The Grim Cellar

2009, US, Directed by Sam Raimi

Colour, Running Time: 99 minutes

Review Source: Cinema Screening; Image: 2.39:1 Super 35

After an extended hiatus away from anything too gruesome or terrifying, Sam Raimi - now mainstream director extraordinaire thanks to his levitation to greater heights with Spider-Man 1, 2, and 3 - is back seemingly attempting to prove that he still has the ability to shock. Actually I reckon he was feeling a little caged by his prolonged commercial viability in Hollywood (and its associated restrictions for all but those at the top) and wanted to metaphorically let his hair down for a while before heading into production on Spider-Man 4. Can Raimi appease some of the older hardcore fans who have remained addicted to The Evil Dead and its bloody good first sequel for all of these years (i.e. me, et al.)? I enjoy the Spidey movies personally and have no problem with someone evolving their career from low-budget origins, and the likes of Raimi and Peter Jackson demonstrate what amazing talent can spawn from the horror genre when that talent is allowed to flourish. However I wasn’t really sure what to expect with Drag Me To Hell…

It’s really nice that Raimi can get his slightly older brother Ivan involved in bigger budget productions such as this and the preceding Peter Parker films - Sam’s movies always feel like Edward Wood-type scenarios whereby he hangs around with a core motley crew of contributors, those whom he presumably feels secure with and able to rely on. So Sam and Ivan wrote this story (reportedly back in the early nineties before being sidetracked with other endeavours) about Christine Brown, a career-driven banker woman who is cursed by an old gypsy following her ulterior refusal to prevent repossession of the gypsy’s property. Brown soon begins experiencing frightening visions and learns from a possibly dodgy fortune-teller that the curse will result in her being ‘dragged to Hell’ in three days time if she cannot prevent it somehow, though it will be three days of increasingly malevolent supernatural activity. First she gives animal sacrifice a bash, to no avail, then the services of an exorcist-like medium, who dies following a violent séance, and then the old Night of the Demon trick - passing the item that holds the curse on to another owner. Mixed up in all of this is her rivalry with a fellow banker as they both compete for the recently vacated assistant manager position at their branch, plus the prospect of Brown impressing her boyfriend’s uppity parents as they (particularly the mother) look down on her due to her origins as a farm girl. Her boyfriend (the likable Justin Long from Jeepers Creepers) meanwhile attempts to bring sanity to the whole mess, sticking with his girl through escalating situations of difficulty and unable to tell his parents precisely what to do with their preconceived notions of what’s right for him.

Brown’s predicament seems a little contrived but the Raimis successfully manage to make us feel a tad sorry for her as her desire to please and progress only winds her up in deep problems to the point where her very soul is under threat. However the schizophrenic approach to the story turn this on its head as the character resorts to animal sacrifice to ward off the invading demon - perhaps the writers are suggesting that anybody is capable of such malicious action when subjected to certain conditions. They’d be correct of course but I’m not sure this was as well conveyed as it could have been. There is an overt reliance on jump effects to fool the audience into thinking they’re scared - this often works but is so overused in modern genre products that it’s a little tiresome, and tiring. However, some of these effects admittedly have impact. As the movie gains momentum it becomes obvious that Raimi is having some fun - the séance/possession sequence really steps back into Evil Dead territory, and for a few minutes I thought minimal tweaks to this film could have resulted in another feasible chapter in the franchise. It’s a perverse cross between horror and slapstick comedy that only Raimi produces in such a ridiculous but effective fashion, and I’d argue that his style is better realised here than in Army of Darkness, which for me was too far down the slapstick route for it to be anything other than irritating. As with Evil Dead 2 the balance here is good, though many audience members not familiar with these earlier flicks may wonder what the hell is happening on occasions. Aside from several cool in-jokes throughout (the periodic appearance of a similar car to that used in Evil Dead) it’s honestly a real shame that there’s no Bruce Campbell in sight - I‘ve come to expect at the very least a cameo from the man in this director‘s films. There is a sadistic edge to Drag Me To Hell that’s satisfactory - it makes you squirm in places (Raimi won‘t be winning any fans in Help The Aged), gives you a few frights, causes a smile here and there, and sometimes forces you to stare in utter bewilderment at the onscreen activities. The morbid graveyard exhumation is especially a highlight for me and the conclusion is beautifully grim. As aforementioned, the movie is a touch schizophrenic in many respects and it won’t necessarily find classic status but it is a welcome return to the genre for a director who’s been noticeably absent for some time.

1988, Italy, Directed by Lamberto Bava

Colour, Running Time: 87 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, Divid2000; Video: Letterbox 1.78:1, Audio: DD Mono

Rather than continue the story exactly where Demons left off, the writers of the sequel adopted the novel idea of retelling a very similar story that occurs elsewhere, and using a number of the same actors too. Instead of watching a movie in a theatre the eventual victims of the demon plague here inhabit a high-rise apartment block and whilst passing their time away with various inoffensive activities such has having parties, training in the onsite gym, and keeping the prostitution industry afloat, they have their TVs on in the background whereby an apparently fictitious film portrays the coming of a demon plague… Before long one of the creatures of the onscreen story has supernaturally escaped (almost Videodrome-style) from the TV of an apartment where a crazy party is underway and, as in the first movie, hell breaks loose and the slaughtered partygoers are soon transformed into the bloodthirsty undead. Thus a rampage through the apartment block takes place as its innocent dwellers fall victim to the relentlessly violent monsters.

I’m not sure if choosing to follow the path that the sequel does - almost remaking the first movie - is a good or bad idea. Demons 2 doesn’t work as well as its predecessor, that much is sure, but I don’t think its failings are specifically attributable to the notion of telling almost exactly the same story. It’s certainly fun spotting a couple of the original cast (who were horribly murdered in the first outing) show up again to reprise different roles (though with almost identical personalities) and the pace of the story is built up from relaxed to frantic levels, then maintained in a similar fashion. A number of the same crew are also present: Lamberto takes up directorial reins again, Dario Argento returns to produce and write (with Franco Ferrini and Dardano Sacchetti), Gianlorenzo Battaglia is once again responsible for functional cinematography, and special effects maestro Sergio Stivaletti helps out with prosthetics and mechanised creations as before. So why doesn’t Dèmoni 2: L’incubo Ritorna (the subheading translating as The Nightmare Returns) quite do the trick? On first seeing this film around 1991/2 I was fooled into thinking the film works just as well, but multiple viewings bring about the realisation that there are problems: Simon Boswell replaces Claudio Simonetti in the music department and whilst his contributions are adequately executed the deliberately non-metal soundtrack choices don’t inject the proceedings with the same energy and chaotic drive (I remember reading an interview with Boswell where he stated that he wanted to move away from metal for the sequel; I think this was a misjudgement on his part personally). Next is the overall gruesomeness, which is substantially reduced compared to Demons. I understand that it was originally intended to be just as gory but was cut down prior to release - again this stripped down violence makes the film feel somewhat anaemic after sitting through the first film, particularly noticeable if watching them in the same evening. If a ‘special edition’ of some kind was to reinstate the excised footage we could be in for a more satisfactory thrill ride. Finally there are moments of the plain illogical - okay, I hear you scream that the original wasn’t exactly the artistic result of a college science project, but the sequel takes ridiculous liberties even with the flimsy laws already established (what was all that about with the TV monitors at the end?). Having said all that there is still a consistent flavour underlying the story that makes it watchable for fans of the first, the special effects that have remained are pretty visceral, and, despite the music itself not lending itself so well to the material, I love the way The Cult’s Rain plays as a backing track to the aftermath of the party massacre. In summary though, Demons 2 is at least a little bit disappointing.

This old UK DVD looks smooth enough despite a low bitrate and some digital problems but the audio here is one of the worst transfer jobs I’ve ever heard: levels are all over the place and sounds are frequently so muffled even a sudden and aggravated swivel of the volume knob barely helps - I don’t think the film sounded this bad on videotape. So aside from a surprisingly comprehensive presence of extras the presentation of the film itself is a major letdown.

1985, Italy, Directed by Lamberto Bava

Colour, Running Time: 88 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R1, Anchor Bay; Video: Letterbox 1.66:1, Audio: DD 5.1

If you want artistic intellectualism, cultured dialogue, or existential relevance in your movies, don’t come to Lamberto Bava. Despite his dad being a bit of an auteur in the cult genres, a flamboyant technician with a great sense of aesthetics along with the raw talent to innovate in his efforts in the creation of unique shots, Lamberto took up the directorial reigns to knock out bloodshed movies that would appeal almost exclusively to the lower cerebral functions. That’s not a bad thing. Demons begins with a young woman (who’s on her way home from work or university presumably) receiving a complementary ticket to see a movie. Tagging her friend along they both head off to the cinema where a reasonable size audience has gathered to watch the mysterious film, which turns out to be a horror story about Nostradamus’s apparent prediction of a demonic plague becoming a reality. Some of the viewers are perplexed when certain events in the movie begin to mirror what’s happening in the theatre and suddenly there is an outbreak of demonic possession outside of the film. All hell breaks loose in the cinema as people are ripped apart, subsequently transforming into the very monsters that killed them, while others flee in panic only to find that the exits have been blocked - as death and mayhem escalate it would appear that there is no escape for the survivors.

Young Bava had made a small but noticeable mark on the genre world already with the macabre Macabre and the moderately stylish (if overlong) modern giallo Blade in the Dark in the early eighties, and Demons (or Dèmoni) would pretty much sledgehammer his presence on the scene: whilst it is minimalist in terms of plot development and characterisations (though there are a few feeble attempts at the latter) the movie delivers profoundly on violence, gore, suitably ghastly demons, sheer ruthlessness, etc. Taking a good half hour to get going (where the spectators are generally sitting around watching the onscreen action unfold while telling each other to shut up, or generally attempting to mate), once the action does kick off it’s like the gates of hell have opened up. What gives the scenario some impact is the setting: everyone being inexplicably trapped within in a labyrinthine cinema has a cool vibe about it, and one that brings a little bit of a sinister edge with it too. Periodic injections of humour also elevate the darker elements of the story, usually in the form of some of the characters’ oddball lines (the black guy has some of the best of these). Of course the film’s crew did boast some respectable talent working alongside Lamberto: acclaimed director (at the time!) Dario Argento both produced the film and wrote the screenplay (with Lamberto and Franco Ferrini) based on a story by Dardano Sacchetti (writer of most of Lucio Fulci’s best films, amongst many others), and Claudio Simonetti wrote a significant portion of the soundtrack, he of course being famous as one of the collaborators and originators of Italian prog-instrumentalists Goblin. Aside from Simonetti’s typically distinctive contributions there’s a great choice of metal tracks granting the bloody action with some bite, making the movie almost a cinematic celebration of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal era that had reached its summit by the time Demons was released. Saxon’s Everybody Up and Accept’s Fast as a Shark are notable highlights though of course this choice of music won’t suit everyone, however I think it makes good accompaniment to some of the crazy antics of the characters. Stripping genre cinema down to its fundamental constituents Demons is basically a kick-ass, rock n’ roll, gory roller coaster ride.

Still unsurpassed as far as I’m aware this Anchor Bay disc was released in the US some time around 1999. The dull, non-enhanced transfer is reasonable though nothing more. The accurate aspect ratio is welcome while a dated attempt at creating a 5.1 surround track from antiquated elements does bring some weight to the soundtrack, even if the audio is still a little centred at the front side of the soundstage. A commentary from the director (among other people), a featurette and trailer round out the DVD package.

1993, US, Directed by Henry Selick

Colour, Running Time: 76 minutes

Review Source: Blu-ray, RB, Disney; Video: 1080p 24fps 1.66:1, Audio: D TrueHD

Jack Skellington is an influential force in Halloween Town: the inhabitants look up to him to orchestrate the arrangements of each Halloween night, the primary purpose being to annually frighten the residents of the human world above and then spend the rest of the year preparing the following festival. But from Jack’s point of view the whole routine is becoming meaningless. As with most reasonably intelligent individuals he’s beginning to question the point of it all and yearns for something to break the mould. One night wandering through an unexplored part of the woods he stumbles across a doorway to Christmas Town. Having a look around the place his enthusiasm is re-ignited as he decides to take over the Christmas celebrations of the human world and add his own personal spin on things. Authorising the kidnapping of ‘Sandy Claws’ to keep the big man out of the way, Jack utilises the help of Halloween Town’s infinitely macabre residents to prepare some new ways of celebrating. But being a little misguided Jack manages to make a bit of a mess of things when he angers humanity with his strange gifts (severed heads, snakes, etc.), putting his own life in peril in the process.

Derived from a story and accompanying sketches produced by Burton several years previous, Disney (the film was eventually released under their more ‘adult’ subsidiary, Touchstone Pictures) bravely permitted the project to be realised using stop motion animation, an incredibly time consuming and arduous technique that involves meticulously moving hand crafted models frame by frame, each shot usually accommodating either 1/12th or 1/24th of a second depending on the level of sophistication required. It’s worth remembering that CGI was in its relative infancy at the time and the first fully computer animated feature (Toy Story) was still a couple of years away so at this point traditional 2D (generally drawn) was the method of choice for the majority of full length animated films. To take on a feature project using the laborious stop motion process was close to madness but thankfully it’s something that appears to have paid off, both critically and commercially - the movie’s subsequent success easily returned profits on the original investment of (approximately) eighteen million dollars.

The magnitude of this technical achievement, however, would have been nothing were it not for the abundance of incredibly imaginative ideas on display: every single shot oozes dark beauty both in the designs and character movements. Each hand-created model, from ornaments and buildings to trees and entire towns, is almost a work of art in its own right, the pinnacle being the characters themselves: accurately reflecting Burton’s original sketches these statuettes are brought to life so exquisitely they could fool you into thinking they’re autonomous entities in their own right. Jack Skellington himself makes a charismatic lead, someone with both entertaining personality and the deeper flaws that almost bring about his downfall as he desperately tries to understand and emulate a cultural tradition that he’s completely unfamiliar with. Though the results of his actions bring about despair upon humankind he’s not specifically an evil person, more so misguided and misunderstood, hence there is a complexity there not as common as it should be in feature films, both live-action and animated. His stubborn attempts to bring meaning to his own life through recreating the Christmas spirit are counter-balanced by Sally, someone who can see clearly what’s going wrong but can’t quite get her point across. Of course she has her own problems in the form of scientist and captor, the gorgeously realised Dr Finkelstein. The efforts of the artists don’t stop at the primary characters though - even bit parts (especially the fantastic human children) are great to watch, ensuring there are things going on that you’ll be noticing afresh for viewings to come.

Danny Elfman must have loved this project, composing a near constant score as well as writing the lyrics throughout and providing the singing voice for Jack. Not being a fan of musicals I admittedly didn’t warm to the soundtrack until after perhaps two or three viewings; nowadays it’s impossible to imagine this film sounding any other way. Of course Burton himself didn’t actually direct this film - his name over the title reflects the fact that it’s based on his story, visuals and concepts. While he stood in as producer (along with, at that point, regular collaborator Denise Di Novi) Henry Selick was offered directorial duties, something that requires a certain degree of awareness outside of the norm due to the extremely slow nature of filming. It may be fair to say that Selick’s contribution was initially less acknowledged than it should have been, what with Burton’s creative shadow obscuring recognition of the lesser known man’s presence somewhat. What’s almost as bad is the fact that he then went on to direct James and the Giant Peach, a Roald Dahl story that Burton obviously had not created, so the producers added Dahl’s name above the title! The talented guy just doesn’t seem to be destined for fame somehow. Aside from the fact that Nightmare Before Christmas has very little competition as far as stop motion feature films are concerned, it’s nevertheless an amazing film both artistically and technically, one that revels in visual beauty from the opening seconds onwards and a moment of real creative integrity for Hollywood, something that‘s way too uncommon in a world where cinema has been hijacked by business people.

Seeing this film for years on DVD brought about a familiarity that really gave birth to unprecedented appreciation when I watched the Blu-ray Disc - the transfer (finally framed at its correct ratio) brings the film to life in a manner I simply didn’t expect. Model work is truly granted justice as every crevice now seems to be visible, while the colour is so vivid a direct comparison to the DVDs previously released makes them look like going back to VHS (note that the screen grabs are from the DVD SE). Similarly there were sounds in the Dolby TrueHD track that I’m sure I’d never heard before, such is the clarity of the audio. The disc is rammed with extras with Burton’s old films Vincent and Frankenweenie being retained (though not looking as good as the feature obviously). A true gem of a film is blessed with a BD that should be owned by all film-lovers.

1971, France, Directed by Jean Rollin

Colour, Running Time: 88 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R1, Redemption; Video: Letterbox 1.60:1, Audio: DD Mono

Two young females with a propensity for thieving are forced to escape into the countryside by themselves after their male partner is shot during a high speed chase. Removing their clown make-up, and therefore rendering themselves unidentifiable, they rob a motorcycle before stopping off at a hotdog stall to steal some food (talk about kleptomania!). However their travels seem to be destined to take a turn for the mystical when they stumble across a desolate graveyard in the middle of nowhere. Catching up on some sleep (and nearly getting buried alive in the case of one of the girls) they head off on their meandering journey only to discover an isolated castle that initially seems deserted. Taking up camp inside one of the oddly inviting rooms they get down to a bit of lesbian skin-rubbing before it becomes apparent to them that they are not alone: the castle is inhabited by a number of vampires and their human minions, all ruled over by a dying vampire who needs new ‘blood’ in the family to keep the demon gene alive. The girls are soon infected and dragged into a world of amorality and debauchery.

Jean Rollin’s fourth feature length film continued a development of the themes that he would eventually become renowned for amongst the small pockets of cult fans around the world who remain devoted to his work to this day. Rollin’s approach here appears to be fairly relaxed as the film rolls on with little sense of urgency, stretching out a minimalist plot to create a dreamy fantasy world populated by unusual people whose behavioural patterns will barely be recognisable to the likes of us. Absorbed in the right way Requiem… can be an immersing experience, constructing around the viewer an enticing supernatural domain where sex and death collide without regard for the heavily religious construct that we generally find ourselves trapped within. Conventional film-making is no point of comparison when it comes to analysing the works of Jean Rollin, as many of his fans would surely attest, therefore there is little here that will attract followers of the mainstream. A film such as this is more like a forbidden treasure appreciated by just a few, whilst the rest of humanity remains blissfully oblivious to what’s really there. Not aiding any commercial appeal, Requiem… plays almost like a silent movie for much of its running time, telling its story by the actions of the two girls, rather than words. With the first half of the movie playing almost completely without dialogue, the script itself must surely have used up no more than a few pages. Breaking up the barren silence our attention is maintained partly by occasionally insane music punctuated by more melodic interludes, making this movie feel like an epic prog rock track reconstructed visually, and the soundtrack truly comes into its own during the show stopping dungeon orgy/rape sequence where several of the vampire’s human minions force themselves on a group of chained women, spiralling intensity towards near fever pitch. This was the scene that really caused a problem for the BBFC and even Rollin himself has claimed that it went on for too long (several screen minutes), but call me a perverted crazy man, I love it! It’s surreal, sexy, violent, un-PC, and completely mad. The more macabre elements of the movie are not spine-tingling in the slightest, but there is a skewed gothic edge which keeps one leg rooted in horror, an innate genre acknowledgement common to most of Rollin’s non-pornographic outings - it’s unlikely to satisfy those more accustomed to the conventional slasher or torture films that proliferate these days. One of Rollin’s other strengths is demonstrated here in abundance: great choice and photography of natural (i.e. non-set based) locations. The castle, cemetery, and surrounding countryside is quite a feast for the eyes. Finally the protagonists are typical for this director - two nubile young women with a tendency towards physically relating to one another, making their way through an alien world which they have no real inclination to question. Nobody made films like Jean Rollin and this one - shot in his prime - is one of the best examples of his work.

This old US Redemption/Image DVD has been superseded with better quality discs from Encore and more recently Redemption themselves. Its non-anamorphic transfer is a mess with interlacing issues, haze, moiré effects, and some digital problems that I’ve never even seen anywhere else. It is better than VHS but only marginally (which itself I was glad for at the time I bought it due to the old UK tape being heavily cut). I once spoke to Marc Morris who was one of the people involved in this transfer, and he told me the problems were dependent on what equipment it was viewed on, but I’ve looked at this using several DVD machines, different VDUs, and a PC, and none of them produced a satisfactory result. Thank heavens they eventually reissued it (although now I’m waiting for something in hi-def). Sound is appreciably provided in original French language with good subtitles, and no other way should it be viewed.

2006, US, Directed by John Lasseter

Animation, Running Time: 116 minutes

Review Source: Blu-ray, RB, Disney; Video: 1080p 24fps 2.39:1, Audio: DD TrueHD

When I originally caught a preview trailer of Cars on one of Pixar’s earlier DVDs (long prior to the film’s production completion) I thought it was a bit of a dunce idea to be honest. There was little there that looked appealing beyond the attractively designed graphics, so it was not on the priority viewing list. Alongside favourable reviews, some unbelievably competitive pricing by Amazon on the region B Blu-ray Disc, however, forced me to reach for the credit card. The story arcs in a similar fashion to most of the Rocky movies actually: Lightning McQueen (a nicely cast Owen Wilson) is a ‘dashing’ race car who’s pretty sure of himself and the film opens with him taking part in an exciting race where he ends up effectively crossing the finish line at exactly the same moment in time as a couple of his competitors, resulting in an indisputable tie. A rematch is scheduled for a week later but on a routine cross country trip the sleeping McQueen rolls out of his trailer, ending up in the middle of the desert. Realising his predicament he speeds on to catch up with the trailer but attracts the attention of a small-town police car, this resulting in a chase that wrecks half of the town and McQueen’s consequential court appearance. The locals decide that the race car should repair damage to the road as his sentence before he’s permitted to leave, so with time against him (his showdown race takes place in mere days) McQueen sets about putting right his accidental wrongs as quickly as possible (after escape attempts prove useless of course).

What happened to animated feature running times? They used to be so short, partly because of the vast work involved and partly because target audience (children) attention spans are notoriously limited. Over time I suppose companies such as Pixar have realised the appeal of their work spreads to adults as well as their offspring, plus their famed storytelling abilities could probably carry films beyond a conventional 80 or 90 minutes. That’s the case with Cars: an endearing story fills out a near two hour running time seemingly without effort, and there is little in there that’s worth ditching. Of course it’s about super confident McQueen being brought down a peg or two along the way, in addition to him learning that ‘winning’ isn’t the only thing that matters (something that no doubt conflicts with his ‘genetic’ foundations, being a race car and all that). There are a few other morals built in there, typical of Pixar movies certainly, and you can take or leave that side of things when there is so much else in there to revel in: animated anthropomorphism is absolutely world class, and no opportunity here for cheating motion capture either; dialogue is consistently smart and often amusing; pacing is maintained with periodic bouts of frantic activity - the races themselves are surprisingly rousing for example. Oh, of course there’s a bit of a love story built in for good measure, although a reasonable standard of taste is upheld - we don’t actually get to see the cars snogging at any point… Despite my initial reservations Cars surprised me by proving to be a first rate movie experience. One final point that must be expressed: the visuals are absolutely stunning throughout, and this presents a perfect opportunity for Blu-ray to show off what it can really do (given an appropriately sophisticated system of course). Colours are vivid beyond anything you could have hoped for in home cinema, while detail is unquestionably extensive. Standing a couple of feet away from a 70+ inch screen you realise that this transfer could be blown up to the size of a wall and still look sumptuous - this has to be one of the most gorgeous films ever crafted (animated or not), and with Blu-ray you damn well know it! Supporting the pictures is a thundering soundtrack courtesy of Dolby’s lossless audio codec, the likes of car revs vibrating your very skeletal structure. Extras seem to be pretty comprehensive (including a couple of shorts, serving Pixar tradition), though I’ve not had time to trawl through these at time of reviewing. With A/V quality this thrilling the price is already justified.

1991, US, Directed by Geoff Burrowes

Colour, Running Time: 88 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, Buena Vista; Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: DD Surround

Cocky college boy Charlie Farrow seems to know no bounds when it comes to good luck, but he’s blissfully unaware that fate is about to redress the balance somewhat. While helping out one of his side-job bosses he’s offered the overnight task of dropping off someone’s flashy Porsche to Atlantic City, yet another seemingly fortunate occurrence in Charlie’s life as he takes his $200 and speeds down the sunlit highway in style. Then the Porsche conks out (aha, that’s why I opted for a Fiesta instead) and Charlie is forced to have it dropped off at a local garage while he checks out his new and unfamiliar vicinity. Directed to an underground casino by a feisty taxi driver, Charlie doesn’t see any problems in store because he’s already proven himself a dab hand at poker with fellow less fortunate students. So he starts winning quite a stash of cash for himself while flirting with table host Karen Landers, generally having a good time, but one of his opponents is not so happy that some arrogant kid is beating him at his own game and becomes increasingly aggressive throughout the course of the session. In an ensuing struggle the man hits his head and kills himself, everyone standing around in shock (not least Charlie). What’s worse is the dead man is actually the son of the mob boss who owns the casino, and the sudden acknowledgement of negative attention forces Charlie to make a quick escape. With half of the mob after him the lad realises that he can’t even turn to the police, as it seems corruption has infected the force too and even the cops are keen to bring Charlie in to the mob man who has offered $50K for the kid alive.

I tend to enjoy ‘real bad day’ movies like After Hours, Final Jeopardy and this film - it sort of puts my own measly problems into acceptable perspective while providing general bad luck scenarios that I seem to be able to identify with. After the initial set-up the majority of the remainder of an admittedly fairly thin plot features Charlie (Patrick Dempsey) desperately scrambling to escape the numerous immoral individuals who are out for his blood, despite the fact that he voluntarily did nothing to directly cause the mobster’s son’s death. The targeted chap turns to a number of apparently law-abiding individuals during the chase, some of whom turn out to be untrustworthy themselves or who are simply too scared to help him out, despite his dire circumstances. One of the people he accidentally encounters is Landers (Kelly Preston), the girl who dealt his cards at the poker table. On the surface she appears to be like everyone else in the town; criminal or frightened. At some point Charlie’s charms win her over and she tries to assist him in his plight. The nightmare that grows around him is quite thrilling and the gripping nature of the story is largely attributable to Dempsey’s performance - he portrays sheer confused panic incredibly convincingly, proficiently going from smiley faced student to a man on the brink of desperation. His reactions to the endless bad guys closing in on him are absolutely frantic, and he has ample opportunity to demonstrate incredible agility in the process - the guy is magnificently athletic as he falls and charges about each location in anxious bid to preserve his own life. The second factor that supports the success of the film is its sharp editing and acutely delineated pace. Probably as an extension of this, the conclusion does seem partly rushed, not wrapping up the plot in a manner which would be considered best by most viewers. I don’t think Run is a supremely popular movie but it is something that slipped under the radar, I suspect missing an appropriate target audience in the process. It’s a small piece of work in some respects and fairly undemanding, but it remains consistently exciting and worth the hour and a half investment.

I’ve seen Run a couple of times on TV and it’s nice to enjoy how well it’s been presented on DVD, at least visually. Sonically it could have been upgraded with a 5.1 track (only stereo surround here), though with the added bang of a good amplifier it can sound alright. Alas there is nothing else that can be commented on with this skeleton disc, however we should be grateful that a small movie like this is even legitimately available in a widescreen format with such a nice image.

2005, US, Directed by George A Romero

Colour, Running Time: 93 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, Universal; Video: Anamorphic 2.35:1, Audio: DD 5.1

In the aftermath of an apocalyptic worldwide rising of the dead, groups of human survivors have taken to walling themselves into cities where they’re protected from the ravenous nature of hungry corpses whilst approximating some semblance of a normal life. One such city, dubbed Fiddler’s Green, is considered a desirable residential location but controlled by despotic leader Kaufman - with significant reward to himself he’s manufactured a place where privileged life continues in a materialistic fashion similar to how one might have lived before the change. Having served Kaufman for some time, the rough and ready Cholo believes that his time has come to relinquish the life-threatening daily routine of retrieving supplies from outside the city’s perimeter, putting forward his argument for moving into his own place within the city. Kaufman is not so obliging and basically rejects Cholo’s request for a better life, thus bent on mass destruction Cholo steals a heavily armed truck labelled Dead Reckoning with the intention of blowing Kaufman out of his pristine tower of protection if a sum of several million dollars is not paid up. Kaufman hires good boy Riley to retrieve the truck and put Cholo out of the picture - not especially concerned about Kaufman’s welfare Riley agrees on condition that he can take his friends with a vehicle plus some weapons, and get out of the place for good, heading north where there is less to cause his stress levels to fluctuate. Making use of his friends and a small team of soldiers Riley heads out to reacquire Dead Reckoning thereby eliminating the threat of a missile attack on the more innocent inhabitants of the city. Meanwhile it seems that one of the rotting dead is beginning to think in a constructive fashion, proceeding to lead an army of corpses to attempt infiltration of Fiddler’s Green.

Romero’s fourth film in his long running ‘Dead’ series caused great anticipation for me - the previous entry, Day of the Dead, had been completed twenty years earlier and whilst initially a source of disappointment for many (not helped by the fact that Romero’s ambitions were famously scaled down by lack of financial backing) the film itself eventually became hugely appreciated by some, including myself (though there are still detractors to this day). Day… is one of my favourites of the genre (along with Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead of course) for many reasons that can happily be saved for another review on a rainy day. Suffice to say I could barely wait when Land of the Dead was green-lit. The film really has everything going for it: amazingly slick special effects (and extremely gory they are in places), sharp cinematography, a budget that exceeds that of all preceding films in the series combined (i.e. $15 million as opposed to around $5.1 million), some decent actors to choose from, a twenty year gestation period, etc. Admittedly one might lament the absence of Tom Savini (in a special effects capacity at least - he appears in a cheeky onscreen cameo), but I don’t think anybody can realistically complain about the quality of make-up and bloodshed on display here. There’s even a connection to Dawn…’s crew in the employment of Asia Argento’s thespian services (her dad, Dario, helped produce, finance and distribute the 1978 hit). However, there are issues that continue to bug me despite giving the film several viewings over four years. First but not really foremost, the score is utterly generic, with nothing to distinguish it from any other reasonable budget Hollywood movie out there. Okay, Night… was scored with stock music but it was generally memorable and appropriately selected stock music; Dawn… had the might of Goblin behind it to create a soundtrack like nothing before or since, and I even like the less distinctive but highly catchy music created for Day…, a score that perceptively alternates between careful optimism and melancholic hopelessness. Land…‘s composer team of Johnny Klimek and Reinhold Heil provide little outside of the mundane. The actors themselves do their job but Romero is unable to draw out anything special - John Leguizamo, so frightening under Brian De Palma’s control in Carlito’s Way, is simply functional here, whereas main man Simon Baker as Riley is a pretty boy with no sense of urgency. Even Dennis Hopper rarely rises above apathy as Kaufman. I always felt Romero worked very well with unknown actors from the sixties through to the eighties, eliciting gripping performances on occasions, but perhaps that innate talent has evaporated through age or lack of practice? The script is peppered with unappealing smart-alecky comments from various quarters and evident almost as a prerequisite is the staple social/political commentary that has earned Romero some acknowledgement from mainstream movie reviewers over the years, here summarising tired ideas on class divides and terrorism in a rather heavy handed manner. As a development from Bub (Day…) the creatures here are beginning to display signs of almost evolving in their ability to communicate and employ tools for various purposes. Nice idea (and very well executed in Day…) but the regular paroxysmal cries of Big Daddy in Land… start to get on the nerves a little bit. To be honest the characters littered throughout this film are not that far from plain boring, Riley‘s irritating disfigured winger included. On to more positive notes, as the army of dead crosses the river on their vengeful journey to the city there’s quite a nifty scene where they all emerge silently from the waters, although even this is a regurgitated idea from Zombie Creeping Flesh (itself a rip-off of Dawn of the Dead ironically) or even Carnival of Souls long before it. The climactic attack on Fiddler’s Green is one of the few events in the film to remotely drag the viewer out of their apathetic state, with plenty of gore and a little action, though it’s clear by this point Romero’s edge and cinematic aggression have all but gone and a once great name in the genre is now merely the producer of mediocre (albeit competent) material. Aside from some viewers out there really digging this film, I just can’t get into it and feel disappointed every time.

The theatrical version was available on DVD in the US along with an unrated cut featuring a bit more gore plus one or two extra scenes. This latter version made it to UK shores with the good old ‘Director’s Cut’ slogan across the cover - I find it strange that such a term is so frequently used these days as the directors that are being referred to rarely actually edit their films. Regardless, anyone wanting to see the film may as well go for the harder version. It’s also available on an improved Blu-ray Disc. My absence of pleasure watching Land of the Dead has resulted in the fact that I still haven’t seen its follow-up of sorts, Diary of the Dead. Romero is also putting the finishing touches on yet another sequel (previously known under the superior title of Island of the Dead, it’s now simply called …Of The Dead!?! Romero’s clearly losing it). As much as I adore the first three films in the series I definitely think it’s time for the man to hang up his oversized specs.

1973, Spain, Directed by Carlos Aured

Colour, Running Time: 84 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R1, Anchor Bay; Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: DD Mono

Following indirectly on from several earlier films Curse of the Devil continues the mythic saga of Waldemar Daninsky. In the middle ages one of Daninsky’s ancestors is cursed by a worshipper of Satan as the love-loving witch is burned at the stake, a curse that is intended to be carried down through the generations until the ‘present day’ where we catch up with the aristocratic Waldemar as he roams the woods shooting at stray wolves. At a local black mass orgy Satan himself makes an appearance, sending one of his females on a mission to infect Waldemar with the werewolf virus by having him bitten with the skull (!) of a wolf, after the woman has made love to him of course. Elsewhere there is a lunatic on the loose, randomly chopping up various people with an axe - as Waldemar gradually begins transforming into a werewolf the homicidal activities of man and beast segue into one another as townspeople speculate whether the perpetrator is human or not.

Whilst the continuity of the film is slightly uneven in places, events and people jumping around almost to suit the requirements of a chaotic narrative, compensation materialises in the form of a satisfactory supernatural ambience as well as a dose of directorial panache (Aured made a number of good films with Paul Naschy, including Horror Rises From The Tomb). As with the other Daninsky films that I’ve seen (not all of them are easy to locate) Curse of the Devil (or El Retorno de Walpurgis) happily sits within an odd universe all of its own creation, mixing up its own rules and forcing its dazed inhabitants to abide by them. The eventual manner in which the werewolf (played by Paul Naschy as always) is introduced is gradual and non-sensationalist - our first glimpse of him/it is from a distance as he slaughters two villagers, with no clear view of his features. As the mayhem snowballs Waldemar himself (in between love-making sessions with other women) is falling for a woman he saves in the woods, a prerequisite no doubt designed to add to the inherently tragic nature of the character. In fact she plays a greater role than mere love interest, actually becoming pregnant with the child that she ultimately retells the tale to in flashback and becoming instrumental in the werewolf’s fate, as he was in hers. She’s quite a tough soul too - despite being confronted with violent death in the family, discovering a man with his head squashed by a rock, etc., she seems remarkably unperturbed by her exposure to the terrors of the countryside. Despite her apparently unfeeling nature Waldemar becomes involved with her nonetheless, and thus his ultimate destiny is cemented. The werewolf himself is quite an uncanny creation, modelled by Naschy’s own admission on the Lawrence Talbot character of Universal’s The Wolf Man and its sequels. He won’t exactly put the frights up anyone nowadays but his inhuman ghastliness is an acknowledgeable factor that makes him compulsively viewable - these films are pleasingly addictive. The ominous rural locations are a suitable boost to the hostile world, enveloping the characters in a mysterious bubble from which there’s no real escape. Naschy achieved what he set out to do: update Universal’s formula with added sex and gore for a modern audience, and in the process he pretty much kick-started the Spanish horror movie industry that would bring us so many cool films along the way. Curse of the Devil is a surprisingly violent entry in the series considering when it was made, it features sizzling Euro women in various states of undress, Naschy’s doomed werewolf, an alien world, and a mob of angry villagers to boot - just about all the ingredients one needs for a good night in!

There are two US DVD releases of this that are worth considering and relatively easy to obtain: Anchor Bay’s disc features a detailed print with an almost sepia colour scheme that seems to aid the otherworldly story, but alas there is only an ugly English dub to listen to. Actually it’s not that bad compared to many I’ve heard but given a choice I’d take the Spanish dub every time. BCI Eclipse’s Spanish genre series (now sadly defunct) put out the same film with a slightly inferior transfer in all respects (in fact after the first batch hit the streets a number of technical corrections were made before a reissue) but with a choice between Spanish or English soundtracks, therefore it’s down to personal requirements which disc would be more suitable. Extras are slim in either case. If you know what to expect from Paul Naschy and in particular his peculiar Waldemar Daninsky werewolf series then Curse of the Devil won’t be a complete surprise, but it’s an appropriately morbid part of the franchise that should please fans.

1998, US, Directed by Darren Aronofsky

Black & White, Running Time: 80 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, Pathe; Video: Letterbox 1.66:1, Audio: DD Stereo

Living perpetually isolated from society as far as is possible, IT geek Max Cohen has become obsessed with the theoretical relationships between mathematics and physical existence, hypothesising that the former is a language designed to understand the latter and in such there are recognisable, calculable patterns that would permit one to effectively predict complex outcomes or uncover previously incomprehensible details. The implications are as follows: Max’s obsession turns him personally to the stock market in his attempts to analyse his theoretical patterns for the purposes of pre-empting numerical outcomes, though his motivations are strangely lacking in a desire for materialistic acquisition - it seems that his interests lie more so in scientific comprehension than the benefits that could follow the success of his experiments. Simultaneously, and because of Max’s renowned work with numbers, a couple of other organisations have become attracted to Max’s genius as a tool that can help them achieve their own goals - a group of Jewish God-worshippers believe that Max may hold the key to deciphering religious texts that could reveal the true name of God, while other people are aggressively interested in the possibility that Max should be instrumental in enhancing their own obscure business sensibilities. Max is also ill, suffering from extreme migraines periodically that momentarily shut down his consciousness, something that’s only partially controlled by drugs. His grip on what a normal person would have considered to be reality is only briefly prevented from slipping completely by an old professor friend of his, a man who wants to bring perspective to Max’s increasingly self-destructive urge to understand the mechanics of the universe.

This is an incredibly absorbing piece of film from the man that would develop a cult following with the likes of Requiem For A Dream and - possibly less so - The Fountain, projects that have occasionally split opinions thanks to deliberately ambiguous philosophical pretensions. Pi is really where it all began for Aronofsky, a clearly low-budget outing that refused to be restricted in scope by availability of resources. Sean Gullette is just amazing as Max Cohen, here given his break into the world of feature acting by Aronofsky after a couple of other very minor entries on his C.V. His recreation of obsession and pain is gripping, and almost painful to watch as Max dreadfully descends into one of the fits that hit him more and more throughout the story. Max’s virtually unbreakable focus is not helped by the drug-induced pain reduction that might be assisting a hallucinogenic perception of what’s happening around him - several times there are unexplained events that appear to hold some meaning in Max’s search for truth in numbers. The reasons for Max’s genesis as a philosophical mathematician may be hinted at in comments made about his childhood - his mother told him not to do something (stare into the sun) so he did anyway, the damage done to his eyes gradually being superseded by a sense of almost spiritual clarity. His curiosity concerning that which he should not attempt to dissect was piqued and allegedly rewarded. His apartment also drops a hint, I think, about what Max is overlooking in his obsessive search: crawling over the endless heaps of computer equipment and wiring are ants, some of which he occasionally kills. In this I believe there lies a contrast which has come to be ignored or explained away by amateur science: nature supposedly functions in a machine-like fashion, much of which we ape in our creations of machines that do some of our work for us (the computers proliferating throughout Max‘s apartment, for example), however, in our attempts to understand nature we (and Max) forget to acknowledge an element of the unknown that drives things through existence. Chaos? There’s something unpredictable in nature that will forever keep Max on a search with no end due to the inability of the human mind to conceive things outside of its meagre comprehension, and maybe by the film’s cryptic conclusion Max comes to realise this. While not quite as intensely realised as the director‘s later projects, the progressive impact on the viewer spirals almost out of control as the film matures, something that’s become a staple of Aronofsky’s work. Pi is a relentlessly amazing film with smart dialogue, alluring inhabitants, and a story of mind-bending significance that dares you to fully decipher it.

Shot largely using black & white reversal materials with a low budget, Pi understandably looks very rough. Contrasts are quite often extreme, grain is omnipresent, and detail is sometimes hard to make out - this is all part of the source though the old DVD transfer permitted macro blocking in places and did not take advantage of an increase in resolution that would have resulted from mastering anamorphically. The pretty cool industrial soundtrack is moderately well served with a stereo track and accompanying this are a couple of commentaries from the director and Gullette. The film is essential viewing and while the DVD could be improved nowadays it’s still the only way to watch it.

1963, UK, Directed by John Schlesinger

Black & White, Running Time: 98 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R1, Criterion; Video: Anamorphic 2.35:1, Audio: DD Mono

The original novel of Billy Liar, written by Keith Waterhouse, earned notable critical commendation on its release in 1959 prior to its adaptation as a stage play (co-written between the book’s author and Willis Hall). During its initial West End run it was Albert Finney who played the lead role Billy Fisher, bringing a wider audience to the production as Saturday Night And Sunday Morning became a big hit, but his departure opened up a slot in the play for Tom Courtenay, an actor who would attract some acclaim for his part in The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner before securing himself the part of Billy again for the movie adaptation of Billy Liar. The film’s narrative wasn’t too far removed from its literary counterpart: Fisher works in an administrative capacity at a funeral parlour dreaming of greater things, particularly becoming an author of either comedy scripts or novels, whilst allowing his love life to become an increasingly tangled mess. He also has a tendency to fabricate the truth to others as his imagination runs largely unrestrained in addition to the apparent ongoing requirement for such manipulation to cover up his proclivity towards laziness and almost accidental dishonesty, for example his failure to post a batch of calendars on behalf of his employers leading to the absorption of the postal money into his own pocket. The story effectively snapshots one day in his life as he awakens one morning before work (his parents having great difficulty actually getting him up and on his way), endures the short working day before handing in his notice to take up the script-writing job that hasn’t quite made it to reality, tries to sort out the periodic incidents with his multiple girlfriends, goes to a dancehall in the evening where a number of problems inconveniently collide, and makes a decision to head off to London with his favoured woman, Liz, at the end of the day after his gran dies.

There are a fantastic array of characters that either get in Billy’s way throughout, or become antagonised by his inconsistent ability to be honest: his mother and father for starters, the latter almost constantly shouting at the lad or doubting his ability to do anything, something which might have instigated Billy’s all thought and no action approach to life. At work we then meet his best mate, Arthur Crabtree (Rodney Bewes), who Billy ends up arguing with after telling a lie to Arthur’s mom, and beyond that there is Barbara, Rita, and Liz (Julie Christie), Billy’s three antithetical girlfriends. Barbara is an uptight virgin who won’t let Billy even touch her until they’re married, Rita is the promiscuous tart who’s relentlessly squawking and nagging him, primarily about the engagement ring that she doesn’t know is actually on Barbara’s finger, and finally Liz is the girl who likes to drift between towns, refusing to pin herself down to a place she cannot identify with. In most respects Liz is the girl most suited to Billy’s unpredictable strategy for dealing with life’s more mundane details, someone who similarly uses her imagination to free herself from the constraints of a humdrum existence. One crucial difference manifests itself as the separating factor between Billy and Liz however, and that’s the fact that Liz acts on her impulses while Billy doesn’t, and it’s that issue that will ultimately determine the outcome of their relationship - at least on the day focused on by the story. Billy’s daydreams are given life by cinema: reality is punctuated by episodes of mental wanderings as Billy imagines himself in a plethora of situations adopting roles preferable to that which he has to endure on a daily basis, from a surviving war veteran, to a reformed prisoner-cum-successful author, with the inhabitants of his ‘real’ life often making an appearance somewhere (spot Liz alongside him in one of his early fantasies before we’ve even met her, suggesting that she has a relevant part to play in his ideologies). These episodes don’t tend to be my favourite pieces in the film, however. What rises the film to a higher plane is the ongoing complexity of Billy’s relationships, these giving rise to beautiful moments of drama. The characters throughout appear to have their own agenda, merely getting caught up in Billy’s confused world where fact and fiction aren’t mutually exclusive concepts, and most of these characters are granted life by the astounding talents of a well selected cast. While this film would most likely be categorised as a ‘drama’ it’s not without its frequent moments of amusement as Billy progresses from one awkward situation to the next and even when his gran dies the film refuses to get bogged down too much in melancholy. Hence Billy Liar remains an uplifting experience every time, featuring people whose actions can be scrutinised, dialogue that is fascinating despite familiarity granted over repeat viewings, and a gorgeous Northern ‘kitchen-sink’ appeal throughout. Stripped of glamour, but not beauty, Billy Liar is one of the greatest triumphs of sixties British cinema, and almost certainly one of the greatest irrespective of era or geographical origin.

Stamping on the old pan & scan video cassettes and TV broadcasts that we had to put up with in the distant past, Criterion’s DVD presented the film accurately representing its CinemaScope ratio (the 4:3 transfers were simply awful). It’s a decent looking image that could be improved slightly I suspect, but is satisfying nonetheless. An informative commentary from the director, Courtenay and Christie accompanies a 15 minute TV featurette that focused on Billy Liar and another of Schlesinger’s earlier films, A Kind of Loving. Hardly in-depth but the package is rounded out by excellent liner notes by Bruce Goldstein, the founder of the company (Rialto) that rescued Billy Liar to provide a theatrical re-release 35 years after it was made. The British DVD lost the majority of the bonuses but obviously came in a lot cheaper. This disc/film remains one of the most valued entities of my movie shelves.

1974, US, Directed by Walter Stocker

Colour, Running Time: 71 minutes

Review Source: VHS, PAL, VideoForm; Video: 1.33:1, Audio: Mono

Wet rag Paul has dreams of driving along at night and spotting a woman in white near the roadside. Parking up to catch up with her he’s led to a tomb where he finds what may have been the woman lying in an open coffin, at which point the rotting corpse awakens to grab him. Back in reality Paul is getting married to a similarly soppy woman and the two of them set off in his car for a horny honeymoon, the comprising activities of which would make conventional sex addicts everywhere transform to dark matter in an instant. After hours of driving the dazed man almost hits a truck, swaying off the road in a horrific crash. While he sustains minimal injuries his new wife is killed instantly. Weeks or months of rehabilitation pass before Paul manages to build the strength of mind not only to leave the hospital but to visit his wife’s burial place. Arriving at the lonely cemetery he’s told by the caretaker that they close up in 36 minutes so he should be out of the crypt by then, at which point the grief-stricken man heads down into the deathly room to mourn. Upon believing that he can hear a woman - his wife? - crying he collapses and knocks himself unconscious. The caretakers arrive some time later and, thinking he’s left the place to desertion, they lock up the crypt for the night before heading off home. When Paul awakens it’s a stormy night and he realises he’s stuck down there, but perhaps not alone! Certain that he can hear his wife moaning from behind the stone block between them, he grabs a pick axe and smashes it open where his wife appears to be alive…

A highly obscure, super low-budget American film shot in the early seventies, this is something built out of modest film-making skills and ambitions that don’t step too far outside of the available finances. Because of the crew’s lack of experience there is a certain naivety about the production whereby conventions are inadvertently lost in the attempt to construct their own little chiller, for example the odd manner in which the opening credits suddenly appear around 10 minutes into the film (against the soundtrack of a depressing country tune). The many scenes that take place early on in Paul’s car are merely filmed against a black background with fog drifting across the shot - the film itself probably cost more to process than paying for what’s actually captured by the camera. Mundane thespian abilities aside, once Paul gets himself locked in the strange little crypt he spends the rest of the film there - an unusual plot device, but one which builds a noticeable degree of creepiness as the storm outside kicks in and you realise that the main man really isn’t going anywhere for the duration of the night. An obvious ambiguity lies in the arrival of his ‘dead’ wife - is she a ghost, a reanimated corpse, or something inside his crazy brain? He did after all knock himself unconscious and has also been through a life-altering trauma, both of which could explain hallucination or unhinged thinking. Explanations are sensibly kept to a minimum, providing the story with a level of mystery that keep it riding along in the manner of a Twilight Zone episode. Despite the clear limitations of the resources available at the time, Stocker managed to create a moody piece that, had he persevered, almost could have dragged him out of the first-time director pit (he never directed another film).

So obscure is this that I’m certain it’s never even received a legitimate DVD release anywhere. The review was taken from a pre-certificate videotape released in Britain some time around the early eighties and, image-wise, is a mass of speckles and scratches throughout, this somehow adding to its curiosity value. If this ever makes it to High Definition I’ll eat my hat, and my missus’ bra too (actually that last bit sounds quite appealing…).