HARPOON: REYKJAVÍK WHALE WATCHING MASSACRE (ICELAND/2009/JÚLÍUS KEMP)

As if economic collapse and the untimely eruption of Eyjafallajökull weren’t enough, Iceland is now receiving mixed attention for their first contribution to the torture porn genre. Featuring something of an alternative ‘all-star’ cast – Gunnar Hansen of Leatherface fame, Nae from Inland Empire, an extra from The Bill – Harpoon: Reykjavík Whale Watching Massacre takes place aboard a whaling ship, where a dozen international tourists are hoping to see the giant creatures in their natural habitat. But when the ship’s captain mysteriously dies, it is up to a spooky lank-haired individual to come to the rescue. At his suggestion, the passengers relocate to his family’s rickety old ship, little knowing that this is to put them in further danger.

From the film’s subtitle alone, it is clear that director Júlíus Kemp was planning to take more than just Gunnar Hansen from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Despite some superb photography of the Icelandic landscape, Harpoon is no different from any other slasher flick. Its top priority appears to be reminding its audience that the film is Icelandic – we hear references to Sigur Rós, a passenger singing Björk over the intercom, an older woman translating insults into Icelandic. Additionally, the film’s light-hearted attempt to show a cross-section of international holiday-makers actually ends up insultingly simplistic, as seen in Hostel. But in all fairness, Kemp was never going for the Oscar, and all things considered, the film is quite a fun little jaunt with enough blood and guts to keep your average gore-whore entertained.

THE ROMANCE OF ASTREA AND CELADON (FRANCE/2007/ÉRIC ROHMER)

Set in rural Gaul in the 5^th century, French directing legend Eric Rohmer’s swan song concerns the love between shepherd Celadon and shepherdess Astrea. The young lovers are blighted by the disapproval of Celadon’s parents, but when Astrea mistakes Celadon’s use of a pretend girlfriend for infidelity, the relationship buckles under the strain. Having witnessed Celadon run into the river, Astrea believes that he has drowned and finds herself inconsolable. However, Celadon is kept alive by a group of nymphs who give him the confidence to return to the village in the hopes of finding Astrea again and winning back her heart.

In essence, it’s a simple Romeo and Juliet story in a bucolic setting. Rohmer presents his youthful protagonists as victims of circumstance, their core emotions otherwise unshakable. But as pure as its message is, The Romance of Astrea and Celadon takes a long time to say ver little. Too much of the film is afforded to characters literally reading poetry. What frustrates most however is that the romantic hysterics see no representation in the mise-en-scène – with the beautiful sweeping backdrop of a verdant valley, it’s a disappointment that the battle of emotions is left entirely up to the young cast, who appear a little wet behind the ears. To put it bluntly, one could just as easily be watching an amateur production in the woods. An undercooked, inflated melodrama which often feels like Shakespeare manqué, The Romance of Astrea and Celadon should only be seen by Rohmer completists.

HIGH SCHOOL (USA/1968/FREDERICK WISEMAN)

Opening to the soulful voice of Otis Redding, documentarian Frederick Wiseman’s High School studies the lives of students at Northeast High School in Philadelphia. A typical day in the students’ life is shown through short vignettes of lessons and break times, the camera occasionally catching their faces in naked close-up. Wiseman frequently makes connections by juxtaposing similar clips. A Spanish teacher coaxing her pupils’ enunciation is compared to a music teacher mouthing the beat of a timpani. A gymnastics lesson, voyeuristically shot, rhymes with a later shot of girls preparing for a fashion show. The school day neither begins nor ends clearly, the activities within it in a haphazard order.

Wiseman is known for his unflinching cinema vérité manner, and High School is a brilliant example of why this works so well. The editing could almost have been pre-determined, short snippets of drama only staying moments on the screen. Occasionally, the subjects appear conscious of the camera and change their behaviour accordingly (the teachers in particular), but whether this impedes or ameliorates the role of the film is up to the viewer. What is most significant about the film is that the students are almost entirely unheard beyond chatter and laughter. It is not entirely clear as to whether or not this was deliberate, but needless to say the effect is a little sinister at times. Interestingly, the film was banned in Philadelphia for this reason, although its subjects later claimed it was an accurate depiction. An unusually gripping watch.

BIRDEMIC: SHOCK AND TERROR (USA/2008/JAMES NGUYEN)

Birdemic: Shock and Terror tells the story of a San Francisco town plagued by bird attacks. Our protagonist is Rod, a software salesman who falls for a model he passes in the street. The two hit it off and end up in a motel for the night. The next morning, the couple is woken up by eagles squawking outside the window. In fear, they join forces with another couple in the adjacent room, driving across the city in a bid to avoid further attack by the birds and rescuing two young kids along the way. On their travels, they encounter an eco-warrior who helps them understand the birds’ antagonism. But even with their newfound bravery, the group is unable to rid themselves of the avian infestation.

From the above description, Birdemic might sound like a rip-off of Hitchcock’s The Birds, but it’s clear from the beginning that the Hitchcock estate has no reason to be concerned (asides from Tippi Hedren inexplicably making a cameo). Shot on a budget of $10,000 (that much?), this third feature by salesman-turned-director James Nguyen defies belief with its shockingly poor photography, acting, screenplay, sound and special effects. It is the latter attribute which pushes this film from Z-movie to abominable cult classic – the CGI eagles are often seen aimlessly flapping in a fixed position, completely defying scale and proportion and presenting no real threat. An unintentional belly-laugh from start to finish, Birdemic is a new category of bad film, and should be seen by everyone.

If I haven't convinced you, check out the trailer

THE HUMAN CENTIPEDE (FIRST SEQUENCE) (NETHERLANDS/2009/TOM SIX)

An exhausted trucker, defecating on the roadside after a long haul, is shot soundlessly by a trench-coated man in sunglasses. So begins Tom Six’s notorious horror film, modelled in the manner of Hostel or Saw but ending up much more like Videodrome. Our main characters arrive in the form of American tourists Lindsay and Jenny, two naïve gal-pals trying to navigate their way across Western Europe. Broken down on a Landesstraße in Germany, the girls are taken in by the enigmatic Dr. Heiter who spikes them with Rohypnol. The addition of Japanese tourist Katsuro allows Heiter to begin his experiment and fulfil his twisted dream – to make a human sewage line.

It is hard to know how to react to The Human Centipede (First Sequence). Clearly, the main goal of the film is to repulse, which it manages in abundance thanks to lingering shots of the centipede in ‘motion’. What makes the experience incredibly uncomfortable is the inherent comedy in Heiter’s mission – it’s hard not to laugh at Katsuro’s confused anger. While it is never explained, one can assume that Heiter’s goal has an erotic outcome, but the campy acting makes it hard to take seriously. But while to many it may just be a juvenile gross-out movie, The Human Centipede is at least an interesting exercise in suspense, and the next logical step in torture porn. A sequel of sorts is on its way, leading one to ponder what other dastardly schemes Heiter has in mind (a digestive ouroboros?).

THE FLICKER (USA/1965/TONY CONRAD)

A handwritten statement at the beginning of The Flicker warns that the filmmakers accept no responsibility for any “physical or mental injury” caused by the film, namely epileptic seizures. A white screen is interrupted by the occasional black ‘flash’ before returning back to white, resulting in a flicker. The switch between the two becomes quicker and more frequent, to the point that it is difficult to judge what is on screen at any given time. The flicker’s hypnotic effect, if one is constantly watching it, can result in colourful speckles known as phosphenes appearing on the eye, leading to potential hallucinations. Shortly after the flicker reaches its peak speed, the film decelerates to a white frame, an abrupt conclusion to a bumpy ride. The unusual synth soundtrack, resembling an electronic scraping sound and a pneumatic drill, accelerates in time with the flicker, enhancing its bewildering effect.

Though its comical warning wouldn’t look out of place at the beginning of a fifties B-movie, The Flicker’s ideology and form align it with some of the best structural films of the period. Artist Tony Conrad’s deceptively simple half-hour short essentially narrates the structure of any film, and as the black and white screens alternate increasingly quickly, they appear to fuse into a steady image, a deception led by the varying speed of the flicker. It may have been repeated countless times since, but The Flicker stands out as a fascinating experiment in consciousness and perception, alongside artist Brion Gysin’s hallucinogenic device, the Dreamachine.

(An interactive flicker-effect experiment can be found here - not recommended for those with epilepsy)

HLEMMUR (ICELAND/2002/ÓLAFUR SVEINSSON)

Hlemmur is the name of the main bus terminal in Reykjavík, and forms the stage for this brief documentary. The subjects, a group of down-on-their-luck homeless men who treat the station as their home, are allowed to speak for themselves, the camera rarely acknowledged. Many of the men share in common a love-hate relationship with alcohol, a clear catalyst to their emotional and physical deterioration. One supposedly reformed character chuckles as he recalls his dramatic weight loss during a particularly bad drinking binge, while another man in his fifties blames poor healthcare programmes for his severe depression. The film is bound together with clips of the city at different points in the day.

Watching it in the climate of the ongoing recession, in which Iceland has suffered huge economic collapse, Hlemmur feels oddly premonitory. Placing focus on Iceland’s have-nots, the film paints a gritty, unglamorous picture of urban Reykjavík with no aspirations to pay further into the otherworldly image of the country often portrayed in the arts. Hlemmur’s biggest appeal is undoubtedly its delicate soundtrack, written and performed by Sigur Rós. Their involvement with the film has seen the DVD become a coveted collector’s item alongside a book of the band’s sketches, but the film and music scarcely harmonise and work best independent of each other. Although patchy and often light-handed on commentary, Hlemmur does its best to never contrive facts or events, and thus succeeds as an emotive vérité documentary, giving voice to those whom society has brushed away.

THE AGONY OF BYZANCE (FRANCE/1913/LOUIS FEUILLADE)

The Agony of Byzance depicts the Sack of Constantinople in the 13^th Century. Stood outside the city in full view of its terrified guards, Muslim soldiers prepare for battle. Emperor Constantine takes responsibility for his Christian subjects, arranging his own soldiers and comforting the rest of the citizens. Each opponent prays to their god for fortitude before the carnage begins, but while the Muslims seem strengthened with each prayer on the promise that their fallen soldiers will receive paradise, the Christian Byzantines feel they have been forsaken by God, and hold little hope for future battles. Emperor Constantine is only able to absolve his people before the city is inevitably taken over, an act which becomes more brutal than anyone could have imagined.

The Agony of Byzance, while ostensibly a war epic, places much of its attention on the religious aspect of the events. The power of prayer stands out as a central theme, and while it is a little unusual for a French film in the 1910s to appear to champion Islam over Christianity, the message of strong-mindedness is clear. Unlike many contemporary films, it is easy to forget that the entire film takes place on sound stages, or at least the enthusiastic battle sequences would have one believe. The scene in which the city is captured is particularly impressive, hundreds of extras trembling as they await their fate. The ending is slightly macabre, but the film is a reasonable delight if one watches it as a historical reenactment.

THE MIDNIGHT DRIVES (UK/2007/MARK JENKIN)

Andy, a downtrodden man estranged from his ex-wife, gets custody of his children for a week, and decides to take them on holiday to a remote Cornish resort he had frequented as a child. Casey, the younger of Andy’s kids, shows clear resentment for him and even calls his mother to bring them back home, while Gabby seems more concerned with the word ‘holiday’ than the word ‘Dad’. Despite his continual efforts to ignite the kids’ enthusiasm, Andy soon learns that childhood pursuits have evolved quicker than expected. As he struggles to regain his sense of fatherhood, the holiday looks to be turning into a disaster, but when night falls, the family suddenly grows closer as Andy takes the kids on a series of spontaneous drives through the nocturnal landscape.

Wonderfully shot with a palette of reserved colours, The Midnight Drives has much more in common with European film trends than with British kitchen-sink realism. Director Mark Jenkin reveals little about his characters beyond their activities during the holiday, but the film is stronger for it – through revisiting a childhood haunt with his own children, Andy is seen as a man trying to start things again, and it seems only right that this is the version of events we should see. At times the film is a little too subtle to make a big impact, but for the most part it appeals to its audience’s sensitivities. Gently dramatic and full of intrigue, The Midnight Drives is a trip worth taking.

GODS OF THE PLAGUE (GERMANY/1970/RAINER WERNER FASSBINDER)

Shot in the hilariously dispassionate, nouvelle vague-inspired manner common to his earliest films, Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s Gods Of The Plague follows small-time crook Franz as he attempts to reassimilate himself into society. His first priority is to meet with his loved ones again, although the word ‘loved’ here is purely functional. Girlfriend Johanna, a sultry chanteuse, shares an unexpressed joy to be reunited with him again. Her relief is short-lived however, as Franz suddenly falls for an enigmatic woman named Margarethe. The new couple’s dalliances reveal why Franz had grown tired of Johanna, as Margarethe’s apparent moral indifference allows him to return to his life of crime. When he and friend Gorilla are implicated in the murder of his brother, the police turn to Johanna, who has the power to choose how much information to give away about her unfaithful lover.

Gods Of The Plague is an interesting point in Fassbinder’s career, demonstrating a balance between sarcastic parody and hysterical melodrama. The opening credits, putting every cast and crew member in one long scrolling marquee at the bottom of the screen, presages the deliberate listlessness of this would-be gangster flick. A trilingual poker scene featuring a group of effeminate players, including Fassbinder himself, predicts the director’s overt flamboyance in later films. It might not be a particularly great film by any standards beyond its adventurous photography, but Gods Of The Plague has a naïve campness to be treasured, and as such stands out as one of Fassbinder’s more endearing features.