BY HANK REINEKE

The cognoscenti will have no doubt noted this is the third home video resurrection of writer-director-co-producer Ted Newsom’s Flesh & Blood: The Hammer Heritage of Horror. Originally issued on VHS in 1999 as part of Anchor Bay’s ambitious and much welcomed “Hammer Collection” series, this affectionate documentary was subsequently ported over to DVD in 2004 by Image Entertainment, Inc. Both of those earlier releases shared a running time of some ninety-nine minutes. This comprehensive new version, curiously issued again on DVD rather than as an upgraded Blu, boasts of a “Digitally Remastered Expanded Director’s Cut.” This newest incarnation, as promised, has been expanded with an additional thirty-seven minutes of material. Whether or not the tighter original cut has been artistically or informatively superseded by this director’s cut is open to argument. While the new version is of more generous length, it must be said the story arc occasionally meanders, unnecessarily bloated by too-familiar footage culled from original trailers.

Regardless, this documentary is an essential item for fans of Hammer, thoughtfully outlining the studio’s metamorphosis from a small film distribution company to a vanguard of the British film industry. In the mid 1930s Hammer’s earliest successes were with such monochrome dramas as Songs of Freedom (with Paul Robeson) and mysteries as The Mystery of the Mary Celeste (with Bela Lugosi). Not surprisingly, it really wasn’t until after the country emerged from the rubble of WWII that the studio would hit a proper stride, adapting such popular British radio shows as Dick Baron: Special Agent as cinematic properties. But it wasn’t until the studio acquired the rights to bring Nigel Kneale’s popular science fiction BBC television series The Quatermass Experiment to the big screen in 1955 that Hammer’s course was set. The success of that film spawned a sequel and a knockoff which would signal what would follow. Beginning with The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), the studio would score with an influential and commercially successful string of science-fiction, fantasy and horror films. These successes cemented the studio’s reputation as Britain’s preeminent fright factory.

In that regard, Hammer had appropriated the mantle previously held by Universal Studios as the foremost purveyor of Gothic horror cinema. Though the studio was barred from utilizing Jack Pierce’s iconic make-up designs - as well as other Universal inventions protected by copyright – such public domain properties as Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein were free for an original and modern updating. If anything, the time was right for the torch of the angry villager to be passed on. Universal had all but abandoned their dependable stable of classic monsters, choosing instead to bring creatures of the atom-age to the screen. As Flesh & Blood astutely notes, Hammer would inadvertently rescue these monsters of folklore from the ignominy of their being mere slapstick foils to Abbott and Costello. With their distinctive trademark mix of splashy Technicolor, tawdry bloodletting, overt sexuality, and a battery of dreamy screen sirens (and unashamed displays of ample cleavage), the studio effectively reenergized interest in gothic-horror cinema.

To be sure, this is not an easy story to tell to satisfaction. Flesh & Blood bravely attempts to thoroughly document the sprawling history and trajectory of Hammer’s hits and misses, offering a score of first-person and genuinely interesting procession of candid talking-head interviews. The studio, as many of this film’s participants take great pains to point out here, was a business first and foremost. The producers were primarily interested in turning a tidy profit on their investment and productions were sometimes hobbled by miserly budgeting. Even in the studio’s halcyon days (1957-1972) most of the studio’s film projects – many pre-sold to distributors on little more than a colorful mock-up of an exploitative film poster – adhered to a tight six week shooting schedule.

As the principal photography of this documentary began as early as 1993, the pool of talent available for interview had not yet been thinned by time and age. In truth, there’s hardly a then-surviving veteran from behind or in front of Hammer’s cameras who isn’t interviewed or referenced in the film. In a particular masterstroke, the producers were able to enlist the studio’s two greatest and most iconic star players, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, to serve as principal narrators of the opus. It’s mostly Lee’s narration that carries the documentary forward, though the wasting, frail voice of a clearly ailing Peter Cushing also bravely serves in this capacity.

Skillfully interweaving interviews, home movies, trailers, vintage newsreels, stock footage, photographs, promotional materials, and elements sourced from television archives, we are introduced to the surviving men and woman who served as the studio’s primary movers and shakers. Those sharing behind-the camera memories are Michael Carreras, Anthony Hinds, Roy Ward Baker, Don Sharp, Freddie Francis, Aida Young, Jimmy Sangster, Richard Matheson, and composer James Bernard amongst others. Among those who appeared on the silver screen and were happy to share their insights and warm recollections are the bosomy starlets who were the epitomes of “Hammer Glamour:” Ingrid Pitt, Martine Beswick, Caroline Munro, Hazel Court, Raquel Welch, and Veronica Carlson.

BY DARREN ALLISON

Attending a film festival in the mid-seventies, Sam Peckinpah was once questioned about how the studios regularly bastardised his vision, his intension and more specifically, if he would ever be able to make a ''pure Peckinpah'' picture. He replied, '’I did 'Alfredo Garcia' and I did it exactly the way I wanted to. Good or bad, like it or not, that was my film.''

The overall narrative for Alfredo Garcia is neither complicated nor convoluted. Warren Oates plays Bennie, a simple pianist residing in a squalid barroom in Mexico. He is approached by two no-nonsense Americans (Robert Webber and Gig Young) who are attempting to track down Alfredo Garcia. The womanising Garcia is the man responsible for the pregnancy of Theresa (Janine Maldonado) the teenage daughter of a powerful Mexican boss El Jefe (Emilio Fernández). In a display of power, El Jefe offers $1,000,000 for the delivery of Garcia’s head. Bennie is unaware of the true bounty, but fully aware that his girlfriend, local prostitute Elita (Isela Vega) was once involved with Garcia. More importantly, Bennie also knows that Garcia is in fact, already dead. Bennie recognises this as a way out, a one off payday opportunity and convinces Elita to take him to Garcia’s burial place. His plan is to dig up the body, cut off the head and collect on his fee, an agreed $10,000. Elita shows some hesitancy, and before long the heavy drinking, paranoiac aspects of Bennie begin to suspect that Elita still carries feelings for the dead Garcia. After an arduous and testing car journey they both finally reach their destination, a place where their plans will take a devastating and unsuspecting twist.

Arrow has delivered a new 4K restoration from the original camera negative. The overall image is beautifully presented and a great deal cleaner than previously seen. Dirt, debris and all other manner of light wear have now been removed. As Arrow points out, there are some minor instances of density fluctuation and photochemical damage, but these really are not distracting. I noticed slight fluctuations during the torture of Theresa, but this is arguably due to the condition of the original film elements and to be expected. More importantly it does not distract from the overall presentation of the film. One could even suggest that such minor defects are perfectly suited and in line with the gritty, sweat soaked ambience that Peckinpah arguably sought to present. The 4K scan has been fully justified and as a result the level of detail has been greatly improved without ever compromising or hampering the genuine celluloid look – an element so essential to a movie such as Alfredo Garcia. Colours retain a realistic and natural quality, almost dry and dusty as opposed to a sun drenched and over cooked. Thankfully, Arrow has also resisted the temptation to beef up the audio, so don’t go looking for a falsely created 5.1 mix. Alfredo Garcia was recorded in mono, so purists will be delighted with the original 1.0 mono mix transferred from the original 35mm single stripe magnetic track. The audio elements are also clean, dynamic and hold a consistent level of clarity throughout.

Heading the extras on disc one are two excellent audio commentaries. The first is a new and exclusively recorded commentary by Stephen Prince, author of Savage Cinema: Sam Peckinpah and the Rise of Ultraviolent Movies. Prince’s narration looks closely at Peckinpah’s philosophy and theory. It’s a commentary that also examines the characters to some depth. It also encourages you to think and ask questions. There are also more generalised observations from Prince involving the story, in particular the scene with the two bikers (played by Kris Kristofferson and Donnie Fritts). It’s a scene which has always bothered me, and serves no real importance to the story. So it was pleasing to hear that Prince agrees, and that it provides very little - other than slowing down the pace and the narrative. I don’t mind either film philosophy or debate, but I occasionally believe it sometimes has a tendency to overstretch or lose itself in some strange form of self-consumption. Nevertheless, Prince’s commentary does keep your attention throughout and provides plenty of food for thought.

The second audio commentary is moderated by film historian Nick Redman and features Sam Peckinpah scholars Paul Seydor, Garner Simmons and David Weddle. This commentary first appeared on the Twilight Time Encore Edition Blu-ray and works extremely well. The advantage of course, is that it provides various different perspectives and viewpoints. For instance, on this occasion, the same Kristofferson and Fritts biker scene results in a clear difference of opinion. We, the viewer are offered a perfectly logical and justified reasoning for this scene, in that Bennie is provided with the opportunity ‘walk the walk’ rather than just ‘talk the talk’. The implication of the scene, along with a contrasting perspective of its inclusion, suddenly offers something new to digest and signifies perhaps a different level to Bennie’s character. Seydor, Simmons and Weddle are not afraid of arguing their opinions, but also retain a clear respect for each other’s knowledge and understanding. It’s a perfect ensemble of experts, each of whom is clearly on top of their subject.

Sam Peckinpah: Man of Iron is Paul Joyce’s feature-length (93minutes) 1993 documentary featuring interviews with James Coburn, Kris Kristofferson, Monte Hellman, Ali MacGraw, Jason Robards and many others. Its inclusion on Arrow’s special edition marks the first time it is available on home video in the UK. The documentary was released prior on Criterion’s Straw Dogs (1971) DVD release but omitted some film clips due to copyright and reduced the running time by some 10 minutes. Man of Iron is a very personal and enjoyable reflection of the man and told by the people that knew him best. It is a brutally honest account which shows Peckinpah, not only for his craftsmanship, but also for his flaws, for which there were many. As gifted as Peckinpah was, there are also accounts of his cruelty, manipulation and his complexity. His demise into alcohol and later his cocaine use is arguably pitiful and reflected to some degree in his later films. Regardless of this, he remained loved by his friends, many of which returned to work with him over and over again. Whilst Man of Iron celebrates the man and his work, it never attempts to paper over the cracks or his personal frailties. It provides a well-balanced account and as a result, makes for fascinating viewing.

Next up is The John Player Lecture: Sam Peckinpah, an audio only recording of the director’s on-stage appearance at the National Film Theatre in London (47 minutes). Whilst there is no indication, this recording possibly dates from around 1971. Peckinpah does make a reference to his next film to be released, The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970) and because he is in the UK at this time may be an indication that he was in pre-production stages for his next film Straw Dogs (1971) which was shot in Cornwall. Peckinpah does sound a little uncomfortable in front of an audience and not entirely at ease. There is almost a sense of comfort knowing that his friend Warren Oates is sitting among the audience and on several occasions Peckinpah tries to draw him actively into the conversation. When questioned about certain aspects of his work, Peckinpah does at times seem a little reluctant to answer and the sighs picked up by his microphone appear to back this up. However, Peckinpah does reveal a great deal of insightful information, as well as taking the opportunity in criticising the film establishment, such as the censors and producers and in the way they have handled his work. Historically, it is an important piece to include; my only minor gripe is when it comes to the audience questions, which are at times close to inaudible. As the audio interview is carried out over a still image of Peckinpah, it might have been an idea to overlay some text in reference to the actual audience questions. In doing so it would have made it a great deal easier to decipher exactly what Peckinpah was referring to in his answers.

Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Lionsgate:

Relive the imaginative and compelling cult classic, The Man Who Fell to Earth, when the Limited Collector’s Edition arrives on Blu-ray Combo Pack (plus Digital HD) January 24 from Lionsgate. International icon David Bowie stars in his unforgettable debut role as an alien who has ventured to Earth on a mission to save his planet from a catastrophic drought. In honor of David Bowie’s legacy, the limited collector’s edition Blu-ray Combo Pack includes never-before-seen interviews, brand new artwork, a 72-page bound book, press booklet, four art cards and a mini poster. Hailed as “the most intellectually provocative genre film of the 1970s” by Time Out, the remastered The Man Who Fell to Earth Limited Collector’s Edition Blu-ray Combo Pack will be available for the suggested retail price of $34.99.

OFFICIAL SYNOPSIS 

Thomas Jerome Newton (David Bowie) is a humanoid alien who comes to Earth from a distant planet on a mission to take water back to his home planet.

BLU-RAY/DVD/DIGITAL HD SPECIAL FEATURES

·       David Bowie Interview – French TV 1977

·       New Interview with Costume Designer May Routh Featuring Original Costume Sketches

·       New Interview with Stills Photographer David James Featuring Behind-the-Scenes Stills

·       New Interview with fan Sam Taylor-Johnson

·       New Interview with Producer Michael Deeley

·       New “The Lost Soundtracks” Featurette, Featuring Interviews with Paul Buckmaster and Author Chris Campion

·       Interview with Candy Clark

·       Interview with Writer Paul Mayersberg

·       Interview with Cinematographer Tony Richmond

·       Interview with Director Nicolas Roeg

CAST

David Bowie               Basquiat, Labyrinth, The Hunger

Buck Henry                The Graduate, Catch-22

Candy Clark               American Graffiti, Zodiac

Rip Torn                     Men in Black, Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

BY LEE PFEIFFER

If you're a Beatles fanatic, chances are you already caught up with this book which was released last year to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the Fab Four's second feature film "Help!". Photographer Emilio Lari gets billing on the front cover but the accompanying text inside was written by Alastair Gordon, who provides insights into the film and the filming. There is also a brief (sadly, very brief) foreword by the movie's director Richard Lester. The bulk of the book is dedicated to photos that Lari took on the set of "Help!" as unit stills photographer on the production. It should be noted that Lari  only worked on the UK-based sequences, primarily at Twickenham Studios and on the major sequence shot on the Salisbury Plain where the group plays a concert amid some military war games that are going on. Thus we don't get Lari's perspective on what he would have shot for the Bahamas scenes. Nevertheless, the book provides a gold mine of rare and previously unseen photos all captured with great skill by Lari. There is a playfulness apparent in the photos as this was shot during a time period when the lads from Liverpool were still trying to come to terms with their meteoric success. We see them lounging between takes strumming on guitars, smoking cigarettes, John donning a long woman's wig, posing with soldiers, walking among fans and on-lookers and clowning with Richard Lester, who seems to also be having the time of his life. Given what we know about what was to lie before them (i.e infighting, squabbling, Yoko and the ultimate breakup of the band), it's a pleasure to look back on The Beatles during their short-lived period of innocence and wonder, when they could still just concentrate on having fun and creating musical magic. It always struck me as odd that, with the exception of Ringo Starr, the Beatles never showed any interest in pursuing a career on the big screen. (A notable exception was John Lennon's co-starring role in Lester's "How I Won the War"). Each member of the band was a natural on screen but for whatever reason, Starr was the only band member to find success in the medium of cinema. Perhaps they sensed that film would distract from their creative abilities in the field of music. "Help!" had its pleasures but didn't come close to having the enduring impact of "A Hard Day's Night". Their third feature film, the animated "Yellow Submarine", disinterested them to such a degree that they wouldn't even provide their own voices for their cartoon alter-egos and limited their involvement in the project to a brief cameo appearance. Their final film, "Let It Be", was simply a filmed version of a recording session. We'll never know what could have been had the Beatles pursued more cinematic ventures, but this book does provide some wonderful memories of what they did achieve on film. 

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

BY TIM GREAVES

The first of only three films for which Peter Fonda took up residence in the director's chair – the others being Idaho Transfer (1973) and Wanda Nevada (1979) – unconventional western The Hired Hand (1971)is the jewel of the triad. A couple of fleeting outbursts of violence aside, it's heavy on gentle drama and light on shoot-'em-up action, as such more a thinking man’s western than one whose white hats and blackguards are clearly defined from the outset and proceed to serve up a profusion of rapid-fire gunfights with bounteous squirts of ketchup.

Following an upsetting incident which prompts him to reflect on his life choices, drifter Harry Collings (Peter Fonda) informs his travelling companions Arch Harris (Warren Oates) and Dan Griffen (Robert Pratt) that he's decided to return home to the wife and daughter he deserted six years earlier. Before they can part ways Dan is shot by a man who claims he assaulted his wife, which alters Arch’s plans; instead of riding out to the coast he accompanies Harry back to his homestead where, unsurprisingly, they're met with some disdain by his wife Hannah (Verna Bloom). She softens a little, however, and agrees to take on the pair as hired hands. As time passes and the bonds of Harry and Hannah's relationship strengthen, Arch begins to feel like a third wheel and announces his intention to hit the trail, whereafter Harry finds himself faced with a deadly situation that will test his loyalties to the zenith.

An unequivocal critical success when it was released in 1971, it's a little perplexing to learn that The Hired Hand passed broadly unacknowledged on the awards circuit, not so much in respect of wins – there were none – but more in that it received only 2 nominations; both were derived from critics' awards ceremonies and both were for Warren Oates as ‘Best Supporting Actor’. In any event, deserved as those nominations were, even though he was technically playing second fiddle to Fonda, to pigeonhole Oates as the movie’s supporting actor wasn’t exactly fair; he enjoys easily as much screen time as his co-star and, due in part to Alan Sharp's elegant script, I'd suggest as characterisation goes Arch Harris is far more interesting than his phlegmatic comrade and Oates gets to overshadow Fonda in every respect. High Plains Drifter's Verna Bloom also gives a memorable performance as the slightly dowdy yet subtly sensual Hannah Collings, outwardly toughened by circumstance but warm and caring beneath. Meanwhile Severn Darden, perhaps best remembered as Conquest of the Planet of the Apes’ baddie Kolp (a role he reprised in Battle for...), makes for a splendid if underused malefactor; he’s so deliciously venomous that one hankers to see more of him. 

The picture was beautifully shot by Vilmos Zsigmond (later Oscar-winner for his cinematography on Close Encounters of the Third Kind), with a profusion of freeze-frame transition dissolves and exquisite chocolate-box sunsets that are joyous to behold. Folk musician Bruce Langhorne's debut film score is evocative of the very essence of western movies and his banjo-driven opener is nothing if not a triumphant earworm. 

Following his success as star and co-writer on Easy Rider, Peter Fonda was in a position to do whatever he wanted; that his directorial debut should birth The Hired Hand – a film so accomplished, with such genuine depth of emotion and richness of character – shows the measure of the man’s talent and one might lament that opportunities to expand on it were to subsequently prove so scant. The aforementioned deficit of action means it probably won't be to everyone's taste, especially those seeking a more traditional western. But those who enjoy a thoughtful, leisurely-paced tale of the Unforgiven ilk are likely to feel well rewarded.

Admirers of The Hired Hand should be thoroughly delighted by Arrow Academy's dual format Blu-Ray/DVD package. The movie is presented in 1.85:1 aspect ratio with 1.0 mono sound and certainly looks better than it ever has. Peter Fonda provides a feature accompanying commentary and the plentiful supplements comprise a 59-minute in-depth documentary from 2003 (which includes interviews with Fonda, Verna Bloom, Vilmos Zsigmond and Bruce Langhorne), a second documentary from 1978 (which runs 52-minutes and focuses on a trio of Scottish screenwriters, the pertinent one being Alan Sharp), a 2-minute to-camera piece in which Martin Scorsese enthuses about the film, five deleted scenes (presented 4:3, with a combined runtime of around 20-minutes, one of which features Larry Hagman and places a different slant on Arch’s reasons for upping sticks and departing the Collings ranch), an alternate edit of the finale, a 1971 audio recording of Fonda and Warren Oates at the NFT, a generous selection of trailers, radio and TV spots, and a stills gallery. The release also benefits from the now standard (for Arrow’s releases) reversible sleeve art and souvenir booklet.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON UK

BY TIM GREAVES

Director Joe Dante's 1993 comic-drama Matinee is a loving ode to the monster movies that enthralled him during his youth. Equally it's a Valentine to film producer William Castle, without whose uniquely innovative approach to film exhibition a generation of moviegoers would have been denied such wonders as ‘Emergo’ (for The House on Haunted Hill), ‘Percepto’ (for The Tingler) and ‘Illusion-O’ (for Thirteen Ghosts). 

During the fraught two- week period of the Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962, brothers Gene (Simon Fenton) and Dennis (Jesse Lee) are thrilled to learn that not only is new horror picture Mant! getting a sneak preview at their local movie emporium the Key West Strand, but that the screening is going to be attended by showman extraordinaire Lawrence Woolsey (John Goodman), who's planning to test run his newest attraction, ‘Atomo Vision’. Woolsey is a second-rate producer of third-rate pictures who peddles his wares on the back of gimmickry, and he rigs out the Strand with all manner of electronic wizardry to optimise the viewing experience, much to the chagrin of its unimpressed manager (Robert Picardo). But as the evening of the big show approaches so the threat of nuclear annihilation heats up...

Set against the backdrop of the infamous and alarming political confrontation between America and the Soviet Union, we get glimpses throughout Matinee of the understandable mania that gripped a terrified public – the stripping of shelves in grocery stores in order to stock up for post-strike survival, the mind-boggling naiveté of the futile drills instructing schoolchildren on how to live through such an attack – but as with several other Dante films including Small Soldiers, Explorers and The Hole, the nucleus of the narrative concerns a bunch of kids and a childhood adventure. The four youngsters who assume the key roles here â€“ Simon Fenton, Omri Katz, Lisa Jakub and Kellie Martin – are all very likeable and bring a nice measure of charm to the party. And, unsurprisingly, John Goodman has a fine old time chewing up the scenery as the larger-than-life showmaster with a pretty girl on his arm (Cathy Moriarty), a big fat cigar in one hand and a litany of wild ideas in the other. 

For those who enjoy such things – and I certainly do – the setting of Matinee in a cinema makes for an unparalleled nostalgia trip, Gene and Dennis’s wide-eyed enthusiasm for movies provoking heady memories of the sheer excitement of those childhood trips to the pictures, brimming with barely restrained anticipation for what might emerge from the shaft of light beaming out over my head. Certainly anyone with a fondness for old sci-fi and horror titles, particularly the vast catalogue that emerged during the 1950s, should get a thrill out of the ambience that Dante conjures up; just look at the gorgeous period decor of The Strand, its walls a haven of gorgeous movie art, its facade bedecked with splashy posters and stills...not to mention the two enormous rubber ant legs extending out over the marquee. A snapshot of a joyous era of showmanship sadly long since dispensed with.

And then, of course, there's Mant! itself, a fun homage to the very best (and worst) of those sci-fi/horror clunkers and a recognisable hybrid of Them! and The Fly. Dante, a dyed in the wool monster movie buff himself, treats us to several extended scenes of this film-within-a-film, which concerns Bill, a man who has an unfortunate reaction to a dental x-ray and thereafter metamorphoses into a giant ant. The dialogue, delivered with deliciously straight-faced sincerity, is very funny indeed, for example this line from Kevin McCarthy as a military General loud-hailing the mammoth insect scaling a tower block: "Bill…come down off that building – we've got sugar for you!" Supported by a typically euphonious and playful score from the always reliable Jerry Goldsmith, Matinee may not be Dante at his best – for that I would point to Gremlins or Innerspace, or more recently Burying the Ex – but it's certainly Dante given reign to express his passion for a cinematic genre so dear to his heart.

Arrow has issued Matinee on a dual format Blu-ray/DVD release in the UK. The 1.85:1 ratio image is very nice with only a couple of scenes bearing particularly noticeable grain. Supplements are bountiful, the highlight for this writer being the feature-length version of Mant! itself, seen teasingly in interrupted chunks during Matinee; okay, so it runs for just 16-minutes, but it's easily as much fun as the old films to which it pays tribute and there's even a mock, distinctly Castle-esque trailer for it dropped in for good measure. Additionally we get interviews with Joe Dante, cinematographer John Hora and editor Marshall Harvey, a piece concerning some of the director’s stock players (Robert Picardo, Archie Hahn, Belinda Balaski, John Sayles and, of course, Dick Miller – hey, what would such a featurette be without input from him?), deleted and extended sequences, some behind-the-scenes footage, a vintage electronic press kit (how antiquated those once revolutionary, pre-Internet promotional packages look 20+ years on!), and a theatrical trailer. The disc comes housed in a reversible sleeve, offering fans a choice of original or newly commissioned art, and it’s also accompanied by a collectible booklet.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON UK

(Photo: Rex) 

BY LEE PFEIFFER

It's a photo that will bring back many great memories for countless retro movie lovers across the globe. Participating in a centenary parade to honor his hometown of Carmel, California, Clint Eastwood shocked the crowd by leading a parade atop an old-time Western stagecoach and dressing as The Man With No Name, the character he made famous (and who made him famous) in the classic trilogy of films directed by Sergio Leone in the mid-1960s.  For a man of 86, Eastwood stills looks might tall in the saddle. It appears that the hat he is wearing might be the one he wore in his 1992 Oscar-winner "Unforgiven". Eastwood became enamored of the Carmel area in the late 1960s. He filmed his first directorial effort, "Play Misty For Me" there in 1971. In 1986 Eastwood took a hiatus from acting to run for mayor the town. He was elected and served one successful term before resuming his career as an actor and director.

Unlike most actors, Eastwood can say that many of the costumes associated with his films have been preserved for posterity. His long association with Warner Brothers has resulted in the studio preserving an archive of his iconic costumes worn in WB films. Eastwood has been especially sentimental about the poncho he wore in the Leone trilogy and has only shown it publicly on rare occasions. In 2005 he authorized the poncho to be displayed at the Autry Center in Los Angeles as part of props exhibition relating to the films of Sergio Leone. 

For more click here. 

“ALTMAN’S NORTHWEST TERRITORY”

By Raymond Benson

Robert Altman’s self-proclaimed “anti-western,” based on the novel McCabe by Edmund Naughton, is one peculiar piece of cinema that fits right in with the “New Hollywood” movement that began in the late 60s and continued through most of the next decade. At the time, McCabe & Mrs. Miller was considered extremely unconventional, not very audience-friendly, and quirky to boot. Cinema-goers expecting a traditional western were bewildered, but word-of-mouth and good reviews by younger, “hip” critics edged the picture along to more educated and receptive viewers. Today, McCabe is generally acclaimed to be one of Altman’s best movies.

We weren’t yet accustomed to the director’s methods of movie-making in 1971. M*A*S*H (1970), of course, was a huge and popular hit. His second effort, Brewster McCloud (also 1970), was less welcomed, although its charms are appreciated now by the faithful (I consider it one of Altman’s better pictures). McCabe followed these, so the director’s stylistic temperaments were still new: overlapping dialogue, improvisational acting, ensemble casting, murky—and yet beautiful—cinematography, an unusual musical soundtrack, anti-heroes for protagonists, and a “controlled sloppiness” of mise-en-scène. McCabe had all of these things, but it also had two strong performances by the leads, Warren Beatty and Julie Christie, and by the soon-to-be-familiar “Altman stock company” (Keith Carradine, Shelley Duvall, René Auberjonois, John Schuck, Bert Remsen, Michael Murphy, among others).

McCabe (Beatty) drifts into a ne’er-do-well mining town in the U.S. northwest territory, circa turn of the last century—so it was still very much “western times”—and promptly decides to show the settlers he could be an alpha dog. The town is still in the process of being built—the only notable structures are the church and the saloon. Not bothering to refute a rumor that he’s a gunfighter who had killed men, McCabe sets up a brothel and begins to make serious money. Enter Mrs. Miller (Christie), a Cockney (and opium addict) who comes to town to start her own whorehouse. She and McCabe eventually team up and create a class-A establishment that is actually the cleanest and most comfortable place to hang out. Then the evil mining company arrives to buy out McCabe, and he’d better accept—or else. McCabe turns out to be not a gunslinger at all—but he attempts to fake it in order to save his own life, Mrs. Miller, and the town.

Christie was nominated for Best Actress for her role, and she is quite good as the strong woman who actually becomes the brains of the outfit. Beatty’s McCabe is actually not a very smart guy—he’s all bravado and no substance—a character he does well seeing that it’s out of the actor’s comfort zone. Keith Carradine made his big screen debut in the film at the age of nineteen—he’s wonderfully goofy and lanky as a cowboy who spends most of his time at the brothel.

Vilmos Zsigmond’s photography is indeed murky; its soft focus was apparently achieved with a pre-fogging technique on the film negative prior to exposure. On Criterion’s new Blu-ray, the imagery looks better than I remember it did when it was projected on a screen.

Probably the most impressive thing about the film is production designer Leon Ericksen’s “town” which is built before our eyes as the movie progresses. Altman employed the builders as actors (in costumes) and they are seen in the background, working away, as the action unfolds in front of them.

The disk sports a new 4K digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack. An audio commentary from 2002 featuring Altman and producer David Foster accompanies the film—and it’s always a pleasure to listen to the director talk about his films. There’s a fascinating new making-of documentary featuring the likes of Carradine, Auberjonois, frequent Altman collaborator Joan Tewkesbury, casting director Graeme Clifford, and others; an interesting new video conversation between film historians Cari Beauchamp and Rick Jewell; a vintage featurette about the production; footage from the Art Directors Guild Film Society Q&A from 1999 with Ericksen; an archival interview with Zsigmond; a gallery of stills from the set by photographer Steve Schapiro; and—perhaps the most fun—two excerpts from The Dick Cavett Show from 1971, one with Pauline Kael talking about the film, and the other with Altman. There’s the obligatory trailer, and an essay by novelist and critic Nathaniel Rich in the booklet.

Bottom line—the Criterion Collection’s latest addition to its Robert Altman line-up is impressive and belongs on the shelf of any true cinephile.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

By Todd Garbarini

Freddie Francis had a long and prosperous career in the cinema, learning many areas of filmmaking by cutting his teeth as a stills photographer, clapper boy, camera loader and focus puller; he also worked on training films while in the army. Garnering enough experience led him to become a camera operator on films as diverse as The Tales of Hoffman (a favorite of George Romero’s and Martin Scorsese’s), Twice Upon a Time, and Beat the Devil. He also worked as a cinematographer on The Innocents, Night Must Fall, The Elephant Man, and Dune, while scoring two Oscars for shooting Sons and Lovers and Glory. In the midst of this, he managed to find time to direct more than his share of thrillers in the 1960’s and 1970’s, chief among them The Brain, Paranoiac, Nightmare, The Evil of Frankenstein, Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors, The Skull, Trog, Tales from the Crypt, and The Creeping Flesh. Most genre fans grew up seeing these films on late-night television or on weekend broadcasts, and they all have appeared on home video in a variety of different formats.

One of Mr. Francis’ most elusive titles is the bizarre, black comedy Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly, released Stateside simply as Girly in 1970. Now available on an all-region NTSC DVD by the fine Scorpion Releasing, which has also brought us Sweet William, Cheerleaders Wild Weekend, Say Hello to Yesterday, and The Last Grenade to name a few, Girly, Based upon Maisie Mosco’s stage play Happy Family, is an obscure and fairly macabre tale of a brother and sister (Howard Trevor and Vanessa Howard) who suffer from a form of arrested development at the hands of their crazed mother (Ursula Howells) and equally batty nanny (Pat Heywood) who treat the twenty-somethings as if they were still toddlers. Mumsy and Nanny refer to Sonny and Girly (who both wear school uniforms that they clearly are too old to be wearing) as their "darling loves" and smother them with creepy affection. They play in schoolyards and zoos, looking for “new friends” and rope them into their staged games by kidnapping them and taking them back to their enormous house (in reality the Oakley Court Hotel in Windsor, England) to incorporate them into their day for fun. Among these “new friends” are men they refer to as “soldier” and “number five” who are both held prisoner. An unfortunate couple (Michael Bryant and Imogen Hassall) is fooled by their childish charms and the woman meets her untimely demise through an “accident” that Girly blames on the man. The poor guy ends up at their house with his girlfriend’s body dumped in a chest. In order to stay alive, he’s forced to be polite and made to ask, “Please may I have some bread, Mumsy?” and “Please, may I be excused?” prior to using the water closet which is outfitted with an artificial toilet that houses a jack-in-the-box. Any attempt to flee the premises is met with stern warnings of being “sent to the angels” should such further actions occur. Michael Haneke more than likely took a cue from this film when he made both versions of his film Funny Games which were far more gruesome and tragic.

BY TIM GREAVES

No matter the conveyor-belt of bubblegum product proliferating at 21^st century multiplexes, it will always be the classics that endure. Robert Louis Stevenson's celebrated novel “Kidnapped” – initially serialised in magazine form before being published as a single volume in 1886 – has been tailored for cinema and television many times, notably (for the big screen) in 1948 starring Dan O'Herlihy and Roddy McDowell and in 1959 featuring Peter Finch and James McArthur. 1971’s Kidnapped from director Delbert Mann doesn't seem to get as much love as some of its siblings, but for this writer it’s one of the most enjoyable of the clan, specifically due to the presence of Michael Caine atop the cast.

Following the terrible slaughter at the battle of Culloden, during which the Jacobite forces are overthrown by government troops, an orphaned lad, David Balfour (Lawrence Douglas) arrives at the home of his Uncle Ebenezer (Donald Pleasence) to claim his inheritance. However, intent on securing it for himself, the grasping old man slyly arranges for his nephew to be shanghaied, whereupon David finds himself prisoner at sea of Captain Hoseason (Jack Hawkins), destined for sale into slavery. When they run across notorious Jacobite rebel Alan Breck (Michael Caine), David seizes the opportunity to ally with Breck and escape. They make it back to shore and seek refuge with Breck's relatives, his uncle, James Stewart (Jack Watson), and cousin Catriona (Vivien Heilbron). But their adventure is only just beginning.

Although, of all Robert Louis Stevenson's stories, "Treasure Island" remains the premier boys' own adventure, "Kidnapped" is a cracker of a good yarn. Jack Pulman's screenplay for this 1971 adaptation draws not only on that story but also a chunk of its 1893 sequel "Catriona". And regardless of the fact it all ends rather sorrowfully, it's still a rousing piece of fiction, the recounting of which is well worth journeying alongside.

Delbert Mann (Oscar winner for romantic drama Marty and much admired by this writer for early 60s Doris Day rom-coms That Touch of Mink and Lover Come Back) treated movie-goers to a star-studded and colourful period costume drama whose glue, as previously remarked upon, is indisputably Michael Caine. Admittedly the actor's Scottish accent waivers dreadfully at times, but otherwise he's on excellent form with his infinite charisma and inexhaustible brio serving to paper over any perceivable cracks. He certainly outshines co-star Lawrence Douglas, whose David is more than a touch insipid; Douglas worked almost exclusively in minor TV roles, with Kidnapped representing his only silver screen appearance of note. Flame-haired Vivien Heilbron fares a little better as the lovely Catriona and there's strong support from dependables Jack Watson as her father, Trevor Howard as the surly Lord Advocate, Gordon Jackson as lawyer Charles Stewart, Freddie Jones as cardsharp Cluny, and Jack Hawkins as the odious Captain Hoseason (discernibly dubbed by Charles Gray who, due to Hawkins suffering from throat cancer, often re-voiced the actor during this period of his career). Special word for Donald Pleasence (who’s delicious as the slimy and duplicitous Uncle Ebenezer) and a young Geoffrey Whitehead, nicely reptilian as Loyalist Lieutenant Duncansby.

Thesps aside, the undisputed star of the film is the beautiful location photography of Paul Beeson (whose skills can also be admired in the likes of Mosquito Squadron, The Sound of Music, Never Say Never Again and the Indiana Jones trilogy); seldom have the Scottish Highlands looked so stunningly beautiful. Arguably, Vladimir Cosma's music for a late 70s TV adaptation will probably never be surpassed (so gorgeously honeyed that, if the mood is right, it has the power to move this writer to tears). However, Roy Budd's score for Mann's film – along with the closing romantic ballad performed by Mary Hopkin – is memorably redolent and contributes immeasurably towards making this more than respectable screen adaptation of its source story a very worthy investment of one's time.

Network Distributing, who originally released Kidnapped on DVD in the UK in 2007, have reissued it in a nicely fulsome package as part of their continuing 'The British Film' series. The feature itself is a clean 2.35:1 ratio presentation with only the most minimal traces of wear. Caine fans will delight in the inclusion of no less than three lengthy archive interviews (with a combined running time of over an hour), two of them hosted by Russell Harty during the actor's promotional tours for Sleuth and The Eagle Has Landed, one by Gloria Hunniford focusing on Educating Rita. Then there’s a short 1971 behind-the-scenes featurette hosted by Lawrence Douglas, a gallery of poster art, FOH and lobby cards and an extensive collection of production stills, plus an original trailer. For those hesitant as to whether the film alone is sufficient inducement to warrant purchase, the wealth of supplementary material served up on Network’s disc should definitely clinch the deal.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER 

“EVERYTHING BUT THE KITCHEN SINK”

By Raymond Benson

In the late 1950s, a film movement emerged in Britain known as “Free Cinema.” Some of the U.K.’s most celebrated filmmakers of the 1960s and 70s were among its practitioners—Lindsay Anderson, Karel Reisz, Lorenza Mazzetti, and Tony Richardson. The directors made low budget, short documentaries about the working class with an almost deliberate “non commercial” sensibility. It was radical and exciting, and it was a precursor to the British New Wave that dovetailed with the French New Wave that was so influential on filmmakers everywhere.

Many of the pictures of the British New Wave, released between 1959 and 1964, focused on characters described as “angry young men,” and the films themselves were referred to by critics and theorists as “kitchen sink dramas.” This was because the movies were presented in a harsh, realistic fashion and were indeed about the gritty, working class lives of “ordinary” (but actually, extraordinary) people. Some of the titles you’ll recognize—Look Back in Anger, Room at the Top, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, This Sporting Life, and others.

A Taste of Honey, released in 1961 and directed by Tony Richardson, was a product of the early Free Cinema Movement and the British New Wave. Based on a controversial but highly successful stage play by first-time dramatist (at age 19) Shelagh Delaney, Taste is remarkable for several reasons. For one, it is about an “angry young woman.” It is also shockingly frank for its time. The British Board of Censors approved the picture only for persons over the age of 16, for it deals with these then taboo subjects—female promiscuity, alcoholism, interracial sex, pregnancy out of wedlock, and homosexuality. There’s even a bit of nudity. (As a “kitchen sink drama,” it indeed has everything but!)

The story focuses on Jo (expertly played by newcomer Rita Tushingham), who lives with her tramp of a mother, Helen (Dora Bryan), in a Manchester ne’er-do-well working class environment. Helen seems to flit from man to man and doesn’t care all that much for her daughter, now 16. Jo, frustrated and dissatisfied with the status quo, has a relationship with a black sailor (Paul Danquah) who’s in town for a few days. Helen runs off with a new beau, Peter (Robert Stephens), and gets married, leaving Jo alone and pregnant. Jo then finds solace by befriending a gay man, Geoffrey (courageously portrayed by Murray Melvin), who moves in with her until Helen decides to leave her husband and return.

This was bold stuff in 1961. In fact, it was still against the law in England to be homosexual at the time. It is to Delaney’s credit to bring the Geoff character to life on the stage without saying he’s gay, but letting the audience know without a doubt that he is. The film version accomplishes the same thing (Melvin is the only cast member who was also in the original stage production), handling the subject matter with honesty, grace, and empathy.

Filmed entirely on location, the picture captures the grime and hardships of these people but also manages to be brilliantly entertaining. The acting is top-notch, and Richardson’s direction is flawless. The camerawork by Walter Lassally, often hand-held, provides a documentary feel to the proceedings that expound on the earlier stylistic traits of the Free Cinema Movement.

The Criterion Collection Blu-ray release features a new, restored 4K digital transfer with an uncompressed monaural soundtrack, and it looks marvelous. Supplements include: new interviews with Rita Tushingham and Murray Melvin (the latter’s is especially enlightening); an audio interview with Tony Richardson from 1962, accompanied by stills and clips; an excerpt from a 1960 television interview with Shelagh Delaney; a 1998 interview with DP Walter Lassally; a new piece with film scholar Kate Dorney about the film’s origins and the stage production’s director, Joan Littlewood; and Momma Don’t Allow, a 1956 Free Cinema documentary short co-directed by Richardson and Karel Reisz and shot by Lassally. The booklet contains an essay by film scholar Colin MacCabe.

While the storyline and subject matter might sound drab and dire, A Taste of Honey does have an under-flavor of sweetness that makes viewing the film a truly rewarding experience. Recommended.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

BY HANK REINEKE

Though I’m generally not wishy-washy in my assessment of… well, practically anything, I admit to holding a decidedly middle-ground opinion on the work of Jesus “Jess” Franco.  There are some films by this controversial Spanish director that inspire me to become more intimate with his work.  Conversely, there are others that actually discourage me from seeking out additional titles. His films, particularly those from 1972-1973 following, have proven to be polarizing to cineastes. Though he attracted notice in the early 1960s with such more or less traditionally-mannered horror films as The Awful Dr. Orloff and The Diabolical Dr. Z (both shot in atmospheric black and white and both quite entertaining), Franco was a restless, creative soul eager to push the envelope.

By the mid-70s Franco had attained a reputation as a competent and bankable director of exploitation features. Even his detractors – and there are many – cannot argue that the director had an ability to bring a film to market both quickly and under-budget. Beginning in the early-1970s, he would controversially begin to introduce elements of soft-core pornography within the framework of otherwise more conventional horror or historical-period films. Some find these films artful and intriguing; others see them as sadistic, lurid celebrations of sexual violence. These controversial films would often be seen as pandering to an audience that four-time Franco collaborator Christopher Lee would later deride as the “raincoat crowd.” Whether you found Franco’s films as artful unabashed celebrations of the female form or as unrelentingly sordid cinema that’s unapologetically misogynistic in construction… Well, this would all depend on your own moral compass.

Blue Underground has just released two of Franco’s earliest, most notorious – and, to be fair, occasionally artful – films on Blu-ray. Both films originate from the era that historians perceive as the controversial director’s transitional period: Eugenie… the story of her journey into perversion (1970) and Justine (1969). Both films were inspired by the works of the notorious eighteenth century French novelist the Marquis de Sade, an author for whom Franco clearly shares an affinity.

Jesus Franco’s Eugenie… the story of her journey into perversion (1970) is tangentially based on de Sade’s notorious 1795 novel La philosophie dans le boudoir (“Philosophy in the Bedroom”). Franco describes de Sade as “an extraordinary writer” in one supplement, and offers Eugenie as “the story of a poor girl who drowns in a hemorrage of sin in the discovery of love.” If this is truly Franco’s perception, his interpretation is a bit at odds with de Sade’s own conception of the title character. In de Sade’s novel, Eugenie is a young girl already unredeemingly infused with decadent and depraved impulses. In Franco’s film, the young girl is portrayed as a victimized ingénue, an innocent misued and brutalized by elders and authority figures for their own lurid pleasures. In de Sade’s novel Eugenie is a willing participant in acts of near-unspeakable debauchery. In his own version of the wicked novel, Franco almost entirely removes this component from the scenario, portraying the young girl as an unfortunate hostage to predators who manipulate her through a combination of mind control and drugs.

Though his name is offered on publicity materials as one of the film’s two stars (the other being the gorgeous Swedish actress Marie Liljedahl), Christopher Lee recalls Eugenie as the only motion picture in his career that he was moved to ask his name being struck from advertising. The distinguished British actor has long told a tale that, a mere six months following his work on the film, a friend tipped him off that the final cut of Eugenie was not playing in the usual cinemas in and around London.  Quickly following up on his friend’s observation, Lee was reportedly horrified upon discovery the film had been relegated to the sordid “blue” cinemas of Compton Street in the city’s Soho district. He was especially troubled by a scene where a completely nude woman, surrounded by a gaggle of Sadists, was strapped to a table in the background of one of his shots. In the early 1980s, Lee dismissively told Robert W. Pohle Jr. and Douglas C. Hart, authors of The Films of Christopher Lee (Scarecrow Press, 1983), “that I was entirely ignorant of what was going to take place behind my back after I had finished the comparatively innocuous scenes I appeared in.”

In the eighteen-minute and informative supplement Murderous Passions: The Delirious Cinema of Jesus Franco (also included on this Blue Underground release) film historian Stephen Thrower suggests that Lee might have been somewhat disingenuous with his claim of being unaware of the debauch scene playing out behind him.  As Lee was a self-acknowledged worldly and literate man of the arts, the author suggests that it would be highly unlikely that the actor would have not been at least partly familiar with the writings of de Sade. Surely this cultured English gentleman would be well aware of what sort of film this was to be?  Having suggested this, Thrower nonetheless admits willingness to accept Lee’s victim-hood at face value; he acknowledges neither Franco nor producer Harry Alan Towers were the type to suffer moral ambiguities in the countenance of such deception.

In any event, and regardless of his excised headline billing, Lee is hardly a main player in the production. The actor recalls the “bits and pieces” in which he was involved were shot on a Barcelona sound-stage in all of two days. In his single primary scene, the actor was even made to supply his own wardrobe: a red velvet smoking jacket he had appropriated following the shooting of the East German-French-Italian co-production Sherlock Holmes and the Deadly Necklace (1962). What is certain is that Lee would not work with the director again. Though belated release dates on the continent and in the U.S. might suggest otherwise, Lee collaborated on four films with Jesus Franco from late 1968 through mid-1969. Along with Eugenie, there were The Castle of Fu Manchu (1970), The Bloody Judge (1970), and Count Dracula (1972).

If Lee harbored any lasting hard feelings for Franco’s perceived betrayal of his trust, it apparently wasn’t long-lasting.  In one supplement Lee magnanimously describes the Spaniard as “a much better director than he’s given credit for.” He suggests the filmmaker was handicapped not by any lack of talent in his craft, but by tight schedules (most of Franco’s films were given three to four weeks of photography at a maximum) and shoestring budgets. If this is Lee’s genuine appraisal of Franco’s talents, it’s not one shared by the director himself. The filmmaker is surprisingly dismissive of his own work, only acknowledging with dispassion, “of all my films [Eugenie is] the one I hate the least.”

Though not a neat break from his past oeuvre, historians of continental film are of the mind that Eugenie was more-or-less a transitional movie for Franco, a pivotal catalyst for the director’s turn from more traditional movie-making forms to a more seamy and steamy catalog of cult-films. In the final analysis, Eugenie was a difficult film to market in 1970 as it had a cinematic foothold in two disparate worlds. U.S. distributor, Jerry Gross, didn’t even want the final product as he found the film too artsy and tame and wanted to see more flesh on-screen. Franco would defend the finished film as “erotic but not pornographic.” Depending on where one draws the line between art and pornography, I suppose this is a somewhat truthful self-assessment on Franco’s part. It took no fewer than three attempts to market the film in Germany due to censorship issues, and in the U.K. there was no general release.

Though no less exploitative than Eugenie, Franco’s Justine is actually a visually softer and more lavish production. It’s a moody costume-drama set in the time of de Sade’s world, a time replete with castles, and lush gardens, and baroque music. The film is also mounted in a more traditional format, the many sordid indignities suffered by the title character recounted in an unrelenting episodic style. Like Eugenie, Justine (the beautiful Romina Power, the eighteen-year old daughter of screen-legend Tyrone Power) is degraded in equal measure by religious figures, criminals, noblemen, and low caste boarding house tenants. Also as in Eugenie, the young girl is savaged with moral disregrad by both predatory men and women. The film voyeuristically drifts from episode to episode as Justine endures a series of humiliations. The film is unrelentingly grim, and the filmmaker’s almost casual depictions of sexual violence rarely pauses a moment so one can catch a breath.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

A specific type of film genre that has all but vanished is that of the circus movie. In decades past circuses provided the backdrop for spectacle (i.e. Demille's The Greatest Show on Earth), horror (Todd Browning's Freaks), uplifting musicals (MGM's Jumbo) and cheesy but fun thrillers (Berserk!).  Indeed, there is something very old fashioned and timeless about traditional circuses and that is part of their appeal. For a few thousand years circuses have entertained audiences with their combination of exotic animals and feats of derring do. Yet, while circuses still maintain their popular appeal they have been designated by studio executives as being too quaint for modern movie audiences. Thus we have to look into the past to relish them on film. One of the more prominent circus-related production was The Big Show, which was released in 1961 and for which Esther Williams stepped out of a swimming pool briefly in order to play a mature character in a mature drama. Despite receiving first billing, however, Williams is primarily relegated to serving as window dressing in this compelling, well-acted story that served as a career boost for Cliff Robertson and Robert Vaughn. The film was loosely based on a novel by Jerome Weidman titled I'll Never Go There Anymore that had been previously adapted into two other films, Broken Lance and House of Cards. 

Nehemiah Persoff plays Bruno Everard, the widowed head of a traveling German circus that he and his late wife built from humble beginnings. The circus now has a loyal following and is financially successful but Bruno wants it to expand even further. He runs the business with his eldest son Josef (Cliff Robertson) and his two other sons Hans (Kurt Pecher) and Fredrik (Franco Andrei).  Their 18 year-old sister Garda (Carol Christensen) joins her brothers in their responsibility to perform in the circus as trapeze artists but suffers from her father's patronizing and overly-protective oversight of every aspect of her life. Bruno's fourth son, Klaus (Robert Vaughn) is the black sheep of the family.  Due to a fear of heights, he cannot serve as a trapeze artist. Consequently, Bruno regards him as emasculated and weak. Klaus tries to contribute by performing a knife-throwing act and also acting as a bookkeeper behind the scenes yet he constantly receives humiliating insults from his father, who says the knife throwing act is too amateurish to be part of a major circus.Bruno is less a family patriarch than a tyrant. He exercise dictatorial control over the circus and only occasionally listens to Josef's advice and suggestions. He also has demanded that none of his children may ever date or marry anyone he has not approved of because he doesn't want an outsider to share in the fortunes of the circus that he has so painstakingly built. Bruno  feels the best way to expand the circus is by forging a partnership with a competitor, Pietro Vizzini (Peter Capell), an elderly man in frail health. Like Bruno, he is widowed and has a daughter, Teresa (Renate Mannhardt), a rather homely young woman who is primarily known for her dangerous circus act of taming and interacting with polar bears. The calculating Bruno feels that the business merger will only happen if one of his sons marries Teresa and he basically orders Josef to propose to her. Josef refuses. Turns out he's dating Hillary Allen (Esther Williams), a playgirl socialite who has been visiting the circus and making eyes at him while he performs his trapeze act. The handsome Klaus, in an attempt to please his father, courts Teresa and convinces her to marry him, which does cement the joint the venture between Bruno and her father. However, much to his distress, Bruno still can't say a kind word to Klaus and continues to publicly humiliate him, thus setting in motion events that will inevitably tragedy to both families. Meanwhile, Bruno- like the character of Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof- finds that his children are resisting his dictatorial demands. Once Josef disobeys him to court Hillary, Garda does the same by dating a young American G.I., Eric Solden (David Nelson). When Bruno insists that they break up their relationship, Eric and Garda inform him that they intend to marry and move to America. Suddenly, Bruno's world begins to fall apart. A suicide and a tragic accident put the circus in jeopardy. When it appears that Bruno will be found guilty of negligence and jailed due to the accident that killed several of his people, Josef bravely accepts the blame and serves a five year jail sentence. When he returns to the circus from prison he finds Klaus has now manipulated his weak brothers into allowing him to take control, thus leading to a one-on-one deadly confrontation with Josef. 

The Big Show was filmed in Germany and utilized the performers from an actual circus. The film is essentially a soap opera centering of the challenges encountered by lovers and would-be lovers. There's a bit of tension in the relationship between Hillary and Josef after he proposes to her when she begins to speak of their lavish life on Park Avenue. Josef is dedicated to a life in the circus and this causes them to temporarily break up. Similarly, when Klaus informs his new bride Teresa that he only married her for business reasons, his cruel remarks lead to a predictable but dramatic outcome. Most of the drama, however, is related to Bruno's relationship with virtually everyone around him. He has the ability to turn on the charm when it's for his own gain but for the most part he is a humorless, dour man whose inability to compromise leads to his downfall. Nehemiah Persoff is outstanding in the role and dominates every scene he's in. His nuanced performance makes the character of Bruno less a villain than a well-intentioned but misguided man who simply wants to ensure the future of the business that he built from scratch. Persoff gets strong support from Robertson, who is handsome, dignified and understated in the manner in which he deals maturely with his father's bombastic demands. Josef respects and admires his father but has also earned his respect by standing up to him, whereas his weak brothers are used by Bruno as human door mats. All of the other actors are adequate enough in their roles with the exception of David Nelson, who was then starring in the popular Ozzie and Harriet TV series. He comes across as impossibly polite and is more virginal than the innocent girl he wants to marry.  Esther Williams goes against type by playing a woman who is, initially at least, self-centered and irresponsible. She does a fair enough job but the producers couldn't resist inserting a superfluous sequence in which she enters a swimming pool. Because Williams' character is the least interesting it's no surprise that the actress is routinely overshadowed by other cast members. The most complex character is Klaus and he is exceptionally well-played by Vaughn. Although he turns into an outright villain, we can see the reasons why. When he tries to do the right thing he is constantly rejected by his father. Thus, it's no surprise he develops serious "daddy issues". Interestingly, Vaughn made his mark with three major films in succession in which he played emotionally fragile young men. In his Oscar-nominated turn in "The Young Philadelphians" he was a young aristocrat who falls into alcoholism and finds himself framed for murder. In "The Magnificent Seven" he was the member of the macho group who had to cope with inherent cowardice and in "The Big Show" he plays a man driven to extremes by his failure to live up to his father's expectations. Ironically once he reached stardom a few years later he would generally known for playing self-assured men of action and confidence.

"The Big Show", ably directed by James B. Clark, is certainly not an underrated classic. However, it is consistently engrossing and highly entertaining with some wonderful footage of trapeze artists and tightrope walkers achieving feats that still seem impossible. The  good news is that the film has finally been released as a region-free DVD by Fox Cinema Archives , the studio's "Made-On-Demand"  service. The print utilized is adequate but not much more due to certain sequences that display a good deal of grain and/or artifacts but we won't gripe about that, given how long we waited for the DVD release.  The biggest complaint we have is that this is yet another Fox MOD title that was shot in widescreen and released in a matted format that approximates "pan-and-scan". What were they thinking? Whoever makes such decisions is living in a time warp from the 1990s when audiences were unfamiliar with widescreen video presentations. (Remember when TCM had to recruit world famous directors to explain to viewers that, despite the black bars on the screen, the audience was getting the full picture as opposed to a cropped version?) If Fox's MOD division thinks audiences are still reluctant to accept widescreen movies they are wrong. Years ago Wal-mart thought the same thing and demanded that widescreen DVD releases also have a pan-and-scan version released simultaneously. However, they soon learned that consumers overwhelmingly preferred the original widescreen version and the pan-and-scan option quickly vanished. Fox should understand that any consumer who has gone on-line to track down a movie such as "The Big Show" is a purist and would want to see the film its original format. The decision to bypass the widescreen process on "The Big Show" was not an error on someone's part.  The video opens with a notice that the movie has been intentionally "modified" from its original format. The opening titles are presented in their original glory but once the film proper starts, the pan-and-scan version kicks in and you feel your aggravation level rise. Perhaps the film should be re-titled "The Semi-Big Show". The studio has done a service to retro movie lovers by making so many obscure titles available. However it is ironic that Fox, which pioneered the widescreen process in the 1950s, is the last major studio to utilize its benefits when it comes to home video. Cinema Retro has long been championing the quality of MOD titles and trying to dispense with the unfounded notion that they are somehow inferior in quality to regular DVDs. However, we can't condone  altering a film's original format. Fox should realize that consumers who purchase MOD product are extremely sophisticated when it comes to reverence for film history.  C'mon guys, get on the ball  and we'll sing your praises- and while you're at it, please consider including at least a trailer or stills gallery on your bare-bones releases. These type of bonus features are readily available to you and add to the commercial appeal of the releases not to mention the enjoyment of the viewing experience.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM THE CINEMA RETRO MOVIE STORE

BY TIM GREAVES

The 1968 jungle-based adventure The Face of Eve has been released on DVD in the UK as a constituent of 'The British Film' collection from Network.

Hunting for treasure in the Amazon, Mike Yates (Easy Rider's Robert Walker Jr) encounters taciturn, scantily-clad jungle beauty Eve (The Velvet Vampire's Celeste Yarnall) when she rescues him from certain death at the hands of savages. Meanwhile in Spain, Yates's financier – the wheelchair-bound Colonel Stuart (Christopher Lee) – has knowledge of the location of a fabled stash of Incan riches, but he's unaware that his friend and business partner Diego (Herbert Lom) has been plotting to cheat him out of his fortune. Diego has coaxed his wife Conchita (Rosenda Monteros) into infiltrating the household in the guise of Eve, the ailing Stuart's long lost granddaughter and imminent sole heir. After Stuart divulges the treasure's believed location to Diego, the duplicitous pair take off to find it...with Yates, in the company of the real Eve, in hot pursuit.

Emerging from under the wing of legendary and prolific producer Harry Alan Towers – the man behind some marvellous exploitationers throughout the 60s, including a splendid run of Christopher Lee/Fu Manchu chillers, plus Shirley Eaton star vehicle The Million Eyes of Sumuru and its sequel The Girl from Rio – if nothing else The Face of Eve gives audiences an abundance of plot for their money. What it doesn’t deliver is anywhere near enough of its star attraction. The film was directed by Vengeance of Fu Manchu's Jeremy Summers, a jobbing director whose name will probably be most familiar in that capacity to fans of ITC TV shows of the 60s. Towers himself took on scripting duties under his oft-employed nom de plume Peter Welbeck. As such, its pedigree was certainly sound enough. It's just a shame that the resulting film falls short of expectation, largely because, as already touched upon, the pair failed to capitalise on their main asset: Celeste Yarnall.

Following a fistful of appearances in TV shows (among them The Man from U.N.C.L.E, Land of the Giants and Star Trek), as well as blink-and-you'll-miss-her walk-ons in films such as Around the World Under the Sea and The Nutty Professor, 1968 proved to be Yarnall's big screen breakout year when she secured a major role in Elvis starrer Live a Little, Love a Little and, perhaps a tad less prestigiously, the titular role here in The Face of Eve. The actress plays the ‘Sheena Queen of the Jungle’ bit to perfection, clad in an admirably-filled chamois leather bikini that gives the eye-catching attire of other jungle babes (such as Evelyne Kraft, Marion Michael and Tanya Roberts) more than a run for its money. Thus, unsurprisingly, whenever she's on screen she's very much the focal point, amusingly changing hairstyle as often as she does her outfit. The problem is that Eve is side-lined for the middle third of the picture, which relocates to Spain and gets a little bogged down in the despicable duplicities of the Diegos and their mission to separate Stuart from his wealth. So protracted is the business going on here that viewers could be forgiven for wondering if Summers is ever going to get back to the more interesting vicinage of the Amazon.

Beyond the obvious audience-bait of Yarnall (depicted on posters clinging to a jungle vine far more fetchingly than Tarzan ever did), Lee and Lom bring star name lustre to the aid of the party – though the former's age-augmenting makeup falls some distance shy of convincing – and wiry-framed Walker Jr makes for an unlikely but surprisingly affable hero. Fred Clark is good value too as a nightclub owner-cum-showman who smells $’s-to-be-mined by exploiting the newly discovered jungle nymphet, whilst Maria Rohm (Harry Alan Towers’ wife for 45 years up until his death in 2009) lip-syncs a smoochy musical number as a bar-room brawl gets into full swing around her.

Though it’s enjoyable enough for what it is, The Face of Eve is a criminally unremarkable film; one can’t help feeling that its premise should have birthed something with so much more pizazz. Case in point, it was shot in Spain and Brazil, exotic enough locales that regardless of anything else going on should have gifted the production with a ton of spectacle, yet Manuel Merino's resolutely uninspired cinematography renders most of the jungle sequences cheap-looking and dull.

In summation: a really wasted opportunity.

The colours on Network’s 1.66:1 ratio DVD transfer (sourced from the original film elements) are occasionally a little muted, but aside from a slightly ratty opening titles sequence it's a nice clean print. The only bonus feature is a gallery of posters, stills and lobby cards from around the globe.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER

“PURITY OF ESSENCE”

By Raymond Benson

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is such an iconic motion picture that most readers of Cinema Retro, I would bet, already own a copy of this brilliant keepsake of the 1960s on DVD or Blu-ray. The film has been released several times before, but now it gets the Criterion treatment. Believe me—fans of the movie and of director Stanley Kubrick will still want to get this edition. It is definitely an upgrade in quality and the disk also comes with a plethora of fascinating supplements and some terrific goodies in the packaging.

Unless you’ve haven’t been paying attention to the lists of Great Movies You Should See Before You Die, you know that Dr. Strangelove is the story of how an air force general (Sterling Hayden) goes “a little funny in the head... you know, just a little... funny...” and orders one of his bombers to attack Russia in order to preserve our “purity of essence.” To save the day it’s up to an RAF exchange officer (Peter Sellers), the President of the United States (also Sellers), a Hawk-ish general in the Pentagon (George C. Scott), the good-ol’-boy pilot of the bomber itself (Slim Pickens), and a bizarre German nuclear physicist in a wheelchair (Sellers again). Maybe they rescue our planet, maybe they don’t.

Strangelove was Kubrick’s first time out as sole producer, along with serving as director and co-writer. Prior to making the film, he had been partners with James B. Harris, who produced The Killing (1956), Paths of Glory (1957), and Lolita (1962). Kubrick had also done a work-for-hire job for executive producer Kirk Douglas on Spartacus (1960), which he vowed never to do again, but that project afforded him the clout to carve out a subsequent career of total creative freedom. Now as the producer of his own pictures, Kubrick got what he sought. He secured his home base in England, set up a unique and highly personal routine of making films, and proceeded to give us some examples of extraordinary cinema. Strangelove was the first masterpiece out of the gate, and, fortunately, was a critical and box office hit.

It was controversial, too, as are all of Kubrick’s films made since he began producing them himself. At the time, some attacked Strangelove as being a “sick joke.” Nevertheless, it captured the mood of early 1964 and, as Martin Scorsese has said about it, “the word on the street was that it’s terrific.” It was the hip movie to see. It pushed the envelope. It got people talking. It established Kubrick as the hot filmmaker of his day.

In the early 1960s, the director had become obsessed with the arms race, experiencing himself some of the Cold War paranoia that was prevalent in those years, especially after the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. The British novel Red Alert by Peter George came to Kubrick’s attention and he thought it would make a fine basis for a political thriller. He brought in George to co-write, and at first the pair worked with James Harris on the script. At some point during the process, they all started to find funny things about the story. From then on, the screenplay morphed into a comedy—a very black one. In fact, Dr. Strangelove is arguably the definitive black comedy.

Harris eventually left the partnership and went off on his own, leaving Kubrick to produce by himself. That’s about the time Kubrick brought in satirist Terry Southern to polish the work and add some needed dialogue tweaking. The result is one of the most ingenious and original adaptations of a novel in movie history.

The acting and the direction are as perfect as one can get. Production Designer Ken Adam’s ultra-modern sets, especially that of the spectacular War Room, firmly situates the movie in its time and place. Gilbert Taylor’s stark black and white cinematography in the interior settings gives the picture its nightmare qualities, while the hand-held camerawork in the exteriors is effective in creating a documentary/newsreel effect. The editing (by future director Anthony Harvey, but certainly with Kubrick overseeing the work) is razor tight. The director apparently deleted a lot of footage to achieve the comic tension, including a now infamous pie fight in the War Room at the film’s climax because it apparently didn’t fit with the tone of the rest of the movie.

It all comes across with class and panache in Criterion’s new Blu-ray edition. The restored 4K digital transfer is the best I’ve seen. There’s an uncompressed monaural soundtrack, but also an alternate 5.1 Surround Soundtrack presented in DTS-HD Master Audio. The movie has never sounded better.

And then there are the supplements. Criterion provides several new pieces, and some of the best features from previous releases have been ported over as well.

The new supplements include: new interviews with Kubrick scholars Mick Broderick and Rodney Hill, archivist Richard Daniels, camera innovator Joe Dunton and camera operator Kelvin Pike, and Peter George’s son, David George. These all come with film footage and wonderful unseen stills. Previous extras include an excerpt from the tried and true 1966 audio interview with Kubrick by Jeremy Bernstein; four different documentaries about Kubrick, the making of the film, the sociopolitical climate of the period, and actor Sellers (two of which are co-produced by Cinema Retro Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer). There are also 1963 interviews with Sellers and Scott, and an excerpt from a 1980 Gene Shalit interview with Sellers.

Two trailers are included as supplements—the quirky theatrical trailer, which we’ve all seen, and the “exhibitor’s trailer,” which we haven’t. The latter is a little over fifteen minutes long; demonstration reels of this kind were commonplace in those days in order to persuade theaters to book the picture. It’s pretty much a short capsulation of the movie’s story using unedited footage, but what makes it totally cool is that Kubrick himself narrates it. He even makes excuses for a couple of monologue sequences that do not yet include cut-aways to other characters. Fascinating stuff.

Another terrific bonus is the collection of “props” you get inside the packaging—everything comes in a “Plan R” folder like the one used in the film. Inside is a “Top Secret” Memorandum containing an essay by scholar David Bromwich, and a Playboy-style booklet called Strangelove. Tracy Reed, step-daughter of director Sir Carol Reed and the only female in the cast, is on the cover of the booklet and graces a centerfold. The latter is also seen in the movie in a fictional issue of Playboy itself. The booklet’s text is Terry Southern’s 1994 article on the film. Last but not least, you even get a “miniature combination Bible and Russian Phrase Book.”

“A fella could have a good time in Vegas” with this superb release from the Criterion Collection.

CLICK HERE TO  ORDER FROM AMAZON

BY DOUG OSWALD

Once upon a time before cell phones, social media and the internet, there was citizens band radio. CB radio is closely associated with truckers and was used like a cell phone to keep in contact and inform one another on things like speed traps, accidents and road construction in the days before cell phone mobile apps. Trucker lingo like, “10-4 Good Buddy” and “Breaker-Breaker” briefly became a part of the common vernacular due to the popularity of “Trucker” songs that played on Country & Western radio stations throughout the 1970s. Hollywood picked up on the trucker craze incorporating the “Good Old Boy” element and Southern charm with TV series like “Movin’ On” (1974-76) and “B.J. and the Bear” (1978-81) and movies such as “Smoky and the Bandit” (1977) and its sequels.

One of the big radio hits of that era was “Convoy”, released in 1975 by Bill Fries (better known to fans as C.W. McCall). The song reached number one on both the country and pop charts in the U.S. and on the pop charts in the U.K. Hollywood purchased the rights to the song and hired one of the biggest directors of the era to make a movie inspired by the hit novelty song. Co-financed by United Artists and EMI, director Sam Peckinph was given total control over its production, which in hindsight, was a mistake as the movie went millions of dollars over budget and two months behind schedule. The film was released in 1978 just as the trucker craze was fading in popularity, but the movie became the biggest money maker of Peckinpah’s career. Getting the finished production to the screen was no easy feat, as Peckinpah was dealing with his personal addictions and apathy toward the movie, but he filled out the cast and crew with many friends who worked with him on his previous film projects. This prevented studio heads from firing him, as major cast members like Kristofferson threatened to walk from the movie with him.

Kris Kristofferson, Ali MacGraw, Ernest Borgnine and Burt Young all worked with Peckinpah in some of his most memorable movies. “The Wild Bunch” alone is one of the greatest westerns ever made and while one can debate the merits of Peckinpah’s other films, they’re all stamped with the indelible Peckinpah brand. Peckinpah was a flawed man living in the shadow of his greatest achievement, “The Wild Bunch.” “Convoy” is no “Wild Bunch,” but few movies will surpass that classic. “Convoy” was a troubled production from the moment Peckinpah was hired. It started life as a lighthearted action comedy inspired by a hit novelty song that doesn’t have much of a plot. Peckinpah saw the movie as a modern day western with truckers as cowboys standing up to corrupt police, unfair interstate trucking laws and incorporating political satire.

Martin “Rubber Duck” Penwald (Kristofferson) is a non-affiliated trucker opposed to unionization who has a long standing feud with New Mexico sheriff Lyle “Cottonmouth” Wallace (Borgnine). The sheriff sets up speed traps in order to extort cash from truckers as they pass through “his” county. Photo journalist Melissa (MacGraw) is passing through and meets up with Rubber Duck at a local truck stop. What Melissa and Rubber Duck see in each other, not to mention why she’s in New Mexico, isn’t really clear. Melissa sells her car along with most of her belongings, and ends up catching a ride with Rubber Duck after he and about a dozen fellow truckers flee the scene of an old fashioned western bar fight with the sheriff and his deputies.

What follows is over 90 minutes of large trucks driving at high speeds being chased by police through New Mexico desert highways and at times off road through the desert in an apparent protest against unions and big government. The governor and local media get in on the chase and the result is trucks crashing and driving through lots of dust clouds. This eventually builds to the climax involving a National Guard tank blasting Rubber Duck’s truck off a bridge. The desert scenes are interesting with trucks driving through miles of desert in a Peckinpah slow motion ballet. What else is there? Not a whole lot. The movie has a paper thin plot that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

Kristofferson is a serviceable leading man and, as depicted in the poster art, has his shirt off a lot of the time. Burt Young is Bobby “Pig Pen” and Cassie Yates is truck stop waitress Violet. Peckinpah cast a diverse group of actors including Franklyn Ajaye as Spider Mike and Madge Sinclaire as Widow Woman. There’s a racial element introduced as Mike is jailed and beat up by the sheriff’s deputies. Widow Woman ends up sitting in the middle seat between Billy and Whitey Hughes throughout most of the movie after her truck tips over during a sharp turn. This on location accident was incorporated into the story and the result is Widow Woman hitching a ride with the other truck. I think that’s one of the big problems with a movie about truckers – too many shots of characters sitting in a truck. There are a couple of scenes where everyone gets to stretch their legs at a truck stop, but that’s where the trucker movie stops being a trucker movie.

“Convoy” is not for everyone, but it does have its moments. It’s a Sam Peckinpah movie and that has to be worth something. It’s well known that Peckinpah was dealing with alternating bouts of alcohol and cocaine addiction throughout his career which certainly had a definite impact on his movies. The real reason for buying this new Blu-ray release by Kino Lorber are for the generous supplements including an audio commentary by film historians and Peckinpah experts Paul Seydor, Garner Simmons and Nick Redman. The commentary is filled with anecdotes and personal reminisces on Peckinpah, on the cast and crew as well as details on the production. Their outstanding commentary opens up the movie and brings to life the world of Sam Peckinpah. Kino Lorber didn’t stop there and also include a 73 minute documentary on the making of “Convoy,” deleted scenes, a montage of in-jokes and cameos, radio spots, trailers, a promotional featurette, a stills gallery and an interesting feature by a fan expert from Norway. The movie apparently has a substantial cult following outside of America.

McCall re-recorded “Convoy”, incorporating the plot and characters from the movie and it briefly made its way to the top of the pop charts again. This new version can be heard during the end credits. The Kino Blu-ray looks and sounds very good and is a breezy, easy going experience which trucks in at 110 minutes. Peckinpah fans will enjoy this release for the outstanding and generous supplements. Fans of the “good old boy” trucker genre will also be entertained.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

BURBANK, CA (April 11, 2016) – Just in time for Father's Day and the theatrical release, Warner Bros. Home Entertainment will release the long awaited animated series that aired when Saturday Morning Cartoons reigned supreme. Available on DVD on June 14, 2016, Tarzan, Lord Of The Jungle: Complete Season One was created by the Filmation Studio for CBS and follows the animated adventures of Edgar Rice Burroughs' ape man from the 1970's. The two-disc collectors set includes all 16 episodes from the series’ first season, and is priced to own at $19.98 SRP. The DVD has an order due date of May 3, 2016.

As the opening narration explains: "The jungle: Here I was born; and here my parents died when I was but an infant. I would have soon perished, too, had I not been found by a kindly she-ape named Kala, who adopted me as her own and taught me the ways of the wild. I learned quickly, and grew stronger each day, and now I share the friendship and trust of all jungle animals. The jungle is filled with beauty, and danger; and lost cities filled with good, and evil. This is my domain, and I protect those who come here; for I am Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle!"

“Tarzan, Lord Of The Jungle was animated the old fashion way, with many hours of hand drawn stills," said Mary Ellen Thomas, Vice President Family & Animation Marketing and Partner Brands. "They don't make animation like this anymore, and we are really proud to be releasing this timeless classic just in time for the July release of Tarzan in theaters."

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

BY DIANE A. RODGERS

As the introduction explains, this is not an attempt at a definitive guide but rather to be a companion piece to some of the films released on the Arrow label; to extend enjoyment and expand upon some of the cult material for fans old and new.  A significant portion of the text here has been recycled from Arrow's already-published DVD and Blu-Ray booklets, but this is made clear from the outset (also noted throughout where relevant) and collectors may appreciate the comprehensive assortment here in book form nonetheless, alongside new and extended discussions.

Arrow Video's book provides a whistle-stop tour of the great and the good of cult, horror and genre cinema here, arranged nicely into sub-sections focusing on cult movies, directors, actors, genres and distribution respectively. An overview of the topics conjures up a nostalgic mixture of fare presented on cult TV shows like Videodrome, or The Incredibly Strange Film Show; as director Ben Wheatley aptly notes in his foreword, "I'm profoundly jealous of anybody coming fresh to the back catalogue of world and genre cinema. It's mind expanding and f*****g great." Long standing cult film fans may well be more than happy to revisit examinations of Deep Red, Zombie Flesh Eaters, Withnail and I, The 'Burbs and others whilst those just beginning to discover these hidden pleasures (of whom I share Ben Wheatley's envy) are well directed toward classic gems.

Directors like David Cronenberg, Tinto Brass, Wes Craven and George A. Romero are deservedly examined; whilst it is glorious to see Lloyd Kaufman (of Troma films) included in such an illustrious list, it is a shame that no female directors are noted. This is redressed somewhat in the section on actors, with the inclusion of chapters on Meiko Kaji and Pam Grier alongside Vincent Price and Boris Karloff. Cult sub-genres under review range from the well-known spaghetti western and giallo through to the less-obvious Brazilian 1970s sexploitation genre 'Pornochanchada' and Canuxploitation (post-1990s Canadian B-movies), amongst others. The final section on distribution is good to see, as the mechanics behind and social context of cult cinema can often be at least interesting as the films themselves. These chapters provide overviews of the early days of cult and exploitation cinema, a look at the Super-8 format, film festivals, fanzines and the more recent Asian DVD explosion.

It is a shame that in a glossy presentation like this, clearly aimed at fans, where film posters are presented near full-page, the decision has been made to treat images of film stills like columns of text, split in half with a thick white line. Nonetheless, this is a very clear and accessible look at cult cinema, with the inclusion of some less obvious subject matter alongside must-see classics which would remiss to exclude in a companion such as this.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

“MAYBE WE’VE GOT SOMETHING HERE...”

By Raymond Benson

When Larry Levy (Peter Gallagher), an up-and-coming young Hollywood studio exec suggests in a meeting that writers could be eliminated and “any old news story” could be adapted to provide a movie idea—“it would write itself”—Griffin Mill (Tim Robbins), the guy at the studio who usually takes story pitches from screenwriters, replies, “...what an interesting concept it is to eliminate the writer from the artistic process. If we could just get rid of these actors and directors, maybe we’ve got something here.”

Such is the satirical tone of The Player, which is easily my favorite film of 1992. It’s a mystery why it wasn’t nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, but the Academy did honor the film with a Best Director nod for Robert Altman, Best Adapted Screenplay for Michael Tolkin (also co-producer), and Best Film Editing (Geraldine Peroni). Like 1950’s Sunset Boulevard, The Player takes potshots at the movie industry and skewers—fairly lightly—Hollywood.

Director Altman obviously had a good time with this one. He had spent the 1980s on the outs with Hollywood after the 1970s, the years in which Altman enjoyed some of his greatest acclaim (M*A*S*H, Nashville, among others). He had reason to exhibit a somewhat cynical attitude toward Tinsel Town, and probably could have gone further with the acerbic jabs The Player gives to its subject matter. Instead, Altman plays it cool and delivers a mildly critical treatise on the way movies are made, and provides a darned good noir-ish murder mystery as well.

The story involves Mill, superbly played by Robbins, who is receiving death threats from an unknown screenwriter. Mill thinks he knows who it is, and he goes to confront the guy (Vincent D’Onofrio). There’s a fight—and Mill accidentally kills the writer. Mill spends the rest of the movie covering up the crime, avoiding the police investigating the case (Whoopi Goldberg and Lyle Lovett), and romancing the dead writer’s girlfriend, June (Greta Scacchi). In the meantime, Mill’s job is threatened by the previously-mentioned Levy, who has begun to attend meetings to which Mill isn’t invited. The Player is part satire-comedy, part 40’s-style noir (but in color), and all bravura filmmaking.

Altman directed a handful of masterpieces, and this is one of them. Although it’s not one of his signature “ensemble” films—there are really only six main characters—the picture arguably could be called his ultimate ensemble film because around sixty celebrities appear as themselves in cameos (Malcolm McDowell, Cher, Burt Reynolds, Buck Henry, Bruce Willis, Julia Roberts, Lily Tomlin, Scott Glen, Jack Lemmon, Nick Nolte, Elliott Gould, Harry Belafonte, and many more). As a testament to the respect with which they held Altman, these people donated their time as a favor.

The movie is also known for its spectacular opening eight minutes, a crane shot that moves around the studio lot with no cuts, similar to what Orson Welles did at the beginning of Touch of Evil (1958). All through The Player, there are nods and winks to movie insider trivia. The posters on the walls of the studio offices where Mill works are only classics from the 1930s and 40s, mostly film noir titles, slyly suggesting to the audience what we’re watching. Altman is really saying, “You’re watching a movie, folks, and we’re going to play it up.” This is never more evident in the fact that the first thing we see is a clapboard, and we hear the voice of the director calling, “Action!”

The Criterion Blu-ray comes with a new 4K digital restoration that looks fantastic. It has a 2.0 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack, and an audio commentary from 1992 featuring Altman, Tolkin, and cinematographer Jean Lépine.

There is a wealth of fascinating supplements. A new documentary on the making of the film features interviews with Robbins, Tolkin, associate producer David Levy, and production designer Stephen Altman (the director’s son). The original hour long press conference from the 1992 Cannes Film Festival is included. There’s a vintage interview with Altman, as well as a short documentary about the shooting of the film’s fund-raiser scene that contains many of the cameos. A helpful gallery of stills from the picture also helps to identify the many cameo appearances. There are a few deleted scenes and outtakes, and a deconstruction of the opening shot with alternate commentaries—one by Altman, and another by Tolkin and Lépine. Trailers and TV spots round up the extras, along with an essay in the booklet by author Sam Wasson.

The Player is one for the history books. As the original Blu-ray is out of print, the new Criterion edition is a must-have. The film represents Robert Altman’s masterful “comeback” to Hollywood, and it set him on an even course for the rest of his colorful career.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

“THE ESSENTIALS”—A GOOD STARTING POINT

By Raymond Benson

Any book that claims to be a collection of the “best” of something—whether it is a listing of movies, music, art, and so forth—has to be taken with a grain of salt. These kinds of things are entirely subjective; although in this case, TCM (Turner Classic Movies) does have a kind of clout and expertise in the matter.

That said, we have this beautifully-designed and illustrated coffee-table trade paperback that contains not 1000, not 100, not 50... but 52 “essential must-see movies.” TCM’s spokesperson, Robert Osborne, explains the criteria in his Foreword—“The Essentials” is a weekly Saturday night event on the television network in which a guest host (the likes of Rob Reiner, Sydney Pollack, Peter Bogdanovich, Drew Barrymore, and more) introduce a picture he or she believes is an Essential. The book is a collection of some of these Essentials, with some sidebar comments by the various hosts who appeared on the program.

The big question is... why 52? Why not an even 50? Why not 100? Aha! It’s meant to be a movie-each-week. Fifty-two weeks in a year, one Essential per week.

Certainly every single entry in the book is indeed an essential must-see motion picture. No question about it. Of the 52 included, I personally own 47 of them on DVD or Blu-ray in my home library and have of course seen the others. Author Jeremy Arnold does a superb job presenting the reasons why a particular film matters, and it’s not easy to vary superlatives, which are what it takes to describe these great works of celluloid.

Yes, the ones you expect are there—City Lights, It Happened One Night, Gone with the Wind, Citizen Kane, Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, Singin’ in the Rain, Rear Window, The Searchers, Lawrence of Arabia, Jaws... as well as a few that I was particularly happy to see listed (Duck Soup, King Kong, Double Indemnity, The Bicycle Thief, Seven Samurai, Dr. Strangelove, Once Upon a Time in the West, Annie Hall...).

Fair enough, although after going through the book, one can’t help but think, but what about ___? Why isn’t The Godfather an Essential? 2001: A Space Odyssey? The Wizard of Oz? A Bergman? A Scorsese? A Fellini? I found myself scratching my head in befuddlement at the lack of some truly significant mentions. There is also nothing more recent than 1984’s This is Spinal Tap, although it’s understandable that many pictures from the 70s and beyond might not be included because TCM doesn’t have the rights to broadcast them.

Okay, so forget about what’s missing and concentrate on what’s there. Once a reader decides to do that, then The Essentials is an entertaining read and, in fact, a lot of fun. Arnold does manage to mention other titles not contained in the book that may have been influenced by one that is. The book also has some great stills, both color and black and white.

For a preliminary “bucket list” of must-see movies, especially for younger aficionados who might want to get a jump start on their film history class, The Essentials is a good place to start.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

Ed Mason, who ran the film fairs at Westminster Central Hall for over 18 years has suddenly died, leaving behind him an enormous legacy with the film fairs and the shop he had on King’s Road in London for a great many years.

Being part of the film fairs since they started back in September 1973, he was responsible for introducing the now-highly collectable Belgian posters with their great art work to the UK, and kept the world of original film memorabilia going all through his life. Ed was also responsible for bringing over the best poster and stills dealers from Europe and America to his London collector fairs, which also influenced the opening of many cinema shops both in London and around the country.

In the late 1980’s and early 90’s Ed Mason organised the first public autograph signings at Westminster, where Caroline Munro , Ingrid Pitt and Suzanna Leigh did their first autograph events. Others, like Dave Prowse , Michael Ripper and Shirley Anne Field followed.

The legacy left by Ed Mason is carried on by Thomas Bowington at Westminster, with the London Film Convention six times a year, with it’s themed shows and annual “ Hammer Horror Film Day “, The James Bond and Carry On specials among them. Caroline Munro , Dave Prowse and Shirley Anne Field still attend the shows and are as popular at Westminster as they were over 20 years ago, with many of the legendary dealers such as Martin and Philip Masheter and Al Reuter still in attendance.

Ed Mason’s knowledge about all things film and film memorabilia had few, if no equals. To those who knew him he was always a most fair, reliable, kind and helpful man. The best and most supportive of friends, a mentor, and almost a father figure for many.

He was truly a Master – Mason.

BY DARREN ALLISON

Arrow’s commitment to Pam Grier and her Blaxploitation films of the seventies continues with their latest package Sheba, Baby (1975). By the arrival of the mid-Seventies Grier was at the top of her game, coming off such genre classics as Coffy (1973) and Foxy Brown (1974) both directed by Jack Hill and both of which are also available in superb releases from Arrow. Grier’s work for AIP continued in explosive, fashionable style with Sheba, Baby and with new director William Girdler at the helm. Sheba is without doubt a star vehicle that was tailor made for exploiting Grier’s talents.

Sheba Shayne is a Chicago private eye who receives a telegram informing her of trouble in her hometown of Louisville. The local mob boss, Pilot (D'Urville Martin) has started to turn up the heat in trying to obtain her father’s loan business. Along with her father Andy (Rudy Challenger), the business is run by his partner Brick Williams (Austin Stoker), an instantly recognisable actor and best known perhaps as Lt. Ethan Bishop from John Carpenter's cult classic Assault on Precinct 13 (1976). After several threats and a near fatal car bomb, Sheba soon realises that the situation is becoming desperately out of control.

Despite a few shaky moments in the script (credited to director Girdler and producer David Sheldon), the film is carried in every respect by Grier’s scintillating screen presence, she truly bosses the film, and looks fantastic in every frame. It’s a film that should be enjoyed without too much scrutinising; accept it purely on its surface level and you’ll find yourself smiling a whole lot and lapping up the action. If your intention is to analyse it, then forget it. If you scrutinise the problems in terms of continuity of dates, Sheba’s small quantity of luggage (there’s a costume change in practically every scene), etc, then you’ll be missing out on the action and overlooking its pure entertainment value. The action scenes are plentiful and arrive fast and furious. Was this film actually rated as PG upon its release? Look out for the car that spins wildly off a grass verge, then look again to see how it misses Grier (on the assumption it was her and not a stunt double) by a matter of inches. It is a pure adrenalin pumping sequence. Yes, the film might be considered as routine and stereotypical, even offensive in relation to its language (the ‘N’ word raises its ugly head on several occasions), and the mob are of course pimped to the max. But you’d be wise to let it go, as this is, after all, a product of its time, and yes, it was almost considered as socially tolerated in the more discriminate social culture of the seventies.

Arrow’s 1080p presentation of Sheba, Baby can only be described as flawless. The picture quality is as near to pristine as you could ever wish. Whist it retains a generic low budget look, its colour grading delivers both a natural look and just enough enhancement to emphasise those wonderful vivid colours of the fashions and the times. The whole look manages to achieve a perfect balance. Check out the film’s opening credits, the pin sharp yellow lettering almost pops out from the screen. If they look familiar, you might just make the comparison with Jackie Brown (1997), as director Quentin Tarantino uses the exact same colour and font for his own Pam Grier movie. It’s not only homage, but a deeper example of how Tarantino holds these movies so close to his heart. The Blu-ray audio (original mono uncompressed PCM) is clean and clear throughout, and allows the film’s soulful score (by Alex Brown and Monk Higgins) to become an integral part of the experience. There are also a couple of great vocals tracks (including the theme) provided by the American R&B/soul singer Barbara Mason.

Arrow’s bonus material is both enjoyable and generous. First, there are two audio commentaries, the first featuring producer-screenwriter David Sheldon and moderated by critic Nathaniel Thompson. The second is provided by Patty Breen the webmaster of WilliamGirdler.com. Breen’s commentary is actually a great deal of fun; it’s a completely relaxed ‘fan’ style narration. Whilst Breen can’t help joking about the film’s flaws and inconsistencies, it is never in malice and it’s clear she absolutely adores every aspect of the movie.

Sheldon: Baby (15mins) is a brand new interview with David Sheldon who discusses his role and his experience working on the movie and alongside director William Girdler. Pam Grier: The AIP Years (12mins) does exactly what it says on the tin and takes a look over the wonder years of the Blaxploitation queen with film historian Chris Poggiali. The original theatrical trailer (2mins) and a selection of publicity shots and lobby cards rounds off a very nice collection of bonus material.

Arrow’s packaging consists of a reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Sean Phillips, while the booklet features brand new writing on the film by Patty Breen and is illustrated with both archive stills and posters.

Overall, Sheba, Baby is an excellent package and one that leaves us in hope that Arrow will continue to explore Grier’s later American international Pictures such as Bucktown (1975) and Friday Foster (1975). There’s little doubt that they would certainly be welcomed and appreciated with open arms.

Technical Spec: Region: Region A/B Blu-ray / DVD 1/2, Rating: 15, Cat No: FCD1210, Duration: 90 mins, Language: English, Subtitles: English SDH, Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1, Audio: Mono, Discs: 2, Colour

CLICK HERE TO ORDER (UK READERS)

U.S. READERS, CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

BY DOUG OSWALD

Randolph Scott plays a bounty hunter returning a former Indian captive in “Comanche Station,” a 1960 Columbia release directed by Bud Boetticher and written by western regular Burt Kennedy.

Jefferson Cody (Scott) trades rifles and other items with a group of Comanche Indians in exchange for a captive settler, Nancy Lowe (Nancy Gates). Her husband has offered a large reward for her return. After the exchange they’re met by outlaw Ben Lane (Claude Akins) and his sidekicks Frank (Skip Homeier) and Dobie (Richard Rust) who help Cody during an Indian attack at Comanche Station. Lane and Cody are old enemies and he and his men have been searching for Nancy. Lane wants a piece of the $5,000 reward in return for helping protect Nancy on the journey to her husband. Cody reluctantly agrees and forms an uneasy alliance due to the Indian threat.

Cody befriends Dobie, who wants to be his own man rather than the sidekick to the outlaw Lane.. Cody and Nancy form a friendship which Lane sees as an opportunity to get under Cody’s skin. He plots to return Nancy on his own and collect the reward, but he knows Cody is a better shot and the better man.

The Indians are threatening and portrayed by Native Americans rather than red-faced Caucasian extras. They’re talked about more than seen and when they are seen they’re mostly on horseback and only a modest threat to Cody and Lane. Lane is the real threat and Cody predicts the outcome as Lane’s men are killed and the movie ends with the thrilling, if predictable, gunfight between Cody and Lane on the edge of a rocky cliff.

The movie is a little gem overall with excellent location photography beautifully shot in CinemaScope by Charles Lawton, Jr. There’s also tight direction by Boetticher and strong performances by Scott, Akins and the rest of the cast. The movie was apparently shot in 12 days in the California desert, but the very short running time of 70 minutes doesn’t hurt, as it ensures that things move at a brisk pace.

This was the final film for Ranown, the production company formed by Scott and producer Harry Joe Brown. Scott announced his retirement from movies after this release. Fortunately, Scott returned for one more movie, “Ride the High Country,” in 1962. Generally regarded as a classic of the genre, Scott retired for good after that.

This region 2 German release includes both German and the original English audio. The CinemaScope picture and sound quality on this release are both terrific. While the movie has a running time barely over an hour, there’s a lot packed into the 70 minute running time which is also an excuse to watch it as part of a double feature. The movie was previously available as part of the 2008 DVD set, “The Bud Boetticher Collection.” The only extra carried over from that release is the original trailer in English. This German release also includes a slide show stills gallery of original advertising material which is accompanied by cues from the score. Well worth the time for fans of classic westerns, Bud Boetticher and Randolph Scott.

(Explosive Media titles are primarily available through Amazon Germany. However, imports can often be found on eBay and Amazon in other countries. Although officially a “region 2” title, many of readers report that Explosive Media titles play fine on their region 1 players.) 

BY LEE PFEIFFER

"Gunman's Walk" is another obscure Western gem that has been given new life through a Blu-ray release by German-based Explosive Media. The 1958 production was filmed in CinemaScope, the widescreen process that studios relied on to combat the newly-evolved threat of television. Director Phil Karlson makes  the most of the format and captures the grandeur of the open plains of Arizona and mountainous regions of California for a story of a dysfunctional family that manages to fracture even further despite the abundance of wealth it enjoys. Van Heflin plays Lee Hackett, a one-time pioneer who endured every kind of hardship and struggle to establish a ranch in hostile Indian territory. Over the years he became a state-wide legend by triumphing over adversity and by building a modest cattle ranch into an empire. Lee also helped establish the town which has now grown appreciably. Consequently he carries a lot of weight and political power with the locals. The story opens with Lee as a middle-aged widower who has two grown sons. Davy Hackett (James Darren) is the younger, a quiet, relatively shy young man with a thoughtful disposition. He is the polar opposite of his older brother Ed (Tab Hunter), an arrogant, mean-spirited person who is constantly getting into trouble. Lee prides himself on being a strict disciplinarian over his boys but in reality they realize that his bark is worse than his bite. (He even encourages them to call him by his first name.) Much to Davy's frustration, Lee constantly uses his influence to get Ed out of trouble. If he can't do it legally, he'll use bribery or intimidation.Even while Lee dotes over his eldest son, Ed has plenty of "daddy issues" with his father. He resents that he has been handed everything on a silver platter. He also is fed up with Lee's ego and constant self-aggrandizement for having endured Indian battles, gun fights and the extremities of nature in order to build and protect his business. Ed also accuses his father of wanting him under his control so that he'll never have the opportunity to become his own man and possibly exceed his Lee's achievements. Despite this tense relationship, Lee continues to spoil his eldest son even as he hopes he can exert a positive influence on him.

When Lee and his sons lead a major cattle drive into town the family relaxes afterward by living it up a bit. Lee and Ed don't adhere to the local sheriff's (Robert F. Simon) edict that no one can carry a gun in town and the sheriff is too intimidated to challenge them. Almost immediately Ed gets into trouble by getting drunk, frequenting prostitutes and insulting people- but things are about to get worse. On the prairie Ed and a local ranch hand who is a Sioux engage in what starts as a good-natured race to see who can rope a much-desired white stallion. When the other man threatens to win the prize, Ed shoves him and his horse over the side of a cliff, resulting in the man's death. Ed claims it was an accident but two other Sioux secretly witnessed the incident and report it to the sheriff, who finds his backbone and arrests Ed for murder. However Lee rides to the rescue again and gets his son off the hook by bribing a stranger to say he witnessed the incident and it was indeed an accident. But Ed doesn't learn his lesson and continues to cause trouble- this time with deadly consequences. 

Despite being saddled with a "B" movie title, "Gunman's Walk" is a highly compelling, intelligently written drama that is packed with tension thanks to the able direction of Phil Karlson. The script addresses a number of hot-button issues such as abuse of wealth and the ugliness of racism, which were topics not usually covered in Westerns of the period. The film also affords Tab Hunter a role that has far more depth than the one dimensional hunks he was often saddled with playing. As Ed, he is a tragic figure- a man to be despised, yet pitied. Hunter gives a fine performance, at times managing to be charismatic and almost likable before spiraling back into villainy. He's more than matched by old pro Van Heflin, who gives a wonderfully nuanced performance as a man who created his own living hell by over-indulging the son he loves so much. James Darren is capable but rather unexciting as the younger brother, but the part doesn't have much meat to it to begin with. Katherine Grant is fine as a young woman who Darren is trying to romance despite the fact that she is half-Sioux and is looked upon as inferior by his brother and father. As with most Westerns of this era, the cast is peppered with fine character actors. Among them: Mickey Shaughnessy, Robert F. Simon, Ray Teal and Edward Platt. In all, "Gunman's Walk" is a truly fine Western that has been unjustly overlooked for decades. 

The Explosive Media Blu-ray is top-notch, as is generally the case with this company's releases. It includes both English and German dubbed versions of the movie along with an interesting stills gallery accompanied by Tab Hunter crooning the Western song "Runaway", which he sings in a pivotal sequence in the film.

(Explosive Media titles are primarily available through Amazon Germany. However, you can often find imports available on eBay and other Amazon sites around the globe. Explosive Media Blu-rays are region free.)  

BY TIM GREAVES

Let's begin by making one thing clear: The animated opening titles sequence of The Amorous Prawn (U.S. title: The Amorous Mr. Prawn) aside – which features a pair of flirtatious cartoon crustaceans flitting around the screen – there isn't a single prawn to be found in director Anthony Kimmins' lukewarm 1962 farce, let alone an amative one. The title in fact references the nickname of one of the film's secondary characters, a rakish lothario played by Dennis Price.

The thrust of the story actually concerns Dodo (Joan Greenwood), the wife of General Sir Hamish Fitzadam (Cecil Parker) and her resourceful scheme to scare up some quick cash to help fund his impending retirement. The couple live on a sparsely manned Army base in the Scottish Highlands, and when Hamish is sent overseas on business Dodo sets into motion 'Operation Lolly', opening up the house and expansive grounds of the base as a salmon fishing holiday destination for American tourists. She bribes Corporal Sydney Green (Ian Carmichael) and the other members of the small on-site platoon to disguise the building's military purposes and assist in her plans by posing as hotel staff. Naturally the subterfuge is a recipe for calamitous misunderstandings.

If The Amorous Prawn exudes the whiff of theatrical buffoonery – and not of the particularly amusing variety at that – it should come as no surprise to learn that it first saw life as a stage play written by none other than director Kimmins himself. Yet, to be fair, what it lacks in laughs it manages to compensate for with a modicum of amiable charm. Ian Carmichael is always watchable (even if his character here is a tad less endearing than those he played in the likes of School for Scoundrels and Double Bunk) and there are a number of stalwart Brit reliables on hand to imbue the proceedings with a mien of comforting familiarity, among them Derek Nimmo (whose portrayal of Private Willie Maltravers is more camp than a row of tents), Finlay Currie, Geoffrey Bayldon, Gerald Sim and Michael Ripper. Meanwhile Liz Fraser brings her stock in trade bosomy blonde sex appeal to the party, though she's very nearly upstaged in the glam department by one of Price's squeezes, barmaid 'Busty Babs' (Sandra Dorne).

Today The Amorous Prawn's primary audience will reside either among nostaligia-seekers who remember it from its original run round the circuit, or those with a fondness for unassuming Sunday afternoon fare. Supported by one of John Barry's earliest scores, fans of the composer may also be drawn to investigate, though it should be said that his work here falls well shy of his more distinguished endeavours.

The film comes to DVD in the UK from Network, the crisp transfer serving DoP Wilkie Cooper's black and white photography marvellously. Though not in a position to clarify – I've seen the film just once before – it should be noted that some material has allegedly gone AWOL from this release, apparently amounting to some 3-minutes’ worth of footage. The film was certainly subjected to BBFC-imposed cuts back in 1962 in order to secure a 'U' certificate, but given that a fleeting (though startlingly graphic) glimpse of frontal male nudity when a Scotsman's kilt rides up is present and correct in this 'U' certificate DVD release, one would have to wonder what could possibly be missing. The only bonus feature is a generous gallery of production stills, front of house cards and artwork, some of which bears the film's alternate titles The Amorous Mr Prawn and The Playgirl and the War Minister.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER 

Satanic Panic: Pop Cultural Paranoia in the 1980s

Ed. Kier-La Janisse & Paul Corupe (2015) Spectacular Optical Publications

www.spectacularoptical.ca

ISBN: 978-0992-146313

$29.95 CAN / £17.95 UK

Review by Diane Rodgers

Those around in the 1980s may well remember hysteria about 'video nasties' and the fevered destruction of records in America bearing the (then new) Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics label, fuelled by fears of a pervading obsession with evil amongst youth and popular culture. Satanic Panic studies this moral frenzy from a vast array of perspectives in fascinating depth, outlining the fears of anxious parents and a confused mainstream culture about teens supposedly embroiled in Satanic cults and potentially carrying out ritual abuse, devil worship, suicide or murder at any given moment.

Following the rise of interest in the occult from the 1960s onward, it's easy to see why Reagan's America, still reeling from the confusion of Vietnam and the implications for the 'American Dream', morality and family values, latched onto something so easily sensationalised as a scapegoat to blame for all of society's problems. Satanic Panic builds this picture brilliantly throughout; each chapter looks at a different aspect of pop-culture - specific films, comics, music, TV, RPGs, infamous trials, MTV, home video, evangelists and preachers, but never dwells on already well-trodden subjects; the editors have gone to some lengths to find plenty of material covering new ground.

Films like Evilspeak (1981) and 976-EVIL (1988) consider adult anxieties fantasised onto youth culture and their apparent susceptibility to 'techno devilry'. Kevin Ferguson suggests that the real hidden fear is the invasion of telephone and computer technology in the home. Role playing games like Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) are case studies which faced significant and widespread criticism from Christian detractors who saw the gaming community as "a Satanic conspiracy threatening society". Gavin Baddeley (once offered an honorary priesthood by satanic cult leaderAnton LaVey) discusses an outspoken D&D detractor Christian personality William Schnoebelen who, by his own admission, used to be a Satanist and a vampire before becoming 'born again' and evangelising on the evils of RPGs. More often than not, here and throughout the book, it is shown to be these detractors (rather than the merely rebellious teen participants), who believe in the power of the supernatural and the evils of magic in a very real way and thus cause plenty of harm themselves.

Paul Corupe covers the Christian comic art of Jack T. Chick who, amongst many dubious choices, gave a platform to controversial figure Dr. Rebecca Brown who lost her medical licence in 1984 for misdiagnosing patients (blaming sickness on demon manifestations and witchcraft, amongst other causes), suffering herself from paranoid schizophrenia and demonic delusions. Satanic Panic 's host of writers (including experts, enthusiasts and academics) frequently argue the case successfully; the loudest detractors of the 'Satanic Panic' were actually often the ones causing damage, and usually in their pursuit for fame, greed or notoriety. There are serious cases here; that of Michelle Smith and her notorious Michelle Remembers memoir (1980), co-written by therapist Dr. Lawrence Pazder, about Satanic ritual abuse, detailing physical, psychological and sexual torture. From the evidence Alexandra Heller-Nicholas gives, Pazder cashed in on and sensationalised what may have been a far more unremarkable but no less tragic case of child abuse. The infamous case of Ricky Kasso (who savagely murdered a fellow teen in 1984) is also highlighted for discussion, influential on films like River's Edge (1986) and songs by bands like Sonic Youth (Satan is Boring, 1985).

It is easy to forget the size of such a moral panic from almost 40 years ago, but Joshua Benjamin Graham's 'Fundamentalist readings of occult in cartoons of the 1980s' is a reminder of its full extent; it seems laughable now that worry about violence and Satanism was so widespread at the time that people thought a cartoon He-Man calling on the power of Greyskull actually meant that "our children are being taught by TV today to call on demons..."! Stacy Rusnak's perceptive analysis of the demonization of MTV details battles over (American) family values and moral issues like abortion, pornography and drugs and how the explosion of music video was challenging to the dominant hegemony. Rusnak explains how MTV gave strong anti-authoritarian representation to the jeans, leather jacket and shaggy hair generation and thus became a target in itself for Tipper Gore and other wives of high-ranking members of Congress who founded the Parent's Music Resource Centre (PMRC) ; "as though MTV was more accountable for America's children than the parents".

A centrepiece to the book, and the entire Satanic moral panic itself, is Alison Lang's chapter on the Geraldo Rivera TV special Devil Worship: Exposing Satan's Underground (1988). Most chapters in the book at least refer to this inflammatory show, due to its notoriety and influence on the outrage of the time, which the New York Times described as an "obscene masquerade". From Lang's description, Rivera's programme sounds like Chris Morris' Brasseye Paedogeddon! special (2001), an intentionally outrageous parody of tabloid TV on yet another moral panic of the modern age. However, this doesn't make Rivera's reportage any less shocking. His scandalous claim of 1 million practising Satanists in America carrying out sex abuse pornography and satanic ritual abuse (which Lang points out was a phenomenon since debunked by FBI) was entirely unsubstantiated. Rivera uses no scientific or academic evidence for his claims, but rather conjecture, opinion and bullying to extract rapid fire soundbites from his guests, requesting they use words of "... no more than two syllables - we're dealing with an audience with the mental capacity of 13-year-olds here". From contemptuous to downright offensive, Lang summarises Rivera's show as hilarious and troubling; pure sensationalist 'entertainment'.

Many chapters in the book concern music, film or pure pulp fiction that were intended as such 'exploitainment', cashing in on the easily sensationalised, but the outrage and hysteria caused are clearly where the danger lies in Satanic Panic. The book is a mine of information with plenty of full-page images, posters and stills to whet your appetite further, with a deliciously glossy set of full colour images at the back. Topics cover everything relevant from the kitsch, fun and tabloid to sincerely perceptive and philosophical, I already have a rapidly growing must-see list of films, comics and TV specials to follow up next!

It is important to remember seriously, however, that for every perceptive adult that sees such a movement of purported Satanism as merely a teenage "... rejection against the standards their parents represent..." (as Leslie Hatton quotes Revered Graham Walworth, a pastor local to the Ricky Kasso case), there will be an outraged Tipper Gore or fundamentalist group looking for something or someone to blame for all societal problems. Lisa Ladoucer, writing about the PMRC and heavy metal, cites the devastating case of the West Memphis Three. Three teenagers were tried, convicted and jailed for almost 20 years for the murder of three young boys based on no real evidence other than a suspicion that one of the teens may be a devil worshipper as he had expressed interest in metal music and the occult; new DNA evidence led to their release in 2011. That, Ladoucer writes, "...is the power of Satan."

BY DARREN ALLISON

The Best of Benny Hill 1974 Region 2 DVD Review: Directed by John Robins. Starring Benny Hill, Henry McGee, Bob Todd, Patricia Hayes, Jackie Wright and Nicholas Parsons.

The early Seventies saw Benny Hill at the very top of his game. He was a unique figure and a giant among comedy acts. Hill’s diverse range of hugely memorable characters, his sketches and songs propelled him to stardom and made him a worldwide household name. The Best of Benny Hill was released theatrically in 1974, a hilarious compilation of sketches culled from his early Thames Television years 1969-1973. All of the film’s featured sketches are from the television episodes produced and directed by John Robins.

The Best of Benny Hill brings back many precious memories. While many of the sketches would today no doubt find themselves labelled as either politically incorrect or simply out of touch, you ultimately look upon them with a genuine sense of innocence. Arguably, the late Sixties and early Seventies were more liberating and promiscuous times. Hill’s sketches were reflective of that. It was simple fun with no real offending agenda. Yes, it was cheeky, saucy fun - the type of which you would find on a Bamforth seaside postcard.

It’s the sheer diversity of Hill’s characters that makes this compilation so entertaining, Pierre De Tierre the Avant-Garde French film director, Fred Scuttle’s health farm and “Keep Fit Brigade” sketches all remain prime examples of Hill’s simple but highly infectious comedy. There’s also Tommy Tupper in Tupper-Time, Hill’s hilarious parody of Simon Dee and the chat show Dee Time. Check out Hill trying to contain his laughter throughout this sketch, it is both endearing and priceless. Of course, it shouldn’t be overlooked that a great deal of the success was also due to Hill’s reliable and regular stable of support actors. Brian Todd, Henry McGee and Jackie Wright as Hill’s ‘straight men’ were all highly credible and essential to his comedy routines.

Released as part of Network’s British Film Collection, The Best of Benny Hill is featured in a brand new transfer from the original film elements. Presented in its original aspect ratio of 1.33:1, the picture looks impressive. There are a few vertical scratches (during a couple of studio sketches) which were of course shot on tape and where such minor defects are to be expected. The film elements (originally shot on 16mm) look very nice and the mono audio track is clear throughout. The special features include the original theatrical trailer and a selection of stills and promotional material in the image gallery.

Overall, The Best of Benny Hill is a wonderful time capsule that provides a hugely enjoyable 83 minutes of laughter, and perhaps a welcome reminder of more simple times. As a collective, it serves as perfect showcase and a lasting tribute to a much missed comedy genius.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER

Cinema Retro has asked author Michael Richardson to write an exclusive article for us regarding what influenced him to write his new book "The Making of Casino Royale". 

BY MICHAEL RICHARDSON

The sixties James Bond spoof Casino Royale was a psychedelic multi-storylined extravaganza of improvisation and the constant rewriting of various screenplays, brought about after negotiations between producer Charles K Feldman, Eon Productions, United Artists and Columbia Pictures failed to bring about a co-production. Realising that he would have to proceed without Bond actor Sean Connery, Feldman crammed his picture with as many famous names as possible: Peter Sellers, Woody Allen, David Niven, Ursula Andress, Orson Welles, Deborah Kerr, Daliah Lavi, Joanna Pettet, Barbara Bouchet, William Holden and Jean Paul Belmondo to name but a few. The cast also included several unbilled cameos such as: Peter O’Toole, Caroline Munro, Dave Prowse, John Le Mesurier, Fiona Lewis and ex- Formula 1 racing driver Stirling Moss.

I had watched Charles K Feldman’s Casino Royale on television many times before a friend of mine furthered my interest in the production by pointing out the different plotlines and disjointed nature of the screenplay. Over the years, I both researched and came across much more information about the hap-hazard manner in which Casino Royale was produced, which only wetted my appetite to learn as much as I possibly could about this feature film that had somehow managed to get out of control. My fascination with this craziest Bond film of all eventually brought about an exchange of faxes with director Val Guest, who was living in California at the time. When Guest made a flying visit to London for Christmas 2005, I telephoned him at his London home in Belgravia just before the New Year and we discussed the production in great detail.

Sometime later I was reading an interview with Guest, where he was quoted as saying, ‘There’s a whole film to be made about the making of Casino Royale!’ This made me think, though obviously making a movie was beyond my abilities and resources, but writing a book that outlined both the development and production of the film was certainly something I could do. Doubling my efforts to obtain even more information regarding the film, I read through every Peter Sellers, Woody Allen, Orson Welles and David Niven biography I could locate. However, this was just the beginning as I then began consuming every book associated with anyone who had worked on the film including actors: Dave Prowse, Ronnie Corbett, Peter O’Toole, Chic Murray and Duncan Macrae, directors: Val Guest, John Huston and Robert Parrish, plus writers: Wolf Mankowitz and Terry Southern. My quest for additional knowledge involved the scouring of both British and American film industry publications of the time, plus searches through many website features and on-line archives and even obtaining the French published Ursula Andress biography, despite not being able to read or speak the language.

The Making of Casino Royale (1967) explores all aspects of production, including the origins of Ian Fleming’s novel and subsequent screenplays, the casting choices, pre-production, filming at three British film studios, location filming in England, Ireland, Scotland and France, plus publicity and merchandising. This gives an overall picture of how this strange psychedelic pop art movie was assembled from several different storylines that involved no fewer than seven directors (including two second unit directors), working from a screenplay credited to three writers, although known to have input from at least nine other people including Peter Sellers and Woody Allen. Eventually, I amassed enough information to assemble a production schedule with dates for the picture, which indicates in which order the various segments were filmed, who was directing and which major cast members were present.

The story behind the making of this film outlines how what was happening behind the scenes was just as bizarre as anything happening in front of the cameras. The book also pieces together what material was filmed and then discarded from the movie, by using reference sources such as production stills, portions of scripts and anecdotes about the making the film. Overall this outlines the story of a major blockbuster movie, which got out of control to become one of the most complicated productions filmed and the most bizarre James Bond film ever. Almost 50 years after being produced the elements that originally worked against the sixties Casino Royale, such as the lack of a coherent storyline and the sending up of James Bond, are now considered to work in its favour and have assisted in making it a cult slice of sixties psychedelia.

Just to whet your appetite I can confirm that you will discover the answers to the following… 

1 During development, which James Bond actor was approached about playing the character for what would have been the first time in June 1964?

2 During December 1965, which actress well known for appearing in The Avengers television series was named in the American press as being lined-up to appear in Casino Royale?

3 For his cameo role in the Scottish Marching Band sequence, what did Peter O’Toole accept as payment?

4 Why did Sarah Miles turn down the role of Meg, one of the McTarry daughters?

5 What did Shirley MacLaine do the week before principal photography was due to commence that stopped production?

6 Why was Blake Edwards turned down as a director for Casino Royale?

7 After suffering the bad experience of having his screenplay constantly rewritten while making the film What’s New Pussycat? why did Woody Allen agree to work with Charles K Feldman again on Casino Royale?

8 What role was Dave Prowse originally going to play in Peter Sellers’ nightmare?

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

UK READERS CAN ORDER DIRECTLY FROM TELOS PUBLISHING BY CLICKING HERE

“THE GLASSES IN MANHATTAN”

By Raymond Benson

This is the third excellent release of a Harold Lloyd film by The Criterion Collection and it’s a welcome addition to sit on the shelf along with the previous two (Safety Last! and The Freshman). I mentioned in a review of one of the previous releases how wonderful it was that Criterion was re-issuing Lloyd’s catalog. Most of his work had been unavailable for many years; I grew up with Chaplin and Keaton, of course, but with Lloyd, not so much. It’s a pleasure to discover him in this way.

Speedy was Lloyd’s final silent film, released in 1928. Although he usually made his pictures in Hollywood, this time he wanted to shoot in New York City. Bruce Goldstein, director of repertory programming at New York’s Film Forum, explains in an interesting supplement, “In the Footsteps of Speedy,” that Lloyd took his leading lady Ann Christy and canine co-star King Tut on the railroad across country to make the movie. Quite a bit was shot there, but in the end, though, nearly half the picture was also made on the streets of Los Angeles, doubling for New York—and the matching up is sometimes not very convincing. Still, it’s revelatory to see New York as it was in 1928—Times Square, Washington Square, Sheridan Square, Brooklyn and Coney Island—it’s all here, exactly the way it was. The establishing shot for Manhattan was that of the Woolworth Building, because at the time that was the tallest and most famous structure! Fascinating stuff.

The story concerns Pop Dillon’s horse-drawn streetcar, the last one of its kind in the big city, the tracks of which the railroad baron wants to demolish to make way for progress. Pop’s daughter Jane (Christy) is engaged to Harold “Speedy” Swift (Lloyd), who takes it upon himself to make sure Pop’s livelihood isn’t taken away or at least insure that he’s fairly compensated. Why Harold is nicknamed “Speedy” is not really clear... he’s the usual “Glasses” character—naive, enthusiastic, positive—who works at one job and then another, happily trying to make ends meet so he can marry Jane.

Much of the movie is a sightseeing tour of New York—the Coney Island scenes are especially enjoyable, since Speedy and Jane ride many of the classic attractions that don’t exist anymore. King Tut, the stray dog who picks Speedy to be his master, is adept at many tricks and serves as a terrific little sidekick.

The biggest draw, though, at the time of the film’s release, was the appearance of Babe Ruth in a minor role as himself. Speedy is a baseball enthusiast—a plot point that never really amounts to much—and he has a chance to give the Babe a ride in his taxi (Speedy’s current job). The Babe invites Speedy to see the game at Yankee Stadium, where our hero is able to avoid the cops who are after him for traffic tickets. Babe Ruth had already appeared in a couple of films, in one as himself and in another, a work of fiction called Babe Comes Home, as a baseball player very much like himself. Speedy came at the right time—1928 was the second year in a row the Yankees won the World Series.

Speedy is certainly good fun, although for my money I think both Safety Last! and The Freshman are better pictures. There are plenty of chases and slapstick bits, but the “thrill” stunts Lloyd is known for are not in this one. Here’s hoping Criterion continues its releases of Harold Lloyd classics, especially Grandma’s Boy, Girl Shy, and The Kid Brother.

The movie looks terrific in a new 4K digital restoration from elements preserved by the UCLA Film & Television Archive; there’s a musical score by Carl Davis from 1992, synchronized and restored and presented in uncompressed stereo (and it sounds great!). A new audio commentary is by Goldstein (see above) and Turner Classic Movies director of program production Scott McGee. In addition to the Goldstein documentary mentioned earlier, there is a selection of rare archival footage of Babe Ruth, presented by David Filipi, director of film and video at the Wexner Center for the Arts. A new video essay featuring stills from deleted scenes is narrated by Goldstein. There’s also a cute collection of Harold Lloyd’s home movies, narrated by his granddaughter, Suzanne Lloyd, as well as a newly restored Lloyd short from 1919—Bumping Into Broadway, with a 2004 score by Robert Israel. The booklet contains an essay by critic Phillip Lopate.

A must-buy for fans of silent comedy and for those who want to enrich their lives with the genius of Harold Lloyd.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

BY DARREN ALLISON

A witty, spooky and fabulously atmospheric comedy-thriller, The Phantom Light was an early feature from British film legend Michael Powell. With leading roles for the multi-talented Binnie Hale and endlessly popular character player Gordon Harker, this classic Gainsborough feature remains a wonderful piece of entertainment.

Adapted from Evadne Price and Joan Roy Byford's play, The Haunted light, this delightful British thriller wastes little time and begins with the strange murder of a lighthouse keeper. Since his death, the area (an unspecified Welsh coast), has suffered a number of shipwrecks due to a phantom light or indeed a failing light from the North Stack Lighthouse. A female detective in the shapely form of Alice Bright (Binnie Hale) unites with new lighthouse keeper Sam Higgins (Gordon Harker) and a navy officer Jim Pearce (Ian Hunter) in order to solve the mystery. Directed with flare and confidence by Michael Powell, The Phantom Light is a superior entry among the quota-quickie melodramas that were saturating the British film market at the time.

The Phantom Light was one of seven films released by Michael Powell in 1935 and was essentially a star vehicle for the Cockney comedian Gordon Harker. The film retains a great atmosphere with plenty of storm-tossed coastal action provided by a combination of stock footage, fine model work and superb studio sets. For Michael Powell, it is an early exercise into a pre-modern Britain that still continues on its isles and rocky locales and would become a feature of his later films.

Powell cleverly uses his low budget and without straying too far from the London studios of Gainsborough Pictures. He successfully sells us his imaginary Wales from one railway station, a pub set and a couple of process shots. A fun script, enjoyable performances, and its sheer entertainment value bring all elements together rather nicely throughout its 73 minutes.

Network’s DVD works very well, with film elements both clean and vibrant. Yes, there are a few minor scratches here and there, but for the best part it does little to disappoint or become an overwhelming hindrance. It has to be remembered, this charming low budget film is now eighty years old. Audio is clear and crisp and the film is presented correctly in its original 1.33:1 aspect ratio. The DVD also features a nice stills gallery (approx. 40 images) containing photos, press book ads and even a cigarette card featuring the film, another lost treasure of cinema’s past.

More information at www.networkonair.com

BY LEE PFEIFFER

 Explosive Media is a German-based video label that releases superb special Blu-ray editions of films that retro movie lovers will salivate over. The only problem is that, due to licensing issues, their products are primarily available through Amazon Germany, although some imports of the titles can occasionally be found on eBay and other Amazon sites. Among their latest releases is Roger Corman's 1960 adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher". (Bizarrely, the film was marketed under this title in some territories and simply "House of Usher" in others. Go figure.) The film was a milestone in Corman's career. It not only marked his first color, Cinemascope production but also allowed him to finally graduate from making ultra-cheap, B&W exploitation flicks. More importantly, the film marked his first collaboration with Vincent Price, with whom he would team for numerous other Poe adaptations. "House of Usher" also proved important for Corman because henceforth, he would be working with American International Pictures for many years to come. AIP was supportive of his creative ideas and gave him virtually complete artistic control over his productions. The end result was that Price gained iconic stature in the horror genre, AIP became a highly profitable studio and Corman gained acclaim and respect as a producer and director who worked incredibly fast and efficiently without sacrificing the quality of the films. ("Usher" was shot in only 15 days!)  Along with way, the ties to Poe's original stories became quite flimsy, to say the least, but Corman always insisted on keeping them as period pieces and hired talented behind the scenes craftsmen to provide lush production values that masked to some degree the low budgets of the films. 

"House of Usher" opens with a solitary man riding his horse through a barren, ominous landscape. (Corman actually utilized an area of the Hollywood hills where a devastating fire had recently swept the area.) He arrives at a mansion house shrouded in fog and mist (another ploy of Corman's that he would frequently use to disguise the fact that he was shooting on a rather small studio set.) The man is Philip Winthrop (Mark Damon), who has traveled a long distance to reunite with his fiancee, Madeline Usher (Myrna Fahey). His arrival at the mansion is the stuff of horror movie cliches: a creepy butler refuses to let him in but Winthrop will have none of it. He insists on being announced to the mansion's reclusive owner, Roderick Usher (Vincent Price). Roderick is clearly annoyed by the presence of the interloper. He informs Winthrop that he is Madeline's older brother and has taken on the duties of being her caregiver because she is allegedly gravely ill and confined to her bed. Winthrop insists on seeing her. The tension between the two men is broken by Madeline's unexpected entrance into the room. She seems in desperate straits emotionally but does not appear to be physically ill. Winthrop soon finds that Roderick has been keeping her a virtual prisoner in the isolated Usher mansion. Alone and forgotten, Madeline seems eager to accept Winthrop's offer to take her from the premises back to Boston where he originally met her. Before he can do so, a series of eerie events intervenes and results in Madeline's apparent death by heart attack. Roderick, a distraught Winthrop and the butler, Bristol (Harry Ellerbe) preside over a short funeral service before Madeline's casket in entombed in the cellar along with those of previously-deceased members of the Usher family. Prior to departing, however, the heartbroken Winthrop learns that Madeline suffered from a rare disorder that put her in a trance-like sleep. He frantically runs to her tomb to find out that she had been buried alive. He rescues her and confronts Roderick who admits his despicable deed but justifies it by telling Winthrop that the Usher family has been cursed because of the inhumane acts the family members committed over generations. Even as the mansion house crumbles around  them during a storm, Roderick says the best thing he and his sister can do is simply die so that they will not bring any more suffering into the world in the manner that their ancestors did. As the storm intensifies, the mansion literally begins to fall apart...and Winthrop finds himself in a race against time to rescue the woman he loves, even as a raging fire begins to engulf the house. 

The Explosive Media Blu-ray edition boasts an outstanding transfer of this fine film, which features Price in top form and an impressive performance by Mark Damon in his first important role as a leading man. The production values are impressive, even though one cannot escape the obvious budget constraints.  (The "mansion" is depicted through obvious matte paintings and miniatures.). There is also a good deal of legitimate suspense and fine supporting performances by both Myrna Fahey and Harry Ellerbe. Cinematographer Floyd Crosby makes the most of the widescreen, color format and Les Baxter, who would also collaborate with Corman on future productions, provides a fine score. Bonus extras include an extensive new video interview with Mark Damon, who won a Golden Globe as "Most Promising Newcomer" for his performance in the film. Damon looks back on the film with pride and delight. He also discusses his eventual retirement from acting and his new career as a top producer, a status he still enjoys today. Damon speaks very fondly of Vincent Price but drops a bit of  bombshell by stating that Price, who had married three times and fathered children, was actually gay and, in fact, hit on him during the making of the film. Damon says that he politely rejected the overture and in the aggregate enjoyed working with and socializing with Price. (Price's daughter Victoria, recently confirmed her belief that her father was bi-sexual. Click here to read.) Other bonus extras include the original trailer, a wonderful gallery of stills and marketing materials and a German language collector's booklet. There is also a selection of trailers for other Explosive Media releases. Their titles are not easy to find in English language markets, but they are worth the effort to search them out. 

CLICK HERE TO VISIT THE EXPLOSIVE MEDIA WEB SITE

BY TIM GREAVES 

A quartet of ageing gentlemen friends (Fred Astaire, John Houseman, Douglas Fairbanks Jr and Melvyn Douglas) meet up on a weekly basis in the snow sprinkled town of Milburn, New England in order to exchange scary stories. Self-dubbed ‘The Chowder Society’, they challenge one another to come up with something truly unsettling. Good natured entertainment takes a sinister turn when a dastardly secret that has lain dormant for more than 50 years rears its terrifying head. Drawn helplessly from sweat-sodden nightmares into a living nightmare more frightening and deadly than anything conjured up in their yarning sessions, the comrades’ collective fate falls to the hands of a seemingly unstoppable entity hell bent on revenge. But revenge for what? What could the friends have possibly done all those years ago that was so terrible?

Now wait just a moment... Fred Astaire made a horror movie?! Indeed he did. And a pretty decent one it is at that. As he had done for a number of then-recent non-musical roles (among them The Towering Inferno and A Purple Taxi), the legendary song and dance performer shelved his top hat and tails and signed up for this effective little terror tale of retribution from beyond the grave. 

In a review I pencilled some time ago I perhaps unfairly labelled 1981’s Ghost Story as "average". However the passing of time has been very generous to the film – either that or I'm going soft – for a handful of viewings in the intervening years have gradually elevated it in my opinion. Though by no means a top-ranking classic of horror cinema, I now readily acknowledge it as an efficient little chiller that benefits hugely from the gravitas afforded it by its combined star power. The four leads may not seem the likeliest of go-to names for a director mounting a horror movie, but their united seasoned talent forges a level of dramatic credibility that (almost) makes the fantastical elements of the story feel plausible. A modern audience needs to be aware that these guys were pretty big Hollywood players in their day; imagine the likes of Clooney, Pitt, Cruise and Cage getting together for a spook show in 30 years’ time and you'll get the measure of the men. Furthermore, and most pleasingly, what could have been a wince-inducing exercise in cashing in on past glories is actually anything but. For all except Houseman Ghost Story would also be their final big screen appearance. A very worthy epitaph it proved to be.

Clocking in at just shy of 111-minutes in length, the story does feel a shade drawn out. But if its screenplay – fashioned by Lawrence D Cohen (scripter on Brian DePalma's 1976 classic Carrie and the respectable 2013 Kimberly Peirce remake) from a 1979 bestselling novel by Peter Straub – is occasionally a tad ponderous, it at least never strays from narrative relevance; it's certainly testament to the time invested in establishing the diverse individual personalities of the characters portrayed by Astaire, Houseman, Fairbanks Jr and Douglas that they are immediately identifiable in their younger "flashback" incarnations (Tim Choate, Ken Olin, Kurt Johnson and Mark Chamberlin, respectively). Meanwhile Craig Wasson gets to toy with dual roles as Fairbanks Jr’s twin sons (and delivers a moment of frontal nudity, something possibly less taboo – albeit still uncommon – today, but extremely scarce in mainstream cinema back in 1981) and, also playing two characters, Alice Krige brings to the show a performance that is excitingly provocative and icily malevolent in equal measure.

Director John Irvine (The Dogs of War) moulds some potently emotive imagery, abetted immensely by some marvellously gruesome (and suitably squishy!) special effects and the lush – if occasionally a tad overwrought – orchestral compositions of Philippe Sarde.

There's something curiously enticing about spectral fiction set against crisp wintry snowscapes, intrinsically suggestive of the perfect winter evening movie fare, inviting you to settle comfortably in front of the fire with the lights out and a glass or three of port to hand; if that sounds like an appealingly cosy scenario then you need look no further than Ghost Story for your viewing of choice.

The film arrives on both Region 2 DVD and Region B Blu-Ray (for the first time in the UK) from Second Sight. In North America, the Blu-ray is available with the same supplements on Region A Blu-ray through Scream Factory. The Blu-Ray delivers a very nice transfer of the 34-year-old film showing only negligible traces of print damage – the odd blemish here, occasional vertical scratches there – with the sometimes soft image being a faithful representation of the intended aesthetic of the film. Supplements are exceedingly generous. Director John Irvine provides an informative commentary to accompany the feature. There’s a 40-minute piece in which author Peter Straub talks at length about his writing style and the novel on which the film is based. A trio of half-hour featurettes comprise interviews with Alice Krige, scriptwriter Lawrence D Cohen, producer Burt Weissbourd and matte photographer Bill Taylor (who discusses late colleague Albert Whitlock’s impressive visual effects on the film). Rounding all this off is an original release trailer, a TV and radio spot, plus a slideshow (comprising an expansive collection of production stills that depict imagery from in front of and behind the cameras, lobby cards, and artwork), which runs in the company of selections from Philippe Sarde’s score.

Click here to order from Amazon USA.

Click here to order from Amazon UK. 

Turner Classic Movies has released a major DVD boxed set that is comprised of the most complete collection ever assembled of James Dean's television appearances. Here is a list of the contents:

Before East Of Eden (1955), Rebel Without A Cause (1955) and Giant (1956) turned James Dean into an international icon, he honed his craft on television, appearing on such shows as Studio One, Lux Video Theater and Hallmark Hall of Fame—many broadcast live and thought to be lost. This is the most complete collection to date of Dean’s television legacy featuring 19 full episodes, 2 original commercials and 2 clips featuring Dean, all meticulously re-mastered for picture and sound quality from the best available sources.

This box set also includes a commemorative booklet featuring a comprehensive essay focusing on the actor’s personal life and television career, and featuring rare stills, episode credits and descriptions.

Bonus Material
- The documentary Fairmount Today, exploring Dean’s hometown in Indiana
- Episode introductions by James Dean’s cousin, Marcus Winslow, Jr., head of the Dean Estate
- 3 photo galleries from world famous photographers Roy Schatt, Frank Worth and Sanford Roth
- A video demonstration illustrating the restoration and preservation process

Episodes
Family Theater: Hill Number One (1951)
Trouble With Father: Jackie Knows All (1952)
Westinghouse Studio One: 10,000 Horses Singing (1952)
Lux Video Theater: The Foggy, Foggy Dew (1952)
Westinghouse Studio One: John Drinkwater’s Abraham Lincoln (1952)
Hallmark Hall Of Fame: Forgotten Children: A Historical Biography (1952)
The Kate Smith Hour: The Hound Of Heaven (1953)
Campbell Sound Stage: Something For An Empty Briefcase (1953)
Westinghouse Studio One Summer Theater: Sentence Of Death (1953)
Danger: Death Is My Neighbor (1953)
The Big Story: Rex Newman (1953)
Kraft Television Theatre: Keep Our Honor Bright (1953)
Campbell Sound Stage: Life Sentence (1953)
Kraft Television Theatre: A Long Time Till Dawn (1953)
Armstrong’s Circle Theater: The Bells Of Cockaigne (1953)
Robert Montgomery Presents: Harvest (1953)
Philco Television Playhouse: Run Like A Thief (1954)
Danger: Padlocks (1954)
General Electric Theater: Sherwood Anderson’s I'm A Fool (1954)
General Electric Theater: The Dark, Dark Hour (1954)

CLICK HERE TO ORDER 

BY DARREN ALLISON

Hellraiser: The Scarlet Box Limited Edition Trilogy 1987-1992 Directed by Clive Barker, Tony Randel, Anthony Hickox, Starring Doug Bradley, Andy Robinson, Ashley Laurence, Claire Higgins, Kenneth Cranham, Terry Farrell, Kevin Bernhardt. Arrow Blu-ray 4 Disc, Released on 26th October 2015.

Stephen King was once quoted as saying: “I have seen the future of horror… his name is Clive Barker.” The future became a reality when, in 1987, Barker unleashed his directorial debut Hellraiser, launching a hit franchise and creating an instant horror icon in the formidable figure of Pinhead.

Arrow’s beautifully produced Hellraiser: The Scarlet Box, has arguably for the first time, been afforded the prestige it fully deserves. The collection works very nicely in deed, mainly because its focus revolves around creator Clive Barker’s involvement in the franchise. Whilst Barker had a small interest in the fourth instalment Hellraiser IV: Bloodline, it would be the last in which he would have any official involvement.

Fans of the franchise will be all too familiar with the first three movies, which are by far the best of the series. Barker’s original Hellraiser, based on his novella The Hellbound Heart, follows Kirsty Cotton (Ashley Laurence) as she comes head-to-head with the Cenobites, the demonic beings from another realm who are intent on reclaiming the soul of her deviant Uncle Frank.

Picking up immediately after the events of the original Hellraiser, Hellbound: Hellraiser II finds Kirsty detained at a psychiatric institute and under the care of Phillip Channard, a doctor who abuses his position to realise his own dark aims.

In Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth, a reporter investigating a mysterious death in a nightclub finds herself in the way of Pinhead and the Cenobites, who plan to bring their horrifying world into our own.

It has to be said, Arrow have really gone above and beyond with this superb set. The films have never looked better, all three movies now benefit from a brand new 2K restoration with Hellraiser and Hellraiser II being approved by director of photography Robin Vidgeon. The visual presentations are as close to pristine as you are ever likely to see. Barker’s original Hellraiser does display a varying amount of grain (especially in some of the interior house scenes), but the high level of fine detail and vivid colour (especially in those fleshy, blood soaked scenes) is exceptional. The Hellraiser series of films has never leaped out as the sharpest of films. Hellraiser in particular, has often appeared a little diluted or desaturated, even in its theatrical presentation, it looked rather dull upon the eye. However, there is now a genuine freshness to the films, a new edge to them which makes the whole viewing experience something quite different. The audio elements are also bound to please with uncompressed PCM Stereo 2.0 and Lossless DTS-HD MA 5.1 sound for Hellraiser and Hellbound: Hellraiser II, while Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth sounds pure and clean with a Lossless DTS-HD MA 2.0 soundscape, all of which works very adequately. Each film also boasts multiple audio commentaries which hardened fans will recognise from the Anchor Bay 4 DVD box set released in 2004. However, Arrow’s box of goodies does secure a brand new additional audio commentary (on Hellraiser III) and provided by writer Peter Atkins.

All three movies are presented in their uncut versions, alongside a bonus presentation of the unrated cut of Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth. Running some four minutes longer than the theatrical cut, this includes bonus unrated footage (in standard definition) which has been inserted into the 2K high definition version of the film. It may not be ideal, but Arrow have again been up front and honest, and assured us that the bonus footage has been ‘sourced from the best available material.’ The material in question is actually from the video master that was used for the U.S. panned and scanned laserdisc, therefore expect a slight drop in quality and a change in the aspect ratio for these particular scenes. Arrow should of course remain free of criticism for their decision to include this, remembering that these scenes were never included or intended for the theatrical version. Accepting it purely on the basis of a bonus feature should leave everyone feeling satisfied, and yes, grateful for Arrow’s foresight.

On the subject of bonus material, Arrow’s Scarlet Box is packed and practically bursting at the seams. One of the main bonus elements includes the comprehensive fan-made docs, Leviathan: The Story of Hellraiser and Hellbound: Hellraiser II. These were previously released as an individual 3 DVD set with a mammoth running time, (Disc 1: The Story of Hellraiser approx. 4 hours 37 minutes), (Disc 2: The Story of Hellbound approx. 3 hours 19 minutes) and (Disc 3: Bonus Features approx. 3 hours). Arrow has (perhaps wisely) taken the opportunity to present this fascinating documentaries as ‘brand new versions’, split into two parts and making the whole story of these two films much more presentable and tighter in the process. It’s a decision that arguably works to their advantage. The original (very long) documentaries have received negative criticism in the past, particularly for their pacing and structure. However, Arrow’s re-edits could hardly be considered as thin and without substance with running times of 90 minutes and 120 minutes respectively, there is still ample material here to be enjoyed and appreciated.

(This review pertains to the UK Region 2 release)

BY TIM GREAVES

There are some films that you just know can only ever have been greenlit and bankrolled because the directors were riding on the success of recent projects – which was precisely the case with esoteric chunk of dystopian fiction, Zardoz. John Boorman may have been revelling in the plaudits afforded him following the release of 1972’s Deliverance when he began touting around his script for Zardoz, but even so it wasn’t an easy sell. The problem was that no-one could really get a handle on what it was about; years later cameraman Peter MacDonald jokingly suggested that Boorman was the only person who actually understood it. That may not in fact have been so far from the truth, but in any event it was finally picked up by 20th Century Fox. All the same, Zardoz is certainly one of the strangest films ever to snare a position in mainstream cinema. Upon its original release it was critically mauled and left audiences around the globe scratching their heads. More than 40 years on it may have reached an unpredictable plateau of respect, but its power to baffle hasn't diminished one iota.

The year is 2293 and what we bear witness to is “a possible future”. In the wake of an apocalyptic event, the world’s population has divided. There are the Elite, blessed with immortality and psychic powers, who inhabit the tranquil paradise of The Vortex. Then there are the Exterminators, a band of savage warriors who patrol Earth’s wastelands; worshipping a huge flying stone head – an effigy of the deity from which the film’s title is derived – their raison d'être is to restrain the starving populous (known as Brutals), safe in the belief that when their time is over they will cross over into The Vortex. When the Exterminators aren’t busy ravaging and slaying Brutals, they enslave them for the cultivation of food. Zed (Sean Connery) is a rarity: an intelligent Exterminator. He cunningly manages to gain entry to The Vortex, determined to learn of Zardoz’s secrets, but his arrival is greeted with mixed reaction. Immortal May (Sara Kestelman) is keen to study him and, much to the annoyance of Consuella (Charlotte Rampling) who sees the savage as a dangerous influence on their society, the senior Friend (John Alderton) permits Zed to remain among them, if for no other reason than to relieve the boredom born of immortality. There also appears to be hope in the community that Zed may hold the secret to the blessed release of death.

Or something like that.

First up let’s address the elephant in the room: Leading man Connery’s frankly bizarre attire. Throughout the first half of the 1970s the actor took on a number of roles that would distance him from his James Bond persona, including an unhinged police detective with possible latent paedophile tendencies (The Offence) and an elderly Robin Hood (Robin and Marian). But with his portrayal of Zed in Zardoz he hit the motherlode. Ponytailed and clad for much of the film’s runtime in little more than a scarlet diaper – the publicity stills providing car crash visuals that are still mocked today – I’d posit that he actually pulls off ‘the look’. (Just.) If nothing else, I’m sure the skimpy outfit appealed to the actor’s female fanbase. Appearance aside though, in the role originally earmarked for Burt Reynolds, Connery delivers a terrific performance and his rugged screen presence keeps one engaged even when the narrative veers off into the profoundly confusing – which it does on more than one occasion.

There’s strong support meanwhile from Charlotte Rampling, Sara Kestelman, TV favourite John Alderton and Niall Buggy as rapscallion Arthur Frayn.

Produced as well as written and directed by Boorman, Zardoz is a triumph in both style and substance (if you can at least partially get your head around it). The plot may be something of a conundrum, but there’s a great deal to admire here. It’s certainly beautifully mounted; gorgeous location work (lensed in Ireland’s County Wicklow) set to the music of Beethoven combines with Christel Kruse Boorman’s economical but impressive costume designs to deliver a captivating aesthetic that ably compensates for some of the cheaper looking ‘plastic bag’ – quite literally – visuals. There’s also a very satisfying reveal as to the source of the titular God’s name, a twist capitalised on in Star Trek: The Motion Picture a few years later.

I've seen Zardoz several times over the years and still find it a challenge to endure. Yet the fact I find myself drawn to return to it says a great deal. It’s indisputably a peculiar one, but never less than intriguingly so. 

Okay then, enough beating about the bush. Is Zardoz a load of old nonsense (as so many profess), or a sublime masterpiece (as equal numbers make claim)? 

The opportunity for doubters to reappraise Boorman’s film (or indeed, for those who’ve always had their tent pitched in the pro camp, to simply re-indulge) has arrived in the form of Arrow’s scintillating new Blu-ray presentation. The transfer of the film itself is outstanding – I’ve certainly not seen it looking quite so beautiful before – and it’s accompanied by an appreciation piece from director Ben Wheatley, an original 1970s trailer (even more bemusing than the film it was attempting to cultivate an audience for), radio spots, plus short but valuable on-camera reminiscences from Boorman, Kestelman, production designer Anthony Pratt, special effects technician Gerry Johnston, camera operator Peter MacDonald, assistant director Simon Relph, hairstylist Colin Jamison, production manager Seamus Byrne and assistant editor Alan Jones. The icing on the cake is an informative commentary from the eminently likeable Boorman. Of course, the cherry on the icing would have been input from Connery, Alderton and Rampling, but they’re all conspicuous by their absence (rather inevitably where Connery was concerned, one supposes).

A nicely illustrated 40-page booklet comprising interview material and articles makes for a very handsome finishing touch.

BY TIM GREAVES

Not to be mistaken for the cannibal monstrosity from Umberto Lenzi with which it shares its title, Eaten Alive is a 1976 tale of terror set in the Louisiana swamps and was directed by Tobe Hooper in the wake of his phenomenal success with The Texas Chain Saw Massacre two years earlier. From the outset Eaten Alive shares its predecessor's mien of ill ease (though not to such stomach-tightening effect), but little of its wicked humour. Indeed it's an all-round far crueller film and positively bubbles over with bloodshed.

Producer Mardi Rustam – who also wrote the story with colleague Alvin L Fast, TCSM's Kim Henkel then adapting it for the screen – was aiming to ride the tidal wave of Jaws' success; what the results lacked in quality (certainly if Rustam felt truly inspired by Spielberg’s film) was voraciously compensated for with lashings of cheap thrills and squalid chills.

The story kicks off with a very fresh-faced Robert Englund attempting to abuse 'the new girl' in a grimy brothel. Immediately deciding that prostitution isn't for her, the young lass packs her bags and sets off on foot into the night. But it's very much a case of ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ when she stumbles across the remote Starlight Hotel and its creepy proprietor Judd (Neville Brand); after attempting to assault her, he prongs her to death on the tines of a pitchfork and feeds her corpse to the huge crocodile he keeps in an enclosure in the back yard. It’s a brutal and extremely graphic sequence but one via which Hooper adeptly alerts the audience that he's upped the ante to deliver something rather more visceral then he did with TCSM (which for all its notoriety is a largely bloodless affair, functioning primarily on a psychological level). The rest of the movie’s runtime pivots on Judd serving up hotel guests as crocodile chow for no discernible reason beyond the fact he's mad as...well, as a box of baby crocs.

Given the unbridled success of Hooper's earlier film, it's no surprise that Eaten Alive is often given short shrift and indeed it is inferior, mainly due to sluggish pacing and the fact it was shot in its entirety on a soundstage; although the hotel exteriors –wreathed in swirling mist and bathed in a quease-inducing red glow – have an appealingly stylised look, it's also painfully obvious one is looking at a studio-bound set, replete with the tell-tale hollow sound resulting when interiors feebly posture as exteriors. However, if you can look past this handicap, and claustrophobic dread coupled with sleaze by the bucketful float your boat, then there's plenty on offer here to keep you entertained.

The cast alone is worth tuning in for. Complementing Brand's frenetic turn as the maniac hotel manager there are fun appearances from legends Mel Ferrer (whose career had certainly seen better days) and Addams Family icon Carolyn Jones (almost unrecognisable as the decrepit Madam of a brothel). Also on hand are Stuart Whitman as a local sheriff oblivious to the carnage being perpetrated on his patch and TCSM's leading lady Marilyn Burns, who fortuitously discards her frightful wig early on but still ends up bound and gagged by our resident psychopath... the poor girl didn't have a lot of luck in Hooper's films, did she? There's also a bizarre turn from William Finley as a disgustingly sweaty guest with a penchant for barking like a dog, giving Brand strong competition in the most deranged character stakes.

Alternatively lurking under titles such as Horror Hotel, Starlight Slaughter and Legend of the Bayou, when Eaten Alive was issued in the UK on VHS in the early 80s under the moniker Death Trap it immediately drew unfortunate attention that earned it a place among the infamous 'video nasties' and it was withdrawn from circulation. Previous DVD releases have reportedly been pretty much substandard across the board (although I haven't seen any of them to be able to comment fairly). But one thing's for sure: Arrow's new uncut Blu-ray/DVD combination package is anything but substandard, in fact it's absolutely terrific, doing Robert Caramico's stylish cinematography more fitting a service than one could have ever imagined possible. 

As if such a superior, uncut presentation of the film alone doesn't make this one a worthwhile purchase, Arrow has bundled in an impressive collection of sweeteners. There are new interviews with Tobe Hooper (who also appears in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it introduction tagged onto the start of the movie), supporting actress Janus Blythe and make-up artist Craig Reardon, as well as older ones with Hooper, Robert Englund and Marilyn Burns. Mardi Rustam provides an informative commentary and there's also a 20-something minute featurette that delves into the life of the Texas bar owner upon who the film is loosely based, as well as a healthy selection of trailers, radio and TV spots, plus a gallery of poster art and lurid lobby cards. A final gem appears in the form of a gallery of original 'comment cards', collected from attendees at a preview screening of the film back in 1976, with the incentive for filling them out being a reward for the best 'new title' suggestion. Most of the remarks are pretty uncharitable, with an amusing standout being the one on which the viewer sarcastically requests to be informed of any subsequent title change so that he/she doesn't inadvertently go to see it again!

BY DARREN ALLISON

In the 1982 cult film “Videodrome”, James Woods plays a low life television programmer named Max Renn.  His television station, Civix TV, Channel 83, televises adult programmes such as softcore pornography over the airwaves. Alongside his partner, a satellite pirate named Harlan (Peter Dvorsky), Renn scans the airwaves for decidedly dodgy shows to broadcast on his station. Harlan discovers a noise-shrouded broadcast lasting less than a minute that takes place in a sordid room. The footage contains convincingly realistic sadomasochism and possibly a murder. Renn is drawn to the material and immediately starts to investigate in order to secure the broadcasting of this edgy program called Videodrome. It is during this time that Renn attends a TV debate on a talk show, where he meets fellow guest and radio personality Nicki Brand (Deborah Harry). The couple date and Renn soon discovers that Brand is something of a sadomasochist and is further more turned on by the idea of Videodrome. Renn however, is growing more frustrated in locating the source of the programme and is eventually advised by his agent to drop the project. Additional clips are located by Harlan that continues to feed more into Renn’s growing curiosity. He continues to search for the people behind Videodrome until his path leads him to an encounter with a curious personality known as Brian O’Blivion (Jack Creley). From here on, David Cronenberg’s intriguing film takes a very psychological and disturbing turn. Soon after, Renn begins experiencing headaches and strange hallucinating effects that are the result of Videodrome’s hidden signal.

Combining the bio-horror elements of his earlier films whilst anticipating the technological themes of his later work, “Videodrome” exemplifies Cronenberg’s extraordinary talent for making both visceral and cerebral cinema. Cronenberg has been hailed by contemporaries such as John Carpenter, who insists “he’s better than all of us combined” and Martin Scorsese as a genius. “Videodrome” was Cronenberg’s most mature work to date and is still regarded as a cult classic.

James Woods shines in his role of Max Renn, and Debbie Harry turns in a convincing and confident performance, almost as if she had a point to prove. Whilst the story shows it age in terms of technology (with Betamax tapes and 4:3 TV’s all over the place), it also provides a dark and disturbingly accurate account of what was also to come.

UK fans of “Videodrome” will be delighted with Arrow’s new presentation. Its previous release (by Universal) was largely disappointing, not only because of picture issues (it was also a cut version), but also because of its failure to deliver in terms of bonus material, which was zero. This time around Arrow have used the same Criterion master (approved by director David Cronenberg and cinematographer Mark Irwin) as its source and in the process, the picture is vastly better. There is no longer evidence of an over sharpened image and as a result there is a much smoother, pure, high definition presentation. This master also offers a correct frame ratio and colour definition is much more vivid, yet stable. Universal’s previous Blu-ray release suffered considerably from the reproduction of reds and blues in particular. Strong, deep blacks have also helped to improve some of the darker scenes without compromising any of the film’s finer details. The film also benefits from just the right amount of grain and never looks overly defined.

Arrow’s audio consists of one standard track (in English LPCM 1.0.) but the clarity remains sharp throughout and really brings to the fore Howard Shore's wonderfully atmospheric score.

Overall, I find it hard to perceive how anything can possibly topple this defining collection. It is by far, the finest transfer (I have yet to see) of what some fans describe as Cronenberg’s finest hour.

BY DARREN ALLISON

Incubo sulla città contaminate / Nightmare City 1980 Directed by Umberto Lenzi, Starring Hugo Stiglitz, Maria Rosaria Omaggio and Mel Ferrer. Arrow Blu-Ray / DVD dual format.

TV Reporter Dean Miller (Hugo Stiglitz) is assigned to the airport to interview an arriving scientist. The airport personnel are left confused when an unidentified Hercules lands without communicating with flight control. The emergency services are deployed to meet the incoming plane but as the doors open, all carnage breaks loose as an array of varying mutant maniacs spill out onto the runway. Among them is the scientist that Miller was sent to meet. There is an immediate onslaught. With the mutants seemingly impervious to bullets, they proceed to attack and devour anyone who stands in their way.

Of course, it’s a wonderful opening idea and Umberto Lenzi wastes little time in getting to the action. Forget the phrase ‘slow burner’, Lenzi doesn’t believe in it. However, examining his film too intently will reveal certain narrative flaws. Who was flying the plane? How did Miller know the scientist was going to be on that unidentified plane? These are the sort of questions that simply need avoiding.

So, in the true style of Lenzi, let’s cut straight to the chase. These mutants are most certainly zombies. It is also not a film to be taken seriously; it’s a ‘romp’ as filmmaker and Fangoria editor Chris Alexander so fondly describes it in his superb commentary. Lenzi’s zombies have often been described as ‘Pizza faced’, but think of a ‘burnt meat feast’ Pizza and you’ll be pretty close to the genuine article. You can even (to a certain extent) forget the story in general, it’s a pretty poor one and very little of it. We soon come to realise that these zombies are in fact, plague infested zombies and their bite contaminates their victims. Gore fans can also revel in the fact that these zombies can only be destroyed by a shot to the head…

The bottom line is to just enjoy Nightmare City; it’s a perfect beer and pizza festivity. I suggest simply soaking up the action, (and it is non-stop action). Forget the stupid script, the lousy acting and the terrible post production dubbing. Instead, smile at the pure carnage, the fun of those typical Italian set ups, the eye gouging, the head splattering and of course, the completely outdated approach of exposing women’s breasts at every given opportunity. Accept the film on that basis, and I’m sure you will enjoy this seminal cult classic. The film also contains a wonderful, minimalistic score from Stelvio Cipriani, and in a style that would later be adapted by the likes of John Carpenter and his contemporaries. The film has however, often been criticised for its ending, but it is an interesting concept to say the least. Depending on your perspective, some might even suggest it is an imaginative and fascinating ending. For first time viewers and without revealing any more information, I will let you decide for yourself.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Warner Home Entertainment has recently released their special edition DVD of director Joe Dante’s “Innerspace” on Blu-ray. The 1987 film is a sci-fi comedy that afforded Martin Short and Meg Ryan early career leading roles in a tale of inspired lunacy. The premise of the script centers on  a narcissistic former military test pilot Tuck Pendelton (Dennis Quaid)  who volunteers for an unprecedented scientific experiment. Doctors have the technology to shrink him and inject him into the body of a rabbit. They also obviously have the ability to bring him back into the outside world where he can resume his normal activities at his normal size. The purpose of the experiment is to allow medical technicians to eventually inject operatives into human beings so that they can perform miracle surgeries. However, there are some bad guys who are looking to benefit from the amazing technology by selling it to the  highest bidder. After Tuck has been reduced inside a hypodermic needle, there is an altercation between the villains and scientists.  A chase ensues that extends outside of the laboratory. By happenstance, Jack Putter (Martin Short), a nondescript grocery store clerk, is injected by the needle. The result is that Tuck is now floating around the bloodstream of an unwitting, innocent man. The laughs result from Tuck's ability to communicate with Jack and convince him of what is happening. Drawn into the mix is Tuck's girlfriend Lydia (Meg Ryan), who Jack befriends at Tuck's urging. In the zany antics that follow, Lydia is finally convinced of the fantastic scenario after she has become targeted by the head villain, a zillionaire named Scrimshaw (Kevin McCarthy). By then, there is a desperate race against time to get Tuck back into the real world before he becomes a permanent part of Jack's DNA. 

"Innerspace" is a throwback to an era when major studios would routinely turn out family friendly comedies that were devoid of today's mandatory gross-out jokes and mean-spirited pranks. The entire cast seems to be having a blast under Dante's direction, perhaps because his films are glorious evidence that he has never grown out of the wonder of the types of films that appealed to him as a kid. The movie is a particular triumph of sorts for Martin Short, who proved he could carry a major budget production as a leading man. The special effects hold up extremely well even today (no surprise the film won an Oscar in this category).

We caught up with Dante all these years later to ask him to reflect on his thoughts about "Innerspace". 

CINEMA RETRO: How do you feel the film holds up into today's modern age?

JOE DANTE: I've always liked it and I had a lot of fun making it.  I think you can tell when you watch it. 

CR: It's especially evident listening to the commentary track on the Blu-ray. It's no secret that you have been heavily influenced in your work by the classic and cult horror and sci-fi movies of your youth. Is it fair to say that "Innerspace" was a satire of "Fantastic Voyage"?

JD: I can't vouch for that because I wasn't in on the creation of it. When I was first offered it, the script had no comedy at all. I didn't think it worked that way so I went off and did something else. When I came back, they had a new writer and he approached it as comedy from the concept of what would happen if we shrank Dean Martin down and injected him inside Jerry Lewis. That was a concept I could relate to. 

CR:  Steven Spielberg executive produced the film. Was he involved before you were?

JD:  Actually no, because I was offered the picture by Peter Guber when it was in its serious incarnation. During the time I went off to do something else, Spielberg had become involved. He was probably an impetus for turning it into a comedy. 

CR: Did he have any constraints on you regarding your vision of the film?

JD: The atmosphere at Amblin was pretty free. The thing Steven would do is protect you from the studio and sometimes from the other producers.  It was a very filmmaker-friendly atmosphere over there. You got all the best equipment and all the best people and all the toys you wanted to play with. Plus you had somebody on your side who was also a filmmaker and they knew exactly what you were talking about when you had a problem or you had a question. 

CR: In terms of casting, you seemed to have your own stock company of actors you liked to work with: Dick Miller, William Schallert, Rance Howard, Orson Bean, Kathleen Freeman and even Kenneth Tobey.  

JD: I think when you look at a director's filmography, you see the same faces popping up all the time because  these people are copacetic and sometimes they become your friend.  You originally hire them because you like their work and you like to watch them do their stuff so, whether it's Ingmar Bergman, Preston Sturges or John Ford, they have "go to" people that they put into almost every one of their pictures. The only down side comes when you have made a lot of movies and now you have a lot of people you want to include but, of course, you don't have parts for them. 

CR: That tradition doesn't seem to be as prevalent today.

JD: That's because the business has changed so much. The movies aren't made in one locale anymore. There are less opportunities for an actor to shine over and over in a supporting role because when a movie goes to Canada or Australia, you have to use their local people. All those people who built up followings from television and movies and sometimes even radio were constantly being seen by people. Today there's just no opportunity to do that. Not only are there less movies, there are fewer roles and most of the films aren't made in Hollywood any longer. 

CR: With "Innerspace", were the leading roles already cast before you got involved? Did you rely much on the casting director?

JD: No, once you are involved with a movie, you're in on all those decisions. The good thing about casting directors is that you can tell them who you want to see and they have the ability to make that happen. They make deals, they make contracts. I was using Mike Fenton, who was one of the best casting directors in the business at the time. Many of my best pictures were cast by Mike. Today, it's a little more piecemeal because so many of the movies aren't made here. So you have dual casting directors. You have the Hollywood casting director and the Canadian casting director. When it gets down to the smaller roles, they almost always cast in the locality you are shooting in. I made enough movies in Vancouver that I actually started to build up a Vancouver stock company because the talent pool there isn't that vast. I sort of bemoan the fact that actors don't have the opportunity for that kind of career longevity. When they decided to start giving all that money to the stars it came out of the casting budget. All of a sudden there wasn't much money for the supporting actors.  

NOW SHIPPING WORLDWIDE! IF YOU PRE-ORDERED, YOUR COPY IS EN ROUTE TO YOU. 

Cinema Retro proudly presents its latest "Movie Classics" special edition issue: "The American Westerns of Clint Eastwood", the perfect companion to our acclaimed special issue dedicated to the three Clint Eastwood Westerns directed by Sergio Leone.

"The American Westerns of Clint Eastwood" is a 116 page limited edition publication. Each of Eastwood's American Westerns is covered in detail in individual chapters:

• "Hang "Em High"
• "Paint Your Wagon"
• "Two Mules for Sister Sara"
• "The Beguiled"
• "Joe Kidd"
• "High Plains Drifter"
• The Outlaw Josey Wales"
• "Pale Rider"
• "Unforgiven"
• Special section covering early film roles and TV Western appearances

Featuring hundreds of photographs, rare behind-the-scenes stills an movie poster art, including location photos (then and now) and even props that exist to this day in private collections!!

We are also very honored to present unseen movie poster designs by the legendary Bill Gold, who has overseen the advertising campaigns for most of Eastwood's films since "Dirty Harry" in 1971. Bill has provided some stunning examples of unused artwork and posters that were never utilized in ad campaigns. 

(This issue is not part of the subscription plan and must be ordered separately).

 PRICE: USA:  $19.95, UK: Â£12.50,  REST OF THE WORLD: $29.95 (INCLUDING POSTAGE)

USA CUSTOMERS CLICK BELOW:

AMERICAN WESTERNS OF CLINT EASTWOOD

AMERICAN WESTERNS OF CLINT EASTWOOD $19.95 USD

UK CUSTOMERS CLICK BELOW:

AMERICAN WESTERNS OF CLINT EASTWOOD

AMERICAN WESTERNS OF CLINT EASTWOOD £12.50 GBP

EUROPEAN CUSTOMERS CLICK BELOW:

EUROPE: AMERICAN WESTERNS OF CLINT EASTWOOD

AMERICAN WESTERNS OF CLINT EASTWOOD £16.95 GBP

REST OF THE WORLD CLICK BELOW:

AMERICAN WESTERNS OF CLINT EASTWOOD

AMERICAN WESTERNS OF CLINT EASTWOOD $29.95 USD

BY DARREN ALLISON

The Hound of the Baskervilles 1959 Directed by Terence Fisher, Starring Peter Cushing, André Morell and Christopher Lee. Arrow Blu-Ray release date: 1st June 2015

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic tale The Hound of the Baskervilles is a thrilling story that has stood the test of time. Featuring London’s super sleuth Sherlock Holmes, this adventure sees him travel to Dartmoor’s Baskerville Hall where Charles Baskerville has been found dead and under mysterious circumstances. As cinema’s most filmed character of all time - Sherlock Holmes movies have acquired something of a unique place in history. One might perhaps think back to the days of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce in order to recapture their first encounter of this classic filmed adventure. Hammer Studios had begun to revisit these classic horrors and thrillers throughout the mid to late Fifties, with filmed projects such as The Curse of Frankenstein and Dracula. So it was perhaps no surprise that the studio picked up The Hound of the Baskervilles and splashed it with their own distinctive and original blend of Hammer style.

In terms of general entertainment value, the film works very well in deed. Peter Cushing’s Holmes offers a new perspective, bold and abrasive; he provides a genuine freshness to the role. Cushing injects a much needed character boost to Holmes, and one which relegated Rathbone’s later portrayals into bleak obscurity. Cushing certainly appears to relish within the role, and many have argued in favour of his performance as being the very best presented on screen. He is once again paired alongside his regular sparring partner, the recently (and sadly) departed Christopher Lee. It was a nice departure for Lee, who regarded it as one of his first major romantic leads. It was a refreshing change playing the dashing hero type role, especially in contrast to his more regular monster appearances. The chemistry between Cushing and Lee is quite wonderful, and their shared screen time is something rather special and memorising. The film also boasts some fine support, particularly from André Morell, who provides us with an astute and wisely Dr. Watson. Morell is afforded a generous amount of screen time in Hammer’s remake and he seems to thrive during every second of it. 

There is a wonderful, vintage feel about the film, it not only bubbles away with Hammer’s unique sense of atmosphere, but it benefits from an ‘old time’ pacey narrative. Director Terence Fisher never seems to let the film fall short; he keeps it tight without ever letting momentum wain. There is a healthy vitality about Hammer’s remake, helped undoubtedly by composer James Bernard's energetic score which bristles along nicely. Despite the diversions away from Conan Doyle's original novel, the story is respectfully handled and works exceptionally well. It has certainly withstood the test of time andl remains a hugely enjoyable piece of entertainment. Is it as good as Rathbone’s 1939 version? That’s a tough question, and for me, the jury is still out. I would certainly sleep easier placing them side by side and treating them with the equal respect they both deserve.

Hammer’s The Hound of the Baskervilles was the first filmed version to be shot in vivid colour. Everything is bathed with sumptuous textures from hunting red riding costumes to splendid tweed suits and rich wooden panelling. So with all things considered, there was perhaps an overall expectancy that this should look positively beautiful after being afforded the Blu-ray treatment. Well, in some ways the upgrade works, but not without some minor troubles.

Arrow’s Blu-ray is still probably the best I have seen on any home video format, but that shouldn’t really surprise anybody. However, like a lot of recent Hammer films to emerge on the Blu-ray format, the image does remain a little on the soft side, not perhaps as soft as The Curse of Frankenstein but nowhere near as crisp or sharp as say Quatermass and the Pit. Whilst a great deal of the movie takes place at night, even interior lit scenes also tend to be a little on the dark side and lack any real vitality. Viewers may well be left questioning why this couldn’t have been corrected or improved during the mastering process, but it simply remains a little too bland and muted on the eye. Added to this problem was a fairly large amount of white speckle which seemed to haunt the picture throughout.

This is an area that I still find generally unacceptable, especially in consideration of today’s technology; the process of eliminating such flecks and particles is a fairly easy (albeit) time consuming element of restoration. Today, with any Blu-ray purchase, there is arguably a degree of basic requirements that one would like to expect, including a fairly good, cleaned up picture. With The Hound of the Baskervilles, it became something more than just a minor distraction and instead fell into the category of unavoidable hindrance, and that is a genuine shame. If a company can produce for example, a near spotless print of Frankenstein (1931) is there any reason why a 1959 movie shouldn’t look just as clean? I don’t believe that’s too much to ask.

Thankfully, the bonus features on this disc appear to balance out and make up for the film’s minor quality issues. Firstly there is a super new audio commentary featuring the always reliable Hammer experts Marcus Hearn along with Jonathan Rigby. For the purist of Hammer fans, there is also an Isolated Music and Effects track. Listen carefully to this during the opening scenes and your ears will certainly reveal how background conversation tracks are most definitely looped…

Release the Hound! Is a brand new 30 minute documentary looking at the genesis and making of the Hammer classic, featuring interviews with hound mask creator Margaret Robinson, film historian Kim Newman and actor/documentarian and co-creator of BBC’s Sherlock Mark Gatiss.

André Morell: Best of British is another excellent featurette looking at the late great actor André Morell and his work with Hammer.

The Many Faces of Sherlock Holmes is a 1986 documentary looking at the many incarnations of Conan Doyle’s celebrated character and is narrated and presented by Christopher Lee. It does have a typical television look about it and clearly shows the limitations of video tape, on which it was clearly shot. Nevertheless, it’s fairly enjoyable in its own right.

Actor’s Notebook: Christopher Lee – an archive interview in which the actor looks back on his role as Sir Henry Baskerville. This is a nice little piece dating back to around 2003, wherein Christopher Lee also speaks fondly and movingly about his friendship with Peter Cushing.

The Hounds of the Baskervilles excerpts read by Christopher Lee. A couple of passages are included in this section. Plus there is also an original theatrical trailer (b/w) and an extensive gallery featuring over 140 images including photos, posters and lobby cards.

The packaging includes a reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Paul Shipper and a collector’s booklet featuring new writing on the film by former Hammer archivist Robert J.E. Simpson and illustrated with original archive stills and posters.

If you are prepared to be tolerant of the films minor imperfections – you will no doubt be happy with the overall package. Frankly, it still remains the best version currently open to the market.

Region: B, Rating: PG, Cat No: FCD1110, Duration: 87 minutes, Language: English, Subtitles: English SDH, Aspect Ratio: 1.66:1, Audio: Mono, Colour

http://www.arrowfilms.co.uk/the-hound-of-the-baskervilles/

"WE'RE GONNA KILL THE SWEDE"

By Raymond Benson

The Criterion Collection gave us the DVD versions of these two excellent crime thrillers twelve years ago. The company has now seen fit to upgrade the release to Blu-ray.

Based loosely on a short story by Ernest Hemingway, both versions of The Killers begin with the author's premise and then take off from there in very different directions. It's interesting to see how the respective screenwriters adapted the story and then created two disparate feature-length tales out of it. In Hemingway's piece, two hit men arrive in a small town looking for "The Swede". They terrorize the owner, cook, and a customer in a diner in an attempt to find the guy. After the killers leave in frustration, the customer runs to the Swede's boarding house and finds him in bed with his clothes on. He warns the Swede about the men, but the Swede says he's not going to do anything about it. The customer goes back to the diner and, after realizing no one cares, leaves town. And that’s it.

The 1946 version faithfully captures the short story even down to the dialogue for the first ten minutes. Where the short story ends, the movie goes on and we see the hit men actually kill the Swede (played by Burt Lancaster in his first starring role). Enter Jim Reardon (Edmond O'Brien, with third billing, but he's really the protagonist of the film!) as an insurance inspector. It turns out the Swede had a life insurance policy that benefits an old lady who helped him once. Reardon is determined to uncover the story behind it all, and the rest of the movie follows his investigation into the Swede's life in crime (told entirely in flashbacks). The Swede was a boxer who got mixed up with Big Jim, a racketeer (played by Albert Dekker), and falls in love with Big Jim's gal, Kitty (played by smoking hot Ava Gardner, in one of her first starring roles; Gardner had been kicking around Hollywood since the early 40s and this was her big break). As we all know, it's not good to mess around with the crime boss's dame.

Robert Siodmak received an Oscar nomination for Best Director on the picture (it was also nominated for adapted screenplay, editing, and music score). There's no question that The Killers is a seminal film noir, one of the best of the bunch produced when Hollywood was churning out these types of gritty crime pictures by the dozens. Siodmak's hand is assured as he brings in all the trademark film noir elements: ”expressionistic lighting, a femme fatale, stark brutality, a cynical attitude, flashbacks, a man haunted by the past, and more. The picture could serve as a Film Noir 101 course. Lancaster is fine and Gardner is sexy and dangerous, but it is O'Brien who holds the movie together.

The 1964 version is a different animal. It was produced to be the very first TV movie, but NBC viewed the finished product and deemed it too violent for television. Instead, the producers released it theatrically worldwide. Directed by Don Siegel (billed as "Donald Siegel"), The Killers Mach II stars Lee Marvin and Clu Gulager as the hitmen, who here become the focal point of the new story. John Cassavetes plays the Swede character, only here he is a racecar driver named Johnny. The femme fatale, Sheila, is played by Angie Dickinson, and get this... the crime boss is none other than Ronald Reagan in his last film role before he became a politician.

The film begins basically the same way, but the setting is different. The two hitmen come looking for Johnny and they kill him. Marvin's hitman character then takes over the dramatic action originally performed by O'Brien in the 1946 version. Marvin is the one who wants to find out why he and his partner were hired to kill Johnny, as well as what happened to a load of stolen cash that Johnny may have hidden.

While not as important or engaging as the 1946 edition, The Killers Mach II is worth watching for Siegel's solid craftsmanship. NBC was probably right not to broadcast the picture on television in 1964, given the time period, the movie is pretty brutal. Marvin and Gulager are creepy bad guys, Cassavetes delivers his usual fine work, and Dickinson displays her charms with aplomb. As for Reaga, well, le's just say it's not too difficult to buy him as a crook. In hindsight, given that this guy became a two-term U.S. president, his performance lends a "must-see" element to the picture.

Criterion gives us new high-definition digital restorations of both films (the 1964 version is in color and in 4:3 aspect ratio, since it was shot for television). They look terrific. The black and white contrasts in the 1946 version are especially sharp and unsettlingly beautiful. Almost all of the original supplements are here:Andrei Tarkovsky's student film adaptation of the short story from 1956; a video interview with noir expert/writer, the late Stuart M. Kaminsky; a video interview with Clu Gulager; Stacy Keach reading Hemingway's short story on audio; the Screen Directors Playhouse radio adaptation from 1949 featuring Lancaster and Shelley Winters; an audio excerpt from director Don Siegel's autobiography read by Hampton Fancher; and trailers. The booklets feature essays by novelist Jonathan Lethem and critic Geoffrey O'Brien. Not sure why Criterion left off the production, publicity, and behind-the-scenes stills, actor biographies, production correspondence, Paul Schrader's essay, and music and effects tracks, all which were on the original DVD release. If those things are important to you, then you may want to hold on to it.

But for the Blu-ray restorations alone, The Killers double feature is an excellent buy, especially for fans of film noir and crime pictures in general. 

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

 

NOTE: THIS REVIEW PERTAINS TO THE UK RELEASE

BY DARREN ALLISON

The Train 1964 Directed by John Frankenheimer, Starring Burt Lancaster, Paul Scofield and Jeanne Moreau. Arrow Blu-Ray release date: 11th May 2015

John Frankenheimer ‘s The Train is a realistic and engrossing account of the sabotaging of a Nazi endeavour to smuggle a trainload of art treasures out of France toward the end of World War II. Burt Lancaster gives a fine performance as Labiche, leader of the French railway-workers' resistance – and the man chosen to lead the sabotage and protect “the national heritage and pride of France!” Paul Scofield's Nazi, Von Waldheim, is also excellent as the colonel who rants and rages, almost to the point of obsession, in order to see that nothing stops the train from completing its criminal mission.

Lancaster dominates this movie, his strength; agility and sheer gutsy determination provide a genuine sense of realism. Observing Lancaster (in his sheer physical capacity) is enough to take one’s breath away. Watch those long (often single) takes of him sliding down railway gantry ladders, and running along the trackside before jumping on to the moving train – and you would be hard pushed to feel anything but respect and admiration for his work. The Train is full of astonishing action, collisions, and stunning set pieces – take for example the air strike on the rail yard, an amazing and meticulously executed scene containing some of the most realistic explosions and carnage.

Throughout the thrills and spills, Lancaster also finds time for a little romance with Christine, a tight-lipped, angry widow who runs a railroad-side hotel and played rather nicely by Jeanne Moreau. But don’t let this put you off for a minute, the romance is never given time to dominate or overshadow the film’s narrative. The Train truly remains one of the great films of the sixties. Frankenheimer’s camera often gives the film a documentary style and the stark black and white photography does nothing but enhance the bleak atmosphere of the times. Maurice Jarre’s music score also adds extra depth to the movie without ever getting in the way or overshadowing those realistically essential railroad sounds.

Arrow’s High Definition Blu-ray (1080p) presentation of the film is quite superb. There are good, deep blacks where required, often giving the film an almost noir quality. It is also virtually free of any dust, dirt or speckles, and leaves the previous MGM DVD looking very poor in comparison. The audio comprises of a nice clear uncompressed 1.0 mono PCM track. Additional audio delights come in the way of a commentary by director John Frankenheimer which is both engaging and informative. In addition to that, Arrow has also gifted us with an optional isolated score by composer Maurice Jarre. So there is plenty to be had in terms of audio supplements.

Further extras include: Burt Lancaster in the Sixties – a newly-filmed interview with Lancaster’s biographer Kate Buford, tracing the actor’s career throughout the decade. For me, the real winning bonus material is in the Blu-Ray’s archival footage. This includes a French television news report on the making of The Train, containing interviews with the locals of Acquigny. There is also an original interview with Michel Simon who was so memorable in the role of the stubborn railroad resistance fighter Papa Boule. Plus, there is some wonderful footage of The Train’s gala screening in Marseilles. The original theatrical trailer is also included and rounds off a tidy and generous collection of extra material.

Packaging consists of a sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Vladimir Zimakov. I have to say, I’m not a fan of the new artwork which is a little too abstract for my taste, especially in comparison to the beautiful original poster art, which is thankfully contained on the reverse. I do admire Arrow’s policy of a reversible sleeve, and can’t knock anyone who at least provides a choice...

There is also a very good collector’s booklet featuring new writing on the film by Cinema Retro contributor Sheldon Hall and is illustrated throughout with original stills and artwork.

For genuine fans of great sixties movies, it’s an essential piece of art for your collection.

http://www.arrowfilms.co.uk/

“O BROTHER, WHERE ART PRESTON STURGES?”

By Raymond Benson

As I mentioned in last month’s review of The Criterion Collection’s new Blu-ray release of The Palm Beach Story, Preston Sturges was a rare breed in Hollywood in the early 1940s. After Chaplin, he was the only working screenwriter/director in that he wrote original scripts alone and then directed them, and he put an auteur stamp on each picture in terms of style and themes. Naturally, the bigwigs in Hollywood resented the guy, and Sturges often had a tough time at Paramount, where his most prolific and productive five-year-reign took place. He was a flame that burned very brightly for a short time. This brief career arc of a genius filmmaker is aptly presented in one of the supplements on this new release—Preston Sturges: The Rise and Fall of an American Dreamer, which originally appeared on television’s American Masters program.

Arguably Sturges’ best work, Sullivan’s Travels was released as a DVD from The Criterion Collection over a decade ago. The company has seen fit to upgrade the film to Blu-ray with a new high-definition digital restoration. Naturally, it looks magnificent, and I think by now we can take for granted that Criterion will do a bang-up job on any digital restorations they do.

Much has been written about Sullivan’s Travels and there is no question that it is a remarkable piece of work. It premiered in late 1941 but wasn’t released to the public until early 1942; nevertheless, it received no Oscar nominations and at the time wasn’t as popular as Sturges’ previous pictures. Why? Possibly because it made audiences think. Yes, it’s a comedy, but that’s really only the first half. After that, the picture becomes pretty serious, with a very sympathetic and almost-sentimental social commentary on poverty and the Great Depression. It’s true that the writer/director’s signature fast-and-witty dialogue is present throughout, but the belly laughs are few in this particular title. Maybe audiences in 1942 were wondering what happened to the Preston Sturges they knew. Ironically (and Sturges was very big on irony), the film is now considered a classic and Sturges’ masterpiece.

Joel McCrea plays Sullivan, a popular Hollywood movie director who specializes in comedies. What he really wants to do, however, is make a serious and responsible Capra-esque picture about human suffering, entitled O Brother, Where Art Thou? (And, yes, this is where the Coen Brothers got the title for their movie from 2000.) After much haggling with the studio bosses, Sullivan dresses as a “tramp” and hits the road in order to undergo first-hand what the American people have been experiencing during the Depression. Along the way, he meets beautiful Veronica Lake, and Sully unwittingly allows her to tag along. The movie is then made up of the couple’s various misadventures, including a hard left turn in which Sullivan is sent to a hard labor prison with a mistaken identity. One of the most striking scenes in the picture is when an African-American church opens its doors to the prisoners for a field trip to watch movies projected on the wall. It is there that Sullivan has an epiphany about his work and life—and it’s a very good lesson for us all.

BY DARREN ALLISON

Alexander “Sandy” Mackendrick had enjoyed a succession of triumphs in England. Working out of Ealing studios, he directed such memorable comedies as The Man in the White Suit, Whiskey Galore and the deliciously dark The Ladykillers. As the Ealing factory system began to dry up, Mackendrick made an arguably unlikely move to America. It was through a number of mishaps, unfulfilled projects and (one could argue) a degree of ‘fate’ that Sweet smell of success eventually fell into the lap of Mackendrick. 

Whilst there was little doubt of Mackendrick’s immense ability as a director, there was perhaps an element of doubt whether he could actually undertake a film such as Sweet Smell of Success. After all, those subtle British films were about as far removed as one could possibly imagine when compared to the media dynamics and fuelled corruption of this screenplay. However, Mackendrick had a good eye; a very good eye in fact. Given time to observe the city he knew how to capture it at its best. Through the camera lens, Mackendrick presented Manhattan better than any other contemporary film had done and as a result, undoubtedly influenced esteemed future directors such as Woody Allen.

The film’s ‘master and dog’ relationship between newspaper columnist J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster, playing a thinly-disguised Walter Winchell) and the Machiavellian press publicist Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) is the only one of importance. Lancaster was never more imposing as Hunsecker, whilst Curtis displays a slimy charm and a sickening depravity as Falco. As the relationship unfolds, it becomes a battle of wits and power - Falco believes himself to be in a symbiotic relationship with J.J. — he provides him with the stories he needs - but, by the close, the power imbalance is made depressingly obvious. Feeding off the crumbs left by Hunsecker, Sidney is always destined to be consumed by J.J.’s domineering dictatorship. Whilst Sweet Smell of Success remains a stunning piece of work, it is also not without its flaws - specifically in the romantic relationship between Hunsecker’s sister Susan (Susan Harrison) and Steve (Martin Milner) an aspiring young a jazz musician. Not that there is anything wrong with this coiling plot- the story of Susan’s sinisterly over-protective brother and his scheming through Falco to dishonour Steve’s reputation provides the film’s central narrative. All of it works perfectly. However, it is sadly the performances from the inexperienced Harrison and Milner that hamper the film’s vibrant energy and pace – they are both limp and damp. In contrast, such powerhouse performances from both Lancaster and Curtis, and the provision of a razor sharp script by Ernest Lehman and Clifford Odets – still cements Sweet Smell of Success as one of the greatest films of its kind. Combined with James Wong Howe’s sumptuous deep-focus cinematography and Elmer Bernstein’s brassy musical score and you are left with something damn near close to a perfect movie.

Arrow’s newly restored High Definition (1080p) presentation is a 4K digital transfer from the original 35mm camera negative – and frankly it looks incredible. As Sweet Smell of Success is such a personal favourite of mine, I have followed its evolution on home video - through VHS, laserdisc, DVD and now Blu-ray. it’s been an interesting journey but I feel confident that I have finally arrived at my destination. The film has never looked so crisp and clean. It is spotless and always deserved to look this good. There are a couple of location scenes that look a little ‘too’ real for my liking. I’ve always considered there may be a few lengths of stock footage involved here, but I can’t be sure. Regardless, these random shots fall seamlessly in line with the general atmosphere and harsh realism of the urban setting. Wong Howe’s photography is defined by deep dark blacks, varying arrays of grey shade and subtle use of intelligent lighting. Pin- striped suites and intense close ups are all solid and reveal sharply defined detail. Lancaster’s face and glasses (permanently lit from above) creates a near ‘skull like’ shadow upon his cold gaze, the results of which look rather spectacular in this new Blu-ray edition.

Arrow continue to supply the audio in an original untampered and uncompressed PCM mono 1.0, which is clean and free from any distortion. Extras consist of an appreciation by critic and film historian Philip Kemp, author of Lethal Innocence: The Cinema of Alexander Mackendrick. Kemp appears in the top left of screen presenting a detailed analysis of the film while several scenes are presented. He also provides a selected scene commentary, taking several key and expanding on detail. It does nevertheless raise the question – why didn’t Kemp provide a full commentary track? The man is obviously an expert on the movie and his knowledge would have been very welcome (and valuable) throughout.

The bonus highlight for me is Mackendrick: The Man Who Walked Away – Dermot McQuarrie’s 1986 Scottish Television documentary which features extensive interviews with Mackendrick, Burt Lancaster, producer James Hill, Gordon Jackson and many others. It’s a great example of how documentaries of this kind use to be made – rather than the quick, cross cutting MTV style of documentary making today. It’s certainly one to take time over and enjoy fully.

The film’s original theatrical trailer is also included.

Arrow has again spared no expense in terms of packaging. They have provided a reversible sleeve featuring both an original poster and newly commissioned artwork by Chris Walker. The collector’s booklet (40 pages) includes new writing on the film by Michael Brooke and Mackendrick’s own analysis of various script drafts. It is also illustrated throughout with original stills and posters. It all makes for a wonderful package and one that should be savoured – ‘I love this dirty town!’

CLICK LINK BELOW TO ORDER:

http://www.arrowfilms.co.uk/

BY DARREN ALLISON

Nurse Coffy (Pam Grier) grieves over a sister ruined by drugs and takes murderous revenge on the pimps and pushers who victimized her. When her former policeman boyfriend is beaten for refusing to take bribes, Coffy blasts her way up the corruption trail to drug kingpin Arturo Vitroni (Allan Arbus) and the fabulous pimp master King George (Robert DoQui). But her disillusion is complete when she discovers that her classy politician boyfriend Howard Brunswick (Booker Bradshaw) is also part of the syndicate. Considering “Coffy “was made on a shoestring budget, the film still works very well, which is probably down to Jack Hill’s witty, jive talking script and fine direction. The action is great, probably some of the best to ever emerge from the Blaxploitation / Soul Cinema genre.

Arrow’s Blu-ray release boasts a lush transfer with rich colour detail; the film’s opening pin sharp credits appear to almost leave the screen. The film makes its world début on the Blu-ray format - with a fully restored High Definition (1080p) presentation. Daytime scenes in particular look fresh and revived – with my eyes drawn continuously towards the film’s beautiful solid blue skies. Internal scenes such as the sordid night club sequences retain a balanced warmth without ever losing fine detail. Night shots, however, do vary to some degree with some milky greys appearing in place of solid blacks, but this is no doubt due to the production values and original lighting conditions. Actually, it provides a nice little reminder that the viewer is watching a low budget, genuine grindhouse movie. “Coffy”’s near-perfect re-mastering process more often than not leads us to believe we are watching a much larger budgeted production.

The film’s audio is presented in its original uncompressed mono, which is clear and very acceptable. The masterful soundtrack (produced, composed, and arranged) by Roy Ayers is allowed to flow naturally. Free from any forced tweaking, the film unfolds better for it - while also keeping the purists among us completely satisfied.

The disc's extras are also very impressive. Writer-director Jack Hill’s audio commentary is both enthusiastic and informative. Hill doesn't pause for a second, continuously narrating each shot with production stories, background information on cast and crew and an incredibly interesting insight into the whole social scene including racism and feminist issues – it is both a joy and a first-hand education. Other bonus extras include:

• “A Taste of Coffy“– is a brand new interview with Jack Hill, a few stories are repeated from the audio commentary, but there is also a lot of additional material to digest.
• “The Baddest Chick in Town!” – A brand new interview with Pam Grier on Coffy and its follow up, Foxy Brown is a great little featurette and full of fascinating stories.
• The  original theatrical trailer and an image gallery are also included.

There is also a very good video essay, simply titled ‘Blaxploitation!’, presented by author Mikel J. Koven. I thought this would be the weakest link among the extras, but I was pleasantly surprised – it’s actually a joy from start to finish and had me hanging on to every word. The presentation is also packed with stills and lots of beautifully produced film posters that were representative of the genre.

Arrow have provided an informative booklet and produced a very cool, reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Gilles Vranckx – Overall, it’s all just about perfect.

"COFFY" WILL BE RELEASED ON 6 APRIL. CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON UK 

BY TIM GREAVES

(The following pertains to the UK Region B release)

Utilising more than a smidge of poetic licence, Countess Dracula is the 1971 Peter Sasdy/Hammer offering that recounts the true-life visceral misdemeanours of Hungarian murderess Countess Erzsébat Bathory. The late Ingrid Pitt, who portrayed the titular harridan, was quite outspoken in her disdain for the results, one of her key grievances being director Sasdy’s overly-restrained approach to blood-letting. Given the subject matter’s potential for sanguinary splatter, one has to concur that it’s a fairly coy production, more romantic costume drama with an insidious undercurrent than your traditional Hammer horror fare. Yet, that said, a cleaving aura of doom coupled with some efficient injections of nastiness prevent the film from being a wholly anaemic affair.

When, in a fit of ire, the ageing Countess Elizabeth (Ingrid Pitt) lashes out at her inept maid, she inadvertently discovers that the virginal girl’s blood harbours properties able to restore her youthful beauty. Slaying the girl and bathing in her blood, Elizabeth deigns to assume the identity of her own daughter, Ilona (Lesley-Anne Down), who has not been seen at the castle since being shipped off to boarding school as a child. But no sooner has Elisabeth met and fallen in love with handsome soldier Imre Toth (Sandor Eles), than she realises that the regenerative effects of the maid’s blood are far from permanent and she is only able to sustain her façade by seeking fresh donors to fend off her true, haggard appearance. Finding a willing accomplice in her faithful companion, Captain Dobi (Nigel Green), the slaying begins.

The shortcomings of Jeremy Paul’s slightly lethargic and excessively talky Countess Dracula script can be all but forgiven due to a magnetic performance by Ingrid Pitt, who overcomes questionable post-synch dubbing to be both sensuously provocative in her younger incarnation and frighteningly sadistic (under the increasingly unpleasant layers of Tom Smith’s crone make-up) in her foul, older guise. If there’s less engaging input from Sandor Eles and Lesley Anne-Down, that too is compensated for by excellent character work from Nigel Green (in his penultimate big screen role) and Maurice Denham as a scholarly elder whose discovery of Elisabeth’s secret pegs him for an early exit.

In spite of a few failings – not least its outrageously misleading title, which would certainly have had audiences anticipating some fanged action – Countess Dracula is a lush fairy-tale accompanied by a silken Harry Robinson score which in summation, though not perhaps as worthy of frequent revisit as some of the Hammer classics, is estimable enough evidence of their Gothic cinema supremacy.

Countess Dracula is now available in the UK as a Region B Blu-Ray release as a constituent of Network Distributing’s “The British Film” collection. The hi-definiton transfer is pleasing if not perfect, with occasional minor damage and a fair amount of grain in evidence during darker scenes. It is, however, still a marked improvement on Network’s earlier DVD release. The generous supplementary features are carried over from said DVD, specifically comprising a commentary track featuring Ingrid Pitt, Kim Newman and Stephen Jones, a TV interview with Pitt and a news item on a Bray studios open day back in the late 90s, an episode of the 1970 TV show Conceptions of Murder (starring Nigel Green), an episode of the recently deceased Brian Clemens’ excellent TV series Thriller (showcasing yet another fine Pitt performance) and a number of stills galleries.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON UK

NOTE: IN THE U.S, SYNAPSE FILMS HAS RELEASED A VERY IMPRESSIVE BLU-RAY/DVD COMBO PACK OF "COUNTESS DRACULA"

Special features include:

• Commentary track with Ingrid Pitt, Peter Sasdy, screenwriter Jeremy Paul and film historian Jonathan Sothcott.
• Vintage audio interview with Ingrid Pitt
• A featurette about Pitt's life and career
• Stills gallery
• Original trailer.  

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON USA

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM CINEMA RETRO'S ARCHIVES

By Lee Pfeiffer

Paramount has released a 2 disc special edition of the 1968 comedy classic The Odd Couple as part of the studio's Centennial Collection. The film retains all of its initial appeal, despite the fact that virtually every baby boomer has committed the scenes and dialogue to memory. Although most people regard this as the first historic pairing of Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau, in fact, that occurred with Billy Wilder's 1965 gem The Fortune Cookie which saw Matthau winning the Oscar for supporting actor. The genius behind the story, of course, is Neil Simon, who adapted his smash hit Broadway play for the film. The part of Felix Unger was originally played on Broadway by the great Art Carney, but Lemmon was a much hotter box-office property and got the role in the feature film. The film is creative in the ways it opens up beyond the confines of a Broadway play, and affords some great views of New York City in the late 1960s. The DVD release boasts a widescreen edition of the film that is glorious to behold. In addition to a commentary track by the star's sons, actor Chris Lemmon and director Charlie Matthau, there is a full disc devoted to extras. Much of this consists primarily of talking head shots of various individuals extolling the virtues of the story as well as Lemmon and Matthau, who were regarded as all-around great guys to work with. Among those interviewed are the film's director Gene Saks, Carole Shelley (who played one of the Pigeon sisters), David Sheiner (who played the poker buddy Roy), actor Brad Garrett and even Larry King, who makes a poignant case for his belief that this is The Great American Comedy. Robert Evans, who ran Paramount during that era, is also interviewed and says that Lemmon's salary of $1 million equaled the cost of the rest of the budget. The extras are broken down into mini featurettes that cover most aspects of the film, but concentrate primarily on the Lemmon/Matthau relationship, as the two were best friends throughout most of their careers. (Almost poetically, they died within a year of each other). The segments in which Chris Lemmon and Charlie Matthau express their adoration of their fathers is quite touching and often amusing.  

BY FRED BLOSSER

Stories about domineering fathers and neglected offspring are at least as old as the Bible and Shakespeare.  Gilles Legrand’s “You Will Be My Son” (2012) is a worthy addition to the genre.

Paul de Marseul (Niels Arestrup) is distressed to learn that his friend Francois Amelot (Patrick Chesnais) has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Paul is the wealthy owner of a French vineyard, and Francois has served for more than 30 years as his estate manager: “a fancy name for winemaker,” Francois comments. When Francois announces that he’s too weak from his illness to begin the new production season, Paul’s son Martin (Lorant Deutsch) steps up, eager to take on the responsibility. He handles sales for the company, and he knows Francois’ routine through years of observation. But Paul has no faith in Martin’s abilities as a vintner, and the two men moreover have a strained personal relationship. Paul instead gravitates to Francois’ son Philippe (Nicolas Bridet), who has returned from America after hearing of his father’s illness. To Paul, Philippe is everything that his own son isn’t -- charming, self-confident, and by instinct and experience, a promising winemaker. As Paul begins to displace Martin with Philippe, symbolically at first and then with the idea of making Philippe his son through legal action, resentments seethe and eventually explode.

In an American version 50 or 60 years ago, Paul would have been played by a powerhouse like Rod Steiger, Lee J. Cobb, Karl Malden, or Spencer Tracy. Niels Arestrup (who may be familiar to U.S. audiences from roles in “War Horse” and “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”) invests the role with comparable ferocity. Deutsch and Bridet (who would have been Anthony Perkins and Ben Gazzara opposite Steiger or Cobb back in the day) offer solid support. The scenes between Arestrup and Deutsch are so raw and real that the confrontations are almost as painful for the viewer as for the emotionally starved Martin. Equally fine performances are provided by Chesnais as the ailing Francois and Valérie Mairesse as his outspoken spouse Madeleine, who watch the situation with growing dismay, and Anne Marivin as Martin’s supportive wife Alice.

As Paul confronts Martin, Martin confronts Philippe, and Alice confronts Paul, you’re initially inclined to regard Paul and Philippe as the villains and Martin as the victim with whom you should sympathize. However, as the story progresses, Legrand begins to paint the characters in more ambiguous shades. A development late in the movie seems like a macabre twist out of a Guy de Maupassant tale, setting up what would appear to be a happy ending for some of the characters. But is it a happy ending?

Cohen Media Group’s classy Blu-ray includes a sharp transfer in French with English subtitles, deleted scenes, interviews with Deutsch and Legrand, the theatrical trailer, and a handsome inset booklet with credits and stills from the movie.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

Steven Awalt – author interviewed by Todd Garbarini

“Well, it’s about time, Charlie!”

Dennis Weaver utters these words in my favorite Steven Spielberg film, Duel, a production that was originally commissioned by Universal Pictures as an MOW, industry shorthand for “movie of the week”, which aired on Saturday, November 13, 1971. The reviews were glowing; the film’s admirers greatly outweighed its detractors and it put Mr. Spielberg, arguably the most phenomenally successful director in the history of the medium, on a path to a career that would make any contemporary director green with envy. Followed by a spate of contractually obligated television outings, Duel would prove to be the springboard that would catapult Mr. Spielberg into the realm that he was shooting for since his youth: that of feature film directing. Duel would also land him in the court of Hollywood producers David Brown and Richard Zanuck and get him his first theatrical film under his belt, 1974’s The Sugarland Express. It would be the 1975 blockbuster smash success of his second film, Jaws, similar in theme to Duel in that a seemingly unstoppable monster is eventually put down following an inexorable chase of cat-and-mouse, which would make him a household name. Yes, Charlie, it is about time that this phenomenal film got its own book, one that is dedicated to the story’s origin and creation. Painstakingly researched by Spielberg scholar Steven Awalt, the aptly-titled Steven Spielberg and DUEL: The Making of a Film Career is an excellent book now available in hardcover, paperback and for the Kindle from Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.

The volume starts at the beginning with Duel’s author, the late Richard Matheson, the man responsible for some of the most interesting, frightening, and best short stories of the genre and some of the most memorable episodes of television’s The Twilight Zone (1959 – 1964) such as Third from the Sun, Nick of Time, The Invaders, Little Girl Lost, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet, and Night Call. Author Awalt expertly describes the terrifying, dangerous and death-defying real-life incident that compelled Mr. Matheson to pen the story, and the fascinating journey it took until it was published in the April 1971 issue of Playboy Magazine which made its way into the hands of Steven Spielberg’s secretary. Through interviews with the remaining crew members who worked on Duel, Mr. Awalt covers every aspect of the film’s inception, creation (actual filming and subsequent editing into answer print form) and ultimate presentation. What is interesting to note is that although Duel originated as a TV-movie, the film’s success in the form of excellent critical reception and high Nielsen ratings resulted in the director being given additional capital to increase it from its standard 74-minute running time to the more acceptable 90-minute length it required for release in movie theaters, and it played briefly in select markets in the spring of 1983. It is this 90-minute version of the film that is known the world over.

Illustrated with publicity shots and storyboards created by the director, Steven Spielberg and DUEL is the last word on this terrific thriller that the director originally wanted to make without any dialogue (interestingly, the Twilight Zone episode The Invaders was originally conceived this way). Everything you ever wanted to know about how the film came about is covered in this exhaustively researched book. Best of all, Universal is releasing the Steven Spielberg Director’s Collection on Blu-ray, and one of the titles included in this collection is Duel.

I recently spoke with Mr. Awalt about his book and genuine love for all things Spielberg.

Todd Garbarini: Based on what I have read about you, it is my understanding that you became a fan of Steven Spielberg after your first viewing of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Please tell me about that, as that is exactly the same way that I became familiar with his work.

Steven Awalt: Yes, that is correct. My family and I saw it in the early winter of 1978. I was five years-old at the time, and my parents had earlier taken me to see Star Wars in a drive-in during the summer before. So between those two films, they really had a huge impact on me. I was also familiar with the Walt Disney films, as well as Jim Henson's work, but Steven Spielberg was the first director who I saw as a real filmmaker. The story of the making of Close Encounters of the Third Kind is the one book that I really, really want to write.

TG: I had the exact same reaction you did. I saw Star Wars in the summer of 1977, not at a drive-in but at a two-screen movie theater. Five months later for my birthday my parents took me to see it again and this time the trailer for Close Encounters was presented before the film. I remember being frightened and finding certain images from the film to be very intense, like the interrogation scene between Richard Dreyfus, Francois Truffaut and Bob Balaban. Like you, I had been used to seeing the Walt Disney cartoons. In a way, this was my introduction to more mature, adult filmmaking. I knew about Jaws in the summer of 1975 and knew some kids who had seen it. When it came to Close Encounters, I was just blown away by that film. It's one of the great cinematic experiences of my childhood. I almost feel that after having seen Star Wars and Close Encounters, I was kind of spoiled because I was expecting to see all the other directors making movies just as great as those films, especially when you consider that on the heels of that you had The Empire Strikes Back, Raiders of the Lost Ark and E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial.

SA: E.T. is actually my personal favorite Spielberg film. I have a really deep personal connection to the film.

TG: I can certainly understand that. He captures children in a way that I've never seen from anyone else, except maybe for Truffaut.

SA: Yes, I can't think of any other filmmakers who are as real and as honest with children. I think that Steven has always been that way, even if you look at Hook you see the way the children relate to each other.

Todd Garbarini: I first heard of Duel when Steven Spielberg appeared on The Dick Cavett Show in June 1981 while doing publicity for Raiders of the Lost Ark. He talked about Duel and a man being chased down by a large truck, and I wondered how I never heard of the film, not knowing that it was a TV-movie. About a year later, I was in my 7^th grade English class and we were required to read short story collections and write compositions on them. A collection caught my eye, and Duel was one of the stories. I read it and was hooked on Richard Matheson’s writing. In 1983 I begged my father to take me to New York to see Duel during a brief theatrical exhibition following the worldwide success of E.T. but it didn’t last long enough for us to get to see it. I finally saw it on VHS in 1988 and loved it. How did you come to see Duel and what was your reaction to it?

SA: I saw it on television with my dad, but I don't remember it to the extent that I remembered seeing Close Encounters in the theater. I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark, of course, and Poltergeist was also a big film for me. However, I don't recall what it was like seeing it for the first time. My father and I watched Raiders of the Lost Ark many times together. He introduced me to a lot of great movies, including 2001: A Space Odyssey. Jaws was also a movie that I saw on television, I think that was first on in 1980 on ABC, or was it NBC?

TG: It was on ABC, it premiered in November 1979. That took a full four years to come to network television.

SA: Oh, wow. Yeah, that was how our generation saw movies in the days before VHS.

TG: I know, remember that? When a big movie was premiering on television, it was an event that my friends and I really looked forward to. It didn't matter that it had commercials, because none of my friends, except for one, had cable television. Now, forget about it. You don't even have to own the movie; you can simply go to YouTube and watch almost anything that you want. I found Amblin (1968) on there. When The Warriors was released in 1979, there was a lot of controversy surrounding it, stories of gangs fighting in movie theaters. When it came to ABC in 1981, that is how I first saw it. I didn't see it on cable or on home video, I saw it on network television. I think that’s how a lot of us saw movies from the 1970s. The networks would sometimes air movies with alternate titles. That’s how I saw Suppose They Gave a War and Nobody Came? (1970), which aired as War Games and Escape to Athena (1979), which aired as The Golden Raiders, and Ffolkes (1979) which aired as Assault Force.

SA: Yeah, that's how I first saw 1941 (1979). I have a soft spot in my heart for that film. It's a bit of a mess, but it has really great work in it. The miniatures are really beautiful in that movie. Yeah, it was a whole different era. Young audiences today almost don't know what it's like to go see a movie like Star Wars in the drive-in. For people like you and I, you'd see a movie in the theaters, and that it would come to network television and would really be something to look forward to. Then there was the dawn of home video in the form of VHS in the late 70s and early 80s. I think that the first movie I saw on VHS was The Muppet Movie, that might've been in 1981. Then in 1982 I saw Time Bandits. What a different era it was back then, having time to watch those movies over and over again!

TG: I saw both of those films in the theater, but the first home video format that my family owned was the RCA Select-A-Vision Capacitance Electronic Disc system, or CED for short, which necessitated purchasing movies. The Muppet Movie and Time Bandits were two titles that I owned. Star Wars and Poltergeist with the first two movies I ever purchased and they were in that format. I just watched them over and over and over again, on a 13” color TV, no less. Most people don't even remember that system, they tend to confuse it with Pioneer’s laserdisc format. It's interesting, Jaws was the first movie released on laserdisc; it was through MCA's DiscoVision line. The movie was spread out the five sides! Can you imagine?

SA: Yeah, I actually have the letterboxed laserdisc special edition of Jaws, that thing cost $150.

TG: My favorite action film is The Road Warrior. The stunts and camerawork are groundbreaking, but there are a few shots where it almost looks like a Mack Sennett comedy in that the cameras were undercranked and the action moves too quickly. I never noticed that in Duel. To your knowledge, was Duel shot without any undercranking?

SA: There was one shot where that happens, but it actually helps. The frame rate was actually increased and the camera was overcranked. It's a long shot where the vantage point is that of Dennis Weaver's character, David Mann, and the truck is just plowing around the corner coming towards him.

TG: Was there any behind-the-scenes footage shot on this movie, or was it done on such a low-budget that that wasn't even a consideration?

SA: Yeah, it was very low-budget, even the amount of stills that were taken is very small. They didn't really have a dedicated on-the-set photographer.

TG: What is the biggest difference between the theatrical cut and the television cut?

SA: The biggest and most obvious difference between the two is the opening. The first few minutes where the camera begins in the garage, pulls back and drives through downtown traffic was all added later so that it could be released theatrically.

TG: Yes, I remember when first saw it I thought, You mean to tell me that they let him do this for a television movie? I was astonished. But I was completely wrong!

SA: Yeah, exactly. The television cut begins with Dennis Weaver's car driving from left to right in the frame as he is on his way to his business appointment. Of course, the scenes with him on the phone talking to his wife and his run-in with the school bus were also added later.

TG: Most of those streets look the same today. The last time I was in Los Angeles was November 2008 and I drove along most of those same roads. I made it a point to go to Milky Way, the restaurant owned and run by Leah Adler (Steven Spielberg's mother). She was there that day, and I sat and talked with her for a while about how much her son’s movies changed my life. It was great walking to the bathroom as the hallway is flanked with movie posters of his films. When did you first meet Mr. Spielberg?

SA: In 2006. I originally ran a website dedicated to his movies from 2001 until 2009. So, I had been writing for the website for a while. In February 2006, I received a FedEx package from DreamWorks. I figured it was stills from his films or something to that effect, because I had never even broached the subject of interviewing him. It turned out to be a letter from Steven Spielberg, and he told me how much he enjoyed my writing and really like the website. Eight months later he was being given a lifetime achievement award at the Chicago Film Festival and I met him on the red carpet and we talked for a while. I did a sort of mini-interview with him. The highlight of the evening, in addition to meeting him of course, was when he introduced me to Roy Scheider.

TG: I am experiencing major jealousy pangs right now! (laughs)

SA: (laughs)

TG: God, Roy Scheider. I would've loved to have met and spoken with both of them. The French Connection is my favorite film –

SA: Oh, my God, I love The French Connection.

TG: I was fortunate enough to meet most of the cast members of the film, such as Gene Hackman, Tony LoBianco, and even Sonny Grosso. The icing on the cake was meeting William Friedkin. I also met Chris Newman, who recorded the sound on the film. One of my biggest regrets, however, has not being able to meet Roy Scheider.

SA: Yeah, All That Jazz is a great film.

TG: Yes, in fact the Criterion Collection released that on Blu-ray. He was great in Marathon Man, Sorcerer, and The Seven-Ups from 1973, which is a film that a lot of people don't even know about.

SA: Yes, meeting Roy Scheider was a great life moment for me. And then I guess around 2011 I pitched the idea of the Duel book to Steven Spielberg's people and he said yes right away, he thought it was a great idea. He even invited me out to interview him before I even had a chance to ask him if I could interview him. I cannot say enough about him, he's just such a nice man and is so genuine. You hear the story all the time that when you're in conversation with him, and you think about all the things that he has going on in his life, he's just right there and he's 100% completely focused on what you're talking about as he's talking to you. Even in conversations, he's a really great storyteller, which really isn’t surprising! When I was out in L.A. interviewing him, he showed me a photo of himself standing next to Federico Fellini and he was talking about this memory that he had of meeting him in 1973 and there was such excitement in his voice about this memory that was nearly 40 years-old. He's got such a deep appreciation of film history and such excitement about it, and he's also one of the pinnacles of it!

TG: Well, he's just like us. He is first and foremost a movie fanatic. I could literally spend hours talking to him about not only his experiences on the sets of his own movies, and I would love to hear some stories that he has to tell about what went on behind the scenes of his films and so forth, but also his impressions of other directors and other movies that he has seen growing up and even the new films that are out now and what's still inspires him. He isn't just some hack who is out there trying to make money, he honestly and truly loves this stuff. Were you able to see his early work? I know that he's not a fan of Amblin, a film that I really like very much, especially the main theme song. Did you get to see Firelight or any of the short films that he did as a teenager?

SA: I've seen everything he's done with the exception of his episode of Owen Marshall, Counselor at Law, nor could I find his two episodes of The Psychiatrist. I spoke to Sid Sheinberg about it, and he remarked that one of the episodes, called Par for the Course, was one of the most moving pieces of work he had ever seen. Spielberg was in his early twenties when he did it. The episode is about death, friendship, and losing a friend. But, like I said, that's one that I haven't been able to locate and I'm really interested in seeing it. You look at the The Sugarland Express, for example, and it's frustrating for me to look back now on even some of the good critical notices the film got. For example, Pauline Kael said that Spielberg was very good at moving the cars around. But, when you look at the movies, whether they involve cars, sharks, spaceships or whatever, even though those are brilliant and exciting cinematic creations, and even going back to his early television work pre-Duel, he was always about the characters. Their personalities and the situations that they get caught up in are always first and foremost the most important aspects of the story. I've always felt that he's been an incredibly humanistic director and I think that unfortunately that aspect of his career has been totally lost on a lot of critics. Getting back to Sugarland, I don't believe that the cars are the main focus or the main aspect of that story. The characters are really special, and the fact that a lot of the leading critics didn't see that at the time is almost mind-boggling. Still to this day he carries that reputation with him. It's really amazing to me that when people talk about his work, and I don't know if this is attributed to jealousy or snobbery or whatever, they just don't give him the credit that he deserves. I also think that a lot of the times the critics were comparing him to highly established directors who were in their fifties and sixties at the time. You have to look at it in perspective. Spielberg was a guy in his twenties. How many people have that kind of perspective into the human condition in their twenties? But for him to have that human angle even in a film like Duel is amazing. The intercutting between the car and truck - the film is ultimately about a man and his paranoia. So he has enormous insight into the psychology of the Dennis Weaver character. What an amazing young filmmaker to be able pull off something like that at his age.

TG: Would you say that his experience on Duel prepared him for the desert truck chase sequence in Raiders of the Lost Ark?

SA: No, I wouldn't say that because the truck chase was done during principal photography and was shot by Mickey Moore. Steven conceived and storyboarded it, but Mickey Moore shot it with the second unit crew. I remember when I read that and thought, I really thought that Steven had been out there shooting that whole thing. But, despite the fact that he didn't, it works brilliantly in the film and actually got a lot of subsequent work for Mickey Moore. This is always a tough thing because I do believe…I don’t want to say auteur theory necessarily, as I think that's become a denigrated term now, but to deny authorship I think is ludicrous. Everything in a film is funneled through either a director’s filter or a very strong producer’s filter, so obviously when you look at a filmography like Steven’s or any other dominant and very personal director obviously authorship is something that should definitely be considered. I still think his fingerprints are all over it. Don't get me started on Poltergeist, by the way!

TG: (laughs) I saw that movie the weekend that it opened. My friend and I sat through it twice. It played next door to Kill Squad.

SA: Oh, I love Poltergeist, even to this day. The first time that I saw it was when I was playing with some friends and neighbors. The adults were inside watching it on television and I basically saw it through the screen door. I couldn’t hear it well at all, but I was so excited to see it.

TG: I have seen Poltergeist many, many times. It's one of my favorite movies ever. Thinking along those lines, and this kind of thing started for me with Star Wars, it was only in 1977 that I would go back to see a favorite movie multiple times. Prior seeing to seeing Star Wars, I don't ever remember doing that. There weren't any films that I had seen that made me want to go see them more than once, although I did sit through two screenings of Peter Pan during a 1976 rerelease in the summertime. Superman the Movie was another pivotal film for me. For one thing, these movies stayed in theaters for a very long time, and if friends of mine and I loved it, which we invariably did, we would always go see them on our birthdays. Our parents would wonder why in the world we would want to see the same movies over and over again instead of new movies. John Williams’ music, without taking anything away from the writers, producers, directors, and actors, the overall cast and crew of all of these films, I really believe is what makes those films what they are.

SA: I completely agree and I don't think that the filmmakers would disagree with that statement at all. I think that they would be right there with you.

TG: I've read that Mr. Spielberg even cuts to Mr. Williams’ music. The two of them have gone on to such an amazing collaboration, far more so than the one between Alfred Hitchcock and Bernard Herrmann which, as you well know, was argumentative and often combative. However, Herrmann clearly enhanced Hitchcock's movies immeasurably. Imagine Psycho without those strings?

SA: I know!

TG: Billy Goldenberg wrote excellent music for Duel, in addition to several other shows directed by Mr. Spielberg. I have always felt that his music has been woefully underrepresented on soundtrack albums. Do you know if there are any plans to release his music from these Spielberg projects on CD?

SA: Not to my knowledge, no. He is very underrepresented on disc, it’s a real shame. A lot of the soundtrack album companies are doing a really terrific job in getting a lot of the scores out there in terms of getting them out of the vault. However, there really is still so much work to do for scores from that era. I really think that Billy’s scores need a release. And even John Williams’s score to Sugarland, this is the only score from his collaboration with Spielberg that has never been released. Now this is like the missing link. I have heard from soundtrack producers at Universal, at least previously anyway, they were very tight with what they allowed to come out of their vaults. I would love to see a score for Sugarland released, and also for Duel obviously.

TG: Well, with your excellent book on Duel and the new Blu-ray release of the film in the Steven Spielberg Director’s Collection, let’s hope that this leads to a soundtrack release.

SA: Sounds good to me!

CLICK HERE TO ORDER "STEVEN SPIELBERG AND DUEL: THE MAKING OF A FILM CAREER" FROM AMAZON

CLICK HERE TO ORDER "STEVEN SPIELBERG: THE DIRECTOR'S COLLECTION" ON BLU-RAY FROM AMAZON 

CLICK HERE TO ORDER "DUEL" DVD COLLECTOR'S EDITION FROM AMAZON