Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

Beyond the intrigue of the complex story; aside from the political and moral messages that adorn the script, are two performances that elevate Kiss of the Spider Woman above the standard thriller it could so easily have become.

Two men who could not be further apart in life, both socially and idealistically, find themselves sharing a cell in a dingy South American prison. Luis Molina (William Hurt) is a homosexual, an effeminate window dresser gaoled due to alleged indiscretions with a minor. His cell-mate, Valentin Arregui (Raul Julia), is a revolutionary, entwined in a web of political scheming and destined never to be released. To pass the time, Luis tells the tale of his favourite film which is then realised on screen as a fantasy. As the tale reaches its conclusion, the men’s relationship changes in ways that surprises both.

Everything in Hector Babenco’s film is lifted by the performances. So intoxicating are Hurt and Julia that you are enveloped within their lives and struggles as themes of freedom, beliefs and confinement play out within the cell and across the plot of Luis’ film. Friction gives way to reluctant fondness as external contrivances test their resolve. Only in the final act are the true motivations and truths revealed, and while they are revelatory, they are more interesting in signifying how the characters have changed.

There are, however, some issues that prevent Kiss of the Spider Woman being the classic it deserves to be, and in places promises to be. The supporting cast are without exception weak, something even more evident due to those leading performances. Blunt and unpolished, apart from the fantasy sequences, they serve only to draw you out of the story and sadly do not do justice to the film as a whole.

Kiss of the Spider Woman is a release that should be seen by all. Hurt and Julia have delivered career highlights under the insightful direction from Babenco’s. From the first scene to the last, this is their film and if a reminder was ever needed as to the standard that should be required to win an acting Oscar, then this is it.

KISS OF THE SPIDER WOMAN / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: HECTOR BABENCO / SCREENPLAY: LEONARD SCHRADER / STARRING: WILLIAM HURT, RAUL JULIA, SONIA BRAGA, JOSE LEWGOY / RELEASE DATE: JANUARY 25TH

 

While low-budget independent filmmaking is often to be applauded, sometimes genuinely talented and original filmmakers are overlooked when it’s becoming easier than ever for any old wannabe to pick up a camera and make a ‘movie’. It’s a shame when some of the better aspiring talent is forced into making unappealing genre films (because that’s where the money at this end of the market is to be found), but the result is that you find them ploughing more imagination and intelligence into those movies than their audiences have any right to expect. The Blood Harvest, however, is entirely lacking in wit, intelligence, insight and ingenuity; it’s an example of cheap horror for cheap horror’s sake, poorly made, badly acted, sloppily staged, incompetently edited, ill thought through, wholly implausible and often ridiculously distasteful – but sadly, thanks to the absence of conviction, never to the point at which any of these things become entertaining. 

Opening with some context-less torture pornography – later excused in a preposterously risible exchange of info-dump exposition – writer/director George Clarke’s film is too enthralled to his ideas to set them within a convincing framework, so as it develops, clichés pile upon clichés with no attempt made towards credibility or verisimilitude. Ostensibly the story of two Northern Irish detectives on the trail of a serial killer with a bizarrely idiosyncratic MO, no background is provided for either, nor indeed for any of the killer’s victims, and it is impossible to care what happens. There is a scene at the end of the second act in which the disgraced half of the duo, having spent nine months staring at his map of the murders and apparently on a whim, having recently investigated to no avail the location marked with a post-it “Must investigate this area” (for reasons not given), suddenly realises the notelet had slipped on its drawing pin and the arrow had been pointing to the wrong place. The rest of the film is equally as insubordinate to believability. “It’s almost like they’re collecting for some sort of harvest,” one of the detectives later says, the scriptwriter too enamoured of his own wordsmithery to realise what he’s written.

It gets worse. Once unmasked, the murderer subsequently gives what is probably the most offensive performance ever committed to camera, and even that is outdone by possibly the most ludicrous plot twist in the history of direct-to-video, which the dialogue contrives to make even less credible with every added implausibility. Crass, unpleasant, insubstantial, shallow and worst of all dull, even what might have been The Blood Harvest’s saving grace- its photography- is spoiled by lackadaisical editing, gratuitously weird angles and the absence of any kind of objectivity in the directing. Appalling. 

Special Features: making of, bloopers, trailers

THE BLOOD HARVEST / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR: GEORGE CLARKE / SCREENPLAY: GEORGE CLARKE / STARRING: ROBERT RENDER, JEAN-PAUL VAN DER VELDE, RACHAEL STEWART / RELEASE DATE: 25TH JANUARY

The act of utilising a Morgan Freeman voice-over to introduce your film can now be classed as a cliché of contemporary action flicks. Momentum has the audacity to pull such a move off in its opening scene, and whilst the majority of the film offers plenty of thrills but little in the way of surprises, what small amount of visual gusto Momentum can muster still leaves a bitter aftertaste.

The film tells the story of the military-trained trickster-thief Alexis is brought in to pull off a mysterious heist that goes sour rather too quickly. Perplexed at the purpose of the operation, she becomes a target for a master assassin and must outrun him in order to uncover the truth behind the heist that may take her life.

Back in November, Momentum caused something of a stir when it made a whopping total of £46 on its opening night in the U.K.; with the vast majority of critics quick to pigeonhole the film as a derivative fusion of popcorn-munching thriller and socially-aware government conspiracy. Their criticisms are rather spot on, unfortunately, because although it wants to be a candid commentary on today’s war-mongering culture that comes complete with Ebola references (well, jokes really. Jokes in rather bad taste, to boot), its uninspired blend of tired stock characters and run-of-the-mill script fails to set things alight.

However, the insipid nature can’t be put down to a lack of enthusiasm in certain areas. The story itself moves along at a brisk, easy-going pace, as former Bond Girl Olga Kurylenko’s Alexis gallops through hotels, studio flats and abandoned warehouses in order to avoid being assassinated, all of which are given a murky cinematography that sadly do nothing to lift it out of the sloppy dirge it finds itself in for roughly 90 minutes. James Purefoy’s villain fares no better, and talks with a lot of swaggering menace, but can’t radiate any sense of genuine tension for our heroine’s actions.

And then there’s Morgan Freeman himself, only popping up at intermediate moments throughout the film. It’s as if he was lured into the film, thinking it would be a swell flick to join in with, but then he actually read the script cover to cover, and requested his ultimate contribution to be only a handful of fleeting appearances.

As a Hollywood blockbuster made to knock your socks off, Momentum fails to live up to its grandiose title, but even as a B-movie, it still can’t muster any sort of indie charm to it. Right down to the blank performances from the film’s stars, which imply that they themselves are dulled by everything going on around them, Momentum lacks any sort of solid punch in just about every area. An unfortunate misfire that struggles to redeem itself.

MOMENTUM / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: STEPHEN S. CAMPANELLI / SCREENPLAY: ADAM MARCUS, DEBRA SULLIVAN / STARRING: OLGA KURYLENKO, MORGAN FREEMAN, JAMES PUREFOY / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

 

The late Rod Serling was one of the most prolific and prodigious talents of what we might term as the early TV age entering the industry at a period when the new media’s appetite for original material was at its most rapacious. Perhaps it’s frustrating that his most enduring legacy is the classic late 1950s/early 1960s American anthology series The Twilight Zone (although he also co-wrote the script for the original Planet of the Apes in 1968) and yet tucked away in the depths of his CV is Night Gallery, a barely-remembered second anthology show which ran for three seasons between 1970 – 1973 (Serling passed away the following year). Night Gallery is, despite superficial similarities (Serling introduces the episodes with his rich, evocative tones) a very different beast to the groundbreaking Twilight Zone and its content is generally much more patchy and hit-and-miss.

Serling strolls around a sparse art gallery setting and displays a series of paintings, each of which depicts the content of the stories that make up a typical instalment of the series. The emphasis in Night Gallery is on the occult and the mysterious, odd little yarns with twists which range from the clever and quirky to the utterly mundane and/or ridiculous. Apart from the odd vampire in later episodes, monsters and aliens are out, special effects are kept to a very bare minimum and the emphasis is on tight, tense narratives often predicated on the vanities, weaknesses and foibles of the human condition. Season one, commissioned after the success of a pilot screened in 1969, one segment of which was directed by a young Steven Spielberg,  consisted of just six fifty-minute episodes split into two or three  vignettes, many of which are forgettable and predictable. There are a couple of gems here though, including a macabre tale which sees Larry Hagman using black magic to replace his wife’s cold personality with that of his cheery housekeeper and in another Burgess Meredith, TV’s Penguin from the 1960s Batman series, plays a down-and-out doctor who finds a cure-all-ills medical bag which has accidentally made its way back in time from the 21st century.

The expanded second season often saw as many as four short stories crow-barred into each episode with the result that very few of them have much time to establish themselves much less allow viewers to invest in the extraordinary dilemmas of their characters. But the mix of stories remains much the same, albeit with an appearance by Count Dracula (Cesar Romero, another veteran from Batman) and the usual assortment of ghosts and haunted houses alongside the odd Gothic grotesquery.  Season Three’s episodes are reduced to twenty-five minutes in length, all but two now consisting of just one rather more focussed story. Throughout the show’s run there’s a massive variety of tall tales on offer and certainly in the earlier seasons it’s easy to sit out one duffer – although we’d happily steer you in the direction of the (unintentionally) hilarious The Nature of the Enemy from Season One in which a lunar astronaut discovers a giant metal mousetrap on the moon’s surface – in the hope that something better will come along in the next few minutes.

Star spotters will enjoy early appearances from the likes of Diane Keaton and frequent turns by veterans such as David McCallum, Vincent Price, John Astin (who also directed several segments), Edward G. Robinson, Mickey Rooney, Patrick Macnee and The Munsters’ Al Lewis whose participation often lift half-hearted, clunky material. Completists might be frustrated that the episodes don’t run as broadcast but are accessible via each disc’s menu under their own title which gives the collection the appearance of a random grab-bag of short stories. Perhaps that’s the best way to appreciate this odd, slightly underwhelming series which time might have forgotten but which is, if you’ve the patience and inclination, worth at least a casual re-evaluation over forty years after its original broadcast. Night Gallery is available as a ‘complete series’ ten-disc boxset or as three individual season collections.

NIGHT GALLERY / CERT: 12 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: VARIOUS / STARRING: ROD SERLING, LARRY WATSON, JOHN ASTIN, ALAN NAPIER / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

 

Oscar nominee Christine Edzard (Little Dorrit) followed up the success of the ballet-film Tales of Beatrix Potter by writing and directing this rather odd but weirdly fascinating movie, a modern interpretation of three of Hans Christian Andersen’s best-loved fairy tales, which culminates in a surreal but rather wonderful performance by dancers from The Royal Ballet dressed up as garden vegetables.

Made in 1979, it’s hard to imagine what kind of audience Edzard was pitching to, and it’s the dark undertones and sometimes sinister old-fashionedness of the film that proves its undoing.

The first story – The Kitchen – is all about household objects which come to life in rather jerky stop-motion and argue amongst themselves before a plastic bag lands on the kitchen table, launches into a pirouette and inspires the objects to forget their misgivings and join in the dance. It’s a nice idea that doesn’t really work, and the voices of the household objects (particularly the posh tea pot with her memories of India and the wicker basket that talks like a shop steward) don’t really help matters.

The second story – The Little Match Girl – is interesting but problematic for a whole set of different reasons. It follows a little Asian girl as she wanders the streets of London (at some pitch-black hour of the night – what were her parents thinking?) in search of the Queen. On the way, she meets a rather creepy tramp and his cat and lights up matches so that she can admire the different buildings and monuments. Eventually, she finds a living statue of Queen Victoria who invites her to tea, but by the time day breaks events have taken a rather depressing turn.

Little Ida is the final story and by far the best when a posse of garden vegetables (more stop motion) converges on Covent Garden to stage a ballet. The stop motion sequence lasts far too long, but the film finally comes to life when the vegetables ramble on stage and transform into human dancers, performing a ballet that was designed by the legendary Frederick Ashton (who also choreographed Edzard’s Tales of Beatrix Potter). The dancing is magical, the costumes are superb, and the film finally begins to come to life.

There is a wraparound story involving Hans Christian Andersen (Murray Melvin, The Devils) flying into London on his trunk and mumbling about the importance of imagination. Melvin’s a fine actor but he doesn’t have much to do, and whenever his character briefly appears in-between stories he seems less like a well-loved children’s storyteller and more like The Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Still, the central message that imagination is underrated and vegetables and teacups can talk and dance if we’ll only let ourselves believe it is a great theme to hang a children’s film on. It’s just a pity about the execution.

Overall, Stories from a Flying Trunk is too gloomy and pondering to hold the attention of its target audience. Its forays into the dark side (especially The Little Match Girl) are also pretty disquieting, although the updated story is more or less faithful to Andersen’s original vision. But the ballet sequences in the final segment are definitely worth waiting for, and if Stories from a Flying Trunk had concentrated on dance in the same way as Tales of Beatrix Potter did, it could have been exceptional. In the final evaluation, Edzard’s film should be applauded for its playful sense of reinvention, but it’s really a museum piece (and probably felt out of date even when it was first released). Having said that, it’s an interesting failure and very worth watching for curiosity value alone.

STORIES FROM A FLYING TRUNK (1979) / CERT: U / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: CHRISTINE EDZARD / STARRING: MURRAY MELVIN, ANN FIRBANK, TASNEEM MAQSOOD, JOHN TORDOFF / RELEASE DATE: JANUARY 18TH

 

Willy Clark (Falk) is an elderly comedian who used to be one half of the famous comedy duo Lewis and Clark, a team who haven’t appeared together for several years after an acrimonious bust-up. Willy’s niece Nancy (Parker), who also happens to be his agent, has an offer she hopes her stubborn uncle won’t refuse – Warner Brothers want Lewis and Clark to reform for a scene in a new film – the only problem is, will the pair ever agree to work together again?

Things don’t go well when the two men meet. Old animosities quickly resurface and within moments the duo are back to squabbling. For his part, Al Lewis (Allen), is willing to give things a shot for old time’s sake, but it’s going to take something unexpected to happen before the bickering partners might finally begin to appreciate what they mean to each other.

The Sunshine Boys, based on a stage play by legendary US comedy writer Neil Simon (The Odd Couple, Barefoot in the Park) had already been translated into a successful movie starring George Burns and Walter Matthau twenty-one years before Peter Falk and Woody Allen were brought together for this 1996 made-for-TV version. The pairing of Allen and Falk was undoubtedly a coup (Allen had originally been asked to direct the 1975 version, but declined) and both actors acquit themselves beautifully in the roles, but this version never quite escapes the shadow of its silver screen big brother. It’s hard not to listen to Falk and Allen sparring and wish you were watching Matthau and Burns instead, in fact many of Falk’s line readings are dead-on reminiscent of Matthau even though he isn’t playing the Matthau character.

The other issue – which is shared by both versions – is that The Sunshine Boys never truly escapes its theatrical roots. Apart from an opening scene when Willy walks to an audition and loses his way in a New York street, the remainder of the film takes place in interiors where everyone becomes a talking head, shooting off machine-gun dialogue, trying to one-up each other with insults that often raise a smile but are rarely laugh-out-loud funny. Simon’s writing is still incredibly clever but it is very much of its time, and the occasional attempt to update the script doesn’t really work apart from a nice line Allen gets about taking Nintendo lessons from a local kid. Remember, Nintendo was current in 1996. Now, that line just dates the film even further.

Still, for fans of old-fashioned buddy comedy, this is still very worth watching. Falk and Allen are at the top of their game, and it’s especially great to watch Allen play a character he hasn’t written for himself (although, playing an ex-vaudeville comedian, he still isn’t straying far from his creative roots). Sarah Jessica Parker, two years away from Sex and the City, also does well in a role that often relegates her to the job of straight man, asking the obvious questions so that Falk and Allen can deliver the punchlines, and Edie Falco, Whoopi Goldberg, Michael McKean and Liev Schreiber lend differing levels of support (Falco and Goldberg are great, McKean and Schreiber not so much). If you haven’t seen the Matthau/Burns version, you’ll enjoy this but if you have seen that version, you’ll probably find yourself pining for the original.

THE SUNSHINE BOYS / CERT: U / DIRECTOR: JOHN ERMAN / SCREENPLAY: NEIL SIMON / STARRING: WOODY ALLEN, PETER FALK, SARAH JESSICA PARKER, MICHAEL MCKEAN / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

 

When the Pink Panther diamond is stolen from a museum in the fictitious Middle Eastern country of Lugash and a familiar calling card – a white glove embroidered with the initial P – is left teasingly in its place, the authorities are convinced that the gem was lifted by the notorious gentleman thief Sir Charles Litton, the same thief (although with a slightly misspelt surname) who stole the jewel in the original movie.

It makes sense that the policeman who solved that case and recovered the diamond the first time around should investigate this new heist. Unfortunately, Inspector Clouseau (Sellers) has just been suspended by his boss Chief Inspector Dreyfus (Lom) after an unfortunate episode with a blind street musician and his monkey that resulted in the rather pompous and catastrophe-prone Clouseau inadvertently assisting a bank robbery.

Dreyfus is forced to reinstate Clouseau and send him to Lugash, and it’s the last straw. Clouseau has reduced Dreyfus to a twitchy neurotic mess, and now Dreyfus is obsessed with murdering the detective.

Meanwhile, Clouseau’s investigation of the robbery is as inept as always. He is certain that Litton is the thief, but Litton (Plummer, stepping into the role played by David Niven in the first film) didn’t do it and is investigating the theft as well. Maybe the key to everything is the beautiful Lady Litton (Schell) who is the focus of Clouseau’s hunt, but solving this caper will take smart thinking which means that Clouseau is already at a serious disadvantage.

This is the fourth in the hugely successful Pink Panther series, and marked Seller’s return to the role after Alan Arkin played the detective in 1968’s Inspector Clouseau (Peter Sellers’ last outing had been in 1964’s A Shot in the Dark which was co-written by The Exorcist’s William Peter Blatty). For many people, it is also the best entry in the long-running franchise, and it certainly comprises some of the series’ better-known, and much loved, gags: the scene with Clouseau, the street musician and his ‘minkey’ is a deserved classic, as is a sequence much later in the film when Clouseau – disguised as a hotel cleaner – vacuums Lady Litton’s hotel room and manages to suck a parrot into the hoover. Watch out, too, for Clouseau pretending to be a telephone repairman and inadvertently gluing himself to an expensive antique chair. There’s also an amusing karate fight between Clouseau and his manservant Cato, which was one of the running gags of the series. It’s the kind of slapstick you can never grow tired of watching.

Like most of the Panther films, the theft of the diamond is just an excuse to showcase Peter Seller’s comic artistry and dress him up in ridiculous disguises with appropriately stupid voices. Yes, the crime is solved at the end, but who really cares? The joy of the Pink Panther movies isn’t in reaching the destination, it’s the comic journey it takes to get there. Fans of the series will love this new Blu-ray presentation, which looks immaculate, although sadly it’s devoid of special features. And for newbies, this is a pretty good place to start.

Let’s just forget the Steve Martin incarnations ever happened.

THE RETURN OF THE PINK PANTHER / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: BLAKE EDWARDS / SCREENPLAY: FRANK WALKMAN, BLAKE EDWARDS / STARRING: PETER SELLERS, CHRISTOPHER PLUMMER, CATHERINE SCHELL, HERBERT LOM / RELEASE DATE: JANUARY 11TH

 

Original ideas are few and far between, and director/co-writer Anthony DiBlasi settles instead for making a solid job of the story he’s got. Essentially a combination of Assault on Precinct 13 and Silent Hill, Last Shift is an exercise in developing tension while providing enough clues to allow the audience to piece together the story before the predictable but well-handled ending.

Juliana Harkavy is Jessica Loren, a rookie cop on her first day and given the night shift at a station that will be closing come sunrise, looking after a roomful of old evidence that should have been cleared out but wasn’t. The opening of the movie doesn’t quite ring true (it’s hard to believe that a total newbie would be left entirely alone overnight, nor that she’d turn up for a shift with no idea of what it entailed), but Harkavy’s an engaging presence and the script and photography are restrained enough to encourage the suspension of disbelief. Once Loren is alone, odd things start happening (a tramp finds his way in without using the door, an emergency call is received although the phone lines have already been re-routed), and it soon becomes apparent that all is not well, and there is far more going on in the building than Loren could possibly have been prepared for.

DiBlasi mounts most of the scares very effectively, with a sense of unease that is palpable almost from the start. The script introduces and develops its themes at discrete enough intervals that the audience is persuaded to go along with the experience, when less well-paced films might have lost them. Nevertheless, as the reason for Loren’s ordeal becomes apparent, it’s difficult to shake off some of the illogicalities inherent in the premise, and DiBlasi can’t seem to decide whether his hauntings should be of the procedural or a more conventional variety, with some of the standard horror movie elements undermining the more effective moments. There are, however, a number of very successful ways in which fairly ordinary police practices are accommodated into the genre’s conventions, such that it’s easier to forgive many of the film’s more clichéd incidents. Although there is plenty of traditional horror imagery, it is the less typical visual cues that will stick in the mind.

Harkavy downplays the role of Loren, never allowing her acting to tip over into hysteria – which would have been an easier choice to make – and thus lending Last Shift more verisimilitude than it perhaps deserves; the understated nature of her performance carries the film when it might easily have become ludicrous. Far classier than most recent films in the genre, in spite of its flaws, Last Shift should easily satisfy most horror fans.

LAST SHIFT / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: ANTHONY DiBLASI / SCREENPLAY: ANTHONY DiBLASI, SCOTT POILEY / STARRING: JULIANA HARKAVY, JOSHUA MIKEL / RELEASE DATE: JANUARY 18TH 2016

Possibly the best-known giallo that wasn’t made by either Dario Argento or Mario Bava, What Have You Done to Solange? is a deceptively simple but gruesome little horror story that delivers its shocks with the precision of a Swiss watch and culminates in what is still – more than forty years after its release – a much-copied but never bettered gut punch of a resolution.

The set-up is simple. We’re in 1970s London, a schoolgirl has been viciously murdered. The way she was murdered is especially nasty – stabbed through her genitals, with the blade of the knife still protruding between her legs. Soon, other students at the girl’s boarding school fall victim to the same murderer, and are slain in exactly the same way. When the murder took place, one of the girl’s classmates thought she saw it happen. But she can’t tell the police about it. Why? Because she wasn’t alone, she is having an affair with her Italian teacher Enrico Rosseni (Fabio Testi), and to confess what she’s seen will destroy his career and ruin his already badly strained marriage.

The problem is, Rosseni puts himself in the frame when he is noticed hanging around the crime scene. The only way to prove his innocence is to find the killer himself. And what is the significance of the green pins worn by each of the victims?

To give more of the story away would be to spoil the surprise. What Have You Done to Solange? is all about pacing and atmosphere, and director and co-writer Massimo Dallamano (who based the film on an Edgar Wallace mystery novel) takes his time unravelling the tale and spotlighting an interesting cast of likely suspects along the way. He doesn’t even introduce the titular Solange until very late in the game but it’s a twist that’s worth waiting for (with a terrific performance from Camille Keaton) which eventually drops all the puzzle pieces neatly into place.

All the familiar elements of the giallo are here: the black-gloved assassin, the dodgiest assortment of teachers and priests you’ve ever seen, including a sweaty pervert who has ‘red herring’ stamped all over him, the element of forbidden sex and an abundance of unnecessary nudity (there are a couple of schoolgirl shower scenes that leave nothing to the imagination) and (if you watch the English language version – both the Italian and English versions are on this disc) a preponderance of bad dubbing. Personally speaking, the Italian language version seems to be more effective, although it’s difficult to get past actors speaking Italian whose characters have almost cartoonishly English names (Brenda Pilchard easily being the best).

This is a classic for a reason, and Arrow’s new Blu-ray presentation is so clean it could almost convince us the film was made yesterday – if it wasn’t for the unfortunate 1970s clothing and hairstyles. The special features include a commentary from Alan Jones and Kim Newman, a fascinating interview with Karin Baal which is notable (and admirable) because she definitely has mixed feelings about the finished product, and a terrific feature about Dallamano’s career and the ‘Schoolgirls in Peril’ sequels that tenuously attempted to capitalise on Solange‘s success. Absolutely fantastic.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO SOLANGE? / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR: MASSIMO DALLAMANO / SCREENPLAY: BRUNO DI GERONIMO, MASSIMO DALLAMANO / STARRING: FABIO TESTI, CRISTINA GALBÓ, KARIN BAAL, CAMILLE KEATON / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW