In Fabric is the latest film from Peter Strickland, and depending on what you’ve seen of his before, you might think you know what to expect. I adored Berberian Sound Studio, and expected something atmospheric and goosepimply when I booked for In Fabric. But I was very surprised to find myself laughing as much as I did (“horror comedy” is usually too daft or ludicrous for my taste); and even more surprisingly, I knew I wanted a copy to keep even before the opening credits had started.
Forget Mannequin: you won’t see shop dummies in any other film like those in In Fabric. This isn’t a serious drama like Phantom Thread, nor a garish horror like Chopping Mall. As a cinematic experience (rather than a film) set in a department store, In Fabric is unique.
In Fabric is essentially an anthology film with two rough stories linked together by a red dress. This slinky dress is bought by Sheila (Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Secrets and Lies, Without a Trace) for a blind date with “Adonis”. She later finds out that the woman who modelled it for the Dentley & Soper catalogue had a mysterious demise; but not before odd, clothing-related incidents start occurring to her. The second story wraps around a young washing machine engineer (Leo Bill) and his fiancée (Hayley Squires, I, Daniel Blake), each of whom are more self-absorbed and self-unaware than they realise.
Sheila, Reg and Babs are all interesting and beautifully drawn characters, each of them presenting their own fragile attempts at confidence. The dress gives them a boost, one by one, manipulating them too; though we can only guess at an agenda. Explanations are sketchy in In Fabric, but that’s fine: this isn’t a story in which everything is spelled out, but rather leaves plenty to keep the audience wondering.
As well as the dress which moves between these people, the stories are also linked by a number of secondary (I couldn’t say “minor”) characters. Steve Oram and Julian Barratt play two fabulously charming bank managers; comic and flirtatious like a League of Gentlemen pair, but without their harshness. Most memorable of all, though, are the sales ladies at the department store: Miss Lullworth (Susanna Cappellaro) and Miss Luckmoore (Fatma Mohamed), who call to mind Anjelica Huston from The Witches, but with the prudish seductiveness of a Hammer horror victim, and who speak in nothing but advertisement soundbites.
Dimensions and proportions transcend the prisms of our measurements.
In Fabric does not come with any pretention of an anti-capitalist message or warning: it is simply an entertaining story about the way an object’s past comes with it. It was inspired by charity shop merchandise: Strickland simply found himself wondering about the people who passed on items of clothing, or left them behind. Some, surely, come with a colourful history. There is plenty of food for thought, and just as much to captivate, enthral and amuse.
The cinematography is sharp, precise and careful; though playful at times too. (Sorry I may be about to start gushing.) My favourite images were the few using mirrors: the dress alone didn’t envelope Sheila, but the audience’s eyes could from every angle too. The film seemed full to bursting with rich colours; Giallo reds and neon yellows. Not entirely full, mind you: the narrative was cut at times with snippets of advertisements, magazine style, and also hypnotic (reminding me of Halloween 3).
In Fabric is set in the nineties yet with a comfortably retro feel like we are revisiting old Argento films or Tales of the Unexpected. Yet it has a sparkling modern polish on top of its old-fashioned strangeness… which brings me to the soundtrack. To be perfectly honest, I’ve been trying to write this article for a couple of weeks: sometimes I’ve been stuck for words, but other times, when I think of In Fabric, all I have in my head is the music by Cavern of Anti-Matter. They provide atmospheric soundscapes as well as throbbing electronic dance tunes and twinkling moments of nostalgia. I think it was the blend of music and eye-catching imagery that had me wanting to buy a copy of the film to keep even before the opening credits finished.
I won’t deny the film is strange: of course it’s weird, but in a carefree sod-the-lot-of-you kind of way. I don’t think I’ve ever read “scene of aberrant behaviour” in the IMDB parental warnings before. There are bizarre moments, and perverse moments; beautiful moments and riotously funny ones. This is a film for anyone who ever had Pearl and Dean fantasies. I was a child of the seventies, grew up through the nineties, and I loved it.
In Fabric isn’t flawless: though the only real issue is its length. It’s unusual to find an anthology film with only two main stories in it, and it felt as though there could be scope for much more. But it is two hours long: would we want it longer? It has been suggested that a sequel would be welcomed, or even a short series, but I don’t know. I’d hate to find that watching more of a film like this got me tired of it; if I buy a beautiful dress, I don’t let myself wear it all the time.
I’ll happily play the soundtrack every day though.
