Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

MONTY PYTHON’S FLYING CIRCUS: THE COMPLETE SERIES 1 TO 4 / CERT: 12 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: VARIOUS / STARRING: GRAHAM CHAPMAN, JOHN CLEESE, MICHAEL PALIN / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

If you’re a Python fanatic impressed by Network’s beautiful HD restoration of series one of the groundbreaking comedy classic released late last year, you’ll probably be hungry for more and unwilling to wait for the staggered 2020 releases of the rest of the series. You might well be tempted to take a punt on this lavish (if slightly pricey) boxset collection of all four seasons and you’re unlikely to be disappointed even if your credit card is left a little bruised for a while.

What’s left to say about the Pythons and their place in the great pantheon of British comic greats? Monty Python’s Flying Circus debuted on British television on 5th October 1969 and almost immediately became required cult viewing. The show, consisting of a random and undisciplined collection of surreal sketches, often peppered with intellectual and literary references borne out of the group’s Oxford and Cambridge background, and punctuated by disturbing animated sequences and moments of raw slapstick, baffled and confused a staid BBC Sunday night audience. However, across its first thirteen episode run, it not only delivered many of the sketches which sealed its reputation – the parrot sketch, the lumberjack song, Upper Class Twit of the Year, Hell’s Grannies – but it marked the show out as something daringly different with each individual member of the group bringing something new to the table. The lanky, bendy John Cleese was the go-to guy for the physical stuff, Michael Palin was easily the best comic actor, Graham Chapman was often the stuffy authoritarian figure or wild-eyed eccentric, fresh-faced Eric Idle delivered the smooth patter, Terry Jones was very often in drag as the screechy middle-aged housewife and Terry Gilliam supplied the bizarre and memorable animations which wandered throughout the episodes.

Monty Python made its mark in its first season even if the BBC had been less than supportive, bouncing it around the schedules or dropping it on a whim – something the Pythons acidly acknowledged on screen in the very last episode. Series two, debuting in September 1970, sealed the show’s reputation even if the BBC were still edgy. The very first episode introduced the now-legendary Ministry of Silly Walks and episode two sees the arrival of The Spanish Inquisition (which no-one was expecting). The group was now firing on all cylinders, dismantling not just the sketch show format but also challenging the entire notion of broadcast television, especially the stuffy traditions and standards of the BBC. Later on in the series, sketches are started and abandoned and the credits appear halfway through episodes; audiences could never second-guess what the Pythons were going to do next. The second series ended with the notorious ‘Undertaker’ sketch in which Cleese is trying to organise the funeral of his mother only for Chapman’s undertaker to suggest that it might be easier to eat her. The subsequent studio uproar with the audience booing and catcalling and eventually storming the set was in fact carefully staged to satisfy the BBC’s concerns that the entire sketch really was in ‘poor taste’ even though the media missed the point entirely the following day.

Series three, airing from October 1972, contains a few gems – Wicker’s Island, The Summarising Proust Competition, Sam Peckinpah’s Salad Days – and the group are still tampering with form and content but it all seems a little tired with many sketches ambling along to no real end point and often outstaying their welcome or just missing the mark. John Cleese, disillusioned by the third series, opted out of returning for the shortened fourth run (now retitled just Monty Python) that aficionados consider to be a shadow of the show’s earlier days and the series came to an end on 5th December 1974. This was not, of course, the end of Monty Python by any stretch…

The 45 episodes of Monty Python’s Flying Circus have never looked as glorious as they do on this spectacular boxset. Regardless of your views on the issuing of videotaped / SD material in HD, Monty Pythion has clearly benefitted from Network’s considerable restoration work here with the studio material looking crisp and vivid and the filmed inserts and animation sharper than they have ever looked before. By and large it’s not true HD, of course, because it can’t be, but Network has brought an important piece of classic TV history back to life – with acres of supporting material in the form of edits, extended sketches and outtakes – in a manner it really deserves and which its fans, old and new, are bound to appreciate. It’s essential.

THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: YUTAKA UEMURA / SCREENPLAY: KENTA IHARA / STARRING: YUI AOKI, MONICA RIAL / RELEASE DATE: 27TH JANUARY

The pandemic-like explosion of isekai anime is one of the most unfortunate yet understandable trends of the last decade. Who wouldn’t want their escapism to reassure them that there’s life after death? Who wouldn’t want to believe that there’s somewhere better than this hellscape we’re currently living in?

The result, though, is often ridiculous and derivative; an ordinary person dies in an unfortunate way but gets reincarnated in a fantasy world where they have all the powers and magic they need to get through whatever quests are thrown at them.

The Saga of Tanya the Evil is sold as an isekai. And this may have put off some more discerning anime fans, sick of the light-hearted, low-peril fare typical of the genre. But if The Saga of Tanya the Evil is an isekai – and it resembles the genre in only the most superficial way – then it is a perfect example of how to do isekai right.

The show begins with a salaryman, ruthless in his pragmatism, doing whatever needs to be done to climb the corporate ladder. Unfortunately, this leads to his death at the hands of a subordinate he’s just fired. Just before the moment of his demise, the salaryman is contacted by a messenger of God who is angered by the man’s lack of faith, and chooses to rebirth him in a world where he will need faith to survive.

Reborn as Tanya Degurechaff, an orphan with aptitude for magic in a world where mages are used as soldiers in a World War I-like warscape, the salaryman trieS to use the knowledge of his previous life to survive without getting too drawn into the throes of conflict…

The Saga of Tanya the Evil treats war and death in an appropriately dark manner. There is no room for light-hearted banter, or even mercy for one’s enemies, and its recreation of the horrors of that most unpleasant of wars survive the transfer into a paranormal world. Yes, Tanya is slightly over-powered but, just like the best Superman stories, this story is about what she can’t do rather than what she can.

Beautifully animated by NUT, a studio formed to adapt the light novel and manga this story grew from, the series makes good use of a mix of traditional and CGI animation, seamlessly blended for the most part, and some outstanding voice acting by veteran seiyū Aoi Yūki in the title role (appropriately dubbed by her American counterpart Monica Rial on the English soundtrack).

The Saga of Tanya the Evil was one of the hits of the Winter 2017 season, and a feature film continuing the story was released in February 2019. Tanya herself also stars in the non-canon Isekai Quartet anime.

FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: TERRY GILLIAM / STARRING: JOHNNY DEPP, BENICIO DEL TORO, TERRY GILLIAM / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

“Too weird to live, too rare to die.”

From the unmistakeable writing of Hunter S. Thompson comes the movie interpretation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Opening up with journalist Raoul Duke (Johnny Depp) and attorney Dr. Gonzo (Benicio Del Toro) racing down a desert highway in a red convertible on their way to the casino capital of the US, this is a fluorescent and drug-stacked drop into the American nightmare.

As our chain smoking lead Raoul Duke narrates our visit and Dr. Gonzo threateningly but superbly stumbles through Vegas life, we see the duo absurdly attempt to cover press events. However, in their sweaty and almost unconscious state, this somewhat simple task becomes mission impossible. Director / writer Terry Gilliam gives us dizzying / sickening camera angles and clever special effects. The tacky jungle-like pattern coming out of the hotel carpet and the delusional reptile party are now well known, not forgetting the occasional turning corridor which could belong in a Monty Python version of Inception.

Holding paranoid, wacky movements the drunken (to say the least) pair that you don’t want to bump into react with their surroundings and, as messy as it gets and as close as they constantly come to killing each other, you just can’t help but watch to see how they can possibly get through the run time. Although it didn’t initially go down too well with critics and the box office, it has now taken on a life of its own and has even inspired people to follow Raoul Duke into journalism (confirmed by Laila Nabulsi in the special features). Cementing the gaps is a long list of well-used cameos from Cameron Diaz, Gary Busey, Vegas regular Penn and even Hunter S. Thompson himself. Visionary Terry Gilliam pushed as much as he could into this psychedelic ride and, as the film ends with tape recorder memories, you can’t help but accept the fact that it’s going to be a massive feat for anyone to top this delirious take on the book.

Considering the notion that Fear and Loathing is a very visual circus, then 2012 documentary “For No Good Reason” is a solid accompaniment. We get to see Johnny Depp visit the home of artist Ralph Steadman (who, for those that don’t know, spent a lifetime artistically bolstering the writings of Hunter S. Thompson). On top of boasting Ralph’s own explosive material and historical influences, it uncovers the complex mind of Hunter and how the juxtaposition of their two personalities was actually what they needed to make their work thrive.

Also included is a commentary from Terry Gilliam, backed with a bunch of extended interviews. Particular triumphs would be producer Laila Nabulsi who talks about the timeless impression of the film, and a discussion with Benicio Del Toro that interestingly points out how the silent working class people were Hunter’s reflection of the current political climate. If you’re still looking for more, there’s also a star-packed documentary “Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride,” narrated by Nick Nolte.

This is a well-rounded limited edition for any fan or newcomer to the film.

EDGE OF THE AXE / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR: JOSE RAMON LARRAZ / SCREENPLAY: JOAQUIN AMICHATIS / STARRING: BARTON FAULKS, CHRISTINA MARIE LANE, PAGE MOSELY / RELEASE DATE: 21ST JANUARY

With this release, Arrow Video are resurrecting another almost-forgotten slasher from the late 80s from its purgatory and giving it a new lease of life (or death).

Edge of the Axe is set in California but was made in Spain by José Ramón Larraz (of Vampyres notoriety amongst others) and it’s pretty obvious the main concern was making a few bucks on the VHS rental market. There’s nothing new or fresh (especially considering the Golden Age was behind it) in this tale of a masked killer stalking the people of picturesque Paddock County. As the bodies mount up, computer-fixated Gerald and new girlfriend Lillian try to figure out who the killer is while the Sheriff does his best to play down rising town concern.

It’s written-by-committee stuff through and through, from the horny dude leads to the red herrings, wafer-thin characterisation and mid-movie pacing lull that you could find in innumerable films of the time. That said, there are solid performances from all involved who do their best with a basic script. It’s a lot of fun though, and there are a few notable reasons for this. First up, Larraz can’t resist directorial flourishes and there’s more than one sequence in here that has his off-kilter touch. The kills are often suspenseful and bloody and scratch that slasher itch well. And then there’s the ending which places logic in a box, wraps it with a bow and pushes it off to the side of a dusty attic so it can go all out for agreeable final reel nonsense.

The scan here is a 2K restoration and is pretty damn spiffy. There’s almost no hint of damage, night scenes are clear and defined and the Madrid-for-California scenery is beautifully preserved. As for extras, it’s another solid lot from Arrow. There are two commentaries, one moderated by lead Brandon Faulks and another from The Hysteria Continues team. The first is full of enthusiasm and little tidbits from Faulks and the second is fair to the film and benefits from the different opinions of the THC team. There are two interviews, the first with a buoyant Faulks sharing his memories of getting the role and the shoot and the other from make-up artist Colin Arthur. There’s the usual image gallery and new and reversible artwork you would expect, and first pressings get a booklet with writing from the hugely knowledgeable genre expert Amanda Reyes.

If you’re a stalk-and-slash aficionado you really should pick this up because, despite all the other insane crap in the world, we also live in a wonderland where previously abandoned films are gifted love and attention like this. Warmly recommended.

_{8 DAYS / CERT: 18 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: VARIOUS / STARRING: CHRISTIANE PAUL, MARK WASCHKE, LENA KLENKE / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW}

_{There’s a giant asteroid headed towards Earth in eight days’ time and we know what the dramatic score is, don’t we? It’s bound to involve some kind of NASA mission to blast it off course, or a race against time to get the privileged / prettiest few evacuated off-world to start a new life among the stars. At the very least there’ll be a sub-plot involving the President of the United States sacrificing his own place on USS Noah’s Ark for a cute kid, right? Well, stuff all that, because this German production for Sky Atlantic gives this tired SF genre a giant shot in the arm (and few other places as well).}

_{With the population of Germany in the direct “kill zone” (and prevented from leaving the country for shady reasons never fully explained), society breaks down completely and shows its darkest shades of potential. Kids break into abandoned mansions and really do party like there’s no tomorrow; a loving wife (the magnificent Christiane Paul) abandons her equally loving husband for a few last days of dirty sex with her randy policeman lover; a closeted grandfather (Henry Hübchen) seeks out his forbidden wartime male lover and tries to steal him away from his baffled wife; a small business owner (Devid Striesow) is transformed into the murderous tyrant that always lurked beneath the surface and a government official stops at nothing to get a place in the official safety bunker before it’s too late. Desperate people all woven together in a dance of raw emotions that play out in surprising and often shocking ways.}

_{The script by Peter Kocyla, Rafael Parente and Benjamin Seiler, is brilliantly twisty with (for once) excellent rug-pulling flashbacks. The cast all give diamond-sharp performances and the whole production fizzes with a deliciously off-kilter Germanic sensibility that’s about as far away from Bruce Willis in a red spacesuit as it’s possible to get. Special mention should go to composer David Reichelt, whose glacially ominous soundtrack is a character in its own right, staying with you between instalments all the way to an ending which is every bit as haunting as the one Lars von Trier gave us with Melancholia (2011), whose rulebook this borrows from (but don’t let that put you off).}

_{An absolutely gripping, beautifully photographed eight hours of telly.}

ASYLUM / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: ROY WARD BAKER / SCREENPLAY: ROBERT BLOCH / STARRING: PETER CUSHING, ROBERT POWELL, HERBERT LOM, BRITT EKLAND / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Watching an Amicus portmanteau horror movie from the 60s or 70s is like visiting a ‘traditional’ travelling funfair parked on your local recreation ground; you walk in ready for a return to your childhood, and you’re not wrong – you walk out with your balls completely retracted. Milton Subotsky and Max J Rosenberg’s low-budget productions may seem quaint and oh-so-British through modern eyes, but Asylum still has the power to unnerve as surely as that rattling rusty bolt underneath a spinning teacup ride.

These four torrid tales come from the superior pen of Robert Psycho Bloch (the film, that is, not his nickname) and stars bug-eyed David Bowie-alike Robert Powell, in his post-Doomwatch pre-Jesus matinee idol sweet spot, as a young doctor arriving for a job interview at a country asylum run by Patrick Magee. As intros go, it’s about as cool as UK horror gets. Magee being Magee, he eschews a standard competency-based interview format and instead sets Powell the task of sucking up the testimonies of four raving nutters inmates, played by special guest stars Barbara Perkins, Barry Morse, Charlotte Rampling and Herbert Lom, in order to determine which of them is the former head of the establishment. If he can do that, he’s got the gig.

The Perkins opener sets the tone with a re-animated severed head that will make you jump so hard you’ll leave your fingernails in the sofa like cat claws; the second, with Morse as a tailor who weaves a suit from the most abominable cloth, is a true delight of the macabre. The third has a Rampling / Brit Ekland double-act that radiates 70s glam, and the final part, featuring a rampaging little Herbert Lom robot that looks like a demonic Gerry Anderson puppet, resolves matters in outright bizarre fashion. Bloch ensures there are no weak links, injecting each 20-minute segment with the deft character work and playful cruelty that made him a master of his craft.

This new HD upgrade from Second Sight looks reference-quality and comes in a Graham Humphreys art box to drool over. Extras include a cool book, an audio commentary from director Roy “the boy” Ward Baker and plenty of featurettes. Best of the bunch here is an extended 1972 BBC TV visit to the set. Featuring interviews with many of the cast and crew, it majors on Milton Subotsky who is interviewed in the small wooden hut at Shepperton he and Rosenberg called base. He tells it like it is with genial candour, laying bare the Amicus business model of great stories, maximum star power, minimum overheads and as many cool foreground props as possible. It wasn’t broke and it didn’t need fixing.

Special Features – Audio commentary with Director Roy Ward Baker, Camera Operator Neil Binney and film historian Marcus Hearn; Two’s a Company: 1972 On-set BBC report featuring interviews with Producer Milton Subotsky, Director Roy Ward Baker, Actors Charlotte Rampling, James Villiers, Megs Jenkins, Art Director Tony Curtis and Production Manager Teresa Bolland; Screenwriter David J. Schow on Writer Robert Bloch; Fiona Subotsky Remembers Milton Subotsky; Inside The Fear Factory: Featurette with Directors Roy Ward Baker, Freddie Francis and Producer Max J. Rosenberg; Theatrical Trailer; Reversible sleeve featuring new artwork by Graham Humphreys and original artwork

THE HOUSE THAT DRIPPED BLOOD (1971) / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: PETER DUFFEL / SCREENPLAY: ROBERT BLOCH / STARRING: PETER CUSHING, INGRID PITT, CHRISTOPHER LEE, JON PERTWEE / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

During the 1960s, Hammer Studios’ reign of box office terror was under threat. The pretender to the horror crown was Amicus. Amicus’ specialty was the anthology film such as The House That Dripped Blood. Written by the incomparable Robert Bloch, author of Psycho, The House That Dripped Blood sees Scotland Yard Inspector Holloway investigating a mysterious mansion with a macabre history in four tales of the supernatural.

The first tale, Method for Murder, stars Denholm Elliott as a horror writer whose latest literary creation of a crazed killer becomes a reality. Elliott is excellent in the role, and with the use of clever camera angles and filters, it’s hard not to feel Elliot’s increasing paranoia. The conclusion has a double twist, with the second twist making up for the very generic first twist.

Next comes Waxworks starring Peter Cushing and Joss Ackland as two old friends whom discover a waxwork of a lost love in a local waxwork museum. Events then become a bit ‘choppy’ for them both. Although Cushing and Ackland both deliver fine performances this is the weakest segment.

The third tale, Sweets for the Sweets has Christopher Lee as a strict and aloof father to a lonely little girl. There’s a palpable sense of tension between the two that builds to a shocking denouement, which makes this segment the strongest.

Finally The Cloak has Jon Pertwee as an arrogant horror film star whose insistence on authenticity in his latest film has unexpectedly dire consequences. This is the comedy piece of the ensemble which includes a good humoured dig at Hammer. The scene in question has Pertwee lamenting the state of horror films with their minuscule budgets, inexperienced directors (The House That Dripped Blood was director Peter Duffell’s first feature), and lack of realism not like the classics, “… Frankenstein, The Phantom of the Opera, Dracula. The one with Lugosi, of course, not that other fella.”

Blu-ray extras include audio commentary with director Peter Duffell and author Jonathan Rigby; an audio commentary with film historian and author Troy Howarth; interview with second assistant director Mike Higgins who points out that the copy of The Lord of the Rings that Christopher Lee is seen reading in the film was in fact Lee’s own copy, and that thirty years later he’s Saruman in Peter Jackson’s adaptations; ‘A Rated Horror Film’ is a vintage feature featuring interesting interviews with director Peter Duffell and Ingrid Pitt amongst others; theatrical trailers from around the globe; radio spots and a stills gallery that features much of Amicus’ catalogue with accompanying radio adverts as a soundtrack. These highlight just how film marketing has changed throughout the decades.

The House That Dripped Blood is somewhat of a misnomer as the house is clearly anaemic with not a single drop of blood being dripped. But that doesn’t matter as the film is such a well-crafted, lovingly made venture that it’s easy to overlook that point. There’s not a single bad performance and the direction is confident and assured with some brave choices in lighting and camerawork. Undoubtedly tame by today’s standards, but nonetheless an absolute Amicus classic brimming with class and charm.