“Rock, Pretty Baby” * (1956, Kino Lorber) World-class teenage brooder Jimmy Daley (John Saxon) knows that the ticket to the big time for his high school combo, the unfortunately named Ding-a-Lings, is a brand new guitar, but its price tag is a bridge too far for Jimmy’s decidedly un-hep doctor dad (Edward Platt, who busted James Dean one year before in “Rebel Without a Cause). Salvation arrives in Luann Patten’s Joan, who not only provides musical arrangements and a romantic outlet for Jimmy’s unbridled angst, but also a shot at the dough in the form of a battle-of-the-bands contest at the Palladium hosted by Johnny Grant (as himself). Silly but earnest teenage drama, which seeks a tone somewhere between the emotional youthquake of “Rebel” and the guileless theatrics of proto-rock-and-roll pictures like “Go, Johnny, Go” and “Mister Rock and Roll.” Director Richard Bartlett and writers Herbert Margolis and William Raynor — all future TV vets — are more successful at the latter than the former, and if the songs are mostly stiffs (whitebread R&B-and-jazz influenced pop by, among others, Henry Mancini, Sonny Burke, and Bobby Troup; rockabilly wildman Kip Tyler is apparently the uncredited vocalist on the title track), the performances are professional and in some cases, amusing — most notably top-billed Sal Mineo as it’s-a-me drummer Angelo and Shelley Fabares as Jimmy’s boy-crazy little sister — and Saxon and Patten generate a surprising amount of hormonal chemistry for such a chaste project (a college party is treated as a den of iniquity). Universal later released a sequel, 1958’s “Summer Love,” with most of the cast returning (sans Patten and Mineo). With Fay Wray (of all people) as Jimmy’s mom, Rod McKuen (ditto) as bassist Ox, TV producer John Wilder as keyboardist Fingers, George “Foghorn” Winslow as Jimmy’s little brother, and celebrity twins Susan and Carol Volkmann as the objects of Angelo’s desire; Kino’s Blu-ray is taken from a 4K scan of the 35mm camera negative and features informative and amusing commentary by David Del Valle.
“The Strangler of Blackmoor Castle” * (1963, Eureka Entertainment) Who is the hooded figure lurking on the fog-shrouded grounds of Britain’s Blackmoor Castle, and promising death to government man Rudolf Fernau and his niece, aspiring journalist Karin Dor? Could it be creepy butler Dieter Eppler? Bird-obsessed Scotsman Hans Nielsen and his bizarre mustache? Inspector Harry Riebauer wants to know how stolen diamonds factor into the Strangler’s reign of terror in this black-and-white thriller, one of dozens produced in Germany during the 1960s and ’70s and inspired by suspense novels by Edgar Wallace and his son, Bryan Edgar Wallace (who wrote the outline that inspired “Blackmoor”). These “krimis” (kriminalfilms) took their cues from the Wallaces’ complicated plots but also drew upon an array of other influences, from pulp thrillers and locked-room mysteries to the paranoid techno-thrillers featuring supervillain Dr. Mabuse (with which “Blackmoor” producer Artur Brauner had found success), lashed liberally with Gothic atmosphere and suggestions of sex and violence (all of which would later influence Italy’s giallo, earmarks of which — masked killers, traumatic violence, voyeurism, and fetish — are glimpsed here). The Old Dark House tropes and occasional forays into comedy may try some viewers’ patience, but director Harald Reinl (also Dor’s husband) holds attention by focusing on atmosphere over plot mechanics and depicts the Strangler as a memorably menacing figure capable of extreme violence (for the time) — throttlings, of course, but also a knife pressed close to Dor’s eye and one jaw-dropping decapitation — all of which elevate “Blackmoor” beyond basic whodunit fare. Featured on Eureka’s impressive “Terror in the Fog: The Wallace Krimi at CCC” box set, which pairs it with five other Wallace adaptations by Brauner at his CCC-Filmkunst studio (including the wild “Mad Executioners” and “Phantom of Soho”), “Blackmoor” offers an HD restoration with both German and English audio options and observant commentary by Kevin Lyons. Tim Lucas also intros the film (as he does throughout the set) and details the particulars of krimis while also giving a history of CCC and its competition with another studio, Rialto, which inspired them to tackle their own Wallace adaptations.
“Graveyard Shift” * (1990, Kino Lorber) Low-wattage adaptation of Stephen King short story with David Andrews as a far-too-old college grad roped into cleaning an ancient textile mill in Maine which is under threat of closure due to its ever-growing rat population. Something worse than vermin lurks in the tunnels under the mill (which is connected to the local graveyard), but it, like much of the film, is underwhelming; director Ralph Singleton and the producers (all vets of various second-string King features) seem satisfied with character stereotypes, well-worn shock and modest gore setpieces, and overbaked performances by the largely unknown cast. Some of these turns work in the film’s favor, especially Stephen Macht as the mill foreman, whose arc takes him from garden-variety Bad Boss to full-bore maniac (Macht, it should be noted, offers the worst New England accent ever recorded on film, which is given its own spotlight dance during the hip-hop-styled end title theme). His turn, along with that of Brad Dourif as a shell-shocked rat exterminator, are the key reasons for undemanding creature feature devotees to check out “Graveyard Shift,” though Andrews and Kelly Wolf are capable leads and the production design on the mill is appropriately Gothic and gross. Kino’s 4K UHD/Blu-ray set gives the film’s gloomy atmosphere a considerable polish and includes a new commentary track by Marc Edward Heuck and Howard S. Berger, who detail production and the cast and crew’s pedigrees, and archival interviews with Singleton, Macht (a good sport), and co-stars Kelly Wolf and Robert Alan Beuth.
“College Confidential” * (1960, Kino Lorber) Caught coming home late by her punitive father (a bug-eyed Elisha Cook, Jr.), college student Mamie Van Doren blames her teacher (Steve Allen), who has been conducting a survey of young people’s views on an array of subjects (including s-e-x). Hysteria ensues, fanned by news of a stag movie shown to students at Allen’s home, which leads to a trial covered by (among others) real-life muckrakers like Walter Winchell and Earl Wilson. Producer-director Albert (“Touch of Evil”) Zugsmith’s follow-up to his jive-bombing classic “High School Confidential,” is nonsense, but at least entertaining nonsense; lacking the professional polish and tart script of its predecessor (not to mention the earth-shaking title track by Jerry Lee Lewis; Conway Twitty and Randy Sparks can do little here), “College” leans hard into sniggering sensationalism, much of which is anchored around allusions to the Kinsey Report and the physical attributes of Van Doren (who, like many actresses stuck with the bombshell label, was a better performer than her pictures allowed). The enjoyment of “College,” then, is found in the numerous script absurdities (such as Allen’s obliviousness to the idea that filming his students at a swim party or hosting them at his house might send up red flags) and Zugsmith’s weirdo casting choices — yes, that is Rocky Marciano as the town deputy and Twitty as Van Doren’s boyfriend, as well as custom car designer Norman “Woo Woo” Grabowski and nepo babies Robert Montgomery, Jr., William Wellman, Jr., and Cathy (niece of Bing) Crosby. Kino’s Blu-ray includes commentary by David Del Valle and Stan Shaffer.
