Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

THE YEAR OF THE SEX OLYMPICS / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: MICHAEL ELLIOTT / SCREENPLAY: NIGEL KNEALE / STARRING: LEONARD ROSSITER, TOBY VOGEL, BRIAN COX, SUZANNE NEVE / RELEASE DATE: APRIL 20TH

A common format of British TV in the 1960s was the one-off ‘TV play’, including those broadcast in BBC anthology series Theatre 625; one of the most well known and challenging dramas of this strand was 1968’s The Year of the Sex Olympics, written by Quatermass creator Nigel Kneale, which receives a new DVD release courtesy of the BFI.

In the future depicted, society is stratified into the hi-drives and the low-drives. The hi-drives produce repetitive, lowbrow media content for the low-drives to uncritically consume, with the aim of keeping society pacified. Nat Mender (Vogel) works on one such show, ‘Sex Sports’, in which contestants are judged on their sexual abilities, the true aim being to satisfy the audience’s sexual urges so they don’t procreate and the population is kept from growing. But Nat’s not satisfied with this over-controlled life, and when a colleague goes rogue and broadcasts provocative art, he’s inspired to make a change, pitching a show in which he and partner Deanie (Neve) live in the wild “like the before times” as an excuse to get away from it all.

Like if Black Mirror were produced 50 years early, it’s high-concept, cynical sci-fi, and extremely prescient; Kneale was ahead of his time in his prediction of reality TV, and it’s amazing how familiar this world feels to those of us unfortunate enough to have tuned into an episode of Big Brother or Love Island. While it moves towards a seriously grim final act, it also has a sharp sense of humour, particularly in the other shows glimpsed such as erotica ‘ArtSex’ and eating/fighting contest ‘The Hungry Angry Show’.

Kneale’s script is compelling, and the plight of Mender tragically engaging. There are very strong supporting turns from Leonard Rossiter as the TV station’s conflicted controller and Brian Cox as an increasingly psychotic director who delights in his control of both contestants and audience, even if some of the other supporting cast come across too theatrical by today’s standards.

The extras are worth watching, even if mostly repeated from earlier releases. There’s an introduction to the drama by Kim Newman, commentary by Cox, an interview with Kneale, plus an archive featurette about the BBC and a new gallery of Joyce Hammond’s costume designs. Also included is a booklet with new essays.

The highlight of the extras, however, is Le Pétomane, a half-hour comedy starring Rossiter as Joseph Pujol, a fart-based impressionist who wowed crowds at the Moulin Rouge. Essentially half an hour of fart jokes, it’s vastly different to Sex Olympics in tone, the only obvious connection being Rossiter, but it’s a lot of fun and works as a palate cleanser if the main feature has left you feeling down.

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!