Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

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.

THE NIGHT CLERK /CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: MICHAEL CRISTOFER / STARRING: TYE SHERIDAN, ANA DE ARMAS, HELEN HUNT / RELEASE DATE: APRIL 6TH

The Night Clerk is a film built on the brilliant central performance of Tye Sheridan (Ready Player One), who plays Bart Bromley, an autistic hotel worker who studies people so he can be less socially awkward. The film opens up many interesting possibilities but never really explores any of them fully, leaving us with a compelling idea that never comes to life.

We are introduced to Bart with a great aerial shot of him driving to work, his car snaking in and out of a suburban grid he lives with his caring but worried Mum, played by Helen Hunt and works the night shift in a local hotel. We quickly learn that Bart has rigged some of the rooms with cameras, spying on the guests, so he can learn their mannerisms and work on his own conversation skills, which as we find out from his interaction with the guests, are lacking, often just spouting a monologue of facts at them. Things soon get more complicated when a guest is murdered in one of the rooms, and when Bart runs in to help, he becomes the main suspect in the eyes of John Leguizamo’s detective Espada. Even though his video of the crime could clear him, he is understandably reluctant to reveal his voyeuristic tendencies. When he is transferred to a smaller hotel, he falls for seductive but troubled Andrea (de Armas, becoming Hollywood’s go-to seductress, melting the screen with her eyes as always).

The initial synopsis of the film implies an unsettling tone, a mystery unfolding in a dark hotel, a cross between 2007’s Vacancy and Hitchock’s Rear Window – but this is not what we get, there is no tension, nor a satisfying mystery to uncover, we find out the murderer fairly quickly and due to the small cast, there is no-one else it could have been. The relationship between Bart and Andrea is also promising, she describes her own experience with a brother with autism and they seem to share a bond, however this doesn’t really go anywhere in the end, we are not sure if she ever really cared for him, or is using him for her own gain. Helen Hunt is also a little wasted, we learn that her husband died, but we only get a glimpse of her character and relationship with her son, except for eating dinner over video link.

As aforementioned, Tye Sheridan is the real star of the show, displaying Bart as eccentric but not a freak, just someone trying to interact with the world, this is highlighted in a dream he has, in which he converses ‘normally’ with Andrea, in a touching moment, showing how Bart would like to be viewed. The Night Clerk is skillfully edited and presented, with some nice time-lapse montages, it just isn’t quite sure what kind of film it wants to be, and feels like a missed opportunity in tense psychological horror. Sheridan and de Armas are clearly ones to watch though.

PHASE IV (1974) / CERT:12 / DIRECTOR: SAUL BASS / SCREENPLAY: MAYO SIMON / STARRING: NIGEL DAVENPORT, MICHAEL MURPHY, LYNNE FREDERICK/ RELEASE DATE: APRIL 6TH

It’s not unreasonable to hope that a film about an evolutionary shift in the ant population causing a threat to humanity when the insects develop a collective intelligence and a cross-species hive-mind mentality might deliver a few deliciously cheesy thrills in the style of 1954’s classic Them!, in which giant ants invaded the storm drains of Los Angeles. But wait up; Phase IV hails from 1974, smack in the middle of that strange nowhere space between the lurid exploitation genre films of the 1950s and 1960 and the big budget extravaganzas that would follow in the wake of the likes of Jaws in 1975 and Star Wars in 1977. Sci-fi movies in the 1970s were not only few and far between as the genre had fallen out of favour somewhat, they were also attempting to be little more thought-provoking in an attempt, presumably, to avoid being tarred with the brush that had tainted the genre’s reputation in previous decades. Some higher profile crowd pleasers slipped through the net, though, and the likes of The Omega Man and Soylent Green are rightly lauded for their prescience as well as their sense of adventure. Phase IV falls on the wrong side of the fence; it’s very much an art house sci-fi movie and it’s really very dull indeed.

Two scientists (Davenport and Murphy) set up a computerized domed laboratory in an area of significantly-heightened ant activity in the Arizona desert near a cluster of strange towers that the ants appear to have built. The film rather unsubtly contrasts the ‘worker’ scientists busy in their enclosed environment with the worker ants scuttling around in their colonies. Chemical weapons have no effect on the ants, who eventually infiltrate the laboratory and compromise all the scientific equipment. The scientists are torn as to how to best deal with this new threat. Lesko (Murphy) believes he can communicate with the ants but Hubbs (Davenport) favours wiping the nest out and killing the queen. But Hubbs has been ‘bitten’ and starts to become delirious and the presence of Kendra (Frederick), who has taken refuge with the scientists, seems to be somehow making things worse.

Phase IV is an interesting curio but really little more. The core idea of sentient ants rarely comes across as a genuinely troubling threat to the ecosystem. Wildlife photographer Ken Middleham’s insect sequences are beautifully filmed, often fascinating, and occasionally a bit disturbing (real ants were clearly harmed in the making of the film) but the human characters are dry and starchy and the narrative’s sluggishness and the generally cold and clinical nature of the story and its settings makes the whole thing hard to relate to or much care about. The original ending to the film (rediscovered in 2012 and included as a special feature on this new 2-disc release) imagined a ‘new world’ where humanity has been subsumed and altered by the evolution of ant intelligence but was excised before the film’s release by the distributor. The theatrical ending is vague and ambiguous with a voice-over from Lesko admitting that he doesn’t know what the ants are planning and that he is awaiting further instructions. It’s a flat and lifeless ending to a film that squanders the potential of its concept by listless direction – Saul Bass never directed a feature film again thanks to Phase IV’s poor reception – and a visual palette that rarely rises above the bland and a script that abandons any attempt at pace and tension and tumbles into a pit of self-indulgence and bland scientific detachment. The film looks fairly crisp, if occasionally a little grainy, and it’s supported by the usual comprehensive set of special features we’ve come to expect from 101 Films. But ultimately, Phase IV is little more than a fitfully interesting example of the middle ground occupied by science fiction cinema in the early 1970s where it was neither fish nor fowl or, in this particular case, ant.

THE MAD MAGICIAN (1954) / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: JOHN BRAHM / SCREENPLAY: CRANE WILBUR / STARRING: VINCENT PRICE, MARY MURPHY, EVA GABOR, PATRICK O’NEAL / RELEASE DATE: MARCH 30TH

The Mad Magician tells the story of Don Gallico (Price), magician, master of disguise and inventor of stage-effects that wow the late 19th century audiences that come to the shows of big stars like The Great Rinaldi. Gallico wants to take to the stage himself but is thwarted by the contract he has with businessman Ross Ormond that effectively means everything Gallico creates, Ormond owns and can sell off to the likes of Rinaldi to present as their own ideas. Events conspire to ensure Don snaps and a murderous campaign of revenge follows.

Made and released a year after Price’s first big horror hit, House of Wax, this was also presented in 3D. Directed with solid style by the reliable John Brahm, it’s an entertaining tale of frustrated ambition and homicidal rage. Although Price gives his usual committed performance, there’s less to it than Andre DeToth’s colourful classic and Gallico has little of Henry Jarrod’s melancholy tragedy in his backstory (he apparently didn’t read the contract he signed so maybe it’s actually on him). But that doesn’t stop The Mad Magician being a worthwhile part of Price’s villainous portfolio of characters and if you love the great man’s work, you’ll find much to enjoy here.

This new release from Powerhouse Films presents the film in fine form. A 2K restoration shows off the crisp black and white photography and is as clear and sharp as you could hope for and there’s both 3D and 2D versions. For extras, there’s a good selection that compliments the main feature. We start with a brand-new audio commentary from film historians Kevin Lyons and Jonathan Rigby.  Lyons and Rigby are both very knowledgeable and enthusiastic and the commentary ticks along like a conversation between two friends (that’s a compliment). There’s an appreciation of the 3D boom of the 1950s from cinematographer Frank Passingham as well as a Super 8 version of the film. Two short films from the Three Stooges are also presented in 2D and 3D and there’s a standard set of imagery gallery and trailer. The limited edition first run of this Blu-ray also includes a booklet with essays (including one from Kat Ellinger) and guides to the promotional material and critical responses to the film at the time it was released.

For a Price film that isn’t frequently discussed when talk turns to his horror output, this is a rounded and thoughtful package and comes recommended, and if you’re a fan of Vincent then consider it an essential addition to your collection.

DOCTOR WHO – THE FACELESS ONES / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: GERRY MILL, ANNEMARIE WALSH / SCREENPLAY: DAVID ELLIS, MALCOLM HULKE / STARRING: PATRICK TROUGHTON, FRAZER HINES, ANNEKE WILLS, MICHAEL CRAZE/ RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

The BBC’s latest animated reconstruction of one of many frustratingly missing early Doctor Who serials, presented in a generous three-DVD set, brings second Doctor Patrick Troughton down to Earth in 1960s London to investigate the mysterious disappearance of thousands of teenagers jetting off on exotic European holidays and the activities of the sinister Chameleon Tours. Two episodes of the original serial remain in the BBC Archive and they offer tantalising hints of a pacey, if ultimately unexceptional, contemporary story (always the best setting for Who adventures) blessed with a good script and some genuine creepy intrigue. The Faceless Ones never seemed destined to be regarded as one of the show’s classics but rather a solid, entertaining bedrock Doctor Who serial that gets the job done and helps set the scene for the epic (and also largely missing) Evil of the Daleks that was to follow.

All six episodes of the serial (the remaining episodes are also available here) have now been animated (in colour and moody monochrome options) and it’s probably the most satisfyingly realised animated release yet. Previous efforts (Power of the Daleks and The Macra Terror) somehow failed to fully engage and the attention often wandered as perfunctorily animated characters tottered around samey-looking locations and the stories didn’t seem to linger in the memory. The Faceless Ones works a little better because of its ‘modern day’ (i.e. 1966) setting and because of slightly more ambitious (if still slightly Captain Pugwashy) animation which makes the episodes more digestible than its predecessors.

The Faceless Ones is a perfectly serviceable mid-tier Who yarn that gives plenty of room for some four-square characterisation from guest actors like Bernard Kay, Colin Gordon, and especially Pauline Collins as Samantha Briggs (a character briefly considered as a potential new companion until Collins opted not to stay with the series) who has travelled to Gatwick from Liverpool to find out what’s happened to her missing brother. It’s classic 1960s Who as the Doctor and his friends (Jamie, Ben, Polly) materialise on the runway at Gatwick and are chased by security Police before stumbling upon the strange alien technology of Chameleon Tours. Ben, and Polly quickly disappear from the story (they return in the last episode just to say farewell to the Doctor and Jamie now that they are back in their own time period) leaving the famous Doctor/Jamie partnership to come into its own as the pair try to persuade the incredulous Gatwick authorities that there’s something distinctly extra-terrestrial going on.

Of course, the animation is never really going to be a decent substitute for watching the actual performances – Troughton’s quirky turn as the Doctor can never really be caught by such fairly flat animation – but the six episodes fly by agreeably enough, the story is linear and interesting, and by the end, you’ll actually feel that you’ve experienced a pretty fair approximation of the story as it was shown on TV. Pixar won’t be suffering any sleepless nights worrying about the animation techniques and some die-hards will find their feathers ruffled by little onscreen nods to later events in the show’s history (a poster in a Police station clearly marks out Roger Delgado and Sacha Dhawan’s Master as ‘wanted’) but if, as it now appears, there’s precious little chance of any more missing Who being returned to the archives, these animations are probably the best way to acquaint ourselves with long-lost, long-forgotten adventures from the show’s more innocent early days.

THE MAD MAGICIAN (1954) / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: JOHN BRAHM / SCREENPLAY: CRANE WILBUR / STARRING: VINCENT PRICE, MARY MURPHY, EVA GABOR, PATRICK O’NEAL / RELEASE DATE: MARCH 30TH

Following House of Wax, the Vincent Price vehicle that was a massive 3D hit, writer Crane Wilbur sought to replicate the success with the actor and the extra dimension with this fun tale of a homicidal magician.

Price plays trick designer Gallico, whose hopes to make a name for himself on the stage rather than creating them for the glory of others. Trapped by his contract, he does away with those in his way and adopts their personas thanks to his remarkable masks.

While not as famous as House of Wax, The Mad Magician has some similar story beats and has some genuine thrills. Price is fantastic as usual, and the methods of dispatch are suitably devious (particularly the buzz saw contraption for handy beheading and a portable cremation device), which adds to the fun. Plot wise, it’s a predictable affair, but Prices’ disguises are ingenious and very effective (well, they certainly fool the characters on screen!).

The new Indicator release thankfully includes both the ‘flat’ and 3D versions, the latter being particularly effective. There’s glorious depth to the image and if the foreground effects don’t pop as well as they should, it doesn’t matter as it’s surely the way it should be seen. Great care was obviously made in setting the shots up and it adds, dare we say, an extra dimension to the fun of the movie. There’s also a wealth of extras on the disc, including a 3D chat about the film and its place in the history of the third dimension. We also get two shorts starring The Three Stooges, also presented in both 2D and 3D. These may feature the Shemp line-up rather than Curly, but are still a lot of slapstick fun for those not adverse to their brand of humour.

Although the home 3D phase may be over, it’s well worth keeping hold of the equipment when gems like this get released, and Indicator should be applauded for offering the film in its original format. Even if you don’t possess 3D capacity, it’s an effective film that deserves its classic status.