The Wish List: 'Underrated Sci-Fi' Edition

The cold and dark of the winter doldrums makes me want to retreat into my mind like Sam Lowry. Perhaps it's because I binged on some random sci-fi films last month, but I've been thinking about some underrated entries in the genre that deserve to be on my latest Wish List:

Looker (Michael Crichton, 1981)

If you're willing to accept the premise of a middle-aged, Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, portrayed by Albert Finney, as the film’s hero, you will be rewarded with a compelling conspiracy thriller beyond its time. Looker not only predicted deep fakes in media over forty years ago, but also presented the nefarious concept of subliminal messaging in television used to influence consumer behaviour and political decisions.

Looker is desperately in need of a remaster. The picture quality of the Warner Archive Blu-ray is far too grainy and the colours are flat. Arrow or Indicator would be ideal labels to restore the film, including inserting the famous deleted scene, featuring James Coburn, which provides crucial context to the plot.

The Hidden (Jack Sholder, 1987)

A gloriously 1980s sci-fi action film about an alien insect that crawls inside people and causing them to commit crimes, while blasting uptempo rock music. 

While The Hidden is frequently included in lists of underrated 1980s science fiction films, its status has largely remained unchanged. I revisited this film after noting its obvious inspiration for The Cat (1992) last month. Pleased to say that it has lost none of its appeal since first discovering it during my teens.

A film that would benefit with superior treatment from a label such as Vinegar Syndrome or 88 Films. 

Fortress (Stuart Gordon, 1992)

Admittedly, labelling this film underrated is tenuous, given its box office success and producing a sequel. However, pretty much anything directed by Stuart Gordon that isn't Re-Animator or From Beyond barely gets the same sort of physical media love as them. 

Set in a dystopian future, where having more than one child will get you a life sentence in a subterranean, maximum security prison, a remote explosive device in your stomach, and a cyborg Kurtwood Smith trying to steal your wife, Fortress is one one of the better movies to star Christopher Lambert where you needn't worry about him talking in a horrible Scottish accent. Pure B-movie entertainment, and a personal favourite amongst prison movie canon.

Fortress would make for a worthy release on 88 Films or Kino Lorber.

Beyond the Black Rainbow (Panos Cosmatos, 2010)

 

Given its abstract cinematography and deliberate slow-pacing, Beyond the Black Rainbow is more of a mood-driven experience than one with a traditional narrative. This gives it a certain pretentious art-house quality, for lack of a better description. However, its stunning retro-futuristic visual aesthetics make the feat of deciphering it, surprisingly worthwhile. It eventually treads into familiar slasher territory, too. That would explain why I find it so appealing.

Panos Cosmatos followed this film with the similarly experimental Mandy (2018), starring Nicolas Cage; another film that I adore.

Beyond the Black Rainbow would be a suitable release for a label like Second Sight, which knows a thing or two about curateing both modern cult films and traditional titles. 

The Platform (Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia, 2019)

I recently reviewed this allegorical film set within a dystopian brutalist prison. It is worth reiterating my profound impression of the film. While some scenes are very disturbing, it remains a captivating and challenging watch. Regrettably, its sequel was a significant disappointment and even undermined the original, to an extent.

Although a Netflix exclusive, The Platform was released on Blu-ray in Spain and Japan. These releases were not English-friendly. Therefore, the film is definitely in need of a Blu-ray release with English subtitles. Second Sight would be my pick to deliver the goods.

Underwater (William Eubank, 2020)

Similar to her former co-star Robert Pattinson, Kristen Stewart has starred in several films to distance herself from her association with the cultural ruin of the Twilight series. More recently, she starred in the enjoyable film Love Lies Bleeding (2024). My favourite example of this is Underwater, a science fiction thriller set at the bottom of the Mariana Trench with sea monsters. It might also be because K-Stew and Jessica Henwick wear skimpy underwear in it, too.

Sadly, this energetic, creature feature was caught up in the Covid kerfuffle. It's never received an official Blu-ray release in my region. Any of the aforementioned labels  would be a good distributor, to be honest. 

The Wish List: Part 9

Not done one of these for a while. Only three picks that deserve some boutique Blu-ray love this time around. It's the magic number. But seriously, though, it's because I can't be bothered to cover five this time. Still got PTSD doing that The Wicker Man review.

Blood and Roses (Roger Vadim, 1960)

After her tomb is disturbed by a fireworks display triggering an unexploded bomb, the ghost of vampire noblewoman Millarca Von Karnstein takes possession of her dead-ringer descendant Carmilla (Annette Stroyberg). Carmilla and Leopoldo (Mel Ferrer) might be a little more than just  'kissing cousins', but it's his fiancee, Georgia (Elsa Martinelli), which she finds herself thirsting for now. And so begins a potential affair between the two gorgeous babes while the odd servant gets bumped off.

Not the first adaptation of the most Frenchly named Irish man, Sheridan La Fanu's gothic novella, Carmilla, but it's perhaps the first to include its actual lesbian subtext; predating Hammer's own Karnstein films as well the ones from the European continent by almost a decade.

Roger Vadim had a great knack for casting beautiful women (notably those who married him) and making us think God created them, but boy is Stroyberg's acting equally as wooden as a stake in this. Still, both her and Martinelli (who wasn't married to Vadim) look like female perfection on film. It's all thanks to Claude Renoir's dreamily phantasmagoric cinematography, of course. Speaking of which, the film contains as an incredible dream sequence which may have inspired Tobe Hooper's terrifying window scenes from Salem's Lot (1979)

Caught this for the first time only just recently. While I find it baffling that any film with a less than 80 minutes run time still deems itself necessary to be a lethargically paced slow burner, I can't help but admire its innovative visual effects, as well as its mesmerising Bave-esque expressionism.

A high-definition upgrade is a must! It's an absolute sin that it's never been available on Blu-ray after all this time. Would be a perfect release by Radiance in between all the commie Italian movies and yakuza-themed snoozefests they constantly release.

 

The Ghoul (Freddie Francis, 1975)

Set in the roaring '20s, two middle-class British couples leave a party and do the most spontaneously bourgeois (therefore, entirely stupid) thing imaginable: race to Land's End in the middle of the night. Being a horror film and straying away from the basic premise of the light-hearted adventure comedy Genevieve (1951), things don't exactly go to plan. One way or another, they all end up on the premises of former clergyman, Doctor Lawrence (Peter Cushing). He also happens to keep his Hare Krishna cannibal son, locked up in the attic - the titular antagonist.

This has a great cast of recognisable actors. The Champions' Alexandra Bastedo and Hammer siren Veronica Carlson sporting a perm, rep the cult sirens department. The aforementioned Peter Cushing needs no introduction, similarly John Hurt is also great in this as a creepy caretaker. For trash hounds like myself, it's a real buzz to see the Ian MacCulloch in this before he became the quintessential Brit with a stiff upper lip and a comb over in various Italian horror movies.

Much like its other Tyburn Films brethren, Legend of the Werewolf (1974), that's also on a previous wish list and still unfulfilled, The Ghoul never even received the DVD treatment back in the day. Therefore, the only way to watch the film are the poor quality VHS rips uploaded on YouTube.

 

Near Dark (Kathryn Bigelow, 1987)

Small town farm boy Caleb Colton (Adrian Pasdar) unwillingly winds up joining a collective of vampires after falling for Madonna lookalike Mae (Jenny Wright). His sense of morality still prevails, however, which makes him yearn to be back on the farm with his father Loy (B-movie legend Tim Thomerson) and sister Sarah (Marcie Leeds). This might make him dead weight with his undead adoptive family, but he proves his worth after performing a daring rescue during a gunfight with the cops. 

Part neo-western and part vampire horror, Near Dark is a great example of how to blend two distinctively different genres into something uniquely entertaining. As a result, Near Dark is often put on the same podium with Fright Night (1985) and The Lost Boys (1987) as one of the greatest vampire flicks from the '80s.

The film also features a bunch of recognisable actors from the classic sci-fi sequel Aliens (1986), including, none other Bill Paxton; who essentially became the face of 1980s cinema for genre heads like myself. Paxton is unforgettable as the sadistic and utterly quotable vampire Severen. Also features the killer theme Fight at Dawn by Tangerine Dream and the best version of the song Fever, in my opinion.

Although Near Dark has already received the Blu-ray treatment, it's largely out of print and far too expensive to grab these days. Having been blown away with Second Sight's 4K UHD release of The Hitcher (1986), it's only right this gets a similar treatment (hopefully, by Second Sight too), and would make for an excellent double bill.

And that's your lot.

The Wish List: Part 8

I've struck it lucky a few times with these wish lists; even predicting distribution labels correctly.

Here are five more films which desperately need some well earned Blu-Ray or 4K UHD love.

The Creeping Flesh (Freddie Francis, 1973)

For a Tigon production, The Creeping Flesh has all the hallmarks of a Hammer horror film: the gothic Victorian setting; veterans of the legendary film company making up a significant portion of the cast and crew (Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee being the obvious examples), and of course a blood curdling monster which puts an entertaining spin on Charles Darwin's theories on evolution.

As far as Blu-Ray availability goes, The Creeping Flesh was released in 2017 as part of a three-pack by Mill Creek, which included Torture Garden (1967) and The Brotherhood of Satan (1971). The film quality is hardly exceptional, however. The other two films have been blessed since then with their own releases in superior picture quality and bonus features. This makes The Creeping Flesh even more wanting of some special high definition treatment.

The House with Laughing Windows (Pupi Avati, 1976)

Technically speaking, Pupi Avati's rural, slow burner has more in common with folk horror than it does with the sterotypical giallo. The House with Laughing Windows focuses on Lino Capolicchio's character being tasked with the restoration of a church fresco painting done by an insane artist. The film is laced with plenty of tension and dread throughout, culminating with a shockingly unforgettable ending. Which makes the film one of the more noteworthy films from the post-golden era of the giallo, not helmed by Dario Argento or Lucio Fulci.

As far as I'm aware, The House with Laughing Windows never received the Blu-Ray treatment anywhere in the world and it's definitely overdue for it. It's also one of the few remaining DVDs that I still own, since I haven't been able to replace it with a better version.

Cheerleader Camp AKA Bloody Pom Poms (John Quinn, 1988)

Another one of those '80s slashers that just as well falls into the giallo whodunnit formula as it does with the masked maniac on the loose. Cheerleader Camp is ludicrous with its premise of a summer camp for cheerleaders, which makes it difficult to take remotely seriously. However, its unapologetically low brow goofiness makes this quintessential late night viewing after you've had a few drinks. There's an abundance of T&A to compliment the blood spilled, which makes this somewhat precious considering the MPAA's crackdown on gore in horror films during this era. Lucinda Dickey better known as the possessed fitness instructor from Cannon's Ninja III: The Domination (1984) and the Breakin' movies (both of which from 1984), is one of the highlights in the film, the other is the numerous Playboy and Penthouse models being in it. However, what takes the bloody baton is the legendary B-movie actor Buck Flower not playing another hobo as usual.

Apart from a bootleg, there isn't a Blu-Ray of the film, which is crying shame as it's far more entertaining than some of the other late '80s slashers I've seen which have already received the boutique Blu-Ray treatment. This has Vinegar Syndrome written all over it.

5150 Elm's Way (Éric Tessier, 2009) 

A French-Canadian psychological horror about an innocent young lad held captive by a psychotic chess master and his family. His only chance of freedom is to beat his captor in a chess game. And so a lot of chess games ensue. Without spoiling the film, it leads to an unexpected outcome and one that I found rather unique. 

Being an end of the noughties film, 5150 Elm's Way is a classic example of those underrated films which fell through the cracks when DVD was gradually being replaced with Blu-Ray, so it never received the hi-def upgrade. Fingers crossed this gets picked up by a label like Radiance films or Second Sight.

No One Will Save You (Brian Duffield, 2023)

A virtually dialogue free alien invasion film. Hardly a new concept with the A Quiet Place franchise being so popular in recent years, but I'll gladly take the Pepsi Challenge and pick Brian Duffield's sci-fi gem over any of those other films. That's largely due to No One Will Save You reminding me of the classic The Twilight Zone's episode Invaders, along with an incredible performance from Kaitlyn Dever.

It's an absolute crime that the best film I watched in 2023 is still not available to buy on physical home media. Instead, you have be subscribed to HULU just to watch it. Still, some films from the company such as the mediocre Prey (2022) managed to get a physical release, and for this reason I'm cautiously optimistic it'll happen to a far more deserving film like this.

Liberator Liberated

Blake's 7 (Season One Trailer)

Various, 1978

Another Dada Debaser wish come true! Terry Nation's sci-fi series Blake's 7 (1978-1981) is receiving some blu-ray love from the BBC this autumn, according to a recent announcement. At least... the first series is.

Truthfully; I never saw it really happening on account of infinitely more popular BBC programmes like Porridge (1974-1977) and Open All Hours (1976-1985)  still only being available on DVD format.

Other films sprinkled with the Dada Debaser magic dust are listed below, along with the respective labels which released them:

Freaks - Criterion

Blood Sucking Freaks - Vinegar Syndrome

After Hours - Criterion

Evil Dead Trap 2: Hideki - 88 Films

A Gun for Jennifer - Vinegar Syndrome

The Wish List: Gogglebox Edition

Not done one of these wish lists in a long while and this is a good opportunity to shine some light on  a few vintage television shows I've been meaning to watch. Trouble is, they're either not available to stream or they're hard to cop on blu-ray. It would take forever noting every television series that I consider worthy of some blu-ray love, but the ones listed below always seem to be recurring in my mind the most.

Blake's 7 (Various, 1978 - 1981)

Considering how Terry Nation, the writer for some of the most revered episodes from the longest ever sci-fi series Doctor Who (1963 - 2024), is so universally praised by fans, it's a huge shame that his own BBC creation, Blake's 7 (1978 - 1981), isn't even available on iPlayer. Other than the Liberator spaceship which looks like it might have been kitbashed with a microphone, and the few clips online of Paul Darrow's anti-hero swagger as Kerr Avon, I can barely remember much of the series other than the very last notes of its theme reminding me a little of Boogie Down Productions' song Illegal Business. The downbeat last episode is still to this very day a controversial subject matter amongst its fans, but that only proves how seriously passionate they still are for a show which ended over forty years ago.

EDIT: Had no idea Terry Nation wrote the story for one of my favourite Hitchcockian thrillers And Soon the Darkness (1970) until making this post.

The Mad Death (Robert Young, 1983)

A rabies outbreak ocurring in the UK appeared to be a real threat back in the day. It was signicant enough for the government to issue warnings over it, including terrifying public information films throughout the seventies and eighties. The 1994 opening of the Channel Tunnel must have been pure fear for some viewers familiar with the BBC mini-series The Mad Death (1983) which aired a decade earlier. Based on a book by Nigel Slater (yes, the poncey food journo and presenter), the TV adaptation was a disturbing drama focused on a potential outbreak. Much like the classic made for television, nuclear holocaust film, Threads (1984), it did not hold back in shocking viewers. If the chilling opening titles weren't enough to leave you in a state of unease, then keep watching for scenes of a child being mauled by rabid dogs, foaming patients dying in their hospital beds, and the brutal culling of man's best friend. For a nation of pet lovers this was considerably shocking for prime time TV.

Hammer House of Mystery and Suspense (Various, 1984)

Kind of funny how so many Hammer fans have a fond memory for its first television outing Hammer House of Horror (1980), but another series repping the moniker, known as Hammer House of Mystery and Suspense (1984) is so largely obscure. That's no fault of their own as its ridiculously hard to find these days without shelling out serious money for an old tobacco tainted DVD collectionm on eBay. "In Possession" is the only episode I remember with some clarity as it contains one of the best twist endings I had ever witnessed in any medium (right up there with Charlton Heston finding the Statue of Liberty, in my opinion). It's too bad Network Releasing went under as this would have been the perfect accompaniment to their fine blu-ray release of Hammer House of Horror.

Dead Set (Yann Demange, 2008)

Dead Set was the brainchild of cultural satirist and Black Mirror creator, Charlie Brooker. Ingeniously captiialising on the popularity of the reality series Big Brother, the mini-series managed to buck the oversaturated landscape of the zombie renaissance by offering some hilarious British social commentary and some of the goriest scenes for a television series at the time. The irony of what's probably the last living humans on the planet are Big Brother housemates was part of its appeal. Dead Set also featured Davina McCall, a former presenter of Big Brother, being one of my fave zombies on screen. It's criminal how this was only ever released on DVD in its home country, but available on blu-ray in both Germany and Spain. Craving this like brains.

The Wish List: Criterion Edition

Fair to say that 2023 was one of the best years for physical media since the COVID-19 lockdowns. It was also the year which redeemed Criterion, the label of choice for annoying cinephiles. Personally, I've always found its reputation as the curator of the crème de la crème in film pompously pretentious, but its 4K releases of Martin Scorsese's After Hours and Tod Browning's Freaks earned it some positive points from me after its censoring of William Friedkin's The French Connection on its streaming channel.

And so, here are six films (I ended up doing one extra by mistake and spent too long writing it to delete it, but I'll pretend it was intentional) which would further elevate my approval of the "prestigious film label" by simultaneously catering to degenerates such as myself and its horrible fanbase consisting of poncey snobs: 

The Sadist (James Landis, 1963)

How is Critierion going to have Terrence Malick's Badlands (1973) and not include the film which started the trend for murderous psycho couples?  James Landis's The Sadist is a shocking film, laced with levels of nihilistic violence that feels well ahead of its time. If that's not enough, it's blessed with stupendous levels of suspense and tension to satisfy the Hitchcock crowd, too. The Sadist might fall under the juvenile deliquency umbrella of exploitation cinema, but it definitely deserves to be evaluated as a legitimately finely honed thriller by all the kino heads. One of my favourite discoveries from last year.

Looking for Mr. Goodbar (Richard Brooks, 1977)

Admittedly, I haven't watched this film since catching it on TV sometime in the mid-eighties, therefore, I really don't know how well it holds up today, but I do remember being intrigued by it. Also, I’m convinced the LL Cool J song serves more as a reference to the film than the actual candy bar of the same name. I do remember the ending being unexpectedly brutal, however. Diane Keaton plays a goody two shoes school teacher by day, who rebels against her strict Catholic upbringing by getting involved with various dodgy blokes in smokey bars at night. Apparently, the film forever changed bar culture by women no longer commonly frequenting watering holes alone It's a shame the film is out of print after casting such a spot light on the perils of hooking-up.

Nineteen Eighty-Four (Michael Radford, 1984)

How weird is it that so many words and phrases originating from George Orwell's classic dystopian nightmare have made it into the English lexicon, and yet, you can barely find Michael Radford's adaptation of it anywhere? A real shame, as it's not only amongst the best British films to have come out during the eighties, but it also boasts the last great performance of the legendary Richard Burton along with John Hurt's brilliant portrayal of protagonist Winston Smith. Nineteen Eighty-Four has been released by Criterion in the US, but it's way too expensive to import it over here, sadly.

Man Bites Dog (Rémy Belvaux, Benoît Poelvoorde & André Bonzel, 1992)

Unlike the August Underground trilogy, this is how the cinéma vérité style should be when realising serial killer(s) on film. Man Bites Dog accomplishes a remarkable feat by simultaneously having me laughing and being disturbed by it. It's an entertaining mockumentary where a roaming film crew become complicit accomplices with their subject matter, a Beligian serial killer. It's a powerful commentary on film violence and how we're desensitised by it. A criminally forgotten film today which had a lot of contoversy upon its release with the tabloid press screaming for it to be banned.

Fresh (Boaz Yakin, 1994)

Thankful for Criterion having released Deep Cover (1992) as it has aged remarkably well today; working well as both a nineties neo-noir and as part of the collective of rapsploitation films which were common during that era. Boaz Yakin's Fresh is another film worthy of the same treatment, as it also straddles the thin line of typical rapsploitation and NY indie cinema. The film contains an impressive cast, which includes Giancarlo Esposito, Samuel L. Jackson and the best child actor since Fool from The People Under the Stairs (1991). Fresh follows the same plot template as Yojimbo (1961), A Fistful of Dollars (1964) and The Warrior and the Sorceress (1984) as they're all based on Dashiell Hammett's novel, Red Harvest.

The Chaser (Na Hong-jin, 2008)

Much like that saying about cunninlingus: for everyone who won't, there's someone who will. South Korean cinema has risen in popularity due to American films not being able to or unwilling to make films they were once lauded for. Na Hong-jin's debut is a fantastic film which feels like the missing link between Old Boy (2003) and I Saw the Devil (2010); that already puts it in good company. It's a shame it doesn't get the appreciation it deserves as it one of the shining offerings which really put Korean cinema on the map for me in the noughties.

Couldn't care less which label releases these films on blu-ray; I just care about making these films easier to get hold of, in all honesty. As mentioned earlier, I don't agree with the echochamber of Criterion being the purveyors of great cinema; they're more of a status label more than anything else, but having more films like the ones listed above might have me improving my opinion on the label.

The Wish List: 'You Ain't Seen Me, Right?' Edition

We've reached that time of the year where folks like to flex their favourite/best horror films for content. Guessing late game Gen X’ers and millennials are feeling nostalgic since the latest meta is on horror's lost decade - the 1990s. Too lazy for all that palava, although it does remind me of some glaring films I've yet to see before even entertaining the very notion of a nineties horror list.

I've been either ignorantly unaware of the following films, or have found them just too elusive to track down:

Baby Blood (Alain Robak, 1990)

This early nineties French horror actually aired in the noughties on UK TV as part of a season dedicated to banned films, which included infamous titles like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) and Salo (1975) on the roster. Alain Robak's Baby Blood is about an ancient demonic parasite dwelling in a woman's womb and forcing her kill inorder to feed its need for blood. This has Second Sight release written all over it since feminist film critics and Kotaku journalists have embraced the hustle of writing film essays for overpriced limited edition boutique film releases.

The Reflecting Skin (Philip Ridley, 1990)

Philip Ridley's southern gothic really piqued my interest for actually appearing as a serious film rather than the dime a dozen, straight-to-video trash around at the time. Other than how gorgeous The Reflecting Skin looks, I'm keen to see it largely because Viggo Mortensen's performances in horror films tend to be really fun to watch and elevate films like Prison (1987) and Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III (1990) more than they deserve to be. I can see this being released by Arrow Films or possibly even Criterion.

Evil Dead Trap 2: Hideki (Izô Hashimoto, 1992)

Huge fan of Toshiharu Ikeda's slasher meets body horror mash-up Evil Dead Trap (1988). Watching that film and you can see the obvious influences of Dario Argento and David Cronenberg. I couldn't tell you how the sequel fares, however, as I only knew about its existence earlier this year when Unearthed Films released it on blu-ray. Sadly, they're in the States, and importing anything these days has become way too costly in recent times. Fingers crossed a domestic label like 88 Films might take a stab at releasing the J-Horror sequel over here.

Nadja (Michael Almereyda, 1994)

Mid-nineties, monochrome vampire flicks set in New York City are like waiting for a 29 bus as both Nadja and Abel Ferrara's The Addiction (1995) both arrived around the same time. It might lack the hilarity of Onyx's Fredro Starr being in it, but it does have the eccentric director David Lynch amongst its cast and features two Portishead bangers on its soundtrack, which instinctively tells me I'll be cranking my head to and fro like an epileptic headbanger even if it is some emo vampire shite. This potentially might be the type of art house horror that Marc Morris and Jake West over at Nucleus Films could release. Bound to be better than West's very own God-awful blood sucker film Razor Blade Smile (1998), innit?

Tesis AKA Thesis (Alejandro Amenábar, 1996)

Serious 8mm (1999) vibes in this Spanish mystery horror about a snuff film discovered on a university campus by a film student. Written and directed by the same bloke who gave us what's arguably one of Nicole Kidman's best films, The Others (2001), along with writing her midget ex's Vanilla Sky (2001), this has me yearning to find out if Tesis is any good. I can't find this film anywhere, however. Considering Radiance Films have released another dark themed Spanish film from the nineties recently, I'm praying the company might do the same for this.

In summary, taking into account these are all unwatched, there's no real guarantee if these films are any good or not. What is a certainty is these titles fitting this blog's film tastes to a tee, making them ripe picks for the wish list.

The Wish List: ‘Dirty New Yorker’ Edition

Another edition of first world problems. Instead of adding completely random picks for the growing Dada Debaser Wish List, here are five grubby films set in New York City which prove the Big Apple really was the Rotten Apple.

Blood Sucking Freaks (Joel M. Reed, 1976)

Out of print for years and and it's one of the few Troma films I would even bother getting. Gutted. If you've never seen it, chances are you've still heard of Blood Sucking Freaks, or The Incredible Torture Show if we want to call it by its original title. A cheap and scuzzy seventies exploitation horror with a title that's synonymous with film pop culture and beyond.

Crammed with enough grotesque scene to repulse and offend most people, it's no surprise it became the scorn of many a film critic. Despite its nastiness, it effectively hits the mark with its satirical take on pretentious theatre art. The Grand Guignol theme is bang on. Master Sardo and Ralphus are the Mr. Roarke and Tattoo of New York depravity.

From severed tongues to Native Tongues, it must have struck a chord with the legendary rap group De La Soul as it's Plug One's favourite Troma movie and Prince Paul sampled dialogue from it, too.

Ms .45 (Abel Ferrara, 1981)

Could probably list a few other Abel Ferrara films which deserve the HD treatment too, but I've always been torn between Ms .45 and The King of New York (1990) as my favourite Ferrara film, and the latter is already available as a gorgeous 4K release from Arrow Video. Hopefully, Ms .45 receives similar treatment.

Huge fan of vigilante films, but rape revenge thrillers; a category which can often result into an uncomfortable viewing experience, even for a desensitised film head like your host, are tough to revist with more frequency. Despite it hitting like a sledgehammer, Ferrara's vigilante flick is a surprisingly more palatable offering in comparison to a film like I Spit on Your Grave (1978).

Drugs really destroyed the film's lead, Zoë Lund as I bearly recognised her when she appeared in Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant (1992).

Paid the price in avoiding an import blu-ray, thinking it would eventually be released on these shores. It never did, sadly.

C.H.U.D. (Douglas Cheek, 1984)

Chud might be a cringe-worthy word thrown around by the terminally online, but I'll always associate it as the acronym for Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers. 

Love subterranean themed horror films and C.H.U.D. is one of the more popular efforts. It's like a portal to another world when it takes the viewer through a trip down below.

Other than the great creature effects, the film also sports a cast of actors who would eventually become recognisable names, like John Heard, Daniel Stern and John Goodman.

Can you believe C.H.U.D. has never been released on blu-ray in my region yet, but C.H.U.D. II: Bud the C.H.U.D. (1989) has?

After Hours (Martin Scorsese, 1985)

How is the only HD release I could find of Martin Scorsese's dark comedy After Hours an expensive Spanish blu-ray? Surely one of the greatest directors around today would garner interest from distribution labels fighting one another over any of his films to release. Guessing there's a licensing problem, or it's just to expensive. Either way, it's a huge shame there hasn't been a worthy release of this film more readily available. 

This might be the only film I've seen with Griffin Dunne in anything other than An American Werewolf in London (1981). It's also the time where I've yelled at the screen at him for failing to get off with either Rosanna Arquette and Linda Fiorentino.

After Hours has Criterion release written all over it. 

A Gun for Jennifer (Todd Morris, 1997)

NYC feminists waging war on toxic males in a gory vigilante flick from the nineties are far more appealing than compared to the various heroines featured in today's acclaimed #metoo films. Personally, I see the violent femmes in A Gun for Jennifer as the spiritual daughters of Jennifer Hills from I Spit on Your Grave (1978), which makes them a lot cooler than Jodie Foster's unconvincing stint as a New York vigilante in The Brave One (2007).

Deborah Twiss turned up as Mrs. Zane, the teacher from Kick-Ass (2010). She's the only recognisable person in this film.

A Gun for Jennifer is a prime pick to get a lavish release by Vinegar Syndrome as it's a specialist in releasing top quality prints of trashy nineties films. Would forgo all that import shipping palaver and pre-order it in an instant.

EDIT:

Call me Costradamus! Criterion just announced a 4K/blu-ray release of After Hours the day after I made this blogpost.

It was written.

The Wish List: Part 3

Horror fans with fat wallets are no doubt drooling over Second Sight's upcoming lush releases of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) and Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975). Personally, I'm more excited over the rumour of  High Tension (2003) and Frontière(s) (2007) getting some much needed shine from the aforementioned label.

Here are five more genre films from the noughties that deserve some HD remastered love:

Creep (Christopher Smith, 2004)

Quasi-remake of Gary Sherman's subterranean cannibal horror, Raw Meat (1972), AKA Death Line. The concept of a person being terrorised and alone in the London Underground during the wee hours has always fascinated me ever since An American Werewolf in London (1981) and Creep is an entire film based on this premise. So much entertainment value seeing what might be going on below our very feet. Smith was on a great run between this film and Black Death (2010). A shame Creep is more commonly associated with the overrated found footage film released a decade later.

Cold Prey (Roar Uthaug, 2006) & Cold Prey 2 (Mats Stenberg, 2008)

Two for the price of one here. Can't speak for the third film in the series, AKA the eponymous sequel that's really a prequel as I never watched it. What I do know is that both films did a far better job, unofficially of course, in capturing the original terror of  the first two Halloween films than Rob Zombie's attempts ever did. These snowswept, Norwegian chillers are two perfect examples of golden age slasher throwbacks given a respectful contemporary update.

Ils AKA Them (David Moreau & Xavier Palud, 2006)

Consigned to the list of forgotten great Euro horror films of the noughties. Ils might may lack the necessary splatter to appease gorehounds, but it's packed to the rafters with enough suspense and dread to make it one of the best kiddie horror flicks from the noughties. Even New French Extrmity aficionados appear oblivious to its existence and it really does deserve a second life with a HD remaster.

P2 (Franck Khalfoun, 2007)

Another peak alternative Christmas film that nobody mentions because they're too busy regurgitating the same old "Die Hard is a Christmas movie" narrative ad nauseam to even know about P2. Khalfoun's film is a great little cat and mouse thriller that proves that New French Extremity film makers like Aja, who co-wrote P2, understood more about seventies and eighties horror thrillers than their Hollywood contemporaries. Great performances from Rachel Nichols and Wes Bentley make this a must watch. In hindsight, I should have included this in my Hitchcockian Thrillers post.

Pandorum (Christian Alvart, 2009)

This was one of my favourite older film discoveries from last year. The fault really does fall upon me since I originally dismissed it as some bog standard Dennis Quaid vehicle when it first came out. Had any notable film critic mentioned Pandorum would be this dark and cerebral science fiction film, then I would have checked it out much sooner. Unfortunately, much like every other movie listed here, there hasn't been a worthy remastering ever since its initial home format release over a decade ago. That's a huge shame, in my opinion. 

There are a wealth of films from the noughties that seem to be caught in some kind of limbo while sandwiched between the nostalgia interest of previous decades and the more recent fondness for the 2010s; it sadly feels like a forgotten period, in my opinion. My monthly viewings posts somewhat proves this, unfortunately.

Dada Debaser Bonus: Speaking of the noughties, while listening to a film podcast this month, I discovered that Carter Smith, the director of the rather fun and gory The Ruins (2008), also helmed S Club 7's music video Reach. Mind blown!

The Wish List: Part 2

The return of a film junkie's first world problems. Here are another five films that need to be rescued from red tape limbo and into our loving blu-ray players:

Freaks (Tod Browning, 1932)

It boggles the mind that She-Freak, a 1967 semi-obscurity can get a beautiful blu-ray transfer from the American Genre Film Archive (AGFA), while the very film that inspired it, and a multitude of other carnival based horror for that matter, Freaks, languishes unwanted. Tod Browning's classic is still considered shocking to this day by some individuals, which makes it all the more remarkable considering it's now ninety years old. So why then, does a film of this historical significance seem cursed like Olga Baclanova's Cleopatra?

The Devils (Ken Russell, 1971)

If ever a film has fallen victim to censorship by its own studio, it's Ken Russell's The Devils, a progenitor to the wave of depraved nunsploitation films which ran rampant in the seventies. Prayers seemed to be answered in 2012, when the BFI announced a lavish release through Warner Bros. It turned out to be a case of the monkey's paw, however, since not only were fans of the film denied a high definition print, but it was still a censored cut version. Regarded amongst film critics as on of the greatest British films, it's tragic that the only way to watch a complete version of The Devils is via a bootleg copy. It's farcical how a film which is half a century old, still receives this much contempt from its studio owner.

From Beyond the Grave (Kevin Connor, 1974)

It really ought to be a punishable offence whenever From Beyond the Grave gets relegated by brainlets as one of the lesser Amicus portmanteaus. Not only is it factually incorrect, but it's probably one of the strongest entries from Milton Subotsky and Max Rosenberg's legendary production studio. Blessed by a killer wraparound with Peter Cushing as the creepy owner of Temptations Ltd, an antique shop where any rotten sort who tries to rob or con his way to obtain its wares gets their just desserts. These stories include: "The Gate Crasher", with the recently passed away David Warner, enslaved to a ghastly apparition in a mirror; "An Act of Kindness", where Ian Bannen befriends an ex-serviceman matchbox seller played by Donald Pleasence; "The Elemental", the weakest and tonally inconsistent story in the film; and, "The Door", which serves as a portal to a mysterious blue room. The film is spellbinding throughout, and much like The Devils, it has fallen under a similar fate by Warner Bros. A bare bones release made its way under the Warner Archive umbrella. A film of this wonderful calibre really does deserve some beauty treatment akin to what the label Second Sight has done in recent years with other Amicus horror anthologies; namely The House that Dripped Blood (1971), and Asylum (1972).

Braindead (Peter Jackson, 1992)

Remember when Peter Jackson made great movies back in the day? This blogger does. The Antipodean yo-yo dieter helmed three fantastically grotesque films at the start of his directorial career, before he got too serious for my liking. Braindead, his third film is easily his magnum opus to splatterfest comedy. It's shameful how this film that celebrates its thirtieth anniversary this year hasn't received the beauty treatment it deserves by any of the boutique labels around. Obviously, it's not their fault, since the film has been caught up with licensing issues. Like Positive K, I'm not trying to hear that, see! Braindead was one of the shining lights during the decade that saw the horror genre go largely underground, and therefore deserves an unabashed loving high definition release today.

The Night Comes for Us (Timo Tjahjanto, 2018)

If history has taught us anything, it's that we're doomed to repeat the same mistakes again and again. Film normies unaware of the The Raid franchise, and its impact on gruesomely kinetic fight choreography echoed the West's tradition of blissfully ignoring the heroic bloodshed movies from yesteryear. To Netflix's credit, it managed to tap into the modern rise of Indonesian action films, with the savagely gory The Night Comes for Us. Alas, Netflix having a mostly shite library of films doesn't justify a monthly subscription, from yours truly. So why then, do films exclusive to the streaming site like Uncut Gems (2019), The Irishman (2019) and the highly overrated Roma (2018) get home format physical releases by a hipster label like Criterion, whilst this powerhouse of bonecrunching visceral entertainment remain ignored? 

Ought to add here that at the time of writing Freaks got a placeholder announcment via Warner Archive (gutted!), therefore a possible release might be on the cards this year. Also, my original fifth choice - Christos Nikou's Apples (2021) is getting a proper release today! Today! Unbelievable!

The Wish List

Being the Easter weekend, a time when many of the boutique blu-ray labels have a sale going on, I finally broke my new year's resolution and spunked way too much cash on films that will probably wind up spending the rest of the year in the unwatched pile. Other than the threat of Casa de Spartan being renamed the Fortress of Solitude if this crazy spending spree ever happens again, it did have me pondering on possible movies I would love to see getting a home format release, so here are five titles that would make my wallet cry even further:

White Slaves of Chinatown (Joseph P. Mawra, 1964)

The first and best of the Olga franchise, White Slaves of Chinatown is up there with the likes of This Is Spinal Tap (1984) and Cannibal Holocaust (1980) as far as fake documentary films go. The spiritual predecessor to the infamous Ilsa movies of the seventies, it's somewhat neglected in this day and age. Audrey Campbell plays the main character Olga Sarno as she tortures abducted women off the New York streets and forces them into a life of prostitution and drug addiction. This mondo style S&M roughie is absolutely hilarious and is just begging for a quality blu-ray release. This has AGFA + Something Weird Video written all over it.

 

Garter Colt (Gian Rocco, 1968)

Whether this film is good or not, beats the hell out me, because I haven't even seen it. However, this obscure spaghetti western has two striking things about it that makes it distinctive from the rest of its peers: the main protagonist is a female, which is rare as hell for a spaghetti western; the other? It's Nicholetta Machiavelli. Yup, one of the most beautiful women to ever grace the silver screen. Your humble film freak still gets mesmerised by how smoking hot she looked dressed in a potato sack opposite Burt Reynolds in Sergio Corbucci's Navajo Joe (1966). As far as I'm aware, there hasn't really been a quality English friendly release of Garter Colt and I refuse to watch a 360p rip of it on YouTube, but this looks like something Eureka would release, no question.

Legend of the Werewolf (Freddie Francis, 1975)

Believe it or not, werewolf films are a genuine rarity; great ones are once in a blue moon. Almost wept that one and only time I went to the cinema and watched that horrificly awful sequel An American Werewolf in Paris (1997). Why on earth then, does one of the great ones remain a obscure rarity that never even got a proper remaster for its DVD release let alone on blu-ray. Legend of the Werewolf is a cautionary tale of a young lad falling head over heels for the local Parisian strumpet and the obvious carnage that ensues along the way. Perfect fit for a label like Network to release one day.

The Alex Chandon Collection (1988 - 1998)

In the early nineties, during my carefree days of spending my freetime in a dingy small basement in Camden Town with the staff and fellow patrons of Psychotronic Video, I happened to discover the amateur films of Alex Chandon there. Genuinely thought this North Londoner would end up being the next big name in genre cinema after Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson. His SOV short films, particularly Bad Karma (1991) and Drillbit (1993) were heaps of fun and refreshing alternative to the mainstream blockbuster. Particularly a fan of Pervirella (1997), a homage to the Ray Harryhausen movies of yesteryear, featuring TV stalwarts Mark Lamarr and Jonathan Ross, with cult sirens Eileen Daly and Emily Booth as the titular heroine. Didn't really care for Chandon's work after that period, however. His early films are crying out for a release by an SOV specialist label like Saturn's Core.

The Strange Colour of Your Body's Tears (Hélène Cattet & Bruno Forzani, 2013)

Ask me to explain this film and I honestly wouldn't have the foggiest. It's so surreal, even Professor Brian Cox would categorise it as a Class A head scratcher. After Amer (2009), their first experimental effort which rode the late noughties renaissance wave of giallo cinema, Catte and Forzani's follow-up was an aesthetically beautiful and even more perplexing fever dream which never received a blu-ray release on these shores. It did in other regions, but as far as I'm aware, it lacked any substantial extras. The film is crying out for a lavish release, one that perhaps Arrow Films would fit the bill.

There are loads of others that I'll propably add in a possible future instalment, but this lot are personal examples of movies being neglected by today's boutique labels.