Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

DEATH IS A NUMBER (1951) / CERT: NR / DIRECTOR: ROBERT HENRYSON / STARRING: TERENCE ALEXANDER, LESLEY OSMOND, DENIS WEBB / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW (USA) 

The latest release from Juno Films’ newfound partnership with British company Adelphi and BFI is the rare British occult thriller Death is a Number, directed by Robert Henryson. Back in the 40s and 50s, Adelphi films was one of the most prolific distributors of British cinema, so the newfound partnership with Juno Films (who have North American distribution rights to forty or so of their films) will hopefully unveil some little-know gems from forgotten talent.

Playing out like a pre-cursor to Jacques Tourneur’s classic horror film Night of the Demon, Henryson’s rare occult thriller is a short but sweet trip back to British occult of the 50s. By today’s standards, the film is neutered of its fear factor, but enjoyable nonetheless. The formula of Cambridge old boys and their exotic adventures is a symptom of privilege and empire, something that feels hopelessly twee and vaguely classist now.

Like so many classic Lovecraft or M.R. James stories, Henryson’s Death is a Number follows an old well-to-do gent’s reminiscing about a peculiar old friend. The friend, a daredevil race car driver, appears to have been obsessed with a peculiar number-related curse which apparently plagued his family. For the most part, Henryson’s supernatural chiller plays out like a sometimes stale melodrama recounted by a self-important toff. However, when Henryson dips his toes in the supernatural, the film shows off a gorgeous appreciation for eerie weirdness.

As a supernatural horror, Death is a Number holds its cards close to its chest. When it eventually gives in to true Gothic imagery, it offers a charming array of ghostly spooks. Like many films of its era, it achieves an eeriness of atmosphere rather than going for cutthroat scares. Spectral visions are gorgeously actualised, and though the ghosts of Death is a Number have a flitting appearance, they achieve a lasting effect.  It’s a shame that some of the film appears missing and begs a question as to how much more of Henryson’s beautiful ghost work there was to be seen.

At a runtime of forty-five mintues, Robert Henryson’s Death is a Number is a short but sweet tale. Its early fifties approach to the supernatural is surprisingly effective and charming in its simplicity.

THE CARETAKER / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: CLIVE DONNER / STARRING: DONALD PLEASENCE, ALAN BATES, ROBERT SHAW  / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Harold Pinter’s play was a critical success upon its first staging in 1960 and would have a huge impact on theatre in subsequent years. Pinter’s complex and precise use of language and unspoken subtext in this tale of three men and a seemingly almost trivial power struggle taking place in a dilapidated house is open to interpretation and as is the way with unique art can mean vastly different things to each person experiencing it. It’s not an obviously cinematic piece and yet, as the extras supporting this new BFI release make clear, it became a passion project for those involved.

On a brutally cold winter’s night, Aston (Robert Shaw) intervenes to save argumentative vagrant Davies (Donald Pleasence) from a beating and afterwards invites him to stay at his home, a rundown house Aston says he’s going to renovate. When Aston’s brother Mick arrives back at the house that power struggle begins as the devious Davies decides to pit brother against brother to secure his place there, or so he thinks. Through the use of finely honed dialogue and outstanding performances from three actors who inhabit the characters so fully their silences speak volumes, along with sensitive and uncluttered direction from Clive Donner, what unravels is a beautifully human slice of life that is at once brutally clearheaded about our ability to be cruel to each other and deceive and yet emotionally resonant and touching in its handling of our frailties. It’s an outstanding film, ahead of its time in respect of how it handles mental health, and remains profoundly relevant.

A film focussed on the writing and delivery; The Caretaker is necessarily unfussy in visuals. Nevertheless, this new restoration showcases crisp photography from Nicolas Roeg and allows for each nuance of facial reaction to be picked out with ease, the all-important dialogue sharply defined throughout. It comes with a 2002 commentary track featuring Bates, Donner and producer Michael Birkett that is relaxed and full of information on a film all three remained justifiably proud of. Also from 2002 is an introduction from critic Michael Billington, who contributes with a video essay about the play’s transfer to film. Donner appears again in a 1973 discussion about adapting the play for cinemas that runs to just over 45 minutes. Each of these extras cover the production of the film, how it was an early example of crowd-funding of a sort (here actor friends who wanted the film made) and the challenges involved in making what was a labour of love for everyone taking part. There’s also an animated short, alternative US titles and a booklet included with writing on the film. An essential and vital film, highly recommended.

CERT: 12 / DIRECTOR: RICHARD LESTER / SCREENPLAY: CHARLES WOOD / STARRING: MICHAEL CRAWFORD, JOHN LENNON, ROY KINNEAR / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Think of director Richard Lester and it’s very likely that A Hard Day’s Night, Help or Superman II spring to mind. Take a gander at Lester’s back catalogue and one will find it to be littered with stone cold genre classics, made with such notable luminaries as Spike Milligan and Peter Sellers, Sean Connery and Audrey Hepburn. Amongst the hits, there are sadly a great many misses. How I Won the War sits guarding that latter camp.

Scriptwriter Charles Wood based the film on his (banned) stage play Dingo, borrowing heavily from its themes and characters to provide what Lester called an ‘anti-anti-war film’. This, Lester insists, meant he set out to critique the war film and provide audiences with a narrative that shows how the concept of war is profoundly at odds with the basics of humanity – whether the war film is showing ‘good’ or ‘evil’. Unfortunately, this grand vision does not exactly play out on screen.

In brief, 3rd Troop, the 4th Musketeers, are charged with setting up a cricket pitch behind enemy lines during the Second World War. Michael Crawford heads up the regiment as Lieutenant Earnest Goodbody, a proto-Frank Spencer, so inept as a commander that his regiment often try to kill or rid themselves of him. While the film is packed with the cream of British TV and stage talent, the most notable player is a Mr J. Lennon of a hit beat combo of the time. This is his only serious acting role outside of The Beatles’ movies and certainly a small role at that, not that you would think it, as after the film’s release and critical mauling his face was plastered all over subsequent releases to coin in a little more cash off the back of the Fab Four’s popularity.

It is often posited by reviewers that a film is ‘all over the place’, but it is this film for which that phrase was probably coined. The problem is not in the comic stylings of the film nor its absurdist and avant garde portrayal; it is that it throws every one of the aforementioned tropes at the screen hoping something will stick. Here we see documentary, straight to camera, parody, pratfalls and ‘pithy’ one-liners, all coupled with Sassoon-esque dialogue, to the point where it becomes incredibly jarring and looks like an incoherent mess, unequipped to express the grand intent of its director.

Perhaps this is too ‘of its time’ for a modern audience, or maybe we’re missing the point. Either way, this is destined to remain a curiosity piece for Lennon aficionados. Stick to Lester’s masterworks, even perhaps Robin and Marian.

CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: RAINER SARNET / STARRING: REA LEST, JORGEN LIIK, ARVO KUKUMAGI, DIETER LASER / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW (EUREKA VIDEO)

Hailing from Estonia, Poland, and the Netherlands, Rainer Sarnet’s November is a fantasy-tinged Gothic epic and a rare tour through eastern European folklore. Taking us back to a nineteenth century Estonian village, November follows a love triangle between a peasant girl, a village boy, and the daughter of the local baron. With the onset of winter, hard times strike and the people turn to magic and superstition in order to survive.

There just aren’t enough folk horror films out there. You could argue November falls more into a triage of folk, gothic and romance before it ever feels like horror, but Sarnet’s latest is a genre offering nonetheless. Its tastes are dark, its humour black, and the cruel hand of fate, or Satan, holds a tight grip over the narrative. Young lovers vie for each other’s affections, the spirits of deceased relatives return from the dead for a nice family meal, and the local baron struggles to stop his daughter committing suicide whenever there’s a full moon. Those who don’t have the manpower to work their fields in the long winter can sell their souls to Satan so he’ll animate a Kratt: a hodgepodge of tools not dissimilar from a wooden robot. Unfortunately, without constant orders, a Kratt will murder its owner. Aside from all this, the Black Death, personified in numerous forms, stalks the quiet, terrified town. It’s a dangerous and alien world.

For many, the allure of November might be the involvement of German performer Dieter Laser, most famous for his turn as sadistic surgeon Joseph Heiter in The Human Centipede and Bill Boss in the black comedy The Human Centipede 3. Here, Laser is significantly more reserved as the local Baron, cutting about the village in all his finery rocking a head full of stark white hair. Sure he can do eerie when he needs to, but there’s some gorgeously tender, if short, scenes between him and Jette Loona Hermanis.

The charms of November are many, though. The gorgeous white-washed monotone cinematography is dreamy, the conversational surrealism is befuddling and alluring. Characters are lovably honest. The humour is wicked but the affection is sincere. Sometimes November almost feels like an anthology film and, yes, some segments aren’t as intriguing as others. However, there’s so much on offer that a little downtime is just the ticket. It feels like an epic bedtime story, not mean or cruel, just straight. Rainer Sarnet has crafted a unique gothic folk oddity full of vibrancy and soul. November is not to be missed.

CERT: 15 | STARRING: BOB ODENKIRK, RHEA SEEHORN, JONATHAN BANKS, GIANCARLO ESPOSITO | RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Season Four of the exemplary Breaking Bad sequel sees oily wannabe lawyer Jimmy McGill (Odenkirk) – suspended from practising for pretty much the duration of the series – starting to properly embrace his ‘Saul Goodman’ persona as the show edges closer to the timeline of the series that spawned the character. Better Call Saul sails under most people’s radars, but it remains one of the best, most breath-takingly produced series on television. It’s a series put together with utter devotion to the world it inhabits and now, as it starts to drift within sight of Breaking Bad, a determination to reconcile the worlds of both series and satisfy those fans who adored the exploits of Walter White and co and have stayed true to Jimmy/Saul on his journey towards the ultimate fate we know is in store for him.

We pick up in the immediate aftermath of the death of Jimmy’s tortured brother Chuck (Michael McKean who cameos in a couple of timely flashbacks in this run) and, appallingly, Jimmy’s guilt and grief are assuaged the moment his brother’s former law partner Howard Hamlin (Patrick Fabian) appears to admit his part in the process which led to Chuck’s apparent suicide. Jimmy takes this opportunity to absolve himself of any responsibility and sets about crafting a new life and career for himself as he waits for the chance to become reinstated as a lawyer. His partner Kim (the always brilliant Rhea Seehorn) is struggling as a sole practitioner and eventually finds herself drawn back to the dark side of Jimmy’s scams and cons. Meanwhile, Mike Ehrmantraut (Banks) is drawn deeper into the world of the urbane Gus Pring (Esposito) as he plans to set up the infamous crystal meth superlab which was to feature so heavily in Breaking Bad while simultaneously dominating and sabotaging the gangland activities of the hospitalised Hector Salamanca (Mark Margolis). It’s heady, absorbing stuff but, as ever, it’s not for an impatient audience; Better Call Saul moves at its own pace and is more concerned with character colour, nuance, detail and atmosphere than action and spectacle. The writing across all ten episodes here is astonishing, the performances sublime, and the series is easily the best-photographed show on TV, its use of music and montage often helping to tell its story with an audacious economy.

There’s much to enjoy and admire in the show’s second-string plotlines, but Better Call Saul really comes alive when Jimmy and Kim are on screen, and it’s their storyline which is the most compelling and most intriguing. Season Four sees their relationship slowly crumble due to their inability or unwillingness to communicate with one another, but they finally pick up the pieces when Kim finds Jimmy’s dodgy dealings more alluring than her own mundane career. And yet, the pair seem set to split apart for good in the wake of the events of the last episode in which Kim helps Jimmy appeal against the practising board’s decision, in the previous episode, to refuse to return his licence. In an episode as engrossing as anything you’re likely to see on television this year and which also sees Mike  forced into crossing a line to protect the secret of Gus’s lab, the very last scene – and the last line of dialogue – will send a shiver along the spine of any fan, leaving you gasping for Season Five.

Effortlessly brilliant, Better Call Saul Season Four is nearly-flawless stuff, sagging only occasionally and briefly  when the focus moves from Jimmy and Kim and this superb box set (HD was made for long-form television  as well-crafted as this) is a reminder of the glory days of physical media, with commentaries for every episode and a string of well-considered featurettes.

CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: FRITZ LANG / SCREENPLAY: NUNALLY JOHNSON / STARRING: EDWARD G. ROBINSON, JOAN BENNETT, RAYMOND MASSEY / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

Based upon J.H. Wallis’ novel Once off Guard, director Fritz Lang’s 1944 thriller The Woman in the Window is considered to be a cornerstone of the film noir genre. When academic Richard Wanley (Edward G. Robinson) meets the subject of a portrait he has become obsessed with, the alluring Alice Reed (Joan Bennett), Wanley is forced to kill her jealous boyfriend in self defence. Alice persuades him to help her dispose of the body and cover up the crime rather than inform the police. It’s not long before the corpse is discovered and the hunt for the murderer ensues. As Wanley and Alice try to stay one step ahead, they soon find themselves descending further into a nightmare with every twist and turn.

Robinson, best known for playing tough bad guys, gives a stunning performance as the family man whose life is turned upside down by what he thinks is a harmless flirtation. His performance becomes more intense as he slides deeper into the maelstrom. Bennett is also on fine form, in one of her four roles for Fritz Lang, providing a truly seductive performance. The chemistry between Robinson and Bennett is palpable, so it’s little surprise that Lang would want to work with them both again the following year in Scarlet Street.

Atmospheric and expressionist master Fritz Lang’s skills are brilliantly showcased with his use of shadows and low lights that became noir tropes. The pacing of the film is also perfect. Each scene takes just the right amount of time to unfold. Nothing is rushed, which builds the tension to almost unbearable levels.

Eureka’s 1080p presentation of The Woman in the Window is in its original 1.33.1 full frame aspect ratio and, as usual with Eureka!, the picture quality is stunning. The occasional scratch or other such picture noise is sometimes evident, but so clean is the picture that it’s hardly noticeable. LPCM audio (original mono presentation) is clear and sharp, allowing the score to really punch through and accentuate key scenes.

Other special features include the original theatrical trailer, a feature length audio commentary by film historian Imogen Sara Smith, author of In Lonely Places: Film Noir Beyond the City. In her commentary, Smith provides interesting information about the locations, cast and crew, and the film’s score which is something often overlooked. There’s also an exclusive video essay by critic David Cairns with his musings about the film, Fritz Lang’s career and film noir. It makes a perfect companion piece to Smith’s commentary. As with many of Eureka’s presentations, there’s a collector’s booklet featuring new essays by film journalist and writer Amy Simmons and film writer Samm Deighan, alongside rare archival imagery.