ZOMBIE ISLAND MASSACRE - BLU-RAY REVIEW

In what is easily one of the most misleadingly-marketed films in exploitation movie history, John N. Carter’s ZOMBIE ISLAND MASSACRE (1983) conjures up all sorts of potentially exhilarating horror highlights in one’s mind, but for all of Troma’s colourful, tongue-in-cheek hyperbole, which promises such delights (!) as “Toe-Tapping Machete Head-Dances!” and “Glamourous Zombie-Style Cosmetic Surgery!” this rather insignificant and decidedly threadbare contribution to the ’Eighties horror craze never even comes close to living-up to its great title and equally-memorable poster art. In their attempt to bring a modicum of respect to the film’s lowly stature, Vinegar Syndrome have honoured it with a brand-new 2K transfer, which, at the very least, looks absolutely terrific on their new Blu-ray/DVD combo.  

Sandy (Rita Jenrette) and Joe (Ian McMillian), a young couple vacationing in the Caribbean, gather together with a number of other sightseers, including (quote) “ace photographer” Paul Morrison (David Broadnax, who was also one of the films’ co-writers), for a tour of the (quote) “fascinating island of San Marie.” Right upon their arrival, they witness a voodoo ritual where a moldy old corpse is revived with the help of an animal sacrifice (which, by the way, is the only time the film ever comes close to living up to its title). Although they quickly dismiss what they have seen as just an act, panic begins to set in among the group when a young newlywed couple and the tour’s bus driver go missing. In hopes of reaching a nearby house, the remaining tourists flee into the surrounding jungle, where they are picked-off one-by-one... 

Mildly diverting entertainment at best, ZIM is, if anything else, more akin to a modest, derivative slasher film, which even includes a gory beheading, an all-too-familiar Harry Manfredini score and a completely facile, head-scratching twist ending that makes you forget you’re even watching something titled ZOMBIE ISLAND MASSACRE. Providing the film with the requisite amount of topless nudity, Jenrette, already familiar to most audience members at the time as the former wife of scandalized U.S. Congressman John Jenrette (he was indicted on a number of bribery charges in the highly-publicized Abscam sting) and as a two-time Playboy model, Jenrette’s big-screen debut barely registers among all the disappearing bodies and assumed identities. Generally uneventful, ZOMBIE ISLAND MASSACRE is nothing more than a messily-scripted minor diversion which offers a few quick bursts of mindless violence, some nice location cinematography, but not much else. 

Continuing their ongoing exploration of the Troma vaults, VS’s Blu-ray/DVD combo features yet another first-class transfer, which not only restores ZIM’s proper 1.85:1 framing, but much of the film’s pictorial detail (including the colourful jungle foliage) that was previously obscured on Media Home Entertainment’s 1988 Beta / VHS videocassettes, and even on Troma’s own abysmal-quality DVD edition. While it’s far from an earth-shattering sound mix, the DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono track is also clean and crisp and perfectly accentuates the surrounding jungle locale. Unlike most of VS’s catalogue, extras this time around are limited to the film’s spirited theatrical trailer (2m40s, “Welcome to beautiful zombie island!”), a pair of TV spots (58s) and an enjoyable “Sizzle Reel” (13m51s) that was used to pitch the film to prospective buyers, and whose audio temp track includes most of Manfredini’s famous FRIDAY THE 13^th cues. In what has now become customary, VS also offers reversible cover art, and for those that order directly from them, it also includes a spiffy Limited Edition slipcover designed by Earl Kessler, Jr. Order it from Vinegar Syndrome here.

THE HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Following his ambitious, languorously-paced and much-beloved zombie epic THE BEYOND (1981), director Lucio Fulci explored further Gothic horror trappings with his next effort, THE HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY (1981), which features a somewhat-more-comprehensible, straight-ahead narrative that simultaneously reemphasizes his interest in the supernatural; all in typically gory fashion, of course. In a stylish, meticulously-shot opening, the film’s mysterious, decrepit atmosphere is well-established when a young couple who, after making love, are viciously slaughtered by an off-screen assailant at the titular house. However, in what at first seemingly promises to be a typical slasher film (i.e., “teenagers murdered after having sex”), THBTC quickly—thankfully enough—becomes something altogether quite different.

In the hopes of continuing Dr. Peterson’s research on suicide, a former colleague who had committed suicide himself after first murdering his mistress, Norman Boyle (Paolo Malco), his wife Lucy (Catriona MacColl, here billed as Katherine MacColl) and their babyish son Bob (Giovanni Frezza) move from New York City to the fictional town of New Whitby, Boston. “Why does that girl keep telling me I shouldn’t go there?” is the warning given to Bob by Mae (Silvia Collatina), a little red-haired girl seen only by Bob. Not heeding her ominous warnings, Bob’s parents take up residence at the newly-christened Oak Mansion, which is better-known to the locals as (quote) “That Freudstein house!” As Norman’s ongoing research begins taking up more and more of his time, he becomes increasingly suspicious of the house itself, as well as its enigmatic former resident Dr. Freudstein (Giovanni De Nava), a 19^th Century doctor whose experiments in cell regeneration evidently worked all-too-well…

In spite of THBTC’s fairly straightforward plot—which contains nods to both Stanley Kubrick’s THE SHINING (1978) and, to a lesser degree, Stuart Rosenberg’s THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (1979)—Fulci and prolific scriptwriter Dardano Sacchetti add a number of interesting ideas into the picture, the most significant of which revolves around Bob and Mae’s ambiguous relationship (apparently inspired by Henry James’ 1898 horror novella The Turn of the Screw). Like little Danny Torrence (Danny Lloyd) in THE SHINING, the kids are also more accepting of the unexplainable (“Parents neverlisten! They always do what they want!” remarks Bob with some anger), whereas—at the outset, anyway—the supposed grownups seem rather stupidly indifferent to everything going on around them. 

As with Fulci’s other horror films of the period, THE HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY is predictably gruesome, steeped-in melancholic morbidity and decay, a bleak atmosphere that is effectively conveyed by the title residence itself… which even comes complete with its own mausoleum. Every home should have one, don’t ya know! (Sinister foreshadowing alert…) A once-beautiful New England house, Oak Mansion has since fallen victim to the ravages of time with its dusty rooms, rotten wood and moldy walls, and, in spite of the seasonal weather outside, sinisterly-gnarled, barren trees and the forgotten cemetery surrounding it only add to the morbid, lifeless aura that veils the place like a funeral shroud. Although he rations-out his trademark gruesome carnage more frugally herein, viscerally speaking THBTC does contain some of the strongest scenes in Fulci’s entire oeuvre, including the claustrophobic, doom-laden final act with Dr. Freudstein himself: a decaying, marauding ghoul whose anguished, childlike cries provide an ironic counterpoint to his corpse-strewn basement ‘laboratory’. Despite his ghastly appearance and forlorn demeanour, the ‘good’ doctor’s need for human flesh is uncompromising and unstoppable; he is the perfect Fulci monster. 

THBTC has been readily available since the early days of home video, and Vestron Video’s 1984 Beta / VHS videocassettes contained Almi Pictures’ reworked U.S. theatrical version, which retained all the nasty gore but whose aspect ratio was heavily cropped, thus making a mockery of Sergio Salvati’s carefully-composed camerawork. It wasn’t until Daiei Video’s Japanese VHS and simultaneous LaserDisc release (incorrectly-labeled “THE HOUSE OUTSIDE CEMETERY”) that viewers were finally given a chance to see the original properly-formatted version. Anchor Bay eventually debuted this same version on North American DVD in 2001, in an edition which came as a real godsend for fans of the film. Since that time, THBTC has reappeared in countless releases around the world, including a couple of elaborate Blu-ray editions courtesy of Blue Underground and Arrow Video in 2011 and 2012, respectively.

In their ongoing dedication to remaster many of their key catalogue titles (including a number of Fulci’s, such as ZOMBIE [1979], THE NEW YORK RIPPER [1982] and MANHATTAN BABY [1982]), Blue Underground have truly gone above and beyond with their latest 4K restoration of this Italian horror classic. Spread out over two Blu-rays, BU’s new transfer was sourced from the film’s original camera negative, and it looks nothing short of spectacular. It’s colourful and extremely detailed; in fact, just about perfect in every way! The DTS-HD Master Audio also offers a choice of three options, including a nicely-balanced 5.1 track and 1.0 mono tracks in both English and Italian, all of which are clearly-rendered and sound excellent. Incidentally, the Italian track (that was also included on BU’s previous Blu) is likewise noticeably different, removing some of the clunkier dialogue to give the film an even classier and more atmospheric tone. Unfortunately, the English subtitles provided are notdirect translations of the Italian dialogue, but, given the many other positives, this is a minor quibble at best. French, Spanish and SDH subtitles are also included. 

The major extra included on disc one is a brand-new audio commentary from Splintered Visions: Lucio Fulci and His Films (Midnight Marquee Press, 2015) author Troy Howarth wherein, as per usual, he covers a vast amount of detail about the film itself and many of the personnel involved during this very fruitful period of Fulci’s career. In the wake of Roberto Curti’s essential book Italian Gothic Horror Films, 1980-1989, (McFarland & Company, 2019), and in what is perhaps the most fascinating aspect, he discusses many of the differences between the finished film and Sacchetti’s original—and vastly reworked—script, which is an interesting look into the creative process between Fulci and his frequent collaborator Sacchetti. Other topics discussed include Paolo Malco’s initial rather, uh ‘strained’ rapport with the feisty director, the (quote) “aesthetic unity of the crew” on this and Fulci’s other films of the period (with a particular emphasis on Salvati’s use of lighting and camerawork), as well as providing background on about every actor in the film, including many of the English-dubbing voice talent, whom Howarth praises as the (quote) “unknown soldiers of European Cult Cinema”, plus much, much more. As always, it makes for yet another engrossing, well-researched listen. Additional extras on disc one include the deleted ‘bat attack aftermath’ (which originally appeared on AB’s 2001 DVD as an Easter Egg), THBTC’s English-language export trailer (3m22s), its U.S. theatrical trailer (1m47s, “It was to be a getaway dream, but it’s becominga runaway nightmare!”) and a TV spot (30s), the latter two of which are narrated by the late, great Brother Theodore. Additionally, a pair of poster and still galleries (1m13s & 2m21s) are included, the second of which also appeared on AB’s earlier DVD.

The plethora of outstanding interview featurettes from BU’s prior BD (produced by Michael Felsher’s Red Shirt Pictures) are thankfully ported-over onto the second disc of this set, which for the record include Meet the Boyles (14m17s), with stars Malco and MacColl; Children of the Night (12m18s), with former juvenile players Frezza and Collatina, who now, the better part of 40 years on, are very much all-grown-up; Tales of Laura Gittleson (8m56s), with actress Dagmar Lassander; My Time with Terror (9m21s), with actor Carlo De Mejo; The Haunted House Story (14m07s), with Sacchetti, his wife and fellow collaborator Elisa Briganti; and To Build a Better Death Trap (21m32s), with Salvati, makeup effects artist Maurizio Trani, effects guru Gino De Rossi and actor De Nava. On top of this already extras-stacked set, BU have also included a trio of all-new extras, including House Quake (14m46s), containing an interview with co-writer Giorgio Mariuzzo, who professes that “Horror is something I make – not something that I watch!” and relates how he tended to focus more on plot and character personalities when collaborating on scripts with Sacchetti. Mariuzzo also shares some funny anecdotes in regards to Fulci, whom he believes had a sense of “emptiness” about him, which was typically reflected in his films. In a Q&A with the always-lively Catriona MacColl conducted at the Spaghetti Cinema Festival on May 10^th, 2014 (29m37s), she discusses her time working on the trio of films she made with Fulci, some of the inherent challenges and her love/hate relationship with these seemingly undying films. Of course, no Fulci disc is complete without the inimitable contributions of Stephen Thrower, author of Beyond Terror: The Films of Lucio Fulci (FAB Press, 2018), who, in Calling Dr. Freudstein (19m34s), gives us another of his thorough examinations of the film. 

Licensed from Italy’s Beat Records, BU have also included Walter Rizzati’s and Alessandro Blonksteiner’s magnificent THBTC score as a separate soundtrack CD (31 tracks, 57m), as well as an 18-page liner notes booklet with writing from Michael Gingold and a slick-looking lenticular slipcover, all of which only further sweeten what is already an exhaustive and definitive presentation of this wonderful film. Order it from DiabolikDVD.