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.

Panic Beats

Paul's (Jacinto Molina/Paul Naschy) wife is undergoing life-threatening health problems when their doctor recommends that Paul takes her away from the city for the sake of her physical wellbeing.  Luckily Paul has retained an isolated rustic family property that is expected to serve just the trick, hence they promptly head out there for a few weeks or months, however long Geneviève needs to recuperate (although the doctor doesn't sound overly optimistic).  It's not exactly a good idea from the get-go.  The minute they're out in the country Paul has to head off for petrol, leaving his already nervous-wreck of a wife waiting in the car.  In true Spanish Horror fashion, there are bandits roaming the woods, and they quickly attempt to thieve what they can from the petrified Geneviève.  In true Paul Naschy movie fashion, he quickly reappears to save the day via beating two types of manure out of the bandits.  The flustered couple arrive at the old property later on in the midst of a thunderstorm, where the housekeeper and her recently appointed assistant are preparing vegetables, as one would.  It's not long before the ancient legend of Paul's ancestor, Alaric De Marnac, is proving to be problematic - he was reputed to have butchered his lover for loving someone else many centuries prior, and is now materialising every century or so to butcher another lover in the family line - that's Geneviève.  Several ghostly and bloody goings-on ensue, with poor Geneviève finding herself in a significantly more stressed and near-death state than she was back in the city!

A damned fun movie from Naschy's mid-eighties output, there are a whole bunch of great characters in here to take pleasure in watching suffer, make sweet lovin', etc.  Naschy does his old double role thing, playing both good guy and bad guy as well as bedding the best looking women in the movie.  In this case the bad guy - Alaric - has made an appearance before Panic Beats (AKA Latidos de Pánico), back in the early seventies classic Horror Rises from the Tomb.  Of course we all know Naschy liked to regurgitate ideas and that's all part of the artistic charm.  One of the things I love about this movie, aside from its melding of Gothic and Gore, is the fact that everybody seems to be double-crossing one another.  Alaric himself doesn't seem to so bad standing next to many of these characters - at least he was honest!  A nice score against the atmospheric backdrop rounds out one of Naschy's best horror excursions.

The only release I've ever seen of this is Mondo Macabro's classic DVD, which came out in 2005.  I bought it back then and have watched it quite a few times since, as the film is always a bit of a blast.  Very good for its time (twofold because, as always, they exhumed a nearly lost gem) the picture looks quite soft by today's standards, although it's nicely framed at 1.66:1.  I should imagine this 35mm 1983 production could look splendid on HD these days.  The audio on the disc was delivered in its original Spanish language track with optional English subtitles to help.  Extras consisted of a 20 minute Spanish Horror documentary (Caroline Munro: 'The first thing you notice over there is that they don't speak English...'), a half hour documentary on the director/lead man, plus a few other titbits.  Long out of print, as I say this was a legendary release by one of the great boutique labels.

Werewolf Shadow

Sometimes known (more so in the US) as Werewolf Versus The Vampire Woman (in reference to its climactic Frankenstein Meets The Wolf Man-style showdown) and La Noche de Walpurgis (Night of Walpurgis) in its native Spain, this Waldemar Daninsky outing was the first pairing of horror icons Paul Naschy and León Klimovsky (the latter actually an Argentinian, whose career evolved between the countries).  In classic fashion two doctors foolishly remove the silver bullets embedded in the chest of inert Daninsky, this act reviving him as the werewolf and thus bringing an abrupt end to the lives of the two men present in the morgue.  Later on a couple of nubile students are on a research mission to find the burial site of Countess Wandessa, someone who was killed centuries before and rumoured to be a vampire.  They meet Daninsky, who has set himself up in a lonely castle.  Hitching up at his place for a few days they eventually locate Wandessa, proceeding to pull out the silver dagger that's keeping her in a corpse-like state (despite the fact that they know of the legend).  Wandessa is alive once again and menacing the occupants of the castle, which ultimately leads to a battle between the blood-sucking countess and the werewolf.

A lovely little film from 1971 demonstrating some great atmospheric sequences, particularly once the undead Wandessa appears on the scene - Klimovsky was brilliant at this sort of creepiness despite being quite an old man by the time he made this.  It can be argued that it is overall low on velocity, although underlying this is essentially Naschy's desire to remake Universal's classic monster movies albeit with boobs and blood (who can argue with that concoction?).  As always, Naschy gets the beautiful babe (and there are several to choose from in this picture, including luscious Barbara Capell, who looks even better once she joins the legions of the undead!).  Reportedly Naschy wrote this film but nearly lost out on the main role to a younger, better looking actor.  Thankfully this decision was overturned by the German backers to the film, thus the legacy of the character was granted longevity that really lasts until this day with a number of harder core Spanish horror fans.

Anchor Bay US restored this film to its original Spanish glory in the early part of the Millennium, and this DVD from the legendary but ill-fated BCI Eclipse essentially replicated the earlier disc.  The long out-of-print DVD from BCI presents the film in either Spanish or English (with some Spanish) language plus English subtitles.  The disc also contains the shorter US cut (which some viewers prefer) in a much more battered-looking version.  Incidentally, many actors actually spoke in English while the film was being shot, as it was intended to export this from the beginning.

The main feature on the disc looks okay, with some jagged edges and awful day-for-night photography that surely should have been re-graded?  Otherwise viewed on a decent TV albeit from a distance the standard definition image is certainly passable with some nice colours and contrast.  A new Blu-ray restoration would naturally, as always, be very welcome.  The disc also came in a slipcase-enclosed amaray that contained a booklet with a pretty decent essay about the film and its history on home video.  BCI were a godsend and would truly have more than hailed in the HD collectors era with the many great films they gave life to on DVD.

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.

Curse of the Devil

1973, Spain, Directed by Carlos Aured
Colour, Running Time: 84 minutes
Review Source: DVD, R1, Anchor Bay; Video: Anamorphic 1.85:1, Audio: DD Mono

Following indirectly on from several earlier films Curse of the Devil continues the mythic saga of Waldemar Daninsky. In the middle ages one of Daninsky’s ancestors is cursed by a worshipper of Satan as the love-loving witch is burned at the stake, a curse that is intended to be carried down through the generations until the ‘present day’ where we catch up with the aristocratic Waldemar as he roams the woods shooting at stray wolves. At a local black mass orgy Satan himself makes an appearance, sending one of his females on a mission to infect Waldemar with the werewolf virus by having him bitten with the skull (!) of a wolf, after the woman has made love to him of course. Elsewhere there is a lunatic on the loose, randomly chopping up various people with an axe - as Waldemar gradually begins transforming into a werewolf the homicidal activities of man and beast segue into one another as townspeople speculate whether the perpetrator is human or not.

Whilst the continuity of the film is slightly uneven in places, events and people jumping around almost to suit the requirements of a chaotic narrative, compensation materialises in the form of a satisfactory supernatural ambience as well as a dose of directorial panache (Aured made a number of good films with Paul Naschy, including Horror Rises From The Tomb). As with the other Daninsky films that I’ve seen (not all of them are easy to locate) Curse of the Devil (or El Retorno de Walpurgis) happily sits within an odd universe all of its own creation, mixing up its own rules and forcing its dazed inhabitants to abide by them. The eventual manner in which the werewolf (played by Paul Naschy as always) is introduced is gradual and non-sensationalist - our first glimpse of him/it is from a distance as he slaughters two villagers, with no clear view of his features. As the mayhem snowballs Waldemar himself (in between love-making sessions with other women) is falling for a woman he saves in the woods, a prerequisite no doubt designed to add to the inherently tragic nature of the character. In fact she plays a greater role than mere love interest, actually becoming pregnant with the child that she ultimately retells the tale to in flashback, in addition to becoming instrumental in the werewolf’s fate, as he was in hers. She’s quite a tough soul too - despite being confronted with violent death in the family, discovering a man with his head squashed by a rock, etc., she seems remarkably unperturbed by her exposure to the terrors of the countryside. Despite her apparently unfeeling nature Waldemar becomes involved with her nonetheless, and thus his ultimate destiny is cemented. The werewolf himself is quite an uncanny creation, modelled by Naschy’s own admission on the Lawrence Talbot character of Universal’s The Wolf Man and its sequels. He won’t exactly put the frights up anyone nowadays but his inhuman ghastliness is an acknowledgeable factor that makes him compulsively viewable - these films are pleasingly addictive. The ominous rural locations are a suitable boost to the hostile world, enveloping the characters in a mysterious bubble from which there’s no real escape. Naschy achieved what he set out to do: update Universal’s formula with added sex and gore for a modern audience, and in the process he pretty much kick-started the Spanish horror movie industry that would bring us so many cool films along the way. Curse of the Devil is a surprisingly violent entry in the series considering when it was made, it features sizzling Euro women in various states of undress, Naschy’s doomed werewolf, an alien world, and a mob of angry villagers to boot - just about all the ingredients one needs for a good night in!

There are two US DVD releases of this that are worth considering and relatively easy to obtain: Anchor Bay’s disc features a detailed print with an almost sepia colour scheme that seems to aid the otherworldly story, but alas there is only an ugly English dub to listen to. Actually it’s not that bad compared to many I’ve heard but given a choice I’d take the Spanish dub every time. BCI Eclipse’s Spanish genre series (sadly long defunct) put out the same film with a slightly inferior transfer in all respects (in fact after the first batch hit the streets a number of technical corrections were made before a reissue) but with a choice between Spanish or English soundtracks, therefore it’s down to personal requirements which disc would be more suitable. Extras are slim in either case. If you know what to expect from Paul Naschy and in particular his peculiar Waldemar Daninsky werewolf series then Curse of the Devil won’t be a complete surprise, but it’s an appropriately morbid part of the franchise that should please fans.

Dr Jekyll Versus The Werewolf

1972, Spain, Directed by Leon Klimovsky
Colour, Running Time: 83 minutes
Review Source: DVD, R2, Mondo Macabro; Video: Anamorphic 1.66:1, Audio: DD Mono

Somewhere in mid London (subtly hinted at with an opening shot of Big Ben…) a bunch of toffs are enjoying a little party where eminent hunter and host Kosta is showing off his collection of severed animal heads, which are boastful evidence of his bravely bloodthirsty exploits in foreign lands. The party is also attended to by Dr Jekyll, a practising doctor who jests about the existence of werewolves upon seeing one of the wolf heads. Kosta pines for his Hungarian homeland, somewhere in Transylvania apparently, and soon arranges a driving trip with his wife Justine (a woman who seems to be loved by all of the main male characters) to visit the village of the hunter’s origin. Upon arrival in the land lost in time they’re warned at a tavern not to stop by the old graveyard where Kosta says his family are buried.  Furthermore there’s talk of a nearby castle where the owner is a “monster”, also in the presence of one Ms Bathory… Needless to say the couple do not heed any warnings (he’s not travelled several hundred miles in an old Jag just to be scared off by some crazy villager) and wandering around the graveyard they’re attacked by bandits - known raiders that roam the hills in search of loot alongside a bit of female flesh. Kosta is brutally murdered in the process but Justine is saved by strapping Waldermar Daninsky who, exercising necessary self defence to the minimum, smashes a bandit’s head in with a heavy boulder. It soon materialises that the reclusive Daninsky has his own problems and each full moon brings about a werewolf transformation that he’s desperate to see the back of. Justine mentions that she knows of a great doctor in London and begs him to come back for treatment. Quickly falling in love with one another (this woman wastes no time clearly) they head off in a rush when they realise the angry villagers have formed a lynch mob and want Daninsky’s blood spread over the castle grounds. Escaping back to London the couple seek out the help of Dr Jekyll, who has the crack-headed idea of injecting Daninsky with the serum that his grandfather developed, turning the foreigner into Mr Hyde (as if he didn’t have enough shit on his plate), thereby somehow causing him and the werewolf to battle before an antidote is administered to leave a cured Daninsky… eh?!? They actually go ahead with this insane scheme and soon London is the alternating hunting ground of a nasty Mr Hyde and the bloodthirsty werewolf.

To say this is a mixing pot of a plethora of ideas is a bit of an understatement - characters routinely theorise about what’s going on with unrestrained imagination; one villager reckons that the castle is inhabited by Countess Bathory, an evil witch who, if you catch her eye, will curse you forever in a glance - that’s not how I remember the Bathory legend! There’s also mention of vampires upon revelation that Kosta wants to go back to Transylvania - with everything else going on it’s actually surprising that one didn’t show up. We even get a deformed leper who initially scares the snobby couple from England, later assisting Daninsky with such routine tasks as burying corpses. The settings for each act are similarly chaotic - we go from swinging seventies London to Transylvania, which seems like some medieval world where villagers are clothed in rags and sit in taverns with no electricity. Later on we’re back in modern London and Jekyll’s laboratory where we’re almost plunged into science fiction territory with flashing lights, strange sounds, and a strapped down guinea pig being transformed from one monster to another. Then, once Hyde has been on the move for a while, the streets of London are fog enshrouded and the attempted murder of a drunken bystander results in police whistles as if we’ve gone back a hundred years! All of this makes one shake the cranium in disbelief at times, but it also produces quite a pleasurable, if schizophrenic ride, through genre ideas that were either implemented in a sense of fun, or simply misunderstood by the writers. Having said all that, there are moments of acknowledgeable proficiency as displayed periodically by director Klimovsky in other films: the awakening of Justine in the centuries old castle and her subsequent meandering through the dark corridors by candlelight is exceedingly spooky, and similarly the locations used for Transylvania’s barren landscapes, its graveyard and castle, are incredibly cold and desolate. The windswept, intermittently snowy regions are the perfect backdrop for the half hour dark ages-style segment of the story that takes place there. The score is supplied by Antón García Abril, a composer known for his versatility as he worked in anything from operas to many a good Spanish horror film. His work here is nicely executed and enhances a number of sequences such as the aforementioned castle exploration.

The main problem for me is Daninsky’s werewolf - despite supposedly being the star of the show, the creature is frustratingly ineffectual here, staggering impotently about as if he doesn’t know what to do and lumbering towards victims with a distinct lack of velocity or aggression. The London disco set piece is a consequential lost opportunity - the werewolf appears in the club, panic ensues as everyone scrambles for the exit, and… that’s it! No massacre, no pile of torn up bodies, nothing! I think the problem is a combination of slow editing and Klimovsky’s absent knack for action. Hyde is actually more potent - a sinister individual who at least looks like he might cause violent havoc (and proving this at one point by strangling a prostitute with her own stocking). There’s lots to smile at in the film - I particularly like the way Justine goes off to Transylvania with one man and comes back after the former’s death with another, and nobody seems to bat an eyelid! Whilst not one of the greatest Spanish genre films around, there’s so much going on in Dr Jekyll Versus The Werewolf (or Dr. Jekyll Y El Hombre Lobo) it’s difficult not to find it a little bit endearing, even if it doesn’t really hit all of its copious targets. The wonderful Mondo Macabro rescued it from obscurity albeit in its domestic ‘clothed’ variety - admittedly unfortunate, however, just about all of the other boxes are ticked. Audio is provided as Spanish language (adequately translated with English subtitles), an original 1.66:1 aspect ratio (i.e. slightly window-boxed) is presented with very attractive image quality that stands up admirably to large screen projection, and a few extras include text history of Spanish horror and a twenty minute video interview with Paul Naschy. I believe the DVD is out of print so it may cost a bit to pick it up nowadays - even a couple of years ago I don’t think I could get it for less than ten or eleven pounds. Regardless, as a fan of Euro horror I consider this a cool disc to have in my collection and another plus for Mondo Macabro.