SWV Week Continues with ALL WOMEN ARE BAD!

October 12, 2017, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Doris Wishman's A TASTE OF FLESH (1967)

ALL WOMEN ARE BAD
1969, Something Weird Video
61 minutes, $10 DVD-R, $9.99 download

Larry Crane's mind-boggling ALL WOMEN ARE BAD ("And I ought to know... I'm a man!") - a latter-day release from Stan Borden's prodigiously rough 'n' scuzzy American Film Distributing Corporation - rates as one of the defining titles in the Something Weird Video catalogue. It serves up a little of everything anyone cruising the label could possibly want: it's black-and-white, east coast Adults Only, shot without live sound (the narrator even loops a woman's dialogue), and the storyline - such as it is - is utterly deranged. In roughly ah hour of screen time, it manages to squeeze in something for the voyeur, the S&M freak, the foot fetishist, the ticklers and the tickled, the horror fan, connoisseurs of deliria, and gay gropings on both sides of the gender fence.

Peter Bradford plays our protagonist and narrator John Steele, a Manhattan door-to-door cosmetics salesman who, after a long day of fruitlessly pressing doorbells, takes a walk and somehow finds himself awakening from a nap in the woods. Deciding to return home early for a change, he discovers his wife Leila (Liz Byan, who wears exaggerated, implicitly Satanic eye makeup) in bed with another man. Feeling angry, wounded, and betrayed, but choosing not to make a scene, Steele makes a silent retreat and rents the first cheap furnished room he can find.

While everything up to this moment is acceptable within the bounds of loose storytelling, our narrator/protagonist's entrance into this rooming house catapults the scenario into a long, dark night of the soul in broad daylight, as he begins to slip in and out of time and space, his environs metamorphosing convulsively as if in a dream or a bad trip. He is abruptly transported from his rooming house corridor to a New York ferry, to what appears to be San Francisco's Chinatown where he sees a stripper smoking opium (followed by images of the woman posing under projections of psychedelic graphics), to standing behind a curtain at a hippie orgy, to being a fly on the wall at a gay seduction (grossly overplayed), to being an invisible witness to a monster's attempts to tickle a prostitute with ostrich feathers and a caped madman's indulgence in an act of necrophilia. Everything his greedy eyes observe seems to reinforce his titular philosophy, a fact driven home visually when each of the women - including the defiled corpse and the gay man about to be orally pleasured - assumes the winking likeness of the emasculating temptress, Leila. At the peak of his delirium, Steele's emasculation becomes literal when he fights to free himself from a strait-jacket only to find his torso transformed into that of a female.

There is a sense about this movie that it's something made out of desperation from scraps of unrelated footage; even the musical soundtrack can be heard abruptly shifting from what sounds like a Blues Magoos freak-out jam to equally jarring, schmaltzy strings during the monotonously-shot grope-and-slurp sessions. The aforementioned New York ferry scene, which drags on for several minutes (in a film barely longer than an hour!) as its passengers wait to get off (as we all wait to get off!), is hilariously scored with urgent suspense music, including snippets of familiar Roger Roger cues from the Valentino library like "Spell of the Unknown" and "Toward Discovery." At the same time, there is something perversely ambitious about this runaway mess that begs us to consider that at least some of its spiraling, surrealist achievement was premeditated. Certainly, within the context of other NYC-made adult fare of this period, the approach taken here was at least creative and unusual, yielding more than enough to win it credibility as a gritty, if inescapably silly, horror-fantasy anomaly. As it probes the delicate psyche of its conservative lead character, clearly bombarded by all the varieties of action he's not getting, it shares with other American Film Distributing Corp. titles (like WHITE SLAVES OF CHINATOWN), a conflicting desire to know what is available and a deep-seated, appalled fear of such human diversity.

Credited with special effects on the show is its only familiar name: Jerry Damiano - soon to become world-famous as Gerard Damiano, the director of DEEP THROAT (1972). He also plays the uncredited role of Mr. Squire, whom Steele visits in his executive office building in a Manhattan high rise - where a window is covered by what couldn't more obviously be shower curtains unless they had cartoon fish on them. Director Larry Crane can be glimpsed in the film playing both the bartender and the barnstorming necrophile.

The film is followed - at least on our archival copy - by a series of trailers, beginning with one for ALL WOMEN ARE BAD itself, which is surprisingly more explicit in its erotic commingling (and willingness to show female pubic hair) than the main feature itself.

You can order ALL WOMEN ARE BAD or any other Something Weird release from PayPal by addressing your order information and payment to somethingweirdauctions@gmail.com, or by addressing a check or money order directly to SWV, PO Box 33664, Seattle WA 98133.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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Doris Wishman's A TASTE OF FLESH (1967)

October 13, 2017, 12:00 am

≫ Next: Claude Sautet's DICTATOR'S GUNS reviewed

≪ Previous: SWV Week Continues with ALL WOMEN ARE BAD!

A TASTE OF FLESH
1967, Something Weird Video
71m 50s, $10.00 DVD-R, $9.99 download

Despite its title, this is not a further entry in Michael Findlay's Flesh series from the same period but rather a stand-alone Doris Wishman item, written by her as "El Ess" with the direction credited to "L. Silverman" - and it's a very strange thing. Filmed almost entirely inside a single three-room apartment, the picture was shot without live sound, then post-synched by different actors at Titra Sound Corp. and scored with some of the most exciting library tracks imaginable (including the one that has since become legend as "the Something Weird Theme"). The result is a bit like a tawdry crime fotonovela in which the performances we hear were not actually given, where the misleading feel of excitement was laid-in like carpeting, by the yard.

We open with a beautiful woman luxuriating for quite a long time in a bubble bath, until another woman appears in the room and ventures to touch her. The intruder is actually the resident, Bobbi (Layla Peters), who leaves the room when her nymphomaniacal roommate Carol (Darlene Bennet) returns home. After exchanging inane chatter like "You should see the delicious undies I bought!", Carol becomes aware of their third wheel - a foreigner named Hannah (Cleo Nova, aka Peggy Steffans-Sarno - in an unflattering blonde wig), whom Bobbi met at the airport and invited to be her guest upon learning that she needed a place to stay. Two men (Michael Lawrence, Buck Starr) knock at the door, identifying themselves as telephone repairmen, but once inside they begin flashing their handguns.

It seems the apartment Bobbi and Carol share has the ideal vantage for their planned assassination of the visiting Prime Minister of Nedea the following morning. It also transpires that Hannah is a native of "Nedea" (I wonder if that's anywhere near Beldad?); indeed, she is the Prime Minister's mistress, who met Bobbi deliberately after her country's secret service pinpointed her apartment as near - but not too near - "His Majesty's" (sic) hotel suite. The would-be assassins pistol-whip her till she spills the exact time of the Prime Minister's scheduled arrival - 6:00 the following morning.

It sounds like there is a lot going on, but after this convoluted build-up, and enough early spice to let us know that the film could deliver if it cared to - a bubble bath scene (Hannah), a shower scene culminating in a PSYCHO-inspired intrusion (Bobbi), and some full-length mirror self-love (Carol) - the film settles into a holding pattern of sit-around-and-wait, with the exception of a surprisingly non-violent (and mostly non-nude) rape scene. The movie stumbles into its most interesting, unexpectedly charming passage when the voluptuous Bobbi falls asleep on the sofa and has a dream about dating Hannah while dressed as a man. This surprising diversion, treated with sweet naïveté, culminates in the foot fetishism expected of Wishman pictures - which may actually have been more the predilection of the recently deceased C. Davis Smith, who photographed the majority of them.

The complicated reasons that bring these various characters together in the same room is ultimately dismissed quickly and with uproarious ease, before unseen police close-in on one of the men in a hilariously protracted burlesque of suspense.

Today, Peggy Steffans has no recollection of making this film, nor any of the other quickies she made with Michael Findlay or Sande Johnsen between "Cleo Nova's" Joe Sarno assignments. Seeing her transplanted from that more ambitious universe to this one really does show how extraordinary and atypical an artist Sarno was in the context of his own times and milieu, and of course it's impossible to gauge the performance Peggy actually gave onset. There's nothing here to suggest that she received any direction whatsoever, other than "sit here, move your leg there," and one can easily believe that the entire film was improvised in no more than a couple of days. The entire cast was required to over-enunciate their line readings, to make the scenes easier to loop.

A TASTE OF FLESH doesn't share the sense of sheer outrageousness that characterizes Doris Wishman's most memorable work (DEADLY WEAPONS, THE AMAZING TRANSPLANT), but for collectors of such arcana, it's short and quirky enough to tickle your curiosity come the next rainy day.

You can order A TASTE OF FLESH (or any other Something Weird release ) through PayPal by addressing your order information and payment to somethingweirdauctions@gmail.com - or by addressing a check or money order directly to SWV, PO Box 33664, Seattle WA 98133.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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Claude Sautet's DICTATOR'S GUNS reviewed

October 14, 2017, 1:07 am

≫ Next: LOST HORIZON - Now With More Found Horizons

≪ Previous: Doris Wishman's A TASTE OF FLESH (1967)

DICTATOR'S GUNS
L'arme à gauche
1965, Something Weird Video
100m 41s, $10 DVD-R, $9.99 download

Reviewed by Special Request!
While it's probably not the first thing that crosses anyone's mind when they think of Something Weird Video, the SWV catalogue is arguably the best resource around when it comes to finding English-friendly copies of European crime pictures. Eddie Constantine! Alain Delon! Jean-Paul Belmondo! Peter van Eyck! Roger Hanin! Giorgio Ardisson! They've got 'em all - just go to their online catalogue and browse the section called "Spies, Thighs and Private Eyes."

One of the very best examples of this genre, and one of the legitimately best films carried by SWV, DICTATOR'S GUNS is a French adaptation of an American novel called AGROUND, written by Charles Williams - whose hardboiled fiction has also been filmed by the likes of Orson Welles (THE DEEP, 1969; based on DEAD CALM - a suspenseful sequel to AGROUND revisiting the two principals), François Truffaut (CONFIDENTIALLY YOURS, 1983; based on THE LONG SATURDAY NIGHT) and Dennis Hopper (THE HOT SPOT, 1990; based on HELL HATH NO FURY). This is the English-dubbed version, which was never released theatrically in the United States, so it had to be culled from a cropped 16mm television syndication print. (The English version was theatrically released in Great Britain as GUNS FOR THE DICTATOR.)

If this film is ever properly rediscovered and accorded an official release by Criterion or some other arthouse label (which could well happen, as its director Claude Sautet also helmed such pictures as CÉSAR AND ROSALIE and Un Coeur en Hiver), it would almost certainly be issued only in French with English subtitles - which would be a tragedy, because this version is the only place to hear and savor the robust villainy of American actor Leo Gordon, who receives what may be his finest dramatic showcase in this picture. (As a curious footnote, Sautet also had an important screenwriting career, which included early work on Georges Franju's EYES WITHOUT A FACE - before Boileau-Narcejac got involved - which places him as one of the likelier suspects to have written the novel of the film credited to "Jean Redon.") This film shares its slowly ratcheting sense of suspense, which Franju likened to twisting the viewer's head off.

Lino Ventura plays Jacques Cournot, an out-of-work skipper sarcastically addressed as "Capitan," who is hired in Santa Domingo by a businessman to inspect a boat called "The Dragon," which is up for sale. He returns to the man who hired him, a playboy type named Hugo Hendrix (Alberto de Mendoza), and gives a positive report and recommends that he propose a counter-offer to Mrs. Rae Osborn (Sylva Koscina), the owner of the vessel. Hendrix claims to have sent a check for $65,000 to Mrs. Osborn but she denies receiving it, and Cournot soon finds himself embroiled in police business for his participation in the deal, as Hendrix disappears along with "The Dragon." Rae asks to meet with Cournot and together they decide to track the boat by hired plane. They find it run aground on a small island in the Caribbean, inhabited not only by Hendrix but also a group of armed smugglers led by Art Morrison (Leo Gordon), who stole the ship to transport seven tons of guns, rifles and ammunition. His cohorts include Ruiz (Antonio Martín) and the expert knife-thrower Keefer (played by someone billed in English as Jack Leonard - who is not the American comedian Jack E. Leonard, as the IMDb misreports).

Once the film's action reaches the boat, it remains limited to the boat and a small island, where the men proceed to laboriously unload more than 30 crates of arms in an effort to lighten the boat and get it back into the water. In the process of this arduous work, some characters die or are injured, and there are also attempts by Cournot and Mrs. Osborn to escape and/or outwit Morrison, who is eventually trapped on the islet in possession of all the weapons and ammunition, which make "The Dragon" something of a shooting gallery that our protagonists must survive while simultaneously brainstorming ways to move the boat to move out of harm's way. It would be wrong to describe what these maneuvers are; it's best to let the film and its nerve-jangling suspense surprise you. That said, the film is equally remarkable for holding one's attention despite being staged with extreme economy, and for braving the elements as its does. The boat setting and the rising tension recalls Polanski's KNIFE IN THE WATER at times, but this is anything but a psychological drama; think ARGOSY Magazine pulp made with the directorial finesse of a PURPLE NOON. This is a Something Weird title that I can unreservedly recommend to anyone.

You can order DICTATOR'S GUNS through PayPal by addressing your order information and payment to somethingweirdauctions@gmail.com - or by addressing a check or money order directly to SWV, PO Box 33664, Seattle WA 98133. You'll be glad you did.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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LOST HORIZON - Now With More Found Horizons

October 16, 2017, 12:00 am

≫ Next: October 30 is... Hammerween!

≪ Previous: Claude Sautet's DICTATOR'S GUNS reviewed

Ronald Colman and Jane Wyatt star in LOST HORIZON (1937).

I watched Sony's newly 4K-restored 80th Anniversary Blu-ray presentation of Frank Capra's LOST HORIZON last night, which is now only 6m shy of its initial preview length. While I continue to enjoy the film a good deal, I find myself increasingly unsure of whether the continued effort to restore this early cut is doing the overall work more damage than service. Though the newly uncovered footage is undeniably interesting, it generally only lengthens scenes already doing their duty, so that the film feels more rambling, unfocused and frankly self-enamored than the last time I saw it (probably the very reason prompting the cuts in the first place).

It's easy to see how Capra could have been seduced into the prospect of making the most of what he had, because few directors before him had been more indulged. The budget, including the construction of the dazzling Shangri-La, reportedly ran to $1.5 million (equal to more than $25,000,000 today), and Capra's initial rough cut is said to have run six hours. There is much about it that could not possibly be bettered (Ronald Colman and Jane Wyatt particularly), but even if those six minutes (represented here by surviving soundtrack and production photos) were recovered, the film would still be lacking answers to some aggravating questions - like why the Russian woman character played by Margo wants so desperately to escape an apparent Paradise.

Shangri-La, designed by Stephen Goossen.

Among the various extras, the disc includes two further deleted scenes not added to the main feature for lack of audio, but the commentator does a remarkably good job of looping them. There is additional footage of a funeral ceremony culled from the only surviving camera negative - which, despite the commentator's heightened endorsement, looked no better to me than anything in the 4K restoration. But it was all too easy to see how Capra and his cinematographer Joseph Walker could have fallen in love with the visual options at hand and gone completely overboard. There is a wonderful Busby Berkeley-type shot of the torch bearers ascending a spiral staircase, seen from below - and it's eye-popping until you realize, my God, this shot is going to need at least three minutes to complete its design!

Also restored is the Harry Cohn-demanded alternate ending, which was in place for most of the film's theatrical release but has not been generally available for somewhere north of 60 years. The two endings pose a difficult choice; the familiar one supports the film's conception of Shangri-La as a form of faith, while the alternate one makes it more tangible and unambiguous and gives the audience exactly what it wants. I like them both, but only one really supports the ideas carefully woven into the story.

Another thing about the ending: are we sure that the actor in protagonist Robert Conway's final closeup is actually Ronald Colman? It doesn't look like him to me, and the uncertainty of this - especially coming after so much stock footage of snowy mountainsides - may be the real reason we respond to having Jane Wyatt brought back there.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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October 30 is... Hammerween!

October 18, 2017, 11:00 am

≫ Next: RIP Umberto Lenzi (1931-2017)

≪ Previous: LOST HORIZON - Now With More Found Horizons

It was now 60 years ago that Hammer Films released their first color horror film, Terence Fisher's THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1957) - and, in commemoration of this important anniversary, some major activity is afoot in the UK. Indicator - the company responsible for two recent very impressive Ray Harryhausen sets (with a third on the way) - will be releasing a box set called HAMMER VOLUME ONE: FEAR WARNING, which will collect four of Hammer's Columbia co-productions from the 1960s: MANIAC, THE GORGON, CURSE OF THE MUMMY'S TOMB and FANATIC (aka DIE! DIE, MY DARLING!). There is another set due in the first quarter of next year, that will likely contain the balance of Hammer's Columbia titles.

VOLUME ONE will include Blu-ray and DVD discs of all titles and be released on October 30, just in time for Halloween. The discs - which I'm told will likely repeat the previous Indicator release format of being in PAL but otherwise region-free - will contain a wealth of extras for each title, mostly of the featurette/video essay variety, with a full audio commentary for THE GORGON by DIABOLIQUE's Kat Ellinger and Samm Deighan, and 32-page booklets for each title with essays by Kim Newman and others. The set will be priced at 42.99 GBP and is available via amazon.co.uk.

Studio Canal also have four coveted Hammer titles in store for October 30 release as "doubleplay" BD/DVD sets (RB and R2), with four more to follow on January 29, 2018 but theirs are being released individually with a cover price of 14.99 GBP. The first four titles are SCARS OF DRACULA, BLOOD FROM THE MUMMY'S TOMB, FEAR IN THE NIGHT and DEMONS OF THE MIND; the next grouping will offer HORROR OF FRANKENSTEIN, DOCTOR JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE, STRAIGHT ON TILL MORNING, and TO THE DEVIL A DAUGHTER. None of the titles have commentaries, but each is supported by an entertaining featurette (18m, roughly) produced and directed by Marcus Hearn in which various Hammer historians (Jonathan Rigby, etc) and even some stars (Valerie Leon, Jenny Hanley) offer memories and notes concerning the various films. I've been able to preview the first four Studio Canal titles and they have never been more beautifully presented on home video: crisp, colorful, loaded with depth, spotless.

Klove (Patrick Troughton) models the SCARS OF DRACULA.

SCARS OF DRACULA (1970), directed by Roy Ward Baker, was the fifth film in Hammer's Dracula franchise starring Christopher Lee (omitting 1960's BRIDES OF DRACULA, which didn't) and also the first in the series to be produced solely by British funding. The script by "John Elder" (longtime Hammer producer Anthony Hinds) is a compendium of familiar series situations, kicked-up with a new emphasis on bloodletting, sadism and bawdiness. Jenny Hanley plays the female lead, Sarah, whose attraction to two brothers - responsible lawyer-to-be Simon (Dennis Waterman) and the bedroom adventurer Paul (Christopher Matthews) - brings her to the attention of Count Dracula (Lee) and his mortal manservant/enabler Klove (former DOCTOR WHO Patrick Troughton). Lee has some impressively fierce scenes but nothing much is done to permeate the film with dread of him, as Terence Fisher did so ably in his early series entries; here, he's a bit too approachable and available. It's Troughton who steals the film as the almost subhuman Klove, who finds redemption for the past crimes he's committed in service by a photograph of Sarah and finally by closer contact with the woman herself. SCARS is more cheaply made than other films in the series, but DP Moray Grant invests it with color and ripe Gothic atmosphere that is a revelation here, in contrast to earlier releases and particularly the turgid-looking US theatrical release prints. I did notice some "day for night" anomalies though, with the sequence of Simon and Sarah's flight from the castle flickering between night and daylight, and Dracula himself resurrected at the outset to look upon an exterior that transitions to daytime.

Valerie Leon.

BLOOD FROM THE MUMMY'S TOMB (1971), based on Bram Stoker's 1903 Egyptian thriller THE JEWEL OF SEVEN STARS, was something of a cursed production having lost its star Peter Cushing after three days of filming (he was called away by his wife's terminal illness, and replaced by Andrew Kier), a crew member (who perished in a motorcycle accident), and finally its director Seth Holt (to a heart attack) all before its last week of shooting. Executive producer Michael Carreras stepped in to direct, and the result is a fascinating hodge-podge - without question one of the more potent Hammer films of the 1970s, but one that always gives me the feeling of having been poorly (or at least incorrectly) assembled at the editing stage.

The lead character, Margaret (Valerie Leon), is introduced while tossing and turning in a nightmare that is repeated midway through the film, and no explanation is ever given for what appears to be the scar of an attempted suicide on one of her wrists. The scenes of the archaeological expedition resulting in the curse of the Egyptian Queen Tera (also Leon) are presented as flashbacks but I suspect these were meant to open the film, and that the miraculously bleeding stump of the Queen was meant to resonate with a later shot revealing Margaret's scar (we get in zoom-in, though we've already seen it). Leon, though dubbed by another actress, has considerable presence and the story (scripted by Christopher Wicking) is compelling for the many ways in which it echoes Stoker's DRACULA: a foreign source of evil transported into the heart of London, the relationship of the story to a madman in an asylum, the forces of good and evil being arranged in two houses within view of each other, the patriarchal governing of the women by older male characters who live to see the women empowered by supernatural evil, and so forth. For reasons well beyond my understanding, someone thought it would be amusing to arrange a two-shot of Margaret and her boyfriend Tod Browning (!) on a bed, Tod on his back with his legs apart, with Margaret in an inverted position facing the camera while eating a banana.

Peter Cushing as the menacing Headmaster in FEAR IN THE NIGHT.

FEAR IN THE NIGHT (1972), written and directed by Jimmy Sangster, is a minor psychological thrillers, a project that dated back to a Sangster script originally submitted in 1963, when he was cranking these out with regularity. It sounds like a joke but it's the story of a young woman repeatedly attacked by someone with a prosthetic limb - and her name is Peg!

A high-strung young Londoner, Peg (Judy Geeson) - we're told she suffered a nervous breakdown six months earlier - is attacked in her apartment, after which she readily agrees to marry her boyfriend Robert (Ralph Bates) and move to the countryside. He's been hired to relocate to a 12-acre estate where he's to look after the aging former headmaster (Peter Cushing) of a private school which now serves as his private residence. Somewhat expectedly, he has a prosthetic arm - and he also has a much younger and not particularly likeable wife (Joan Collins, sporting the same striped vest sweater she wore the same year in TALES FROM THE CRYPT). The premises is full of sheeted furniture and rigged with recordings of past school assemblies, lending to its ghostly ambiance, but what is really going on here has a very rational explanation. About 20 minutes before the end of the picture, it seems to lose all its energy when a major character is excused, but the postscript accrues its own interest and the story resolves in an interestingly ambiguous sort of way. Okay, if a bit on the dull side, mostly due to a preponderance of drab colors and an utter lack of concern for visual atmosphere. A bit hard to believe, considering that the cameraman was Arthur Grant (THE GORGON, THE TOMB OF LIGEIA - and, incidentally, BLOOD FROM THE MUMMY'S TOMB).

Gillian Hills and Robert Hardy in DEMONS OF THE MIND.

DEMONS OF THE MIND (1972), directed by Peter Sykes, was also photographed by Arthur Grant and it is here that we see his work at its latter-day best. Of all the Hammer films in this group, this is the one that actually looks like a classic Hammer film, and there is never any hint of budgetary constraints though they must have been there. Nevertheless, this is a controversial entry among fans, with several of the commentators in the accompanying featurette taken aback by its graphic violence and full-frontal nudity, describing it as "sick" and "unfocused," though the film itself is actually about mental illness and admittedly qualifies as marginal horror at best.

The life of this film began, we're told, as a script called BLOOD WILL HAVE BLOOD, a kind of post-werewolf film about a nobleman who either was or imagined himself to be a former lycanthrope and his twisted attempts to stifle this accursed strain in his deeply inbred bloodline. By the time Sykes and screenwriter Christopher Wicking got through with it, nearly all its references to lycanthropy were discarded. As I see it, what remained may have left the film without a clear relationship to Hammer horror but the end product is an aggressive attempt to share barracks, as it were, with Michael Reeves' highly influential WITCHFINDER GENERAL (aka THE CONQUEROR WORM, 1968), as a study of how the lives of young people were perverted and destroyed by a literally insane patriarchal society.

The film, which chronicles the extreme attempts of one Count Zorn (Robert Hardy) - supported by dubious figureheads of science (Patrick Magee) and religion (Michael Hordern) - to keep apart his incestuously inclined son (Shane Briant, his impressive debut) and daughter (BEAT GIRL's Gillian Hills, remote yet ravishing), even ends with a freeze-frame of a woman's scream to emphasize its debt to Reeves. (The casting shows a similar debt to Stanley Kubrick with several members of the cast being recruited from A CLOCKWORK ORANGE: Magee, Hills, Virginia Wetherell and Jan Adair.) Some of the performances are admittedly over-the-top but perhaps in the same way that Ken Russell's THE DEVILS (1971) is over-the-top, to make the lesson we are being taught about the abuses of power and authority impossible to miss. An ambitious Gothic that falls somewhat sort of its presumed mark, this is nevertheless one of Hammer's most authentic and interesting films of the 1970s.

The individual titles are handsomely packaged and presented, but the supportive content feels minimal. It feels a missed opportunity that Studio Canal did not commission feature-length commentaries - or to include extant ones, as in the case of SCARS OF DRACULA, whose Anchor Bay (USA) and EMI (UK DVDs included a commentary by Christopher Lee and director Roy Ward Baker, both now deceased. Take care to preserve your old copy for future reference!

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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RIP Umberto Lenzi (1931-2017)

October 19, 2017, 6:51 am

≫ Next: Bringing Back the Bippy

≪ Previous: October 30 is... Hammerween!

I was very sorry to awaken this morning to the news of director Umberto Lenzi’s passing at the age of 86. He seldom received the critical respect due to someone like himself, who had done so much heavy lifting to keep the Italian cinema going, but though he had not made a film since 1992, there is a great sense of much more than himself coming to a stop with this news. Lenzi loved the cinema and was one of a handful of early fans and critics who muscled their way into the business, becoming its first generation of postmodernist grindhouse directors.

Most serious discussions of the Italian popular cinema in English tend to focus on horror films and thrillers, which tended to place Lenzi’s passionate, tireless, industrious work among the also-rans - if not in other categories altogether. From a historian’s perspective, he was usually making the wrong kind of film at the wrong time to stand out. At the height of the Italian gothics, he was focusing on sword and sandal pictures, costume pictures; his KRIMINAL anticipated Bava’s DIABOLIK: he also anticipated the return of the giallo into fashion with his series of Carroll Baker thrillers (PARANOIA, SO SWEET... SO PERVERSE, A QUIET PLACE TO KILL) but they didn’t exploit the sense of style that defined such films; and then, at the height of the giallo, he was making some of the best poliziotesschi of the day (ALMOST HUMAN, VIOLENT NAPLES, THE TOUGH ONES, THE CYNIC THE RAT AND THE FIST), hard-hitting films that took awhile to find their international following. Several of his best thrillers were scripted by Ernesto Gastaldi.

In the end, he left us a lot of fun, memorable, unpretentious pictures including SANDOKAN THE GREAT and its sequel THE PIRATES OF MALYSIA, the SuperSeven spy adventures starring Roger Browne, SPASMO, EYEBALL, SEVEN BLOODSTAINED ORCHIDS, OASIS OF FEAR, and those unforgettable doozies THE MAN FROM DEEP RIVER, NIGHTMARE CITY, and CANNIBAL FEROX (aka MAKE THEM DIE SLOWLY).

Grazie per l’intrattenimento, Maestro.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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Bringing Back the Bippy

October 21, 2017, 10:29 am

≫ Next: THE NEST OF THE CUCKOO BIRDS reviewed

≪ Previous: RIP Umberto Lenzi (1931-2017)

Dan Rowan and the lovely Dick Martin.

Maybe it's the state of our world, but humor has become a good deal more important to me lately. When I was in junior high (secondary school) and planning a way I might emulate my older fanzine-publishing friends, I spent some serious time daydreaming about launching a humor fanzine; I was going to call it LOONY and I had even designed a mascot for its cover: Irving Lathbeap, a shameless hayseed variation on Alfred E. Neuman. (His surname came from a list of anagrams found in one of my textbooks.) I ended up doing a couple of horror film fanzines instead. While my nostalgia for classic horror films ultimately won out and put me on a scenic route to my eventual career, I must admit to an almost-as-strong nostalgic pull for the comedy I absorbed in my pre- and early-teens: MAD and CRACKED magazine, W.C. Fields, George Carlin, The Firesign Theatre. And recently, I've been inclining back to all that: I've been doting on my MAD Magazine collection and filling in some gaps; perusing some cheaply acquired early issues of CRACKED and SICK (I was amazed to discover that SICK actually once carried reviews of off-the-wall movies like Marco Ferreri's THE APE WOMAN!); reading for the first time Harvey Kurtzman's work on HUMBUG and TRUMP, recently collected in beautiful hardcover editions; and delighting in Time-Life's recent release of ROWAN AND MARTIN'S LAUGH-IN: THE COMPLETE FIRST SEASON (4 DVDs, $14.99).

For many years, it has been impossible to see LAUGH-IN in its original form. The official word was that the original broadcast versions of ROWAN AND MARTIN'S LAUGH-IN no longer survived, that the tapes had been cut-down and reassembled into half-hour shows for syndication, without any thought to preserving them in their original form. Then, just last month, Time-Life began to unleash a veritable tsunami of LAUGH-IN viewing options. In addition to the First Season set, there is THE BEST OF ROWAN AND MARTIN'S LAUGH-IN (12 DVDs each, $178.99) and ROWAN AND MARTIN'S LAUGH-IN: THE COMPLETE SERIES (all six seasons on 38 discs, $254.95). Time-Life will be following through with the COMPLETE SECOND SEASON set in early 2018, and you can also find THE COMPLETE SERIES available directly from their website, payable on a convenient installment plan.

Tiny Tim's national debut stuns Dick Martin.

I saw the first season during its original run when I was eleven years old, and because so much of the material was either news-topical or risqué, a certain amount of it went over my head, but the sheer verve and invention of the delivery made it funny anyway. The impact of LAUGH-IN's premiere is something I can only compare to Beatlemania and Batmania; I had the tie-in paperback, the soundtrack album, even a run of LAUGH-IN magazines. In a sense, NBC and the show's producers manufactured this excitement (didn't they all, to some extent?) but its carousel-like format, its constant influx of new regulars and surprise guest stars (John Wayne! Tiny Tim! Hugh Downs! Richard Nixon!), its incessant dropping of new catch phrases into the zeitgeist (Sock it to me! Here come the Judge! You bet your sweet bippy! Look that up in your Funk and Wagnall's. Goodnight, Dick!) kept it exciting for a remarkably long time. Yes, you probably had to be there - and now you can.

Jo Anne Worley's MAD magazine ad.

Revisiting the first season now, I have found myself not only getting more out of the comedy and better appreciating the broad mix of its talent, but more conscious of its myriad influences - notably old time radio, MAD magazine (series regular Jo Anne Worley had been a cast member of the Broadway hit THE MAD SHOW and had even participated in at least one of MAD's own faux ads), PLAYBOY, THE TONIGHT SHOW WITH JOHNNY CARSON, Richard Lester films, THE MONKEES (early episodes included primitive rock video segments), certain kaleidoscopic European films like Louis Malle's ZAZIE, and the vast pop cultural landscape that was the 1960s. It's also fascinating to observe how hugely influential the show and its veterans became. LAUGH-IN was certainly one of the models for MONTY PYTHON'S FLYING CIRCUS and SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, even PLAYBOY AFTER DARK, and Arte Johnson's timid Polish immigrant character who suddenly bursts into apoplectic Broadway show tunes shows a very direct line to Andy Kaufman's Foreign Man character. Well before SNL, several members of LAUGH-IN's uniquely wacky ensemble branched off into film careers (Goldie Hawn, Lily Tomlin, Eileen Brennan, Henry Gibson) but most of them gravitated to drama rather than comedy. Even Rowan and Martin failed to spin-off into a feature film career, with 1969's THE MALTESE BIPPY faring no better commercially than their forgotten 1958 film debut ONCE UPON A HORSE.

The first issue of LAUGH-IN Magazine.

There might be some understandable trepidation about referring back to 50 year old topical humor, but - as with classic Warner Bros. cartoons, which pack their own supply of sometimes head-scratching WWII references and movie and radio star impressions - most of what's here is funny because it's wild and crazy. If you get the historical associations, it's remarkable how often the jokes strike one as still relevant or even prophetic. (I haven't seen it yet, but I seem to remember one of the show's "News of the Past, Present and Future" jokes referring to future President Ronald Reagan - and getting a big laugh.) The FIRST SEASON set also includes the trial balloon special from September 1967 (hilarious) and highlights from a 25th Anniversary reunion (where Dick Martin scores some bonus points with a sober and clear-eyed recollection of exactly what his late partner Dan Rowan brought to their partnership).

The surviving complete material is sourced from analog tape masters, which isn't of good enough quality to warrant Blu-ray presentation, but is certainly good enough for the viewer to see the difference between what was shot on tape (the in-studio stuff) and what was shot on 16mm (the dancing body paint girls, the exterior vignettes, the guy in the rainwear falling over on the tricycle). I recommend you give the COMPLETE FIRST SEASON set a try (at $15, the price is right) - especially if you've seen the cannibalized half-hours and imagine that the hour shows are just more of the same. Those TV syndication compendiums were cut to please the short attention spans of the lowest common denominator and omitted some of the show's cleverest musical comedy extravaganzas. If you're at all like me, you'll probably find yourself pining for the COMPLETE SERIES box before you know it.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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THE NEST OF THE CUCKOO BIRDS reviewed

October 29, 2017, 1:44 pm

≫ Next: Kino Lorber's Restored SINCE YOU WENT AWAY (1944)

≪ Previous: Bringing Back the Bippy

Bert Williams (1922-2001) was a Florida-based actor whose career reached back to episodes of SEA HUNT and THE WILD WOMEN OF WONGO. In 1965, he rolled the dice to become a multi-hyphenate by writing, producing, directing, starring in and even editing and partly photographing an obscure and much sought-after project called THE NEST OF THE CUCKOO BIRDS. The film got next to no exposure but it became the stuff of legend when a quirky, artistic-looking ad for the film ran in one of those old Film Market issues of VARIETY, promising a film that delivered "Sadism,""Horror,""Stark Naked Drama" and (most appetizing of all) "Quack Love." Besides all this, there was a notation stating that the picture had been named "Primitive Art Film of the Year," though without mention of by whom. It was one of those things: anyone who had seen the ad and heard it mentioned by someone else who had seen it bonded to them like a brother. The film was assumed to be lost, and some even assumed it might never have been completed - though it now appears that it did receive at least one playdate because the only known print was located in an abandoned movie theater. In the last couple of years, other surviving materials on the film turned up in a much-ballyhooed eBay auction, which I assume is where Nicolas Winding Refn comes in.

Refn - reknowned Danish director of such films as THE NEON DEMON and DRIVE and the winner of a similar eBay auction that left him the owner of Andy Milligan's celluloid rarities and scraps - has now unveiled THE NEST OF THE CUCKOO BIRDS absolutely free - as the opening salvo of his forthcoming byNWR.com streaming site, which premiered last night in piggy-back fashion on the art film streaming site MUBI. Dale Berry's HOT THRILLS AND WARM CHILLS (1967), restored with materials from the Something Weird Video collection, will be premiering in a few days. Refn's channel will be premiering independently next February.

Any connoisseur of the exploitation cinema's strangest arcana will want to investigate THE NEST OF THE CUCKOO BIRDS - a title whose plurality, its poster suggests, was a last-minute idea that sort of spoils what should have been its biggest surprise. According to the IMDb, the title of its original script was THE VIOLENT SICK. Williams (who bears a distracting resemblance to Donald Trump, as he would look without the elaborate comb-over) plays Johnson, an undercover cop who fails in his attempt to bust some moonshiners in the Everglades but manages to escape brutalized captivity by swimming to safety through gator-infested waters. Before he passes out from exhaustion, he witnesses one of his pursuers being knifed to death by a horrific, chimerical murderess - blonde, beautiful and naked, save for a plastic mask. He awakens in the Cuckoo Bird Inn, a concealed bed-and-breakfast run by Mr. and Mrs. Pratt, who have the funniest, most hostile hospitality seen onscreen since THE OLD DARK HOUSE. Before Johnson can ask a single question, he is warned by Mrs. Pratt - a former actress, she boasts - to mind his own business and respect their covert way of doing things. Being a cop, Johnson can't quite manage this and discovers that his cantankerous, volatile hosts keep their beautiful, blonde, teenage daughter Lisa (Jackie Scelza) chained in a room at the top of the house like some kind of hotcha Saul Femm, because she's supposed to be "mad." Though she's half his age or more, Johnson warms up to Lisa, hovering over her, touching her, giving her little kisses "for luck" after he makes plans to help her escape.

What sounds like a fairly straightforward crime picture equally indebted to Tennessee and Charles Williams takes some abrupt, trap-door detours into bizarre, expressionistic, Southern Gothic horror (and even a graphic gore sequence or two) as the Pratts' peculiar lifestyle is cracked open to show just how sick a family living this remotely from society can be. What we ultimately learn is not all that unexpected, but there is value in the telling and a measure of delight even in the film's sometimes incoherent construction. The appearances of the aforementioned murderess are accompanied by some inspired, screeching sound effects and sudden flurries of artful editing, which suggest an attempt on Williams' part to cop something of PSYCHO's shower murder's technique; however, he throws in the curve of holding the action in frame perfectly still, so that time is literally suspended as the viewer is bombarded with fabricated, dynamic "still" images. There is a good deal of the film that is artless, lame, at times verging on agony, but it's all unpredictably organized with shufflings of original material and ancient stock footage that are unaccountably striking, dream-like, and like little else the movies have shown us. This isn't one of those square peg movies that refuse to fit into the round holes of conventional cinema; it's a shape that doesn't quite have a name. As I watched, I was occasionally reminded of some other movies - POOR WHITE TRASH, NIGHT TIDE, THE INTRUDER (for its coarse look and technique more than anything else), ALICE SWEET ALICE, EATEN ALIVE, the aforementioned THE OLD DARK HOUSE (the 1932 version, which I had just seen earlier the same day, which made it easier to identify the shared story points), Ivan Varnett's THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER (1950) and THE DUNGEONS OF HARROW - but only in flashes. It's ultimately its own curious, lopsided, intermittently wondrous thing.

One of the film's most indelible touches is the original music score by Williams' wife Peggy, which consists of only two songs, "In The Nest of the Cuckoo Bird Inn" and "Lisa" - both accompanied by a reverberating, pre-Lynchian electric guitar and avant-garde percussive, plucking effects. In an online thread responding to last night's premiere, I read a posting by a guitarist who said he couldn't resist picking up his own guitar and playing along with it. I can fully understand this; the film's music, though probably its most purely enjoyable, competently developed layer, has so much open space that it feels still under construction and invites an extra hand.

Refn has chosen his moment well, on the cusp of Halloween, and he has called attention to it with the equivalent of a Dead Sea Scroll of exploitation cinema. It's an audacious introduction for byNWR.com, to say the least, and bodes well for curiosities yet to come. Of course, one can't help wishing for download and hard copy availability of material this unusual and coveted, and perhaps these will eventually be among the surprises in store.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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Kino Lorber's Restored SINCE YOU WENT AWAY (1944)

November 2, 2017, 10:08 am

≫ Next: Update

≪ Previous: THE NEST OF THE CUCKOO BIRDS reviewed

Last night I decided to watch my advance copy of Kino Lorber Studio Classics' Blu-ray of David O. Selznick'sSINCE YOU WENT AWAY(1944), starring Claudette Colbert, Jennifer Jones, Shirley Temple, Joseph Cotten, Hattie McDaniel, Agnes Moorehead and Monty Woolley - not to mention Soda the Bulldog. I put it on without much familiarity; not only did I not realize that I was committing to a restored "roadshow" version nearly three hours in length, but I was also laboring under the confused impression that this was one of a couple of mainstream pictures from Kino Lorber for which my friend Kat Ellinger had recorded an audio commentary for it - which would have been a taxing job, given its 177-minute length, complete with Overture, Intermission, and Ent'racte!*

I watched the first 20 minutes or so, wondering what Kat would have to say about this and that... and then, slowly but surely, I found myself drawn into the wartime melodrama of its lonely yet optimistic Americana - hook, line and sinker. For a film so deeply rooted in dark fears, and guilty of the occasional racist wartime remark or caricature, it's as inviting and heartwarming as a Christmas movie. It also reminded me strongly of times in living memory when Uncle Sam was still a beloved relative, when America was far less psychotic and manipulated to madness by our politicians and media. It's manipulative in its own way, mind you, but I can think of few nicer ways to start leaning toward the holidays.

Superbly restored over its re-release length by an additional 45 minutes, it's also beautifully photographed in B&W, with lots of long shadows and inventive shadowplay. Additional kudos for its inventive use of future BATMAN Commissioner Gordon, Neil Hamilton.

It streets November 21. Put it on your shopping list.

* I'm told that Kat and Samm Deighan actually share commentary duties on another David O. Selznick film, I'LL BE SEEING YOU, and LOVE WITH A PROPER STRANGER - both from KL Studio Classics. I am familiar with neither film but I will watch both if only to enjoy their commentary work, which is always top-notch.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

↧

Update

November 12, 2017, 12:14 pm

≫ Next: Thanksgiving Special: BAT PUSSY reviewed

≪ Previous: Kino Lorber's Restored SINCE YOU WENT AWAY (1944)

I know, I know. I was doing extremely well there for awhile, with new postings every day or practically every day, and I have dropped off again lately.

Not that I am being unproductive - anything but. I'm still turning out new audio commentaries like clockwork, including three for Kino Lorber's forthcoming Season One box set of THE OUTER LIMITS and another for Arrow Academy's upcoming THE WITCHES (the 1967 portmanteau film starring Silvana Mangano); I have already recorded 18 this year alone, and I've agreed to do more before the year is out.

Additionally, I'm working on two books simultaneously. I've already told you about my Joe Sarno project (for which I recently received an enthusiastic note of interest from a publisher I approached) but I have also agreed to write a couple of monographs for Electric Dreamhouse Press in the UK. One of these will be devoted to Georges Franju's JUDEX (1963), but for a variety of reasons, I've been finding it difficult to start that one.

It is now exactly one week ago that I started work in earnest on the other monograph, devoted to the Edgar Allan Poe anthology film SPIRITS OF THE DEAD (HISTOIRES EXTRAORDINAIRES, 1968), with its stories directed by Roger Vadim, Louis Malle and Federico Fellini. Sometimes it's impossible to get the merry-go-round turning, and sometimes you have to grab on and hold firm, it starts spinning so fast. I had an astounding first week. I became so completely absorbed in my work that the rest of the world seemed to disappear - and considering the way the world is going, this is not such a bad thing anymore. But since last Sunday, I've compiled close to 42,000 words - and the length requirement advised by Electric Dreamhouse is only 30,000. No worries: my editor Neil Snowdon has advised me to follow my Muse and see where it takes me, which is what all writers yearn to hear, so I am sticking to it.

I am not spending too much time on making everything perfect; I'm producing a rough draft to see what information I have before organizing it all into a working system. I am approaching each of the three episodes as I do when writing audio commentaries, while also working in quotations and data from other sources. Right now, I have most of what I need for the first two stories, but I still need to synthesize my data and write a definitive critical assessment of each. I am just beginning my work on the Fellini segment, which - the more I contemplate it - is probably my single favorite piece of cinema. Every frame of that film is a staggering work of art, and that's how I intend to analyze it. It turned my head upside down when I first saw the movie at the age of 14 and I've never been the same since.

So, if you don't see any activity here on the blog, I apologize - but bear in mind that it's almost certainly because there is a great deal of activity being focused elsewhere that is bound to find its way to you, some happy day.

In the meantime, stay warm, stay well... and stay interested!

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

↧

Thanksgiving Special: BAT PUSSY reviewed

November 25, 2017, 2:51 pm

≫ Next: Filmstruck Over Mario Bava

≪ Previous: Update

Almost 25 years ago, I opened my novel THROAT SPROCKETS with a detailed, comic description of a porn flick based on BATMAN. When I did this, I was consciously spoofing one of the trappings of vampire films - the bat - rather than the comic book character or the television series. Knowing that a lot of hardcore films are designed as adult spoofs of other movies, I assumed at the time that there was such a film out there, but I certainly didn't know of one. And so I invented Twatgirl, Commissioner Hardon, the Diddler and other gut-busters - a far cry from what has now exploded back into cult movie consciousness in the form of a rediscovered (if it was ever discovered in the first place) Triple X wedge of mystification entitled, pardon the expression, BAT PUSSY.

If you pride yourself on being an habitué of any still-relevant social media or blogging outlets, you have no doubt heard some passing reference to this phenomenon BAT PUSSY is a new Blu-ray release from AGFA (American Genre Film Archive) and Something Weird Video, previously released by Something Weird on VHS and DVD-R as part of their Bucky's Dragon Art Theatre Triple XXX Double Feature series. In a fascinating story delineated in the disc's accompanying booklet in an essay called "I Saved BAT PUSSY," Mike McCarthy recalls how a former band mate of his, Bill Eaker, became an employee of a Memphis, TN fleapit called the Paris Adult Theater which eventually closed with a ton of obscure 16mm prints locked inside. McCarthy (who had been given a tour of the premises by Bill and saw a 600' reel identified as BAT PUSSY on the leader) called west coast film savior Mike Vraney of Something Weird, who shot out of his seat at the news. Consequently, McCarthy brokered a deal between Vraney and the Paris Adult Theater owners to take all that pesky forgotten celluloid off their hands for a princely thousand dollars. It was the single biggest acquisition of film prints in the history of the company.

As Vraney was screening the fruits of his long distance sexcavation back in the Pacific northwest, he eventually threaded up BAT PUSSY and couldn't believe what he saw. He insisted that everyone on the SWV payroll take a gawk at it. And now you, too, can share that experience.

If you read the fine print on the back of the BAT PUSSY packaging, you will see at a glance that no one knows who directed it, or in what year it was filmed. All that really seems to be known about the film is that is stars someone going by the name "Dora Dildo" in the title role. (It isn't explained where this information came from.) If you listen to the audio commentary, which is more of a free-for-all including Something Weird's Lisa Petrucci and Tim Lewis as special guests, someone points out that the issue of SCREW magazine early in the film dates from 1970, and then - if I am remembering correctly - goes on to deduce from this information that the film must therefore date from 1968 or 1969. I am assuming, at the very least, that adult beverages were involved, as they probably should be when confronting BAT PUSSY. To the contrary, it looks very 1970-71 to me - like Herschell Gordon Lewis' THE PSYCHIC, without the glitz - which would mean that this really wasn't intended as a timely send-up of the 1966 TV series, as described. If anything, it was intended as an untimely send-up of something that was well into local TV reruns by that time.

Buddy and Sam.

The featurette (technically, as it runs only 55 minutes) opens with Buddy, a loud, tattooed, appreciative reader of SCREW magazine, showing an image inside the paper to his extremely freckly, plump, bouffanted wife Sam, who is having trouble enticing him into bed with her. When she promises Buddy that she could do the same to him, he strips down and heads over there with all the enthusiasm of a kid in line for a ride at an amusement park. They proceed to work at it until an alarm goes off at Bat Pussy Headquarters, alerting Bat Pussy that someone is having sex without her - apparently a no-no in Gothum City (DC Comics - pay close attention to the spelling here!). So she breaks in, breaks up what really isn't happening much anyway, doffs the costume we barely get to see, and it becomes a slightly more enthusiastic but still more chaotic than vigorous threesome. As summarized by Lisa Petrucci in her booklet contribution, it's "just three homely people with thick southern drawls hurling insults at each other and bumping uglies in a makeshift room with an unkempt bed with pink satin sheets."

If you are wondering whether or not BAT PUSSY is hardcore, I must report that Buddy's performance rather mitigates that definition; however, Sam gives the viewer more freckle-framed core than the eye can stand. Fortunately for those ticket buyers who demand some form of penetration, the budget extended to having a double for Buddy standing by, in the form of a 5 & 10 Cent Store strap-on. The art direction extended to said copy of SCREW and cans of Pledge and beer that come and go, which is more than we can say for Buddy. The camera stays planted in a single position for most of the picture, the cast frequently makes eye contact and even speaks to the director, but the sound drops out when he replies. He wasn't taking ANY changes with having his voice recognized.

AGFA and Something Weird have treated this posterity-defying freak show to a 2K restoration, proving that irony is not dead. I have not seen the original VHS presentation, but it's said that once-indistinct, colorless blobs can now be savored as the distinct, colorful blob that is Bat Pussy's Hippity Hop, her preferred mode of transportation. Everything her is first take, so we even get to see her fall off of it once or twice. There is a moment when she pauses to shut down (I think) a purse snatching, with everyone viewed from a preposterous distance. The commentators chalk this up to technical ineptitude, but I suspect the folks who agreed to play these non-sexual roles didn't want to be recognized as part of the production by their neighbors.

Boing, boing, boing...

I must admit, as a conscientious reviewer, that I watched BAT PUSSY in absolutely the wrong way. First of all, I watched it alone - and to be honest, I switched from the actual soundtrack to the audio commentary early on, so I didn't get to hear some of the apparently hilarious and unscripted barbs being tossed back and forth by Buddy and Sam, whom ring finger evidence suggests may have been an actual couple. They reminded me a lot of some of the grown-ups I actually knew in childhood, which raised the creepiness bar terrifically. Lisa and Tim are joined on the commentary track by several folks from AGFA. As I said earlier, no one really knows anything about the film itself, but there is one edge-of-your-seat eureka when someone identifies the tattoo on Buddy's ass as biker ink that narrows his unimaginable story down to the vicinity of Arkansas. But the commentary serves as an illustration of how the film is best viewed - in slap-happy, condescending, un-offendable mixed company, because this is not something to be taken seriously as cinema, much less - infinitely much less - as eroticism. Viewed on its own terms, BAT PUSSY is far more likely to give people the idea that sex is fantastically overrated, if not just plain wrong.

Also included on the disc is a bonus feature from the same theater raid, ROBOT LOVE SLAVES (53:59, originally titled TOO MUCH LOVING and retitled by Mike Vraney); the HD debut of the standard '50s educational amusement DATING DO'S AND DON'TS (12:28, reputed to be written and possibly also directed by Edward D. Wood, Jr.); almost a half-hour's worth of "Crime Smut Trailers"; and other surprises.

The disc is region-free and the films are presented in their original filming ratio of 1.33:1, which means you WILL see the boom mic dipping into frame now and then. Believe me, your sense of verisimilitude is safe. As for your other senses... you tell me!

BAT PUSSY is obtainable through most usual channels (not Amazon, apparently), but I recommend you order directly from Something Weird Video, where you can also view a NSFW trailer. Their price also compares favorably with others I've seen.

BAT PUSSY. Grab yours today!

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

↧

Filmstruck Over Mario Bava

December 1, 2017, 10:25 am

≫ Next: Tim Lucas Audio Commentaries Released in 2017

≪ Previous: Thanksgiving Special: BAT PUSSY reviewed

Taking to the air.

A little over a month ago, I was invited down to Atlanta to visit the Turner Studios and participate in a promotional film about Mario Bava for the streaming site Filmstruck. They're the home of the Criterion Channel and its staggering catalogue of international cinema, as well as many other monthly film exclusives, online essays, and even a new podcast. I've never been overly fond of travel but they caught me between jobs and did everything but carry me there in my pajamas. They sent a car for me, picked me up at my front door, flew me down, provided first-rate lodgings, fed me, and generally treated me like a king. They have a terrific, creative team down there.

Yours truly in the Makeup room.

I was also happy to be able to take advantage of the trip to spend some quality time with long-distance amigo Bret Wood, an occasional VIDEO WATCHDOG contributor (starting his BLUE VELVET coverage in our 4th issue, way back in 1990) and currently the producer of all my Kino Lorber audio commentary assignments as well as a talented indie filmmaker in his own right. (His most recent film THE UNWANTED is given a glowing report by John-Paul Checkett in our Farewell issue.) I told the producers at Filmstruck that Bret knew a great deal about Bava himself, having played a role in the restoration of most of his work for home video, so he was also recruited for the shoot and shares the final 14-minute result with me, so capably assembled by producer Tim Reilly and his editor.

Reunited with Bret Wood in the Filmstruck studios.

Filmstruck has something like 11 different Mario Bava films in their library, all in High Definition, so it's a great way to get your feet wet if you're a newcomer to Bava or have had to be selective with your Blu-ray purchases. There is also a lot to be said for paying a low monthly rate for having near-total access to all that is Criterion (how about all the Zatoichi and Baby Cart films for starters?), not to mention some mind-boggling titles they own but have not as yet released, including the original version of BLACK LIZARD (a gender-bending crime musical!), numerous Bulldog Drummond programmers, and my favorite movie of the moment, Vadim-Malle-Fellini's Edgar Allan Poe omnibus SPIRITS OF THE DEAD. Follow the link above and find out more about it.

And here's a link to the promotional Mario Bava piece that Bret and I did. Enjoy! And if you do, let them know about it - maybe they'll have me back to talk about some other things.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

↧

Tim Lucas Audio Commentaries Released in 2017

December 12, 2017, 2:37 pm

≫ Next: My Favorite Blu-rays of 2017

≪ Previous: Filmstruck Over Mario Bava

To better guide you in your holiday shopping, here - by popular demand (people ask, if not demand) - is a list of all my audio commentary work released this past year. I have included links (just click on the titles) that will be both useful to you and helpful to me, as is in keeping with the holiday spirit.

Death Walks On High Heels, Arrow Video

Death Walks At Midnight, Arrow Video

Dr. Orloff's Monster, Redemption/Kino Lorber

The Skull, Kino Lorber

One Million Years B.C., Kino Lorber

Lifeboat, Kino Lorber

Caltiki the Immortal Monster, Arrow Video

Der Mude Tod / Destiny (re-recording of Destiny commentary), Eureka!/Masters of Cinema UK

Compulsion, Kino Lorber

Die Toten Augen des Dr. Dracula, Koch Media (Kill, Baby... Kill! - Germany)

Kill, Baby... Kill!, Kino Lorber US (new commentary, minor differences to Koch Media version)

Kill, Baby... Kill!, Arrow Video UK (new commentary, minor differences to Koch Media version)

Erik the Conqueror, Arrow Video (new commentary)

Vibrations (included in All the Sins of Sodom/Vibrations; Film Movement)

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (Kino Lorber Studio Classics)

Roy Colt and Winchester Jack (Kino Lorber)

The Incredible Shrinking Man (Arrow Video)

Destiny, released as part of Fritz Lang: The Silent Films, Kino Lorber

In addition to these (some of which were recorded in late 2016), I have already recorded another eight commentaries still awaiting release, and assignments to deliver several more! Those will be released sometime next year.

Coming Soon: My picks for my favorite Blu-rays of 2017.

(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

↧

My Favorite Blu-rays of 2017

December 14, 2017, 4:13 pm

≫ Next: Someday I Need To Get Organizized

≪ Previous: Tim Lucas Audio Commentaries Released in 2017

1. FRITZ LANG: THE SILENT FILMS

(Kino Classics)
If you told me that my two top choices this year would be devoted to silent films, I wouldn't have believed you - but this mammoth box set overwhelms everything else that came out this year, at least if one overlooks Criterion's 100 YEARS OF OLYMPIC FILMS 1912-2012 (which I do, because sports documentaries don't interest me). It's true that a certain amount of this set reissues earlier Kino Lorber releases of individual Lang classics (DESTINY - with a commentary by yours truly, DR MABUSE THE GAMBLER, METROPOLIS, SIEGFRIED, SPIES, THE WOMAN IN THE MOON), but it also introduces four other titles to high definition for the first time, including the rarely seen and truly baroque and majestic THE PLAGUE OF FLORENCE (1919), an adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Masque of the Red Death" with its own unique, haunting, violin-sawing personification of Death. Therefore, it's not only recommended but would constitute a cornerstone of any home video library; to watch the films in this set is receive a crash course in the formation of what we know today as popular cinema - science fiction, fantasy, crime, horror, it's all here - but also a compendium of visual style from one of the most sophisticated of all movie stylists. It's gripping as entertainment, illuminating as history, and indispensable as education. You cannot know cinema without knowing Lang.

2. THE LOST WORLD (Flicker Alley)
The film restoration of the year: Flicker Alley's 2K restoration of this seminal dinosaur adventure from 1925 miraculously reinstates a further 11 minutes of footage, assembled from as many different sources - reportedly adding the earliest of Willis O'Brien's stop-motion animation effects work filmed for the production - so that a film that ran only about an hour within living memory has now almost doubled its length to something near its original running time. Bright, vividly colored, and scored by Robert Israel in ways that offer occasional tips of the hat to Tarzan and King Kong, it's a delightful trip back in time - and, for the first time, the film feels almost completely whole and therefore more accessible to criticism. Seeing it again, I was impressed to note how many scenes influenced scenes in later features - most obviously the work of Ray Harryhausen, but also something as unexpectedly related as Hammer's THE SCARS OF DRACULA, which includes a suspenseful rope escape scene indebted to one here. An accompanying booklet encapsulates the story of the film's restoration history by Serge Bromberg, and the extras include such highlights as an excellent commentary by Nicolas Ciccone, outtakes from a theatrical trailer, and three of O'Brien's most important short films.

3. THE FABULOUS BARON MUNCHAUSEN (Second Sight, UK)
See full review here.

4. BARRY LYNDON (Criterion)
As the years go by, this dark horse continues to cement itself as my favorite Kubrick film. Granted, it has been included in two or three different Blu-ray packages prior to this, so I can understand those who feel it's been too many trips to the well - or the wallet, as the case may be. That said, this is much more than a supplementary upgrade. This is the film's first 4K presentation, it's first-ever home video release in its true 1.66:1 aspect ratio, and it also unveils a brand new 5.1 mix (in addition to the theatrical mono version); taken together, these technological boons make an already extraordinary film even more beautiful, powerfully musical, and deeply moving, building to a finale of almost godlike irony and stoicism. Accompanied by excellent documentary shorts and interviews about the film, about Kubrick, and about the new 5.1 mix, with a stellar booklet containing new writing on the film by Geoffrey O'Brien. Other fine Criterion titles this year include GHOST WORLD, TWIN PEAKS FIRE WALK WITH ME, Orson Welles' OTHELLO, and Hitchcock's THE LODGER: A STORY OF THE LONDON FOG and REBECCA.

5. THE OLD DARK HOUSE(Cohen Media)
If you were born in the 1980s or later, you may wonder what all the excitement is about because so much of Hollywood history has been presented to you on a gleaming digital platter. But this is a classic Universal horror film, directed by James Whale and starring Boris Karloff and Ernest Thesiger (not to mention Melvyn Douglas, Gloria Stuart, and Charles Laughton, the actual husband to the Bride of Frankenstein) that was not part of the famous "Shock Theater" TV package of the 1950s and '60s, so the Baby Boomers responsible for that Monster Kid demographic spike grew up longing for it over surviving still photos in the pages of FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND. It's a kind of Rosetta Stone of black comedy, a remote ancestor of THE ADDAMS FAMILY. Curtis Harrington saved the film from extinction while working at Universal making GAMES in 1967 but it took a long time for the film to be reintroduced into circulation, which it had to do through secondary print sources. After decades of grubby bootleg tapes, an okay LaserDisc release, and a moderately better DVD, this 4K restoration - which I've also seen shown theatrically - is a true revelation, unearthing details of art direction and nuances of performance, not to mention Gloria Stuart's svelte physicality, and upping the ante of this movie from wild and woolly curiosity to a genuine masterpiece. Two audio commentaries, interviews with Sara Karloff and Curtis Harrington, and other extras complete the package.

6. STORY OF SIN(Arrow Video)
I've been an admirer of the works of Walerian Borowczyk for some time, and my appreciation was certainly broadened by Arrow's BORO box set of a few years ago, which collected a brace of his earliest features and shorts, along with a delicious collection of his short fiction. But my admiration too a quantum leap a few years ago with my discovery of this film, which seems to me the most perfect and thrilling distillation of his style and thematic obsessions. Based on a Stefan Zeromski novel from 1908, it's a period piece about a young woman named Ewa (Grazyna Dlugolecka) whose obsession with a man she barely knows drives her to leave her repressive home and embark on a life of amorality and crime, where each of her decisions seems to expose her to greater humiliation, exploitation and horror. This is the kind of film, so delicate yet exact in its attention to detail, that Blu-ray presentation (2K in this case) benefits it in unexpected ways; its understated beauty, which extends to the delicacy and occasional fury of Dlugolecka's performance, only becomes fully accessible once the image acquires this level of presence. Filling out an already magnanimous package is an exceptionally fine commentary by Samm Deighan and Kat Ellinger; two previously unavailable Borowczyk shorts with optional commentary; superb video essays by Borowczyk authority Daniel Bird; an illuminating David Thompson short on Borowczyk's use of classical music; and interviews with Dlugolecka and others associated with the film and its publicity.

7. CALTIKI THE IMMORTAL MONSTER (Arrow Video)
This is another of the most important restorations of the year. In some ways, it's even more vital than THE OLD DARK HOUSE which was at least watchable before; this BD imbues CALTIKI with a high gloss that was never part of its image on this side of the ocean, due to Allied Artists' cheap duplication work and overly dark TV syndication prints. Now we can see that this 1950s Italian blob movie - co-directed by Riccardo Freda and its cameraman/special effects man Mario Bava - is more triumph over budget and practical restrictions than we ever dreamed it was. The ace in the deck is a bonus unmatted viewing option that presents virtually all of Bava's special effects shots with roughly twice as much additional frame content as was ever seen in TV prints. With two audio commentaries, one by myself and another by Troy Howarth.

8. THE THING(Arrow Video)

The 4K restoration is stupendous and perfectly captures the filmic textures and sonic shocks I remember from my first theatrical viewing of the picture. This alone would be significant, and a great advance over any other available release, but Arrow once again refuses to be outdone, adding in a new commentary, a feature-length making-of documentary from Ballyhood Productions presented in segments, a half-hour documentary (also from Ballyhoo) about 1982's big summer of horror releases, and more. Scream Factory's deluxe two-disc setfrom 2012 remains necessary for its unique extras, which extend to an extra commentary and numerous interviews with cast and crew.

9. FUNERAL PARADE OF ROSES and AVANT-GARDE SHORT FILMS (Cineliciouspics)
The centerpiece of this collection of films by Japanese maverick filmmakerToshio Matsumoto is an electrifying, B&W docudrama from 1969 telling the story of a torturous love triangle set against the backdrop of the Bar Genet, a Tokyo nightclub with drag queen hostesses catering to gay members. The film stars, of all people, Yoshio Tsuchiya (who died earlier this year, familiar from countless Kurosawa and Toho kaiju eiga) but the film is stolen by the haunting transgender actor Peter (pictured on the cover), whose new breed youth and beauty pose a personal and professional threat to the club's reigning and more traditional Madam, Leda (Osamu Ogasawara). A deep plunge into a fascinating alien counter-culture, this movie is said to have influenced Kubrick's A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (it's certainly where the high-speed sex scene came from) and it reminds us of the value to by found by occasionally venturing outside one's habit trails and comfort zone. There's a helpful, informative commentary by Chris D. as well. Also included is a separate disc of eight Matsumoto short films which focus on such disparate subjects as the Mona Lisa and a toilet seat, and surprisingly often attain a state of trancendental trippiness.

10. I'LL BE SEEING YOU(Kino Lorber)
I like to end with a dark horse, and this 1944 William Dieterle film from the Selznick company was new to me and a very pleasant surprise: an unseemly wartime story about two broken people (Joseph Cotten and Ginger Rogers) fulfilling their obligations to society - an Army sergeant and a woman jailed for manslaughter - who meet on a train at Christmas time at the outset of different kinds of furlough. He's been injured in the line of duty (we never learn exactly how) and is dealing with PTSD, and she (an innocent woman convicted of her role in causing an accident that killed a man attempting to rape her) has been given an eight-day release for good behavior. Neither of them is entirely forthcoming about who they are, or what has made them who they presently are, but they fall in love in the shadows of an America already showing widespread signs of post-war anxieties and distortion. Finely crafted, well-acted across the board (Shirley Temple, Spring Byington, even bit parts by Chill Wills and John Derek), the film is also provided with a fine commentary by Kat Ellinger and Samm Deighan (them again!), working a little off their usual beat but nevertheless supplying a perceptive reading of the film as well as providing some helpful historical context.
(c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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Someday I Need To Get Organizized

January 2, 2018, 3:17 pm

≫ Next: THE FAT BLACK PUSSYCAT... UNMASKED!

≪ Previous: My Favorite Blu-rays of 2017

For several days, while working on what will become my first audio commentary of the New Year, I've been reflecting on how much I love the music score for this film (all I can tell you is that it's an Italian gothic) and lamenting that probably no soundtrack album release exists. In the past hour, in the course of some online research, I was gobsmacked to discover that a soundtrack album did in fact exist and was on the point of rushing over to Screen Archives Entertainment to buy it... but something about the packaging looked vaguely familiar, and a little voice told me it was better to be safe than sorry... So I got up and crossed the room to that neglected, disorganized shelf where I tend to put duplicates of discs (releases I once annotated, that kind of thing) or discs I didn't have time to listen to when they came in the mail or otherwise properly process, where reading the tiny writing on the lowermost spines requires a physical flexibility that is now more nostalgic for me than actual. After pulling out about five fistfuls of CDs, many of them still shrink-wrapped and producing various shades of amazement and disbelief, there it was! I actually had this music on disc all along, and it has been lost in the limbo of that terrible shelf since it came out in 2006, just 10 steps from my desk in this much too cluttered office of mine.

At least there is evidence that I played it once!

(c) 2018 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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THE FAT BLACK PUSSYCAT... UNMASKED!

January 15, 2018, 12:27 am

≫ Next: 50 Years Ago: Sherlock Holmes in Cincinnati

≪ Previous: Someday I Need To Get Organizized

I'm presently doing some research at the moment on the actress Patricia McNair, who did some Joe Sarno movies, and tonight I decided to take a look at her earliest screen credit, THE FAT BLACK PUSSYCAT (1963), which is available from Something Weird Video on a double feature DVD with THE BLACK CAT (1966). The movie is remarkably giallo-like for an American film of this vintage; it has a NYC beatnik milieu and also a very interesting cast, including Hugh Romney (the future "Wavy Gravy"), Hector Elizondo (whom I didn't see), an unbilled Geoffrey Lewis, and some great bookshelves - but there was another actor in the film I knew I had seen and heard before, but I couldn't place him for the life of me - and there was no other familiar name in the credits.

Fortunately, before the movie was over, I got a fix on him. The voice is UNmistakable. Oh, man - talk about people hiding in plain sight.

You read it here first, my friends: THE BLACK FAT PUSSYCAT features the earliest known screen appearance of Malcolm John "Mac" Rebennack, better known as Dr. John the Night Tripper!

P.S. This is not presently noted on the IMDb.

P.S.S. Patricia McNair is far and away the best actor in the picture.

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50 Years Ago: Sherlock Holmes in Cincinnati

January 21, 2018, 3:59 pm

≫ Next: Sarno's 3rd - Available Now

≪ Previous: THE FAT BLACK PUSSYCAT... UNMASKED!

Nigel Bruce and Basil Rathbone as the 20th century Watson and Holmes.

Last night, while looking through CINCINNATI ENQUIRER archives through the courtesy of newspapers.com, I realized that 2018 likely marks the 50th anniversary of my first exposure to Universal's venerable Sherlock Holmes film series starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce.

When I first met these films, which updated the classic Arthur Conan Doyle mysteries to what were then modern times (minus 1939's THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES and 1940's THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES, which adhered to the original 19th century settings and were not included in the Universal syndication package), they were presented in what I considered the perfect time slot: Sunday nights at 11:30pm, on WCPO-TV, Channel 9 (then Cincinnati's CBS affiliate) - at the height of summer vacation, which meant that, if I'd a mind to do so, I could stay up till 1:00am watching television. And I very much had a mind to do so.

It's possible, even likely, that I'd had limited exposure to the Holmes films prior to this, but I recall clearly that they made their first and deepest impression on me when I was exposed to them as a set, as a Sunday night ritual. During the previous year of 1966, Channel 9 habitually ran the films on different week nights on their 11:30 movie, but since I had to be in bed by a certain hour on school nights, the only chance I would have had to see any in late March through late April, when five random titles were shown in the Friday night slot:

3/31 THE WOMAN IN GREEN

4/07 DRESSED TO KILL

4/14 SHERLOCK HOLMES IN WASHINGTON

4/21 THE SCARLET CLAW

4/28 SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE SECRET WEAPON

Two months after this modest run, on July, Basil Rathbone died at the age of 75.

In perusing these old newspaper TV listings, I found out a couple of unexpected things about the series I knew as Channel 9 presented it.

First of all, the films were scheduled as part of an existing Sunday late night movie block called THE BIG SHOW. (The week before the first Holmes film was trotted out, this same time slot was reserved for HARRY MARCH AND THE TIGER, an adventure film starring Stewart Granger and Barbara Rush.) Secondly, though my memory summons up these Sunday night viewings as an enduring ritual, it seems they ran only once in this time slot. (That said, once the films ran, Channel 9 began showing them an a Saturday afternoon time slot, first at 3:30pm and then changing to starting point to 4:00pm some weeks later.) Thirdly, in a detail that would have annoyed me had I known more about the series at the time, the films were shown completely out of order.

And finally, and most surprising of all, I can find no indication that they were ever presented as a "Sherlock Holmes Theater," though one of the most wonderful parts of the whole Sunday night ritual was how the films were introduced. Each movie was preceded by an apparently station-produced bit of black-and-white 16mm film showing a man in a smoking jacket, seated in a comfortable overstuffed armchair, possibly smoking a pipe but certainly looking pensive as he cast about for something to do with his empty evening. He suddenly he stood and, walking around his chair, turned to a well-stocked book case built into the wall. After running his index finger across a series of leather-bound thrillers, he pulled one down one from a long line of individually bound Sherlock Holmes mysteries. Having made his selection, he returned to his chair and began reading - fade down to movie. It really set the mood. Local stations cared more in those days.

Here are the dates of these 1968 syndication broadcasts and the order of the films in which they appeared. The parenthetical numbers reflect the order in which they were first released:

6/02 – PURSUIT TO ALGIERS (10)

6/09 – THE SPIDER WOMAN (5)

6/16 – TERROR BY NIGHT (11)

6/23 – SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE VOICE OF TERROR (1)

6/30 – SHERLOCK HOLMES FACES DEATH (4)

7/07 – SHERLOCK HOLMES IN WASHINGTON (3)

7/14 – SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE SECRET WEAPON (2)*

7/21 – DRESSED TO KILL (12)

7/28 – THE HOUSE OF FEAR (8)

8/04 – THE PEARL OF DEATH (7)

8/11 – THE SCARLET CLAW (6)

8/18 – THE WOMAN IN GREEN (9)*

The two asterisked (*) titles are conspicuous in their absence from the ENQUIRER listings, and the movies scheduled in these respective time slots went unreported. Therefore, it's elementary: whatever did play in these time slots was very likely one or the other.

On 8/25, THE BIG SHOW resumed its usual Sunday night offerings with INDISCRETION OF AN AMERICAN WIFE.

In August 1971, Cincinnati's independent station WXIX-TV, Channel 19, acquired the Universal film syndication packages, including the studio's classic horror films (which were booked on Saturday night's SCREAM-IN broadcast starring Dick Von Hoene's Cool Ghoul) and the Holmes series, which settled into a Saturday afternoon time block from 1:00-3:00pm. They ran the films well into the early 1980s (during which time I practically memorized them), until June 1994 when WAII-TV, Channel 25, acquired them.

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Sarno's 3rd - Available Now

January 25, 2018, 5:49 pm

≫ Next: Early Seijun: THE BOY WHO CAME BACK (1958)

≪ Previous: 50 Years Ago: Sherlock Holmes in Cincinnati

I thought I should remind my friends and followers that the third Joseph W. Sarno RetrospectSeries Blu-rayis now out, devoted to the comedies made by "The Ingmar Bergman of 42nd Street."

The packaging is a little deceptive because the front mentions only the two main features: DEEP THROAT - PART II (which, perhaps needful to say, is NOT hardcore but a kind of R-rated spoof of IT'S A MAD MAD MAD MAD WORLD cast with porn stars) and PANDORA AND THE MAGIC BOX (an early B&W burlesque comedy set in ancient Greece).

There is also a second disc herein that contains two BONUS features: A TOUCH OF GENIE (a kind of Yiddish Theater twist on LITTLE SHOPPE OF HORRORS) and Sarno's "Jekyll & Hyde" comedy THE SWITCH, OR HOW TO ALTER YOUR EGO. The latter film is especially interesting and akin to Jerry Lewis' THE NUTTY PROFESSOR in terms of how it allows its comedic framework to venture into some dark places. No commentaries here, but I did write an ambitious essay for the set called "Sarno and Comedy," which features the valuable input of Joe's wife Peggy Steffans Sarno, who gave me biographic information and insights that enriched these films for me greatly.

I'm presently researching and writing a book about Sarno's work and you can follow its development in my contributions to this series - but more importantly, thanks to the 2K restorations being undertaken by Pop Cinema's Michael Raso, and the additional contributions and support of Film Media, Something Weird Video and Film Movement, you'll be able to see Sarno's work in even more optimal condition than it was ever seen theatrically.

Also available are Volume One (SIN, YOU SINNERS and VAMPIRE ECSTASY, with my liner notes) and Volume Two (ALL THE SINS OF SODOM and VIBRATIONS, with my liner notes and a full-length commentary for VIBRATIONS).

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Early Seijun: THE BOY WHO CAME BACK (1958)

February 7, 2018, 10:23 am

≫ Next: Cutting Remarks: A Look at Arrow's SCALPEL

≪ Previous: Sarno's 3rd - Available Now

Streeting next Tuesday in the UK and the US is SEIJUN SUZUKI, THE EARLY YEARS VOL. 1 (SEIJUN RISING: THE YOUTH MOVIES) - a four-disc box set (two Blu-ray, two DVD) collecting five of the maverick Japanese filmmaker's earliest works for the Nikkatsu studio, ranging from 1958 to 1965. Seijun (1923-2017) is primarily known in the West for his flamboyant crime dramas TOKYO DRIFTER (1966) and BRANDED TO KILL (1967), whose often dazzling yet off-kilter verve is frequently compared to Sam Fuller in his prime, and which has influenced filmmakers from Oliver Stone to Quentin Tarantino to Sion Sono. His career led to some increasingly abstract action films like the shot-on-video PISTOL OPERA (2001), which could be said to have influenced more recent Japanese work like Sion's dazzling ANTIPORNO (2016). But the stylistic extremes of Seijun's later work do beg the question of where his journey began, which makes Arrow's issuing of this comprehensive package all the more welcome and exciting.

The films included in this first set are THE BOY WHO CAME BACK (Fumihazushita haru, 1958), the story of a wayward delinquent and his difficult relationship with the female mentor assigned to him; THE WIND-OF-YOUTH GROUP CROSSES THE MOUNTAIN PASS (Tôge o wataru wakai kaze, 1961), a colorful film about a student on holiday who joins a travelling circus; TEENAGE YAKUZA (Hai tiin yakuza, 1962), about a high school vigilante who becomes the protector of his village against incroaching threats from a neighboring mob; and THE INCORRIGIBLE (Akutarô, 1963) and BORN UNDER CROSSED STARS (Akutarô-den: Warui hoshi no shita demo, 1965), both based on novels by Toko Kon, set in the 1920s and dealing with young love.

The title assigned to the set may lead to some confusion, because not all of the films in this first set pre-date some of Seijun's best-known and widely available titles, including YOUTH OF THE BEAST (Yajû no seishun, 1963), GATE OF FLESH (Nikutai no mon, 1964), and STORY OF A PROSTITUTE (Shunpu den, 1965). The set is intended to be considered en suite with VOL. 2 (subtitled BORDER CROSSINGS: THE CRIME AND ACTION MOVIES), which is scheduled for release on April 17 and will include five more films dating from 1957 (EIGHT HOURS OF TERROR, the oldest film in either set) through 1961.

Not really knowing what to expect, I decided to watch THE BOY WHO CAME BACK last night and was immediately won over by its anamorphic 2.35:1 black-and-white cinematography. I also found it was also fascinating to see a Japanese film about juvenile delinquency, a film in Japan's history comparable to something like THE BLACKBOARD JUNGLE (1955) or BEAT GIRL (1959) in English-speaking cultures, or TEENAGE WOLFPACK (Die Halbstarken, 1956) in Germany. Watching it, I quickly became aware that the comportment of Japanese films I've seen has either been very orderly, extremely chaotic surrealistically chaotic, or a stylistic combination of the two; so I found it a bit startling to see a serious, socially constructive film in which most characters act with reserve that even a character shown chewing gum seems downright bizarre, and contrasted with an artistically accomplished but emotionally scarred teenager whose wild ways (and two past arrests) are unlikely to assure him anything but a future with the yakuza unless he can straighten up. To this end, the troubled Nobuo (Akira Kobayashi) is assigned a mentor from the BBS (Big Brothers and Sisters) to act as his counselor to keep him on the straight-and-narrow following his second release from juvenile detention. It is the first such assignment for Keiko (Sachiko Hidari), an idealistic and wholesome young woman whose assignment is basically to keep him out of trouble, hopefully to get him gainfully employed, and to guide him back into the arms of his former girlfriend Kazue (Ruriko Asaowa). In doing so, Keiko discovers she may be biting off a bit more than she can chew, insofar as she finds herself falling under the spell of her difficult, violent, whoring and self-loathing young charge - and there are also hints that she may be one of those "he hit me... and it felt like a kiss" types.

Taken as an entire package, THE BOY WHO CAME BACK (according to its trailer, adapted from a controversial novel of the time with the "genius direction" of Seijun) is a captivating melodrama that functions at appreciably deeper, more sober levels than comparable JD films from America and the UK of the same period. According to the IMDb, it was Seijun's eighth film but made only two years into his frantically paced career - which would explain its technical competence and the sensitivity Seijun was able to draw at this stage from his actors. Though the film has a certain docudrama look and quality, it also explodes now and again into more stylized moments, especially during Nobuo's outbursts of derangement - in a couple of frenzied jazz club scenes, and during an extended sequence where he is beaten by a street gang and, while in custody, driven crazed with anger by a rumor that his girlfriend was gang-raped while he was left unconscious.

I may post further responses as I continue to make my way through the box. If you're at all interested, I would hop on this soon as the set is strictly limited to 3000 copies. In addition to the films, a 60-page illustrated booklet is included featuring new writing on the films by BEHIND THE PINK CURTAIN author Jasper Sharp - an outstanding authority on cutting-edge Japanese cinema who delivers book-quality work, well above the liner notes standard. He's a most helpful guide to have around. I've not yet found Tony Rayns' contributions to the set, but he's said to be on hand with introductions.

(c) 2018 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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Cutting Remarks: A Look at Arrow's SCALPEL

February 11, 2018, 5:01 pm

≫ Next: Roll Out the Nominees for the 16th Annual Rondo Awards!

≪ Previous: Early Seijun: THE BOY WHO CAME BACK (1958)

In the Image Gallery of Arrow Video's new Blu-ray of John Grissmer's SCALPEL (1977), there is photographic evidence that the film's original distributor, unable to put the PG film across as a horror picture, tried to pass it off (under its original title FALSE FACE) as a comedy. To add water to the bonfire, they listed its top-billed stars thusly: "Robert Lansing (TWELVE O'CLOCK HIGH), Judith Chapman (AS THE WORLD TURNS)." Never mind that, by 1977, TWELVE O'CLOCK HIGH had been off the air for a full 10 years and that Lansing himself had not been associated with it since 1965. The best thing any movie of this period could have done to hurt their business would have been to proclaim, "Hold the presses, folks - we've got TV actors!"

What is interesting about all of this is that it points to what a unique film SCALPEL really is. There are considerable reasons to doubt that SCALPEL is a horror picture (as audio commentator Richard Harland Smith notes), and if you're going to call it a horror picture, you might just as well call it a comedy because some of it is darkly funny. The sad fact is, there is a commercial imperative to help a picture find its audience, and this one rolled the dice two different ways without packing them in. Horror movie or comedy, it's probably commercially preferable to telling people it's a Southern Gothic romantic thriller about a plastic surgeon (Lansing) who gives a disfigured stripper the face of his runaway daughter (Chapman) so that he can 1) collect a $5,000,000 inheritance and 2) sleep with her. All goes well with the incest fantasy until the real daughter returns home, suspicious about the present arrangement and much, much more attractive to Daddy.

Though opportunity was ripe for visual quotations of Franju's EYES WITHOUT A FACE, Grissmer - whose background was in NY theater - was too grounded in drama and performance and supporting his narrative to get sidetracked in such cosmetic film school touches; it takes awhile before the viewer even cottons to the idea that there might be a VERTIGO hommage in here somewhere. What we get is a fairly compelling thriller, made on location in Atlanta by big city principals, which is made compelling by its even-handed direction, a surprisingly sumptuous if understated visual style (the cinematographic debut of Edward Lachman - LIGHT SLEEPER, THE LIMEY, I'M NOT THERE), and the utterly surprising performances of Lansing and Chapman, not to mention a bevy of local talent obviously having the time of their lives. Lansing seems to play his mad surgeon in an understated way, but he can also be quite bold; he comes across, most of all, as a real guy - warm, funny, dedicated, talented - whose selfishness is the key to his chilling sociopathology. (As he relates the story of his wife's tragic accidental death by drowning, we cutaway to a shot of a woman about to drown in a lake, as Lansing blithely circles her cries in a paddleboat.) It's not much of a surprise when we learn from the supplements that Lansing considered his work here as probably the best performance he ever gave. Chapman's two characters are essentially the same girl - as she would be had she been born without advantages, and with every possible social advantage. Though the film isn't a comedy, what bonds these two characters, these three performances, is a sly shared sense of humor - the kind sometimes observed between people who share deep personal secrets, as indeed they all do.

Arrow's generously packed Blu-ray disc offers two different 2K restorations of the 1.85:1 film from its best surviving source material, a 35mm color reversal internegative. There is the Arrow version, which gives us the film as it was preserved on the internegative, which the director has approved; and then there is the Lachman version, which was tweaked by the film's director of photography to reflect the color adjustments he made in the original release prints, which emphasize the citrus colors of the palette to evoke a more humid, Southern atmosphere. Taken together, the two versions provide the viewer with an unexpected lesson in how a film's mood and atmosphere can be adjusted in post-production, and Arrow is to be commended for welcoming such a discussion. Interview featurettes with Grissmer, Chapman (the younger sister of Spanish horror film starlet Patty Shepard!), and Lachman are also included, as well as the good companionship of a typically well-researched Richard Harland Smith commentary. His talk not only benefits from a further interview with Grissmer, but from his own past jobs as a theater actor and hospital attendant. When we are shown Jane Doe in her hospital bed, Smith tells us why its protective rails would never pass code today - and its such welcome jolts of the real world that lend resonance to his later stories about the real Robert Lansing, the one who was known to some of his old acting buddies. The first pressing is accompanied by an exclusive illustrated booklet featuring substantial writing about the film by Bill Ackerman and David Konow.

In short, this disc does honor to a deserving, modest, well-crafted film that has certainly waited long enough for it.

(c) 2018 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

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