FILM FRENZY

Christopher Lloyd and Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future (Photo: Universal)

By Matt Brunson

(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.)

BACK TO THE FUTURE: 40TH ANNIVERSARY TRILOGY (1985-1990). This popular trilogy from director Robert Zemeckis and producer Steven Spielberg has been released on Blu-ray and/or 4K UHD for its 25th, 30th, and 35th anniversaries, so it should surprise no one to learn that there’s now a 40th anniversary edition. Unlike some of the past reissues (of which there have been roughly a dozen on one or both of these formats), this set offers several new extras — over 90 minutes worth (see below). As for the movies themselves, the 1985 original, in which Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) and Doc (Christopher Lloyd) zoom 30 years back to 1955, remains the best; 1989’s middle entry, in which the pair head forward to 2015, is the most underrated (like fellow second child Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, it had to contend with doltish charges of being too cold); and 1990’s third entry, which blasted the two back to the Old West of 1885, is the most conventional. For those box office prognosticators and awards junkies keeping score, the stateside hauls were $212 million, $118 million, and $87 million respectively, while the Oscar tally was one win (Best Sound Effects Editing) and three additional nominations (Best Original Screenplay for Bob Gale and Zemeckis, Best Sound, and Best Original Song for Huey Lewis and the News’ “The Power of Love”) for the original, one nomination (Best Visual Effects) for Part II, and none for Part III.

Among the new bonus features in this 4K + Blu-ray + Digital Code edition are a discussion with Gale (who co-produced as well as co-wrote); a modern tour of some of the filming locations; and a panel discussion at the TCM Classic Film Festival. Among the sizable number of older extras are audio commentaries on all three films by Gale and co-producer Neil Canton; an exhaustive six-part documentary; an interview with Fox; and the music videos for Huey Lewis and the News’ “The Power of Love” and ZZ Top’s “Doubleback” (from Part III).

Back to the Future: ★★★½

Back to the Future Part II: ★★★

Back to the Future Part III: ★★½

BETTE DAVIS: 4-FILM COLLECTION (1938-1940). Before she was eventually surpassed by Katharine Hepburn, Jack Nicholson, and Meryl Streep (and tied by Laurence Olivier), Bette Davis held the record for the most Oscar nominations received by one performer (10, excluding one write-in nomination). While that record has fallen, she still holds another: Along with Greer Garson, she has earned Oscar nominations in five consecutive years for her emoting. This four-film set includes the first three of those pictures, and how grand would it have been to include the fourth, 1941’s The Little Foxes? Not that the film taking its slot is a disgrace, but swapping it out would have resulted in an even stronger collection featuring the greatest actress that the cinema has ever had the honor to service.

The immortal 1950 masterpiece All About Eve is the movie that houses Bette’s best performance, but certainly ranking in the top five would be her mesmerizing turn in director William Wyler’s Civil War-era melodrama Jezebel (1938). Adapted from a flop play (John Huston was one of the film’s three scripters) and beating Gone with the Wind into theaters by one year, this finds Davis at her feistiest as Julie Marsden, a New Orleans belle with a fiercely independent streak. Engaged to the mild-mannered Preston Dillard (Henry Fonda) but still pursued by the roguish Buck Cantrell (George Brent), Julie shocks high society by wearing a red dress to an all-white ball (a sequence that deserves its classic status), and her faux pas has ramifications that she never sees coming. Rich in character and rich in design (the Orry-Kelly costumes worn by Davis are particularly noteworthy), Jezebel is expansive enough to also include a duel to the death and a yellow fever epidemic of staggering proportions. Nominated for five Academy Awards, including bids for Best Picture, Ernest Haller’s cinematography, and Max Steiner’s score, this earned Oscars for Best Actress (Davis) and Best Supporting Actress (Fay Bainter as Julie’s sympathetic aunt).

“Who wants to see a dame go blind?” bellowed studio head Jack Warner when Davis asked him to produce Dark Victory (1939) as her next vehicle. Fortunately, Bette got her way, meaning that Warner Bros. in turn got a sizable box office hit and film fans got one of the finest weepies ever made by Hollywood. Davis is nothing short of magnificent as Judith Traherne, a wealthy socialite suffering from a brain tumor that might take first her sight and then her life. George Brent rises to the occasion as the attending doctor who becomes Judith’s true love, and Geraldine Fitzgerald is excellent as her best friend. Then there’s Humphrey Bogart, miscast as Judith’s Irish stablemaster (his accent comes and goes), and Ronald Reagan, perfectly cast as a shallow, self-absorbed plutocrat. Dark Victory earned three Academy Award nominations, for Best Picture, Best Actress, and Best Original Score (Max Steiner).

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939) was filmed in early Technicolor, and while the images look fine in close-up, the colors tend to bleed in medium and long shots (obviously not a problem in 1938’s The Adventures of Robin Hood, still the most gorgeous of all Technicolor opuses). Still, no amount of sloppy saturation can diminish the excellent performance by Davis, whose Queen Elizabeth finds herself enamored with the dashing (and much younger) Earl of Essex (Errol Flynn) even as her devious advisers (including Vincent Price as Sir Walter Raleigh) attempt to turn her against him. Nominated for five Academy Award for various technical achievements. The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex is solid entertainment, but its slot in this set should have gone to The Little Foxes — alas, that’s one not even on Blu-ray yet, which doubtless factored into the decision.

After the success of Jezebel, and before their final collaboration on The Little Foxes, Wyler and Davis reunited for The Letter (1940), a riveting adaptation of the play and short story by W. Somerset Maugham. Bette is typically terrific as Leslie Crosbie, who, in the film’s stunning opening, is seen emptying a pistol into a man on the steps of her plantation home in British Malaya. Her husband (Herbert Marshall), away on business, is quickly summoned, along with the family attorney (James Stephenson) and the consulate representative (Bruce Lester), and she explains to them that she killed the man, an old acquaintance, in self-defense after he tried to rape her. Everyone believes her story until an incriminating piece of evidence unexpectedly comes into play. Top productions values allow the studio lot to pass fairly convincingly for Malaya, with Wyler and cinematographer Tony Gaudio maximizing the imposing atmospherics. Although it went home empty-handed at the Oscars, The Letter did pick up a generous seven nominations, including bids for Best Picture, Actress, Supporting Actor (Stephenson), Director, and Black-and-White Cinematography.

Blu-ray extras on Jezebel include film historian audio commentary; a retrospective making-of piece; the 1938 cartoon Daffy Duck in Hollywood; and a vintage promotional piece in which Davis plugs Jezebel. Blu-ray extras on Dark Victory include film historian audio commentary; the featurette 1939: Tough Competition for Dark Victory (this was, after all, the year of Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, Stagecoach, and countless other Oscar-contending classics); and a 1940 radio adaptation starring Davis and Spencer Tracy. Blu-ray extras on The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex include an introduction by film critic Leonard Maltin; a retrospective behind-the-scenes piece; and the 1939 Porky Pig cartoon Old Glory. Blu-ray extras on The Letter include an alternate ending and two radio adaptations, both starring Davis and Marshall (and one also featuring Stephenson).

Jezebel: ★★★½

Dark Victory: ★★★½

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex: ★★★

The Letter: ★★★½

GUNS UP (2025). Edward Drake’s previous nine pictures as writer and/or director all starred Bruce Willis, but with the actor now retired, the marquee name here is Kevin James — he plays Ray Hayes, an underpaid cop who realizes he can’t provide a decent life for his wife Alice (Christina Ricci) and their kids (Keana Marie and Leo Easton Kelly). He turns to Michael Temple (Melissa Leo), a matriarchal mob boss who offers Ray a job as a henchman, one that will not only pay well but also provide 401(k) and healthcare — “Dental included,” adds Michael’s loyal right-hand man Ignatius (Luis Guzmán). Ray takes the job, mainly because he wants to earn enough money so that he and Alice can one day open their own diner. Ray finally saves enough dough, but right when he decides to resign, Michael is offed and her operation taken over by Lonny Castigan (Timothy V. Murphy), a ruthless boss who has no intention of letting Ray leave the fold. Guns Up mostly plays out in stale fashion, with some competently staged but ultimately unexciting shootouts, a gallery of one-dimensional villains, and the expected antics — simultaneously comical and gory — when Ray’s family members get drawn into the violence and must protect themselves and each other. James has the bulk and frame for a mob enforcer, but he lacks the gravitas — the Paul Blart: Mall Cop star is far more convincing goofing around with family members than blasting away at bad guys. Guzmán is always a welcome presence in movies, and Ricci has a few good moments as a woman who ultimately gives as good as she gets. But with little to set it apart from other entries in the overstuffed crime genre, the perfunctory Guns Up ultimately runs out of ammo.

There are no Blu-ray extras.

Movie: ★★

INTRUDER IN THE DUST (1949). William Faulkner’s 1948 novel was the basis for this outstanding drama, one of the most honest and nuanced social-justice pictures to emerge from Hollywood’s Golden Age. Its importance rests in its portrayal of its central black character, who was far from the subservient buffoons usually found in pictures from the era — it’s no wonder that African-American film historian Donald Bogle, author of Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies and Bucks: An Interpretative History of Blacks in Films, heaped ample praise on the movie, as Lucas Beauchamp (Juano Hernandez) didn’t fit into any of the expected (and demeaning) classifications. Filmed in Faulkner’s hometown of Oxford, Mississippi, but set in fictional Jefferson, Miss., this finds Lucas arrested for the murder of a white man. The decent Sheriff Hampton (Will Geer) treats him according to the dictates of the law, but the townspeople are salivating at the prospect of a lynching, even going so far as to basically set up a carnival around the presumed hanging. Lucas is innocent of the crime, but that hardly matters to the local rubes, since his true offense is that he’s a proud and stubborn black man who refuses to bend even a centimeter to his white “superiors.” With Lucas behind bars, it’s up to the unlikely trio of a doubting lawyer (David Brian), his teenage nephew (Clause Jarman Jr.), and an elderly woman (Elizabeth Patterson) to solve the mystery, aided along the way by the nephew’s black friend (Elzie Emanuel), the sheriff, and even the victim’s father (Porter Hall). It’s astonishing that this was produced by a major studio (MGM), but it’s hardly surprising that it proved to be a box office flop.

Blu-ray extras consist of the 1949 live-action short Playlands of Michigan; the 1949 cartoon Counterfeit Cat; and the trailer.

Movie: ★★★½

JOAN CRAWFORD: 4-FILM COLLECTION (1932-1950). It figures that the two best films in this set devoted to Joan Crawford are not star vehicles but rather movies in which she was part of all-star casts.

The first truly all-star film ever made, Grand Hotel (1932) managed to pack five box office giants into one movie, a decision that resulted in a resounding hit for MGM. Set in a luxurious Berlin hotel, the film looks at the intersecting lives of five of its guests. Burned-out ballerina Grusinskaya (Greta Garbo) wails, “I want to be alone”; the penniless Baron (John Barrymore) has resorted to stealing to get out of debt; the nasty businessman Preysing (Wallace Beery) is trying to pull off a difficult transaction; the stenographer Flaemmchen (Crawford) hopes to get ahead in life; and the dying laborer Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore) wants to go out with a bang. Creaky in spots, the film still triumphs due to its neatly interwoven plotlines, strong characterizations by the leads, and the expected MGM gloss. Crawford usually isn’t my cup of tea — I’m Team Bette all the way — but here she’s positively radiant, and she steals the movie from her formidable co-stars. Grand Hotel was nominated for a grand total of one Academy Award, which it ended up winning: Best Picture. Thus, it’s the only movie to ever win Best Picture without receiving any other nominations, a designation it’s almost certain to never share.

The Women (1939), a stellar adaptation of Clare Boothe Luce’s hit play, features a roster of over 130 players — and not a single male in the bunch. Working from a script by Anita Loos and Jane Murfin, director George Cukor puts an all-female cast through outrageous paces in this scintillating picture in which devoted wife and mother Mary Haines (Norma Shearer) discovers that her husband is having an affair with Crystal Allen (Crawford), a gold-digger who works behind the perfume counter at a department store. At a time like this, Mary needs her friends more than ever, but she quickly learns that it’s not wise to confide in the other ladies in her social circle. An exception is the sweet and naïve Peggy (Joan Fontaine) — worst of the lot is Sylvia Fowler (Rosalind Russell), who not only fuels the flames of gossip but even becomes Crystal’s ally. Russell’s broad approach often conflicts with the work by the other actresses, but for the most part, the cast is uniformly excellent, with further noteworthy contributions from Paulette Goddard as the shrewd Miriam and Mary Boland as the excitable Countess. Much of the dialogue is comic gold, with several risqué quips somehow making it past the censors (“He could crack a coconut with those knees … if he could get them together!”).

Two years after winning her Academy Award for Mildred Pierce, Crawford earned another Best Actress nomination for an equally intense performance in Possessed (1947). She stars as the mentally fragile Louise Howell, whose schizophrenia continues to percolate as she’s repeatedly rejected by her former lover, David Sutton (Van Heflin). She reluctantly hitches herself to wealthy businessman Dean Graham (Raymond Massey) but really comes undone once she suspects David of being romantically interested in Dean’s college-age daughter Carol (Geraldine Brooks). Misdiagnosed in some circles as a film noir — even the featurette on the Blu-ray is called Possessed: The Quintessential Film Noir (more quintessential than Kiss Me Deadly? Or Out of the Past?? Or Double Indemnity???) — this is actually a full-blooded melodrama in line with many other Crawford flicks, with its most intriguing aspect being the manner in which it frequently takes Louise’s POV and thus snares us in her delusional flights.

More histrionics can be found in The Damned Don’t Cry (1950), which is partly based on the relationship between gangster Bugsy Siegel and moll Virginia Hill but mainly seems like an excuse for Crawford to use her character as a stepping stone for ample — and increasingly classier — costume changes. She’s Ethel Whitehead, a small-town housewife who loves her son but doesn’t care much for either her husband (Richard Egan) or their impoverished lifestyle. After tragedy strikes, Ethel leaves her hubby and hoofs it to a big city — there, she goes from frumpy spouse to struggling shop girl to refined model to gold-digging escort to pampered gangster’s moll to glamorous society woman. Among the guys who fall under her spell are a meek accountant (Kent Smith), a ruthless crime kingpin (David Brian), and an ambitious mob underling (Steve Cochran). Crawford and Brian enjoyed stronger chemistry in the previous year’s Flamingo Road, while the relationship between Ethel and Cochran’s hoodlum is barely developed. That leaves Smith to share the most interesting scenes with the leading lady, with his conflicted character also providing what passes as a moral center in this pulpy picture.

Blu-ray extras on Grand Hotel include film historian audio commentary; a making-of featurette; and footage from the movie’s Hollywood premiere. Blu-ray extras on The Women include an alternate fashion show sequence and two vintage shorts about film fashion, 1939’s From the Ends of the Earth and 1940’s Hollywood: Style Center of the World. Blu-ray extras on Possessed include film historian audio commentary and a retrospective making-of featurette. Blu-ray extras on The Damned Don’t Cry include archival audio commentary by director Vincent Sherman; a discussion about Crawford’s personal and professional lives; and a 1951 radio adaptation starring Crawford.

Grand Hotel: ★★★½

The Women: ★★★½

Possessed: ★★★

The Damned Don’t Cry: ★★½

RADIOLAND MURDERS (1994). George Lucas had wanted to make this movie for over two decades — back when he was working on 1973’s American Graffiti — and it’s easy to see why. It was meant to be one of those comedic whodunits packed to the rafters with colorful characters and snappy patter, as a fledgling radio station in 1939 becomes the site of a series of murders even as its employees attempt to keep everything running smoothly. It sounds potentially engrossing and entertaining, but the end result is mostly obnoxious, overbearing, and exhausting. While a few gags work, the film is primarily crammed with uninspired slapstick antics — it feels like five minutes don’t go by without someone being kicked out of a room, thrown into a wall or slammed against a door — and most of the characters are annoyingly bombastic without ever becoming endearing or interesting. Mary Stuart Masterson and Brian Benben are underwhelming in the lead roles of the station’s savvy secretary and her scriptwriter husband, but starwatchers will enjoy documenting the two dozen names who appear in the supporting ranks, an assemblage that includes Christopher Lloyd, Jeffrey Tambor, Michael McKean, and Rosemary Clooney (George’s aunt). Bottom line: Those who have always yearned to see George Burns and Bobcat Goldthwait in the same film should sally forth, but all others should tune out. Like Howard the Duck (and, to be fair, American Graffiti and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom), the story was conceived by Lucas but mainly scripted by his buddies, the husband and wife team of Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz; also like Howard the Duck, it was a commercial disaster, costing $15 million but only grossing just over $1 million.

Blu-ray extras consist of entertainment journalist audio commentary; an interview with Benben; and the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★

RAMPAGE (1992). The absurd legal defense of “not guilty by reason of insanity” gets a workout in a prickly picture that takes a thinking man’s approach to a potentially sensationalistic topic. Alex McArthur plays Charles Reece, a young man who goes on a killing spree at Christmastime that leaves five people dead. Liberal District Attorney Anthony Fraser (Michael Biehn) decides he’ll seek the death penalty, while the defense hopes to prove that the killer is insane and therefore not responsible for his actions. The back-and-forth between the opposing sides is skillfully presented, but what’s especially affecting about the film is its emphasis on the victims, with Royce D. Applegate a standout as a family man who loses his wife and one of his two young sons to Reece’s sadistic spree. Written and directed by William Friedkin (working from William P. Wood’s same-named novel about real-life serial killer Richard Chase), Rampage was set for release in 1987 when Dino De Laurentiis’ studio went bankrupt; as such, it had only played film festivals and a few European cities before disappearing. Five years later, Miramax picked up the distribution rights, and Friedkin’s own new outlook on the death penalty resulted in him deleting some scenes and changing the ending. It’s a move for the better, as the ’87 version includes a needless subplot about Fraser’s marital woes and, more detrimentally, an unsatisfactory ending. The ’92 ending is overall stronger and certainly more disturbing.

The 4K + Blu-ray edition contains both the 1987 and 1992 cuts of the movie. Extras consist of film historian audio commentary on both versions; an interview with McArthur; an interview with true crime author Harold Schechter (Ripped From the Headlines: The Shocking True Stories Behind the Movies’ Most Memorable Crimes); and the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★★

THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW (1975). Approximately two decades ago, Entertainment Weekly released its picks for The Top 50 Cult Movies, and the choice of This Is Spinal Tap as the number one cult flick, over number two pick The Rocky Horror Picture Show, was something of a surprise. Let’s face it: Spinal Tap may be a better film than Rocky Horror, but when it comes to a dictionary definition of “cult film,” nothing has ever matched the midnight movie perennial. Made for just over a million dollars, the film bombed when initially released for a regular run — about six months later, it made its 12 a.m. debut, and continuous showings even up to this day (making it the longest running film in history) have resulted in an astounding $113 million domestic gross. Famous for its allure as an audience-participation event, this adaptation of the stage musical works just fine as a solo viewing at home, with no resultant diminishment of its highlights: the film homages, the vibrant set design, the musical numbers “Science Fiction/Double Feature,” “Sweet Transvestite,” “Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me” and especially “Time Warp,” the sight of a young Susan Sarandon as Janet (“Dammit Janet”), and particularly the sensational performance by Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter.

Extras in the 4K edition include an alternate version with a black-and-white opening; audio commentary by Richard O’Brien, the show’s creator, co-scripter, and co-star (Riff Raff), and co-star Patricia Quinn (Magenta); a trivia track; a karaoke version (here called a Rocky-oke version); alternate takes on various scenes; the deleted song “Once in a While”; and the music video for “Time Warp.”

Movie: ★★★

SALVADOR (1986). “I’m a fucking weasel,” admits journalist Richard Boyle (James Woods) to his girlfriend María (Elpedia Carrillo) in writer-director Oliver Stone’s Salvador, and the man speaks the truth. He’s a lying, boozing, cheating, whoring lowlife, and yet he’s still a better man than all the U.S. government suits who feverishly worked to keep brutal right-wing dictatorships in power during the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s. Because for all of his faults, Boyle genuinely cared about the plight of the common person in El Salvador, a country gripped in the throes of a civil war that lasted 12 years and claimed tens of thousands of innocent victims. At first, the freelance Boyle, traveling with his buddy Dr. Rock (Jim Belushi), heads to the country mainly for hedonistic purposes, but he soon realizes the extent of the brutalities being committed against the citizenry by the government’s death squads. Frequently tagging along with daredevil photojournalist John Cassady (an intense John Savage), he fearlessly places his own life in danger, all the while hoping to protect María from any harm. Stone (co-scripting with the real-life Boyle) offers real names in some instances and serves up fictional ones in others — either way, the snatched-from-history moments are clearly punched across, including the assassination of pacifist Archbishop Oscar Romero and, in a brutal sequence that’s almost unwatchable, the rape and murder of four American women, three of them nuns. Stone’s other 1986 release, Platoon, earned eight Oscar nominations and won four (including Best Picture and Best Director), but Salvador wasn’t completely ignored, as it earned nominations for Best Actor (Woods) and Best Original Screenplay.

4K extras include audio commentary by Stone; a making-of piece; interviews with Stone, Woods, and Savage; and deleted scenes.

Movie: ★★★½

TOUCHÉ TURTLE AND DUM DUM: THE COMPLETE SERIES (1962-1963). Allow me to consult my crystal ball and make a bold prediction: In the near future, animation aficionados will be treated to Blu-ray editions of the toon series Wally Gator and Lippy the Lion and Hardy Har Har. OK, maybe it’s not that bold a declaration, more a case of elementary, my dear Watson. In 1962, The New Hanna-Barbera Cartoon Series debuted in syndication, with each episode offering one segment apiece of Touché Turtle and Dum Dum, Wally Gator, and Lippy the Lion and Hardy Har Har. The show lasted for 52 episodes, with each individual segment running approximately five to seven minutes apiece. The Warner Archive Collection has just released a Blu-ray set offering all 52 segments featuring Touché Turtle and Dum Dum, so it stands to reason that the outfit plans to release the other two toons in their own sets. Touché Turtle is a swashbuckling hero in a half-shell (I love that the show was called La tortuga D’Artagnan in Spain, a nice nod to Dumas and his Musketeers) while Dum Dum is his canine companion. Neither is particularly bright, but both are goodhearted and seek to right wrongs all over the world — and all throughout time as well, as various episodes see them traveling to the Wild West (“Billy the Cad”), medieval England (“Loser Takes All”), and other past destinations. Literary sources are also tapped in such episodes as “Whale of a Tale” (Moby-Dick), “Romeo, Touché and Juliet,” and “Aliblabber and the Forty Thieves.” Like many H-B productions, Touché Turtle and Dum Dum isn’t particularly distinguished in either its animation or its storylines, but it’s a perfectly pleasant way to relax and pass the time.

There are no Blu-ray extras.

Series: ★★½

FILM CLIPS

BLACK SAMSON (1974). Here’s a blaxploitation romp that adds an eccentric vibe to the usual “black neighborhood vs. the Mafia” formula. Rockne Tarkington is the title hero, a nightclub owner who carries a big stick and whose best friend is a lion that lounges around in his venue but never eats any of the customers. Samson helps keep the hood clean, so he’s not exactly thrilled when gangster Johnny Nappa (the perpetually sneering William Smith) decides the area would be swell for the mob’s drug-dealing operations. The racist, sexist Nappa is such an odious character that he not only terrorizes Samson’s significant other (Carol Speed) but also beats his own girlfriend (Connie Strickland) to a bloody pulp — it’s only a matter of time before he gets his comeuppance from Samson, which occurs in a wild climax in which the neighborhood locals take to the streets to battle the invading mobsters.

The only Blu-ray extra is the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★½

FLOW (2024). Hailing from Latvia, this Oscar winner for Best Animated Feature follows a cat and various other animals as they try to navigate their way through a suddenly flooded world. What happened to all the humans? Why is the water so high? Even more than The Wild Robot — another animated treat that joined Flow on my 10 Best of 2024 list — this feels vaguely futuristic, with even the more commonplace scenarios exhibiting a surreal sheen due to the unique animation. The animals, created (like the whole film) via a free software program, are not anthropomorphized, instead speaking only in their native meows, barks, grunts, and chitters. And for the most part, they’ll allowed to act like real animals, which at this point in time feels positively revolutionary for a toon tale.

Blu-ray extras include audio commentary by writer-director Gints Zibalodis; a making-of feature; a discussion with Zibalodis; and his 2019 animated feature Away.

Movie: ★★★½

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM … FOR HALLOWEEN

THE BLOB (1958). One of the most instantly recognizable science fiction flicks from the 1950s — and certainly one of the most influential (everyone from Woody Allen to Homer Simpson has paid it tribute) — The Blob is interesting in how it welds together a monster movie with the sort of teen angst drama that was popular in the wake of 1955’s Rebel Without a Cause. Of course, even with the presence of Steve McQueen (billed here as “Steven McQueen”) in his first starring role, the kid stuff can’t touch the complexity exhibited in the James Dean classic, meaning it’s a good thing the real star of the show is the gelatinous mound rather than any of the human characters. After a campy opening song composed by an uncredited Burt Bacharach(!), the film gets right down to business, as a small meteor lands on the outskirts of a small Pennsylvania town. An elderly hermit (Olin Howlin) cracks it open, only to quickly find its gooey contents engulfing his hand; two teen sweethearts (McQueen and Aneta Corseaut) drive him to town for help, but the ever-growing blob’s feeding frenzy is only beginning. Filmed in color (unusual for most low-budget chillers of the era), the film occasionally drags when the blob is MIA, but the horror highlights — the dark tussle in the doctor’s office, the hapless mechanic under the car, the movie theater mayhem, the diner siege — remain exciting. This was feebly remade in 1988; more interesting is the fact that it was followed by a 1972 sequel titled Beware! The Blob. Directed by Dallas star Larry Hagman, the sequel was rereleased a decade later with the witty tagline, “The Film That J.R. Shot!”

Movie: ★★★

COUNTESS DRACULA (1971). In truth, the only connection between Countess Dracula and Bram Stoker’s creation is found in the title and, late in the film, the murmuring of peasants. The movie is actually a fictionalized look at the real–life figure of Elizabeth Báthory, a 16th-century countess known for torturing and murdering hundreds of girls over a span of 25 years. The legend that she bathed in the blood of these women in the belief that it would help maintain her youth has never been proven, but this picture runs with that theory. Here, the renamed Countess Elisabeth Nodosheen (Ingrid Pitt) first discovers that her wrinkles disappear after she’s accidentally splashed by the blood of a servant who’s cut herself; inspired, the elderly noblewoman then begins killing unfortunates in order to preserve her newfound youth. To avoid suspicion, she poses as her own daughter Ilona (Lesley-Anne Down), who’s been away for years, and commences a relationship with a young lieutenant (Sandor Elès). Her lover, the cruel Captain Dobi (Nigel Green), knows her secret and grows jealous of the attention she bestows on the smitten officer; for his part, the castle historian (Maurice Denham) is left out of the loop but begins to put the pieces together. This latter-day entry in the Hammer horror cycle boasts fine acting and a suitably grungy atmosphere, but the script gets unforgivably sloppy during the final half-hour, with some nonsensical plotting and an abrupt ending.

Movie: ★★½

DRACULA UNTOLD (2014). Or, Batman begins. Forget Captain America being the first Avenger. Who could possibly have guessed that Dracula would be revealed as the first superhero? Certainly, Bram Stoker never imagined that his literary creation would one day be deemed more powerful than a runaway stagecoach. And history’s own Vlad III, whose gruesome modus operandi of mounting corpses on stakes earned him the nickname Vlad the Impaler, would likewise be startled to learn that he had the ability to leap over tall castles with a single bound. Yet that’s the takeaway from this dirt-dry dud that never feels like a horror flick as much as it registers as a superhero saga on the order of Superman or X-Men: First Class. Yet unlike those worthy yarns, this belongs to that subset of useless prequels/origin tales that absolutely no one demanded, like Butch and Sundance: The Early Days or Dumb and Dumberer: When Harry Met Lloyd. The film begins with Vlad Tepes (Luke Evans) wanting to impale no more. Tired of hoisting all those bodies onto really pointy sticks, he figures it was just a youthful indiscretion and has moved on by marrying the lovely Mirena (Sarah Gadon) and ruling with a benevolent hand. But the Turkish Mehmed (Dominic Cooper), whose facial stylings and coifed hair mark him less as a conqueror and more as a fashion designer borrowed from America’s Next Top Model, plans to overrun Vlad’s peaceful kingdom, so The Despot Formerly Known As The Impaler comes up with a desperate plan. He will journey to the cave of the Master Vampire (Charles Dance, stealing the show) and beg to be given the superhuman strength of a bloodsucking creature of the night. From this point forward, the picture becomes one long CGI demo reel, with spastic special effects dominating the proceedings.

Movie: ★½

THE INNOCENTS (1961). With apologies to such terrific works as The Uninvited, The Haunting, and The Others, it’s probably safe to say that The Innocents is the most revered of all cinematic ghost stories, with its legion of admirers including such luminaries as Martin Scorsese and the late François Truffaut. Of course, is it really a ghost story? That’s the debate that has surrounded not only the film but also its literary antecedent, Henry James’ classic novella The Turn of the Screw. Set in Victorian England, this stars an excellent Deborah Kerr as Miss Giddens, a minister’s daughter who finds employment as governess to a pair of orphaned children banished to a remote estate by their disinterested uncle (Michael Redgrave). Miss Giddens finds the kids, perky Flora (Pamela Franklin) and polite Miles (Martin Stephens), to be absolute delights, but that changes once she comes to believe that a pair of specters are haunting the grounds. Are the children in cahoots with the ghosts, or are they actually being possessed by them? Or do the spirits only exist in the mind of a sheltered, repressed governess with no real-world experience to call her own? Everything works in this classic chiller, from the pungent atmosphere created by director Jack Clayton and director of photography Freddie Francis to the sexually steeped — and often morbidly amusing — script by William Archibald (who had earlier created a stage play based on the James tale) and Truman Capote. Kudos, also, to child actors Franklin and Stephens, who are able to switch from cuddly to creepy at a moment’s notice. In 1971, a different set of filmmakers created The Nightcomers, a prequel (starring Marlon Brando) detailing the circumstances that led up to the events related in James’ story and Clayton’s movie.

Movie: ★★★½

JEEPERS CREEPERS (2001). “Jeepers Creepers” composers Johnny Mercer and Harry Warren must have been spinning in their graves upon the theatrical release of this absurd horror yarn, in which a cannibalistic winged demon goes on a murderous rampage whenever he hears the title tune. (Personally, Phil Collins’ “Sussudio” and Magic!’s “Rude” are the only songs that would conceivably make me take a hatchet to someone’s head, but I digress.) Adding a slick contempo sheen to the Texas Chain Saw Massacre template (thereby ignoring the grimy, low-budget look that made that 1974 classic so disturbing), this finds two college-age siblings (well-played by Gina Philips and Justin Long) stranded in the middle of Nowhere, USA, stopping to investigate when they spot a menacing figure (Jonathan Breck) dropping bodies down a pipe (their reasons for not calling the police are witless even beyond the low-ebb demands of the slasher genre). They find a basement full of corpses but, even worse, they learn that the Creeper (a cross between Freddy Krueger and the Creature from the Black Lagoon) is now after them. Lapses in plotting and logic are tossed out at such a breakneck speed, you wonder if writer-director Victor Salva was going for some sort of world record. (My favorites: Why does a being with the ability to fly at incredible speeds spend most of his time driving around in a beat-up truck? And how on earth did he acquire a personalized license plate?) The unsatisfying ending exists only to justify the title and set things up for a sequel which popped up two years later (never saw, never will).

Movie: ★½

TALES FROM THE CRYPT PRESENTS DEMON KNIGHT (1995) / TALES FROM THE CRYPT PRESENTS BORDELLO OF BLOOD (1996). The HBO series Tales From the Crypt proved to be so popular (it ran for seven seasons between 1989 and 1996) that it was no surprise an attempt was made to transport that success to the big screen by way of a trilogy. The first picture was a modest hit, but the second bombed so badly that plans for the third entry were scrapped.

That initial outing, Demon Knight, is clearly the best bet of the pair. In the grand good-vs.-evil tradition, this finds the demonic Collector (Billy Zane) squaring off against the heaven-sent Brayker (William Sadler) as they wrestle for control of a key containing the blood of Christ. Their battle takes place in a dilapidated motel where the staff (Jada Pinkett, CCH Pounder) and guests (Brenda Bakke and Dick Miller, among others) get caught up in bodily possessions and copious bloodletting. Demon Knight is no great shakes when it comes to originality — it’s basically Romero Lite — but a strong cast and capable direction by Ernest Dickerson (Spike Lee’s former cinematographer, now almost exclusively a helmer of episodic TV) provide this with some lift.

Bordello of Blood, on the other hand, proves to be a tough slog, with a workable premise defeated by clumsy plotting and miscast actors. And no one is more ill at ease than lead Dennis Miller, who drew on his stand-up roots and improvised most of his lame wisecracks, none as witty or smart as those he whipped out during his brief stint on NFL Monday Night Football. He plays a private investigator hired by the prim and proper assistant (Erika Eleniak) of a TV evangelist (Chris Sarandon) to locate her missing brother (Corey Feldman); the path leads the PI to a funeral home serving as HQ for a centuries-old vampire (Angie Everhart) and her ladies of the night. Sadler, the hero of Demon Knight, appears as a mummy in the wraparound segments featuring series star The Crypt Keeper (voiced by John Kassir).

Tales From the Crypt Presents Demon Knight: ★★½

Tales From the Crypt Presents Bordello of Blood: ★½