The Grim Cellar

2005, US, Directed by Steven Spielberg

Colour, Running Time: 112 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Paramount, Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: DTS

The first cinematic adaptation of H.G.Wells’ story is obviously considered to be a minor pinnacle of science fiction but being produced in the fifties it was no doubt time a huge budget remake was on the cards, and who better to take that on than Steven Spielberg… Like the first movie this one brings the action forth to contemporary settings; whereas the novel was set in London after the turn of the twentieth century Spielberg’s film primarily takes place between New York and Boston in the present day. Crane operator Ray Ferrier (Tom Cruise) is hardly the ideal family man: he’s separated from his wife, who now looks after their two children - Robbie and Rachel - with her new lover, he sees his kids at the weekends and generally likes simply looking after himself. A series of inexplicable electrical storms across the country initially arouse excitement in the residents of Ray’s town, until virtually all machinery is rendered useless and congregations begin accumulating in the streets during a period of mass confusion. The pavement beneath the crowds begins cracking open and up rise fearful looking tripods that tower above the buildings - people are running for dear life but most are annihilated under the intense firepower of the machines. Ray manages to grab one of the only cars left working and get his kids out of town but, in what appears to be an organised attack on humanity, the massacre is happening just about everywhere and as the alien machines exterminate everything around them it seems they’re using human waste to turn the landscape into something that might be approximating the nature of their own world.

There is a surprisingly brief set up of the principal characters before the action kicks off and, though this may appear to meander at first glance, it is necessary at the very least for contrast against what’s about to happen. The alien attacks are brilliantly illustrated, both from a CGI/technical perspective and cinematically, and it creates some terrifying moments of visual and aural assault - these machines both look and sound menacing. While shaky camerawork is a staple of modern cinema it is controlled and used sparingly here, i.e. when its implementation will have a useful effect. It must be remembered, however, that this is Spielberg behind the cameras and of course we have a couple of children that Ray has to drag along with him on his journey (to get rid of them ironically) - what is it with Spielberg and children? Admittedly they’re not as irritating as those in Jurassic Park, et al., but cynically thinking it does seem like a lazy tool to engage audience sympathy at times. One side effect of this though is an erring towards sentimentality by the film’s conclusion: whilst not exactly overt it can’t seem to help revealing itself when someone who should have died (and almost couldn’t possibly have survived given the circumstances) reappears to almost create a much happier ending than should otherwise have been the case. Aside from the overly long basement interlude with Tim Robbins and some scouting aliens, this is my only real problem with Spielberg’s otherwise pretty powerful latter day foray into science fiction. The story is generally approached with a seriousness that eluded something like Independence Day, a maturity that feeds a surprisingly grim tone throughout. Certainly the aliens themselves are not the only threat to mankind; mankind itself, with its contemporary perception of self-importance and individuality, becomes a threat to frightening degrees. Perhaps the film’s scariest sequence comes not from an alien attack but when Ray and his kids end up slowing amidst a crowd of homeless (in the wake of the war) wanderers only to find himself in the middle of a lynch mob, everyone of whom wants his car and their own selfish means of escaping. This is a pretty accurate reflection of what people are like nowadays I believe. Witness the fuel crisis several years ago: had people gone about their business as usual we wouldn’t have noticed any problem caused by the fuel strikes - the fact that people were jamming their own tanks full with wanton disregard for anybody else caused much more of a fuel shortage than the catalysing strike. This is like holding up a mirror to the audience and therefore works on a couple of levels. The presence of major stars in movies is something that bothers me slightly - it pulls the viewer out of the action and reminds them somewhat unnecessarily that ‘it‘s only a movie‘. Tom Cruise is not always a popularity icon these days given some of his activities outside of cinema, but I do feel he usually manages to pull off his roles quite effectively and this isn’t really an exception. He is a hero here to some extent, but not a superhero, and he possesses a number of character flaws that keep him from being perfect, hence his presence is bearable. Aside from the desire of some to dislike this movie for reasons that aren’t especially justifiable, it has to be recognised that this is a pretty efficient machine cinematically speaking, and the job of creating an immersing, action-packed, sometimes frightening ride through science fiction territory is done with enviable skill.

What can be expected from Paramount other than a supreme transfer with wall-shaking sound? The image is not as colourful or bright as you might anticipate but Spielberg went for a darker look indicative of what the title might suggest. I saw this theatrically in 2005 and if memory serves well this DVD is an accurate representation of the film’s original projection. The DTS track has overwhelming impact and your neighbours will know that too if you’re not careful. Rounding out the package are a number of featurette supplied on a second disc. A 100% faithful adaptation of Wells’ novel still evades us (Ray Harryhausen was involved in preparation for such a project a few years prior to George Pal’s 1953 movie) but, dare I say this, War of the Worlds isn’t far off contending for recognition as one of the best sci-fi movies.

1980, Italy/Spain, Directed by Bruno Mattei

Colour, Running Time: 96 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Vipco, Video: Letterbox 1.85:1, Audio: Dolby Digital Mono

Saving the world’s population in the wake of food shortage must have been something of a political topic back at the beginning of the eighties (I can‘t remember - was too busy playing with Action Man and, er, Cindy…). Not only was it the primary cause of all the mayhem in Alligator but similarly in Zombie Creeping Flesh scientists were trying to rid the world of starvation, instead creating a plague of bloodshed as corpses everywhere began waking and devouring the living following an accident at a scientific plant. Little time is wasted setting up the premise before we’re whisked off to a hold-up outside a building where some crazy ‘terrorists’ have taken siege with hostages captive, high demands, etc. The building is surrounded by police and a S.W.A.T team while music by Goblin pounds through the speakers (hang on, am I watching Dawn of the Dead here?) - following plenty of shooting, a small body-count, and an prophecy uttered by a dying terrorist that his killers will be ‘devoured by his brothers’ or something divinely perceptive like that, we cut to a jungle island where the same S.W.A.T team are now on a mission that even their incredibly intellectual minds can’t comprehend. They meet up with a couple of reporters whose holiday has gone drastically wrong when their friend’s child turns cannibalistic, and gradually team up in a fight they realise is with the walking dead, all making their way towards the very same plant where the world’s demise began not so long ago.

There’s no denying that Dawn of the Dead’s success was ‘responsible’ for a whole batch of imitations, mainly from Italy, and that Zombie Creeping Flesh is one of those shameless imitations, but actually using the exact same music that Romero used is taking homage a bit far I‘m sure. The result though is something oddly enticing - the music actually grants this film a suspenseful edge, a tangible air of impending doom with the apocalypse closing in around the characters. Those characters are stereotypes through and through, copying the actions of people from other movies to the point of near parody; this really adds to the enjoyment and keeps the viewer smiling sporadically between bouts of the mindless gore that originally got this film banned on video in Britain. While there are some classic lines and phrases throughout - “friggin’ ball breakers” (S.W.A.T team member threatening some zombies), “operation Sweet Death“, “they could be drunk or drugged… or maybe it’s a leper colony” (on first encounter with the undead), the list goes on - it’s mingled with elements that resemble something nastier just beneath the surface: the deterioration of the jungle tribe against their understanding, the shooting of the infected child (again, something pretty much airlifted from Dawn…), plus one character’s descent into madness as the world around him falls apart is effectively realised at one point as he struggles to keep control of his behaviour. Because most of the action takes place on an island of some kind there’s plenty of opportunity to splice in stock footage of jungle life to persuade the viewer that these people really are in the jungle, and Mattei takes this opportunity of course. If it wasn’t for some insanely over the top acting, amusingly derivative characters, and blatant ripping off of Romero’s film it’s possible to consider that on a technical level this movie isn’t actually the worst you‘ve ever seen, but of course those factors obscure anything that may be competent here with their overwhelming presence. As a bloody violent adventure through a world plagued by the walking dead this one is amusing, exciting, and gruesome in equal measures and therefore its aforementioned shortcomings can not only be easily overlooked, they actually work in the film’s favour to some extent. I’m sure, however, that opinions such as these would get me failed on any respectable Film Studies A’ Level course.

Known under a phenomenal plethora of titles over the years this was released on DVD in America as Night of the Zombies by Cydonia, in addition to Anchor Bay under its Hell of the Living Dead title (later put out again by Blue Underground). The latter is a superior version compared to the Vipco spinner that we got in the UK, being anamorphically enhanced and containing a nine minute interview, but the Vipco disc isn’t actually that bad relatively speaking. It’s widescreen (though not enhanced), completely uncut and, despite appearing a tad washed out and lacking in contrast, it’s in reasonable shape visually. Be warned: sometimes even genre fans hate this one but having seen this something like ten times myself, I consider it a guaranteed good time and, whilst it’s not really saying anything special, Mattei’s film is for me one of the more enjoyable of its kind produced in the wake of Romero’s 1978 success.

1980, US, Directed by Lewis Teague

Colour, Running Time: 87 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Anchor Bay, Video: Anamorphic 1.78:1, Audio: DTS

The potentially lethal ferocity of the alligator is displayed to us in the opening scenes when a public show turns to disaster as one of the participants is gorged by the creature in front of a horrified crowd (sort of akin to that scene from Faces of Death but more realistic…). A little girl there is bought a baby version of the reptile as a ‘pet’ - what they were intending to do with it once it grew up is unclear but her father is a touch narked about it and flushes the poor thing down the toilet. A couple of decades later severed limbs start turning up in the local water system and cynical cop (is there any other kind?) David Madison discovers that there’s an unfeasibly large alligator roaming around the subterranean tunnels. At first nobody believes him, including the little girl who’s now grown up into rather hot herpetologist Marisa Kendall. That is, until an irritating reporter takes bravery to new limits by heading down into the sewers - alone - armed with nothing more than a camera to catch the scoop of a lifetime. That’s exactly what happens too, as he’s quickly devoured by the creature while his camera accidentally catches several shots of it. This is all the proof Marsden needs as the recovered body and camera results in front page photos that awaken Chicago to a state of initially passive fear. As the authorities attempt to wipe the monster out with a strategy designed to corner it they inadvertently force it to break out on to the streets and a once passive fear becomes very active as the human-hungry alligator, mutated by the waste from experiments at a nearby institution, proves to be more difficult to track and kill than imagined.

Taking the Roger Corman approach to cinema the film-makers here have mixed Starsky & Hutch with Jaws - so obviously outlined by the music when the oversized alligator approaches some of its victims. Cop Madison is hard-bitten, down on his luck, ridiculed by his workmates after he tries to convince the world of the threat from below, and pushed to the sidelines by a strapping game-hunter when everybody finally does believe him, then kicked off the force altogether - there may be no end to this man’s bad luck, but alas he’s set to bag the girl and become a hero by the film’s end. Of course there’s not a great deal to be considered original about Alligator but execution is of a surprisingly high standard: special effects (varying techniques according to shot requirements) hold up nowadays for the most part and they’re strengthened by efficient cutting so that belief in what’s happening is facilitated as much as it can be. Sometimes labelled as a horror-comedy it is, almost to the contrary, played pretty straight for much of the time, adopting a semi-serious tone with intermittent humour that avoids any jarring effect. Having been cut on its original UK theatrical run to obtain a lower certificate this uncut restoration reveals a pretty gory movie, though not particularly shocking in today’s climate (it only has a 15 certificate), although it’s surprising to see them refrain from holding back when it comes to a young child being chomped to death (off screen in this case). There’s an injection of ecological awareness here too - scientific experimentation and illegal disposal of waste are the very factors that bring about the mutation of the reptile to the point of excessive growth. The scientists are apparently attempting to solve the world’s food problem by increasing the size of live stock but as usual they cause more harm than good when many of the city’s inhabitants become food themselves. The best way to approach such material as this is to knock the old brain into stand-by and sit back devoid of expectation - you’ll have a reasonably good time.

While once released in the UK on DVD by Digital Entertainment, that was a monster of a disc for the wrong reasons - extra-free with an ugly fullframe transfer, unrestored and thoroughly boring. Anchor Bay corrected that in spades - the newer disc is anamorphically enhanced widescreen (not 1.85:1 as some sources suggest - definitely 1.78:1) with various surround options that aren’t entirely successful but at least they’re there to choose from. Plus a commentary and an entire movie (Alligator 2) on a second disc . A recent Region 1 DVD had the commentary, some trailers, and a seventeen minute interview section but didn’t include the sequel. The Anchor Bay transfer of Alligator is stellar; incredibly vivid colours and balanced contrast with visual information you’ve probably never been aware of in this film, while digital grain is minimal - highly commendable. For an old-fashioned monster bash that pulls many of the right strings you can’t go too far wrong with Alligator, and this is a near superlative presentation.

1981, France/Germany, Directed by Andrzej Zulawski

Colour, Running Time: 123 minutes

DVD, Region 1, Anchor Bay, Video: Anamorphic 1.66:1, Audio: Mono

Genre amalgamations go back a long way, whether it be the obvious mixing of science fiction and horror abundant during the fifties, or gangster/vampire combinations such as From Dusk Till Dawn, etc. From what could easily have been the uninspiring and unproductive event of marital break-up in the life of Zulawski was borne Possession (not the one with Gwyneth Paltrow in it!) - something that might be described as an odd collision between social drama and gory horror. Sam Neill and Isabelle Adjani play Mark and Anna, a couple in the midst of a marital crisis where permanent split seems like the only viable outcome. Aside from having a young child to consider, Mark appears to be unable to live without Anna but has difficulty communicating what he’s feeling without descending into maniacal, emotionally charged babbling, often turning to manifested aggression in frustration. His psychological state spirals downward while Anna seems ambivalent about what she truly wants, often portraying a need to terminate the relationship between them whilst possibly still exhibiting some feelings that are positive towards her husband, amidst the obvious torrent of confusion. Mark finds out that she’s having an affair with someone and this does the situation no favours. Finding out who it is he goes to see the man, presumably without intention to discuss the problem diplomatically - the strangely androgynous Heinrich beats Mark up during the ensuing conflict. Arranging to have his wife followed it’s revealed that Anna is frequently retreating to a derelict area of the city (Berlin) where in a run-down apartment she’s mating with some sort of hideous multi-limbed monster.

So, rather than being a story of demonic infiltration à la The Exorcist, this movie investigates the results of the ‘possession’ of one human being by another, something that generally occurs in intimate relationships and is suggested here to ultimately have a destructive effect on its closest participants. The film distributors, particularly in America, didn’t really know how to market this project and in all fairness that’s quite understandable, especially in an era when films of a fantastically disturbing nature were good box office business - not only is the trailer a superficially ambiguous advertisement for what could easily be just another monster movie in its audience’s eyes, but the film itself had forty minutes or so removed by a studio who didn’t understand the content. Similarly here in the UK it was placed on the banned list by the BBFC and effectively condemned as a ‘video nasty’ (something that ironically probably helped gather a small cult reputation for the film). The film has since been restored in the US and permitted an uncut release in the UK under thankfully revised opinion. Controversies aside, what remains now though is something that’s difficult to understand with its apparent symbolism and personal meaning to the director. It’s clearly a response to the despair produced by the disintegration of his own relationship with his spouse but there is much here to decipher, and that’s where many viewers will drop off (to sleep in some cases). However, there are rewards to be had should you be able to mentally focus on what’s going on - the intricacy of Mark and Anna’s relationship is disturbingly realised and the physical product of their interpersonal deterioration is quite fascinating; that is, the terrifyingly passionate hatred between them seems to create the very monster that Anna ends up mating with (thereby producing more offspring). The creature itself is not seen too much but what’s visible is hideous, a bedridden octopus-like monstrosity that conceals something distortedly human in its nature. Anna’s occasional dismissal of her real husband hints at the possibility that she (i.e. the female) sees him purely as the machine that will impregnate her when required. The fact that she’d rather mate with something so horrific (than her husband) in order to produce more offspring possibly offers support to this idea. While Neill does a good job Adjani is simply astounding as Anna. The extremity of emotions she displays is worryingly realistic (indeed she won a couple of awards for this role), most notably in the train tunnel sequence where she goes into prolonged violent spasms before a disgusting miscarriage - this scene must be one of the most disturbing ever committed to celluloid, surely something very few actresses could have achieved, and it pretty much elicited outrage in some people. Its impact is profound and underlines the state of Zulawski at that time. As far as the film as a whole is concerned it can be a painful experience rather than specifically an enjoyable one, but the latter was hardly the director’s intention, plus it is too long. However films don’t come a great deal more challenging than this and its imagery and overall impact is quite unique.

Released a couple of times in the US by Anchor Bay Possession was restored to its full running time and Zulawski’s original vision, plus it was presented correctly at 1.66:1, anamorphically enhanced in a pillar-box fashion and generally pretty good looking. The DVD also came with director commentary and interesting text notes on his work. The second disc release was identical apart from the fact that it was coupled with Mario Bava’s final film Shock as a double-bill. Whilst Possession was passed uncut for home viewing in 1999 by the BBFC here in the UK, that was for VHS and I don’t believe there has been a DVD release on these shores. Wherever you look it’s quite a difficult film to get a hold of these days.

1977, Canada, Directed by David Cronenberg

Colour, Running Time: 86 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Metrodome, Video: Anamorphic 1.78:1, Audio: Mono

Straight on from the success of his first real commercial outing Cronenberg wrote a downbeat story about a couple who are involved in a motorcycle accident during a recreational trip. Spotted by the patients of a secluded specialist hospital the alarm is raised and they’re quickly picked up by the ambulance. Suffering merely damaged bones and minor injuries Hart (Frank Moore - a sort of Christopher Walken lookalike) is taken for conventional treatment but his more seriously injured girlfriend is rushed into the hospital for emergency surgery that includes groundbreaking skin grafting techniques. Waking up the dazed Rose can’t seem to stop herself attacking one of the hospital’s staff, after which she leaves the hospital prematurely and seemingly uncontrollably attacks a number of others while making her way back home. While her actions seem to be the product of a confused mind what she doesn’t realise is that she’s spreading a rabies-like disease via a prehensile, vampiric tube that protrudes from her armpit, possibly a by-product of the near experimental surgical procedures that were adopted during her operation. Before long her victims are spreading the disease through their own homicidal and quite insane behaviour and chaos throughout the region brings about martial law.

While Cronenberg was still a few years away from perfecting (as far as something can be perfected) his approach to film-making he had certainly broken away from the near incoherent arthouse pretensions of his earlier work (see Crimes of the Future and Stereo) to a point where he could construct a commercially viable outing that not only would a relatively large number of people be able to engage with but would also produce a profit whilst remaining commendably faithful to the director’s ongoing artistic ethic. Characters are fleshed out beyond their almost alien equivalents of his early work, becoming much closer to real people and consequently engaging the viewer’s attention a little easier. Rose in particular is an interesting oddity. The accident and subsequent operation leaves her in a sometimes confused state, her attitude swinging between apparently malicious and childlike bewilderment. What’s going on in her brain it’s difficult to determine, hence she becomes an enigma. Marilyn Chambers, someone known for her porn outings, makes a good job of conveying this enigmatic quality to the audience but a mainstream career was unfortunately not to be. While the porn trappings undoubtedly made the small number of nude scenes easier for her to deal with, what is more beneficial is the enhanced sexual understanding that injects her vampiric attacks with the duality of violence and eroticism. Scattered around the rest of the film are a few Cronenberg regulars and it’s quite fun to spot them: Joe Silver from Shivers, Gary McKeehan turned up in The Brood, Robert A Silverman from Naked Lunch and eXistenZ, that weirdo from the aforementioned early films, etc. In many ways this is all taking place very much in the same universe as the previous year’s Shivers, taking the conclusion of that film one step further by actually demonstrating the outcome of the infectious spread by touching on apocalyptic territory as the whole world around the characters begins to go mad and fall apart - there must surely be a debt here to Romero’s The Crazies and his earlier Night of the Living Dead, and effectively executed it is too. The conclusion to this film suffice it to say, without giving too much away hopefully, is pretty dark. This is quite an ambitious project for a director still in his vocational infancy and would prove to be just a taster of what was to come.

Opening credits present the film in roughly a 1.55:1 ratio, presumably accurate to the source. It then switches to 1.78:1 (enhanced) and is therefore cropped to a small extent. The image graduates between quite rough and average; on a small screen it’s not too bad, it just doesn’t hold up well to large screen projection. Mono sound quality occasionally exhibits hissing but like the image is not the worst I’ve experienced. There’s a short video piece of Cronenberg himself introducing the film, and this is welcome but the disc is otherwise barebones really. There was an ‘SE’ in the US but the only real advantage over this UK disc was the inclusion of a director’s commentary (though that’s a pretty good bonus in the case of Cronenberg, one of the most intriguing directors at work today). Adding a scientific literacy unusual to genre films at that point Cronenberg was establishing himself as a force to be acknowledged with these seventies films and Rabid therefore is an integral cog in the developing machine that was/is David Cronenberg.

1997, US, Directed by Harmony Korine

Colour, Running Time: 89 minutes

DVD, Region 1, New Line, Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: Dolby Digital Stereo

It’s quite difficult to informatively describe what the Gummo experience is like unless the reader has already immersed themselves in its grim realm, partially because it has no specific plot as such (at least in terms of conventional cinema narrative), partially because the images and sounds burnt on to celluloid speak louder than explanatory words ever can. The viewer is dropped hard on their ass into a location somewhere in smalltown America, populated by unsophisticated people that may as well be of extraterrestrial origin, such is the utter unfamiliarity of their behaviour. We spend time following around two teenage boys - Tummler and Solomon, one of the strangest looking children you’ve ever seen - who catch and kill cats for money, sniff glue, have sex with whoever may be willing, etc. The story depicts the activities and eccentricities of these two oddballs for the large part. Then there are two sisters on the dawn of sexual awakening, men who wrestle violently with kitchen chairs, skinhead brothers who punch two types of f**k out of each other, an enthusiastic albino girl who searches for her dream boy while blissfully ignorant to the reality of her chances, deaf people rowing with each other in sign language, a man who charges money for lads to have intercourse with his handicapped sister, a messed up transvestite boy - an ethical enigma who also kills cats for money but in his case does so to support his virtually non-functioning grandmother, etc. Oh yes, and a gay black dwarf.

This sometimes sounds on paper like the product of a banned film but Gummo’s relative obscurity has probably kept controversy at bay. Its effect is almost soul-destroying; the meaningless of people’s lives, here or perhaps anywhere, the cruelty of the world that surrounds them and their involuntary ignorance to this. Despite the near utter blackness of the movie’s material and its guerrilla, underground feel this was a serious project with a ‘proper’ film crew, a real studio behind distribution, actual funding (over one million dollars), and some talented actors. That’s right: actors. You’d swear from the convincing performances on display that all here were real people the director had found, being granted the privilege of filmed glimpses into their sporadically horrifying lives. But, while there are no major stars here of course and the majority of participants were inexperienced from a film perspective, there are quite a few established and professional actors contributing portrayals that you wouldn’t have believed them to be capable of, so realistic are their character depictions. My favourite amongst them is Chloë Sevigny. She’d already appeared in the same director’s previous film Kids, plus the rather smart Steve Buscemi project Trees Lounge and, surely as a testament to her talent, has since gone on to skilfully bring fantastic characters to the screen in American Psycho, Broken Flowers, and Dave Fincher’s Zodiac. At the time I first saw Gummo a few years ago I really believed she was somebody who came from one of these nasty small American towns (I’m sure they’re not all like this, honest!). Similar can be said of most of the occupants of this little world however and consequently the film almost gives the impression of a documentary into daily human life. Some of its brutalities are appropriately supported by extreme metal music though the soundtracks is surprisingly varied - how on earth did they obtain permission to use Madonna’s Like a Prayer here? Elsewhere we have everything from Roy Orbison and Johann Sebastian Bach to Bethlehem and Burzum. The soundtrack also claims to have utilised Bathory’s blistering Equimanthorn (from Under The Sign…) at some point but I’ll be damned if I can hear it anywhere. Anyway, the music is well selected and enhances the onscreen action just as it should. I do dislike the film’s irreverent attitude towards animals (though activity was professionally monitored), however aside from that personal gripe I think Harmony Korine can only be described as a director with an acute perceptiveness uncommon in humankind. Or perhaps he simply refuses to ignore that which everybody refuses to face.

New Line’s DVD looks superb, though bearing in mind some of the imagery was deliberately captured with gritty videotape it otherwise feels much more upmarket than it should. Extras are limited to some behind-scenes photographs with commentary, and filmographies. Gummo is nothing less than a vision of Hell on Earth, more frightening because places and people like this are out there somewhere and this is a diary of what a significant portion of humanity has become. You may be mortified but will likely find yourself staring on at the car-crash spectacle and even re-visiting every know and again to remind yourself that you aint so badly off after all.

1972, Italy, Directed by Giuliano Carnimeo

Colour, Running Time: 91 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Vipco, Video: Letterbox 2.35:1 (compressed to 2.00:1), Audio: Mono

An attractive young female waits as the crowded lift she’s in makes its way to the upper floors. As people gradually depart the lift for their respective floors she’s left alone and almost from nowhere a masked person materialises to brutally murder her. The first woman to see the girl dead is actually an off-duty nightclub dancer/stripper/wrestler (whatever - she puts on a great show either way!) and soon she’s discovered tied up and drowned in her own bathtub. Two carefree models move into the same apartment block and are soon caught up in the investigation, plus one of them in particular - Jennifer - brings her own set of problems to the mix. For a start she’s being stalked by her estranged ex-marital partner who himself could easily be the killer given his psychotic behaviour. Plus she’s a little neurotic herself, or at least appears to be when a couple of unsubstantiated attempts are made on her life. Then she starts dating Barto, one of the primary suspects in the case and himself seeming to be slightly unhinged with his unexplained phobia of blood and occasionally odd behaviour. Barto is actually the architect of the apartment block and some of his talk is a little contradictory, suggesting either a tendency to lie or something worse. To further complicate matters Jennifer’s neighbours are hardly a model of normality and as the bodies start piling up it’s questionable whether she herself will survive.

It’s quite apparent you’re into conventional giallo territory within minutes here: a nubile woman murdered by a gloved, masked killer, the ensuing police investigation, an accused man - Hitchcock style, more stylistically shot murders and a groovy soundtrack. There seems to be a light-hearted appeal to this film, consisting of the funky music score by Bruno Nicolai (not always appropriately used however) and an undercurrent of humour conveyed by the characters, most notably the detective’s bungling assistant. This simultaneously maintains a sense of optimism throughout while (possibly inadvertently?) outlining the brutality of the murders through contextual contrast. George Hilton was something of a regular to this kind of material, here playing Barto the architect whose luck is both extremely bad and on the other hand unbelievably good: he’s implicated for the murders due to being in the worst place at the wrong time, the highlight being when a stabbed victim ends up grabbing on to him in the street just as everyone turns around to see him propping up the dead girl with blood all over his coat. But he also lands himself in the sack with Edwige Fenech, possibly the most stunning woman ever to walk on to a cinema screen. Not only does she have a pleasant, inoffensive personality combined with simultaneous naivety and sexual maturity, but she also has the most perfect body, face and long dark hair ever to be witnessed by mortals. Carnimeo knows this too well: she spends a significant amount of screen time in crazy but hot psychedelic clothes, skimpy clothes, or no clothes at all. While the film could hardly be described as the best the genre has to offer Carnimeo injects his own sense of style periodically; there are a handful of artistically realised shots interjecting the competently executed murder and action sequences. The suspects are quite a fun bunch to pick and choose from: apart from Barto himself and Jennifer’s sect-dwelling ex-lover, there’s the crazy old lady next door (who‘s immediately implicated when seen purchasing horror magazines!), her virtually mute husband, their scarred son, the lesbian neighbour, etc. What a bunch! Ultimately this is a pretty colourful, psychedelic, intermittently amusing ride through giallo territory, with Edwige Fenech as a major bonus.

Anchor Bay once released this stateside inside their much loved Giallo Collection box, while over here we were lucky enough to have Vipco handling the duties… Vipco are one company who truly failed to understand the DVD format with mundane release after mundane release of near VHS quality re-issues of the films that gave them their fame in the first place. Despite that their disc of Case… is actually one of their better ones, featuring an uncut widescreen transfer of a pretty good condition print. They couldn’t quite get the widescreen part right though: in 4:3 mode everybody is slightly thinner than they should be, in 16:9 everyone is slightly fatter, so somehow the proportions are not right, though it’s not quite bad enough to ruin the experience (note, I‘ve digitally corrected the JPEG still above). Sound (English mono) is clean enough while extras are limited to a few trailers for other Vipco discs. Vipco have since put this out in a cheapo iterant with very nasty packaging, plus they’ve coupled it with another film (Snowbeast) in one instance. The aforementioned AB disc was better (being correctly proportioned at anamorphic 2.35:1) but was only available as part the boxed set which is now difficult to get hold of. Blue Underground have since released a lower priced independent version of the same disc, hence that’s currently the best version to go for. Case… itself should moderately please giallo fans, though it’s not the best the genre has to offer, and it will definitely please Edwige Fenech fans. If you happen to be both then you can’t complain. (P.S. Case… has the rather brilliant alternate title of Why These Strange Drops of Blood on the Body of Jennifer?, a closer translation of its original Italian title.)

1942, US, Directed by John Brahm

Black & White, Running Time: 63 minutes

DVD, Region 1, Fox, Video: 1.33:1, Audio: Dolby Digital Stereo

Looking for an answer to Universal’s The Wolf Man Fox took advantage of the up and coming German talent that was John Brahm by offering him a literary adaptation of a mystery-chiller to sink his teeth into. Sourced from a Jessie Douglas Kerruish novel the result was a little different to what Universal might have produced. Taking place mostly around a gloriously old gothic mansion we’re told that the Hammond house is cursed by the sporadic recurring appearance of some sort of abominable creature, something that makes noises suspiciously like that of a wolf. Drafting in the assistance of a couple of eager investigators the frightened household attempt to get to the bottom of the mystery as the threat of death becomes ever closer with the rabid monster that lurks in the woods.

The primary difference between Fox’s rare stab at lycanthropy and Universal’s earlier film is the minimal usage of the titular monster itself - whereas Universal could usually barely wait to display its cards at the earliest moment (though they were comparatively restrained in The Wolf Man) this story doesn’t even offer us a real glimpse of the creature until the last few minutes. Prior to that the film adopts the style of a mystery effectively making it a hybrid of two genres (it was actually marketed in the UK as The Hammond Mystery), therefore it’s quite unusual and refreshing in light of Universal’s then standard approach to fright films. This amalgamation of narrative types helps to highlight the project as something that stands out amidst a decade of stagnation in the genre (aside from some of Val Lewton’s productions). The other factor in this success is John Brahm’s artistic direction - often are we treated to imaginatively realised shots and aesthetically prominent lighting, surely something that stems back to Brahm’s Germanic roots. Some of the camera movements are quite daring and ahead of their time with tracking shots that one wouldn’t expect in a forties film and angles that remind the viewer of certain expressionistic ventures twenty years prior. The dialogue scene shot in its entirety from behind a fire is a memorable instance of Brahm’s desire to push cinematic ideas forward. The characters are typical forties stereotypes really, ranging from marginally neurotic to relentlessly optimistic, though it’s an amicable enough mix and their near constant dialogue exchanges keep the film moving along at a rapid pace, something which is necessary anyway when the film only runs at just over an hour long. Being so sparingly used (to put it mildly) the creature consequently has some impact, both in underpinning the entire story with its virtually invisible presence and in the anticipation that is aroused while one waits for its eventual onscreen appearance, something that you may start to doubt is ever going to happen such is the wait. However, this makes a nice contrast to Universal’s show-all philosophy, enhancing suspense in the process. Also, while it seems to be a given in most of the Universal films that supernatural phenomenon exists with many of the characters accepting such possibilities, here the people involved spend much of the film questioning the validity of the curse and looking for alternative explanations. This could simply be a reflection of the studio’s refusal to take the genre too seriously but it does add a richness to both the dialogue and characters themselves as they attempt to make sense of the threat that grips them.

Packaged with the other two films made during Brahm’s Fox contract this is a lovely set. Undying Monster has undergone restoration that shows surprising respect for the material and has resulted in pleasing image and sound. Along with trailer, stills and advertising poster sections, we also get a short but sweet 15 minute retrospective look at the director’s brief contribution to film (he later went on to work on such television projects as The Twilight Zone and Outer Limits so his talent didn’t completely go to waste). You’ll also find a couple of cool postcards inside the gorgeously designed box. Fans of the genre will want to seek out this set and rejoice that such a classy entry has been granted commendable treatment.

2003, US, Directed by Marcus Nispel

Colour, Running Time: 94 minutes

DVD, Region 2, EIV, Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: DTS

Tobe Hooper’s original Texas Chainsaw Massacre had a seriously problematic history in Britain, it’s no secret, and it’s this BBFC-induced reputation that’s helped to tarnish fair opinion of it in many ways: commonly acknowledged as a ‘banned’ film it immediately attracted a certain kind of film fan (and I was that kind for a while), interested in gore and that which is forbidden. There wasn’t too much gore in the film; on the contrary there was hardly any, but one walked away with the impression it was much bloodier than was truthfully the case. Eventually it received a legitimate release in Britain and suddenly attracted another kind of viewer: the average Joe who’s heard about the controversy and wonders what all the fuss is about. Placing a metaphoric ten foot barrier in front of themselves while watching they invariably walked away without having flinched and thinking there was a big fuss for nothing. Unfortunately people’s self-erected barriers these days are so impenetrable it’s almost impossible to shock, plus the controversy itself overshadows the quality of the 1974 film and suddenly a notorious classic becomes a forgotten relic. Fuss aside, the original film is one of my favourites and something that I connect with on a level that’s difficult to describe to those blinded by surrounding politics and expectations, but I’m not particularly concerned because I can always go back and enjoy that amazing piece of cinema. So why remake such a revered (in some quarters) and overwhelmingly known film? Perhaps it was a drive to redress the balance and shock those who are otherwise unshockable. Perhaps the idea was to make a seventies low budget horror accessible to those who can’t sit through something made before they were born. Or maybe it was just a cynical way of making a few million out of a pre-established franchise. Either way the project was something I avoided like the plague for several years until a friend told me it was actually pretty good and I saw it in Music Zone for a few quid on DVD.

For a while it follows a very similar path to Hooper’s film: a group of kids are travelling in a small van (to Mexico) for a road holiday when they pick up a hitchhiker that causes them some concern with visible behavioural difficulties. An isolated house is discovered by a couple of members of the group and it’s found to be populated by a retarded family whose homicidal tendencies are inflicted upon the kids. The narrative quickly begins to deviate slightly from the original’s plot specifics with the hitchhiker they pick up, a girl who blows her own head off in front of them rather than playing Army with a knife (the new film being heavier handed no doubt but reflective of the sledgehammer approach of modern genre films). Beyond that it zigzags around the original storyline changing a few details to keep us on our feet while effectively remaining a retelling at its core. Initially I thought the kids this time around would be irritable, as they often always are in modern slashers, but once their bubble of optimism is burst by the hitchhiker’s suicide things tense up and they become quite realistic in their responses to their very threatening situations. Or at least as realistic as you can imagine people being when confronted with problems such as this - it’s difficult to predict how people will act of course. The family of creeps is realised effectively, topped by a fantastically sinister turn by Lee Ermey as the sheriff - he’s actually quite restrained compared to appearances in the likes of Full Metal Jacket but he’s so convincingly inhuman in his treatment of the kids you can barely prevent yourself from being glued to the screen. His presence is one of the primary factors contributing to the film’s success. The remainder of the cast are usually functional or above so there are no real complaints; in fact I was surprised by the intensity of Jessica Biel’s effort as the equivalent of Marilyn Burns from the original film - whilst not screaming to the point of excess she conveys a believable torrent of unleashed terror, another key to success in a film such as this it goes without saying. Naturally the make up and special effects are utterly gruesome whilst violence and outright sadism must surely top the original. The flesh-clad Leatherface has been developed visually  without betrayal of the source ideas (reportedly derived from the exploits of serial killer Ed Gein) and is all the more enhanced for it, similarly the production design is of a high standard and helps draw you into the nightmare. Overall the visual design has amazing impact - style of cinematography is artistically beautiful despite the nastiness that pervades the screen. A level of tension is reasonably well maintained for much of the running time and the result appears to be far from the gratuitous exercise is pointless ostentatiousness it could have been.

Entertainment in Video released this on DVD on behalf of New Line over here in the UK, granting us with a smart extra-packed two disc set too. The anamorphically enhanced, correctly framed image is immaculate boasting gorgeous colour schemes essentially consisting of green and brown palettes, and mountains of detail, while the DTS soundtrack (with optional Dolby Digital 5.1) will shake your walls if you want to show off your kit. A great set for a remake that’s not destined for the dustbin, or at least it shouldn’t be.

1969, Canada, Directed by David Cronenberg

Colour, Running Time: 63 minutes

DVD, Region 1, Blue Underground, Video: Anamorphic 1.66:1, Audio: Mono

Prior to Stereo (1967) David Cronenberg had been uncertain where to take his career and had flirted with proceeding along the science route to the point of enrolling and studying for a while, but a certain degree of boredom followed. Having switched academic direction to focus on English Literature he’d met a number of amateur film-makers and become fascinated by the immediacy of the results, therefore he began to dabble teaching himself the technical ins and outs of the art of film-making. Following two experimental shorts he persuaded the Canadian Council to provide some funding under the illusion he would be writing fiction, something he’d previously attempted to achieve success at via submission of short stories, though to no avail. The result was Stereo and pleased with the clinical product he was inspired to continue: he wrote and directed Crimes of the Future, something that resonates on similar levels to his previous work while foreshadowing elements that would materialise again in some of his later films.

Narrated by the controller of some kind of medical institution we’re exposed to the odd man’s fascination with various forms of sexual deviation and its occasionally consequential diseases. Along the way he comes across a person whose body produces complex miniature organs, described as a ‘creative cancer’ - this is no doubt the seed of Cronenberg’s frequent explorations of so-called body horror; the mutation of an organism into something else, whether it be evolutionary or initiated by the infiltration of an alien (not as in extraterrestrial) entity. There are influences here along with his future work that are derived from his earlier scientific studying, something cultivated by his father who openly encouraged anything Cronenberg would become passionate about no matter how transient it might prove. The richness of the director’s educational childhood would feed his visceral imagination later on with an abundance of unusual concepts, no doubt assisted by the fact that both of his parents were creatively inclined. However, his ideas would take time to filter and develop into something palatable by the general public and neither Stereo nor Crimes… can claim to be this. Like Stereo this later film, now shot in colour, is hard to digest and almost impossible to actually enjoy. Despite that there are occasions when it’s not easy to turn one’s eye away from the screen, such is the unusual nature of occurrences on screen - you never really know what’s going to happen next or where the meagre story will take you. Shot on 35mm film the look is fantastic and Cronenberg’s use of architecture is profound, his characters wandering around complicated structures that create a sense of foreboding. Much of the material is silent (though not to the same extent as Stereo), punctuated by the voice of the strange narrator in a rather Hal-esque fashion along with intermittent industrial sound effects that pre-empt David Lynch’s Eraserhead. The inhabitants of the institutes are so unusual, residents of another dimension almost, that the viewer won’t find it easy to connect emotionally with the material. On an intellectual level there is some food for thought, though it can reach academic levels of textbook iteration and therefore require concentration to comprehend and dissect. The explorations of homosexuality along with suggestions of other forms of sexual deviation border on the disturbing.

Blue Underground’s rescue of this incredibly obscure film is highly commendable - if not for them it could have remained unseen forever. The source material is in incredible condition and as a result the transfer looks like it could have been taken from a new film. The monaural soundtrack is in similarly excellent shape, the powerful silences uninterrupted by damage. Whilst one would have appreciated an accompanying director’s commentary we can’t ask for much more than this, though it may be hard to find on disc now as the hosting Fast Company double-discer is out of print. I am never going to love Crimes of the Future but as someone who admires much of its director’s subsequent offerings it is of historical and archival importance.

1980, US, Directed by John Carpenter

Colour, Running Time: 86 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Momentum, Video: Anamorphic 2.35:1, Audio: Dolby Digital 5.1

For every cool movie John Carpenter produces there almost seems to be a diametric stinker, particularly over the latter half of his career - in fact he‘s not actually released a feature film since the 2001 debacle Ghosts of Mars (Masters of Horror doesn‘t count). He’d already attracted attention in the mid seventies with the violent Assault on Precinct 13 but really established himself as a genre director of value with Halloween of course. Following a couple of inconsequential TV projects (where he met future star Kurt Russell) Carpenter signed a two film deal with AVCO Embassy and went back to the traditional ghost story to add his own modern spin for The Fog. Written with previous Halloween collaborator Debra Hill the story fixates on the perpetually windy coastal town of Antonio Bay, a place where a ship full of pirates died a hundred or so years before. Strange things start happening around the town as a thick fog drifts in slowly from the ocean and Nick Castle discovers that some old fishing friends have been brutally murdered while out to sea. Taking almost residential position at a lighthouse over the town is DJ Stevie Wayne, host of the one and only radio station in the town. As she realises that the fog contains something malevolent and unexplainable she takes to offering broadcast guidance to Castle and his companion as they try to rescue Wayne’s son while preserving their own lives.

As the ghost story it intends to be The Fog is successful on its own terms. Reuniting a couple of people from Halloween along with several other recognisable but not big-name faces, Carpenter generally has a readymade cast of likeable individuals at his disposal, including Jamie Lee Curtis (with her mom Janet Leigh showing up too) and a brilliantly cynical Nancy Loomis as a PA who really should have had more screen time. Tom Atkins (as Castle) is always fun to watch and almost approximates the same personality as my favourite of his characters - Detective Cameron in Night of the Creeps. Adrienne Barbeau’s DJ is a necessary part of the story but undeniably corny. DJ’s tend to become dated as quickly as the pop records they promote in my opinion and it’s this element that really drags the film back to the beginning of the eighties from whence it was born. It’s also a little too close to the embarrassing DJ effort later displayed in Fulci/Mattei’s messy Zombie 3, however it is marginally possible to become accustomed to over repeat viewings and so shouldn’t cause viewers too much lasting psychological damage. In fact she demonstrates such a degree of geographical insight when guiding Atkins and Curtis through the town she could probably have stood in for Google Earth prior to its inception. The overall feel of the film isn’t far removed from Halloween actually, both as far as its visual style is concerned and the creeping atmosphere. Aside from collaborating with Debra Hill again as well as utilising some of the same cast, this probably has something to do with the fact that cinematographer Dean Cundey returned to photograph for Carpenter as well as the director once again writing his own music score, something which he’s proved very good at over the years - his father worked as a musician with some of the more famous names of his era so John himself no doubt had a strong foundation from which to catapult his own musical inclinations. The Fog is a great film really and a guaranteed thrill ride I always look forward to, but it could have been a different story: much like Star Wars: A New Hope before it the earlier cuts were looking very bad and resulted in a few touches of violence being added, some reshoots, amendments to the score, etc. Carpenter and his crew managed to pull the rabbit out of the hat to release a low-budget movie that went on to pleasing success, since to become a recognised work of cult interest.

Momentum’s UK DVD provides us with the essential full Panavision frame (the US DVD provided a pan & scan version on side 2 which serves no other purpose than to illustrate in comparison how indispensable the 2.35:1 compositions are). While looking very good in lighter scenes the transfer exhibits excess grain during darker moments. There is also a slightly beefed up 5.1 mix of the original sound, obviously not competing with today’s surround tracks but serving to enhance the envelopment just slightly. Supplemented with plentiful extras we have a generous offering of a cool eighties movie that even modern day remakes can’t surpass…

1981, Spain, Directed by Jess Franco

Colour, Running Time: 77 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Anchor Bay, Video: Anamorphic 2.35:1, Audio: Dolby Digital 5.1

Jess Franco has polarised audiences more than most over the years, largely due to the variable quality and the extremely subjective nature of responses elicited by his inordinate amount of movies, the actual quantity of which probably the director himself isn’t sure of. Whether he’s specifically a talented director or not is difficult to say: his output seems to swing between admittedly very good (Eugenie… The Story of Her Journey Into Perversion) the bad but still quite enjoyable on some level (Oasis of the Zombies; yeah I know everybody else hates it!) and the plain painful to watch (Down Town). If he’s an incompetent film-maker then why has he occasionally produced a minor gem, and similarly if he’s adept then why does he in other instances manage to create such horrific cinematic car wrecks? Macumba Sexual in my opinion falls somewhere around the middle of the scale: a simplified story appears at first glance to be merely an excuse for near-hardcore pornographic imagery, such is its abundance. Perhaps it is, but it may be worth looking deeper. Lina Romay was to Jess Franco what Dianne Keaton/Mia Farrow (etc.) has been to Woody Allen and Brigitte Lahaie was to Jean Rollin, and here she takes principal role (Alice, the actress billed as “Candy Coster“) as an estate agent enjoying a beach holiday with her husband. He’s attempting to write a novel while Alice sunbathes hoping her boss won’t disturb her. But of course she quickly receives a phone call asking her to visit a nearby island to sell some property to a resident princess who’s interested in buying abroad (shades of Dracula). Reluctantly heading off to the remote island, and leaving the husband to his book, she’s somewhat perturbed to find the princess is the same woman who’s been haunting her dreams for weeks. It’s not quite clear whether Alice is kept prisoner but for a while she’s explicitly seduced by the princess and her servants before being found washed up on the beach by her husband. What she doesn’t realise is that her husband has been having similar visions and, quite intrigued by her possibly false story of being violated, he takes off without her to the island so he can see or experience for himself whether what she’s told him is the truth.

Aside from Romay’s seemingly perpetually naked body the main thing this film really has going for it seems to be Franco’s forte: its surreal dreamlike atmosphere supplemented with symbolic imagery that may or may not be randomly chosen. Franco didn’t have access to the greatest actors on the planet (though some of them aren’t too bad) so their often offbeat performances actually contribute to his strange visions in this case. Pacing is sombre, again a contributory factor to the mood’s overall effect while a large portion of the running time is filled with surprisingly explicit shots involving almost all of the cast; more surprising is the fact that the BBFC passed it uncut in Britain, presumably this being partly because they probably feel that a film such as this will attract the smallest of audiences over here and is of minimal ‘threat’ to public morality. Then again, I’m not exactly familiar with current attitude towards hardcore so perhaps Macumba Sexual isn’t as edgy as it once might have been. Like Mansion of the Living Dead, which is almost a companion piece to this film, there’s the feeling that the characters are in a lost universe, such is the feeling of seclusion, and this of course works in the story’s favour but whether the viewer can enjoy such a journey is purely dependent on his/her temperament on the day along with their tolerance for unusual slices of cinema. While the film is technically superior to much of Franco’s other work - cinematographer Juan Soler must surely take significant credit for this, plus the tribal soundtrack is acute - some will still look at this a piece of horse manure. I don’t personally think it’s a supreme work of art by any measure but there is something alluring about the film and its expedition through surreal, sexually charged territories.

Taking the new master created by Severin in the US as a source, Anchor Bay have a very good transfer on their hands here. As aforementioned the film is uncut, presented in an anamorphic 2.35:1 aspect ratio with original Spanish audio (reportedly there was no English dub available anyway), sound options as Dolby Digital mono or a quite unnecessary 5.1. The twenty minutes or so of interview footage on the Severin disc is omitted but considering the low price of the boxed set that Macumba Sexual inhabits one can’t complain and Anchor Bay should receive some commendation for bringing obscurities to British soil, regardless of how many or how few people actually admire such work.