Director: Paul Schrader
Cast: Natassja Kinski, Malcolm McDowell, John Heard, Annette O’Toole
Have I Seen it Before: Never. I did see the original 1942 version of the film several times after recording it off of a late night airing on Turner Classic Movies, just because that’s the kind of guy I am.
I’d love to re-watch that film again. Or any other movie after all of that.
Did I Like It: No. Good God, no.
My first inclination is to not kink shame, but I really want to throw some shade Paul Schrader’s way.
I suppose there’s something akin to effective horror found in an experience that makes me feel perpetually nauseated, but that’s only barely what this movie is about. Nearly every frame of film in which Kinski appears is meant to arouse*, but if I feel—doubly so when she shares a scene with McDowell—ill in all of those instances. It misses its intended mark so completely, I’m also not entirely fathoming why a filmmaker would aim for such a target with their film, especially in what is seemingly a mainstream entertainment. Under no circumstances do I ever want to meet or have a conversation with a person who would find that interesting, or even be less perplexed about the rationale than I am. At any rate, the forthcoming Beyond the Cabin in the Woods episode on the film will be interesting**.
Also, I’m having a significant, dare I say thorough, problem imagining any sort of fictional world where men view 1980s Annette O’Toole as some sort of presence to be barely tolerated.
No kink shame, though.
*Was John Heard supposed to be a sex symbol, even in the 80s? It feels like it might be heteronormative of me to say so, but I really don’t think that was ever the case.
**I might have been the one to recommend the movie for the show, based on Roger Ebert’s appreciation for the film. I think a little less of both Ebert and myself right now. New rule: no more sight-unseen podcast recommendations from me.