Censor, 2021.
Directed by Prano Bailey-Bond.
Starring Niamh Algar, Michael Smiley, Nicholas Burns, Vincent Franklin, Sophia La Porta, Clare Holman, and Felicity Montagu.
SYNOPSIS:
A film censor tries to figure out what happened to her missing sister after watching the movies of a particular filmmaker as the lines between reality and fantasy start to blur.
The ‘Video Nasties’ era of the early 1980s is a moment in time that has been documented by numerous industry professionals and academics over the years – and will no doubt continue to cause fascination for years to come – but there aren’t many actual movies about the subject. Censor, the debut feature from Prano Bailey-Bond, did the rounds last year and ended up on many critics’ End of Year lists, so the good people at Second Sight Films have packaged it up in an extras-packed limited edition for you to peruse with a little bit more context, thanks to the nuggets they have included.
It’s 1985 and Enid Baines (Niamh Algar) is a film censor who, along with her colleague Sanderson (Nicholas Burns), has attracted attention for passing an extreme horror movie at rated 18 but with cuts, after which a man commits a murder using the same methods as in the film. Now a known quantity by the media, Enid watches a movie by horror director Frederick North and so begins her descent into madness and obsession when North’s movie Don’t Go in the Church triggers memories of a past event where her sister disappeared and was never found. Believing North’s leading actress to be her long-lost sister, Enid tracks the filmmaker down to try and come to terms with her past.
More of an ideas film than an all-out horror movie, Censor will certainly trigger a lot of memories for those of us who remember that time in British history when the moral majority tried to pin all the ills of the country on a handful of movies that were an easy target to blame for people (and dogs – if you know, you know) going mad and copying what they saw on a TV screen. Of course, nobody ever committed a crime because of a movie, song or video game but because they weren’t well and needed help, and writers Prano Bailey-Bond and Anthony Fletcher have tapped into that idea with Enid’s plight and her traumatic past shaping her present state of mind.
The movie does pose the question of what type of person would want to spend all their waking time watching hours of film footage with the intention of chopping and changing it into something more socially acceptable, and Enid, on the surface at least, appears to be the ideal candidate; even her colleagues brand her ‘Little Miss Perfect’. But one particular piece of footage sets her off on a downward spiral of anxiety and trauma, forcing her to confront something that her parents have seemingly managed to let go of.
Where Enid goes and what she does after that is very indicative of the kind of newspaper stories that popped up at the time, blaming the likes of Cannibal Holocaust or The Evil Dead – movies that are now readily available in luscious special edition formats for us to cherish forever – because somebody may have walked past a poster for it or been in the presence of the video box and then went on a killing spree, all of which is nonsense but the authorities at the time had no qualms about putting people in prison for daring to own a particular movie.
For her part, Niamh Algar gives a stellar performance as Enid, dressing conservatively and looking every part the moral crusader but as the film goes on her appearance starts to slip along with her mind, a nice touch from Bailey-Bond to add something to the character without making it too obvious. In fact, Censor is full of nice little touches, such as the aspect ratio shrinking when Enid begins her final journey into madness, fictional movie titles being very similar to real ones – Don’t Go in the Church being an obvious example – and the obligatory neon pink lighting which does feel a little overdone by now thanks to the likes of Mandy and Beyond the Gates but many a video nasty were similarly lit so it fits.
Reflecting the themes of other movies such as Videodrome and Berberian Sound Studio, Censor is hardly original when it comes to its actual plot – a character descending into insanity triggered by outside stimulus and/or a traumatic past event – but the specific period setting and Enid’s job as a censor make the movie stand out a little more, offering up a social commentary on the era and the common perception of things that aren’t easily understood by the wider public, something which still resonates today as the current state of the world proves.
Clocking in at under 85 minutes, Censor does pack in a lot – perhaps a little too much – for such a short movie but that hasn’t stopped Second Sight from bolstering up the film with a selection of extra features that certainly add to the experience. Three audio commentaries are provided; one featuring Prano Bailey-Bond, director of photography Annika Summerson, editor Mark Towns and sound designer Tim Harrison that adds a little technical perspective, one from genre experts and academics Kat Ellinger, Lindsay Hallam and Miranda Corcoran, and, probably the most informative and useful for context, one from Prano Bailey-Bond and writer/critic Kim Newman, who also serves as executive producer on the film and was a prominent figure in genre writing at the time of the video nasties (and still is).
Naturally, there are numerous cast and crew interviews and a short Making-of featurette, plus Bailey-Bond’s short film Nasty, a Q&A with Prano Bailey-Bond and composer Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch, a conversation between Prano Bailey-Bond and BBFC compliance officer David Hyman and a very entertaining interview with Severin Films head honcho David Gregory, who offers up his take on the video nasty era with tales of tape trading and getting raided. As if that wasn’t enough, for the uninitiated the set also includes David Gregory’s two-part Ban the Sadist Videos! documentary that shines a spotlight on the key figures in the video nasty furore and analyses what was really behind the whole thing.
On its own, Censor is a movie that offers up more ideas and interpretations with repeated viewings. As a movie – as represented in Flickering Myth’s unique scoring system – it comes up a little short as this is not a blockbuster viewing experience, despite having a few moments that echo the era it is set in; this is a film swathed in neon and fake blood but is asking you to look beneath the surface at what is really going on – very much like the video nasties panic itself – and interpret what you see using your own judgement. As such, Censor is a sensory mood piece that may not shock you in the way that the movies it references did but it will linger in your brain for longer, and it also highlights Prano Bailey-Bond as a filmmaker to watch as she clearly has a vision and a love for the genre so it will be interesting to see where she goes next.
As a whole, this release is an essential companion piece to any video nasty collection, especially as a contemporary viewpoint for an era fading into British history. Unfortunately, it also serves to show how little we have advanced as a society since campaigner Mary Whitehouse declared war on video nasties without ever actually having watched one, as one quick glance at social media – and the world of the uninformed bystander with an opinion – sadly proves.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Chris Ward
