Michael Haneke: Glaciation, Legitimacy and Transgression

This chapter examines the extreme cinema of Michael Haneke. Whilst increasingly well covered in scholarly accounts of extreme art cinema, Haneke’s work is most often approached from an aesthetic and thematic point of view, wherein the text becomes the focal point. While these studies are key to understanding Haneke’s films, and the metaphorical significance he places on scenes of brutalism and sex, it has left certain areas underexplored. This chapter addresses this by undertaking detailed paratextual analysis of Haneke’s key extreme films. Firstly, the chapter focuses upon Funny Games, the most critically disliked Haneke film. Looking first at Tartan Video’s release before discussing Artificial Eye’s remediation, the chapter highlights the important role time can play in defining the commercial validity of extremity. Showing how the growing status of Haneke’s auteur brand challenged the use extreme iconography, the chapter alludes to the ways highbrow commercial symbols compete with lowbrow traits. Thereafter, the chapter undertakes an assessment of Artificial Eye’s ‘Michael Haneke Trilogy’. This example – due the centralisation of a dead pig on the cover – exposes the way paratexts can oppose critical and cultural canonisation.

Contemporary Extremity on DVD: Trends, Hard-core and Geographic Mobility

This chapter continues the selective history of extreme art cinema instigated in Chapter 3. Focusing predominantly on the releases of Artificial Eye and Tartan Video, the chapter details the re-emergence of extremity in France during the late 1990s and early 2000s, and looks at the paratextual treatment of Gaspar Noé, Catherine Breillat, and Claire Denis. Thereafter, the chapter expands its geographic lens, and examines extreme art production across Europe, with analysis of The Idiots, Man Bites Dog, Tesis, A Hole in my Heart and Dogtooth. The separation of New French Extremity from other forms of European extremity allows the French films’ impact to be appropriately measured. In essence, the chapter argues that the success of the New French Extremity changed paratextual representations of extremism, making them more popular, common and commercially viable. Thereafter, the chapter considers extreme horror narratives such as Martyrs, Frontier[s], and Switchblade Romance, outlining the way they influence and become influenced by paratextual images of extreme art cinema. By adopting this structure, the chapter again exposes the importance of both highbrow and lowbrow taste within the conceptualisation of extreme art cinema.

Weekend and Cannibal Holocaust: Art, Ballyhoo and Remediation

This chapter starts with an assessment of Jean-Luc Godard’s auteur status, before focusing on Weekend, a film frequently overlooked in discussions of extreme art cinema. By drawing attention to the film’s depiction of cannibalism, rape and real animal slaughter, the chapter highlights the similarities it shares with other extreme texts, repositioning it within the boarder extreme art film tradition outlined throughout the book. To find out whether this reputation impacts the commercial identity of the film, the chapter moves on to explore the paratextuality of the film. Ultimately concluding that the film’s distributors (Artificial Eye) offer a hybridised object that flirts with extremity, the chapter then examines Ruggero Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust. Noting similarities between the films, the chapter provides a detailed analysis of Shameless Screen Entertainment collectors’ edition DVD. Showing how the paratextual material re-constructs the film’s history, the analysis argues that Cannibal Holocaust’s remediation moves it away from an exploitation film ghetto by employing traditionally highbrow marketing techniques. By complicating existing ideas regarding the commercial function of extremity, the chapter illustrates the extent to which home entertainment objects obscure long-standing taste distinctions.

Introduction

This chapter outlines the approaches, definitions, and theories used throughout the book, before giving a structural overview of each chapter. Firstly, the chapter directly addresses the accusations of gimmickry that have been directed towards extreme art film, mapping the reception climate and evaluating the most popular and widespread responses. From this, it becomes clear that a lack of attention has been paid to the commercial identity of the film, and the way extremity informs its commercial persona. Thereafter, the chapter historicises extreme art cinema, positioning it as an outcome of taste slippage, and the blurring of boundaries between art cinema and exploitation cinema. By paying particular attention to representations of the body within both highbrow and lowbrow cinema, the chapter argues that convincing similarities exist between the cinematic traditions. Additionally, the chapter challenges the popular Francophile definition of extreme art cinema, broadening the geographic scope of the field by looking at films from Denmark, Sweden, Spain, Italy and Belgium. Finally, the chapter introduces paratextual theory, and details the way the preeminent ideas will be applied to the discussion of extreme art film paratexts.

Conclusion

The conclusion presents the key findings of the book. Noting the complexity of the paratexts considered throughout the work, the conclusion claims that extremity is not merely a gimmick, but part of a larger transfer of ideas that breach the traditional boundaries between highbrow and lowbrow culture. Further to this point, the chapter highlights the manner in which exploitation distributors are increasingly adopting highbrow marketing tactics over lowbrow ballyhoo. This challenges the longstanding opinion that extremity is a gimmick, as it calls into question the actual value of that material, even in a space where it has been historically deemed most effective. The chapter then looks beyond European cinema, examining the shift of extreme cinema into the mainstream consciousness, and the impact this has on extremity’s paratextuality. Finally, the conclusion considers the future of tangible home entertainment products within an increasingly digitalised world. Questioning whether DVD and Blu-ray is an outdated format, the chapter concludes that disc-based media will continue to stay relevant to certain demographics (such as fan communities) while noting the ways the paratextual methodology employed throughout the book can be adapted to study streaming platforms.

Salò, Or the 120 Days of Sodom and Ilsa, the Wicked Warden: Fascism, Pornography and Disgust

This chapter examines Salò, Or the 120 Days of Sodom and Ilsa, the Wicked Warden. Although both films use Fascist imagery to comment on the corrupting nature of power, they continue to enjoy very different cultural reputations. In order to explore this, the chapter firstly examines the BFI’s special edition Blu-ray release of Pasolini’s film, discussing the way the product employs exploitation tactics over the more established art film marketing directives expected from a highbrow company. Exploiting the film’s more transgressive attributes, the analysis shows how in-text extremity can be externally commercialised. Thereafter, the chapter investigates Ilsa, the Wicked Warden’s appearance within Anchor Bay’s ‘Jess Franco Collection’. Considering whether the auteur branding successfully redeems the lowbrow reputation of both film and filmmaker, the chapter highlights the ways lowbrow distributors use highbrow approaches to legitimise their texts. Ultimately, the chapter suggest that although the BFI trade off notions of disgust, the product presents Pasolini’s film as an artistically challenging experience rather than mere exploitation. In contrast, the chapter asserts that Anchor Bay’s attempt to legitimise Franco’s film is undone be the consistent centralisation of sexually explicit content.

Lars von Trier: Provocation, Condemnation and Confrontation

Lars von Trier role as a provocateur, although well established, is central to his paratextuality. Approaching his performances in the film festival space as additional paratexts, the chapter shows how the director adds a transgressive capital to his films through these external acts. The chapter then instigates a detailed paratextual study of Antichrist. The chapter illustrates how Chelsea Films, a sub-branch of the larger Curzon conglomerate, adopts a generic horror schema for its paratextual presentation of Antichrist. Discussing the ramifications of the company’s decision to position a pair of bloody scissors on the film’s cover, the chapter concludes that the use of a horror narrative image simplifies the text and nullifies its arthouse credentials. Thereafter, the chapter explores Artificial Eye’s remediation, suggesting that the company are unsuccessful in their attempt to redefine the film within the parameters of art cinema. Finishing with an exploration of the film’s involvement in the Film4 Extreme Season, the chapter highlights the differences between the commercial representation of extremity on DVD and Television, showing the latter to be more flexible.

Early Extremity on DVD: History, Precursors and Exploitation Auteurs

This chapter uses a historically and geographically mobile approach to map a range of films and filmmakers often absent from discussions of extreme cinema. The chapter starts with an exploration of the extreme works of directors like Luis Buñuel, Ingmar Bergman and Roman Polanski, stressing their importance to the creation of an extreme art aesthetic. The chapter focuses on the paratextuality of these filmmakers, and studies DVD and Blu-ray versions of their more extreme texts. Focusing closely on how exploitation marketing traditions co-exist with their art film counterparts on these objects, the chapter highlights the complexity of extremity’s commercial identity. The chapter takes the same approach to its study of European exploitation cinema. Using home entertainment paratexts to highlight influential films, the chapter investigates companies such as Arrow Video, Vipco, Anchor Bay, BFI and Redemption DVD, paying special attention to their handling of a range of directors, including Lucio Fulci, Dario Argento, and Jean Rollin. The chapter underscores the crucial role exploitation cinema had in shaping extreme art cinema and highlights the contradictory role extremity performs within the commercial sphere.

Art and Exploitation: Crossover, Slippage and Fluidity

Using Paul McDonald’s, Barbara Klinger’s, and Jonathan Gray’s work on the home entertainment industries, this chapter positions the DVD and Blu-ray as a fundamental paratextual form. Establishing it as a bearer of meaning capable of changing the commercial identity of the film, the chapter stresses the role these objects play in shaping the cultural persona of a film. The chapter then outlines the marketing practices that have historically defined art and exploitation cinema. The chapter highlights the consistency in which art film distributors have promoted the figure of the auteur and the country of origin on marketing materials, while foregrounding existing critical acclaim and any film festival success (such as awards, nominations or appearances). The chapter then explores exploitation marketing, charting the frequency with which distributors opt to use ballyhoo dares and promises in blurbs or taglines, the regularity with which they knowingly select images that disgust and provoke, how they will act quickly to milk cinematic trends, and effectively turn critical condemnation into hyperbole. Finally, the chapter places the book’s discussion of the home entertainment product alongside other studies of taste slippage, extending the histories established by the likes of Mark Betz, Joan Hawkins and Kevin Heffernan.