BY JOHN M. WHALEN

Northrop Frye’s “Anatomy of Criticism” maintains that all stories are about a quest for identity. Identity, he maintains, is derived from one’s position in society and in stories with a happy ending. A character starts out in isolation but eventually finds his place in society. That’s the story of the young hero who rises from obscurity, finds the girl of his dreams, overcomes obstacles and lives happily ever after. Tragic stories are about characters who start out with an established identity but lose it for one reason or another and end up totally isolated or dead. Like Macbeth or Hamlet.

Kino Lorber Studio Classics recently released a double feature on Blu-Ray of a couple of low-budget westerns from the 50’s starring Anthony Quinn that surprisingly, despite their humble origins, demonstrate pretty clearly what Frye meant. “The Man from Del Rio” (1956), and “The Ride Back” (1957) are not your typical westerns.

“The Man from Del Rio” is the story of two people more or less isolated from society. David Robles (Anthony Quinn) is a Mexican gunslinger newly arrived in the town of Mesa, Kansas. When we first see him he’s drunk and waiting on a bench on the side of the street until a man named Dan Ritchy (Barry Atwater) rides into town. Robles kills him in revenge for Ritchy killing his family five years ago down in Del Rio. Robles is wounded and taken by Sheriff Jack Tillman (Douglas Spencer) to the doctor’s office. Robles has “a flesh wound” and is bandaged up by Estella (Katy Jurado), a Mexican woman who works for Doc Adams’ (Douglas Fowley). She’s more or less established her identity as the doctor’s assistant and housekeeper, but feels some sense of isolation nonetheless because she’s a Mexican.

Dirty and unshaven, Robles tries to put some moves on her, but she rejects him. He leaves the doctor’s office and encounters Ed Bannister (Peter Whitney), the owner of the only saloon in town. He takes him to the saloon and buys him drinks, telling him he ought to be angry with him. He had just hired Ritchy as part of an armed force he wants to use to take over the town. Dodge and Abilene aren’t the wild towns they used to be, he says, and he figures to turn Mesa into a new Sin City with him in charge. He offers Robles Ritchy’s job. Robles demurs but then three more desperadoes that Bannister sent for ride into town. Billy Dawson (John Larch), his brother George (Mark Hamilton), and Fred Jasper (Guinn “Big Boy” Williams), come into the saloon and invite Robles to drinks when they learn he killed Ritchy.

Robles whoops it up with the three outlaws who treat him like an old friend, but after a while he tells Bannister he’s leaving. On his way to his horse he spots Estella outside the doctor’s office and decides he needs the doc to take another look at his gunshot wound. The doctor is out so Robles tries again to get her to warm up to him but she’s having none of it. There’s a commotion out in the street. They go outside and Estella reacts in horror as she sees the Dawson brothers and Jasper throw a rope around Sheriff Tillman and hoist him up on a rafter in front of the saloon. Estella runs to help the sheriff, but Billy Dawson grabs her, throws her across his saddle and starts to ride off with her. Robles tries to stop them and Billy draws his gun and Robles kills him and the other two as well.

This is where the film gets interesting. Left with no lawman to protect them and with Bannister threatening to hire more guns and ruin the town for his own benefit, the townspeople offer Robles $100 a month and a place to live in the back of the jail if he’ll take the sheriff’s job. Robles sees the offer as a way to continue his pursuit of Estella and accepts. For the moment it appears the outcast has found a place in the community. Even Estella is kinder to him after he’d rescued her. However, she allows him to get no closer to her. When he tells her he’s a better man now. He’s got a job, money and a place to live. But she reminds him of his real place in Mesa. “Have you ever gotten rid of rats in a house?” she asks. “You throw a snake into it and lock the door. But when the rats are gone do you keep the snake around?”

The turning point in the story comes when the town holds a dance. Everybody is enjoying themselves until the new sheriff shows up, all clean and slicked up. First they stop him at the door and tell him to check his gun and hat. There’s an awkward silence as everyone watches him and moves away from him as he approaches. He asks one of the women to dance and she runs for the punch bowl. Estella watches as the community gives Robles the cold shoulder. He finally gets his hat and gun and goes outside to share a bottle with Breezy (Whit Bissell), the town drunk.

Estella comes out from the dance and asks him why he doesn’t leave. “Have you no pride?” she asks.

Robles tells her that she is the only reason he has stayed in Mesa.

“You think I want you?” she asks.

“Don’t you?” Robles replies.

The scene ends with Robles slapping her and lurches off in a drunken rage to have a final confrontation with Bannister.

“Man from Del Rio” was made in 1956 and in these scenes with Katy Jurado we see both the savage side of Quinn, reminiscent of his performance as Zampano in Fellini’s “La Strada”, as well as the vulnerability he displayed in “Requiem for a Heavyweight.” I’m not saying “The Man from Del Rio” is a film of that caliber, but it is fascinating to watch these two performers bring a level of intensity to what could have been a run-of-the-mill B-movie western or TV movie. Directed by Harry Horner, who mostly directed episodes of TV series like “Gunsmoke” and “Lux Playhouse,” and written by Richard Carr, who spent 30 years grinding out scripts for episodes of TV shows from “Richard Diamond, Private Detective,” to “Johnny Staccatto,” “The Man from Del Rio” manages to transcend its TV show origins and achieve something better. It’s a fascinating film. Do Robles and Estella manage to find a place for themselves in this world? Come on now. That would be telling.

“The Ride Back” is the second low budget Anthony Quinn western presented on this KL Blu-Ray double bill, and is another story that fits Frye’s definition of story as the quest for identity. In this case Quinn plays Bob Callen, a half-Mexican outlaw wanted for the killing of a man in Texas. William Conrad, best known as the heavyset star of the “Cannon” TV series, plays Chris Hamish, the sheriff sent South of the Border to arrest him and bring him back for trial. That’s a pretty commonplace storyline, except that in this case Hamish is anything but the usual lawman. The fact is he doesn’t really want to go to Mexico. As we find out in the ensuing story, Hamish has been pretty much a failure all his life. He’s never been successful at anything, has no friends, even his wife hates him. But he took the job to prove once and for all that there was at least one thing he did right in his life. He was going to bring a killer back from Mexico and make him stand trial.

Callen on the other hand has no such self-doubt. He’s got a strong sense of who he is and what he can do. He’s popular and has friends and when Hamish catches up with him, he finds him shacked up with a hot Mexican beauty named Elena (Lita Milan), who’s so crazy about him she tries to kill Hamish. Failing that she stalks them on the way back to the border and tries to set her man free when they camp for the night. Hamish prevents that from happening, puts her in the custody of a border guard and proceeds north with Callen in shackles.

On the way they encounter Apaches and come upon a ranch house where an elderly couple and their daughter are found dead. After they bury the dead, Hamish discovers another survivor, another little girl (Ellen Hope Monro) the twin of the dead one. Her purpose in the story is to show how quickly she responds to Callen’s emotional personality, while running away from Hamish, whose anger only frightens her. Needless to say there comes a point in the story where the two men have to face themselves for the first time, and make life or death decisions that affect not only themselves but the nameless little girl as well. Are they really the men they think they are?

“The Ride Back” was a Robert Aldrich production, directed by Allen H. Miner, veteran of hundreds of television series episodes, include five episodes of the classic “Route 66” series. (In fact, do yourself a favor and find copies of “Route 66” episodes “Cries of Persons Next to One,” starring Michael Parks,” and “The Stone Guest,” possibly two of the best dramatic stories to ever air on commercial television.) “The Ride Back” may sound a little like “3:10 To Yuma” but it was originally written by Antony Ellis as a script for the “Gunsmoke” radio series, which featured Conrad as Matt Dillon. Conrad produced the film. It was obviously a passion project for him and Quinn and Cannon give two strong, masculine performances. Lots of action and lots of emotion.

This KL Studio Classics Blu-Ray has no bonus features other than the original trailers and trailers for other KL releases. The black and white prints for both films are very good, presented in 1080p with a 1.85:1 aspect ratio. The mono soundtracks are clear and tight. Recommended.

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John M. Whalen is the author of "Hunting Monsters is My Business: The Mordecai Slate Stories" . Click here to order the book from Amazon)

BY HANK REINEKE

A March 1945 notice in the Los Angeles Times reported that following his return to Hollywood from a USO camp tour, Boris Karloff was to begin work on a RKO Radio production titled Chamber of Horrors. The film was to be produced by Val Lewton, the producer who had already brought to the screen such psychological-horrors as Cat People (1942), I Walked with a Zombie (1943) and Curse of the Cat People (1944). Karloff had already appeared in a pair of Lewton’s horror-melodramas for RKO, The Body Snatcher (1945) and Isle of the Dead (1945). The actor had been enjoying his freelance status of late. Recent castings in a series of mad scientist films (1940-1942) for Columbia solidified Karloff’s reputation as cinema’s preeminent boogeyman - even in roles sans grotesque makeup appliances. So the engagement of the actor for Chamber of Horrors was properly trumpeted in a 1945 Variety notice as something of a given: “Karloff Goes Mad – Again.”

By August of 1945 the pre-production title of Chamber of Horrors was abandoned, the film tentatively re-slated as A Tale of Bedlam. It’s not entirely clear why the earlier title was dropped. One can speculate that RKO wished to differentiate their new film from the 1940 British Edgar Wallace thriller of the same name. But this second title too was soon shortened, the resulting film eventually released simply as Bedlam.

The origin of the film’s scenario was certainly original, one inspired by a painting of the sixteenth century British artist William Hogarth. In the years 1733-1734, Hogarth would brush a series of eight plates depicting the plight of a doomed character’s commitment to London’s notorious St. Mary’s of Bethlehem Asylum. The most famous of these portraits was Plate #8, titled “The Rake’s Progress,” a snapshot depicting madness on the ward’s floor. If Lewton’s films are best recalled for their psychological-horror element, the scenario of Bedlam illustrates the sorry fate of those irreversibly afflicted. Particularly the lurid, inhumane conditions to which they’re subjected following internment.

In the case of Bedlam, Lewton (under the nom de plume of “Carlos Keith”) and director Mark Robson would craft a provocative, class-conscious screenplay. Though the film is a historical-melodrama in construction, the picture was marketed as a thinly disguised Boris Karloff horror vehicle. Robson was a favorite collaborator of Lewton’s. He helmed Karloff’s previous film for RKO Radio, Isle of the Dead, as well as two earlier Lewton productions, The Seventh Victim (1943) and Ghost Ship (1943). The latter title, in fact, appears here as one half of the double-feature Blu ray made available here through the Warner Archive.

The budget for Bedlam was kept reasonably low since the filmmakers were able to make use of an existing set at RKO-Pathe’s studio in Culver City. Eagle-eyed admirers of the classic Ingrid Bergman-Bring Crosby movie The Bells of St. Mary (1945) will notice that film’s convent school setting has been repurposed for the darker explorations of Bedlam. The existing set’s availability allowed the production and costume designers on Bedlam some economic freedom to properly – and lavishly - dress the costumes and settings. The film has a very elegant, high-budget feel despite it’s small bankroll, and Robson does an admirable job of contrasting the privileged world of London’s elite against the poor souls who suffer the dank, dark asylum chamber of St. Mary’s.

The film takes place in the year 1761, an era cynically described here as “The Age of Reason.” Karloff’s unpleasant character, Master Sims, serves as the particularly cold and malevolent Apothecary General of the asylum. He’s a man without morals, interested only in satisfying his own selfish desires and lining his pocket. To this end, Sims continually toadies and fawns to those of regal or high political import, such as the corpulent and equally repulsive Lord Mortimer (Billy House). To gain favor with those of high position, Sims coldheartedly showcases “performances” of interned “loonies” for amusement and monies.

Things start going bad for Sims when he’s challenged by Nell Bowen (Anna Lee), a mistress of Mortimer’s whose earlier haughtiness and indifference has softened by the grotesque showcases. Rightfully seeing Bowen as a threat to both his position and pocketbook, Karloff does what he can to break the woman’s spirit. He cynically and falsely charges her with derangement, leading to a commitment to the ward at St. Mary’s. Her only hope in breaking free – and continuing her fight for the well-being and humane care for fellow inmates interred in this “bestial world” – is through the interventions of a pacifist Quaker (Richard Fraser) and a sympathetic, anti-Tory Whig politician Wilkes (Leland Hodgson). But the malevolent Sims will do all he can to silence and destroy the determined woman to prevent that from ever happening.

The film’s monochrome cinematography looks great, Director of Photography Nicholas Musuraca atmospherically capturing and juxtaposing the elegant lifestyles of the rich and powerful against the sorrowful living conditions of the mental and emotionally disturbed inmates of the asylum. Such attention to detail is particularly impressive when considering the production of Bedlam was shot quickly, photography wrapping by the end of September 1945.

The Hollywood trades would report shortly afterward that Karloff was scheduled to appear in yet a third film for the team of Lewton and Robson, Blackbeard, presumably a swashbuckling pirate epic. RKO executive producer Jack Gross was to supervise this new production, one scheduled to commence filming in spring of 1946. That film would, sadly, not see the light of day. Lewton’s relationship with Gross was reportedly an unfriendly one, and the box-office for Bedlam wasn’t what the studio had wished it to be. The revenue shortfall was partly attributed to troublesome distribution issues.

Such issues aside, it was also true that public interest in horror films had diminished. Such changes in taste had allowed Karloff to - briefly – be free of playing roles that exploited his reputation as cinema’s man of menace. This respite, however, wouldn’t last long. The gentlemanly, lisping actor was soon back to playing villains, mad scientists, and mysterious Swamis before decade’s end - even terrorizing Bud Abbott and Lou Costello as an acrobatic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Lewton would go on to produce four subsequent films following Bedlam, but the filmmaker would pass on in March of 1951, a somewhat uncelebrated figure in Hollywood. It wasn’t until the late 1960s that film scholars would reassess his contributions to cinema, anointing several of his earliest 1940’s efforts as classics of the horror genre. Robson’s career would continue unabated for decades, scoring big successes with such films as Von Ryan’s Express (1965) and Earthquake (1974).

Though this Blu ray’s second film lacks a star player of Boris Karloff’s caliber, Robson’s The Ghost Ship is certainly worth a watch. Despite its titillating supernatural title, this film too is not a horror-vehicle. Tom Merriam (Russell Wade), a newly hired third mate to Captain Will Stone (Richard Dix), suspects the cargo freighter’s commander is not only mentally disturbed, but possibly homicidal. The problem is no one on the crew or at the shipping company seems to agree with him. This despite mounting evidence of the Captain’s increasingly suspicious actions and demonstrably bizarre behavior. In some respects, The Ghost Ship is similar to Bedlam as it suggests one remain wary of being too trustful of those holding positions of power and prestige. Though a sixty-nine minute B-film, The Ghost Ship is a pretty effective effort, some even preferring it to Bedlam as it’s a bit more suspenseful in construction.

This Warner Archive Collection Region-Free Blu ray edition of Bedlam and The Ghost Ship is presented here in 1080p High Definition 16x9 1.37.1 and DTS-HD Master Mono Audio. While the set includes the trailers of both films, the only other special feature offered is an informative and entertaining commentary courtesy of film historian Tom Weaver in support of Bedlam. Those of us who already invested in Warner’s nine-film DVD set The Val Lewton Horror Collection (2005) might not choose to upgrade for this Blu two-fer, but fans of Karloff and Lewton will be amply rewarded should they do so. This set not only features upgraded transfers with great balance, but also Weaver’s usual comprehensive supporting commentary, absent from the original DVD release.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lorber continues its alliance with niche market video label Scorpion Releasing with a Blu-ray edition of the largely forgotten 1969 action/adventure flick "The Devil's 8". The film typifies the kind of movie that simply doesn't exist any more: a low-budget production designed for fast playoff and modest profits. Back in the day, studios depended on movies such as these to be important to their bottom line. It's in stark contrast to today's film industry where seemingly every release is intended to be a blockbuster with production costs so high that some flicks have to gross close to a billion dollars to be considered financially successful. "The Devil's 8" is pretty much what you might expect simply by examining the sleeve. Typical of these types of movies, it presents a cast of reputable character actors who get meatier roles than they usually did in more prestigious productions. The script is yet another in a seemingly endless number of action films that was shamelessly inspired by the success of "The Dirty Dozen". Christopher George is Faulkner, who we are introduced to as a criminal in a work group of convicts doing time in a prison in the deep South. Along with his fellow prisoners, he's performing backbreaking work under the guard of cruel, armed overseers. Faulkner initiates a riot and he and seven other convicts manage to escape. They are soon "rescued" by government officials and learn that Faulkner is actually an FBI agent and the entire scenario was pre-planned. Turns out that the men are being recruited to work under Faulkner as part of an elaborate plot to bring down a local crime king named Burl, who is running a major illegal moonshine operation in the area. The FBI knows that he is being protected by high government and police officials who are paid off with a share of the loot. Faulkner offers them a deal: if they agree to undergo extensive training and help him infiltrate Burl's operation, he'll recommend that they be pardoned and freed. Sound familiar? It's but one of the familiar scenarios blatantly copied from "The Dirty Dozen". The convicts all agree and end up being trained to drive specially-equipped cars that have been reinforced to withstand all sorts of calamities. They must also become proficient in the use of machine guns and demolition work. As you might imagine in a film with a 98-minute running time, this is accomplished fairly quickly. Adding to the "Dirty Dozen" similarities, the men initially fight among each other until Faulkner employs a successful strategy whereby they bond together in their common hatred of him.

The group then pretends to be rival moonshiners who move in on Burl's territory, knowing he'll try to take them out.When their resiliency wins out over Burl's men, Faulkner convinces Burl to allow them to become partners in his operation in the hope of being shown where his illegal stills are located. Burl agrees, but no one is naive to believe the alliance will last. Faulkner and his men know that ultimately, Burl will have them killed. As played by Ralph Meeker, Burl is a stereotypical, cigar-chomping Southern good ol' boy with plenty of charisma to cover up the fact that he routinely uses murder to protect his operation. By the time the double-crosses kick in, Faulkner and his gang are ready to engage Burl and his private army in an all-out battle to the death. Faulkner's group is the usual blend of eccentrics we see in prison films. Each has his own distinct personality from the lone Black convict (Robert DoQui in the Jim Brown "Dirty Dozen" role) to Joe Turkel (reunited with Meeker after having both appeared in Stanley Kubrick's classic "Paths of Glory") as an impulsive team member whose actions threaten to undo the mission (think John Cassavetes in "The Dirty Dozen"). Other members of the group are played by a familiar assortment of character actors including one-time teen idol Fabian, Tom Nardini of "Cat Ballou" and Larry Bishop, who specialized in portraying hippies. Christopher George dominates the film as the tough-as-nails Faulkner. It is puzzling why he never became a bigger star, given his rugged good looks and strong on-screen personality.  Despite starring in the modestly successful WWII TV series "The Rat Patrol", he rarely had a lead role in feature films. His biggest impressions were as the quirky villains in two John Wayne film, ""El Dorado" (1967) and "Chisum" (1970). Sadly, he passed away in 1983 at only 52 years-old. The rest of the cast performs well and each member provides some amusing moments. Leslie Parrish is inserted in the movie to provide some sex appeal as Burl's reluctant mistress. 

"The Devil's 8" was directed and produced by "B" movie king Burt Topper. Much of the action is rather clunky in its staging and the limited budget results in some of the worst and most laughable rear screen projection effects in the history of the medium. But Topper was unpretentious in his goals and execution of his films. He just wanted to make fun movies for undemanding audiences.  The score by Michael Lloyd and Jerry Styner, proteges of the wiz kid Mike Curb, provide a bouncy country score that is appropriate for the story but which rapidly grows weary due to its sheer monotony- and wait until you hear wacky theme song and lyrics by the Sidewalk Sounds that play over the end credits. "The Devil's 8" seems like one of those films that was specifically created to fill the bottom of a double-feature bill, but in fact, it was the main feature in most of its bookings, although in the UK, it was the second feature to "3 in the Attic". Interestingly, the movie proved to be a fertile training ground for screenwriters Willard Huyck and John Milius, who co-authored the script with James Gordon White. Within a few years, Huyck would pen the screenplay for George Lucas's masterwork "American Graffiti", while Milius would go on to write the screenplays for "Dirty Harry" and "Apocalypse Now" and find considerable success as a director. Thus, before we turn our noses up at lowbrow movies such as this, we should pause to remember how many considerable talents emerged from such productions.

The Blu-ray presents the film in the best state possible, given that there probably isn't an abundance of adequate master prints available. Although it's been produced from a new 2K master, the color is sometimes wishy-washy, but that just adds to the "B" movie appeal. Bonus features include a good recent interview with Larry Bishop, who discusses his friendship with Burt Topper and expresses respect for his talents. An original trailer and gallery of other Kino/Scorpion releases is also included. Kino and Scorpion have wisely retained the film's original poster artwork for the sleeve. It's a perfect example of how, in the Golden Age of movie marketing, the status of "B" movies could be considerably improved by employing dynamic graphics. Ironically, in today's industry, movies that cost hundreds of millions of dollars are promoted with poster artwork that is bland, boring and unmemorable. Just another reason to miss those bygone days of low-budget crowd-pleasers. 

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BY FRED BLOSSER

“Binge-watching” is a relatively recent addition to our vocabulary, thanks to 24/7 streaming TV channels, but the concept itself isn’t new. On summer weekends in the 1970s, drive-in theatres offered the same opportunity for immersing yourself in cheap, all-night entertainment. There, you’d binge not on multiple episodes of “Peacemaker” or “Walking Dead” but instead on their Disco-era equivalent: triple or quadruple features of B-Westerns, soft-core sex comedies starring ex-Playboy Centerfolds, Kung-fu imports, and populist vigilante dramas.

Back then, one film on the bill in scratchy, tinny celluloid might have been “God’s Gun,” starring Lee Van Cleef. In the 1976 Western, now available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber, an outlaw gang led by Sam Clayton (Jack Palance) sweeps into town, demolishes the saloon owned by pretty Jenny (Sybil Danning), and kills a man at the poker table. Jenny is furious when the cowardly sheriff (Richard Boone) refuses to go after the outlaws as they ride out. The local Catholic priest, Father John (Van Cleef), follows instead, and brings back the murderer, Clayton’s nephew Jess, on his own. This provokes more mayhem as the outlaws return, break Jess out of jail, gun down Father John, and go on a further rampage of rape and murder. The sheriff still prefers to keep a low profile, so Jenny’s son Johnny (Leif Garrett) sets off for Mexico. There the boy intends to find Father John’s twin brother Lewis, a retired gunfighter, and bring him back to restore peace in Juno City. Those scenes give Leif Garrett nearly as much screen time as Lee Van Cleef. This was probably welcomed by the young actor’s rising fan base of thirteen-year-old girls in 1976. By Van Cleef’s leathery old fans, not so much.

“God’s Gun” was designed to look like a Spaghetti Western, still a viable if fading genre in the mid-'70s, even to the extent of reuniting Lee Van Cleef with director Gianfranco Parolini (alias “Frank Kramer”) from “Sabata” and “Return of Sabata.” Parolini employs many of the stock techniques from his earlier Westerns, including sudden close-ups when characters are shot, skewed camera angles from the victims’ perspective as they fall dead, and noisy saloon brawls. In reality, the movie was produced in Israel by Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus, who would later head the Cannon Group in the 1980s. Golan and Globus followed a simple, commercially successful formula — take a popular genre, commission a marginally functional script with plenty of action, headline two or three well-known actors, hire an experienced B-list director, and keep the remaining overhead as low as possible. Many B-movies try to finesse their cheap budgets, but “God’s Gun” doesn’t bother. The Western costumes look like remainders from the Party Store, Van Cleef is burdened with a bad toupee and goatee, one exterior set doubles as two towns, and it’s painfully obvious that neither Van Cleef nor Boone dubbed themselves in post-production. The secondary casting is comparably haphazard. As Alex Cox notes in his audio commentary for the Blu-ray, Palance’s skinny, curly-haired bad guys look more like “a bunch of hippies” than bloodthirsty frontier desperadoes. Not that any of this would have mattered in your 2 o’clock stupor as you watched “God’s Gun” at the bottom of a drive-in triple-feature in 1976.

Kino Lorber presents “God’s Gun” in a remastered 2K edition at a 1.85:1 aspect. The picture looks a little soft, but it’s probably the best the studio could do with the materials at hand. Besides Alex Cox’s droll, savvy commentary, the Blu-ray includes reversible cover art from the original movie posters, as well as the vintage theatrical trailers for “God’s Gun” and other Lee Van Cleef Westerns on Kino Lorber’s backlist. If you’re in a nostalgic mood for a 1970s drive-in experience, you could do worse than select “God’s Gun” and two or three others from the KL catalog.  Augment with a couple of stale hot dogs and watery Cokes, fill your TV room with the heady scent of week-old popcorn, and then sit back and enjoy.

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Fred Blosser is the author of "Sons of Ringo: The Great Spaghetti Western Heroes". Click here to order from Amazon)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

The niche market video label Code Red continues its distribution alliance with Kino Lorber, which is a very good thing for lovers of obscure retro movies. Case in point: "Story of a Woman", a 1970 drama that I will admit I was unaware of until receiving a review screener. The film is a truly international affair, shot in Europe by Italian director/writer/producer Leonardo Bercovici and starring two American male leads and Sweden's Bibi Andersson as the female protagonist. Andersson was making a name for herself in English-language cinema after having appeared in several of Ingmar Bergman classics. She plays Karin Ullman, an adventurous young Swedish woman who has left her home to study piano at a music conservatory in Rome in 1963. Here, she meets cute with Bruno Cardini (James Farantino), a hunky and charismatic medical student who has the good fortune of inadvertently causing a fender bender with Karin's car in one of the city's notorious traffic jams. All is immediately forgiven once Karin realizes she is hopelessly smitten with Bruno, and vice-versa. Soon, they are enjoying a Hollywood-like romance and Karin considers making their relationship permanent. That is, until she receives a visit from a middle-aged woman, Liliana (Annie Giradot), who explains she is Bruno's long-suffering wife. She says he has long been a serial philanderer and user of women.  Liliana says he is now tired of suffering in silence. It seems Bruno is dependent upon her considerable wealth and she has given him an ultimatum: stop having affairs or lose your financial lifeline. Heartbroken and emotionally shattered, Karin leaves Rome to return to her parent's lake house on the outskirts of Stockholm. Here she finds her family and friends are able to provide her with solace. Things improve dramatically when she once again meets cute with a handsome man, this one American David Frasier. He's the polar opposite of Bruno: he's middle-aged and is the very definition of responsibility, as he is attached to the U.S. embassy in Rome as a high level diplomat. Soon, he and Karin progress from being lovers to a married couple. Life is fun and glamorous for Karin, as she attends parties with international dignitaries and the couple live a relatively high life style. Karin gives birth to a daughter and they move briefly to London where David has been assigned before returning to Rome. Here, things get messy when Bruno has a couple of coincidental meetings with her (seemingly unlikely given the vastness of the Eternal City.) Bruno explains what the viewer has already seen: he and Liliana had a terrible argument while in the car and a resulting accident cost Aliana her life. Bruno is now single and is regarded as one of Italy's top professional soccer players. In fact, he is a national idol. He comes across as repentant and sorry for the pain he previously caused Karin- but makes it clear he wants to resume their relationship. Karin prides herself on being a loyal wife and a good mother. She consistently rejects Bruno's advances...until she ultimately begins to weaken.

In the quaint vernacular of when "Story of a Woman" was made, it would probably have been referred to as "a woman's picture". There is no doubt it's a soap opera, but it's a surprisingly compelling one thanks to an engrossing script and interesting characters. The situation Karin finds herself in poses a question that many people have found it difficult to deal with: is it possible to learn to "unlove" someone from your past, even if you know that seeing them again is wrong in every logical respect? Karin begins to see Bruno to talk things out but David finds out and makes it clear that their marriage is on the verge of a breakdown. However, a darker side of Bruno begins to emerge, making Karin reevaluate her future.

The movie boasts some fine performances. Bibi Andersson is very good indeed as the woman caught in a love triangle. She sincerely loves both men in her life but realizes that once she married David, the honorable decision would be to remain loyal to him. However, her past with Bruno appeals the selfish aspects of every human being's personality. As her much-distressed and ever-tolerant husband, Robert Stack is excellent. Stack was generally relegated to bland characters in big screen dramas, probably because of his long-running role as the humorless Eliot Ness in "The Untouchables". Thus, it's good to see him playing a multi-faceted, interesting personality. The scene in which he loses his seemingly limitless tolerance for Karin's indecisiveness results in him having an emotional eruption. The scene provides a showcase for the finest acting I've seen from Stack, who would get a different kind of exposure for his comedic talents in "Airplane!" (1980).  It should be mentioned that Stack and Andersson share a rather steamy love scene that is erotic, yet tasteful. It was fairly daring for two major stars at the time. Annie Giradot also makes an impact in her limited role as Bruno's long-suffering wife. Alas, James Farantino doesn't fare as well. He gives a perfectly fine performance but its undercut by director Bercovici's decision to have him play this Italian character without the slightest attempt to provide even a quasi-Italian accent. Thus, Farantino's Bruno sounds like he just dropped in from Kansas. As screenwriter, Bercovici could have solved the problem with a minor script rewrite in which Bruno would have explained he grew up in America and moved to Rome later in life. Instead, Farantino is able to look the part of an hunky native of Rome but every time he opens his mouth, it detracts from his performance.

The film features some lush locations, nicely photographed by Piero Portolupi and there's a fine romantic score provided by young up-and-comer John Williams. The Blu-ray presents an excellent transfer that helps reaffirm the film's somewhat exotic appeal. The only bonus feature is a trailer. "Story of a Woman" is undoubtedly sudsy in terms of the melodrama but its consistently engrossing throughout.

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Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

Arriving March 8, 2022, Brand-New Disc Includes Exclusive Behind-the-Scenes Footage and Director Commentary

The highly anticipated follow-up to the beloved classic Coming To America makes its Blu-ray and DVD debut when COMING 2 AMERICA arrives March 8, 2022 from Paramount Home Entertainment.

Akeem and Semmi are back for a brand-new, hilarious adventure!  In COMING 2 AMERICA, newly crowned King Akeem (Eddie Murphy) and his trusted confidante Semmi (Arsenio Hall) traverse the globe from their great African nation of Zamunda to the borough of Queens, New York when Akeem learns he has a long-lost son in the United States.  In addition to Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall, the outrageously entertaining film features an incredible cast including James Earl Jones, John Amos, Louie Anderson, Shari Headley, Wesley Snipes, Tracy Morgan, and Leslie Jones.

The COMING 2 AMERICA Blu-ray includes commentary by director Craig Brewer (Dolemite Is My Name, “Empire”) and an exclusive featurette entitled “From Queens to Zamunda,” which includes never-before-seen footage and interviews.

The COMING 2 AMERICA DVD includes the feature film in standard definition.

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By John M. Whalen

It’s a story line that’s been used in dozens of Western films. Two long-time friends who grew up together, later split up and take different paths—one follows the straight and narrow and becomes a lawman and the other turns into an outlaw. Fate decrees that one day they will have to meet in a showdown. It usually ends with the outlaw lying face down in the dirt and the sheriff sad and bitter about it all, wondering if it was all really worth it.

In 1973 two films with that plot were released within a month of each other. In May, Universal released “Showdown” starring Rock Hudson and Dean Martin, the last film directed by veteran helmsman George Seaton (“Miracle on 34^th St.,” “Airport”) and the last western that Martin (“Sons of Katie Elder,” “Rio Bravo”) would star in. A month later, in June, MGM released “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid” directed by Sam Peckinpah, starring Kris Kristofferson and James Coburn. It would be Peckinpah’s last turn at a western. While the two films have similar stories, they couldn’t be more different in tone, style, and execution. “Garrett” is a revisionist masterpiece that, along with Peckinpah’s “The Wild Bunch,” changed the western forever. “Showdown,” on the other hand, is a remnant of, and a kind of elegy for, a bygone era of Hollywood moviemaking. Kino Lorber has released a Blu-Ray edition of the film.

“Showdown” tells the story of Chuck Jarvis (Rock Hudson) and Billy Massey (Dean Martin), two guys who grew up together in Cumbres, New Mexico. Chuck is the straight and narrow one, and Billy is something of a gambler and a pretty fair hand with a gun. He likes to play the ocarina too. They get along fine until Kate (Susan Clark), who runs an eatery in town, enters the scene. Screenwriter Theodore Taylor throws a touch of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid into the mix by showing them in a series of flashbacks as three good friends, hanging out, enjoying each other’s company, just like Butch, Sundance and Etta. But when Chuck and Kate decide to get married, Billy packs up his ocarina and splits the scene, eventually winding up on the old Outlaw Trail. Chuck and Kate settle down on the ranch that they bought with money Billy won in a sharpshooter contest, and Chuck eventually becomes the sheriff in Cumbres.

Years later, unaware that Chuck is now the Sheriff in Cumbres, Billy rides back into the territory as part of a gang that robs a train. There’s trouble when the gang divides up the loot and they try to cheat Billy out of his fair share. Billy is forced to kill the brother of gang leader Art Williams (Donald Moffett) and rides off with all the loot. Williams vows to track him down. Back in Cumbres, when Chuck is told that Billy has robbed a train he reluctantly sets out with two Indian guides to track him down. While he’s gone, Billy shows up at the ranch. Kate still has a warm spot for old lovable Billy, and she hides him from the Williams gang until Chuck gets back. In an odd bit of dialogue for a western, at one point Billy tells Kate he thinks she thinks that he doesn’t like her. Kate winces a bit.

“It isn’t that,” she says. “I just stepped in between Damon and Pythias.”

“Who are they?” Billy asks.

Kate replies: “A vaudeville act. They play the better saloons.”

The reference to the Greek legend about two friends who face the ultimate test of friendship seems to go over Billy’s head, but given Dean Martin’s own personal experience of a long term friendship with a certain famous comedian, and the rumors that the reason they split up was because their wives didn’t get along, the theme strikes a strange chord. When Chuck tracks Billy back to his own ranch, the friends are briefly reunited. They concoct a half-baked plan that they think will keep Billy from going to prison and the next morning Chuck takes him to town and locks him up temporarily. Things might have worked out except for an ambitious prosecutor (John McLiam) who is determined to see Billy hang.

“Showdown” wasn’t very well received when it was released. Most critics wrote it off as a tired, cliché-ridden western with two stars who had seen better days. It’s true that both Martin and Hudson are a little long in the tooth for their parts, and they don’t seem to put much energy into their performances. But Martin, at least, had excuses. He was going through a painful divorce during the filming and one of the beloved Andalusian horses that he raised had recently died. So who could blame him if he wasn’t up to par in this film? Hudson was busy with his “MacMillan and Wife” TV series. (He actually filmed an episode of the series on the “Showdown” location with director George Seaton playing himself.) The weariness of the two leads actually gives “Showdown” weight and  significance. It’s like witnessing a Tinseltown version of the twilight of the gods, the end of the old way of making movies and telling stories. This was the end of an era when we had movie stars and big lavish productions in widescreen and stereophonic sound playing on huge neighborhood movie screens all over the country—big movies filmed in real places, not a special effects factory.

Lazlo Kovacs’s cinematography is magnificent. Using Todd-AO 35 cameras, he fills the screen with wide vistas, bright, colorful sweeps of the northern New Mexico scenery, with the Sierra Madre Mountains looming in the distance. Every frame, except some interior shots, is in deep focus with distant mountains and foreground figures in clear, sharp detail. The 2.35:1 aspect ratio makes you feel like you can breathe deeper just looking at it. This is why Blu-Rays matter. This film plays quite often on the Encore Westerns Channel. But it is cropped to 1.85:1. In that format, it makes no impression at all.

The climax of the film is set in a forest fire, with Chuck and Billy and the outlaw gang in pursuit of each other, finally ending in a totally burnt-out, black and charred landscape. What more fitting setting for the death of a genre? It can be argued that the traditional western declined and fell during this period of filmmaking. “Showdown” was one of the final casualties of the genre, however  there would still be a few classics released including "The Outlaw Josey Wales and "The Shootist". 

Kino Lorber’s transfer of “Showdown” to Blu-Ray is excellent. This is a disc you want to own if you just want to show off what your big-screen 4k High Definition TV can do. Colors are rich. None of that monochrome palette that Ridley Scott is so fond of. The sound on the disc is mono, which is too bad. David Shire’s score, featuring a repeated theme played on an ocarina, is wistful, alternately peppy and lonesome. Extra features include an informative audio commentary by film historians Howard S. Berger and Steve Mitchell, and a trailer for “Showdown” and half a dozen other features available on KL discs.

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John M. Whalen is the author of "Hunting Monsters is My Business: The Mordecai Slate Stories" . Click here to order the book from Amazon)