In Fabric

There's something admirable about taking a film about a killer dress deathly seriously. It's this sort of commitment we just don't see in movies anymore and In Fabric should be applauded for daring to take its subject matter seriously.

In Fabric does start off well with Marianne Jean-Baptiste turning in a fantastic performance as a recently divorced woman working a soul crushing job, trying to take care of her rebellious live-at-home son and his truly awful girlfriend, and making time to go on dates with a bevvy of losers. Instantly, we can relate to this woman's plight and when she finds this beautiful red dress at a mysterious department store, it seems like things are looking up...until the dress starts making bad things happen. First of all, it doesn't want to be washed, so it causes washing machines to explode and, second of all, it was last worn by a model who met a gruesome end. Will our hapless heroine be next?

In Fabric's biggest issue is that it feels like a short Tales From the Crypt episode extended to almost two full hours, which leaves the audience mostly bored after the first hour. There's a major detour the film takes mid-way through when it gets bored with its heroine and introduces a new set of characters which brings the film down, because we don't care about them nearly as much. Maybe if Jean-Baptiste hadn't been so phenomenal in the first half or they'd decided to make a film about multiple characters encountering this red dress, it wouldn't have been as jarring a switch.

It looks stunning, has atmosphere in spades, and the music score is haunting, but it goes on for far too long and ends in the most anti-climactic way imaginable. It's still worthy of your time, but it's a shame a few things get in the way of it being really excellent.

One of the most visually and aurally accomplished filmmakers currently working, writer/director Peter Strickland has thus far enjoyed considerable critical acclaim and some limited arthouse, but has been unable to make much of a mainstream impact. Not that he seems remotely bothered by this, as his latest, In Fabric, is easily the most impenetrable work in his oeuvre. Although he definitely flirts with embracing the transformative power of fine clothing, he is far more interested in mocking some of the more crass elements of consumerism, particularly the pernicious lure of "the bargain", and the herd mentality manufactured, maintained, and exploited by retail corporations during Black Friday (an event that if witnessed by aliens would surely lead to them judging us too intellectually rudimentary to bother conquering). In Fabric's biggest problem is that it's made up off two loosely-connected storylines, but because the first one is so much more interesting, it leads to some narrative slackness in the second half, and all in all, it's not a patch on his best work to date, The Duke of Burgundy (2014). Nevertheless, it's brilliantly acted, looks (and sounds) amazing, has an unparalleled commitment to the more tactile elements of the medium, is exceptionally funny, and will never allow you look at a washing machine repairman in quite the same way again.

Set in a London suburb at an unspecified point in the 1980s, the film tells the story of bank teller Sheila Woolchapel (Marianne Jean-Baptiste, playing the role as if she's in a piece of 1960s social realist cinema). A recently-divorced mother to a teenage son, Vince (Jaygann Ayeh), whose girlfriend Gwen (Gwendoline Christie having an absolute blast) seems to have moved in without asking, Sheila's life is in a rut. Having recently placed a lonely-hearts ad in the paper, she has an upcoming date, is determined to make a good first impression, and so visits a Dentley & Soper department store looking to buy something nice in the January sales. All but accosted by Eastern European sales assistant Miss Luckmoore (Strickland regular Fatma Mohamed, who gleefully plays the role like she's in a Halloween special of The Simpsons (1989)), she is talked into buying an "artery red" dress. However, it doesn't take long for Sheila to realise that something is not entirely kosher about the garment - from prompting dog attacks to trashing her washing machine to floating above her bed, clearly the dress is as nefarious as a Dublin-made shell suit (although it looks slightly less ridiculous), and has nothing but bad intentions for Sheila. Meanwhile, the wedding of washing machine repairman Reg (Leo Bill) and his fiancée Babs (Hayley Squires) is fast approaching; Sheila's micromanaging bosses, Stash and Clive (a hilarious Julian Barratt and Steve Oram, respectively), have some concerns over her method of shaking hands; Luckmoore and her boss, Lundy (Richard Bremmer), spend their free time doing something questionable to a mannequin; and a game of Ludo between Sheila, Vince, and Gwen redefines the term passive-aggressive.

In Fabric is fundamentally a consumerist satire, along the lines of Dawn of the Dead (1978). The malignant control that capitalism exerts on the masses, the commodification of desire, the exploitation and manipulation of notions of self-worth - all are interwoven into the film's style and texture. Strickland has a real talent for using his themes to elevate style into something more meaningful, and In Fabric provides more evidence of that, with the highly-stylised aesthetic commenting on the ultimate emptiness of retail therapy. Leaning into the artificiality of the film's milieu, Strickland makes no attempt to construct a believable, lived-in world, asking not only how do the customers of Dentley & Soper not realise something is wrong, but so too querying whether our own real-world behaviour is any different when we see an item we've been craving turn up in a sale.

With that in mind, although this is not an especially realistic film, it is an absolutely gorgeous film, and gleefully embraces gaudy 70s kitsch. Reproducing the hyper-stylised look of classic giallos, the most obvious touchstone is Suspiria (1977), with Strickland and cinematographer Ari Wegner bathing the film in a lurid colour palette of over-the-top reds, purples, and greens. The other-worldly vibe is helped immensely by Cavern of Anti-Matter's synth score full of harsh electronic screams and repetitive droning, and the queasy, disorientating sound design by Martin Pavey. Filling the soundtrack with non-diegetic whispering and incantations, the aural design keeps the viewer constantly on edge, as if the evil in the dress has somehow infected the magnetic track - just listen to the sounds of the bargain-hunting crowds in Dentley & Soper, with the incoherent mumbling of their stampede into the store turned into a chaotic, animal-like din.

One of the film's most successful elements, and one of the reasons it's so funny, is how ultra-seriously everyone takes the whole thing. Jean-Baptiste, Bill, and Squires all play their parts as if they're in a Ken Loach film (which all three have been in the past), whilst Strickland, for his part, approaches the whole endeavour with a similar reverence - there's no winking at the audience here, and it's the absence of such winking that makes it all so funny. From Stash and Clive explaining the correct etiquette when meeting the mistress of one's boss to the sexual power that Reg has over women once he starts explaining the inner workings of a washing machine, the film's humour is rooted firmly in the fact that no one acts like they're in a comedy (just look at the Ludo game from hell or the scene where Stash and Clive discuss the difference between "looking for staff" and "trying to find staff"). The scenes of the dress crawling around Sheila's house are especially funny partly because they look so ridiculous (you can all but see the wires leading off-camera), but mainly because Strickland treats them with complete sincerity. A film about an evil dress shouldn't work on any level except parody, yet it's precisely because the film doesn't seem parodic that it works so well. This is particularly true of the insane proclamations uttered by Luckmoore ("the hesitation in your voice is soon to be an echo in the recesses of the spheres of retail"; "our perspectives on the specters of mortality must not be confused by an askew index of commerce"; "dimensions and proportions transcend the prisms of our measurements"; "did the transaction validate your paradigm of consumerism?"). This is pure verbal diarrhoea, and can only be in any way effective if it's roundly mocked. And yet, it's the utter dearth of mockery that renders each statement so hilarious.

In terms of problems, by the very nature of what he's trying to accomplish, Strickland is somewhat guilty of allowing the film's sensual elements to overwhelm the characters. Certainly, the film burrows under your skin and lodges there, and Strickland has absolute mastery of the tone, but aside from Luckmoore, none of the characters really linger because none are especially interesting as people. From an emotional point of view, there just isn't a huge amount of empathy or pathos. Also, because the Sheila plot is so much more interesting that the Reg plot, the film seems front-loaded, which is never good. And although it didn't bother me, some people will really dislike the amount of loose ends, unexplained background elements, and narrative dead ends, especially in the last act.

Nevertheless, I really enjoyed In Fabric. Yet more evidence that Strickland is a master stylist (in the best sense of the term), the craft behind the film is simply beyond reproach. Feeling for all the world like a rediscovered giallo, lost for the last four decades and restored to its original glory (complete with very questionable dubbing), it's cryptic and impenetrable, but so too is it hilarious and a feast for the senses. No one makes films quite like Strickland, where the existential and esoteric rub shoulders with the tactile and the sensual, where the textures of the milieu leap off the screen right alongside the themes. Hypnotic, seductive, immensely enjoyable, In Fabric is quite unlike anything you'll see all year.

Billed as a comedy horror on Now-TV, hmm, not your usual fare, it's quite grown up stuff. Read a review when it came out and was quite intrigued, was hard to catch due to it's limited release but glad I caught up with this. There are horror elements, I loved the 70's lo-fi visuals that layer the atmosphere. One particular scene was both funny (peculiar-but a lot of this film is) and gross out. There is a sense of dread and foreboding pervading a lot of the film. There are some laugh out loud moments, particularly toward the end. I really enjoyed this, the performances were great, didn't take itself too seriously and was engaged throughout though I felt it faltered at the beginning of the 3rd act before picking up to a satisfying finale. Certainly not for everyone, a bit arthouse psychedelic, certainly not mainstream but for me an interesting, fun and different watch. Just don't expect a lot of sense and immerse yourself in it's stylish and assured bonkersness (if there is such a word).

In Fabric is quite an interesting, bizarre film. No need to type out a synopsis of the film, that's what IMDB is for. I watched the trailer for this and the close ups, strange audio, quick cut-shots really pulled me in to click play. I love a unique horror film that makes me think, and this movie definitely did that. Honestly I will say, if I hadn't read the first sentence of another review on here that had "consumerism" in it, I am not entirely certain I would have picked up on that theme until the very end of the movie.

Majority of the movie has you guessing if the dress is cursed or if it is some type of illusion that these characters are experiencing. A lot of it is very confusing, especially the lead sales character who we aren't sure what she is. Is it a cult? Is she a witch? Why is her being bald so important? I couldn't tell you. Her strange henchman that never says anything also threw me off. I assume he is the owner of the department store, but what was their relationship and what was he whispering to her that made her snap out of her current emotion? Also couldn't tell you.

I like the theme of consumerism is killing us all, controlling our minds and it works well I suppose. I think what turned me off was that the dress could fly, float, crawl, make rashes appear on the skin but without an explanation to of WHY. Again, was the department store a cult who put a spell on this fabric or dress? I don't know! Maybe I'm missing the mark here. I enjoyed it for the most part. It's odd, creepy, eerie, beautiful and whimsical. But I don't think it deserves another above a 6 or 7. Seems like the director/writer just wanted a fancy art movie so he could complain about capitalism.

Definitely worth a watch, but as pointed by others, not for everyone. It carries a masterful arthouse 70's direction, editing, color scheme and production altogether, dressed up with weird, repetitive vintage synth tracks and some peculiar cuts at times beyond comprehension. At one point I thought the movie was stuck. It wasn't. You've been warned.