Posts Tagged With: Video Nasties

What Do You Wanna Make Those Eyes At Me For? Jess Franco’s THE DEVIL HUNTER On 88 BD.

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“They make me glad, they make me sad, they make me wanna lot of things that I never had”

BD. Region Free. 88 Films. 18.

The Devil Hunter (1980… aka The Man Hunter / Mandingo Man Hunter / Sexo-Canibale or, on this print, plain old El Canibal) was originally to have been directed by Amando de Ossorio (he of the atmospheric Blind Dead series) but when he dropped out the property devolved into the careless hands of Franco, here employing his trusty “Clifford Brown” alias. Utilizing the sets, locations, general tone and certain cast members from his 1979 film Cannibals / White Cannibal Queen, Franco mounts an objectionable, albeit entertaining (if you’re in an undemanding mood) racist / sexist fantasy in which starlet Laura Crawford (Ursulla Fellner) is abducted and spirited away to an unspecified Third World locale where the natives live in fear of the eponymous Devil, offering him frenzied tribal dances and chained maidens in supplication.

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The Devil, when he finally turns up, is a major disappointment, being nothing more than a tall black guy with ping pong eyeballs. But boy, can he eat pussy … no, really, he actually eats pussy!! Meanwhile Fellner, in chains (a major Franco preoccupation), is being raped by one of the kidnappers, while gang-leader Gisela Hahn (from Luigi Cozzi’s Contamination) enjoys the spectacle from her hammock.

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Back in civilization, Al Cliver (Pier Luigi Conti), in low-rent Indiana Jones threads, is picking up a hefty fee to liberate this damsel in distress. He’s flown out to that unspecified Third World jungle in a helicopter, then, true to Franco form, spends an eternity wandering around in the undergrowth not actually doing anything much. Eventually he arranges with the ’nappers to swap the girl for a suitcase stuffed with money. They keep the girl and try to shoot Cliver, but anticipating this turn of events, he has stuffed the suitcase with worthless paper (unfilmed Franco scripts, perhaps… if, indeed, such a thing ever existed).

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Now the bad guys start getting picked off by The Devil (Hahn’s head is beaten in with a rock) and the natives prepare Fullner for consumption … none of this being anything like as interesting as it might sound. Cliver scales the cliff on top of which the sacrifice is to take place and incredibly, his cliff-scaling exploits are rendered by that staple expedient of the old Batman TV series, i.e. Franco’s camera is laid on its side and Cliver is filmed crawling across the floor! It’s for the individual viewer to decide whether this is more or less ridiculous than the spectacle of Al with his arm (supposedly amputated by natives) conspicuously tied behind his back in Franco’s Cannibals. Whatever, Cliver makes it to the cliff-top and, after a perfunctory wrestling match, hurls The Devil to his death, saves the gal and pockets the money. The natives are so chagrined at the death of their idol that they trash his totem pole. Thankfully, the world was spared a sequel in which they turned their worshipful attentions to Indiana Al…

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A gag I seem to have used in several reviews recently runs along the lines of the film in question being sufficiently well remastered to look better than it probably has a right to. This is certainly the case here, a good-looking presentation that underlines the slapdash way that many of these titles were originally thrown out there on VHS (only to be confiscated, in the UK), a point made by both academic and veteran anti-censorship campaigner Julian Petley and our old mate John Martin in Calum Waddell’s 47 minute bonus featurette Franco-Philes: Musings On Madrid’s B-Movie Maverick.

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Other worthies having their say on Franco’s wild and wilful career include ertwhile Fango editor Tony Timpone, Hypnotic Crescendos blogger Rachael Nisbet, Starburst Assistant Editor Martin Unsworth, Andy (Necronomicon) Black and Sitges Film Festival Organiser Mike Hostench, plus Franco collaborators Antonio Mayans, Howard Maurer and Dyanne (Wanda The Wicked Warden herself) Thorne. Nobody has a bad word to say for Franco… then again, I imagine none of them ever sat down to watch Devil Hunter all the way through!

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Jess Franco (1930-2013). We will never see his like again…

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“There’s A Girl In My Soup!” “So What… There’s A Piranha Up My Arse!” CANNIBAL TERROR & Antonio Climati’s THE GREEN INFERNO On 88 Blu-ray.

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1) Don’t Torture A Turtle…

The Green Inferno. BD. Region Free. 88 Films. 15.

Although Eli Roth seemed to be paying his dues by including an Italian cannibal filmography in the credits for his Ruggero Deodato pastiche The Green Inferno, he conspicuously omitted from it the Antonio Climati picture whose title he had pinched. It’s a significant omission because Climati’s Green Inferno (originally released in Italy as Natura Contro in 1988) develops an ongoing argument about the moral dilemmas inextricably associated with The Italian Cannibal Film and the fact that this spilled over into something of an ongoing personal feud between Climati and Deodato makes the whole thing of more than mere academic interest…

The main thrust of this film’s plotting will be all too familiar to regular viewings of Italian man-munching epics, with Professor Korenz (Roberto Ricci) disappearing while on an expedition into the Amazon basin in search of the elusive Eema tribe. Jemma Demien (May Deseligny, who bears a vague, pleasing resemblance to Daria Nicolodi) is your mandatory sassy TV reporter (we’re introduced to when she reports on a head shrinking racket for the mondo-esque TV program “Reality Beyond Fantasy”) aiming to track down the Prof. Inexplicably, she decides to recruit Fred (Marco Merlo) and Mark (Fabrizio Merlo) to the cause. These shiftless sibling adventurers, whose allegedly endearing but actually highly irritating antics include TWOCing planes and driving ludicrously big-wheeled jeeps around, would be better qualified to present the next series of Top Gear… and that’s certainly not intended as a compliment.

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Before you can say “Yanomamo”, however, these good ol’ boys are accompanying Jemma into the jungle, together with their eccentric young scientist pal Pete (never embark on an Amazonian mission without one) played by Pio Maria Federici, who supplies a trumpet accompaniment to (and misconceived witticisms about) the unfolding “action” (if we can stretch a point and call it that). The perils they encounter include frog races, a tussle with an anaconda, attacks by ants, spiders and more of those ubiquitous spiky ball booby traps. Our heroes even have snakes held to their peckers by crime lords who want to find the Eema on account of their alleged inside information on the whereabouts of El Dorado (that old chestnut!) They  manage to break up an organ farming racket en route to their disappointing rendezvous with those Eema types and the discovery of the Professor, who promptly takes off in their plane with Jemma, stranding then so they won’t be able to give away the location of the tribe. “Well, we said we wanted adventure!” one of them quips, though thankfully viewers were spared any sequels. Maybe they never made it back?

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Ruggero Deodate was as fascinated and horrified as anybody by Gualtiero Jacopetti and Franco Prosperi’s epochal Mondo Cane (1962) and its shockumentary sequels. The deadly duo’s 1966 doc Africa Addio (which excites controversy to this day over the provenance of its animal and human death scenes) is often cited as the departure point for his devastating critique of Mondo mores in Cannibal Holocaust, but Deodato seems to have been more focussed, while constructing it, on a couple of mondos co-directed in the mid-70s by Antonio Climati (DP on both Mondo Cane and Africa Addio) and Mario Morra, another protegé of Jacopetti and Prosperi. The films in question were Savage Man, Savage Beast aka Ultime Grida Dalla Savana (“The Last Cries From The Savannah”, 1975)  and This Violent World aka Savage World / Mondo Violence (1976). Both feature the mandatory mix of violence inflicted on both animals and human beings (but how much of it is faked… and how worried should we be about the bits that aren’t?) This Violent World (“banned in 40 countries!”) seems to have registered particularly strongly with Deodato, to the extent that he restages two scenes from it (native women bathe a white man and seem fascinated by his penis / an episode of enforced abortion) in Cannibal Holocaust.

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Japanese poster for This Violent World.

By attempting to grab the Mondo moral high ground, Deodato was laying himself open to charges of having his cake and eating it. Certainly Climati, sensing that the finger was being pointed at him, took note of the animal abuse that litters Cannibal Holocaust and the nudge, nudge marketing which implied that its little known cast had indeed been eaten by cannibals and decided to lob a dissenting brick, in the shape of The Green Inferno, through the wall of Deodato’s cinematic glass house. That’s probably enough mixed metaphors for now…

Serving as his own DP (and making a predictably beautiful job of it, given his CV), Climati shot Contro Natura in the Colombian town Leticia, where Cannibal Holocaust (and also Umberto Lenzi’s coat-tail riding Cannibal Ferox, 1981) had been made. Returning a dubious favour, he copped the Green Inferno title  from a line in Holocaust and also went out of his way to stage scenes in which monkeys, coatis and turtles receive kind treatment at the hands of the protagonists… a very far cry, if not from the Savannah then  from the way in which comparable animals were treated during Deodato’s picture. You don’t have to abuse animals to make a mondo / cannibal picture, seemed to be Climati’s message and although he was a conspicuously late convert to this position, he seems to have won the historical argument, with Deodato and Sergio Martino now endorsing more animal friendly versions of Cannibal Holocaust and Prisoner Of The Cannibal God and Umberto Lenzi accepting (it’s clear that he never entertained any moral qualms on this score) a similarly softened variant of his Cannibal Ferox (all of these for Blu-ray release by Shameless). There are, it’s worth noting, restored shots of monkeys being hit with blow darts in The Green Inferno that had to be trimmed before Vipco got their ’15’ certificate (for a DVD release opportunistically entitled Cannibal Holocaust II) in 2002. There is no record of how a small fish (allegedly a piranha) felt about swimming up and being pulled out of a native porter’s arse.

Bonus materials include a limited edition glossy slip case and booklet with notes by Italian pundit Francesco Massaccesi (these if you buy early enough), remastered trailer, reversible sleeve and Italian opening / closing credits. Most worthy of your attention is Eugenio Ercolani and Giuliano Emanuele’s documentary Scenes From Banned Alive: The Rise And Fall Of The Italian Cannibal Movie, in which Umberto Lenzi, Ruggero Deodato and Sergio Martino are interviewed about their efforts in this particularly blood stained filone. There have been several documentary investigations of this area in recent years (most of them by the UK’s High Rising Productions) but it’s interesting to see a native Italian take on the Phenom. We’d heard that Lenzi and Deodato buried the hatchet before Lenzi’s death but there’s a significant amount of low-level niggling here, though the notoriously irascible Lenzi reserves  most of his ire for stoking another ongoing feud, with Ferox star “John Morghen” aka Giovanni Lombardo Radice. Modest as ever, Lenzi declares the decapitation of Johnny in that film “a stroke of directorial genius!” Steady on

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2) … and among the nominees for best screen dialogue, H.L. Rostaine and Ilona Kunesova…

Cannibal Terror. BD. Region B. 88 Films. 18.

“Can’t you open the fucking door?”

“Shit… oh shit.”

“Shit… what are you doing?”

“Shit… oh shit.”

“Fuck… oh fuck it! No fucking idiot could get that door open… made me look a fucking fool!”

… but seriously folks, “Allan W. Steeve”s Cannibal Terror was never nominated for and certainly never received any Oscars, the only accolade it ever actually managed being a place on the DPP’s official “Video Nasties” list. Because, in our youth, we prided ourselves on our consumption of Forbidden fruits, this was just one of the many cinematic atrocities to which we anal retentive types willingly subjected ourselves, back in the day. Now it’s back on our shelves courtesy of 88 Films, certified ’18’ and in an HD restoration that makes it look whole a lot better than it probably ever had a right to look….

The swear fest we just heard comes courtesy of some kidnappers who abduct a child and secrete it in a safe house, in the depths of some jungle or other, while the ransom is sorted out. Their jungle guide advises them that cannibals lurk behind every bush. “They’d love to put you in the soup” she warns “but if we don’t stop, there’s no sweat.” As it happens, there’s perspiration aplenty when their jeep breaks down. Disregarding her own warnings, the guide wanders off into the undergrowth and is promptly ambushed by the locals who, it has to be said, present a less than convincing spectacle…

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Frighteningly authentic Amazonian cannibals. Yesterday.

The “cannibals” (who seem more interested in playing tug-of-war with her raw intestines than actually eating them… understandably enough) overact shamelessly, grinning like loons as they brandish fistfuls of guts at the camera. I get that these extras are no more trained actors than they are genuine South American natives, but couldn’t their pantomime excesses have been a bit more skillfully edited? Apparently not. Further ineptitude in this department ensures plenty of shots of people standing around waiting for cues and gawping aimlessly into space. The magic of the movies, eh?

Despite the loss of their guide the kidnappers make it to the jungle safe-house, and no sooner has their host gone away on a business trip than one of these desperadoes ties his wife to a tree and rapes her (a feat he accomplishes without dropping or even unzipping his trousers). When hubby gets home he takes his guests on a hunting trip, ties the rapist to the very tree against which he had performed this violation and gives a sharp whistle, which is apparently the cannibal equivalent of a dinner gong. The rapist is eaten and his partners in crime tied to poles and carried off to the native village, where they are given the Cannibal Holocaust treatment while the kidnapped kid is led off to play in a cannibal kintergarten. By the time the parents arrive, acting on a hot tip-off, there’s not much left of the ’nappers. “The gangsters got all the punishment they deserved”, the tribal chief assures them, indicating what is supposed to be the severed head of the baddy-in-chief, blinking visibly as he pokes his head through a bit of scenery. “He got all the pain and suffering that was coming to him.” So did anyone who’s ever sat through Cannibal Terror…

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In possible mitigation, those bemused by the absence of any actual cannibalism in Climati’s Green Inferno will find buckets of palpably phony gore here. Cannibal Terror is similarly devoid of violence against animals, though…  at least on-screen (all those innards had to come from somewhere, I guess). Since his days as one of the DPP’s least favourite directors, “Allan W. Steeve” has been outed as an unholy combination of Alain Deruelle and Julio Pérez Tabernero… Jess Franco’s alleged participation in the project has now been ruled out, though apparently Franco acolyte Olivier Mathot (who also appears in the picture as “Monsieur Danville”) directed certain scenes. Sabrina Siani contributes her characteristic combination of significant eye candy and infinitesimal acting talent.

Perhaps we’ll discover some redemptive element in this disc’s bonus materials? Well, aside from a trailer and deleted “erotic” dancing scene with which you might already be regretfully familiar from Severin’s earlier edition of Cannibal Terror, there’s Naomi Holwill’s documentary That’s Not The Amazon! – The Strange Story of the Eurocine Cannibal Film Cycle, in which assembled pundits Allan Bryce, Mikel Koven, John Martin and Calum Waddell (plus cast member Antonio Mayans, who admits it wasn’t always easy to remember which film he was supposed to be acting in at any given moment) attempt to elicit a few laughs from the amateurish anthropophagic efforts that the Lasoeur family were churning out in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Martin summarises the guiding principles of Eurociné’s cannibal dabblings thus: “If you’ve got a bucket of offal and you can stuff it up somebody’s jumper then pull it out again and if you can film in a park somewhere and pretend it’s the Amazon basin, then you’ve got yourself a movie”, further characterising these films as “shoddily executed”… and who am I to contradict the sartorially splendid but increasingly gnarled looking doyen of dodgy film criticism?

As time marches on, those who haven’t seen Cannibal Terror and many of its DPP list-mates might be unclear about exactly what is was that our moral guardians had in their cross hairs during the early ’80s when they predicted the imminent collapse of Civilisation. If that’s you, prepare to be gob smacked!

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Bringing Up Baby… ABSURD, ANTHROPOPHAGOUS Antics On Severin BD.

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Joe D’Amato’s Anthropophagous Beast (1980) and Absurd (1981).

BD. Severin. Region Free. Unrated.

“Respectable” journalists and media outlets seem to spend most of their time, these days, angsting about “fake news” and its potentially pernicious effects on gullible schmoes like you… which is pretty ripe considering the constant stream of bullshit these jokers have themselves been pumping out at us over so many years. UK readers of a certain age might well recall tuning into News At Ten during the early 1980s only to find themselves being leered at by Luigi Montefiori as he stuffed his hand up a pregnant lady’s skirt, pulled out a skinned rabbit and started chowing down on it. This, we were earnestly informed by the stern-faced newsreader, was “a scene from a snuff movie”! Get a fucking brain, pal…

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“Video  Nasties” hysteria has, fortunately, abated to the point where that alleged foetus-eating feast, Joe D’Amato’s Anthropophagous Beast (1980), is (alongside most of the other “nasties” on the DPP’s dreaded list) readily available and uncut on the shelves of legitimate retail outlets over the full length and breadth of these sceptred isles. 88 Films released it here on Blu-ray in 2015, rapidly followed by a “remastered special edition” boasting a previously deleted scene. Unwilling to splash out more of the readies to witness what might, for all I know, amount to no more than six seconds of Mr Montefiori walking across a beach, gurning, I’m unfamiliar with that edition.

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What I am clutching in my sweaty little hands though is a Severin box set comprising their releases of Anthropophagous and its sort of sequel, the following year’s Absurd. The original film, as you’re probably already only too well aware, alternates passages of unrelenting tedium (as an ill-matched party of tourists wander around the Greek islands waiting for something to happen… then wish it hadn’t) with sporadic outbursts of ultra-violent, inventively gory action every time our heroes (Tisa Farrow, Saverio Vallone, “Vanessa Steiger” / Serena Grandi, et al) cross paths with hulking cannibal Klaus Wortmann (or Nikos Karamanlis, depending on which print you’re watching), who got the taste for human flesh after several days adrift on an open boat obliged him to eat his wife and child. Less, er, visionary Horror directors than D’Amato would have contented themselves with that, the foetus eating and a rather grisly scalping, but Joe could always be relied on to go that extra exploitive mile and Mr Beast tops all of it (and arguably anything else in the truly wild annals of Italian splatter cinema) at the climax of this picture… disembowelled with a pick-axe, he pulls out yards of his unravelling intestines and (still gurning madly) starts stuffing his face with them.

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Severin have commemorated this unforgettable (try as you might) movie milestone in the plush doll pictured above and a host of other man-eating merch available on their website.

While much of Marcello Giombini’s synth OST still sounds (appropriately enough, perhaps) like an acute attack of IBS, Severin’s 2k scan from the original 16mm negative will come as a revelation to anyone who’s heard about Uncle Joe’s reputation as a DP but suffered previous VHD and DVD editions. Don’t get me wrong (we’re not talking Days Of fucking Heaven, here) but relative to those, the cinematography (officially credited to Enrico Biribicchi, which might or might not be yet another D’Amato alias) is pretty good.

A predictable profusion of bonus interviews are chock full of hot gossip from the inner circle of pasta splateratti. Monterfiori rates Anthropophagous as”shit” and who’s going to argue with the big guy? In fact he rewrote the script only on condition that he wouldn’t be “credited” for having done so and attributes the film’s cult success to the fact that “there are a lot of weirdos out there” (guilty as charged, eh readers?)

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Everybody agrees that working on a D’Amato set was always a laugh riot (FX man Pietro Tenoglio recalls a lot of bantering back and forth during the scene that freaked out our man at News At Ten) and nobody has a bad word to say about Tisa Farrow. Zora Kerova (looking fab, despite her countless cinematic tribulations) disputes the oft-repeated story about Farrow having one eye and gives us the lowdown on who was romancing whom. Several interviewees comment on the emergence of Margaret Mazzantini as one of Italy’s leading literary figures… who could have extrapolated that from her show stopping turn in Anthropophagous (above), jumping out of a barrel clutching a big knife, arm pit hair akimbo?!? Editor Bruno Micheli recalls how the cutting of  D’Amato’s films devolved to him because his sister jumped ship when Joe started steering a porno course and Saverio Vallone finally gets the credit he deserves for skewering Montefiori’s duodenum on that pick axe.

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Whatever guts Montefiori’s character still packed after Anthrophophagous are unpacked on a spiky railing at the commencement of the aptly named Absurd, when he’s attempting to evade Edmund Purdom’s obsessive priest (“I serve God with biochemistry rather than ritual”). Needless to say, this doesn’t cramp his style re menacing a houseload of children (Katya and Kasimir Berger… yes, they’re William Berger’s kids) and their baby sitter (Annie Belle). John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) seems as salient an antecedent here as Anthropophagous and Montefiori’s monstrous dude (boasting a much clearer complexion last time out) doesn’t actually eat anybody (he even resists the urge to consume his own intestines when they put in their inevitable appearance) though he does hang Michele Soavi’s juvenile delinquent upside down from a tree, bake Ms Belle’s bonce in an oven and penetrate the heads of various other dudes with axes, black’n’deckers and bandsaws. This predisposition towards the ol’ ultraviolence is on account of a genetic mutation (a scientifically induced one, the script darkly hints) that also, as (bad) luck would have it, renders him virtually indestructible. Katya Berger, who spends most of the film screwed to some fiendish orthopedic device, ultimately rises from it (begging certain obvious questions that D’Amato clearly couldn’t be arsed to answer) and proves beyond any shadow of a doubt that when it comes to challenging the alleged indestructibility of hulking home invaders, eye pokings and decapitation trump biochemistry every time!

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Extras on the Absurd disc include the alternative Italian cut (as Rosso Sangue), with optional English subtitles and a trailer. You’ve possibly also seen the interviews with Michel Soavi and Joe D’Amato on other releases. In the latter, the genial director explains yet again (possibly for the benefit of News At 10 journalists) that he never actually killed anyone in any of his films, i.e. that there are these things called “special effects” (even if they’re not always all that special). Montefiori talks some more about his working relationship and friendship with D’Amato and of his often anonymous work as a script doctor (well, despite his best efforts, the scripts often died on their ass!) Evaluating the development of his Klaus over the two films, he sagely offers: “My character doesn’t have any lines… he just rasps and whines!” Indeed.

My copy came with the limited edition accompanying soundtrack CD but there was no sign of the T-shirt. Still, bloggers can’t be choosers… and anyway, I could never carry it off as jauntily as Darrell Buxton does.

With this / these release/s the Severin boys strike another retrospective blow against the “nasty” witch hunters who contrived to spoil their fun in the 1980s… and you’ve gotta love ’em for it!

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“Bong!”

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“Here’s A Bit Of A Scoop For You…” The ALDO LADO (Micro)Interview

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Calum Waddell’s presence at Manchester’s 29th Festival Of Fantastic Films (introducing and conducting stage interviews with some of its star guests) afforded us the opportunity to hook up and shoot some stuff that will hopefully be appearing in featurettes for several releases you might be enjoying in the near future. During my flying visit on Saturday 27th October it was a pleasure to catch up with some old (and getting older) mates, say hi to Luigi Cozzi and finally meet Aldo Lado, who has directed some of the darkest, most troubling and subversive entries in the Italian B-movie tradition. Thanks are due to Gil Lane Young for graciously allowing me to attend the director’s Q&A session, during which we managed the following brief exchange…

Signor Lado, is it true or just a rumour that you made an unacknowledged contribution to the writing of Argento’s The Bird With The Crystal Plumage?

I haven’t said much about this for the last forty years but now I feel like talking about it, so here’s a bit of a scoop for you… I was working as AD on a film produced by Dario’s father, Salvatore. Dario talked to me about ideas he was considering for his first film. He gave me the book he wanted to adapt and asked me what I thought of it.

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After I read it I told him that frankly I didn’t think very much of it but that there was something in there which would translate very well into a film, i.e the idea of the killings being seen from the killer’s point of view. So we worked together on a treatment of the film, until I was called away to assist on a Western in Spain (Presumably Sergio Bergonzelli’s Colt In The Hand Of The Devil – BF.) When I came back, he was making The Bird With The Crystal Plumage, featuring all these POV shots that would become “his trademark” and it was being presented as something that he had dreamed up all by himself, with no mention of me whatsoever. Dario built a very successful career on the back of that film and if he’d acknowledged me, it would have opened a lot of doors for me, too. So now I regard him as my sworn enemy, because why would you treat somebody like that unless they were your enemy?

(SPOILER ALERT!!!) At the climax of your brilliant giallo Who Saw Her Die (1972) it’s revealed that the child killer is a priest but the film ends with a hastily dubbed line, right out of the blue, to the effect that he wasn’t a real priest, just somebody who dressed like one… was this ending imposed on you by the censors?

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Yes. You have to realise what a Catholic country Italy was in those days and how much power was wielded by the Church. The producers told me either we insert this false ending or the film will not be distributed, it was as simple as that. If you know me, you’ll have no doubt whatsoever what my attitude towards this was. I’ve been saying for decades that one day the truth will come out about all this sexual abuse in the Church and look where we are today…

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At the start of your career you were part of the circle around such heavyweight Arthouse directors as Pasolini and Bertolucci (whom you assisted on The Conformist, 1970)… is it fair to say that with your films you’ve carried on their tradition of social comment and criticism but in the idiom of a more popular / commercial Cinema?

Yes, I was part of that circle. All of those directors had important things to say about our society and I had things I wanted to say, too. One of them was inspired by something I read, when I was about 12 or 13, in a book by a Czech author… I forget his name. He said that everybody is actually two people… the person they present to society and their other, more authentic self.

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So in a lot of my films you see these people who are outwardly respectable but that’s not the whole story. People are judged by their outward appearance so we see that rich people and poor people who commit very similar crimes are treated very differently.

I wonder if you can tell us something about the film you made that was based on the notorious case of Japan’s “celebrity cannibal”, Issei Sagawa…

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Was that one of mine? Oh yes, Ritual Of Love (1989) was loosely based on that case. To me, it’s a love story. You know that in Italy, when people express their love for their grandchildren, they often say things like: “You’re so sweet, I could eat you up!” Well, this is a story about a man who is so much in love with a woman that he wants to eat her… and she is so in love with him that she wants to be eaten by him! I’m putting together a book in which I expand upon the ideas of this film and other films I have made, also films that I will never get to make. I think that you would find it very interesting… 

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… I think so, too. Again, I’d like to express my sincere thanks to Gil and all the folks from Manchester’s ever-fabulous Festival Of Fantastic Films, for letting me in… to Calum Waddell and Naomi Holwill, whose Lado documentary I’m eagerly anticipating… and to Nick Frame, for stalwart translation services. It was good to see so many friends. 

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Aldo Lado + High Rising team = essential doc in the making.

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Nature, Pink In Tooth And Claw? CANNIBAL FEROX On Shameless Blu-Ray

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Yes Johnny, he gets off on ecology,

BD. Region B. Shameless. 18.

In the unlikely event that there’s anyone out there who’s unfamiliar with the “plot” of Umberto Lenzi’s Cannibal Ferox (1981)… Lorraine De Selle, Zora Kerova and some bloke head into deepest Colombia in search of  evidence to support De Selle’s  academic thesis that Third World cannibalism is “bat shit”… i.e. fake news, disseminated to further the agenda of wicked western corporations and ideologically unsound imperialists. The following hour and a half establishes pretty conclusively just how wrong she was on this score, but the film ends – SPOILER ALERT! – with her safely back in the Groves of Academe, presenting her thesis as proven, having decided that the locals were driven to avenge themselves on “Naughty Mike” (as Giovanni Lombardo Radice refers to his character), who came to the Amazon basin on his own search for emeralds and cocaine and, having overindulged in the latter, tortured and killed the natives in an effort to find those elusive gems.

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The most notorious Gino De Rossi special effect in this former “video nasty” reminds me of a very non-PC joke about two hippy chicks… though I couldn’t possibly repeat it in polite company. Women being strung up by hooks through their breasts… a native having his eye prised out with a knife… sexualised violence… a woman being kicked in the head… disembowelment… cannibalism… the machete amputation of John Morghen’s penis (then hand) and the slicing open of his skull so that natives can feast on his coke-crazed brain… all of this was removed from Replay’s “soft” VHS version, to which the BBFC awarded an unofficial ’18’ certificate in September 1982 (which proved to be a pretty pointless exercise for all concerned, as both versions subsequently ended up on the dreaded “nasties” list). The BBFC take a relatively relaxed view of such simulated splatter shenanigans these days but there is, of course, another outstanding issue with Ferox and its cannibal kin…

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Animal wise, the “soft” version forfeited such Mondoesque moments as the dismemberment of a live turtle, snakes eating and attacking coatis and lizards, a monkey falling foul of a hungry jaguar, natives gutting and eating a crocodile and most of the scene in which Morghen’s character, a propos of nothing in particular, stabs a small pig to death. “Do you get off on ecology, huh, twat?” he asks Lorraine De Selle when she censures him for this gratuitous act of butchery. Well yes, she did… and as we have seen, the BBFC entertain serious reservations about such conduct, too. By 2001 the Board were certifying all manner of ex-“nasties” and other betes noirs of the departed James Ferman’s tenure, but before Vipco got the nod for a VHS / DVD release they were required to make an additional excision to the animal violence, i.e. “six seconds of a tethered small animal banging against the side of a jeep”.

The BBFC are legally obliged to take account of The Cinematograph (animals) Act of 1937 and the Animal Welfare Act (2006) but in the intervening years there’s been serious disquiet about the content of Italian cannibal films, even among hardened gore hounds and much dispute on social media forums about ethical vs authentic versions of them.

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Make them die within the provisions of the Cinematograph (animals) Act of 1937…

And so, following in the wake of such recent Shameless releases as Ruggero Deodato’s “preferred” version of Cannibal Holocaust and what Sergio Martino describes as an “improved” Mountain (formerly Prisoner) Of The Cannibal God, here comes Cannibal Ferox redux. While Deodato and Martino seem to entertain genuine misgivings about some of the things they’d gotten up to half a lifetime previously in South East Asia and up The Amazon, you suspect Lenzi didn’t really give a monkey’s cranium for animal rights, happily agreeing to anything that would squeeze a few more dollars out of a film that, it’s common knowledge, he despised.

So, what’s in and what’s out? Natives chewing on butterflies and live larvae are here, because the relevant legislation only applies to vertebrates. Ditto the skewering and stamping on of spiders. Because “quick clean kills” are not legally prohibited, you get the decapitation of a turtle that the natives are preparing for supper and the BBFC have deemed the thrashing around of what’s left of the unfortunate critter to be “a post mortem nervous reaction, akin to a headless chicken running around a farmyard”… and equally revolting. There still seem to be shots of that “tethered small animal banging against the side of a jeep” and although the subsequent scene of said Coati being attacked by a large snake has been re-cut to eliminate the actual kill (remaining footage runs in slo-mo to maintain the film’s 93 minute running time) you still see its desperate attempts to avoid capture, which is pretty distressing stuff. There are further abridgements to a jaguar killing and dragging a monkey off into the foliage, natives gutting a small crocodile and the notorious pig stabbing scene in which Signor Radice / Morghen refused to participate. A clumsily contrived and totally gratuitous snake / lizard fight-to-the-death has completely gone, the narrative proceeding at this point straight to Johnny’s big seduction scene (“I had you nailed down the minute I saw you…”, etc) with Zora Kerova.

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So there you have it. A Cannibal Ferox that’s sufficiently compliant with the law to piss off completists but is still unlikely to persuade Morrissey to trade in his A Taste Of Honey DVD to get a copy…. this might prove to be one of Shameless’s most divisive releases yet.

Extras-wise, Lenzi and a heavily bearded Lombardo Radice continue their war of words from beyond the grave… Lenzi’s, anyway (his interview here is possibly the last one he ever recorded). A comparison feature shows how much better the 2K scan of Ferox’s 16mm negative looked after colour correction. The results are pretty grainy but Shameless argue, with some justification, that this is better looking and more authentic than certain other releases, with their “blingy shimmer” of Digital Noise Reduction. Whatever, if you pre-order this one (and there’s still time to do so as I post this) you get a barf bag into the bargain, all the better to turn you lounge into a 42nd Street grind house for an hour-and-a-half… but no monkey spanking, OK?

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“What cannibalism?”

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Jeepers, Creepers… ALL EYES ON LENZI – THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE ITALIAN EXPLOITATION TITAN Reviewed

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All Eyes On Lenzi – The Life And Times Of The Italian Exploitation Titan (2018). Directed and produced by Calum Waddell. Produced and edited by Naomi Holwill.

Despite having one of Hollywood’s hottest hot shots (you know who I mean) as the unofficial President of his fan club, the recently deceased Umberto Lenzi remains an underrated director among aficianados of the various genres in which he worked. I’m as guilty as anyone in this regard… in one of my earliest published pieces I praised Lenzi’s cannibal movies (he wouldn’t have thanked me for that… indeed, he subsequently slammed the phone down on one attempt I made to talk to him about those films) while dismissing his gialli out of hand. Well, the statute of limitations must be up on this so I might as well confess that in those days I still hadn’t seen several of the latter…

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I subsequently caught up with and have recently been re-watching Lenzi’s thrillers starring Carroll Baker, in the service of a feature that I’m writing about the evolution of the giallo, so you’d think I wouldn’t make that mistake again. As recently as my review of Arrow’s Your Vice Is A Locked Room And Only I Have The Key, though, I refer to a notional “big four” of giallo directors (Bava, Argento, Fulci and Martino) which really should have been expanded to a “big five” to include Lenzi. Sure, his brand of steamy. scheming, bonkbusting gialli gave way to the Bird With The Crystal Plumage model and his later attempts to render films in the Argento style are not wholly convincing, but to deny Lenzi his proper place in the Hall Of Fame does a significant disservice both to him and to giallo history… over and above which, we must consider the impact of his cannibal epics on polite society and the enormity of his contributions to the poliziotteschi scene.

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Perhaps my brief contributions to Calum Waddell’s timely All Eyes On Lenzi feature-length documentary will go some way towards atoning for my previous critical lacunae. There are plenty of other pundits lining up in it to demand that Lenzi be paid his due respect, including Milanese fan publishing notable Manlio  Gomarasca, the University of Worcester’s own Mikel Koven (who enthuses about the thespian sparks ignited between Tomas Milian and Maurizio Merli, among other things), film-maker Scooter McCrae and one of my favourite up-and-coming writers, Rachael Nisbet (is that your disc collection behind you, Rachael? Jeez, I wish mine was as neatly displayed as that…)

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Principle among those boosting Lenzi’s credentials, of course, is Lenzi himself, in one of the last interviews he ever gave (and in which he gives particularly good value for money on the subject of setting up the action scenes in his crime-slime classics, also keeping an admirably straight face as he expands upon the serious ecological message behind Nightmare City). Giovanni Lombardo Radice offers a dissenting view while his Cannibal Ferox co-star Danilo Mattei (who can also be seen lurking inside a bear skin in Lenzi’s The Iron Master) contributes a more  phlegmatic take on the moody director’s foibles.

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The Iron Master… Nightmare City… Eyeball… all these slices of delirious cinematic trash are enthusiastically endorsed as evidence that Lenzi could still deliver entertaining fare, even when the budgets got a bit rubbish. AEOL doesn’t shy away from the fact that when the budgets got really rubbish, Lenzi was as capable of delivering a sack of shit as anyone (Black Demons… The Hell’s Gate… I’m looking at you) but hey, that never queered anyone’s admiration for Lucio Fulci, and rightly so. Nisbet offers the ironic observation that even Lenzi’s fag-end failures have a fan following of their own among millennials (bloody millennials… who can figure those guys out, huh?)

Another winner from our pals at High Rising Productions, All Eyes On Lenzi will apparently be included in an all-singing / dancing deluxe metal box edition of Eyeball from 88 Films… keep ’em peeled for that one, schlock-pickers!

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06/08/31 – 19/10/17. R.I.P.

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“Black Magic From Deep Space”… XTRO Reviewed

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BD. Region Free. Second Sight. 15. 

Not all Extra Terrestrials were as friendly as E.T. … nor were any of them remotely as financially successful. Back in 1982, Stephen Spielberg’s touchy-feely encounter of the mawkish kind wiped the box office floor with such superior downbeat contenders as Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner and John Carpenter’s The Thing, so what chance did a low-budget, Anglo-American Alien wannabe directed (and scored) by the obscure Harry Bromley Davenport (whose only previous feature was Whispers Of Fear from 1976) stand?

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Precious little, probably, when its own director dismisses “the dreaded Xtro” (his own words) as “an extraordinary mess”.  Cooked up between HBD, producer Mark Forstater and New Line honcho Bob Shaye as some kind of UK answer to the surreal non sequitur horrors of Don Coscarelli’s Phantasm (1979), hyped on its eventual release as the dark mirror image of Spielberg’s box office champ (with heavy Alien overtones), Xtro is indeed a mess, albeit a very, very enjoyable one. Davenport has also described his little opus as “pointless… completely ludicrous… rubbish…. awful and reprehensible” but I’d characterise it rather as a Poundland restaging of The Man Who Fell To Earth (1976)… and I mean that as a compliment! In fact if I may be so bold, Xtro’s queasy quasi-Oedipal undercurrents and sci-fi slant on dysfunctional family life ultimately place it considerably closer to Andrzej Zulawski’s Possession (1981) than Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959).

The film’s opening sequence  goes right back to the source of all that touchy-feely alien hugging nonsense, Kubrick’s 2001 (1968) and reinvents its famous “flying-bone-into-spacecraft” segue for the abduction of protagonist Sam (Phil Sayer), whose subsequent return to Earth kicks off a series of highly improbable and improbably grisly events (“The idea was to do the most disgusting things that we could possibly get away with… we just wanted to shock people” admits Harry somewhere during the supplementary materials). Having boned up on alien obstetrics according to Ridley Scott, HBD presents us with the rape of “woman in cottage” (the ever lovely Susie Silvey) by slithery, sub-Gigeresque genitalia after which, in a wince inducing scene, she gives birth to a full-grown Sam.

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His wife Rachel (Bernice Stegers) has very mixed feelings about Sam’s reappearance, as during his absence she has set up home with photographer Joe (Danny Brainin). Scrumptious au pair Analise (Maryam D’Abo) is also sceptical, but at least Sam’s son Tony (Simon Nash) is glad to have him back. Sam cements Tony’s loyalty by passing on some alien powers (in another icky scene that involves neck-sucking and Cronenbergesque bladder eruptions) and soon the lad is bringing his toy clown and action man to life, to kill the interfering old biddy from downstairs (Anna Wing, who must have been particularly grateful when East Enders came along) and conniving in the transformation of Analise into a mummified alien egg breeder. Apropos of nothing (aside from Shaye’s insistence), a black panther prowls the house at random moments…

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Finally, after various other folks have been messily dispatched, Sam reverts to a monstrous metallic insect man and whisks Tony off in his space ship for a new life, God knows where.

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Davenport, as he freely admits, was blessed with a fine cast who never so much as hint in their performances that they consider this outré material beneath them. Admittedly Maryam D’Abo, for whom Xtro represents her feature debut and who suffers from a bit of a wobbly accent, later wrote it out of her filmography. Indeed, on becoming a Bond girl (The Living Daylights, 1987) she declared to the press that she had never done and would never do full frontal nude scenes. Xtro provides conclusive and rather delicious evidence to the contrary.

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Phil Sayer (now the late Phil Sayer, sadly) generates genuine pathos in his role as the dislocated dad. Bernice Stegers, whose CV also boasts Fellini’s City Of Women and her husband’s Four Weddings And A Funeral, brings credence and therefore credibility to anything in which she appears, witness her compelling turn in Lamberto Bava’s magnificently overwrought 1980 effort Macabro (below) and here. Regrettably, on the night when Mrs F and I once found ourselves sitting at the next table to Stegers in the now defunct Old Orleans restaurant on the bridge in York, my better half dissuaded me from approaching her on the grounds that I’d spoil the poor woman’s dinner if I reminded her of “all the terrible films she’s been in”. Speaking of spoiled dinners, I later threw up my chowder… bit of a washout all round, that evening was. It’s especially galling to learn from Stegers’ appearances in the bonus materials on this set that she’s rather tickled when people engage her in conversation about Xtro…

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“… just don’t ask me about that bloody Macabro thing!”

Once liable for confiscation under Section 3 of The Obscene Publications Act back in those dark draconian days of the early ’80s, Xtro’s BD debut comes with a ’15’ certificate and laden with extras, mostly courtesy of them Nucleus boys, that are almost as entertaining as the feature itself. “There was this awful period of the ‘video nasties’…” reflects Davenport in the archive feature Xtro Exposed: “ … an awful British phrase, it has a lot English pettiness about it”. Too true, Harry… though the twitchy director can’t resist enthusing about the news report on a psycho killer which featured close-ups of Xtro prominently displayed in his voluminous  video collection (“You can’t do better than that, really… sales went through the roof!”)

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In the more up-to-date Xploring Xtro, Jake and Mark have assembled most of the surviving participants and various interested parties, including Tik & Tok, reminiscing about their robotic and alien contortions and Robert Pereno reprising his immortal “Stay in the car”! line. Maryam D’Abo continues to maintain her distance from the project and although I know Jake and Marc tried hard to identify the current whereabouts of Simon Nash, their efforts ultimately proved unsuccessful. In his absence, other participants comment cattily on his crap acting and how much weight he put on during the shoot (more on that later).

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In The World Of Xtro we are introduced to Mr Dennis “Xtro” Atherton (just for a second there I thought we were going to get Andrew “Xtro” Featherstone), an über-obsessive fan of the film who views it as a Bergmanesque family drama with added space aliens and has more cock-eyed theories about it than any of the Shining devotees showcased in Rodney Ascher’s Room 327 could ever muster regarding Kubrick’s film. My favourite among Dennis’s many obsessive observations is the one concerning the magical confluence of Xtro’s length (83 minutes) and year of release (1983)… actually it was released in 1982 and seems to last 84 minutes, but I can’t bring myself to hold this against the likeable Mr Xtro Atherton.

What’s at the root of this singular obsession? Our man reveals that D’Abo’s nude scenes made a big impression on him as a pubertal youth… I bet they did, in fact they remain in my all time top three of female nude scenes in mainstream movies (Elizabeth McGovern in Ragtime, 1981 and Annette O’Toole in Cat People, 1982… thanks for asking). Wonder how good Maryam, who must be nearly 60 now, looks nekkid these days… way better than I do (below), no doubt.

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Xtro’s two existing (semi) sequels are glossed over, but the really big news is that HBD and Mark Forstater are reuniting for Xtro – The Big One (I kid you not), wherein a fourth Xtro incursion will coincide with a massive LA earthquake. We get to see some CGI-heavy test footage from that. There’s also a video tribute to Phil Sayer (incorporating the song Brian May wrote about him)…

… and of course the disc contains four (count ’em) different versions of the original feature, including two distinct endings, the British video release and Harry’s 2018 re-polish which, he freely admits, might have made the film look worse rather than improved it in any way. In fact the high contrast look of Xtro redux gives it more of  a comic book look than anything else, which I guess is quite appropriate for its subject matter. Intriguingly, Harry has also digitally thinned out the face of the much maligned Simon Nash but regrettably, we never get to hear Dennis Atherton’s pronouncements on the profound significance of this particular tweaking.

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This Property Is Condemned. THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT Reviewed.

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BD/CD. Region B. Arrow. 18.

… and the road leads to Blu-ray.

You millennials make me laugh. You don’t know you’re bloody born! When I were a lad, we used to dream about 3 disc limited blu-ray editions of Last House On The Left, containing three cuts of Wes Craven’s ground-breaking, taboo-busting rape / revenge drama, each restored in 2K from the original film elements… plus a pigeon shed-load of extras… after a 15 hour shift at ‘mill, there was no bonus soundtrack CD waiting for us  when we got back to our hovel… no collector’s postcards, double-sided fold-out poster, reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork… and certainly no hoity-toity limited edition, 60-page perfect-bound book featuring new writing on the film by Stephen bloody Thrower. We considered ourselves lucky if someone in ‘village had managed to get their hands on the Replay VHS release… failing that, we’d have to make do with some nth generation bootleg video dub… if we were lucky!

Hang on, if you are a millennial, you probably won’t get the Monty Python gag, either. So enough of that…

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My point, less nerdishly expressed, still holds good. For a long time, in recent memory, any uncut UK edition or cinema screening of Last House On The Left remained a pipe-dream. A particular bete noir for BBFC honcho James Ferman, the film’s defiantly difficult romp through the minefield of “sexualised violence” made it a hotter censorship potato than The Exorcist, Texas Chainsaw Massacre or (perhaps the most pertinent comparitor) Straw Dogs, permanent fixtures on Ferman’s (s)hit list that attained certification shortly after his demise. The film’s ongoing unavailability on these sceptered isles wasn’t for the want of trying on the part of HOF Hall of Famers David Gregory and Carl Daft, who doggedly pursued the BBFC through every available avenue of appeal during their time at Anchor Bay and Blue Underground. Ironically it was Second Sight who finally secured an uncut edition in 2008, rapidly followed by a Metrodome triple disc set that unearthed further forbidden footage from the archives, while Daft and Gregory  were otherwise occupied with their Severin label. By that time a glossy big(ger) budgeted remake was in the works and multiplex screens and retail shelves were awash with slick torture porn franchises…

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As confirmed by its debut on UK Blu-ray, Last House On The Left remains a more gruelling, challenging and emotionally sapping experience than all of those put together, on account of its moral complexity (scuzzball sex offenders who display remorse for their reprehensible actions and elicit a measure of pity from the viewer… middle class parents whose liberal stance collapses into ruthless retribution) and the sheer naivety of its sophomore film makers Wes Craven and Sean Cunningham (c.f. notable early efforts by e.g. Tobe Hooper and Sam Raimi) and unknown cast, which translates into documentary-style raw intensity on the screen, focussing on one unspeakable episode and its aftermath in unflinching detail.

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If you think Last House On The Left has no relevance outside its original context of Vietnam protest era America, just tune in to any news bulletin or pick up any newspaper (check the internet, if you can tear yourself away from the latest exploits of the Kardashians), where you’ll find no shortage of stories about an increasingly feral underclass in conflict with the comfortable and complacent devisors of the neo-liberal system that created them. It will also be interesting to see how Craven’s film goes down with consumers of currently voguish Scandi Noir, which draws so much of its inspiration from the same source, Ingmar Bergman’s The Virgin Spring (1960).

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The copious bonus material on this set includes featurettes culled from the Metrodome and MGM US releases, plus several new ones including interviews with Marc (“Junior” / “Junkie”) Scheffler (who looks like he got separated from his smurf sidekicks on the way to the shoot) and Anne Paul (who failed to bag a role but ended up applying make ups in LHOTL, initiating a career that eventually saw her making up Bill Clinton and four successive Secretary Generals of The United Nations!) Michael Gingold conducts one of those ever popular tours of the film’s locations and I was particularly pleased to see the reappearance of David Flint’s Krug Conquers England featurette, documenting the first uncut cinema screening of Last House (over the protests of local worthies) at Leicester’s fearless Phoenix Cinema in 2000, with star David Hess and Gunnar “Leatherface” Hansen in attendance. It’s great to see Gregory and Daft’s heroic efforts on behalf of LHOTL acknowledged in this mini doc, some of the interviews for which were conducted by Yours Truly. Wonderful memories of a truly memorable night.

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Stillo crazy after all those years…

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Snake In The Eagle’s Shadow… MOUNTAIN OF THE CANNIBAL GOD On Shameless Blu-Ray

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BD. Region B. Shameless. 18.

Ever wondered how an old gargoyle like me managed to snag the alluring Mrs F? (Calm down at the back, I said “snag“, OK?) If so (and in the unlikely event that you haven’t got anything better to do), study the UK quad poster, reproduced above, for Sergio Martino’s Prisoner (alternatively Mountain / Slave) Of The Cannibal God intently. When I suggested that the menacing central figure in it resembled nothing so much as “a turd with teeth”, her funny bone was sufficiently tickled for me to be considered a reincarnation of Oscar Wilde and the rest, as they say, is history. But enough autobiographical snatches from me…

… no, hang on, here’s another one. While wooing Mrs F and indeed, for about a quarter of a century in total, I was a vegetarian. During that period, when people would express unease to me about the maltreatment of animals in Italian cannibal films, I would respond along the snooty lines of: “Do you eat meat? You don’t need to, so what’s the difference?” About a decade ago, on medical grounds, I regretfully reverted to an omnivorous diet, decided that there was, indeed, a difference and began to seriously question some of the content of these films. By the same token, friends who remain committed to vegetarianism have protested the recent trend of releasing them in versions cut to eradicate or reduce scenes of cruelty to animals. It’s complicated…

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Having already released a BD edition of Ruggero Deodato’s epochal Cannibal Holocaust (1980) in a marginally more animal friendly variant now endorsed by Deodato as his “preferred version”, Shameless now bring us a Mountain Of The Cannibal God which “softens” its animal cruelty and which director Sergio Martino (in his on-screen intro) declares an “improved version” for a new generation of viewers, although once again it’s not exactly going to find favour with card-carrying PETA supporters.

M/S/POTCG (set in Papua New Guinea but actually filmed in Sri Lanka and Malaysia during 1978) is a ripping yarn of derring do that kicked off an action adventure trilogy which Martino completed the following year with The Great Alligator (below, also filmed in Sri Lanka) and Island Of The Fishmen (filmed in some park in Sardinia).

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Ursula Andress and Antonio Marsina hire Stacey Keach to help them find Ursula’s old man, an explorer missing in action among the natives. Stacy’s got a personal stake in the adventure and a burning ambition to wipe out the Puka tribe, who forced him to eat human flesh when he was briefly incarcerated by them. The gang encounter all the expected jungle perils and hook up with Claudio Cassinelli en route to the eponymous mountain, where they find the suppurating corpse of Mr Andress (looking like a refugee from the opening shots of Texas Chainsaw Massacre) being worshipped by the locals en account of the bleeping Geiger counter stuck in his chest, which they take for his heart… yeah, whatever. Turns out Andress and Marsina were after the local uranium all along.

While fitting nicely into the Rider Haggard / Jukes Verne terrain of Alligator / Fishmen, M/S/POTCG also reels off the expected cannibal film tropes with alacrity… y’know, “Who are the real savages?”… white woman worshipped (Andress decked out in a fetching Albanese goddess outfit in which she still cuts an impressive figure, 13 years on from Hammer’s She) by impressionable (and, it is strongly implied, inferior) natives… cannibalism (duh!) and – most contentiously – violence against animals…

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The pre-cut film was only certificated ‘X’ by the BBFC for a theatrical release (under the “Prisoner” title) in 1978 after the excision of two episodes of crocodile-on-turtle violence, a bit of snake vs eagle unpleasantness and the infamous scene in which another snake suffocates and consumes a terrified monkey, comprising 126 seconds. This version was identical to the one released by Hokushin on home video three years later, which “enjoyed” a place on the DPP’s official list of “video nasties” from November 1983 to May ’85. After that unfortunate spasm of witch-hunting had run its course, M/S/POTCG  became one of a slew of “contentious” titles that were certificated for VHS (in its dying days) and DVD after further cuts, in this case 126 seconds from the Vipco release (“Cuts required to sight of animal cruelty, including animals being goaded to fight each other”). 2008 and 2013 releases, by Orbit and Cornerstone respectively, were identical in duration and contents.

Shameless have restored scenes of sex and violence never previously seen in an official UK release of this film, including a female Puka frigging herself off, a dude getting castrated and the ludicrous sight of another guy pretending to bum a pig, which seems blithely oblivious to his amorous efforts. Such footage would fall foul of “extreme porn” legislation if rendered “explicitly / realistically” but fortunately that particular statute doesn’t include “laughably”. Apparently the restoration materials were sourced from Martino’s personal archive. Although the BBFC were prepared to wear all this stuff, 121 seconds of compulsory cuts were “required to remove six sequences of animal cruelty in accordance with BBFC Guidelines and policy”.

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Even so, the film still contains the knife impalement of a tarantula, immediately  followed by the gutting of a lizard (its innards promptly scarfed down by natives)… a monitor lizard is seen honking up the messy remains of a snake it recently consumed… a live crab is roasted over the fire (to the obvious enjoyment of Marsina’s character)… and the memorably revolting underground snake-scoffing fest is present and (politically) incorrect. The working assumption would seem to be that the more mammalian (more sentient?) an animal is, the more likely the BBFC are to take exception to its mistreatment in this kind of film.

Shameless suggest that much of the animal abuse was inserted for Far Eastern markets where such stuff goes down well at the box office, though this hardly absolves Martino from responsibility… nor does the micro-featurette in which he addresses the issue here. Honestly, I love the guy’s movies but this apologia is all over the place, no more convincing than that which he gave on Blue Underground’s previous, totally uncut release. That one also contained a frame-by-frame analysis of the “snake eats monkey” scene that conclusively demonstrates the inadequacy of Martino’s account of it.

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But where do you stop? If non-PC depictions of women and indigenous people were removed from these films, there’d be very little of them left to screen… and what about the unpleasant dwarf who torments Cassinelli before having his midget brains bashed out? Is this an acceptable depiction of a vertically challenged person? Like I said, it’s complicated…

This BD transfer looks rather  marvellous, Giancarlo Ferrando’s shimmering cinematography effectively rendering the heat and humidity of which Martino complains in Riccardo Trombetta’s NoShame “making of” documentary, Cannibal Nightmare: Return To The Mountain Of The Cannibal God, which includes nifty “on location footage” and contributions from Martino and the dynamic duo of DP Ferrando and production designer Massimo Antonello Geleng. You also get a trailer and Italian title / credit sequences.

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Don’t look back on Andress…

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“A Man Turned Inside Out”… Kat Ellinger’s ALL THE COLOURS OF SERGIO MARTINO Reviewed

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Ra ra me! The man and his muse in the early ’70s.

Arrow Books. P/B. 91 Pages. ISBNs 0993306063 / 978-0993306068.

I’ve been after this one for a while and finally got my hands on a PDF version (if, indeed, such a thing is possible) through the good offices of the guys and girls at Fetch Publicity.

Kat Ellinger, a commentator and critic who’s proving almost as prolific as Sergio Martino was in his heyday, has gone through all the available material (including our interview and the director’s autobiography Mille Peccati)

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to come up with an engagingly sure-footed and wide-ranging introduction to his career, even if (as the author herself concedes) the limitations of her word allocation meant that she couldn’t always delve as deeply into it as she might have liked.

Nevertheless, over and above its usefulness as a primer for curious general readers (their interest possibly piqued by the praise levelled at Martino by Messers. Tarantino and Roth), there’s plenty of stuff in here that might come as news even to those who consider themselves well boned-up on the director… e.g that he participated in his family’s home movie version of Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde in 1955 (what wouldn’t I give to see that?) and nearly made a movie with (just imagine!) Bruce Lee.

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Speaking of boned-up, Ellinger devotes plenty of coverage to Martino’s working relationship with Edwige Fenech and also delves further into his innumerable sexy-comedies than is customary in these things, while acknowledging the near impossibility of viewing many of them. Perhaps Arrow, Shameless, Severin and / or 88 Films might look into acquiring some of these titles for UK release? And while they’re at it, what about Martino’s 1993 TV giallo series Delitti Privati / Private Crimes, whose cast reconvenes the Virgin Wife teaming of Fenech and Ray Lovelock and about which the author writes tantalisingly.

I particularly love the quote in which Fenech avers that she sees no significant distinction between a Bergman film and Guido Malatesta’s Samoa, Queen Of The Jungle (1968), one of her earliest starring vehicles… she obviously appeared in enough issues of my beloved Continental Film Review to absorb its editorial policy.

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Ellinger covers Martino’s family background and the sociological / historical context of the various genres he worked in well and in discussing the evolution of the Italian thriller, picks up Michael Mackenzie’s concept of the f-giallo and the m-giallo and takes a run with it. It was also interesting to be reminded of Martino’s comments on how increasing sexual permissiveness and the reaction against it in Italy led him to explicitly and quite self-consciously impose the dreaded “have sex and die” rule in Torso (1973) and to reflect how massively influential that was, five years later, on Halloween (and everything that came after it!)

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Here at The House Of Freudstein we pride ourselves on snappy titles (that of this posting refers to the US mis-marketing of Martino’s Island Of The Fishmen, 1979) and Kat clearly does too, on the evidence of chapter headings like “Trembling Cities, Cops In Action” and “Cannibal Slaves, Cyborgs And Other Exciting Stories”. Things are rounded off nicely with a discography, bibliography and index. An original Gilles Vranckx cover doesn’t hurt, either. One minor grouch… a still from Enzo Milione’s The Sister Of Ursula (1978) seems to have gate-crashed the book, or at least my PDF version of it.

I’d dearly love to see this volume on sale in a few more shops. In the meantime, you can get it here. Hopefully the author will find the opportunity, amid her prolific other outpourings, to expand ATCOSM into the door-stopping tome it deserves to be at some point in the future.

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