BY LEE PFEIFFER

Just in case you thought the good folks at Vinegar Syndrome only release version of vintage porn flicks, it may come as news that they are also providing another valuable social service: remastering long-forgotten grind house "classics".  Case in point: "The Muthers", a 1976 gem that plays out like the ultimate Tarantino fantasy. It's a combination of several genres: Women in Prison ("W.I.P", for the initiated), chop socky, sexploitation and blaxploitation. It doesn't get any better than this if you were weaned on this glorious type of sleaze that played routinely on 42nd Street. Directed by cult "B" movie favorite Cirio Santiago, "The Muthers" is yet another low-budget flick from the era that was filmed in the Philippines. The movie opens with a memorable introduction to the titular characters. They are Kelly (Jeannie Bell) and her equally sexy sidekick Anggie (Rosanne Katon, Playboy's Miss September in 1978), who are female pirates with an all-male crew ("You go, girls!"). We see them aboard their high speed, armed vessel as they raid a tourist boat and grab the booty. (Since these are good pirates, no one gets hurt). We know the pirates go by the name of The Muthers because their vessel is adorned with a big sign that reads "The Muthers", in what must have been the first case of branding for high seas pirates. When they return to their Hole-in-the-Wall-like village, they are informed that Kelly's teenage sister has gone missing. They start trawling the waterfront bars and learn that she has been abducted by a human trafficking ring. Working with a government agent who wants to bring down the head of the ring, a notorious crime kingpin named Monteiro (Tony Carreon), Kelly and Anggie volunteer to be captured. They are brought to Monteiro's jungle prison camp, which is guarded by a virtual army of heavily-armed thugs. Here they find dozens of young women being kept in brutal conditions. They are forced to perform manual labor and are simultaneously being groomed for sale to a procurer of girls for international brothels. Kelly manages to get a fleeting glimpse of her sister before she learns the younger girl has made a desperate attempt to escape into the jungle- a strategy which goes tragically awry. 

While in the camp, Kelly and Anggie meet Marcie (Trina Parks), another beauty who is regarded as a long-time veteran prisoner who knows all the ropes. Marcie introduces them to Serena (Jayne Kennedy), who is the privileged mistress of Monteiro (who also sleeps with his male guards). Anggie resents Serena for selling out in return for her soft lifestyle at the camp and derisively refers to her as a "house nigger". But Marcie informs her that Serena often provides what human compassion she can towards the prisoners. Ultimately, Kelly, Angie and Marcie enlist Serena in an audacious plan for them all to escape. They do so but Monteiro and his goons are in hot pursuit. As the women hide in the jungle, they face death from the elements, starvation and dangerous critters. In the film's best scenario, Marcie is bitten in the chest by a deadly snake. As Serena sucks the blood out, Marcie gets the movie's best line of dialogue: "Just like every other snake I've met-- won't leave my tits alone!" Although Parks, Kennedy and Katon frustrate male viewers  keeping their clothes mostly intact, Bell delivers the goods with two (not one, but two!) gratuitous topless bathlng sequences. She also saunters around the tropical location clad in a long-sleeve turtleneck shirt, the absurdity of which is overshadowed by the fact that she is conspicuously bra-less. The film climaxes with double crosses, a big shootout between the "good" pirates and Monteiro's forces, with machine gun slinging chicks also going hand-to-hand with the villains. (Yes, everybody is kung-fu fighting.) At one point in the movie, Bell gets to swing vine-to-vine a la Tarzan. As low grade action films go, it doesn't get much lower or better than this- and it's all set to a typically funky '70s disco score. 

Jeannie Bell displays why the questionable choice of wearing a long-sleeve turtleneck in the tropics has its good points.

The Vinegar Syndrome release has undergone a 2k restoration from the original 35mm negative, making it yet another one of their titles that probably looks infinitely better today than it did upon its initial release. An appropriately cheesy trailer is also included that doesn't even credit the actresses, though perhaps they consider that to be a positive.

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BY BILL BLICK 

In the late 1970s and early 80s, there was a fear that gripped New York City. After 1977, the year of the Son of Sam murders, the disastrous blackout, and the Bronx literally in flames later, the cityscape and New York aura had drastically changed. The movie Death Wish (1974) directed by Michael Winner, made earlier, had caused quite a stir reflecting the bleak and often paranoid reactions of citizens, and it spawned several other films. Vigilante, produced and directed by exploitation genre virtuoso, William Lustig, and written by Richard Vetere, was perhaps arguably one of the leanest and no-holds-barred of this type of film. Lustig and actor Joe Spinell had teamed up to make the lucrative but extremely graphic and controversial horror/ serial killer film Maniac (1980). Vigilante was Lustig’s follow up. Yet, Vigilante remains to be more aestheticized with a raw prose of the street thanks to Vetere's work, and the grim urban settings serving as a stark landscape, rather than relying on the raw gratuitous gore of Lustig’s prior film.

I caught up with Richard Vetere in July 2018, who was a former professor of screenwriting of mine at Queens College in the late 1990s. I had seen the film on Netflix recently and thought how underrated it was, and I wanted to contact Vetere to find out his insight into writing such a gritty, visceral, and memorable film. Vetere explains that Lustig approached him to write a “Blue Collar Death Wish”. One of the points Vetere makes was how unapologetically politically incorrect the film is. It was on the top 20 highest grossing films of 1983, and it was an example of an innovative indie film, before indie groundbreakers, Miramax, the Shooting Gallery and Tarantino were making waves in the 1990s.

Vigilante can easily be overlooked as an exploitation genre film, but offers the viewer something more unique with the gritty performances especially by Forster, dialogue thanks to Vetere, and cinematography that make it a stand out. I saw the film when I was young and it made an impression. The political view is obviously in --your -face about policing tactics and politicians not doing enough for the public. We see this frustrated view in many of the films of the era. Pre-Giuliani, pre-Disneyfication of New York was grim, but it had almost a distinct street grit-aesthetic for filmmaking, such as in earlier films like The French Connection (William Friedkin, 1971).

Vetere says what makes his film stand out is that it is unapologetic for the action of the heroes in the movie. The ending in which a judge is blown to bits was very controversial. He emphasizes his own frustration at the growing apathy in the city by police and the public alike. He also feels his film is one of the most realistic of the genre in comparison to other films like Death Wish and Fighting Back. He felt Death Wish had an ill-fitting sense of humor and the villains were so over the top that they were not realistic. Vetere maintains that he was going for “reality” untrammeled by Hollywood restriction or by a need for self-justification as he felt Fighting Back had.

Richard Vetere's films that he wrote or co-wrote include The Third Miracle starring Ed Harris and produced by Francis Ford Coppola and directed by Agnieszka Holland released by Sony Picture Classics, The Marriage Fool for CBS TV films starring Walter Matthau and Carol Burnett, How to Go Out on a Date in Queens starring Jason Alexander and the teleplay Hale the Hero! starring Elisabeth Shue for A&E.

1.  What was happening politically at the time this film was made in the early 1980s New York?

In the late 1970s and early ‘80s New York City was a city on a major decline. There was no political will and no ability to get anything done. Unlike today there wasn’t a single neighborhood untouched by graffiti, street crime, vandalism and muggings. Prostitutes walked the streets, cars being broken into -- all met with indifference by a somewhat over-taxed, somewhat corrupt, somewhat bewildered police force. When you got on a subway you were basically taking your life into your own hands since gangs roamed the subway with impunity. Just stepping out of your house could be intimidating to the common citizen. You have to remember back then the police only responded to a crime the concept of attacking crime and preventing it was not put into effect. Also the subway police and the street police were two different departments so if someone committed a crime, they took refuge underground. So I would like to answer your question this way – the average citizen was afraid and felt helpless. This made them apathetic to their own plight. As a young man this outraged me to such a point that I wanted to take action. I was angry at the indifference of the populace and of the authorities. From this anger and frustration came Vigilante.

BY JOE ELLIOTT

This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the release of Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet. The movie was a sensation when it came out in 1968, spurring ticket sales in the millions and becoming one of the top-grossing features of the decade. One reason the film made so much money was due to the number of people who returned for a second or even fifth viewing. It seemed audiences just couldn’t get enough of the story about those two star-crossed adolescent lovers from old Verona. The movie’s memorable music score, composed by Nino Rota, also became a best seller. The album quickly went gold and was later repackaged in a beautiful deluxe box set that included the entire movie soundtrack, along with two handsomely produced companion booklets.

There was something about the film, for all its shortcomings, that many found almost hypnotic. I’ll fess up and admit I was one of these people. I didn’t actually see it until the 1970s when it was still being trotted out in theaters in order to squeeze out extra profits for the studio. I was a teenager at the time and was more into flicks like Billy Jack and the Bond films than stories about people who lived hundreds of years ago and spoke in rhyming couplets. The only Shakespeare I had read was in class, the substance of which I found nearly indigestible. I did know something about the movie since one my English teachers had once played a portion of the soundtrack for us in class. However, apparently not having much else to do that summer evening, I decided to take a stroll down the street to our local movie palace and buy a ticket.

The first thing I noticed about the film was how rich in color it was. From the very beginning, following the smoky prologue spoken by Laurence Olivier, everything is drenched in bright primary colors. Things got off to a rousing start with the scene of the bloody brawl in the Verona marketplace between those two wild and crazy families, the Montagues and the Capulets. (I hadn’t realized until then that it was possible to be a real badass and still wear red and yellow striped tights with pointy soft leather shoes.) Soon the cops arrive (the prince and his soldiers) to break up the fracas and issue a stern warning to all those who would disturb the civil peace in the future. Immediately following this we get our first look at Romeo (Leonard Whiting), a handsome love-sick youth with a shaggy haircut. He talks dreamily of some girl he’s got a crush on, but then comes to his senses at seeing one of the wounded being carried away. Meanwhile, back at the Capulet palace, Juliet’s father (Paul Hardwick) is coyly negotiating the marriage of his daughter to a young man named Count Paris (Roberto Bisacco). The first time we see Juliet (Olivia Hussey) she’s running through the house like a kid at play.

All this is interspersed between scenes of Juliet and her bawdy, fun-loving nurse (Pat Heywood) talking to the girl’s mother Lady Capulet (Natasha Parry) about marriage and things, immediately followed by a night scene of Romeo and his friends on a soliquious pub crawl through the deserted streets of Verona. Later that same evening Romeo and his mates crash the Capulet masquerade ball. The ball scene is among the highlights of the film. It is here Zeffirelli really shows his stuff, combining visual pageantry with an almost obsessive attention to detail. Everything about this sequence is highly choreographed, from the beautifully composed dance scenes (“the moresca!”) right down to the fastidious arrangement of the candles and platters of fruit (Zeffirelli had studied art and architecture in his student days). Absolutely nothing is left to chance. In the hands of a less gifted visual director, and Zeffirelli was nothing if he wasn’t visual, all of this might have come off as too showy and distracting. However, here the effect is just the opposite. The viewer almost feels as if he or she is present in the scene, seductively pulled in as we are by the sensuous whirl of warm colors, voices and melodious music. All of it lovingly captured by the gifted eye of cinematographer Pasqualino De Santi who was awarded an Oscar for his efforts on the project. Clearly, the ocular accoutrements of this particular production are as essential to its success as the words of Shakespeare himself.

BY FRED BLOSSER

Kino Lorber has released Mario Bava’s “Roy Colt and Winchester Jack” (1970) in a handsome, restored Blu-ray edition as part of its extensive “Mario Bava Collection.” The disc will please devotees of the late Italian director, whose wide range of genre work is evident in this and the fifteen other Blu-rays that Kino Lorber has released in its series, from the celebrated Gothic trappings of “Black Sunday” (1960) to the Bond-era burlesque of “Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs” (1966). Bava is revered by his enthusiasts as one of the pre-eminent directors of horror and giallo in the 1960s Italian cinema, but like other workaday filmmakers in the busy European studios of the time, he made pretty much every kind of picture there was to make, riding successive surges of popularity for horror, sword-and-toga epics, westerns, thrillers, and sex comedies. “Roy Colt and Winchester Jack” was the third of Bava’s three Italian Westerns -- a genre that paid the bills, but one that Bava wasn’t especially fond of, as Tim Lucas notes in his audio commentary for the Blu-ray. Of Bava’s approach to “Roy Colt,” Lucas relates: “On the first day of shooting, when he learned that no one was particularly enamored of the script, Bava threw his copy into the nearest mud puddle and said, ‘Screw it, let’s have fun instead’.”

In the film, Roy (Brett Halsey) and Jack (Charles Southwood) are leaders of an outlaw gang. The two partners split up when Roy decides to try his fortune on the right side of the law. Going straight, he pins on a sheriff’s badge and agrees to retrieve a cache of buried gold for Samuel (Giorgio Gargiullo), a devious banker. In the meantime, Jack continues to rob stages and saves a pretty Indian woman, Manila (Marilu Tolo), from bounty hunters after she kills her abusive husband. Manila encourages Jack’s romantic advances but shrewdly charges for her favors. Another outlaw, the Reverend (Teodoro Corra), follows the trail of Samuel’s gold, and the storyline eventually settles into a familiar Spaghetti Western pattern. The three rivals -- Roy, Jack, and the Reverend, with Manila as a fourth wild card -- alternately help and double-cross each other to reach the promised riches first.

Lucas‘ commentary suggests that “Roy Colt and Winchester Jack” began as a straightforward action script by Mario di Nardo, and then turned into a comedy when Bava suggested that he and the actors “have fun instead.” Bava’s decision to send up his material may have been partially influenced by the success of 1969’s “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” but it also coincided with a fundamental change in the genre itself. With the success of another 1970 Italian Western, Enzo Barboni’s “Trinity Is My Name,” the genre began to skew from violent, sometimes operatic stories of revenge and betrayal to lowbrow farces that were geared (it’s said) to the tastes of working-class audiences in the poorer sections of Italian cities and towns. The staple elements of these Spaghetti lampoons included slapstick brawls, rather cruel visual jokes ridiculing physical and mental infirmities, childish sexual innuendo, and infantile delight in gastric embarrassments. Dubbed prints of Barboni’s movie, its sequel, “Trinity Is Still My Name,” and other comedy Spaghettis traveled overseas to drive-ins and small-town theaters in the U.S., arguably preparing the way for Mel Brooks‘ wildly popular, fart-laden Western parody, “Blazing Saddles,” in 1974. “Roy Colt and Winchester Jack” incorporates the usual characteristics of the comedy Spaghettis, notably in a rudely gratuitous scene built around a gunslinger’s extreme facial and verbal tics. More sophisticated audiences are likely to squirm, but at that, thanks to Bava’s sure visual sense and a capable cast, his film is easier to bear than most Spaghetti farces. Pictures like “It Can Be Done, Amigo” (1972), “Life Is Tough, Eh Providence” (1972), “The Crazy Bunch” (1974), and “Shoot First, Ask Questions Later” (1975) are guaranteed to try the souls of all but the most dedicated genre fans.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray edition of “Roy Colt and Winchester Jack” features a superlative 2K restoration from the original 35mm negative. Other extras include the original Italian voice track with English subtitles, a partial English track, and the aforementioned commentary by Tim Lucas with a wealth of information about the film, Bava, and Italian cinema in general.

BY TODD GARBARINI

When a film is as uninspired and as amateurishly made as Lance Lindsay’s Star Crystal (1986) is and ends with the words “Filmed entirely in SPACE” following the end credits, you know that you’re going to wish that you had those 93 minutes of your life back. Unfortunately, science has not gotten us to the point where that is possible just yet. Battle Beyond the Stars (1980) was the first low-budget Star Wars rip-off that I saw theatrically and I was astonished at how unexciting it was. However, it did give us James Cameron, Bill Paxton, and James Horner so it wasn’t all bad. Crystal, also a product of Roger Corman’s low-budget production company, goes much further than Battle did in terms of “borrowing” from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Dark Star (1974), The Empire Strikes Back (1980), Alien (1979), E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (1982), The Thing (1982), Xtro (1983), and Lifeforce (1985). Released on VHS in April 1986, Crystal outright steals from these classic films. Crystal lives up to none of the exceptional movie artwork that was used to promote it, which is a shame as the poster is probably the best thing about it (though it hawks the action as taking place in 2035, not 2032 – is there really a difference?), although it does have a fairly decent score by Doug Katsaros.

In the future, remember this is 2032 and not 2035!, two men on Mars extricate a rock from the planet’s surface and, brilliantly, bring it on board the spacecraft. To think that these guys never saw Ridley Scott’s Alien is a little too much to believe. They have it analyzed by a scientist who determines that it’s…a…rock. Yes, it’s a rock that leaks a mysterious white goo (no, I’m not going there…) which a crew member sticks nearly their entire hand into out of curiosity. Apparently, they didn’t see Larry Cohen’s The Stuff (1985) either. It then begins to turn into a pitiful-looking alien. The rock turns into some sort of crystal, and looks not unlike the titular Dark Crystal from that superior film. These events cause the crew to die suddenly. Too bad it didn’t have the same effect on the viewer. All the computers and onboard spaceship equipment look like they were made by Radio Shack. The action (that’s being kind) then flashes forward two months later when Colonel William Hamilton is assigned to find out why the crew died. Maybe they watched the dailies and committed suicide? An attractive blonde flirts with him in typical 80’s fashion. Everyone on the ship has big 80’s hair, a true anachronism in 2032. Onboard the ship (in reality a poorly-disguised shopping mall) is Roger Campbell (C. Juston Campbell) and his right hand man who cracks unfunny jokes like “I’d rather eat my shoe” when referring to the ship’s food. The ship begins shaking when the cinematographer starts shaking it back and forth and crew members run around frivolously. The shopping mall’s escalators are a hilarious prop.

I could go on and on about this film, but I don’t want to ruin the special awfulness of it for the viewer. I will say that the ending is particularly silly and comes out of left field that features an anthropomorphized blob that breathes deeply. The plot is picked out of many sci-fi films and the director does what he can with the ludicrous material. It makes you wonder, however, if the movie was originally written to be tongue-in-cheek or meant to be serious. Coca-Cola appears in a product-placement moment, and the women on the ship are dressed in outfits that make one half expect them all to break into calisthenics. It’s always nice to have a blonde running around screaming, “We’re all gonna die!!” at the first sight of outer space trouble. The gratuitous sex that was a mainstay of such 80’s fare is completely missing from Star Crystal and it makes one wonder who was the intended audience. Exactly ten minutes into the film, a shot from within the mothership reveals a replica of the Millennium Falcon flanking each side of the entrance. Really? Lucasfilm signed off on this? May the Farce Be With You.

If there is anything this film needs, it’s the Mystery Science Theater 3000 treatment. There is even the dreaded End Credits Song. Why do people think that we want a song at the end of movies like this?

If you’re a fan of this film (no judgment; to each his own), you’ll be happy to know that Kino Lorber has provided a top-notch transfer of the film on Blu-ray. This is the one to get!

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BY TIM GREAVES

Titling a film is no trivial matter, especially from a marketing perspective. As history has proven, there have been numerous films made which have little more to offer than a cracking title. A really sharp one can help sell the poorest product, conversely a stellar piece of movie-making can be undermined by something uninspired. When you're trying to make your movie stand out in a marketplace awash with alternatives, an attention-grabbing title is a crucial consideration and you'll probably be aiming for something that harbours intrigue, allure, and is capable of fostering curiosity and anticipation. When it was first unleashed theatrically in 1985, Howling II: Stirba – Werewolf Bitch was certainly an attention-grabber. Whether the film itself turned out to be good, bad or indifferent, as enticing titles go the suffix Stirba – Werewolf Bitch sure did the job, sending out a premium come and see me you know you want to invitation with the promise of a no-nonsense serving of lycanthropic flesh-munching and raunchy bodice-ripping, elements on which it most certainly delivered. So, given that said title was suitably efficacious, one has to wonder why someone later thought it was a good idea to alter it to Your Sister is a Werewolf, a moniker conveying more than a whiff of lightweight teen comedy – perhaps something akin to the same year's Michael J Fox headliner Teen Wolf – as opposed to that of spicy horror movie. C'est la vie.

Following the funeral of his sister Karen, Ben White (Reb Brown) is approached by occult scholar Steffan Crosscoe (Christopher Lee), who informs him that his sibling was a werewolf and submitted herself willingly to death. Dismissing these claims as balderdash, White's scepticism is quashed when he witnesses a werewolf attack first hand. Crosscoe subsequently tells White that the 10th Millennium of lycanthrope queen Stirba (Sybil Danning) is imminent and on that night, beneath the glow of a full moon, all werewolves will reveal themselves. To avert this catastrophe Stirba must die. White and journalist Jenny Templeton (Annie McEnroe) set off with Crosscoe to Transylvania to seek out the location of Stirba's coven and destroy her. However, Crosscoe is withholding a personal reason for wanting the werewolf queen dead.

Any sequel to Joe Dante's 1981 epic The Howling was going to be facing an uphill struggle in terms of emulating its verve and director Philippe Mora's Howling II: Your Sister is a Werewolf certainly lives up to expectation on that account. Which isn't to imply for one moment that it isn't entertaining; there's a lot of fun to be had here, even if much of it is of the so-bad-it's-good variety. The draw here for many viewers will be the significant participation of Christopher Lee. For such an erudite man, Lee made some curious film choices throughout his long and varied career; one supposes that in such a competitive profession – and one burdened by rife unemployment – regardless of how demeaning it might be work was work. Howling II wasn't among Lee’s more questionable judgment calls but neither is it up there among the myriad of cherries populating his CV. Regardless, consummate professional that he was, he never gave less than 100% and with Howling II he brings a degree of gravitas and worth to a film whose biggest crime is not so much being bad as being rather unremarkable. Given what Lee brings to the show, it's a shame that co-stars Reb Brown and Annie McEnroe prove so unengaging. It would be easy to blame the slightly hackneyed dialogue – the script was a collaborative effort between Gary Brandner (who also authored a number of “Howling” novels) and Robert Sarno – but when you consider that Lee managed to work his lines into something halfway decent that's not really a valid excuse. The odd thing is that both Brown and McEnroe are competent enough performers, as can be witnessed in some of their other films, so quite why they’re so ineffectual here is frankly baffling. Regardless, any shortcomings are compensated for by fine turns from the striking Sybil Danning in the titular Stirba/sister role, Judd Omen as her swarthy aide Vlad and a sizzling Marsha A Hunt (who's hotter than a jalapeño both in and out of her clothing). Brief but noteworthy input too from Jimmy Nail and Ferdy Mayne, although the latter's transformation into beast of the night is memorable for the wrong reason, his freaky but unthreatening make-up and the fact he's wearing a flat cap combining to provoke inadvertent chuckles.

By Lee Pfeiffer

Released in 1966, producer Ivan Tors' Around the World Under the Sea seemed at first blush like an exercise in stunt casting: cobble together some contemporary TV favorites into a feature film and have MGM and Tors divy up the profits. However, that perception would be entirely wrong. While the film did boast some popular TV stars in leading roles, the film itself is an intelligent adventure flick, well-acted and very competently directed by old hand Andrew Marton. The film stars Lloyd Bridges (only a few years out of Sea Hunt), Brian Kelly (star of Flipper), Daktari lead Marshall Thompson and Man From U.N.C.L.E. David McCallum. Veteran supporting actors Keenan Wynn and Gary Merrill are also prominently featured and Shirley Eaton, riding her fame from Goldfinger, has the only female role in this macho male story line.

The plot finds a team of leading scientists who come together to install earthquake warning sensors on seabeds around the world. The risky mission is undertaken in the Hydronaught, a nuclear-powered state of the art submarine/science lab capable of operating at the ocean's greatest depths. The physical dangers are only part of the frustrations the team has to cope with. The presence of Eaton, as a drop-dead gorgeous scientist on board the confined all-male environment leads to inevitable jealousies and sexual tensions. (Although Tors specialized in family entertainment, even he couldn't resist a most welcome, completely gratuitous sequence in which Eaton swims around underwater in a bikini.) Unlike many films aimed at kids, Around the World Under the Sea boasts a highly intelligent screenplay that has much appeal to older audiences. The heroes are refreshingly human: they bicker, they panic and they make costly mistakes in judgment. Bridges is the stalwart, no-nonsense leader of the group, Kelly is his ill-tempered second-in-command who tries unsuccessfully to resist Eaton's charms, Wynn is his trademark crusty-but-lovable eccentric character. McCallum's Phil Volker is the most nuanced of the characters. A brilliant scientist, he can only be persuaded to join the life-saving mission by making demands based on his own personal profit. He also allows a brief flirtation with Eaton to preoccupy him to the point of making an error that could have fatal consequences for all aboard. Each of the actors gets a chance to shine with the exception of Thompson, whose role is underwritten. The scene-stealers are McCallum and Wynn, who engage in some amusing one-upmanship in the course of playing a protracted chess game. However, one is also impressed by Kelly's screen presence. He could have had a successful career as a leading man were it not for injuries he sustained in a near-fatal motorcycle accident. (Partially paralyzed, Kelly went on to serve as producer on a number of successful film including Blade Runner.)

The film benefits from some wonderful underwater photography shot in the Bahamas, Florida and the Great Barrier Reef - all the result of a collaborative effort between the three top underwater filmmakers of the period: Jordan Klein, Ricou Browning and Lamar Boren. Although the special effects were modestly achieved, they hold up quite well today. Marton wrings some legitimate suspense out of several crisis situations including an encounter with a giant eel and a Krakatoa-like earthquake that almost spells doom for our heroes. How they escape is cleverly and convincingly played out. The movie also has a lush score by Harry Sukman (we'll leave it to you to pronounce his last name.)

Warner Archive's widescreen, region-free DVD looks very good indeed and boasts a couple of nice extras: an original production featurette and an original trailer (with Spanish sub-titles!). The company has wisely retained the magnificent poster art for the DVD sleeve.

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By Mark Cerulli

Cinema Retro readers no doubt remember Michael Crichton’s classic sci-fi thriller Westworld. Who can forget the chilling spectacle of Yul Brynner – sans face – stalking a hapless Richard Benjamin? When I heard HBO was “rebooting” Westworld, I was skeptical. The word “Why?” kept coming to mind. The original was so good, why go there?

I’m happy to say I was dead wrong. By expanding Michael Crichton’s original vision, the producers were able to open up new storylines and vastly enhance the earlier concept. While the 1973 film was epic, it was limited by the visual effects available at the time. Now every modern tool in the VFX toolbox can be used and the results are intoxicating, drawing the viewer into Westworld’s latex embrace.

The overall setup is still the same – a high-end resort modeled after the Old West where guests can indulge in every fantasy and no matter how much mayhem they cause, they can’t ever get hurt. So far… Overseen by Executive Producer J.J. Abrams (sharing those duties with Jerry Weintraub, Jonathan Nolan, Lisa Joy and Brian Burk), the series’ attention to detail is meticulous. The show’s use of Monument Valley’s stunning vistas (put to such good use by John Ford many decades ago) really gives it a scope well beyond typical cable. The town of “Sweetwater”, the hub of the action, has an authentic look and feel as good as anything seen on Deadwood and the gunfights – of which there are many – would do Clint Eastwood proud.

Jonathan Nolan (who also directed the pilot) and Lisa Joy’s writing is crisp, seamlessly blending layer upon layer of narrative. HBO’s casting is flawless: Anthony Hopkins as the resort’s Creator Director is quietly menacing as he rewrites the resort’s “storyline” for mysterious reasons. Instead of Yul Brynner, Ed Harris is the relentless gunslinger in black. Not a robot, but a frequent guest who is on a quest to discover all the resort’s hidden secrets, whether management wants him to or not. To say he stays “in character” would be an understatement. When another guest begins to gush about how his (real life) foundation saved his sister’s life, Harris threatens to slit his throat, snarling, “I’m on vacation!” Thandie Newton is conniving yet vulnerable as the local brothel owner who begins to have doubts as to who or what she is… and special note has to be made of Evan Rachel Wood, a stunning actress who made her name in HBO’s Mildred Pierce and True Blood and in a string of indie films. Here she plays an innocent farm girl “host” (artificial human), available to be ravaged or romanced, depending on the guest. Gradually she realizes she’s part of something much bigger and her AI awakening is a major story arc. Louis Herthum, playing her homespun rancher dad, is nothing short of terrific – alternating from folksy charm to an eerie mechanical persona as he’s examined by Hopkins and his head programmer, played by a brooding Jeffrey Wright (Casino Royale). Rounding out the regulars is the great looking James Mardsen as a stoic young gunslinger.

Early in production, a casting notice asking extras to be prepared to perform nude went viral, causing an uproar. There IS nudity in Westworld, but it’s fleeting and in each instance, totally germane to the story. Not a gratuitous shower scene in sight.

Currently HBO has plans for 10 episodes of Westworld, but hopefully that’s just the beginning. With a reimagining like this, there is plenty more to explore. And then maybe they’ll visit Romanworld or Medievalworld…

Westworld premieres Sunday, October 2 on HBO.

By Rod Barnett

I have to be honest and admit that my entry point for the Women In Prison film genre was at the sleazy end of the spectrum. I caught the grubby little Linda Blair movie Chained Heat (1983) on cable in my long ago youth and was suitably appalled – appalled enough to watch it in stunned horror at least three more times. So as I grew older and saw more of these types of movies my idea of what a WIP film would or could be became solidified around the 1970s and 80s version of the genre. I'm sure you'll forgive me if I thought that they were little more than delivery mechanisms for visions of various forms of lesbian sexual activity, shower room violence, petty torture acts and other harsh bits of business. Yeah, yeah- the occasional film might make noises about reforming the horrible conditions on display but mostly the filmmakers were just wallowing in gratuitous exploitative excess in the name of making a buck. Not that there is anything wrong with that, in my opinion. But imagine my surprise when I first encountered older WIP moves that couldn't fall back on showing a shower roomful of naked, large-breasted ladies. What would be the draw? Wouldn't the lack of such graphic elements cripple the film? What the hell is this? A film about women locked up in a prison that actually has a good script? How did this happen?

Caged! (1950) tells the sad story of 19 year old Marie Allen (Eleanor Parker). She has been sentenced to a stretch in prison because of a bungled armed robbery committed by her husband who was killed during the act. She insists that she had nothing to do with crime but she was convicted as an accessory nevertheless. To make matters for her worse, her prison entrance physical determines that she is two months pregnant meaning she will give birth while incarcerated. Marie has trouble adjusting to the harsh world of the women's prison and struggles to find people she can trust. She meets professional shoplifter Kitty Stark (Betty Garde) who says once Marie gets out, Kitty will get her a job in her line of work. Kitty recruits for organized crime on the outside and promises the young girl an easy life if she learns this criminal trade. Marie does not want to get involved in crime, but Kitty explains the realities of prison life clearly and events prove the 'booster' right. It is explained to her that she can be paroled after nine months, but over time Marie sees prisoner after prisoner being granted parole but then not released from jail because no job has been arranged by their parole officers. After one such prisoner kills herself the reality of her situation begins to become apparent. Adding to her despair is the sadistic matron Evelyn Harper (Hope Emerson) who decides to single Marie out for attention when she refuses to play along with her money making schemes. By the time Marie gives birth to a healthy baby and is forced by the state to grant full custody to her mother she has a small bit of hope that she will be granted a parole to be with her child. But when her mother gives the baby up for adoption against Marie's will she snaps and makes a feeble try at escape.

Unlike many films of the genre, the prison in Caged has an authority figure that is actually sympathetic to the plight of the ladies under her care. The great Agnes Moorhead plays Ruth Benton, the reformist prison superintendent trying to get evidence against the cruel Harper while simultaneously attempting to help the prisoners find a pathway out of their dead end lives. Benton is as lenient with Marie as she can be but soon she has to punish her when her actions become less justifiable and more like her more hardened cellmates. When the now toughened Marie emerges from a moth in solitary she finally takes violent action against Harper and shows that she has given up hope of following the straight a narrow path to parole. She's going to get out of prison no matter what she has to do once she is on the outside.

Although I might have expected the reformist slant taken by this film, I wasn't expecting a 1950 movie to be so daring in talking about the nastier aspects of prison life. All the mean spirited subjects that I have come to expect from later entries in the genre are here. Yes, they have to turn away from gratuitously showing the lesbian relationships and vicious violent acts but those events are in the story and not hidden behind the prudish restrictions I expected. This is a classic social commentary film and it firmly places the blame on the prison system for turning Marie into a career criminal but it still manages to show that she chooses the easiest way out of her predicament. I was surprised by the ending of this movie and pleased by its high quality across the board. Caged is a very good film regardless of what you might think of prison stories and this might be the film to introduce new viewers to Women In Prison movies. It gives a sense of the unforgiving nature of the genre while saving the harder stuff for later. 

Caged! is a available through the Warner Archive. The DVD includes the original theatrical trailer.

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BY ROD BARNETT

The horror sub-genre generally known as 'Nature Attacks' blossomed in the 1970s and probably reached perfection with Jaws (1975). Certainly Jaws was not the first movie to put humans at the mercy of a relentless animal antagonist but it's success guaranteed that it would never be the last. Being very well respected and most profitable film of its type there was little doubt that more such movies would be made but while much fun can be had watching the various carbon copies with monsters of all types, it's the nature attacks tales that stretch outside the basic formula of Jaws that are the most interesting. That's not to say that most of these films are good but they are usually fascinating viewing just to see what threat from the animal kingdom can be blown up to epic proportions to frighten the public. I'm sure the producers of The Bees (1978) had Hitchcock's brilliant The Birds in mind as a template but that is a level of competence that this film could never reach.

Somewhere in South America a United Nations science outpost has Dr. Miller (Claudio Brook) running some tests and experiments on African killer bees. Miller is part of a team that is working to figure out a way to increase the production of honey and their plan is to crossbreed African killer bees with less deadly bees to create a new, less aggressive but highly industrious breed. Unfortunately, the lure of top grade honey is too enticing for a local villager who, along with his young son, sneaks into the killer bee compound at night. The pair of would-be thieves disturb the bees, resulting in the son’s death and the father's disfigurement. The nearby villagers blame the death on Dr. Miller so they storm the research compound, releasing the bees and killing Dr. Miller.

Dr. Miller’s wife Sandra (Angel Tompkins) smuggles some of the remaining bees back to America and takes them to Dr. Sigmund Hummel (John Carradine) who also happens to be her uncle. Siggy, as he is called, is the head man of this UN bee project in the States and has been working in the field for years. With the assistance of John Norman (John Saxon) and Sandra, Dr. Hummel tries to continue Dr. Miller’s research. While their work progresses, a group of greedy American businessmen try illegally importing some killer bees of their own into the United States. Their plan goes horribly wrong and their courier is killed in transit, thus releasing his bee stash into North America and off we go into disaster film territory. The bees set up shop in a cave near a public park (!), begin multiplying, building hives and occasionally stinging a person to death.

As the bees become a bigger and more deadly problem threatening to destroy the human race, the UN team begins to make some real progress and actually slow the insects' advance for a while. But at that point the bees evolve into a species smarter and more deadly than anyone could have imagined, leaving Dr. Norman,fighting to find a way to communicate with the creatures to stave off the end of humanity. I don't want to give away the completely mad ending so that the curious can marvel at it's unusual solution to the problem. I'll just say that finale is almost worth getting through the rest of the movie just to witness.

Let's be clear about this now - The Bees is a terrible film. It's inept in a dozen different ways with awful dialog, a ridiculous romance angle, ham-fisted villainy and generally wretched acting. The only two actors that make it out of this mess with their self-respect intact are Saxon and Carradine, even if that venerable actor is saddled with a truly stupid German accent. I love John Carradine and it was great to see him featured so prominently in a film this late in his career. He’s good in his role but I did find myself constantly distracted by the sight of his arthritic, crippled hands. I'm aware of Mr. Carradine's arthritis problems later in life but this was the first time I've seen a director choose not to hide this deformity onscreen. It drew my attention repeatedly and made me wince whenever I saw him holding things or picking up objects. Saxon is the only actor who seems to be rewriting his dialog on the fly, which is to say that his lines sound the least stilted and juvenile throughout. Saxon finds a way to seem naturalistic in his role even when he is being asked to do some pretty dumb things and, as a plus, he gets to have a gratuitous fist fight.

I wish The Bees was a better movie. I really enjoy the nature attacks sub-genre and the idea of swarms of malevolent insects engulfing people automatically gives me the chills, so I'm a fair mark for the story being told here. But this film is so poorly produced and badly written that it is impossible to ever take anything seriously. I can get behind the film's basic message of dialing back the harm we do to the environment before we damage something vital but the entire affair just seems like an under budgeted amateur mess. Most of the time it feels like a 1970s Saturday morning cartoon script that somehow got made into a feature film. On the plus side I do have to give the director credit for some creative use of (a lot) of stock footage to show the military's fight against the invading bee horde. This footage is well integrated and the scenes of the Rose Parade were very well done with a surprise appearance by President Gerald Ford before the bees descend.

Just one more note about the film that I can't ignore. The sort of jazzy score by Richard Gillis is pretty bad and entirely inappropriate to the events it is used under. It feels like music written for another story idea that got grafted onto this film out of necessity. It is almost always out of place and distracting especially after the seventh or eighth time the same few bars of music leap out of the soundtrack to emphasize whatever is happening. The music might work in another movie but here it's overused and its repetitive nature just grates on the viewer's nerves.

Luckily for fans of nature amok movies The Bees has been release on Blu-ray by the fine folks at Vinegar Syndrome. The movie looks and sounds fantastic putting to shame the poor quality transfers from video sources I've seen in the past. In fact, I can't imagine a better looking presentation of the film and one might even say the excellence in evidence here is better than the film deserves. The only special features are the movie's trailer and a very nice ten minute interview with the film’s director Alfredo Zacarias. Zacarias speaks with a lot of passion about The Bees and it's clear he really felt he was doing something important. I certainly don't think this is a good movie but I can appreciate the work the director put into this project and hearing his story from his own lips might have been the best part of this Blu-ray.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Back in the pre-internet era there was an old adage that went "Never pick a fight with somebody who buys ink by the barrel." In other words, think twice about taking on someone who can reach millions of people through the reach of magazines or newspapers.  That might have included screenwriters, as well. Take the case of Walter Bernstein, a prolific television writer in the early days of the medium. Bernstein was one of the high profile victims of Sen. Joseph McCarthy's anti-communist witch hunts which, through the notorious House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC). The committee was ostensibly searching for "Fifth Columnists" who were secretly in league with the Soviet Union and plotting to undermine the American way of life. McCarthy and his cronies convinced a wide swath of the American public that Hollywood was a nest of covert commies and would point to films and TV series that were alleged to be sympathetic with the communist doctrine. Conveniently forgotten was the fact that the U.S. government had implored the major studios to make such films after our enemy, Josef Stalin, was betrayed his ally Adolf Hitler, who launched a massive invasion of the Soviet Union. Immediately Stalin found himself now a crucial member of the Allies. It was a relationship of convenience for both sides. Stalin depended on the war in the West to occupy the majority of Hitler's forces, which would otherwise have been able to to capture his entire nation. For America, Britain and the other allied nations, Stalin and his tremendous military resources managed to keep Hitler bogged down in Soviet territory, sustaining huge losses in what became the Fuhrer's greatest military blunder. Hollywood studios were called upon to start cranking out propaganda films disguised as popular entertainment that would paint Stalin and the Soviets in a benign and heroic manner. The studios cooperated in the spirit of patriotism. Ironically, as soon as Nazi Germany was defeated and Stalin became a villain again, these same studios were chastised in some quarters for being pro-communist- and the "proof" was the very film that the U.S. government had implored the studios to make. McCarthy, a far-right zealot, shot to international fame with his hearings before HUAC at which suspected subversives were compelled to testify at. The deal such individuals were offered was simple: rat out suspected fellow subversives or incur the wrath of the inquisitors. Many people did betray their friends and colleagues but others, such as Walter Bernstein, refused to do so. In return they found themselves blacklisted in the entertainment industry. Legally the government could not demand that such people be denied a living but from a practical standpoint, pressure was put on TV networks and studios so that the top brass "voluntarily" decided not to employ these individuals. In the end, McCarthy's hearings unveiled no real communist threat but he did succeed in ruining the lives of plenty of left-wing artists, writers, directors and academics before being publicly humiliated himself.

By the late 1950s, Bernstein was gainfully employed again and was writing for film and TV productions (his credits include the screenplay for "Fail Safe"). In 1976, Bernstein wrote the screenplay for the devastatingly effective Martin Ritt-directed film "The Front", which explored how blacklisted writers had to endure the humiliation of employing "fronts" (i.e non-writers) to sell scripts to studios and networks, ostensibly as their own work. The real writers were denied decent paychecks and screen credit. Bernstein's long memory of those dark days of disgraceful American political policies extended to another film, "The House on Carroll Street", made in 1988. This production was somewhat less political and concentrated more on the aspect of being a thriller, which is probably what attracted the involvement of Peter Yates, who directed such high profile action films as "Robbery", "Bullitt" and "The Deep". The story centers on Emily (Kelly McGillis), a vivacious young woman living in New York City who is strong-willed and independent. She is also a "career girl", to coin a quaint phrase of the time, and holds a prestigious position as photo editor for Life magazine. However, her leftist views place her in the cross-hairs of HUAC and she is called to testify before the committee. When she refuses to cooperate and "name names" of friends and colleagues who might be communists, she is fired after her employer receives pressure from government agents. To make ends meet she makes a measly salary by reading novels to a rich old woman, Miss Venable (Jessica Tandy). While at Venable's house, she notices some strange goings-on in a house across the garden. A group of German men are having intense discussions and acting in a rather suspicious manner. Emily goes into Nancy Drew mode and eavesdrops on them but can't quite figure out what they are talking about. She later meets a young man who was at the meeting and strikes up a friendship with him. However, his behavior only increases her concerns. He is extremely nervous and informs her that there are some dastardly things being planned but he won't reveal what. Emily begins to secretly follow him and discovers that other people are doing the same. Who are they- and why does she feel increasingly threatened herself? Meanwhile, Salwen (Mandy Patinkin), a hard-nosed big wig on the HUAC committee, is ordering increased pressure on Emily to cooperate. The FBI sends a team of agents to routinely harass her and subject her to humiliating searches of her home. One of the agents, Cochran (Jeff Daniels), takes sympathy on her and the two strike up an awkward friendship that later turns into a love affair that could threaten Cochran's career.

The plot becomes increasingly complex as Cochran begins to assist Emily in finding out what the group of German-speaking men are up to. It appears that they are working in league with Salwen and government agents in a top secret plot to provide ex-Nazi war criminals with false identities in order to allow them to enter the United States and become citizens. It seems that the U.S. is willing to forgive these men for their crimes of genocide because they could provide valuable tools to combat the Soviets in the Cold War. Emily and Cochran are even more horrified to discover that the ex-Nazis are being given the identities of deceased Jewish people. Selwan discovers that Emily is on to the scheme and tries to bribe her to keep secret. When that doesn't work, things heat up and attempts are made on her life. The action-packed finale finds Emily and Cochran in a battle for their lives against Selwan and his men in the midst of bustling Grand Central Station.

"The House on Carroll Street"  was met with apathy by both critics and the public but the film's attributes are more apparent today. It plays out like a Hitchcock thriller with the innocent protagonist swept up into incredible events that are initially beyond their comprehension. Walter Bernstein's screenplay is both intelligent and largely believable and director Peter Yates downplays violence in favor of good old-fashioned suspense. (It's the kind of film in which the heroine decides to place herself in harm's way by walking through an eerie old house in order to investigate suspicious activities.) The film effectively reflects an era in which America went mad and civil rights were sacrificed in the name of national security. McGillis gives a very fine performance and even provides a nude scene that is completely gratuitous but which was still much-appreciated by this viewer. Jeff Daniels is also commendable as a likable, all-American FBI man who finds that his agency is embroiled in some very un-American activities. Patinkin is a villain in the Bond mode: dripping with phony charm and charisma while all the while plotting nefarious fates for his intended victims. The production design is also commendable and convincingly evokes the look and feel of New York in 1951. The most ambitious sequence is the finale set at Grand Central Station. The mind boggles at how Yates pulled off shooting such a complicated action scene in a place that is jam-packed with people 24 hours a day, but the result is highly impressive . It should also be noted that the movie boasts a fine score by Georges Delerue and excellent cinematography by the esteemed Michael Ballaus. The film is not an underrated classic. There are some occasional laps in logic, loose ends and some highly predictable plot developments but for the most part it plays out in fine style and is consistently interesting and entertaining. Recommended.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray has a fine transfer and features the original trailer.  

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By Hank Reineke

Two years after Kino Lorber Studio Classics issued their Blu-Ray of the continental version of Mario Bava’s horror anthology BLACK SABBATH, the boutique label has now chosen to release the film’s U.S. cousin in the same format. Originally released in Italy in August 1963 as “I tre volti della paura" (“The Three Faces of Fear”), BLACK SABBATH was issued in the U.S. the following spring under the American-International banner. The film is often invoked as Bava’s personal favorite among his many directorial efforts. The Eastmancolor-shot film is certainly one of his best; though, truth be told, I personally find the monochrome, atmospheric and gripping witches tale, BLACK SUNDAY (1960), to be his true high-water mark.

There is, of course, an interesting back-story to this U.S. issue. American International infamously tinkered with the original continental cut of the film. These changes have long been a subject of angst and scorn amongst horror film fans and scholars; their main complaint is that A.I.P.’s interference wrecked what was previously a perfectly-wrought and taut trilogy. Their re-sequencing of episodes and their trimming of a few frames of shocking but gratuitous gore, both unwelcome and disparaged, would ultimately be the least of concerns.

The greatest outrage was reserved for the studio’s controversial re-editing of one particular episode, “The Telephone.” In a clumsy effort to protect American audiences from any contemplation of perceived sordid behavior exhibited on-screen in the European version, this segment was re-edited in such manner as to totally remove any suggestion of vengeful lesbian-culpability as a motive in the ensuing terror. It was, without doubt, a calculated business - rather than creative - decision to placate the moralists at home, but it also inarguably subverted the intent and arc of the original storyline.

Having said this, I must admit that I’ve always been fond of this often pilloried A.I.P. cut. Not only was it the version to which I was first introduced - through repetitive telecasts on Saturday night’s Chiller Theater on New York’s WPIX - but this English-language version, far more importantly, features the genuine ominous and sepulchral tones of the great Boris Karloff.

There’s no reason to note here the many small and large differences between Bava’s original Italian and the subsequent A.I.P. version of the film. The changes are all exhaustively and expertly attenuated on the colorful commentary track courtesy of Tim Lucas, editor of the popular cult-film magazine Video Watchdog. Lucas is undeniably well suited for the task: he’s the acknowledged foremost Bava scholar and author of the thousand plus page labor-of-love tome “Mario Bava: All The Colors of the Dark.”

It also must be said that the studio’s meddling paid off: BLACK SABBATH did very well for A.I.P. It opened in neighborhood theaters and drive-ins across the U.S. in late May of 1964, the top-bill of a pairing with another 1963 Bava Italian import, EVIL EYE (aka THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH). It was still doing the circuit in October 1964, now paired with Herschell Gordon Lewis’s splatter-fest BLOOD FEAST (1963). One year following its U.S. release, the film was still being programmed as dependable late night drive-in fare, but now reduced to bottom-bill status to director William Conrad’s exploitation-shocker TWO ON A GUILLOTINE (1965).

Cineastes can – and most certainly have – argued the merits and failings of A.I.P.’s re-sequencing of the trilogy, but the A.I.P. cut inarguably starts things off with a chill. The haunting and nightmarish “A Drop of Water,” possibly the most celebrated segment of the trilogy, had climactically closed the earlier continental version of the film. Reportedly based on a tale by Anton Chekov, this entry concerns the eerie retribution suffered by nursemaid Helen Chester (Jacqueline Soussard) following her theft of an amethyst ring from the corpse of an elderly female patient. The newly departed victim would, only temporarily, lose possession of the precious stone to her scheming health-care aide.

The twist is that the dead woman was a spiritualist, a medium with a life-long interest in the black arts. Having some inkling of her client’s interest in the supernatural, it almost goes without saying the nursemaid should have… well, known better. The grotesque corpse of the withered and deceased sorceress – whose dead eyes refuse to stay closed, no matter how much they’re prompted - should have been warning enough. The décor of the old woman’s home is, as one might expect, as ominous and brooding as her lifeless body that rests in the master bedroom. It’s a sullen and dank residence with heavy draperies, dreary interior hallways, and an assortment of gloomy toy-dolls strewn haphazardly about the house without explanation. The old woman appears to have retained a housekeeper to look after her home, but the general disarray that surrounds her death-bed clearly demonstrates she was not getting the service she’s paid for.

There is a scarcity of dialogue in all three episodes of BLACK SABBATH; there’s just enough verbiage to propel each storyline forward. The moments best remembered throughout are almost entirely visual. Bava was a stylist of the highest-order (he was a painter prior to working as a cinematographer), and this film is an amalgam of assortment of haunting images. The corpse-figure of the late medium is so plainly a mannequin that a more sophisticated modern audience might laugh at the director’s intended deception. The problem is the twisted face of the mannequin-corpse is truly the stuff of which nightmares are made; the molded face with its crazed eyes provides an undeniably creepy and iconic horror-film visage, one not soon forgotten.

As previously mentioned, the most radical and controversial re-edits are found in the second segment of BLACK SABBATH, “The Telephone.” The A.I.P. re-edit of this episode, more giallo than horror, has been almost completely shorn of an important red-herring sub-plot. Through their removal of any suggestion of sexual deviancy, as it is, this capitulation to perceived American moral-sensibilities of the era inarguably alters and dilutes the sense of mystery that Bava had so masterfully conjured in the original cut.

In “The Telephone,” the comely Rosy (Michele Mercier) is terrified by a series of telephone calls that are seemingly coming in from the disconnected voice of a dead lover. The mysterious caller is acutely aware of every movement the terrified woman makes as she moves about her lush apartment - this despite the fact that her windows are shuttered and blinds drawn. It’s not explained with satisfaction why Rosy doesn’t simply call the police right away. There is a passing mention she suspects this voice from beyond the grave is stalking her due to a betrayal: she, apparently, earlier had turned her lover into the authorities, though it’s never specified for what crime. Rosy does eventually alert a seemingly sympathetic friend (Lidia Alfonsi) to the threatening intrusions, but there is an unambiguous suggestion this called-upon-ally was a former lover who may or may not have a vengeful agenda of her own.

Boris Karloff’s moniker was the only one in 1964 that would have carried any marquee import to an American audience. In BLACK SABBATH,” the seventy-six year old actor not only stars but also serves as a macabre master of ceremonies of sorts; he bridges the three disparate episodes with his trademark sinister intonations. He is also, fittingly, the uncontested star of the film’s third and final (and anglicized) title, “The Wurdalak.” This episode is a most gripping and atmospheric entry, an imaginative and mostly original re-working of Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy’s 1839 short-story, “La Famille du Vourdalak.”

As the menacing Gorca, Boris Karloff, the long-reigning king of the horror film, plays – for the very first time in his lengthy and celebrated career, a genuine vampire. Karloff, of course, had played an assortment of ghoulish roles dating back to the silent-era. He was, at any given time, the Frankenstein monster, the Mummy, Fu Manchu, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde… even detective Dick Tracy’s fabled nemesis Gruesome. Throughout a half-century plus of celluloid villainy, the off-screen gentlemanly Karloff was cast almost exclusively as a heavy: he was the maddest of mad scientists, the most ruthless of gangsters, and the most black-hearted of executioners.

He plays to type here as well, though there is an interesting twist to this Eastern European brand of vampirism. Though a vampire by any and all definition of the word, a Wurdalak, we discover, feasts not on the blood of convenient strangers but on the sanguine cells and platelets of his very own loved ones. This uncomfortable level of intimacy between the vampire and his victim is used by Bava to great effect. There is one remarkably creepy moment when, as his distraught son and daughter-in-law look on in understandable dread, the gaunt and swollen-red-eyed Karloff chillingly embraces his barely post-toddler grandson with the most evil of intent.

With apologies to goalie-masked Jason of the Friday the 13^th series, this is the stuff of true horror. Kino offers the film in a 1:85:1 ratio, and includes the aforementioned Tim Lucas commentary track as well as the original theatrical trailer. Fans of Bava and Euro-horror might be best served by sticking with the original continental cut of BLACK SABBATH (available on Kino Classics K1162), but Boris Karloff fans will need this version for their personal collections. It’s essential.

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By Hank Reineke

In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll admit up front that Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir’s character, Remo Williams (aka “The Destroyer”) has played a small, but significant role in my life.

My older sister had been a high-school friend of one of the author’s daughters. Though the passing of time has made the chronology of events a bit hazy, I’m guessing it was through that friendship that I was first introduced to Warren Murphy’s teenage son. It was the son who – upon learning I was a big fan of his father’s pulp-paperback novels – graciously gifted me a personally autographed copy of The Destroyer #3: Chinese Puzzle (1972). This now-tattered paperback proudly sits on my book shelf to this very day. This, I guess, would have been about 1978. I was seventeen years old. I’m fifty-four now and admit I hadn’t much thought about the Destroyer series for several decades.

Novelist and screenwriter Warren Murphy (The Eiger Sanction, Lethal Weapon 2) died this past September at age 81. It was only by chance that I happened to learn of his passing through a small obituary in The New York Times. That night, with the warm nostalgia of the Destroyer novels temporarily in mind, I did an internet search and discovered that the series had spiraled from the dozen or so books of which I was familiar to upward of 150 titles. Murphy apparently bowed out following the publication of “Line of Succession” (Destroyer #73) in 1988. That book was also the last to feature a shared credit with co-creator Richard Sapir who had passed away – too young, at age 50 - the previous year. It would be a tangled mess to figure out exactly who wrote what. Like the songwriting team of Lennon and McCartney, the two had agreed to share credit even when the novels were product of a single writer’s efforts. The majority of the Destroyer books from 1988 to present have largely been written by a series of ghostwriters.

If you weren’t around in the early 1970s, you might not appreciate this golden-age of the paperback super-secret-agent. With their glossy and colorful cover-art depictions of evil super-criminals, fiery explosions, wild gun play, grenades and other scenes of mayhem, this was real-man literature at its finest. Though written in 1963, the first Remo Williams’ novel “Created, the Destroyer” had languished in a cabinet until its belated publication in 1971. Truth be told, the novel might not have seen the light-of-day had it not been for the phenomenal success of the Pinnacle Books series The Executioner.

Don Pendleton’s anti-hero Mack Bolan (the aforementioned Executioner), was an angry Vietnam veteran at war with the Mafia and other unsavory hooligans worldwide. The series was wildly popular. By early 1973 it was estimated that The Executioner series had sold some eight-million copies in the U.S. Soon best-seller lists, railroad and bus station book kiosks and the revolving paperback racks in every drug store across America were crammed with titles featuring a new army of pistol-to-the-cheek anti-heroes. A New York Times article from March of 1974 identified a number of these pretenders to Mack Bolan’s blood-splattered throne; there was The Destroyer, The Butcher, The Death Merchant, The Assassin, The Marksman, The Inquisitor, the Head Hunter,The Avenger, The Revenger, The Penetrator, and The Baroness. Even that exhaustive list somehow missed acknowledging the long-running and popular Nick Carter - Killmaster series and Ernest Tidyman’s John Shaft titles.

Derided as a low-culture phenomenon by literary critics, these assembly-line novels – filled cover to cover with gratuitous sex and wanton violence - were undeniably slim and not always well-written; they were considered the trashy offspring of the time-tested puzzling mystery novel. The critical backlash was inevitable and there were periodic sessions of hair-pulling amongst reviewers on how the publishing industry had arrived at this inglorious moment. Where was blame to be assigned? Some thought the nightly splashed-on-TV-screen violence of the Vietnam-era had made readers malleable to such literary mayhem. Some blamed the often nonsensical episodic action-adventure motifs of Ian Fleming’s James Bond as a primary culprit. Others with a better sense of history traced the disintegration of the traditional mystery novel to Mickey Spillane’s crass and violent, “I, the Jury” (1947).

The preceding remembrance has been my long-winded way to say that I was really looking forward to the Kino Lorber Studio Classics DVD reissue of Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins (1985). Not only do I hold warm memories of the Destroyer series, but as a stone-cold James Bond fan, I was enthused to finally catch this dimly remembered action-flick. Remo Williams was helmed by Guy Hamilton (Goldfinger, Diamonds Are Forever, Live and Let Die and The Man with the Golden Gun) from a script by Christopher Wood (The Spy Who Loved Me and Moonraker). Hamilton’s and Wood’s James Bond has always been the more tongue-in-cheek one, and I expected the filmmakers would adhere to the best traditions of their tried-and-true playbook.

This isn’t a spy-film… or, rather, it is… of sorts. The film tends to be an uneasy amalgam of many genres. Remo Williams is part-super spy, part super-hero, and part martial-arts master. Conversely, the grim sequence that opens the film is staged as a throwback to the gritty, New York City “mean streets” police-dramas of the early 1970s. Following a brutal tangle with a trio of street-thugs on the darkened Brooklyn waterfront, we’re first introduced to our reluctant anti-hero (Fred Ward) when his unconscious body is dispassionately pushed into the East River. The bruised and beaten policeman is – intriguingly- rescued from drowning by a pair of mysterious scuba-divers replete with underwater flashlights. It’s all been a set-up. The divers have apparently been waiting on his violent submersion.

The policeman awakes on a hospital gurney following an indeterminate passage of time, but no longer recognizes his own mirrored reflection. He had been submissively drugged and made to endure a series of non-sanctioned plastic surgeries. The roguish policeman is, not unexpectedly, both confused and angry. Things become clearer when he is introduced to intelligence operatives Conn MacCleary (J.A. Preston) and Harold Smith (Wilfred Brimley). He learns from these two serious men that he has been selected to serve a top-secret organization, CURE, which – he’s reminded - doesn’t actually exist for all intent and purposes.

Technically, he doesn’t exist. Police officer Samuel Edward Makin, his former self, is now dead and buried. He has been reborn as a mystery man with no record of ever having existed. He has been given a new name for the sake of convenience, Remo Williams, and is told that he’s been chosen to act as a sanctioned assassin since “Our cops are corrupt, our judges are bought, and our politicians are for sale. Everywhere you look, slime is on the loose.” MacCleary invokes a heretofore little known “eleventh commandment:” “Thou shall not get away with it.” It must be said that this brand of rough justice, no matter how well-intentioned, sounds a bit fascistic and not very American-like. His first target, it is explained, is George S. Grove (Charles Cioffi), a shady multi-millionaire who is ostensibly developing a weapons system for Ronald Reagan’s “Star Wars” program. CURE has reason to suspect Grove’s patriotism and wants Williams to eliminate the shady government contractor.

This non-Constitutional method of offing corrupt officials and contractors from government posts is entirely intentional. Murphy and Sapir both worked as city-desk editor-reporters for such Jersey City based dailies as the Hudson Dispatch and the Jersey Journal. Murphy also served as the beleaguered press secretary to disgraced Jersey City Mayor Thomas J. Whelan. Whelan was one of the infamous “Hudson County Eight,” an octet of elected official and cronies prosecuted by New Jersey’s Attorney General on extortion and conspiracy charges. Murphy would later tell one interviewer that he only turned to writing-fiction “when everybody I worked for in Jersey City politics went to jail.”

More than a decade following publication of the first Destroyer novel, actor Fred Ward was tapped by filmmakers to play the rogue CURE assassin Remo Williams. Though he bore little resemblance to the handsome slim-face agent featured on the paperback covers of the Destroyer series, Ward’s stoicism, rugged features and twice-broken nose gave him a Charles Bronson-like macho presence. The film’s oddest bit of casting was that of Joel Grey, the esteemed Broadway actor and dancer, as Chiun, a wizened Korean of indeterminate age. The Korean nationalist is a devoted practitioner of the totally fictitious combat discipline of Sinanju, which he touts as the most supreme of all martial-arts forms. Sinanju is something of a religion to Chiun. Which is why, I suppose, no one is terribly surprised to see this inscrutable master literally walk on water near the film’s climax.

It was reported that the fifty-two year-old Grey wasn’t originally interested in the role. I first assumed the actor’s reluctance to play an elderly Korean was simply a matter of aesthetics. Having seen the movie, I now suspect the actor’s initial reluctance was the result of his reading the script. Christopher Wood’s screenplay does little to present Chiun as anything more than a tired cliché: he’s merely one more in a long-line of mysterious and inscrutable wise-men from the East. In testament to his gift as an actor, Grey nearly manages to pull off the charade. Thanks to the amazing work of Academy Award nominated make-up artist Carl Fullerton, Grey is convincingly re-cast in his appearance.

The master and unwitting student first cross paths in a basement apartment. Unaware that Chiun is on the CURE team, the initial meeting between the Sa Bum Nim (“Master Instructor”) and his reluctant protégé soon turns violent. In the course of the played-for-laughs dust-up that follows, we learn that Chiun has achieved such mastery of Sinanju that he has developed his reflexes to the point he can outmaneuver a bullet fired at close range. This skill, of course, will later come in handy.

In the interest of more dramatically documenting Remo’s conversion from slothful beat-cop to athletic super-agent, we’re made to witness the transformation in something resembling real-time. The better part of the movie’s first hour is wasted on only mildly amusing vignettes of Remo’s schooling in Sinanju practices. He’s taught to walk stealthily on the ledges of high-rise buildings, to hang by his fingertips from Coney Island’s famed Wonder Wheel, and to participate in any number of challenges that seem a template for television’s Ninja Warrior obstacle-course series. Sadly, such turgid pacing is what, eventually, dooms the film’s already lagging narrative. There’s very little sense of urgency throughout the movie’s two-hour-long running time, no ticking time-bomb to engender suspense. The tracking down of nefarious industrialist George Groves is reduced to nothing more than a convenient and disposable sub-plot. There’s also a cinematically opportunistic but non-starting romance between Remo and smitten U.S. Army Major Rayner Fleming (Kate Mulgrew) that – like so much in this film - amounts to little in the end.

BY TODD GARBARINI

I have been a fan of the Italian giallo subgenre for 30 years since my initiation into it was precipitated by my first viewing of Creepers (1985), the severely cut version of Dario Argento’s Phenomena, my personal favorite film of his. Subsequent viewings of films by both Mr. Argento and his mentor, Mario Bava, as well as Lucio Fulci, Lamberto Bava, Luigi Cozzi, and Michele Soavi solidified a love for the putrid and the fantastic, and anyone who has seen these movies knows how delightfully entertaining they are: off-kilter camera angles, ludicrous dialogue, and what writer Todd French referred to as “a maddening narrative looseness” are present in these films in a way that they are absent in other genres. There is just nothing like an Italian giallo film. With all of the mock horror films that have been made going back to 1981’s Student Bodies and the later, more contemporary and successful Scary Movie parodies, it was only a matter of time before someone took on the giallo. Quite honestly I am surprised that it took as long as it did.

Rey Ciso (Adam Brooks, who looks a lot like Franco Nero in 1977’s Hitch-Hike and also co-wrote and co-directed the film) is a film editor who actually cuts movies on celluloid. Once a great editor who worked with top-level directors, he suffered a tragic accident which cost him four fingers and has been relegated to cutting movies with wooden substitutes that look like they might be sound-designed by Jack Terry (John Travolta) in Brian De Palma’s Blow Out (1981). In fact, The Editor, which was shot in the summer of 2013, starts out much the same way that Blow Out does, with a movie-within-a-movie concerning a stripper who is accosted on her way home from work (a nod to 1982’s Tenebre when Ania Pieroni is attacked by a vagrant). There is a lot of blood as you can well imagine, and when the action moves to the editor, we see a sad and decrepit man whose young, attractive female assistant has the hots for him for some reason. His wife is a former actress who is beyond her prime and takes out her frustration on him. If all of this sounds depressing, it’s not, as the film is actually quite humorous in that it’s a send-up of giallo films. If you are a fan of these movies to the same extent that I am, you will recognize the obvious tips of the hat (or strokes of the blade) to Mr. Argento’s Inferno (1980) and Mr. Fulci’s New York Ripper (1981). There are also myriad instances of silly dubbing (another staple of giallo), gratuitous nudity, and the sound of the actors and actresses voices coming off as too theatrical and forced. This is all deliberate as a tongue-in-cheek salute to these movies that we love so much.

Now, unfortunately for Rey, someone is killing people off all around him. Naturally he is the prime suspect, and a rookie detective (played by Matthew Kennedy, who looks like Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers, who also co-wrote and co-directed the film – do you see a pattern here?) is after him almost every second just trying to pin the crimes on him. And what would a giallo send-up be without Udo Kier?

There is a conscious effort on the part of the filmmakers to pay homage to the cinematography of this once great, bygone era. The movie-within-the-movie possesses a color palette that would do Luciano Tovoli and Romano Albani proud as it harkens back to 1977’s Suspiria and 1980’s Inferno respectively. The film is beautiful to look at in every respect. Even the poster art is gorgeous! It comes with a reversible cover and I prefer the image on the inside which just screams “the 80’s”.

There are an abundance of extras in this collection, and I appreciate the fact that Shout! Factory has done a DVD/Blu-ray combo on this title. I highly recommend The Editor for those with a love for these films. The extras are:

Making Movies Used to Be Fun (51:03) is a funny and entertaining behind-the-scenes look at the making of The Editor and reveals that most of the people in front of the camera are also some of the people behind the camera.  Conor Sweeney, like the aforementioned Brooks and Kennedy, contributed to the script.

Hook Lab Interview (7:11) sits with Norman Orenstein and Trevor Tuminski in a comedic look at their musical contribution to the film.

Brett Parson Poster Video (5:35) chronicles the agony that the poster artist endured trying to create the film’s poster. Oh, the humanity!

Astron-6 Film Festival Introduction (1:57) is an annoying piece better left unviewed.

A collection of several scenes cut from the film.

Full-length audio commentary with Adam Brooks, Connor Sweeney and Matt Kennedy. I would advise you to watch the film first as this contains many spoilers. It is also a lot of fun to listen to.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Released in 1966, producer Ivan Tors' Around the World Under the Sea seemed at first blush like an exercise in stunt casting: cobble together some contemporary TV favorites into a feature film and have MGM and Tors divvy up the profits. However, that perception would be entirely wrong. While the film did boast some popular TV stars in leading roles, the film itself is an intelligent adventure flick, well acted and very competently directed by old hand Andrew Marton. The film stars Lloyd Bridges (only a few years out of Sea Hunt), Brian Kelly (star of Flipper), Daktari lead Marshall Thompson and Man From U.N.C.L.E. David McCallum. Veteran supporting actors Keenan Wynn and Gary Merrill are also prominently featured and Shirley Eaton, riding her fame from Goldfinger, has the only female role in this macho male story line. 

The plot finds a team of leading scientists who come together to install earthquake warning sensors on seabeds around the world. The risky mission is undertaken in the Hydronaught, a nuclear-powered state of the art submarine/science lab capable of operating at the ocean's greatest depths. The physical dangers are only part of the frustrations the team has to cope with. The presence of Eaton, as a drop-dead gorgeous scientist, on board the confined all-male environment leads to inevitable jealousies and sexual tensions. (Although Tors specialized in family entertainment, even he couldn't resist a most welcome, completely gratuitous sequence in which Eaton swims around underwater in a bikini.) Unlike many films aimed at kids, Around the World Under the Sea boasts a highly intelligent screenplay that has much appeal to older audiences. The heroes are refreshingly human: they bicker, they panic and they make costly mistakes in judgment. Bridges is the stalwart, no-nonsense leader of the group, Kelly is his ill-tempered second-in-command who tries unsuccessfully to resist Eaton's charms, Wynn is his trademark crusty-but-loveable eccentric character. McCallum's Phil Volker is the most nuanced of the characters. A brilliant scientist, he can only be persuaded to join the life-saving mission by making demands based on his own personal profit. He also allows a brief flirtation with Eaton to preoccupy him to the point of making an error that could have fatal consequences for all aboard. Each of the actors gets a chance to shine with the exception of Thompson, whose role is underwritten. The scene stealers are McCallum and Wynn, who engage in some amusing one-upmanship in the course of playing a protracted chess game. However, one is also impressed by Kelly's screen presence. He could have had a successful career as a leading man were it not for injuries he sustained in a near-fatal motorcycle accident. (Partially paralyzed, Kelly went on to serve as producer on a number of successful film including Blade Runner.)

The film benefits from some wonderful underwater photography shot in the Bahamas, Florida and the Great Barrier Reef - all the result of a collaborative effort between the three top underwater filmmakers of the period: Jordan Klein, Ricou Browning and Lamar Boren. Although the special effects were modestly achieved, they hold up quite well today. Marton wrings some legitimate suspense out of several crisis situations including an encounter with a giant eel and a Krakatoa-like earthquake that almost spells doom for our heroes. How they escape is cleverly and convincingly played out. The movie also has a lush score by Harry Sukman (we'll leave it to you to pronounce his last name.)

Warner Archive's widescreen hi def presentation is available for viewing on the Warner Archive streaming service. Click here to access the site. (Subscription required).  

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By Daniel D’Arpe

As a cult favorite, actress Edwige Fenech  has numerous movie moments that are ingrained into the minds of many Italian men who came of age in the 1970’s. Yet there is one particular moment, running topless in slow-motion through a field of flowers, that is probably more memorable then the rest. Many words come to mind when trying to describe this scene: Crude. Low-brow. Gratuitous. All of these are excellent adjectives to use when trying to sum up 1973’s Ubalda, All Naked and Warm. Besides giving audiences an (extremely) intimate look at Ms. Fenech, this was the film that famously (or infamously) proved that the Italian “sexy comedies” could be commercially viable. Although not a for everyone, Ubalda is perfect for fans who wish to delve more deeply into the overlooked cult titles of Italy’s yesteryear.

Olimpio (Pippo Franco) is a hapless knight who has just returned home after a long and brutal war. As can be expected, he wants nothing more than to eat fresh food, have a nice bath, and find comfort in the arms of his beautiful wife Fiamma (Karin Schubert). Before he had left, Olimpio had his wife fitted with a chastity built in order to ensure that she remained faithful. Yet when he returns home, he finds that Fiamma is less then eager to return his affections (even with the chastity belt, she has numerous other suitors lined up). After she steals the key to the belt (a fact which delights her suitors), she informs Olimpio that she has taken a vow of “chastity”, and suggests that her husband focus his energies toward making peace with their neighbor instead of making love. Discouraged, Olimpio accepts his wife’s words and heads over to the home of Master Oderisi (Umberto D’Orsi) in order to make amends. Yet as soon as he sees Oderisi’s new wife, he quickly has other ideas.

As it turns out, Lady Ubalda (Edwige Fenech), is as equally unhappy in her marriage as Fiamma is in hers. Initially, she is only too happy to add Olimpio to her list of secret lovers, but quickly loses interest after his plan to bed her fails. Frustrated at home, both Olimpio and Oderisi eventually agree to swap wives. Yet their plan sets in motion a chain of events that will forever change their lives in a very unexpected way. By the time the film is over, neither man has to worry about the other ever trying to bed their wife again.

Original soundtrack.

Made with a budget of roughly $50,000, the film grossed more than $400,000 at the box office, making it a huge success. (Although people under the age of 18 were not admitted into the theaters, it is interesting to think of all the creative ways that teenagers concocted in their attempts to sneak in). After Ubalda’s stunning success, the Italian sex comedies (known in Italy as “commedia sexy all’italiana”) became a huge sensation. Aside from the medieval setting, these films tended to center around numerous other cliched subjects, such as: nurses, policewomen, and lady medics. Unsurprisingly, many of these films would follow Ubalda’s example and give top billing to Edwige Fenech.

Fenech was, beyond a doubt, the break-out star of the movie. Already known for her roles in the giallos, Ubalda made Fenech an instant sex siren. It is little wonder; gifted with natural beauty, she could light up any screen, regardless of her role. (The fact that the film featured her disrobing probably made the screen shine even brighter for many in attendance). On top of her more obvious attributes, Edwige Fenech also possessed a natural flair for comedy. Throughout Ubalda, her wry humor proves to be the perfect compliment to Franco's over the top antics. Although her glamor and comedy would never grant her universal recognition, Fenech would still make a decent career for herself.

BY TODD GARBARINI

Lamberto Bava's Demons, which was released on Friday, May 30, 1986, is one of the most entertaining and unintentionally hilarious horror films that I have ever experienced. Set upon an unsuspecting public with an ad campaign similar to that of George A. Romero's Dawn of the Dead (1978), the film was distributed without a rating in selected markets and warned that no one under 17 would be admitted. It's interesting to note that although Demons is quite gory, most of the violence is fantastic in nature and is fairly tame when compared to the horror films of the last 10 to 15 years which have tended to be not only brutally violent but also gratuitous to an unnecessary degree. While a good number of audience members have a seemingly insatiable and unquenchable thirst for blood and guts, I prefer horror films that spend more time on character, story, and style. If gore is part of the equation, that's fine, but it doesn't really interest me if it's the only point of the film. In Demons, the gore is there and it's messy, but it's not over the top and is only used to accentuate the action.

Filmed during the summer of 1985 in then-West Berlin, Germany and at a long-gone derelict theater in Italy, Demons is most definitely an ‘80’s film. The hairstyles, the clothing, and the music pulsating on the soundtrack all point to a time that took place 30 years ago. The film poses the question as to what would happen if a group of randomly selected members of the public were given the opportunity to see a sneak preview of an untitled film in a theater and what would happen if they got stuck in that very theater with absolutely no way of getting out. This is a tried-and-true horror film plot, but it's pulled off extraordinarily well and has loads of quotable dialogue. Cheryl (Natasha Hovey) and Kathy (Paola Cozzo) are friends who are presumably in high school or college and decide to blow off class for the sneak preview. They've both been given complimentary tickets by a strange man wearing a metal mask over his face. Along with a group of other people, they make their way into the theater. The audience is comprised of a crazy cast of characters, most notably: Ken (Karl Zinny) and George (Urbano Barberini) who make sure that they sit next to Cheryl and Kathy; Frank and Ruth, a married couple who provide comic relief; and the uproarious Tony (the inimitable Bobby Rhodes), a snazzy pimp with his two whores Carmen (Fabiola Toldeo) and Rosemary (Geretta Giancarlo), who he often yells at. Tony and his ladies provide some of the funniest and most memorable dialogue in the film. While watching the movie within the movie, strange things begin to happen in the audience. A disease-like contagion breaks out and pretty soon the audience is fighting for their lives, attempting to make their way out of the theater as the exits are inexplicably blocked.

As if this motley crew wasn’t enough, a group of outsiders driving around in a car comprised of one woman and three men (two of whom are named Baby Pig and Ripper!) are a crazy lot who manage to make their way inside the theater. An all-out war between the infected audience in the form of demons and those who haven't been affected breaks out and threatens all of human kind.

The release of Demons on DVD and Blu-ray has been a long time coming. Don May’s excellent company, Synapse Films, has done a bang up job of re-furnishing the film and making it look bright and clear, as opposed to the old VHS and American laser disk pressings which were notoriously dark and full of contrast, making it very difficult to interpret the on-screen action. The special edition Blu-ray came out months ago, but for those of you interested in just the film, the DVD movie-only release fits the bill. It sports not only the original American mono audio, but also the much better sounding European stereo mix. The dubbing is entertainingly ludicrous and is done by different loopers on the respective sound tracks. Claudio Simonetti provides one of his best film scores which is interspersed with period music of the era.

The discs special features are as follows:

Anamorphic widescreen transfer from original vault materials in the 1.66:1 aspect ratio, featuring all-new color correction supervised by Synapse Films

Contains both the “International English” stereo language soundtrack, as well as the “U.S. Mono” English alternate dub soundtrack

Original U.S. theatrical trailer

Newly-translated English SDH subtitles provided for both English versions

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By Lee Pfeiffer

The Warner Archive has released director Ken Annakin's madcap comedy "The Biggest Bundle of the Them All" as a burn-to-order DVD. The film's title has multiple meanings. It's a romantic ballad that is crooned over the opening titles by Johnny Mathis and a rock 'n roll version is heard later in the film. It also refers to a kidnap victim as well as the loot a group of thieves hope to gain from an audacious robbery. Finally, there is the sexual twist on the title with a bikini-clad Raquel Welch adorning the advertising posters.

The film is set in Italy and director Annakin makes the most of the lush locations. The film opens with an inept group of amateur crooks gently kidnapping a local crime lord, Cesare Celli (Vittorio De Sica), in the hopes of holding him for an elaborate ransom. Although Celli is refined, cultured and pompous, the leader of the crooks, Harry (Robert Wagner), soon discovers that Celli is past his sell date in terms of his influence in Italian crime circles. In fact, he is penniless and without the slightest influence among the real "dons". In an ironic twist, Celli becomes humiliated by this discovery and tries valiantly to find ways to collect his own ransom and prove that he still has some value to somebody. When that fails, he convinces Harry and his four confederates to enter into a partnership with him to mastermind a grand theft that will make them all rich. It involves an elaborate operation in which they will rob a train and steal a fortune in platinum, which will then be flown out of the country on an old WWII U.S. bomber. In advance of putting the scheme into play, the gang attempts several other minor crimes but they prove to be far too inept to carry even these out successfully. Celli enlists the aid of an influential American, "The Professor" (Edward G. Robinson), an equally sophisticated man who outlines the "foolproof" master robbery scheme. 

The film is delightful on many levels. First, there is the inspired cast with De Sica stealing every scene in a truly inspired and very funny performance. The "gang that couldn't shoot straight" has several genuinely amusing actors including Italian character actor Francesco Mule, Brit Davy Kaye and American Godfrey Cambridge as a fey gangster who seems to have every amusing mannerism of Joe Besser of the Three Stooges. Raquel Welch, then in the early days of her superstardom, holds her own quite well in this "boy's club", playing the gorgeous arm candy of Wagner's Harry and there is an amusing sequence in which she dances in a disco with Edward G. Robinson (!) Director Annakin had the good sense to show plenty of gratuitous footage of Welch jiggling, gyrating and dancing about, often clad in a sexy bikini. Victor Spinetti turns up in a cameo, as does Mickey Knox, the American character actor who made good in Italy be rewriting Italian dialogue for American audiences on classic Westerns for Sergio Leone. 

The film has many very funny vignettes and a whimsical score by Riz Ortolani. Annakin, who was equally adept at directing dramatic action films, never lets the pace flag for a second and the chemistry between his cast members is one of the movie's great pleasures.

The Warner Archive release is from a print that shows some fluctuations in lighting and color but is overall quite acceptable, though unfortunately there are no extras.  

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Having been friends with a number of people in my life who are- or have been- car salesman, one thing becomes clear very quickly: you need to have a thick skin and a good sense of humor in order to survive in this curious profession. Not even bank robbers have seen their reputations degraded as much as car salesman- especially those who specialize in used cars...er, make that "previously owned vehicles", in the parlance of today. As with any profession, generalities can be dangerous. There are undoubtedly many reputable people selling cars but even they will tell you that, behind the scenes, the overriding strategies are to close the deal, no matter what it takes. I've always found it rather ironic that while, on the national level, car companies spend a fortune to present their products in TV ads that have production values that suggest class, style and elegance- while at the local level, car dealers swamp the airwaves with home-made ads that are cheap, cheesy and unintentionally hilarious. The consumer sees an ad during the Super Bowl with a guy who looks like 007 behind the wheel of a spanking new vehicle. Yet his local dealership sells the same product through ads featuring the owner, his mother, his cutesy kids - and in some cases over the top comic scenarios that are something out of the old Second City TV skits. (A local dealer near me is a portly fellow who routinely sells his cars while dressed in tights as a super hero!)

Car dealerships already had shaky reputations by the time director Robert Zemeckis rode a semi over the profession with his 1980 comedy "Used Cars". Twilight Time has released the special 2002 DVD edition as a limited edition (3,000 units) Blu-ray title. The film clearly exploited the new screen freedoms in the realm of tasteless humor that had been introduced a couple of years before by director John Landis with "National Lampoon's Animal House". There are those who consider "Used Cars" to be on par with that comedy classic, while others feel its "everything-but-the-kitchen sink" structure makes it more chaotic than consistently funny. In this writer's opinion, the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Zemeckis and his co-writer Bob Gale had previously written and directed the 1978 film "I Wanna Hold Your Hand", which Steven Spielberg produced. The underrated and largely under-exposed comedy was the antithesis of "Used Cars" in that it was a sweet-natured look at how the arrival of The Beatles in America wreaked havoc on the lives of New York teenagers. Zemeckis and Gale went on to write Spielberg's epic 1979 WWII comedy "1941" before getting the green light to do "Used Cars", which was executive produced by Spielberg and John Milius.

"Used Cars" opens on a cynical shot of Arizona car salesman Rudy Russo (Kurt Russell) tampering with the odometer on a beat-up vehicle in the hopes he can sucker some poor soul into buying it. Rudy is a charismatic young man who is a charming as he is soulless in terms of his moral fiber. He is intent on raising $10,000 so he can afford to be a credible candidate in the forthcoming race for state senator, a job he presumes will enable him to benefit from even greater graft and corruption. Meanwhile, the only person he respects is the owner of the car lot, the elderly Luke Fuchs (Jack Warden), a man in precarious health whose days are clearly numbered. Luke is locked in a constant daily battle with his more affluent brother Roy (also played by Warden) who has a successful car lot directly across the highway from Luke. Despite the fact that Roy's sales far out-gross those of Luke, he is intent on using dirty tricks to gain control over his less fortunate brother's lot so that he can have the biggest dealership in the state. Much of the humor derives from Rudy's intense attempts to use chicanery to outwit Roy's attempts to seize Luke's property. When Luke suddenly expires, Rudy fears that Roy will inherit the car lot. He enlists the assistance of his two slovenly co-workers Jeff (Gerritt Graham) and Jim (Frank McRae) to hatch an audacious plan whereby they bury Luke inside a car on his own lot then try to convince Roy that he has taken a sudden trip to Florida. Roy isn't buying it and uses his affluence to buy off local officials to launch an investigation. Complicating matters is the arrival of Luke's estranged daughter Barbara (Deborah Harmon). Rudy woos and beds her while hiding the fact that her dad is actually dead. As the film unwinds, the story becomes increasingly ludicrous and culminates in a wildly ambitious sequence in which Rudy organizers a fleet of 250 dilapidated vehicles driven by high school students on a race across the Arizona desert as part of a scheme to ensure Barbara inherits her father's car lot.

"Used Cars" boasts some truly amusing performances with Kurt Russell as the glue that holds this disparate cast together. For Russell, who had recently won acclaim for his portrayal of Elvis Presley in a TV movie, the Zemeckis film was pivotal in proving he could also draw audiences to movie theaters. (Heretofore, he was primarily known as the child and teen age star of many Walt Disney films). Every cast member is impressive and adds immeasurably to the fun, but it's Jack Warden's terrific tour de force performance as both brothers that dominates the film. Zemeckis and Gale have some misfires among the machine gun-fire like rapidity of jokes and comic situations, but they score more than they miss their targets. In one amusing sequence, they actually incorporate footage of then President Jimmy Carter in an outlandish manner. The highlight of the film is clearly the junk heap car race across the desert with Rudy and Roy battling each other from side-by-side pick up trucks like a modern version of the "Ben-Hur" chariot race. The sequence is so over-the-top and logistically impressive that you can honestly say that you've never seen anything like it. "Used Cars" has something to offend everyone: vulgar language abounds, there is disrespect for the dead, the American political system is mocked in a cynical manner and there is plenty of gratuitous tits-and-ass. No wonder I feel like watching it again.

The Twilight Time releases keeps the features from the previous special edition DVD including an award-winning 2003 commentary track featuring Zemeckis, Gale and Russell that is delightful throughout. The guys even goof about their own sloppiness in making the film (the opening frames accidentally reveal a soundman's arm and boom mic in a rear view mirror of a car). Clearly, they had as good a time reflecting on the experience as they did in making the film. There is an isolated score by Patrick Williams and an unused score by the estimable Ernest Gold. Additionally, there are radio spots and a TV ad done for a local Arizona car dealership where the movie was shot in which Kurt Russell actually appears (obviously as a favor) on camera with the lot's owner and help's pitch that week's specials on used cars!  A gag reel and some outtakes are surprisingly flat and unfunny. There is also an original trailer from the days in which trailers themselves did not have to be rated. Thus, it's packed with gratuitous nudity even though it was screened to family audiences, which must have caused countless parents to have "that" conversation with their kids before they were ready to do so. There is also a terrific gallery of promotional materials including one ad that features notes from Steven Spielberg in which he complains that they may have produced a distasteful movie, but the ad campaign he is rejecting went too far in pointing this out. The movie was released during the presidential election period of 1980 and one ad notes that Ronald Reagan was not the only actor vying for the nation's top office- and invites audiences to see then incumbent President Jimmy Carter's movie debut. (As mentioned previously, this is a sly reference to newsreel footage seen in the film.) This particular ad also featured the likenesses of both candidates. Try doing that today! 

The Twilight Time release is top notch. The film is not going to be everyone's cup of tea, but it is inspired lunacy that, at times, makes Animal House look as sophisticated as 'Love's Labour's Lost'. 

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RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

In our never-ending quest to provide gratuitous thrills, Cinema Retro presents rare photos of Hollywood hunks and godesses.

"Take that, Sue Lyon!" Ann-Margaret circa 1964 giving her version of the Lolita look.

David Janssen was riding high in '64 as star of TV's The Fugitive. The dour Richard Kimble never got to strut his stuff like this. Lookin' good, but hey Dave, did you borrow those sandals from Liberace?

By Howard Hughes

(The following review pertains to the UK release of the film on Region B format)  

Simple Acts of Annihilation

Dario Argento is the most famous Italian horror director to be associated with the ‘giallo’ style murder mystery films that emerged from Italy during the 1970s and early 1980s. The films were notable for their point-of-view camerawork, their unsettling atmospherics and nerve-jangling, claustrophobic scenes of terror. Argento is one of those directors you either love or hate, and his work has often been accused of being a case of style over content. His detractors cite his implausible plots, illogical loopholes, deafening soundtracks, overacting casts and over reliance on stylistic flourishes that float his slim narratives. His films are just too contrived and stylised, too gimmicky, to succeed. By contrast, Argento’s fans love his implausible plots, illogical loopholes, deafening soundtracks, overacting casts and an over reliance on stylistic flourishes. Argento’s colour cinematography is exquisite, with visual effects achieved via ingenious angles, complicated set-ups, wire-guided cameras, vivid lighting, garish colour schemes and seemingly impossible cinematic arabesques, to present moments of extreme shock and overtly choreographed violence, often unflinchingly in close-up.

Argento virtually invented ‘gialli’ with his impressive directorial debut. The murder mystery ‘The Bird With the Crystal Plumage’ (1970) benefited from Vittorio Storaro’s widescreen images in Cromoscope, Ennio Morricone’s spine-tingling score and a collection of good performances – Tony Musante and Suzy Kendall as the amateur sleuths, Eva Renzi as the gallery murder victim, Mario Adorf as a anchorite painter and Enrico Maria Salerno as the police investigator. Argento continued in a similar vein with ‘The Cat ‘o Nine Tails’ (1971) and ‘Four Flies on Grey Velvet’ (1971) – the three films became known as his ‘Animal Trilogy’ and all were scored by Morricone. Argento’s 1970s psychological thrillers reached their zenith with ‘Deep Red’ (1975), which had David Hemmings’ jazz pianist puzzling his way through a twisted whodunit. Argento then explored the supernatural with the first of his ‘Three Mothers’ trilogy, ‘Suspiria’, released in 1977. This gory cataclysm of witchery and murder remains his biggest success and finest achievement, a tour de gore. Argento has only grasped at this magnificent malfeasance occasionally since, which has left his fans expectant and frustrated in equal measure.

‘Tenebrae’ (1982) is one of Argento’s better post-‘Suspiria’ films and certainly holds its own within the ‘giallo’ canon. Written and directed by Argento, it begins with New York horror fiction writer Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa) arriving in Rome on a promotional tour for his new bestseller, a novel called ‘Tenebrae’ (which is Latin for ‘shadows’ or ‘darkness’). Pretty soon Neal finds himself embroiled in a murder investigation. Captain Germani (Giuliano Gemma) is seeking the killer of serial shoplifter Elsa Manni (Ania Pieroni), who was murdered with a cutthroat razor and is found with pages from Neal’s novel stuffed in her mouth – a modus operandi deployed in the novel itself. Asks bemused Neal of the inspector: ‘If someone is killed with a Smith & Wesson revolver, do you go and interview the president of Smith & Wesson?’ The killings continue. Tilde (Mirella D’Angelo), a journalist who is critical of Neal’s ‘sexist bullshit’ horror stories, and her on-off lover Marion (Mirella Banti) are slain in their apartment block with a razor, again in imitation of Neal’s horror fiction. Tilde’s criticism of Neal’s books parallels the charges occasionally levelled at Argento himself, as beautiful victims die beautiful deaths in the name of Argento’s artful darkness. The prime suspect in the ‘Tenebrae’ case is Cristiano Berti (John Steiner) a daytime TV book reviewer for Channel One, who is also Neal’s superfan. When an axe is planted firmly in Cristiano’s skull, he drops off the ‘wanted’ list. John Saxon played Neal’s literary agent Bulmer, Daria Nicolodi (from ‘Deep Red’) was Neal’s PA Anne, film director Enzo G. Castellari’s brother Enio Girolami appeared briefly as a store detective and Veronica Lario was Neal’s estranged, slightly unbalanced wife Jane McKarrow. Captain Germani tells Neal that he guessed the killer’s identity in the novel by page 30, but he’s not so quick on the real case. In the end, with the police stumped, Neal himself turns detective – as did Musante and Hemmings – to track down the ‘Peter Neal Tribute Act’ who is leaving a trail of corpses littering Rome.

Neal’s book is modestly described by an advert in a Rome bookstore as ‘Il giallo dell’anno, forse del deccennio’ – ‘The giallo of the year, perhaps the decade’ – and the film isn’t bad either. ‘Tenebrae’ gives Argento’s fans exactly what they want. With its gratuitous bloodletting and stylised choreography of murder, this is over-the-top, comic-book Argento, a partial return to ‘realism’ after the phantasms of ‘Suspiria’ and ‘Inferno’. The production’s backroom staff was of an excellent calibre. Horror directors Lamberto Bava and Mario Soavi were the film’s assistant directors, and the murders, involving razor, knife and axe, were staged imaginatively by Giovanni Corridor. ‘Tenebrae’ was photographed by Luciano Tovoli in Technicolor and 1.85:1 screen ratio (rather than Argento’s earlier preferred format of 2.25:1 widescreen). Some of the cinematography – pills resting on a glass tabletop, or water rinsing blood from an open razor blade – is starling in its clarity. In a terrifying sequence, a woman Maria (Lara Wendel) is chased through a park by a guard dog and inadvertently bumbles into the killer’s basement lair. Before Tilde and Marion are murdered, Argento’s camera glides up the outside of their apartment building, peeping through windows, then sweeps up over the slate roof and swoops down to the block’s stair landing, in an intricate camera take that seems inspired by Sergio Leone’s gliding Chapman crane shot at Flagstone City railway station in ‘Once Upon a Time in the West’ (1968), a film Argento worked on with Leone during the treatment stage. Another victim is stabbed in broad daylight in a busy municipal square and ultra-weird flashbacks from the killer’s traumatic past depict the murder of a woman (played by transsexual ‘Eva Robins’/Roberto Coatti) who is wearing a white dress and bright red high heels. The film’s pulsating synthesizer fugues – the pumping adrenalin of the killer or the fearful, fleeing victims – were provided by Claudio Simonetti, Massimo Morante and Fabio Pignatelli, who as members of the band Goblin had such success with the soundtracks for ‘Deep Red’ and ‘Suspiria’. The film’s murders are graphically staged with zeal – the movie ran into trouble on its first release, being prosecuted as a ‘Video Nasty’ in the UK and appearing in the US in truncated form as ‘Unsane’, shorn of 10 minutes. The killings are very gory – seemingly even more so in this pristine blu-ray edition – and the house of horrors bloodbath that climaxes the film offers plenty of the red stuff and some good shocks.

Arrow Film’s new steelbook edition of ‘Tenebrae’ is the most comprehensive and impressive edition yet released. There are various prints of the film out there on DVD. One has the onscreen title as TENEBRAE and the credits and the ‘Tenebrae’ page extracts in English. Arrow’s print (running time: 1:40:53) has the onscreen title TENEBRE and the credits and pages in Italian text. I’ve never been mad about ‘Tenebrae’, but this Blu-ray release has made me re-evaluate the film as one of Argento’s superior gialli – certainly in visual terms. The colours are bold and tremendous, the cinematography in moments as delicious as anything in ‘Suspiria’ or ‘Inferno’. Those red heels have never looked so, erm, red. The feature itself is blu-ray Region B and DVD Region 2, and as well as the English language dub it is available to play with Italian audio and English subtitles. It was shot in English and Franciosa, Saxon, Steiner and Gemma voiced themselves in the English version. A wealth of extras include a collectors’ booklet with writing from Alan Jones and Peter Strickland, and an interview with cinematographer Luciano Tovoli. Copious disk extras include two audio commentaries (one by Alan Jones and Kim Newman, another by Thomas Rostock), interviews with co-star Daria Nicolodi, composer Claudio Simonetti, and author Maitland McDonagh (‘Broken Mirrors/Broken Minds: The Dark Dreams of Dario Argento’). There’s also 16 minutes of Simonetti’s band Goblin performing tracks from ‘Tenebrae’ and ‘Phenomena’ in person at a gig at Glasgow Arches. All in, this is a definitive release of what is a strong contender for Argento’s finest 1980s movie.

The steelbook edition of ‘Tenebrae’ is available now from Arrow Films.

Click here to order: http://www.arrowfilms.co.uk/tenebrae-steelbook/

Howard Hughes is the author of ‘Cinema Italiano: The Complete Guide from Classics to Cult’. 

By Lee Pfeiffer

When I received an unsolicited screener of a new film called The Scarlet Worm from Unearthed Films, I let it languish for weeks. Finally, primarily because it is a Western, I got around to viewing it. It's a gritty, grim affair that ranks among the best independent movies I've seen lately. However, I was curious about the cast members because, as talented as they are, I had not heard of any of them. The reason why became clear when I looked at the "making of..." extras on the Blu-ray. Incredibly, this ambitious movie was put together by a team of virtual strangers who met each other on-line. They conceived of the plot and shot the movie on such a low budget that they had to live in an abandoned house that had been foreclosed by a bank. When viewed from this context, The Scarlet Worm is an even more impressive achievement. The film centers on a immoral hired gun named Print (played by film critic Aaron Stielstra, who also provides the film's atmospheric score). Print fancies himself the protector of everything moral in the small, remote desert community in which he lives. He arbitrarily decides lives and dies, and much of his killing is done for pay under the instructions of local cattle baron, Mr. Paul (Montgomery Ford), who wants Print to assassinate a bordello owner named Kley (Dan van Husen), ostensibly because he forces his whores into undergoing barbaric abortions. However, there is a more personal reason for Paul wanting the "hit" to take place. This sets of a virtual war between Paul and Kley that involves an eclectic number of eccentric gunslingers on both sides. The Scarlet Worm may sound like an old Roger Corman horror flick, but the title actually has an intriguing meaning that becomes clear in the course of the film. The movie, very well-directed by Michael Fredianelli, draws upon imagery from any number of old Western classics ranging from the works of Peckinpah and Leone to Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven. The film doesn't stint on brutality and some of the sequences, particularly involving the crude abortion practices, are hard to stomach. Yet, Fredianelli successfully paints a convincing picture of the hard scrabble life on the American frontier, where lives could be snuffed out on a whim. The production team does wonders in compensating for the low budget and manages to provide some very professional and convincing set designs and costumes. The crew also doubles as actors. The most notable performances are those of professional veteran thespians like Ford and van Husen, who have film credits dating back decades. Both are in top form, finally having been awarded leading roles. Stielstra makes for a mesmerizing and highly complicated villain. Lanky in build with a Wyatt Earp look, Stielstra's Print is an unnerving figure- charming one moment, murderous the next. There are also some fine performances by the women who play the abused hookers, with Rita Rey a particular standout. It should be noted that the actresses don't shy away from appearing fully nude in the movie, but it never comes across as gratuitous. Instead, it presents frontier prostitution as a grimy world where women's lives depended on the whims of the men who routinely used and abused them. The Blu-ray looks first rate and contains a "making of" featurette, as well as various trailer for the film. There are also some trailers for productions members of the cast and crew are involved with. The team also has a slasher film out there, but it looks like a waste of their talents to produce yet another gruesome Texas Chainsaw Massacre-style movie. Instead, their production company, Wild Dogs Films, should set their sites on more lofty goals such as The Scarlet Worm. It's an amazing achievement in indy film making and I look forward to their next endeavor. 

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By Lee Pfeiffer

The 1960 version of Where the Boys Are may look laughably quaint today, but at the time of its release, it was quite a groundbreaker in terms of reflecting the primitive days of women's lib in the cinema. The tale of a group of college girls who head south to Fort Lauderdale for Spring Break resonated with teens across America. The film was primarily squeaky clean, but it did have some scenes and premises that were considered shocking in the day: young girls who dare to suggest that sex can be enjoyed by females prior to marriage. It also addressed the dilemma of a girl "getting in trouble" in the days before abortion was legal and the only choice was a back alley surgical operation or motherhood at an early age. In 1984, flamboyant producer Allan Carr updated the premise with a new version of the film, Where the Boys Are '84. The film has just been released on DVD on the Scorpion label as a special edition. In terms of comparing the two versions, what a difference a two-and-a-half decades can make. The '84 version reflects how far women's views on sex had progressed. This time around, one of the girls advises her friend on how to pack for the trip: "All you need is a diaphragm and a bikini!" Before long, a convertible packed with sex-crazed coeds is cruising toward Florida. Once in the midst of madness in Fort Lauderdale, they find their hotel is a dump, virtual orgies take place in the hallways, one of their group is arrested and their hard-earned savings go to bailing her out, etc, etc. Naturally, love and sex become immediate components of their stint in the sin capital of American's East Coast. They also become tight with a hunky hitchhiker they had picked up along the way (Russell Todd, who bares an almost uncanny resemblance to young John Travolta). At other times, they are wooed by Camden Roxbury (Daniel McDonald), a world-acclaimed concert pianist who disdains their hedonistic lifestyle even as he tries to romance the more conservative of the group, Jenny (Lisa Hartman) The film is only loosely based on the original, but follows the central plot premise of having each of the individual girls learn life lessons from their experiences in Fort Lauderdale. One learns that her long time boyfriend has more qualities than she realized, especially when contrasted with some of the egotistical beach boys and married men who woo her. Another reevaluates her treatment of sex as a recreational tool. Unlike the original, there are few moments that approach real drama. They are quickly discarded in favor of scenes of wild parties and sun-tanned bodies. 

Lorna Luft's memorable turn in the "hot bod" contest.

Where the Boys Are '84 is like cinematic cotton candy in that it's pleasurable but those pleasures evaporate quickly. The movie is clearly designed as a chick flick, though producer Carr obviously realized that there had to be plenty of T&A to keep boyfriends in the audience from dozing off. Consequently, there are many gratuitous shots of college girls in itsy bitsy bikinis jiggling like Jello, as well as a hot bod contest that goes topless in the final moments. Compared to the original film, this version looks like a scene from Caligula. However, over the ensuing years, it might be confused with a Disney flick when held up against today's stream of gross-out teen comedies. The primary pleasure of the movie is the engaging female cast headed by Lisa Hartman, Lorna Luft, Lynn-Holly Johnson and Wendy Schall as the adventurous coeds, with Louise Sorel and Alana Stewart playing upper crust, pretentious cougars. The direction by old pro Hy Averback, primarily known for his work on television, is competent enough, and he stages a ludicrous but ambitious scene in which countless kids use a makeshift armada to descend upon a mansion for an anything-goes style party.  The film's climax is a cringe-inducing concert that drips with so much sugary syrup that it makes the Archies look like The Sex Pistols. Purists will be relieved to know that Connie Francis' chart topping title song is played over the end credits, capably crooned by Lisa Hartman. 

The DVD includes new interviews with Wendy Schall and Russell Todd,. Both are very charming but neither presents much in the way of insights beyond "he/she was a pleasure to work with" in reference to their stars. However, they do extol the virtues of Allan Carr, whose madcap determination to make a blockbuster had him convinced this would be another Saturday Night Fever. He was wrong. The film under-performed at the boxoffice, but looking at it in retrospect, it has a certain charm for those of us with fond memories of the bygone era of the 1980s. (An original theatrical trailer is also included).

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Christopher Atkins in A Night in Heaven (1983)

Jamie Lee Curtis in True Lies (1994)

The Huffington Post provides us with a completely gratuitous reason to run photos of sexy guys and girls: their poll asks who was the most convincing on-screen stripper.

Hi Lee,

When you say in your online reply to the Candy defender that you're "about the only one who will admit to seeing some great things in Michael Cimino's Heaven's Gate", do you mean the only in your house? The only one of Retro's editors? If not, I'd be amazed if you didn't know that the film has a large following of reputable critics who regard it (as I do) as one of the last great Hollywood movies. See, for instance, the chapter on it in Robin Wood's book Hollywood from Vietnam to Reagan (in the Sight and Sound 1982 critics poll, Wood named it as one of the ten greatest films of all time).

On the other hand, I think you're right about Skidoo. But I know one academic critic who loves it! I don't think Rosebud is too bad either. I guess every film has its champion - and some have more than you might think.

Best,

Sheldon Hall

Retro Responds: Sheldon, my rhetoric was rather sloppy. I am aware that there are other defenders of Heaven's Gate. I believe there is a guy in Bayonne, New Jersey and a hermit living under a bridge in Kent. Seriously, while I am not aware of any significant number of prominent critics who defend Heaven's Gate, I do know that the film was accorded a much better reception in Europe, primarily in France and some other critics have warmed to it over the decades. Nevertheless, I would happy if there was a move to re-evaluate this fine film. It's one of those epics that was ill-conceived from a financial standpoint.  Releasing a Socialist Western at the dawn of the Reagan era seemed to make it inevitable that the movie would be a box-office bomb. However, that doesn't negate it's value as a dramatic movie. In fairness, much of the virtriol leveled at the film was largely because of the many unfavorable stories in the trade press and mainstream media that presented Michael Cimino as a pompous egotist who had the audacity to not even show the finished movie to the studio that financed it until the night of the premiere. Adding to the film's sorry legacy was the bestselling book Final Cut by United Artists executive Steven Bach that provides in painful detail the amazing number of miscalculations that went into bringing the movie to reality.  A modestly-budgeted Western morphed into an outrageously expensive marketing disaster. Nevertheless, your comments peak my interest in watching the film again. I smell a future article for Cinema Retro.. By the way, I'll use this opportunity to give you a gratuitous plug:

Sheldon Hall is the author of numerous books about the cinema, including Zulu: With Some Guts Behind It, The Making of the Epic Movie. His latest book is Widescreen Worldwide.

- Lee Pfeiffer

Exorcist fans are partying like it's 1973, with the recent big screen showings of the extended director's cut of the movie as well as the soon-to-be-released Blu-ray special edition that contains unseen behind-the-scenes footage. Additionally, the next issue of Cinema Retro (#19) will feature a cover story on the film and an exclusive interview with William Peter Blatty.  Adding to the hoopla, the Museum of Modern Art in New York just hosted a special event relating to the film. 

By David Savage

The Museum of Modern Art’s famed Titus Theater was the setting for an unforgettable evening last Wednesday, September 29^th, as director William Friedkin, actress Linda Blair, and other crew members reunited for a screening of The Exorcist: The Extended Director’s Cut. The event was timed to celebrate the upcoming release of a landmark new collector’s edition, two-disc Blu-ray™ set, available beginning October 5^th from Warner Home Video.

Projected on the big screen in a spectacular, remastered print in 1080p from the original camera negative, and with restored sound that revealed subtleties from the original score and sound reel seemingly lost under a layer of murk until now, the entire experience was like a layer of sooty tape had been lifted off the entire film, both heightening its cinematographic beauty as well as restoring its power to drop jaws as it did 37 years ago. The theater’s Dolby processor/ 5.1 surround system seemed to turn up the aural and emotional volume on the terror.

While the film is routinely included in the horror genre, Friedkin stressed that it was never intended to be a horror film, but rather “a film about the mystery of faith.” Indeed, he confirmed with novelist and screenwriter William Peter Blatty (onstage after the screening) that they never mentioned the word horror during the entire production. Every decision they made, Friedkin said, was steeped in research, realism and getting at the truthful representation of the characters’ confrontation with religious belief. Horror-film conventions were irrelevant, he said, a perspective which influenced everything from the screenwriting to the cinematography.

Personally, I’ve always maintained (and Friedkin’s remarks seemed to back me up) that the film is only on the surface about the demonic possession of a little girl. Its deeper focus lies on a priest’s crisis of faith. As he tries to come to terms with the role he played in the neglect and death of his mother, he must also negotiate his own moral crossroads as he decides whether or not to get involved with a real-life exorcism involving an innocent 13 year-old girl.

Even at their most shocking and (to people of faith) sacrilegious, the scenes involving the demonic possession of Regan do not play as gratuitous, a point further echoing Friedkin’s contention stated above. There is a seriousness of purpose and, strangely enough, a palpable piety in the treatment of desecration, sacrilege and heresy. Again, Blatty and Friedkin, together with cinematographer Owen Roizman (also present), discussed for months before shooting began how they were going to approach such explosive subject matter in a manner that would not involve genre-conventions, shock appeal or empty, transgressive gestures toward organized religion.

After the screening, audience members were given the treat of a lifetime to see Friedkin joined on the stage, first by novelist and Oscar-winning screenwriter (for this film) William Peter Blatty, then by cinematographer Owen Roizman (who also lensed Friedkin’s The French Connection), then by Linda Blair (looking fit and lovely at 51), and finally by Chris Newman, the sound maestro on the film.

Blatty and Friedkin sparred like the old friends they are, with Blatty mercilessly teasing Friedkin about a continuity lapse in one scene, which Friedkin rebutted with “Bill, I view that like cracks in fine leather.” Their tone underscored the family atmosphere that was established while working on the film and which continues to this day.

As Cinema Retro 'regulars'  know, we have occasionally been able to find unpublished or rarely-seen interviews with legendary film personalities and provide them for our readers. In issue #1 of the magazine, Steve Mori provided an unseen interview Steve McQueen from 1968 and in issue #15, Steve did the same with a fascinating 1974 discussion with Lee Marvin. Now contributing writer Kris Gilpin has been kind enough to share with us with a 1988 interview with director Monte Hellman, whose work is revered by some of the great directors of our time. Please keep in mind that the text and events that are discussed in this interview took place in 1988 and have not been amended. (This is part one of a two-part interview.)

INTERVIEW WITH MONTE HELLMAN

By Kris Gilpin

Born July 12^th, 1932 in New York City, writer-director Monte Hellman’s work is miles above typical American drivel; while working in various traditional genres (war, western, road film, etc.), he has produced a series of very personal character studies, while still remaining true to the genre within which each film is set.  And his films have a definite European flavor to them; in fact, he still has a huge following in Europe – with Monte Hellman film festivals constantly being held there – despite the fact that his last feature (the western China 9, Liberty 37, starring the late, great Warren Oates, Jenny [An American Werewolf in London] Agutter and Italian superstar Fabio Testi) was released a decade ago.

After studying theater at Stanford University and film at UCLA, Hellman spent three years acting and directing in summer stock before landing his first gig in film, as the assistant editor on the Richard Boone TV series, Medic.  He quit that job to return to directing plays for a theatre company he founded, then accepted an offer from B-movie mogul Roger Corman (who had invested in his theatre company); Hellman’s first film, Beast from Haunted Cave, was shot back-to-back with Corman’s Ski Troop Attack in North Dakota, using the same cast, crew and locations.  He then helped finish a number of films for Corman, one of which was the infamous The Terror, starring Boris Karloff, Jack Nicholson and Dick Miller, a film they all made up as they went along.

Next, Hellman shot two films back-to-back in the Philippines, Back Door to Hell, a war story with Nicholson and country singer Jimmie Roders, and Flight to Fury, a film noir starring, and written by, Jack Nicholson.  (Hellman, who always edits his own pictures, was cutting Back Door at night, while directing Flight during the day.)

His international fame came in 1967, with a pair of westerns filmed in Utah (once again back-to-back): the existentialist, purposely vague The Shooting (with Nicholson and Oates) and equally existential Ride in the Whirlwind (with Cameron Mitchell and Nicholson, who once again wrote the script).  Four years later I first saw Hellman’s subtle cult masterpiece, Two-Lane Blacktop (which featured Oates in a superb performance, the late Beach Boy drummer-singer Dennis Wilson and songwriter James Taylor, in his only starring role), and I’ve been in love with road movies ever since that day.  The film’s screenplay, by Rudy (Candy Mountain – another road film – and Walker) Wurlitzer and Will Cory, was so impressive it was published in its entirety before the film’s release in Esquire magazine.  This was followed by Cockfighter (aka Born to Kill), again starring Warren Oates, this time with Harry Dean Stanton; the film was recut by producer Roger Corman and not seen its original form until several years later.

Now Monte Hellman is back with Iguana, the story of Oberlus, a sailor from the early 19^th Century who is persecuted due to the lizard-like scales, which deform half of his face and neck (Oberlus is played by Everett [Quest for Fire, Silver Bullet] McGill).  He flees to a desert island, where he declares war on mankind, capturing castaway sailors and cutting off the fingers and heads of the “slaves” who disobey him.  When Carmen (Maru Valdivielso), a beautiful/sexy Spanish libertine, comes to the island, the two of them eventually play out a twisted version of Beauty and the Beast (the film also features Fabio Testi in a supporting role).

Hellman was kind enough to give me a friendly, long interview on Saturday October 29^th, 1988, in his Los Angeles home.  I met his pretty daughter, Melissa, and marveled at the framed stills and lobby cards adorning the walls and bookshelves (early stills of Nicholson, John Ford [with Hellman], Sam Peckinpah [who acted in Hellman’s China 9], Martin Landau, Millin [The Shooting, Ride in the Whirlwind] Perkins, the late Laurie Bird [from Two-Land Blacktop, as the hitchhiker who unknowingly breaks up the cross-country race between Warren Oates and James Taylor, and she was also in Cockfighter]; a foreign lobby card for La Sparatoria [The Shooting], a Japanese lobby card for Two-Lane, etc.  And you can still hear the loss in his voice when Hellman recalls his old friends Oates and Bird).  Many thanks to Monte Hellman (who has always been a favorite filmmaker of mine) for giving me such a complete interview that day.

 

Are you going to do special features on any of the following films ?

1. Dr Phibes and Dr Phibes Rises Again
2. Theatre of Blood
3. The Wicker Man
4. Straw Dogs

Thanks,

Bill Kelly

Retro responds: All good suggestions, Bill - but we're ahead of you. Issue #2 features an article by Caroline Munro on the making of the Dr. Phibes films starring Vincent Price. Issue #3 features an 18 page tribute to Sam Peckinpah (though it primarily focused on The Wild Bunch and Major Dundee). However, issue #10 has an insightful article called The Unseen Peckinpah which covers scenes from Straw Dogs that did not end up in the final cut. We hope to get to Theatre of Blood and The Wicker Man in due course. In fact, our columnist John Exshaw recently met with Christopher Lee in London and conducted what is probably the most in-depth interview about his films and career. As Christopher puts The Wicker Man near the top of his personal favorites, it's certain we'll be doing a feature on that film at some point in the future. Thanks for bringing up the film, Bill, as it gives us an excuse to recycle this gratuitous photo of Britt Ekland from the movie.

Point Blank with Crime Novelist Ed Gorman

Interview by Dean Brierly

Ed Gorman is a writer of tough crime fiction that evokes in its relentless narrative drive and brooding atmospherics the classic crime and noir films of Hollywood’s golden era. Gorman’s outsider characters bear numerous affinities with the doomed protagonists of noir, and he frequently leads them on nerve-shredding journeys to the end of the savage night. Since the publication of his first novel in 1985, Gorman has written dozens of compulsively readable suspense, horror and science fiction books characterized by fascination (and empathy) with the dark side of human nature, with fear and loneliness, with transgression and redemption.

No surprise then that the man described as “the poet of dark suspense” turns out to be a lifelong devotee of dark cinema. What is surprising is that it took Hollywood so long to recognize this literary heavyweight’s knockout appeal. The Poker Club, the first Gorman book to be adapted for the screen, is currently in post-production. His latest novel, Fools Rush In (Pegasus Publishing), continues his obsession with characters who live and die on the wrong side of the tracks. In this exclusive Cinema Retro interview, Gorman talks about the seminal crime films that have long fascinated and inspired him.

In issue #7 of Cinema Retro, Paul Talbot, author of Bronson's Loose: The Making of the Death Wish Films, revisited the 1974 film that started the franchise. He now brings us interviews with actresses Robin Sherwood and Silvana Gallardo who appeared in the the film's controversial sequel, Death Wish II.

In 1981 star Charles Bronson and director Michael Winner reunited for Death Wish II, a follow-up to one of the highest grossing and most discussed films of 1974. In Death Wish II, vigilante Paul Kersey hits the streets to avenge the brutal rape and murder of his daughter (who had already been rendered comatose after an attack in the first film) and his Hispanic housekeeper. The sequel became not only another box-office hit, but the most-controversial film in the five-title series and the lone entry that alienates even the most diehard Bronson fans. Death Wish II owes most of its notoriety to two brutal and vicious rape scenes that were so grisly that they had to be extensively edited to achieve an R rating in the United States and were cut even further for England.

We once received a letter from a subscriber who said that while Cinema Retro is his favorite film magazine, the content was best suited for a magazine titled Cinema Hetero. We confess to being guilty of over-emphasizing stories that tend to favor middle-aged, straight white guys because...er...our magazine is put together by two middle aged, straight white guys. However, our new web site has liberated us to expand our horizons and be more inclusive with our content. Let's face it...straight guys see hints of lesbianism in everything including the Ginger and Maryann scenes from Gilligan's Island. Are these just absurd fantasies or are there really intentional, latent homoerotic images in some of our most cherished films and TV series?

Journalist Diana Blackwell examines this scenario as it pertains to one of the most beloved war films of all time, the 1964 epic Zulu which recounted the legendary stand by a small number of British soldiers against an overwhelming number of Zulu warriors. In England, this is the equal of the American's Alamo - only with a happy ending. In this analysis, Ms. Blackwell examines latent homoerotic images in the film. Is this simply a case of a female perceiving homoerotic fantasies that don't reflect the intended content of a film or has she uncovered some hidden messages in oft-viewed classic adventure story? You can judge for yourself - but we think this article will tempt you to view Zulu again just to examine her thoroughly-researched conclusions. At the very least, Ms. Blackwell's article about Zulu gives an all new perspective to "keeping the British end up."

Introduction

Zulu has always seemed like a sexy movie to me despite its lack of love scenes or romantic subplots. The sexiness has little to do with Zulu’s few scenes of women: the bare-breasted Zulu girls aren’t onscreen for very long, while the missionary’s daughter, Miss Witt, is buttoned-up in every way. ¹ No, Zulu is sexy because of its men and the subtly homoerotic quality of their interactions.

Ultra rare poster style

Fox has released special editions of two sci-fi classics and one mid-range film. The two real gems are Fantastic Voyage and Voyage to the Bottom of Sea. The third title is the little-seen adventure The Neptune Factor. We'll be reviewing them all over the course of the next week, but for the moment let's begin with Fantastic Voyage - a special edition that fans have been lobbying to get for years. The premise finds a diplomat who is about to die from a blood clot on his brain. He possesses vital intelligence information that pertains to national security. A team of scientists are shrunk to microscopic size and injected into his body. They have a very limited time table to perform surgery from inside the patient then get out before the body's natural defenses begin to attack them. Thus, this makes the first film in which you can justifiably shout "What a body" without it referring to star Raquel Welch.