Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

DOCTOR WHO – THE COLLECTION: SEASON 12 / CERT: PG / DIRECTORS: CHRISTOPHER BARRY, RODNEY BENNETT, DAVID MALONEY, MICHAEL E BRIANT / SCREENPLAY: TERRANCE DICKS, ROBERT HOLMES, BOB BAKER, DAVE MARTIN, TERRY NATION, GERRY DAVIS / STARRING: TOM BAKER, ELISABETH SLADEN, IAN MARTER / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Originally issued as the first ‘classic’ Doctor Who Blu-ray set in February 2018 in a strictly limited edition release, Season 12 – let’s call it ‘the one where Tom Baker arrives and shakes things up as bit’  – sold out in days and quickly became a cherished and much sought-after collectors’ item. Fans who missed out were forced to consider paying eye watering sums of money on a popular auction site if they wanted to get their hands on this rather tasty little celebration of Doctor Who in something approaching its 1970s prime with many wondering if they really needed the luxury of two kidneys. The BBC have bowed to pressure and reissued the set – again in limited numbers – and for a second time, it’s become as rare as hen’s teeth within days of its availability. Unless you can find one lurking in the dark depths of some online retailer or other then it’s back to that popular auction site and weighing up the pros and cons of bodily mutilation…

Season 12 is, by any consideration, a real milestone in the history of Doctor Who. Jon Pertwee had been comfortably ensconced in the role for five years and his reassuring, avuncular presence had made the show a bigger hit that it had been in years. His adventures (firstly largely Earth-based thanks to the period of exile imposed by him by the Time Lords at the end of the 1960s and his second incarnation with his ability to travel in Space and Time slowly restored as the seasons rolled by) were colourful, action packed and richly imaginative. But by 1975, it was time for things to change. New producer Philip Hinchcliffe and his script editor Robert Holmes had a grander vision for the series. They decided that it was time Doctor Who grew up a little, set aside its propensity for tentacle-waving rubber monsters and started exploring the darker side of the Doctor’s universe. But change takes time. The eccentric Tom Baker stepped into the TARDIS and brought a mercurial new energy to both the series and the character and Hinchcliffe was frustrated at taking over the series with a number of scripts already commissioned that singularly did not completely fit the plan he had for the series. Yet Season 12 demonstrates the show moving away from the safety net of the Pertwee era – once the solidly-predictable and rambunctious season opener Robot is out of the way – and moving into more unpredictable territory. Robert Holmes’ Ark in Space (heavily rewritten from an original script by veteran writer John Lucarotti) quickly saw the series’ ratings rise to new heights – the serial is in many ways a precursor to the likes of Alien and is a favourite amongst many fans. Genesis of the Daleks saw the reliable Terry Nation delivering his best script for the series for years in a story that told the story of the creation of the Doctor’s deadliest enemies, introducing the maniacal Davros, who would reappear years later to increasingly diminishing returns until he was spectacularly reimagined in 2008 in the revived series. The Cybermen returned for the first time since 1968 in the mundane but enjoyable Revenge of the Cybermen and two-parter The Sontaran Experiment is a gritty, rather cruel throwaway that quickly reintroduced the warlike potato-heads from Pertwee’s final season. With just 20 episodes (the season’s production was curtailed by industrial action) and a recession hammered budget (necessitating the reuse of some sets and an ‘arc’ structure that loosely connected four serials), Season 12 is very much Doctor Who setting off on a new creative curve and indicating the slightly less child-friendly direction that was to bring the show massive audiences and popular acclaim in the following two seasons.

For many fans, the TARDIS line-up here – Tom Baker, brilliant and buzzing with invention and far from the comedic parody of himself he would sadly become in later years, the magnificent Elisabeth Sladen as Sarah Jane Smith and Ian Marter as starchy new boy Harry Sullivan (drafted into the series to do some heavy lifting in case an older and less physical actor was cast as the Doctor) – is pretty much iconic. The chemistry between the three is instantly likeable and the partnership’s dissolution early the following year (Marter was written out in Season 13 when it became evident that Baker’s Doctor was more than capable of fending for himself physically) prematurely brought to an end one of the great TARDIS teams (even though we never actually see them all together inside the Doctor’s time machine). It’s not for nothing that Season 12 is so well regarded and beloved by fans.

As ever, your mileage will vary in relation to the issuing of SD TV material on Blu-ray, but Season 12 has scrubbed up nicely, the picture is sharp and colourful, the sound quality has been buffed up and, of course, the set includes almost all the bonus material available from the original DVD releases of the serials. But there’s new stuff here including an engrossing hour long interview with Tom Baker conducted by journalist and super-fan Matthew Sweet, a couple of new ‘making of’ featurettes, Behind the Sofa features in which assorted Who luminaries watch and comment on the episodes and some new VFX on Revenge of the Cybermen.

Season 12 is a little rough around the edges in places, a series working slowly to change its format and yet shackled by some elements from its past. But it’s very much ‘the shape of things’ to come, Hinchliffe’s second and third seasons in embryo form, with Tom Baker bringing a new manic energy to the lead role and offering up countless exciting options for the show’s new direction. If you’re a proper Who fan you will need this in your life and if it’s slipped the net so far, well… what’s a kidney between friends?

THE ELEPHANT MAN (1980) / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: DAVID LYNCH / SCREENPLAY: CHRISTOPHER DE VORE, ERIC BERGREN, DAVID LYNCH / STARRING: ANTHONY HOPKINS, JOHN HURT, JOHN GIELGUD, ANN BANCROFT, WENDY HILLER, MICHAEL ELPHICK / RELEASE DATE: APRIL 6TH

David Lynch’s most accessible film celebrates its fortieth anniversary with a glittering new 4K release that not only serves to remind us what a wonderful piece of filmmaking it is in its own right but also, in these difficult times, it reminds us about the importance of kindness, humanity, and dignity in the face of unimaginable and terrifying adversity.

Based loosely on the memoirs of Sir Frederick Treves, the surgeon who rescued horribly disfigured Joseph Merrick (renamed John Merrick in the movie) from a grisly life of squalor in a Victorian freak show, The Elephant Man is a touching, deeply poignant, and achingly sad real life story. Yet it also manages to be uplifting and hopeful and, in the end, it speaks volumes for humanity’s capacity for compassion as much as its propensity for vulgarity and cruelty. Born in Leicester in 1862, Merrick became blighted by a terrible disfigurement and yet he still managed to achieve some measure of happiness and contentment in a short and painful existence in a society typically minded to regard him as some unthinking, unfeeling monster to be gawped and laughed at. Anthony Hopkins plays Treves who finds Merrick exploited and mistreated by the sadistic, alcoholic showman Mr Bytes (Freddie Jones). Treves takes Merrick back to the London Hospital where, despite the initial resistance of the governor Mr Carr-Gomm (Gielgud), Treves is able to secure Merrick comfortable permanent lodgings and when it transpires that he is actually a well read, educated young man he becomes the toast of a largely kindly, fascinated high society. However, he finds that he is unable to escape his past when he is further tormented by loathsome hospital porter Jim (Elphick) before being kidnapped by Bytes who takes Merrick on the road and out of England as a circus attraction. In time, of course, Merrick makes his way back to London where he finds some final peace after his first visit to the theatre.

The Elephant Man – filmed in moody monochrome and looking incredibly sharp in this stunning 4K transfer which accentuates the subtle use of light and shadow – is  in many ways a two-hander between Anthony Hopkins (years before he turned into a slab of prime Welsh ham) and John Hurt, unrecognisable under heavy layers of stifling prosthetics. Hopkins brings a quiet, conflicted dignity to his role as Treves, determined to do what he feels is the right thing for the tormented Merrick and yet agonised over whether his well-meaning exploitation of his charge is any more benign than that of Bytes at the freak show. But there’s no mistaking the fondness and tenderness and genuine concern he has for Merrick, played by Hurt with astonishing poignancy and delicacy. We feel everything Merrick is going through; we share in his fear, his bewilderment and his simple delight when exposed to the curious culture of 19th century society and we do it through Hurt’s incredible, nuanced performance, culminating in the iconic moment when, back in London, he is cornered and hounded at Liverpool Street Station and he turns on his would-be attackers and delivers the heartfelt, heart-wrenching cry “I am not an animal… I am a human being.”

Forty years on and The Elephant Man is still a towering milestone in British cinema. It’s never looked better than it does now on 4K and it is as essential a purchase as it’s possible to imagine for any serious cineaste.

KWAIDAN (1964) / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: MASAKI KOBAYASHI / SCREENPLAY: YÔKO MIZUKI / STARRING: MICHIYO ARATAMA, MISAKO WATANABE, RENTARÔ MIKUNI, KENJIRÔ ISHIYAMA / RELEASE DATE: APRIL 27TH

Eureka entertainment continue on its Masters of Cinema label by releasing Masaki Kobayashi’s Kwaidan on Blu-ray. The film consists of four Japanese folk tales and is a subtle, slow but beautiful departure in filmmaking, not found in modern horror.

Unlike horror anthologies such as Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors (1965), there is no central story that binds these tales together, we are just presented with them, one after the other, with an intermission half way through – which is a nice touch. Like Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio and the Grimm Fairy Tales, these are Japanese stories that were collected in a book by author Lafcadio Hearn, only told orally by superstitious villagers previously. The Black Hair features a samurai, unhappy with his life of poverty, leaving his wife to marry a noblewoman, which he instantly regrets. However, when he is reunited with his first love, it is not the idyllic life he dreamt of. Next we have Woman of the Snow, in which two woodcutters are caught in a snow storm and the eldest is killed by a ghost. She spares the younger man’s life, only if he swears never to divulge what has happened. The longest tale is Hoichi the Earless, about a blind monk, adept at playing the Baiwa, who is forced to perform a song that details a famous battle between rival clans for a group of ghosts. Finally, we have In a Cup of Tea, a story within a story about a guard who sees a spirit in his brew, which he drinks with terrible consequences. There is certainly common themes running through these stories, the perils of being selfish, not keeping a promise or being too arrogant. Getting involved in the world of the supernatural usually doesn’t end well, and if you do, stick to the rules.

Kwaidan uses small sets with painted backgrounds, but it looks magnificent. The fact the stories are set in different periods of ancient Japan, helps the film age well, and being the early ‘60s, this was an early foray into colour. Kobayashi really takes advantage of this, using his palette masterfully; from deep autumn reds to the use of blue light to denote the presence of something otherworldly. The painted backgrounds of Woman of the Snow feature an ominous eye that foreshadows things to come; a theatrical device perfect for this style of vignette. Of course, any anthology always suffers, due to the disjointed nature of having standalone stories, especially ones with no connecting narrative, Hoichi the Earles, probably staying with us too long. However, Eureka has designed a wonderful package that features the original uncut version, an interview with Kim Newman in which he discusses the film, and a video essay by David Cairns and Fiona Watson that skillfully breaks down the movie and the life of its creator. It’s certainly a testament to Kobayashi that even in high definition, the quality of the sets, lighting and use of angles hasn’t diminished. These stories are truly timeless.

LAST HOLIDAY (1950) / CERT: U / DIRECTOR: HENRY CASS / SCREENPLAY: J. B. PRIESTLEY / STARRING: ALEC GUINNESS, BEATRICE CAMPBELL, KAY WALSH / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

J.B. Priestley’s ability to force his audience to count their blessings is at its sweet and sinister prime in Last Holiday. On the surface, a far simpler concoction than classics like An Inspector Calls or Time and the Conways, it stars Alec Guinness as George Bird, a mild-mannered, even more mild-living salesman, whose accidental misdiagnosis by a tired doctor leads him to think his last days are upon him. He spends his savings at a ‘posh’ hotel where he finds he fits right in with new friends he wouldn’t have had the courage or imagination to approach in the past. His life opens up with job offers and romantic proposals, but only he knows what’s stopping him jumping at all the opportunities.

Sid James as entrepreneur Joe is a delightful mismatch with Guinness, giving a familiar character type a refreshingly different context in a story that champions taking life’s opportunities, not just for yourself but, more importantly, the opportunities to offer kindness to others. While its class politics are dated, the script is ahead of its time in asking us to notice people for who they were and how they behaved to each other, not their background. There are great illustrations not only of how to be on the lookout to assist each other, but how there will always be those who raise their game to take new offers and opportunities life throws them, and those who don’t – that we make our own lives and choices more than a lot of us care to recognise or admit.

The stills gallery won’t change your life, but it’s worth navigating a somewhat iffy sound balance to enjoy the twenty-five-minute interview with cultural historian Matthew Sweet. Priestley’s sense of fate, his expression both of human agency and its limits, is never going to guarantee a happy acceptance both of our agency and its limits mean there’s no guarantee of a happy ending but make Last Holiday’s touching script and gorgeous symbolism a perfect watch right now. See it as a poignant, amusing romance or as a gently sinister reminder about gratitude and awareness, that free will is also a call to arms.

NIGHTS OF CABIRIA (1957) / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: FEDERICO FELLINI / SCREENPLAY: FEDERICO FELLINI, ENNIO FLAIANO, TULLIO PINELLI / STARRING: GIULIETTA MASINA, FRANÇOIS PÉRIER, FRANCA MARZI, DORIAN GRAY / RELEASE DATE: APRIL 6TH

Cabiria is a happy-go-lucky prostitute who struggles through life with a sharp quip and a jaunty Mambo. When her boyfriend steals her money and pushes her into the sea, she swears off love forever. But then she meets the seemingly kind-hearted Oscar, and despite her better judgement is swept off her feet. When Oscar asks Cabiria to marry him and persuades her to sell up her little house and join him in the city, Cabiria believes she is finally leaving the working girl life behind forever. But will it all work out happily ever after for our charming tart-with-a-heart or is fortune about to take Cabiria down another rocky road?

Anyone who’s seen the Shirley Maclaine musical Sweet Charity, which was filmed 12 years after Nights of Cabiria and is based extremely closely on Cabiria’s screenplay, already knows the answer to that question. What you might not be prepared for is how much darker and unsettling this version of the story is.

Nights of Cabiria is one of Federico Fellini’s most celebrated films, and it’s easy to see why. It’s a terrific confection, and Fellini’s pixie-ish wife Giulietta Masina gives a wonderfully rich, heartbreaking performance as the title character. There are some lovely vignettes in here, too: the night when Cabiria meets a surly matinee idol movie star, accompanies him to a ritzy nightclub and charms the stuck-up patrons with her plucky dance moves; the night when she follows a good Samaritan across the Roman countryside, watching him hand out supplies to the homeless people living in the caves, realising with shock that one of the recipients is an elderly woman she used to walk the streets with; the day when she joins a religious procession and asks the Virgin Mary to change her life, drowning her sorrows when she realises that everything remains the same; the evening when she visits a run-down theatre and is hypnotised by the stage magician, unconsciously showing her vulnerability to the entire audience, inadvertently finding romance when the show is ended. Masina is terrific, and it’s no surprise to learn that she based a lot of her performance on Chaplin’s tragi-comic Little Tramp, most notably during the nightclub scenes, that are suffused with comedy and pathos.

The BFI’s Nights of Cabiria Blu-ray, which is a 4K restoration, is beautiful and not to be missed. It’s a shame the special features are so measly, especially considering the position the movie holds in Fellini’s pantheon of masterworks, but that’s a small price to pay when the main feature is so enchanting. Bellissimo!

THE WHITE SHEIK (1952) / CERT: U / DIRECTOR: FEDERICO FELLINI / SCREENPLAY: FEDERICO FELLINI, TULLIO PINELLI / STARRING: ALBERTO SORDI, BRUNELLA BOVO, LEOPOLDO TRIESTE / RELEASE DATE: APRIL 6TH

When a stuffy bureaucrat called Ivan brings his wide-eyed – and much younger – wife Wanda to Rome for their honeymoon, his intentions of introducing her to his family and having their union blessed by the Pope don’t go quite according to plan. Wanda is fixated on a romantic photo-comic montage hero called the White Sheik and sneaks out to meet him while Ivan thinks she’s taking a bath. Thanks to an unlikely series of events, Wanda quickly finds herself heading to the beach with the cast and photographer of the comic montage, where she’s suddenly given the role of a kidnapped beauty. As Ivan desperately scours Rome looking for her and comes up with some desperate excuses to explain why his new bride isn’t available to meet his family, the White Sheik lures Wanda onto a boat and turns up his dodgy sub-basement Rudolf Valentino charm. Fortunately for Wanda, she’s already realised that her dreams about the White Sheik are a lot more enchanting than his greasy, overweight reality, but will the White Sheik’s wife believe that once they’ve made it back to the shore? More importantly, how can Wanda ever reconcile with Ivan, who has just been befriended by two charming prostitutes and appears to have taken one of them up on the offer of her services? Will the shame Wanda feels for abandoning her husband lead her to commit suicide in the murky depths of the Tiber, or will they finally reunite in an unlikely happy ending and see their union blessed by the Holy Father? Spin The White Sheik in your Blu-ray player and watch mayhem and slapstick unfold…

The White Sheik was Federico Fellini’s first solo film. It also comes from a story partially written by Blow-Up director Michelangelo Antonioni. For both those reasons, it’s a movie that devotees of both those directors should track down, and it does show occasional hints of the genius Fellini would soon become. A third reason for enduring The White Sheik is to enjoy Giulietta Masina’s too-brief cameo as the happy-go-lucky prostitute Cabiria, a role she would reprise in one of Felini’s very best offerings, Nights of Cabiria. She’s a joy to watch and gives The White Sheik a much-needed boost of fun and energy.

Beyond that, The White Sheik is unfortunately a bit of a chore to sit through. It looks dated, it makes very little narrative sense, and its comedy of manners and occasional attempts at Charlie Chaplin-esque slapstick is largely lost in translation. Having said that, the special feature about Fellini did make us wonder if we missed something and should give it another watch, but then we decided that life’s too short. The White Sheik might be a masterpiece for Fellini fans, but casual viewers may find themselves getting a little bored.

BEYOND THE DOOR (1974) / CERT: 18 / DIRECTORS: OVIDIO G. ASSONITIS, ROBERT BARRETT / SCREENPLAY: OVIDIO G. ASSONITIS, ANTONIO TROISO, ROBERT BARRETT / STARRING: JULIET MILLS, GABRIELE LAVIA, RICHARD JOHNSON / RELEASE DATE: APRIL 6TH

The Italian Exorcist rip-off subgenre was a brief but bilious period when exploitation producers piled in on demonic possession scripts like gannets on dead fish.  Never mind that not one of these tailgaters came close to William Friedkin’s brilliant original, Linda Blair’s gurgling possession routine had created pop culture’s most bizarre copycat recipe: book yourself a soundstage in Madrid, add in a bed, some dry ice, a woman in a nighty and few crucifixes and off you go, Lucio!

Most of these movies were diabolically bad, of course, but this lesser-known effort from Ovidio G. Assonitis (Tentacles, Piranha II) is worth your attention for being at least half of stylishly strange horror that weaves San Francisco evocatively into its fabric, Hitchcock-style. And just for once, the fact it was made half in an Italian studio and half on location the US doesn’t distract. And if you like shameless rip-offs, the other half is a right laugh, too.

English rose Juliet Mills (Hayley’s sister) stars as Jessica, pregnant with her third child and starting to wonder if it isn’t old Satan that’s got her up the duff this time. Her black moods are not helped by not one, but two strange blokes: her spaced-out husband (Italian Gabriele Lavia, rocking the 1970s Donald Sutherland look and afflicted by some atrocious Italian/English post-synching) and the UK’s very own man-about exploitation Richard Johnson as the mysterious Dimitri, who keeps popping up to proclaim “The child must be born!”. This all feels more The Omen than The Exorcist, but once Jessica is ensconced in her boudoir, swearing her head off and vomiting up the green stuff, she’s right on the money.

It’s a shame, really, that the second half of the film is such a blatant Exorcist clone (Warner Bros actually sued), because Assonitis and his cinematographer Roberto D’Ettorre Piazzoli seem more interested in developing the genuinely strange POV of Jessica’s two odd kids, such as a terrifying psychic attack on their bedroom with a full-on lightshow through the floorboards and walls that wouldn’t have shamed Poltergeist.

This 2-disc set from Arrow presents the original cut and a longer ‘export’ version titled The Devil Within Her, which adds more green bile and creative blasphemy. The short contemporary interviews with Mills and Lavia are fun (“she was cute, but a little old to be playing my wife…”) but the real jewel here is a mammoth dissection of the Italian ‘possession’ movie era, featuring interviews with most of its above-grass progenitors.