Category Archives: Literary Adaptations

A Bond of Friendship Formed Over an EVIL Annual Contest. “The Long Walk” reviewed! (Lionsgate / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“The Long Walk” on Blu-ray for the Holidays!

Over a decade ago, a divisive civil war nearly tore the United States of America apart, leaving in it’s wake a country on the brink of financial ruin and its place in the world behind other nations.  To help heal the nation back into an industrial superpower, an annual long walk was enacted to be a show of encouragement, an act of bravery, and to instill a sense of duty and production amongst the citizens of America.  Voluntary participants of young men, one from each state, must walk continuously at 3 ore more miles per hour with a military escort.  Last man standing will be bestowed a large cash prize and granted one wish of their choosing.  Those unable to continue their trek at the required pace will be issued three warnings before being gunned down, punching out their ticket.  Home state’s Ray and Georgia’s Peter form a bond on their walk that’ll test not only their friendship but their will to live in hopes to change the contest’s cruelty.  

“The Long Walk” has itself been on a long walk to being adapted on film from the first official novel by the prolific and renowned suspense writer Stephen King under his pseudonym of Richard Bachman.  I’ve italicized official because the late 60’s novel wasn’t published and released until 1979, five years later after “Carrie” was published in 1974.  Through the hands of George Romero and Ridley Scott, neither could materialize a filmic rendition of what is considered his most grim work.  That is until “Constantine,” “I Am Legend,” and “Hunger Games” director Francis Lawrence came along, acquired the rights, hired “Strange Darling’s” JT Mollner to script the project, and produced perhaps the most disturbed dystopian film of 2025.  “The Long Walk” feature is a collaborative production from Spooky Pictures, Electric Lady, and Miramax, is produced by Steven Schneider, Francis Lawrence, Roy Lee, Cameron MacConomy, Rhonda Baker, Ellen Rutter, and Carrie Wilkins, and has been given executive producer Stephen King’s blessing for minor, yet impactful, creative control.

“The Long Walk” courses with a young but up-and-coming cast with a veteran icon bringing up the rear as coxswain spurring the unpleasant action.  “Licorice Pizza’s” Cooper Hoffman, son of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman, and English actor David Jonsson whose just came off his part in a big science-fiction horror franchise with “Alien:  Romulus” from last year.  Together, Hoffman and Jonsson play the central characters of Ray Garrity and Peter McVries, two young men who formulate a bond while voluntarily participating in the annual deadly contest that traverses for hundreds of miles through heartland portions of an undisclosed state.  Right from the get-go, Ray and Peter hit it off as the check in for the contest simultaneously upon arrival with the story quickly introducing and discerning a select sundry of other walkers that are either in it to make friends, be an in-it-to-win-it antagonists, or be a formidable indifferent with a spectacular end to their ticket or otherwise arc toward either direction.  In these walk-along parts are Ben Wang, Charlie Pummer (“Moonfall”), Joshua Odjick, Tut Nyuot, Roman Griffin Davis, Garrett Wareing (“Independence Day:  Resurgence”), and Jordan Gonzalez supporting the Ray and Peter narrative with their own in-state regionalism and dialect backstories and motives for sacrificial strutting, which their exit that much more poignant.  Then you have Mark Hamill, who needs no introduction, in a performance on a totally different plane of existence than the young man walking for their very lives.  Blind to compassion and stern on his belief sacrifice is necessary for the greater good of the nation, Hamill as no nonsense brass, known only as The Major,” is a mythical figurehead initially held in high esteem and awe or overall indifferent amongst the young men.  All except one with Ray being the firm outlier of contrarian using passive aggressive measures that build to an endgame goal.  Sporting large aviators, green fatigues, and occasionally holding and firing a sidearm, Hamill’s method ways really come alive within The Major’s gung-ho disposition inside an authoritarian America.  Judy Greer (“Jurassic World”) and Josh Hamilton (“Dark Skies”) round out the cast as Ray’s parents. 

No matter how grim “The Long Walk” spans the 108-minute runtime, the story isn’t necessarily all bleak.  While the time period is unknown and the war that has seemingly divided the nation goes unsaid, one can assume the decade is late 1960s to early 1970s based off the military fatigues and weaponry, the dialect and slang vernacular, and the outer shell of the world with clothing, cars, and storefronts that speak to a simpler time where no cell phone exists, transmitter radios are the news and music, and the presence of any modern-day convenience lost amongst the vast fields and deprived brick-and-mortars of small town America.  Yet, the story walks along the lines of some alternate, dystopian reality, pre-dating a “Hunger Games” like contest involving the permanent elimination of young people in effort to better society.  Fortunately for “The Long Walk,” director Francis Lawrence directed “Hunger Games” and that gives him a leg up on the tone this adaptation needed for the big screen but although the two share a similar theme, the differences between them are vast with “The Long Walk” set in a past instead of a future dysphoria, objects and places are established and grounded by reality rather than creative fiction, and the violence is by far the grislier.  Often, violence can be gratuitously supplemental and unaffecting but Lawrence’s intention to show closeup executions contrasts with weight against the boys’ bond building during their fear and their ambition test.  With every explosion of brain matter and bits of flesh the stakes are real and the tension is thick even if the panic is subdued amongst the walking competitors.  Yet, with every ticket punched, that tightness starts to show signs of shuttering in conjunction with fatigue and that carries on for miles.  Much like the film adaptation of Frank Darabont’s “The Mist,” the ending for “The Long Walk” has been altered from the novel with prior Stephen King approval and while “The Mist” absolutely shatters all the hope with tons of despair and irony in a blaze of glory ending where one’s heart drops like a cannonball in the ocean, “The Long Walk’s” finale barely fizzle to make the same impact and can even be said to be a predictable modern moving ending. 

“The Long Walk” puts one foot in front of the other toward a new Blu-ray release from Lionsgate.  The AVC encoded, high-definition presentation in 1080p, is stored on a BD50 with a widescreen 1.39:1 aspect ratio.  Sharp detail in the small percentage desaturated picture offers a mid-20th century America air along with the costuming and production sets and locations.  Fabric textures result better in sweat-induced cotton Ts overtop a variety of muted shaded pants and solid army fatigues while the rest of the landscape has a green, brown, and tan landscape of a scarce Midwest, harnessing widescreen and medium shots for the open terrain that equally freeing and beautiful yet also confining and harsh in the grim, dystopian contest; however, the textures take a back seat to the chunky bits of exploded flesh, blood, and brain matter splattering either in gray and painted asphalt or spreading amongst the wind.  While the detail doesn’t provide all the gory bits and pieces there’s enough there to really cause alarm from within.  The English Dolby Amos is the primary English track for best to enclose the immediate space surrounding the 50 State participates feet hitting the pavement and the escorting military convoy tank and wheel tracks.  Gun shots are jolting that tear into the audio senses in step with the graphic nature of the scene of apathetic militaristic executions.  There are curious post-execution sounds from the blood pooling on the street in what sounds like a continuous gush of blood that hits the side channels; its an odd action for sound to take audible shape, especially in scenes that are not an extreme close up but rather materialize out of medium shots.  Dialogue is perfectly suitable in the conversational piece between the young men and the gruff Major.  Other audio format choices include a Spanish Dolby Digital 5.1 and a French Dolby Digital 5.1.  There are also an English 2.0 descriptive audio and subtitles in English, Spanish, and French.  Special features include feature length documentary Ever Onward:  Making the Long Wal” with crew – such as director, writer, and DP – and cast – including Cooper Hoffman, David Jonsson, Garrett Wareing and more – interviews discussing the depths of “The Long Walk” from A-to-Z, from it’s previous adaptation concept rights held in limbo down to the individual character mindsets.  Two theatrical trailers are the only other special features encoded.  Lionsgate Blu-ray Amaray case is encased a O-slipcover with straightforward (pun intended) artwork that’s also on the case artwork.  The digital copy leaflet is inside for digital moving watching pleasure.  The 108 minute film is encoded region A and is rated R for strong bloody violence, grisly images, alcohol, pervasive language and sexual references. 

Last Rites: An intense and somber America born out of division and fear is a reverse reality, an alternate take on what could have been or could be soon, as “The Long Walk” glorifies sacrifice as a scapegoat for national pride, strength, and the greater good in a warped sense of authoritarian rule and industrial encouragement.

“The Long Walk” on Blu-ray for the Holidays!

EVIL is the Will of the Gods. “Malpertuis” reviewed! (Radiance Films / Limited Edition Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“Malpertuis” Now Available at Amazon!

Jan, a young sailor returns home from a voyage to find his family home gone.  After getting into a scuffle with pimp at a night club, he’s knocked unconscious by a blackjack and wakes up to his sister Nancy taking care of him and in the bed inside the Malpertuis home of his draconian uncle, Cassavius, a wealthy, stern, and impatient man on the verge of death with terminal illness.  The sailor finds they’re not alone in the large labyrinth estate with peculiar relatives, nearby acquaintances, and longtime servants.  Before his death, Cassavius has his will read with everyone present bedside, announcing the distribution of the immense inheritance amongst the close assembly who’ve either worked and slaved hand and foot for Cassavius or have been on the outside clawing up into his good graces for their greed.  Yet, to receive their portion, they must abide by one stipulation:  they can never leave the Malpertuis.  Jan plunges himself into Cassavius’s unfathomable parting will and design, seeking to unearth Malpertuis’s warren secrets, but all a while, a killer begins to pluck away potential beneficiaries.

The 1943 gothic novel of the title by Belgium author Jean Ray serves as the film adaptation source for Harry Kümel’s 1971 gialli-like and surreal maddening “Malpertuis.”  Released in the U.S. as “The Legend of Doom House,” the Belgium and Dutch co-production creates phantasmic journey down the rabbit hole that unravels a mystery of pantheon proportions.  The “Daughters of Darkness” directing Belgium filmmaker helms the faultlessly fantastical adaptation and script by Jean Ferry, who would also collaborate with Kümel on “Daughters of Darkness” as well as pen original and adaptations of Franco-Italiano melodramas from “The Wayward Wife” to “The Foxiest Girl in Paris.”  Pierre Levie (1969 “The Witness”); and Paul and Ritta Laffargue (“The Mushroom”) produce the gothic and Greek movie under Artemis Film and Les Productions Artistes Associés.

“Malpertius” houses an international cast that ranges from the native English-speaking countries of Britain and America to the European republics of France, Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands.  The biggest headliner out of the bunch, and perhaps the biggest drunk at the time too, is none other than “Citizen Kane’s” Orson Welles in the boisterous patriarchal role, Cassasvius, on the brink of death.  Welles commands the screen in his short lived but striking hard every note performance that simply overpowers an otherwise Eurocentric cast fashioned with off the wall characters.  The narrative circles around the ingenuous Jan freshly off the boat for a little R&R.  Played by Mathieu Carrière in one of his earliest performances of his copiously filled career that includes horror-based credits like “Born for Hell,” “Nurse Massacre” and “The Murdered Young Girl,” Jan refrains from mostly having a voice but rather actions his will to discover Cassavius’s secrets within Malpertius’s walls as well as extract his fellow beneficiaries aenigmas, such as why the lovely Euryale won’t ever look him in the eye though she’s destined to be his wife per Cassasvius’ will, his sister Nancy’s inexplicable need to leave Malpertuis with her lover, and Alice, one of three intrusive and gossipy sisters, with her cozy up urge to bed Jan while also sating the sexual desires of his greedy cousin and sneaky creep Charles Dideloo (Michael Bouquet, “The Bride Wore Black”).  All three women are played by a single actress.  Hailing from the UK, “The Violent Enemy” actress Susan Hampshire goes into complete incognito mode that disguises her physical attributes and character personalities with mere makeup and temperament tonal shifts too genuine to easily notice Hampshire being all three women.  Hampshire deserves much of the credit and earns a trifecta win by facing down the challenge without compromising character.  Perhaps a little unfair to single out Hampshire as such but the entire “Malpertius” cast deserves recognition for their titan acts, representing humanity-cladded divinity in the most simplistic of human limitation that none of them, apart from one being more recognizable against the others, can be pinpointed definitively who they’re roleplaying.  Charles Janssens, Jean-Pierre Cassel, Walter Rilla, Dora van der Groen, Daniel Piol, Sylvie Vartan, Jenny Van Santvoort, Jet Naessens, Cara Van Wersch, Fanny Winkler, and Bob Storm fill out the cast.

There’s nothing quite like a good film adaptation of a novel.  Author Jean Ray’s four-part narrative isolates characters more exclusively that delineates the individual storylines of the whole gothic affair inside , and outside in parts, of the crumbling Malpertuis estate.  The Harry Kümel and Jean Ferry vision set out to make “Malpertuis” cinematic by collapsing the subset storylines into a single perspective narrative bestowed upon Jan, who is also the main protagonist in Ray’s novel under Jean-Jacques Grandsire, but less involved in comparison to the film version.  This forces audiences to see through Jan’s eyes, a curious, naïve and perhaps good nature fellow, a nationalized sailor of sorts who cares more about his home and sister than the depravity of sailors on shore leave, and what Jan experiences is nothing short of exploitation, sexualization, and torment amongst Cassasvius’s most prized collection of heirs.  Which brings me to uncle Cassavius who is set up, through the remarks of his nephew Jan, as nothing more than a gruff and stern, ill-tempered man living in the gloomy prison-like structure that is Malpertuis, but Cassavius transforms in a postmortal light as no longer a wealthy grouch but as an omnipotent collector that instills a great power upon him albeit his once feeble condition that took his life.  His house is very much like himself, confounding, mysterious, and surreal now pact with peculiar beings that look, sound, and feel human, or at least to Jan, and in appearances to the audiences too.  There’s a theme of limitless power over power itself but with the caveat that everything must come to an end and “Malpertuis” has one Mount Olympus-sized end. 

What’s also definitive is the limited-edition Blu-ray set from Radiance Films.  A beautifully curated boxset encasing a dedication to the undervalued “Malpertuis” with a AVC encoded, 1080p resolution, BD50 set that’s presented in a 1.85:1 widescreen aspect ratio.  In the midst of Malpertuis’s dark corridors and staircases, its classically drab common rooms, and a bleakly deserted grayness to the seaport town that exemplifies the intentionally restored stark and severe grading overseen by director Harry Kümel, the 4K scan, compiled by the shorten Cannes cut and Kümel’s directors cut, depicts quite a bit of localized saturation that pops into play that creates stand out characters in tandem with their eccentric personalities.  There’s a meticulousness in the details that greatly heighten Malpertuis into a prison-like character, one that is personified holding the living, breathing characters into a stasis though they’re freedom to leave is unobstructed, the Lamplighter is a good example of this by appearing to be a near skin and bones, unkempt in appearances, and wailing in disquietude about Cassavius putting out the light, as if Cassavius himself was some sort of jailor and, in a way, he is.  No compression issue within the dim-lit black areas, the ruckus of various action, or any macroblocking during the decoding.  Though there is a language version somewhere in the world, Radiance Films supplies only the original Dutch ADR mono.  The post-production dialogue does have an asynchronous measure between picture and sound, especially between the non-native Dutch speakers, but the track is clear and prominent overtop a mysterious and unobtrusive Georges Delerue (“Platoon”) soundtrack, letting the actors and the action take the helm of the narrative with a low-toned menacing as well as hopeful score pieces that drive their curiosity and individual pecularities.  The diegetic dynamism denotes a defined design to be character driven rather than creating the immense suspense built by an edge of your score and omnipresent nondiegetic sounds.  The faultless and well-paced UK English subtitles are available and can be toggled.  Encoded special features include a 2006 audio commentary from director Harry Kümel and assistant director Françoise Levie, new interviews with Kümel and gothic horror writer Jonathan Rigby, an archival and behind-the scenes documentary on the making of the film with interviews Kümel, lead actor Mathieu Carriere, and director of photography Gerry Fisher, archival interviews with Kümel, Michael Bouquet, and Jean Ray with an archival featurette on Orson Wells and actress Susan Hampshire, Malpertuis Revisted takes audiences on location where the movie was shot with Kümel’s descriptions, the Cannes cut of the film, which is approx. 20 minute short than Kümel’s director’s cut and is viewable in the English and French language for selection, Kümel’s short film “The Warden of the Tomb,” and the trailer. Limited to 3000 copies, “Malpertuis’s” physical presence is palpable with a hard cardboard slipbox with Greek themed compositional artwork with a wraparound Obi strip denoting synopsis, bonus features, and technical aspects. Inside, a clear Blu-ray Amary comes primarily with a front and back still image cover given the artistic liberty treatment. The cover can be flipped from more traditional cover artwork, and all artwork provided is by Time Tomorrow. Heavier than the slipbox and the Amaray is the accompanying 78-page booklet with cast and crew acknowledgements, transfer notes and special thanks credits, and 2025 produced essays by Jonathan Owen, Willow Catelyn Maclay, Lucas Balbo, Maria J. Perez Cuervo, and David Flint. The region free release is region free and houses two runtimes with the main feature being the 125-minute producer cut and the Cannes cut, domiciling in the special features, clocking in at 100-minutes.

Last Rites: No one can top Radiance Films’ “Malpertuis” limited-edition Blu-ray set with its comprehensive insight into one of the more original adaptations surrounding Greek mythology, the harnessing and control of great, immense power, and the how that power is transposed and shaped into the human context where greed, sex, and love are the core contentions.

“Malpertuis” Now Available at Amazon!

EVIL’s Path to being a Psychopath. “The Beast to Die” reviewed! (Radiance Films / Limited Edition Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“The Beast to Die” on Limited Edition Blu-ray from Radiance Films!

Former war journalist, Kunihiko Date, stabs a veteran police investigator to death.  He then uses the detective’s revolver and guns down three, after hours casino employees in cold blood and steals the day’s earnings.  Date’s seemingly random acts of violence and theft from a respected war journalist and photographer are not just random acts but part of a methodical plan for an upcoming heist of a bank in Tokyo’s Nihonbashi district.  Casing the bank’s security, personnel, and layout, Date’s perfect plan has one hitch; Because of the bank’s size and bustling busines, he’ll need a little help.  By chance, he comes across Tetsuo Sanada at an annual school alumni dinner with his closest friends who have a violent run-in with Sanada as their antagonistic waiter.  Seeing the same potential disregard for life and disdain for existence conventions, Date approaches Sanada and mentors him under a nihilistic wing.  Now with a plan and an accomplice, Date’s violent holdup can move forward but to what end is the length of his sociopathic carnage. 

“The Beast to Die,” aka “野獣死すべし, Yajū shisubeshi,” is the intense and violent noir-thriller from Japan, directed by “Dead Angle’s” Tôru Murakawa and a script by Shoichi Maruyama (“The Triple Cross”).  The 1980 released feature would be Murakawa and Maruyama’s second feature length production together behind 1979’s “The Execution Game,” the second film of a trilogy known as “the Japanese Game Trilogy is a visceral yakuza tale of a kidnapped hitman unable to escape the criminal underworld. “The Beast to Die” is a step away from the Japanese gangster film; instead, focuses on the interpretation of war trauma, the cynical views of precious life, and has subtle presences of U.S. big brothering, asexual themes, and coarse, unforgiving violence at the highest level of sophisticated society.  Adapted from the Haruhiko Ôyabu novel of the same name, the written origin mirrors the vehemency of visual art with the film produced by Haruki Kadokawa (“Virus”) and “The Resurrection of the Golden Wolf’s” Mitsuru Kurosawa and Tatsurô Shigaki under the Toei Company and Kadokawa Haruki Jimusho.

Undoubtedly one of the best sociopathic performances of our lifetime, “Horror of the Wolf” and the Japanese Game trilogy’s Yûsaku Matsuda is a cool, awkward, and, if not, plotting cucumber amongst the masses of jovial and hustling Tokyo denizens.  There’s a serenity about Matsuda’s Kunihiko Date that’s unparalleled, represented by blank stares, a patient demeanor, and precise movements that come in stark contrast in the film opener where Date takes down four people in one night in a show of murderous inexperienced bravado.  Even in the thick of combative survivalism, there’s only objective goal in his sweat infused brow and focused eyes while others gesture and make an invitational show of his attack or of their pleas for mercy.  Date becoming lost in classical music is a formidable way of grounding himself, not only from the high of excitement and thrills of killing, but also a way to retain sanity in the notes, an aspect he quickly unravels from when not exposed to classic music for an extended period.   Oppositely, Tetsu Sanada is full of pent-up anger as if he’s constantly hitting his head on the wall aiming to break free of the surroundings that confine his wild tiger attitude, yet Takashi Kaga (“Isle of the Evil Spirits”) maintains a personal struggle lock on the full emergence of Sanada as Kunihiko’s equal.  This dichotomy between the anger and tranquility of two sociopaths is immensely palpable that leads to a purposeful instability in a number of areas – hesitation and certainly, the sweat-inducing fear and the cooled fearless, and, eventually, the relationship’s ultimate internal destruction.  Thrown into the Kunihiko and Sanada tango is a potential love interest in the puppy-eyed Asami Kobayashi (“Sixteen Years Old:  Nymphets’ Room”) and her shared classical music and tenderness connection with Kunihiko and a happenstance Detective, played with casual approach by Toshie Negishi (“The Rapacious Jailbreaker”), being in Kunihiko’s consciously aloof presence as a pressuring force that suspects something between something off with Kunihiko and the murder of his detective colleague. 

“The Beast to Die” explores various themes around the indirect damage of post-war trauma and living and feeling like an outsider of the what’s consider the normal societal collective, but there’s another avenue to look down when consider Murakawa’s villainous protagonists.  Kunikhiko Date may have been scarred by war, but his mind always had an inkling for bloodthirst, sated through the images of a photographic lens that captured the horrors of global conflict from military losses to the collateral damage.  Upon his return to Japan, Date had lost the exciting sensation of death that has exceled his rationality beyond being Godlike, able to take life without conscious due reproach.   Sanada, in a way, is similar in his radical viewpoints but Date finds him more talk than action, held behind the line he has yet to cross unlike Date’s journalistic meatgrinder and his self-drive to kill the detective and casino workers.  As far as vices go, neither men have an appetite for sex:  Kunikhiko  watches a sex worker masturbate with little interest and his connect with Reiko doesn’t go beyond the gazes into each other’s eyes and Sanada’s fortunate relationship with his girlfriend provides him with well-off opportunity in money, business, and romance but because she dapples in rendezvous with a U.S. sailor, Sanada finds himself engrossed with spite.  Both men become essentially sexually impotent with seeing red, in anger and in blood, replacing that primal need or ravenous appetite.  The last scene between the two men becomes a crucial turning point in their cruel comradery as the forceful sex act with an unconscious woman sends the other unravelling their partnership for good.  “The Beast to Die” is a cynically cold narrative without regard for human life in the traumatizing belief one can surpass the omnipotent Gods by ending the existence of others.

A compelling dark thriller relatable to contemporary trauma feeding mentally warped violence, “The Beast to Die” arrives onto a limited-edition Blu-ray from Radiance Films.  The UK label produces a Kadakawa Coprporation-created digital 4K restoration transfer from the original and pristine 35mm print.  AVC encoded onto a BD50 and presented with 1080p high-definition resolution in a 1.85:1 widescreen aspect ratio, this Stateside edition is the picture of health with a rich palate that’s stark with contrast.  Skin tones and textures, as well as fabrics, emerge into perspicuousness without missing or dropping a beat.  Negative spaces and shadows enshroud appropriate with the keyed lit dim levels.  The grain is pleasant, stable, and natural and there are no real issues with the print itself, withstanding the test of time.  The uncompressed Japanese PCM 2.0 Stere track offers a reasonably ample sound design and fidelity with post-production dialogue, foley, and ambience recordings that creates some mismatch and distancing space between the action and atmosphere audio and the character diegetic dialogue.  There are no rough patches to mention within the audio recordings, producing more than fine discernible quality to the technical threshold.  Japanese to English translator Hayley Scanlon provides newly translated English subtitles that are spotless in the Blu-ray’s world premiere with English subtitles.  Limited to 3000 units, Radiance offers exclusive special features, including new interviews with director Toru Murakawa, screenwriter Shoichi Maruyama, and a film critique and analysis from novelist and screenwriter Jordan Harper.  The newly commissioned artwork by TimeTomorrow revamps with a new look and layout on the classic, original poster art as the primary Amaray front cover with a reversible side housing an alternate rendition.  There are new and archival essays and archival in the limited edition booklet with 27-pages of color stills, a Tom Mes Yusaku Matsude:  Lost Rebel essay from 2004 showcasing the art and films of the lead actor, a new Tatsuo Masuto essay Shadow of the Beast, cast and crew acknowledgements, and transfer notes and Blu-ray release acknowledgements.  Encoded with a region A/B lock, Radiance Films release has a runtime of 119 minutes and is not rated.

Last Rites: Radiance Films’s limited edition run of “The Beast to Die” is immaculate in every aspect – filmically, technically, packaging – and is an important piece of Japanese culture and cinematic criterion.

“The Beast to Die” on Limited Edition Blu-ray from Radiance Films!

EVIL Manga to EVIL Movie! “Liverleaf” reviewed! (SRS Cinema / DVD)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“LIverleaf” Pushes Through the Bleak to Shine. On DVD Now!

The move from Tokyo to a dwindling rural town hasn’t been easy for middle schooler Haruka.  Most of her classmates have grown up with each other and formed vicious cliques that bully her relentless during and after school.  Mitsuru Abu, a photography enthusiast and Haruka’s classmate is also an outsider but has family ties to the area, is about her only friend and whom she finds attractive.  Upon returning home after spending the day together, Haruka finds her family home engulfed in flames, her mother and father dead, and her little sister severely burned over her entire body.  The loss of her family, her only emotional support, mentally compromises Haruka’s self-control and sends her spiraling into a revenge fueled murdering spree, targeting her bullying classmates who had a hand in the inferno of her family home.  The root of malevolence is not as it appears on the surface, and it will be up to Haruka to kill her way in finding the truth and reveal the secrets.

Adapted from the popular manga series, “Misu Misō,” written by Oshikiri Rensuke, the film version incorporates the indelicate dramas of being a school age teen in while reproducing faithfully the graphic gore, violence, and disturbing nature of character of the series in great detail.  Titled “Liverleaf,” as in the resilient, mountainous found three-lobe leafed flower that resembles the human liver and can withstand harsh winter conditions, is helmed by “Let’s Make the Teacher Have a Miscarriage Club” director Eisuke Naitô and penned by Miako Tadano of “The World of Kanako,” another manga-based film adaptation.  The 2018 film, which can be described as a revenge-drama with particle elements of horror, is shot in one of the snow-covered foothills of Japan’s mountain regions and is produced by Shigeto Arai (“We Are Little Zombies”) under the production banners of the Nikkatsu Corp. and the L’espace Film Co.

Anna Yamada is in the lead role that’s very familiar and culturally significant to Japanese cinema.  A scorn-born femme fatale that’s merciless and personnel, the kind of role that Quentin Tarantino exacted in his tribute to Asian revenge narrative with “Kill Bill,” starring Uma Thurman, hunting down the offending party and dispatching the scum from the Earth in a one-by-one fashion.  The “Suicide Forest Village” actress Yamada headlined “Liverleaf” as mid-to-late teen portraying the manga series’ preteen or early teenage girl Haruka Nozaki.  She isn’t the only nearly adult woman to play a teen in the throes of hormones, peer pressures, and angsty conditions sideswiped by wickedness and a taste for dominance as the whole student body pretends to be a youthful waste in a snowy, mountainside village on the verge of collapse.  Howling Village’s Rinka Ôtani, as Taeko Oguro, stands out with her bright orange hair and a sense of indifferent authority being the supposed head of the gaggle of bullying girls.  “Liverleaf” is Ôtani debut picture and Ôtani would eventually reteam with Yamada on “Suicide Forest Village,” but their first dichotomized performance as protagonist and antagonists brings a palpable tension to the screen.  Throw a boy both girls stoically can’t admit with a lot of expression and that pressure pot grows into an ugly shape of jealousy spurred love triangle.  Mitsuru Aibe is tall, handsome, kind, and a photography buff always looking for the raw and beautiful moment to capture on film.  Played by Hiroya Shimizu, “The World of Kanako” and “Sadako” actor instills that hope for the future and a glance of stability amongst the opposing craziness that has ensued between the rebirthed revenger Nozaki and the horrible highschoolers now fearing for their lives because of their responsible part for the monster they’ve created but does he really provide a safer, greener pasture Nozaki needs to return to once her retribution is complete?  Kenshin Endô, Masato Endô, Reiko Kataoka, Seina Nakata, Arisa Sakura, Aki Moita, Minoir Terada, Kazuki Ôtomo, and ReRena Ôtsuka are cast in one messed up and depressive high school student body that ends in a blizzard of bloodshed.

One thing about “Liverleaf,” if looking at and considering all the components of the feature as a whole, to take away from the adaptation is how Eisuke Naitô facsimiles the plot points of a manga series or, in more general terms, Naitô” has plucked the rudimentary concepts straight from any regular extreme manga series, not just from Oshikiri Rensuke’s Misu Misō.  Yet, “Misu Misō” is very faithfully extracted from the illustrated pages for live action execution down to many of the details with very few changes to the story’s original design. Gore has an extreme graphic nature juxtaposed against the snow, contrasting in homage to those historical revenge genre films set in the same harsh, white blanket, and like all the heroines, or anti-heroines, Haruka Nozaki speaks her soul in her outfit, dressed in a continuously deepening red after each gruesome dispatch of her classmates.  This saturation into crimson extends into this belief that Nozaki is bordering being supernatural, like most condemned women done wrong, who somehow find the superhuman strength, endurance, know-how, and resilience in their own disdain for blood and violence to slay beyond their normal means without batting an eyelash.  “Liverleaf” is not the chippiest of narratives with a coursing core of grim doom and gloom through a quickly dilapidating little town with an austere school, junk pits, and modest structures that inhabit indifferent teachers, brooding teens, and a mental illness that ranges from inherent sociopathy to social sociopathy of peer pressures and bullying. 

SRS Cinema brings manga pen and paper to the big screen with their unrated DVD release of the film adaptation titled “Liverleaf.”  The MPEG2 encoded, upscaled 1080p, DVD9 release is presented in a 1.78:1 aspect ratio.  “Liverleaf” stands out unusual from the other SRS releases, a company that prides itself on standard definition 480 and 720 resolutions and compressing features and their special features onto a packed DVD5 that creates eye artefacts on already low budget, commercial grade, inexperienced film.  Instead, “Liverleaf” has punchier colors and distinction on that segregates the austere from the vibrancy and the extra space helps allow for this decoding to be as smooth as possible on what some may now consider an antiquated format.  Decoding at a higher range of 7-9Mbps, compression imprudence doesn’t show itself here with a clean picture that retians inky voids, charted snow mounds and footprints in a white sheet of snow, and the colors and details on objects that natural enlarge themselves when in contrast, such as Nozaki’s red jacket or the red, orange, and yellow glow of house flames against the night sky.  The Japanese LPCM 2.0 stereo renders a clean mix of dialogue, ambience, and soundtrack.  Dialogue’s clean, crisp, and clearly upfront of a subdued diegetic sound mixed from the boom mic or from post and a Hisashi Arita soundtrack that scores Japanese revenge in non-traditional Japanese notes.  Post mix and action does create some separation that uncouples the visual onomatopoeia of the activity but remains negligible throughout.  The burned-in English subtitles synch well and are error-free.  Extras include a featurette from Manga to Movie that goes into the history of manga and the adaptation concept which most thought the film couldn’t be adapted, Elijah Thomas supplements with his own thoughts and opinions on “Liverleaf” as well as another featurette titled Liverleaf’s Obsession that looks at the character’s dangerous obsessive qualities, the trailer, a Oshikiri Rensuke, biography The Comically Twisted Mind of Oshikiri Rensuke with narrator voiceover going into the writer’s family history and “Misu Misō” genesis, the trailer, and talent files on Anna Yamada, Eisuke Naito, Hiroya Shimizu, Miako Tadano, and Rinka Otani.  These features house behind a static menu, that only has a play option alongside the extras, with a neat art illustration of a murderously ominous Naruka Nozaki.  The cover art hints at the film’s stark contrast aesthetics with a Naruka Nozaki wrapped her red coat and jetblack hair sprawled out on the white snow.  The Amaray does not come with a reversible cover nor any tangible extras inside.  DVD has region A only playback and has a runtime of 114 minutes. 

Last Rites: “Liverleaf” is a surprising, better-than-no budget teen revenge thriller that deals with obsession, depression, and a consternation that Haruka’s tragic journey through the pits of a lowly high school hierarchy will only get worse before it gets better.

“LIverleaf” Pushes Through the Bleak to Shine. On DVD Now!

The Death of a Daughter Leads Down to a Psychological Path of EVIL! “The Haunting of Julia” reviewed! (Imprint / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Limited Edition of “The Haunting of Julia” Available at Amazon.com!

This morning was like any other as the Julia rustles up breakfast for her all-business husband Magnus and their lively vivacious daughter Kate, but when Kate violent chokes on a piece of apple and Julie performs a bloody, untried tracheotomy in a state of panic in order to save her daughter’s life, their lives are forever changed as Katie dies in Julia’s arms. For weeks, Julia’s melancholic depression commits her to hospital care. When she’s ready for release per the Doctor’s recommendation, Julia avoids returning to Magnus as their relationship was never a mutually loving one but rather a normal route connected by the presence of their daughter Kate. In order to restart her life, Julia separates from a controlling Magnus and purchases a magnificent London house only to then be plagued by ghostly occurrences she suspects is the work of her late daughter. What Julia comes to find out is the troubling history of her newfound home.

Mia Farrow solidified herself as a genre actress by starring in the archetype for films revolving around the prince of darkness, Satan, in 1968 with “Rosemary’s Baby.”  Unlikely seeing herself as a prominent woman of a notable rite horror, Farrow quickly understood her value in the genre as a complex female lead in the unsettling and gothic protuberance atmosphere style.  Nearly a decade later, Farrow stars in the Richard Loncraine directed “The Haunting of Julia,” similar only to the menacing supernatural child component but digs deeper in manipulative complacency, psychological guilt, and of that distorted reality created by the stout motherhood connection.  The “Slade of Flame” director set his sights off of Rock’N’Roll inspired dramas around the ugliness of the music industry and onto the filmic adaptation of the Peter Straub novel “Julia,” penned by the Dave Humphries and “Xtro” trilogy director Harry Bromley Davenport.  The joint United Kingdom and Canadian production, titled originally as “Full Circle” in the UK, is produced by Peter Fetterman (“The Exorcism of Hugh”), under Fetterman Productions, and Alfred Pariser (“Shivers”) of the Canadian Film Development Corporation. 

Mia Farrow’s distinct reactions and acting style very much engulfs the majority of horror experienced in “The Haunting of Julia,” as well as exhibited in “Rosemary’s Baby.”  The glassy eyed, long stares, the frightened, coiled emotions that swirl seemingly out of control, and the switch-gear ability to be strong and compliant in tense-riddled situations that just only involve herself in the scene.  While “Rosemary’s Baby’ and “The Haunting of Julia” may exact the same gothic aperture for child-themed horror and both are adapted literary works, “The Haunting of Julia” unfolds not in the anticipating of child birth but rather postmortem with the aftermath affliction of a child’s sudden and terrible demise that occurred in the frantic mother’s misguided embrace to take a knife right to her child’s jugular in hopes of dislodging an air denying obstruction.  This opening scene shocks us right into a grim framework that simultaneously divides trust and empathy for Julia as circumstances unveil what we might suspect all along, that Julia’s mental health suffered immensely.  What pushes Julia into undue stress is her controlling, dispassionate husband Magnus. Played by “Black Christmas’s” Keir Dullea.  Dullea pulls off the unsympathetic impassive father who just lost a child and can’t see the underlying psychological unrest his wife suffers.  In short, Magnus attempts to gatekeep Julia’s damaged psyche by trying to strong arm her back into normalcy, even going as far as manipulating Julia and his own sister Lily (Jill Bennett, “The Skull”) into slipping his foot into the door with a wife who fled from his grasp as soon as released from the hospital for essentially shutting down after their daughter’s death.  That toxic pressure is coupled with the seemingly unnatural incidences in her new home that clash her old life, chained to an unconsciously broken family, with her new life that seeks to decompress from a pair of diverse traumas.  “The Haunting of Julia” rounds out the cast with Tom Conti (“Blind Revenge”), Mary Morris (“Prison Without Bars”), Anna Wing (“Xtro”), Pauline Jameson (“Night Watch”), Peter Sallis (“Frankenstein:  The True Story”), Susan Porrett (“Plunkett & Macleane), Edward Hardwicke (“Venom”), and Sophie Ward (“Book of Blood”).

More or less forgotten by U.S. audiences due to no fault of the film’s own acclamatory measure or the audiences willing participation, the international produced “The Haunting of Julia” wasn’t publicized in the U.S. despite the two American leads – Mia Farrow and Keir Dullea.  Richard Loncraine’s film has incredible merit to the idea of a mother’s loss within the construct of gothic horror, which, in another aspect of unfathomable irony, resembled more closely to the American gothic style of the supernatural sequestered dark house.  Yet, this house is in London, wedged in like row homes, but as mentioned numerous times in the film, the house has distinction and grandeur that overlooks the buried ghostly history of the previous owners.  Julia absorbs the stories, filters through them, and comes to believe her own daughter is either trying to reach out to her or is hellbent on revenge for the amateur hour tracheotomy.  Loncraine does the phenomenal job of shocking our core with the early choking death scene of Julia’s daughter but once that dust settles, the pacing becomes more rhythmic to the point of building, slowly, Julia’s encounters with unknown forces that, at first, are just seemingly bizarre happenstances of left on bedroom plug-in radiators and playground visions of a girl that resembles her daughter cutting up another kid’s pet turtle.  These events play into their evident conspicuousness to push audiences deep into Julia’s mysterious milieu, officially sealing something isn’t right with the clairvoyant Ms. Flood’s scarred-screaming vision of a bloody child.  Julie become engrossed into learning the truth, eager to determine if that child is her late daughter and is fed tidbits of the house’s history that not only continues her own investigation but other research into other house tragedies that fork-split her presumptions.  As all this noise tornadoes around Julia, the stories, the occurrences, the deaths, viewers will never deduce to a reason closer to home, to Julia herself, until possibly too late at the end with a grisly open-ended finale that what Julia has been experience may have been done at her own forlorn hand. 

Atmospherically sound, undoubtedly creepy, and spearheaded by strong performances, “The Haunting of Julia” is the unspoken heroine of late 1970s supernatural horror – until now.  Imprint and Via Vision of Australia release a limited edition, high definition 1080p, 2-disc Blu-ray set with an AVC encoded BD50 of a new 4K scan transfer of the original 35mm negative. Presented in an anamorphic widescreen 2.35:1, the 4K scan is super sharp with virtually no compression issues on the formatted storage. Blacks, and negative spaces in general, are rich and void, despite Peter Hannan’s low-contrast and hazy surreal veneer that definitely plays into a psychotronic dreaminess. The resolution goes unaltered, and the natural grain maintains the original theatrical presentation for a revered 4k transfer. The English LPCM 2.0 mono track mix audibly delineates a viable one input split to make the dialogue and all other tracks comprehendible. Despite some slight here and there hissing, dialogue is amped up nicely for better resolved results that still remains mingled with the ambience in an all for one, one for all audio format. “Space Trucker’s” Colin Towns’s insidious and distinctly composed soundtrack reaches into the recesses of soul and strikes at the very nerve of fear with an unsettling score, perfectly suited for a mother drowning in the pitfalls of a supernatural sanctum. Optional English Hard-of-Hearing subtitles are available. The first disc special features include two audio commentaries – one with director Richard Loncraine and Simon Fitzjohn and the second, brand new, commentary with authors Jonathan Rigby and Kevin Lyons, new interviews with composer Colin Towns Breaking the Circle, cinematographer Peter Hannan Framing the Circle, and Hugh Harlow Joining the Circle, a new video essay by film historian Kat Ellinger Motherhood & Madness: Mia Farrow and the Female Gothic, the original trailer, and an option to play the film with either “The Haunting of Julia” or “Full Circle” opening title. The second disc is a compact disc of Colin Town’s 11-track score featuring 20 minutes of previously unheard music out of 60:52 of music. The limited-edition set comes with a neat lenticular cover on front of the hard box of what we assume is Julia’s ghost glaring at you from all angles as her eyes follow you. Inside is a clear Blu-ray snapper that’s a little thicker than your traditional snapper and comes with a built-in secondary disc holder. The cover art is simply Mia Farrow cowering outside the bathroom door but the reversible cover displays an original “Full Circle” poster as the front image. The disc arts are illustrative and compositions with the feature presentation disc the same as hard box lenticular without it being lenticular and CD pressed with Mia Farrow’s face in the background and a child’s cymbal banging toy in the foreground. Also in the hard box is a 44-page booklet feature an historical background essay by critic/writer Sean Hogan that has black and white and color photos and various poster art. The film, which comes in as Imprint catalogue # 218, runs at 97 minutes, is unrated, and, is assumed, for region A playback as it’s an Australian release – there is no indication on the package. “The Haunting of Julia” is Mia Farrow’s shining, yet lost effort post Roman Polanksi and is a remarkable look at subtle disconnection from extreme guilt when in every corner, every sign, is thought to be about your lost child.

Limited Edition of “The Haunting of Julia” Available at Amazon.com!