Young Theresa (Cristina Galbo) is carted off to
Mademoiselle Fourneau’s (Lilli Palmer)
private school for wayward girls (even though she seems like the most normal
person in the place), where hard discipline is the order of the day. There, Theresa has to contend with the likes
of the cruel, manipulative Irene (Mary
Maude) as well as learning the politics of the academy. All this and a mysterious killer who
intermittently takes out the occasional girl for diabolical reasons which will
soon be made clear in a manner most ghastly.
Narciso Ibañez Serrador’s La
Residencia (aka The House That
Screamed, the version I watched for this review via Elvira’s Movie Macabre
release, so I’m fairly confident that the film was heavily edited, but it still
packs a hell of a punch) is a film which is simultaneously semi-classy
melodrama and sleazy exploitation/psychothriller. The cinematography is gorgeous, and the
camera moves fluidly throughout scenes, following characters and accentuating the
gothic, harsh confines of the school’s estate.
The editing is smooth as silk and on point (maybe just a little too
on-the-nose with its metaphoric usage but not distractingly or offputtingly so,
in fact quite the opposite). It’s odd
(but somehow fitting for how the film’s scenes form a cumulative effect rather
than a singular narrative; it might have been interesting to see this film as
directed by the late, great Robert
Altman) in how characters who we expect to have some long term significance
in the film don’t, and things happen offscreen (but again this could be from
the version of the film I saw) only to be referenced later on as if we were
given this information (a common enough occurrence in European genre fare).
There is a heavy focus on the
interactions between the characters rather than on the murders, and I believe
this is because the killings are a symptom of the twisted environment of the
school’s interior community. On its
exterior, the school is portrayed as a very proper, very orderly place for
“troubled girls” to be molded (by force) to fit back into society. Naturally, the dark underbelly lying beneath
this façade of civilization is more akin to a prison than a school. Fourneau posits that the activities in which the
girls partake (like dance and needlework) “prevent them from indulging in
morbid thought” (i.e. sex), but the inner world of the academy revolves around
sex and perhaps even moreso around control.
The two go hand-in-hand. Fourneau
sends an obstinate girl to “the Seclusion Room” where she will later be
stripped and whipped. Fourneau’s
teenaged son Luis (John Moulder-Brown)
spies on the girls at every possible opportunity, but his mother tells him that
“none of these girls are any good,” and he needs to be with a woman like
her. She is over-protective to the point
of smothering, and her domination combined with the libidinous temptations of
all the young female flesh flitting about is toxic. Irene is a predatory lesbian who blackmails and
inveigles girls into doing her bidding (“all you have to do is obey me”) and orchestrates
the release of the girls’ pent up sexual energy with regularly scheduled trips
to the shed with Henry (Clovis Dave),
the strapping wood delivery (in more ways than one) guy. She abuses the authority granted her by
Fourneau in the same way that Fourneau abuses the authority granted her by the
people who placed her in charge of their daughters. As in a prison, these abuses are common
knowledge to the “inmates” yet are not spoken of in public.
While La Residencia is a Women in Prison film in spirit, it is also about
the curiosity of young people, both sexually and in regards to life in
general. The most obvious example of
this is Luis’ antics around the school.
He wants to see the girls shower so badly, that he puts his life at risk
to get an eyeful. He plays boyfriend to
some of the young ladies, but it’s with the seeming naiveté of a boy in the
throes of puppy love. This can be seen
as a result of how his sexuality is repressed and twisted by his mother (he
knows nothing about the physical act of sex, but he desires the bodies of the
girls) as well as being an act of defiance (just covertly). Another prominently defiant character is
Catherine (Pauline Challoner) who
openly flouts Fourneau’s authority, even though she knows the punishment that
will be visited upon her. Catherine’s
actions are those of a self-discovery of her independence, no matter the
cost. And yet, this is not truly viewed
as a positive in this cinematic world, more like the nail that sticks up
getting hammered down. Upon her arrival
at the school, Theresa notices the signs of Luis following her (a knocked over
plant, doors that are left ajar, and so on), and she approaches these with the
natural inquisitiveness of a young person investigating the world with both
wonder and trepidation (in the same way that she begins to investigate her
sexuality). Nevertheless, the
discoveries that Theresa makes about sexuality in general are not ones that
could be considered healthy. Instead,
she is shown only about how sex is used as a weapon, a tool, and about how the
gaze of people falls on her and other young women without their consent or
desire. Inquisitiveness is not rewarded
in this film; it is punished, with murder being arguably the worst of the
sanctions.
I think there are parallels to be
drawn between this film and Serrador’s
other feature length theatrical film, Who
Can Kill a Child?, and the predominant of these lies in the mentality of
children/young people that have been twisted and perverted by the actions of
the adults around them. These kids learn
from the poor examples they have witnessed, but more than that, they take the
lessons learned and go several steps further, turning things around on the
adults in an augmented, disproportionately appropriate fashion. In this sense, both of these movies are in
the vein of “as you sow, so shall you reap” morality tales. Even with our sympathies lying with the kids,
however, their actions are still terrifying.
After all, these are monsters that we, that adults, created. And they are worse than us.
MVT: The creeping, skanky,
gothic atmosphere of the film maintains interest, even during the more
talkative sections, and it aids greatly in delivering some powerful moments throughout.
Make or Break: The first
onscreen murder is expertly handled in every way from the moment the killer’s black
figure pops up into frame, the use of dissolves, and the lyrical piano score to
the fantastic final sonic effect of a record (like a life) winding down.
Score: 7/10
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