H6: DIARY OF A SERIAL KILLER

In a culture where popular horror films endorse conservative views of morality, allowing symbolic threats in the guise of monsters and madmen to stalk the screen only to overthrow them by film's end (and in the process, reaffirm moral stereotypes), there exists in the bloody womb of independent cinema a rare, dangerous breed. Amoral, substantial, and shocking, these fear films are honest in a cultural era when truth gets you little more than contempt. These celluloid gut-punches approach socially taboo themes with stylistic integrity, visual boldness, and emotional fortitude. Flipping the finger to common dictates of censorship, these problem children seek no acceptance and make no apologies. You'll never see their creators fondling Academy Awards, and their non-conformist visions will never see mainstream popularity. Nor do they seek it. It is enough to hunt the dark byways of the human heart, peering wide-eyed at depravity, whispering secret truths without the crutch of 'moral' justification. H6: Diary Of A Serial Killer is such a film.

"We want to hurt you" should be the movie's tag-line. When Antonio Frau (Fernando Asaco) is freed from 25 years of prison for killing his girlfriend in a fit of rage, he learns that he's inherited a large if grimy brothel from an Aunt he never knew. His sick mind interprets this as a sign from god that his purpose in life is to cleanse the world of the lonely and hopeless. A reign of abduction, torture, rape, and murder ensues. Keeping a record of his crimes and fragmented thoughts in a diary, inspired by his idol the French murderer Henri Landru, Antonio narrates much of his bloody spree. Like the chainsaw he uses on victims, the movie rips open our moral security and tolerance for on-screen victimization. Coaxing hookers, the homeless, and the despairing into dreaded 'room 6,' Antonio 'purifies' the sludge of an uncaring society just as frightening as our contemplative killer. Meanwhile he lives an unassuming, relatively normal life with his shallow, unfaithful wife. This contrast of lifestyles, reflecting the brutal against the banal, creates an admirable tension between scenes.

A thematic cousin to such films as Henry and Last House On The Left, H6 evokes something of the viciousness and bleak amorality of such downbeat inspirations -- if not surpassing them. Emotionally grueling, this is not so much entertainment as a challenge to viewers. Certainly not a popcorn movie crafted for the ho-hum self-satisfaction of Hollywood producers or brain-dead preview groups, this is horror spewing from a dark, dangerous place. Themes of isolation, psychological deviancy, and psychosis lend additional depths of terror to the more exploitative physical horrors. While the death scenes are effectively grueling, they operate on a more cerebral level than you might expect. While the effects are horrifying, the director wisely leaves the carnage for the viewer to imagine. While this is rather odd for a movie compared to Eli Roth's Hostel -- a movie that dove head-first into graphic viscera -- this less is more approach works. More effective than the physical carnage (which, truthfully, other films have evoked better) is Antonio's moments of mental and emotional cruelty, the sheer air of hopelessness and calm detachment that surrounds him and his victims, and, finally, the slow-mo rape scenes.

A bleak depiction of a sick human monster only partially hampered by an ending whose twist is too much of a trick/clich� to be effective, H6 treats violence as a messy, dishonorable waste rather than in the celebratory light of the giallo or slasher sub-genres. Naturalistic acting and a morose, grimy setting help make H6 the most disturbing and uncompromising horror effort of the year. Examining heart-rendering moments of torture, emotional cruelty, and death without any sense of pre-planned moralization or politically-motivated condemnation, the story achieves an emotional distance that, despite initial expectation, increases the unease. Director Baron refuses to comment on his killer's motivation, neither condemning or commending. Such judgments are left to the audience. The bleak, existential world created in H6 invites us to question the very possibility of morality. Whereas traditional horror cinema pretends to be disturbing by allowing some small element of chaos to infiltrate an otherwise logical world before restoring the status quo, this mean-spirited effort doesn't only refuse to give us the comfort of a context devoted to restoring stability, but depicts the world itself as essentially meaningless. Such words as morals and justice, right or wrong, are simply that - words without weight or application. There is no morality, no judgment, no status quo; there is no right or wrong: there is simply suffering, toil, and the nightmarishly indefinable. And that is a genuinely frightening thought!

H6 captures both the emotional pain and visceral agony of its characters. While admittedly fetishistic in its reckless desire to disturb, the film is equally dedicated to studying the emotional results of such crimes. This, along with the director's willingness to exchange the usual titillation of flashy surface shocks, emotionally-distancing FX, and self-conscious parody for grim intimacy, keeps our attention on the hopelessness and despair of people. Believable characterization, naturalistic filming techniques, and dirty atmosphere makes the scenes between Antonio and his victims decisively uncomfortable to watch. In addition, they toy with our expectations, sense of self, and philosophical beliefs -- exactly what a true horror film should accomplish!

Mart�n Garrido Bar�n's delvers is a multi-faceted journey through the corridors of a sick man's psyche. Minds are ruined as easily as flesh. The juxtaposition between external appearance and internal truth is also a social comment on the nature of human nature itself, which hides its base, animalistic savagery behind respectable layers of politeness and concern. Where does the illusion end and the bloody truth come fourth? Which is more disconcerting, the terror of Antonio's victims, or Antonio's own conflicted mind? These are questions whose implications lend the film an ever deeper level of sophistication, and ones that you'll have a hard time answering. You may not like what you discover . . .

Review by William P Simmons