BY MARK MAWSTON

In the music scene of the 60’s you had two bands that stood on their own: the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. In films of the same period and into the early 70s, Amicus and Hammer were the Beatles and the Stones of the horror film genre. At their best, both reflected the popular tastes of era as it pertained to movies of this type. The early 70s saw creative highlights. With Hammer it was the Carmilla trilogy, Vampire Circus, Captain Kronos and, with Amicus, we had the splendid portmanteau films which had started with Dr Terrors House of Horrors and reaching their creative peak at the beginning of the new decade. Two of the company’s best efforts are now released by Second Sight on Blu-ray as stand-alone discs after appearing as part of a boxed set last year, The House That Dripped Blood and Asylum-the keystones on which Amicus based their famous trilogy of Tales from The Crypt, The Vault of Horror and From Beyond The Grave, all of which have huge cult followings to this day.

The difference between the Beatles and the Stones was that they looked and sounded very different whereas Amicus and Hammer tended to cross pollinate in the public perception. This is probably due to the fact that Amicus used many of the actors who had made their name at Hammer, such as Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing and Ingrid Pitt, yet it was Amicus that offered Cushing some of his most memorable roles, which is another one of the reasons why these films are held in great affection by fans. Who can ever forget Cushing’s transformation as Arthur Grimsdyke from Tales from The Crypt, for example? The main difference between the two was that Amicus was more hex than sex, driven by its producers to make their films more family friendly, as in The House That Dripped Blood, though that didn’t make any of the Robert Bloch portmanteau films any less scary, as in Asylum.

Although The House That Dripped Blood is seen by many critics as the best of the Amicus portmanteau films, its 1972’s Asylum that has always held a special place in my heart and is still to this day one of my favourite horror films ever, mainly due to The Weird Tailor segment (again featuring Cushing) which simply terrified me as a child, in the same way the similar- looking Autons had done in Dr. Who. Perhaps it’s just down to the fact that mannequins were something I’d see in every store front window when my Mum dragged me shopping, as opposed to vampires or killer plants. It’s the things from the real world transferred to the reel world that frighten you most when you’re a kid and I couldn’t walk past our local Burton’s department store windows for ages without cupping my hands over my eyes to avoid seeing the snappy 70s style suits on display on those mustachioed tailor’s dummies. (Looking back, I’d probably do the same, as those big collared and flared nylon suit styles now look just as frightening without the mannequins!) The main difference with these new Blu-ray releases, bar the great transfers, is the wonderful artwork that adorns their covers by legendary horror poster artist Graham Humphreys. These covers also appear in his latest movie poster book, Hung, Drawn and Executed, that I recommend all horror fans to add to their collections. It contains images that will have the collector salivating.

As a horror poster collector myself, I always found the original 1970s quads and one sheet posters lacking when it came to these two iconic titles. So with that in mind, I asked Graham how he approached both of these cult classics when it came to designing the reversible covers on the new Blu-ray releases.

‘The House that Dripped Blood’ and ‘Asylum’ are two films that are hardwired into my brain. Like all the Amicus anthology films, each has its strengths and weaknesses, but remain totally entertaining, packed with unforgettable images and characters.

It’s always a dilemma when presented with such well-loved genre films, how to approach the subjects to meet the expectations of the customer. In each instance, the original posters are well known, but my job is to provide an alternative. With anthologies, you either try to make a visual summary using the wrap-around theme, or attempt to portray all the content within.

Watching the films with fresh eyes, it struck me how powerful the character performances had grown. I wanted to celebrate the raft of fantastic actors that embody all the breadth and eccentricities of UK acting talent, still towering above the self-obsessed, surgically enhanced, botoxed mediocrity of current mainstream screen candy.

Faces that are etched with pain, abandon, addiction and cunning... these are what made these films so visceral and compelling, that’s why I decided to focus on the faces rather than settings, props or symbolism. It’s a dark parody of ‘heads-in-the-sky’ photocomps, delivered in graveyard colours with funeral pomp.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

In the 1997 comedy "Gone Fishin", Joe Pesci and Danny Glover were reunited on screen following their appearances in two sequels to "Lethal Weapon" (they would appear in a third sequel the following year.) Disney had high hopes for the family comedy but production problems plagued the film from the beginning. The original director, Oscar winner John G. Avildsen filmed for the first two weeks before he was fired by the studio and replaced by Christopher Cain. The script had been kicking around for quite some time as Disney approached various other actors to top-line before settling on Pesci and Glover. During production, a stunt went awry and resulted in the death of stuntwoman Janet Wilder as well as injuries to her team members, husband Scott and father-in-law Glenn. Disney then shelved the finished production for almost a year before transferring distribution to their Hollywood Pictures branch. The film had gone significantly over budget, coming in at at astounding $53 million-  a significant sum in those days for a modest comedy. (In comparison, the budget for the action blockbuster "GoldenEye", filmed only a year before "Gone Fishin'", was $60 million.)

The story centers on two life-long friends, Newark, New Jersey natives Joe Waters (Pesci) and Gus Green (Glover) who are good-natured but dim-witted family men who are still trying to live down a boyhood act of carelessness when the dispensing of a single cigar ignited a nearby chemical plant. Every year, the hard-working blue collar guys look forward to their annual fishing trip. This year, they intend to travel from New Jersey to southern Florida where they can take in the sights of the Everglades. Things get off to a rocky start when a charismatic con-man and wanted murderer,  Dekker Massey (Nick Bramble) steals Joe's beloved relic of a car, leaving them stranded with their boat, which they begin to push down the highway. They are rescued by two young women (Rosanna Arquette and Lynn Whitfield, both under-used in the film), who coincidentally are pursuing Massey for swindling them. However, once Joe and Gus part company with the ladies, more misadventures follow until they are captured and threatened with death by Massey. They narrowly escape and the film climaxes with an elaborate chase involving air boats, cars and a helicopter.

"Gone Fishin'" is comedy distinguished only by the fact that it isn't even slightly funny. A film that is filled with sight gags requires a director with a light touch, but Christopher Cain only provides a lead foot. If a director of a slapstick comedy can't derive laughs from two idiots trapped in a cave with a menacing alligator, you've got a real problem. In fairness, one can sympathize with his plight. It is never ideal to be a director who is employed because a colleague was fired and there is no worse environment than a film set on which an accidental death has occurred. The real culprits are screenwriters Jill Mazursky Cody and J. J. Abrams (yes, that J.J. Abrams), who dreamed up a relentlessly unfunny, far-fetched scenario. Even the chemistry between Pesci and Glover is compromised by their character's annoying habit of constantly addressing each other by name. Virtually every sentence they speak to each other includes the monotonous repetition of hearing them use each other's first name. Glover supposedly confessed to doing the film simply for a quick paycheck. It isn't known what Pesci thought of the end result but let's just say he went into self-imposed retirement and made only a few more film appearances for the next two decades before thankfully reemerging with his superb performance in "The Irishman".  "Gone Fishin'" does have some impressive chase scenes in the Everglades but by then the damage is done. The film's entire gross never reached $20 million, making it a legitimate boxoffice bomb. Not helping matters was the fact that critics were unrestrained in their condemnation of the movie. If a fish rots from the head down, so does this movie about fishing, populated by notable  people who should have known better. Fortunately, most of them did enough fine work that the movie didn't damage their careers, though it's doubtful that current day icon J.J. Abrams wants this high on the list of career accomplishments.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray transfer looks great but whether you will ever be inspired to sample it depends on your penchant for indulging in masochism. The release contains the original trailer and trailers for other comedies.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

When "Billy Bathgate" went into production for Disney's Touchstone Pictures division, word-of-mouth was that filming was not going well. Today, such rumors would spread immediately but in the pre-internet age, information was largely confined to industry insiders and avid movie buffs who read the trade papers. The rumors were true. The project started out on a promising note, with noted playwright Tom Stoppard adapting E.L. Doctorow's source novel for the screen. Dustin Hoffman would star and the film would reunite him with director Robert Benton. The two men had both won Oscars for the 1979 Best Picture winner "Kramer vs. Kramer". What could go wrong? Turns out, plenty. The esteemed Doctorow let it be known that he felt Stoppard's screenplay didn't capture the essence of his novel and he distanced himself from the film even before production had wrapped. Hoffman and Benton didn't have a sentimental journey on the set, either, with the dreaded "artistic differences" emerging. Disney executives micro-managed aspects of the movie and insisted that a new ending be filmed at great expense, only to have the final cut revert to the original ending. The budget ultimately ballooned to $48 million (before marketing costs were even incurred), an extravagant amount in 1991. When the film opened, it was a major flop with both critics and audiences. There were occasional good reviews for individual contributors but in the aggregate, the movie's international grosses barely exceeded $15 million. Yet, as we've pointed out so many times in the pages of Cinema Retro, the fact that a film died at the boxoffice doesn't necessarily mean that it is an artistic failure and "Billy Bathgate" does have plenty of impressive aspects.

The film opens during the Depression in New York City with a disturbing scenario. A gangster named Bo Weinberg (Bruce Willis) is awaiting a terrible fate. He's on a boat heading into the waters off Manhattan, his hands tied to a chair and his feet encased in cement. Turns out he is the right-hand man to notorious gangster Dutch Schultz (Hoffman), who has found evidence that Bo has double-crossed him. Schultz delights in psychologically torturing Bo before adding insult to injury by forcing his girlfriend Drew Preston (Nicole Kidman) into a bedroom with her to be forced into sex acts. The entire scene plays out before the wide-eyed Billy Bathgate (Loren Dean), an up-and-coming teenager in Schultz's organization and someone who knows and likes Bo very much. But he knows that he will suffer the same fate if he takes pity on Bo. The scene switches into flashback mode. Billy, like most of his friends, is staring into an unpromising future of backbreaking work and impoverished living conditions. Aside from being charismatic and street-wise, he boasts a modest talent for juggling and performing slight-of-hand tricks. A chance encounter with notorious gangster Dutch Schultz allows him to demonstrate his juggling skills, much to Schultz's amusement (he hands Billy a $20 tip.) Encouraged by the opportunity, Billy finds a way to gain access to Schultz's offices, masquerading as a staffer who does janitorial duties. Schultz admires his moxie and offers him a legitimate job. Billy soon recognizes that Schultz has a dual personality. He can be funny, loyal and generous with his underlings, but he is also a sociopath who on a whim can turn into a violent killer. Billy knows that the only way to stay alive is to practice unquestioning fealty to Schultz. That discipline is hard to maintain when Drew, who has stayed on as Schultz's mistress, seduces Billy, leaving him to walk a fine line between indulging in his obsession for Drew and risking having his own feet placed in cement. As Schultz's crime empire begins to collapse due to increased federal investigations and indictments, the gangster becomes even more erratic, posing a threat to Billy and every one around him.

“THE BUM AND THE BOSS”

By Raymond Benson

As mentioned in Cinema Retro’s recent review of Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray release of Christmas in July, the fabulous Preston Sturges began his career in Hollywood as a sought-after screenwriter. In 1940, he sold his script, The Great McGinty (which had several alternate titles, including Down Went McGinty, the U.K. title of the movie when released there), for a measly $10 (some sources say it was only $1!) on the condition that he finally be allowed to direct. Paramount shrugged its collective shoulders and said, “Okay.”

Thus, The Great McGinty became the first picture directed by Sturges from his own script. The film also snagged him an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, the only Academy Award Sturges ever won (although he was double nominated again for the same award in 1944 for both The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek and Hail the Conquering Hero). Between 1940 and 1945, Preston Sturges was on fire, and then, inexplicably, his flame flickered out.

McGinty is a political comedy with an edge. Strikingly, as it’s a story of corruption in government, the picture is remarkably relevant today. Daniel McGinty (Brian Donlevy) is a bum who is down on his luck during the Great Depression. One day, he accepts pay to vote several times under assumed names for a mayoral candidate. “The Boss” (Akim Tamiroff), who is never named, is the powerhouse pulling the strings behind the scenes for the mayor (who wins the election). The Boss is taken with McGinty, although they constantly argue and even get into comedic violent scuffles in public. McGinty is awarded a position in the organization, and slowly McGinty makes his way through a corrupt political atmosphere all the way to becoming alderman, then mayor, and, finally, governor of the state. Along the way, he marries his secretary, Catherine (Muriel Angelus)—a wedding of “convenience” for both parties until they really do fall in love with each other. Shenanigans continue until the legal dam breaks, so to speak, and the house of cards tumble down.

It's all great fun, of course, but there is an underlying cynicism that bites. Sturges’ satire is indeed pungent here, in what could be the writer/director’s most pessimistic movie.

The rest of the cast is filled with the folks who became members of Sturges’ “stock company”—William Demarest, Jimmy Conlin, George Anderson, Harry Hayden, Esther Howard, Arthur Hoyt, George Melford, and several others whose faces we all know but whose names we often don’t.

Kino Lorber’s new 1920x1080p high definition restoration looks quite good in its glorious black and white. There are English subtitles for the hearing impaired, and the movie comes with an audio commentary by film historian Samm Deighan. Supplements include theatrical trailers for McGinty and other Lorber titles.

Seeing that Kino Lorber has already issued Christmas in July, here’s hoping that they continue to produce other Preston Sturges classics in the future. In the meantime, take The Great McGinty home and discover just how talented this writer/director really was.

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BY HANK REINEKE

OK, let’s start this review by stating an obvious and oft-repeated criticism. The actress Maria Montez was a skillful, if somewhat shameless, self-promoter; her primary asset wasn’t talent but beauty. In her desperate search for stardom, Montez arrived in New York City from the Dominican Republic, leaving behind an otherwise uncelebrated life as wife of a bank manager. Montez did a bit of modeling at first - even appearing in such widely-distributed magazines as LIFE - but a Hollywood career remained her primary target. She managed to secure a screen-test for RKO pictures, but was quickly scooped up by Universal in 1940 who thought her “exotic” features might prove useful to them. She mostly appeared as a supporting player in the years 1940-1941, but emerged in 1942 as a full-fledged star. She became, for a time, the “Queen of Technicolor,” an honor bestowed on her due to her appearances in a string of sumptuously photographed, escapist B-movie adventure entertainments.

Her first big taste of success followed her appearance in Arabian Nights (1942), but while she achieved top-bill status on the marquee, her on-screen time was unusually brief for a featured player. There was a reason for this, of course. The memories of many of the actors and filmmakers who worked with her would share similar reminiscences. Though they all agreed she photographed wonderfully, most conceded Montez simply couldn’t act or sing or dance. Her male admirers sitting in darkened theaters often felt cheated by the brevity of her screen time. But the softball roles assigned to her, to say it most politely, were purposefully undemanding as a matter of practicality. What Montez did possess, aside from her God-given beauty, was a combination of ego-centrism and moxey that was uncommon… even when measured against the copious self-regard exemplified by most of Hollywood’s most famous Divas.

With the provocative title of Cobra Woman, aficionados of Golden Age Horror might be seduced into thinking the flick is a borderline genre film.  It most certainly is not, the film having more in common with the chapter-serials of the 1940s than with the barrage of 65-minute second-feature chillers and mysteries that Universal would churn out with regularity.  The presence of Lon Chaney Jr. in the cast, not top-billed but still featured prominently in all of the film’s advertising, might also lead one into thinking this is a minor – if mostly forgotten - horror classic.  As the mysterious servant Hava, Chaney actually enjoys very little screen time and is given almost nothing to do aside from appearing menacing whenever on screen. 

Though Chaney flits in and out of the film, it is likely not a part he was particularly enamored of having been gifted; his character is little more than a hulking mute here, described as a “giant” by Sabu (Sabu Dastagir). Since he’s mute throughout Chaney is tasked to gesticulate to convey emotion and intention: it’s fair to say the actor is unable to convincingly pantomime in the style of his silent film star father, Lon Sr. This is not Lon Jr.’s fault, really, as his character is strictly one-dimensional. The actor may have been wasted in this role, but Chaney could hardly complain.  He would appear in no fewer than eight films release by Universal in 1944… with this one, arguably, being the least.

Though the dashing and handsome Jon Hall is at best dimly remembered by few others than fans of cult films of the 1940s and 1950s, his most famous roles were the ones in which he was paired (or, perhaps, saddled) with co-star Montez.  A former free-agent actor contracted by Universal, Hall was groomed to play the heroic leading man in such films as Invisible Agent (1942) and The Invisible Man’s Revenge (1944).  But his most memorable roles were played out here in the studio’s splashy Technicolor - but budget-strapped - adventure films.  He would eventually be paired with Montez in no fewer than six films.  

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

Los Angeles, CA – Shout! Factory pays homage to a legend with the Shout Select release of "Chuck Berry: Hail! Hail! Rock 'N' Roll" (Collector's Edition) on Blu-ray for the first time ever.

The unforgettable life and music of legendary rock pioneer Chuck Berry are celebrated in this landmark feature film, capturing a once-in-a-lifetime gathering of rock ‘n’ roll’s finest! In 1986, Keith Richards invited a roster of brilliant musicians to honor Chuck Berry for an evening of music to commemorate Berry’s 60th birthday, including performances by Eric Clapton, Robert Cray, Linda Ronstadt, Etta James, and Julian Lennon, along with archival footage of an unforgettable duet by Chuck and John Lennon.

A must-have for aficionados, this dynamite crowd pleaser from director Taylor Hackford (Ray, Against All Odds), and Stephanie Bennett, producer of Chuck Berry: Hail! Hail! Rock ‘N’ Roll and author of the new book Johnny B. Bad: Chuck Berry and the Making of Hail! Hail! Rock ‘N’ Roll, will keep your soul rocking all night long.

Customers ordering from shoutfactory.com will also receive a hardcover copy of "Johnny B. Bad: Chuck Berry and the Making of Hail! Hail! Rock 'N' Roll," signed by author Stephanie Bennett.

Special Features Include:

Introduction by director Taylor Hackford

54 minutes of rehearsal footage

The Reluctant Movie Star making-of documentary

Trailer

Witnesses to History documentary Parts 1 & 2

"Chuckisms" - a collection of classic Chuck Berry remarks

"The Burnt Scrapbook" - Chuck Berry reminisces over his musical memories with The Band’s Robbie Robertson

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

I admit to having a weakness for the "dirty cop" movies that were all the rage beginning with Bullitt in 1968 and extending through the mid to late 70s. Seemingly every major star wanted to be part of the genre, just as the spy film rage of the mid-1960s had everyone and their grandmother portraying a secret agent. The Super Cops, a 1974 MGM production, came at the end of the era in which stars such as Clint Eastwood, Gene Hackman, Roy Scheider, Al Pacino, Robert Duvall, Steve McQueen and John Wayne had portrayed anti-establishment law enforcement officers. The Super Cops has the key ingredients common to all these films: wisecracking hero(es), tone-deaf police brass who are either resistant to using innovative methods or are flat-out corrupt and gritty urban backdrops.  The Super Cops had the pedigree of being based on fact and a bestselling book by the titular heroes, New York City detectives David Greenberg and Robert Hantz whose daring and unconventional exploits earned them the nicknames of Batman and Robin. (The Batman connection extends into the marketing campaign of the feature film with a one sheet poster that emulated the Pow! Zap! graphics of the 1960s TV series.)  The pair became among the most decorated detectives in New York City Police Department history, but if you believe the script, these accolades were given reluctantly from police brass that despised their headline-grabbing antics.

The film benefits from the having been directed by Gordon Parks (Shaft). Parks, a former Life magazine photographer, was the first African-American to direct films for major studios. He was no auteur but Parks did have a true knack for conveying life in troubled urban communities. The film opens with Greenberg (Ron Liebman) meeting Hantz (David Selby) at police cadet school where their wiseguy ways of upstaging superiors alienates them from the powers-that-be and even fellow cops. Nevertheless, their unconventional methods result in high profile arrests- even if the niceties of due process are often ignored. The film rambles from one unrelated incident to another and this lack of a central antagonist or plot device results in a meandering feeling to the story line. Liebman and Selby are no Butch and Sundance but acquit themselves adequately. (Liebman has all the scene-stealing opportunities and Selby is presented primarily as straight-man). Much of the film has the feel of a TV movie, though it could just be that cheesy aspects of the production are simply a product of the time: ugly fashions, ugly haircuts, ugly, boxy cars, etc, all set to an equally cheesy score by the usually impressive Jerry Fielding. In the movie's most creative action sequence, Greenberg and Hantz pursue suspects through a condemned tenement high rise that is being destroyed at that very moment by a wrecking ball. As the film progresses, it takes on a slightly more serious tone that makes for a some more moderately compelling scenes, such as when Greenberg's attempt to infiltrate a drug mob goes awry. The main problem is that there is absolutely no background given to the two heroes. We learn nothing about their motivations or personal lives outside of the police force, which leaves them as opaque and superficial characters. The film does benefit from an inspired supporting cast that includes the always-watchable Pat Hingle, Dan Frazer as an opportunistic police lieutenant who supports Greenberg and Hantz for his own career purposes and Joe Sirola in a fine performance as an arrogant police sergeant. Sheila E. Frazier supplied the only sex appeal as a hooker with a weakness for Greenberg.

The Super Cops is no work of art but if you also have a weakness for dirty cop movies of the 70s, it's worth a look. The region-free DVD contains the original trailer.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

When it was published in 1955, John O'Hara's novel "10 North Frederick" became not only a bestseller but somewhat of a "must-read" sensation. Not surprisingly, Hollywood studios began a bidding war for the screen rights. Ultimately, 20th Century Fox prevailed by offering O'Hara the (then) astronomical fee of $300,000 and also agreeing to hire him as a screenwriter for three forthcoming films, though, ironically "10 North Frederick" was not among them. Spencer Tracy was wooed for the leading role and production was delayed to accommodate his schedule. However, he later dropped out of the film in order to star in "The Last Hurrah" for director John Ford. Fox then hired Gary Cooper, who was enthused about taking on one of the most controversial roles of his career.

The film opens (a la "Citizen Kane") with media reporting on the death of a significant man who had wealth and widespread political influence. The year is 1945 and the man is Joseph Chapin (Cooper), a prominent lawyer who had once been feted by the rich and powerful. Chapin was a mover and shaker and held significant sway over politics in the state of Pennsylvania. As dignitaries gather at his mansion to express their condolences to his widow Edith (Geraldine Fitzgerald), a more controversial scene is taking place upstairs in the bedroom of his son Joby (Ray Stricklyn) who is inebriated. His sister Ann (Diane Varsi) is trying to persuade him to join the mourners and express his love and admiration for their father. It's clear, however, that both Joby and Ann hold a substantial grudge against their mother, who they accuse of manipulating their father to improve her own ambitions and social status. The film then switches into flashback mode to unveil a story of an outwardly stable family that is, in fact. beset by dysfunction. Chapin is a soft-spoken, dignified man who is bamboozled by his wife to enter the race for Lt. Governor, calling in favors from the officials he has supported over the years in order to get the nomination. Chapin is in a loveless marriage but is unable to free himself from the willful Edith. Joby is pushed by his family to attend Yale and become a prominent lawyer but the young man rebels, drops out of school and ultimately finds a career in the military, much to the displeasure of his parents. Ann also rebels against the strict social structure her mother has kept her in and ultimately marries a charismatic musician (Stuart Whitman), having become recently pregnant. Edith persuades her husband to intervene and Joe alternately threatens and bribes the new groom into deserting Ann. The problem of her giving birth to a child conceived before marriage poses a problem for Edith's reputation among the lifted pinky set but the situation is resolved when Ann suffers a miscarriage. She ultimately moves into an apartment she shares with her good friend Kate Drummond (Suzy Parker). Things become even more complicated when Kate is seduced by Tom. The couple fall madly in love and Joe promises to divorce Edith before circumstances arise that throw these plans into disarray. The film concludes with Joby's emotional dressing down of his mother and her motives in front of her high society friends.

"10 North Frederick" was directed by Phillip Dunne, who also wrote the screenplay. He was a great enthusiast of O'Hara's novel but was accused of watering down controversial aspects (Ann's loss of the baby was due to an abortion in the book) as well as overplaying the love affair between Joe and Kate, a development that takes up the latter part of the film although on the printed page, it was a minor plot point. This is at heart a soap opera, although an admittedly engrossing one. It is packed with devious, scheming characters and if they all had southern accents, it might fit well into the canon of works by Tennessee Williams. Cooper gives a fine performance, playing against type as a man manipulated by his cold hearted wife. He's a decent fellow at heart who nonetheless doesn't always have the courage of his convictions. A key distraction is the fact that Cooper plays a 50 year-old man. In fact, he was 56 at the time and could easily have passed for being a decade older. The supporting cast is first-rate throughout but the production is hampered by the surprisingly cheesy production values. There are virtually no exteriors and the drab studio settings can't be saved by the crisp B&W cinematography of the esteemed Joseph MacDonald. There was also plenty of drama behind the scenes when Diane Varsi had to be hospitalized for a nervous breakdown, though she did manage to complete the film and managed to provide an excellent performance. For Cooper, the idea of playing a married man in a torrid affair must have brought back memories of his own relationship with actress Patricia Neal, who in real life suffered her own nervous breakdown when Cooper ultimately told her he would not leave his wife.

There are plenty of plot twists and devious goings-on among the principal characters, but "10 North Frederick" never rises to the heights it might have, given the talented people involved, which is why it might have deemed a commercial and critical failure. Still, it's never dull and makes for compelling viewing.

The Twilight Time Blu-ray provides an excellent transfer. The region-free disc has no bonus extras other than an isolated track for composer Leigh Harline's score. There is also an illustrated booklet with fine production notes by Mike Finnegan.

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BY FRED BLOSSER

In Quentin Tarantino’s “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood,” Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) accepts an offer to star in an Italian Western out of desperation. His days of TV fame are behind him, he needs a gig that will keep his name in lights, and no American studios are beating down his door. In real life, Chuck Connors’ lead role in Enzo G. Castellari’s 1968 Spaghetti Western, “Kill Them All and Come Back Alone,” was less an existential crisis like Rick’s than one more job in a long, busy career. If Connors was ever at risk of unemployment, you wouldn’t know it from his resume. Across four decades, he starred in four television series, had recurring parts in two others, and made prominent supporting appearances in more than a hundred other movies, series, and made-for-TV films. He was a solid actor who could credibly portray everything from tough but compassionate cops to the improbably tall, blue-eyed Apache chief in Geronimo (1962), to a backwoods yokel named “Superman” who’s comically mistaken for the real deal in the old George Reeves TV show.

In Castellari’s film, now available in a Blu-ray edition from Kino Lorber, Connors plays Clyde McKay, a master thief hired by the Confederate high command to steal a million dollars in gold from a Union fort during the Civil War. In Mission: Impossible style, he’s told that if he’s caught, he’s on his own. “The Confederate Army didn’t hire you and knows nothing about you.” To carry out the job, McKay forms a team of five outlaws with the usual specialties. Blade is a knife thrower. Dekker is an explosives expert. Bogard is a strong man. Hoagy is a crack shot. Kid is so boyish he makes today’s teen-fave Timothee Chalomet look like Harry Dean Stanton -- but don’t let that fool you, McKay advises; “he has one virtue -- he likes to kill and he’s good at it.” Captain Lynch (Frank Wolff), who devised the big heist, tells McKay that when he finishes the job with his five men, “kill them all and come back alone.” This seems like an odd command, even given the famously unfathomable workings of the military mind. If you have a crack team that’s successfully executed one impossible mission, wouldn’t you rather keep them around in case you need their skills again? But McKay accepts it with a cynical smile, perhaps confident that he’s wise not to trust Lynch, or maybe he realizes he’s simply a character in an Italian Western, a genre in which entire movies like this one were based on everyone in the story double-crossing everyone else. Anyway, logic probably wasn’t a big consideration for Castellari’s core U.S. audience of sleepy, stoned teenagers who would have caught “Kill Them All and Come Back Alone” as the final feature in an all-night, up-till-dawn quadruple-bill at the local drive-in in 1968.

For the rest of us, Castellari keeps the action moving so briskly and flamboyantly that we have little time to ponder fine questions of wartime ethics, even with the luxury of pause and rewind on home video. Right out of the starting gate, McKay and his commandos wreak havoc at a military base by pole-vaulting across roofs, jumping into wagons from second-story balconies, blowing up supply sheds, knocking other guys through bannisters to the floor below, and dropping a massive chandelier onto a bunch of troops who have obligingly congregated underneath. This pre-credit sequence turns out to be the team’s audition for Captain Lynch, and it’s followed by three other big, blow-em-up set pieces, interspersed with more fistfights, shootouts, and acrobatics than I could count. Where most American Westerns (and their stars) had gotten old and creaky by 1968, “Kill Them All and Come Back Alone” keeps its crew of stuntmen and stuntmen-turned-actors like Ken Wood (Blade) and Alberto Dell’Acqua (Kid) on the move. It’s silly and almost as exhausting as an hour on a Peleton, but not much more childish than the CGI fights in today’s Marvel Comics movies, even when Castellari’s stunt doubles go flying back from punches that clearly miss their chins by several inches.

The new Kino Lorber Blu-ray presents the movie in a superlative 4K restoration at the 2.35:1 Techniscope aspect ratio. Fans of escapist action movies will appreciate such care for an unpretentious Italian Western that would have been ignored by most critics, back in the day, as hardly a notch above a 42nd Street porno loop. The disc contains both the original, 100-minute Italian print (with English-language subtitles) and the dubbed, 99-minute version released to U.S. theaters. The loss of a minute doesn’t really compromise anything, and if you’re not turned off by the dubbed dialogue for the European actors, you may prefer the English-language track because there, Connors speaks in his own distinctive voice. Director and Spaghetti Western enthusiast Alex Cox contributes a feature-length audio commentary that’s informative and amusing in equal proportion. Cox notes the cumulative daffiness of the running, jumping, and falling stunts in the film, but he’s also appreciative of several technically complicated shots that Castellari and his crew mount with all the skill of a big-budget, A-list production. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray can be ordered HERE.

In Quentin Tarantino’s “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood,” Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) accepts an offer to star in an Italian Western out of desperation. His days of TV fame are behind him, he needs a gig that will keep his name in lights, and no American studios are beating down his door. In real life, Chuck Connors’ lead role in Enzo G. Castellari’s 1968 Spaghetti Western, “Kill Them All and Come Back Alone,” was less an existential crisis like Rick’s than one more job in a long, busy career. If Connors was ever at risk of unemployment, you wouldn’t know it from his resume. Across four decades, he starred in four television series, had recurring parts in two others, and made prominent supporting appearances in more than a hundred other movies, series, and made-for-TV films. He was a solid actor who could credibly portray everything from tough but compassionate cops to the improbably tall, blue-eyed Apache chief in Geronimo (1962), to a backwoods yokel named “Superman” who’s comically mistaken for the real deal in the old George Reeves TV show.

In Castellari’s film, now available in a Blu-ray edition from Kino Lorber, Connors plays Clyde McKay, a master thief hired by the Confederate high command to steal a million dollars in gold from a Union fort during the Civil War. In Mission: Impossible style, he’s told that if he’s caught, he’s on his own. “The Confederate Army didn’t hire you and knows nothing about you.” To carry out the job, McKay forms a team of five outlaws with the usual specialties. Blade is a knife thrower. Dekker is an explosives expert. Bogard is a strong man. Hoagy is a crack shot. Kid is so boyish he makes today’s teen-fave Timothee Chalomet look like Harry Dean Stanton -- but don’t let that fool you, McKay advises; “he has one virtue -- he likes to kill and he’s good at it.” Captain Lynch (Frank Wolff), who devised the big heist, tells McKay that when he finishes the job with his five men, “kill them all and come back alone.” This seems like an odd command, even given the famously unfathomable workings of the military mind. If you have a crack team that’s successfully executed one impossible mission, wouldn’t you rather keep them around in case you need their skills again? But McKay accepts it with a cynical smile, perhaps confident that he’s wise not to trust Lynch, or maybe he realizes he’s simply a character in an Italian Western, a genre in which entire movies like this one were based on everyone in the story double-crossing everyone else. Anyway, logic probably wasn’t a big consideration for Castellari’s core U.S. audience of sleepy, stoned teenagers who would have caught “Kill Them All and Come Back Alone” as the final feature in an all-night, up-till-dawn quadruple-bill at the local drive-in in 1968.

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