León Klimovsky: Horror Film Checklist

Something I've wanted to compile, this post lists all known horror films directed by legendary film-maker (and an underrated one in my opinion) León Klimovsky.  These are Spanish films although the man himself was Argentinian.  Eclectic in skills, León had made films in a number of genres outside of horror, particularly wars and westerns.

Note, the media release information provides the best known release to my knowledge, although some of these discs may no longer be in print.  Unfortunately, several of these (and many of his non-horrors) have never had a disc release, possibly not even a VHS in some cases, and may be lost forever.  Please contact me if you feel there are corrections to be made.

Fear and the Girl - 1964

    AKA Ella y el miedo

    Features May Heatherly, Virgilio Teixeira

    No known disc release

The Werewolf Versus the Vampire Woman - 1971

    AKA La Noche de Walpurgis, Werewolf Shadow

    Features Paul Naschy, Gaby Fuchs, Yelena Samarina

    Released on UHD Blu-ray (4K) by Vinegar Syndrome

Dr Jekyll Versus The Werewolf - 1972

    AKA Doctor Jekyll y el Hombre Lobo, Dr Jekyll and the Wolfman

    Features Paul Naschy, Shirley Corrigan, Jack Taylor, Mirta Miller

    Released on UHD Blu-ray (4K) by Mondo Macabro

Vengeance of the Zombies - 1973

    AKA La rebelión de las muertas, Rebellion of the Dead Women

    Features Paul Naschy, Maria Kosty, Mirta Miller

    Released on Blu-ray by BCI Eclipse and Scream Factory

Dracula Saga - 1973

    AKA La saga de los Drácula, Dracula: The Bloodline Continues

    Features Helga Liné, Maria Kosty, Tina Sáinz, Tony Isbert

    Released on DVD by BCI Eclipse

The Vampires' Night Orgy - 1973

    AKA La orgía nocturna de los vampiros, Orgy of the Vampires

    Features Jack Taylor, Helga Liné

    Released on Blu-ray by Code Red

The Devil's Possessed - 1974

    AKA El mariscal del infierno, Marshall of Hell

    Features Paul Naschy, Norma Sebre

    Released on Blu-ray by Scream Factory

Night of the Walking Dead - 1975

    AKA El extraño amor de los vampiros, The Strange Love of Vampires

    Features Emma Cohen, Viky Lussón, Carlos Ballesteros

    No known disc release

A Dragonfly for each Corpse - 1975

    AKA Una libélula para cada muerto, Red Killer

    Features Paul Naschy, Erika Blanc, Maria Kosty

    Released on Blu-ray by Scream Factory

The People Who Own The Dark - 1976

    AKA Último Deseo, Planeta ciego

    Features Nadiuska, Paul Naschy

    Released on Blu-ray by Code Red

Three Days in November - 1977

    AKA Tres días de noviembre

    Features Maribel Martín, Tony Isbert

    No known disc release

Trauma - 1978

    AKA Violación fatal

    Features Ágata Lys, Heinrich Starhemberg

    Released on Blu-ray by Vinegar Syndrome

Ghost of Frankenstein

After watching Ghost of Frankenstein (1942) you can almost imagine somebody at Universal coming up with a great title and then trying to figure out how it could be justified through the screenplay, hence the suspiciously token appearance at one point of Henry’s apparition giving out some post-mortem advice to Ludwig, his son (the other Frankenstein, Basil Rathbone, is nowhere to be seen here, possibly too busy being Sherlock Holmes). Acknowledging the skimpy 67 minute running time, it might be easy to begin worrying - while the third film in the series (Son of Frankenstein) was one of Universal’s longest of the period, the first couple of films are hardly epics: now, had the monster run out of electricity? While Son of… carefully constructs a 30 minute build up to the monster’s reawakening, this film barely wastes a few minutes as the now obligatory mob of angry villagers (don’t these townspeople ever move on?) take it on themselves to blow up the castle where the monster’s remains lie buried in solidified sulphur, while a surviving Ygor (Bela Lugosi again) still roams the vicinity. Of course, the very actions that are intended to destroy actually result in the release of the thing they detest - Ygor manages to get the stumbling creature out as the castle is razed. The odd couple make their way to another town where their exploits are less likely to be known but it’s hard to maintain stealth when one is accompanied by a seven-foot green man with a flat head and neck bolts (not to mention being a hunchback with a broken neck oneself), so upon attempting to rescue the toy of a young girl the creature is rapidly apprehended and imprisoned.

Brought to court the monster is angered by the appearance of someone it thinks it recognises: Ludwig, the brother of the son of the man (the family ties are starting to get a little longwinded here…) who gave him life in the first place. The monster breaks free of its chains into the hands of the ever-present Ygor. Deciding to make amends for the chaos caused by the inadvertent implantation of an abnormal brain into the monster, Ludwig reasons that a normal brain will make the monster rational. Contrarily, the sharper-than-you’d-expect Ygor decides that it’s his brain that should go into the monster thus bringing the two of them together forever, and so formulates a plan to execute his desire.

Again the continuity is nice though not always accurate - Ludwig claims that the monster drove his brother into exile but Wolf looked happy enough at the end of the last film and the monster had been trapped in sulphur since then. Ygor just isn’t going to die any time soon either, having apparently been wiped out in the previous film he’s back (though that neck hasn’t healed up yet) and still carrying that bloody horn. Boris Karloff is finally gone forever, wisely avoiding continuation with the series - in his place staggers Universal’s latest star of fright, Lon Chaney Junior. Problem is, just as with Son of Dracula, Chaney just doesn’t seem to be very good in this kind of role, blundering around like an imbecile with little of the talent that Karloff managed to display in the same. Of course, it doesn’t really help that the direction and script are quite average - you can’t polish pungent manure and I suppose even if Karloff had contributed it couldn’t have made this film much better. It was reported that Chaney repeatedly complained about the prosthetic on his forehead to the point of eventually losing his temper with it and ripping it off (along with a large slice of skin). Pretty ironic considering the torment his father used to put himself through for the sake of authentic characterisation.

Perhaps hinting at the real nature of the monster, as with a couple of the other films, there’s the prominent presence of a child - she almost brings a little hope when it looks like she may be able to communicate with the creature at the courtroom, and later it kidnaps her once realising that it’s going to be on the receiving end of a new brain, the intention being to have hers (her facial expression here is priceless). If the film has anything at all going for it, it occurs with the realisation that Ludwig has not implanted the brain he thought but that of Ygor, i.e. the monster finally speaks but with Ygor’s voice - it’s almost a chilling moment. The fact that Ygor realises he’s now blind also helps to set up elements of next chapter. Other than that, this film is completely pedestrian and can safely be considered the nadir of the whole series.

The image on Blu-ray is excellent, exhibiting a near perfect contrast balance and large amounts of detail, supported by cleaned-up audio.  Ghost of Frankenstein is a pure cash-in if ever there was one but does contain one functional narrative idea that works well and is of some relevance to the series (the insertion of Ygor’s brain into the monster).  However, it’s not quite enough to rescue a bad film. Thankfully there was much better to come as the monster’s ultimate conflict loomed just around the corner…  Director-for-hire Erle C Kenton was also to lend his hand to a couple more (enjoyable) films in the series from this point on.

Son of Frankenstein

Several decades following the events of Bride of Frankenstein, Henry’s son - Wolf - returns with his wife and child to the town on a stormy night to claim his inheritance. Rather than greeting him as a baron, the villagers and council are displeased to see him, making no attempt to hide their disapproval. The problem lies in their expectations: they fear a repeat of the terror that the baron’s father brought to their locale with the creation of the monster that everyone now believes to be dead. What they don’t realise is that local grave robber, Ygor, who should be dead thanks to being hanged some time previous, lives in the ruins of the destroyed watchtower and is keeping the dormant - though not destroyed - body of the monster a secret. Once Ygor hears of Wolf’s arrival he approaches him hoping that the baron and the notes written by his father will enable work to begin on returning the monster to its full strength. Quite intrigued yet also desiring to bring some balance to his family name, Wolf sets about reinvigorating the monster, but he doesn’t realise Ygor is primarily interested in despatching those who convicted him for his body-snatching exploits. Of course, when the monster is granted full strength again Ygor manipulates the creature to do his bidding; thus the murders begin.

While it would have been quite a task to follow up the preceding two classics, I’m not so sure Universal were too concerned considering the money they had brought in. 1939’s Son of Frankenstein is an imaginative outing, at the same time one that gives birth to a number of clichés along the way. I like the way the story unfolds, revealing a number of odd characters alongside quite a sinister bunch of narrow-minded villagers who judge all too quickly (possibly understandably but let’s not forget that the problems would have happened several decades before). The police inspector had his army career put on permanent hold by the removal of an arm at the hands of the monster when he was a boy, giving him some personal emotional investment in the return of the Frankensteins. The one-armed inspector now has to move the immobile false limb around with his real one in order to make any use out of it. The new baron is played eloquently by Basil Rathbone just prior to his long running stint as Sherlock Holmes.  The character’s motivations I’m unsure of - he is desperate to rid the family of a bad name yet sets about bringing potency back to the very thing that ruined it in the first place. Surely easier to destroy it there and then? Plus, he seems to go a little potty at one point only to return to complete amicable sanity for the film’s conclusion. Boris Karloff’s personality is subdued somewhat compared to Bride…, his learned ability to talk now gone again while a generally darker and less sympathetic presence prevails. Then there’s Ygor, the bane of horror film clichés… 

Bela Lugosi is quite unrecognisable in this role and I like the way he plays it. Aside from a ridiculous hairdo that has since been popularised by one or two boy bands, Ygor is a nasty individual with purely hostile intentions. The fact that he’s been hanged and survived adds to both the creepiness plus the humour - at one point the village courtroom attendees are arguing about whether he is technically dead and if he can be trialled again. His bone protrudes from his neck, his teeth are almost vampiric, and he’s generally a mess both externally and internally. The monster’s make-up seems a little less meticulous here though it was apparently the result of Jack Pierce’s application once again. Clothed for the first time in that famous fleece body-warmer, his eventual appearance involves an enjoyably creepy build up to his reawakening as Ygor and Wolf set to work on him using Henry‘s notes. Two areas that deserve commendation: some of the set designs and the cinematography itself, both creating a warped, unique feel to the most significant locations, notably the baron’s house interiors and the entrance to the old derelict grounds. The stormy train journey sets up quite a nice atmosphere of foreboding unease and this is compounded when Wolf and his family arrive to hordes of villagers ominously waiting to witness his arrival, their faces hidden by soaked umbrellas.

The Blu-ray visuals contain plenty of detail, eschewing instances of combing in the former DVD. Along the leftmost side of the DVD image there was a thin but strong blue electronic line present throughout, however this was not noticeable on equipment that overscans (either automatically or by volition).  The Blu-ray is superior with both cleaner image and sound (very appealing considering the age of the film).  The classiness of the first two films is kind of absent from Son of Frankenstein (director Rowland V Lee was never going to be able to compete with the legendary James Whale) but, clichés aside, I like the way they continued the story, maintaining continuity to an extent as well as injecting the original concept with a few new narrative ideas, thus there’s plenty to enjoy here.

The Midnight Hour

It’s Halloween in Pitchford Cove, high school youngsters are arranging a huge party at an old house to celebrate. After a class presentation by Phil (Lee Montgomery) about the history of Halloween in relation to the town itself, a small team of students decide to authenticate their fancy dress costumes by breaking into the witchcraft museum and stealing (sorry, borrowing) some genuine 19th century outfits as worn by various occupiers of the period, including a witch who was burned at the stake as she passed curse upon the place (natch). Stopping off at the nearby cemetery they have the cool idea of reading out an old parchment that they found with the costumes - an incantation for raising the dead. Laughing of their antics they leave the cemetery to prepare for the evening's party, unaware that their little joke has actually worked and bodies are returning to life along with the awakening of various other demonic entities such as werewolves and vampires. Later at the party geeky Phil finds himself unable to attract the attentions of the girl of his dreams (she’s more interested in the football-playing beefcakes) and decides to head off home, not realising that the recently disturbed dead are invading the party and causing havoc throughout the town. On his way back he runs into Sandy, a girl he met earlier who also happens to have died thirty years previous (but passable as a living person due to a distinct lack of rotting flesh and, presumably, associated odour). Together they become aware that the town is undergoing a chaotic transformation as the dead turn the living into lifeless homicidal shells - Phil and Sandy have to find a way of restoring peace to Pitchford Cove as they rapidly become a minority in a town that’s filling up with ghouls.

The fact that The Midnight Hour was made for television (back in 1985) is somewhat betrayed through a noticeable lack of gore, violence, and sex, but I’m not one to let those deficiencies hold back my enjoyment of a film - after all, there’s still atmosphere and scares to be had, right? Well, maybe not here. It opens with a nice little set-up as we see the residents of the Cove preparing for Halloween celebrations, going to school, arguing about theft, etc. One of the main problems is the undead creatures - they’re a bit of a joke and are treated as such by the film-makers. The make-up is actually very good while being overly emphasised in a Buffy-type sense and therefore not particularly unnerving. It’s not helped by having actors who think they’re comedians playing some of the parts and one corpse especially gets on my nerves with his clumsy antics. There’s also a hopeless werewolf whose attacks on mortals are oddly impotent, lacking tension in the process. Lee Montgomery was never a very ballsy actor but he’s a reasonably likeable dude and does the job. His newfound love interest, Sandy, is played by Rosanna Arquette lookalike Jonna Lee, someone who worked mainly in TV before disappearing off the scene in the early nineties. Shame because she’s both attractive and competent here.

The teenage behavioural tendencies are typical of the period and may provide some nostalgic fun for those of us who were there, but on occasions they can induce minor cringes. The film takes something of a bizarre turn when, without explanation or precedence the entire undead cast of the house go into a Thriller-style song and dance number that lasts about five minutes - I’m not kidding: this has to be seen to be believed. It may have been fun to shoot but it’s a touch embarrassing to watch. There are one or two things going for Midnight Hour, however. Firstly, it makes great use of fifties/sixties music like The Midnight Hour (obviously), Bad Moon Rising (slightly blasphemous as that track belongs to American Werewolf... as far as I’m concerned!), and Sea of Love (by Del Shannon). In addition, a particular standout sequence has Phil and Sandy cruising through the town as it crawls with the walking dead, later becoming pursued by hordes as they go back to the house to retrieve certain things they’ll need to restore order. The conclusion of the film, though, is a little on the sloppy side. One rather surprising point to note: the competent but pedestrian direction is by Jack Bender, someone who since went on to enthral us with many of the episodes from Lost.

The taped recording I have was taken from a satellite broadcast back in the early nineties and maintains a surprisingly colourful, sharp (for the medium) 1.33:1 image. I don’t think this ever received a sell-through release in the UK, disc or cassette, but Anchor Bay put out a barebones DVD on Region 1 aeons ago (the film itself was granted with a decent transfer); that disc can be difficult to find nowadays and for reasons unknown the film remains unfortunately MIA on physical media (this may be down to music rights or perhaps Disney ownership). The Midnight Hour is light, reasonably fun entertainment, despite the occasional foray into embarrassing territory, plus there is that slightly eerie segment of the last act to consider.  It's a professional 35mm production - better than you'd expect for TV - which would have benefitted from an injection of adult content.

Horror Rises from The Tomb

I first came across the Spanish 1973 film, Horror Rises from The Tomb, as an n’th generation VHS cassette in the 90s and after a couple of viewings pretty much consigned it to the backend of my video shelf, though I suppose opinion is never helped when something is cut, cropped and looking more questionable than government manifestos.  So the digital age arrived, matured, and in 2007 BCI/Deimos released a significantly improved version of a film that I had condemned to being crap, but behold, it received a few good reviews prompting a personal re-evaluation…  So, decades on from its production, how does Carlos Aured's El Espanto Surge De La Tumba hold up? Hugo, Maurice and girlfriends are chatting away one evening when the subject of a respected medium arises and they decide to go visit the woman, for a bit of a joke in the case of Hugo in particular. Knowing about the legend of a medieval sorcerer, Hugo’s ancestor Alaric, who was killed for his sins centuries before (which we get to see in the prologue), Hugo facetiously asks the medium at the séance to call forth Alaric's spirit, which of course she appears to do. The maligned ancient spirit reveals where his severed head and body are buried hoping that the reintegration of them will restore him to physical life, released from the netherworld which he is forced to wander in ethereal limbo. Hugo decides to take his friends on a mission to do just this, all of them heading up the mountains to a decrepit castle where they get the servants (!) to dig up half of the castle grounds looking for the separated body parts.  Of course, once the inherently hostile Alaric is recomposed by a hypnotised/possessed Maurice, along with his lover (a never-sexier Helga Liné) who simultaneously faced the inquisition centuries ago, Hugo and his friends are confronted with all manner of evil occurrences which they find themselves unable to control or escape from.

This is not necessarily superior film-making if perceived from a conventional perspective; Spanish horror exists in a universe of its own, much like the Italian equivalent but different again.  Despite a tendency towards talkiness, there are classics hiding beneath dirty stones for those willing to rummage, notably Satan’s Blood and The Vampire’s Night Orgy for example. Jacinto Molina (AKA Paul Naschy) was sort of the king of Spanish horror if ever there was one but his films were often variable in quality, while his acting ability sometimes limited - put it this way, he‘s no Peter Cushing. In spite of this, his perennial passion for this kind of material shines brightly, almost compensating for any shortcomings, alongside the fact that he wasn’t afraid to throw in copious amounts of gore and nudity to shock or titillate where relevant. Though his work is hardly the epitome of originality, usually being a strange concoction of other people’s ideas (probably a side effect of writing films like El Espanto... in two days), it's as if he imagined how a Universal monster movie might have appeared had the studio injected it with visible bloodshed and female flesh, then making something that approximated that ideology. Sometimes he was egocentric (often playing principal dual roles, one good and one evil as he does here) and manifested his fantasies on screen (he brushes off beautiful women or takes them as he pleases), but he was a likeable fella who contributed much to exploitation cinema and remains loved by many for both his persona and work. His usual formula is adopted for El Espanto…, taking elements of witchcraft, vampirism, reincarnation, zombies (the latter resulting in the film’s best, if brief, sequence) and grinding them together to produce a world where almost anything goes, however it’s as schizophrenic as this may sound.

Hugo (Naschy) is, when it comes to the supernatural, a stereotype non-believer who is about to have his fixed perspective twisted way out of shape as the rebirth of his ancestor brings about doom to everything around him. One particular aspect of this film I really like is the setting: driving off into the mountains they’re pretty much isolated from the rest of mankind and almost seem to have entered another sinister dimension where they become incarcerated. Their car is hijacked and ruined during the trip and they’re forced to buy an old banger from some locals which looks more like a hearse - Hugo manages to see the bright side of this incident! From there they realise that they’re trapped in/around the castle with limited rations and a growing threat to their lives as terrible things begin happening around them.  Hugo is himself the catalyst for all of this, first as he insists on summoning forth his ancestor at the séance, then when he drags his friends on a weekend adventure that will only lead to devastation, though considering Maurice seems to be bowing to the influence of demonic infiltration himself even before the trip, perhaps it isn’t entirely Hugo’s fault after all: Alaric may be exerting influence beyond the grave or maybe it’s simply uncontrollable fate at work. Referring to the previous comment about female flesh, there are some incredibly beautiful women omnipresent in this movie and this is part of the appeal I’m not remotely ashamed to say! Clothed scenes were filmed for less tolerant markets (included as an extra on the BCI/Deimos disc) and are comparatively boring once you’ve seen the ‘proper’ (export) version, the main presentation of the disc. Leading up to a fantastically downbeat climax El Espanto… thrives on its own rules and is consequently very enjoyable.

Several releases on DVD existed, primarily in the US: Brentwood once put out one of their typically messy discs, followed by Crash Cinema’s SE which compiled several versions of the film; cut, uncut and clothed. The prints used weren’t of a high standard (the uncut version faring the worst) plus the audio tracks were English dubs only, however the fact that Crash had brought together all of this material together was commendable. BCI/Deimos effectively trumped that one with the uncut unclothed version being presented on their DVD, which I picked up in 2008 and have enjoyed ever since.  It boasted a pleasing 1.85:1 anamorphic image with savored options to listen in either English or Castilian (English subtitles available) - a major bonus. There’s also an audio/text commentary, a nice introduction by Naschy himself, some extensive liner notes and one or two other titbits rounding out a fine set. I must comment on the BCI/Deimos cover designs: I think they were perceptively conceived and really attractive on the eye. With this series of Spanish Horror releases, the company were an exceptional contributor to DVD horror back in the boom days. Additionally, the book-style menu designs were among the most imaginative ever put on to disc, I still love them.  Considering the film here is an odd but highly likable entry from the Spanish seventies/eighties cycle (now probably my favourite period), this DVD is well worth adding to related collections.

Note that this DVD was technically superseded in 2017 by Scream's Blu-ray set (The Paul Naschy Collection, Volume 1), although that package contained, I believe, transfers from the same High Definition masters that BCI prepared, thus that collection of films did not contain the traditionally enhanced Blu-ray viewing experiences that for me warranted upgrading.  The Volume 2 collection is more relevant, containing as it does several Naschy films that I personally found harder to obtain (at least in decent versions) until the set arrived.

Black Magic Rites

In attempt to cobble together some sort of summary:  Several hundred years ago, Isabel (Rita Calderoni from the nearly as fu*ked up Nude For Satan and the much more coherently twisted Delirium) was burned at the stake while her lover (Hungary's own Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mickey Hargitay, also from Delirium) looks on helplessly. In the present day a group of Satanists led by the descendant of Isabel’s lover attempt to resurrect her still-rotting corpse through sacrifice of not-so-innocent victims, generally plucked from some kind of gathering that appears to be taking place in a nearby castle (I think).

How do you sum up a plot that comes across as predominantly incomprehensible? I’m not sure but I don’t think it matters so much in this case: Black Magic Rites is a psychedelic whirlwind of insane events and imagery that just has the viewer sitting there shaking their bewildered head at the fact that anything like this was ever committed to celluloid. There is plenty of nudity and some of the strangest characters ever created - one particularly potty woman is found hysterical on the stairs after supposedly being assaulted by a monster with ‘green hair, like all monsters’ (???) that nobody, including us, has ever seen. There’s something to do with vampirism in here too - apparently there are some family ties to Dracula even claimed along the way. Even as far as Euro-Horror is concerned, this film is booting sanity out the window with almost randomly strung-together sequences of celluloid that could easily have been shot by somebody off their merry head on drugs, but it sort of works as an escape into psychologically unbalanced surrealism and is helped if your perception is chemically manipulated at the time (in my case, inebriation). The late Renato Polselli has crafted some interesting work to be honest - the aforementioned Delirio Caldo/Delirium (1972) is pretty good and comparatively 'normal'! Previously he also made a more conventional Italian Gothic horror with L’Amante del Vampiro/Vampire and the Ballerina (1960), a bewitching piece that dances around in the same ballpark as Playgirls and the Vampire.

The original mouthful of a title for Black Magic Rites (1973) was Riti, Magie Nere e Segrete Orge Nel Trecento (or Black Magic Rites & the Secret Orgies of the 14th Century).  The print of the old US DVD by Redemption (entitled Reincarnation of Isabel) was apparently ultrasonically cleaned before the digital master of the time was created - apart from an excess of dirt/damage visible throughout it didn't look too bad considering the source, being moderately detailed. Under its Black Magic Rites moniker (as was the UK DVD plus a later release by Redemption in the US) on Kino Lorber/Redemption's Blu-ray, the disc was bare bones (bundled merely with a few trailers for a couple of the Rollin and Bava BDs that the company also put out) the image quality was improved in terms of detail and colour, though still quite scratchy and damaged (not something that bothers me personally).  Aside from the unfortunate cropping (albeit slight) of the image to 1.78:1 (damn that ratio!) the Blu-ray is a worthwhile step up from whatever you owned before.  As with those earlier discs we thankfully got the Italian language soundtrack with very clear English subtitles (BD subtitles are much clearer and neater than the digitised looking text we had to put up with on DVD). 

Later still, Indicator have once again hit the ball far out of the park with a limited edition release (separately on Blu-ray and 4K according to your delectation).  The attractive and quality-screaming packaging is in the vein of their Jean Rollin titles, a lavish inner case containing the disc, a beautiful book, all contained in a slipcase.  No BS artcards or other things that you will never pick up again, the money here has gone into the important stuff.  And most importantly is a proper restoration of the film itself – which once could very easily have been lost forever given its history - looking quite staggering compared to everything else, we now have fine, consistent grain with a cleaned image that must be definitive in its presentation.  Audio once again is Italian (with English subtitles), again very clear.  The extras package also belittles all previous discs – of note is a thirty minute consideration of Renato’s work (including 1999 interview footage with the director himself, courtesy of Pete Tombs) and a superb forty minute talk on the work leading up to Black Magic Rites by Stephen Thrower, including his own attempted analysis of the film.  Whether it’s the Blu-ray or the UHD, this is a critical release from Indicator for lovers of Euro-Horror and strange cinema, something that I really hope leads to a reappraisal of Renato Polselli's work, and the restoration/release of some of the films that I've been unable to see hitherto.

Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things

Night of the Living Dead was, as most reasonably knowledgeable film fans are aware, responsible for drastically altering the landscape of zombie cinema through transformation of the sub-genre from folkloric curiosity to something altogether more terrifying. In its wake followed outings directly influenced by its impact and success as this transformation continued its periodic evolutionary steps beyond the film’s first sequel right up to the present day, where the undead devils have now often learned to sprint faster than their living counterparts. But going back to the period between 1968 and 1978 (where Dawn of the Dead made its own indelible indentation) there were some interesting works being produced around the globe that pretty much had Night… to thank for their existence while possessing enough qualities to propel them to positions of value in their own right. 1972's Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things (i.e. immature teens shouldn’t mess with black magic and corpses, as we all know from personal experience, natch...) is one such piece that’s survived to be noticed through the last few decades but continues to attract completely varying opinions.

The narrative ideas of the film clearly owe a lot to Night… where a group of people become trapped in an isolated house against a relentless onslaught of the rotting dead, although reciting the story in a little more detail goes something like this: self-proclaimed creative force, Alan, hires a troupe of young adults/wannabe actors to travel to a small island for a night’s fun interfering with the black arts via rituals and the like, something that’s almost exclusively designed to provide him with some amusement thereby breaking up what must be ongoing personal boredom with the more mundane aspects of life. It’s soon the middle of night and they are gathered for reasons unknown at the island’s graveyard.  Following some embarrassment at the apparent failure of his expression of satanic rites one of the troupe shows Alan how it 'should' be done, everyone laughing before the budding director forces them to take a corpse from its resting place back to their cabin for a bit more tomfoolery. Some of them go along with it, some are understandably perturbed, but Alan heads further down the road of pushing taste to its boundaries for the sake of attention and the sheer amusement of revelling in other people’s distress. Then the graves outside begin opening up - it seems Alan’s ritual (or the more theatrical one that followed it) was a success after all, and within minutes a horde of the walking dead approaches and surrounds the cabin in a thirst for vengeance.

Where Night… was very straight faced in its dealing of the material, the tactic here is somewhat different: the first half of the film takes a persistently facetious angle as it presents its characters to us, most of whom are wisecracking teens that are endearingly lacking in pessimism. Heading the group is Alan (actually Alan Ormsby, one of the scriptwriters and special make-up effects artists on the crew - this sort of thing happens in low budget productions…). Alan is possibly the character that makes or breaks this film for most viewers due to his relentless arrogance and obnoxiousness. And it goes on and on to a point where viewers might wonder if anything horrifying (beyond the barrage of verbal gags) is ever going to happen. That’s why, for me, this film is creatively successful - when the shit does hit the fan its impact is multiplied. It goes from comic to dark in one very swift turn and the contrast lends the nastier second half an edge it might not otherwise have had - sort of a similar effect to that of Shaun of the Dead, or An American Werewolf in London, though not quite in the same class. It’s the stuff that gets on everyone’s nerves that ultimately aids the payoff, if people can just see past the things that are getting on their nerves of course… For this reason, the film works much better on multiple viewings. The show-stopping corpse rising sequence is something that Night… (and in the extras someone incorrectly suggests that it was the first time it was ever done on film – presumably they had not seen Hammer’s classic Plague of the Zombies) never had and it’s remarkably executed, having an air of the sinister and uncanny about it. Here and throughout, it should be noted that the brilliantly psychedelic electronic soundtrack plays an incredible part in crafting the weird atmosphere.  The teens’ comedic and dramatic interactions up until that point turn to disbelieving terror as the final third spirals upward to a chilling climax and a final shot that hints at something apocalyptic on the horizon.

This has been consistently available in one form or another for years. In the video age it would surface time and again with the crafty re-titling tactics of small video distribution companies that would trick fools like me into repeatedly buying the same film (Revenge of the Living Dead for example, neither title nor (extremely bad) cover artwork bearing resemblance to the real film it was selling). There was a DVD from VCI in the US that then became the most acceptable way of viewing Children… for a long time (in the post laserdisc era), but its non-anamorphic, dark and indistinct picture was not entirely desirable by modern standards. Anchor Bay UK then released a UK DVD and improved things in some respects: we had a clearer anamorphic transfer, multiple (and unnecessary in the case of DTS 5.1!) sound options, and a commentary by Alan Ormsby. The problem with the AB disc was that it consisted of a shorter version of the film; the ball was well and truly dropped on that one. After a brief transfer hiccup that involved the discs being temporarily recalled, a marginally better edition was put out later on in the US by VCI again: anamorphic enhancement for the full length version (approximately 87 minutes), another commentary, and several short featurettes. Later on, Nucleus (UK) released Children... as a double DVD bill with Bob Clark's subsequent film, Dead of Night, but possibly as a final statement VCI again returned to the film with two editions, Blu-ray and 4K, the source of which I believe is used for the 101 Films Blu-ray I have here.

Audio demonstrates some hiss and occasional mis-synching by a few frames, though is serviceable overall (gone are the old artificial surround tracks of the Anchor Bay era).  The HD video transfer may disappoint on initial glance, although with some tweaks to the display controls (particularly brightness and contrast) to balance out the elevated gray scales it doesn’t look too bad.  There is a relative absence of grain but the colours boast surprising vibrancy.  I think it has to be borne in mind that this is an early seventies very low budget (around fifty thousand dollars I believe) horror movie shot often at night, it may be that the raw materials have offered all the detail they’re ever going to.  After getting used to this image, embellished by the aforementioned display tweaks, in viewing I settled down to enjoy the film as it should be.

101 Films have included a number of VCI-sourced extras, including (where VCI demonstrate their technical ineptitude with audio quality so poor it requires subtitling!) interview footage with Alan (who reveals why he and Clark stopped talking later in their careers as well as their original intention to shoot a follow-up), and retrospective appreciation for Clark’s character and work.  An 11 minute or so on-stage Q&A is a welcome addition, as is commentary from Alan along with a couple of other cast members.  Two music videos by a band somewhat obsessed with necrophilia, a gallery and trailer round out a decent package.  This edition also comes with a welcome reversible sleeve (although the infamous cartoon sofa cover is unfortunately neither of the options), and was released both in isolation and as part of a Clark boxed set.  All in all, this movie is a minor cult item that can bring rewards to the more patient viewer of the macabre.  Despite the imperfections of the transfer, this release is very much appreciated on UK shores for this fan in particular.  P.S. It’s also the longer version rather than the truncated cut which Anchor Bay got hold of.

Lips of Blood

Obsessed with vague memories of a childhood nocturnal encounter with a strange but alluring woman, Philippe happens across some photographs at a get-together that remind him of the castle where the encounter supposedly took place. After forcing a photographer friend to tell him where the place actually is, he manages to arrange a meeting with the mysterious woman but along the way comes across four female vampires.  There may also be more to the woman than he initially realised, or remembered.  Philippe is on a strange journey to uncover secrets of his past.

The plots of Rollin films are often superfluous to the overall product - his films consist of recurring concepts contained within evocative visuals. His choice of location during the 60s through to early 80s was a notable strength, facilitating the creation of incredible-looking movies on miniscule budgets. He tended to utilise vampires, eroticism and gothic imagery to a great extent and with some often beautiful cinematography he was able to craft dreamlike experiences for the lucky viewers who connected with the material. Many people who watch his work may find it unprofessional (often due to the limited acting skills on display, alongside non-existent special effects budgets) but I’m one of the fortunate few who can escape into the strange universes of Jean Rollin. Lèvres de Sang (or Lips of Blood in translation), released in 1975, provides that opportunity with relish, although is not quite up there with my favourites (Requiem Pour un Vampire, and Frisson des Vampires for example). If you already adore the work of Rollin then you will almost certainly like this; if you’re unfamiliar then this remains a good place to start. Prepare yourself, if you are willing, to be carried away to a unique world of collision between fairy tale, mystery, and horror.

Once released on DVD both in the US and UK by Redemption, the disc contained a nicely presented non-anamorphic 1.66:1 image of Lips…, the colours being strong for the time with plenty of visual information to treat the viewer’s eyes to. The French soundtrack was good and subtitles perfectly legible. There were some cursory extras included though the release was later superseded to an extent by the Encore 3 disc edition (available from the continent), which came as an anamorphically enhanced (albeit incorrectly framed at 1.78:1) SE, this time arriving with a mountain of extras.

Redemption later teamed up with Kino Lorber to put Lips of Blood out on Blu-ray, and at the very least it revealed how good the previous DVDs actually were!  Detail was marginally improved, while colour and brightness levels were more balanced, plus it is accurately framed.  Language track again was in French (with optional and very clear English subtitles), which was suitably clear and technically uncompressed.  Trailers for various Rollin films are present on that Blu-ray, along with an introduction by the now deceased director, and an interesting interview with Rollin regular, Natalie Perrey, who revealed that the shoot for the film wasn't entirely comfortable.

Indicator finally acquired US and UK rights to embellish the film with a 4K transfer, released on both Blu-ray and UHD Blu-ray in a beautiful limited edition that conceals the disc in a digipack style case, this accompanied by a gorgeously presented book(let) within a hard outer case.  The transfer is improved once again, levelling out a consistent and fine grain-field in particular.  The extras package is significantly superior to the previous discs also, plentiful interviews (including a nice piece with Rollin’s son, who played the boy in the memories of Philippe).  The booklet is of very high quality, weighty and attractive paper.  Aside from some essential material about the project at hand by Rollin himself, there is also an essay from Maitland McDonagh - with trepidation I gave this a chance and on a positive note there is a lot of interesting commentary on the film itself and its fantastical, poetic beauty, however, she can't quite help herself with a descent into feminist-tinged griping by the final paragraph (masculine vampires apparently having hogged the limelight with the likes of Dracula, et al... sigh).  It's a shame that many boutique labels are resorting to digging up film critics who apply their contemporary obsessions with race and (here) gender to more or less everything that comes across their path.  It's a form of unnecessary and poisonous reductionism utilised to pollute the minds of others with a victimhood whining that has significantly less base in reality than is presented, and is really a means of acquiring more for oneself via the easiest means possible.  Sadly, omitting the first and particularly final paragraphs of this essay would have resulted in a much more useful addition to the booklet in my mind, but as it stands it feels as though it's once again a surreptitious means to an end in transmitting a distorted feminist ideology on to any person gullible enough to suck it up (and there are plenty - witness the success of Barbie for example).

Aside from this gripe, there is much to saviour about this release.  Delivered in its now definitive edition from Indicator, Lips of Blood is an enjoyable portrait of an individual's lost childhood manifesting its faded memories to an adult who is now ready to make a step into another dimension.  Or more simplistically perhaps, a fairly surreal erotic vampire film, whichever way you want to look at it.

Rape of the Vampire

The first feature of legendary French sex/horror director, Jean Rollin, Rape of the Vampire (AKA in French, Le Viol du Vampire, from 1968) infamously started out as a short film, later being expanded to feature length (although still being structured in the final product as two parts, even so far as to having the second part credits midway through the film!).  Feeling almost like a silent product that has stumbled into the sixties, the story has something to do with a group of women, believing that they are creatures of the night, who have been enslaved by a strange old man posing as an effigy.  They are tracked down with attempts made to 'save' them from their apparent psychosis in the first part.  In the second part the mythical vampire queen herself materialises to despatch the old man, reviving the dead where possible, and coming into conflict with a doctor who is searching to cure vampirism.

It's not an especially easy film to 'like', particularly from a conventional perspective, and mainstream audiences will probably have switched off within minutes.  The narrative flow is awkward (although Rollin stated that it made perfect sense to him), and personally I struggle to fully understand of what's going on.  Proving as he did later on that his art sits within a surreal, supernatural realm, the hallmarks of his work take shape here.  The film is probably best approached as one might witness a dream unfolding, something that makes little sense but can at times be captivating in its own right.  Certainly the first part, running approximately half an hour, shows great promise: it is steeped in some incredible gothic imagery, as the girls reside in a dilapidated house in the middle of a winter-stripped forest.  Rollin shows amazing flare for composition, drawing the viewer into a world that they might want to remain enslaved within.  The second part is where I find difficulty, with the story meandering possibly a little too much, but as I say, if one approaches in a certain way there is value to to be acquired.

I have a long history with this film, as with many of Rollin's other classic works.  This began with Redemption introducing us more adventurous fans in the UK market to his work in the 90s via VHS.  Rape of the Vampire, as with several other Rollin works, was foolishly cut by the BBFC at the time (around 41 seconds), an affliction that remained until 2023.  In the early noughties I picked up the stateside Redemption (who had shifted operations overseas, most likely thanks to the BBFC) DVD release which offered a better presentation.  Around 2012 Redemption (alongside Kino) updated their offering with an improved Blu-ray.  This delivered excellent picture quality and a booklet (mostly written by Tim Lucas and suffixed with thoughts from Nigel Wingrove, founder of Redemption Films) - this was the best release by far at this point, containing interviews, a documentary, short films, and other titbits.

Finally (and this must surely be definitive), after Indicator acquired US/UK rights to the Rollin catalogue, both a 4K and Blu-ray upgrade edition appears.  I picked up the 4K edition (limited to 6000, whereas the Blu is limited to  4000).  This has been remastered from the negative and frankly looks incredible, the stark black and white photography (framed quite rightly at 1.66:1) truly showing off its beauty whilst being underpinned by a consistent and finely rendered level of grain (which has not been over-managed at all by Indicator - this is how film should be presented).  Considering the film was produced mostly by amateurs, it's quite astounding what a work of beauty they achieved here.

As always, the audio is French language with English subtitles.  The design of the package is wonderful: a weighty feel, the outer slipcase holds a book and digipack style disc holder, all adorned with carefully selected artwork.  It should also be pointed out that Indicator have finally gotten this one past a marginally more sensible BBFC for 2023; it is now uncut.  The extras gathered is quite something, taking the owner days to trawl through.  As with the others in this series, there is an exquisitely presented book/booklet (it teeters between the two, consisting as it does of 80 pages on high quality paper) with articles and interviews acquired from various sources.  The best of these is an extensive making-of essay by Rollin himself that documents the genesis and shooting of the film, including it's rather sad initial audience reactions (inappropriate as they were, the project still managed to bring in unexpected amounts of money).  The extras of the old Redemption Blu-ray are largely present, including filmed interviews, an extended (several minutes longer on the Indicator) making-of documentary as well as a lovely pre-Rape 16 minute short by Rollin called The Far Countries (AKA Les pays loin), 1965.  This will sound familiar: two lovers-to-be (male and female here, rather than the lesbians of Rollin's later work) are lost in a maze of inhospitable city streets unable to find their way to the centre or back out, everyone they speak for help to using unrecognisable foreign tongue, until they effectively locate refuge and settle with one another.  Even this short is treated with great respect in the Indicator set: remastered in gorgeous 1.66:1 B&W, it contains a commentary from the director (prompted at various points by an interviewer), accompanying stills, and a piece in the book.

The Redemption disc does contain Rollin's very first film (The Yellow Loves, AKA Les amours jaunes) from 1958 which does not appear in the new set (instead there is a reconstruction of one of his lost early shorts, L’Itinéraire souvenir), so I am of course hopeful it will turn up on one of Indicator's other releases.  The other thing that the Redemption has to its benefit is the aforementioned Tim Lucas booklet essay, which may be considered quite invaluable.  On the whole though, the extras of the Indicator set far outweighs anything previously.

Even if this lovingly produced package did not contain the title film - just the extras, design, and book - it would be worth the asking price.  Overall, a flawed (from my point of view) beginning for Jean Rollin punctuated by moments of ethereal beauty, Rape of the Vampire has been bestowed with its most significant home video offering, one which will surely never be bettered.  Now, imagine for a second if major studios treated their catalogue titles like this...

Jeepers Creepers 3

Beginning at the conclusion of the first film, outside of the police station where The Creeper has been attacked and lost, the apparently abandoned truck is towed away, intended to be impounded.  On route, The Creeper reappears and following a couple of deaths reacquires his truck, hiding it away in an open (!) field.  It is discovered by some arrogant teens but as with the cops they can find no way of boarding the vehicle, filled as it is with booby traps.  Meanwhile some cops and a team of vigilantes head out to track and finish the monster.  Elsewhere a grandmother whose son, Kenny, was once taken by the creature now has visions of her dead son and his warnings, whilst musing over revenge.  Kenny's niece attracts the attention of the monster and all are gradually brought together in a showdown to stop his insatiable lust over human body parts.

I feel there are several flaws with Jeepers Creepers 3 that did not afflict the previous outings.  The story meanders around confusingly over a severed hand that holds the key to information, and many characters that crisscross one another as they become mixed up in the monster's activities.  The previous entries took time to build up suspense, giving the characters something to become increasingly terrified about, whereas here the action starts from the first second.  Some may see this as advantageous, however, I don't feel that it works in the film's favour.  The other aspect that presents weakness is The Creeper himself.  Again, he is ably played by Jonathan Breck, however, the creature is fully visible in sunny daylight most of the time.  No attempt is made to conceal him as was the case in parts 1 and 2, thus - despite looking pretty cool - his impact is inevitably lessened.  The film is a reasonable time-passer maybe, on the other hand a bit of a let-down following two superior chapters.  The one nifty aspect of part 3 is that it winds up being a nice bridge between the first and second parts (with a cameo from one of the first film's characters at the conclusion).

Released in the UK on Blu-ray by 101 Films, the disc reminds me of a budget acquisition in the early days of DVD - there are no extras at all (not even a trailer) and the menu simply provides the viewer with a 'Play' option, no chapter selections, nothing!  Still, the film looks nice - 2.35:1 HD, it is very sharp and detailed disadvantaged only by a bitrate/lazy encode that can't always keep up, resulting in banding where colour gradations should be smooth.  The audio defaults to stereo but can be switched to 5.1, thankfully, for a competent track that exhibits some source mixing issues.  Overall the presentation is reasonable and the barebones disc can be picked up without too much financial outlay.