Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on May 11, 2006, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
Sometimes when a horror movie is restored for DVD, with graphic violence previously trimmed for censorious or ratings reasons put back in, the film gains new visceral and/or emotional power as a result. And sometimes it’s just…gorier. Funny Man, a British comedy/shocker originally released to U.S. VHS in 1996 and on bare-bones DVD in 2001 by Arrow Entertainment, was shorn of quite a bit of its outrageous grue in both those editions. But now it has all been reinstated by Subversive Cinema, from the title villain clawing his way through a victim’s torso to a Velma-from-Scooby-Doo lookalike having her brain, eyes and glasses whacked out of the front of her head.
That last description gives an idea of the film’s jocular approach to the genre, though even with the extra splatter, it’s more funny peculiar than funny ha-ha. Though the overstated bloodshed is good for a few gross giggles, it has little true impact, since the people who suffer it are a bunch of annoying gits. The movie’s sympathies are clearly on the side of the title imp (Tim James), a murderous, wisecracking jester from hell who goes Freddy Krueger one better by breaking the fourth wall and delivering some of his bon mots to the audience. As he cavorts through an ancient British mansion, bumping off the family of music producer Max (Benny Young), who has inherited the place, and a bunch of Max’s pals, writer/director Simon Sprackling seems more concerned with showcasing the Funny Man’s antics than developing any rooting interest in his human targets. James’ “cheeky and cruel” clowning has its moments, but a little of it goes a long way, especially since we never learn much about the Funny Man, his origins or his agenda. There’s a randomness to the whole thing that works against viewer engagement.
It wasn’t always that way, though; via the DVD’s supplements, we learn that Sprackling initially conceived the Funny Man and his exploits with more seriousness in mind, until James began lending a comic edge to the part and the filmmaker decided to roll with it. The extras are many and varied—when the amusing and elaborate menu navigation takes you to the Special Features screen, the Funny Man says, “Well, you get your fucking money’s worth, don’t you?” and he’s right. One of the most welcome bonuses is the half-hour original short version, with different actors in the roles played in the feature by Young and (briefly) Christopher Lee. Seeing similar action played with a straighter and more atmospherically creepy face makes for an interesting contrast with the jokey, gaudy longer version.
In their audio commentary, Sprackling and James are less concerned with screen-specificity than with chronicling the evolution of Funny Man from that short to the full-length movie. James demonstrates the same kind of nudge-nudge wink-wink sense of humor as his onscreen role, and he and Sprackling have a high old time recounting their behind-the-scenes travails and triumphs. Along the way, we’re informed about how Lee and the other cast got involved (and how Hugh Grant didn’t), the debates over killing a child on screen in the wake of the sensationalized Jamie Bulger murder and their good fortune in being able to shoot on the Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein sets—with their luck almost running out when their pyrotechnics nearly burned the sets down.
We get to see a bit of this almost-disaster in an entertaining making-of piece called Sorting “Funnyman”, comprised largely of vintage on-the-set and interview material. A couple of the stories told here somewhat contradict the commentary, while among the highlights are James, in full costume and prosthetic makeup, harassing assorted cast and crew members and murdering an innocent beer can. Everyone on set seems pretty chipper and has a good sense of humor about the severe financial restrictions; “The great thing about [dispensing] a budget when there is no budget,” says production manager Vicki Harvey-Piper, “is that the answer’s pretty much always no.”
The package is rounded out with trailers for both versions of the movie, outtakes, a brief Lee interview (snippets of which also appear in the documentary) and a music video, which includes footage of the Funny Man and Lee at the Cannes Film Festival! Subversive’s 1.85:1 transfer reproduces the intentionally “off” color schemes with sufficient stability and sharpness, and the 2.0 stereo sound is sharp and clear. The icing on the cake is a photo-illustrated 12-page booklet containing Sprackling’s production diary, which is a delight to read. You may not laugh a lot at Funny Man, but the filmmaker’s written and spoken stories guarantee you’ll laugh along with its creator.
