Each month in Horror Queers, Joe and Trace tackle a horror film with LGBTQ+ themes, a high camp quotient or both. For lifelong queer horror fans like us, there’s as much value in serious discussions about representation as there is in reading a ridiculously silly/fun horror film with a YAS KWEEN mentality. Just know that at no point will we be getting Babashook.
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***SPOILERS for In A Glass Cage follow.***
Synopsis: Klaus (Günter Meisner), a former nazi child-killer and rapist, is confined in an iron lung inside an old mansion after a suicide attempt. His wife, Griselda (Marisa Paredes) hesitantly hires a full-time carer, Angelo (David Sust), a mysterious young man with ties to the old man’s disturbing past.
Queer Aspect: Klaus is a gay pedophile who is sexually tortured by Angelo.
Content Warning: The film not only addresses pedophilia, but features the disturbing sexualized murder of two young boys.
Where to Stream: In A Glass Cage is streaming on Shudder (US) and Tubi.
Joe
Happy times with this one, Trace! After a few months of thrillers (Road Games) and camp classics (Looker!), we’ve opted to program one of the most notorious and controversial films on our list (originally timed to coincide with the release of the new Saw film Spiral <sigh>).
Well, I must say, In A Glass Cage is certainly something.
Before we dig into things, I wanted to flag that content warning up top for anyone who hasn’t watched the film. I really appreciated In A Glass Cage and I am a noted enthusiast of child murders in horror films, but this film doesn’t contain the campy enjoyable deaths I’ve cackled at in, say, The Blob or even Zombeavers. The murder of two boys in this film are heavy and, particularly for audiences struggling through a pandemic, this may not be the film for you right now. And that’s OK.
With that said, I really enjoyed Spanish writer/director Agustí Villaronga’s debut film, in no small part because of its moral and visual complexity. The film has a fairly scant plot: Angelo forces his way into the lives of a family living in exile in Spain, then promptly gets rid of the two adult women – he murders Griselda in a fantastic sequence early on and fires the maid, Jornalera (Imma Colomer) – so that he and Klaus can recreate the child-murders documented in Klaus’ diary from the concentration camps. Klaus’ daughter, Rena (Gisèle Echevarría), who is still living in the dilapidated mansion, eventually becomes involved as the film explores how molestation and abuse are cyclical and doomed to repeat themselves.
And therein lies my fascination. The film is reportedly informed by the real life crimes of Gilles de Rais; it also has very obvious parallels to the mutilation and genocide of children in WWII; and, finally, it works as a troubling, difficult stand-alone piece of fiction about rape, trauma, vengeance and madness.
It’s also not as simple as other rape-revenge films. Yes, Angelo was abused by Klaus, but he’s not content simply to murder his rapist. Angelo (quite literally) becomes his aggressor, as both the murders of the boys and the final shot of the film attests to. It’s uncomfortable, and icky, and polarizing, and fascinating all at once, particularly given the artistry on display in both Villaronga’s very determined use of colour (cool blues and blacks with occasional pops of red) and the symbolism of various cages, which keep these characters imprisoned within rooms, machines, the house and, of course, their own horrific trauma.
But let me back up to the opening, which is a masterful introduction of both the themes and cinematic techniques that are employed in the film. In A Glass Cage begins with a hanging child (Christ-like, which is appropriate given the heavy religious influences in Spain that Villaronga would have grown up with). The boy is half-naked and shows clear signs of physical and sexual abuse at the hands of Klaus, who is alternating taking pictures and caressing the boy’s body (Sidebar: I legitimately can’t believe that this image is the film’s poster. Talk about courting controversy!)
When his pedophilic desires are satiated, Klaus murders the boy (off-screen) with a plank of wood and climbs to the roof of the ramshackle building. He then throws himself off in an attempt to end his own life. At the same time, the audience is made aware of another person watching via voyeuristic POV shots; this someone (later revealed to be Angelo) collects the folder of notes and photographs that Klaus has left behind.
I raise the opening because of its heavy reliance on voyeurism. Not only is there a focus on cameras and eyes, but both are associated with sex, sadism and murder. In his essay on the film, Donato Totaro ties this to scopophilia (finding pleasure in the act of voyeurism), which is later remarked upon when Jornalera associates Klaus’ iron lung machine with the movies (“The machine makes me nervous, it’s like being at the cinema”). Of course, Angelo also derives (implied sexual) pleasure from watching Klaus in the opening and, later, making his tormentor watch as Angelo recreates Klaus’ murders from the camps.
Trace, I’m interested to read your reaction, which I fear will be far less positive than mine. You’ve raised concerns in the past about the dangers of portraying queer victims of sexual abuse growing up to become killers. Did you have those concerns with In A Glass Cage? Did the murder of either boy bother you? (Apparently, the one who is injected with gas is the main reason that the film was banned/protested). And what did you think of Griselda’s giallo-esque murder set piece?
Trace
Good Lord, Joe. No one is ever going to forgive us for subjecting them to this film! Admittedly, I had never heard of In a Glass Cage (or Tras el cristal, if you’re reading from a Spanish-speaking country) prior to you programming it for us, so to say that what unfolded was unexpected would be a massive understatement. This is one uncomfortable movie and, as you mentioned, it certainly won’t be for everyone. Hell, I’m not even sure it’s for me!
Like you, I admire what the film is doing, but would I ever watch it again? I’m not entirely sure. Would I recommend it to someone else? Sure…with some pretty big caveats (meaning: “Hey, this is a really powerful film, but it features pedophilia, rape and child murder. Enjoy!”).
That Villaronga would select this as his writing and directorial debut is even more astounding. This is a remarkably accomplished feature debut: it’s gorgeously shot, and the mise-en-scene juxtaposed with the less-than-gorgeous subject matter makes this viewing experience all the more jarring.
Joe, you went into detail discussing the film’s opening (which does so much to set up the rest of the film that I didn’t realize what I was watching until after it was over), so I suppose it’s up to me to move on to the taboo subject of child molestation and murder. To start, let’s take a look at one of the many passages from Klaus’ diary:
“My assistant tied them to chairs with large leather straps. Then I’d fill a syringe with gas and stick a long needle in their heart. I had never felt anything special while doing it. Later, I understood why. I never looked into their eyes. I had never bothered to watch those long agonies that could last five whole minutes. Horror, like sin, can become fascinating. I still had not discovered it. That night, three boys were still alive. I don’t know why, but they were. Motionless, tired. The youngest one, perhaps 10 years old, stared at me. His frightened eyes were inside of me. I felt uncomfortable, yet, it was also pleasurable. I separated him from his companions and took him to another room. It was small. I closed the door and cornered him. I began to take off my clothes. The child did not move. First, I took off my white coat. Then my uniform. Slowly, I unbuttoned my shirt, my pants. He looked at me confused and expectant as he would a madman. I supposed he waited for the needle as he had seen done before. But no, I didn’t want him to die. I wanted pleasure. His eyes were two endless tunnels. I came up closer. I was naked. I grazed his neck to better feel his fright. I continued caressing myself; my hands leveled at his eyes. He squinted slightly as he watched. I masturbated on his face. I felt his loathing invade me, giving me pleasure.”
That this is read aloud by Angelo gives the passage an even more disturbing air. He reads it as he slowly (so, so slowly) disrobes and masturbates on Klaus’ face. And, of course, later Angelo brings a boy home and injects gasoline into his heart. When I walked into In a Glass Cage I expected some sort of rape-revenge film, but this particular avenue is not something I expected. I’m conflicted over it.
It makes sense that Angelo would be so traumatized by his experiences with Klaus that he would suffer from a few issues (to put it mildly) in his adulthood, but to eventually become Klaus? That’s a more difficult pill to swallow. You rightfully referenced our article on Insidious Chapter 2, because I did take a similar issue with that film. Angelo becomes a murderer (and possibly queer…though sexuality seems to be quite fluid in the film) because of the abuse he suffered at the hands of Klaus.
I’m uncomfortable linking queerness to abuse, especially in a film that also links psychopathy to abuse, because that creates a link between queerness and psychopathy. It reminds me of all the times I’ve heard non-allies throw around the nature vs. nurture debate when discussing whether or not being gay is a choice. And to have psychopathy thrown into that conversation? It makes me uneasy. I understand that that’s the point of the film, but I’m still unsure of how I feel about it.
Before I turn it back over to you I’ll move on to some lighter fare: Griselda’s murder. You are well aware that I have a distaste for gialli (mostly because of their nonsensical narratives), but this murder set piece is simply stunning. Stylistically, it feels like it belongs in a different film. Not just the look of the scene (which really puts all those blue lights to good use), but in the way it’s edited and shot, all the way down to the camera angles. The film spends an excruciatingly long time following Griselda as she walks around the house. It’s so long, in fact, that it didn’t reek of a giallo murder set piece. Considering she’s presented as a main character and this scene happens about 50 minutes into the 111-minute film, I didn’t even suspect that Griselda was about to be murdered. It’s a beautiful scene and its climax calls to mind the opening death in Argento’s Suspiria (even if Suspiria isn’t technically a giallo film).
And then Angelo puts Griselda’s corpse on top of Klaus’ iron lung, leaving Klaus to stare at the face of his dead wife overnight. Way harsh, Tai.
Joe, what did you make of the relationship between Angelo and Rena (for some reason, Echevarría reminds me of a young Rumer Willis)? And what about that ending? Is Rena doomed to repeat the cycle started by Klaus? Or do you think she’ll find a way to break it? We never dove into Klaus’ backstory. Do you think that he was also abused by someone as a child? Or was he “born this way?” Does hypothesizing why Klaus is the way he is even matter? Does anything matter?
My soul is crushed, in case you can’t tell.
Joe
Reading over your thoughts definitely reminded me of how I felt immediately after screening the film. In A Glass Cage isn’t a film that you can casually watch and walk away from once it’s over. It’s a mentally demanding viewing experience and then it takes a long time to process. I needed nearly a full day before I could even begin to organize my thoughts!
Ultimately I don’t think Klaus’ backstory matters. I will confess that I am fascinated by Klaus and Griselda’s marriage because there’s a hint very early on that she knows something of his past (hence why they’ve gone into exile), though whether she suspects his status as a Nazi, a queer or a pedophile (or all three) is – as so many elements in the film – unclear.
Aside from that, however, I’m wary of speculating about events that aren’t seen or referred to in the narrative. We’re told the basic details of what we need to know about Klaus, but beyond the journal and Angelo’s (potentially unreliable) childhood memories, there’s no clarity. All we know for sure is that Klaus is a pedophile and a Nazi. In A Glass Cage is distinctly uninterested in offering easy or comforting answers. For me, the ambiguity is part of its strength; I applaud Villaronga for not appeasing viewers by offering insight into Klaus. He’s a monster, and that’s all we need to know.
This is also why I don’t fully share your concerns about who Angelo turns out to be. As oppressed individuals who have confronted assholes who want to debate our sexuality, we’re right to be wary of these potentially dangerous portrayals. In the case of In A Glass Cage, though, there’s no moral lesson being imparted here; that’s why the end of the film is so nebulous. Instead of simply having Angelo fuck with Klaus’ life and murder him (ie: like a traditional rape-revenge), Villaronga opts to have Angelo become Klaus – and Rena, by extension, is seemingly doomed to take on the role of Angelo.
While Angelo is very clearly disturbed and he does incredibly appalling things, I didn’t want this ending for him (or Rena). The fact that we as an audience feel badly for this pair suggests that In A Glass Cage doesn’t condemn Angelo. Instead our sympathies confirm who the film’s true villain is: Klaus. Because of the trauma and pain inflicted by this man, multiple successive generations who have been touched – physically (Angelo) or tangentially (Rena) – are essentially ruined.
Of course, then there’s that final shot, which wraps Angelo and Rena in a snow globe (one final glass cage in a movie full of them). One part Citizen Kane homage and one part crystal ball fantasy, this closing image acts as a kind of reassurance to the audience: “don’t be too alarmed, this is merely a story.” It’s a curious distancing technique from a film that is so content to jam a knife into its audience throughout the rest of the runtime.
Trace, how did you feel about the ending? I also didn’t address the relationship between Rena and Angelo, but I imagine you must have thoughts about it? Also: did you get Corey Feldman Tommy-Jarvis-as-Jason-Voorhees vibes when Rena appears in the doorway with her hair slicked back, looking like a boy? Finally, do you think that Villaronga is critiquing the scopophilia of audiences (a la Funny Games or most of Goddard’s films) with all of the voyeurism/reflective surfaces in the film?
Trace
I’m so glad you mentioned the snow globe! What is it with snow globes as a framing device, anyway? Between this, Michele Soavi’s Cemetery Man and the series finale of St. Elsewhere, I’m perplexed why so many films and shows fix their final shot within a snow globe. It’s an odd connection between these three properties, though each one undeniably serves three very different purposes and, ultimately, meanings given the subject matter and tones of each of them.
I do subscribe to your reading of the snow globe in In a Glass Cage. It’s almost like a shorthand version of the marketing campaign for Wes Craven’s The Last House on the Left (it’s only a movie….it’s only a movie…it’s only a movie….), and after watching all 110 minutes of In a Glass Cage, it’s nice to be reminded of that.
Speaking of The Last House on the Left, I’ve seen some critics compare the film’s moral dilemma to that of rape-revenge films like Last House or I Spit on Your Grave. Those comparisons do make sense, considering the subject matter and the fact that all three films divided critics for a multitude of reasons. The main reason being that we must endure a graphic sequence in which our protagonist is raped, but as I mentioned in our discussion of The Perfection on the podcast, another aspect that raises a few eyebrows is the transformation of our rape victim to vicious murderer. That aspect of the rape-revenge film usually doesn’t bother me (though perhaps it should?), but given that In a Glass Cage takes it one step further by having our protagonist become his rapist and murder innocent young boys, its controversy makes more sense, doesn’t it? I’ll be frank, Joe: I’m still not entirely sure I know how to unpack this!
The ending brings up a whole other set of discussion topics. When we see Rena walking down the hall towards the room with the iron lung, she is shown in silhouette. With her hair tied back, she appears at first to be (as you mentioned) a young boy. Some have argued that it is because Rena is now adopting the role of the son in this twisted little family, with Angelo now adopting the role of the father. It introduces a transgender element to the film, especially if we are to believe that the abuser is always male, as the ending of In a Glass Cage seems to suggest. Obviously, this is not always the case, but giving Rena a masculine physical appearance is intentional.
I myself didn’t get Tommy Jarvis vibes from Rena’s boyish appearance, but that’s only because I don’t think my mind will let me connect a film like In a Glass Cage to films like Friday the 13th 4-6. That being said, I can see where you’d get that comparison from, especially given Tommy’s transformation in the climax of The Final Chapter. I know many fans consider The Final Chapter to be one of the better entries of the Friday the 13th franchise, but it doesn’t exactly have the subtle nuances of a film like In a Glass Cage, does it?
I do applaud your lack of desire to know more about Klaus….to an extent. In film and, specifically, the horror genre, the villain becomes less scary the more you know about them. All too often, digging into the antagonist’s backstory serves as a way to garner sympathy for said antagonist. While that may not always be the case, it almost always makes the villain less interesting. Just look at the wave of horror remakes in the ‘00s like Rob Zombie’s Halloween or Samuel Bayer’s A Nightmare on Elm Street. Both of those films attempted to add a significant layer of backstory for their villains, and it wound up hurting the final product. Sometimes it’s okay to leave the monster ambiguous.
As for the criticisms of scopophilia, I suppose the easiest reading of the film would be: it’s bad. Klaus got off on watching the suffering of young boys. Angelo adopted Klaus’ predilection towards scopophilia after A) being sexually abused by him, B) by watching him like he does in the film’s opening sequence (a sort of double-ended scopophilia, isn’t it?) and C) by reading from his journal and reenacting portions of it. Then we have Rena adopting that pattern by the end of the film. It’s almost treated like a disease, passed down from generation to generation, infecting everything it touches. It’s just one of the many fetishes presented in the film and it never leads to anything good. I don’t fully buy into that theory, as I consider myself sex positive, but I’m finding it difficult to find another reading of this particular subject.
So what is the legacy of In a Glass Cage? Well, that’s still being determined, isn’t it? As we have mentioned already, this is not an easy film to watch. It is not an easy film to understand. It’s also not a film that a lot of people know about. So I’d like to turn this over to our readers: if you have seen the film, what do you make of it? As we have discussed before, what we take away from a film often depends on our own life experiences, so I’m curious to see what other readings people with different backgrounds have of In a Glass Cage.
I’m still not sure what to make of the damn thing.
Next time on Horror Queers: just in time for (self-isolation) Pride, we’re going home for a good old fashioned coming out slasher party with 2016’s Pitchfork. It’s streaming on Amazon Prime or you can rent it on iTunes for $2.99.
Don’t forget to catch up on our previous Horror Queers articles here or check out our podcast page here.