Is there a limit to human depravity?
However, the inventive mind, the resourceful subconscious, the curious, and boiling with hormones youth will wonder why he should not give full freedom to his sexual desires. Morality is not quite on guard as yet and the law is busy with real killers, letting the youth ruin his life before he fully matures sufficiently to understand that sex is a river of fire that must be banked and cooled by a hundred restraints if it is not to consume in chaos both the individual and the group.
A misshapen (by circumstances and chance), the volatile mind cannot anticipate a limit to any warped ideas and highly visceral imagery. Then there’s the perverted mind, after which there’s the clinical sex addict. The list goes on and so do the production of such films, however, this one’s a little different, with its deranged mood, the high-strung mystery, getting lessons in adolescence, not that we need those, not with Alexa around.
The disfigured male adolescent fantasy can become disturbing and extremely dangerous, volatile, and get plenty tangible, if not channeled appropriately, and director Marcel Sarmiento (Heavy Petting, 2007) knows that well enough to make a strange little film, where there’s a naked woman in the treehouse (or the basement, than the good old fashioned flesh magazines to get off on).
Bullshit, I’ve watched highly effective films where the boogeyman or the kills are not shown and only spoken of.
Do you really suppose that would work, as it did before when we didn’t see real boogeymen on live television every single day? With the television bombarding our senses with scenes of bloodshed and controversy and misogyny and then there’s the female nudity in films.
Therefore, to lessen the impact of the fascist pigs burning all kinds of flags and massacring over 400 children (between 6-18) at a school in a land already distanced for its generalized negativity, and rightly so. The media machine is huge and we, as a country haven’t even learned to return random smiles, although we have won an Oscar, plenty Gold Medals at the Olympics, a Cricket World cup, Nobel Prizes in Nuclear Physics and Particle Physics, and now we don’t wanna jump ship anymore, well not all of us. I’m rambling.
Deadgirl, explores adolescence in its own very uncomfortable (and pretty damn effective) manner and the symbols used here are downright grim, dreadful, depraved. The film challenges the conventional friendships of young boys after a blood-curdling discovery at a nearby morgue.
What happens next is for you to watch or not.
Deadgirl is not for everyone, not even for every gorehound, for the simple reason that the body-horror (although extreme) is upstaged by the performances of the three leads, the ‘deadgirl’ (Jenny Spain) and the dark and swift direction that not only drives the film, but drives it straight through the heart.
Deadgirl is audaciously atmospheric, using Freddy‘s lair as the main set-piece, where everything comes crumbling down, emotions are torn and a woman is ravaged throughout until the infectious, rotting, and vile intentions of the boys turn their attention to another. It’s smart and it knows it. Deadgirl strikes more than just a chord. It goes full-on El-Mariachi on the unassuming and, by now, highly unsettled viewer.
Bewildering, highly perplexing, excruciatingly confining, sexist (but so is International Woman’s Day), and painfully awkward & conflicting, an amped-up look at the trials of adolescence, horrific, beautiful, sixteen-eighteen-year-old boys are Lucifer‘s minions and a recurring theme of longing, coupled with the perverse nature we all seem to be nursing at one point or another; Deadgirl could be a personal experience, it could be the worst film you’ve ever watched. It could even make you wonder if this kinda shit were to happen in real life, would you partake of it?
I would not!
Sure, anything you say, buddy, anything you say.
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