Regular Columns

As the reality TV phenomenon continues to evolve in much the same way as irradiated insects, it is perhaps time to go back and remember Series 7: The Contenders, a film that has lost none of its relevance since its release in 2001.

The film deals with a reality TV show called “The Contenders,” now in its seventh season. Contestants are selected in a lottery, and participation in the show is compulsory. The rules are simple: kill the other contestants. The winner is the last one standing, but that sim...ly means that person is off to the next season. Ultimately, the only way out of the show is feet-first.

Genre and cult fans have their pantheons of cinematic deities. Some of these immortals are currently active, some are not. Some are celebrated for their incompetence. But there are others who are deified for actually making great films. And it is always heartbreaking when idols totter on their pedestals. Consider the giants of the horror film who emerged in the 1970's, and where they are now. Wes Craven has done quite nicely for himself, thank you very much, but what has Tobe Hooper really and truly done for us since...The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? And is John Carpenter really going to end his feature film career with Ghosts of Mars? Say it isn’t so.

And now comes along Masters of Horror. The series is currently airing its second season, and much of the first is now out on DVD. The premise is fabulous: get the acknowledged giants of the field to make short films with very little constraints with regards to content. But the execution isn’t always as inspired as said premise. There certainly have been some pretty memorable episodes, but for my money, the most striking (even though it has its own flaws), is the one episode that never aired in North America: Takashi Miike’s insanely nasty “Imprint.” The current season is shaping up to be a disappointment: too many mediocre-to-pedestrian episodes, directed by people who hardly qualify as “masters” of the genre.

I thought this week I’d toss my two cents into the whole HD DVD/Blu-ray debate. Let’s be clear: I have no particular technical expertise, and I have no interest in attempting to judge which is the superior format (though I note with interest that, in the latest issue of Video Watchdog, editor Tim Lucas mentions that Blu-ray players are not compatible with standard DVDs). I’m approaching this from the point of view of a collector, and specifically a collector of cult films.

It may be that the format w...r is over before it begins, if Warner’s dual-format disc or the dual-format players turn out to be everything promised. If not, one very significant difference between this battle and the VHS/Beta war occurs to me. During the previous two-format period, whichever side you took, this didn’t really limit your viewing options (at least until Beta started losing). But with studios lining up in opposing camps, that means that whichever format you choose today, there will be plenty of movies that you will simply NOT be able to watch because they will be exclusively released on the competing format. Gee, and is it a surprise that the units aren’t flying off the shelves?

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.