Digital Delirium September
By: Sean Axmaker |
Wednesday September 14, 2005 |
| September's Delirium delves into the gothic horror revival of The Hammer Horror Series, classic Asian sci-fi by Ishiro Hondo, the Bela Lugosi Collection, and much more. |
| Quite possibly the greatest DVD bargain of the year -- at least for fans of gothic horror in general and the Hammer Films lusty crimson gothic horror revival in particular -- The Hammer Horror Series (Universal) packs 8 films on 4 sides of 2 discs. That it isn't to say it's a particularly thoughtful collection, or that any overriding theme pulls the films together. Hammer classics like the superior Brides of Dracula (1960), a Terence Fisher-directed Dracula sequel lacking the magnetic center of Christopher Lee yet made memorable by Peter Cushing's heroic Van Helsing and some brilliantly staged sequences from Fisher, and The Curse of the Werewolf (1961), another Fisher classic with Oliver Reed as a moon-cursed man whose werewolf is an inspired combination of feral prehistoric beast and tragic Cocteau-inspired Beast, are tossed in with less stellar franchise sequels Evil of Frankenstein (1964) and Kiss of the Vampire (1963), and Hitchcockian psycho-thrillers Paranoiac (1963) and Nightmare (1964). But apart from the Fisher-directed films (which also includes his remake of Phantom of the Opera, 1962, with Herbert Lom), the set is most notable for the debut of a Hammer holy grail: Night Creatures (aka Captain Clegg, 1962). Unseen in America for decades, the thriller is no horror film, but it unleashes Hammer's trademark Gothic style on a dynamic genre mix: part pirate film, part smuggler thriller, part shadowy small-town crime conspiracy. Based on the same story as Disney's Dr. Syn, Alias the Scarecrow, it stars Peter Cushing as a droll small town minister Dr. Blyss,whose ministrations are genuine, even if his collar is a cover for his nocturnal activities as the leader of smuggling ring. Directed with great flair by the otherwise forgotten director Peter Graham Scott, who brings lusty gothic flair, a weird mood, and striking spook-show imagery (the great "Marsh Phantoms" and the scarecrow sentinel spy) to his sole Hammer production, it's one of the studio's overlooked classics, defined as much by the even-handed treatment of both the smugglers -- who are loyal to one another, hue to a code, and protect the town from the abuses of the government -- and the honorable naval officer (Patrick Allen) sent to root them out. Cushing delivers one of his best performances as the protective Blyss, whose sacrifice illustrates his evolution from bloodthirsty pirate (glimpsed in the opening scene) to protective father figure.
The 5-film, single disc The Bela Lugosi Collection (Universal) is almost as great a bargain, a quintet of Lugosi's best post-Dracula films, from the gruesome, grotesque Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932), a free Poe adaptation directed by Robert Florey and shot by the great Karl Freund, to a quartet of films with Boris Karloff, whose billing overtook the slipping Lugosi over time. The collection includes The Raven (1935), The Invisible Ray (1936), and Black Friday (1940), but the essential film of the collection is The Black Cat (1934), one of the finest horror films to emerge from Universal's golden age of horror. In a rare heroic role, Lugosi plays a haunted doctor on a mission of vengeance against a demonically dark priest (a mesmerizing Karloff) who built his castle (a glorious concoction of modern glass and steel and ancient stone) on the desolate battlefield gravesite where he sacrificed his own army to the forces of darkness in World War I. Karloff's most insidiously evil role ever, inspired by real-life Satanist Aleister Crowley, is a monster in human guise and Lugosi matches him as the tormented Van Helsing-like hero whose simmering hatred and rage explodes in a sadistic revenge that has to be seen to be believed. Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer (who was -- reportedly-- soon blackballed from the studio system and relegated to turning out minor masterpieces for poverty row studios), this first and finest pairing of the iconic actors of the Golden Age of Horror is a baroque masterpiece, the pinnacle of expressionism of Hollywood . The Mysterians (Tokyo Shock) (1957), a bizarre alien invasion thriller from Godzilla auteur Ishiro Hondo, features the tagline to top all taglines: "The greatest science-fiction picture ever conceived by the mind of man." The kitschy minor classic doesn't quite live up to that billing, but it does deliver a meteor that causes a forest fire that burns from the roots, an earthquake that swallows a small village, and a giant robot that looks like Mecha-Godzilla with aardvark stylings ("the first robot in Toho films," according to the excellent commentary by Japanese special effects veterans Koichi Kawakita, who later worked with Mysterians special effects director Eiji Tsuburaya, and Shinji Higuchi), not to mention the slowest spaceships to hover through the atmosphere. Fans of the Godzilla franchise and related Japanese sci-fi films of the era will see the roots of familiar alien invaders in the small army of pompous would-be conquerors in matching white jumpsuits and color-coordinated motorcycle helmets. They spout a pacifist line, but like any conquering army, they just want more land and their pick of the women. Akira Kurosawa favorite Takashi Shimura (the humble, veteran leader of The Seven Samurai) plays the paternal scientist who watches the youngsters get all the best scenes and the cornball lines: "The tragedy of the Mysterians is a good example for us! Don't use science in the wrong way!" The disc features an affectionate and informative commentary track (in Japanese with English subtitles), an isolated score, and galleries of stills, designs, and storyboards. Claudio Guerin Hill's Spanish psycho-horror A Bell From Hell (Pathfinder) (1973) walks a fine line between horror and sick humor. It opens with hero Renaud Verley getting his discharge from an insane asylum and immediately taking a job in an abattoir, where he apparently is just out to get an education in the fine art of slaughtering live animals. Things don't look too promising for his relatives -- his "dear old aunt" (Viveca Lindfors), who controls the family fortune as long as he's judge incompetent, and his three gorgeous cousins -- but he seems more prankster than predator, even as his increasingly elaborate practical jokes suggest as disturbing, perhaps dangerous instability. Hill plays on Verley's ambiguity throughout the film as he perverse sense of humor tweaks the hypocrites of his small town; jokes aside, Verley is the most honest character in a socially corrupt small town. But he also has unfinished business with his grasping relatives and the film pays off in suitably lurid and kinky third act that is perversely satisfying in its unpredictable twists while still keeping the audience off-balance. Director Claudio Guerin Hill reportedly committed suicide on the final day of shooting, leaping to his death from the bell tower featured in the film, and post-production was supervised by his mentor Juan Antonio Bardem (father of actor Javier Bardem). Features commentary and film notes by film programmer and critic Chris D. An iconic outlaw classic of seventies speed cinema, Dirty Mary Crazy Larry (Anchor Bay) (1974) is a drive-in movie for the ages. Peter Fonda is all testosterone and arrogance as Larry, a swaggeringly irresponsible former race car driver who plots a supermarket heist with his devoted, more level-headed mechanic (Adam Rourke). Pouty Susan George is pure devil-may-care sexual firecracker as wild child Mary, who calls shotgun on their getaway largely because she hasn't anything better to do. They make a combustible pair and it's only a matter of time before the sparks these thrill-addicts throw off in their destructive flirtations (many of which sabotage their getaway plans) sets them off. Directed with equal energy by British director John Hough, whose lean, high-powered action scenes are energized by the dynamic, almost child-like performances of his thrill-addicted characters, this film is from an era when car chase and stunt films were really about rubber hitting -- and leaving -- the road. Cars screech, metal collapses upon impact, and there's never any question that it's all really happening on screen. Vic Morrow leads the pursuit as a single-minded lawman who grabs a helicopter to stop their getaway and Kenneth Tobey grumbles as his by-the-book boss. The nicely mastered disc features commentary by director John Hough with moderator Perry Martin and the succinct retrospective featurette Ride the Wild Side with Hough and stars Peter Fonda and Susan George. Anchor Bay also released another Fonda classic of the era, the chase thriller Race With the Devil (1975) with Warren Oates, at the same time. "My name is Maiku Hama. That's my real name." Masatoshi Nagase is Maiku "Mike" Hama, the Elvis of Japanese private detectives, in Kaizo Hayashi's Maiku Hama Private Eye Trilogy (Kino), a lively, witty tribute to American private eye films with a serious core. The snazzy, snappy dressing Yokohama PI with a perfectly coiffed pompadour, an office in a movie theater, and a sporty little convertible, the former juvenile delinquent scrambles for jobs, ducks repo men, and tangles with a lazily corrupt cop who won't let Maiku live down his troubled past. The Most Terrible Time of My Life (1994), shot in iconic B&W widescreen, begins as a lighthearted film noir with sharp edges but soon transforms into a grim thriller with Hama helplessly watching the human destruction as a vicious crew of young Taiwanese gangsters take on the established Yakuza syndicate. It sets the pattern for all three films: a light comic introduction, set to a bopping, brassy score -- part Bond, part Sinatra, and all swinging sixties swagger -- gives way to the dark corruption of the underworld of the mean streets of Tokyo. In The Stairway to the Distant Past (1995), the series becomes a full color blast as Maiku is pulled into no man's land of the waterfront where a mythical criminal emperor known as the White Man (who terrifies both the yakuza and the cops) may be the key to Maiku's mysterious past. Even darker is The Trap (1996), where would-be hard-boiled boy scout Maiku has a girlfriend (a mute cutie who communicates in gestures, primitive Morse code, and faxes) who is targeted by a psychotic serial killer (also played by Nagase) who frames Maiku for his crimes. Hayashi's jazzy style is at once both playful and serious, full of comic wit and lighthearted character comedy that separates the Maiku's world -- an evocative community of friends, neighbors, and fellow PIs -- from the mean streets he must walk down. In Hayashi's world, it's that community that rises up to protect him when the rest of the world lets him down. Each disc in the box set features stills and trailers for the entire trilogy. Finally, Shinya Tsukamoto's midnight movie freak-out Tetsuo: The Iron Man (Tartan) (1988) is re-released in a newly remastered edition, giving the bracing black and white grunge classic a searing look. The cyberpunk head trip is the waking nightmare of a man losing control as his body fuses with the industrial world around him. Or is it merely his guilt hammering his psyche after he kills a man in a traffic accident? Tsukamoto begins the film with a bad dream that turns prophetic, but what is real and what isn't? Tsukamoto's not telling and that's part of the hallucinatory grip of this startling and inventive film. Filled with wild stop motion effects and brilliant conceptual horrors, this is horror film for the modern technological world. Game over. The new edition features an interview with director Shinya Tsukamoto, scenes from other Tsukamoto films and a sneak peek at Tsukamoto's new film Vital. |
