As much as I personally love the Horror genre, I don’t pretend – and never will – to understand what makes it work for fandom.
In some cases, I think it’s clear that audiences will get caught up in the frenzy of a particular trend. For example, the Saw films of the mid-2000’s up until the present really kinda/sorta kicked off a new fascination with what is arguably called ‘torture porn;’ a great many imitators were born out of the success of that franchise, and to some degree such projects continue to rack up ticket sales even today. While there’s always been a market for slasher flicks, they, too, tend to rise-and-fall based on the success of a new player at the table who ignites the imaginations of those who vicariously like the run for their own lives via the characters they relate to. And, of course, Horror – unlike any other genre – has its own track record for crafting supernatural predators who can transcend reality for the sole purpose of continuing their respective reigns of terror across successive film entries. From Freddy Krueger to Ghost Face and even Annabelle, watchers love to hate the villains, so God bless (or is that Satan?) those inspired creators for giving us so much to fear.
Still, I haven’t spent a great deal of time exploring the Horror properties from other countries. To some degree, I’ve found that – like Comedy – true Horror doesn’t always translate all that well. Some of the cultural references don’t resonate the same way with me – a lowly American – as they do with Hispanics, Asians, or the Japanese. This isn’t to say that I’ve ignored their outputs completely; while I’ve seen a few, I tend to only see strengths in performances as opposed to their respective concepts. In fact, it’s rare that I discover something so unique that I embrace it from the earliest scenes, so you’ll have to pardon me if I admit to hanging close to what I know best.
However, I rarely pass up the chance when I can get a legitimate ‘deep dive’ into a franchise when available; and that’s what Arrow Films has offered up with their “Inside The Mind Of Coffin Joe” Blu-ray Collection. I’d somewhat sparingly heard the name of Zé do Caixão – aka Coffin Joe – the creation of Brazilian filmmaker José Mojica Marins. I believe I’d read somewhere that someone ‘in the know’ credited him with practically inventing an all-new brand of terror for his great nation, but – alas – the films themselves had escaped me. That’s no longer the case now as I’ve been provided manufacturer’s copies of an incredible ten theatrical cuts – along with a bevy of extras – and I’m set to begin this wild and wacky journey into what’s been said to be a bit bleak, a bit black, but deliciously original.
First up: 1964’s At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (aka À Meia Noite Levarei Sua Alma) … Coffin Joe’s celebrated film debut.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
In some cases, I think it’s clear that audiences will get caught up in the frenzy of a particular trend. For example, the Saw films of the mid-2000’s up until the present really kinda/sorta kicked off a new fascination with what is arguably called ‘torture porn;’ a great many imitators were born out of the success of that franchise, and to some degree such projects continue to rack up ticket sales even today. While there’s always been a market for slasher flicks, they, too, tend to rise-and-fall based on the success of a new player at the table who ignites the imaginations of those who vicariously like the run for their own lives via the characters they relate to. And, of course, Horror – unlike any other genre – has its own track record for crafting supernatural predators who can transcend reality for the sole purpose of continuing their respective reigns of terror across successive film entries. From Freddy Krueger to Ghost Face and even Annabelle, watchers love to hate the villains, so God bless (or is that Satan?) those inspired creators for giving us so much to fear.
Still, I haven’t spent a great deal of time exploring the Horror properties from other countries. To some degree, I’ve found that – like Comedy – true Horror doesn’t always translate all that well. Some of the cultural references don’t resonate the same way with me – a lowly American – as they do with Hispanics, Asians, or the Japanese. This isn’t to say that I’ve ignored their outputs completely; while I’ve seen a few, I tend to only see strengths in performances as opposed to their respective concepts. In fact, it’s rare that I discover something so unique that I embrace it from the earliest scenes, so you’ll have to pardon me if I admit to hanging close to what I know best.
However, I rarely pass up the chance when I can get a legitimate ‘deep dive’ into a franchise when available; and that’s what Arrow Films has offered up with their “Inside The Mind Of Coffin Joe” Blu-ray Collection. I’d somewhat sparingly heard the name of Zé do Caixão – aka Coffin Joe – the creation of Brazilian filmmaker José Mojica Marins. I believe I’d read somewhere that someone ‘in the know’ credited him with practically inventing an all-new brand of terror for his great nation, but – alas – the films themselves had escaped me. That’s no longer the case now as I’ve been provided manufacturer’s copies of an incredible ten theatrical cuts – along with a bevy of extras – and I’m set to begin this wild and wacky journey into what’s been said to be a bit bleak, a bit black, but deliciously original.
First up: 1964’s At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (aka À Meia Noite Levarei Sua Alma) … Coffin Joe’s celebrated film debut.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Driven by the overwhelming desire to have a son to continue his bloodline, blasphemous Zé do Caixão, the wicked undertaker of a tight-knit, God-fearing Brazilian village, sets his mind on finding the perfect woman to bear his child. And having grown tired of his infertile wife Lenita, the despicable mortician sets his sights on impregnating his best friend Antonio's girlfriend Terezinha, and no one can stand in his way. But as innocents die left and right, judgement comes upon Zé on the Day of the Dead in the shape of a local fortune-teller, and nothing can stop revenge--not even the cold, dark grave.”
No matter how hard an interpreter tries … no matter how good his skills are … there are some things that inevitably get lost in translation.
Whether you know this or not, languages are incredibly complex structures for communication; and – try though they might – interpreters sometimes have immense layers they must wade through in order to capture what was said into what was intended. Context can be lost, and even different words – while related – can possess multiple meanings. At the end of the process, I have to wonder whether or not part of a translator’s job includes hoping he got it right or, at least, close enough as to preserve whatever sentiment was originally expressed. If not, there might be Hell to pay.
Art – especially the art of moving pictures – has the same thematic challenges. One culture alone has a vast amount of history that might be aligning behind whatever messages its artists produce; watchers on the receiving end might throw up their hands in frustration when the stream of images and the interactions of the characters aren’t quite in sync with what their expectations were. Communication is always a risky proposition, and that’s even more the case when attempted to bridge the cultural divide.
Thankfully, there are still similarities between what moves each of us as human beings. Things like the death of a loved one or the humiliation of watching a man accidentally falling down a set of stairs generally evokes responses we can mutually appreciate. The celebration of a triumph. The despair of a defeat. The thrill of a chase. And … the loathing of a screen villain. These are sights that typically transcend some of our intellectual baggage – mainly because they align with very base feelings – so we universally accept them when we see them for what they are.
When it comes to screen villains, Coffin Joe (as played by director, writer, and star Marins) is about as elementary as they come. While his motivations might be a bit nebulous here and there (he seems hyper obsessed with perpetuating his bloodline for reasons that might lean more cultural than anything else), he’s still a bully. He’s still a braggard. He’ll torment those he happens across, and he’ll stop at nothing to remind them how insignificant they are to him. He still struts around his one-horse-town acting and dressing and speaking like everyone is beneath him; and – even worse – he’s willing to dispense with all pleasantries to see that whatever object he craves becomes his own. That doesn’t mean he’ll keep it, mind you … but he’ll keep it until something better comes along if for no reason other than he can.
“Driven by the overwhelming desire to have a son to continue his bloodline, blasphemous Zé do Caixão, the wicked undertaker of a tight-knit, God-fearing Brazilian village, sets his mind on finding the perfect woman to bear his child. And having grown tired of his infertile wife Lenita, the despicable mortician sets his sights on impregnating his best friend Antonio's girlfriend Terezinha, and no one can stand in his way. But as innocents die left and right, judgement comes upon Zé on the Day of the Dead in the shape of a local fortune-teller, and nothing can stop revenge--not even the cold, dark grave.”
No matter how hard an interpreter tries … no matter how good his skills are … there are some things that inevitably get lost in translation.
Whether you know this or not, languages are incredibly complex structures for communication; and – try though they might – interpreters sometimes have immense layers they must wade through in order to capture what was said into what was intended. Context can be lost, and even different words – while related – can possess multiple meanings. At the end of the process, I have to wonder whether or not part of a translator’s job includes hoping he got it right or, at least, close enough as to preserve whatever sentiment was originally expressed. If not, there might be Hell to pay.
Art – especially the art of moving pictures – has the same thematic challenges. One culture alone has a vast amount of history that might be aligning behind whatever messages its artists produce; watchers on the receiving end might throw up their hands in frustration when the stream of images and the interactions of the characters aren’t quite in sync with what their expectations were. Communication is always a risky proposition, and that’s even more the case when attempted to bridge the cultural divide.
Thankfully, there are still similarities between what moves each of us as human beings. Things like the death of a loved one or the humiliation of watching a man accidentally falling down a set of stairs generally evokes responses we can mutually appreciate. The celebration of a triumph. The despair of a defeat. The thrill of a chase. And … the loathing of a screen villain. These are sights that typically transcend some of our intellectual baggage – mainly because they align with very base feelings – so we universally accept them when we see them for what they are.
When it comes to screen villains, Coffin Joe (as played by director, writer, and star Marins) is about as elementary as they come. While his motivations might be a bit nebulous here and there (he seems hyper obsessed with perpetuating his bloodline for reasons that might lean more cultural than anything else), he’s still a bully. He’s still a braggard. He’ll torment those he happens across, and he’ll stop at nothing to remind them how insignificant they are to him. He still struts around his one-horse-town acting and dressing and speaking like everyone is beneath him; and – even worse – he’s willing to dispense with all pleasantries to see that whatever object he craves becomes his own. That doesn’t mean he’ll keep it, mind you … but he’ll keep it until something better comes along if for no reason other than he can.
In stories like Coffin Joe’s debut, there are other characters, but all of them really only exist because they’re needed in order to demonstrate the undertaker’s ability to dominate and subjugate the citizens of this tiny village to his wishes. His wife turns out to be barren? That’s ok. Joe will arrange for her to be bitten by a poisonous spider. His best friend’s girl is who he wants next? Again, no problem! He’ll simply drown Antonio (Nivaldo Lima) and seize Terezinha (Magda Mei) for a night of carnal delights. The lady commits suicide in despair over being violated? Big deal! Coffin Joe has already set his sights on the mysterious stranger who conveniently has strolled into town on the fateful Day Of The Dead. By hook or by crook, his needs will be met!
Of course, Joe eventually crosses the wrong path, namely he gets a curse thrown upon him by a fortune-telling gypsy who sees him for what he truly is. For those of you unaware, supernatural justice is mortal payback, and Coffin Joe finds himself inevitably cornered by forces well beyond his Earthly manipulations. Marins winds his cautionary tale down just in the knick of time, never allowing the character to hang on past his narrative usefulness … though I’ve been assured by the supply of the entire set that this isn’t the last I’ve seen of this creation. Much like Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, and Leatherface, nasty evildoers rarely are one-and-done, though I’ve no idea how this oppressor undertaker with a bad attitude might cheat death in the forthcoming sequel. Time will tell.
That said, there isn’t much more to make of At Midnight.
At times, the film feels like a parody, mostly because it’s old and it’s broadly drawn. At other times, it really smacks of an auteur experimenting to the point wherein he was figuring just what he could get away with. Whether or not Marins felt he crossed the personal Rubicon, I’ll never know. As a small morality tale, it works just fine. It has obvious comic sensibilities at play here and there – players speak directly to the camera in the opening monologue much in the same way any good storyteller might try to ‘set the stage’ for what’s to follow. In some ways, the feature reminded me of comedy sketch shows that crafted a none-too-scary narrator to introduce a poorly produced film only to then show up at some point in that story within a story for pure hilarious effect. Coffin Joe definitely breaks that fourth wall, speaking directly to his audience, but beyond the taunt of it (much in the same way he harangued the villagers he thought himself better than) I’m not certain how seriously I’m supposed to take all of this.
Maybe I’ll know more … with the sequel?
Honestly, I had some fun with the film. There’s some occasional camera trickery – our anti-hero’s eyes show pronounced blood veins when he’s about to lapse into some state of depravity – but it’s merely a suggestion that there’s more to the character than meets the eye. Clearly, At Midnight establishes its relative vibe, so much so that I wonder how much and exactly what Marins intended – Comedy, Horror, a treatise on the supernatural, or some other serious ‘think piece.’ Personally, I see it as a project that probably shouldn’t be viewed and taken seriously. Indeed, I kept wondering if it all was intended to be this elaborate joke – I couldn’t believe all of these townspeople would just live in fear of this somewhat scrawny undertaker dressed like a British dandy strolling around town and graveyards like he owns the places, interrupting even the sanctity of a funeral to make his mind known – and I expected it to come to some glorious finale involving torches, pitchforks, and the kitchen sink. While that never develops, there’s still a sense of closure for these good people, and maybe that’s good enough.
Of course, Joe eventually crosses the wrong path, namely he gets a curse thrown upon him by a fortune-telling gypsy who sees him for what he truly is. For those of you unaware, supernatural justice is mortal payback, and Coffin Joe finds himself inevitably cornered by forces well beyond his Earthly manipulations. Marins winds his cautionary tale down just in the knick of time, never allowing the character to hang on past his narrative usefulness … though I’ve been assured by the supply of the entire set that this isn’t the last I’ve seen of this creation. Much like Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, and Leatherface, nasty evildoers rarely are one-and-done, though I’ve no idea how this oppressor undertaker with a bad attitude might cheat death in the forthcoming sequel. Time will tell.
That said, there isn’t much more to make of At Midnight.
At times, the film feels like a parody, mostly because it’s old and it’s broadly drawn. At other times, it really smacks of an auteur experimenting to the point wherein he was figuring just what he could get away with. Whether or not Marins felt he crossed the personal Rubicon, I’ll never know. As a small morality tale, it works just fine. It has obvious comic sensibilities at play here and there – players speak directly to the camera in the opening monologue much in the same way any good storyteller might try to ‘set the stage’ for what’s to follow. In some ways, the feature reminded me of comedy sketch shows that crafted a none-too-scary narrator to introduce a poorly produced film only to then show up at some point in that story within a story for pure hilarious effect. Coffin Joe definitely breaks that fourth wall, speaking directly to his audience, but beyond the taunt of it (much in the same way he harangued the villagers he thought himself better than) I’m not certain how seriously I’m supposed to take all of this.
Maybe I’ll know more … with the sequel?
Honestly, I had some fun with the film. There’s some occasional camera trickery – our anti-hero’s eyes show pronounced blood veins when he’s about to lapse into some state of depravity – but it’s merely a suggestion that there’s more to the character than meets the eye. Clearly, At Midnight establishes its relative vibe, so much so that I wonder how much and exactly what Marins intended – Comedy, Horror, a treatise on the supernatural, or some other serious ‘think piece.’ Personally, I see it as a project that probably shouldn’t be viewed and taken seriously. Indeed, I kept wondering if it all was intended to be this elaborate joke – I couldn’t believe all of these townspeople would just live in fear of this somewhat scrawny undertaker dressed like a British dandy strolling around town and graveyards like he owns the places, interrupting even the sanctity of a funeral to make his mind known – and I expected it to come to some glorious finale involving torches, pitchforks, and the kitchen sink. While that never develops, there’s still a sense of closure for these good people, and maybe that’s good enough.
At Night I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) was produced by Indústria Cinemátografica Apolo. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … wow. This flick does not look like it’s six decades old. There’s a crispness to most of it, so much so that I kept wondering if this were a project shot on video and I was being punked. (Rest assured, that’s not the case!) As for the special features? In order to do it justice, I’m doing the faithful copy and paste from Arrow’s press release posted on the World Wide Web:
Recommended.
What’s unique about At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) – on top of it allegedly being the birth of the Brazilian Horror scene – is that Coffin Joe is both the film’s protagonist and antagonist depending upon one’s perspective. He portrays himself as against all popular (and civil) conventions, and he winds up being taken to task – by the universe, no less – for his arrogance. As the main character, you’re swept up in only casually caring about his Fate … or, at least, staying interested long enough to finally see him get what’s coming to him. (You know he’s in for a comeuppance, and most of the fun is waiting to see it delivered.) Marins crafted a charming debut – deaths and a unshown rape included – and it arguably sets the stage for something unique for those of us who still pine for something a bit different.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a Blu-ray copy of At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) as part of their Inside The Mind Of Coffin Joe Set for the sole purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Brand new 4K restoration of This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse from the original 35mm camera negative and 35mm interpositive
- Brand new 4K restoration of The Strange World of Coffin Joe from a 35mm interpositive and a 35mm print
- Archive audio commentaries for both films with José Mojica Marins, Paulo Duarte and Carlos Primati (Portuguese with English subtitles)
- Eccentric of Cinema, a new interview with author Stephen Thrower examining the early life and influences of José Mojica Marins
- On Tonight's Horror Show!, a new video essay by film scholar Miranda Corcoran looking at the mythic figure of Coffin Joe within the canon of horror hosts
- Alternative ending for The Strange World of Coffin Joe with commentary by José Mojica Marins
- Theatrical trailers
Recommended.
What’s unique about At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) – on top of it allegedly being the birth of the Brazilian Horror scene – is that Coffin Joe is both the film’s protagonist and antagonist depending upon one’s perspective. He portrays himself as against all popular (and civil) conventions, and he winds up being taken to task – by the universe, no less – for his arrogance. As the main character, you’re swept up in only casually caring about his Fate … or, at least, staying interested long enough to finally see him get what’s coming to him. (You know he’s in for a comeuppance, and most of the fun is waiting to see it delivered.) Marins crafted a charming debut – deaths and a unshown rape included – and it arguably sets the stage for something unique for those of us who still pine for something a bit different.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a Blu-ray copy of At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) as part of their Inside The Mind Of Coffin Joe Set for the sole purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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