BURIAL GROUND - UHD/BD REVIEW

Produced in the wake of George A. Romero’s worldwide smash hit, DAWN OF THE DEAD (1978) and Lucio Fulci’s equally popular Italian cash-in ZOMBIE (1979) – which were promoted in Italy as ZOMBI and ZOMBI 2, respectively – Andrea Bianchi’s BURIAL GROUND (1980) was just one of many zombie pictures trying to capitalize on the sudden surge of all things zombie. Other films, such as Bruno Mattei’s NIGHT OF THE ZOMBIES (a.k.a. HELL OF THE LIVING DEAD, 1980) – which even had the audacity to pilfer Goblin’s memorable DAWN score – Umberto Lenzi’s CITY OF THE WALKING DEAD (a.k.a. NIGHTMARE CITY, 1980) and Marino Girolami’s unforgettable cannibal / zombie mash-up DOCTOR BUTCHER M.D. (a.k.a. ZOMBIE HOLOCAUST, 1980) soon followed and, as enjoyable as they all are, nothing can match the sheer gusto and sleazy vibe of Bianchi’s low-budget zombie opus. 

The set-up – such that it is – is pure porno trash: a group of weekend vacationers gather together at a large villa, but unbeknownst to them, the resident Professor (Renato Barbieri) has discovered a secret about the ancient Etruscans (“It’s true! It must be! IT MUST BE!!!’), and for reasons unclear, they begin to emerge from the centuries-old graves to munch on the unsuspecting guests. 

 

Crass and undeniably silly, Bianchi’s film does not indulge in any sociopolitical messaging and simply exists for one purpose only: to show people getting slaughtered and eaten by crusty-faced zombies, and on that level, it succeeds brilliantly. Shot at the Villa Parisi, a big foreboding castle located just north of Rome in Frascati, this was a popular location for many film crews, which producer Gabriele Crisanti utilized to full effect while helming a series of now infamous low-budget sleaze shockers, including Bianchi’s MALABIMBA (1979), Mario Landi’s PATRICK STILL LIVES (1980), and Mario Bianchi’s MALABIMBA follow-up SATAN’S BABY DOLL (1982). Imposing and bleak, this once-prominent stately home looks about as decayed as the zombies are, which definitely adds to the sinister atmosphere, and Bianchi doesn’t hesitate for a second to take full advantage of it either. Delving into heaping piles of steaming viscera, these shuffling, maggot-infested zombies almost seem to be part of the villa’s crumbling façade, and prove that death is inescapable for our luckless guests. Adding to the generally weird and morbid tone is Berto Pisano’s (here credited as Burt Rexon) and Elsio Mancuso’s pilfered score (parts of which were originally used in Romain Gary’s KILL! [1971]), which perfectly encapsulates the delirious nature of this impoverished production as it alternates between breezy jazz cues and some truly bizarre, discursive, but energetic synth work; a CD release would be most welcome.

 

Populated by an interesting cast of Italian B-movie veterans, which includes softcore starlets Karin Well and Antonietta Antinori, Simone Mattioli (Franca Stoppi’s husband and co-star in Bruno Mattei’s THE OTHER HELL [1980]), Gianluigi Chrizzi, Roberto Caporali, Maria Angela Giordano as the hysteric, but resourceful Evelyn (dubbed on English prints by the always wonderful Carolyn De Fonseca), and of course the insanely creepy-looking Peter Bark as Evelyn’s son Michael. Scripted by the incredibly prolific Piero Regnoli, who is responsible for well over one-hundred writing credits (including Lenzi’s aforementioned CITY OF THE WALKING DEAD and Bianchi’s MALABIMBA), his work herein doesn’t bother to even try and attempt to develop anything of any real substance, most of the cast isn’t given much to do except battle zombies and sputter an inordinate amount of preposterous dialogue (“You look just like a little whore, but I like that in a girl!”), which most hardcore fans of the film can readily quote. However, a typically perverse subplot interspersed among the zombie mayhem involves Evelyn’s son Michael and his rather questionable ‘feelings’ towards his Mother, which culminates in one of the film’s more audacious and unforgettable moments of any Italian horror picture.

 

Long available on home video since the VHS rental days, BURIAL GROUND first appeared on video store shelves in the U.S. and Canada in 1986 thanks to Vestron Video’s easily accessible VHS videocassette, and although it was uncut (beware of heavily-cut versions in Canada!), the overly dark transfer left much to the imagination during key scenes of violence. Around the same time, a very nice (and much brighter) widescreen VHS tape emanated out of Japan via TCC Home Video, which was pretty much the gold standard at that time. Although available on European DVD during the format’s early days, BURIAL GROUND made its official debut on U.S. DVD in 2002 courtesy of Media Blasters’ sub-label Shriek Show, which presented a decent, but somewhat drab-looking 16x9 transfer, which, like the Japanese tape, also included the film’s original export title THE NIGHTS OF TERROR. Extras included interviews with Maria Angela Giordano and the not very-enthusiastic Gabriele Crisanti (11m00s), a still and poster gallery (2m57s), the film’s original English-language export trailer (3m28s), and a 4-page liner notes booklet with writing from AV Maniacs’ Charles Avinger and European Trash Cinema’s Craig Ledbetter. In 2011, Shriek Show revisited the film on Blu-ray, which was definitely a step-up in picture quality, if certainly not what everyone was hoping for, but – in an even more frustrating turn of events – this BD contained a slightly shorter version of the film, trimming the ends of reels or certain shots altogether (excisions totaling some 1m45s), and even though the gore was left intact, it’s a fairly significant amount of footage, to be sure. Retaining all the extras from the DVD, the BD also contained a number of previously unseen deleted scenes (albeit presented with no sound, 9m30s), which were definitely a nice bonus, and sweetened the package just a little. In 2013, German label Illusions Unlimited had their go at the film - complete with packaging housed in one of those slick mediabooks – but it turned out to be a port of the SS Blu, containing the same extras, minus the deleted scenes. 

 

In 2016, as part of their long-running ‘Italian Collection’, British label 88 Films issued their own Region B disc, which turned out to be the most pleasing edition to date. Remastered from the original 16mm camera negative, colours were rich and robust, and 88 Films’ new transfer possessed a healthy amount of natural grain and excellent detail throughout; plus, it finally reinstated all those missing trims from the SS disc. Extras included an audio commentary with former Giallo Pages editor John Martin and Calum Waddell, which of course, focuses on the film’s bowdlerized release in the U.K., VHS collecting during the Video Nasty era, an overview of “journeyman” director Bianchi, the surge of Italian zombie films that emerged out of Italy at that point in time, and their general lack of enthusiasm for the film itself. Other extras included What the F***? The Films of Andrea Bianchi (26m40s), wherein author Mikel Coven takes a look at Bianchi’s interesting career, the aforementioned deleted scenes, the film’s trailer, and as an added bonus, 88 Films have also provided an alternate version sourced from a 35mm ‘Grindhouse’ U.S. print, which runs a tad shorter (84m21s) due to the abbreviated BURIAL GROUND credit sequence. Reversible packaging and a nicely-illustrated booklet with liner notes from Waddell round-out the extras. Both English and Italian DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono tracks are included on the restored version with English subtitles provided for the Italian audio track.

 

Later that same year, Severin Films released their own separate BD (the first 3000 copies included a slipcover with Wes Benscoter cover art) and DVD releases. As good as the 88 Films BD was, Severin’s disc looked even better, which appeared slightly darker, but with more pronounced, authentic colours and nicely textured grain, which looked especially good during all the film’s gory close-ups of rotted flesh. The excellent disc also came loaded with several fascinating new extra features beginning with Villa Parisi – Legacy of Terror (15m47s), in which film critic Fabio Melelli takes the viewer on a detailed tour of the famous location used in a number of classic (and some not-so classic) Italian films. In Peter Still Lives (7m35s), actor Peter Bark is part of a short, but delightful Q&A at a film festival, while actor Simone Mattioli doesn’t to seem to recall a whole lot about the film in Just for the Money (8m57s), but he does remember having quite a bit of fun on set. In The Smell of Death (9m20s), interviews and Giordano and Crisanti have been properly re-edited together for a much smoother and tighter viewing experience, and even though it’s not listed on the packaging, the deleted scenes have also been included, while the film’s now familiar English export theatrical trailer finishes things off.

 

In 2023, 88 Films debuted this scrappy Italian trash classic as a 2-disc UHD / BD combo, which was scanned in 4K (!) from the “best surviving element (35mm blow-up interpositive)” and looks even better than their previous HD remaster with a more pronounced colour scheme and sharper detail. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 tracks also sound crisp and clear, and once again English subtitles are included for the Italian audio track. The aforementioned John Martin and Calum Waddell audio commentary is carried over, but 88 Films also commissioned a new audio commentary from Mondo Digital’s Nathaniel Thompson, and authors Troy Howarth and Eugenio Ercolani, which is far more in depth and appreciative of the film even as they venture into many different – and pleasing – tangents about Italian horror in general and their love for this singular Italian horror film. Some of the many details they discuss include Bianchi’s wide-ranging career and and some their favourites of his including his violent mafia actioner CRY OF A PROSTITUTE (1974) and the wonderfully sleazy STRIP NUDE FOR YOUR KILLER (1975), but all agree that BURIAL GROUND is his “biggest accomplishment”, but admit that some of this should be rightly attributed to producer Crisanti who Ercolani regards as “the unsung hero of this film” and a “pivotal figure” of late ’70s Italian sleaze. Of course, they also discuss the film’s location at length, which was regarded as the “villa of Z-movies”, Peter Bark’s brief career and his juicy role herein, and how he became an “object of mystery” who was eventually found working in a fetish nightclub “being brought around in a collar and leash!” Further discussions include the “campy vibe” of the English dub track and the many familiar voice talents involved, the inherently sleazy atmosphere of the entire production, the film’s quirky score and the film’s talented composer Berto Pisano, numerous other Italian zombie films of the time, and this film’s unique place within the genre, it’s “nihilistic” nature, the film’s bizarre incestuous subplot and how producers were taking advantage of the “loosening of censorship”, the overall “nightmarish quality” and “showstopper” finale, and just how much fun Bianchi was having with the material. Overall, this is another intelligent and highly enjoyable audio commentary from this always knowledgeable trio, who have quite a bit of fun here, adding plenty of value to this already entertaining film. 

 

On the Blu-ray, other extras include Return to the Burial Ground (13m51s) from Eugenio Ercolani wherein Peter Bark (a.k.a. Pietro Barzocchini) divulges all sorts of cool anecdotes about the film's shoot, with Ercolani giving the viewer even more shots of this ornate villa as it stands today, which is real treat for fans of the film or Italian horror in general. In The Borders of the Extreme (22m44s), Ercolani discusses the film at length putting it into perspective within the ever-changing world of Italian cinema of the ’70s and ’80s, while Pierpaolo De Sanctis discusses Berto Pisano’s diversive and rather curious career in Zombies in Melodies (27n58s). 88 Films have also included the previously mentioned What the F***? The Films of Andrea Bianchi, the deleted scenes, the film’s trailer and the alternate ‘Grindhouse’ U.S. print. Slickly-packaged, the limited edition set also includes a slipcover with art by Devon Whitehead, a two-sided fold-out poster, and a liner notes booklet with writing on the film by Martin Beine and Daniel Burnett. 

 

Earlier this year, Severin Films released their own UHD, which utilizes the same 4K restoration and looks superb; North American fans should find plenty to appreciate. Naturally, both English and Italian audio options are once again included with the latter featuring English subtitles. As with the 88 Films disc, both audio commentaries are also included, and the film’s trailer finish off the extras on the UHD, whereas the BD includes all of the extras featured on Severin’s previous disc as well as Ercolani’s Return to the Burial Ground featurette. This 2-disc set also includes a beautiful slipcover featuring original art from the film, and they even offer The Death Smells Bundle, which also includes a newly-commissioned T-shirt from Pallbearer Press and one helluva pillowcase! 

 

As usual, Severin’s UHD upgrade of this no frills, primo gut-cruncher is another must have, but no matter which edition you may choose, it’s great to see Bianchi’s picture endure after all these years, emerging as one of the great all-time Italian trash classics. 

GO GORILLA, GO! - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Based on a story by powerhouse writing duo Massimo De Rita and Dino Maiuri, responsible for some of Italy’s most engrossing and upscale Italocrime films such as Carlo Lizzani’s BANDITS IN MILAN (a.k.a. THE VIOLENT FOUR, 1968), Sergio Sollima’s VIOLENT CITY (a.k.a. THE FAMILY, 1970), and Enzo G. Castellari’s THE BIG RACKET (1976), to name just a few, Tonino Valerii’s GO GORILLA, GO! (1975) is yet another exceptional effort, which not only provides star Fabio Testi with one of his best ever roles, but it’s also one of Valerii’s grittiest and emotionally intense pictures. Never officially released in North America, German label FilmArt have given this largely underseen film its due with a much-needed – and English-friendly – HD release, which should be at the top of any Eurocrime enthusiast’s must-have list.

 

In Rome, wealthy and high-strung industrialist Gaetano Sampioni (Renzo Palmer) becomes the target of a growing criminal trend wherein (pressbook quote) “a new method of making people pay” is devised. The film’s pressbook goes on to explain that “without actually kidnapping it is made clear that if the money is not paid up you will be severely punished”, but Sampioni refuses to give in to these demands. Enter Marco Sartori (Fabio Testi), an ex-stuntman who is forced to give up his career due to a job-related accident, so he’s hired by his professional bodyguard friend Ciro Musante (Al Lettieri) as un gorilla – Italian street slang meaning bodyguard – to give round-the-clock protection to Sampioni. Given his client’s increasingly stubborn and belligerent disposition, the frequency and intensity of the threats begin to increase, so at the behest of Marco, Sampioni sends his daughter Vera (Claudia Marsani) out of the country. In retaliation, Marco is brutally beaten by members of the pseudo-kidnapping ring, so Sampioni finally gives in and elects to pay, but Marco quickly retorts, “If you pay them once, you’ll never get rid of them!” As a precaution, Sampioni is then falsely ‘kidnapped’ and taken out of harm’s way by Marco and his kid brother Piero (Saverio Marconi), so they alone can end these threats and violent reprisals, which results in double-crosses, divided loyalties, and a botched swoop-down on the kidnappers by commissario Vannuzzi (Adriano Amidei Migliano) and his Flying Squad… 

 

As with many polizieschi of the time, GO GORILLA, GO! is essentially a contemporized spaghetti western, which should come as no surprise coming from a director of several prestigious oaters. The turbulent streets of Italy at that point in time (“Criminals reflect the society they live in.”), which were awash in a sea of criminality, political upheavals, and corruption, mirrored the lawlessness of the western frontier where disputes were almost always settled with violence. Much like Giuliano Gemma’s character in Valerii’s exemplary political western THE PRICE OF POWER (1969), Testi’s character is a lone unsinkable island of integrity, and his increasingly desperate efforts to protect his client severely tests his courage and convictions to their very core. Testi, a former stuntman himself who also starred in Castellari’s aforementioned THE BIG RACKET and Lucio Fulci’s uncompromising CONTRABAND (1980), gives another highly credible performance as the frustrated bodyguard who finds his newfound profession utterly humiliating (“It’s a question of dignity.”) falling several notches lower than a toilet-cleaner on the totem pole of social respect, who is regularly belittled even by the very people he protects. When Sampioni’s controlling nature begins to take its toll, Marco vehemently replies: “You get protection! That’s all! My thoughts are my own!” Despite the general disrespect afforded to him, Testi’s character can just as readily waive the rulebook, and when the chips are down, he has no qualms about beating down his opponents or even shooting them down in cold blood. 

 

Briskly paced, Valerii and his stunt team orchestrate several nail-biting moments including a messy car chase wherein Marco is forced off the street and beaten senseless by a carload of goons, and in one of the film’s most nerve-wracking scenes, a yo-yo ride inside a floorless elevator, which severely tests Marco’s mettle. Further punctuated by several bursts of unglamourized violence, which includes genre fave Luciano Catenacci getting pulverized by Marco, and thrown through a giant plate-glass window, whereafter another character has his legs repeatedly crushed by on onslaught of motorcycle-riding thugs. Later, during the film’s incredible high-speed shootout between a hijacked commuter train and a Giulia cop car, an old man is creamed at a railway crossing while one hijacker has his brains messily blown-out through the back of his head. Testi, performing all his own stunts, really earns his paycheck during the finale as he transfers from car to train to face off with the bandits in a western-like showdown, all of which is all tied together by the ever-reliable triumvirate of Franco Bixio, Fabio Frizzi and Vince Tempera, whose superb score is rife with ‘70s funk rock stylings, which effectively echo Marco’s steadily mounting tension, and later desperation. 

 

Outside of foreign VHS videocassettes from either Italy, Germany or Greece (where it was released by J.P. Video Productions under its alternate English-language export title THE HIRED GUN), GO GORILLA, GO! was a difficult film to see for most English-speaking viewers. During the DVD era, the film was released on Italian disc by Mustang Entertainment, but of course it too wasn’t English-friendly. Featuring a “brand new 4K restoration”, this Region Free disc marks the film’s HD debut, and it certainly looks far superior than anything that has come before it, which highlights superior clarity and definition, and sports a natural amount of normal film grain; a big improvement overall. The DTS-HD MA 2.0 mono tracks feature German, Italian and English audio, and while it’s always nice to have to have the English dub track (which features familiar voice talent such as Michael Forest, Ed Mannix, Robert Sommer, and Ted Rusoff), the audio is noticeably hissy (most likely taken from a VHS source), but all of the film’s action highlights, violent punch-ups and gunfire, still sound effective enough. In a nice gesture, optional German and English subtitles are also included. The brief extras include an unrestored version of the film, complete with surface scratches, dirt, and several other imperfections, which seems rather pointless, but it’s here just the same for those that enjoy seeing it this way. Other extras include the film’s Italian opening credits (1m31s), The Italian closing credits (58s) and a cut comparison (1m34s) of the shortened Italian version.

 

Limited to 1000 copies and housed in FilmArt’s customary DVD-sized red keepcase (which also includes a 14-page booklet with nice colour reproductions of the film’s Italian locandina, due fogli, various fotobusta and pressbook), this is a very welcome release of a solid film, which is enlivened by some dynamite sequences of intense physical action and a rock-solid performance by Fabio Testi. GO GORILLA, GO! should not be missed! Order it at DiabolikDVD.

JAILHOUSE WARDRESS - BLU-RAY REVIEW

If we’re to believe the phony Anglicized credits, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS (1979) is just another routine women-in-prison film, but seldom have distributors sought so earnestly to camouflage a film’s true origins and pass it off as an entirely new picture like the lovable hucksters at Eurociné. Perhaps best known on these shores for producing several Jess Franco films such as FEMALE VAMPIRE (a.k.a. EROTIKILL, 1973), this Paris-based distribution outfit and production company has also become synonymous with a number of hastily cobbled-together films, of which JAILHOUSE WARDRESS is probably their most infamous. Following the success of Jess Franco’s far superior WIP film BARBED WIRE DOLLS (1975), which Eurociné distributed and owed the rights to in France, they decided to offer their very own contribution to the genre. But rather than take the time and trouble to shoot an all-new film, Eurociné instead ransacked Franco’s picture, stretching out miles of ‘previously viewed’ footage with a handful of ‘all-new’ insert scenes overseen by in-house director Alain Deruelle, which they probably threw together over a single long weekend. It shows. 

 

Essentially a re-hash of BWD, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS is a jumbled, schizo mix of mismatched scenes, a conflicting mix of characters, and paltry budget. Care of re-dubbed footage taken from Alain Payet’s SPECIAL TRAIN FOR HITLER (a.k.a. HELLTRAIN, 1977), a twitchy SS Colonel (Roger Darton) is forming a plan to eliminate “traitors and defeatists” from the Third Reich during the waning days of WWII, and upon Hitler’s own recommendation, Fraulein Elsa Ackermann (Monica Swinn) is ordered to run the operation. Next, we’re in a cramped apartment in modern day France, which possibly doubles as a Mossad safehouse (we know this because there is a large Israeli flag in the living room) where Jewish secret agents discuss the “red Heidelberg file”, which details the ongoing search to find and kill the SS Colonel from the opening who killed “thousands of Jews in concentration camps.” It develops that this Colonel has fled to South America with Elsa (“You know the story...”), where they are now running a local prison, which sets the stage for the rest of the film. 

 

Virtually the entirety of BARBED WIRE DOLLS (minus most of its sexually explicit material) seems to have been recycled here, albeit with its continuity drastically rearranged. Adding to the confusion, newly-shot footage with Eurociné regulars Nadine Pascal and Pamela Stanford as a pair of jovial prisoners clashes severely with Franco’s original downbeat scenario, and does nothing to propel the story forward; they merely lounge around the prison in constant states of partial or total undress discussing nothing in particular, and despite utilizing large portions of BWD, much of that film’s dreary - and highly potent – atmosphere is completely eliminated here. More in line with some of Eurocine’s other piecemeal films such as HOUSE OF CRUEL DOLLS (1974) or OASIS OF THE LOST GIRLS (1981), few of the disjointed storylines and newly-shot scenes ever properly gel, while disconnected pages of seemingly unrelated scripts seem to have been cut together using third-hand gaffer’s tape. When Nestor (Didier Aubriot, who poorly replaces the always watchable Eric Falk from the original) has his way with the prisoners, the film resorts to some flaccid attempts to instill some excitement, but much of the potentially offending scenes come across as laughable (“Close your eyes! There’s nothing to it!” remarks one of the girls.), which is made doubly ineffective by Daniel J. White’s crudely inserted and wholly inappropriate jazzy interludes; and it’s also hard not to notice the black-painted balsa wood doubling for solid iron bars! Following various prison subplots and backstories (including Lina Romay’s and Jess Franco’s infamous slow-motion death scene from BWD), our Jewish operative from the beginning finally reasserts his omnipotence with a bonus minute of action…

 

Despite its lowly pedigree, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS has seen more than a few releases during the digital era, beginning with Videofilm Express’ NAZI FILM COLLECTION, a 6-disc box set from 2010, which saw it issued alongside several other Eurociné Nazi-themed war films. This Dutch Region 2 PAL DVD was touted as a 16x9 release, but was weirdly stretched to accommodate a 1:85 image, so in order to watch the film in its intended 1.66:1 framing, viewers had to manually adjust their aspect ratio settings on their DVD player. The film was in English and included optional Dutch subtitles. In 2017, UK based label Maison Rouge released a slightly improved transfer of the film (albeit now weirdly in a 1.40 widescreen format) with marginally better colour timing, but for most casual viewers, the film’s differing film stocks and poorly recycled footage will make for a frustrating viewing experience. Earlier this year, thanks to MVD Classics and their continuing relationship with Eurociné, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS made its worldwide Blu-ray debut, and much like Maison Rouge’s UK disc, this is virtually the same transfer with a very minor uptick in quality thanks to the higher bitrate, but this still remains a poorly prepared transfer, which is littered with surface scratches and fluctuating contrast that lacks any real detail. As an interesting side note, the prominent swastika which adorned Maison Rouge’s DVD art is conspicuously missing from MVD Classics’ otherwise identical BD cover image, which in this day and age, is not surprising. 

 

There are no extras to speak of, other than a few newly-constructed trailers for some of MVD Classics’ other Eurociné product, which for the record include Pierre Chevalier’s CONVOY OF WOMEN (1m03s, 1974), Jess Franco’s GOLDEN TEMPLE AMAZONS (1m50s, 1984), Amando De Ossorio’s Canadian-set western HUDSON RIVER MASSACRE (1m30s, 1965), and Alain Payet’s NATHALIE ESCAPE FROM HELL (1m13s, 1978). 

Although still of interest to the more fetishistic Jess Franco fan or indiscriminate Eurotrash completists, JAILHOUSE WARDRESS has the arguable distinction of being one of the poorest films in the entire Eurociné catalogue! And that’s really saying something! 

 

RAT MAN - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Crawling from the trashiest depths of the Italian film industry, Giuliano Carnimeo’s RAT MAN (1988) was an attempt by producer Fabrizio De Angelis, and his prolific production company Fulvia Film, to further extend the waning popularity of the Italian horror film. As per the film’s opening narration, the Rat Man was “developed by introducing the sperm of a rat into the ovum of a monkey”, and the resulting hybrid, which even carries a “potent poison” in its teeth and under its nails, wouldn’t seem out of place if it was accompanied by a showman’s pitch or some Carny-style hyperbole. Lurking behind some unnervingly long incisors and enlarged clawed hands, Carnimeo’s film is noteworthy for the sheer lowbrow audacity of casting the late Nelson De La Rosa (1968 – 2006) as the title monster. Measuring a mere 71cm (that’s 2’4” for you yanks) in height, De La Rosa was an inexplicably tiny actor who would later gain a measure of fame when he appeared alongside Marlon Brando in the unmitigated Richard Stanley / John Frankenheimer disaster that was THE ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU (1996). Filmed entirely in the Dominican Republic from an original story by Dardano Sacchetti (using his usual nom de plume David Parker Jr.), this largely forgotten horror film was resurrected via Cauldron Films’ lavish BD (its first official North American home video release), which finally shows the film on its very best behaviour. 

Dr. Olman (Pepito Guerra), an apparently renowned molecular biologist who works in one of filthiest laboratories imaginable, is hoping to present his Rat Man hybridization (whom he refers to as ‘Mousey’) at the next genetics congress, but before he can do so, the aforementioned title creature escapes. When a mutilated body is found during a beachside photo shoot, Marilyn (Eva Grimaldi), Peggy (Luisa Menon) and their photographer Mark (Werner Pochath), who treats everyone with undisguised scorn (“The only thing that he’s got that clicks with me is a shutter!”), decide not to report it because Mark doesn’t “want to be interrogated.” Later that night, Peggy is clawed to death following a lengthy confrontation with a knife-wielding local, a sequence which has more in common with any number of gialli than your typical monster film. When Peggy’s sister Terry (Janet Agren) comes looking for her in this tropical paradise, she is quickly befriended by mystery novelist Fred Williams (David Warbeck), when they inadvertently share a taxi. Despite her initial icy aloofness towards him, the two of them eventually team up and try to find her missing sister as the Rat Man continues to scurry about sinking his teeth into the local populace…

 

Beginning with an introductory voiceover from Dr. Olman, the script attempts to make some unsubtle allusions to H.G. Wells’ classic novel The Island of Dr. Moreau, and while RAT MAN does reveal some similar themes about humanity’s curious nature, Carnimeo’s film moves several notches below Wells’ text without even a hint of the ethical and philosophical concerns depicted in the book. It’s this seeming laziness and general indifference to the material that ultimately hampers the film, which could have benefitted from a little more creative energy into the fantastical components of the story. At one point, Warbeck’s character Fred Williams casually remarks that as a writer, he is “short on inspiration”, which is perhaps Sacchetti’s own self-referential dig at his one-note script. In an interesting side note, one of the disc’s extra features has veteran director Alberto De Martino discussing his brief involvement with the film as a post-production consultant wherein he points out the “fundamental mistake” of the story’s premise and its non-threatening monster, which you could simply “squish” under your feet. So, at his insistence, it was decided to add the fatal poison to the monster’s genetic make-up, to try and help produce a more sensible scenario. Despite this much-needed tinkering, it still seems, along with the cast and crew, plot and characterization all wandered off to enjoy the pretty tropical scenery, but it’s always fun watching David Warbeck do his earnest if bored-looking best while trying to make sense of things. As the body count begins to rack-up, RAT MAN still musters enough odd touches (e.g., mousey crawling out of a filthy toilet or eerily climbing up a wall) and bursts of energy, including a well-choreographed finale between a frequently-nude Eva Grimaldi and our titular varmint, and is this respect, you can’t help but radiate a modicum of fondness for the entire endeavour. 

 

Never officially released on North American home video, RAT MAN did appear on some video store shelves in the US and Canada via Caribbeam ABC Video (titled THE RAT MAN on the vid box), a dubious Puerto Rican VHS videocassette, which was overly dark and didn’t do the film any favours whatsoever. In 2008, UK-based label Shameless Screen Entertainment unveiled the film’s first DVD release, but it was compiled from a number of sketchy source materials, which were murky, lacked depth, and bordered on unwatchable. Fortunately, it now looks better than ever thanks to Cauldron Films’ new Blu-ray, which features a brand new “4K restoration from the negative” that finally preserves the film’s colour integrity along with tons of previously-obscured details, and while it still lacks the stylish verve of Carnimeo’s earlier Sartana spaghetti westerns, this nicely-detailed HD presentation benefits the film greatly. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono audio is likewise a massive improvement, which is freed of the hiss and VHS-sourced buzz of Shameless’ DVD; it all sounds remarkably good.

 

While the film hasn’t lost any of its morbid fascination over the last few decades, Cauldron Films have included a wealth of interesting extra features to try and put everything in perspective beginning with a lively audio commentary from Mondo Digital’s Nathaniel Thompson, and authors Troy Howarth and Eugenio Ercolani. In it, they discuss a wide variety of topics in regards to this “interesting installment of Italian horror” including De La Rosa’s “pop culture lineage” and his great screen presence, independent exploitation mogul Fabrizio De Angelis and how he created a “safe haven” for many aging directors in their twilight years, Mainetti’s “fun electronic score”, a ton of background info on director Carnimeo and DP Roberto Girometti, the simplistic nature of these latter-day genre films, the film’s striking – and very misleading – poster art, the many English voice talent actors, and a very funny quote from director Sergio Martino regarding the inordinate amount of shower scenes in Italian trash films! As usual, the three of them work very well-together discussing the film with equal parts affection and nostalgia (and occasional laughter!) in this thorough and well-researched listen. Good stuff!

 

Other, no less significant extras include a trio of featurettes from Eugenio Ercolani, which begin with Lighting the Rat Man (16m24s), an on-camera interview with Roberto Girometti wherein he discusses his early career as a camera operator, his brief working relationship with Roberto Rossellini who “embodied the magic of cinema”, and of course, his time working on RAT MAN alongside director Carnimeo and producer De Angelis who was a “bossy” personality and frequently referred to as “The Cobra.” In Framing the Rat Man (17m21s), long-time camera operator and DP Federico Del Zoppo is interviewed and talks about the technical side of his work, but he also indulges in a ton of anecdotes from his time in the Italian film industry, his work on RAT MAN, and his relationship with producer De Angelis working on other horror films such as KILLER CROCODILE (1989). Lastly, in the aforementioned Just a Fin (6m34s), an audio interview with director Alberto De Martino, he casually chats about his time working with Fulvia Film “supervising pictures” such as RAT MAN, his dislike of the horror genre, the difficulty of working with Michael Moriarty on BLOODLINK (1982), and his total dislike of MIAMI GOLEM (a.k.a. MIAMI HORROR, 1985), which he has since disowned. The film’s energetic theatrical trailer (“The body was chewed by rats!”, 2m08s) is also included. The initial 2-disc limited edition pressing also included Stefano Mainetti’s entire score on a separate CD (19 tracks, 36m24s), a double-sided poster, and a nicely-illustrated slipcase with artwork by Justin Coffee, and as of this writing, it’s still available from the Cauldron Films website. 

 

All-in-all RAT MAN falls short of being an Italian horror film classic, but despite its flaws, it’s unusual enough and remains consistently watchable, especially via Cauldron Films’ outstanding Blu-ray. Order it from Cauldron Films or DiabolikDVD.