“These shoestring-budget shot-on-video works already demonstrate Atanes’ characteristic gifts for composition and staging combined with a knack for finding bleakly evocative locations that reinforce his themes of power, oppression, exile or, entrapment and the dream of alternate realities where freedom might be possible.”
The films of Carlos Atanes — Codex Atanicus, FAQ, PROXIMA, and Maximum Shame, feature outsider characters who dream of or find themselves stranded in alternate universes. Like his fictional creations, Atanes is also an outsider — outside the established Spanish film industry and, so far, outside American distribution.
Atanes arrived on the scene in the 1990s with several surreal, underground short films, including Metaminds and Metabodies, Morfing and the corrosive Welcome to Spain. Original, bizarre, provocative, they reveal many of Atanes’ principal influences, including surrealist progenitors such as Bunuel, Arrabal, and Jean Cocteau as well as Greenaway, Lynch, Cronenberg, Ionesco, Stanislaw Lem, Philip K. Dick, and Boris Vian, among others. These shoestring-budget shot-on-video works already demonstrate Atanes’ characteristic gifts for composition and staging combined with a knack for finding bleakly evocative locations that reinforce his themes of power, oppression, exile or, entrapment and the dream of alternate realities where freedom might be possible.
Atanes struggles to get his films made and then, because there is no interest by Spanish distributors or Spanish festivals or the majority of Spanish reviewers, he is compelled to heavily work the world festival circuit to get his films seen and to pick up some scattered distribution. Though his films have received numerous positive reviews from American websites that specialize in underground and horror films, his work has as yet received only a limited and highly problematic arrangement with a sub-distributor for one film (FAQ) and distribution via online download on Amazon.com (PROXIMA).
The other lead character, Angeline (Anne-Celine Auche), is a young woman scheduled to surrender her reproductive functions to metacontrol and become a cog in their power structure, but she is clearly ambivalent. During the sequences of the film where she is central, she renders her thoughts and observations in voice-over, creating a counterpoint to Nono’s silence. She decides to take him with her on a trek into the wilderness. Ultimately they venture into a vivid desert wasteland. But any thought of resistance or escape is quashed immediately, and order and control are again imposed. The ending suggests that only in the space outside of reality, the place of fantasy, is any kind of escape from the oppressive system possible. FAQ is noteworthy for its striking visuals — Atanes’ camera placement and framing are always evocative — and for his characteristically brilliant use of locations, which are not explicitly futuristic yet succeed in creating the sense of degraded, alienating near-future.
In 2008, Atanes briefly returned to his roots in surrealistic short films with Scream Queen, a bizarre miniature about a journalist who must undergo a terrible ordeal in his quest to interview a famous horror actress. Scream Queen can currently be seen on youtube and other online venues.
In 2010, Atanes directed Maximum Shame, a film currently popping up intermittently on the U.S. underground film festival circuit in hopes of finding a distributor. With Maximum Shame Atanes combines all the elements of his previous work: the underground surrealist aesthetic of the early shorts with the SF aspects of his two earlier features. The film begins with a woman (Ana Mayo) giving a disquisition on the staggering number of variations possible in the game of chess before moving on to a consideration of the number of possible alternate universes that may exist in reality according to modern physics. After she finally retires, her distressed husband (Paco Moreno) gets out of bed and foretells the arrival of a catastrophe in the form of a black hole into which the world will be plunged and most likely destroyed that very night. After pronouncing this grim prophecy and staring at the night sky in anticipation, he crawls in terror under the bed, disappearing into that dark space. In the blink of an eye he finds himself in the alternate universe that remains after the disaster. He falls into a squalid, deserted warehouse presided over by the Queen (all the characters are named after chess pieces) on roller skates, played with relish by Marina Gatell, who trusses up her subjects in bondage gear and denies them the ability to speak or eat while she rants at length.
Wandering in this strange new environment, the husband, the Rook, encounters the Queen, who immediately assumes a position of dominance over him. After allowing him to suckle at her breast, she has him impaled through the throat with a spear by a mute, idiot character, the Pawn. His wife, the Bishop, wanders through the warehouse in search of her lost husband. For the time being the Rook is removed from the “game.”
Despite the film’s eschewal of any conventional causality, one earlier sequence seems to lead decisively to this reversal and involves yet another dream. After the Bishop, searching the warehouse for the Rook, is knocked unconscious by the Queen’s pawn, she dreams of an encounter with another character, the Knight (Ignasi Vidal). The Knight suggests that he is an angel. He carries illustrations and calculations for the construction of a “transverberation” machine designed to bring about extreme or ecstatic states. Mystical or sexual transport, violence or death, or some combination thereof, they are all forms of violent rupture of things as they are, possible transcendence or escape, an opening to another dimension or order of being (including perhaps union with God). Transverberation derives from a particular brand of Spanish Catholic mysticism, especially that of Saint Teresa de Avila. The spear that impales the Rook at the beginning of the film and that will impale him and the Bishop as they embrace in reunion is the spear that pierces the heart of the mystic whose quotidian reality is shattered by union with the divine.
Ultimately the Bishop’s dream yields a decisive moment when she finds herself imprisoned in cardboard box next to the Knight, who is imprisoned in a box of his own. Here, during one of the film’s two surprisingly compelling musical numbers, she is able to provide him with a crucial lost number sequence that appears to influence the oracle’s actions that lead in turn to the Queen’s downfall.
Even more than Calderon de la Barca’s play, Maximum Shame is permeated by dreamlike indeterminacy. Its plot cannot be reduced to a simple log line. Like David Lynch’s Lost Highway or even Last Year at Marienbad, it is open to multiple interpretations. It defies any easy genre categorization as well, perhaps explaining the difficulty the film has had in finding distribution.
In Maximum Shame, Atanes presents what is perhaps the definitive delineation of his themes of power and oppression. But here the consolatory power of dreams or fantasies seems in question since the entire alternate world is itself essentially oneiric if not literally a dream — or more accurately a nightmare permeated with the dynamics of domination, dread, and subjugation. This alternate universe is a trap, a suffocating enclosed world where every variation in the “game” ultimately leads to the same result. Whatever the actual rules of this mysterious chess match (and it is hard to tell), it always ends in oppressors and the oppressed, winners or losers: there is no escaping the nature of the game itself. The nightmare warehouse, a locus of radical isolation and constraint, is a totalized system in the mode of the extreme utopias or dystopias of discourse delineated by Roland Barthes in his book Fourier/Sade/Loyola (Atanes cites Barthes as an influence). The warehouse of Maximum Shame is a very particular closed universe, a freakshow wonderland that Ana Mayo’s Alice ventures into. But it is also and more disturbingly a distilled mirror version of the real universe we all occupy right now.
In the wake of Maximum Shame Atanes turned his attention back to a long-held dream project, a biopic of Aleister Crowley. Crowley, with his practice of magick involving sex and power and ritual placing him at odds with established values and society, is a natural subject for Atanes. A previous attempt had resulted in the forty-minute Perdurabo. This most recent attempt quickly ran aground due to lack of financing, and Atanes has been forced to shelve it for the time being.
Note: The primary sources for information on Carlos Atanes and his films are various websites devoted to underground or science fiction film such as Bad Lit: The Journal of Underground Film; Extraordinary Video and Movie Guide (interview); Cinetrange (interview); Atanes’ own website; and personal communication between the director and me.