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There has been no shortage of critical praise surrounding Wicked Pixel’s
SCRAPBOOK and every word of it has been well deserved. Even I could gush
like the Nile and heap on the accolades about how brutally intense and
powerful the film is. It’s raw, passionate, and honest in its depiction
human depravity. Of all the things I could say, the one thing you won’t
hear come from my lips is that I liked it. For me, it’s too brutal, it’s
too raw, and the most frightening of all - it’s too honest.
To admit that I liked this film is to admit that on some level I found
the 90 minutes of rape and violence the tiniest bit pleasurable. If you
can find anything in this movie pleasurable then I strongly plead with
you to seek help. I know this great doc... er, tailor... who would just
love to fit you for a nice, new white overcoat with shiny silver
buckles. And I hope to hell that he locks you away for the rest of your
days, you sick bastard.
I’ve seen Mondo videos and those Banned From Television tapes where real
people are photographed blowing their own heads clean off, but I never
saw anything in those videos that would upset me enough to keep me away
from the dinner table. I wish I could say the same for SCRAPBOOK. I
tried to watch it over a month ago, and I had to turn it off. It’s taken
me almost 6 weeks to build up the courage to put it back in the VCR.
The only thing more difficult than watching the movie is writing about
it. That means I’ve got to reflect and think back. Trust me, I would
much rather forget everything I saw, but the sad, horrible truth is that
I know I wont. SCRAPBOOK haunts you for days afterwards and there’s
really escaping it.
Oh, too hell with it, here goes nothing…
Screenplay writer Tommy Biondo takes on the role of Leonard, a character
he spent 5 years researching. Biondo wanted to be sure he captured the
true sickness serial killers suffer from. Emily Haack is Clara,
Leonard’s latest victim. She’s raped, beaten, humiliated, tortured,
starved, and raped some more. Yep, this movie is just fun for the whole
family.
Leonard keeps a scrapbook filled with Polaroid snapshots and writings
from his victims. He wants to experience his actions through their eyes.
By having them capture their anguish on paper, he’ll always know someone
else’s pain was at some point worse than his own. He’ll know that at
some point he was in control, that he was the dominant one. And he
guarantees that he’ll never forget the act. The only hope Clara has is
to use her writings in the scrapbook to manipulate Leonard into feeling
sympathy for her.
I could sit here and blow smoke up Stanze’s or Biondo’s butt all day
long, but the truth of the matter is they would have never been able to
pull this movie off without Emily Haack. No Hollywood, girly-girl
actress would have allowed herself to be subjected to such a barrage of
cruelty. As an actor, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone more open, brave,
and strong. Without Haack as the resonate core holding the picture
together, SCRAPBOOK would just be another TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE knock
off.
No, SCRAPBOOK is not a knock off. I’ve never seen anything like it and I
hope to God I never do again. Powerful filmmaking can be a beautiful
thing, but I’ve never known it to also be so ugly.
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