Dawn of the Mummy

Frank Agrama's Dawn of the Mummy (1981), whatever one might think about it, at the very least momentarily broke the genre away from its traditional bandaged trappings.  It starts with the usual sort of prologue, ancient Egypt natch, where a curse is laid down for some unwitting future generation to fall foul of.  Forwarding to modern day, a gold digging American has blown open the tomb protected by the curse.  Stumbling into the picture is a group of fashion models with their culturally inconsiderate photographer, who locates the same tomb that the gold-digger has just blown open.  He decides to bring the models into the tomb for an exclusive shoot, the digger putting up with them until they hopefully move on to allow him to scavenge what he can.  What the fools don't realise is that the heat of their powerful lighting equipment reactivates a mummified corpse, and thus the curse is unbound.

The film is littered with dopey characters, from the fashion models to the superstitious locals, and of course the photographer alongside his greedy kindred spirit, the gold-digger.  This provides the viewer with some fun, and some gratification as most of them receive some justice.  Standing the film out from its sub-genre predecessors is a leaning towards gore, with several nicely executed killings (helping it to become the victim of overly zealous authorities in 80s Britain, who blamed anything but themselves for a crumbling country - these days it gets a 15 certificate!).  Connected to this is the lethal nature of the mummies themselves - rather than shuffling along slowly with one useless arm, these guys are pretty ruthless, and numerous.  A standout sequence has them all rising from their sandy graves one night, and this indirectly leads to the best segment of the film: the bloody destruction of the village as the mummies descend on it to enact violent, relentless havoc.  It's not a great film but is an enjoyable night in, being both derivative and original is some twisted way.

Treasured Films put out a deluxe Blu-ray edition here in the UK, attempting to compile the most complete, adequately watchable version they can.  It appears that the negatives are not available, so you have to limit your expectations quite a bit, particularly when it becomes apparent that the sources vary greatly (it looks like they used a combination of cinema prints and possibly even tapes to bring everything together).  Certain sequences are excellent with plenty of detail and good rendering of colour, whereas others are quite horrific with fleetingly hefty digital processing being used in attempt to level everything together.  I wouldn't say the worst offending scenes are excessive, but it does mean the viewer has to accept an uneven experience.  If, like me, you are used to seeing former presentations of this, you may be quite pleased for the most part.  Having had this on tape and seen it many further times thanks to the old Anchor Bay UK DVD (see picture at bottom), the new disc is leagues beyond.  The DVD at least included two ways to view, either 1.33:1 or 1.78:1 (the Treasured disc is an improved 1.66:1 presentation), however, was very messy and almost looked like a VHS port itself in terms of its detail and emaciated colour.

The (English language) audio probably fairs better on the new disc, being generally consistent and delivering reasonable dynamics for the period/budget.  Added to that are a couple of audio commentaries, two featurettes from Stephen Thrower and Darrell Buxton, who between them cover a range of mummy films over the ages (although, oddly, talk very little about Dawn of the Mummy itself), and a nicely researched piece by Eugenio Ercolani, mainly about Agrama (including some of his more controversial activities as a businessman).  Ercolani is also involved with the fairly long talk with surviving cinematographer Sergio Rubini.

If you pick up the deluxe version the film is packaged is a sturdy outer box adorned with fresh artwork, and contains a booklet of essays coupled with a collection of cards.  A webstore exclusive also bundled an attractive poster, Egyptian 'scroll', and metal pin (see photograph above), though these don't fit in the deluxe box.  So, uneven presentation aside, this is a forgivable effort considering what the guys purportedly had to work with, and also a brave move when it's possible many labels might not have wanted to handle the project because of the source limitations.  It's the best I've ever seen it, and value is added with a really appealing package all round that happens to look great on the shelf (next to its very inspiration, Dawn of the Dead, of course).

Castle of Blood

Castle of Blood (AKA Danza Macabra) from 1964 continued in the footsteps of Mario Bava in forging a path through Italian Gothic Horror territory, and quite effectively so.  The story begins with travelling journalist Alan Foster stopping off at an inn to interview author Edgar Allan Poe, who he finds regaling other drinkers with his tales of uncanny strangeness (which he professes are all based on true events).  During the ensuing debate, Foster accepts a bet to stay in a supposedly haunted castle where people tend to wander into, but never back out of.  Sceptical Foster leaves the others at the gates of the house, ventures inwards, and is accosted by unusual events.  These culminate in a ghostly re-enactment of a jealous murder aeons ago, the two worlds crossing over leading to one of the women of the event (Barbara Steele) becoming romantically entangled with Foster.

It's a lovely piece of work from Antonio Margheriti, shot in startling black and white and featuring a wonderful gothic castle throughout which most of the action takes place.  Steele made a name for herself in these types of films, starring in the alluded to (above) Mask of Satan (Black Sunday) and another similarly-styled project with Margheriti just a short time later (The Long Hair of Death).  Most of these Steele films at time of writing have materialised on Blu-ray or 4K (the notable absence being The Ghost (Lo Spettro), Riccardo Freda's very loose follow-up to the legendary Horrible Dr Hichcock.

Released a number of times over the years, I'm focussing on three discs in particular here.  The recent 4K/Blu-ray edition from Severin Films, an earlier Blu-ray from Severin again (the film essentially being an extra on their Nightmare Castle release), and a much earlier DVD from Synapse FIlms.

In terms of presentations, the new Severin provides both the Italian Danza Macabra and US Castle of Blood cuts.  These run 90'10 (after removing tech notes preceding the film) and 82'56 respectively.  The former Severin Blu-ray was only Castle of Blood running 82'27, while the Synapse was a hybrid that approximates the European version, running 89'01.  The earlier discs were 1.78:1 framed, while the new Severin is (most likely) a more accurate 1.85:1.

Language options are Italian for Danza... on the new disc (with English translated subtitles) and English for Castle... again on the new disc.  The former Severin Blu-ray was English language only, while the Synapse was English for the most part, switching to French (with English subs) for the extra scenes.  There is a full French track on the Synapse DVD but this is unfortunately not subtitled.

Picture quality was reasonably good on the old Synapse, Don May Jr. being adept within the confines of each format he has worked with.  The previous Blu-ray from Severin was very rough, appearing to be taken from an unrestored theatrical print - scratchy and damaged throughout.  I imagine this (along with the sound - see below) is why it was only included as an extra rather than sold as a standalone feature.  The newer Severin release is pleasingly a substantial upgrade, with more detail, more shadow detail, and a beautiful grain field resolved nicely throughout.

It's a similar story with the audio quality - Synapse had cleaned up the sound though it's slightly muffled by today's standards, the older Severin Blu-ray was quite bad featuring distortions, hissing, crackle, etc.  The newer 4K is excellent: clean and very audible.  Obviously all of these presentations are effectively mono.  Interestingly, the Severin releases utilise credits that take place - inappropriately in my view - over a shot of then-modern day London, whereas the Synapse credits are more obscure (the London credits are included as an extra).

The new Severin set's extras include an engaging 15 minute chat with Margheriti's son (obviously the great man is dead now), a 20 minute return to the shooting location for parts of the film, a wonderful 5 minute chat with the charismatic director himself (shot for an article elsewhere), and a half hour piece on Steele's Italian gothic period by Rachael Nisbet, which unfortunately descends into the usual obsessions with identity politics, historical 'female oppression', and - wait for it - 'patriarchy' that almost all female critics seem to salivate over, reading the same tropes into everything they watch and attempting to pollute the minds of others with their own warped outlook along the way.  Much more engaging is the talk with ever-reliable Stephen Thrower, who delves into more varied details about the film.

It's a relief to say that the Severin 4K release, both standalone and previously included in their Danza Macabra Volume 2 The Italian Gothic Collection, is as definitive as I can imagine it, with a fantastic video and audio presentation that thoughtfully includes the two main edits of the film (plus English translated subtitles!) alongside a reasonable supply of extras.  The former Severin Blu-ray is atrocious but to be fair, as mentioned above, it was a supplemental feature to Nightmare Castle, which looked good.  The Synapse DVD is not without its value, being a decent way to experience what approximates the European cut in mostly English.  As it stands though, the new Severin 4K is now my go-to option for this minor classic.

Mutant

Two brothers - easy-going Josh and uptight Mike - are on a driving holiday in backwoods USA when a road rage encounter results in their car landing on the wrong side of a ditch, the two lads having consequently to hike to the nearest small town. The hostility continues when they arrive at the very bar that the so-called rednecks who drove them off the road are playing pool. The ensuing bar brawl ends with the sheriff driving them to a B&B before recommending that they get the car sorted out and get out of town the next morning. The sheriff is not particularly bothered about the lads' apparent discovery of a corpse near the bar either, especially when a drunken old man is found - alive - in the exact place where the body was previously discovered. Next morning Mike has gone missing; Josh heads into town and hooks up with a barmaid/schoolteacher (everyone does two jobs in this place) to find out what's going on in the town as the population seems to be diminishing by the day.

Originally titled Night Shadows, John Bud Cardos’ Mutant (1984) kind of falls within the toxic waste/zombie sub-genre of films, though it has its own personality to an extent despite feeding off a number of well-used cliches. Whilst I don't think it's highly regarded, I personally have a soft spot for the film. Josh is a bit of a twerp (played by action man Wings Hauser) and his brother Mike is kind of a wet rag (boyish Lee Montgomery of The Midnight Hour), but they're a reasonably likable pair, particularly compared to the obnoxious film characters we often have to put up these days. As the mystery unravels it transpires that toxic waste may be transforming the local people into Carnival of Souls lookalike ghouls, though the viewer has to forgive the writers for a number of illogical factors along the way (e.g. the unplanned but perfectly timed/located rescue of Josh as his last seconds approach during infiltration of the off-limits chemical plant). There are some strong supporting performances from the likes of Bo Hopkins as the believably alcoholic sheriff and Jennifer Warren as the sympathetic town doctor, plus some great set pieces. Most notably this includes a narrow escape as hordes of undead children attack the heroes during their search of the initially deserted school, a mass assault on the car that the barmaid is trapped in, and the fantastic climax as the surviving heroes hold up in a surrounded building. Unfortunately, the pinnacle of the climax is a bit of a let-down, otherwise the story – though generally goreless - is a satisfying one composed of a few thrills and a bit of fun alongside some groovy looking undead types.

The movie was notoriously mis-marketed back in the eighties. Having serendipitously discovered it via a satellite broadcast in the nineties I continued to view it using a taped recording until later when I picked it up as part of a Hollywood DVD boxed set. The company were renowned for lacklustre transfers and Mutant was no exception - which is a shame of course. After selling the set (there were too many films in there I couldn't face watching again!) I later picked up the film as a solitary release by a strangely unbranded company. Of course, the Hollywood DVD logo fires up just before the film begins, suggesting a direct port of the old disc. The interlaced 1.33:1 image is indistinct, colours are not especially appealing, but worse is the possibility that it's heavily cropped - the compositions look far too tight at the sides to me. Elite formerly released the film in the US on DVD, this disc boasting an anamorphic widescreen transfer with stereo sound and (similar to the Hollywood DVD release) a trailer.

Eventually appearing on German shores, the Blu-ray I later picked up gives us a widescreen transfer (HD Remastered as the cover boasts…) with a choice between stereo and 5.1 Dolby Digital audio tracks.  The 5.1 is not a convincing presentation, the 2.0 track is most likely more accurate to the source.  Image-wise the transfer is oddly grainless.  Detail is not bad but colours fluctuate from scene to scene, suggesting a proper colour correction process needs to be followed.  Compared to the versions I’ve seen previously it’s significantly better detailed with improved composition (and progressive of course…), while colouring varies quite a lot.  The German disc is not cutting through the standards set by present-day boutique labels.  Interestingly, there is an extra version of the film on the disc, a slightly different cut, however it’s in standard definition and German language only.  The cover itself is reversible with the large age logo removed on the other side, case is slimline.  Picked up cheaply, it’s a reasonable buy, though I can’t help feel someone like Vinegar Syndrome needs to rescue this and finally give the film the justice I believe it deserves.

The Demoniacs

Following his infamous series of four vampire films between 1968 and 1972, Jean's output started to vary in thematic tone a little.  Aside from the porn films that he was forced to make in order to keep going financially, the trio of 'proper' movies that followed included this supernatural homage to the pirate serials he grew up loving.  The Demoniacs (1974) introduces us to a troupe of scruffy, grimy pirates, three guys and a perpetually orgasmic woman (a brilliant Joëlle Coeur, who'd been previously seen in Schoolgirl Hitchhikers).  These bandits discover a couple of shipwrecked innocent young women limping in from the ocean.  Spotting an opportunity for what they see as chaotic fun, the sadistic bunch proceed to violently assault the two women, leaving them for dead to go about their business of getting drunk and laid (even more) in the local tavern.  The two victims, however, seem to survive.  On a quest for revenge they elicit the help of a nearby spiritual sorcerer who grants them the powers that they will need.

Probably of little concern here is the plot itself, as with many of Rollin's films - it's more so an excuse to indulge in strange situations, exquisite location work and imagery, peppered with some sexual shenanigans to keep things lively.  The opening score is oddly professional, perhaps putting the average viewer into a false sense of expectation.  I imagine such expectation would be quickly dashed once the proceedings are underway.  The rape sequence(s) are quite unpleasant, the two girls treated horribly by the whole group of pirates.  The subsequent morality explorations are strange to the say the least, particularly when the conclusion is taken into consideration (I won't reveal where it goes).  In a way though, whilst somewhat unsatisfying on one level, it does result in the offbeat and unexpected that contributes to Rollin's work existing in such a weird, periodically beautiful universe all of its own.  Quite long for a Rollin film (depending on which version you watch - see below), The Demoniacs maintains a perverse allure, at the same time different from much of his other work and undefiantly Rollin in personality.

It goes without saying that Powerhouse, with their famed Indicator label, have once again delivered a wonderful definitive edition.  Most amazingly, they've compiled three versions of the film.  Probably the most recommended is the theatrical version, which runs 100 minutes, followed by a more explicit export version (109 minutes), as well as the trimmed-down Curse of the Living Dead version, 86 minutes.  The limited edition Ultra-HD disc (also available as a Blu-ray), 1.85:1 framed, looks astounding compared to the previous Blu-rays and especially DVDs, utilising as it does the negative for the restorations and treated with great respect as a piece of 35mm.  Digital restoration has come such a long way even in ten years, and what once looked exemplary is now put into the shadows by comparison (although the Redemption releases were excellent for the time, and still pleasing to watch).  Obviously the mono-audio derived language is French with newly translated English subtitles (aside from Curse..., which is English dubbed).

The disc is packed with commentary material and interviews, the best on-disc extra being a forty-minute appreciation by Stephen Thrower - he has a knack for weeding out what makes moving art good, identifying rationale that enlightens even long-term fans such as myself, and he does a better job of explaining why Rollin's work is so relevant in the world of cinema than I could ever do myself.  I'd even suggest it's a good starting point for those new to Rollin, so that the initially perplexed response can be put into perspective as the open-minded viewer sees the beauty beneath the layers that are at odds with what he/she conventionally defines as good film-making.

The gorgeous bundled book contains a range of material.  Firstly an essay from the critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, a person who appears to be generally hung up on gender politics and (here, as well as in other published work) peculiarly obsessed with rape-revenge concepts.  My theory is that in an ideally civilised world, where feminists could not really justify treating men like the worthless sub-humans that they see them to be, the act of rape gives these dogmatic individuals the excuse they need to unleash their unmasked contempt.  In spite of this the essay is not too psychotic...

Much better is a brilliant overview of Rollin's career, followed by late-life interview with the director - this was produced by Mike Lebbing for the legendary Encore DVD releases in the noughties.  There's also a very welcome, at times bizarre, making-of recollection essay by Rollin himself, outlining the difficulties of the shoot, thoughts on the actors, etc.  These are great inclusions, and conclude with an interview with Monica Swinn, one of the tavern denizens in the film.  As with the previous Rollin releases from Indicator, the book and disc case are held within a hard-box outer case.  All very luxurious in quality, I hope they continue this for the rest of the Jean Rollin editions.

Silent Hill

Following the successful PlayStation game of the same name (unleashed on gamers in 1999 and superseded by several sequels/spin-offs) Silent HIll continued a trend that brought in a few shillings for the film industry whilst simultaneously burdening the preciously limited time of viewers with an increasingly large and smelly mound of dung to wade through.  Guilty entries in the sub-genre of computer game adaptations included House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, Postal and, to a lesser extent, Resident Evil (although that series can be entertaining in a switch-your-brain-off manner).  Back in the nineties it was rubbish like Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat (bearable maybe) and Super Mario Bros.; in the noughties it was the horror movie fan who became the target.  I wrote off Silent Hill when I caught the theatrical presentation back in 2006: too long, not enough story, style over content, Sean Bean, etc.  Despite that, however, it’s sometimes worth checking out a movie for a second viewing because it can reveal its underlying charms that way, should there be any present.  I’ve since seen it around six times at the point of writing this.

Swapping Harry from the game for a woman (in fact that’s the case with many of the characters) called Rose, the storyline otherwise remains fairly faithful to the first game: Rose and her husband Christopher have a few problems with daughter Sharon whereby she sleepwalks, unconsciously draws up nasty little images and mumbles about a place called Silent Hill that they discover is a ghost town with a horrific history.  Rose decides the only way to break the cycle (medication hasn’t worked) is to take Sharon off to this place Silent Hill to see why it’s become such an ongoing mental problem with the girl.  After coming into unwanted contact with a policewoman along the way, Rose and the cop both crash their car and bike respectively, just outside of Silent Hill itself.  Rose wakes up to find Sharon missing.  She goes in search across the misty town, a place strangely misplaced from reality, and soon realises there’s something truly frightening about the environment.  Air-raid sirens periodically announce the arrival of all-encompassing darkness, with it truly monstrous organisms that will slaughter anything vaguely human.  Meanwhile Christopher is understandably perturbed by his wife’s rash trip with their daughter and heads off to Silent Hill himself.  There he finds a police detective and team overseeing the scene of the former vehicle accident.  Both the detective and Christopher head into the town to look for Rose and Sharon, but while they seem to be all there simultaneously, they don’t actually see each other: as Chris and the detective are present in everyday reality, Rose and the female cop now exist in some alternate dimension, a limbo world inhabited by hellish creatures and the damned former inhabitants of the town.

The story of this Canadian-French production is undoubtedly quite limited, with many sequences simply following Rose as she’s exploring the town or being threatened by demonic apparitions.  The problem inherently lies with the very nature of the production, it being a game-to-film adaptation.  A writer is damned if they do or don’t in that respect: add too much story and you’re at risk of disappointing the hardcore fans of the game by not maintaining faithfulness.  Whereas, take the game literally and there’s inevitably barely enough story to stretch the onscreen action to conventional running time.  In that respect at least Silent Hill falls into the sincere camp, but it still exceeds two hours and that’s way too long in my opinion.  Dialogue is oddly dated in places, perhaps deliberately so in order to enhance the film’s affiliation with the unfamiliar (it’s hard to imagine that writer Roger Avary botched the job after his work on the likes of Pulp Fiction, True Romance, etc.) while logic is bizarre at times – despite the source I think this could have done with some work.  The other issue I really have is with Sean Bean.  Of course, he’s often extremely good at his vocation but he just doesn’t cut playing an American.  If I was American I’d think he was taking the piss, it just doesn’t work.  I never see much point in hiring an actor for a part that requires an accent so grossly at odds with their own natural tongue and here we have someone heavily northern (from Sheffield specifically) who can pull off a traditional English accent well enough, but when it comes to American he’s an embarrassment to whatever’s left of international peace.

On the positive side the film’s visuals are stunning and director Christophe Gans possesses stellar understanding of powerful composition, aided in no doubt by the vast, decaying production design of legendary Carol Spier - many of these frames could be frozen and hung on the wall (depending on the surrounding décor…), and the 2.35:1 proportions are comfortably put to use by the director and Danish cinematographer Dan Laustsen.  Colour choices and contrasts are so acute it’s almost too perfect.  Similarly, the music (mostly adopted from the game) adds to the tension with originality and creepiness throughout.  Radha Mitchell does well as Rose, and though the Australian is another accent-choice anomaly she’s certainly more successful in this area than Bean.  She also looks fantastic.  Finally, the point of the film: terror.  Certain scenes are utterly nightmarish in tone and effect, there are times when proceedings escalate to such a tremendous height of insanity and absolute ghastliness they not only drag you in but also make up for the movie’s aforementioned shortcomings.  The inhuman creations that populate the world are imaginative, an appreciable cut above usual genre monsters.  Whereas I once considered Silent Hill to be an overly stylistic waste of space I eventually changed my attitude to the film.

An early Blu-ray release (and purchase, for me) in the UK from Pathé, the disc (significantly better than the Sony US edition of the same period) has stood up surprisingly well over time – stark contrasts and colours over a substrate of apparent grain that looks okay in motion although doesn’t hold up quite so well under still-frame analysis.  The reasonably pleasing image is combined with a powerful DTS HD MA Hi-Res audio track.  There’s also a reasonable supply of extras.  The same master was later utilised by Scream Factory for a special edition containing more extras and an overall higher bitrate (alongside slight differences in colour timing).  Unless you’re desperate for the extras, I wouldn’t say that it’s worth upgrading.  Perhaps more could be done with this 35mm (possibly Super 35)-shot film these days (although it was - as has become the norm - digitally mastered at intermediate stage, so that could limit possibilities if full remastering from the negative is not viable); if not, I’m happy enough with this disc.

The Nude Vampire

It could be said that this was Rollin's first real debut feature film, seeing as it was that Rape of the Vampire really began life as a short and was later embellished with more material to transform it into a full length movie. Not only that, but 1970’s The Nude Vampire (or La Vampire Nue) switched to colour (no doubt due to an increase in available funds) and seemed to really kick off some of the themes that cemented the road into Rollin's future directorial career.

Following the discovery of an oddly mute woman pursued by mysterious animal-masked (à la The Wicker Man) individuals, a bored, bourgeois young man by the name of Pierre adopts a certain degree of interest in his snobbish father's covert nightly activities. His interest and cunning gains him access to the exclusive-entry mansion where the running female had escaped from earlier - inside he discovers groups of masked individuals indulging in strange nocturnal activities (sounds like my local council). The blood/death cult appear to be willingly sacrificing themselves to the very woman that Pierre came across earlier, and despite the fact that she was apparently shot dead before his rapid departure, she now walks around looking rather healthy and all too happy to feast on the life fluid of the recently despatched cult members.

Like the character of Pierre, we the viewers are confronted by a rather unhinged little world where people act in an unusual fashion, possibly oblivious to their own purpose in the greater good. In this sense, the nonchalant manner of many of the actors seems have been unwittingly suited to the characters they are portraying. Pierre's access to the mansion is gained in amusing fashion, and inside the world only becomes weirder. The collision of vampirism, eroticism, and pseudo-science clearly announces the developing idiosyncratic tendencies of the film's creator, and - leanings towards scientific territory aside - formed part of the legacy that would eventually result in viewers such as myself with niche tastes being able to enjoy his many cinematic excursions decades later.

This film also marked the first of many whereby his staple concept of two united nubile females would remain attached throughout their journey within the story, albeit relegated to almost background status in this particular outing. This staple would fully manifest itself in the likes of Requiem for a Vampire. Furthermore, the conclusion manages to find its way to the rough seashore that would also play a significant part in so many of his stories. The Nude Vampire (incidentally, the titular character, whilst admittedly stunning to look at, is more often than not clothed, albeit in a translucent fashion) is not the best of Rollin's films but it boasts indelible stamps of his personality all over it, and it's nicely shot as a bonus (as were many of his best works) - recognition must go to Rollin's cinematographers (here Jean-Jacques Renon, who frequently lensed Rollin's seventies flicks) for their role in the recreation of an abundance of attractive images, and I would argue that they are too omnipresent to dismiss Rollin himself as an incompetent or occasionally lucky director (which most casual viewers – and indeed audiences of the time according to Rollin’s own testimonies - would probably be all too happy to do).

As part of an ongoing series, The Nude Vampire has had a new UHD and HD makeover (1.66:1); eternal thanks to the Indicator label of Powerhouse Films.  The previous 2012 Blu-ray from Kino, in their collaboration with Redemption, was a notable improvement over older presentations.  The new Indicator discs are a surprisingly substantial upgrade again – I thought the Redemption disc was really nice, however, it’s quite astounding how much more there was to pull out of the negative in terms of small detail and fine film grain.  Having been watching this since the Redemption VHS days in the 90s (and later again on DVD) it's satisfying to experience these films in the kind of quality that I believe represents how they were meant to be viewed.

Audio was available in both French and English for the Redemption release, whereas on Indicator there are two slightly differently edited versions, one French language (new English translated subtitles), one English – both versions are exactly the same length.  Redemption extras totalled around thirty minutes with a long interview with the director, an introduction, some trailers, and a further interview with Natalie Perrey, who worked on a number of Rollin's films in various capacities, from script writing to acting to editing. The package at that time contained the same booklet that made its way into the other Blu-rays from the first wave of releases from Kino (I’m not sure why they did this because the same fans, such as myself, inevitably ended up with multiple copies of the same booklets).  Indicator’s release is a little different, containing roughly the same amount of filmed extras plus a commentary from Jonathan Rigby plus Kevin Lyons.  Similar to the other Indicator 4Ks, the housing case is attractively designed with original poster art containing an inner case that holds the disc.  The bundled book is gloriously high quality, highlights include a couple of interviews (one of the 70s, one the 90s) with Rollin – I love that they are exhuming legacy materials such as this – and a decent essay by David Jenkins.  The packaging design of these discs is very respectful, acknowledging Rollin as the auteur that he really was. All in all, while mainstream viewers may find this film a little too inaccessible for conventional tastes, Rollin fans will want this straight away.

León Klimovsky: Horror Film Checklist

Something I've wanted to compile, this post lists all known horror films directed by legendary film-maker (and an underrated one in my opinion) León Klimovsky.  These are Spanish films although the man himself was Argentinian.  Eclectic in skills, León had made films in a number of genres outside of horror, particularly wars and westerns.

Note, the media release information provides the best known release to my knowledge, although some of these discs may no longer be in print.  Unfortunately, several of these (and many of his non-horrors) have never had a disc release, possibly not even a VHS in some cases, and may be lost forever.  Please contact me if you feel there are corrections to be made.

Fear and the Girl - 1964

    AKA Ella y el miedo

    Features May Heatherly, Virgilio Teixeira

    No known disc release

The Werewolf Versus the Vampire Woman - 1971

    AKA La Noche de Walpurgis, Werewolf Shadow

    Features Paul Naschy, Gaby Fuchs, Yelena Samarina

    Released on UHD Blu-ray (4K) by Vinegar Syndrome

Dr Jekyll Versus The Werewolf - 1972

    AKA Doctor Jekyll y el Hombre Lobo, Dr Jekyll and the Wolfman

    Features Paul Naschy, Shirley Corrigan, Jack Taylor, Mirta Miller

    Released on UHD Blu-ray (4K) by Mondo Macabro

Vengeance of the Zombies - 1973

    AKA La rebelión de las muertas, Rebellion of the Dead Women

    Features Paul Naschy, Maria Kosty, Mirta Miller

    Released on Blu-ray by BCI Eclipse and Scream Factory

Dracula Saga - 1973

    AKA La saga de los Drácula, Dracula: The Bloodline Continues

    Features Helga Liné, Maria Kosty, Tina Sáinz, Tony Isbert

    Released on DVD by BCI Eclipse

The Vampires' Night Orgy - 1973

    AKA La orgía nocturna de los vampiros, Orgy of the Vampires

    Features Jack Taylor, Helga Liné

    Released on Blu-ray by Code Red

Legendary piece of work as a group of tourists are inadvertently driven into a town populated by the undead.  Plenty of classic spooky scenarios unfold in this one.

The Devil's Possessed - 1974

    AKA El mariscal del infierno, Marshall of Hell

    Features Paul Naschy, Norma Sebre

    Released on Blu-ray by Scream Factory

The Devil's Possessed is not strictly a horror film, almost more of a historical escapade, although it does contain elements of horror (hence its inclusion here).  At times it feels like something that was inspired by Witchfinder General, but possibly would have benefitted from upping the violence and sordidness.

Night of the Walking Dead - 1975

    AKA El extraño amor de los vampiros, The Strange Love of Vampires

    Features Emma Cohen, Viky Lussón, Carlos Ballesteros

    Released on Blu-ray by Severin

A Dragonfly for each Corpse - 1975

    AKA Una libélula para cada muerto, Red Killer

    Features Paul Naschy, Erika Blanc, Maria Kosty

    Released on Blu-ray by Scream Factory

Reasonably good giallo focussing a little more on the police investigation side of things than I would have preferred personally.  As the title suggests, a killer leaves a little dragonfly brooch on each victim as a calling card, Naschy's character investigates.

The People Who Own The Dark - 1976

    AKA Último Deseo, Planeta ciego

    Features Nadiuska, Paul Naschy

    Released on Blu-ray by Code Red

Minor classic as a group of people are trapped in a mansion as an apocalyptic event takes places outside, turning the population into desperate sightless individuals.

Three Days in November - 1977

    AKA Tres días de noviembre

    Features Maribel Martín, Tony Isbert

    No known disc release

Trauma - 1978

    AKA Violación fatal

    Features Ágata Lys, Heinrich Starhemberg

    Released on Blu-ray by Vinegar Syndrome

Ghost of Frankenstein

After watching Ghost of Frankenstein (1942) you can almost imagine somebody at Universal coming up with a great title and then trying to figure out how it could be justified through the screenplay, hence the suspiciously token appearance at one point of Henry’s apparition giving out some post-mortem advice to Ludwig, his son (the other Frankenstein, Basil Rathbone, is nowhere to be seen here, possibly too busy being Sherlock Holmes). Acknowledging the skimpy 67 minute running time, it might be easy to begin worrying - while the third film in the series (Son of Frankenstein) was one of Universal’s longest of the period, the first couple of films are hardly epics: now, had the monster run out of electricity? While Son of… carefully constructs a 30 minute build up to the monster’s reawakening, this film barely wastes a few minutes as the now obligatory mob of angry villagers (don’t these townspeople ever move on?) take it on themselves to blow up the castle where the monster’s remains lie buried in solidified sulphur, while a surviving Ygor (Bela Lugosi again) still roams the vicinity. Of course, the very actions that are intended to destroy actually result in the release of the thing they detest - Ygor manages to get the stumbling creature out as the castle is razed. The odd couple make their way to another town where their exploits are less likely to be known but it’s hard to maintain stealth when one is accompanied by a seven-foot green man with a flat head and neck bolts (not to mention being a hunchback with a broken neck oneself), so upon attempting to rescue the toy of a young girl the creature is rapidly apprehended and imprisoned.

Brought to court the monster is angered by the appearance of someone it thinks it recognises: Ludwig, the brother of the son of the man (the family ties are starting to get a little longwinded here…) who gave him life in the first place. The monster breaks free of its chains into the hands of the ever-present Ygor. Deciding to make amends for the chaos caused by the inadvertent implantation of an abnormal brain into the monster, Ludwig reasons that a normal brain will make the monster rational. Contrarily, the sharper-than-you’d-expect Ygor decides that it’s his brain that should go into the monster thus bringing the two of them together forever, and so formulates a plan to execute his desire.

Again the continuity is nice though not always accurate - Ludwig claims that the monster drove his brother into exile but Wolf looked happy enough at the end of the last film and the monster had been trapped in sulphur since then. Ygor just isn’t going to die any time soon either, having apparently been wiped out in the previous film he’s back (though that neck hasn’t healed up yet) and still carrying that bloody horn. Boris Karloff is finally gone forever, wisely avoiding continuation with the series - in his place staggers Universal’s latest star of fright, Lon Chaney Junior. Problem is, just as with Son of Dracula, Chaney just doesn’t seem to be very good in this kind of role, blundering around like an imbecile with little of the talent that Karloff managed to display in the same. Of course, it doesn’t really help that the direction and script are quite average - you can’t polish pungent manure and I suppose even if Karloff had contributed it couldn’t have made this film much better. It was reported that Chaney repeatedly complained about the prosthetic on his forehead to the point of eventually losing his temper with it and ripping it off (along with a large slice of skin). Pretty ironic considering the torment his father used to put himself through for the sake of authentic characterisation.

Perhaps hinting at the real nature of the monster, as with a couple of the other films, there’s the prominent presence of a child - she almost brings a little hope when it looks like she may be able to communicate with the creature at the courtroom, and later it kidnaps her once realising that it’s going to be on the receiving end of a new brain, the intention being to have hers (her facial expression here is priceless). If the film has anything at all going for it, it occurs with the realisation that Ludwig has not implanted the brain he thought but that of Ygor, i.e. the monster finally speaks but with Ygor’s voice - it’s almost a chilling moment. The fact that Ygor realises he’s now blind also helps to set up elements of next chapter. Other than that, this film is completely pedestrian and can safely be considered the nadir of the whole series.

The image on Blu-ray is excellent, exhibiting a near perfect contrast balance and large amounts of detail, supported by cleaned-up audio.  Ghost of Frankenstein is a pure cash-in if ever there was one but does contain one functional narrative idea that works well and is of some relevance to the series (the insertion of Ygor’s brain into the monster).  However, it’s not quite enough to rescue a bad film. Thankfully there was much better to come as the monster’s ultimate conflict loomed just around the corner…  Director-for-hire Erle C Kenton was also to lend his hand to a couple more (enjoyable) films in the series from this point on.

Son of Frankenstein

Several decades following the events of Bride of Frankenstein, Henry’s son - Wolf - returns with his wife and child to the town on a stormy night to claim his inheritance. Rather than greeting him as a baron, the villagers and council are displeased to see him, making no attempt to hide their disapproval. The problem lies in their expectations: they fear a repeat of the terror that the baron’s father brought to their locale with the creation of the monster that everyone now believes to be dead. What they don’t realise is that local grave robber, Ygor, who should be dead thanks to being hanged some time previous, lives in the ruins of the destroyed watchtower and is keeping the dormant - though not destroyed - body of the monster a secret. Once Ygor hears of Wolf’s arrival he approaches him hoping that the baron and the notes written by his father will enable work to begin on returning the monster to its full strength. Quite intrigued yet also desiring to bring some balance to his family name, Wolf sets about reinvigorating the monster, but he doesn’t realise Ygor is primarily interested in despatching those who convicted him for his body-snatching exploits. Of course, when the monster is granted full strength again Ygor manipulates the creature to do his bidding; thus the murders begin.

While it would have been quite a task to follow up the preceding two classics, I’m not so sure Universal were too concerned considering the money they had brought in. 1939’s Son of Frankenstein is an imaginative outing, at the same time one that gives birth to a number of clichés along the way. I like the way the story unfolds, revealing a number of odd characters alongside quite a sinister bunch of narrow-minded villagers who judge all too quickly (possibly understandably but let’s not forget that the problems would have happened several decades before). The police inspector had his army career put on permanent hold by the removal of an arm at the hands of the monster when he was a boy, giving him some personal emotional investment in the return of the Frankensteins. The one-armed inspector now has to move the immobile false limb around with his real one in order to make any use out of it. The new baron is played eloquently by Basil Rathbone just prior to his long running stint as Sherlock Holmes.  The character’s motivations I’m unsure of - he is desperate to rid the family of a bad name yet sets about bringing potency back to the very thing that ruined it in the first place. Surely easier to destroy it there and then? Plus, he seems to go a little potty at one point only to return to complete amicable sanity for the film’s conclusion. Boris Karloff’s personality is subdued somewhat compared to Bride…, his learned ability to talk now gone again while a generally darker and less sympathetic presence prevails. Then there’s Ygor, the bane of horror film clichés… 

Bela Lugosi is quite unrecognisable in this role and I like the way he plays it. Aside from a ridiculous hairdo that has since been popularised by one or two boy bands, Ygor is a nasty individual with purely hostile intentions. The fact that he’s been hanged and survived adds to both the creepiness plus the humour - at one point the village courtroom attendees are arguing about whether he is technically dead and if he can be trialled again. His bone protrudes from his neck, his teeth are almost vampiric, and he’s generally a mess both externally and internally. The monster’s make-up seems a little less meticulous here though it was apparently the result of Jack Pierce’s application once again. Clothed for the first time in that famous fleece body-warmer, his eventual appearance involves an enjoyably creepy build up to his reawakening as Ygor and Wolf set to work on him using Henry‘s notes. Two areas that deserve commendation: some of the set designs and the cinematography itself, both creating a warped, unique feel to the most significant locations, notably the baron’s house interiors and the entrance to the old derelict grounds. The stormy train journey sets up quite a nice atmosphere of foreboding unease and this is compounded when Wolf and his family arrive to hordes of villagers ominously waiting to witness his arrival, their faces hidden by soaked umbrellas.

The Blu-ray visuals contain plenty of detail, eschewing instances of combing in the former DVD. Along the leftmost side of the DVD image there was a thin but strong blue electronic line present throughout, however this was not noticeable on equipment that overscans (either automatically or by volition).  The Blu-ray is superior with both cleaner image and sound (very appealing considering the age of the film).  The classiness of the first two films is kind of absent from Son of Frankenstein (director Rowland V Lee was never going to be able to compete with the legendary James Whale) but, clichés aside, I like the way they continued the story, maintaining continuity to an extent as well as injecting the original concept with a few new narrative ideas, thus there’s plenty to enjoy here.

The Midnight Hour

It’s Halloween in Pitchford Cove, high school youngsters are arranging a huge party at an old house to celebrate. After a class presentation by Phil (Lee Montgomery) about the history of Halloween in relation to the town itself, a small team of students decide to authenticate their fancy dress costumes by breaking into the witchcraft museum and stealing (sorry, borrowing) some genuine 19th century outfits as worn by various occupiers of the period, including a witch who was burned at the stake as she passed curse upon the place (natch). Stopping off at the nearby cemetery they have the cool idea of reading out an old parchment that they found with the costumes - an incantation for raising the dead. Laughing of their antics they leave the cemetery to prepare for the evening's party, unaware that their little joke has actually worked and bodies are returning to life along with the awakening of various other demonic entities such as werewolves and vampires. Later at the party geeky Phil finds himself unable to attract the attentions of the girl of his dreams (she’s more interested in the football-playing beefcakes) and decides to head off home, not realising that the recently disturbed dead are invading the party and causing havoc throughout the town. On his way back he runs into Sandy, a girl he met earlier who also happens to have died thirty years previous (but passable as a living person due to a distinct lack of rotting flesh and, presumably, associated odour). Together they become aware that the town is undergoing a chaotic transformation as the dead turn the living into lifeless homicidal shells - Phil and Sandy have to find a way of restoring peace to Pitchford Cove as they rapidly become a minority in a town that’s filling up with ghouls.

The fact that The Midnight Hour was made for television (back in 1985) is somewhat betrayed through a noticeable lack of gore, violence, and sex, but I’m not one to let those deficiencies hold back my enjoyment of a film - after all, there’s still atmosphere and scares to be had, right? Well, maybe not here. It opens with a nice little set-up as we see the residents of the Cove preparing for Halloween celebrations, going to school, arguing about theft, etc. One of the main problems is the undead creatures - they’re a bit of a joke and are treated as such by the film-makers. The make-up is actually very good while being overly emphasised in a Buffy-type sense and therefore not particularly unnerving. It’s not helped by having actors who think they’re comedians playing some of the parts and one corpse especially gets on my nerves with his clumsy antics. There’s also a hopeless werewolf whose attacks on mortals are oddly impotent, lacking tension in the process. Lee Montgomery was never a very ballsy actor but he’s a reasonably likeable dude and does the job. His newfound love interest, Sandy, is played by Rosanna Arquette lookalike Jonna Lee, someone who worked mainly in TV before disappearing off the scene in the early nineties. Shame because she’s both attractive and competent here.

The teenage behavioural tendencies are typical of the period and may provide some nostalgic fun for those of us who were there, but on occasions they can induce minor cringes. The film takes something of a bizarre turn when, without explanation or precedence the entire undead cast of the house go into a Thriller-style song and dance number that lasts about five minutes - I’m not kidding: this has to be seen to be believed. It may have been fun to shoot but it’s a touch embarrassing to watch. There are one or two things going for Midnight Hour, however. Firstly, it makes great use of fifties/sixties music like The Midnight Hour (obviously), Bad Moon Rising (slightly blasphemous as that track belongs to American Werewolf... as far as I’m concerned!), and Sea of Love (by Del Shannon). In addition, a particular standout sequence has Phil and Sandy cruising through the town as it crawls with the walking dead, later becoming pursued by hordes as they go back to the house to retrieve certain things they’ll need to restore order. The conclusion of the film, though, is a little on the sloppy side. One rather surprising point to note: the competent but pedestrian direction is by Jack Bender, someone who since went on to enthral us with many of the episodes from Lost.

The taped recording I have was taken from a satellite broadcast back in the early nineties and maintains a surprisingly colourful, sharp (for the medium) 1.33:1 image. I don’t think this ever received a sell-through release in the UK, disc or cassette, but Anchor Bay put out a barebones DVD on Region 1 aeons ago (the film itself was granted with a decent transfer); that disc can be difficult to find nowadays and for reasons unknown the film remains unfortunately MIA on physical media (this may be down to music rights or perhaps Disney ownership). The Midnight Hour is light, reasonably fun entertainment, despite the occasional foray into embarrassing territory, plus there is that slightly eerie segment of the last act to consider.  It's a professional 35mm production - better than you'd expect for TV - which would have benefitted from an injection of adult content.

Horror Rises from The Tomb

I first came across the Spanish 1973 film, Horror Rises from The Tomb, as an n’th generation VHS cassette in the 90s and after a couple of viewings pretty much consigned it to the backend of my video shelf, though I suppose opinion is never helped when something is cut, cropped and looking more questionable than government manifestos.  So the digital age arrived, matured, and in 2007 BCI/Deimos released a significantly improved version of a film that I had condemned to being crap, but behold, it received a few good reviews prompting a personal re-evaluation…  So, decades on from its production, how does Carlos Aured's El Espanto Surge De La Tumba hold up? Hugo, Maurice and girlfriends are chatting away one evening when the subject of a respected medium arises and they decide to go visit the woman, for a bit of a joke in the case of Hugo in particular. Knowing about the legend of a medieval sorcerer, Hugo’s ancestor Alaric, who was killed for his sins centuries before (which we get to see in the prologue), Hugo facetiously asks the medium at the séance to call forth Alaric's spirit, which of course she appears to do. The maligned ancient spirit reveals where his severed head and body are buried hoping that the reintegration of them will restore him to physical life, released from the netherworld which he is forced to wander in ethereal limbo. Hugo decides to take his friends on a mission to do just this, all of them heading up the mountains to a decrepit castle where they get the servants (!) to dig up half of the castle grounds looking for the separated body parts.  Of course, once the inherently hostile Alaric is recomposed by a hypnotised/possessed Maurice, along with his lover (a never-sexier Helga Liné) who simultaneously faced the inquisition centuries ago, Hugo and his friends are confronted with all manner of evil occurrences which they find themselves unable to control or escape from.

This is not necessarily superior film-making if perceived from a conventional perspective; Spanish horror exists in a universe of its own, much like the Italian equivalent but different again.  Despite a tendency towards talkiness, there are classics hiding beneath dirty stones for those willing to rummage, notably Satan’s Blood and The Vampire’s Night Orgy for example. Jacinto Molina (AKA Paul Naschy) was sort of the king of Spanish horror if ever there was one but his films were often variable in quality, while his acting ability sometimes limited - put it this way, he‘s no Peter Cushing. In spite of this, his perennial passion for this kind of material shines brightly, almost compensating for any shortcomings, alongside the fact that he wasn’t afraid to throw in copious amounts of gore and nudity to shock or titillate where relevant. Though his work is hardly the epitome of originality, usually being a strange concoction of other people’s ideas (probably a side effect of writing films like El Espanto... in two days), it's as if he imagined how a Universal monster movie might have appeared had the studio injected it with visible bloodshed and female flesh, then making something that approximated that ideology. Sometimes he was egocentric (often playing principal dual roles, one good and one evil as he does here) and manifested his fantasies on screen (he brushes off beautiful women or takes them as he pleases), but he was a likeable fella who contributed much to exploitation cinema and remains loved by many for both his persona and work. His usual formula is adopted for El Espanto…, taking elements of witchcraft, vampirism, reincarnation, zombies (the latter resulting in the film’s best, if brief, sequence) and grinding them together to produce a world where almost anything goes, however it’s as schizophrenic as this may sound.

Hugo (Naschy) is, when it comes to the supernatural, a stereotype non-believer who is about to have his fixed perspective twisted way out of shape as the rebirth of his ancestor brings about doom to everything around him. One particular aspect of this film I really like is the setting: driving off into the mountains they’re pretty much isolated from the rest of mankind and almost seem to have entered another sinister dimension where they become incarcerated. Their car is hijacked and ruined during the trip and they’re forced to buy an old banger from some locals which looks more like a hearse - Hugo manages to see the bright side of this incident! From there they realise that they’re trapped in/around the castle with limited rations and a growing threat to their lives as terrible things begin happening around them.  Hugo is himself the catalyst for all of this, first as he insists on summoning forth his ancestor at the séance, then when he drags his friends on a weekend adventure that will only lead to devastation, though considering Maurice seems to be bowing to the influence of demonic infiltration himself even before the trip, perhaps it isn’t entirely Hugo’s fault after all: Alaric may be exerting influence beyond the grave or maybe it’s simply uncontrollable fate at work. Referring to the previous comment about female flesh, there are some incredibly beautiful women omnipresent in this movie and this is part of the appeal I’m not remotely ashamed to say! Clothed scenes were filmed for less tolerant markets (included as an extra on the BCI/Deimos disc) and are comparatively boring once you’ve seen the ‘proper’ (export) version, the main presentation of the disc. Leading up to a fantastically downbeat climax El Espanto… thrives on its own rules and is consequently very enjoyable.

Several releases on DVD existed, primarily in the US: Brentwood once put out one of their typically messy discs, followed by Crash Cinema’s SE which compiled several versions of the film; cut, uncut and clothed. The prints used weren’t of a high standard (the uncut version faring the worst) plus the audio tracks were English dubs only, however the fact that Crash had brought together all of this material together was commendable. BCI/Deimos effectively trumped that one with the uncut unclothed version being presented on their DVD, which I picked up in 2008 and have enjoyed ever since.  It boasted a pleasing 1.85:1 anamorphic image with savored options to listen in either English or Castilian (English subtitles available) - a major bonus. There’s also an audio/text commentary, a nice introduction by Naschy himself, some extensive liner notes and one or two other titbits rounding out a fine set. I must comment on the BCI/Deimos cover designs: I think they were perceptively conceived and really attractive on the eye. With this series of Spanish Horror releases, the company were an exceptional contributor to DVD horror back in the boom days. Additionally, the book-style menu designs were among the most imaginative ever put on to disc, I still love them.  Considering the film here is an odd but highly likable entry from the Spanish seventies/eighties cycle (now probably my favourite period), this DVD is well worth adding to related collections.

Note that this DVD was technically superseded in 2017 by Scream's Blu-ray set (The Paul Naschy Collection, Volume 1), although that package contained, I believe, transfers from the same High Definition masters that BCI prepared, thus that collection of films did not contain the traditionally enhanced Blu-ray viewing experiences that for me warranted upgrading.  The Volume 2 collection is more relevant, containing as it does several Naschy films that I personally found harder to obtain (at least in decent versions) until the set arrived.