If there was such a thing as too much silence between two people, Ultraviolette and the Blood-Spitters Gang’s lack of noise speaks volumes. Ultraviolette and the Blood-Spitters Gang is awaiting a UK release date.
Hospitals or asylums have historically been dramatic settings for audiences to sink their teeth into. Packed with backstories cloaked in mystique and a healthy dose of oddity, documentary and fictitious narrative formats have succeeded when utilising their unseemly charm. Ultraviolette and the Blood-Spitters Gang embodies the sentiment beautifully, though its unusual straddling of disparate filmmaking leaves a confusing last impression.
Filmmaker Robin Hunzinger uncovered a box of hidden correspondence between his late grandmother, Emma, and a seemingly stranger, Marcelle. The findings tell their story of schoolgirl sweethearts in the 1920s, parting ways as Marcelle succumbs to tuberculosis. Marcelle paints a vivid picture of rebellion from the confines of treatment, dubbing her confidantes as the “Blood-Spitters Gang”.
Within Ultraviolette’s opening seconds, its visual artistry is laid out entirely. Archived footage used throughout holds a haunting beauty, with the narrative subtext highlighting the luxury of the moving image. A French film noir tone to its structure, heartwarming memories of childhood frivolity resonate with all, and the painting to ominous music is effective in achieving the foreboding of what’s to come. Quickly, archived footage becomes intercut with family snapshots and occasional frames that unreasonably stray from black and white—leaving the viewer unsure where fact ends, and fiction begins.
A forced poeticism is felt throughout Marcelle’s reimagined correspondence, almost as if it were a parody of the timely period drama. Ultraviolette’s love-hate rhetoric is virtually Shakespearean, making for a dramatic recalling of magnified emotions. Much like any film, the overall effect will depend entirely on subjective taste, though there’s a stronger sense of being able to lean into its format. Instead of committing to one structural strategy and sticking to it, Ultraviolette chooses to encompass it all, which often doesn’t sit cohesively.
Because of this, it’s challenging to connect emotionally to Emma and Marcelle’s haunting story. Narrative focus shifts from 3rd to 1st person, taking you out of the moments to which the narrative hook so desperately clings. Almost preachy in its overall tone, there’s a heightened intensity of feelings from the hospital confines—though it never truly feels like this wanton romance is reciprocated. With such heavy bouts of romanticism, it’s difficult to tell how much of the relationship was fabricated, as the audience is forced to process information from an unnecessary distance.
If there was such a thing as too much silence between two people, Ultraviolette and the Blood-Spitters Gang’s lack of noise speaks volumes. There’s a lot to continuously take in—from alluring visual scenes drowned in water to the extreme emphasis on needing to seduce. As facets of life from all touchpoints move swiftly past the screen, the heightened moments of intense feeling are balanced by an overwhelming question: What is the film achieving? Many directorial choices feel forced and unnecessary, casting doubt on how genuine the depiction of such a sobering story is. It’s always a challenge conveying a story with so many pieces missing, and it doesn’t quite land on this occasion.
A touching story that doesn’t quite let audiences into its heart, Ultraviolette and the Blood-Spitters Gang is a beautifully haunting picture with a myriad of underlying issues. While some will instantaneously be able to connect to letters long lost, a wider mainstream audience may have more of a problem. Embodying Marcelle’s continued sense of invincibility, the sporadic lack of cohesion ultimately hinders her story from being accessed fittingly.
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