It would be easy to look at Nekromantik solely in the context of post-industrial ennui, Cold War alienation, and cinematic voyeurism, but the Nazi imagery, blankly modern exteriors, and self-referential film-within-a-film are employed subtly enough that they don't overwhelm the movie's desire to simply thrill you by giving literal form to everyone's most primordial fears. When you finally do get an over-the-top sexual set piece, it's used to depict the climax of a spiritual quest as well as the other, more prurient kind of climax in their wildest imaginations, the Farrelly brothers could never come up with a sight gag so vile, yet so rich in meaning.
Here and elsewhere, lead actor Daktari Lorenz provides simple yet hauntingly evocative piano and synth melodies to lend impossible romance to the gruesome images. The most interesting scenes are the flashback/dream sequences, which use skillful editing to derive myriad meanings from the same collection of bunny-scalping shots.
You recoil not because of any porn-derived money shots (the necrophilia is presented in arty, psychedelic montages), but because the very presence of the corpse violates the primordial taboo that separates the horror of decay from the banality of everyday life. The film's explicit mixture of sexual and graveyard imagery is revolting precisely because it isn't couched in creature-feature clichés. Cheap, yet disturbing gore and copious nudity have enlivened many a low-budget horror extravaganza, but despite the extreme imagery on display, director/co-writer Jorg Buttgereit is after something closer to real life here. A sick art school joke that combines elements of Taxi Zum Klo, Night of the Living Dead, and Wuthering Heights into a queasily entertaining and thought-provoking whole, Nekromantik manages to have it every which way at once: exploitative outrage, sly humor, and, underneath it all, philosophical depth.
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