A Review of
Dr. Caligari, 1989
You might remember walking into the candy store when you were little. Out of child-like curiosity, you would walk further into this mysterious place without being able to get your eyes off of the walls of vibrant and endless possibilities for a sugar rush. With the background noise of jellybeans and chocolate covered raisins being scooped up from giant containers you would salivate at the thought of taking home all your favorite candy. The struggle was real.
Watching 1989's Dr. Caligari is a similar occurrence. The avant-garde, mind-melting experience can be compared to David Lynch's Eraserhead or a Salvador Dalí painting come to life. Of course, everyone shares the images below—and rightly so—where a wall of flesh comes to life to get a taste of Laura Albert who plays a nymphomaniac housewife named Mrs. Van Houten (fun fact: Laura Albert became a stuntwoman; she is still working, but has in recent years gone through some financial trouble).
All too familiar is the exploitation of the "art film." When is something art? When is something mere garbage? I like to think that there is no answer. If an image captivates you and doesn't captivate someone else it doesn't mean that you are wrong. It simply means that your world-view is different than theirs. I have always loved art-house films. I can remember watching The Baby of Mâcon (1993) directed by the incredible Peter Greenaway and thinking I had seen the greatest story ever told. So yeah, we're all different. I only say that because I haven't found many people who like that movie. Everyone that knows Greenaway's work always talks about The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, & Her Lover (1989) which is a great film—don't get me wrong—but, in my opinion, not as aesthetically pleasing as The Baby of Mâcon. Anyway, back to the insane asylum. Dr. Caligari follows the exploits and experiments of the granddaughter of the great Dr. Caligari from 1920's The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and is the kind of film that you will either love or hate. I love this film. I do, however, have a distinct memory of sharing this film with people while I was in high school and finding no one that shared the same feeling.
Watching 1989's Dr. Caligari is a similar occurrence. The avant-garde, mind-melting experience can be compared to David Lynch's Eraserhead or a Salvador Dalí painting come to life. Of course, everyone shares the images below—and rightly so—where a wall of flesh comes to life to get a taste of Laura Albert who plays a nymphomaniac housewife named Mrs. Van Houten (fun fact: Laura Albert became a stuntwoman; she is still working, but has in recent years gone through some financial trouble).
All too familiar is the exploitation of the "art film." When is something art? When is something mere garbage? I like to think that there is no answer. If an image captivates you and doesn't captivate someone else it doesn't mean that you are wrong. It simply means that your world-view is different than theirs. I have always loved art-house films. I can remember watching The Baby of Mâcon (1993) directed by the incredible Peter Greenaway and thinking I had seen the greatest story ever told. So yeah, we're all different. I only say that because I haven't found many people who like that movie. Everyone that knows Greenaway's work always talks about The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, & Her Lover (1989) which is a great film—don't get me wrong—but, in my opinion, not as aesthetically pleasing as The Baby of Mâcon. Anyway, back to the insane asylum. Dr. Caligari follows the exploits and experiments of the granddaughter of the great Dr. Caligari from 1920's The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and is the kind of film that you will either love or hate. I love this film. I do, however, have a distinct memory of sharing this film with people while I was in high school and finding no one that shared the same feeling.
It's a great time to be alive. As long as movies like this exist, I'll be happy.
Dr. Caligari is played by Madeleine Reynal who holds only one other credit on IMDB. She is beautiful in this movie and spends most of her time transferring glandular brain fluids from one patient to another. The feel of the film seems to mirror the chaos going on within the minds of the
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| "That smell of burnt flesh - always reminds me of something." -Dr. Caligari |
patients and most of all, Dr. Caligari herself. There is a balanced mix of vibrant colors and emotional dread. Everyone in the film wears either yellow or pink. I hate both colors, but in this movie, they look so cool. I think it was a brave choice and one that works. The idea behind Dr. Caligari's unusual and cruel experiments is that she hopes to balance out the crazy among all of the patients. Not the worst idea, but for these guys obviously not the best. We are soon introduced to a couple who become concerned with Dr. Caligari's techniques and talk with their father, who is a doctor, about confronting the depraved Dr. Caligari. Unfortunately, he falls victim and is injected with brain fluid from the nymphomaniac housewife turning him into a sex-fiend-transvestite.
And they were all yellow.
Those fingernails though.
"I dunno what the hell's in there, but it's weird and pissed off, whatever it is."
-Clark (The Thing, 1982)
A candy filled orifice—one of the many spectacular images of this movie.
So I'm not sure you'll ever read a bad review from me. Maybe you shouldn't take this too seriously. Overall, this is a highly entertaining movie. It is not true that you can't get this on DVD. The producer of this film Joseph F. Robertson later founded Excalibur Films (The adult video site). You can actually buy this on their website and it comes in a great transfer. These are all screenshots from my personal copy from Excalibur so you be the judge. This wacky art film is celluloid madness that should be watched by everyone.
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