[psycho d]

Who Can Kill a Child? (1976). Not the most charming title ever, if you don't like it then you can choose from the twenty or so other titles that occasionally adorn this classic 70s horror flick. The opening credits are similarly without charm, combining the silly giggles of playful children with horrifying footage of the carnage of war of whose obvious focus is on the children. Heart wrenching for sure, this beginning is both important to the story, for its foreboding imagery establishes a sort of motive, and also a warning for the viewer-the following may not be pretty.

The imagery of the story's onset betrays the the festive atmosphere that our protagonists are swimmingly engulfed in. Our love of fireworks, explosions of light and sound, belies the real meaning of these party favors, man's celebration of martial carnage in his drive for glory. And such worship is not to remain without just rewards. The story then moves to one of building questions. What is happening, why is this happening, oh good god how can this get any worse? The movie, as if listening, is more than happy to answer only this last question, with aplomb of course. It is only when the unthinkable is finally addressed that this relentless thriller finally comes to a close, but this grim ending only pricks the darker fathoms of our imaginations-how lovely.

The acting seemed a little cheesy at first, serving to lower my guard as if to administer even greater psychological damage when the sandpaper's grit finally grinds home. The use of little known actors was probably a monetary choice, but it worked wonders in that no expectations are available when the moment of truth arrives.

The direction is perfectly handled. This slow burner would not have worked had any sense of speed been applied to the plot. The impending sense that something is askew is adroitly executed, suitable to the greatest of horror flicks of whose honors list this must be included.

Collusion between director and cinematography must have been thick. From the DP that gave us Volver, the camera operates perfectly, with slowly drawn out pans that are brilliantly interrupted, psychologically discomfiting camera angles, a jittery camera that implies emotions of which words seem powerless, and my favorite, the scene of a character's slow demise as they are sucked below the surface of life using a shoulder as an ocean of death that is greedy for even more deadly summons.

Even the score was a hint left of right, not entirely unjustified, but suitable for distributing the slightest tweaks of a suddenly vulnerable spinal cord.

In the end, of all the macabre horrors just witnessed, of all the disturbing imagery that is lightly zapped into our psyches, most troubling of all is that we can no longer be thereabouts when an innocent's pinata is about to experience its climax. Merci.
D