The Grim Cellar

1993, US, Directed by Henry Selick

Colour, Running Time: 76 minutes

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

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

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

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

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

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

2006, US, Directed by John Lasseter

Animation, Running Time: 116 minutes

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

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

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

1998, US, Directed by Darren Aronofsky

Black & White, Running Time: 80 minutes

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

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

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

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

1963, UK, Directed by John Schlesinger

Black & White, Running Time: 98 minutes

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

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

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

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

1997, US, Directed by James Cameron

Colour, Running Time: 187 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, Fox; Video: Letterbox 2.30:1, Audio: DD 5.1

Cameron’s nineties blockbuster Titanic is one of those movies that neatly slots people into categories: there are those that love(d) it, those that have seen it and hate it, and those that haven’t seen it but hate it anyway. It attracts such polarised responses not for the extent of its qualities as a piece of art or cinema I believe, but more so because of its status as an epic romance - hardly a recommendation for hip factor or street cred. The most obvious initial problem with tackling the story of the Titanic’s sinking is that everybody would already know how it ends (well, excepting today’s youth generation perhaps, who are apparently more aware of who Simon Cowell is than God himself according to recent surveys). What Cameron decided to do was weave in a fictitious onboard romantic drama with the historical details, one that should invite in audience sympathy via a side door rather than attempt the more obvious front door and risk preconceived boredom. Using a present-day wraparound idea, an old woman recounts her days aboard the Titanic ship on its maiden (and only - for the youngsters) voyage. An upper-class girl, Rose is about to be roped into a marriage to an abhorrent man, ultimately leading a life of unfulfilment and worthlessness. She feels trapped and suffocated by the fact that she’s being ushered along by cultural expectation and social/family pressures, thus she attempts to resort to the only escape she can imagine: suicide. That is until Jack persuades her otherwise. Having won his ticket to board, he’s essentially a homeless wanderer who lives purely for what each day brings as it materialises, travels to wherever he pleases, and does almost as he likes without really harming anyone. By all accounts he’s the antithesis of Rose and where he’s happy with his minimal status and non-existent financial worth she has everything materialistically to look forward but no joy. The instant and developing attraction between them is the cause for much class and personal conflict amongst Rose’s aristocratic acquaintances - then the boat hits an iceberg and their fight to survive together becomes infinitely more desperate.

Cameron had progressed his varying movie-making skills over the years, realising talents that were clearly budding back when Terminator was released, proving that with modest resource he could put together a cracking, technically adept story that brought in reasonable returns. Through The Abyss and the sequel to the 1984 Arnie classic Cameron established an ability to utilise cinema’s technologies, not just in a derivative manner but to a point where he was instrumental in their evolution. But beneath the wizardry he understood how to craft a story and this is the factor that’s kept his films alive all these years, including Titanic. If you can’t (or don’t want to) identify with the characters of Rose and Jack and their ensuing relationship then the film will fail for you - everything sinks or floats (excuse the pun) based on that. Thankfully I can identify with them, despite not having much of a liking for Leonardo DiCaprio, and I get sucked right in I’m sorry to say! Kate Winslet was at peak here and was photographed stunningly - her beauty was astounding and the plight that brings her to almost self-destruction is understandable and engaging. Titanic is almost a film of two halves, the first establishing the people along with their various situations while snowballing the relationship between the two leads, the second focusing on the effects of the catastrophic impact between ship and iceberg, the love story operating alongside. Because most of us truly feel for Rose and Jack by the time the ship strikes the berg there is a tingling emotional connection between us and the disaster that unfolds: the impact on the viewer is magnificent despite being pre-empted due to its historical significance. And even after seeing the movie several times, scenes where Rose is attempting to break Jack free from his handcuffs as water rises or the fumbling of a key in the lock of a barrier, for example, are incredibly tense; a sign of great cinematic storytelling. Underlying this are the class struggles that seemed to be more apparent in preceding eras, though divisions are probably as present now as they ever were. Herein people are treated according to their fateful status in life, and there is in hindsight a rather sledgehammer approach to this - the fact that Jack and Rose are from essentially opposing classes accentuates this social/political aspect of the narrative. This black and white view of life is where the only real problem in the film lies for me - the upper classes generate the handful of evil people in Titanic, and these people are all English of course (good being generally represented by Irish and American). This seemed to be the start of a trend for English-bashing in film, something that’s an easy target in today’s PC times. Aside from this hiccup, unconscious or otherwise, and a smattering of corny occurrences along the voyage that I don‘t really need to go into, Cameron pulls us inevitably to the sinking of the ship. This monolithic climax lasts for at least an hour, one very frightening and sobering hour, and this leads to a very emotional conclusion. The touching score is instrumental in maintaining the ongoing emotive drive and thankfully Celine Dion’s sappy voice and the piece that infinitely did the rounds on the radio back in ‘98 doesn’t kick in until the end credits are rolling. Whether Titanic is a historical recreation first and foremost or a romantic epic is up to the viewer to decide, but either way it’s a powerful and emotionally vibrant tale from a gifted director who’s been absent from feature films for way too long.

1970, France, Directed by Jess Franco

Colour, Running Time: 84 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, Hardgore; Video: 1.33:1, Audio: DD Mono

We take a moment to peer into the insane world of that Spanish auteur/madman Jess Franco, the director who’s created movies that even some of his ardent fans hate the sight of. Amidst an excessive proliferation of creative output there have been a few nails hit and some may consider it worth wading through the excrement to find them. Alternatively you may let us poor, tormented reviewers do it for you… A popular nightclub dancer’s act of strange and slow paced erotica lures the eye of an eccentric mademoiselle and the naïve woman is enticed back to a house where she is almost held willing captive for some period of time, the bars being the promise of fame/fortune, etc. During this time she repeatedly finds herself experiencing lucid dreaming, progressively confusing what’s actually happening around her with what’s possibly pure imaginative fantasy. The dreams take on a sadistic and increasingly sexual tone as the woman’s perceptions distort and sanity begins to crumble. Is she losing her mind or is there something more calculating going on with her mistress or the strange people across the street who peer at her from behind closed windows?

The aura of Nightmares… is appropriately dreamlike and surreal, as in many of Franco’s better works. Whether intentional or not, the misty look of the image accommodates the uncanny nature of the material aptly, and our perception of what’s really going on is blurred with efficacy until closer to the conclusion. The crowning creative achievement, however, is Bruno Nicolai’s necessarily schizophrenic score, swiftly alternating between psychedelic jazz and the haunting whining of strings at the drop of a hat - he understands what Franco was trying to capture on film and accentuates it. The soundtrack is an integral part of the beauty to be found here. Conversely Franco’s cinematic techniques can be quite irritating at times: his compositions seem to be largely random, and that damned zoom lens (a staple of many of his works) should have been banned. For the most part the underlying story can be seen as a feeble excuse for consistent softcore pornography as the females relentlessly stroll around either naked or titillatingly exposed to varying degrees - it’s actually quite steamy and makes for comfortable entertainment on a couple of levels. Unfortunately the narrative is undermined by an attempt in the final act to authenticate the preceding events by returning the story to earth, thereby dissolving the mysterious ambience that had been built up. Franco drops the ball here and a shame it is because he inadvertently or otherwise had something quite ethereal and sexy on his hands up until that point. It is nevertheless essential viewing for Franco fans and those who might enjoy seventies eroticism or surreal fantasy. Everyone else may be driven mad.

Hardgore’s DVD would appear to be a convert of the earlier Shriek Show release, containing similar specifications and extras. The film has its original title over the credits (La Cauchemars Naissent la Nuit) but alas the audio is presented in awful dubbed English. The SS disc contained a French language option in addition to the English, so this alone makes it a clear winner. The Hardgore is well stocked aside from that sad omission: a twenty three minute featurette on the Eurocine production company, originators of many a terrible movie plus a few minor gems too - quite a few clips of rare pieces are included. This is followed by a twenty four minute interview with an aging but jovial Jess Franco, though I found his thick accent hard to follow at times. A fake trailer for Nightmares… is also present alongside a large number of trailers for other Hardgore releases, some of them worth watching, some of them need to be avoided but this at least gives you an idea which of their other discs might suit your tastes. I really can’t stand some of these modern shot-on-video timewasters, on the other hand a few of the pre-nineties movies (The Boneyard and Creepozoids for example) bring back memories and I may try to pick them up. Taking Hardgore’s DVD (admittedly nicely designed) cover art into consideration, much is made of Soledad Miranda’s involvement in Nightmares Come At Night but it should be noted the ill-fated beauty only has a small role, though she does get quite a portion of the extras devoted to her one way or another, and her costumes on screen in the movie itself are on the rather hot side… Nightmares… is an erotically-charged exploration of surrealism with expository flaws that could have been avoided, and aside from a soft, non-progressive image and English-only audio, it gives Hardgore their best DVD I’ve yet seen (thanks more so to US-based Media Blasters).

1972, Italy/Thailand, Directed by Umberto Lenzi

Colour, Running Time: 86 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, Hardgore; Video: Anamorphic 2.35:1, Audio: DD Mono

It seems almost everybody has heard of Cannibal Holocaust, partly thanks to similarities portrayed in the more approachable Blair Witch Project, partly due simply to its brutal notoriety as one of the nastier films of all time. The film was the most prominent component of a wider sequence that flourished to an extent throughout the seventies and before quickly dying a death in the early eighties, probable as a result of lack of diversity - you can only do so much with this sort of material before people go off looking for other things to interest them, such as political dramas and romantic comedies. The cycle often followed a predetermined narrative; ignorant westerners stumbling into jungles inhabited by evolutionary throwbacks in the shape of carnivorous natives with a taste for human limbs and organs. Along the way the westerners (and therefore, we) would witness horrific acts of barbarity that would push the boundaries of cinema to extremes, along with testing the limits of our constitution. Unfortunately these acts often utilised the ‘services’ of real animals and new depths in the search for entertainment and enterprise were reached. This latter point of course illustrates an indefensible staple of cannibal movies, at least from my point of view, but the continuation of productions throughout a decade or so must surely outline questions regarding the public search for entertainment. And indeed this links into the main moral focus that is dubiously raised time and again throughout the sub-genre, that there is at core little difference between us and the so-called savages portrayed as opposition to the westerners - we are endogenously barbaric ourselves. This is the real and oft forgotten reason that Cannibal Holocaust is the best of the bunch: it actually outlines that point better than any of the others and almost seems to have some social relevance amidst its rape and mutilation, though its means is still to some degree unjustifiable.

So where does Deep River Savages fit into all of this? Well, this film could be considered the starting point for the whole thing. The tone slightly differs to what would commonly follow but many of the trappings are still present. After being deserted by his girlfriend in Thailand, a London photographer gets into a brawl in a bar that results in a Thai man’s death. Despite a potential argument for self defence he heads off into the night to disappear, not realising that that’s precisely what he will soon be doing… Heading off towards the wilderness until the whole thing has chance to blow over, he arranges a long and quiet guide-driven sail down the river, eventually into uncharted territory. After several uneventful days of photography and sleeping his guide is found murdered by the side of the boat and John is promptly captured by the local natives that killed the man. What follows is several weeks of punishment, humiliation, attempted escapes, and slavery as John becomes gradually accustomed to what appears to be his new life in the tribe’s village. Until Marayå, a woman he has caught the eye of, experiences increasing attraction to the western man culminating in John being accepted as part of the tribe and marrying Marayå. But the imminent danger of neighbouring tribes is never far from reality…

What is essentially the birth of the cannibal movie surprisingly transpires to be a grisly-exploitation-movie-cum-love-story. Much attention is placed on the progressing relationship between John (Ivan Rassimov from many an Italian exploitation flick) and sexy native girl Marayå (actually Me Me Lai attempting to further her career after a stint in Sale of the Century). John’s former girlfriend is mysteriously banished from memory as he embarks upon a mission that will change his perspective on life forever. There are a couple of things to enjoy in Il Paese del Sesso Selvaggio (or Man From Deep River) believe it or not. Firstly the locations are attractive and make for striking travelogue-style imagery. Next is John’s voyage down the river, which actually musters a little bit of tension as the titular savages remain persistently unseen until he’s accosted. Finally there’s the omnipresent but underlying feeling of hopelessness as John’s repeated attempts to emancipate himself are thwarted before he’s dragged back to the village for more problems. This film initiated a trend for animal suffering that was to continue without any real justification, and this is where for once the BBFC’s intervention is merciful - they’ve removed almost all of it from this Hardgore disc. Lenzi was to make a name for himself in the sub-genre and went on to direct Eaten Alive (Mangiati Vivi!), a reasonable concoction of adventure and cannibalistic violence, and Cannibal Ferox, the man’s similarly horrific answer to …Holocaust. He was never going to be an Oscar winner of course but did manage to produce a couple of genuinely entertaining non-cannibal movies along the way, Nightmare City being my personal favourite.

Deep River Savages is almost palatable in its UK-approved censored version, exhibiting little animal violence (though there is one throat cutting of a goat that caught me off guard near the conclusion so beware) and only snippets of fairly heavy gore here and there. It’s nowhere near as nihilistic as what would come later on and its delineation of taboo love adds something of worth to the material. The influence apparently derived from the earlier western A Man Called Horse, to which Lenzi’s film bears more than a passing thematic resemblance, is also of historical interest to buffs. It’s never going to make any top ten lists but neither is it competing for any worst movie prizes either. The Hardgore DVD looks quite appealing in its fully scoped glory but is missing around 4 minutes (perhaps more) of visceral imagery that most people would really rather not see anyway. Back in the seventies this film was rejected outright in Britain by the BBFC, it was then technically banned on video and briefly placed on the DPP list during the eighties, there was then the strange appearance of a reportedly uncut though terribly cropped disc (DVD Classics) several years ago - I could only assume this to be a disc production error because there’s no way the board would allow this through uncut as long as they were awake when viewing. Media Blasters in the US have put out the best disc hitherto, being fully uncut and containing an Italian soundtrack alongside the English with optional subtitles. There’s also a ten minute interview on that disc. Despite that, casual viewers who’d prefer not to see cruelty to innocent creatures could safely get by with the Hardgore DVD reviewed here.

2003, US/Japan, Directed by Sofia Coppola

Colour, Running Time: 97 minutes

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

Film is considered by a portion of humanity to be escapism, a means to separate an individual from the apparent reality that surrounds and engulfs them and temporarily immerse them within a universe created by someone else. One of the keys to successfully immersing the viewer within a film-maker’s universe is implanting into it a character that will exhibit characteristics that might remind the audience of themselves in some way - they will often more readily offer themselves as willing participants on the journey, and this is where I think the brilliance of Lost in Translation lies primarily. For those who are unaware, Bob is an admired and financially secure movie star who has become the (well recognised) face of an expensive alcoholic beverage so lending himself to taking an extra couple of million dollars at his agent’s request he’s staying in Japan for a few days to shoot some commercials advertising the drink. He’s quickly revealed to us to be grossly unsettled with his life: a marital state that bores him, children that probably don’t really like him anymore, a career that has diverted along a route that doesn’t particularly interest his classical sensibilities, and amidst all this is an escalating feeling of isolation and misplacement. Simultaneously Charlotte, a young newlywed also from the US, is staying in Tokyo with her husband while he cultivates his photography career. As he spends his days out shooting pictures and wallowing in blissful ignorance she spends her days becoming depressed and losing faith in what she might have thought was good about life. Inevitably Bob and Charlotte’s lives are destined to cross as they’re staying in the same flash hotel, and despite there being a significant age gap between them, somehow they bring to each other what they both need: companionship (albeit transient), silent understanding, entertainment, and a glimmer of light.

It may be appropriate to describe Coppola’s film as a ‘romance’ but that would perhaps be trivialising the achievement whilst also giving the wrong impression considering the movie’s consistent avoidance of cliché. In addition there is somewhat greater depth to the two main characters than might be the case in your average love story, and it should be explained that there is no sex or love-making here - it’s been replaced by existential, or possibly spiritual connection making it altogether more poignant. Placing Bob and Charlotte in the very alien world that is Japan (captured quite nicely by the intricate picture quality of the DVD) instantly emphasises their isolation from humanity (whilst as a side effect highlights the distinct difference between cultures) and serves as a tool to facilitate viewer sympathy. I don’t especially consider myself your average viewer, given the fact that my tastes tend to differ from people who mostly adhere to what’s popular so I can’t say how the average viewer will respond to characters that are essentially ‘lost’, but I think Coppola has tapped into a little investigated human state here and I can identify with the condition even if the people themselves lead somewhat different lives. This is where the film functions at its strongest level and presumably there are others out there who appreciate the same attributes, taking note of the vast number of awards it acquired following its release. This very low budget production also went on to return a nice sum for its backers, which is reassuring. Of course there’s more to this project’s strengths than its insightfully written premise: Bill Murray as Bob yet again proves that he’s got to be one of the best actors living/working today, plus it’s nice to see Scarlett Johansson in a role prior to her ego-feeding, planet-sweeping stardom (that this film probably initiated) - natural beauty combined with talent in roughly equal measure. Looking at her then compared to now indicates that her apparent perfection was only ever going to be eroded by the world’s acknowledgement of such an amazing creature, hence all the more reason to saviour what’s here. The story also features in no small measure a subtle yet effective sense of humour, taking advantage of Murray’s comic abilities as well as lightening the mood throughout. Then there is an appropriate score that contributes towards the induction of the right emotions at the right times.

Lost in Translation is one of those rare movies that makes watching them truly worthwhile - an exquisite piece of intelligent art that’s not merely entertainment; it’s relevant on a metaphysical level, tapping into a human condition and dissecting it to see what’s going on. It gives us something to think about and makes us feel more comfortable because, for those of us who identify, it makes you feel like there’s somebody else out there like you and you’re not necessarily suffering alone. Nice work, Ms. Coppola.

2004, US, Directed by Frank Oz

Colour, Running Time: 89 minutes

DVD, Region 2 (Sweden), Dreamworks, Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: Dolby Digital 5.1

There was a time when I believed certain actors could be relied upon to bring their prestigious names to projects that were worth devoting a couple of hours of hard-earned attention to, the association being that such a talented thespian might also be able to distinguish between the great and the shite. For example, Nicole Kidman’s résumé included the gripping Dead Calm, the masterpiece that is Eyes Wide Shut, the pretty chilling The Others, as well as offering a brilliant performance in Birthday Girl - she’s a naturally good looking woman with a solid grasp on what constitutes becoming a character. So why then choose toss like Bewitched and The Stepford Wives to devote several months of her life to? Similarly Christopher Walken has given us Sleepy Hollow, The Dead Zone, True Romance and Batman Returns, amongst smelly brown stuff that gets irritatingly stuck to the bottom of your shoe like Click, America’s Sweethearts, Country Bears and, well, The Stepford Wives. Actually I may be generalising and perhaps the good outweighs the bad (I haven’t seen every film ever made) but I get kind of frustrated watching smart, able people waste their time looking stupid to create something that wastes my time (I can look stupid by myself, thanks). Then again maybe Kidman’s not so smart: apparently she took this role on account of Oz’s history bringing Miss Piggy to life, and Kidman’s a big fan of Miss Piggy. Stellar script? Social value? Philosophical message? Forget it - Miss Piggy kicked ass so I’m in!

The Stepford Wives was of course originally made in 1974-5, based on a book by Ira Levin. If I remember correctly it was a fairly decent and straight adaptation of the story that focuses on a town where all of the female dwellers act with strangely perfect behavioural patterns, going out of their way to please husbands in a manner that was at odds with the feminist revolution that was ruining marriages and hierarchical stability everywhere at the time. It turns out that the men in the town had been replacing their wives with incredibly sophisticated robots who didn’t complain, didn’t nag, did the housework religiously, and made love like Greek goddesses. The plot had some resonance at the time because it sort of tapped into all the women’s rights malarkey that was being pushed by angry females across the western world. Nowadays it’s not so relevant because women have great jobs, they drive 4×4 vehicles and, given scientific advances, sometimes don’t even need a man around to produce offspring - amazing, really. A remake therefore is quite pointless standing on the merit of its own premise, so the producers here have opted to take a comedic approach to the material, the only real problem with this being that virtually nothing here will elicit a smile, least of all ‘laughter’, something which a viewer might expect with anything that presents itself as comedy. Matthew Broderick is Kidman’s completely inadequate male companion, someone who can’t earn as much as she, or can’t do anything as well as she so he gradually gets sucked into the town’s ploy to use robotically modified women as a means of re-establishing the masculinity that was only ever demonstrated by other men anyway. He’s such a wet rag that he’s quite believable in this respect, but he and Kidman (who clearly scrubs up pretty well) fail to produce any electricity whatsoever between themselves and therefore one stares at the screen blankly whenever they’re having one of their domestic disputes or ascertaining that they really do love each other. Attempts to bring forward a potential moral to the story at the beginning (Kidman’s character is introduced ruining the life of a decent man in her efforts to liberate women) are lost or forgotten about as the story progresses, and the denouement confuses the message if there even ever was one. Bette Midler and Glenn Close also appear in major roles making this what could be defined as an ‘all-star cast’ - why does Hollywood bother? Frank Oz himself may have been the defining voice behind the omnipotent Yoda, as well as Fozzie flipping Bear but when it comes to live-action directing there are probably other better options out there, however he can’t be fully blamed for a screenplay and overall production intentions as lame as what’s on display here.

Dreamworks and Paramount reportedly contributed a total of 90 million dollars to this - 90 million dollars?? This at least results in a glossy movie from a technical standpoint, though I‘m guessing most of that went on the main cast‘s wages and catering bill. Review was conducted following the viewing of the Swedish DVD, featuring an expectedly clean and sharp image with high quality sound (in English - Swedish subtitles were removable), but there are better ways you can spend your time, hence I consider the period I’ve spent writing about this turd to be an act of altruism in my attempts to divert people’s attention to more pleasurable pastimes, like wiping one’s bum.

1946, US, Directed by Jean Yarbrough

Black & White, Running Time: 59 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Universal, Video: 1.33:1, Audio: Dolby Digital Mono

Despite the similarity of title this has nothing to do with Universal’s earlier and infinitely better film Werewolf of London, aside from perhaps the setting. It opens with a pair of detectives discussing a recent spate of alleged werewolf attacks on innocent strollers when they’re called out to another killing in the park. Meanwhile a love-smitten couple are riding horses around the same location discussing their marital future when the detectives arrive and are overheard discussing the deaths and possible nature of the perpetrator. Phyllis seems suspiciously perturbed by the discussion and her fiancée Barry promptly whisks her off back home. There is the hint of some sort of curse at the beginning of the story that appears to have afflicted Phyllis: after each night of mutilations in the park she wakes up with dirt and blood on her hands - is she transforming into a wolf and providing the papers with their sensationalist stories? She gradually becomes convinced she is and deteriorates mentally as the stability of her world collapses around her.

A glance at the running time will reveal that this was a quickie for Universal, something that dragged few ideas of worth out of its writers. In the cinemas (released on a double bill with The Cat Creeps back in 1946) this only just about qualified as a feature film, being barely an hour long, and with PAL speed-up (i.e. 25 frames per second) it doesn’t even reach that. The actors approach their scarce material with what may be a reasonable attitude but they can’t turn dung to gold and their efforts are ultimately wasted on what eventually reveals itself to be an almost entirely pointless exercise. What’s worse, without wishing to give anything away, is the fact that it cheats its intended audience and disrespects the genre that its masquerading under - the trailer and title suggests that it will be something that it’s not, probably grasping at the only attempt possible to sell this to an unsuspecting public. Pretending you have a product of a certain nature on your hands simply to get people through the doors is hardly commendable. However, it’s relatively easy to spot early on that this isn’t really a horror movie, but that just turns the film into a rather boring way to spend an hour. In its favour there are one or two nice shots of the mist-enshrouded woodland, with the visually unthreatening cloaked female wondering through. The conclusive explanation of what’s going on and why it’s going on lacks solid logic and once again insults its audience, therefore I cannot recommend this.

A sharp and detailed image is joined by clear audio on the DVD release, though there is an odd anomaly that occurs: at the beginning of many shots there is a very brief soft focus effect that only occurs for two or three frames but is noticeable nonetheless, and somewhat distracting. This is no great loss, however, because the viewer will invariably become cataleptically bored to molecular solidification by the experience of watching She-Wolf of London. Find something else that will have some sort of effect on you other than hypnotically induced slumber.

1998, US, Directed by Peter Berg

Colour, Running Time: 100 minutes

DVD, Region 1, Universal, Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: Dolby Digital 5.1

What’s this - a bunch of mainstream actors in a Hollywood film that contains brutal violence, boobs, and the blackest, nastiest streak of humour this side of Braindead? I seem to remember not many liking this film back in the late nineties, and in reflection of that it took years to materialise on DVD too. Contrary to popular opinion (as usual) I was one of the few that really enjoyed this film on its theatrical run so lets consider how it stands up to repeat viewings… It all starts off sort of like Swingers with a bunch of boys heading off to Vegas for a stag do, leaving their ladies behind to worry about what they’re going to get up to, or get off to. And debauchery it is: excess alcohol, cocaine, insane babbling, and the hottest prostitute Vegas has to offer. But you can almost feel something is going to go wrong as their behaviour leaves them increasingly open to unpredictable consequences, you just don’t realise how wrong it’s going to go! During violent sex at the hotel room the prostitute is accidentally impaled on a bathroom hook by Michael and the guys are left standing around, suddenly slightly more sober, staring at a corpse in a pool of blood. Then follows a dramatic conflict of interests: Adam immediately wants to dial 911, while Boyd reasons that they’d pretty much be hammered by the law given the nature of events that night, despite the actual death being an accident. While arguing about what to do a security guard knocks at the door in response to complaints of a little noise, and at first he’s appeased by some lad talk and a bit of cash but when he notices the body Boyd reacts to the situation and brutally stabs him before he has chance to talk. Now they have two bodies and no options but to get rid of them, so they arm themselves with spades and other useful items and head off into the desert after cutting up the bodies, cleaning up the hotel room, and packing the limbs, etc. into suitcases to get them out of the building. After the nocturnal burial they make a pact never to tell anybody, even (or particularly!) their respective women, before heading off back home to carry on their lives as normally as they possibly can. Alas it was never going to be that ‘easy’ and soon guilt is getting to one or two of them, tension increases, conflicts arise, and the situation begins spiralling even further out of control.

The premise focuses on friendship stretched to its ultimate limits while doused in the blackest comedy you could ever have imagined squirming from Hollywood imaginations: this is the Farrelly Brothers on Speed. It begins in light with a group of mates looking forward to the night out of a lifetime, one of them - Kyle - more so looking forward to marrying a well structured but erratic woman (Cameron Diaz), however their self control is lost somewhere in the mix and they begin their descent to Hell. Michael is distraught at causing the death of the prostitute and it’s only a matter of time before he goes off the rails, not helped by the fact that he’s almost constantly at odds with his brother Adam. Adam himself finds the guilt increasingly difficult to deal with while Boyd on the other hand is the one keeping a cool head and perpetually delineating possibilities through ordered reasoning devoid of morality. Through all of this the only thing Kyle is really interested in is marrying the woman who is almost certainly going to add to his personal hell one day, such is her blatant obsession with getting married for the sake of the wedding day itself rather than love. But nobody in this film gets what they want… nobody! By the film’s end even the dog has lost a leg, and however grim you thought things were going to get, it’s worse. What the film’s success depends on is whether it makes the viewer laugh, such is the duty of black comedy and I suppose this is where it might have failed for many, because the humour is niche. The fact that it finds humour in such nastiness could be considered bad taste but in an industry where bad taste has all but been eradicated by the easily offended it’s a welcome asset from my point of view. Plus Berg and the principal actors with their acute comic timing hit the mark for me, therefore what is potentially a disgusting experience becomes one of elation. Tension is not only maintained consistently but it escalates to madness, underlining Berg‘s adept handling of the material. Even better is the fact that it has the same effect even after having seen it a number of times, therefore it makes a good buy for the movie buff.

After waiting so long for a DVD the Universal disc didn’t exactly tick all the right boxes. The US disc featured both wide and fullscreen versions but extras were almost nonexistent. Transfer is okay but quite soft and possibly over-saturated although the 5.1 track (it defaults to two channel so make sure you switch) is enveloping and dynamic. Aside from average DVD presentation, Very Bad Things is almost the ultimate sit-back-with-a-few-beers movie and can suitably take your mind of whatever’s going wrong in your own life, because that’ll pale in comparison to what’s going wrong in the lives of these characters.

2002, US, Directed by Alexander Payne

Colour, Running Time: 120 minutes

Review Source: DVD, R2, EIV; Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: DTS

After a lifetime of working hard and leading a respectable, conventional routine we catch up with Warren Schmidt (Jack Nicholson) during the final minutes of his career as he sits there watching the clock count down towards his retirement. A nice big fuss is made with a dinner in his honour, speeches, etc., and Warren eventually wakes up on a new Monday morning not entirely sure what to do with his newfound freedom. A trip back to his old workplace paints a picture that suggests his purpose is served and his presence no longer welcome beyond surface gestures. His sympathy piqued by a television advert, Warren decides to sponsor the life of a third world child, Ndugu, in recognition of some deeper desire to do something worthwhile. In conjunction with this he also begins writing to the child to keep him up to date with what’s happening in his own life, this forming occasional parts of the story’s narrative. His optimistic wife Helen is looking forward to trying out their new motor home but a few weeks later she drops down dead and he’s left pretty much alone. After doing her bit following Helen’s death, their daughter Jeannie all but wants him out of the way until her wedding in a few weeks so when he sets off in his motor home to join up with her early a mid-trip phone call prompts her to emphasise the point that she doesn’t want him around until a couple of days before the wedding. So to kill time he embarks on a spontaneous road trip with the intention of revisiting places from his past, etc., seemingly on a quest to simultaneously eradicate boredom and find out what the point of his life was.

I often tend to warm to soul-searching kind of scenarios, ideas that force the central character(s) to explore their value to themselves and the world, the meaning of their existence (as well as that around them), who they are, etc. It’s something I can personally relate to and if the story is executed intuitively with talented people it can often result in a profound experience that goes beyond the fantastical confines of film. That’s what I found in About Schmidt. Despite being played by a very well known actor Warren Schmidt the person is thoroughly delineated to a point where he’s exceedingly real in many ways - his mind is visibly ticking away in response to many of the things that are happening around him and the script does not become so patronising as to have him verbalise every single thought. We can imagine what’s going on in his mind and very often empathise with it, or at least those with a tendency towards introspection and acute awareness may be able to. In fact it’s mostly in his spoken letters to Ndugu where we learn what’s going on inside his brain. The situations that he finds himself in often give way to a level of realism that is quietly embarrassing, such is their ability to tap into the nature of that which is fundamentally and contemporarily human, while at other times his encounters approach more of a traditional comedic style that’s not quite over the top enough to ruin it. It’s not, however, quite the straightforward comedy the marketing campaigners would have had you believe, more so a drama mixed with humour cum road movie - this sort of film almost creates its own cinematic category if one is even needed. What I also like is the air of unpredictability. What you very often expect to happen, given the experience of watching hundreds of movies before it, doesn’t - you may expect Warren to realise how much love is worth after his wife’s death, but then he finds out she’s had an affair years before and ends up throwing out her clothes in anger. Or you might expect him to find love in the divorced mother of Jeannie’s new husband, but it doesn’t quite work out like that. The people he comes across during his adventure are colourful and mundane at the same time and may in some cases remind you of some you know. It’s a truly meaningful story that’s ultimately about aging and the reflection of one’s own worth after a lifetime of doing what you’re supposed to, therefore becoming relevant to almost anybody and thus a significantly rewarding experience.

An amazing transfer that boasts a natural colour scheme with just about as much detail as standard definition can muster, combined with both DTS and Dolby Digital 5.1 soundtracks that, whilst not exploited to the full with this kind of material, do their subtle job very nicely. Extras are a tad limited but I like this kind of work to speak to the viewer for itself without the writers/directors/actors having to come along and explain it all for us. By the conclusion of the film, and as could be considered the case with real life, it’s really down the viewer to decide what the point of Schmidt’s existence was.