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Posts Tagged ‘Hellbound: Hellraiser II’

I’m not entirely sure of exactly when I first became aware of Clive Barker’s existence, but I’m quite certain that the first time I laid eyes on him was when he participated in a BBC documentary entitled The Studio That Dripped Blood, a tribute to Hammer Films. This was made in 1987, around the same time Barker was making Hellraiser. What has stuck in my memory were his musings on Hammer’s 70s travails and what could have mitigated them a bit – perhaps the launch of another successful series of films…?

I mention this because within a year or so of that interview, Barker was involved in his own horror franchise – well, I say ‘his own’, but part of the deal involved in getting Hellraiser made was that he sold all rights to the film and its characters: his participation in the sequels was basically as a consultant, and one gets the impression the producers of the later films gave him the minimum input necessary to ensure he was willing to have his name somewhere in the credits.

Nevertheless, is there an echo of the Hammer approach in some of the Hellraiser sequels? To their credit, Hammer tended to avoid straight retreads, looking instead to move the characters and concepts on and explore different situations. This is certainly also true of the first follow-up, Hellbound: Hellraiser II (directed by Tony Randel), released in 1988.

Central to the new story is Dr Channard (Kenneth Cranham), a brain surgeon who runs his own lunatic asylum (yes, I know, but we’ve barely touched the surface of this film). Channard is obsessed with the Cenobite-summoning puzzle boxes, one of which was crucial to the plot first time round, and so it is an astonishing coincidence that it is to his clinic that Kirsty Cotton (Ashley Lawrence) is brought following her traumatic encounter with the forces of darkness. She is in a bad state and so, it would seem, is geography itself, as her family home was in London in the first film, but is now apparently under the jurisdiction of trigger-happy NYPD cops (still only really on the surface, folks).

Channard listens to her story and persuades the cops to let him have the gory mattress on which Kirsty’s stepmother Julia (Clare Higgins, mostly) met her demise. By getting one of his patients to mutilate himself on the mattress and thus spill even more blood, he succeeds in resurrecting Julia, sans skin (it’s not Higgins under the rather-impressive flayed-alive make-up and prosthetics, but Deborah Joel). Julia and Channard strike a deal – if he will help her make herself a bit more presentable, then she will help him explore the realm within the puzzle box and introduce him to the dark power that reigns there…

Kirsty, meanwhile, has been getting nightmarish messages, apparently from her father, who is trapped in the hellish world of the box. Can she free him without falling foul of Julia and Channard? Not to mention Pinhead (Doug Bradley) and the other Cenobites, who are feeling a bit cheated after she escaped from them in the previous film. Perhaps Channard’s collection of box-related research can provide a useful clue as to the Cenobites’ origins and weaknesses…

I talk sometimes about the concept of the Good Bad Movie, by which I mean a movie with no great aspirations to be anything more than (often pulpy) entertainment, but one which is assembled with skill, imagination and energy. I’m not sure calling Hellbound a Good Bad Movie really does it justice in either respect: this is a tremendous, awful movie. The cognitive dissonance alone is almost enough to give you vertigo.

Perhaps I’m alone in this, but the Channard role is one which I can imagine Peter Cushing or Christopher Lee playing had the film been made fifteen years earlier. Kenneth Cranham is a very able actor with definite gravitas, and you can see him doing his best to try and lift the movie and give it a touch of class. The problem is that the script just doesn’t give him – or anyone else, for that matter – much to work with in terms of characterisation.

Or plot, come to that. One of the remarkable things about this film is that it is as watchable as it is, given the almost total incoherence of the story. The question of what country we’re in is of only marginal importance compared to the comprehensive lapses in logic, plotting and characterisation throughout the film. There’s no real sense of anyone having a character arc or a throughline – stuff just happens, seemingly at random. For example, Kirsty is supposedly trying to rescue her father from hell – until it turns out he’s not there (or at least, not in the one inside the box), at which point the issue of what happened to him is sort of forgotten (possibly Andrew Robinson didn’t want to come back or they didn’t want to pay his fee). Never mind fridge logic, even while you’re watching it you find yourself noting all the ways in which it simply doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

And yet in a strange way this isn’t the terminal problem it would be for a less extreme movie. Rather than a conventional narrative, the film is almost a stream-of-consciousness experience, giving something of the impression of a visceral, surreal nightmare. There is a series of events which do connect with each other, but it does seem like the visual impression left by the film was the over-riding concern. And in this they were very successful, for the relentless grotesqueness of it, and its extravagant goriness, mean this is one film which does have an impact on an aesthetic level if no other. Make no mistake: this is a grisly, graphically violent film from beginning to end, revelling in images and sequences which border on the obscene – but there is a real intentionality behind this. It’s not being done for effect – in a weird way it’s the whole point of the film. Whatever its shortcomings, it’s not lacking in vision or conviction.

Do I seem ambivalent about this film? If so, then it’s because I am. As a piece of storytelling it’s horribly dysfunctional, even moreso than the original film (which, as I’ve said, I don’t think is a particularly distinguished horror film). But it does have that extraordinary surreal ghastliness to it – the very primitiveness of much of the production actually contributes to this – which would almost inevitably be diminished in a story which made more sense. I’ve no idea if this was intentional or not, or just a piece of good fortune on the part of the production.

As I may have said before, I’m not a particular fan of the Hellraiser franchise – I don’t think any of the films are particularly good, but I can appreciate Doug Bradley’s screen presence at least. Conventional wisdom is that the first film is the best one, and by standard criteria it probably is. However, this was the one which made the strongest impression on me when I first saw it, simply because it is so strange and so extreme. I still don’t think that necessarily makes it a good film, but there is a lot about it I find commendable, even if I would struggle to actually recommend it. Few other films manage to be so successful creatively and yet at exactly the same moment really bad.

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