"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 specifics of the boxed set will be revealed later today at Comic Con in San Diego, where Adam West, Burt Ward and Julie Newmar will unveil the contents.

This much is known at this point: the set will contain all 120 remastered episodes of the the three seasons the show ran and will contain a Batcave full of extras.

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).

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)  

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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 

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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.

By Lee Pfeiffer

A controversy over the style of drapes for a mansion's library would not seem to be the fodder for a sizzling screen drama but it is the catalyst for the events that unwind in The Cobweb, a 1955 soap opera that involves the talents of some very impressive actors and filmmakers. The film was directed by Vincente Minnelli and produced by John Houseman, based on the bestselling novel by William Gibson. The cast features an impressive array of seasoned veterans as well as up-and-comers. Among them: Richard Widmark, Lauren, Bacall, Charles Boyer, Gloria Grahame, Lillian Gish, Oscar Levant, Susan Strasberg and John Kerr. The action all takes place in a psychiatric institute called "The Castle". It's actually a mansion house and the patients are seemingly there voluntarily. They are an assortment of mixed nuts ranging from elderly eccentrics to young people with severe problems interacting with others. The nominal head of the institute is Dr. Devenal (Charles Boyer), an erudite, once-respected professional who long ago ceded actual power to his second-in-command, Dr. Stewart MacIver (Richard Widmark), who has implemented very progressive and controversial theories about patient treatment that involve giving those afflicted with psychiatric disorders a voice in the policies and events pertaining to the institute. He's routinely criticized for going to far in trying to build patient self-esteem but MacIver is convinced that such programs are the only way to ensure that those in his care can become self-sustaining members of society. The Castle is hardly the kind of loony bin depicted in most Hollywood films of the era. In fact, it looks more like an upscale bed and breakfast. Everyone is nattily dressed, exceedingly polite and indulge in social activities. MacIver is the one who seems closest to a complete breakdown. His marriage to his sultry young wife Karen (Gloria Grahame) is on the skids. She accuses him of being a workaholic who puts his career before the needs of his wife and young son (Tommy Rettig). On a more personal level, she makes it clear that she is sexually frustrated, as MacIver has moved into a separate bedroom, telling Karen that she is a self-obsessed party girl. There is truth in both accusations. The chain smoking MacIver does seem to be married to his job. Predictably, things get more complicated when MacIver has an affair with a co-worker at the institute (Lauren Bacall) and Karen's ill-conceived flirtations with the perpetually horny Dr. Devenal backfire and cause distress for both of them.  The fragile tranquility among the patients also becomes strained when a controversy erupts over MacIver's plan to allow them to design and create new draperies for the library. This inspires the most problematic inmate, a young man named Steve Holte (John Kerr) who is traditionally anti-social but who comes alive by using his creative talents for the project. However, the institute's busy-body secretary, Victoria Inch (Lillian Gish) has already ordered expensive draperies from a company and she objects to using the patients' creations. This sets in motion a series of dramatic circumstances that has major consequences for all the main characters.  

The premise of the screenplay reads like something out of a Monty Python sketch and critics at the time of the film's release pointed out the absurdity of having draperies serve as the catalyst for such dark goings-on. The film was considered a major disappointment and has largely been forgotten. However, looking at the movie today, one is impressed with the sheer amount of talent involved in the production. It should also be pointed out that saying the movie is about curtains is as inaccurate as saying The Titanic is a movie about icebergs. In fact, The Cobweb is a reasonably compelling drama that sustains interest despite an "everything but the kitchen" sink formula for introducing crisis after crisis for the main characters and a tacked on happy ending that deviated from the book. Widmark is a commanding screen presence and Gloria Grahame excels as his sex-starved wife. Grahame completely overshadows the presence of Lauren Bacall, who underplays to the point of invisibility. There is also a scene-stealing performance by Lillian Gish as an insecure administrator with no life outside of her office duties and who is immediately threatened by any incursion into her spheres of influence. Charles Boyer is an odd but inspired choice as the institute's director, a  man who has sold out in terms of his professional ethics simply to enjoy a cozy life and a fat pay check. John Kerr and Susan Strasberg also impress as anti-social young people who predictably become attracted to each other.

The Cobweb is a potboiler, pure and simple. While it's not a "lost classic" by any means, it seems the film does deserve to be re-evaluated for its many merits.

The movie is available on DVD through the Warner Archive. The transfer is very good and includes the original theatrical trailer.  

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By Lee Pfeiffer

(Cinema Retro is pleased to announce that we will be reviewing titles now available on the Warner Archive Instant Streaming Service.)  

Warner Archive has released The Venetian Affair as a streaming video title, having previously been released as a burn to order DVD. The intriguing 1967 spy thriller is often mistaken for a Man From U.N.C.L.E. feature film since it stars Robert Vaughn, was released by MGM and features the word "affair" in the title. Yet the movie is far removed from the fanciful world of U.N.C.L.E. In fact it's a refreshingly downbeat espionage drama that was based on a best-selling book by Helen MacInnes. Vaughn plays Bill Fenner, a disgraced ex-CIA man who battles a penchant for booze while trying to eek out a living as a reporter for an international wire service. Fenner is sent to Venice ostensibly to investigate the apparent suicide bombing of an international peace conference committed by a respected U.S. diplomat. Fenner soon discovers he is a pawn in a complex plot that involves mind control and enemy agents. The role afforded Vaughn a chance to showcase his considerable acting skills and he plays Fenner as a moody and not particularly heroic figure. The one trait similar to Napoleon Solo is that he manages to intertwine with some exotic European lovelies including his ex-wife Elke Sommer and mysterious femme fatales Luciana Paluzzi and Felicia Farr. 

Original movie tie-in paperback edition.

Although the interiors were obviously filmed at MGM studios, director Jerry Thorpe capitalizes on the exotic sites and sounds of Venice, always a prime location for stories of mystery and intrigue. The movie is largely devoid of humor but reliable character actor Roger C. Carmel provides a few moments of levity. The excellent supporting cast includes Edward Asner as Fenner's crotchety former CIA boss who still harbors hatred for him, Karl Boehm as the enemy agent who masterminds the mind control plot and Boris Karloff, who is refreshingly given an important and intelligent role at a point in his career when he was largely relegated to low-budget Mexican horror movies. The movie also boasts a wonderfully atmospheric score by Lalo Schifrin. 

Click here to access the Warner Archive streaming service.  

By Don L. Stradley 

What can one say about a movie that is nothing more than 90 minutes of a guy trying to start an old VW bus? That’s what Ryan Steven Green’s Circle the Wagens seems to be, as we follow a couple of good-hearted fellows in their attempt to bring a “baby blue ‘72” across the country to California. The vehicle, a rusted Volkswagen Transporter Deluxe won on eBay, is affectionately known as “The Croc.” It breaks down. It starts up. It breaks down. It starts up. Somebody paints it. It breaks down. And that’s the story.

The movie is supposed to amuse us with the camaraderie of men linked by their love of VWs, but there’s really not enough here to hang a story. It grows monotonous to hear someone groping for words to explain why these vehicles inspire such devotion. No one really has a good reason, although a few people correctly point out that all cars “look the same nowadays.” True, the old VWs stand out and have some character, but what’s the point if yours won’t start?

Our happy go lucky protagonist, Dave Torstenson, doesn’t help matters, labeling himself early on as someone who knows nothing about cars. Great, just the guy we want to spend 90 minutes with as he fumbles with his heap. We’re told constantly about his adventurous spirit, and how he went to Iraq in 2006 to teach elementary school, but while I’m sure he’s a nice guy, none of this makes one care if he gets his piece of junk bus across the country. Green even stops the movie halfway through so Torstenson can enter a steak eating contest at some hillbilly dive, as if watching someone chew a steak is any more interesting than watching someone try to start up an old rust bucket.

According to the movie’s website, Green “made his first documentary at the tender age of 19. Its subject was the ‘blue flame,’ that is, lighting farts on fire. The topics of subsequent films are equally symptomatic of an unfashionably happy childhood: snails, moustaches, modern homesteaders, coffee, and now Volkswagens.” Well, I haven’t seen his movies about farts or mustaches, but if Circle The Wagens is any indication, I’ll avoid them. Circle the Wagens is almost saved by cinematographer Lawson Demming, who shoots the roadside motels and the big sky scenery with élan. It’s not enough, though.

The movie has been well received on the festival circuit, and given a surprisingly high rating on the IMDB, I imagine due to its DIY vibe. (Green edited the thing on a computer inside the Croc, which earns him some points from “do it yourselfers.”) Some viewers may be satisfied with the colorful photography, the nostalgia for cheap roadside kitsch, and the earthiness of the characters. Some may find a metaphor here for an old America that is dying. Some may even be tickled to know about this Volkswagen subculture. To me, watching this was like listening to someone who doesn’t speak a language try to bluff his way through a conversation. The rhythms may be there, and the right facial expressions, but there’s nothing being said.

If you can’t wait for this one to hit the cable channels devoted to cars and such, it will be available VOD on 7/29, and DVD 8/26. For more about the film, visit CircleTheWagen.com. 

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By Rod Barnett

DVD production company Vinegar Syndrome seems to be trying to pick up the market that Something Weird Video has cultivated over the past fifteen years or so. And that is a good thing! Their desire to restore and release as many independently produced exploitation films as possible is both laudable and impressive. I count myself as a cult film fan but a look at their list of titles leaves me scratching my head in wonderment as I have never heard of most of the movies they are dealing to the public. My few dips into the VS catalog have been interesting, sleazy fun but I was caught off guard by this disc. The company is following the Something Weird template of having each DVD comprised of a double feature of titles that have some kind of themed connection. In this case we have two set-bound, low budget talky dramas spiced with sex in one case and ..... I'm not sure what in the other.

The Candidate (1964) was pitched to me as a sexploitation film staring Ted Knight and my mind rejected that description sight unseen. There can be no such film, said logic and reason. Surely the planet would rip asunder if such a movie existed, said sanity. Ted Knight of The Mary Tyler Moore show engaged in sexual shenanigans? This cannot be true. And in the end this thought process was proven right enough for me to retain my intellect after screening the film. Now, there are sexploitation elements in the film as you might expect with any film that top lines sex kitten Mamie Van Doren, but those are the least interesting parts. (Of the film, I mean…) She plays Samantha, a hard working modern woman who, because of a chance encounter with senatorial candidate Frank Carlton (Ted Knight), is offered a job by conniving campaign runner Eric (Buddy Parker) aiming to work for the prospective senator. She agrees and we are then shown the complicated way various relationships shape the campaign and how it all falls apart. In a strange choice, the story is related as a series of flashbacks as the main characters are grilled in front of a Congressional hearing which causes the film to feel like a mild and overly solemn courtroom drama. It can be pretty entertaining to watch Eric procure ladies for the Washington elite but the film bogs down once the shape of the downfall of Knight's character comes into focus. Parker plays the ruthless Eric as a cynical bastard and he isn't bad in the role but its Knight who is most impressive. As his character meets and falls in love with Angela (June Wilkinson) we see this shy man come alive and have to face the fact that the woman he cares for will destroy his hoped-for career. Knight is exceptional in the role, investing great care in showing very nuanced emotions as he struggles with his options. In the scenes involving his character, the film is solid and the courtroom sequences are very well- scripted.However, the rest of the movie- the sexploitation parts- are dry as dust. This is the film's problem- it has half of a good movie but it has been shackled to a silly lingerie show with Miss Van Doren. In the end The Candidate isn't a bad movie but it isn't very good either, which is a shame.

Vinegar Syndrome has coupled the main feature with a decidedly 'B' picture from 1957 called Johnny Gunman. If The Candidate sometimes felt a bit set-bound, it looks better with this movie immediately following it. Extremely low budget, the film seems to have been shot on the cheap and quick with little time for second takes. The story takes place in New York (I think) as gangster Johnny G (Martin Brooks) spends a long night hiding out from a rival hood. This other gang boss named Allie (Johnny Seven) is up for the same new position as Johnny but has the added impetus of a Lady MacBeth-like girlfriend pushing him to off the competition. While on the run from gunmen, Johnny finds himself in a cafe where he threatens the patrons and then propositions the only pretty girl in the place, Coffee (Ann Donaldson). The other customers don't like the idea of this nice girl spending all night with this dangerous man so a bargain is worked out- she will spend two hours with each of the three men who want her attention over the next six hours. If this sounds artificial, you are right. The rest of the movie plays out with Coffee spending her required time with each man as she seeks a story worth writing about- she's a journalist, you see. As you might expect, she falls for Johnny's criminal charms and must decide if she will return to her little home town or stay in the big city to love a bad man good. To call this film dull is to be too nice. It has a 67 minute running time and I nearly dozed off twice in the first forty-five minutes. The movie feels both rushed and static with only a few poorly constructed sets on view. The acting is half-hearted with Miss Donaldson taking top honors as the stiffest actress in memory. Some of her line deliveries are as if she had never read the script before walking onto the hastily nailed together set. Ugh! Save yourself the time and skip it.

The DVD carries no extras but both movies look very good. The Candidate is in very sharp black & white anamorphic 1.85:1 widescreen presentation with Johnny Gunman looking just as good on a 1.33:1 print. I might have wished for some more information on these movies but in the end I'm just happy they are available. Well, I'm happy one of them is available.

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(Visit Rod Barnett’s blog, The Bloody Pit of Rod for more retro movie reviews). 

“HEARTS AND MINDS” (1974; directed by Peter Davis)

(The Criterion Collection)

‘LEST WE FORGET

By Raymond Benson

The Academy Award for Best Documentary of 1974 went to the controversial and incendiary Hearts and Minds, the first big movie about the Vietnam War that attempted to prove to the world that America made a huge mistake. A lot of people didn’t like that being said.

Produced by Bert Schneider (of BBS Productions fame—Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, The Last Picture Show, many others) and director Peter Davis, the documentary is most definitely one-sided in its arguments. The entire film is shaped and edited to present the most anti-war statement possible, as well as put a bad light on the men in power that made the decisions to go to war in the first place.

You can imagine that in 1974 this was not an easy pill to swallow. Never mind that the picture is brilliantly made—the footage is unbelievably powerful and sometimes very difficult to watch. Remember those photos of the little Vietnamese girl running naked down the road, a victim of a Napalm attack? Well, in the movie, you see film footage in color of that very scene as it happened. The same is true of the famous photo depicting the execution by gunshot of a Vietcong prisoner in the street by a Saigon police chief. In Hearts and Minds, we don’t see the still photo, we see the actual killing, again in color. These are among the many horrific imagery contained in the picture, much of it stock footage. However, most of the running time is taken up by interviews with guys like General William Westmoreland, Clark Clifford (Secretary of Defense 1968-1969), Walt Rostow (aide to Kennedy and Johnson), Daniel Elsberg (former aide to Defense Department), and many other talking heads. Most of them come off as windbags spouting stuff we now know is simply not true (General Westmoreland: “The Oriental doesn’t put the same high price on life as does a Westerner.”).

The film is obviously divisive as to which side of the aisle you reside—liberal or conservative. I’m sure even today there are plenty of conservatives who still believe we were right to go to Vietnam. While this column is meant to be a review of the documentary, I think I can safely say that history has proven that the liberals were right all along. Looking back at this picture now, it simply reconfirms what we should have learned from the mistakes made.

The Criterion Collection has re-issued Hearts and Minds in a dual format—Blu-ray and DVD (three disCs)—in a high-definition digital restoration supervised by director Davis and cinematographer Richard Pearce. The audio commentary is by Davis. Added to this new release are over two hours of unused footage, including interviews of people not seen in the film (e.g. David Brinkley). Overkill? Perhaps, but for war history buffs who want to dig into the depths of this admittedly biased but fascinating condemnation of a black mark in our time, then don’t miss Hearts and Minds.

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By Todd Garbarini

Director Peter Hunt’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service celebrates its 45^th anniversary this year. Actor George Lazenby, who donned the role of Bond, James Bond, for this singular film will be appearing for a Q and A at the screening on Tuesday, July 8, 2014. The event will be held at the Landmark Theatre, 10850 West Pico at Westwood Blvd., Los Angeles, CA. From the press release:

James Bond goes undercover in the treacherous Swiss Alps in this underrated, highly entertaining, action-packed epic filled with artillery-laden ski pursuits, incredible stunts and nonstop thrills! George Lazenby (in his only appearance as James Bond) leaps into the role of Agent 007 with supreme confidence and undeniable charisma, even finding love with the beautiful and seductive Tracy Di Vicenzo (Diana Rigg). But first Bond must stop evil genius Blofeld (Telly Savalas) from releasing a germ warfare plot that could kill millions! Directed by Peter R. Hunt (Gold, Shout at the Devil).

Click here for more information.

The Trailers from Hell web site features director John Landis weighing in with commentary on David Lean's 1957 masterpiece The Bridge on the River Kwai. Click here to view.  

The Hollywood Reporter says that Harrison Ford's recent injury on the set of the new Star Wars film, now shooting in England, resulted in a broken ankle and he may miss filming for up to eight weeks. Nevertheless, producers are confident that they can get around the problem and that the film's December 18, 2015 will not be affected. For more click here 

By Lee Pfeiffer

Having been friends with a number of people in my life who are- or have been- car salesman, one thing becomes clear very quickly: you need to have a thick skin and a good sense of humor in order to survive in this curious profession. Not even bank robbers have seen their reputations degraded as much as car salesman- especially those who specialize in used cars...er, make that "previously owned vehicles", in the parlance of today. As with any profession, generalities can be dangerous. There are undoubtedly many reputable people selling cars but even they will tell you that, behind the scenes, the overriding strategies are to close the deal, no matter what it takes. I've always found it rather ironic that while, on the national level, car companies spend a fortune to present their products in TV ads that have production values that suggest class, style and elegance- while at the local level, car dealers swamp the airwaves with home-made ads that are cheap, cheesy and unintentionally hilarious. The consumer sees an ad during the Super Bowl with a guy who looks like 007 behind the wheel of a spanking new vehicle. Yet his local dealership sells the same product through ads featuring the owner, his mother, his cutesy kids - and in some cases over the top comic scenarios that are something out of the old Second City TV skits. (A local dealer near me is a portly fellow who routinely sells his cars while dressed in tights as a super hero!)

Car dealerships already had shaky reputations by the time director Robert Zemeckis rode a semi over the profession with his 1980 comedy "Used Cars". Twilight Time has released the special 2002 DVD edition as a limited edition (3,000 units) Blu-ray title. The film clearly exploited the new screen freedoms in the realm of tasteless humor that had been introduced a couple of years before by director John Landis with "National Lampoon's Animal House". There are those who consider "Used Cars" to be on par with that comedy classic, while others feel its "everything-but-the-kitchen sink" structure makes it more chaotic than consistently funny. In this writer's opinion, the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Zemeckis and his co-writer Bob Gale had previously written and directed the 1978 film "I Wanna Hold Your Hand", which Steven Spielberg produced. The underrated and largely under-exposed comedy was the antithesis of "Used Cars" in that it was a sweet-natured look at how the arrival of The Beatles in America wreaked havoc on the lives of New York teenagers. Zemeckis and Gale went on to write Spielberg's epic 1979 WWII comedy "1941" before getting the green light to do "Used Cars", which was executive produced by Spielberg and John Milius.

"Used Cars" opens on a cynical shot of Arizona car salesman Rudy Russo (Kurt Russell) tampering with the odometer on a beat-up vehicle in the hopes he can sucker some poor soul into buying it. Rudy is a charismatic young man who is a charming as he is soulless in terms of his moral fiber. He is intent on raising $10,000 so he can afford to be a credible candidate in the forthcoming race for state senator, a job he presumes will enable him to benefit from even greater graft and corruption. Meanwhile, the only person he respects is the owner of the car lot, the elderly Luke Fuchs (Jack Warden), a man in precarious health whose days are clearly numbered. Luke is locked in a constant daily battle with his more affluent brother Roy (also played by Warden) who has a successful car lot directly across the highway from Luke. Despite the fact that Roy's sales far out-gross those of Luke, he is intent on using dirty tricks to gain control over his less fortunate brother's lot so that he can have the biggest dealership in the state. Much of the humor derives from Rudy's intense attempts to use chicanery to outwit Roy's attempts to seize Luke's property. When Luke suddenly expires, Rudy fears that Roy will inherit the car lot. He enlists the assistance of his two slovenly co-workers Jeff (Gerritt Graham) and Jim (Frank McRae) to hatch an audacious plan whereby they bury Luke inside a car on his own lot then try to convince Roy that he has taken a sudden trip to Florida. Roy isn't buying it and uses his affluence to buy off local officials to launch an investigation. Complicating matters is the arrival of Luke's estranged daughter Barbara (Deborah Harmon). Rudy woos and beds her while hiding the fact that her dad is actually dead. As the film unwinds, the story becomes increasingly ludicrous and culminates in a wildly ambitious sequence in which Rudy organizers a fleet of 250 dilapidated vehicles driven by high school students on a race across the Arizona desert as part of a scheme to ensure Barbara inherits her father's car lot.

"Used Cars" boasts some truly amusing performances with Kurt Russell as the glue that holds this disparate cast together. For Russell, who had recently won acclaim for his portrayal of Elvis Presley in a TV movie, the Zemeckis film was pivotal in proving he could also draw audiences to movie theaters. (Heretofore, he was primarily known as the child and teen age star of many Walt Disney films). Every cast member is impressive and adds immeasurably to the fun, but it's Jack Warden's terrific tour de force performance as both brothers that dominates the film. Zemeckis and Gale have some misfires among the machine gun-fire like rapidity of jokes and comic situations, but they score more than they miss their targets. In one amusing sequence, they actually incorporate footage of then President Jimmy Carter in an outlandish manner. The highlight of the film is clearly the junk heap car race across the desert with Rudy and Roy battling each other from side-by-side pick up trucks like a modern version of the "Ben-Hur" chariot race. The sequence is so over-the-top and logistically impressive that you can honestly say that you've never seen anything like it. "Used Cars" has something to offend everyone: vulgar language abounds, there is disrespect for the dead, the American political system is mocked in a cynical manner and there is plenty of gratuitous tits-and-ass. No wonder I feel like watching it again.

The Twilight Time releases keeps the features from the previous special edition DVD including an award-winning 2003 commentary track featuring Zemeckis, Gale and Russell that is delightful throughout. The guys even goof about their own sloppiness in making the film (the opening frames accidentally reveal a soundman's arm and boom mic in a rear view mirror of a car). Clearly, they had as good a time reflecting on the experience as they did in making the film. There is an isolated score by Patrick Williams and an unused score by the estimable Ernest Gold. Additionally, there are radio spots and a TV ad done for a local Arizona car dealership where the movie was shot in which Kurt Russell actually appears (obviously as a favor) on camera with the lot's owner and help's pitch that week's specials on used cars!  A gag reel and some outtakes are surprisingly flat and unfunny. There is also an original trailer from the days in which trailers themselves did not have to be rated. Thus, it's packed with gratuitous nudity even though it was screened to family audiences, which must have caused countless parents to have "that" conversation with their kids before they were ready to do so. There is also a terrific gallery of promotional materials including one ad that features notes from Steven Spielberg in which he complains that they may have produced a distasteful movie, but the ad campaign he is rejecting went too far in pointing this out. The movie was released during the presidential election period of 1980 and one ad notes that Ronald Reagan was not the only actor vying for the nation's top office- and invites audiences to see then incumbent President Jimmy Carter's movie debut. (As mentioned previously, this is a sly reference to newsreel footage seen in the film.) This particular ad also featured the likenesses of both candidates. Try doing that today! 

The Twilight Time release is top notch. The film is not going to be everyone's cup of tea, but it is inspired lunacy that, at times, makes Animal House look as sophisticated as 'Love's Labour's Lost'. 

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THEY BOUGHT US LOVE

By RAYMOND BENSON 

Released in the summer of 1964, A Hard Day’s Night, starring The Beatles and directed by Richard Lester, is arguably the second most influential British film of that decade (the first being Goldfinger, coincidentally released the same year.). Why? For one thing, it brought The Beatles to a worldwide audience that was just getting to know them through their music. Secondly, it spawned imitations and knock-offs (The Monkees, anyone?) and is arguably the genesis of music videos—where would MTV have been without it? Thirdly, the film itself was innovative, fresh, and surprisingly funny (those long-haired boys from Liverpool could actually act!).

One of the best things about the Criterion Collection’s new deluxe box set of the film (dual Blu-ray and DVD, three discs) is the short extra, On the Road to “A Hard Day’s Night,” an interview with author Mark Lewisohn, that documents how The Beatles did not magically appear on The Ed Sullivan Show in February 1964, already brilliant, already at the top of their game. In fact, as every serious Beatles fan knows, their story began in 1958 when John Lennon met Paul McCartney in Liverpool at the ages of seventeen and fifteen, respectively, and they started playing music together and writing songs (George joined not long after at age fourteen!). The first four years embodied a lot of work gaining experience, honing their skills, and creating an act that would change not only music itself, but pop culture. The Hamburg days, the early shows with Pete Best, the gigs for peanuts, the obtaining of managers (first Allan Williams, then Brian Epstein), auditioning for producer George Martin, being rejected by a major record label, and then finally landing a contract with one—these were all things none of us in America were aware of when we watched the four lads perform on Ed Sullivan. What we saw was a tight, talented band, and it seemed as if they’d come from nowhere. (Apologies to UK readers, who of course knew how great the band was all through 1963.)

Anyway—on to A Hard Day’s Night. Kudos to United Artists executive David Picker, who greenlit a three-picture deal with producer Walter Shenson (Picker was also responsible for green-lighting Dr. No, a little picture featuring a character named James Bond). Picker had the foresight to make the deal with The Beatles in 1963, well before the band’s appearance on U.S. television. Apparently his instincts were good. If he hadn’t done it then, someone else would have much later, and I dare say the results would not have been as good.

It was no accident that American director Richard Lester was hired to helm the movie, either. He was living in the UK and had directed British television, especially those crazy guys known as the Goons (Spike Milligan, Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe), who were forerunners of that type of English humor we Americans found odd but grew to love, especially by the time Monty Python came around. The Beatles were fans of the Goons, so they figured Lester was their guy. It was a perfect match. Lester not only brought out that odd British humor, but he also combined the elements of the British New Wave in cinema (the “kitchen-sink dramas” of the “angry young men”) and the French New Wave (radical editing, improvisation, hand-held camerawork, low budget), and created something very new.

And then there’s the music. Did you know that the song, “A Hard Day’s Night,” was written overnight, on demand by producer Shenson, because they needed something that matched the title? Not only was it a good song, it was a massive hit song! Imagine that... “Hey boys, could you write a number with the title in it?” “Sure, Walter, we’ll have it for you in the morning.” Bang. Oh. My. God. And that’s not to mention all the other great tunes in the film. (For my money, the UK version of A Hard Day’s Night, the album, is one of The Beatles’ five best records.)

As this is a Criterion release, you can expect nothing but an outstanding transfer of the film itself—4K digital restoration, approved by Lester, with three audio options—monaural soundtrack, a stereo 5.1 surround mix, and a DTS-HD master audio on the Blu-ray. Wow. There’s also an audio commentary by some of the cast and crew.

The extras are wonderful—some we’ve seen before, but others are new. A nice piece on Lester, Picturewise, is narrated by Rita Tushingham and features Lester’s early work (and there’s the obligatory inclusion of Lester’s The Running Jumping & Standing Still Film). In Their Own Voices is a new piece mixing 1964 interviews with The Beatles with behind-the-scenes footage and photos. A longer 1994 documentary, “You Can’t Do That: The Making of ‘A Hard Day’s Night’” by producer Shenson, also includes an outtake performance by the band. Things They Said Today is a 2002 documentary about the film featuring interviews with Lester, Martin, screenwriter Alun Owen, and cinematographer Gilbert Taylor. And there’s more, much more.

Can’t buy me love? Forget it! The Beatles, Walter Shenson, Richard Lester, David Picker, and everyone else involved with the film certainly bought enough love for us... and we’re still basking in it.

The Criterion Collection’s A Hard Day’s Night is a must-buy.

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The Hollywood Reporter visits Jerry Lewis at his home in Las Vegas and finds the 88 year old comedy legend as opinionated, cranky and funny as ever as his career undergoes yet another renaissance. Click here to read