BY DARREN ALLISON

(This review pertains to a region 2 UK release). 

Mark Robson’s Valley of the Dolls (1967) became something of commercial success, despite being generally panned by the critics. Following the murder of Sharon Tate, the film was re-released in 1969 and once again proved to be a success with audiences. In December 1969, filming began on Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970), a film that was intended as a direct sequel to Robson’s movie. Jacqueline Susann, the original author of Valley of the Dolls had been approached to write a screenplay, but declined the offer. Instead, director Russ Meyer and film critic Roger Ebert, took on and completed the task in just six weeks. Ebert described it as ‘a satire of Hollywood conventions’ while Meyer leant more towards ‘a serious melodrama, a rock musical […]and a moralistic expose of the nightmarish world of Show Business’.

This film is set around a female band, The Kelly Affair featuring Kelly MacNamara (Dolly Read), Casey Anderson (Cynthia Myers), and Petronella "Pet" Danforth (Marcia McBroom). Along with their manager (and Kelly’s boyfriend) Harris Allsworth (David Gurian) the group set off to Los Angeles to find Kelly's estranged aunt, Susan Lake (Phyllis Davis), who is heiress to a family fortune.

Kelly and her band arrive and are greeted fondly by Susan who informs her that she will be left a portion of her inheritance. However, Porter Hall (Duncan McLeod) a financial adviser to Susan, attempts to discredit the band as general degenerates in order to embezzle the money for himself. Aunt Susan meanwhile introduces Kelly and the band to a connected producer Ronnie "Z-Man" Barzell (John LaZar). At one of his flamboyant parties, Z-Man wastes little time in persuading the band to perform, the result of which is a huge success. Z-Man becomes the group’s manager and changes their name to The Carrie Nations which ignites the fuse and causes a series of clashes with Harris.

All of these elements nicely combine to set up a classic and well-rounded piece of melodrama. Add to the mix a healthy dash of seduction, drugs, alcohol, one-night stands, a lesbian affair, an abortion and a delicious little twist or two and you’ll discover there’s more than enough meat on the bone for a fulfilling and thoroughly magical couple of hours.

Arrow have put together a really thoughtful and beautifully presented limited (3000 copies) edition containing two of Russ Meyer’s key Hollywood films. The Blu-ray (1080p) presentation of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is quite wonderful. The vibrancy of the film’s colour palette shines through in practically every scene and is only emphasised by the lush surroundings of the late Sixties hippy culture. Skin tones (and there’s a lot of it on show) look fresh, but perfectly natural and free of any forced enhancement. The film retains that comic book colour freshness that one could perhaps align with in any classic episode of TVs Batman. Yes, it very hip and very cool. Arrow has also provided an array of supplementary delights especially in terms of audio options. Aside from the film’s original uncompressed mono track, there is an engrossing commentary track by co-screenwriter and film critic, the late Roger Ebert. Ebert’s commentary is a wonderful listen, a man who knew his stuff and was of course an element of the film’s DNA. Whist the commentary was initially featured on Fox’s DVD release of 2006; it’s a real treat to have it included here on the Blu-ray. Also featured is a second audio commentary, courtesy of cast members including Erica Gavin, John LaZar, Cynthia Myers, Harrison Page and Dolly Read. Again, this commentary also appeared previously on the Fox DVD, and while it is rather less streamlined than Ebert’s specifics, it does offer an entirely different perspective. The two commentaries ultimately complement each other rather well. On top of the two commentaries is a further music and effects track, which I believe marks a first for this title on any home cinema format. It’s a very welcome track, considering the popularity of music and for consumers who might not have the soundtrack among their collections.

At this point it is perhaps best to shift focus towards Arrow’s second disc in this set, and the film The Seven Minutes (1971). This Russ Meyer directed film was made directly after Beyond the Valley of the Dolls and was his last mainstream production for Twentieth-Century Fox. The film consists mainly of his stable of regular actors and actresses, but look out, too, for appearances by Yvonne De Carlo and a very young Tom Selleck. Overall, the film was considered as a rare commercial failure for Meyer, but it’s very welcome here as a bonus disc. Sadly, it is only included in standard DVD format.

Returning to Arrow’s other bonus material; there is an optional introduction by Z-Man himself, John LaZa. Much more entertaining is: Above, beneath and beyond the Valley: The Making of a Musical-Horror-Sex-Comedy, which is a fascinating retrospective documentary (30 minutes). Look On Up at the Bottom, with composer Stu Phillips and three members of the Carrie Nations discussing the film’s music. It’s a nice little featurette which manages to cram a lot into its relatively short time (11 minutes). The Best of Beyond features favourite moments from the film selected by cast and crew members (12 minutes). Sex, Drugs, Music & Murder: Signs of the time, baby takes a look at the late 1960s social culture that spawned Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (8 minutes). Casey & Roxanne: The Love Scene is a nice short featuring both participants Erica Gavin and Cynthia Myers who discuss the film’s lesbian scene (5 minutes). There is also a very nice collection of screen tests for Michael Blodgett, Cynthia Myers, Harrison Page and Marcia McBroom, all of which are presented in relatively nice condition (8 minutes). Also included is a selection of trailers, one of which is based on a behind-the-scenes photo shoot with Meyer taking the publicity photos and provides a great ‘sneak peek’ privilege. Finally there is a high definition photo gallery which consists of approximately 125 images.

Arrow’s packaging is of their usual (and exceptional) high standard. Inside contains an informative and nicely illustrated 42 page booklet featuring new writing on the film by critic Kat Ellinger. I was also very happy to see Arrow’s regular reversible sleeve format containing two original pieces of ‘Beyond’ film art, rather than an optional piece of ‘new’ art. It’s an option that will arguably please the purists among film collectors.

It was fabulous to revisit what is perhaps Meyer’s most polished piece of work. Yes, there’s no denying it, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is trashy, dirty and totally unscrupulous… and exactly why I find it so lip-smacking good. Everything considered, it’s probably the best piece of exploitation ever committed to film. So miss this wonderful cult classic at your peril…

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By Hank Reineke

Though the 1966 space-age vampire flick Queen of Blood is not new to home video, it has been one of the more elusive science-fiction titles of the 1960s. Issued on VHS as Planet of Blood back in the early 1980s on the budget “Star Classics” label and later in 1990 on a much improved laser disc from Image (paired with Mario Bava’s similarly-themed Planet of the Vampires), Queen of Blood has been mostly unavailable to collectors for nearly twenty-five years. In March 2011 MGM finally re-issued the title as part of its Limited Edition Collection, but only as a made-on-demand release. In 2015, Kino Lorber has – very happily for genre fans and collectors - rescued this title from the wasteland of cult-film marginalia with their superb Blu-Ray release of this Roger Corman-Curtis Harrington classic.

Queen of Blood (for reasons we’ll get into a little later on) more resembles a 1950s sci-fi B-film than one from a decade on. Astronauts Allan Brenner (John Saxon) and Laura James (Judi Meredith) are co-workers at the International Institute of Space Technology. The agency is developing plans to send a spacecraft to Mars and Venus but James’ works seems terribly mundane: she sits in the radio room diligently monitoring the stream of white-noise signals emanating from outer-space. Listening for endless hours at this “music of the spheres” (as Brenner describes the monotonous stream), James might be doing important work; but it doesn’t seem – at first – that she enjoys a particularly exciting forty-hour work week. That is not until the radio she monitors starts picking up an unusual transmission.

Expert cryptographists and cipher analysts are brought in and quickly decipher the spectral message from the cosmos. They’re excited to learn that seemingly friendly and curious ambassadors from an un-specified planet are en route to visit planet earth. The scientists are obviously thrilled by the prospect, and one can appreciate the excitement of the world-renown Dr. Farraday (Basil Rathbone) as he triumphantly crows via a loudspeaker that the greatest of historical summits is imminent. But the euphoria on campus is short-lived. The planned meeting seems to take an unpredicted turn for the worse when a second message is received. It seems the alien’s spacecraft has crash-landed on a Martian moon and its surviving single occupant asks that a space craft be dispatched to collect. This is where, of course, the trouble begins.

A rescue mission is arranged, with Brenner, James, Paul Grant (Dennis Hopper) and Dr. Anders Brockman (Robert Boon) in tow. The alien spacecraft has crashed on the Martian moon of Phobos and it’s there that the crew will have their first face-to-face meeting with the titular Queen of Blood (Florence Marley). With her green skin, crimson red lips, and mod bee-hive hair-do (initially hidden by the rugby-ball shaped leather helmet she wears), it must be said that the visitor cuts a startling figure. Brockman suggests the space-ambassador’s green-tint is likely due to the presence of chlorophyll in her genetic make-up, that the emissary’s DNA might be more akin to that of a plant.  If the Queen is a sophisticated plant, as the astronaut opines, it’s safe to say she’s more Venus fly-trap than sunflower. 

Paul’s gentle entreaties to the alien are both warm and genuine.  He tries to get her to sip some water but her disingenuous eyes are mistaken as windows of affection.  In reality, the Queen is not displaying any romantic interest in Paul (as embodied by the still strikingly young Dennis Hopper).  She is, in fact, sizing up the naive astronaut as a possible future meal.  We soon learn the reason the Queen has not partaken in any of the previous meals offered; she’s more intent on feeding on the warm blood of the crew.  There haven’t been any screams in the night to alert them to the menace. The Queen first hypnotizes her intended prey and then, much like a vampire bat, uses her saliva to serve as a numbing agent, dulling the pain of the incisors as they stab into her victim.  Once wise to the treachery, the astronauts – still determined to bring her back to earth as the scientific find of the ages – feeds her the ship’s store of blood plasma.  This works out OK until that limited supply is exhausted and they’re still far from earth.

The back-story to this film is nearly as interesting as the film itself. The imaginative and extraterrestrial scenes were Soviet in origin, the outer-space sequences shot entirely at the Odessa film studios in the Ukraine, just off the shoreline of the Black Sea. The space-footage featured in Queen of Blood had been primarily sourced from the 1963 Soviet film Mechte Navstrechu (“A Dream Come True”) (1963), directed by Mikhail Karzhukov and Otar Koberidze. In what would prove to be the first salvo of the C.C.C.P. vs. U.S. space-race, the Soviet Union would launch Sputnik in October of 1957. It was the first successful satellite launch in world history and Soviet filmmakers were encouraged to celebrate this glowing achievement of socialism with Eastern bloc neighbors in the form of cinematic paeans. The multitude of imaginative space-age film tapestries created in the wake of the Sputnik launch were truly impressive; the Soviet depictions of space-ways were majestically conceived presentations combining vibrant colors, eerie Martian landscapes, rotating spherical objects, state-of-the-art visual effects, and futuristic set decoration.

Roger Corman happened upon seeing several of these magnificent space-epics in a cinema in east Hollywood. Thrilled by the sophistication of the on-screen imagery, Corman would travel to the Soviet Union and arrange licensing rights for a package of Soviet sci-fi films through Mosfilm, the official-organ of the state-run motion-picture industry. Corman wasn’t interested in releasing the films in the U.S. in their original – and very political - forms. He recognized the Soviet films were littered with heavy-handed doses of anti-Americanism and thinly disguised metaphorical proselytisms of socialist-internationalism. Corman was primarily interested in re-cutting and re-dubbing the Soviet films for consumption by a decidedly non-ideological U.S. audience. Queen of Blood would not be Corman’s first experiment with such re-constitution. Two of his earliest efforts in re-dubbing and incorporating new footage to westernize his package of Russian sci-fi films were Voyage to the Prehistoric Planet (1965) and Battle Beyond the Sun (1962).

In the case of Mechte Navstrechu, a film mostly plundered for use in Queen of Blood, its rosy scenario of peaceful co-existence between the planets was not commercially viable. Instead Corman envisioned the film as a space-age version of a “traditional gothic vampire story.” As he was busy working on other projects, Corman arranged for director Curtis Harrington to shoot new scenes with an American and British cast and then seamlessly blend these segments into the existing Russian space-footage. In one of the supplements, Corman mildly boasts that many scholars have mused that the low-budget Queen of Blood might have very well been the template for the big-budget box-office smash Alien (1979). This is at least partly true, but Queen of Blood itself was largely a re-working of the It! The Terror from Beyond Space” (1958). Sci-fi and horror film buffs will also detect the not-so-subtle allusions to the famous Twilight Zone episode “To Serve Man” (broadcast March 2, 1962) as well as Mario Bava’s Planet of the Vampires (1965).

Having already made a considerable investment in his licensing of the Soviet films, executive producer Corman was rather stingy with the financing of its American cousin. Harrington was only apportioned somewhere in the region of $40,000 to $65,000 – depending on what source you’re to believe - to re-constitute the original Soviet production into a commercial commodity. Though John Saxon had earned a reputation for professionalism as an actor – he already had two-dozen or so films to his credit - his star had not yet completely risen. Seventy-three year-old Basil Rathbone was brought in for a day’s work to augment the bill as the seasoned actor enjoyed name recognition amongst genre fans. 

There’s no trouble identifying the Harrington-shot footage from the original Soviet - and this is not a knock against his direction.  To keep production costs down the U.S. control-room sets had been, very clearly, constructed from wood elements purposefully painted silver as to project a metallic sheen. As seamless merging of the original film with new footage was paramount to the film’s success, a great amount of attention – and budget - was given to the art department to authentically mimic the design of the original space-suits and helmets worn by cosmonauts in the original film.

Regardless of such penny-pinching shortfalls, Queen of Blood is one of the more eerie space-films of the era.  This is mostly due to Harrington’s ingenious use of shadowy silhouettes as an inexpensive but effective method to convey tension and suspense. Most of the memorable on-screen gloominess of Queen of Blood is the result of the unblinking, emotionless eyes of Czech actress Florence Marley.  It was a masterstroke not to give Marley’s green-tinted alien any dialogue – it would have surely diluted the effect of her menacing countenance.  Watching her cold eyes follow the doomed crew-members aboard the spacecraft with a cold, reptilian-like disengagement is positively chilling. 

This Kino Lorber Blu-Ray release features the film as 1080p high-definition widescreen (1:85:1) transfer. Supplements include an interview with Roger Corman, who provides his never-less-than usual amiable but cogent overview of things, including a reminiscence of when first introduced to the Soviet science-fiction films in a theater in east Hollywood. The nitty-gritty of the Queen of Blood production is more thoroughly examined in a second interview, this time featuring the commentary of with Oscar-winning visual effects specialist Robert Skotak. Skotak is as much historian as artist (he’s the author of “IB Melchior: Man of Imagination” (Midnight Marquee Press), and muses knowledgably and at some length on all aspects of this great “B”-film. The original theatrical trailer of Queen of Blood rounds out the special features.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

The Warner Archive has delved into its vaults to release some WWII-era American propaganda films. One of the more interesting titles is "Hitler's Madman", a 1943 exploitation piece directed by Douglas Sirk, who would go on to become an esteemed filmmaker whose work is still revered today. The movie was made on shoestring by an independent production company and was considered marketable enough for MGM to make a rare acquisition of a film made outside of the studio's control. The "quickie" nature of the production was designed to capitalize on one of the most horrendous war crimes in history: the systematic destruction of an entire village, Lidice, in Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia. The film centers on the ordeal  suffered by the peasant population of the village when Nazi rule becomes increasingly more oppressive under the command of "Reich Protector" Reinhard Heydrich, a Hitler favorite because of his unquestioning loyalty to National Socialist dogma. Even by Nazi standards Heydrich was considered a brute and was feared by both the people of Czechoslovakia and Germans who interacted with him. Heydrich was a man without conscience who believed in suppressing dissent by use of ruthless methods. He is played very well in the film by John Carradine, whose dyed blonde hair renders him virtually unrecognizable. Its doubtful that the real Heydrich engaged in the kind of Prof. Moriarty dialogue and mannerisms that characterized so many cinematic villains of the period, but Carradine does manage to evoke some truly sinister and creepy forms of behavior, all the time exuding a pretentious charm that makes those on the receiving end of his icy stare realize they might well be doomed. 

The script personalizes the ordeal of the people of Lidice by following the story of Jarmilla Hanka (Patricia Morrison), a young woman who is shocked to discover that her former boy friend Karel Vavra (Alan Curtis) has secretly arrived back in town on a mission for the Allies to organize the locals into an underground movement to disrupt Nazi activities. He gets a less-than-enthusiastic welcome by the men of the village who are understandably reluctant to give Heydrich an excuse to unleash a widespread crackdown on the population. Jarmilla's own father Jan (Ralph Morgan) is an advocate for conformity and warns against the consequences of opposing the Nazis. However, Heydrich and his goons ratchet up the pressure by arresting and executing professors and other intellectuals, then forcing the male students to "volunteer" for service on the Eastern front. Adding insult to injury, he announces that girls between the ages of 16-19 will be forced into bordellos to pleasure the stressed out German troops. in one of the film's most daring and unnerving scenes, Heydrich has the young women line up in a perverted version of a beauty pageant as he personally decides which girls have the necessary "qualities" for this degrading assignment. In fact the film abounds with sequences that are shocking in their implications. It was pretty strong stuff for 1943. However, there is a good deal of Hollywood hokum attached as well as the expected distortion of historical events. It is true that Heydrich was assassinated  and, in revenge, Hitler ordered every male in Lidice to be shot; every adult woman sent to a concentration camp and all young children sent to state-run orphanages. He then ordered that the entire village be razed to the ground and that any historic or geographical reference to its existence be eliminated. The film attributes Heydrich's murder to Jamrilla and her father who assassinate him on a country road. This is pure baloney. Heydrich was actually mortally wounded by a team of highly trained commandos who carried out the deed as Heydrich's car drove through the streets of Prague. Historical liberties aren't the only problem with the film. The acting tends to be of the "over-the-top" variety that was frequent in Poverty Row productions of the era. Not helping matters is the distraction of having some actors utilize exotic European accents while others sound like they are from New Jersey. This "Tower of Babble" effect undercuts the dramatic aspects of the performances. However, the film retains much of its power in the jarring sequences of Nazi oppression and the human toll it took on the population of the lands areas they occupied. There is also the considerable presence of John Carradine, whose performance transcends some of the weaker aspects of the production. Director Sirk also rises above the material and, given the minimal clout he must have had at this point in his career, manages to make a "B" exploitation flick into something more meaningful.

The Warner Archive  region-free DVD looks fine but contains no extras.  

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

If you never heard of the controversial 1982 futuristic thriller "Turkey Shoot" it may be because the film's release was largely botched especially in the United States where Roger Corman picked up distribution rights and re-titled the movie "Escape 2000" (despite the fact that the story is set in the year 1995!). The film's troubled production history is graphically outlined in the impressive Blu-ray special edition from Severin Films. But first let's examine the premise. "Turkey Shoot" is among the countless forerunners of "The Hunger Games" in that it uses the time-honored concept of presenting helpless humans as prey in sadistic "sporting" contests. From "The Most Deadly Game" to Cornel Wilde's superb "The Naked Prey", the concept seems to be a favorite for screenwriters and directors.  "Turkey Shoot" started as a promising venture for director Brian Trenchard-Smith. His two leading actors, Steve Railsback (who had recently made a splash in the acclaimed film "The Stunt Man") and Olivia Hussey (of "Romeo and Juliet" fame) were enthused about the premise. The film presents them in a futuristic society in an unnamed country where totalitarianism is prevalent. (How come we never see an optimistic view of a futuristic society?) Railsback is Paul Anders, an admitted dissident against the police state who is busted when he makes repeated radio broadcasts denouncing the government. Hussey is Chris Walters, an apolitical young woman who gets arrested when she tries to aid someone who is being brutalized by the state security forces. The two find themselves whisked to a "re-education" camp in a remote jungle setting. The place is actually a concentration camp run by a sadist named Thatcher (Michael Craig, whose character's name is a not so subtle rebuke of the British prime minister of the era. In fact, in some countries the film was released with the alternate title "Blood Camp Thatcher"). Anders continues to defy authority and Thatcher delights in torturing him. Chris tries to keep a low profile but it isn't long before the predatory guards headed by Chief Ritter (Roger Ward) have targeted her and other young women for chronic sexual abuse. The nightmarish situation only becomes worse when Paul, Chris and two other inmates- Rita Daniels (Lynda Stoner) and Griff (Bill Young)- are chosen to be prey in a high stakes game of life or death. The four prisoners are sent unarmed into the wilds with a bit of a head start before Thatcher and some elitist cronies begin hunting them with hi-tech weaponry as well as a crossbow, wielded with deadly skill by Jennifer (Carmen Duncan), a vivacious but particularly cruel woman with lesbian tendencies who has some distasteful plans for Rita, to whom she is sexually attracted. It takes quite some time to get to the main theme of the film which is the "turkey shoot" of the hapless prey, all of whom delight the hunters by proving to be especially inventive in their methods of staying alive. The victims also prove to be masters of turning the tables on their pursuers and killing several of them. Things tend to get very bizarre when, out of the blue and without explanation, a half-man, half-beast creature is unleashed by the hunters to help track down the exhausted fugitives. It's like someone inserted some outtakes from the 1977 version of "The Island of Dr. Moreau" into the movie. Along the way viewers are treated to an unending feast of sadism, sexism, and all-around general cruelty complete with torturous deaths, some of which are over-the-top and seem included only for the sake of the gore factor.

When "Turkey Shoot" was originally released it apparently was the subject of quite a bit of controversy in Australia and the UK, where critics and media watchdogs griped about the film's violent content. Over the decades, however, the movie seems to have built a loyal cult following that may have been at least in part attracted by the film's back story, which is more compelling than what ended up on screen. All of this is explored in Severin Films' outstanding bonus features, many of which were imported from a previously released edition from another company. Combined with some fascinating interviews culled from the acclaimed documentary "Not Quite Hollywood" (an excellent history of the Australian film industry by director Mark Hartley), this hodge podge of bonus features adds up to one of the most compelling special editions I've experienced. Most of the major participants are seen reminiscing about the movie. Since they were interviewed separately there wasn't the stigma of offending another participants sensibilities. The interviews play out like a real-life version of "Rashomon" with so many distinctly different versions of the same experience that you wonder if these folks are referring to the same movie. Their candor is both amusing and fascinating as they mostly recall their work on the movie as a very unpleasant experience. (Olivia Hussey is notable by her absence from the extras and this is perhaps the reason why.) The real fun starts when the blame game goes into effect with various actors, producers and Trenchard-Smith assigning responsibility for a film most consider to be least somewhat of a disaster. Trenchard-Smith points out that just before shooting started his production funding was cut substantially. This resulted in key sequences being scrapped. He could have quit there but you have to admire the guy. As a true professional he stuck with the truncated version of the script and began shooting in an inhospitable climate with an unhappy cast and trying to cope with often sub-par special effects caused by the budget cuts. He admits that the negative reaction to the film derided his career (although apparently it made a good deal of money.) There is a new round table discussion with Trenchard-Smith, producer Anthony Ginanne and cinematographer Vincent Monton (who did not film "Turkey Shoot" but who had worked for Ginanne on other productions.) The discussion is polite but leaves little doubt that both Trenchard-Smith and Ginanne both harbor different views about who is to blame for the film's artistic failings. Steve Railsback, seen in a separate interview, implies that even with a reduced budget of $2.5 million, it should have bought a more opulent production for its era and insinuates that some hanky-panky may have caused some of the funding to mysteriously disappear. Lynda Stoner remains especially bitter about her experience on the movie and is still angry that she was pressured into doing a nude scene. Hussey was, too, but stuck to her guns only to have a completely unconvincing body double play the scene. Stoner also harbors resentment toward actor David Hemmings (who did not appear in the film, but who served as one of the producers) for being a dictatorial presence on the set and even insisting upon directing some sequences. 

For all its faults there is much to admire in "Turkey Shoot" especially when one becomes aware of the extreme obstacles that the director and cast had to overcome. The gore factor has become somewhat less shocking in our desensitized era and the good things about it (notably the performances and direction) hold up well. The movie is definitely an acquired taste for select viewers but the Severin special edition should be recommended as a "must have" for anyone who wants an insightful look at how major productions can be sabotaged by factors that neither the case or crew have any control over.

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Social protest has been part of human society going back to Paleolithic times when the first homo-protestapien complained "What, nuts and berries again?" The response was most likely either "Go out and kill something, then," or "Discover fire and I'll make a casserole." Admittedly, I loosely translate from the original "ogg," "ugh" and passionate grunting.

By the year 1968 the earth was awash with protesters (for good reason) who had developed protesting into an art form. The art form of choice was the protest song. From Arlo Guthrie to John Lennon, Country Joe McDonald to Marvin Gaye, Bob Dylan to The Plastic People of the Universe, Phil Ochs to Jimmy Cliff, the airwaves were filled with politically charged lyrics that stirred the souls of the youth of the world. Americans like to think they had a patent upon it but Eastern Europe was at the forefront of something other than Vietnam, their own social unrest.

WWII had been over for more than twenty years but there still were countries in upheaval. The Prague Spring had come to Czechoslovakia and led to another Communist invasion. Yugoslavia was beset with protests from ethnic Albanians in Kosovo and Western Macedonia that led to concessions that angered Serbians and Montenegrins. This caused not only a Serbian emigration from Kosovo but also further religious tensions as Macedonians created their own Orthodox Church and Muslim nationalism rose in Bosnia irritating Serbian churchmen. And, of course, the Cold War was in full swing in Germany with the Berlin Wall, just seven years old, still 21 years away from demolition. It is in the politically turbulent year of 1968 that "Fatherland," aka "Singing the Blues in Red" begins.

We meet protest singer-songwriter Klaus Drittemann (Gerulf Pannach, whose biography mirrors his character's) as he is interrogated by officials of the Stalinist-Communist East German government who look to convict him of crimes against the state and exile him. Drittemann (whose name translates from the German as "third man," make of that what you will) is a Marxist-socialist whose criticism leads to being denied to perform any longer and eventually, at the age of 40, gets him a one-way exit visa to West Germany and he leaves his son and an ex-wife behind.

Whereas some people may think that a good thing with the opportunity to make a living again and become a success in the west - there is already a record company waiting to sign him, Klaus does not. In his, and "Fatherland's" world view capitalism is just as terrifyingly corrupt as hard-line Communism. He is besieged as soon as he steps into the west, turned into a celebrity and faces a choice of signing his life away to the record company or maintaining his ethics. At his press conference in West Berlin he is asked a number of times about his father (Sigfrit Steiner) who was also a musician forced into exile back in the 1950s. When he opens a safe-deposit box in a bank there (the key to which was passed to him by his mother back in East Berlin) he discovers personal effects from his father that turn his life upside down. He now wants to find his father and with the assistance of Emma, a French-Dutch journalist (Fabienne Babe) who seems to be withholding information, he begins his journey and heads to England.

Though made mostly in Germany and in German, "Fatherland" is an English film. Written by Trevor Griffiths, who collaborated with Warren Beatty on "Reds", it was directed by Ken Loach who made a number of politically charged films in the 1980s that ran him afoul of the Conservative Margaret Thatcher government. That government influence extended to the film and television industries and Loach found it harder and harder to work in the UK. This film could be viewed as Loach's and Griffith's response. The dichotomy of Germany's two faces (materialistic consumerism v. slapstick communism) mirrors the divided Great Britain of the late 80s where Thatcher's Tory government of opportunists held sway over a divided Liberal party.

Loach eventually found partners in West Germany and France. "Fatherland" is as straightforward as good Rock ‘n Roll music, it doesn't pull many punches and delivers a philosophy of life that sounds pretty bleak here: "The man born to be hanged need not fear drowning. The ones that are ruled carry others; the ones who rule are carried by others. Any life is better than no life." But if I delivered these lines in context it would amount to a 'spoiler' and if "Fatherland" teaches anything it is that context is everything.

"Fatherland" has been released by Twilight Time as a limited edition (3,000 units) Blu-ray. The disc contains an isolated score track and an informational collector's booklet.

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BY JOHN M. WHALEN

Cinematographer Carl Guthrie opens “Fort Massacre” (1958) with a widescreen cinemascope desert vista – mountains in the background, and a rock formation shaped like a vulture perched on a rock in the foreground. The vulture seems to be looking down at a group of soldiers on a burial detail. Private Robert W. Travis (John Russell), a member of the troop, in a brief bit of opening narration, tells what happened. “C” Troop, Sixth Cavalry was ambushed by 50 apaches and only a dozen men survived. The commanding officer was killed, and a lieutenant is badly wounded, leaving non-commissioned officer, Sgt. Vinson (Joel McCrea), in command. Vinson is a tough man who says he makes his decisions based on what he thinks Army regulations call for. But before long, as they start the 100-mile journey to Ft. Crain, his men begin to wonder if there isn’t something deeper and darker motivating him.

McCrea gives a grim, tight-lipped performance as Vinson, the sergeant who has command of the troop suddenly thrust upon him. His mission is to find the main column of soldiers they were separated from or failing that to proceed by themselves to the fort. Among the other survivors is Travis, the chronicler of this story, a young recruit who tells Vinson that he joined the Army to become a man. Before that he was just a 28-year-old “baby,” unable to make any decisions for himself. Educated, he could have been a doctor or a lawyer but couldn’t decide, so he drifted. Pvt. McGurney (Forrest Tucker) is an Irishman who’s seen a bit of life, and has found his home in the cavalry. He has some serious concerns about Vinson’s ability to command. Next is Pvt. Pendleton (George N. Neise), one of the wounded men, a coward constantly challenging Vinson’s decisions. There are several others who all play a part in the drama, with Pawnee (Robert Caruso), the Indian scout, an important and pivotal character.

Vinson decides to lead the troop toward a waterhole ahead, but Pawnee returns from a scouting mission to report that 20 Apaches have stopped there. Vinson, despite the strenuous objections of his men, orders the troop onward. They will take the waterhole from the Apaches, even though they are outnumbered at least 2-1. It’s on the way to this fight that McGivney tells the other men he suspects the Sgt. doesn’t give a hoot about the safety of his men, but is obsessed with hatred for the Apaches. He informs the others that Apaches killed Vinson’s wife and now all he wants is revenge, even if he has to sacrifice the entire patrol.

When they get to the waterhole, a fierce battle ensues, and the troopers are victorious. However, Travis witnesses Vinson’s cold-blooded murder of an Apache who had tried to surrender. When Travis questions him about it, Vinson goes off the rails, ranting that the Apaches “hate us,” and you have to “feed them bullets.” From this moment on even Travis begins to doubt his sanity, and we watch as a tormented man battles his inner demons.

“Fort Massacre” was directed by Joseph M. Newman (“This Island Earth”) from an original screenplay by Martin Goldsmith (“Detour,” “The Gunfight at Dodge City”). It’s an unusual story for a western. While there’s plenty of action, the focus is on the inner turmoil of the tormented character played by McCrea, a man torn between his responsibility to his men and his fierce hatred of his wife’s killers. The central question Goldsmith poses is “Which side will win out?” The story moves with the inevitability of a train heading toward a collision, culminating in a battle that takes place in an eerie ancient Indian cliff dwelling, which Pvt. Pendleton sarcastically dubs “Fort Massacre.” And, in an ironic twist, it is Travis, the young man who could never make a decision, who provides the film’s shattering climax. “Fort Massacre” is a film well worth watching.

Kino Lorber has done another admirable job bringing this Cinemascope feature to Blu-ray. The film is for the most part exceptionally clean with rich colors and the 2.35:1 aspect ratio for Cinemascope gives us every millimeter of Carl Guthrie’s beautiful cinematography. The soundtrack is DTS Stereo. There’s no surround sound, and the soundtrack is not all that dynamic, but Marlin Skiles score is heard to good advantage throughout. As usual with these Studio Classics Blu-rays the only bonus features are some trailers for other films in the company’s catalog. It’s too bad. Commentary on Goldsmith’s screenplay alone would have been worth whatever the extra cost. Nevertheless, for anyone interested in westerns, particularly the westerns of Joel McCrea this Blu-ray is a must-have.

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 (John M. Whalen's latest book is "The Big Shutdown". Click here to view promotional trailer. Click here to order from Amazon.) 

BY DOUG OSWALD

“Riff-Raff” (or “RIFFRAFF” as it appears in the titles) opens on a rainy night at the El Caribe aircraft hanger in Peru. The pilots, ticket agent and a passenger await the arrival of a man who rushes to the ticket agent and enters the plane clutching his attaché case as he finds a seat among the cargo and livestock. Midflight, a buzzer sounds and a pilot discovers the cargo door gone. The remaining passenger, Charles Hasso (Marc Krah), says the other man jumped. Hasso arrives in Panama and is briefly interrogated by Major Rues (George Givot) who advises him to remain in town for further questioning.

Clutching the attaché, Hasso makes his way to detective Dan Hammer’s office and hires him to protect him and asks to meet later at his hotel. Before leaving he pins a map from the attaché to Hammer’s wall hiding it in plain site among all the other items where it remains unseen by everyone. Meanwhile, Hammer is hired by American oil company executive Walter Gredson (Jerome Cowen, Dagwood’s boss George Radcliffe in the “Blondie” movie series) who owns the map. He wants Hammer to find Hasso and the map. It turns out the map is worth a fortune in South American oil revenues.

Pat O’Brien is terrific as Dan Hammer, an American ex-pat living in Panama. He’s as hard-boiled as private detectives get and is soon approached by pretty blonde nightclub singer Maxine (Anne Jeffreys), the requisite femme fatal and girlfriend of the oil executive seeking the map. Walter sends her to watch over Hammer and follow his progress. Meanwhile, Eric Molinar (Walter Slezac) is also seeking the map. He has his thugs murder Hasso and traces him back to Hammer and the oil executives.

Hammer has a friend and side-kick, a cabbie named Pop, played by Percy Kilbride. Kilbride would soon become famous playing Pa Kettle in eight widely popular movies between 1947 and 1955. Kilbride provides just the right level of laid back comic relief in an otherwise dark detective thriller. Hammer also has a lazy shaggy dog which sleeps outside his open office door and Major Rues is on hand throughout the movie. The relationship between Hammer and Maxine is strictly professional and Hammer quickly realizes she’s sent to spy on him, but they soon fall for each other. Hammer takes quite a beating at the hands of Molinar’s thugs until Maxine discovers the map while helping Hammer get cleaned up.

The movie comes to a satisfying conclusion after 80 hard boiled minutes filled with lots of snappy dialog. The 1947 RKO production was directed by Ted Tetzlaff, better known as a cinematographer in over 100 movies and director of a handful of movies. He put his camera skills to good use here as director creating just the right atmosphere of light and dark and shadows. The black and white image is well preserved on this burn-to-order DVD released as part of the Warner Archive Collection. The disc is bare bones, but the movie is worth checking out for the outstanding black and white photography, terrific story, great cast of character actors and of course that great title. “Riff-Raff” is a true gem among 1940s crime thrillers.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Sir Alec Guinness gave so many brilliant dramatic screen performances that many moviegoers forget that he was also one of the most accomplished comedic actors the British film industry had ever seen. Although Guinness first gained fame with star-making roles in David Lean's "Great Expectations" and "Oliver Twist" (playing Fagin), the bulk of his successes in the 1950s were in classic British comedies such as "The Lavender Hill Mob", "Kind Hearts and Coronets", "The Ladykillers", "The Horse's Mouth", "Our Man in Havana", "All at Sea", "The Captain's Paradise", "The Man in the White Suit" and "The Lavender Hill Mob". By any standard, a remarkable roster of great comedies.  By the 1960s, however, Guinness concentrated mostly on dramatic roles. Who could blame him, with prime appearances in David Lean's "Lawrence of Arabia" and "Doctor Zhivago"? In 1965 he did make one screwball comedy, "Situation Hopeless..But Not Serious", a WWII-era film that co-starred young up-and-coming Robert Redford in a supporting role, but the movie didn't particularly resonate with critics or audiences.  His only other concession to the genre of cinematic farce was "Hotel Paradis0", filmed in 1966 by writer/director Peter Glenville, who only sporadically made movies. Glenville's most recent cinematic excursion had been his highly acclaimed 1964 film version of  Jean Anouilh's play "Becket". "Paradiso" was as far away from that dramatic achievement as one could imagine. It returned Guinness to a genre that allowed him to re-tune his considerable skills at playing overt comedy. In fact, Guinness had starred in the original London production of the play in 1956. 

The film is adapted from the play "L'Hotel du Libre Echange", which was co-written by Georges Feydeau (who Glenville appears as in the film, albeit in an uncredited role.) In fact, Alec  Guinness had starred in the original London production of the play in 1956. Like the play, the movie is set in the suburbs of Paris in the early 1900s. Guinness plays Benedict Boniface, a sophisticated milquetoast who lives a comfortable existence with one glaring exceptional factor: he is constantly henpecked by his shrewish, dominating wife Angelique (Peggy Mount), who oversees his every move. Benedict suffers in silence, finding a bit of solace by puttering around his garden which adjoins the home of Henri and Marcelle Cotte (Robert Morley and Gina Lollobrigida).They have their own problems: Henri is a negligent husband who is more obsessed with his career as an architect than he is with the considerable charms of his gorgeous wife, who is frustrated by his neglect and who is desperate for some romantic attention. One sunny afternoon when Henri leaves for an overnight business trip to the city, Benedict summons the courage to drop in on Marcelle and express his love for her. She is shocked but doesn't lose any time in agreeing to explore the possibility of an affair with him. Fate favors the would-be lovers when Angelique announces that she, too, is leaving on an overnight trip to look after an ailing sister. Things almost go awry when an unexpected house guest, Mr. Martin (David Byng), arrives to take up the Boniface's on a long ago offer they made to have him stay with him. The trouble is that Martin, a widower, has in tow his brood of four young daughters and their enormous amount of luggage. The Benedicts are horrified and inform Mr. Martin in the most polite manner possible that they simply don't have space to lodge the entire family and that he she consider taking rooms at a hotel in Paris. Through a misunderstanding, the name of Hotel Paradiso is mentioned. This happens to be a sleazy establishment that stays afloat by catering to illicit lovers. It is precisely the place where Benedict intends to spend the night with Marcelle. However, unbeknownst to him, Mr. Martin has mistakenly assumed that Benedict has recommended the hotel as a place for him and his daughters to stay. Benedict and Marcelle meet for dinner at a local restaurant where they briefly enjoy a rather saucy stage act before realizing they might be recognized. They then head off to Hotel Paradiso where they rather awkwardly enter the bedroom in anticipation of carrying out their plans for engaging in the kinds of activity that would surely cause a public scandal if they were to be discovered. Things get complicated quickly. Every time the would-be lovers are about to get down to business, another remarkable coincidence occurs. They include the arrival of Henri, who is staying at the hotel to examine the plumbing. Then Mr. Martin arrives with his four daughters. Even the Benedict's flirty maid shows up with Henri's nephew, who is about to be seduced by the amorous domestic servant. Playwright Georges Feydeau is on hand as he silently observes the goings-on. The film quickly becomes a classically-styled bedroom farce with Benedict and Marcelle now trapped in their room and deftly trying to avoid being seen. There are countless near-misses and close encounters and the inevitable face-to-face meetings that require explaining their presence at the hotel by employing incredulous excuses. Before long, the police end up the hotel and Benedict and Marcelle are arrested, which adds another obstacle to overcome in their unconsummated love affair.

The film was greeted with tepid reviews at the time, with critics citing Glenville's propensity to direct films as though he was still working in a theater. It's true that Glenville does have a somewhat heavy hand in terms of directing lightweight comedy scenarios.However, the movie certainly plays better today simply because no one makes films like this anymore, least of all with the caliber of stars like Guinness and Lollobrigida, who was also quite adept between dramatic roles and lightweight farces. Both actors are at their best here, especially as the pace of the farce picks up pace and the coincidences and obstacles that their characters have to deal with become more incredible and amusing. There is able support from the always-reliable Robert Morley and Akim Tamiroff turns up as the hotel's sleazy manager. However, the show-stealing performance is the hilarious turn by  David Byng, whose Mr. Martin is a naive eccentric with a sporadic speech impediment that comes and goes depending upon the state of the weather! It plays a pivotal role in the film's climax. The concluding sequence takes place at the opening of a new play by Georges Feydeau which the principal characters attend together. It leads to a very amusing "sting-in-the-tail" finale with ironic consequences. "Hotel Paradiso" benefits from a lavish production design and a good score by Laurence Rosenthal. It also marked an early career achievement for legendary film editor Anne V. Coates. In summary, a most entertaining film from an era in which there was a place for sophistication in cinematic comedies. 

The Warner Archive DVD is region-free and includes the original trailer.  The packaging also retains the wonderful original poster art by Frank Frazetta.

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BY JOHN M. WHALEN

“He Ran All the Way” (1951) was forties’ tough guy John Garfield’s last cinematic performance. It’s a taut, tense, claustrophobic drama about Nick Robey, a cop-killer who takes a family hostage in a small apartment, as he tries to figure a way to lam out of town. As Garfield’s swan song it’s a compelling performance, and ironically there are eerie hints throughout the film of the real life crises he was facing at the time. More on that later.

The film begins with Robey’s mother (Gladys George) hollering at him to get out of bed and go look for work. She talks to him like a worthless bum and the first time we see him, Robey is a harassed, seemingly helpless character without a clue what he ought to be doing with his life. When he leaves his apartment his friend, Al Molin (Norman Lloyd) catches him on the street and reminds him they do have something to do. Almost as if against his will, Robey finds himself with a gun in his hand, as they march into a warehouse and rob a guy carrying a briefcase full of money. The job is botched from the start. A cop shoots Molin in the back and Robey plugs the cop and runs for it.

James Wong Howe’s stark black and white close up cinematography showing the sweat on Garfield’s face and the look of fear in his eyes and John Berry’s close, unyielding direction perfectly convey the rage and paranoia of a desperate man on the run. Robey stays on the crowded city streets as long as he can, then ducks into an indoor swimming pool where he picks up Peggy Dobbs (Shelley Winters). He figures if he has a girl with him, he has a better chance of not being spotted by the cops. He manages to take her home, where unexpectedly he learns she lives with her mom (Selena Royal) and dad (Wallace Ford) and kid brother (Bobby Hyatt).

The family, seeing that Peggy has a new boyfriend, obligingly goes to the movies, leaving them alone. Peggy is hopelessly naïve as Garfield grills her about the family and her life. When she turns on the radio and they start to dance, she tells him to loosen up. “I dance the way I wanna dance,” he snaps and turns the music off. That’s the kind of guy he is. When the family members come back from the movies, he looks out the window and sees them on the street talking to two men. He thinks they’re cops and he pulls a gun on mom, pop and the kid when they come upstairs. That’s when the trouble starts and unfortunately that’s when the story starts to unravel.

After keeping them hostage overnight, he lets the old man and Peg go to work next morning so as not to arouse suspicion, threatening to kill the others if they give anything away. Frankly, at this point, the situation becomes too contrived and the characters, Robey included, too unbelievable and too unlikeable for anyone to really care what happens to them. The Wallace Ford Character and his wife are too cowardly, Peggy is at first too naïve and then later too daring or foolhardy to be believable. And Robey is at turns too much of a whiner on the one hand and too much of a thug on the other.

As noted earlier, “He Ran All the Way,” a movie about a man hounded by authorities and grim fate, mirrors in many ways the real-life situation Garfield was living through at the time. His career was on the skids, he had a bad heart condition, and he was being investigated by Joe McCarthy’s House UnAmerican Activities Committee for his involvement with the Communist Party. Like Nick Robey, Garfield was trapped in a web of circumstances from which he would never escape. Garfield would be dead of a heart attack a year later at the age of 39.

This film generally gets great reviews, in part, I suspect because it was Garfield’s last, and also because, in another ironic twist, it was written by Dalton Trumbo, who had his own troubles with the McCarthy Committee. He went to jail as one of the famous Hollywood 10 for not naming names. Trumbo and co-writer Hugh Butler had to use the name of Guy Endore in the credits as a front. Working from a novel by Sam Ross, they tried to keep the tension high, but in the end it all sort of comes apart, and by the time it’s over you’re sorry more of the characters don’t suffer Robey’s fate. They just plain get on your nerves. But maybe that was the point. The world created by Trumbo, Butler and Ross, was a world you wouldn’t want to live in anyway. Maybe you’d be better off dead. Come to think of it, wasn’t that the point of most of Garfield’s movies?

Kino Lorber has outdone themselves with this stunning Studio Classics Blu-Ray presentation of “He Ran All the Way.” The restored transfer is absolutely flawless. The picture is crystal clear and the crisp black and white photography is rendered in film-like detail. Sound is mono. Unfortunately there are no extras except for a trailer for the film and for two others, including “A Bullet for Joey.”

Overall, I can think of several other Garfield films I’d recommend over this one, including “The Postman Always Rings Twice,” and “Body and Soul.” But despite its flaws, I’d recommend getting this one just to round out your Garfield collection and to enjoy, perhaps, one of the best black white Blu-ray discs on the market.

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 (John M. Whalen's latest book is "The Big Shutdown". Click here to view promotional trailer. Click here to order from Amazon.)