BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO

Italy, the mid-1970s.

Unassuming British loner Gilderoy (Toby Jones) is a sound engineer who’s built a name for himself working on home-grown industrial documentaries. He’s more perplexed than anyone when he arrives at the titular studio in Rome to discover his latest project is overseeing the sound design and effects on a horror film entitled "The Equestrian Vortex".

Although more interested in getting his expenses paid than the film he’s working on – Gilderoy has no love for the genre – he does find the film’s producer, Francesco (Cosimo Fusco), to be oddly charismatic in his brusque manner. The film’s director, Santini (Antonio Mancino), is typically enigmatic in his initial absence at the studio.

As Gilderoy is welcomed into the sound studio by the larger-than-life Francesco, he immediately feels like a fish out of water: the graphic nature of the film he’ll be working on – a gory witch-hunting yarn (which, aside from a nicely retro titles sequence, we never see) – unsettles him at once; everyone around him speaks an alien language; the flamboyancy and volatility of his colleagues sits ill alongside his naturally reserved manner; no-one seems to be willing to reimburse the costs he incurred on his flight there.

Despite reservations about the content of the film he’s assigned to, and Francesco’s politically incorrect treatment of the actresses in the studio – particularly the rebellious Elena (Tonia Sotiropoulou), with whom he strikes an awkward friendship – Gilderoy persists at his duties. In-between, his lonely existence in a quiet spider-infested apartment are made almost bearable by the letters he receives regularly from his mother back in Blighty.

But, how much can this quiet man take, being locked in a darkened studio for days on end recording blood-curdling screams and hacking at various vegetables in attempts to recreate the sound of limbs being dismembered?

From an early point, we understand that something has to give. And it does. Only, in a manner that’s more David Lynch than video nasty …

It’s not that BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO doesn’t deserve a broader synopsis. But no elaboration is required. In fact, the film works best when you go into it with no preconception above that which I’ve already disclosed. It’s a film about the power of sound in the movies, about horror films and more precisely why they scare us despite us realising they’re not real, and about the things that create real fear in the meantime: isolation, uncertainty, alienation, confusion, paranoia.

Jones delivers a staggering central performance, serving up a character that is at once pathetic, self-serving and sympathetic. There are equal parts gentleness and arrogance to his character, and he conveys both expertly: we like him, but never feel manipulated into doing so.

He’s amply supported by a good international cast, but in fairness the bulk of them are eclipsed by their star and writer-director Peter Strickland’s masterful evocation of era and atmosphere.

The film is visually breath-taking, whether it be the framing of pretty actresses working themselves into a terrified lather for the benefit of their studio microphones or the sight of rancid cabbages which have been chopped up for sound effects moments earlier. Nicholas D Knowland is the cinematographer, and he excels within his limitations (the action is shot almost exclusively within the studio’s walls).

Punctuated by Gilderoy’s increasing unease and the flashing red studio notice of "Silenzio" above its entrance, this is a slow-burning but steadily ascending trip into madness that has to be seen to be fully appreciated. Even if you don’t fully understand the surreal final act upon first or second viewing.

I could go on and on about this film’s style, its little nuances and its themes. I could easily go into lengthy detail about the quality of Broadcast’s giallo-esque score and how the sound design on the film is as stunning as any I’ve ever heard with the horror genre. Maybe I should witter on about how the film plays as a loose homage to gialli without ever becoming one. I could. But I’d be here forever if that were the case: Just go with it.

Artificial Eye have long been one of the UK’s most interesting DVD labels, focusing on films from home and overseas that often tend to be either esoteric or revered within their niche circle. Sometimes, incredibly, they’re both. They continue to impress with their release of BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO, a low-key British film from last year that garnered much critical acclaim upon its limited theatrical run but still managed to pass by largely unseen by those who’d appreciate it most.

Until now, hopefully.

Artificial Eye’s region B blu-ray disc presents the film uncut in a stunning 1080p HD transfer which preserves the original aspect ratio of 1.85:1 and enhances it for 16x9 televisions.

Blacks are unwaveringly solid, colours are strikingly strong and authentic, flesh-tones are natural and images are pin-sharp. All of this is achieved while retaining an organic filmic look and feel about the transfer. Indeed, it’s difficult to imagine how this presentation could be improved upon – it’s most satisfying.

Likewise, the 5.1 DTS Master Audio track employed throughout is flawless. It would have to be really, to pick up on all the wonderful screams, sound effects and quiet moments of discomfort in the studio. There’s also a 2.0 Stereo LPCM mix to contend with, and what I sampled of that sounded great too.

Optional English subtitles do exist in an easily readable format, but they only cater for the portions of the film that are spoken in Italian (roughly 35%).

The disc opens to an animated main menu page. From there, pop-up menus include a scene-selection menu which allows access to the main feature via 12 chapters.

Extras begin with an enjoyably thorough audio commentary track from Strickland. A few pregnant pauses here and there can’t stop this from being a revealing, rewarding listen wherein we learn of his appreciation from gialli, the surprising influences behind the film and how much in awe he is of the power of sound in film. As you’d expect, he sings Jones’ praises. He even offers some insight into the film’s ambiguous ending, despite expressing his desire to leave it open to interpretation.

A 32-minute onscreen chat with the director follows, and can’t help but repeat some of the stuff just heard in the audio commentary. But that’s fair enough, I suppose: commentaries aren’t for everyone. Strickland comes across as sincere, likeable and just a little too self-effacing in this honest and engaging bonus.

A Making Of documentary which clocks in at 47 minutes in length is heavy on Strickland again (avoiding eye contact with his interviewer a lot – again!), but does at least add intriguing behind-the-scenes footage as well as interviews with other principal cast and crew members.

20 minutes of deleted scenes are each presented in HD and introduced by Strickland (either in text, or narration) giving articulate explanations as to why they never made the final cut. We get some excised humour, more third act weirdness and some audio ideas that the filmmaker felt didn’t work so well. It all makes for fascinating viewing.

A gallery of production design stills will prove unexpectedly involving for those wishing to delve even further into the film’s genesis. This proffers 20 minutes of footage, all set to further commentary from Strickland.

Meanwhile, an extended version of the "Box Hill" documentary Gilderoy was working on prior to his trip to Rome comes across like a pitch-perfect 70s take on "Country File" (5 minutes, window-boxed).

The original 1-minute BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO short, as mentioned by Strickland in both his commentary and interview, comes up next. It’s an essential addition to the disc, if only for reasons of completion. In reality this is a lot more primitive and comical than the feature-length film turned out to be, but at least you get to see where his germ of an idea spread from.

Finally, the film’s original theatrical trailer plays very much on the horror angle and perhaps doesn’t offer potential viewers fair warning of the measured pace to come.

BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO is one of the best horror films I’ve seen in ages. It’s intelligent, thought-provoking, insightful and very creepy. Some may find the pace a tad slow (or even challenge its status as a horror picture at all) but if you allow yourself to become immersed in the alien world which engulfs Gilderoy, you’ll soon be absorbed by it all. And, of course, the homages to classic Italian horror won’t be lost on SGM regulars either.

Furnished with a spiffing blu-ray package courtesy of the ever-reliable Artificial Eye, BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO really does come massively recommended.

Also available on DVD.

Review by Stuart Willis