By Todd Garbarini

As a huge fan of Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 film version of Stephen King’s 1977 novel The Shining, which I saw at the age of fifteen and was completely terrified by, it is a daunting task indeed to watch any other (excuse the pun) incarnation of this fantastic story as seen through the eyes of another filmmaker without being drawn back to Mr. Kubrick’s much-maligned interpretation that was initially criticized but subsequently revered by some as the greatest horror film ever made. The Shining is a film that has affected me profoundly in ways that only a handful of other films ever have. I felt a compelling obsession with it that was nearly impossible to verbalize. It was my second Jack Nicholson film, and it made me a lifelong fan of his; it introduced me to pre-existing music and its use in a contemporary film; and perhaps, most significantly, it was my introduction into the world of Mr. King’s writings. Having read the novel a mere two months after seeing the film for the first time, I was completely surprised to see how much Mr. Kubrick altered the source material. Much has been written about his decision to jettison nearly all but the bare bones plot of a former alcoholic schoolteacher-turned-writer taking on the position of the caretaker of a Colorado hotel during the winter months with his wife and young son. The film’s most vocal critic is perhaps the author himself who, while acknowledging Mr. Kubrick’s genius as a film director, has never held back his disdain for The Shining for which he wrote a screenplay that was subsequently rejected by the director in favor of his own collaboration with novelist Diane Johnson. Mr. King’s disappointment in the film made him vow to make his own version one day, and The Shining, as presented in a three-part mini-series on ABC in April and May of 1997 and directed by Mick Garris, is the result.

Jack Torrance (Stephen Webber) is a recovering alcoholic who has been fired for beating up a student following the latter cutting the former’s car tire after an argument. To say that Jack is skating on thin ice would be an understatement, even after many AA meetings. His marriage is on the rocks with his wife Wendy (Rebecca De Mornay) following him breaking their son Danny’s (Courtland Mead) arm after a drinking bout. All he really wants is quiet time to write his play. Taking care of the remotely located Overlook Hotel during the brutal winter months is his opportunity to do just that. Stuart Ullman (Elliott Gould), the stern and surly hotel manager, has been apprised of Jack’s past and is not too pleased to have to offer him the job as a favor. Dick Halloran (Melvin Van Peebles), the Overlook’s head chef, gives Wendy and Danny a tour of the kitchen, and discovers that he shares the gift of the Shining with Danny, a force described as a “psychic ability to see visions of the past, present, and future, as well as communicate telepathically with others who possess similar abilities.”

Once on their own following the hotel’s seasonal shutdown, the Torrances spend time acclimating themselves to the quiet solitude of the hotel and their quarters. It does not take long for them, however, to realize that strange things are going on in their midst. Unfortunately for Jack, there are evil forces at work that threaten to unravel the very fabric of his family unit as well as his sanity. Evidence of past horrors that occurred within the hotel begin to emerge in the form of an undead and decaying woman in room 217, an anthropomorphized topiary, a hornet’s nest of not-quite-dead wasps, and a scrapbook of news articles providing evidence of the hotel’s sordid history. Wendy’s attempts to seduce her husband into a night of lovemaking while dressed seductively are spurned multiple times by a distracted Jack who is thinking of incorporating elements of the Overlook into his play while also dealing with the demons of his alcoholism. In the midst of this is their seven-year-old son Danny who plays referee between them while trying to make sense of all that conspires to destroy his family. It isn’t long before the ghosts of the Overlook’s past begin to show up in their evening gowns and Jack loses his grip on reality, attempting to destroy his family while Danny telepathically summons Mr. Halloran who comes to their rescue.

At four-and-a-half hours, this version of The Shining is highly faithful to Mr. King’s story and, except for the genuinely frightening woman in Room 217, there is little in the way of tension and scares. Steven Webber does an admirable job of portraying a man modeled after Mr. King himself who is trying to go sober and keep his temper in check. Rebecca De Mornay, who was just twenty years-old when she was cast in late 1980 as an understudy in Francis Ford Coppola’s extravagant One from the Heart (1982) and found overnight fame as Lana in Paul Brickman’s highly successful Risky Business (1983) opposite Tom Cruise, plays Wendy much closer to Mr. King’s original vision in his novel. She is a strong-willed mother fiercely protective of her young charge against the adversity unfurling within the family unit. The film is ultimately undone by the not-ready-for-prime-time computer-generated imagery effects (CGI) that come off as silly and unfinished.

It is impossible to avoid comparisons between this and Mr. Kubrick’s film, the scariest film I have ever seen and which has only become more revered, iconoclastic, studied and analyzed in the years since its original release, so I will tread lightly. There are many areas that make Mr. Kubrick’s version, which was faked on backlots and massive sets at Elstree Studios in England, a standout. In his film, the Overlook, as represented by Oregon’s Timberline Lodge, became a character of its own. The Torrance’s, as played by Jack Nicholson, Shelly Duvall, and Danny Lloyd, felt as though they were really and truly snowbound and had absolutely no recourse from the outside world. The same cannot be said for the hotel in this version which, ironically, is the very hotel that inspired the story: the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado.

The one area that neither film version touches upon that is a big fear of Danny’s in the novel of the notion his parents will divorce, which is further italicized to emphasize innate fear. The other words that do make their way into both films are, of course, REDRUM and MURDER.

The miniseries is now available on a double disc Blu-ray from Scream! Factory. Blu-ray Disc One contains Parts One and Two, and Blu-ray Disc Two contains Part Three and additional scenes that were cut from the film. The film begins with a disclaimer: “To provide the most complete version of the film, a few scenes have been upgraded from the best available, non-Interpositive source.” This verbiage will go over the heads of the uninitiated, and as such it merely states that the folks at Scream! Factory did their best to locate the best available film elements for this high-resolution transfer. I must admit that even to my trained eyes, I had difficulty differentiating between the best film elements and whatever less-than-stellar footage was used in the transfer, which is excellent. There is a highly enjoyable audio commentary by author Stephen King, director Mick Garris, actor Steven Weber, actress Cynthia Garris, visual effects supervisor Boyd Shermis, makeup supervisor Bill Curso, and cinematographer Shelly Johnson that is worth the price of the movie alone. They give great insight into how the film came to be, especially author King who discusses staying at the Stanley Hotel in October 1974 with his wife. He explains that, had the concierge not asked the Kings if they could pay cash to stay overnight, the book would never have come to be. Talk about a fortuitous exchange. He also talks about his own experiences and struggles with alcoholism and his relation to Jack Torrance.

Director Garris discusses how his version is not intended as a remake of Stanley Kubrick’s film (which would have been a fool’s errand) but instead a filmed representation of author Mr. King’s novel, and discusses the challenges of making a film of a beloved book and working with a child actor, made easier thanks to Dawn Jeffory-Nelson, an acting teacher. She appears as an unwitting victim in David Schmoeller’s ultra-creepy Tourist Trap (1979), and worked extensively with young actor Mead. Steven Weber provides his insights into working with Ms. De Mornay and how the most difficult scene they did consisted of nine pages of dialog and had to be in the can in one day.

The film was originally released on DVD in 2003 and the commentary and additional eleven scenes that run a total of sixteen-minutes appear to have been ported over from that release. The image quality of this new double-disc Blu-ray, however, easily bests that DVD so if you are a fan of this film this is a worthy upgrade. 

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Oscar-nominated director Norman Jewison has passed away at age 97. Born in Canada, he served in the Canadian navy in WWII. He made his mark in Hollywood in the mid-1960s. His first directorial effort, the romantic comedy "40 Pounds of Trouble" starring Tony Curtis was a hit. This led to him directing Doris Day and James Garner in "The Thrill of It All", one of the most popular movies of 1963. More hit comedies followed including "Send Me No Flowers" with Doris Day and Rock Hudson and the all-star production of "The Art of Love". Jewison got his first opportunity to direct a drama when the mercurially-tempered Sam Peckinpah was fired from "The Cincinnati Kid" starring Steve McQueen in 1965. Jewison stepped in to replace him, earning critical praise. A string of very popular and diverse films followed including the classic Cold War comedy "The Russians are Coming. The Russians are Coming", the racially-tinged crime drama "In the Heat of the Night" which won the Best Picture Oscar and the classic crime caper "The Thomas Crown Affair". Jewison was hoping to cast Sean Connery in the lead role but was persuaded by Steve McQueen to give him the part because McQueen very much wanted to prove he could play a sophisticated rogue. The film was a major hit and spawned a popular 1999 remake starring Pierce Brosnan.

Jewison's diversity as a filmmaker was illustrated by his direction of the high profile 1971 musical "Fiddler on the Roof", based on the Broadway stage production. Jewison was amused when, upon being hired, he confessed to the United Artists brass that he not Jewish, despite his surname. The irony of him directing the ultimate Jewish musical was not lost on the executives who were Jewish. They believed Jewison could be entrusted with the film and it proved to be a major hit in an era in which many other big-budget musicals had flopped. Jewison was nominated for the Best Director Oscar and would be nominated again for the 1987 smash hit comedy "Moonstruck" starring Cher, who did win an Oscar for the film. Not all of Jewison's films were successful critically and at the boxoffice. Among those that didn't meet expectations were "F.I.S.T." and the screen adaptation of "Jesus Christ, Superstar". His futuristic thriller "Rollerball" under-performed in 1975 but has developed a loyal following in the ensuing years. The political satire "And Justice for All" was well-received as was the film adaptation of the play "A Soldier's Story" but most of his other films were not especially successful critically or commercially, although his 1999 production of "The Hurricane" saw Denzel Washington nab a Best Actor nomination in the true life story of former boxer "Hurricane" Carter, who waged a long campaign to prove that he was unjustly jailed for murder. Jewison's film was a lightning rod for controversy. Carter's supporters welcomed the sympathetic portrayal of him as a victim of a racist justice system. Others accused Jewison of being naive and ignoring considerable evidence that Carter was guilty. Either way, Jewison proved he could still stir things up on the big screen. His last big screen feature film was the little-seen "The Statement" starring Michael Caine.

Norman Jewison was a consummate professional who was respected by his peers and appreciated by movie fans worldwide. He was an early contributor to Cinema Retro and we join film lovers around the globe in mourning his passing. For more, click here.

By Hank Reineke

I much prefer writing about obscure or little-known items of celluloid than attempt to tackle a bona fide film classic as The Quatermass Xperiment.  The best chroniclers and historians of science-fiction and horror film history have proven to be a distinguished, thoroughly immersive, and informed band of researchers, commentators and authors.  Which, sadly, leaves also-rans such as myself little insight to add to what discourse exists already.  But in the rare event that someone who reads Cinema Retro is unfamiliar with Val Guest’s classic of British sci-fi, I’ll press on and attempt at a simple synopsis of The Quatermass Xperiment:

The nose end of an intact rocket ship crash lands in an open misty field deep in the English countryside.  Within minutes, police, fire vehicles, ambulances and curious locals gather to view the wreckage.  Among those taking command at the scene is the irascible and cocksure Professor Quatermass, barking orders that override even those of the assemblage of police and military officials.  Quatermass, we soon learn, was the primary architect of this wrecked three-crew space mission.  We also learn via the protest of an upset official from the Ministry of Defence, that Quatermass’s interstellar space voyage was unsanctioned by the British government.

Only one of the three astronauts originally launched, Victor Carroon, has seemingly survived this orbital freefall. Truth be told, it’s hard for scientists to determine conclusively.  Two of the astronaut’s spacesuits are still aboard the craft, but now curiously empty of their occupants.  Carroon is unable to explain what went on prior to the spacecraft’s unceremonious crash to earth.  Carroon has returned in a near-catatonic state.  He’s unable to speak… save for a desperate, mumbled plea asking his rescuers to “Help Me.”  Unfortunately for all involved, they are mostly unable to.

To make matters more peculiar, upon close examination it becomes unclear to his caregivers if Carroon actually is Carroon.  The fingerprints taken upon his return do not match that of the pre-flight astronaut.  One doctor suggests the prints examined are not “even human” in form.  It’s determined that whomever this “shell of a man” is, he’s being slowly transformed into something decidedly non-human.   

As one might expect, this faux-Carroon manages to escape from his hospital quarantine.  He roams the streets and riverbanks of London and surrounding areas, searching for food and scaring locals in the process.  Quatermass, the police, and the military are in pursuit, helpfully assisted by Carroon’s continual shedding of human-form to something more gelatinous.  As the ill-fated astronaut continues to devolve, he conveniently leaves behind a luminous path of radioactive waste in his wake for his pursuers to follow in trail.  The film climaxes with a climactic showdown between earthlings and alien in the hallowed chamber of Winchester Cathedral.     

The Hollywood Reporter was among the first of the trade papers in the U.S. to confirm that production of The Quatermass Xperiment was to commence in October of 1954.  (Technically speaking, the earliest reports first offered details under the film’s working title of Shock!) It was announced that Val Guest would direct the extravaganza, a film soon to be trumpeted as “The Most Fantastic Story Ever Told!” Hammer Films’ Michael Carreras and Anthony Hinds would produce, with the picture’s U.K. distribution to be handled by London’s Exclusive Films.  The screenplay of Shock! – based on the characters created by writer Nigel Keane for the Quatermass BBC television series of 1953 - was reported as a collaboration of veteran screenwriter Richard Landau and Guest.

Bringing Quatermass to the big screen seemed a sure bet.  The earlier BBC series had proven wildly popular, millions of UK viewers tuning into their parlor sets to watch the extra-terrestrial exploits of the Professor.  In a 1973 interview with Chris Knight (later published in the June 2018 issue of Richard Klemensen’s seminal Little Shoppe of Horrors magazine) Rudolph Cartier, the producer-director of the original BBC television series gave the lion share of credit to Kneale’s brilliantly conceived scenarios.   

Cartier thought Kneale’s cliffhanger scripting was the deciding factor in the success of the television series.  The producer was equally impressed by Kneale’s ability to write the natural dialogue of “real people,” which exhibited an unerring “ability to play on the underlying fears of the human soul.”  In that very same issue of LSOH, director John Carpenter – no slouch in creating totemic horror and sci-fi films himself – equally acknowledged Guest’s big screen version of The Quatermass Xperiment as “horrifyingly groundbreaking.” Carpenter thought the film version offered well-executed and thoughtful explorations of “the fear of the unknown.”   

On one of the supplements included on this release from Kino Lorber, Carpenter on Quatermass: On Camera Interview with Legendary Director John Carpenter,” the auteur recalls catching The Quatermass Xperiment (under its U.S. release title of The Creeping Unknown) as a youngster in Kentucky.  He thought the film both “profound” and mind-blowing, arriving timely on the heels of a world post-atom bomb and on the cusp of American and Soviet interest in space exploration.  Carpenter was of the opinion The Quatermass Xperiment was the “first powerful gift” of Hammer Films’ fright factory.    

Perhaps. But in 1955 the original creators of the television series didn’t share that rosy view.  Cartier acknowledged that Kneale was particularly unhappy with Hammer’s adaptation of his work.  So much so that the scenarist even cautioned Cartier “not to go” to the cinema to visit the film upon release. Kneale might have been – perhaps understandably - over-protective of his personal vision, but he was not alone in his assessment.  Upon the film’s release, one London-based critic mused while the first Hammer Quatermass film certainly offered cinemagoers the “full horror comic treatment,” he thought “Some of the TV Tension” of the original BBC series was “lost in this film’s extravagant chiller gimmicks.”   

Today only aged folks with long memories can say whether Kneale’s The Quatermass Experiment series was greater than Hammer’s The Quatermass Xperiment (with an “X”). Sadly, only two of the original six-episode summer of 1953 BBC broadcast are extant, so comparisons aren’t possible.  Oh, but about that “Experiment” versus “Xperiment…”

Guest was aware his picture would likely be given an “X” certificate designation – no child under the age of sixteen admitted into the cinema due to alleged “explicit” content.  Such branding was not unexpected given the temperature of the times.  Guest had previously submitted a sample copy of the script to a censor at the British Board of Film Classification who, upon reading, advised as such.  But Guest chose to press on regardless of losing an important audience demographic.  “Some people thought we were mad to go ahead, but I had faith in it,” he offered to Picturegoer.  One BBC feature writer suggested the prominent “X” in the film’s “Xperiment” title was purposeful, Hammer Film’s sly rebuke of the picture’s undeserved “X” classification.     

Upon the film’s release, it appeared Guest’s gambit had paid off.  London’s Picturegoer was particularly enthused with The Quatermass Xperiment, enthusing that a British studio had - at last - managed a production, “to make Hollywood’s Frankenstein’s and Dracula’s curl up in their crypts.”  That might have been so, but Guest nonetheless cautioned the film not be preemptively tagged as a run-of-the-mill “horror” movie.  Such designation brought with it expectations.  “We didn’t really set out to make that kind of film, you know,” Guest corrected.  “I’d prefer it if you call the film a ‘chiller.’”   

Picturegoer noted there were plans to release the film in U.S. markets under its provisional title of Shock!  But that re-title wouldn’t happen.  In March of 1956, Variety reported that Robert Lippert of United Artists had paid a flat fee of $125,000: he believed this “thriller-type film” held “potential value” in the U.S. market.  The brief item also noted the film’s U.S. domestic release title change would be The Creeping Unknown.  Upon its U.S. release - and following its scoring of “fancy” box-office returns for United Artists - a Variety critic acknowledged, The Creeping Unknown (“a gelatinous octopus-like mass that absorbs all plant and animal life that it touches”) was a “competently made drama, containing sufficient suspense and frightening elements.”

The film’s success in the U.S. was not assured.  As neither Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass BBC serial – nor the Professor Bernard Quatermass character – were generally on the radar of American couch-sitters, United Artists retitling The Quatermass Xperiment under the far more provocatively sinister and exploitative name of The Creeping Unknown made sense.  (On a special feature included here that compares the differences between the U.K. and U.S. cuts of the film - the latter running approximately two and-a-half minutes shorter - it’s noted that a surviving continuity script titled the film in pre-release as Monster from Outer Space).

The Creeping Unknown was paired in the U.S. as the undercard of a ballyhoo “Double Horror Show! of “Two Terrific Horror Pictures!” (of which Reginald LeBorg’s The Black Sleep (1956) would top-line).  The LeBorg film, while no venerable classic, was certainly the more marketable of the two – at least in the U.S.  The cast of The Quatermass Xperiment were peopled with faces mostly unfamiliar to U.S. moviegoers. In contrast, The Black Sleep offered an illustrious cast of familiar and beloved genre actors: Basil Rathbone, Lon Chaney Jr., Bela Lugosi, John Carradine and Tor Johnson amongst them.

United Artists certainly wasn’t about to gamble on its investment in this British undercard.  Under the title banner of The Creeping Unknown, the U.S. marketing department was tasked to play up the film’s more exploitative angles.  The art department conjured up a garish one-sheet poster featuring a crashed rocket ship and gigantic demonic creature hovering above the heads of a terrified, fleeing populace. The poster’s caption read: “You Can’t Escape It!  Nothing Can Destroy It! It’s Coming for You from Space to Wipe all Living Things from the Face of the Earth!  Can it Be Stopped?”

It was a prudent time for United Artists to release the film in the U.S. as the 1950s “Silver Age” of cinematic science-fiction in full bloom.  In 1956 alone, theater cash boxes were stuffed with receipts from such pictures as Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, Forbidden Planet, Godzilla, King of the Monsters, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, It Conquered the World, The Creature Walks Among Us, The Mole People, and World Without End – and that’s to name only a few.  Interest in sci-fi would continue to blossom and explode throughout the 1950s, with 1957 and 1958 being particularly banner years for the genre.  

According to the film’s U.S. pressbook, director Val Guest had helmed no fewer than seven motion pictures in a twelve-month span, The Creeping Unknown being the seventh.  Guest had been, all things considered, an odd choice to be asked to direct.  Guest admitted he was a mostly disinterested observer of science fiction of any sort.  So he expressed surprise when producer Anthony Hinds had approached him to helm the film.  Most of the films Guest had previously directed - and was best known for - were straight-on comedies.  Since Guest admitted honestly to having not watched the wildly popular BBC series, Hinds pressed copies of Kneale’s original tele-scripts to help familiarize him with the material.  On holiday with his wife in Tangiers, Guest – at first, reluctantly - began to read through the scripts.  He would acknowledge Kneale’s storytelling left him “pinned to his deckchair.”    

There was certainly interest that Hammer test the viability of The Quatermass Xperiment/The Creeping Unknown playing overseas.  There was one major hurdle.  Should the film employ only or primarily a British cast, the main players would be practically unknown to U.S. moviegoers.  Guest noted it was mostly at the insistence of the American distributor that an actor of some marquee standing in the U.S. be given the lead role.  So the producers brought in the American actor Brian Donlevy to play Professor Quatermass.  

Donlevy was well known to American film audiences.  The actor had worked regularly and steadily in Hollywood, more often than not in rough-and-tumble tough-guy roles: prize-fighters to cowboys to soldiers to film noir detectives.  But certainly not as an egg-head scientist.  (As a completely irrelevant aside – but a fun fact all the same - Donlevy would later wed the widow of Bela Lugosi).  The casting of Donlevy was the only major talent concession.  Most folks cast were familiar faces of past Guest productions, the director preferring to work alongside the dependable professionals of his own repertory company.  

Both Carpenter and Guest suggest that Kneale was particularly unhappy with the casting of a brash, somewhat tactless Yank as Quatermass.  Kneale’s Quatermass was, in Guest’s reading, “a very English, Professor-like character,” a model of British gentility.  Donlevy exhibited none of these qualities, but Guest welcomed bringing the actor’s tough-guy persona to the fore – even if that meant partly re-creating the character as envisioned by the dissatisfied Kneale.  Carpenter too recalled Kneale’s obvious displeasure in the Donlevy casting, but personally found the actor’s performance as suitable.  Having worked with the scenarist on two projects (an ultimately unmade remake of The Creature from the Black Lagoon and on Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982, for which the writer’s contribution was uncredited), Carpenter reminisced that Kneale - while certainly talented - was a “handful” to work with.  

In any event, the film was a success.  By spring of 1956, Donlevy was already back in London to work on a second Quatermass film, X the Unknown (also co-written and directed by Guest).  As this follow-up would cost $140,000 to produce (a 60% increase over the more economically-budgeted The Quatermass Xperiment), Exclusive Films, the United Kingdom distributor,  entered into a partnership with United Artists – the latter agreeing to put up 75% of that cost for a 50/50 box office share.  

In some manner of speaking, the American had been upstaged in the first film.  Donlevy’s co-star Richard Wordsworth was mostly unknown to U.S. moviegoers, the actor having only recently graduated from stage to television to film acting.  Indeed, The Quatermass Xperiment would log as his first big-screen credit.  His performance as the alien-infected mute Victor Carroon received good notices: quite a feat considering his character spoke nary a line of dialogue.  In many respects, Wordsworth steals the show, delivering a frightening, tortured portrait of the empty-shell astronaut.  Guest thought Wordsworth “brilliantly” acted the part, relying solely on the conveyance of haunted facial expressions and gentle physical movements to emote.    

By Lee Pfeiffer

No one has ever clamored for a remake of director Howard Hawks' "Red River". The 1948 film is routinely considered to be one of the great American westerns, although Hawks was never completely satisfied with the end result. Between changes he made to the film and some changes imposed by the studio, the result was that film scholars are still debating which version should be considered as the final cut.  However, the film's impact is indisputable. It afforded John Wayne the best role of his career up to that time and elevated up-and-coming Montgomery Clift to major stardom. I must admit that I was surprised to learn of a 1988 television remake of the film when I saw it is now streaming on ScreenPix, an optional subscription channel, which is available for a nominal monthly fee to Amazon Prime subscribers. It would take a big man to step into Duke Wayne's shoes but James Arness filled the bill. In fact, Wayne was a mentor to Arness and made several films with him before he convinced the young actor to accept CBS's offer to star as Marshall Matt Dillon in the TV series "Gunsmoke", an adaptation of the popular radio program. Arness plays Thomas Dunson, who was on a wagon train to Texas along his fiancee. Dunson and his sidekick Groot (Ray Walston in a role originally played by Walter Brennan), leave the wagon train to scout for appropriate land to settle on. While they are away, the wagon train is attacked by Indians. The begins with Dunson and Groot discovering that all of the pioneers have been killed except for a young boy, Matt Garth (Mickey Kuhn), who Dunson unofficially adopts as a son. The gesture proves to be mutually beneficial, as it helps both grief-stricken people cope with their losses. Ultimately, the headstrong Dunson finds the perfect land to claim for his own and it stretches as far as the eye can see. The film then jumps ahead a number of years. Dunson's spread, known as the Red River D, has been a major success and he is getting ready to move his enormous herd to Sedalia, Missouri to sell the steers for a considerable profit. He is heartened by the return of Matt (now played by Bruce Boxleitner), who has been away fighting with Southern forces in the Civil War. With Matt and Groot as his trusted right-hand men, Dunson assembles a major company of experienced drovers for the perilous journey that lies ahead. 

As with Hawks' version of "Red River", the TV production chronicles the increased hardships the cattlemen endure and the slow breakdown in morale as food supplies become skimpy and the dangers increase from inclement weather and the threat of hostile Indians. Dunson rules the company with an iron fist and tells the men that he is financially broke, as he's put all of his money into the cattle drive. He reminds them that the only way they will get paid is if they get the herd to Sedalia, where it can be sold. Some cowhands encounter the drovers and say there is a rumor that the rail line has now reach Abilene, Kansas. If true, it will make for a lucrative market to sell the cattle in order to feed the booming population. It's also a shorter and safer journey for the drovers to make. However, Dunson will have not risk changing direction on the basis of an unfounded rumor. Ultimately, some men choose to leave the drive. However, when a couple of drovers also steal some precious food before absconding, Dunson has them hunted down and captured. Enraged, he tells them he will lynch them. When Matt can't convince him that he is going to far, a major rift occurs and Matt informs Dunson that he is taking control of the herd and gambling on taking the cattle to Abilene. Dunson refuses to go along and promises to hunt Matt down and personally kill him, despite the fact that Matt intends to turn any proceeds over to his adoptive father. 

The story continues to follow events in the film, albeit in truncated fashion since the film runs 96 minutes compared to the 133 minutes of the original version. Matt and flashy gunslinger Cherry Valance (Gregory Harrison) encounter a wagon train besieged by Indians. They ultimately rescue the survivors which include Kate Millay (Laura Johnson), a Civil War widow with a young son. Both Matt and Cherry are smitten by her, which introduces an element of sexual tension as both men become antagonistic towards each other in increasingly dangerous ways. Ultimately, Matt gets the herd to Abilene and finds that the rumors were true. The town is booming and anxious to buy the herd for top dollar. Matt's joy is short-lived, however, as Dunson arrives with his personal posse of hired gunmen- and he's intent on keeping his vow to kill Matt.

There is nothing in the TV version of "Red River" that improves on Hawks's original in any meaningful way. However, it does offer some fine performances. It's interesting to see Arness, who gives a commanding performance, finally play a character whose judgment is flawed and whose actions border on the reckless. He has good chemistry with Bruce Boxleitner, possibly because the two were old friends who had co-starred in Arness's post-"Gunsmoke" TV series "How the West Was Won". Gregory Harrison has a meatier role as Cherry Valance than John Ireland did in the original version, possibly because Harrison was an executive producer on this production. He provides ample doses of both charm and reckless behavior. There are plenty of familiar Western stars who make brief appearances including Ty Hardin, Robert Horton, L.Q. Jones and Guy Madison, in his final screen appearance. The script has been updated with some new characters added, most notably Stan Shaw, very good as Jack Byrd, an ex-slave who must endure bigotry before winning the respect of the drovers with his skills. The film is crisply directed by Richard Michaels, who keeps the balance between action and personal dramas well-balanced.

I viewed the film with the expectation that it would be simply a pale imitation of the 1948 classic. However, while the original reigns supreme, I'm happy to say that if the TV version is viewed as a stand-alone production, it's actually surprisingly good.

I can find no record of this film having been released on home video aside from an early VHS version, so the Screenpix option is the best way to view it.

By Ernie Magnotta

The late, great Rutger Hauer was an amazingly talented actor. Named the Best Dutch Actor of the Century by the Dutch public, the Saturn Award nominated thespian had an extremely entertaining career where he memorably played both heroes and villains in classic films such as Nighthawks, The Hitcher, Blade Runner, Ladyhawke, Wanted: Dead or Alive, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Just to name a few. Recently, Hauer’s wonderful turn as Nick Parker in 1990’s action-packed film Blind Fury was released to Blu-ray.

Written by Charles Robert Carner and directed by Phillip Noyce, Blind Fury deals with Nick Parker (Hauer), a soldier who was blinded in Vietnam, but developed his remaining senses and, through intense training, becoming an expert with a samurai sword before returning to the States. When Parker’s best friend and fellow soldier, Frank Deveraux (Terry O’Quinn), is kidnapped by ruthless criminals, Parker decides to take Frank’s young son, Billy, (Brandon Call) to Nevada in order to find and rescue his dad. However, the deadly thugs want Billy so that they can use him to convince Frank to make their illegal drugs. With the help of Frank’s girlfriend, Annie (Lisa Blount), Nick does everything he can to protect young Billy from the homicidal hoods and save Frank before it’s too late.

Filmed around the Midwestern United States and released by Tri-Star Pictures in March of 1990, Blind Fury, which was produced by Daniel Grodnick and actor/director Tim Matheson, is a highly enjoyable action adventure/martial arts film with well-drawn characters and just the right amount of comic relief and heart. Based on the Japanese character Zatoichi—a blind swordsman who was created by Kan Shimozawa in 1948 and appeared in 26 films—Blind Fury is basically a loving remake of the seventeenth Zatoichi film Zatoichi Challenged (1967).

Clocking in at a brief 86 minutes, Blind Fury moves along pretty quickly and not only features excellent direction by Phillip Noyce, but also a well-known, veteran cast who do a terrific job. Naturally, Rutger Hauer is excellent in the role of Nick Parker. Trained by blind judo champion and Paralympic silver medal winner Lynn Manning, Hauer has said that playing a blind swordsman was one of the most difficult jobs he’s ever had to do.

Besides the super talented Call, O’Quinn and Blount, the exciting film also features wonderful performances from Noble Willingham, Nick Cassavetes, former pro boxer Randall “Tex” Cobb, comedian Rick Overton, the immortal Sho Kosugi, the lovely Meg Foster, former professional wrestler Tiger Chung Lee and former pro football player Jay Pennison.

Blind Fury has been released on a region one, two and three Blu-ray, and is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. The entertaining film looks excellent and sounds just as great. Special features include a very informative audio commentary by screenwriter Charles Robert Carner (moderated by filmmaker Douglas Hosdale) as well as the original theatrical trailer. The Blu-ray also comes with a slipcover which contains some fun-looking artwork of Nick Parker in action. If you’re a fan of old school action/martial arts cinema; Rutger Hauer; samurai films or all of the above, then definitely check this one out.

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By Ernie Magnotta

Horror films featuring either attached, murderous hands with minds of their own or just a homicidal, disembodied hand on the loose have been around since the early days of cinema. Classic films like The Hands of Orlac (1924), it’s 1935 remake, Mad Love, as well as The Beast with Five Fingers (1946) and Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors (1965) are just a few that immediately come to mind.

After the phenomenal success of 1973’s The Exorcist, a plethora of demonic possession films flooded theater screens, creating a popular cycle of movies which consisted of, amongst other things, satanic possession and the power of good (usually in the form of a Catholic priest) to stop it. Titles such as Beyond the Door (1974), Abby (1974) and The Omen (1976) quickly followed, with the first two, although thoroughly entertaining, aping The Exorcist quite a bit. Unfortunately, there were also many films that were merely unenjoyable and stale Exorcist cash-ins. However, in 1981, a low-budget filmmaker smartly combined the homicidal hand idea with satanic possession and created a fun, little cult film called Demonoid.

While in Mexico, Mark Baines (Chinatown’s Roy Jenson) unwittingly unleashes an ancient evil in the form of a severed hand. The hand immediately possesses Mark and wreaks havoc until the poor man is killed and the demonic hand is separated from his dead body. Once free, the hand continues to possess anyone it comes across, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. With the help of benevolent Irish priest, Father Cunningham (Stuart Whitman from Eaten Alive), Mark’s wife, Jennifer (The Brood’ s Samantha Eggar), does everything in her power to try and stop the evil hand before more innocent blood is spilled.

The fun film features two Academy Award nominees: Samantha Eggar (for 1965’s The Collector) and Stuart Whitman (for 1961’s The Mark). Needless to say, Eggar and Whitman are both convincing due to taking their roles and the premise of the film seriously. This only helps the audience to believe in it as well, therefore making the film even more enjoyable. Fans of 60s/70s cinema and television will also be happy to spot highly recognizable character actor (and sometime stuntman) Roy Jenson from Our Man Flint, The Getaway, The Gauntlet, Kung Fu and Star Trek, just to name a few. Last, but not least, actor/stuntman Ted White (Starman), who is best known to genre fans for playing our favorite hockey-masked slasher-killer, Jason Voorhees in 1984’s Friday the 13^th: The Final Chapter, shows up as an unfortunate victim of the hand’s deadly rampage.

Filmmaker Alfredo Zacarias’ idea for Demonoid sprang from a desire to make a film about the good and evil that dwells within every person. Combining the disembodied hand idea with demonic possession/Exorcist-like themes, Zacarias fashioned a somewhat original and enjoyably cheesy drive-in film that grindhouse fans like me find extremely pleasurable. The movie may be a bit silly in spots (certain scenes of the hand moving around as well as the actors pretending that their left hands have a mind of their own are unintentionally hilarious and quite charming; not to mention the fact that Stuart Whitman goes in and out of an Irish accent whenever he feels like it), but it’s still an interesting and entertaining enough horror-thriller with a solid, likeable cast and a fun monster in the form of the disembodied hand.

Demonoid has been released as a Blu-ray/DVD combo from the fine folks at Vinegar Syndrome. The film, which has been restored from the original 35mm camera negative and scanned in 2K, is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio and, with the exception of a little grain here and there, the transfer looks beautiful. Special features include the theatrical trailer, TV spot, an artwork gallery, and an interesting and informative video interview with writer/director/producer Alfredo Zacarias. The disc also contains the international version of Demonoid titled Macabra, which runs ten minutes longer than the US version and features a different soundtrack (the US version uses music taken from the 1977 sci-fi classic The Incredible Melting Man). We are also treated to a Macabra trailer and TV spot. The eye-catching, original poster artwork for Demonoid can be seen on the Blu-ray sleeve and the Blu-ray disc itself while the striking artwork for Macabra shows up on the DVD disc as well as on the reversible sleeve. All in all, a very well put together collection of a not very well-known, but extremely fun film.

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By Todd Garbarini

Paramount Home Video has released a set of five horror films in 4K UHD format. Here is a breakdown of the films included in the set.

Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

I was in the minority of those left unimpressed by Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (1968), based upon the 1967 novel of the same name by Ira Levin. I never saw what the fuss was about and could not find it even remotely scary when I originally saw it in the 1980s on VHS. I rewatched the film when the Criterion Collection released it on the now-out-of-print Blu-ray in October 2012 (if you have that version, hold on to it) and I realized that I had an incorrect reading of it. I believe that the terror that oozes from the screen is directly attributed to Rosemary Woodhouse’s (Mia Farrow) new life in the enormous Dakota Apartments (made famous by Mark David Chapman following his murder of John Lennon in December 1980) which is surrounded by people who initially make her feel safe and welcomed, but slowly begin to reveal their true natures which are malevolent and evil. Her husband Guy (maverick independent film director and actor John Cassavetes) is a struggling actor who understudies for a Broadway play and is suddenly fast-tracked to the lead role by the inexplicable blindness that befalls the play’s lead actor (portrayed by an off-screen Tony Curtis over the phone) following a discussion with two nosy neighbors (Sidney Blackmer and Ruth Gordon as Roman and Minnie Castavet, respectively) who ingratiate themselves into their lives. Coincidence? Guy is often short-tempered with his wife, but midway through the film he suddenly has a burst of fatherhood when he suggests to her that they have a baby. Overwhelmingly happy, Rosemary soon becomes suspicious of the people around her during her pregnancy. They are revealed to be a coven of witches, and Rosemary is carrying Satan’s child during a disturbing sequence of supernatural impregnation that she believes was just a dream.

Rosemary’s Baby is the ultimate gaslighting movie. It is also a movie that, I would imagine, would work to great effect on the psyche of female audience members for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is due to knowing what the outcome of Rosemary’s pregnancy is, and knowing that no one, not even the doctor (Charles Grodin) she has foolishly and naïvely confiding in regarding her suspicions regarding the coven, can or is even willing to help her. The film is set against a backdrop of complete normalcy, and when that normalcy is slowly eroded by the Devil’s minions in sheep’s clothing, it’s too much for us and Rosemary to bear. It’s also a film about betrayal, and it’s shocking to see how Guy willingly confesses to her that he had no problem selling her out to this life inorder to make an easy life for themselves, something he sees as a bonus. Her reaction to him and to the (offscreen) face of her baby is complete disbelief, and Ms. Farrow is more than capable of carrying the film. Rosemary’s horrifically contorted face when she sees her baby for the first time, Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking (sorry, Walt…), is all that the audience needs to know that the evil has come full circle.

Rosemary’s Baby turns 55 this year. Filmed in the final four months of 1967 and released on Wednesday, June 12, 1968, it takes place in 1965 and 1966. Ruth Gordon won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her performance. It is widely considered to be one of the greatest horror films of all time, and it was selected for preservation in the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress in 2014. The film spawned a TV-movie follow-up in 1976 with Patty Duke.

The new package contains the film in 4K UHD on one disc, and the film on a standard Blu-ray, the latter boasting the following extras:

Rosemary's Baby – A Retrospective – this piece, originally shot in 2000 for the DVD, runs just under 17 minutes and includes comments from the late film producer Robert Evans, the late production designer Richard Sylbert, and Roman Polanski.

Mia and Roman – this piece runs roughly 23 minutes and contains a lot of nice behind-the-scenes shots taken during filming on location in New York City, with input from actress Mia Farrow and director Roman Polanski.

Theatrical Trailer

50th Anniversary "Redband" Trailer

This is a nice upgrade to 4K that will make you feel as though you’re watching it in a cinema again, though the lack of a feature-length commentary by film historians is disappointing given the film’s stature in the genre, making one wonder if the director is just against this sort of thing. Steven Spielberg and David Lynch do not offer commentaries on their works, sadly.

NOTE: It has come to Paramount’s attention that there is an error on this pressing, and they are going to correct it with a disc replacement program. Apparently there is a line of dialog missing from the film! When you purchase this box set, click on this link to request the replacement discs which should become available in the next several months.

Pet Sematary (1989)

Stephen King published two frightening and best-selling novels in 1983: Christine and Pet Sematary. Attempting to sandwich these massive tales into films that ran less than two hours is a near impossible task and neither film, the former directed by John Carpenter and the latter by Mary Lambert, is completely successful in this regard. Lensed between August and November 1988 and released on Friday, April 21, 1989, Pet Sematary begins with a familiar nod to Dan Curtis’s creepy Burnt Offerings (1976) as Dr. Louis Creed and his wife Rachel (Dale Midkiff and Denise Crosby) leave the Windy City and arrive at their new Ludlow, Main home with their young daughter Ellie (Blasé Berdahl) and even younger son Gage (Miko Hughes). The house is located right in front of a major road that trucks whiz by at a high rate of speed, setting up the roadway as the imminent threat. Jud Crandall (Fred Gwynne), the family neighbor, takes them to the Pet Sematary and explains how children bury their pets there. This proves convenient when the family, sans Louis, visit Rachel’s parents for Thanksgiving, and Ellie’s cat Winston Churchill (“Church” for short) is killed by a truck. Jud takes Louis to a location beyond the Pet Sematary called the Micmac Burying Ground dating back to ancient Native American days. Buried pets have come back to life, though their personalities are different, and this is no exception with Church. The idea is to save Ellie the grief of losing him.

Following Ellie’s displeasure of the now-reanimated Church’s smell, Gage finds himself in the path of a truck and, following his death, Louis digs up his corpse and heads for the Micmac Burying Ground despite verbal warnings from Jud. Unfortunately, Gage comes back as a meanie, killing those around him until a final showdown with his father.

Despite being written by author King, the screenplay never really manages to get above the level of a gross-out horror film. The subject of grief is best left to serious dramas (think Ingmar Bergman) as director Mary Lambert can only give us what’s on the written page as a truncation of an oversized novel, is fairly schematic at best. Whereas the novel is more of a deep-rooted mediation on the nature of the overwhelming emotion of grief over the death of a child, the film focuses more on the horrific aspects of the deaths at hand. It does seem to be enough, however, to satisfy genre fans.

Bonus Content (on both 4K UHD Blu-ray and Standard Blu-ray Disc):

Feature-length commentary by director Mary Lambert

Pet Sematary: Fear and Remembrance – this piece is in high definition and runs about 7 minutes. Select members of the film’s cast and crew look back on the film and its reception.

Pet Sematary: Revisitation – this piece is in high definition and runs about 10 minutes. The director discusses the film’s production, how she came to direct the movie, and restoring the film.

Still Galleries – this is in high definition and consists of a large selection of photos separated into four sections.

Storyboards Introduction by Mary Lambert – this intro runs 1 minute in length. She explains how they derived the new transfer from the original camera negative and how the storyboards came to be.

Storyboards – this feature is extensive and recalls the image galleries of the laserdisc days. By using the left and right buttons on the remote control, you can navigate what is essentially a visual representation of the film. Very cool!

Behind the Scenes – this is a stills gallery that, like the storyboards, can be navigated in a similar fashion, showing images on the set of shooting during the summer of 1988.

Marketing – nice section of stills containing the marketing of the film for both theatrical and home video exhibition.

The following extras are only on the standard Blu-ray, though I will never understand why they do not replicate all extras on both discs as there is more than enough room to do so:

Stephen King Territory – this is a nice piece from 2006 that is shot in standard definition for the then-DVD release and runs about 13 minutes. It discusses the autobiographical genesis for the story, which really happened to Mr. King’s family and daughter.

The Characters – also from 2006 and shot in standard definition, this runs 13 minutes and looks at the motivations behind the characters and the cats used on the set. They had an ingenious method of making the cat’s eyes glow maniacally with an attachment to the Panavision cameras.

Filming the Horror – running 10 minutes, Mary Lambert discusses how the script came to her and while she read Stephen King’s novels, she did not consider herself to be a horror film director. Miko Hughes, who was two-and-a-half-years old when he played Gage, appears to have had a fun time on the set!

Smile (2022)

David Sandberg’s 2013 short film Lights Out is a brilliantly frightening, just-under-three-minute film about a woman seeing a strange creature in her kitchen and bedroom. It is widely available on Youtube and is one of the scariest movies I have seen in my 42 years of watching horror films and thrillers. It provided the basis for an unnecessary, feature-length film of the same name three years later, also directed by the same person, who has gone on to direct Annabelle: Creation (2017), as well as other projects. Likewise, Parker Finn is a director who made a short film called Laura Hasn’t Slept (2020), starring Caitlin Stasey and Lew Temple as her somnologist. It’s the second short he made after his impressive and creepy The Hidebehind (2018), a nearly ten-minute now-you-see-me, now-you-don’t bit of computer trickery that will make you think twice about trekking solo in a forest. In Laura Hasn’t Slept, which is just under twelve minutes, Laura tells her therapist that she has a recurring nightmare wherein a frightening man is constantly smiling at her. While I appreciated the effort of this film and experienced no difficulty in determining the ending, the prospect of sitting through the theatrical version entitled Smile simply did not sit well with me. My disappointment with Lights Out nearly made me pass on Smile, and I am glad that I reconsidered.

Unlike most of the horror films marketed today, Smile is every bit as terrifying as its marketing campaign has professed. Like The Blair Witch Project (1999), Smile feels like the sort of film that would emotionally bifurcate the audience into those who love it and those who hate it. In terms of genre tropes, the film’s most obvious cinematic antecedent is David Robert Mitchell’s superb It Follows (2014), and a nod to the film’s title can be further traced back to the malevolent chauffeur, played with icy stillness by the late Anthony James in Dan Curtis’s Burnt Offerings (1976). While it is true that familiarity can often breed contempt, this does not make Smile any less frightening. There is credence to the notion that although the film might offer up a less-than-compassionate view of mental illness and handle the subject flippantly, the movie should ultimately be judged for what it sets out to do: scare you. It may not be completely original, but it is no less frightening.

Sosie Bacon, the daughter of Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick, gives a bravura performance as recently engaged Rose Cotter, a psychiatrist who meets a new patient, Laura Weaver (Caitlin Stasey, the actress from the short film), who fails to convince Rose that she is being chased by a demon that possesses people by smiling at them. Rose’s training misinterprets this as an episode of some sort of psychosis until Laura screams and reacts violently to something in the examination room invisible to Rose. Laura’s terror suddenly turns inexplicably serene wherein she effortlessly cuts her own throat with a broken plant’s pot while smiling maniacally at Rose, who reacts with complete terror. Unbeknownst to Rose, a terrible curse that plagued Laura has now been transferred to her. It takes Rose a while to make this realization. In the interim, she blames what she experiences on overworking, reluctantly taking a week off at the urging of her manager. Her fiancée (Jesse T. Usher) wants to help her but feels powerless. Rose begins to have hallucinations, and as the audience we see what she sees. Her mother’s painful death becomes a force that she needs to reckon with and is a major reason why she works as hard as she does. The hallucinations become more and more unnerving. With the aid of her ex-boyfriend cop Joel (Kyle Gallner), she begins looking into murder cases wherein people having died by suicide that they committed in front of another person, and they themselves have also witnessed a suicide. A turning point occurs when Robert Talley (Rob Morgan of Netflix’s Stranger Things, in a small but powerful role), a murderer currently in prison, managed to escape the clutches of the entity. With Joel’s help, Rose goes to the prison to see him. He tells Rose that the entity feeds on other people’s trauma. Apparently, the only way to relieve oneself of this curse is to murder someone else in front of a witness to thereby transfer the trauma on to them (again, similarly like in It Follows). Rose attempts to do this, yet it turns out to be another hallucination. By the end of the film, Rose confronts her childhood trauma at her now-abandoned childhood home in an unsatisfactory ending that paves the way for a sequel.

Thematically similar to Rosemary’s Baby in that the protagonist knows the truth and cannot seem to convince anyone around them that they are not crazy, Smile, while certainly not original, manages to take a familiar horror genre trope and seriously make it its own, packing a powerful emotional punch with several genuine jump scares nearly on a par with Gary Sherman’s Death Line (1972) and William Peter Blatty’s Exorcist III: Legion (1990). In order for a film like this to work, the performances need to be believable and they are all spot-on.

Bonus Content (on 4K Ultra HD Disc):

Audio Commentary by director Parker Finn – this is a feature-length discussion by the film’s director who speaks about the movie scene by scene regarding what he wanted in the scenes and what he got. I normally shy away from such commentaries as I am not interested in a blow-by-blow description of the film, but the director speaks so intelligently about it that he is a constant pleasure to listen to.

Something's Wrong with Rose: Making Smile (HD) – at just under 30 minutes, this is a behind-the-scenes look at what it took to make the film in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Flies on the Wall: Inside the Score (HD) – Smile has one of the creepiest scores that I have ever heard, and it was composed by Cristobal Tapia de Veer. In under nine minutes, we are treated to his vast studio and his methods of creating ungodly sounds for the film.

Deleted Scenes with Optional Commentary by director Parker Finn – there are two scenes provided here with an optional commentary and add depth to Rose’s character. These run just under 12 minutes. I would have loved to have had these scenes added as an optional cut of the film viewable through seamless branching.

Laura Hasn't Slept – Original Short with Introduction by director Parker Finn – this is the short film that Paramount scouts saw at South By Southwest in Austin, TX that paved the way for Smile. It runs about 11 minutes.

By Fred Blosser

“The Hands of Orlac,” a 1960 U.K.-French co-production, was the third movie version of “Les Mains d’Orlac,” a sensational 1920 novel by French writer Maurice Renard. Like many of the other horror pictures released in 1960, it was filmed in black-and-white. The director, Edmond T. Gréville, was a veteran French-born filmmaker who had worked in both France and England. His previous picture, “Beat Girl” (1960), had featured Christopher Lee as a strip club impresario in an exploitative story about beatniks, aspiring rockers, and strippers. Lee and other British actors filled most of the major supporting roles in “The Hands of Orlac.” Exterior scenes were filmed on the French Riviera, interiors at Britain’s Shepperton Studios. An American actor, Mel Ferrer, was cast in the lead. Ferrer was a reliably familiar leading man for the all-important U.S. market. His name lent box-office appeal in those days when foreign movies were suspect in small-town America, as it did for another offbeat horror production in which he also starred that same year, Roger Vadim’s “Blood and Roses,” a French and Italian co-production. But U.S. distributors apparently saw no pressing need to slip Gréville’s film into American theaters, since it didn’t open here until 1964. By that time, a promotional still from the movie had appeared in the October 1963 issue of “Famous Monsters of Filmland” magazine, in a preview of upcoming horror and fantasy releases.

In the story, a celebrated concert pianist and composer, Stephen Orlac (Ferrer), flies from London to France to visit his fiancee, Louise (Lucile Saint Simon). His small plane wrecks in a fog, and Orlac’s hands are “burnt to the bone” in the crash. After his ambulance passes through a police checkpoint where a condemned murderer, Vasseur, is being transported to the guillotine, Louise prevails on a famous surgeon, Dr. Volchett (Donald Wolfit), to operate in an effort to save her lover’s badly injured hands. Coming out of the anaesthetic, Orlac finds his hands encased in huge, unsightly plaster casts. Worse, he sees the front page of a newspaper that juxtaposes a report about Vasseur’s execution with one about his own injuries. To his groggy eyes, the stories gradually merge into one under the headline, “Stephen Orlac Receives the Hands of Vasseur, the Murderer.” Lifting the grotesque casts, Orlac flies into hysterics. This was the publicity still that intrigued us young readers of “Famous Monsters” in 1963. It was also the centerpiece of the movie’s lobby-poster art.

Did the newspaper actually display the stories that Orlac read, more or less as he interpreted them? Was he hallucinating? Was there even a newspaper at all? No matter, the high-strung pianist becomes convinced that the surgeon found his hands irreparably damaged, amputated them, and replaced them with Vasseur’s, especially since, as he mourns, “They feel as if they no longer belong to me!” After the casts come off, he can’t get his fingers to strike the right notes on the keyboard.

The obsession grows stronger when Orlac and Louise make love. His fingers unconsciously tighten around her throat, and she begins to choke. That incident and others convince the pianist that Vasseur’s hands have a violent will of their own, and his fiancee’s life is in danger as long as they’re together. He checks into a sketchy Marseilles hotel under an assumed name, where he encounters a small-time stage magician named Nero (Christopher Lee, returning from “Beat Girl” as an even sleazier character). Nero senses an opportunity for blackmail; obviously, “Mr. Stephen” is a well-off guy who wouldn’t be holed up in a dump unless he had something to hide. Nero pimps out his pouty assistant and mistress, Li-Lang (Dany Carrel), to cozy up to Orlac and get him to talk.

Orlac’s self-imposed exile doesn’t last long. After Louise tracks him down, he decides to straighten up, return to England, marry Louise, and resume his career. But he continues to brood over his persuasion that his hands are no longer his own. Discovering “Mr. Stephen’s” true identity, Nero and Li-Lang follow. Nero sets about to feed Orlac’s paranoia, reasoning that the unhinged pianist will kill someone sooner or later, opening himself to big-time extortion.

To the extent that film enthusiasts take notice of “The Hands of Orlac” at all, they mostly judge it seriously inferior to the previous movie versions of Renard’s novel. Robert Wiene’s “Orlacs Hände” (1924), also called “The Hands of Orlac” in English-language prints, was a classic of German silent cinema, with Conrad Veidt as the title character amid feverish Expressionist sets. Following in 1935 from MGM, Karl Freund’s “Mad Love” with Colin Clive as Orlac draped the story in sadism and sexual perversion, to the extent Freund could do so under the vigilant eyes of the Hays Code censors.

Gréville’s remake dialed back on Wiene’s and Freund’s extravagance, accounting for some of its lacklustre press from critics who like to see the gothic thriller envelope pushed further than Gréville pushed it, at least in their opinion. It’s very much a product of 1960, emphasising the psychological aspect of Orlac’s dilemma and stepping into film noir territory once the intimidating Nero and Li-Lang enter the plot. It even evokes the emerging New Wave of French cinema with its documentarian exterior shots on the Riviera. Claude Bolling’s musical score includes light jazz for a scene in which Orlac tools around in a vintage sports car, and rinky-tink cabaret music for Li-Lang’s sultry song-and-slink routine following Nero’s magic act, juxtaposed with Beethoven and Liszt in the concert scenes that open and close the movie. Mel Ferrer lacks Conrad Veidt’s eye-popping hysteria and Colin Clive’s furrowed anxiety, his Orlac repurposed for 1960 as a sophisticate in shades, pullover sweater, and tailored slacks for casual wear, and an expensive suit for business occasions. If you’re a retro-fan of JFK-era men’s fashions, you probably won’t mind. You may even prefer Ferrer’s interpretation over his predecessors’. Like other British horror films of the time, such as “Jack the Ripper” (1959) and “The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll” (1960), “The Hands of Orlac” promises plenty of sex appeal courtesy of Lucile Saint Simon’s filmy negligees and Dany Carrel’s showgirl outfits. In truth, this stuff is pretty tame by 2023 standards, but it was a draw for male filmgoers at a time when even the centrefolds in “Playboy” were often modestly posed.

For most of the picture, we don’t know whether Orlac’s obsession has a basis in reality, since we don’t actually see the operation itself. Were the killer’s hands really grafted onto his wrists, or is the pianist suffering from a morbid neurosis? An explanation is made toward the end that for may find satisfying or frustrating, depending on your tastes. It doesn’t help that Orlac is surrounded by oddball characters who only compound his unease. Nero is the only one who is overtly menacing, but others are unsettling in their own ways. In his few minutes on screen, Donald Wolfit’s Dr. Volchett is brusque and possibly alcoholic; his decision to save (or replace) Stephen’s damaged hands seems more a whim than a humanitarian impulse. His unnamed assistant (Anita Sharp Bolster) is a starchy spinster who wears rimless glasses with impenetrably thick lenses, like Albert Dekker’s in 1940’s “Dr. Cyclops.” When Orlac tries to call Dr. Volchett to either confirm or relieve his suspicions, the assistant tells him the surgeon is on professional travel—to Moscow!—and unreachable in that era before cellphones and Zoom. She brightens up as she enjoys a chance to extol her boss, but her comments only deepen Orlac’s fears: “Dr. Volchett is a magician,” she declares. “Your case was his greatest triumph.” In a small but bravura appearance, Donald Pleasence plays Coates, a sculptor who wants to use Orlac’s hands as the model for those of Lazarus in a biblical tableau of Lazarus raised from the dead. “All we see of Lazarus is his hands—your hands, Orlac!”, he exclaims, seizing the pianist’s wrists. Given Stephen’s state of mind, the sculptor’s fervor is more invasive than flattering, like the irritating stranger who latches on to you at a party and won’t let go. As he makes his pitch with growing enthusiasm, Orlac stares at his hands (poised exactly as he had scrutinized his grotesque casts earlier in the story), and runs off in panic.

“The Hands of Orlac” isn’t the best horror thriller of 1960. That would be Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho,” with “Blood and Roses” and Georges Franju’s “Eyes Without a Face” as close seconds. But it’s better than its obscurity would imply. In the U.S., “Eyes Without a Face” was dumped onto double bills as “The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus” and generally ignored by critics, much as “The Hands of Orlac” was. Now, it’s widely regarded as a classic. It’s surprising that Gréville’s picture hasn’t received similar reappraisal, given the renewed interest in neglected horror films in the home video era, and the movie’s value as an early showcase for Christopher Lee and Donald Pleasence. The problem may lie with the fact that an official DVD or Blu-ray edition for fair evaluation doesn’t exist in the U.S., the U.K., or anywhere else as far as I can tell. DVD-R versions are sold on the collector’s market, with caveats about their visual quality.

We discovered this presentation of the film on YouTube, apparently sourced from tape, perhaps one of two competing VHS releases in the 1990s, or a videotape from a long-ago television broadcast. The image is better than you might expect, if inferior to the hi-def transfers we’ve come to expect nowadays. It’s also the easiest way to find the movie, at least until we can hope to see original elements unearthed, if they still exist, and a better print prepared for Blu-ray or one of the major streaming platforms.

(To watch in full screen format, click on "Watch on YouTube".)

By Todd Garbarini

Something happened to me while watching John Cassavetes’s film Gloria that, to my knowledge, has never, ever happened before and probably will never, ever happen again. Towards the end of the film, the titular heroine exits a cab and asks the cabbie for the time, and she replies, “It’s 9:20.” Unbelievably, this was the exact time of day that it was on my clock as I watched the film in the evening. In films, people give the time to others when asked (Charles Martin Smith is told that it’s “a quarter to twelve” when attempting to purchase alcohol in George Lucas’s 1973 film American Graffiti), but the phenomenon of the onscreen reel time being in synch with the offscreen real time is something that I have not experienced before, and it got me to thinking about how certain things happen by mere happenstance.

The cinema of John Cassavetes is an acquired taste as he was a maverick who made many films on his own terms. If the general audience loved his work, it would infuriate him and he would recut the film, as was the case with 1970’s Husbands, a film that was released, critically acclaimed, pulled out of release and re-cut into a completely different film, culled from roughly 240 hours of raw footage. Co-star Ben Gazzara stated that his favorite version of the film ran four-and-a-half hours. The director often employed members of a small but loyal acting troupe headed by his wife, Gena Rowlands, who portrays the titular heroine in this film, shot between July and September 1979 and released in New York on Wednesday, October 1, 1980. She received her second Oscar nomination for her performance here, the first being for A Woman Under the Influence in 1974, also under the direction her husband.

Gloria is a film mired in Manhattan, Harlem and the Bronx in New York. The film opens with nighttime establishing shots of the New York skyline to the music of Bill Conti best known for the theme to Rocky (1976). The Statue of Liberty and several bridges are luminescent and invoke Richard Donner’s Superman: The Movie filmed there two years earlier. The daylight exposes the filthy streets and the people who inhabit them. A six-year-old Puerto Rican boy, Phil Dawn (John Adames), narrowly escapes being killed by the Mafia following his mob accountant father’s (Buck Henry of all people) involvement with them turned sour. Phil is saddled with a copy of the Bible, which in reality is incriminating evidence that the Mafia wants back in their hands. His parents and siblings all become collateral damage as he and the family friend, Gloria, bolt and attempt to get away. Gloria is part of the Mafia. She possesses street smarts and packs heat, unflinchingly firing upon her enemies in broad daylight, though no cops appear to be anywhere in sight. Like the interior of Marcellus Wallace’s suitcase in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction (1994), this Bible proves to be a MacGuffin to keep Gloria and Phil on the run.

Initially, Gloria and Phil cannot stand one another, and the former appears to be reluctant to be saddled with the latter despite her promise to Phil’s parents to take care of him. Eventually, they grow on one another and, dare I say it, even develop a mutual affection. John Adames proves himself to be a capable actor though, to my knowledge, this is his sole screen credit. The film, despite reportedly being disparaged by its director (who probably would have been happy to completely recut it), is a showcase for its leading actress, who is always fascinating to watch.

Gloria was released on Blu-ray in August 2018 by Twilight Time and that pressing contained an isolated musical score. There is a new pressing of the film, this time by Kino Lorber, and the results are unspectacular. This is not a carp about Kino,since they always do a bang-up job on their Blu-ray releases. The film image is dark at times, especially in the beginning scenes in the apartment building (look fast for Tom Noonan as a Mafia soldier), and it looks as though it was transferred from a theatrical print, minus the reel-change cue marks. I am only assuming this to be the case (though I am probably incorrect), or perhaps this was how it was either photographed or developed as the liner notes are absent of the usual declaration boasting a high-definition transfer from the film’s original camera negative.

The only extras to speak of on this pressing are theatrical trailers for Gloria, Sidney Lumet’s Gloria remake from 1999, Gorky Park (1983), 52 Pick-Up (1986), Code of Silence (1985), Number One with a Bullet (1987), and Lonely are the Brave (1962).

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By Todd Garbarini

“Bueller…Bueller…Bueller…Bueller…”

These four words…sorry, this single word spoken four times…by the inimitable Ben Stein in the late John Hughes’s highly popular teen comedy Ferris Bueller’s Day Off while reading off the attendance roster to his near catatonic high school class has worked its way into the American lexicon to the point that it has become recognizable to anyone even remotely familiar with the film. Like its predecessors, the “You’re gonna need a bigger boat” ad-lib from Steven Spielberg’s Jaws (1975), and Jack Nicholson’s quirky yet somehow terrifying “Here’s Johnny!” from Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980), one need not have seen the film to know from where it originated. The adults in this film are all depicted as somehow less smart than their adolescent counterparts and all seem to be easily duped and manipulated. Why are they depicted this way? Was the director, who was also the writer of Mr. Mom (1983), National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983), Sixteen Candles (1984), The Breakfast Club (1985), Weird Science (1985) and Pretty in Pink (1986), simply not a fan of the adult world, a modern-day J.D. Salinger?

Ferris Bueller, the titular hero, is a Northbrook, Illinois high school student two months shy of his high school graduation and commits a crime that all students have at one time or another – he feigns serious illness to stay home from school. However, it is not for nefarious purposes: he wants to get his best friend, Cameron (Alan Ruck), out of the doldrums. His parents are complete dolts for believing him, though his sister Jeanie (Jennifer Grey) and Principal Rooney (Jeffrey Jones) both see right through this common ploy and the latter, whose small-mindedness and lack of stature outside of his role of an authoritarian, drives him to catch Ferris in the act at any cost. He goes to great lengths to catch Bueller, breaking the rules, and even some laws, that find him in the Bueller household, face-to-face with a vicious dog.

Playing hooky for the day with a reluctant Cameron and Ferris’s girlfriend Sloane (Mia Sara) whom he gets out of school posing as her father in a get-up not dissimilar from the accoutrements he would later don as the titular Inspector Gadget he would play in the 1999 film of the same name. The trio finds themselves in a series of misadventures throughout Chicago via Cameron’s upscale father’s 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder which occupies much of the film’s running time, the most significant of which is the film’s famous and highly celebrated moment when Ferris commandeers a float during a parade and leads the onlookers through an impromptu lip-synch of The Beatles hit “Twist and Shout.” It is not all fun and games, however, when we learn of Cameron’s contempt for his father’s car which the latter supposedly cares more about than his own son. He sublimates his anger in a highly volatile and emotional scene that proves cathartic for Cameron and, in a way, for Ferris as well. It would explain why Cameron is always uptight and unable to relax, something that the carefree Ferris hopes to change. In many ways, Cameron and Jeanie are not dissimilar from one another, as they both find teen life to be insufferable, and that makes them the most realistic characters in the film.

Ferris is unusual in that he is not only a free spirit, but just about everyone in his high school, regardless of their grade level, likes him. Why? He has proven that he can get away with just about anything. He’s also willing to help others out of their predicaments. This mindset is what makes him elusive from Principal Rooney, a self-appointed Truancy Officer determined to catch Ferris in the act of cutting school because Rooney’s identity outside of high school appears to be non-existent. He is the Coyote to Bueller’s Road Runner, and he takes the whole situation personally.

The film, which opened nationwide on Wednesday, June 11, 1986, differs from most comedies in that it breaks the fourth wall in the tradition of Woody Allen’s great Annie Hall (1977) when Ferris addresses the audience directly during much of the action. In the pantheon of teen comedies, Ferris Bueller is clearly de rigueur viewing and, given that it was lensed between September and November in 1985, feels very Eighties and inspired by Matthew Broderick’s David Lightman computer geek from John Badham’s entertaining 1983 film WarGames with Ferris’s ability to remotely change his sick days in the high school computer right before his principal’s very eyes. Ferris rigs his room and front door intercom with an ingenious array of general solutions anticipating most common eventualities that could undo his plan to keep his parents thinking that he is sleeping off illness.

Ferris Bueller did exceptionally well at the box office, easily becoming an iconic Eighties Comedy, the film that essentially made Mr. Broderick a star following his screen debut in Herbert Ross’s Max Dugan Returns several years earlier and playing opposite Michelle Pfeiffer in Richard Donner’s Ladyhawke (1985). Cameos abound by a fifteen-year-old Kristy Swanson just before she became Wes Craven’s Deadly Friend, Richard Edson, Charlie Sheen just before he made Platoon with Oliver Stone, and comedian Louie Anderson. With the exception of some on-set studio shots in Los Angeles and Ferris Bueller’s house location in Long Beach, CA (eight houses away from the home that Richard Kelly’s 2001 cult classic Donnie Darko is set in), the film is shot nearly entirely in Illinois, the director’s home state.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off has been released on 4K UHD Blu-ray by Paramount Home Video. This is the best that the film has ever looked on video, easily besting all previous releases. It also comes loaded with previously released extras:

There is a feature-length audio commentary by director Hughes, the only one that he ever recorded for his any of his films, ported over from the 1999 DVD release. Glaringly missing from subsequent DVD and Blu-ray editions of the movie (reportedly at the behest of the director who probably got tired of Hollywood and moved back to his home state to keep a low profile), its inclusion here is welcome, appreciated, and more than likely included for two reasons - a response to the director’s untimely demise and to compel die-hard fans to fork over their disposable income for this latest upgraded edition. It is pretty much scene-specific with very minor tangents. It stays on-topic, and Mr. Hughes had a very monotone and droll delivery.

The following are all ported over from the 2006 special edition DVD “Bueller…Bueller” and 2009 Blu-ray editions:

Getting the Class Together: The Cast of Ferris Bueller's Day Off – this piece runs 27:45 in standard definition and the interviews were shot in 2005. The film’s casting directors, Jane Jenkins and Janet Hirshenson, begin this piece feeling that Matthew Broderick or John Cusack would be great in the lead role. Mr. Broderick was in Biloxi Blues on Broadway with Alan Ruck when he was offered the role and their chemistry transferred over from real life to the stage, and then to the audition when the latter was offered Cameron. Mia Sara, Jennifer Grey, Lyman Ward, Cindy Pickett, Jeffrey Jones, Edie McClurg, Ben Stein (a very humorous tidbit), Richard Edson, Kristy Swanson, and Jonathan Schmock all add their two cents on their experiences.

The Making of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off runs 15:29 and really should be much longer and for what it is, it includes some footage shot during the filming in addition to recent interviews taking a look back at the film, such as Jeffrey Jones and Edie McClurg and their “Help, Hinder” game; Alan Ruck talks about the Ferrari and how three replicas were made for the film; Matthew Broderick talks about the parade sequence and how it was a one-shot deal and how knee surgery from years earlier affected him in the sequence.

Who is Ferris Bueller? runs 9:12 and collects cast members and their responses to the question from 1985-87 and 2005. Alan Ruck talks about the wardrobe fittings and how there was no chemistry between the characters and being put at ease by the director. Ferris is a guy who does whatever he wants and has the self-confidence that his friends lack.

The World According to Ben Stein runs 10:50 and is comprised of comments from Mr. Stein in 1986 and 2005 talking about his experiences following the success of the film, with funny tidbits about Kurt Cobain and even President Bush (the first one) having seen the film on Air Force One.

Vintage Ferris Bueller: The Lost Tapes runs 10:16 and provides outtakes from the expurgated restaurant scene of Cameron ordering pancreas that the director refers to in his commentary.

There was a Class Album gallery that appeared in the previous releases, but it is inexplicably dropped from this release.

The film’s original theatrical trailer is also missing for unknown reasons, though you can see it here and a later trailer to promote the Blu-ray at the time.

The ending of the film recalls Paul Brickman’s Risky Business from 1983 (think of Tom Cruise landing on his parents’ couch when they walk in from their trip) when Ferris makes it home just in time to get into bed as his parents head into his room. Ferris, addressing the audience, says, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” This line, which is far more upbeat than the plaintive final sentences of J.D. Salinger’s classic novel of adolescent angst The Catcher in the Rye (1951), rings true for people more today than it did when it was filmed. Social media, computers, and cell phones all conspire to divert our attention from the meaningful things in life.

One can only imagine what sort of mischief Ferris would create today with the World Wide Web and OpenAI’s ChatGPT. Perhaps a remake is in order?

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By Lee Pfeiffer

William Friedkin, who reinvented the crime and horror film genres with "The French Connection" and "The Exorcist", has died in Los Angeles at age 87. Friedkin's first film was based on a personal obsession- to get a man incarcerated on Death Row exonerated. The 1962 documentary "The People vs. Paul Crump" was deemed a deciding factor in getting the innocent man released. The Chicago native first worked in the television industry before landing his first Hollywood feature film, directing the comedy "Good Times" starring Sonny and Cher in 1967. The film wasn't a hit but Friedkin was learning his craft. His diverse output included a screen adaptation of Harold Pinter's acclaimed, offbeat play "The Birthday Party" starring Robert Shaw and Donald Pleasence, the exuberant Prohibition era comedy "The Night They Raided Minsky's" and "The Boys in the Band", a daring screen version of the controversial play about the lives and relationships of gay men. 

Friedkin's biggest break came when he was hired to direct "The French Connection" in 1971, an adaptation of the bestselling book that documented the biggest drug bust in U.S. history. Friedkin's passion for eschewing the trappings of conventional crime films paid off when he won the Oscar for directing. The film also won Best Picture and Best Actor for Gene Hackman in a star-making role. Friedkin's next film was also an adaptation of a bestseller- in this case William Peter Blatty's horror novel "The Exorcist". Friedkin resisted hiring popular leading actors of the day in place of casting reliable character actors and leads with little name recognition. His transformation of 12 year-old Linda Blair into a terrifying demon immediately became the stuff of horror film legend. However, the film won over critics and was nominated for numerous Oscars because Friedkin made the production a thinking person's horror film with interesting characters and believable reactions to the surrealistic events. Following the worldwide success of this second Friedkin blockbuster, Friedkin did not bring another film to the screen for four years. When he did, it was "Sorcerer", a lavish and grueling reinterpretation of French director Henri-Georges Clouzot's acclaimed 1953 adventure film "The Wages of Fear". The film seemed to be cursed. On location in the Dominican Republic, Friedkin had to face soaring budget costs due to natural disasters and other seemingly insurmountable problems. When the film opened, it flopped. Friedkin, in an interview about the film with this writer in Cinema Retro issue #29, said that studio executives threw him under the bus by implying the film had gone over-budget because Friedkin lacked self-control in terms of spending. Friedkin tried to set the record straight but the damage was done. His reputation had taken a hit and his next film, the comedy "The Brink's Job" was also a critical and financial disappointment. his 1980 crime thriller "Cruising" cast Al Pacino as a New York detective who goes under cover in Gotham's gay leather bar scene to find a serial killer. The film caused great controversy, with gay activists denouncing it even before filming had been completed. Critics assailed the film as vulgar and unsatisfying, but like "Sorcerer" it has been favorably re-evaluated in the ensuing years. Friedkin continued to work steadily but only the 1985 crime thriller "To Live and Die in L.A." gained any kind of attention and that was largely due to an extravagant car chase.

Over the following years, Friedkin would divide his time directing films and TV productions as well as live operas. He would never score another boxoffice hit but he appreciated the attention and accolades he received later in life that commemorated his body of work. He took satisfaction from the fact that his 2011 film "Killer Joe" starring Matthew McConaughey became a cult favorite for younger audiences. Friedkin is survived by his wife, producer and former studio head Sherry Lansing. His final film, a remake of "The Caine Mutiny", will premiere at this year's Venice Film Festival.

Cinema Retro mourns the passing of this great filmmaker and we appreciate his contributions to our magazine. His last interview (with Todd Garbarini) appeared in issue #50 in which he discussed the 50th anniversary of "The French Connection".

Rest in peace, Billy.

Retro-Active: From the Cinema Retro Archives

By Lee Pfeiffer 

Justly acclaimed as one of the greatest film noir movies ever made, director Don Siegel's 1958 thriller The Lineup has been reissued by Sony as part of their burn-to-order DVD collection. The DVD carries over the bonus extras from the film's initial release in a Sony noir boxed set from 2009. Siegel makes the most of his modest budget, eschewing studio sets for actual San Francisco locations that add immeasurably the authenticity of the story and the action sequences, which are among the most ambitious of the era. The film derived from a popular TV series of the same name and features the star of the show, Warner Anderson, as a San Francisco detective, Lt. Ben Guthrie. His sidekick, Inspector Al Quine was originally played in the show by Tom Tully but the part in the film is played by Emile Meyer, whose mug perfectly suits the style of the movie. The "Macguffin" of this caper movie is an ornate doll loaded with heroin that has been carried into the United States by an innocent tourist (Raymond Bailey, the future Mr. Drysdale of "The Beverly Hillbillies".). The doll ends up in the hands of an equally innocent little girl and her mother who were on the same cruise ship. However, this is just a necessary plot device to present a fascinating character study of a team of criminals who are assigned to fly from Miami to San Francisco to claim the doll and deliver the drugs to a mysterious crime lord. Things go awry from the first few frames of the movie when an attempt to steal the tourist's luggage goes wrong, resulting in the death of a crime syndicate courier who bungles the first attempt to get the doll. The resulting action follows the desperate attempts by the Miami crooks to secure the missing drugs. Their lives depend on it because if they fail, the mob will suspect they have double-crossed them and kept the heroin for themselves. The criminal team is among the most psychotic ever seen on film. Dancer (Eli Wallach) is the younger man being groomed by his older mentor, Julian (Robert Keith, father of Brian Keith) to be his heir apparent. The two men are outwardly charismatic and friendly, but as the story progresses, we realize they are merciless sadists who will stop at nothing to get what they want. When they kidnap the young girl and her mother, we get a glimpse at exactly how devoid of human emotions they are. 

The caper story, expertly penned by the great Sterling Silliphant,  follows the efforts of the detectives to get to the drugs first-- but the cops are mere window dressing, as Siegel is clearly saving the best scenes for his hit men. Wallach and Keith rival that great pairing of Lee Marvin and Clu Gulager as the creepy criminal team in Siegel's memorable 1964 remake of The Killers. On one level, Keith is acting as a father to a younger man who might be seen as an adopted son. However, it doesn't take much to see that Siegel has introduced a very clear homoerotic element to the story which becomes even more apparent when the pair end up in a "social club" and hotel that very obviously caters to homosexual men. In case there is still too much subtlety for the viewer, the place is named the Seaman's Club!  (In one of the film's best remembered sequences, Wallach "offs" a would-be lover in a steam room.) The film is packed with inventive sequences that are still somewhat shocking today. It's rather amazing that some of these scenes were not diluted by squeamish studio executives. A helpless woman and her young child are kidnapped and menaced, a man in a wheelchair is thrown to his death and any number of innocent people are put in harm's way by the relentless criminal's quest to secure the missing dope. Most impressive is the climax of the film wherein Siegel films an exciting car chase that culminates on an unfinished stretch of freeway. It will have you on the edge of your seat (look for an amazing bit of stunt work in which a car is driven at high speed within feet of dropping off the end of the construction site.) All the earmarks are evident for what would become trademarks of Siegel's films: the story moves quickly, there isn't a wasted frame and the performances are terrific. 

Sony's DVD boasts an excellent transfer and some very interesting extras, though the studio once again undermines the latter features by not even bothering to mention them on the packaging. There is an interview with Christopher Nolan, who discusses the influence of noir films on his own work. There is also a feature length commentary track hosted by Eddie Muller of Turner Classic Movies and The Film Noir Foundation and bestselling crime novelist James Ellroy, whose work includes L.A. Confidential. Muller is extremely informative, conveying fascinating information about the film and the San Francisco locations. However, Ellroy, who describes himself as "The White Knight of the Far Right" wears out his welcome pretty quickly. His efforts to come across as politically incorrect become blatantly pretentious, as he peppers his comments with expletives and makes homophobic jokes with regularity. Even Muller seems a bit taken off balance by him. Nevertheless, Sony deserves kudos for allowing Ellroy's controversial commentaries to remain intact. If you can put up with Ellroy, you'll get some great insights into the film and Siegel's methods of working. 

The Lineup is American film noir at its best. 

(This DVD is "all region", meaning it will play on any international system). 

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Anna May Wong has been commemorated with a three-film box set from Kino Lorber. Wong was a popular presence on the silver screen in an era in which most Asian screen characters were played by non-Asians. Here is the breakdown of information about the the Blu-ray set that coincidentally features Anthony Quinn in all three movies.

This collection features three Hollywood classics from the 1930s starring screen icon Anna May Wong.

DANGEROUS TO KNOW (1938)

Screen legend Anna May Wong (Picadilly) reprises her acclaimed Broadway role in this romantic crime drama from the pen of Edgar Wallace (Chamber of Horrors). Racketeer Steve Recka (Akim Tamiroff, The General Died at Dawn) rules his town and the sultry, silk-gowned Madam Lan Ying (Wong) with an iron hand. But when he falls for the enchanting Margaret Van Kase (Gail Patrick, Death Takes a Holiday), a socialite not impressed by his power nor his wealth, he makes frantic efforts to win her and turns his back on the loyal Lan Ying. Dangerous to Know comes elegantly directed by Robert Florey (The Crooked Way) with the sparkling supporting cast of Lloyd Nolan (Portrait in Black), Harvey Stephens (The Cheat), Roscoe Karns (Night After Night), Porter Hall (Murder, He Says), Hedda Hopper (Little Man, What Now?), Ellen Drew (If I Were King) and Anthony Quinn (The Ghost Breakers).

ISLAND OF LOST MEN (1939) – Screen legend Anna May Wong (Daughter of Shanghai) clashes with J. Carrol Naish (Sahara) in this rousing remake of 1933’s Carole Lombard/Charles Laughton starrer White Woman. Cabaret singer Kim Ling (Wong), the daughter of a Chinese general who has been accused of absconding with government funds, arrives in the Straits Settlements. There she meets Gregory Prin (Naish), a half-caste gunrunner and head of a jungle empire where he treats the Malaysians ruthlessly. She agrees to accompany him in search of her father, as she has several reasons to believe Prin is responsible for the general’s disappearance. Directed by Kurt Neumann (The Secret of the Blue Room, The Fly) and co-starring Anthony Quinn (Road to Singapore), Eric Blore (Road to Zanzibar), Broderick Crawford (Seven Sinners) and Ernest Truex (His Girl Friday), Island of Lost Men is a torrid mix of thrills, mystery and adventure.

KING OF CHINATOWN (1939) – Screen legend Anna May Wong (Shanghai Express) co-stars with the “czar of a city of sin,” Akim Tamiroff (Desire), in the ripping crime yarn King of Chinatown. Violence and death stalk the Chinese faction of a big American city, but one man, Dr. Chang Ling (Sidney Toler, Shadows Over Chinatown), and his daughter, Dr. Mary Ling (Wong), defy the gangsters who are responsible, and, against terrific odds, bring peace to their oppressed neighbors. Wong gives a powerful and pioneering performance as a respected surgeon faced with a shocking moral dilemma. Directed by Nick Grinde (Million Dollar Legs), shot by Leo Tover (The Day the Earth Stood Still) and featuring J. Carrol Naish (Beau Geste), Philip Ahn (China), Anthony Quinn (The Last Train from Madrid), Bernadene Hayes (Dick Tracy’s Dilemma) and Roscoe Karns (It Happened One Night).

Product Extras :
Brand New 4K and 2K Masters
NEW Audio Commentary for DANGEROUS TO KNOW by Film Historian Samm Deighan
NEW Audio Commentary for ISLAND OF LOST MEN by Entertainment Journalist/Author Bryan Reesman and Max Evry
NEW Audio Commentary for KING OF CHINATOWN by Film Historian David Del Valle and Archivist/Film Historian Stan Shaffer
King of Chinatown Theatrical Trailer (Nitrate Restoration in 4K)

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Retro-Active: From the Cinema Retro Archives

By Lee Pfeiffer

For those of us who are hopelessly addicted to spy movies of the 1960s, the Warner Archive provides a gift: the first DVD release of "The Scorpio Letters", one of the more obscure 007-inspired espionage films of the era. Produced by MGM, the movie was shown on American TV in early 1967 before enjoying a theatrical release in Europe. It seems the studio was trying to emulate the strategy that it was employing at the time for its phenomenally popular "Man From U.N.C.L.E." TV series. That show had proven to be such a hit with international audiences that MGM strung together two-part episodes and released them theatrically. (Three films were released in America but a total of eight were shown in international markets.) As "The Scorpio Letters" was produced with a theatrical run in mind, it has a bit more gloss than the average TV movie, which was then a genre in its infancy. Nevertheless, it still has all the earmarks of a production with a limited budget. Although set in London and France, you'd have to be pretty naive to believe any of the cast and crew ever got out of southern California. Grainy stock footage is used to simulate those locations and there is ample use of the very distinctive MGM back lot, which at times makes the film resemble an episode of "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." What the movie does provide is some nice chemistry between its two lead actors, Alex Cord, who had recently acquitted himself quite well in the underrated 1966 big screen remake of John Ford's "Stagecoach" and Shirley Eaton, then still riding the wave of popularity she enjoyed as the iconic "golden girl" from the Bond blockbuster "Goldfinger". The two play rival spies in London, both working for different British intelligence agencies, though whether it is MI5 or MI6 is never made clear. 

The film is based on a novel by Victor Caning that had been adapted for the screen by the ironically named Adrian Spies, who had a long career working primarily in television. (Curiously, his one credited feature film was for the superb 1968 adventure "Dark of the Sun" (aka "The Mercenaries".) There is nothing remarkable about his work on "The Scorpio Letters". In fact, Spies provides a rather confusing plot. The film opens on a jarring note with a man taking a suicidal plunge from his apartment window in London. Turns out he was a British intelligence agent and the reasons for his suicide are of great interest to the higher ups in the spy business. Alex Cord plays Joe Christopher, an American ex-cop who now does work for one of the intelligence agencies run by Burr (the ever-reliable Laurence Naismith). Burr orders him to get to the bottom of the suicide case and in doing so, Joe gains access to the dead man's apartment just in time to encounter a mysterious man stealing a letter addressed to the dead agent. A foot chase ensues that ends with both men getting struck by a London double decker bus (yes, MGM had one of those laying around the back lot.) Still, Joe manages to steal back the letter the man had swiped and finds it is obviously a blackmail attempt made against the dead agent by a mystery person who goes by the name of Scorpio. From there the plot gets rather confusing and becomes one of those thrillers that is best enjoyed if you stop trying to figure out who is who and just sit back and enjoy the ride. Joe flirts with Phoebe Stewart (Shirley Eaton), who works in another intelligence agency. It appears her boss and Joe's boss are constantly trying to undermine each other in the attempt to solve major cases. Phoebe makes an attempt to seduce Joe, but he correctly suspects that she is trying to compromise him for information he knows about the case. Inevitably, a real romance blossoms but the love scenes are pretty mild, perhaps due to the fact that this film was made with a television broadcast in mind. (The plot invokes the old joke of having the would-be lovers get interrupted every time they attempt to get it on.)  

Joe gets a lead that takes him to Paris where he discovers that Scorpio is the man behind a shadowy spy network that uses agents employed as waiters in an upscale restaurant. I imagine the reason for this is explained somewhere along the line but it's just one more confusing element to the script. Joe infiltrates the spies/waiters gang in the hopes of finding out who Scorpio is. Meanwhile, in the film's best scene, he is exposed, captured and tortured. There is even a modicum of suspense as there appears to be no logical way he will get out of this particular death trap. Refreshingly, Joe is no 007. He makes miscalculations, gets bruised and beaten and often has to rely on the intervention of others to save him. (In the film's climax, finding himself outmanned and outgunned, he actually does the logical thing and asks someone to call the local police for help.) Ultimately, Scorpio is revealed to be one of those standard, aristocratic spy villains of Sixties cinema. In this case he is played by the very able Oscar Beregi Jr. If you don't know the name, you'll know his face, as he excelled in playing urbane bad guys in countless TV shows and feature films of the era. There are numerous kidnappings, shootouts, double crosses and red herrings and one bizarre sequence that is ostensibly set in a French ski resort in which the ski lift is inexplicably in operation even though it's summer. Additionally, the California mountains look as much like France as Jersey City does.

Despite all of the gripes, I enjoyed watching "The Scorpio Letters". It's an entertaining, fast-moving diversion, directed with unremarkable efficiency by Richard Thorpe (his second-to-last film). Cord makes for a very capable leading man, tossing off the requisite wisecracks even while undergoing torture. Eaton possesses the kind of old world glamour you rarely see on screen nowadays. Together, they make an otherwise mediocre movie play out better than it probably should. (A minor trivia note: this represents the first film score of composer Dave Grusin, who would go on to become an Oscar winner.)

The Warner Archive DVD transfer is very impressive and the film contains an original trailer, which presumably was used in non-U.S. markets.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Raquel Welch, the actress who took the international film industry by storm with her appearance in the 1966 remake of the fantasy film "One Million Years B.C.", has passed away after a brief illness. Welch was one of the last of the so-called "Glamour Girls" of this period; actresses who were chosen primarily for their looks and measurements as opposed to their acting abilities. But Welch defied the odds and didn't prove to be a flash-in-the-pan in terms of popularity. She was one of the last of the big studio contract players- in this case 20th-Century-Fox, which meant she could only make films for another studio if Fox approved. She had little say over the films she appeared in during this period and she would later look back on them with disdain. However, retro movie fans would be largely defensive of many of these films, as they cast her opposite popular leading men of the period as Frank Sinatra, Ernest Borgnine, Stephen Boyd, Jim Brown, Burt Reynolds, Robert Wagner, Edward G. Robinson, James Stewart and Dean Martin. Among her best films of this era were "100 Rifles", "Fantastic Voyage", "Bandolero!", "The Biggest Bundle of them All" and "Lady in Cement".  Some were duds, such as the misguided thriller "Flareup" and the disastrous sex comedy "Myra Breckinridge". She became an instant pop culture icon due to the famous photo of her as a cavegirl sporting a fur bikini in "One Million Years B.C." Teenage boys around the world had the resulting poster adorning their bedroom walls. In the early 1970s, she played vengeance-driven female gunslinger in the Western "Hannie Caulder", a victim of Richard Burton's lady killer in "Bluebeard", a roller derby queen in "Kansas City Bomber" and a member of the all-star cast in the murder mystery "The Last of Sheila". By the mid-190's, she played a comedic co-starring role in the big budget version of "The Three Musketeers" and its sequel "The Four Musketeers". Critics finally acknowledged that she could act and should be judged by her talent and not her image as a voluptuous  sex symbol.

 

When the prime big screen roles began to vanish, Welch suspected it may have been due to her suing MGM over age discrimination when she was fired as the leading lady in the film "Cannery Row" and replaced by Debra Winger. The studio countered that Welch had acted unprofessionally on the set. She won the case and $10 million in damages but it seemed to make studios reluctant to hire her again. Nevertheless, she successfully reinvented herself with live shows on stage including an acclaimed leading role in the Broadway production of "Victor/Victoria". She also scored with a funny self-deprecating appearance as herself in "Seinfeld" in which she was presented as an obnoxious, hot-tempered diva.

Welch kept a low profile in recent years and was rarely seen in public. She was married four times and is survived by a son and daughter. Despite her sex symbol image, she was always proud that she never gave in to offers to appear nude on screen or in print. She was the one who got away, said a disappointed Hugh Hefner who couldn't use influence or money to lure her to the pages of Playboy.

For more on her life and career, click here.

By Lee Pfeiffer

Burt Bacharach, one of the most prolific musical talents in the modern history of the art form, has died from natural causes at age 94. Bacharach was a rare artist who was honored with Grammy, Oscar and Tony awards. His list of pop hits crossed the charts from easy listening to becoming major hits on rock radio stations. He had long and fruitful collaborations with lyricist Hal David and singer Dionne Warwick, who had some of the biggest hits of her career singing Bacharach songs. He had long feuds with both artists but would eventually reconcile with them. Movie buffs are well-acquainted with Bacharach's contributions to the music of the film industry beginning with his campy but beloved theme song "Beware of the Blob" for the 1958 early Steve McQueen sci-fi film. He wouldn't dwell in the "B" movie realm for long, however. He wrote the hit title theme for "What's New Pussycat"?, a major early career success for Tom Jones. He also wrote the classic title theme for "Alfie", which was sung in the film by Cher. However, both Dionne Warwick and Cilla Black would have hit cover versions of the song. Bacharach won two Oscars for the 1969 film "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" for both the musical composition and for the classic song "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head". He would also win a Best Song Oscar for "The Best That You Can Do",  the theme from the 1980s comedy "Arthur". Bacharach also composed "The Look of Love", one of the most recorded romantic songs of all time. The song appeared, perhaps improbably, in the madcap 1967 big screen spoof version of the first James Bond novel "Casino Royale". It was nominated for an Oscar, as well. The song inspired Mike Myers to create the Austin Powers character and films, which were heavily influenced by "Casino Royale". Bacharach did suffer a major career disappointment when he wrote the score for the ill-fated 1973 musical remake of "Lost Horizon", the failure of which was said to send him into a prolonged funk.

Bacharach was good to his word that he would never retire and continued to work almost to the end of his life, writing new songs and even performing with Elvis Costello and Dr. Dre, an indication of the timelessness and wide popularity of his work. For more about his life, click here.

By Lee Pfeiffer

Michael Winner emerged as a promising young director/screenwriter/film editor in the early 1960s and his career gained momentum when the mod movement of the mid-Sixties made London the go-to place for everything and everyone who was hip. Winner fit into that category very neatly. He was wealthy, charismatic, talented and very much a key member of the city's thriving social scene. He made offbeat comedies that appealed to young audiences such as "The Jokers" and "I'll Never Forget What'sis Name". Soon he was making big studio films and was accorded substantial budgets to do so. He was quite diverse in his subject matter. "Hannibal Brooks" was a WWII comedy, "The Games" a drama set at the Olympic, "The Nightcomers", an ambitious prequel to Henry James's classic ghost story "The Turn of the Screw". He made good Westerns such as "Lawman" and "Chato's Land" and his numerous collaborations with Charles Bronson were crucial in finally elevating Bronson to major star status after being regarded as a reliable character actor for many years. Winner's biggest hit starred Bronson: the 1974 urban  thriller "Death Wish" that perfectly reflected the real-life paranoia of America's soaring crime rate. The film was provocative and controversial, much to Winner's delight, and it made a ton of money. But soon after, Winner's fortunes in cinema began to decline. He seemed to have backward momentum and most of his films were poorly received by critics and audiences, even though occasionally a few proved to be underrated including his 1978 remake of "The Big Sleep" that was fittingly as confusing as the classic original.

One of Winner's least-remembered films from this era is "Firepower", released in 1979, which starred James Coburn and Sophia Loren. Like most of Winner's recent movies, it didn't light any fires at the boxoffice, but it has an impressive cast and production values that elevate the film above the embarrassing "Death Wish" sequels Winner would later preside over that gave him a resurgence of relevance. The film literally opens with a bang when a scientist opens a letter bomb and is blown to smithereens. He's the husband of Adele Tasca (Sophia Loren), who suspects the assassination was orchestrated by her husband's employer, the mysterious billionaire Karl Stegner, because he had discovered that Stegner was distributing a drug that could result in patients contracting cancer. Stegner is also wanted by the U.S. government for high-end criminal activities. There's one major problem: Stegner maintains a Howard Hughes-like lifestyle and no one even knows what he looks like. FBI agent Frank Mancuso (Vincent Gardenia) leans on crime figure Sal Hyman (Eli Wallach) to use his connections to locate Stegner in return for having pending criminal charges against him dropped. Hyman, in turn, reaches out to another man of mystery, Jerry Fannon (James Coburn), to get the job done in return for an eye-popping fee. Fannon is the ultimate Mr. Fix-It, having pulled off seemingly impossible tasks for other shady characters. Fannon enlists his trusted right-hand man, Catlett (O.J. Simpson) for the assignment and the two set off to the island of Curacao in the Caribbean, where he has learned Stegner is residing in a seaside mansion protected by an army of bodyguards who report to his top assistant, Leo Gelhorn (George Grizzard, successfully cast against type in an action role.)

Things get complicated when Adele arrives on the scene, ostensibly to find a way to expose and kill Stegner herself. But Fannon soon sees she might actually be in league with her husband's murderer. As with scenarios of this type, Fannon is welcomed into Stegner's hacienda by his prey. In this case, Stegner remains unseen but Fannon is afforded some courtesies by Gelhorn and Stegner's personal physician, Dr. Felix (Tony Franciosa). The Bond-like scenario finds heroes and villains exchanging witticisms and veiled threats very politely over drinks in a luxurious environment. Of course, the detente doesn't last long and the action becomes frequent and explosive. There's a goofy and thankfully brief subplot that finds Coburn face-to-face with his exact double, who he employs as part of his strategy but the screenplay by frequent Michael Winner collaborator Gerald Wilson affords some unexpected plot twists and genuine surprises and Winner handles the action scenes very well indeed, even if they not very original. For example, Coburn employs a bulldozer to demolish a house, which is fun to watch, but Robert Mitchum had already performed the same feat on screen a couple of years before in more spectacular fashion in "The Amsterdam Kill". The gorgeous Caribbean locations add a degree of luster to the production. The cast comes through, with Coburn especially fun to watch. Loren, who was paid $1 million to appear in the film, looks sensational but the role is somewhat underwritten and the inevitable romantic moments between Coburn and Loren's characters are rather dull and perfunctory. Eli Wallach and Vincent Gardenia are relegated to extended cameo roles and the film ends with a strange but welcome brief appearance by Victor Mature that is played for laughs.I should also mention the impressive stunt work performed by Terry Leonard and his crew.

(Warning: the video below contains spoilers!)

"Firepower" was produced by Sir Lew Grade, who originally had Charles Bronson agree to star in the film. At the last minute, Bronson pulled out and Grade considered canceling the production. However, he had already sunk a good deal of money into the project and signed James Coburn as the lead. Coburn would later recall,  "I did it for the money, the locations (the Caribbean islands) and to work with Sophia Loren. The director was Michael Winner. He’s probably one of the weirdest guys I’ve ever met. Yet, I thought he was a good guy when I first met him. But when he got on the set, he was almost like a total dictator. I found it hard to work for that way. The most fun I had was when I got to drive a bulldozer through a house in the islands." For all the effort, the film was greeted with negative reviews and a weak boxoffice take. The movie is available on Blu-ray as a collaboration between Kino Lorber and Scorpion Releasing. The transfer looks great and the disc includes the original trailer.

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By Doug Oswald

Audie Murphy plays himself in “To Hell and Back,” available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber. When I was a kid, the name Audie Murphy was very familiar to me and my friends as the most decorated American soldier of WWII. And if that wasn’t enough to make me an Audie Murphy fan, he was also the star of countless movie westerns which I watched on repeat airings on TV. When “To Hell and Back” made the rounds on TV, all other activities stopped so we could watch his Medal of Honor exploits on the small screen, and then replay them in our minds in the weeks that followed. We imagined killing Nazis on our way to and from grade school. Thoughts and countless discussions about driving Jeeps with mounted .50 caliber machine guns, jumping sand dunes ala “The Rat Patrol,” and driving half-tracks and Sherman tanks while firing rounds on the enemy.

The film, which was released in 1955, opens with an introduction by retired four-star General Walter Bedell Smith setting the stage for meeting a young Audie at home in rural northeastern Texas in 1937. Born in 1925, he was part of a large family, abandoned by their father and left alone after their mother died, leaving his younger siblings in foster care. Murphy left school to work and help care for his family at the age of 12. His skills at hunting and using a gun would aid him during his military service. Underage after the attack on Pearl Harbor, his older sister helped falsify his records so he could enlist in the Army. After basic training at Ft. Lewis, Washington, Murphy shipped to North Africa, but he saw no action as the enemy had just surrendered. Murphy isn’t thought of too highly at this point in the story, by his peers or his commanding officers.

The story shifts to the invasion of Sicily followed by the invasion of Italy and then combat in France where Murphy distinguishes himself in battle and receives America’s highest military honor, the Medal of Honor. The movie moves along at a brisk pace but we never really get to know his buddies and the bonds they created, as the focus is oncus on the action set pieces and deaths of his friends. Murphy is promoted from private to platoon sergeant and then to a field commission to second lieutenant. The movie depicts the highlights from his real life exploits including when he singlehandedly takes on an army of advancing German soldiers by firing the machine gun on a burning Sherman tank and halting the German advance, thereby saving the lives of many Americans. Murphy was severely wounded and suffered the rest of his life from what is now commonly known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Murphy is credited with killing an estimated 240 German soldiers and wounding and capturing far more. It’s almost too much to expect so much can be told in a movie with a running time of 106 minutes.

Murphy released his autobiography, “To Hell and Back,” in 1949 which became the basis for this film. Murphy declined the offer to attend the Military Academy at West Point, but remained an Army Reserve officer and served in the Texas National Guard, retiring with the rank of Major. Murphy did accept the call to Hollywood, along with fame, fortune and a gambling addiction. His successful movie career began in 1948, mostly in Westerns, ending in 1969 after featuring in 44 movies. He also starred in a troubled 1961 TV series “Whispering Smith” which some deemed too violent for television. Murphy died in a plane crash on 28 May 1971. He’s buried in Arlington National Cemetery and his grave is the second most visited after President John F. Kennedy.

“To Hell and Back” was a Universal production filmed at Universal Studios and on location in California in widescreen CinemaScope. It’s a pity the production didn’t do actual location filming in Italy and France, but this was uncommon at the time. The movie was directed by Jesse Hibbs with a screenplay by Gil Dovel based on Murphy’s best selling biography of the same name. Music was supervised Joseph Gershenson making use of common Army songs and an otherwise sparse score. It would be great if Hollywood saw fit to remake this story. The movie became a huge hit and was Universal’s most successful film until the release of “Jaws” in 1975.

The disc features an entertaining audio commentary by Steve Mitchell and Steven Jay Rubin. It’s worth watching the movie twice, the second time with the commentary track which is like hanging out with a couple of buddies sharing anecdotes and facts about the film. Their audio commentaries are always insightful and entertaining and this one contributes greatly to this Blu-ray release which is a worthy upgrade from previous DVD versions released over the years. The other extras are the trailer for this and other Kino Lorber titles. I highly recommend this disc for Audie Murphy fans and fans of military movies.

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By Todd Garbarini

I did not see William Friedkin’s version of Reginald Rose’s 12 Angry Men when it premiered on Sunday, August 17, 1997 on Showtime, although I wish that I had as it would not have seemed as dated as it does today. Like many other fine dramas, 12 Angry Men originated as a 1954 teleplay for Studio One and starred Norman Fell and Robert Cummings. The following year it was staged as a play and finally directed as a film by Sidney Lumet in 1957 in arguably its finest incarnation starring Henry Fonda as the lone juror out to debate the fate of a teenager who may have killed his father in a moment of rage. That star-studded interpretation bolsters excellent camera work and highly lauded acting and makes for gripping cinema as Mr. Fonda attempts to get eleven other jurors to reconsider their positions on whether the teen should be convicted of murder and potentially face capital punishment, or if he should be acquitted should there be reasonable doubt of his guilt. Forty years later, the most obvious changes are in the casting. This time around, the judge is a female (Mary McDonnell) and the jurors, unlike in Mr. Lumet’s version, are not all white. Several of them are African-American and they come to blows with each other at times. Jack Lemmon, who I loved as Shelley “The Machine” Levine in Glengarry Glen Ross (1992), is Juror #8 who decides to stand against the mob mentality that is comprised of Courtney B. Vance who I first saw in Fences on Broadway in 1988; Ossie Davis who was wonderful in Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing (1989) as Da Mayor; George C. Scott who I loved in Patton (1970) and The Changeling (1979); Armin Mueller-Stahl who played the Nazi guard/grandfather in Music Box (1989); Dorian Harewood who played Eight-Ball in Full Metal Jacket (1987); James Gandolfini who appears to be auditioning his Tony Soprano accent; Tony Danza (yes, that Tony Danza!) who is amusing as the juror itching to get to a ball game; Hume Cronyn who was brilliant in The Gin Game (1981); Mikelti Williamson who I loved as Al Pacino’s sidekick in Heat (1995); Edward James Olmos who was creepy as Gaff in Blade Runner (1982); and William Petersen who was never better than when he played Rick Chance in To Live and Die in L.A. (1985).

For those who have seen the 1957 film, everything from the film’s opening to the poignant denouement are identical, so there are no surprise twists or changes. This version is nearly a scene-for-scene remake, and it is shot on video rather than film. The scenery is such that it replicates the deliberation room and gives the feeling of the audience watching a play up close and personal. For a remake, I would have thought that forty years hence would have made some considerable alterations in the way the jurors speak to one another. Aside from the inclusion of a few expletives to demonstrate the easing of social conventions that have, incredibly, branded the film with a PG-13 rating, the teleplay sticks almost verbatim to the 1957 film while managing to pad out the running time to 117 minutes, a full 21 minutes longer than Mr. Lumet’s version. Even 1976’s All the Preseident’s Men with its multiple F-bombs, dropped however casually, managed a PG-rating. The opportunity to update the story with discussions of murder and justice, especially coming on the heels of the explosion and proliferation of televised court proceedings and crime-based television shows, the Rodney King beatings, race relations and the burning of Los Angeles in 1992, and the O.J. Simpson trial, is all there for the taking but is blatantly and noticeably eschewed. The lack of cell phones and the absence of the then-six-year-old World Wide Web is also jarring as they were becoming prevalent at the time of filming.

12 Angry Men is now available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber and is the most bare-bones release that I have seen from them. The disc’s sole extra is the requisite trailer, this one for the VHS release of the film. Mr. Friedkin has provided some terrific commentaries in the past, most notably on The French Connection (1971), The Exorcist (1973), and the aforementioned To Live and Die in L.A., and I would have loved to have heard his thoughts on this release as he is such an entertaining and informative speaker.

The viewer has the choice of watching the film in either 1.33:1, which is the original analog television aspect ratio, or 1.78:1 for anamorphically enhanced high definition televisions.

It has been twenty-five years since this version originally aired, and we are in desperate need of 12 Angry Jurors comprised of men and women from diverse ethnic backgrounds with the inclusion of examples of and discussions regarding forensic science, computers, and DNA. The story needs relevance and a much-needed facelift so that a fitting update is truly possible.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

The Deadline web site reports that Bradley Cooper and Steven Spielberg will collaborate to bring the character of San Francisco maverick detective Frank Bullitt back to the big screen. Cooper will star as the character immortalized by Steve McQueen in the 1968 blockbuster. The film will not be a remake but, rather, a new crime thriller with Bullitt as the central character. The original film was made for McQueen's Solar Productions and his son and granddaughter will serve as Executive Producers of the movie, which remains known primarily for its groundbreaking car chase scene. The film was also a major critical success. It won an Oscar for Frank P. Keller's editing and was nominated for Best Sound. It was also nominated for five BAFTA awards including Best Director for Peter Yates and Best Supporting Actor for Robert Vaughn, who played an ambitious District Attorney at odds with McQueen.

For more, click here.

By Lee Pfeiffer

In the mid 1960s Amicus Productions emerged as a Hammer Films wanna-be. The studio aped the Hammer horror films and even occasionally encroached on Hammer by "stealing" their two biggest stars, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. The first Amicus hit was "Dr. Terror's House of Horrors", released in 1965 and top-lining Lee and Cushing. The format of various horror tales linked by an anthology format proved to be so successful that Amicus would repeat the formula over the next decade in films such as "Tales from the Crypt", "Vault of Horror" and "The House That Dripped Blood". The studio cranked out plenty of other horror flicks and by the mid-to-late 1970s Amicus was producing better fare than Hammer, which had made the mistake of increasingly concentrating on blood and gore and tits and ass to the detriment of the overall productions. Occasionally-indeed, very rarely- Amicus would branch out from the horror genre and produce other fare. (i.e. the Bond-inspired "Danger Route" and the social drama "Thank You All Very Much") but the studio was out of its element when it came to producing non-horror flicks.  A particularly inspired offbeat entry in the Amicus canon was the 1970 production "The Mind of Mr. Soames", based on a novel by Charles Eric Maine. The intriguing premise finds John Soames (Terence Stamp) a 30 year-old man who has been in a coma since birth. He has been studiously tended to by the staff at a medical institution in the British countryside where a round-the-clock team sees to it that he is properly nourished and that his limbs are exercised to prevent atrophy. Soames apparently is an orphan with no living relatives so he is in complete custody of the medical community, which realizes he represents a potentially important opportunity for scientific study- if he can be awakened. That possibility comes to pass when an American, Dr. Bergen (Robert Vaughn) arrives at the clinic possessing what he feels is a successful method of performing an operation that will bring Soames "to life". The operation is surprisingly simple and bares fruit when, hours later, Soames begins to open his eyes and make sounds.The staff realize this is a medical first: Soames will come into the world as a grown man but with the mind and instincts of a baby. 

Soames' primary care in the post-operation period is left to Dr. Maitland (Nigel Davenport), who has constructed a rigid schedule to advance Soames' intellect and maturity as quickly as possible. Initially, Maitland's plans pay off and Soames responds favorably to the new world he is discovering. However, over time, as his intellect reaches that of a small child, he begins to harbor resentment towards Maitland for his "all stick and no carrot" approach to learning. Dr. Bergen tries to impress on Maitland the importance of allowing Soames to have some levity in his life and the opportunity to learn at his own pace. Ultimately, Bergen allows Soames outside to enjoy the fresh air and observe nature first hand on the clinic's lush grounds.  Soames is ecstatic but his joy is short-lived when an outraged Dr. Maitland has him forcibly taken back into the institute. Soames ultimately rebels and makes a violent escape into a world he is ill-equipped to understand. He has the maturity and knowledge of a five or six year old boy but knows that he prefers freedom to incarceration. As a massive manhunt for Soames goes into overdrive, the film traces his abilities to elude his pursuers as he manages to travel considerable distance with the help of well-intentioned strangers who don't realize who he is. Soames is ultimately struck by a car driven by a couple on a remote country road. Because the lout of a husband was drunk at the time, they choose to nurse him back to health in their own home. The wife soon realizes who he is and takes pity on him- but when Soames hear's approaching police cars he bolts, thus setting in motion a suspenseful and emotionally wrenching climax.

"The Mind of Mr. Soames" is unlike any other Amicus feature. It isn't a horror film nor a science fiction story and the plot device of a man having been in a coma for his entire life is presented as a totally viable medical possibility. Although there are moments of tension and suspense, this is basically a mature, psychological drama thanks to the intelligent screenplay John Hale and Edward Simpson and the equally impressive, low-key direction of Alan Cooke, who refrains from overplaying the more sensational aspects of the story. Stamp is outstanding in what may have been the most challenging role of his career and he receives excellent support from Robert Vaughn (sporting the beard he grew for his next film, the remake of "Julius Caesar") and Nigel Davenport. Refreshingly, there are no villains in the film. Both doctors have vastly different theories and approaches to treating Soames but they both want what is best for him. The only unsympathetic character is a hipster TV producer and host played by Christian Roberts who seeks to exploit the situation by filming and telecasting Soames' progress as though it were a daily soap opera.

Amicus had a potential winner with this movie but it punted when it came to the advertising campaign by implying it was a horror film. "The mind of a baby, the strength of a madman!" shouted the trailers and the print ads screamed "CAN THIS BABY KILL?" alongside an absurd image of  Stamp locked inside an infant's crib. In fact, Soames does pose a danger to others and himself simply because he doesn't realize the implications of his own strength- but he is presented sympathetically in much the same way as the monster in the original "Frankenstein".  Perhaps because of the botched marketing campaign, the film came and went quickly. In some major U.S. cities it was relegated to a few art houses before it disappeared. In fact the art house circuit was where it belonged but the ad campaign isolated upper crust viewers who favored films by Bergman and Fellini but balked when the saw the over-the-top elements of the ads.

"The Mind of Mr. Soames" is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.

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By Todd Garbarini

The summer of 1978 was one of the best summers that I can recall from childhood. My grandmother took my sister and I to see Heaven Can Wait, Warren Beatty's remake of 1941’s Here Comes Mr. Jordan. I immediately took to Mr. Beatty’s interpretation of Joe Pendleton, despite not being an avid fan of football. Two years later I was introduced to Jack Nicholson's work when, in July 1980, I saw a broadcast of Mike Nichols’ 1975 film The Fortune on ABC-TV in which he co-starred with Mr. Beatty, along with Stockard Channing. It was not a particularly memorable film, but I enjoyed both of them in their respective roles.

In the winter of 1981, Paramount Pictures released Reds, a three-and-one-quarter hour long drama that Mr. Beatty wrote, produced, and directed. I had seen the ads for the film and while traveling to and from New York City with my Boy Scout troop to broaden our horizons of the world of art by visiting the Museum of Modern Art. We spent a significant amount of time in New York's Pennsylvania train station awaiting our journey home, which was an education in and of itself. Aside from the cross-dressers and drug addicts, there was a video playback system positioned near the rear of the terminal. This advertising mechanism the name of which completely escapes me, was sponsored by Paramount Pictures. It ran movie trailers on ¾” U-matic videotape for several films released by the studio. One of them was Raiders of the Lost Ark, my favorite film of that year, and another one was Reds. I never had the opportunity to see Reds theatrically, and my parents correctly figured that the film would have gone way over my head. The prospect of sitting in a theater for nearly three-and-a-half hours did not sit well with them, understandably so. Movie theater seats in those days were simply not comfortable. I did not catch up with Reds until many years later, but the film has finally found its way restored on Blu-ray for its 40^th anniversary. I’m finally getting around to review it.

If there is anything that can be said about this film, Reds is about many things. It is a love story, it is an ambitious work, it is the brainchild of a man who managed to pull off an extraordinary feat of filmmaking, and it is arguably the last of the big-budgeted sprawling epics of the time, following Michael Cimino’s failed Heaven’s Gate from the previous year. While I am not completely understanding of the ideologies in the politics involved, I can safely say that Reds is probably not the sort of film that would be green-lit today, as the climate of filmmaking now is completely different than it was four decades ago.

Reds opened on Friday, December 4, 1981 nationwide, however the story it depicts begins sixty-six years earlier in 1915 when Louise Bryant, expertly portrayed by Diane Keaton who had already appeared in The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974) and played opposite Woody Allen in six films, meets fellow journalist John Reed (Warren Beatty) at a Portland, Oregon lecture. She interviews him in an hours-long session that compels her to leave her stuffy husband (Nicolas Coster) and move with Reed to Greenwich Village in New York City where she is introduced to anarchist and author Emma Goldman (Maureen Stapleton, who won an Oscar for her performance) and Eugene O’Neill (Jack Nicholson), the playwright.

Following a move to Provincetown, Massachusetts, Bryant and Reed find themselves involved in the local theater scene. Bryant has realized that her writing is what makes her truly happy, and her ideologies begin to align with Reed’s, who is now involved in labor strikes with the Communist Labor Party of America. These people are called “Reds,” hence the film’s title. While Reed is off covering the 1916 Democratic National Convention in Missouri, Bryant becomes romantically involved with O’Neill, the truth of which comes to Reed’s attention when he returns to Massachusetts and finds a letter O’Neill wrote Bryant inside the pages of a book. Despite this, he still loves Bryant and after marrying, they move to upstate New York. However, a fight ensues when evidence of his own affairs comes to light, which causes Bryant to take a position of war correspondent in Europe, a role that Reed also follows despite his doctor’s admonitions to slow down. The Russian Revolution commences, and Bryant and Reed are reunited.

Following an intermission (possibly the last major American film to feature one, not counting Serio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America in 1984), Reed publishes his famous Ten Days That Shook the World and becomes inebriated on the ideals perpetuated by the Revolution and does his best to introduce the United States to the political theory of Communism, the antithesis of the beliefs espoused by Grigory Zinoviev (Jerzy Kosinski) and the Bolsheviks. Unfortunately, the effects of typhus catch up with him following a prison stint in Finland. The film’s most celebrated sequence is Reed’s return to Moscow and his reunion with Bryant at a train station. His demise occurs shortly thereafter, while Bryant can only look on, helplessly.

The supporting cast is excellent and the transfer on this Blu-ray is beautiful. Cinematographer Vittorio Storaro added this film to his Oscar collection following his win for his work on Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979). He would later win again for Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor (1987), although not having even been nominated for his stunning work on Signor Bertolucci’s The Conformist (1970), Last Tango in Paris (1972) or Luna (1979) makes one scratch their head in disbelief.

Reds was a boxoffice bomb despite the fact that the film was nominated for Best Picture and Beatty was named Best Director. Beatty’s sentimental look at a man who espoused Communism was ill-timed for the beginning of the Reagan era.

There is a second Blu-ray added which consists of the same extras that accompanied the 25^th anniversary DVD edition:

Witness To Reds:

The Rising (SD, 6:29)

Comrades (SD, 13:30)

Testimonials (SD, 11:58)

The March (SD, 9:07)

Revolution, Part 1 (SD, 10:18)

Revolution, Part 2 (SD, 6:55)

Propaganda (SD, 9:11)

The story of the making of this film and Paramount Pictures’ (which was owned by Gulf and Western at the time) willingness to make it is a fascinating one. While the film looks beautiful, I would have loved a running commentary from the major performers giving their insights and memories of the making of the film. A missed opportunity to be sure, but the film alone is enough to warrant the purchase.

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REVIEW: HERZOG'S "NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE" (1979) ON BLU-RAY FROM SHOUT! FACTORY

REVIEW: “THE CAPER OF THE GOLDEN BULLS” (1967) STARRING STEPHEN BOYD, YVETTE MIMIEUX AND GIOVANNA RALLI; KINO LORBER BLU-RAY

REVIEW: “IN GOD WE TRUST” (1980), STARRING MARTY FELDMAN, ANDY KAUFFMAN, LOUISE LASSER; A KINO LORBER BLU-RAY RELEASE

REVIEW: "DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE" (1941) STARRING SPENCER TRACY, INGRID BERGMAN AND LANA TURNER; WARNER ARCHIVE BLU-RAY RELEASE

STREAMING REVIEW: "STILL OF THE NIGHT" (1982) STARRING ROY SCHEIDER AND MERYL STREEP (AMAZON PRIME)

REVIEW: "THE GHOST BREAKERS" (1940) STARRING BOB HOPE AND PAULETTE GODDARD; KINO LORBER BLU-RAY RELEASE

REVIEW: "HOUSE OF THE LONG SHADOWS" REGION B BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION FROM FABULOUS FILMS

REVIEW: "A STAR IS BORN" (1937) STARRING JANET GAYNOR AND FREDRIC MARCH; WARNER ARCHIVE BLU-RAY RELEASE

REVIEW: “MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE" (1946) STARRING BOB HOPE; KINO LORBER BLU-RAY RELEASE

REVIEW: "GAMBIT" (1966) STARRING SHIRLEY MACLAINE AND MICHAEL CAINE; KINO LORBER BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION

REVIEW: WES CRAVEN'S "SCREAM" (1996); PARAMOUNT 4K SPECIAL EDITION

REVIEW: "HEAVEN CAN WAIT" (1978) STARRING WARREN BEATTY; PARAMOUNT BLU-RAY RELEASE

BOOK REVIEW: "THE PATHS OF ZATOICHI: THE GLOBAL INFLUENCE OF THE BLIND SWORDSMAN" BY JONATHAN WROOT

REVIEW: "TRICK OR TREATS" (1982) STARRING DAVID CARRADINE, CARRIE SNODGRESS AND STEVE RAILSBACK; CODE RED BLU-RAY RELEASE

"STAGECOACH" (1966): WATCH THE ORIGINAL PRODUCTION FEATURETTE

REVIEW: GEORGE STEVENS' "A PLACE IN THE SUN" (1951) STARRING MONTGOMERY CLIFT AND ELIZABETH TAYLOR; PARMOUNT BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION

REVIEW: "DUNE" (1984) DIRECTED BY DAVID LYNCH; ARROW FILMS BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION

ACTOR ALEX CORD DEAD AT 88

REVIEW: HOWARD HAWKS' "SCARFACE" (1932) STARRING PAUL MUNI; BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION FROM IMPRINT

REVIEW: "MALONE" (1987) STARRING BURT REYNOLDS; BLU-RAY RELEASE FROM KINO LORBER

ACTOR CHARLES GRODIN DEAD AT 86

REVIEW: "MR. BLANDINGS BUILDS HIS DREAM HOUSE" (1948) STARRING CARY GRANT AND MYRNA LOY; WARNER ARCHIVE BLU-RAY RELEASE

REVIEW: "NIGHTMARE ALLEY" (1947) STARRING TYRONE POWER AND JOAN BLONDELL; CRITERION BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION

REVIEW: “NIGHT TRAIN TO MUNICH” (1940; Directed by Carol Reed) (The Criterion Collection)

DEFENDING THE 1996 VERSION OF "THE ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU"