FILM FRENZY

Barbara Steele in Castle of Blood (Photo: Severin)

By Matt Brunson

(For a review of the new Blu-ray release of both 1980’s Caligula and 2023’s Caligula: The Ultimate Cut, go here.)

(View From The Couch is a weekly column that reviews what’s new on Blu-ray, 4K and DVD. Ratings are on a four-star scale.)

BLACK BELT JONES (1974). Surely I haven’t been the only one over the decades to notice the no-flow hiccup in the 1973 martial arts classic Enter the Dragon. (Insert Spoiler alert here.) Every time I’ve watched it, it always strikes me how the pacing, the scripting, and the emphasis dictate that the character of Williams (played by Jim Kelly) will be the secondary hero under Lee (Bruce Lee), still standing at the end to assist in kicking ample bad-guy butts. Instead, Williams gets killed halfway through by master villain Han (Shih Kien), leaving Roper (John Saxon) to fight alongside Lee. It was when I finally found out the truth long after the fact that it all made sense: Williams was supposed to live instead of Roper, but since Saxon would only do the film if his character survived, the switch was hastily made at the last minute. But while there was no happily-ever-after for Kelly’s character, there was a pleasing denouement for the actor himself: His appearance convinced Warner Bros. to sign him to a three-picture contract, with Black Belt Jones debuting a year after Enter the Dragon. Both a chop-socky flick and a blaxploitation film, Black Belt Jones (from the same director and producers as Enter the Dragon) finds Kelly cast as the title character, a martial artist who numbers among his friends Pop (Scatman Crothers), an older gent who runs a karate school in Los Angeles. When it’s revealed that the Mafia wants the land on which the school stands for their own lucrative business dealings, it’s up to Jones and Pop’s karate-savvy daughter Sydney (Gloria Hendry) to protect the joint. The picture leans a little too heavily on broad humor, but Kelly is an appropriately stalwart hero, and the fight scenes are aces.

The only Blu-ray extra is the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★½

BODY AND SOUL (1947). The granddaddy of all the great boxing pictures like Rocky and Raging Bull, Body and Soul finds John Garfield delivering a superb performance as Charley Davis, a Jewish kid who yearns to become a championship fighter. His ascendancy hits the fast lane once he becomes involved with a shady promoter (Lloyd Gough) — ignoring the warnings of his girlfriend (Lilli Palmer), his best friend (Joseph Pevney), and a former boxer (Canada Lee), he remains tethered to the sleazebag until a series of moral crises force him to reconsider his life. More than just a boxing picture, Body and Soul also sports elements of film noir and functions as a socially conscious morality tale, the latter due to its decidedly anti-capitalist stance (money is the root of all evil in this picture). No surprise, then, that Garfield, director Robert Rossen, and scripter Abraham Polonsky would all eventually be accused of being Communists, called before the House Un-American Activities Committee, and ordered to name names or else suffer the blacklist. For the record, Rossen, a former Communist Party member, would crack and list over 50 people, thus destroying their careers but saving his own (he would later helm the 1961 Paul Newman classic The Hustler). Polonsky, an active Communist, refused to testify and subsequently wrote films under pseudonyms until the blacklist ended. Garfield, who was never a Communist but rather a conscientious liberal Democrat who loved his country, also refused to cooperate with HUAC — the blacklist literally killed him, as one of the greatest actors of the 1940s died of a stress-induced heart attack in 1952, age 39 (the HUAC fascists only cleared him after his death). Earning Garfield and Polonsky Oscar nominations for Best Actor and Best Original Screenplay, Body and Soul took home the award for Best Film Editing.

Blu-ray extras consist of film historian audio commentary; the theatrical trailer; and trailers for other titles on the Kino label.

Movie: ★★★½

BODY DOUBLE (1984). Savaged by most critics upon its original release (Roger Ebert was one of its sole defenders) but since heavily reevaluated, Brian De Palma’s most underrated film blew me away back in ’84 and, 40 years later, continues to deliver with its orgy of vicarious thrills, visceral pleasures, and comic riffs (amazing that most reviewers mistook this for a serious movie!). Just as De Palma’s excellent Dressed to Kill was an homage-or-rip-off-take-your-pick of Hitchcock’s Psycho, Body Double uses The Master’s Vertigo and Rear Window as its twin starting points and then wanders off in its own delirious direction. Craig Wasson plays a struggling actor whose nocturnal stint as a Peeping Tom allows him to see that a beautiful neighbor (Deborah Shelton) might be in mortal danger; caught in the middle, he tricks porn starlet Holly Body (Melanie Griffith) into helping him get to the bottom of things. Woe be to the viewer who tries to accept this at face value; instead, the movie gets its charge from De Palma’s careful manipulation of cinematic artifice and audience expectations. Basically an extended middle finger to those who trashed Dressed to Kill, the movie, stunningly shot by Stephen H. Burum and beautifully scored by Pino Donaggio, is loaded with sexual imagery, sly stabs at Hollywood-business-as-usual, and now-kitschy 1980s injections (including a music video sequence set to Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s “Relax”). In her career-making performance, Griffith steals the show as Holly Body — her work earned her a Golden Globe nomination as well as the Best Supporting Actress prize from the National Society of Film Critics … but no love from the Academy snobs, of course.

Extras in the 4K edition include making-of featurettes and archival interviews with De Palma, Wasson, and Griffith.

Movie: ★★★½

CASTLE OF BLOOD (1964). If the plot of Castle of Blood sounds familiar but you don’t recall seeing a movie named Castle of Blood, that’s because this edited, English-language version of the Italian chiller Danza Macabra also made the rounds (mostly on VHS) under the titles Castle of Terror, Coffin of Terror, The Long Night of Terror, Tombs of Horror, and Dimensions in Death. Whatever the moniker, this is a leisurely paced but extremely atmospheric yarn that opens with Edgar Allan Poe (Silvano Tranquilli) spinning yarns to journalist Alan Foster (Georges Rivière) and Lord Blackwood (Umberto Raho) at a tavern. After Foster scoffs at Poe’s claim that all of his fantastical tales are based in fact, Lord Blackwood reveals that he owns a haunted castle from which no one has ever returned and bets Foster that he can’t last one night in the dank and dark dwelling. Foster arrives at the castle and is surprised to find it occupied by various people, including the vulnerable Elisabeth Blackwood (Barbara Steele), the frosty Julia Alert (Margrete Robsahm), and the mysterious Dr. Carmus (Arturo Dominici). It doesn’t take Foster (or us) long to figure out that all these inhabitants are ghosts, and all are being forced to relive their own murders. This entry in the Gothic Horror cycle is more than a simple spook show, instead offering theories of life after death in the context of the spirits’ story-within-the-story, a violent melodrama that goes heavy on the sexual aspects (including an unexpected splash of lesbianism) without ever feeling exploitative. Director Antonio Marghereti later remade his own film as 1971’s Web of the Spider (with Klaus Kinski as Poe!); that version arrives on Blu-ray on October 22.

This edition offers the 91-minute Danza Macabra and the 83-minute Castle of Blood. Blu-ray extras include select-scene audio commentary by Steele; a discussion of Steele by Marghereti; and a visual essay on Steele’s Italian Gothic output.

Movie: ★★★

THE CHRONICLES OF RIDDICK (2004) The 2000 sleeper hit Pitch Black turned out to be one of the better Alien rip-offs to hatch over the years, but those who expected this sequel to repeat that movie’s high level of excitement and imagination were sorely disappointed by this box office bomb. While refusing (perhaps admirably) to simply churn out a rehash of his previous success, writer-director David Twohy has instead taken the lead character of Riddick and placed him in an entirely different type of sci-fi flick. Foregoing the fast-paced thrills of Pitch Black, Twohy has elected to spin a fantasy yarn in the dour Dune/Stargate mold, as the marble-mouthed anti-hero (again played by Vin Diesel) finds himself waging a personal war against a race of conquerors known as Necromongers. Deadly dull at the outset — here’s one Diesel-fueled vehicle that’s neither fast nor furious — the picture improves as it progresses, although not enough to warrant two hours of invested time. Diesel’s Riddick is part of the problem: An intriguing character when kept in the shadows for much of Pitch Black, he’s become infinitely less interesting as an out-and-out action hero, losing all sense of mystery and reduced to cracking one-liners along with cracking heads. But give Twohy credit for creating a convincing galaxy from scratch: The movie’s art direction, costume designs, and visual effects all earn top marks. Another underachieving sequel, Riddick, followed in 2013.

4K extras include audio commentary by Twohy and Diesel; a feature-length making-of piece; an interview with Twohy; deleted scenes; and a look at the visual effects.

Movie: ★½

DANCES WITH WOLVES (1990). Forever known (and, in some circles, vilified) as The Movie That Beat GoodFellas For The Best Picture Oscar, Kevin Costner’s commercial and critical smash has seen its reputation diminish over the ensuing years — an unfortunate development for a truly exemplary motion picture. Still, even at three hours, the theatrical cut seemed a tad incomplete, with some unexplained plot points and truncated character development. The four-hour version, which first saw the light of day on video back in 1994 and has since been released periodically on DVD and Blu-ray (but oddly not 4K… yet), is the real deal, a gorgeous, masterful production that deserves to endure as an American classic. In addition to making an impressive directorial debut, Costner stars as John Dunbar, a Union officer who volunteers for a frontier assignment; while serving solo duty at the post, he becomes acquainted with the members of a neighboring Sioux tribe and eventually finds himself integrated into their society. The strengths of the original cut are still intact, but what makes the expanded edition truly soar is how well it develops the relationships between Costner and Mary McDonnell (as a white woman raised by the Sioux) and especially Costner and Graham Greene (marvelous as the tribe’s holy man). Nominated for 12 Academy Awards, including Best Actor (Costner), Supporting Actor (Greene), and Supporting Actress (McDonnell), this won seven, including Best Director, Adapted Screenplay (Michael Blake, adapting his own novel), and the aforementioned Best Picture.

The new Blu-ray edition contains both cuts. Extras include audio commentary by Costner and producer Jim Wilson; various making-of featurettes; and the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★★★

LADY IN WHITE (1988). There’s wasted potential to spare in Lady in White, a low-key ghost tale that does just enough right to make the overall disappointment even more pronounced. Set in 1962, the film stars Lukas Haas (the wee witness in Witness) as Frankie Scarlatti, a young boy who, having been locked overnight in a school cloakroom by a pair of classmates, sees a ghostly girl reliving her murder right before his eyes. It turns out she’s but one victim of a madman who’s been slaughtering children for approximately a decade, and Frankie’s own close encounter with the murderer sets him on the path toward uncovering the twin mysteries involving the killer’s identity and the dead girl’s lineage. Writer-director Frank LaLoggia’s primary strength is in crafting a loving and believable family dynamic between Frankie, his older brother Geno (Jason Presson), and their widowed dad Al (Alex Rocco), and these scenes are among the movie’s best — even if the comic relief from the grandparents Mama Assunta (Renata Vanni) and Papa Charlie (Angelo Bertolini) eventually reaches nails-on-the-chalkboard levels of buffoonery. But rarely has the identity of a killer been as glaringly obvious as it proves to be here, and that cuts the legs out from under the picture almost immediately. And while LaLoggia and cinematographer Russell Carpenter (later an Oscar winner for Titanic) visually capture ’60s small-town life in all its golden nostalgic hues, the clumsy inclusion of racial material leads to a tragedy that doesn’t affect the principal plot in any way whatsoever and merely ends up feeling forced and distasteful.

There are no Blu-ray extras.

Movie: ★★

PEE-WEE’S PLAYHOUSE (1986-1990). When Pee-wee’s Big Adventure was unleashed on the world in 1985, a film critic (USA Today‘s Mike Clark, if I recall) wrote that “A demented masterpiece is still a masterpiece.” That same bit of wisdom can also be applied to the Saturday morning children’s series that appeared the year after that breakthrough effort from Paul Reubens (aka Pee-wee Herman). Pee-wee’s Playhouse is both bizarre and brilliant, a series that’s ostensibly for kids but which appeals equally — if not more so — to grown-ups. Each show finds our man-child host hanging out in his imaginatively decorated funhouse, a romper room that houses such oddities as a talking chair, a talking globe, and Jambi the Genie (John Paragon). Pee-wee would receive visits from such friends as Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne) and Captain Carl (Phil Hartman), and each episode would include a Secret Word. The behind-the-scenes talent assembled for the show is formidable: Mark Mothersbaugh, Danny Elfman, and Todd Rungren on the musical side; multiple Oscar winners Ve Neill and Yolanda Toussieng handling the makeup; and Peter Lord and David Sproxton of Aardman Animations (the Wallace & Gromit franchise) lending a hand with the animation (including the delightful Penny shorts seen on the show). And, yes, that’s the great Cyndi Lauper (billed as Ellen Shaw) contributing the theme song.

The Blu-ray box set houses not only all 45 episodes from the show’s run but also the 1988 Christmas special that included guest appearances from the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Cher, Magic Johnson, k.d. lang, and Joan Rivers. Also included are over four hours of making-of material examining the sets, the casting, the music, the puppets, and more, as well as interviews with many cast and crew members, including Fishburne and Elfman.

Series: ★★★★

THE STAND (1994). There’s nothing like a choice critical blurb to perfectly capture a particular viewing experience, and one that has stuck with me over the decades was a tasty morsel employed in a review of the six-hour television miniseries based on Stephen King’s mammoth novel. Writing for Entertainment Weekly, Ken Tucker noted, “It’s a TV movie schlocky enough to have Rob Lowe as one of its heroes, yet witty enough to cast him as a mute.” That’s pretty much The Stand in a nutshell. With King himself wrestling his bestselling book and paring (and toning) it down just enough to satisfy the suits at ABC, this admirable if occasionally hokey epic centers on a disease that wipes out 99% of the planet’s inhabitants. Most of the survivors are split between two camps: Good, as represented by Abagail Freemantle (Ruby Dee), and Evil, as overseen by Randall Flagg (Jamey Sheridan). Gary Sinise, Molly Ringwald, Miguel Ferrer, and Lowe are among those essaying major roles, but the talent is deep enough to include Ed Harris and Kathy Bates in uncredited parts and quirky enough to also find room for Sam Raimi, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and even King himself. Nominated for six Emmy Awards, including Outstanding Miniseries, it won for its makeup and its sound mixing. Another miniseries adaptation, this one less acclaimed, appeared on Paramount+ in 2020; it starred James Marsden, Amber Heard, Alexander Skarsgård, and Whoopi Goldberg.

Blu-ray extras consist of audio commentary by King and director Mick Garris and a making-of featurette.

Miniseries: ★★★

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM

THE INGLORIOUS BASTARDS (1978). Quentin Tarantino has long cited this Italian action flick among his favorites, which explains why he eventually made his own film of a similar name. A blatant offshoot of The Dirty Dozen (the tagline even reads, “Whatever The Dirty Dozen Did, They Do It Dirtier!”), this World War II adventure yarn centers on five military prisoners who manage to escape when the truck transporting them is attacked by German aircraft. The quintet — leader Bo Svenson, tough Fred Williamson, amoral Peter Hooten, industrious Michael Pergolani, and cowardly Jackie Basehart — plan to hoof it to Switzerland, but after being mistaken by the French Resistance as the team sent to carry out a dangerous mission, they figure completing the assignment might result in the Allied brass (represented by Ian Bannen) dropping all charges against them. Director Enzo G. Castellari refuses to let a relatively low budget interfere with his fun, as he and his five scripters make a film that’s packed almost wall to wall with action. The cheese factor is high in this one, and allowances are made for T&A lovers as well as action fans (one improbable sequence finds the Bastards stumbling across German beauties skinny-dipping in a stream). This is also the only film I can recall in which the most abhorrent member of a group — in this case, a self-serving, racist jerk with Mob connections — ends up getting the girl! The Inglorious Bastards didn’t even reach U.S. theaters until 1981, but since then, it’s been re-released several times (mostly on video) under different monikers, including Deadly Mission, Counterfeit Commandos, Hell’s Heroes, and, for the blaxploitation crowd (and emphasizing Williamson’s presence), G.I. Bro.

Movie: ★★½

NIGHT OF THE COMET (1984). Big hair? Check. A Cyndi Lauper song (albeit recorded by someone else) on the soundtrack? Yup. A gum-smacking Valley Girl as one of the heroines? Affirmative. Yes, there’s no question Night of the Comet was made in the 1980s, and that’s a positive for people who have enjoyed similarly silly sci-fi flicks like The Return of the Living Dead, Night of the Creeps, and other amusingly airy efforts from that decade. In this one, people all over the planet are excited to witness the passing of a comet that last made its way near our orb around the same time that, uh oh, the dinosaurs went extinct. Sure enough, the morning after the big event finds nothing but dust and empty clothes where people previously stood, with the survivors few and far between. The unlucky humans, the ones only partly exposed to the comet, have been turned into zombies; the more fortunate ones, those who were completely sheltered (thanks to steel surroundings), have emerged completely normal. Teenage sisters Regina (Catherine Mary Stewart) and Samantha (Kelli Maroney) are two of those who made it through, and among their challenges are learning to trust a trucker named Hector (Robert Beltran), avoiding flesh eaters while shopping, and figuring out why a group of scientists is pursuing them so fervently. Despite a mall as one of its settings and the munching of human flesh, nobody will ever mistake this for George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead, but it’s nevertheless a likable lark, bolstered by winning performances from Stewart and especially Maroney.

Movie: ★★★

THE ROSE (1979). Although The Rose began life as a biopic of Janis Joplin, the principal parties decided they would rather make a movie loosely based on Joplin’s life rather than a straightforward interpretation. It was a sound decision, since it allowed star Bette Midler to incorporate bits of her own career into the mix and removed any pressure to perform the songs in mimicry of Joplin. Midler delivers a sensational performance as Mary Rose Foster, a rock ‘n’ roll star who’s burned out from ceaseless touring. She needs a year off but her hard-nosed manager (Alan Bates) won’t allow her a break; instead, she seeks temporary solace in the arms of a cowboy-cum-chauffeur (Frederic Forrest, enjoying a banner year thanks to this film and Apocalypse Now), an easygoing guy whose earthy values make it hard for him to adjust to Rose’s more hedonistic lifestyle. Director Mark Rydell took a chance in casting Midler, a screen novice who first developed a following performing in gay bathhouses in the early 1970s. But his instinct proved correct, with the film becoming a modest hit and Midler emerging as an overnight star. Her turn as the self-destructive yet sympathetic Rose is a tour de force, and there are nice contributions from Forrest and, in one powerhouse scene, Harry Dean Stanton as a country star who talks down to Rose. The concert sequences are a special treat, with Midler belting out (among others) “When a Man Loves a Woman” and “Fire Down Below.” The Rose earned four Academy Award nominations, including bids for Midler as Best Actress and Forrest as Best Supporting Actor. While Midler lost the Oscar to an even more formidable performance — Sally Field’s in Norma Rae — her rendition of the film’s title track did bless her with a smash single and a Grammy Award for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance.

Movie: ★★★