BY DOUG OSWALD

Robert Mitchum is Martin Brady, an American hired gun living in exile in Mexico in “The Wonderful Country,” a Blu-ray release from Kino Lorber. While waiting on the Rio Grande for his contact for a gun smuggling job, Brady decides to escort the wagon north to Puerto, Texas, and pick up a cache of guns on behalf of his employers, the Castro brothers.  Pancho Gil (Mike Kellin), another agent of the Castros, arrives to escort the guns they’re buying from a man named Sterner, but Brady insists on picking up the guns himself. When one of Brady’s associates reminds him that he’s a wanted man in America, Brady states, “I want to see the other side of the river.”

Arriving in Puerto, a tumble-weed startles Brady’s horse and he breaks a leg in the fall. He’s aided by Dr. Herbert J. Stovall (Charles McGraw), who sets his leg. Ben Sterner (John Banner, Sergeant Schultz of “Hogan’s Heroes” fame) receives his 500 silver Pecos in payment for the guns. We learn Brady killed the man who murdered his father and he believes he’s a wanted man, thus his self-imposed exile in Mexico.. We later discover this is not the case after the U.S. Army and the Texas Rangers approach him about working for them to prevent the Castro brothers from selling guns to the Apaches.

Major Stark Colton (Gary Merrill) wants Martin to help the U.S. Army stop the Castro brothers from selling guns to the Apaches. The Castros are a couple of regional Mexican tyrants, one a governor and the other a general. Texas Ranger Captain Rucker (Albert Dekker) wants Brady to join the Rangers, all past crimes forgiven. Meanwhile, Helen Colton (Julie London), Colton’s beautiful wife, meets up with Brady. Rumors spread about the two of them, resulting in Brady killing a man bullying his friend “Chico” Sterner (Max Slaten Ludwig) followed by his return to Mexico to confront the Castro brothers.

The wonderful country in “The Wonderful Country” may be that place between borders, cultures and people on the other side of the river or in the next village. It’s the place one longs for after leaving home, but can never fully return to. More Mexican than American after his years in exile, Brady wants to return home, but discovers it isn’t possible. He’s seen by the Castro Brothers as a “gringo” and by the Americans as some sort of hybrid Mexican not to be trusted.

Pedro Armendáriz is a welcome addition to the movie as Governor Don Cipriano Castro in a small role as the political half of the notorious Castro brothers. General Marcos Castro (Víctor Manuel Mendoza), is the military half and they play Brady against one another holding his past as collateral for his service until he’s had enough and refuses their orders. The Castro brothers are discussed throughout the first half of the movie, but their welcome appearance, especially that of Armendariz, is a bit of a let down because they have next to nothing to do other than give Brady new orders and to share their mistrust of each other.

“The Wonderful Country” boasts many merits, but it has a complicated plot which is slow paced and filled with underdeveloped dramatic elements and characters. I wanted to see more of Armendariz, Merrill, Banner and Kellin as well as a more fully developed relationship between Brady and Helen. We never fully learn about Helen’s past, why she’s unhappy with her husband or what she sees in Brady. We also don’t really get a satisfying reason for the gun running operation between the Castro’s, Sterner and the Apaches other than to have a gun battle between the U.S. Cavalry and the Apaches as well as several cross border visits for Brady and other members of the cast. Baseball great Leroy “Satchel” Paige has a small role as Army Sergeant Tobe Sutton and Jack Oakie makes an appearance as Travis Hyte.

The film is based on the novel by Tom Lea, who also has a cameo as the barber who gives Mitchum a shave. The 1959 United Artists release was directed by Academy Award winning editor Robert Parrish (He also co-directed “Casino Royale” (1967) and directed “Fire Down Below,” “Journey to the Far Side of the Sun,” “Lucy Gallant, “The Purple Plain,” “Saddle in the Wind” and more than a dozen other movies). Parrish had a distinguished career as editor/actor/director. He also wrote the best selling 1988 autobiographies “Growing Up In Hollywood” and “Hollywood Doesn’t Live Here Anymore” where he chronicles his experiences as a child actor in Charlie Chaplin and Our Gang comedies to his WWII service, relationships with many classic Hollywood greats and his editing/directing career.

Produced by Mitchum’s production company, D.R.M. Productions with Mitchum credited as executive producer, there’s also a great score by Alex North. In the end, the sum totals of all those other interesting elements do not add up to a cohesive movie. it needs a tighter plot and and even the 98 minute running time seems a bit padded.. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray looks and sounds terrific, preserving the beautifully filmed widescreen image. The disc includes the theatrical trailer for this and two other Mitchum releases as the only extras. "The Wonderful Country" is a flawed but entertaining film and  the Blu-ray is a welcome addition  for fans of Mitchum and traditional Westerns.

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BY RICH DREES

“I have many impressive things to show you in my citadel!”

So intones the looming hologram of maniacal would-be galactic conqueror Omus (Jack Palance) to heroic Jason Caball (Nicholas Campbell) and Kim (Ann-Marie Martin) after they have landed on the planet Delta Three. Apparently, a screening of the film that this scene is unfolding in, 1978's “The Shape Of Things To Come,” is not on the agenda. Coming in the midst of the first big “Star Wars”-knockoff boom, this Canadian low-budget effort may have its fans, but “impressive” is probably not a word to describe the film. Even viewing it for the cheese factor, it is still a rather moldy and unappetizing cinematic confection.

In the far future, humanity has colonized the moon to escape a war-ravaged Earth. Their peaceful existence comes into jeopardy when Delta Three, their only source of an anti-radiation medicine, is taken over by the tyrannical Omus and his army of robots. Omus is looking to extend the reach of his rule to the moon and is planning on attacking the lunar domed cities with a fleet of robot run spacecraft. In an attempt to thwart the invasion before it starts, Dr. John Caball (Barry Morse), his son Jason (Campbell), his friend Kim (Martin),and teleporting robot Sparks head to Delta Three. Once there, they hook up with a group of rebels led by Delta Three's deposed governor who are planning an assault against Omus's citadel in an attempt to win back their world.

As anyone with a passing familiarity of the film's alleged source material, any similarity between “The Shape of Things To Come” and H.G. Wells' novel (or the 1936 film directed by William Cameron Menzies for that matter) is strictly coincidental. What might not be so coincidental are the rebels led by a strong woman character, sassy robots, imperiled planets and an aspiration to high adventure that firmly put this movie as firmly trying to hitch a ride on the then-current “Star Wars” wave.

But that is not to say that the screenplay is not without its own ambitions. It wants to give us the spectacle of a desperate group of rebels fighting off a rampaging army of killer robots or the exotic but deadly perils of space travels. Unfortunately, its ambitions far outweigh the talent or resources available to realize them. Director George McCowan has neither the eye or the budget to bring any life to the material on the screen. It isn't as if his crew didn't try. The design and build of the movie's spacecraft models is particularly nice. Unfortunately, it appears as if the budget ran out when it came time to paint and light them. The rest of the film's visual aesthetic does not fare much better. The lighting is flat and the best that can be said about the cinematography is that the camera is pointed at the actors. At times when the film sobers enough to realize it doesn't have the budget to visualize what it wants to it commits the same cardinal sin that Robert Wise's “Star Trek: The Next Generation” would commit a few months later and resorts to showing its cast stare at a screen and commenting on something that is never actually shown to the audience. Those in search of any kind of visual flair will need to look elsewhere.

For his part, Nicholas Campbell certainly seems to understand exactly what movie he has been a part of and is candid about his experiences in one of the two interviews included as special features on Blue Underground's recent Blu-ray release of the film. It is a shame that an interview with Campbell's co-star Ann-Marie Martin couldn't have been secured, as it would have been interesting to see her feelings on the film as someone who narrowly lost out landing the part of Princess Leia in “Star Wars” just a few years earlier. The other interview that is included on the disc is with composer Paul Hoffert who seems to have had more enjoyable experience, given the freedom he had to experiment a bit with combining traditional orchestrations with newer electronic instrumentation. A French trailer (possibly for the Quebec market?), a television commercial and poster, picture and press book galleries round out the disc's extras.

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BY RICH DREES

Spending a good portion of my high school years devouring the paperback reprints of the Doc Savage pulp novels of the 1930s and '40s, the George Pal-produced “Doc Savage: The Man Of Bronze,” is a bit of a bitter pill to swallow. The film gets just enough right to show tantalizing promise only to snatch that away with what it gets wrong.

Summoned back to his Manhattan skyscraper headquarters from his arctic retreat where he was using the isolation to perform some experiments, scientist and adventurer Clark “Doc” Savage Jr. meets with his five closest friends and adventuring companions to be told that his father has died while in the small South American country of Hildago. However, the reunion between Doc and his aides – known as the Fabulous Five – is interrupted by an assassination attempt carried out by a native from a South American tribe Doc can't identify. Surmising that his father's death was not from natural causes, the group head to Hidalgo to investigate. There they encounter the villainous Captain Seas (Paul Wexler), who with government functionary Don Rubio Gorro (Bob Corso), is trying to steal land that was granted to Doc's father by the leaders of the long lost Mayan tribe, the Quetzamal. Doc, his aides and Mona, Don Rubio Gorro's truehearted assistant, head inland to the Quetzamal's hidden village to stop Seas and Gorro's attempt to steal the gold of the Quetzamal for themselves.

In broad strokes, the script captures the globetrotting nature of many of the early Doc pulp stories published by Street & Smith between 1933 and 1949. The film's overall plot is taken directly from the first first Doc Savage yarn published in March 1933, also titled “The Man Of Bronze.” But readers of the old pulps will perhaps recognize that writer Joe Morhaim and Pal have grafted onto the screenplay some elements from a couple of other Savage stories, most notably “The Green Death” (November 1938), “The Mystic Mullah” (January 1935) and “Mystery Under The Sea” (February 1936).

The film does sport a wonderful cast. Ron Ely is as probably as close to the pulps' description of Doc Savage as Hollywood is likely to get, the visual of him standing on the running-board of a touring car as it races through the streets of Manhattan (or more accurately, Warner Brothers' New York City backlot) is an image brought to life directly out of the pulps. And Ely plays the role with a sincerity that at times feels as if it goes against the grain of the campy tone director Michael Anderson is attempting. The casting for Doc's five aides are all equally physically spot on. Those who did their teen years in the 1980s will probably get a kick out of seeing Paul Gleason as one of Doc's aides a full decade before he was tormenting teens at Saturday detention in “The Breakfast Club.” Pam Hemsley as Mona appears much more wholesome here than she would just a few years later as space vamp Princess Ardala on NBC's “Buck Rogers In The 25^th Century.” Horror fans may enjoy a rather atypical appearance from future “The Hills Have Eyes” star Michael Berryman.

Pal certainly lavished some money on the production, at least in spots. There is some great location photography for both Doc's approach to his Fortress of Solitude in the beginning of the film and when Doc and his aides are trekking across South America to the Valley of the Vanished. Less convincing is the set-bound look of the lost Quetzamal tribe's lost valley. (See the latest issue of CinemaRetro for more on the making of the film.)

So why did “Doc Savage: The Man Of Bronze,” flop so hard when released? Perhaps it was the wrong movie at the wrong time. The fall of Saigon and the end of the Vietnam War was just a little over a month in the past when the film hit theaters in June of 1975. The country was in a malaise and a movie wasn't going to snap it out of its funk until “Star Wars” comes along in another two years. It may also have been overshadowed by the release of “Jaws” the same month, which sapped much of the oxygen out of the adventure film market To a cynical and war-weary nation, the film's simplistic pre-Depression era idea of good guys and bad guys perhaps was seen as naive, if not downright laughable. Moments when the film dips into camp – such as the Doc's apparent need to slap his stylized logo on all his equipment or Don Rubio Gorro's weird diaper and giant crib fetish – probably felt like a way too late attempt to cash in on the campy Adam West “Batman” TV series which had been off the air for years by this time. Ultimately, tone is the biggest thing that works against the film and it should be interesting to see how writer/director Shane Black will handle it if his planned Doc Savage movie ever gets out of development.

Warner Archive’s new Blu-ray 1080p transfer from the film's original inter-positive does a good job showcasing the cinematography of Fred J. Koenekamp , who was fresh off his Academy Award-winning work on “The Towering Inferno.” The only extra feature on the disc is a trailer, which shows some definite wear around the edges.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

If it's remembered at all, the 1970 WWII comedy Which Way to the Front? is generally attributed as being the film that ended Jerry Lewis' career as a leading man - at least for quite some time.  During the 1950s, Lewis' partnership with Dean Martin made them the kind of pop culture idols that would only be rivaled by The Beatles and Michael Jackson. If that sounds absurd, search out newsreel footage of the thousands of people that stormed their hotel in Times Square, causing police to close the vicinity as Dean and Jerry merrily tossed autographed photos to the crowd below. When Martin left the act, thus bringing about one of the longest feuds in show biz history, both men went on to enjoy a successful careers on their own. Martin's friendship with Frank Sinatra did much to keep him in the public eye until he enjoyed his own fanatically loyal following. Lewis became a prolific producer and director, one of the first movie stars to successfully multi-task in front and behind the cameras. Others had given it a try only to give up after a film or two. Lewis persevered and earned respect for his knowledge of filmmaking techniques even as he enjoyed his ranking among the top boxoffice attractions in the world.

By the late 1960s, however, Lewis' brand of innocent slapstick humor had fallen victim to the new freedoms in the cinema. Suddenly he began to look like a quaint throwback to a much earlier era, even though only a few short years had transpired since the pinnacle of his career. His modest romantic comedies couldn't compete with Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice frolicking in the same bed. Lewis was dismayed by this trend and tried to fight back by opening a national chain of Jerry Lewis Cinema franchises that would be allowed to play only family-oriented films. His timing couldn't have been worse. The lack of appropriate fare not only sank the theater chain but also took down such iconic family-themed theaters as Radio City Music Hall. (Ironically, audiences couldn't be persuaded to pay $5 to see a new movie plus a magnificent stage show starring the Rockettes. Today, they line up in droves and pay $100 just to see the stage show.) Lewis gamely fought on but his films became afterthoughts to his once loyal public. He remained very popular in Vegas nightclubs and his annual Muscular Dystrophy Telethon continued to raise millions for charity.

Lewis' 1970 Warner Brothers comedy Which Way to the Front? has been released on DVD by the Warner Archive. The film is an curiosity in the funnyman's career in that, unlike his previous films, there is literally nothing funny about the movie at all. Even the least of Lewis' other works had a few scenes that would make his detractors chuckle, but this misguided farce seems to have been cobbled together at the last minute just to satisfy a contractual obligation. Lewis plays Brendan Byers III, "the world's richest man." Byers is bored with life and is surrounded by sniveling yes men who cater to his every whim. Thus they perceive a crisis when he gets a draft notice. That in itself is the first absurdity as Lewis was in his mid-40s at the time and would not have been of draft age. Nevertheless, Byers surprises his employees by rejecting their offers to find ways to get him out of military service. He has found his purpose in life: to fight for the American way of life. His joy is short-lived when he is rejected for military service. Crushed and humiliated, he befriends three other men (Jan Murray, Steve Franken, Dack Rambo) who were also classified as unfit for the army.  The screenplay is so sloppy that it never explains why these able-bodied men were deemed unable to serve. Each one of his new friends has their own compelling personal crisis that makes it mandatory that they get out of the country. Byers comes up with a novel idea: if the U.S. Army doesn't want them, he'll use his unlimited wealth to create his own army.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Fox has reissued its original DVD release of the 1968 western "Bandolero!" as a region-free title in its made-on-demand "Cinema Archives" line.  The film is top-notch entertainment on all levels- the kind of movie that was considered routine in in its day but which can be more appreciated today. The story opens with a bungled bank robbery carried out by Dee Bishop (Dean Martin) and his motley gang. In the course of the robbery two innocent people are killed including a local businessman and land baron, Stoner (Jock Mahoney). The gang is captured by Sheriff July Johnson (George Kennedy) and his deputy Roscoe Bookbinder (Andrew Prine) and are sentenced to be hanged. Meanwhile Dee's older brother Mace (James Stewart), a rogue himself, gets wind of the situation and waylays the eccentric hangman while he is enroute to carry out the execution. By assuming the man's identity he is able to afford Mace and his gang the opportunity to cheat death at the last minute. When they flee the town they take along an "insurance policy"- Stoner's vivacious young widow Maria (Raquel Welch) who they kidnap along the way. This opening section of the film is especially entertaining, mixing genuine suspense with some light-hearted moments such as Mace calmly robbing the bank when all the men ride off in a posse to chase down the would-be bank robbers. Mace and Dee reunite on the trail and the gang crosses the Rio Grande into Mexico- with July and a posse wiling to violate international law by chasing after them in hot pursuit. Much of the film is rather talky by western standards but the script by James Lee Barrett makes the most of these campfire conversations by fleshing out the supporting characters. Dee's outlaw gang makes characters from a Peckinpah movie look like boy scouts. Among them is an aging outlaw, Pop Cheney (Will Geer), a well-spoken but disloyal, greedy man who is overly protective of his somewhat shy son, Joe (Tom Heaton). The presence of Maria predictably results in numerous gang members attempting to molest her but their efforts are thwarted by Dee, who always comes to her rescue. Before long, Maria is making goo-goo eyes at her protector, conveniently forgetting he is also the man who slew her innocent husband. (The script tries to get around this by explaining that while her husband was a decent man who treated her well, she could never get over the fact that he literally bought her as a teenager from her impoverished family). The story also puts some meat on the bone in terms of Dee and Mace's somewhat fractured relationship. Both of them have been saddle tramps but Mace informs Dee that his reputation as a notorious outlaw allowed their mother, who Dee neglected, to go to her grave with a broken heart. Every time the script might become bogged down in these maudlin aspects of the characters, a good dose of humor is injected, 

The story proper kicks in mid-way through the film when the gang finds itself en route to a remote town in the Mexican desert that mandates that they cross a hellish landscape populated by bandoleros, particularly vicious bandits who appear seemingly out of nowhere and pick off individuals one-by-one in a "Lost Patrol"-like scenario. July and his gang are also subject to the eerie murders as stragglers in the posse become victims. When Dee and his gang finally arrive at the town they find it deserted, as the population has fled the marauding bandoleros. Dee proposes to Maria and they agree to start a new life ranching with Mace in Montana- but their joy is short-lived when July and his posse sneak into town and arrest them. Before everyone can saddle up to return to the USA, the town is invaded by an army of bandoleros, setting in motion a truly exciting finale. The entire enterprise is directed by Andrew V. McLaglen, an old hand with horse operas and often memorable action flicks such as "Chisum", "The Wild Geese" and "The Sea Wolves". "Bandolero!" is one of his best achievements and he inspires fine performances by all. Martin plays it unusually straight and in a subdued manner, a rare instance during this era of him playing a realistic, multi-dimensional character. Stewart looks like he's having the time of his life and Welch, then still a contract player for Fox, acquits herself very well indeed among these seasoned pros. The supporting cast is excellent with Kennedy and Prine in top form and familiar faces such as Will Geer, Denver Pyle, Dub Taylor, Perry Lopez and Harry Carey Jr. popping up in brief appearances. There is also some excellent cinematography by William Clothier and a typically fine score by Jerry Goldsmith. "Bandolero!" is one of the best westerns released during this era. 

The Fox made-on-demand titles are generally devoid of bonus materials but they have wisely ported over additional content that was found on the initial DVD release. These include a trailer for the film as well as a Spanish language trailer and a gallery of very welcome trailers for other Fox Raquel Welch titles. The transfer is excellent but Fox didn't catch a blooper on the main menu which depicts Stewart, Welch and- wait for it- what appears to be an image of Stuart Whitman! Apparently some Mr. Magoo-type who designed the menu eons ago couldn't tell the difference between Dean Martin and Stuart Whitman, who starred in both "The Comancheros" and "Rio Conchos" for Fox. A minor gaffe on an otherwise fine release. 

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

In the mid 1960s Amicus Productions emerged as a Hammer Films wanna-be. The studio aped the Hammer horror films and even occasionally encroached on Hammer by "stealing" their two biggest stars, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. The first Amicus hit was "Dr. Terror's House of Horrors", released in 1965 and top-lining Lee and Cushing. The format of various horror tales linked by an anthology format proved to be so successful that Amicus would repeat the formula over the next decade in films such as "Tales from the Crypt", "Vault of Horror" and "The House That Dripped Blood". The studio cranked out plenty of other horror flicks and by the mid-to-late 1970s Amicus was producing better fare than Hammer, which had made the mistake of increasingly concentrating on blood and gore and tits and ass to the detriment of the overall productions. Occasionally-indeed, very rarely- Amicus would branch out from the horror genre and produce other fare. (i.e. the Bond-inspired "Danger Route" and the social drama "Thank You All Very Much") but the studio was out of its element when it came to producing non-horror flicks.  A particularly inspired offbeat entry in the Amicus canon was the 1970 production "The Mind of Mr. Soames", based on a novel by Charles Eric Maine. The intriguing premise finds John Soames (Terence Stamp) a 30 year-old man who has been in a coma since birth. He has been studiously tended to by the staff at a medical institution in the British countryside where a round-the-clock team sees to it that he is properly nourished and that his limbs are exercised to prevent atrophy. Soames apparently is an orphan with no living relatives so he is in complete custody of the medical community, which realizes he represents a potentially important opportunity for scientific study- if he can be awakened. That possibility comes to pass when an American, Dr. Bergen (Robert Vaughn) arrives at the clinic possessing what he feels is a successful method of performing an operation that will bring Soames "to life". The operation is surprisingly simple and bares fruit when, hours later, Soames begins to open his eyes and make sounds.The staff realize this is a medical first: Soames will come into the world as a grown man but with the mind and instincts of a baby. 

Soames' primary care in the post-operation period is left to Dr. Maitland (Nigel Davenport), who has constructed a rigid schedule to advance Soames' intellect and maturity as quickly as possible. Initially, Maitland's plans pay off and Soames responds favorably to the new world he is discovering. However, over time, as his intellect reaches that of a small child, he begins to harbor resentment towards Maitland for his "all stick and no carrot" approach to learning. Dr. Bergen tries to impress on Maitland the importance of allowing Soames to have some levity in his life and the opportunity to learn at his own pace. Ultimately, Bergen allows Soames outside to enjoy the fresh air and observe nature first hand on the clinic's lush grounds.  Soames is ecstatic but his joy is short-lived when an outraged Dr. Maitland has him forcibly taken back into the institute. Soames ultimately rebels and makes a violent escape into a world he is ill-equipped to understand. He has the maturity and knowledge of a five or six year old boy but knows that he prefers freedom to incarceration. As a massive manhunt for Soames goes into overdrive, the film traces his abilities to elude his pursuers as he manages to travel considerable distance with the help of well-intentioned strangers who don't realize who he is. Soames is ultimately struck by a car driven by a couple on a remote country road. Because the lout of a husband was drunk at the time, they choose to nurse him back to health in their own home. The wife soon realizes who he is and takes pity on him- but when Soames hear's approaching police cars he bolts, thus setting in motion a suspenseful and emotionally wrenching climax. 

"The Mind of Mr. Soames" is unlike any other Amicus feature. It isn't a horror film nor a science fiction story and the plot device of a man having been in a coma for his entire life is presented as a totally viable medical possibility. Although there are moments of tension and suspense, this is basically a mature, psychological drama thanks to the intelligent screenplay John Hale and Edward Simpson and the equally impressive, low-key direction of Alan Cooke, who refrains from overplaying the more sensational aspects of the story. Stamp is outstanding in what may have been the most challenging role of his career and he receives excellent support from Robert Vaughn (sporting the beard he grew for his next film, the remake of "Julius Caesar") and Nigel Davenport. Refreshingly, there are no villains in the film. Both doctors have vastly different theories and approaches to treating Soames but they both want what is best for him. The only unsympathetic character is a hipster TV producer and host played by Christian Roberts who seeks to exploit the situation by filming and telecasting Soames' progress as though it were a daily soap opera.

Christian Roberts, Vickery Turner and Robert Vaughn.

Amicus had a potential winner with this movie but it punted when it came to the advertising campaign by implying it was a horror film. "The mind of a baby, the strength of a madman!" shouted the trailers and the print ads screamed "CAN THIS BABY KILL?" alongside an absurd image of  Stamp locked inside an infant's crib. In fact, Soames does pose a danger to others and himself simply because he doesn't realize the implications of his own strength- but he is presented sympathetically in much the same way as the monster in the original "Frankenstein".  Perhaps because of the botched marketing campaign, the film came and went quickly. In some major U.S. cities it was relegated to a few art houses before it disappeared. In fact the art house circuit was where it belonged but the ad campaign isolated upper crust viewers who favored films by Bergman and Fellini but balked when the saw the over-the-top elements of the ads.

Sony has released the film as a region-free made-to-order DVD and it boasts a very fine transfer but sadly no bonus extras. Still the company deserves credit for making this little-seen gem finally available on home video where its many attributes can finally be enjoyed by a wider audience.

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BY JOHN M. WHALEN

There have been two films based on the story of Hugh Glass, the mountain man who in 1823 was attacked by a grizzly bear and left for dead in the territory now known as South Dakota. “The Revenant” (2015), starring Leonardo DiCaprio, is the more recent and better known. It won three Oscars, including best actor, best director (Alejandro G. Iñárritu), and best cinematography (Emmanuel Lubezki). It was hailed as a cinematic tour de force because of its on-location photography and Iñárritu’s innovative filmmaking techniques, not to mention DiCaprio’s endurance-test of a performance. In some ways, however, the film is so over the top in style and execution that the director’s techniques tend to overshadow the substance of the story. It also fictionalizes the true events it is based on in a way that makes it more melodramatic than it needed to be. Even the New York Times noted its “Pearls of Pauline” approach to storytelling.

A more satisfying and truthful telling of the Glass saga can be found in the first filmed version—the sadly overlooked and highly underrated “Man in the Wilderness” (1971) starring Richard Harris. Directed by Richard C. Sarafian and scripted by Jack DeWitt (who also wrote the “Man Called Horse” movies), “Wilderness” tells its story simply, directly, and far more powerfully. It’s now available from Warner Archive in Blu-Ray, and it’s time this movie got a second look.

The basic idea in the two films is the same. Glass, one of the trappers in the Captain Andrew Henry expedition, is attacked by a grizzly and so badly injured that no one expects him to live. Henry orders two men to stay with him until he expires. It is at this early point in the plot that the two films diverge. Iñárritu’s film depicts one of the men left behind, John Fitzgerald (Tom Hardy) as a completely despicable character—almost an Oil Can Harry villain. He hates Glass and Hawk, the half-breed son he had by an Indian squaw, who serves as the hunting party’s scout. He kills Hawk, who catches him trying to murder Glass and tells Bridger, the other man left behind, that he saw some Arikara Indians coming and frightens him into abandoning Glass. The bulk of the film follows Glass as he overcomes his wounds and the elements, and faces a final showdown with his nemesis. While this makes an exciting story, it’s not entirely in accordance with the facts, and forces the film to have a somewhat clichéd ending.

Sarafian’s version of the story takes a different, more realistic approach. Rather than to portray the two men left behind to watch over Glass (renamed Zach Bass in this version) as evil incarnate, he makes Captain Henry the villain-- although villain is too melodramatic a word. Played by Hollywood legend John Huston as a cross between Ahab and an Old Testament God-figure, Henry is a harsh authoritarian without an ounce of compassion. When we first see him, in a scene that calls “Fitzcarraldo” (1982) to mind, he is standing on the deck of a boat being hauled by 22 mules overland to the Missouri River. The white-bearded captain looks down at the men riding alongside on horseback as if he were the Almighty Himself, and he runs the expedition as if he were. When he learns Bass is injured, he not only orders the party to leave him behind, he tells Fogarty (Percy Herbert playing a fictionalized version of Fitzgerald) and Lowrie (Dennis Waterman) to stay with him until morning and kill him if he is still alive by then. He tells them to say some words over him. “Say ‘he fought life all his life,’” he instructs them. “`Now his fight is with you, God.’ I reckon that’s where he figured it always was.”

The captain had good reason to know of Bass’s defiant attitude toward religion. He raised Bass from boyhood after finding him stowed away on his ship, which makes his decision to leave him behind even more inhuman. In a series of flashbacks that ripple through Bass’s mind as he recovers from his wounds and regains his strength, we learn what turned young Zack Bass against God and religion. When his mother died of cholera on board a ship and is about to be buried at sea, he’s told by a priest that cholera is God’s punishment for sin and that her death “was God’s will.” When he’s told he must attend the funeral, young Zachary locks the door to his cabin and refuses to go on deck. Later in a classroom a stern, bearded minister grills the class on the question of who made man and why. When Bass refuses to answer the question, the minister smacks his hands with a wooden pointer over and over, shouting, “God made man, Bass. God made man.” But the boy remains stubbornly silent.

In another flashback, Bass’s young pregnant wife, tells him, “The Kingdom of Heaven is within you. And in the earth, and the sea. Have you never seen it? Never felt it?” He says, “No.” He says he doesn’t have much in common with God. He speaks to the unborn child in his wife’s womb, apologizing that he won’t be there when he’s born and for bringing him into a world that is “hell on earth.” The wilderness he struggles to survive in is as much spiritual as it is material.

The theme of spiritual revitalization was a subject that screenwriter Jack De Witt focused on more than once in his writing. His scripts for the “A Man Called Horse,” films, which also starred Richard Harris, and especially “The Return of a Man Called Horse,” were about a man, and a people, who had lost their spiritual identity. In “Return” Captain John Morgan finds life in England stultifying after having lived in America with the Yellow Hand Sioux. He returns and finds the tribe decimated and demoralized after white trappers took their land and killed many of their people. It is only when Morgan and the tribe’s survivors participate in the grueling Sun Dance Ceremony, that they regain their identity and the spirit to fight again.

In “Wilderness” a subtler transformation occurs, when Bass, alone and on the trail of the expedition that left him behind, encounters a small group of “Rickaree’s” (the name the trappers called the Arikara) in a forest. He hides behind a tree as a squaw dismounts near him and squats in childbirth. Seeing the mother and the newborn infant, he cannot help but think of the son he never met, and it’s as though for a moment he gets a glimpse of the “heaven within” that his wife spoke of. It’s the story’s turning point.

“Man in the Wilderness” is an uncompromising film. Just as it refuses to paint its characters as black and white stereotypes, it also provides no easy answers to the questions it poses. Sarafian and DeWitt don’t sugar coat anything. Life in the wild is presented as a constant battle for survival. Starving, Bass finds a bison being devoured by wolves. Unable to walk, he crawls on hands and knees, beats the wolves off with a stick, and takes a chunk of bloody raw meat and eats it. There’s’ no respite from the harshness of frontier life. Even when a bird flies overhead, Bass looks up at the blue sky only to see a hawk pouncing down on it. The Arikaras are depicted as killers, and any encounter with them will cost a white man his life. And yet when they find Bass unconscious and near death, they leave him alone, because of an amulet left on his body by the expedition’s Indian guide. And later when Bass is well and they meet again, the Arikara chief (Henry Wilcoxon) evinces admiration and a liking of the fur trapper’s courage and ability to survive.

Warner Archive has done a good job transferring “Man in the Wilderness to a 1080 p Blu-Ray. It was filmed in the mountains of Spain and Arizona by Gerry Fisher, and his cinematography is shown on the disc to full advantage. The film in presented in wide screen 2.41:1 aspect ratio with DTS HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono. The picture quality is very good, but it’s too bad there wasn’t a stereo soundtrack available. Presumably. like a lot of films in the 70s, it was shot in mono. The sound is definitely lacking in bass and the high frequencies are a bit shrill—the only drawback to an otherwise very good Blu-Ray. A theatrical trailer is the only extra.

Bottom line: “Man in the Wilderness” is a definite must-have. One of the rare things that come out of Hollywood only occasionally—a film that tries to tell it like it is.

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John M. Whalen is the author of "This Ray Gun for Hire...and Other Tales." Click here to order from Amazon.  

BY FRED BLOSSER

“One Million Years B.C.” (1966) with Raquel Welch was sufficiently profitable for Hammer Films that producer Aida Young and studio executive Anthony Hinds were incentivized to create a sequel. In final analysis, “When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth” (1970) seems more a reboot of the earlier movie than a sequel to it. Victoria Vetri, who had been Playboy’s Playmate of the Year in 1968 as “Angela Dorian,” succeeded Welch as the female lead, and Jim Danforth took over the FX role from the otherwise occupied Ray Harryhausen, with assistance from David Allen and others. Filming began in October 1968 but post-production FX work delayed final completion and release for two years, probably sinking any publicity value from Vetri’s Playmate fame. The picture opened in the U.K. in October 1970, in western Europe in January 1971, and Stateside in March 1971 from Warner Brothers-Seven Arts. The European print ran 100 minutes and included a few frames of fleeting nudity and implied sex. The skin was negligible by today’s premium-cable standards but apparently deemed unfit for small-town moviegoers in the Nixon era. Warner-Seven Arts deleted the nudity from the U.S. edit and secured a “G” rating for the kiddie audience. The film had a brief life in drive-ins, but wider exposure followed in syndicated TV airings in the ‘70s and ‘80s.

The first home-video releases of “When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth” were simultaneous editions from Warner Home Video in 1991, in formats now as extinct as the dinosaurs themselves, VHS and Laser Disc. Both products were struck from the rated-G print. I paid the $59.95 asking price for the VHS cassette and probably would have sprung for the Laser Disc too, had I owned a player at the time. I was glad to have the movie in a form that I could watch at leisure in those days before streaming video and Netflix, when local video stores rarely carried such second-tier titles for rental. A DVD edition appeared in 2008 as a two-fer with Hammer’s “Moon Zero Two,” retailed through Best Buy. The DVD created a brief stir because the unrated European print had been used as the source, supposedly by accident, even though the case carried the “G” rating. The new Blu-ray from Warner Archive Collection also is sourced from the European print, but this time the case warns (or teases, depending on your perspective) that it is the “International Theatrical release version which contains nudity.”

The opening credits attributed the “screen treatment” for the film to critically acclaimed writer J.G. Ballard, misspelled onscreen as “J.B. Ballard,” and the screenplay to British science fiction, horror, and thriller veteran Val Guest, who also directed. The respective accounts of Ballard and Guest are sketchy and inconsistent as to what each writer contributed to the final product. Such as it is, the story isn’t bad -- even in 1971, you didn’t go to a movie titled “When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth” expecting dramatic complexity -- although it mostly serves to fill time between the appearances of Danforth’s gorgeous stop-motion dinosaurs.

Set of three door panels displayed in theaters during theatrical release.

Sanna (Vetri) is one of six young blonde maidens chosen by the fanatical chief of the prehistoric Mountain tribe, Kingsor (Patrick Allen), as human sacrifices to appease the tribal sun god for recent celestial unrest. Little do the primitive tribesmen know, but the tremors on earth and in heaven that scare them are caused by the formation of the Moon separating from Earth, not by divine displeasure. Sanna escapes in a sudden windstorm, falls into the sea, and is rescued by Tara (Robin Hawdon), a young fisherman from the neighboring Shore tribe. At the Shore village, where tribespeople are trying to tie down an unruly plesiosaur, Tara’s girlfriend Ayak (Imogen Hassell) becomes jealous of Sanna, who flees again when Kingsor comes to reclaim her. Chases, escapes, and more dinosaurs ensue, including a charming if biologically unlikely subplot in which a mama dinosaur and her baby welcome Sanna into their family after mistaking her for a newly hatched sibling. Where the earlier movie closed with a catastrophic volcano eruption, Guest’s ends with the tide receding an unnatural distance, leaving a bleak mud flat from which a giant crab emerges (the surrealistic mud flat seems to have been Ballard’s idea), and then roaring back again in a biblical deluge generated by the newly condensed Moon. In another charming touch, a raft carrying Sanna, Tara, and their friends Ulido (Magda Konopka) and Khaki (Drewe Henley) washes gently to rest on a matte-painting cliff in the final scene after the flood subsides and dawn breaks.

Many fans seem to feel that the casting of “When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth” is inferior to the earlier movie’s, but Vetri holds her own in the lead. The script gives her more to do than “One Million Years B.C.” demanded of Welch, and she delivers. She has screen presence and she looks great in skimpy togs that accentuate her impressive physical attributes. Hammer clearly understood that sexy outfits sell tickets at the box office, even in movies whittled down to a family-friendly rating. It’s a strategy still employed today by moviemakers, more than forty-five years later: case in point, the ads for the new PG-13 action movie “Ghost in the Shell,” which place Scarlett Johansson’s generous curves in a skin-tight body stocking front and center. Hawdon, Allen, and Hassell support Vetri with plucky, straight-faced performances. That may be the most anyone can ask of actors who are required by the script to strip down to their skivvies and talk in made-up Stone Age language. Fans of modern CGI may disagree, and probably will, but the dinosaurs designed and animated by Danforth and his associates have more heft and personality than anything in the recent, expensive blockbusters “Kong: Skull Island” (2017) and “Jurassic World” (2015). The music by Mario Nascimbene, the maestro of biblical and Viking soundtracks, adds a measure of classic-cinema panache lacking in today’s mostly by-the-numbers action and fantasy scores.

The Warner Archive Collection Blu-ray is welcome as the latest iteration of “When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth” for the home market. The colors are strong, and the definition at a 1.78:1 aspect ratio is about as good as can be expected from older studio elements, short of a costly digital makeover. The disc includes the original movie trailer and, anticipating the needs of the target Boomer audience, English SDH captions. It’s questionable in this instance whether captioning is necessary, since the dialogue consists of fifteen or twenty nonsense Caveman words repeated over and over again, but it’s the thought that counts.

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BY DOUG OSWALD

Adolf Hitler shaped history in ways we are still coming to grips with to this day. Our understanding and interpretation of the devastation and evil he inflicted upon the world involves not only warfare but his impact on the lives of individuals who would become his victims. Some of his victims would become refugees, most prominently Jewish and political dissidents who would make their way to America and Hollywood. Their story is told in “Cinema’s Exiles: From Hitler to Hollywood” available on DVD by Warner Home Video.

Hitler’s devastation of Europe resulted in an influx of movie talent to America and their impact is extraordinary. The great German cinema brain drain started in the early 1930s and delivered a variety of cinematic exiles, Jews and non-Jews alike, who fled Nazi Germany to Vienna, Paris and London before making their way eventually to Hollywood. Fritz Lang, Henry Coster, Fred Zinneman and Curt Siodmak would join hundreds of other exiles after having their films banned or after being precluded from working in Germany. Franz Waxman, Billy Wilder and Peter Lorre fled to Paris and joined up with Henry Koster in 1933 before making their way to America.

The stories of these Hollywood legends began in the silent era in Germany where the new aspects of cinema dominated the world with innovative visual style, techniques and story telling. German Expressionist use of light and shadow would be a major influence on Hollywood horror, film noir and comedy for decades and continues to influence filmmaking to this day. Hitler’s cronies tried to coax a few of them, notably Fritz Lang to head the German film industry and make movies for Nazi Germany, Lang and the rest would have none of this and left for America.

Written, directed and produced by Karen Thomas and narrated by Sigourney Weaver, this documentary combines archival interviews with contemporary voice actors portraying various filmmakers and actors in the tradition of television documentaries like Ken Burns’ “The Civil War.” Reading personal letters and movie production notes, the technique is very effective and brings these filmmakers to life as they work to find success in Hollywood. Movie greats from Marlene Dietrich and Paul Henreid to Ernst Lubitsch and Billy Wilder are also depicted using archival footage, film clips, home movies, photos and recordings to not only tell their struggles to adapt to American culture, but how they would influence Hollywood movies for decades to come. Many were not able to achieve the same level of success they had in Germany. Others shaped Hollywood and the movie industry for decades.

Weaver’s narration brings the stories of these exiles to life in a fashion that will be appreciated by movie buffs and casual movie fans alike. Imagine if these exiles had not made it out of Hitler’s Europe. Imagine the loss to not just American culture, but to the world. Imagine not having Franz Waxman’s score for “The Bride of Frankenstein.” Thankfully we have the gift of Waxman’s score and (to use one of my favorite directors as an example) Billy Wilder movies. This documentary brings to life the stories of some of the exiles in the movie industry who escaped the greatest tyranny in history.

“Cinema’s Exiles: From Hitler to Hollywood” is available on DVD by Warner Home Video as part of their Archive Collection and is a burn to order release. The picture quality is terrific considering the age of much of the photos, home movies and movie clips. This fascinating documentary was originally broadcast on PBS in 2009, clocks in at 117 minutes and makes for a very entertaining history lesson.

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BY DARREN ALLISON

The Entity 1982 Directed by Sydney j. Furie, Starring Barbara Hershey, Ron Silver, David Labiosa and George Cole. Eureka Blu-ray released: 15th May 2017.

Released theatrically in February 1983, The Entity was an impressive piece of fantasy horror. The film was based loosely on the story of Doris Bither and the events that took place in Culver City in 1974.

Academy Award nominee Barbara Hershey stars as Carla Moran, a hard-working single mother who, one terrible night is raped in her bedroom by someone or something that she cannot see. After meeting with sceptical psychiatrists, she is repeatedly attacked in her car, in the bath and in front of her children. Could this be a case of hysteria, a manifestation of childhood sexual trauma, or something even more horrific? Now, with a group of daring parapsychologists, Carla will attempt an unthinkable experiment: to seduce, trap and ultimately capture the depraved spectral fury that is The Entity.

Eureka Entertainment’s Blu-ray is presented in its original 2.35:1 ratio and is an improvement over previous DVD releases. However, The Entity, like many other 20^th Century Fox releases of the 1980s, does suffer from a rather unavoidable grainy picture. For some reason the major studios seemed to occasionally adopt this blatantly ‘soft-looking' style of film. Unfortunately, there doesn’t really appear to be any method of improving that look, and as a consequence, it is still evident on subsequent home video releases. Certain daylight scenes display an improved clarity but of course, a great deal of The Entity’s scenes occur at night or within dimly lit internal sets. Blacks are far from solid or deep and instead display a milky grey quality with varying degrees of density. Another disadvantage of darker scenes is that it shows up several flaws such as dust or speckle. These imperfections are also evident, mainly in earlier scenes rather than later where these flaws noticeably begin to improve. Nevertheless, you are left wondering if The Entity has received any form of remastering? The film’s colour palette retains a slightly dull and flat appearance, which is a shame as it is such an enjoyable movie. The audio is both clear and punchy – elements of which help compliment Charles Bernstein’s chilling and memorable score.

Sadly, Eureka’s Blu-ray provides very little in terms of extras. There’s a relatively short theatrical trailer which has to be said, is of poor quality. Eureka actually produced a new HD trailer for promotional purposes (see below) and is available to view on Youtube. It’s even shorter than the theatrical trailer, but sharply cut and includes some different dramatic music. It might have been an idea to also include this on the disc as it would of least provided fans of the film just that little bit more for their enjoyment.

Given the poor quality of previous DVD releases, many admirers of the movie may feel that an upgrade to the Blu-ray format is essential. However, to the casual viewer, it may arguably be worth holding on to that DVD for just a while longer. https://www.eurekavideo.co.uk/

BY DARREN ALLISON

City of the Dead (AKA Horror Hotel) 1960 Directed by John Llewellyn Moxey, Starring Christopher Lee, Patricia Jessel, Venetia Stevenson, Betta St. John and Dennis Lotis. Arrow 2 disc Blu-ray and DVD released: 24th April 2017

When filming began on The City of the Dead, Christopher Lee was already established as a leading horror star. Hammer was paving the way with a new brand of horror and Lee had played a huge part in their success playing the Frankenstein monster, Dracula and the Mummy. The City of the Dead provided the perfect opportunity for Lee to spread his wings further within the genre by moving into the realms of witchcraft, the occult and American gothic.

Set in a small New England village (and hardly a city as the title suggests), Lee plays Professor Driscoll, an authority on the occult who persuades one of his students Nan Barlow (Venetia Stevenson) to research his hometown of Whitewood, once the site of witch burnings in the 17th century. Booking herself into the Raven’s Inn, she soon learns that devil worship among the locals hasn’t been consigned to the past.

The City of the Dead has just about everything working for it. Firstly, it is drenched in atmosphere and reminiscent of those beautifully crafted movies produced a decade earlier by the likes of Val Lewton and his films for RKO. Fog shrouded and shadowy dark sets provide the perfect backdrop for this hugely enjoyable and extremely well made film. The film also benefits from a great production team, a blossoming partnership consisting of future Amicus founders Milton Subotsky and Max Rosenberg. In terms of its technical spec, The City of the Dead is a genuine delight on the senses. Arrow’s stunning transfer captures all of Desmond Dickinson’s sumptuous monochrome photography rather beautifully. Boasting a pin sharp picture with lovely deep blacks and a wonderful balance in contrast, this new 4K digital restoration (by the Cohen Film Collection and the BFI) is as close to perfection as you are likely to see. The sound is also clean (and untampered) presented in uncompressed mono 1.0 PCM Audio. It’s a wonderful viewing experience, and a welcome change considering the film falls into the public domain category, which, as a result has seen many inferior releases over the years. The City of the Dead is an extremely important film, so it’s nice to finally see it receive the treatment it so fully deserves.

BY JEREMY CARR

It’s easy to see why Orson Welles’ Chimes at Midnight is generally regarded as his finest post-Touch of Evil achievement. This Shakespearean mélange is a dazzling showcase for Welles’ ingenuity, his evident appreciation for the film’s literary foundation, and his relentless aptitude for stylistic inventiveness. However, its haphazard production and its rocky release comprise a backstory as complicated as the movie’s multi-source construction (the script, based on the lengthy play “Five Kings,” written and first performed by Welles in the 1930s, samples scenes and dialogue from at least five of Shakespeare’s works, primarily “Henry IV,” parts one and two, “Richard II,” “Henry V,” and “The Merry Wives of Windsor”). Plagued by what were at this point familiar budgetary constraints, Welles shot Chimes at Midnight over the course of about seven months in Spain, with a break when the financial well went dry. When the film was finally released in 1966, premiering at the Cannes Film Festival, it won two awards and was nominated for the Palme d’Or. Unfortunately for Welles, that was as good as it was going to get. Less amenable critics, audiences, and, perhaps most importantly, distributors, relegated the film to its decades-long status as an underseen vision from a used-to-be-great American master, one who actually thought it to be his best film. Recent years have seen a sharp turnaround, though, and when a new Janus Films restoration played in New York earlier this year, it was enough to give this extraordinary work the boost it needed. Following a series of theatrical screenings, the revaluation and re-appreciation of Chimes at Midnight has culminated in a stellar Blu-ray release from the Criterion Collection.

As the film begins, Falstaff (Welles) is navigating his fatherly-friend relationship with Prince Hal (Keith Baxter), who is conflicted in his loyalty to his real father, King Henry IV (John Gielgud). In the meantime, rival Henry “Hotspur” Percy (Norman Rodway) joins others in a plot to overthrow the king, in retaliation for his brutal usurping of power from Richard II. The ensuing drama is a complex web of political intrigue and wartime struggle, balanced against the more intimate themes of betrayal, friendship, family, and responsibility.

As the main character, a riotous, bulbous, crass and somehow still charming nobleman, Welles gives one of his most grandiose and memorable performances. In an interview on the Criterion disc, historian Joseph McBride says it is “by far his greatest,” while in an accompanying essay, Michael Anderegg writes, “Welles’s star performance as Falstaff is one of his finest, tempering an unfettered exuberance with touching vulnerability, his facial expressions and the modulations of his voice projecting a cunning watchfulness at one moment and an openness to all of life’s possibilities the next.” The slovenly outcast—rather “pathetic” according to scholar James Naremore in his commentary track—is nevertheless ambitious, scheming, and wisely opportunistic. Obviously reveling in such meaty material, Welles plays Falstaff with a touching sympathy and a witty pomposity, best juxtaposed when he is pranked and ridiculed by Hal and Poins (Tony Beckley) in one scene, while in the next, his steadfast penchant for bluster and exaggeration fails to waver in the face of shame. Unlike many of the other individuals featured in the film, in Welles’ stage play, and in the various Shakespearean texts, Falstaff has no historical grounding, which really doesn’t matter. He was a popular character in Shakespearean times, always good for a laugh, and in Chimes at Midnight, he is similarly appealing as an endearing, comic individual.

While Welles is the clear figure of prominence, Chimes at Midnight is abounding in contrasting character types and a corresponding diversity of performance. From a delightfully raucous Jeanne Moreau as Doll Tearsheet and a rigidly formal Gielgud as Henry IV, to Marina Vlady as Kate Percy and Fernando Rey as Worcester, Chimes at Midnight boasts an exceptional cast with varying presentational styles. In scenes of bawdy drunken revelry, where the words “grotesque” and “bodily humor” come to mind (or at least they do in Naremore’s commentary), or in those sequences distinguished by stoic primness, the actors all breathe exuberant air into what could have easily strayed into the stolid territory of textbook Shakespearean drama.

Leading the charge is, of course, Welles. Under his tenacious direction, Chimes at Midnight is a stunning assembly of formal brilliance and a masterfully arranged adaptation, Welles’ inspired restructuring of the Shakespearean text a testament to his familiarity with the subject. But even if he personally oversaw details that could have been merely assigned (sketching the costumes himself, for instance), Welles, especially in this film, benefitted greatly from key collaborators. Edmond Richard, his cinematographer on The Trail (1962) (who would later do excellent work with Luis Buñuel), production designer Mariano Erdoiza (his only credit in such a role), and set decorator Jose Antonio de la Guerra all work to contribute invaluable visual detail to the film. The Boar’s Head tavern is a dingy and squalid retreat, a wooden structure that organically pulsates to the rhythms of its rowdy clientele, while the King’s castle is a looming stone chamber that, even in its sealed-off reserve, still yields vivid shafts of light. To see just how these differing sets impact character interaction, one need only to again go back to Welles’ portrayal of Falstaff. In the tavern, a congenial, boozing Falstaff (the “king of winos,” according to McBride), holds court as a larger than life figure, yet he awkwardly seems pinned within the building’s narrow walls. “In a partly self-referential gesture—he was always struggling with his weight—Welles goes out of his way throughout the film to emphasize Falstaff’s sheer mass,” writes Anderegg, “his huge figure often dominating the frame.” By contrast, at the castle, Falstaff is dwarfed by the enormity of the structure and is reduced to being a disregarded shape amongst the masses. In any location, though, Richard and Welles manage to strike just the right visual balance of high-contrast black and white photography and precise camera placement, which is nearly always conducive to a general impression of tone, character stature, and narrative weight (nobody uses a low angle quite like Welles).

Aside from the setting distinction between the castle and the tavern, Chimes at Midnight further builds on contrasting imagery. Close quarters crammed with the bobbing heads of onlooking bystanders (many of whom were non-professional chosen by Welles simply for the way they look) are countered by wide sweeping natural arenas, like the setting of the Gadshill robbery, which is itself an open patchwork of horizontal movement (Welles freely tracking through the forest) and vertical expanse (it is a forest defined by pillaring sun-kissed trees). The Battle of Shrewsbury, the most famous sequence from Chimes at Midnight, is similarly assembled from juxtaposition, of speed, shot size, duration, and position. It’s an extraordinarily well-orchestrated battle scene, an Eisensteinian montage of quick cutting and movement textured by what Naremore points out as a Fordian incorporation of atmospheric detail: wind, cloud cover, muddy terrain, etc.

With so much visual stimulus, the emotional resonance of Chimes at Midnight can potentially get lost in the crowd. By the time Hal comes to power and appears to brush aside the pitiably loyal Falstaff, the creeping sadness that went along with the dejected giant’s tragic optimism has become a potent, painful betrayal—“The king has killed his heart,” says one observer. This is a film heavily preoccupied with looming death and, worse yet, the fear of irrelevance. Everyone’s lives are at stake in this tumultuous period, but what concerns many more than that, particularly Falstaff, is the realization of not being wanted or needed. Surely some of this was reflective of Welles at the time. Pushing forward in the face of little money, limited technology, and an often unreceptive audience, he continued to make films on his own terms, as best he could (which was still as good if not better than anyone else). If Chimes at Midnight subsequently took longer than hoped to be given a proper restoration and distribution, so be it. Better late than never.

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES!

By Lee Pfeiffer

The release of Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds has thrust Enzo G. Castellari, the director of the Italian WWII pic that inspired it, back into the spotlight. This has resulted in a re-examination of his work, which has been relegated to cult status outside of his native Italy. Severin Films, which is fast becoming a major source of first-class presentations of otherwise neglected films, is honoring Castellari with the U.S. home Blu-ray edition of the director's 1969 WWII adventure Eagles Over London. Even fans of Castellari's Inglorious Bastards (note the spelling difference for the Tarantino version), probably are unfamiliar with this ambitious, relatively big budget 1969 film that was a hit in Italy, but was virtually unseen in America or England. Thanks to Severin, and Tarantino, who continues to champion Castellari's work, the movie can finally be seen and judged by English-language audiences. The film is highly impressive on all levels and one realizes the frustration that Castellari must have felt in having his achievement virtually unseen outside of mainland Europe. 

BY DARREN ALLISON

“Pieces” (Mil Gritos Tiene La Noche) 1982 Directed by Juan Piquer Simón, Starring Jack Taylor, Christopher George, Lynda Day George, Frank Braña and Paul Smith. Arrow 3 disc Blu-ray, DVD and CD.

Arrow continue to satisfy our hunger for classic slasher movies with their latest release "Pieces" (1982), a classic slice of sickening nostalgia which emerged during the height of the video nasty era.

A Boston college campus is being terrorised by a black-clad maniac who collects body parts from his unfortunate co-ed victims. As the corpses (and red herrings) begin to pile up, can Professor Brown (genre veteran Jack Taylor) unmask the murderer before his morbid puzzle is complete?

Fans of the genre should be incredibly pleased with the treatment given to this three disc collector’s edition. Let’s be clear from the outset, “Pieces” is not the best directed movie you’ll ever see. Director Juan Piquer Simón, a native of Valencia, Spain, began his career working in advertising; he was a marketing man at heart. However, it’s a background that taught him everything regarding exploitation. Because of his career, Simón arguably constructed his films around the shock element, the all-important ‘money shots’ that fed his audience. Simón almost regarded plot and narrative as secondary, and instead focused on the essential elements, which in this case were the film’s outrageously gory set pieces.

One of the highlights of Arrow’s collection is the inclusion of the original uncensored cut of the film, Mil Gritos Tiene La Noche. It’s not, of course, because it is simply uncensored or because the gore factor is increased by a notch or two. It is purely because the original Spanish language version stands up far better than its U.S. dubbed counterpart which suffers quite dreadfully in translation. Thankfully, Arrow has intelligently covered all corners by including both versions of the film and allowing for the individual’s preference.

In terms of quality, the film benefits hugely from a brand new restoration in glorious 4K. Colours are rich and vibrant and look exceptionally good for a film of its age and in consideration of its tight production budget. The audio tracks (presented in original English and Spanish mono) are also clear and sharp with no evidence of hiss or distortion.

Digging deep into this collection reveals an awful lot of treats, especially in the audio department. The inclusion of Mil Gritos Tiene La Noche, which is exclusive to the Blu-ray, also features the original score by Librado Pastor. There is also an option to hear an alternative music only re-score by composer Umberto. Switching to “Pieces” (the U.S. version) enables you to experience an entirely different score consisting of various composers such as Stelvio Cipriani and Carlo Maria Cordio. There is also a separate audio CD included within this package containing the original score with 16 tracks and lasting 36 minutes. This appears to be an expanded version over the 14 track LP debut which ran for 28 minutes and was released in Switzerland in 2015. There is also an enjoyable and informative audio commentary by horror and slasher loving podcasters The Hysteria Continues featuring Joseph Henson, Justin Kerswell, Erik Threlfall, and Nathan Johnson. These guys really know their subject, and its inclusion here is a very welcome feature. If all of these audio options are not enough, you can also watch the film with the 5.1 Vine Theatre Experience, a rather curious addition allowing you to watch the film with the audience audio which was recorded when the film was shown at the Vine Theatre in August, 2002. As I said, it’s a curious one which doesn’t really serve much of a purpose other than listening to audience reaction, if that’s your thing…

BY TIM GREAVES

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

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

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

BY HANK REINEKE

The cognoscenti will have no doubt noted this is the third home video resurrection of writer-director-co-producer Ted Newsom’s Flesh & Blood: The Hammer Heritage of Horror. Originally issued on VHS in 1999 as part of Anchor Bay’s ambitious and much welcomed “Hammer Collection” series, this affectionate documentary was subsequently ported over to DVD in 2004 by Image Entertainment, Inc. Both of those earlier releases shared a running time of some ninety-nine minutes. This comprehensive new version, curiously issued again on DVD rather than as an upgraded Blu, boasts of a “Digitally Remastered Expanded Director’s Cut.” This newest incarnation, as promised, has been expanded with an additional thirty-seven minutes of material. Whether or not the tighter original cut has been artistically or informatively superseded by this director’s cut is open to argument. While the new version is of more generous length, it must be said the story arc occasionally meanders, unnecessarily bloated by too-familiar footage culled from original trailers.

Regardless, this documentary is an essential item for fans of Hammer, thoughtfully outlining the studio’s metamorphosis from a small film distribution company to a vanguard of the British film industry. In the mid 1930s Hammer’s earliest successes were with such monochrome dramas as Songs of Freedom (with Paul Robeson) and mysteries as The Mystery of the Mary Celeste (with Bela Lugosi). Not surprisingly, it really wasn’t until after the country emerged from the rubble of WWII that the studio would hit a proper stride, adapting such popular British radio shows as Dick Baron: Special Agent as cinematic properties. But it wasn’t until the studio acquired the rights to bring Nigel Kneale’s popular science fiction BBC television series The Quatermass Experiment to the big screen in 1955 that Hammer’s course was set. The success of that film spawned a sequel and a knockoff which would signal what would follow. Beginning with The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), the studio would score with an influential and commercially successful string of science-fiction, fantasy and horror films. These successes cemented the studio’s reputation as Britain’s preeminent fright factory.

In that regard, Hammer had appropriated the mantle previously held by Universal Studios as the foremost purveyor of Gothic horror cinema. Though the studio was barred from utilizing Jack Pierce’s iconic make-up designs - as well as other Universal inventions protected by copyright – such public domain properties as Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein were free for an original and modern updating. If anything, the time was right for the torch of the angry villager to be passed on. Universal had all but abandoned their dependable stable of classic monsters, choosing instead to bring creatures of the atom-age to the screen. As Flesh & Blood astutely notes, Hammer would inadvertently rescue these monsters of folklore from the ignominy of their being mere slapstick foils to Abbott and Costello. With their distinctive trademark mix of splashy Technicolor, tawdry bloodletting, overt sexuality, and a battery of dreamy screen sirens (and unashamed displays of ample cleavage), the studio effectively reenergized interest in gothic-horror cinema.

To be sure, this is not an easy story to tell to satisfaction. Flesh & Blood bravely attempts to thoroughly document the sprawling history and trajectory of Hammer’s hits and misses, offering a score of first-person and genuinely interesting procession of candid talking-head interviews. The studio, as many of this film’s participants take great pains to point out here, was a business first and foremost. The producers were primarily interested in turning a tidy profit on their investment and productions were sometimes hobbled by miserly budgeting. Even in the studio’s halcyon days (1957-1972) most of the studio’s film projects – many pre-sold to distributors on little more than a colorful mock-up of an exploitative film poster – adhered to a tight six week shooting schedule.

As the principal photography of this documentary began as early as 1993, the pool of talent available for interview had not yet been thinned by time and age. In truth, there’s hardly a then-surviving veteran from behind or in front of Hammer’s cameras who isn’t interviewed or referenced in the film. In a particular masterstroke, the producers were able to enlist the studio’s two greatest and most iconic star players, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, to serve as principal narrators of the opus. It’s mostly Lee’s narration that carries the documentary forward, though the wasting, frail voice of a clearly ailing Peter Cushing also bravely serves in this capacity.

Skillfully interweaving interviews, home movies, trailers, vintage newsreels, stock footage, photographs, promotional materials, and elements sourced from television archives, we are introduced to the surviving men and woman who served as the studio’s primary movers and shakers. Those sharing behind-the camera memories are Michael Carreras, Anthony Hinds, Roy Ward Baker, Don Sharp, Freddie Francis, Aida Young, Jimmy Sangster, Richard Matheson, and composer James Bernard amongst others. Among those who appeared on the silver screen and were happy to share their insights and warm recollections are the bosomy starlets who were the epitomes of “Hammer Glamour:” Ingrid Pitt, Martine Beswick, Caroline Munro, Hazel Court, Raquel Welch, and Veronica Carlson.