A Page of Madness Review
It’s somewhat odd that the first silent horror movie in black and white from nearly a century ago, which I end up reviewing, is neither Nosferatu nor even The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. And yet at the same time it makes sense, despite its subjective nature, that it’s a movie from Japan. If no other similarity applies, horror and trauma, as entertainment outlets, have one common synonym: shock. I don’t really know what specific reason drives Japan to be entertained by trauma. Maybe it finds solace in the comfort of having faced the worst of life head on after they have been marked by something too disturbing to qualify as entertainment (for most audiences) for even the catharsis to be cured. Maybe, much like claustrophobic thrillers that rip out your comfort zones in the same vein as a violent video game like Unfriended, Saw, The Green Room, The Mist, or The Thing, the calm moments are like a hug for their inner children compared to what they’ve had to put up with, especially given the level of intimacy that it would entail. I don’t really know, though my personal opinion is the fact that much like we never really mature we also never really surrender our inner edgelords. The closest we do get to giving them up is essentially applying a layer of self-deprecation in a way that implies we wouldn’t do anything to anyone that we wouldn’t do to ourselves first. Fortunately this movie came out in 1926, when Japan had yet to even introduce us to a lot of things. So at the start of the movie the images are unsettling yet beautiful. The way the effects and camera movements are shot nearly feel like an art form in themselves. Although the sheer look (and maybe bits of its style) would make me think of a PG rated Begotten it reminded me more of the very performance art dance which influenced the latter called “Butoh”, especially since its origins are also primarily Japanese. The music is also soothing yet knows how to fit the mood when it needs to. As for the story itself that may be its weakest link. On one hand it practically feels like it’s up for debate with the way it’s filmed. Even without dialogue frames it still manages to fit fading flashbacks to help get each character’s point across. The closest I could get in terms of an adequate narrative was a Janitor trying to help a jealous patient leave an asylum while another patient drives all the others insane with her dancing. However, it turns out that you can’t really tell if it’s the patient that’s crazy or the janitor for reasons that would require a second viewing to explain properly. Like I said it leaves it all up for interpretation. Either-way in terms of horror the psychological aspects of it (from the intense emotions of each patient’s psychosis to the drama embroiled with that same music and imagery) especially take off during the final act. Despite being slow in bits it certainly gives you a very uncomfortable One flew over the Cuckoo’s nest kind of vibe by the end and is definitely the most restrained yet nevertheless enjoyable Japanese horror movie I’ve seen thus far for even a lost film, even though that should be a given considering what would go on to succeed it.