DVD review: Basket Case (1982)
It’s obviously a cheaper budget than Henenlotter's later pic, ‘Brain Damage’, with lots of natural shadowy lighting we’d call ‘dogma’ if it wasn’t for the frequent splash of red syrup. The acting, on the whole, is one step better than your average nativity play. And the monster from the basket has a seam along its bobbly blown-vinyl body. But none of this stops Basket Case from being a great little 80s horror. Yes, there’s a lack of budget. But that also means there’s a lack of the cynical concepts and set pieces we get in today’s scare-me-pooless-gore-engines.
There’s so many similarities between ‘Basket Case’ and ‘Brain Damage’, it would be easy to say: if you liked Henenlotter’s later work, you’ll probably like this one. But that seems unfair to the director, despite his admittance that this movie was something of a pet project, never intended for the success it eventually received (after about four years on the NY underground ‘midnight picture’ circuit). Maybe it wasn’t made to impress millions. But you can tell that this is a writer/director who cares about his story and is after something that is truly different. Why else have a character read Caliban’s speech from The Tempest as a bedtime story to young outsiders? Why else pave the way for a shocking end scene with an offbeat panty-snatching segment?
This is good story-telling. Each scene, and each neatly justified death, moves the plot forwards, as our geeky hero (a staple, it seem, of Frank’s work) is changed by the journey of his vengeful brother. Scenes don’t answer their own questions – it’s the scenes that follow that eventually confirm our suspicions. A lot of the dialogue is generic, full of the same unfiltered crap we get in our own, but some of it’s just right: the typewriter mini-monologue, the drunken and jokey confession, the background rabble when one of the hotel customers keeps asking the landlord why he had to spit in his eye to make a point. So what we get is a kind of rushed burst of ideas and quirky truth. Rough and ready, unpolished by concept and cleverness. Yes, this is not Chippendale. But it's not IKEA either. It's that weird oddly-glued thing you find in a charity shop. And the more they say 'it's a little bit crap', the more it lodges in your affection.
But what about the monster? The old trick of keeping him off screen and in the shadows for a good forty minutes does the trick it’s supposed to. But when he does eventually appear, it’s all a bit, well, strange. Not quite a let-down. Just strange. It’s very difficult not to keep thinking: nice puppet. Then again, it’s difficult not to feel involved. Okay, he’s not the Elephant Man, with John Hurt eyes and Dick Smith make-up. But there’s something about the black-eyed muppet that lets you feel for a freak who didn’t ask to be a freak. In fact, by the final murder scene (rumour says that the disturbed crew walked out on this), the word 'freak' is starting to seem unfair.
And about the acting. Sometimes it’s so wooden it’s like you’re watching some arthouse Brechtian attempt to alienate a room of body snatchers - it's that far from real. But that's the intellectual response. Yes, it nicely frames the film’s ‘outside’ sensibility but it gets away from the point. This low budget approach is what makes 'Basket Case' so special. This is not about gilding with a dictionary or exciting the professors. This is about a good story, differently told. Basic entertainment. Set-up, payoff, punchline. We can see the limitations. We realise it’s just a story. But that doesn't stop it stirring up our basic deep-seated whatevers. Yes, 'Basket Case' parties in your attic, as well as your cellar.
I’ve seen this kind of thing in the theatre – the more fake something is, and the more you’re made to realise it, the more powerful the story becomes. You go along with the weird story, the funny acting and the dodgy lights, because, well, you've developed a bit of a crush on the story-teller.
Okay, the shocks and jumps are fairly tame. The humour is the horror, or vice versa. And the gore is basic, often off-camera. But this is not your average monster show. It’s a freak show. And it does its job: cheap thrills, with a dash of thought for the carnies. There's something about Basket Case that's very believable, and touching, and good enough to watch again. Like 'Brain Damage', it's a head-and-heart kind of film that's beyond the cathartic, easy-feel nonsense of the conservative horror genre. A nice fit alongside abnormal greats, like the Todd Browning's 'Freaks', Whale's 'Bride of Frankenstein' and DePalma's 'Carrie', which choose to side with the outsider rather than play to the gallery.
If only subtext could still be this simple. And entertaining.
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