THE SEWER RATS - DVD REVIEW

Based on a story by the film’s star Richard Harrison, Roberto Montero’s seldom-seen crime melodrama THE SEWER RATS (1973), which was released in Italy under the far more fitting title UNA DONNA PER SETTE BASTARDI (trans: “A Woman for Seven Bastards”), is one of those oddball hybrids that defies adequate categorization. In keeping with the time and place in which it was made, the film merely transposes a rudimentary spaghetti western premise into a contemporary, cost-efficient setting, and like its predecessors, is also inhabited with the usual assortment of implacable characters. Simultaneously amateurish yet entertaining, Montero’s grubby little picture provides a convenient – if impoverished - bridge between the once fashionable spaghetti western trend and the grittier ’70s crime films, which at the time, were just gaining popularity on Italian cinema screens.

 

A veteran of numerous Italian westerns himself, Harrison stars as the eponymous stranger who arrives at a decrepit old mining town after his battered Volkswagen Beetle breaks down on a desolate dirt road. Burdened with a game leg (he is later referred to as simply “the cripple”), he immediately gains the distrust of the town’s deprived populace (which consists of six people in total!), and told to promptly, “Move it on outta here, like a cat with its tail on fire!” As if to recall his former days as a Clint Eastwood impersonator, Harrison (he was in fact offered the role in Sergio Leone’s trailblazing Italian western A FISTFUL OF DOLLARS [1964] before Eastwood) commits himself with the proper panache as the antiheroic lead, squinting his eyes and grasping at his one crutch (which serves as his weapon of choice in these here parts), as if he were about to take part in a quick-draw showdown. 

 

It doesn’t take Harrison long to realize that the reptilian Carl (Antonio Casale, who also appeared in Sergio Martino’s solid Italocrime picture THE VIOLENT PROFESSIONALS the same year) holds “the knife by the handle around this joint”, which consists of several “pigsty shacks” in the middle of nowhere. And to make matters worse, Carl is also the owner of the town’s only vehicle, which he uses to bring back supplies like “beer and whiskey”, but it’s Carl’s insatiably adulterous wife Rita (Dagmar Lassander), the town’s only woman who, with her bedroom glances, causes further distrust and dissention among this group of scoundrels (“She’s worse than drugs that woman!”). 

 

But despite the double-crossing inclinations of the entire cast, it is the brooding Gordon (Gordon Mitchell, nicely dubbed on English prints by prolific voice actor Robert Sommer), an ex-Army vet, who manages to keep most of the town in check. It is revealed early on that both Carl and Gordon have, unbeknownst to everyone else, stashed a substantial amount of gold mined by an earlier interloper, who was also done away with during the film’s cryptic prologue. However, when the gold suddenly goes missing, Gordon’s caginess soon escalates into hatred for his purely coincidental enemies, which leads to the expected, violent collision, and a none-too surprising revelation…

 

Utilizing Gordon Mitchell’s second-rate Cave Film Studios backlot (seen in umpteen Demofilo Fidani westerns and a sure-fire sign of the film’s cheapjack origins), the threadbare locale does serve the film well, lending further weight to its already claustrophobic atmosphere. Featuring plenty of underhanded behavior, the highly talkative script is rather light on action, but makes up for it with plenty of scuzzy sexploitation. Co-written by Leila Buongiorno (who also co-wrote the script for Brunello Rondi’s WOMEN’S PRISON [1974], yet another lurid sexploitation film), Dagmar Lassander is exploited to the max and seems to enjoy taking advantage of her smoldering sexuality (“Stop your playin’ around, or one day you’ll have to pay for it!”), but when Smith (Ivano Staccioli), one of the more unbalanced miscreants in the group, attempts to rape her (“I’m gonna get mine!”), she fights him off with a broken J&B bottle. However, this doesn’t stop her from continually teasing and taunting all the sexually frustrated men, much to the chagrin of her abusive husband Carl, whereupon he viciously rapes her in an extended bit of brutality. 

 

Considering all the film’s nihilism, much of the colorful B-movie cast (which also includes the always reliable Luciano Rossi as a mute, harmonica-playing hunchback and Andrea Checchi, who is a long way from his role alongside Barbara Steele in Mario Bava’s gothic masterpiece BLACK SUNDAY [1960]), is rather poorly developed and given very little to do other than loiter around their ramshackle surroundings, which, for the most part generates little suspense. Unlike the westerns it draws inspiration from, not a single gun is seen or used in the entire film, which is most certainly a novel approach to the material, but for the scrappy conclusion, THE SEWER RATS still serves up a couple of gory demises via a switchblade to the neck and a pitchfork to the gut, with Harrison utilizing his trusty walking aid most effectively. 

 

Montero (who is sometimes credited under his full name, Roberto Bianchi Montero), a more commercially-inclined filmmaker, who’s career goes all the way back to ’40s, worked in just about every conceivable genre the industry had to offer, but for whatever reason he never directed an all-out crime film. However, his earlier giallo-style hybrid THE EYE OF THE SPIDER (1972) and his subsequent softcore sex romp LA BRAVATA (1977), were set against the shadowy criminal underworld, but offer no such thrills seen in other, more prominent Eurocrime efforts. Despite its obvious financial limitations and somewhat leisurely pace, Montero wrings as much as possible from Harrison’s thin foundation, which is also helped along by the film’s enthusiastic cast, but the overall cheapness just about overwhelms everything. 

 

Never released on North American home video, THE SEWER RATS made the rounds via several home video labels throughout Europe, including a few English-friendly options such as Sunrise Video’s Greek VHS videocassette, which was widescreen, but also slightly cut. Although decent quality for the time, this tape was missing a part of the fight between Casale and Staccioli, but was intact on the exceedingly rare Venezuelan VHS videotape (as UNA MUJER PARA SIETE MACHOS). Outside of the grey market, it has remained difficult to see even during the digital age, but thanks to Germany’s Mr. Banker Films, THE SEWER RATS was quietly released on DVD in 2022. Distributed under its German title DAS RATTENNEST (trans: The Rats Nest) and limited to only 500 copies, this PAL region 2 DVD contains German, Italian and English audio options, and also retains the film’s original 1.85 framing (with 16x9 enhancement, to boot!), which definitely helps better appreciate Mario Mancini’s widescreen compositions. On the other hand, anyone expecting a pristine restoration may be disappointed. Taken from a slightly faded Italian print (which actually helps better accentuate the bleak desert locales), the usual scratches, dirt and debris are frequent, as are some occasional missing frames, but for the most part, it is completely watchable. Unsurprisingly, the audio is also full of imperfections and saddled with a lo-fi, VHS-like hiss, but given the film’s rarity, it’s still great to finally see this film get some attention, which, despite its many shortcomings, amounts to a decent little programmer. Order THE SEWER RATS from Amazon Germany.  

 

[Author’s Note: Many Thanks to Michael Anderson for some additional video info, and also to the late Bill Barounis for finding me a copy of the rare Greek VHS videocassette of THE SEWER RATS all those years ago.—DC]

2020 TEXAS GLADIATORS - UHD REVIEW

Video blurb from Media Home Entertainment’s 1985 VHS videocassette: “In the year 2020, hordes of road warriors swarmed across our shattered world, it was a time in need for heroes, it was time for… 2020 TEXAS GLADIATORS.”

Made hot on the heels of Aristide Massaccesi’s way-above-par ENDGAME (1983), yet other dystopian adventure with star Al Cliver, 2020 TEXAS GLADIATORS (1983) continued to further over-extend the popularity of George Miller’s THE ROAD WARRIOR (a.k.a. MAD MAX 2, 1982), and basically just dusted-off and revamped a leftover spaghetti western script, morphing it into a one-of-a-kind post-apocalyptic actioner instead. And if we’re to believe the familiar Anglicized ‘Kevin Mancuso’ byline, the film was also directed by maestro Massaccesi (better known to most Italosleaze devotees as Joe D’Amato), but it has since been revealed that the film is the unofficial directorial debut of Italian actor - and frequent Massaccesi collaborator - ‘George Eastman’/Luigi Montefiori, who also penned the screenplay. Although easily accessible during the ’80s via Media Home Entertainment’s VHS and Beta videocassettes, this unapologetically trashy film has remained stubbornly unavailable on disc in North America, but thanks to Severin Films’ impressive UHD(!)/BD combo, Italian trash fans can finally rejoice and see the film at its absolute best.

 

Following a raid on a group of marauding, green-faced mutants who have taken control of a local outpost, Nisus (Cliver) and his band of Texas Rangers (complete with colourful monikers like Catch Dog, Jab, Halakron, and Red Wolfe) handily execute everyone, but not before they witness the protracted rape of a nun, the crucifixion of a priest, and witness another nun gorily cut her own throat, scenes which got the film into hot waters at the now-defunct Ontario Film Review Board (OFRB) during the ’80s, who demanded several cuts to Media’s Canadian tape release. When Catch Dog (Daniel Stephen), attempts to rape to Maida (Sabrina Siani), one of the few remaining survivors, he is subsequently banished from the group, but soon thereafter, Nisus joins Maida in a remote colony, a large industrial location that is ostensibly the site of a new source of energy. Years later, the workaday equanimity of Nisus is shattered when the New Order, led by a tyrannical, Nazi-like leader calling himself the Black One (Donal O’Brien), overrun this once peaceful community. 

 

Continuing their abstractly systematic upholding of the law, the remaining Rangers now led by Halakron (Peter Hooten) come across Maida at a local watering hole (which includes video games, pinball machines, and sloppy joes on the menu) where she has been sold to an unscrupulous gambler who likes to play Russian roulette. Winning her back, Halakron does everything in his power to keep her out of harm’s way, even as they team up with a group of Native Americans (“We don’t trust white men!”), which precipitates the violent – and wonderfully schlocky – finale with the New Order.

 

Ignoring the film’s obvious imitative streak, 2020 TEXAS GLADIATORS is nonetheless capably enough constructed (ignoring of course the hilariously misspelled “Exsplosive” signposts!), and like the westerns it so gleefully emulates, takes full advantage of the deserted quarries outside of Rome, which serve as the perfect – and economical – backdrop for this Mad Max wannabe. Bolstered by Montefiori’s swift directorial style, the film’s tight budget still manages to cram in sufficient action for at least two lesser post-nuke films, which includes a sloppily-choreographed barroom brawl, freefall dirtbike stunts, car chases, several squib-popping shootouts, and a scantily-clad, shotgun-toting Sabrina Siani. As the New Order’s leader, genre-fave Donal O’Brien, chews more scenery than he did in Marino Girolami’s celebrated gore epic DOCTOR BUTCHER M.D. (a.k.a. ZOMBI HOLOCAUST, 1980), and is easily one of the film’s many highlights. Alongside Hooten, minor-league action stars Harrison Muller and Japanese-born Hal Yamanouchi, (both of whom went on to appear in other post-apocalyptic films such as Romolo Guerrieri’s THE FINAL EXECUTIONER [1984] and Sergio Martino’s2019: AFTER THE FALL OF NEW YORK [1983], respectively), fittingly round-out this briskly-paced bit of enjoyable hokum. And don’t forget to be on the lookout for Geretta Geretta who unexpectedly pops up as an ass-kicking New Order punk!

 

For its North American UHD and BD debut, Severin Films made use of a brand new 4K scan taken from the film’s original negative and the results are exceptional, especially given the film’s low-budget pedigree. Apart from a few instances of softness inherent in the some of the camerawork, everything is clean, crisp and colourful, and a huge improvement over the German New Entertainment DVD from 2009, which was not only edited, but fullscreen as well. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono audio tracks in English and Italian (the latter with English subtitles) also sound excellent with plenty of nice aggression during the film’s many action scenes, which is nicely backed up by Carlo Maria Cordio’s (here credited as Francis Taylor) pulsating synth score. English subtitles for the hard of hearing are also included.

 

The extra features on Severin’s disc begin with Manlio Gomarasca’s Shoot Me: The Real Story of the Italian Texas Gladiators (16m59s), a terrific featurette, which recounts the making of this troubled production with input from assistant director Michele Soavi (who worked extensively with Massaccesi in between his time working alongside Dario Argento), Luigi Montefiori, Al Cliver (a.k.a. Pier Luigi Conti), and Aristide Massaccesi. In it, they discuss “mimicking hit movies”, Montefiori’s “weaknesses as a director” and his “love/hate relationship” with Massaccesi, but Montefiori also admits “it was fun because it was such bullshit!” It’s great piece, which finally sheds some light on the true ownership of this film. In Gladiator Geretta (10m33), actor Geretta Geretta discusses her time working in Italy and her many memorable roles, and how refreshing it was to be cast as the “tough black one” instead of a “hooker with a heart of gold” or a “gang member.” She also talks warmly of Soavi, who directed most of her scenes in the film and was happy to reunite with him on Lamberto Bava’s DEMONS (1986). The film’s theatrical trailer (2m55s), which is scored with Franco Micalizzi’s title theme from Umberto Lenzi’s THE CYNIC, THE RAT AND THE FIST (1977), finish off the extras. And for those who order directly from the Severin Films webstore, the limited edition also includes the film’s complete and never-before-released CD soundtrack (20 tracks, 48m30s), as well as a reversible wrap, and a slipcover. 

 

Whichever edition you choose, you’re sure to be pleased with Severin Films’ superb UHD/BD combo of this diverting and outrageously colourful post-nuke film, which would be perfectly complimented by a party-size pizza and a six-pack of beers.

TRHAUMA - DVD REVIEW

Although labeled in many genre reference books as a giallo, Gianni Martucci’s TRHAUMA has more similarities to the then popular stalk-and-slash craze, which, thanks to the enormous popularity of John Carpenter’s HALLOWEEN (1978), dominated box office receipts at the time.  If it’s not glaringly obvious by the misspelled title card, TRHAUMA is pretty much the rock-bottom of the genre, albeit with a few odd touches and sleazy characteristics to keep it mildly entertaining.

A disheveled man (Per Holgher – credited as L’Essere / “The Being”) with a disfigured blind eye roams the crypts of a large Italian villa, who, in his spare time, is also constructing a large toy castle made entirely of children’s building blocks.  As he secretly works away, a wailing cat in the background is soon ‘hushed-up’ when he removes its head with a large sickle – but don’t worry, folks, it’s all very unconvincingly done.  In the meantime, a group of well-to-do socialites – including a photographer named Paul (Timothy Wood), his model Olga (Anna Maria Chiatante), a wealthy industrialist (Franco Diogene) and his newest secretary (Gina Mancinelli), and also Carlo and Silvia (Roberto Posse and Silvia Mauri), an unhappily married couple – are all visiting Andrea (“Ronny Russ” / aka Gaetano Russo)’s sizable country estate. But for reasons unknown, this house seems to be a thorn in the side of his wife Lilly (“Dafne Price” / aka Domitilla Cavazza), and as night falls, everyone becomes the target of the aforementioned resident madman, but who is that mysterious figure taunting him with new boxes of building blocks…?

 

As unusual as the above premise sounds, the set-up is about as simplistic as it gets, and the second half is simply one extended stalking sequence à la HALLOWEEN (at one point, our heroine even stabs her attacker in the eye with an arrow!), but without any of that film’s expertly-handled misc en scène and suspense.  Like any low-budget slasher film, characters simply gather together to more conveniently get bumped-off, but Martucci’s film also contains unavoidable gialli elements including an especially unpleasant group of people with plenty of dirty secrets and hidden agendas. At one point, Paul blackmails Silvia with compromising photos of her taken while she was having a lesbian tryst with Olga, while Andrea is probably the most pathetic of the group: a degenerate gambler who is obviously financially supported by his wife (“You’re crazy if you think I’ll continue to finance your megalomania!” exclaims Lilly).  

 

Characterization is certainly not the film’s main impetus with most of the ‘stars’ appearing tired and bored, although Holgher seems to relish his part as the mute killer. In one of the film’s most unexpected scenes, his character has his evil way with Olga’s corpse in an open field, which seems to have strayed in from a completely different film. During TRHAUMA’s extended finale – which is also an obvious nod to Italian Gothics – Lilly is pursued by “The Being” as she endlessly runs through the dark villa in her negligee, all of which adds up to a rather formula pic without much of a personal touch. 

 

Director Martucci only directed a grand total of five films, which also included the entertaining and highly exploitable poliziesco BLAZING FLOWERS (1978) with George Hilton and Marc Porel, and THE RED MONKS (1988), a relatively bland horror cheapie (again with Russo) put together during the fading days of Italo-horror, which gained some unexpected popularity due to the controversial – and confusing – “Lucio Fulci presents” moniker it got saddled with. As for TRHAUMA, it’s inconceivable to think that it took fully three writers (namely Alessandro Capone, director Martucci and star Russo) to slap this story together, and outside of a few fitful spurts of gore and plentiful nudity, most viewers will probably find TRHAUMA pretty dull. 

 

Even during the VHS days, this obscurity was never circulated in an English-friendly version, and despite being released in Italy, French Canada, and even Korea, both the French Canadian (released by Les Plaisirs Vidéo as DÉMENCE) and Korean VHS tape (in Italian with Korean subtitles) featured edited versions of the film. Gone was the film’s entire pre-credit sequence and the brief but rather startling scene of necrophilia, which totaled just over four-and-a-half minutes of footage. Thankfully, CG Entertainment’s Italian DVD from 2009 features the uncut version, and unlike the overly dark and murky VHS tapes, CG’s DVD is a vast improvement in every way, which is significantly sharper, brighter, and more colourful, allowing those more adventurous viewers to better appreciate this sleazy little thriller. Incidentally, the credit sequence on the DVD unfolds over a plain black background unlike the earlier VHS tapes, which open with kaleidoscopic brush-strokes, adding extra fuel to Ubaldo Continiello’s disco-infused score (“Come on, dance…”), which also includes several lengthy excerpts from his earlier work on Ruggero Deodato’s The LAST CANNIBAL WORLD (a.k.a. JUNGLE HOLOCAUST, 1977). Unfortunately, their disc only features an Italian Dolby Digital 2.0 audio track with Italian subtitles for the hard of hearing, and brief Italian biographies (remember those?) for director Martucci, and actors Gaetano Russo and Roberto Posse. 

 

Despite its humbler origins and flimsy plot devices, those even slightly entertained by the trashier gialli movies of the ’70s may find sporadic entertainment value here. 

THE LAST HAREM - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Adapted from his own novel of the same name, Alberto Vázquez Figueroa’s writings also provided the basis for several pictures including Antonio Isasi’s A DOG CALLED… VENGEANCE (1977), Richard Fleischer’s ASHANTI (1979), and Enzo G. Castellari’s TUAREG THE DESERT WARRIOR (1984), to name but a few. Undoubtedly one of the more obscure films based on Figueroa’s work, Sergio Garrone’s THE LAST HAREM (1981) boasts ex-James Bond star George Lazenby and the always magnetic Corinne Cléry under the direction of a man better known to Euro exploitation fans for helming economical spaghetti westerns, and a pair of outrageous Naziploitation pictures. Although on the slow-moving side, the film’s interesting giallo-styled framework not only features an attractive cast, but also re-emphasizes Figueroa’s love of adventure, exotic locales, and far-off cultures. 

Bookended by a rather nondescript TV program (akin to a no-budget version of Robin Leach’s Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous television show, 1984-1995), which, in typical cost-cutting fashion, handily provides the necessary background information on the film’s title character, Prince Almalarik (George Lazenby). According to our enthusiastic hosts (played by busy English voice talent actors Larry Dolgin and Pat Starke), this “Arab potentate” is perhaps best known for his “clever manipulations” in the world of international finance, but they also jokingly refer to him as the “Arabian Don Juan” and a “big swinger among the jet-set society.” Despite Almalarik’s protestations that he is a “good Arab”, his uncle (an uncredited Gérard Tichy) and current King of this unspecified middle-eastern country, is displeased at all the unwanted attention his nephew receives in the press, especially in regards to his harem. When Almalarik finds his newest and favourite wife Sara (Cléry) murdered, suspicions fall on the other wives, which heralds the start of a plot to reveal the killer, complete with out-of-sequence flashbacks and enough red herrings to fill three giallo murder thrillers. 

 

An odd, languorously paced film, this is quite a departure for director Garrone, who eschews the grittier coarseness of his earlier pictures in favour of a glossy, stylized sheen more in common with Italian sex pics and erotic thrillers of a decade later. Highlighted by an impressive roster of Eurocult regulars (which also includes Mirta Miller, Daniela Poggi, María Kosty, Ursula Buchfellner, Adriana Vega, and uncredited bit parts from Marina Frajese and Aldo Sambrell), who are brimming with bitterness, jealousies, and lots of suspicious glances, THE LAST HAREM attempts to propel its narrative on careful plot and dialogue (“Life in the harem is only good for the sheik!”), which strives to fabricate psychological rationale for most of the characters’ behaviour, but unfortunately, none of it generates the necessary – and much-needed – tension. Elsewhere too, Garrone’s directorial control is not so much leisurely as utterly indifferent, even when occasionally enlivened by frequent nudity and some nice location shooting in the deserts of Almería, which double for the middle-east. 

 

Having first gained recognition in Just Jaeckin’s S&M melodrama THE STORY OF O (1975), Corinne Cléry is ideally cast in the role of Sara, Prince Almalarik’s newest conquest. Even though she is regarded as nothing more than a personal possession, her character still radiates ample sensuality and confidence (“She was the mistress of everything and everyone!”), which she uses to her benefit as she cleverly insinuates herself into Almalarik’s flared slacks. Portraying Lazenby’s first onscreen wife, the sultry Mirta Miller (also seen in more than a few Spanish horror films such as Javier Aguirre’s COUNT DRACULA’S GREAT LOVE [1973]) whose dark eyes shimmer like luminous moonlit pools, also puts in an affecting performance and is among the film’s more believable characters. Having previously appeared in Aldo Lado’s superb giallo WHO SAW HER DIE? (1972), Lazenby returns to Italy for some fast pasta money in what turns out to be one of his most obscure roles. Ruling with an iron-fist couched inside a velvet glove, Lazenby commits himself to the role of the self-centered prince who eventually drives home the script’s token messages – and recurrent motifs in most of Figueroa’s work - of greed and forgiveness.

 

Currently unavailable on North American disc, THE LAST HAREM was released on Japanese Blu-ray in 2024 through Anec, and even though no source is listed on the packaging, their “HD remaster” herein is excellent, which features solid black levels, fairly bold colours, and lots of appropriately warm flesh tones, which look especially pleasing in many of the film’s languid, slow-motion sex scenes. Also, unlike the earlier Japanese VHS videocassette from Tokuma, which blurred all below-the-waist nudity, Anec’s new Blu-ray is completely uncensored. Given the film’s customary post-dubbing (Lazenby’s lines were provided by English voice artist Robert Sommer), the LPCM English 1.0 mono audio also sounds fine, and draws attention to Stelvio Cipriani’s laid-back score, which perfectly encapsulates the film’s often pensive atmosphere.  The only extra included on Anec’s disc is the film’s English-language export trailer (2m47s), which includes a few snippets of footage and alternate takes not seen in the finished film.

 

Although most viewers may find themselves lulled to sleep by its surplus of talky drama, THE LAST HAREM is ultimately salvaged by the film’s good-looking cast and abundant nudity, and shall forever remain an interesting, if flawed, blip in the eccentric career of George Lazenby. Order the Blu-ray from Amazon Japan. 

THE CASE OF THE BLOODY IRIS - UHD REVIEW

After appearing together in Sergio Martino’s THE STRANGE VICE OF MRS. WARDH (1971) and ALL THE COLORS OF THE DARK (1972), the riveting tandem of Edwige Fenech and George Hilton returned in THE CASE OF THE BLOODY IRIS (1972), another first-rate giallo written by genre luminary Ernesto Gastaldi. Although once more produced by Sergio’s brother Luciano Martino (who was also married to Fenech at the time), the directing chores were this time handed over to “Anthony Ascott”/Giuliano Carnimeo, who had previously collaborated with George Hilton on numerous upmarket spaghetti westerns. Easily ranking with the very best of its kind, Carnimeo’s classic whodunit now makes its worldwide 4KUHD debut in a stunning new edition thanks to newcomer Celluloid Dreams. 

Following the murder of two women in quick succession at a high-rise apartment block, Andrea (George Hilton), the building’s owner and architect, rents one of the victims’ apartment to Jennifer Lansbury (Edwige Fenech), a visiting English model living in Italy (the city is never named, but the film was shot in Genoa) who promptly moves in with her friend and fellow model Marilyn (Paola Quattrini). However, their good fortune soon takes a turn for the worse as more murders continue, and they too, get caught up with the buildings’ tangle of characters including signora Moss (an uncredited Maria Tedeschi) an elderly war widow who enjoys reading “blood and gore” horror comics, a reclusive lesbian (Annabella Incontrera) living with her father (Jorge Rigaud), and Jennifer’s possessive ex-husband (Ben Carrà), who had a “mania for group sex.” And even Andrea is subsequently caught up in the investigation’s impersonal machinations as detective Enci (Giampiero Albertini) must wade through a maze of false leads, tons of red herrings and several potentially vital clues, including a bloody iris…

 

As can perhaps be deduced from the busy if slender plot synopsis given above, THE CASE OF THE BLOODY IRIS is akin to an Italian adults-only horror comic come to life whose strong audiovisual components (including a magnificent easy-listening score from maestro Bruno Nicolai) immediately draw the viewer into its decidedly intricate web. Right from the get-go, the film’s opening murder of a young woman (Evi Farinelli) in an elevator sets the appropriate tone and offers all the expected stylistic flourishes, sadistic violence, and convolutions of a typical giallo. However, Gastaldi’s witty script (which borders as a kind of self-reflexive critique of the genre), for which every character involved has got a dirty secret, keeps Albertini’s detective and onscreen aide Renzi (Franco Agostini) very busy interrogating all the potential suspects, a fact which later justifies Renzi’s exclamation elsewhere in the film, “We live in a degenerate age, commissioner!” Naturally, the film doesn’t skimp in the skin department either: a fashion shoot introduces Fenech’s character in nothing more than body paint (which causes a double-take for both Hilton’s character and the viewer), while her photographer friend (Oreste Lionello) insists on always having a “nude in there somewhere,” a sly bit of commentary on the usual stereotypes of this influential genre. Highlighted by several impressive set-pieces (including a dazzling flashback sequence involving the titular irises) and some vicious murders, the overall mood of the picture is generally playful and pleasant to watch thanks to Carnimeo’s spot-on direction, Stelvio Massi’s vigorous camerawork, and Eugenio Alabiso’s kinetic cutting, which keep the narrative barreling unstoppably along right up to the effective – yet amusing – twisteroo ending. 

 

Prior to the digital age, the only way to see this film for North American viewers - other than crummy bootlegs – was General Video Recording’s long out-of-print Italian VHS videocassette. Released under its colourful, but somewhat misleading Italian title, PERCHÉ QUELLE STRANE GOCCE DI SANGUE SUL CORPO DI JENNIFER?, this VHS tape was available at some ethnic Italian video stores, but was definitely one of the more difficult-to-find titles from GVR’s large catalogue. First released on DVD in 2002 by Anchor Bay (as part of their 4-disc Giallo Collection box set), this edition was a real godsend for fans of the film, which not only saw the worldwide home video debut of the English-language version, but also presented the film in its intended 2.35:1 aspect ratio (the Italian VHS tapes were cropped at 1.85:1). Subsequent DVDs soon followed around the world including a re-release from Blue Underground in 2008. Ten years later, a Region B Blu-ray was issued in the UK via Shameless Screen Entertainment with a new 2K restoration, which greatly improved the image, and included some much-needed colour correction that finally mellowed out all those blown-out whites from AB’s otherwise excellent DVD. As with the transfer, the LPCM 2.0 mono audio, in both English and Italian (the latter with English subtitles), was also clean without any discernible issues. Shameless also included a couple of excellent on-camera interviews beginning with actor George Hilton in Drops of Blood (20m43s) in which he talks about his start in the Italian film industry after moving from Argentina, his numerous spaghetti western roles, his life-long friendship with Edwige Fenech and Luciano Martino, and how he “wanted a change of scene”, which eventually led to Romolo Guerrieri’s THE SWEET BODY OF DEBORAH (1968), his first role in a giallo. In Marilyn (11m51s), theatre actor Paola Quattrini is very enthusiastic - and a little surprised - discussing the film, but she recalls the “joyful atmosphere” on set, yet she never felt entirely comfortable in the front of the cameras. She also goes on to talk about her many co-stars including Edwige Fenech who was “in a moment of great fame” at the time.

 

Moving forward, Celluloid Dreams’ inaugural 4KUHD/BD combo of this very enjoyable giallo (which was taken from the film’s original camera negative) is nothing short of phenomenal. Outside of one brief scene of irreparable damage around the 14m mark (which was also present on Shameless’ disc), the transfer is pristine with very pleasing grain structure, superb detail, deep blacks, and beautifully rendered colour schemes, which are ably supported by HDR on the UHD. The DTS-HD MA 1.0 mono audio tracks in English and Italian (again with optional English subtitles) both sound excellent with Nicolai’s memorable score adding plenty of flavour and tension. As always, the English audio includes many familiar voice talent actors such as Ted Rusoff, Carolyn De Fonseca, Edmund Purdom, and Tony La Penna, but purists are advised to stick to the Italian-language version, which lends the film a patina of class missing from the clunkier – but still enjoyable - English audio. 

 

Beginning with a newly-recorded audio commentary with CD’s Guido Henkel, he provides plenty of detailed info and well-researched insight into the film, which includes the production’s “spur of the moment” location shooting (it was shot in Genoa, Rome and Elios Studios in Rome), the stunning opening murder sequence and the “Brian De Palma connection”, the “show don’t tell” tenet of Gastaldi’s writing who “breathed life into a relatively straightforward story”, Carnimeo’s staging and camerawork and the “depth and shadow play” of Massi’s photography, the excellent “colour-matched” production design, the various cast members, the minimalist sound design of Italian films at the time, and some of the film’s technical aspects including the cost-effective Techniscope framing and its inherent drawbacks, and plenty more besides. It’s an engrossing listen, and a very strong audio commentary debut for Mr. Henkel, which adds a greater depth of appreciation to this already excellent film. In Drops of Giallo (29m26s), a new on-camera interview with Ernesto Gastaldi (with some added input from the late Giuliano Carnimeo), Gastaldi talks about his start in the industry as an assistant to director Giorgio Simonelli, his life-long relationship with Carnimeo (they met at film school in 1955), the many western pictures and comedies Carnimeo directed (Carnimeo's last film turned out to be the enjoyably trashy RAT MAN [1988]), his writing process, the high demands during the giallo craze of the early ’70s (“The phone was ringing off the hook with people asking me to write another, and another, and another story!”), the “element of ambiguity” in the pictures, and his thoughts on the film itself. In a nice gesture, CD have also included both the aforementioned Drops of Blood and Marilyn featurettes from Shameless’ earlier release alongside a new outtake reel consisting of “excess trims from the original 2-perf negatives” (1m43s), a thorough image gallery (5m16s), which even includes stills and posters from the film’s UK theatrical release as EROTIC BLUE, and the Italian and English trailers (both 2m54s). If ordered through the CD website, a nice slipcover is also included along with a set of six 12” x 8.25” high-quality re-productions of the Italian lobby cards.

 

An easy buy for fans and newcomers alike, Celluloid Dreams’ debut release is a real knockout which comes highly recommended!

SEX APOCALYPSE - BLU-RAY REVIEW

In 1975, following the death of Spanish dictator Generalissimo Francisco Franco, and decades of accumulated repression, several Spanish filmmakers took advantage of this newfound liberation and embarked on a succession of modest, intensely sexual programmers. Incorporating large doses of sex and/or violence into their sleazed-out, pulpy scenarios, this freedom from censorship or “legal vacuum” eventually led to the introduction of the “S” classification, a new rating that warned of a possible “offence to the viewers’ sensibility.” In Alain Petit’s indispensable tome Jess Franco: ou les prospéritiés de bis (Artus Livres, 2015), author Petit discusses this prolific period in his review for Franco’s MACUMBA SEXUAL (1982) as “rich and interesting” and “a period during which Jess had free reins and wasn’t under the stranglehold of producers and censors alike – a sort of Golden Age.” With small budgets, faster-than-normal shooting schedules and quick turnarounds, several producers, directors and actors were not only earning a comfortable living for the next few years (the legalization of hardcore pornography in 1983 pretty much ended this creatively fertile period), but were honing their filmmaking skills as well. Director, screenwriter, and actor Ricard Reguant (interviewed elsewhere on this disc) likewise commented on this trend: “It was a time of great apprenticeship”, but also cheekily admits, “It was all a bit sleazy.” Well, more nadirs of human behaviour are plumbed in Carlos Aured’s SEX APOCALYPSE (1982) than in any number of Spanish cult films, and by virtue of its look and overall tone, this may be the quintessential example of a “S Clasificada” film. 

 

Upon securing a large unused villa, Clark (Ricardo Díaz) and his band of enterprising criminals (which also includes Ajita Wilson and Jess Franco’s wife and muse Lina Romay) hope to obtain a one-million-dollar ransom after abducting the daughter (Katy Ballari) of a wealthy businessman. As they wait to coordinate an exchange, this highly oversexed gang of opportunists can’t wait to shatter their hostage’s “sheltered, genteel upbringing” and turn her into the “most depraved slut in town.” But in a sudden turn of events, the young woman begins to fall for Clark (an obvious nod to the real-life Patty Hearst case, even if, the opening film-noir-styled narration compares the events to the Manson murders), which raises the already simmering tensions among this close-knit group to boiling point…

 

Peppered with various nuggets of existentialist, porno-fueled dialogue (“We’re evil, depraved daughters of life!”) and plenty of idealistic – yet frequently lopsided - social commentary (“We have nothing against you. We’re only against the respectable members of the vile, corrupt society you belong to!”), Clark seems determined to overturn society’s status quo, but his morose countenance gives the impression of someone that has given up the fight. Finding solace in the arms (and thighs) of his captive, much of the narrative concerns itself with psychological stress and a transferral of loyalties within the gang, and this central idea of two ‘enemies’ drawing closer to each other is an interesting one, but everyone is so unlikeable, you can’t even root for its supposedly sympathetic characters. Ultimately, the film exists solely for sexual titillation, so don’t expect any positive messages or niceties (the film’s mandatory moralistic coda is laughable) cause you won’t find them here. However, Aured serves everything up with such scuzzy, unapologetic gusto, that it keeps you watching. It’s utter depravity that we’re here for, and that’s what we get!

 

For anyone that has suffered through Video Search of Miami’s smeary, decades-old VHS of this outrageous sexploitationer will be absolutely gobsmacked at the clarity and picture-perfect presentation of Mondo Macabro’s Blu-ray. Disc one features the film’s preferred Spanish cut from a “brand new 2K restoration of the “S” rated version of the film from the original negative,” which looks exceptional with rich, nicely-balanced colours, and razor-sharp detail ensuring you’ll see every bead of sweat on all the writhing body parts. The DTS-HD MA 2.0 Spanish mono audio track with optional English subtitles also sounds very good, even if, much of the ‘action’ comes from the film’s canned soundtrack, which is rife with raucous guitars, synthesizers, and plenty of horn sections. 

 

The plentiful extras begin with a much-welcome and informative audio commentary from author Troy Howarth and Mondo Digital’s Nathaniel Thompson, who provide the necessary context related to “S” films, and some of the similarities to US made roughies (an exploitation genre that also mixed sex and violence in a controversial manner), which eventually “filtered into European productions.” They also refer to this film as a “chamber piece” with a cast of “eurosex all stars of the early ’80s”, which leads into an enthusiastic discussion about Romay’s prolific career, her uninhibited nature, how she went into a “different dimension on camera”, the “insanely photogenic pairing of Wilson and Romay”, and several of Wilson’s other sexploitation films she made throughout Europe. Of course, they also discuss director Carlos Aured and the “short but brilliant run of horror films he made with Paul Naschy”, which for the record, include HORROR RISES FROM THE TOMB (1972), CURSE OF THE DEVIL (1973), BLUE EYES OF THE BROKEN DOLL (1974), and THE MUMMY’S REVENGE (1975). Given the different versions that have circulated on home video, they also talk about the alternate hardcore variants of popular Eurocult films and some of the directors that ventured into this still-controversial area including Jess Franco, Joe D’Amato, Jean Rollin, and even modern-day auteurs such as Lars Von Trier and Gaspar Noé. As a nice bonus, MM’s 2-disc limited edition also includes a whopping 106m hardcore version [!], which has been compiled using various VHS sources, and while it’s great to see all the differences, the sheer padding of the extended sex scenes and close-ups of people’s nether regions become tiresome very quickly. Unlike the long-drawn-out hardcore version, Howarth’s and Thompson’s commentary is a fast-paced, enjoyable listen, which comes highly recommended!

 

The other extras on MM’s disc are no less significant and include Richard Vogue – The History of “S” Cinema (45m42s), an on-camera interview with the aforementioned Ricard Reguant who provides a very thorough history of these sex-filled extravaganzas (and their eventual decline) including his time working with trailblazing “S” directors Enrique Guevara and Ignacio F. Iquino (“Everything was a disaster with him!”) and how they managed to develop a “formula to deceive audiences.” He also has plenty of amusing anecdotes about director Andrea Bianchi (“He was a somewhat difficult person.”), director Guevara, and the tireless Italian hardcore actress Marina Frajese. In Carlos Aured Cinema as Survival (30m45s), Aured biographer Miguel Ángel Plana is interviewed via zoom wherein he talks about Aured’s early love of films, how he worked his way up in the industry, and how he landed on one of veteran director León Klimovsky’s crews. He also discusses Aured’s long-standing relationship with Paul Naschy, and the quartet of horror films they made together, the Sadean aspects of SEX APOCALYPSE and how much it borrows from Klimovsky’s earlier SECUESTRO (1976), which also starred Paul Naschy. Lastly, the limited edition set also contains a fantastic 20-page booklet with an excellent – and very detailed - essay from Spanish film critic Ismael Fernandez, which sheds even more light on the film, and the entire “S” film genre. 

 

Oozing sheer, undiluted sleaze, Carlos Aured’s SEX APOCALYPSE is certainly not for all tastes, but Mondo Macabro’s pristine Blu-ray easily ranks alongside some of the label’s most unforgettable and eye-opening releases to date! Order it from Mondo Macabro’s big cartel site.