As the overture of Belinda Sallin's film recounts it, approaching the late H.R. Giger's woods-ensconced Zurich home felt a little like going upriver in Apocalypse Now, on account of the jungly enclosure, and the many skulls, and the general aura of derangement. But of course the main Giger movie association will always be Alien. Talking-head consensus seems to be that Giger's work tapped into the otherwise unremembered trauma of the perinatal journey; all he really knew was that in general he put his exquisitely creepy visions on canvas to keep them from freaking him out.
415-777-3456
