* indicates that this title is also available to stream, rent, or purchase on various platforms. Please note that streaming presentations may differ from these home video releases.
“The Warriors” * (1979, Arrow Video) Thrilling, audacious, and frequently bizarre action-thriller from director Walter Hill (“Streets of Fire”), who takes a relatively simple premise – a street gang must flee New York City, with hordes of rival gangs in pursuit – and bends it into a quasi-Western that, at various times, apes classical Greek drama, overheated juvenile delinquent pictures, elements of “Hair,” and the most overripe Marvel Comics titles. It shouldn’t work, but “The Warriors” is delivered with a straight face and considerable technical bravado, which overcomes its occasional dips into weird fantasy; Arrow Video’s Limited Edition Blu-ray is the Compleat Warriors, bundling crisp 4K UHD presentations of the theatrical cut and much-deliberated Director’s Cut (which drives home the comic book influences, often to distraction) and adding commentary by critic Walter Chaw (on the theatrical cuts) and interviews with Hill, co-writer David Shaber, editor Billy Weber and (best of all) costume designer Bobbie Mannix, whose production sketches are also included. A roundtable discussions brings together several fillmmakers, including Lexi Alexander (“Green Street”) and Josh Olson (“A History of Violence”), to pay homage to the film, while archival featurettes detail the very difficult production history. Liner notes include another interview with Hill and a very insightful essay by my friend, critic and historian Dennis Cozzalio.
“Mondo New York” (1988, MVD Visual) A tour through the city’s various Downtown/underground scenes, done by, among others, Stuart S. Shapiro of “Night Flight,” in the style of the lurid ’60s-era Italian faux “mondo” documentaries. The lurid side of “Mondo New York” is largely relegated to a tasteless fabricated moment purporting to depict human trafficking, though others may also relegate Joe Coleman’s mice-biting, self-detonating Professor Momboozo act (a rooster also meets an untimely end in footage of a voodoo ceremony) and tours of various dungeons and adult clubs to that category. Other acts find more palatable (but still arresting) ways to confront societal norms: some are ferocious, like Karen Finley and Emilio Cuberio, while others take a more playful approach: Joey Arias in mermaid gear, paraplegic artist Frank Moore wrapped in plastic wrap by Annie Sprinkle and others, and a charming Ann Magnuson performing poetry while (quite literally) beating a dead horse. Others take bites of both approaches, like the late Charlie Barnett and Rick Aviles executing the comedy equivalent of a full-court press on passers-by in Washington Square Park. The jaded may scoff at considering these showcases as art until they consider how much of it (and similar work) wields influence over what we consider popular culture of the last three decades (see Billie Eilish, Lil Nas X, Lizzo, etc). MVD’s Collector’s Edition Blu-ray features a 2K restoration of the film, along with new interviews with Coleman, Shapiro, and Shanna Laumeister, who serves as the film’s silent audience surrogate; a CD of the soundtrack, featuring Johnny Pacheco’s score and songs by, among others, Manitoba’s Wild Kingdom, John Sex, and Dean and the Weenies, is also included.
“The Sinister Dr. Orloff” (1982, Mondo Macabro) Sequel of sorts to “The Awful Dr. Orlof,” the film that put absurdly prolific Spanish exploitation filmmaker Jesus (Jess) Franco on the map. Howard Vernon, the original Dr. O (now with two F’s) returns here with another diabolical transferral scheme, though this time it’s the souls (or something like that) of various youing women that he seeks in order to revive his wife (Rocio Frexias). The lion’s share of the dirty work is handled by Orloff’s son (Antonio Mayans), whose brutish exterior appears irresistible to the female population of a small seaside town (played in part by Alicante, Spain). As with many of Franco’s films from the 1980s, his emphasis in “Orloff” is on atmosphere and image over story – a shrewd choice, given that there isn’t much plot to speak of, but also wise in investing the film with a sort of narcotized dreamlogic (helped immeasurably by the grainy haze of Kodak film stock); it retains interest when the particulars of the Orloffs’ scheme slips from the viewer’s grasp. Mondo Macabro’s region-free Blu-ray – which marks the title’s first authorized U.S. home video release – includes commentary by Franco biography Stephen Thrower (with Nathaniel Thompson), who’s also featured in a lengthy interview; both are a wealth of information for Franco-philes on the director’s eclectic career arc in the ’80s. A lengthy and far-ranging interview with Mayans, much of which details Franco’s guerrilla filmmaking tactics, is also included.
“Count Dracula” (1970, Severin Films) * Surprisingly faithful Spanish adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Gothic novel, with Christopher Lee playing the count as the author envisioned him – an elderly, imperious man who grows younger after draining each victim – Herbert Lom as his foe, Dr. Van Helsing, and Klaus Kinski as the madman, Renfield, under Dracula’s sway. The adherence to Stoker’s plot, the presence of the three leads, all with considerable horror movie cache, and several rousing sequences (including the final pursuit) may please most Dracula/vampire devotees who have grown to accept condensed versions or left-field re-imaginings (like the Coppola “Dracula” and recent and bizarre BBC production). It may even help them see past the film’s failings, which boil down to the low budget, sluggish pace, and director Jess Franco’s eccentricities – his perverse over-reliance on the zoom lens and a sequence in which taxidermied animals appear to revive and attack Van Helsing and Jonathan Harker (Jack Taylor). Severin has delivered what must be the final word on “Count Dracula” with a staggering four-disc Blu-ray/4K UHD set featuring a near-flawless remastered image with English and Spanish audio options. The UHD and Blu-ray film presentations include commentary by David Del Valle and co-star Maria Rohm, who reveals a wealth of information on working with Franco, her co-stars, and her husband, the notorious producer Harry Alan Towers. Lee and Franco’s perspectives are preserved in lengthy archival video and audio interviews, while co-stars Taylor and Fred Williams are featured in newer conversations. Most of these participants also turn up in a feature-length documentary about the film, while Franco biographer Stephen Thrower gets a sizable showcase to delve even deeper into making-of territory. A brief interview with actor/writer Alain Petit and international trailers round out the video presentation, while a CD of Bruno Nicolai’s effective, Eastern European-tinged score (with ten bonus tracks) closes out this impressive set.
