The first horror movie I ever watched was Creepshow. I was only around ten when I saw it (my parents did not know what I was watching) and was terrified out of my mind. The impact Creepshow had on me throughout the years has given me a long, yet unearned love for the horror anthology. I say ‘unearned’ because in truth the horror anthology genre is full of films that are, to put it plainly, not good. Most horror anthology films often rely too much on camp or vary too drastically in quality between entries. Plus, there is the added pressure of having to tie a bunch of separate stories together into one package. But buried within this genre of disappointment lies a few outliers, one of the best of which is 2004’s Three… Extremes.

Three… Extremes actually is a sequel to the lesser known 2002 horror anthology Three, which was later rereleased to Western audiences as Three… Extremes 2. The premise behind the short-lived “Three” franchise was simple: take three directors from different Asian countries and ask each to make a 40-minute horror film, with the “extreme” in the title referring to the inclusion of mature boundary pushing content found in Asian extreme cinema. The films would then be released together as a set without the need for tie-ins or a wrap-around story that imposes a false sense of continuity onto individual stories. For Three Extremes, the directors who agreed included a particularly interesting group of auteurs during high points in their careers.

The first offering is from Hong Kong director Fruit Chan, who re-edited his already completed full-length feature film Dumplings (released in the same year) to fit the 40-minute format. As it turns out, this shorter version of the story really works. I have never seen the 90 minute cut of Dumplings, which people say is also quite good, I can’t think up reason to because the cut Chan made for Three…Extremes, which was also the most critically praised segment, is perfection. The story revolves around a former actress who ends up at the door of a local chef in the hopes of restoring her youth. The film wastes no time showing you what is in the dumplings and this makes up the bulk the film’s extreme content. Actress Bai Ling stands out in her performance as Aunt Mei, a lower-class witch-like hustler who delights in providing people with her special treats. The horror in Dumplings is mostly subtle and situational, with a dash of visual spectacle. It also makes daring critiques of China’s former one child policy and its history of male privilege. Dumplings is also filmed with a realism that sets it apart from the other two anthology entries, and truthfully, on second viewing it was easily my favourite segment.

Korean legend Park Chan-wook directs the film’s second installment, Cut. (As an aside for those interested in Chan-wook’s work, I should mention that this installment is the first project he completed after the successful release of his internationally praised cult-classic Oldboy.) Cut is essentially a home invasion story with several unique twists, as the setting is technically not a home and the invader has been provided very original motives for his perpetration. Of the three entries, Cut is the steadiest paced, continuously ratcheting tension in a way that Western audiences would welcome. Unlike Dumplings, there is no subtlety to the horror on display or the graphic nature of the violence. Where viewers rank this installment will ultimately depend on their acceptance of the film’s aggressive style and its surprise ending.

The last “extreme” comes from Japan’s art-house auteur Takashi Miike who directs Box, which is the anthology’s most surreal installment. When, I first viewed Box many years back, it was my least favourite entry. Today, I am much less sure. The Lynchian dream-logic in Box easily makes it easily the least accessible entry, but also the most re-watchable as it rewards on repeat viewing. And unlike many surreal films of its kind, this one does make sense as long as you remember that most of this film is actually someone’s recurring nightmare. The film’s imagery is poetic and it uses devices found in a most ghost stories for metaphorical purposes. But the real horror of this film comes when we learn more about our dreamer. Miike is a master of taboo breaking, but he does not go to the same intentionally appalling lengths here as he does in films like Audition, Gozu, or Visitor Q. In fact, Box actually feels personal and intimate in tone, like you have actually penetrated somebody’s mind. With his 40 minutes, Miike’s film provides the most to digest and is one of the most uniquely daring entries ever put in an anthology of this kind.   

Three… Extremes came out a time when Asian Extreme cinema was garnering attention from Western audiences. In retrospect, the film does not encapsulate the state of Asian Extreme Cinema at the time as well as it highlights the distinct creativity of three very different, and very influential, filmmakers. None of the films in Three… Extremes are the same and it is a wonder how they ended up in the same anthology. You never get the sense, as you might with other anthologies, that some studio executive muted any of these director’s visions to help make the final package more streamlined and comprehensive. Yet the anthology still feels like a comprehensive whole and its magic comes from how unique each entry truly is.  In every anthology, it is inevitably for people to rank the segments, but in this anthology, the entries do not feel like they are competing with each other as much as existing to be valued on their own individual merits. In my opinion, Three…Extremes  should act as the template for more horror film anthologies, as it gives us a chance to sample great directors when their only restraint is a shortened run-time.