Perhaps realising that the corpse-humping in Aftermath was going to be impossible to beat in the sickness stakes, or maybe because he just didn't want to risk repeating himself, director Nacho Cerdà's next project after his infamous necrophilia classic was Genesis, a poetic study of grief. With not a single frame of hot cadaver sex in its 30 minutes runtime, it might disappoint the extreme horror fans who loved Aftermath, but those who like their cinematic weirdness to have a distinct art-house flavour, it should be something of a treat. A distraught sculptor, whose wife has died in a car crash, lovingly carves her likeness out of stone. But as he puts the finishing touches to the statue, it begins to bleed. Gradually, the life-size figure of his beloved spouse becomes real flesh and blood, but, as it does so, the sculptor slowly turns to stone. In devoting himself to keeping her memory alive, and by eternally grieving, he ultimately destroys himself (at least that's how I understood it). Once again, Cerdà proves that he is an extremely adept and brave film-maker, who has great control over both his imagery and sound. The visuals are beautiful, the camera movements smooth, and his use of classical music to accompany the drama is brilliant. Genesis is surreal, hypnotic, and dreamlike effort that is open to interpretation, and how much you enjoy it will depend entirely on how well you cope with ambiguous story lines. I enjoyed this film, and applaud Cerdà's willingness to explore new territory, but, to be honest, I preferred his more prevocative and shocking Aftermath (I confess, it's the sick gore-hound in me!). However, I am looking forward to seeing The Abandoned, which he wrote with fellow art-house horror film-maker Karim Hussain, to see how well he handled his first full-length feature.
Review of Genesis
