Guillotine

You wouldn’t normally expect to find much humour in a film about public executions, but Guillotine has other ideas. Spanning several centuries and five separate stories, we as viewers are taken  through the history of one of the world’s most infamous methods of execution with historical drama, satire, dark comedy and some gruesome practical effects along the way.

The film is narrated by Sean Young and begins in France, where a rather messy public beheading demonstrates that executions aren’t always the clean and efficient business those responsible might wish them to be.

Enter Dr Guillotin (Laurent Andruet), who, along with his colleagues, sets about improving the process. Their proposed solution is a mechanical contraption that will supposedly make executions quicker, tidier and more humane for everyone concerned, including the condemned and their families.

They are, of course, referring to the guillotine.

I should probably state from the outset that, in my opinion, Guillotine is very much played for laughs, despite the unpleasant subject matter. Some of the performances are deliberately theatrical, the dialogue frequently satirical and the whole business of designing a more efficient way of removing somebody’s head is treated with an almost ridiculous enthusiasm.

And it works reasonably well. I had a chuckle here and there… then found myself frowning at the fact that I was chuckling at what is essentially a dark and nasty subject matter! Nevertheless, I found the period sets convincing, the acting suitable for the material and the practical effects impressively gruesome.

The second chapter seems to move towards a very different question altogether. What happens to our consciousness when we die? More specifically, might somebody remain aware of what’s happening immediately after their head has been separated from their body?

Historical figures including Antoine Lavoisier and Charlotte Corday feature in accounts of supposed reactions following execution, while a group of individuals take the discussion into considerably stranger territory through an experiment involving the mind and what might lie beyond death.

It’s all a bit trippy, but in amongst the absurdity of what we are watching I found an interesting contradiction here. If consciousness continues after the blade falls, just how humane was this supposedly merciful invention in the first place?

From there we move to Nazi Germany, where a chief executioner enthusiastically discusses the efficiency of his profession with a female interviewer. He demonstrates various methods, explains his improvements and introduces the German equivalent of the guillotine, known as the Fallbeil.

What made this chapter interesting was its presentation. At times it feels almost like one of today’s fly-on-the-wall television documentaries, with a man proudly explaining the workings of his job as though he were demonstrating a piece of factory equipment.

Of course, the job happens to involve killing people.

The performances of all in this section remain deliberately exaggerated, and its the contrast between the casual conversation and the actual subject matter that provides moments of comedy. It’s a different approach but I found it entertaining enough and well put together.

The fourth story takes us to Algeria, where an executioner of American origin dreams of leaving his profession behind and beginning a new life elsewhere. Accompanied by a priest, he prepares for another execution while attempting to justify his involvement in the process.

This chapter is somewhat reflective from the perspective of the man responsible and the effects on his conscience rather than the mechanics of the machine itself. Again, it’s sufficiently well-acted and succeeds in offering another perspective, although I can’t say anything about it particularly stood out for me.

Finally, we arrive in Iraq in 2003, where the sons of Saddam Hussein are using a guillotine to dispatch prisoners in what I assumed was an underground hideout called the red room. Here they appear to treat the whole execution business as little more than an everyday inconvenience.

The contrast between the brutality taking place and the casual behaviour of those responsible returns us to the darkly comic approach of the earlier chapters. As events outside begin to catch up with those inside, the story reminds us of the film’s recurring ideas about power and punishment.

Throughout its five chapters, I thought Guillotine was consistently well presented. The sets and costumes were convincing, the performances suited the changing styles of storytelling and the practical effects certainly didn’t shy away from showing us what this particular instrument was designed to do.

What impressed me most was how comfortably the film moves between periods and its approaches without feeling completely disjointed. One chapter might resemble a historical comedy, another a philosophical experiment and another a television documentary, yet the guillotine remained the solid connection throughout.

While I found each chapter reasonably entertaining, none really stood out as particularly memorable. There are interesting ideas and some effective moments, but the scenes are short and didn’t allow me to be particularly invested in any of the characters or their individual stories. But perhaps that is as it should be. Each chapter arrives, makes its point and moves on while ensuring we understand that the central character throughout is the guillotine itself.

Maybe that’s the limitation of trying to cover so much history and so many different perspectives in a relatively short running time. Regardless, Guillotine has something to offer in each of its chapters, even if some aspects work better than others.

The closing narration reminds us that France last used the guillotine in 1977. Other methods of execution have continued around the world, of course, even if this particular machine has largely disappeared into history.

So, whilst I sat pondering the film’s underlying messages, the one I took from it was that although the contraptions might change, along with those operating them and the governments authorising their use, the act itself remains..

Guillotine is unusual. That’s one of its strengths along with being competently made and strengthened by some good performances, convincing production design and effective practical gore. It held my attention throughout, and I appreciated the different approaches to its subject matter.

Ultimately, though, I found it more interesting than memorable. An entertaining enough collection of stories, but not one that left a particularly lasting impression.