Eric Bana Embraces EVIL’s Infamy! “Chopper” reviewed! (Second Sight Films / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on December 18, 2023

Mark “Chopper” Read is one of Australia’s bestselling authors. Read is also one of Australia’s most notorious criminals having wrote his autobiography in prison. The pathological criminal’s life begins in the H Division of the Pentridge Prison in the late 70s where he quickly establishes himself a leader of a small three-man gang and viciously murders a rival leader at the chagrin of his acolytes, Jimmy Loughnan and Bluey Barnes. When Jimmy turns on Chopper, stabbing him multiple times and then accusing him of attacking first, the ordeal has a subtle effect on the wildly shrewd and wayward Chopper who 8 years later is released with massively suppressed paranoia as old flings and old acquaintances are believed to be going behind his back or contracting a kill order on his head. Under the delusions of working for the police, a paranoid, suspicious-filled, and unpredictable Chopper takes the opportunity to revisit old accomplices, such as the treacherous prison mate now turned drug addicted family man Jimmy Loughnan, after rumors circulate of Loughnan’s involvement in placing a contract on Chopper that results in conspiracy and murder.

Not to be confused as being completely autobiographical, or even semi-biographical, “Chopper” is a highly-stylized and self-proclaimed embellished account of the late Mark Brandon Read. The Australian feature written-and-directed by Andrew Dominik (“Killing Them Softly”) was once the highest grossing Australian films of all time and still marks as a predominant, early 2000 release to accentuate Chopper’s high energy, erraticism, and violent behavior along with a stellar, method-acting performance from the lead star Eric Bana, who before turning into one of Hollywood’s most recognizable Australian actors was a former sketch comedian and stand-up comic. Shot in Melbourne, Victoria, “Chopper” is produced by Michele Bennett and Michael Gudinski (“Wolf Creek,” “Cut”) with Al Clark (“Gothic”) and Marin Fabinyi (“Bait’) as executive producers under the state funded Australian Film Finance Corp. as well as Mushroom Pictures and Pariah Entertainment.

As mentioned, Eric Bana, star of Ang Lee’s “Hulk,” and having villainous roles in the J.J. Abrams “Star Trek” prequel and “Deadfall” alongside Olivia Wilde, helms the titular character with a plumped-up version of himself, grows a wicked handlebar mustache, and engrosses himself into the peculiar persona that is Mark Brandon Read. “Chopper” really puts Bana’s range on display with a crucial to success performance and the actor lets Read sublease headspace in what is an aberrated humor and darkly concerning ball of a biography. Bana manages to make Chopper likeable yet terrifying, funny yet ferocious, and human yet monstrous as an unpredictable juggernaut of paranoia and survival that only knows how to protect himself by thwarting violence with violence. Chopper mingles with other unsavory, carnivalesque characters in his journey through a jailbird’s life with what he considered his number one mate in prison Jimmy Loughnan (Simon Lydon, “Blackrock”), an old foe in Neville Bartos (Vince Colosimo, “Daybreakers”), and druggie girlfriend Tanya (Kate Beahan, “The Return”). In Chopper’s post-near death eyes, enemies and friends are now subject to his suspicions, making him truly lonely in his own world of crime. Performances shepherd in waves of volatility, intensity, and even immodest humor that force the scenes between them and Chopper into a pool of frigid and death-calling ice water, yet somehow, in the same breath, Dominik is able to take those performances in “Chopper” and turn them into one-giant joke at Read’s expense while still managing to keep afloat some sort of baseline truth to this period in time of his existence. “Chopper’s” cast fills out with other colorful roles from Dan Wyllie, David Field, Gary Waddell, Hilton Henderson, Kenny Graham, Brian Mannix, Sam Houli, Robert Rabiah, Skye Wansey, and Terry Willesee.

Most Americans will likely never understand “Chopper” as the comedy Dominik intends. Bana does so damn good at his job, especially in his feature film debut, and Dominik’s black humor becomes murky by subsequent and sudden jerks toward humanization that audiences will grasp in different directions on how they’re supposed to feel and relate toward a character who stabs a man to death in the face and then cry in compassion for him or beats his girlfriend and then next scene unzips his pants and pulls out his manhood under the bar countertop to show his now ex-girlfriend while talking to two police investigators about his delusions of undercover responsibilities at the other end of the bar. In its two-tone theme of the 1970’s thin, assured, and incarcerated Read and the decade later bulkier, paranoid, and free Read, “Chopper” has paradoxical and against the grain tones of wildly encompassing visualized thoughts stitched stylistically in the same fashion for pure entertainment value to symbolize Read’s emotively internalized expression. Though fully linear, Dominik’s narrative structure can also be off-putting to audiences, digging into the entertainment value with crude edits and choppy segues that hardly shapes a timeframe and that can be tough for viewers invested in a particular storyline only to be abruptly pulled out of it and placed into another decade and an entirely different situation altogether. Then again, “Chopper” essentially has no conventional plot other than the fleeting, distinct stages of a bumpy and insecure Mark Brandon Read’s course through crimes of contract and charisma of character.

“Chopper” arrives onto a Second Sight Films Limited Edition Blu-ray set and a Standard Edition Blu-ray in association with Vertigo Releasing. This reviewer was able to get hands on the Standard Edition that’s an AVC encoded BD50 with 1080p High-Definition resolution of a 2K graded, restored scan presented in a widescreen 1.78:1 aspect ratio. A steely graded first act leads into vivid variability with color, matching Chopper’s descent tenor from shaking stability to a rocky road of mistrust. Decoding at a bitrate of approx. 23Mbps, Second Sight Films’ scan has elevated the details within the tumble of stylistic choices that closely symbolizes specific Chopper eras in which a very different Chopper is exclusive to one or the other while retaining a great amount of natural grain of the 35mm print. Audio specs include an English DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 which, though lossy, has great compressed fidelity mostly in the dialogue department. Plenty of reverberations captured onsite at the Pentridge Penitentiary scenes that add a slither of realism instead of isolating solely the actors’ discourse. Dialogue itself is clean and clear without obstruction. When moved past Pentridge, the environment layers are scaled back to more isolated effects driven by the actors, i.e. gunshots, scuffles, etc., and so we lose that bit of realism deeper we go into Chopper’s psyche and the soundtrack from “Deliver Us From Evil’s” Mick Harvey pumps a little harder. Optional English subtitles are available. Though missing out on some of the physical lot in the bonus content, the standard release still offers a bountiful built-in special feature of old and new with fresh commentaries by Australian critic and author Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Australian film scholar Josh Nelson, new interviews by writer-director Andrew Dominik Stand-up Comedy and Violence, new interview with composer Mick Harvey Not your Typical Film Composer, and a new interview with editor Ken Sallows A Tale of Two Halves. Archived bonus material regains new life and traction with commentaries from Chopper himself Mark Read and one with Andrew Dominik, a behind-the-scenes that sees raw film footage and cast and crew tidbits, a Weekend With Chopper is raw and untouched home video footage of Andrew Dominik and Eric Bana spending a couple of days with a wildly excited Read giving anecdotal accounts of his prison life and discussing his disbelief with a film where the subject is himself, and deleted scenes with optional director’s commentary. This particular Second Sight release comes off a little different than past dispersions in physical attributes with a clear green Amary Blu-ray case, something I have not seen before from the UK label. Detail illustration of Eric Bana as the titular Chopper holding a gun to his head in ebullience is quite striking and explicit in its purple-green coloring. Inside is what you roughly get with any standard release with no insert, but the disc is pressed with the same cinereal-alike art representing one of the Chopper’s frequent locations in the story. ”Chopper” is regionally locked on B for the feature that has a 94-minute runtime and is UK certified 18 for strong bloody violence and very strong language. Unlike any criminal to have ever lived and to have ever been represented on screen, “Chopper” wily tussles with Western audiences despite the dedication of Eric Bana but the work and the film can’t be denied as anything but great about an unusual man in a hyper dramatization that pierces more truth than fiction and now Second Sight cements a next level, Hi-Def release to better legitimize the irregular gang member and thug Chopper into cinema homes around the globe.

EVIL Loves to Clown Around. “The Jester” reviewed! (Dread / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on December 8, 2023

“The Jester” on Blu-ray Home Video!

Days before Halloween, a man hangs himself from off a bridge. His funeral not only services the wake for his grieving daughter Jocelyn but also brought out his estranged and aggrieved daughter Emma, Jocelyn’s half-sister from a failed marriage their father had abandoned when Emma was very young. Jocelyn reaches across the aisle to connect and to bond with the peripheral Emma, but the scorned older half-sibling only expresses anger and confliction over feeling grief for man who no longer wanted to be a part of her life until the very end after reaching out a few times to make amends. Emma and Jocelyn soon discover that a malevolent, supernatural trickster, known as the Jester, was somehow involved with their father’s untimely demise and now, on Halloween night, the Jester is following and toying with them in a playfully sadistic manner, preying on the one thing that bonds and also disconnects the sisters from being content.

Based on his 2016 three chaptered shorts of the same name, writer-director Colin Krawchuk pulls from the best parts of those shorts, sprinkles a little more sadism on top, and creates his debut into full-length feature film with this titular antagonist, “The Jester,” at the center. Co-written with longtime collaborate on various shorts as well as “The Jester” shorts is Michael Sheffield, who also brings to life the Jester’s amusing animated animosity and flamboyant cryptic personality from script to screen. “The Jester” represents a theme of tormenting guilt for this afflicted and those surrounding the person and is symbolized by the absurdity of a clown masked fool in a gaudily colored top-hat and cheap suit with a deviant chip on his shoulder. Film in and around the Frederick, Maryland area, “The Jester” is a product of Cinematic Productions, based in local Maryland region, and the Dread Central acquiring entertainment company, Epic Productions, under the Dread genre label with Carlo Glorioso, Patrick Ewald, and Katie Page producing with Mary Beth McAndrews and Eduardo Sánchez (director of “Satanic Hispanics”) executive producing.

Through the years of cinema, a plethora of personalities have emerged all vying for our entertainment seeking eye and while most, especially in the indie market, recycle the very idiosyncratic eccentricities of notable characters or extract some inspiration for blatant misappropriation into their own performance, every once and awhile comes a role that can be undeniably fresh, engaging, and unpredictable. That’s how Michael Sheffield’s Jester presents to me as a versatile villain with broad expressions and precise stratagem that even by not saying a single word in the entire runtime still manages to have us on edge with just what’s up the Jester’s playful, prestidigitate sleeve. Sheffield’s tall and lanky stature greatly suits the Machiavellian complimented by the outlandish vestments and wooden cane. As an unceremonious symbol of guilt, the Jester becomes the obstacle between half-sisters from both sides of their father’s railroad tracks. Delaney White’s introductory feature film begins her off as Jocelyn, a well-liked, sympathetic, and balanced young woman who can’t help but want to connect with an older half-sister she never knew. Lelia Symington (“Brut Force”) couldn’t portray older sister Emma anymore opposite as a daughter holding onto a rightful grudge against a father who abandoned here at a young age. That same bitterness extends to the more affable and kept cherished extension of her father, to Jocelyn, but an innate emotion eats at Emma, an inexplicable pang for his death that drives her to pique when she shouldn’t care less about her deadbeat dad and that manifests into deadlier, dastardlier demons, or at least one dressed-up, duplicitous, and dapper demon. Matt Servitto, Lena Janes, Mia Rae Roberts, Sam Lukowski (“You’re F@#K’n Dead!”), and Cory Okouchi (“Ninjas vs. Zombies”) fill out “The Jester’s” roles.

Once the end credits started roll, I immediately research “The Jester” like I do with all the films I review to try and go beyond just the film with information, trivia, connections, see other reviews and public opinion, etc. Why? Because I’m a hardcore nerd, but what I found in the public comments about the film, especially on Letterboxd, is that many compared “The Jester” as a rip of Art the Clown from “Terrifier.” Initially, a small voice inside my mind, processing the images from my visual cortex, thought the very same the mass majority did, or does rather. Quickly, I nipped that fleeting resemblance in the bud because of a couple of reasons: “Terrifier’s” whole gag is gore-drenched for purely shock value as Art the Clown terrorizes and kills those in his path whereas “The Jester” represents more between the lines of guilt, loss, and connecting with what matters between the disfiguration of a dysfunction relations and the other reason is both films nearly sprout at the same time. Yes, “All Hallows Eve” was released three years prior to Krawchuk’s short films and while it’s unknown whether the director was inspired by Damien Leone’s first pass, “All Hallows Eve” didn’t quite overflow the social media cup like “Terrifier” did a few years later. Many in the horror community compare “The Jester” to “Terrifier” despite the latter not having been coined until the same year as “The Jester’s” shorts films were released. Sure, Art the Clown and the Jester share similarities, such as a form of a clown mask and have malevolent supernatural abilities, but the blanket comments are like saying just because Jason Voorhees wears a mask, uses a knife, and doesn’t say a word that he is a clone of Michael Myers. Overall, “The Jester’s” understated tone with a no holds barred harlequin has decent dark humor due in part to Michael Sheffield’s charade of an act and precision special effect, editing, and camera angles. Where “The Jester” struggles is where it hurts the film the most and that is with an ending that just drops off the edge of the cliff without a ton of closer that really wraps Jocelyn and Emma’s story neatly nor offers a satisfyingly open-ended dangler for more violent jest. Perhaps 7-years too late after the release of the shorts, “The Jester” will see push back as a facsimile but I implore you, the readers, to give the Colin Krawchuk feature more than just a bias-gazing once over.

Epic Pictures’ genre label Dread releases “The Jester” on an AVC encoded, 1080p high-definition, BD25 that’s presented in a widescreen 1.85:1 aspect ratio. As much of the film takes place at night, details are heavily reliant on the lighting and the compression encoding. While “The Jester” is not the epitome of sharp edge delineation and detail with a supercharged color palette, the encoded shingles retain a pullulating scheme of adequate grading and detail keeping artifacts to a reduced level within the slightly softer image. The heavier image compression is fastened to the three shorts in the bonus content with horrendous basins of splotchy patches. Two English Dolby Digital audio tracks come with the release: a 5.1 surround sound and a 2.0 stereo. Each render about the same with the 5.1 slimming down and isolating channels for specific back, front, and center audio assignments. No issues with the clean and clear dialogue through the digital, interference-free registering though most of the conversations are one-sided with the Jester’s mime expressions. English closed caption subtitles are available. The three Colin Krawchuk and Michael Sheffield 2016 shorts, as I said multiple times already, are included in the special features along with the official trailer and other Dread previews. The standard Blu-ray Amary has a hard-lit Jester face to exact ever fold of the mask smack on the front cover with a bare insert pocket and the pressed disc art fanned out with the Jester’s antique playing cards imprinted on top. The region free release has a runtime of 80 minutes and comes not rated. Clever, entertaining, and devilish, “The Jester” acts the whimsical clown of conscience-stricken torment with an indelible joker different from the rest of the villainy pool.

“The Jester” on Blu-ray Home Video!

Amusing Little EVIL Enjoying the Carnival Rides! “Ghoulies II” reviewed! (MVD Visual / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on December 6, 2023

Next Time You Sit On the Can, Check the Bowl First! “Ghoulies II” on Blu-ray!

The travelling Hardin Family carnival has been on a steady decline through the years. The Hardin Holdings group, aka Mr. Hardin, dispatches his young senior accountant and son, Philip Hardin, as authoritative proxy to ensure sustainable profit. One of the longstanding attractions, Satan’s Den, lies headfirst on the chopping block with a dismal profit rate. Determined to recover and avoid being permanently shut down, Larry, his drunk uncle Ned, and actor Sir Nigel Penneyweight won’t give up so easily despite needing a miracle. That miracle comes in the form of the Ghoulies who hitch a ride on Satan’s Den’s trailer while escaping persecution. The pintsized demons bring the slowly withering Satan’s Den back to lucrative life but at the deadly cost of the patrons and carneys who fall victim to the Ghoulies impish behavior. Larry vows to rid the amusement on their infestation after uncle Ned perishes at the demons’ tiny hands but Philip has glimmering money signs in his eyes.

They’re back! The Ghoulies return as masterless nomads after a failed attempt of abduction by a devout crusader aiming to destroy the pagan evocations and wreak mischievous havoc on a two-bit amusement park suffering from low attendance. The late Albert Band, father of Full Moon’s Charlie Band and director of “Dracula’s Dog” and “I Bury the Living,” took over the reins from first film director Luca Bercovici and helmed “Ghoules II,” a vastly different kind Ghoulies tale of terrorizing totality based off the Charlie Dolan story and a polished script from “Re-Animator’s” and “From Beyond’s” Dennis Paoli. Filmed entirely in Rome, and mostly in a soundstage, where Empire Pictures headquarters were located, the 1987 sequel was the last Ghoulies venture from executive producer Band and his Empire Productions empire before Vestron oversaw the subsequent sequels. Albert Band produced the feature with Frank Hildebrand (“Once Bitten,” “Project Metalbeast”) serving as associate producer.

With the contestable exception of the five prosthetic creatures receiving a dust off and sprucing up paint job, none of the lively characters from the first film return for the sequel in what becomes a principal clean slate. The story starts off with who appears to be a man of God fleeing on foot with a bag over his shoulder from three cloaked cult acolytes. There’s never a reference to this escaping man (Anthony Dawson) or the shrouded cultists in torch-in-hand tow but does arouse a bit of enigmatic energy around the Ghoulies misadventures through the human plane and happening upon the likes of two opposite side of the spectrum carneys who are also related between the long-in-the-tooth and drunk Ned by the loveable character actor in Royal Dano (“Killer Klowns from Outer Space,” “Spaced Invaders”) and his big top tenderfoot nephew Larry played by Damon Martin. Ned’s alcoholism combined with stress over possibly losing Satan’s Den makes causes him complexity within his closest confidants for when he happens upon the Ghoulies after citing an incantation, he’s also in a drunken stupor, and so he words of exciting, or maybe even warning, fall on deaf ears as intoxicated imaginations that result in a pity for his dependency. As Larry and the Shakespearean line spewing Sir Nigel Pennyweight (Phil Fondacaro, “Willow”) continue with setting up the ragamuffin that is the antiquated Satan’s Den, they let Neg wander despite suspecting his delusions of demons due to the pressures of one carnival hotshot Phil Hardin (J. Downing, “Robot Wars”) who has come to town to clean up his family’s carnival act with threatens of shutdowns and layoffs. Hardin’s your typical weight-throwing antagonist with a pompous attitude and wandering eye for the most gorgeous girl under the tent, in this case it’s with Larry’s love interest Nicole (Kerry Remsen, “Pumpkinhead”), a once great high-wire performer turned belly dancer for the departmental freakshow act. Nichole’s hidden talents, buried deep beneath past personal pain, will undoubted be utilized for climatic gain as all chaos breaks loose on carnival grounds with the Ghoulies break free of Satan’s Den menagerie of cardboard and latex-crafted horrors. “Ghoulies II” rounds out the cast with Jon Pennell, Sasha Jenson, Donnie Jeffcoat, Donald Hodson, Dale Wyatt, Romano Puppo, Ames Morton, Michael Deak, and Full Moon actor-turned-director William Butler (“Night of the Living Dead” ’90, “Baby Oopsie”).

Along with a new set of human characters, “Ghoulies II” also freshens up the trajectory by focusing less on the black magic that saturated the plot of the first film and relying more on the gremlin-like playfulness of the Ghoulies themselves, rightfully giving way into the very creatures of the title. There’s some magic involved but only to the extent that doesn’t have the Ghoulies rely on a master to evocate them from the Netherworld or for the dark powers to be used to perpetuate wickedness upon others. Instead, the ghoulies are depicted utilizing their skillsets, such as flying, oral expelling sticky-gunk, super-strength, and chomping, which obviously lead to more of a micro-level apocalypse of carnage; however, the print obtained for the MVD Blu-ray release is the edited down version for theatrical circulation so some, not a lot mind you, of the gory bits have been taken out and this makes the storyline stutter with misplaced time with rough segues and an imbalance of edits that aren’t as smooth. From what I’ve seen, the minuscule timed deleted scenes are not much more violent or gory but add just that tad more context to the next scene instead of our brains working to connect the dots on what should be a brain shutoff, entertaining creature feature. Yet, you can’t deny the sequel’s appeal that has turned to center around the little demons assiduously but managing to keep the same, steady pace of ferity and gothic skim of mise-en-scene from the first. Puppetry is retained for that palpable product while also introducing stop-motion, a visual effect that has served Empire/Full Moon well throughout the years and is only used sparingly to wet the limitless capabilities of our miniature monsters to roam free in open spaces.

“Ghoulies” return with the sequel to MVD’s Rewind Collection as Blu-ray release number 53 on the spine. The AVC encoded, high-definition, 1080p Blu-ray is presented in a widescreen 1.85:1 aspect ratio. A virtual carbon copy of the first film in regard to a well-preserved print, the sequel isn’t noted in having a 4K restoration scan like the antecessor release number 52 but the 2K scan offers an abundancy of positive picture rendering with a seamless color grading that isolates distinction and range as well as a tangible details, especially on characters and the ghoulies alike who are often gleaming and show off every nook and cranny ridge on their dark, hairy bodies. Aforementioned, this print is the theatrical cut, missing some gruesome elements for the sake of a broader audience, and while most of the print is near flawless, there is one dunk tank scene that’s cropped and noticeably marred with horizon creases in the brief airtime. The English LPCM uncompressed 2.0 stereo mix caters to every audible necessity of the “Ghoulies” soundtrack, ambience, Foley, and dialogue. The latter is clean and clear with prominence over the rest of the layers though I wouldn’t label it flawless with some echoey segments, almost a doubling effect, that might be due to the soundstage vibrations at Empire. Ambient track provides a wide range with exact depth with the example being inside Satan’s Den of horrors where doors creak, motorized bats fly overhead, and other models of haunted house spookery, along with an underlining carnivalesque soundtrack by Fuzzbee Morse (“Dolls”), is the epitome of a great sound design suffused together. English, French, and Spanish subtitles are optionally available on this release. Special features include an introduction by screenwriter Dennis Paoli, which is also available as a standalone at the play feature option, More Toilets, More Terror: A Making of Ghoulies 2 is a retrospective lookback with select cast and crew, an interview with Dennis Paoli Under a Magic Moon, the gruesome deleted scenes, a photo gallery, and theatrical trailer. Physical attributes include a VHS retro-esque mockup of the original poster art on a cardboard O-slipcover, fitting for the sub-bannering Rewind Collection. The same image graces the front cover of the clear Blu-ray Amary case, but the cover art is also reversible with one of the film’s most memorable smoochy-kiss moments plus title above. The disc is art pressed similar as the first film, a laser disc veneer on the Blu-ray top. Opposite side is the folded poster insert of the slipcover front image. The region A playback release has a runtime of 90 minutes and is rated PG-13. “Ghoulies II” retains that same diabolical energy as the first film but channels it very differently into the very titular creatures that puts them at the forefront instead of being just an afterthought in a sequel that celebrates their uncontrollable knavery and loving every second of it.

Next Time You Sit On the Can, Check the Bowl First! “Ghoulies II” on Blu-ray!

Crooked EVIL’s Fixation for Chocolate and a Childlike Girl Will be its Sole Destruction. “The Dead Mother” reviewed! (Radiance Films / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on November 17, 2023

“The Dead Mother” Lives on a 2-Disc, LE Blu-ray/CD Set from Radiance Films!

A botched burglary of an art restorer’s home leaves the art conservationist dead and her daughter wounded by a shotgun blast at the hands of apathetic criminal Ismael Lopez. Years later, the daughter, Leire, has grown into being a young and beautiful simpleton at a mentally disabled clinic where the mute girl often recesses to a caretaker’s city home off clinic grounds. By coincidence, the lifelong crook Ismael catches sight of her on the street and becomes obsessed with her witness of his past transgressions. Conferring with his love-hate girlfriend and felonious partner Maite, the two decide to kidnap her while she’s off clinic campus and put her up for ransom after Ismael couldn’t bring himself to initially kill her but an increasing preoccupation for the chocolate-fond and childlike Leire within a stoic Ismael places an insidious jealously and enigmatic strain between him and Maite that tests that already turmoiled codependency of affection and survival.

Emotionally recrudescent with multiple intrinsic layers of tough guilt, incontrollable desire, and maybe even a pinch of forbearing responsibility that can be labeled cossetting at times, “The Dead Mother” is a beautiful film with unsettling undertones from Spanish filmmaker Juanma Bajo Ulloa. The “Baby” director cowrite the “The Dead Mother” alongside younger brother Eduardo Bajo Ulloa, their second collaboration after hit success with the duo’s crime thriller “Butterfly Wings” two years prior in 1991. The Spanish film is shot primarily in Vitoria, Spain with the backdrop of a near classic medieval architecture of urban city with old wooden interiors, high ceilers, and gothic qualities, providing a relative old world air to a tale of petty ideals and madness that disintegrates by the mere site of pure, ingenuous goodness. Under the private and state run production companies Ministry of Culture and Gasteizko Zinema, “The Dead Mother,” or “La Madre Muerta,” is produced by Fernando Bauluz.

To obtain the intensity, the coldness, the unpredictable, the pitch-black humor, and the soft touch, Juanma Bajo Ulloa doesn’t hire a vocational dramatic. Instead, the filmmaker chances actor just getting his feet wet the Spanish cinema with Karra Elejalde whose assortment of comedy and drama in his first years seasons him for the role of the reprobate Ismael Lopez, a coldhearted killer with a short fuse for anyone who defies or belittles him and, on the opposite side, can be pensive about his past and next steps in a haphazard way. Opposite Ismael is a devout partner/lover, equal in ruthless potential, yet happy, in her own way, to play house wife in their ramshackle, fly-by-night home. Played by the Portuguese-born, Belgium-raised singer Lio, her stage name in lieu of Vanda Maria Ribeiro Furtado Tavares de Vasconcelos, the pop star, who still to this day floats between acting and singing, rivals Elejalde’s dark-and-light intensity within her own character’s amorous feelings for the petty crook and murder and would do anything to keep him, even if that means destroying what he adores. And what does Ismael adore? Ismael’s new fascination is with Leire, the once little girl who attempted to murder now all grown up, developmentally disabled, and beautiful. While I can’t fault in any of “The Dead Mother’s” cast performances, I could not imagine Leire being portrayed by anyone other than Ana Álvarez (“Geisha”). Exuding innocence in her eyes amongst a full-body vacuity, Lio might be the professional singer but it’s Álvarez who hits every note of amentia that constantly has us questioning how much of her facility is there, conscious of the bizarre love-triangle or the homicidal-involving abduction. In the same breadth, a muted Álvarez talks with her eyes, her expressions, and her body language that subtly fidgets or does other under-the-radar subnormal behaviors to convey an unequivocal virtue starkly in contrast amongst her callous captors who enjoy playing house or even try to make her smile or laugh with jokes and play. Eventually, the dynamic dissolves, like many love triangles do, between an advantageous perversion and deadly ultimatums that will result unfavorably for most. “The Dead Mother” rounds out the cast with Silvia Marsó, Elena Irureta, Ramón Barea, and Gregoria Mangas.

Ismael’s fixation toward Leire is so tremendously opaque without much exertion it’s difficult to understand the criminal’s ultimate motives, leaving audiences with a shrouded aftertaste of open interpretation. Perhaps guilty from killing his mother all those years ago and nearly killing her, a wash of responsibility for her now placid and childish existence courses through him, driving him to do the bare necessity in taking care of her. Another facet to Ismael’s curious interest is Leire’s inherent beauty despite her absent situational awareness. His attempts to make the young woman’s empty expression become joyous with a smile fails, as if that blank-faced barrier keeps him from moving forward with something akin to being romantically involved. In a couple of brief, uncomfortable viewing stints, Ismael gropes with the second time being passionately fondled by Maite in attempt to win over affection in what Maite believes is a duel between Leire for his attention. Leire can be interpreted as a burden that has passed from the mother, hence the title, to Ismael, an assuming responsibility pseudo-father figure. When Ismael kills Leire’s mother during the bungled burglary, a hint of a smile extends upon her face before the blood drips down her eyes in a fantastic POV shot by cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe. Supporting this theory is the Renaissance painting of mother and child with a tear in the canvas between them, a painting that Ismael lingers over for a few seconds while rummaging through the art restorer’s home. The ambiguous nature of “The Dead Mother” only succeeds because of the confident performances and Juanma Bajo Ulloa’s august eye for the impeccable shots he wants and achieves.

“The Dead Mother” arrives onto a limited-edition Blu-ray, to the tune of 3000 copies, from Radiance Films U.S. line. The new 4K scanned transfer, restored from the 35mm negative and stored on an AVC encoded, high-definition 1080p, BD50, is presented in a widescreen 2.35:1 Cinemascope aspect ratio. Juanma Bajo Ulloa oversaw the pristine cleaning of film strip defects and the new, frame-by-frame color grading at the Cherry Towers lab in Madrid, Spain. The excellent work by the restoration company and Ulloa’s supervision of the process resulted in a naturally clean edged and detailed saturated transfer to rejuvenate the image with a fresh look. The overcasting shadows and slate aesthetics with brilliantly hued low-key lighting suggest an immense lugubrious tone throughout, accentuated by the antediluvian structures. The Spanish language uncompressed 2.0 stereo audio absorbs what’s absent, which isn’t much, with an uninhibited, original fidelity of the dialogue, surrounding milieu, and the bordering whimsical string soundtrack by Bingen Mendizábal. There are no hints of hissing, cracking, popping, or fragmented damage of the audio track that persists on being punchy with every Ismael scuffle down to the very rustling of the chocolate wrapper in Leire’s chocolate-stained hands. While range is plentiful and natural, depth is not as utilized unless absolutely necessary, such as with the oncoming horns of the diesel trains in the trainyard or Ismael whistling between the pews of a decrepit church shot from the chorus balcony. English subtitles are available and optional. Special features on this limited-edition set include a Spanish audio commentary by the director with burned in English subtitles, The Story of the Dead Mother an archive behind-the-scenes featurette of retrospective interviews from 2008 and some raw footage of takes that’s, again, in the Spanish language with English subtitles, Bajo Ulloa’s short film “Victor’s Kingdom” aka “El Reino de Victor” from 1989 and now restored in a 4K scan, the film’s trailer, and photo gallery. Physical attributes impress within the clear, slightly thicker amary Blu-ray case that’s been conventional distribution use with Radiance Films in its near retro, austere facade. Sheathing a reversible cover of the original media artwork inside, the outside cover continues to remind me of its Arthur Fleck appeal with a doleful Ismael Lopez in his very best clown make up. Both discs, the Blu-ray and the CD soundtrack, are overlapped and locked in place pressed their respective black and creme coloring scheme. On the insert side contains a 35-page color booklet filled to the brim with captured film images, promotional images, and cast-and-crew posed pictures along with the CD track listing, cast and crew breakdown, and expressionism written pieces and essays by Eduardo Bajo Ulloa, Juanma Bajo Ulloa, Nacho Vigalondo, and Xavier Aldana Reyes. The unrated feature has a runtime of 111 minutes and his region free for all you worldly, cultured lovers of cinema out there. The mother might be dead but Juanma Bajo Ulloa’s converging of cynical odd behavior with the breakdown of status quo by a wicked curveball makes for a darkly cherub of Spanish filmmaking worth coddling in Radiance’s exceptional release.

“The Dead Mother” Lives on a 2-Disc, LE Blu-ray/CD Set from Radiance Films!

EVIL Says Talk to the Hand. “Talk to Me” reviewed! (Lionsgate / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on November 8, 2023

“Talk to Me” on Blu-ray/DVD/Digital!

The two-year anniversary of the death is a solemn time for Mia to mourn the hard loss of her beloved mother who took her own life, or at least that is what her father tells her. Feeling uneasy by her father’s account that circulates doubt uncontrollably, Mia pries her way into her best friend Jade’s family for comfort and becomes equally amiably with Jade’s younger brother, Riley, as like another sister. When social acquaintances post viral videos of peers supposedly being possessed by an embalmed hand of a psychic for party games, Mia is eager to participate. All is fun and games with the dead inhabiting and speaking through the hand holder for a limited time until Riley’s spirt takes a violent turn, leaving the boy severely injured and in a comatose state after exhibiting Mia’s mother possessing him. Obsessed to speak again with late mother, Mia uses the hand to talk to the dead and learns Riley’s soul is stuck on the other side and being tortured by the countless, malign spirits.

Grief can be so powerfully self-destructive that holding an embalmed hand, becoming connected with the grotesque spirit, and letting the shadow world possess you can be addictive and even as far as a parlor game to pursue answers or a desperate release from suffering. The 2022, breakout Australian production “Talk to Me” explores that forced hand of grief, literally, with a socially pressuring aspect that can be contagiously engrossing and collaterally harmful if unchecked. The Southern Australian-born brothers Danny and Michael Philippou come out swinging on their debut feature-length film penned by Danny alongside Bill Hinzman based on a concept by “Bluey” executive producer of all people, Daley Pearson. “Talk to Me” is a coproduction between The South Australian Corporation, Screen Australia, Head Gear Films, and Causeway Films with Christopher Seeto (“The Flood”), Samantha Jennings (“Cargo”), and Kristina Ceyton (“The Babadook”) producing. The film is released theatrically by A24.

“Talk to Me” opening with a young, shoulder length haired man desperately searching for his younger brother through a sea of people at a house party. The scene sets the film’s take-no-prisoners tone with begins with compassion as the older brother comes to the rescue of his disturbed, shirtless kin, trying to display the flashlight gleaming phone camera sharks who smell viral video blood in the water, when in a surprising turn of events the younger brother stabs his sibling before ramming the chef knife into his own skull. “Talk to Me” segues into the cast of teenage characters, spanning the age spectrum of 14 to 20, letting us know right off the bat that youths are on the chopping block and no one will be safe. The mostly untried cast pulls through with a trypanosome performance that gets under your skin, festering in its linger. Sophie Wilde helms being the principal lead Mia still shell shocked by the sudden death of her twinning mother two years after later. Suspicious of her father’s role in the death, Mia escapes and integrates herself into best friend Jade’s family, a role resting in between two uncomfortable rocks of being the new girl beside Mia’s onetime ex. Alexandra Jensen as Jade floats carefully portraying Mia’s friend and a pursuant tiptoe toward the relationship with Daniel (Otis Dhanji) that passively irks Mia in the form of playful jokes, side glares, and inner demons becoming fruition ones expressing desires. Sophie Wilde, on the other hand, spans the gamut with a flip of a switch soul spectrum polarized by spirit madness, grief over loss, and a fallback friendship. When Wilde turns on the darkest light of possession, when her character lets the spirit into her body, the disheveled whole of Mia lives up to the actress’s surname becoming an uninhibited periapt for the spirit within that lusts over the youngest in the room, Riley (Joe Bird), for his childlike purity and when the spirits have control of over his soul in what is an orgasmic suffering that neither is parlous fun or exciting. “Talk to Me’s” cast rounds out with Zoe Terakes, Chris Alosio, Marcus Johnson, Alexandria Steffensen, Ari McCarthy, and “Homeland’s” Miranda Otto.

“Talk to Me” is an original byproduct stemmed from the cursed fetish genre. The inexplicable mummified hand with unknown origins, thought to be once the hand of a medium, falls into the hands of a difference kind of representation. Not to be bestowed conventional tropes like an inanimate object to be feared, the mirror in “Oculus” comes to mind or the cenobite unleashing puzzle box of “Hellraiser,” the persevered curled open hand doesn’t hold that sort of malevolent power, at first. Despite its powerful connection to the purgatorial other side with frightening results of classic possession cases – levitation, catatonia, dissociative profanity and behavior, etc. – these more-or-less new generational children treat something they don’t completely understand, such as ancient, mystical artifacts and in this case, human remains to be exact, without respect and humility, using the hand as if an additive drug, parlor game, or write to go viral amongst peers. Directors Danny and Michael Philippou use the peer-pressuring viral video social commentary of their film as a sensationalized stern warning that has equal cause-and-effect results. Ostentatiously showcasing more of the adolescent revelry spree rather than the mangled, decaying, and water-bloated entities in front of them or recklessly inhabiting their bodies once let corporeally inside. For someone like the character Mia who continues to process close loss and has troubling thoughts, or maybe even delusions, regarding her father’s role in her mother’s untimely demise, she yearns for answers and when Mia receives a glimpse into what she believes is her kindred spirit mother through the vessel that is her friend Riely, aching impulses take over already crumbling judgements and she goes down the rabbit hole despite the consequences to herself, to her father, and to her adopted family.

Get a grip and take “Talk to Me’s” hand to experience the possessively powerful Philippou brothers’ debut film on a Lionsgate 2-disc Blu-ray/DVD/Digital release. The AVC encoded, 1080p high-definition, BD50 and the MPEG-2 encoded, upscaled standard definition, DVD are presented in a 2.39:1 widescreen aspect ratio. What’s achieved out of the Aaron McLisky’s through-the-looking-glass visual vignette is focus driven, claustrophobic, and engaging to be present of a reality teetering the line between two worlds. Details inarguably shine, casting a great deal of deep shadows within the hard lighting to set the ominous tone. Skin textures gleam within the light as well as coarse change with the vapid and pale makeup adjustments of the dead-entered body or even when we do brief see a condemned soul, the greatly applied contusions, decay, or bloating is reflected with great care from the infinite image detail. The release has an English Dolby Atomos output reaching the difficult crevices of the inaudible dark holes and exposing them to immense carousal and haunting zeal that makes the experience more palpable. Dialogue renders nicely through albeit a heavy-handed score that relentlessly attempts to knock down the channel-leveled door and a strong Australian accent on most of the cast may sway those who don’t have a keen and distinct diverse ear away from the film or may find discerning a challenge to channel from beginning-to-end. While most of the camera’s frame stays in medium closeup to closeup, McLisky’s able to find depth where advantageous to bring a creep building dark cloud after Mia’s one minute over willing but felt forced possession participation. English SDH and Spanish subtitles are optionally available. Special features include an audio commentary with brothers Philippou, a featurette with the cast and crew in their experience and thoughts on the film, entitled In the Grip of Terror, deleted scenes, and theatrical trailer. Behind a rigid O-slipcover imaged with the centerpiece un-ensepulchered, plaster anoint, and sanskrit-esque-ladened hand upright and in the forefront with phone flashlights dully lit in the background. The typical Blu-ray snapper houses the same slipcover image slipped in between the plastic sheeting whilst the two discs are held on snapper locks on each side of the interior accompanied by an insert for the digital download. Both discs are pressed with the same font and coloring on in reverse with a baby blue stark against white. The 95-minute minute feature is region A locked and is rated R for strong bloody violence, some sexual material, and language. “Talk to Me” is utterly and terrifyingly fresh and freakish in more so with the naturality toward the touching and the facetious ways with an embalmed hand that’s a one-way personal radio to the dead as a means to be engaged in popular, peer-pressuring social activity and as something to prove with reckless naivety.

“Talk to Me” on Blu-ray/DVD/Digital!