Howl, TheEngland, 1968. A beautiful young woman, Anita (the late Tina Aumont), has been arrested for her participation in a student demonstration. Her bourgeois fiancé, Berto Bertuccioli (Nino Segurini of Nerosubianco,Beyond the Door and Amuck) bribes the police commissioner for her freedom. As Anita tells Berto of her ordeal and (enjoyed?) rape at the hands of the police, he proposes marriage - their wedding being pencilled into his busy diary for a “convenient” day later that week. Feeling trapped by the conventions of her day to day life, the young bride flees, leaving her groom standing at the altar to run away with a passing stranger, Coso (Luigi Proietti) and embark upon a surreal journey together. Any conventional narrative The Howl (originally released as L’urlo) has more or less stops at this point, taking a turn into territory that is maybe most comparable to early Jodorowsky or Fernando Arrabal, ala Fando and Lis or his theatrical works with the “Panic Movement”; stepping beyond surrealism by embracing irrationality and the absurd, while exploring sexuality, sexual politics and counter-culture rebellion. This is the cinema of feeling, sensation and emotion, where we’re exposed to all manner of avant-garde madness; exploding London buses, the police looking like The Keystone Cops, a naked philosophical cannibal family living in a tree, a midget Napoleon dictator, firing squads, talking rocks, medieval minstrels, rape at the hands of soldiers, all with the couple on a path to start a hippie prison riot via a visit to a surrealist’s psychedelic sex hotel and an orgy in a London tube station. It’s as if Monty Python had been allowed to direct a version of Dante’s Inferno, throwing in elements of Alice in Wonderland and On the Road. Of course, the nature of surrealism isn’t simply about filling the screen with bizarre and meaningless imagery - the film is overflowing with metaphor, reference and counter-cultural sentiment. Amongst the dreamlike imagery, political sloganeering and visual gags are clearly visible in the background, scenery is intentionally reminiscent of Hieronymous Bosch’s, Garden of Earthly Delights, quotations from Malcolm X are incorporated into the dialogue, all alongside notable commentary on modern life, sex and sexuality, the church and state, the establishment, war and the usual topics you would expect to be addressed during the generation of “peace, love and revolution.” Although unconfirmed, I would in fact presume that Brass’ film is partly inspired by Allen Ginsberg’s poem, Howl, which holds much of the same sentiment. While Jodorowsky’s foray in this realm of cinema is often more spiritual, open to interpretation and dare I say intellectual, Brass’ efforts are slightly more straightforward, so in many ways easier to understand, from a socio-political perspective at least. For example, an off screen rape scene by marauding soldiers, inter-cut with footage of a raised cannon and a transformed Aumont appearing in bloodied, yet provocative lingerie shouldn’t need too much in the way of explaining. Yet while the overall message is loud and clear, The Howl simply isn’t designed as an easily accessible piece of film; many of the cultural references (such as the use of French revolutionary songs) will undoubtedly go over the heads of the average audience and the fact that it’s also rather devoid of conventional narrative, with one scene of surreal madness rolling into another, is also likely to alienate many viewers. This is however the nature of counter-cultural movements; just as punk rock wasn’t originally designed to be palatable to the masses (regardless of how easily it’s been re-packaged and commodified over the last 30 years), convention challenging cinema is destined to only appeal to a certain type of viewer. As with a song that repeats throughout the film Break, Break Broken; what we’re looking at here is breaking down the conventions of cinema as symbolism for breaking down the conventions of our society. The film also has a notably low-budget approach, with many of the cast extras being amateurs - “real” naked hippies and anarchist students, lending weight to wanting to “challenge authority and convention”, in the expected spirit of 1968 - it is a film of its time and not simply about its time. Simply put, The Howl is a film you will either love or hate, and while leaving little room for indifference, isn’t an experience you will easily forget. Those expecting Brass’ more renowned erotic style could also be in for a shock, as although the film contains quite frequent nudity (in part thanks to the ever lovely Tina Aumont), it’s not really of the same nature as Brass‘ later films (e.g. - lingering and derriere fixated) and is more sex with a statement attached, that of the “let it all hang out”, hippie free-love variety. Cult Epics' release of The Howl was taken and restored from an uncensored negative provided by Tinto Brass himself, so while looking somewhat scratchy and rather below par in places, this is likely to be the best the film will ever look in an fully uncut state. Considering that Brass’ ran into numerous censorship issues and that the film wasn’t actually allowed to be shown in Italy until 7 or 8 years after its initial release, this is also somewhat understandable. As with the Cult Epics release of Deadly Sweet, the film has an informative English language commentary from Brass, giving insight into the film’s making, and its numerous cultural and political references, as well as a rather heart-felt appreciation of Tina Aumont, an actress Brass clearly held in high regard. The Howl is probably most enjoyable if you have a knowledge of the socio-political climate in which it was made or have an understanding of (or participation in) counter-cultural movements. You could if not find yourself starring at the screen for 90 minutes, only to be scratching your head in wonder for several days to come.
|
Disc Details:
Special Features:
Recommended Viewing:
|
