Brain Blasters

Bela Lugosi has certainly had his share of collections and box sets hitting the stands, but now, belatedly, Boris Karloff has some sets of his own, and we’re not talking cheap public domain films from late in his career.

Universal, where Karloff became a star with Frankenstein, has released, as part of their Franchise Collection, The Boris Karloff Collection. There are five films here: Night Key (1937), Tower of London (1939), The Climax (1944), The Strange Door (1951) and...The Black Castle (1952). Welcome as these films are to DVD, they are, generally speaking, far from being among Karloff’s most memorable films. But that is largely because his biggest Universal pictures have already appeared either in the Frankenstein or Lugosi collections. These aren’t really horror movies, either. Most are period pieces, with Karloff playing secondary roles. He’s the primary antagonist in The Climax, though, which is a Phantom of the Opera variation sans make-up. The standout is Tower of London, where Karloff is the clubfooted, murderous servant of Basil Rathbone’s even more murderous Richard III.

The next time someone talks about The Sixth Sense having an original twist ending, sit them down and force them to watch Carnival of Souls (1962).

Spoiler warning. If you haven’t seen either of these films, or generally have no idea what I’m talking about, stop reading now. Go away. Come back next week. You don’t want to be hear. God knows, I might spoil the twist in The Crying Game while I’m at it.

Greatness can be aspired to. Its achievement can be the driving goal behind a film. But its realization comes down so often to the kinds of intangibles that frustrate efforts to control or create. And this applies to greatness whether the work is good or not. That’s right, today, we’re musing about greatness in the negative (but therefore curiously positive sense): the films that are so bad they’re great.

I don’t think anything more clearly illustrates the difficulty in reaching this special kind of greatne...s than the case of Uwe Boll. There is no doubt that his films are staggeringly bad. The man’s dogged determination to continue pumping out product and foisting it on a unwilling world is testament to just the kind of boneheaded commitment required of the artiste maudit. He even shows a willingness to experiment (ill-advisedly) with the form, and he inspires the worst in otherwise talented casts and writers. And let us pause for a moment at the recent spectacle of his literal boxing matches with his critics. You have to admire that. There’s even a consistency to his body of work, in that it consists of the demolition of one video game after another: House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, BloodRayne, the forthcoming Dungeon Siege and Postal.

William Peter Blatty might seem a slightly odd candidate for discussion in this space. After all, he wrote and produced The Exorcist, whose enormous mainstream success makes it rather suspect as a cult film. Ditto for another of Blatty’s screenplays: A Shot in the Dark, which is arguably the best of the Pink Panther movies. But as a director, ah, there we start getting closer to cult status. He has made two films. The Exorcist III (1990) is his best-known effort, and is debatably a cult movie. Ve...y little debate is necessary regarding his other work: The Ninth Configuration (1980).

A couple of words about The Exorcist III to begin with. Of all the sequels and prequels to the landmark original, this is the only one that really stands up to scrutiny. It is, granted, a flawed work. It’s low-key, character-driven mood is broken by the sudden over-the-top pyrotechnics of the climactic exorcism, but we can’t entirely blame Blatty for that. The story, in a nutshell, goes something like this: Blatty gets the green light to film his novel Legion. He comes up with the perfect ending for his story. Studio suits tell him that the title has to be changed to The Exorcist III or no one will know it’s a sequel. Fine, he changes the title. Then he’s told there’s another problem: there’s no exorcism in the film, and how can it be called The Exorcist III if there’s no exorcism in it? You can figure out the rest.

The serial is an extinct form of movie-going experience. Right up to the fifties, your movie ticket got you not only the main feature, a B-feature, cartoons, a newsreel and other shorts, but an episode of a serial. Usually running 12 or 15 chapters, the serial would unspool in 15-20-minute units, each ending in a cliffhanger (often quite literally so, with the hero or heroine plunging off a cliff in a runaway car, for instance). George Lucas pays tribute to the serials in his Star Wars films, which begin with ...he traditional recapitulating crawl and chapter titles.

Many, many serials are available on DVD, and since most of these titles are in the public domain, you’ll find multiple editions of the same title, with print and transfer quality varying wildly. The rule of thumb here, is, as with everything else, that you get what you pay for, so don’t expect a miraculous viewing experience if you only dropped a couple of dollars on your disc. Major-label re-issues are your best bet. The Adventures of Captain Marvel, for instance, released by Republic Pictures, is a pretty solid package.

Well, it’s that festive time of the year, and what could be more appropriate than the remake of Black Christmas hitting the theatres on December 25? Now, I haven’t seen this film, of course, but the advance word is not encouraging. Head on over to www.dreadcentral.com and you’ll see that it seems that directors Glen Morgan and James Wong know how to do comedic horror (Final Destination), but have no idea how to play things straight. Sounds like we have another fine mess on our hands. But the remake has ...ad a good result in the re-release on DVD of the 1974 original. While the new version has lost some of the features of the previous release, it is now in 5.1. Whatever the home video version one watches, however, this is a terrific film, and perfectly perverse counter-programming.

Director Bob Clark has had an extremely eclectic career. Anyone who manages to have both Porky’s and the Sherlock-Holmes-versus-Jack-the-Ripper effort Murder by Decree on their resume isn’t in any danger of being stuck in a rut. But he also must be one of the few directors to have made not one but TWO significant Christmas movies: Black Christmas and A Christmas Story. Different enough for ya?

Old fogey time. When I first encountered Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K, don’t you know), it was an authentically viral phenomenon. This would have been circa 1993. It was still on the Comedy Network, a station that very few of us in the Great White North had access to. But the closing credits ordered, “Keep Circulating Those Tapes,” and people did. Often, this meant viewing the episodes in multi-duped EP versions so muzzy the dialogue was barely audible, but enough was discernible to know that we were w...tching sheer genius.

A few years later, things become easier. Rhino started releasing episodes on VHS. Renting became a possibility, as did outright purchase, as the prices were eminently reasonable. Flash forward to today. More and more episodes are being released to DVD. At first, there was a mere trickle (two episodes per case), but now multi-volume box sets are the order of the day. So too, unfortunately, is a concomitant increase in price. MST3K is a wonderful show, but not all the episodes are equally funny. Joel, Mike and the ‘bots had some pretty grim movies to work with, and not all of them turned out to be gold mines of humour. But the best episodes have a tendency to reduce one to lethal paroxysms of laughter, and these are well worth the effort to track down.

I’ve danced around the subject a few times already, but I haven’t directly dealt with Edward D. Wood Jr. in this column yet. Frankly, to do so seems rather superfluous. If you’re reading these words, you are in all likelihood intimately familiar with the great man’s work. So I’m not going to do any kind of survey or intro here. Instead, this is something of a plea.

Cult film fans have long been used to having to view their faves under conditions that are often less than ideal. Ten or fifteen years ago, befo...e the full onslaught of the DVD, and when most people didn’t own laser disc players, awful bootleg VHS was often the only alternative. Fortunately, this was never the case with Wood. There were plenty of legit releases of his work, especially those that had fallen into the public domain.

A few weeks ago, I profiled Cult Epics, which has become the reigning king when it comes to DVD companies specializing in vintage sexploitation, erotica, and the like. That position is likely to remain pretty secure for some time, what with the release of such treasures as The Irving Klaw Classics box set, but there are a couple of recent contenders for the throne that have just come to my attention, so I thought I’d say a few words about them. These are Private Screening Collection and Severin Films.

< ...>Both firms have about a half-dozen or so titles out so far, and both specialize exclusively (to date) in the erotic (right down to their logos). There’s a further point of connection, too, if only an indirect one: Private Screening’s focus is on producer Harry Alan Towers, while Severin has released two films by Jess Franco, who made several films for Towers (though you’ll have to see Blue Underground for those collaborations). The similarities end there, though.

If the exploitation film is the dark underbelly of mainstream cinema, then the rape revenge movie is the dark underbelly (or one of those dark underbellies) of the exploitation film. It is a form that has more exemplars than many would like to think, and has extended its tendrils into the mainstream, whether that be in the form of made-for-TV movies or theatrical ones. Carol Clover, in her excellent study Men, Women and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film sees a direct link between the most notorious o... the rape revenge films – I Spit On Your Grave (1978) – and the Oscar -winner The Accused (1988). One, though, she argues, is more honest in the way it confronts the issues than the other, and the honest one is not the one starring Jodie Foster.

I Spit On Your Grave is undoubtedly a nasty piece of work, what with its near-interminable rape scene that makes one sigh with relief once the castration gets going, but there is another film arguably even more unpleasant, and certainly even more peculiar: Thriller: A Cruel Picture (1974). This was released, in truncated form, in the States as They Call Her One Eye, and its eye-patched heroine is the obvious visual inspiration for the Elle Driver character in Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill.