EVIL Just Wants Their Heads Back! “The House of Lost Souls” reviewed! (Cauldron Films / Standard Edition Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Don’t Lose Your Head in “The House of Lost Souls” on Blu-ray!

A group of geological fossil hunters spend their time researching in what is supposed to be the ideal climate of the Italian mountains but inclement, rainy weather has produced all kinds of inconvenient havoc and challenges that have slowed down their darting research.  Mudslides caused by the constant rain makes mountain roads impassable.  They encounter such a mudslide impasse on the way to their next research grounds and do an emergency detour to a remote, vacant hotel to spend the night out of the cold damp night.  Greeted without a single word from their unusual host, they’re given room keys get some rest before the next day’s hike up the cleared mountain road, resuming course toward the fossil hunt, but the geologists quickly discover something isn’t right with the hotel that has a dark history.  Trapped inside the abandoned hotel, murderous spirits appear and aggressively seek more souls to fill the hotel’s vacancy.

The fourth and final entry in The Houses of Doom series produced from Italian television in 1989, “The House of Lost Souls” is the second Umberto Lenzi (“Nightmare City,” “Ghosthouse”) film of the Lucio Fucli and Lenzi stint from the coproduction of Dania Film and Reteitalia with producers Massimo Manasee and Marco Grillo Spina, behind Lenzi’s “The House of Witchcraft” and Fucli’s “The House of Clocks” and “The Sweet House of Horrors.”  Lenzi also created the story concept and wrote the script that feels like a blend of the American-produced, supernatural thrillers “House on Haunted Hill” and “13 Ghosts” but with more bloodshed, color encoded and has that Italian violence flair too graphic for public television.  Italian-titled “La casa delle anime errant,” the film is also a production of the National Cinematografica that produced other Italian Umberto Lenzi cult classics “Seven Bloodstained Orchids,” “Eaten Alive,” and “Cannibal Ferox.” 

Trapped inside the gruesome lore of the hotel’s deadly history and as the focus of the overall dilemma is the group of geology students and friends, plus one adolescent boy tagging along with his older brother.  Further more concentrated on inside the group is Carla who’s been diagnosed, yes – medically identified, as having clairvoyancy with her psychic nightmare visions, sporadic and jumbled frightening images that yet don’t make sense, but guess what?  To no surprise, they will soon! Stefania Orsola Garello, who went on to have a role in the Antoine Fuqua’s period epic “King Arthur,” played the third eye sensorial Carla investigating the hotel’s sordid past along with quasi-boyfriend Kevin, donned by “The Slumber Party Massacre” American actor Joseph Alan Johnson.  Johnson is the extent of international casting, unless you count the hotel host, or rather head ghost who we’ll touch upon later, and the distinct facial features and the significant height of Japan-born Hal Yamanouchi (“2019:  After the Fall of New York,” “The Wolverine”) as a zombified Hare Krishna ghost, one of his many Italian roles while residing within the country since mid-1970s.  The remaining fill out with Garello countrymen counterparts with Matteo Gazzolo (“Specters”) as the group leader, Constantino Melon (“Who Killed Pasolin?”i as the leader’s little brother Giancarlo, and young lovers Guido and Mary, played by Gianluigi Fogacci and Laurentina Guidotti (“Dark Glasses”), as the victimized geologists being hunted down and tricked into slaughter by, too, victims of a hotel proprietor madman, the key perpetrator to all this madness but reduced to only a reflected role through Carla’s flashbacks.  Aside from Yamanochi, there are a handful of former guests and voiceless ghosts, some stuck in a bloodied stasis at the time of their death, some pristine as if nothing happened at all, haunting and hunting down the warm bodies, including Scottish actor Charles Borromel (“Absurd”), Marina Reiner, Dino Jaksic (“Little Flames”), and Beni Cardoso (“Barbed Wire Dolls”).

A different ghost house picture than Lucio Fulci’s “The Sweet House of Horrors’ but still contributes the same inhuman intensity of one person (or one ghost person) can against another person.  Yet, for Umberto Lenzi, his story thrives through the house’s, or rather hotel’s, ability to dispatch the innocent with household items.  Decapitating dumbbell waiters, a cabinet with a ripping chainsaw blade, a head-eating washing machine, and almost even a walk-in freezer become the tools of fatal terror.  Lenzi depicts little in the way of person-on-person violence with only implied deaths at the hands of another person; instead, the personification of ghost house miscellany is definitely more exciting, very unexpected, and a lot of fun to watch the hapless have their heads fall prey to household items that are supposed to be helpful, not hurtful.  Perhaps, Lenzi’s intentions were to explore the negative dependency of gadgets or appliances and how easily we’re allured by their safe nature marketing and profound assistance to our daily lives that it makes us easy targets with our guard down.  Lenzi also doesn’t believe in nepotism when casting young actors as the two child characters become fair game for the house’s thirst for slaughtered souls, dooming them with an equal risk to a brutal death.  The storied hotel’s notoriety serves as the vessel that drives ghosts to go berserk but the story’s miss is bringing back to the killer hotel owner who chopped the heads off of his guests to rob them, stowing them away to hide his transgressions, only for them to be the root of the ghosts’ reason for revenge against any and all who trespass through the lobby.  As the origin of the ordeal, the omitted owner serves as just flashback fodder that fuels the floor-by-floor fiends. 

Spiders, skeletons, and severed heads make up, but are not limited to, Umbero Lenzi’s “The House of Lost Souls” now on Blu-ray as the last The Houses of Doom release from Cauldron Films.  Presented in the European widescreen aspect ratio 1.66:1, the new 2K scan was restored and released uncut from the original film negative, inviting a clean and beautifully vibrant pictures for a dark, haunted hotel feature.  However, like with many Lenzi pictures of the time, the final product has softer image detail that’s brilliant for producing color but relaxes the stringent textures to a still better than mild palpability that’s more than enough beyond the bar of image quality.  There are no compression anomalies to speak of as Cauldron Films, again, produces an excellent high-definition encoding, much like with the other three Houses of Doom installments.  Audio setup includes an encoded English and Italian 2.0 mono with optional English subtitles for the English track and forced English subtitles on the Italian.  The ADR hits and misses the mark with vocal ranges seemingly too mismatch with the actors, such as with Massimo who looks like a tenor but has a bass voice, or the boy Giancarlo with an unsettling falsetto and you can lipread those who are actually speaking English compared to those who are not native English speakers.  The overall track has no compression issues with a powerful dialogue projection and an adequate ambience that hits every keynote to bring the composition together.  “Demons” and “Tenebrae” composer Claudio Simonetti produces a charming little synch rock trap-threat and of a score that becomes essential to “The House of Lost Souls” snare and stalk of the geologists caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Special features include Cauldron Films’ exclusive interviews with FX artist Elio Terribili Working with Umberto and composer Claudio Simonetti The House of Rock along with two audio commentaries, one with Samm Deighan and the second with Rod Barnett and Adrian Smith, and bringing up the rear is a 2001 interview with Lenzi going through points in his lustrous independent career of exploitation, poliziotteschi, and giallo contributions to Italian cinema in The Criminal Cinema of Umberto Lenzi.  The not rated, region free Cauldron Films standard Blu-ray release, encased in a clear Scanova Blu-ray case with original Matthew Therrien and Eric Lee illustration cover art and logo design, has a runtime of 87 minutes.

Last Rites: That’s a wrap on the fourth and last film on The Houses of Doom collection from Cauldron Films and it’s a beauty scanned onto a new high-definition transfer that brings doomed television features back to life, to live again, to breathe its hot breath of death all over a new generation of viewer unfamiliar to Lucio Fulci, Umberto Lenzi, and even Italian horror!

Don’t Lose Your Head in “The House of Lost Souls” on Blu-ray!

The Empire of EVIL Reduced to Prostitution, Corruption, and a Wasteland. “Gate of Flesh” reviewed! (88 Films / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

88 Films’ “Gate of Flesh” Now Available in the U.S.!

The American occupation of Japan post-World War II was the result of not only the Iwo Jima atomic bomb but also the relentless destruction of carpet-bombing Tokyo.  Left in near ruins and swarming with the presence of American soldiers, the Japanese people have disseminated into gangs and territories for financial gains and power.  For Kanto Komasa, she and her gang of highly motivated women prostitute themselves for sex-starved American soldiers to accure money for Paradise, the future name of their bomb-ruined, leftover-skeletal building structure revamped into an elegant dance hall where they run the show.  When a rival male gang threatens their business, another all-woman gang challenges them, an inducted outsider betrays them, and a bloodied stranger is found inside their bombed out homebase, all with the Americans military police continuously rounding up prostitutes nightly, Komasa and her gang must walk the paved road through Hell to scratch and claw toward Paradise, even if that means going against their set principles.

Since the end of the World War II Pacific campaign, Japanese novelist Taijirô Tamura’s “Gate of Flesh” has been filmically adapted a handful of times just after the war in 1947.  In 1948, directors Masahir Makino and Ozaki Masafusa first adapted the novel, followed by the Seijun Suzuki version in 1964 and Shōgorō Nishimura’s adaptation in 1977.  In this review, Hideo Gosha’s “Gate of Flesh,” also known as “Carmen 1945,” moves from samurai period actioners, such as “Sword of the Beast,” “Three Outlaw Samurai,” and “Samurai Wolf,” and into a yakuza era of storytelling that came on strong in the 1980s.  “Gate of Flesh” is no different with plenty of yakuza tropes without actually affirming the term in the dialogue.  Gosha’s tale provides more glamour, style, and substance, especially around themes of inner turmoil under outsider control and the divine praise for an enemy-built weapon of destruction, from a screenplay by prolific writer Kazuo Kasahara of “Hiroshima Death Machine” and “Yakuza Graveyard.”  The Toei Company production is produced by Shigeru Okada (“Inferno of Torture”).

“Gate of Flesh” has the interweaving stories of an ensemble with the various faceted chess piece pawns aimed to promote themselves, by cutthroat and sordid means, to a higher degree of social status and wealth improvement like queens and kings within a crummy economical and degraded societal Tokyo commune of prostitution, gambling, and survival.  There are also a few other pieces stealthier knighted behind enemy lines with more noble goals in mind.  While different storylines unfold and merge, Kanto Komasa becomes the generally sensed centerpiece, played by Rino Katase of previously directed Gosha films, “Yakuza Ladies” and “Tokyo Bordello.”  Her preparedness to take on the “Gate of Flesh” role as the female-led gang leader promising Paradise has been success before of her previous performances in Gosha’s films that contain similar traits but Katase delivers a powerhouse, immensely conflicted, act as Komasa’s hopes and dreams to dig herself out of poverty and into high-class are thwarted by deceptive ranks, a haunting past, and, of course, the more present occupation troubles of inner city gang-on-gang wardom, battling advances, negotiates, and the potential for mediation between fellow gang leaders Yoshio Hakamada (Jinpachi Nezu, “Ran”), who wants her building that’ll be lucrative in the future, and Rakucho no Osumi (Yūko Natori, “Stranger”).  Of course, there’s more to bereft Komasa’s mind with the sudden wounded appearance and peculiarity familiarity of stranger Shintaro Ibuki (Tsunehiko Watase, “The Rapacious Jailbreaker”) who has protective parallelism with the 2-ton bomb that also acts as a rival gang repellant and an explosive safety net for Komasa.  Secondary characters provide a layered depth to Hideo Gosha’s charismatic and gender-battling narrative with Miyuki Kanō, Yūko Natori, Senri Yamazaki, Shinsuke Ashida, Naomi Hase, Chie Matsuoka, and Yoshimi Ashikawa.

Surreal like a dystopian science-fiction and wasteland thriller, “Gate of Flesh” has that otherworldly, alternate reality appeal accentuated by Hideo Gosha’s colorfully grim realism that doesn’t convey truth or fact.  In fact, “Gate of Flesh” is very much rooted in reality, truth, and fact in regard to U.S. occupation of Japan after the country’s surrender between 1945 and 1952.  This drops a non-fictionalized period as “Gate of Flesh’s” backlot, corroded by the illicit prostitution that spread to satisfy and bank off allied forces.  Gosha’s film is a game of wits amongst crooks and connivers while the developing sympathy envelopes around the seemingly tough of nails Kanto Kamase with a violin-pining and sympathetic backstory colliding with the injured Colt Shin aka Shintaro Ibuki.  Ibuki himself has history, or perhaps even beef history, with the iron rule of Hakamada, but through thick and thin, Ibuki’s clearly maneuvering the chess board around protecting Kamase for clued in reasons only to be precisely unveiled near the end.  The American presence doesn’t even feel weighty, reduced to hooker johns, voiceless military police, and a one uncouthly boisterous and unpleasant Sergeant to become the poster boy from Japan’s perspective of the occupational paradigm. Other than that, the U.S. forces are background noise, a sidestepped component of a much bigger, domestic ordeal amongst the Japanese people but are still the cause of so much heartache, gangsterism, and civil war.  Sex is also a huge theme as strictly a monetary activity rather than a joyful expression of romance and liberating relief from oppression, which there is none from U.S. forces.  Kazuo Kasahara’s script skirts around the inkling of affection between two people as much of everything else is for ostentatious and desperation means in a time when there was not much else to hold onto in Tokyo after suffering defeat, aside from ruined property, cash for hope, and tattoos to honor the past. 

88 Films proudly presents “Gate of Flesh” from their UK catalogue to their quickly growing US list of titles.  The AVC encoded, 1080p high-definition, BD50 is the first home video release for the rest of the world outside of Japan with a limited-edition release, presented in the original aspect ratio of 1.85:1 widescreen.  Hideo Gosha’s style brilliance flourishes with this impeccably detailed and graded release that pedestals a rich and sustaining color palette.  The stabilization of color extends to the details as textures pop from the screen, especially in Kamase’s gang where each one has a distinct color flair and different pattern design to have them stand out amongst each other in a story that’s greatly character-individualized aware and often tangents into side characters to be worked into the parent plot.  No compression issues to note, day and night transitions have equal clarity and depth, and the Gosha and Yuko Morita’s aesthetic brings the stylistic aspects to the forefront without taking away from the schemes of skin tones and milieu details in the set design of a tumbledown Tokyo.  The Japanese LPCM 2.0 Mono mix diffuses perfectly into the single channel fold and aligns well with the picture, casting synchronous UK English optional subtitles that only had a single misspelling that I had caught.  “Gate of Flesh” has plenty of range and depth captured precisely on this 88 Films release that doesn’t show signs of audio layer wear or any compression issues.  The summiting explosion capitalizes the full potential of the mix with a story grand exit designed to be immersive as possible in its limited capacity through an assistant of visual means.  The special features include an audio commentary by film critics and analysts Amber T and Jasper Sharp, critic Earl Jackson provides an introduction on the many adaptations of Taijiro Tamura’s “Gate of Flesh” with timelines, history, and his own preference accompanied by stills, posters, and video clips, an exclusive interview with tattoo artist Seiji Mouri Flesh & Blood Tattoos who doesn’t view the Gosha’s work as a yakuza-spiced, and rounds out the content with a still gallery and a pair of trailers.  The limited-edition and numbered set, that includes an Obi strip over top a commissioned illustrative composition covert art by Ilan Sheady and housed in a clear Scanova case, contains a 23-page booklet with color photos and posters and essay notes by Robin Gatto and Irene González-López.  The cover art has a reversible side with the original Japanese poster.  Only playable in region A and B, the not rated 88 Films disc comes not rated and with a 119 runtime.

Last Rites: “Gate of Flesh” bears the weight of Taijiro Tamura’s prostitution-laden tale of survival, revenge, and hope with Hideo Gosha’s cinematic eye that captures the beauty and indomitability in the badlands of the occupied proud.

88 Films’ “Gate of Flesh” Now Available in the U.S.!

EVIL’s Brew Just Needs a Severed Head! “The House of Witchcraft” reviewed! (Cauldron Films / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“The House of Witchcraft,” a part of The Houses oof Doom series, Now on Blu-ray!

Luca Palmer has experienced the same reoccurring nightmare for months of him finding shelter from being chased inside a large countryside house with an ugly hag boiling his severed head in a large cauldron.  The dreams have required him to find professional help in a psychiatric ward but without any real mental or physical health concerns, he’s released to his incompatible, witchcraft practicing wife Martha who sets up a country house getaway in a last ditch effort to save their dwindling marriage.  When they pull up to the house, Luca immediately recognizes it from his nightmares.  From then on Luca believe he’s seeing the malicious old woman from his dreams around on the estate grounds and urges his psychiatrist, who is also his late brother’s wife, to visit him to assess his state of mind, but the visions keep coming and those around him keep dying a horrible death with his wife being the key suspect of witchcraft related deaths.

“La casa del sortilegio,” aka “The House of Witchcraft” is a made-for-television, witch-centric movie for the four-film series The Houses of Doom concept created under the companies of Dania Films and Reteitalia’s producing team Massimo Manasse and Marco Grillo Spina.  The 1989 witchy-slasher hybrid and the third film of the series is helmed by another notable Italian schlock and shock director, Umberto Lenzi (“Seven Blood-Stained Orchids,” Cannibal Ferox”), as well as Lenzi writing the script from the story of The Houses of Doom envisaging duo Gianfranco Clerici and Daniele Stroppa.  “The House of Witchcraft” speaks the very essence of what to expect in a traditional sense regarding witches while really stepping up with Italian nastiness inside the slasher principles, filmed in the heart of Italy in the popular Chianti wine municipality of Rufina where the landscape is lined with vineyards, churches, and castles.

Luca Palmer is committed to his mental health by committing himself to his sister-in-law’s psychiatric hospital after months of nightmares involving a witch and his severed head as the main ingredient for her boiling stew.  Perhaps, because of his rocky relationship with wife Martha, played by French actress Sonia Petrovna (“Flashing Lights”), Luca just needed a break from her witchcraft obsession and loveless aloofness to clear his head.  Either way, the American-born and ‘Naked Rage” actor Andy J. Forest is one of Umberto Lenzi’s go-to action stars, of such Lenzi’s war films “Bridge to Hell” and “The Kiss of the Cobra”, whose taken off the film battlefield and positioned as the confounded centerpiece of a cackling witch tale, completing his task as a the tall, handsome, and flawed hero of a man haunted and driven by unpleasant night terrors of the long face, broad features of the fittingly named Maria Cumani Qausimodo as the dolled-down witch.  Quasimodo is no stranger to the filth and frights of Italian schlock with roles in “Behind Convent Walls,” “Five Women for the Killer,” and even the notoriously porn augmented “Caligula” and her physical traits, long stare of blue eyes, and pandering of character’s wickedness transform her into an ideal archetype of the original folk-acholic Brewmeisters.  Characters for the slaughter tin this supernatural slasher and to be intertwined into the suspect and innocent pool are played by Paul Muller (“Lady Frankenstein”), as the sixth sense blind homeowner Andrew Mason, Marina Giulia Cavalli (“Alien from the Deep”) as Andrew’s visiting niece Sharon, Susanna Martinkova (“Fracchia Vs. Dracula”) as the psychiatrist sister-in-law Dr. Elsa Palmer, and Maria Stella Musy as the doctor’s daughter Debra tagging along with her mother to visit the barely mentally managing Luca. 

Umberto Lenzi’s rollercoaster career has seen its fair share of misses overtop what are today considered trashy, cult triumphs that lure fans to seek out his even lesser known, poorly critiqued titles more often than required for any more than the casual horror moviegoer. However, “The House of Witchcraft” is not one of those latter, threadbare produced pictures as Lenzi instills more aesthetic style and cinematic substance of searing phantasmic enthrall and danger with an unwavering villainess vile down to her very rotten teeth and scraggly, gray hair.  Offing houseguests left and right is the witch’s supernatural birthright but why exactly Luca Palmer, a stressed out journalist, to be the target of precognitive events is more opaque than it is clairvoyantly evident but we get some great malevolent manipulation and sleight of hand with black cat familiars, bulgy maggot-infested corpses, unusual indoor freezing precipitation, severed heads, and a face transfiguration that’s pretty damn good that has no right to be in a Lenzi film, mostly in part to special f/x and makeup artist Giuseppe Ferranti (“Anthropophagus,” “Nightmare City’), his favorable, collaborative relationship with Lenzi, and the fact he’s locked into the 4-part film series The Houses of Doom provides him creative freedom, flexibility, and fluctuation in diversity.  “The House of Witchcraft” is not the one-all, be-all witch story but does scratch that warty itch in the foulest of cloak-wearing evils without flying a broomstick! 

The second of four Blu-rays for The Houses of Doom lineup produced by Cauldron Films, “The House of Witchcraft” is an AVC encoded, 1080p high-definition, BD50 with a transfer scanned into 2K, uncut and restored, from the original film negative.  Very similar to Lucio Fulci’s “The House of Clocks,” Cauldron Films scan is quite impeccable.  A pristine picture with no wear or tear and age deterioration, “The House of Witchcraft” is deep and rich with immense coloring timing efforts, defining an authentic look without overcorrecting to a fault.  There’s no perfunctory enhancing or extreme variability with contrasting, retaining a smooth, consistent picture quality throughout its European aspect 1.66:1 presentation.  Even in the more stylistic lighting work that creates clear tone of how the indoor snow should feel cold or the lightning strikes and wind brings a chill of ominous doom, there’s plenty of delineation to provide space and demarcations of depth between objects.  There are two DTS-HD 2.0 mono mixes with an ADR Italian and an ADR English dialogue.  Synchronously smooth, a noticeable dialogue separation between audio and video is not easily perceptible, which is kudos to the post work on the post-crew efforts, and Cauldron’s mixes have clarity without a fault in the compression means.  The two channel funneling of the mono output separates the dialogue and ambience/score.  Backing of the boiling cauldron stew or the knife swipes that severe heads and stab fleshy trunks, leaving impacting thuds and thwacks, are good examples of the conveyed foley audio that leaves a lasting impression through component construction in the audio design.  There are optional English subtitles on both language tracks.  Special features include Cauldron Films’ produced interviews with FX artist Elio Terribili Artisan of Mayhem, cinematographer Nino Celeste The House of Professionals, and a commentary track with Eugenio Erolani, Nathaniel Thompson, and Troy Howarth.  Also like “The House of Clocks” release, Matthew Therrien and Eric Lee compose a composition of illustrative graphic artistry of film’s decomposing and maniacally laughing madness and logo design for The Houses of Doom series on the front cover inside the clear Scanavo case.  Reverse cover has a still image of the black cat and the disc is pressed with the same front cover artwork but cropped to focus primarily of the witch with title and company logos at the bottom half.  The region free release has a runtime of 89 minutes.

Last Rites: Umberto Lenzi’s “The House of Witchcraft” casts a spell over the hex canon, beguiling it with mystery, enchanting it with surrealism, and bewitching it with blood. Cauldron Films’ Blu-ray is topnotch for an obscure made-for-TV Lenzi production.

“The House of Witchcraft,” a part of The Houses oof Doom series, Now on Blu-ray!

With Fame Comes Absurd EVIL Exploitation. “A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” reviewed! (Radiance Films / Limited-Edition Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Limited Edition Blu-ray of “A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” Now Available!

To compete against a rival fashion magazine who found profound success after hiring a famous gymnast as their spokesmodel, an ambitious fashion company sees potential in amateur golfer Reiko Sakuraba with her beauty, grace, and a decent enough golf game.  The only problem is Reiko has not won a championship.  The fashion company representative and Reiko’s sport’s columnist writer/manager/boyfriend Miyake strike a deal to get intensely train and mentally exhaust Reiko to be the best by the next tournament.  When Reiko outperforms the tournament’s veteran players, she instantly becomes a fashion icon and celebrity that leads to her own show for the magazine, photoshoots, and a large house in the middle of the suburbs.  Miyake’s aloof behavior continues even after Reiko’s success and while he drives her back home, he hits-and-runs a woman form the neighborhood who blackmails and guilts Reiko into letting her into the rich and famous lifestyle.  Reiko’s mental health slowly declines as pressures mounts.

“A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” is a tale of how the sudden rise of fame and fortune can quickly lead to world of hurt through inexperience, obsession, misguided love, abuse, and the day-to-day tasks that can even burden even the most common person.  The story also represents a dichotomy between fame and the mundane.  The 1977 Japanese surreal drama is helmed by Seijun Suzuki, a filmmaker once blacklisted by the head of Nikkatsu Studios after his film for the company, “Branded to Kill,” was deemed terrible by Nikkatsu execs, and rode the filmic bench for nearly a decade until his theatrical release of the Shochiku Ltd. Released production that allowed him the freedom for artistic expression.  Also concisely known as “A Tale of Sorrow,” the Suzuki picture is written by Atsushi Yamatoya based off manga by Ikki Kajiware and produced by Yoshiki Nomura, Kenzo Asada, and Tokuya Shimada.  

Yoko Shiraki steps into the tragic golf-cleated shoes of golfer-turned-spokesmodel Reiko Sakuraba who finds herself unknowingly being exploited as object of marketable objectification.  What’s interesting about Sakuraba is she’s totally alone amongst other adults in a real cutthroat and cruel way through her trajectory of success.  In the fashion world, the magazine representative behind the concept (Masumi Okada, “The Living Skeleton”) only wants her for her beauty and success, her boyfriend Miyake (Yoshio Harada, “Lady Snowblood 2:  Love Song of Vengeance”), and even an once starstruck housewife, Kayo Senba (Kyôko Enami, “Killer Whale”) who was struck by Miyake’s car and resents Reiko’s, blackmailing her way into the superstar golfer’s life by forcing her hand to relinquish all from her worldly possessions to her mind, body, and soul.  Shiraki gifts Sakuraba the fault of inability to say no with her innocence and naivety ravaged and exploited beyond the point of no return and beyond repair but Sakuraba clings to dear life, perhaps even sanity, because of tone person that too only reacts negatively around her but since their blood reaction is thicker in the watery connections manipulating her, Sakuraba’s hand is forced to do much all of the golfing and modeling hell for her adolescent younger brother Jun (Tetsu Mizuno), a smart yet reclusive boy with off screen aggression getting into fights with school bullies stemmed likely by his sister’s constant absence.  Sakuraba’s not only a slave to external obsessions of success, image, and greed but also a slave to internal obsessions with Mikyake who deprives her of the most basic primal needs for financial gain and for manipulative control.  Kôji Wada, Shûji Sano, Noboru Nakaya, sao Tamagawa, Tokie Hidari, and Jô Shishido co-star.

“A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” is Seijun Suzuki’s tour de force return to feature films.  A linear narrative speckled with surrealistic doses creates an unsettling and bizarre atmosphere of strongarm manipulation on the unassertive character of Reiko Sakuraba.  Her raw talent is mined and minced without much consent and pushed past mental exhaustion and collapse in what is an all too true theme surrounding the early television era of celebrity branding with esteemed figures being puppets for large scale companies in order to sell their promoted products.  Money, image, and success steer the helm without any due remorse to the elegant centerpiece of the room, driving Suzuki’s social commentary to extreme levels of misappropriation of a human person with feelings and ambitions of their own.  Instead, Reiko’s meekness is measured by Suzuki’s fabricated milieu of mistreatment represented partly in a behavioralism of semi-surrealism – Miyake’s stoic aloofness, Senba’s brazen hijack of Reiko’s fame and wealth, and even Jun’s withdraw and reclusion are all good archetype of strange conducts illegitimizing Reiko as person.  She’s dehumanized so much so she stops whatever little rationality she had to begin with and becomes a vessel of command that allowed those around to walk all over her.  Suzuki’s suburban reach toward fame theme is satirical for “A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness’s” thin blanketing of dark comedy and the filmmaker often accentuates the moments with elongated sequences, randomized bits of eccentricity, and highly stylized contrasts of sex and violence as well as commercially sensationalized imagery versus Stepford wives’ expectations.

A bleak absurdist dream, “A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” becomes rightly a part of the Radiance obscure, high level lineup with a new, limited-edition high-definition transfer Blu-ray release.  The AVC encoded, 1080p, BD50 receives the high definition transfer from the Shochiku Corporation, who currently distributes a fair amount of Anime and since “A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” is adapted from a Ikki Kajiware’s Manga, the film fits right in, and is presented in by Radiance in the original aspect ratio of a widescreen 2.35:1.  Radiance’s image quality surpasses expectations as visually bold in a wide variety of contrasting colors, especially in primaries of yellow and reds juxtaposed against achromatic shades of brilliant whites and deep blacks.  The original print is beyond pristine with virtually no dust, dirt, scratches, or any kind of visual impediments in what appears to be a well-preserved 35mm reel.  Skin tones appear naturally organic and textures pop in their specific fabrics inside an overlay of natural stock grain for that bare-faced aesthetic of clear based film strip.  The Japanese uncompressed mono PCM audio, again, surpasses expectations with a diverse mix through a single output that creates excellent note individualism rather than an indistinct amalgam.  The omitted compression codec provides the original audio framework comfortably upholding against the test of time without a flurry of issues in the single layer.  Hissing, popping, crackling and other types of interference are kept either suppressed or to a bare minimal in another pristinely kept transfer.  ADR dialogue clearly affixes to the images with synchronous efforts being no worse compared to other films of the era out of Japan.  The newly improved English subtitles render without error, are compositionally more-or-less within syntax range of translation, and pace nicely throughout.  Special features include a new audio commentary by film historian and author Samm Deighan, a new interview with assistant editor Kunihiko Ukai, and the film’s trailer.  The clear Amaray case contains Sam Smith commissioned artwork on an obi-strip included reversible sleeve – primary cover composition is of a live still of exhausted Reiko Sakuraba lying next to a bunker with a spirally title font and the reverse cover is more NSFW with a partially nude Reiko with boyfriend Miyake portrayed in soft, dreamy glow.  The white and red disc is pressed with eye-pleasing contrast and the inserted 31-page color booklet provides cast and crew credits, essay “Sorrow, Sadness, and the Sweet Smell of Excess” by Radiance regular contributor Jasper Sharp, an archive essay “The Realisation of a Seijun Sizuki Film” by Atsushi Yamatoya, and the Blu-ray acknowledgements. “A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” Radiance Blu-ray has a runtime of 93 minutes, is unrated, and since Radiance is a UK boutique label, collectors and film aficionados will get the best of both worlds with a region A and B playback.

Last Rites: Seijun Suzuki’s return to theatrical feature films with “A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” is a remarkable comeback for the ages and the decade interruption didn’t even cause a missed step for his artistic expression of exploitation and consumerism control ruining young, raw talent which is a clear-cut archetype of sorrow and sadness.

Limited Edition Blu-ray of “A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness” Now Available!

Let EVIL Give You a Hand! “The Beast Hand” reviewed! (Cleopatra Entertainment / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“The Beast Hand” Grabs A Blu-ray Release! Buy it Here!

A derelict criminal Osamu Kogure finds himself back in the company of his jumped parole crime boss Akira Inui, Kogure is back to being a manipulated puppet at the whims of a conceited and aggressive Inui.  When Inui persuades Kogure to give up the whereabouts of an old, reluctant fling Koyuki Igarashi, who went through full body surgery to wipe away her past with Inui, Kogure and Igarashi are trapped by Inui’s bull-headed intimidation, forcing them into a rushed heist that ends with Korgure’s hand being severed.  A syndicate surgeon grafts a deformed, experimental monstrous limb on his wound that turns Kogure into a superhuman beast when provoked.  Now gone rogue out of the surgeon’s reach, Kogure and Igarashi are hunted down across the region by a powerful crime boss’s clan to extract the success of Kogure’s new, powerful extremity but the once timid and submissive delinquent will no longer go down without a fight. 

Taichiro Natsume, the director behind the Big Summer Psychic Team shark series, such as “Ring Shark,” “Love Shark,” and “Last Shark,” moves away from the supernaturally swimming maneater terrorizing the sands and lands surrounding the creature’s resident watering well and popping up out of the bathwater of those clutched in its curse, forgoes another shark infested entry for a monstrous transplant tentacle in his latest outrageous indie horror, “The Beast Hand,” aka “Koletise käsi,” or original titled “Kemonote.”  The Japanese film is one part science-fictional body-horror thriller and one part yakuza splatter strife and is all part penned from the mixed-up monstrosity and melancholy swirling inside Natsume’s mind with cowritten efforts from Yasunori Kasuga.  Lead actor Takahiro Fukuya wears multiple production for producing the production under his studio company Eigabatake that foots the partial budget combined with the crowdfunding remaining purse pieces to bring this splatter dream to reality. 

Takahiro Fukuya invests himself full throttle into the role of Osamu Kogure leading to his real life and role to nearly be parallel to each other as Fukuya quits his day job, spends most of his money, and, likely, leads a temporary pauper lifestyle, much like his character, in order to get his vision off the ground and into production.  Fukuya embodies the weak-minded aspects of a fragile delinquent, submissive to a much more apex predator in the recently prison released, escaped parolee Akira Inui (Yôta Kawase, “Slave Ship,” “Maniac Driver”) in a take-all, give-nothing leader position in what Inui considers is his gang, completed by Misa Wada’s objectified into sexual slavery of Koyuki Igarashi.  The pink eiga actress, of such hits as “Corpse Prison” and “Black Tears,”  has lingering anxiety and timorous defensiveness for her character’s subject of sexual and verbal abuse by Inui only for it to transfigure it into a slap-across-the-face affection for the even more cowardly Kogure in an unforgettable sex scene prior to the monstrous hand augmentation.  The second half of the story rather abruptly butts into Korgure and Igarashi’s departure of the city and into more humble means of making a go of their relationship, especially now Igarashi is months pregnant after their slappy-rollick on top of the sleeping bag sack.  Character exposition of the couple’s circumstances at this point is nonexistent as Natsume uses images and exterior shaping scenes to fabricate their current, still poor, state trying to make it work until the surgeon and the gang leader come to collect their handy work.

“The Beast Hand” embarks into different subcategories of splatter subgenre filmmaking.  Natsume certainly pays homage to the Japanese gore-and-splatter films in his own miniscule way but keeps the blood down to the minimal level allowed for labelling as such, but the filmmaker invests into the hardships of the accounted characters without unleashing too many background details or story dynamic particulars to that doesn’t allow audiences to become too involved leaving characters banally wrapped in their strife from point A-to-Z.  Instead, Natsume concenters around two sides of the story;  the first being the elegancy of Kogure and Igarashi’s unlikely and oddly misshapen relationship with scenes of beach walking, comforting, cheap meals in a humble home, and of course, the slap-happy sex scene of two belittled and downtrodden people tying one off in expressive fit of passion while the second part is more tension-riddled hearty with a yakuza hunt for Kogure’s one-of-a-kind beast hand.  Both sides balance awkwardly along a sporadically dotted line of limited detail and time passed but ultimately collide at a culminating point of a beast hand slaughterhouse when Igarashi’s safety boils up the beast from within Kogure, tracking “The Beast Hand” as a horror with to some extent a rivulet of romantism often clunky and riddled with holes. 

Cleopatra Entertainment distributes in association with Reel Suspects the Blu-ray release of Taichiro Natsume’s “The Beast Hand.”  The AVC encoded, 1080p high-definition resolution, BD25 decodes an anemic picture presented in widescreen 1.78:1 aspect ratio.  Visually, “The Beast Hand” has nothing going for it other than a clean experience with no aliasing, minor banding, and other immaterial compression issues.  The lack of color pop and the feather washed grading dampen with a lifeless aesthetic toward a Japanese splatter subgenre that’s literally soaked in a manga style or pop art.  Dialogue renders over cleanly and with clarity in a Japanese Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo that syncs timely with the forced, grammatically errorless English subtitles.  Immersive qualities are limited to the two front channels that are vigorous only during the intermittent action full of Lou Ferringo Hulk snarls and growls when Kogure goes full milky-eyed beast mode and good squishy Foley as stomachs and heads are eviscerated and sliced down.  Bonus features are typical run of the mill for Cleopatra Entertainment with a cache of trailers for the company’s recent releases.  There’s also marketing promo clips for “The Beast Hand” but in Japanese without English subtitles.  The standard Blu-ray Amaray encases a decent, and uncredited, original photoshop illustration that is, however, partly inaccurate, and awkwardly arranged with a beast hand resembling nothing like the body horror hand transplant in the movie.  The cover feels like right off the commercial printer, raw homemade art.  Inside is the same art pressed to the disc with no other accompaniments.  The region free, not rated Blu-ray has a runtime of 77 minutes. 

Last Rites: As far as J-horror goes, “The Beast Hand” has average appeal inside a strung along story and not enough absurd Japanese off-the-wall concepts and violence to stand out amongst the crowded subgenre.

“The Beast Hand” Grabs A Blu-ray Release! Buy it Here!