In The Mouth of Madness

Insurance investigator John Trent is dragged struggling into a cell within an institution for the hopelessly deranged. Visited by one Dr Wrenn he recounts his story: months ago he was hired to investigate claims made by a book publisher for the disappearance of one of their most prominent writers of terror novels - Sutter Cane. Sniffing a publicity stunt on the eve of the release of one of Cane’s most anticipated books Trent begins scrutinizing the situation more closely. After the meeting with the publishers he picks up a number of Cane’s books to see if there’s anything to fathom from those, however the perpetually sceptical man soon finds himself being drawn into the illusion of Cane’s supernatural domain as he spends the next day or two reading. Realising that the covers of Cane’s books contain a hidden map, presumably offering a clue as to the author’s whereabouts, Trent sets off on a long drive with one of the publishing assistants despite not being aware of precisely where Cane’s possibly fictitious town is. However, after a couple of days of driving and a number of odd encounters on the road they arrive at the place which, as far as any map is concerned, doesn’t exist - Hobb’s End. As strange occurrences begin to increase with frequency it appears to Trent that the possibilities of a publicity stunt were left behind long ago, and in its place is an uncanny nightmare that almost suggests that Cane has created everything that is happening. Or Trent has gone insane.

Amidst Carpenter’s erratic career those consistently familiar with his work often agree that there is a roughly fifty-fifty split between the genre busting classics and the oddly misfiring projects that a seasoned director would be expected to do something a lot better with. Whilst everybody agrees that, for example, The Thing is amazing and that Ghosts of Mars sits at the other end of the extreme (yeah?) there are some that mix opinions, In The Mouth of Madness from 1995 seemingly one of them. Sam Neill and his misjudged American accent together take on the role of John Trent, but I think considering the fact that he’s experienced and generally capable he doesn't pull it off completely convincingly. There’s something that doesn't quite work about him and it’s one of those things that you have to learn to live with if you’re going to be watching this more than once. Julie Carmen (the aristocratic vampire chick from Fright Night Part 2) thankfully tags along as his sidekick for the journey and brightens things up a touch, while other more renowned stars have brief (probably financially dictated) appearances here and there: most notably David Warner as Wrenn and Charlton Heston as the publisher.

The film’s story confronts the idea that gruesome fiction can warp the minds of its followers, or at least that’s what it appears to be confronting although if this is a moral angle of some kind I see it as a slightly hypocritical ideal - preaching the pitfalls of horror on the human mind within a horror vehicle designed to entertain. Aside from this hiccup the movie winds up being one of the best interpretations of H.P. Lovecraft’s worlds of terror that’s not actually based on any specific Lovecraftian work. It sort of welds Stephen King to Lovecraft (the antagonist, Cane, representing the former, the domain he creates representing the latter) with a degree of success. Trent’s largely retrospective story is told from the cell of an insane asylum (a characteristic of many Lovecraft stories) as he recounts how the world outside began to go crazy during the release of Sutter Cane’s latest novel to a blood-hungry public. In flashback he recalls noticing a thriving aggressive madness swelling around him as interest in the book became feverish, his own understanding of reality beginning to break down as he investigated the disappearance of the author - there are shades of Videodrome here (confusion of where the line between fantasy and reality lies resulting from immersing oneself in some form of entertainment). His trip into the fictitious town that may or may not have been created out of the imagination of a man is suitably nightmarish and one of Carpenter’s best realisations of the essence of terror in film. Illustrations of this include the strange geriatric cyclist who’s really a boy that can’t escape Hobb’s End, a sadistic old lady who mutates into a multi-tentacled monster, a psychotic crowd of children, Trent’s repeatedly unsuccessful attempts to escape the homicidal townspeople, etc. As with a number of his other projects, Carpenter was heavily involved with the music and this really announces itself over the lead titles as pounding metal guitar accompanies images of a printing press producing thousands of books that will eventually spread insanity across the globe. Therein lies the apocalyptic thread that flourishes throughout much of the director’s other material - The Thing, Prince of Darkness, Escape From New York… What I ultimately love about this movie is its inherently inexplicable nature, something substantiated by the conclusion - leaving the horrifying without explanation grants it the power to tantalise. It’s possible that Trent investigates the author’s absence and goes mad in the process, but this is only one possibility and, as usual, I enjoy this kind of ambiguity.

Unjustifiably this has never reached the UK on disc. Back in the nineties good old EIV put out a cropped fullscreen tape (which I believe was later followed by a widescreen version). It’s common knowledge that Carpenter prefers shooting in anamorphic Panavision (2.39:1) and his visuals always look unreasonably compromised when dissected in such artistic blasphemy. The US DVD was released years ago by New Line and contained both wide and fullscreen options (allowing the viewer to make comparisons to identify just how butchered a cropped Panavision image is in fullscreen), a trailer and a commentary from director and cinematographer.  Later on a Blu-ray was thankfully let out on to the US shelves, again by New Line - the HD image (only the widescreen option on this disc) is noticeably superior to the previous editions in every respect, and projected on to a large screen looks really cinematic.  Sound is given a boost also with DTS HD MA, while it's appreciated that the commentary has been retained.  I am somewhat doubting there will ever be a truly special edition, but in terms of its excellent transfer, this Blu-ray is the only sensible way to buy and watch In The Mouth of Madness.

UK Blues...

Lots of interesting stuff on its way in the UK, and a surprising amount of it is exclusive to UK Blu-ray at the moment: in October we get another Hammer restoration batch in The Devil Rides Out (with documentary, restoration featurette, one of the old World of Hammer TV episodes, and a commentary with Christopher Lee, Marcus Hearn - who's been penning those beautiful books from Titan - and Sarah Lawson), Rasputin The Mad Monk (with two new documentaries, another TV episode of World of Hammer, and a commentary by Christopher Lee, Barbara Shelley, Francis Matthews and Suzan Farmer), plus The Mummy's Shroud (featuring a couple of new documentaries plus trailers).  All very exciting that this is happening.  Also though, they've been around for a while but Second Sight are bringing some fantastic stuff to HD: following their recent announcements for the Brian Yuzna and Stuart Gordon material that I'm really looking forward to, there are also plans to put David Cronenberg's The Brood and Scanners on the shelves around the end of the year (they're also looking at releasing Scanners 2 and 3 at the same time).  Of course these have all previously been released to DVD in the UK by Anchor Bay, so I expect these new Blu-rays to be much improved (the 'unrated' version of The Brood on the UK DVD was a bit messy).

Maniac

1980, US, Directed by William Lustig
Colour, Running Time: 88 minutes
Review Source: Blu-ray, Region A, Blue Underground; Video: 1.85:1 1080p 24fps, Audio: DTS HD

Frank Zito is a seriously disturbed individual with a penchant for misogynistic violence thanks to mistreatment during childhood at the hands of his mother. New York’s seedier side conceals a man who roams the streets at night looking for women to sexually brutalise, before leaving them scalped and dead - their hair he keeps nailed to mannequins in his morbid and dingy apartment while people of the city become increasingly frightened (following media exposure) of the perverse killer hiding amongst the already flawed inhabitants. Managing to demonstrate an ounce of normality he begins dating a fashion photographer but this only leads to more mutilation and death.

A simplistic storyline is embellished with a deeper analysis of abnormal psychology, taking initiative from the Italian giallo movies that flourished throughout the seventies by adopting a psychodynamic concept that is not so much iterated as implied in the distressing life of Zito. Joe Spinnell portrays an incredibly fu*ked up creature who oozes unhinged pain and hatred, a man who - in apparent attempt to pursue a more conventional lifestyle - temporarily manages to pull off a Mr Nice Guy act to date the corny photographer (Caroline Munro, transferring herself reasonably well from the Hammer period and her brief exposure to fame as a Bond girl), but even this seemingly contradictory turn comes across as slightly creepy. There’s something fascinating about Zito and his homicidal exploits and I suppose it’s understandable that the BBFC had such a big problem with the film back in the eighties (it was repeatedly rejected a certificate and then heavily cut even when Anchor Bay UK finally got it through in 2002). It wasn’t just the female-hating concept that perturbed the censorship body back then; the film is grindingly bloody with some horrific gore effects from maestro Tom Savini, who also bagged himself a bit part in the film to personally exhibit the special effects centre piece - a show stopping head explosion that would have woken Sleeping Beauty up to take notice. Whilst dialogue is often revealed to be slightly odd (though whether that is due to thespian execution I’m not quite sure) there are several suspenseful sequences that combine good directorial and editing capabilities - the strongest of these (assisted by a favourable performance from the actress playing the victim) involves a panic stricken nurse being pursued through the underground by the eponymous killer. Is it possible to sympathise with such an unnerving monster? Lustig makes a case, without preaching, for the fact that he was never in control of what he was to become (as is arguably the situation with any of us), and Zito’s fate was sealed by the treatment perpetrated by his mother that ultimately scarred his mind beyond repair. Maniac was a controversial horror film that hit very hard, confronted its audience with the disturbing concept of a despicable man who was really created by the actions of a person well out of the picture, and perhaps most distressing of all, the film was constructed in a fashion that keeps your eyes and ears glued throughout its duration. Admittedly a film that probably a large portion of the population would prejudgingly hate, Maniac is a highlight from a now classic period.

I understand Maniac was shot on 16mm and as such was never going to look wonderful either in the cinema or on home video. Previously I've viewed the film on duped VHS tape, and the Anchor Bay region 1 DVD several times. This 2001-released disc demonstrated a soft, indistinct image, which is forgivable considering the source. What was really surprising was the fact that the soundtrack absolutely kicked one' ass out of the room - while dialogue and effects were largely centre rooted, the music (courtesy of DD or DTS 6.1) hit you from all directions and sounded great for a low budget film on DVD. During each sequence of violence, bloodshed, or madness, this truly injects an additional slab of potency that’s very much appreciated. Surprisingly selected for a Blu-ray release in 2010, Blue Underground gave the film a bit of a makeover - of course, you can't polish turds, and it shows here. The BD image is marginally more detailed than the DVD, although colour is more saturated (it's arguable which format presents the film more accurately as it could be said the washed-out look suits the material better - never fear, you can just turn down your colour control a couple of notches!). The surround audio (available in a selection of formats including the overkill that is DTS HD 7.1) is probably a more noticeable jump in quality, and Maniac sounds stunning on Blu-ray. The BD comes with a new commentary track, along with the one recorded for the original DVD. There's also a massive batch of trailers and featurettes, as well as the near-hour-long documentary about the life of deceased Joe Spinell (which was on the AB DVD) - some of these extras are present on a second disc (standard definition, probably due to the way this material was recorded in the first place). An uncut print, probably making the film about as good as it possibly can, plus a ton of extras complete the definitive edition of this powerful and thrilling film. Incidentally, Lustig went on to direct another three films with the word ‘maniac’ in the title (example here), but more respectfully founded the DVD/Blu-ray production/distribution wonder that is Blue Underground.

The Serpent and the Rainbow

1987, US, Directed by Wes Craven
Colour, Running Time: 94 minutes
Review Source: DVD, R2, Universal; Video: Anamorphic 1.78:1, Audio: DD2.0

Anthropologist Dennis Alan (Bill Pullman) chisels a reputation for himself by surviving for weeks lost in the Amazon (jungle, rather than warehouse) on a pharmaceutical mission. A short while after returning he is requested to go on an expedition to Haiti to locate Christophe, a dead man who’s apparently been seen alive several years after his certification and burial, to discover more about a drug that can supposedly cause temporary death (or the appearance of it), allowing the victim to be revived later - the idea being to use it as a revolutionary anaesthetic to reduce life loss on operating tables. Arriving in the politically burdened, voodoo-fearing country he enlists the help of a woman, Dr Duchamp, who shows him an apparently real living ’zombie’, now incarcerated at the asylum where she works. Following enquiries they contact a shaman who claims he can concoct the drug Alan seeks - but for $1000. Unfortunately Alan has attracted the attentions of the aggressive police and a dictator called Peytraud who isn’t enthusiastic about the American’s presence and will go to any lengths to scare him away. After Alan and Duchamp finally locate Christophe wandering around a graveyard, Alan is convinced there is more to the story than just a poverty stricken asylum keen to acquire funding through publicity-seeking means.

Based on the (ostensibly true) Wade Davis book (published in 1985) Wes Craven crafted one of the most intelligent ‘living dead’ films of its time by taking an intriguing story and moulding a world that exudes a sense of mystery and the supernatural. Bill Pullman, generally better known for roles in comedies and romances, convincingly portrays an adventurer that is both daring and fragile, while Zakes Mokae (also a strong presence in Dust Devil) is frightening as the despotic Peytraud - these performances, combined with an engaging script, help to capture viewer attention. This is supported by an appropriately funereal score that adeptly alludes to impending doom (wonderful work by Brad Fiedel), an undercurrent of Alan’s quest, the summit of which being a chilling episode where he faces the ordeal of inhaling the very drug he seeks, followed by his own conscious burial. The problem with what is otherwise a gratifying journey arrives in the last 15 minutes when Craven can’t seem to help himself taking Alan’s hallucinations - which are hitherto a staple of his journey through to the unknown - into inappropriate Nightmare on Elm Street territory with dead arms elongating out of prison cells, autonomous chairs and, most ridiculously, a Shocker-style charred antagonist attacking Alan (even the music becomes conventional slasher fare at this point). Removing this rubbish for the sake of some verisimilitude and a little more ambiguity may have resulted in a masterwork. As it is, you have a superb hour and fifteen minutes of immersion into a supernaturally oppressive world, followed by 15 minutes of disposable footage that was probably shot to make the product more marketable, undermining audience intelligence (where present) in the process. Either way, it’s still Craven’s best film in my opinion.

Serpent and the Rainbow was released on DVD featuring a grainy, slightly washed-out but otherwise decent picture with its original Dolby surround track (though it’s a pity it wasn’t upgraded to 5.1) that betrays the limitations of the era. The disc is the same in both the UK and US. Without a complete overhaul the presentation serves well enough and, aside from the terrible final act, I love watching this film and it stands up well to repeat viewings.

UK Blu-rays Coming Up

Fine news that Brian Yuzna and Stuart Gordon movies are about to be treated with Blu-ray releases on UK shores: 88 Films are releasing Castle Freak at the end of October, which follows closely on the heels of their respected DVD.  Second Sight are putting out the eternally wonderful Re-Animator (which is also appearing Stateside courtesy of Image), as well as the lesser known but still enjoyable From Beyond.  Brian Yuzna is represented in terms of the slight misfire that was Bride of Re-Animator and the much better goo-fest that is Society.  I suspect 'butt-head' is gonna look even less attractive in HD...  Autumn's gonna be lavishly gruesome!

Maniac Cop

1988, US, Directed by William Lustig
Colour, Running Time: 85 minutes
Review Source: Blu-ray, Region B, Arrow; Video: 1.85:1 1080p 24fps, Audio: LPCM Stereo

Two yobs are chasing a nubile young female along the dark streets of New York at night, first wanting her money, then maybe more. An indistinct shadowy figure appears, upon closer inspection turning out to be a particularly well built policeman: the yobs halt the chase and hide in the shadows. Running into the apparent hands of safety the female is relieved that help seems to be available. But the cop brutally kills her. On Manhattan Island there seems to be an officer on the loose who’s killing any random victim who happens to cross his path; detective McCrae is on the case.  With good intention he lets information slip to the press and, following a news report on television highlighting the presence of a ‘maniac cop’ in the city, everybody is suddenly frightened of the Law. One officer soon comes under suspicion thanks to his wife turning up dead and her diary containing details of his mysterious excursions into the night. But all is not what it seems and, while McCrae is convinced that the perpetrator is connected to the police force somehow, he’s not so sure the man is still an actively employed member. But given the nature of the maniac's activities, it seems he’s getting inside information from somewhere. And not only that, following an encounter between the killer and McCrae before a close escape, he proves to be inhumanly strong and almost indestructible.

A few years after making one of the greatest exploitation films ever (Maniac), Bill Lustig returned to his forte of the killer-on-the-loose study, but this time focusing on someone who would, at a glance, be trusted by his potential victims. Nice idea and one that is pulled off well enough thanks to some fitting performances by the likes of Tom Atkins (made for police detective roles; see, for example, Night of the Creeps) as McCrae, Bruce Campbell as The Wrong Man blamed for the spate of violent crimes in the city, and Richard Roundtree as the perpetually angry commissioner. Sam Raimi even turns up in a cameo appearance as a reporter. Initially the viewer thinks this may be comfortably erring towards moral expectation, with the killer cop knocking off villains and other people who deserve death, but it comes as a surprise when he actually brutalises innocent people. His own history is explained at a certain point in the film and this retrospective passage itself provides the story with its most horrific moment, though the nature of occurrences removes any positive moral standing that could have been taken with the film itself (though there are the questionable morals of a couple of characters to take into consideration).  Of course, a positive moral standing is not an obligation for any film.  Rounding out the final act is a pretty exciting car/lorry chase that edges this movie into the uncommon action-horror genre, providing a reasonably satisfying way (without sophisticated expectations) to spend eighty minutes courtesy of exploitation specialists, Bill Lustig and Larry Cohen (Q The Winged Serpent).

Previously I'd owned the Medusa UK videotape, which was fullscreen and missing some of the gorier footage at the request of the BBFC: primarily this affected the attack on Matt Cordell, the slicing (by the editors) here being particularly sloppy. Censorship was to become more professional than this later on (how kind of them…) but the jump cut at one point is ridiculously noticeable. It has since been released on a fairly basic DVD by Optimum in the UK and Elite in the US. The best discs to go for by far have arrived on Blu-ray from Synapse in the US and Arrow in the UK.  The Arrow disc, now uncut, features a stellar image; grainy during nocturnal and some indoor shots, but really dazzling during diurnal shots, especially impressive for aerial photography.  Audio is limited by its eighties source and was never going to amaze.  There are also three featurettes (edited as usual with a pointless excess of footage from the film itself as well as overlong title sequences), some trailers, and a lovely package holding a poster, Arrow catalogue, and booklet for the film.  Overall, a fine package from Arrow.  Technically a slasher film I suppose, this isn’t up there with the nasty Maniac but, script and narrative anomalies aside, it has a moderate amount of entertainment value.

The People Who Own The Dark

1976, Spain, Directed by Leon Klimovsky
Colour, Running Time: 82 minutes
Review Source: DVD, R1, Code Red; Video: Anamorphic 1.78:1, Audio: DD Mono

A selection of bourgeois individuals gather at an isolated mansion to participate in a series of anonymous (via masks) games where their desires are allowed freedom, aided by the attendance of a group of models and prostitutes.  So far, so promising.  However, the party is broken up by an earthquake-like shock that runs through the house, shaking items from walls, upturning ornaments, etc.  Mystified by the occurrence, the masks quickly come off as they contemplate what just happened, although a scientist present already has some idea.  The landscape outside is strangely desolate as the silence is broken only by a distant warning siren.  Obtaining nothing on the radio the scientist reveals that it's likely an atomic bomb has been detonated a good distance away, but close enough for potential radiation poisoning depending on wind direction, etc - they're advised to stay put while the situation outside sorts itself.   However, whilst most of the guests are healthy, anyone above ground (the others were in the cellar at the time) has gone blind.  When the survivors head down to the nearest village to pilfer some supplies they find hordes of blind people, who are also kind of off their heads with anger - the 'tribes' immediate take a dislike to one another and the mansion is soon under siege from rock-throwing, weapon-wielding crazy people with no good senses of aim.

Último deseo, as the film was less appropriately known in its Spanish territories, was very hard to come by up until recently.  Paul Naschy is present amongst the cast members, but he takes a back seat in comparison to some of the films he's better known for.  I like the way the plot crosses over from a story that would appear to be going in one direction to one that goes somewhere else entirely (sort of in the fashion of From Dusk Til Dawn).  Logic is not at the forefront of the thinking here, but this is Spanish exploitation cinema so that's not a mind-bending shock, and the dialogue/character actions are somewhat questionable in places.  There are factors that work surprisingly well, however.  The minutes following the blast are shrouded in mystery as the characters come to grips with what's happening, and the pause as one character looks across a barren landscape from the mansion balcony hearing nothing but a distant air-raid siren is poignant and eerie.  Furthermore, an inevitable mounting drama unfolds among the group as characters have different ideas on how to survive, and this actually reaches an intensity I didn't expect, particularly in the film's final fifteen minutes or so.  In fact, the conclusion itself was quite a bit darker than anticipated.  The blind people are little on the goofy side but even they eventually prove to be a snowballing threat as their numbers increase and they learn, somehow, where the healthy survivors are holding up.  No doubt you will guess that there are elements of Night of the Living Dead, The Last Man on Earth, and The Earth Dies Screaming within, all these wrapped up nicely within a Euro-horror type of context.  Overlooking the meagre budget, and some of the aforementioned allusions to issues with the blind assailants, dialogue, and character behaviour, there are a few things going on in this film that shape a very worthy ride for the viewer.

After looking forward to locating this film for some time I would say it generally lived up to expectation - certainly I'm extremely glad Code Red took the time to release it.  Apparently, because it's a very limited appeal product, the press run will only extend to 400 copies, plus can only be ordered direct from Code Red (or ebaying sharks determined to rip off film collectors).  The breadth of features is understandably restricted.  A 35mm print was found for the main anamorphic transfer, but condition is rough to say the least - there are scratches and marks throughout, with frames sometimes being lost altogether.  Otherwise detail is actually good when not obscured by print damage.  This makes up the 78 minute version of the film.  There is a slightly longer cut, running around 82 minutes, which has been culled from a video source (labelled on the back as fullscreen, it was more like letterboxed widescreen).  Here there is significantly less damage, but detail is blurred as you would expect with anything coming from VHS.  I sampled the latter (a good couple of minutes of the difference actually occurs during the opening four minutes, where Naschy is seen spending more time shooting birds) but opted to watch the shorter cut - despite the state of the print I found the experience to be more satisfying.  Audio is English language dub and plenty of pops/cracks/hiss abound.  Shame a Spanish language version couldn't be exhumed.  Despite this, I certainly think this is a groovy little piece deserving a position in your collection, and I somehow doubt anybody will be scrubbing this up for a full HD restoration.  Also on the disc are a bunch of nutball trailers for various films that you are unlikely to see at the multiplex.

The Dark Knight Rises

2012, US, Directed by Chris Nolan
Colour, Running Time: 164 minutes
Review Source: Cinema screening; Image: 2.39:1, Anamorphic Panavision/IMAX (select scenes)

The plot takes place several years after the events of The Dark Knight, whereby Batman has effectively vanished after being accused of the murder of Harvey Dent, and Bruce Wayne has become a recluse in his isolated mansion.  Meanwhile a criminally insane masked terrorist by the name of Bane is plotting to release Gotham City from its authoritative constraints and detonate an atomic bomb in the process, this state of system and peace threatening affairs prompting the despondent Wayne to bring Batman out of 'retirement' against the judgement of omnipresent butler Alfred, to confront Bane and hopefully restore order to Gotham.

The synopsis itself is generally what you might expect of a Batman, or indeed any other superhero story.  On the surface, at least, it is made  much more complex by director Nolan's propensity for labyrinthine narrative detail but can, I think, be stripped down to the basic outline above.  There is a strong element of drama as we watch Wayne broken at the beginning, knocked back even further after his first confrontation with Bane, and then rise from near death and the imminent implosion (and explosion) of Gotham to become the Batman we know and love (this arc actually reminds me a little of the Rocky films).  His journey is punctuated with encounters with characters that either care about him, or don't care at the beginning but do later on, the main examples of this being Alfred and 'hothead' cop Blake (whose trajectory you may be able to guess as the film moves into its later stages) in the former case, and Selina/Cat Woman in the latter.  Michael Caine's Alfred is there in some kind of advisory capacity that I think would get on your nerves if you had to live with his guru-like preaching for as long as Wayne has, while Morgan Freeman's Fox makes a welcome return as the enthusiastic technology developer.  Other characters making a re-appearance include Liam Neeson's Ra's Al Ghul (yes, he's dead, but it's more of an apparition/flashback kind of situation), Maggie Gyllenhaal in image only (though it would never take someone with Wayne's monolithic wealth to find another beautiful woman to hitch up with...), and surprisingly, Cillian Murphy as Jonathon Crane, though this is brief.  These inclusions are quite nice as it helps to wrap up the 'trilogy' that this is intended to be, and maintains a pleasing level of continuity between the films.  Of course, what's most noticeable with this final outing (until Warner revive it with another team anyway), as with pretty much all of Nolan's features, is the extremely far-fetched nature of the proceedings along with vast lapses in logic (in fact there is a complete absence of logic in places), but you have to question whether you can put your belief on the back burner whilst watching - if you can't then you probably won't have too much fun watching it.  Why we really want to watch these films though is because of the action sequences, and these are as monstrous as they get, with a substantial chunk of violence smashing its way through the screen (no doubt on course to attracting complaints from idiotic parents who take their sub-12 year old kids in without asking whether it may even be suitable for their developing minds), and the obligatory appearance of bulky vehicles of mass destruction - nothing beats the funky design of the old 60s batmobile in my opinion though!  It's appropriately epic, overblown, and slightly corny in places, but is a pretty enjoyable way to conclude a very attention-grabbing series.

I saw Dark Knight at what was then the IMAX cinema in Birmingham in 2008, and was blown away by the periodic use of 70mm footage - this material opened up from the traditional scope ratio to fill the screen with an astonishingly detailed 1.44:1 image, before switching back to the widescreen 35mm stuff.  Of course, the new movie has had about 70 minutes of its running time shot with the huge cameras - Nolan is one of the film world's biggest fans of the super resolution format - and I was expecting more of the same.  Material shot on IMAX, as you probably know, captures several times the amount of visual information as that of normal (35mm) film - the effect on a big screen is stunning.  The IMAX screen in Birmingham 'de-branded' itself a while ago and became known as 'The Giant Screen' and a couple of screenings I've recently attended have been impressive.  What they have done in the process is install a 4K digital projector (in addition to changing the dimensions of the screen itself to the more standard 1.85:1 whilst retaining the approximate size).  Unfortunately it is apparent that they now no longer have the capability to run genuine IMAX film through a suitable projector, and what we got was a very strong image at a consistent 2.39:1 for The Dark Knight Rises, but it did not open up to the full height for the IMAX-shot sequences.  The IMAX film footage therefore is really downscaled to 4K for this, and other conventional cinemas - what we've lost in the process of not showing the film in its intended format is the impact of the increased resolution that was captured during shooting, therefore admittedly I felt a bit cheated.  It's still a better experience at The Giant Screen than at your average multiplex cinema, but it wasn't the full experience, and one of the thrills of Dark Knight was seeing this footage for key sequences in all its glory (something which, to an extent, has even been captured on the Blu-ray).  That was lost here, which is a huge shame, as I'm now wishing that we still had a genuine IMAX cinema in Birmingham, instead of just a very large screen with a great projection system - believe it or not, it's not the same, and there is a difference when it comes to real IMAX.