I
have long considered Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation to be his
greatest film. The story of a tortured sound recordist, Harry Caul (Gene
Hackman in arguably his greatest screen performance), a man who is disturbed by
the morality and ethics of his profession. He is secretly recording private
citizens in exchange for payment from companies with a vested interest in doing
so and whose actions have resulted in several deaths. The film was a long
gestating project that came about during a 1967 discussion the director had
with fellow director Irvin Kirshner about wiretapping and privacy intrusion.
Following the instant success of the release of The Godfather in March
1972, Mr. Coppola was only given the green light to make The Conversation
for Paramount Pictures after they begged him to direct The Godfather Part II.
One month after the public announcement was made about Mr. Coppola’s mysterious
next film, the Watergate burglary took place. It then came to light that then-President
Richard Nixon had knowingly recorded conversations in the White House,
specifically the Oval Office, as well as over the telephone, of everything regarding
news coverage of the burglary! Who could the public trust? The Conversation
would go on to win the Palme d’Or at the 1974 Cannes Film Festival and opened
in April 1974 in New York.
Alan
J. Pakula’s The Parallax View, released in New York on Wednesday, June
19, 1974, was one of several films, like The Conversation, to be
released during the post-Watergate era that dealt with systemic national
paranoia concerning the government. In the month of June alone, moviegoers were
treated to Blake Edwards’s The Tamarind Seed, Roman Polanski’s Chinatown,
and this thriller which concerns the mysterious workings of a faceless corporate
entity known as The Parallax Corporation which appears to be behind the assassinations
of political nominees regardless of which side of the aisle they sit on. It is
1971 and Charles Carroll (William Joyce) is campaigning while at a luncheon
atop Seattle’s Space Needle. Lee Carter (Paula Prentiss) is covering the event
for a television news story and her ex-boyfriend, newspaper reporter Joe Frady
(Warren Beatty), attempts to gain access to the event but is denied entry when
Carter shrugs him off. An associate of Carroll’s, Austin Tucker (William
Daniels), speaks with Carter in a short on-camera interview. Two
sinister-looking waiters (Bill McKinney and Richard Bull) serve food when
suddenly the former shoots and kills Carroll in front of shocked and horrified
guests. A stomach-churning chase ensues atop the Space Needle and the “waiterâ€
falls to his death.
Three
years later, a shaken Carter goes to Frady and unleashes a tale of paranoia,
revealing that no less than six witnesses at the luncheon have all died under
mysterious circumstances. Frady initially brushes off her concerns until Carter
is found dead less than 24 hours later. Out of guilt, he begins to investigate
the deaths and in a major scene lifted straight from the novel, he nearly dies
himself, outsmarting a sheriff who sets Frady up to be drowned at the hands of a
deluge running out from a dam (in the novel it’s a “helpful hotel managerâ€). Frady
manages to secure documents concerning the Parallax Corporation from the
sheriff’s house and tries to convince his skeptical editor, Bill Rintels (Hume
Cronyn), of the links to the deaths. Frady then turns his attention to Austin
Tucker and accompanies Tucker and his aide/lover on a yacht ride to discuss the
assassinations – until a bomb onboard kills both men and Frady narrowly escapes
by jumping overboard. It seems that wherever Frady goes, a Parallax minion is
not too far behind. This sets in motion a series of near logic-defying events
which results in an ending of
ambivalence.
To
fully appreciate this film in 2022, one needs to be aware of the climate of
fear and panic that must have pervaded the zeitgeist in the 1960s and 1970s
when seemingly no one could be trusted (John Frankenheimer’s 1962 outing The
Manchurian Candidate, based on Richard Condon’s 1959 novel, was eerily
prescient as was his 1964 classic Seven
Days in May, which centered on a coup attempt to topple the U.S. government).
After the assassinations of John F. Kennedy in November 1963, Malcolm X in
February 1965, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in April 1968, and Robert F. Kennedy
in June 1968, who really could be trusted? The film was shot in the Spring of
1973 while the country was mired in the Watergate scandal, and it points to evil
forces at work that Frady hopes to uncover. In the novel, Frady’s name is
Malcolm Graham and he works in tandem with Austin Tucker, one of the men who
perish on the boat.
The
late author Loren Adelson Singer, who passed away in 2009, had published
several novels, among them That’s the House, There (1973), Boca
Grande (1974), and Making Good (1993). His first work was 1970s The
Parallax View, published by Doubleday. It was written as an answer to his disdain
for the printing business he worked at with his father-in-law and proved to be
enough of a success to permit him to become a paid author. The inspiration for
the book came from the covert operations he assisted in while training with the
Office of Strategic Services and was penned following the high-profile
political assassinations of the 1960s. It also provided the blueprint for the
film which is the second of Mr. Pakula’s informally named “paranoia trilogy,â€
bookended by Klute (1971) and All the President’s Men (1976). All
three films were photographed by the late Gordon Willis. While the first two
were shot in anamorphic Panavision (2.35:1), the third film was shot flat
(1.85:1).
Conspiracy
thrillers of this era concerned with Everyman against the Establishment often
possessed creepy, minimalist musical scores and The Parallax View is no
exception. Michael Small provides an excellent theme on the heels of his work
for Klute prior to passing the baton to David Shire on All the
President’s Men (Mr. Shire coincidentally scored The Conversation
for his then brother-in-lawFrancis Coppola). It is reminiscent of the music he
would later write for John Schlesinger’s Marathon Man (1976), yet
another terrific film about paranoia.
One
of actor/comedian Bob Hope’s most cherished films is Monsieur Beaucaire,
a 1946 remake of a Rudolph Valentino silent picture from 1924, both of which are
based on a 1900 novel by Booth Tarkington. Hope’s version, directed by George
Marshall, is certainly a loose adaptation because it turned what was a
historical romantic drama into a flat-out comedy.
Woody
Allen has been known to cite early Bob Hope movies as an inspiration for his
onscreen persona in the director’s early “zany†comedies like Bananas and
Sleeper. When one views something like Monsieur Beaucaire or My
Favorite Blonde (1942), the comparison is strikingly apt. Hope creates a
persona of nervous mannerisms, lack of self confidence masked by bravado, clumsy
but endearing interaction with the opposite sex, and witty one-liners. Beaucaire
exhibits Hope in fine form, producing a good deal of laughs as well as
swashbuckling action.
The
tale is set sometime in the 1700s. Beaucaire (Hope) is the royal barber to King
Louis XV (Reginald Owen). King Philip V (Howard Freeman) of Spain has suggested
a solution to prevent war between their two countries—marrying off Princess
Maria (Marjorie Reynolds) of Spain to a suitor of Louis’ choosing. Louis
decides that Duc le Chandre (Patrick Knowles), a dashing swordsman and lady’s
man, to be the lucky groom. Actually, Louis wants le Chandre out of France
because they both have eyes on the same woman, Madame Pompadour (Hillary
Brooke). Never mind that Louis is still married to the queen (Constance
Collier). Beaucaire is in love with scullery maid Mimi (Joan Caulfield), but
Mimi has loftier goals of seducing the king himself and being one of his mistresses.
After a series of mistaken identities, the king banishing both Mimi and
Beaucaire to Spain for something they didn’t do, and le Chandre being forced to
go into hiding because of another mix-up, the duke and Beaucaire trade places
and travel together while impersonating one another. In Spain, nasty Don
Francisco (Joseph Schildkraut) is determined to stop the marriage between Maria
and le Chandre because he wants war between Spain and France so that he
can usurp his king. Once in Spain, Beaucaire—as le Chandre—must juggle several
risky situations to keep up the subterfuge, help le Chandre and Maria (who do
end up falling in love), and finally win over Mimi.
As
with most Bob Hope vehicles, there are musical numbers, slapstick routines,
and, here, some swashbuckling set pieces, all in period costumes with those
wacky powdered white wigs (in fact, one early comic piece involves Beaucaire,
the king, and the powder). Joan Caulfield is a worthy foil for Hope, and
Patrick Knowles provides adequate straight man/dashing hero duties. The always
reliable Joseph Schildkraut makes a good slimy villain, and there are plenty of
other supporting folks who add merriment to the proceedings. Director Marshall
keeps the picture moving at a brisk pace, and the script by Hope regulars
Melvin Frank and Norman Panama is clever and sharp.
Kino
Lober’s new Blu-ray release is a high definition transfer that looks good and
does the job. Unfortunately, there are no supplements on the disk apart from
theatrical trailers from this and other Bob Hope titles.
Monsieur
Beaucaire is
for fans of Bob Hope, Hollywood comedies of the 1940s, and excuses to while
away approximately 90 minutes with a smile on the face.
One
of the defining Hollywood gangster movies of the 1930s is the magnificent Angels
with Dirty Faces, directed by the versatile Michael Curtiz, and starring
the inimitable James Cagney in a signature role. For years afterwards,
impressionists would perform Cagney’s twitching mannerisms along with the
oft-repeated line in the film, “Whaddaya hear? Whaddaya say?†Cagney would
never live it down.
Interestingly,
Cagney nearly didn’t make the film. He had been afraid that he would be
typecast forever in “tough guy†roles, when at heart he was really a song and
dance man. He had already revealed his diversity to the world after his big
breakthrough in 1931 (The Public Enemy) by appearing in some musicals
like Footlight Parade (1933). However, even pictures like G-Men
(1935), in which Cagney played a law enforcement officer, was still a tough guy
outing for the actor. After some contract and studio conflicts, walking away
from Warner Brothers, further haggling, and the actor’s eventual return, Cagney
finally accepted the part of Rocky Sullivan.
In
the story’s ending, Sullivan is to be executed in the electric chair, and his Catholic
priest best friend, Father Jerry Connolly (Pat O’Brien) convinces him to “act
like a coward†so that his influence on younger hoodlums (played by the “Dead
End Kidsâ€) would be broken and they would no longer emulate him. At first Cagney
didn’t think that was a good idea for his tough guy image on screen, even
though he really wanted to get away from it. Then he came to his senses and
realized this was an opportunity to stretch his acting chops and show the
audiences yet another side of James Cagney—emotion and tears. As a result, the
actor received his first Academy Award nomination for Best Actor for Angels
with Dirty Faces.
Rocky
and Jerry are juvenile delinquents in the early 1920s (uncannily cast by
younger lookalike actors Frankie Burke and William Tracy, respectively). Rocky
gets sent to reform school and then later is arrested for armed robbery. His
co-conspirator in that job was lawyer/gangster Jim Frazier (Humphrey Bogart, in
one of his pre-star gangster roles) who convinces Rocky to take the rap.
Frazier promises to give him $100,000 of the stolen money upon Rocky’s release.
Now, years later in the 30s, Rocky is free and he wants his money. Jerry has
become a priest who oversees the parish where the Dead End Kids (Billy Halop,
Bobby Jordan, Leo Gorcey, Gabriel Dell, Huntz Hall, and Bernard Punsly) are
teenagers on their way to become professional gangsters. Rocky becomes a mentor
to them, much to Jerry’s chagrin. Also in the mix is Laury (Ann Sheridan),
Rocky’s love interest who has known him since they were kids and is now his
landlady. When Rocky goes to Frazier to get his money, trouble ensues, for
Frazier has become more corrupt. Rather than give Rocky the money that he was
promised, Frazier would rather bump off the guy. Rocky, despite pleas from
Jerry and Laury, declares war on Frazier and his underground syndicate.
Angels
with Dirty Faces is
successful on all counts, from the casting and acting, the direction, and the
writing (by John Wexley and Warren Duff, from a story by Rowland Brown). As
mentioned, Cagney received a Best Actor Oscar nomination. Curtiz received a
Best Director nomination and had to compete with himself, for he was also
nominated for Four Daughters the same year! These were Curtiz’s first
official nominations—he had been a “write-in†candidate in 1935 for Captain
Blood. Rowland Brown also received a nomination for Best Story (a category
that no longer exists). For this reviewer’s money, the movie itself should have
been a Best Picture nominee.
A
word about the Dead End Kids… These talented young actors got their start in
Sidney Kingsley’s 1935 Broadway play, Dead End, which was made into a
film in 1937 by United Artists. Because the actors were troublemakers on the
set, their contract was sold to Warner Brothers, where the boys made six
features in two years, including Angels with Dirty Faces. In 1939,
Warners kicked them out because of more destructive antics on the sets. This
didn’t end their careers, though. Other studios picked them up in various configurations
and names—the Little Tough Guys, the East Side Kids, and the Bowery Boys. In
total they made 89 feature films!
The
new Warner Archive Blu-ray is a direct port-over from the studio’s previous DVD
edition, except that the feature film is in high definition and looks marvelous
in glorious black and white. It comes with a commentary by film historian Dana
Polan. The supplements are one of Warner’s Leonard Maltin-hosted “Night at the
Movies†compilation that mimics what audiences might have seen in 1938 when
going to the theater. It begins with a newsreel, followed by a musical short
(“Out Where the Stars Beginâ€), a cartoon (“Porky and Daffyâ€), a theatrical
trailer, and finally the feature film. There is also a featurette about the
movie, and an audio-only radio production with the film’s two stars.
Angels
with Dirty Faces is
grand entertainment, a representation of the Golden Age of Hollywood at its
best, with a magnificent James Cagney performance, and exciting, riveting
gangster flick action. Don’t miss it.
In
an isolated theatre, a group of young performers is being drilled by a
tyrannical director with a passion for the dark and twisted. This new
production appears to be an all-dancing musical extravaganza filled with rape, murder,
and saxophone solos. Unknown to everyone involved however, the lead actor under
the giant owl head (don’t ask) has been offed and replaced by an actual crazed
serial killer who then proceeds to pick off the attractive cast and crew one by
one whilst they search helplessly for a way out of the theatre to alert the
police outside. Think the Friday the 13th franchise meets the
kids from Fame .
This
suspenseful, entertaining slasher from Italy (but shot entirely in English and
presented as though this is happening New York) was something of
a staple in the VHS days and now a new audience will be able to discover it
thanks to this 4K director-approved restoration from Shameless Screen Entertainment.
Also
known as Aquarius or Deliera, Stagefright was the feature
directorial debut of Dario Argento acolyte Michele Soavi, who had a run of
spectacular and operatic horror films during the last gasp of the Italian genre
film industry in the tail end of the 1980s. He was seen as something of a
natural successor to Argento. Having worked as an actor and assistant director
on a number of hit Italian genre films like City of the Living Dead
(1980, Lucio Fulci), Phenomena (1985, Dario Argento) and Demons
(1985, Lamberto Bava), as well as on the epic Terry Gilliam production The Adventures
of Baron Munchausen (1988), Soavi was well experienced in putting the
grotesque and the fantastical onto the big screen. The success of Stagefright
enabled him to move onto bigger, weirder and more ambitions films like The
Church (1989), The Sect (1991) and Cemetery Man (1994) [which
are also all available on Blu-ray from Shameless] and he continues to work
today in a very successful television career in Italy.
As
well as a spectacular visual and audio restoration, this new Blu-ray (with an
O-ring and reversible sleeve featuring two kinds of original artwork) also
features a long and insightful interview with Michele Soavi himself, as well as
interviews with Irish star David Brandon, no stranger to Italian genre cinema
during his long career, and Italian supporting actor Giovanni Lombado Radice,
who has possibly had more gory onscreen deaths than any other actor of his
generation. All three of these interviews are as entertaining as Stagefright
itself.
Produced
by Joe D’Amato and written by George Eastman, with a score featuring Guido
Anelli and Stefano Mainetti, this film is Italian through and through yet still
captures something of that 1980s New York off-Broadway spirit in its
pretentious director and young cast’s highs and lows, where the backstage
dramas threaten to overshadow the show itself even before the crazed owl-headed
killer turns up with an attitude and a chainsaw.
Stagefright is available now. Click here to order. (Please note: this is a Region 2, PAL format release.)
The
mid-1960s were full of motion pictures that capitalized on the exotic,
globe-trotting James Bond adventures. Even if they weren’t particularly spy
films, they had the same flavor, or at least they attempted to capture a
similar magic. Cinema Retro has reviewed several of these movies in
recent weeks (e.g., Masquerade, Arabesque), and Gambit,
released in 1966, is another one.
Directed
by Ronald Neame, Gambit is a top notch caper flick, and a clever one to
boot. Written by Jack Davies and Alvin Sargent, from a story by Sidney Carroll,
the film might remind viewers of the excellent Topkapi (1964), which was
also an international heist tale.
Shirley
MacLaine receives top billing over the up-and-comer Michael Caine, whose star
was rising rapidly in those days. They make a wonderful pair, and the film’s
electricity derives solely from their chemistry together. Add the shrewd
script, Neame’s able direction, a lively score by the great Maurice Jarre, and
beautifully faked foreign locations (the movie was made in Hollywood, despite a
few second unit establishing shots), and the results are a winner.
One
of the more unique things about the script is that the first twenty minutes or
so depict the caper as it is planned to work. The entire heist is acted
out without a hitch, and our protagonists get away with a priceless antiquity.
But all that was only Harry’s (Caine) plot, being told to his accomplice, Emile
(John Abbott). The rest of the movie is the enactment of that plan, which of
course, goes wrong every step of the way. This is a movie about being forced to
throw the plan out the window and improvise, with the stakes much higher and
more dangerous.
Harry
wants to steal an ancient Chinese sculpture of a woman’s head. It just so
happens that Nicole (MacLaine), an exotic dancer in Hong Kong, looks exactly
like the face of the woman. The owner of the relic is allegedly the “richest
man in the world,†Shahbandar (Herbert Lom), who lives in a fictional Middle
Eastern country not unlike Egypt. It also just so happens that Shahbandar’s
deceased wife greatly resembled the statue, and thus, Nicole, too. Harry
promises Nicole a payment of $5,000 and a British passport if she will
cooperate in his scheme. Nicole is to dress in flashy Middle Eastern garb and
pose as Harry’s wife, and Harry fenagles a visit with Shahbandar. Harry is
counting on the rich collector to be so entranced by Nicole’s looks that Harry
will be able to case the house, steal the statue, and escape in less than a
day. Unfortunately, Shahbandar is not the pushover Harry thinks he is. The man
is one step ahead of the thieves, and Harry must quickly alter his scheme on
the fly. And, naturally, neither Harry nor Nicole expected to fall in love with
each other, either!
This
is fun stuff, and it’s all presented in a playful, tongue-in-cheek manner that
is characteristic of the genre and the era in which these types of movies were
made. The heist sequence is especially smart. Who knew Shirley MacLaine was so
flexible? (You’ll have to see the movie.) Incidentally, the film was nominated for three Oscars: Art Direction, Sound and Costume Design.
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray showcases Clifford Stine’s colorful cinematography, and it
looks lovely. The movie comes with two different audio commentaries—one an
archival track by director Neame, and a newer one by film historians Howard S.
Berger, Sergio Mims, and Nathaniel Thompson. The theatrical trailer is
included, along with other Kino Lorber trailers.
Gambit
is
for fans of Shirley MacLaine, Michael Caine, 1960s-era crime adventures, and
old-fashioned romps at the movies.
(Note: the film inspired a quasi-remake in 2012 starring Colin Firth, Cameron Diaz and Alan Rickman.-Ed.)
The inmates are running the asylum in
Jack Sholder’s directorial debut Alone in the Dark (1982) which opened in
New York on Friday, November 19, 1982 among a smorgasbord of horror outings
that included midnight showings of George A. Romero’s then-notorious Dawn of
the Dead, Trick or Treats (which, contrary to my original
recollection, did play in my area, a fact that could have been easily
confirmed with a quick consultation of an archival copy of my local newspaper –
my bad!), the Canadian horror outing Funeral Home, the comic book pairing
of George A. Romero and Stephen King in the fun-thrilled Creepshow, the
mis-marketed Halloween III: Season of the Witch, and John Carpenter’s
then-maligned but now rightly revered The Thing. While the marketing for
Alone may hint at buckets of gore, it’s actually a fairly mild affair by
today’s (arguably low) standards. It primarily focuses on the scenario at hand
which features a group of then-unknowns pitted against an all-star cast in what
can be described as a mixture of social commentary and a send-up of killer-on-the-loose
movies. The lead characters play their roles straight despite having to utter
some truly silly dialogue worthy of anything penned by Franco Ferrini and Dario
Argento.
Dr. Dan Potter (Dwight Schultz) moves
his family into a large new house after he goes to work for Dr. Leo Bain
(Donald Pleasence) at the Haven Asylum, taking over the position from the previous
Dr. Merton. Dr. Bain, whose last name cannot help but draw smirks from those
who notice the absence of the letter “r†from his name, could easily be mistaken
for one of the patients that Haven houses, as he seems more off-the-wall than
they are. He smokes from a marijuana pipe and refers to the inmates as
“voyagersâ€. One of the “voyagers†makes the comical statement that “There are
no crazy people, doctor. We’re all just on vacation!†Yikes! It’s tough
not to get a kick out of a film that boasts a nightclub scene featuring a band
called the Sick F*cks who sing a song that has lyrics consisting solely of “Chop
chop, chop up your mother!†recited over and over again. Dr. Potter hilariously
remarks over the loud music, “I have enough insanity in my life. I don’t wanna
pay for it!â€
While a far cry from the “Do not touch
the glass, do not approach the glass†severity of Hannibal Lecter, several
of the inmates – sorry, voyagers – specifically Hawkes (Jack Palance),
Preacher (Martin Landau), and Fatty (the late Erland van Lidth, unrecognizable from
The Wanderers (1979) and from 1980’s Stir Crazy as the huge bald
inmate), had been close to Dr. Merton and erroneously believe that his absence
is a result of having been murdered by Dr. Potter. The poor doctor is now the
target of termination by the triumvirate of terrors. They manage to have their
day of reckoning when a power outage befalls the hospital and the loss of electricity
causes their normally locked cells to now be conveniently opened, thus beginning
their reign of terror. Fault tolerance was obviously not part of the institution’s
budget. Oops!
Martin Landau is very amusing as Preacher.
He looks like Fred Flintstone at the end of the “A Haunted House is Not a Homeâ€
1964 episode when Fred flips his lid and sports a meat cleaver, laughing
maniacally and chasing his relatives. I never would have expected Landau to
deliver the impressive performance he gave Woody Allen in Crimes and
Misdemeanors (1989) years later. When Potter realizes the reality of the
situation, he holes up his family in his house to save their lives, but not
before his precocious young daughter’s (Elizabeth Ward) sexy, Playboy-like
babysitter Bunky (Carol Levy) is attacked after her boyfriend is killed. The
scene of a huge knife menacing her on the bed is creepy and decidedly phallic. They
all do their best to outwit the escapees.
The film’s ending is a bit bloody,
however there is more to it than meets the eye, which is to say that it’s more
than just a slasher film in that it posits questions about “who is crazy?†along
the same lines as Milos Forman’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975).
Originally released on DVD in 2005, the
new Blu-ray from Scream Factory has a beautiful HD transfer and ports over the
extras from that release, minus the liner notes by horror film authority Michael
Gingold (a shame), while adding new ones. Up first is a feature-length audio
commentary with the film’s director who discusses Ronald David Lang, who ran a
famous psychiatric hospital and said that crazy people were saner than the “normalâ€
people- they had just adjusted to it. This reminds me of Claire Bloom’s line to
Julie Harris in Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963): “You really expect me
to believe you’re sane and the rest of the world is mad?†He also talks
in-depth about the choices made by some of the actors; the challenges he
encountered working with Jack Palance; Lyn Shaye’s cameo at the film’s start;
how New Line Cinema was originally a distribution company and moved into the
production end of the business, and an interesting tidbit about Matthew
Broderick auditioning and the director, who rejected him because he thought he
was too good!
Out of the Dark – Interview with Jack
Shoulder
– A very interesting 40 minutes with the film’s director talking about his
humble beginnings and the difficulties he ran into making films in his early
days.
Mother Choppers – The Sick F*cks
Remember Alone in the Dark – For over nine minutes, Snooky, Tish
and Russell discuss their experience working on the film.
Sites in the Dark – The Locations of
Alone in the Dark – Alone was filmed in sections of northern New
Jersey in November 1981. As you can imagine, much of the locations have changed
in 40 years. At just under 12 minutes, this is a brand-new, HD-lensed tour
hosted by Michael Gingold, who did a great job with his tours of Alice,
Sweet Alice (1977) and The Changeling (1980), to name a few. For the benefit of New Jersey readers, this
time he takes us to the Skyland Manor, the Rockland Psychiatric Center, Route
46 and Bergan Turnpike, Hillsdale Plaza, Closter Plaza where the Bleeder wears
a hockey mask before Jason Voorhees did in 1983’s Friday the 13th
Part 3 In 3-D, the Englewood Police Department, Oradell, NJ (specifically
the intersection of Midland Road and Commander Black Drive where Preacher obtains
his mailman’s hat), and the Potter Family house, which is a private residence
that forbade them from filming on the property. I always love horror film
locations and this is a great piece.
Bunky Lives! – Interview with Carol
Levy – Now
a successful real estate agent in New York, Carol did a lot of toothpaste
commercials in her early career. She also talks about the few other films that
she appeared in. I appreciated her taking the time to do this, which is
something she clearly didn’t have to considering her current profession. This
runs over 16 minutes.
Still F*cking Sick – Catching
Up with the Sick F*cks – At 16 minutes, this is a piece that is ported over
from that 2005 DVD. Great for fans of this group.
Rounding out the extras are a theatrical
trailer, a TV Spot, two creepy radio spots (I miss those!) and an extensive stills
gallery.