THRILLER: A CRUEL PICTURE

True to its tantalizing title, Thriller: A Cruel Picture is both thrilling and unapologetically cruel in its emphasis on carnage and carnality. This bruise in the celluloid arm of genre cinema neither plays by the established rules of a medium largely controlled by special interest groups nor bows down to the surprisingly conservative philosophical approaches of the horror genre - a field which often drags out its titillations only to destroy them by the re-establishment of law at movie's end. In fact, slapping the face of audience expectation and polite society, this grim gem seeks no friends; it welcomes enemies with an unbridled enthusiasm for debauchery and a startling honesty, unafraid to look clearly at the amorality of an existence void of a moral security continually promised by elders and government but rarely delivered. A scathing attack against complacency, this modern incarnation of the ancient revenge tragedy is an uncompromising descent into sexual objectification, moral depravity, and slow-mo violence refusing to allow audiences the aesthetic safety nets of moralizing supplied by too many other exploitation films. Scathingly violent and violently apathetic, the filmmakers approach to this minimalist captured, emotionally harsh story is brutally honest, capturing sexual violence and the moral deterioration of believable victims and victimizers in a decidedly deadly manner, never loosing sight of its commercial need to exploit the same terrors which it uses as tools of empathy.

In a story as harsh as its photography is blunt, evoking a disturbing sense of naturalism that makes the subject matter that much more provocative (and hurtful), Frigga (Lindberg), a wide-eyed innocent, is sexually assaulted amongst a rural landscape whose contrasting natural beauty lends an air of disturbing tranquility to the shocking violation of rape. Damaging her mind, this attack against her body also ravages her psyche, leaving her mute and antisocial in a callous world. Sent by her well-meaning yet inept parents from the safety of home into town for psychological treatment, one day she misses her bus. Not wishing to be late, she accepts a ride from a misleadingly friendly Tony, a pimp-cum-drug dealer who abducts her, hooks her on heroin, and enlists her as a hooker in his harem. Keeping his women emotionally isolated from their families and any promise of help, Tony submerses Frigga into the sex trade underworld. Giving her John more than he expects, she rakes her nails down his face and flees. Unable to procure her freedom because she now has a dependence on Tony's heroin, she expects abuse when she returns; she doesn't expect to have cut her eye out! Seemingly accepting her fate, numb and emotionally devastated, when she learns that her parents have been killed she snaps -- and this angry celebration of violence and vengeance kicks into high gear. Fueled by the hatred inspired by her rape and degradation, Frigga learns in an unrealistic amount of time karate, the fine art of driving an automobile, and the use of firearms. What ensues is a bloody, bawdy, and nihilistic revenge tragedy.

Directed with intensity, emotional honesty, and technical fluidity by Vibenius (himself second unit director for none other than Ingmar Bergman), this precursor to the even grittier Breaking Point is a vivisection of decency, stripping away any pretense at morality. The story and filming techniques force us to look long and hard at the violence and depravity of which the human animal is capable. Lacking even the juxtaposition of traditional family values with the cannibalistic amorality of the savage mountain clan exhibited in such carnal classics as Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes, Thriller tortures the viewer emotionally no less than Tony torments Frigga physically, forcing us to take part in the total annihilation of a spirit - the debasement of a personality - mangling heart and mind no less than flesh in its refusal to let us look away or comfortably judge.

Vibenius refuses to lend us the authority or clear vantage point from which to condemn or commend the actions of everyday people engaged in viscous acts of damnation. There is no salvation or hope offered in this celluloid wound, no perch on which the director allows himself or us to perch. In fact, Vibenius consciously adapts no moral point-of-view or tone of judgment; his vision is that of a far-removed God watching events without taking a hand in their outcome. This sense of amoral objectivity lends an even greater degree of terror and revulsion to the putrid proceedings, allowing us none of the moral superiority so often hiding as subtext in genre product.

Including over twenty minutes of previously censored footage, removed by AIP when it was released theatrically as They Call Her One Eye, this fully uncensored version of the film retains not only the infamous eyeball removal scene (ouch!) but, more importantly for both exploitation baseness and the thematic structure, the base sexual pornography of the hardcore scenes wherein our heroine is used and abused. These scenes of smut are purposefully trashy and debasing, further suggesting the humiliation, objectification, and terror that her character undergoes. In this, these scenes are little different than the intense, painful to watch rape scenes in Death Wish and Death Wish (2), save for these are unapologetically hardcore, and thus even more effective.

While Vibenius focuses his camera on sexual and violent extremes, catching the abuse in the graphic nature expected in exploitation, his orchestrating of carnage is both realistic and surreal. Devoting his camera to naturalistically played outbursts of suffering, torture, and death, he lends a nevertheless dream-like quality to his fem fatale's vengeance by slowing down the pivotal action scenes - those moments when Frigga, named after a Nordic Goddess, wreaks revenge on her despoilers. While these slow-motion effects become a bit much, they slow down dramatic time, focusing on the vengeance which this picture so often stresses. A dream logic and surreal sensibility kicks in, wherein time and common sense are slowed down, subverted by Frigga's rage. A confusing, mean-spirited ménage of sexual enticement, repulsiveness, and fury, at once both art film and hardcore homage, Thriller occupies its own thematic and stylistic geography. Purposely void of the polish or posturing for popularity exposed in Tarintino's Kill Bill, this peon to perversion seeks to hurt rather than comfort. It achieves this goal admirably.

Just as admirably, and after much effort, Synapse is no less admirable in their treatment of such an undervalued thriller. The presentation of this graphic piece of sin-cinema is in a loving 1.78.1 anamorphic widescreen which, despite some occasional grain and softness offers a clean, concise picture. The motion is captured in surprising clarity, and the colors, lending the dismal, depressing scenes disturbing polish, are vibrant and pleasing. Audio is just as worthy of praise, consisting of Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono sound. The film may be enjoyed in Swedish with optional English subtitles, or dubbed.

While extras for the R release feature only the They Call Her One Eye theatrical trailer and liner notes, this specially restored Limited Edition DVD package treats the movie with generous respect, surrounding the feature with supplements that offer audiences historical, social, and aesthetic perspective. These extras cover everything from production to publicity, weaving together a balanced approach both informative and entertaining. Included are extensive still galleries, including rare photos behind the scenes, and most tasty, nude photos of lovely nubile nymph Christina Lindberg! These are followed by original television spots, theatrical trailers, and outtakes. An alternate 'Harbor Fight' sequence is reconstructed for us, and, more excitingly, "Thriller: A Cruel Lab Mistake" enthralls us with rare photos from scenes which were lost due to a handling error by the Film Lab. An abundance of exploitation goodness, this is followed by "The Story in Pictures," which shows the general story in photos, and bibliographies for the actors and director. Of special note herein is "In Bed With Christin" (a photo gallery), the wonderfully obsessive moving-pictures-montage, and, finally, liner notes. More of a challenge than an invitation, Thriller is an uncompromising assault against the nerves and the heart, brought to you in its uncensored gory-glory with care and affection by Synapse. Love it or hate it, one thing you won't be able to do is ignore it!

Review by William P Simmons