By Hank Reineke

Mario Bava’s The Whip and the Body would enjoy a very brief run – under a new title - on U.S. theatre screens in late summer of 1965. By spring of ‘66 the film was already popping up as a late-night programmer on U.S. television. I was belatedly introduced to the film via a Chiller Theatre telecast on New York’s WPIX-TV, circa 1971/72. I can no longer recall if I was impressed by this atmospheric, mostly monster-less mystery on that first viewing. I was only ten or eleven years of age. My hazy memories are further obscured by it having been broadcast under its U.S. theatrical re-title as What.

The name of now-legendary director Mario Bava wouldn’t have meant very much to me either at young age. Even if I had been familiar with Bava’s oeuvre – which I most certainly wasn’t at age ten – the directorial credit of What had been anglicized, ascribed to one “John M. Old.” The directorial fake wouldn’t have mattered much to me, really. All I knew was Christopher Lee was one of the film’s star players, and I was already a big fan of the actor’s horror pictures.

Regardless of the film title in which you accustomed - The Whip and the Body/ Night is the Phantom/What/The Whip and the Flesh/La frusta e il Corpo etc. etc. - this was the second of two Bava films to feature Christopher Lee. The first was Ercole al centro della terra (1961, aka Hercules in the Haunted World), an Italian peplum. That film pitted the heroic Hercules (Reg Park) against Lee’s villainous Lichas (or Lyco or Lico, depending on the release). Lichas is variously described as “Lord of the Hades Underworld” or “King of the Dead.”

The actor’s typecasting made sense, all things considered. Lee had once enjoyed playing a diverse number of character roles since his 1947 entry into the film business. But following the runaway success of Hammer’s Horror of Dracula (1958), the actor somewhat frustratingly found himself mostly employed as a heavy in an on-going string of horror films, fog-shrouded mysteries, and psychological-thrillers.

Lee would later generously deem Bava as “one of Italy’s greatest cameramen” and, true to form, both Hercules in the Haunted World and The Whip and the Body, are awash in the eerily brilliant and fluorescent colors for which the director is acclaimed. Technically, the cinematographer for the latter film is Ubaldo Terzano, but much of the photography is accepted as Bava’s own, albeit uncredited. Bava’s greatness partly lies in his painter’s eye for style: he combines color, shadows and shadings to create atmosphere and great imagery.

As director, Bava also employs innovative lighting and lots of blue-tinting to create his striking, imaginative visuals. On his wonderful commentary track, author Tim Lucas describes such eerie colorization as Bava’s moonlit “Blue of Night.” Throughout The Whip and the Body, Bava’s visual stylings perfectly reflect the film’s moody and atmospheric aura. His use of purposeful slow tracking shots and pan photography – abetted by composer Carlo Rustichelli’s evocative, mysterious score – masterfully evokes a sense of tangible, shadowy foreboding: who (or what?) lurks behind that candle-lit curtain or door?

The Whip and the Body concerns the unwelcome return of Kurt Menliff (Lee) to his ancestral home, a castle nestled on lonesome cliff side overlooking the sea. His own father, Count Vladimir (Jacques Herlin) is not pleased to see him nor is Giorgia (Harriet White), the Count’s servant. Years earlier, we learn, Kurt had seduced Giorgia’s daughter. His subsequent cruel rejection of the girl is believed to be the cause of her suicide. Although Kurt’s bother Christian (Tony Kendall) is welcoming of his brother’s return, he too will come to regret such forgiveness. His own wife Nevenka (Israeli actress Daliah Lavi) falls prey to Kurt’s Svengali-like attraction – who, true to form, abuses and degrades her with a fetishistic, sadomasochistic whipping. I can’t say much more than that plot-wise without risking spoilers. So I’ll just say that following Kurt’s attack on Nevenka, the film moves from straight-on melodrama to a mostly satisfying scenario combining elements of ghost story and mystery whodunit.

Budgeted at approx. $66, 500, The Whip and the Body began production in July of 1960. The film was slated for a seven-week schedule. Principal photography wrapped in six-weeks, the seventh to begin post-production work. The film was an Italian/French collaboration, a production of Cosmopolis Films and Les Films Marbeuf. Both companies had been involved in the exploitation of the then very-much-in-vogue “sword and sandal” pictures: strongman adventures loosely tethered to tales sourced from Greek and Roman mythologies. On his commentary track, Lucas describes the scenario of The Whip and the Body as essentially akin to “a Greek Tragedy” in its construction.

The film’s screenplay is credited to Ernesto Gastaldi, Ugo Guerra and Luciano Martino, with the film produced (without credit) to Federico Magnaghi. Upon the film’s release in English-speaking markets the writing credits for the original Italian trio were anglicized as “Julian Berry, Robert Hugo and Martin Hardy.” Bava too did not escape such name-change ignominy, his directorial credit ascribed to “John M. Old,” a pseudonym used on several of his films. The time-period and country in which this Gothic mystery is set is indeterminate. This was, according to scenarist Gastaldi, entirely intentional. Though the seaside locations were filmed in Italy near Anzio, the main characters are given Eastern European-sounding names and the set dressing peculiarly mixes period styles and time-dates.

A prolific screenwriter of horror, pirate and peplum films, Ernesto Gastaldi had already written scripts for such Italian melodramas as The Vampire and the Ballerina (1960), Werewolf in a Girls’ Dormitory (1961), and The Horrible Dr. Hichcock (1962). Following production on The Whip and the Body, producer Magnaghi would team with writers Guerra and Martino (in addition to writer-director Brunello Rondi) to bring Daliah Lavi back in the obscure but sultry exorcism flick II Demonio (1963).

 

The Whip and the Body was not a huge success. Lucas describes the film as Bava’s “biggest box-office flop,” the picture’s final tally generating back only half of its investment. Upon the film’s release, critics gave any number of reasons why the film’s box-office was disappointing. Variety was mildly impressed, describing the film as genuinely suspenseful if best suited for “sophisticated audiences.” But the trade also thought the film flawed in execution: “The Gothic-novel atmosphere and trappings of secret passages, muddy footprints from the crypt and ghost lover, probably will draw more laughs than gasps.”

London’s Monthly Film Bulletin was far more withering in its assessment of Night is the Phantom (the film’s British re-title). Their critic described it as “Another of Italy’s prankish simulations of a British horror movie, the film is slow, repetitive, verging on parody. Censor or distributor cuts have rendered much of the plot incomprehensible, though one doubts if it ever made sense entirely.” In fairness, the same critic conceded the film’s “weird and doom-laden claustrophobia” was, in retrospect, “unfailingly compulsive, mainly because of the redolent Freudian associations.”

The more uncomfortable Freudian moments of Menliff’s fetishistic abuse of Nevenka were cut from the film’s continental version. Christopher Lee only reminisced that he and Lavi shared “some very torrid love scenes” in the making of the film, but left it at that. Most of those scenes would not be made privy to either continental or western cinemagoers. Upon the film’s initial release in Italy, that country’s censors would come down hard on it, deeming several sequences obscene due to “degenerations and anomalies of sexual life.” There were demands that these moments be cut from the film. Though the filmmakers complied in making such trims, producer Magnaghi still found himself standing before a Rome court. He was subsequently acquitted of obscenity charges in January of 1964.

Though Lucas does bring up the censorship issues surrounding The Whip and the Body, he does not make the issue a centerpiece of his commentary. He does points out in his very informative analysis that the film was very much influenced by the earliest of Roger Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe productions for American-International. Which, in turn, had been very much styled after such continental productions as Bava’s Black Sunday (1960).

Though A.I.P. had distributed earlier works of Bava’s in the U.S., they balked on The Whip and the Body – likely due to the film’s sadomasochistic salaciousness. Though mild by today’s standards, the film was thought unsuitable for young and impressionable theatergoers. The film was eventually picked up for U.S. distribution in 1965 by Richard G. Yates’ Futuramic Releasing. The film, now curiously re-titled as What, was doomed to play the U.S. drive-in circuit in the summer of 1965. Accompanied by a rather gray and cheapish exploitation campaign, What was top-bill to a second Futuramic import from the continent, Isidore M. Ferry’s Face of Terror (Spain, 1964) (original title La cara del terror).

One needn’t be a particularly avid fan of Christopher Lee (or any of the others on screen) to notice that all dialogue is dubbed throughout. As with many of Bava’s films, his work was intended for wide international release. To that end, many of his films were shot sans sync-sound, with foreign-language market dubbing scheduled long after the original cast had moved on. Upon viewing The Whip and the Body, Lee was left aghast by his character’s misplaced American-affected voice-over dub. He would insist afterward that all of his foreign-language film contracts included the proviso he handle any necessary dubbing himself.

This Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu-ray issue of The Whip and the Body is the company’s second issue of this title, the first being released in 2013. The set features a 2023 4K scan and a 2K restoration by 88 Films from an HD master from an original 35mm print. The set includes both the original Italian and English dubs as audio options as well as optional English subtitles and the film’s theatrical trailer as well as trailers from other Bava films. As referenced above, Tim Lucas of Video Watchdog fame and author of the exhaustive one-thousand plus page tome Mario Bava: All the Colors of the Dark delivers a masterful commentary – though one familiar as it has been ported over from Kino’s 2013 Blu-ray release via VCI’s DVD issue of 2007. The new release is also fitted with the now inevitable cardboard sleeve protector, which apparently are prized by some collectors.. Without question, essential viewing for fans of Bava and Christopher Lee.

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By Hank Reineke

Technically speaking, OSS 117 secret agent Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath is not a James Bond knock off. The creation of wildly prolific French author Jean Bruce, the first literary adventure of the spy arrived in 1949 with the publication of Tu parles d'une ingénue (Ici OSS 117). This would pre-date the April 1953 publication of the first Ian Fleming James Bond novel, Casino Royale, by nearly four years. In the years following the publication of that first 007 thriller to his last in 1965, Fleming would deliver an impressive thirteen James Bond novels and nine short stories.

In contrast, Jean Bruce would publish no fewer (and possibly more) than eighty-eight to ninety OSS 117 pulp-adventures between 1949 and March of 1963, the month and year of his passing. It’s difficult to determine how many of Bruce’s novels were of his composition alone. His widow, Josette – and later a teaming of the Bruce’s son and daughter – would continue the pulp series into the early 1990s. So determined bibliophiles will have their work cut out for them if they wish to track down all of the 250+ published OSS 117 novels.

If OSS 117 beat James Bond to the stalls of book-sellers, he also managed to beat him to the cinema screen. Two OSS 117 films were released throughout Western Europe and foreign markets in 1957 and 1960: OSS 117 n'est pas mort (OSS 117 is not Dead) and Le bal des espions (Danger in the Middle East). The latter title, interestingly, does not feature “Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath.” Though based on one of Bruce’s OSS 117 novels, a messy rights-issue prevented the filmmakers to use the central character’s moniker. These earliest films, produced as routine crime dramas by differing production companies (and featuring different actors in the title role), came and went without attention nor fanfare.

But in 1963 Bruce’s OSS 117 character was resurrected as a cinematic property following the success of Terence’s Young’s Dr. No, the first James Bond screen adventure. The spy pictures comprising Kino Lorber’s OSS 117 Five Film Collection are tailored as pastiches of the popular James Bond adventures of the 1960s. This new Blu ray set features the entirety of OSS 117 film thrillers produced 1963 through 1968 during the height of Bondmania. And, just as the Eon series offered a trio of actors to portray James Bond (1962-1973), the OSS series would likewise present three in the role of Colonel Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath. Each actor would bring some aspect of their own personalities to their characterizations.

Of course, the name Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath is a bit of a Franco-linguistic mouthful to market successfully overseas. So, throughout the five films the character usually assumes an Anglo-friendly alias which helps move things along a bit more smoothly: he alternately assumes – among others - such covert surnames as Landon, Barton, Delcroix, Wilson and Mulligan. It certainly makes his character’s many “personal” on-screen introductions easier for all involved.

The Kino set starts off chronologically with 1963’s OSS 117 is Unleashed (original title OSS 117 se déchaîne). Like the four films to follow, the series were all Franco-Italia co-productions and distributed by Gaumont Films. Unlike those four, OSS 117 is Unleashed is filmed in black-and-white. The monochrome photography is not really an issue. But cinemagoers were certainly cheated of enjoying the beautiful beaches and Cliffside scenery of the village of Bonifacio (off the Corsican strait) in vibrant color.

In OSS 117 is Unleashed our hero (American actor Kerwin Mathews, best known to American audiences for his roles in Ray Harryhausen’s special-effect laden epics The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) and The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), is sent to Corsica to investigate the suspicious death of a fellow agent. We’re told, suspiciously, there’s been, “lots of accidents among agents near Bonifacio.” A preamble to the film, culled mostly of cold war era newsreel footage, alerts that an unspecified enemy is working towards “neutralizing” free-world atomic submarine movements in the area. With conspirators tagged with such names as “Sacha” and “Boris,” we can reasonably assume its east-of-the-Iron Curtain intelligence agents behind the plot.

Initially posing as a relative of the recently targeted and now deceased CIA frogman (and later as a Lloyds of London insurance adjustor), Mathews must dispatch and/or fend off a series of enemy agents and perhaps a duplicitous woman. In due course, he survives a poisoning, several (well-choreographed) hand-to-hand combat sequences and even a submerged spear-gun and knifing frogman attack. The latter occurs while he’s search of a mysterious submerged subterranean grotto. The base is outfitted (as one might expect) with high-tech equipment and a detection system designed to bring about “the end of atomic submarines.” The secreted grotto is also equipped with a built-in self-destruct button… always handy, just in case. This is all definitely Bond-on-a budget style filmmaking. Of course, the idea of covertly tracking atomic submarines movements brings to mind the storyline of the far-more-lavishly staged The Spy Who Loved Me (1977).

As far as I can determine, OSS 117 is Unleashed was never released theatrically in the U.S. But Mathews’ second (and final) outing as OSS 117, Panic in Bangkok (Banco à Bangkok pour OSS 117) (1964) would have a belated release in the U.S. (as Shadow of Evil) in December of 1966. Regardless, Shadow of Evil was not exhibited as a primary attraction in the U.S. market. It most often appeared as the under bill to Christopher Lee in The Brides of Fu Manchu or (more sensibly) to Montgomery Clift’s political suspense-thriller The Defector.

In Panic in Bangkok, Mathews is dispatched to Thailand to, once again, investigate the assassination of a fellow agent. The murdered CIA operative had been investigating a possible correlation between anti-cholera vaccines produced by Bangkok’s Hogby Laboratories to an outbreak of a deadly plague in India. The trail leads Mathews to suspect a certain mysterious Dr. Sinn (Robert Hossein) is somehow involved. Unlike the previous film which lacked a singular villain with a foreboding presence (ala Dr. No), the filmmakers offer cinemagoers a more exotic adversary in Dr. Sinn.

Edited by Stephen Jones

Illustrated by Randy Broecker

Published by Drugstore Indian Press (imprint of PS Publishing)

May 2023

512 pages

Paperback

ISBN: 9781786368997

RRP: £15.99

Review by Adrian Smith

If, like me, you love old movies, the chances are high that a love for the thrilling pulp magazines of the 1950s can’t be far behind. Robert Silverberg, now an award-winning science fiction author, was one of the most prolific writers (allegedly averaging around 1 million words a year) for dozens of magazines throughout that decade including Super-Science Fiction, Monster Parade, Fantastic and Monsters and Things, amongst many more. Capable of seemingly churning out stories in any genre he turned his hand to (including pornography when required), these short tales were designed to be read once and then forgotten once the next issue came along. Of course, what was once disposable is now highly sought-after and original copies of many of these short-lived magazines are out of reach to us mere mortals. Thankfully the almost equally prolific writer and editor Stephen Jones has compiled a representative sample of Silverberg’s horror and sci-fi stories published between 1957 and 1959 for this excellent new collection published by Drugstore Indian Press, accompanied by suitably retro illustrations from American artist Randy Broeker.

Most of the stories are just a few pages long, so no time is wasted before the thrills and chills set in. From premature burials, mad doctors, demons, werewolves, vampires and ghouls to aliens, global conspiracies, sinister cults and outer space adventures, the stories pack a pulp punch and are all very enjoyable, especially the ones with twist endings that would not be out of place in an episode of The Twilight Zone. With titles including ‘Secrets of the Torture Cult,’ ‘Beasts of Nightmare Horror’ and ‘Vampires from Outer Space’ (a precursor to Colin Wilson’s The Space Vampires perhaps?), Silverberg's imagination was extraordinary, producing a continual stream of stories, often published under pseudonyms so that it didn’t look like he’d written the entire magazine. In his introduction to this collection (he’s still with us, at the ripe old age of 89!), he discusses his early career and his need to keep the [were]wolf from the door by writing anything he could get paid for, and it was clearly good preparation for the highly-respected novels which would earn him fame later on.

Given the sheer number of short stories Silverberg produced, one can only hope that another collection from Drugstore Indian Press is on its way. These are really fun, pulpy stories that remind us of all of another era; when guys called Skip drove hot rods, when Big Jack hosted late-night talk shows about the occult on stations like WYXD, and when teenage librarians like Marty could accidentally raise the old gods using a stolen copy of the Necronomicon. Robert Silverberg’s Monsters and Things belongs on the shelf of any discerning 1950s nostalgia junkie.

Robert Silverberg’s Monsters and Things can be ordered from Amazon UK here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Monster-Things-Paperback-Robert-Sliverberg/dp/1786368994

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Corman/ Poe: Interviews and Essays Exploring the Making of Roger Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe Films, 1960-1964

By Chris Alexander

Foreword by Roger Corman

Headpress paperback
Size: 235mm x 191mm
Pages: 150
105 colour and B&W stills images

ISBN: 978-1-915316-07-3

Retail Price: UK £22.99 / US $27.95

Review by Adrian Smith

The early 1960s was a boom time for gothic horror films. Spurred on by the Hammer Films one-two punch of Curse of Frankenstein (1957) and Dracula (1958), film companies around the world fell over themselves to produce films set in cobweb-strewn castles and mist-enshrouded graveyards. Directors such as Mario Bava and Antonio Margheriti made several Italian gothics, frequently starring Christopher Lee or Barbara Steele, but no one director had such a successful run as Roger Corman, who in the space of five years brought us an incredible series of eight films adapted from the disturbed writing of Edgar Allan Poe: The Fall of the House of Usher (1960), The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), Premature Burial, Tales of Terror, (both 1962), The Haunted Palace, The Raven (both 1963), Masque of the Red Death and The Tomb of Ligeia (both 1964). All but one starred Vincent Price, and they also featured the talents of Ray Milland, Boris Karloff, Peter Lorre, Basil Rathbone, Barbara Steele (again, proving she was a gothic icon on both sides of the Atlantic), Hazel Court, and even a young Jack Nicholson.

In this new book, the first dedicated solely to these films, Fangoria's Chris Alexander has interviewed Roger Corman (a mere 97 years old, with a pin-sharp memory) at length on each one of these low- budget gems, discussing the themes, the productions, his love-hate relationship with American International Pictures, the cast and crew, and much more. He reflects thoughtfully on his collaborative relationship with Vincent Price, who he rightly describes as a “brilliant actor,” and he is not too proud of his own achievements to acknowledge the important contribution of others, including writer Richard Matheson, who he says was, “One of the finest writers I’ve ever had the chance to work with,” crediting him “for much of the success of those early Poe pictures.” Also featured in the book is a critical appraisal for each film and a wealth of archival material, including a full-colour international poster gallery and censorship documents related to the most controversial of them all, Masque of the Red Death.

Roger Corman is one of the most prolific directors and producers we have ever had, and as such there is always more to be said about his work. Corman/ Poe is an essential addition to the growing Corman library.

For an exclusive hardback edition go to https://headpress.com/product/corman-poe/

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“The Exorcist Legacy: 50 Years of Fear” by Nat Segaloff (Kensington Publishing, $28) 304 pages, Illustrated (B&W), Hardback, ISBN: 978-0-8065-4194-5

By Todd Garbarini

As long as there are films and film criticism, one of the most debated aspects of recent memory is whether or not film director William Friedkin’s 1973 masterwork The Exorcist is a horror film or not. The very question could perplex average readers who might feel that that the inquiry itself is completely ludicrous and make one ponder how the image of a young girl vomiting pea soup from her bed or the face of a white-faced demon flashing manically before our eyes could be considered anything but horror. Despite this, neither did the novel’s author William Peter Blatty, nor the film’s director set out to make a horror film at all. Instead, The Exorcist, largely considered by many to be one of the most (if not the most) terrifying films ever made, was fashioned to be a serious study about the mystery of faith.

Coming upon the fiftieth anniversary of the film’s release – yes, you read that right – a new book entitled The Exorcist Legacy: 50 Years of Fear is now available and places the story about the phenomenon of the novel, the controversial film and their inevitable sequels and prequels, definitively and squarely in our laps. Penned by longtime Friedkin champion and prolific author of many other film books Nat Segaloff, who wrote the excellent Hurricane Billy: The Stormy Life and Films of William Friedkin (1990), The Exorcist Legacy is an absolute must-read for adherents of the novel and film. With a foreword by horror film writer John Russo of Night of the Living Dead fame, author Segaloff takes us back to the beginning on how a 1966 meeting between Friedkin and director Blake Edwards – and the former’s vituperative assessment of a Peter Gunn screenplay – led to an introduction to and lifelong friendship between Friedkin and Blatty; Warner Brothers and their initial reluctance to hire Friedkin until the release of his brilliant The French Connection in 1971 garnered sudden critical and financial success and changed the game completely; the original 1949 real-life case of an ostensibly possessed Maryland boy; Blatty’s writing of the novel; the making of the film; a multitude of issues that beset the film’s production giving way to the supposed “curse” on the set; the controversy surrounding the release of the film; in-depth looks at the much-maligned Exorcist II: The Heretic (1977) and the superior The Exorcist III (1990), the latter both written and directed by Blatty; and the prequels and television series.

Segaloff, who was Publicity Director for the Sack Theater chain in Boston, provides personal insights into the marketing challenges pertaining to the film, as he worked with Friedkin and Warner Brothers to open the film at the showplace Cinema 57, one of only 22 theatres that initially played the movie nationwide. Writing in a very down-to-earth style with new interviews and meticulously researched details, The Exorcist Legacy is simultaneously entertaining and informative and is the new go-to reference book for all things related to the phenomenon with a fresh look from real life to reel life.

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By Ernie Magnotta

Italian writer/director Fernando Di Leo has had quite a prolific career. Between 1964 and 1985, he directed 17 films (including 1971’s Slaughter Hotel, 1972’s Caliber 9 and 1973’s The Boss) and wrote/co-wrote many screenplays (including contributions to Sergio Leone’s A Fistful of Dollars and For A Few Dollars More). Recently, one of his last directorial efforts, The Violent Breed, was finally released on Blu-ray.

The Violent Breed aka Razza Violenta follows ‘nam vet Mike Martin (Harrison Muller, 2020 Texas Gladiators) who is sent to Southeast Asia by CIA head Kirk Cooper (Henry Silva, Sharkey’s Machine) in order to take out a dangerous drug lord named Polo (Woody Strode, Sergeant Rutledge).

Solidly directed by Di Leo (who also co-wrote with Nino Marino), The Violent Breed, although not in the same league as similar films by action icons Schwarzenegger, Stallone and Norris, is an enjoyable 80s action film which is definitely worth checking out. The movie also features the lovely Carole Andre (The Bloodstained Butterfly), and a memorable score from Paolo Rustichelli (Urban Warriors).

The Violent Breed has been released on a region one Blu-ray, comes from a brand new 2K master, and is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. The disc boasts clear images (but the audio is a bit low in a few spots) and also contains English subtitles, the original theatrical trailer as well as trailers for the films The Last Hunter; The Violent Professionals; Street Law; Seven Blood-stained Orchids and Blastfighter.

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On September 27, the Australian video company Imprint/ViaVision will release a 4-film box set showcasing films starring George Peppard. Here are the details:

With his dashing good looks and irresistible charm, George Peppard became one of the most iconic actors of the 1960s. 

Enjoy four forgotten gems from his prolific career for the first time on Blu-ray in Australia:

• P.J. (1968)
• Pendulum (1969)
• The Executioner (1970) – Worldwide first on Blu-ray!
• Newman’s Law (1974)

Limited Edition 4-Disc Hardbox. 1500 copies only.

P.J. (1968) – Imprint Collection #252

Peppard faces off against Raymond Burr (Rear Window) when he becomes entangled in an affair with deadly consequences in P.J.

Private eye P.J. Detweiler is reluctant to protect the mistress of a millionaire from attacks by his client’s wife and greedy family. In truth, P.J. is walking into a deadly intrigue in which he is to play a central part. 

Special Features & Technical Specs:

• 1080p High-definition presentation on Blu-ray from a 2K scan
• NEW Audio Commentary by film historian & author Toby Roan
• Audio Commentary by critics Howard S. Berger and Steve Mitchell
• NEW Interview with author & screenwriter Courtney Joyner on the career of director John Guillermin
• NEW Video essay on George Peppard & John Guillermin 
• Theatrical Trailer
• Original Aspect Ratio 2.35:1
• Audio English LPCM 2.0 Mono

Pendulum (1969) – Imprint Collection #253

George Peppard embarks on a relentless quest for justice in this thrilling classic.

Cynical Washington, DC, police captain Frank Matthews risked his life to catch a young rapist and murderer. But the psychopath is set free when a civil liberties’ attorney proves to the Supreme Court that Matthews never read the killer his rights. When Matthews’ wife is found murdered alongside her lover, and he becomes the prime suspect, Matthews decides his best option is to capture the real killer himself.

Special Features & Technical Specs:

• 1080P High-definition presentation on Blu-ray
• Special Features TBC
• Aspect Ratio 1.85:1
• Audio English LPCM 2.0 Mono

The Executioner (1970) – Imprint Collection #254

Worldwide first on Blu-ray!

Joan Collins, Keith Mitchell and Judy Geeson also star in The Executioner, the nail-biting thriller and worldwide first on Blu-ray.

When a covert operation in Vienna goes awry, British Intelligence operative John Shay suspects his colleague, Adam Booth, may be a double agent. Appointing himself executioner, Shay kills Booth and then assumes his identity to obtain conclusive evidence that Booth was a traitor.

Special Features & Technical Specs:

• 1080P High-definition presentation on Blu-ray
• Special Features TBC
• Aspect Ratio 2.35:1
• Audio English LPCM 2.0 Mono

Newman’s Law (1974) – Imprint Collection #255

The creator of Banacek, Anthony Wilson, and George Peppard reunite in the gritty police drama Newman’s Law.

When a hard-nosed LA cop is booted from duty after being falsely accused of extortion, he goes rogue to investigate an organised crime case, uncovering a conspiracy that might extend to the highest levels of his own department. 

Special Features & Technical Specs:

• 1080p High-definition presentation on Blu-ray from a 2K scan
• NEW Audio Commentary by film historian Steve Mitchell and producer/screenwriter Cyrus Voris
• NEW Interview with director Jeff Burr on the career of director Richard T. Heffron
• Radio Spots
• Theatrical Trailer
• Aspect Ratio 1.85:1
• Audio English LPCM 2.0 Mono

Any pre-order titles will be dispatched in the week leading up to its aforementioned release date. Special features and artwork are subject to change.

Imprint limited editions tend to sell out quickly. Click here to pre-order. (Prices are in Australian dollars. Use  a currency converter to see what the price is in your local currency.) The Blu-ray set is Region-Free. 

Actor Treat Williams, the ruggedly handsome star of feature films and television, has died from injuries incurred in an accident while he was riding a motorcycle. The incident, which is still under investigation, occurred in rural Vermont, where Williams had resided in recent years. An SUV had apparently crossed the road in front of Williams, who was unable to avoid a collision. Williams was 71 years-old. He had gained prominence in the film industry in the late 1970s by scoring the leading role in director Milos Forman's 1979 screen adaptation of the Broadway sensation "Hair". In 1981, he won praise for his starring role in Sidney Lumet's true-life crime film "Prince of the City". Other major films included "Deep Rising", "Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead" and "Hollywood Ending". He later starred in the hit TV series "Everwood". For more, click here.

By Lee Pfeiffer

“Noir Bar” by Eddie Muller (Running Press) 228 Pages, Illustrated (B&Wand color); Hardback. ISBN: 9780762480623

If you’re a fan of all things related to Film Noir, you’re probably quite familiar with Eddie Muller, who is known as the Noir Czar. Muller’s passion for the genre is well-known and his influence in keeping Noir in vogue is widespread. He founded the Film Noir Foundation in 2005, through which he hosts popular film festivals. He’s also a regular host on Turner Classic Movies’ presentations of Noir movies, always nattily attired and giving viewers tips on how dress in real Noir style. He’s also a prolific author who we interviewed about his landmark book “Dark City”, which is the seminal book on the subject. One would think he’s covered every conceivable angle in regard to analyzing the genre but he’s pulled another rabbit out of his hat with the release of “Noir Bar”, an infectious and clever advisory about how to properly prepare cocktails inspired by Noir films. Thus, we have recipes related to specific film titles including The Asphalt Jungle, The Big Sleep (the original, of course!) and more obscure gems such as Decoy. As the press release points out, “Rita Hayworth is toasted with a Sailor Beware, an original concoction which, like the film that inspired it, The Lady from Shanghai, is unique, complex, and packs a wallop.” But there’s more…much more. In addition to enticing close-ups of the concoctions, there is an abundance of superb B&W stills and colourful movie posters. It’s the stuff that dreams are made of…and also hangovers. Highly recommended even for teatotallers.

Sample recipe:

BLACK MANHATTAN INSPIRED BY SIDE STREET

What could be more appropriate to this film than a Black Manhattan, a noir twist on the most classic of whiskey-based cocktails?

COUPE GLASS, chilled

MIXING GLASS, strained

2 ounces rye whiskey

1 ounce Averna amaro

Dash Angostura bitters

Dash orange bitters

Garnish Luxardo Maraschino cherries

NOTES: I garnish this with at least two cherries on a cocktail skewer. Since you can’t see the cherries in the drink, rest the skewer on the lip of the glass. Getting Luxardo cherries on a skewer takes finesse; you don’t want the sticky syrup on your fingers. Use a barspoon to fish up a cherry, hold it against the inside lip of the jar, and gently pierce the fruit, using the spoon to push it to the middle of the skewer. Repeat with one or two more cherries. Wipe the excess off the skewer with a napkin before setting it across the glass.

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By Fred Blosser

Scores of modestly budgeted, black-and-white Noir movies about gangsters, cops, private eyes, and murderous love affairs were produced in France in the 1950s, but only a few crossed the Atlantic in dubbed prints. Some were dumped in second-run movie houses, where they were often labeled and advertised “for adults only,” emphasising their sexual content (tame now but steamy back then, when TV routinely depicted married couples in separate beds). I discussed one such Noir, released in France in 1959 as “Du Rififi Chez Les Femmes” and in the U.S. in 1962 as “Riff Raff Girls,” HERE. In the later ‘60s, others were bundled with other foreign B-movies for broadcast on local television stations, hardly a prestigious showcase either. Coming off the midnight shift, a bleary-eyed factory worker might see the end of an Eddie Constantine movie with mediocre dubbing in a late-nite time slot, just before the station signed off for the night. With a mug that looked like a bad night on the town, Eddie was even more popular than Humphrey Bogart in the France of the Charles De Gaulle era, but his tough-guy pictures as wisecracking, two-fisted FBI agent Lemmy Caution hardly made a ripple here. To the extent Constantine and Caution are remembered in the U.S. at all, it’s because Eddie reprised the role in Jean-Luc Godard’s “Alphaville” (1965). But “Alphaville,” although wonderful, was a New Wave absurdist parody and not part of the original series.

Only with the advent of home video and social media since the 1990s have films like “Touchez Pas au Grisbi” (1954), “Bob Le Flambeur” (1956), “Any Number Can Win” (1963), and “Le Circle Rouge” (1970) been rescued from obscurity, packaged with care, and re-evaluated by a modern, more receptive audience. With many more pictures of this type yet to be rediscovered and restored, the release of “French Noir Collection” on Blu-ray is a step in the right direction. The Kino Lorber Studio Classics set includes three dramas that will be new to all but the most tenacious fans of the genre.

In “Speaking of Murder” (1957), Louis Bertain (Jean Gabin) seems to be a stolid, middle-aged Parisian whose garage caters to high-end customers. The appearance is deceiving. Louis, an ambitious high roller, needs more money than the garage earns. He makes it as the leader of a four-man theft ring, targeting deliveries of cash and securities at banks. The robberies are grab-and-run jobs, based on insider tips about delivery schedules, and carefully planned with the exacting attention to detail that fans expect from stories like this about heists. Louis and his partners Fredo, Pepito, and Raymond have been together for more than ten years, but fractures have begun to appear. The volatile Pepito (Lino Ventura) distrusts Fredo, who developed a bad case of the shakes on their last job. Worse, Pepito also has suspicious eyes on Louis’ younger brother, Pierre (Marcel Bozzuffi), a petty offender vulnerable to police pressure. For good measure, Louis is determined to retire after the next job, and we know how that usually turns out in gangster pictures. With a sliced-to-the-bone plot and almost documentarian black-and-white cinematography on the streets of Paris, the film is as good as the genre gets, even if it is saddled with a lacklustre title, apparently tacked on for release in English-speaking markets back in the day. “Speaking of Murder’ would lead you to expect a sedate episode of “Columbo” or “Murder, She Wrote,” not a hardboiled heist drama like this one. The original French title, “Le Rouge Est Mis,” or “The Red Is On” (referring to the light that comes on outside Louis’ garage when the gang meets there) isn’t any more compelling in direct translation. If Marcel Bozzuffi looks familiar, you probably remember his later role in a much more famous crime drama. In “The French Connection” (1971), the prolific French actor played Pierre Nicoli or “Frog Two,” the sniper who flees from Gene Hackman’s Popeye Doyle in William Friedkin’s iconic car and train chase.

The other two films in the Kino Lorber set follow the pattern of James M. Cain’s “The Postman Always Rings Twice” and “Double Indemnity,” in which murder results when one spouse cheats on another with an extramarital lover. In “Back to the Wall” (original title, “Le Dos au Mur,” 1958), Jacques (Gerard Oury), a wealthy construction tycoon, discovers that his wife Gloria (Jeanne Moreau) has resumed an old affair with Yves, a small-time actor. The vengeful millionaire assumes a false identity to blackmail the lovers and humiliate his errant wife. He doesn’t need the blackmail payments; he just wants to see her squirm. It isn’t a spoiler to note that Yves is murdered in the course of the scheme, since the film opens with Jacques disposing of his body. We presume that the millionaire was the murderer, but if so, how does that square with his extortion game, once it begins to unfold in a long back story we follow through Jacques’ eyes? In “Witness in the City” (“Un Témoin Dans La Ville,” 1959), another millionaire, Pierre, kills his mistress Jeanne by throwing her off a moving train. In turn, Jeanne’s husband Ancelin (Lino Ventura again—the Roy Scheider of French crime pictures) murders Pierre after the millionaire is acquitted in court for Jeanne’s death. Ancelin thinks he’s committed the perfect crime when he makes Pierre’s death scene look like a suicide instead of a murder, but as someone tells him, “No crime is perfect.” Ancelin becomes desperate when a cab driver sees him outside Pierre’s house, just before the dead man’s body is found. Since the driver was a witness, Ancelin decides he has to get rid of him too. The film reaches for the tension of an Alfred Hitchcock or Fritz Lang picture as Ancelin stalks the cabby, but doesn’t quite succeed; but then, nobody ever quite matched Hitchcock or Lang. Still, both it and “Back to the Wall” will be welcomed by suspense fans in search of obscure works in the genre, and both benefit from glistening nighttime scenes in actual Parisian locations. Nostalgists will enjoy the wet streets and neon at actual locations, the Midcentury interiors, trenchcoats—plenty of trenchcoats—and classic product placements in all three films. When was the last time, if ever, you saw an Esso sign?

The three movies, licensed from Gaumont Films, are presented in sharp, restored prints, with French voice tracks and crisp English subtitles. One of the two discs in the set contains “Speaking of Murder” alone, and the second contains the other two films. Trailers for “Speaking of Murder” and “Back to the Wall” are included. The Blu-ray can be ordered HERE.

Now, when can we see a Lemmy Caution Collection of comparable quality?

Fred Blosser is the author of "Sons of Ringo: The Great Spaghetti Western Heroes". Click here to order from Amazon)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Burt Bacharach, one of the most prolific musical talents in the modern history of the art form, has died from natural causes at age 94. Bacharach was a rare artist who was honored with Grammy, Oscar and Tony awards. His list of pop hits crossed the charts from easy listening to becoming major hits on rock radio stations. He had long and fruitful collaborations with lyricist Hal David and singer Dionne Warwick, who had some of the biggest hits of her career singing Bacharach songs. He had long feuds with both artists but would eventually reconcile with them. Movie buffs are well-acquainted with Bacharach's contributions to the music of the film industry beginning with his campy but beloved theme song "Beware of the Blob" for the 1958 early Steve McQueen sci-fi film. He wouldn't dwell in the "B" movie realm for long, however. He wrote the hit title theme for "What's New Pussycat"?, a major early career success for Tom Jones. He also wrote the classic title theme for "Alfie", which was sung in the film by Cher. However, both Dionne Warwick and Cilla Black would have hit cover versions of the song. Bacharach won two Oscars for the 1969 film "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" for both the musical composition and for the classic song "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head". He would also win a Best Song Oscar for "The Best That You Can Do",  the theme from the 1980s comedy "Arthur". Bacharach also composed "The Look of Love", one of the most recorded romantic songs of all time. The song appeared, perhaps improbably, in the madcap 1967 big screen spoof version of the first James Bond novel "Casino Royale". It was nominated for an Oscar, as well. The song inspired Mike Myers to create the Austin Powers character and films, which were heavily influenced by "Casino Royale". Bacharach did suffer a major career disappointment when he wrote the score for the ill-fated 1973 musical remake of "Lost Horizon", the failure of which was said to send him into a prolonged funk.

Bacharach was good to his word that he would never retire and continued to work almost to the end of his life, writing new songs and even performing with Elvis Costello and Dr. Dre, an indication of the timelessness and wide popularity of his work. For more about his life, click here.

(Margolin with Charles Bronson in the 1974 film "Death Wish".)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Actor and director Stuart Margolin has died at age 82. No details or cause of death have been released as of this writing. Margolin's professional credits began in the early 1960s. He quickly became and in-demand character actor appearing in popular shows such as "The Fugitive", "Love, American Style", "The Alfred Hitchcock Hour", "Bewitched", "The Monkees", "Gunsmoke", "M*A*S*H", "Hill Street Blues", "The X-Files", "NCIS" and many others. He was also a prolific director of stage and screen productions. On the big screen, Margolin had supporting roles in "Kelly's Heroes", "Death Wish", "The Stone Killer", "The Gambler", "Days of Heaven", and "S.O.B." among others. He is best-remembered, however, for his collaborations with James Garner, especially relating to the hit TV series "The Rockford Files" in which he made recurring appearances, winning two Emmy awards in the process. He also co-starred with Garner in two short-running series, "Nichols" and "Bret Maverick".

On a personal note, this writer knew Stuart Margolin from our days as members of The Players, the historic club for the arts in New York City. When I would encounter Stuart there, he was always a fun guy to chat with, as his long career ensured he had volumes of interesting and amusing anecdotes. I recall him discussing Charles Bronson's personality quirks. He had made both "The Stone Killer" and "Death Wish" with Bronson. Shortly after shooting a key scene with him for the latter film, he ran into Bronson in an airport lounge and had to introduce himself to him because Bronson's insulated personality allowed him to shut out people and things that weren't relevant to the moment. Stuart was a gold mine of information when it came to assisting Cinema Retro in our special issue devoted to the making of "Kelly's Heroes". I recall him joking about the zany antics of the cast and crew when they were "stranded" for an extended period of time filming in a remote area of Yugoslavia. He said that all-night poker games occurred regularly and one was so intense that the players barely looked up to see the moon landing that was being televised live. At the time I knew him, his old friend James Garner was suffering from a debilitating medical condition that he would never recover from. Stuart spoke about how much Garner's friendship meant to his career and to him personally. He kept in touch with Garner until the end of his life. He was a kind and giving man who will be missed by anyone who knew him.

Klubb Super 8/ Eken Press

384 pages

Hardback

Published 2021

ISBN:? 978-9198677201

RRP: £25

BY ADRIAN SMITH

If cinema made us believe anything back in the mid-twentieth century, it was that those Europeans were getting far more sex than the rest of us. From Brigitte Bardot to Sophia Loren, from I – a Woman to I am Curious, films from Europe were somehow more adult, more daring and sexier. There was an “Ooh La La!” factor when it came to European cinema, and audiences did not always differentiate between a challenging black and white French New Wave film or a ‘commedia sexy all'italiana’. If it came from the continent there was an assumption that you would get to see far more than in British or Hollywood films. Post-war it was primarily French and Italian films that dominated this market, but gradually Sweden took the crown and Stockholm became the sexy film capital of Europe. Whereas the sophisticated French and Italian women all wore heavy makeup and expensive lingerie and looked glamorous and unattainable, Swedish girls seemed to be fresher, down-to-earth and more natural. There was something of the girl next door about them, perhaps becoming a more realistic prospect for the average man in the audience.

Although Rickard Gramfors is keen to point out in this excellent new collection of film posters that Swedish cinema was not all with angst and existential anxiety, Ingmar Bergman’s Summer With Monika in 1953 was one of the first to make the rest of the world aware of this sexy northern European nation. This is perhaps because it was distributed in America under the title Monika – the Story of a Bad Girl. Swedish films increased in popularity throughout the fifties and sixties, although it was a change in censorship law in 1971 that finally saw Sweden become one of Europe’s most prolific hardcore pornography production centres. The country became so synonymous with sex that the word ‘Sweden’ would often be inserted into film titles from other countries to spice them up, from Bob Hope’s I’ll Take Sweden to the Italian mondo documentary Sweden Heaven and Hell (now best remembered for the origin of the ‘Mah-na-Mah-na’ song later used in The Muppets). This book features many such examples.

Do You Believe in Swedish Sin? also demonstrates that it was not all just sex: Sweden’s growing film industry also produced action films, westerns (known as Lingonberry westerns!), horror, sword-and-sandal, comedies and even the occasional ninja epic.

As has been remarked upon before in Cinema Retro, the art of the film poster is not what it used to be, and this fabulous collection from the archives of Klubb Super 8, a Swedish vintage distribution company, shows us many great examples of just how good poster art was. As well as Swedish posters there are also examples from around the world, from fantastic hand-painted Italian locanda that manage to make everything look like a gothic masterpiece to eye-catching posters from the grindhouses of 42^nd Street. This is a book that will have you seeking out many of the fabulous-looking films covered. Fortunately for you, Klubb Super 8 have recently established a new streaming service called Cultpix, where indeed many of these films can now be viewed at the click of a mouse, from classics like Anita - Swedish Nymphet to sex education films such as The Language of Love. Cultpix also has cult films from all over the world in a range of genres, and it is growing all the time. It is a must-have subscription for anyone looking for something a bit different from the safer options on Netflix or Disney +.

With hundreds of posters and written commentary in English, Do You Believe in Swedish Sin? is an eclectic and engrossing poster collection for any serious movie buff. This glossy hardback book will add a touch of colour and Scandinavian glamour to any top shelf.

You can order a copy of Do You Believe in Swedish Sin? here: https://super8.merchants.se/en/article.php?art=181506235

You can explore what Cultpix has to offer here: https://www.cultpix.com/

By John M. Whalen

ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD . . . (actually from the late 50s to the late 80s) there was a famous screenwriter who was something of a living legend. His name was Stirling Silliphant. He’s all but forgotten now but he was once one of Tinseltown’s most prolific, highest paid writers, having turned out 47 produced screenplays (including the Oscar winning “In the Heat of the Night” (1967), literally hundreds of hours of primetime TV episodes (including “Route 66” and “Naked City”), and several novels (“Steel Tiger”). He drove around L. A. in a Rolls Royce, sailed the world in a yacht, was friends with and a student of Bruce Lee, had an office on the Warners lot and was married four times—his last to Du Thi Thanh Nga, a Vietnamese actress better known as Tiana Alexandra, who was also a Bruce Lee student and 38 years Silliphant’s junior.

Silliphant took an active interest in advancing his wife’s acting career. Between 1974, when they were married, and 1987, he wrote parts for her in Sam Peckinpah’s “The Killer Elite” (1975), several TV dramas (“Pearl” (1978), “Fly Away Home” (1981),” and he created a starring role for her in “Catch the Heat” (1987), an action movie designed to show off her acting and martial arts skills. (The film has also been marketed as "Feel the Heat"). Silliphant produced the picture and action director Joel Silberg (“Breakin” (1984), and “Rappin” (1985), directed. Moshe Diamant’s Trans World Entertainment which had produced a host of action movies with stars like Sho Kishogi, and Jean Claude VanDamme, released the film.

“Catch the Heat” features Tiana as San Francisco cop Checkers Goldberg, who goes to Buenos Aires undercover, posing as Chinese singer/dancer named Cinderella Pu to investigate Jason Hannibal (Rod Steiger). He’s a talent agent who is actually a drug kingpin from Thailand who is somehow smuggling drugs into the U.S. Checkers’ partner, Detective Waldo Tarr (David Dukes) is already in Buenos Aires, ready to slap the cuffs on Hannibal as soon as Checkers can come up with some drug-smuggling evidence. Waldo also just happens to be in love with Checkers.

There is plenty of action in “Catch the Heat,” as Checkers kicks, punches, and thigh-crushes a host of 80s action movie villains including Professor Toru Tanaka (Subzero in “The Running Man” (1987), Brian Thompson (Night Slasher in “Cobra” (1986), John Hancock (“Dead Aim” (1987), and others. Tiana’s karate moves are authentic and she doesn’t stop moving throughout the entire film, even in scenes that don’t require any action, such as when she finds out Hannibal’s fiendish method for smuggling heroin into the U.S., she becomes so infuriated, she goes to Waldo’s hotel room and instead of knocking or turning the door knob, she kicks the door off the hinges, raging about what she’d like to do to him. “He’s not a talent agent,” she shouts. “He’s a monster.” Probably a line she may have uttered in real life more than once.

“Catch the Heat” may not be the greatest action movie to come out of the 80s, but it’s certainly not the worst either, and probably should be better known than it is, especially among martial arts movie fans. Silliphant’s script is more of a send-up of the genre, even to the point of having Checkers wear a “Suzie Wong” dress and wig and talk in a sing-song Chinese cutie accent when she’s on screen as Cinderella Pu. The satiric elements seemed to have been lost on Silberg, who probably saw the film as just another chop socky day at the office.

Unfortunately, it would be Tiana’s one and only starring role in a feature film. In Nat Segaloff’s biography, “Silliphant: The Fingers of God,” Tiana explains that despite Bruce Lee’s success, studios were still reluctant to cast Asians, especially females, in leading roles. Silliphant said it was racism that prompted one Warners executive to tell Lee, when he was being considered for the Kung Fu TV series, that Americans would be offended by having a Chinese man in the living rooms every week. Lee had to leave the country to find success. According to Tiana, she was an even tougher sell. Producers and studio executives disliked having the wife of a writer/producer pushed on them. When Silliphant proposed making Dirty Harry’s female partner in “The Enforcer” (1976) an Asian, Tiana said, “They were not amused.”

In 1988, a year after “Catch the Heat” flopped, Silliphant, at the age of 70, moved lock, stock and barrel out of the “eel pit” that he called Hollywood and expatriated to Thailand, where he said he felt he had lived in a previous life. He and Tiana remained married for 22 years, but the last several years of their relationship found them apart more than together. Silliphant was busily involved in the Bangkok film industry, and managed to pen at least one decent script, an adaptation of Truman Capote’s “The Grass Harp” – miles away from the likes of “The Swarm” or even “Catch the Heat.” He died of prostate cancer in 1996.

Tiana went back to her birthplace despite the U.S. Trade Embargo that was in place at that time to film “From Hollywood to Hanoi ”, a documentary, which won critical accolades, and was nominated for a Grand Jury Prize at the 1993 Sundance Film Festival. She has since partnered with writer Christopher Hampton on several significant projects including serving as associate producer for “A Dangerous Method (2011).”

Her mini-bio on the Internet Movie Database says that she is working on a documentary on General Vo Nguyen Giap, the Commander of the North Vietnamese Army during both the French and the American wars, called “The General and Me,” to be released in 2025. From late 2020 to 2021 she traveled the United States collecting stories and characters for a new series entitled “Detour 66.” The project follows in the tracks of her late husband’s TV series, “Route 66” (1960), and “chronicles the dramas and cultural zeitgeist unfolding across the Divided States of America.”

Kino Lorber’s Blu-Ray release, presented in collaboration with Scorpion, presents “Catch the Heat” in its 1.85:1 theatrical aspect ratio. The transfer to disc is a major league improvement over the previous MGM video of 2003, which was full-screen. The only extras are the theatrical trailer, the VHS Preview Trailer, and trailers for half a dozen other Kino Lorber action flicks from the 80s. It’s really too bad there wasn’t at least an audio commentary from a martial arts film authority included as a bonus feature to provide some background and context for “Catch the Heat.” Now that it’s out on Blu-ray, maybe it’ll finally get some recognition as an undiscovered ‘80s cult classic.

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John M. Whalen is the author of "Tragon and the Scorpion Woman...and Other Tales". Click  here to order from Amazon

BY FRED BLOSSER

“Son of Samson,” an Italian production from the wave of sword-and-toga or “peplum” movies in the early 1960s, has been released by Kino Lorber Studio Classics in a Blu-ray edition. When you hit “play,” don’t be alarmed when a different title, “Maciste nella Valle de Re,” appears instead. It’s the same picture. “Maciste nella valle de Re” or “Maciste in the Valley of the Kings” was the original title in Italy, where director Carlo Campogalliani’s production opened on Nov. 24, 1960. There, “Maciste” had a nostalgic fan base among older filmgoers who fondly remembered the super-strong defender of justice and freedom from an iconic series of silent movies (1914-1927). The 75-year-old Campogalliani had directed three of the original Maciste pictures, and rebooting the character had long been his pet project. The recent success of Steve Reeves’ first muscleman epics, “Hercules” (1958) and “Hercules Unchained” (1959), finally provided the go-ahead.

Since “Maciste” carried no brand-name value here, “Son of Samson” became the title for the dubbed, slightly edited version that opened in New York on June 2, 1962. The new title shrewdly reminded ticket-buyers of Cecil B. DeMille’s popular “Samson and Delilah” (1950), from which the script lifted a couple of incidental situations. Also, with its biblical connotation, “Son of Samson” was designed to placate moralist watchdogs in conservative small towns. It was okay to ogle a sexy leading lady in skimpy, navel-baring harem outfits and an oiled-up, nearly naked hero, as long as the Good Book somehow fit into the scenario. DeMille had virtually pioneered the same tactic. Never mind that “Son of Samson” had no narrative connection to the DeMille picture. For that matter, it really had no religious elements at all. With its second-unit visuals of the pyramids and other desert monuments, It might just as easily have been retitled “Samson Meets Cleopatra” to exploit current publicity around Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s “Cleopatra,” which was still a year away from release. The “new” Maciste was so popular in Italy that more films followed, in which Mark Forest was followed in the role by Kirk Morris and Gordon Scott, among others. Later, several of the pictures were packaged with other peplums for syndicated TV broadcast in America as “Sons of Hercules” and “Gladiator Theatre.”

In Campogalliani’s movie, Maciste (Mark Forest) wanders through Egypt in the 5th Century B.C. looking for good deeds to perform. When he’s attacked by lions, he kills one with his bare hands (like Victor Mature’s Samson in the DeMille picture) and is saved from the other by an archer who turns out to be Kenamun, the Pharaoh’s son. Kenamun and his father Armiteo try to keep their cruel Persian vizier from oppressing the common folk, but Armiteo’s trophy wife Smedes (Chelo Alonso) secretly throws in with the vizier. They murder the Pharaoh, put Kenamun under a spell, and dispatch their troops to round up unoffending peasants for brutal slave labor. Maciste steps in to rescue the villagers, including pretty sisters Tekaet and Nofret, and break Smedes’ spell over Kenamun. Unlike the heroes in today’s movie franchises, Maciste doesn’t brood over a tortuous back-story involving daddy issues, murdered parents, or remorse over past misdeeds. Asked why he spends his time helping poor people for no personal gain, he simply answers, “It is my destiny.” In that more innocent era of movie entertainment, no further explanation was required. When Maciste and Smedes meet in the palace, she tries to seduce him with a slinky belly dance, and we visit an ingenious execution chamber known as “The Cell of Death.” There, if you somehow escape being crushed between two closeable walls, you’ll fall into a pool of crocodiles. The script by prolific screenwriters Oreste Biancoli and Ennio De Concini faithfully observes Chekhov’s famous dictum. If a Cell of Death appears in the story, someone must perish there before the final credits roll.

The print of “Son of Samson” presented by Kino Lorber is the Italian version with a dubbed English voice track. It includes a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s bare breasts (full disclosure, in case you’re curious . . . not Chelo Alonso’s) that was censored out of the American print. Even here, it speeds by so fast it seems to be optically blurred. Older fans will be glad to see hunky Mark Forest and super-hot Chelo Alonso again in peak trim, although the simplistic plot is a reminder that the Italian sword-and-toga movies (even a better-budgeted one like this, seen in proper Totalscope and Technicolor presentation after years of abysmal “Gladiator Theatre” prints) tend not to live up to our youthful memories when we revisit them many years later. The Marvel Studios generation may squirm at the old-fashioned pace of the script, and wonder why the laconic hero doesn’t brush off various perils with a stream of clever quips.

Nevertheless, if you can get your 12-year-old kid brother, son, nephew, or grandson to sit still long enough, he’ll learn that the basics for luring audiences to the ticket booth haven’t changed all that much since 1960, whether the buffed-up guy in the poster is Mark Forest, Arnold Schwarzenegger, or Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. Millennial sword-and-toga dramas like the “300” movies (2006 and 2014) and cable’s “Spartacus” series (2010-13) have more nudity and graphic carnage, but still, at the end of the day, it’s all about the abs.

The Kino Lorber release includes captioning and an excellent, insightful, spirited audio commentary from movie guys David Del Valle and Michael Varrati.

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Fred Blosser is the author of "Sons of Ringo: The Great Spaghetti Western Heroes". Click here to order from Amazon)

Lexington Books

222 pages

Illustrated

Hardback

January 2022

ISBN: 978-1-4985-7072-5

RRP: £73.00

BY ADRIAN SMITH

British author Edgar Wallace, aside from the London pub bearing his name, is now largely forgotten in his home country, and is perhaps best remembered, if at all, for his contribution to RKO’s King Kong (1933), although he sadly died before the film was completed. During his immensely prolific career as a journalist, author, poet, playwright, historian, film producer and director, screenwriter and chairman of the British Lion Film Corporation, he published around two hundred novels, almost a thousand short stories and twenty stage plays. It was said that at one point around a quarter of all books being read in the UK were written by Wallace. He was best known for his crime novels, particularly ‘The Four Just Men’ series and the amateur detective J.G. Reeder, but he also created the colonial adventurer ‘Sanders of the River’ and wrote science fiction and comedy stories. His non-fiction often focused on his experiences in South Africa during the Boer War or on his passion for horse racing (the latter of which kept him mostly in debt and helped fuel his need to keep writing).

Many of his stories and plays were adapted by Hollywood and British filmmakers during the 1930s and 1940s, and in the 1960s the tiny Merton Park Studios produced a whopping forty-seven second-feature films under the title The Edgar Wallace Mysteries. These films were so successful that The Shadows scored a chart hit with their cover of the theme music ‘Man of Mystery’.

And yet Edgar Wallace’s work has now mostly fallen out of print in the UK. Perhaps it is because, as he himself once admitted, “I do not write good books, I write bestsellers.” In Germany, however, it was a different story; paperback publisher Goldmanns issued dozens of Wallace novels (and those of his son Bryan Edgar Wallace) in the 1940s and 1950s under the cheap imprint Taschen-Krimi (krimi meaning crime), and these novels were very popular in a post-war country still coming to terms with the relationship it now had with the UK, it’s former enemy in two world wars. Wallace’s stories, often set in a fog-bound London, were a fantasy world of terror and crime where the good guys always prevailed.

In 1959 Danish film company Rialto tried their hand at an adaptation and produced The Mask of the Frog, shot in German language but set in London, and made with a comedic tone which was often found in the original novels. It was such a huge success that it launched a series which ran for over a decade and resulted in thirty-two films, mostly shot in Hamburg or Berlin (with second unit photography in London) and helped launch the careers of such film stars as Klaus Kinski, Karin Dor and Joachim Fuchsberger, as well as attracting stars such as Christopher Lee – he spoke perfect German – who appeared in The Devil’s Daffodil and Secret of the Red Orchid. Each film would begin with the message “Hallo, hier spricht Edgar Wallace.” Other popular films in the series, many of which were dubbed into English and distributed in the UK and the USA, included The Dead Eyes of London, The Ringer and The Hunchback of Soho. Towards the end of the cycle, Rialto joined forces with Italian filmmakers to make Double Face, What Have You Done to Solange? and Seven Blood-Stained Orchids, generally thought of as giallo films but released in Germany as part of the Krimi series.

Although Rialto’s Krimi production ended in the early 1970s, the films lived on through regular television screenings, and thus the popularity of Edgar Wallace has endured, and German translations of his novels have remained in print ever since. And whilst several German volumes have also been published dedicated to this series of films, until now the main English-language writing on the Krimi phenomenon was in the magazine Video Watchdog back in the 1990s. Nicholas G. Schlegel’s new book German Popular Cinema and the Rialto Krimi Phenomenon: Dark Eyes of London is therefore a very welcome and much- needed addition for anyone interested in exploring these films in more detail. With an insightful analysis of each of the films and their reception, alongside a history of the post-war German film industry and where these films sit within that context, reading this book will have you eagerly seeking out copies of all of them. Fortunately, a great deal of the Rialto Krimis are now available on DVD and Blu-ray with English subtitles, and occasionally with the original English dubs (sometimes the films were shot in both languages, with different actors), although some are still only available in German. Perhaps the films are considered to only be of commercial interest to German-speaking audiences. It can be hoped that the renewed interest this book will spark amongst English-speaking film fans will encourage the rights holders to eventually make all these films available.

Although the idea of 1960s German film adaptations of Edgar Wallace may not be everyone’s cup of tea (something which is drunk with great regularity in the films themselves), I would strongly encourage you to at least seek one out. They are great fun, balancing humour with tales of outlandish criminal masterminds (the tone often recalls episodes of The Avengers), and the novelty of seeing people in English police uniforms talking in German about Scotland Yard adds an additional element of charm to the whole thing. This new book from Schlegel is an essential read, taking in the films, the industry, their enduring legacy, and global influence. The hardback is admittedly something of an eye-watering price, but well worth it for the serious Krimi fan. For the curious, perhaps wait patiently for the paperback.

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By Doug Oswald

Oliver Reed, Candice Bergen and Gene Hackman are on opposing sides of “The Hunting Party,”a 1971 Western released on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber. Reed is Frank Calder who kidnaps school teacher Melissa Ruger (Bergen). The plan is to hold her for a ransom, but Frank also wants Melissa to teach him to read. Frank and his gang are pursued by Melissa’s sadistic husband Brandt Ruger (Hackman), a wealthy and powerful rancher. The film opens with Frank and his gang killing and butchering a cow from a heard of cattle and cutting out chunks of meat which they eat raw. The scene is disconcerting and is juxtaposed with a scene of Brandt forcing himself on Melissa, who is not enjoying his actions which border on rape and clearly involve the infliction of pain.

Frank’s gang are warned by lawmen to stay away from their town. They ride past the town bank which is heavily guarded and pass through town to the school. There they grab Melissa after her husband departs on a hunting trip with friends on his private train. Brandt and his friends also have several prostitutes and we witness Brandt’s sadism as he employs lit wax candles on the prostitute in his bed. When notified of his wife’s kidnapping the next morning, Brandt and his friends begin their pursuit of Frank and his gang along with his new high caliber hunting rifles with scopes. His friends think they are on a rescue mission, but they learn Brandt is less interested in getting his wife back than getting revenge.

Meanwhile, Frank tries forcing Melissa into teaching him to read, but she refuses and tries to escape several times. Frank rapes her and soon after she nearly shoots him. Frank gives her the ultimatum of teaching him to read or starving to death. Melissa succumbs during the only lighthearted scene in the movie in which she is tempted by Frank with a jar of peaches. Melissa is drawn to Frank and a romance develops between the two. Frank is an outlaw, but a man she is willing to be with and betray her sadistic husband. Brandt and his men soon catch up with Frank and his gang and starts picking them off like snipers, as they can kill at a great distance. One by one, Brandt’s men lose interest when they realize Brandt is less interested in rescuing his wife than killing Frank and his gang like animals. In one scene he even stacks the dead men along side the pond where they were killed, to the disgust of Brandt’s men who soon recognize their friend has gone mad.

Apart from the female lead, there are no “good guys” in this Western. They are all cutthroats, thieves and rapists or psychopaths. The movie is a blend of the Spaghetti Western and the new Hollywood action movie violence of the late 60s and 70s. Candice Bergen gives a terrific performance in an otherwise bleak and nihilistic movie, providing moments of hope that the story will turn in a different direction. She’s raped or nearly raped several times in the movie and her performance is a great follow up to her equally good performance in “Soldier Blue” from 1970. Gene Hackman gives a nasty performance,which is a forerunner to roles in other movies such as “Unforgiven” in 1992. Oliver Reed is understated for the most part and has an effective American accent in his only Western. It’s hard to figure out Frank Calder and his motives. Is he a bad guy? For sure, but he also gains our sympathy if only because the businessman Brandt Ruger is far worse than Frank and his gang members.

Familiar faces round out the cast with the likes of Simon Oakland, Mitchell Ryan, L.Q. Jones and William Watson to name just a few. Directed by Don Medford, the movie was filmed on location in Spain, which was irresistible for Hollywood productions trying to take advantage of the popularity of the Spaghetti Western craze and the Spanish vistas still largely unfamiliar to most movie-goers in America at the time. Known mostly for working in television where he had a prolific career, Medford directed this and the second “In the Heat of the Night” sequel, “The Organization,” which were both released in 1971 and remain his only big screen credits. Well, almost. In addition to the dozens of television credits as director from 1951 through 1989, he also directed the first episode of “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” (“The Vulcan Affair”) which was edited and released theatrically as “To Trap a Spy” in 1966. Thus, Medford could lay claim to three theatrical features depending on how one categorizes them. The screenplay is credited to William W. Norton, Gilbert Ralston and Lou Morheim, who may have crossed paths with Medford in television. The movie has a score by Italian composer Riz Ortolani ,who may be best known for his score to “The 7th Dawn” and more recently for three Quentin Tarantino films: “Kill Bill,” “Inglorious Basterds” and “Django Unchained.”

One of the problems with the movie is that it is very bleak with only the previously mentioned levity which seems out of place compared to the rest of the rest of the movie. While the film is unsettling, it is very good with fine performances by the three leads and the great supporting cast. This isn’t the kind of Western the Duke appeared in during this time period and one can debate which style was better: the extreme violence or the more traditional off-screen blood and violence. I appreciate both and I think there’s room for this variety, but there’s no doubt we were seeing one of the last gasps of the Hollywood Western.

The movie looks great on Blu-ray and I suspect it’s as good as it’s ever looked on home video, having being released previously on DVD and VHS. The disc has an audio commentary by Howard S. Berger and Nathaniel Thompson which I found very informative. Other extras include a 12-minute interview with actor Mitchell Ryan who shares his recollections while working on the film. The disc includes the trailer for this and other Kino Lorber releases and reversible cover art. Forget what you’ve heard or read about this movie, “The Hunting Party” may not be for everyone, but is recommended for Western fans due to the terrific cast of leading and supporting players.

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RIP VAN MARLOWE

By Raymond Benson

(Note: Portions of this review appeared on Cinema Retro in 2014 for an earlier Kino Lorber edition.)

Robert Altman was a very quirky director, sometimes missing the mark, but oftentimes brilliant. His 1973 take on Raymond Chandler’s 1953 novel The Long Goodbye is a case in point. It might take a second viewing to appreciate what’s really going on in the film. Updating what is essentially a 1940s film noir character to the swinging 70s was a risky and challenging prospect—and Altman and his star, Elliott Gould as Philip Marlowe (!), pull it off.

It’s one of those pictures that critics hated when it was first released; and yet, by the end of the year, it was being named on several Top Ten lists. I admit that when I first saw it in 1973, I didn’t much care for it. I still wasn’t totally in tune with the kinds of movies Altman made—even after M*A*S*H, Brewster McCloud (an underrated gem), and McCabe & Mrs. Miller. But I saw it again a few years later on a college campus and totally dug it. Altman made oddball films, and either you went with the flow or you would be put off by the improvisational, sometimes sloppy mise-en-scène that the director used. And the sound—well, Altman is infamous for his overlapping dialogue (one critic called it “Altman Soup”). If you didn’t “get” what the director was doing with sound, then you would certainly have a hard time with his pictures.

Yes, Elliott Gould plays Philip Marlowe. A very different interpretation than Humphrey Bogart or Dick Powell, obviously. And yet, it works. Gould displays the right amount of bemused cynicism, as if he had been asleep for twenty years and suddenly woken up in the 1970s. And that’s exactly how Altman, screenwriter Leigh Brackett (who co-wrote the 1946 The Big Sleep), and Gould approached the material. Altman, in a documentary extra on the making of the film, called the character “Rip Van Marlowe.” He is an anachronism in a different time. For example, Marlowe can’t help but be bewildered by the quartet of exhibitionist hippie lesbians that live in his apartment complex. And he still drives a car from his original era. And therein lies the point of the picture—this is a comment on the 70s, not the 40s or 50s.

The plot concerns the possible murder of the wife of Marlowe’s good friend, Terry (played by baseball pro Jim Boutin), who is indeed a suspect, as well as a suitcase of missing money belonging to a vicious gangster (extrovertly portrayed by film director Mark Rydell), an Ernest Hemingway-like writer who has gone missing (eccentrically performed by Sterling Hayden), and the author’s hot blonde wife who may know more than she’s telling (honestly played by newcomer Nina van Pallandt). The story twists, turns, hits some bumps in the road, and finally circles back to the initial beginning mystery.

It may not be one of Altman’s best films, but it’s one of the better ones. It’s certainly one of the more interesting experiments he tried in his most prolific period of the 70s.

Kino Lorber already put out a Blu-ray release several years ago, but it didn’t really improve much on the original DVD release prior to that. The company has now re-issued the film in a brand new 4K master that is a vast step-up from the previous release. It looks great. The soft focus cinematography by Vilmos Zsigmond is no longer a hazy gaze but is instead a crystal transfer of that distinctive 1970s film stock imagery. The movie now comes with an informative audio commentary by film historian Tim Lucas.

Some of the extras are ported over from the previous Kino Lorber release, such as the aforementioned “making of” documentary, a short piece on Zsigmond, an animated reproduction of a vintage American Cinematographer article, the trailer, and a few radio spots. New to this edition are featurettes with film historian/critic David Thompson on Altman and the film, author Tom Williams on Raymond Chandler, and author/historian Maxim Jakubowski on hard-boiled fiction in general. There is also a “Trailers from Hell” segment with Josh Olson.

If you’re an Altman fan and don’t already own the out of print DVD or previous Blu-ray, you may want to pick up the new, improved The Long Goodbye. It probably won’t be long before this, too, like Philip Marlowe himself, is a rare collector’s item.

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(Note: It has just been announced that "The Long Goodbye" has been named to America's National Film Registry of classic motion pictures.)

“SPIES WITH SCRUPLES”

By Raymond Benson

In comparing Masquerade (1965) with a recent review of Arabesque (1966) here at Cinema Retro, this time we have yet another mid-1960s “comedy-spy thriller,” a genre that was crowding the cinemas in those days because of the success of Double-O-You-Know-Who.

In contrast to Arabesque, this one is a British production, directed by the prolific and often brilliant Basil Dearden, and it utilizes London locations as well as spots in Spain. And yet, despite the thoroughly British DNA running through 95% of the movie, it stars American Cliff Robertson as the hero, David Fraser, a sort of CIA type who seems to approach all the danger around him with misplaced naivete and amused detachment.

The script marks the first appearance of the great William Goldman in a screen credit (co-writing with Michael Relph). It’s based on Vincent Canning’s novel, Castle Minerva. Apparently, it was Robertson who had enlisted Goldman’s services, as the dialogue needed some “Americanizing.” That said, the script is serviceable and certainly makes more sense than what we saw in Arabesque.

Britain wants oil drilling rights in a fictional Middle Eastern country, but the country isn’t playing ball. Colonel Drexel (Jack Hawkins) is engaged by Sir Robert (John Le Mesurier) to fix the problem. Drexel hires an old war buddy, Frazer, to kidnap the teenage son of the country’s prince. This is supposed to force the resumption of talks and ultimate agreement between the two countries. Why this is considered sound diplomacy is anyone’s guess, but that’s the mission. Frazer goes along with the plan out of loyalty to his friend; however, at one point he rejects performing an order because he has “scruples” (but kidnapping a prince isn’t one of them). Frazer eventually finds that he has competition in the form of a small gang of Europeans who also want the boy. As the tag line for the movie in its posters and theatrical trailer shouts, “Who is Doing What to Who?” Indeed… the audience will be wondering that, too. (Shouldn’t that be “to Whom?”) In other words, the movie is filled with double-crosses, switcheroos, and things that are not as they seem.

The picture is lively and loaded with action sequences. The supporting cast, especially the Europeans (namely Marisa Mell and a young Michel Piccoli), are a hoot. The British side sports familiar character actors besides Hawkins (such as Charles Gray and Bill Fraser).

Unfortunately, Masquerade doesn’t quite succeed as intended mainly due to the casting of Robertson. Like Arabesque, this needed someone with the comic delivery of a Cary Grant, and the American Robertson is also oddly out of place in this British-European milieu. Robertson does his best, though, and he gets the job done—even if the whole thing is more than just implausible. (The poor guy gets clobbered on the head several times in the movie; one would think a concussion might have debilitated him after, say, the third time.)

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray displays that distinctive 1960s film stock look, and it’s a good enough transfer. It comes with an audio commentary by film historians Howard S. Berger and Chris Poggiali. The theatrical trailer, along with other Kino Lorber trailers, are the only supplements.

Masquerade is a middle-of-the-road example of the 1960s cinematic “spy boom, and the Bond-Wanabe aspects of the picture plants it firmly within the context of its era.

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BY ADRIAN SMITH

When film fans hear the name of Italian director Lucio Fulci, it almost inevitably brings to mind his oft-quoted moniker as the “Godfather of Gore,” thanks to the films made towards the end of his career that caused so much trouble with the British film censors; Zombie Flesh Eaters (1980), The Beyond (1981) New York Ripper (1983) being some of the most notorious. To view him as such however is to miss out on what was an extraordinarily prolific career which also included musicals, comedies, westerns, historical dramas, fantasy films, science fiction and thrillers. This new Blu-ray and digital release of The Psychic, out now in a 2K restoration from Shameless Films, is an opportunity to reassess one of his less well known films, which is only now being released in the UK for the first time.

The Psychic tells the tale of a woman who has visions of murder and death. These visions cause her to break through a wall in her rich new husband’s old farmhouse, where she discovers the skeleton of a woman murdered four years earlier. Naturally her husband is under suspicion, and with the help of a doctor friend with an interest in parapsychology she tries to replay the memories of these visons in her head over and over again, looking for clues that might prove her husband’s innocence. As pieces of the puzzle fail to add up however, she begins to realise that some of what she has seen may in fact be a premonition of murders yet to come, possibly her own.

The original Italian title was Sette note in nero, or “Seven Black Notes.” The seven notes in question refer to the tune that is played each hour on a watch worn by our heroine, gifted to her by the husband’s sister. This sister has dozens of lovers who give her gifts, and the watch apparently came from someone in the Vatican. This is just a sly hint towards illicit goings on in the Catholic Church. In some of Fulci’s other films, such as Don’t Torture a Duckling (1972), the criticism would be far more overt.

With its amateur detective attempting to solve a crime by constantly revisiting distorted memories, The Psychic sits squarely within the tradition of the giallo, the sub-genre of Italian thrillers that often featured bizarre murders, unreliable witnesses, amateur detectives and red herrings galore. Described as an “elegantly constructed murder mystery” by historian Stephen Thrower (who wrote the definitive book on Fulci’s career), this is an entertaining thriller that leads the audience down dark paths and blind alleys before finally delivering an exhilarating ending straight out of Edgar Allan Poe.

This new Shameless Blu-ray edition includes both the original Italian and English dubs, and a wealth of new interviews. Sadly, Fulci himself is no longer with us, but his daughter Antonella Fulci appears in two separate interviews, one focused on the film and the other on her father. Put together, she speaks in these interviews for almost an hour, and it is fascinating to get insight into both her personal relationship with her father as well as her own analysis of his career. Also appearing on the disc is the writer Dardano Sacchetti, who also speaks for around an hour, and with almost a hundred different credits, he has had a rich and diverse career and is full of great stories. The final interview is with the film’s composer Fabio Frizzi, who discusses how he got started in composing for film as well as his relationship with Lucio Fulci. Frizzi was a frequent collaborator with Lucio Fulci, and several years ago went on tour performing music from these films around the world (something this writer was lucky enough to see one Halloween). And if you are wondering why The Psychic score sounds familiar, that’s because it is yet another Italian score pinched by Quentin Tarantino for Kill Bill!

The Shameless Films Blu-ray, in a distinctive yellow case, comes with a collectible O-ring featuring the iconic American poster art, and also includes a reversible sleeve which uses the original Italian artwork which made the Edgar Allan Poe connection even more explicit.

The Psychic deserves to become better known as a fine example of the 1970s European thriller, and this new restoration is the perfect way to see it.

(Note: this release is currently available in Region 2 UK format only.)

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“DON’T THROW YOUR SHOES OUT THE WINDOW”

By Raymond Benson

The prolific Hollywood producer Walter Mirisch was responsible for spearheading such famed titles as Two for the Seesaw, Hawaii, In the Heat of the Night, and Dracula (’79), and served as uncredited executive producer for a number of high-profile pictures such as The Pink Panther, The Great Escape, Fiddler on the Roof, and more. Mirisch got his start, though, at the “Poverty Row” studio Monogram in the 1940s, where he churned out a few low-budget crime dramas and film noir.

Mirisch’s second feature for Monogram was a movie that has apparently been out of circulation for decades. Considering its title, one might understand why… I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes! is based on a novel of the same name by the great mystery writer Cornell Woolrich, and the screenplay is by pulp writer (e.g., Mystery Adventures magazine) Steve Fisher, who penned scripts for such flicks as Destination Tokyo (1943), Johnny Angel (1945), Song of the Thin Man (1947), and The Hunted (1947).

The picture stars relative unknowns (today), but it’s a tight little “wrong man” scenario that holds one’s interest despite having some plot and character aspects that stretch credibility.

Tom Quinn (Don Castle) is an out-of -work dancer in New York City, and he’s married to Ann (Elyse Knox). Ann works at a dance joint where strange men tip her to “provide dance lessons,” but it’s really a place where men attempt to get dates with the dancers. One guy, whom Ann refers to as “Santa Claus” because of his build, is very insistent on dancing with her (at least he tips her well). One hot night, Tom and Ann are trying to get some sleep, and noisy cats are outside howling in the alley. Tom gets up and throws his shoes out the window at the cats to shut them up (who does this, really?). Realizing he needs his shoes, Tom goes out to look for them. He can’t find them. Figuring he’ll search again in daylight, he returns to the apartment and goes to sleep. The next morning, his shoes are in the hallway outside the door. Later, he finds a wallet with a lot of money in it, seemingly placed exactly where he would stumble upon it. It turns out that a wealthy hermit who lived nearby was robbed and murdered. The police discover a shoe print outside in the mud that matches Tom’s shoes. Lo and behold, one of the detectives is none other than Clint (Regis Toomey), the fellow Ann knows as “Santa Claus.” Tom, obviously framed, is arrested, tried for murder, and convicted. He’s sentenced to die in the electric chair, so Ann has a race against time to try and prove her husband innocent. Perhaps if she gives Inspector Clint what he wants from her…?

Okay, so Tom does a really dumb thing by throwing his shoes out the window. Then, both he and Ann decide to keep the money he finds after it isn’t reported in the papers. When they start to spend it, the police get wise to the couple. Later, if Ann is so devoted to Tom, would she really start an affair with the policeman who was responsible for Tom’s arrest? The affair is implied, of course, or at least there is the promise of one if the guy helps her investigate the crime further. And… maybe the legal machine operated more quickly in the late 1940s, but Tom is swiftly tried, convicted, and sentenced, and the execution date set—in seemingly record time!

These quibbles aside, I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes! does manage to entertain. Viewers may very well guess who the real killer is earlier than the filmmakers intended for that to occur, but one does get a “I was right!” feeling when the identity is revealed.

Warner Archive’s new Blu-ray restoration brings this little-seen picture out of the vault, so to speak. It looks and sounds great. One supplement is The Symphony Murder Mystery, a 1932 short written by S. S. Van Dine (who was responsible for the “Philo Vance” mystery novels), one in a series of “Criminologist Dr. Crabtree” mystery yarns that were made as short subjects in the 30s (with Donald Meek as Crabtree). Its age shows, but it’s an interesting curio from the era. A second extra is the Warner cartoon, Holiday for Shoestrings, directed by Friz Freleng, a mostly pantomimed musical parody of “The Elves and the Shoemaker” fable. Fun stuff.

I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes! is a welcome diversion into Hollywood cinema of yesteryear.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Charles Grodin,  the actor and prolific writer who made droll comedy his trademark, has died at age 86. His first big break on the silver screen came with a dramatic role in Roman Polanski's 1968 classic "Rosemary's Baby", after Grodin failed to land the lead in "The Graduate". He shot to stardom in 1972 with his leading role in the comedy "The Heartbreak Kid" and from then on he became known for often playing charismatic cads. He also scored with memorable roles in the 1978 remake of  "Heaven Can Wait" and opposite Robert De Niro in the 1988 crime comedy "Midnight Run". He also played the harried father in the "Beethoven" family comedies. One of his most impressive late career roles was in the little-seen and critically disparaged "An Imperfect Murder" in which he excelled in a brief appearance as a man trying to cope with the onset of dementia. Click here for more about his life and career.

“A LIKABLE CAD”

By Raymond Benson

Robert Young had a career of playing mostly trustworthy nice guys—after all, one could say he was born to play Marcus Welby, M.D. on television. But in 1947, he took the chance of portraying an all-around heel, a no-good philanderer who married for money and looks for every opportunity to score with someone new. And yet, Young’s admirable qualities are still there, making his character of Larry Ballentine in the film noir drama, They Won’t Believe Me, a likable cad. He pulls it off, too.

Audiences didn’t take to the change, though, and the picture was a box office dud. However, the lack of profits when a movie is released is never a true indication of its quality. They Won’t Believe Me is an artfully crafted, well-acted, twisty tale about lies, fate, and luck.

The original screenplay was written by Jonathan Latimer, creator of the William Crane crime novels as well as other mysteries and thrillers of the 30s through the 50s. He was also a prolific screenwriter; his work includes The Glass Key (1942) and The Big Clock (1948). The director, Irving Pichel, was primarily an actor, but he often sat behind the camera for two decades; one of his later pictures was Destination Moon (1950)! Hollywood stalwart Harry J. Wild served as cinematographer, and he already had his film noir chops down with such fare as Murder, My Sweet (1944) and Johnny Angel (1945).

The cast is excellent. Besides Young, who is in every scene of the movie, there is the luminous Susan Hayward, an extremely talented and beautiful actress who left us far too soon. Supporting them are Jane Greer (of Out of the Past fame), Rita Johnson, and Tom Powers (who played Barbara Stanwyck’s doomed husband in Double Indemnity).

Larry (Young) is on trial for murdering Verna (Hayward). His defense lawyer puts him on the stand to tell his story; thus, the film is told in flashback, with the courtroom sequences functioning as a framing device. Larry admits he was not a good husband to wealthy Gretta (Johnson) and that he married her for her money. Gretta was also aware of this and she tolerated his infidelities because she knew he would never leave. After an almost-tryst with Janice (Greer), he meets Verna at his lucrative new office job that Gretta had arranged for him. Verna is likely going to marry the boss, Trenton (Powers), but she honestly reveals to Larry that she’s a gold-digger and, frankly, what we call a “party girl.” She has no qualms with having an affair with Larry. But they actually fall in love, so Larry makes sincere plans to leave Gretta and run away with Verna. Unfortunately, twists of fate interfere with their plans. We know Verna dies from the beginning of the movie, and how this occurs is one of the surprises in the plot. When Gretta meets a similar fate, then Larry sweats it out until he is ultimately arrested. At 95-minutes, They Won’t Believe Me is the celluloid equivalent of a page-turner, and how it all plays out is always unpredictable.

The Warner Archive has released an astonishingly gorgeous high-definition restoration in glorious black and white that looks as if the print is brand new. It comes with a DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono soundtrack and English subtitles for the hearing impaired. Unfortunately, there are no supplements on the disk.

You won’t believe how compelling They Won’t Believe Me is until you see it. Check it out.

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BY DOUG OSWALD

A Japanese Naval officer and an American Marine Corps aviator are marooned on a Pacific island during WWII in “Hell in the Pacific,” available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber. The film is a virtual silent movie with the exception of the Pacific island sounds of surf, wind, birds and the occasional words spoken by the co-protagonists portrayed by Toshiro Mifune and Lee Marvin. However, neither understands the other’s language. The film opens with Mifune scanning the horizon for any signs of rescue when he spots a deflated life raft. The rubber raft belongs to Marvin who is hiding in the thick jungle growth nearby. Marvin is able to elude discovery by Mifune, but eventually thirst forces him to reveal himself on the beach.

Mifune captures Marvin after several attempts are made by Marvin to take water from Mifune’s water supply as well as other general mayhem like stealing fish from Mifune’s fish trap. Mifune ties him to a stock and Marvin is forced to drag a piece of driftwood up and down the beach. Mifune also blindfolds Marvin because he doesn’t want Marvin looking at him. Later, Marvin tricks Mifune and the tables are turned. Mifune is now forced to drag the log while tied to a stock and blindfolded. The island is not so much Hell, but a sort of Purgatory where each man takes turns harassing the other. Eventually, Marvin tires of this and releases Mifune, much to Mifune’s befuddlement. The men form a grudging alliance and focus their efforts on building a raft to escape the island. They do escape, only to arrive at a larger bombed out island once occupied by both sides. Perhaps this is their fate, to repeat the cycle.

Although the setting is World War II in the Pacific, the movie could just as well be set in a post apocalyptic or alien world. The 1985 science fiction film “Enemy Mine” offers an alternate version of “Hell in the Pacific” and was clearly partially inspired by that film. Although based on a 1977 novella, “Enemy Mine” is a unique, but maintains the basic plot of two enemies forced to work together in order to survive. This story concept served as a template used in countless television series from “The Twilight Zone” and “Star Trek” to “The Rat Patrol” and “Battlestar Galactica.”

Directed by John Boorman, “Hell in the Pacific” was released four years before his 1972 box office hit, “Deliverance.” He previously worked with Marvin on the 1971 thriller “Point Blank.” While not a prolific director, Boorman directed several high profile movies such as “Zardoz” (1974), “Exorcist II: The Heretic” (1977), the ultimate Arthurian epic “Excalibur” (1981), “The Emerald Forrest (1985), the autobiographical “Hope and Glory” (1987), “Beyond Rangoon” (1995) and “The Tailor of Panama” (2001). I have no doubt Boorman put his heart and soul into every production.

Released by Cinerama Releasing Corporation in December 1968, the movie under- performed at the box office. This was probably due to the unusual nature of the film with sparse dialogue, no subtitles, bleak setting and downbeat ending. The original ending as directed by Boorman was scrapped in favor of the ending fans are familiar with as seen in the theater, on television and on the initial home video releases. The DVD release by MGM was the first release to include the original ending as does this Blu-ray release. Making great use of the wide screen lens, the movie was filmed on location in the Palau Islands which are located north of New Guinea and east of the Philippines where the WWII Battle of Peleliu took place from September to November 1944.

Both Marvin and Mifune served in the Pacific during WWII. Marvin was a Marine wounded during the Battle of Saipan in 1944. Mifune was in the Japanese Army Air Service. Mifune was the most famous actor from Japan at the time and Marvin had recently received an Oscar for “Cat Ballou” (1965) and was in one of the biggest box office hits of 1967, “The Dirty Dozen.” Both men featured in many now classic movies in a variety of genres from detective thrillers, dramas and comedies to samurai films (Mifune) and westerns (Marvin). “Hell in the Pacific” is a must-see movie if, for no other reason,n than to experience the result of the creative triumphant of John Boorman directing Toshiro Mifune and Lee Marvin. Both Marvin and Mifune deserve praise for their performances.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray looks and sounds terrific and is a worthy upgrade from the early DVD releases by Anchor Bay and MGM. Extras on the disc include an insightful audio commentary by Travis Crawford and Bill Ackerman, in-depth discussions by director John Boorman and another by Art Director Anthony Pratt. The disc also includes subtitles which reveal the dialog spoken in Japanese by Mifune and the dialog spoken by Marvin. The real treat comes in the form of an option to view the movie as originally seen upon release in theaters or with the alternate ending. The alternate ending is more accurately Boorman’s original filmed ending. As for me, I prefer Boorman’s version, but I’m pleased both are offered. The previous MGM DVD release only offered the Boorman ending as an extra on the disc and did not edit it back into the movie as this release does. The disc also includes reverseable sleeve artwork and the trailers for five other Kino releases. Unfortunately, a trailer for this movie is not included. This is a movie which needs to be watched multiple times; with the original ending, with the theatrical release ending, with the subtitles and also with the audio commentary. Well worth it for fans of this outstanding movie. It’s a terrific Blu-ray release from Kino Lorber.

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BY DARREN ALLISON

Fireball XL5

It’s always a gratifying feeling when Silva screen produces another title in their successful Gerry Anderson collection. This time around, they have focused on the 1962-63 series, Fireball XL5 (SILLP1595).

The black & white puppet television series followed the missions of Fireball XL5, a vessel of the World Space Patrol in the year 2062. Commanded by Colonel Steve Zodiac, XL5 travels the universe encountering alien civilisations and defending planet Earth from interstellar threats. It was produced, like most other Anderson productions, in Supermarionation, using puppetry techniques that captured the imagination of a generation.

The Fireball XL5 soundtrack has been newly compiled, mastered and designed by the creative and committed team at Fanderson – The Official Gerry And Sylvia Anderson Appreciation Society.

The album features 24 tracks from 16 episodes, including the Fireball XL5 main theme and single version. In the opening theme, Barry Gray employs, for the first time, the Ondes Martenot, bringing an eerie and other-worldly sound to the series. The contrast of detached electronic music with the jazzy musical language served as a perfect juxtaposition of the alien and human Worlds. Each episode would finish with the pop song “Fireball”, bringing the viewer back to the warmth of their 60s lounge. The song was performed by Don Spencer and was a minor hit in the UK, spending 12 weeks in the UK charts and peaking at number 32.

Barry Gray was a classically trained composer and a versatile musician and was amongst the first composers to use electronic instruments in music for television. Best known for creating the music for most of the Gerry and Sylvia Anderson television series in the 1960s and 70s (Fireball XL5, Thunderbirds, UFO, Space:1999), Barry Gray’s complete musical opus is still not commercially available in its entirety. Fanderson, dedicated to the productions of Gerry Anderson, has gained access to all Barry Gray’s original studio tapes and have undertaken a major re-issue project. Together with Fanderson, Silva Screen Records is championing Barry Gray’s incredible musical opus and is releasing the material in a series of physical and digital albums and vinyl records.

Given the age of this early soundtrack, the music is crisp, clean and has a wide dynamic range. One has to applaud the production team who have really exceeded expectations. As with the rest of the series of albums, the packaging is superb, presented in a thick, sturdy gatefold sleeve and with both platters pressed in a transparent orange vinyl, it really is a thing of beauty and nothing less of what is deserved.

The album is also available on CD format (SILCD1595) and as a digital download.

Rawhead Rex

Released in 1986, horror film Rawhead Rex (SILLP1606) was based on a short story by Clive (Hellraiser) Barker. The tale is set in 1980s rural Ireland. The Demon, alive for millennia and trapped in the depths of Hell, is unleashed on the sleepy local farming community. Remembered faintly through pre-Christian myth, the only one that can stop Rawhead’s bloody rampage is the historian, desperately racing against the time.

Composer Colin Towns is not only one of Europe’s most prolific film, television and theatre composers, but also a pianist, songwriter, arranger, producer and collaborator. His name has graced the credits of many prestigious and popular features. "The first film I scored was Full Circle which starred Mia Farrow and is still in the BFI top ten for best score for horror films. I felt that film was more of a dark scary mystery. Rawhead Rex on the other hand was clearly a horror film 100%. I visited the film set in Ireland during the filming to take in the atmosphere and meet the actors after which I decided to record the music at CTS in London with a sixty piece orchestra plus electronics. I have always orchestrated my own work and had a wild time with Rawhead which is what I really love doing". Colin Towns

Towns, known for The Puppet Masters, Space Truckers, Maybe Baby, Foyle’s War, Doc Martin and Pie in The Sky, created a hugely enjoyable and diverse score for Rawhead Rex. It’s main theme especially conveys plenty of power, tension and full-on threatening brass. However, on the flip side of that, tracks such as ‘Welcome to Ireland’ or ‘The Family is Leaving’ are open and lush with some beautiful use of the string section - all of which makes for a nicely balanced and entirely rewarding mix.

This long-awaited score album is packaged in an attractive gatefold sleeve with both of the LPs pressed in an appropriate blood red vinyl. The soundtrack is also available on CD format (SILCD1606) and as a digital download from Silva screen’s website.

Both the Gerry Anderson and Rawhead Rex releases can be ordered from:

https://www.silvascreen.com/

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

BY DOUG OSWALD

I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s rarely been a bad submarine movie. The typical film in this peculiar genre has a little something for every movie fan: action, adventure, suspense, drama, claustrophobia, torpedoes, mine fields, depth charges and silent running. The plot structure is similar to that of aircraft disaster movies except submarines have to navigate the aforementioned mine fields and depth charges and get to fire torpedoes.

“Torpedo Run” is no exception to my rule. The movie features Glenn Ford as skipper of the Greyfish, Lt. Cmdr. Barney Doyle, and Ernest Borgnine as his executive officer and best friend, Lt. Archer “Archie” Sloan. Like most submarine movies, the action takes place within the narrow passageways of the sub and we get to see a few underwater model shots of the Greyfish diving, navigating a mine field and surviving depth charges.

We do get a change of scenery throughout the movie, primarily in flashbacks of the two friends during happier times just prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor. They’re stationed in the Philippines when Ford receives orders to set sail. Ford’s wife and daughter are captured by the Japanese a short time later and sent to Japan on a POW transport ship.

The transport ship travels along side the aircraft carrier Shinaru, a fictional stand-in for one of the Japanese carriers that launched the air attack on Pearl Harbor. Ford receives word of the Shinaru’s location as well as word that his wife and daughter are being used as human shields along with 1,400 other allied prisoners onboard the transport ship. Sinking the Shinaru will be a huge propaganda boon and moral booster, but launching torpedoes is tricky business and one may hit the transport ship.

Ford fires on the carrier, but hits the transport ship, killing everyone on board including his wife and daughter. Ridden with guilt and filled with vengeance, he’s obsessed with the single minded purpose of destroying the Shinaru. The rest of the movie takes a Melvillian turn with Ford as Ahab seeking out his white whale, the Shinaru.

Ford is terrific as the Greyfish skipper. He’s earnest and believable as Barney Doyle and calls upon his trademark ability to play tough, yet compassionate good guys, as he had in scores of westerns, dramas and light comedies as well as grittier fare such as “Blackboard Jungle,” “Gilda” and “The Big Heat.”

Speaking of earnest, Ernest Borgnine is equally good as Archie Sloan. Borgnine and Ford play off each other rather well in what would be an otherwise routine action movie. Borgnine is one of the great Hollywood character actors known primarily for playing heavies, tough guys and nut-burgers in scores of movies on the big screen. However, he was versatile enough to play the occasional lead and the rare nice guy such as in his Oscar winning turn in “Marty” from 1955.

Retro TV fans will undoubtedly be slightly distracted- as I was- seeing Borgnine in naval uniform. It’s a minor and unintentionally humorous issue because Borgnine is so closely identified as Lt. Cmdr. Quinton McHale, a role he would make his own a few years after the release of this movie in the popular TV comedy series, “McHales’s Navy,” from 1962 to 1966 and in one spin-off movie. I’m almost expecting Borgnine to say, “Okay you guys, knock it off!” and, “Stall ‘em! I don't care how you do it but stall ‘em!” Fortunately, Capt. Binghamton does not turn up shouting, “What is it McHale, what do you want? What, what, what?”

Diane Brewster appears in the only major female role as Ford’s wife Jane Doyle in the flashback scenes. Dean Jones appears as a young officer, Lt. Jake “Fuzzy” Foley. LQ Jones and Don Keefer play crew members and Robert Hardy is on hand as a Royal Navy liaison officer observing the use of the sub’s new sonar equipment.

According to IMDb, there are a couple of uncredited “blink and you’ll miss them” appearances in the movie by retro TV stalwarts Frank Gorshin and Robert Reed who appear as sub crewmen. Virginia Gregg, Maj. Edna Heywood RN in “Operation Petticoat,” provides the voice of Tokyo Rose.

While “Torpedo Run” is not of the same caliber as genuinely classic submarine movies such as “Das Boot,” “Destination Tokyo,” “The Enemy Below,” “The Hunt for Red October,” “On the Beach,” “Operation Pacific,” “Run Silent, Run Deep” and “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.” However, it is very watchable and features all the typical submarine movie clichés in addition to great effects and fine performances by Ford and Borgnine.

The movie was produced and released by MGM in CinemaScope making good use of the widescreen, with nice model sequences and well integrated stock footage. The movie is based on stories by Richard Sale who co-wrote the screenplay. A prolific writer and sometimes director, Sale is best known as the author of “The Oscar” and “White Buffalo,” both of which were adapted as movies.

Released in October 1958, “Torpedo Run” also oddly played on a double bill with “Fiend Without a Face” in November of that year. March 1958 saw the release of the similarly themed submarine movie, “Run Silent, Run Deep,” with Clark Gable and Burt Lancaster. While “Torpedo Run” is a good WWII drama, Ford and Borgnine can’t quite compete with the performances of Gable and Lancaster and Robert Wise’s gritty direction.

“Torpedo Run” is a burn to order region-free DVD released as part of the WB Archive Collection. The movie looks terrific and sounds good. The only extra on the disc is the theatrical trailer. This is a movie that rarely made the rotation on local TV in my area when I was a kid, so it was very refreshing to watch it again after so many years. The film is a welcome addition for any fan of military adventure movies.

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RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

BY LEE PFEIFFER

In the early 1970s producer and director Bob Chinn was one of the most prolific and profitable names in the adult film industry. Chinn's productions may have had skimpy production values but he generally made them look more grandiose than anything competing erotic film producers were able to offer. Like many filmmakers in this bizarre genre, Chinn aspired to do films that were more mainstream and meaningful. He entered a collaboration with Alain Patrick,  a young hunky actor in the Jan-Michael Vincent mode who had his own aspirations to become a respected star. By 1971 Patrick had accumulated some legitimate film and TV credits but always in "blink-and-you'll-miss-him" roles. Like Chinn, he drifted into the adult film industry where he established some credentials as a director. He and Chinn teamed up that year in an attempt to make a mainstream movie about the porn film business. The result was "Blue Money", which has just been rescued from obscurity by Vinegar Syndrome, which has released the film as a special edition Blu-ray/DVD.

"Blue Money" suffers from the same limitations as Bob Chinn's other productions in that it was financed largely by people who expected to get a hardcore porn flick. Thus he was given a budget of $35,000, which was a pittance even in 1971, and a very abbreviated shooting schedule. Under Alain Patrick's direction, however, the movie went in a different direction and became a hybrid between the mainstream and porn film genres. Patrick gives a very credible performance as Jim, a 25 year-old surfer dude type who lives an unusual lifestyle. On the surface he leads an unremarkable existence: he has a pretty wife, Lisa (Barbara Mills) who is a stay-at-home mom who devotes her energies to raising their young daughter. Like most fathers, Jim is a dad who goes off to work every day...except that his "work" is directing pornographic feature films.  Shooting in a seedy makeshift studio, Jim and and his partner sell the finished product to shady distributors who pay them premium prices for master prints of their latest 16mm productions. Because Jim is considered one of the top talents in the industry, theaters are always hungry for his latest films. Ironically, although Jim's career is filming people having sex, he prides himself on remaining loyal to his wife and resists the occasional overtures of his female stars. Jim and Lisa have a joint dream: they are renovating a schooner-type yacht with the quest of quitting the adult film industry and sailing around the world as free spirits.  All of this is put at risk when Jim casts Ingrid (Inga Maria), an exotic European beauty who is desperate for money, in his latest production. Against his better judgment, Jim begins an affair with her- thus endangering his marriage after Lisa starts to become suspicious. At the same time the government is cracking down on the porn business. Suddenly, there is a dearth of distributors to take Jim's films. He is being paid far less than usual- and the entire industry is paranoid about the number of high profile arrests of performers, producers and directors in the porn business. Lisa begs Jim to quit but he wants to take his chances in the hopes of making enough money to finally finish the schooner's renovations and allow him to take his family on their-long planned journey.

"Blue Money" is an interesting production that never found acceptance by any audience. The film received some limited release in mainstream theaters but, although not quite hardcore, it is far too sexual for most general audiences. Conversely, people expecting to see a movie packed with gratuitous sex acts would also have been disappointed. Director Patrick has plenty of sex scenes and full frontal nudity but they are generally confined to the sequences in which we watch the actual filming of porn productions. In that respect, Patrick strips away any glamour or thrills from the process. Bored performers must enact explicit acts under hot klieg lights manned by total strangers. Jim must contend with moody actresses and actors who sometimes loath each other but who must engage in kinky sex. Every time Jim yells "Cut!", arguments can break out or the male leading man finds himself unable to perform on cue. Where the film excels is as a time capsule of sexual mores at the time of its production. There is much talk about the Nixon administration's Commission on Pornography report which had recently been released. Initiated by Nixon's predecessor, President Lyndon Johnson, the report came out during Nixon's first term in office. Nixon was confident that the report would legitimize his belief that pornography had a devastating effect on society- a talking point that would play well with his arch conservative base. Instead, the report basically said that there was no such evidence. Enraged, Nixon denounced the findings of his own commission and set about a crackdown on pornography. Countless man hours and millions of dollars were spent going after theater owners and people who made the films. In "Blue Money", when Jim is eventually arrested, the cops admit that the First Amendment would almost certainly ensure that he would win the court case- but the real strategy is to financially ruin those accused by having them spend their life savings on defending themselves. This gives the movie a hook that extends beyond the soap opera-like storyline centered on Jim's fragile relationship with his wife. The movie has a polished look to it and most of the performances are quite credible, with Patrick and Barbara Mills very good indeed.

BY DARREN ALLISON

In 1965, maverick British producer and writer Harry Alan Towers (The Bloody Judge) scored a hit with The Face of Fu Manchu, a thrilling revival of Sax Rohmer’s super-villain imperiously portrayed by Christopher Lee. Powerhouse/Indicator have lovingly brought together all five films in the series and in the process produced a rather spectacular collection.

Christopher Lee was of course no stranger to playing maniacal, Asian characters. He had already played Chung King, leader of the Red Dragon Tong's in Hammer’s movie The Terror of the Tongs (1961) directed by Anthony Bushell. Tall, dark and menacing in his stature, Lee was perfect casting for novelist Sax Rohmer’s notorious Chinese criminal mastermind. Produced by Harry Alan Towers and Oliver A. Unger, The Face of Fu Manchu was a British / West German co-production. Behind the camera was Australian-born British film director Don Sharp, a man who had made some fine film’s for Hammer including The Kiss of the Vampire (1961) and The Devil-Ship Pirates (1964) also starring Christopher Lee.

The film sets out in rather unusual style with the apparent beheading of Fu Manchu. Where do we go from here one might ask? Back in London, his nemesis Nayland Smith (superbly played by Nigel Green), becomes increasingly concerned that Dr. Fu Manchu is not only still alive – but also back and operating in London. The kidnapping of Professor Muller (German actor Walter Rilla) unravels a plot involving a potentially lethal solution created from the seeds of a rare Tibetan flower: the Blackhill poppy. Fu Manchu learns that the poppy seed's poison can be used as a weapon and that just a pint of this solution is powerful enough to kill every person and animal in London. And so begins the classic encounter between good and evil.

It is naturally a perfect example of pulp fiction in its purist form. Producer Towers (as writer Peter Welbeck) seems to relish in his comic book approach, and in fairness, it all works incredibly well and to great effect. One has to remember that these films were made as family-orientated adventures, although some minor cuts were made in order to retain its ‘U’ certificate which obviously made good business sense. Unlike the ‘X’ certified Terror of the Tongs which contained much darker, adult themes, Fu Manchu, in its context is more like a Bulldog Drummond mystery or perhaps a Charlie Chan adventure from the forties or fifties. It succeeds in creating a perfect balance of dramatic excitement and a sense of innocent, harmless fun – all of which is indicative of its period.

Powerhouse/Indicator has produced a wonderful presentation of the film. Restored from a 4K scan of the original negative, the Techniscope frame and Technicolor print has never looked so good, revealing sharp detail and a rich, vibrant colour palette. Blacks are deep and solid and work especially well in contrast to the silky fabrics of Lee’s costuming. The audio (its original mono) is also clear and clean without any evidence of hiss or pops. It’s clear that these films have been worked upon with a great degree of love and care. Powerhouse has also offered a choice of two versions of the film. It was revealed at the time of production, reel 3 of the original negative contained a degree of damage to the left side of frame. This was dealt with at the time by zooming in on certain shots for the cinema prints and thereby eliminating the damage from view. Subsequent prints (for TV and other media formats) have always used the same ‘fixed’ theatrical version. However, for the first time, Powerhouse has offered the option to view the original print in its uncorrected version. Whilst the damage is of course still evident, it does however provide the opportunity of viewing the film without the use of panning or the post-production corrective fix. It’s a nice little touch on the part of Powerhouse and one which is bound to please the purists.

The wealth of bonus material is also very impressive. Firstly, there’s an enjoyable, fact-filled audio commentary with genre-film experts, critics and authors Stephen Jones and Kim Newman recorded in 2020. Other bonus extras include an archival Interview with Don Sharp – Part One: From Hobart to Hammer (1993, 96 mins) made as part of the British Entertainment History Project, featuring Sharp in conversation with Teddy Darvas and Alan Lawson; the BEHP Interview with Ernest Steward – Part One: The BIP Years (1990, 96 mins): archival audio recording of an interview with the respected cinematographer, also made as part of the British Entertainment History Project. There’s a b/w archival interview with Christopher Lee (1965, 4 mins); an extract from the Irish television programme Newsbeat, filmed during location shooting in Dublin. Vic Pratt Introduces ‘The Face of Fu Manchu’ (2020, 7 mins), an appreciation by the BFI curator. Underneath the Skin (2020, 49 mins) in which broadcaster, educationalist and author of The Yellow Peril: Dr Fu Manchu & The Rise of Chinaphobia, the wonderful Sir Christopher Frayling examines the origin, history and reputation of Sax Rohmer’s works. There are also a few alternative titles and credits sequences. For those of a certain age, there are Super 8mm versions: cut-down home cinema presentations which provide a nostalgic trip down memory lane. Original UK, German and French theatrical trailers and a generous image gallery featuring promotional posters, photos and publicity material round off this impressive world premiere on Blu-ray.

Due to the success of The Face of Fu Manchu – especially in America- producer Harry Alan Towers wasted very little time by setting the wheels in motion for a hasty sequel. Hoping to achieve the same success, Towers again pulled in West Germany’s Constantin Films along with his own Hallam Productions to co-finance the next project, The Brides of Fu Manchu (1966). Regardless of a very busy 1966, (a year that also included Hammer’s ‘back-to-back’ productions of Dracula: Prince of Darkness and Rasputin, the Mad Monk), Towers nevertheless managed to secure his leading man Christopher Lee. He was also fortunate enough to have original director Don Sharp sign again on the dotted line.

The story once again revolves around world domination, this time through the use radio waves which can carry destructive blast frequencies. In order to carry out his plan, Fu Manchu has kidnapped the daughters of prominent scientists whom he blackmails into helping him create his deadly transmitter. It was a simple enough narrative, written again in easy, comic book style by Harry Alan Towers. The great loss to this particular film is that of Nigel Green as Nayland Smith. Smith is this time played by Douglas Wilmer, an actor that had just played Sherlock Holmes in the TV series of 1965. Wilmer fits the role perfectly well and proves he can handle himself when it comes to the obligatory fist fight with the dacoits. However, he doesn’t quite possess the same regimented and commanding drive displayed by that of Nigel Green. As with his later portrayals of Dracula, Lee also has far less demanding role in The Brides of Fu Manchu. His presence is still dominating but he has far less to do. Here he seems more comfortable behind a control or instrument panel. In fact, it’s his depraved daughter Lin Tang (Tsai Chin) who this time takes a far more active role alongside lead henchman Feng (played wonderful by Burt Kwouk) who almost steals the show. Everything here though is all sufficiently menacing and a great deal of fun.

Powerhouse has again delivered where it counts. Creating a newly restored transfer from a 4K scan of the original negative, the film looks beautiful and includes the original BBFC theatrical card. Director Don Sharp this time opted to drop the Techniscope process (probably due to Towers ever tightening of the budget) and instead chose to use a standard 1.85:1 lens – but thankfully this never distracts or lessons the overall viewing pleasure or impact. The rich greens, golds and pinks of the costuming again appear so rich. The restoration also reveals a much greater depth, particularly those cantered in the subterranean chamber; another beautifully lit set which looks far greater on screen than in probably was in reality. Every element of these scenes is greatly enhanced and benefit hugely from the new restoration. Powerhouse has also satisfied the purists by sensibly utilizing the cleaned original mono audio.

The disc’s bonus material is also impressive and contains a full audio commentary, this time provided by film historians Kevin Lyons and Jonathan Rigby (2020). Then there is a continuation of the BEHP Interview with Don Sharp – Part Two: A Director of Substance (1993, 95 mins) and Part 2 of the BEHP Interview with Ernest Steward: From Teddington to ‘Carry On’ (1990, 93 mins). Then there’s a real treat in the shape of The Guardian interview with Christopher Lee (1994, 87 mins): a wide-ranging onstage interview with the legendary actor, conducted by the film critic David Robinson. Lee was renowned as a great talker, and this is no exception. The iconic actor delves deep and concise providing the audience with a rare insight of the business and a feast of industry stories. BFI curator Vic Pratt provides another unique and newly filmed introduction to The Brides of Fu Manchu (2020, 7 mins). Pages of Peril (2020, 21 mins): has genre-film expert, critic and author Kim Newman discuss Sax Rohmer and the Fu Manchu novels. The film’s original theatrical trailer, a b/w TV spot and an Image gallery containing production photos, promotional and publicity material round off the world premiere Blu-ray very nicely.

BY FRED BLOSSER

Kino Lorber Studio Classics has released “Against All Flags,” a 1952 pirate movie from Universal-International, in a new Blu-ray edition. In the opening scene, British naval Lt. Brian Hawke (Errol Flynn) endures a shipboard flogging in front of a stern-faced audience of enlisted men and fellow officers. It isn’t clear what crime he’s charged with. Cowardice? Disobeying orders? Breaking into the admiral’s rum supply? Not that it matters, because as we quickly learn, the whipping is only a cover story. Publicly, Hawke is a disgraced man. Privately, he’s assigned to infiltrate a troublesome pirate stronghold on Madagascar. There, posing as disgruntled turncoats, he and two loyal subordinates will covertly locate and disable the camouflaged batteries of cannon that protect the island. This will clear the way for a British warship to safely swoop in and get rid of the miscreants. One of Hawke’s assistants is played by busy 1950s character actor John “Basher” Alderson. You may be excused if you mistake Alderson for the equally prolific Bruce Glover from “Diamonds Are Forever” (1971) and “Chinatown” (1974). The two actors looked remarkably alike.

On Madagascar, Hawke insinuates himself into the pirate brotherhood even though one of the senior captains, Roc Brasiliano (Anthony Quinn), continues to question his motives. Roc’s distrust of the newcomer is further fueled by jealousy. Red-haired lady pirate Spitfire Stevens (Maureen O’ Hara) has resisted the buccaneer’s heavy-handed advances, but she’s reluctantly attracted to Hawke, and the chemistry is mutual. Then Spitfire’s temper flares when the lieutenant takes an interest in a young princess (Alice Kelley) captured during a raid on a treasure ship. Hawke tries to keep the situation platonic -- he watches over the girl to make sure she isn’t abused by the pirates -- but Spitfire interprets his motives as sexual. The sheltered Princess Patma wishes they were, dreamily insisting “Again,” after she coaxes a kiss from Hawke. The lieutenant’s dilemma is played for laughs, with an obvious wink-wink-nudge-nudge for viewers aware of Errol Flynn’s offscreen reputation in the bedroom. In 1952, that would have been everybody in the movie theater. Hollywood is a lot more skittish about such things today, justifiably so. Hawke enlists the aid of the princess’ tutor (Mildred Natwick) to hide Patma’s identity, lest the pirates use her as a royal hostage. Thus, the lieutenant has to juggle several tricky tasks at once as Spitfire fumes and Roc watches for an excuse to tie Hawke to a stake at low tide to be eaten by crabs. (Did Ian Fleming take notes for “Doctor No”?)

The Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu-ray edition of “Against All Flags” restores the movie’s ravishing Technicolor in a notable upgrade over previous home-video releases, not to mention decades of inferior TV prints. As film historian Stephen Vagg notes in his audio commentary, Technicolor and the A-list casting of Flynn, O’Hara, and Quinn are the production’s distinguishing virtues. Otherwise, at the standard screen aspect of 1.37:1 and a thrifty running time of 84 minutes, it doesn’t particularly stand out from the dozens of other pirate adventures that emerged from Universal-International, Columbia, 20th Century Fox, and RKO in the late 1940s and early 1950s. At that, O’Hara’s flaming tresses had already been on Technicolor display in “The Black Swan” (1942) and “The Spanish Main” (1945). Vagg’s engaging commentary covers a wide range of topics, including the careers of the three stars, the history of pirate movies, and the real-life buccaneers represented in the picture, including a Black pirate captain portrayed by Emmett Smith. A Black character as a peer among white equals would be unremarkable casting now, but it was a progressive statement on racial equality for its time. Fans will be pleased that Vagg gives a shout-out to “Swordsmen of the Screen,” Jeffrey Richards’ rousing 1977 study of swashbuckling cinema. The Kino Lorber release also includes the movie’s theatrical trailer.

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(Fred Blosser is the author of "Sons of Ringo: The Great Spaghetti Western Heroes". Click here to order from Amazon)

BY BRUCE CLARK

Australia during COVID is largely a nation in lockdown, some States worse than others, with State borders closed to travel, or exemptive paperwork checked as you cross. The national death toll has now exceeded 700, and the State that has suffered most is Victoria. The comedian Ross Noble has commented that Australia is currently like a Spice Girls reunion – everyone’s trying really hard, but Victoria keeps letting us down. Ouch…

The capital of Victoria is Melbourne, the one Australian city that rivals Sydney in size and appeal, and probably exceeds it in cosmopolitanism. With the city under curfew, the newspapers daily feature disturbing photographs of the streets standing empty and bleak. The images suggest the end of the world, but Melbourne has already been there. In the movies.

These same streets were rendered deserted once before …by Hollywood…for the filming of Stanley Kramer’s apocalyptic movie “On the Beach” in 1959. The contemporary newspaper shots bear a chilly resemblance to the production stills from that film. Did Hollywood get it right again? Was Stanley Kramer more prescient than he could ever have believed?

A final shot in the movie - again filmed in a Melbourne Street, outside the Victorian Parliament House from where today the Premier fights a valiant battle against COVID - features a Salvation Army banner reading “THERE IS STILL TIME…BROTHER”; while the usual overblown publicity called it “The Biggest Story of Our Time”, warning that “If you never see another motion picture in your life, you MUST see ‘On the Beach’.” For once, was the hyperbole deserved? Double Nobel prize-winning scientist Linus Pauling said: “It may be that some years from now we can look back and say that ‘On the Beach’ is the movie that saved the world”. That’s some commendation.

Kramer was big on messages: “High Noon”, “Judgement at Nuremberg”, “Inherit the Wind”, “Ship of Fools”, “The Defiant Ones”, “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” – yes, it’s a mad, mad, mad, mad world. “On the Beach” was another of Kramer’s warnings, a more than appropriate one at a time when the Cuban Missile Crisis was just around the corner.

“On the Beach” is a movie depicting the last days of a dying world; dying from fallout caused by a nuclear war in the Northern Hemisphere. It seems that some “horrible misunderstanding” launched such a war. “Fail Safe” and “Dr Strangelove” were still to come; horrible misunderstandings, it seems, were to become de rigueur as a means of triggering an apocalypse. After all, how else would a nuclear war begin? Life in the North has largely disappeared. The Antipodes have been untouched by the actual war, but guess what, folks…the radiation is on the way, and death is inevitable. Hence those damning empty streets, once cleared for filming, now eerily empty for real.

“On the Beach” was based on a novel by Nevil Shute published in 1957. Shute was a British engineer who worked on the first British airship and helped the Royal Navy develop experimental weapons for D-Day. Following the old story of the insider being the one to see the dangers, he soon began to warn the post-war world of the proliferation of nuclear weapons. The scientist in the movie…one Mr Fred Astaire…yes, that one…explains: “The devices outgrew us. We couldn’t control them. I know. I helped build them, God help me.” The novel is prefaced by the now-familiar T.S. Eliot quote: “This is the way the world ends…not with a bang but a whimper”. The theme, it seems, was self-evident after that.

Shute had started writing adventure novels at night, and was extremely prolific. While his style was highly criticised, he was a top-selling author for some decades, remembering this is the era of such prosaic but successful authors as Alistair MacLean. “On the Beach” is said to have sold over four million copies world-wide, and is reputed to have knocked “Peyton Place” from Number One sales position in the U.S. How did that happen? Critic Gideon Haigh claims that with this novel “Shute had published arguably Australia’s most important novel…confronting (an) international audience to the possibility of…thermonuclear extinction”. So what’s the Australian connection?

Post-war, Nevil Shute had visited Australia and saw in it a place of greater refuge perhaps than war-torn Europe. He moved with his family to Melbourne and proceeded apace with his literary career. Another best-seller of Shute’s was “A Town Like Alice”, the town being Alice Springs in the Northern Territory. This was filmed in 1956 starring Virginia McKenna and Aussie Peter Finch, and re-made as a television mini-series in 1981 with Bryan Brown and Helen Morse. Incidentally, Bryan Brown also starred, along with his wife Rachel Ward and Armand Assante (in the lead role), in the 2000 television series of “On the Beach”. Brown played the Fred Astaire role of the scientist!

Kramer had a number of problems getting “On the Beach” to the screen, not the least of which was Nevil Shute who disowned the soft-soaping of such an important theme, and the immorality of the screenplay with its suggestion of adultery. United Artists also saw problems, requiring the film to be tamed for wider public consumption. There was, after all, explicit reference to euthanasia as a major plot element, and though radiation was the killer here, the film certainly avoids anything like nasty blistering and any other physical deformity. The U.S. Navy was in no mood to supply the nuclear submarine required for the film. A British diesel sub, HMS Andrew, on loan to the Australian Navy, was dressed up for the part, while the Australian Navy had no problem with allowing filming on board the aircraft carrier HMAS Melbourne.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Ennio Morricone, the Oscar-winning and prolific film composer, has died in Rome at age 91 from complications resulting from a fall that had left him with a fractured hip. In the course of his career, Morricone rose from composing music for little-seen Italian films to becoming an icon of the movie industry. He worked virtually non-stop, turning out a head-spinning number of film scores. However, it was his collaborations with director Sergio Leone that brought him to international attention. When United Artists head of production David V. Picker saw Leone's A Fistful of Dollars  and For a Few Dollars More, both of which had been sensations at the European boxoffice, he purchased the distribution rights for the movies for English language territories. He also agreed to finance the third and final film in the series, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. The films proved to be sensations worldwide and audiences responded enthusiastically to Morricone's quirky scores. His music for The Good, the Bad and the Ugly remains one of the most iconic main film themes ever composed, rivaled only, perhaps, by the James Bond Theme. Morricone's work was highly original, and for the Italian westerns often included full choirs singing intentionally unintelligible words. Ironically, in the United States, Morricone's main theme for "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" became a major hit on the radio, but it was a cover version performed by Hugo Montenegro and his orchestra. Even after the success of the Leone Western trilogy, Morricone continued to compose scores for low-grade Italian films. One of the most amusing was "O.K. Connery", the title song for the 1967 James Bond spoof "Operation Kid Brother" which starred Sean Connery's brother Neil. The film (currently streaming on Amazon Prime) was dreadful but you might find yourself humming Morricone's catchy opening song. Morricone teamed again with Sergio Leone for another western masterpiece "Once Upon a Time in the West", as his star rose internationally and he became increasingly revered by film enthusiasts worldwide.

Over the course of decades, Morricone retained his status as a workaholic composer. In 2006, he received an honorary Oscar for his lifetime achievements. It was  presented to him, appropriately enough, by Clint Eastwood, star of the Leone "Dollars" trilogy. Morricone continued to compose non-film scores that were acclaimed in their own right and often performed by him in live concerts that were always hot ticket events. However, it was the movies that cemented his legendary status. He had been nominated for numerous Oscars before winning in for his score for Quentin Tarantino's 2015 film "The Hateful Eight". His influence continues today. "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" theme is currently heard in a TV commercial, as is his magnificent composition from that film, "The Ecstasy of Gold", which is the signature theme for Modelo beer commercials.

For more about Morricone's career, click here to read obituary by Jon Burlingame of Variety.

The Mary Millington Movie Collection Limited Edition Blu-Ray Box-Set  (UK, Region 2 release).

An interview with historian and documentary filmmaker Simon Sheridan

BY ADRIAN SMITH

In June 2020 Screenbound are releasing a limited edition Blu-ray box set in the U.K. dedicated to the films of one of Britain’s most celebrated and tragic erotic film stars, Mary Millington. Historian Simon Sheridan has spent years researching her life (his book Come Play with Me: The Life and Films of Mary Millington was published in 1999) and has overseen this new collection.

Cinema Retro: How did you begin this lifelong quest to tell Mary Millington’s story? When did you first discover her?

Simon Sheridan: I’m not sure I can tell you this story! I was a curious schoolboy. I happened upon some porn mags when I was a young boy. It wasn’t in a bush, but someone I knew had these porn mags. I’m not going to reveal who! She was in copies of Playbirds and Whitehouse throughout the 1980s so I saw this beautiful woman, but they were talking about her in the past tense, and the articles next to these very explicit photographs said she had died at the age of 33. These kind of things just stayed with me throughout my life, that this woman who posed in the post explicit manner and was prepared to pretty much do anything on camera had died so young. She has always fascinated me, and the more I research and learn about her life, I just think, “What a great human being she was.” She really fought for people’s rights to enjoy pornography. People ask me what Mary was like: she was this 4’11" ex-veterinary nurse from Surrey who took on the force of the Establishment at a time when society was not mature enough to believe that people could be happy and work in the sex industry. What a brave woman she was. She was a pioneer, there was nobody like her at the time. When I went to university I wrote my dissertation on her, and then I wrote my book, then I worked on her film releases, then made my movie, and now this box set. So this was how I came upon Mary, so to speak.

CR: Could you tell us more about what the boxed set features? Is it every film she ever appeared in?

SS: It is all the films she made for publisher David Sullivan. When Come Play with Me came out in April 1977 it was promoted as Mary Millington’s first film, but of course it wasn’t her first. She had made quite a few before she went on to become a big star through Come Play with Me (1977). The other films are The Playbirds (1978), Confessions from the David Galaxy Affair (1979), Queen of the Blues (1979), Mary Millington’s True Blue Confessions (1980) and Mary Millington’s World Striptease Extravaganza (1981), along with my feature documentary Respectable: The Mary Millington Story (2015).

CR: True Blue Confessions is such an interesting and unusual film.

SS: I’ve known David Sullivan for over twenty years, and when I first met him one of the films I really wanted to talk about was True Blue Confessions. I was astonished when I first saw it. It’s so visceral. It’s so brutal. In 1980 you didn’t really know what went on in celebrities’ lives. When Mary died it was in the newspapers, but all the stuff about drugs and prostitution wasn’t really reported, but it’s all in True Blue Confessions. It’s a very honest look at her life, quite unlike anything else that had been made in this country, or anything to do with the porn world. It probably shocked a lot of people, but it was a huge hit. It played for weeks and weeks. People were fascinated to see what the truth was behind Mary, although of course most of that film isn’t true! There’s a lot of elaboration, but at the heart of it there is some truth to her story. It’s always fascinated me. I’ve probably watched that one more than any of her other films. David will argue until the end of time that that was not an exploitation film. It was not there to make money. When Mary died it was completely sudden, the general public had no idea this was going to happen. She was the sex superstar who was going to go on and on. David was inundated with tens of thousands of letters. She was like the pornographic Princess Diana. Fans were just bereft and couldn’t believe it, so he brought out these tribute magazines which had her autobiography in it. She wrote an autobiography in 1978 that is half true, half faked, which was written with her probation officer, and those tribute magazines sold by the shedload. I think David did about thirteen or fourteen different ones. They kept being reprinted, so David felt compelled to also do something for the cinema about her life. He always says he was trying to make Mary more famous in death than when she was alive.

CR: How has it been possible for these films to be restored? Where were the original elements all these years?

SS: I had been nagging David for ages about where the original film negatives and reels were, and he had a warehouse in Barking, where he stored all the products for his U.K. sex shops. I went there with him and it was filled with racks of magazines and boxes of sex toys. There in the corner of this warehouse were these wooden pallets piled high with these huge tin reels with scrappy labels. They were rusting on these pallets. It was very exciting for me to see them. I said he should have them stored somewhere better, instead of in the corner of a warehouse full of rubber sex toys. These were worth preserving. He said, “Are they really, Simon?” Yes they are! A deal was done with the BFI and they took them and stored them in their archive in Berkhamsted, where they were frozen at a certain temperature. They’ve been there for about ten years. They were used to make DVDs, and it’s now taken a long time to make the Blu-rays. Initially, I was told British sex films would not sell on Blu-ray, but then a couple of years ago Screenbound told me they wanted to bring the Mary Millington films out on Blu-ray. I was beside myself with joy! This was the dream project. We got them restored in London by Final Frame. Come Play with Me and The Playbirds were not shot on the best film stock. These were David’s first films, and they were using little scraps of films, offcuts, to shoot these things. The later films were shot on much better quality film. But I’ve seen them now and they do look really good.

(Above: Raphael Peter Engel (aka Zandor Vorkov) today.

BY MARK CERULLI

When you think of Dracula, some iconic names immediately come to mind – Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee, Gary Oldman, Jack Palance… and Raphael Engel.

Wait.

Who?

Raphael Peter Engel, aka “Zandor Vorkov” played the thirsty count in one of the most unique films to feature the immortal character – 1971’s Dracula vs Frankenstein, made by the prolific B-movie team of director Al Adamson and co-writer/producer Sam Sherman.

Both the actor and the film itself took a very circuitous route to come into being. Born in Cleveland, Ohio, Raphael (then known as Roger) grew up with a younger brother in Miami, Florida. “We did Saturday matinees – two films, cartoons, a short, popcorn and I’d walk down many blocks to the theater…”, Raphael recalls in an exclusive Cinema Retro interview. “That influenced me. We’d come home and play the characters we had seen.”

He shipped out to Vietnam in 1965, coming under enemy fire as soon as he stepped off the troop carrier. After serving a year in the Army – “I made it out without a scratch,” – Engel returned to late 1960s New York where he managed record stores in Gotham’s Greenwich village while soaking up the era’s vibrant music scene. A collector of life stories, one of his favorites is helping Stevie Wonder make some record choices on a Christmas Eve. He also hung out with music producer Gary Katz (Steely Dan, Jim Croce) and drifted into the world of film finance. (Contrary to popular belief, he was never a stockbroker.) Raphael didn’t know it, but this was all leading up to his donning Dracula’s cape.

Dracula Vs Frankenstein started out as a totally different film – Satan’s Blood Freaks, later titled The Blood Seekers and meant to be a sequel to Sherman and Adamson’s 1969 effort, Satan’s Sadists (“The First Biker Horror Movie!”). Tapping into national unease over the Manson murders, marauding biker gangs and occultism, Satan’s Sadists was a hit.

Satan’s Blood Freaks/The Blood Seekers starred The Wolfman himself, Lon Chaney Jr. (in his final role), J. Carrol Naish (his final role), Al Adamson’s wife, Regina Carrol (billed as “the Freak Out Girl” in Satan Sadists), Angelo Rossitto from 1932’s Freaks and returning cast member Russ Tamblyn – more famous for his work in West Side Story. The plot followed a mad doctor Durea (Naish) hiding out in a seaside sideshow, whose lumbering henchman (Chaney) murdered people on the beach so he could reanimate their bodies. The results were… disappointing at best. There was talk of just shelving the film, but Sherman wanted to take a crack at fixing it – by introducing the iconic characters of Dracula and the Frankenstein monster. As he was rewriting the script, he and Adamson arranged a screening of their film and Raphael was there with a financier. Although Sherman wanted to tap John Carradine to play Dracula (as he had in Universal’s House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula), they didn’t want to pay his fee. Adamson took note of the tall, gaunt, assistant with the jet black Afro and popped the question, “How’d you like to play Count Dracula?” Funnily enough, Raphael didn’t even like horror films but he accepted the challenge. “It became an adventure,” Raphael says, adding, “When I commit to something, I really care about people and want to do the best I can so I pushed through my own resistance and thought, ‘How do I play this role?’”

Although he recalled seeing Lugosi’s epic performance (“It definitely set the tone for everything…”) Raphael tried to make the part his own. “I did everything I could to embody what my young self understood a vampire (to be).” How did he rate his turn as the Count? “It was different. to say the least. The other guys who played it were subtler and didn’t have long curly hair and I was younger.”

While the film was decidedly low budget, it was a fairly easy shoot. “There was no tension there except with J. Caroll Naish, who we found out later was hurting like mad (due to osteoporosis.)” Raphael remembers. “Angelo (Rossitto) kept to himself… I never remember him smiling… Regina Carrol was as nice as could be and John Bloom (the Frankenstein monster) was in makeup for hours.” (Sam Sherman has a memorable tale of seeing the 7-foot Bloom becoming more and more impatient in the makeup chair. Finally, the producer said, “John, what else do you have to do?” Bloom replied, “It’s tax season. I’m an accountant!”) Lon Chaney’s scenes had been shot two years earlier, so young Raphael never got a chance to meet the Wolfman. (Chaney, a heavy smoker and drinker, was suffering from throat cancer during production and died of heart failure in 1973.)

Dr. Durea’s (Frankenstein) lab scenes were shot at the Hollywood Stages in West Hollywood, utilizing studio alleys and the soundstage roof. Although done on the cheap, the production did utilize the same electro-magnetic gear from 1931’s Frankenstein, created by electrical effects wizard, Kenneth Strickfaden. “It kept me on my toes,” Raphael recalled. “I walked onto the set and somebody said ‘Stay back, Drac’ those are live!” Along with genuine camp, the film offers a rare opportunity to see the original Frankenstein electric gear in color.

Another member of the eclectic cast was longtime Famous Monsters of Filmland editor, Forrest J. Ackerman, playing an enemy of Dr. Frankenstein’s. Dracula appears in his car, directing him to a spot where the Frankenstein monster is waiting. Raphael remembers the legendary editor as being “A nice guy… he was really into it.” Ackerman returned the favor by putting Raphael on the cover of Famous Monsters issue #89. “That was an honor,” he says. (Ackerman also came up with Raphael’s distinctive screen name – “Zandor”, from Church of Satan founder Anton Szandor LaVey and “Vorkov” because it sorta sounded like Karloff!)

(Above: J.Carroll Naish with Forry Ackerman on the set.)

Originally the film was supposed to end with the count being impaled on a pipe as Regina Carrol escaped with her beau (Hawaiian Eye star Anthony Eisley). Sam Sherman considered that ending to be weak so he came up with a new one taking place in an abandoned church. Raphael and Carrol were flown back East and the climax was filmed in rural Somers, New York. Not having the funds to fly John Bloom in, the monster was played by Raphael’s former record store boss, Shelly Weiss. (“We just need a big guy who we could make up and follow directions… and he (Shelly) went nuts, he loved it and he got to tell everybody that story.”)

“They gave me a different cloak and they handed me some Halloween plastic teeth, somebody put clown white all over me and that made for a fun movie,” Raphael recalls with a laugh. Yes, the Count was wearing those upper and lower cheapo plastic fangs every 1960s kid wore at Halloween!

(Above: Regina Carrol and Lon Chaney Jr. in a candid moment.)

Fake fangs or not, Dracula literally tears the monster limb from limb, finally ripping off his head. Dracula’s shocking act of violence is totally at odds with the gentle, civic-minded actor. “Everybody who knows me said ‘You did what?’” Raphael recalls. Three years later, Monty Python’s Terry Gilliam riffed off the grisly sequence with the memorable scene of King Arthur (Graham Chapman) dismembering the Black Knight (John Cleese) in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Interestingly, Gilliam once worked with Sam Sherman at Warren Publications, publisher of Famous Monsters.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kenny Rogers, who overcame a hardscrabble upbringing to become a country music legend, has died at age 81. Rogers was a prolific talent. Inspired by seeing Ray Charles in concert, he decided to become a singer and was part of the New Christy Minstrels folk group in the early 1960s. Rogers then became part of the counter-culture revolution in music later in the decade. Many people probably don't realize that he was the lead vocal on the First Edition's `1967 hard rock, psychedelic hit "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)". He later found his niche in country western music and during the 1970s and 1980s became one of the most successful singers of the era, with tens of millions of albums sold. Rogers' iconic ballad "The Gambler" became massively popular and spurred a successful, if short-lived acting career in the 1980s based on a series of TV movies inspired by the song. Rogers' popularity didn't extend to the big screen, however. His 1982 feature film "Six Pack" was a family comedy that proved to be only moderately successful at the boxoffice. Music was his bread and butter and Rogers had the ability to cross over into audiences that generally rejected country and western music, making him one of the most celebrated singers of his time. For more, click here.

BY JOHN M. WHALEN 

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood there was a writer who was something of a living legend. Between 1955 and 1975, screenwriter Stirling Silliphant wrote hundreds of television scripts and over his lifetime of 78 years, was credited by the Writers Guild with 200 movie scripts. He created and wrote over 150 teleplays just for “Route 66,” and “Naked City,” alone – two TV series that are considered arguably among the best written television dramas of this or any time. In a 1963 article, Time magazine quoted a producer who said that Stirling Silliphant was “almost inhuman . . . a writing machine . . . the fingers of God.” He was not only prolific, he was good. He won an Academy Award for adapting “In the Heat of the Night” (1967), starring Sidney Poitier; was one of the creative forces behind the production and writing of the Shaft movies; gave Bruce Lee his first role in an American feature film (“Marlowe” 1969); wrote the classic disaster movies “The Poseidon Adventure (1972),” and “The Towering Inferno” (1974); turned to novel writing; and eventually expatriated to Thailand, where he said he felt a spiritual connection, and eventually died. But by that time—and such is the fate of the writer in Tinseltown—he had almost become a forgotten man.

Silliphant’s early writing had a distinctive quality. He wrote stories that used to be described as the kind that “hit you where you live.” When he was writing at his best, his created characters that had a strong impact on you and his dialogue was a powerful mixture of poetry and gritty realism. The same year he wrote “The Poseidon Adventure,” he was hired to adapt “The New Centurions” (1972) from a novel by Joseph Wambaugh. In an interview, Silliphant said by that time he wrote this script his whole approach to screenwriting had changed. He dropped the poetry and wrote more realistic dialogue. He said he used to write paragraphs of almost novelistic description. But when he wrote “The New Centurions,” when describing a room in one scene he used just one word: shitty.

“The New Centurions” follows five years in the lives of three Los Angeles cops, starting with their days in the academy and ending with a grim finish for one of them. Stacy Keach plays Roy, a married man serving on the force while he attends law school. He and his wife Dorothy (Jane Alexander) are looking forward to the day he can quit being a cop and become a lawyer. Gus (Scott Wilson) is a less complicated man; all he wants in life is “to be a good cop.” But his aspirations get tossed in a trash can when he accidentally shoots the owner of a dry cleaners, mistaking him for one of the perps robbing the place. The third recruit, Sergio (Eric Estrada) is a Latino, a former gang member, who has risen from the ghetto, and faces a challenge when riots break out in his old neighborhood.

But towering above these three, is Sgt. Andy Kilvinski (George C. Scott), a seasoned veteran who serves not only as a mentor to the new recruits but is also a kind of spiritual force holding the whole precinct together. Everything is done according to “Kilvinski’s law,” which could be summed up as follows: “If a guy comes at you with his fists, use your night stick,” Kilvinski tells Roy. “If he come at you with a knife, use your gun. Cancel his ticket right then and there.”

On night shift Kilvinski reveals his secret for keeping hookers off the streets. Instead of arresting and booking them, he picks them up in a paddy wagon, buys them some vodka and milk, and lets them get drunk while he drives them around listening to the wild tales they have to tell about their latest tricks. “It’s illegal as hell,” Kilvinski says, “but nobody’s hurt and it saves a lot of paperwork and time spent in court rooms.”

BY TODD GARBARINI

The 1960s and 1970s had their share of genre films that were popular with audiences. One of the most prolific was the biker film which, along with the horror film, were showcased to many audiences through the beloved and nearly extinct drive-in theatres. The genre reached a level of respectability in 1969 with the release of Dennis Hopper’s Easy Rider which played at the Cannes Film Festival and went on to gross an estimated 160 times its production budget of $375,000. Little wonder why producers and filmmakers alike jumped on the biker film bandwagon. Easy Rider helped put Jack Nicholson on the map following his appearances in Richard Rush’s Hell’s Angels on Wheels (1967) and the then-forthcoming The Rebel Rousers (1970) by Martin B. Cohen.

Lee Madden’s 1970 outing Angel Unchained came on the heels, or tires if you will, of Easy Rider and tells a familiar story that dates back many years, wherein one group helps a second group fight a third group when the third group makes it known that they don’t like the second group. It’s a familiar theme that was used to similar effect eleven years later in George Miller’s 1981 futuristic action film The Road Warrior when the titular hero, in desperate need of the now difficult-to-come-by gasoline, agrees to help a group of oil refiners fight against a hostile band of marauders who want their digs. The proverbial message of Angel Unchained is “Live and let live.” Angel, played with characteristic aplomb by Don Stroud, is in his mid-thirties and is tired of being a rebel-rousing biker following a brutal fight inside an amusement park. As part of the Exiles MC (short of “motorcycle club”), he wants to go off on his own and do his own thing, whatever that thing might be. Peacefully relinquishing his colors to Pilot (Larry Bishop) he successfully leaves the club and, while stopping for gas, encounters a group of hippies who are told by the gas station attendant that the station is closed. Sensing disdain for the hippies, he follows them to their commune and gravitates to Merilee (Tyne Daly mistakenly wearing a tablecloth for a dress) and starts up a kinda-sorta relationship with her. It turns out that the gas station thugs headed up by Tom (Jordan Rhodes) and Dave (Peter Lawrence) don’t take nicely to the hippies and want them off the land, threatening them with a fight if they don’t leave.

Prodded into action by a member of the commune, Angel returns to his MC to ask his former fellow riders to help him fight the thugs on behalf of the hippie commune members who are, unfortunately, pacifists. They begrudgingly go along with Angel who introduces them to the commune and what could have been a serious and introspective look at interpersonal relationships and how factions and group dynamics operate for a common goal instead becomes an excuse to show off lots of destructive and adolescent-like behavior and a set piece that includes, of all things, a battle on dune buggies!

Had the film been placed in the hands of Monte Hellman this might have been an existential under-the-microscope look at a drifter meandering around pondering the meaning of life and trying to figure out what to do next, but his thoughts and feelings are back-burnered for the ritualistic violence that takes place as a result of the segue to the storyline dealing with the fighting factions. The film has a tragic ending that makes the audience wonder if this hippie commune lifestyle is worth it. Let’s be honest, however; despite any ambitions the script purports to offer, this is a biker film, one that rises above most others in strict entertainment value. Bill McKinney is always a joy to watch and here he’s a dude having a tough time keeping his libido in check. Unfortunately for Ned Beatty, Mr. McKinney would have the same problem with him in John Boorman’s Deliverance two years later! Yikes! Another biker looks like the winner of the Bob Ross Look-a-like Contest. Some of the film takes place at night and it looks like it was shot day-for-night, which is not unusual for a film on a low budget and fast-paced shooting schedule.

BY MIKE BLOOMFIELD 

A YouTube documentary film about one of Britain’s foremost movie poster artists Tom Chantrell (1916-2001) has just been released. The 51-minute film, "Tom Chantrell- The Man Behind the 'Star Wars' Poster (!977)", details Chantrell’s life and career spanning seven decades. There are interviews with family, friends and poster experts and Chantrell’s poster imagery is displayed throughout.

Director Simon Henry came to the project after unexpectedly discovering a photograph of Tom Chantrell holding up the unfinished “Star Wars” (1977) poster. “The image simply blew me away, seeing the amazing poster in its uncompleted form being held up by its creator... I couldn't get the image out of my head and the more I read about Tom's work and its significance within British film history the more I realised that someone had to put this under a spotlight. I decided to contact Tom's family. We've tried to tell Tom's story through the people who knew him best and hope we've done justice for Britain's most important poster artist, Tom Chantrell.” (Editors note: Chantrell was primarily known for his designs of British quad posters which were generally different from the posters used for the North American market.)

Chantrell was a prolific artist with a liking for colorful, dynamic almost photo-realist type painted poster illustrations. However, he was a versatile artist and able to switch styles to caricature, impressionistic, photographic and mixed-media compositions too. He is described as the “consummate” commercial artist in his field, being able both to design and illustrate posters (these functions were often separate in many advertising agencies). Chantrell could also take care of lettering and would frequently proffer his own witty tag-lines too.

In the 1930s Chantrell was employed providing technical drawings and artwork for various commercial publications. WWII then interrupted Chantrell’s career. As a conscientious objector Chantrell refused to bear arms but instead found himself in one of the most dangerous occupations in the entire military service: bomb disposal. Eventually the army recognized Chantrell’s artistic skills and he was re-deployed. After the war Chantrell resumed his career as a commercial artist and it was at this point that he began to specialize in the creation of movie poster artwork.

It is thought that Chantrell produced approximately 700 pieces of finished poster artwork during his career. Working for the Allardyce advertising agency, Chantrell concentrated on films for Warner Bros. and 20th Century Fox. Among his standout compositions were Quad poster designs for “Bus Stop” (1956), (“Cleopatra” (1963), “Bonnie and Clyde” (1967), “Bullitt” (1968) etc. Chantrell also created posters for the popular British “Carry On” franchise (1963-66) and dominated poster production for Hammer (1965-74), relishing the “sex and gore” orientation of the studios.

As the advertising industry became more “corporate” so the strong-minded Chantrell grew increasingly frustrated with what he saw as “interference” in the poster design process and in 1972 he turned freelance. With a young family and worried about where work would come from Chantrell created a handy-sized portfolio of his artwork by cutting up lots of his original paintings. This was a loss to posterity but has increased the value of what has survived.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Once upon a time, there was what is now considered to be a Golden Age of film criticism. Serving in that capacity was a well-regarded career and the standards were generally high. In the pre-internet age, when newspapers and magazines were in their heyday, readers voraciously followed the most influential film critics, whose endorsements of a film could elevate its popularity. Conversely, of course, a negative review might spell death at the boxoffice. Some of the more prominent critics were regarded as snooty and too upper crust to connect with the average reader. The ascension of critics Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel through their highly influential “At the Movies” syndicated TV series changed all of that. They were film scholars, to be sure, but they reviewed movies in a populist manner, often defending films that most critics chose to ignore or denounce. With the advent of the internet, today anyone can proclaim themselves to be a film critic. You just need a blog and- Presto!- you are a film critic. Of course, today’s definition of the profession encompasses the good, the bad and the ugly. Simply having an enthusiasm for movies doesn’t make one prolific in analyzing them.

One of the best of the “old world” film critics was British writer Philip French, who began writing film reviews in the early 1950s and went on to be a long-time contributor to The Times and The Observer. He passed away in 2015, still practicing his profession. French’s family has compiled a book of some of his most relevant and important reviews and published them under the title of “Notes from the Dream House: Selected Film Reviews 1963-2013”. The book, published by Carcanet Press, sets the right tone beginning with the cover, an illustration by Charles Addams of  the "Uncle Fester" character laughing at a movie that has everyone else in the audience sobbing. Like most of the major critics who came of age when French did, he displays an encyclopedic knowledge of the films and talents he passes judgment on. He also falls into the same trap as many of his peers by assuming the reader is well-versed in sometimes obscure names and film titles. However, he never comes across as pretentious and his prose is often wistful and amusing. It is interesting to read his observations about films that became famous or infamous and French also revisits certain movies for re-evaluation many years after their initial release. We find he championed obscure titles such as “Two Land Blacktop” and dared to defend such boxoffice disasters as Michael Cimino’s “Heaven’s Gate” and Hugh Hudson’s “Revolultion” (good for him!). He appreciates Attenborough’s “A Bridge Too Far” while most critics were immune to its many qualities. He devotes a very long review to extolling the merits of the 1999 Bond adventure “The World is Not Enough”. He also doesn’t have any sacred cows: despite being an admirer of Kubrick, he rightly points out that “The Shining” is “a polished, low-key horror picture of a rather conventional kind… we never became involved either intellectually or viscerally with the characters…Our pants flutter occasionally, but the film comes nowhere near scaring them off us.” In a 1982 re-evaluation of Leone’s “Once Upon a Time in the West”, he makes a mea culpa and admits that, upon seeing the film in its initial release in 1969, he did not recognize its greatness. He decried Robert Downey Jr.’s interpretation of Sherlock Holmes as a contemporary action hero and was an early admirer of John Boorman’s “Point Blank”, which some critics simply denounced because of its violent content.

Breezing through the book is a delight. You can randomly drop in anywhere and read the reviews that appeal to you. But it should be noted that French’s observations are worth reading even if they pertain to film titles that don’t particularly interest you. His wry wit and poignant analysis make this book a “must” for retro movie lovers.

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BY TODD GARBARINI

Umberto Lenzi was one of the most prolific Italian genre directors working in Italy, but he is virtually unknown here in the States outside of the circles of the most die-hard of genre fans. In fact, his work is so obscure at times that even adherents to his most extreme horror movies don't even follow the other dramatic work for which he is also known despite his roster of titles on the IMDB. Much of International Cinema is “inspired” by American filmmaking (i.e. outright ripped off from) and following the Oscar-winning success of William Friedkin’s masterful 1971 crime drama The French Connection, with its astounding subway/car chase, Italy dove head-first into the Eurocrime, or poliziotteschi, genre headfirst making a slew of action films where the camera’s point-of-view is inspired by Owen Roizman’s work on the aforementioned real-life-inspired crime film. Filmed in late 1975 in Rome and released in New York in July 1978 under the title of Assault with a Deadly Weapon, The Tough Ones is yet another one of those films that is known by multiple titles too numerous to even list. Upon superficial investigation of the beautiful and colorful poster art for the film, one might assume (as yours truly did) that actor Franco Nero is the star. Rather it’s the late Maurizio Merli who, not surprisingly, began his career because he looked like Mr. Nero when the latter was unavailable for White Fang to the Rescue, the 1974 sequel to both Challenge to White Fang (1974) and White Fang (1973).

Mr. Merli plays Inspector Leonardo Tanzi, a hot-headed, self-appointed crime fighter who makes Gene Hackman’s Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle and Clint Eastwood’s “Dirty” Harry Callahan look timid in comparison as he tears up each scene that he appears in, slapping and kicking bad guys and even suspected bad guys, at the slightest hint of guilt or provocation. He’s fed up with the crime plaguing his jurisdiction, dishing out his own version of justice by breaking up a hidden casino, tackling a pair of purse-snatchers on a motor scooter, and diving into a bank robbery and killing some of the robbers. One of his best bits is when he is flagged down by a man whose girlfriend has been raped by a gang headed up by a rich kid who was released from jail just hours earlier. Taking a clue from the crime scene, he hunts down the spoiled brat and his cronies, smashing the ringleader’s face into a pinball machine before kicking all their asses in a crazy set piece. Anyone who gets in his way of getting to another criminal gets their ass handed to them. This doesn’t bode well for his girlfriend who is nearly sent to her death when criminals drop her car into a car crusher, stopping it just before it crushes it – with her in it! There’s a weird, typical living-on-the-fringe-of-society character named Vincenzo Moretto (played wonderfully by the late Tomas Milian) who seems frail and timid at first, but he proves to be a lunatic and is later told to swallow a bullet (literally) by Tanzi in a strange exchange at Moretto’s sister’s house.

BY TODD GARBARINI

Lieutenant Fred Williams (Jack Hedley) is easily the horror cinema’s most pedestrian, laid back, and disinterested police detective in recent memory. In Lucio Fulci’s infamous slasher outing The New York Ripper (1982), a spate of brutal crimes involving young women being sliced up by a knife-wielding maniac who quacks like a duck (yes, you read that right) lands right smack into Williams’s lap and he couldn’t be more bored by it. Mr. Hedley’s characterization of this by-the-book investigator was no doubt in the script, but his character just meanders through his scenes with such an aloof attitude that it’s amazing no one calls him out on it. The few times Williams does appear to spring to life are when the sex lives of his victims are revealed, which he reacts to with a judgmental shrug and smirk when he’s extricating a motive from the morgue pathologist (Giordano Falzoni) or informing one Dr. Lodge (Cosimo Cinieri, credited here as “Laurence Welles”) that the effects of his open marriage have resulted in the death of his sexually adventurous wife Jane Lodge. This is a hypocritical reaction considering that he himself frequents a prostitute named Kitty (Daniela Doria), a fact not lost on the “quacker” who phones Williams at Kitty’s apartment just to let him know that he has his eye on him! Williams himself is genuinely confounded by this unexpected breach of privacy which gives him some resolve to find the killer with slightly more urgency, but not by much – it also puts Kitty in danger.

The murders in this film are gory, graphic and protracted. Any seasoned slasher fan will easily differentiate between the actual performers and the graphic make-up effects created to look like the female anatomy, be it a decomposed human hand retrieved by a dog at the film’s start, a young victim named Rosie (Cinzia de Ponti) slashed on the Staten Island Ferry, a sex performer named Eva (Zora Kerova) who meets a violent end thanks to a smashed bottle, or the aforementioned Jane (Alexandra Delli Colli) who gets more than she bargained for when her sexual shenanigans go south. It’s obvious to both Williams and his police chief (played by Lucio Fulci!) that the “quacker” is a misogynist. It’s a good thing he isn’t a doctor. A prime suspect is a sex show spectator with two missing fingers, Mickey Scellenda (Renato Rossini, credited here as “Howard Ross”), who meets Jane at an insalubrious 42nd Street theater and later engages in some consensual BDSM with her at a flea bag motel that begins to exceed even her limits. Jane goes from being an aroused spectator to a willing participant. Scellenda then sets his sights on Fay Majors (Almanta Keller), a young woman who foolishly rides the graffiti-riddled subway train alone in the middle of the night, and later attacks her before her physicist boyfriend Peter (Andrew Painter) comes to her rescue.

Williams enlists the help of a psychotherapy professor, Dr. Paul Davis (Paolo Malco of Mr. Fulci’s The House by the Cemetery), who is prepped as the Simon Oakland character in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) and creates a psychological profile of the killer. Barbara Cupisti makes her Italian horror film screen debut and appears briefly as an assistant. She would go on to star as Alicia in Michele Soavi’s phenomenal Stage Fright five years later.

More surprising than the violent murders are the sexually charged scenes that lend a high degree of uneasiness to the whole affair. A live sex shows plays more like a softcore porn interlude, and the film’s arguably most disturbing sequence involves what amounts to Jane being raped in a pool hall by a creepy player (Josh Cruze) egged on by his equally creepy friend (Antoine Pagan). Even Dr. Davis is portrayed as a closet homosexual, purchasing a copy of BlueBoy magazine at a newsstand and hiding it inside a copy of the New York Post (think about that for a minute!). I can only imagine what the audiences in 1982 must have thought about this film. In 2019, it’s distressing to say that far worse is available to see on the Web to eyes just as jaded as Lieutenant Williams’s.

One would think that the duck quacking would have turned this film into a comedy and while there are moments that do elicit laughter, the whole thing is actually played straight, so straight in fact that when the denouement arrives courtesy of the requisite deus ex-machina, the killer is revealed in one of the bleakest endings in giallo history.

Filmed in New York City between August and October in 1981 during an especially seedy time in Times Square’s history, The New York Ripper is one of the most controversial and infamous giallo films of the decade, or perhaps ever. Mr. Fulci’s work has always been uneven to me, lacking the color that featured so prominently in Mario Bava’s work and the highly stylized cinematic look that punctuates the best work of Dario Argento. Anyone who saw this film during its theatrical exhibition on 42nd Street in 1984 probably never would have imagined that the film could look as good as it does in the new 4K-remastered Blu-ray that Blue-Underground has just released, or they were probably too drunk and stoned to even care. If you saw it on the Vidmark VHS release, this new and completely uncut version reveals a film that none of us have seen before. This transfer is reference quality and reveals image nuances previously unseen, on a par with the fine work that Blue-Underground has done previously on William Lustig’s Maniac (1981), another gory slasher, with full 4K restoration. Any previous versions of the film on home video pale in comparison to this new transfer.

The new three-disc Blu-ray contains many new extras, which include:

A very cool lenticular sleeve cover that the Blu-ray case fits into.

Disc One:

A full-length audio commentary by Troy Howarth who once again provides a highly detailed and entertaining overview of the film at hand, making no apologies for being a fan. Extremely insightful and highly knowledgeable, Mr. Howarth points out interesting tidbits along the way and allows the viewer to experience the film in a new light.

The Art of Killing (about 30 minutes in high definition, 2019) – This is an onscreen interview with Dardano Sacchetti, a prolific screenwriter whose is probably best known to the horror film fans as the screenwriter or story originator of The Cat O’Nine Tales (1971), Shock (1977), Zombie (1979), City of the Living Dead (1980), The Beyond (1981), The House by the Cemetery (1981), Demons (1986) and Demons 2 (1988). He speaks at length about working with Mr. Fulci on a script about progeria, a disease that ages the cells and tissues to such an extent that the victim dies by age 18. Anyone remember Ralph Macchio in The Three Wishes of Billy Grier (1984)? He also explains that Italian horror cinema always has a further ending, a double ending, and a final ending. Highly entertaining raconteur.

Three Fingers of Violence (about 15 minutes in high definition, 2019) is an onscreen interview with actor Howard Ross who plays Mickey Scendella in the film. He recounts meeting Mr. Fulci at a dinner party and auditioned for the film soon after. He also laughs about being mistaken for Charles Bronson while filming in Times Square. Spoken in Italian with non-removable and legible English subtitles.

The Second Victim (about 13 minutes in high definition, 2019) is an onscreen interview with actress Cinzia de Ponti who plays Rosie. She was discovered after being named “Miss Italia” in a beauty contest. Spoken in Italian with non-removable and legible English subtitles.

The Broken Bottle Murder (about 13 minutes in high definition, 2019) is an onscreen interview with actress Zora Kerova who describes working with Mr. Fulci on this scene, but not knowing that it required sex and nudity until it was time to film. Spoken in Italian with non-removable and legible English subtitles.

“I’m an Actress” (about 9 minutes in high definition, 2009) is an onscreen interview with actress Zora Kerova who describes working with Mr. Fulci on her scene, and also her work with Bruno Mattei and Umberto Lenzi. This is ported over from the Blue Underground single disc Blu-ray release from 2009.

The Beauty Killer (about 23 minutes in high definition, 2019) is an onscreen, English language explanation of giallo films from critic and author Stephen Thrower who explains that these films became more and more violent for one simple reason: they want to push the envelope and show the audience something that they haven’t seen yet in an effort to make more money.

Paint Me Blood Red (about 17 minutes in high definition, 2019) is my favorite extra because it introduces us to one of cinema’s unsung heroes, movie poster artist Enzo Sciotti. This man has created some of the most stunning and gorgeous artwork ever created for horror films. His work for Dario Argento’s Phenomena (1985) beautifully captures the spirit of the film, while his work for Paganini Horror (1989) is the only redeeming thing about that film. Spoken in Italian with non-removable and legible English subtitles.

NYC Locations Then and Now (about 4 minutes in high definition, 2009) compares the filming locations from 1981 to 2009 when the comparisons were made. This is ported over from the Blue Underground single disc Blu-ray release from 2009.

Theatrical Trailer

Poster and Still Gallery – while there are many images presented here, I’m not sure if many of them appeared as lobby cards since they depict graphic sex and violence. Granted, Europe is more liberal than the US, and when I walked through Times Square for the first time in May 1980, I was shocked by the explicit images on display when Friday the 13th was in release.

There is also a beautifully illustrated, 18-page booklet containing an essay, Fulci Quacks Up: The Unrelenting Grimness of “THE NEW YORK RIPPER”, which accompanies the set.

Disc Two:

This consists of a DVD that includes everything that the Blu-ray offers.

Disc Three:

This consists of a 29-track compact disc of the film’s original soundtrack album.

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