Cannibal Holocaust. Salo: The 120 Days of Sodom. Cannibal Ferox. All are films that have an infamous reputation amongst fans of disturbing underground cinema—films that mainstream moviegoers would never watch, if for no other reason than because they’re too violent, too disturbing, or even too gross. Yet, there are followings for each of these films—cult groups of fans who revere these movies and the men who made them. The films live on, available in the cult sections of independent video stores, talked about in fanzines, and lusted after by viewers with a taste for something a little more extreme.

Yet, for all the hoopla surrounding these films, they all tend to pale in comparison when talking about the Guinea Pig series from Japan. Why is that? Well, for starters it’s because no matter how extreme the films I mentioned earlier are, it’s always clear that they’re films. If things get too hairy for you, you can always remind yourself that ‘it’s only a movie’. And while some installments in the Guinea Pig series of films (which is up to its ninth entry now, if I’m not mistaken) certainly play as short films, others, like Flower of Flesh and Blood do not.

It is this blurring of the line between reality and cinema that has earned the film such a cult following—both here in America and abroad—and what inspired actor Charlie Sheen to turn his copy over to the FBI in the early 1990s, believing it was a legitimate snuff film (although, as this tale has been retold over the years, it isn’t entirely clear if it was this installment or 1985’s Devil’s Experiment that was the episode that Sheen viewed). The subsequent investigation, by both the FBI and Japanese authorities (which included stopping by to have a chat with Deep Red magazine editor Chas. Balun) revealed what anyone with half a clue about gore films and moviemaking already knew—that Flower of Flesh and Blood was a gruesome exercise in gore and Japanese exploitation, but that it was also fiction.

Flower of Flesh and Blood certainly plays like what a legitimate snuff film might look like—it’s got essentially one set (a closed room), one victim, and one sadistic Japanese man dressed up in period samurai garb. There’s little here in the way of plot, which only adds to the confusion of extremely naïve film fans.

The nearly forty-five minute long short opens on a street in Japan. A camera follows the progress of a pretty young Asian girl as she goes about her day. The film cuts several more times, showing her in different locations, largely oblivious to the fact that she’s being stalked. Finally, as night falls, she realizes that she’s being followed. She attempts to flee, but doesn’t manage to escape.

When we next see the girl, she’s unconscious, tied down to a bed in small and dingy little room. We see her assailant for the first time, a Japanese man with horrible looking teeth and dressed in samurai garb. He’s sharpening a knife, which he then uses to kill a chicken over the girl. From here, things get pretty intense.

Our samurai drugs his victim, putting her into a state where she’s still barely conscious, but doesn’t feel any pain. The victim, who’s about to bloom into the flower of flesh and blood, must be aware of the process of transformation, and welcome it in a kind drug induced euphoria, apparently.

With his victim now prepared, the samurai strips her naked, then begins dismembering her piece by piece on the bed. We’re treated to a hand amputation, the removal of the arm at the shoulder (complete with chisel and hammer to break through the bone, adding a nicely realistic touch to the proceedings), and removal of both legs (and you can hear the saw cutting its way through bone—another nice touch).

Finally, we see the samurai open the chest cavity and remove the intestines and internal organs—a scene intercut with close-ups of the girl’s face as she vomits blood and finally dies. However, our samurai isn’t done yet—he continues on with his ritual, chopping off the head, the removing one of the eyes, which he then licks and devours.

The transformation complete, the samurai has a cigarette while the camera shows us trophies from previous encounters. Then the film freeze frames on the shot of another girl on the streets of Japan and fades to black—letting us know that samurai is still out there.

The film was helmed by Japanese manga (comic book) artist Hideshi Hino. Hino’s film is a stark and unrelenting viewing experience for sure, but hardly something that should be mistaken for the genuine article when it comes to snuff cinema.

There are countless things that should indicate to anyone with a background in filmmaking or film viewing that this is a fictional production and not some homemade video of real murder. Flower of Flesh and Blood contains not only a soundtrack (admittedly minimalistic, but a soundtrack nonetheless), but also some fancy edits (including multiple angles of some scenes), slow-motion, point-of-view shots (including one from the chicken’s perspective), and also credits. All are techniques that would be missing from a legitimate snuff film—provided that such a thing even existed to begin with.

To Hino’s credit, he does do a good job of blurring the line between fantasy and reality for much of the running time. While Flower of Flesh and Blood is clearly a twisted piece of cinematic fiction, it still can hit you right in the gut with its unrelenting depravity. I’ve always said that the Japanese make some of the most twisted exploitation cinema in the world, and this film only confirms that notion. Flower is a disturbing piece of cinema that is definitely not for mainstream consumption and might even disturb some of the more jaded fans of hardcore gore out there.

Invariably, the thing that gets the most praise from fans of this film is the FX work, which is quite impressive for the most part. To an undiscerning horror fan, the FX work here is really good—and the added touches, like the sound of the saw grinding on bone and the hammer and chisel working the shoulder free only add to effect. However, those more familiar with the workings of gore FX will undoubtedly spot some scenes and sequences that are clearly staged. A shot of a knife opening the stomach cavity looks particularly fake, with it being clear that all of the blood is coming from the dummy knife and not the wound itself. The blood and viscera itself looks a little suspect as well, but not so bad that it detracts from the atmosphere overall. At any rate, I mention these things solely to show that while the FX work is good, it’s not without a few flaws.

Flower of Flesh and Blood has recently hit DVD (thank god—now we can all pitch those shoddy bootleg copies we’ve been watching for years) and the results are fantastic. The film looks great, and the companion piece on this disc, The Making of Guinea Pig, is an excellent look at the production (reportedly made in response to all the ‘it’s real snuff’ allegations).

Overall, Guinea Pig: Flower of Flesh and Blood deserves the reputation it’s received. It’s an intense and disturbing little vignette with numerous artistic touches designed to make it play as more than a simple gore piece. Few will see it for anything other than the gore, but it’s nice that there’s at least an attempt at adding some kind of dimension. The FX work is impressive, the film technique solid, and the overall end result is a short film that will leave you bothered by its imagery for a long time after the screen fades to black. You can’t ask for much more than that.


Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening