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Dir. Nikos Nikolaidis
Searching for a mysterious woman,
Laurua, who he has become obsessed with, a detective (Panos Thanassoulis) finds himself outside a mansion with a bullet
in his shoulder, soaked by the torrential rain, and in an almost comatose stupor.
The owners of the house, a mother (Michele
Valley) and a daughter (Meredyth
Herold), find him but its established in their introduction that they are
sociopathic, burying the chauffeur they murdered around the same time. Together
they lead themselves to a web of depravity where the three engage themselves in
bondage, erotic vomiting, other fluids, and violence as the state of the detective
is that of a living corpse. Singapore
Sling is a notorious film, the only film by Nikos Nikolaidis that has managed to be exported outside of his
home country of Greece, the film noir perverted and amplified into a disturbing
yet erotic series of taboos being broken. It's the kind of one-off that exists
to remain in the skull and wonder why films of its kind rarely exist as,
despite for obvious reasons, such films would knock complacent viewers off
their seats. It's one that justifiably horrifies and shocks people with where
it goes, making some never able to view some things the same way again, but
yet is created with an incredible sense of visual beauty and sensuality. It's a
very confrontational film which yet could be argued to be as much of a really
scabrous black comedy too. Think Luis
Buñuel but with more openly explicit content, the "horrible"
things viewed yet filmed in succulent, incredible black-and-white photography.
The American noir hero and femme fatale - with the film running with an obvious
reference point completely - are turned on their head with an almost somnambulist,
mentally stunted detective who speaks Greek in inner monologues, and two women,
a bilingual mother who yet has a cock, and a daughter (played excellently by Herold) who is a continually orgasming,
ball of weird energy, who speak English and try to pry out of him why he is
trying to find Laura, who may have been one of their victims..avi40.jpg)
The sense of horror - repulsion -
is yet counteracted by the clear intention of making the material titillating
in the right angle. No matter how disturbed most viewers will be by it, Singapore Sling does play off a tone
with its power relationships that reminds me of S&M erotica; violent
fantasies could be completely harmless and even healthy, the fantastical
perversities allowed to be poured out, and the situation in this three person
film, where the daughter "becomes" Laura at some point, is clearly
aiming to delete and remove any moral superiority most films would have against
the most perverse aspects of what is shown and seen. It's a film that dares not
to have a clear cut morality to it as horror and shock cinema tends to actually
have in their centres. If you could tie it to the horror genre, up to debate,
its closer to the mirror side of the genre, along with exploitation cinema,
where good taste and good morality is dissected and broken to pieces with the
faraway possibility of perversion being cathartic. Even if Singapore Sling reaches an alternative conclusion to this on the
surface, perversion still wins. Bear in mind that Singapore Sling qualifies as an art film, the term at its best
suggesting something that dares to suggest bold ideas and shake the viewer out
of their safety bubble, but means that you have to be patient and follow the
film's route instead of instantly demanding satisfaction. At a languid two
hours approximately, the film repeats its dialogue and scenes a few times, and
significantly has the women continually breaking the fourth wall, talking about
events, alongside the detective's narration, to us the viewer to the point
subjective reality is up to debate. It will never explain the shocking aspects
of urine and vomit, that scene with
the kiwi fruit or all the regurgitation of food that evokes the infamous Otto Mühl sequence in Sweet Movie (1974), or why the hell a
mummy is there representing the deceased husband-father.
Singapore Sling is a difficult film, but its managed miraculously,
thanks partially to the American company Synapse
Films, to build a reputation of its own; through a podcast called Mondo Movie, I was drawn to its
existence when I was much younger and wetter behind the ears in this interest
of mine. Even Dogtooth (2009), the
other infamous Greek film that did one better and got an Oscar nomination, is
conventional next to this with its unglamorous look and obvious use of taboos
for a moral message of society, while this film look dreamlike and the content
is not interested in obvious ideas on human interaction. It takes the darkened
squalor of film noir visuals, back when celluloid film was commonplace, and
mashes it through the philosophy of complete immorality as a freedom that feels
more of 19th century literature than 20th century cinema. Befitting the decade
it just got its foot through the door for, this was a perfect gateway for post
modern films of the nineties, building upon the materials of the past directly
to seek new ideas. But thankfully I can also say it's just a brave too. Very,
very brave.
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