The
plot of Dario Argento’s much-maligned 1985 thriller Phenomena has long been the subject of ridicule and derision by
critics and fans alike since its initial release. The inevitable complaints
about the film range from the bad dubbing and stiff performances to the
ludicrous notion that insects can be employed as detectives in a homicide
investigation (this is true and has actually been done, providing the
inspiration for the film. A November 1996 episode of television’s Forensic Files even featured
an episode about this very method).
If the film does not sound familiar, that could be attributed to the fact that Phenomena was severely cut by some 33
minutes and retitled Creepers when it
opened in New York on Friday, August 30, 1985.
Jennifer
Corvino (Jennifer Connelly) is a fourteen year-old student attending an
all-girls school in Switzerland while her movie star father is away for the
better part of a year shooting a film. Her mother, who left the family when
Jennifer was a child, is merely mentioned but never seen. Unfortunately, her
roommate Sophie (Federica
Mastroianni) has just informed her that the school is
beset by a killer who stalks girls their age and kills them. Well, that is unfortunate! You would think that someone would order
the school closed and the girls sent away. As you can imagine, this does not
sit too well with Jennifer who suffers from a bad case of sleepwalking and
manages to find herself embroiled in the very murders she was hoping to avoid. She
meets entomologist John McGregor, a wheelchair-bound Scot who lacks a Scottish
accent but possesses an avuncular disposition that endears Jennifer to him and
his chimpanzee Inga who doubles as his nurse. Fortunately for Jennifer, he is
aiding the police in their investigation into the murder of a Danish tourist,
Vera Brandt (Fiore Argento, the director’s eldest daughter) and the
disappearance of McGregor’s former aid. Together with the help of McGregor,
Inga (yes, the chimp!) and a very large fly, Jennifer sets off to locate the
murderer. When she does, she has a very good reason to nearly regret it.
Phenomena is an unusual entry in
the Dario Argento universe as it is a mashup of fantasy and giallo-esque
murder mystery, effectively making some to refer to the film as a fairytale. Jennifer
Connelly was chosen by Mr. Argento to play the lead as he had seen her in
Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in
America (1984) and he thought she would be perfect for the film. His
decision to set the film in the Swiss Alps is unorthodox but provides the
perfect backdrop to the story as the scenery is utterly breathtaking. He also
makes terrific use of the Steadi-cam and it never feels over-used. From a
thematic standpoint, the film also deals with a subject I never would have
thought of: female abandonment. Critic and devoted Argentophile Maitland
McDonagh brought up this point when Mr. Argento discussed the film at the
Walter Reade Theatre in June 2022 at a retrospective
of his work. She is right: Vera is
abandoned by the bus (accidentally), Sophie is abandoned by her boyfriend,
Jennifer is abandoned by her mother (in an explanation left out of Creepers),
and even Inga is abandoned by her keeper.
Phenomena has been released on home video more times than I can
count, and I have personally owned it in the past as Creepers from the
original Media Home Entertainment VHS release from 1986; as Phenomena in
the form of the gatefold Japanese laserdisc pressing in 1997; the 1999 American
laserdisc release from The Roan Group; the 2008 DVD pressing as part of a
package of four other titles; the 2011 single Blu-ray from Arrow Films; the
2017 Blu-ray steelbook from Synapse Films; the 2017 Limited Edition Blu-ray from
Arrow Films with newly commissioned artwork by Candice Tripp, and the 2023 4K
UHD Blu-ray set from Arrow Films. Whew…Now, Synapse Films follows suit with
their own release of the film in yet another 4K UHD Blu-ray edition, this time
in a limited edition pressing with less-than-spectacular cover artwork design.
However, there is a more cost-effective edition that has made me giddy with
excitement. I must say that as a Dario Argento fan, and Phenomena being
my favorite film of his, the new pressing of this standard edition from Synapse
Films is a must-buy if only for the absolutely beautiful, gorgeous, and atmospheric
cover artwork that has been newly commissioned by artist Nick Charge. As a
purist, I generally shy away from artwork that is anything other than the key
art used in the original exhibition of the film. I do not wish to sound stuffy
or, heaven forbid, pretentious regarding this point, but it has been my
experience that the key art used in promoting a film is generally the best and
most effective artwork that has been used, regardless of the title in question,
though there have been exceptions. The original style “B” poster for Dan
Curtis’s 1976 thriller Burnt Offerings I have found to be infinitely
more interesting and creepy than the lesser-used style “A” artwork; Conversely,
Saul Bass’s beautiful mockup of the contorted face in the black lettering set
against a yellow background in the style “A” for Stanley Kubrick’s The
Shining (1980) was, is, and always will be far more effective to me than
the requisite and now tongue-in-cheek “Here’s Johnny!” image of Jack
Nicholson’s crazed visage peering at his wife through the remnants of the
bathroom door.
In the
case of Phenomena, which was trimmed and altered significantly for its
American debut and retitled Creepers, the original Italian key artwork by
the late great artist Enzo Sciotti was discarded altogether in favor of a poster
that focused on Jennifer Connelly holding flies in her hand, and the America
video poster went even further to have the insects remove the flesh from half
of her face! Nick Charge’s artwork is one of the most spectacular alternative promotional
images of the film that I have ever seen.
Watching
Phenomena again makes me realize just
how much I miss Daria Nicolodi, Mr. Argento’s long-time girlfriend who appeared
in six films for him. She brought so much to his work, and her absence is
deeply felt more than ever now. In Deep
Red (1975), she played the
wonderfully sweet journalist, redubbed by Carolyn de Fonseca; in Inferno she’s the strange Elise Stallone
Van Adler who keeps finding paint on her foot; in Tenebre (1982) she’s Peter Neal’s secretary Anne, redubbed by
Theresa Russel of all people; here in Phenomena
she’s the sinister Frau Bruckner, again redubbed by Carolyn de Fonseca; in Opera (1987) she is Mira, and this was
the first time that her actual voice was used; and La Terza Madre (2007) she is Elisa Mandy (again with her own voice).
Donald
Pleasence is also quite good as the entomologist. Some have complained about
his performance, but I have never seen him give anything less than 100% in his
roles, however off-beat. His presence in a horror film is always welcome. Check
him out in Gary Sherman’s Death Line
(1972). He is unorthodox and brilliant.
The new
4K UHD Blu-ray standard edition from Synapse Films is gorgeous and only
contains 4K UHD Blu-rays. There are no standard Blu-rays or DVDs in this
package. Phenomena has more
detractors than admirers if you believe what you read, and even staunch
proponents of Mr. Argento’s vision (Maitland McDonagh and Alan Jones) have
written off the film as silly. However, the amount of love and dedication that
has been lavished upon this film restoring it to its former glory on Blu-ray
says volumes about those who cherish it. This set is absolutely beautiful and
definitely worth the price of an upgrade as it sports the following:
Two
4K UHD Blu-rays which consist of three (3) different cuts of the film, all
available in high-definition for the first time ever in one collector’s edition
package:
the
83-minute United States Creepers cut
in HD
the
110-minute International Phenomena
cut in HD
the 116-minute English/Italian hybrid
audio Phenomena cut in HD
Extras:
Disc One includes the Italian language cut of Phenomena.
There is a disclaimer: “No English audio exists for scenes unique to the
Italian version of Phenomena. This full-length version can be viewed
either entirely in Italian, or in a hybrid version which uses Italian audio in
instances where English audio is unavailable.” You can choose from English /
Italian Hybrid in 5.1 Surround, or Italian 5.1 Surround, or Italian 2.0
Surround.
There
is an audio commentary by Troy Howarth, author of Murder by Design: The
Unsane Cinema of Dario Argento (on Italian Version). Mr. Howarth proves
himself to be a fountain of knowledge about Italian horror and this film in
particular.
There
is a 2017 documentary produced by Arrow Films called Of Flies and Maggots,
which runs two hours(!), including interviews with co-writer/producer/director
Dario Argento, actors Fiore Argento, Davide Marotta, Daria Nicolodi and others.
Much of the information presented here is already familiar to die-hard fans,
but it is a welcome look at the film.
“Jennifer”
is a music video of the Phenomena theme by former Goblin member Claudio
Simonetti, directed by Dario Argento, and featuring Jennifer Connelly.
The
promotional materials consist of: the Italian theatrical trailer, the
International theatrical trailer, and a page-by-page replica of the Japanese
pressbook.
Disc Two consists of both the international cut of Phenomena
and the U.S. Creepers cut.
There
is an audio commentary track on Phenomena
(the 110-minute cut) moderated by film
historian, journalist and radio/television commentator David Del Valle, who
speaks exclusively with Argento scholar and Derek Botelho, author of the
excellent book The Argento Syndrome. The discussion is both spirited and
informative as Mr. Botelho clearly knows his stuff. I love listening to
commentaries that tell me anecdotes that I either forgot about or never knew
before, and there is plenty of interesting info here.
The
Three Sarcophagi is a
visual essay by Arrow Films producer Michael Mackenzie comparing the different
cuts of Phenomena, and it is enough to make your head spin trying to
keep track of the different versions. This piece runs 31 minutes.
Rounding out the extras are the U.S. theatrical trailer and
two U.S. radio spots for Creepers.
Phenomena is not Mr. Argento’s best. IMHO, Deep Red (1975) holds that title, and it also could be argued that Tenebrae
(1982) is a contender for that mantle as well. It is, however, a terrifically
entertaining murder mystery with some great set pieces and a driving score by
some members of Goblin among others, and the sort of gonzo film that the
Italian Maestro has not made since Opera in 1987.
1972 was a busy year
for the vice squad of the Metropolitan Police. Having only seized 140,000
obscene items from London’s sex shops the previous year, this time they managed
to grab over one million items, raiding sex shops, private cinemas and the
occasional warehouse. Obscenity generally meant pornography, and this could
take the guise of magazines, photos and films. This was the year when America
saw the release of Deep Throat
(Gerard Damiano), but there was no such porno
chic revolution in the UK. Hardcore pornography was illegal and produced secretly
on low budgets by daring, enterprising filmmakers whose work could land them in
jail, much like the American stag film producers of the 1930s and 1940s.
Britain had always been years behind, not only the States but Europe as well.
The early 1970s saw a boom in the production of pornography across the Western
world, with censorship laws either being relaxed or abolished in many
countries, something which the lawmakers and moral guardians of the UK watched
with great unease.
Despite its illegal
status there was still money to be made, and in this new book from academic
Benjamin Halligan we get some fascinating insight into the history of British
pornography and its connection to politics and the campaigning against it of
groups such as the Festival of Light. One filmmaker who seemed to have little
regard for the laws was the Scottish entrepreneur John Lindsay, who was known
for producing films frequently depicting schoolgirls or nuns. The films were
made for European distribution, but also found British customers through mail
order as well as being screened secretly in the sex cinemas of Soho.
As Halligan points
out in this fascinating study, as with many aspects of British culture, the
pornography of this time was often about class, with fantasies being played out
from sophisticated erotica in country houses and gentlemen’s clubs to
frustrated housewives and chambermaids encountering guests in their hotel rooms.
Individual filmmakers developed an almost auteur status in the industry and
became celebrities themselves, publishing autobiographies and documentaries on
the sex film industry. It wasn’t all just hardcore of course, with Britain’s
most famous sex film star Mary Millington moving away from hardcore to appear
in softcore sex comedies such as Come
Play With Me (George Harrison Marks, 1977), whose director was a true
pioneer in British glamour film and photography, producing dozens of books, 8mm
loops and feature films from the late 1950s.
Halligan has
uncovered a new canon of British filmmakers who for the most part have been
ignored in previous histories, who played an important role in this secretive,
frequently controversial world. He has watched hundreds of these “joyless
erotic films” which blurred into “one underlit and dingy tale of sexual
frustration… across housing estates, rainy holiday resorts and chintzy hotels”
as part of the research (being a historian is a tough job sometimes!) and as
such is able to give us a great overview of the films, their directors and
producers (generally those in front of the camera are uncredited and anonymous
so it is very difficult to identify who they might be). He explores the
difficulty the British government had in defining precisely what obscenity and
pornography were, which helped to create the grey areas that allowed those
involved to flourish despite the risks.
The book is divided
into three sections, exploring the notion of “The Permissive Society” and the
campaigners both for and against pornography and immoral behaviour, the
hardcore films of John Lindsay, George Harrison Marks and Russell Gay, and the
softcore (and therefore more commercially acceptable) worlds of Derek Ford and
David Hamilton Grant. As a coda, he explores the post-Thatcherite notions of
hardcore pornography, focusing on films set on council estates, which again
brings us back to class. In British film, as pointed out in the introduction
here, everything is really about class.
For anyone interested
in this occasionally murky aspect of British film industry, this is an
essential addition to a library which should also include the work of Simon Sheridan
and David McGillivray. As has been pointed out before, don’t let that high
price for the hardback put you off: this is an academic publication, which
means that a more affordable paperback should be along soon. If you can’t wait
that long, simply request a copy of Hotbeds
of Licentiousness from your local library. Perhaps they can supply it in a
plain brown wrapper.
In
May 1977 my parents and I saw George Lucas’s Star Wars and my life
changed forever. We saw it July with other family members and a third time in
November prior to the release of Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the
Third Kind (henceforth abbreviated as CE3K). The trailer
for CE3K was mysterious and intense to my young eyes and the prospect of
seeing it again led me to turn down my parent’s offer to sit through Star
Wars a second time after that afternoon’s showing. What frightened me about
the trailer was not the chaotic scenes with Richard Dreyfus and Melinda Dillon,
but rather the sequence wherein Bob Balaban and Francois Truffaut approach
Richard Dreyfuss in a claustrophobic makeshift room to interrogate him about
what he has seen, reminding me of my first trip to what I considered to be the
Ninth Circle of Hell: THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE. In retrospect, I am amused by
this memory and my initial impression of the film.
If
you look at the history of Steven Spielberg’s work, his films are about many
things, not the least of which is people’s impressions of the world around
them. Additionally, a common theme that runs throughout much of his work is the
notion of broken families or absent parents. Beginning with his film debut, The
Sugarland Express (1974), and continuing with the father who is not around
much for his young children in Jaws (1975), or a UFO-obsessed power
plant worker who leaves his family for other worlds in the aforementioned CE3K,
or a lonely young boy who feels a connection to an alien in E.T. The
Extra-Terrestrial (1982), or the broken family that needs to come together
to survive in War of the Worlds (2005), to name a few, authority figures
are often anything but authoritative. His latest film, the wonderful and semi-autobiographical
The Fabelmans, is a story that has existed in Mr. Spielberg’s mind all
his life and finally needed to come out during the height of the coronavirus
pandemic during worldwide downtime, if it was going to come out at all. Collaborating
with writer Tony Kushner for the fourth time, Mr. Spielberg gives the audience
a sense of what his turbulent childhood was like.
Although
Mr. Spielberg was born in Cincinnati, OH, his family moved around due to his
father’s position as an electrical engineer in the burgeoning computer industry.
In The Fabelmans, Burt Fabelman (Paul Dano standing in for real-life
father Arnold Spielberg) and Mitzi Fabelman (Michelle Williams standing in for
real-life mother Leah Adler) take their young son Sammy (Mateo Zoryan) to see his
first movie, Cecil B. DeMille's The Greatest Show on Earth, in Haddon
Township, NJ in 1952. The spectacular train crash seen on screen both
captivates and frightens him. Using his father’s 8mm camera with his mother’s
secretive permission, he recreates it with his train set that he received for
Hanukkah, and this gives Sammy the confidence to start shooting films involving
friends and his three younger sisters.
Years
later, Sammy is much older and now portrayed by Gabriel LaBelle. His father is
offered a better job, and this takes them to Phoenix, AZ along with Burt’s
friend and business associate Benny Loewy (played endearingly by Seth Rogen). Sammy
shoots footage of them all on a camping trip, including a headlight-illuminated
dance performed by his mother in her nightgown, which makes a deep impression
on Benny. Following Mitzi’s mother’s passing and her subsequent sadness, Burt urges
Sammy to create a little film of the camping trip to cheer her up, which he
does begrudgingly while he is shooting a film with his fellow Boy Scouts. In
the film’s most inspired moment, the family’s Uncle Boris (Judd Hirsch in a
wonderful performance) briefly visits, giving Sammy a spirited monologue about the
discord between art and familial responsibility. The turning point in the film
comes when Sammy sorts through the campfire footage, only to discover that
“Uncle” Benny is showing more than a passing interest in Mitzi: they are caught
holding hands and getting too close for comfort in the background images. Sammy
is shellshocked. After more strife, the family is uprooted yet again, this time
to Southern California, where he encounters both severe antisemitism at the
hands of two school bullies and experiences first love with a devoutly Christian
girl who puts Jesus first. More turmoil ensues, and Sammy ultimately learns to
use his natural gift for filmmaking to deal with personal traumas and bending
others to his will.
Steven
Spielberg is my favorite director, and he shares the number one spot for me in
a tie with Stanley Kubrick. Both men have made extraordinarily entertaining and
mind-bending films. It was a constant joy to watch The Fablemans as it
gives the audience a window into the person who would go on to become the
creative genius who not only makes great movies but is also and deservedly
financially successful at it.
I
met Leah Adler in November 2008 when I was getting ready to come home from a
horror film convention. She owned a restaurant called Milky
Way, which opened in
1977, and when I walked in, she was there to greet me. I began gushing about
her son, how CE3K was the first film of his that I saw and how it blew
me away, what Raiders of the Lost Ark and E.T. meant to me, etc.
She guided me over to a table and listened intently to my rambling, and when I
thanked her for encouraging Steven to become a filmmaker, she paused and simply
said, “I don’t know where the hell he came from.” This made me burst out
laughing as I have always thought of her son as the best friend I never met
(not entirely true: I waited outside the Ziegfeld Theater in June 2005 for
eight hours the day of the War of the Worlds premiere and managed to get
his autograph and snap a few photos of him). If he and I grew up together, we
would have been inseparable – watching movies, talking about movies, making
movies, you name it. My own parents were not movie fanatics by any means, and
they could just as easily have said the same thing about me! The few times that
my family went on vacation, I was enlisted to shoot the home movies. When I was
fourteen on vacation in Florida, I began shooting our home movies from a
cinematic perspective. This is due to Steven Spielberg.
Todd Garbarini with Leah Adler, November, 2008. (Photo: Todd Garbarini).
The
new 4K UHD Blu-ray and standard Blu-ray combo is now available from Valentine’s
Day, appropriate as this film is a Valentine to Mr. Spielberg’s parents. It
comes with some extras, and I had my fingers crossed that the director would
have provided an audio commentary (something that he flatly refuses to do as he
wants his films to speak for themselves and feels that it’s a way to lifting a
curtain behind the magic), however he has stuck to his guns and I must respect
his decision. It does feature some nice extras:
The
first piece is called The Fabelmans: A Personal Journey and runs 11:00.
It focuses on comments by producer Kristie Macosko Kriger, who is on board with
the director for the ninth time; co-writer Tony Kushner, and how the film came
about, the product of a conversation while the director was shooting Munich
in Malta in 2005.
The
second piece is named Family Dynamics and runs 15:28. Much of the cast
of the film discusses their feelings and interpretations of the real-life
people they portray in the film.
The
third and final extra is called Crafting the World of The Fabelmans and
runs 22:04. This is a bit more in-depth with input from Production Designer
Rick Carter; Costume Designer Mark Bridges; Directory of Photography Januz
Kaminski; Property Master Andrew M. Siegel; Editors Michael Khan (on his 30th
film with the director) and Sarah Broshar; Actress Chloe East; Actors Sam
Rechner and Oakes Fegley; and Maestro/Composer John Williams.
The set also includes a digital version for streaming.
While
the film is a no-brainer for Spielberg completists, being one is not a
prerequisite as it can be enjoyed as a work of fiction for those who do not
idolize the subject of the film.
The
Fabelmans is an example of
life not only imitating art, but art imitating life as well.
Poor
Orson Welles. After the critical success but box office failure that was Citizen
Kane (1941), it seemed as though the “boy genius” could never again get his
ultimate vision on the screen when he was working in Hollywood. The studio
butchered his second picture, The Magnificent Ambersons (1942), although
the version released is still pretty much a masterpiece and earned an Oscar
Best Picture nomination. Still, it didn’t make money. After that, Welles was persona
non grata in Hollywood, at least as a director. The studios were happy to
have him as an actor.
Nevertheless,
he continued to squeeze his way in and make more Hollywood pictures. He
produced, co-wrote, and acted in Journey Into Fear (1943), and the story
goes that he directed some of it uncredited (Norman Foster was the credited
director). Welles then made The Stranger (1946) as an attempt to prove
he could deliver a movie under budget and on time—and he did. The Stranger is
perhaps Welles’ most “conventional” motion picture and it made money.
Unfortunately, RKO (the studio that had made his previous three films) still
turned its back on Welles.
The
filmmaker’s next title, The Lady from Shanghai (1947), was made for
Columbia Pictures. Legend has it that Welles, who in 1946 was producing with
Mike Todd a Broadway stage musical based on Around the World in Eighty Days,
needed $50,000 to complete the budget so that the musical could open. He called
Harry Cohn, the head of Columbia, and offered to write and star in a movie for
that amount of money,and direct the picture for free and with no credit. Cohn
asked, “What do you have in mind?” It may be an apocryphal story, but Welles,
who was calling Cohn from a phone booth, either saw a woman reading a pulp
paperback or he spied it on a rack of books. It was called If I Die Before I
Wake, a 1938 potboiler by Raymond Sherwood King. Welles, off the cuff,
grabbed the book and read the blurb on the back to tell Cohn what the movie was
about, but he improvised the title, calling it The Lady from Shanghai. (And,
indeed, Welles does not receive a credit for directing—there is no directing
credit at all.)
Cohn
made the deal, but on one condition—it had to star Rita Hayworth, who was at
the time Columbia’s biggest star. The problem with that was that Hayworth and
Welles were married, but their union was on the rocks. They were estranged from
each other.
But,
hey, both Welles and Hayworth were professionals. They could work together. And
they did. Welles assembled the cast, wrote the script, and proceeded to film on
location (New York, San Francisco, out at sea) so that no one would interfere
with the work. Of course, he went over budget and delivered a movie that was
three hours long. Cohn went berserk, took the film away from Welles, and cut it
down to approximately 90 minutes. Once again, Welles’ “vision” was hijacked.
And
yet… AND
YET… The Lady from Shanghai is a MARVELOUS motion picture! No, it wasn’t
well received by the critics or the public in 1948 when it was finally released
(it had premiered in France in 1947)… but time is often kind to movies made by
Orson Welles, and today The Lady from Shanghai is considered a film
noir classic.
Film
noir (not
a term used at the time) was big in the late 1940s. Movies like Double
Indemnity, The Big Sleep, The Postman Always Rings Twice, The
Killers, and Out of the Past were coming out fast and furiously. The
Lady from Shanghai and The Stranger are Welles’ contributions to
that stylistic movement of dark shadows, high contrast lighting,
Expressionistic design, cynical and hard-boiled characters, and crime that
doesn’t pay.
Michael
O’Hara (Welles) is an out of work seaman who meets gorgeous Elsa Bannister
(Hayworth) in Central Park one evening. He immediately falls for her, even
though she is married to one of the country’s most accomplished defense
attorneys, Arthur Bannister (Everett Sloane). O’Hara is hired to be a crewman
on Bannister’s yacht as the couple sails around North America, through the
Panama Canal, from New York to San Francisco. Along the way, Bannister’s sleazy
business partner, George Grisby (stage actor Glenn Anders, in an extraordinary,
eccentric performance), asks O’Hara to “kill” him in a plot to fake his own
death. O’Hara would be paid enough money for he and Elsa to run away together.
Ah, but nothing is what it seems. Grisby is, of course, setting up O’Hara for a
big fall, and Elsa is, you guessed it, a femme fatale.
The
plot is rather complex and there was much critical lashing at the time of the
movie’s release that it was “incomprehensible,” but this is simply not the
case. Even though Columbia deleted 1-1/2 hours from Welles’ rough cut, the
story still makes sense… and as film noir expert Eddie Muller explains
on one of the Blu-ray disk’s supplements, what isn’t explained in the movie can
easily be interpreted by audiences who are somewhat intelligent. (He calls it a
“film noir poem.”)
The
most memorable sequence is the famed climax that takes place at an abandoned
amusement park outside San Francisco. The chase and ultimate shootout in an old
fun house made up of a mirror maze has been copied many times in subsequent
motion pictures (Enter the Dragon and The Man with the Golden Gun,
for example). But the surreal quality of Welles’ direction of this sequence
reminds one of the surrealist paintings of Salvador Dalí, and it is masterfully presented. Supposedly the scene was
to have lasted nearly twenty minutes. If only we could see what ended up on the
cutting room floor!
The new Blu-ray edition from Kino
Lorber looks exquisite. The glorious black and white cinematography (by the
credited Charles Lawton Jr., with uncredited work by Rudolph Maté and Joseph
Walker) is sharp and clear. There are three different audio commentaries
one can choose to accompany the film: one by film historian Imogen Sara Smith,
another by novelist and critic Tim Lucas, and another by filmmaker Peter
Bogdanovich, who spent a lot of his later career commenting on Welles’ life and
work. An additional video supplement is an interview with Bogdanovich about the
making of the movie. A video interview with Eddie Muller shines a light on the
apocryphal tales of the movie’s production. Finally, the theatrical trailer
rounds out the package.
The Lady from Shanghai is a top-notch gem, and the new Kino Lorber release is a
good way to experience it. For fans of film noir, Orson Welles, and Rita
Hayworth. Highly recommended.