A CAT IN THE BRAIN - BLU-RAY REVIEW

In the same general period as the Italian film industry was imploding in on itself due to a lack of budgets and enthusiasm, director Lucio Fulci decided to try something different: a self-reflexive look back over the latter part of his career as a famed horror director.  While the end results have divided even some of his most hardened fans, Fulci’s A CAT IN THE BRAIN (1990) is certainly a novel concept – in terms of Italian horror films, at least – plus, taking his Hitchcockian cameos to the next level, Fulci casts himself in the lead role as a tormented director who is beginning to blur the line between his excessively gory filmic output and everyday reality.

Sometimes referred to as “Dr. Fulci”, first seen is his now trademark woolen cap and matching hunter’s lumber-jacket, he is suffering from terrible hallucinations (“a woman hacked to death with an axe”) that, according to him, feels akin to a ‘cat in his brain’, which is hilariously depicted by a ferocious feline – an obvious hand-puppet – ripping apart the inside of his grey matter.  Sandwiched between numerous gore scenes from late-entry Italian splatter flicks – including many of his own – Fulci’s violent hallucinations are very easily triggered, even as he performs the most mundane of daily activities, so he seeks the help of psychiatrist Egon Swharz (David L. Thompson) to help quell his ever-increasing loss of reality.  Unfortunately for Fulci, his psychiatrist merely uses him as a pawn to continue indulging in his very own – and very real – murder spree.

Directed a year after his much-touted, but decidedly meager, ‘comeback’ film DEMONIA (1989), Fulci decided to really let loose and try something entirely different, and while this is yet another very low-budget effort, it’s considerably more memorable and even – gasp! – rather audacious for the once-fiery director.  Like Fulci himself, by the end of the film, most people will also be tired (or bored?) by the seemingly unending stream of gore and realize it’s closer in spirit to a comedy than a horror film.  Even much of the ‘borrowed” footage consists of Fulci’s TOUCH OF DEATH (1988), a darkly comic, and equally gory, look at a modern-day Bluebeard as portrayed by Brett Halsey, who, in A CAT IN THE BRAIN, is merely credited as “the monster.”  In actuality, much of this footage plays quite well alongside A CAT IN THE BRAIN’s original material as Fulci becomes paranoid of eating steak tartar, a man chopping wood, a microwave oven, or even a young girl in wheelchair, scenes which are always punctuated by some sort of splattery nightmare. However, as the film progresses, the gimmick does begin to wear-out its welcome, which may well have been Fulci’s original intent; to try and smother the viewer with as much gore as possible until it no longer resonates and leaves viewers inured to its effects from simple repetition.  It’s a fitting close to one of Fulci’s most popular periods in his 40+-year career.

Despite the heaping amounts of squishy gore on display, it’s left up to the cast to inject any real substance into this “Fulci’s Greatest Hits” package, and aside from the novelty of Fulci as the lead (adequately dubbed in the English version by Larry Dolgin), most of the cast is only amateurish at best.  As the psychotic shrink, Thompson doesn’t exhibit any acting range whatsoever, and comes across almost like a caricature of all those ’70s gialli killers.  On the other hand, it’s always nice to see Malisa Longo (credited here as Melissa Lang), star of countless ’70s Italian ‘sexy’ films, who here appears as the bitchy, unfulfilled psychiatrist’s wife and meets a particularly nasty end.   

A popular title among Grindhouse Releasing’s catalogue since the laserdisc days, A CAT IN THE BRAIN first appeared on DVD in 2006 as a 2-disc Special Edition (the initial batch even had a nifty lenticular cover), which was loaded with extras, but if you’ve never seen this film or are possibly considering an upgrade, then Grindhouse’s newest 3-disc set, which houses 2 Blu-rays and one soundtrack CD of the complete 15-track Fabio Frizzi score, is yet another incredible set well worthy of the double-dip.  Due to the film’s low-budget origins, A CAT IN THE BRAIN would never be considered demo material, but the team at Grindhouse have, as per their usual standards, created yet another small miracle with their latest Blu-ray; it’s hard to imagine it looking any better than it does here. 

Presented in its customary English language version as NIGHTMARE CONCERT (the film’s alternate English language export title), Grindhouse have also provided the Italian language track with removable English subtitles.  All the extras from the earlier DVD are reinstated, including “Genre Terrorist” and “The Television Years”, a massive two-part interview with the late director.  Further interviews with Halsey, Longo, Sacha Maria Darwin and Joffrey Kennedy are also included alongside new interviews with director of photography Sandro Grossi, composer Frizzi, co-writer Antonio Tentori and poster artist Enzo Sciotti.  More extras include hidden Easter eggs, the obligatory Grindhouse trailers – and even a few for some of Fulci’s rarer films, which are located in the filmography section of the disc – and poster galleries.  An excellent booklet with essays from Antonella Fulci, Eli Roth, David J. Schow and Martin Beine, who gives a great rundown of the ALL the borrowed footage that appears throughout the film, is also included.  Lastly, the first 3000 units come with a portrait of Fulci, which is supplied as a thick insert card. 

Definitely not for everyone, Grindhouse has nonetheless put together another incredible, praiseworthy Blu-ray, which continues their impeccably high standards.  An absolute must-have for any Fulci fan!  Order it from DiabolikDVD. 

JUST DESSERTS - THE MAKING OF CREEPSHOW - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Produced through his prolific Red Shirt Pictures, director Michael Felsher has enhanced many a DVD and Blu-ray over the years with his numerous documentaries and special features, but JUST DESSERTS, in my humble opinion, is his magnum opus, a beautifully-constructed and fascinating look into the making of George A. Romero’s CREEPSHOW (1982), the much-beloved – and rightfully so – ’80s horror classic.  Originally conceived for Universal’s 2-disc, U.K.-only DVD released in 2007, this documentary, unfortunately, never made it to the domestic DVD or Blu-ray, but because Universal owned the rights to CREEPSHOW solely in the U.K., this caveat enabled Felsher to retain the rights for the rest of the world.  Thankfully, in conjunction with the good folks at Synapse Films, he has decided to release this magnificent doc as an extras-stuffed, stand-alone Blu-ray, which, even if you own either the 2-disc DVD or the more recent U.K. Blu-ray from Second Sight, Synapse’s Blu-ray contains numerous extra goodies to warrant a double-dip.  

Much like the film it celebrates, JUST DESSERTS unfolds like an anthology, with various chapters dedicated to film’s development and production, and in “The Monster Man”, an entire chapter is devoted to Tom Savini’s incredible special makeup effects.  In the first chapter, cheekily entitled “An E.C. Way to Start”, Romero talks about the influence of the now-infamous E.C. horror comics from the ’50s, as well as the film’s initial conception, including Romero’s first meeting with Stephen King to discuss the possible filming of King’s novel Salem’s Lot.  At the time, both he and King, along with Richard P. Rubenstein – Romero’s producing partner and co-owner of Laurel Entertainment – were considering developing King’s epic novel The Stand as a major motion picture, but they didn’t have the necessary budget, or (quote) “clout”, so the idea was abandoned. They were thankfully doggedly determined to work together, however.  Their love for E.C. Comics became the genesis of CREEPSHOW and, as promised, 60 days later, Stephen King delivered his screenplay to Rubenstein. 

Some of the other chapters herein include: “Acting Scared”, “A Comic Book World”, “Creepy Crawlies”, “Anthology Unleashed” and “25 Years Later”, which cover virtually every facet of the film’s production, reception and ongoing popularity, and which are peppered with superb interviews from the likes of Romero, Rubenstein, Savini, composer and assistant director John Harrison, editor Pasquale Buba, artist Bernie Wrightson, plus ones with cast members Ed Harris, Adrienne Barbeau, Tom Atkins, and many others besides.  Of course, Romero and Savini dominate the bulk of the screen time, and as the documentary unfolds, we see that Romero and his crew were, quite obviously, consummate professionals, yet at the same time they were obviously excited to be working with such a stellar cast; even Romero himself at one point expresses his (quote) “intimidation” about working with some of these seasoned Hollywood veterans – including Hal Holbrook, Fritz Weaver and E.G. Marshall – while Savini relates a story about his admiration for star Vivica Lindfors and her role as Queen Margaret in Vincent Sherman’s Errol Flynn vehicle The ADVENTURES OF DON JUAN (1948). But, still more importantly, JUST DESSERTS captures a sense of the incomparable camaraderie felt by participants throughout the shoot, which seems almost impossible to recreate in these hectic and increasingly profit-driven days; as Romero calmly states at one point, “It was a wonderful experience.”  Interspersed throughout the interviews are tons of excellent, rarely seen behind-the-scenes photos and on-set video footage courtesy of Savini, and, thanks to John Harrison, it’s all scored with his highly compelling and memorable CREEPSHOW score, an absolutely inseparable blend of piano and synth, which is just as effective today as it was 34 years ago.

Nothing but praise should be given to Synapse and their remarkable Blu-ray, which is absolutely filled-to-the-brim with extra features, including two separate commentary tracks.  The first commentary features Felsher discussing his overall career, beginning at Anchor Bay, and then covers the logistical complexities of putting together this doc.  The second commentary brings together John Amplas (who played the rotting zombie Nathan Grantham in the “Father’s Day” episode, as well as the title character of Romero’s own MARTIN [1977]), property master Bruce Alan Miller and special makeup effects assistant Darryl Ferrucci, none of whom were available for comment during the actual filming of JUST DESSERTS, so it’s always interesting to hear even more anecdotes related to the filming.  Speaking of which, in “Creepshow Days”, one of the many other extras included on the disc, director of photography Michael Gornick also gets his say on the nature of the production.  Other extras include extended interviews with Romero, Savini and Wrightson; “Horror’s Hallowed Grounds”, with host Sean Clark, follows Clark as he conducts a guided tour of the many Pennsylvanian locations, and we also get a 1982 Evening Magazine segment shot on the set of the film.  However, the real icing on the cake, and one of this generous package’s most significant extras, is SCREAM GREATS VOLUME 1 – TOM SAVINI, a Fangoria-produced documentary from 1986, which has been absent on U.S. home video for far too long.  But even that isn’t all we get! As an extra added bonus, this documentary also features an additional audio commentary with Felsher and Savini. 

Beautifully packaged, including a cool rendition of Paul R. Gagne’s – author of the 1987 book on George A. Romero’s career The Zombies That Ate Pittsburgh - original cover photo from a 1982 issue of Cinefantastique, Synapse Films’ beaut of a Blu-ray is a true labour of love, and one which any discerning fan of CREEPSHOW shouldn’t be without.  By all means, don’t hesitate to pick this up!  Order it from DiabolikDVD.

STREET WAR - VHS REVIEW

Reviewed by Steve Fenton.

Early English export press synopsis: ‘An elderly police captain, recalled to the force after being pensioned off, succeeds in his highly personalized manner, in fighting and ridding the city of a gang of criminals.’

Translation of an original Italian newspaper ad: ‘In a City Overrun with Crime, The Law’s Last Resort is Inspector Murri!’

Desk jock Franco Ressel, to career beat cop Maurizio Merli: “Have you gone crazy? You can’t just take the law into your own hands! Who the hell do you think you are?!”

Merli as Murri: “We have hijackers who say they’re ‘political scapegoats,’ bank robbers who go to jail for a rest cure, criminal violence is sweeping the country, and the Prosecutor’s allergic to bad press!”

Originally titled PAURA IN CITTÀ (“Fear in the City”) and also released in English-dubbed form as HOT STUFF, this 1976 release directed by Giuseppe Rosati – who also helmed the well-above-average crime drama SILENCE THE WITNESS (Il testimone deve tacere, 1974) – was the first film produced by Triomphe Cinematografica (formerly known as Castoro Film), a company jointly owned by Italocrime top gun “Lee Beaver”/Carlo Lizzani and producer Giuseppe Vezzani. Early in this film’s genesis, Jack Palance was hoped to co-star under Mason, but did not (at that time Palance would have been busy on any number of other take-the-money-and-run Italo projects). To stress the topicality of its subject matter, the present film’s original Italian title given above later reappears during the narrative as an incidental newspaper headline.

Incarcerated criminal leader Alberto Lettieri (genre regular Raymond Pellegrin) leads his gang on a massed breakout from the Carcere Giudiziario in Rome. Making good their escape in a paddy wagon, the fugitives – a dozen strong – take along a hostage for security. No sooner are they at liberty than Lettieri’s mob commences a succession of hits on squealers (“It’s as bad as the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre!” remarks one observer). By no means coincidentally, all four victims had been instrumental in Lettieri’s conviction. Against the better judgement of the Polizia Commissioner (Mason), to ensure results the Minister of the Interior demands that he assign disgraced hotheaded Inspector Mario Murri (Merli, natch!) to the case. Murri had been under official suspension from the force, until ordered reinstated by the Minister. “One thing, however, you must get into your head,” explains Mason to Merli, “is that there’s to be no shootouts.” He then qualifies this statement with, “…unless of course it becomes absolutely necessary” (which we know it shall be!). In response, Merli replies, scarcely able to contain his contempt, “That’s easy to say, sir. Naturally, everything looks rosy from behind a desk!” Having gone after Lettieri’s ruthlessly violent crew in his inimitable take-no-prisoners fashion, Murri is commended by the Minister but condemned by the Prosecutor for using excessive force. Following further accusations of this, the Prosecutor places Murri under official judicial inquiry, accused of police brutality, for which the inspector again potentially faces being suspended without pay. Asking for just 48 hours longer to nail the case up tight, Insp. Murri goes on to foil Lettieri’s criminal master plan...

Italian fotobusta courtesy of the Ferguson Foundation.

This time out, Merli (“Wanna know what the shrink says about me? I’ve got a death wish!”) is initially introduced catching fish rather than crooks. He manfully smokes extra-strength, filterless, alveoli-clogging Marlboros and flashes back nostalgically to memories of his wife and daughter, who had fallen victims to a mob car-bomb (shades of  Duccio Tessari’s awesome TONY ARZENTA [1973], starring Alain Delon in the title role). During a later scene here, Merli is attacked by gunmen right at his dear departed loved ones’ graveside, whereafter he contemptuously plugs one attacker right in the forehead and back-shoots his accomplice. Elsewhere, Murri deals more even-handedly with some rowdies on the public transit system after they vandalize a passenger’s glasses (“Driver, stop the bus! These clowns are getting off!”). With the driver and conductor’s help, he then shows them the door, exercising far more ‘diplomatic’ restraint than Merli cop characters were generally known for. Complete with ‘you-are-there’ POV shots through its handlebars and super-boosted along by scorer Giampaolo Chiti’s raucous piano ’n’ bass accompaniment, Merli – doing his own riding stunts – commandeers a motorbike to chase down two rappinatori (“robbers”) mounted on a similar machine. As a consequence of the bikers’ reckless riding, a Ford Capri plows through a flower stall, after which the star first ‘trips-up’ the front wheel of their bike then goes mano a mano to capture the perps. This soon segues into an encounter with Pellegrin’s gang, resulting in an armed standoff during a bank heist. Merli thereafter stalks the culprits with a machinegun in a darkened, arched catacomb.

Frequent genre guest star Cyril Cusack – one of whose most noteworthy outings is Fernando di Leo’s raucously rambunctious crowd-pleaser THE ITALIAN CONNECTION (La mala ordina, 1972) – is cast against his usual type as Giacomo Masoni, an accountant who served hard time for mercy-killing his wife, then ‘escaped’ from stir along with Pellegrin’s gang with only 40 days remaining on his sentence. In actual fact he had been the gang’s unwilling hostage, and Cusack is subsequently strangled to death by Pellegrin after he outlives his usefulness (in a later scene, Pellegrin’s Lettieri character – who is not a nice fella! – beats a railway worker dead with a shovel). Once leading lady Silvia Dionisio (one of the many main squeezes of director Ruggero Deodato) shows up playing Cusack’s onscreen niece, a high-priced call girl named Laura Masoni, the plot spends a bit too much time dwelling on Merli’s and Dionisio’s burgeoning romance, which at least includes her treating him to a slinky striptease. It develops that her late pops – a former railroad employee – had been abducted by Lettieri expressly in order to provide the gang with vital information pertaining to a Bank of Italy robbery involving up to 20-million lire’s worth in old bank notes destined via train from Milan for incineration at the Rome mint. To pull off this their biggest heist, Lettieri’s gang disguise themselves as carabinieri; but when their scheme is exposed, a desperate climactic shootout erupts at a railway siding.

Composer Chiti’s score accents avant-garde jazz, and for the most part might have been better suited to a giallo, and some funkier compositions would perhaps have been more apt here. A stylish freezeframe technique used in the opening jailbreak provides us with a handy ‘mugshot’ of each escapee.

A drag hooker informer (“Whaddaya say to some head?”) is executed by hoodlums. A vicious bank robber coldcocks an elderly priest named Father Saverio (Carcano) in the face with his gun barrel and sneers, “Whaddaya think this is, a confessional?!” The poor clergyman is then made a hostage (“‘Mr. Meek’... you better pray, cuz ya never know when ya gonna meet ya Maker...”). To the piously forgiving Fr. Saverio, Merli subsequently remarks, after decimating the bank robbers, “I’m at peace with myself. I’m not sure about these corpses. They’re the ones that need to be forgiven. Go hit ’em with a coupla ‘Hail Marys’!”

Ressel (“I have an innate distaste for illegal police activity!”) plays the Assistant Prosecutor Dr. LoCascio, who is described by Mason as someone who’d “be happy to put handcuffs on everyone – including the police!” Mason (whose aide is played by Claudio Nicastro, another seasoned genre character player) also opines, regarding Merli, “It’s a sad comment on the state of the world that men like you are so badly needed.” While not without its share of decent lines, dialogue is generally rather poorly dubbed, it should be said. While the name-brand English star obviously didn’t stick around long enough to dub his own lines, they were post-synched by a passable Mason soundalike whose voice is just a couple octaves too high.

As our antsy antihero expectedly guns down Pellegrin in the last act, we never do discover whether he was the one responsible for the killing of Merli’s family or not. The film ends with Merli as Murri returning to exile, taking Dionisio along for company. When all is said and done, STREET WAR (the film’s ’80s Mogul Communications domestic home video title) emerges as a fairly solid if unspectacular addition to the genre.

Notes: STREET WAR was first released on Italian Region 2 DVD in 2003 via Alan Young Pictures, which to this day, remains the definitive version due to the simple fact that it contains an English language audio option.  Enhanced for 16x9, the disc also contains a photo / poster gallery.  This disc was included in Alan Young Pictures’ “Poliziottesco Italiano Box Set”, alongside Stelvio Massi’s EMERGENCY SQUAD (1974), Michele Massimo Tarantini’s CRIMEBUSTERS (1976 – no English audio) and Paolo Lombardo’s DAGLI ARCHIVI DELLA POLIZIA CRIMINALE (1975 – no English audio).  A few years later, this AYP disc was also bootlegged in the U.S. by Alfa Digital as FEAR IN THE CITY, and then later, it was re-released in Italy by Cecchi Gori, but minus the English language audio option.