Oh my lord,the Quay Brothers were so great! True artists, they created their own very unique little medium, and I for one think that is really cool. Okay, this one's a little than your average Quay short, and I personally think that didn't work out so good with the "Street of Crocodiles", but I really love this, even though unlike a lot of the others by the Brothers that I've seen, which are practically impossible to figure out and are great that way as they're not meant to be, and you're just supposed take all the deep moods and Gothic imagery and make of it what you will, "The Comb" here has factors that make it a lot easier to grasp, although you do still get oh so wonderfully swept away in the decrepit weirdness. It sort of gives the game away right at the beginning with the phrase:"From the Museums of *Sleep*". And it's the only one I've seen to feature a real live-action human being, but even she's kinda hazy. She was like a sort of focal point. As much as I love the masterful surrealism of these films, it was a welcome change to have an anchor of sorts to pin down the overall picture and render things a little more tangible. The little chipped china-doll from "Dramolet" returns, and the flying disembodied robot hands from "Tales From Vienna Woods". There's two of them now, and it turns out they belong to the doll. What a superior haunting vision, it's all so endlessly strange, idiosyncratic and utterly hypnotic that it's pretty hard not to also find it greatly charming. They're always that way. Everything, the light the walls the floors, the muted background voices at the edge of awareness, like whispers or the rustle of pages being turned-all of it wrong, yet so immensely appealing and right! All conventional views are twisted and askew, constantly on the edge of hysteria, everything is so dreamlike and unreal-no, not dreamlike, that's not the right word in this instance. It's nightmarish, but I strongly disagree that any of these films are ever about the fear. To its credit though, Comb is eerily animated, to the point where I felt a little unnerved. It has a strong sense of foreboding about it. ::: The helter-skelter quest of the ragged puppet seems to be a window into the darker recesses of the woman's mind. And from the look of things, this woman is not well at all... Was the doll a metaphor for her innocence? Her inner-turmoil, forever climbing up and down ladders leading to nowhere that I'm guessing were representations of the layers of her consciousness, trying to reach heaven knows what but never quite getting there because at the critical point the woman tumbles out of bed and awakens from long fitful slumber. The way the doll mirrors her actions suggests that everything seen was her warped "dream". I love the poignant serenity of the final scene where the ghostly woman brushes her hair with pallid and sickly-looking beautiful hands in some lightless place in the world... Her knowing and enigmatic little smile is most intriguing. And then, just as with all Quay short films after it's over I don't know quite how to feel about all I've just seen, but I'm very satisfied and glad that I watched it.
Review of The Comb
