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“Friday the 13th” * (2009, Arrow Video) Polished studio revamp of the enduring slasher franchise attempts to lend context to its slaughter parade – specifically, that masked killer Jason (played here by Derek Mears) was motivated by the murder of his mother, who was herself responsible for the death of counselors at Camp Crystal Lake – before settling into kill spree territory. A high-gloss “Friday” from, among others, director Marcus Nispel and producer Michael Bay (and series creator Sean S. Cunningham as co-producer), may not be a selling point for horror fans – Nispel/Bay produced an equally upscale remake of “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” to no good end – and their take, while visually attractive (thanks to cinematographer Daniel Pearl) and quite gruesome, can’t quite surpass or reproduce the Big Dumb Fun and chief appeal of the original “Friday” films (Nispel is a particularly dour and humorless filmmaker). Others may find its lack of kitsch and relentless approach a draw, and to that end, Arrow’s 2-disc, 4K Ultra HD presentation offers a comprehensive package of “Friday” ’09. Both the theatrical version and a longer, gorier “Killer Cut” are included, along with new commentaries by and interviews with Nispel, Pearl, writers Mark Swift and Damian Shannon, as well as a track with historians Alexandra-Heller Nicolas and Josh Nelson. Archival material includes several making-of featurettes with cast and crew interviews, a showcase of its murder set pieces, deleted scenes, and extensive liner notes.
“Macbeth” (1948, Kino Lorber) Effective exercise in budget Gothic Expressionism from Orson Welles, who filmed his adaptation of the Shakespeare play on sets left over from Republic’s B-Westerns. The artifice works, for the most part; Welles’ Scotland looks unearthly and the sort of place where witchcraft and ghosts might be part of the everyday fabric. The shadow-steeped cinematography by John L. Russell (“Psycho”) certainly plays a large part, as does Welles’ brutish Macbeth and Jeanette Nolan’s fearsome Lady Macbeth (which marked her film debut), both of which drive home Welles’ intent for the film to be a cross between “Wuthering Heights” and “The Bride of Frankenstein.” Unfortunately, neither critics nor Republic appreciated Welles’ supernatural-heavy approach: the press howled at the cast’s Scottish accents, prompting the studio to push for a redub and trim nearly 20 minutes from the running time, which in turn helped to further usher Welles out of the spotlight. Welles’ “Macbeth” has enjoyed reappraisal in the ensuing decades, and those who favor his supernatural-heavy approach will appreciate Kino’s two-disc Special Edition, which bundles the original and theatrical cuts (with the latter receiving a 4K restoration). Observant new commentary by Tim Lucas accompanies an archival track by historian Joseph McBride, while observations on the film, Welles’s career, Republic Pictures, and the restoration are offered by the late Peter Bogdanovich, UCLA preservationist Robert Gitt, and others.
“Dr. Butcher, MD/Zombi Holocaust” * (1980, Severin Films) The discovery of cannibals in the New York City morgue spurs an expedition to the South Pacific, where intrepid Ian McCullouch and frequent screaming Alexandra Delli Colli discover not only a man-eating Stone Age tribe but also zombies, the latter the product of grizzled mad scientist Donald O’Brien. Italian-made horror is perhaps one of the purest examples of the grindhouse aesethetic, favoring a non-stop parade of exploitative thrills culled from multiple subgenres over plot logic or cohesion; “Holocaust” found further favor on the drive-in circuit when Stateside distributor Aquarius Releasing tacked on a new score and an unrelated prologue (featuring zombie footage by Roy Frumkes), and issued the film as “Dr. Butcher MD” (Medical Deviate, mais oui), which was promoted in New York using a flatbed truck and actors miming grisly surgery. Severin’s four-disc set is perhaps the most complete presentation of “Dr. Butcher” on the market, offering both UHD and Blu-ray presentations of both “Butcher” and “Zombi” with a staggering amount of extras: Frumkes is featured in a visit to 42nd Street with Chris Poggiali as well as a Zoom interview about his zombie footage and outtakes from the unfinished product, while “Fangoria” mainstay Michael Gingold visits NYC locations used in “Butcher” and other Italian films. Co-star Sherry Buchanan, FX head Rosario Prestopino and FX artist Maurizio Traini discuss their participation in the film, while “Inglorious Bastards” director Enzo Castellari talks about its director, his father, Mario Girolami. The late Rick Sullivan of Gore Gazette discusses his role in the “Butchermobile” promo (with Michael J. Weldon of Psychotronic Video), while distributor Terry Levene and “Dr. Butcher” editor Jim Marcovic provide additional perspective. Rounding out the set are U.S. and European trailers and even McCulloch’s 1964 single “Down By the River.”
“Fata Morgana” (1966, Mondo Macabro) Fashion model Gim (played by fashion model Terersa Gimpera) ignores the strange phenomena plaguing Barcelona – a wave of citizens fleeing the city and a serial killer on the loose – to find her missing boyfriend (Alberto Dalbes) while avoiding the unwanted en masse attention of various men. Curious but visually compelling Spanish experiment from director Vicente Aranda, who traversed the arthouse (“Lovers: A True Story”) and grindhouse (“The Blood-Spattered Bride”) throughout his long career; “Morgana” employs a wide and frequently offbeat array of pop culture prisms (comic books, advertising) to suggest the poisonous influence of the male gaze and the objectification of women, with the most overt instance a scene in which a trio of goons cut out and abscond an oversized image of Gimpera from a billboard. That’s not to say that “Morgan” is an academic screed: Aranda’s busy, buoyant visual palette is complemented by striking images (a figure bandaged a la the Invisible Man) and a vibrant jazz score by Antonio Perez Olea. Mondo Macabro’s Blu-ray delivers a 2K restoration (which boosts Aranda’s Pop Art color scheme) with informative commentary by critic Rachael Nisbit, an interview with the late Gimpera, and observations by Stiges Film Festival organizer Angel Sala, who discusses Aranda’s role in the Barcelona School of Film and its wildly creative endeavors.
“Vampir-Cuadecuc/Umbracle” * (1970/1972, Severin Films) Back in 2018, I covered Second Run’s release of “Vampir-Cuadecuc,” Spanish director Pere Portabella’s experimental feature constructed from behind-the-scenes footage from Jess Franco’s “Count Dracula,” with stars Christopher Lee, Herbert Lom, and Soledad Miranda in various stages of performance and production. My write-up also applies for Severin’s Blu-ray release: “‘Cuadecuc’ (a Catalan term for either a ‘worm’s tail’ or the unexposed end of a film roll) is… a lyrical, occasionally playful meditation on film artifice and atmosphere, with the high-constrast cinematography creating a faux Gothic aura around Franco’s threadbare horror trappings.” Severin’s Blu-ray also includes Portabella’s “Umbracle,” an even more experimental feature with Lee looking typically suave and imposing as he navigates a Barcelona set alight with various film stocks and visual processes (he also sings opera and reads Poe). Between these scenes, Portabella inserts clips from a pro-Generalissimo Franco film (bumping up against a discussion of censorship under said dictator), footage of an imagined kidnapping, and other seemingly ephemeral elements. Both “Cuadecuc” and “Umbracle” are supposed to evoke opposition to the Spanish Fascist regime, but “Umbracle” drives home the point with greater emphasis; sound, image, and editing are manipulated to disorient and frustrate the viewer from perceiving what they are seeing – a fairly on-the-money metaphor for creativity during wartime. Severin’s Blu-ray includes an interview with Spanish film scholar Dr. Alex Mendibil and liner notes, by among others, Portabella himself and critic Jonathan Rosenbaum.
