EYES WITHOUT A FACE: 4K UHD Blu-ray combo (Champs-Élysées/Lux, 1960) Umbrella Entertainment

Until 1960, the film industry in general, and the American film industry in particular, were uniformly contented to skate on the edge of implied human depravity; the noir crime/thriller, yet to be coined as such, still representing crime as stylish ‘whodunit’ escapism. Part of the industry’s apprehension was distinctly hinged on the ideal that a world involved in the very real carnage of war was best served by more lighthearted entertainments at home. But the lion’s share of restraint was held together by an unwritten morality clause, backed by the threat of government sanctioned reprisals as instigated via the Catholic League of Decency. The fear that church and state would somehow align against the entertainment industry, was enough to get the dream merchants to comply with producing ‘tasteful’ flicks, vetoing their creatives who, otherwise, might have wished to challenge this conservative status quo.

Hollywood had, in fact, been no stranger to salacious content in the 1920’s. Sex sold, and drug addiction, abortions, loose morals and rampant crime, oft to deify the criminal element, drew in big crowds. Yet, by the mid-thirties, moral crusaders had laid down the law. Either offer the masses more respectful art for art’s sake or face censorship. So, for nearly three decades, Hollywood’s self-governing censors took up the cause with the understanding it was best to dictate to themselves rather than placate the moralizing mandarins from without. But in 1960, three movies hit theaters to do much to strip away this mask of hypocrisy. The first two were directors, Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, and, Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom – each, to place the crux of their stories on one’s crooked empathy for a serial killer. But by far the most artistically demented of these endeavors was director, Georges Franju’s Eyes Without A Face (actually made the year before, but shelved in its native France for a year, and not to arrive in the U.S. until 2 years later). Eyes Without A Face is the deliciously diabolical tale of a guilt-riddled physician, Dr. Génessier (Pierre Brasseur) who, having inflicted a terrible disfigurement of his only daughter, Christiane (Édith Scob) via an unintended car accident, has since refocused his efforts to perform the world’s first face transplant in an attempt repair the physical damage. The psychological damage? That’s another oppression. And problem: where to acquire the ‘new flesh’ needed for these skin grafting operations?

Eyes Without a Face is an extraordinarily disconcerting movie to get through, not the least for exposing the audience to Christiane’s distorted visage, concealed for most of the movie under a ghost-white porcelain death mask, but brought into full – if brief – focus for one blood-curdling moment, or the stomach-turning episode when, in a marvel of vintage special effects that hold up to this day, Génessier, with the aid of his assistant, Louise (a bloated Alida Valli) amputates the facial epithelium of their latest victim, Edna Grüber (Juliette Mayniel) with a scalpel. Thank the movie gods this one was shot in B&W. I do not believe I could have tolerated it in Technicolor without tossing my cookies. This latter sequence proved so intensely disturbing, it caused audience members to faint at the picture’s premiere in France, and, was excised from all prints shown in the United Kingdom for nearly 25 years. If Eyes Without a Face continues to mesmerize with its sinister pall, today, the moral ambiguity with which Genessier performs his surgeries is compounded by the very real science of today: the first ‘partial’ face transplant actually performed in France in 2005. So, life imitating art leaves its own queasy unease on the mental palette; science fact to have morphed from science fiction. Leave it to the French, I suppose, for their time-honored fascination with grand guignol, grafting its theatricality on celluloid.

Based upon the novel by Jean Redon, and cobbled together by Boileau-Narcejac, Claude Sautet and Pierre Gascar, Eyes Without a Face is a movie that could only have been made abroad. A co-production between France’s Champs-Élysées Productions and Italy's Lux Film, it utilized locations all around Paris, with interiors lensed at Boulogne Studios. Reportedly, Franju, sensitive to the European censors, nevertheless, found ingenious ways to circumvent their authority. It is saying something that the critical praise, mostly lacking for the picture in 1960, has since come around in the more disturbing and cynical post-modern age where expectations for such shock and revile are not only warranted, but desired. Yet, even under such perverse anticipations, Eyes Without a Face holds up spectacularly.

Our story embarks one clammy and windswept night, as Louise hurriedly drives to a remote location to dump the remains of Génessier’s latest victim into some icy waters. In short order, we meet the stoic physician, giving a lecture on human regeneration via a complex process of exsanguination. This ‘fountain of youth’ fantasy is appealing to the well-healed crones in the audience who would like nothing better than to be twenty-one forever without first to contemplate the ethics sacrificed in order to achieve the impossible. A short while later, the corpse is dredged by police from the river, forcing Génessier to falsely identify it as his daughter, Christiane, earlier reported as ‘missing’ after suffering a horrendous disfigurement in an automobile accident.

Returning to his chateau in the suburbs, heavily guarded by atrociously caged dogs on which Genessier frequently performs experiments, and, also to function as his private clinic and home, Génessier instructs Louise to keep Christiane in her room. Tormented by her ugliness, Christiane is comforted by Louise who promises, very soon her father will unearth the life-altering secrets to perform a successful face transplant that will restore Christiane to her fiancé, Jacques Vernon (François Guérin), studying under Genessier, but unaware of the murders. However, when a desperate Christiane secretly telephones Vernon, he begins to suspect the man he has looked up to in his medical studies is, perhaps, a mad scientist. Meanwhile, Louise has found their next victim, Edna Grüber.

Befriending the girl with theater tickets, Louise later offers Edna an affordable room for rent, knowing of her desperate circumstances to find suitable housing in the city. At dusk, Louise takes Edna to Genessier’s clinic. Alas, and too late, Edna realizes the horrible truth, chloroformed by Genessier, strapped to a gurney and taken into the bowels of the clinic to have her face cut off.  Delayed in his surgery, Edna awakens momentarily to see Christiane standing over her without her mask. Made unconscious again, Edna is sacrificed, her flesh transplanted onto Christiane. At first, the operation appears to have been a success. The tissue responds to its new host and Christiane begins to heal, making plans to be reunited with Jacques. Tragically, within a few days, necrosis sets in and the flesh begins to rot, forcing Genessier to perform yet another painful procedure to remove it. Distraught, Christiane telephones Jacques, whispering his name through the receiver before having her call intercepted by Lousie.  

In turn, Jacques informs Inspector Parot (Alexandre Rignault) of the uncanny resemblance between his late fiancée and various murder victims recently discovered. A plot is hatched. Parot places an impossible demand on one, Paulette Mérodon (Béatrice Altariba), arrested for shoplifting. If Paulette will feign illness and register at Génessier's clinic, presumably for ‘treatment’, but actually to observe what is taking place there, the criminal charges against her will be dropped. Not long thereafter, Paulette is picked up by Louise. Génessier chloroforms her too, but before he can begin her heterografting, he is called away to deal with the police. Meanwhile, Christiane, disgusted by her father’s heinous experiments, frees Paulette and then, attacks and kills Louise by stabbing her in the neck with his scalpel. Having momentarily discouraged Parot from his investigation, Genessier returns below stairs to find Christiane has liberated the wounded dogs. The animals attack Genessier and devouring his flesh in the fields just beyond his laboratory while Christiane, having ostensibly descended into madness, liberates a flock of doves from their cages.

Eyes Without a Face is unsettlingly lyrical. Reportedly, this was the film to inspire the creation of Michael Myers in John Carpenter’s Halloween (1977). Christiane’s penultimate murder of Louise, who ostensibly knew Genessier’s experiments were wrong, but loved Christiane so completely she sacrificed her own morality to restore the girl’s looks, is played with a blood-curdling lack of emotion. There is a cruel Frankenstein vibe to the screenplay as it hints at possible salvation for the girl with no face, but then, as with the monster in Mary Shelley’s masterpiece, reveals to all – though especially to the creature being tortured in these experiments – no reprieve is forthcoming.

The most delineated character in the picture is Christiane. Édith Scob’s mute ingeniously creates human empathy for this faceless mannequin, exclusively through wounded gazes of abject humiliation. At 90-mins. there is not enough time to explore a backstory; the accident that resulted in Christiane’s disfigurement, hastily explained in just a few lines, never to be referenced again. There is also a creepy bi-curious vibe to Alida Valli’s seduction of these young women. Somewhere along the way, Louise’s scientific thirst to see Christiane made whole again translates into a fetishized pursuit to reconnect with her own youthful urges for the man she admires.  Eyes Without a Face is deserving of its reputation today as a demented horror classic. Nothing like it had been seen before it. Regrettably, the American debut, two years after its actual premiere, left much to be desired, dubbed in English and rechristened with the ill-conceived title, The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus, it made no ripple, though ruffled a good many feathers in critical circles reviewing the movie. In the intervening decades, despite ever-advancing make-up and SFX to increasingly churn the stomach, nothing even remotely as cringeworthy has come along to rival its truly perverse and unsettling visuals.

Eyes Without A Face arrives on 4K Blu-ray via Umbrella Entertainment, in a region-free combo that is as shockingly good as its wicked subject matter. The grayscale here has been superbly rendered, showing off Eugen Schüfftan’s brutally elegant cinematography to its very best effect. Location work mildly suffers from a slight downtick in contrast, compared to the studio-controlled interiors. But everything here is as it should be, and likely was when the movie debuted in 1960. A light smattering of film grain appears indigenous to its source. The 2.0 DTS mono adequately captures the atmosphere of the piece.

As this is a French film, English subs are included, but can be turned off. Writer/actor, Graham Duff weighs in with an audio commentary that, on occasion, meanders. Much more rewarding, the brief video essay from Lindsay Hallam, and an interview with Edith Scob who offers insight into the casting and making of the movie. Last, but not least, this disc includes director, Franju’s Blood of the Beasts – a disturbing 1940 documentary. There is also a reissue trailer for Eyes Without a Face. All of these extras are duplicated on 4K and Blu-ray, and, both discs are region-free, meaning, they will play anywhere in the world. Bottom line: Eyes Without a Face is a shuddery masterwork. Once seen, it can never be forgotten, which is to suggest it lingers in the mind like a reoccurring nightmare. Umbrella’s 4K/Blu set is a winner. Very highly recommended.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

5

EXTRAS

3.5