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Dark Star: H.R. Giger's World. Directed by Belinda Sallin. Running time: 95 minutes. At the Cable Car Cinema in Providence starting May 15.
Some artists seem to have popped in from another dimension to show us what life looks like over there. They don't appear to have any readily identifiable influences; one looks at their work and wonders where the hell it came from, how someone could start with a blank space and come up with ... that. Picasso is one such artist; so is Jack Kirby, in the realm of comics; and then there's H.R. Giger. A Swiss maestro of airbrushed surrealism, Giger etched his name in film history when he designed the creature in Alien. Suddenly, the relatively unknown artist's name was synonymous with "biomechanical" and "psychosexual dread." Giger's bizarro-erotic nightmares won him a legion of fans and inspired a slew of artists, musicians, and tattoo artists. Some people have Giger's work tattooed onto their skin; some have his autograph tattooed onto them; some have his face tattooed onto them.
Belinda Sallin's documentary Dark Star, which finished shooting not long before Giger's death last year at age 74, is a bit unconventional in that it doesn't walk you through an A&E Biography-style synopsis of the man's life. We don't see photos of little Hans Rudolf Giger scampering around his back yard. We don't know how he got started as an artist, or how his style developed, if indeed it did develop and didn't just come out that way naturally. The movie comes across as a last visit with Giger, whose gait has been slowed and speech thickened by time but whose eyes still twinkle with mischievous spirit. We meet various people in his sphere, including an ex-wife and an assistant. They all help him deal with his paperwork and his massive collection of art and books -- he's a bit of a hoarder. A couple of the rooms in his mazelike Zurich house look like the rooms cluttered with chicken remains and human bones in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, except here the remains are just art.
The movie talks a little about Giger's first wife, who killed herself in 1975, and whose fate is still a raw wound for Giger. Perhaps understandably, Sallin doesn't engage with the long-standing rumor that Giger had his late wife's skeleton stripped by carpet beetles and installed in his home. Then again, the tragedy is about the only whisper of darkness in Dark Star. Giger is surrounded by people who love and admire him. He's turned his home into every creative person's dream, including a sort of ghost train in his garden, which tracks through a variety of Giger-esque visions of birth. He even has the prerequisite standoffish cat ("Muggi III") who has the run of the place. The movie is an appreciation but not really an investigation into Giger's life or work or the connection between the two.
Sometimes a more conventional documentary can answer questions. I was curious to what extent, if any, Giger's dark biomechanical sensibility was forged by growing up in Europe during wartime (Switzerland was famously neutral in WWII, but was bombed multiple times anyway by the Allies due to its closeness to Axis countries). I'm still curious. If you always wanted to watch Giger sign autographs or sit in meetings, Dark Star will be your jam. You do get to see some vintage footage of him at work with his airbrush, or on the set of Alien, though you'd think that was the only movie he ever worked on. (His alien from Species is referred to obliquely, but there's no mention of, say, Poltergeist II or Alejandro Jodorowsky's infamously aborted Dune.)
In brief, Dark Star is an object for Giger fans, not an argument for why he has fans. It's made to be shelved alongside his Necronomicon and the Alien box set; it doesn't bother cozying up to the uninitiated. Which is its right, I guess, but as a casual admirer of his work, I didn't learn much, nor did the sight and sound of an obviously pained Giger make me feel especially good about gaining access to his "world." At times, the camera seems intrusive, tracking him as he makes his halting way between shelves that groan under the weight of art books, or recording his slurred speech (stroke? mouth cancer?) as he speaks about his late wife. The film gets close when we don't want it to, and vice versa.
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