Reviewed by Michael Edwards
Stars Simon Callow, Kal Weber, Lucy Cudden, Jud Charlton,
John Shrapnel, Paul McDowell, Richard Franklin,
Terence Bayler, Robert Ashby
Written by Bruce Dickinson & Julian Doyle
Certification UK 18
Runtime 107 minutes
Directed by Julian Doyle
This is probably the weirdest film I've seen all year. Based on an idea by the lead singer of Iron Maiden (I do not jest) the film is the tale of the resurrection of Aleister Crowley, once dubbed the wickedest man in the world, in the body of a mild-mannered, if slightly strange, professor at Cambridge University. For those who don't know, Crowley (1875-1947) was a graduate of Cambridge University who became a renowned poet and writer, but was best known for his work on and practice of the occult. Of particular cult value is his work on sex and magic which used sexual acts as a point to focus magical desire and create effects in the real world.
With that kind of introduction I'm sure you'll have all kinds of crazy ideas about how this film could be, and they'll mostly be right. The base is good solid absurdity; the reincarnation of Crowley by a vaguely described virtual reality computer of some sorts is ridiculous, and even the most dastardly deeds seem to be founded on a strange sex act — at one point he manages to successfully send a semen soaked fax! This is then supplemented by a large dash of shock value; hypnotising young university girls, forcing them to strip and then killing them, group orgies, devil worship, that kind of thing which is so clearly the source of fascination that lead rock stars like Dickinson to the life and work of Crowley. And finally there's the creepy occult magic side; the bandying around of the origins of Christian celebrations in pagan festivals, the power of sex for magical purposes, mind control and the like which will appeal to atheists and satanists alike.
Having established that this is not a film for the faint-hearted or easily offended, I'd now like to suggest that it's also not a film for fans of the craft. The script is terrible and makes Dr Mathers, the physics professor brought in to work on the virtual reality computer, come across as a moron. Not only does he jeopardise his new post at Cambridge University by sleeping with a student after a single day, but when he's on the trail of said student when she's under the spell of Crowley he has to be shown three portraits of red-headed Mary Magdalenes before he realises Crowley wants her because she too sports a lovely head of auburn hair. There are plenty more of such instances that not only made me severely question the selection policy at Cambridge, but the writing credentials of a certain aging rock singer. The microcosms of madness are made bearable by a superbly hammed-up performance by Simon Callow which carries a lot of the more dubious elements of the film, but there remain a series of flaws which hamper Chemical Wedding. The plot which sees the reincarnated Crowley try and cement his newly gained place in the world is just one insanely implausible event after another, all made that much worse by completely two-dimensional participants who seem to have been conjured into the story without any thought about characterisation whatsoever. So few people question the massive character shift in mild-mannered professor Haddo that I was left shaking with frustration in my seat, and how he managed to kill, rape or generally attack so many people without notable repercussion is beyond me. And don't get me wrong, I'm all for artistic license, but this pushed things a bit far.
Perhaps the cardinal sin of this film of sins is that it just can decide what it wants to be. In his introduction to the film Julian Doyle talks of how the "first of Shakespeare's works to stir me was Richard III" before moving on to declare that "I realized one of my strengths was structure and was always impressed by well-structured pieces (like Cleese's Fawlty Towers)": this strange combination of evil and comedy is a tough thing to pull off, and it doesn't work well for this film. Evil can be amusing as well as dark, but the general ambience of the film should be dominated by one or the other. Is it another Lawnmower Man or is it The Rocky Horror Picture Show? The answer, sadly, is that it's a far cry from either of these films. Combine this with the heavy branding attaching the film to the music, name and reputation of Iron Maiden then the film may well be a recipe for disappointment. There's some fun to be had from the excesses it sports, but it is too hampered by poor scripting and a lack of cohesion to be a really good film.