Here’s another disc that might catch the eye of classic horror fans. Mark Redfield produced, directed, wrote and stars in this adaptation of the classic horror yarn. His version is one of the most faithful to the Robert Louis Stevenson novella, and is done in a style that recalls the classic Hammer and Amicus productions. However, unlike most of the recent retro productions (even the endearing Cadavra), there’s nothing tongue-in-cheek about Redfield’s Jekyll And Hyde. This is not a goof, but a serious attempt--and a worthy one.

Sure, Redfield’s Jekyll And Hyde has some problems (although it looks like a work of Wellesian genius next to Frankenstein Vs. The Monster From Blood Cove), but most of those are simply the result of budgetary realities. Some of the sets and costumes aren’t convincing, and the performances of the supporting cast prove uneven. It’s tough to find talented people for character parts in small-budget films--especially when you need a lot of them, and Redfield’s ambitious production employed more than 30 cast members and extras. Naturally, Redfield saved the plum title role for himself, and his scintillating performance provides reason enough to purchase this bargain-priced disc--even if the rest of his cast can’t quite keep up with him.

Alpha’s bare bones DVD offers the film in a crisp transfer with rich, saturated color and clear sound. Since Jekyll And Hyde, Redfield has acted in a half-dozen other films and produced, directed, co-wrote and starred in The Sorcerer Of Stonehenge School and The Death Of Poe (both 2005). Hopefully Alpha (or someone else!) picks up those pictures for distribution. Based on Jekyll and Hyde, we’d love to see them.

THE RENFIELD AWARDS 2006

This weekend, Hollywood gathers to dole out this year’s Academy Awards. But here in HORROR-WOOD Land, we’re rolling out the red carpet for our Third Annual Renfield Awards, honoring the Best Classic Horror and Sci-Fi DVD releases of the year.

Although 2005 started slow, in terms of classic genre DVDs, it ended with a bang. Most of our winners were released in the final few months of the year. Let’s hope 2006 brings us a bit steadier tide of quality releases.

Some of the longest overdue, most prized classic horror titles (including King Kong and the Val Lewton films) finally reached DVD shelves in 2005. And last year also saw the emergence of several new specialty labels focusing on horror, sci-fi and cult movies, some of which (especially Dark Sky and No Shame) are doing superb work.

But enough preamble. On to the awards!

As previously mentioned, the apparent demise of the Midnite Movies line remains the single biggest bummer (from a classic-horror-on-DVD perspective) of 2005. Beyond that, we’re dismayed that Fox announced, but has indefinitely postponed, the release of two of our favorite gothic thrillers, director John Braham’s The Lodger (1944) and Hangover Square (1945).

The Blind Dead Collection gathers together, for the first time, all four films in director Amando De Ossorio’s influential Blind Dead series, about the undead Knights Templar, Satanic mummies on horseback who feed on human blood. Blue Underground’s Website justifiably calls this collection "the Holy Grail of Euro Horror Classics," although perhaps they should have called it the "Unholy Grail."

The Templars debuted in Tombs Of The Blind Dead, which remains a landmark of Spanish horror cinema--and a damned scary little picture. The first 37 minutes or so of this film are as engrossing and well executed as anything in the Euro horror canon. And, although it softens a bit in its second act, Tombs finishes strong with an unforgettable finale.

Return Of The Evil Dead is, if anything, an improvement on the original, with the Templars returning from the dead to seek vengeance on the ancestors of villagers who blinded and killed them centuries before. The human characters are a bit better developed this time around, and the finale--which recalls Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds--proves equally unsettling and memorable.

The wink link in the series is undoubtedly The Ghost Galleon, wherein the Templars inhabit a Flying Dutchman-like ship adrift in the Atlantic. This is a fertile premise, but the execution is lacking: The plot is preposterous and contrived, the characters wafer-thin and unlikable. Nothing much happens for long stretches and what does occur proves mind-numbingly predictable – right up to the "shock" ending.

Luckily, Ossorio redeemed himself with the final entry, Night Of The Seagulls. The scenario evokes the milieu of H.P. Lovecraft, with a young country doctor and his wife arriving in a remote village, where the inhabitants perform bizarre secret rituals (to appease the Templars) in the middle of the night. Although most fans consider Return the series’ high point, Seagulls has all the same merits as the earlier film, plus a more compelling and logical narrative. It’s as good as Spanish horror movies get.

And The Blind Dead Collection is as good as DVD boxed sets get. Everything about this collection is first-rate, from its nifty, coffin-shaped box and gorgeous painted sleeve art on the individual DVDs, to the extras and especially the transfers. The set includes a fifth disc, Amando De Ossorio: Director, which, although slight (it contains just 36 minutes of DVD content) remains well worth watching. First up is an informative 25-minute biography of the director, followed by an 11-minute archival interview with Ossorio himself. The bonus disc also includes DVD-ROM content. The Blind Dead Collection also contains a fascinating 40-page fanzine reproduction devoted to the Blind Dead films, which provides detailed reviews and analysis for all four films, as well historical data on the real-life Knights Templar (upon whom Ossorio’s characters were based).

The films themselves are simply spectacular looking. Although Tombs and Return were available previously on a long-out-of-print Anchor Bay double feature DVD, these new versions blow that Anchor Bay disc out of the water. The sound and picture quality of all four features is uniformly excellent. The fact that BU was able to find source material this good, and transfer it with such loving care, is simply amazing. It’s one thing for Criterion to release a gorgeous-looking print of something like Ugetsu. It’s something else again (and immeasurable tougher) to find such pristine source material for the likes of The Ghost Galleon, never available before on DVD or home video.

Not satisfied with offering just one beautiful-looking version of these films, both Tombs and Return are offered in their English-dubbed American release versions as well as in their uncut, Spanish language (English subtitled versions), with added nudity and gore. Ghost Galleon and Seagulls are available in only one edit, but with both English dubbed and Spanish subtitled audio options. TV spots are also included for Ghost Galleon.

Theatrical trailers and poster and still galleries are included for each film. The only thing missing is an audio commentary or two, which these films richly deserve.

Yes, the MSRP on this one may seem daunting (although The Blind Dead Collection can be had for around 60 bucks at many discount e-tailers). But this is one of those instances where you really do get what you pay for.

Despite its title, this movie bears little relation to Robert Weine’s 1920 German expressionist masterpiece, The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari. It is, instead, one of the many early-sixties psychological thrillers calculated to attract the audience that made Psycho (1960) a box office bonanza.

In an unusual (and telling) move, screenwriter Robert Bloch (who wrote the novel upon which Psycho was based) receives above-the-title billing--higher than Caligari’s director or any of the picture’s stars. Bloch’s script delivers many of the same elements that were present in Psycho, although rearranged and used to somewhat different effect: We have a young blonde driving cross country, whose troubles begin once she stops for the night. She’s glimpsed in a white bra during her "good girl" early scenes and in black lingerie later. There’s a surprise ending involving a false identity, and a psychiatrist who encapsulates the film’s resolution for those who may not have fully understand what just happened.

Unfortunately, rehashing these and other familiar elements hardly makes this Caligari the equal of Psycho. It runs a wearisome 106 minutes (at least 20 longer than needed), and remains turgidly acted and indifferently staged. Caligari is one of those movies where, every time something exciting threatens to happen, a conversation breaks out. Still, it has some interesting visual flourishes and an effective score, so it’s not without some merit or interest.

Fox’s bare bones, two-sided disc offers the film in both full screen pan-and-scan and in anamorphic widescreen (1.66:1) transfers. In both aspect ratios, the blacks and firm and the gray scale acceptable, although night exterior scenes are a shade dark and contrasty. The original mono sound is surprisingly strong, doing justice to Gerald Fried’s fine score. Although far from essential, this one is priced right for anyone who’s especially interested in Bloch’s career or Psycho rip-offs.

Speaking of Bloch, this picture features not one but five stories by the Psycho scribe. Torture Garden was the 1967 entry in the long-running series of horror anthologies released by England’s Amicus Films, but unfortunately it’s one of the weakest of the lot. Despite a gifted, if erratic, director (Freddie Francis) and a strong cast (including Burgess Meredith, Jack Palance, Peter Cushing and Michael Ripper), Torture Garden is at times torturous to sit through--and the fault lies primarily with Bloch, whose stories are mostly lame.

The first yarn, about a demonic cat, doesn’t generate a lot of chills but never fails to hold our interest. It’s all down hill from there. The subsequent tales, including a risible episode involving a murderous piano, are likely to generate either yawns or unintended laughs. What should be the big finale--a tale about a crazed Poe collector starring Palance and Cushing--poses some interesting questions about the nature of fandom but soon fizzles out.

Francis elicits mostly credible performances from his cast and gives each episode a distinctive visual look, but remains hamstrung by Bloch’s predictable and often asinine material. The framing sequence, featuring Meredith as fortune-telling sideshow performer "Dr. Diablo," seems a bit too similar to the frame used for the initial Amicus anthology, Dr. Terror’s House Of Horrors (also directed by Francis), a film far superior to Torture Garden.

Columbia’s presentation of the film is first-rate, however. The anamorphic (1.66:1) widescreen transfer is razor-sharp, with rich reds, greens, blues and yellows and clear, resonant sound. Although no bonus features are included, this remains a gorgeous-looking disc, better than Columbia’s usual treatment of genre fare. And the price is reasonable. If only the film itself were as impressive.

This ultra low-budget sci-fi/action hybrid remains notable as an early starring role for future "Streetfighter" Sonny Chiba. The story is a mishmash of elements from 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea and The Island Of Dr. Moreau: Two intrepid journalists (Chiba and gal pal Peggy Neal) are trapped in the undersea hideout of a mad genius who surgically transforms his victims into "cyborg" gill men. The scenario affords Chiba only limited opportunity to demonstrate the physical prowess that would soon make him a Hong Kong action hero. Director Hajime Sato would go on to helm the impressive Goke, The Body Snatcher (1968), but this film pales in comparison with that one. Still, it’s markedly superior to the juvenile Starman franchise, whose audience this film was designed to attract.

Upstart Dark Sky Films, distributed by VCI, is quickly emerging as a major player among specialty DVD labels focusing on classic horror and sci-fi (along with companies like Blue Underground, Anchor Bay, Mondo Macabro, Media Blasters, Synapse and others). We’ll be reviewing more of their discs in the months ahead, but suffice to say that if they do this well the lowly Terror Beneath The Sea, we eagerly await their future releases! Although it’s a bare-bones disc, the source print is sharp and clean, with vivid colors, and the anamorphic widescreen transfer is excellent, without noticeable edge enhancement or distracting artifacts. The mono sound isn’t perfect, but is probably better than fans have a right to expect from a 40-year-old, low budget, dubbed film. And the price point is affordable--under 10 bucks at many discount e-tailers. Nicely done!

Ever since the Digital Dungeon debuted, the emails have been coming in, a steady stream of inquiries from fans: "When is King Kong coming to DVD?" Finally, that question has been answered. And, even though the wait was longer than any of us would have liked, Warner’s new 2-disc Special Edition is everything diehard Kong devotees could have hoped for.

The film itself should need no introduction to HORROR-WOOD readers. It remains one of the most beloved classic Hollywood movies (genre or otherwise), and with just cause. Sure, its 72-year-old dialogue creaks at times. Its special effects no longer convince us they way they did 1933 audiences (although they still dazzle us with their beauty and imagination). But those faults are rendered insignificant by the power of Kong’s archetypal story, its thrilling action sequences, the fine performances of Robert Armstrong and Fay Wray and above all animator Willis O’Brien’s endlessly fascinating title creation.

I’ve seen Kong many times over the years: On TV, in big-screen theatrical revivals and on various home video, laser disc and imported DVD versions. In my experience, however, Kong has never looked as good as it does on Warner’s new Special Edition. This is a reference-quality presentation: The picture is sharp, with a vivid, silvery gray scale grounded in firm blacks. Meticulously restored from an uncut British print, this is the complete 1933 release edition of the film (complete with Kong munching natives and sniffing Ann’s clothing). Unlike previous home video versions, however these restored scenes are from the same 35 mm print, not inserts from a beat-up 16 mm print. And the enhanced mono sound is clear as a bell.

The supplemental material for the film are equally impressive: First up are two original documentaries: I’m King Kong, a fascinating one-hour TCM-produced biography of producer/co-director Merian C. Cooper, and RKO Production 601, an exhaustive, 2 hour and 40 minute everything-you-ever-wanted-to-know- about-the-making-of- Kong-but-were-afraid-to-ask. The latter film includes a fascinating, detailed explanation of the various revolutionary camera and stop-motion techniques used in the production. Also included is a re-creation of the famous deleted "Spider Scene" crafted by filmmaker Peter Jackson (King Kong, 2005) and a team of f/x artists, who used authentic stop-motion techniques and equipment (no computers!). The disc also feaures the surviving test footage from O’Brien’s shelved Creation project with commentary by legendary animator Ray Harryhausen.

Ken Ralston joins Harryhausen, supported by recorded interviews with Cooper and co-director Ernest B. Schoedsack, for an audio commentary. Although not without interest, the commentary inevitably duplicates a great deal of material from the two documentaries. A Criterion-style commentary, delving into critical analysis of the film’s style and theme, and how it has been interpreted over the years, would have covered the one aspect of the film left unexplored by Warner’s package. Instead, the supplements focus almost exclusively on "How’d they do that?"-type material. Although well done, after a while this focus seems a bit monotonous. Despite that quibble, however, Warner’s King Kong SE remains a towering achievement. If you don’t already own this disc, go buy it. Now.

The only question is, which version should you buy? Kong is available in a standard Special Edition package, as well as in a Collector’s Edition tin. The tin includes some bonus poster reproductions and other paper trinkets, but the contents of the disc itself are exactly the same as the cheaper ($26.99) standard edition. From a bang-for-your-buck perspective, the best deal available is The King Kong Collection boxed set, which includes the Kong Special Edition as well as Son of Kong and Mighty Joe Young. You don’t get the poster repros, but the boxed set sells for the same $39.99 MSRP as the King Kong Collector’s Edition tin.

Son Of Kong will remain forever in the shadow of its cinematic "father," perhaps unfairly. Son is a radically different film from the original Kong in some major respects: Its tone is lighter, more comedic and kid-friendly. Its scope is smaller, more of a character study of Carl Denham as he struggles with the consequences of his actions in the previous film, rather than an epic adventure. But taken on its own merits, Son is a very entertaining picture, the equal of the better-loved Mighty Joe Young (1949), if not of its fabled papa. Warner offers Son in a smart-looking fine grain transfer with good sound, but includes no supplements other than a trailer. Son deserved better. (An audio commentary, at least!)

Like Son, Mighty Joe Young is a light-hearted picture aimed primarily at children. Robert Armstrong returns as a Carl Denham-like producer who recruits Terry Moore and her pet giant gorilla (Mr. Young) to appear at his nightclub, with predictably cataclysmic results. Fast-moving, fanciful and fun, it’s virtually impossible to dislike Mighty Joe Young. Warner’s transfer of the film is on par with its presentation of Son, although not as dazzling as its Kong. This time around, the bonus materials include an audio commentary (again with Ralston and Harryhausen) as well as two on-camera interviews featuring Harryhausen and animators the Chiodo Brothers.

Despite its status as one of the best known of all G-films, King Kong Vs. Godzilla really isn’t terribly good. An American atomic submarine collides with an iceberg – the very iceberg in which Godzilla, frozen but still alive, has been trapped for the past seven years. Godzilla breaks free, attacks a nearby Arctic air base and begins swimming for Japan. Meanwhile, a television executive desperate to improve his network’s ratings organizes an expedition to "Pharaoh Island," rumored to be the home of another giant monster (guess who?). To make a long -- and inane -- story short, Kong is captured and brought to Japan, many buildings are stomped by both monsters, and eventually the two titans meet for a much ballyhooed but poorly executed smackdown.

Universal’s DVD offers only the edited, American release edition of the film, which removes entire sequences from the original Japanese version, inserts new ones featuring American actors and replaces the original Japanese score with a mishmash of library cues (including the unmistakable Creature From The Black Lagoon theme!). Both versions suffer from an overabundance of unfunny, over-the-top comedy relief, and from an unspeakably lame-looking Kong: A stunt man wearing the shabbiest-looking ape suit in movie history. Even its visual effects, from that Godawful Kong suit on down, fall well below Toho’s usual standard. Still, Toho fans will be happy to have this film, which has been out of print for years, available again on DVD. And at least the transfer is good: A clear, anamorphic widescreen print with bold colors and decent sound.

Although lesser known, King Kong Escapes remains by far the more enjoyable film of this couplet. This picture, a Toho/Rankin-Bass co-production based on an animated Saturday morning cartoon series, was aimed at children, and strikes a chord closer to the 1963 Rankin-Bass classic Mad Monster Party? than to the Merian C. Cooper classic. In America, it often played on a double-bill with the Don Knotts comedy The Shakiest Gun In The West.

Taken for what it is--a live action kiddie cartoon--King Kong Escapes proves a fun romp, with Kong facing off against the evil scientist Dr. Hu, a nefarious Bamboo Curtain spy, and even a robot duplicate of himself! (Toho would later borrow this idea and create "Mechagodzilla." Unfortunately, the studio never had the idea of having Mechagodzilla battle the Robo-Kong!) Universal’s presentation of the film is superb: Widescreen, with razor-sharp focus, vivid colors, and crystal-clear sound. At this price (under $15 at many discount retailers), King Kong Escapes alone is worth the cost of admission.

Here’s another picture that should need little introduction. Producer George Pal’s 1953 Technicolor invaders-from-space epic remains one of the cornerstones of classic sci-fi cinema. Unlike some of Pal’s other films (like Destination Moon and The Conquest of Space), War Of The Worlds has lost none of its power to thrill, thanks in large part to its breathless pace, global sense of scope, and still-impressive visual and sound effects.

Unfortunately, the film had been unavailable on DVD for some time, after Paramount’s bare bones initial release went out of print. But now War Of The Worlds in available again, and in an edition that blows away its predecessor like the blast of a Martian heat ray!

Not only is the transfer much better this time around--rich colors and sharp focus, but without the edge enhancement that emphasized the "invisible" wires that propel the Martian vessels, and with Dolby Digital sound--but there are a raft of fascinating supplements, to boot. These include: Two audio commentaries, one featuring stars Gene Barry and Ann Robinson, another with filmmaker Joe Dante, film historian Bob Burns and 50s sci-fi expert Bill (Keep Watching The Skies!) Warren; The Sky Is Falling, an informative Making-Of documentary, H.G. Wells: The Father Of Science Fiction, a short biography of the author, the original theatrical trailer and Orson Welles’ Mercury Theater radio broadcast of War Of The Worlds.

That’s a stunning amount of extras on top of a major sound and picture quality upgrade, making this disc a must-buy even for fans who already have the old version sitting on their DVD shelf. Especially at this price point--under 10 bucks at many discount retailers. (Over the holidays, Target offered this disc at the stunningly low price of $4.99!) But even at full retail, this one’s worth every penny--and then some.

Over the years, I had managed to see all of Spanish horror icon Paul Naschy’s appearances as the werewolf, Waldemar Daninsky, except the first, known stateside as Frankenstein’s Bloody Terror. So I will confess to being a bit giddy as I ripped the shrink-wrap from this disc and popped it into my player. Perhaps inevitably, however, I was somewhat disappointed. Although not a bad outing, this isn’t one of the finest entries in the Daninsky series--those would be Werewolf Shadow, Night of the Howling Beast and Dr. Jekyll and the Werewolf. This is one of those rare instances where the producer’s judgment to shorten a film worked in its favor.

Shriek Show’s new DVD presents Frankenstein’s Bloody Terror in its complete, unedited form--including some 20 minutes of footage excised for its American release. For the most part, the additional footage--a protracted preamble that introduces the not-yet-lycanthropic Daninsky--only bogs down the proceedings. Although the film picks up nicely toward the end, it seems to take forever to get going. Still, it’s nice to have the whole film preserved. Besides, that’s why God gave us the fast-forward button.

Shriek Show’s presentation of the film isn’t perfect, but it’s very good--and it would be too much to expect perfection from a relatively obscure, low budget film of this vintage. The picture is somewhat grainy at points but clean and the colors are bold. The sound is a shade hissy at points but generally clear. All the problems appear to lie with the source material, which was presumably the best-available print of the full 91-minute version. Bonus features include an on-camera interview with Naschy, TV and radio spots, trailers, a poster gallery and an audio commentary with the film’s American distributor, Sam Sherman, who defends his decision to cut certain segments of the film and provides some amusing anecdotes about titling and selling the film. However, he also seems to run out of things to say about Frankenstein’s Bloody Terror and goes off on a tangent about director Al Adamson, whose films he also distributed.

There’s also a puzzling gaffe in the subtitles of the Naschy interview. When Naschy refers to "Larry Talbott," the subtitle inexplicably reads "Larry Stewart!" On balance, however, this is as good a presentation as Naschy fans could have hoped for. Now let’s hope Shriek Show can follow this one up with some more Naschy classics, like Night Of The Howling Beast, House Of Psychotic Women or The Hunchback Of The Morgue--for starters.

Given that Boris Karloff gets top billing in four of the five films included in this set, and that Bela Lugosi is relegated to a supporting role in The Invisible Ray (1936) and a glorified cameo in Black Friday (1940), shouldn't this have been called The Karloff And

Lugosi Collection? Other minor complaints: Once again, as with its recent Legacy Collection sets, Universal has taken the chintzy route and crammed all five movies onto a single, two-sided disc. And bonus materials remain scarce--merely the Realart reissue trailers for Murders In The Rue Morgue (1932), Invisible Ray and Black Friday.

Nevertheless, taken for what it is, rather than what it could have been (and forgetting what it should have been titled), it’s hard to find serious fault with The Bela Lugosi Collection. In terms of picture and sound quality, this set proves far more consistent than the popular but uneven Legacy Collections. It’s handsomely packaged. And the selection of films leaves little room for grumbling.

Murders In The Rue Morgue is best taken as a simple launching pad for the pyrotechnics of Lugosi. His legend was built on delightfully over-the-top performances, but Lugosi never attacked a role with greater vigor and aplomb than this one. As one character exclaims, describing Dr. Mirakle (Lugosi), "He's a show in himself!" Like all of Universal’s Poe adaptations, the film bears only passing similarity with the source material. Universal offers Rue Morgue in an impeccable transfer from a remarkably clean source print. Some mild speckling and very occasional vertical scarring aside, the picture looks great for a 73-year-old movie, and the dialogue is clear and distinct.

The Black Cat (1934) stands among the greatest of all Golden Age horror films. The narrative unfolds in a macabre miscellany of horrors (Satanism, incest, necrophilia, torture and of course murder), all beautifully served by director Edgar Ulmer’s eye for evocative lighting and dramatic compositions. This film marked the first pairing of Karloff and Lugosi, and remains the only vehicle to place both stars on equal footing. This seems to have brought out the best in both actors, who deliver performances as good as anything in their fabled filmographies. The razor-sharp script, by Peter Ruric and Ulmer, contains some of classic horror’s most memorable dialogue (ie, "Even the phone is dead!"). Universal’s presentation of The Black Cat proves satisfying, as well: It’s mildly specked throughout, and the source print is a shade grainy, but suffers from no other major blemishes. Its blacks are sturdy and its gray scale rich. And again, the sound is clear, albeit slightly tinny.

The Raven, the second Karloff-Lugosi pairing, again finds both stars in top gear. Most Lugosiphiles place The Raven’s Dr. Vollin among Bela’s finest characterizations. That may be a bit of a stretch – Vollin isn’t as colorful as Dr. Mirakle, or as sympathetic as Vitus Werdegast from The Black Cat, for instance, to say nothing of a half-dozen other standout Lugosi portrayals. Nevertheless, Lugosi remains a delight to watch. Karloff’s pathos-rich supporting performance remains underrated. His is the only character with any sort of arc, and his portrayal provides the emotional core of the picture. Director Louis Friedlander keeps the pace galloping along, and brings a wild-and-woolly, serial-like vibe to the proceedings. Universal’s transfer of The Raven is a virtual carbon copy of The Black Cat, in terms of audio/video quality: Some grain and speckling, otherwise flawless.

The Invisible Ray teamed Karloff and Lugosi once again, in another fleet-footed, sometimes risible, serial-like romp. Its story is so crowded with events, characters, and changes of scenery (shifting locales between the Carpathians, the African jungle and Paris) that the narrative simply sweeps viewers along in its wake. Lugosi co-stars, cast against type as a kindly physician. Karloff delivers a rococo, tongue-in-cheek performance cut from the same cloth as his title portrayal in The Mask Of Fu Manchu (1932). Lugosi supplies an uncharacteristically understated turn as Benet. The Invisible Ray ranks as the most impressive transfer included in this set. It’s very nearly pristine, with virtually no speckling or noticeable grain, the same radiant gray scale and crystal clear mono sound.

For Lugosiphiles, Black Friday remains The One That Got Away. The original plan was to star Lugosi as Dr. Sovac, who transplants the brain of a gangster into the head of his best friend, mild-mannered Prof. Kingsley (to be played by Karloff), in a desperate attempt to save Kingsley’s life. Then Karloff decided he would rather play the Sovac role, and Universal let him switch to that part. But instead of simply having Lugosi play Kingsley, the studio demoted Bela to a thankless supporting part as another gangster and gave no-name Stanley Ridges the Kingsley assignment.

To this day, some fans can’t watch Black Friday without yearning for the film that might have been, with Lugosi as Sovac and Karloff as Kingsley. Funny thing is, Ridges is spectacular. His remains one of the great, unsung leading horror performances of the 1940s. Karloff acquits himself very well, too. Universal’s presentation of Black Friday isn’t quite as gorgeous as Invisible Ray, but it’s close, and should delight this film’s small but discerning fan base.

Issued the same day as The Bela Lugosi Collection, in The Hammer Horror Series proves even more impressive than its sister release. Here in one tidy package comes all the Hammer Films properties owned by Universal, released to DVD for the first time in one fell swoop:

Brides Of Dracula, the most sough-after title in the set, is one of the crown jewels of the Hammer horror dynasty. The studio’s first sequel to its breakthrough Horror of Dracula (1958) chronicles the further adventures of Prof. Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) as he battles Baron Meinster (David Peel) and his minions--but not, as the title might suggest, Dracula himself. Crackling with energy, sumptuously photographed, cleverly scripted and convincingly acted, Brides Of Dracula’s charms are irresistible.

The Curse Of The Werewolf ranks among the most ambitious and imaginative films ever to tackle the subject of lycanthropy. Writer/producer Anthony Hinds offers a wholly new imagining of the werewolf legend, star Oliver Reed contributes a sensational lead performance and Roy Ashton creates the most fearsome-looking wolf man makeup in movie history. Director Terry Fisher’s film runs a bit overlong and has some structural problems (for instance, its lengthy opening sequence would have been better handled as a short flashback). Yet this remains one of the most fascinating chillers of its breed.

The Evil Of Frankenstein can only be regarded as the nadir of Hammer’s Frankenstein series, but it’s nice to have this final missing piece available on DVD at last to complete the set. Cushing returns in the title role (his third appearance as the Baron), but is hampered by an addle-brained script that calls on him to act like a ninny half the time. Director Freddie Francis introduces some evocative visuals, but lets this film crawl along without much credible dramatic tension. Evil also suffers from rehashing too many elements associated with Universal’s Frankenstein movies: The electrified creation scene, a Frankenstein protégé who uses the monster for his own nefarious purposes (a la Ygor), a handicapped "friend" for the monster, the monster’s fear of fire, the discovery of the monster frozen in ice, etc. Fortunately, after this misfire Hammer returned to making Hammer Frankenstein movies instead of trying to make Universal Frankenstein movies.

Hammer’s Phantom Of The Opera also suffers in comparison with the Universal original (or even the 1943 remake). In this telling, the true villain of the yarn turns out to be a corrupt music publisher (Michael Gough), not the Phantom (Herbert Lom) himself, which undermines the appeal of the character, which is that he’s both sympathetic and villainous. Still, the Hammer Phantom oozes with gothic ambiance and boasts a career-best performance from Gough, pluses that help make this Phantom worth a look.

Kiss Of The Vampire has never received the attention it deserves, probably because it’s not part of either Hammer’s long-running Dracula series or its Karnstein trilogy. Yet, this picture--about a pair of benighted travelers who fall into the clutches of a vampire cult--remains more compelling than at least half of Hammer’s Dracula films and the first two-thirds of the Karnstein saga. It also stands as Don Sharp’s finest directorial effort, and demonstrates a sophisticated visual sense uncommon among directors who begin their careers as screenwriters. The film’s profile suffers due to its lack of recognizable stars, but the no-name cast (Noel Willman, Jennifer Daniel, Clifford Evans, anyone?) acquits itself well.

Paranoiac and Nightmare are the troubled middle children from Hammer’s series of black-and-white psychological horror films of the 1960s, preceded by Scream Of Fear (1961) and Maniac (1963) and followed by Die! Die! My Darling and The Nanny (both 1965). Neither are particularly strong entries, but Paranoiac is the better of the two. Former cinematographer Freddie Francis, in his first directorial assignment from Hammer, integrates some spectacular images, including a shot from the corpse’s-eye view of a drowning victim, through rippling water into the face of the killer. Oliver Reed stars, and mesmerizes throughout, even when he’s careening wildly over the top. Usually reliable screenwriter Jimmy Sangster’s work presents the central problem with Nightmare, which lacks enough ideas to carry even its pithy 80-minute runtime. Also, its "surprise" ending is visible a mile away. Star Jennie Lenden tries for the kind of twitchy brilliance Julie Harris brought to The Haunting (1963), but she’s no Harris and Nightmare is no Haunting.

And finally there’s Night Creatures, never before available on home video in any format. Its longstanding unavailability must have been because this is a landlocked pirate adventure with a few minor horrific flourishes, not a true horror film. But don’t let that dissuade you--this one’s a gem, one of Hammer’s best efforts of the early 1960s. In lieu of surrendering any of the plot’s surprises, suffice to say that Night Creatures is mildly subversive, surprisingly poetic, breathlessly paced and features a satisfying balance of action scenes, romance and character moments. It also boasts a tremendous lead performance from Cushing and an excellent supporting turn by Michael Ripper, in one of the more substantial roles of his career.

All eight films look and sound better than they have in any previous home video incarnation.

I should note that with both The Hammer Horror Series and The Bela Lugosi Collection, several fans have reported freezing and other playback issues. My copy of the Hammer set pixilated noticeably at the layer change during Nightmare, but evidenced no other issues. I had no problems at all with the Lugosi set. It’s possible these problems are the result of Universal’s decision to release these two collections on unusual DVD-18 discs. Most DVDs are either single layer, single or double-sided or single-sided, dual layer. But DVD-18 discs are double-sided, dual layer discs, meaning each disc contains four layers of information. These playback problems speak to the limitations of DVD-18 discs, and explain why most informed buyers would gladly pay a little extra to get four single-sided discs, instead of two double-sided ones.

That caveat aside, these two releases mark a big step forward for Universal in terms of quality and consistency, and make excellent additions to Universal’s growing library of classic horror DVD titles.

Few DVD releases in recent memory have inspired as much anticipation as The Val Lewton Collection, Warner’s long-overdue assembly of all nine classic horror (and borderline-horror) films from legendary producer Val Lewton, movies that ushered in a whole new style of screen terror.

Fans have argued for decades over which Lewton movie is the best, with Cat People, I Walked With A Zombie and The Body Snatcher garnering the majority of the votes (although there are passionate minorities in favor of The Seventh Victim, Curse Of The Cat People and others). I would opt for Cat People, which carefully balances two opposing tensions -- primarily, the mystery of whether Irena (Simone Simon) is really a were-cat or just some sort of garden-variety nutcase, paired with its bubbling undercurrent of sexual frustration. The film boasts three scintillating scare sequences, superb dialogue, convincing acting and exquisite cinematography, which transforms the mundane -- a simple swim, a walk down the street, a dark office--into something mysterious and terrifying. Only Karloff’s turn as John Gray (from The Body Snatcher) can rival Simone Simon's haunting performance among all portrayals in the entire Lewton canon. Of course, none of this is intended as knock on Body Snatcher of Zombie, both of which also belong on any list of the top chillers of the 1940s.

However, the real measure of Lewton’s genius isn’t how great his top three or four films are, it’s how impressive even his lesser efforts were: The Leopard Man remains a fairly mundane whodunit but its extended opening sequence may be the most terrifying 15 minutes to be found in any Lewton film. The Ghost Ship, about a psycho-killer sea captain, lacks star power but not dramatic impact. Isle Of The Dead is a bit ponderous and slow moving, but features a unique and eerie setting and another powerhouse performance from Karloff. In short, even the least of the Lewtons are worth periodic revisits. Like every Lewton film, they only improve with each new viewing.

Unfortunately, Warner’s new boxed set doesn’t give this treasure trove of terror its due. The quality of the prints, while acceptable, must be categorized as a disappointment. Clearly, Warner didn't see fit to do the kind of restoration on these titles that they did for other recent releases, such as their Marx Brothers, Errol Flynn or Film Noir collections. The quality of source prints is inconsistent. The worst of the lot, maddeningly for Karloff fans, is the dark and dupey-looking Body Snatcher. But nearly every print is noticeably speckled and usually marred by additional scarring or blotches. Likewise, the sound quality remains decent but unremarkable.

The bonus materials also prove hit-and-miss. A 60-minute original documentary, Shadows In The Dark: The Val Lewton Legacy, is decent but hardly as extensive or lovingly crafted as, for instance, Warner’s feature-length Flynn bio. The audio commentaries are another mixed bag: The best of the lot are Greg Mank’s talks about Cat People and Curse Of The Cat People (with taped interview excerpts featuring Simon), Tom Weaver’s fast paced, fact-packed Bedlam chat and Steve Haberman’s intriguing analysis of The Seventh Victim.

The others are mostly forgettable, except for director William Friedkin’s irksome Leopard Man commentary, which is memorably awful (it’s from the "And-now-we-watch-a-character-walk-down- the-hall" school of "commentary"). Even worse, Warner apparently couldn’t find anyone at all to talk about Isle of the Dead and The Ghost Ship! (Note to Warner execs: I am available!) Likewise, theatrical trailers are included for some, but not all, of the films.

Still, these discs are of watchable quality and the films themselves are cornerstones of any classic horror DVD collection. That’s enough to earn The Val Lewton Collection a recommendation. But I wish I could be more enthusiastic about it.

If you enjoy the Lewton films but have somehow missed this little gem, do yourself a favor and pick up this bargain-priced disc. The scenario is simple but spellbinding: A mute young woman (Dorothy McGuire) terrorized by a serial killer who’s targeting handicapped women. Director Robert Siodmak, whose cast and crew included several Lewton veterans, wrings every possible drop of suspense from the film’s fertile premise.

Siodmak’s approach is subdued and sophisticated, but there are a couple of outstanding "jump" moments, too. McGuire delivers an Oscar-caliber performance in the lead role. MGM/UA offers the film in a handsome transfer – blemish-free, with firm black shadows and subtle grays, and good mono sound.

Here’s another under-the-radar disc that shouldn’t be overlooked. There’s nothing subdued or sophisticated about this drive-in classic, however! On a camping vacation, two couples (Peter Fonda and Dark Shadows’ Lara Parker, Warren Oates and Loretta Swit) accidentally witness a human sacrifice performed by a satanic cult, then spend the balance of the film fleeing the cult.

Director Jack Starrett creates a sense of ever-growing paranoia, punctured by breathless action sequences, including a classic car chase/battle involving the two couples in their Winnebago! Race with the Devil (1975) is a clinic in exploitation filmmaking, and Anchor Bay’s bargain-priced disc is a classroom example of how to handle a cult DVD release.

The picture and sound quality are superb, far better than anyone has a reason to expect from a little-known, 30-year-old film, and Anchor Bay sweetens the deal with some impressive bonus materials, including: "Hell On Wheels," an on-camera interview with Fonda about the film (who is effusive in his praise of the whole experience), an audio commentary with Executive Producer Paul Maslansky, Actress Lara Parker and DVD Producer Perry Martin, production stills, the original theatrical trailer, and more. With a movie this good, a transfer this impressive, extras this enjoyable, MSRP this low, Race with the Devil earns a no-brainer of a recommendation.

Longtime Digital Dungeon readers may recall us sounding the trumpets for Something Weird’s delightful Monsters Crash The Pajama Party DVD, a wild and wooly assembly of spook show flotsam and jetsam that immediately became one of our favorite DVDs of 2001. Among the many delights of that disc were a handful of home movies made by young monster movie fans. Now, producer Joe Busam and his upstart PPS Group label bring us a whole disc full of nostalgia-drenched 8 mm treasures with the aptly titled Monster Kid Home Movies.

This little gem of a disc collects 30--count 'em, 30--homemade monster movies. These are short films made by kids for kids, in some instances by youngsters who went on to became famous (or at least well-known in the world of horror fandom). Contributors include Bob Burns, Disney artist Frank Dietz, interviewer-to-the-retired-stars Tom Weaver and film director Robert Tinnell, as well lots of other people who grew up to be ordinary, everyday horror film fans.

As you would expect, the entertainment value of the films varies widely, but I can’t conscience complaining about the dearth of coherent plots and other cinematic merits in no budget, 8 mm movies shot by 12-year-olds. Even the worst of the selections are shot through with enough youthful exuberance and sheer affection for monster movies that they transcend their lack of cinematic acumen. Besides, most of them run only a few minutes. Who has time to get bored?

At their best, these shorts are surprisingly impressive. The early stop-motion animation films by future Disney animator Frank Dietz and the elaborate makeup effects and costumes created by future comic book artist Kerry Gammill are minor wonders. Tinnell’s teenage Frankenstein (1977) shows enough directorial imagination-- such as the use of a James Whale-like subjective POV shot--to hint at his future career. But for my money the single most entertaining picture of the lot is Weaver’s action-packed Up For Grabs (1980), starring Weaver’s late brother, John, who dreamed of becoming a Hollywood stunt man.

The DVD itself proves a very polished and professional production, from the sleeve art to the menu screens, and the films look amazingly good given their age and 8 mm origins. Most of the movies were shot silent, and are presented with three soundtrack options: Musical accompaniment, musical accompaniment plus the sound effect of a movie projector clicking in the background (a touch I absolutely love), or an audio commentary by the filmmaker. Video Watchdog editor Tim Lucas provides the commentary for the award-winning 36-minute featurette The Gentle Old Madman (1973), since young filmmakers Alan and Mark Upchurch, both of whom are now deceased. I recommend watching with audio commentary.

Monster Kid Home Movies easily ranks among the most enjoyable DVD releases so far in 2005. We only hope that it doesn’t fly under the radar for classic horror fans. For now, the disc is available from Creepy Classics Video. We’ll provide an update when we learn of additional distribution channels. In the meantime, it’s well worth seeking out this disc.

Hot on the heels of its superb Matango (Attack Of The Mushroom People) DVD, Tokyo Shock unveiled this disc, which again offers the original, uncut Japanese version of a Toho classic. Unfortunately, as a film, The Mysterians isn’t a patch on Matango. It’s routine invaders-from-space yarn, the titular menace being aliens from a nuclear-devastated planet who attempt to gain control of the earth (and "marry" human women).

The battle scenes are exciting, and the special effects are colorful and impressive--aside from a silly-looking giant robot--but the film is woefully short on human interest or real dramatic tension. Toho’s second alien-invasion yarn, Battle In Outer Space (1960) marked a distinct improvement.

Tokyo Shock presents The Mysterians in a flawless anamorphic widescreen (2.35:1) transfer. Unfortunately, the razor-sharp clarity of the disc reveals some damage with the source print -- speckles, scratches and horizontal lines mar some of the battle sequences. Still, this remains as good as this film is ever likely to look, especially its rich color saturation. The film is offered in the original Japanese with subtitles or dubbed into English. Supplements include the original theatrical trailer, storyboards, a photo gallery and an audio commentary with Koichi Kawakita and Shinji Higuchi.

These two post-apocalyptic thrillers, released previously as a laserdisc twin bill, seem perfectly suited for one another. Both are entertaining films in their own right, but they work even better when viewed side-by-side, tackling the same concept from completely different points of view, and working in contrasting hues.

Panic In Year Zero!, starring and directed by Ray Milland, is a curiously upbeat tale of the apocalypse, with an all-American nuclear family (father, mother, son and daughter) escaping H-bomb holocaust in L.A. because they’re on a camping vacation. The family staves off marauding beatniks and other hazards to scratch out a caveman-like existence in the woods. A kitschy Les Baxter jazz score and some cringe-inducing lines of dialogue ("Nothing like eating under an open sky, even if it is radioactive") occasionally make the this seem like some bizarre blend of On The Beach and Leave It To Beaver. But a strong cast led by two former Oscar winners (Milland and Jean Hagan) and a few tension-packed suspense sequences help elevate Panic near the upper echelon of Cold War-era nuclear disaster films.

MGM offers Panic In Year Zero! in a superb, nearly speckle-free widescreen (2.35:1) print with excellent sound. The disc also includes the film’s original theatrical trailer, although curiously the sleeve does not indicate this bonus feature.

The Last Man On Earth is a far more stark, downbeat picture. It’s based on Richard Matheson’s often-ripped-off-novel I Am Legend, about a future where the world has been lost to a plague of vampirism. Vincent Price stars in the title role (which proves to be something of a misnomer). Many critics have carped about Price’s casting in this film, and certainly this doesn’t approach the actor’s best work, but he remains perfectly serviceable. The movie opens well and includes a hauntingly effective flashback sequence that depicts the plague’s rapid progress and horrific toll.

The disc includes a short but amusing on-camera interview with Matheson, who essentially disowns the picture. The filmmakers rewrote Matheson’s final act, and their clumsy tinkering undercuts the power of the novel’s finale. Yet, up to that point, Last Man remains the film version that most closely follows Matheson’s novel.

MGM’s beautiful widescreen (2.35:1) black and white transfer of this film renders all the countless chintzy public domain DVDs of this title obsolete. The sound quality is merely adequate, but this is by far the finest picture quality I’ve ever seen on this title.

This is a little gem of a twofer.

This coupling of hoodoo horrors doesn’t work as well as fans might hope. For starters neither film is as strong as either included in the Panic/Last Man double feature. Worse, Voodoo Island and Four Skulls share common weaknesses: Slow openings and transparent plotlines. The result is that, viewed back-to-back, both films lose some of their already-thin luster.

Voodoo Island, often listed as one of star Boris Karloff’s worst efforts, is a film I’ve always counted as a (very) guilty pleasure. It’s hard to argue with those who dislike the picture: It’s ponderously paced and laughably scripted. Even Karloff, unusually hammy here, seems bemused by the hangdog quality of the production. But it has an interesting cast--including Rhodes Reason, Elisha Cook Jr. and Adam West, in addition to Dear Boris--and enough unintentionally hilarious moments to provide some cheesy fun. Besides, I’m a sucker for any picture that features man-eating plants and Karloff in a funny hat.

Like most of director "Fast" Eddie Cahn’s genre pictures, Four Skulls of Jonathan Drake doesn’t lack for atmosphere. Its plot is strictly by rote, its production values bargain basement and aging Henry Daniell is the closest thing to a star in its no-name cast. But Cahn drapes the meager sets in evocative shadows and lends the film some of the spook-show ambiance he brought to films like It! The Terror From Beyond Space and Creature With The Atom Brain. Unfortunately, part of what made those films special was the way the gothic feel of the picture played against their super-scientific settings. Absent that contrast, Four Skulls plays like a more routine, low-budget chiller--not a bad one, but not a remarkable one, either. The film’s worst flaw is that it grinds along in low gear for nearly half its running time before anything of real interest happens. It shares this unfortunate trait with the 78-minute Voodoo Island, in which 40 sometimes-agonizing minutes pass before Karloff and company reach the titular island! As a result, although either film can be enjoyable if taken individually, back-to-back viewing can be tough sledding.

MGM offers Voodoo Island in a good transfer of a perfectly acceptable source print: A few speckles and other minor blemishes, but nothing distracting, and decent sound. Four Skulls doesn’t look or sound quite as good as Voodoo Island, and falls a bit below the usually lofty Midnite Movies standard. The picture quality is comparable, but the sound is a bit too tinny. The only bonus feature is the original theatrical trailer for Voodoo Island, a supplement again unmentioned on the disc’s sleeve.

Bottom line: If you’re a Karloff completist, or someone who’s simply mad for voodoo movies, this disc is worth tracking down. Otherwise, you can probably wait it out.

During its initial release, Eyes Without A Face quickly grew notorious for its stomach-churning gore. When it was shown at the Edinburgh Film Festival, seven viewers fainted, prompting director Georges Franju to quip, "Now I know why Scotsmen wear skirts!"

This movie has lost none of its power to make viewers squirm. And yet, its most striking attribute remains its sensitivity –its sometimes-poetic visuals, and the empathy it grants its emotionally and physically damaged characters. Few horror movies are this brutal, or this gentle.

Dr. Genessier (Pierre Brasseur) and his assistant, Louise (Alida Valli), undertake a series of desperate, secret medical experiments to try to restore the face of his daughter, Christiane (Edith Stob), who was disfigured in a car crash. In the film’s most notorious scene, Genessier uses a scalpel and forceps to peel away the skin from his still-living subject’s face. Christiane, most of the time, wears a mask Genessier has crafted in the likeness of her own, lost face. The expressionless mask lends her the unsettling appearance of an animated mannequin. A more conventional film would portray Genessier as a heartless maniac and Christiane as a helpless pure-heart. But the central characters of Eyes Without A Face have complex motivations, and suffer inner turmoil. Franju also makes masterful use of music and natural sound, and composes every frame with painterly care.

The Criterion Collection’s Special Edition DVD ranks among the finest horror discs of 2004. Transferred from a fully restored fine-grain 35 mm source print, the film is presented in its entirety (including moments which were edited or deleted for the film’s American release) with rich, luminous gray scale and razor-sharp focus. The picture is virtually blemish-free and the mono sound is pin-drop clear.

This disc also includes Franju’s affecting slaughterhouse documentary Blood Of The Beasts, and a host of other impressive supplements, including interviews with Franju and with screenwriters Pierre Boileu and Thomas Narcejac, an impressive stills gallery and the original French and American theatrical trailers. The U.S. trailer is a special treat because it also features footage of The Manster, with which it was released on a double-bill.

This film’s American title suggests something along the lines of Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes (1978), but don’t let that fool you. This is director Ishiro Honda’s best film, a minor masterpiece of sustained suspense and eerie otherworldliness. A group of seven boaters are trapped on a remote, fog-shrouded island when their yacht is damaged in a storm. The castaways (which include a skipper, a sailor, a female movie star, a girl-next-door type, a professor and a millionaire) discover a huge, rotting research ship, which has also washed ashore. On the ship, they find a rifle and a limited supply of tinned food. The only other source of sustenance seems to be mysterious mushrooms, which grow in abundance. However, the mushrooms cause bizarre and frightening mental and physical changes in those who eat them. As hunger sets in, the tenuous social order of the group begins to break down.

Matango, as it was known in Japan, is the kind of movie viewers would expect from George Romero, not from Honda. This is an intense, a quietly disturbing study of the way human beings turn on one another in times of crisis, and it builds to a haunting and unusual (for Toho) downbeat finale. Honda’s visuals are fluid and evocative, full of darting something-or-others, barely glimpsed through the shadows and fog. And the director elicits uniformly excellent performances from his ensemble cast. The Mushroom People, who appear late in the story, look like something from the world of Sid and Marty Krofft--but in context, that only makes them seem creepier.

Unfortunately, American producers didn’t know quite what to make of this picture, which was so different from the kind of light-hearted giant monster fare it was used to receiving from Toho. As a result, Matango never received a U.S. theatrical release. Instead, it was saddled with its absurd American title and issued directly to TV, where much of its power was lost in dubbing and cropping.

Luckily, Tokyo Shock/Media Blaster’s scintillating new DVD corrects those errors. The film is presented in its original 2.35:1 aspect ratio, in a vivid color print with razor-sharp picture detail and rich stereo sound. The film is offered with the original Japanese dialogue track, or the original English dubbed dialogue. Supplemental materials include an audio commentary featuring star Akira Kubo, an on-camera interview with special effects supervisor Teruyoshi Nakano and the text of the Masami Fukushima short story on which the film was based, among other treats. It’s a presentation befitting one of the finest horrors ever made in Japan.

THE 2005 "RENFIELD AWARDS"