Tag Archives: Killer Tongue

Mother Russia’s Most EVIL Serial Killer is “Evilenko” reviewed! (Unearthed Films / Limited Collector’s Edition 4K UHD and Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Limited Collector’s Edition 4K and Blu-ray Available Here!

Kyiv, 1984 – An aging schoolteacher named Andrej Evilenko is stuck in Josef Stalin’s quickly dwindling sociopolitical communism party and finds himself dismissed from the school after being accused of attempted rape of one of his preteen students.  His release from vocation obligates him to write letters to the Communist party still clinging to control and from those letters comes a job with the KGB under the guise of a railroad inspector.  Evilenko’s empowerment by the party drives his dangerous urges to rape, kill, and cannibalize women and children over years around Kyiv and Crimea, using his position of inspector to travel.  In 1987, Magistrate inspector, Vadim Lesiev, is assigned by the D.A. to hunt down the serial killer who has by then murdered over 30 victims.  Over the course of the next eight years, Lesiev finds himself chasing his tail and fearing for his own family’s safety against a monster that has all of Kyiv frightened. 

Based off the true crime story of notorious Soviet Russian serial killer Andrei Chikatilo, “Evilenko” tells the fantastically frightful tale of the real “Butcher of Rostov” who did confess and was convicted for rape, murder, and the cannibalization of 52 young women and children, of both sexes, from 1978 to 1990.  The Italian-English production is spearheaded by Italian filmmaker David Grieco who directs the film as well as supplies the story’s base material from his own semi-biographical novel on Andrej Chiktilo, entitled “The Communist Who Ate Children” (“Il comunista che mangiava i bambini”).  Grieco, the son of the of the founding members of the Communist party, finds a financial means to produce a visual adaptation from Britain’s Pacific Pictures consisting of Michael Cowan and Jason Plette of “Killer Tongue” and produced by Italy’s Mario Cotone (“Malena”), representing the MiBAC, the Italian Ministry of Cultural Activity.

Who better than to portray a variant of the child molesting, murdering, and eating Soviet Andrej Chikatilo than Malcolm McDowell, the British actor who is no stranger to controversial films and performances having the lead roles in both Stanley Kubrick’s celebrated violence in a dystopian society in “A Clockwork Orange” and in the pornography spliced infiltrated titular performance film of the sultry period drama “Caligula.”  Being older and wiser doesn’t phase McDowell to shy away from committing to difficult scenes involving minor aged costars, especially scenes with sexually ambiguous dialogue and being pants less while speaking it, and while not a physically demanding role for McDowell nor is it filled with the intense-eyed actor’s usual fiery fervor, but in the shoes of Evilenko, he nails down the real serial killer Chikatilo’s exterior appearance, despite attempting to make McDowell appear younger with just only a wig to convince audiences of the 20-year span in the story, and touches upon the oddities and the quirks that make Chikatilo a delusionally faithful comrade, justified by his own investment into the communist party.  Evilenko’s archnemesis comes in the form of district attorney magistrate investigator Vadim Lesiev, played by the underutilized New Zealand born actor Marton Csokas (“Lord of the Rings,” “Cuckoo”).  “Evilenko” is clearly the Malcolm McDowell show but Csokas gives his all to a man not only doing his duty as an official of the Russian pervading prosecution but also as a family man haunted by his inadequacies and his inabilities to catch the perverted serial killer that might just strike close to home, putting Lesiev on edge with that nagging worriment.  Grieco’s editing and story development greatly undercurrent Csoka’s motivations and plights, distorting his complexities to a minor key of his true self, and letting McDowell have free reign over his subsidiary counterpart.   Yet, neither character is fleshed out definitively, none to compel a reason for their idiosyncratic methods and behaviors, which goes hand-in-hand with the purgatorial editing that is loose with the timeframe.  Ruby Krammer (“Alien Exorcism”), Frances Barber (“Superstitition”), Vladimir Levitskiy, Ihor Ciszkewycz, John Benfield (“Hitler’s S.S.:  Portrait in Evil”), and Ronald Pickup (“Zulu Dawn”) as a psychotherapist assisting tracking down the killer.  

As much as the Grieco and McDowell dynamic works to monstrously depict a coldhearted and crafty serial killer coupled with a sliver of slithering supernatural propensities to lure women and children in a fixed trance or, in more conventional means, into doing what he wants with an spellbinding combination of stares, manipulative conversation, or just overall emitting a towering communist cloud of authority, “Evilenko” is deflated by the story’s time lapsing.  Opening with Kyiv 1984 and then subsequently in Crimea five years later in 1989, the noting of years or periods is hereafter eliminated from the narrative that becomes a back-and-forth yarn between a select of Evilenko’s pied piper lures and kills and magistrate Lesiev always behind the eightball pursuit of the elusive, unknown killer.  There’s a loss of sight on Lesiev’s psyche that is very important to the story and more so at the climatic interrogation scene where both men are stark-naked in a power and controlling situation that harks back to Evilenko’s mesmerizing tactics used against the adolescent prey and Lesiev’s fear and obsession of losing his family to what once was an uncatchable slaughterer who hallmarked with mutilation and devouring.  Grieco’s willingness to be grisly is tamer than the expected based off the prologue scenes of Evilenko exploiting and nearly raping a preteen girl but doesn’t take away the effect that the entire narrative arouses an uncomfortable experience teased to always be on the edge of overly graphic but never breaking that threshold; “Evilenko” is one of the biggest blue balls instigators is in last 20 years and that rush of not seeing or knowing can be more thrillingly charged for some than anything totally explicit ever could produce. 

Unearthed Films limited collector’s edition has 2-disc, dual format capacity with a 4K UHD and Blu-ray.  The second 4K UHD from the label, behind their release of “The Guyver,” solidifies the extreme horror company a player in the ultra high-definition game.  The New 4K transfer restoration of the original camera negative is HVEC encoded, presented in a widescreen 1.85:1 aspect ratio with 2160p UHD, on a massive three layered BD100.  The Blu-ray comes AVC encoded, 1080p high-definition, on a BD50, presented in the same aspect ratio.  What’s gathered from both presentations is that there’s nothing to fault them with as both excel to their max output abilities.  In fact, the transfers are pretty much identical, integrally achieved by digital optimization of an already optimized digital camera, a Sony PMWEX3 with 35mm adapters, which at that time was the bigger brother and flagship model of the Sony line.  A slight grading reduction instills a sense of austere or lackluster coloring that mocks a communist Russia veneer.  Close ups on McDowell’s unique features and the expound of particulars in the surroundings, especially when engulfed in leaf-covered and tree-thick woods, tell of the emerged details and textures in a higher pixel count.  An English DTS-HD 5.1 Master Audio is the sole mix available.  The back and side channels are essentially used sparing for a few flakes of brief ambient hubbub in what’s mostly a frontloaded conversational piece of mostly McDowell in one of his great monologuing moments. We get some nice oblong orchestral pieces from the late David Lynch regular composer Angelo Badalamenti (“Lost Highway,” “Twin Peaks”) that incorporates haunting harmonies and soft, ethereal vocals that play into the loss of innocence theme. Dialogue’s healthy and prominently favorable next to the unchallenged low ran range. English subtitles are available for selection. The BD100 offers only the feature, and a new commentary track with director/writer David Griece and star Malcolm McDowell while the Blu-ray offers the same commentary plus Evilenko Dossier: Andrei Chikatilo, the examination of the real killer against the onscreen rendition, cast and crew interviews with Grieco, McDowell, and Badalamenti, a photo gallery, and the original film trailer all within the bonus content of a fluid menu with Badalamenti’s and vocalist Dolores O’Riordan’s main track “Angels Go to Heaven.” The limited collector’s edition is housed in a cardboard slipcover of one of the many variants of Malcolm McDowells face slathered in soviet red. The black Amaray has the same cover art with no reversible cover. The discs are snap-locked in place on opposite sides, pressed with another slathered in red image pulled from powerful interrogation scene between Evilenko and Lesiev. Both formats are not rated, locked region A encoded, and have a runtime of 111 minutes.

Last Rites: “Evilenko” is a heavy story that needed to be told. You don’t hear much about the USSR vulnerability and the real-life serial killer had frightened the proud, the stoic, and the impoverished alike as “Evilenko” seers as a case study mental illness, is a metaphor for deteriorating Communism, and a tale too terrible to forget and despite some pacing issues and timeline infractions, Grieco and McDowell pull off a rather nasty semi-doc of one of the worst killers to ever live.

Limited Collector’s Edition 4K and Blu-ray Available Here!

One EVIL Deed Doesn’t Correct The First EVIL Deed! “Cannibal Man” reviewed (Severin / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Marcos, a middle-aged abattoir worker, resists the pleas of Paula, his young girlfriend, to confess their self-defense killing of a taxi driver.  When Paula decides she’s inform the police without him, Marcos strangles her and stows her body in the bedroom of his outworn house.  The killing continues when loved ones come poking around to find answers about the disappearance or discover the macabre scene in Marcos bedroom.  Bodies pile up, the smell reaches decaying levels, and Marcos is plagued with nervous guilt.  Every day using his meat clever, he chops up bits and pieces of each victim and takes them to the slaughterhouse processing to rid the evidence and the smell, but no matter how many body parts he unburdens or how much fragrance he sprays, the sweet smell of death sticks with him. 

If someone would have said to me – you need to see a flick from Spanish director Eloy de la Iglesia – would you have ever guessed my first stop would be with his 1972 “The Cannibal Man” shocker?  To get to know a filmmaker’s directorial style and personal themes, the most gruesome horror can sometimes be a reflection into the soul of full disclosure because life, as most of us know from our own personal accounts, demons, and happenstances, can be ugly, nasty and unfair and can be cathartically expressed through film by a wretched shell navigating an undercurrent message to others.  That’s how Eloy de la Iglesia’s “The Cannibal Man” speaks to me.  Also known as “La semana del asesino,” or “The Week of the Killer,” as well as “The Apartment on the 13th Floor,” don’t expect an archetypical slasher and cannibal framework from this picture with many names.  “The Cannibal Man” is no “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” or similar to that of “Wrong Turn” as the film stands alone, conveyed as unsurmountable struggles of renewing oneself, a social commentary of class structures, and, also, dabbles in homosexuality suggestion.  Executive producer José Truchado, who also produced “Hundra” and had bit roles in Jesús Franco’s “The Mistress of Dr. Jykell” and “Killer Tongue,” finances the film under his self-titled production company and presented by Atlas International Film (“The Blind Dead Collection”).

Looking to separate himself from strapping hunk typecasting and to show the world he can do more than just romantic comedies and action, the Madrid born Vincente Parra undertook a massive risk with the lead role Marcos, a meat processing factory worker in his, presumably, late 30’s to early 40’s with little education and social status who’s keeping company with a younger woman still living with and under the rules of her parents.  Let’s not to forget to mention Marcos’s grisly acts of murder and the homosexuality suggestions during his middle of the night rendezvouses with new best bud and neighbor Néstor (Eusebio Poncela, “The Death of the Scorpion).  Nothing sexual happens but the innuendo is there as, aside from his dog, the single bachelor Néstor often invites a tense Marcos out for a late night café visit, an afterhours swim at the local late night pool, and up to his swanky apartment where Néstor often watches Marcos from his high-rise balcony through Marcos’s makeshift skylight with binoculars.  Iglesia, who is gay, puts his own spin on the characters to allude to, and often over played as well, the two men as equally interested parties without ever having to speak a single word or make visible a single touch that would confirm otherwise.  Parra and Poncela couldn’t have acted better a disinterested-interested pair full of sexual tension and naïve foreplay.  Aside from the significant love interest characters from Vicky Lagos, who plays local waitress, Rosa, at the eatery Marcos patrons and “Night of the Walking Dead’s” Emma Cohen, Marcos’s girlfriend Paula, no other character have reoccurring scenes and are simply drafted as what should be major roles in the story to then be cut down by Marcos’s undervaluing psychopathy.  Charly Bravo, Fernando Sánchez Polack, Goyo Lebrero, and Lola Herrera fill in the rest of the cast list.

Strike out the slasher category for “The Cannibal Man” as Iglesia offers more than just a mindless, demented, hack’em up killer.  Behind Marcos brown eyes lies a reason of cold truth about his place in the world as a man who is ultimately and foremost stuck.  Stuck at a dead-end job.  Suck in his relationship with Paula.  Hell, Marco is even stuck living in a small bygone bungalow sticking out like a sore thumb right in the middle of new and wealthy high rise buildings.  He’s unskilled and uneducated, living in his brother’s house, and with no end to his personal wedging between his lackluster coursed life and his own short failings as a man until all that mediocre and mundane misery begins to ooze and shape into the one thing he tries to control – murder.  Even murder starts to spin out of control and heavy, burdensome guilt sets as seen in scenes with Néstor who’s choice of words perk up Marcos’s jumpy ears with fear of being caught.  Iglesia is a master at scene compositions that use audio cues, along with a jarring, tonal reversing soundtrack, to accentuate Marcos’s ascending paranoia as well as accentuating the scenes of the more period radical grasping social commentary on homosexuality and the unthinkable back-to-back-to-back-to-back murders.  Editor José Luis Matesanz also slyly cuts transitional scenes together in a stunningly seamless and crafty way that resemble close to Robert Wise (“Citizen Kane,” “The Andromeda Strain”) with harsh cuts that form a directional track and utilizes semi-abstract panning and reverse panning to fill in less significant gaps between the action.  Don’t expect a large amount of cannibalism in the story either.  Marcos isn’t gnawing on bones or baking a flesh brisket; instead, his act of cannibalism falls upon irony in that the bodies he tries to purge from his home ends up coming back to haunt him in more ways than one. 

If you love obscure, foreign horror that sustains a fresh packaged air about it, in story and in a remastered transfer, I highly recommend checking out Severin’s newly scanned, region free Blu-day distributed by MVD Visual.   The BD50 comes with two versions of the film, the 98-minute international cut and the 107-minute Spanish version extended cut, newly scanned from the original 35mm negatives for the first time.  Both transfers have excellent picture quality, some of the best I’ve ever seen come out of Severin, presented in 1080p in a widescreen 1:85:1 aspect ratio.  Not a lot of age wear and tear on the either transfer with each cut having only minor and light scratches scarcely throughout.  There’s sufficient, natural grain in both versions, but the extended cut’s grain flattens up, looking coarser, in the extra scenes.  Coloring grade is gorgeous with natural looking skin tones and you can see the details were refined and redefined.  Both versions come with an English dub and Spanish language DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 track with some back-and-forth forced English dub in those coarser grained scenes that make the flow unsettling.  Both versions render hearty range and fidelity with a strong dialogue track that syncs well with the option English subtitles, but slightly off sync with image unity.  Underneath the double-sided cardboard sleeve, Severin’s special features include Cinema at the Margins – a Stephen Thrower (author of “Beyond Terror: The Films of Lucio Fulci”) and Dr. Shelagh Rowan-Legg (author of “The Spanish Fantastic: Contemporary Filmmaking in Horror, Fantasy and Sci-fi” on director Eloy de la Iglesia, The Sleazy and the Strange – interview with Spanish film scholar Carlos Aguilar on director Eloy del la Iglesia, deleted scenes, and trailer.  An engrossing bodega of vile Euro horror is what “The Cannibal Man” presents as a first-rate cutthroat thriller from the shamefully underrated filmmaker, Eloy de la Iglesia.

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