Review - Man Bites Dog

Man Bites Dog (C'est arrive pres de chez vous) is a brutal, amazing film. It's hard to believe it came out in 1992, before the influx of "reality" programming, but then I am reminded of The 10th Victim, an even earlier example of prophesying reality TV, having come out in 1965. Anyway, Man Bites Dog could be seen to be a commentary on all-access documentaries of any form, be they newlyweds devouring pig scrotums or a pair of filmmakers following around two hopeful basketball players for ten years.

Because what it's really about is the verboten interaction between the filmmaker and the subject, about breaking down those barriers and the discomfort that relationship can cause. It's like the Paula Abdul / Corey Clark affair brought to the world of serial killing (though even I'd be wary to see what Abdul's stuffed under her floorboards)!

The film shows us the way this works in both directions, in the ways the filmmakers affect the life of their subject, a serial killer named Benoit (he uses their presence as a means to gain access to his victims), and the way Benoit affects the lives of the filmmakers (most obvious with the gradual picking off of camera operators and soundmen).

Though there are several chilling moments where you see Benoit use the film crew to his evil benefit ("Hello, Old Woman, might I come in, we're doing a news story about loneliness..."), its the way that Benoit affects the filmmakers that is really the prime meat of the film. At the beginning of the film they are only observers, documenting his killing spree, but by the end they have crossed that line, become friends with Benoit, and we see his influence slowly poisoning them until they are aiding him in his murders and gleefully raping and burying beside him.

It's all profoundly upsetting, and of course is actively taking pains to implicate the viewer, since we identify with the camera and the cameramen themselves are being seduced into participating. Not to mention Benoit is an amusing protagonist, bouncing from funny to disgusting within the span of a sentence. When he chides the filmmakers for not helping out, for not grabbing a fleeing victim, the viewer has that horrible moment of understanding his anger, of siding with the monster, we agree, "Grab that runt!" I found myself thinking. Which really is the basest design of horror - you, Mr. Viewer, are a monster too.

I really can't say enough good things about this film. If you have any interest in horror you've got to see it. It's deeply psychologically disturbing, and will haunt you for a long time, the way not many films dare to do.