May 5, 2011
What has Killer's Moon done to deserve this sentence of being grouped in with comparisons towards A Clockwork Orange? Surely the only grounds to give way to such silly accusations are the white coats suiting the escaped mental patients. Maybe the cunning and, dare I say, terrifying intellect of the mad rapists who have been treated with large doses of LSD. These minuscule factors do not equate to a larger picture worthy of slinging the terms of "droog" around, regardless of how many DVD copies it will sell. Any person expecting anything along the lines of Kubrick's vision of A Clockwork Orange would be sorely mistaken and stupid enough to warrant the blind purchase. To cut down to the bone, Killer's Moon is devoid of any and all morals, carving a rather intoxicating product of objectification with the case being nubile teenagers. The simplicity of the narrative can be evidenced with a rather short synopsis - A hotel holding up stranded schoolgirls for the night becomes the target of 4 escaped mental patients whose mental condition can be likened to "tripping balls". Thus is the portrait of fleshy desires that Killer's Moon colors in. Opinion towards Killer's Moon stretches from outrage to acceptance, leaving no room for compromise and that is the beauty of it - uncompromising, misogynistic, misanthropic, and dreamlike, not for the visuals but for the strange fantasy these men are indulging in.
Poetic, philosophizing rapists prowl the woodlands. Roughly sounds to be the breadth of a popular urban legend but for these very unfortunate young girls, it would seem to be that their god abandoned them tonight to the lusts of a handful. The very thought of a man, driven by rage, fearing no consequence towards his actions, raping the daughters of fathers, sends a chill down my spine. Killer's Moon certainly has its appeal, in both the context of eroticism and incredibly abrasive dialogue credited to be written by famous author Fay Weldon who has had much experience in thrusting women "in oppressive situations". One of the offenders mumbles to himself, reassurance, "only a figment.. only a figment". Killer's Moon has been called many things and many things it is. For reportedly having such a low budget, Killer's Moon is gifted with a vintage aesthetic. Most likely, not on purpose, but the soft grain of the film stock adds a higher level of endearment to be had as age aids as salve, especially when nightdresses presume to get ripped, revealing tender, pink flesh underneath. This is probably the highest form of entertainment Killer's Moon is indebted to bearing - the, at the time, graphic depictions of rape. I am currently in the position to praise the violation on screen without a sigh in regards to retaliation because for what other reason would you be reading about Killer's Moon? This British shocker's lifeblood is gorgeous women being sexually assaulted, with an addition of wonderfully insensitive dialogue such as "Look, you were only raped, as long as you don't tell anyone about it you'll be alright. You pretend it never happened, I'll pretend I never saw it and if we get out of this alive, well, maybe we'll both live to be wives and mothers". This brings to mind the smear campaign ran by Clayton Williams running for Texan Governor in which he takes a stab at John McCain for comparing weather to rape - “As long as it’s inevitable, you might as well lie back and enjoy it”. Killer's Moon is just ripe with subtext and discussion and arguably one of the best exhibitions of retro breasts that I can recall.
Killer's Moon is a very fine form of classy trash, - a thoughtful representation of the perturbed disturbed not without its frequent injections of savage sadism. Watching scallywags empty their tanks of fluid and spoken prose upon wriggling jailbait does come at a cost of immoral obligation but certainly not without its charm. Accompanied by a jazzy, pseudo-orchestral soundtrack that occasional evolves into lounge-like tunes, Killer's Moon benefits from its humdrum opening sequences of giggling girls. Take comfort in the fact that a select few will be chosen for raping, and let the suspense stew. Those prone to rash outbursts upon hearing or viewing "insensitive material" would be best to avoid Killer's Moon as I am not looking forward to mopping up the saliva of a frothing feminist anytime in the near future. Killer's Moon maintains its composure right before the very final scene, when it suddenly changes face to a different beast, ending on a note of the macabre - a distanced view of a lone police officer, oblivious to the world, inquiring as to the shaken nature of the survivors. All the while, a female body is strewn across a bench with a knife protruding from her back in close proximity to the camera. This is just a visual memento of the terrifying night that will forever haunt these girl's dreams, whether or not they are manifested through substance abuse. Knowing full well of the indignity that is Killer's Moon, I can't refute the blatant evidence of vile filmmaking, all I can do is embrace such carnal chaos.
Posted by Soiled Sinema at 12:38 PM
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