If The Strange World of Coffin Joe is a journey into the depths of the human psyche, then consider it a one-way ticket to a carnival outhouse on fire, with Zé do Caixão himself chuckling behind a smog machine and flipping you off in Portuguese.
Billed as an anthology horror film, this fever dream from Brazil’s resident necrophilia laureate José Mojica Marins is a trilogy of grotesque vignettes loosely strung together by nothing but a narrator in a top hat, a bad attitude, and the smell of formaldehyde-soaked melodrama.
Segment 1: The Dollmaker – Daddy Issues in the Key of Eyeballs
A kindly old man lives with four beautiful daughters who apparently moonlight as erotic crash test dummies. When a group of cartoonishly horny robbers break into their home, things devolve faster than a taxidermy workshop on molly. The girls, after some light resisting, decide the best way to defend themselves is to seduce the attackers by complimenting their eyeballs.
That’s right: eyeballs. These girls look at would-be rapists and say, “Hey baby, I like your retinas.”
Turns out it’s not a defense tactic, but bait. Dad pops up with a gun, plugs the goons, and plucks out their peepers like olives at a funeral tapas bar. And voilà—that’s how you make lifelike dolls. Forget Barbie—this is Build-a-Bear meets Silence of the Lambs.
Segment 2: Obsession – Necrophilia With a Side of Shoe Porn
This middle chapter is a haunting tale of romance, tragedy, and a man who really, really loves feet. Our protagonist is a sad balloon seller who gets friend-zoned by life, but compensated with an Olympic-level foot fetish. He falls in love with a woman he’s never spoken to, watches her get married, and then—plot twist—watches her get murdered faster than you can say “fetish fulfillment.”
Heartbroken but undeterred, he sneaks into her tomb, undresses the corpse, has sex with it, and lovingly places shoes on her dead feet in what is arguably the most disturbing Clarks ad ever made.
Romantic? No. Disturbing? Extremely. Artistic? Only if you consider grave-robbing foreplay.
Segment 3: Theory – Cannibal Philosophy for the Terminally Pretentious
The final act is an absurdist descent into the intellectual septic tank. Coffin Joe—sorry, Oãxiac Odéz (which is just “Zé do Caixão” backward like some goth crossword puzzle)—kidnaps a fellow academic and his wife to prove that instinct will always beat reason.
This proof apparently requires forced starvation, sadistic torture, and a live-action version of the worst TED Talk ever. At one point he performs cannibal rituals with a grin that says, “I own a human-skin beanbag chair and I’m not sorry.”
By the end, you’re left with the message: “Human nature is vile, academia is useless, and if you’re going to get tied up in a basement, make sure your torturer has at least passed Philosophy 101.”
Final Thoughts: From Subversive to Sub-Subpar
The Strange World of Coffin Joe is an acid trip through hell with no seat belts, no morals, and no coherent point beyond “humans are gross.” It’s a parade of taboos wrapped in a trench coat and narrated by a man who looks like he sleeps in a mausoleum and smells like embalming fluid and unfiltered cigarettes.
The themes? Misogyny disguised as allegory, necrophilia disguised as romance, and sadism disguised as intellectual inquiry. It’s like The Twilight Zone if Rod Serling hated women, logic, and the audience.
One star. Would not recommend unless you’re writing a thesis titled “The Misuse of Eyeballs and Corpses in Mid-Century South American Cinema.”
Or if you’re into feet. Then, well… this might be your Citizen Kane.
