The Grim Cellar

1967, West Germany, Directed by Harold Reinl

Colour, Running Time: 80 minutes

Review Source: Download; Image: Letterbox 1.66:1, Audio: Mono

Beginning the tale a century or so ago, we along with a group of angry villagers witness the sentencing and quartering of an evil count found guilty of brutal crimes against humanity. Jumping forward a few years an eminent scholar called Roger is on his way to an ancient castle to learn more about his family history. Stopping off at a village within the vicinity he discovers a certain degree of hostility whenever the castle is mentioned but pushes on with his trip regardless. On his long coach ride to the mysterious destination he rescues a nubile young female and her servant from travelling marauders and together they all continue their journey through the forest. Passing through morbidly decorated woodland their coach driver is brought to his own demise, bringing about an awareness of ubiquitous death in the air. Arriving at the castle nonetheless it soon becomes apparent that the corpse-like keeper of the place is working towards the resurrection of the count who was horrifically executed so long ago, and the guests at the castle are just the materials he needs to conclude his experiments with immortality.

Masquerading in parts (including YouTube) under the rather misleading title of The Torture Chamber of Dr Sadism (boasting even more misleading poster art!) this Euro chiller from the sixties is much more appealing under its Castle of the Walking Dead moniker, however the German title (Die Schlangengrube und Das Pendel) more so reflects the opening credit knod towards Edgar Allan Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum, probable influence being derived from the moderate success of Roger Corman’s Poe cycle of the period. The story itself was of course already adapted effectively by Corman at the beginning of the same decade with Barbara Steele and Vincent Price in lead roles, and a respectable job it was in terms of cinema at least. Here the Germans brought their own interpretation of proceedings and whilst there are elements that couldn’t be considered entirely original even back then, certain sequences have been realised imaginatively to produce unique imagery: the prime example of this is the prolonged coach ride through the woods, with corpses hanging from the trees amidst an artistically lit environment - quite exquisite in a ghoulish sort of way. Christopher Lee appears on screen for fairly short periods, playing Count Regula (errr, okay), the man who is executed and later brought back to life in an attempt to grasp at immortality. His presence is striking as usual, made more impressive by deathly make-up and an omnipresent expression of sombreness. The characters spend most of the last half of the story occupying the castle of Roger’s (Lex Barker) destination, and a glorious gothic delight it is; full of traps, dark passages, walls made of skulls, and inhospitable rooms, it’s the sort of place I’d love to explore. Also standing in the movie’s favour is an aesthetically pleasant approach to cinematography generally (marred by occasionally clumsy editing), giving birth to some striking landscape shots as well as accentuating the claustrophobic interiors. Finally we have the Kraut contribution to the Euro babe: Karin Dor! Wow, I wish she had been a bit more widely used in these kinds of gothic chillers: a voluptuous, elegant, and effortlessly beautiful scream queen that grants bonus points to the film’s visual appeal. The film is a little let down by its old fashioned English dubbing (though Lee definitely provides his own voice), and a slowly paced final act (in fact, the whole outing is quite leisurely), however there is plenty to recommend it to the fan of European macabre cinema.

This is one of those films that has never been treated particularly respectfully on home video, with transfers ranging from fullscreen to widescreen with generally lacklustre picture quality and often footage missing. Presumably it’s a so-called ‘public domain’ title as I watched it in its entirety on YouTube and whilst I’m not in favour of free downloading of movies it does give the serious collector the opportunity to specimen titles which might ordinarily be avoided. In my case I’d been looking forward to watching this film ever since reading about it in the monolithic Aurum Horror Encyclopaedia so many years ago, and it didn’t let me down. I’d certainly like to buy a restored version of the movie should it ever appear, though it does seem unlikely given its present status. At least the presentation online was 1.66:1, with picture quality approximating something between VHS and DVD, with audio clear enough. If you’re interested in a DVD it’s available stateside from low-end labels such as KEF Films and Thrill Kill, whilst Image Entertainment (now in administration unfortunately) once put out their own disc. I’m personally waiting - probably in vain - for a worthwhile restoration.

The great Spanish horror movie icon Paul Naschy unfortunately passed away just a few days ago from that dreaded illness, cancer. This brief article isn’t even closely going to be a complete biographical history of the man who’s real name was Jacinto Molina (there are books and websites out there far better equipped, knowledge-wise, to do so), rather my own tiny tribute to someone who has provided more than his fair share of viewing pleasure to myself and many other genre fans over the last forty years or so.

Born in Madrid in 1934 the versatile actor, director, producer and writer successfully traversed from designing to weight lifting before managing to manifest his childhood love of movies with his own celluloid interpretation of Lon Chaney’s doomed Larry Talbot/Wolfman character, launching a series of films that would span several decades. Famously most inspired by Universal’s lovely clash of titans Frankenstein Meets The Wolfman these movies depicted the somewhat discontinuous exploits and sufferings of Waldemar Daninsky, a man eternally cursed with monthly transformations into a lamented werewolf. Highlights of this series have included El Retorno del Hombre-Lobo (Night of the Werewolf), Dr. Jekyll y el Hombre Lobo (Dr Jekyll versus The Werewolf) and the first entry in the series La Marca del Hombre Lobo (The Mark of the Wolfman, or more crudely known as Frankenstein’s Bloody Terror). Quality might have varied from film to film but there was something fascinating about this character, as Naschy injected his own spin on lycanthropic lore. These projects almost seem to be a deliberate mix of the old-fashioned B&W classics that inspired them, and a rebellious dash of blood and gore given birth by Spain’s religious and political constraints.

One of the pinnacles of his career was undoubtedly the bloody and sexy El Espanto Surge de la Tumba (Horror Rises From The Tomb) though it remains quite sad that much of his output has remained absent in home video. Some DVD companies have executed stellar jobs remastering and releasing his material to scare-hungry fans, notably BCI Eclipse/Deimos, Anchor Bay, Media Blasters/Shriek Show and Mondo Macabro, plus Euro-specialists Mya Communication are soon to be gracing us with Hunchback of the Morgue. However, one title I’d really like to see is the mid-seventies apocalypse chiller The People Who Own The Dark, one of those elusive and mysterious titles that I‘ve only read about hitherto.

Evident from his DVD introductions and many interviews, Naschy remained enthusiastic about his cinematic fright-fests right up to his dying day, and this enthusiasm is one of the qualities that I find most endearing about him - a man who dearly loved his art despite it continuing to be a fairly underground phenomenon. Let’s face it, flicks like Curse of the Devil are never going to appeal to today’s mainstream audiences, but that’s not something that I’m concerned with. Whilst not always a participant in polished products (er, Vengeance of the Zombies?), he nevertheless left behind him a legacy of terror in the best possible way. And whilst we may have uncovered many of his gems in digital glory already, there are still more to be exhumed no doubt. I’m sure his cult popularity will continue indefinitely and, thanks to the companies out there who do his work respect, for years may we enjoy the entertainment that he always fought so hard to deliver.

2004, US, Directed by Paul Weitz

Colour, Running Time: 109 minutes

Review Source: Film 4 Broadcast; Image: 1.78:1, Audio: Dolby Surround

Upcoming marketing hotshot Carter lands himself an executive position with a globally advancing company, placing him in commanding roles over a department of people mostly with years of experience more than him, as well as being near enough twice his age in many cases. Carter settles into his new boasting in an energetic, motivational manner that pleases his immediate boss, earns him a fat salary, but little respect from his subordinates as a subsequent regime of early retirement takes place to relieve the company of a burden costing hundreds of thousands a year. Not all is rosy in Carter’s life, however, as his wife of a paltry seven months deserts him, his new Porsche is crashed within seconds of driving it from the forecourt, and he suddenly realises that he’s rather lonely in his penthouse apartment. But at least he has his booming career… 51 year old Dan is one of the men shuffled into the backseat as Carter takes the reins, and it materialises that Dan also has a very attractive daughter that the rebounding Carter finds himself wining/dining pretty quickly, unbeknownst to the father. As company politics snowball and Dan discovers the slippery slope towards the old-age landfill before him, it’s only a matter of time before all issues collide to produce some sort of dramatic mutant offspring.

There are quite a few threads going on in the film that makes it hard to quantify in terms of genre (should that even be considered a necessity) - it appears to be heading the direction of comedy, when it opts for the romantic turn, before diverting for drama. In that sense it’s ambitious though I’m not fully convinced it knows exactly what it’s doing all of the time. There are also a couple of central characters so the individual perspective is blurred a little - Carter is an arrogant youngster who’s not easy to like, probably a deliberate effort as attempts are later revealed to induce sympathy within us for the person that probably represents someone most of us despise in real life. Then there is Dan who is teetering on the edge of the scrap heap that inevitably awaits all of us in a world designed essentially by and for the young. It’s clearly easy to empathise with the latter’s plight, even more so when it becomes apparent that his relationship with his daughter is deteriorating due to her relationship with the whippersnapper that holds the father’s career, and possibly life-value, in the palm of his sweaty hand. Scarlett Johannsen, playing the daughter, is less utilised here than she might have been had the film been made a year or more later, 2004 being around the breakthrough point for her more than anything preceding that. She appealingly plays her character as someone just shy of maturity in the earlier scenes, progressing to more of a grown woman during the course of the story. This causes her dad much strife as she transforms from the innocent child of his moulding, into an adult that formulates decisions on who to mate with, etc., before deciding to mate with the biggest asshole of Dan’s nightmares at that point in time.

Wrapped around the lives of these people is a fairly clichéd view of how major business works, from a pretty typical notion of corporate monsters (obvious, but debatably accurate) to the apparent power of the individual underling to overthrow some despotic manager if they’re willing to stand up to the big boys (this relates to a particularly pathetic scene in the film). From my experience people aren‘t usually this brave/foolish, though quaint it is. Carter does go through his own personality development during the movie that strangely sees him traversing from over-the-top twat to all round reasonable dude with some sense. Maybe this is possible, but again in my experience assholes generally remain assholes. Despite a nagging feeling that In Good Company is masquerading to be something more than it really is, there is a likeable story partly disguising the old recycled ideas and it’s certainly something that I didn’t have a bad time watching.

2009, US, Directed by Shane Acker

Animation, Running Time: 79 minutes

Review Source: Cinema screening; Image: 1.85:1 Digital

Shane Acker first attracted the desirable attention that would break him into a small portion of Hollywood’s limelight with the ten minute film ‘9’ four years ago, the third in a line of animated shorts that would finally find him a nomination at the Oscars. Expanded to feature-length 9 adopts the rough plot outline of its ancestral parent, utilises a very similar visual style, and brings an essentially arty CGI animation (that reminded me in places of work by the Quays and Svankmajer) to a wider audience. Set in a world that vaguely resembles our own, albeit with some deliberate historical juggling, mankind has been devastated by the evolution of machines initially designed to aid us in war, the machines themselves eventually turning on their creators - Matrix-style - to leave the planet a ruined, desolate place devoid of humanity, so it seems. Before you suspect further inspiration from Wall-E, you’ll be pleased/disappointed to hear that in our place, aside from the destructive machines, are tiny automatons that were created from bits of cloth and metal by a human scientist; creatures that are by comparison placid and harmless. However, the curiosity of one such creature, referred to like his siblings only by a number (‘9’ of course), reawakens a monolithic construction that threatens the existence of the entire community of tiny rubble dwellers, but therein may lie the answers that 9 seeks.

Leading a small team of animators in the mid-noughties Acker managed to create a visually imaginative short film that thrived on mystery and menace as much as its perceived ambient qualities, and to some extent those attributes have been effectively conveyed in this feature adaptation. Some sacrifices have had to be made in good will towards commercialisation: some of these necessary to keep the film afloat financially rather than having it flop in some art house swamp while other sacrifices are more debatable. The most obvious alteration initially is one that changes the non-verbal nature of the characters of the short, to the more generally present speech in the feature. This can’t help but dispel some of the mystery, as background details are explained to the viewer and character motivations made more obvious, but for a film doing the rounds at mainstream cinemas this is probably a necessary development (though Wall-E admirably proved that successful long periods of silence in film-making could still be achieved). Much like in the short the numerical little things that wander around in the conceptual dark are threatened by huge mechanical monsters as 9 himself tries to make some sense of the world and where they all came from. The primary action sequence of the short is exploited somewhat here to throw several such set pieces at the viewer, thereby maintaining interest in an audience that is all too easily bored nowadays. These are well executed scenes that inadvertently walk a tightrope when it comes to balancing the integrity of the original vision, especially as far as the presence of kung-fu fighting female number 7 is concerned (voiced by lovely Jennifer Connelly), a slightly contrived addition to the mythos that’s undoubtedly there to enhance appeal to certain youthful portions of any potential audience. Speaking of which, it is surprising to find that an animated feature nowadays has done so little to sell itself to children - the film is almost completely devoid of humour and the offbeat concept combined with dark imagery is not necessarily going to facilitate popularity with the young beasts that will one day be running our councils. It’s to be appreciated that the imposing stylistic imagery of the short is closely adhered to in the feature, from the doll-like protagonists (looking almost identical) to the apocalyptic backdrop that serves as the setting, and compositions are notable in the thoughtfulness behind them. Rather than taking on a similarly quirky score (and partly abandoning the relentless industrial sound design of the original) it’s slightly unfortunate that the producers opted for a fairly generic orchestral outing, again eroding away slightly at the strangeness given birth by the source. The marginally clichéd conclusion is certainly preceded by plenty of unusual ideas, picturesque feasts for the eyes, a pace that’s not completely compliant with the norm, and the manifestation of technical talent in the telling of a story that has its fair share of fast moments and those that are just a tiny bit touching.

While not quite all it could have been (that would have resulted in a non-cinematic voyage for the outing almost surely) it has to be said that the film does keep one’s attention fixated, the animation itself is throughout very attractive, both in design and motion, and it’s highly commendable that a project like this can be whisked from the underground into mainstream by Hollywood’s midfield players. There’s plenty to enjoy and saviour here, though the masterpiece that the short film (and possibly trailer) perhaps hinted at is regrettably absent.

1977, Spain, Directed by Carlos Puerto

Colour, Running Time: 82 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R1, Mondo Macabro; Video: Anamorphic 1.78:1, Audio: DD Stereo

It was comparatively late in the game that I discovered the macabre cinematic beauty that can sometimes emanate from the slightly offbeat world of Spanish horror. Until a few years ago I generally considered the Italians to be the gruesome kings of genre in its European variety but several brushes with some of Paul Naschy’s better known films along with things like the truly nightmarish The Vampire’s Night Orgy, the oddly enticing A Bell From Hell, etc., have illustrated that the Spaniards once gleefully produced their own (now unfortunately dead forever) peculiar brand of sexy ghastliness, a brand that happily coexists and complements the output of their Italian neighbours. DVD has brought some of these delights to us in a quality that enhances their appeal as far as I’m concerned - for example, back in the grim old days of bootlegged video tapes I had a copy of Horror Rises From The Tomb, a film that I considered at the time to be worthless excrement. Picking up the BCI Eclipse special some time ago however, diametrically shifted my opinion. A few years before that I stumbled across the wonderfully titled Satan’s Blood (AKA Escalofrío) for the first time, thanks to those amazing people at Mondo Macabro, and it has since become one of my perverse favourites. Considering the originality of the plot one has to remember that this was made in the seventies and it’s not really a bad stab at the Satanism/occult arenas that were repeatedly pummelled by screenwriters throughout those classic decades. Bruno and Berta, a young and relatively happy couple, are out driving one day when the passengers of another vehicle beckon them to pull over. One of them claims to have been to school with Bruno and despite him not actually remembering the man they’re persuaded to accompany the strangers to their country mansion for an evening of drinks. After an hour or so of driving they arrive at the remote house and settle down for apparently harmless chat, however certain clues indicate that their hosts lead unorthodox lifestyles, while there is an omnipresent sense of palpable unease. Later that night there are disturbances in the house - Berta is indecently attacked by an intruder, then Bruno and Berta stumble across the other couple engaging in sexual activity downstairs. Seemingly entranced they join in for a transcendental orgy (is there any other kind?). But it’s not all good - as the weirdness snowballs the couple find themselves unable to leave the premises as the dog they brought with them initially goes missing, their car won’t start, and they’re stranded in the middle of nowhere with two people who appear to be worshippers of the devil.

Typically manic for a Spanish production Satan’s Blood zips along at a fair pace, taking time to build an aura of the supernatural often without resorting to overt manifestations of the unseen world. The couple who befriend the protagonists are suitably mysterious throughout and there are thematic resemblances to Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby in some respects: the strange, beguiling neighbourly people who pretend to be working in your best interests but are actually aiming to seduce you over to demonic forces largely unseen. I’m impressed with Puerto’s conveyance of the sinister couple and their macabre intentions, contrasted with the innocent proclivities of the ’good’ couple. Whilst there is a little of the titular blood on display here and there (in the sense that it’s consumed of course) the film’s references to sex are more pronounced, this being epitomised by the show-stopping orgy sequence that our couple discover downstairs in the middle of the night and hypnotically become involved in. Psychedelic and adequately deranged it is both titillating and haunting in equal measure. The film also reaches a satisfyingly creepy finale following the couple’s desperate attempts to release themselves from the captivity of the sinister duo and their imposing mansion. It’s one of those movies I feel I can watch repeatedly and never really grow tired of, hence Satan’s Blood remains one of the more interesting and satisfying examples of the Spanish contributions to the genre.

Those wonderful people at Mondo Macabro again grant us an otherwise very obscure Euro gem on DVD, presented attractively in an anamorphic widescreen ratio with an essential Spanish language soundtrack and English subtitles (along with optional English audio). This is the perfect way to bring a film like this to fans and it’s a shame that the likes of Mya Communication can’t do the same with the mountain of great films they keep releasing without original language/English subtitle combinations. Whilst we are also bestowed with a documentary and some previews of other MM releases (always fun), this the icing on a brilliant disc and there’s no other version to own.

2008, US, Directed by Ryuhei Kitamura

Colour, Running Time: 103 minutes

Review Source: Blu-ray, RB, Lionsgate; Video: 1080p 24fps 2.39:1, Audio: DTS HD

It goes without saying that Clive Barker made a bit of a splash on the horror scene back in the eighties, initially with his rather visionary Books of Blood (famously endorsed at the time by Stephen King) and then with the directorial debut that was Hellraiser (discounting the insane arthouse shorts Salome and The Forbidden). Then after the comparatively small dents in humanity that Nightbreed and Lord of Illusions made it seemed that his presence in the genre film world diminished somewhat, other than the continued association he’s had with the Hellraiser brand through its many sequels. Actually he has acted as producer on a few low-end projects but otherwise the arrival of The Midnight Meat Train became quite noteworthy due to a number of favourable reviews attracted by it (though I acknowledge some are less kind). Based on one of the stories in Books of Blood the tale concerns Leon, a talented photographer who has his shots of the seedier side of city life declined by some snobby know-it-all woman in the business. However, during the course of the rejection one of her comments entices him to look deeper into the decadent city that forms the basis of the majority of his material in order to find something altogether more alerting. The otherwise stable Leon decides to head off into the night armed with a camera and his innate eye for an interesting shot, seeking something that will force people to take note. Stumbling across a mugging in the tube station he manages to make the assailants leave their victim alone, after he has grabbed some ‘artistic’ images of the crime in progression, but later finds that the woman being attacked has turned up dead, or more specifically, brutally slaughtered. Initially suspecting the muggers he takes his photos to the police where he’s treated more like the criminal himself for simply taking these shots of the woman, who turns out to be a semi-famous model. Effectively fobbed off he discovers that there’s a foreboding man who tends to hang around the tube trains and who looks likely to be the real perpetrator, so Leon decides to follow him. Eventually Leon realises that what he’s getting involved in is far more horrific than he might at first have imagined, and thus his descent from the stability of his everyday existence has begun.

First of all I found myself really getting into this after just around ten minutes - I think Leon is played nicely by Bradley Cooper, coming across as likeable and someone who we can identify with reasonably successfully. The fact that he’s a photographer attempting to make it in a difficult world induces some sympathy and once he begins his nocturnal adventures we’re pretty much with him. It’s also a bonus that the world outside his apartment is realistically grim, or grimly realistic - a city weighed down by its own human slime. The film boasts a strong visual style courtesy of director Kitamura (genre fans may know of him from slick zombie-action flick Versus a few years back) and cinematographer Jonathan Sela (The Omen remake, for want of a more desirable genre example), most shots demonstrating efficient skills in the framing department. I also think the locations are well selected/designed - these largely revolve around Leon’s apartment, the café where his girlfriend works, the police offices, a cold looking tube station, and of course the train itself. Interspersing all this is some very contemporary extreme violence, something that most modern genre films can’t seem to do without. It is, however, very well executed and polished - almost enjoyable to watch perversely - though one scene in particular I had to turn away from (hey, I‘m getting on a bit, okay?). We get the ‘extreme’ version in the UK, and extreme it is! Famously taking on the tragic lead antagonist is football nutter Vinnie Jones, a factor which doesn’t necessarily attract me: having a celebrity face pulls you out of the fantasy as far as I’m concerned, although Vinnie’s virtually silent intensity is quite appropriate and he adopts some nice characteristics (e.g. the manner in which he almost primly holds on to his veterinarian bag) to flesh out the psychotic but focused man. He’s an imposing figure but I do think that the film-makers take this a step too far as the film reaches its final act, turning him into an almost Terminator-type unstoppable machine. This is one of the movie’s few real flaws though it fortunately doesn’t tarnish overall enjoyment a great deal. Without wishing to give any details away, the story does progress into mythological areas by the time of its conclusion (i.e. it’s not simply about a killer on a train) and this development is welcome, even if some may find elements of it hard to digest. It’s almost like a collision between eighties sensibilities and the aggressive cinematic tactics of something made more recently, and I think the ideas are constructed somewhat higher than what could have merely been categorised as ‘slasher’ otherwise. At a time when it’s difficult to please fans whose emotions are made of stone it seems that Midnight Meat Train gets things right, enough so to make its one centimetre or so of space on my shelf quite valid.

Sliding the Blu-ray Disc into my player with some trepidation thanks to reading a small number of complaints on the internet about the graininess of the HD image I was pleasantly pulled into appreciating the film on a higher level. I understand that the film was shot on Super 35 and this factor tends to bring with it an inherent level of grain that has simply been captured by the two million or so pixels of the Blu-ray picture. Basically the people complaining about this do not comprehend what ‘film’ is. It’s easy to perceive a higher level of detail here than on any Standard Definition release and it grants the world delineated by the story a sharp realism. The grain makes this world look and feel dirty. It’s a pity people are so uneducated when it comes to the technologies that are used to create film and transfer them to the screens in our homes (to this day I go into people’s living rooms to find that they’ve set their DVD/widescreen TV up incorrectly and the proportions of the image are completely wrong - to the apparent ignorance of the household inhabitants!). All of this makes the job of Blu-ray more difficult than it should be, but - to those who understand - Midnight Meat Train is presented very well by Lionsgate here and I wouldn’t watch it any other way. Stellar audio also supports this in DTS HD Master Audio format, with 7.1 channels of immersive sound. Aside from a commentary and various featurette, one extra in particular fascinated me: a 15 minute look at Clive Barker and what he gets up to. Initially I was a bit surprised at how fu*ked up Clive’s voice is - his accent is even weirder than it was back in the eighties and there’s a strange croaky resonance about it. After some comments on the story on which the film is based Clive takes us on a tour of his studio, a place where he has been relentlessly painting for the last ten years or so. I found his artwork quite incredible to look at, and his attitude inspirational. The sheer quantity of paintings and the vastness of bottomless imagination on display is quite awesome and it seems that he has found the perfect way to express the contents of his unusual brain. Overall this Blu-ray Disc is a satisfying package of a film that is a suitably good time.

1933, US, Directed by Frank R. Strayer

Black & White, Running Time: 63 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R1, Alpha Video; Video: 1.30:1, Audio: DD Mono

Taking place in a bat-infested village on the European continent somewhere, in a period probably around the early part of the twentieth century, the residents are in the grip of terror as a series of uncanny attacks results in murder through massive blood loss on multiple occasions. Arguments proliferate between the authorities - on one side the suggestion that a genuine vampire being the perpetrator is substantiated by the evidence, while those with more of a scientific orientation than superstitious scramble for a more plausible explanation. The village idiot - bat-loving Herman - seems to attract unwanted attention when many of the villagers decide that it’s him to blame, and end up chasing him through the countryside with burning torches. Even putting Herman out of action, however, does not bring the attacks on inhabitants of the village to a halt.

Clearly latching on to the success snowballing during the first ever real horror-boom, The Vampire Bat feeds off the thrills audiences derived from the likes of Dracula, having its characters obsess over the blood-draining antics of the antagonist as if they had just seen Tod Browning’s famous movie themselves. The film also represents a clash between science and superstition as the authorities endlessly argue amongst themselves what kind of killer they’re dealing with. In that respect it seems ahead of its time although the dialogues and scenarios are inevitably antiquated by the period in which they’re firmly embedded. Where the film rises above its meagre resources is in the atmosphere forcibly concocted by the direction, cinematography, and sets (famously borrowed from other, bigger films, notably Whale’s Frankenstein and The Old Dark House). Without spending too much money the film-makers manage to scrape together a look and feel for this Majestic Pictures indie not dissimilar to Universal’s early thirties movies. This is aided by the presence of several well-knowns from the period: Fay Wray looks thoroughly lush as Ruth and herself would be synonymous with several other genre movies around the same year (King Kong, Mystery of the Wax Museum, Most Dangerous Game), Lionel Atwill (Mystery… again, as well as a number of the Universal films later on), and Dwight Frye, fresh from Dracula and Frankenstein, here as the ill-fated Herman (village idiots really seemed to get a raw deal in the old days!). Some comedy relief is provided by an old woman who seems destined to be scared out of her wits by anything that moves - an old fashioned touch that doesn’t work as well nowadays, however there is one amusing scene where she is fooled into thinking Herman has transformed into a dog. The Vampire Bat is short and moderately sweet, it injects a touch of originality for the era with its scientific angle while not losing sight of the ambience that’s all so essential to these thirties chillers.

Floating around US DVD under the public domain, the best one would appear to be from Alpha Video. Undoubtedly a ‘cheapo’ release the image is nevertheless reasonable though in need of a restoration of higher proportions. The early shots look terrible and I wasn’t looking forward to viewing the rest as a projected image, but relax because it does settle down to something altogether more stable and defined. Sound-wise it’s also okay, though far from stellar. Extras are unsurprisingly pretty much nonexistent (limited to promotion of the company’s other golden oldies), though I think the colourful cover artwork is actually rather nice for a budget title (having said that I do feel it presents a potential spoiler, a factor indicating that the designers weren‘t too thoughtful in that sense). All in all this is a good buy for fans of B&W chillers.

2000, UK/US, Directed by E Elias Merhige

Colour, Running Time: 89 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, Metrodome; Video: Anamorphic 1.78:1, Audio: DD 5.1

Somewhere in Europe in the early 1920s, Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau is attempting to direct a film sneakily based on Bram Stoker’s Dracula novel with names, film title, etc., switched around in the hope of avoiding the legal attentions of Stoker’s obstinate estate. Faced with mounting concerns from the production’s financiers, Murnau relentlessly pursues his unusual vision of the ancient vampire’s story of love and everlasting death. The film’s titular portrayer however is not revealed to the rest of the crew until later on, when he apparently refuses to appear to them in any sense except as his onscreen character, along with full ‘make-up‘. It becomes apparent that Murnau has made some sort of pact with the mysterious Max Scheck that keeps the strange man participating in something that may be at odds with his personal interests. But then Schreck begins making his own demands on the production, and before long people are being hurt by forces they’re unable to describe.

Steven Katz’s story takes the novel approach of using a true life event (i.e. the filming of the silent classic Nosferatu) and injecting it with something (probably…) fictitious, in this case the suggestion that the person playing the monster was in reality a vampire himself, this essentially capitalising on the fact that there’s not a great deal known about the real-life Max Schreck. Bringing an unprecedented style to Schreck is Willem Dafoe, in what justifiably proved to be an Oscar-nominated performance - by all accounts uncanny, repulsive, and downright odd, he’s almost unrecognisable due to both extensive make-up and characteristic portrayal of the strange being. In fact he heads up an adept cast all round: John Malkovich is typically manic and emotive as the director, Eddie Izzard is a frightened Gustav (playing Hutter from Nosferatu - essentially the Jonathon Harker semi-hero renamed), the lovely appearance of Udo Kier as the perpetually oblivious producer, his natural accent fitting in well with the forced dialects of the rest of the cast, and finally Catherine McCormack as Hutter and Orlok’s stuck-up love-interest. The overall cinematographic approach is one of murkiness and gloom; quite suitable given this rather dark excursion, while punctuating the story are genuine snippets of Nosteratu alongside close recreations of shots with the actors of this film as ‘Murnau‘ shoots his masterwork - the genuine clips prove to be a reminder of the potency ingeniously injected into the 1922 chiller by the contextual suppositions made by Katz. Indeed, after watching this I think the natural urge is to seek out the real Murnau film on one of its many DVD incarnations.

But not only is there a bit of terror and drama in Shadow…, we’re also treated to sly portions of black humour that induce the occasional smile. I guess a film such as this was always going to have difficulty finding a target audience among the masses due to a refusal to fixate itself on any particular genre conventions - even the vampire elements are masked by ambiguity as Schreck’s bloodsucking tendencies may possibly be those of a madman or something altogether unprecedented. Instead this is a thoroughly original treatment that seems to have paid the price that steers many producers into safer territory nowadays (hence the apparent stagnation of the film industry that we appear to be suffering nowadays).

1969, UK, Directed by Peter Sasdy

Colour, Running Time: 95 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R1, Warner; Video: Anamorphic 1.78:1, Audio: DD Mono

A travelling tradesman finds himself in the wrong horse-drawn carriage when he attempts to sell a couple of headcases an artefact that the men decide to take for nothing instead. Abandoned in the surrounding forest the tradesman follows a woeful screeching noise through the undergrowth to a dying Count Dracula, just in time to witness the notorious vampire turn to dust. Clearly acknowledging a potential profit the astute man collects up whatever’s left of the supernatural disintegration and heads about his way. Some time later a circle of aristocratic men are attending their covert weekly meeting of sex and debauchery when their enjoyment is interrupted by young Lord Courtley, whose freedom from employment has similarly led him to a life of hedonistic exploits, however, whereas the three aristocrats have reached the summit of their imagination the younger man has taken his experiments in life one step further to investigate the possible benefits of occult practices. Piquing their curiosity with his arrogant claims to know the way beyond mortal limitations they’re persuaded to part with large sums of money for Dracula’s cape, ring and dried blood, the tradesman who originally found them quite happy with the exchange. Locating an abandoned church the group of men congregate to perform a ritual intended to regenerate the remains of the evil count. Refusing to drink (or even taste…) the blood of Dracula the three elderly men lose patience and beat Courtley to death after the enthusiastic lord himself has downed a goblet full of the reinvigorated blood. Fleeing the church what they don’t realise is that the ceremony was actually successful and the ancient count now wants revenge for the death of his servant.

Almost a sequel proper to the colourful Dracula Has Risen From The Grave, this movie largely maintains the feel and quality of its predecessor. In fact I think this run of sixties Dracula movies was the best for Hammer, and highly imaginative entries they were despite possibly being a tad irreverent when it came to transferring Bram Stoker’s careful creation to screen. Then again even Hammer’s initial adaptation of the story was hardly 100% faithful, so what followed shouldn’t have been too surprising. Ralph Bates (here playing Courtley; the actor’s first movie appearance) was at one point intended to have a much greater role in the film due to Christopher Lee’s initial refusal to appear, in addition to the fact that the producers wanted a fresh face to reinvigorate the franchise, but when Lee was enticed into the production (something pursued because Lee’s presence was one of the conditions imposed by co-financers Warner-Seven Arts) Bates’s role was substantially reduced to what we now see. While I’ve heard complaints about Bates as an actor I have to say I love his performance in Taste The Blood…; it’s so emphatically melodramatic and obsessively focused it’s impossible not to be hooked just watching him - shame he doesn‘t get much screen time. Of course the aristocrats are similarly taken by his aggressive pursuit of divine insight, this leading to them parting with large enough sums of money to kill for once unsatisfied with the results. One of these men (Hargood, played by Geoffrey Keen) is an interestingly hypocritical character: religiously judging and oppressing his daughter (Linda Hayden) for displaying her affections for weedy Paul he spends his Sunday evenings indulging in adulterous activities with the local prostitutes, before of course engaging in a black mass with the more black and white Courtley, despite a penchant for church-going by day. The lives of the other two men in the circle are less revealed though Hargood’s prominence is relevant mainly because his daighter does become a significant feature of the story as the prim but assertive girl who attracts the fangs of the vampire (to become an altogether more alluring proposition). Christopher Lee barely has anything to say and pretty much does the same thing he had on the preceding entries in the series. Why he continuously refused to play the count, only to be persuaded again and again is beyond me - even after his reluctant involvement with Taste The Blood… he went on to play the count another three times for Hammer. His presence is fairly imposing, however, and he does induce a certain level of anticipation, this being embellished by a suitably long stretch building up to his eventual reincarnation (a tactic that worked so well in 1965’s Dracula - Prince of Darkness).

Aside from some corny use of lightning during the blood drinking ceremony, the count’s silly rising from death (including his proclamation of vengeance), and a climactic finale that is rather odd and inexplicable, we’re treated elsewhere to a consistently gothic-tinged atmosphere, with great sets/locations (utilising some filming at Highgate Cemetery, once a place reputedly haunted by its own vampire), a sexy turn by Linda Hayden, the manic Ralph Bates, and an overall stylish approach to shooting that makes this one of Hammer’s better movies at a time for the studio where the violence (highlight: the brutally evil and nightmarish staking of one of the aristocrats), sex, and terror were quite well balanced. Continuing to strike while iron was still relatively warm, Scars of Dracula was to follow but a year later.

1980, US, Directed by William Lustig

Colour, Running Time: 88 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R1, Anchor Bay; Video: Anamorphic 1.82:1, Audio: DTS ES

Frank Zito is a seriously disturbed individual with a penchant for misogynistic violence thanks to mistreatment during childhood at the hands of his mother. New York’s seedier side conceals a man who roams the streets at night looking for women to sexually brutalise, before leaving them scalped and dead - their hair he keeps nailed to mannequins in his morbid and dingy apartment while people of the city become increasingly frightened (following media exposure) of the perverse killer hiding amongst the already flawed inhabitants. Managing to demonstrate an ounce of normality he begins dating a fashion photographer but this only leads to more mutilation and death.

A simplistic storyline is embellished with a deeper analysis of abnormal psychology, taking initiative from the Italian giallo movies that flourished throughout the seventies by adopting a psychodynamic concept that is not so much iterated as implied in the distressing life of Zito. Joe Spinnell portrays an incredibly fu*ked up creature who oozes unhinged pain and hatred, however he probably doesn’t know what to do with his character as Zito temporarily manages to pull off a Mr Nice Guy act to date the corny photographer (Caroline Munro, transferring herself reasonably well from the Hammer period and her brief exposure to fame as a Bond girl), but even this seemingly contradictory turn comes across as slightly creepy. There’s something fascinatingly gripping about Zito and his homicidal exploits and I suppose it’s understandable that the BBFC had such a big problem with the film back in the eighties (it was repeatedly rejected a certificate and then heavily cut when Anchor Bay UK finally got it through in 2002). It wasn’t just the female-hating concept that perturbed the censorship body back then; the film is grindingly bloody with some horrific gore effects from maestro Tom Savini, who also bagged himself a bit part in the film to personally exhibit the centre piece of the whole thing - a show stopping head explosion that would have woken Sleeping Beauty up to take notice. While dialogue is often revealed to be slightly odd (thought whether that is due to thespian execution I’m not quite sure) there are several suspenseful sequences that combine good directorial and editing capabilities - the strongest of these (assisted by a favourable performance from the actress playing the victim) involves a panic stricken nurse being pursued through the underground by the eponymous killer. Is it possible to sympathise with such an unnerving monster? Lustig makes a case, without preaching, for the fact that he was never in control of what he was to become (as is arguably the case with any of us), and Zito’s fate was sealed by the treatment perpetrated by his mother that ultimately scarred his mind beyond repair. Maniac was a controversial horror film that hit very hard, confronted its audience with the disturbing concept of a despicable man who was created by the actions of a person well out of the picture, and perhaps most distressing of all, it was constructed in a fashion that keeps your eyes and ears glued throughout its duration. Admittedly a film that probably a large portion of the population would prejudgingly hate, Maniac is a highlight from a now classic period.

I understand Maniac was shot on 16mm, in which case the soft, indistinct image is forgivable. What is really surprising is the fact that the soundtrack absolutely kicks your ass out of the room - while dialogue and effects are largely centre rooted, the music (courtesy of DD or DTS 6.1) hits you from all directions and sounds stunning. During each sequence of violence, bloodshed, or madness, this truly injects an additional slab of potency that’s very much appreciated. An uncut print (on the Anchor Bay US disc) plus a ton of extras complete the definitive edition of this powerful and thrilling film. Incidentally, Lustig went on to direct another three films with the word ‘maniac’ in the title, but more respectfully founded the DVD production/distribution wonder that is Blue Underground.

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.