Gretta (1984), by John Carr

It only struck me after the movie was over the significance of that title card: this movie is based off of a book. The snippety plot synopses I'm finding for this novel by Erskine Caldwell, an author I've never heard of before, don't match this movie at all. Maybe someday I'll read the book, but it's not high on my priority list. This is a movie which I feel operates mostly smoothly on its own, even if I hope that this book is every bit as good as the film. I've seen some really fucking strange movies this year, and it seems that each new discovery tops the last. Gretta, aka Death Wish Club, aka The Dark Side to Love, is one of those movies belonging to a genre all its own, where it is a true whirlwind, unpredictable in its motions. But like the characters in this film, the filmmakers play tricks on us--there is direction to the tornado. I'm not entirely sure if it's brilliant, but since I know the only answer is to rewatch the thing, I can't wait to find out.

Our film starts with a man named George introducing himself to us via voiceover. He explains that he's not interested in romance or sex; he just wants to love someone who doesn't love him back. To this end he goes out to the carnival and finds Gretta, a popcorn girl, whom he plies with hundred dollar bills to go back to his place and listen to him play Chopin. Not long after we jump perspectives to Glen, a man who falls in love with Gretta through the porn movies she now makes. Now keep in mind, Gretta isn't really an innocent victim here: her response to Glen stalking her through a variety of shady connections is to offer him sex. She's in the porn game because she likes to fuck. But he manages to build a romance with her all the same. Eventually she brings him to something she does on the side, a club populated by folk all around the world who have had close brushes with death. At some point Gretta was modeling for a sculptor who turned out to be a mad serial killer, and she had to kill him. Glen's had a run-in with the Reaper as well, so he's introduced to the club's latest game of Russian roulette with a killer beetle. As you may notice, this plot is kind of all over the place, but we haven't even gotten to Gretta's amnesia, where she becomes a man. Specifically, a '30s gangster type named Charlie White! I could go on from here, but what's the point? It is event after event after event, at a breakneck pace, never losing an ounce of crazy along the way, until we reach the most "hey don't forget we're still in this movie" ending ever.

There is a strange dissonance between the professionalism and the slackness of the script, and that is the root of this movie's disturbance. None of the plot points I summarized can come together in a rational way in 90 minutes, and as a result, Gretta ends up becoming like one of the Sandy Frank Japanese movies, sewn together from the tatters of a season of a TV show. But as far as I know, Gretta had no such origin. They made a conscious choice to use their time like this, when perhaps even just 30 more minutes of footage could have made it all make sense. Everything is edited out of order, like a dream. Take for example the scene where Glen meets with a psychiatrist to find out how to "cure" Gretta of her Charlie White persona. The psychiatrist all but encourages Glen to rape her! In fact, when he returns to where Charlie is sleeping in his apartment, Glen climbs in bed and starts going to town. It transpires that it's not Glen but some other lady, who seems fine with it! Then, when Glen asks Charlie what to do about the situation, he literally encourages him to rape...well, technically himself! But Glen is disgusted with this possibility now, when previously he had no such qualms.

One thing that does stay consistent is a running gag involving an old Swedish couple who live next to Glen's apartment who keep interrupting the movie to comment on how marvelous his sexual prowess is. Have I mentioned that trying to analyze this movie thematically is impossible? Because it's impossible to judge this movie tonally. Sleaze is cut with humor is cut with heart is cut with callousness. The hydra can't keep track of its heads. Every dramatic strike is counterbalanced with something of almost unearthly silliness. And every comedic moment is offset by something bitter or upsetting. This isn't in an attempt to keep the film a balanced breakfast, breaking up the drama with comedy while still ensuring that the drama marches forward. This is something else, something far less knowable.

I'm at a loss for words. I interrupted myself in the writing of this review to put tags on the movie and I realize that, aside from maybe just "exploitation" or "thriller," I can't place the genre of this thing. Like I said at the beginning, it really does deserve its own genre in the "you can't predict it" territory. Movies that keep piling shit up and never really resolve it in the end. These are movies like Skullduggery and Ogroff and Death Warrior. Once, I believed that these movies changed when I didn't watch them, because there always seemed to be scenes that I swear weren't in them before. I realize now that it's more just that these movies are so crammed with details that you need to come back to them again and again to see all the ways the facets glitter in the sunshine. Gretta is now among those same ranks; and I now have many adventures guaranteed in my future dedicated to the purpose of seeing just how this gem sparkles.

If you want to see something that's different from anything you've ever known, by God, watch this movie. Is that praise? Is that discouragement? I don't know! I don't care! Everything's run together muddy now, and I hope these brief and degenerate words may speed you on your way.