* indicates that this title is also available to rent, stream, or purchase on various platforms. Please note that streaming options may differ from these home video presentations in terms of visuals, supplemental features, etc.
“Abigail” * (2024, Universal Home Entertainment) A kidnapping scheme goes from bad to worse when the mismatched conspirators discover that their young victim (Alisha Weir) is not only the daughter of a fearsome crime lord, but is also something far older and more deadly than a precocious, ballet-loving pre-teen. Amusing horror-comedy from the Radio Silence duo (“Scream 6”) benefits from a uniformly solid cast – including Dan Stevens (adding another entry to his growing list of screen eccentrics), Melissa Barrera, Kathryn Newton, and an elegantly menacing Giancarlo Esposito – who navigate the tart, faux-tough dialogue with particular relish. Their presence also helps when the film’s momentum slows to focus solely on geysers of gore, but the real selling point is Irish actress Weir (“Matilda the Musical”) in the title role, a morbidly funny riff on the manic, whipsawing moods, and open disdain for adults displayed by all middle schoolers.Universal’s Blu-ray/DVD/digital combo includes several making-of docs (including one focused on the blood-soaked FX), deleted scenes (one of which links Matthew Goode’s cameo as Abigail’s father to an iconic monster in Universal’s stable), and commentary by the filmmakers.
“Demons”/”Demons 2” * (1985/1986, Synapse Films) Theatergoers at Berlin’s Metropol movie palace discover that the evening’s entertainment – a cheap horror pic about teenagers uprooting the grave of Nostradamus – causes members of the audience to messily transform into bloodthirsty monsters. Italian gorefest from director Lamberto (son of Mario) Bava and producer/co-writer Dario Argento has all the earmarks of ’80s low-budget genre titles – paper-thin or risible characters, free-floating plot structure, an intrusive soundtrack (featuring Saxon, Accept, and Billy Idol) – but is also frenetic good fun for grindhouse devotees, with Sergio Stivaletti’s special effects a goopy, gruesome highlight. Synapse’s newly remastered 4K UHD presentation features a flabbergasting amount of extras: new and vintage commentaries (the former by critics Kat Ellinger and Heather Draine, the latter with Bava, Stivaletti, co-star Geretta Geretta, and composer Claudio Simonetti of Goblin), interviews with Argento, Luigi Cozzi, and Stivaletti, and both the Italian and (shorter) US cuts. Synapse also has a 4KUHD disc of “Demons 2,” which moves the action to a high-rise apartment but maintains the lunatic pace and effects. Plenty of extras there too, including commentary by Travis Crawford, interviews with Bava and composer Simon Boswell, and numerous video essays.
“The Woman”/”Offspring” * (2011/2009, Arrow Video) Deeply unsettling indie horror two-fer anchored by a ferocious turn by Pollyanna McIntosh as the matriarch of a primitive cannibal family prowling the American Northeast. First glimpsed in “Offspring,” an unremarkable but violent thriller penned by the late Jack Ketchum (who adapted his own novel), McIntosh took center stage in Lucky McKee’s far more polished (and alarming) sequel, “The Woman.” Sean Bridgers’s small town lawyer traps and abducts The Woman with the intention of “civilizing” her, but Bridgers’ home life and family (which includes the always excellent Angela Bettis) put The Woman’s carnivorous clan to shame with their deviant behavior. No-holds-barred in terms of extreme violence, “The Woman” eludes the grindhouse label by virtue of Ketchum and McKee’s scripting, which takes aim at the ugly underside of conservative “family values.” The Woman later returned in the McIntosh-directed “Darlin’,” which focused on Bridgers’ eldest daughter (Lauren Ashley Carter); the Arrow set features 4K restorations of both films as well as commentary by their major participants; extensive making-of docs, interviews with cast and crew, deleted scenes, a n animated short by “Woman” editor Zach Passero, and a 2011 panel discussion featuring McKee and van den Houten with “Maxxxine” director Ti West and Larry Fessenden (among others) round out this well-appointed set.
“We Go On” * (2016, Lightyear Entertainment) A paralyzing fear of death prompts agoraphobic editor Clark Freeman to offer $30,000 to anyone who can offer proof of the afterlife. With the help of his mother (Annette O’Toole, stealing the show as usual), he weeds out the crackpots and quacks before encountering an unassuming airport worker (Jay Dunn) who has direct access to a space between life and death. There is a catch, of course, and it proves the majority of shocks for this indie feature from writers/directors/editors Andy Mitton and Jesse Holland; as with their previous feature, “Yellowbrickroad,” “We Go On” is ambitious and aims for more than just a litany of jump scares; its intent is probably closer to more sober-minded procedural supernatural dramas like Robert Wise’s “The Haunting,” and while it manages to evoke an eerie atmosphere, it’s often undone by Freeman’s petulant character and a lack of focus in its final third that relies largely on a parade of actors in ghost/corpse makeup. Lightyear’s Special Edition Blu-ray features Mitton, VFX supervisor Jesse Holland, and Freeman and O’Toole on three separate commentary tracks; the remastered disc also features improved image and special effects as well as trailers.
“Blood Suckers” * (1971, Severin Films) British academic Patrick Mower goes missing in Greece, prompting a search by fiancee Madeleine Hinde, student Johnny Sekka, and foreign affairs minister Alexander Davion. What transpires is Mower’s involvement in a quasi-counterculture blood/sex cult with a penchant for human sacrifice, which Hinde and company attempt to counter with the help of British attache Patrick MacNee and vampirism expert Edward Woodward. Peter Cushing – arguably the marquee name in the pic, and the subject of Severin’s sprawling “Cushing Curiosities” box set, which includes an uncut version of “Blood Suckers” – is marginally involved in the action, but is obliquely acknowledged as the source of Mower’s bedroom issues; if this sounds confusing, you’re not alone, as the film – based loosely on Simon Raven’s novel “Doctors Wear Scarlet” – was subjected to considerable revisions by producers (which consisted largely of narration attempting to make sense of the story and lengthy psychedelic orgies) and was most likely abandoned during or after production by exploitation vet Robert Hartford-Davies (“Michael Burrowes” gets the helmer credit). Still, its mix of ingredients makes for an entertaining diversion for those in the mood for late ’60s British/Continental horror with lashings of psychsploitation and grindhouse aesthetics; Severin’s Blu-ray – culled primarily from the original negative – includes commentary by historians Jonathan Rigby and Kevin Lyons, who accomplish no mean feat in explaining the film’s torturous history and plot mechanics; Hartford-Davies’s eccentric life and career is profiled in interviews with his daughter, sound recordist Tony Dawe, and historian John Hamilton, as well as a 1961 short, “Stranger in the City,” about life in London for various demographics. An alternate title sequence (“Freedom Seeker”) and American theatrical trailer are also included.
“Road to Ruin” (1928/1934, Kino Lorber) Portrait of teenage downfall, precipitated by permissive attitudes towards smoking, drinking, and reading Flaubert, which in turn leads to sex, venereal disease, and ultimately, shame and death. Helen Foster is top-billed as sweet young Ann, whose inexplicable friendship with fast-lane Eve (Nell O’Day) puts her on the titular path; the road’s slope can be charitably described as slalom-like, since Ann careers from sips of booze and racy novels to non-consensual sex, syphilis, and a fatal backroom abortion in less than half of the film’s 62-minute running time. Co-director/writer Dorothy Davenport – who knew something about life’s perils after the drug-related death of her husband, actor/director Wallace Reid – appears briefly to push for sex education and moral fiber, but her point is largely lost in a torrent of spicy material, salted heavily with rigid judgement. Textbook example of Depression Era exploitation, which avoided the Motion Picture Production Code’s restrictions by couching its salacious wares in the garb of “education”; to its credit, “Road” has better production values than similar titles (see also: “Ingagi” and “She Should’a Said No!” also from Kino) and doesn’t try viewers’ patience as much those films by keeping wretched dialogue and performances to a minimum. Kino’s Blu-ray bundles restored versions of “Road” (courtesy of Something Weird Video and the UCLA Film & Television Archive) and its original 1928 silent version, also starring Helen Foster; commentary by vintage exploitation historians Anthony Slide (the ’28 version) and Eric Schaefer (’34), both of whom provide a wealth of info on the films and exploitation production in general. Trailers for other B&W exploitation titles in Kino’s library, such as “Marihuana” and “Narcotic,” are also featured.
