Few filmmakers understand the absurd's potential for horror: The German Expressionists, Luis Buniel, Roman Polanski, David Lynch, maybe a few others. Of that number, I'd never think to include William Castle. Though Castle's gimmick films weren't without effective shocks, most were content to be charmingly campy. His final feature, "Shanks," saw the filmmaker moving into new creative territory, creating a film that mines the absurd to uncanny, dream-like, humorous, and unnerving affect.
"Shanks" does have a gimmick, of course. It's the only starring role of Marcel Marceau, world-famous mime. Large portions of the film lack dialogue and silent movie-style intertitles are inserted throughout. The plot revolves around Malcolm Shanks, a deaf-mute puppeteer. His only friends are the neighborhood children and, at night, Shanks suffers abuse at the hands of his cruel sister and her alcoholic husband. When an elderly mad scientist, also played by Marceau, takes notices of the boy's puppetry skills, he hires him as a lab assistant. Inside of his sprawling Gothic manor, the scientist has been experimenting with animating dead corpses through diodes and remotes. After the scientist dies, Shanks continues his work, creating twitching, stiff corpse puppets for revenge and amusement.
"Shanks" features some truly unforgettable imagery, much of it deeply creepy. Marceau's double role allows him to employ his mime skills as the creaking mad scientist meat puppet. The moment when the scientist is first revived has Marceau slowly, stiffly moving through the house, Shanks learning the ins-and-outs of the puppetry. A slow-motion attack by an undead rooster, featured in close-shots and quick cuts, should be absurd but Castle's direction creates a truly unnerving effect. Once the sister and husband are killed and revived, the movie truly begins to use its gimmick fantastically. The corpse-puppets robotically moving while shopping at a convenience store is both surreal and absurdly funny, especially the image of the two bending their bodies in half to step down a curb. Though I wish Marceau could have done more mime work himself in the film, Tsilla Chelton and Philippe Clay are both excellent in the roles. They lean in the wind, gyrate on the ground, stiffly move about, and perform bizarre, contorting dances.
The film takes a hard left turn in the last act. Shanks' closest friend is the young girl Celia. It's clear she has a crush on him and the film is ambiguous over whether the adult man shares the girl's affection. At first she is frightened by Shanks' new puppets but quickly learns to love them, especially once he gets them to stand up and dance. While having a birthday party in the scientist's dusty, creepy mansion, a group of cartoonishly evil bikers suddenly ride into the film. They invade the house, rape the girl, tie up Shanks, and steal the puppets. The film signals the story shift by having one of the intertitles go up in literal flames. The conflict is created for the purpose of the climax, in which Shanks revives his first people. The cliché of a corpse digging its way out of a grave is repurposed in a fresh, spooky, uncanny way. The last half features the most impressive mime work, even Marceau's sudden transformation into an action hero comes out of nowhere. The sepia-toned penultimate scene is poetic and bizarre, while the final scene suggests the whole film might have been a dream. That would certainly fit the surreal tone.
Alex North's vibrant score propels the film and was rightfully nominated for an Academy Award. Unseen for many years, "Shanks" was recently released on Blu-Ray by Olive Films. Olive is slowly trying to win my heart by releasing oddball obscurity like this and "The Hellstrom Chronicles." However, if they truly want to be the Criterion of cult films, they'll have to work a little harder then this. The image transfer is sometimes lovely but too often scratchy and dusty. Worse yet, there's nary a special feature on the disk, not even a trailer. Still, "Shanks" warrants rediscovery. It's bound to be the only horror film you see about mime, at the very least.
