Category: DVD/BLU-RAY

In perhaps one of the weirdest movie openings I've ever encountered, 1979's "Giallo in Venice" commences with a brutal murder (a man getting stabbed in the stomach repeatedly with scissors), a reveal of two dead bodies, and the use of big band music to score the immediate nightmare. It's the first sign that director Mario Landi isn't exactly paying close attention to the mood of severe scenes, but there's a certain loopy charm in the feature's absurdity, at least until it reaches unimaginable acts of violence that not only sober the picture up, but puts it down a point of no return. "Giallo in Venice" is a lot of things, but tonally balanced is not one of them. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

There wasn't a person around who expected the January, 1972 airing of "The Night Stalker" on ABC to produce record ratings, but when the movie collected a massive audience to watch a newspaper reporter take on the creatures of the night, the money men wanted another instalment. A quickie production, airing a year later, "The Night Strangler" returns to the world of Carl Kolchak and his uncanny ability to be present when supernatural evil rises up to claim lives. For the first installment of the series, a vampire was up to no good, but for "The Night Strangler," the perpetrator is something a bit more complicated, with writer Richard Matheson making some attempt to shake up expectations for the second go-around. Originality isn't big with the sequel, but it retains McGavin and his ability to huff and mug his way through the dullest of scenes, giving his second time with Kolchak needed agitation for a production that's stuck in full rehash mode. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com 

There was once a time when a television movie could bring the nation together. In 1972, the event was "The Night Stalker," a low-budget production meant to act as entertaining filler for ABC's weekly schedule in January, only to pique the curiosity of almost the entire viewing audience. It was a hit, a massive success for the network and producer Dan Curtis (who created "Dark Shadows"), who found an immediate response to something as potentially frivolous as a detective tale featuring the hunt for a vampire. While certainly a case could be made that sheer oddity made people stay home the evening "The Night Stalker" aired, there's something a little more than just shock value here, with director John Llewellyn Moxey finding a proper investigative tone to keep the short (75 minutes) feature on the move, while screenwriter Richard Matheson (adapting an unpublished book by Jeffrey Grant Rice) fills the effort with idiosyncrasy and discovery, rewarding viewer attention with a propulsive genre offering that knows what it wants to accomplish, ditching complexity for a solid offering of chills and Las Vegas exploration. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

In 1986, the release of Oliver Stone's "Platoon" changed everything for pictures about the Vietnam War. Suddenly, these stories about hellacious, confusing combat and the psychological scars inflicted could bring in sizable numbers at the box office, and even be rewarded with Oscar gold. Vietnam became big business for Hollywood, with 1988's "Bat 21" (stylized as "Bat*21") part of a producer push to get tales of war up on screens as fast as possible. Screenwriters George Gordon and William C. Anderson (adapting his own book) have the gray area of "Based on a True Story" to play with, detailing the U.S. military's considerable efforts to collect one man shot down over enemy terrain. They split the story into two distinct extremes of combat, trying to soften the rah-rah concept of search and rescue with intermittent reflections on the cold, bloody brutality of war. Director Peter Markle ("Hot Dog…The Movie") is caught between the extremes, and while he fashions a competent survival adventure, he has more trouble pinpointing the message of "Bat 21," which is lost somewhere between explosive action sequences and moments where star Gene Hackman is asked to portray guilt as his character encounters dead bodies for the first time. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

In 1991, writer/director Matty Rich made some noise on the independent film scene with "Straight Out of Brooklyn," his ode to the pains of life in the projects. It was a no-budget endeavor that went out into a world in the mood for such stories of the black experience, managing to clear a modest profit and drum up support for Rich, who was a teenager during production. 1994's "The Inkwell" represents Rich's real test as a moviemaker, handed decent money and the support of Disney to create a nostalgic ode to the summer of 1976, tasked with bringing a coming-of-age dramedy from screenwriters Trey Ellis and Paris Qualles to life. Unfortunately, the painfully amateurish elements of "Straight Out of Brooklyn" were no accident, finding Rich belly flopping with his follow-up. Unable to control tone or performance, Rich sprays the screen with random emotions and obnoxiously broad acting, dimming whatever brightness of spirit and power of memory "The Inkwell" is trying to communicate. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

While he's taken on the vast subjects of baseball, the Vietnam and Civil War, and jazz, documentarian Ken Burns goes very specific for "The Mayo Clinic: Faith, Hope, Science." Joined by co-directors Christopher Loren Ewers and Erik Ewers, Burns delves into the history and philosophy of the "miracle in the corn field," creating a two-hour-long understanding of perhaps the most celebrated medical institution in the world, which sits in small town Minnesota. "The Mayo Clinic" is as professionally assembled as the rest of Burns's work, deftly piecing together an overview of the hospital and its influence on the medical community, but it's also a profound summary of human potential and compassion. Burns isn't providing a cold read of facts, instead weaving together the particulars of progress while reinforcing what makes the facility so respected and successful, sending the work out into the world to remind the viewing audience that something other than a complete submission to profit can work in the healthcare industry. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

1962's "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?" reignited interest in Joan Crawford's career, also giving the world the rise of "Hagsploitation," where older actresses could dominate screens once again with material that plays to their aging appearances. Jumping on the chance to use a newly in- demand Crawford is William Castle, noted architect of "ballyhoo" cinema, and a man who knew exactly how to bring in an audience using the art of the gimmick. For 1964's "Strait-Jacket," the pull would be Crawford, who's tasked with creating a dimensional character out of an ax murderer. Castle uses the inherent ugliness of beheading to prime the creative pump, but the majority of "Strait-Jacket" belongs to Crawford, who huffs and puffs her way throughout the picture, giving it a rhythm of intensity it needs as it plows through Robert Bloch's screenplay, which isn't completely convinced that maniac mode is the best way to make it from start to finish. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

To help make his directorial debut emerge as something special, Ryan Prows (who also scripts with four other people) tries to make something very upsetting. "Lowlife" is a tribute to underworld crime films, especially one with Tarantinio-esque zigs and zags, with the movie explored in a distinctly non-linear fashion, opening opportunities for Prows to surprise. Viewers have been here before, but "Lowlife" does retain a certain oddity as it dips a few toes into the pooled sweat of Luchador cinema, while its quest to remain unpredictable for the first hour is laudable, before the whole things starts to feel like a chore to watch. Prows has the right inspiration, but stamina is difficult to come by in this knotted thriller, which is filled with grotesqueries and despair, hoping to make a dent in a subgenre that's been fully exhausted over the last 25 years. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

The helming team of Francois Simard, Anouk Whissell, and Yoann-Karl Whissell is known as RKSS, and a few years ago, they reached into the past to inspire their post-apocalyptic adventure "Turbo Kid." A cheeky ode to VHS entertainment from the 1980s, video games, and teen cinema, "Turbo Kid" presented a valentine and a lampoon, building an enchanting low-budget world with exaggerated retro flair. RKSS returns to their childhood with "Summer of 84," with this round skipping silliness to delve into a murder mystery of sorts, staying in the warm bath of adolescent entanglements, but pushing the mood into something more threatening. There's a lot of sleuthing going in "Summer of 84," and while the title suggests a nostalgic romp around one of the best moviegoing seasons of the 1980s, RKSS actually dials down cutesiness for something darker and slower. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com 

Director Gerard Damiano enjoys toying with taboos. While achieving his greatest success in adult cinema ("Deep Throat"), the helmer has never actually seemed like he enjoys his work, often attempting to break down eroticism to its most pained points of submission and madness. Attempting to follow a second hit ("The Devil in Miss Jones") with another brain-bleeder, Damiano touches on isolation and insanity with "Memories Within Miss Aggie," which isn't even remotely sensual despite multiple sequences of sexual activity. It's more of psychological horror movie, and one can feel Damiano's eyes rolling when he has to deal with hardcore couplings, showing far more interest in chills and shocks while building a "Psycho"-esque story of one woman's gradual disconnect from reality. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

While Chris Elliott developed a cult following during his years as the resident weirdo on "Late Night with David Letterman," there was no guarantee his audience was going to follow him once he left the beloved talk show. There was the problematic run of the Fox comedy, "Get a Life," but 1994's "Cabin Boy" was the real test of Elliott's lasting appeal, challenging fans to actually make a trip to the multiplex and spend money on his alt-comedy antics, with co-producer Tim Burton adding some creative legitimacy to the Disney production. "Cabin Boy" was a spectacular bomb 24 years ago, becoming an industry punchline, and it's easy to see why the movie failed to entice anyone beyond the completely devoted into theaters. It's not that the picture is lazy, it certainly isn't, but it's entirely dependent on Elliott's ability to be the center of attention, which isn't the best use of his particular sense of humor. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

First and foremost, 1989's "The House on Tombstone Hill" has a bit of trouble with titles. It was shot as "The Road," and presented on Blu-ray as "The Dead Come Home." The feature was ultimately sold to the video market as "Dead Dudes in the House," with Troma Films electing to entice renters not paying close attention to the details of the picture by pushing the effort as a hip-hop comedy, with title font that resembles a UPN pilot. It's a wild, wacky world of identification for the endeavor, with "The House on Tombstone Hill" the most accurate description of the material, which plays like a slasher version of an HGTV show, pitting home rehabbers against a ghostly opponent who enjoys killing those with big plans for her house. Writer/director James Riffel aims to please with a low-budget chiller, and while the movie has pacing and overcrowding issues, the helmer understands gore zone needs, keeping the feature excitable with violent encounters and panicking characters, offering a simple ride of single location terror. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

In an interesting creative quest, writer/director Valeska Grisebach takes the mood, characters, and conventions of the American western movie and replants them near Eastern Europe. She keeps the attitude and the bulging masculinity, but the setting has changed, finding that most of what's used in American cinema applies everywhere with a little finesse. "Western" sustains such experimentation throughout its run time, with Grisebach crafting an effective experiment that eventually becomes its own dramatic creation, and one that's deepened with unusual, pained characters and a Bulgarian setting that's not normally associated with cowboy adventures. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

1993's "Body Melt" is one of Australia's rare forays into gross-out territory during the decade, with co-writer/director Philip Brophy aiming to generate is own swirling brew of liquefied body parts, social commentary, and regional extremity. Brophy's backed by quite a varied cast and a solid team of energized tech departments, aiming to make the feature appropriately disgusting and slick for a B-movie, with the effort retaining all sorts of disgusting visuals while maintaining a professional edge, missing the questionable grunginess this type of entertainment usually provides. "Body Melt" isn't big on story or connective tissue between subplots, but it does maintain menace, often the cheeky sort, giving the viewer exactly what the title promises, tricked out some with a defined Aussie sensibility. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com 

A BBC production, "The Miniaturist" is an adaption of Jessie Burton's 2014 novel, which explored the mystery and shock of a young woman pushed into an arranged marriage in 1686, experiencing a rush of turmoil in Amsterdam while dealing with an enigmatic craftsman using miniature dolls and furniture to communicate with the new bride. The material has been hammered into place over three episodes of crisis and suspicion, with Burton's plotting making an easy transition to the ways of BBC programming, which always seems to favor period settings, tight corsets, and characters experiencing all types of strife. "The Miniaturist" starts out very strong, but it struggles to maintain energy and shock value as it distributes horrors to most of its players, often electing to go the soap opera route out of fear of losing its audience with a more sophisticated take on an interestingly bizarre tale of stalking and identity. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Perhaps writer/director Ken Wiederhorn just wasn't in the mood to manufacture an intense sequel to 1985's "Return of the Living Dead," possibly fearful that he couldn't recreate the limited magic helmer Dan O'Bannon brought to the original picture. The first film wasn't a sobering look at the birth of a zombie apocalypse, but a grungy, gory genre romp that dived into complete goofiness from time to time. 1988's "Return of the Living Dead: Part II" does away with any seriousness, becoming a slapstick comedy that just so happens to detail the premier horror experience of running away from the undead. Wiederhorn goes wild with "Part II," invested in making a gut-buster, not a fright machine, offering a rather severe tonal change that demands viewers relax a lot of expectations, especially for anything even remotely scary. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

We all know Eugene Levy as an ace comedian with a lengthy history of dynamite performances, even securing legend status with his work on "SCTV." However, in the 1990s, Levy was looking to build a directorial career for himself, stepping behind the camera to try his hand at crafting funny business using his distinctive sense of humor. 1992's "Once Upon a Crime" is Levy's big feature-length helming debut, and to secure some interest in the creative endeavor, he's collected quite a cast to help bring the screenplay (co-written by Charles Shyer and Nancy Meyers) to life. Trouble is, "Once Upon a Crime" fails to follow through on its initial promise, with Levy so concerned about achieving the speed of a proper farce, he misses nailing as many jokes as possible. The picture isn't very funny, which feels like a crime itself, wasting considerable talents on fruitless mischief often performed at top volume. One can easily sense Levy's intent with the project, but the results are disheartening to watch. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Make no mistake, Jocelyn Moorhouse is a very talented filmmaker. She's proved herself with pictures such as "Proof," "How to Make an American Quilt," and the recent Kate Winslet dark comedy, "The Dressmaker." Most helmers have rough patches, and Moorhouse finds hers with 1997's "A Thousand Acres," which not only gives her an impressive cast to manage, but there's the source material, with the feature an adaptation of a 1991 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Jane Smiley, which originally attempted to rework the characters and themes of Shakespeare's "King Lear," moving the setting to a family farm in the 1990s. I doubt few directors could successfully carry the pressure to realize a beloved, respected book, but Moorhouse stumbles particularly hard here, showing uncharacteristic ineptitude with performances and basic editing, making a laborious soap opera that's loaded with half-baked drama and characterization. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

With a title like "Dear Dead Delilah" (not to be confused with the recent Blu-ray release of "Deadly Daphne's Revenge"), there's a certain expectation put in place for a sinister tale of murder, with the possibility of a ghost story setting. Writer/director John Farris doesn't exactly pursue a hardcore tale of diabolical happenings, preferring to settle into the dismissive ways of southern folk in Tennessee as they deal with plantation life, a hidden inheritance, and a rising body count due to the presence of an ax-swinging killer. Farris prefers family business over chopped-up bodies, making "Dear Dead Delilah" more of a psychodrama than a slasher film. There's some disappointment with the end results, but Farris isn't completely removed from the demands of the genre, putting together a few suspenseful scenes, one genuinely weird kill, and nurtures fine performances from the cast, with lead Agnes Moorehead giving the helmer more than he deserves as the titular woman, who's very much alive during the endeavor. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Co-writer/director Fritz Bohm crafts a Grimm Brothers-like tale in "Wildling," which doesn't set out to redefine the monster movie, enjoying a chance to play in the subgenre sandbox while dreaming up a few fresh ideas of its own. It's a dark picture, often quite literally, and one with a plan to sneak up on audiences with scenes of unexplained behavior and baffling personalities, with hopes that when clarification sets in, the feature will have a tight grip on viewers. "Wildling" gets mostly there thanks to a chilling tone and capable performances, and while Bohm doesn't always have the most original vision for the central metamorphosis, there's a momentum to the endeavor that's compelling, and its general direction toward macabre discoveries is periodically hair-raising. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com