The Grim Cellar

1970, US, Directed by Ted Post

Colour, Running Time: 91 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Fox, Video: Anamorphic 2.35:1, Audio: Dolby Surround

After Taylor and Nova set off towards the Forbidden Zone at the end of Planet of the Apes they encounter a series of strange phenomenon in the desert that results in Taylor’s unexplained disappearance. Navigating the same interstellar trajectory as Taylor another astronaut called Brent crash lands on the planet and comes across the aimlessly wandering Nova. Realising that she knows Taylor (she keeps his NASA necklace) they set off in search of the lost man, instead finding Ape City where the militant gorilla Ursus is plotting an invasion of the Forbidden Zone due to several recent missing ape reports. Brent makes contact with Cornelius and Zira and they try to help him avoid capture so he can find Taylor and figure out a way of escaping from the hostile world. After being temporarily captured he and Nova get away into the Forbidden Zone where they find a subterranean domain, Brent here learning the truth about the planet’s history and precisely why the area is referred to in such a deterring fashion. But there’s exposure to even greater danger in the underground tunnels though this time not from the apes, who have themselves already organised a huge army that marches into the area. The smell of a battle is in the air…

There is the feel of classic science fiction that pervades the original movie, something that’s partly lost here due to several avoidable flaws. James Franciscus makes a good lead as Brent - a reasonable replacement for Charlton Heston who only appears for a few minutes - and Linda Harrison’s Nova is quite stunning to look at (she’s not really heard, though does get to utter her first and only word in this film). Development of the Zaius character loses its way with an inconsistent continuation of his onscreen presence between the first two chapters - whereas he was despotic, overwhelmingly fearful that humanity would once again threaten ape, and willing to sacrifice anything for the good of the species, he is now reduced to merely supporting the destructive drive of Ursus in an almost passive manner. It seems that Ted Post knows how to compose an attractive image, making valuable use of the 2.39:1 ratio throughout, but he fails to grasp simian behaviour in the context of cinema, with some of the onscreen ape acting being quite amateurish in comparison to Franklin Schaffner’s original. It doesn’t help that Roddy McDowall couldn’t make it for Beneath… (his only absence in the whole film and TV series), his role being temporarily adopted by a poor David Watson (who?), though admittedly this man looks awkwardly cast throughout. McDowall studied chimp movement prior to the filming of the original movie and out of all the ape actors he is the most consistently convincing, plus physically distinctive and socially likeable. Watson by contrast is clumsy and skips across the room as if taking part in some sort of psychedelic pantomime. I love the Ursus character, a powerful warmonger who aptly leads a huge army into the Forbidden Zone with the sole intention of destruction - he predates Urko, the principal antagonist from the TV series, and is clothed similarly. Leonard Rosenman replaced Jerry Goldsmith as the composer and his contribution is not quite in the same class, though remains functional - Goldsmith would return to work on Escape… whilst Rosenman would return for the final film, Battle for the Planet of the Apes. Something that really becomes problematic also is the excessive use of masks for background apes - while the principal simian actors wore prosthetics that hold up exceptionally well considering the era, many of the lesser characters were reduced to wearing masks that were often very badly designed; god-awful in some cases. What this film does do is add to the Apes mythos in a number of ways and it’s worth noting that despite being the second outing, Beneath… is really the last in the series from a chronological point of view, each subsequent movie taking place in a time before. The race of mutant survivors that live below the surface provide a threat not just to the human visitors, but to the apes and every living thing on the planet, worshipping as they do a relic that happens to be an operational atomic bomb. It seems there is an underlying commentary on religion here: the apes claim that God made them in his own image while the mutants believe that the bomb is some sort of divine being, or representative of such. Looking at the contradictory comparisons that occur when dissecting religions that exist globally today the film’s ideas seem to be a reflection of the misinterpretations that can be made when attempting to understand our creation/formation/origins, and how people will devote themselves to such misinterpretations with no accurate and well-founded idea who, if anybody, is right. Of course I’m not claiming that there is no god (nobody has such a right given the limitations of our own understanding and perception), but the variations evident between religions indicate that somebody has to be wrong at the very least (i.e. everybody can‘t be right), and those very people are adamant that they’re right just like most of the population strangely, atheists included. Providing a few moments of tension, some interesting philosophical ideas amongst the muddle, and one of the greatest endings in cinema, Beneath the Planet of the Apes is alas not the upgrade it could have been and limitations are apparent that let it down periodically.

Having seen this for years on television and 4:3 VHS the DVD was a visual revelation, boasting a colourful and moderately detailed widescreen image that lends an epic ambience to the proceedings. Of course the transfer is a little soft, perhaps a side effect of the film’s production date but it will be intriguing to see what Blu-ray can offer a movie like this (aside from emphasising just how much of a train wreck those background masks are). Stereo audio is serviceable and extras are restricted to a few trailers and stills, though the boxed set does contain a two hour documentary as an excellent supplement.

2008, US, Directed by Louis Leterrier

Colour, Running Time: 114 minutes

Cinema screening, Image: 2.39:1 Anamorphic Panavision, Audio: English language

Pretty much everybody on the planet was disappointed with Ang Lee’s interpretation of Hulk, including me, so with some trepidation I approached my local Cineworld to see if the inexperienced Parisian Louis Leterrier could repair the damage done to Marvel’s famous green monster. While this movie does pretty much ignore Lee’s film it refrains from a full blown recreation of the character’s origin, opting for a brief summary during the opening credits and getting things moving pretty quickly as a result. An experiment with gamma radiation goes hopelessly wrong leaving Bruce Banner to experience periodic physical mutation into a monster, after which the gifted scientist is forced to take refuge from the military in a hopelessly overcrowded Brazilian town. Avoiding detection by having abandoned anything that can be traced to him Banner uses an online alter ego to retain contact with another (anonymous) scientist who may be able to help cure him. After months without incident his position is discovered by General Ross, a man who in reality wants Banner under military detention due to his altered genetic structure holding the key to breeding a race of super-soldiers. During the chase Banner is transformed into Hulk, a phenomenon witnessed by Blonsky, one of the men Ross has hired to help capture the beast. Blonsky develops some sort of perverse bloodlust and in attempts to equal or exceed Hulk’s astronomical physical power he has himself injected with serum created from Banner’s modified blood cells, mutating him into some sort of… abomination.

The Incredible Hulk seems to have taken a couple of leafs out of the Batman Begins book, taking time to establish a credible lead character in the form of Bruce Banner (Edward Norton) as he isolates himself in a foreign land while seeking some sort of profound personal improvement, in this case a cure. Banner is aware that Ross has purely military interests in mind with the reacquisition of what he feels is his ‘property’, and this intensifies the drama of the chase: Ross almost comes across as a person evil to the bone and easily dislikeable, this being a nice narrative tool for involving the audience . Of course the matter is complicated further by the fact that Banner and Ross’s daughter are in love with each other. It’s really Norton himself who manages to elicit the largest portion of emotional response in the audience, creating a human being at odds with his own destiny who experiences almost constant inner turmoil due to his sicknesses - the genetic transmogrification that leads to the arrival of the monster, and the love for Betty Ross that can’t be satisfied.

What I find a little surprising with this film is that it pays homage not just to the comic books, but to an extent to the television series also. From a Marvel fan’s perspective the Incredible Hulk TV show was hardly a faithful adaptation - it changed the name of the character to David (because Bruce at the time sounded a little too gay), altered the catalyst from an atomic explosion to genetic laboratory experiments gone wrong (the latter being particularly sensible and realistic considering the period), omitted super villains almost entirely, etc. In fact it took one or two core elements of the comic book and that was about it, but in the process it created something quite unique, adult-like, and sombre in many ways despite having accrued the unwanted attentions of various critical comedians and other self-proclaimed funny people in recent years. During the opening of Leterrier’s film Banner’s experiments resemble what happened in the TV show’s pilot episode surprisingly closely. Elsewhere Lou Ferrigno (looking amazing for his age) has another cameo as a security man, and there’s one or two in-jokes such as a budding journalist called Jack McGee, a brilliant twist on the “you won‘t like me when I‘m angry” phrase originally uttered by Bill Bixby (R.I.P.), and even a snippet of the show‘s closing credit music! The screenwriters were obviously familiar with the TV show and possibly fans of it, so the fact that they have incorporated a small number of aspects into this movie is quite heart warming to older fans such as myself. There are a number of very exciting set-pieces along the way, particularly the battle between Hulk and Tim Roth’s Abomination - explosive, utterly destructive, and cinematically thrilling (aptly supported by a strong score courtesy of Craig Armstrong, a departure from his usual outings). Aside from one sickly love scene in a cave the drama and action are balanced especially well establishing excellent pacing and I rarely felt an ounce of boredom. Despite Leterrier’s lack of directorial experience this is a way better film than Ang Lee’s, and justice is done to one of Marvel’s better known and immortal characters. The small epilogue also announces in a rather cool and enticing fashion that the amalgamation between Marvel and cinema has arrived well and truly.

1993, US, Directed by Jack Sholder

Colour, Running Time: 94 minutes

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

Groundhog Day was a successful film in its era and has since acquired a cult fan base, being a film that managed to dig a little deeper than the average product of mainstream film-making. What some people weren’t aware of at the time was that there was a very similarly themed movie produced in the same year by New Line, the story adopting the identical core concept of someone waking up repeatedly to exactly the same day. Barry Thomas works in the personnel department of technology giant Utrel, persecuted by lady boss Jackson on a daily basis and trapped in a mundane job. The only thing that brightens up his ennui is Lisa Fredericks, one of the scientists he sees mostly from a distance and someone who is unlikely ever to have the time for such a lowlife office worker (damn lowlifes…), while his buddy Howard is constantly offering advice and playing practical jokes at the most inappropriate of times. At the end of an especially disheartening day Barry and Howard are outside the building when they witness Lisa being shot in a drive-by, seemingly targeted specifically but for reasons unknown. Acknowledging that the day is pretty much as bad as it can get Barry and Howard spend the rest of the evening downing alcohol. But before he beds down for the night Barry is trying to fix a broken lamp wire when he receives an electric shock, and the next thing he knows he’s waking up again at 7.35am. Initially going about his business as usual he’s somewhat confused by various uncanny similarities to the previous day but as events unfold Barry eventually realises that an illegal experiment with a particle accelerator at Utrel has resulted in time itself repeatedly bouncing back upon reaching 12:01 (the time of experiment) to the beginning of the day. Somehow the electric shock he received at that very moment has separated him from the loop and it’s clear that he must try to prevent the test taking place in order to restore time to its original state whilst ensuring that Lisa is saved from the assassination that is in some way linked to everything.

The obvious difference between this and the aforementioned Bill Murray film is the fact that this one explains why time is repeating, whereas in Groundhog Day the recurrence was inexplicable, possibly divine. This essentially places each film into a different genre: one in fantasy, the other in science fiction. Both stories introduce a love interest for the protagonist, someone who is virtually unattainable for whatever reason but must be won over regardless, and in each case this forms the primary narrative driving force throughout, though in 12:01 he must also stop the experiment or his efforts will forever be in vain. Jonathon Silverman (as Barry) is no Bill Murray but he’s charismatic and his comic timing tends to be fairly sharp, a likeable man who helps the viewer to identify with the situation and character’s struggle. He successfully injects small doses of humour along the way that ramp up the entertainment factor of the film, this definitely aided by the presence of Jeremy Piven as his joker mate Howard (strangely revealed to be a withering coward later on in the film). A pre-Ed Wood Martin Landau appears as a scientist obsessed with his work while Helen Slater is Barry’s love interest. Slater was just outside of her prime here but still makes an attractive lead lady, plus she’s in possession of reasonable thespian abilities too. The wardrobe department should have taken some medication, however, dressing her in one ugly looking, old-fashioned costume that she would have to wear throughout the entire film thanks to the nature of its theme. There are lots of little things happening repeatedly that Barry gets to interfere with to amusing effect such as Jackson’s threats (seemingly covering up some sort of complex), or Howard’s trick floppy disc that catches Barry out on the first day but never again. The bad guys are stereotypes that could have been lifted from any episode of a TV cop show but they were never going to be anything more than background puppets anyway, plus the conclusion is slightly predictable and cushy. There’s something very appealing about the concept behind this movie and its bigger cinematic brother - essentially the idea itself stems back to the writings of philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche and the fantasy almost arouses a feeling that there are no longer any consequences. We can do as we wish and everything will be restored to normality the following morning, but clearly for the principal characters in both films this novelty wears thin (something better explored in the Harold Ramis flick) and a craving for unpredictability is reinstated by each respective conclusion, this verbally outlined by Barry at the end of 12:01. This is really a low-key film that rises above the average TV excursion.

This has never been widely distributed on home video. Here in England I’ve owned the fullscreen rental tape for years and watched it quite a few times. At last Image have offered us a DVD version and the transfer is easy on the eye, something that stems no doubt from the movie’s celluloid origins (despite being made for TV/video, it has a professional theatrical look throughout). Sound comes in its original stereo format as well as a marginally upgraded 5.1 mix, plus there is surprisingly a commentary from the director. Worth checking out.

Neil Marshall has seemed like a director who might hold the key to a great future for British genre movies since his feature debut (Dog Soldiers) so seeing the pretty exciting trailer for his new futuristic action movie was enough to entice me to visit my local Cineworld for the first time in a couple of months and check out what he‘s been up to since the much respected The Descent. In the near future the outbreak of a devastating virus causes mass chaos in Scotland and, unable to contain it, the authorities are forced to quarantine the entire country with a rapidly erected impenetrable barrier across the site of the old Roman wall. Cure proving to be unavailable the inhabitants of the northern land are left to die or destroyed attempting to escape, though one young girl - Eden Sinclair - is placed with soldiers by her desperate mother and airlifted from the wasteland as it descends into near self-destruction. Eden grows into a talented soldier and rises through the ranks after Scotland has long since been forgotten about but as the rest of Britain succumbs to widespread unemployment while its economy disintegrates (hold on, we are talking about the future here aren’t we?) the virus that afflicted Scotland reappears in London; death and panic once more become a serious problem. The government reveal to the military that they’ve discovered people surviving in Scotland years after everybody was thought dead, this having been revealed by photographs taken with satellite technology. Eden is deployed with a team of scientists/soldiers plus a couple of tanks, their mission to infiltrate Glasgow with the initial intention of finding out how the Scots have survived the virus and bring back the cure that they believe may have been developed by an eminent scientist who operated in the area. What they find is a society that has reverted to tribal mechanics operating through brutality and primordial instinct, creating an aggressive world through which the team must accomplish their mission to save the rest of Britain.

What’s immediately apparent with Doomsday is the fact that it will pull no punches when it comes to violence and bloodshed; the opening sequence is almost like something extracted from the middle of 28 Weeks Later, asserting a trend for the rest of the film. Rhona Mitra (as Eden) is an attractive and competent lead but difficult to accept as an army major somehow, feebly shouting out orders that a rookie would be hard pressed to bother following. While Malcolm McDowell iterates a strong opening narrative during the early scenes, when we finally meet him in the flesh it’s clear that his overly melodramatic approach isn’t quite so convincing, and compounds something that becomes apparent as the film unfolds: Neil Marshall’s dialogue just isn’t very good. The action sequences themselves are quite rousing and controlled well by the director but what first appears to be a dark apocalyptic action movie begins spiralling towards a comic book style reminiscent of Transformers or a James Bond film. Now there’s not much wrong with James Bond films but Doomsday seems to be masquerading as something more with its heavy-handed political commentary and extreme violence. After Eden and co. discover an unused Bentley underground the resulting car chase seriously made me begin to think this was some sort of prolonged advertisement for the vehicle, such is the super stylish method with which the sequence was shot - you could have taken a clip from this and easily used it in a commercial break during American Idol or something. Credibility was pretty much shot down the toilet when they discover a clan of people living in a castle, adopting the use of medieval gear and everything, and by this point I’d all but given up - it appears to me that Marshall has fallen into the trap of being ‘cool’ for the sake of it, something that rarely works with anyone with both an age and IQ over 25. Reading some comments from Marshall on the internet after watching the film I realise that he intended this to be a homage in some respects (it can’t help but remind the viewer of things like Escape From New York, No Escape, Mad Max, et al.) so perhaps the abundant clichés (people able to outrun motor vehicles, unarmed women able to defeat heavily armoured warriors, stereotype psychotic bad guys, etc.) shouldn’t be as painful as I found them and perhaps I approached this film with the wrong expectations, but the end result was not satisfactory.

I really wanted to like whatever Neil Marshall produced and I may well be guilty of approaching this piece in the wrong frame of mind but if you’re expecting a dark apocalyptic tale you may end up cringing with embarrassment on occasions - I don‘t think it was unfair to expect this either considering the pretty horrific and disturbing nature of the prologue! On the other hand, as the homage it may have been intended to be, it seems a tad pointless to me at the moment.

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.

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.

1967, Canada, Directed by David Cronenberg

Black & White, Running Time: 63 minutes

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

It’s generally considered that Cronenberg tends to wander between moderately commercial products (e.g. History of Violence, Dead Zone) and less commercial, more personal outings (e.g. Crash, Dead Ringers), sometimes blurring the boundaries as bigger names such as Ralph Fiennes become attached to ideas that would otherwise leave the general public completely cold, such as Spider. To really put his less commercial outings into perspective, however, one only need take a look at his very early work and the likes of Rabid and Naked Lunch suddenly become comparatively more approachable. Going way back to the late sixties we find that Stereo is undoubtedly a unique experience but not necessarily an enjoyable one: opening with a shot over two large hostile-looking stone buildings a helicopter drifts into view before letting off someone who oddly dresses himself almost as if he is a wizard. As the strange man attempts to find a way into the inaccessible structures a narrator articulately tells us about an experiment taking place within, something designed to investigate telepathic powers in a selected group of willing participants. Inside, the volunteers (all dressed in tights) wander the corridors occasionally interacting with each other, physically as well as on a telepathic level presumably, if the words of the narrator are anything to go by. Gradually they lose touch with the reality outside the premises that we never truly see.

The camerawork is quite engaging, adopting a personal perspective on many occasions as we wander through the barren corridors with the completely odd inhabitants of the institute. Use of slow motion, while quite clichéd in the likes of action movies, etc., is highly perceptive on Cronenberg’s part here and indicative of the talent that was later to embed itself into cinema history forever. The film plays almost silent - there are no sound effects and there is no music. The only things we ever hear are the voices of varying narrators explaining the intricate details of the scientific studies taking place in telepathic communication. The dialogue here is excessively intellectual but, while initially it may occur to the viewer that this is pretentiousness for the sake of ego, the relentless nature of the suffocating and informed depth of the words ultimately results in the appearance of authenticity, facilitating belief in the subject matter - this latter aspect comes about for the simple reason that it’s hard to imagine a subject being treated with such academic intelligence if there is absolutely no foundation in truth. There are some interesting points made amongst the concentration-stretching passages, for example the gradual introduction of the sexual relations between volunteers combined with the suggestion that such relations facilitate the telepathic connection brings to my mind the possibility that cerebral evolutionary development (which the narrators indicate is the consequential factor of man’s continued existence) is something designed purely to improve the reproductive chances of affected organisms, and therefore the genes within. Listening to this film is really as close as I can imagine to reading a textbook in parapsychology, the problem being that there are few such books that can be any fun to scour through and the film therefore becomes an extremely arduous task to sit through. That’s not to say there’s anything bad about Cronenberg’s debut, but the balance between scientific, philosophical detail and cinematic approachability that the director would later achieve is clearly a long way off being established here.

Blue Underground present Stereo looking superb considering its mega-low budget origins and age - there are celluloid flaws that are unlikely ever to be eliminated from the source. A pillarboxed 1.66:1 ratio takes advantage of anamorphic enhancement for a small but appreciated boost in resolution while audio is well represented, though it only has voices and silence to contend with - this is one instance where any kind of surround track would truly be a waste of bit space. What would have been very welcome is a commentary from the director, if only to decipher some of the film’s occurrences while explaining some of the thought processes involving in realising such a cinematic oddity, but perhaps having things left to our own personal delineation can prove to be a challenging experience (and therefore a deterrent for the majority no doubt). Considering the fact that this is included in a package with Fast Company and Crimes of the Future, this is a superb buy.

1986, US, Directed by Stuart Gordon

Colour, Running Time: 86 minutes

DVD, Region 1, MGM, Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: Dolby Digital 4.0

Hot on the success of the gruesomely manic Re-Animator many of the same crew gathered for another shot at Lovecraftian terror a year later… Dr Pretorius and his assistant, Crawford Tillinghast (great name!), are conducting experiments in a mansion whereby they’ve discovered that stimulation of the brain’s pineal gland allows them to perceive the inhabitants of a parallel dimension, while the creation of certain atmospheric vibrations likewise permits those alien inhabitants to see and interact with humans. One such creature devours Pretorius leaving Tillinghast babbling like a madman and quickly locked up in an asylum. A female psychiatrist, Dr Katherine McMichaels, is sent to assess his mental state but soon finds herself believing his story, intrigued by his tales of tapping into what they empirically assume to be a dormant sixth sense. She decides to take the patient into her care and McMichaels, Tillinghast, and security man Bubba head back to the mansion in order to resume experimentation with the equipment that Tillinghast attempted to be shut down before being taken away. Switching on they witness the strange fishlike creatures that drift through the air, soon realising the danger of physical harm thanks to the machine’s vibrations, but not only that: Pretoruis has survived death to exist in the astral dimension, now monstrously mutated and quite insane. They also find that the stimulation of the pineal gland is having other side effects, such as enhanced libido and sexual behaviour that they wouldn’t normally accommodate. As Tillinghast and McMichaels become more and more enslaved by their addiction to the combined effects of enhanced dimensional awareness and primordial awakening, Bubba tries to pull the plug. But Tillinghast has become mutated himself by one of the creature attacks, developing a third eye that sticks out of his forehead and going on the rampage at the nearby hospital.

Utilising some of the same actors as in Re-Animator director/producer team (Stuart Gordon and Brian Yuzna respectively) create a nice feeling of continuity, but the results are not quite as successful. The script is not as exciting, though there are plenty of thought-provoking ideas in there, the black humour of the former film barely present, the action less well paced, and the music by Charles Band’s brother Richard illustrates the man’s lack of innate talent - the excellent work on the music for Re-Animator was, after all, derivative of the superb Psycho soundtrack (though at least he admitted paying homage there). The cinematography is daring in places, with the screen adopting a rich array of primary colours to reflect the switch in perception of the characters. It’s nice to see some familiar faces from the previous film too - Jeffrey Combs is another slightly nutty scientist here (Tillinghast) and he’s always a joy to witness in thespian action, his character moving into almost Brain Damage territory as he develops the prehensile eye protruding from his forehead, a tool to survey the parallel realm in all its video graphic glory. Ken Foree, needing no introduction, plays the security guy who doesn’t have too much to do except keep rein over things as control is gradually lost. Gorgeous Barbara Crampton also appears as the nifty psychiatrist who believes Tillinghast’s tale of madness, later allowing her repressed sexually adventurous nature to express itself in the form of adopting a mild but fetching S&M routine as her pineal gland is stimulated into dominant activity by the resonator device. It’s the ideas behind the project that are most intriguing, the stimulation of a relatively dormant gland to permit access to a latent sixth sense being the primary concept that underpins everything that happens. I suppose it has to be admitted that the components of this film add up to more than the final outcome but it’s an enticing ride nonetheless.

MGM pulled out the stops with their recent special edition, including a director commentary along with several featurettes as well as producing a transfer that must be classed as definitive for this film - one of the best looking eighties horrors I’ve yet seen on DVD. Detail helps immerse the viewer in the oddball world and colours seem to be as accurate as one can imagine. Previously I’d only seen this on videotape so visually (and aurally thanks to a decent four channel surround track) it was quite a revelation, certainly helping the viewer appreciate this piece more than was previously really possible. Not only that but this is the unrated version containing some excerpts of bloodiness that you may not have seen before. An adequate reminder to look forward to Gordon’s upcoming nasty flick, Stuck, which sounds pretty exciting - it‘s about some woman who ploughs her car into a vagrant, sending his body through the windscreen. Instead of doing the obvious and calling for an ambulance she ends up driving home and leaving the car in her garage with the bloody body embedded in the glass, left for dead but not quite. Partly based on a true story apparently - hey, this could only happen in America!

1956, US, Directed by Fred M Wilcox

Colour, Running Time: 94 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Warner, Video: Anamorphic 2.40:1, Audio: DD5.1

Drifting through space in a saucer-style starship a team of astronauts land on what was once a colonized planet, the purpose being, they believe, to rescue survivors. They discover the small population has been devastated by a plague and all that remains are Dr Morbius and his fetching daughter, Altaira, who seem to be living peacefully and self-sufficiently with their multifunctional robot, Robby. Not completely accommodating and without any desire to be ‘rescued’, Dr Morbius is eager to have them on their way but Commander Adams stubbornly decides to stay for a while so they can get down to investigating what happened to the plague victims and whether there was any malpractice involved on the part of Morbius. The scientist is enthusiastic about putting the commander’s mind at rest by showing him and some colleagues around the complex, something that was actually constructed by intellectually superior aliens millennia before. What really concerns the Adams is a device that Morbius demonstrates to them, something that taps into the potential of organic intelligence revealing a power that may be difficult or impossible for mere humans to control. These concerns that all is not right are proven true when their ship is attacked during the night by an unseen presence and they quickly realise that there is a malevolent force at work that none of them fully understand.

Possibly not quite as wonderful as its cult reputation might suggest, Forbidden Planet is nevertheless ahead of its time in some respects. The special effects are particularly noteworthy, holding up quite nicely even in today’s era of computer generated images. Landscapes and scenery are striking as well as epic and some of the compositing can be convincing even nowadays; for example, the shots of the monolithic alien structural interiors where several people are walking along a platform are brilliantly executed. The cinemascope visuals are something that fix themselves in the mind with attractive colour schemes and a lovely 2.40:1 aspect ratio, something that almost always suits future-bound science fiction. Another area where the film excels is in its innovative soundtrack. Not really music as such, this is a very surreal electronic score that roots the film firmly in its own unique universe, thereby successfully creating an otherworldly feel that’s still distinctive today. Hardly contemporary in their beliefs the musician’s union of the time complained about the style of the soundtrack and prevented the creators being referred to as composers, hence their credits are listed under ‘electronic tonalities’ - talk about political… Most of the starship crew are cardboard cut-outs really, consisting of far too many background people with non-existent personalities, though even the principle crew members (including pre-spoof Leslie Nielson as Adams) are stereotypes and hard to take seriously nowadays. A particularly funny characteristic is exhibited every time something remotely inexplicable happens when they all suddenly reach for their laser guns - they’re a very jumpy bunch. There’s also some strange morals at work here: Adams gives one of his crew a good ticking off for getting a bit too romantically entangled with Morbius’s youthful and naïve daughter and then proceeds to cop off with her himself! Perhaps the right to mate here is asserted by the acquisition of a position in authority. Probably a contributory factor to the film’s status of commendation is the origin of the ‘creature’ that threatens them, this being highly unusual and a concept that’s not been over-used throughout the years, exploring as it does the tangible manifestation of the id (derived from Freud’s theories). Forbidden Planet tends to err towards emphasis on script and dialogue through much of its running time but this illustrates to me the fact that the technical accomplishments were merely there to embellish a good story rather than taking centre stage as they so often do nowadays. While not as exciting as its reputation suggests it might be (this not being helped by the rather leisurely direction of Wilcox), it’s certainly something with plentiful strengths and a standout fifties science fiction movie.

Properly remastered for its anniversary re-release this looks slick on DVD, though it’s softer than modern day flicks this is understandable considering the age. Paying respect to the only way it should be seen, Warner have replicated the correct ratio giving us great CinemaScope images to gaze upon - a must for such a piece. A 5.1 track has been mixed but most of the sound is rooted to the front speakers, the mix simply acting to expand the mono soundstage without betraying the source too much. Extras are very generous with one complete movie - The Invisible Boy, connection here being drawn to the fact that it also featured Robby The Robot. Another Robby fiction piece is included in an episode of The Thin Man. As well as some deleted footage, there are several documentaries looking at science fiction from the fifties, Robby, and the main film itself rounding out a great 2-disc package. The movie was actually mastered in High Definition and stateside we saw a HD-DVD taken from the same source but giving us a jump in picture quality. While I like the film I don’t love it enough to shell out for a high definition version (at least not at the moment) so I opted for good old standard definition, which looks pretty nice even projected onto a large screen. Whether you get the HD-DVD, the super duper HD collector’s set, or just the 2 disc DVD, treatment like this can’t be complained about.

1982, US, Directed by Allan Holzman

Colour, Running Time: 75 minutes

VHS, PAL, Embassy, Video: 1.33:1, Audio: Stereo

Awakened from hyper-sleep by his artificially intelligent robot pilot, interstellar astronaut Mike Colby is diverted (following a brief Star Wars-inspired space battle with some token alien fodder and around 1% of George’s lunch budget) to a barren planet where a group of human scientists have set up bunkers to freely and ‘safely’ conduct experiments in genetic modification. They’ve requested his help to quarantine one of these experiments, where a fused life form is mutating out of control. What they actually fused it with they’re reluctant to say and Colby is hardly willing to comply with their wishes to contain the problem rather than simply destroy it, because in his eyes it is inexplicable and evidently dangerous. His first sight of the creature is in the laboratory where it has placed itself in an incubation unit while it gestates inside a cocoon. It’s not long before one of the overly curious assistants is placing his head right underneath it when he notices that it’s moving and, as sure as pigeons crap on your head, it’s breaking out of its shell and causing a permanent indentation on his face. Next thing the inhabitants know, the blob-like monster is on the loose in the complex and in between bouts of making love to the only two female occupants Colby has a bloody battle on his hands.

Crossing Alien with The Thing From Another World (we can’t really accuse it of ripping off John Carpenter’s remake as they were made pretty much simultaneously), this Roger Corman orchestrated sci-fi monster movie is not far from the bottom of the scale when it comes to production values, evident from the dated optical laser effects that are abundantly adorning the screen. Conversely prosthetics are extremely good and gruesome enough to make the squeamish cringe on the odd occasion. The creature in its fully grown form is a little too inanimate to cause much tension and things kind of fall flat at these points, on the other hand acting is competent and dialogue is surprisingly scientifically adequate, almost as if it’s been written by someone who was studying for a Biology A Level and quite convincing in its explanatory passages (delivered courtesy of the obligatory crazy scientist). There’s a bit of sex and nudity to keep the pace going (Colby is one lucky space traveller, let me tell you) and, later on in the movie, one of the primary characters is killed off to surprisingly emotive effect. There are a couple of humorous moments, such as when the two lady scientists are conducting an important strategic alien-capture discussion… while showering butt-naked and kindly washing each other down. Mention must be made of the music too: while it has obviously been produced on a shoestring there are occasions when it contributes to the onscreen action, the love making theme (used a couple of times throughout) being a particularly groovy highlight. This was editor Holzman’s directorial debut and there weren’t many to follow, but it’s not a complete waste of time and offers some enjoyment amidst its inherent limitations.

The Embassy video cassette was released in the early days following the introduction of the Video Recordings Act, something which was to spell both doom and delight for film collectors in varying measures - the former obviously because it forced films to have to be re-censored (sorry, ‘classified’) for video, for years causing things to be heavily cut even if they had already been chopped for cinema release, the latter because it later helped create a subculture of people who crept around film fairs looking for odd pre-VRA tapes that had missed the renewed wrath of the BBFC, for example the (genuine) ‘extreme’ version of Zombie Flesh Eaters. The VRA wasn’t good news but most people didn’t notice at the time (apart from the few ridiculously prosecuted under the new rules - muggers get lighter sentences these days), or didn’t care, and of course film censorship is of little concern in this day and age, though I notice New York Ripper has been one of the few flicks in recent times to be snipped by our beloved censors but did anyone really expect otherwise for Lucio’s Giallo/gore semi-classic? Looking at one or two shots in Forbidden World it seems to me like this tape might have been cut but I can find little evidence to support that idea - certainly the visceral stomach operation scene seems like it could be intact and that’s probably the strongest bit of the movie. It was released on good old Laserdisc many aeons ago but on DVD it has arrived only in Germany (as Mutant) to my knowledge, courtesy of Anolis Entertainment. That disc is, like this cassette, fullscreen but there is the rather cool extra of the entire music track accessible separately, a nice bonus considering the music adds quite a lot to the enjoyment of the film.

1980, Italy, Directed by Ciro Ippolito

Colour, Running Time: 92 minutes

VHS, PAL, VTC, Video: 1.66:1 (and 1.33:1), Audio: Mono

A young girl goes wandering across the beach during a family holiday and foolishly attempts to satisfy piqued curiosity upon discovering some kind of pulsating ‘blob’. A short while later, after heading off to look for her, the mother is somewhat distraught to find the daughter whimpering with half of her face missing. Elsewhere a party of initially intrepid cave explorers is preparing for a mission to descend into a vast array of dangerous underground caverns when one of their number discovers a scattering of unusual rocks - he decides to keep one of them. Once beneath ground, and separated from the rest of mankind, not only do they become hopelessly lost but it’s not long before the rock turns out to be something of extraterrestrial origin and people start disappearing as they realise that there’s something inhuman down there with them, something decidedly alien, hostile, and unsympathetic towards human survival.

Long before The Descent there was Alien Terror. Okay, they’re not identical twins (and fans of the former may consider the latter to simply be low budget trash) but neither are they a million miles apart. The original Italian title (Alien 2 Sulla Terra) would suggest a sly attempt to cash in on Alien. Plot is as straightforward as it gets: group of people explore caves and die one by one at the hands of an unearthly terror. Therein partly lies the problem - much of the first hour fundamentally focuses on the party endlessly meandering the admittedly striking caverns (these are no sets!) and it can drag a little. If you’re in the right mood it does have a fair amount of atmosphere (the quirky but typically Italian score sometimes adding to this) and there have been occasions when I’ve enjoyed this slow moving film. Aside from a fun appearance by the omnipresent Michele Soavi, there are a number of pretty bloody deaths punctuating the endless searching of underground passages but one thing that the film-makers seemed to have tapped into is the potential claustrophobic terror of being lost in a subterranean world, monstrous being in pursuit or no monstrous being in pursuit - when they realise they’re hopelessly lost there is a creeping feeling of genuine fear that the viewer can possibly identify with on a pure instinctive level (and surely that’s where fear itself largely has its roots?), even after never having been lost beneath the earth‘s surface for oneself! Where the boredom is really put to sleep, however, is when one of the characters finally manages to break free, only to find a deserted city above ground suggesting that the extraterrestrial threat has infiltrated Earth on a much more catastrophic level. It’s quite potent and almost epic, but the film unfortunately fails to take it much further, this perhaps being a remnant of films such as Zombi 2, where the world is on the verge of the apocalypse just before the end credits interrupt. Nevertheless, it prevents Alien Terror being simply consignable to the dustbin.

Seems like an almost lost film in the digital age. I picked this up years ago on the old VTC cassette - once available separately, it’s smartly paired up here with the classic (depending on your view…) Nightmare City, making a cool double bill. It’s a large and chunky video box with OTT artwork emblazoned across the cover, and something I don’t particularly want to get rid of for the sheer thrill of owning something pretty rare. In addition, for the VHS format, both films actually look surprisingly clean and detailed, especially considering this tape is a quarter of a century old. While NC is definitely censored, AT is possibly uncut (though I can‘t be certain). One strange thing about the aspect ratio on AT: there is stock footage used throughout the earlier half of the film, kind of in the fashion of Ed Wood Jnr., but while the movie itself is letterboxed at about 1.66:1, the stock material is pillarboxed fullscreen - this strikes me as quite odd. Anyway, while the film can be quite boring it does have its merits and the VTC cassette is nice to own, particularly when AT can’t be found on DVD.

1980, USA, Directed by Steve Barkett

Colour, Running Time: 92 minutes

VHS, PAL, Trans-Global, Video: 1.33:1, Audio: Mono

Returning from a shuttle mission two astronauts find the civilised world a devastated ruin - while they were away a nuclear war kicked off and all but destroyed mankind (NASA obviously neglecting to mention it to them). All that apparently remains of thinking organisms are small pockets of now mindless mutations who will feed on anything still alive. Newman and Chris find a deserted house and temporarily try to continue as normal for a while before Newman decides to head off out in the hope of finding others; he gets more than he bargained for in the shape of Cutter and a group of militaristic (but amateur) assassins who are intent on claiming what’s left of Earth for themselves through a regime of brute force and rape. Momentarily finding sanity, Newman picks up a kid from a dying museum curator and later meets a wandering female, Sarah, who’s managed to escape Cutter’s love-hungry clutches. Telling Newman about Cutter’s campaign of tyranny he learns about a friend of Sarah’s still trapped in a prison camp run by the madman and decides to help break the woman free. Thus ensues a battle for supremacy and revenge between survivors who want peace and those who prefer dictatorship and violence.

Superbore Steve Barkett does almost everything here including writing, producing, directing, and starring in this exceedingly ambitious film, but you can only stretch a budget of seven dollars so far before it starts to show. The razed city landscapes look like they were knocked up on Blue Peter and some interiors consist of a couple of foreground items against a black background, the production unit probably hoping that darkness would conceal the fact that they could only afford about four props. Some of the early mutants actually look quite good (though they’re only seen during a nocturnal attack) but the few that turn up in daylight look like school play rejects. Barkett plays the nihilistic Newman, a man who’s actually glad that humanity has wiped itself out after his wife and child died partly due to procedural red tape several years earlier. During the course of the story he manages to acquire himself a young beauty to mate with, proves himself to be adequate as a surrogate father, beats off an entire base of gun-toting nutters Commando-style, and manages to be an all round hero - a process which can’t help but stimulate accusations of egocentricism from any viewers that are still awake. He is, however, probably one of the most ambitious film-makers that ever surfaced in the wake of Edward D Wood Jnr., and you can’t completely knock someone for trying this hard, even if it does end up completely wasting a couple of hours of your precious life. I actually first saw this when I was about ten years old thanks to my cousin who was babysitting us at the time - he put this on in between bouts of repeatedly playing the Convoy bar brawl in slow motion (video was a new phenomenon at the time) and my innocent mind was horrified at the bloodiness. Years later the squib effects are pretty good and it does feature occasionally gory shoot-outs, probably the one aspect of this production that was executed with some efficiency. Somehow Barkett persuaded the legendary Forrest J Ackerman to take part as ‘The Curator’ and even roped Dick Miller in for some voice work (perhaps the only competent bit of acting in the movie), but this doesn’t fool anybody. Lynne Margulies provides the love interest as Sarah well enough and it’s a surpirse to see Sid Haig as Cutter, a prolific tough guy actor who’s recently acquired a bit of infamy from Rob Zombie’s films. The ending is quite nifty but whatever way you look at it though, The Aftermath is still a piece of garden waste.

Released in the early days of video (under its original title I believe) this was later put out on a cheapo label as Zombie Aftermath in some amoral attempt at selling it to people who might have been expecting a little excitement (as the cover almost warns: ‘They returned from space expecting a heroes [sic] welcome. They were met by something very very [sic] different.’). I bought it a few years ago hoping it might live up to my vague boyhood memories of something far more epic and nastier but it just goes to show that even nostalgia can’t always turn shit to gold.