Brief Soapbox Moment: Movies have always been, for me, a source of entertainment, of enlightenment, cultural expansion, and at certain times, a great comfort and solace. The right movie under the proper conditions can remind us that the complicated and confusing and tragic things in life can be overcome through a combination of honesty, bravery, ingenuity, good luck, and the occasional smart hustle. In light of recent events, I hope that the movies I write about here – even the ridiculous ones – will provide you with some comfort and solace in difficult moments to come, and I am grateful to Elise, Bob, and the rest of the Los Angeles Beat family for providing me a space to talk about them for so many years.
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“The Classic Ghosts: 1970s Gothic Television” (1973, Kino Lorber) Quintet of feature-length supernatural stories broadcast as part of ABC’s now largely forgotten late-night showcase “Wide World of Mystery.” Filmed live and on two-inch videotape, the films offer an impressive roster in front of the camera – Susan Sarandon in “The Haunting of Rosalind,” David McCallum in “The Screaming Skull,” and Gwen Verdon in “The Deadly Visitor” – while direction is handled by TV vets Gloria Monty (“General Hospital”) and “Dark Shadows” helmers Lela Swift and Henry Kaplan. Most of the stories transcend the limitations of television with solid pacing and suspense and impressive production values, and if not particularly terrifying, they do deliver the satisfying unease that an effective ghost story should produce. All of the films were remastered by the UCLA Film and Television Archive, whose work is described in interviews with heads Mark Quigley and Maya Montanez Smukler; TV historian Amanda Reyes is also on hand for perspective.
“Spider Labyrinth” * (1988, Severin Films) American academic Roland Wybenga really dislikes spiders, which proves a roadblock in his collaboration with a colleague whose research into pre-Christian cults results in his death in a giant web; with the help of the colleague’s clothing-adverse assistant (Paolo Rinaldi), Wybenga discovers the cults and their spidery adherents may still be active. Released at an ebb point in Italian horror film history, Gianfranco Giagni’s “Spider Labyrinth” (his sole feature directorial effort) is a atmospheric fusion of then-recent and new genre tropes – specifically, elements of the proto-slasher gialli and the wave of interest in H.P. Lovecraft’s folk/cosmic horror. Both sides blend well, thanks to Giagni’s assured hand, and hold interest through lashes of gore, measured suspense, and startling imagery (including some wild stop-motion effects) when the plot threatens to tilt into incoherence; Severin’s 4K/Blu-ray release includes commentary, interviews with Giagni, Rinaldi, writer Gianfranco Manfredi, DP Nino Celeste, and FX creator Sergio Stivaletti, as well as a video essay which argues that “Labyrinth” fits into the “weird” fiction tradition.
“Creature with the Blue Hand”/”Web of the Spider” (1967/1970, Film Masters) Double bill from Film Masters of European productions featuring the unnerving presence of Klaus Kinski. “Blue Hand” is one of the many German adaptations of author Edgar Wallace’s crime thrillers, here with Kinski as twin brothers, one of whom has fled an asylum and returned home to his family’s English manor, where a masked fiend is dispatching the occupants with a blue spiked glove. “Blue Hand” is part and parcel with the late ’60s krimis (the umbrella term for the West German Wallace adaptations), freely spinning the author’s traditional mystery plot into a heady mix of noir and pulp thriller tropes, Old Dark House horror, and flirtations with sex and sadism, tricked out in a riot of color visuals and an equally caffeinated pop-jazz score (by Martin Bottcher), all of which weighed heavily in the development of Italian gialli a decade later (and American slasher films, though several times removed). The horror elements are minimal (though an American version, “The Bloody Dead,” which is included in the two-disc set, added gloppy gore) but the entertainment value is high, especially for those curious about krimi or who favor ’60s-era thrills. Kinski takes a supporting role in “Web of the Spider,” playing a very Goth Edgar Allan Poe in director Antonio Margheriti’s color remake of his own “Castle of Blood” from ’64. Here, as before, a skeptical stranger (Anthony Franciosa) accepts Poe’s challenge to spend the night in a haunted house, where he encounters not standard-issue spooks but comely Michele Mercier and an odd collection of relative and retainers, all of whom are, of course, Not As They Seem. “Web” looks great – Film Masters’ 4K scans vastly improves both films’ eerie color schemes – and delivers modest Gothic chills but can’t surpass the doomstruck atmosphere of “Castle” and the icy allure of its key player, Barbara Steele. Film Masters presents both films in English language dubs with commentary by the redoubtable Kim Newman and Stephen Jones; exploitation producer Sam Sherman lends brief commentary to “Bloody Dead,” and there are featurettes on Wallace, krimi, “Bloody Dead” outtakes, English language trailers, and informative liner notes.
“Tomie” * (1999, Arrow Video) First of nine (!) Japanese films based on the grisly manga by Junji Ito (“Uzumaki”) with actress/J-pop singer Miho Kanno in the title role: a young woman whose seemingly irresistible appearance masks her limitless capacity for not only destroying anyone in her path, but also regenerating in order to carry out this pursuit over decades and even centuries. Mani Nakamura and Takashi Miike regular Tomorowo Taguichi are the former friend and detective, respec; tively, pulled into Tomie’s relentless orbit; director Ataru Oikawa tones down the graphic violence (and not-so-subtextual fear of women) in Ito’s comic in favor of slow-boiling suspense and unsettling visuals (the head in the bag is a memorable image); the final result may lack the nerve-rattling impact of the big Asian horror titles of the period (“Ringu,” “Ju-On: The Grudge”), but Tomie’s diabolical determination makes her one of the subgenre’s most memorable antagonists. Arrow’s Limited Edition hi-def release – the first American Blu-ray for “Tomie” – includes commentary by Japanese film historian Amber T, interviews with Oikawa, Nakamura, and producer Mikihiko Hirate, and promotional material
“Night of the Blood Beast/Attack of the Giant Leeches” * (1958/1959, Film Masters) Another double bill this time two low-budget black-and-white science fiction titles with heavy lashings of horror from producers Roger and Gene Corman and director Bernard L. Kowalski. While both titles labor under the Cormans’ budgetary restraints – leaden dialogue, risible special effects and very silly monsters, even by period standards – both also have an extra spark that distinguishes them, even if by a fraction, from the ’50s B-movie throng. For “Blood Beast,” it’s the core premise – an astronaut, left dead after his rocket’s mid-flight collision, revives with alien embryos implanted in his body, while for “Leeches,” it’s the framing device: a hot-blooded, “Tobacco Road”-style subplot involving a backwoods romance-and-revenge triangle that distracts from the standard issue monsters-borne-of-radiation track. Both are also surprisingly gruesome: “Leeches” devotes considerable time to the Giant Leeches draining their blood from their screaming victims, while the lumpy Blood Beast has a penchant for devouring the brains of its decapitated victims. All of these elements coalesce into pure heaven for vintage monster movie fans and a wholly watchable experience for first-timers; Film Masters’ two-disc Blu-ray set includes a 4K restoration of “Blood Beast” and an HD transfer of “Leeches”; the 35mm source material for the former apparently had some issues, resulting in a reconstructed title sequence and some visible marring, but still looks vastly better than previous releases (the same goes for “Leeches,” though the transfer is less sharp). Both titles also feature Tom Weaver’s commentary and their respective “Mystery Science Theater 3000” episodes, as well as galleries of promo materials and the TV version of “Blood Beast.”
And: Arrow also has Limited Edition 4K UHD discs for another J-Horror favorite, Hideo Nakata’s “Dark Water,” as well as the agreeably silly “Elvira: Mistress of the Dark,” the four-disc “Hellraiser: Quartet of Torment,” which bundles Clive Barker’s 1987 film with three sequels, and the much-loved anthology “Trick ‘r Treat,” all of which arrives in deluxe presentations with numerous extras.
