away too many of the fascinating pleasures which make up the minor masterpiece that is The Giallo Canvas - Art, Excess And Horror Cinema but I would certainly say that, if you are into giallo and exploitation cinema and are looking to read something different to the usual meanderings in this field, then this one is really worth a purchase. And, it also educated me in one very important point that may have escaped my attention completely if I hadn’t picked up this tome... that the mannequin on the old posters for Spasmo bears a striking resemblance to Tori Amos. Not to mention Heller-Nicholas’ conclusion section, which takes time to mull over the much overused critical phrase ‘style over substance’ and its use as a negative in relation to the genre when, in some ways, it could also be seen as a much more positive engagement with the subject. Yep, there’s some real next level observations in this book. Give it a go.

Nature Morte

The Art Of Murder

Nature Morte
UK 2006
Directed by Paul Burrows
Redemption Films Region 2

Warning: Here be some heavy spoilers.

Nature Morte is, to date, the only film written and directed by Paul Burrows. I’d not actually heard of it before but I sought this out because I was impressed with Carole Derrien from Mindflesh (reviewed here) and wanted to see something else she was in. As it happens, this is probably a better film than Mindflesh in some ways although, I have to say, the interesting and intriguing premise with its shifting antagonists would have been much better served, I think, if Burrows had managed to acquire a bigger budget. Something about the way the film has been lit makes it feel like it’s an art house classic trying to express itself with limited tools.

That being said, they’ve certainly tried their best to get the production values up to the standard of the director’s vision and, if it sometimes looks a little rough around the edges, I’m certainly cutting this one some slack because the simplicity of the plot and the single mindedness in which it pursues that without getting over complicated is to be applauded these days, I think.

This one starts off well, with a woman who goes back to an artists rooms in Marseilles... unaware that this artist takes inspiration from the women he slaughters as he paints them. Something, which is revealed at the end of the film, causes this artist to shoot himself after his latest victim has been rendered in canvas but this doesn’t stop him becoming extremely famous in the world of fine art.

Enter art critic and private collector Oliver Davenport (played by Troy McFadden), who has written several books on this serial killer artist, who always painted his bloody victims tied to a chair in each painting. Enter, also, the police... who have found an artist with more or less identical paintings working in Thailand. They want Davenport to go there and investigate to see if this guy was an accomplice in the murders, which he does since he now wants to buy the paintings of this artist too. Once he arrives in Thailand he meets this decidedly shady and intimidating artist, Lec (played by Laurent Guyon), and his girlfriend Blanche (played by Carole Derrien). He starts going to their pleasingly weird drug and sex fuelled parties while negotiating to buy the artists work, becoming embroiled in their world somewhat... if only he could remember what happened when he was ‘helping’ the artist on his latest picture session.

And, yeah, this is a film where the fate/transformation of Davenport is probably something you will suspect right from the start of the movie but, ultimately, is not just about that as it turns out that Lec is one of a number of ‘killer artists’ over the years churning out exactly the same kind of work... or at least that’s the implication. What it’s really about is the ‘object’ that fuels the fires of these artists and transforms them into fine artists who slice up their models in a somewhat Faustian deal that is left both shady but obvious, by the time of the film’s final act.

And it’s a nice little movie, transcending its appearance of being a thriller set in the art world and, due to the almost Dorian Gray element of supernatural influence, firmly placing itself in the realm of horror movie... albeit a sexy, unscary one.

Indeed, as if Derrien wasn’t enough (why is this lady not in more movies), she’s also joined in the last third of the movie by fetish model Morrigan Hel from the Satanic Sluts, who has a pretty true to stereotype role in the movie but also, in the end, is another in a presumably long chain of inheritors of the... shall we say... transformative powers or art?

Despite the obvious budgetary limitations, I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed the film and loved the very loaded names of some of the characters in it, such as Viva Sartorius and Elisabeth Dahlia (always up for a good Betty Short reference, me). I’m not sure why the film seems to be floundering in such obscurity but I reckon it would have been a safe bet to be much more celebrated if it had been around in the days of the Scala Cinema for sure. Also, I think this one could have scored big at Frightfest and I’m wondering if it got any kind of premiere there at the time it was around. I notice it took two years since it’s Cinénygma International Film Festival and Belfast Horrorthon premieres in 2006 before it got any kind of commercial release.

The various actors and actresses are mostly pretty good in this and I find it a bit of a shame that the ambitions of the director are occasionally limited by the bargain bucket mentality of the funding for the project but, hey, that seems par for the course these days. It does surprise me, though, that this guy hasn’t directed anything else since this and I think we might have seen some amazing films from Burrows on the modern horror circuit if this had been a better known movie, perhaps.

So, yeah, the intrigue of the premise is, perhaps, not quite matched by the follow through in some ways but it does go on way longer than where you would expect it to end, as it reveals the final puzzle pieces in the last third of the movie and... I think horror and exploitation fans especially will probably enjoy Nature Morte for what it is. Worth checking out, especially with the ‘value for money’ price of the DVD on Amazon at time of writing. An interesting watch. 

The Art Of Robert E McGinnis

Cover Girls

The Art Of Robert E McGinnis
by Robert E. McGinnis and Art Scott
Titan Books 
ISBN: 978-1781162170

A very good friend bought me this book for Christmas and, I have to say, it’s a pretty amazing find. I first heard of Robert E. McGinnis, or thought I had, from a constant stream of retweets of his work from various people on Twitter over the last six months or so. But, as it turns out, the art of Robert E. McGinnis is something which has never been very far away from me throughout my life... and I suspect the same can be said for a lot of people, even though many of them may never have heard of him.

This book takes a very broad look at the artist’s work, a man who has painted literally 1000s of book covers, movie posters and magazine illustrations (amongst other things) over the years. The book jackets are absolutely fantastic and it was his work with drawing sexy females, something known by afficionados of his work as the ‘McGinnis Women’, that drew my eye initially, most recently. There’s something about some of those pulpy covers featuring a girl and a gun, often eyeing up the potential reader with a look and in a pose which sparks an unspoken dialogue or query, which grabs the audience straight away. Apparently, sales of one particular series of books which were going to be cancelled, sky rocketed when they started utilising McGinnis’ paintings and it’s not hard to see why.

The McGinnis women have a slightly different feel to them too, from series to series. For instance, on the Perry Mason series of covers, which was perceived as being a far more upmarket franchise than some of the other ones the artist worked on, the women are less about obvious sex appeal but still hold the attention, nonetheless and, as this book progresses, you see different sides of the painter expressed in different kinds of projects. It’s also fun to spot influences on his work in terms of likenesses used from time to time too. For instance a series of books about a character called Milo March often included the likeness of Hollywood actor James Coburn on the cover and the painter makes mention to the writer of this handsome tome that he was always anxiously awaiting from a call from Coburn to find out just what was going on with that. I guess those were the days before likeness rights were an issue.

McGinnis was, of course, no stranger to working with the likeness of James Coburn from some of the movie posters he created, such as the iconic one of him riding the motorbike with his arms holding his jacket open and revealing dynamite for Sergio Leone’s A Fistful Of Dynamite (aka Duck, You Sucker aka Giu La Testa) and I believe, although it’s not mentioned in this book, that he might have done the first of the two theatrically released Flint movies too. There was a slightly more cartoon style to another strand of his work... like I said, different aspects of the man come out as you read through the book... and there’s a lot of iconic imagery that he’s been responsible for, in terms of colonising the collective subconscious of various generations. Such as the classic painting of Audrey Hepburn with a cat sitting on her shoulder, synonymous with the Breakfast At Tiffany’s advertising. Or many of the classic James Bond posters such as Thunderball, Diamonds Are Forever and Live And Let Die (among others). Or how about Barbarella?

There are a few sides of McGinnis on display in this book which readers might not be as familiar with, of course. The man is coming up for his 90th birthday at some point in the next few weeks and he’s still painting all the time. The way he explains it, it’s almost like an addiction and he does a lot of work now for himself... spanning gorgeous paintings which capture his love of the Old West, including the portrayal of it in his favourite movie ‘oaters’ over the years, and a series of studies of various ladies showing a lot more than he could get away with on most of his covers. He’s even still doing commissions, believe it or not, and I found it ironic that someone who was once the cover artist for Brett Halliday’s Mike Shayne novels was asked to paint some fake pulp cover props for the Robert Downey Jr movie Kiss Kiss Bang Bang... a film which was itself loosely based on one of Halliday’s old novels.

The writing accompanying the pictures in the various sections which make up this mini journey through the artist's vision is pretty straight forward and simple. Nothing complicated and it’s quite well written... giving you the straight facts and enough details to whet your appetite, as do the paintings of course, that there might hopefully be another Robert E. McGinnis book in the works sometime soon. One can only hope so because, frankly, this is a heck of a great looking book... well, how could it not be when it’s filled with McGinnis paintings, many of which eschew the typography of the original novels and show the paintings in their full glory. Some pages even show the original sketches and preliminary versions, including rejected versions of the artwork, and it’s quite fascinating to get a look at this stuff because it gives you an insight into just how much work, asides from the sheer hard slog and talent which always go into painting a picture (bad or good), the artist has to go through in terms of negotiation and compromise. Being a graphic designer myself, I know all about compromise... which is a polite word for it, when it comes to certain kinds of customers.

All in all, The Art Of Robert E. McGinnis is more than just a sound read... it’s a solid and inspirational look at one of the less sung heroes of 20th and early 21st Century commercial art and it really should be on anyone’s list of priority reads if they are into beautiful, visual work. Easily one of my new favourite art books and an absolute pleasure to sit back and breeze through the pages. A must own and I look forward, in my mind, to the possibility of another volume sometime in the, hopefully near, future.