The Grim Cellar

1980, Italy, Directed by Dario Argento

Colour, Running Time: 106 minutes

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

Not many people liked Inferno when it first appeared, or for a few years after that if I recall, and that seemed to be the first signs of a trend’s beginning for the director, something that would become an integral part of audience reaction to each work throughout the later 80s and 90s onwards. It took years for this film to become appreciated, not just on a larger scale but for myself personally also. Inferno’s inherently nonsensical nature can put many people off and understandably so given the cinematic conventions which people have generally become comfortably accustomed to. Of course there was always the possibility that the film was just a complete turd and its artistic pretensions were exactly that: pretensions. As the story opens there seems to be something sinister going on simultaneously in Rome and New York where the discovery of an ambiguous text authored by a medieval alchemist links in with a number of increasingly inexplicable supernatural occurrences, usually resulting in the death of someone who has become involuntarily involved in the awakening of forces beyond understanding.

To delve into the specifics of the ‘plot’ for the purpose of establishing a synopsis designed to entice viewers seems to be a futile exercise and therefore shall remain as brief as what I’ve outlined above. The delineated plot to the uninitiated might ramble and seemingly lead nowhere, ultimately failing to arouse people to what’s really going on in this film. The main characters are introduced into the story with no real background on their lives and wayward motives preventing us understanding them or the world that they inhabit. An example of the dysfunctional logic appears here: a man takes a bag of cats out to the lake to drown them (don’t ask why), at which point there is an eclipse occurring. He’s attacked by hundreds of rats and amidst the screams the cook of a nearby hotdog stand comes running over, to his aid you might believe. But then the anonymous cook brings up his meat cleaver and butchers the man to death before walking calmly away. There are lots of nice touches that construct the supernatural domain around us, as when a girl discovers an indistinct cloaked alchemist working away beneath the library - as he notices that she’s carrying a book of great significance (The Three Mothers) we catch a very brief glimpse of his hand, something that’s not human, possibly demonic. This subtlety is lost at the film’s conclusion to an extent, however. My favourite sequence falls very early in the film when Rose, after having read that a key lies in an old cellar, is enticed enough to go investigating underground. She comes across a subterranean pool but has to jump in after dropping something valuable in the water, only to find a flooded room with corpses floating within. The whole showpiece is incredibly atmospheric and spooky, and is the first real event that draws you into Inferno’s uncanny dimension. The film is technically a sequel to Suspiria but follows none of the characters (although Alida Valli - Ms Tanner in the 1977 film - makes a reappearance albeit as a different character). It is related only through the core concept of these three mothers we hear so much about, though there are some similarities in visual style with heavy cinematographic emphasis on artificially sourced primary colours such as red and blue. Whereas Goblin provided the infamous score for Suspiria fans of ELP may be surprised to know that Keith Emerson provided the score for Inferno and, whilst it’s not as emphatically insane as the former movie, it does underscore the dark world that Argento has developed here. There are occasions where the music is merely average, but sometimes it rises way beyond that - the film’s final act is driven by one stunning choral-rock track that remains one of my personal favourite musical arrangements among movies. Suspiria was notably easier to follow as far as the narrative was concerned so fan disappointment may originally have emanated from that fact, but Inferno supplies its own mysterious vision of a rising Hell that’s quite unique in cinema and this is where repeat viewings really help - I’ve seen it around seven times personally and find that it still presents a puzzle that I like to attempt deconstruction of whilst simultaneously revelling in the dripping atmosphere of the unknown. Inferno is a nightmare incarnate, a seemingly illogical meandering into an apocalyptic universe. Argento did here what few others might have been equipped for: he brought to audiences a nonsensical film that is inexplicably enjoyable.

It’s worth pointing out that there is a small amount of animal cruelty in Inferno, and this gave the BBFC cause for concern here in the UK during its original 20th Century Fox (distributors at the time) cinema and video releases - notably a cat devouring a mouse that’s clearly still alive. It’s certainly nothing on the scale of what we find in Italian cannibal films but some sensitive viewers may find it a little disconcerting. Cats are also thrown at one of the actors at one point too (reminding me of Tippi Hedren’s assault in The Birds) though I’m not sure if it’s the cats or the human that received the nastier treatment here. The easiest uncut version to go for currently is the disc from Blue Underground, though this is simply a port of the old Anchor Bay disc (the latter providing the source for this review) and features a widescreen transfer that looked amazing when it originally came out but now only passes as reasonable, being very soft and perhaps overly chromatic. It could do with a complete remaster but along with a limited but satisfying 5.1 track (with standard matrixed surround option available) this is still a great way to see Inferno. However Fox themselves also released a disc in Italy a while ago that is sharper (therefore grainier) and less saturated giving a very different appearance to the movie itself - it’s amazing how different a film can look between DVDs. The Fox disc also contains an inferior Italian track in mono (English is there too though only as a matrixed surround option) and these factors make it quite collectable. Either way, for the cinematic equivalent of a vivid and sadistic but ultimately pleasurable nightmare check out Argento’s Inferno.

Universal were almost responsible for initiating the first real horror boom at the beginning of the thirties with the infamous movies already elsewhere discussed at Grim Cellar. Perhaps the arrival of sound had a direct impact on the effectiveness of films to embellish a disturbing emotional manipulation of audience responses, and new possibilities were perceived. In their search for new ideas they turned to Egyptian history/mythology and to assist brought in their established master of terror at the time, Boris Karloff. The Mummy (1932) briefly recounted an age more than three millennia prior to the discovery of an ancient scroll, where priest Im-Ho-Tep is consumed by love and mourning to a point where he commits sacrilege by exercising a hex to raise his woman from the dead. For his sins he is forced to suffer one of the most tortuous deaths imaginable - burial alive. In the early part of the twentieth century his tomb is opened and the bandaged corpse discovered, but a foolishly optimistic young archaeologist reads aloud the ancient scroll, releasing a curse that revives the mummified priest. The young explorer goes insane and the priest departs into the night. Later on a strangely benevolent Egyptian - the priest without his bandages - appears on the scene and helps the explorers locate another tomb, something which leads to his realisation that one of the women, Helen, is actually the reincarnation of the lover that he died for centuries ago. His objective is to reunite their souls but the girl whose body is inhabited by the princess’s soul must die to allow this.

For younger viewers more familiar with the Stephen Sommers/Brendan Fraser action adventure yarns the original Universal film may be considered something of a whopping great bandaged borefest. It is quite slow and very old fashioned in terms of cinema, while gore didn’t really exist in this era and scares were of the atmospheric variety (i.e. there wasn’t a 100 decibel soundtrack jab designed to make you leap involuntarily every time something frightening was supposed to happen). It crafts a story that mixes the tragedy of impractical love with mythology and history, and the highlighting of cultural issues preventing two people from being together is just as relevant today. After establishing himself as a classic cinematographer on many German silents Karl Freund was rushed into directing, ultimately proving himself here to be methodical and considered, sometimes imaginative at the helm. There are inspired moments, such as Karloff’s foreboding narrative recollection of his former life, and the glowing eyes of course, though these do become a tad overused by the conclusion. There’s also the inclusion of a beautiful clip of a wolf in medium shot howling against the moon - probably stock footage but a phenomenon to witness nonetheless. Zita Johann is an alluringly naïve Helen, wearing amazingly low-cut dresses but not quite having the upper body physique for raincoat viewers (like me) to salivate over. The Motion Picture Production Code became a serious entity in 1934, something established in the USA to essentially force film-makers to abide by a series of rules that precluded sexual references, imagery, etc. Therefore films made prior to this often contained elements that were slightly more risqué than their post-1934 counterparts, and the wardrobe of Johann I believe was a product of this. The undisputed star of Universal’s early make-up era, Jack Pierce, provided groundbreaking processes for the mummy itself/himself. Both bandaged and ‘unclothed’, Karloff’s make-up is stupendous even to this day. One final surprise for those who only have vague recollections of these films is the mummy itself - in his stereotype form he is barely used here: we see he awaken at the film’s beginning, we see his feet stagger from the room, and that’s it. Afterwards Karloff returns only as the Egyptian Ardath Bey, an old but very human-looking man. The Mummy achieves its goal well enough and, while not quite a classic film, it possesses its fair share of eeriness combined with good storytelling.

It took the studio some time to follow up this moderately successful outing but it was inevitable at some point. The Mummy’s Hand (1940) recreated the history set up in the earlier movie. Taking elements of the filmed flashback featuring Boris Karloff (who’s not participating in this one or any of the subsequent sequels in the conventional sense) we learn that Kharis was condemned to the same mummification and death for similar reasons. Some time around the thirties or forties a couple of losers have their final chance at making a buck in Cairo before having to head back to the USA bankrupt. They learn of a hidden tomb which is sure to be filled with concealed treasure and persuade an erratic magician to lend them $2000 to fund an expedition. Along with some workers and the magician’s feisty young daughter they head out to uncover the tomb, but get more than they expected when the desecration of the Kharis resting place brings about his resurrection, something that’s welcomed by a local priest who enslaves Kharis to perform homicidal bidding.

It’s immediately obvious in the first sequel that the tone is lightened somewhat, mostly through the implementation of two wannabe comedians in the principal roles. Whilst their tomfoolery is generally incompetent, their comic timing being inadequate to some extent, the story and dialogue manage to keep your attention while you’re perfectly aware of what the film is building up to. It takes some time to get there too, with about half the film passing before some action appears on the horizon, however I think this contributes towards the formulation of a reasonable helping of atmosphere. This is where we see the mummy in all his traditional horror glory for the first time - a staggering, bandaged corpse intent on avenging the curse that has brought about his reanimated misery. His eyes appear to be blacked out by a possible manipulation of the negative (an effect not completed for the trailer itself) and his presence, courtesy of highly prolific actor Tom Tyler, is ominous - Pierce once again graced the creature with his skills. The flashback is quite a strange phenomenon: clearly they’ve used footage from the first film as they retell the story and Karloff is right there in many shots, but for close-ups it switches to new footage of Tyler, creating an oddly jarring effect. It could be said, consequently, that Karloff is actually present in this film, though his participation is nonexistent. While the budget for …Hand was approximately half that of its predecessor some of the production design may seem pretty outstanding, though that’s simply a result of economical set regurgitation - some of them were actually built for James Whale’s adventure story Green Hell. Finally, the sole female of note this time is Peggy Moran and whilst not quite as revealingly dressed as Zita Johann she is visually appealing and her initially dominating approach is unwittingly sexy. The Mummy’s Hand, directed by quickie specialist Christy Cabanne, is no doubt inferior in many respects to the original film, but it is entertaining and the pace is perceptively executed.

The story of …Hand is recounted at the beginning of The Mummy’s Tomb (1942) where the two guys responsible for the expedition that kicked everything off have returned to the USA and grown older. Still holding a grudge, however, the wizard who knows when it comes to mummified corpses (George Zucco) sends his servant across to the land of the free with the body of Kharis to reap vengeance on those who’ve caused all the trouble. The servant sets up as a graveyard caretaker while sending the mummy out to kill off the two clowns and anyone genetically associated with them, one by one.

This one really is a quickie: not only does it only run for an hour but the first ten minutes of that are taken up with a recap of the previous story, via flashbacks and the narration of Dick Foran’s returning character Steve Banning. Universal also managed to bring in Lon Chaney Junior (no doubt a consequence of his success in The Wolf Man) this time to play the monster, something he would do in the following two films also. They also managed to annoy the star in the process by dropping the ‘Jr.’ from the actor’s screen credit, something which favourably distinguished him from his famous father in his eyes. Chaney does a good job but there’s little real challenge with this creature, while the make-up, though not as proficient as the first movie, is suitably putrescent. Some of the stunt work is quite rough on the actors, particularly when it comes to fire. Several people are dangerously close to the flames at the end and one actor (who visibly falls against his torch) was reportedly burnt during filming. Neil Varnick’s story is quite feeble and lacking a certain amount of imagination, resorting to Universal’s obligatory mob of angry villagers for the film’s climax - quite strange because they’re carrying burning torches and clubs despite the time period somewhere around the middle of the twentieth century by my calculations based on the men’s ages, etc. The early sightings of the creature bring about a number of amusing situations when he manages to avoid being seen in almost every instance with the exception of his shadow, consequently this giving rise to several reports of ‘a shadow’ in the area! Imagine West Midlands police responding to reports like that… The entertainment factor here is diminished compared to the preceding chapters but the flick does retain a certain charm in its madness.

Some time after the events of …Tomb a group of hip students are learning history in The Mummy’s Ghost (1944) when the teacher decides to tell them about the mysterious mummy attacks that once allegedly took place in their very town. Whilst it all seems a little difficult to digest they don’t realise that the mummy inexplicably survived (indeed, it just wanders out of the forest near the beginning) and is soon on the move when the college professor experiments with the leaves that grant it strength and life - he is drawn to the leaves instinctively but kills the professor in the process. The servant (John Carradine) of Andoheb (George Zucco again) has been sent on a mission to track down the body of Kharis’s ancient lover, which has been shipped to a museum in the USA, but realises when the body crumbles that her spirit has reawakened in the shell of one of the young student girls. The servant decides that she must be ‘reacquired’ by Kharis. I’m sure they were making this stuff up as they went along at this point!

By about half way through …Ghost I’d pretty much resigned it to being a worthless pile of camel waste. Carradine’s acting is serious to the point of being about as active as a plank of wood, the mummy make-up seems to have been substantially cheapened (though Pierce was still involved, perhaps rushed), the story pedestrian and generally uninspiring. There are even clumsy errors such as Chaney’s useless arm suddenly becoming functional when he needs to carry an unconscious woman. However the damn film almost won me over by its conclusion: why? Because of that bloody dog! This thing outshines Lassie when it comes to intelligence. It’s only one of those small Jack Russell type of canines but, boy, is it smarter than the humans in this film. It actually responds to their statements and even goes to fetch the mob of angry villagers when the two heroes are in trouble - I couldn’t help by laugh. Also, the denouement of the story is quite grim compared to virtually all other Universal monster bashes, and the outcome surprised me. It’s not a good film by any stretch but the dog provided a few smiles (though whether those were intentional is another matter) and the climax is the most effective of the whole series.

Shot around the same time The Mummy’s Curse (1944) took Universal’s tendency towards temporal distortion one step further, with some pub-dwelling gypsy-types retelling some of the last movie’s events as being about twenty five years prior. Adding that up with the bodily aging of some of the previous characters, etc., this should place the time around the 1980s by my calculations, however it seems more like the turn of the twentieth century at the beginning before strangely shifting to 1940s America. I don’t suppose chronological logic was at the front of the minds of Universal’s writers… Anyway, there are plans to completely renovate the marsh near Mapleton, where the events of previous films took place, but a couple of museum archaeological buffs turn up wanting to dig out the mummy and his bride Princess Ananka (after having been left there at the end of …Ghost) to return them to the museum. Some of the locals are concerned that this interfering with the mummy’s current resting place will arouse the curse again, fears which aren’t without good cause it seems. After dredging half the swamp they soon find an empty space in the mud where ‘a large man’ would have lay, and of course a dead villager nearby. Oh yes, and the giveaway, there’s a bit of bandage left on the murdered person (I shit you not). While Kharis is roped in by one of the Egyptian servants to kill more people, this time Ananka also reawakens to wander around in a state of perpetual confusion regarding her origins or purpose.

The problem primarily by this point was the fact that the stories really had nowhere to go and very much continually rehashed ideas from earlier films. Quite literally too, as we were very often treated to flashbacks of footage from the other movies despite meagre running times. The mummy, again played by Lon Chaney Jr., was a creature of limited potential and was lucky to have his lifespan stretched out over this number of movies. The Mummy’s Curse begins more in the vein of many of Universal’s other films of the period, almost a timeless entity in a dimension undiscovered. The murders themselves are quite feeble - one guy stumbles in on a ritual during the awakening of the mummy and sort of asks what they’re up to, like one would, before the mummy, which would have been plainly in his sight, staggers right up to him without him noticing until he‘s actually being strangled. There is one standout sequence in this film, and indeed one of the best of the whole series; the revival of Ananka: she squirms awkwardly out of her grave, her eyes covered in mud and barely able to open, then staggers off in a manner that the TV girl in Ring would have been proud of. It’s possibly the creepiest scene in the whole mummy series and director Leslie Goodwins must have realised he was on to something because he gets his mileage out of it. Other than that it’s a derivative and uninspired finale to the series.

There was of course one more appearance for the monster to come: Abbott And Costello Meet The Mummy (1955), but this would offer little other than the two comedians making fools of themselves as the creature proves ineffective as a killing machine, though at least it would return the series to its Egyptian beginnings. The mummy films provide some fun overall, but were clearly not greatly respected by its studio - this is apparent by the haphazard manner in which the stories were rushed together and the running times as meagre as the films’ respective budgets. The mummy (actually Im-Ho-Tep in the first one, Kharis in the following four, and Klaris in the A&B entry) had minimal development as a character beyond the first film though at least there was some narrative progression and continuation from film to film, but within each context there was little to do for the monster other than stagger around and kill. In that sense he is almost a precursor to Michael Myers of Halloween or the homicidal lunatic of almost any other long-running slasher series - this is possibly the slasher movie in its embryonic infancy here, formulating many of the staples that would much later on become clichés in slasher cinema. Compared to Universal’s other series of the time the creature is less charismatic and quite a lonely entity. The fact that his arm and leg are virtually unusable (unless he needed to carry a helpless woman) did irritate me a little throughout - he’s rendered practically impotent and the explanation for this was briefly iterated early on in the series but afterwards employed simply as a tool for having him walk in a (then) tension-building fashion. The aforementioned temporal distortion is something that stands out if the viewer is to watch them in sequence, but there is some inadvertent bewilderment to be had with this. In fact the series as a whole works at its best if you simply switch off the logical side of your brain and accept the crazy rules on their own terms but, though idiosyncratic in the extreme, it can never quite match up to the studio’s Dracula, Frankenstein, and Wolf Man cycles. It’s a pity that the gradually diminishing quality of the series detracts from its achievements but it is nevertheless something that will provide a reasonable degree of entertainment, and that’s what it’s all about at the end of the day.

(P.S. Extra special thanks to Colin at Riding The High Country for making this article possible)

1977, US, Directed by Robert Voskanian

Colour, Running Time: 83 minutes

DVD, Region 1, Something Weird, Video: 1.33:1, Audio: Dolby Digital Mono

Rummaging through the monolithic back catalogue of horror movie history you come across many films by directors who were never heard of before or after, plus a number of gold nuggets that have slipped to the bottom of the lake along the way. Sometimes alternatively known as Zombie Child or Kill and Go Hide, The Child falls into both categories in my opinion, though it’s not a favourite among the majority who’ve seen it, either because my tastes are very exclusive or perhaps because it never found its target audience. Having said that though its target audience was never going to be large numbers of people. Exploitation specialist Harry Novak executive produced this (one of his last movies, but who the hell was Rob Voskanian?), and some may have come to this one having seen his preceding notorious work. Alicianne is on her way to move in with the Nordens as a housekeeper and babysitter. On her way the (vintage?) car malfunctions and she’s forced to make the rest of the route through the woods on foot, during which she runs into an old woman who delivers a few warnings about the locale. Once at the Norden place she meets the old man, his strapping son, and the young Rosalie. Immediately on arrival there’s something decidedly morbid about Rosalie - she seems to be humoured by stories of people suffering and apparently visits her mother’s grave in the cemetery next to the house in the middle of the night. There seem to be some eerie inhabitants in that cemetery too but it’s a long time until we get a clear look at them, though gradually it becomes apparent that they’re putrescent corpses - the walking variety - and Rosalie possesses some sort of psychic connection with these creatures. As it’s revealed that she’s using these monsters to kill off anybody that causes her any kind of irritability Alicianne and the Norden son are forced to make a run for it but the corpses rapidly close in on them, trapping them in an old industrial plant.

It’s apparent from the beginning that the atmosphere of The Child is a little bit different to that of your average film. I mean, there are relatively conventional plot points in there that could have been considered unoriginal - it’s obviously the product of a post-Night of the Living Dead era, with elements of The Bad Seed in there as the rear of Something Weird’s cover rightly acknowledges - but the feel is offbeat and appropriately supernatural. There are two factors that I believe contributes most significantly to this. One is the overall look of the image. Possibly it has been shot on 16mm given the appearance of the film used (though the IMDB lists it as 35mm, so I can’t be sure), and the cinematography is quite stark. Secondly, there’s the amazing sound design - the score and sound effects are extremely imaginative and unique. I know it also utilises looped dialogue and that can be considered amateurish itself if not conceived under highly professional conditions but I think here it possibly adds to the idiosyncratic feel of the world being created. It is also, however, undeniably cause for some amusement as Rosalie in particular blurbs her lines in such a strange and emphatic fashion. Creature design is quite excellent too: Voskanian makes the smart move of only partly revealing them in earlier scenes rather than adopting the show-all ethic of many such films, but later when we get full sight of them they’re strikingly eerie things. The assault on the old building with the two protagonists trapped inside mounts progressively in tension, almost resulting in a worthy successor to Romero’s Night…. Perhaps if it had been made ten years earlier though The Child might have been recognised in the same light. As it is, few people have seen it and many of those few have simply disregarded it as an amateurish rip-off, which is a shame because I think it has much more to offer than that and has stood up well over a number of viewings too.

After discovering The Child in the early nineties on a horrific looking video cassette whose image alternated randomly between colour and B&W (that’s not a feature of the film itself, rest assured) it was fantastic to find the Something Weird DVD with a comparatively incredible transfer. It appears to be a slightly cropped version of the full negative but essentially looks balanced. There is excess print damage at reel changes but this settles down after each intermittent bout, although at one point during a fade-to-black the screen is an absolute mass of speckles and scratches but I really don’t mind being reminded that I’m watching the product of ‘film’ in this digital day and age and the fact that it’s only of periodic concern should make it quite bearable for all but the most anal of fans. As was the tradition with SW there is quite an entertaining arrangement of extras, though few of them actually relate specifically to the feature film itself. There are some funny short documentary films made around the fifties about ‘creepy kids’, lots of insane trailers for movies you never knew existed, some great radio spots for flicks like Invasion of the Blood Farmers (played over an amazing collection of exploitation movie posters) and an entire feature film as added bonus. I Eat Your Skin is pretty bad all round - I used to own the SW video cassette of this one and here the disc transfer is actually more than acceptable in comparison, though somewhat lacking in definition by modern standards. SW have managed to fit all of this on one side of a DVD too - you get your money’s worth there’s no doubt but it’s a cool disc to buy just for The Child for fans of the more obscure zombie film.

1979, France, Directed by Jean Rollin

Colour, Running Time: 78 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Redemption, Video: Letterbox 1.66:1, Audio: MPEG Mono

Among those that have seen and dislike Jean Rollin’s work his skills behind the camera are undoubtedly in question. His movies may sometimes come across as clumsy or amateurish with his performers usually only vaguely aware of what constitutes good acting. But he made films over a three decade period with regularity, and aside from stopping off at one or two other genres along the way he generally drifted between porn and fantasy horror often amalgamating the staples of his two specialist areas with wanton disregard for established trends. Could there have been something more to this man and his material than tits and cheapo vampire teeth? By 1979 he had established himself as a prolific director in both porn and erotic vampire cinema, and Fascination would seem like a collision of the two at times with less overt emphasis on the latter than his earlier works. In the middle of rural France there’s a castle where two attractive females waste away their days, apparently waiting for some initially unspecified event. Elsewhere a group of bandits have robbed some poor sod carrying a fortune in gold and are about to make off with it when an argument splits their group and Marc makes off with the bag having betrayed his fellow criminals. After a struggle with his hostage he is located in the woodland by the other thieves and is forced to take refuge in the aforementioned castle, where he meets the two girls. Threatening them with his, er, gun the women appear to be distinctly unperturbed by his aggressive attitude towards them. Meanwhile the other bandits are keeping a safe distance from the castle effectively preventing Marc from leaving while waiting for their chance. It becomes apparent that Eva and Elisabeth are awaiting the arrival of a posse of bourgeois females in the middle of the night for some sort of ritualistic meeting. Unable to leave due to the gun-toting bandits outside and now unwilling to leave anyway due to a notable degree of sexual enticement from Eva, Marc is destined to be swept up in the strange activities that are about to take place in the castle.

While Rollin’s commonly used theme of vampirism is evident in this film it’s not visible to the point of fanged, blood-sucking people being present as it was in movies such as Le Frisson Des Vampires. This serves to provide both an interesting new slant to his favourite subject as well as removing one of the things that newcomers may have previously found hard to digest: very odd looking vampires. It takes a subtle backseat as Rollin crafts a surreal world which Marc becomes enslaved in, notably signified by the meteorological shift that takes place as he gets closer to the castle - the area is surrounded by mist. Eva and Elisabeth are gorgeous young women and obviously reflective of his regular theme of two female companions as protagonists that invades almost every Rollin movie. That Marc is trapped in a house with these two indicates that Rollin is purely recreating his own sexual fantasies on film and I think it’s this exhuming of the creator’s own omnipresent dreams that helps lend the work its share of artistic authenticity - beneath the surface there’s a tangible beauty here that’s difficult to fake. Eva is of course played by Brigitte Lahaie, star of a large number of porn flicks during the seventies including a few of Rollin’s, and her range of ‘skills’ is utilised in Fascination wherever possible without descending the story into outright hardcore. Her relationship with Elisabeth is slightly more complex than what we see on screen, this being hinted at when the latter displays a certain amount of suicidal jealousy upon Eva’s demonstration of sexual affection for Marc, though who she’s actually jealous of is quite ambiguous - perhaps it’s anybody when attention is not being directed at her. Marc himself is essentially a fool, a man who’s devoted himself to crime even to the point of stealing from other criminals and he wades into the girls’ world with a sense of arrogance that will eventually be stripped, and as such there is also an air of morality about the story that is flimsy but lurking nonetheless. Possibly more important than individual characters though is the surreal ambience that surrounds the situation that they find themselves in - it’s an odd world that has the boundaries between itself and reality blurred. Rollin’s landscape photography and exceptional use of locations here is, as ever, exemplary. Whether that’s a happy accident is for the viewer to decide I suppose. It’s also worth noting also that the music used in this film is among the best used for any Rollin venture and aids the visual material in several significant scenes. The most suitable approach to Rollin’s work is to forget about cinematic convention, remove expectation of complete verisimilitude, and sit back to witness the strange events of a place that surely can’t exist. Fascination is actually a better starting point than many of his other films and one of his best all round.

Releasing Fascination on video cassette during the nineties was something that helped Redemption become a respected distributor of lesser seen genre material. Many of the flicks they unleashed on their niche audience were almost impossible to see at the time and they quickly became a favourite of those who could appreciate cinematic obscurities. Unfortunately they failed to grasp the possibilities of the digital era when DVD arrived and their disc releases were consequently difficult to admire with companies like Blue Underground and Synapse appearing on the horizon. Fascination was their very first UK DVD some time near the format’s infancy so most issues can be forgiven considering DVD took a few years from conception to be perfected. The problem is that even years later their discs had hardly evolved and thus the only thing going for them was their obscure content - hardly an accolade in a new era. Things may be looking up for them, however, with what looks like a sparkling new anamorphic transfer of Lèvres de Sang materialising soon in the US. Anyway, Fascination in particular is correctly letterboxed though without enhancement. It looks reasonably detailed with copious print damage and some washing out of colours. Audio comes in MPEG format, something that was adopted to a small extent at the birth of DVD but quickly became overshadowed and eventually snuffed out all but completely by the much more marketable Dolby Digital. It serves its purpose but is at least in native French with functional subtitles for those of us whose grasp of continental tongue extends only to bon jour. Dark Side magazine later joined forces with Redemption to release the film on a double pack (limited to availability through the magazine) with another of Rollin’s greats, Requiem Pour un Vampire, though the claimed anamorphic enhancement provided no benefit due to the fact that it was from the same master. All in all there is a much better disc of Fascination to be sold to us at some point and I’m sure I’ll be one of those shelling out for it when it finally appears.

1935, US, Directed by Stuart Walker

Black & White, Running Time: 72 minutes

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

After the success of Guy Endore’s 1933 novel The Werewolf of Paris Universal missed the opportunity to hire the author as a screenwriter (MGM beat them to it - he went on to work on Mark of the Vampire, Mad Love, and Devil Doll for them), so they set about putting together their own wolf-man story. Appearing several years before the more commercially viable The Wolf Man the first real lycanthrope outing for the studio brought in Cornish actor Henry Hull as botanist Wilfred Glendon in search of a rare moonlight driven plant in Tibet. The scientist is mauled in an attack that occurs during an excursion through a valley that’s populated, as locally hypothesised, by demons - actually people that turn into wolves under moonlight. Having brought the plant back to England and now recovered from the vicious attack with only scars apparently remaining everything seems back to normal as he goes about studying the nature of his unusual find. Soon London is in the grip of terror as a series of murders and monster sightings threaten the safety of its inhabitants - Wilfred himself is afflicted with the Tibetan curse, transforming into a homicidal wolf-like man under full moon.

This is quite a different beast (excuse the pun) compared to Universal’s Larry Talbot series. It didn’t have any major stars, though reportedly there was to be a werewolf film around this time starring Karloff - something that was ultimately abandoned. Hull had the opportunity to wear make-up similar to what Chaney would later adopt in The Wolf Man, but found the process arduous and too uncomfortable to endure so a modified version was developed by make-up artist Jack Pierce. The creature as a result is quite unusual, sort of a less monstrous cousin of Oliver Reed’s titular monster in Curse of the Werewolf. One thing that’s quite unique to this film is the fact that the transformed beast actually resembles its human alias to a point where it can be recognised by those who know him, such is the similarity of facial features. Also, the werewolf here is less animal-like than is often the case: this creature doesn’t so much as shed clothing as he does actually getting dressed up to go out - leaving home after one transformation the werewolf grabs his hat and coat on the way out! At a glance the roaming monster could be mistaken for Mr Hyde and even utters some words later on during the film’s closing sequence. One nifty little idea comes when Wilfred begins realising there’s a problem: experimenting with simulated moonlight in attempts to stimulate the Tibetan plant into growth his hand gets caught under the lamp and promptly begins growing hair. It’s difficult to say whether Hull’s monster would have been more effective with Pierce’s full blown make-up as I never thought Chaney’s equivalent looked exactly threatening, but Hull is not the most frightening werewolf to be put on screen. He is, however, quite an eccentric creation and very eloquent along the way. A nice plus is the presence of the beautiful Valerie Hobson as his wife. She played alongside Colin Clive as the baron’s wife in Bride of Frankenstein and a notably different character too - while in Whale’s film she was of a slightly melancholic disposition here she is bubbly and perpetually effervescent. She brings some unwanted complexity to Wilfred’s life when she begins flirting and going out with an old flame, a situation that possibly evokes some of the darker feelings that reside within Wilfred. The werewolf myth has always seemed like an expression of the cathartic manifestation of man’s less desirable emotions and thoughts - the literal revelation of the primordial animal that’s buried beneath evolutionary layers to the point of almost complete suppression, at least in those of us that generally abide by the law. Thus there is much going on underneath Wilfred’s uptight exterior that can be contributing towards the creation of a beast.

This DVD presents a sharp image and mostly solid greyscales, along with quite a degree of grain in darker sequences. Generally it’s very agreeable. The audio track has plenty of hiss that does not detract from any enjoyment along the way - on the contrary, I actually prefer to hear some of this on particularly old films so I have little problem with it as long as it’s not excessive or obscuring dialogue, etc. Extras are non-existent also my DVD shares its nine gigabytes with the decidedly inferior She-Wolf of London, an unrelated borefest and possibly the nadir of Universal’s monster series (if it even qualifies as such). Werewolf of London is well written, competently acted, and features some unique ideas that elevate its value as a movie, despite the fact that it’s not especially frightening or challenging.

2001, US, Directed by John Dahl

Colour, Running Time: 95 minutes

BBC3 Broadcast, 1.78:1, English Dolby Stereo soundtrack

Better known as Joy Ride in the US (renamed here due to the British connotations of that name with crime) this appears to be a fairly conventional modern slasher type of story. Lewis is about to fly back home when he decides to buy a car and road-trip it instead, mainly to impress the girl he likes who probably places more value on a guy’s vehicular habits than she does on his integrity as a human being. On the way back he picks up his irritating brother Fuller who’s just been released from gaol, sorry - jail, after which they proceed to play a prank on a trucker via CB after Fuller is offended by one of the arguing inhabitants at a hotel they stop by. Pretending to be a nubile young chick Lewis arranges to for his fictitious female persona to meet the trucker at the room the angry inhabitant is staying, hoping to get their own back on the guy whilst simultaneously acquiring a bit of fun. What they don’t anticipate is the trucker turning up at this guy’s room (which is next to theirs), some sort of trouble occurring (an especially well orchestrated sequence where we see almost nothing but hear enough to know something‘s very wrong) and the guy ending up in a coma with his jaw ripped clean off. After being questioned by the police the brothers are hurried out of town with seemingly nothing more than a guilty conscience. But then the persistent and relentlessly psychotic trucker seems to be in pursuit of them, thus initiating a chase that becomes increasingly threatening and potentially homicidal.

Obviously bearing similarities to films like The Hitcher and Duel, there is something inherently limited about a plot such as this - psychotic trucker becomes offended by the prank of a couple of teenagers, psychotic trucker relentlessly pursues them at the expense of everything, presumably with the intention of wiping them off the face of the Earth. And deservedly so in the case of Fuller, one of those grating American teens that you find in all slasher films nowadays, though this is not strictly a slasher of course. Lewis (Paul Walker) is reasonably likeable and assists in holding attention by having dual characteristics, someone who is out for a laugh while encouraged by his wayward brother, but possessing nagging moral instincts that repeatedly suggest to him that what they’re doing isn’t entirely right. Of course they soon realise the error of their ways but that comes a little too late as they’re illogically unable to shake their pursuer. Along the trip they pick up Fuller’s girl (Leelee Sobieski, now a little more grown up from her role in Deep Impact, and all the hotter for it) and she’s dragged into the equation involuntarily, attempting in vain to bring some sanity to the proceedings. It’s a very well shot film, and especially well edited leading to a thrilling climax, but the holes are plentiful and impossibilities are difficult to ignore (the trucker must have some sort of tracking device on these people as well as records of their personal lives to maintain his ‘game’ to this level). But I suppose this is a film where it’s better to disengage the cranium contents and the first half in particular creates tangible atmosphere. In that respect there are worse ways to spend a couple of hours.

BBC3’s broadcast looked fantastic though they presented a visually modified version of the film at 1.78:1. I’ve previously seen the DVD and this is a small shame because the images are perfected to a point where this is a very good looking piece of work in its original 2.35:1 ratio. For fans the one to go for is the special edition DVD released on region 1 in 2005. Providing some moments of tension but refusing to step into areas of significant originality, Road Kill/Joy Ride may offer a moderate supply of entertainment for the evening but is highly unlikely to be remembered as a genre landmark.

1973, Spain, Directed by Carlos Aured

Colour, Running Time: 89 minutes

DVD, Region 1, BCI/Deimos, Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: Dolby Digital Mono

I first came across this movie as an n’th generation VHS cassette about fifteen years ago and after a couple of viewings pretty much consigned it to the back of my video shelf, though I suppose opinion is never helped when something is cut, cropped and looking worse than Vanessa Warwick’s rear end. So the digital age arrives and matures and BCI/Deimos comes along and releases the definitive version of a film that I had condemned to being crap, but behold, it seems to receive a few good reviews - time to re-evaluate maybe… So around a quarter of a century after its production, how does El Espanto Surge De La Tumba hold up? Hugo, Maurice and friends are chatting away one evening when the subject of a respected medium comes up and they decide to go visit the woman, for a bit of a joke in the case of Hugo in particular. Knowing about the legend of a medieval sorcerer, Hugo’s ancestor Alaric, who was killed for his sins centuries before (which we get to see in the prologue), Hugo facetiously asks the medium at the séance to call forth his spirit, which of course she appears to do. Alaric tells them where his severed head and body are buried hoping that the reintegration of them will bring him back to physical life from the netherworld which he is forced to wander in ethereal limbo. Hugo decides to take his friends on a mission to do just this, all of them heading up the mountains to a decrepit castle where they get the servants (!) to dig up half of the castle grounds looking for the separated body parts. Of course, once the inherently hostile Alaric is recomposed by a hypnotised/possessed Maurice, along with his lover who was also killed centuries ago also, Hugo and his friends are confronted with all manner of evil occurrences which they find themselves unable to control or escape from.

It’s difficult to describe something like this as superior film-making from a conventional perspective; Spanish horror exists in a universe of its own, much like the Italian equivalent but different again. While I tend to find these Spanish films very talky there have been one or two classics hiding beneath dirty rocks for those willing to look, notably Satan’s Blood and The Vampire’s Night Orgy for example. Jacinto Molina (AKA Paul Naschy) was sort of the king of Spanish horror if ever there can be considered one but his films have often been variable in quality while his acting ability was limited - put it this way, he‘s no Peter Cushing. Despite this what comes across is his perennial passion for this kind of material, almost compensating for any shortcomings, plus the fact that he wasn’t afraid to throw in copious amounts of gore and nudity to shock or titillate where relevant. Though his work is hardly the epitome of originality, usually being a strange concoction of other people’s ideas (probably a side effect of writing films like El Espanto… in two days), you can almost imagine him considering how a Universal monster movie would have appeared had they injected it with visible bloodshed and female flesh, then making something that approximates that ideal. Sometimes he may be egocentric (playing principal dual roles sometimes: one good and one evil as he does here) and living out his fantasies on screen (he brushes off beautiful women or takes them as he pleases), but he’s a likeable bloke who’s contributed much to exploitation cinema and is loved by many for his persona and work. His usual formula is adopted for El Espanto…, taking elements of witchcraft, vampirism, reincarnation, zombies (the latter resulting in the film’s best sequence) and mixing them together to produce a world where almost anything goes, however it’s not nearly as schizophrenic as it could have ended up. Hugo (Naschy) is, when it comes to the supernatural, a stereotype non-believer who is about to have his fixed perspective twisted way out of shape as the rebirth of his ancestor brings about doom to everything around him. One particular aspect of this film I really like is the setting: driving off into the mountains they’re pretty much isolated from the rest of mankind and almost seem to have entered another sinister dimension where they’re incarcerated. Their car is hijacked and ruined during the trip and they’re forced to buy an old banger from some locals which looks more like a hearse. From there they realise that they’re trapped in/around the castle with limited rations and a growing threat to their lives as terrible things begin happening around them. Hugo is himself the catalyst for all of this, first as he insists on summoning forth his ancestor at the séance, then when he drags his friends on a weekend adventure that will only lead to devastation, though considering Maurice seems to be bowing to the influence of demonic infiltration himself even before the trip, perhaps it isn’t entirely Hugo’s fault after all: Alaric may be exerting some influence beyond the grave or maybe it’s simply uncontrollable fate at work. Referring to the previous comment about female flesh, there are some incredibly beautiful women omnipresent in this movie and this is part of the appeal I’m not especially ashamed to say. Clothed scenes were filmed for less tolerant markets (included as an extra on the BCI/Deimos disc) and are unbelievably boring once you’ve seen the ‘proper’ version. Leading up to a fantastically downbeat climax El Espanto… is slow moving but thriving on its own rules and consequently quite enjoyable, though may work better I suspect once under the influence of some mind-altering substance.

There have been a few releases on disc, primarily in the US: Brentwood put out one of their typically messy discs a few years ago, this being followed by Crash Cinema’s SE which compiled several versions of the film; cut, uncut and clothed. The prints used weren’t of a high standard (the uncut version faring the worst) plus the audio tracks were English dubs only, however the fact that Crash had brought together all of this material into one package was commendable and their disc remains relevant. BCI/Deimos have effectively trumped that one with the uncut unclothed version being presented here with a stupendous looking image with options to listen to both the English and Castilian language tracks - a major bonus. There’s also an audio/text commentary, a nice introduction by Naschy himself, some extensive liner notes and one or two other titbits rounding out an amazing package. I must comment on the BCI/Deimos cover designs: I think they’re perceptively conceived and really attractive on the eye. This company have been an exceptional contributor to DVD horror of recent and they can turn the most mediocre of films into collectible material with their attention to perfecting what they release. Considering the film here is an odd but likable entry from the Spanish seventies/eighties era, this DVD is well worth adding to related collections.

1980, Italy/Spain, Directed by Bruno Mattei

Colour, Running Time: 96 minutes

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

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

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

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

1980, US, Directed by Lewis Teague

Colour, Running Time: 87 minutes

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

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

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

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

1981, France/Germany, Directed by Andrzej Zulawski

Colour, Running Time: 123 minutes

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

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

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

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

1977, Canada, Directed by David Cronenberg

Colour, Running Time: 86 minutes

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

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

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

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

1942, US, Directed by John Brahm

Black & White, Running Time: 63 minutes

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

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

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

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