THE SENSUAL WORLD OF BLACK EMANUELLE - BLU-RAY REVIEW PART 3

Like his earlier nunsploitation twofer, THE OTHER HELL (1980) and THE TRUE STORY OF THE NUN OF MONZA (198), disc six features Bruno Mattei’s VIOLENCE IN A WOMEN’S PRISON (1982) and EMANUELLE IN PRISON (1983), which were helmed jointly alongside each other with frequent collaborator Claudio Fragasso. VIAWP follows the standard WIP template to a tee without ever straying outside the lines. Sent to prison for an unspecified stretch for drugs and prostitution, Laura Kendall (Laura Gemser) is soon witness to the usual acts of humiliation, subjugation, beatings and other such ‘niceties’ common to the women-in-prison genre; which are, more often than not, instigated by the head prison guard Rescaut (Franca Stoppi from BEYOND THE DARKNESS [a.k.a. BUIRED ALIVE, 1979]) and the quietly authoritarian warden, Delores (Lorraine De Selle). At first, Laura merely calmly observes the brutality on display from the sidelines, but she herself eventually becomes drawn into and embroiled in the prison milieu too, and in one of the film’s more memorably disgusting scenes, she dumps a bucket of excrement over a prison guard’s head (“I gave you an order! Obey it!”), resulting in a truly one-of-a-kind, shit-strewn scuffle on the prison floor. Thrown into solitary confinement, she is soon hungrily chewed upon by nasty red-eyed rats during a scene where Gemser appears to be squirming in all-too-genuine discomfort, which only adds extra exploitation verisimilitude to an already sleazy, downbeat scenario. The requisite sympathetic doctor (Gabriele Tinti), himself also an inmate at the men’s prison located – handily – right next door (!?), naturally comes to Laura’s rescue, but, sure enough, one of the prison snitches (Italian porn starlet Françoise Perrot) soon discovers Laura’s covert true identity and motivations, which as a result sees still more indignities being heaped upon her…

 

While ostensibly an unofficial Emanuelle entry, Mattei’s film is far removed from Joe D’Amato’s rather playful, globetrotting skinflicks. Shot in-and-around what appears to be a large abandoned villa, VIAWP is steeped in a morbid sense of decay and hopelessness. Even the sparsely-decorated DePaolis Studios sets are suitably grubby, another aspect that further augments the overall depressing atmosphere. Of course, being a Mattei film, it never fails to entertain, really piling-on the sexploitation staples throughout its almost 100-minute running time. The director also inserts plenty of sleaze in-between all the violence and, in one of film’s more stylish sequences, cons seek solace in each other’s arms during a montage of Sapphic couplings set to appropriate synth-’n’-sax ‘mood muzak’ courtesy of Luigi Ceccarelli. At the time of the film’s release, Gemser had been an established presence in Italian cinema for a number of years already, and she gives a committed performance (once again dubbed by English voice-talent Pat Starke) as the bruised-and-battered heroine and, as with their earlier co-starring roles, she and Tinti generate plenty of believable onscreen chemistry. As expected, Franca Stoppi also puts in another lively, over-the-top performance, adding to the film’s delirious temperament. 

 

Released theatrically and on video simultaneously in the U.S. as CAGED WOMEN in 1984 by both MPM and Vestron Video, respectively, VIAWP film made its official DVD debut in 2002 courtesy of Shriek Show, and was for the time, a nice-looking disc. In 2018, Severin decided to revisit Mattei’s squalid little film with a new “2K scan from an uncensored inter-positive”, which still retains the adequate amount of natural film grain and some surprising colourfully-composed shots, which nonetheless doesn’t take away from the filthy atmosphere on display in abundance. The DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 also sounds very good, with all of the post-synched dialogue coming through loud-’n’-clear. Extras included Brawl in Women’s Block (29m03s), an on-camera interview with Claudio Fragasso and his wife and frequent collaborator Rosella Drudi, who discuss their humble beginnings working together when they “learned to do everything” on a film set, their initial collaboration with Mattei on the two-pack of aforementioned nun films, and the “successful formula” of shooting their films back-to-back, their mutual admiration for Gemser, as well as many of the other actors in the film… and, be ready for their camera-hungry cat, Milo, who photo-bombs the proceedings to share some unexpected screen time with its humans! The disc also included an archival (and re-edited) interview with Mattei (2m47s) which originally appeared on Shriek Show’s DVD, the film’s 30-second radio spot (“A bizarre world of violence where anything goes!”) and reversible cover art featuring two quite striking choices. 

 

For Severin’s present restoration on Blu, another 2K scan was prepared, which is surprising as their previous Blu looked very good, indeed. Brawl in Women’s Block, the Mattei interview, and the radio spot are once again included, but Severin have also secured an interview with producer Roberto Di Girolamo in Two for One (11m50s) who shares his thoughts on his and Mattei’s numerous collaborations and the director’s professionalism, Mattei and Fragasso’s relationship, and the film’s continued popularity. The film’s original Italian trailer (with optional English subtitles, 3m49s) is also included. 

 

Not content to make just one women-in-prison picture, Gemser is back behind bars in EMANUELLE IN PRISON, an unrelated, but structurally similar companion film. After threatening to expose a highly-corrupt District Attorney (Jacques Stany), intrepid reporter Emanuelle (Laura Gemser) finds herself in prison due to a trumped-up drug possession charge. In prison, Emanuelle must not only contend with the usual bull-dykes and sadistic female guards, but in furtherance of the District Attorney’s sly schemes, he orders the prison’s equally corrupt warden (Lorraine De Selle) to try and make her disappear with the help of Albina (a scene-stealing Ursula Flores), the prison’s bitchy top dog and underhanded snitch. However, four extremely violent male prisoners led by the psychotic Crazy Boy (Gabriele Tinti) take control of the prison during a routine transfer resulting in strained psychological warfare and bloody violence…

 

Incorporating several ingredients from VIOLENCE IN A WOMEN’S PRISON, the film’s opening credits are a real eye-catcher, which combines arty, expressionist-styled lighting with existential monologues from several of the film’s prisoners. Set to a sombre, piano-driven synth score from Luigi Ceccarelli, the film’s gloomy, downbeat scenario if firmly established, but in a unique first for an Italo trash film, this jailhouse stage show also takes great pains to try and humanize it’s cast of women behind bars. That being said, director Fragasso (the film’s true director despite the film’s on-screen credit attributed to Frenchman Gilbert Roussel) introduces all the standard women-in-prison elements like lesbianism, catfights, numerous cellblock riots, and lots of lurid dialogue (“I’d like to bite your nipples off! exclaims Emanuelle). Further (in)human behavior between captors and captives ensues when the prison is taken over by Crazy Boy and his accomplices including rape, switchblade stand-offs, Russian roulette (!), and plenty of bloody shotgun blasts. Cutting back and forth at predictably regular intervals between all the extreme violence, a battalion of Italo starlets lounge around in constant states of partial undress, while cries of ecstasy or agony reverberate down the penitentiary halls, in what amounts to a perfect mix of softcore sex pic and skeevy actioner. 

 

Released on VHS in 1987 by the ubiquitous Vestron Video (“Maximum security. Maximum terror.”) as WOMEN’S PRISON MASSACRE, this was eventually issued on DVD twice by Shock-O-Rama Cinema. The first edition was heavily edited, but then in 2008, a 2-disc set included a newly-remastered uncut version paired up with CAGED WOMEN. In 2015, it quietly surfaced on Blu-ray as WOMEN’S PRISON MASSACRE courtesy of Scream Factory in an excellent – but bare-bones – release, which makes Severin’s extras-laden Blu-ray all the more welcome. Severin’s David Gregory confirmed on the Severin Films Podcast that this 2K scan from the film’s original camera negative was the same source used for Scream’s earlier Blu, which by the way, looks quite impressive with nicely-balanced textures and a richness to the, at times, exaggerated colour schemes. Once again, the DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 English audio track features all the usual voice-talent including Carolyn De Fonseca, Ted Rusoff, Susan Spafford, and Pat Starke who voices Gemser yet again. 

 

There are plentiful extras beginning with an audio commentary from Bleeding Skull’s Annie Choi and film editor Perri Pivovar who share their thoughts on the film’s odd opening, it’s “different sensibilities” and slow burn approach to the material, it’s tenuous connection to the other film’s in the series, Mattei’s and Fragasso’s directing style, and their general admiration for the film. Composer Luigi Ceccarelli is then interviewed in Jailhouse Rock (39m02s) who goes over the “academic aspects of studying music”, his fortuitous meeting and long-time collaboration with Mattei, Fragasso, and Fragasso’s wife and writing partner Rossella Drudi, the intricacies of scoring a film, the technological advances within the business, and of course, scoring WOMEN’S PRISON MASSACRE. In Razor Blade Smile (14m00s), actor Pietro Angelo Pozzato talks about his entry into the business and his first films with director D’Amato, and how Fragasso “let him go all over the place” in what amounts to one of the film’s most hilariously histrionic performances. The great Franca Stoppi is then interviewed in Matron of Hell (17m13s) wherein she discusses her lengthy theatrical career, her numerous film roles, her marriage to fellow screen actor Simone Matteoli (who appeared in Andrea Bianchi’s zombie gutmuncher BURIAL GROUND [1980]), and how she is best remembered for her numerous “unhinged performances.” The film’s original English export trailer (3m53s) under its BLADE VIOLENT title is also included. 

 

With disc six concluding the official Black Emanuelle films proper, disc seven commences with the many “apocryphal” films starring Laura Gemser. These titles (which comprise the rest of the box set) were more often than not erroneously credited as a Black Emanuelle picture to help capitalize on Gemser’s growing popularity, and one of the more widely-seen examples was Joe D’Amato’s BLACK COBRA (1976). Arriving in Hong Kong for one of her famous snake-themed stage shows, exotic dancer Eva (Laura Gemser) is befriended at the airport by Jules Carmichael (Gabriele Tinti), who promises to show Eva the Hong Kong she doesn’t know. Jules’ brother Judas (Jack Palance), an eccentric industrialist living in Hong Kong, just happens to have an unhealthy obsession with snakes (“I think you really prefer those damn snakes to people!”) whose luxurious apartment is filled with a variety of slithery reptiles. When Jules and Judas catch one of Eva’s infamous shows, Judas is immediately smitten (“I like the scent of you.”) and invites her to stay at his place, showering her with gifts and his odd sense of affection. However, just when everything seems settled, Eva’s predilection for the female form, and Jules’ duplicitous behaviour gradually erode this short-lived – and somewhat strained - arrangement…

 

Seldom having looked more radiant than she does here, it’s no wonder that Palance’s character idolizes her, even if, only as another objectified female fantasy figure (“It’s nice to be appreciated, rather than collected!” remarks Eva). Casually moving along to the sounds of Piero Umiliani’s mellow rhythms, what begins as typical softcore titillation with several highly-charged erotic tableaus (including a lengthy soapy shower scene), soon develops into a treacherous powerplay when Eva’s new girlfriend Gerri (Michele Starck) and Jules’ jealousy threatens the odd status quo, all of which leads to an unforgettable ending where other films of this ilk dare to venture. 

 

Although released on VHS in 1987 by Video Gems (“Deadly passions… Exotic desires.”), this was a difficult title to track down during the DVD era with only cheap bootlegs haunting every bargain bin imaginable. In 2018, Code Red released the film on Blu-ray as the cheekily retitled EMMANUELLE AND THE DEADLY BLACK COBRA (notice the double “M” spelling), which was quite the revelation after suffering through several cruddy versions over the years. The disc included a DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 English audio track that was tolerable, but there was some very noticeable pops and hiss, which probably meant the audio was taken from an inferior source. Once again, it was confirmed by David Gregory on the Severin Films Podcast that this HD transfer on Severin’s new Blu-ray was taken from the same source, but some additional clean-up and colour-grading was done. Thankfully, the DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 tracks sound far cleaner than Code Red’s earlier Blu, and are included in English and Italian (with optional English SDH subtitles). 

 

Further enriched with several noteworthy extra features, Severin’s disc begins with a highly-entertaining audio commentary from film historian Samm Deighan, wherein she discusses the film’s various titles and releases, it’s similarities to D’Amato’s other Hong Kong-lensed film EMANUELLE IN BANGKOK, it’s “exoticism”, the massive popularity of the series as a whole, the numerous differences between the French Emmanuelle films and the “countless Italian ones”, the film’s strange plot and “exploitation movie set-up”, D’Amato’s long career, and much more besides. Next up, D’Amato is interviewed by Mark Ashworth in Joe D’Amato at Eurofest (11m57s) wherein the director talks about his extreme cinema, his various pseudonyms, the “professionalism of working in the United States, and how BEYOND THE DARKNESS is his personal favourite among his films. In From Prague to Hong Kong (12m58s), actor Michele Stark, of Czech and French parents, talks about her migration to Italy and her work on BLACK COBRA, where she reveals that Jack Palance was really “arrogant.” The film’s original English export trailer (3m14s), which includes some different music cues, is also included.

 

Although the co-feature on disc seven ideally epitomizes all the necessary elements expected of your prototypical Black Emanuelle picture, Brunello Rondi’s BLACK VELVET (a.k.a. BLACK EMMANUELLE, WHITE EMMANUELLE, 1976) clearly sacrifices narrative transparency in favour of a more free-wheeling ‘experience’; consider this an erotic film for the arthouse crowd. The minimal plot centres around a disparate group of people in Egypt, which includes Laura (Laura Gemser) “the world’s most famous model” and her incredibly abusive photographer Carlo (Gabriele Tinti), the emotionally bankrupt Crystal (Susan Scott), her spunky daughter Pina (Annie Belle), and Horatio (Al Cliver), an indifferent mystic who promises some sort of spiritual reawakening for his wannabe disciples (“When will you take us to the Holy Place?”). Virtually plotless, this is a mesmerizing oddity where high art and lowly sleaze co-exist in a kind of disharmonious imbalance. Supported by an attractive cast and some stunning locations, the sex scenes are plentiful (including one very surprising ‘in-your-face’ moment), but interestingly, are punctuated by a seemingly abject loneliness. Elsewhere, in one of the film’s most memorably revolting scenes, Laura is forced to pose in front of a rotting animal carcass, and later, in an even more sensationalistic photo shoot, several recently discovered corpses. Couched in enigmas, the overall tone is as cryptic, cold and unlikable as most of the character’s in the picture, which is not to say it isn’t compelling, just confounding.

 

Although released multiple times onto VHS, including a 1983 release from Cult Video as SMOOTH VELVET RAW SILK (it was subsequently rereleased by Continental Video in 1986 as EMANUELLE IN EGYPT), the film’s scope photography was severely compromised in all of its analogue incarnations. In 2008, as part of their Black Emanuelle’s Box Volume 2, Severin’s DVD not only featured the uncut version, but also restored the film’s proper 2.35:1 framing giving further depth to Gastone Di Giovanni’s lush cinematography. Audio options included both English (with some scenes still in Italian with English subtitles) and Italian (with optional English subtitles), which sounded fine. Extras included Black Velvet (18m28s), an interesting featurette highlighted by an on-camera interview with star Al Cliver and additional audio interviews with Gemser and Belle, who chronicle the confusing nature of making all these movies at the same time, the film’s locations, Rondi’s lack of direction, and much more. The film’s original Italian trailer (3m46s) was also included.

 

Severin’s new Blu-ray is another very pleasing upgrade whose boost in resolution improves detail considerably, and looks appropriately robust with stronger colour reproduction. The DTS-HD 2.0 Master Audio once again features the same audio options as the DVD, which come through with audible vigour, especially when Dario & Alberto Baldan Bembo’s sumptuous score takes over. Outside of the aforementioned Black Velvet featurette, newly-produced extras include an interview with biographer Alberto Pezzotta in The Roots of Evil (17m14s) where he provides plenty of insightful context including the film’s deceiving marketing by producer Alfredo Bini, the film’s similarities to Pier Paolo Pasolini’s ARABIAN NIGHTS (1975), how Rondi pushed the limits of censorship, and much more in this rather illuminating glimpse into the film, which should help viewers garner a better understanding of its odd appeal. In A Relationship of Confusion (17m16s), critic Joseph Fahim explores this unique film from an Egyptian perspective and how its “an artifact of its time”, Egypt’s limited European productions and how it would be impossible to make a film such as this today, and lastly how censorship was put into place in Egypt soon after the film’s release; given the lack of comprehensive history on the Egyptian film industry, this was a very pleasant and eye-opening surprise. The disc also includes the film’s English opening credits (1m48s), which were taken from Miracle Films’ UK pre-cert VHS, as well as the film’s rare English export trailer as SMOOTH VELVET WHITE SILK (which includes alternate music cues, 3m46s), and the aforementioned Italian trailer.

ROBOWAR - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Reviewed by Steve Fenton.

Let’s get one thing straight right at the start: coming as it did from 1988 (i.e., during the ‘last gasp’ of Italo trash cinema), as well as from low-end exploitationeer Bruno Mattei (using his infamous “Vincent Dawn” pseudonym), ROBOWAR is pure, undiluted exploitation mindrot that makes absolutely no bones about who and what it’s exploiting. Over the course of its brisk 88-minute runtime, it succeeds in—well, triesto, at least—ripping-off elements from ROBOCOP (as the title most obviously suggests), PREDATOR (especially that film!), the entire Rambo series, ALIENS, and also Arnold Schwarzenegger’s then-recent campy combat actioner COMMANDO, with a dash of Oliver Stone’s PLATOON thrown in for good measure.

Whole segments from ROBOWAR’s principal influence source PREDATOR are lifted almost verbatim and given the low-budget rerun-through. There are skinned human carcasses hung in trees and a bit where our mucho-macho ‘heroes’ use their arsenal of big guns like high-calibre Weed-Whackers in order to rout the hidden menace possibly lurking in the bush (“Whoever it was, it ain’t no more!”); indeed, as if to belabor this obvious nod to PREDATOR, there are numerous scenes of the heroes shooting wildly into the undergrowth elsewhere throughout, so obviously the minimal budget at least allowed for an unlimited amount of ammo to be fired-off! Playing one Major Murphy Black (“...better-known as ‘Kill-Zone’!”), Reb Brown leads a ‘crack’ expeditionary force of mercenaries somewhere deep in a Latin-American (or is it Southeast Asian?) jungle. Amongst others under Brown-as-Black’s command is well-seasoned spaghetti stunt-grunt Romano Puppo, who appears highly credible as the outfit’s grizzled, grim-faced senior member, Corporal Neil Corey (“Expert heavy weapons, top marksman rating…”), while Massimo Vanni, better-known to some as “Alex McBride”, plays Private Larry Guarino, alias “Diddy-Bopper” (?!) or just plain “Diddy” for short. As the squad’s shortest member and (quote) “crack reconnaissance man”, “McBride”/Vanni does a loose impression of Chuck Norris (circa that worthy’s Missing in Action stints), with mirror-shades, erect triceps, unkempt facial growth and all. Like Puppo an experienced fall guy in his own right, Vanni—best-known for his work on ’70s/’80s Italocrimers—also served as the film’s stunt coordinator (utilizing local Filipino stuntmen, who had plenty of experience in this sort of thing, as, not only were many European and American ‘tourist’ productions being shot in the Philippines at the time, but the nation simultaneously had its own then-thriving action movie industry too). Receiving plentiful screen-time herein, physically imposing (roughly 6-foot-5-inch) Pinoy actor Max Laurel (who played the titular snake/man-monster in both Jun Raquiza’s ZUMA [1985] and Ben Yalung’s sequel ANAK NI ZUMA [1987]) appears as Quang, the squad’s sole Asian (as in South Vietnamese) member and laconic pointman.

Collectively nicknamed BAM, an acronym for “Big-Assed Motherfuckers” (in our opinion, “BadassMofos” has a much better ring to it, but I guess something got lost in translation), our ‘dirty half-dozen’ are there to track down a renegade, gone-AWOL military cyborg as well as battle token revolutionary guerillas (who are present merely to up the gratuitous body-count during loads of chaotic combat scenes). Him—er, it?—known as “Omega I” is a bionic half-man/half-robot super-soldier invented by an unscrupulous techie named Mascher (played by Mel Davidson, wildly under- and overacting by turns) for use in militarily difficult theatres of war. To add some extra ‘dramatic tension’ to the proceedings, it develops that Omega incorporates various leftover bits-’n’-pieces of Reb’s ex-’Nam vet buddy, who was blown apart by a ’Cong land-mine.

Catherine Hickland (playing a chick named “Virgin” [yeah, right!]) is a blonde white missionary the squad picks up along the way, who eventually takes up arms—albeit without ever even coming close to actually shooting anything!—against the delinquent cyborg. Handling her M-16 like a squeeze-mop, rather than bother trying to come across like some kickass Sigourney Weaver clonette, Ms. Hickland instead plays seventh fiddle to the boys and steers clear of the gunfights. During these, lots of innocent incidental shrubbery (courtesy of the Filipino locations) and low-rent jungle real estate get blowed-up real good care of economical-if-energetic pyrotechnical effects.

Realization of the supposedly terrifying Omega droid is tawdrily shoddy in the extreme, it should—and indeed, must—be said. Super Force (1990), US TV’s own ROBOCOP rip-off from the same period, boasted a much more ominous-looking costume, and that guy was the hero! In the long run, ROBOWAR’s sub-state-of-the-art biomechanical menace comes across about as intimidating as your average 8-inch toy action figure. Indeed, the most-realistic aspect of Omega’s get-up is its black-painted football-cum-motorcycle crash helmet with smoked plastic visor; its least-convincing aspect being the urine-tinted, fuzzily digitized POV shots (accompanied by an overlaid gibberish of electronic tonalities) that indicate its heavily-pixelated worldview. For the most part, DP Riccardo Grassetti’s camerawork is efficiently functional, looking all the easier on the eyeballs in Severin’s pristine BD edition, and the crisp cinematography makes special makeup-man Franco Di Girolamo’s gnarly ‘putrefying cadaver’ effects appear that much gnarlier.

The affably dudebro-ish Brown—some of whose career ‘highpoints’ are a couple of Captain America TV movies and “Anthony M. Dawson”/Antonio Margheriti’s prehysterical schlock sci-fi epic YOR: THE HUNTER FROM THE FUTURE (1983)—spends most of his screen-time looking like either a mildly-startled bullock or an embarrassed Myrtle Beach surfer dude (or both at once). Possibly the Omega reminded Reb of resident supervillain Overlord’s pet ’bots in YOR too much, and made him nervous? His California beach bum act (complete with jet-black headband, as per his onscreen surname) is mostly played tongue-in-cheek, although he really gives his all in some scenes (you’ll know ’em when you see ’em!). But, was our Reb starting to look more and more like Doug McClure (especially in his career moves) during this period in his career? At one juncture, Brown pins a guerilla to the side of a native hut with a thrown knife. With the punchline-timing of an Arnie or Freddy, he then proceeds to deadpan, “Don’t move!”

After ROBOWAR and his work on Fulci’s lamentable and virtually unsalvageable ‘unfinished mantelpiece’ ZOMBIE 3, it seems as though Bruno Mattei’s best effort, in this writer’s opinion, shall remain the nasty nunsploitation shocker THE OTHER HELL (1981); although, since Mattei openly admitted he’d never made a good film anyway, my opinion is entirely disposable. In the present offering, the director throws our way sufficient explosions, f-bombs—including a surprising number from former ‘boy-next-door’ Brown—unexpectedly competent and grisly after-the-fact gore FX, as well as prodigious amounts of asinine dialogue, that there’s not much time left to dwell on ROBOWAR’s shortcomings, when all is said and done… it definitely does entertain, and that’s the main thing. 

Final verdict: ROBOWAR is an absolutely vacuous but fun timewaster for undemanding fans of such fare; nothing less, and certainly nothing more. As rampaging sub-zero cyborg exploitation goes, gimme FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE SPACE MONSTER any day, but for 1980s future schlock sci-fi, the present film ain’t too shabby at all (especially when you consider some of the far-crappier and less-energetic American-made STV [“straight-to-video”] ROBOCOP/ PREDATOR imitations that were released back then). Al Festa’s noodly synth electrobeat/cheese metal score is late-’80s all the way, and doesn’t sound half-bad even in 2019; who cares that incidental songs are periodically superimposed atop the action on a seemingly random basis, without rhyme nor reason?! While it’s been very nearly 30 years (GULP!) since I last killed X number of brain-cells watching ROBOWAR, in retrospect—especially in light of its latest, optimal incarnation on Blu-ray—it looks a whole lot better (in more ways than one) than I remember it being the first time round. 

In conclusion: let’s hear it for Reb Brown, the “Doug McClure” of the ’80s and ’90s!

Like Mattei’s other unashamedly—and highly-enjoyable—rip-off, SHOCKING DARK (1990), ROBOWAR was also never officially released in either the U.S. or Canada in any form, and it first gained notoriety among discerning cineastes via Columbia Home Video’s Japanese VHS videocassette release. In English with Japanese subtitles, Columbia’s tape also retained the film’s original 1.85:1 aspect ratio, and it remained the optimum release for more than two decades prior to Severin’s long-overdue Blu-ray. Scanned in 4K from the original camera negative, this all-region edition is virtually flawless, boasting razor-sharp detail and a bold, lush colour scheme, which is especially attractive considering that the entire narrative unfolds in a tropical rainforest. However, this added clarity also draws attention to the film’s ‘rough edges’, including the hilariously thrifty robo-suit. The DTS-HD MA 2.0 audio is provided in both English and Italian (with optional SDH and newly-translated English subtitles, respectively), and while there are some minor differences between the two tracks, it’s pretty hard to resist the film’s animated and sometimes highly-surreal English audio, which at times is a real hoot (e.g., “C’mon, Doc, you walk like a ruptured duck!”).

Containing a whopping six (!) special featurettes, the extras begin with Robo Predator (23m06s), an on-camera interview with writer/director Claudio Fragasso (a.k.a. “Clyde Anderson”), who shares his memories of working with Bruno Mattei and their cost-effective technique of shooting two different films simultaneously, beginning with their earliest collaborations, THE TRUE STORY OF THE NUN OF MONZA (1980) and THE OTHER HELL (1980), and later ROBOWAR along with Fragasso’s zombie film AFTER DEATH (1988), which they shot using only one camera! He also praises Mattei for his prowess as an editor, and how at one point he had to step in and direct a few sequences when Mattei fell ill. In Italian Rip-Off (9m18s), screenwriter Rossella Drudi gives her thoughts on the genesis of the film, and how she and Fragasso were commissioned to deliver a (quote) “part-PREDATOR, part-ROBOCOP, and part-ALIEN” film for producer Franco Gaudenzi. Drudi also admits how initially she wasn’t very fond of ROBOWAR, but after re-watching the film, she has become more forgiving (“It’s a nice movie. It’s very funny!”). Drudi pops-up again in Violence, She Wrote (21m05s) for a career-spanning interview, which is similar to the one she shared with Claudio Fragasso on Severin’s BD of VIOLENCE IN A WOMEN’S PRISON (1983). Nevertheless, in this new featurette, she shares a number of interesting stories as one of the very few female screenwriters associated—at that time, at least—with the horror genre.

The film’s leading lady, Catherine Hickland submits to an interview in Robolady (11m34s), during which she reminiscences about the unforgiving Philippine locations and how (quote) “There were a lot of surprises there for me”; she also speaks fondly of the cast and crew, despite some of them only speaking Italian (including director Mattei). In addition she discusses leading man Reb Brown’s (quote) “utter commitment”, no matter what the scene called for (this dedication is never more apparent than when Brown daringly leaps from atop a lofty cataract into a pool far below, and also during a strangely poignant anticlimactic scene at the end when he convincingly sheds tears over what his fallen ’Nam comrade-at-arms has become). In Papa Doc’s War (12m50s), American actor John P. Dulaney briefly discusses his career in Italian cinema and how he ended-up in the Philippines thanks to his friend, actor Mike Monty; the hot ’n’ humid locations; and how Mattei instructed everyone to yell incessantly while firing their machineguns. Actor Jim Gaines, Jr. is interviewed in The Robo Warrior (9m02s), wherein he primarily talks about how ROBOWAR was shot simultaneously with AFTER DEATH, as well as relating a number of funny anecdotes. Finally, in War of the Philippines (17m32s), actor/stuntman Massimo Vanni, who went by the anglicized pseudonym “Alex McBride” for most of his ’80s work, speaks warmly of working with Mattei, and how he initially got to know him via his cousin, editor Vincenzo Vanni. He goes on to discuss Mattei’s and Fragasso’s working relationship and how he enjoyed making (quote) “homemade” versions of Hollywood blockbusters. 

Additionally, this already extras-packed release includes Catherine Hickland’s Behind the Scenes Home Videos (15m14s), which is narrated by Hickland herself and features most of the cast and crew enjoying their time on-set and also includes an appearance by long-time actor Luciano Pigozzi (see note below). ROBOWAR’s trailer finishes-off the extras. For the first 3000 copies of the run, Al Festa’s score is included on a bonus CD. The film is currently available through Severin as a Limited Edition Blu-ray, DVD or as part of a Robowar bundle. For you Canadian readers, copies can be obtained from Suspect Video.

Note: Evidently, some scenes featuring long-time Italian character player Luciano Pigozzi (a.k.a. “Alan Collins”) were shot, but for whatever reason got excised from the final cut. Coincidentally enough, the same thing supposedly happened to the same actor on Mattei’s hilariously out-of-whack Vietnam War-set poliziesco COP GAME (1988), yet the name “Alan Collins” remains in its opening credits (as it also does on ROBOWAR), despite Pigozzi himself being nowhere to be seen in the flesh. 

ZOMBIE 4: AFTER DEATH - BLU-RAY REVIEW

Following the troubled, Philippines-based production of Lucio Fulci’s ZOMBIE 3 (a.k.a. ZOMBI 3, 1988), on which co-directors Bruno Mattei and Claudio Fragasso were hired to finish after Fulci was unable to deliver a complete film, Fragasso was given an opportunity to direct AFTER DEATH (1989), yet another zombie epic – and again shot in the Philippines – for producer Franco Gaudenzi. Written by his wife and frequent collaborator Rossella Drudi, the film takes its cue from Fulci’s vastly-superior ZOMBIE (a.k.a. ZOMBI 2, 1979) by incorporating mysterious islands and voodoo rites into its frenetic, often mindless blend of gore and low-rent action. Making its worldwide Blu-ray debut, this zany barrage of genres is given first-class treatment courtesy of Severin’s extras-laden new disc.

While conducting research at the forefront of a revolutionary cure for cancer, a group of scientists on a remote Asian island anger the local voodoo priest when his daughter dies after having been treated with their so-called cancer vaccine. In retaliation, the priest opens one of the doors to Hell (“You wanted to defy Hell, and now Hell has accepted the challenge!”), and his daughter, who is now a drooling zombie/demon, slaughters these well-meaning – if heavily-armed! – scientists, while the island is destined to become (quote) “The Island of the Living Dead”. Years later, a rather eccentric group of (what appear to be) tourists and mercenaries (!), are mysteriously drawn to the cursed island when the engine on their boat begins to act-up. But unbeknownst to them, Jenny (Candice Daly) is one of the lone survivors from the massacre all those years ago. Meanwhile, a small group of researchers led by David (Alex McBride) and his two students Chuck (Chuck Peyton / a.k.a. Jeff Stryker) and Valerie also get caught up in the island’s (quote) “strange plague”; at one stage in a candy-coloured, candle-lit cave, they even read some incantations from ‘The Book of the Dead’ (the cover actually reads ‘The Book of Death’), which – natch! – brings forth even more zombies to join those that are already free-ranging all over the isle.

Hilariously, endearingly inept, AFTER DEATH has very little in the way of plot or character development (why complicate matters?!). Following its lengthy prologue – which, incidentally, was shot back home in Rome on the set of Michele Soavi’s flashy occult shocker THE CHURCH (1988) – these (quote) “soldiers of fortune” and hangers-on are simply plopped onto the island by some unexplainable force, and thereafter begin battling cloth-covered zombies. They eventually make it to the island’s dilapidated hospital where, amidst a barrage of machine gun fire, they fend-off the (small) horde of oncoming walking corpses (“Shoot the motherfuckers!”), some of which just shamble aimlessly about, while others run, talk and even use weapons. Pilfering elements from a number of other films which are too numerous to mention, AFTER DEATH is perhaps closest in spirit to Andrea Bianchi’s consummately trashy BURIAL GROUND (a.k.a. THE NIGHTS OF TERROR, 1980), mixed-together with one of Flora Film’s ubiquitous ’80s action films, most of which, as with the present one, were also shot in the Philippines. 

Never released on U.S. or Canadian Beta/VHS videocassette, AFTER DEATH was mostly seen via SPO’s Japanese tape, which was uncut and in English (with Japanese subtitles, of course) but was presented full-screen, an unusual anomaly for Japanese tapes back then (most of whose transfer prints were presented in their original theatrical aspect ratio, which was always a nice bonus). The film received its official North American debut via Shriek Show’s 2002 DVD, which was properly shown in its 1.85:1 aspect ratio and, just like Severin’s new Blu-ray, also retitled ZOMBIE 4: AFTER DEATH on its packaging. The disc featured a nice, colourful transfer of the slightly shorter “Uncut Original Version” as opposed to the “Export Version” included on both the Japanese tape and Severin’s new disc. This latter version doesn’t include any extra gore, but it does have a few extended scenes, including Jenny’s backstory and the island’s history (click here to see the differences). Extras on that earlier disc featured a solid interview with Claudio Fragasso, and a very short one with Candice Daly; plus another lengthier one with Jeff Stryker. The disc also featured a trailer for AD, as well as trailers for some other Shriek Show product.

Following a proposed-but-aborted Blu-ray edition from the same company a few years back, Severin have now debuted the film on Blu and, as with their other Italian releases, it’s another fine-looking disc indeed. The misty, fog-enshrouded settings and colourful action scenes look great here, and while it’s maybe not quite on a par with Severin’s ZOMBIE 3 Blu, it still looks miles better than any releases which came before it. Mostly shot at night (more on that later), Luigi Ciccarese’s photography benefits greatly from the added clarity of the crisp new 2K transfer, which exhibits nice, deep blacks and rich, stable colours. The sound likewise registers mighty fine, with the DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 track clear enough for us to be able to better appreciate (!) the wonky dubbing of the entire cast, as well as Al Festa’s driving, highly-’80sesque synth score, further highlighting the unforgettable title track “Living After Death”, which Severin have (for the first 3000 units) also included on a bonus CD featuring the film’s entire soundtrack (18 tracks, totalling 52m19s). What more do ya want when it ain’t even Christmas?!

In Run Zombie Run (31m50s), what is basically Part 3 of their ongoing interview with Claudio Fragasso and Rossella Drudi from their earlier Blu’s of VIOLENCE IN A WOMEN’S PRISON (1982) and ZOMBIE 3 (1988), the always-chatty couple discuss the origins of the project, and how it represented Fragasso’s (quote) “personal revenge” on zombie movies; the discussion also covers the challenging shooting conditions of the film, as well as how it was shot concurrently with Bruno Mattei’s ‘straight’ actioner STRIKE COMMANDO 2 (1988) utilizing the same cameras, which resulted in Fragasso shooting all his scenes at night, while Mattei got to use the cameras during the daytime! Both Fragasso and Drudi go on to praise George A. Romero as the (quote) “maestro” and get into the social significance of zombie films, also discussing the current (sorry) state of the Italian film industry, and how directors of genre films are labeled as (quote) “Z-grade” in Italy. It’s another great, informative interview, which once again features their kitty-cat trying to hog even more screen-time! In Jeff Stryker in Manila (9m32s), the once-popular gay porn icon talks about his start in the business, how he was touted as the (quote) “cat’s meow” and how he landed roles in a couple of Italian films (the other one being Joe D’Amato’s DIRTY LOVE [a.k.a. 11 DAYS, 11 NIGHTS PART 3, 1988]), this due to German character actor Werner Pochath, who was a fan of his work. As for AFTER DEATH, he talks about the (quote) “handwritten” script, which resulted in a lot of improvisation, and how he would (quote) “play it by ear” as they went along. In Blonde vs Zombies (2m18s), a reedited interview from Shriek Show’s DVD, Candice Daly talks briefly talks about her experiences on the film. Also included is some behind-the-scenes footage (3m43s) of Fragasso and art director Bartolomeo Scavia shooting the film’s prologue, plus AD’s trailer, which finishes-off the extras. 

While inherently silly, Fragasso’s film is nevertheless a gory, fast-paced zombie-action film, which strips away much of the fat – not to mention any intelligence – in its rudimentary storyline, but ably succeeds at mustering-up enough energy for an undemanding night’s entertainment. Severin Films are currently offering The Zombie Dark Super Deluxe Bundle, The Zombie Dark Deluxe Bundle, The Zombie Dark Blu-ray Bundle, the Blu-ray and the DVD for pre-order. It’s also available for pre-order from DiabolikDVD, or for you Canadian readers, Suspect Video.

THE OTHER HELL - BLU-RAY REVIEW

In an extended prologue, Sister Cristina ventures into a dark, decrepit old crypt of a contemporary nunnery where Sister Assunta (Paola Montenero) apparently resides.  This gloomy place doubles as Sister Assunta’s makeshift laboratory of sorts, where she is in the midst of embalming a deceased ‘sinful nun’. Believing that (quote) “the genitals are the door to evil!” she angrily stabs the corpse in its groin, while her junior “assistant” Sister Cristina understandably watches in horror.  Seemingly, maybe even supernaturally, possessed by some malevolent spirit - a potential fact which is crudely implied by a shot of what appears to be a corpse with flashing red eyes - Sister Assunta becomes increasingly hysterical as she attacks Sister Cristina, stabbing her to death. And so begins Bruno Mattei’s scandalous THE OTHER HELL (1980), which is making its Blu-ray debut courtesy of those crazy cinema connoisseurs at Severin Films in what is surely the definitive version to date of this enjoyable—and at times truly delirious—nunsploitation shocker.

When, at this same sinister convent, another nun by the name of Sister Rosaria (the so-called “Susan Forget” [she probably wishes she could!] a.k.a. Susanna Forgioni), unexpectedly coughs-up blood and manifests stigmata after taking the holy sacrament, the Church sends in Father / padre Inardo (“Andrew Ray” a.k.a. Andrea Aureli) to investigate, but he gets nowhere thanks to the ever-paranoid—and exceedingly strict!—Mother Superior (Franca Stoppi, also seen as a similarly fanatical character that same year in “Oblowsky”/Mattei’s own, and much-more-sexploitative “sister” effort, The TRUE STORY OF THE NUN OF MONZA [1980]).  Undeterred, the Bishop (Tom Felleghy) appoints the level-headed Father Valerio (Carlo De Mejo) to continue with the investigation. Valerio believes that (quote) “evil exists in the hearts and minds of human beings”, but both his faith and skills as a sort of “ecclesiastical detective” will be challenged to their very limits by the horror that awaits him…

Although the late Joe D’Amato once bemoaned the poor box-office receipts of his own ‘nunsploitation’ efforts - including IMAGES IN A CONVENT (1979), which has since gone on to become hailed as a sort of “cornerstone” of its type! – many of these “nasty nun” movies (which have nowadays become more popularly known as “nunsploitation”) are now a popular subgenre among international trash/cult film fanatics. Perhaps not unexpectedly, the lion’s share of such fare hails from Italy (although various other Latin nations and even - go figure! - Japan have also proven to be quite prolific sources of similar material in all forms of media). However, unlike most of its softcore - and even full-on/all-out hardcore - sister films, THE OTHER HELL transposed many of the subgenre’s themes into a horror movie framework instead.  While definitely still falling firmly into nasty nun territory, Mattei’s film barely bares even a nipple and instead focuses primarily on the blood ’n’ guts horror aspects, even pilfering certain plot points from such popular films as William Friedkin’s THE EXORCIST (1973) and Brian De Palma’s CARRIE (1976).  Unofficially co-directed by scriptwriter—and future “solo” director—Claudio Fragasso, THE OTHER HELL was shot simultaneously - at the very same location, in fact - alongside Mattei’s other nunsploitation flick, the aforementioned THE TRUE STORY OF THE NUN OF MONZA, which utilized many of the same cast members as well.

Italian fotobusta courtesy of Steve Fenton.

As per any Mattei / Fragasso collaboration, everything is waaayyy over-the-top, even verging on the outright ridiculous at times, which is especially prominent in a number of the less-than-stellar performances.  For instance, Paola Montenero - an actress from the early days of Italian hardcore porn - as Sister Assunta provides just one such example as she rants and raves during the opening few minutes, whose hysterical histrionics establish the fevered tone early into the narrative.  It’s only Aureli and De Mejo, as colleague clerics Fathers Inardo and Valerio respectively, who give believably naturalistic performances.  In the face of escalating madness, Fr. Valerio possesses a keen acumen for the ungodly weirdness that is plaguing the convent.  Upon his arrival, Mother Vincenza and the other nuns are going around frantically torching anything and everything pertaining to Sister Rosaria’s death.  “The evil is getting burned!” exclaims Mother Vincenza. But Fr. Valerio, ever the gumshoe as well as a priest, responds much more rationally and cannily by saying, “The fingerprints tend to disappear in the ashes, too!”  Much like in a giallo, Fr. Valerio methodically tries to get to the bottom of the ever-mounting mystery, even at the risk of his own life; the film even resorts to clichéd red herrings like the convent’s caretaker Boris (“Frank Garfeeld” a.k.a. Franco Garofalo, another alumnus of THE TRUE STORY OF THE NUN OF MONZA).  But rather than becoming just another mundane mystery thriller, THE OTHER HELL really lets loose in its final act, into which figures everything from paranormal childbirth to a Pazuzu-like demon, with even some telekinesis thrown in to really mix things up. 

Previously available on VHS through Vestron Video in the U.S. (the preferable option) and in Canada from Lettuce Entertain You, Inc. (a cruddy cheapo label), THE OTHER HELL also secured a solid DVD edition from Shriek Show in 2003, which, at that time, amounted to one of their worthier releases.  Taken from a newly-transferred 35mm print jokingly claimed to have been “discovered behind a false wall in a Bologna nunnery” (HAH!), Severin’s new Blu-ray is a considerable improvement over Shriek Show’s DVD, and is much more representational of the movie’s low-budget origins.  Presented in its original 1.66:1 aspect ratio, some of the darker, possibly too-underlit scenes still reveal the film stock’s natural grain, but much of the image is considerably sharper and even colourful, although some occasional speckles and other visual debris are apparent, which, to be fair, don’t distract at all.  In a nice added gesture, Severin have not only included the expected English dubbing track, but also Italian and French audio options - with optional English SDH subtitles - as well.  All three audio tracks are in uncompressed LPCM 2.0 Mono, but most viewers will undoubtedly stick with the English one, which features such familiar-to-the-ears voice-acting talent as John Gayford, who reads Fr. Valerio’s lines in the vernacular.

  

In terms of extras, the main highlight is an audio commentary with Claudio Fragasso, moderated by Freak-O-Rama’s Federico Caddeo.  Very thorough and quite the storyteller, Fragasso discusses the various locations, which utilized the derelict convent of Santa Priscilla in Rome and some interiors at De Paolis studios, as well as the famous Cimitero di Fontanelle in Naples for the opening shots; plus the challenges of shooting two films at once within a tight 5-week schedule (“Bruno was quite absorbed in the other movie”), which allowed him to (quote) “impose” his own ideas onto the film; and he also relates how—not surprisingly, due to its more sensationalistic / exploitational elements, despite its dearth of either nudity or sexual content—the present film went on to become the more successful, better-distributed, and hence most widely-seen of the two pictures.  Other topics discussed in Severin’s commentary track by Fragasso include the (quote) “very collaborative” relationship he had with Bruno Mattei; as well as some of the other personnel involved with the production, including editor Liliana Serra, who was Mattei’s wife.  It’s an excellent, fast-paced commentary, filled with plenty of interesting facts, anecdotes and trivia related to the production, and is well-worth the listen.

Other extras include Sister Franca (13m12s), an archival on-camera interview with the late Franca Stoppi (who died in 2011), wherein the actress - who is arguably best-known for co-starring in D’Amato’s necrophilic gross-out BEYOND THE DARKNESS (a.k.a. BURIED ALIVE, 1979) - covers many of the same topics, and Stoppi also relates how she worked on both THE OTHER HELL and THE TRUE STORY OF THE NUN OF MONZA during the day whilst juggling theatre work at night.  She also discusses her bout with stage fright, plus her then-current interests as an animal rights advocate/activist.   In To Hell and Back (11m20s), which is a reedited piece combining archival interviews (from the Shriek Show DVD) with Bruno Mattei and Carlo De Mejo, they discuss a potentially different location used for the convent (i.e., the Palazzo Borghese on Via di Novella); supporting actress Montenero, who was married to director Massimo Pirri; and how Mattei’s friendship with Cinevox’s Carlo Bixio allowed him to acquire the Goblin music tracks heard in the film.  The original theatrical trailer finishes off the extras, and, once again, Severin have also included reversible cover art, which features both the long-defunct Interlight video label’s U.K. VHS art as well as Vestron’s U.S. vid art. All this and a promotional cover-blurb quoted from Monster! zine / Unpopped’s own Steve Fenton(e)’s book AntiCristo: The Bible of Nasty Nun Sinema & Culture (FAB Press, 2000) too, yet! Hell, he even kicked-off his long-out-of-print tome with a suitably lurid dialogue passage taken from the very film under review, revealing just how much the film epitomizes nunsploitation cinema as a whole.

Whatever one’s personal views regarding this decidedly dubious subgenre, THE OTHER HELL remains one of its more outrageously entertaining and enjoyable efforts, so go ahead and corrupt your soul with Severin’s new Blu-ray. It definitely delivers the sinful goods! Order it from Severin or DiabolikDVD.