As diverse in style and content as they are, Álex de la Iglesia’s films do share a few notable characteristics: an adrenaline-rush narrative propulsion, a penchant for startling left-hand swerves in their storylines, and an almost gleeful willingness to offend more delicate sensibilities when it comes to depictions of sex, violence, and religion. This holds true from the start of his career. De la Iglesia’s feature debut, the scrappy sci-fi satire Acción Mutante, revels in the chaos of his anarchic sensibilities, even if its critique of religion is mostly limited to a hysterical takedown of the sanctity of marriage.
In a future society dominated by the cult of health and beauty, the disenfranchised have been forced underground, turning to acts of terrorism against the ableist establishment. The most notorious of these bands of brothers is the so-called Mutant Action group, whom we meet in the middle of the abortive attempted kidnapping of a famous bodybuilder, where maximum carnage ensues. Then, in the first of many TV news bulletins that punctuate the film, the anchorman (Jaime Blanch) introduces us to each of the Mutant Action members via mug shot and criminal résumé. It’s a clever way to acquaint us with our resident antiheroes, as well as part of Acción Mutante’s ongoing satire of how the media (mis)informs society at large.
Reunited with their redoubtable leader, Ramón (Antonio Resines), who’s recently been released from prison, Mutant Action sets out on one last mission: to kidnap Patricia Orujo (Frédérique Feder), daughter of billionaire businessman Lord Orujo (Fernando Guillén). Viewers are already primed to suspect that things will go horribly (and hilariously) sideways with the gang’s interplanetary master plan, and they’ll hardly be disappointed in their expectations. But it’s how the script by de la Iglesia and regular writing partner Jorge Guerricaechevarría, a.k.a. Guerrica, gets there that’s the real pleasure, resolutely zigging precisely when you think it’ll zag, throwing out surprising reveals and uproarious set pieces with equal aplomb.
One of the biggest surprises comes when it’s revealed that Ramón has his own murderous agenda—and one that doesn’t include the other members of Mutant Action. The film proves unabashedly antiauthoritarian by showing that Ramón (presumed to be the underdog) is as treacherous as Lord Orujo. Over Acción Mutante’s second half, a real dark horse hero emerges in Alex Abadie (Álex Angulo), half of a pair of Siamese twins. With his lack of independent autonomy, Alex can be considered someone who’s “beneath the underdog,” to quote the title of jazzman Charles Mingus’s autobiography. But even Alex can’t escape the film’s pervasive satirical gaze: He’s constantly arguing with his brother, Juan (Juan Viadas), until a truly nasty plot twist leaves Alex with the quite literal burden of his other half’s presence.
Once the action reaches the sparsely inhabited mining planet Axturias, the film changes gears somewhat. It begins to resemble a Mad Max movie as directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro, while the primary target of its satire shifts to gender relations, starting with the fact that Patricia now seems to suffer from Stockholm syndrome. Even as Ramón drags her along the dusty byways of the desert planet by the hair, she proclaims her sympathies for him, given his alienation from and by the social structure, in a scathing parody of Marxist doctrine. A later scene featuring three generations of sex-starved miners plays out like one of the most demented dinner scenes this side of Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.
The film’s climax shifts modes yet again, now embracing the multiple-firearm “Mexican standoff” iconography of a spaghetti western, albeit one directed by an amphetamine junkie who’s just mainlined Stephen Sayadian’s post-apocalyptic porno Café Flesh. In the end, Acción Mutante’s splattery carnage leaves no one scathed, and its savage sense of satire seems to have consumed all. But there’s still room in de la Iglesia’s film for a kind of redemption for one of its worst offenders, as well as a burgeoning love story between two of its now karmically balanced survivors. Watching the film these days, it’s easy to see the broad strokes of a truly distinctive sensibility at work, one that de la Iglesia would continue to refine over the next 30 years.
Image/Sound
Severin Films’s new 4K restoration of Acción Mutante is sourced from the original camera negative, and it looks excellent overall considering the film’s deliberately scrappy origins. Aside from some minor speckling, and a couple of briefly visible vertical scratches, the image is largely free from damage. The increased dynamic range on the UHD ups the ante in terms of color saturation, as well as the depth and delineation of black levels. Flesh tones look more or less lifelike (given the often hideous makeup), and grain levels appear agreeably resolved. The film’s active soundscape registers well in Spanish Dolby Atmos, Master Audio 5.1 surround, and MA two-channel mono mixes, depending on your preference and system configuration. All of them solidly convey the film’s raucous rap-metal soundtrack (imagine an Iberian Faith No More).
Extras
The commentary track by Álex de la Iglesia, Jorge Guerricaechevarría, and production designers José Luis Arrizabalaga and Biaffra is an absolute blast, as abundant in wisecracks as it is insights about Acción Mutante’s production history. No less enjoyable are a quartet of on-camera video interviews, with the director, writer, and production designers returning to expand upon the anecdotes shared in the commentary, and with not too much in the way of repetitive overlap. Topics include the influence of Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro’s Delicatessen and Tod Browning’s Freaks, lining up the support of El Deseo S.A. (the production company owned by Agustin and Pedro Almodóvar), Acción Mutante’s origins as a short film called Space Pirates, and the inspiration behind some of the weirder design aspects.
Also tapped for discussion are actor Antonio Resines and effects artist Raul Romanillos. Resines acknowledges his early acquaintance with de la Iglesia, savors his role’s more over-the-top aspects, and fesses up to the filmmakers’ addiction to risk-taking throughout the shoot. Romanillos talks about working in his studio, the improvisatory quality of the effects work, and the filmmakers’ positive attitudes. Rounding out the package are a making-of featurette, some behind-the-scenes footage, an image gallery, trailer, and music video.
Overall
Álex de la Iglesia’s raucous sci-fi satire makes its domestic home video debut with an impressive 4K UHD transfer and a full roster of amusing and informative bonus features.
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