Hey, kids, remember
mixtapes? Of course, you do. And even if you didn’t, the insanely wild
popularity of the “Awesome Mix Vol. 1” from Guardians
of the Galaxy (okay, and the insanely wild popularity of the movie, too)
has certainly brought them back into the public eye with a vengeance. James
Gunn’s film also succinctly summed up what made mixtapes special and
appealing. They didn’t have to have a
theme. They could simply be a collection
of songs you like. Nevertheless, it was
the ones that were assembled with purpose that were the most special. We laugh today at some of the motifs (“Doug’s
Rockin Party Mix,” “Mellow Jams,” et cetera), but there was a soul-baring
forthrightness to them that held the majority of their charms (the others would
be the packaging and the format itself, but that’s a much longer conversation). For those who were awkward talking to people
(I’m of course thinking of other people, not me), the mixtape could express all
the things they couldn’t say, and set it to a catchy beat. They were like serenades for which you didn’t
have to pay live musicians. I can’t
honestly think of any longterm couple who came together because of a mixtape,
but it sure is a nice thought, don’t you think?
And almost anything would be a better gesture of someone’s affection
than what Malcolm Brand (Randall Cook)
gets up to in Tibor Takacs’ I, Madman (aka Sola in Quella Casa aka Hardcover).
Virginia (Jenny Wright) just loves herself some scary Horror novels, and she
becomes particularly entranced by the work of one Malcolm Brand after reading
his first book, Much of Madness, More of
Sin. Virginia’s hunky cop boyfriend
Richard (Clayton Rohner), however,
doesn’t like how her reading habits affect her, especially since they usually
lead to his receiving a booty call in
the middle of the night (what the hell is wrong with this cat?). After a fruitless search, Brand’s second book
(the eponymous one) mysteriously shows up at Virginia’s front door, and the
people around her start dropping like flies in line with the tome’s plot.
Dark Love is a subject running heavy
through I, Madman, and it’s a theme
that’s been around seemingly forever (if not, actually forever). Brand craves the love of Anna (in the book)
and Virginia (in the “real world”), but her rejection of him causes what must
have been an unstable psyche to begin with to plunge off the proverbial cliff
into full-blown psychopathy. And so the
stalking begins. Brand collects the
physical features he thinks Anna/Virginia is attracted to from his victims and
attaches them to his own face. That
these individual pieces, when added onto his face, only serve to make Brand
more grotesque completely escapes him.
But it is the act of transformation which he believes will attract his
unrequited love to him. That this
transformation is only on a physical level further reinforces Brand’s
misunderstanding of the situation (and it’s worth noting that not all of the
features he purloins are from males).
After all, one can own a Porsche and still be a total douchebag (as we
have learned from so many Teen Romantic Comedies).
But it takes two to tango, and
Virginia has moments of transformation as well.
In the real world, Virginia wears glasses much of the time (something
she makes sure to remove when Richard comes to visit). She also has a tendency to hunch her
shoulders, a picture of timidity. She
likes Richard, maybe even loves him, but as she tells co-worker Mona (Stephanie Hodge), she doesn’t want to
commit to him. By that same token, she
is not the virginal prude the audience expects in a character who is primarily
defined as a bookworm. She reads some of
Brand’s work to Richard as she peels off his clothes, but it’s not indicative
of her desire for “bad boy” loving in her life with Richard acting as a
stand-in. Virginia does what she wants
to with her body. That she gives it
freely to Richard (the safe, status-quo-upholding, protective, handsome figure)
while rejecting Brand (the dangerous, deviant, threatening, hideous figure)
puts the lie to the notion that she wants anything other than an unadventurous
life, particularly since she rejects Brand immediately outside of the written
page. As words in a book, he’s enthralling. As a flesh and blood suitor, he’s the pits.
Art not only imitates life in
this film; it is life. It’s hinted that
Brand was into Alchemy and all sorts of Dark Arts. Outside of the Jackal Boy (a great, Randall Cook [yes, the same one] stop
motion creation), there’s very little in-depth probing of this angle. The film’s metatextual facet is a major
appeal for me, and through this Super Science device, there is some narrative
explanation for the return of Brand.
Virginia enters into the stories in the form of Anna, and the physical
world around her changes accordingly. Clearly,
this points to I, Madman’s roots as a
take on the Nightmare on Elm Street
franchise. And yet, as a visualization
of how we invest in words and imagine them transporting us, it’s
marvelous. But there is also some
hinting that Virginia is the specific focal point for Brand’s
resurrection. After all, she couldn’t
have been the only person who ever read Brand’s books, no matter how miniscule
the print runs from publisher Sidney Zeit (Murray
Rubin) were. In fact, Richard reads
the book with no adverse effects whatsoever.
It only makes sense, then, that Virginia’s emotional involvement is the
key needed to unlock the door to the afterlife for her lovelorn lunatic.
With that in mind, everything
that happens in the film could also be seen as a figment of Virginia’s
deteriorating psyche. She could just as easily
be the “madman” of the title as Brand.
This sort of story has this concept built in, because anyone who
Virginia tells about her ideas is going to be disingenuous. Naturally, none of the cops, including
Richard, believe her. One of her first
sightings of Brand is for a split second in a book store mirror. How does she know it’s him? How does she know what he looks like? How do we know she didn’t actually just catch
sight of herself in the reflection (camera angle aside; We’re talking about
Virginia’s psychology here)?When she interacts with Brand directly, the scenes
are shot in a stylized, dreamlike fashion (again harking back to Nightmare). There is copious fog, bright backlighting,
wide angle lens usage, billowing curtains, Dutch angles, and so on. Since Virginia’s reading of Brand’s words seemingly
incite the mayhem in the story, she bears some form of complicity in the
murders and mutilations. Takacs and company want the viewer to
doubt (if only slightly) whether what’s occurring onscreen is real or
imaginary. There is more than enough information
here to read the film as a straight up Supernatural Slasher movie (and this is
most likely the preferred reading). But
there is evidence to allow interpretation as a Psychological Thriller, as well. The main problem with either is that the film
doesn’t set up clearly defined rules to follow in these regards. The rules of this cinematic world are
capricious at best. It makes the overall
viewing experience something of a hodgepodge and not as satisfying as I wish it
was. Also, and perhaps worse, Brand is
underdeveloped as anything other than a standard boogeyman. Outside of his narrative motivation and what
we’re told about him, he does not distinguish himself in any significant way
from the pack of Slashers. I still have
a major soft spot in my heart for I,
Madman. I always will. Just not enough to record a mixtape for it.
MVT: I love the ideas in the
film. They’re right up my alley in so
many ways. If only the filmmakers had
taken the time to hammer out their story’s bumps and give us more
three-dimensional characters.
Make or Break: The opening
scene is atmospheric visually and has a distinct, heightened, pulpy flavor that
sets the tone for the film’s ambitions.
Score: 6.5/10
