Working on the premise that what we don't see but imagine is infinitely
more frightening than what we do, Georges Franju gave us "Les Yeux Sans Visage", (aka "Eyes Without a Face"), his masterpiece of the horror genre, in
1958. It's about a mad, bad and very dangerous to know surgeon, (Pierre
Brasseur) who, with the help of his assistant Alida Valli, kills young
women and attempts to graft their faces onto his daughter who has been
disfigured in an accident. Franju never shows us the
daughter's disfigurement or the aftermath of the (mostly botched)
surgery, leaving it up to the viewer to think the worst. The result is
genuinely chilling and a lot more unsettling than the slasher movies of
today. This has been described as the most 'poetical' of horror movies
and there's certainly a grotesque beauty in Eugene Shuftan's gorgeous
black-and-white cinematography. Not many people who have seen this film
will easily forget the image of Edith Scob as the daughter almost
floating through the vast house, her disfigured face hidden in a mask or
Valli driving through the night on her murderous missions to the strain
of Maurice Jarre's superb score. Almodovar paid his own tribute to it
with "The Skin I Live In".
Monday 4 February 2019
EYES WITHOUT A FACE
Working on the premise that what we don't see but imagine is infinitely
more frightening than what we do, Georges Franju gave us "Les Yeux Sans Visage", (aka "Eyes Without a Face"), his masterpiece of the horror genre, in
1958. It's about a mad, bad and very dangerous to know surgeon, (Pierre
Brasseur) who, with the help of his assistant Alida Valli, kills young
women and attempts to graft their faces onto his daughter who has been
disfigured in an accident. Franju never shows us the
daughter's disfigurement or the aftermath of the (mostly botched)
surgery, leaving it up to the viewer to think the worst. The result is
genuinely chilling and a lot more unsettling than the slasher movies of
today. This has been described as the most 'poetical' of horror movies
and there's certainly a grotesque beauty in Eugene Shuftan's gorgeous
black-and-white cinematography. Not many people who have seen this film
will easily forget the image of Edith Scob as the daughter almost
floating through the vast house, her disfigured face hidden in a mask or
Valli driving through the night on her murderous missions to the strain
of Maurice Jarre's superb score. Almodovar paid his own tribute to it
with "The Skin I Live In".
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