HORROR 101 with Dr. AC

Vampyros Lesbos (1971) d. Jess Franco (West Germany/Spain)

Lesbianism in horror films had been teased at as early as Dracula’s Daughter (1936), becoming slightly more overt in the ’60s with Claire Bloom’s bisexual medium Theo in The Haunting before baring it all in 1970 with a flood of Sapphic bloodsuckers led by the box office suck-sess of Hammer’s The Vampire Lovers. Once the luscious Ingrid Pitt had stepped out of the bathtub in her altogether and chased young Madeline Smith around the room, the fanged femmes launched an all-out cinematic assault, with titles such as Daughters of Darkness, The Blood-Spattered Bride, Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural, Vampyres, and Jean Rollin’s art-house horror efforts titillating the hearts and wallets of red-blooded hetero men (and a few women, no doubt) with a lethal combo of same-sex flesh and blood.

In the vanguard sits Jess Franco’s curious entry in the lesbian vampire sweepstakes, curious because while it features plenty of nudity and female necking (get it?), it is strangely unerotic, with Manfred Hubler and Siegfried Schwab’s catchy lounge-act soundtrack providing a strident counterpoint to the onscreen imagery. (Like many of Franco’s films, there only appear to be four melodic refrains, subsequently played endlessly and seemingly at random.) Even so, it’s usually my go-to film for introducing people to the filmmaker, providing as it does an ample sampling of Francoisms: in addition to the factors just mentioned, we’ve got the requisite excessive zooming, long wordless sequences, endless pans and inserts of random flora and fauna, and the director showing up onscreen, usually as some skeevy type (here he’s a drooling hotel manager with a few literal skeletons in his closet).

Soledad Miranda, billed as Susann Korda for the sake of the German producers, is hypnotic in her first leading role for Franco, playing the haunted Countess Nadine Carody with a world-weary aspect, spurred to action by the prospect of a new companion in Linda Westinghouse (Ewa Strömberg). When not lounging by the pool (these vamps thrive in the sun rather than quailing from it), the countess performs an elaborate cabaret act where she doffs her duds and uses them to dress a living female mannequin on which she then puts the bite. Franco apparently liked the act so much, he has Miranda perform it twice in its entirety which hardly any variation. Somehow, I doubt that anyone in the raincoat crowd was complaining.

Coming off the previous year’s Count Dracula with Christopher Lee, it’s clear that Franco and his co-writers Jaime Chavarri and Anne Settimo are using the Stoker source material as inspiration throughout, while cleverly substituting sunny Spanish locations for dreary Transylvanian castles and giving Dennis Price’s Van Helsing character an un-death wish, his fierce knowledge of the occult fueling a desire to become a vampire himself! There’s also a Renfield type in the form of Agra (Heidrun Kussin) ranting wildly in Price’s madhouse while sharing a psychic link with her former mistress.

An onscreen metaphor is established between a scorpion and Miranda’s character, which actually works better than expected in the final reel, although the payoff is a long time in coming. Up until that point, viewers will be forgiven for wondering if Franco simply found a random desert dweller and stuck it on camera for B-roll purposes (and I’m still not entirely convinced that wasn’t the case). He also has a confusing obsession with a ship out on the horizon that never quite figures into the storyline – one gets the impression the infinitely resourceful director looked out on the water, saw the ship, and decided that, as well as adding production value, Stoker fans would read in the Demeter reference.

Severin’s Limited Edition Blu-ray release is a real treasure for Franco fans, packed with several terrific extras, as well as a separate disc boasting a rare, somewhat weathered-looking Spanish bootleg version of the film, Las Vampiras. (The pristine, newly remastered version we’re seeing is the German version, even though it curiously has French opening titles.) As mentioned above, for the Franco-curious, this is a great place to start, since Vampyros manages to be relatively accessible while still retaining its creator’s distinctive style.

The supplements include a lengthy interview with the late director, conducted not long before his death in 2013. Like the one on Severin’s Bloody Moon release last year, the conversation is lively (and subtitled – even though Uncle Jess is speaking in English, his age and accent are occasionally difficult to decipher) and filled with anecdotes and candor aplenty. (I kind of loved it when he calls Strömberg “not very good.”) This is followed by a lovely tribute to the film’s late star in the form of “Sublime Soledad,” as Amy Brown, web mistress of SoledadMiranda.com, who takes us on an affectionate tour of the actress’ life, career, and premature death by auto accident in late 1970.

One of our favorite genre scholars and author of Murderous Passions: The Delirious Cinema of Jess Franco, Stephen Thrower, puts in time sharing some background intel on the film itself and its place in the director’s oeuvre, and the many collaborations he had planned with Miranda prior to her tragic end. Even though they only did six films together (and an unfinished seventh), it’s clear that Franco had finally found a subject that could sustain his eccentric stylistic flairs. Luckily, his most enduring muse, Lina Romay, showed up the next year to fill the void.

There’s also the endearing “Jess is Yoda” clip, which proffers the theory that Star Wars FX man Stuart Freeborn based his design of the iconic green-skinned Jedi master upon you-know-who. Whether the story is apocryphal or not – Freeborn has stated numerous times in public interviews that Yoda’s face was an amalgam of his own features and those of Albert Einstein – it does make for a great tale.

Franco also states in the snippet that he and Freeborn worked together on four films, but the IMDb has no record of this, so you just gotta wonder, since if Freeborn were the type to go burying credits, you’d think he would have done something about Superman IV: The Quest for Peace.

Um, mmmmmmmmmmmmaybe?

An alternate German opening title sequence and the original German trailer round out the extras.

Vampyros Lesbos is available now in a Limited Edition (7500 copies) Blu-ray (paired with the Las Vampiras DVD) and can be ordered HERE:

https://severin-films.com/shop/vampyros-lesbos-2-disc-limited-edition-blu-ray/

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She Killed in Ecstasy (1971) d. Jess Franco (West Germany/Spain)

For his daring experiments in genetically modifying human embryos to eliminate birth defects and disease, an ambitious young doctor (Fred Williams) is disbarred and hounded from the medical community. Despite the efforts of his beautiful wife (Soledad Miranda), he lapses into inconsolable depression and eventually takes his own life. Driven mad with grief, she swears vengeance on the quartet of doctors who destroyed her husband’s career (played by Howard Vernon, Ewa Strömberg, Paul Muller, and writer/director Franco), seducing and murdering them one by one.

As with the majority of Franco’s efforts, the synopsis above barely does justice to the viewing experience, for as veterans of his work well know, plot is hardly the main concern. In this case, however, the story’s streamlined nature makes She Killed in Ecstasy one of the wildly erratic director’s most accessible and innately enjoyable works. Because those three introductory sentences are quite literally all there is to the screen story, we are able to enjoy the sultry and bewitching presence of Miranda (billed again, as she was for Vampyros Lesbos, as Susann Korda) in her stunning star turn as she lines up the sexual crosshairs on each of her prospective victims and then takes them down just at the moment of climax.

Since the film very much functions like a chapter-play, it also allows each of her capable co-stars their moment in the sun, and all embrace the opportunity fully. Vernon, a frequent Franco flyer, particularly seems to enjoy his S/M-themed temptation and demise, while Muller revels in his character’s feeble attempts to escape Miranda’s clutches, emphatically and fruitlessly denying her advances. Strömberg affects the same dead-eyed charm used in Vampyros, her limits as an actress outweighed by her physical assets. And then there’s Jess himself, who can barely restrain his glee at being stripped, strapped, and slapped around in the final reel by his muse.

That was a good take... Let's do one more for safety.

Also back in action are pop-lounge composers Siegfried Schwab and Manfred Hubler, whose zippy refrains are much more successful this time around, providing a surprisingly effective aural backdrop for the crimes of passion and the preludes thereto. As with their previous effort, there are a limited number of cues endlessly recycled throughout, complimenting and contrasting the onscreen action (more on that in a second).

Making its Blu-ray debut courtesy of Severin Films, this newly remastered HD presentation retains Franco’s original 1.66:1 aspect ratio, with colors bright and shadows deep. Like their concurrent release of Vampyros, the Limited Edition comes packed with supplemental materials, specially packaged in a die-cut slip case with newly created cover art by Wes Benscoter.

The extras include another extended (and subtitled) interview with Franco, who expresses some disappointment in Ecstasy, in that it didn’t quite match the artistic highs achieved with Vampyros, but concedes that it was a great pleasure working once again with the same creative team, and that the final film is a marvelous showcase for his star. “Sublime Soledad” is the same interview held with Miranda historian Amy Brown that appears on Vampyros (see review for details), but it’s so engaging that a second viewing is more familiar pleasure than redundant chore.

There’s also a genial sit-down with Muller, who teamed with the prolific auteur on multiple occasions. He shares a few laughs and memories, such as an editor friend bemoaning the state of onscreen romance (“They look like they’re eating each other!”) and Muller assuring his comrade that he shared his sentiments and would never engage in such behavior. Flash forward a few weeks, whereupon said editor rang Muller up to hotly chastise him; on a film he was currently cutting, what should roll across his Moviola but scenes of the actor engaging in heavy lip-lock action!

Stephen Thrower, author of Nightmare U.S.A. and the upcoming Murderous Passions – The Delirious Cinema of Jess Franco, is always a welcome presence, armed with a keen intellect and a deep appreciation for just this sort of Euro-horror offering. As with his discourse on the Vampyros disc, he provides a marvelous sense of context for where Franco was in his career at the time of production, and the hows and whys behind the film’s genesis. He also has a bit of a giggle over Franco’s casting himself as the final focus of Miranda’s character’s fury, commenting that Jess looks like he might be enjoying his “torment” just a little too much.

But probably the most exciting feature of this release is the digital repressing of the ultra rare 24-track 3 Films By Jess Franco: Vampyros Lesbos / She Killed In Ecstasy / The Devil Came From Akasava. At long last, you can hear these uber-catchy tunes as often as you choose, and how telling is it that three full-length motion picture soundtracks can fit on a single silver platter? You thought I was kidding about the repetitive nature, didn’t you? Think again. But now when you’ve got Schwab and Hubler’s “Ecstasy” song from Vampyros (actually called “The Message” – who knew?) going through your head the way I have for the past three days, you can scratch that itch and quickly.

She Killed in Ecstasy is available now on Limited Edition (4000 copies) Blu-ray from Severin Films and can be ordered HERE:

https://severin-films.com/shop/she-killed-in-ecstasy-2-disc-limited-edition-blu-ray/

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Scarecrows (1988) d. William Wesley (USA)

A small group of military mercenaries decide to rip off the government, making off with $3.5 million and hijacking a small aircraft to Mexico. When one of their own, Bert (B.J. Turner), decides to double-cross his partners by parachuting out of the plane with the loot, they pursue him to the ground, following him to an abandoned farmhouse near a field of scarecrows. Unfortunately for the crooks, these straw-filled dummies have the nasty tendency of climbing down off their crosses and picking up sharp implements with which to plunge and dice and slice.

With a solid body count, impressive makeup effects, and a bare-bones plot that still allows for a welcome amount of ambiguity, here is one of those low-budget '80s flicks that continues to surprise viewers upon discovery and rediscovery.

Conceived and directed by Wesley, a former military cameraman, the extended Twilight Zone premise holds up quite well nearly 30 years later, despite the fact that almost all involved were first-timers. That it clocks in at a lean, mean 80 minutes – six of which are dedicated to the closing credits – is just the icing on the beer n’ pretzels cake.

Shot on a shoestring in 1985 in Florida as “Evil Stalks,” Scarecrows ultimately underwent an extended post-production period where tons of additional dialogue, including much of the radio chatter and Tuner’s internal monologue, were (clearly) added in order to liven up “the dead space” as Wesley puts it. (The director credits Richard Jeffries with much of the dialogue; whether that’s a compliment or not is open to personal tastes.)

The frustrations continued when, a few months after completion, the film found itself trapped in limbo when its distribution company, Manson, went bankrupt. Happily, it was finally released to VHS by Virgin and Forum in 1988, where it was quite successful, and then later on DVD by MGM in 2007.

Now, Shout! Factory unearths the ’Crows once again, with a treasure trove of extras to honor the occasion. The first of these being the wonderfully chatty audio commentary with Wesley and producer Cami Winikoff, hosted by esteemed genre journalist Rob Galluzzo, which is filled with tons of hilarious-in-hindsight anecdotes, such as the cast and crew being beleaguered by mosquitoes to the point that many were stricken with malaria, and marveling at how much they were able to accomplish on-set with a tiny budget and practical effects. There is also a separate track comprised of three equally entertaining interviews conducted by Michael Felsher with co-screenwriter Richard Jeffries, DP Peter Deming, and composer Terry Plumeri.

The two featurettes, “The Last Straw” with FX artist Norman Cabrera (16 min) and “Cornfield Commando” (8 min) with actor Ted Vernon, who plays our resident bald bruiser Corbin, are also produced by Felsher’s Red Shirt Pictures. Cabrera, who has gone on to carve out quite a reputation working with Rick Baker, KNB, and Spectral Motion, was only 18 years old when he was tapped to create the effects (on a $5000 budget, no less). Still exuding an enormous amount of youthful glee and exuberance, the Hollywood veteran explains how a chance meeting with Wesley through a mutual comic book shop acquaintance in Miami led to his film debut.

For Vernon’s piece, the former wrestler and current reality-TV personality (South Beach Classics) comes off as extremely gregarious and down-to-earth. As Scarecrows’ credited executive producer, his conditions were that he would put up the initial seed money if he – and his dog Dax – were given roles in the film! He reflects good-naturedly about the rigors of working at his car dealership job during the day and shooting all night on the set, while hinting not-so-subtly about on-set tension between himself and Wesley. (“He’s lucky I didn’t wring his frickin’ neck.”)

Original storyboards, still gallery, and “theatrical trailer” (even though it never received a theatrical release) round out the extras.

Scarecrows is available now on Blu-ray from Shout! Factory and can be ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/film-horror/scarecrows

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Samurai Avenger: The Blind Wolf (2009) d. Kurando Mitsutake (USA)

A mysterious blind Samurai-With-No-Name (producer/director/co-writer Mitsutake) ventures to a desert prison to greet Nathan Flesher (Domiziano Arcangeli) on the day of the criminal’s release. As the title might indicate, this is no social call: Flesher is the man who murdered his wife and daughter before his eyes before taking those as well. En route, the swordsman must do battle with no less than seven of Flesher’s deadly hired assassins, each more cunning and dangerous than the last. A drifter, appropriately named Drifter (Jeffrey James Lippold), accompanies him along the way, seeking personal revenge against Flesher as well. Friendship will be tested, skill and strength will wrestle, and arterial blood will spray.

I always find it interesting when a filmmaker’s dream project is to pay homage to that which went before. In this case, Mitsutake is looking to make his own version of the spaghetti westerns of Sergios Leone and Corbucci as well as the samurai epics of Akira Kurosawa and Kenji Mizoguchi all in one tidy drive-in-ready package. However, unlike so many other “throwback” efforts occurring these days (PLEASE, GOD, MAKE IT STOP), the Tokyo-born, U.S.-educated director approaches his subject matter with an admirable balance of sincerity and spoof.

For example, the opening credits are preceded by an introduction written in Japanese calligraphy (and voiced in English by faithful narrator Curtis Buck) stating that the film is being presented for the first time in its uncut version, with apologies for the substandard quality of some of the previously “cut” scenes.

Now, obviously, a quick glance at the release date tells us that there never were any cut scenes, nor was it ever previously released in truncated form to appease scissor-happy censors. But the illusion is welcome and it sets the scene nicely for what is to come: a '70s-vintage samurai western (shot in “SushiWesternScope”) that just happens to have been made four decades later.

The impossibly widescreen framing and the snap zooms are all in place, and the nameless characters are a parade of colorful archetypes, from the Hypnotist assassin (Mariko Denda) dazzling us with her literally stunning rack to the trio of duster-wearing cowpokes to the black-toothed witch dragging three coffins into frame in true Django fashion.

The results are mixed, but the can-do spirit is strong, and it is on this wave of moxie and good-natured enthusiasm that Samurai Avenger arrives and thrives. The excessive bloodshed and zippy interstitial flashbacks feel more like nods to Tarantino and Rodriguez’s faux grindhouse efforts, minus the smugness and “check this out” attitude. Here is a young filmmaker eager to explore and emulate his heroes, both old and new, and he fares best when he plays it straight, letting the comedy and commenting emerge naturally from the heightened situations and characters.

Stunt coordinator Peter Steeves’ action scenes aren’t quite up to Yuen Wo Ping standards, and Mitsutake and his camera team don't opt for concealing the imperfections with cuts and framing perhaps as often as they should. Still, there’s plenty of blood (both practical and digital), colorfully costumed villains (did I mention the topless hypnotist?), and random Amanda Plummer cameos to keep our interest. With enough goodwill and pizza and beer, there’s no reason not to have a good time.

Synapse Films’ decision to champion this long-in-limbo release marks an interesting diversion for the distributor, considering their usual modus operandi of restoring and presenting classic fare. But perhaps because of their legacy, they also seem like the perfect fit, and Mitsutake clearly showed up to the party with plenty of in-the-can supplemental material to sweeten the deal.

The feature-length making-of documentary can’t help but make fans of the filmmaker and his team of independents, as we watch them plan, prepare, struggle, and survive the arduous process of shooting in the unforgiving Death Valley locations. We cover nearly every facet of production, from initial storyboards to wrap parties, meeting the minds and bodies before and behind the camera.

There’s also a splendid audio commentary with Mitsutake, producer Chiaki Yanagimoto, and co-writer/editor John Migdal that somehow manages not to be redundant, bringing even more behind-the-scenes details to light and openly discussing scenes on which the two screenwriters disagreed and how compromises were reached. A swordfight choreography instruction featurette with Steeves, character designs, trailer, and blooper reel round out the fit-to-burst package.

Samurai Avenger: The Blind Wolf is available now from Synapse Films and can be ordered HERE:

http://synapse-films.com/synapse-films/samurai-avenger-the-blind-wolf-blu-ray/

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The House with 100 Eyes (2013) d. Jay Lee / Jim Roof (USA)

Susan (Shannon Malone) and Ed (Jim Roof) are a happily married, all-American couple with a dream: to make the ultimate snuff film. They desire to not only deliver an ambitious, quality product (their latest challenge is to produce a “triple feature” – a three-way sex/murder sequence – “Three stars, three kills”), but also create supplemental materials, behind-the-scenes, audio commentary, featurettes, etc. But as we soon discover, this whole serial killer thing isn’t as easy as it looks, and our enterprising self-taught auteurs are far from infallible, both on and off camera.

I don’t know if I would go so far, as Artsploitation’s new DVD release’s cover jacket proudly trumpets, to call this the “grisliest horror-comedy imaginable, especially for anyone who’s seen Man Bites Dog (2002) or The Last Horror Movie (2003) which two decades on are still exponentially funnier and more disturbing than anything on display here. However, Lee and Roof do manage a pretty decent job of creating a sense of realism and voyeurism, capturing the suburban killers at their most everyday and ordinary as they bloodily fumble their way through the task at hand. It’s like Married with Children gone horribly, horribly wrong.

House is a true family affair (our two leads are married in real life), with Roof handling screenwriting and co-directing duties – as well as playing our bullying weasel Ed – and Malone producing. The faux documentary approach hardly breaks new ground, but is admittedly handled quite well with the security camera set-ups in the happy couple’s home well justified. (Kudos to Lee, who shot the entire film on a single Canon 7D, with the illusion of dozens of GoPros, different camera lenses, and digital static and other effects all created in post-production. It’s an impressive invisible effect.)

Unfortunately, as pointed out above, this has been done before. Like, LOTS OF TIMES, especially in this lousy-with-found-footage era. So, any seasoned horror fan isn’t going to see anything here they haven’t seen before, and all the build-up can’t help but create expectations that your little DIY flick can’t match. I don’t know how versed in the genre Lee and Roof are, because they really seem to think they’ve crossed some line into truly disturbing and depraved material on the audio commentary. (There’s also this passage from the “Directors’ note” on the liner notes: “House isn’t a movie you enjoy, exactly. We hope you appreciate it. We hope it has an impact on you, and that you remember it long after it’s over. But enjoy? Not really.”) This kind of hyperbolic blather can’t help but come back and bite you in the ass, kids.

To wit: an opening title card explains that “In June of 2000, documentary filmmaker Jay Lee received an anonymous package containing fifty-eight unmarked videotapes and DVDs. The footage they contained was so shocking and depraved that law-enforcement agencies and media outlets declared it a hoax. The film you are about to see has been edited from that footage. We believe it to be real. It is being released to the public in order to expose the atrocities being committed in our own neighborhoods.”

I’m sorry, but YAWN. Cue the eye-rolling, scoffing, and coughing from the peanut gallery.

Now, this is not to diminish their accomplishments, because on the whole, this isn’t a bad film. The performances, especially Malone as the perfect twisted Betty Crocker wife with a penchant for poisoning, are all solid and relatively believable, and Patrick Magee’s gore effects work a treat.

There is also decidedly more thought put into the whole mockumentary approach than usual, providing a bona-fide for where the footage might have come from and how it might have come to be assembled and distributed. Then there’s our weird stumpy character Maddie (Lauren Lakis), a marvelous in-camera gag from Magee and a welcome curve ball amidst the familiar torture film tropes.

Lee and Roof also make the “legit journalism” choice to blur out the nudity on the victims (and in one memorably icky sequence, Ed’s dork). The drama is strong overall, and despite the overt unpleasantness of the characters, we do grow attached to all of them to some degree.

However, like their onscreen counterparts, the filmmakers err at times, such as the buzzing audio static that is a) way too choreographed to be bought as diegetic sound and b) why are there static and camera flaws anyway? Why would the picture get all fuzzy and screwed up on the master camera, the presumably good one? It makes no sense, and, more importantly, the screeching gets really frickin' annoying.

To further shatter the façade, our “nude” victims are clearly wearing flesh colored underwear. I mean, COME ON, GUYS. You come at us with all your hardcore warnings and you can’t even get your actors to lose their drawers? I mean, WE CAN SEE IT. IN SEVERAL SHOTS. It’s a problem, especially for a supposedly found footage piece. And if we can see it, then so could you, which means you chose to just let it go and hoped no one would notice, which curries no goodwill from here.

Click to enlarge photo and see the waistbands in all their glory.

Returning to the plus side of the scale, there’s the Lee/Roof audio commentary track, in which the directors unveil quite a number of interesting DIY innovations and justifications for their narrative choices, which viewers may or may not agree with, but at least they were bona-fide choices instead of just laziness. The other extras include a “Studio Red” gag reel (the “outtakes” from Ed and Susan’s previous handiwork), SR’s “sizzle reel,” and a promotional trailer (which contains much of the sizzle reel material).

As you’ve probably surmised, this is a mixed bag offering for whom the target audience is a bit of a mystery. On the one hand, Lee and Roof have managed to make a competent found-footage torture film. On the other, so have dozens of other enterprising independents. Sooooo, if that’s your bag, then by all means, pick this one up. But beyond that presumably (hopefully?) small cadre, I can’t advise any discriminating horror fan to knock on this House’s door.

The House with 100 Eyes is available June 16 from Artsploitation Films, and can be pre-ordered HERE:

http://www.artsploitationfilms.com/film/the-house-with-100-eyes/

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Der Samurai (2014) d.Till Kleinert (Germany)

Police officer Jakob (Michel Diercks) feels trapped in the small rural village he reluctantly calls home. Nights are spent playing cards with his dementia-affected grandmother, days are spent patrolling the sleepy burg where he commands no respect from the local troublemakers. His only duty of personal significance consists of carting bags of meat out to the woods in an attempt to keep a newly reported wolf from drifting too close to town. He’s also a deeply, deeply closeted homosexual, so mortified at the potential disapproval of the locals that he lives in a perpetual state of social catatonia. The arrival of a mysterious package at the police station – and a subsequent phone call from its owner – sends Jakob in pursuit of a flamboyant, well-muscled transvestite psychopath (Pit Bukowski), the mirror image of the young lawman’s isolated existence, an existence that will likely never survive the night.

It’s clear that writer/director Kleinert is less interested in striking terror in our hearts than he is in stimulating our aesthetic senses and mental synapses, but he’s also no slouch in building tension and providing release. The phrase “art-house horror” gets tossed around handily these days, but rarely has it seemed as applicable. The lyrical elegance of Martin Hanslmayr’s skilled and swirling cinematography highlights the forest greens as eloquently as the sanguinary exploits of our blonde Katana-wielding figure in white. The overall production design is so well-realized, consciously commanding attention without glossiness for its own glossy sake, that a sense of trust is quickly established between the creative team and the viewer, allowing us to easily connect to the heightened dramatic and thematic elements to follow.

Jakob’s defenses rise and fall as he trails and confronts The Samurai; he is both pursuer and pursued, deeply ambivalent about a quarry he is equally attracted to and repulsed by. I won’t begin to pretend to know or understand Kleinert’s specific sexual politics or statements, but he definitely isn’t shy about starting the conversation, and anyone willing to engage with the film cannot help but be drawn in. This is not a passive artistic statement, but a challenge – just as The Samurai encourages Jakob – to dance the dance, to partner and share, to give and take, to lose our heads (literally and/or figuratively) and achieve freedom for our inner selves.

Many reviewers have commented on the occasionally overwhelming symbolism; anyone who misses out on Jakob’s unspoken sexual identity struggles (or how his inner id is represented by The Samurai or the wolf’s inherent wildness representing the young man’s burgeoning thirst for an authentic life or…) is either half-asleep or running back and forth to the refreshment stand.

Even so, I’m willing to embrace and/or endure the rampant onscreen metaphors since no one ever comes right out and utters the subtext aloud, entrusting viewers to interpret for themselves. Less easy to swallow are the hammer-heavy pop song musical cues, a bit too on-the-snout for my tastes. (The closing slo-mo image of Jakob charging the camera will be a challenging one for viewers with its naked sentiment, especially those not watching in solemn solitude; the other unintentional laughter bait being the awkwardly intimate rhythmic duel between the Samurai and Jakob.)

But none of this high-minded material would stay afloat were it not for the strength of the central performances. Diercks peels back layer after layer, evolving from frustrated, insecure pretender to worthy adversary, sloughing off conceits of “decency” and “responsible citizen” in favor of an authentic life lived fully, even at the price of his social acceptance and/or sanity. Bukowski is a tightly coiled force of nature, exuding danger and sensuality with every physical gesture, every facial expression. With scarred upper lip spreading wide over a lipstick-accented smile, the actor oozes charisma and charm throughout; rather than an androgynous entity with both sexes muted, his masculinity burns brightly through his female trappings. (The two performers are perfectly paired in this respect, with the softer, sensitive Diercks hiding behind his badge and uniform.)

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BEGIN SPOILERS

As impressive as the performances and technical elements are, what sets Der Samurai apart is its adroit tweaking of convention in the final reel. What seems to be drifting cozily into now-familiar Fight Club terrain, where our protagonist and antagonist are revealed to be one and the same, is upended by an impressive thwarting of expectations. At the moment where Jakob’s fellow officers arrive on the scene, where he has picked up the sword and is holding it in a threatening manner over The Samurai, as they tell him to “Drop the weapon!”, we KNOW what the ensuing reverse shot will be: The camera will rise to follow Jakob’s gaze and he/we will see that he’s all alone. There never was a Samurai. He has created this monstrous alter ego to allow his id to run free, to attack those he despises for their close-mindedness. Jakob will be accused of the Samurai’s violent crimes, but it’s a worthy price for the shedding of his social mask. We’re totally prepared for the completely unsurprising twist ending...

...then it’s revealed that, no, The Samurai is real. The other cops can see him. They handcuff him and throw him in the back of the squad car to face justice, with Jakob riding behind in a follower.

At this point, our brains are exploding. “What do you mean they’re not the same person???” Everything that has gone before has pointed in that direction, and even though it’s what savvy viewers have predicted for the last 45 minutes (whilst patting ourselves on the back for being so observant and cinematically well-versed), we’re prepared to accept the reveal. Kleinert has delivered a quality, well-produced character study that logistically holds up, augmented by occasional lashings of gore. The last thing we expect is that the events playing out before us are to be taken at face value, and yet, this seems to be the case. It’s a spectacularly ballsy twist-on-a-twist, one that will leave more than a few scratching their heads and eager to discuss various interpretations as the final credits roll.

Yes, it’s possible that for the last 15 minutes, we’re in High Tension’s “unreliable narrator” land, where what we’re seeing is ABSOLUTELY not what’s happening and we’re left to divine the “truth” for ourselves. It’s also possible that what we’re seeing is the truth, in all its Hitcher-esque glory. It’s even possible that the events depicted are a nimble combination of the two. Yet, somehow, all this ambiguity proves more stimulating than frustrating – we sense that Kleinert knows exactly what he wants to say, that there is a “what really happened,” but it’s left deliberately vague such that we can/must hammer it out on our own.

END SPOILERS

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Artsploitation Films’ Blu-ray presentation is sharp and clean, with an audio commentary by Kleinert and producer Linus de Paoli that reveals the project was originally commissioned for German television before the final product spooked production heads, who opted instead for a feature presentation. The two don’t delve too deeply into explanatory or interpretational territory – those hoping to have things spelled out will be disappointed – but there is plenty of juicy material in their discussions of “not always the easiest to work with” Bukowski, and the revelation of this being Dierck’s feature film debut. There is also a trailer and a short but quite illuminating making-of piece, where we learn the story’s origin as a nightmare Kleinert had years before of an exotic, faceless figure trailing a long blade behind it, as well as several "cheats" incorporated to achieve the desired effects. (Especially love the bits about the train and running through the forest sequences.)

Der Samurai is available June 9 from Artsploitation Films and can be ordered HERE:

http://www.artsploitationfilms.com/film/der-samurai/

Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers (1988) d. Michael A. Simpson (USA)

Five years after the tragic events of the first film, Angela Baker, er, Johnson (Pamela Springsteen) is back in action, having finally been released from the mental asylum where she was committed for her crimes. With her new identity (and a rumored sex change), she is enjoying her first summer of freedom by becoming an uber-positive counselor at Camp Rolling Hills (located just down the road from Camp Arawak). Angela thrives on healthy, wholesome pursuits like crafting and nature trails, and is disappointed when her fellow Rollers decide they’d rather engage in sex, drugs, sex, trash talk, sex, and sex. Hoping to keep her woodland sanctuary clean and pure, she sunnily dispenses with the deviants with a smile on her face, the “I’m a Happy Camper” song in her heart, and a variety of sharp implements in hand.

As detailed in last summer’s review for Sleepaway Camp (1983), I wasn’t much of a fan of the first film on first viewing, and as such, I was in no hurry to track down its progeny. However, being the shameless completist that I am (and with my buddy Adam Rockoff having charged me with watching his DVD collection for the duration of his tender offspring’s more impressionable years), I found myself with the sequels within arm’s reach and a free night on the couch. I figured what the hell, tossed in SC2, and was quite pleasantly surprised at how much more entertaining a movie it was than its predecessor.

Much of the credit goes to director Simpson and screenwriter Fritz Gordon (the two SC sequels being his only credits), who decided that, rather than cranking out another tired slasher sequel, they would send up the entire subgenre with (deliberately) paper-thin characters and an outrageous variety of creative kills. Shot in two weeks at an abandoned YMCA Camp (Camp Waco) outside Atlanta, Springsteen (yes, Bruce’s little sister) does in her victims with power drills, chainsaws, Krueger razor-gloves, guitar strings, lighter fluid, battery acid, pit toilets, knives, and when all else fails, she conks ’em on the head with a nearby stick or log. These varied offings are gruesomely detailed, with Bill “Splat” Johnson’s bloody effects taking center stage as intended, all done with a jovial spirit and energy.

It also helps that Simpson and Gordon put their “don’t take this seriously” cards on the table early, with a string of disposable supporting characters all named after youngish 1980s celebrities, Brat Pack and beyond: Molly (Ringwald), Sean (Penn), Ally (Sheedy), Mare (Winningham), Rob (Lowe), Demi (Moore), Lea (Thompson), Brooke (Shields), Jodie (Foster), Anthony (Michael Hall), Judd (Nelson), Charlie (Sheen), Phoebe (Cates), Emilio (Estevez), Diane (Lane), Tom “TC” (Cruise) , and “Uncle John” (Hughes). In an interesting stroke of casting, Terry Hobbs as “Rob” looks an awful lot like Anthony Michael Hall, and Renee Estevez is the younger sister of Charlie Sheen and Emilio Estevez.

"A brain, a jock, a stoner, a basket case..."

The script isn’t inherently fulla yuks, but the tone is kept light and the performers all commit fully to their archetypes such that we immediately identify and enjoy them to varying degrees. (Brian Patrick Clarke sports an amaaaaaaaaazing mullet as our head counselor TC.)

There are also a welcome number of topless shenanigans, with an appreciable amount of skin shown by both sexes (with top-popping honors going to Valerie Hartman as the salacious Ally), and veteran character actor and regular 007 film staple Walter Gotell plays the camp’s taciturn owner with many a wandering accent (New Yawk, British, Southern).

But it is Springsteen who is the key to the film’s success, her buoyant characterization yielding a psycho with a smile, one eager to please and quick to pass moral judgment.

For Shout! Factory's new Collector's Edition Blu-ray release, the commentary by Gordon, Simpson, and UK lad John Klyza, the webmaster of sleepawaycampfilms.com was originally recorded for Anchor Bay's Sleepaway Camp Survival Kit release in 2002 (tipped off by Simpson’s offhand comment about Estevez being “currently on The West Wing,” which ended its run in 2006). Gordon and Klyza trade off the comic repartee, with Simpson playing straight man throughout.

However, Klyza is full of worthy information, as befits his vocation, often offering info rather than trying to elicit it from his on-mike partners. He might come off as a little bit of a know-it-all, with his shotgun joke approach and a lot of throwaway comments, but I’d rather have the info than not. At times, he pokes a little deeper than is comfortable for his cohorts, and occasionally there is pushback and/or Fifth Amendment pleading, but more often than not, he comes up with the gold. SALUTE!

“A Tale of Two Sequels: Part One” is a 30-min. making-of retrospective courtesy of Michael Felsher’s Red Shirt Pictures (not sure why the elaborate VHS format intro, but it’s fun… I guess), with Jeff Hayes of sleepawaycampmovies.com, Simpson, editor John David Allen, DP Bill Mills, art director Frank Galline, makeup man Bill “Splat” Johnson, along with behind-the-scenes footage, and Amy Fields (Jodi Schote, who played the younger of the film’s trashy “Shote Sisters”) reminiscing warmly about their time in the woods together.

The satisfyingly self-explanatory “Abandoned: The Filming Locations of Sleepaway Camp II and III” with Adam the Woo (of adamthewoo.com) does its thing for those who are into said thing, but my personal tastes lean more toward the 13 minutes of behind-the-scenes footage with Simpson providing chatty if not exactly revelatory commentary.

There’s also the movie’s home video trailer (technically a promotional trailer for video store owners), a still gallery, and a one-minute short film, “Whatever Happened to Molly?” produced by Klyza, and directed by Dustin Ferguson, which actually might provide a chuckle for those in a generous mood.

The package is literally wrapped up by Nathan Thomas Milliner’s cartoonish new artwork, which is a slight improvement upon the original VHS box art, featuring a cover model who isn’t Springsteen and doesn’t appear in the movie!

Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers is available now from Shout! Factory and can be ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/film-comedy/sleepaway-camp-ii-unhappy-campers-collector-s-edition

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Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland (1989) d. Michael A. Simpson (USA)

The second sequel to 1983’s Sleepaway Camp– shot back to back with its immediate predecessor (reviewed here) – sees Angela (Pamela Springsteen back again) bumping off a trampy NYC chick with a garbage truck in order to take her place at an experimental outfit where rich and poor teenagers attempt to discover common (camp)ground. If you’re thinking that Camp New Horizons’ “experience in sharing” probably won’t work out so hot, you’re on the right track.But it serves as the ideal setting for Angela to do what she does best, i.e. thin “immoral” teenagers from the herd, which is what we came here for.

Because screenwriter Fritz Gordon was still working on the script for Teenage Wasteland while Unhappy Campers was being filmed, with only a week separating the wrap of the latter and the starting shoot date of the former, it’s no real surprise that there’s not as much clever being served up at the evening mess hall this time around. In fact, beyond the fact that all of the rich kids have names from The Brady Bunch, the poor ones from West Side Story (in the subtitles, Jill Terashita’s “Arab” is dubbed “Arad ” – clearly our young intern wasn’t a big musical theatre fan), and the grown-ups from The Munsters, it’s essentially a 78-minute string of less-creative-than-before death scenes and one-liners from Springsteeen.

There are a few bright spots, such as a snotty bigoted rich bitch being flown up a flagpole, and the torching of a nylon tent is equally novel in watching just how quickly it all goes up. But on the whole, Bill “Splat” Johnson isn’t given as much leeway and/or time to make the executions as memorably juicy this time around (and what grue he did strew was clipped by an overeager MPAA).

Other than Springsteen, the biggest “name” in the cast is professional weirdo Michael J. Pollard as head honcho Herman, spending his time shamelessly mugging and bizarrely canoodling with Stacie Lambert’s Jan, arguably the hottest of the hot chicks and undeniably the least shy about showing the goods.

Tracy Griffith, younger sister of Melanie, plays our ostensible “good girl” Marcia despite the fact that she has (safe) sex with bad boy Tony (Mark Oliver) and even though she already has a boyfriend back home!

Griffith is curiously billed as “introducing” even though she technically appeared in Abel Ferrara’s Fear City and Leonard Nimoy’s The Good Mother beforehand (as well as Simpson’s Fast Food, which ended up being released before SC3 in 1989). As Herman’s wife and business partner Lily, character actress Sandra Dorsey gets more screen time, but isn’t given much to do other than send the campers off on “trust” exercises and get herself run over by a lawnmower.

In keeping with its older sibling, this installment features plenty of gratuitous boobage, with three separate racks showcased in the first 15 minutes, courtesy of Lambert, Jill Terashita, and Kashina Kessler. (It’s probably worth noting at this time that SC3 remains both Lambert and Kessler’s sole onscreen credit.)

There’s decidedly less male skin shown this time around, although we should probably be thankful for that, considering it’s only Pollard getting lucky. (You gotta wonder if that’s what put Lambert off show business.)

And in the role of "Hot Chick Actually Interested in MJP's Junk," the Oscar goes to...

Because of the shift in seasons, the night shoots got a lot colder for the second sequel, which is why so many of the scenes take place during the daylight hours. (You can clearly see Springsteen and Haynes Brooke’s breath in the “hands off = arms off” scene.) But since these films are less about scares and more about spoof, it’s no great crime.

As with Sleepaway Camp II, the audio commentary (ported over from the 2002 Anchor Bay release) features Simpson and Gordon and is expertly moderated by John Klyza, webmaster for sleepawaycampfilms.com. Klyza is again in fine form although he does step on a few toes; his pointing out some of the film’s technical goofs and logistical errors is often met with awkward silence from the creative team. It’s great intel nonetheless, and his knowledge of the original shooting script and intelligent queries regarding changes made on set are representative of the kind of research future moderators should take to heart. He also makes a few off-color remarks about Griffith, and it’s clear that Simpson carries a bit of a torch for his “discovery” (she originally read for Angela’s role), since he’s not having any of it.

Make another crack about my boo Tracy, fool. I dare you.

The back half of Michael Felsher’s hour-long A Tale of Two Sequels retrospective doc, entitled “Part Two: New Victims, New Horizons,” is replete with continuing interviews with Simpson, DP Bill Mills, editor John David Allen, f/x man Johnson, art director Frank Galline, and actors Mark Oliver (Tony), Dorsey (Lily), Daryl Wilcher (Riff, lover of “rap” music that sounds more like Howard Jones outtakes), and Kim Wall (racist Cindy, she of the flagpole). There’s also a lot of dishing about Pollard’s wacky on-set antics and Oliver’s wistful reminiscences of late-night jam sessions in the meal hall.

The Behind-the-Scenes segment, with commentary by Simpson, details the truck chase of Kessler that opens the film (subsequently creating Angela’s “in” as a camper), with downtown Atlanta standing in for NYC. It’s an impressive stunt, and in the making-of, we see it’s just as close quarters as it looks in the finished product: Real actress, real truck, real street, real alley, real danger.

Probably one of the more intriguing extras is the 84-min workprint (sourced from VHS) before the MPAA’s repeated “X” rating forced many the gore scenes to be excised from the final release. If you’re willing to forgive the occasional lack of dialogue, music score, or sound effects, this is a nice glimpse into Simpson and Johnson’s original vision. However, if you’re just looking for the bloody bits, you can click down to the next section in the Special Features, unveiling 18 minutes of extended scenes with additional gore, most of which are also shown in the Red Shirt doc.

Do yourself a favor and skip the “Tony Lives!” short film, a truly uninspired 1-minute gag “written” and “directed” by Jeff Hayes of sleepawaycampmovies.com, with Mark Oliver reprising his role to zero-to-negative comedic effect. A home video trailer (as with SC2, technically a promotional trailer for video store owners) and an extended still gallery round out the extras.

Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland is available now from Shout! Factory and can be ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/film-comedy/sleepaway-camp-iii-teenage-wasteland-collector-s-edition

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Spider Baby or, The Maddest Story Ever Told (1967) d. Jack Hill (USA)

Horror fans only familiar with Sid Haig from his millennial Rob Zombie flicks or with Lon Chaney, Jr. from his hairy heyday of The Wolf Man should do themselves the favor of experiencing these two genre legends toward the beginning and end of their respective careers. Writer/director Hill’s fascinating blend of macabre humor and bizarre chills revolves around the Merrye family, stricken with a “progressive age regression” disease that leads to childlike behavior and cannibalism. (This was Hill’s first credited feature directing gig, even though it didn’t come out for several years after principal photography had wrapped in 1964.)

The three remaining members of the Merrye family, Ralph (Haig), Elizabeth (Beverly Washburn), and Virginia (Jill Banner), are cared for by family chauffeur Bruno (Chaney), who is kept busy constantly covering up for their less-than-socially acceptable ways. But when a couple of distant relatives, Emily (Carol Ohmart, House on Haunted Hill) and Peter (Quinn K. Redecker), show up with their lawyer Schlocker (Karl Schanzer) and his cute assistant Ann (Mary Michel, Dementia 13) to lay claim to the family inheritance, they find themselves unwittingly drawn into the “children’s” games, with cannibalism, rape, murder, and bondage on the evening’s playlist.

There’s no denying Spider Baby’s low budget origins (witness the reflection of the film crew in Ohmart’s car window at one point), but equally unequivocal is the gentle warmth and humanity folded gently within its macabre subject matter. The enjoyably heightened performances combined with Hill’s dementedly dizzy dialogue add up to a delicious combo of shock and satire, with a justly famous dinner table scene.

That’s Chaney himself singing the oogey-boogey title song composed, along with the rest of the lively melodramatic score, by Ronald Stein, a staff composer at AIP for several years (along with Les Baxter). This is without a doubt one of Chaney’s finest hours within the genre, and the former Universal star makes the most of it, tendering a sweetness and warmth not seen since his breakout role as Lennie in 1939’s Of Mice and Men. Bruno’s lectures to the children on the subtle differences between “good” and “bad” or why “it’s never nice to hate” are sublime in their execution, and Chaney’s final tear-stained sacrifice reminds us what a talent he was when used properly.

Arrow Video’s marvelous Blu-ray release retains many of the jewels served up by DarkSky’s double-disc release from 2007, but also whips up a few new ones to sweeten the deal. For starters, there is a panel discussion featuring Hill, Redeker and Washburn following a screening of Spider Baby in September 2012 at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences FILM-TO-FILM Festival, dedicated to film restoration. It is from this restored, Hill-supervised-and-approved print that the Blu-ray’s transfer was derived, and it’s the best the film has probably ever looked. Indeed, though I’ve seen the film numerous times, this is the first time I noticed the thin drooling line of spittle connecting Haig’s lower lip and the table. The original theatrical trailer is also included.

Of special note to Haig’s legions of fans will be the inclusion of his very first collaboration with Hill, the 1960 western short The Host. The director and star must have gotten along together, as they continued to work together for another seven features. This curio, shot when Hill was a film student at the University of California alongside Francis Ford Coppola, features Haig as a jail house escapee who stumbles upon a strange old squaw residing within a crumbling ruin who invites him. The tale would not seem out of place with a sardonic intro from Twilight Zone’s Rod Serling, and on DarkSky’s Hatching of Spider Baby doc, it’s even intimated that the story serves as the template for the final reel of Coppola’s Apocalypse Now.

Arrow’s packaging features a reversible sleeve with both the original artwork and a newly commissioned cover design by Graham Humphreys. The collector's booklet features essays by artist/writer Stephen R. Bissette, and an extensive re-printed FilmFax article featuring interviews with the cast and crew, illustrated with original artwork.

The vintage DarkSky supplements kick off with the amiable and informative audio commentary between Hill and Haig, with the writer/director quoting often from Dean Sluyter’s big-brained Spider Baby essay from his book, Cinema Nirvana. (Even if many of Sluyter’s assertations are bold interpretative reaches, it doesn’t make them any less pleasurable for movie geeks to mull over.) Hill reveals that the day-rate rental cost of Bruno’s Duesenberg automobile amounted to the same as an actor’s weekly salary ($100), and that the prosthetic ear – made to look as though it were trimmed off ’40s funnyman Mantan Moreland – actually belonged to one of the crew members who would pull it off to throw it in his date’s cocktail if he wasn’t feeling the magic.

Hill also discusses the as-yet-unproduced sequel, tentatively entitled “Vampire Orgy,” which follows Peter and Ann’s ongoing adventures with the supernatural during their honeymoon. Haig’s rumbling baritone shows up less often, but fans should enjoy his bemusedly enthusiastic opining as he reflects upon Ohmart’s fine figure or how his eyes were almost literally popping out whilst being hung upside down outside the starlet’s window for Ralph’s voyeur scene.

The three Elijan Drennan-produced featurettes uncover even more gold, with the aforementioned 32-minute The Hatching of Spider Baby sitting astride the supplemental throne. Hill, Haig, Michel, Redeker, Washburn, Schanzer, DP Alfred Taylor (Killer Klowns from Outer Space), and everyone’s favorite monster kid Joe Dante discuss the quirky film’s genesis, its failed release, its long period in the gray market bootleg wilderness, and its final rediscovery and appreciation by a new generation after Hill and Johnny Legend self-distributed it on VHS in the 1980s.

“Spider Stravinsky: The Cinema Sounds of Ronald Stein” celebrates the underrated composer of numerous AIP efforts, including The Terror and The Premature Burial. His widow Harlene Stein, Hill, American Cinematheque’s Chris D., and others offer long-overdue tribute. Speaking of which, if you enjoyed Stein’s bouncy theme and the opening title caricatures by e.i.p. (who had also illustrated the darkly amusing credits for Corman’s The Little Shop of Horrors), both are showcased once again via the film’s alternate title sequence as Cannibal Orgy.

For “The Merrye House Revisited,” Hill and Drennan revisit the original house used as the main location, which gives an all new appreciation for the director’s skill in concealing the surrounding neighborhood – turns out our creepy mansion was not nearly as isolated as it seemed. The two don’t get to go inside, but since interiors were shot in a studio, it’s no great loss. (Trivia: the same house was later used as the communal lodging in 1979’s Silent Scream.) There’s also an extended scene with Chaney, Michel, and Schanzer in the fabled Duesenberg, which sets up the explosive ending, and an impressive gallery of behind-the-scenes images.

Spider Baby or, The Maddest Story Ever Told is available now on Blu-ray and DVD from Arrow Video and can be ordered HERE:

http://mvdb2b.com/s/SpiderBabyBluRayDVD/MVD7366BR

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Reptilicus (1961) d. Sidney W. Pink (Denmark/USA)

A copper drilling expedition “somewhere in the forbidding tundra mountains of Lapland, above the Arctic Circle” unearths the bloody remains of a prehistoric organism. The massive frozen fossil is brought to Copenhagen for study, but when it is accidentally thawed out, the scientific collective is amazed to discover that the drill wound is beginning to heal itself. In other words, the slab of flesh is alive! The eggheads theorize the creature is akin to a starfish, and that from its severed limb it will regrow an entirely new organism. So they do what anyone would do: Name it “Reptilicus,” build a big tank, toss it in, and wait to see what it grows up to be. Unfortunately, the results are a green-skinned, acid-spewing dragonian menace that proceeds to break out of its institutional fetters, bobbing and weaving its way across the Danish countryside.

Producer/director Pink co-wrote this standard monster-on-the-loose programmer with Ib Melchior (Angry Red Planet, Robinson Crusoe on Mars), and then headed off to Denmark to shoot with an all-local cast and crew. There was clearly a lot of cooperation shown to Pink, with extravagant military exercises staged for the camera’s benefit and huge scenes of terrified mobs fleeing the monster by jumping over raised bridges.

Like many foreign films designed for international markets, actors would shoot alternating takes, one in their native tongue and one in English. (All of the latter scenes were later overdubbed in the studio, but it’s clear the Danish actors are doing their able best to speak the lines as written, even if the result is a little on the stiff side.)

However, it is for its lackluster monster scenes, shoddy rear projection, and not-so-special effects that the film is best remembered and rightly so. (Clips of the film would occasionally show up on The Monkees television series, which is where this writer first encountered it.) Similar to The Giant Claw’s buzzard puppet, this misguided marionette monster is clearly being jerked around on wires while its flapjaw puppet mouth works overtime. The animated glowing green acid slime was added by Melchior for the U.S. release (more on that in a second), as was the did-I-just-see-that moment where a cut-out cartoon of a victim is shown being picked up and sent sliding down the monster’s throat.

There’s not really much to be said about the performances, as they are no better or worse than their American counterparts from the 50-60s sci-fi/horror heyday. As U.S. General Mark Grayson, Carl Ottosen is all authoritarian bluster, directing his troops to blow the beast up before being reminded that if he does so, there will be hundreds of little Reptilicus pieces lying all over the Danish countryside, each growing into a brand new monster.

There are a couple stuffy scientists (Poul Wildaker, Asbjorn Andersen), one of whom has the requisite lovely and resourceful daughter (Ann Smyrner), and there is the requisite handsome young scientist (Bent Mejding) with whom she can fall in love. Danish songbird Berthe Wilke appears as herself in a nightclub scene where she regales us with “Tivoli Nights.”

Finally, we have the inevitable comic relief in the form of Peterson (Dirch Passer), a bumpkin in flannel and overalls whose first appearance pretty much screams “incompetent boob poised to ruin everything.” Shockingly, he is not the one who accidentally allows the tail piece to thaw and subsequently awaken – it is one of the scientists who falls asleep while working late – which begs the question as to why Peterson’s character is even in the film since he never actually does anything heroic or inadvertently problematic. According to Bill Warren’s colossal tome Keep Watching the Skies!, Passer had many more “comic” scenes in the Danish version and even performed a song dedicated to the monster, entitled “Tilicus,” with some children. Sorry you missed that, aren’t you?

On that note, comparable to Gojira and Godzilla, King of the Monsters, two separate films were ultimately produced, with production manager Poul Bang handling the Danish version. Scenes featuring the monster in flight were cut for the American release, so you can only imagine how bad those must have been. (I mean, AIP cutting monster footage??? Seriously, stop and consider that one for a second.)

Believe it or not, there were even more scenes showcasing the tourist values of Denmark in the hometown version as opposed to the five-minute travelogue that graces the AIP print. (This likely accounts for that version’s slightly longer running time of 90 minutes.) Finally, the role of Dr. Connie Miller, played by Marla Behrens in the American version, was played by a completely different actress, Bodil Miller!

Shout! Factory’s release isn’t packed with supplemental material, but it does include a fine array of poster art and production/publicity stills in a photo gallery, as well as a theatrical trailer and radio spot.

With its wildly implausible but unique origin story and zany creature effects, entertainment value will be directly proportional to each viewer’s individual tolerance for cheesy monster movies. This one earned itself a slot at Kitley’s Krypt’s annual Turkey Day Marathon back in 2010, and a fine time was had by all. What higher recommendation can we offer?

This pic again. Just because.

Reptilicus is available now on Blu-ray (paired with another Turkey Day veteran, Tentacles) from Shout! Factory and can be ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/film-horror/tentacles-reptilicus-double-feature

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Tentacles (1977) d. Ovidio G. Assonitis (Italy/USA)

A drunk old fisherman and a 10-month-old infant both go mysteriously missing in separate incidents in the same week near Solana Beach, a seaside tourist community, later turning up completely drained of fluids (including the bone marrow). Investigative reporter Ned Turner (John Huston) smells a story in the offing, suspecting a connection to moneybags developer Mr. Whitehead (Henry Fonda) and his Trojan Construction company’s underwater tunnel project off the coast. In an effort to find out what could be causing the deaths, Turner seeks out the assistance of renowned marine biologist Will Gleason (Bo Hopkins), presently stationed at a Sea World-type outfit training killer whales. Gleason theorizes that it could be a giant octopus, up in arms (cue rimshot) over Trojan’s disturbance of the ocean floor fauna. But will they be able to stop the grotesque grabber before the summer’s big tourist event (a massive sailboat race) or will the suckers get suckered?

Obviously working from the Jaws playbook, this AIP release substitutes a cheesed cephalopod in the place of Bruce the Shark. Set in California (and shot in Italy), producer/director Assonitis and his three screenwriters (Steven W. Carabatsos, Tito Carpi, Jerome Max) aren’t shy about knocking off the younger set to up the ante - kids stolen out of strollers! - but they don’t seem to have a clue how to build a Spielbergian aura of suspense. Instead, we get a lot of chit-chat about who knew what about which construction project, none of which ever really adds up to anything, and waaaaay too much time with Turner’s boozy sister Tillie (Shelley Winters, in her full-on obnoxious ’70s harridan wheelhouse) haranguing her son leading up to the big race.

“Wow, there’s a lot of Hollywood star power here,” you’re saying about now, and you’d be right. But the sad fact is that everyone is just there to cash a check, with only Hopkins emotionally invested in the proceedings at hand and that’s only after the eight-legged terror puts the squeeze on his honey pie wife Vicki (Delia Boccardo). Huston, who teamed again with Assonitis (as producer) for 1979’s The Visitor, is coasting hard, but he’s running circles around Fonda’s vacant impersonation of piqued authority – it’s obvious the Hollywood veteran had only learned his lines a few minutes beforehand and was on set for all of a day... if that.

"And that's all the lines I can remember right now... at this price."

Claude Akins is similarly disinterested as the local badge while Winters – sporting an inordinate array of ridiculous headwear – is nails on a chalkboard for her every onscreen second.

Tellingly, all of the headliners have disappeared from the action by the time we hit the final reel, not victims of the killer ’pus, but simply because Assonitis couldn’t afford to keep them around any longer. Only Gleason and his Oceanside Institute buddy Mike (Alan Boyd) remain to do battle, whereupon they bring out the big guns, er, fins. Yep, that’s right, the wet-suited Southerner persuades his killer whale pals, Summer and Winter, to put the bite on The Inky One, but only after he delivers a super-earnest and unintentionally hilarious pre-attack motivational speech/confessional. Seriously, one for the ages, folks.

In keeping with Jaws, the titular Tentacles has its own theme music courtesy of prolific genre staple Stelvio Cipriani (Bay of Blood, Pieces, Nightmare City), an admittedly memorable and entertaining blend of harpsichord and horns. (I also enjoyed the fact that our creepy cephalopod makes a roaring underwater sound every time it closes in on its next victim.) The rest of Cipriani’s score is a little iffy, ranging from repetitious to wildly inappropriate, but his two main themes are winners.

Overall, this is a sloppy, schlocky affair that manages to be entertaining in spite of itself, more for the misses than the hits. Outside of our stars, the remaining roles are filled by Italian actors whose performances are dubbed (badly), while our octopus effects are a combo of aquarium footage and some fair-to-middling miniature work.

The centerpiece sailboat sequence is punctuated by bizarre freeze frames and an even more bizarre comedy routine told by a man in an Uncle Sam suit while Tillie tries to raise her boy on the walkie talkie. (Seriously, I want to hear the punchline to the Scotsman joke!) And when the octopus comes racing toward the fleet of boats, its head cruising through the water, kaiju fans can’t help but smile, reminded of a similar image of Hedorah from Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster.

Much like the film it’s paired with on Shout! Factory’s recent release, Reptilicus, this one has found its way into the Kitley’s Krypt annual Turkey Day Marathon back in 2006, and I think the only reason we didn’t enjoy it more was that we were a) already a little exhausted from the day’s efforts and b) back then it was only Jon and I so there wasn’t that same sense of collective energy. Watching it again this time, I was genuinely surprised that we were so hard on it, because, doggone it, this is Prime Gobbler Material.

If for no other reason than the opportunity for reassessment, I’m extremely thankful for Shout! Factory's having putting it out on Blu-ray this week. There aren’t a lot of supplements (photo gallery, theatrical trailer, radio spot), but it’s still a fine slice of Jawsploitation, and probably on the only one to conclude with a tag-team orca attack going mano-a-mano-a-mano-a-mano-a-mano-a-mano-a-mano-a-mano with Captain Calamari.

Tentacles is available now from Shout! Factory (as a double feature with Reptilicus) can be ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/film-horror/tentacles-reptilicus-double-feature

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Let Us Prey (2014) d. Brian O’Malley (UK/Ireland)

Her first night in the sleepy burg to which she’s been reassigned, Constable Rachel Heggie (Pollyanna McIntosh) arrives just in time to witness a hit-and-run accident in the street; as she approaches to arrest the perpetrator (Brian Vernel), it quickly becomes apparent that the victim has somehow disappeared. She brings the young hoodlum to the police station regardless, encountering a none-too-welcoming committee in the form of staff sergeant Macready (Douglas Russell) and his two on-duty comrades in blue, the emotionally entwined Warnock (Bryan Larkin) and Mundie (Hannah Stanbridge). Our hit-and-run punching bag is ultimately discovered and recovered, sporting a superficial wound to the forehead and a decided unwillingness to chat about his identity or purpose. After the local twitchy sawbones is nearly driven mad by the very presence of the stranger, Macready locks the nameless bearded gent in the cells to keep company with his vehicular assailant, a wife-beating schoolteacher, and the now-bonkers doc. The night is off to a grand start, and as the clock ticks down toward midnight, things only get weirder and wilder as each of the inhabitants – on both sides of the bars – find their deepest, darkest secrets laid bare by the man in Cell Six....

Flipping the setting of John Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13 by placing the menace inside the police station, screenwriters David Cairns and Fiona Watson deliver a well-polished thriller filled with flawed human characters facing off against a disturbingly powerful, apparently supernatural antagonist and one another. Director O’Malley, making his feature debut, certainly knows his way around an action scene and has done himself and the viewer a great boon by peopling the fantastic scenario with a killer cast.

Veteran character actor Cunningham wisely underplays the menace, allowing his natural screen presence to do the heavy lifting and trusting O’Malley and the rest of the ensemble to imbue Six with all the power and awe he deserves. McIntosh, such a force of nature in Lucky McKee’s The Woman, is perfect as PC Heggie, a flinty, no-nonsense exterior shielding emotional scars and baggage both recent and distant. As our square-jawed man-in-command, Russell conjures images of Willem Dafoe with hollowed cheeks and deep-set eyes, his scarred visage blazing with intensity. Alongside Cunningham, he seems to be having the most fun, the bombastic yang to Six’s taciturn ying. The rest of the cast tender fine performances across the board, each dropping their respective masks in turn to reveal the beasts beneath.

The production values are equally impressive, with Piers McGrail’s cinematography elevating the project above its presumably tight purse strings. Speaking of visuals, gorehounds will be pleased as Steph Smith serves up an array of splattery shock effects: table legs through eyes, heads bashed against cell block bars, throats slashed, bodies blasted by shotguns, and other gruesome treats. It’s an artful blend of computer-generated and practical effects that feels (mostly) organic, and while there’s nothing here well-traveled fans won’t have seen before, there are enough sanguinary treats to keep the cheers going.

The strength of Cairns and Watson’s script lies in its reveals, particularly with regard to McIntosh’s character, harboring a laundry list of issues beneath her cool exterior. Clearly a dark force to be reckoned with, there’s an inherent mystery to Cunningham’s Six and his unspoken purpose, but the ultimate revelation of his identity and connection to all concerned is a pleasing one that should keep wheels turning in viewers’ minds after the ending credits roll. If there’s a complaint to be lodged, it’s that with the exception of this final reel twist, not much new narrative ground is broken; still, it’s all done with such professionalism and proficiency that no one will have any regrets about having invested time or money. Prey is an excellent genre programmer that announces the arrival of fresh talent on both sides of the camera, and reminds us what assets Cunningham and McIntosh are to the genre.

DarkSky Films’ Blu-ray release doesn’t have much in the way of extras, but the behind-the-scenes making-of featurette packs a surprising amount of info and energy into its tidy 10-minute package. Nearly all the major cast members, O’Malley, producers John McDonnell and Brendan McCarthy, F/X queen Smith, and McGrail all get their respective moments of being cornered by the on-set documentarians, expressing admiration for their fearless leader and one another.

Let Us Prey is available now from Dark Sky Films on Blu-ray, DVD, and downloadable digital and can be ordered HERE:

http://www.amazon.com/Let-Us-Prey-Liam-Cunningham/dp/B00TQGGH10

Dog Soldiers (2002) d. Neil Marshall (UK)

Dispatched to the Scottish Highlands, a half-dozen soldiers find their special training maneuver exercises interrupted by a S.O.S. signal flare. Upon arrival at the distress site, they discover the sole remaining member of a Special Ops team, Captain Ryan (Liam Cunningham), raving and bleeding profusely. Moments later, the team is besieged by mysterious, snarling assailants that decimate one of their number and leave their leader, Sgt. Harry G. Wells (Sean Pertwee), grievously wounded. Their panicked retreat under the command of Pvt. Cooper (Kevin McKidd) leads to a chance encounter with a local woman, Megan (Emma Cleasby), who helps them escape to a secluded cabin in the woods. Low on ammo and facing periodic but increasingly effective attacks, the pinned-down troops must use their every resource to combat the lycanthropic menace until the full moon sets.

Dog Soldiers first rolled onto the direct-to-DVD scene in the U.S. with little fanfare in late 2002, despite having enjoyed a vibrant festival run and theatrical releases in pretty much every other foreign market. I was still a bit internet-shy and not yet a steadfast subscriber to the likes of Fangoria, Rue Morgue, and the like; as such, I hadn’t heard much buzz. Indeed, all I had to go on was the murky werewolf-adorned cover art, boasting a “Jaws, Aliens, and Predator, with a werewolf twist” quote from The Face (who?) and promotional verbiage calling it, “A terrifying chiller in the tradition of Predator and An American Werewolf in London.” Now, some might be suckered in by this passel of elevator-pitch blurbs, but not this discriminating horror fan, darn it. When the best a promoter can say is that a flick is derivative of a bunch of other flicks, I’m not their huckleberry.

However, during the summer of 2004, I found myself in Lincoln, NE, doing an understudy gig, which meant I had a LOT of spare time on my hands. Meanwhile, Blockbuster Video was running their all-you-can-watch membership promotion where you paid $20/month and could have three movies out at a time with no additional charges. You can probably guess what happened next: I proceeded to watch three movies a day (and sometimes more) every day and burned through their horror section pretty quickly. Having passed over it the first three dozen visits, I finally, and with no small degree of reluctance, grabbed Dog Soldiers, figuring I might as well get it over with.

Surprise, surprise. I loved this fricking movie. I loved the performances, the wooded Luxembourg locations (standing in for Scotland), the camaraderie, David Bonneywell’s awesome werewolf designs, the coarse British laddiness (lad-ness?) of it all, the frenetic energy, and the dark humor that coursed through its 105-minute running time. As fate would have it, 2004 was also the summer I discovered Ginger Snaps which similarly impressed me. After an endless string of substandard Howling sequels, that goddawful American Werewolf in Paris, and so-so efforts like Silver Bullet and Bad Moon, it seemed folks had finally figured out how to make a decent shapeshifting flick. (Granted, they promptly forgot, but there was a moment and it was glorious.)

It was on the strength of this film that I led the charge to see The Descent the following summer, wanting to see more of what this Neil Marshall character had in store. Happily, his sophomore effort was graced with a worthy theatrical release courtesy of Lionsgate and was well-received by critics and audiences alike. Of course, he then proceeded to blow all said goodwill with his bombastic 28 Days Later-meets-Escape from New York-meets Mad Max mash-up Doomsday, but I digress.

Shout! Factory had originally announced they would be bringing Dog Soldiers to Blu-ray last summer, but due to a rights issue, we’ve had to wait a full year. However, that time was well spent; this Collector’s Edition BR/DVD release is packed to the dripping jaws with extras and the new 2K scan has been personally supervised by writer/director Marshall himself. (More on that in a second.) But even without all the bells and whistles, this would be a worthwhile acquisition simply for the high-def version of the film itself. Those name-dropping promotional quotes aren’t far off – there’s an awful lot of tribute/homage paid by Marshall to the films he grew up loving, including Night of the Living Dead, Evil Dead, Assault on Precinct 13, Rio Bravo, and Aliens... lots and lots of Aliens. (There’s also the now-classic Matrix quote that I won’t spoil for the uninitiated, but you’ll know it when you hear it.) But the good news is that Marshall has created a cracking feature in its own right as opposed to simply pulling a Bruno Mattei rip-off; the references don’t distract so much as enhance the viewing experience.

In addition to Marshall’s expectedly excellent commentary, newly recorded for the Shout! Factory release (I’ve not heard either of the two tracks that graced the UK release over a decade ago, but by all reports, they’re pretty enjoyable, especially the one featuring Cunningham, Pertwee, McKidd, and Marshall), the prime gravy comes in the form of Aine Leicht’s superb and comprehensive retrospective “Werewolves vs. Soldiers: The Making of Dog Soldiers” which clocks in at just under an hour. Leicht’s team tagged four countries in the process of collecting interviews from the cast and crew, with truly magnificent results. On hand are Marshall, production designer Simon Bowles, DP Sam McCurdy, special effects supervisisor and creature designer Bonneywell, FX legend Bob Keen (Hellraiser), producer Christopher Figg (also Hellraiser), and actors McKidd, Cunningham, Pertwee, Cleasby, Leslie Simpson, and the scene-stealing, macho grunt Pvt. Witherspoon himself, Darren Morfitt.

Also included is the “A Cottage in the Woods” featurette, a look at the model of the sets created by Bowles (a lovely bit of production design geekery, two still galleries, a theatrical trailer, and Marshall’s short film Combat, which takes a humorous look at the pub pickup scene and the battle of the sexes.

Now to address the “controversy” over the quality of the transfer. For the record, it looks perfectly fine to me; unless you are a bitmap nerd, you’ll probably never even notice. But there are those out there who have been quite vocal in their discontent, posting less-than-professional hate messages on Shout! Factory’s Facebook page. In response, here is the official statement from Marshall for viewers’ edification, also taken verbatim from Shout’s Scream Factory FB page:

“It seems myself and Scream Factory are experiencing some major flack regarding the Dog Soldiers blu-ray release. So I figure I should fill in a bit of background here. First of all, I wholeheartedly support the Scream Factory release. The previous blu-ray (not available in the UK) was made without any involvement from me, and I remember when it came out the general consensus was that the picture quality was not great. All credit to Scream Factory for wanting to involve the film-maker in this process as much as possible.

“When they first announced this blu-ray release last year, the original plan was to work with me to create a whole bunch of original extras based on new interviews with all the key cast and crew, but that the movie itself would essentially be the same version as last time. I asked them to delay the release because I felt that we could do better for the fans and try and track down some original film elements to make a fresh HD transfer. Since the movie never received a theatrical release in the US (although I believe it screened at The Egyptian for a week) I knew we’d have to turn to the UK to find the best possible elements available.

“What I didn’t know was that after an exhaustive search I’d discover the original negative was nowhere to be found. Neither the UK producer, distributor or film processing lab has any idea where the negative is. Without it we simply could not achieve the kind of high quality HD transfer I would have wished to deliver. Instead we managed to get hold of 2 original cinema prints, and despite being 13 years old and having a few scratches here and there, they represent the most accurate version of the original theatrical release that we could find.

“However, as close as they are, they are just cinema prints, and in terms of colour timing for the new blu-ray we were limited to the parameters of the print itself. Which means, in basic terms, if the contrast is high on the print and the blacks are crushed (as indeed they are) then there is no more visual information to be gained from them. You can’t brighten up the image and see what’s hidden in the darkness like you can when you’re working from the negative or from digital. All that will happen is that the black will turn to grey and just give the movie a washed out flat look.

“Another issue seems to be that one scene in particular now seems to be a daytime scene when it used to be a nighttime scene. Well, this is wrong on both counts. It’s meant to be a dusk scene, and since it features shots of the sunset then it’s graded accordingly - with a warm sunset glow that then gets cooler and darker as it fades into night. Again, this is all taken directly from the print. It was never intended to have such an extreme dark blue tint over it. We had major continuity issues filming this sequence because the weather kept changing from dull grey and rainy to bright sunlight. This is far from ideal for pulling off convincing day-for-night photography.

“Like it or not, when the movie was originally released in the UK in 2002, the blacks were crushed, the contrast was high, the colours were rich and the image was grainy as fuck, because let’s not forget, this movie was shot on 16mm and blown up to 35mm. So under no circumstances was a blu-ray of this movie ever going to look as smooth and pristine as a movie shot on 35mm or any of the hi-res digital formats we use today. In fact, transferring it to HD actually highlights the grain just as it does any other detail, so this version inherently looks more grainy than before. It’s unavoidable unless you have the money to do a full restoration and clean-up, but again, you need the negative for that.

“So, is this version of Dog Soldiers the best it could ever be? No. Of course not. If we had the negative and a shit-load of cash we could have done a lot better. Is it the best it could be under the circumstances? Yes. Will it appeal to everybody? No. But that's movies for you!

“At the end of the day everybody involved, myself included, put in a lot of work to give the fans a blu-ray worth forking out their hard-earned cash for. And nobody involved, myself included, got paid anything for doing it. There are no royalties, ancillaries or anything else. This is not an attempt to exploit the fans. It was, on my part, an attempt to give the fans something new and unique, and not simply a repackaged version of what’s already out there.”

NEIL MARSHALL

So, there you go.

Dog Soldiers is available now from Shout! Factory (with new cover art by Nathan Thomas Milliner) and can be ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/action-adventure/dog-soldiers-collector-s-edition

Horsehead (2014) d. (France)

Estranged from her mother (Catriona MacColl) for many years, Jessica (Lilly-Fleur Pointeaux) is called home for her grandmother’s wake. The reception is chilly to say the least, made all the more so by the young university student being placed in the room adjacent to her late relative’s corpse, but her current professor and beau sees this as an opportunity to confront some long-standing emotional issues. You see, Jessica hasn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep in many years, haunted by nightmares featuring an enormous, malevolent horse-headed figure bedecked in long robes with clawed digits clutching an enormous papal staff. As a disciple of oneirology – the study of dreams – Jessica has identified the symbolism of her equine phantom as that of a ferryman, poised to travel back and forth between the realm of the living and dead. In slumber, she is now visited by the spirit of her grandmother Rose (Gala Besson), young and frightened, seeking help from the gathering darkness....

Inspired by the “pure cinema” of Lucio Fulci, where logical narrative is secondary to emotional triggers and memorable visuals, and the gorgeous cinematic aesthetics of Mario Bava and Dario Argento, with their hypnotic if nonsensical lighting schemes, director/co-writer Basset has delivered an extraordinarily ambitious if not entirely cohesive first feature. In following the path of these Italian maestros, it is almost guaranteed that Horsehead will not appeal to all (or even most) Western tastes, coddled as we are with safe Hollywood product and spoon-fed narratives.

However, for the more daring and forgiving cinephile, there are resplendent visual rewards to be found in the erotic and violent dream-world tapestries unfurling within Jessica’s subconscious mind. There is definitely a music video motif at work, similar to Tarsem Singh’s The Cell, but it works well within this setting and it is during these haunting sequences the film really finds its stride. (Basset earned “Best Director” honors at this year’s Fantasporto Film Festival.)

This is another terrific acquisition from Artsploitation Films, in that it suits their mission statement to a T. Yes, there is gratuitous female nudity, but it is just as often bathed in blue and red gels as not, lending it a heightened and symbolic nature. Yes, there are instances of graphic gore and bloodletting, but they are staged in imaginative and, dare I say, beautiful fashion. Yes, there are scares and scenes designed to discomfit, but all in the service of an emotional journey of a broken family looking to heal itself. Like its recent release of Der Samurai, this is a worthy combination of art-house film and grindhouse programmer, one that will challenge fans of both camps, as well as those residing in the safer middle ground.

Basset’s efforts will likely frustrate as many as it satisfies – many of the “real world” scenes are doused in melodrama and on-the-nose declarations, with performances that don’t always feel grounded. But the same could be said of the works the young filmmaker is seeking to emulate, and as such, the same generosity afforded those efforts should be granted. In other words, put on your “Italian Horror” goggles and you’ll probably enjoy the ride a lot more.

Making the Italian connection all the more overt is the casting of MacColl as the resident icy matriarch. The former Fulci star (The Beyond, House by the Cemetery) is no challenger to Helen Mirren’s throne, but she does a fine job anchoring the drama with an underwritten part, revealing a more vulnerable side via the flashbacks/visions that Jessica experiences while drowsing. As her affectionate, peace-making husband – but not Jessica’s biological father, it should be noted – Murray Head (Sunday Bloody Sunday, Chess) lends a warm, benevolent quality that tempers MacColl’s terseness.

Besson is more physical presence than verbal, but her delicate features and natural beauty go a long way toward sustaining the ethereal state of Jessica’s dreams. There’s also some dandy work from the legendary Vernon Dobtcheff as our local handyman, and a welcome cameo from everyone’s creepy French heavy, Phillipe Nahon (High Tension, Calvaire, I Stand Alone). The biggest bungle lies in the decision to dub MacColl’s character’s father (Fuad Ait Aattou) with a dumbed-down “evil” reverb that diminishes any genuine power or threat. Aattou might be a capable enough actor, but when every utterance sounds like a Ghostbusters Zuul outtake, you’re in trouble.

The heavy lifting, of course, is carried out by Pointeaux and her God-given assets (wide eyes, full lips and breasts, pale skin) are her most valuable ones in this case. Not that her “acting” scenes should be seen as demerits, but given the clunkiness of much of the dialogue and her occasionally dodgy accent, it’s no surprise that her wordless interactions are the ones that linger longest in the memory. And no, I’m not going to deny that she looks mighty fine in the buff.

The Artsploitation Blu-ray is enhanced greatly by an hour-long making-of that is as naïve and earnest as the subject it documents. Basset and Pointeaux are our featured talking heads, reflecting back on the long, arduous, and occasionally frustrating journey, but much of the time is spent on-set (back when the project was known as “Fever”) seeing the creative process through the lens of Hughes-Alban Bermond. (Charmingly, the piece is narrated in English by Hannah Mullaghy, since Bermond’s accent was deemed too thick, a fact copped to right off the bat.)

We get a wonderful glimpse into the resourcefulness and imaginative solution-finding that occurs in the world of independent filmmaking, especially when one is aiming higher than a simple backyard zombie shambler or '80s throwback slasher. As is often the case, seeing the limited resources these artists had to work with, juxtaposed with the superlative end results, it’s hard not to appreciate their labors all the more.

Also included are a trailer and four short films by Basset: Bloody Current Exchange (also featuring Nahon), Light Drowning (a one-minute zombie transformation), Remy (a delicate ghost story with a twist on a twist), and Faces and Landscapes of Beaujolais (more music video demo reel than narrative).

Horsehead is available now from Artsploitation Films and can be ordered HERE:

http://www.artsploitationfilms.com/film/horsehead/

You're welcome, Internet.

Empire of the Ants (1977) d. Bert I. Gordon (USA)

A random batch of civilians charters a short boat trip to investigate and potentially invest in time-shares for Dreamland Estates, a soon-to-be-opening beachside resort. Meanwhile, just up the shore, a discarded but clearly labeled barrel of RADIOACTIVE WASTE (heedlessly cast overboard during the opening credits) has washed up and been picnicked upon by the titular insects, causing them to balloon to enormous size. Seizing their moment, the giant bugs lay waste to their former antagonists as payback for all the stomping and magnifying stunts throughout the ages....

Hot off the financial success of the previous year’s The Food of the Gods, AIP’s Samuel Z. Arkoff recruited filmmaker Gordon to once again work his gigantism exploitation magic with another H.G. Wells “adaptation.” But, warning to high school students everywhere: should the original Wells story show up on the syllabus, don’t think you’ll be able to fake your way through that pop quiz by watching the movie. This giant brick of mozzarella is so far removed from its source material that only the title and the animal species remain intact. Rather than “Mr. B.I.G.” tackling the task himself, as he did with Food, television writer Jack Turley was recruited to spin out the details of Gordon’s screen story, which basically amounted to “Ants get big, attack people, try to take over world.” (The ants get smart, but not big, in the Wells story.)

The real film’s real coup lies in its casting of Joan Collins as cold-blooded real estate tycoon Marilyn Fryser, pitching worthless Florida swampland to the suckers with a bitchy smile whilst chastising her charter’s taciturn captain Dan (Robert Lansing) and her lover/assistant Charlie (Edward Power) in the same breath. Collins seems wildly inappropriate for such schlock, which gives the fanciful premise a surprising amount of juice; the awkwardness of seeing Dynasty’s future Alexis Carrington Colby splashing around in mucky waters and river scum is more tense and discomforting than any shoddy optically printed effects. Even if her American accent comes and goes, we forgive, because she’s just too much fun to watch.

Ah, yes, let us discuss the effects, which range from fake to obscenely fake. The blown-up shots of insect menace – shot in an Panama hotel room against a blue-screen and then crudely matted onto the live-action scenes with the human actors – are painfully obvious, although it's on the rare occasions where a single bug crawls toward its "prey" that the real magic takes place. Enter the silver-eyed ant puppets, which mercilessly, hilariously attack the victim in question. These antennaed props are so ridiculous that DP Reginald Morris (back again) and Gordon elect to wildly swing the camera around with abandon such that we never get a good look. (Strangely enough, there is no screen credit given to the creator, although IMDb lists Dave Ayres as “creature lab - uncredited”).

The ear-shattering ant screeching and omnipresent insectal purr – courtesy of Angel Editorial – provides some compensatory measure of frisson, as does the multi-lensed “Ant-Vision,” lifted wholesale from Kurt Neumann’s 1958 The Fly. The evocative electronic score is by Dana Kaproff, who delivered the excellent tones for When a Stranger Calls two years later (as well as arguably inspiring the THX-logo theme in the process) before immersing himself in a lucrative career within the network television grind. But veteran editor (and Robert Aldrich’s go-to cutter) Michael Luciano doesn’t fare as well in trying to match the shoddy optical effects to the shoddier physical effects. There are a lot of times where there are clearly no ants nearby and then suddenly there are dozens of them RIGHT THERE next to the actors. One can only imagine the heavy drinking that took place behind the Moviola in the spring of ’77.

Outside of Collins and taciturn character man Lansing (The 4D Man, The Nest), this is not as star-studded an affair as Gordon’s previous effort, with Jack Palance’s daughter Brooke playing the unhappily married wife of Robert Pine (father of future Star Trek captain, Chris Pine). Fourth-billed Albert Salmi shows up for a glorified cameo in the third act as a duplicitous lawman, and everyone’s favorite hot time hot tub poster girl from Halloween II (1981), Pamela Susan Shoop, handily wins both the wet T-shirt and “Best Screamer” awards.

I’ve already duly expressed my disappointment in the audio commentary for Shout! Factory’s recent Blu-ray presentation of Food of the Gods, so it should come as no surprise that the track here, once again featuring the oil-and-water comedy team of Gordon and Kevin Sean Michaels, will be winning no end-of-year awards either. After listening to both attempts, it’s clear that these two personalities do not work well together, and that the blame lies equally with both participants. Gordon keeps giving one-word responses (although he does at least liven up to reveal how he charmed Orson Welles for 1972’s Necromancy) and Michaels keeps making stupid, obvious comments regarding the onscreen action and Collins, then laughing at them himself.

The director’s no-nonsense attitude seems wildly at odds with the fantastic scenarios he is famous for, and where the table is set for colorful anecdotes aplenty, he simply shrugs off opportunity after opportunity. Truth be told, it’s just as likely the 93-year-old veteran simply can’t remember anything - of interest or otherwise; obviously hard of hearing and tired, one can’t help but sense that he wishes the whole thing was over just as badly as we do.

I’ll give Michaels credit for trying harder this time (I’m assuming both commentaries were recorded the same day) with his reluctant subject. He asks a lot of the right questions (and a lot of the wrong ones as well), but his booth partner just isn’t giving him anything to work with. He does persist and wheedles out a few answers, even if the responses are occasionally dubious in content. (For example, Gordon states that he shot the opening scene in northern California, even though the film is obviously set and shot in Florida. Is this true? Who knows? Michaels never bothers to find out.) Even so, the constant “joke” about whether Collins’ character can "still close the real estate deal" is just as unfunny the 10th time as it is the first. Likewise, his tactic of asking, “So, what’s going on here in this scene?” is lame, considering we already know that Gordon is not going to roll out some great story. Michaels would have been better off just taking the lead and telling us the stories himself (or giving us info about the actors, or the crew, or anything....)

Case in point: Gordon teases us early on with the famous anecdote of how Collins was unwilling to get out of the boat and into the alligator-infested waters for a river scene, and then says he’ll tell us the full tale once we get to the scene in question. Now, I’ve read the B.I.G. man’s autobiography, as well as his recent Rue Morgue interview with Preston Fassel (RM #153), so I know how the story goes. (After Collins adamantly refused to get in the water, Bert surreptitiously told the cameraman to roll, then dumped the boat so that the reluctant actress toppled into the water. Pro that she was, she stayed in character, swam to shore, and waited for Gordon to yell “Cut” before letting him have it loud and long.) Michaels, unfortunately, does not. So, when Gordon neglects to finish the story at the moment of truth, Michaels has no way of helping, and his clumsy attempts to get the director to recount it later go unrequited.

Oddly enough, there is a strange, almost imperceptible break in the commentary just after the hour mark, just after Michaels asks “So, what about Joan and the alligators?” for the umpteenth time. The track resumes and they are suddenly talking, much more animatedly, about Gordon’s new book on filmmaking. I have to wonder if someone in the studio didn’t call a time out, walk in, and slap ’em both around a little, because things definitely pick up and Gordon seems much more awake and lively... for a while at least.

It’s another missed opportunity, and it makes me sad for future generations looking to find out a little something more about the flick. And, unlike S!F's Food of the Gods release, there is no redeeming interview with one of the stars. (Was Pamela Susan Shoop busy or something??) While the movie remains as cheesily entertaining as always, the supplements leave a bad taste in the mouth, like the silver paint foisted upon the unsuspecting ants in the opening scenes.

Empire of the Ants is available on Blu-ray May 26 – paired with the joyoussssssssly zany snake attack flick Jaws of Satan– from Shout! Factory and can be pre-ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/film-horror/empire-of-the-ants-jaws-of-satan-double-feature

--Aaron Christensen, HorrorHound Magazine

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GhostHouse (1988) d. Umberto Lenzi (as Humphrey Humbert) (Italy)
Witchery (1988) d. Fabrizio Laurenti (as Martin Newlin) (Italy)

When Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead and Evil Dead II were released in Italy, they came out under the foreign titles of La Casa and La Casa II. Considering this is the same country that had the enterprising notion of coming up with a movie called Zombi 2 as an unofficial sequel to George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (released locally as Zombi), you can probably guess what happened next. Yep, notorious exploitation artist Joe D’Amato decided to produce a couple quick (and completely unrelated) haunted house flicks and put them out as La Casa 3 and La Casa 4 in an attempt to separate suckers from their hard-earned lira. Imagine their surprise when instead of Bruce Campbell, moviegoers found themselves face-to-face with a bunch of no-name Italian actors for the first and the comedy team of Linda Blair and David Hasselhoff (in between Knight Rider and Baywatch TV gigs at the time) for the second!

Now out on Blu-ray for the first time in the U.S., Shout! Factory serves up this heaping helping of prime mozzarella for your viewing enjoyment. Despite the heightened star power of Witchery, Lenzi’s GhostHouse is far and away the more entertaining of the two, handily earning its top-card status in this spaghetti splatter double feature. Neither film is categorically “good,” meaning they are better observed amidst quick-witted, wise-cracking company, but both have their fair share of gruesome, gory moments and thigh-slapping thesping mishaps.

GhostHouse opens with a strict religious father chastising his daughter for murdering the family cat, whereupon he locks her in the basement with her favorite creepy clown doll, despite the protests of his more sensible wife. Pater and Mater are subsequently murdered by a mysterious figure, whereupon the story flashes forward 20 years to Boston ham radio enthusiast Paul (Greg Scott) picking up strange cries for help over the late-night airwaves. Because Paul is “into computers,” he and his heavily accented girlfriend Martha (Lara Wendel) head off into the wilds of Massachusetts to track the source of the signal.

Upon arrival at (surprise, surprise) the same house where the infamous double murder took place, they encounter another CB fan, Mark (Ron Houck), his brother Jim (Martin Jay), his girlfriend Susan (Mary Sellers), and their little sister Tina (Kate Silver) squatting at the house whilst taking a break from their road trip excursion. Mark is surprised to hear his own voice on Paul’s tape recorder and, denying having sent the distress call, agrees to help unravel the mystery. As evening draws nigh, all manner of strange occurrences befall the group: blood is spilled, limbs severed, campers rocked, throats slit, all amidst rampant product placement and visions of creepy clown dolls and their underage blonde owners. Oh, and there’s also a random loony named Valkos (Donald O’Brien) running around knocking people off when the supernatural forces are a little too slow for his tastes.

Anyone not familiar with Italian horror might be a little caught off guard by the rampant nonsense on display, but fans of our pasta-loving neighbors’ bonkers brand of fright flick will be delighted. Terrible acting, inane plots and subplots, nightmare logic, and bizarre set pieces are the building blocks of Lenzi’s entry into the haunted house derby. While there are no legitimate scares, there are some wingding incidents of crazy, such as when the floor randomly opens up to swallow a hapless victim in what appears to be acidic milk or when a character is split in two by a random hanging guillotine blade. As the saying goes, “there are no bad movies, only boring ones,” and GhostHouse is far from boring.

The same, however, cannot be said of its semi-sequel, which starts off strong with the scene of a pregnant woman being chased across the fields by an angry mob (of five), through a deserted hotel, and eventually out the upstairs window to her death below. This turns out to be only a dream by expectant mother Jane Brooks (Blair), whose rich bitch mother has just purchased a hotel off the coast of Massachusetts… one that looks curiously like the one in her dreams. As fate would have it, said hotel is also the site of a mysterious phenomenon where flashing lights are seen from a certain vantage point at the same time every night, which has also attracted aspiring author and successful virgin Leslie (Leslie Cumming) and her photographer boyfriend Gary (Hasselhoff) to the island. A freak storm strands the Brooks family, their realtor, the hotel's architect, and the two interlopers on the island for the night, and wouldn’t you know it, the malevolent spirit of a German actress-turned-sorceress (Hildegard Knef) decides to get her hoodoo on. Let the body count begin!

Unfortunately, the time spent between the offings – which are admittedly gory and pleasantly unpleasant – is an unending slog spent with yawntastic characters who can’t seem to get killed off fast enough. Laurenti, who never had another significant genre credit outside of Contamination .7 (aka The Crawlers aka Troll 3), can’t seem to get any momentum going, nor conjure any atmosphere despite the isolated island setting and his mansion of many rooms. It also falls to him that the characters keep referring to this “awful storm” that has “trapped them” on the island, and yet every time he cuts to the exteriors, the waters are calm without a cloud in the sky. A little stock footage would have gone a long way, Fab.

Blair, never a good actress to begin with, is given nothing to do except wander around looking bloated and uncomfortable until the final reel when someone hits her with a couple bottles of hair mousse and a blow dryer. Hasselhoff gives his shutterbug would-be lothario a bit more oomph, even trying out a couple different accents along the way, but he’s never given a chance to really cut loose. This is primarily due to the fact that he’s saddled with the mush-mouthed Cumming as his onscreen paramour, wielding about as much sex appeal as a sock full of banana slugs. At least Catherine Hickland, playing slutty architect Linda, is pleasant enough to look at, even if she never quite completely doffs the duds. And Bob Champagne (who also appears in GhostHouse as a completely different character) and Annie Ross are entertaining boors as Jane’s bickering parents.

The death scenes are really the only thing to recommend, and effects artist Maurizio Trani, who served on all of Lucio Fulci’s major 1980s efforts, has a high old time with the latex and karo syrup. These include a showcase sequence where Ross’ lips are sewn shut and she’s left to dangle in the chimney while her unwitting family members complain about the cold and set about searching for kindling to start a fire, followed by Champagne’s equally grisly fate with veins exploding Scanners-style all over the place. Still, this is one of those proverbial remote control riders, where you're better off hitting the FF button and waiting for the red stuff.

Both films are packed onto a single disc, with their respective theatrical trailers as the only extra.

GhostHouse and Witchery are available now from Shout! Factory and can be ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/film-horror/ghosthouse-witchery-double-feature

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The Happiness of the Katakuris (2001) d. Takashi Miike (Japan)

Former shoe salesman Masao Katakuri (Kenji Sawada) purchases a bed & breakfast in a remote hiking area in the shadow of Mt. Fuji where a new road is planned to be built and moves his father (Tetsuro Tanba), wife Terue (Keiko Matsuzaka), son Masayuki (Shinji Takeda), daughter Shizue (Naomi Nishida), and granddaughter Yurie (Tamaki Miyazaki) to assist in the running of the vacation establishment. Guests rarely appear, and when they do, they tend to wind up expired in the morning. As they say, friends help you move, but real friends help you move bodies, and as the death toll rises, the dysfunctional family learns to put aside their petty differences and discover the true meaning of joy and unconditional love.

When rising star and noted cinematic bad-boy Miike was approached to do a Japanese-language remake of The Quiet Family, the 1998 black comedy that marked the debut of Korean filmmaker Jee-woon Kim (A Tale of Two Sisters, I Saw the Devil), he was hardly enthused at the prospect until he hit upon the idea of adding his own distinctive touches… which included stop-motion sequences of the central characters depicted in clay, musical numbers, and dancing zombies! As a result, Katakuris actually surpassed its source material in terms of worldwide recognition, meeting with vibrant critical acclaim and surprising many viewers only familiar with his darker offerings, including Audition, Ichi the Killer, Dead or Alive, and Visitor Q. Not that Katakuris is any less twisted, mind you, but there is an underlying sweetness and warmth throughout that balances the ever-growing body count.

Arrow Video’s recent Blu-ray release is breathtaking in terms of both presentation and overall production value. Not only does the high-definition upgrade deliver the bizarre visuals to the brain like a shot of mainline hallucinogenics, the disc is bursting with supplemental materials to satisfy both longtime Miike fans and newcomers in desperate need of context and explanation of WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST SEE???

The extras kick off with a brand-new 38-minute interview with the prolific director (over 90 films and counting as of this morning) entitled “Violent ’til I Die.” We find Miike in a very thoughtful and introspective mood, delivering measured sentences discussing how the project came to him, his impressions of the original Korean film (“inelegant but filled with the conviction of a new filmmaker”), the fearlessness of the cast (comprised of major stars in the form of Sawada, Matasuzaka, Tanba, and rock star Kiyoshiro Imawano as well as talented newcomers like Takeda and Nishida), the unconventional on-set choreography by Ryohei Kondo, the indifferent reception by Japanese critics and audiences, and the film's vindication as it arrived on the world stage. Miike’s quiet and contemplative manner may seem at odds with his bonkers artistic output, but his sly dry wit shines through as he delivers such classic quotes as “Directors don’t really have a lot to do on a film set, just make decisions and create. […] If you don’t have a special skill set, you should become a film director.”

There’s also a terrific vintage 30-minute making-of with interviews conducted on-set with most of the major players as well as how-they-did-that intel for some of the special effects. For those with shorter attention spans, the archival interviews with Miike, Sawada, Matsuzaka, Imawano, Takeda, Nishida, and Tanba will gently ease you in, clocking in at 3-5 minutes apiece. While some of these segments are crudely edited (the Sawada one is notable in this aspect, jump-cutting from him laughing to composed and back again) and the subjects don’t have the opportunity to delve too deeply, we still get a glimpse into their personas behind the heightened onscreen characterizations.

One of the standout elements of Katakuris is Hideki Kimura’s claymation, and the five-minute featurette on how the climactic flood sequence came to be realized is both enlightening and frustrating in its brevity. Inspired by the work of celebrated Czech animator Jan Svankmajer, Kimura’s efforts only amount to six minutes of onscreen time, but they leave a lasting impression.

The 23-minute visual essay, “Dogs, Pimps, and Agitators” is written and directed by Tom Mes, the author of the excellent tomes Agitator: The Cinema of Takashi Miike and Re-Agitator: A Decade of Writing on Takashi Miike. Considering the breadth of his subject’s output, it’s remarkable that Mes is able to distill this prodigious career down to less than half an hour without feeling either rushed or simply a catalog of titles. The author skillfully navigates from his first encounter with Miike, the 1999 breakout of Audition (his 35th film, already nine years into his directorial career), and then moves forward and back along the auteur’s CV, giving equal time to his prolific V-Cinema (straight to video) era as well as his more celebrated festival-winning offerings.

There are also two audio commentary tracks: one by Mes that allows more time to focus specifically on Katakuris and its place in Miike’s filmography, and a subtitled one from Miike himself, presented in both an English “re-creation” and a subtitled version of the original Japanese track. (I recommend listening to the English while also running the subtitles to note the subtle differences.) The Mes commentary is by far the more informative, while the Miike track, shared with film critic/sometime actor Tokitoshi Shiota (who also plays the first unfortunate Katakuri guest), is jollier and energetic. Both, however, are well worth listening to, providing marvelous context and insight into perhaps the most joyful entries of the millennial J-horror wave.

Theatrical trailer and TV spots round out the extras, with the whole thing wrapped up in a reversible sleeve (featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by The Twins of Evil) and a booklet featuring new writing on the film by author Johnny Mains and a re-printed interview with Miike conducted by Sean Axmaker, illustrated with original stills.

The Happiness of the Katakuris is available now from Arrow Video and can be ordered from MVD Entertainment HERE:

http://mvdb2b.com/s/HappinessOfTheKatakurisTheBluRayDVD/MVD7367BR

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Contamination (aka Alien Contamination) (1980) d. Luigi Cozzi (as Lewis Coates) (Italy)

One of the more flamboyant examples of ’80s Italian rip-offs, director/co-writer Cozzi borrows heavily from Ridley Scott’s Alien but then literally explodes in directions you’d hardly think possible. When a mysterious ship comes floating into a New York harbor, a group of investigators headed up by Col. Stella Holmes (Louise Marleau) and NYPD Lt. Tony Aris (Marino Mase) discover a crew that has been turned to a bloody mess and a cargo hold filled with strange pulsating eggs… much like the strange pulsating eggs soon discovered in a NYC warehouse. At this point, a previous space expedition to Mars is revealed, headed up by astronauts Hubbard (Ian McCulloch) and Hamilton (Siegfried Rauch), which also involved some alien eggs, and we’re off to the races, a trail that will lead us all the way down to a Colombian coffee plantation run by Perla de la Cruz (Gisela Hahn), who is growing a very strange crop indeed.

Highly entertaining and unintentionally hilarious from start to finish, Contamination is rife with over-the-top performances, frequent verbal snafus, crazy conspiracies, and a final-reel visual-feast “Alien Cyclops” (designed by Claudio Mazzoli and built by Giorgio Ferrari) with eating habits that will leave mouths agape. All this is topped off with Goblin’s repetitious but rockin’ musical score and ooey-gooey-kerplooey special makeup effects by Giovanni Corridori. Yes, it's all very silly, but that just makes it all the more enjoyable, and despite the bladder-busting special effects, it’s hard to believe this was one of the official Video Nasties prosecuted by the BFCC.

Not to sound like a broken record, but Arrow Video has once again delivered up the gold-standard for home video releases. If you are a fan of Contamination, you will be more than satiated by the supplemental feast the Arrow chefs have been preparing, starting off with the 22-min making-of vintage featurette by Maurizio Checcoli and Luciano Galluzzi, which first premiered in 2003 on the Blue Underground DVD. Here our director is very candid about he and co-writer Erich Tomek (Jess Franco’s Bloody Moon) lifting elements from various sci-fi films, including Them!, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Enemy from Space aka Quatermass 2, The H-Man, and, of course, Alien.

This is followed by a 40-min Q&A with Cozzi and McCulloch (Zombie Flesh Eaters, Zombie Holocaust), where Cozzi explains the concept of “Aliens come to the Earth” (or to the “Hearth,” as Cozzi’s thick accentpronounces it), and that the title change was due to another Italian film studio at the film market having the same title! Producer Claudio Mancini came up with the title Contamination, which Cozzi initially balked at because there is, in fact, no contamination!

In fact, Cozzi actually prefers the Americanized Alien Contamination title, since it actually makes a little more sense. We also learn that drug dealers were actually involved in the financing and that Cozzi’s crew may or may not have smuggled drugs back to Italy with their film equipment. McCulloch starts off looking just as grumpy as his character, though he eventually warms up about halfway through and regales the crowd with a few wry anecdotes.

“Sound of the Cyclops” features Goblin keyboardists Maurizio Gaurini discussing the film’s dark, progressive rock score and a lifetime of making music for Italian terror. Not terribly enlightening, but he’s a chatty enough subject for 11 minutes. However, while on the aural side of things, it’s worth noting that the Arrow sound mix is quite uneven; we were forced to ride the remote the entire time since the appropriate volume for the dialogue sequences means that the music and explosions are ear-shatteringly loud, a disparity of 10-20 clicks. Bit of a bummer, that.

During the 45-minute “Luigi Cozzi vs. Lewis Coates” featurette, the director barely takes a breath in what basically amounts to a single shot in front of a green screen (with various footage projected behind him). As Cozzi discusses his 50-year career in sci-fi, horror, and fantasy, starting with his Futuria Fantasia fanzine as well as his role as “Foreign Correspondent” for Famous Monsters of Filmland, it’s impossible not to be caught up in his infectious enthusiasm. This is clearly a guy who loves making movies. However, since his output is likely to be familiar to only the most versed genre fans (Starcrash, Vampire in Venice, Paganini Horror, The Black Cat, and two Hercules flicks with Lou Ferrigno), it’s possible that casual viewers’ attention spans might be tested.

Cozzi has great fun explaining the challenges of covering up the inert quality of the producer-imposed papier mache monster that serves as his film’s climax, making 140 edits to create a sense of drama and mobility. Also discussed is his hand in the creation of the Profondo Rosso memorabilia shop in Rome, and the segment concludes with the revelation of his new, low-budget project, Blood on Méliès’ Moon and his criticism of today's wannabe schlockmeisters. “The restriction in filmmaking today is no longer the budget, it’s expertise and knowledge. Too many people pick up a video camera or a mobile phone and say, ‘I’m going to make a film.’ They can’t do it, because they don’t know how to make a film. They don’t know how to construct a film, how to write a film.” (I can’t say that the 1-minute preview of BoMM we’re given shows us anything revelatory, but hey.)

The grab-bag of goodies continues with the 17-minute talking heads offering, “Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery: A Critical Analysis of the Italian Cash-in,” features Maitland McDonagh (Broken Mirrors, Broken Minds) and Chris Poggiali (Temple of Shock). They discuss the Italian philosophy of “the law of the stream,” where a single film’s success (Jaws, Escape from New York, Mad Max, Alien, Dawn of the Dead) leads to a series that creates a subgenre unto itself, where the knockoffs would do just as well (if not better) at the box office. This is followed by a 55-page graphic novel version of the film, with art by Sergio Muratori, and the film's theatrical trailer.

The self-described “fan commentary” by Fangoria editor-in-chief Chris Alexander, who also provides the liner notes, is more one of enthusiasm than insider info, but considering how much time we spend with Cozzi himself throughout the other extras, this is hardly a crime. Even as he celebrates the flick (telling more than a few personal stories along the way, including discovering its existence via Chas Balun's Gorezone column), Alexander spends a goodly amount of time tearing it apart logistically, citing many of the issues that my friends and I had during our most recent viewing. But this is what makes Contamination special, he says, and in the right company, it’s hard to disagree. Grab your hazmat suit and enjoy!

Contamination is available now from Arrow Video and can be ordered from MVD Entertainment HERE:

http://mvdb2b.com/s/ContaminationBluRayDVD/MVD7368BR

If there’s one thing I recognize from exploring the horror genre over the past 15 years, subjecting myself to everything from the slickest Hollywood remake to the barest-of-bones backyard indie feature, it’s that my appreciation and/or tolerance for weird and wild cinema has deepened and grown. Where once poor dubbing, acting, or penniless production value would have instantly turned me off of a film, I now find myself able to gaze into the abyss for hours at a time; similarly, bizarre aesthetics and unconventional narratives are no longer received with frustration, but with the excitement of a new, fresh taste for my cinematic palate. Not to say I love everything I encounter, but these days, I’m far more likely to remember and appreciate that which is foreign to my sensibilities as opposed to any highly processed computer-generated, star-powered multiplex fare.

All of which leads me to this month’s releases from Arrow Video, which has not only dazzled me with its recent souped-up high-def horror releases of The Happiness of the Katakuris and Contamination, but also with a trio of “civilian” offerings that, as with their April slate, were completely new to my relatively versed mind and eyes. The fact that I’d never even heard of any of them instantly conjured images of those early Foolish years where I offered myself up to whatever the local late-night independent television programmers had to offer. From Hong Kong kung-fu flicks to down-and-dirty action pieces to trashy monster movies, it was all new to me, and now, Arrow brings back that sense of uncharted excitement and adventure with exploitation king Jack Hill’s rarely-seen stock car melodrama Pit Stop, Frenchman Robert Hossein’s western Cemetery Without Crosses, and the Japanese “counterculture-biker-chick-juvenile-delinquent-pinky-violence” mash-up that is the five-film Stray Cat Rock series.

Pit Stop (1969) d. Jack Hill (USA)

Street-racing greaser Rick Bowman (Richard Davalos) is bailed out of jail by slimy race promoter Grant Willard (Brian Donlevy in his final screen appearance), who then lures him into participating in the devious and deadly sport of figure-8 stock car racing. Pitted head-to-head against the “dingie” reigning champ Hawk Sidney (Sid Haig), Rick finds that he has the skill and the ruthlessness to win, but at what cost? His life? His soul?

Filmed on a real figure-8 track in “Crash-o-Rama,” Hill and his small crew captured all the visceral racing scenes over five nights, and then paired up vehicles that matched the particularly spectacular devastating crashes. The stellar cast also features Haig’s Spider Baby co-star Beverly Washburn and a young actress named “Ellen McRae,” soon to be known as Oscar-winning actress Ellen Burstyn. Filmed in stark black-and-white in order to shoot at night with minimal lighting, this is a blistering morality tale packed with plenty of vehicular carnage and a killer downbeat ending. The new High Definition digital transfer, supervised and approved by Hill, will likely be most viewers first exposure to the film, and as the “Restoring Pit Stop” featurette with technical supervisor James White amply demonstrates, it’s likely Pit Stop hasn’t looked this good since it first rolled out of the chemical baths in the late 60s.

Arrow’s extras-laden presentation makes it all the easier to appreciate this lost gem, starting off with the newly recorded audio commentary featuring the writer/director sharing the mike with genre specialist and Hill biographer Calum Waddell. It’s the kind of enthusiastic and knowledgeable track that represent the Platonic ideal of the form, as we (and occasionally Hill and Waddell) learn oodles of background intel over the course of the 90-minute run time. Tidbits include the fact that the original title, “The Winner,” was canned because Paul Newman’s racing pic Winning had already been announced, and while Pit Stop didn’t blow the doors off the drive-in circuit, it did make a big enough impression on a certain Mexican producer to land Hill the gig of shooting the L.A.-based scenes for Boris Karloff’s final four films (Fear Chamber, House of Evil, Isle of the Snake People, Alien Terror).

The disc also sports a trio of marvelous and engaging Waddell-produced featurettes: “Crash and Burn!” with Hill (15 min), “Drive Hard” with Haig (17 min), and “Life in the Fast Lane” with Roger Corman (11 min), who offered Hill the small $75,000 budget to make the film almost entirely on his own terms. It’s also worth noting that since this release was originally produced for the UK market, that the subtitles still contain several European spellings (tyres, chequerboard). A reversible sleeve, featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Jay Shaw, rounds out the literal package, with a collector's booklet featuring new writing on the film by critic Glenn Kenny and musicologist and writer Gray Newell on the film's soundtrack, illustrated with original stills and artwork.

http://mvdb2b.com/s/PitStop2DiscDirectorApprovedEditionBluRayDVD/AV016

Stray Cat Rock: Delinquent Girl Boss (1970) d. Yasuharu Hasebe (Japan)
Stray Cat Rock: Wild Jumbo (1970) d. Toshiya Fujita (Japan)
Stray Cat Rock: Sex Hunter (1970) d. Yasuharu Hasebe (Japan)
Stray Cat Rock: Machine Animal (1970) d. Yasuharu Hasebe (Japan)
Stray Cat Rock: Beat ’71 (1971) d. Toshiya Fujita (Japan)

These five tales of rebellious youth are all over the map in terms of subject matter and tone, their only real connecting thread being the SCR title and actress Meiko Kaji (Lady Snowblood, Blind Woman's Curse), who swings from supporting to lead roles throughout. Our first film, Delinquent Girl Boss, sees a girl gang led by real-life recording artist Akiko Wada going up against other street gangs and the nefarious yukuza Seiyu Group. Wild Jumbo sees a band of petty hoodlums turning revolutionary and targeting a religious organization for their ill-gotten gains. Sex Hunter swings to racial prejudices against the backdrop of two warring gangs (one led by Kaji), while Machine Animal follows a package of 500 LSD tabs being peddled by a Japanese trio looking to emigrate to Sweden much to the consternation of the local yakuza. Finally, Beat ’71 sends up the hippie culture in a story of haves and have-nots that climaxes with a bloody gunfight in a deserted tourist mining town.

With genre veterans Hasebe (Massacre Gun) and Fujita (Lady Snowblood) at the helm, this quintet of films showcased a psychedelic mix of girl gangs, bikers, sex, drugs, and rock and roll with plenty of ass-kicking to boot, all captured in a delirious mash-up of pop aesthetics including split screens, freeze frames, injections of color, frenetic editing and dizzying angles. Oddly enough, however, all of the films suffer from pacing issues and feel overlong even though each clocks in at less than 90 minutes. The characters are almost universally thin and generally unpleasant, and the stories all conclude on invariably bleak notes. What seems like ought to be a series of fun and wacky teen thrill rides is only occasionally wacky and even more rarely fun. (Basically, anytime someone decides to chase someone else in a motor vehicle, you’re in for a good time. Outside of that… not so much. Rape parties, anyone?)

If I had to pick a favorite, I’d probably go for either Delinquent Girl Boss or Beat ’71, although Sex Hunter seems to be widely accepted as the best of the bunch. (Then again, this could be due to the fact that prior to this release, it was the only one widely available with English subtitles.) However, there’s no quibbling about the quality of the films’ various and eclectic soundtracks, all of which are great fun and belie the darker subject matters cloaked within their bouncy melodies.

Even if it's not necessarily my cuppa green tea, Arrow has done U.S. fans of Asian cinema a great service by releasing this limited edition 3000-unit collection (previously released in the UK last fall), complete with brand new English subtitles for all five films. While the package doesn’t contain the usual abundance of per-film extras the company is known for, there are three 30-minute interviews that more than make up the difference. These include Hasebe (director of Delinquent Girl Boss, Sex Hunter and Machine Animal), actor Tatsuya Fuji (who, like Kaji, appears in every entry in the series), and Yoshio Harada, the star of Beat '71. The various films’ original trailers and a collector's booklet featuring new writing on the films by Japanese cinema expert Jasper Sharp, complete the package.

http://mvdb2b.com/s/StrayCatRockTheCollectionBlurayDVD/AV008

Cemetery Without Crosses (1969) d. Robert Hossein (France/Italy/Spain)

After her husband is lynched by bandits, Maria Caine (Michèle Mercier) seeks revenge and turns to an old friend, Manuel (played by director Hossein), for help. The initially reluctant Manuel, a mysterious loner who lives in a ghost town and dons a single black glove before each gunfight, soon infiltrates the widow's enemies to force a showdown.

Inspired by the international success of his great friend Sergio Leone’s Dollars trilogy, Rififi star Hossein decided to fulfill his long-held dream of playing gunslinger, crafting this haunting piece that dances the line between the audacious lyricism of the spaghetti westerns with the hard-bitten reality of Anthony Mann’s entries to the genre. Mercier, star of “The Telephone” segment in Mario Bava’s Black Sabbath, is absolutely stunning as the fiery widow, and Hossein is marvelously rugged and weathered as her reluctant instrument of revenge. While there are no shortages of showdowns in dusty streets or crowded saloons, this is a bleaker and more melancholy offering that you might be used to. The thundering, Morricone-esque score is courtesy of composer Andre Hossein (the director/star’s father), with the memorable main themes sung by famed 60s recording artist Scott Walker (of The Walker Brothers).

Arrow unveils this rarely seen oater with a brand new 2K restoration from the original film elements, and original Italian and English soundtracks in uncompressed PCM mono audio (with newly translated English subtitles for the Italian soundtrack). The extras aren’t quite as impressive for this particular feature, with only a few brief featurettes to provide context for fullest appreciation. The first, an all-new interview with Hossein entitled “Remembering Sergio,” seems particularly egregious in its brevity, clocking in at a mere five minutes, especially since it would appear that the director has plenty more stories to offer.

More enlightening is an 8-minute French television news report on the film's making, containing interviews with Hossein, Mercier, and Serge Marquand, padded out by another short archival interview with the director. It’s a rare instance of stinginess from the company renowned for its supplemental extravagance, but the reversible sleeve, featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by James Flames, and liner notes containing new writing by Ginette Vincendeau and Rob Young will hopefully make up the difference.

http://mvdb2b.com/s/CemeteryWithoutCrossesBlurayDVD/AV014

Pit Stop, Stray Cat Rock, and Cemetery Without Crosses are available for pre-order from Arrow Video – stop by MVD Entertainment to reserve your copy today!

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The Outing (aka The Lamp) (1987) d. Tom Daley (USA)
The Godsend (1980) d. Gabrielle Beaumont (UK)

If you’ve been paying attention at all, you know Shout! Factory’s specialty arm Scream Factory has been making a name for itself among horror fans over the last few years, giving many genre films their first Blu-ray and/or DVD releases, ranging from big-name franchises to obscure gems. Some of the latter have found their way onto double feature discs, most of which have an overt theme in common: the recent double feature of Italian “haunted house” films GhostHouse and Witchery, or the “nature’s revenge” discs of Food of the Gods / Frogs and Empire of the Ants / Jaws of Satan. This month’s S!F double feature, however, pairs two films, The Outing and The Godsend, that appear to have nothing in common whatsoever thematically, tonally, or otherwise.

In The Outing, a trio of young criminals breaks into the home of an old woman to steal her “piles of money,” but instead accidentally free an ancient and powerful evil from what looks to be a bona-fide magic lamp. Some of the old woman’s belongings make their way to a museum curated by Dr. Wallace (James Huston). Wallace’s daughter Alex (Andra St. Ivanyi) interrupts the examination of the lamp and puts on a mysterious bracelet decorated with the same blood-red jewels found on the lamp, only to find she cannot remove it.

Alex and her friends decide to sneak into the museum after hours following a field trip, but Alex’s violently jealous ex-boyfriend Mike (Red Mitchell) and his friend also manage to get back in. Locked in the museum overnight, the kids come face-to-face with the creature from the lamp, an evil genie hellbent on carrying out its master’s wishes and only too happy to kill anyone else in its path.

While it’s not hard to see why The Outing is something of a cult favorite, it’s also not surprising that it hasn’t had any previous high-profile home video releases. For such a goofy setup, the film is oddly mean-spirited. In particular, the character of Mike goes beyond “hateful ex-boyfriend” to “this guy should be in jail” about a minute after he’s introduced. He tries to run Alex’s new boyfriend off the road, pulls a knife on a fellow student in school, attacks a teacher, spits racial slurs and rapes one of Alex’s female friends. That last scene is particularly unpleasant and sticks out badly in that it’s out of keeping with everything that’s gone before.

Overall, The Outing is pretty solid if needlessly cruel; a fairly standard slice of ’80s-horror fun, with embarrassing clothes, bad life choices, and some really good practical effects. Best of all is the genie itself, a towering beast shrouded in mist that delivers a bizarre, hilarious bunch of exposition before the climactic showdown.

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Brit horror offering The Godsend could not be more different. Illustrator Alan Marlowe (Malcolm Stoddard) and his wife Kate (Cyd Hayman) live an idyllic life in a rural cottage with their five children. One day Kate meets a strange young woman (Angela Pleasence, Donald’s daughter) who is heavily pregnant. Kate invites her to their cottage for a visit, where she gives birth to a little girl and then promptly disappears. Alan and Kate assume responsibility for the baby and raise her as their own, naming her Bonnie (Wilhelmina Green).

But Alan suspects something is off, and before long the Marlowe children begin meeting tragic, seemingly accidental ends. Is the family just cursed with bad luck, or is little Bonnie not the innocent angel she seems to be? And if she’s a killer, can Alan convince Kate that something must be done before it’s too late?

The comparatively heavy parental horror of The Godsend is a huge departure from the genie-based antics of The Outing. The lead performances by Stoddard and Hayman are good, but their characters feel like dated caricatures. Alan is The Man, seemingly barely fazed by the deaths of his children, while Kate regularly descends into a screaming, weeping wreck. Aside from its blatant gender stereotypes, the film is built on a solid, genuinely unsettling concept. Director Gabrielle Beaumont plays on this concept effectively, investing several scenes with queasy tension.

Pleasence makes a strong impression in her small part as the creepy stranger, using little but her deliberate movement (or lack thereof) and wide eyes to create a memorable “monster.” Green, on the other hand, is just not scary in the least, mostly because the film tries very hard to make her seem that way. By the nth time she furrows her little brow, it’s become more of a punchline than a sign of ominous portent.

Both films have been given a “new HD transfer” for this Blu-ray release, and the result is something of a mixed bag. The Outing is very dark and grainy, and the picture frequently has noticeable smearing likely due to digital noise reduction. The Godsend has a little of this, but as it mostly takes place during daytime in bright sunlight, the picture is much cleaner. Neither film is unwatchable, of course, and this is apparently the first time The Outing has been released on home video in the States in its correct widescreen aspect ratio.

The disc’s sole extra is the theatrical trailer for The Godsend, a two-minute highlight reel of spoilers depicting every kill in the movie, transferred from what looks to have been a well-worn 35mm print. Sound mix on both films is fine, and it’s nice to have optional English (and English SDH) subtitles. Despite the transfer issues, it’s highly likely that this is the best presentation that will ever be available on physical media; fans of either film will find this disc a more-than-worthy addition to their video library.

The Outing and The Godsend are available Tuesday, July 14 from Shout! Factory and can be pre-ordered HERE:

https://www.shoutfactory.com/film/film-horror/the-outing-the-godsend-double-feature

--Review by Jason Coffman

Check out more of Jason’s movie musings at https://medium.com/@rabbitroom

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