If you've been a long-time reader of this blog, you know what Guinea Pig means; you know the power of that particular brand. Made in Japan, the original Guinea Pig movies were the pinnacle of gore for a blood-hungry Asian market that had always placed a high premium on explicit violence. Released on video in Japan, the Guinea Pig VHS's were big sellers, and even became somewhat notorious when some otaku, charged with a bunch of murders, was found to have copies of Guinea Pig in his massive collection.
The first Guinea Pig movie, FLOWERS OF FLESH AND BLOOD, was the goriest and most one-dimensional of the series. A samurai warrior, played by infamous manga artist Hideshi Hino, spends his evening hacking a bound girl to pieces with his sword. That pretty much sums it up. Nothing else happens. The movie is a single-minded spectacle of violence and dismemberment that, by design, dares you to stare at the screen until the blood has stopped flowing. It was followed by another single-minded movie, DEVIL'S EXPERIMENT, in which a woman is beaten until dead, and we get a counter on the screen marking the number of blows she has received.
I was living in Australia when a legitimate German box set of the series (8 DVD's) was released. The set included FLOWERS OF FLESH AND BLOOD, DEVIL'S EXPERIMENT, HE NEVER DIES, DEVIL WOMAN DOCTOR, MERMAID IN A MANHOLE (the only attempt to tell a more layered story), ANDROID OF NOTRE DAME, THE MAKING OF GUINEA PIG, and MAKING OF DEVIL WOMAN DOCTOR. On top of these 8 disks, you also got a Guinea Pig T-shirt, which I still own, and a pretty poster. At that time, the German set was the only legit way to see the movies.
In America, the series was a bootleg success, and copies were traded like gold nuggets between collectors and gore hounds who hadn't seen anything quite like it before. The first film in the series gained some notoriety when Charlie Sheen got a copy from Film Threat's Chris Gore and mistook the thing for a legitimate snuff movie. He contacted the FBI about it and scared up some controversy. After the making-of surfaced, however, Sheen looked like a right Mr. Stupid, but the film's infamy was preserved.
Eventually, the Guinea Pig flicks were released in the US by Stephen Biro's Unearthed Films, and finally they were accessible to moms and dads everywhere. The disks sold well, and it became clear to Unearthed that there was a market for Guinea Pig's brand of horror.
The film appears at a surreal moment in human history. When the Guinea Pig films were first released in Japan -- on VHS, of course -- there was no internet, so there really was nothing else like them; they were the pinnacle. They remained the pinnacle, in fact, until competing Japanese companies turned out their own realistic "gore" films such as TUMBLING DOLL OF FLESH aka PSYCHO-THE SNUFF REELS aka NIKU DARUMA and their ilk.
So, in an era where, with a click of a mouse, you can be taken to real websites dedicated to videos of real murder, real suffering, real rape, and really horrible human cruelty, where does AMERICAN GUINEA PIG: BOUQUET OF GUTS AND GORE sit?
Having just watched the movie, I can assure you that it doesn't sit in any quaint place beside its realistic "competition", although it's still comforting to know it's imagined and not actual. Like its contemporaries such as the AUGUST UNDERGROUND films, the American Guinea Pig is very much part of horror's anti-aesthetic brigade. It eschews story, technical polish, and a dazzling audio mix, and opts to presents its horrors in the raw with its pants wide open. It replicates, to some extent, the tenor of the original Pig films from Japan, but synthesizes elements from NIKU DARUMA, Nacho Cerda's AFTERMATH, and Roger Watkins' LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET. The most noticeable influence here stylistically (if you want to call it that) is Watkins' film; the killers are masked, the viscera is plentiful, and the mood is pure nihilism; but Cerda's AFTERMATH is also a major influence both visually and aurally. Pig's soundscape has many echoes of AFTERMATH's brilliant sound design, and utilizes non-traditional sounds to great effect. The killers, led by Scott Gabbey (publisher of Ultra Violent magazine), do have dialog, but their dialog is recorded low (or not so well, perhaps). The soundscape dominates proceedings, thankfully, so we're spared the mostly puerile, aggressive exchanges between the brutalizers.
The film/movie is shot on both Super-8 and video. Both formats are intercut, and their differences in texture add to the overall result. I watched the film on a 55" plasma, and regretted not watching it on a smaller tube screen as the larger size screen tends to water the image down. Still, the presentation format suits the subject matter, but I'd recommend screening the film on a smaller TV. Of course, it would be perfection on VHS.
The storyline is simple: Two women, a mother and daughter, are kidnapped off the street by a masked man. They wake up in a warehouse, and are quickly subjected to around sixty minutes of detailed torture and gross dismemberment until they both perish. Like the first two Guinea Pig films from Japan, the "entertainment" value of these anti-aesthetic works can't be quantified as you would quantify the "entertainment" value of THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE or IN A GLASS CAGE, to use two examples of extreme films that are aesthetically rich. To some extent, films like Guinea Pig are modern endurance tests, "gore" equivalents of porn endurance tests such as Sperrgebiet's scat epics, the filmic outrages of Otto Muehl, or the avantgaarde porngraphy of the German porn raconteur Simon Thaur; they compel you to keep looking as they promise to elevate the horror to a level not depicted before. Despite the amount of gore that has flowed under the bridge in the 30+ years since the original Guinea Pig's release, Stephen Biro's Guinea Pig still manages to achieve a fresh level of shock via the pretty extraordinary make-up work of Marcus Koch. On a very small budget, Koch delivers torrents of slushy body parts and gore under the scrutiny of harsh lighting, and is ably supported by the restless, voyeuristic lensing of James Van Bebber on camera; Van Bebber, in an interview on the DVD, admits that even he was shaken somewhat by the accelerating obscenity Biro kept bringing to the torture table.
For me, the film reaches its nadir in a ten minute sequence near the end where dialog is eliminated, and Biro allows grotesque imagery and sound to carry us into the heart of its Tampa darkness (the was was shot in Tampa, Florida). Think of the sequence in AFTERMATH where the mortician fondles the corpse and then opens it up, then take several leaps further, and you'll have a pretty good idea of where this film goes. While AFTERMATH was a beautiful film with a rigid, finely tuned aesthetic, this is not a beautiful film by any means: it wallows in darkness, in brutality, in a pornographic style of dismemberment that would have pleased Jeffrey Dahmer. Personally, I could have done without most of the dialog exchanges between the killers because the vocal performances aren't really strong enough to equal the power of the violence. Still, for a dedicated niche in the world market, AMERICAN GUINEA PIG: BOUQUET OF GUTS AND GORE steps up to the plate and hits a mighty home run for horror.