Tag Archives: spain

Gaudy, Superfluous EVIL Sits in Your Living Room and Destroys Your Family. “The Coffee Table” reviewed! (Cinephobia Releasing / DVD)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“The Coffee Table” Would Look Good in Your Living Room! Purchase It Here Today!

Jesús and Maria are new parents with a beautiful baby boy.  Maria has been eager for a baby and sent through several medical treatment for the bundle of joy while Jesús continuous rides the fence about being a father.  When the baby arrives, the boy becomes a source of usually one-sided bickering and jabbing contention as Maria feels Jesús could be a better father to their newborn son.  When they move into a new apartment, they find themselves in a furniture store looking at a gaudy glass coffee table Maria can’t stand the sight of, but Jesús very much can’t live without.  While Maria steps out to shop for an upcoming luncheon with Jesús’s brother and young girlfriend, Jesús briefly stops assembling the table to take care of the baby until a tragic accident happens that reshapes everything and everyone Jesús cares about, and impels him to bottle in the tragedy, hiding it in extreme guilt from his wife and guests, as he struggles to find the right moment to relieve his soul. 

Marriage is hard.  Parenting is even harder.  Choosing a coffee table should be a delicious piece of decision-making cake but for director Caye Casas choosing living room décor can be deadly.  The “Killing God” director follow up his debut feature with the 2022 released domestic disturbing comedy-horror “La Mesita Del Comedor,” aka “The Coffee Table.”   Casas cowrites the film with Cristina Borobla, her first screenwriting credit but not her first collaborative effort working with the director as the vocational Art Director has been involved in Cases’s other works, such as “Killing God,” his 2017 short “RIP,” and amongst others.  Maria José Serra (“Amigo Invisible”) and Norbert Llaràs (“Killing God,” “The Perfect Witness”) put their producer café mugs onto “The Coffee Table” with the hailing from Spain production companies La Charito Films, Alhena Production, and Apocalipsis Producciones. 

Much of “The Coffee Table” is set inside the tiny, newly moved into apartment of Jesús and Maria who even though rag on each other’s opinions and one of them don’t necessarily favor being a parent, deep down the unlikely pair do have a strong love attraction that swims upstream against the repelling.  In the roles of Jesús and Maria are David Pareja, whose worked with Casas inner circle before with “Killing God,” and Estefanía de los Santos with an unforgettable, characteristic raspy voice that magnifies the role tenfold.  Both Pareja and de los Santos are comedically bred with a long list of hilarious Spanish features to prep them to see the gut-punching, black humor of what’s to come in “The Coffee Table.”  Frankly, there’s nothing negatively to report in Pareja and de los Santo’s flawless, funny, and unfortunate family dysfunctional performances surrounding their love-hate relationship and the knot of culpability and the bliss ignorance contrast that’s delineated between them.  Floating into the mix of repressiveness are side stories that become assimilated by the untold tragedy, such as the neighbor’s daughter (Gala Flores) with an intense belief Jesús loves her, the smarmy coffee table salesman (Eduardo Antuña, “Killing God”) who also have an interest in Jesús, and Jesús’s brother Carlos (Josep Maria Riera, “RIP”) and his barely 18-year-old girlfriend (Claudia Riera, “The Communion Girl”) being ribbed for their own odd couple relationship and giving a surprise announcement of their own. 

Though a comedy and a horror, I didn’t find “The Coffee Table” all that funny but more so quirky, outrageously bold, and shockingly hard-hitting instead.  Horror, definitely without a doubt, comes through but not in a typical to be scared or to exact fear way with any of the conventional themes to support its harrowing weight.  The horror that uncoils is every parent’s worst scenario, the underlying nightmare that grabs the soul and squeezes until every drop of anxiety is wrung out of our wet bag of bones and meat.  The incident itself is gnarly and unspeakable but the post-trauma slithers in a nasty case of guilty conscious, shame, and fear that can freeze someone to the spot to where they clam up, sweat profusely, stomach twisted, and have self-harming thoughts from the conjoined cause and effect of having to tell your partner the most terrible of news and see their composure, their affection flush away in a blink of an eye.  Casas able to string along the aftermath to extract a feature length film without it ever approaching critically forced or farfetched, adding on and expanding upon the luncheon or Jesús’s wiggling through painfully with excuses on why Maria should leave the baby sleeping peacefully in their room.  The passively aggressive sparring atmosphere quickly turns into colossal tension and hopelessness through the mechanism of dark black comedy.  As a parent myself, “The Coffee Table” evokes great sadness and mental strife of the situational possibility, the greatest horror of all time.    

The cruel film by Caye Casas arrives onto a Cinephobia Releasing DVD. The MPEG2 encoded, upscaled 720p, DVD5 comes in at being the eleventh release for the Philadelphia based, eclectic independent film distributor. And, boy, is it a doozy. For “The Coffee Table’s” image, not the two, artificially gilded naked women holding an oval shape, unbreakable pane of glass, the feature’s picture quality renders about as good as any single layer capacity unit can decode in a digital age with modest details, muted hues, hard lit, and a good amount of spectrum banding in the darker areas. Not to fret, however, as there’s plenty to discern with a film that isn’t reliant on details but more reliant on hitting you wear it hurts, heavyheartedly. The Spanish language Dolby Digital 5.1 uses a lossy compression that, again, suitable to the movie’s means of conveying a contortioned, ruthless story defining the very meaning of a no way-out, no-win situation. Dialogue really is key for this type of narrative to work and progress and does come through fine without an ounce of earshot hinderance. Also, not that type of film that provides a breadth of range or depth as much of the layers express in a very near arrangement, as expected in a concentrated setting of Jesús and Maria’s apartment home. English subtitles are optionally available, and they synch up and pace well with only one noticeable grammatical error. Not much in the way of special features as only Cinephobia Releasing trailers fill that spot and there is not mid or end credits scene. The 90-minute film’s DVD release comes not rated and has region 1 playback. Other regions are untested, and the back cover does not state the official region playback capacity.

Last Rites: Caye Casas and Cinephobia Releasing has the cajónes to not table this wonderfully bleak black comedy-horror from reaching audiences far and wide. “The Coffee Table” is a painful reminder of just how fragile life can be, much like a cheapy made piece of tawdry decor from China.

“The Coffee Table” Would Look Good in Your Living Room! Purchase It Here Today!

Necrophiliac EVIL Until the Eyes Open Awake. “The Corpse of Anna Fritz” reviewed! (Invincible / DVD)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Get “The Corpse of Anna Fritz” While Available! Purchase here!

Renowned actress Anna Fritz steals the hearts of millions as fan adorn her beauty and her acting performances that invite her to galas and red-carpet events.  Young and promising, Anna’s career is at its peak until her untimely death upon discovering her lifeless body in the bathroom of a private party.  This is where we begin Anna Fritz’s story, at her death as her body is wheeled and stored into a hospital morgue, naked on a metal gurney and under a white sheet.  In the hands of a late-night shift orderly, Pau, Anna’s beauty and body becomes the ultimate temptation as he sends his party rowdy friends Ivan and Javi pictures.  As soon as Ivan and Javi show up, curious and eager to see the once famous Anna Fritz in all her glory, Pau leads them down to the basement morgue where Ivan and Pau decided to have a once in a lifetime experience of molesting and penetrating her corpse at the disagreement and discouragement of Javi, but in the middle of the necrophiliac act, Anna wakes up in a temporary paralyzed state of shock.  Now that she has seen their faces, the three men have to come together to decide on her fate or theirs. 

By the very title alone, you know “The Corpse of Anna Fritz” is going into the dark territory of sick perversion with unnatural molestation of a human corpse.  The 2015 Spanish film, natively titled “El cadáver de Anna Fritz,” is the debut feature written and directed by Hèctor Hernández Vicens (“Day of the Dead:  Bloodline”) and cowritten with Isaac P. Creus.  An unofficial re-envision or just reminiscent of Marcel Sarmiento and Gadi Harel’s “Deadgirl” where young hormonally aggressive young men find themselves immorally pants down with a presumed dead body of a beautiful young woman without the supernatural element, and sprinkled with similar imagery and energy to that of the following year’s “The Autopsy of Jane Doe,” even with the DVD cover art and film title, “The Corpse of Anna Fritz” is more grounded in reality in comparison but still retains the theme of what aberrant people will do when they believe no one is watching, no one is getting hurt, and believe they’re doing nothing wrong when in fact everything they’ve done is completely deviant and a price has to be paid.  Produced by Bernat Vilaplana, Marc Gomez del Moral, Xavier Granada, and Marta and Albert Carbó, the film is a co-production of Silendum Films, Plató de Cinema, and the Instituto de la Cinematografia y de las Artes Audiovisuales. 

Like most of these autopsy or morgue pictures, they come standard with intimate casting of less than a handful of actors to create a sense of dreadful isolation and loneliness far from public view and safety.  Vicens’s basement of dead body debauchery follows suit with a quad-principal of three men – Cristian Valencia (“Atrocious”), Albert Carbó (“Beach House”), Bernat Saumell (“Eloïse’s Lover”) – and the one lone woman Alba Ribas (“Diary of a Nymphomaniac,” “Faraday”) mainly secluded to the morgue and its cramped backroom.  Valencia, Saumell, and Ribas have worked previously together a couple of years prior on the rom-com “Barcelona Summer Night” and that possible familiarity may have contributed to a feeling of ease when shooting the disturbingly portrayed necrophilism scenes where Ribas’s amazingly still life proneness is physically being rocked back and forth until her head eventually slides off the back of the gurney in a truly sub-rose moment of a cold-fact reality in one point in time, I’m sure.  The three men run the gamut of being trio of separate personalities to which the respective actors deliver the tension into with Ivan (Valencia) as the coked up party boy game for anything except being caught, the orderly Pau (Carbó) has a deep, dark yet timid obsession with molesting the dead of the fairer sex, and Javy (Saumell) exacting some measure of level-headedness and reason despite going along in the first place.  Opinions and concern perspective clash between them with Anna Fritz’s undead consciousness comes around yet the whole back-and-forth does become too long in what is a crap-or-get-off-the-pot stymie of progression in the second act.

Other confounding instance continuous slip banana peels under the feet of “The Corpse of Anna Fritz’s” extreme depravity and violence.  Aside from waltzing right into the hospital morgue without being spotted by personnel or security cameras (there’s CCTV in Spain, right?), Anna Fritz being dead for hours and then suddenly wake up could be considered a medical miracle. With no signs of brain damage other than a temporary nerve paralysis that alleviates segments of her body at a time, Anna appears to be completely recovered and showing no signs of being dead for hours.  She’s even noted as being cold to the touch before the turning point.  If you can stomach the indecent touching of a dead body and then the subsequent risen of said dead body, in what could be considered a parallel to the resurrection of Christ as Anna is this beloved figure killed by self-destruction by her own fame, the Spanish thriller picks up with the ever-growing cascade of bad decisions and no-turning-back moments and with that, those obfuscated moments can be pushed aside with the shocking, disturbing, if not sickening basement-dwelling behavior that’s sought taboo television. For a near stationary storyline, “The Corpse of Anna Fritz” paces particularly well within limited oscillation, especially with the first act and half without Anna Fritz being, lack of a better word, alive.

The 2015 released Spanish film finally sees its day back in the U.S. market with a re-release DVD from Invincible Entertainment. The MPEG-2 encoded, 480p, on a DVD-9 that decodes the data decently at an average of 7Mbps and presenting it in a widescreen 1.78:1 aspect ratio. Yet, therein lies still some evident compression issues such as banding in the darker image regions. Skin tones and details, however, are favorable and delineated nicely. The Spanish uncompressed PCM stereo 2.0 has and shows no trouble of making itself heard with a lively dialogue track overtop an ambient secondary that’s a little on the softer side for an echoey basement, if you ask me. English subtitles are forced with no optional menu. In fact, there is no menu at all as the film starts up from the very moment you hit play on your physical media device. Translation appears accurate and errorfree with my knowledge of the language and the Spanish dialect. Aforementioned, there is no DVD menu, resulting in no special features to peruse. I quite like the simplistic, yet provocative cover image on Invincible Entertainment’s release; it may not be as graphically explicit as the Dutch Blu-ray but does still immediately direct one’s brain to the depravity to come with an eye-opening twist. Inside holds a nearly identical image on the disc press with only a slight facial change. There is also no inserts, booklets, or slipcovers with this release. Invincible’s release comes not rated, has a playback of region 1, and has welcomingly brisk runtime of 76 minutes.

Last Rites: “The Corpse of Anna Fritz” doesn’t sprinkle a coating of sugar over what it set out to do – to gorge viewers with real world ghoulish, post-mortem coprolagnia and necrophilia – and like those very few titles in existence across cinema land, a universal theme of those who mess with the dead get theirs in the end.

Get “The Corpse of Anna Fritz” While Available! Purchase here!

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

Posted by Steven Lewis on

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Forcing Conformity on EVIL is a Violent Cause. “Murder in a Blue World” reviewed! (Cauldron Films / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“Murder in a Blue World” now available on Blu-ray!  Purchase a Copy Here at Amazon.com!

Nurse Ana Vernia lives in an authoritarian, dystopian world where she just received a commendation for her work, but beneath the archetype of a scrutinizing society seeking to acculturate deviants by way of involuntary electroshock treatments, Ana moonlights in her own violent behavior as an act of mercy. Under the pretense of disguises, Ana seduces men aberrant to the social norms, returns them to her luxurious mansion, sleeps with them, and to then only murder them with precision before they can be subjected to imperious judgement for being different. All the while, societal dissentient David, an exiled member of a brutal gang, witnesses Ana’s exploits and infiltrates her home, her life, to garner incriminating evidence in order to blackmail her for money, but when David is tracked down for his former gang and beaten to near death, he comes ironically under the care of nurse Ana who plans to fix David before his fate before the electroshock treatments.

Get ready to dial high on voltage on the social commentary scale, “Murder in the Blue World” is a fascinating, dystopian look at social disorder. Heavily influenced in more ways than one by Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange,” the Eloy de la Iglesia 1973 picture was once entitled “Clockwork Terror” in the U.S. to ride the lucrative coattails of Kubrick’s symphony to violence. Also known in other parts of the world as “To Love, Perhaps to Die,” “Satansbrut” (“Satan’s Fiend”), and “La clinique des horreurs” (“The Clinic of Horrors”), Iglesia’s original penned script and title actually “Una gota de sangre para morir amando” (“A Drop of Blood to Die Loving”), co-written with José Luis Garci (“El Teroso”), Antonio Artero (“El tesoro del capitán Tornado”), George Lebourg, and Antonio Fos (“Panic Beats”). The Spanish film goes internationally by many monikers but has one objective and that is to counter the dictation of free-thinking individuals with violence. “Murder in a Blue World” is produced by José Frade under his self-titled production company, José Frade Producciones Cinematográficas S.A.

“Murder in a Blue World” is so much so in the Stanley Kubrick wake, the film stars Sue Lyon who played the titular character in Kubrick’s “Lolita.”  More than a decade later, the “End of the World” and “The Astral Factor” actress enters another emotionally lacerating role of a woman, a nurse, sworn to do no harm who sees that a quick euthanization is the only possible mercy she can offer to spare societal downcast souls from a fate far worse than death in a cold and cruel condemnatory world.  Lyon’s excellent in curating her different disguises and looks, taking on a variety of personas with subtle mannerisms despite how comical or implausible they may appear on screen, such as the idea of being an old, gray-haired woman.  Lyon is fair and small in stature compared to her male counterparts but commands the screen with her confident approach to Ana’s advantageous beauty and eroticism that can turn a gay man straight apparently.  Former gang member David shares her ideology to an extent, to the extent of capitalizing off her nightly murder for mercy escapades in order to survive on the street alone.  Christopher Mitchum, son of the late Golden Age of Cinema actor Robert Mitchum (“El Dorado,” “The Longest Day,” “Scrooged”), plays the nihilistic gangbanger with aversion to any or all rules that tell him how to think.  Mitchum’s impressive motorbike skills are utilized for an impressive chase sequence that incorporates ramp jumps and car crashes at a high speed velocity, a talent Mitchum and film producers utilized often in his other credits, such as “Sumertime Killer” and “Big Jake.”  Lyon and Mitchum don’t have much screen time until later in the story but their interactions are playful, flirtatious almost, but in a predator-prey kind of way and we’re not really sure which-is-which in that shifty relationship.   French actor Jean Sorel (“A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin”) rounds out the three-prong principal characters as a diehard representative of the authoritarian body and a potential love interest for Ana.  Playing Victor Sender, a neurologist experimenting on the criminally insane with electroshock therapy and working at the same hospital as nurse Ana, Sorel is the epitome of the calculating stability and clean-cut coldness of the ruling class that’s doesn’t see what they’re doing to be a unjust, cruel, or even a problem at all. “Murder in a Blue World” rounds out the cast with Ramón Pons (“Scarab”), Charly Bravo (“The Cannibal Man”), Alfredo Alba, Antonia del Rio, Domingo Codesido Ascanio, and Fernando Hilbeck (“The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue”).

On the surface, director Eloy de la Iglesia carves a rib right out of Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange” with themes of exquisite, unprovoked violence sparked by the very basis of rebellion against authority. Not to also forget to mention the elaborately dressed gang of four, the electroshock treatment that aims to cure the criminal cerebrum, and the dystopian, futuristic guild with hints of fascism. “Murder in a Blue World” is a mixture that’s two-third post-Kubrick and one-third part pre-Paul Verhoeven, the latter reaching into fascist imagery as well as extreme commercialism that has surely inspired the “Robocop” and “Starship Trooper” director. Blue wellness drinks and panther-primitive men’s underwear are just a few the commercials fabricated for Iglesia’s coloring of an influential culture as the filmmaker uses the motif to symbolize and parallel brainwashing that becomes more severe when the government attempts to force a cure for criminality down incarcerated individuals’ throats. Even David announces to the world in multiple scenes how he doesn’t care what others think and he’s a free thinker. Homosexuality, prostitution, and physical imperfections suggest master race ideology amongst the domineering class hierarchy. Those who Ana seduce, as well as David, struggle in poverty and are considered inferior though not explicitly mentioned in the story. Iglesia integrates his trademark graphic violence, closeups of stabbings and throat slitting, but only really visualizes post-third act climax to keep more of an implied violence, off screen, and quickly edited to maintain an unclear vagueness of what’s right and what’s wrong in what Ana’s accomplishing.

A phenomenal companion piece and second bill to Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange,” Eloy de la Iglesia’s “Murder in a Blue World” finds Blu-ray love with a high definition, 1080p release from the genre film eternizing Cauldron Films. The Blu-ray debut is a 2K restoration of the 35mm transfer that has held up fairly well over the decades to only show pockets of wear and tear. Presented in a widescreen 2.40:1 aspect ratio, there’s no edge enhancement or digital noise reduction to clear out the natural stock grain, leaving the picture quality with more texture. Skin tones are, for the most part, natural and popping color grade doesn’t stray too far from its integrity until one brief scene goes full Oompa-Loompa orange before reverting back to normal. Light scratching is common throughout but not obtrusive to the viewing. Two audio options come with the release, an English dub dual mono and a Spanish dub dual mono. Since the cast is comprised of American, French, and Spanish native actors, neither track appears attractive from a lip-reading and audio-hearing perspective. Preferably, I went English dub as Sue Lyons and Chris Mitchum monopolize the lion’s share of screen time. There’s quite a bit of hissing and popping on the single channel output that can render dialogue almost indistinct but passes with a D+. The English subtitles synch well and show no sign of inaccuracy or grammatical issues. English SDH captions are available as well. Special features include a 2008 archive interview with Chris Mitchum, an interview with dubbing guru Ben Tatar Dubbing in a Blue World, a video essay read by Spanish Gothic film and literature scholar Dr. Xavier Aldana Reyes who dives into the themes and constructs of Iglesia’s film, audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, the VHS cut of “Clockwork Terror” in 720p standard definition, and image gallery. The physical release comes in a clear Blu-ray snapper with a colorfully illustrated cover art that is reversible with one of the more notable and beautifully shot scenes on the inside. With a runtime of 97 minutes, the release is region free and is unrated. “Murder in a Blue World” receives a gorgeous Blu-ray restoration and debut as it’s an eclectic work of inspired and pioneering visual art from one of Spain’s most individualist directors.

“Murder in a Blue World” now available on Blu-ray!  Purchase a Copy Here at Amazon.com!

The EVIL Gutierrez Family Accommodations are to Die For! “Fucking Bastards” reviewed! (Wild Eye Releasing / DVD)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Those “F**king Bastards” on DVD at Amazon.com

On the walk path to Santiago, on an isolated stretch of the trail, hikers Richie and Lucia run into a bit of bad luck when Richie’s foot is severely injured by a speeding car driving recklessly on what’s typically a walking path.  Needing immediate aid, they’re forced down a offshoot path to the isolated Hotel Gutierrez, a local hostel ran by the eccentric manager, Arturo Gutierrez, and his family.  Unsure about the odd hostel manager and even more unsure about the temperamental cook serving questionable, gloopy slop but continue to entertain their hosts’ hospitality to not offend or make upset, Richie and Lucia quickly realize they’ve made a grave mistake in staying when the Gutierrezes are actually a deranged family of cannibals exploiting their guests for the one thing, to be the main course on the Gutierrez menu.  The path trekkers find themselves on the receiving end of a butcher’s block that might not have been an accident after all.

“Jordidos Kabrones” aka “Fucking Bastards” is the 2012 precursor film to Manolito Motosierra’s “Spanish Chainsaw Massacre” from 2017, introducing viewers to the morbid-madcap antics of the Gutierrez family. The comedy-horror uses the Camino de Santiago, or the walk to St. James, as the backdrop that ultimately leads to an unprovoked massacre of the pilgrims traversing to the shrine of the first martyred apostle St. James at the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Some believe that walking the trail is a part of a sinner’s expiation toward God. In Motosierra’s case, as seen in “Fucking Bastards,” the seemingly normal hiking trail is a gateway to Hell for all when a local family exploits the pilgrimage as a source of unconventional comestibles that has been a tradition passed down from generation to generation. Over-the-top with nauseating ordure and gore, Motosierra refuses to hold back in the mire situation that leaves Richie and Lucia being the unfortunate guests of the Gutierrez hostel. The feature is produced by Motosierra and Kiko Navarro, who’ve went on to collaborate on “The Corpse Grinders 3” and “Spanish Chainsaw Massacre,” assistant producers Santi Banjo and Fernando Montano Galvañ, and is a Spanish conglomerate production of AGP Productions in association with Olga Underground, Yosoyfande Reanaimator Association, Dark Times Visual, Esquizoide Productions, San Jorge School of Film and Audio, and the Alcoi Film Office.

If you’re like me and ended up watching the follow up film, “Spanish Chainsaw Massacre,” first, then you may recognize a couple of familiar faces in “Fucking Bastards” of the atrocity paving duo of Arturo and Guti Gutierrez, played by José Luís Tolosa and Manuel Rodriguez. Tolosa tall stature, wide, sinister grin, and antsy movements perfects Arturo’s wildly tormenting behavior as the collected, but not also cool and calm, head of the family. Then, there’s Guty, the clearly deranged imbecile delighted to follow Arturo’s direction and take verbal abuse times infinite as long as he gets to tenderize, fillet, and serve up guests for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. Rodriguez plays a derived goof that’s nothing really to note and write home about in his goon and goof performance that does support Arturo’s more sophisticated role as a deviant duo. While “Spanish Chainsaw Massacre” inundated viewers with extended family member of maniacs, “Fucking Bastards” starts out with slow with select immediate relations, such as their veiled and grunting grandmother played by Motosierra himself. The Gutierrez family’s pilgrim victims come in pairs. The main hapless marks are Richie and Lucia, played by Ricardo Pastor and Miriam Larragay and who both went on to have a new role in Motosierra’s “Spanish Chainsaw Massacre,” are suitable enough saps to be slaughtered by their own dimwittedness by ignoring that little voice inside their heads screaming at them to run for the hills upon meeting Arturo and Guti. Pastor and Larragay, compared to Tolosa and Rodriguez, are satisfying normal pilgrims without life infractions, without ulterior motives, and with nothing other than the backpacks on their back on what should have been a simple hike to pay respects to St. James and God, making their detour-to-death that much more nihilistic and grotesque. Sonia Ayala, Pedro García Oliva, Xima Perpinyá Mira, Marino, Yolanda Berenguer, Raúl Darío Gandoy, Jaime Martínez Moltó, and Jaime Martínez Moltó round out the cast.

By all means, “Fucking Bastards” is no great cinematic masterpiece. With an offensive title, not one person should expect it to be a great Spanish cine, but what should be expected from the Manolito Motosierra picture is a ton of gore and a load more of offensive and garbage slopped material to flaunt to shock the casual cinema consumer or speak the niche lurid language of gore film fiends around the world. Motosierra accomplishes both as “Fucking Bastards” will disgust the weakest of stomachs and will galvanize others to glue themselves to the story to see what happens next. Those viewers excited for the kills will find the gore effects to be inconstant at best from special effects artist Ruben Vallés Guerrero who has worked the movie grade gamut from the micro-indies, such as “Fresh Flesh,” to moderately budgeted films like “Down a Dark Path,” starring Uma Thurman (“Kill Bill”), and “A Monster Calls” with Sigourney Weaver (“Alien”) and Liam Neeson (“Darkman”). The Motosierra picture became a jumping point for Guerrero to show off his effects skills and delivers on some Tom Savini-inspired hand chopping and leg slicing but in the same breath also approves the use of an augmented plastic baby, with non-lifelike stiff arms and legs, in the bashing of a pregnant woman to force deliver. Whether due to limited funds, or the content was too shocking overall, or out of respect for depicting infant children in hugely Catholic culture, the scene sorely cheapens the already shoddy, low-budget production with artificial appearances. Refreshing is not a term I would say defines Manolito Motosierra’s “Fucking Bastards” but there’s a sense of unassuming relief from the lack of pretense because from front cover to end credits, you know exactly what type of vulgarity to expect.

Coming right in as spine number 69 on Wild Eye Releasing’s Wild & Extreme label, “Fucking Bastards” offers its sadistic viewing pleasure onto DVD home video. Presented in an open matte widescreen 1.78:1 aspect ratio, the feature is housed on a lower storage format, likely a DVD 5, that suffers tremendous compression pockmarks, such as smoothed out textures, blotchy-pixelated patches, banding, and contrast issues. Video presentation is watchable and not a terrible eyesore but definitely not the pretty picture around with a good portion of the issues stemming from commercial grade equipment. The Spanish language Stereo 2.0 audio tracks varies in dialogue levels, leaving depth unaccounted for and very little in range value as there’s not much of an ambient arrangement. Though varied, dialogue is clean and clear with English subtitles that have some synch/timing issues. There were a few occurrences where the subtitles on flashed and vanished in an instant. The English subs are also severely consolidated with characters’ throwing out much more than what is being translated…trust me, I know enough Spanish to tell. Bonus features only included the theatrical trailer plus other Wild Eye previews which, in my opinion, are worth checking out. No dialogue, just impressively edited, impressively scored, make-you-want-to-check-it-out handful of trailers that include “Death to the Ten Commandments,” “Gore Grind,” and “The Thrill of a Kill.” Stay tuned for an after credits bonus scene that displays the horrors of the Gutierrez children. The exterior features include a clear DVD snapper with a photoshop filtered act of asphyxiation on the front cover while the inside reveals a reverse cover of a screen grab of one of torturous moments of the story. The Wild Eye release of the film is unrated, has a runtime of just over an hour at 63 minutes, and is region free. Get your gonzo gore on with Manolito Motosierra’s humble beginnings in “Fucking Bastards” that could be considered the Rob Zombie’s Firefly family of Spain.

Those “F**king Bastards” on DVD at Amazon.com