Tag: Blu-ray

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Blu-ray film review

Suntan (Dir. Argyris Papadimitropoulos, 2017)

In keeping with 2015’s Chevalier and The Lobster, Argyris Papadimitropoulos’ Suntan also places masculinity and middle-age under the microscope, it also happens to be Greek. Billed as a “coming of middle-age story”, it focusses upon Kostis (Maki Papadimitriou) who arrives on the island of Antiparos to take over as the new Doctor. As his new found friend Takis (Yannis Tsortekis) – think Chet Pussy (Cheech Marin) in From Dusk Till Dawn – explains only during the summer months does the island come to life and teems with tourists who inhabit the camping site just outside of the small city centre.

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This summer brings with it, Anna (Elli Tringou), Jason (Dini Hart), Alin (Hara Kotsali), Mila (Milou Van Groesen) and Morten (Marcus Collen); an obnoxious bunch of youths who are determined to enjoy their holiday to the nth degree. They soon find themselves in Kostis’ examination room when Anna falls off her bike and upon treating her, the good doctor’s heart begins to flutter.

The sun, sea, and sand serves as a glorious backdrop, making sufficient use of lens flare as Kostis starts to “accidentally” run into the group who all seem intent on encouraging him and using him to amuse, abuse and buy them beer. They are sexually liberated spoilt brats whose nubile tanned taut flesh is often shot juxtaposing the Doc’s pale, hairy middle-aged paunch – the camera shames him and objectifies them, especially Anna.

His overeagerness is sweet yet cringeworthy and his lack of self-awareness overwhelming. We are initially invited, perhaps even encouraged to feel for him, he’s lonely, he missed the boat in some areas of life, he has regrets of youth, it’s easy enough but then, things take a turn.  His unlikely friendship with the woman half his age becomes an obsession, and his entitlement and aggressive behaviour gives way to darkness and a misogyny that is breathtaking.

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Papadimitriou embodies the sad-sack Kostis beautifully and while the ending comes as a bit of a shock, the lead up to the breakdown is heartbreaking and difficult to watch. Call it a cautionary tale or a painful parable yet Suntan is a solidly directed and acted Greek (New Wave) tragedy, however, where The Lobster and Chevalier relied upon biting satire within its drama, this falls short of humour and just plays out as dark, upsetting, and all a bit mean.

EXTRAS

Interview with director Argyris Papadimitropoulos (26 mins) –  Delivered in segments the director discusses the origins of the film, script, casting, and filming. Papadimitropoulos has a long standing history with the island of Antiparos, having began visiting at aged 16, he never wanted to recreate on film but depict it as it truly is. He talks about where the idea for the script came from (actually following his reading of Michel Houellebecq’s Whatever) which made him think of those who have access to pleasure and those who don’t. Thinking on the dichotomies in the film, it makes sense even down to the casting of the non-professional and inexperienced Elli Tringou opposite the “genius” of Makis Papadimitriou. This in depth sit-down with Suntan‘s filmmaker is really interesting and well worth watching after the main feature.

The Making of Suntan (15 mins) – A run-of-the-mill behind the scenes documentary-style featurette with a seriously good soundtrack, very Club La Luna, and in complete contrast to the previous extra.

Deleted Scenes – These include ‘Boogaloo’, ‘Downhill’, ‘Kalargyros’, ‘Milu Pees’ and ‘Camping’.

Theatrical Trailer

1080p Presentation on the Blu-ray|Progressive encode on the DVD|5.1 Surround and Stereo soundtrack options|Optional English subtitles (containing 1 or 2 errors)

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Blu-ray film review

The Untamed (Dir. Amat Escalante, 2018)

Never one to shy away from the confrontational, Amat Escalante’s follow up to the unflinchingly brutal Heli (2012) is available now on DVD and Blu-ray courtesy of Arrow Films and its Arrow Academy label.

Straddling science fiction, horror and a Mexican kitchen sink drama, The Untamed, begins with a lingering shot of a meteor hovering in space. Its crash to Earth occurs off-camera but leaves a large crater in its wake and t brought something with it. That ‘something’ has tentacles, presumably a respiratory system of sorts, despite having no visible organs or features, and has taken up residency in the barn of an ageing couple (played by Oscar Escalante and Bernarda Trueba). It has a regular visitor in the form of Verónica (Simone Bucio) who, well it’s never made implicit what or how she serves the alien form despite strong indications; only that on this occasion, she is injured and forced to leave and find aid.

Shocked and bleeding, she seeks refuge in a local hospital where her wound is treated by Fabián (Edén Villavicencio) and one thing leads to another and the lonely and somewhat mysterious Verónica inserts herself into the gay nurse’s life and by extension his sister Ale (Ruth Ramos) and her less-than-blissful domestic set-up with cheating, bullish homophobe husband Ángel (Jesús Meza) and their two small boys. The stranger convinces them that the life form which resides in that barn is the answer to their problems just prior to and even after devastating, irreparable tragedy.

Apparently made as a direct response to chauvinism, mainstream homophobia and the moral perception of tragedy, this fantastical allegory builds atmosphere with a literal humming buzz in the diegesis and taps into our basest primitive state, and the relationship between pain and pleasure. This dichotomy is beautifully depicted through Ale and Angel’s youngest son and his love of chocolate, he knows he’s allergic but can’t resist. Those moments of gratification are worth it, even if it means an angry-looking itchy red rash and a prodding injection. Seemingly, for the adults, pain and pleasure mature through sex and violence, however, this is never fully connected within the film’s narrative, the strange alien life force or the human subjects.

The Untamed deals with hefty subject matters and is a human drama within a sci-fi-erotic-horror film. Several scenes are clearly influenced by Andrzej Žulawski (the late filmmaker is even acknowledged in the closing credits), there are moments which feel Cronenbergian, and even includes a scene which reminded of von Trier’s Antichrist (2009). The horror aspects never feel forced and are fascinating, specifically the creature, one is drawn to it much like the lost souls in the film yet it’s not given that much screen time. Sadly, it is in the human drama aspect that the film falls down. There was an intensity, rage and heft to Heli and even Žulawski’s Possession (1981) (if we’re to take that as the main text of inspiration) which feels missing here; yes it’s subversive, intelligent, and well put together but overall muted and a little disappointing.

DISC EXTRAS

The Making of The Untamed (84 mins) – this in-depth footage takes us behind the scenes with the cast and crew of the film, shot by one the film’s composers and the director’s brother, Martín Escalante. There are fascinating moments, warm interludes between filmmaker and his collaborators – who seem to compromise of some long-term friends and family members – and laborious retakes in shooting. Amat Escalante is a perfectionist, that much is clear.

Amarrados (Tied Up) (15 mins) –  Escalante’s first short which took first prize at the 2002 Voladero International Film Festival in Mexico and won him Best Short and Best Director at the Newport Beach International Film festival in 2003. Shot in black and white, the film centres around Niño (Abel Diaz), a young homeless boy who’s stuck in a vicious cycle of sexual abuse and glue-sniffing. There’s a beauty amid the misery in this short, in which class, race and religion are alluded to and Escalante’s follow-shot is included: a great edition to the disc.

First Pressing Only – Booklet featuring new writing on the film by critic and author Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, writing by critic Jonathan Romney, the director’s statement and extracts from the press book, illustrated with original stills (unavailable at the time of review).

Region: B/2|Rating 18|Language: Spanish|Subtitles: English/English SDH|Aspect Ratio: 1.66:1|Audio: Mono|Colour|Discs: 1

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Blu-ray film review

Don’t Torture a Duckling (Dir. Lucio Fulci, 1972)

Of the three main maestros of Italian horror, it is Lucio Fulci who is regarded the most lurid, gory, even the trashiest of the trio, or at least he might have been once upon a time. Following many of the tropes associated with the genre, this Giallo also touches on prostitution, child murder, paedophilia, religion, truth, loss, and motherhood, Don’t Torture a Duckling is replete with symbolism and depth, the term ‘masterpiece’ has been somewhat cheapened over the years but this could well be Fulci’s.

Opening in rural Southern Italy, the landscape is split by an ugly concrete motorway bringing with it a bit of modernity; prostitutes, and the ‘outsiders’ (following the first of the murders) in the form of rich ex-drug addict Patrizia (Barbara Bouchet) and city journalist Andrea (Tomas Milian). The idyll of the small village is rocked when the first of the boys, Bruno, goes missing. His brutal murder is quickly followed by the senseless deaths of his friends Michele, and Tonino. Suspicions soon lead to a local ‘witch’ Magiara (Florinda Bolkan), one-time student of eccentric black magic-practitioner Francesco (George Wilson), and of course because of her difference – even after she is exonerated – some local men take the law into their own torturous and contemptible hands, little do they know that the real culprit is much closer to home. It is down to Patrizia and Andrea to work together and expose the killer before he/she strikes again.

Mixing the thematic and stylistic tropes of the giallo with Gothic horror, Fulci makes women the interesting subjects in the narrative, especially Bolkan who is not only the most sympathetic character but whose performance is exceptional. In a film about the destruction of innocence and child murder, it isn’t actually their disturbing deaths that are the most shocking. Fulci builds the superstition and style, mood, tone and atmosphere with light and  bright wide exterior shots and juxtaposes them with claustrophobic dark interiors and yet subversively, just as the killer comes from within the community so, too, are these children killed outdoors.

Violence is, as one can expect, never shied away from and a truly gripping story intensifies to an emotional and visceral crescendo which is unforgettable thanks mainly to the editing and that slightly grating piece of pop music used to accompany the brutality. Yes, the effects are a little dated and the acting, a tad histrionic but it’s in keeping with the genre and boy, what a social commentary it provides. Traditional, old-fashioned values and small-town mentality are pulled apart and what goes hand-in-hand with that? Religion. Understandably, this film courted controversy in the eyes of the Catholic Church especially given the film’s ending, which is almost gleeful in its transgression (the director’s own Catholicism making it all the more delicious and rebellious) especially considering it’s length, audacity and those gratuitous close-ups.

While Lucio Fulci never seemed to have the sumptuous production value of Mario Bava or the operatic visual mania of Dario Argento, he’s integral to the period, Gialli, and Italian horror – Don’t Torture a Duckling more than proves that and now, thanks to Arrow Video you can view it in all its lurid high definition gory glory.

DISC EXTRAS

The Blood of Innocents (30 mins) – This video essay is delivered by Dr. Mikel J. Koven from the University of Worcester and author of La Dolce Morte: Vernacular Cinema and the Italian Giallo Film. He discusses the concept of ‘vernacular cinema’ (those films which tend to avoid the bourgeoise mainstream audience) with enthusiasm and makes this a fascinating lecture. While it is ultimately a bloke behind a desk, the essay is intercut with many clips of multiple film texts which fall under the Giallo umbrella including work from Sergio Martino, Dario Argento, Pupi Avati, and Antonio Bido.

Hell is Already in Us (20 mins) – Written and narrated by Kat Ellinger, this audio essay focusses on violence and gender with Ellinger defending the claim that Lucio Fulci was a misogynist filmmaker. She refers specifically to his 1982 New York Ripper and Don’t Torture a Duckling to state her case; that Fulci confronts the taboo and uses his art-form to comment upon civilisation and depicting oppressive patriarchal society in all its evil glory.

Audio Interview (Part 1: 20 mins/Part 2: 15 mins) – In August 1988, journalist Gaetano Mistretta sent a letter with a list of questions to the filmmaker and Fulci recorded an audio tape complete with all his answers and sent it back to Mistretta. It’s a great listen full of personal anecdotes about his process, his grandchildren even though we all know, he adds with a chuckle, that “children are monsters”, his favourite filmmakers (Argento, Cronenberg, Kubrick and Bava) and the correct length of a horror film (it’s 80 mins btw).

Interview with Florinda Bolkan (27 mins) – Filmed for Freak-O-Rama in 2016, one of Don’t Torture a Duckling‘s leading ladies chats about her experiences on set with Fulci (having completed A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin the previous year with him), whom she deemed a gentle man and genius. Discussion turns to that scene and despite never viewing it in its entirety, she agrees to watch it for the first time in 44 years, and is understandably horrified by it. Additional segments from this 2016 programme are also contained in the special edition content , all include those involved with Duckling including: The DP’s Eye (45 mins) – time spent with cinematographer Sergio D’Offizi, From the Cutting Table (25 mins) – assistant editor Bruno Micheli takes us through his process and in Endless Torture (15 mins) make-up artist Maurizio Trani talks his history with make-up, Fulci and the special effects used during the Bolkan scenes.

Audio Commentary provided by Troy Howarth, author of So Deadly, So Perverse: 50 Years of Italian Giallo Films.

Reverse sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Timothy Pittides.

First pressing only: collector’s booklet with new writing on the film by Barry Forshaw and Howard Hughes (not available for review).

Region: AB 1/2|Rating 18|Language: Italian/English|Subtitles: English|Aspect Ratio: 2.35:1|Audio: Mono|Colour|Discs: 2

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Blu-ray film review

Witness For the Prosecution (Dir. Billy Wilder, 1957)

A year barely passes without an Agatha Christie adaptation hitting the BBC, while they all have their merits they are rarely as enjoyable as Billy Wilder’s version of Witness For the Prosecution. Made in ‘57 and released a year later, it was the first film adaptation based on Christie’s play adapted from her own short story which opened on stage in London during 1953.

The courtroom drama – set mostly in London’s Old Bailey – centres upon Sir Wilfrid Roberts Q.C. (Charles Laughton) who is recovering from a heart attack and vows to avoid (at his Doctor’s behest) criminal cases for the foreseeable. Enter Leonard Vole (Tyrone Power) who stands accused of murdering a Mrs. Emily French (Norma Varden), the older rich widow who had become rather attached to the affable and attractive Vole after their perfect meet-cute via the window of a milliners. She even made the eggbeater inventor (yes, really) the main beneficiary of her will. While everything points to Vole as the killer, Sir Wilfrid believes in the accused’s innocence and takes on his case. First on the agenda is speaking to the man’s alibi, his wife Christine (an impressively stoic Marlene Dietrich).

Wilder co-wrote the screenplay, this time with Harry Kurnitz. The director was on a break from a regular collaborator following his acrimonious split with Charles Brackett, and had written only the one screenplay – Love in the Afternoon – with I.A.L. Diamond. Witness For the Prosecution was the last before he and Iz would cement their writing relationship with Some Like it Hot (1959) and The Apartment (1960).

What strikes most about this Witness… is the humour. Unsurprising given the acerbic, wry wit which peppers every Wilder screenplay, however, it would all be nothing without the performances which make this film. Power – in his final film before his death – is solid as prime suspect Vole, prone to histrionics but what man potentially facing the death penalty isn’t? Dietrich gives fine Garboesque support as his secretive wife Christine. The star of this particular show, however, is Laughton.

The British veteran actor clearly had a ball with Sir Wilfrid, producing a playful performance; sympathetic and incredibly funny. Given his history of heavy drama and those darker roles, it really is a joy to see especially in his scenes with nurse Miss Plimsoll (Elsa Lanchester). There is no Plimsoll in the original Christie play\short story, she is the creation of the screenwriters. Although, a safe assumption is that the casting was all Wilder. Choosing Lanchester, given her and Laughton’s working and personal relationship was a genius move and provides more than one deliciously raucous moment between the husband and wife.

Granted, it has been 61 years and few will view this without prior knowledge of the plot and the ending(s) (of which there are several). Despite the imploring voiceover the end credits: “The management of this theatre suggests that for the greater entertainment of your friends who have not yet seen the picture, you will not divulge, to anyone the secret of the ending of Witness For the Prosecution.” It doesn’t hamper the viewing experience of Eureka! Entertainment’s – courtesy of their Masters of Cinema series – lovely package of the film, which is available on Blu-ray for the first time in the UK.

The 1080p presentation (with an uncompressed LPCM mono soundtrack) contains a number of extras which only enhance the main feature. This includes audio commentary provided by critic and Diabolique Editor-in-Chief Kat Ellinger.

Monocles and Cigars: Simon Callow on Charles Laughton (15:48) – Actor\writer Callow discusses WFTP in relation to Laughton, his performance in the film and his career as both an actor and director of stage and screen. He also briefly touches upon Laughton’s closeted love life and relationship with Elsa Lanchester which in itself was an unconventional and enduring love story. This feature is nowhere near long enough, Callow’s such an interesting interviewee and commanding presence who clearly adores his subject matter.

The Interview with Neil Sinyard (24:32) is slightly longer as the Professor of Film Studies discusses Billy Wilder’s career and collaborators. Sinyard focusses on the “lesser-known” films in the émigré writer-director’s oeuvre, like The Spirit of St. Louis (1957), Love in the Afternoon (1957), One, Two, Three (1961) and Hold Back the Dawn (1941), (all highly recommended by this reviewer). He talks specifics and comparisons between the stage play and film versions of WFTP, comedy and character. It’s a must-see for Wilder fans or even if you’re discovering the director for the first time.

Billy Wilder on Witness For the Prosecution (13:40) – This short interview is taken from the three-part 1992 programme, Billy: How Did You Do It? directed by Gisela Grischow and Volka Schlöndorff. It is Schlöndorff in conversation with the charismatic director who was 86 years young at the time of interview.

Within the first two minutes Wilder speaks German, French and English and is interrupted by the telephone in his office. He’s playful and charming, swinging on his chair and interrupting the interviewer (only to correct him, you understand). He only has fond things to say about Dietrich who he worked with twice on A Foreign Affair (1948) and this, praising her intellect, key lighting knowledge and of course “the face”. It’s another welcome extra to the disc but do try and source the original interview in its entirety – all parts are available on the Blu-ray edition of Eureka!’s The Lost Weekend (1945) – you will not regret it.

Also included is a collector’s booklet featuring her essays by film scholar Henry Miller and critic Phillip Kemp, a letter from Agatha Christie to Billy Wilder and rare archival imagery (unavailable for review), and of course, there is also the theatrical trailer and a reversible sleeve.

Witness For the Prosecution may well be regarded as a “lesser known” Wilder, however, it is well worth a punt not only for all the reasons mentioned above but its theatrical pacing, Wilder’s expressionistic mise-en-scène and it would be remiss not to mention that monocle trick. It was reportedly praised by Christie as the best adaptation of her work she had seen, and well, if it’s good enough for Agatha…

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Blu-ray film review

Moana (Dir. Ron Clements and Ron Musker, 2016)

In the beginning there was only ocean…

For the inhabitants of Motunui, that ocean is vast, and while once conquerable, it now serves to separate rather than unite, and to provide food. For Moana (Auli’i Cravalho), daughter of Chief Tui (Temuera Morrison), it calls to her. From infancy, she has a special relationship with it, hell, it’s even the translation of her name. Her beloved Gramma Tala (Rachel House) regales her with tales of myths and legends; amongst them, that of Te Fiti, Te Kā, and Maui.

Moana is fearless and yet torn – as she matures – between her birthright, of becoming Chief or giving in to the niggling voice within and setting sail beyond the reef. She’s at odds with who she is and who her people need her to be. When circumstances change and her village starts to suffer, she summons her courage and determination, along with hapless stowaway Hei Hei (Alan Tudyk), and restore the heart of Te Fiti. Her heart previously stolen by Maui (Dwayne Johnson) – chump, braggart, all hubris and hair (and moko). Moana must persuade the demigod to help her reverse the damage he has caused.

Disney’s last dabble with Polynesian culture was in 2002 with the Hawaii-set Lilo and Stitch. Moana – although the period of time is never established – is most definitely the pre-cursor to Lilo… – the island of Hawaii still to be discovered by the voyaging canoes of the master navigators using star constellations to guide them to lands old and new.

A non-white cast certainly makes a refreshing change. In fact, only the gormless chicken is voiced by a non-Polynesian with the remainder of the cast made up of Hawaiian, Samoan, Māori, and Tahitian natives, this authenticity makes all the difference. Yes, it’s a Disney-fied version of history but oh what a beautiful one with the music making it. Moana’s songs are written and composed by the trifecta that is Opetaia Foa’i, Lin-Manuel Miranda, and Mark Mancina. They are heartfelt, incredibly catchy and above all memorable with highlights including ‘Where You Are’, ‘How Far I’ll Go’, ‘We Know the Way’, ‘You’re Welcome’ and the Bowie-inspired, Jemaine Clement solo, ‘Shiny’. This soundtrack is up there with Beauty and the Beast (1991) and The Lion King (1994) for standard, originality, and (eventual) longevity.

In keeping with the recent trend, there isn’t a romantic slant to the narrative. Just like Merida in Brave and Elsa in Frozen, the love story element is reframed within a pre-existing relationship, i.e. Merida and her mother, Elsa and her sister, and their respective narrative drives stem from finding their place in the world. By comparison, Moana is about a girl and her grandmother and celebrating tradition, embracing heritage, and restoring balance. Like an animated, musical, slant on Niki Caro’s Whale Rider (2002).

Directors John Musker and Ron Clements having previously helmed The Little Mermaid (1989), Aladdin (1992), and The Princess and the Frog (2009) have, with Moana, created an incredibly respectful window into a previously untouched culture, certainly by Disney standards. This not only gives young vahines a voice but recognisable onscreen figures to identify with. Moana embraces her independence to venture and veer from her expected path, assert herself and listen to that voice within. What’s not to love about that?

The film is a sheer joy from beginning to end; 113 glorious minutes in which to be engulfed, immersed, and swallowed by an entire oceanic culture.

Bonus Features

The disc doesn’t scrimp on extras either and these are well worth exploring. Gone Fishing (2 mins) is a short film in which, once again, Moana and, her namesake, the ocean get the better of demigod Maui. The real gem of all the extras is the documentary Voice of the Islands (31 mins) which follows the two Midwestern directors in their research for Moana and documents their visits to the Pacific islands, which included Fiji, Samoa, Tahiti, Mo’orea; ending their journey in New Zealand. It’s an incredibly fascinating short doc, and depicts this latest animated outing as a real labour of love on all counts. Working alongside the Oceanic Story Trust, Moana was a wholly inclusive project in which Pacific choreographers, linguists, anthropologists, fishermen, tattoo artists are interviewed and encouraged, at every turn, to contribute. It is an emotional, informative and highly interesting watch. This is followed by Things You Didn’t Know About… (5 mins) delivered in one minute segments in which the directors, Dwayne Johnson, Auli’i Cravalho, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Mark Mancina and Opetaia Foa’i are asked to answer fun, quick fire questions.


Island Fashion (5 mins) is an informative, if slight, addition to the extras menu in which costume design is examined, complete with storyboards and accessories. The Elements of… (13 mins) looks, in minute detail, (despite its short run time) at the more technical elements of Moana including Mini-Maui – a 2D integration within a 3D animation, drawn by Eric Goldberg. Further segments include water, lava, and hair, all explained by the visual effects supervisors and provide real insight into the extent and painstaking processes required to produce, say, responsive waves, smoke, fire and realistic hair.

They Know the Way: The Making of the Music Moana (12 mins). Again, Disney sure know how to pack a lot of information into a short duration. This covers the process by all three writers/composers/singers Mancina, Miranda, Foa’i and despite the fact that they are from the east coast, west coast and south pacific respectively, their cultural and musical difference worked so well as a collaboration. The Igelese Ete & Pasifika Voices choral clips are beautiful. Although, included on the soundtrack, another bonus feature is outtake ‘Warrior Face’ was deleted from the final film. It was inspired by the haka and is played in a three minute video against storyboards of the scene it would have accompanied. Fishing For Easter Eggs (3 mins) reveals hidden treasures from Frozen, Aladdin, Zootopia, Little Mermaid, Tangled and other Disney iconography which is dotted throughout Moana which even eagle-eyed viewers may have missed the first time.

Both directors introduce the Deleted Scenes (25 mins). These are in storyboard form and depict Moana as an eight year old, with her sibling, and definitely expand on a backstory which failed to make the final film. One feature, perhaps, for older children interested in the process but it’s very repetitive and younger audience members may lose interest. The disc extras are rounded off with the video for the Alessia Cara version of ‘How Far I’ll Go’ followed by the whole song translated into twenty-four languages.

Moana in home release is a worthy addition to the Disney family; full of magic and mana.