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A modern-day vampire film which re-works the ancient themes of fear and desire.
Jesus Gris (Federico Luppi) is an antique dealer who, with his grandaughter Aurora, discovers a mysterious scarab-like object at the base of an old statue. The statue's previous owner was a 16th century alchemist, and the object turns out to be the Cronos which grants the user eternal life in exchange for blood.
Intrigued, Jesus is drawn into the grip of the Cronos, and when Dieter and his nephew, Angel, hound the antique dealer, Aurora tries to save her grandfather, but she too becomes a part of the thirst for blood.
Film: Cronos - Special Edition
Release date: 28th February 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 92 mins
Director: Guillermo del Toro
Starring: Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman, Claudio Brook, Tamara Shanath, Margarita Isabel
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Horror/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Mexico
Film: Cronos
Release date: 6th February 2006
Certificate: 18
Running time: 88 mins
Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Starring: Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman, Claudio Brook, Margarita Isabel, Tamara Shanath
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Horror/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico
As the first feature of Guillermo Del Toro, Cronos has gained notoriety due to the Mexican writer and director’s more successful later films, including Pan’s Labyrinth and Hollywood blockbusters such as Hellboy.
In 1536, alchemist Humberto Oganelli creates the Cronos device, a small golden casing containing an intricate mechanism and an immortal parasite. The device, designed to bestow eternal life on its owner, is merely the stuff of legend until it is discovered by antiques dealer, Jesus Gris, in the base of a wooden statue. Gris accidentally triggers the mechanism within the device, which clamps to his hand and draws blood.
Agreeing with his young granddaughter Aurora to keep the Cronos device a secret, Jesus develops a desperate thirst, and later allows the device to feed on his blood. Jesus becomes noticeably rejuvenated but has develops a craving for blood.
The existence of the device is also known by the dying Dieter de la Guardia, who assigns his nephew, Angel, the task of locating the statue and its priceless cargo. Angel fails to recover the Cronos device, and later appears to kill Jesus in an attempt to beat him into submission. Jesus lies unconscious during his own funeral, narrowly avoids being cremated and escapes, although his body is rotting. He finds his way to his granddaughter’s rooftop den, where he avoids sunlight by sleeping in her toy box.
Jesus and Aurora search de la Guardia’s quarters for the manuscript explaining how to safely use the Cronos device. They are confronted by de la Guardia and Angel and become involved in a battle to escape…
From unquenchable thirst to slow realisation that he hungers for raw meat and then blood, Jesus’ descent into vampirism is gradual, affecting and, in context, forgivable. As the device rejuvenates the old antiques dealer, Federico Luppi (in a role originally written for Max Von Sydow) gives a portrayal of a man with a new lease of life that is heart-warming, yet tinged with sadness, as Jesus acknowledges the high price of this reinvigoration. The sexual nature of Jesus’ sessions with the Cronos device adds an uncomfortable element far removed from other vampire stories’ rape metaphors – Jesus’ lust for blood rarely involves other people, as he seeks to assuage his bloodlust in a non-violent manner. Scenes showing Jesus distressed over whether to lick spilt blood from the floor of a bathroom are upsetting and wonderfully staged.
Cronos has terrific production standards for a first time feature. Interiors are well-worn and grimy, Jesus’ shop is filled with authentic-looking antiques, and de la Guardia’s quarters above an industrial complex are sinister and sterile. Moreover, Del Toro draws horrific scenes from innocuous events and objects: in particular, the deadly Cronos device itself, with its intricate, syringe-like mechanism, produces some effective chills.
The film is notable for being dual-language – Ron Perlman switches between Spanish and English, and the opening narration is also in English. Del Toro’s disregard for filmic conventions in spoken language pervades other parts of the film, which is filled with pleasingly specific quirks, such as Aurora’s rooftop den, the grandfather’s miniature tea party with his granddaughter, and the grimy crematorium with its nonchalant worker.
Compared to many vampire films, Cronos is concise – thematically, as well as in terms of setting. There is a neat circularity to its features: for example, it is Angel who searches for the archangel, and the image of beetles recur throughout – first crawling out of the statue’s face, then mirrored in the appearance and piercing ‘attack’ of the Cronos device.
While Luppi appears in almost every scene, the supporting cast is equally dependable. Ron Perlman’s Angel De la Guardia is callous and self-centred, providing many of the comic moments in the film, as well as being the most repellent character. His grunting horseplay with Aurora at the beginning of the film is both humorous and deeply sinister, as is his bizarre preoccupation with cosmetic surgery. Jesus’ wife Mercedes is played by Margarita Isabel with sad-eyed humanity, providing naïve warmth to balance the coldness of the film’s villains.
Cronos include many themes that Del Toro would explore in his later films The Devil’s Backbone and Pan’s Labyrinth, particularly the inclusion of a wise but innocent child. However, this film is notable (in Del Toro’s oeuvre - and horror cinema in general) for viewing events through the eyes of an elderly man, thus relegating the child to bystander.
Cronos doesn’t entirely break the mould of horror cinema, however. In particular, the exaggerated, slurping sounds of flowing blood are oddly conventional in a film that appears brave in many other respects, and Javier Álvarez’s score is effective but again adds little to the atmosphere.
It’s clear to see why Cronos secured Guillermo Del Toro’s reputation as an imaginative and resourceful director. It is easily one of the most effective horror chillers of the 1990s, and its casual disregard for cinematic conventions is welcome in a genre that too often veers close to pastiche. It’s visceral, affecting and unusual – and, in its small way, Cronos is a triumph of truly international cinema. TM
Film: The City Of Lost Children
Release date: 30th April 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 108 mins
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet & Marc Caro
Starring: Ron Perlman, Dominique Pinon, Jean-Claude Dreyfus, Daniel Emilfork, Judith Vittet
Genre: Adventure/Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France/Germany/Spain
Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro are names well known among lovers of foreign art cinema, and this fame is justified by the prestige and quality their films boast. Together, they created the beautifully bleak Delicatessen in 1991, which told the tale of a post-apocalyptic world of beastly butchers and underground groups with vigour. Their next film after Delicatessan was La Cite Des Enfants Perdu, known as The City Of Lost Children in English, which was released in 1995, and entered into that year’s Cannes Film Festival.
Like the more recent Hollywood blockbuster Inception, The City Of Lost Children is a story about dreams, and, as with Inception, the story is sometimes confusing yet always intriguing. Krank (Daniel Emilfork), an artificially-created mad scientist resembling a live-action version of Mr. Burns, has found himself aging far too quickly, and realises this is because he does not have the ability to dream. To remedy this, he captures children from a nearby dystopian city to extract their dreams, even if, at the moment, he can only extract their nightmares.
One of these children is the younger brother of a slow-witted circus strongman called One (Ron Perlman in his first major film role). After failing to save his sibling from being seized by the Cyclops’, One finds a group of young orphans who steal for a pair of Siamese twins known as The Octopus (Genevieve Brunet and Odile Malet). One befriends one of these children, a girl named Miette (Judith Vittet), and they work together to find One’s little brother, while trying to evade the Octopus and Krank’s aids…
While the film itself may not be appropriate for children, the story may at first seem like the type of thing one would expect from a children’s movie. The childlikeness of the story works in the film’s favour, as the contrast between this and the more disturbing elements, like the misshapen machinery and devilish cults, help the film achieve a fantastical quality appropriate for a story revolving around dreams. That contrast is superbly highlighted in the film’s opening scene, where a festive scene of a child meeting Santa comes undone when more Santas arrive - these more devious and wicked, as the screen distorts and warps.
What also helps the film’s dreamlike quality is its visual motifs, creating a world that is surreal yet believable. The majority of the scenes are bathed in a diseased yellow, filling the scenes with a sick light that still allows for plenty of shadows. The titular city is a grisly metropolis filled with filthy, twisted buildings and framed by a sea of slime, and Krank’s quarters are a grim mixture of an old submarine and the typical mad scientist laboratory. A lot of imagination has gone into the creation of this film, and the visuals show it.
Sadly, however, at times, it feels like too much imagination has been used, which leads to ridiculous scenes like One and Miette being tied up in a cartoonish amount of rope, and how a single tear from Miette’s eye sets off a chain reaction that ends up saving her from a brainwashed One. Most of the time, the lack of realism works for the film and its theme, but scenes like these tend to distract from the story rather than add to it. At least the special effects used to create them look good, save for some false-looking fleas.
Of special note is the film’s soundtrack, created by constant David Lynch collaborator Angelo Badalamenti. The score of the film perfectly accentuates what is happening on screen, especially the haunting tones it produces during the story’s more solemn, emotional moments. There is also effective use made of the lack of music in some scenes as well - a scene with the Octopus is accompanied by only the ticking of a clock to sinister effect. The theme song of the film, sung by Marianne Faithfull, is also a beautifully performed, yet melancholy piece - a perfect summary of the story.
It is not just the sets and music that make The City Of Lost Children come alive, for what would this hellish city be without its hellish citizens? Ron Perlman is generally serviceable as One, but still less than impressive. The character he is portraying may not be all that intelligent, but scenes like his tantrum at losing his little brother, and the obligatory loud ‘No!’ he screams after believing Miette to be dead make it hard to take him seriously. Judith Vittet, however, is perfectly cast as One’s aid, bringing the role a good amount of cynicism and seriousness, yet with some compassion as well. Daniel Emilfork crafts the greatest performance as Krank, bringing a truly cruel and vicious villain, yet also creating some sympathy for the character in the vein of Edward Scissorhands. The children of the film are effective and never annoying - both actresses playing the Octopus complement each other and bring an air of stern villainy, and Krank’s assistants – his ‘brothers’, a female dwarf and a living brain – are fine accompaniments for the villain.
The City Of Lost Children may not be for everyone; those seeking realism and a plot that is simple to follow may not enjoy it. Some elements of the film may be ridiculous, but it is, on the whole, a well-made film with fine acting and set design, which is beautiful because it is so ugly. GB
Film: The City Of Lost Children
Release date: 30th April 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 108 mins
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet & Marc Caro
Starring: Ron Perlman, Dominique Pinon, Jean-Claude Dreyfus, Daniel Emilfork, Judith Vittet
Genre: Adventure/Comedy/Drama/Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France/Germany/Spain
Belgian directing duo Caro and Jeunet made a dramatic entry into French cinema with the highly acclaimed cult movie Delicatessen, yet their follow-up movie, and their final collaboration, is rarely mentioned in comparison. Does it deserve to be heralded as a beguiling fantasy, or will it forever remain a curio just too bizarre to be truly recognised on its own merits?
Set in a dark, dystopic naval village, the narrative follows circus strongman One (Perlman) who’s little brother is kidnapped by evil scientist Krank (Emilfork). Krank is in the process of stealing children’s dreams in the hope that they will slow down his rapid aging process, as he is himself unable to dream. Assisting Krank in this diabolical scheme is an assortment of strange characters, including Uncle Irvin, a talking brain located in a tank, and six clones who all suffer from falling asleep at inappropriate times (Pinon).
As One desperately attempts to find his brother, he falls in with a group of street urchins working as thieves and pickpockets. However, they are being controlled by conjoined twins known as the Octopus, who are given all the jewels and money at the end of the day by the frightened children. The smartest and most mature of the urchins, Miette (Vittet) takes a shine to One and runs away with him to assist in his mission. The Octopus is not prepared to let one of their best thieves just walk away, however, and hires the Cyclops gang to track her down...
The opening two scenes in The City Of Lost Children efficiently establish the tone of the film straight away. From the surreal opening dream sequence, where a visit from a sweet and gentle Santa, one of the iconic images of childhood, is gradually distorted and twisted until it ends with a child crying and a old man screaming, we cut straight to our protagonist working at his job – in the circus. This would be a suitable permanent location, as the film is constantly populated by unforgettable characters that would not be out of place in a carnival of freaks.
Caro and Jeunet are not the only ones responsible for such memorable and extraordinary imagery: assisting them is a truly heavyweight production crew, which includes costumes by Jean-Paul Gaultier, who provides far more striking and less silly garments than those that he did for The Fifth Element a couple of years later. Darius Khondji’s camera swoops and glides through shots effortlessly, while regular Lynch collaborator Angelo Badalamenti’s score is perfect for creating the dark tone and atmosphere prevalent throughout.
The blend of a directing team on top form and the available quality in the crew combine to conjure up ideas and images that have rarely been seen in cinema. A virtuoso sequence which starts by following a flea on its journey and ends in a Rube Goldberg-esque large scale disaster; a visually stunning meeting-room of monstrous businessmen; and almost any scene involving Uncle Irvin – dripping with flamboyance and panache. The film is one of the most expensive in French cinema history, and it shows. In fact, it is a testament to the work done by Caro and Jeunet that the film looks even more expensive than its actual impressive budget.
It would have been understandable if the actors would have been reduced to mere line recitations while the viewers’ eyes boggle at the scenery around them. Thankfully, the actors rise to the challenge and actually enrich the experience. Perlman didn’t speak French at the time of filming, yet learned all his lines in the language specifically for the film. This actually aids his performance, as his halting, almost monosyllabic delivery gives One a childlike quality in stark contrast to his hulking physicality. Perlman’s early roles in small foreign films such as this and Cronos were interesting career choices, and appropriate for his unusual appearance.
Judith Vittet is luminous as little Miette, and gives one of the finest child performances in recent times. Indeed, a suitable comparison is Natalie Portman in Leon, a film that shares similarities with The City Of Lost Children in terms of the moral ambiguity of its central relationship. Miette and One are diametrically opposed in terms of appearance and age, yet their mental connection becomes increasingly close until it almost becomes romantic. Wisely, Caro and Jeunet do not concentrate on this aspect of the film, instead leaving it open to interpretation.
The central, constant location of the film, Krank’s laboratory, is where the real off-the-wall character acting is to be found. Emilfork plays Krank wonderfully, emphasising his disgusting physical aspects at first, then slowly revealing more subtle details about himself as an individual until our loathing is mixed slightly with pity. Pinon shoulders most of the slapstick responsibility in the film, and it is to his credit that he also adds layers of emotional depth to the clones while channelling elements of Jerry Lewis and Jacques Tati so effectively. Pinon followed Jeunet to his next production, Alien: Resurrection, yet his career never soared as majestically as it should have, judging by his superb work here.
Yet the film is not without its weaknesses. The plot is not as focused as Delicatessen, and gets confusingly convoluted in the middle. However, once the central quest is re-established, and we race towards the climax, the film builds towards a satisfying, if slightly rushed denouement.
A dark and twisted fantasy that is vividly brought to life by both cast and crew, The City Of Lost Children combines elements of the work of Terry Gilliam and Tim Burton with a Gallic sensibility that sets it apart from other films in the fantasy genre. It may not always be the most coherent movie you will ever see; yet there is always a visual or acting delight to keep the eye occupied. Hopefully, the film will one day be reappraised and applauded for its ambition, and, above all, the directors’ commitment to ideas.
