Blu Ray Review: The Last American Virgin [15]

Dir: Boaz Davidson

The Film

Long lost to the UK market (the only previous release was a 1987 VHS, which is rare enough that I've never seen a copy), The Last American Virgin really should be recognised as one of the key American teen movies of the 1980s.

Based on director Boaz Davidson's Israeli film Lemon Popsicle, which spawned a long-running series of sequels and was in turn based on his own teenage years, The Last American Virgin is a knockabout sex comedy, wrapped up in a very relatable story about high school friendships and relationships.  The film focuses on three friends, Gary (Lawrence Monoson), Rick (Steve Antin) and David (Joe Rubbo).  Initially, it's a romp as the three get in various sexual scrapes.  However, it takes a more serious turn in its other story, as Gary falls for Karen (Diane Franklin), the new girl in school.  Karen prefers Rick, but when Rick dumps her after she tells him that he made her pregnant during their one sexual encounter, Gary is there to pick up the pieces.

If not the best teen movie of the 80's, The Last American Virgin is certainly one of the most unusual, introducing a note of grim reality seldom seen even in the darker examples of the genre (the American ones anyway).  Before that point, it works well as a sex comedy in the Porky's mould, with a genuinely funny, farcical, opening sequence of the guys bringing three girls back to Gary's house, where things go hilariously and awkwardly wrong (I suspect the makers of the American Pie series studied this sequence).  Even this sequence feels grounded though, and this is something of a hallmark of the film, though it's not above flights of fancy, especially in the sequence with Louisa Moritz as the eager European who wants to induct each of the boys into sex.

Davidson does good work in laying the downbeat tone of the film in as a running theme.  Gary and his cohorts may get caught up in comedic shenanigans, but we're never far from a scene that rings searingly true – remember that time the girl you were in love with from afar tried to set you up with her friend?  How about that time she went off with your more popular mate?  Monoson does the 'everykid' bit well and makes you feel for Gary in the many scenes where he's at arm's length from Karen, longing to say something.  The other side of that equation is Diane Franklin, who makes you fall just as hopelessly in love with Karen as Gary does, at least until the ending of the film.

That ending is something I can't discuss, but it's the thing that will make or break the film for a viewer.  For me it makes it, every time it's as if a hole has been punched through your chest, for two reasons.  First, there's the fact that we've seen the things that Gary has done for Karen, particularly in the film's second hour, when the knockabout sex comedy is replaced by a grimly realistic take on abortion.  It also works this way because we've been trained on what to expect by years of American teen movies, but this one gut punches you with the full force of what being a teenager really felt like (unless you were Rick, in which case I'd love to know what you make of the ending).  It's a hell of a rug pull at first, but on reflection, it does mesh with the film's prevailing tone, and it certainly makes it stand out.

The Last American Virgin doesn't always mesh its comedy and its drama perfectly, and the first act can feel very scattershot, but it tugs on your emotions more effectively and more realistically than most of its kind.  That often makes it painful, it also makes it memorable.

The Disc

My screener of this Arrow Video release had an issue that I requested clarification on; I noticed, from time to time, a very slight gap in the sound sychronisation.  For the record, I own an older US DVD release of the film, and I don't recall any sync issues with that.  I will be buying this release, because I'm a big fan of the film, so I will update this review when I can clarify whether this issue is present on retail copies as well.

Aside from this, this is another exemplary release from Arrow Video.  The picture is spectacular; it's a little soft, but in a way that preserves a filmic feel, but the detail is outstanding.  It's arguable whether the film would have looked this good in cinemas.

The Extras

A shade thin for an Arrow release.  We get substantial interviews with Boaz Davidson, Lawrence Monoson and Diane Franklin, but it would have been really nice to have a commentary, or a feature on the Lemon Popsicle films as well.  There is also a booklet with writing on the film, but this was not supplied for review.

Overall

This is probably as close to a definitive release of The Last American Virgin as we'll ever see.  The picture is spectacular, and the extras offer some insight into what I still think is one of the best films from one the best cycles of teen movies.  I highly recommend that you discover this film, and this is easily the best way to do so.

Film: ★★★★
Disc: ★★★

A Good Day to Die Hard: Uncut [15]

Dir: John Moore

I refused to see A Good Day to Die Hard at the cinema because 20th Century Fox decided to baby British viewers, cutting the film for a 12A rating at the cinema for purely commercial reasons, while releasing the full R Rated cut (though NOT this cut, which is exclusive to Blu Ray) in the US.

The fifth in the series, A Good Day to Die Hard follows John McClane (Bruce Willis, visibly totting up what he's going to do with the paycheque) to Russia, where his son Jack (Jai Courtney) is on trial for murder.  Of course that's not the whole story, Jack is CIA agent charged with protecting a man (Sebastian Koch) who may have information on a nuclear plot against the US and John gets caught up in his mission.

It's difficult to enumerate the ways in which A Good Day to Die Hard is a terrible movie, but I'll try to give you a partial list.

1: It is all - ALL - teal and orange.

This is one of my least favourite current trends, one that is making movies all but indistinguishable from one another and almost every single shot in AGDTDH is filtered with either a steely teal blue or an amber shade (mostly the former).  It looks atrocious, and is just one more thing that undermines the verisimilitude that made the first Die Hard so great.

2: It's weak sauce.

15 it may be, but even in this version AGDTDH is anaemic when it comes to any really adult content.  At least when Die Hard 4.0 was beefed up for  its uncut version there was something of the sweary snap that McClane had in the first three films.  Here the language remains very muted (about six F Bombs), and feels very perfunctory and tacked on.  The difference, it seems to me, is that for 4.0 restoring McClane's cursing may have BEEN fan service, but here it FEELS like fan service.  The weak sauce feel also extends to the action.  You never get the sense that the violence hurts McClane (or Jack for that matter) and there's a tremendous lack of invention at work.  The first action scene is a tedious near 15 minute car chase, and towards the end the same action beat is essentially repeated twice.  However, the problems run deeper even than this.

3: It doesn't understand the franchise it's a part of.

This is the key failing of the film.  The great strength of Die Hard (and one that has been less the case with every subsequent film, to the detriment of the series) was that John McClane was not some heroic figure; he was a guy hanging on by his fingernails - in all aspects of his life.  Here, McClane is more of a superhero than ever, okay, he's got a few scratches by the end, but he's nothing like the limping bloodied shell we see at the end of the first (and even the two subsequent) films.  If anything shouldn't he be more vulnerable at 57 than he was at 32?

McClane was also always a reluctant hero, but there is little reason for him to get drawn into this.  Yes, his son is in danger, but his son, it turns out, is a highly trained CIA operative who tells his Dad, multiple times, that he's really not helping.  McClane should be a spanner in the bad guy's works, not making the bad guy's day easier by fucking up his son's plan.  This also comes through in the script's apparent lack of knowledge about why McClane is in Russia in the first place.  He goes there, it's clear, because Jack has been arrested and is going on trial for murder, and yet he INCESSANTLY says that being caught up in the plot here is ruining his vacation.  This is how lazy the screenplay is; the screenwriters didn't even remember, or think to check, the reason McClane is in this situation in the first place.

Another thing the film fails to understand about this franchise is that McClane doesn't like violence.  McClane has tended to go out of his way to avoid collateral damage (remember how devastated he is in Die Hard 2 when he can't save a plane, and the effort he goes to in the attempt), this sits rather at odds with the big car chase here, which sees him nonchalantly driving over the roofs of occupied cars, presumably killing many people in the process.

All of this, along with Bruce Willis' disconnected performance, a terrible villain and a charisma vacuum in Jai Courtney, conspire to make this film feel very unlike a Die Hard movie.  The 'uncut' version is no help.  According to an online comparison the major change, aside from a few more F words, is the removal of Mary Elizabeth Winstead's cameo as Lucy McClane.  This is irritating.  Winstead was one of the brightest parts of Die Hard 4.0, and there's an inherent charm to her that could only have helped this film, not, I suspect, that it would have led me to alter the grade.

Ultimately, A Good Day to Die Hard is a lazy, stupid, boring badly written and shot movie that seems to have been produced by people who not only don't like Die Hard, not only don't understand it, but may simply never have seen it.  Of the three action comebacks from the stars of the 80's and 90's, this is by far the worst, largely because it feels like an insult to a genuinely great film.
★

Blu Ray Review: From Beyond [18]

Dir: Stuart Gordon

Released to follow his previous Lovecraft adaptation, the classic Re-Animator, but actually made after the later release Dolls, Stuart Gordon’s From Beyond really feels like someone putting a band back together after a little time off. In front of the camera he has Re-Animator stars Jeffrey Combs and Barbara Crampton (both playing mad scientists this time out, but also swapping roles to a certain degree, as it’s she who wants to explore the limits of science and he who ends up a victim) and behind the scenes much of the same effects crew, producer Brian Yuzna, co-writer Dennis Paoli and composer Richard Band.

The film apparently departs quite some way from Lovecraft’s story, which is essentially contained within the pre-credits sequence. Combs plays Dr Crawford Tillingast who, along with Dr Edward Pretorius (Ted Sorel), has been working on a machine called a resonator, which stimulates the Pineal gland deep in the brain, allowing humans to see an otherwise invisible parallel dimension. This being a Stuart Gordon film, the things in that parallel dimension want to kill us in extremely gooey ways. Tillingast goes mad when the machine goes wrong, sucking Pretorius into the other dimension, but brilliant psychiatrist Dr Katherine McMichaels (Crampton) thinks that by taking him back to where it happened and exposing him to the resonator she can cure him. She’s not right.

Gordon and his actors apparently did quite a lot of research on the pineal gland and its real function before making the film – apparently it has functions including processing light and also seems to have a connection to the sex drive, which is something we see in both Sorel and Crampton’s characters – but while this is all laudable research and the film is definitely not dumb, it’s also not one that I feel a great need to analyse for deeper meanings about the nature of people or reality. This is no bad thing, it’s simply that there are some movies that I really want to dig into and explore the themes and ideas of, and others that I want to kick back and enjoy, and From Beyond is the latter, and on that level it’s a fantastic 85 minutes.

Jeffrey Combs is an actor with a highly developed sense of the ridiculous, but he’s also very talented, and he walks an intriguing tightrope here; often just tenths of a centimetre from going too over the top, but also giving us a sense of a good scientist losing his mind. When he, along with everyone else in the film, is let off the chain towards the end it’s tremendous fun. Barbara Crampton is too young for her part, and – while I love her and she’s good here – she’s not the world’s most convincing wunderkind psychiatrist – where she does excel is in putting across Dr McMichaels’ transformation, as the resonator breaks down her barriers (first the glasses go, then the hair comes down, then the clothes come off). She’s quite obviously having tremendous fun, which perfectly suits the character as the machine takes control of her. Ted Sorel almost drowns in his make up, but still manages an impressively bastardly performance as a character who is, if such a thing is possible, even more perverse than Re-Animator‘s Dr Hill. The main cast is rounded out by genre legend Ken Foree, who is his usual imposing but charming self and Carolyn Purdy-Gordon as a doctor who may have mixed motives.

Perhaps the true stars of the film, however, are the make up technicians, led by Mark Shostrom, who created all manner of amazing looking latex creatures from another dimension. The work done on the various stages of Ted Sorel’s mutation can stand proudly alongside work from Society, the Nightmare on Elm Street series or Legend as some of the outright coolest practical effects of the 80′s, and they really do aid the film’s verisimilitude, both because they have a distinct physical presence and because they really do seem to be from another dimension. Stuart Gordon and DP Mac Ahlberg’s visuals also contribute to this otherworldly feel, with some visual ideas that clearly grow out of Re-Animator, but this is perhaps a more distinctive looking film – though also one that is absolutely of its time. The look grows ever more extreme as the film goes on, and you’ll be hard pressed to find another film that looks like this one.

Overall, From Beyond is a wonderful, if rather disgusting, entertainment. At the moments it is silly it embraces its silliness, but it never confuses silliness for stupidity. The blu ray not only restores some of the more extreme gore moments (over four minutes worth), but it also shows you, really for the first time, just how well crafted the film is as a whole.

The Disc

For a 27 year old low budget horror movie, From Beyond looks downright spectacular, and the work that has gone into preparing this print made me feel as if I had just seen it again for the first time. The eccentric colour palete – full of glowing pinks and purples – is extremely well represented and, even if it sometimes means you can see a join between make up and an actor’s skin, the detail that this Blu Ray brings out in the print does spectacular justice to the work of the practical effects artists who worked on the film.

As I always note in Blu Ray reviews, I haven’t got a surround system yet, but from what I can discern this is a clean and well balanced soundtrack which serves the film perfectly well.

The Extras
Second Sight have really pushed the boat out for this first digital UK release of From Beyond, and provided a large and wide ranging selection of extras.

Leading the collection is a commentary, the menu gives no details of the participants, but happily director Stuart Gordon is joined by producer Brian Yuzna and stars Jeffrey Combs and Barbara Crampton. It’s a fun track, as we heard on their Re-Animator commentary these people like hanging out with each other and they tell affectionate stories and jokes about From Beyond throughout the track.

Further context, and some repetition, is offered in newly shot interviews with Gordon (Incorporating footage from a post-screening Q and A and running 20 mins), Crampton (14 mins) and co-writer Dennis Paoli (16 mins). All of the interviews provide interesting background on their subjects, as well as tackling From Beyond from their individual perspectives, despite the repetition they will be valuable for fans.

Monsters and Slime: The FX of From Beyond (20 mins) is a ‘does exactly what it says on the tin’ type of featurette which starts off with some discussion of Re-Animator before moving on to deal with From Beyond in detail. This is the stuff that most horror fans, myself included, love: old school special effects and make up, and to hear the people who made these ingeniously disgusting gags talk about them with affection and insight. The behind the scenes pictures of the make up in progress are a real treat for fans.

Director’s Perspective is an older feature, which runs 8 minutes, and has Gordon speaking about the project. This seems like overkill, and as if it may have been prepared for the US DVD release, all of the information in this feature is repeated and elaborated on elsewhere on the disc.

The Editing Room: Lost and Found (4 mins) is another older feature, highlighting the differences between the R Rated and Uncut versions of From Beyond. Again, much of this is discussed elsewhere, but it’s a good way to get all of the information on the reinsertion and restoration of the previously cut material in a quick single shot.

Also salvaged from the previous DVD release is a 4 minute interview with composer Richard Band, whose odd score is a central part of the film. It’s fascinating hearing Band talk about how he used the music and even the instrumentation to echo the film’s story, and his choice to go with motifs, rather than themes, in the music.

The last two features are certainly the least interesting: a photo montage does what it says on the tin, but the storyboard to film comparison does even less than that, it’s just 82 seconds worth of very prosaic comparisons from one scene.

Ultimately though, this remains a strong and incredibly comprehensive extras package for a film you wouldn’t have expected to get such consideration.

Summary
While it’s not quite the deathless classic that Re-Animator is, From Beyond is a tremendously entertaining, if sometimes quite silly, nasty little horror flick. It’s great to finally see it in its full version, and given the sort of love it deserves in terms of its transfer and extras. A highly recommended release for horror lovers.

★★★★

Blu Ray Reviews: Radley Metzger Triple Bill

On February 11th, Arrow Video are releasing three Radley Metzger films, Camille 2000, The Lickerish Quartet and Score as dual format editions.  You'll find a combined review of all three releases below.

The Films

When these films landed on my doorstep, given my limited prior knowledge of Radley Metzger (I had seen only one of his films before this; The Image, made after Score), I was expecting three helpings of sixties and seventies sexploitation, but, from the opening moment of Camille 2000 - the earliest of these three films - it's clear that Metzger has more highbrow aspirations than most directors working in adult film.  Not only is Camille 2000 adapted from the story by Alexandre Dumas, but it sets out a determinedly stylised stall from the off, opening with a slate and an informal scene of the cast horsing around on the steps of the opera house the first scene will take place in.

Metzger clearly has a signature style as a filmmaker, and you can see it reflected and refined through these three films, which each have strong visual identities.  While they deliver the sex, nudity and eroticism that audiences would have gone to them in pursuit of they also want to entertain and satisfy in terms of storytelling.

Camille 2000 is the weakest film here, its story of the fall of Marguerite a modern day courtesan (perhaps an overly polite word) and the affair she has with a man who is simply not rich enough to keep her in the style to which she's accustomed is well acted, especially by leading lady Danièle Gaubert, but at 130 minutes the pace is extremely slack, and the drama doesn't quite sustain the film.  That said, it is incredibly striking looking.  Constrained by the censorship conditions of 1969, Metzger has to find interesting ways to imply the harder action he can't show.   This leads to a fun little metaphor where he repeatedly racks focus between Gaubert and some flowers in one scene, the rack getting faster as she gets more worked up.  It's likely for the same reason that there are so many shots, particularly during the sex scenes, in which we see the characters in mirrors.  In one shot, taken from above, the entwined bodies of Marguerite and her lover Armand (Nino Castelnuovo) are reflected over and over, creating a multilayered effect that is pretty unique.  Camille 2000 is also strong from a design standpoint; the boldly coloured late 60's chic creates a striking look for the film.

Beautifully photographed and framed throughout, the film hits standout moments when it combines these qualities with its stronger moments of storytelling, as in a long orgy sequence in which Marguerite and Armand, now split up, attempt to make each other jealous.  This is where the performers really excel too, selling the emotional as well as the physical content of these scenes.

If Camille 2000 is flawed but promising, for me, The Lickerish Quartet, from 1970 delivers on the promise.  Here Metzger ups the explicitness of his erotic content, strips back the setup and delivers a surreal and playful work that not only bears but positively demands analysis.  In an extended opening sequence a middle aged couple and their late-teenage son (Frank Wolff, Erika Remberg and Paolo Turco) watch and critique an 8mm adult film (often mocking it).  The son doesn't want to continue with this form of entertainment, so they go out to a carnival and see a motorcycle stunt ride.  When the female rider takes her helmet off the couple believe that she (Silvana Venturelli) is one of the girls from the loop they were just watching.  They invite her back to their home, and that's when things get very strange.

Sexploitation cinema doesn't usually need much interpretation; the purpose is clear from the start, most don't seem to aspire to saying much beyond 'look at these boobs'.  The Lickerish Quartet is different.  There are likely as many readings of this film as there are viewers, for me, the most interesting thread is about cinema.  The opening scene could easily be taken as Metzger's critique of the worth of his own work, while the rest of the film retains that idea, but also uses the story, the ever-changing film within the film and the editing to say something about the effect of cinema on our perception.  It's also entirely possible that that reading has nothing to do with what Metzger wanted to say with this film, but whatever your take on its meanings, this is a  fascinating film that is clearly operating on a much more sophisticated level than your typical slice of softcore.

Of the four leads (who are, essentially, the only people in the film) three are excellent; Venturelli is seductive and mysterious, while Frank Wolff and Erika Remberg add to the 'anything could happen' atmosphere with their detached performances as the bored, jaded aristocrats.  Only Paolo Turco lets the side down, though he's saddled with the film's worst dialogue.  Once again the deign is striking and the now more explicit sex (none of Camille 2000's careful concealing here) is actually pretty sexy, thanks in no small part to the stunning Venturelli.  Ultimately though, The Lickerish Quartet is notable for much, much more than its sex scenes, it's a rewarding and interesting film that straddles the line between art and smut as capably and intriguingly as the best of Walerian Borowczyk's work.

1974's Score is the last and latest of these three Metzger releases, it also likely to be the more controversial one for the director's admirers.  Score exists in two cuts: an uncut version which features a hardcore scene and an R Rated version.  From what the usually very reliable anti-censorhip site Melonfarmers says, it seems that Arrow initially submitted the uncut version, and were asked to make a little over two minutes worth of cuts to get an 18, but that the version now being released is cut by almost five minutes more, which would suggest that when the film was resubmitted the decision was taken to simply submit the R Rated version.  I've asked for comment from both the BBFC and Arrow on this issue.

Censorship issues aside, Score is yet another fine film from Metzger.  Based on an off Broadway play (which featured Sylvester Stallone), Metzger transports the action from New York to a coastal town in Europe, but otherwise keeps the story of a swinging couple in their thirties Claire Wilbur, who played the same role on stage and Gerald Grant) who have a bet running on how many people they can 'score' with and their attempts, over 24 hours to seduce a couple about ten years younger than them (Calvin Culver and cult star Lynn Lowry).  The thing that still makes Score rather different to your usual sexploitation film is the configuration of its pairings.  Both the older couple are bisexual, and the film contrives a same sex partner swap (the deleted hardcore scene is between Grant and Culver).  I can only imagine the reaction of the dirty mac brigade on 42nd street in 1974, not just because, though there is quite a lot of nudity and a brief sex scene before, the film takes an hour or more to get to the main sexual event but also because this would have been something you were unlikely to see at the time outside of gay porn.

The film is dialogue heavy, and the cast all acquit themselves well.  The elfin Lowry is perhaps best; her naive and repressed character slowly melting away, influenced by drugs and a headily sexual atmosphere, but Claire Wilbur is also excellent as the more forceful woman, whose unarticulated frustrations as she slowly tries to seduce Lowry are pretty funny.  You'd expect less of Calvin Culver and Gerald Grant, as neither was so much an actor as a gay porn star, but they both do good work.

Metzger's visual invention was employed to practical as well as artistic purpose on this film.  Lynn Lowry at one point developed a fever blister on her lip, leading to one of the film's most striking images as she and Wilbur talk with an odd decoration; a seesawing plastic bar, filled with water, obscuring the lower halves of their faces.  Set in a more typical home than The Lickerish Quartet, this is perhaps the most visually restrained of these three films, but Metzger still has a great sense of composition, and the film never feels static or stagebound, even in the long sequence that takes place in the older couple's house.

A lighter, more direct, film than either Camille 2000 or The Lickerish Quartet, Score is nevertheless highly enjoyable.  It's solidly written and acted, looks great, and in terms of its eroticism it certainly caters for all tastes.

The Discs

All of these transfers are much of a muchness, and all of them are seriously impressive given what and how old they are.  All three films exhibit some print damage (Score more than the others), but it's never intrusive and damaged frames are very much the exception, rather than the rule. The rest of the news is good; while the HD 'pop' you get from the very best Blu Rays is understandably absent, these films are very pleasing to look at.  Detail is impressive (and explicit) and the colours seem vibrant and true (especially compared to clips of the films seen in some of the interview footage).  Grain is present, but neither it nor DNR seem to affect the film like look of the picture.  It's not their most revelatory work, but these editions maintain Arrow's reputation for quality. 

The Extras

Extensive, as you'd expect.  All three films get commentary tracks with the talkative and engaging Metzger, alongside film historian Michael Bowen, and all three discs also have trailers for each of the three films. 

Camille 2000 and Score both have lengthy behind the scenes footage from the set, given context with more commentary from Metzger (though he does repeat some of the information in the commentary tracks).

Camille 2000 and The Lickerish Quartet each feature deleted and alternate scenes (which really show up how good the films look).

A handful of other bits round out the video extras.  On Camille 2000 there is a restoration comparison, on The Lickerish Quartet a comparison between the location and dubbed soundtracks and on Score a 19 minute interview with Lynn Lowry, who is very candid about both the good and bad experiences she had relating to the film.

Finally, each of the films comes with a collectors booklet by Cinema Sewer's Robin Bougie, these were not supplied for review.

Overall

Though I was less keen on Camille 2000 than on the other two films, I would highly recommend all of these releases, and watching them more or less back to back, as they chart the development of a man who seems to be a highly individual and interesting filmmaker, working in a field where most people would be content to turn out dross.

Camille 2000

★★★

The Lickerish Quartet / Score

★★★★

Blu Ray Review: Black Sunday [15]

The Film(s)

There are two cuts of Black Sunday on this new Blu Ray release; Mario Bava's Director's Cut, under his original title: The Mask of Satan, and the American release print (the version that has been most widely distributed) under the better known title Black Sunday.  As the former is Bava's own cut, I'll focus on that version for this review

The Mask of Satan was the directorial debut of a then 46 year old Bava, who had, up to this point, been a cameraman (a DP in fact, but he apparently disliked the term cinematographer, finding it pretentious) and had previously stepped in as director on several films when other filmmakers had left or been fired.  This was his reward for loyalty and good work, and Bava certainly makes good on the faith his producers put in him for this official directorial debut.

From its startling opening sequence, in which a witch (Barbara Steele) is punished by having a devilish mask lined with huge metal spikes nailed to - indeed through - her head, Mask of Satan is a stylistic tour de force from Bava, combining the more explicit gore allowed by the start of the 1960's with the gothic stylings of the classic Universal horror films of the 30's and 40's.

The bulk of the film takes place 200 years after the opening, two doctors (John Richardson and Andrea Checchi) on their way to a conference stumble across the witch's tomb and accidentally cause her to be reanimated.  They also meet a woman named Katja, who looks exactly like the witch and turns out to be a descendant.  The younger doctor falls for Katja, and ends up trying to protect her as the reanimated witch attempts to possess her body.

Bava's visuals are fantastic; his gliding camera and supreme control of light and shadow thanks to filming even 'exterior' scenes in a studio make for an intensely creepy and enveloping atmosphere that gives the whole film an otherworldly feel, which grows and grows as characters are possessed, killed, and as the witch comes closer to truly rising from her grave.

The film's gothic beauty is well matched by a smattering of grand guignol effects, especially an emphasis on eyes and trauma to them which seems to have permeated Italian horror in the years following this film (it's clear that Lucio Fulci owes Bava a debt in this respecy).  The effects are perhaps not quite up to modern prosthetic standards, but they seldom look hokey, and a few - a punctured eye in particular - remain really shocking.

Performances are hard to judge, due to the fact that, as was standard at the time in Italy, the film was made without sound, and dubbed later.  Certainly Barbara Steele's striking dark beauty is used well in the dual role of Katja and the witch and Andrea Checchi seems to be having fun, camping it up just enough as the older doctor.  John Richardson is square jawed and good looking enough, but doesn't seem to be an especially brilliant actor.

Ultimately though, The Mask of Satan is a film more about reveling in atmosphere, and Bava certainly achieves that.  Even more than fifty years on the film still chills and occasionally shocks, and most horror films struggle to do that fifty minutes in.

The AIP alternate cut, Black Sunday, is only minimally different.  Some music is changed, the dubbing is slightly different, and an opening crawl and voiceover are added.  Otherwise the only real difference comes in the reduced emphasis on some of the film's gorier moments.  The Mask of Satan is the superior cut in every way, but Black Sunday is still a great film, though it's really more of a curio on this release.

The Disc

Arrow Video have a well established and well deserved reputation for treating their DVD and Blu Ray releases with a great deal of care, and this release of Black Sunday should only serve to strengthen that reputation.  The black and white feature film looks absolutely outstanding; black levels are deep and dark, there are a great variety of shades of grey in the print, and texture is outstanding thanks to a robust grain structure that means the picture retains a filmic feeling, while remaining almost totally free of print issues.  Digitial artifacts, which can be a problem in films that make heavy use of smoke, as this one does, are also absent.  Overall, this is an outstanding transfer of a beautiful restoration, it really does justice to a great looking film.

Sound, at least through my stereo only TV, is clear, sharp and well balanced.

The Extras

As ever with Arrow releases the extras are plentiful.  You could count the AIP cut of the film as among the extras, but even if you don't there's another extra film; I Vampiri, the first Italian horror film of the sound era, which Bava completed after Ricardo Fredda left the production.

Mask of Satan gets a commentary from Bava expert Tim Lucas.  It's interesting in parts, but a little dry and heavy on 'here's what's happening in this scene' talk for my liking.  Also offering a little context is Alan Jones, who provides an optional introduction to the film.

Star Barbara Steele appears - still looking great - in a 1995 interview.  It's a bit short, but she's engaging and has some interesting things to relate, especially about the sets for Mask of Satan.  It is a shame, however, that Steele didn't participate in any new content for this release.

The film-specific content is rounded out with a rare deleted scene, which, like most deleted scenes, is inessential but interesting. The extras package is completed by a mass of trailers for this film and many, many of Bava's others.

Overall

This is another outstanding package from Arrow Video, who continue to treat horror films with a respect that most companies don't seem to think them worthy of, and which fans will revel in.  This is also a brilliant film, and the package is an essential addition to any horror fan's Blu Ray library.

Blu Ray Review: Zombie Flesh Eaters [18]

Dir: Lucio Fulci

The Film 

I have, perhaps oddly, a rather nostalgic fondness for Zombie Flesh Eaters.  My interest in horror films was sparked initially by my interest in censorship, and my desire to see movies that I wasn't supposed to see, and Zombie Flesh Eaters (albeit in a cut version which missed out some of the 'best' moments) was one of the first 'video nasties' I ever saw.  Though I've discovered more and better films by its director Lucio Fulci in the years since, I often come back to Zombie Flesh Eaters because it's a fun and undemanding gut muncher.

The story, such as it is, involves zombies, probably raised by voodoo, taking over a Carribbean island where Anne Bowles (Tisa Farrow) and Peter West, a reporter (Ian McCulloch) have journeyed to try to find her missing father.  They meet Dr Menard (Richard Johnson), who had been working to treat the zombie-causing illness with Anne's father.  Mayhem ensues.

Though titled Zombi 2 in Italy, to make it appear to be a sequel to George Romero's Dawn of the Dead (released there as Zombi), Lucio Fulci's first zombie film - he would make three more - strikes a very different tone from its notional model.  Fulci has little interest in using his zombies as metaphors, or in filling his narrative with commentary on ideas of race or consumerism, rather Fulci is a shamelessly, and rather joyfully, sensationalist filmmaker.  The script is more a loose series of scenes designed to knit together Fulci's set piece moments, and while I'm all for deep and multi-layered horror films, not everything in the genre needs to be cerebral.

The cast, a mix of American and English C-Listers and reliable but not hugely expensive international players acquit themselves as well as the dialogue and dubbing will allow.  Farrow and McCulloch have little chemistry, but the attraction the script shoehorns in is hardly key to the film, and they both do solid work, giving the credulity straining situations as much credibility as possible.  Richard Johnson, however, is in a different league; his sweaty browed scenery chomping is one of the film's great joys, and he strikes just the right tone as Dr Menard, even when chewing on some pretty awful lines.  Other players make an impact for different reasons.  You'd be hard pressed to say that either Olga Karlatos (as Menard's wife) or Auretta Gay (as one of a tourist couple that Anne and Peter hitch a boat ride with) give especially good performances, but they both make for stunning set decoration, and each have a part to play in some of the film's most memorable moments, even some of the zombies carve themselves into the memory, particularly the first one we see, played by the magnificently named Captain Haggerty.

The reason that Zombie Flesh Eaters works, the reason it's still compelling today, isn't really as much to do with the people in front of the camera as it is the people behind it.  At the time of the video nasties panic these films were seen as hack work; ugly films made by people with little talent and no standards - and to be fair some were - this isn't the case with Zombie Flesh Eaters.  Fulci trained with Fellini, and while they had wildly divergent careers and styles Fulci had honed a keen, sharp, and very identifiable directorial eye.  With DP Sergio Salvati providing a largely bright and soft lighting scheme that sets the film apart from many in the genre, Fulci wheels out trademarks like his extensive and impactful use of close ups on and his fondness for violence to eyes and sprinkles them through a series of varied set pieces.

The set pieces are just stunning, from a suspenseful opening to the closing zombie walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, but three really need discussing.  The famed Zombie V Shark sequence is as remarkable as it ever was.  It's brilliantly choreographed and shot, at times reminiscent of Creature From the Black Lagoon, and it looks amazingly dangerous, seemingly staged without a hint of fakery.  It's the sort of thing you could just never shoot now; the shark would be CG, and the sequence would lose all of its excitement.  There is also the graveyard scene, sometimes omitted between the breathless praise for the other set pieces, but perhaps the one that combines viscera and suspense most effectively.  There is an eerie slowness to Gianetto DeRossi's zombies as they rise from the ground, along with that creaking, tearing sound that is so unnatural, and that only makes it more shocking when the zombies swiftly attack.  Most striking though is the eye scene which, though famed for its visceral payoff, also has a stunning slow build as zombies try and break into Dr Menard's house to eat his wife (who, because this is an exploitation film, has just had a shower).  Almost as nightmarish as the amazing effect that ends the scene is the  build up, because even on a first watch you can be pretty sure where the scene is headed, and it makes the skin crawl.

Talking of effects, Gianetto DeRossi, who created the make up and gore effects, is really the star of the film.  Working with low tech tools like clay, he created some of the most disgustingly convincing zombies I've seen on screen.  The zombies were always my problem with Dawn of the Dead; they just looked like spray painted people.  The zombies here look dead, and as if they are rotting, bits being baked off them in the Caribbean sun.  There is also a strong variety in the zombie design, as well as some seriously painful looking blood and prosthetic effects (the aforementioned eye, a ripped out throat).  On occasion you can see the joins, but the film is such fun, and most of the effects work so spot on, that it's hard to mind very much.

I've no desire to get critically high-minded about this film; it's an entirely unpretentious feast of silliness and gore, and that's exactly the way I've always approached and enjoyed it.  Honestly, your reaction to the film will largely be dictated by your reaction to the title, if "Zombie Flesh Eaters" has you thinking there's a fun evening of horror in store then that's exactly what you'll get, if it makes you picture an idiotic waste of time then I'd imagine that's what you'll find, and if you're picturing a morally reprehensible 'Video Nasty', well, you'll probably find that here as well.  Me?  I'm just going to revel in the great photography and the fun, splashy, set pieces once more. 

The Picture and Sound

Arrow Video have earned a very good reputation for the care and attention they have shown to genre films that might not have previously received such lavish treatment.  Their restorations of Fulci's The Beyond and City of the Living Dead were both hugely impressive, but this presentation of Zombie Flesh Eaters absolutely blows them out of the water.  This is a spectacular restoration, revealing not only undreamed of detail, but shedding much more light on how brilliantly the film was photographed by Fulci and Sergio Salvati and how impressive the composition is.  The clarity does sometimes show a few of the joins in the effects, but it also shows the breathtaking detail and quality of the make up work.

The sound (though I can't comment on any surround use) is strong, with the impressive and haunting score (something sometimes undervalued in Italian exploitation films) coming through strongly, but never dominating above the dialogue.  I only listened to the English language track, because that has the real voices of at least the principal cast, but the original Italian dub is also available. 

The Extras

A generous package split across two Blu Ray discs.  On the main menu you'll get to choose from the three titles that Zombie Flesh Eaters went under.  The only difference is in which title sequence you see, the film itself is the same; a cute bonus, but not a terribly exciting one.  When you start the film (under whichever title) you'll also get a short intro from Ian McCulloch, who, as ever, seems surprised but happy that anyone remembers this movie.

The major video extra on disc one is an hour long documentary about the lineage of zombie movies, tracking from Night of the Living Dead, through Fulci's zombie quartet, and then to the many Italian films that cashed in on Zombie Flesh Eaters.  There's not much new here for genre fans, but the talking heads are intelligent, and the clips are fun. People just discovering these films would be well advised to watch it with a notebook handy to write down titles.

If you want to truly appreciate how good the film looks on this Blu Ray, have a look among the selection of Trailers at the trailer for the old Vipco release, which looks like third generation VHS.  The trailers are fun, but not something I would find myself watching much.  Also among the trailers are some brilliantly silly Radio Spots.

The major audio extras on the disc come in the form of two audio commentaries.  The first is with co-screenwriter Elisa Briganti and moderator Callum Waddell, it seems to have been recorded in a somewhat echoy room, which can be pretty grating, it's quite a general commentary for the most part, but Briganti is animated and Waddell gets some good, if not screen specific, stories from her.  It's worth a listen, but is really for fans more than casual viewers.  More essential is the second commentary, driven largely by Stephen Thrower, who literally wrote the book on Fulci (it's called Beyond Terror, and belongs in every horror fan's library).  Thrower is a fantastically engaging speaker, and here he's joined by Alan Jones; another encyclopedic authority on Italian horror films.  The two stick closer to what's on screen, but also talk around their subject about the Italian film industry and the larger careers of many of the people who worked on this film.  It's a very good track, and recommended to anyone with an interest in Fulci and his work.

The second disc of extras is led by a 46 minute interview with Ian McCulloch.  He tells a few familiar stories, but is as genial and informative as I found him in our chat.

Zombie Flesh Eaters: From Script to Screen is an utterly pointless feature in which [uncredited] screenwriter Dardano Sachetti show us the original draft of the screenplay.  Unfortunately we can't read any of it because the feature is not even 3 minutes long, is shot in wobblyvision, and largely consists of Sachetti flicking through the script.  If you're going to do a feature like this either make it an interview or put the original screenplay on the disc as a PDF.

A half hour Q and A with the film's composer Fabio Frizzi is a welcome and interesting addition, but it would probably benefit from optional subtitles, because the sound quality isn't brilliant, particularly on Frizzi's translator.  Still, it's very watchable and if you listen carefully you won't miss anything.  It's very nice to see Frizzi get his due on this disc; his soundtrack is one of the great things about the film.

Finally for the video extras The Meat Munching Movies of Gino DeRossi provides a 26 minute look at the work of Italy's own Baron of Blood.  Seeing inside his workshop is a real treat for a gorehound (the exploded head from The Beyond is still sitting on a shelf, and still looks amazing) and DeRossi comes across as personable, dedicated and hugely fond of his work.  He's also got a lot of interesting recollections about the films he's worked on.  Arrow need to get him to do a commentary one of these days.

The extras are rounded off by a booklet, which sounds very exciting, but was not made available for review.

Verdict

One of the essential releases of 2012 for horror fans; a classic film, with a stunning transfer, backed up by extensive and mostly intriguing extras.

The Film: ★★★★★ 

The Disc: ★★★★★

Blu Ray Review: Ninja Scroll [18]

Dir: Yoshiaki Kawajiri

The Film

Though I've now seen a decent amount, and even have a few favourite directors within the form, anime is still a style of filmmaking that I feel a bit under-educated in.  Ninja Scroll is one of the anime films I remember seeing around in shops (but not actually seeing) when I was growing up, along with other now well established classics of the form like Akira and Ghost in the Shell.  Like other Asian films released here at that time, Ninja Scroll exerted something of a fascination for me that was less to do with the film itself than the dynamic and lurid cover art.

The film itself tells a story that is both simple and convoluted.  Essentially, an itinerant ninja named Kibagami Jubei (voice of Koichi Yamadera) finds himself swept up in a battle against eight demonic ninjas after he interrupts one of their number while he is raping a female ninja named Kagero (Emi Shinohara).  Ultimately, bribed by the mysterious Dakuan (Takeshi Aono), Jubei and Kagero team up to take on the leader of the eight demonic ninjas; Jubei's old enemy Gemma (Daisuke Gori).

The story is ultimately tangential to the main point of the film, which is really - certainly from a Western perspective where most audiences, myself included, won't know much about the series of ninja novels or the Japanese folk hero to which the film is apparently paying tribute - the frequently spectacular animated violence.  The action sequences come thick and fast, and probably account for about half of the film's pacy 94 minutes.  There's a decent variety of action too, with the different powers of each of the eight demons presenting different challenges to Jubei and Kagero, and a few leaning harder on horror than action.

Perhaps the best sustained sequence in the film is the one involving the fight against the first demon; the rock skinned Tessai, who slaughters Kagero's fellow ninjas in an extravagantly bloody and brilliantly dynamic action scene, before attempting to rape Kagero in a moment that is skin-crawlingly unpleasant.  Few of the other monsters get as much screen time as Tessai, and so their deaths don't feel quite as impactful, but again, that's not really the point. 

The animation style is interesting.  The character design is less cartoony than some anime, giving the film a slightly grittier feel that matches its sometimes brutal violence, but beyond that there's a slightly odd stylistic mix.  Much of the animation is slick and fluid, the action punchy and violent, but there are also times when the action moves in layers, like viewmaster pictures sliding over each other.  It's a different kind of motion, and it certainly gives a sense of pace to some of the scenes it's used in, but sometimes it feels like a shortcut to me; a way to finish sequences without quite fully animating them, it does give the film a distinctive, but I'm not the biggest fan of the technique.

All of the best elements of the film are visual; the use of colour - blue in the rape scene, red in a key fight scene - is distinctive and lends an individual visual identity to the film and the action sequences are relentlessly entertaining, but sometimes what surrounds them is less impressive, even on occasion coming close to being offensive.  The way the film depicts Kagero is almost schizophrenic; she's clearly a strong woman, but in one scene she's raped and there's a deeply uncomfortable moment in which she offers herself to Jubei.  It's not the proudly hateful stuff of some hentai, but it does undermine the character by making her than little more a sexual object in a couple of her most important scenes.  It doesn't entirely undermine the film though, because much of the rest of the time Kaegro is the strongest and most interesting character in the film; more complex than the rather inscrutable Jubei, and she is allowed to be seen as an asset as a fighter.

The script clunks whether you're listening to the dub or reading the subtitles, but the film moves at a fast pace, and never slows down long enough to be boring.  It might be nice to have developed Jubei and Kaegro's relationship a little more fully, as it would give the final sequences more than just visceral punch, but this film is what it is, and as a series of stylised animated punch ups, some suspect sexual politics aside, it does the blood soaked job more than acceptably.  I'm not sure, 20 years on, it's quite the classic that some of its near contemporaries stand as, but it's good fun.

The Picture and Sound

The HD picture (presented uncut in 4:3, which is the correct ratio) is probably as good as Ninja Scroll has ever looked, and likely as good as it will ever look.  The detail is good, and the colours seem true to how it was intended to look, but it doesn't quite have that incredible 'pop' that much animation (and especially anime) usually has on Blu Ray - among anime of a similar vintage I thought Whisper of the Heart looked better in HD - but this may also be partly down to the film's overwhelming visual darkness, which is well represented with solid black levels.

There are two soundtrack choices here; a Japanese track and the English dub.  Animation is the only form I'd ever consider watching a dub for, because the voices are somewhat removed from the characters by the technique anyway, but the Japanese track was my first choice because it's the original.  The subtitles are functional, easy to read, not too intrusive, and pretty close to the English dub dialogue.  All in all it probably doesn't much matter which soundtrack you choose, both sound good, the performances are at about the same pitch in both, and the subtitles don't improve the dialogue at all. 

The Extras

The steelbook edition, which contains both Blu Ray and DVD copies of the film, also comes with a 20 page booklet, unfortunately, this was not supplied for review.  

On disc extras are slim but satisfying.  The original trailer and TV spot are present (in slightly faded SD, which makes the transfer of the film look more impressive), and there is a commentary with director Yoshiaki Kawajiri, character designer Yutaka Minowa and moderator Hiroyuki Ohnuma.  It would have been a real bonus if the subtitles had, at least to begin with, identified who was speaking at any given time, because the speakers don't, and their voice sound quite similar to an ear untrained in Japanese.  That said it's an interesting track, there's discussion of cel animation, of the film's visuals and some jokey acknowledgement of some of its more unnecessary (their word) nastier content.  For fans of the film this will be a real treat. 

Verdict

On the whole this is a strong release of an entertaining movie, if not one that I'm as big a fan of as some anime lovers seem to be.  Ninja Scroll is still a fun watch, and interesting because of its place in helping introduce anime to more Western audiences, if you like anime it's a key text, but it's perhaps not where I'd advise people to start.

★★★

Blu Ray Review: Double Indemnity / The Lost Weekend

Masters of Cinema are releasing two Billy Wilder films on June 25th. I'll be tackling both in one review because otherwise I might end up repeating myself rather a lot.

The Films

Double Indemnity was only Billy Wilder's third film as a director, but you'd never know. It not only defined the film noir style for all time (its influence on both classic and neo-noir is inescapable), but it also remains probably the best film made in either era of noir.

Based on a novella by James M. Cain, and with a perfectly hard-boiled screenplay by Wilder and Raymond Chandler, Double Indemnity is narrated, in the form of a confession, by insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), who relates how he fell under the spell of Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) and was seduced into a plot to kill her husband and claim the insurance on his life. His summation: "Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money - and a woman - and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it?" could easily double as a summation of noir itself.

Double Indemnity is one of those rare films that functions like a perfect machine; every cog working in unison to make something that does its job flawlessly. There are so many elements here that come together perfectly. In many ways, as director and co-writer, Billy Wilder is the star. The screenplay that he and Chandler penned is exceptional, shot through with dark, dry wit, and dancing around the sex and murder implicit in the film with linguistic creativity and glee the likes of which we seldom see. Wilder also had a great collaborator in the visual aspects of the film; cinematographer John F Seitz (who had a track record stretching back to the silent era). Seitz' lighting here is a masterpiece in and of itself, with bars of shadow frequently entrapping MacMurray, and pitch blacks contributing to an increasingly foreboding atmosphere. For his part, Wilder's camerawork is clever and compelling in its patience. Frequently he lets a simple shot hold, and uses that to make the audience tense in their seats. For instance there's the brilliant scene of Stanwyck hiding behind a door, desperate that Edward G. Robinson (who plays MacMurray's suspicious boss) not see her, or the simplicity with which Wilder handles the murder; holding on Stanwyck's face as it happens just next to her, out of shot.

But the praise that has to be accorded to Wilder shouldn't detract from his three leading players. Barbara Stanwyck was one of the best actresses cinema ever had, effortlessly compelling whether she was in a drama like The Bitter Tea of General Yen, a romantic comedy like The Lady Eve or a screwball farce like Ball of Fire (also co-written by Wilder), but Phyllis Dietrichson may be her greatest role and her best performance. Stanwyck was already in her mid thirties by the time of Double Indemnity and she was never Hollywood's most obvious beauty (a cheap blonde wig certainly didn't help), but she's still devastatingly sexy. The minute she appears at the top of a flight of stairs, wrapped in a towel and wearing "a honey of an anklet" you understand how MacMurray has ended up where we find him at the start of the film. Stanwyck also has the Fatale part of the Femme Fatale equation down perfectly; there's an edge to everything she says, and an ever present glint in her eye that should set alarm bells ringing with DO NOT TRUST.

The chemistry between MacMurray and Stanwyck is fantastic, and the two bounce off each other in some of the most memorable dialogue scenes in 40's cinema. Wilder was best known as a comic wirter, but here his dialogue with Chandler is a perfect mix of the poetic "How could I have known that murder could sometimes smell like honeysuckle?", the suggestive "There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour..." and the darkly funny "...Guess I was wrong. You're not smarter, Walter... you're just a little taller." MacMurray, best known at this time, and subsequently, as a star of family films, is perfect as Neff, that outward assurance and bravado to Phyllis is all the more effective for he way he allows us to see the nerves simmering just below it. The third spoke in the wheel is Edward G. Robinson, whose delivery of the many speeches about the 'little man' telling him that there's something wrong with the Dietrichson claim ratchet up the tension, while he also emphasises the closeness between Neff and his boss to strong effect.

Double Indemnity is as tense, as smart, as thrilling and as beautiful now as it ever was, if you haven't seen it there really is no excuse.

The Lost Weekend was the film that Billy Wilder made immediately following Double Indemnity, and while it's adapted from a novel it may also have been inspired by Wilder's difficult and fractious relationship with Raymond Chandler, who was, like this film's main character, an alcoholic writer.

Ray Milland plays author Don Birnam, he's supposed to be going away for the weekend with his brother Wick (Philip Terry), so that he can make sure Don doesn't go back to drinking (it's been 10 days since his latest 'cure'). Instead Don sends his girlfriend (Jane Wyman) and Wick to the theatre, while he goes off to his favourite bar. Wick leaves without him, and over the weekend Don spirals ever further into alcoholism.

The Lost Weekend is one of, if not the first Hollywood film to really tackle the subject of alcoholism in a serious manner, and that's where it really excels. The scenes themselves have become somewhat cliché as every other film about addiction has worked through the same beats over the last 67 years, but Wilder and especially Ray Milland bring them vividly to life. Milland is outstanding as Birnam, making the vicious circle of his drinking - he drinks because he can't write, and can't write because he drinks - relateable as well as devastating. We see just enough of the charming guy Don might be that we can root for him to recover, and empathise as he becomes ever more pathetic and helpless (even begging money from fellow barfly Doris Dowling). While the acting style of the time was broader than it is now, Milland doesn't overplay the drunkenness (compare this performance to Tom Cruise's hilariously dreadful drunk scene in Jerry Maguire, for example), giving us a picture of a man who doesn't drink for fun or even for the effect, but just because he needs to.

Wilder brings DP John F Seitz and all the visual style he learnt on Double Indemnity back here. Indeed, thanks to the design of the shots and the the lighting, you could say that The Lost Weekend is a film noir in which Whisky is the femme fatale (look at the shot when Milland finally sees a shadow, and remembers he hid a bottle in the light hanging from his ceiling, or the increasing use of shadow as he becomes more and more enclosed in his apartment and his addiction). Seitz and Wilder paint with shadow to wonderful effect, emphasising the dark influence of the bottle on Milland's life.

There are things that don't work though, chiefly the flashbacks, and particularly Jane Wyman's part as Milland's girlfriend. Ultimately, Helen is just a misconcieved character, there are few scenes where you really feel that she needs to be there, and even in the flashback scenes the relationship carries very little weight. Wick is a better character, and Pilip Terry has a good scene when he pretends to Helen that it's he who is the drinker in the family, but he's off screen too much for there to be much weight to the relationship with Milland, and Terry's hardly the most charismatic of actors, especially next to Milland.

There are outstanding sequences here; Milland's desperate trawl through the city trying to pawn his typewriter comes to mind, as does the DTs sequence, which brings a B Horror edge to the film for a few minute. On the whole though the film is a little inconsistent; a minor Wilder, but still, calling something a minor Wilder is hardly an indictment, and The Lost Weekend is often compelling, with Milland's performance alone making it a must see.

The Discs

Masters of Cinema have a well earned reputation for discs with beautiful transfers, and these are no exception. The Lost Weekend looks great, with deep blacks and subtle shades of grey in the black and white photography. The grain is pretty heavy, but very natural, and helps bring out a lot of detail in the picture while giving it a film like look. The print isn't quite perfect, but you'll barely notice.

The print for Double Indemnity, however, is perfect. The Blu Ray is stunningly beautiful, and unless you saw it on its original release (perhaps even then), it should make the experience like seeing the film for the first time again. The blacks are pitch dark, the (few) whites spotless and everything in between is beautifully and subtly scaled. The transfer is awash with fine detail, and does wonders for Seitz' photography.

The soundtracks are pretty simple, both largely dialogue driven, and the stereo tracks do a fine job; they're well balanced and loud enough to be an easy listen.

The Extras

The Double Indemnity disc has a featurette on the making and the legacy of the film. It runs for almost 40 minutes and is entertaining, though the lack of any comment from anyone who was there (even in archive footage) is a shame, though the assembled critics, writers and filmmakers do a nice job telling the story. There is also an audio bonus; the full radio broadcast version of Double Indemnity, with MacMurray and Stanwyck reprising their roles. I love these things, they're fascinating alternate versions of films we know and love, and something that just doesn't exist today. It's a great listen. Wrapping up the on disc supplements is a commentary with screenwriter Lem Dobbs and film historian Nick Redmond. It's a very good track, avoiding much of the dry film theory that can afflict tracks like this and Dobbs and Redmond make a good team.

The Lost Weekend has a six minute introduction from Alex Cox, which is a sincere appreciation, and Cox is a good host, but the real gold here (and of all the extras on these releases) is a three part, three hour, conversation between Billy Wilder and fellow German filmmaker Volker Schlondorff called Billy, How Did You Do It? It's an utter joy to see the 85 year old Wilder still so animated and enthused talking about his and other people's movies, and probably worth buying the disc for all by itself. There is also a radio production starring Milland, which is very similar in style to that for Double Indemnity, and is also well worth a listen.

Both discs also feature the original trailers for the film, and, like all MOC releases, a booklet packed with fascinating articles on the films. The Double Indemnity booklet includes a short answer from James M. Cain, relating how Billy Wilder did things with the film that he wished he had thought of for the book, while the Lost Weekend booklet has a comparison of the DTs scene in book, scrrenplay and film forms, and each boasts much more intensely interesting material besides, along with some well chosen and reproduced pictures.

Overall

These are essential discs for any serious fan of classic cinema. The films are of varying stature, but each is packed with brilliant extras that both intrigue and entertain, and the films themselves look incredible, even if you've seen each of them over and over it will be like watching them for the first time again.

If you'd like to buy these discs please use the links below, it won't cost you anything extra, but you'll be helping out 24FPS. Thanks.