BY FRED BLOSSER

José R. Larraz’s 1982 film “Black Candles” -- original title, “Los Ritos Sexuales del Diablo” -- has been released on Blu-ray by the specialty label Code Red. Carol (Vanesa Hidalgo) and her boyfriend Robert (Jeffrey Healey) fly to the U.K., where they accept an invitation by her widowed sister-in-law Fiona (“Martha Belton,” aka Helga Liné) to stay at Fiona’s country estate. As the viewer already knows from a pre-credit sex scene, Fiona and virtually everyone else on and around the estate are members of a devil-worshipping orgy cult. But Carol and Robert are clueless, even after they see satanic lithographs on the wall and Carol experiences bad dreams. Fiona seduces Robert into the coven, while the coven’s master, the sinisterly goateed Reverend Hübner, decides to initiate Carol at the cult’s next satanic ceremony . . . And that’s probably all anyone needs or wants to know about the plot, which unabashedly copies “Rosemary’s Baby” and adds all the nudity and simulated intercourse that Euro-movie fans would expect from the relaxed censorship of early 1980s, low-budget sexploitation cinema. Like Larraz’s marginally more famous “Vampyres” (1974), it’s probably better judged against the criteria of Joe Bob Briggs, “The Bare Facts Video Guide,” and “Mr. Skin” than by mainstream critical standards. That is: How many skin and sex scenes are in the film? Where do they occur? How long, umm, do they last? And how much skin do they show? By those benchmarks, Larraz delivers the goods. And for the record, his film at least is more honest in meeting the viewer’s baser expectations than any of the terrible sequels and remakes of “Rosemary’s Baby,” not least the now mercifully forgotten 2014 TV miniseries. The only actors in the cast likely to be recognized by anyone are Helga Liné, the foxy leading lady of countless 1960s and ‘70s Eurospy films, spaghetti westerns, giallo thrillers, and gladiator movies -- yes, she’s frequently nude in “Black Candles,” and in sleek form at almost 50 -- and Carmen Carrión, a familiar supporting actress in Jess Franco’s Eurotrash soft-core sex movies.

BCI Eclipse released “Black Candles” on DVD in the U.S. in 2007 as part of a “Welcome to the Grindhouse” double feature. Before that, there was a DVD-R pressing from Midnight Video under Larraz’s original Spanish title. The Code Red hi-def Blu-ray in anamorphic, 1.78:1 widescreen is far superior to either in sharpness and clarity, and likely the best home video edition we’ll ever see. The BCI Eclipse DVD lists an 85 minute running time, and Code Red lists 82 minutes for its Blu-ray. Based on a comparison viewing, however, the two editions seem to be substantially the same. The opening credits of the Code Red print give the title as “Hot Fantasies,” once used for late-night cable showings. The only extras are other Code Red trailers. The Code Red Blu-ray, which retails for $24.95, is available from Screen Archives Entertainment HERE.

FRED BLOSSER IS THE AUTHOR OF "SAVAGE SCROLLS: VOLUME ONE: SCHOLARSHIP FROM THE HYBORIAN AGE". CLICK HERE TO ORDER ON AMAZON

BY FRED BLOSSER

In Tim Hunter’s “River’s Edge” (1987), high-school student John (Daniel Roebuck) tells his pals Matt, Layne, Clarissa, and Maggie that he’s killed another friend, Jamie. The other kids don’t believe him -- he makes the statement with complete lack of emotion -- until he takes them down by the river and shows them the body. The revelation stymies the teens. As Hunter observes in his commentary track on the new Kino Lorber Blu-ray edition of the film, “These are kids who just don’t have the tools to make the tough choices life has thrown their way. . . . No one has taught them morals or values.” Their parents are either dead like John’s, absent like Matt’s father, or helpless like Matt’s divorced, stressed out mother.

Layne (Crispin Glover) argues that there’s nothing they can do for Jamie now, and they have to be loyal to John. He tries to cover up the crime by rolling Jamie’s corpse into the river, and advises John to lay low at the run-down house of their pot dealer, Feck, a crippled ex-biker (Dennis Hopper), until he can sneak out of town. Maggie (Roxana Zal) and Clarissa (Ione Skye, billed as Iona Skye Leitch) make a half-hearted attempt to report the murder before changing their minds. Only Matt (Keanu Reeves) shows any sustained remorse over Jamie’s death. He goes to the police, setting up a tense series of events as the cops look for John, Feck and John wander back to the river, and Layne tries to figure out who snitched. Like the events of two other seminal teen movies, “American Graffiti” (1973) and “Dazed and Confused” (1993), the action stretches into nighttime and into the following morning. In the meantime, Matt’s little brother Tim (Joshua Miller), angry at Matt for hitting him after Tim callously upsets their younger sister Kim, steals a gun from Feck’s house and determines to use it on his brother.

Dramatically and visually bleak, “River’s Edge” benefits from a strong script by Neal Jimenez and uniformly fine performances, with Reeves, Glover, and Hopper notably compelling. Reeves’ pensive, low-key presence effectively balances Glover’s jumpy, gawky physicality. “There’s a great method to Crispin’s madness,” Hunter observes in his commentary track. Glover is particularly striking in a display of grief near the end of the movie, aligning vocal reaction and body posture perfectly. To say more would reveal a spoiler, but you’ll know the scene when you see it. Skye and Zal have one of the best moments in the film, providing some subtle macabre humor as Clarissa and Maggie debate reporting the murder and go to a pay phone:

“Who do I call anyway?”

“The police, I guess.”

“Well, am I supposed to know the number?”

“Call the operator.”

Clarissa holds the receiver indecisively. “You do it.”

“I don’t know what to say. Here, I’ll dial, you talk.”

In his commentary track, Hunter compliments Danyi Deats, who plays the murdered Jamie. Aside from a silent flashback to the moment of Jamie’s murder, Deats’ scenes call for her to lie still on the open ground as the dead girl’s corpse, vulnerably and frontally nude. “She had a tough time,” Hunter says sympathetically, commenting that Deats took the pivotal but static role to get her SAG card. Jamie’s motionless, waxen corpse mirrors two other objects in the film: Feck’s inflatable sex doll, which he calls “Ally,” and little Kim’s doll which Tim vindictively throws off a bridge into the river in the film’s opening shot. Tim’s action begins the string of events that lead him to stalk Matt with a gun. It’s telling that Kim shows more feeling for her lost doll and Feck for his sex toy than Jamie’s friends display for her.

The 1980s details of “River’s Edge” look a little quaint today, when the 24/7 media give parents new reasons to worry about their kids with headlines and top-of-the-hour stories about teens sexting and swapping explicit selfies by smartphone. Nevertheless, the movie’s story and characters remain unsettling. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray’s hi-def, 1920x1080p image is serviceable. Besides the director’s commentary track, the disc includes a theatrical trailer.

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FRED BLOSSER IS THE AUTHOR OF "SAVAGE SCROLLS: VOLUME ONE: SCHOLARSHIP FROM THE HYBORIAN AGE". CLICK HERE TO ORDER ON AMAZON

BY FRED BLOSSER

Frederick Knott's suspense play "Wait Until Dark" premiered on Broadway on Feb. 2, 1966.  Lee Remick played Susy Hendrix, a young blind woman who becomes the target of a manipulative scheme orchestrated by a sinisterly glib psychopath, Harry Roat Jr. from Scarsdale. Robert Duvall, in his Broadway debut, had the pivotal supporting role of Roat. A movie version opened on Oct. 26, 1967, starring Audrey Hepburn (in an Oscar-nominated performance) as Susy and Alan Arkin as Roat, produced by Mel Ferrer (Hepburn's husband at the time), directed by Terence Young, and scored by Henry Mancini. A predecessor of today's popular, trickily plotted suspense movies like "Gone Gir" (2014) and "The Girl on the Train" (2016), the film was a commercial and critical success, ranking number sixteen in box-office returns for the year. Movies adapted from plays often feel stage-bound, but "Wait Until Dark" avoids those constraints, thanks in no small part to Young's fine pacing, sharp eye for detail, and sure grasp of character.

Bosley Crowther's October 27, 1967, film review in the New York Times noted that the Radio City Music Hall screening of "Wait Until Dark" included a stage show with a ballet troupe, performing dogs, and the Rockettes. Fifty years later, going out to a movie, you're lucky to get a good seat and decently lit projection for the price of admission. Any live entertainment comes courtesy of the patrons behind you who can't put away their smartphones for two hours.

Knott's play was confined to one interior set, Susy's cramped Greenwich Village apartment, which makes it a perennial favorite for little-theater and high-school drama productions on limited budgets. The movie adds a new opening scene in which Sus's husband Sam (Efrem Zimbalist Jr.), a freelance photographer, meets an attractive young woman, Lisa, as they board a flight from Montreal. When they land at JFK, Lisa hands Sam a child's doll and asks him to hold on to it for her temporarily. She says it's a present for the child of a friend, she just learned that the friend and the little girl will be meeting her at the airport, and she doesn't want to spoil the surprise; she'll call and come by for it later. Unknown to the obliging Sam, it's a phony story: Lisa is a drug mule, and narcotics are hidden inside the doll.

Lisa had planned to double-cross her accomplice Roat and split the money from the drug shipment with Mike (Richard Crenna) and Carlino (Jack Weston), her partners in past criminal schemes. Roat murders Lisa and enlists Mike and Carlino to help him find the doll in Susy and Sam's apartment. He lures Sam away with a call promising a big photo assignment. In his absence, Mike poses as an old Army friend of Sam's, and Carlino impersonates a detective investigating Lisa's murder. In a bad guy/good guy ploy, the phony Detective Sgt. Carlino insinuates that he suspects Sam of Lisa's murder. Mike intervenes, offering his support to Susy to gain her trust. To further disorient Susy, Roat poses as two men who appear to lend credence to the con.Harry Roat Sr., an an aggressive old man, barges into the apartment, noisily claiming to be in search of evidence that Lisa, his daughter-in-law, carried on a clandestine affair with Sam. Later, mild-mannered Harry Roat Jr. knocks on the door and apologizes for his father's outburst. It's a nice gimmick for Alan Arkin, who gets to impersonate three characters with different costumes and personalities. For audiences who watched the Broadway production, it might also have provided an effective "Aha" moment when they realized that there was only one Roat, not three. But it's no surprise for the movie audience, since close-up camera angles make it clear immediately that the other two are also Arkin in heavy make-up.

The new Blu-ray release of "Wait Until Dark" from the Warner Archive Collection presents the movie in a 1080p print for high-def TV. It's a definite improvement in richness from previous TV and home-video prints. The tailor-made audience is likely to be those older viewers who saw the film on the big screen in 1967, who may wonder if the movie's "gotcha"climax still holds up. Suffice to say without spoiling the scene for new viewers by going into details, it does. The film's stage origins are obvious in the dialogue-driven plot set-up and in the constrained setting of one cramped apartment. The measured exposition may be a hurdle for younger viewers used to a faster pace and visual shorthand, but the concentration of character interplay in a closed space isn't necessarily a problem, even for Millennials who have been conditioned to expect ADHD editing and splashy FX in movies. It imposes a sense of claustrophobia that subtly forces the audience to share Susy's mounting fear of being hemmed in and trapped.

In "Take a Look in the Dark", an eight-minute special feature ported over to the Blu-ray from a 2003 Warner Home Video DVD release, Alan Arkin notes that the psychotic Roat, with his granny-frame sunglasses and urban-hipster patter, was a break from the usual sneering, buttoned-down movie and TV villains of the time. "By and large, the public had not been exposed to that kind of person", he recalls. "But they began to have people like that live next to them, or see them in the newspapers or on TV." Ironically, if Roat was unsettling to 1967 audiences, he and his flick knife may seem insufficiently scary for younger viewers today, in the endless wake of movies and TV shows about flamboyantly demented murderers since "The Silence of the Lambs" (1990) -- not to mention the perpetrators of real-life mass murders that, numbingly, we seem to see every night on CNN, network, and local news.

BY FRED BLOSSER

Corky Curtiss (Robert Blake) aspires to be a champion stock-car racer. Fired from his job as a mechanic and dirt-track competitor in small-town Bates, Texas, he abandons his wife Peggy Jo (Charlotte Rampling) and their two small children, collects his pal Buddy (Chris Connelly) and heads east in his 1966 Barracuda. His destination: NASCAR’s Atlanta Motor Speedway, where he hopes to hook up with the legendary Richard Petty. Corky met the great Petty once, fleetingly, and he anticipates that the racing champ will remember him and offer him a chance at the big time.

Messy but interesting and relentlessly downbeat, “Corky” (1972) veers off into unexpected turns as Blake’s troubled character pursues his chicken-fried odyssey from Texas to Georgia. Ben Johnson and Laurence Luckinbill appear prominently in the credits, but they have hardly more than bit parts as rural racing impresarios whom Corky briefly meets as he passes through Louisiana. A scene with Pamela Payton-Wright as a fading and not-too-bright beauty queen, and one with Paul Stevens as a sympathetic track manager in Atlanta, don’t go quite as you might expect them to. Four NASCAR stars (Cale Yarborough, Bobby and Donnie Allison, and Buddy Baker) appear in a brief scene. Waiting hopefully to meet Petty in the NASCAR offices at the Atlanta speedway, Corky spies the four drivers through a soundproof glass wall in an adjacent room. As Corky waves, Yarborough glances at him, then turns away, and the other three appear not to notice him at all. The racers’ body language suggests that they’re preoccupied with planning for an upcoming meet, and not intentionally dismissive, but one wonders whether, today, NASCAR would insist on a fan-friendlier scene. Back home, Peggy Jo goes to Corky’s old boss Randy (Patrick O’Neal) to see if her husband is due any back pay that she desperately needs. Convention suggests that the older man will put the moves on the pretty, vulnerable girl. Instead, he’s a decent guy sympathetic to Peggy Jo’s plight. He gives her a check for her husband’s back wages and additional “severance pay” without strings. The biggest surprise among surprises is Rampling, who is believable and appealing in her atypical role. She even manages a decent Texas accent.

Reportedly, “Corky” was one of the MGM productions in the early ‘70s that suffered at the hands of imperious studio chief James Aubrey. One suspects that some of the film’s shortcomings, such as uneven pace and ragged continuity, and maybe the quick disappearances of Johnson and Luckinbill, were results of Aubrey’s post-production intrusion. Other lapses, like the miscasting of O’Neal and Connelly, good actors in wrong roles, probably not. Robert Blake’s performance is all over the place: abrasively pugnacious one moment, infantile and maudlin the next. Like the downward spiral of the story, which finally drops Corky as low as he can go, without redemption, Blake’s rawness is a reminder of the bygone cinema of the early ‘70s, where happy endings were hardly ever the norm and volatile actors were expected and even encouraged to get in the viewer’s face. Sometimes, watching today’s sanitized and exhaustingly upbeat products from Hollywood, I miss the old days.

“Corky” is a manufactured-on-demand DVD-R from Warner Archive Collection. The letterboxed, 2.35:1 image is satisfactory. The film’s theatrical trailer is the only extra. I wasn’t familiar with “Corky” before putting the disc in the player, but apparently the movie has a small but appreciative fan base of viewers who remember it from long-ago drive-in and TV showings. They should be particularly pleased that Warner Home Video has released the title.

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FRED BLOSSER IS THE AUTHOR OF "SAVAGE SCROLLS: VOLUME ONE: SCHOLARSHIP FROM THE HYBORIAN AGE". CLICK HERE TO ORDER ON AMAZON

BY FRED BLOSSER 

The Warner Archive Collection has released John Landis’ “Innocent Blood” (1992) in a new, remastered Blu-ray edition.  The Blu-ray incorporates two minutes of footage that appeared in overseas prints but were not included in previous U.S. releases. The film opens with a montage of the Pittsburgh skyline after dark, scored with Jackie Wilson’s lush 1960 ballad, “Night.” French vampire Marie (Anne Parillaud, in a lengthy nude scene) sits alone in her hotel room, deliberating on where to find her next sanguinary meal. She opens a newspaper to an article about a local Mafia crew headed by Sal “The Shark” Macelli and smiles: “I thought -- what about Italian?” She allows herself to be picked up by one of Sal’s henchmen, Tony (Chazz Palminteri), whose CD player is loaded with Sinatra discs. Just as Tony thinks she’s going to have sex with him, she chomps into his throat and drinks his blood -- no dainty bites here, she does a job on his neck -- and then, having satisfied her thirst, she obliterates his head with a shotgun blast. The massive cranial damage prevents Tony from coming back as a vampire himself. Marie also thinks that the blast will cover her tracks by leading police to believe that Tony was murdered by rival mobsters (but the forensics guy who later examines the scene figures out that the blood splatter from the shotgun is smaller than it should be -- “this guy was five quarts low.”) Marie chooses Sal (Robert Loggia) as her next victim, but she’s interrupted and forced to flee after biting him.

Pronounced dead and taken to the mortuary, the blood-soaked Sal climbs off the gurney and searches out his gang, turning them into vampires too. “We got the blood. We got the muscle. We’ll crack this town like a lobster,” he boasts, energized by the super strength he’s developed as one of the Undead. One of his victims is his sleazy lawyer Manny, played by Don Rickles. The stunt casting doesn’t disappoint, particularly if you’re a fan of late insult comic. The remorseful Marie enlists wary undercover cop Joe (Anthony LaPaglia) to help her hunt down the gangsters and do away with them before they can inflict more damage. Joe has a personal stake, so to speak, in bringing down Sal, Undead or not, whom he’d been close to busting in an earlier assignment. Moreover, he’s sexually and romantically attracted to Marie (this is Anne Parillaud, after all). But, knowing she’s a vampire, he’s worried that he’ll be her next appetizer.

“Innocent Blood” opened in theaters on September 25, 1992, and earned a relatively paltry $4.9 million in its brief theatrical run, far outpaced by another release that debuted on the same day, Michael Mann’s “The Last of the Mohicans.” In the years since, it’s slipped into obscurity on cable and home video, probably remembered only by compulsive horror fans and John Landis completists. The new Warner BRD at the correct 1.78:1 aspect ratio presents the film in peak condition, looking substantially better than it has on any previous home video edition. In fact, it’s probably an upgrade over the way it looked in most theaters on first release, given the slipshod maintenance of projector bulbs in the average suburban multiplex, then and now. The impeccable hi-def visuals are particularly impressive in Mac Ahlberg’s on-location exterior shots in Pittsburgh, with their electrifyingly vivid nighttime neons. Setting the movie in Pittsburgh doesn’t serve any particular dramatic purpose story-wise, but it gave Landis and the studio a tax credit from Pennsylvania’s Hollywood-friendly department of revenue, and locals will get a kick out of seeing the Liberty Tunnel and other area landmarks.

BY TIM GREAVES

A chiller-thriller from the pen of Brian Clemens, 1971's See No Evil was a notably lower-key affair for director Richard Fleischer, former helmer on such celebrated cinematic epics as The Fantastic Voyage, Doctor Doolittle, Tora! Tora! Tora! and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Which isn't to imply See No Evil is inferior. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Left blind after a horse-riding accident, Sarah (Mia Farrow) moves in with her Aunt and Uncle, Betty and George Rexton (Dorothy Alison and Robin Bailey) and her cousin Sandy (Diane Grayson) at their opulent riverside home. Familiar with the geography of the sprawling house, Sarah is able to confidently go about coping with her disability. Arriving home after spending the day with an old boyfriend, local horse breeder Steve (Norman Eshley), Sarah believes the family to be out for the evening and prepares for bed, unaware that in her absence all three have been brutally murdered. She eventually stumbles upon the bodies and encounters the mortally wounded gardener (Brian Robinson) whose dying words warn her that the killer is certain to return to retrieve a damning piece of evidence he carelessly left behind…

The legendary Brian Clemens is probably best known as producer-writer on classic TV show The Avengers, but he was also the mind behind a batch of very fine Brit movie chillers, among them And Soon the Darkness, Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde and Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter, the latter which he also directed. His script for See No Evil is an efficient little knuckle-whitener, questionable perhaps only in the motivations of its wrongdoer. Is watching a couple of X-certificate movies – in the opening scene the killer-to-be, face unseen, leaves a cinema screening ‘The Convent Murders’ and ‘Rapist Cult’ (both fictitious) – and getting one’s gaudy cowboy boots splashed by a passing car really sufficient impetus for a murder spree? Of course, no-one expects the bad guy in this type of movie to be sane, but the heavy-handed message during the opening credits sequence that society’s glorification of violence is the cause for what follows is pretty tenuous.

In any event, See No Evil (which I first saw on late night TV as Blind Terror, its original UK theatrical release title) is less of a tawdry exploitationer than it might have been, making up for any perceived deficiency in that regard with a goodly infusion of nerve-jangling suspense. Indeed, Fleischer and Clemens aim for burgeoning ill-ease as opposed to gory spectacle and for my money they hit the target square on. There are occasional moments of nastiness peppered throughout – the sudden reveal of Sandy’s corpse, a haunting shot of George immersed in a bathtub of bloody water – but they're fleeting and it’s fair to say the film works primarily as an exercise in measured pacing and sustained suspense. Take for example a protracted sequence in which Sarah goes about her daily routine unaware that she's just feet away from the dead bodies of her family. Throughout this stretch Fleischer toys mercilessly with the audience and Gerry Fisher's cinematography really comes into its own as we're treated to a series of impressive tracking shots, each homing in on a dropped or discarded item, increasingly telegraphing the sense that something bad has happened, until the eventual reveal of the Rextons’ corpses. Of course whilst we, the audience, witness all this – including broken glass on the kitchen floor (which we just know will be trodden on at some point and, in a wince-inducing moment, it is) – poor, sightless Sarah sees none of it. Once she finally realises what's happening the pace quickens and the story mutates into an extended game of cat and (blind) mouse. There's a beautifully framed instance of tease when our cowboy-booted killer climbs a flight of stairs; Sarah stands foreground, hidden from him, and the camera circles so that whilst it remains focused on her it simultaneously observes the killer's ascent. One can't help but strain to see the face that remains tantalisingly out of shot! If the suspense loses momentum a tad when Sarah's plight changes from being pursued by the murderer to an unexpected ordeal instigated by a latecomer to the party, well, it's only a minor blip.

UK release poster.

As with any murder mystery worth its mettle there's a proliferation of suspects on hand too – a gypsy encampment just down the lane from the Rexton abode offers up a whole shoal of red herrings – and it’s not too surprising that one's eye is frequently drawn to inspect a character’s footwear.

Mia Farrow conveys blindness convincingly and Norman Eshley makes for a suitably handsome hero, whilst Lila Kaye and a surly Michael Elphick stand out among the myriad of gypsies. It’s nice to see Paul Nicholas and Christopher Matthews in small but not insignificant roles. Elmer Bernstein furnishes the proceedings with a lush score, although rather amusingly he can't help slipping into The Magnificent Seven territory during a sequence when Sarah and Steve are out riding on horseback.

BY FRED BLOSSER

Mario Bava’s Gli invasori or The Invaders (1961) was imported to U.S. theaters in 1963 by American International Pictures in a dubbed print as Erik the Conqueror -- not to be confused now with Terry Jones’ 1989 farce, Erik the Viking. It was the sort of genre movie that would have played on a weekend double-bill at the Kayton, the second-run theater in my home town. There, it would have been paired either with another Italian peplum or sword-and-sandal epic, with a Hammer Films horror show, or with an Audie Murphy western. The Kayton’s 1960s double features were eclectic, to say the least. In that buttoned-down Cold War era, the peplums satisfied international box-office demand for movies about brawny bare-chested heroes, curvaceous scantily-clad women, and exotic settings that Hollywood productions like Quo Vadis (1951), Ben-Hur (1959), and Cleopatra (1964) were slow to satisfy because they were so expensive and time-consuming to produce. The model for Erik the Conqueror was Richard Fleischer’s very popular 1958 epic The Vikings, produced by and starring Kirk Douglas. The influence must have been obvious at the time even to undiscriminating audiences who watched the dubbed import at the Kayton and its counterparts in other small towns. But The Vikings required an investment of $5 million in 1950s dollars from Douglas’ Bryna Productions and its partners to pay for A-list Hollywood talent and on-location filming in Norway. Bava wrapped Erik the Conqueror for a fraction of that cost using existing studio interiors, exteriors on the Italian coast, a modest cast, and ingenious camera tricks that obviated the need for hiring thousands of extras for crowd scenes and constructing new sets.

American International’s 1963 movie poster played the film for exploitative value. “He lived only for the flesh and the sword!” the tag line proclaimed. The British poster under the title The Invaders similarly advertised, “He lusted for war and women.” Both ads suggested more sex and skin than the script, costuming, and actors actually delivered. Like The Vikings, Erik the Conqueror centers on two antagonists who don’t realize at the outset that they’re brothers. Dispatched by English King Lotar (Franco Ressel) to negotiate peace with the Viking chief Harald, the treacherous Sir Rutford (Andrea Checchi) instead attacks Harald’s village, massacres Harald and most of his people, and engineers Lotar’s murder. Harald’s young sons are separated in the chaos. Eron is rescued and carried to Norway, while Erik is adopted by the now-widowed English queen, Alice. Twenty years later, colluding with Rutford, Eron (Cameron Mitchell) leads an invasion of England and sinks an English warship commanded by Erik, now the Duke of Helford. Kidnapping Queen Alice, Eron installs Rutford as his regent. In the meantime, Erik (George Ardisson) is shipwrecked among the Vikings. In a romantic misunderstanding, Erik mistakes Eron’s bride, the Vestal Virgin Daya (Ellen Kessler), for his own sweetheart, Daya’s twin sister Rama (Alice Kessler). The Vestal Virgins are an anachronism in the Medieval setting, but the conceit gave the producers a chance to include dancing girls in diaphanous gowns to pique the attention of male viewers. Once the misunderstanding with Rama is squared away, Erik rescues the queen and proceeds to a showdown with Eron and the turncoat Rutford.

Arrow Video in the U.K. has released a new, 2K restored print of Erik the Conqueror from the original 35 mm camera negative in a Blu-ray and DVD combo package. The new release provides a renewed opportunity to reassess Bava’s movie in a sharp, letterboxed 2.35:1 Dyaliscope image, with critical context provided by supplementary materials. Rescued from the drab, pan-and-scan format to which it was doomed in old TV and VHS editions, and enhanced even beyond Anchor Bay’s worthy 2007 DVD edition, it emerges as an acceptable B-movie with respectable costuming and action scenes. The production values are notably better than those of most peplums and easily comparable to those of Hollywood’s second-tier Technicolor epics of the 1950s, if not to the overall finesse of higher-profile releases like The Vikings and Jack Cardiff’s lively, underrated Norse epic from 1964, The Long Ships. Plot, dialogue, and characterizations are rudimentary, but then, so are those in the joyless, overstuffed, multi-million-dollar costume epics of recent vintage. At that, some of the sillier lines in Bava’s movie can be avoided by turning on the Blu-ray’s Italian voice track and English subtitles instead of the English-language dub with its alternately wooden and childish voices. The simple-minded dialogue in Gladiator (2003), Robin Hood (2010), and King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017) is pretty much inescapable short of turning the volume completely off.

BY TIM GREAVES 

The year 1987 saw the release of director Steve De Jarnatt’s debut feature, Cherry 2000, an actioner planted in a dystopian future. A strong headlining performance from Melanie Griffith aside, it’s not a particularly remarkable film, but I liked it when I first saw it and still do. However, De Jarnatt’s second offering, which he also wrote, is a different beast altogether: A unique and intoxicating cinematic nightmare. Where else but in Miracle Mile can you see a fledgling romance play out against the countdown to the apocalypse?

Whilst strolling around a museum in Los Angeles, Harry Washello (Anthony Edwards) and Julie Peters (Mare Winninghan) cross paths several times. They get talking and it’s evident there’s a mutual attraction between the two lonely hearts. Having arranged an after-midnight date with Julie when her waitressing shift at an all-night diner on L.A.’s Miracle Mile finishes, Harry decides to take a nap. But his alarm fails to go off and he’s late – almost 4 hours late in fact. Julie has unsurprisingly given up and gone home. He tries to call her from a phone booth outside the diner but gets no reply. As he walks away the phone rings and he returns to answer it. Believing Harry to be someone else, a distraught man’s voice informs him he’s at a silo in North Dakota from where nuclear missiles are set to be launched in less than an hour, with reprisals targeting L.A. expected to follow minutes later...

Miracle Mile’s opening scenes introduce its two instantly likeable protagonists and swiftly lay out enough lightly comic trimmings that anyone going in blind could easily be primed with expectation for a gentle rom-com. Indeed, we subsequently follow the couple through a montage of first-date activity and Harry is introduced to Julie’s beloved grandparents. But hold on, because things are about to veer off into less comfortable territory. Following the aforementioned telephone conversation – a couple of minutes during which the film’s tone darkens quite dramatically – Harry goes into the diner and recounts what he’s just heard to the motley assembly of patrons. In doing so he plants a seed that quickly sprouts into a living nightmare. The sense of urgency builds at an ever-increasing rate as the remainder of the film charts Harry’s race against time to locate and get Julie to safety, encountering as he goes a succession of quirky and dubious characters lurking on the night-shrouded streets of L.A.

With the escalating tension driven by a hauntingly eloquent Tangerine Dream score, there’s one burning question that propels the narrative: is what Harry was told during that phone call for real or was it some sort of twisted hoax? Suffice to say that as time ticks on and the sun begins to rise all hell breaks loose, with politesse kicked into the dirt as panic-stricken people behave the way that panic-stricken people do; cars filled with terrified citizens clog the streets out of the city and there are glimpses of the animalistic manner in which the less conscionable choose to spend what they perceive to be their last minutes on Earth. Worse yet, as potential Armageddon fails to materialise when predicted, Harry begins to fear that he – rather than any genuine impending threat – may have inadvertently instigated all the madness, anxiously likening himself to Chicken Little.

Now, Miracle Mile may be touching 30 years old, but for the benefit of those unfamiliar with the film I shall leave any further discussion about the plot there.

Anthony Edwards and Mare Winningham deliver splendidly endearing performances and director Steve De Jarnatt invests just enough time establishing the romantic thread at the outset that, as fate unrelentingly conspires to separate the pair, the viewer is filled with an overwhelming desire to see them make it out alive to pastures green. Although almost every other character in the story appears only briefly, there are memorable turns from Mykelti Williamson as a trader in knock-off hi-fi gear, John Agar and Lou Hancock as Julie’s grandparents and Brian Thompson as a fitness freak who just may facilitate Harry and Julie’s salvation.

By Hank Reineke

I wasn’t expecting Citizen Kane, really I wasn’t. When the top-billed actor in your already quirky production is the Edward D. Wood regular the Amazing Criswell, the failed psychic… Well, you know what to expect on some gut level. The Amazing Criswell, admittedly an already very minor celebrity psychic in his day, achieved certain notoriety for his ridiculous and wildly inaccurate predictions. Following his turn in Wood’s seminal cult classic Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959) and the (very) belatedly released Night of The Ghouls (shot in 1959 but only released in 1984), the pale, blue-eyed, bleached blond Criswell is outfitted in Count Dracula-like garb for Orgy of the Dead (1965). This is, as one might expect, a classic Criswell performance; it’s both refreshing and strangely comforting to listen to him put all his dramatic inflection and stresses on the wrong words, accentuating the coordinating conjunctions rather than the nouns of nearly every sentence.

In Orgy of the Dead, directed by A.C. Stephen from a threadbare “script” written by the revered Mr. Wood, the not always Amazing Criswell portrays the “Emperor of the Night.” The Emperor is holding court at an eerie cemetery… or as eerie a graveyard as one can set-dress on a shoe-string budget and an indoor soundstage. The Emperor is soon joined by his “Empress” (Fawn Silver), a Vampira- meets- Elvira character with Sapphic tendencies who sports a layer of blue make-up that covers the entirety of her body. Well, all of her body except for the deep crease between her two ample breasts. I suppose the production’s make-up artist was too shy to apply and “go deep.”

If this spooky scenario seems promising in a “so-bad-it’s-good sort-of-way,” there’s disappointment ahead. Despite its fog-bound horror film trappings, Orgy of the Dead is not remotely a horror film at all. In fact, the only genuine horror to be found on screen is in the ineptitude demonstrated by this the ensemble of actors, actresses, and, um, exotic dancers. There is no real narrative here; the film is merely a ninety-minute long topless peep-show revue with Halloween trimmings. Before the film sputters to a merciful finale, we’ve been made to witness no fewer than ten interpretative topless dance routines, all mind-numbing and pretty much non-erotic in their presentation. It’s all freeform and non-stop bumping and grinding and jiggling in panties and G-strings and bad costumes. Take my word on this; it’s not as good as it might sound.

Orgy of the Dead is the celluloid equivalent of those 1960’s nudie magazines that featured buxom, cheesecake cuties on their covers. The sort of “men’s magazines” that were prudently stashed in the top-tier racks of tobacco shops and stationary stores as to not offend the readers of Good Housekeeping or Better Homes and Gardens. The parade of beauties and near-beauties tapped to ply their trade before a leering camera are not former members of the Martha Graham Dance Company. More probably, they took the night off from their regular gig performing at a local topless gin mill or adult-themed nightclub. Or maybe they were making some quick afternoon dough by strutting their stuff on this grass mat and fog shrouded set.

The dancers try their damndest to play to the camera, but it’s all sort of sad. Almost all of the cast share one common trait, and not a good one: blank and expressionless eyes. Everyone seems to be looking past the rolling cameras into some far-off beyond that only they can see, sadly detached from their own performances-in-progress. I imagine this type of personal disengagement was honed on stage during their nightclub exhibitions, perhaps as some sort of protective emotional cocoon.

It’s almost a relief when, some twenty-five minutes or so into a parade of not-particularly-well-executed interpretative dance routines, that a muse seeking mystery novelist named Bob (William Bates) and best gal Shirley (Pat Barrington) are kidnapped by a Mummy and a Wolfman, dragging the bewildered pair from the bushes. One might expect things to become a bit livelier with this turn of events but, sadly, it is not to be. These two masked monsters (referenced as “The Keepers of the Damned”) simply strap the couple to a pair of stakes in the cemetery, a punishment for their eavesdropping on the unholy ceremony in progress. Forcing this bewildered couple to bear witness to this seemingly endless string of interpretative dance routines can certainly be considered cruel and unusual punishment. They should have invoked the Geneva Convention.

Sync- sound recording is kept to the barest minimum, confined only to the wince-inducing exchanges of dialogue between Bob and Shirley and the self-proclaimed Emperor of Empress of the Night. I cannot reasonably include the occasional and wretched banter between the Wolfman and Mummy as sound synch as both characters are wearing masks and presumably dubbed throughout.

Even for the most unapologetic Edward. D. Wood devotee, this endless parade of non-erotic topless dance routines becomes increasingly tiring, the burlesque showcase more tedious than titillating. Even the Vampira meets Elvira –like “Empress of the Night” character eventually dismisses the parade of nudie dance routines as “infinitesimal bits of fluff,” and for once I’m in total agreement. The film starts off promisingly in the classic Wood Jr. fashion with two bad actors tripping over their tongues as they attempt to deliver halting sobriquets of Wood’s God-awful dialogue. But it’s all downhill from there.

BY DARREN ALLISON

When it comes to good adventure stories, Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959) will arguably feature among the very best. It is one of those films that continue to delight audiences both old and new. In terms of elements it seems to tick all the boxes. At its heart, there is a fine, good natured yet entirely gripping story. A wondrous subterranean vista provides the viewer with monsters, vast underground oceans, villains and plenty of cliff-hanger moments of suspense.

It was perhaps a well-timed stroke of luck that some of the stories penned by Jules Verne were entering a period of public domain status. Two of Verne's adapted novels were to feature James Mason. Disney's adventure 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954) starred Kirk Douglas as a 19th-century whaler and Mason as Nemo, captain of the story’s legendary submarine, the Nautilus. Five years later, Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959) was made by Twentieth Century Fox an ambitious project which starred Mason as professor Lindenbrook, who sets about leading an expedition into an Icelandic volcano along with his group to a magical, underground world.

Professor Lindenbrook discovers a long-hidden message that reveals the existence of a passage into the centre of the Earth. He leads a team of unlikely adventurers including singer Pat Boone (who is actually rather good), Arlene Dahl, and a duck named Gertrude. The group’s daring expedition will see them come up against exploding volcanoes, rockslides and even flesh-eating reptiles! The film also features a classic score by the great composer Bernard Hermann and was lavishly filmed in stunning Cinemascope. A landmark in both science-fiction and adventure filmmaking, Eureka Classics presents the movie for the first time on Blu-ray in the UK and from a very impressive 4K restoration.

As a keen fan of the movie, I’ve followed closely the numerous home video releases over several decades – from the humble VHS, Laserdisc and DVD era through today. Whilst each format provided a natural improvement in terms of quality, it was a film that never looked entirely satisfactory, with issues around dull colours and an overall grainy presentation. I did have some initial fears about the new 4K restoration, mainly concerning if it would only enhance the grainy look to the film. Thankfully, my worst fears were immediately put to rest.

Eureka’s new Blu-ray looks nothing short of stunning; there is a genuine freshness to the picture quality. The colour retains a wonderful, natural feel, vivid but never too rich, especially in the opening scenes based around the college and the Edinburgh street locations. The colour is ramped up a degree for the subterranean scenes, as of course they should. But these scenes are now nicely rendered, bursting with shimmering colours and crisp detail. I was also pleasantly surprised by the lack of grain that had previously hampered so many other home editions. Instead, the 1080p, 4K restoration (provided by Twilight Time) is beautifully balanced, extremely clean and as close to perfection as we’re ever likely to see. It’s been a long, patient journey for fans of the movie. Without a doubt, Journey to the Center of the Earth should always have looked this good. Leo Tover’s glorious Cinemascope photography has never been showcased so well, and I very much doubt if it could ever be improved upon. Twentieth Century Fox’s Cinemascope features have never fallen short in terms of rich detail, it’s always been there. However, in respect of Journey to the Center of the Earth, it’s arguably never received the kind of close attention that it’s so fully deserved. Eureka’s release also provides a couple of audio options including a stereo PCM track and a rather impressive DTS 5.1 HD master. Both tracks are clear, clean and dynamic.

Leading the extras is a very enjoyable audio commentary with actress Diane Baker and film historians Steven C. Smith and Nick Redman. Diane Baker really emerges as a wonderful commentator with an incredibly detailed memory and she has no trouble reciting anecdotes from the production. Steven C. Smith (a Bernard Herrmann historian) also demonstrates a vast knowledge of cinema and engages effortlessly even when veering away from Herrmann’s incredibly important contribution to the film. With two such enthusiastic and knowledgeable guests, Nick Redman’s role as moderator is made very easy, and the entire duration of the commentary is both an insightful and absorbing experience.

Also included is an isolated music and effects audio track.

New to this release is a video interview with critic and author Kim Newman. As always, Newman provides many important insights into the production, a look at the written works of Jules Verne and the subsequent adaptations of his stories to the screen. Lasting around 15 minutes, it’s a welcome and enjoyable piece.

There is also a previously released featurette on the film’s restoration history which provides split screen examples of various home editions of the movie.

The extras are rounded off with the original theatrical trailer which features James Mason’s perfectly delivered voice over.

Packaging consists of new artwork, which is ok, but I would much rather see the original poster artwork put to good use. Inside contains there is a booklet featuring an original review of the film from 1959; a poster gallery; and a selection of rare archival imagery.

Overall, it’s a terrific package with a stunning presentation of an important movie. Fans of the genre and the film, should at last find a great deal of satisfaction in Eureka’s release. It’s been a long time coming, but entirely worth the wait.

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BY JOHN M. WHALEN

In Raoul Walsh’s “Gun Fury,” a 1953 Columbia western, Donna Reed plays genteel southern belle, Jennifer Ballard, who is traveling west by stage to meet her fiancé, Rock Hudson, who plays a former confederate soldier by the name of Ben Warren. Warren now owns a ranch in California and all the two of them want to do is forget the war and settle down near the ocean. Also on the stage is Phil Carey (you remember him as Asa Buchanan on “One Life to Live;” and years earlier as Philip Marlowe on an ABC TV series). Carey plays Frank Slayton, an “unreconstructed” Southerner who’s pretty ticked off on the way the war turned out. He’s immediately attracted to Donna Reed, though. She represents the kind of southern woman of good breeding he’d always hoped to settle down with some day. He tries to ingratiate himself with her but she gives him the cold shoulder.

Also on the coach is the lantern-jawed Leo Gordon, who has played bad guys in more westerns than you can shake a stick at. He plays Jess Burgess, Frank’s partner. The stage stop for the night at a relay station with a hotel and Ben arrives to claim his bride-to-be, much to Slayton’s chagrin. At dinner we have some character development in which we learn Ben had enough social interaction during the war and now just wants to mind his own business and settle down with Jennifer and ignore the rest of the world. After spending the night in the hotel (in separate rooms, of course) they climb back on the stage next morning, only to be attacked by an escort of Union troops, who shoot the driver and shotgun. Turns out Frank and and Jess are stage coach robbers and the soldiers are really members of Slate’s gang. They killed the real soldiers and took their uniforms. There’s some gun fury action and Ben is shot and left for dead. Slayton and his gang run off with the gold and the girl.

So far, not a bad set up. The first cliché’d plot twist comes right after that, however, when we see Old Ben isn’t as dead as Slayton thought he was. It’s the old “merely a nick on the side of the head” routine. He’s pretty upset, though, when he finds his fiancé has been kidnapped and he takes out after them. Meantime Slayton and his gang reach a hideout and Slayton and Jess get into a fight over the girl. Jess wants her left behind, otherwise she’ll cause trouble. Slayton wins the argument and Jess ends up left behind and hog-tied to a fence. Ben shows up a bit later and frees Jess and they make a deal to ride together. Ben wants his girl and Jess wants revenge and his share of the fortune he helped steal. It’s an unlikely alliance, but given that neither one of them have any alternative but to work together, it’s more or less believable.

They ride on and stop to the next town and ask the sheriff there for help. The lawman says it’s none of his concern; the robbery happened outside his jurisdiction. Rock’s isolationist philosophy of just minding his own affairs comes back to bite him in the butt. But he’s determined to get Jennifer back and Jess still wants his money. So they move on and there’s a lot of riding and some nice views of the Red Rock country around Sedona, Arizona, where the movie was filmed. Ben and Jess are soon joined by an Apache who wants revenge on Slayton and his gang for killing some of his people. The three of them eventually catch up with the gang, who have also kidnapped a Mexican girl that gang member Blackie (Lee Marvin) took a shine to. When Slayton realizes he’s being hunted not only by Ben Warren, (who he thought he had killed), but also by his old buddy Jess (who he’d left hog-tied to a fence), and an unknown Indian, well, it shakes him up.

Slayton and his gang are only a few miles from the Mexican border, he’s got to decide what to do fast. He comes up with the idea that they’ll trade Jennifer for Jess and everyone will go on his merry way. Whaaaat?? Make a deal with the guy you left hog-tied to a fence, and then suddenly give up your yen for the genteel southern belle you’ve always dreamed you’d settle down with, and gone to so much trouble to get? Just like that? And what about Jess? Does he really think he can get back in the gang and get his share of the loot, after Phil was so ticked off at him that he left him for dead, hog-tied to a fence? It’s obvious Slayton only wants to get Jess out in the open so he can plug him. How stupid is Jess to think it’s possible to make a deal like that? What kind of crazy deal is this anyway?

“Gun Fury” was not only directed by the legendary Raoul Walsh, who made many great films, the screenplay was written by two well-known pros—Irving Wallace and Roy Huggins. Are you telling me that these three couldn’t have come up with a more believable finish to this sagebrush potboiler? Couldn’t they see, when they got to shoot the final scenes, that the story was going off the rails? Couldn’t one of them have come up a more believable finish than the laughable prisoner exchange at the end? Hard to believe. But they totally wrecked what could have been a good action western. Was cocaine already that big a problem in Hollywood in 1953?

BY LEE PFEIFFER

First Run Features has released director Lucia Puenzo's acclaimed 2013 film "The German Doctor" on DVD. The movie is the highest profile Argentinian release in years and was honored at numerous international film festivals. Puenzo, who also wrote the screenplay, based on the film on her novel, which- in turn- is said to have been inspired by the real-life experiences of a family who interacted with the infamous Nazi war criminal Dr. Josef Mengele. During WWII, Mengele was known as "The Angel of Death" at Auschwitz. Here, he utilized his considerable medical skills for evil purposes, selecting who would live and die among the wretched masses who arrived daily at the death camp. Those who were spared were consigned to a living hell of torture and slave labor. The few children who were not put immediately to death were used as human guinea pigs in Mengele's bizarre and cruel medical experiments. He was obsessed with genetics in his goal of helping Hitler fulfill his ambition of creating a "Master Race". Mengele played a key role in attempting to manipulate pregnancies to ensure that only Aryan children would be born in nations under Nazi control. His bizarre theories have long been discredited by the mainstream medical establishment, particularly his obsession with twins. Mengele studied pairs of twin children through inhumane methods, often operating on them without any pain-killers. The few prisoners who interacted with him and managed to survive the war report that, for all his barbaric practices, Mengele had a calm, almost soothing demeanor that would often lull his victims into thinking he was a benign presence in the camp. He would pat children on the head and offer them candy, only to dispose of them like rubbish hours later. In the aftermath of the war and the chaos that ensued in Europe, Mengele managed to escape (along with many other Nazis) to South America. In his case, he found refuge in Argentina, where the corrupt government sheltered him, presumably in return for his "expertise" about how to fine-tune torture tactics. 

It is against this backdrop- what we inherently know about Mengele- that Puenzo's story begins. It is 1960 and we see Mengele (Alex Brendemuhl), using the assumed name of Helmut Gregor, lost on a remote country road. He has a chance encounter with a young couple, Eva (Natalia Oreiro) and Enzo (Diego Peretti), who are traveling with their three children. Mengele befriends the family, who consent to having him follow them in his car along the desolate roadways. Along the way, Mengele charms each member of the family and he explains that he is a doctor en route to an institute where he will be working. Coincidentally, the institute is very close to the family's destination, which is a resort hotel that they have inherited. The couple intends to reopen the hotel and hope to make a financial success of it. Enzo, it appears, has not been successful in financially providing for his family. He fancies himself an inventor and his real passion is creating a unique doll that can marketed to little girls. He finds a sympathetic ear from Mengele, who reinforces his bond with the family by becoming their first tenant at the hotel. Eva is immediately smitten by the charming German doctor but he seems more interested in the couple's oldest daughter, Lilith (Florencia Bado). Although twelve years-old, she is very short and slight of build, giving the impression she is much younger. This results in terrible bullying at the local school, where there are children of German ex-pats who are particularly cliquish and cruel to Lilith. Both Eva and Lilith are charmed by Mengele, who professes to help them by offering to inject Lilith with hormone injections that will spur her growth. Enzo is adamantly against the idea, but Eva secretly gives the doctor permission to proceed. Before long, Lilith is experiencing strange medical complications. Simultaneously, Mengele discovers that Eva is pregnant with twins. This smorgasbord of potential medical experiments excites him and before long, he has convinced Eva to also undergo some of his quack medical treatments. He has also ingratiated himself with Enzo by finding a financial backer who will mass produce Enzo's dolls. (A sequence set in a doll factory is brilliantly staged and genuinely eerie, with row after row of hollow-eyed dolls evoking memories of a death camp.)  However, when Enzo sees his wife and daughter suffering from mysterious illnesses, he begins to suspect that his new friend is really a villain. He is not alone. A local photographer (Elena Roger) is, in fact, an Israeli intelligence agent who also begins to believe that the seemingly benign and charming man of medicine may actually be one of the most wanted men in the world.  

"The German Doctor" plays out at a slow, deliberate pace that is refreshing in a film industry defined by fast-editing and mindless action sequences. The script allows each character to be fully developed and the relationships between the key players becomes fascinating, as Mengele uses psychological methods to manipulate his next victims. The performances are uniformly extraordinary, with Brandemuhl particularly impressive. Although portraying one of the most notorious criminals in history, he deftly manages to make him charming and likable, both necessary ingredients if we are to understand why the family he has befriended can be so easily manipulated by him. The film is engrossing throughout and, even though we know through history how Mengele finally met his fate, it doesn't deprive director Puenzo from milking a considerable amount of suspense from the scenario.

The First Run Pictures DVD offers an excellent transfer but is frustratingly devoid of any bonus materials. It would be a worthwhile ambition for the label to eventually put out a special edition of this excellent film with a commentary track that helps viewers understand the historical context of what they are seeing.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

To commemorate the 35th anniversary of Steven Spielberg's masterful "E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial", Universal has released a highly impressive edition comprising of Blu-ray, DVD and digital HD versions. The film has lost none of its wonder and timeless appeal and this gorgeous home video release makes it possible to re-live those great memories in appropriate style. (Some of us are old enough to remember being excited about the movie being released on VHS!) This limited edition is out of this world. 

Here is a description of the contents:

Combo Pack Includes Blu-ray + DVD + Digital HD* Over 3 Hours of Bonus Features! The E.T. Journals: Featuring behind the scenes footage from the filming of the movie, this featurette gives viewers a unique feeling of being on-set and living the excitement of what it was like to make E.T. (Blu-ray Exclusive) Steven Spielberg & E.T.: The director reflects back on the film and discusses his experience working with children as well as his overall and current perspective on E.T. Deleted Scenes A Look Back: A special insider’s look into the making of E.T. featuring interviews with Steven Spielberg, the cast, and others intimately involved with the film. The Evolution and Creation of E.T.: From idea to screenplay, through casting and making the film. The E.T. Reunion: The cast and filmmaker reunite to discuss their thoughts on the impact of the film. The Music of E.T. A Discussion with John Williams: Interviews and footage of the long-standing relationship between John Williams and Steven Spielberg. The 20th Anniversary Premiere: Composer John Williams played the score of E.T. live at the Shrine Auditorium for the re-release premier of E.T. This featurette gives us a behind the scenes look at this presentation.

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By Hank Reineke

Collectors and enthusiasts of the serials produced by Republic Pictures Corporation (1936-1955) have reason to rejoice. Save for the too occasional and often spotty rare film release, proprietary rights to the Republic’s vast back catalog from that studio’s “Golden Age” have mostly languished in the vaults. Then, with little fanfare, Paramount Pictures, Inc. - the company who had obtained the rights through a dizzying history of corporate takeovers and mergers - began to quietly make some of these moribund but treasured troves of rare films digitally available to fans in late 2015. Though streaming through the Youtube channel via the company’s Paramount Vault portal was not the platform that many of us had hoped for, it was a welcome turn of events and certainly better than nothing.

If nothing else it was a long time coming. Devotees of these decidedly nostalgic vintage chapter plays have too long been forced to enjoy these treasures via ropey and gauzy VHS rips from tattered 16mm film elements. Many collectors will recall the old days when the only conduit for tracking down copies was through the purchase of bootleg-market videotapes from mysterious and transient P.O. Box address-only sellers listed provocatively in back page classifieds of genre magazines.

The Adventures of Captain Marvel, now available on Blu-Ray via Kino/Lorber Studio Classics, is generally acknowledged as one of the finest and exciting serials. It’s also noteworthy as the titular Captain Marvel is the first comic book superhero to make it to the big screen with an equally big splash. The character Captain Marvel first appeared in the second issue of Whiz Comics in February of 1940. He quickly became the best-selling comic book superhero of the 1940s, his popularity partly due no doubt to the success of this Republic serial of 1941. On the printed page, Captain Marvel would face down many enemies, but in real life his greatest nemesis might have been the creators of Superman. The man from Krypton, of course, made an earlier debut in Action Comics in June of 1938.

With his leotards, tall boots, cape, whisk of black hair, gift of flight and apparent invincibility, there was something about Captain Marvel that seemed uncomfortably too similar and oddly familiar to Superman’s copyright holders – and soon the inevitable teams of lawyers were brought in to sort it all out. The litigation lasted for years and years, but within a year of the character’s creation Republic Pictures had already brought The Adventures of Captain Marvel successfully to the big screen. In contrast, Columbia Picture’s Superman serial (starring Kirk Alyn as the big screen’s first man from Krypton) would not be released until 1948.

In some small way, you can hold some degree of sympathy for the litigious maneuverings of Superman’s copyright holders. Much like the fabled “Man of Steel,” Captain Marvel was similarly styled in appearance and powers and hid behind the protection of a secretive dual identity. He could also fly, withstand a barrage of gunfire, and bend steel bars in his bare hands. In some small ways the Fawcett Publications superhero was different. Though it takes a good dose of rare Kryptonite to bring down the mighty Superman, in The Adventures of Captain Marvel it seemingly only takes a good jolt of electricity to – if only temporarily - incapacitate our hero. In any event, the popularity of The Adventures of Captain Marvel would cause Republic to return to the wellspring of their success. Throughout the 1940s the studio would produce a score of serials featuring pop-culture characters licensed from the pages of comic books: these iconic films would introduce young moviegoers to the first celluloid adventures of Dick Tracy, Red Ryder, Spy Smasher, Captain America, The Lone Ranger and Zorro.