THE CHILDREN OF VIOLENT ROME - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Quote from a translated Italian newspaper ad, which promises “the shocking truth” and “an indictment against society.” Given the film’s brutal subject matter, it’s no surprise Renato Savino’s THE CHILDREN OF VIOLENT ROME (1976) was “prohibited to minors under 18-years of age.”

 

One of the more obscure “youths run wild” films, this is yet another urban crime story ripped directly from blood-soaked Italian headlines during the turbulent Years of Lead (1968 – 1982), a period characterized by numerous terrorist attacks and unprecedented acts of violence from across the political spectrum. One such case, which took place in 1975 between the 29^th and 30^th of September in Circeo, a beach resort town outside Rome, involved a trio of affluent youngsters from Parioli (a northern suburb of Rome) who abducted, tortured and raped two women, Donatella Colasanti and Rosaria Lopez. Although Colasanti survived her ordeal, this crime of brutal violence sent shock waves of outrage throughout the country and media. As with the present title, Sergio Grieco’s and Massimo Felisatti’s VIOLENCE FOR KICKS (1976) and Marino Girolami’s ROMA, L’ALTRA FACCIA DELLA VIOLENZA (1976) were likewise derived from the same shocking news story. 

 

Although Savino’s film is a fictional account of said factual incident, the film attempts to gain some authenticity by employing a documentary-like pre-credits sequence. Reporting on juvenile delinquency through a series of on-the-spot interviews with real-life citizens, Savino accurately reflects on the current dilemma plaguing Italy at the time. “We have reached a point of no return.” Remarks one frustrated citizen, while another surmises that tougher laws need to be implemented. 

 

Using the above headline as a prime motivator, Savino’s film chiefly focuses on a band of Neo-fascist, bourgeois punks led by Marco Garroni (Gino Milli), a true sociopath who represents the extreme far-right in its most negative incarnation. Huddling together in their spacious Nazi-themed subterranean hideout, this group of Pariolini teens (one of the film’s few authentic details to the real-life events) either talk politics (“I cannot be fascist because fascism is just pseudo-socialism.”) or plan their next anarchic crime spree in the hopes of subverting the prevailing political order. While their headquarters seem almost comically over-the-top with swastikas and giant posters of Adolf Hitler adorning each and every wall, Savino does however, emphasize the bitter contrasts between the Haves and Have-Nots, which is constantly reiterated throughout the film. Although occasionally forced by circumstance to join forces, Schizzo (Emilio Locurio) and his gang of proletarian hooligans must eke out a living as scippatori stealing whatever they can, including sandwiches or roast chickens for their next meal, whereas Marco dines on wine and gnocchi at a swish restaurant. A by-product of wealthy, but emotionally loveless parents who either trade-off genuinely demonstrative familial affection with either material possessions or protection from the law (“You’ve done a robbery… You know what it cost to get you out of that?”), Marco and his gang are very much at odds amidst the working-class Roman neighbourhoods driving around in his father’s classy Jaguar XJ, which does come in handy following an attempted robbery, where he and his gang test the limits of their power knowing full well they are beyond the law and above suspicion. 

 

Exceedingly cynical in its general tone and outlook, which seems to revel in the very sex and violence it’s purportedly condemning, THE CHILDREN OF VIOLENT ROME is a picture so exploitative and so unlikable (which doesn’t mean you shouldn’t watch it!), it’s impossible to root for any of the characters in the film. Although Schizzo’s gang subsists as petty thieves, which even includes the spontaneous theft of a motorcycle, Savino’s does instill some depth of character and pathos when Schizzo is seen scrounging for food, but then quickly shatters that illusion when he and his gang rape a woman and beat-up her boyfriend in lover’s lane. As if answering some unspoken desire of the director himself, even one of the film’s many rape victims (Cristina Businari) begins to enjoy her ordeal, after which she vehemently extols the virtues of being forcibly taken, “It’s violence which excites us to the most extreme limits!” In essence, Savino merely gives us his take on the events leading up to that fateful act of violence or “extreme limit,” which involves the brutal re-enactment of the Circeo Massacre that is difficult to forget. Ultimately, the film offers no solutions to a complex sociological problem other than a quick afterthought flashed across the screen by film’s end, “We’ve shown you what could happen. What are you going to do to stop it?” which, if anything else, plainly reveals Savino’s right-wing sympathies.  

 

Despite large doses of sex and violence, THE CHILDREN OF VIOLENT ROME was mainly intended for domestic consumption whose very Italian perspective must have seemed like a real handicap for foreign exporters, so it should come as no surprise that even on home video, the film never made it out of Italy. Released on Italian VHS by PCX Home Video, which included a decent widescreen transfer of the film, it eventually made the jump to DVD in 2005 courtesy of Italy’s Surf Video as part of their “Serie Z” sub-label, but this nice-looking edition was once again not English-friendly. Skipping forward 20-years, boutique label Terror Vision decided to issue this “problematic” film on Blu-ray, in what is easily the film’s definitive release. “Scanned and restored in 2K from its original camera negative,” TV’s region free Blu looks immaculate, delivering a solid, detailed image that really brings out the film’s heretofore unseen colour palette, while accurately depicting the grim surroundings of the eternally divided Eternal City. The Italian DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono track is also consistently clear without any issues to report, while the optional English subtitles provided by Eugenio Ercolani and Francesco Massaccesi, no doubt replicate the Roman dialect as precisely as possible. 

 

In view of the film’s tricky nature, Terror Vision have put together several interesting extras to help put everything in context beginning with an audio commentary from Italian cinema experts Eugenio Ercolani and Nanni Cobretti where they discuss everything from the film’s “broad-term” English translation of the film’s title, the “watershed moment in Italian culture” that inspired the film and Renato Savino’s short career as a production manager, writer and director working in the “underbelly of the industry.” Of course, they also talk about the Circeo Massacre (“One of the most heinous and despicable events to ever occur in Italy.”) and how Savino’s “instant movie” is a “kaleidoscope of what Italy was and will become” at the time, the film’s many troubling elements, the many different dialects used in the film, which are lost on North American English-speaking audiences, and some of the similarities to Romolo Guerrieri’s superior YOUNG, VIOLENT, DANGEROUS (1976). It’s a very good, fact-filled conversion, which not only helps reveal Italy’s political turmoil at the time of the film’s production, but a great deal about low-budget filmmaking, and Savino’s unique place in the lower-echelons of the Italian film industry. TV’s Blu-ray also includes another commentary track with Rachael Nisbet who provides a more scholarly observation into the film’s many “sociological subtexts,” Savino’s “directorial intentions,” the headlines of the era and similar confrontations between Neo-fascists and anarchist communists in the piazza San Babila in Milan, which was also extensively covered in Carlo Lizzani’s remarkable but equally-shocking SAN BABILA 8.P.M. (1976). She also goes over much of Savino’s background, details on the cast and crew, the film’s poor critical reception, which was described by some reviewers as “so crude and superficial that it borders on the laughable” and the “contentious attitudes of the time,” in what is yet another in-depth and well-researched listen for this “provocative” film.

 

Eugenio Ercolani also produces a few must-see featurettes beginning with Cutting a Violent Rome (24m), an on-camera interview with editor Roberto Colangeli who goes over much of his career including his early stints working with his father Otello Colangeli who was difficult to work with, but at the same time, he learned much of his trade from his father and veteran cutter. As for the film at hand, he thought it was a “very cheap and bad film, but does admit it also has “a very rough and natural” feel which works in its favour. He also chats about some of his working relationships with other directors such as Renato Polselli and Mario Gariazzo. In The Lawless Breed (27m25s), character actor Marco Zuanelli, best remembered for his role as Wobbles in Sergio Leone’s masterpiece ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST (1969), talks extensively about his time working with Savino who was “very humane despite being meticulous and strict on set,” and a “fascist from head-to-toe!” Eventually, he fell out of acting (he is an architect by trade) because from a “human standpoint,” he didn’t like the environment. He also gets a chuckle at the Americans who are “wasting their time over this flick!” Gino Milli (a.k.a. Luigi Miglietta) is interviewed next in Baby Face Gino (32m24s) where he talks about his start in the film business including a number of small parts in prestigious films from the likes of Pietro Germi and Mauro Bolognini alongside several exploitation films (“I accepted those parts mostly to survive.”), which, if anything, allowed him to extend his acting capabilities. As expected, he also discusses working with Savino and said film, which he found “tough to make” due to its subject matter, and how he became “disenchanted” after losing a major role to Michele Placido in Alberto Negrin’s mini-series IL PICIOTTO (1973). The disc also comes with an informative booklet with a “collection of essays” from Pier Maria Bocchi, Sam Dunkley, Sam Cohen, and Alexandra Heller-Nicholas.

 

While it lacks many of the genre’s traditional trappings such as pyrotechnics, Renato Savino’s THE CHILDREN OF VIOLENT ROME is definitely a watchable enough crossover with enough deviant delinquency to keep fans of more straight-ahead polizieschi consistently entertained.  

HIGH TENSION - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Lamberto Bava’s DEMONS (1985) and its sequel DEMONS 2 (1986) were sizable hits around the world, and based on the strength of his work on those films, Bava was entrusted by Reteitalia’s Silvio Berlusconi to try and deliver the same magic to the small screen. The result was BRIVIDO GIALLO, a series of four pictures with titles that included GRAVEYARD DISTURBANCE (1987), UNTIL DEATH (1988), THE OGRE (1989) and DINNER WITH A VAMPIRE (1989), which were eventually aired on Italian television in 1989 with little to no fanfare. While these above-average tele-films did eventually find an audience through several home video releases around the world (even before their airings on Italian television), their notoriously poor reception didn’t fare well for Bava’s next television series ALTA TENSIONE (a.k.a. HIGH TENSION), which was abruptly dropped from Reteitalia’s broadcast schedule upon completion. Featuring another quartet of films, Severin Films have miraculously resurrected these highly-watchable, and at times gleefully violent pictures on Blu-ray, which should definitely help develop and cement their stature among fans of Italian horror.

 

Based on a story by the mysterious Ira Goldman with a script by the incredibly prolific Dardano Sacchetti, THE PRINCE OF TERROR (1989) is a fitting start to Severin’s box set and a significant entry in the series on account of its neat self-awareness about the erstwhile Italian movie industry. Tomas Arana stars as famed horror director Vincent Omen, who, in keeping with the film’s title, is better known under his egotistical alter-ego, The Prince of Terror. Following a botched day of shooting on his latest opus (“The scene is ridiculous! It sucks!”), he fires his long-established screenwriter Paul Hilary (David Brandon), and much to Paul’s chagrin, he vows to re-write the entire film. Early on, Vincent is interviewed by a plucky reporter (Virginia Bryant) at his favourite golf course where he talks about his work (“I like telling stories about life, and life is full of horror.”) and resolutely insists that he’s “pretty much like everybody else,” despite having a dog named Demon and golf balls labeled 666. Later that night, as he prepares for a dinner party with his wife Betty (Carole Andre) and his daughter Susan (Joyce Pitti), Vincent’s philosophies about making horror films become all-too real when a pair of men invade their home…

 

Helped along by slick and glossy production values, THE PRINCE OF TERROR is essentially yet another variation of the home invasion theme, but Sacchetti’s quirky screenplay also hints at his many real-life disputes with directors such as Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci. As Nathaniel Thompson and Troy Howarth point out in their audio commentary (more on that later), Sacchetti’s career was “tainted with anger, jealousy and resentment” over some of the criticisms directed at his scripts, so this may have been a “fantasy scenario” of sorts for the embittered writer. At any rate, the film adds plenty of fresh ideas to the same old story, which helps keep everything incredibly entertaining. Also, thanks to some strong performances, the generally tense and rather menacing mood is nicely sustained throughout as Vincent and his family try and dissuade their attackers, which allows the wild scenario to stretch its steadily deceptive logic, including several surprises best left unspoiled here, but rest assured, that final twist is a real eye-opener, which viewers won’t soon forget.

 

Although THE PRINCE OF TERROR did receive a belated home video release on Italian VHS, most Italo horror fans (at least in North America) first caught up with this unique picture via awful dubbed-down copies that did the film no favours whatsoever. As with the other titles in this set, TPOT was scanned and restored in 2K from its original camera negative, and the results are quite stunning, which helps bring out all its previously unseen colors and textures. Each film in the set also comes with DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono tracks in both English and Italian, which sound clean and free of any distortion, and in the case of TPOT, it was shot using live sound, so English is by far and away the preferred option. 

 

Given the rather fascinating premise, Severin have commissioned several worthy special features for their disc beginning with an audio commentary with Mondo Digital’s Nathaniel Thompson and So Deadly, So Perverse: 50 Years of Giallo Films (Midnight Marquee Press, 2015) author Troy Howarth in which they enthusiastically discuss its origins including the “playful meta aspect,” the film’s unfortunate release schedule (“The timing was just off.”), and how it packs in a lot of interesting elements into a unique “pressure-cooker dynamic.” They also go over Sacchetti’s “quick and efficient” writing style and his numerous run-ins with directors over the years, which possibly led to this very odd “revenge script.” Naturally, this is another very valuable listen with both men providing plenty of engaging insight into not only TPOT, but Lamberto Bava’s vastly underappreciated television work as well. In The Adventures of Anfri (16m46s), Bava sits down for a talk about his production company Anfri, which he formed with Andrea Piazzesi, their production deal with Reteitalia, his enduring – and important - friendship with Dario Argento and Daria Nicolodi, his desire to shoot in 35mm, his reasons for switching to television, and how he was always “mindful of his father’s teachings.” In We Call Him Maestro (17m52s), Lamberto Bava sits down for another on-camera interview where he discusses said film in greater detail including its “mockery of the horror genre business,” his relationship with Sacchetti, the decision to shoot using live sound, the actors, and the film’s many special effects. 

 

Based upon a short story by Ukrainian-Italian author Giorgio Scerbanenco (1911-1969), Bava’s THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T DIE (1989) marked the first time Lamberto Bava filmed one of the author’s stories. Regarded as one of Italy’s most popular crime/mystery novelists, Scerbanenco’s books have periodically been adapted to the Italian movie screen in such films as Duccio Tessari’s DEATH OCCURRED LAST NIGHT (1970) and Fernando Di Leo’s MILAN CALIBRE 9 (1972), so this was a nice change of pace for the director. Shot in the beautiful seaside towns of Santa Margherita Ligure, Portofino, and Genoa, the story centres on a group of thieves led by Fabrizio (Keith Van Hoven from Lucio Fulci’s THE HOUSE OF CLOCKS [1989]) that have been hired by high-end fence Mme. Janeau (Martine Brochard) to steal several works of fine art from a luxurious palazzo. Everything proceeds smoothly, but when Gianetto (Gino Concari), a hotheaded member of this tight-knit crew, steals a priceless Renoir painting for himself and hides it within the house, further complications arise when he also rapes the bound and gagged housemaid as her husband watches. Thanks to a swift kick in the head from her trussed-up hubby, this reckless scumbag gets his deserved comeuppance, leaving him catatonic and spitting blood. Left for dead, the second half of the film follows the dogged pursuit of the thieves (by someone in a black trench coat and large fedora, no less!) amidst the sordid, shadow realm of the underworld, while Mme. Janeau tries to re-appropriate that missing painting…

 

Part crime actioner and part heist film, THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T DIE is also equal parts giallo, and much like the other Scerbanenco contributions from the previous decade, it’s populated by a number of unscrupulous characters, each firmly believing that the ends justify the means in the realization of their goals; perhaps the most ruthless of all is the elegant and stylishly dressed Mme. Janeau (superbly realized by Euro veteran Martine Brochard), who straddles that twilight zone between the working-class thieves and the über-rich whose obsessions know no limits. Sophisticated enough to avoid most clichés, Bava and long-time editor Daniele Alabiso deliver some fairly tight pacing, and despite a couple of short-comings, including Gianetto’s middling relationship with his concerned girlfriend (Daniela Franchi), which even attempts to instill some rather laughable – but well-intended - social commentary (“When you’re born wrong, it isn’t easy getting right.” Remarks Gianetto.), it makes for an altogether engrossing and satisfying addition to the series, which is further bolstered by another stunning restoration.

 

Extras begin with The Scerbanenco Touch (22m17s), which has Lamberto Bava on hand again to talk about the author, the many recurring themes prevalent in his work, and how this project was originally started by his father Mario. He also praises the aforementioned locations used for the film, as well as his assistant director Ferzan Ozpetek and some of “formidable” actors in the main roles. Utilizing a lengthy archival interview with Dardano Sacchetti where he discusses some of his earlier work, Bava once again chimes in about his thoughts on Sacchetti in Stephen King Italian Style (15m23s) and, despite being friends, admits he always had a “chip on his shoulder.”

 

Taking a decidedly different tack, the third film in Severin’s set accents talkative drama over visual viscera, but SCHOOL OF FEAR (1989) also offers plenty of mounting tension and a dominant tone of unease in this simple enough premise about evil tykes at an upper-crust school. Staying resolutely within the bounds of plausibility, Diana Berti (Alessandra Acciai) arrives at the Giacomo Stuz private school to replace the previous teacher who mysteriously fell to her death on the school grounds. Despite being warmly welcomed by most of the staff, even if for the wrong reasons (“She’s good looking, pretty young and has great legs.”), she begins to sense that something “doesn’t ring true for the way those kids behave in school.” Resentful for poking her nose into their hermetically sealed world of deception and dark games, these kids even resort to digging up former traumas from Diana’s past, but despite all this, even the local cop (Jean Herbert), who ostensibly at least sympathizes with her plight, refuses to believe her, which is further stressed by the film’s final disorienting revelation. 

 

Severely testing the courage of Diana’s convictions to their very core, Alessandra Acciai puts in a wonderful, grounded performance as the terrorized teacher where she is given a lot of breathing room to help develop her character. Penned by Robert Gandus (who also wrote Lamberto Bava’s MACABRE [a.k.a. FROZEN TERROR, 1980], his first – and arguably – best film) with further additions from Sacchetti and Giorgio Stegani, strong writing and performances all-round (including Daria Nicolodi as the school’s headmaster) are further supported by Boswell’s assured score, which compliments the grim narrative without ever overwhelming it. The impressive Livorno locations also add sufficient resonance whose hidden secrets convey a power over not just the kids, but many of its long-term inhabitants. Although boasting very little bloodshed, SCHOOL OF FEAR is quite tense and very compelling and can definitely hold its own alongside some of Lamberto Bava’s best work. 

 

Bava returns for another on-camera interview to discuss SCHOOL OF FEAR in The Tale of Evil Children (18m15s) where he shares his thoughts on kids in horror, how Walt Disney’s BAMBI (1942) “freaked him out” as a child, and how death affects children differently. He also acknowledges his writers and actors with a special mention for Acciai and Nicolodi, the benefits of the Livorno locations, and how they played a part in the origin of his subsequent series FANTAGHIRÒ (a.k.a. THE CAVE OF THE GOLDEN ROSE, 1991-1996). Writer Robert Gandus is interviewed next in Play the Game (9m45s) and firstly discusses his work on MACABRE and Bava’s talent as a director, how SOF was inspired by Alfred Hitchcock’s ROPE (1948), and how it was originally slated to be his directorial debut. Next up, composer Simon Boswell sits down for an interview in When Bava Met Boswell (31m56s) where he declares “all roads lead to Dario Argento when it comes to my Italian film work,” which commences with a discussion about his “fantastic opportunity” to work on Argento’s PHENOMENA (a.k.a. CREEPERS, 1984), and the many future opportunities it created working on “rip-offs and B-movies,” but he is most enthusiastic about his 11-film collaboration with Bava whom he regards as “approachable and polite,” and who let him do his thing without any issues. 

 

As with the other films in this series, seeing EYEWITNESS (1989) again in such an optimal presentation brought about a whole new appreciation for this solid suspense yarn with unavoidable gialli elements. Best known for her roles in Michele Soavi’s STAGE FRIGHT (1987) and THE CHURCH (1988), Barbara Cupisti stars as Elisa, a blind woman who becomes trapped in a shopping mall after some petty shoplifting, but then inadvertently witnesses the brutal murder of a young woman (Loredana Romito) at the hands of the mall’s manager (Alessio Orano). Consequent to his initial mistaken suspicions of Elisa and her friend Karl (Giuseppe Pianviti), Inspector Barker (Stefano Davanzati) enlists the cooperation of Elisa because she can “recognize people by their vibrations,” but when Karl implicates himself by running, he becomes the prime suspect, but the real killer begins covering his tracks to try and keep his true identity incognito, which of course, results in even more murders… 

 

Written by seasoned bigwigs Massimo De Rita and Giorgio Stegani (from a story by Andrea Piazzesi), their script accents plenty of mind games between the polizia and sospetti, as when Elisa knowingly points out a potential suspect (Francesco Casale) from a line-up to help protect her friend Karl or when the killer attempts to sow seeds of suspicion by introducing previously unseen evidence to the police. In the interests of making headway with his investigation, Barker also resorts to several instances of sly manipulation during his budding relationship with Elisa (“If you can’t see me, feel me.”) and uses her without a moment’s notice whenever required. As Elisa, Cupisti is wonderful as the prime, if blind, suspect whose initial naïveté quickly supplants that of Barker as the real brains of the investigation, and who also isn’t afraid to use her body to entice and influence the Inspector, even as he and his partner (a solid turn from ex-pat Mary Sellers, who also appeared in STAGE FRIGHT) must wade through a maze of false leads. As the sufficiently intimidating killer, Alessio Orano, who also appeared in papa Bava’s LISA AND THE DEVIL (1972), also relishes his part as the cold-blooded and reprehensible scuzzbag, whose vile nature contributes significantly to the film’s general nastiness, a throwback of sorts to the trashy Italo ’70s spirit, which is further capped off by the film’s unforgettable ending. 

 

Once again, Severin’s new 2K restoration vastly improves on any and all previous bootleg copies and wonky TV broadcasts drawing attention to DP Gianfranco Transunto’s (he also photographed the previous three segments in this series) strong visual aesthetic with an image so crisp, colourful and detailed, it’s sure to amaze viewers at just how good this new restoration looks, which helps further support the film’s immersive atmosphere. 

 

For the last film in this set, Severin have once again provided an impressive array of special features beginning with an audio commentary from returning Italo film experts Nathaniel Thompson and Troy Howarth where they offer in-depth observations into this “visually fascinating” film including some of its shocking “sexual assault aspects,” how Bava “tests the boundaries of what a giallo is” and how it “plays a lot of tribute to other gialli,” the film’s interesting score and many “over-lapping cues,” the distinctive quality of each segment of the series, and contributions about most of the cast and crew in what is another standout listen and valuable addition to this set. 

 

In the appropriately-titled The Last Giallo (15m42s), Lamberto Bava sits down for his final interview in this set, which has him going over said film’s beginnings with an emphasis on De Rita’s working methods (“He wrote everything by hand, with pen and pencil.”), and De Rita’s enduring friendship with his father Mario Bava. Next up, the lovely Barbara Cupisti is interviewed in Love is Blind (12m26s) where she reminiscences about the first-time she met Michele Soavi at an audition and their subsequent relationship, her first role in Lucio Fulci’s THE NEW YORK RIPPER (1982), her time working with Lamberto and the “great care and focus” she put into her role. 

In what is an already stacked set, Severin also includes a Bava / Boswell Compilation CD (15 tracks, 43m41s) of several previously unreleased tracks, which only sweetens this already pivotal – and must-have - collection of criminally-neglected TV terrors. Highly recommended! 

THE SOULTANGLER - BLU-RAY REVIEW

For this exceedingly low-budget if ambitious splatterfest, director Pat Bishow’s main inspiration was to create something “different”, right down to the film’s, um, colourful title. For all its faults though, THE SOULTANGLER (1987) remains one of the more engaging D.I.Y. ’80s horror films, which was recently released on Blu-ray thanks to Bleeding Skull Video.

Dr. Anton Lupesky (Pierre Deveaux) has developed a new drug called Anphorium, which somehow allows people to transfer their souls into “any human corpse, provided it has eyes”; since the eyes are the window to the soul, as it’s said, this kinda makes sense in a way. However, his drug also affects the person’s nerve centers, causing vivid and highly horrific hallucinations. Thus Dr. Lupesky, has his assistants Carl (Bob Cederberg) and Jessica (Louise Millman) abduct females (“Women are everywhere on the streets these days!”), so he can continue his unorthodox experiments down in the dingy, gore-strewn basement which doubles as his laboratory. Meanwhile, in hopes of uncovering the truth about her father’s death, a feisty, chain-smoking reporter named Kim (Jamie Kinser) begins looking into Lupesky’s work…

 

Made by Bishow’s family and friends over a week-long period in Long Island, New York in 1985, THE SOULTANGLER is certainly one of the more offbeat – and at one point elusively hard-to-see – “homemade” movies to emerge out of the ’80s. However, for all its innate liveliness and grandiose ideas, it’s also padded with countless scenes of characters walking and driving from one location to another or simply sitting in offices, which achieves a rather strange, almost hypnotic quality in-between its horrific highlights. Drawn-out and disorienting, the film’s primary intention still remains depicting lots of bloody splatter, and like Stuart Gordon’s RE-ANIMATOR (1985), the film it most closely resembles thematically speaking, much of it is reserved for the gore-soaked finale, which features plenty of enthusiastic – and effective – blood-spattering F/X work, including decapitations, resurrected zombies, pulsating headless brains (with their eyes still attached, no less!), and one poor schmoe getting strangulated by a zombie’s dangling intestines.

 

Shot in 16mm and later edited on video, Bleeding Skull’s fully-loaded Blu-ray is a solid upgrade from AGFA’s earlier 2018 DVD, which was transferred and restored from the original 1-inch master tapes, and the results are about what you’d expect from such a hand-to-mouth endeavour. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono audio is also free of both distortion or an overabundance of hiss, with HypnoLoveWheel (i.e., Jim Cook, Griffin Dickerman and Chris Xefos)’s decent electronic score sounding just fine. Unlike Mondo’s / AGFA’s earlier retro big-box VHS edition from 2014 or the once even-harder-to-find Canadian VHS from Astral Video (circa, 1992), which housed the standard (89m42s) edition of the film, Bleeding Skull have once again included the “previously unseen 62-minute director’s cut”, which, despite its shorter running time, plays far more effectively. In director Pat Bishow’s feature-length audio commentary, he goes on to discuss how the distributor forced him to “pad it out to 90-minutes” because it was simply too short. So, much to his dismay, using previously discarded takes and extra footage, Bishow went on to explain Anphorium and also add all those unnecessary filler scenes of people walking and driving, which he equates to “torture”. He also goes on to talk about the trials of shooting a low-budget film such as this, as well as discussing many of the Long Island locations (including that filthy basement!), and how much of it was “done on the fly,” plus he also mentions the uncooperative nature of Kinser, who “wasn’t very nice.” While Bishow begins his commentary by exclaiming “I can’t believe anybody is actually listening to this!” he goes on to fill the 90 minutes with ease. Other extras include The Making of The Soultangler (12m13s), with plentiful behind-the-scenes footage shot in May of 1985, the film’s original video trailer (“From every corner emerges total terror!”), still another video trailer from Bishow’s earlier film, THE DEAD OF NIGHT TOWN (1983), and a music video shot by Bishow for HypnoLoveWheel’s “Wow!” (2m56s). In addition to including new – and wholly appropriate – cover art by Matt “Putrid” Carr, the disc also comes with reversible art featuring the film’s very rare Canadian VHS release. 

 

As an added, much welcome bonus, Bleeding Skull’s new Blu-ray also includes Bishow’s seldom-seen IT’S A HAUNTED HAPPENIN’! (2002), an SOV monster-mash musical comedy obviously inspired by the animated Hanna-Barbera series JOSIE AND THE PUSSYCATS (1970-1971). An all-female rock group (led by Jaime Andrews), who are called The Soultanglers (’natch), end up at a haunted house where Dr. Valerius is conducting experiments with his sidekick Gomar (Andrew Roussin) is his colourfully festooned laboratory. While not exactly the most hilarious film, it’s whimsical enough to enjoy as a homage to monster movies, which also includes a rampaging mummy, a gorilla, and plenty of musical interludes that provide a momentary oasis during some of the film’s slow parts, at least. Once again Bishow returns for another easy-going audio commentary, this time with co-writer Jon Sanborne, which is once again jam-packed about the ins-and-outs of low-budget filmmaking, their many influences and a particular fondness for “those old dubbed Mexican horror movies,” some of the initial music rights issues they faced, details on all of the music and bands used in the film, the public access show Ghoul-A-Go-Go, the Scooby Doo inspired ending, and all of their friends and family that also appeared in the film. 

 

Shot for peanuts, THE SOULTANGLER still emerges as a diverting no-mind horror cheapie, and still way easier to take than most other ’80s D.I.Y. or SOV films. 

EVA MAN - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Essentially a vehicle customized to the talents of transgender ‘superstar’ Eva Robin’s, who is probably best remembered for her brief, but integral role in Dario Argento’s TENEBRE (1982), Antonio D’Agostino’s EVA MAN (1980) and it’s rarely-seen sequel THE RETURN OF EVA MAN (1982), which is also included on this disc, are a pair of highly-enjoyable and very likeable films, which also proudly boast fellow trans icon Ajita Wilson among its small but dedicated cadre of actors. Considering their still topical content, which happily promote transgender inclusivity, it’s hardly surprising these films found few exhibitors in the English-speaking world upon their initial release, and for that alone, Mondo Macabro should be commended for distributing these rather remarkable Eurotrash oddities on Blu-ray. 

Alongside a surfeit of flashing lights and iridescent bubbles (!), the film’s playfully infectious tone is evident right from the get go with Eva (Eva Robin’s, herein credited as Eva Coatti) performing a lively dance number set to Alessandro Alessandroni’s giddy, disco-infused One Sunday Morning. Occasionally mimicking a ’60s-style Eurospy flick and a ’70s white-coater, EVA MAN follows the exploits of Eva, the frequently nude and “most beautiful hermaphroditic specimen in the world.” Through a variety of sexual experiments at an impoverished Kinsey-like institute, a fatherly professor (Attilio Dottesio) has implanted a tiny sexual stimulator called a “sexmaker” in Eva’s crotch (which she can control through a specially made ring) to help develop the male and female stimuli and make her a “perfect complete being.” When Eva’s friend Ajita (Ajita Wilson), who also happens to have a doctor’s thesis in medicine (“I’m an expert. Show me what you got!”), visits the professor, further tests are conducted when Eva makes love to Ajita while the professor carefully observes. Meanwhile, an impotent criminal magnate (Ramón Centenero), also wants to get his hands on this one-of-a-kind sexmaker in order to satisfy his sexually voracious wife (Sara Mora), so he dispatches a couple of bumbling goons to kidnap Eva, but in their stupidity, they accidentally abduct the professor’s maid Cristina (Vanna Napolitano, herein credited as ‘Renata Napolitano’ who is perhaps known as ‘Annj Goren’, unsung actor of many a Joe D’Amato film) who obviously doesn’t have a “thingy.” Mostly taking a backseat to goofball shenanigans and lots of simulated sex, the somewhat messy scenario also culminates in further kidnappings, castration threats, and a sloppily orchestrated kung fu punch-up with Super Eva doing lots of flying ’fu leaps.

 

Although basically a smaller-scale retread of the innumerable sex comedies of the ’70s laid atop a sex film chassis, the real attention grabber is the added bonus of a meatier-than-usual part for trans actor Robin’s. Despite the flimsiest of plots, Robin’s gives an entertaining and occasionally over-the-top performance, who isn’t afraid to flaunt her “something extra,” including several full-frontal underwater shots whenever she takes a dip in the professor’s luxurious outdoor pool, which is often. Although respectful of trans rights, an occasional geek show quality still permeates the film, which also includes a barrage of jokes that some may find foolish and distasteful, but for the most part, it’s too good-natured to take anything very seriously. For the film’s epilogue, Eva even performs her hit song ‘Disco Panther’ in a white sequined jump suit while her friends excitedly look on. A fitting conclusion to this breezy sex comedy, indeed. 

Made back-to-back with EVA MAN, D’Agostino’s fare more elusive THE RETURN OF EVA MAN features much of the same basic ridiculousness, although classifying them as two separate films is certainly a bit of a stretch. Released to Spanish cinemas with the fitting title of LA PITOCONEJO (‘The Cockp**sy’) and credited to Spanish director Zacarías Urbiola Salinas for tax purposes, both Eva and Ajita return once again as does Attilio Dottesio as the wise, philosophical surgeon (now called Dr. Pissinger) who this time devises a “love-gun” (“Better than an aphrodisiac!”) that can instantly unleash a person’s sexual hungers, which he believes could potentially save the world. However, when General Pepper (Centenaro), an excitable megalomaniacal militarist who is obsessed with fantasies of global conquest, gets wind of this of this new contraption, he decides it would be a perfect weapon to help distract the local populace and then overthrow the government. 

 

Although only the closing dance number from EVA MAN seems to have been recycled here (which is this time placed at the start of the film), all of the supporting cast members also return, albeit in different roles, which definitely causes some initial confusion in this machinegun barrage of lovable stupidity. Once again brimming with skin, and plenty of lowbrow humour (“You’ve got a lot of hair down there! It’s like a jungle!”) sure to displease some viewers, the film also contains, for no apparent reason, a patently ridiculous yellowface character named Genghis Khan complete with a Fu Manchu-styled mustache, who even engages in a bout of stick-fighting, which goes beyond the mere surreal and into absolute unreality. And just like Wonder Woman, Super Eva battles with General Pepper’s henchman (“No kicks in the ass!”) in the grand finale alongside a cacophony of cheesy sound effects and canned kung-fu-styled music in this irresistibly daft confection. 

 

Outside of a handful of European VHS releases, which, much to D’Agostino’s displeasure, usually included the heavily-altered hardcore version of the film, which completely destroyed its unique carefree qualities, EVA MAN also showed up on French-Canadian VHS as AMBI-SEX in the same bastardized variant. Thankfully, Mondo Macabro have included the original Spanish language versions of both films (minus all the intrusive and painfully mismatched hardcore scenes) on their fully-stacked disc, and in the case of EVA MAN, it’s a substantial improvement over its analog releases. Retaining their original 1.85:1 widescreen framing, both films feature new 2K restorations that look clean, bright, and colorful (the exterior scenes around the pool look especially vibrant), which greatly enhance their very modest production values and Hans Burmann’s rather functional camerawork. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Spanish mono on both films also sound fine, and are both nicely supported by several CAM library tracks from composer Alessandro Alessandroni including a couple of noticeable cues from Joe D’Amato’s PORNO EXOTIC LOVE (1980).

 

As usual, MM offers up a wealth of interesting special features beginning with an audio commentary with Caden Mark Gardner and Willow Catelyn Maclay, co-authors of Corpses, Fools and Monsters: The History and Future of Transness in Cinema (Repeater, 2024) who go over this “remarkable document” and its “multi-talented superstar” Eva Robin’s. They go on to provide plenty of insightful context on the film itself while also realizing its highly satirical nature, its ability not to shame the audience and its liberating aspects. They also discuss Robin’s’ overall career including her roles in Luigi Cozzi’s two HERCULES movies as well as some of the “fetishism endemic to this time period of filmmaking.” Having more admiration for the film than Jacques Audiard’s recent Oscar-winner EMILIA PÉREZ (2024), they fully admit that EVA MAN does sound like a “carnival sideshow on paper,” but they love its “cotton candy airy quality” and “independent spirit” just the same. Like the film itself, their commentary is a rather jovial listen, which also manages to help generate a better appreciation of its two trans actors, and the film’s very oddball charms. 

 

In what is perhaps the most welcome extra on the entire disc is All About Eva (21m16s), an on-camera interview with Eva Robin’s herself who goes over the start of her career as a backing vocalist, her screen debut in D’Agostino’s directorial debut CEREMONY OF THE SENSES (1979) where she revealed her “body’s surprises” and her very revealing role in EVA MAN (“Not exactly suitable for convent school girls!”) of which she is both “ashamed and proud.” She also discusses her warm relationship with Ajita Wilson, her “avant-garde” director, the film’s Italian-shot locations at actor Giorgio Ardisson’s house, and the painful muscle cramps she experienced during her fight scenes. Next up, D’Agostino aficionado and expert Ian Higbee provides a thorough examination of D’Agostino’s fascinating career in his visual essay Chiaro e Scuro: The Double Life of Antonio D’Agostino (20m14s). Utilizing lots of photos of the director’s art pieces, and rare film clips from some of his more audacious adult films and experimental works, there is a lot to appreciate here thanks to Higbee’s superb-research and keen enthusiasm. In the equally absorbing Solving the Ajita Wilson Mystery (47m58s), film historian Alex Mendíbil attempts to get the record straight about Wilson’s life and career, which has been littered with “false information, legends and rumours.” From early roles in Cesare Canevari’s THE NUDE PRINCESS (1975) and Guido Zurli’s BLACK DEEP THROAT (1977), most of her films merely “exploited her statuesque and exotic body but nothing else,” which kept her busy working in Greece, Italy, and Spain where she also caught the attention of maverick filmmaker Jess Franco, which led to further roles in other Clasificada “S” films such as Carlos Aured’s SEX APOCALYPSE (1982). 

 

The disc is further boosted with an on-camera interview with DP Hans Burmann (22m42s) who talks about his lifelong career in film and the naturalistic approach of his work (“I didn’t do strange things.”), and while he doesn’t discuss said film very much, he does acknowledge that he put all his “enthusiasm into it, but it didn’t really show.” In Echoes of Eva(11m16s), sound technician Luciano Muratori speaks about his time working on low-budget productions with production manager Ennio Onorati and Eva Robin’s’ first on-set nude scene (“Seeing Eva was surprising!”). Other extras include METAMORFOSI (13m20s), one of D’Agostino’s latter-day performance art pieces, and EVA MAN’s alternate Spanish ending, which eliminates Eva’s Disco Panther dance number. As usual, MM’s Limited Red Case Edition also includes a set of art cards, and a nicely-illustrated 24-page liner notes booklet with a comprehensive essay by Ismael Fernandez, who also has plenty to say about this pair of silly, yet unmistakably rebellious and fearless exploitation films, which, like Mondo Macabro itself, are in a class by themselves.