Reviewed by Steve Fenton, with Dennis Capicik.
One-sheet poster tagline for Sunset
International’s 1975 stateside release: “A
Bizarre Plot Erupts In Violence ...Lives Are Shattered In The Gory Wake...”
Scorpion’s 1988 US videocassette cover blurbs:
“Unleashing a Storm of Savage Crime....
Viciousness Fuelled by Desperation and Hatred....”
Dating from 1972 and co-directed by Rolf
Olsen (1919-1998) and Lee Payant, this is a predominantly Germanic crime
meller, albeit with a strong Italo showing. Its German title BLUTIGER
FREITAG was simply translated into English for its American release
(just for the record, the film’s Italian title is VIOLENZA CONTRO VIOLENZA / “Violence Against Violence”).
“Filmed
Where It Actually Happened!!” shrieked an alternate catch-line honestly
(if rather meaninglessly, so far as most non-Germans were concerned) for this
film’s North American theatrical release under the present title. As if the
poster wasn’t sensationalistic enough, an introductory blurb on Scorpion Action
Video’s originally-obscure-enough-and-now-even-more-so American Beta/VHS print
(bearing the crudely computer-generated retitle of VIOLENT OFFENDER, plus a deceptive cover photo depicting a full-auto
machinegun mama who is nowhere to be seen in the movie itself) claimed it was
“based on a true story”, as does the cover to the new Blu-ray edition in
similar fashion. Be that as it may, one of the few immediately recognizable
names in the credits belongs to Italian musicman Francesco de Masi (1930-2005),
who composed the garage/funky fuzztone guitar-and-brass score, which is highly
ear-pleasing indeed, for the most part, if a tad bit blaringly overbearing in
some scenes. Not specifically credited by name on Scorpion’s transfer print is the
movie’s Italo-end co-producer Fernando di Leo (1932-2003), who – as every
Italocrime buff worth his Beretta should be well aware – is also known as one
of the genre’s top directors (whose arguable pièces de resistance—all dating from 1971-73—are THE ITALIAN
CONNECTION, THE BOSS and CALIBER 9, just in case you don’t know;
his 1977 Jack Palance starrer MR.
SCARFACE ain’t too shabby none neither, even if it is generally considered
to be a “lesser” work in the filmmaker’s canon). Di Leo’s usual outfit Cineproduzioni
Daunia 70 – which he co-owned with Armando Novelli, and under whose banner most
of di Leo’s directorial outings were produced – functioned as the
minority-interest Italian production company hereon.
Seasoned rounder Heinz Klett (big, hairy
and macho Raimund Harmstorf [1939-1998], who at times evokes a shaggier, meaner
Chuck Norris looks-wise, if only when he keeps his big-lensed ’70s-style shades
on) escapes from police custody under the pretense of taking a dump in the
courthouse toilet (“It’s the lousy food you serve,” he complains to one of his guards.
“The junk’s givin’ me the shits!”). A
boorish brute (a.k.a. [quote] “vulgar beast!” or “dirty pig!”) who, amongst
other far more obnoxious traits, seems to derive intense pleasure from
providing way too much information
about things people would rather not hear about at all, Heinz subsequently explains
in another of his many scatological-themed outbursts, “I gotta take it easy on
my hemorrhoids!” Aptly enough considering what an utter turd he is, he utters
the word “shit” numerous times during the course of the movie (e.g., “…we don’t
give a shit!”).
Having been sprung by his accomplice under
cover of a diversion and now on the lam, hurly-burly Heinz hides-out at an
abandoned warehouse with his loyal partner-in-crime, an Italian named Luigi
Belloni (Gianni Macchia, who later appeared opposite Joe Dallesandro in di
Leo’s not-quite-as-scummy-but-close MADNESS
[1980]), along with Luigi’s weak-willed, clingy and ultra-dependent girlfriend,
Helen Hofbauer (whose first name was “Heidi” on German prints; played by Christine
Böhm). Also shortly showing up is her brother Christian (Amadeus August), a
German army deserter accused of manslaughter in the unwitting (?) death of his bullying
drill sergeant (“He spilled half his brains on the table when he fell…”). This Aryan
blond prettyboy impresses Klett (whose surname Christian’s Anglo voice-dubber
at one point pronounces much akin to “Clit”!) with his military-trained unarmed
combat skills, and is promptly invited to join the gang on their proposed job:
pulling off a bigtime Munich bank heist to the tune of a cool million Deutschmarks.
In preparation for this caper, Heinz and
associates rip-off machineguns and hand grenades from the then-still-occupying
American Army, no less (lest we forget, BLOODY
FRIDAY was made two decades prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall, so
Germany at the time was still firmly divided into two sections: the Democratic
West and Communistic East. [History lesson over!]). Occurring out in the
picturesque Bavarian countryside, a rather too lifeless car chase – whose
lethargic listlessness is put to shame by those seen in most 100% Italian crime
dramas of the ’70s – follows, enlivened only when an innocent passing bicyclist
is dragged for about a half-mile by the villains’ speeding (okay, coasting) getaway car, with a Polizei VW bug in “hot” (!) pursuit
going at a snail’s pace, its siren wailing away feebly, like its battery might
be running low. Let’s just say that judicious under-cranking of the camera
(i.e., fast-motion photography) might have injected some much-needed velocity
and energy into this frankly rather sluggish sequence. Dressed in blood-red
hoods, the heavily-armed robbers then burst into the target bank; all exits are
sealed-off when the manager sounds the alarm. Hostages are taken, and a stalemate
ensues. Things turn ugly when a brave (read: stupid!) policeman selflessly protects the general public by
hurling himself onto a stray live grenade… even though not a single person
other than himself is anywhere in its proximity! (The literally miles of wide-open empty space around
this needlessly self-sacrificing cop – whose act of apparent heroism may
possibly have been suicidally motivated? – is all the more obvious in
wider-screened prints!) This amounts to the goriest scene in the movie and, while
seldom overly convincing, “blood” flows freely throughout, even if it does
mostly just look like bright red paint, splattered willy-nilly. A
million-dollar ransom and getaway car are demanded to ensure the surviving
hostages’ release. For added security – as well as to provide temporary love
interest for August’s fatalistic Christian character, who soon realizes that
romance isn’t in his immediate future – the fleeing fugitives take Marion
Lotzmann (guest starlet Gila von Weitershausen), the pretty daughter of a multimillionaire
industrial magnate, along for the ride; a move which adds further complications
to a situation that’s more than over-complicated enough as it is.
As if he wasn’t already enough of a
walking – or rather, strutting/swaggering! – phallic symbol (“It is life that’s
made him so hard!” his bud Luigi sympathetically
exclaims), Harmstorf’s bomber-jacketed Heinz character further emphasizes his (ahem) ‘manliness’ by wearing skintight
black leather bellbottoms for the entirety of the narrative, even leaving them
on when he has sex. At one point during the hostage standoff, the camera zooms
in for an emphatic close-up of the well-armed-and-hung Heinz’s bulging pants crotch,
which seems to have at least two pairs of heavy woolen socks (possibly even
three) stuffed down it for extra padding. Just to reiterate what a mean
motherfucker he is, Heinz subsequently beats-up a blind old duffer, just for
kicks (pun intended). Action soon slows to a crawl – if thankfully not a
complete standstill – when plentiful superficial ‘tense psychological drama’
arises between interacting robbers / victims, the latter of whose ranks are
filled with all the usual heist hostage stereotypes, or variations thereof.
After their wheels get delivered by the authorities, Heinz & Co. hit the
getaway trail with hostages in tow, Hungary-bound. Cops follow by means of a handy-dandy
tracking device, and poor Luigi winds up getting badly chewed-up and
potentially infected with rabies by a police attack dog that mistakes him for a
sack of Puppy Chow.
During another lull, Heinz decides it’s
time to molest one of the hostage females – or, to use his terminology, “broad”
– namely Dagmar Neuss (Daniela Giordano, another representative of the film’s
“Italian connection”); first treating her to that aforementioned intimate
perspective of his bulging black-leather codpiece… which is about all the
‘foreplay’ she gets. In what is undoubtedly the film’s grimiest sequence, their
‘love’ (i.e., rape) scene is symbolically double-exposed over real-life footage
of slaughterhouse workers butchering livestock: pigs’ throats are slit from ear
to ear to drain-off their blood; a severed cow’s head also figures prominently.
Confusing editing invests an hallucinatory, abstract and unsettling tone. This
short superimposed montage also incorporates fleeting, indistinct XXX sexual
imagery which seems to have been spliced in from some porno loop. [This is original footage shot by the film's DP Franz X. Lederle. - DC]. For its sheer
audacity if nothing else, this comparatively depraved passage very nearly
compensates for all of BLOODY FRIDAY’s
previous slow stretches. The carnage-juxtaposed-with-carnality angle is not
exactly original, but it is viscerally effective in its own queasy way and adds
another even grimier onion later to the sordid proceedings. In the afterglow,
Heinz gloats over his understandably disgusted, unresponsive victim – “Now
there’s no question you’re a lesbian, is there? You’re just a piece of shit!” – whereupon, no sooner has he
tucked the, um, ‘freshly-sated’ Mr. Happy back inside his leathers than he up
and strangles her to death, just for extra spite (hey, we don’t make ’em, we just report ’em, okay?!).
The hysterical pre-climax utilizes such
guaranteed crowd pleasers as accidental fratricide, projectile vomiting and
much irresponsible firearms usage. Waves of armed police converge on the
isolated mountain cabin where the fugitives have holed-up. A sometimes slo-mo BONNIE AND CLYDE-influenced massacre
rounds out the jolly proceedings as Christian, Heinz and Helen (who’s long since
become impregnated with the late Luigi’s bastard bambino!) are mowed-down in a hail of chattering 9mm Uzi machine-pistol
fire. Regardless of all its preceding unapologetic mean-spiritedness – for
which it deserves some credit for not playing hypocritically coy about its most
exploitative elements – this flick actually closes with a moralistic quote
accredited to none other than… Napoléon Bonaparte (of all people): “Crime is as contagious as the pest. No one
can commit one without having to pay for it.” Remember that, you
slimeballs! (Even if I do strongly suspect that something may have gotten lost
in translation.)
If nothing else, this movie is worth
seeing for its sheer obscurity value; and dubiously of note for exactly three
(3) uses of the word “cunt” in a potentially misogynistic context (although,
these days more than ever, I am reticent to slap such trendy PC catchwords as
“misogyny” or derivatives thereof on things, being as such terms have oftentimes
been thrown around so irresponsibly and inappropriately as to become virtually
meaningless anyway). In summation, on basis of its scuzzy, spuzzy crimeslime
elements alone, I’d have to give BLOODY
FRIDAY an enthusiastic – if somewhat
guilty – Two Thumbs Up. However, in terms of pure entertainment value, it
sustains only intermittent interest, typically on basis of its scuzziness alone…
which has just got to stand for something, right? That said, the new Blu
edition makes it waaaayyy easier on
the eye than it’s ever been before, so fans of the (ahem) “art” form should be pleased.
Versions of various runtimes have been
released in different markets over the years, including shortened cuts at 97, 95,
93, 91 and 88 minutes duration. No less than three (!) different versions of the film are included in Subkultur Entertainment’s
new German Blu-ray/DVD edition, about which we provide you with ample details
below.
Although released
theatrically – if a few years belatedly – as BLOODY FRIDAY by Sunset International Films and Danton Films in
both the U.S. and Canada, respectively, way back in the mid-’70s, Olsen’s film
was first released onto domestic home video in 1988 as VIOLENT OFFENDER via Scorpion Action Video’s long-since-discontinued
Beta/VHS cassette. Relatively early in
the DVD format’s history, Germany’s Best Entertainment disc edition represented
the film’s unimpressive digital debut, which was presented fullscreen and in
German only. However, in 2015, Subkultur
initiated a successful restoration campaign via Kickstarter, which resulted in
a vastly-improved – and completely
remastered – version of BLOODY FRIDAY,
which is now available in a jam-packed Blu-ray/DVD combo through them.
Issued as “Nr. 7” in Subkultur’s
continuing line of “Edition Deutsche Vita”
releases and as a Limited Collector’s Edition 2-disc Blu-ray – which was
briefly made available from Mondo Macabro, its stateside distributors – the
highlight of these particular editions is a previously-unseen “Extended Cut” of
the film, which runs 101m39s and is touted as being a “world premiere”. During their meticulous search for the best
materials to use, Subkultur inadvertently discovered a longer, unseen version
of the film, and thanks to their exhaustive efforts, these extra scenes were
then (quote) “seamlessly reintegrated into the movie.” Numerous extended dialogue scenes take up
much of the reinstated footage, including a longer scene at a gas station where
Luigi works involving one of his cantankerous customers (director Olsen himself
in an extended cameo), who berates immigrants and their (quote) “hots for money,
but not for work!” This longer version also restores several instances of
violence and gore, which is especially evident during the film’s rape scene,
which is nastier than usual (the level of nastiness varies depending on which
cut of BF you watch). In this
version, images of Heinz and Dagmar are not laid overtop of graphic imagery
from a slaughterhouse and explicit lesbian porn footage, but instead unspool as
separate sequences to better accentuate Heinz’s ‘brutal nature’ and Dagmar’s Sapphic
proclivity; an alternate edit which, ultimately, loses its subliminal/psychological
feel, but in some respects, it does come
across as that much more shocking.
Scanned in 4K from the
original negative, which was in dreadfully poor shape (more on that later),
it’s actually a small miracle that the film now looks as good as it does. Yes
indeed, Subkultur have truly outdone themselves! Shown in its proper 1.66:1 aspect ratio, this
new 1080p HD master is actually quite astounding to behold considering the sorry
state of the original film elements, and although it appears virtually picture-perfect,
it also maintains a highly filmic look apt to the celluloid medium. The DTS-HD MA Mono audio also sounds exceedingly
fine indeed, and comprises German, English and French language choices, along
with optional English and German subtitles, plus “partial subtitles in English
and French” for the extra scenes in the Extended Cut.
Extras on the first disc are
quite extensive, beginning with Sadi Kantürk’s “A Cold Day” (112m42s), a feature-length documentary – that runs
substantially longer than the longest cut of the actual film itself! – featuring
interviews with just about every last
still-living participant who was involved in BF’s production. The doc gets underway with details surrounding the
real-life bank robbery on which the scenario was based. On August 4th, 1971, Dmitri
Todorov and Hans Georg Rammelmayr stormed the Deutsche Bank on Prinzregentenstraße
in Munich, which, following a lengthy standoff, resulted in the death of one
hostage and Rammelmayr. In the film
itself, Heinz even talks about the robbery on Prinzregentenstraße, which adds a
degree of verisimilitude to many of the film’s over-the-top scenes, but in
Kantürk’s doc, Ursula Erber (who plays Irmgard, a bank employee) expresses her wish
that the film had been presented in a more realistic manner, opining that it’s
not (quote) “a valuable film concerning human matters” (!). However, Gianni Macchia states that director
Olsen was (quote) “very secure with his themes” and was also “very harsh and
direct” as a director. Macchia also
talks about how his initial involvement in the project came through Fernando di
Leo’s/Armando Novelli’s production company Daunia 70 (under which Macchia
appeared in di Leo’s aforementioned THE
ITALIAN CONNECTION the same year), who co-produced it along with Karl
Spieh’s prolific German outfit, Lisa Film.
For the record, this
incredibly thorough documentary also features further interviews with the
film’s unit manager, Otto Retzer; DP Franz X. Lederle; and actors Claudius
Casagrande (he played little Niki, the kid who finds the grenade!), Daniela
Giordano, Horst Naumann and Gila Von Weitershausen. The disc also includes two full-length audio
commentaries, beginning with film historians Christian Kessler and Pelle Felsch,
who go on to discuss all sorts of facts, including Olsen’s career and many of
his (quote) “journalistic sensation” films, as well as how German audiences
were not accustomed to (quote) “violence on this level.” They too can’t help but laugh at Harmstorf’s
exaggerated (quote) “handful in his leather pants!” Other topics include everything from
Lederle’s constantly moving camerawork to the unpreparedness of the local
police force at the time. It all amounts
to a great listen, which gives us an even greater appreciation of the film’s
controversial and (quote) “down-and-dirty” nature. In the second audio commentary, Daniela
Giordano and Italian journalist Giacomo di Nicolo talk about how she landed the role through her agency, and how, quite possibly, director Olsen saw her picture from an earlier Franz Antel movie, SEXY SUSAN SINS AGAIN (1968). They also touch on some of the differences between the Italian and German versions, and how Daniela had never even seen the final film until she bought it on Amazon a few years ago! They also go on to discuss many of her roles, including obscurities such as Natuk Baytan's KARA MURAT SEYH GAFFERA KARSI (1976) and that film's producer Zeljko Kunkera, and, although they discuss many aspects of the production, much of it also serves as a career overview, which comes as a nice surprise.
Additional disc extras
include “The Restoration of BLOODY
FRIDAY – Chronology of a Reconstruction”
(13m29s), an incredibly in-depth – and most
eye-opening indeed – look at the many setbacks and problematic issues the
restoration team encountered in their quest, including a look at previous
(quote) “home video masters” and the numerous prints they came across, which
were (quote) “not suitable for any kind of exploitation”; a then-and-now tour
of the film’s many German locations (9m37s); alternate English (“Bloody
Friday”), French (“Vendredi sanguinaire”) and textless openings; German,
English and French trailers; an impressive gallery of stills, posters and
promotional materials (9m48s), and a trailer gallery for other EDV titles,
including Roger Fritz’s THE BRUTES
(a.k.a. CRY RAPE, 1970) and
Christian Anders’ ROOTS OF EVIL
(1979).
On the second “Limited
Edition Exclusive Blu-ray”, the original theatrical version (96m42s) and the
Italian version (90m24s) are included.
Although still quite shocking, the German version is noticeably shorter,
a shortening which can be detected by a few noticeable jumps in the audio, while
the notorious rape scene has all the shocking imagery jumbled together and superimposed
over each other, resulting in a rather surreal effect. The Italian version entitled VIOLENZA
CONTRO LA VIOLENZA shortens numerous scenes of dialogue and bits of
violence, but also contains an entirely different take on the rape scene. In an obvious nod to Sam Peckinpah’s STRAW DOGS (1971), like Susan George in
that film, Dagmar also begins to ‘enjoy’ her torment in this alternately – and far-less-successfully-executed –
scene. Like the “Extended Cut”, the
German theatrical version is also derived from the same 4K master. It looks terrific, and contains the same DTS-HD
MA mono audio in German, English and French languages, with optional German and
English subtitles. Hard-matted to an
aspect ratio of 1.85:1 (as per the original Italian presentation of the film),
the Italian cut also looks excellent – outside of that alternate, inserted rape
scene – which was ‘reconstructed’ using the newly-remastered print, using the
film’s (quote) “old telecine as a guideline”.
As in the previous versions, the DTS-HD MA Mono audio is once again
available in German, English and French, but also includes an Italian language
option, which can be viewed with either German or English subtitles. The final extra is a brief ‘fragment’ of the original
non-remastered Italian version (3m15s), which is in truly awful shape, and really makes one appreciate that much more just how
much work and TLC went into the pristine restoration of this grottily unforgettable
example of Euro trash cinema.
