CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: PETER STRICKLAND / STARRING: GWENDOLINE CHRISTIE, SIDSE BABETT KNUDSEN, MARIANNE JEAN-BAPTISTE / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW
Peter Strickland has made a name for himself crafting genre-tinged Euro oddities. His latest film, In Fabric, toys with Italian Giallo, British supernatural, and Euro Gothic in general. Only his fourth feature, Strickland shows no signs of deviating from a staunchly unique, sensual, style of filmmaking.
Sheila (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) is a recently divorced mother of one, working at a bank. It’s sale season and, after finding herself in a local high-fashion boutique, she purchases a stunning red dress from the mysterious vendor (Fatma Mohamed – The Duke of Burgundy). A dress with a dark past which seems to attract dangerous activity.
As with The Duke of Burgundy and Berberian Sound Studio, Strickland is creating genre films not made to satisfy typical horror audiences. The latter was an ode to Giallo films and psychological thrillers, while the former nodded to the more niche (yes there are things more niche than Giallo) sub-genre of Euro Erotica. In Fabric fuses capitalist critique with ghosts and witches for an intense but well-humoured tale of terror.
Strickland writes films which are momentarily intense but also potentially light, even funny. There’s a thin seam between the humorous and the intense, which In Fabric juggles with finesse. Insinuation is Strickland’s smoking gun, one he uses often to let the audience bathe in their own bewilderment and sometime-horror. You could almost call it Lynchian.
At the same time, Gwendoline Christie’s appearance as Sheila’s son’s girlfriend is a masterclass in camp villainy. The Mighty Boosh’s Julian Barratt also appears as a well-meaning, if enraging, bank manager, enforcing a litany of bizarre rules and regulations. The audacious oddity of The Boutique’s staff is as enrapturing as it is downright silly. Black-clad, cult-like retail workers await throngs of shoppers and talk in an overwrought vernacular from a time long passed. To them, clothes and the retail experience are near-religious experiences. The film’s second half arguably loses drive by introducing new, less likeable characters and a stronger element of comedy.
There’s a pungent reek of witchcraft about the film, but Strickland has no interest in giving us solid answers. He’s more interested in exploring the bizarre network of pressures and lures which give clothes their power. The desire to be loved, to feel and look good, and to transcend the mortal coil; all of which can be achieved through the perfect look. Not to mention the assortment of visual and narrative goodies he can conjure from this odd little world. Mannequins with pubic hair gush blood from real-looking vaginas, and Fatma Mohamed’s mysterious shop-worker retreats to a dumb-waiter after every shift. Sex and fabric lurk closer than sex and death.
In Fabric is a film with a perfect look, surely a trait of Strickland’s by now. Indie synth band Cavern of Anti-Matter prove adept at crafting Frizzi/Morricone-style Giallo tracks, and hypnotic 70’s TV jingles to boot. Ari Wegner’s cinematography is similarly accomplished in resurrecting a Bava-inspired lurid beauty in a very British way. Think Blood and Black Lace for the 70’s London High Street. In Fabric is nothing if not an exquisitely framed and painted trip.
A killer dress and the Cult of Capitalism, Peter Strickland’s latest arthouse psychological Euro-venture is as gorgeous as any of his films, but arguably his oddest trip to date. Horror fans could be disappointed by the film’s dedication to oddity over scares, but the sincerity and sheer cinematic magic are as alluring as the fine red dress at its core. From its low-key domestic beginnings right up to the pandemonium of its fashion-frenzied finale, In Fabric an arresting experience.
