Cinematic horror has thrown us plenty of terrifying creatures, but perhaps the one with the most dramatic entrance was the monstrosity in Ridley Scott’s “Alien,” which not only gave us stomachaches but introduced the larger world to the artistry of H.R. Giger. What kind of man had such a dark and disturbing imagination?
Belinda Sallin’s documentary about the artist makes some headway into the question, but if it’s a bit flat that’s because Giger himself was well past his prime when the film was shot. Born in 1940, he passed away after suffering injuries from a fall, on May 12, 2014. This was not long after Sallin completed her movie.
Mostly shot within the confines (and constraints) of his Zurich home with its creaky stairs and book-lined narrow hallways, the house is reminiscent of the claustrophobic aisles in the former Acres of Books down in Long Beach.
Dressed in black, Giger resembles a young Peter Lorre and a young Marlon Brando, with a touch of the current John Baldessari. He doesn’t really look old, but he moves slow and looks pained. Even when he cracks a smile it’s more of a grimace, and he speaks in a guttural tone of voice. However, nobody really comments about his health.
Fortunately, he has devoted friends friends and associates and a young wife who attend to his needs, and everyone affectionately calls him Hans Ruedi. We then accompany him to Austria, where he is honored at an event, and we see him signing books (and other things, like sleeves and arms) at the H.R. Giger Museum, in Switzerland, which houses many of his astonishing drawings, paintings, models and sculptures. Also in Switzerland are two Giger-themed bars, which means they’re dark and atmospheric.
Giger’s creatures are unsettling and his style has been described as biomechanical, with his biomechanoids like figures out of a Bosch nightmare merging with metal–with endless, often twisting pipes and tubes and snaking, vegetal shapes that often recede into shadow. Giger’s work–with its special appeal to goth or metal rockers as well as tattoo aficionados–has graced book and magazine covers, and record jackets: Deborah Harry; the Dead Kennedys; Emerson, Lake, and Palmer; among others.
Giger’s design for the creature in “Alien” was inspired by the art of Francis Bacon. As the camera follows the artist shuffling through his rooms, a few titles from his bookshelves are visible. Lots of art books, of course, including Salvador Dalí and Wilfredo Lam and, I would imagine, the Belgian Félicien Rops. There is also a section devoted to H.P. Lovecraft (why am I not surprised?).
In the yard there’s a miniature railroad that runs through a garden that is closer to a post-apocalyptic Mayan jungle, and of course it’s no ordinary train but rather like something escaped from an industrial dystopia. Our late film reviewer, Les Paul Robley, raved about it to me years ago after visiting Giger at his home.
Sallin not only interviews Giger’s wife (now widow) Carmen Maria, but also Mia Bonzanigo, to whom Giger was married from 1979 to 1982 (they remained friends), and consideration is given to Li Tobler, an actress and model with whom Giger had a stormy but fertile relationship. She killed herself in 1975, at the age of 27, a death that haunted the artist for years, and probably to the end of his life.
Archival footage shows us Giger as a young man when his energy and his talent were at their peak. Sallin, to be honest, arrived a couple of years too late. Her film captures the last rays of light on a man who created some remarkable work, but who now says he’s made peace with his life and seen and done all that he’s wanted to. In this sense, that of a parade having gone by, the film pairs well with last year’s documentary about the movie director Alejandro Jodorowsky and his failed attempt to make “Dune”–a film for which Giger himself created many designs. Sadly, it fell by the wayside and entered that wistful category of “What if?”
“Dark Star: H.R. Giger’s World” opens tomorrow for one week at the Nuart Theatre, 11272 Santa Monica Blvd., just west of the 405 Freeway, in West Los Angeles. Showtimes: Fri-Mon at 12:30, 2:50, 5:10, 7:30, 9:50; Tues-Thurs at 5:10, 7:30, 9:50. Call (310) 281-8223.
