TIFF 2012: ‘Berberian Sound Studio’ not merely a genre exposé or a technical exercise

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Berberian Sound Studio
Written by Peter Strickland
Directed by Peter Strickland
UK, 2012

Unless someone conjures up The Gaffer Murders, Peter Strickland’s Berberian Sound Studio must be the most affectionate fictional feature-length tribute to a specific technical discipline of filmmaking ever made. Too often, movies about making movies are happy to stick to generalities and well-worn tropes; the demanding director, the exiled writer, the beleaguered star, the starlet no one takes seriously. Strickland takes the opposite tack, luxuriating in the minutiae of moviemaking as a means to investigate not only our relationship with screen violence, but the dynamics that lurk within those who seek to conjure it.

Its ostensible hero, Gilderoy (Toby Jones), is a British sound engineer brought to Italy in what appears to be the 1970s to work on a horror film directed by the enigmatic Santini (Antonio Mancino). As Gilderoy begins work on the film, whose graphic violence he is clearly unprepared for, we never witness the excerpts that Gilderoy toils on – only Gilderoy’s pained reaction. (Of course, we do hear the meticulous audio.) Reel-to-reel tape, editing bays, and single-sided editing razors are lovingly framed. The actors brought in for overdubs – the singers, the screamers, and the goblin-voicer – are shrouded in darkness; their craft is something holy here. Yet, thankfully, Strickland’s film is much more than an aesthetic celebration.

Berberian Sound Studio is most simply described as an almost exact cross between the narcotized surrealism of David Lynch’s Mulholland Dr. and the ocular meta-horror of Bigas Luna’s Anguish. It shares with the former a willingness to toy with identity and to comment on the decadence and corruption inherent in filmmaking, and borrows from the latter the unlikely combination of giallo atmosphere and self-conscious humor. That it seems equally content to borrow from any number of chilly cinematic touchstones (especially Lynch) means that, occasionally, Strickland’s film flirts with pastiche – but there’s too much subtext lurking within Strickland’s film to accept it as mere homage.

For starters, there’s the film’s surprisingly critical, maybe even unsentimental take on horror, and giallo in particular. Santini, at first trumpeted as a genius and an inscrutable master of his domain, ultimately emerges as a fatuous womanizer whose tendencies towards manipulating his (mostly female) performers nearly undoes his own production entirely. His speeches about the origins of evil and human persecution – his film, The Equestrian Vortex, is meant to be a “realistic” take on historical witch-hunts – amount to little more than self-interested grandstanding. The women who make up Santini’s cast seem resigned to the fact that in Santini’s world, they’re second-class citizens at best. It’s not a coincidence that giallos themselves tended to be less than kind to women, generally treating them like walking cadavers.

And then there’s Gilderoy himself. Toby Jones, in a performance that can’t help but echo Michael Lerner in Anguish, is in nearly every scene of the film, bumbles his way from one corner of Santini’s massive studio to another, gradually becoming aware that his experience working on the film transcends the screen, and that its horrors may exist both in his own plane of existence and within him. From his regular correspondence with his mother, which gradually turns from idyllic to nightmarish, to his fantasies of rescuing The Equestrian Vortex‘s former star, to the film’s conclusion, in which everything we know about the production is upended completely (the section of the film which owes its greatest debt to Lynch), Gilderoy is the dark heart of the film. Like Berberian Sound Studio itself, he is much more than he initially appears.

Simon Howell

Berberian Sound Studio

1 Comment
  1. Stefan says

    I saw Berberian Sound Studio a couple of weeks ago at Frightfest in London. The audience reaction was either ‘loved it’ or ‘total waste of time’. When I left the theater, I was easily in the second group. When the main story tread of a film is about a guy trying to get reimbursed for a plane ticket, you don’t really have much of a story.

    And to be fair, plot isn’t something this film is really concerned about. The more I think about it, the more I like it. On the surface it is a two hour film about how you should appreciate how hard it is do foley and ADR work. Strickland shows how sound affects the way we perceive images and how it can trick our mind. That’s the where the film succeeds.

    I think people looking for a horror film or want a straight narrative plot are going to be horribly disappointed. This film provides neither. It sets up lots of interesting jumping off points but fails to follow through on any of them. As an experiment, the film is damn near perfect. As a straight movie, it’s a total failure.

    I don’t think that’s a bad thing. We need more experiments in film these days. I can’t say I’ve seen anything like BSS since Hukkle from the guy that did Taxidermia. I don’t know that I could recommend BSS to anyone without providing large caveats letting them know what they are getting into.

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