Chainsaw zings, or with laughter against fear. A look back at the Haapsalu Horror and Fantasy Film Festival / Article

The festival, which this year took place from April 26 to 28, is a satellite event of the biggest and probably the most important film festival in the Baltic States, PÖFF (Tallinn International Film Festival “Black Nights”); perhaps this is precisely why this sharp-edged cinematic phenomenon is so ambitious, both in terms of external form, curatorial choices and courage. The festival’s home, the Haapsalu Cultural Center, is easily recognizable by its festival design (don’t be fooled; it has two fully functional cinemas, a cozy basement hall for a more intimate viewing experience, as well as a library). This year, the audience is greeted at the entrance by large-format flowers with sharp teeth, a quote from the classic of the genre, Frank Oz’s 1986 musical comedy “Little Shop of Horrors”, while the iconic film “Suspiria” sets the mood before the screenings. “, 1977) leitmotif created by the film’s director, giallo subgenre legend Dario Argento and progressive rock band Goblin.

Paraphrasing a popular English saying, the devil is in the details (well, horror movies are also in closets, chests of drawers, attics… you get the idea), and details are HÕFF’s strong point – from public activities such as the traditional costume parade on the opening day of the festival and the “living chainsaw” creation, celebrating the opening film of the festival, to the creation of the atmosphere, the sense of community and the attitude – even the mayor of the city is in bloody makeup on the opening night of the festival and is not ashamed to joke that the gathered outfits make him think that some dead people are after all absolutely all kinds of imagination-stimulating.

The festival is opened by the horror musical “Chainsaws Were Singing” by the Estonian film director Sanders Maran – an almost psychedelic masterpiece of horror comedy, which in its aesthetics bravely mixes all the “clots” (slasher) subgenre stamps and conventions with an early 2000s aesthetic.

While watching the work at the next day’s screening (the premiere is overcrowded, all cinemas have 500 seats), I thought to myself that this is how a clip by Mārtiņš Freimans or Laura Reinik could look if it was entrusted to Rob Zombie (Rob Zombie, musician and horror film director). But festival life is harsh and unforgiving, and this is not my first rodeo, so I go to the ottomans of the cozy basement cinema to watch one of the most wonderful discoveries of the festival – the Romanian 1988 animation “The Son of The Stars”.

Looking at the fluid animation technique and the fantastic characters, I can’t suppress the thought – could it be that the animators of the film (Călin Cazan, Mircea Toia) have seen and been inspired by the studio “Dauka” and Anš Bērziņa’s “Fantadrome” (1984-1995)?

Even though “Son of the Stars” is more clearly intended for an older audience and is definitely influenced by the granddaddy of the space narrative, the “Star Wars” series created by George Lucas, the similarities between the fantasy of the animators and the technique of movement seem incredibly close. Although the film is a bit endearingly silly (the story of a boy raised by telepathically gifted aliens after his parents disappear into space, and the spaceship’s computer depicted as a giant levitating brain), all the hope and anticipation about the vastness and possibilities of the universe that is so prevalent in this film is touching. period works.

“Son of the Stars” is also quite socially and ecologically critical, as is usual for the genre of fiction – as a mantra I repeat to myself that every work of art is a mirror of its time, society, social ideals and problems; this axiom does not become less true just because the plot and technique are in another dimension of imagination.

The aforementioned film is only one of, in my opinion, the second most interesting film program at the festival, “HÕFF Retro”, which brings together both classics of the genre (“Gremlini”, 1984) and films from the Baltic region, which illuminates the influence of the USSR on genre conventions and narratives, and my favorite, but rarely seen in Latvia “B-film” or B-category cinema. That’s exactly what I’m looking forward to this year, and with excellent examples, starting with the explosively fun movie “Briesmeklis grozā” by b-classic Frank Henenlotter (he may be known to readers from the 2022 Riga Cinema Museum lecture “Tas ko tu makheti nezint” season) Frankenielene (“Frankenhooker”, 1990), to the absurdist horror “Cannibal! The Musical” (“Cannibal! The Musical”, 1993) by the author of the cult animated series “South Park” Trey Parker, which lovingly caricatures Monty Python stylistics and dry humor, adding a touch of purely American cheekiness.

The festival has eight programs and two competitions, one of which is dedicated to Estonian horror and fantasy feature films –

I go to it with white envy, because cinema does not arise in an empty place and the existence of the competition for the fifth year shows the courage of both financiers and filmmakers not to follow the usual social drama path of Baltic cinema, and to play with the medium.

The already mentioned “When the chainsaws sang” took part in the competition (and won it), but the completely ironic title – “Alien 2 or The Return of Valdis in 17 chapters” (“Alien 2 or The Return of Valdis in 17 chapters”, 2024) attracts my attention. which was created by the anointed film director in the genre, Rasmus Merivoo. In this story, Valdis is a declassified homeboy-astronaut with a QR code on his forehead, who returns to his hometown after a 20-year absence, loses his memory, but does not lose his friends, who, of course, “hold the district” and are ready to rid the opponents of their extra teeth. Social satire and (lest the reader be offended by the use of the term) Eastern European code of humor, which balances so pleasantly between a joke known only to its own people and complete tastelessness.

The second competition is dedicated to the short film format – named after the first fantasy of cinema, Georges Méliès, the competition is part of the Méliès International Film Federation (MIFF) competition. Throughout the year, at European film festivals, these contestants fight for the “Méliès d’Argent” or “Silver Méliès” award, so that in the second round the winning films fight for the “Golden Méliès”. The show brings together incredible diversity, from stories of medieval knights and the nannying of artificial intelligence to the horror of small-town silence that hides the screams of victims. And yet – my gaze is stolen by an 11-minute long film, realized in extreme close-up, through the close-up of the binoculars of a paralyzed woman who can only communicate with eye movements. French director Thomas Palombi’s short film “The Cost of Flesh” asks the question – how much would you be willing to give to speak again?

Needless to say, the film confirms once again that free cheese is only in store, which wants to tear you to pieces.

A lot of fun is also provided by the short film screening of the Estonian genre, which includes both a satire about fairy-tale characters in the modern world, a dystopia about butter wars in a world where the last cow has died, as well as an experimental sports documentary / music video that follows a Japanese marathoner who came to the island of Kiel. to a sad end by falling into the clutches of a local sea monster. Well, Hiroyuki lives at the bottom of the Baltic Sea and milks blue goths!

This year, I see two films from the main program of the competition (I would have gone to the only Latvian representation in the program, Aik Karapetjan’s “Shameless”, but the passage of time is inexorable). “The Soul Eater”, 2024, which debuted at the Rotterdam Film Festival, indicates to the viewer what needs to be seen and understood to such an extent that after the screening, I was irritated in the darkness of the night and walked without fear past a cemetery and a small forest with moderately accessible lighting. The next day, the karmic debt is returned – director Robert Morgan’s “Stopkadr” (“Stopmotion”, 2023) masterfully uses the “uncanny valley” effect inherent in stop-motion animation (an effect when the resemblance to a human image or movement creates cognitive dissonance and inner anxiety) to tell about the emergence of an artist from the cocoon of controlling parental influence, the torment of creativity and the violent price of a repressed psyche. Before the screening, there is an auction in support of Ukraine with various props from the films shown at the festival, which is perfectly disturbing and reminds us of very real horrors right next door. Within an hour, 5,325 euros are donated to defenders of Ukraine.

Driving home, I examine the sweater given by the festival, which depicts a stylized “lion” surrounded by a fiery mane and a giant crab-like creature lurking in the “Haapsalu kuursaal”, and I think. About the capacity of the horror genre, the opportunities to talk about our deepest fears through the screen and the opportunity to overcome this darkness in a friendly circle, and the opportunity to laugh nervously from the beginning, and then completely safely. I also conclude that both Estonia and Lithuania (“Domīgais” (“Pensive”), 2023) have at least one “clot film” of their own.

If there is a filmmaker reading this who is currently considering making one, but doubts its necessity, I can say for sure – it is necessary, definitely necessary. May we all be less afraid.