Let the Corpses Tan begins with a gorgeously stylized armored car robbery as a trio of criminals led by the charismatic Rhino (Stephane Ferrara) hijacks 250 kilograms (550 pounds) of gold. Hoping to lay low, the gang seeks refuge with an eccentric artist (Elina Lowensohn) in her secluded compound on the shore of the Mediterranean. But it’s only a matter of hours before a pair of leather-clad cops show up looking for a woman who kidnapped her child, who is also at the compound looking for her estranged husband. After a gang member shoots one of the cops, it ignites not only the remaining cop’s fight for survival to protect his wounded partner, but the gang turning in on itself in an attempt double cross one another to get away with the gold.
The film has Helene and Bruno tackling an action film with the tools they’ve honed to near perfection in adapting the Giallo for a new generation. Their lush cinematography and vintage soundtrack choices here are surprisingly effective as they tell this story of betrayal and desperation with little to no dialog. The story is primarily conveyed through its fetishized and surreal visuals, which were captured on 16mm. It’s a film that with its fractured timeline coupled with countless twists and turns makes it easy to succumb to this audio-visual assault on the senses. The main narrative here also breaks for these almost Jodorowsky-esque interludes with a subplot involving a gold painted woman in a desert, which could be simply a hallucination of those involved or the supernatural force behind the events unfolding at the compound.
Since the film was originally shot on 16mm, 2K or near HD is actually perfectly adequate for capturing all the grain and detail from this format. That being said, given the film and content you can tell great care was taken in retaining that celluloid feeling. There is a fair grain presence and the colors here are beautifully over-saturated to enhance the gorgeous cinematography. The soundtrack here is also an aggressive sound mix as you would expect given the mix on Strange Color. This is to perfectly accentuate the visuals and bring this visceral experience to the home. My only issue with this disc would be the paltry extras; fans are only given a commentary by two critics who also wrote a book on the pair. While they deal out some great insight on the film, I can’t but help wonder why the directors themselves weren’t brought in to record a track. The French release for example is 3 Blu-rays packed with not only interviews with the cast, but short films as well.
Let the Corpses Tan is a densely layered feast for the senses, filled with the couple’s trademark eroticism and violence. It’s a complex and compelling film that isn’t satisfied with simply being consumed in a single viewing, and thanks to this release it can be experienced again and again to dig deeper into the film’s overflowing myriad subtexts. With all these young filmmakers attempting to recreate these bygone genres, Helene Cattet and Bruno Forzani have proven yet again to be the only filmmakers capable of not only just mimicking these styles, but also imbuing them with their own vision while still not feeling like they’re pulling a page from Quentin Tarantino. Let the Corpses Tan is a frantic genre fan’s celluloid fantasy projected on screen that seduces as it overwhelms the viewer.
Let the Corpses Tan is available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber on January 8, 2019.
