Tom Joad here, with a long overdue return and review of one of my favorite films from this year’s FANTASTIC FEST in Austin:
The Green Inferno (2013):
In the late 80s, growing up as a massive horror fan in Oklahoma posed many distinct challenges. The most glaring of which was the issue of supply versus demand.
Let me tell you something about living in such a rural area: graduating among a senior class of fifty people, in a town with a population of just over three thousand folks (most of whom lived without cable because they didn't have the option) it didn't take long for my buddy Monte and I to consume every available title in the horror department of the local video store.
The inevitable drought that followed led to my discovery of the opportunities of mail order, where I finally stumbled into the Deep Red World of Chas Balun, from Huntington Beach, California.
In the early nineties, Chas became my drug. He purchased Japanese laserdiscs of the most gut-wrenching, ball-busting horror and action titles on the planet, most of which weren't available in the United States and therefore weren't protected by American copyright laws. This legal void allowed him to sell VHS dupes of said Japanese laserdiscs to starving horror junkies like myself.
This is where I discovered John Woo and Ringo Lam. This is where I was turned on to Lucio Fulci and Dario Argento, Joe D'Amato andBruno Mattei. This is where I developed my appetite for the most extreme, dare I say dangerous films on the planet. Nazisploitation films, Asian insect-chunkblowers, the Guinea Pig movies, women in prison films, the Pink films of Japan. Jorg Buttgereit? Check. Umberto Lenzi? Check. Ruggero Deodato? Motherfuckin' check.
And so unto me was bestowed the gift of the cannibal movie.
Thanks to Chas Balun. 1992.
Having always been a fan of Eli's films, when I initially heard word that he was tackling the cannibal genre, I must admit that as much as I geeked out at the potential prospect, I forced myself to remain cautiously optimistic.
How could such a film be effectively done in the modern age? How would the message of man versus nature translate from the 16mm, grainy documentary-ish styles of old through the process of digital filmmaking and still remain pure? Was it even possible to embark on such a bold mission where no filmmaker had dared to venture in more than thirty years?
The story is simple yet assured, and calls back to the tribulations of old. American do-gooders set out to make a statement, have their voices heard, and most importantly, to enact change. Little do they realize that the changes they set in motion will have very little to do with the high ideals upon which their lofty motivations were founded. But that's all part of the fun and contributes in no small part to the film feeling that much more satisfyingly complete by the time the final reel plays out.
In order to protect an indigenous tribe of jungle natives from the devastation of modernization via deforestation, a small group of American college students embark to South America to protest the demolition of the jungles and the uprooting of the native people by chaining themselves to the bulldozers being used to desolate the jungles. Armed with little more than their smartphones and their collective sheer force of will, the kids reach their destination and are able to - at least fleetingly - achieve their goal.
But upon their exodus from the jungle, their aircraft goes down in a glorious plane crash sequence that left this viewer with the impression that some members of the production crew may well have lost their lives in the process. (Aside: No one died during filming of this movie.)
And this brings us to both the conclusion of the first act and the beginning of the end, as the location where the survivors find themselves stranded is the titular Green Motherfuckin' Inferno, where few will survive and none will escape unscathed. And those that do, well, let's just say they'd probably prefer that they hadn't.
The survivors are immediately descended upon by a jungle tribe and in less time than you can say, "unfortunate turn of events", the indigenous people they risked their lives to save, subsequently take them captive, reveal themselves to be flesh-eating cannibals, and make it very clear that they are going to eat them.
One of the true coups of The Green Inferno is Eli's wise insistence upon shooting along the legendary Werner Herzog waters of South America and utilizing a local jungle tribe to play the multiple roles of the cannibals portrayed in the film. Not only are they frighteningly realistic, but not for one moment does the viewer feel an ounce of hope for their helpless captives, especially when the superior skills exhibited by KNB Makeup Effects prove once again why they are the best in the business. These hapless Americans seem to be consumed right in front of our eyes with enough cannibalistic gusto to turn Deodato, Lenzi, and D'Amato green with envy. The practical effects are many & great, and are executed to near perfection as each “victim” meets their own grisly fate one after the other. I was relieved (yet none surprised) that the gore was both brilliantly executed and was very much in abundance, as it should be in any respectable cannibal film. There’s more than enough viscera on display here to challenge an R-rating, yet the lack of a show-stopping genital mutilation scene left me feeling a bit conflicted. Eli alludes to said genital torture early in the film, but I can only conclude that the MPAA is to blame for the lack of a payoff in that regard. Novices to this particular subgenre of film and those who consider themselves less of a gorehound will probably be happy to have been spared.
Eli and his co-writer Aaron Burns have created some very enjoyable characters, most notably that of Jonah, AKA the "fat guy in love", who, despite his best efforts to charm and ultimately win over a beautiful broad, doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell. But Jonah’s failures don't make them any less enjoyable to watch. Also, the lead actress, played by Lorenza Izzo, does a terrific job of playing both the earnest and sympathetic sides of her character. She's not hard on the eyes, either.
Not all of the Americans onscreen are given the time to develop much of a character arc. Aside from the leads, many are simply along for the ride and are present to supply the audience with a gloriously grotesque death scene, because in a cannibal film, that is their purpose.
So how does this film fit into the cannibal film genre? Quite nicely actually, as it satisfies those who have purchased their tickets with certain expectations as to what it should be, while simultaneously introducing a whole new generation of horror fans to a series of films that they are long overdue to discover. No one can deny that horror films are cyclical. Vampires, zombies, haunted houses, stalk & slashers, demonic possessions, home-invasions, each give way to one another as the tastes of the audience change over time. Massive kudos goes to Eli & company for cleverly raising the bar once again and launching the next cycle of real-world horror.
The tremendous amount of effort that obviously went into the making of a film of this type and the painstaking detail that was taken to achieve such a realistic feel boggles the mind. There are but a small handful of current day filmmakers who could have pulled off The Green Inferno with any degree of success and Eli knocked it out of the park.
Without giving too much away, the final moments of the film harken back to the cannibal films of old, most notably Umberto Lenzi's Make Them Die Slowly, which brings the film full circle, wraps up the storyline quite poignantly, and paves the way for any future forays back into the green inferno. Such is a prospect that I find ridiculously exciting and anticipate without fear or trepidation.
Goodbye for now –
Tom Joad
