JENIFER

What happens when you ask one of the genre's most imaginative, uncompromising artists to contribute a perverse poem to one of the more effective horror series in recent memory? Nothing less than a controversial portrait of beastly love, animal lust, and the unedited desire to own another human being. Jenifer is a story that explores through equally disgusting and titillating imagery (and characters not quite knowing either themselves or what they are capable of) the point at which we discover that which we thought we owned really owns us! At heart a critical and scathing condemnation of our culture's obsession with ownership and an unapologetic expose of sexual perversion charting the sordid, paradoxical violence and tenderness of romantic relationships, this twisted peep-show of hunger and identity is as emotionally upsetting as it's shocking plot is both morbidly exciting and repulsive.

Never less than original in his fetishistic displays of hyper violence, surreal imagery, and a stylistic approach that alternates between (and sometimes crosses) the baroque and gothic with the dictates of cinematic naturalism, Dario Argento is one of the few 'masters' of horror worthy of the term. Delivering in his graphically violent, beautifully photographed nightmares cinematic worlds that mirror both the external world and internal dimensions of desire and fear, Argento attacks not only the flesh and spirit, the mind and our fragile expectations, but, more disturbingly, the stability and nature of our very perception. By doing so, he likewise challenges the way we perceive both the world around us and the worlds within us. In his ballets of death, desire, and dementia, the mind is every bit as important as the flesh, reaching a subversive poetry that titillates and terrifies with equal aplomb. In Jenifer, he challenges us to re-examine the deceivingly placid world around us, and our interpretation of it.

Jenifer is based on a story by Bruce Jones, which initially appeared in Creepy, and was illustrated by Berni Wrightson. Adapted into a script by Steven Weber, who also stars as Frank, the story is a hotbed of macabre mating, traumatic life changes, and the nightmarish undertones of relationships. Frank, a downbeat cop whose life and attitude have long been descending into self-pitying apathy, discovers a seemingly insane man (Kevin Crofton) threatening a woman with a meat cleaver. When the man doesn't drop his weapon, Frank shoots and kills the man. Comforting the young woman (Carrie Fleming), whose face is hidden from him, Frank discovers that she is horribly disfigured from the neck up. She immediately interweaves her fate with his as he finds, to his mounting desperation and horror, that the system is unable to give her either the compassion or safety that she deserves as a victim of violence. While she can't speak, her body motions -- arousing and repulsive simultaneously -- make her desires apparent, and Frank is mysteriously drawn to her. The film examines Frank's evolvement from repugnance to self-hating attraction as his life and sanity are torn away.

The question of who is a monster and who is innocent -- if anyone -- runs throughout this mature, intelligent script. A study of lust and love stripped of their Hallmark card civility; Jenifer is a cinematic vivisection, painful and messy, yet elegant in its structure and method of telling. Emotional vampirism and physical decadence are the heart of the story, and Argento's attention to characterization anchors the more exotic and fantastical elements of the screenplay in reality. A sordid grain of realism charges the surface plot and thematic context with believability and a grimy unsettling lustre. More impressive is Argento's ability to make the base sexual act between Frank and this mysterious freak repugnantly attractive. The sex is hot and filthy, with Jenifer's obvious physical defects lending further unease to the more disturbing 'inner' irresponsibility of Frank's enjoyment/fear of her body. Of course the major essence of this story is the complex relationship between the two. At one hand Jenifer's need is touching, as is Frank's acceptance of her, taking responsibility for her welfare. On the other hand, they are both exploiting each other, she sucking the vitality from his soul, the semen from his body, and the stability of his marriage while he, a man who should know better, is unable to satisfy the bizarre sexual and psychological cravings her confused mingling of sexual appeal and child-like dependence arouses within him. In lyrical, fetishistic fashion, the relationship explodes, as does their tenuous bond, with Argento's tight pacing, elegant structure, and disturbing emphasis on violence mirroring the more serious questions of perception and culpability.

While many critics and fans suggested that Jenifer announced a lessoning or dilution of Argento's unique aesthetic sensibilities, this mini-movie, packing enough characterization and plot complexity into its running time for two features, is, in fact, a natural progression of Argento's evolving style. While not offering the pure cinema or delirious surrealism of Suspiria nor the hyper violent stylistic verve of Deep Red, Jenifer represents the director's attempts to reach a new, original symbiosis between realism and an implied suggestion of dream-like fantasy. In this, he is evolving, leaving the placidity of The Card Player behind him, and returning to his baroque roots. This marriage of mood-enhanced realism and supernatural overtones, suggested by lighting and angles, fit's the story perfectly, emphasizing the increasingly deviant and sexually repulsive relationship between man and beast -- and the general tone of the film itself. Supporting a fantastic yet possible scenario with an atmosphere that itself coats the everyday beneath a shadow of the macabre, Jenifer approaches the universality of the fable without quite crossing over into the surreal.

Easily the most complex and satisfying of the Masters of Horror episodes, Dario Argento's Jenifer stands out as both scandalous surface story and deeply introspective parable of human frailty, self-blindness, and the dangerous power of love and obsession. Confidently directed, lit with colors that emphasize the internal conflict and evolving harshness of character's internal geographies of lust and hate, the story is perhaps most notable for the power of its images and thematic underpinnings to suggest the inherent destructive power of intimate relationships between men and women, where even good intentions fall to the base instincts of our species to control and devour. Even compassion leads to ruin, and the nature of destruction is found within the confines of one man's concern for another human being. A searing indictment of humanity, this graphically violent yet strangely tender horror show is first and foremost a tragedy. As such, it doesn't allow us to distance ourselves from the terror, and inspires us to question our own attitudes. Argento has crafted in Jenifer nothing less than art. Mirroring the psychological differences between love and hate, and the moralistic paradoxes of exploitation and compassion, with a visual parade of jarring ugliness and erotica, Argento's ultimate triumph is in creating a film that reveals the ultimate destruction and decadence of even the most selfless motives. . . And leaves us, much like Jenifer's male victims (or are they victimizers?) drained, disgusted, yet wanting more.

Happily, Anchor Bay gives us more on a disc just packed with extras. Featuring the picture in a 16x9-enhanced 1.77:1 transfer, the visual clarity of Jenifer lives up to our expectations. Clean, clear, and generous in detail, the colors are bright and solid, and the depth perception aided by a lack of grain or visual disruption. Audio is likewise satisfactory, including Dolby Digital 5.1 and 2.0 Surround Sound that puts Jenifer right in your living room (where, despite her face, you know you would take advantage of her!).

Extras, of course, are the real celebration here, including an Audio commentary by Weber and the DVD producer that, while not as welcome as a talk with Argento would have been, is nevertheless exciting and informative, covering several distinct aspects of the production. Webber is funny, easy going, and informative, weighing in about the genre in general, his love for the Creepy story that inspired his script, and both Argento and his co-star. Weber describes the depth to which his beautiful co-star took herself to become the animalistic, uninhibited Jenifer, how the 'love' scenes went perhaps a little too far, and the amount of freedom people experience while wearing masks, among many other intriguing tid-bits. Full of analysis and memories, Weber's commentary is thoroughly enjoyable. The "So Hideous My Love" featurette, an interview spliced with behind-the-scenes and film footage, deals with some of the thematic areas mentioned above, examining the contrasting sense of attraction and repugnance which the characters inspire. Here Argento discusses how he never felt confined or as he was working for television, and how he approached Jennifer's character, treating her as a person/thing/creature without a past.

"Working With a Master," a Dario Argento tribute, is the next extra, wherein that craftsman's visions and style are extolled by such personalities as Tony Musante, Carrie Anne Fleming, and Claudio Simonetti. "ON Set: An Interview With Steve Weber," while repeating some of the information discussed in the commentary, is bursting with the thespian's personality, as he waxes enthusiastic about Creepy, artist Bernie Wrightson, and the process of adapting the comic into a screenplay, aided by series producer/creator Mick Garris. Yet another interview, this time with actress Carrie Anne Fleming, reveals a beautiful, intelligent woman. Her thoughts about the missing 'penis' scene is intriguing and comedic, and her memories of working with a caring, almost paternal Argento well worth a listen. "Script to Screen," the next supplement, highlights 3-4 major scenes of the written script as the film's action is being played, with behind-the-scenes footage of Argento and cast/crew preparing for sequences and shooting. Not as robust or informative as the other pieces, this is nevertheless an interesting addition to the package. "Behind The Scenes: The Making of Jenifer" is a bit misleading, as it prepares one for an in-depth documentary about the film. Instead we see more footage of behind-the-scenes activity as cast and crew prepare for scenes, joke around, and work.

Of particular interest is the time spent with FX ace Howard Berger in "The Make-Up of Jenifer". Berger discusses various aspects of his infatuation with Argento, his makeup, and the film with the leading lady as he applies a make-up appliance to her face, step-by-step. An all around fun time is had by all, and you come away feeling as though you had spent serious time with these people. Trailers of all the MOH episodes are also included, along with a still gallery, and a standard if well written bio on Argento. A screenplay and screen saver are included for home computers with DVD-ROM, and, lastly, a neat little trading card of Argento rounds out this lovingly produced, intensive DVD package of love and lust.

Review by William P. Simmons