A Chronicle of Corpses

The decline and fall of the Elliott family (of Virginia?) is rendered completely uninteresting in this pretentious distortion of colonial era norms. McElhinney's bygone art film style evidences contempt for his audience -- those who don't admire wooden performances, high-school costume drama dialogue and dorm room allusions to cultural relativism, are simply not hip.

And yet, many technically well executed scenes do impress, considering the project's micro-budget, and McElhinney does not lose sight of his narrative objective. If you are interested in taking a look, try to focus on "whodunit?"

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A declining aristocratic family, rife with secrets and sexual intrigue, finds itself being systematically murdered in this utterly pretentious piece of garbage. This film asks many questions like "Who is murdering these people?" and "Why are they being murdered?" but the only question I found myself asking was "How could a New York Times film critic could buy into this tripe?" The title got me interested, but the quote on the box from a New York Times critic made me take a look. After seeing the film all I can say is "Cancel My Subscription!" How a critic from a major publication could take this film seriously is beyond me. The photography has an interesting early- 70's European feel, but that's the only compliment I can muster. While the film makes it plainly obvious that writer/director Andrew Repasky McElhinney has seen a lot of foreign films, it isn't so obvious that he understood them. McElhinney's style is as forced and unnatural as it is laughable. He tends to set his actors in static poses and forces them to disclaim the stilted dialogue the flattest possible manner. This film could be featured in the old Saturday Night Live "Bad Cinema" skit. I can't say for sure whether the acting is bad. The overall effect of the acting is bad, but I believe the actors probably delivered exactly what Mr. McElhinney wanted. I know the list of films I have reviewed here on this website must make me look like the worst kind of cinematic philistine, but, trust me, I went to Film School. I appreciate a good art film. This isn't one. I thought I would be able to say this is the worst, most pretentious piece of crap I have ever seen, but then I saw McElhinney's first film: Magdalen. Geez.

WARNING TO HORROR FANS. Don't be fooled by the title. This is not a horror movie. It is horrible, but it is not a horror movie.

(Some Spoilers) Long, even though it's under 90 minutes, and torturous film about a deadly curse that was cast on the Eillot family. For the evil deeds committed by the Matriach of that family Grandmother Eillot, Marj Dusay,in the distant past.

The movie Begins with two persons connected to the Eillot's being murdered. A bagger, David Scott, who hangs out on the Eillot estate and the daughter of the Eillot's gardener Anne Swales, Amanda Scheiner. As the film preceded one by one the Eillot family members are murdered by someone, or something, with a grudge against them until there's no one left, of the Eillot's, to continue the family bloodline.

Were given the lurid background of the Eillot family with stories told to us, as well as actual scenes, in the movie like infidelity murder and madness. The movie introduces us to the Eillot's as their having communion at the church at their estate conducted by father Jerome, Jerry Perna. Father Jerome at first seemed to be the only normal person in the film but even that turned out to be just an illusion. An illusion in the minds of those of us watching and trying to make some sense out of "A Chronicle of Corpses".

The movie has a number of long and drawn out sequences, that last as long as five minutes, that only seemed to be nothing more then extra padding to make the film longer and thus somehow impressive to those of us watching it. The actors in the film read their lines with monotone deliveries and blank stares as if they were on sedatives or suffering from lack of sleep. It's as if they were in the process of being brainwashed by some weird religious cult. There were also a number of scenes of people in the film giving long boring and meaningless speeches about world and local conditions, this in early 19th century America, about slavery religion war integration and the environment that had nothing at all to do with what was going on in the movie that almost ended up putting you,if you were still awake by then, to sleep.

We finally get the truth of what's happening to the Eillot's, and why, from non other then Gradma Eillot herself. This coming from what looked like the comatose Grandma who up until then never said a single word in the film. With that, by letting the cat out of the bag, about her past indiscretions that lead to the deaths and carnage that's happening Grandma Eillot now sits back and relaxes by taking poison and doing herself in.

Mind-numbing and boring movie that you just can't wait for it to finally end. Since everyone in it seems to be in some semi-conscious state of mind and that you, by watching the film, feel that you'll end up just as comatose and brain-dead as those actors and actresses in the movie.

People who hate this seem to be disappointed that it fails as a graphic horror film, despite its serial-slaying storyline. People who like it take it for what it is: An art film in the most slow, minimalist, rigorously formal, non-naturalistic mode, closer to "Last Year at Marienbad," "Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant," et al. than any regular genre flick. I'm not saying films of this nature, which apply a very abstract technique to narrative cinema, can't be dull as dishwater or inexcusably pretentious when they fail. But for me, "Corpses" really does cast a hypnotic spell, its disconnections from period accuracy and melodramatic norm enigmatic rather than just arbitrary and annoying. Though I can understand why some folk would think it has exactly those last qualities. This movie is like an Andy Milligan bloodbath directed by Terence Davies--which is a wonderful combination by my taste, but naturally would be off-putting or simply incomprehensible to others. Regardless: Amidst several very stiff (yet nonetheless effective) amateur performances, soap opera veteran Marj Dusay is amazing in her long, stock-still late monologue about the family's sinful past. I can't believe this was made by a 22-year-old director; it's got the astringency of 70-year-old Dreyer or Bresson. Not to say it's an achievement equal with theirs--but I am very fond of it.

The kid who made this movie shows films at the public library every week. It's as if he's been spending the last ten years showing his favorite films so we'd understand his. A Chronicle of Corpses is unlike anything else, it is spectactually gorgeous and deeply haunting while the mystery and ambiguity is terminal and exactly the point. More like music than cinema.