The Grim Cellar

1981, France/Germany, Directed by Andrzej Zulawski

Colour, Running Time: 123 minutes

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

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

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

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

1977, Canada, Directed by David Cronenberg

Colour, Running Time: 86 minutes

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

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

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

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

1997, US, Directed by Harmony Korine

Colour, Running Time: 89 minutes

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

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

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

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

1972, Italy, Directed by Giuliano Carnimeo

Colour, Running Time: 91 minutes

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

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

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

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

1942, US, Directed by John Brahm

Black & White, Running Time: 63 minutes

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

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

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

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

2003, US, Directed by Marcus Nispel

Colour, Running Time: 94 minutes

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

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

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

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

1969, Canada, Directed by David Cronenberg

Colour, Running Time: 63 minutes

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

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

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

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

1980, US, Directed by John Carpenter

Colour, Running Time: 86 minutes

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

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

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

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

1981, Spain, Directed by Jess Franco

Colour, Running Time: 77 minutes

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

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

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

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

2004, US, Directed by Brad Bird

Animation, Running Time: 111 minutes

DVD, Region 2, Disney, Video: Anamorphic 2.40:1, Audio: Dolby Digital 5.1 EX

Like Tim Burton Brad Bird spent a small initiation period into the film world with Disney reportedly doing some work on The Fox and The Hound, and later on becoming consultant on such intuitive TV series as The Simpsons and King of the Hill. He established himself as a smart creative force in animation and this was compounded when he took up his feature-length directorial debut for Warner Bros., The Iron Giant, the enjoyably old fashioned animated tale of an alien robot that befriends an earthbound boy. Becoming mates with John Lasseter back in the California Arts Institute days it was probably destiny that they should end up working together under the Pixar banner at some point, thus eventually Lasseter asked Bird to come over and shake up the company’s well earned complacency a bit and The Incredibles was born. Executive produced by Lasseter, the film was written from ideas going back several years and directed by Bird (who also voices the fashion designer Edna), ultimately to possibly revive belief that Pixar are world leaders when it comes to 3D computer animation. Following an introduction where we learn that superheroes became victimised by the public years previously (people suing them for rescues that resulted in injuries, etc.; actually quite believable these days!) and pushed into hiding as ‘normal’ citizens, the story focuses on one particular family - the Parrs - who’ve taken up roles in society as any other average family might: getting jobs, rearing offspring, contributing to governmental wealth, etc. Father/husband Bob Parr is clearly unhappy with his mundane existence and yearns for the old days of ‘saving the world’ so much that he and old hero pal Frozone (think Ice Man) actually go out weekly wearing masks to save people from fires, etc. When Bob gets the opportunity to work as a real superhero - his old alter-ego Mr Incredible - for what appears to be a secret organisation he jumps at the chance. After being fired from his office job he’s able to slip out pretending to go to work without his wife catching on… for a while. But when he’s captured by an old nemesis (actually a pseudo boy hero who he snubbed years before) his wife is forced to take up her old role as Elastigirl to rescue him, along with the two children who’ve tagged along, themselves boasting some useful powers.

Watching The Incredibles you’re confronted with a relentless barrage of brilliant ideas, from the script’s dialogue to visual design to technical wizardry. The main concept is something that most working class people (with a brain) can relate to as they plod along maintaining a life of mediocrity with no means of escaping to something better. Bob Parr/Mr Incredible feels like this: he’s an exceptional person who’s been forced to retreat into a secret life of normality where standing out from the crowd is no longer a possibility thanks to the persecutions perpetrated by the narrow-minded public years before. His wife has been forced into the same retreat but she’s managed to accept her fate, probably as a result of producing offspring and having her maternal instincts satisfied, but each day she battles to prevent her children, genetically inclined towards super-heroism, from exhibiting their powers and using them to their (or anybody else’s) advantage. Thus most of the family are really in conflict with themselves, on one hand attempting to lead a life outlined as acceptable by others, on the other fighting to hold back talents that overwhelmingly threaten others in the sense that they might realise there’s someone else actually ‘better’ than they are (even though the heroes want to use their talents for the benefit of those that feel threatened). I suppose in some respects there are elements of The X Men in there as superhumans are forced into hiding, but where the film excels is in creating characters that we can identify with and, perhaps more importantly, sympathise with. I think this is where The Incredibles also helped to shake up Pixar a little - a relationship between the viewer and the characters is cemented much more so than their preceding film, though a commercial hit, Finding Nemo, plus the 2004 movie comes across as something less aimed at children specifically. While Pixar had managed to attain consistent quality they were in danger of falling into the same trap that Disney did - becoming formulaic and playing it safe (this probably not being helped by forming distribution partnerships with the granddaddy of feature film animation). In light of that, The Incredibles is just what Pixar needed. It’s worth pointing out also that the vocal providers on this film don’t seem to swamp the production with their larger than life personalities as they so often do on today’s bigger budget animation features - I remember seeing a poster for Shrek (if I remember correctly) years ago where the names of the primary actors were actually larger than the title of the film itself. On a technical level it goes without saying that the film is close to perfection, exhibiting animation qualities of a world class standard. The models are simple but attractive designs whilst the overall appearance suggests a stylistic yet realistic approach that works superbly on aesthetic as well as practical levels. Despite revolutionary 3D animation The Incredibles most importantly functions as a comedy, an introspective drama, an action movie, and a great story. Brad Bird’s already got an ego the size of Hollywood Hills but there’s no denying his innate brilliance as a film-maker.

Supplied on DVD with reference quality presentation you’ll enjoy a detailed, perfectly coloured image combined with amazingly aggressive sound guaranteed to give your home cinema system a workout while putting your friend’s smiles on the other side of their heads. There’s a fairly comprehensive array of extras including a couple of short films, one of which details the story of the Parr baby after the rest of his family head off to save Mr Incredible. Over an hour of documentary material gives good insight into the animation process without becoming boring whether you’re familiar with it or not, though I think I could only stand putting up working next to some of Pixar’s zany employees for a few hours without resorting to homicide or unemployment. One of the greatest animation films of all time receives fantastic treatment on DVD and should be picked up by just about anybody.

1945, US, Directed by Erle C Kenton

Black & White, Running Time: 64 minutes

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

The trailer for this one followed almost exactly the same format as the previous year’s House of Frankenstein which, aside from hinting that the success of the 1944 movie had temporarily breathed a few hours extra life into the series, almost certainly proved that Universal had virtually no idea where to take horror at that time. Much of the film’s meagre running time revolves around the house of a doctor renowned for curing the incurable, a place where Dracula himself shows up hoping to rid himself of the bloodsucking curse, and also coincidentally Larry Talbot, who isn’t entirely happy that he spends many nights roaming moors in search of flesh rather than drinking beer down the local. Not only that but the doctor’s assistant is herself a hunchback waiting to be corrected as he perfects his medical procedures. Dracula goes through a series of blood transfusions every other night while Talbot has to wait for the doctor to grow a certain kind of plant whose vapours can soften the cranium bone, allowing careful manipulation that will theoretically permit remoulding thereby reducing pressure on areas that are causing the hormonal instability that in turn initiates physical transformation. The vampire however turns the tables on the doctor, reversing the blood transfusion one night and infecting the amiable man, causing a Jekyll-like alteration in his physical and mental make-up and creating a very new monster. This fresh abomination causes more havoc in Visaria than any of the others resulting in murder and a subsequent mob chase back to the house where a post-operation Talbot is almost implicated for the crime. As the doctor’s sanity deteriorates he reinvigorates the Frankenstein monster (having been found beneath the grounds in quicksand) with electricity bringing about one final climax of destructive mayhem.

It was nice to have many of the actors from the previous film return here; Carradine as the count, Glenn Strange as a barely used monster, Chaney as the wolf man of course, and even Lionel Atwill popping up as yet another figure of authority. The creepy Skelton Knaggs, notable for his eerie portrait of a mute sailor in Val Lewton’s Ghost Ship, also appears as one of the angry villagers. There’s no attempt to explain how Talbot and Dracula both return from their personal demises at the end of the last film but continuity is once again retained when it comes to the monster - this time found in quicksand underground, still with the skeletal remains of Niemann in his arms. It’s a real shame though that the creature has almost nothing to do except almost exactly the same as what his role entailed last time around: be found, be revived, destroy everything in the last couple of minutes. While the previous film was comparatively epic in its geographical scope this one limits the majority of action to the house with some occurrences taking place in the village. One aspect that I believe works quite well, and could have shaped an entire movie in its own right, is the metamorphosis of the doctor into a sort of human-vampire hybrid following Dracula’s malicious reverse transfusion. Probably taking influence from the Robert Louis Stevenson story this created one of the chilling images that I remember from childhood, the actual occurrence almost living up to that recollection. The transformed character is distinctly more evil than any of the famous monsters, most evident as he playfully torments Siegfried before killing him. The actor himself (Onslow Stevens) is also amazingly agile as he bounds through the sets in near athletic manner. As a footnote, the effect used to remove his reflection from the mirror is extremely well executed for the period.

Taking almost science fiction principles as explanatory factors as this film does perhaps this alone was evidence that Universal had no more faith in the unexplained supernatural. As a snapshot of a virtual madhouse in the middle of an alternate reality this movie almost works - it’s never boring at the very least - but that lack of innovation rears its head to hinder appreciation and considered as a finale to the Dracula/Frankenstein/Wolf Man series House of Dracula is slightly dissatisfying, then again perhaps it wasn’t quite the end… Now, I think I’m off to watch something in colour and widescreen.

1944, US, Directed by Erle C Kenton

Black & White, Running Time: 67 minutes

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

The badly edited trailer promised us not three, not four, but five times the terror this time around: aside from Frankenstein‘s creation, the wolf man, and Dracula (Glenn Strange, Lon Chaney, John Carradine respectively) being brought together there was also a ‘mad scientist’ (Boris Karloff as Niemann) and assisting ‘hunchback’ (Carroll Naish), though the latter wasn’t really abominable, just a little mixed up and easily influenced. It’s almost like an anthology film of two halves rather than one complete movie, the first half even boasting its own climactic chase and miniature happy ending. A distantly related associate of the Baron, Dr Niemann, is rotting in prison when a violent storm allows him and devoted hunchback Daniel to escape. Concealing themselves by hijacking a travelling horror show (the owner claiming that he has Dracula’s skeletal remains inside) and killing its owner they head off to reap revenge on those that helped convict Niemann. He decides to enlist Dracula’s help and extracts the stake that was rammed into the vampire’s heart aeons before. Dracula does his bidding but is betrayed by Niemann and Daniel while attempting to make his way back to his coffin, thus sunlight destroys him. Travelling to ‘Visaria’ (an altered spelling on the previous entry) to sort out the others Niemann also sees his chance to satisfy a long term interest in furthering Frankenstein’s experiments when they find the monster frozen in ice beneath some ruins, along with the body of the wolf man. Having picked up a gypsy girl the besotted Daniel is interested in having his brain inserted into the body of Talbot, who the gypsy girl quite fancies, while Talbot wants his brain put into another body so he doesn’t have to suffer eternal nights of hairy rambling and killing, but Niemann wants to implant the brains of his adversaries into the monster and wolf man to punish them, so it gets a little complicated with whose brain is supposed to be going where! Needless to say, it ends with an angry mob of villagers as well as complete demolition of any stone structure within close proximity.

It’s hard to believe they cram so much into sixty seven minutes, particularly when the monster and werewolf have yet to make an appearance by the half hour mark. Dracula doesn’t actually encounter the other two as his presence occupies the first segment before Niemann and Daniel make way to Visaria to free the others. I do find it strange that the monster is found in exactly the same state as he was in Frankenstein Meets The Wolf Man (frozen in ice) and is broken free for exactly the same reason (to help someone find the baron’s scientifically revelatory notes) - either exceedingly coincidental or just plain unimaginative. As expected, Larry Talbot is not happy about being woken from limbo once again. In fact he’s not happy about anything but it only takes a woman to put a smile on his face (with great effort admittedly) and the gypsy girl is it this time around, much to Daniel’s chagrin. Hunchback Daniel is really a touching character, managing to elicit a surprising degree of sympathy as he foolishly attempts to befriend the gypsy girl only for her to realise he’s deformed as he moves into view, later on becoming jealous as the girl and Talbot spend increasing amounts of time together. Though good looking the girl is hardly mature and a coquette by nature, becoming quite cruel to Daniel when angered that he’s revealed Talbot’s curse to her. Carradine’s debut as the count is good; he certainly makes a better Dracula than Chaney himself did a year or so before. The eloquent actor has such an oddly narrow face that he almost demonstrates a bewitching physical presence which itself is part of the count’s own essence. I much prefer Strange’s rendition of the monster compared to the preceding attempts too (the exception being Karloff of course).

By combining existing creations in this fashion and exhuming some already tired ideas that had been previously explored by themselves on numerous occasions, Universal’s film-makers were boasting little imagination or understanding of how to push the genre forward. However, they still managed to produce an entertaining movie and this fast paced ensemble with trappings and clichés intact provides a good time for the viewer, hence it’s difficult to complain.