Santa Sangre is Alejandro Jodorowsky’s version of a horror fairy tale, smeared with clown makeup and tied with a sequin bow. It could just be my observation but something about this film reeks of 80s cocaine and excess: kind of like Macho Man Randy Savage or the fact that Don Johnson thought he should record this song. If you’ve seen a Jodorowsky film (The Holy Mountain, El Topo) you know that he’s a fearless director: unconcerned with a linear plot, generous with insane visuals, lots of taboo, and never lacking imagination and scale. His films are pretty out there even for an arthouse regular and Santa Sangre is no different.
The film is told through flashbacks of a boy’s unconventional life growing up in a circus. Fenix is a child magician with a midget companion, a philandering knife throwing father Orgo and an acrobatic cult member for a mom, Concha. Get Dr.Phil on the horn. His father’s affairs with a tattooed (and very flexible) hussy set the story into motion and this is when things get weird. When trying to explain the rest of the plot you’ll probably get a raised eyebrow or an “Are you high?” but stay with me. You see during a heated argument Orgo chops off Concha’s arms but she survives! Years later a grown up Fenix and his mother create a creepy Vaudeville style act Concha and Her Magic Hands where he uses his arms to act as hers. Through matching costumes, a shared bed, and many Lee press-on nails the pair’s peculiar bond grows stronger yet is strained by the mother’s over possessive nature. It feels inspired by both Carrie and Psycho with his mother hissing “Killllll heeerrrrr” to any woman he has his eye on. But like Norman and Carrie before him, sometimes you just gotta tell your mom to chill the fuck out.
