Posts Tagged ‘Horror’


Hunchback of the Morgue

May 19th, 2012 | article by | No Comments »
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a.k.a. El Jorobado de la Morgue
directed by
 Javier Aguirre

1973 / Eva Film / 79
written by Paul Naschy, Javier Aguirre and Alberto S. Insúa
cinematography by Raúl Pérez Cubero
starring Paul Naschy, Maria Perschy, Rosanna Yanni, Alberto Dalbés, Victor Alcázar, María Elena Arpón, and Ángel Menéndez

The picturesque Bavarian mountain town of Feldkirch has everything a movie town needs: a surprisingly big hospital, a system of catacombs that has been used by the Templars and the Inquisition, and a reform school for young women. It would probably be a fantastic place to live in, watching shower scenes and listening to Wagner all day, if not for the fact that basically everyone in town is a mean, mad bastard in one way or the other.

Hard-working, not particularly clever, hunchbacked, ugly (at least that’s what everyone says: Naschy isn’t wearing any “ugly” make-up, looking just like he does in other movies where he’s supposed to be a handsome lady killer) morgue assistant Gotho (Paul Naschy) is the favourite victim of everyone in town. His daily routine seems to consist of being insulted, slapped around, and made fun of, his only recourse being a mad expression when he cuts corpses into parts (which is something you do in this particular hospital morgue). The only one treating Gotho like an actual human being is Ilse (María Elena Arpón), but the girl is lying on her death bed with a lung disease (must be consumption), and all the flowers the really rather sweet Gotho can bring her won’t keep her alive.

When Ilse dies, Gotho cracks. The mild-mannered man turns a bit murderous, first killing two other morgue assistants who are trying to rob his dead sweetheart with a conveniently placed hatchet, then dragging Ilse’s corpse down into the catacombs hoping she’ll awaken one day. Afterwards, it’s off to another revenge murder.

And that’s how things could continue for Gotho, if not for the resident mad scientist, a certain Dr. Orla (Alberto Dalbés). With the help of his assistant Dr. Tauchner (Victor Alcázar), and Tauchner’s girlfriend the reform school head (I think) Dr. Meyer (Maria Perschy) Orla is trying to create artificial life, but Orla’s total lack of scruples and his need for fresh body parts cost him the co-operation of the hospital.

 
 
 

So it’s pretty much like Christmas and his birthday falling on the same day for Orla once he realizes where Gotho is hiding. The catacombs will make a fine laboratory for the secret continuation of his experiments, and Gotho is easily swayed to help with acquiring body parts once Orla has promised him to revive Ilse. Soon enough, Gotho’s new duties will involve grave robbery, murder and the kidnapping of fresh girls from the reform school (for Orla’s experiment turns from a mass of cells into a hungry monster); the only hobby they leave room for is kissing the feet of reform school co-head Elke (Rossanna Yanni) and getting romanced by her in return.

Of course, things can’t stay this paradisiac forever, and Gotho will have a violent discussion with Orla’s monster (which just happens to look like the Oily Maniac) soon enough.

Even for something taking place on Planet Naschy (the great man of Spanish horror cinema course being co-responsible for the film’s script as well as playing the male lead), where the bizarre is actually the quotidian, El Jorobado is a pretty wild concoction. Where else, after all, would a story about a mistreated hunchback with certain necrophiliac tendencies taking vengeance on his tormentors be just too normal not to need an infusion of a gorier variation of the classic mad scientist story at about the half-way mark? I am, of course, not complaining about this broadening of the narrative (such as it is) for it’s exactly things like this that give most of Naschy’s films their charm and their weird energy.

That energy comes especially to the fore here, in a film that eschews the usually languid pacing of many of Naschy’s scripts for something much snappier. Which isn’t to say the script doesn’t have many of the usual flaws in a Naschy film, namely, that most characters act like complete idiots (would you believe it’s a bad idea to tell the mad scientist your plan to out him to the police?), and that some of the connective tissues one is used to from a professionally written movie are missing, so it’s always a possibility the film’s not going to show an important development at all but prefer to just talk through it later on; possibly for budgetary reasons, possibly because Naschy hated proper transitions. If one wants to enjoy El Jorobado - or most of Naschy’s other movies – one has to accept that things don’t work in quite the same ways on Planet Naschy as they do in our world or in the movies in our world.

 
 
 

On the other hand, it’s difficult to imagine a more “normally” structured film having the time for all the small digressions and suggestions of various kinks El Jorobado has – some torture, a random whipping, the quite clearly suggested necrophilia, the fem dom whiff of Gotho’s feet kissing or just the suspicion that Elke falls in love with Gotho because she’s into men with physical disabilities for the disabilities’ sake and not the men’s, or else really has a thing for guys who kiss her feet for little reason; it’d probably make for an awesome porno.

This being a horror movie instead of pornography, though, the film is much more interested in crude yet entertaining gore effects, most of which ooze a classic carnival charm I found myself unable to resist. The only problematic scene in this regard is when Naschy fights some rats who are nibbling on Ilse’s corpse. At first, they “jump” (that is, are thrown at him with great force) our hero – the sort of thing that’s always good for a laugh, but then, we’re attacked by pictures of actual rats being burned alive with a torch. Like all real animal violence in the movies, that’s just completely out of ethical bounds for me, and makes it difficult to still call the film’s fake violence “good-natured” and “silly” as I else would have had.

Nearly a thousand words in, I still haven’t mentioned El Jorobado‘s director Javier Aguirre. That’s because there really isn’t much to his direction. Despite the moody assistance of an awesome mountain village, a spooky ruin, and some fine catacombs, Aguirre’s direction just doesn’t do anything memorable at all, certainly nothing even vaguely comparable to the weirdness of the script. On the other hand, Aguirre is also not doing anything that’s actively bad, so it’s difficult to criticize him for anything but being not as crazy as the script he’s working with and shooting it like a straight little horror movie.

If you’re willing to ignore the fate of those poor rats, El Jorobado De La Morgue is a perfectly entertaining piece of Naschy craziness, containing everything I love and hate about the man’s work, plus (at least in the Spanish language version) a small nod towards the Necronomicon that will make all co-Lovecraftians happy, too.


The Horror!? is a regular cult cinema column by Denis Klotz, aficionado of the obscure and operator of the film blog of the same name.



Santo vs. Las Lobas

May 11th, 2012 | article by | 2 Comments »
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a.k.a. Santos vs. the She-Wolves
directed by
 Rubén Galindo and Jaime Jiménez Pons

1976 / Producciones Jiménez Pons Hermanos / 86
written by Jaime Jiménez Pons and Ramón Obón
cinematography by Raul Dominguez and Victor Gaitán
starring El Santo, Rodolfo de Anda, Gloria Mayo, Jorge Russek, Bubia Martí, Carlos Suárez

This May the agents of M.O.S.S. throw their collective gaze (warning: may turn living matter to stone) toward everything hairy and beastly: King Kong, Feroz Khan’s chest and more. To stay up to date on our exploits regarding the matter, you can just follow this handy link.

Before you do that, though, it’s time for me to tell you about the awe-inspiring fight between (the decidedly waxed) El Santo and a band of lycanthropes (decidedly hairy).

Santo’s (El Santo!) sweet life of wrestling fools in the ring and getting kissed by the White Wolf Queen of the lycanthropes (something that will not be important later on) is rudely interrupted by a sleazy private eye who tells our hero some random stuff about lycanthropy and hands him an envelope containing a meeting place with a certain Cesar Harker (Rodolfo de Anda), werewolf hunter. Santo, after having fought every supernatural creature you’d care to name, and some others too, is still the great sceptic, poo-pooing the whole lycanthropy idea and shrugging that strange visit off. One imagines Santo gets visits like that so often he has learned to be choosy whom to believe.

His opinion changes when our sceptical hero is repeatedly attacked by a pack of dogs with the awesome abilities to a) make the great El Santo very very afraid, and b) to disappear into thin air. Clearly, something supernatural is going on here, so the luchador decides that meeting up with Cesar will be just the thing to do.

At their very leisurely meeting (it’s still the 70s) Cesar explains to Santo that the Harkers have a long tradition of werewolf hunting, helped by their freakish immunity to the curse of lycanthropy; quite unlike Santo, who will – thanks to his “dog” bites – have to do something against the lycanthropy problem or turn into a lycanthrope himself before the next Great Red Moon (whatever that is) rises. Fortunately, there’s an old prophecy foretelling either the end of the world through a lycanthropocalypse or the end to the hairy menace by the hand of a legend or symbol of silver. That latter symbol, Cesar is pretty sure, would be Santo.

 
 
 

Practically, Cesar knows the lycanthropes are based quite close to the small village (still with its own doctor and chief of police) he and his family are living in, so he invites Santo to his home. After dispatching of one of the incredibly ineffective lycanthrope assassins who seem to hound Cesar’s every step (a random flashback shows he can’t even play a relaxing round of golf without being attacked), Santo agrees. But being the responsible chap that he is, the luchador is first going to fulfil his contractual obligations and have a wrestling match; he’ll be with Cesar a bit later. After all, possibly turning into a wolf person in the near future is no reason for the idol of the masses to not show up to a fight. My protestant work ethic is ecstatic.

The situation will be quite changed once Santo arrives in Cesar’s home village, though. The werewolf hunter and the White Queen have killed each other off, leaving behind some very angry lycanthropes in need of a new queen, Cesar’s twin brother Eric (Rodolfo de Anda without glasses), and various women and children who will soon enough be in peril. I’m sure there’s nothing untoward in the crate that arrives from Transylvania the same night Santo does, like, for example, the King of Lycanthropes Licar.

The whole affair could become too much even for a hero like Santo, but Eric, a bare-chested (again a waxed one) vest-wearer named Gitano (Carlos Suárez looking like a man who has a lot of fun here), and various armed villagers (when they’re not trying to kill Santo for no reason I managed to discern) are there to pinch in.

One of the real joys of lucha cinema is the adaptability of the genre. As long as he stays a hero, a lucha movie doesn’t need to interpret its central character as a standard masked crimefighter alone, unlike – for example – US superhero films do, leaving the door wide open for genre hopping of a kind that makes lucha movies surprisingly adaptable.

As is so often the case in the genre, the movies of the great El Santo are a prime example of this. Santo starred in Universal-inspired classic horror films, 60s spy movies, adventure films, unfunny comedies, pulp-y crime films, rancheros and inexplicably weird stuff. Basically, Santo starred in everything except romantic comedies (unless you’re a fan of the Santo/Blue theory) and melodrama (though there are of course lucha melodramas without Santo), turning every other genre into sub-genres of the great equalizer that is lucha cinema.

 
 
 

By the time Santo shot Santo vs. Los Lobas, the lucha genre had lost much of its popularity, leaving the tenacious wrestler pretty much in the cinematic dregs, seeing him work for producers churning out very silly, often surprisingly boring movies, on budgets that could probably not always buy shoe-strings for everyone. So it comes as a bit of a surprise – even more of it when you add Santo’s generally family-oriented image – that Las Lobas is a lucha entry into the genre of somewhat bleak, very dream-like 70s horror that does actually set out to be a real movie instead of random reels of Santo, musical numbers, and travelogue footage. Las Lobas also turns out to be one of the weirdest entries in Santo’s filmography not produced by Vergara.

What’s probably even more surprising is how well this attempt works, with directors Rubén Galindo (last seen here letting Santo fight against garbage bags) and Jaime Jiménez Pons creating an often nightmarish, always illogical, mood out of cramped looking shots taking turns with strange, yet strangely compelling compositions, a gritty looking aesthetic that’s always rubbing against the weirdness of the plot and ideas, effectively dim lighting, and editing whose rawness emphasises the strangeness of it all by roughing up the film’s flow. I’m not sure Galindo and Pons were planning to make their film quite as strange as it feels, and that its technical peculiarities weren’t just based on a mix of budgetary troubles and ineptness on their side, but it’s the results that count, and the results are, as my American brethren like to say, awesome.

Among the things about Las Lobas that may be clever or may be just accidents is the film’s tendency to make Santo a bit more human and fallible than he often is: he’s fleeing from his early dog attackers in a very undignified way (what is it with Galindo and letting Santo high-tail it?), actually needs the help of others, and even loses fights without being tricked into losing them. One might think this time around our hero’s actually in danger, which is – of course – a pretty clever thing to find in a horror movie.

But really, it’s the mood of the film that makes it as special as it is. It’s one of those films where the strangeness of the pictures – lycanthropes who look like bearded ladies in fur bikinis carrying torches standing in a circle around their queen, the White Queen laughing a threatening laugh from the roof of a building, a party with circle dancing turning into a minor lycanthrope massacre – and the peculiarities of the script – a main character dying only to be replaced by a twin who is exactly like he was, the character who is built up as the Big Bad dying quite early leaving plot threads and an ancient prophecy dangling, the rules of lycanthropy changing with every second scene, connections between characters never really getting explained – really come together to form something like a fever dream through which the audience drifts; it’s just that this fever dream has a masked wrestler in it, too. And, as a wise man once said, everything’s better with a masked wrestler.


The Horror!? is a regular cult cinema column by Denis Klotz, aficionado of the obscure and operator of the film blog of the same name.



A Demonic Lamberto Bava Double Feature

May 6th, 2012 | article by | 4 Comments »
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released April 30th, 2012 by Arrow Video
video: 1080p / 1.66:1 / Color / Mpeg-4 AVC
audio: 16-bit LPCM 2.0 Mono (English, Italian)
subtitles: English SDH, English
discs: 2 x single layer BD25 / Region B (locked)
supplements: Commentaries with director Lamberto Bava, SPFX artist Sergio Stivaleti and journalist Loris Curci on both films, Commentary with Bava, Stivaleti, star Geretta Geretta and composer Claudio Simonetti (on Demons only), five new featurettes (Dario’s Demonic Days, Defining an Era in Music, Creating Creature Carnage, Luigi Cozzi’s Top Italian Terrors and Bava to Bava), and liner notes by Calum Waddell
The
Demons limited edition 2-disc Blu-ray Steelbook contains both Demons and Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns, and is available through Amazon UK.

It’s nigh impossible to overstate the massive cult potential represented by Demons and Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns, a pair of shameless horror-pop wet dreams that oozed their way onto mid-80s cinema screens courtesy of executive producer Dario Argento and director Lamberto Bava. The first is a deserved fan favorite, an irresistible and endlessly exploitable blend of excessive prosthetic gore and macho action motifs set to a pounding hard rock score featuring the likes of Billy Idol, Motley Crue, Saxon, and Go West. The second never reaches the same dizzying heights of genre excess, but keeps the entertainment level high with its pre-REC premise (an apartment building infested with devilish evil) and boundless schlock appeal. Slick and stylish and remarkably stupid, these are bloody brain-off escapism of the highest possible order. I love them both, and make no excuses for it.

That said, it should be no surprise that I’ve been following news of Arrow Video’s high definition treatments with the utmost anticipation, hoping against all hope that a label best known for top-flight packaging and a lamentable penchant for dropping the ball with regards to quality control would be capable of giving the Demons films the respect I felt they deserved. I received the label’s limited edition Steelbook (which combines both films in one glossy and blessedly flair-impaired package) just yesterday, and have been eagerly devouring its contents ever since. While my overall opinion of the release is quite positive – this is undeniably the best these films have ever looked on video – I was none-the-less frustrated to see Arrow fall so predictably short on the technical front. But we’ll get to that in a moment.

For now, the good stuff! While the vast majority of high definition Italian genre masters have been handled by the problematc LVR in Rome, Arrow Video have gone out of their way to see that the transfers for Demons and Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns were done properly. With no suitable HD materials available new from-the-negative restorations of both films were undertaken by the esteemed Cineteca Bologna in collaboration with L’Immagine Ritrovata, and the results are as good as could ever have been hoped for.

Demons features light black levels, but is otherwise a faultless effort. The 1080p transfer presents the film at its intended theatrical ratio of 1.66:1, and the overall quality of the thing is impossibly crisp and impossibly clean in comparison to what’s come before. Detail is very strong where Gianlorenzo Battaglia’s moody photography allows, and Sergio Stivaletti’s close-up effects takes look exceptional. Colors are vibrant, brightness is at the appropriate levels (whites run dreadfully hot in many of the LVR transfers), and, as can be too rarely said of Italian genre cinema in HD, there’s a fine legitimate film texture underlying the image. Damage is minimal both here and in Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns, though the latter begins with a disclaimer – a handful of takes in the film present with a conspicuous judder that’s baked right into the original negative, and was impossible to satisfactorily resolve digitally. Otherwise Demons 2 is similarly flawless, with the benefit of tighter black levels all around. I only wish that was the end of the story…

Hints of just what’s wrong with Arrow Video’s Blu-rays of Demons and Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns begin with the disc specs themselves (these are both single layer treatments), but even that can’t explain the depth of what’s wrong here. The sad fact of the matter is that no label mangles their properties at the authoring level so regularly, so willfully, as Arrow Video does. They dependably do less with acceptable average bitrates than I’d have thought possible, and unfortunately the average bitrates here are a sight lower than that. Demons fairs the best overall, though its video stream only occupies a distinctly low 12.2 GB on disc. The 89 minute feature is Mpeg-4 AVC encoded at a middling average video bitrate of 18.0 Mbps, and compression artifacts are plentiful. The milky blacks regularly split into swaths of blocking, and the integrity of the film texture is compromised throughout. The 91 minute Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns goes lower still, receiving an Mpeg-4 AVC encode at an average video bitrate of just 15.6 Mbps, and its compression problems are more prevalent for the trouble. While I didn’t feel that either film looked especially bad in motion (even as poorly encoded as they are, these transfers can look very strong), the encode issues were still obvious enough in playback to trip my irate critical triggers – looking at the image up close is as disappointing an experience as I’ve had in a while. At the prices Arrow is currently demanding for these discs (around $40 for this Steelbook edition and ~$27 each for the individual releases through their storefront) this is just unacceptable.

Audio will be a sticking point for some. The English dub track provided for Demons is, interestingly enough, the same that graced the film’s American release, which features different use of some musical cues and sound effects as well as a few altered lines (the majority of the dubbed dialogue is the same as that head in the more common European dub). More important for many is the fact that the track is monophonic only, which substantially limits the audible scope of a film originally released Dolby stereo. The English track is encoded well however, in lossless 16-bit LPCM, and though flatter than I’d have preferred it still sounds pretty good. Otherwise Arrow have included the original Italian audio in 2.0 stereo, and the difference in both fullness and overall fidelity is considerable (flipping between the two with headphones was revelatory). Again presented in lossless 16-bit LPCM, the Italian audio sounds very robust, particularly during the various rock numbers. Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns sounds to be monophonic on both fronts (at least to these ears – I noted no separation in my headphone tests of either track), and the lossless 16-bit LPCM English and Italian tracks are less disparate than on Demons. The English dub sounds less crisp, unnaturally bass-heavy and perhaps even a bit compressed, while the Italian sounds better refined all around. Arrow offers English (for the Italian track) and English SDH (for the English track) subtitles for both films, and will hear no complaints on that front from me.

Supplements are of Arrow’s usual variety, if not quite up to the quantity that have graced some of their other efforts. Demons arrives with two feature commentaries, one with director Lamberto Bava, effects man Sergio Stivaletti, and journalist Loris Curci, and another with Bava, Stivaletti, composer Claudio Simonetti, and star Geretta Geretta. The disc also comes with three new featurettes: Splatter Spaghetti Style – Luigi Cozzi’s Top Italian Terrors (11 minutes, HD), Defining an Era in Music – Claudio Simonetti on Demons (9 minutes, SD), and Dario’s Demon Days – Dario Argento Remembers Demons (10 minutes, HD). Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns receives another commentary, with Bava, Stivaletti, and Curci, as well as two new featurettes: Bava to Bava – A History of Italian Horror with Luigi Cozzi (16 minutes, SD) and Creating Creature Carnage with Stivaletti (20 minutes, SD). The limited edition Steelbook eschews many of the paper extras that are to be included with the individual releases (which are currently delayed due to printing troubles), but does come with a short booklet of notes by Calum Waddell. The individual LE releases will include a fold-out poster, the usual multiple cover options, as well as parts one and two of a newly produced Demons 3 comic.

The Blu-ray debuts of Demons and Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns have a lot of potential, far more than Arrow have typically allowed, but it’s a shame they’ve been bogged down by technical issues that might so easily have been remedied. I didn’t pay anywhere near retail for this limited edition release (hooray gift certificates!), and no more than I’m out of pocket I can live with the limitations, but the high asking price makes for a tough overall recommendation. If you can overlook the persistent compression troubles then there really is a lot to love here, and I think that’s as close to a recommendation as I’m going to get.

Demons intermission card

Judder in Demons 2

Demons

Demons 2: The Nightmare Returns

Screenshots were captured as full resolution .png in Totem Movie Player, then compressed to .jpg at a quality setting of 97% using the ImageMagick command line tool.



Murder Obsession

April 26th, 2012 | article by | 1 Comment »
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dir. Riccardo Freda
1981 / Dionysio Cinematografica / 97′
written by Riccardo Freda, Antonio Cesare Corti, Simon Mizrahi, and Fabio Piccioni
director of photography Christiano Pogany
original music by Franco Mannino
starring Stefano Patrizi, Martine Brochard, Henri Garcin, Laura Gemser, John Richardson, Anita Strindberg, Silvia Dionisio, and Frabrizio Maroni
Murder Obsession is out on Blu-ray (reviewed here) and DVD from Raro Video USA, and is available through Amazon.com or Raro Video directly.

Co-produced by Italy and France as a means of cashing in on the popularity of the burgeoning American slasher, esteemed director Riccardo Freda’s last stand (he would be fired from his only subsequent directing job) is ultimately far, far stranger than its body count pedigree might suggest. A horror in the broadest since of the word, Murder Obsession bucks categorization by synthesizing practically every familiar genre motif imaginable into an unwieldy and confoundedly contrived cine-monstrosity that must be seen to be believed.

The plot, such as it can be described, concerns young actor Michael, who as a child murdered his famed conductor father after witnessing him beating his mother. Ostensibly cured of the violent impulses that drove him to kill, Michael grows into a seemingly normal human being and a successful film actor to boot. But when one of his roles calls for him to strangle his co-star he takes the stunt too far, nearly killing the poor woman instead. After the incident Michael begins to wonder whether his compulsion to kill has been cured or not, and finds himself compelled to visit his ailing mother and the family mansion where the original murder took place. His girlfriend and a few close friends join him for the trip, expecting a bit of deep-country high-life fun, and who can blame them – what could possibly go wrong on a vacation to the isolated Gothic family mansion of an admitted ex-murderer?

Dramatically Murder Obsession is only so interesting as its dull protagonist, a decidedly vacant Stefano Patrizi (The Cassandra Crossing), and its similarly disinterested writing (credited to four screenwriters, including director Freda himself) allows. This is slow, dry going for the first half hour or so, with no effort at all put into ratcheting suspense from the dynamite situation. With Michael appearing so indifferent about his own potential insanity and non-threatening besides, it’s difficult for the audience to buy him as anything but the film’s most obvious red-herring. His lack of conversational manners is amusing, at least – “In case you hadn’t heard, I killed my dad,” he blandly interjects at one point. The rest of the cast fair about as well, both in performance and scripting, from Sylvia Dionisio (Blood for Dracula) as Michael’s girlfriend and D’Amato muse Laura Gemser (Black Emanuelle) as his unfortunate co-star to John Richardson (Bava’s Black Sunday) as the obligatory creepy groundskeeper.

Fortunately for us director Freda and his collaborators seem to have lost all interest in what they had been doing at roughly the half hour mark, at which point Murder Obsession takes a sharp turn into the nonsensically bizarre and never really recovers. Groundskeeper Richardson stares blankly into the abyss as muddy footprints are left on the mansion’s floor by invisible feet. Gemser is nearly strangled to death – again. Girlfriend Dionisio lapses into a hysterical nightmare, in which she wanders endless tunnels full of screeching rubber bats and enormous spider webs and neath forest bows full of blood-dripping skulls before finding herself strapped to a sacrificial cross and embroiled in a Satanic ceremony that raises a giant and rape-hungry hell-spider from beyond. As familiar as I’ve become with the twists and turns that permeate Italian genre cinema I was honestly surprised by the sudden developments here. After thirty minutes of mind-grinding monotony I couldn’t help but wonder what right Murder Obsession suddenly had to kick ass.

While the giant and rape-hungry hell-spider from beyond is definitely the high point of the proceedings (and what a high!) Murder Obsession thankfully never again settles into its earlier groove, instead opting to channel the gialli of the decade before by way of the slashers that were in the process of transforming so many American drive-in screens into clearing houses for disposable teenagers. As Michael-and-company wander the mansion grounds a leather-gloved killer stalks them down, chewing through their bored and worthless humanity with a hunting knife, an axe, and, most dramatically, a chain saw. While the pretense of mystery is upheld throughout (practically everyone in the film owns leather gloves, inviting a bit of ‘whodunnit’ pondering) Murder Obsession doesn’t seem too concerned with it, and takes more pleasure in whittling down its cast to the point that the responsible party is obvious. In contrast to its early slog the latter two thirds of the story move at a fever pitch, as the film hemorrhages blood and sense on its way to a ludicrous conclusion that may just be cinema’s greatest bastardization of Michelangelo’s Pietà (those sensitive to sacrilege need not apply).

To say that Murder Obsession is a good film would be a gross overstatement, but it’s certainly different, and just the sort of strange, nonsense achievement that I’m happy to have cluttering up my video shelves. Still, a recommendation is tough. Those whose eyes twinkled and hearts leapt at the words giant rape-hungry hell-spider from beyond likely already know where they’re going to stand on this one, and I’ll not deter them from seeking it out. They must, for it is in their blood. The rest of you would probably do best to stick with more respectable genre diversions.

I’ve yet to cover The Fernando Di Leo Crime Collection, the only other Raro Video USA Blu-ray release I own and a real mixed bag in terms of both transfers and encodes. Murder Obsession (which was released to DVD by the same label just a few months ago as an English-only edition) marks a substantial improvement over that release in pretty much every regard – the quality of the film itself excepted.

Presented in 1080p at slightly pictureboxed 1.85:1, Murder Obsession looks pretty good if not quite right on Blu-ray from Raro. Though uncredited as such this is undoubtedly another of LVR’s transfer jobs, as it exhibits precisely the same qualities as those previously known to have been done by them. No, this transfer doesn’t look like film. There’s a somewhat smudgy and DVNR-ish quality to the motion of the image, and while there is plenty of noise to be found there is not a speck of identifiable film grain in evidence. All that aside Murder Obsession retains a certain capacity to impress, offering tight contrast and vivid color where the photography allows for it. There is suspicious softness in places, and an undeniable waxiness to the image at times, but there are also moments of robust detail that are indeed impressive. While I’ve no doubt that a proper transfer from a less problematic post house could have resulted in an overall better image, I’m not sure Murder Obsession really demands it. For home video this looks just fine, and I can’t say that I’m disappointed.

The technical backing really squandered the potential of Raro’s Di Leo collection (granting a piddly 14.8 Mbps average video bitrate to a classic like Milano Calibro 9 is just shameful), and the specifications here have thankfully been beefed up substantially. Murder Obsession is actually available in two separate Mpeg-4 AVC encodes, one for the 92 minute English language cut and another for the 97 minute Italian (each is culled from the same transfer). The shorter cut receives less support, an average bitrate of 21.6 Mbps, and looks a tad softer for the trouble, with more artifacts to be found amongst the transfer’s noise. The Italian cut is, by contrast, quite strong, with its average bitrate of 28.6 Mbps supporting the visuals very well. There are still minor artifacts lurking, but nothing that distracted me in motion. Audio for each version receives a lossless DTS-HD MA 2.0 encode, with the English sounding substantially rougher all around (it sounds to be sourced from tape). The Italian arrives with optional newly-translated English subtitles.

Aside from the bonus English cut of the film the rest of the supplements proved of little interest to this reviewer. The best of the bunch is a 10 minute interview with effects man Sergio Stivaletti, who cut his teeth assisting fx artist Angelo Mattei on the film. Otherwise there’s a longer (22′) interview with Claudio Simonetti on the music of genre cinema, and a shorter (8′) interview with director Gabriele Albanesi (Ubaldo Terzani Horror Show) on the subject of Riccardo Freda. Rounding out the disc is a (very) brief tape-sourced deleted scene and a list of Blu-ray credits. The package is wonderfully designed, from the disc menu up, and comes with an 11 page booklet featuring a synopsis, an essay on the film by Fangoria editor Chris Alexander, and a short biography of writer / director Riccardo Freda.

And that’s it, I think. Murder Obsession receives an imperfect, but perfectly acceptable release from Raro Video USA. At the low price it currently commands ($15.99 shipped from Raro directly, or a dollar more through Amazon) those interested in the film are encouraged to indulge.

The Blu-ray screenshots in this article were taken as full resolution .png in Totem Movie Player, then compressed to .jpg format at a quality setting of 97% using the ImageMagick command line tool. All screenshots are from the more robustly encoded Italian cut of the film.



The Hellstrom Chronicle

April 25th, 2012 | article by | No Comments »
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dir. Walon Green
1971 / Wolper Pictures / 90′
written by David Seltzer
original music by Lalo Schifrin
starring Lawrence Pressman
The Hellstrom Chronicle is out on Blu-ray (reviewed here) and DVD through Olive Films.

“The Earth was created – not with the gentle caress of love, but with the brutal violence of rape…”

So begins The Hellstrom Chronicle, a strange variation on the nature-on-the-loose side of horror that unbelievably won the Academy Award (yes, that Academy Award) for Best Documentary in 1972. Though stuffed to the gills with breathtaking macrophotography the show is only marginally educational, and is less concerned with showcasing the wonders of nature than it is with filling theater seats with its flagrantly sensational, and entirely fictitious, trappings. Those who read that as negative criticism are sorely mistaken, however. The Hellstrom Chronicle is a National Geographic special by way of the killer bug pictures of the ’50s - Microcosmos meets Beginning of the End – and it’s a hell of a time.

The Hellstrom Chronicle is essentially a series of documentary vignettes – on the development and flight of butterflies, the lives of social insects like ants, bees, and termites, the mating ritual of the black widow spider, and so on – precisely photographed by the likes of Ferdinando Armati (Phenomena) and Ken Middleham (Phase IV, BUG, and Damnation Alley).

Where it goes so wonderfully astray is in the framing. The Hellstrom Chronicle is introduced and hosted by the eponymous Doctor (actually Lawrence Pressman, in one of the earliest roles of his ongoing screen career), who warns the audience from the start that he’s something of a heretic in his field. Like countless others, Dr. Hellstrom sees life on Earth as an unending struggle for survival, but his own emphasis on the field of entomology has led him to a startling conclusion. Man, plagued by the distractions of conscience, consciousness, and greed, is on an inevitable path towards self destruction, and once we’re done decimating ourselves with pollution and nuclear weapons and the blight of rationalism it’ll be the insects that rise from the rubble to take our place.

The film hits the usual post-Silent Spring high notes of its genre, lamenting the overabundance of pesticides as well as the dangers of nuclear proliferation, and while these points remain worthy of discussion some forty years on (the recently publicized link between pesticide use and the decline of bee populations is good evidence of this) The Hellstrom Chronicle‘s exploitative aims frequently undermine their significance. Each is pointed out as an example of human shortsightedness (fair enough), but with the ultimate aim of showing the superiority of insects, and the inevitability of their rise to power. The Hellstrom Chronicle isn’t really concerned with scaring it’s audience into changing things, though it certainly could have been. In the end it just wants to give them the creeps.

It doesn’t necessarily help things that Hellstrom dictates his chronicle with such nigh-hilarious earnest, of the sort that convinces audiences less of the believability of his findings than of the fact that he believes them. Pressman plays the role to the hilt, effortlessly toeing the line between mad genius and simple madness. Indeed, as the voice for screenwriter David Seltzer’s (The Omen) early pseudo-philosophical eco-horror ramblings Pressman’s talents prove downright indispensable – his Hellstrom is a consummate crank, but rarely an unlikable one. Seltzer would go on to pen another minor classic of the eco-horror subgenre, John Frankenheimer’s much maligned 1979 monster picture The Prophecy, in which mercury poisoning unleashes a score of giant animals and one very angry mutant bear in the forests of Maine.

Silly as it is, one can’t say that The Hellstrom Chronicle isn’t effective. The contrast producer and director Walon Green creates between the rudimentary Hellstrom sequences (themselves directed by Ed Spiegel) and the lavish macrophotography works precisely as it was intended to, and the experience he gained here no doubt aided him in his later documentaries (like 1979′s The Secret Life of Plants). Add to considerations the tremendous, eclectic score from the inimitable Lalo Schifrin (Bullitt, Dirty Harry, Cool Hand Luke) and The Hellstrom Chronicle becomes a one-of-a-kind slice schlock-art that I can’t help but recommend. See it!

Those few of us who have been patiently awaiting The Hellstrom Chronicle‘s arrival on digital home video would likely have been satisfied with a mere DVD – the film had previously only been available on VHS, and that is long since out of print. As such I was quite happily surprised when I found that it had been licensed by boutique outfit Olive Films for Blu-ray release as well. The Hellstrom Chronicle isn’t the sort of thing that will appeal to those looking to demo their home theater systems, but for those who have been craving more obscure library titles on the format this release may prove practically irresistible.

Working from a high definition master provided by Paramount Pictures, Olive Films present The Hellstrom Chronicle on Blu-ray in 1080p at a pillarboxed ratio of 1.33:1 (theatrical screenings would no doubt have been matted, but I appreciate having the open framing for the insect footage). Given the fact that the film is a low-budget 16mm documentary more than forty years old, the results are quite good. The framing footage featuring Lawrence Pressman looks as flat, gritty, and unimpressive as it always has, but the insect photography looks very nice indeed, with a reasonable level of detail and a rich, natural color. Little restorative work appears to have been done and minor damage is quite prevalent at times, but I didn’t find that a detraction to the experience. The film grain may have been softened a touch, but if so the results are not untoward – this looks much as I imagine The Hellstrom Chronicle should, and you’ll not find better for home viewing.

In terms of its technical specifications the disc is only a modest affair, but of acceptable stuff to support The Hellstrom Chronicle‘s visuals. The 9o minute film is granted a single layer Mpeg-4 AVC at a respectable average bitrate of 24.5 Mbps, and aside from some minor digital artifacts in the grain structure there’s very little left to complain about. Audio goes untouched by artificial up-mixing and is presented via a nice lossless DTS-HD MA 1.0 monophonic track. Pressman’s dialogue and narration sounds just like what it is – cheap post-dub recording – but the otherworldly sound effects and Schifrin’s phenomenal score really shine. There are no subtitles, SDH or otherwise.

As with other Olive Films releases from the Paramount catalogue The Hellstrom Chronicle arrives without supplements, though in this case I doubt we could have expected any even if the studio itself had done the work. Arguments against the perceived high price for these barebones editions have been made before, and will be made again. I’ll not bother with them here. The bottom line is that The Hellstrom Chronicle has never looked or sounded better on home video and in all likelihood never will, and  fans of the film should find it more than worth their while. Recommended.

The screenshots in this article were taken as full resolution .png in Totem Movie Player, then compressed to .jpg at a quality setting of 97% using the ImageMagick command line tool.



Blu vs. Blu: Night of the Living Dead

March 21st, 2012 | article by | 3 Comments »
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A couple of notes before starting. Firstly, this is strictly to be a comparison of the two most readily available Blu-ray editions for George A. Romero’s 1968 classic Night of the Living Dead - a film that’s been scaring the hell out of me since I was in grade school. For those interested in my thoughts on the film itself, this article should do the trick.

Second, I had hoped to cover the domestic Forgotten Films Blu-ray release of the film as well, but the $17+shipping asking price at Amazon is just too rich for my blood given a company with zero reputation and a product that is almost destined to fall below my standards (even for a low budget horror nearly 45 years old). If anyone out there has a copy they wouldn’t mind lending out for a few days I’d be happy to include coverage of it here. Otherwise I’ll post about it when I get around to it, but given the money I already have tied up in pre-orders that’s not likely to be anytime soon.

Third, this article may become a bit more involved than my usual Blu-ray coverage, and to prevent any confusion as to which edition I’m discussing the discs will be referred to, in bold, by the name of the company that released them: Network and Optimum for the two Blu-rays, and with reference to past DVD editions, Dimension (40th Anniversary Edition) and Elite (Millennium Edition).

Now, onto the details of the two discs to be reviewed:

Optimum Home Entertainment
UK / BD-25 / 01:35:52
video: 1080p / 4:3 / black and white
audio: English / DTS-HD MA 2.0 Mono
no subtitles / Region B-locked
supplement: One for the Fire documentary
available for purchase through Amazon UK
Network
UK / BD-25 / 01:35:12
video: 1080p / 4:3 / black and white
audio: English / 16-bit LPCM 2.0 Mono
no subtitles / All Region Compatible
supplemnt: Original Trailer (HD)
available for purchase through Amazon UK

 

First things first – let’s talk about sources. The Optimum Blu-ray of Night of the Living Dead is sourced from the very same high definition master that was struck for Dimension‘s 40th Anniversary Edition DVD in 2008 (the Elite Millennium Edition DVD, by contrast, was authored from the SD master that company had originally prepared for Laserdisc and VHS issue in the 1990s). The 2008 master is sourced from the original 35mm negatives, as was the earlier Elite master. The 2008 master used by Optimum has also been sourced for Blu-ray releases in Japan, France, Spain and elsewhere.

The Network Blu-ray, by contrast, is sourced from a new proprietary HD master struck from a 35mm theatrical release print, and features a super-imposed credit for Movielab (one of the producers of prints for the film’s initial theatrical runs) in the opening titles. No other disc that I’m aware of is sourced from Network‘s master. Interestingly, though both the Optimum and Network editions are framed at the proper 1.33:1, the latter offers substantially more information on all sides of the frame in comparison to the former. This appears to be a result of zooming of the Dimension master at the transfer level (that company’s DVD is framed in the same manner), and is not indicative of manipulation on Optimum‘s part.

For those familiar with the Dimension DVD’s precise presentation (tight framing aside), the Optimum Blu-ray offers much the same, only with the expected uptick in clarity and detail. Textures are quite impressive, from the wood grain in the comparison above to the thread patterns of clothes and furniture to the subtle details of human flesh (un-dead and otherwise). Damage is at low levels throughout, though the minor scratches and speckling of the source elements are more readily noticeable in this HD iteration. Contrast is at healthy levels throughout, with a nice array of gray tones, with only a bit of posterization here and there to distract. A fine grain is in evidence throughout, and soundly rendered by the Mpeg-4 AVC video encode (at an average bitrate of 20.6 Mbps). The image maintains its filmic quality even on close inspection (zooming in 3-4x) with negligible encoding artifacts. Most importantly, Optimum‘s presentation is fully uncut, running just under 96 minutes with no missing footage (save for the final shot, but more on that in a moment).

Network‘s presentation is another beast all together, but I’m not totally averse to it. I grew up watching Night of the Living Dead from copies sourced from the same blown-out Movielab-produced theatrical elements as are utilized here, so the presentation tickles the nostalgic corners of my brain in the best of ways. This applies especially to the film’s unsettling closing credits sequence, which is rendered here just as it was theatrically (with the unfortunate omission of the final “The End” closing card). In all three of the other editions referenced here, and all of the other editions sourced from those same transfers, the zoomed-in still of a lit torch fades to black, before either cutting or fading to the final shot of the bonfire. The Dimension transfer gets things particularly wrong on this front, fading into this final shot a second or more later than it should. The Network transfer preserves the theatrical ending, with the screen flaring white as the torch still is “lit” and cutting to the shot of the bonfire lighting.

  

Still, one can’t let nostalgia get in the way of objectivity, and with the exception of the closing editing and the correct framing Network‘s presentation is, by virtue of its source alone, the inferior of Optimum‘s. Detail and textures remain at higher levels than SD can muster, but are mitigated by the blown-out contrast of the Movielab source print. The shadows are frightfully intense, and light areas of the frame can really blaze – fine detail is frequently lost to both. To be fair, this is exactly as I recall these theatrical prints looking, but for consumers of modern HD transfers, which typically harvest from the OCN, interpositive, or internegative, this appearance may come as quite a shock. Damage is considerable, from dust, dirt, and speckling to prominent vertical scratching (both black and white, meaning that at least some of this was printed right in). There is even some persistent emulsion bubbling towards the top center of the frame, further evidence of just how much care (not much) was taken by Movielab in minting the print to begin with.

This biggest issue with Network‘s presentation, however, is the amount of footage that’s missing (a little more than half a minute). Some of it amounts to a few frames lost to splices here and there, as at the end of the opening “An Image Ten Production” credit, though more substantial losses are also evident (a long shot of the truck driving through the zombie horde is cut quite short), particularly around the reel changes (as is the case with the late-film dialogue scene concerning Barbara’s crashed car, which is missing several lines). These Movielab prints have always been splicy, and I’d wager that most if not all of the ones that still exist are now incomplete, but it wouldn’t have been that much trouble to restore the more substantial losses from alternative sources. Indeed, I suspect Network may well have compounded the issue by removing some of the more excessively damaged frames outright – there’s not a reel change marker or splice to be seen, but the footage associated with them also appears to be gone.

Grain is at low levels, either by virtue of the multi-generation source or mitigation efforts on the part of Network, but the end result didn’t appear overly waxy or digital to these eyes (as is often the case with their HD masters of The Prisoner television series). Unfortunately the Mpeg-4 AVC video encode is of lesser stuff than Optimum‘s, and while the bitrate is only slightly lower (19.6 Mbps on average) artifacting is much more noticeable. It’s not to the point that it ever really distracted from my viewings, but it is there, and the larger you screen the disc the more obvious it will be.

Note: The screenshot comparison for this article is rather big, so I’ve opted to move it to the end of the text instead of its usual place here.

With regards to audio, the Optimum release is mastered from the better source and, as should be expected, sounds quite good in lossless DTS-HD MA 2.0 monophonic English. Dialogue has always been pretty flat throughout this film, a limitation of the original production, but the looped library music has some nice punch at times. Network‘s edition sounds better than I expected in 16-bit LPCM 2.0 monophonic English, but is hindered by the limitations of both the production and the multi-generational source print. The loop score can still sound strong at times, but the track is thinner overall, and the pop and crackle expected of old theatrical prints can be heard at times. That said, the phasing issues that have plagued past Network audio restorations (Things to Come, The Prisoner) are blessedly absent. Neither disc offers subtitles, SDH or otherwise.

Neither release offers much of anything on the supplemental front either. Die-hard Night of the Living Dead fans no doubt already own the feature-length One For the Fire documentary, which was produced for the Dimension DVD in 2008 and amounts to the whole of the Optimum supplemental package. Network eschews anything substantial, but does offer a fresh 1080p transfer of the very rough, very high contrast theatrical trailer for the film. Network may win over on the packaging front, with an awesome original cover design and a style-consistent chapter listing on the interior side of the insert, but Optimum earn props for sticking by the excellent original poster work (They Won’t Stay Dead!). In terms of price each is quite affordable, with the the cost of import to the US (through Amazon UK) running roughly $15 for the Optimum Blu-ray and a slightly lower $13 for the more rustic Network, standard shipping included, at the time of this writing.

In the end I suspect it’s regional playback limitations that will decide for most of you – the Optimum is locked to Region B, while the Network is all-region compatible. For the rest I present the screenshot comparison below. For my part, I bought both, and am happy with each on their own merits. Anything beyond that is up to your personal preferences.

Blu-ray screenshots were taken as full 1920×1080 resolution .png in Totem Movie Player, and compressed to .jpg at a quality setting of 97% using the ImageMagick command line tool.

Optimum Home Entertainment Blu-ray | Network Blu-ray

Select the appropriate cover below to purchase the respective edition:

 



Die Farbe

March 16th, 2012 | article by | No Comments »
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dir. Huan Vu
2010 / Spharentor Filmproduktionen / 85′
written by Huan Vu
from the story The Colour out of Space by H.P. Lovecraft
cinematography by
Martin Kolbert
music by Tilman Seege
starring Ingo Heise, Michael Kausch, Marco Leibnitz, Erik Rastetter, Marah Schneider

The 70s. The father (Patrick Pierce) of Arkham academic Jonathan Davis (Ingo Heise) disappears while retracing his own steps during and shortly after World War II in rural Swabia. Jonathan, deeply concerned, follows him, only armed with a pack of old photos.

At first, Jonathan seems to be completely out of luck. Nobody in the small village he traces his father to seems to have seen him, but at last one of the villagers, a certain Armin Pierske (Michael Kausch), recognizes the elder Davis not on the contemporary photo but at least from a thirty year old army picture.

Pierske tells Jonathan a weird story about how he met the elder Davis when he himself came home from the front, and tried to warn Davis and his men off of visiting a neighbouring farm for reasons Pierske then goes on to explain to Jonathan by way of flashing back to a time shortly before the War.

A meteorite crashed down on the farm of Pierske’s (in the flashbacks played by Marco Leibnitz) neighbours, the Gärteners (Erik Rastetter, Marah Schneider, Leon Schröder, Philipp Jacobs, Jonas Zumdohme). The scientists coming to investigate were confused by the thing’s curious properties: meteorites don’t, after all, generally shrink over time, nor do they have properties strangely at odds with what we know about physics. Shortly before the meteorite could disappear forever during a lightning storm, the scientists found some sort of capsule inside of it, setting free an unearthly colour when trying to take a sample.

 
 
 

With no physical evidence at all anymore after the disappearance of the meteorite, the scientists left. However, strange things began to happen on the Gärteners’ farm. Fruit (and later some animals) started to grow freakishly large, but they also developed a taste that made them unsalable; the trees in the family’s orchard took on disquieting properties, moving when there wasn’t any wind to move them. And slowly, one by one, the family members began to change, growing unstable, mad, and ill through the agency of something not from this Earth.

Of course, the Gärtener’s farm is the one Jonathan’s father was visiting after the War; and it might just be that something he saw there has now called him back in one way or the other.

Huan Vu’s (whom you might know as the director of the Warhammer 40K fan film Damnatus that was killed by the angry lawyer brigades of Games Workshop) Die Farbe is a very fine adaptation of one of my favourite Lovecraft stories, the wonderful “The Colour Out of Space”. At first, I was rather sceptical concerning the story’s relocation from New England to Southern Germany, but for the most part, this change of location is to the film’s advantage. Sure, a viewer has to make a bit of an effort to accept the actors speaking English with clear (yet not very heavy) German accents in the film’s beginning as Americans, and then, once the film’s narrative has relocated to Germany, Ingo Heise’s Jonathan speaking German with a fake American accent, but the alternatives would surely have ruined what is after all an independent low budget production. Trying to pretend Germany is New England would have either robbed the film of its often impressive and mood building outside location shots, or threatened to make unintentionally funny what desperately needs to be earnest. A bit of accent trouble is much preferable.

This is especially the case because Vu uses the individuality of rural Swabia so well, giving the film the all-important sense of place that – as I can’t help but repeat again and again in write-ups – is one of the most effective ways for a low budget movie to gain a character all its own; competing with high budget films – European or American – on their own terrain generally means ignoring the advantages this kind of production has over them. Plus, the Swabian-Franconian Forest can be – filmed in the right way like it is here – an excellently creepy place, just the kind of locality where the intrusion of the Weird seems believable.

 
 
 

Die Farbe not only manages to evoke a place, but also specific times, through simple yet effective tools. Initially, I thought the three time levels were unnecessarily complicated, however, it soon became clear that the nested flashbacks really were the best way to tell Vu’s version of Lovecraft’s tale, and that – not a given in independent horror – Vu actually knows how to handle this sort of structure without the resulting film becoming tedious or needlessly confusing. It’s also nice to see a Lovecraft adaptation that does not feel the need to permanently include winks and nods towards the authors other works or shoehorn historical guest stars in for no other reason than to demonstrate that its writers know who Charles Fort was. There’s a guest appearance of the Danforth Memorial Library at the beginning, but that’s mostly that.

This admirable sense of restraint runs through the majority of the film’s writing. The movie prefers to underplay many of its dramatic and horrifying beats, all the better to be able to get its viewers with those it doesn’t underplay. It’s spiritually as close to Lovecraft’s writing in this particular story as possible, using those of the writer’s techniques that are applicable to film, and only changing the story’s framing instead of its major beats. The only part of the writing I’d criticize is the twist in the last act that doesn’t ruin the film, but also doesn’t do anything to improve it. As plot twists go, it isn’t horrible, it just seems a bit unnecessary.

On the visual side, Vu makes the interesting decision to film in black and white, except for the Colour itself, which is a clever and elegant way to get around the question of how one shows a colour that is indescribable – when the world is black and white, any colour will look Weird. For once, I also find it impossible to be annoyed by the use of CGI; in fact, CGI seems to me the right method to bring a living colour without a body as we understand it to life (such as it is). After all, a thing without body mass can’t suffer from the typical CGI problem of things looking like they have no body mass.

All these elements (plus some decent to good acting) add up to a piece of contemporary independent horror cinema I for once find easy to praise; I am, as it turns out, a sucker for films whose directors make one intelligent decision after the other and even improve on these decisions through thoughtful execution.


The Horror!? is a regular cult cinema column by Denis Klotz, aficionado of the obscure and operator of the film blog of the same name.



Bava’s Demons to haunt limited edition steelbook this April

March 12th, 2012 | article by | 3 Comments »
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Gorehounds and ’80s hair metal apologists take note – Arrow Video’s long-in-the-works editions of producer Dario Argento and director Lamberto Bava’s inimitable schlock-rock horror classics Demons and Demons 2 are finally on the horizon!

Though delayed (…again) until April 30th and recently negotiated for Region B only (these were originally announced as All Region, but the licensor has since stipulated otherwise), Demons and Demons 2 are still looking damned attractive to my Stateside eyes. Perhaps the most promising news, beyond the usual spate of Arrow-produced supplements and superfluous packaging flair, is that the films are each being restored from the original negative not by the usual suspects, but by Cineteca di Bologna, who worked with Martin Scorsese to restore Fellini’s La Dolce Vita in 2010. I hope this bodes well.

More exciting news arrived just a few days ago, when it was let known that, in addition to the standalone Blu-ray and DVD editions already planned, Arrow intended to released both Demons and Demons 2 as a limited edition steelbook combo release. Posts at the CultLabs forums show this to be a pretty impressive looking package, though it will lack some of the standalone editions’ considerable paper extras (including the switchable covers, fold-out posters, and exclusive comic book sequel). Actual on-disc content appears exact. The details of this limited edition 2-disc steelbook, quoted from Amazon.co.uk, are below:

INCLUDES:

- Limited Edition SteelBookTM packaging
- Collector s Booklet featuring brand new writing on both films by Calum Wadell
- Brand new HD restorations of both films
- Optional English and Italian audio and English subtitles for Italian and English (SDH) audio for both films

DEMONS SPECIAL FEATURES:

- The audio recollections of director Lamberto Bava, Special Make-Up Creations Artist Sergio Stivaletti and Journalist Loris Curci
- The audio recollections of the cast and crew, featuring Lamberto Bava, Sergio Stivaletti, Geretta Geretta and Claudio Simonetti
- Dario s Demon Days: Producer Dario Argento discusses the inception of Demons
- Defining an Era in Music: Composer Claudio Simonetti on the Demons Soundtrack
- Luigi Cozzi s Top Italian Terrors: Cozzi discusses the highpoints of Spaghetti Splatter

DEMONS 2 SPECIAL FEATURES:

- The audio recollections of director Lamberto Bava, Mechanical Creations & Transformation Artist Sergio Stivaletti and Journalist Loris Curci
- Creating Creature Carnage: Extensive Interview with makeup man Sergio Stivaletti
- Bava to Bava: Luigi Cozzi tracks the history of the Italian horror film; from Riccardo Freda and Mario Bava to the end of the golden age with Michele Soavi and Lamberto Bava as well as considering recent Italian horror films.

The Demons + Demons 2 limited edition 2-disc steelbook Blu-ray is slated for release on April 30th, and is available for pre-order through Amazon.co.uk. For fans in the US, it also currently costs £3.31 (a little over $5, plus exchange fees) less to import than the standalone editions due in large part to differences in shipping charges. Make of that what you will.

The already well-publicized standalone DVD and Blu-ray editions are still up for order as well. Click on the appropriate cover below to reserve your copy today:

   

Due to personal taste and even-tighter-than-usual finances, I’ve pre-ordered the limited edition steelbook for my home shelf – a comprehensive review will be readied as soon as it arrives. Stay tuned!



Hammer Definition: Dracula Prince of Darkness

March 10th, 2012 | article by | 1 Comment »
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It’s safe to say that the Hammer faithful (myself included) were all around thrilled when Quatermass and the Pit arrived on Blu-ray from Optimum as one of the best catalog releases of recent memory, and those same faithful were no doubt hoping for more of the same from the re-branded Studio Canal’s double-play issue of Terrance Fischer’s Dracula Prince of Darkness - released last week in Region B and readily available through Amazon.co.uk (NOTE: Amazon UK appear to have pulled their listing  entirely for the time being, while the British Video Association currently lists the release as “Pulled from Schedule”. I assume the disc has been recalled due to the widely reported audio problems). Unfortunately it was not to be. That’s not to say Dracula Prince of Darkness is a total disaster, but it’s certainly a major disappointment.

On the positive side of things Dracula Prince of Darkness underwent considerable restoration at Pinewood Studios in advance of its high definition home video debut, a process that began with a fresh 2k scan from the original 2-perf Techniscope negative. No end of physical damage, from minor dirt and specks to ungainly vertical scratches and splice marks, has been cleared from the image, and though some minor marks remain scattered throughout the ravages of time (nearly 50 years) have effectively been erased.

Color reproduction has likewise been improved from the faded original elements, and while it never reaches the depth of saturation of a vintage Technicolor release print it certainly doesn’t look bad either. Exteriors, frequently filtered as day-for-night, fare the worst, appearing overly cool and presenting with a notable green tinge. Interior photography can appear quite lush by contrast, with warmer flesh tones all around, and that quintessential Kensington gore is remarkably vivid. While I’d have preferred more of a boost in contrast the black levels here look quite accurate with one notable exception – a brief snippet beginning at 01:16:20 in which the image fades strangely flat, even in the letterboxing, for a few seconds (just for the duration of that one shot). I’ve included a sample below, and the difference should be obvious when compared to the other screenshots provided.

In addition to improving upon the color and contrast and restoring a great share of the damage the materials had accrued over four-and-a-half decades, Pinewood have regrettably opted to soften the substantial grain of the 2-perf Techniscope photography through an excessive application of digital noise reduction. It’s the film’s pre-credits sequence, footage from Fischer’s earlier Horror of Dracula framed in billowing fog, that shows this manipulation the most, having been scrubbed of any hint of finer detail or palpable film texture. While the rest of the film improves markedly from there, the over-application of DNR remains readily apparent. Grain is still evident in the background, though its well-defined edges have been softened away to no good end. Detail, particularly at the level of flesh or material texture, suffers as a result, though remains at more refined levels than SD video could support.

Though the numbers appear to show an acceptable technical backing for the feature I found them rather misleading, as the VC-1 video encode (at a perfectly sound average bitrate of 29.4 Mbps) just doesn’t support the visuals to the degree it should. The trouble here is artifacting, pure and simple, and while the image looks acceptable in motion a cursory examination reveals any number of ugly digital blemishes tinkering about in the background. Skies and interior walls prove particularly bothersome – take a look at the room behind vampire Shelley in screenshot number 013 for a prime example – and the acceptability of their rendering will depend directly on just how large a scale you intend to view the film.

Otherwise, the image is properly framed at 2.36:1 and presented in a universally accessible 1080p. While it never looks like film it does have some stronger moments on all fronts (like the close-up on Count Dracula’s bloodshot eyes), as the included screenshots should relate. Whether or not it is good enough for your personal taste will be a matter of just that, but it’s worth noting that this is likely as good as Dracula Prince of Darkness will look for some time.

Blu-ray screenshots were taken as full resolution 1920×1080 .png in Totem Movie Player, and compressed to .jpg at a quality setting of 97% using the Image Magick command line tool.

Comparison DVD screenshots were captured as full resolution .png in VLC Media Player, and compressed to .jpg using the same technique as above. In the case of the upscaled samples, DVD screenshots were upscaled to 1920×1080 resolution in GIMP, saved to .png at the highest quality settings, then compressed to .jpg using the method previously described.

The below three sets of screenshots directly compare the Blu-ray and DVD editions included in this double-play package. Both are sourced from the same high definition restoration, though the superiority of the high def iteration (particularly with regards to detail and breadth of color) should be obvious. DVD screenshots have been included both at native and upscaled 1920×1080 resolution for sake of comparison. DVD images (native, then upscaled) appear first, followed by the Blu-ray. Frame matches are exact.

Additional Blu-ray Screenshots:

Initial pressings of Dracula Prince of Darkness - both DVD and Blu-ray – present with a few notable audio synchronization errors, beginning with the pre-credits montage of Peter Cushing doing battle with Christopher Lee. I would make more of this, but Studio Canal has already announced a replacement program that should effectively settle the issue. I’ve already put in for my replacement discs, and will update this review when they arrive.

Other than that, there is nothing to complain about with regards to Dracula Prince of Darkness‘ audio presentation. The original monophonic mix is reproduced by way of a lossless 16-bit LPCM 2.0 track that sounded very good to these ears, with the late great James Bernard’s classic Dracula theme (rehashed from his work on the earlier Horror of Dracula) coming through loud and clear. There is some reasonable depth at times, particularly during a late film horse chase, but don’t set expectations for this near-50 year old mix too high. It sound crisp, clear, and intelligible throughout, with a few robust moments in between, and I can’t ask for more than that. The feature is accompanied by a nice set of optional English SDH subtitles.

Though the feature presentation is problematic the supplemental package (duplicated across both the Blu-ray and DVD, albeit all in PAL SD for the latter) is quite strong, and dominated by a new half-hour documentary in HD – Back to Black: The Making of Dracula Prince of Darkness, which includes interviews with stars Barbara Shelley and Francis Matthews, various Hammer historians, and the esteemed Mark Gatiss (of The League of Gentlemen fame). Otherwise the majority of what’s here is old stuff, though its inclusion is certainly appreciated. In addition to a feature commentary with Christopher Lee, Suzan Farmer, Francis Matthews, and Barbara Shelley, the release offers a The World of Hammer episode on star Christopher Lee (24 minutes, PAL SD), behind the scenes 8mm footage with commentary from Lee, Farmer, Shelley, and Matthews (8 minutes, PAL SD), the original theatrical trailer (2 minutes, HD), a double bill trailer for Dracula Prince of Darkness and Frankenstein Created Woman (36 seconds, HD), the original US and UK opening titles* (only the opening company logos, HD), and a brief restoration demonstration (4 minutes, HD).

A robust slate of supplemental content and one of the best cover designs I’ve ever seen (I was amused to no end to find one of the censor stamps placed dead-center of Barbara Shelley’s cleavage) can’t hide the fact that the Dracula Prince of Darkness Blu-ray / DVD double-play offers a seriously flawed feature presentation. That said, it’s still the best the film has ever looked on video, though its level of acceptability will be up to the personal preferences of the fans. For me it does the job, if only just (and I think even that’s giving it more leeway than I honestly should). Here’s hoping that the restorations of The Reptile and The Plague of the Zombies are handled more responsibly.

*For the feature the UK opening company titles were digitally recreated (and quite well). The supplements feature the original UK opening company titles as sourced from a very rough 35mm theatrical print.


Dracula Prince of Darkness-star Christopher Lee, with producer Anthony Nelson Keys. Taken from the on-disc documentary Back to Black.


Sennentuntschi

January 27th, 2012 | article by | No Comments »
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dir. Michael Steiner
2010 / 115′
written by Michael Steiner, Stefanie Japp and Michael Sauter
cinematography by
Pascal Walder
music by Adrian Frutiger
starring Roxane Mesquida, Nicholas Ofczarek, Andreas Zogg, Carlos Leal and Joel Basman

1975. Just after a small village in the Swiss Alps has buried its sacristan after his suicide, a bloody and battered young woman (Roxane Mesquida) appears in town. The woman doesn’t seem to be able to speak, and is clearly either heavily traumatized or mentally ill, but the villagers at once blame her for the sacristan’s death. After all, one of the villagers saw what he thinks was a woman in a monk’s robe in the mountains the day before, so witchcraft must be afoot! This must make some kind of sense to the villagers, even though it’s the sort of logic that’s only logical if you’re a surrealist. It sure doesn’t help improve the situation when the local priest brandishes his crucifix in the poor woman’s face and provokes her into a fit of panic.

Confronted with that sort of superstition, and a little bit infatuated with the mysterious stranger, the local constable Reusch (Nicholas Ofczarek), seemingly the only man in town who isn’t batshit insane, takes charge of the woman and attempts to find out who she is and where she came from. He stumbles upon something strange: his new ward looks exactly like a woman who disappeared twenty-five years ago during the burning of a mountain cabin that killed three men.

While Reusch is away talking to the retired cop who worked the case in the 50s, the priest attacks the nameless girl with a knife, and drives her to flight. On her way, she accidentally causes a miscarriage (her fear of crosses is again to blame) in Reusch’s former girlfriend (now the mayor’s wife), which conclusively proves to anyone not Reusch that she is in fact a witch.

Next time we see the girl again, she arrives at the mountain cabin of farmer Erwin (Andrea Zogg), his son-who-thinks-he’s-his-nephew Albert (Joel Basman), and their newly arrived helper Martin (Carlos Leal), who is on the run for the murder of his wife, and therefore just as insane as everyone else in the movie. Because they were just having an orgy with home-made absinth, the men kinda-sorta assume the girl’s a Sennentuntschi like in the old story about a straw doll brought to life by the devil. Clearly, the girl’s suffering won’t end with her arrival.

All the while, Reusch discovers the dark secret of his village.

  
  
  

So, the classic continental European artful exploitation movie, horror department, is alive and well and living in Switzerland, it seems. Even though director Michael Steiner deconstructs most (yet not quite all) potential supernatural aspects of his story and the Sennentuntschi legend, he’s doing everything else I’ve come to expect in and hope from this kind of film.

As the plot synopsis should have made clear, the film is heavily over-written, full of preposterous plot ideas (only about half of which I’ve mentioned) and melodramatic explanations for everything that’s happening, populated by (predominantly male) characters who are all so clearly out of their minds as to make a girl who can’t speak, acts like a child and turns dead guys into straw dolls look positively normal. In addition Sennentuntschi is told with a structural trick I’m not going to spoil that I don’t think makes the film any better, but clearly makes it a hell of a lot weirder; in fact, I’m utterly unsure if Steiner wants his audience to be surprised by that trick or not – his film is sending very mixed messages about it.

This may sound as if Sennentuntschi weren’t a good movie at all, but the opposite is true. There’s much to be said for the film’s over-serious rediscovery of much of what was good about European genre cinema of the 70s, the rediscovery of a combination of strangeness, metaphorical overload, and classic exploitational values, as well as for its the willingness to be nasty and cruel to its characters, even those it clearly doesn’t hate. I, for one, can’t help but respect a film that gives up clarity for the possibility to surprise its audience. But then, that’s what I would say.

On the film’s metaphorical level, Steiner seems to be quite obsessed with dualities. At least, the film is stuffed full with them, from the boring man-woman and rationality-superstition ones to the structural one I’m still not willing to spoil. As is good and well-loved tradition, the film’s narrative logic and the reasons for its narrative logic can get a bit confusing, which seems to be a fitting way to construct a narrative about characters who are all not exactly mentally healthy.

Not confusing at all is Steiner’s visual mastership. The director uses the impressive Swiss landscape to build a mood of overwhelming strangeness, and to intensify the already over-heated feelings of his characters, grounding the strangeness of what is happening in the very real, yet also very strange mountain landscape of a place whose harshness seems to influence the state of mind of the characters populating it for the worse.

I also found myself very impressed by Roxane Mesquida’s acting. Her combination of childlike body language, the visible remnants of hurt and pain, a peculiarly innocent sexuality and a very calm sort of madness dominate the film’s best moments without being showy. If not for Mesquida’s performance, the part of the film’s metaphorical level that’s all about contrasting “maleness” and “femaleness” would probably be quite annoying, but the actress turns what could be a mere symbol – and a symbol of various conflicting things, by the way – into a person. Plus, most of the male characters’ problem isn’t their maleness, but their being murderous rapist assholes, a fact the film seems to realize about half of the time. Which again puts Sennentuntschi directly in the tradition of classic European exploitation movies, where the subversive, the uncomfortable and the conservative have always been entwined in the most interesting, yet also often very uncomfortable, manner.


The Horror!? is a regular cult cinema column by Denis Klotz, aficionado of the obscure and operator of the film blog of the same name.



Mr Wrong

January 20th, 2012 | article by | No Comments »
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dir. Gaylene Preston
1986 / 83′
written by Geoff Murphy, Gaylene Preston and Graeme Telly
from a story by Elizabeth Jane Howard
cinematography by
Thomas Burstyn
original music by Jonathan Crayford
starring Heather Bolton, David Letch, Margaret Umbers, Gary Stalker and Danny Mulheron
Mr Wrong
 is available on OOP VHS under the American title of Dark of the Night

Meg (Heather Bolton perfectly embodying a mixture of inexperience/naivety and hidden strength) has left her country home for the big city (I’d insert a joke about what “big city” means in New Zealand here, but that would be oh so inappropriate seeing where I live), where she works in an antiquities store. To make it easier to visit her parents over the weekends – and probably as a symbol of her freshly won independence – the young woman buys a used Jaguar.

Her first long drive with the car does not go quite as well as Meg would have hoped for. When she stops by the side of the road to take a night nap, she’s awoken by hard and pretty unhealthy sounding breathing noises from the back seat of the car that start whenever she turns off the interior lights. Worse, or at least even more frightening to her, there’s nothing and nobody to see on the back seat.

After that experience, Meg becomes increasingly nervous and afraid of the car, a state of affairs that is certainly not improved by further peculiar happenings surrounding it. After Meg has had a nightmare centring on a long-haired woman, she sees the exact same woman standing by the side of the road trying to hitch a ride in her waking life. For whatever reason, Meg stops for her.

However, the woman isn’t alone. A man (David Letch) gets in together with her, but he doesn’t seem to actually be together with the woman as Meg assumes. In fact, he doesn’t seem to know about the woman’s presence at all, which becomes understandable but not exactly less peculiar when she suddenly just disappears from the car. The guy is more than just a bit creepy too, and Meg has a hard time getting rid of him.

This experience is nearly enough to convince Meg of getting rid of her car as soon as possible, and when she learns that its last owner was a young woman about her age who was murdered, and whose killer has never been caught, our heroine does try to sell it off.

That, however, is much easier said than done, for the car begins to sabotage Meg’s efforts in ways that could be explained away by bad luck, if it weren’t clear to the young woman her car was haunted.

While all this is going on, a mysterious someone begins to send Meg roses – surely, this won’t have anything to do with the rather more horrible things going on in her life right now?

  
  
  

I know little about the movie scene in New Zealand (with the exception of being quite intimate with the films of Peter Jackson and Jane Campion), so I can’t really say how typical Gaylene Preston’s Mr Wrong is for the cinematic output of the country in the mid-80s. What I can say is that it is a pretty fantastic little film in mode and mood of the clever – and quite weird – ghost story. Given that this is based on one of the handful of supernatural tales Elizabeth Jane Howard wrote, the “clever and weird” part isn’t too much of a surprise; it is, however, quite a positive surprise how well the Weirdness of Howard’s story and Preston’s naturalistic eye on the New Zealand of the 80s complement each other.

As frequent readers of my ramblings will know by now, I am an admirer of low budget films that make use of the cheapest of all special effects – local colour – to set the mood of their stories, and am even more of an admirer of films that are letting the very real of a specific place and time collide with the Weird and the peculiar, so I am predisposed to liking Mr Wrong, as it is a film whose whole modus operandi is very much based on these techniques. Even better, Preston really knows what she’s doing in this regard, showing herself to be equally at home with taking a – slightly sarcastic – look at her central character’s live and times (I wouldn’t be too surprised if there were a certain autobiographical element at work here, either) and with slowly showing the seams and cracks of Meg’s existence where the disquiet and the strange can enter through, cracks, the film seems to say, even the most unspectacular of lives has. Are, after all, Meg’s life and that of her unhappy predecessor in car ownership all that different from each other? Preston doesn’t overstretch the parallels between the woman and the haunt. In fact, if you don’t want to see this aspect of the movie – that is most probably there to demonstrate something about the way a woman still has to fight for her independence (in the sense of self-ownership) – you will probably never notice it at all. It’s always excellent when a director is subtle with the treatment of her film’s metaphorical level.

From time to time, Mr Wrong is a bit rough around the edges, but it’s the kind of roughness that comes with the territory of making movies for little money in a place where making a movie can’t have been all that easy to begin with, and is offset by a direction that can be creative and imaginative without feeling the need to show off. After all, it’s clear to see for everyone that the director really knows how to use the idiom of the ghost story and the thriller without any need for her to point it out to her audience like a bad Hollywood actor trying once in his life for actual acting. Instead, Preston’s film impresses through an unassuming intelligence.


The Horror!? is a regular cult cinema column by Denis Klotz, aficionado of the obscure and operator of the film blog of the same name.



Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan

January 17th, 2012 | article by | 1 Comment »
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dir. Nobuo Nakagawa
1959 / Shintoho Co. / 76′
written by Masayoshi Onuki and Yoshihiro Ishikawa
from the play by Nanboku Tsuruya IV
director of phogoraphy Tadashi Nishimoto
music by Michiaki Watanabe
starring Shigeru Amachi, Noriko Kitazawa, Katsuko Wakasugi, Shuntaro Emi and Ryuzaburo Nakamura
Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan is available for online streaming through the Criterion Collection channel on Huluplus

Before he shocked audience sensibilities with the bizarre and inimitably grotesque Jigoku in 1960 veteran Japanese director Nobuo Nakagawa sent shivers down their spines with this stylish tale of ghostly revenge. Early on a director of everything from comedies to war-time documentaries, Nakagawa is most remembered for a number of supernatural horrors directed for Shintoho Co. in the latter half of the ’50s. Among those films 1959′s Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan may well be the best. Adapted from the famed (and oft-filmed) 19th century kabuki by playwright Nanboku Tsuruya IV, Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan tells the classic story of innocence tormented, only to rise up from beyond the grave to grant evil its just deserts.

The first half of Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan operates as a catalogue of atrocities perpetuated against a woman and her family from without and within. Central to the drama is ronin Tamiya Iemon (Shigeru Amachi), a samurai of ill-repute whose intentions of marrying Iwa (Katsuko Wakasugi), daughter of the Yotsuya family, are thwarted by his would-be father-in-law Samon. One dreary evening, enraged by the elder’s insults, Iemon slaughters both Yotsuya Samon as well as the father of Sato Yomoshichi (Ryuzaburo Nakamura), a talented young swordsman betrothed to Iwa’s sister Sode (Noriko Kitazawa). Witnessed by ne’er-do-well Naosuke (Shintaro Emi), who is himself obsessed with Sode, Iemon finds himself in an alliance of convenience, and following a plan by Naosuke to blame the deaths of fathers Yotsuya and Sato on a local rough who had troubled the families in the past. Yomoshichi quickly joins up with the two schemers, believing that they wish to help avenge the families by hunting down those responsible, only to find himself at the edge of their swords as well.

Some time later, all obstacles to their success seemingly overcome, Iemon and Naosuke each take up residence in Edo with their respective sister. While Sode refuses to marry Naosuke, demanding that her family be avenged before such can come to pass, Iemon settles uncomfortably into a married life with Iwa and has a son. It doesn’t take long for Iemon to grow tired of his pedestrian lifestyle, doing unsatisfying work to support his wife and child and losing most of his earnings to gambling. When a chance encounter finds him in the good graces of the wealthy Ito’s, and their beautiful daughter Ume, he sees a chance for escape. Soon Iemon, the Ito’s, Naosuke and even a local masseuse are scheming to absolve Iemon of his familial obligations, but when Iwa proves too devoted to her husband he takes drastic, irreversible action.

Convincing masseuse Takuetsu to seduce his wife so that he might have proper grounds to divorce her, Iemon secretly plots to kill the pair as adulterers – his right, by law. Knowing that Iwa will never willingly accept Takuetsu’s advances, Iemon instead guarantees her demise by feeding her a deadly, disfiguring poison. Iwa discovers too late her husband’s treachery, and the depth of his crimes against her family, but before throwing both herself and her child on a blade curses his name, vowing to avenge her misfortunes with nothing less than the eradication of the Tamiya family line. Takuetsu becomes collateral damage, killed to support the facade of adultery, and is dumped along with Iwa into a canal. Convinced that all obstacles have again been overcome Iemon commences with his marriage to Ume, blind to the possibility that his late wife’s spirit might seek revenge…

  
  
  

Adapted in a streamlined fashion by Masayoshi Onuki and Yoshihiro Ishikawa to fit the fiscal and temporal constraints of Shintoho Co.’s typically low-budget fare, Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan nevertheless crams a lot of complex character-driven drama into its first few acts. Those unprepared for director Nakagawa’s brisk pacing may find themselves a bit lost in it all, as schemes build upon schemes and ever more outwardly upstanding citizens conspire against young Iwa. It can feel quite chaotic at times, though I dare say that was likely the point. As quickly as things develop it seems improbable, if not impossible, that Iwa could ever have understood the awful depth of human cruelty amassing against her until it was too late, something that makes her plight all the more sympathetic and her eventual revenge all the more satisfying. Katsuko Wakasugi (Ghost of the Girl Diver) lends the role a necessary frailty, seeming a truly helpless victim until the truth of things is revealed to her. From that moment her characterization changes into that of a driven monstrosity, the inhumanity pitted against her giving rise to a suitably inhuman instrument of vengeance.

The versatile and underrated Shigeru Amachi (Black Line, Jigoku), here appearing as the scheming Iemon, plays in pitch-perfect contrast to both iterations of the Iwa character. In the film’s early acts, when Iemon has the upper hand, Amachi is positively psychopathic, utterly remorseless in his actions and forever distant, cold, dangerous. In his day-to-day torments of Iwa he is wantonly despicable, but in his scheme to poison her, playing the dutiful and loving husband all the while, he disturbs, becoming nothing but a murderous beast masquerading as a man. Even the pretense of humanity is dropped once the tables ultimately turn, and the cornered Iemon reverts to a state of frightened, caged animalism.  Only at death’s door does a glimmer of genuine humanity shine from within him, the damned Iemon praying too late for his slaughtered wife’s forgiveness.

Director Nobuo Nakagawa skillfully manages the film’s breezy but complex drama, complementing it with a variety of interesting visual motifs (like a recurrence of vertically striped imagery and a notable emphasis on the color red) and otherworldly compositions that often feel like paintings-in-motion. By contrast the latter half of Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan is positively alive with indelible fantasy imagery – a corpse carried across a field of yellow flowers, a body rising from a pool of murky red, Iemon lost on a sea of shutters, a man falling, slowly, onto the flooded floor of an impossible room-turned-marshland. At its height Nakagawa’s work here is absolutely haunting, glimpses of half-remembered nightmares obscured by shadow and punctuated with rich primary color. The style here is highly reflective of that seen in Jigoku and elsewhere throughout Nakagawa’s career, and this flair for the fantastic served the director well as he transitioned to the Toei Co. payroll following Shintoho Co.’s bankruptcy in 1961.

As could be said of so much of the great genre cinema, it would have been easy for Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan to be a mundane outing, another in a long line of adaptations of a story all too familiar, but a favorable confluence of just the right elements have conspired to make it something far greater than that. While Jigoku, with its abstract proclivities and abundant gore (a real rarity in 1960), remains the best known of his films in the West the more substantively accessible Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan may well be Nakagawa’s masterpiece, a classic tale retold in a manner that’s thrilling and unique and oh so spooky. This is vintage Japanese genre cinema at its absolute best, and a must-see for anyone keen on the same.

Though currently unavailable on domestic home video, Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan is available for online streaming through the Criterion channel on Huluplus



Grave Encounters

January 6th, 2012 | article by | No Comments »
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dir. The Vicious Brothers
2011 / Twin Engine Films / 95′
written by The Vicious Brothers
cinematography by Tony Mirza
original music by Quynne Craddock
starring Sean Rogerson, Ashley Gryzko, Merwin Mondesir, Mackenzie Gray, and Juan Riedinger
available on dvd through Amazon.com

(Don’t) stop me if you’ve heard this one before. The footage Grave Encounters consists of is purportedly edited down from footage shot by the team of the ghost hunting TV show “Grave Encounters” during the filming of their rather fatal sixth episode.

An appropriately smug and somewhat cynical team of five (Sean Rogerson, Ashleigh Gryzko, Merwin Mondesir, Mackenzie Gray and Juan Riedinger) sets out to spend a night locked in one of those creepy former asylums for the mentally ill that dot the US landscape (at least if I can believe what the horror movies – who clearly wouldn’t lie to me – tell me). The ghost hunters don’t go in expecting to actually find anything supernatural, obviously, but as long as they can pretend to be creeped out, it’ll be good, successful reality TV, right?

Fortunately for the movie’s audience, and very unfortunately for the film’s protagonists, they will encounter quite a bit more paranormal activity than they ever could have expected or wished for. And while the things the crew first encounters, like doors moving by themselves, may only be a little creepy, later developments have a much more dangerous and disturbing bend. Clearly, not everybody – if anybody – will make it out of the place alive.

By now, I think, there are enough found footage/fake documentary/POV horror movies about ghost hunting TV people around to make up their own little sub-sub-genre. Unlike the other films of this sort I had the dubious honour of watching, Grave Encounters is actually a pretty good film.

  
  

The film does of course have its share of flaws. I think the interview parts before the crew is locked in could have been cut down a little, to make the film’s start a little pacier. As it stands, the actual meat of the narrative begins about forty minutes into the film, just at the point when I was beginning to lose my patience with it a little.

I also could have gone without the overuse of the jerky zoom lens style in the interview sequences – it’s the sort of thing nobody holding a camera in a professional or semi-professional capacity actually does (not even the directors of photography of ghost hunting reality shows), and it threatens the poor helpless audience with seasickness. Once the interview segments are over, the zoom lens is fortunately retired forever, so I’m not even sure why it’s used this extensively early on at all.

Grave Encounter‘s biggest problem is probably the quality of its special effects. About half of the effects do actually look pretty decent to my eyes, but the other half (let me just say big-mouthed ghosts) looks too much like bad digital fakery and too little like terrible things from beyond. On the other hand, it is pretty clear that this is strictly a low budget affair, and even when the execution of the effects seems problematic, they’re usually trying to show something creepy or conceptually interesting. When in doubt, I take a badly realized but interesting thing over something that looks slick but is basically boring.

As far as flaws in independently produced horror go, these are rather minor ones, and they are overshadowed by the things Grave Encounters‘ directors – going under the somewhat silly moniker The Vicious Brothers – do right.

  
  

Prime among things that the film does right, is the way it treats its characters. Even though they are presented as slightly pompous and deeply dishonest towards their audience (I think this is what people call realism), the film still allows them more than enough sympathetic traits to make it easy enough for an audience (or at least me) to empathize with them. I’m not talking great character depth here – I doubt great character depth is anything POV horror can even achieve – but enough depth to make the characters human. The script certainly gets help here by actors who may be a little broad in their approach sometimes but are pretty good at switching from their early on-camera ghost hunting pomposity to people completely out of their depth and scared out of their wits.

Some of the things our not so intrepid protagonists have to face are pretty scary on a conceptual and on a concrete level, but even when they only encounter standard ghosts, these are standard ghosts doing ghostly things thematically appropriate for an empty asylum setting. These activities can’t help but add a historical dimension to the ghosts, making them not just disquieting or frightening for the things they do to others, but also the things that have been done to them; a victim turned into a monster by outside forces is often more effective than a mere monster.

Aside from ghosts, though, there are also a few things making the protagonists’ lives harder that come from the Weirder side of the tracks than mere dead people walking around being rude. The Vicious Brothers do some very effective things with temporal and spatial anomalies that suggest the influence of Daniel Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves. It’s exactly elements like these nods to Danielewski what most films of the contemporary (post-crappy-Paranormal-Activity, in contrast to the post-Blair Witch one) POV horror genre are too often missing for my taste. Hauntings of this kind are visually cheap to realize and give a film an added dimension of the frighteningly strange and unreal that rubs nicely against the hyper-realism of the POV-form, but I’m afraid too many horror directors working right now are in love with the straightforwardly scary.

Consequently, I’m glad that Grave Encounters dares to be this decisive bit different from its brethren. Now, where did I leave that EMP-meter?


The Horror!? is a regular cult cinema column by Denis Klotz, aficionado of the obscure and operator of the film blog of the same name.



Fright Night

December 13th, 2011 | article by | No Comments »
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Year: 1985  Company: Columbia Pictures   Runtime: 106′
Director: Tom Holland   Writer: Tom Holland
Music: Brad Fieder   Cinematography: John Kiesser
Cast: Chris Sarandon, William Ragsdale, Amanda Bearse, Roddy McDowall, Stephen Geoffreys, Jonathan Stark, Dorothy Fielding, Art Evans, Stewart Stern, Nick Savage, Ernie Holmes, Heidi Sorenson, Irina Irvine
Disc company: Twilight Time   Video: 1080p 2.41:1   Audio: DTS HD-MA 5.1 English
Subtitles: English SDH   Disc: BD25 (All Region)   Release Date: 12/13/2011
Fright Night is now officially SOLD OUT
Reviewed from a screener provided by Twilight TIme

“What would you do if you accidentally discovered the house next door was occupied by something not human… something horrifying… something unspeakably evil? No one believes you – not your mom, not your girlfriend, not even the police. It knows that you know. You’ll do anything to protect yourself, but it’ll do anything to protect it’s secret…”

It’s not often that one can rely on a theatrical trailer to give an honest description of the film it represents, but in the case of Tom Holland’s 1985 horror opus Fright Night the advertising makes such excellent work of it that I feel no remorse in letting it do that part of my job for me. With inspirations ranging from Hammer to Hitchcock, a smart script, and a superb cast of players, Fright Night ranks as one of the very best of the ’80s genre revivals and a damn fine film in its own right. In theme it recalls the distinct brand of sci-fi terrors Universal’s B-picture department specialized in some thirty years before (epitomized by 1955′s Tarantula!), in which all manner of fantastic horrors were visited upon small-town America, though in practice it’s a different beast all together. Standing in for the Cold War paranoia of then is a sexual anxiety fitting of Fright Night‘s teen leads, while the usual atom-born menace is lost in favor of one of the oldest fantasy threats of all – the vampire.

Taking place in an anonymous slice of Reagan-era suburbia, Fright Night follows the exploits of veritable every-teen Charley Brewster (William Ragsdale), a high school kid with a beer light in his room, porno mags shoved between his encyclopedias, a doting single mother, and a girlfriend named Amy (Amanda Bearse) who loves him to bits even if she’s horrified to go “all the way“. Charley idolizes his local horror icon Peter Vincent, washed-up host of the late-night schlock marathons from which the film takes its name, stumbles through his trigonometry homework, and oh yeah – he has a vampire living next door who knows Charley knows about him and wants to kill him for his troubles. With no one believing his story, not even Vincent, Charley rightfully fears for his life, but things get even more personal when the suave bloodsucker next door takes a shine to his virginal girlfriend…

It is with that last point that Fright Night, a terrific horror film on its surface merits alone, reveals what’s really on its mind – sex. Some (including Julie Kirgo, who contributes the excellent liner notes for this release) have read homosexual undertones into the vampire Jerry Dandridge (Chris Sarandon as the ultimate in sensual and be-sweatered yuppie menace) and his relationships with troubled young outsider “Evil” Ed (Stephen Geoffreys, who made a career of gay porn in the ’90s) and his live-in familiar Billy Cole (Jonathan Stark), but the most overt of the film’s sexual substance is of the straight variety. Indeed, Holland pushes the subject from the very start, opening with a bit of intercourse that is not to be between Charley and his beloved. The vampire attack witnessed by Charley that starts all the trouble is an overtly sexualized affair and a later encounter between Dandridge and Amy (the spitting image of Jerry’s long-dead lover) is even more so, with Amy cooing in orgasmic bliss as blood trickles down her back. In this context the growing conflict between Charley and the dastardly Dandridge becomes less about survival than about who will collect the sexy spoils, and control the fate of Amy’s freshly-awakened sexuality.

Fright Night may have sex on the brain, but it’s still out for thrills and chills, first and foremost. Holland and company don’t disappoint. Though bolstered by terrific practical effects and creature design from Randall William Cook and Richard Edlund (Oscar-winning alumni of such productions as Ghostbusters and Raiders of the Lost Ark), Fright Night‘s most effective moments remain its simplest, like Charley investigating suspicious noises in the night, Dandridge suddenly appearing in the corner of a darkened bedroom, or “Evil” Ed running into the stalking menace in a misty alleyway. Holland shows a keen understanding for the genre throughout, both in his taught direction (this, his debut as director, remains his best work in that regard) and in the intelligence of his screenwriting, and never neglects the horror of the situation. Much more importantly, he never neglects the characters who make that horror tick.

To that end it’s impossible not to discuss Fright Night without also discussing its cast, perhaps the best in practice of any of the decade’s revival horrors. Roddy McDowall gives the performance of his later career (one he would reprise in Fright Night Part 2 three years later) as down on his luck horror icon Peter Vincent, whose career as cinema’s preeminent vampire killer has collapsed into a low-pay hosting gig on a late night television film show. Initially paid to help cure Charley of his vampire delusions, Vincent soon finds himself the unlikely ally of the child, and forced to summon the courage of a role he’d played so many times before to combat an evil all too real. McDowall balances Vincent’s tremendous charm and ego (his reaction to discovering Charley and his friends don’t want his autograph is priceless) with underlying insecurity and, ultimately, courage, and practically owns the picture in the process.

At the more malignant end of the spectrum lies Chris Sarandon as the devilish Jerry Dandridge, who, along with Kinski, Schreck, Lugosi, and Lee, exists as one of film’s most memorable vampires. Dandridge – who eschews the traditional cape for snazzy cable knit sweaters and has a taste for fresh fruit (fruit bat?) just as strong as his taste for the supple necks of prostitutes – is every bit a product of the decade in which the film was made, an upper crust yuppie bloodsucker with a penchant for remodeling homes and antiquing. He keeps up with the pop music scene, looks perfectly adept in the neon haze of a discotheque, and keeps a dark, wry sense of humor about himself that makes him seem all the more dangerous (“What’s the matter Charley? Afraid I’d never come over without being invited first?”). But Dandridge is more than just yuppie trappings and a handsome smirk, whistling “Strangers in the Night” as he stalks his prey. Sarandon’s ace performance lends the character an attractive outsider mystique and a feral magnetism that’s difficult to ignore. He’s a perfect villain, made all the more effective by just how tempting he makes the evil he represents appear.

Like Dandridge, Fright Night itself is very much a product of its time, though it’s no less successful a picture today for the polka dotted linoleum on its floors or the Ian Hunter on its soundtrack. It remains the best film of writer and director Tom Holland’s career (is that really The Langoliers I see in your filmography? Oy.), and easily makes my short list for most satisfying genre efforts of the ’80s. Among its often lamentable brethren Fright Night manages to be something different, something special, and for those keen on horror it’s an absolute must-see.

Fright Night proved a surprise success upon its release, becoming the second highest grossing horror film of 1985 (behind A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge), but times have clearly changed. Though still a popular cult item Fright Night has become just another among many victims of waning big-studio confidence in deeper library titles, however successful they may have been initially, and the lackluster returns of the recent remake (also to be released on Blu-ray today) have sealed its fate as far as owners Columbia / Sony are concerned. With no interest on the part of the owners to release the film to Blu-ray themselves, niche label Twilight Time have stepped in to take up their slack. While many may find the arrangement less than ideal, with Fright Night released as a limited edition of 3000 at a price point higher than might be expected of a wider issue, you’ll hear no complaints from me. If this is the future of library titles on Blu-ray then I’m in full support of it, and those wishing to see more marginal big-studio properties available on the format would do well to do the same.

But what of the disc, eh? Fright Night arrives on Blu-ray with an honest 1080p transfer in the original Panavision ratio that serves the intended aesthetics of its modest production quite dutifully. From the neon-drenched interiors of the discotheque and a beer-light illuminated teenage bedroom to the starker, more natural exteriors, the latest Sony-produced master of the title looks very good throughout. Damage is minimal, limited to some baked-in white marks and a bit of minor dust and debris, and while the level of detail can vary greatly from scene to scene the end results never appear unfaithful to the original photography. There’s a lovely layer of natural grain in evidence throughout, and though the modest encode (single layer AVC at an average video bitrate of 21.5 Mbps) results in some (very) minor artifacts there’s nothing here that’s so dramatic as to distract from viewing. This is another strong showing from Twilight Time, and fans of Fright Night should be very pleased.

Blu-ray screenshots were taken as uncompressed .png at full resolution in Totem Movie Player, and compressed to .jpg at a quality setting of 95% using the ImageMagick command line tool.

Originally a Dolby Stereo show, Fright Night‘s visuals are served well by a new lossless DTS-HD MA 5.1 mix. Those expecting directional effects to be bouncing about like ping-pong balls will be out of luck – what you get is occasional LFE umph and some minor separation, but a track that remains faithful to the overall aesthetics of the original recording. The moody synth score, dialogue and effects all sounded excellent to these ears, and appropriately vintage for a film now in its 26th year. I dig it. The most robust addition to the contractually-limited supplemental package (which otherwise includes only a pair of theatrical trailers, both in HD with lossless audio) is the isolated Brad Fieder score in lossless DTS-HD MA 2.0 stereo which, though lacking the notable pop songs included in the film (I assume they were omitted due to the lofty expense of licensing them), sounds quite robust. Twilight Time leave very little to complain about here, and even include a set of optional English SDH subtitles in the mix.

In the short period Twilight Time have been active in the Blu-ray market expectations have already grown quite high for them, and Fright Night does not disappoint. Another excellent set of liner notes (remember when these were included with practically everything?) from Julie Kirgo round out the package, and even include the URL for a pair of Fright Night ’pirate’ audio commentaries (available from Icons of Fright) featuring much of the cast and crew. Awesome stuff! Whatever your thoughts on these limited edition niche releases, the bottom line is that you won’t find Fright Night looking or sounding better than it does here, and isn’t that what really matters? Fans and genre junkies are heartily encouraged to indulge.

in conclusion
Film: Excellent  Video: Excellent –  Audio: Excellent
Supplements: Isolated Brad Fieder score track. two theatrical trailers in HD, liner notes by Julie Kirgo.
Packaging: Standard Blu-ray case with booklet.
Fright Night is now officially SOLD OUT


The Invisible Man vs. The Human Fly

December 2nd, 2011 | article by | No Comments »
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a.k.a.: Tomei Ningen To Hae Otoko
Year:
1957  Runtime: 96′  Director: Mitsuo Murayama
Writer: Hajime Takaiwa   Cinematography: Hiroshi Murai   Music: Tokujiro Okubo
Cast: Yoshiro Kitahara, Ryuji Shinagawa, Junko Kanau, Ikuko Mori

A strange and increasingly violent series of burglaries and murders shakes Japan. The murder victims are usually found stabbed in the back, and killed in tightly controlled or completely locked places. Or on an airplane toilet. Additionally, nobody ever sees or hears any sign of the perpetrator or perpetrators. Why, you could think the killer is invisible! That’s at least what the lead investigator of the case, well-respected young cop Wakabayashi, says in a moment of weakness.

When the policeman utters this rather absurd theory while interviewing some scientists he is friendly with about the airplane toilet business one of them witnessed, they aren’t laughing about his flights of fancy. Ironically, the men are working on some scientific ray stuff whose by-product is invisibility, or, as they prefer it to be called, imperceptibility. They haven’t tested it on a human being yet, though, out of fear that it might be dangerous.

Apart from putting the idea of an invisible copper into his brain, this isn’t getting Wakabayashi anywhere right now. Fortunately, the continuing murder spree gives our hero and his team a lot to distract them. The last few victims have been pointing in the air and swatting at something during their last moments, and witnesses heard the buzzing of a fly. Why, you could think the killer can turn into a fly! Which is nearly, but not quite what is happening. In truth, the killer is using an experimental reagent made during the war to facilitate his escapes. This reagent, you see, can shrink down a man until he is not quite as small as a fly. As SCIENCE(!) teaches, all small creatures are able to float through the air while making the buzzing noise of a fly, so that’s the explanation for the noises the witnesses heard.

About half of the murders are connected by this reagent too, because the victims have all been part in the war crimes committed during its creation, though none of them have been punished for them. This part of the killing spree is vengeance for and by the only man who did get punished, and is now using a rather mad gentleman with an addiction to the reagent to commit the murders. The other half of the killings has something to do with the madman’s obsession with a nightclub singer on whom he likes to perv when he is shrunk down, but let’s not go there.

Obviously, this is the sort of case that can only be cracked if someone is willing to take the risk of becoming an invisible man.

  
  
  

Even though this plot description sounds as awesome as it is dumb, Daiei’s IM vs HF is not quite as awe-inspiring as I would have liked it to be. The film has two major problems it is only just able to conquer to my satisfaction. The first one is scriptwriter Hajime Takaiwa’s peculiar decision to frame much of the movie’s first two thirds as a slightly weird police procedural, with many scenes of earnest looking men doing earnest police business that are only from time to time broken up by the insanity that waits in the plot’s background. The second problem is also one belonging to the script. Takaiwa seems hell-bent to stuff Human Fly as full of elements of the police procedural, the slightly sleazy exploitationer and the mad science horror film as possible. This, however, leaves even the more patient viewer (like me) with a film full of ideas and plot-threads that are never really explored nor explained and in the end more often than not just stop with a hand-waving gesture when Takaiwa is getting bored of them.

Characterization-wise, there’s never a clear through-line for why people act like they do. Just to take some obvious examples, why does the film’s villain suddenly turn from a man out for vengeance and a bit of money into the sort of bad guy more fitting into an issue of The Spider? What does he need the invisibility ray for when he already can turn into a flying, buzzing little man? And, while I’m at it, why doesn’t he just steal it (he is the Human Fly, after all) instead of going for a semi-apocalyptic blackmail plan? And why does the elder scientist’s daughter decide that the invisible scientist already at work isn’t enough and turns into the invisible woman?

I sure could make up some reasons for the characters’ behaviour, and some of the film’s obvious plot holes, but I do think that’s the responsibility of the script, not the audience. Especially the film’s last third gives the impression of Takaiwa giving up and just making stuff up as it goes along without any thought for coherence or sense. Come to think of it, hero pulps like The Spider with their usually heated and sloppily constructed narratives seem like an excellent point of comparison to what Taikawa does here writing-wise.

Comparable to many of the hero pulps, the writing flaws that hinder IM vs HF from becoming the goodSF/crime/horror hybrid movie with a subtextual line about the violence committed by war-touched people in post-war Japan it could have been, are also making it enjoyably nutty and near impossible to dislike for viewers like me who can get excited about a film that’s just full of silly stuff for no good reason other than the clear awesomeness of all silly stuff. This is, after all a film that doesn’t want to realize that flies have wings for a reason, a film that also makes up some nonsense about face and hands of an invisible person getting visible quite fast again because of the rays of the sun while the rest of it doesn’t (no nudity for Japanese people who want to turn visible again, it seems), only to then forget that for the rest of its running time. It also presents turning back from an invisibility by means of SCIENCE(!) as very dangerous, until it’s time to wrap everything up, when it’s not only possible to turn visible again and live, but to seemingly go from one state to the other at will. It’s all very dumb, and reeks of lazy writing as much any modern blockbuster I’ve seen, but it sure is fun to watch what nonsense Takaiwa is going to come up with next.

The film’s other big plus point is Mitsuo Murayama’s (whom I know as one of the Japanese directors who’d go on to work a bit for Hong Kong’s Shaw Brothers) direction. For my taste, Murayama isn’t a very consistent stylist, but he is the kind of director always going for the most interesting angle from which to shoot the more boring police procedural scenes, making the parts of IM vs HF most in need of not looking square and boring look much weirder than their actual content and context deserve; if you’re the generous type, you might even suggest Murayama is hinting at the strangeness surrounding his square policemen right from the beginning by way of his stylistic tics. Be that as it may, Murayama’s often peculiarly cramped, close-up and Dutch angle heavy visual style keeps the movie’s rather slow beginning interesting, and helps the mess that is its script stay a mess that is fun to watch even in its worst moments.

The Horror!? is a weekly cult cinema column by Denis Klotz, an aficionado of the obscure and operator of the film blog of the same name.