“WHERE PIES GO WHEN THEY DIE”

By Raymond Benson

Unless you’re too young to remember it, you’ll recall that Twin Peaks was a short-lived phenomenon on television in the year 1990. The frenzy lasted into 1991 but sadly fizzled out quickly due to the network’s (ABC) futzing around with time slots, days-of-the-week for airing, and unexplained hiatuses. What began as the number one show on television for several months somehow derailed during its underrated second season and lost its viewership. The program was cancelled, leaving the fans of the series with an unresolved cliffhanger that haunts us to this day.

David Lynch and Mark Frost were the men behind Twin Peaks. At the time, in the late 80s, Lynch was just coming off the success of his 1986 feature film, Blue Velvet, when he teamed up with TV veteran Frost to create a PG-rated show that explored many of the same themes as Velvet—only for a television audience. The fictional town of Twin Peaks, in Washington state, is gorgeous (those beautiful Douglas firs!), has a diner that serves the best pies in the world, and a seemingly “normal” population of families and mill workers. However, like in Blue Velvet, a dark underbelly exists beneath the safe exterior, one that is supernatural and evil.

The thrust of the show’s first season and half of the second season what solving the mystery of “who killed Laura Palmer?” Once that storyline was resolved, it was clear that the writers and creators weren’t sure where to go from there. The episodes did falter a bit mid-second-season, but for my money, they found their footing in the last quarter with the new storyline involving master criminal Windom Earle. The show was just building to a new dramatic peak (no pun intended) when the axe fell.

Lynch bounced back quickly, though, and made a feature film, released in 1992, entitled Twin Peaks—Fire Walk With Me. Not many people liked it, including the die-hard fans of the show (who had, in Star Trek fashion, begun letter-writing campaigns to the network with pleas to renew the show). What was wrong with the feature film? It lacked the quirky humor and most of the eccentric characters from the TV show and instead focused on the very sordid and tragic story of Laura Palmer’s final week of life before her murder. It also didn’t address the cliffhanger ending of the series—or did it? At any rate, the movie failed, and the Twin Peaks phenomenon was over.

However, the aforementioned die-hard fans formed fan clubs, an annual pilgrimage to the show’s locations in Washington state, and the cult grew over the last twenty-four years. It is now generally recognized that Twin Peaks was way ahead of its time and that it was the catalyst for the “episodic” television dramas that came after it—Northern Exposure, The X-Files, and pretty much everything else we watch today cable channels. Twin Peaks showed the networks that audiences would stick with a storyline that developed over many episodes. It was a new way of doing things on television. The show was also groundbreaking in that it dared to take viewers into surrealistic territory—something that hadn’t been done since, say, 1968’s mini-series of The Prisoner. Twin Peaks also began the cult of water-cooler discussions the next day at work. “What did that mean?” “Who was that dancing dwarf?” “I think so-and-so killed Laura.” “No, I think whozit did.” And so on.

As the years went by, several releases of the show on VHS and later DVD exacerbated the confusion because the two-hour pilot episode (1:34 without commercials) was owned by a different company and was never issued in America. People were buying the two seasons without seeing the all-important, foundation-laying pilot (and still the best “episode” of the entire story). This was rectified in 2007 with the “Definitive Gold Box” DVD release that contained both complete seasons, remastered with bonus material (but not Fire Walk With Me). Additionally, over the years, it was learned that Lynch’s initial cut of Fire Walk With Me was nearly four hours long and it did contain scenes with the other characters from the town. The director had been forced to cut the movie down to a manageable 2:15 by contract, so he decided to just focus on Laura’s story. Fans have been howling for these “missing pieces” to be released, but the rights were tied up in legal and financial complexities.

Finally, we now have it all. These “missing pieces” have been assembled, remastered, and edited by Lynch himself to create a somewhat “new” Twin Peaks movie (called, of course, “The Missing Pieces”). This Holy Grail for Peaks fans, along with the gorgeously restored and digitally remastered Fire Walk With Me (first Blu-ray release in the USA) and the two television seasons with pilot, now comprise Twin Peaks—The Entire Mystery, a lavish box set that begs to be devoured with several slices of pie and some of that “damned good coffee.”

Watching “The Missing Pieces” emphasizes how much better Fire Walk With Me would have been had Lynch been allowed to release the longer version. It would have felt more like the television series. There are sequences that help explain a lot about the ending of the show, too. While Lynch elected to remain vague about FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper’s fate in the Black Lodge and his earthly body’s possession by BOB the Killer, there are clues in the “Missing Pieces” that at the very least address the situation.

The theatrical cut of Fire Walk With Me needs to be critically reassessed as well, now that we’ve seen many more David Lynch films of its ilk (Lost Highway, Mulholland Drive, Inland Empire). It works best if you think of the picture as a horror film—which it is—and a very disturbing one at that. Sheryl Lee delivers a courageous and brilliant performance as Laura, far surpassing anything she did on the television series.

As for the two seasons of the show, Kyle MacLachlan is a revelation as Agent Cooper—this was the role the actor was born to play. Other standouts in the cast are Michael Ontkean, Ray Wise, Grace Zabriskie, Lara Flynn Boyle, Sherilyn Fenn, James Marshall, Dana Ashbrook, Madchen Amick, Eric Da Re, Everett McGill, and Jack Nance.

Other extras in the box set include new video interviews between Lynch and the Palmer family (Leland, Sarah, and Laura), and then the actors who portrayed them (Wise, Zabriskie, and Lee). Very effective stuff. There is a new Fire Walk With Me making-of documentary, a couple of documentaries ported over from the 2007 Gold box, the Blu-ray version of the “international” pilot, and some new collages of “atmospheres” from the show that combine imagery and music into short, themed vignettes.

Now, twenty-five years later, Twin Peaks—The Entire Mystery serves as a reminder that Lynch and Frost’s show was even more brilliant than it was first suggested, and that it needs to be rediscovered and re-evaluated. There is much to savor.

Don’t forget the pie and coffee.

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Dick Smith, widely regarded as one of the all-time great Hollywood makeup artists, has passed away at age 92. Among his crowning achievements: designing the makeup for Marlon Brando in "The Godfather", Linda Blair in "The Exorcist" , an ancient Dustin Hoffman in "Little Big Man" and F. Murray Abraham as the aging Salieri in "Amadeus".  Smith also designed the makeup for young Hal Holbrook in his landmark 1967 TV special "Mark Twain Tonight". Smith was still being accorded honors as recently as this year. Smith's other films include "The Godfather Part II", "Marathon Man" and "The Deer Hunter". For more click here

The restored Detroit movie palace, The Redford Theatre, will present a special screening of Christopher Guest's hilarious "Best in Show" on August 3. In attendance will be one of the film's stars, actor/comedian Fred Willard. The program will also include improv comedy on stage. For more click here

In an amusing interview with Marlow Stern of the Daily Beast, Woody Allen plugs his latest romantic comedy, Magic in the Moonlight but also addresses any number of other issues ranging from his friendship with Diane Keaton and the reason they no longer make films together to the endless strife in the Middle East to the reason why he rarely appears as an actor in anyone else's films ("Nobody offers me anything!). The Woodman used to avoid interviews like the plague but in recent years he's become more receptive about doing them and in this case, he actually seems to enjoy the experience. Click here to read. 

Actor James Shigeta has died at age 81. Born in Honolulu, Shigeta became a singing star in Japan- despite not knowing how to speak the language. In the 1950s and 1960s, he- along with actress Nancy Kwan- broke racial barriers in Hollywood. It was traditional for caucasian actors to play Asian leading characters. However, the handsome Shigeta landed a lead role in the film version of the Broadway hit musical Flower Drum Song, starring alongside Kwan. The film was significant in that all the leading roles were played by Asian actors. Shigeta, riding high from good reviews, carved a successful career in television and theatrical feature films. Among his credits were the Elvis Presley film Paradise, Hawaiian Style, Bridge to the Sun, Midway, the ill-fated 1973 musical remake of Lost Horizon and the blockbuster 1988 action film Die Hard. For more click here .  

(Nancy Kwan discusses her friendship with James Shigeta and the breaking of racial stereotypes in the latest issue of Cinema Retro, #29)  

Ron Howard has announced he is working on a major documentary tracing the live performances given by the Beatles up to their final concert in San Francisco at Candlestick Park in 1966. Howard is doing the film in cooperation with Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Olivia Harrison and Yoko Ono and Apple Corps will be producing. The relationships between the Beatles had been famously fractured throughout the decades. After John Lennon's assassination, Ringo, Paul and George Harrison did team for a tribute song to him titled "All Those Years Ago". The three were also interviewed separately for "The Beatles Anthology" video and music project. The tensions between McCartney on Ono ultimately led to the breakup up the band but apparently in their golden years, their relationship seems to have improved, as evidenced by their mutual cooperation on the Howard film. The movie is set for release next year and Howard is said to have tracked down enough footage to make the project viable. 

BY FRED BLOSSER

George Pal’s “The Time Machine” (1960) is an iconic science-fiction movie. For more than a half-century, from the big screen to perennial TV broadcasts to a wide range of home-video formats, it has rarely been out of sight or beyond reach. On the other hand, Alejandro Jodorowsky’s “Dune” is famous among SF and cinema aficionados precisely because it is unobtainable. It was conceptualized but never produced.

Both films, the real and the phantom, are highlighted in new Blu-ray products released coincidentally this month on the same day, July 8.

Pal’s movie, adapted from the classic 1895 H.G. Wells novel, is nostalgically remembered by us “monster kids” of the Space Age generation. My formative viewing was my first, as a 10-year-old watching the film in a theater on its initial release. The new Blu-ray edition from Warner Home Video offered the chance to sit down and give the movie careful attention again, not simply snatch glimpses of favorite scenes in occasional cable broadcasts.

I was particularly curious to see if Pal’s vision held up against criticisms that the film is too old-fashioned for today’s younger audiences yet too much of a kiddie movie for adults, that it plays too fast and loose with the revered novel, that the technical effects are hopelessly antiquated in today’s CGI world. I’m happy to say with benefit of grown-up critical acumen that the movie didn’t disappoint. The visual elements and production values were as polished and engaging as I remembered them, the script by David Duncan was thoughtful, inventive, and fundamentally respectful to Wells, and the actors hit all the right notes in their performances with old-school professionalism and charm.

Among Wells purists, it’s widely asserted that Pal’s “The Time Machine” betrays the novel because it deviates from Wells’ basic, thought-provoking speculation about humanity’s evolutionary destiny and simplifies his conception of the far-future world of 802,701 to which the Time Machine travels. The protagonist of the novel, referred to only as the Time Traveler, finds that our distant descendants have separated into two new species. The indolent, physically childlike Eloi live in leisure aboveground in a communal society, apparently without industry or government. The brutish Morlocks lurk underground, able to come out only in dusk or darkness.

The Time Traveler theorizes that the two species are the evolutionary outcome of social divisions that began in his own time, when the idle rich and the miserable urban poor began to draw further and further apart. He comes to realize that the Eloi are no more than “mere fatted cattle” whose clothes and food are provided by the Morlocks. The underground people sustain the Eloi for the ultimate purpose of eating them.

In the movie, the dynamic between the two species, the eater and the eaten, remains the same. However, in the movie’s version of 802,701, the Time Traveler, George (Rod Taylor), discovers that the Eloi and Morlocks divided as the result of war and devastation over eons, not class differences. As repeated attacks and reprisals with nuclear and chemical weapons poisoned the surface of the earth, societies fled underground to survive. One branch of humanity eventually returned to the surface after nature recovered, and the other remained below. George learns this history from recordings on “talking rings” that he finds in a ruined museum to which the Eloi guide him.

Given that the social concerns of 1895 were unlikely to pull American audiences of 1960 into their local movie houses, it’s difficult to fault Pal and Duncan for updating the story to reflect the more compelling contemporary fear of A-bomb and H-bomb annihilation. Pausing in the year 1966, George barely escapes the strike of an “atomic satellite” that destroys London, a frightening image then and still a disturbing one now. In hindsight, this apocalyptic vision gives the movie its own flavor as social documentary that tells today’s youngsters more about the mindset of the Cold War than any dry textbook. And it also provides a framework for the overall story that, arguably, tightens its dramatic structure for the screen.

Where Wells’ Time Traveler was motivated by scientific curiosity, Taylor’s character wants to escape his own era. Scanning headlines of military mobilization for the Boer War, he says, “I don’t much care for the time I was born into. People aren’t dying fast enough these days. They call upon science to invent a new, more efficient weapon to depopulate the earth.” He sets off from 1899 to find a more congenial future, but in visiting 1917, 1940, and 1966, he discovers that societies will only continue to seek “more effective means of destroying each other.” The Eloi and the Morlocks are the logical outcome. In 802,701, he watches as the Eloi dazedly march to their doom in the Morlock underworld through the open door of a sinister Great Sphinx (splendid visualization of a key image from the novel). They are hypnotically lured by the same wail of sirens that herded Londoners into their bomb shelters in 1966.

Whether Duncan wandered too far from Wells’ model is mostly a matter of personal taste (and in the novel, Wells’ narrative leaves open the possibility that the Time Traveler’s class theory is the likely explanation but not necessarily the right one). As an artistic question, credit Duncan and Pal for incorporating their changes skillfully and thoughtfully. For that matter, Wells himself may have approved had he lived long enough to consult with the moviemakers: in later years, he increasingly brooded on the threat of humanity destroying itself in global war, as dramatized in his own script for the venerable 1936 movie “Things to Come,” directed by William Cameron Menzies.

Fortunately, the movie’s prediction of atomic wipeout in 1966 was never realized, but its anticipation of the Eloi society as mop-haired, passive blond teens (another modification from Wells’ conception, but not completely different, if you read the book closely) seems inspired. By the end of the decade, Pal’s Eloi had arrived in the form of the Boomers’ hippie, surfer, and stoner cultures.

Should you invest in the new Blu-ray edition? That may depend on whether or not you’re a completest who wants “The Time Machine” in every available video format. By and large, the color and clarity of the image appears to be incrementally better than the earlier DVD, released by Warner in 2000 -- I’ll leave that judgment to consumers with a sharper eye and higher-end equipment than mine -- but the package doesn’t expand on the earlier DVD extras of the movie’s theatrical trailer and a featurette.

The latter, “The Time Machine: The Journey Back,” originally produced for TV in 1993, features then-new interviews with Taylor, co-star Alan Young, and the movie’s creative FX technicians, and a skit with Taylor, Young, and supporting actor Whit Bissell. The skit apparently incorporated material that Pal developed for a never-produced sequel. The veteran technicians’ remarks about the movie’s stop-motion, time-lapse, matte, and other pre-CGI effects are fascinating, and it’s heartening to see talented movie people enthusiastically describe their creative work and speak fondly of their colleagues, but if you have the DVD, you have the featurette.

Click here to order the Warner Home Video Blu-ray from Amazon.

To celebrate the UK Blu-ray release of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, food artist Carl Warner has fashioned a unique tribute to the film made entirely from pasta! We'll admit it looks magnificent, Carl-- but we're still waiting for that King Kong tribute made from bananas. Here is the official press release:

World renowned food artist Carl Warner has produced his culinary interpretation of the classic ‘Spaghetti Western’ film trilogy, made entirely from spaghetti and other Italian ingredients.

In his film foodscape debut, Warner has brought Sergio Leone’s masterpiece The Good, The Bad and The Ugly to life using traditional Italian ingredients from pasta to pancetta, to celebrate the re-mastered Blu-ray release of the and to mark the 90^th Anniversary of the studio MGM.

Warner, who was born in Liverpool, produced the foodscape in his studio down the road from Borough market, where he sourced a lot of the authentic Italian ingredients.

“Over my 25 year career this is the first time I have brought a film scene to life,” said Warner. “Having grown up with the Spaghetti Western trilogy, the imagery and music from those films are indelibly printed in my childhood memories and lent themselves so perfectly to my style that it was the perfect canvas for my film foodscape debut.”

“The term Spaghetti Western was coined because of the films’ Italian origins, and I have been inspired by Italian ingredients throughout my career, but was surprised how well they lent themselves to Sergio Leone’s stunning vistas and the central figure of The Man With No Name, portrayed so brilliantly by Clint Eastwood.”

Warner produced the foodscape following a trip to Turin, where he sourced a lot of the ingredients and found much inspiration. The iconic scene in which the mysterious figure of The Man With No Name stands among a bleak graveyard in the dessert was created using over twenty different Italian ingredients, including gnocchi, various pastas, risotto, dried herbs, parma ham, bresaola beef, parmesan, polenta, olives, Italian breads and, of course, spaghetti.

“Pasta is very much the Lego of the food world and I find these fantastic Italian ingredients really lend themselves to natural looking desert and Mediterranean landscapes,” added Warner. “There is a real organic element to the compositional values of the food – from pasta shells forming rocks to dried spaghetti making perfect tumbleweed, through to the swirling layers of white cooked spaghetti bringing the skies to life, partly inspired by Van Gogh’s work.”

“These films were very off the wall and really broke the mould for westerns, so this slightly surreal nature really compliments the surreal nature of my art. To bring to life this trilogy as part of my ongoing Foodscape is not only a great privilege but has been such a joy to create.”

The image took weeks of planning and was created by Carl in his Borough studio over two days.

 (The Good, The Bad & The Ugly Re-mastered Edition is available on Blu-ray now from MGM and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment.)

It's that time of year again when the Super Monster-Rama is shown at the Riverside Drive-in in Vandergrift, PA. Two nights of 35mm monster flicks that go all through the evening, including some Hammer horror classics. Click here for details. 

Linda Lovelace, star of the first mainstream porn flick, Deep Throat.

Rolling Stone presents an interesting slide show photo presentation of 8 notorious porn stars whose careers were affected for better or worse by some scandal that made national news. Click here to read.

By Lee Pfeiffer 

It may come as news that Samuel Fuller, the macho director of such films as The Naked Kiss, Shock Corridor, Pickup on South Street, The Steel Helmet and The Big Red One, had a second career as a novelist. Fuller, whose films were largely under-appreciated in America during his lifetime, went into self-imposed exile in France, where his work was exalted. He was nursing some hurt feelings over Paramount refusing a theatrical release for his final film "White Dog", a 1982 drama that dealt with sensitive racial issues that frightened the marketing team at the studio. In France, Fuller's  literary endeavors also found a receptive audience there. His final novel before his death in 1997 was titled Brainquake. Written in the early 1990s, it centers on a bag man for the mob who suffers from periodic seizures, the result of a bullet wound to the brain. He ends up falling for a fellow mobster's widow and absconds with $10 million in mob money, an act that leads to a contract being placed on him. The book was published in France but never in the English language. Now, the Hard Case Crime publishing group will debut the novel in August to celebrate Fuller's birthday. It marks the first time the novel will be available in English. The book boasts an appropriately impressive noirish cover painting by Glen Orbik that harkens back to the golden age of pulp fiction. There is also an afterword by publisher Charles Ardai, who provides an interesting an informative overview of Fuller's life and career as well as the background story on the writing of this book.  Highly recommended.  

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UPDATED

"Batman", the classic 1960s TV series, is finally coming to home video after years of legal complications. Warner Home Video will release on Blu-ray and DVD on November 11. 

The set will contain all 120 remastered episodes of the the three seasons the show ran and will contain a Batcave full of extras. Among them: a Hotwheels replica of the Batmobile, a letter from Adam West and photos derived from his personal scrapbook and replicas of vintage trading cards. 

For more, including a promotional preview, click here. 

Click here to pre-order Blu-ray limited edition.

Click here to pre-order standard DVD set.  

THE ULTIMATE SLUMBER PARTY

By Raymond Benson

There are certain films that capture the zeitgeist of an era, and The Big Chill is definitely one of them. If a movie like, say, Annie Hall, hits the nail on the head of urban relationships in the late 70s, then Chill embraces the Baby Boomers’ angst of adulthood in the early 80s—a time when the partying and discoing Carter years were undoubtedly over and we, in the USA, were solidly entrenched in Reagan’s world of hippies-turned-yuppies. The Big Chill is a love letter to the Baby Boomers, as it explores themes of regret over wasted opportunities, friendship and camaraderie, nostalgia, and the eternal question of what-happens-next.

Director and co-writer Kasdan, in a recent video interview (included as an extra on the disk), states that one of his influences for the picture was Jean Renoir’s 1939 classic, The Rules of the Game, which also dealt with an ensemble of characters coming together for a reunion at a country house. While the former film is bigger, more populated, and infinitely more complex than The Big Chill, one can definitely see the similarities. So-and-so has a history with whozit, but whozit is now married to you-know-who; whereas, you-know-who is really in love with so-and-so... and, well, you get the idea.

In The Big Chill, a group of close-knit friends from college reunite for the funeral of one of their own. Alex (who was played by Kevin Costner in flashback sequences that were ultimately edited out of the picture), was staying in Harold (Kevin Kline) and Sarah’s (Glenn Close) country home in South Carolina and committed suicide there. Alex apparently had an affair with Sarah (who is married to Harold). Vietnam vet and druggie Nick (William Hurt) once had a thing with hot-stuff but now-married Karen (JoBeth Williams), but Karen was really in love with hunky, now-TV-star Sam (Tom Berenger). Nerdy-and-socially-inept Michael (Jeff Goldblum) and smart-but-bitter Meg (Mary Kay Place) got it on in the past, but today Meg just wants to have a baby as a single mom and Michael is just, well, horny. But really, none of these histories make much difference on the story or unfolding of events during the weekend at the house. Over the course of the film’s 105 minutes, the characters laugh, fight, dance, expound philosophy, laugh some more, reflect on their lives, have sex (some of them do), and bond again with their “family.” Anyone who has gone to college can most likely relate.

Kevin Kline and Glenn Close

The intelligent script by Kasdan and Barbara Benedek was nominated for an Original Screenplay Oscar, and the film was nominated for Best Picture of ’83. Oddly, Glenn Close received the only acting nomination (Supporting Actress), whereas Goldblum, Place, and especially Hurt probably deserved nods as well (Goldblum certainly has the best lines!).

Then there’s the soundtrack, which is the ultimate Baby Boomer collection of rock and soul gems from the late 60s and early 70s—the period in which the characters were in college in Michigan. Isn’t it true that our favorite music is still what we heard in high school and college? In this case, there’s a lot of Motown, sprinkled with some Rolling Stones, Three Dog Night, Procol Harum, and other iconic pieces from the era. The music is as much a part of the film as is the characters. Perhaps it is a character.

The new, restored 4K digital film transfer, supervised by DP John Bailey and approved by Kasdan, looks terrific on Blu-ray. There’s an alternate remastered 5.1 surround soundtrack, presented in DTS-HD Master Audio on the Blu-ray disc. Extras include the aforementioned interview with Kasdan, a reunion roundtable discussion with the cast and some crew in 2013 (it’s interesting to note that none of the women in the cast bought into the plotline in which Sarah lets her husband Harold sleep with Meg as a favor), a documentary from 1998 on the making of the picture, deleted scenes (unfortunately, though, none with Costner), and the usual excellent essays in the enclosed booklet (one by Lena Dunham).

If you’ve never seen The Big Chill, now’s the time to do it. And if you have, maybe it’s time for a reunion with old friends.

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Film historian Max Tohline provides a fascinating 13 minute video essay that delves into insights about the editing process used in Sergio Leone's "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly". Even if you've seen the film countless times (as we have!), this is sure to give you a renewed appreciation for the work of director Sergio Leone and his editors. Click here to view. (Thanks to reader Vip Patel for the head's up on this.) 

BY ADRIAN SMITH

Have you ever wondered what M*A*S*H would have been like if, instead of rebelling in a Korean field hospital and taking a satirical swipe at the Vietnam war, Elliott Gould and Donald Sutherland had actually been CIA operatives in contemporary Paris? Probably not, but somebody in 1974 did and commissioned a film that would be marketed solely on the chemistry of its two leads. Sadly no one else involved with movie seemed to think it worthwhile to write a decent script or throw any money into the project. This film looks so cheap that, during a scene where Sutherland is washing up, you suspect that he was doing this between takes as well.

Gould and Sutherland play agents Griff and Bruland, who are both working separately in Paris until an accidental assassination attempt by their own agency brings them together. Incidentally this bombing takes place in a pissoire (urinal), which gives an early indication of how grubby this film will get. Martinson, played by British actor Joss Ackland, is the Chief of the Paris branch of the CIA, and to make amends for nearly killing them, he puts them together on a new case. Their task is to smuggle a defector from the Russian Olympic team back to New York. However, when rival British agents get involved, it all goes horribly wrong, and once again Griff and Bruland narrowly escape a CIA bomb. So now they are rogue ex-agents out to survive attempts on their lives whilst earning money through shady deals involving French revolutionaries, the Russian ambassador and the Chinese secret service. Much farce ensues.

The film, shot in the UK and on location in Paris, plays more like a Bob Hope and Bing Crosby Road to... movie, or, with the heavy British influence, the Morecambe and Wise film The Magnificent Two. Ackland is like a poor man's Herbert Lom from the Pink Panther films, and Sutherland and Gould play the film like they used to have fun together a few years ago, but not so much any more. A lot of the film feels like the director is time filling. A return trip from Paris to London serves no other purpose than to allow for stock travel footage. This is perhaps a surprise when you learn that the director is none other than Irvin Kershner, who started out in film noir but is best known for saving the Star Wars franchise with The Empire Strikes Back. S*P*Y*S represents something of a low in his CV.

For reasons most likely forgotten, the film had a score by Jerry Goldsmith on its US release, but in Europe a new score was recorded by John Scott, a jazz musician whose career now spans more than fifty years, covering everything from horror and sexploitation to TV themes and epics. His score for S*P*Y*S, found on this new DVD release, is fairly conventional, and in all likelihood the audience will be too busy straining to hear anything funny from the cast to notice it.

One point of interest here is that the film offers an appearance of Zouzou, who plays a sexy revolutionary. In the 1960s, through her involvement with Brian Jones of The Rolling Stones, she became a celebrity and French icon before trying singing and acting. Addicted to heroin she dropped out of acting shortly after S*P*Y*S, presumably because she watched it.

Fans of Elliott Gould or Donald Sutherland will no doubt want to pick this up, but for everyone else it is a less than essential release. With a plot that can be found in countless Euro-spy and Bond rip-offs, and unable to compensate for this with sparkling wit or charm, S*P*Y*S has little to offer. Watch M*A*S*H again instead.

This new DVD release from Network Releasing features a decent print. The colours are rather drab, but one suspects that is how the film has always looked. As mentioned, the soundtrack features the European rather than the original Jerry Goldsmith score. The only extras are a rather brief stills gallery and the original theatrical trailer, which really hammers home just how great it will be to see Gould and Sutherland do their thing again. If only it  proved to be true...

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(This film is out of print on American DVD)

Woody Allen's Take the Money and Run was pivotal in launching his career as a credible actor and leading man. Although considered a comedy classic today, the 1969 film actually lost money at the time of its release.

By Brian Hannan

All you need is top stars and top directors and making movies is easy. Surely you couldn’t miss with a line-up that included Sean Connery, Steve McQueen, Michael Caine, Dustin Hoffman, Lee Marvin, Omar Sharif, and directors of the calibre of Robert Aldrich (hot after The Dirty Dozen), John Boorman (Point Blank) and Woody Allen. Or so ABC must have thought when it set up a movie division in the late 1960s. Delving into the archives recently, I discovered that Sam Peckinpah’s rodeo picture Junior Bonner (1972) starring Steve McQueen was a box office stinkeroo. The picture lost $2.8m (about $15m in today’s money). Not just on domestic release, but worldwide.

The movie was made by ABC in a disastrous five-year foray into the movie business and McQueen was not alone in being on the receiving end of a lot of red ink. The Sean Connery-Brigitte Bardot western Shalako (1968) directed by the veteran Edward Dymytryk (The Carpetbaggers, The Young Lions) was another loser - $1.25m down the drain. At least Peckinpah redeemed himself with Straw Dogs (1973) starring Hoffman which ponied up $1.45m in profits. Lee Marvin in John Boorman’s war film Hell in the Pacific (1968) dug a box office foxhole so deep it buried a loss of $4.1m. But the biggest loser was Michael Caine. War picture Too Late the Hero (1970), directed by Robert Aldrich and equally set in the Pacific, kissed goodbye to a colossal $6.7m. And that was not the worst of it for Caine. The Last Valley (1971), a historical drama set in the One Hundred Years War in medieval Europe, written and directed by James Clavell (writer of Tai Pan and director of To Sir with Love) and co-starring Omar Sharif, tanked to the tune of $7.1. Aldrich had little luck with ABC – his lesbian drama The Killing of Sister George (1968) starring Susannah York lost $750,000 and kidnap thriller The Grissom Gang (1971) another $3m.

The Oscar-nominated They Shoot Horses, Don’t They that restored Jane Fonda’s acting credibility was $1.2m shy of break-even. Even Woody Allen’s magic touch deserted him – Take the Money and Run (1969) in the hole for $610,000. Check out the resume of Exorcist author and Exorcist III director William Peter Blatty and you won’t find mention of Mastermind, starring Zero Mostel. At one point it was set for a May 1970 release, but never saw the light of day. All told ABC lost $47m before it threw in the towel.

Brian Hannan is the author of The Making of the Guns of Navarone (Baroliant Press).

UPDATE: The information contained in this article was derived from a 1973 article in Variety. It should be pointed out that the grosses cited for Shalako were U.S. only. Producer Euan Lloyd had different film companies buy the rights to release the film in various countries. ABC controlled the American rights. Also, funding for the film would not have come strictly from ABC. Lloyd would finance his productions by pre-selling them to various international territories, so ABC would not have funded the entire cost of the film. As the production was said to have done considerable business in the international market, it may well be that it was a profitable venture. 

Artist Pete Emslie's tribute to Garner. (Courtesy of The Cartoon Cave),

By Lee Pfeiffer

Hollywood lost another member of its rapidly diminishing roster of stars who can truly be called legends. James Garner has passed away from natural causes following years of battling severe health issues that kept him out of the public eye. He was 86 years old. Like many actors of his generation, he drifted into the profession as an unlikely candidate for stardom. Garner served in the Korean War and was awarded two Purple Hearts, a fact he was characteristically humble about discussing. He landed some parts in "A" list feature films in the late 1950s before starring as Bret Maverick in the smash hit TV series "Maverick". His popularity exploded in the 1960s when he became part of a select number of TV stars to successfully transfer their popularity to the big screen. Garner made a major impression as a charismatic con/man grifter in John Sturges' star-packed 1963 classic "The Great Escape". This was followed by a truly inspired performance as a coward who is "chosen" by cynical Naval brass to be the first American serviceman killed at D-Day in the controversial hit comedy "The Americanization of Emily". His ability to alternate between dramatic roles and light comedy saw him star opposite Doris Day in the hit comedies "Move Over, Darling" and "The Thrill of It All". An avid and respected race car driver in real life, Garner also top-lined director John Frankenheimer's big budget 1966 Cinerama film "Grand Prix". Like Cary Grant, Garner's winning personality often made people overlook his acting skills with the notion among critics that he was just playing himself. He did receive a Best Actor nomination late in his career for the 1985 film "Murphy's Romance", a gentle comedy/drama in which he starred with Sally Field. In the 1970s, Garner returned to TV and had a smash hit series with "The Rockford Files", a lighthearted detective show that saw him nominated for numerous Emmys and winning one. He would revive the role again in TV movies in the 1990s. In the 1980s, a series of amusing Polaroid commercials cast him as the husband of actress Marietta Hartley. The spots became so popular that many people thought they were married in real life. In more recent years, Garner won acclaim for starring in dramatic TV movies. He had a co-starring role with Mel Gibson in the hit 1994 big screen version of "Maverick" and another major success co-starring with Clint Eastwood in "Space Cowboys" in the year 2000. 

Garner is survived by his wife Lois, to whom he was married for 56 years. 

For more, click here 

By Don L. Stradley

Arbor's life is rough. He's 13, he's on medication to control his mood swings, his brother is a drug addict, and his mother owes money to everybody in the neighborhood. But as bad as Arbor's home life may be, his friend Swifty's life is worse. At Swifty's, the family's furniture has been repossessed. There's no place to sit but on the floor. He spends most of his nights at Arbor's, where there are chairs.

During the day, Swifty and Arbor endure classes they have no use for. They wander around town. They get into fights. The town they live in seems bereft of life. The only sound one hears at night is the humming of nearby power lines. You might call it 'working class,' but no one is working. This is the world of The Selfish Giant, a stirring new film from UK writer/director Clio Barnard.

Arbor and Swifty are the type of inseparable mates that are only seen in childhood. They need each other, if only because no one else wants them. Arbor, a terror who loses his temper often, mouths off to teachers and other adults, feeling there is nothing they can do to him that is any worse than the poverty he lives in. He seems unlikable at first, the sort of kid you don't know what to do with, but over time he reveals a strangely adult side. When his older brother and stressed mother seem too incapacitated to look after themselves, Ardor practically assumes the "man of the house" role.

Arbor's loyalty to Swifty is also admirable. One afternoon, when he sees Swifty being picked on, Arbor boldly leaves his classroom and assaults the bully. The resulting fight sees Arbor and Swifty being kicked out of school. This is ok with them, for they've discovered a way to make money by collecting roadside junk for a local scrap dealer, a foul-mouthed lug named Kitten (Sean Gilder). Kitten seems like a character out of Dickens, putting kids to work for him in what is obviously an illegal operation. Kitten isn't impressed with the boys, until he learns that Swifty has a way with horses. Kitten owns a trotting horse that he hopes to enter in local contests, and he needs Swifty to work with him. As Swifty becomes Kitten's favorite, Arbor finds himself being pushed aside.

Connor Chapman is brilliant as Arbor, and ultimately won me over. He's resourceful when he's out on the road scrapping, and isn't afraid of trying for things beyond his reach, including cable from the always menacing power lines. He's as world-weary as a 13-year-old can be; he's never been a child. He seems to have born angry, and ready to fight. Shaun Thomas is also very fine as Swifty, a sensitive boy who is big enough to throw a punch, but needs a little coaxing from Arbor, and would probably rather be in a barn with the horses, anyway.

The Selfish Giant isn't an easy movie. The squalor is unsettling. The northern England accents are so thick that the movie has subtitles. The characters aren't always likable. The climax is upsetting, the ending a little vague. Still, it's a strong film, and I felt affection for the two boys. There's a scene where they receive their first pay from the scrap dealer. Arbor asks Swifty if he can now buy back some of the furniture his family had to give up. When Swifty nods yes, Arbor's smile lights up the screen. He couldn't have been any happier if he'd won the lottery. The film says otherwise, but Arbor's smile almost makes you think that something as simple as friendship can conquer any hardship.

On a side note, there's been a persistent meme that the movie is based on an Oscar Wilde story of the same name. Trust me, it’s not “a modern reworking” of anything, as several reviewers have tried to say. The Wilde story is about a literal giant who finds a child in his garden who turns out to be Christ. While Bernard acknowledges that her movie is a fable, the influence of Wilde’s story is very loose. Bernard, who is interested in stories from the area where the movie was made, described her Selfish Giant as a “re-telling of a fairy tale based on fact.” Maybe Wilde’s influence is in there, but there’s also a bit of The Bicycle Thieves and The 400 Blows. (For those curious about Wilde’s story, there was an animated version that aired on Canadian television in 1972.)

Bernard’s movie was nominated for a BAFTA Award this year for Best British Film. It lost to Gravity. I would've voted for The Selfish Giant.

Now on DVD from MPI Home Video, the extra features include interviews with the director and cast, plus deleted scenes.

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BY FRED BLOSSER

A particular kind of film was popular in, and almost unique to, the 1970s. I would call them “A-minus” movies. Not quite “A” because they didn’t feature trendy mega-stars like Newman, Redford, McQueen, Eastwood, Streisand, or Beatty, but not quite “B” either. Typically, they were international packages that starred a mix of American actors who, although past the peak of their popularity, still retained some marquee appeal for older moviegoers, and European actors who would draw overseas audiences. They usually were built around B-movie crime, spy, and thriller stories, but bigger-budgeted and more sophisticated than the standard “B,” and filmed on European locations, not a studio backlot in Culver City.

Henri Verneuil’s “Le Casse” (1971),” released in the States by Columbia Pictures in 1972 as “The Burglars,” exemplifies the genre -- French director; on-location filming in Greece; score by Ennio Morricone; the names of Jean-Paul Belmondo, Omar Sharif, and Dyan Cannon above the title; an able supporting cast of Robert Hossein (“Les Uns et Les Autres”), Renato Salvatori (“Luna”), and Nicole Calfan (“Borsalino”); and a script by Verneuil and Vahé Katcha based on David Goodis’ 1953 paperback crime noir, “The Burglar.”

Verneuil had recently aced a big hit in Europe and a modest hit in the U.S. with “Le Clan des Siciliens” (1969), also known as “The Sicilian Clan.” “The Sicilian Clan” is relatively easy to find in a sharp print on home video and TV (there was a 2007 Region 2 DVD, a 2014 Region 2 Blu-ray, and periodic airings on Fox Movie Channel). Unfortunately for A-minus aficionados, “The Burglars” is more elusive in a really good, English-language video print.

Professional thief Azad (Belmondo) and his partners (Hossein, Salvatori, and Calfan) have cased a villa in Athens whose jet-setting owners are away on vacation. A safe in the house holds a million dollars in emeralds. The thieves break into the house, crack the safe, and make off with the jewels, but two glitches arise. First, a police detective, Zacharias (Sharif), spots the burglars’ car in front of the villa. Azad chats with the detective and spins a cover story of being a salesman with engine trouble. Zacharias leaves, but it seems like too easy an out for the thieves.

Next, the plan to flee Greece immediately on a merchant ship falls through. The gang arrives at the dock and finds the ship undergoing repairs: “Storm damage. It will be ready to sail in five days.” They stash the money, split up, and agree to wait out the delay. Zacharias reappears, playing cat-and-mouse with the burglars. He’s found the opportunity to cash out big. Offered a meager reward by the billionaire owner of the jewels and “10 percent of the value” by the insurance company, he decides he’ll do better by finding and keeping the emeralds himself. In the meantime, Azad meets and romances Lena, a vacationing centerfold model (Cannon), whose role in the story turns out to be more relevant than it first seems.

Goodis’ novel was filmed once before as “The Burglar” (1957), a modestly budgeted, black-and-white programmer with Dan Duryea, Jayne Mansfield, and Martha Vickers, directed by Paul Wendkos. The script by Goodis himself, the photography in gritty Philadelphia and Atlantic City, Duryea’s hangdog performance, and Mansfield’s surprisingly vulnerable acting faithfully captured the bleak spirit of the novel.

Retooling the story as a shinier A-minus, Verneuil made significant changes. Duryea’s character, Nat Harbin, runs ragged trying to keep his fractious gang together and protect his ward Gladden, the young female member of the team, whose father had been Harbin’s own mentor. Verneuil tailors the corresponding character Azad to Belmondo’s exuberant, athletic personality and changes the dynamic between Azad and Helene, Calfan’s character. Where Gladden is brooding and troubled, Helene seems to be well-adjusted if somewhat flighty. When Nat realizes that he loves Gladden, it comes too late to save their doomed relationship. Azad and Helene find a happier resolution. The opportunistic cop in the novel and earlier movie, Charley, has little interaction with Harbin, but Belmondo and Sharif share ample screen time and charm as the two equally wily antagonists. Their final showdown in a grain-storage warehouse brings to mind, of all classic movie references, the climactic scene in Carl Dreyer’s “Vampyr” (1932).

Updating the technical details of the story, Verneuil turns the safecracking into a lengthy scene in which Azad uses a high-tech, punch-card gizmo to visually scan the scan the safe’s inner workings and manufacture a key that will open it. Roger Greenspun’s June 15, 1972, review in “The New York Times” took a dim view of Verneuil’s meticulous, step-by-step depiction: “Such a machine might excite the envy of James Bond's armorer, or the delight of Rube Goldberg. But what it does for Henri Verneuil is to fill up a great deal of film time with a device rather than with an action.” In fact, Verneuil was simply paying homage to similar, documentarian scenes in John Huston’s “The Asphalt Jungle” (1949) and Jules Dassin’s “Rififi” (1955) -- incidentally, one of Robert Hossein’s early films -- and at the same time avoiding repetition by employing the kind of Space Age gadget that fascinated 007 fans in the early ‘70s.

Greenspun also objected to “an endless (and pointless) car chase,” but the chase, choreographed by Rémy Julienne, isn’t exactly pointless: it adds an overlay of menace to the second, verbally cordial meeting of Azad and Zacharias. Besides, in the era of “Bullitt” (1968) and “The French Connection” (1971), a car chase in a crime film was good box office, as Verneuil certainly knew. The chase isn’t shot and edited as electrically as the ones staged by Bill Hickman for Peter Yates and William Friedkin, but it’s easily as entertaining as Julienne’s stunts for the Bond films.

Ennio Morricone’s eclectic score includes a jazzy, Europop-inflected title tune; dreamy easy-listening background music in the hotel cafe where Azad and Lena meet cute; sultry music in a sex club where Morricone seems to be channeling Mancini and Bachrach; and airy, Manos Hatzidakis-style string music in a Greek restaurant where Azad and Zacharias meet. It’s an inventive score, but not as well known as some of Morricone’s others, perhaps because it borrows so freely (with an affectionate wink and a nod) from his contemporaries.

There are a couple of versions of “The Burglars” as the French-language “Le Casse” on YouTube, only one of them letterboxed, and neither with English subtitles. Web sources indicate that Sony released the German-language version of the film, “Der Coup,” for the German DVD market in 2011; some say it includes English subtitles, others say it doesn’t. There was a letterboxed Alfa Digital edition of “The Burglars” in 2007 for the collectors’ market, and a letterboxed print occasionally runs on Turner Classic Movies. Those are probably the best bets for an English-track, properly widescreen (2:35-1) print, although in both cases the colors are muddy, dulling the bright cinematography by Claude Renoir that I remember seeing on the big screen in 1972.

Belmondo, Sharif, and Cannon probably have little name recognition among younger viewers today, and a scene in which Azad slaps Lena around, activating a clapper that cuts the lights in Lena’s apartment and then turns them back on with each slap, would never be included in a modern film. On the other hand, the mixture of crime, car chase, and romance might pique the interest of today’s “Fast & Furious” fans. In fact, with some rewriting (and further separation from Goodis’ noir universe), it could easily be remade as a future installment in the franchise, with Belmondo’s Azad repositioned as Vin Diesel’s Dom Toretto, and Sharif’s Zacharias rewritten and softened as Dwayne Johnson’s Agent Luke Hobbs.

It’s heartening that Sony Pictures Home Entertainment has begun to move older Columbia genre releases from its vaults to DVD and cable TV, often in first-rate condition. For example, a pristine print of “Thunder on the Border” (1966) ran recently on GetTV, Sony’s cable outlet for the Columbia vault. As another example, “Hurricane Island” (1951) has aired on Turner Classic Movies in perfectly transferred or restored Supercinecolor. It would be nice to see Sony offer a comparably refurbished print of “The Burglars” on American Blu-ray. If nothing else, the movie’s 45th Anniversary is only a year and a half away.

Warner Home Video, in association with Paramount Pictures, is commemorating the 50th anniversary of Jerry Lewis' "The Nutty Professor" with the release of a deluxe Blu-ray gift set. The film is understandably Lewis' personal favorite- and with good reason. His clever comedic take on the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde legend remains a remarkably inventive and funny film, with Lewis not only in the director's chair, but also giving a tour-de-force performance as the nerdy academic who manages to transform himself into a different kind of "monster"- a suave lady's man with a huge ego and no regard for the people in his life. In a personal letter included in the set, Lewis states: "This is a very special film with a lot of heart and soul. I thoroughly enjoyed the writing, directing, acting, editing, scoring and extensive promotion of the film. It is what I always dreamed of doing when I was growing up, watching Charlie Chaplin on the big screen. I am so happy to offer the unique elements of this collection for the first time, and I'm thankful to Warner Bros. and Paramount Pictures for the opportunity to collaborate on this great release of 'The Nutty Professor', my very special child."

Warner Home Video has packed the set with many impressive bonus extras, some of which have been released previously and some of which are new to this set. They include:

• "Jerry Lewis: No Apologies"- a new documentary about his life and career.
• A specially written letter commemorating the anniversary.
• Phoney Phone Calls 1959-1972- an audio CD of prank calls made by Lewis.
• 48 page book of original storyboards
• 44 page cutting script with notes by Lewis
• Behind the scenes footage
• Deleted scenes
• Promo footage of Lewis and co-star Stella Stevens
• Bloopers
• Screen tests
• Outtakes
• Original mono tracks
• Trailers
• two bonus feature films: "Cinderfella" and "The Errand Boy", both with bonus extras including audio commentary tracks by Lewis and entertainer Steve Lawrence.

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We all know the cautionary tale: "Be careful what you wish for- you just might get it!" That certainly applies to those who seek fame and fortune in show business. Child stars are particularly vulnerable to the down side of the industry. One day they are lauded as major stars, the next they can be seen as washed-up has-beens. In many cases, they die young through tragic circumstances, many of which are self-imposed. The web site Ranker takes on a sobering journey through the lives of 30 child stars who died long before their time. Click here to view.  

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

NETWORK has released its brand new trailer for the upcoming documentary Filmed In Supermarionation, featuring digitally remastered clips from the iconic 1960s shows. The film will be out in October 2014.

Directed and produced by Stephen La Riviere (The Story Of Upstairs Downstairs, We Were ‘The Champions’), Filmed In Supermarionation is the definitive documentary on the work of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson and the iconic puppetry and animation technique they developed through the 1960s including Stingray, Captain Scarlet, and most famously, Thunderbirds.

The world premiere of Filmed In Supermarionation will take place on 30 September 2014 at the BFI Southbank.

Trailer link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLM-EZzPJOM

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By Lee Pfeiffer 

Netflix seems to be King of the Hill lately. The company has redefined how the public watches television and has pioneered the "on demand" format into an international habit. It has produced Emmy-winning hit series and has a fanatically loyal customer base. However, Netflix is also embroiled in a bitter battle with cable companies that provide the vital streaming services needed to access its programming. The cable companies are complaining that Netflix eats up so much bandwith, they should share in the cost of providing the technology. Netflix argues that it bares no such responsibility. Consequently, some cable companies have been stifling Netflix' ability to provide adequate speed for its service, leaving some customers frustrated when their favorite Netflix shows encounter slow download speeds. Netflix has responded by posting snarky comments on screens blaming the cable companies. All of this in an indication that cable companies feel threatened by the Netflix surge. They fear that cable customer's habits are radically being driven toward "on demand" entertainment and could threaten the basic cable business plan of selling programs in expensive "bundles" to customers who have to purchase many channels they don't want in order to access the few they do want. For a Washington Post story about this war of titans, click here.  

Wayne in the 1974 detective thriller "McQ".

In one of the craziest legal brawls over trademark protection we've ever heard of, Duke University is attempting to prevent the estate of John Wayne from marketing a new bourbon under the title "Duke". As any movie lover knows, that was Wayne's nickname since childhood and stemmed from a dog who used to follow him around. Locals referred to them as "Big Duke" and "Little Duke". The name Duke has been synonymous with Wayne throughout the decades. The university argues that it is merely ensuring that they are protecting their own use of the name as a famed institution of learning. The Wayne estate says that is pure bunk and that no one could logically confuse a John Wayne bourbon with anything having to do with Duke University. We somehow doubt those university officials would have taken on this case if the Duke himself were still around to oppose them. Click here for more.  

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

Over the years, Shout! Factory has become a mainstay of Comic-Con International, and its pedigree of unique home entertainment products, panel events and convention exclusives elicits a deafening chorus of oohs and ahs from Comic-Con attendees. As a leading multi-platform entertainment company, Shout! Factory continues to expand its reach to a multitude of pop culture fans spanning Shout! Factory, Shout! Kids and Scream Factory™. This year, Shout! Factory returns to Comic-Con International 2014 with a dynamic lineup, featuring a revealing panel event, a showcase of new home entertainment products, Comic-Con exclusive items and engaging booth activities. Fans and convention attendees are invited to join in on the excitement at the Shout! Factory booth (#4248) on the main convention floor.

If your idea of fun is binge-watching pop culture entertainment and geeking-out over enduring cult TV hits, retro-horror/sci-fi classics, outlandish comedies and fantastical CG-animated movie adventures, you will not want to miss this year’s panel event: An Inside Look at Shout! Factory, Shout! Kids and Scream Factory on Friday, July 25, 2014 at 7pm (Room 23ABC). Join Brian Ward (DVD Producer), Melissa Boag (VP, Kids & Family) and Jeff Nelson (Sr. Marketing Director) as they make special announcements and unveil exclusive sneak peeks of upcoming Blu-ray/DVD collector’s editions and new movies coming to theaters this fall. This is a fan-driven insider’s event filled with lively discussion and more than a few surprises. This panel discussion and Q&A will be moderated by entertainment writer & critic Kyle Anderson (NERDIST.com).

Shout! Factory makes its mark at Comic-Con this year with the MY LITTLE PONY: EQUESTRIA GIRLS – RAINBOW ROCKS photo booth, numerous Comic-Con exclusives, exciting booth activities and special advance screenings of two highly anticipated CG-animated movies – Slugterra: Return of the Elementals from Nerd Corps Entertainment and THUNDER AND THE HOUSE OF MAGIC from renowned 3D filmmakers Ben Stassen and Jeremie Degruson before they hit movie theaters across the country.

Shout! Factory Booth (#4248) and the studio’s Shout! Factory Store will once again be a must-visit destination on the convention center floor. Poised to ignite fans and Comic-Con attendees of all ages, the Shout! Factory booth will showcase the latest offerings from fan-driven product lines, fan interactive activities, premium giveaways and much more! The Shout! Factory Store, located in Shout’s booth, is back at Comic-Con this year with a pedigree of exclusives and upcoming home entertainment offerings.

For continuing updates on Shout! Factory’s Comic-Con activities and news, please follow us on Twitter @ShoutFactory, hashtag #SDCC14 and the studio’s official Facebook page facebook.com/shoutfactoryofficial.

(Continue reading for full Shout! Factory schedule of events)  

# # #

Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Shout! Factory:

A visionary creator unlike any other, with a passion for unveiling truths about nature and existence by blurring the line between reality and fiction, Werner Herzog is undoubtedly one of cinema’s most controversial and enigmatic figures. Audiences the world over have marveled at his uniquely moving, often disturbing, but always awe-inspiring stories, and his ever-growing body of work has inspired an untold number of filmmakers. He is, and continues to be, the most daring filmmaker of our time.

In celebration of this cinematic vanguard, Shout! Factory will release Herzog: The Collection on July 29^th, 2014.  Limited to 5,000 copies, the 13-disc box set features 16 acclaimed films and documentaries, 15 of which are making their Blu-ray debuts. Herzog: The Collection also features a 40 page booklet that includes photos, an essay by award-winning author Stephen J. Smith, and in-depth film synopses by Herzog scholars Brad Prager and Chris Wahl. Bonus features include English and German audio commentaries, the documentaries Herzog in Africa and Portrait: Werner Herzog, interviews and original theatrical trailers. 

The first 100 fans to order their copies from ShoutFactory.com will receive a copy autographed by Werner Herzog himself. As an addition bonus, box sets ordered directly through ShoutFactory.com will be shipped three weeks before street date. Collectors can place their orders now by visiting https://www.shoutfactory.com/product/herzog-collection-limited-edition .

Herzog: The Collection includes:

Even Dwarfs Started Small

Land of Silence and Darkness

Fata Morgana

Aguirre, the Wrath of God

The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser

Heart of Glass

Stroszek

Woyzeck

Nosferatu the Vampyre

Fitzcarraldo

Ballad of the Little Soldier

Where the Green Ants Dream

Cobra Verde

Lessons of Darkness

Little Dieter Needs to Fly

My Best Fiend

Special Features:

• English Audio Commentaries: Even Dwarfs Started Small, Fata Morgana, Aguirre, the Wrath of God, The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, Heart of Glass, Strozek and Cobra Verde.
• German Audio commentaries: Nosferatu the Vampyre, Fitzcarraldo, Where the Green Ants Dream.
• In Conversation - Werner Herzog and Laurens Straub (in German with English Subtitles)
• The Making of Nosferatu The Vampyre
• Portrait: Werner Herzog documentary
• Herzog In Africa documentary
• Theatrical Trailers

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We've seen some pretty weird record albums tied in with celebrities. If you thought William Shatner's "Transformed Man" is the gold standard of bizarro ventures by actors into the realm of 331/3 records, Cinema Retro contributor Doug Gerbino spotted this gem that seems to beg for further investigation into its origins. Whatever possessed James Mason, one of Hollywood's most notorious cads both on screen and off, to delve into the world of Alvin and the Chipmunks, is a mystery destined to rank with debates about the origins of the pyramids. We also love the fact that Mason is seen on this children's album sleeve holding his omnipresent cigarette. This must have been a compromise on the part of Capitol Records in terms of Mason's presumed insistence that he be photographed swilling down a Martini! After all, the album does possess the highly-cherished Bozo Seal of Approval. We personally can't wait to locate a copy of this record so we can indulge in that snappy, toe-tapper "Backwards From 100" with James "Snoop Daddy" Mason on the lead.  

By Lee Pfeiffer

This summer, in between watching Godzilla and the Transformers wreaking havoc on the earth, you might pause and remind yourself that every now and then a worthwhile movie is released that deals with real people and real-life situations. Granted, it's hard to find such fare in theaters- at least until Oscar season- but there is an abundance of fine, largely undiscovered films available on-demand and on home video. Sony Pictures Choice Collection  has re-released one such title as a burn-to-order DVD. "Owning Mahowny" is a 2003 Canadian film that won plenty of praise and awards "North O' the Border" when it was nominated for numerous Genies (the Canadian equivalent of the Oscars.) Based on a true story that was evidently a bit of a sensation in the early 1980s, the story centers of Dan Mawhowny (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a relatively nondescript mid manager at a Toronto bank. Mahowny is respected for his dedication to the bank, his reliability and his talent for putting together important bank loans in a charming, low-key manner that gains the trust of high profile clients. For his efforts Mahowny is promoted and given oversight of the bank's largest loans. He does a good job, too, impressing the top brass by continuing to convince well-heeled people in the business community to take out large loans through his bank branch. Mahowny's personal life is equally nondescript. He lives modestly, drives an old clunker of a car and has a devoted girlfriend, Belinda (Minnie Driver), who he is about to move in with. All seems well- except Mahowny is harboring a troubling secret. He is addicted to illegal sports betting and has run up sizable debts with the local bookie, a sleazy character named Frank Perlin (Maury Chaykin). In desperation, Mahowny falls into the inevitable trap of all gambling addicts: in order to pay off the debt, he borrows even more and takes riskier bets hoping to strike it big. Meanwhile, he has to maintain a normal life at work and with Belinda. Soon, however, he crosses an ethical line when, by virtue of his new powers at the bank, he finds he can manipulate customer loan accounts and take large sums for himself. Like all gambling addicts, he justifies his actions by convincing himself that he is only "borrowing" the funds and will repay them before anyone notices. However, Mahowny hits a major losing streak that causes him such emotional distress that even Belinda begins to suspect the real truth. He becomes evasive and inattentive, consumed by the daily challenge of covering up his crimes even as he diverts more and more money into his own accounts. In desperation, he makes trips to Atlantic City, where his sizable losings gain him the personal attention of the casino manager, a manipulative, greedy man named Victor Foss (John Hurt). Foss recognizes a sucker when he sees one and lavishes high roller perks on Mahowny to ensure he continues to to lose his money at Foss's casino. Mahowny does stray one time: on a trip to Las Vegas, where he ends up with the potential to walk away with $9 million in winnings. However, like everything in Mahowny's life, he seizes defeat from the jaws of victory. 

"Owning Mahowny" came and went at the American boxoffice with a barely noticeable blip. However, it is a highly engrossing film and is brilliantly enacted by Hoffman and the supporting cast. Had the film received more exposure in America, he would certainly have nailed down an Oscar nomination. Director Richard Kwietnioski builds almost unbearable suspense as we watch Mahowny having to deftly avoid being discovered by bank auditors, his own bosses and law enforcement, as his "borrowings" run into millions. The film is also impressive for the fact that the story remains set in the early 1980s and the production team does a fine job of recreating this long-gone, pre-internet era. The supporting cast impresses throughout with Driver doing fine work as the long-suffering girlfriend who won't give up on Mahowny. Hurt is a villain in the classic movie style, all charm and graciousness on the exterior, but with a Machiavellian nature underneath. Maury Chaykin, looking as scruffy and repugnant as porn star Ron Jeremy, is particularly good in this film, as the man who holds the key to Mahowny's fate.

This is first-rate movie making. You probably missed the film in theaters, but don't fail to view it on the Sony DVD. The only gripe is that the film calls out for bonus extras, especially when it comes to delving into the real James Mahowny, who became quite prominent in gambling circles after his case made the press. However, the DVD is sans any bonus extras at all.  

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Twilight Time has released the Fox WWI epic The Blue Max as a limited edition (3,000 units) Blu-ray. The studio had excelled in producing excellent war movies during the 1960s and early 1970s  including The Longest Day, The Sand Pebbles, Tora! Tora! Tora! and Patton. The Blue Max has not remained as revered as those films but in many ways it is no less impressive. By 1966, the year the film was released, WWI had been largely ignored by Hollywood in favor WWII films. Not only was that conflict far more recent, unlike the complex issues that made "The War to End All Wars" a reality, the forces of good and evil were much easier to define in WWII. Prior to The Blue Max, the most ambitious relatively recent WWI film had been Kubrick's Paths of Glory, released almost a decade before. The Blue Max was based on the bestselling novel by Jack Hunter, who felt there were still shards of chivalry during the WWI era that would ultimately be replaced  by the sheer barbarism of the second world war. The protagonist of the story is Lt. Bruno Stachel, a lowly infantryman who decides to rise above the horrors of trench warfare in favor of the German air corps. He arrives at his barracks and immediately isolates his fellow squadron mates with his arrogant and conceited nature. Stachel has a chip on his shoulder: unlike most of the other pilots, he is not a dilettante and comes from a very modest social background. The squadron's hero is Willi von Klugerman (Jeremy Kemp), who is acknowledged as their flying ace. Willi is also the recipient of the coveted Blue Max, Germany's highest decoration for courage in combat. In order to earn the medal, a pilot must have twenty verifiable "kills" of enemy aircraft. Although Stachel and Willi form a friendship, it has shaky foundations. Willi knows that Stachel's obsession is to outperform him and also be awarded the Blue Max. The rivalry between the two men extends to their personal lives: they are both bedding Countess Kaeti von Klugerman (Ursula Andress), the vivacious wife of Willi's uncle, the influential General General Count von Klugerman (superbly played by James Mason). Willi enjoys making humorous references to his lover as "my aunt". With Stachel's appearance, however, things become complicated, as Kaeti, who enjoys an open marriage with her husband, is free to indulge in her fantasies of bedding air aces and turning them into rivals. Stachel's valor in the skies earns him the respect, if not affection, of his comrades and General von Klugerman engages in a campaign of deception in order to build up morale by making Stachel a "working class hero" for propaganda purposes. In doing so, both men cross ethical lines by awarding Stachel "kills" he did not earn, much to the disgust of Stachel's commanding officer (Karl Michael Vogler), a man who represents old world military honor and integrity.

While the bedroom aspects of The Blue Max are compelling, it is the aerial sequences that dominate the film. They are brilliantly photographed by Douglas Slocombe and are set to Jerry Goldsmith's impressive and atmospheric musical score. The film, shot in Ireland (doubling for France) features several incredible dogfights and stunt flying sequences that are never less than thrilling. With America's late entry into the war, German fortunes diminish and the ragtag squadron's attack on advancing Allied infantry forces is epic in scope. Director John Guillerman, long underrated by the way, deftly weaves the action on the battlefield with the action in the boudoir and is helped significantly by the intelligent screenplay which has a highly creative and satisfying climax that improves upon the ending of the book and calls to mind the old adage from The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance: "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."

If there is a flaw in the film it is that there is no one other than Karl Michael Vogler's supporting character to cheer for. Stachler is a shameless opportunist without respect for anyone around him. George Peppard fulfills the basic requirements of the role: he's handsome and cocky, but the character is underwritten. If you are going to have a heel as the central protagonist, he must be embellished with some likable qualities aside from hunky good looks. Consider Paul Newman in Hud and The Hustler: two equally selfish characters, but both of whom had enough redeeming values to make you at least occasionally like them. Similarly, the sexual predator played by Andress is also a despicable person on a moral basis, as she enjoys playing her lovers against each other and reducing her husband to the role of cuckolded spouse. As for the General, he, too, is an opportunist who willingly trashes military protocol to create a national hero based on exaggerations and lies. As for Kemp's character, Willi, he is a genuine hero, but also an elitist snob with a superiority complex who will go to any length to retain his status of golden boy of his squadron. With this pack of knaves and rogues dominating the screen, it's hard to feel empathy for any of them.

Guillerman provides some haunting clues regarding the consequences of Germany's fortunes, as it becomes obvious to the main characters that the war is lost. In a sequence set in Berlin, the military brass and their wives continue to live and dine in opulence, oblivious to the fact that the citizenry is forming soup kitchens and engaging in bread riots. The General's babble about retaining the integrity of the military in order to prevent revolution is filled with hypocrisy because he is deceiving the German people through his phony propaganda campaigns. Similar tactics, of course, would be key to the rise of National Socialism in the 1930s. 

Unlike the other Fox war movies mentioned previously, the film's cachet among retro movie lovers seems to have diminished over the years. It deserves to be re-evaluated and enjoyed by anyone who respects the kind of old fashioned, roadshow epics they just don't make any more.  The Blue Max is superb on many levels and had a great impression on future directors George Lucas and Peter Jackson (who salvaged and restored Peppard's plane from the film!).

The Twilight Time release is one of the most impressive we've seen from this company, with a flawless transfer that does justice to this rich-looking film. The set includes the usual, informative liner notes by Julie Kirgo, an isolated audio track of Goldsmith's score and a second track with alternative music and commentary by Kirgo and fellow film historians Nick Redman and Jon Burligame. A theatrical trailer is also included.

Click here to order from Screen Archives.  

Click here to order limited edition 2 disc CD original soundtrack 

Burt Lancaster and Susan Clark in the excellent 1971 film adaptation of Valdez is Coming.

Commencing July 10, the Anthology Film Archives in New York City will present screenings of movies based on the novels of Elmore Leonard. These will include rare big screen showings of Hombre, Joe Kidd, Valdez is Coming and Mr. Majestyk.

Click here for info.  

By Matthew Field  

On Sunday 6^th July BondStars held their annual summer barbeque at Pinewood Studios. This year the event was themed around Timothy Dalton’s debut as 007 in  The Living Daylights (1987). Making his first BondStars appearance was Dutch actor Jeroen Krabbé who played KGB baddie General Georgi Koskov. He was joined by fellow cast members Maryam d’Abo, Thomas Wheatley and Caroline Bliss.

The day kicked off with a screening of The Living Daylights in Pinewood’s theatre, which has recently been re-named The John Barry Theatre. Director John Glen and members of cast and crew were on hand to introduce the film.

Following the screening, guests signed autographs and chatted with fans. Cinematographer Alec Mills launched and signed copies of his new autobiography ‘Shooting 007 and other Celluloid Adventures.’

Maryam d'Abo

Also returning to Pinewood for the first time in 27 years was the soft-top Aston Martin as driven by Bond in the early scenes of the movie. Displayed on the lawn in front of the manor house, the Aston became the centre of a fun re-union photograph with John Glen at the wheel. Cinema Retro’s Dave Worrall led visitors on his “traditional” tour of the studios, before the special guests took to the stage for a series of lighthearted interviews, in which they regaled the audience with their memories of making the film.

Another enjoyable and memorable event. BondStars promise to return with another great lineup next year.

(Click here to the Bondstars web site) 

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

Playing in over 100 venues across the nation, the unique theatrical event includes full week runs in NYC at Film Forum and in LA at The Cinefamily, and over 100 special event, single screenings, and weekend screenings.  In addition to Janus Films' theatrical re-release, the restored film is available now on Blu-ray and DVD through Criterion Collection.

For a list of American theaters showing the film, click here 

HOTTER THAN GEORGIA ASPHALT

By Raymond Benson

One critic described it as a “kinky fairy tale,” which is quite apt. It’s also a love story, a crime thriller, a road movie, and one of director Lynch’s signature works. Made at a time when the public and critical acclaim of Lynch’s innovative and striking television series, Twin Peaks (co-created by Mark Frost), was at its peak, Wild at Heart represents some of the director’s most bravura filmmaking. In other words, he was on a roll during this period, only to hit an unfortunate snag when the Twin Peaks movie, Fire Walk With Me, was released in 1992 to public and critical derision. (However, that particular film will be reassessed and discussed further in the coming weeks with the release of the entire Twin Peaks saga on Blu-ray, along with ninety minutes of footage deleted from Fire Walk With Me. This material is the “holy grail” for Peaks fanatics.)

Based on a novel by Barry Gifford, Wild at Heart follows the story of Sailor (Nicolas Cage) and Lulu (Laura Dern)—their passionate and rock ‘n’ roll love for each other, and their pursuit across a surreal America by Lulu’s mother and her various henchmen. The movie is violent, colorful, sexy, loud, tender, and a hell of a lot of fun. This might be the closest thing Lynch ever got to making a comedy, but there are a lot of laughs in Wild at Heart, as well as a number of disturbing and shocking bits that are the director’s trademarks. In many ways, Lynch is an American heir to Luis Buñuel, the master of surrealism in cinema. Lynch loves the dream world, and this obsession is reflected in all of his important works. One fine example is the scene in which Sailor and Lulu stop in the middle of a highway at night because an isolated, recent car accident blocks the way. There, they meet a survivor, played by Peaks alumnus Sherilyn Fenn, whose dazed and confused monologue makes the sequence one of the director’s most haunting.

Both Cage and Dern are terrific. Dern especially sells the movie with her sensuality and wild-child persona. Dern’s real-life mother, Diane Ladd, was nominated for a Supporting Actress Oscar for her role as Lulu’s evil mom, portrayed in the film as something akin to the Wicked Witch of the West. In fact, references to The Wizard of Oz abound, as do nods to Elvis Presley, personified by Sailor’s fascination and mimicry of the singer. Other Lynch regulars show up—Harry Dean Stanton, Jack Nance, Grace Zabriskie, Isabella Rossellini, Crispin Glover, Sheryl Lee—but the scariest guy in the picture is Willem Dafoe as “Bobby Peru,” a truly creepy hit man.

Twilight Time has released a limited Blu-ray edition (3,000 units)  which appears to be a port over from the U.S. MGM/UA (Fox Home Video) edition. The transfer looks good, but it doesn’t appear to have undergone a restoration. All the extras are the same—a thirty minute documentary on the making of the film, deleted scenes, interviews, a vintage making-of film, two short pieces with Lynch, a number of TV spots, and trailer. New for the Blu-ray is an isolated music track, so you can just listen to Angelo Badalamenti’s haunting score, along with the bounty of rock ‘n’ roll numbers like Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game,” if you want.

At any rate, David Lynch’s take on the classic “lovers on the run” theme is well worth the ride. As Dern’s Lulu proudly announces, it’s “hotter than Georgia asphalt.” Just be careful—you might get blisters.

(This title has sold out at the distributor, Screen Archives. Click here for availability on Amazon)  

By Don L. Stradley 

I remember a kid in my old neighborhood who owned a Ken doll. Ken, you may remember, was the sexually ambiguous boyfriend of the infinitely more famous Barbie. If that wasn’t weird enough, this kid kept his Ken doll in a state of near nudity, stripping off his safari gear until poor Ken was down to a pair of bright red swimming trunks. The kid would walk around the neighborhood with his near naked Ken doll tucked under his arm, and occasionally visit my yard, where I and my Neanderthal pals were having fun with our far more manly “action figures,” which included the likes of GI Joe, and Stretch Armstrong.  Ken wasn’t a natural fit – he was too small, his hair too perfect, and he was always smiling. The kid claimed that if you left Ken in the sun for a while, he’d actually get a tan. We eventually let the boy join us because we didn’t figure Ken would last long, not with the way we brutalized our toys. Yet, as we dragged our guys through the mud and hurled them from rooftops, Ken showed surprising durability. Barbie hadn’t totally emasculated him, after all. Then, a fat kid named Bobby Harris showed up with an Evel Knievel doll, perhaps the toughest damned toy in the history of mankind, and all bets were off. Ken joined GI Joe and the others in immediate obsolescence.

I thought of that kid and his Ken doll while watching A Brony Tale, a cute, good-hearted documentary about the surprising male fandom surrounding ‘My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.’ The Pony program is made for young girls, but apparently attracts everyone from military men to bikers. “Don’t underestimate the things that make you happy,” says one of the movie’s more emotionally fragile fellows. He’d returned from military duty a depressed wreck but was rejuvenated by his love of the animated show. His comment is perhaps the most useful of the 97 minute feature, and he’s certainly more to the point than the various grown men who drone about their right to enter a toy store and buy something in the Pony aisle.

One practicing psychologist suggests the phenomenon of “Bronies,” as the male fans are called, is a reaction to the post 9/11 decade, and proposes these burly misfits are just trying to get away from the violence and uncertainties of the past 10 years. Ok, maybe. No one understands better than me that pop culture can help shield a person from what ails him. Yet, the spectacle of 200 Bronies gathering for a group hug strikes me as less about the alleged magical elements of the show and more about lonely people trying something, anything, to find a connection.

The movie loses steam in its middle, as director Brent Hodge focuses on younger Bronies. Neither the junior high school fans nor the older, college age fans add much to the story. When you’ve heard one melancholy loner tell about the redemptive qualities of My Little Pony, you’ve heard them all.

The meat of the film involves Ashleigh Ball, the young Canadian woman who provides the voices of Applejack and Rainbow Dash, two of My Little Pony’s most beloved characters. Ball is slightly bewildered by the show’s swelling fandom, and after attending a Brony convention in Manhattan, she’s still slightly bewildered. She’s involved in something with a power she hadn’t imagined – Ball was a voice over artist who played in a band and took the Pony gig because it offered a paycheck. Now, to her surprise (and discomfort?), Ball may end up as the William Shatner of Brony world.

It’s disappointing that Hodge misses out on the most obvious question: What do little girls think of these much older men who watch the show? How do they feel when they go into a toy store only to learn that the last available book of Rainbow Dash decals has been scooped up by some 38-year-old loser? I found it unfortunate that the Manhattan convention was devoid of the show’s real target audience, and that Ball didn’t get to mingle with some of the very young girls who would’ve loved meeting her. Instead, she’s on a podium fielding questions from a bunch of depressed types who should really be trying to bust out of their arrested puberty.

It’s also odd that no mention is made of the show’s creators, illustrators, or producers, as if the program simply exists in a vacuum. It’s impossible to imagine a documentary about Star Wars fans that didn’t mention George Lucas, but not a single Brony interviewed gives credit to any creative types. Apparently, all that goes on in a Brony’s mind is his own love for the show, his own needs, and his own impossibly sad depths that can only be eased by a girly cartoon.

To Hodge’s credit, he doesn’t dwell on what could be construed as the more prurient aspects of the story. He lets us think what we will of grown men who are strangely attached to images of sweet little horses made to sound like young girls. Is watching the show merely a safe way to stare at little girls, to enter their innocent fantasies? I can’t say for certain. The old ‘Davey and Goliath’ series offered positive messages, too, but I don’t recall a lot of middle-aged guys being into it.

I’d never heard of ‘My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.’ From the clips in the documentary, it appears to be a friendly program about girl ponies learning life lessons. It’s a safe place to be, this world of pretty ponies, probably much nicer than a muddy backyard in the suburbs, where an afternoon with your buddies might be interrupted by a half-naked Ken doll.

*

A BRONY TALE is the first title in the new "Morgan Spurlock Presents” line of documentaries to be released by Virgil Films in conjunction with Morgan Spurlock's Warrior Poets and theatrical distributor Abramorama. It opens in select theaters on July 8 and will debut on Video on Demand July 15. 

MERYL’S MASTERPIECE

By Raymond Benson

In 1982, Meryl Streep had already made a big splash in the motion picture industry, having won a Supporting Actress Oscar for 1979’s Kramer vs. Kramer, and securing a Supporting Actress nomination prior to that for 1978’s The Deer Hunter and a Best Actress nomination for 1981’s The French Lieutenant’s Woman. With Sophie’s Choice, the actress snapped up the Best Actress Oscar pretty much without a contest—everyone knew that if she didn’t win, then a terrible crime had been committed by the Academy. In short, in this reviewer’s opinion, Streep’s performance in Sophie’s Choice is one of the greatest pieces of acting ever presented on the silver screen. Period. Since then, Streep has gone on to prove, over and over, that she is arguably the most talented actress in the history of cinema, but Sophie remains her masterpiece.

It’s a damned good movie, too, and it should have at the very least secured nominations that year for Best Picture and Best Director. It’s faithfully adapted from William Styron’s best-selling novel and it’s beautifully made. And while Streep dominates the film with her bravura characterization of a tortured Polish Holocaust survivor, her two co-stars, Kevin Kline and Peter MacNicol, are also very good (in fact it was Kline’s film debut as Nathan, Sophie’s bi-polar lover). Pakula’s direction is sensitive and intimate, although it’s a big story that encompasses three distinct personalities amidst a backdrop of post-war ennui.

If you’ve never seen it, you’re probably thinking, Oh, a Holocaust movie, what a downer, who wants to see that? Well, there are Holocaust films and then there is Sophie’s Choice (actually only a small portion of the film reveals Holocaust scenes in flashback). Primarily it’s a love story, albeit a tragic one. It will move you and shake you, and you will come away from the experience a different person. Seriously. This is Alan J. Pakula’s best motion picture, All the President’s Men notwithstanding.

The best thing about the new Shout Factory Blu-ray release of the film is the fact that it’s anamorphic widescreen—which the only other U.S. DVD edition wasn’t. The disc is worth buying for that alone; however, the 1080p high-definition presentation looks very good. The soft focus used throughout the picture by DP Nestor Almendros is perhaps a detriment to the overall appearance of the image, but still—it’s much better than what we had before. The audio commentary is by the late director himself.

The only extra is a long, recent roundtable discussion between Streep, Kline, Pakula’s widow, William Styron’s widow, and two of Pakula’s colleagues. The group goes through the film’s casting and production, revealing many interesting gems about the business.

Sophie’s Choice is one of the best films of the 80s. Experience it on Blu-ray today

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The Might Fine clothing company has released a super cool, officially licensed T shirt commemorating the blockbuster 1965 Sean Connery James Bond flick Thunderball. It's now available on Amazon. 

Click here to order  

It's not a common thing to see an article refer to Dame Helen Mirren as a "babe" but Buzzfeed utilizes that word to flatter one of the reigning queens of British cinema in a photo essay that shows the Oscar winner as a young actress. We have to agree, she is quite the "babe" and we know she's been acting in films since the 1960s...but do they have to say she's been around since "the dawn of time?". Click here to view  

Mazursky and Jill Clayburgh on the set of An Unmarried Woman (1978)

Paul Mazursky, one of the most acclaimed and prolific filmmakers to come of age in the 1960s, has died from cardiac arrest. He was 84 years old. Mazursky originally worked as an actor in films, appearing in such movies as "The Blackboard Jungle". However, with the revolutionary freedoms that came into movie-making in the mid-1960s, Mazursky turned to screenwriting and directing. His first screenplay was for the Peter Sellers hippie comedy "I Love You, Alice B. Toklas!". He made his directorial debut with "Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice" in 1969. The film starred Natalie Wood and Robert Culp as a hip, privileged couple who contemplate wife swapping with their best friends, played by Elliott Gould and Dyan Cannon, both of whom rose to stardom because of the film. Like most of Mazursky's films, the movie viewed social significant issues- in this case, the sexual revoluiton- through a satirical lens. He did the same with "Blume in Love" and "An Unmarried Woman", both of which examined the pains of ending romantic relationships. The latter film, which cast Jill Clayburgh as a woman whose husband abandons her for a younger lover, was embraced by the burgeoning women's rights movements at the time because it depicted a middle-aged woman who finds happiness and success through her independence. Mazursky's other films include "Next Stop, Greenwich Village", "Down and Out in Beverly Hills", "Enemies, a Love Story" and "Harry and Tonto", a bittersweet look at one's man's aging process that won a Best Actor Oscar for Art Carney in 1975. Mazursky himself was nominated for five Oscars but never won. He continued to work as a director and actor until recently and appeared occasionally on the hit sitcom "Curb Your Enthusiasm". His contributions to the renaissance of American filmmaking in the 1960s and 1970s can't be overstated. - Lee  Pfeiffer 

For more click here  

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

The year is 1964 and Beatlemania is in full swing. The biggest band on the planet are about to make their big screen debut. The film is A Hard Day’s Night, a seminal piece of filmmaking that shows The Beatles as they’ve never been seen before.

To celebrate its 50^th Anniversary the film will be presented in a new 4k digital restoration approved by director Richard Lester, with three audio options - a monoaural soundtrack in addition to newly created stereo and 5.1 surround mixes supervised by sound producer Giles Martin and engineer Sam Okell at Abbey Road Studios. The film will be in cinemas, on-demand and available to download from 4 July, followed by a special edition Blu-ray and two-disc DVD release on 21 July 2014, courtesy of Second Sight Films.

A Hard Day’s Night will have an Extended Run at BFI Southbank from 4 July 2014, with a special preview and talk with Richard Lester on 3 July 2014. The UK theatrical release will be handled by Metrodome Distribution.

Director Richard Lester used his experience of working on television adverts combined with slapstick comedy, a nod to the French ‘New Wave’ movement and a documentary style, and alongside screenwriter Alun Owen created a unique and innovative film that went on to influence a whole generation of music videos and films.

A Hard Day’s Night follows a ‘typical’ day in the life of the Fab Four as they try to make it to their big show. As the title track roles we see John, Paul, George and Ringo mobbed by a group of fervent fans as they catch a train to London along with their manager Norm (Norman Rossington – The Longest Day), his assistant Shake (John Junkin – Hooray For Laughter) and Paul’s troublesome Grandfather (Wilfred Bramble – Steptoe and Son).

A series of hilarious escapades follow, with Grandfather bribing a butler for his clothes to go to a casino, Ringo leaving the band to go solo and ending up in a police station and John’s disagreements with a disgruntled TV producer (Victor Spinetti – Help). Will the boy’s make it in time for their big concert?

This is all set to a brilliant soundtrack of classic Beatles tracks including I Should Have Known Better, And I Love Her, Tell Me Why, If I Fell and Can't Buy Me Love, and features a stand out supporting cast including comedienne Anna Quayle, cartoonist Bob Godfrey, TV host Robin Ray, dancer Lionel Blair, Harrison's future wife Patti Boyd, and director Lester himself.

Bonus features include:

• ‘In Their Own Voices’ - a new piece combining 1964 interviews with The Beatles with behind-the-scenes footage and photos

• ‘You Can’t Do That’: The Making of A Hard Day’s Night, a documentary by producer Walter Shenson including an outtake performance by The Beatles

• ‘Things They Said Today’, a documentary about the film featuring director Richard Lester, music producer George Martin, screenwriter Alun Owen and cinematographer Gilbert Taylor

• ‘Picturewise’ - a new piece about Richard Lester‘s early work featuring a new audio interview with the director.

• ‘Anatomy of a Style’ - a new piece on Richard Lester‘s methods

• New interview with author Mark Lewisohn

• Audio commentary featuring cast and crew

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(This review pertains to the BFI UK Blu-ray release on Region 2 format)  

By Paul Risker

When François Truffaut ordained Werner Herzog, “The most important filmmaker alive” wisdom would have suggested that there was not one film within his body of work to stand out as his most important. Only a body of work threaded together with consistency; a combination of great filmic works would warrant such a claim.

Following the infliction of National Socialism on the German artistic tradition and consciousness, Nosferatu the Vampyre is Werner Herzog reaching into the past to reconnect with his true cinematic roots. The film that he looked to was not only a masterpiece of German Expressionism, but more broadly of cinema – F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu. If Truffaut ordained Werner Herzog to be “The most important filmmaker alive” then Nosferatu the Vampyre is the arguably the filmmaker’s most important for this single reason.

In 1979, on the Herzogian moors a strange creature was sighted - a genre picture in the shadow of the vampyre. As recently as 2009 another similar breed of creature was spotted - Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. The latter has struggled to escape the shadow of Herzog’s earlier genre masterpiece, which remains masterful example of a director turning his hand to genre. Alongside Bad Lieutenant, Nosferatu establishes him as a filmmaker with multiple creative identities, mining art house, documentary and genre to carve out his cinematic landscape.

Herzog opens his vampyre tale to a series of haunting pictorial and musical beats. It is difficult to imagine the pan of mummies as existing separate of the music - the two fused together in a dance of death. The music echoes like the tragic voices of the living that are in a state of desperation and terror, before their cries are interrupted by the bat riding the evocative musical waves. But the terror is not death; rather it is the living dead – a frightening version of a mongrel creature trapped between life and death.

Klaus Kinski, along with the other cast of actors to walk in the shadow of the undead, highlights the Shakespearean shades of Stoker’s Dracula that is open to interpretation. Herzog’s film possesses a sensuality that, aside from Murnau’s Nosferatu, is perhaps absent in the others. Alongside Schreck’s creature of the night, Kinski creates a monstrous incarnation that is surreal and sensual when compared to the sexual predators of later years. The journey of Dracula on screen is a journey of sensuality versus sexuality and the sensual ode to life versus the emphasis on sexual seduction.

Seven years on from Aguirre, Wrath of God, Nosferatu finds Herzog working within a more rigid narrative structure, and yet his attention appears to still be drawn to the experience. He continues to create a distinct sense of feeling that has become a trademark of his cinema - an aura that surrounds his films that resemble the medieval spires of a cathedral that reach into the sky, and which are hard to miss on the cinematic horizon. The narrative unfolds slowly in moments, affording itself the opportunity to appreciate the landscape, especially in those scenes where Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz) makes his way through the hills and mountains to Count Orlok’s (Klaus Kinski’s) residence.

Shot to the operatic sound of Wagner, the landscape becomes a character that recalls the importance of space in Herzog’s cinema. Yet more significantly, this spatial aesthetic contributes to a meditation of man versus nature, and which depicts man and the vampyre as a mere extension. Perhaps Herzog’s Nosferatu unearths the idea of the cyclic nature of life, death and rebirth, where the grandiose images of the landscape form the backdrop of a journey that sets us the protagonists against our supernatural antagonists. The urban wilderness and the expansive waters that link continents are a backdrop we pale in comparison to, yet we define the narratives that exist in the foreground of the image.

Bruno Ganz matches Kinski’s physical onscreen presence in a performance that begins with a sprightly step before spiralling into deterioration and rebirth. Meanwhile Isabelle Adjani as the pale lady is almost responsible for a collision between the telepathically connected vampire and spectre. As in Possession only two years later, Adjani shows a propensity to walk out to the edge of the cliff and hold herself on the brink between life and death, the emotions of the performance teetering on a knife edge between outpouring and restraint. Three celebrated actors who each possess a transformative quality that imbues the film with a surreal, sensual and evocative identity that comes directly from the beating or silent hearts of its characters, and radiates outward to infect sound and image.

Nosferatu remains only second to Murnau's earlier masterpiece, but it's patient and sensual feel betray its European roots. Compared to the extras that made the Aguirre, Wrath of God disc shine, the BFI have struggled to make this package as in-depth. However, Herzog's commentary (moderated by Norman Hill) restores faith in the reason for audio commentaries in general, as he once again takes you into the human experience of the making of the film. The original 1979 on-set promotional film offers anecdotes and insights that are missing from the audio commentary, with candid footage in which both writer-director Herzog and star Klaus Kinski take centre stage. If Herzog's words take you behind the film, this supplementary additional feature offers some fascinating visuals as well. Inevitably there are the standard features such as original theatrical trailer and stills gallery but the illustrated booklet comes with a thoughtful newly written essay by acclaimed composer Laurie Johnson that offers an interesting perspective on this classic European genre picture. Most ironic, perhaps, is the white design of the limited edition Steelbook, when one considers that Nosferatu  is a tale of darkness that is centred on a creature that lurks in the shadows. 

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Steve Thompson's addictive blog 1966 My Favorite Year has a wealth of pop culture photos and videos pertaining to what was hot during that glorious one year period. There is an abundance of Batman-related posts including Batman "Sparking" Cola by cott, which we confess we don't recall back in the day but was apparently marketed as the champagne of sodas. You'd need quite a few dollars in your utility belt to afford a can or bottle of this today. Click here to visit the blog...it's not only groovy, it's downright fab!  

Regular readers of Cinema Retro know that the Loew's Jersey City Theatre is not only an American landmark but it also hosts classic movie screenings throughout the year. The magnificent structure was saved from the wrecking ball by a dedicated group of volunteers known as Friends of the Loews. They have gone to Herculean efforts over the years to painstakingly restore much of the theatre to its original glory, though there is still much work to be done. Now the  Friends of the Loews claims that the new city administration is attempting to sideline them and give massive tax breaks to a "for profit" group from outside the city to come in and take over the venue. The Friends have started a grass roots campaign to prevent this from happening. Click here for the full story and a petition you can sign to help their efforts. 

By Mark Cerulli

After a meticulous 4K restoration by none other than the Criterion Collection, the Beatles’ first film, A Hard Days Night, was unveiled at LA’s Raleigh Studios. Yes, the image was crisp and clean, not a smudge or scratch in sight. (No surprise there as the film’s director Richard Lester personally approved the restoration.) And yes, the music sounded glorious in a new 5.1 mix. In fact, George Harrison’s iconic opening riff on the title track just about knocked this Cinema Retro scribe off his seat! But what was really special about this whimsical film was watching it through the prism of fifty years. From frame 1, we know how we lost both John Lennon and George Harrison. We are living with climate change, al-Qaeda, overpopulation and deforestation, so this movie is a welcome relief, capturing a simpler time in a quainter London which was then still throwing off the shadows of WW II. Most importantly, the film delivers The Beatles in close-up after close-up – all are young, strong and so full of life. To say they “stole the show” doesn’t apply, they ARE the show. The plot, about the trials and tribulations of getting the white-hot group to a live performance is basically filler between musical set pieces, but it earned writer Alun Owen a 1965 Oscar nomination. George Martin’s thumping score also landed an Oscar nod.

Along for the ride is Paul’s cranky grandfather (Wilfrid Brambell) who keeps the band and their managers (dour Norman Rossington and goofy John Junkin) on their toes. Odd looking and angular, Brambell, a major UK TV star at the time, was a sneering contrast to the Fab Four’s glowing charisma.

The film is as much about movement as it is music. The band is always on the move, - on foot, in trains, cars and a helicopter. Richard Lester’s cameras are on the move as well, with numerous hand-held shots and a beautiful aerial sequence where the band escapes a stuffy rehearsal to mess about in a playing field accompanied by Can’t Buy Me Love. With much of the dialogue improvised on the spot, A Hard Day’s Night has a breezy, cinéma vérité feel that obviously worked for its stars as they seem to be having a blast from start to finish.

When The Beatles finally go “live”, the climactic concert delivers vintage “Beatlemania” in all its screaming glory. The lads blast out Tell Me Why, If I Fell, I Should Have Known Better and She Loves You, intercut with an audience full of hysterical teens and the show’s harried director (Vincent Spinelli) having a meltdown in the control booth. It’s all innocent, upbeat and just simply, fun. Are there plot holes you could drive a double-decker bus through? Sure. But who cares? For a brief shining moment the Beatles are together again and all is well with the world.

On July 4^th, Janus Films will re-release this restored version of A Hard Days Night in more than 50 cities across America.

(Cinema Retro's next issue (#30) presents a 50th anniversary tribute to the film.)  

CRIME, COSTUMES, AND MASKS

By Raymond Benson

Apparently the French had their own Batman-like character in the early days of silent film. Created by Louis Feuillade and Arthur Bernède, Judex (“judge” in Latin) was a crime-fighting avenger that appeared in silent serials in 1916-17. The character was resurrected once in 1934 in a sound feature, and once again in 1963 by celebrated director Georges Franju. The Criterion Collection has seen fit to release Judex, this later version, on Blu-ray and DVD in a dual format package. The results are splendid.

Judex doesn’t bother to disguise his face when he’s in character. He wears a black cape and a Zorro-like hat. You could say he’s kind of like The Shadow. By day, though, he applies old-age makeup and assumes the role of Vallieres, the right-hand man to an evil banker. Judex is in love with the banker’s daughter, Jacqueline, who is played by Franju regular Édith Scrob, the thin doe-eyed actress who was creepily effective in the director’s excellent horror film, Eyes Without a Face (also on Criterion). Judex himself is played by an American stage magician, Channing Pollock, who curiously has little screen presence but performs a lot of impressive sleight-of-hand in the picture.

The crime-fighter and his team (a group of guys all dressed in black) quickly disposes of the evil banker and locks him away, but Jacqueline is kidnapped by the family’s governess, Diana (superbly played by Francine Bergé), who in reality is a masked Catwoman-like criminal. She plans to hold Jacqueline for ransom, that is, until Judex comes to the rescue.

It sounds like an episode from the 1966 Batman television show, but in fact, Judex is stylish and in some spots very surreal. For example, the scene in which the banker is “poisoned” (actually drugged by Judex) is a masked ball. The attendees’ costumes—many of which are birds—are bizarre and unsettling. Franju turns the pulp material into something rather poetic, despite numerous holes and flights of fancy in the plot.

Also notable is that Franju seems to be more interested in his villain than in Judex. Bergé’s Diana is the most engaging character and has the most screen time in the film. In a 2012 video interview extra with the actress, Bergé reveals that she was told to simply play “evil”—and that’s what she does, with a capital “E.” It’s her performance that makes Judex a fascinating piece of celluloid.

The Blu-ray looks great with its new 2K digital restoration. Extras include a 2007 interview with co-writer Jacques Champreux and an excellent 50-minute documentary of Franju’s career. The best extras are two Franju shorts—one is a documentary about a Paris military complex; the second one, a film about filmmaker/magician Georges Méliès (who is played by Méliès’ son), is almost worth the price of the entire package. The enclosed booklet contains an essay by critic Geoffrey O’Brien and an interview with Franju.

Cool stuff!

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Impulse Pictures continues its obsession with sleazy 1970s porn flicks with the release of "The Chambermaids", a 1974 opus that exploits erotic fantasies regarding the otherwise mundane occupation of hotel maids. Yes, there is something about maids and nurses that appeals to below-the-belt interests of men and these scenarios were often the basis of porn flicks going back to the beginning of the genre. Naturally, in order for the fantasies to be enacted, the maids in question have to be young and pretty and not look like members of the old Soviet Olympics team. In "The Chambermaids" two young women, Mary Ellen and Sally, are bored with their low-paying professions of cleaning rooms in a big city hotel. They devise a plot to become considerably more friendly to male guests in the hope they will be financially rewarded for their efforts. It doesn't take long for the plan to meet with success. One of the maids ends up bedding a businessman who is awaiting the arrival of a married colleague. After a hot session with said maid, he asks her to bring a friend back later so he can "entertain" the client in an even more special manner. The other maid, meanwhile, is tidying up the suite of a newlywed couple when she encounters the distraught groom. He explains that his wife is in the bedroom, frustrated, because he can't rise to the occasion. The maid theorizes that he is unnecessarily paranoid about now being married and gives him a crash course in revitalizing his mojo. The grateful hubby then goes back into the boudoir with renewed confidence. Somewhere along the way, the scenario begins to play out like a French bedroom farce with mistaken identities and chance encounters adding some comedic touches. The new bride (conveniently clad in a nightie) ends up wandering into an adjoining hotel room where she observes one of the maids and another woman pleasuring each other. They immediately seduce her and, following this session, she is mistaken for a hooker and ends up bedding the businessman's client. 

"The Chambermaids" doesn't boast any of the big names from the porn industry during this era. Even the ubiquitous John Holmes is nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, it's a middle-of-the-road production, more ambitious than some and boasting a cast that is fairly attractive, if you don't count the guy who plays the business client. (He resembles the love child of porn legend Ron Jeremy and character actor Al Letieri.) The sex scenes are pretty straight forward and aren't marred by the goofy slapstick comedy that permeated a lot of the X rated flicks of the day. It's  undoubtedly also the only time in screen history in which a woman indulged in oral sex to the strains of Burt Bacharach's Oscar-nominated "Casino Royale" song "The Look of Love". 

Impulse Pictures has wisely chosen to market the movie's shortcomings as strengths. Consider the copy from the back of the DVD sleeve:

"The amateur camerawork, microphone shadows, elevator music, terribly recorded sound and "you are there" extreme close-ups, will bring you back to the days when adult film were cheap and fast and VERY sleazy. Re-mastered from a scratchy, barely surviving theatrical print, "The Chambermaids" is a steamy slice of 70's sex cinema that will have you cleaning up your own room after you watch it!"

At last- a case of truth in advertising! How can you help but love this company?  Besides, that cover art is worth the price alone. 

Click here to order from Amazon 

By Don Stradley

While recently watching Sweet Hostage (1975), I couldn’t stop thinking that Martin Sheen should’ve been a much bigger star. I didn’t get out to the movies much as a kid, and could only watch a small black & white TV in my bedroom. Hence, it was Sheen, the king of the TV movie, who gave me my first inkling of what an actor could do.

Aside from his iconic turn as the homicidal Kit in Terrence Malick’s Badlands (1973), Sheen did most of his 1970s work on the small screen. He had a shifty-eyed way about him that screamed “troubled loner.” Granted, he could dial it down long enough to play Bobby Kennedy in The Missiles of October, but generally, he played twitchy, neurotic types.

Sheen seemed to be on television every month in those days. I remember him as the doomed Private Slovick, shaking like a leaf as he stood in front of an execution squad. Then he was as a cocky hot rodder trying to upstage a sadistic sheriff in The California Kid. He was “Pretty Boy” Floyd, the Depression era bank robber. There was the Kennedy turn, and then, of course, the endless reruns of various cop dramas where he often appeared as misfits and derelicts, cackling all the way.

Sweet Hostage originally aired on ABC in Oct. 1975, the peak of the “made for TV movie” era. Sheen’s portrayal of Leonard Hatch, an escapee from a Boston mental ward who kidnaps a lonely teen played by Linda Blair, was quite a big deal at the time, especially among women. I recall overhearing various females – aunts, teachers, ladies at the supermarket – talking about this movie. “Did you see it?” they’d ask each other. “Did you cry at the end?”

In the decades since, the movie appeared to fall into the rabbit hole where a lot of made-for-TV flicks go, but it loomed large in my mind. I recalled it as a dark tale of a man who held a woman hostage, and somehow they fell in love. I’m not familiar with Nathaniel Benchley’s novel, Welcome to Xanadu, which served as the basis for the movie, but I’ve heard the movie is much more of a tearjerker. On a side note, I remember a day in the 1990s when Sweet Hostage was airing on an obscure local station, wedged in between Mexican mummy movies and infomercials. I hadn’t seen it in years and wanted to get reacquainted with it. To my surprise, the movie felt sentimental and overblown. Watching it tonight streamed on the Warner Archive, though, it seemed a nearly perfect relic of the era.

The first image is a tight close-up of Sheen’s gaunt, slightly haunted face. The wind blows his hair back, all the better to see his thousand mile stare. As Hatch, Sheen may have reached the pinnacle of his psycho period. He’s a literature spouting nutcase, the sort of eccentric who wanders the grounds of the asylum reciting poetry and demanding the nurses call him ‘Kublai Khan.’ He escapes one night, steals a truck, robs a store (while wearing a clown mask) and heads for parts unknown.

Blair plays Doris Mae Withers, a 17-year-old who dreams of the day when she can leave her father’s chicken farm. One day her truck breaks down on the highway and Hatch picks her up. When he decides she’s an illiterate who could use some mentoring, he holds her captive in his cabin, trying to impress her with the beauty of poetry. She makes a few feeble attempts at escaping, but gradually succumbs to Hatch’s weird charm. True, he has an irrational temper, but when he’s not yelling at her, he’s rather kind, like a man from another era, someone out of a story book of princes and rogues. He even wears a puffy shirt. Hell, it beats living on the chicken farm, so she gets comfortable and hunkers down for the long hall. Far-fetched? Sure, but I never said the movie was flawless.

Sheen, at times, comes dangerously close to overdoing it as Hatch. He’s a dervish of fake accents, odd mannerisms, cackling laughter, and manic outbursts. But for all of his frenzied behavior, we never learn why he was in the mental hospital. For all we know, he’d been locked away because he loved poetry. (There’s an odd scene where Hatch meets a townie who babbles at him in lines borrowed from Star Trek. He even gives Hatch the Vulcan salute. What do we glean from this? Quoting Mr. Spock is permitted, but quote Lord Byron and you go to the psycho ward?)

Cinematographer Richard C. Glouner shoots the hell out of the Taos, New Mexico locations, but his strategy of filming the main characters from below works against the theme of the movie. Shooting from below makes Sheen and Blair look like large powerful figures, when they’re actually two little people in a big lonely world. Glouner’s work is striking, but it doesn’t fit the story. He does have a flair for making Taos look like big sky country, and he makes Hatch’s cabin look rustic and hard, but his best work is a scene where Sheen and Blair waltz around inside the cabin – he brings his camera above the scene, looking down at the two as they appear to be growing closer. It’s a warm scene, and it’s a reminder of how director Lee Philips carried off the neat trick of making us believe Blair could fall in love with her captor.

Philips, a veteran TV director, keeps the movie motoring along, but he nearly destroys it with music, including a terrible theme song that he dumps into the movie at random sections. The song, which I won’t glorify by mentioning its title or singer, nearly capsizes the movie. Imagine if, while watching Badlands, or, say, Bonnie and Clyde, a scene was suddenly interrupted by Terry Jacks singing ‘Seasons in the Sun.’ That’s how off-putting the music is here. Since most TV shows of the period had an opening theme song where the plot would be described ( i.e. “Here’s the story of a man named Brady…”) television producers may have thought a TV movie needed the same thing, a song to describe the action. Still, it’s ridiculous. This is probably why I had a bad reaction to the movie back in the 1990s.

Philips also had a bad habit of laying drippy music underneath all of the emotional scenes, as if he’s determined to tell us how we should feel. The score, a schlocky mix of TV music clichés by Luchi De Jesus (who had done a lot of Blaxploitation movies), really hasn’t aged well. Some of the scenes were magical on their own, such as when Sheen and Blair embrace after she reads a poem that moves him to tears. Strip the music away and the scenes would be much more powerful, for Sheen and Blair don’t need musical accompaniment. And as much as I like Sheen, it’s really Blair who made this movie sit up and speak. As Doris Mae, Blair gives just about the most honest performance ever given by a teenager.

Blair, like Sheen, had become a bit of a TV icon, emerging from The Exorcist to appear as various teen alcoholics and runaways on somewhat scandalous TV movies. (Her name is above Sheen’s on the credits, which shows you the power of The Exorcist was still in the air). And while Sheen hyperventilates as Hatch, Blair has the sense to underplay their scenes together – she’s the rock in the middle of his windstorm.

And consider this: If female viewers fell in love with Sheen in this movie, they were doing so through Linda Blair’s eyes. Blair must have tapped into something that exists in all women, some strange desire to be trapped, combined with a need to nurture. The creepy cabin in the woods becomes a kind of enchanted cottage, with Doris Mae sweeping up and hanging curtains, her eyes widening as Hatch tells her of exotic, faraway lands. Yet, she also knows that this grown man is still something like a kid himself. For Doris Mae, Hatch is all men in one: the unpredictable but gentle father, the encouraging teacher, the playful brother, the flirtatious boyfriend, and even, in a roundabout way, the son who needs protection. With so many facets of Hatch to deal with, Doris Mae can only grow. To her delight, she likes growing. In what is probably the performance of her lifetime, Blair shows us the inner workings of a sad girl warming up to life.

The ending is a bummer, with bloodthirsty vigilantes closing in on Hatch’s cabin. When he spots a police helicopter hovering over his place, he decides to take the only way out he can think of, sacrificing himself so Doris Mae can live. TV viewers bombarded newspapers with angry letters, asking why the film had to end in a death. The movie was a success, though, and was even given a theatrical release in several European countries. There were even rumors that 34-year-old Sheen and 17-year-old Blair had some sort of off-screen affair (which both denied).

Sheen announced at the time that he was leaving television to focus on big screen features. He started by killing Jodie Foster’s hamster in The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane. He got as far as Apocalypse Now, suffered a heart attack during filming, and spent the next 30 years bouncing between TV and independent pics. He’s never hit the peaks I’d imagined for him. As for Blair, well, Roller Boogie was beckoning. Blair, too, has worked steadily, but she was never better than she was as the girl in Leonard Hatch’s cabin, her eyes widening with love for the strange man who brought out the poetry in her.

(Sweet Hostage is available for viewing on the Warner Archive streaming service.)

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(This review pertains to the limited edition Region 2 UK release from the BFI) 

By Paul Risker 

As well as asking the question “Is cinema more important than life?” Francois Truffaut showed a flair for statement when he declared Werner Herzog to be “The most important filmmaker alive.” 

If the BFI have the final word this summer, it will be remembered as the summer of Herzog, as they align themselves with the German filmmaker and journey headlong into his cinematic world. This rendezvous starts with a descent into the past with two distinct forms of horror - the hallucinatory horror of human obsession in Aguirre, Wrath of God and the genre horror Nosferatu.

Aguirre, Wrath of God represents an important entry in Herzog's career, and by coupling it with his 1971 feature documentary Fata Morgana, this release highlights the spatial thread that runs through his cinema. From the jungle, the desert, Antarctica and the urban geographical spaces resemble continents in Herzog’s cinema. Therein the decision to offset Herzog's early foray into the jungle with an early montage of images of the desert set to songs by Leonard Cohen is a fitting accompaniment to Aguirre’s obsessive jungle march.

It is theoretically possible to appreciate select films via the filmmaker’s commentary on a first viewing, and Aguirre, Wrath of God is one of those films to support such a theory. Herzog’s commentary intertwines well with the film, and whilst the film functions as an independent entity - the grown up child who has come of age and has been sent out into the world; Herzog’s words take you behind the images to tell you the transparent narrative of the human experience behind the film.

Whilst in one sense the films exist separately of their filmmaker, in equal measure an extension of him. In Aguirre, Wrath of God Herzog’s audacity to confront the inhospitable jungle as well as the arduous nature of the filmmaking process finds him mirrored in the tale of obsession and the obsessive nature of Don Lope de Aguirre (Klaus Kinski).

Herzog’s primary focus appears to be trained on the experience or sense of feeling the film offers over the consideration of narrative, by opening himself up to the environment as a source of inspiration. He allows the jungle to reveal its nature and to guide him in creating an experience for him, his characters and us the audience. Aguirre feels authentically gruelling, and lacks the artificial feel of a performance, merging the physical and psychological experience of a trek, and despite the improvisational approach, Herzog manages to create a melodic flow amidst the arduous natural terrain, imbuing it with graceful beauty despite the descent into an obsessive voyage of death.

Aguirre, Wrath of God offers a powerful meditation on a theme of insanity - the susceptibility versus the immunity. Whilst Kinski’s Aguirre floats on the surface in a state of disquieting peace, his counterparts are inevitably dragged beneath the calm surface. Kinski’s delivers a pitch perfect performance, both his idle and glaring stare offset against the awkward physical movements that masterfully merge the physical abruptness with a shade of a devilish soul.

The jungle setting affords Herzog the opportunity to take advantage of the space and setting as a mirror to reflect his characters psychology - the wildness of their natures, and the labyrinth of obsession that the winding river becomes a metaphor for. But the fatalities suffered by the native’s offers a reflection that man is his own undoing, and mother nature is only a backdrop or a reflection capable of showing us both our Jekyll and Hyde.

Aguirre sits as the opening chapter in the tumultuous Kinski-Herzog collaboration; the full story of which was wonderfully told in Herzog’s 1999 documentary My Best Fiend. This relationship imbues Herzog’s career with a shade of folklore. If Woody Allen listed reasons to live, then one of the reasons to be grateful for Aguirre, Wrath of God is Herzog’s infamous threat to shoot Kinski. Whilst disputes on set are not unheard of, Kinski and Herzog pushed into the realm of the absurd. Whilst the two men plotted each other’s murder together they created a series of films that have come to represent one of the great cinematic collaborations in the history of film. But the distortion of these stories has imbued them with a sense of myth; where what happened differs to what we think happened. The stories of threats of physical harm and fleeing native tribes could be read as filmic parables or cautionary tales for other filmmakers. If the story of the making of a film can be just as compelling as the narrative that plays out onscreen, the Kinski-Herzog dance more often than not produced such a compelling second narrative. What better place to start than with Aguirre, Wrath of God where this collaboration was born.

Alongside a fine selection of extras including an old commentary track moderated by Norman Hill and the montage documentary Fata Morgana, included on this release are three early shorts that see Herzog experiment with the subjective and objective perspective of his characters. An entertaining trilogy representing a young filmmaker cutting his teeth, they present him as a filmmaker fascinated by human nature, behaviour and personality from the very dawn of his filmmaking career. 

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By Lee Pfeiffer

The Warner Archive has released director Ken Annakin's madcap comedy "The Biggest Bundle of the Them All" as a burn-to-order DVD. The film's title has multiple meanings. It's a romantic ballad that is crooned over the opening titles by Johnny Mathis and a rock 'n roll version is heard later in the film. It also refers to a kidnap victim as well as the loot a group of thieves hope to gain from an audacious robbery. Finally, there is the sexual twist on the title with a bikini-clad Raquel Welch adorning the advertising posters.

The film is set in Italy and director Annakin makes the most of the lush locations. The film opens with an inept group of amateur crooks gently kidnapping a local crime lord, Cesare Celli (Vittorio De Sica), in the hopes of holding him for an elaborate ransom. Although Celli is refined, cultured and pompous, the leader of the crooks, Harry (Robert Wagner), soon discovers that Celli is past his sell date in terms of his influence in Italian crime circles. In fact, he is penniless and without the slightest influence among the real "dons". In an ironic twist, Celli becomes humiliated by this discovery and tries valiantly to find ways to collect his own ransom and prove that he still has some value to somebody. When that fails, he convinces Harry and his four confederates to enter into a partnership with him to mastermind a grand theft that will make them all rich. It involves an elaborate operation in which they will rob a train and steal a fortune in platinum, which will then be flown out of the country on an old WWII U.S. bomber. In advance of putting the scheme into play, the gang attempts several other minor crimes but they prove to be far too inept to carry even these out successfully. Celli enlists the aid of an influential American, "The Professor" (Edward G. Robinson), an equally sophisticated man who outlines the "foolproof" master robbery scheme. 

The film is delightful on many levels. First, there is the inspired cast with De Sica stealing every scene in a truly inspired and very funny performance. The "gang that couldn't shoot straight" has several genuinely amusing actors including Italian character actor Francesco Mule, Brit Davy Kaye and American Godfrey Cambridge as a fey gangster who seems to have every amusing mannerism of Joe Besser of the Three Stooges. Raquel Welch, then in the early days of her superstardom, holds her own quite well in this "boy's club", playing the gorgeous arm candy of Wagner's Harry and there is an amusing sequence in which she dances in a disco with Edward G. Robinson (!) Director Annakin had the good sense to show plenty of gratuitous footage of Welch jiggling, gyrating and dancing about, often clad in a sexy bikini. Victor Spinetti turns up in a cameo, as does Mickey Knox, the American character actor who made good in Italy be rewriting Italian dialogue for American audiences on classic Westerns for Sergio Leone. 

The film has many very funny vignettes and a whimsical score by Riz Ortolani. Annakin, who was equally adept at directing dramatic action films, never lets the pace flag for a second and the chemistry between his cast members is one of the movie's great pleasures.

The Warner Archive release is from a print that shows some fluctuations in lighting and color but is overall quite acceptable, though unfortunately there are no extras.  

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Cinema Retro Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer with Eli Wallach at The Players in New York City.

By Lee Pfeiffer

Cinema Retro mourns the loss of Eli Wallach, the prolific actor of screen, stage and television, who passed away Tuesday in his New York City home. He was 98 years old. Wallach was one of the last of the Hollywood legends. He rarely enjoyed a leading role but was considered to be one of the most respected character actors of the post-WII era. He was as diversified as a thespian could be and would play heroes, villains and knaves with equal ease. For retro movie lovers, his two most iconic performances were as the Mexican bandit Calvera in John Sturges' classic 1960 film The Magnificent Seven and as Tuco, the charismatic rogue bandit in Sergio Leone's landmark 1966 production of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Although he never won or was even nominated for a competitive Oscar, he did receive a lifetime achievement award from the Academy in 2010.

On a personal basis, this writer knew Wallach because we were both members of The Players, the legendary club for the arts at Gramercy Park in New York. Wallach's portrait adorns the club's Hall of Fame and he was an active participant in the club, appearing in readings and plays throughout the years. The last time I saw him there was in late 2012 when he made a surprise appearance to greet actress Carroll Baker, who was speaking at the club about her long career. Wallach, who played her lecherous older lover in the notorious Baby Doll, showed up to see her, much to the delight of the audience. As always, Wallach was accompanied by his devoted wife, actress Anne Jackson, to whom he was married for 66 years. I first met him in 2005 when I joined the Players. We both attended a black tie dinner in honor of Ben Gazzara. Coincidentally, the first issue of Cinema Retro had just been published and I gave him a copy. He was delighted to see an article in which we editorialized that he should have been nominated for an Oscar for The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and proceeded to tell some amusing stories about the making of the film, including having to temporarily share a bed with Clint Eastwood due to lack of accommodations in Spain. Wallach was always good for a funny anecdotes and seemed to be perpetually in a good mood.  I tried on many occasions to have a formal interview with him and he was agreeable. However, by the time his non-stop work schedule finally abated, his health had deteriorated. The last time I spoke to him at length was after I saw the film Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps in 2010. I was delighted to see he was looking so fit. I called him up for an impromptu conversation and, as usual, he spent about an hour explaining how he didn't have time to talk. During the course of that conversation, he related priceless tales of working on The Misfits with Marilyn Monroe, Clark Gable, Montgomery Clift and John Huston and bemoaned the fact that only he and fellow Players member Robert Vaughn were the only remaining cast members from The Magnificent Seven. I informed him that when I had asked Vaughn how that felt, he said "It stinks- but it beats the alternative!" Wallach let out a typically hearty belly laugh.

Eli Wallach was a Hollywood legend and an actor's actor. However, his real legacy is that he was an even rarer breed in today's film industry: a class act, a devoted family man and a true gentleman.

Rest in peace, Tuco.  

For more on Wallach's life and career, click here. 

By Fred Blosser

In the Old West, small homesteaders run afoul of a big landowner who controls the local law and levies killer taxes on their ranches and farms. The homesteaders finally refuse to pay the taxes, and petition the governor for help. Meanwhile, expecting reprisal from the landowner’s hired guns, they build a makeshift fort for refuge. They also send for help from a mercenary who comes to their aid with his private army of four associates and a Gatling gun.

Just kidding about the Western setting. This is actually the plot of “Gonin No Shokin Kasegi,” also known as “The Fort of Death,” a 1969 Japanese chambara by Eiichi Kudo. Nevertheless, the similarities are there. The homesteaders are peasants, the landowner is their oppressive feudal lord, and the higher official they’ve petitioned is the emperor. It’s easy to squint and superimpose an Old West setting out of an American B movie, with Audie Murphy or George Montgomery riding to the rescue.

I’m not joking about the Gatling gun, though. The film is hazy about the historical period of the action, but I would guess the setting is meant to be the 1870s, when Western goods and weapons have entered the Japanese economy.

Fans of the Lone Wolf and Cub samurai movies will recognize the star of that series, Tomisaburo Wakayama, as Ichibei, the head mercenary. The movie calls him a “bounty hunter,” and “The Fort of Death” is one of three movies (1969-72) about the same character that the reference books call the “Bounty Hunter” series. In this one at least, he seems more like a soldier of fortune who might collect bounties one day and lead a team of quasi-military specialists the next.

Wakayama should be the poster boy for middle-aged, dumpy, homely males: the women in the movie keep making passes at Ichibei, if not downright trying to get in his pants, including a smokin’ hot lady ninja on his team of mercenaries.

In contrast to his dour Lone Wolf and Cub ronin, Wakayama loosens up with Ichibei, who runs a medical practice when he’s not fighting a war for downtrodden peasants. There’s a funny, raunchy scene where a jittery patient comes to Dr. Ichibei complaining about pain “down there”; Ichibei diagnoses the clap and somberly tells the poor bastard that he’ll have to “cut it off.” When the patient reacts in terror, Ichibei says, “Oh, all right” and directs his nurse to bring a pump with a very long hollow needle, and . . . Trust me, you won’t see a scene like that on “Grey’s Anatomy” or “Dr. Oz.”

I first read about “The Fort of Death” years ago -- I think in one of John Willis’ “Screen World” movie annuals. I had the impression that the film was intended to be a Japanese version of a Spaghetti Western, bringing full circle a pattern that began when Akira Kurosawa’s “Yojimbo” (1961) inspired Sergio Leone’s groundbreaking Spaghetti, “A Fistful of Dollars” (1964). I don’t see much of a Spaghetti influence, though, unless Ichibei’s Gatling gun was intended to remind contemporary viewers of Franco Nero’s machine gun in Sergio Corbucci’s “Django” (1966).

Kurosawa’s “The Seven Samurai” (1954) would seem to be more of a prototype, at least in the basic premise of expert warriors coming to the aid of besieged peasants. But “The Fort of Death” is mostly action for action’s sake, without the deeper themes of honor and duty that characterized “The Seven Samurai,” or for that matter Kudo’s own “The Thirteen Assassins” (1963) and “The Great Killing” (1964). Presumably, an American company will someday issue an official stateside edition of “The Fort of Death.” In the meantime, a good, home grown, letterboxed, sub-titled print is available on the collector’s circuit.