​Ahhhhh, Dune (2021).
 
Where do I begin?
 
Ugh.
 
I’ve often argued that Frank Herbert’s Dune is one of those elusive properties that just doesn’t lend itself to cinematic adaptations.
 
Now, haters, calm down: I’m not saying that the work can’t be adapted to the big or small screens because that’s already happened to my count twice – David Lynch’s version in 1984 as well as the Syfy-produced miniseries in from 2000.  Both took somewhat differing approaches to the source material.  Both have been acknowledged for their worth with a measure of accolades, nominations, and trophies.  And both have managed against the odds to build respective cult audiences by having translated Herbert’s big ideas about spice and those who would control it into convincing spectacle in a manner that interpreted the material (“interpreted” being the key word here).
 
Still, ideas that work cerebrally – in the brain of readers – don’t always have the same kind of power visually.
 
George Lucas was one time rather famously asked about why he started telling his Star Wars space opera with the 1977 film, an installment mankind soon found out was actually ‘Part 4’ in a longer saga.  (I’ll dispense with the whole “did he plan 6 films or 9 films?” debate because it really doesn’t matter here.)  His answer was – and I’m paraphrasing – that all of the really fun stuff happens in the Original Trilogy.  Expanding on it, he explained that the first three parts would be focused more on political skullduggery and galactic machinations; and he felt that audiences might not be ready for those ideas when he could instead deliver a much more traditional space Western for mass consumption.  So he started there, built an audience, and then went back to tell the rest of the story.
 
As that’s the established chronology for releasing his films the way he did, Lucas clearly understood – as a storyteller – that there was something irreplaceable about characters being thrown into visible, understandable conflict as opposed to the vast information dump that takes place in Denis Villeneuve’s 2021 adaptation of Dune.  There are only tinkerings with establishing the vastness of Herbert’s world, and yet because there’s so much volume to it the introduced lead characters – namely Paul Atreides (played by Timothée Chalamet) and Lady Jessica Atreides (Rebecca Ferguson) – end up feeling more like props to the wide, wide universe instead of people an audience are supposed to be interested in for the next 180 minutes.
 
In other words, imagine that George Lucas wanted the audience to know an extensive summary of what took place in Star Wars episodes I, II, and III at the start of A New Hope.  How could he possibly accomplish this while also tugging at your heartstrings over Luke Skywalker’s anguish of being told to “wait another year” to go off and join the Imperial Academy?  Is it more important that you identify with the Empire and the Rebellion’s shared history, or did he want you to join our intrepid youth on an adventure far, far away?  I don’t have to think long and hard about that question at all, but Villeneuve’s construct here tried to have the best of both worlds, biting off far more than he could chew than was (perhaps) narratively possible with Dune as this cut presents.
 
In contrast, what did I learn about Paul Atreides, this universe’s young hero?
​

I learned he’s a student of cultures or – in the very least – he’s been fascinated with his readings on Arrakis.  (Has bookish charm really ever served any male well in filmdom?  Maybe Harry Potter, but I digress.)  I learned that he’s a bit of a mama’s boy (no disrespect intended) as the rigors of ruling a world have kept dear old dad away for much of his youth.  (The absence of a father has prompted him to seek out relationships with men who’ve served his father, warriors like Jason Momoa’s ‘Duncan Idaho.’)  And I learned that he’s inherited the ways of the Jedi like his mother before … scratch that … he’s inherited the mystical powers of the Bene Gesserit, apparently meaning he can see into the future.  (There’s a bit more analysis I’m sure a Dune scholar could do, but I’ll leave it there as I’m really only interested with Paul’s intro.)
 
For all intents and purposes, I thought Paul came across largely as a moody yet good-hearted kid; but because there’s so very much more going on in his lineage it’s hard to dismiss the fact that he’s also presented as Christ-like very early in the film.  Even the Fremen – Arrakis’ native people – see the boy as a spiritual figure.  Villeneuve’s script quickly discounts this, insisting that they’d likely attributed such status on the villainous Harkonnens – but there’s no mistaking that Paul is not some everyman’s farmboy who would undertake the hero’s quest to become the galaxy’s last, best hope.  From the outset, he’s not just different but he’s way different – special, gifted, royal, genetically superior – and therein might lie Dune’s biggest problem: audiences just can’t relate to him.
 
As others have observed, Dune is an intellectual property difficult to talk about except for people who are already familiar with it.  I think this is not only true but also I believe it can be used to justify why audiences have never widely embraced the previous two iterations: Paul is a God figure – that’s certainly how he evolves in that universe – and we’re just ordinary Jacks and Jills.  We don’t identify with gods, so we’re already separated from them emotionally.  This doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy their stories; after all, the Bible is one of mankind’s biggest and longest running bestsellers … but we flock to it for reasons that are immeasurably different than why we vicariously experience narrative fiction.
 
Paul means little to me.  Luke?  I get Luke.  I want to be Luke.  I’ll fly the Death Star trench with him, and I’ll gladly join him on Dagobah for secret Jedi training, or I’d even stand shoulder-to-shoulder in a blazing lightsaber battle with Emperor Palpatine if Luke asked me to.
 
But … Paul?
 
He’s Christlike … so what does he need me for?
 
Now, categorically, none of this lessens the strengths of what director Villeneuve accomplishes visually.  Clearly, he’s immersed himself in these worlds, and he’s spared no investor’s expense to bring them to life on the screen.  He’s taken the wide, open, endless desert seas of Arrakis and made them visual poetry – certainly real enough for fans of this franchise to enjoy again and again, much like Marvel fans flock to their superhero yarns for endless repeats.  He’s given breath to the political machinations of a galaxy that really only existed before in Herbert’s series of books in such a way that I’m sure folks will be reminded of Peter Jackson’s The Lord Of The Rings and HBO’s Game Of Thrones adaptations.  These ships and vehicles are unlike anything many have ever seen before, and I’m convinced these production designs will become influential in the years and decades ahead for other filmmakers who want to tackle similar challenges with the kind of scale employed here.
 
But for all those strengths, I still found this Dune a bit hollow.
 
There are moments that work, and they’re unsurprisingly the times when our cast of characters are finally thrown into some jeopardy.  Once Hell breaks out?  That’s when Dune rises.  Since that doesn’t happen until the last third of a nearly three-hour picture, I’m expected to absorb two hours of set-up for a relatively small return on investment.  Momoa shines here, though his contribution is pretty slim; and Ferguson gives a performance that tried to ground audiences into the relationship she shares with her destined child.  For what it’s worth, Oscar Issac as ‘Duke Leto Atreides’ never quite worked for me, seeming a bit too young for such an esteemed position in the galaxy; but I did appreciate the effort.  Still, lacking any real emotional connection to these characters, it all ended up being small moments in some very good CGI.
 
Alas, the picture ends with a perfunctory cliffhanger, though a not entirely successful one.  Knowing where this story was heading, I was aghast that it ended just when it was all getting good.  Given that neither Warner Bros. nor Legendary Pictures have greenlit a sequel, this may end up being the most unsatisfying cinematic relationship for genre fans since director Ralph Bakshi left audiences on the precipice of all-out war with his 1978 unfinished adaptation of The Lord Of Rings … and I still haven’t forgiven United Artists for that.

-- EZ

The name of Peter Scolari isn't a big one, certainly not within the genre circle.

Essentially, Scolari's biggest public portrait was of his comic work paired up alongside critical darling Tom Hanks in the fondly remembered cross-dressing comedy Bosom Buddies from the 1980's.  His career took off from there, and an incredible assortment of television work followed.

The actor did build a resume light on Science Fiction and Fantasy credentials, and there are a few roadstops he took along the way worthy of mentioning.  He enjoyed a role in an episode of the late 80's incarnation of Rod Serling's The Twilight Zone.  In 1993, he turned up working in the Horror/SciFi release Ticks for Republic Pictures.  1994 saw him as a guest star aboard an episode of Lois & Clark: The New Adventures Of Superman.  In 1995, he turned his voice in for good work aboard the popular animated property of its day, Gargoyles.  But it wasn't until 1997 when TV put the actor back to good use as a lead aboard the small screen incarnation of Honey, I Shrunk The Kids (1997-2000).  The problem likely brought the star increased attention from a younger group of viewers, and I'd imagine he was thankful for the opportunity to play inventor 'Wayne Szalinski' for Walt Disney Television.

Alas, an end awaits every one of us, and word reached the Information Superhighway that he passed after a two-year struggle with cancer.  We'll always have his work to remember him by.  Prayers go out to Scolari's friends and family.

As always, thanks for reading.

​-- EZ

​​I’ve often agreed with folks who’ve suggested that the beauty of truly appreciating art is that each of us gets to ‘take’ whatever message we want from it.  Largely, this happens because none of us sees the world from the same set of filters or point-of-view.  We each have different pasts, and these pasts are filled with events that showed us something.  Each of us has an upbringing, an education, and a moral code that we’ve accumulated along the way; and these resulting filters cause us to interpret things differently.  Because we see in a different way, we typically find different messages in art.
 
This was best demonstrated to me all the way back in grade school.  One morning – while our class was preparing for what we were told was a ‘pop quiz’ – we were all focused on getting out our notebooks (as instructed) when the teacher from a neighboring class marched into our room, shouted out a sentence or two about something in the cafeteria (honestly, it escaped me), held up a toy clicker and clicked it three times, and then exited.  Next, our teacher instructed us to write down exactly what happened.  Everything we saw and heard.  Lo and behold, this event WAS the pop quiz!
 
A bit confused, I sat there for a moment, getting my bearings, and then I started to write.  I jotted down how I was doing as instructed when I was surprised by a guest who clicked something three times and then left.  We were given five minutes, and I probably took only one or two.  I even tried running the memory over in my head (quickly) to try to figure out what she said, but I couldn’t decipher any word other than ‘cafeteria.’  All that truly stuck with me was that it was a teacher, she had a clicker, and I counted three clicks.
 
Where am I going with this?
 
Well, you’d be surprised at how many of my peers couldn’t remember what was said exactly, either.  Some of the students spent a paragraph talking about what the intruder was wearing; such a thought never even occurred to me.  And I was surprised by the number of classmates who thought they heard five clicks instead of three!  That couldn’t be!  I was sure there were only three!
 
Obviously, some of this is based on perception: how well did I hear the event, how close was I to it when it took place, how well could I see it, and so on and so forth.  As it turned out, folks closer to the door were better with visual details, and those of us further back were better recalling the specifics of sound.  But the point behind the entire lesson – so far as the Illinois educational system was concerned – was that not every person who watches something necessarily sees the same thing.  Thus, our teacher proved in a rather simple fashion that there is value in the opinions of others: not everything taught will mean the same thing, and not everything viewed will have the same impact.
 
The point I make here is that a film like The Incredible Shrinking Man is – in short – gob-smackingly brilliant in delivering one man’s story … but I’ll bet there are dozens of different lessons that can be gleaned from a single viewing.
​

​(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging: “Six months after being exposed to a mysterious radiation cloud, suburban everyman Scott Carey finds himself becoming smaller … and smaller … and smaller – until he’s left to fend for himself in a world in which ordinary cats, mousetraps, and spiders pose a mortal threat, all while grappling with a diminishing sense of himself.”
 
With only a running time of 81 minutes, one might think a film like The Incredible Shrinking Man had little depth … but he’d be categorically wrong.  In fact, I could make a good case for the film being one of the most thought-provoking Science Fiction films ever.  Much of this is owed to the fact it’s an entirely relatable experience – what would you do if you were trapped in the same set of circumstances?  But where other flicks build a reputation on their visuals, Shrinking Man pairs its scenes with ideas.  It’s chocked full of symbolism, and all of it is focused to convey not only a good story but also an expanse of grand storytelling.  Don’t get me wrong: the visuals are outstanding – clearly some of the best of its era – but they all serve to reinforce the classic struggle of man versus … well … himself.
 
Yes, our everyman Carey (played convincingly by the underrated Grant Williams) puts his faith in science to find a treatment for what ails him; but isn’t it science that put him in this very predicament in the first place?  Over the years, many talking about the film have touched on that dastardly radioactive cloud from the film’s set-up as being the cause of his condition; yet if you’re watching closely you know that Carey lived six months without suffering any ill effects from the said exposure.  That’s because screenwriters Richard Matheson and Richard Alan Simmons cleverly inserted another possible catalyst (an incident involving noxious insecticides) that very well may have been the triggering event.  Why was this a smart decision?  Well, how many regular folks run the risk of exposure to radiation?  I suspect the numbers are small.  But what if the cause of this unprecedented condition was owed to an unknown combination of chemicals?  This is exactly the kind of plot development that gets a person thinking not only about Carey’s life but his own as well.
 
Very soon, the loss of a regular wardrobe becomes the least of our protagonist’s worries.  He’s suddenly plunged into a world of self-doubt wherein he questions every facet of his life – his health, his sanity, his role as a provider, and even his abilities as a faithful partner to his loving wife Louise (Randy Stuart).  Once he’s reduced to half his normal size, he likely can’t please her sexually; and this added stress only forces him into the arms of Clarice (April Kent), the short person who’s made a career in circus sideshows.  Truth be told, the film never shows that their relationship is consummated, but it’s strongly implied.  (Curse you, 1950’s film censors!)  But his world comes crashing down again when he shrinks even further, eventually taking up residence inside a dollhouse for comfort and safety.  The man of the world of our opening – the vacationer who had the world at his fingertips – has been reduced to little more than the size of a child’s plaything.
 
What’s the point of all these diminishing returns?
 
The beauty of art is that the power of interpretation is left up to those who view it.
​

​Screenwriter Matheson underwent his own crisis at the time of penning the novel upon which his screenplay was based.  He struggled privately with producing a body of work that would make raising a family possible, and there isn’t any doubt that the questions of his own self-worth are peppered throughout the script.  Others might suggest that Shrinking Man is little more of a cinematic fear response to the public’s rising concerns over the growth of atomic and nuclear power; as that was a common influence on other Science Fiction films of the 1950’s and 1960’s (many of them involving gigantic radioactive bugs), that reality likely ran through the minds of all involved in its production.  Still, academics have waxed on about how Shrinking Man’s central message – even that wrapped up in its title – is about how mankind’s role in the universal was progressively being marginalized.  By then, it was household knowledge that the universe was expanding (astronomer Edwin Hubble said as much in 1929); as the universe grew, the amount of space mankind filled in it kept declining.  This, too, is a legitimate lesson from a film too rich for a single meaning.
 
Any and all morals are acceptable, and that’s because veteran director Jack Arnold knew more than a thing or two about constructing SciFi with a message.  His 1953 It Came From Outer Space – based on a story by the legendary author Ray Bradbury, no less – kind of broke the established Hollywood mold as it applied to Science Fiction.  Lesser (or more routine) films pitted aliens against Earthlings in a race for survival, and they almost always had regular men and women coming out triumphant.  What purpose did Arnold’s aliens serve?  Were they invaders?  Were they expansionists?  Were they occupiers?  No.  Honestly, they just crashed here, found us uninteresting, and wanted to go home.  Imagine that?  We and our big blue ball weren’t really interesting enough to warrant their attention.  They saw that, they said so, and they just wanted to go home.  Talk about your shrinking self-esteem!
 
Still not buying it?
 
Well, his This Island Earth (1956) resembled conventional Science Fiction a bit more.  In this adventure, an alien species comes to our world with the specific mission of enlisting our support in their winning a losing war.  Instead of coming here to wipe us out – as tends to so often be the case in far too many genre releases – these aliens needed us to help them avoid their extinction.  (I suspect this film probably did more for our morale than It Came From Outer Space.)  Again, for clarity’s sake, the Metalunans of the picture only wanted our help.  The fight for survival was theirs, and they were only looking for an ally.  Why, this just didn’t happen in Science Fiction!  SciFi was about blasters and spaceships and aliens who melt our brains!  How can this happen?  Granted, the picture takes a turn in its second half, perhaps succumbing to the more traditional recipe, but it’s still a film refreshing for audiences because they’re delivered something other than the run-of-the-mill extraterrestrial exploitation that makes up so many space sagas.  (For the record, Arnold’s work on the picture is uncredited, but scholars have confirmed the director’s stewardship of it.)
 
While these are notable contributions from a man known largely as a studio workhorse, Arnold’s legacy in Science Fiction doesn’t end there.  He brought both Creature From The Black Lagoon (1954) and Return Of The Creature (1955) to the silver screen.  In 1955, he also delivered Tarantula – one of the better giant radioactive bug movies mentioned above – to crawling life.  In 1955 and 1956, he brought four episodes of the innovative Science Fiction Theater to television.  1958’s The Space Children and Monster On The Campus were a bit more routine as studio genre entries, and he closed out his 1950’s with a pair of episodes of the short-lived World Of Giants … a television show that took him back into the realm of shrunken man.
 
There are more entries in his career in Science Fiction and Fantasy, but I think I’ve made my point: Arnold was a pioneer when it came to developing and delivering stories about far more than just monsters, science gone bad, and spaceships.  His body of work ably demonstrates that SciFi is the realm of ideas … and Shrinking Man was always bigger than Carey’s ultimate Fate would allow.ling life.  In 1955 and 1956, he brought four episodes of the innovative Science Fiction Theater to television.  1958’s The Space Children and Monster On The Campus were a bit more routine as studio genre entries, and he closed out his 1950’s with a pair of episodes of the short-lived World Of Giants … a television show that took him back into the realm of shrunken man.
 
There are more entries in his career in Science Fiction and Fantasy, but I think I’ve made my point: Arnold was a pioneer when it came to developing and delivering stories about far more than just monsters, science gone bad, and spaceships.  His body of work ably demonstrates that SciFi is the realm of ideas … and Shrinking Man was always bigger than Carey’s ultimate Fate would allow.
​

The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957) is produced by Universal International.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being handled through the Criterion Collection.  As for the technical specifications?  This Blu-ray release boasts an all-new 4K digital restoration, and the film looks surprisingly good despite its age.  It’s not uncommon for a bit of grain from time-to-time if for no other reason than the fact that this was shot on film, but I thought this was a very clear picture from start-to-finish.

​As for the special features?  As is very common with Criterion releases, this one is very good: worthy of note is the examination of the film’s pioneering special effects (which hold up quite good considering all of this is decades before CGI was even a dream).  There’s also a very informative chat with screenwriter Richard Matheson’s son (also Richard) who gives a fabulous ‘time and place’ recounting of his father’s life and experiences that influenced his work; in short, it’s quite possibly one of the best of its kind I’ve had the privilege to see.  There’s an interesting conversation between director Joe Dante and Dana Gould; they don’t bring much new to light (especially if you’ve watched the other shorts), but it’s clear both are fans of director Arnold and screenwriter Matheson.  There’s an archival interview with Arnold that’s a fantastic find as he specifically addresses the work of bringing the film to the silver screen despite some studio reservations.  And I’d be a fool if I didn’t mention the commentary track: film historian Tom Weaver and horror-music expert David Schecter sound off on a lot of ‘little things’ (snicker snicker), but – being entirely honest – I want to give it another listen as my first impression was that they focused on some trivial aspects – the hardcore nuts and bolts of a feature production – that ends up a bit dry for me personally.  I would also want to add that my 4K UltraHD had an issue with the soundtracks for two of special features: I had to go into my player’s control menu and change the sound settings from “automatic” to the more general playback in order to hear the folks speaking.  This happens from time-to-time with these 4K disks, but it’s a minor inconvenience.
 
Highest recommendation possible.

​Without a doubt, The Incredible Shrinking Man stands as one of the greatest Science Fiction films of the 1950’s, and it deservedly should stand side-by-side with such heavyweights as The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951), The Thing From Another World (1951), Them! (1954), Invasion Of The Body Snatchers (1956), and Forbidden Planet (1956) in any library.  Though its story is clearly grounded in the anti-Atomic sensibilities of its era, there’s still a timelessness to the central idea of a man being overwhelmed and surpassed by a world he, in part, helped create.  Its ending might seem a bit too philosophical, too spiritual, or too existential for most viewers, but I’d argue it still homes in on an age-old SciFi conceit wherein man confronts his place in the universe and is humbled as a consequence of the resulting epiphany.  A work of genius.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Criterion provided me with a Blu-ray of The Incredible Shrinking Man by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, of form influenced my opinion of it.

Many, many, many moons ago -- back in the days when yours truly was in college -- I served as a disc jockey aboard a college radio station.

For four frivolous years, I spun some tunes out over the miserably low-wattage air waves and largely made fun of the whole collegiate experience.  I wrote and taped my own commercials.  Occasionally, I did some live skits to entertain the listeners, of which even a few of the institution's professors were very complimentary.  It was something I had an awful lot of fun doing, so much so that I've occasionally toyed with the idea of setting up my own series of SciFi shorts on Youtube.com, Rumble.com, or any other platform.  Mind you: I don't think I was particularly good at it; however, it was just a lot of fun for me personally.

A few months ago, I registered my profile on a platform where podcasters and guests can come together to kinda/sorta market themselves to one another.

Honestly, I didn't figure anything would much stem from it.  The registration was something a fellow blogger had encouraged me to do as I think his hopes were that it might be another avenue to increase SciFiHistory.Net's presence on the World Wide Web.  I've promoted a few programs with SciFi ShoutOuts, and those notices have drawn some attention to the site; and after looking into doing my own kind of lowbrow programming I realized I probably don't -- at present -- have the time and resources to do one.  It takes a lot of work and a helluva lot of commitment, and if you want to do it right it takes money.  That's something the household is always 'measuring,' so I opted instead to focus on the blog and my daily citations.

Lo and behold, I have had an offer to come on a program and talk about Science Fiction and Fantasy, so I'm thrilled to announce that at 8 pm EST on October 27th I'll be appearing with host Shawn Murphy on his Above The Bar podcast.  (I've had a few offers in the past to come on shows, but circumstances have never aligned to make it possible -- for any number of reasons.)  As I'm a podcasting virgin (ahahahaha), I'm expecting that I'll flub up a bit, though I'm quite certain Shawn can wean me through the process.

I'm going to throw some links in here below for those of you who might be interested in tuning in to make a fool of myself live (ahahahaha); otherwise, it looks like these various channels do allow Shawn to post them as recordings for review at a later date.  Interested parties are obviously encouraged to check out not only my visit but also everything else Shawn's posted up there.  It looks like he's an eclectic host who's open to chatting with folks big and small all across a spectrum of interesting and timely topics.

Above The Bar's Twitch Channel
Above The Bar's YouTube.com Channel
Apple Podcast (Live) Link
The Above The Bar Podcast Facebook Page

Warning: I'll probably repost this blurb a time or two more before my appearance in order to help out with promoting both SciFiHistory.Net and Shawn's program.  Any complaints?  Meh.  I've no time for those.  Keep 'em to yourself!

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

-- EZ

​(First NOTE: Readers, I’m copying and pasting the intro from my review on Demons I into today’s review for Demons 2.  I’m doing this because it’s essential informational set-up to understanding my take on producer/director Dario Argento’s unique films.)
 
If you’ve never heard the name Dario Argento, then let’s get some introductions out-of-the-way first.
 
Regarded by some as the ‘Italian Hitchcock,’ Argento was born in Rome in 1940.  The son of film producer Salvatore Argento, Dario would rise to prominence in international film circles as a writer, director, and producer of what many would say are (ahem!) sometimes bloody, sometimes gory suspense thrillers.  While it would be accurate to suggest that the filmmaker’s body of work revolves around depiction of violence both real and surreal, I think far too many critics have dismissed his efforts as ‘cheap’ because it’s easy to complain about excesses when a particular title may not have been your cup of tea from the outset: Argento’s audiences tend to know what they’re getting into, and they’ve returned for repeat engagements again and again for the visceral delights the storyteller provided.
 
Typically, Argento was regarded as a master purveyor of Giallo-style films.  (Again – for the uniformed – Giallo films are identified as features which revolved around a mystery – often times a murder or series of them – and the story is punctuated with heavy graphic detail, uncharacteristic camera angles, and bizarre musical arrangements.)  These tales could be dramatic in construction, or they could lean heavily on the suspense, but they usually had a stiff backbone of horror and a steady outpouring of narrative twists that all inevitably lead to the spilling of (you guessed it) blood.  Giallo flicks generally distinguish themselves by employing buckets and buckets of that crucial bodily fluid, and no expense was spared in putting plenty of it up on the silver screen.
 
That said, I think it easy to conclude that Argento’s films are an acquired taste: having seen a good handful of Italian horror films, I’ve no problem admitting that while I’m no fan I can appreciate the amount of work that (at times) went into bringing some of the most bizarre carnage imaginable to flickering life.  So when I was offered the chance to review a screener for the filmmaker’s kinda/sorta signature franchise – Demons (a two-film entity) – I really couldn’t pass it up.  I knew what I was getting into, and though I found the affair a bit uneven I’m still glad for the opportunity.
 
Below are my thoughts on Demons 2 (1986).  The short skinny is that I enjoyed it more than I did the first installment, but that’s not without a few reservations on how these two films – presented as sequels – really work better as independent properties as opposed to the presented continuation.  For that to have worked effectively … well, you’ll understand in a moment …
 
(Second NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging:
“A televised horror film spells doom for the residents of a luxury high-rise apartment, as demons are unleashed through the TV screen at a young girl’s birthday party.  As more and more residents are infected and transformed into blood-thirsty demons, a young couple fights to survive as they try to escape Hell on Earth.”
 
Honestly, films like Demons 2 aren’t really designed for folks to make all that much of.
 
In many cases, Horror films from the 1980’s were meant to be carnival attractions – enjoyed while you were trapped in the moment – and then pretty much discarded … until the next time you decided you were in the mood for another round.  You’d put this in the VCR (ask your parents, kids); you’d pretty much have forgotten many of the big and little moments; and it would seem anew for the purposes of scaring you back “in the moment” you had previously enjoyed.  As I’ve mentioned in reviews before, films like this were shown endlessly in fraternity and sorority houses; and I can remember a solid handful of them even getting screenings with me and my friends in high school.  Such was the nature of disposable filmmaking.
 
Still, there were some pictures that were obviously produced better than others, and Argento’s two-fer Demons 1 and Demons 2 certainly deserves to be rediscovered if not from time-to-time then certainly by fans of 80’s cinema, Horror, and Fantasy.  While the plots are admittedly threadbare, there’s an obvious love of what they’ve captured by the creatives and the artisans who pieced this together.  Much of what I said in my review of Demons 1 regarding the franchise’s technical prowess is just as true here: the practical special effects and make-up craftsmen achieve some incredible work here, giving the flick a look maybe not quite “all of its own” but one worthy of study.
 
My gripes with the sequel aren’t all that groundbreaking, but they’re worthy of mention.
​

Demons 1 was a tale told of a film within a film: residents trapped in a movie theatre were transformed into their collective nightmare by way of a physical movie prop that infected a viewer, and all of the inevitable transformations descended from there.  Demons 2 transports that concept to a televised docudrama that purports to ‘fictionalize’ a follow-up to the devastation of the first film, and somehow – we’re never told – this broadcast achieves a life of its own, breaking through the ‘fourth wall’ and contaminating a young woman celebrating her birthday.  While it’s easy to suspend disbelief and accept the premise that a tainted prop set all of the bloody events in motion for the first film, I found the second’s hypothesis just plain silly.  Yes, it’s Horror, and all of it’s made up, but (curse you, brain!) I do like my narratives to either make sense or, minimally, present something plausible as a catalyst for the bloodshed.  What the writing crew came up with here as its set-up just didn’t work for me.
 
However, Demons 2 makes better use of its characters and its high-rise setting.
 
George (played by David Edwin Knight) and Hannah (the fetching Nancy Brilli) are residents of the film’s exclusive property, and circumstances gone awry separate the young man from his expectant wife when all Hell breaks loose.  They’re both trapped within the building – she within her apartment and he stranded in an elevator – and they spend the time apart both fighting for their lives and trying to get back together.  It’s precisely this added character detail – small but convincingly crafted – that made Demons 2 mean more for me.  While the first film was populated with characters thrown together and trying to make the best of their Apocalypse, this installment had a tad more foundation with people already in a shared relationship – both the couple as well as with other tenants – so I found it easier to connect with them.
 
This isn’t to excuse any problems that Demons 2 creates along the way, and there are plenty.  We’re constantly treated to folks transforming into monsters and yet we never saw the bite or the scratch; and we just have to accept it and move along.  Furthermore, a few of the cast from the first film returned for the second; but they’re cast in entirely different roles, having (ahem) formerly died in this particular cinematic universe!  Sure, I get that maybe these folks were already contracted, but seeing a familiar face I recognized as dead pulled me out of the moment on more than one occasion.  It was a calculated risk, and I can’t help but wonder if this cinematic world would’ve been better served with finding other actors and actresses.
 
But as for the usual buckets of blood?
 
Yes.  Demons 2 delivers … and it even created a Gremlin-style addition (with no explanation as to how the demon evolved) that served a nice, bloody distraction.
 
Demons 2 (1986) is produced by DACFILM Rome.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by Synapse Films.  As for the technical specifications?  This 1986 shocker looks and sounds incredible; no expense has been spared in bringing this to glorious life for an all-new generation of horror fans.  As for the special features?  Wow!  This 4K Ultra HD Blu-ray boasts a jaw-dropping assortment of behind-the-scenes goodness including multiple versions (not all that uncommon to the era for international releases), a bevy of (short) retrospective documentaries, and a few nifty artworks that fans of the feature will likely treasure if not frame and hang on the wall … namely a replica of the Metropol ticket from the film itself.  Nice touch, Synapse!  Nice touch, indeed

​Recommended.  Truth be told, I enjoyed Demons 2 more than I did its original, and that’s probably owed to the fact that – despite being the same functional set-up – there was just a bit more story associated to the characters, drama, and setting.  This made it easier for me to appreciate their dire circumstances, as well as ‘stay in the moment’ for the thrills, chills, and spills.  Was there a modicum of less emphasis on gore?  Could be.  Still, it’s all about the scares, and the Argento-produced feature served up enough.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a 4K UltraHD Blu-ray Special Limited Edition of Demons I & II by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

"Would you not bury a friend for power?"

Sweet mother of dragons!  I've had some friends who turned out to be a little less than so over the years, but -- to my knowledge -- I've never had one bury me.  But it sounds like there are some very, very dark things afoot somewhere in the literary world ...

Our intrepid contributor (and general Space Princess) Claire is back again this week with an author interview, this time spending some quality time with Las Vegas native Kamaya Tarpley, a creative genius in her own right who has managed to bring not one, not two, but an incredible eleven novels to life as an independent storyteller.

And the quote from above?

​That's a little 'something something' Tarpley penned herself from her latest release, Witches Of Ravenswood, which is available for purchase on ye old Amazon.com.

"I went self-published because unfortunately a lot of the agents and publishers who claimed to represent BIPOC authors were very unsupportive in having ethnic main characters," Tarpley says about the how's and the why's of her personal journey.  About her ambitions, she adds, "I chose to learn this craft every way possible including creating covers, editing properly, etc. It takes a lot of dedication and humility to learn new things. We always want to be right about things, but there is no shame in getting knowledge, especially if you want to produce quality work."

Important links:

Claire on Twitter
Claire's website

Kamaya Tarpley on Twitter
Kamaya's Amazon.com profile page
Kamaya's website

​We here at SciFiHistory.Net are huge supporters of creative voices, and we encourage interested readers to check out both what Claire has to offer as well as the talent she interviews.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

-- EZ

I knew I’d recognized the name of director Terence Young from somewhere.
 
A quick read of his profile on IMDB.com clarifies it: he was the man that producer Albert Broccoli hired to direct the very first James Bond picture, Dr. No (1962).  Apparently, his work was good enough to have him back not once but twice, and he delivered both From Russia With Love (1963) and Thunderball (1965) to the silver screen.  Though he went on from the Bond franchise to direct sixteen other features, none of them achieved the kind of recognition given the spy property.  Though I’ve not found it confirmed in reading this morning, it looks like the decision to move on from Bond was his own; since he passed in 1994, there’s no way of knowing (at this point) whether that was a solid career move or not.
 
1948’s Corridor Of Mirrors serves as the director’s debut motion picture.  Though it wasn’t her first film, actress Edana Romney is billed as being ‘introduced’ to audiences with the feature; and she’s also credited as having worked on its screenplay, which apparently owes original inspiration to the novel of the same name (by Chris Massie).  Interestingly enough, screen legend Christopher Lee also makes his first cinema appearance (in a small role), and he’s the only one to go on from this to great notoriety.
 
I bring up these firsts not so much because they’re trivial, but I can’t help but wonder if so much inexperience resulted in Corridor’s narrative flaws.  It isn’t a bad film – it’s actually quite good at times, though it stumbles through sequences a bit too long – but I thought it struggled to find a singular rhythm with which to tell its central story, one of potentially star-crossed lovers who keep finding themselves across time and yet can’t quite seem to make their relationship work.  Is theirs a shared destiny?  Or are they somehow cursed by Fate?  The film never quite answers clearly, and I wonder if the nebulousness was by design?
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging: “Eric Portman plays an artist obsessed with the past.  He surrounds himself with Renaissance artwork, infatuated with the notion that he and his lover are reincarnations of the lovers in a centuries-old painting.  Portman’s delusions have deadly consequences.”
 
Warning: film scripts inspired by novels rarely get it right, and I’ve always argued this is because what makes a book memorable isn’t always what makes a film equally mesmerizing.  Ideas that work in one’s head don’t always translate cleanly to film, and a less talented storyteller runs the risk of alienating not one potential audience for a feature but two – the literary and the moviegoers.  Think of it as a tale of two cities.
 
At times, Corridor Of Mirrors feels like it’s trying to lift symbolism from one medium and translate it into visual imagery.  Namely, Paul Mangin has built himself a veritable castle that feels lifted from centuries ago and transported to 1940’s Europe; and the Corridor from the title is an impressive set piece that secretly conceals (behind mirrored doors) faceless female mannequins all decked out in regal fashion.  Clearly, the man is obsessed with not only trying to recreate an era but also his own controlled society, one including his beloved Mifanwy (played by Romney) who will remain forever at his side exactly as he believes he remembers her from the past.  He’s convinced himself that the two of them are trapped within a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ style tragedy that can only be averted if the lady swears her love eternal to him.
 
As you might guess, that’s not quite what transpires.
​

​Despite more than a bit of routine Hollywood melodrama, Corridor works effectively much of the time, though it’s easy to see where a trim here and there would’ve advanced the story at a rate more palatable to a wider audience.  Portman is entirely believable as the film’s “fish out of water” here, imbuing his character with the elegance of a long-dead era he yearns to see brought back.  Romney, by contrast, occasionally appears a bit bereft: sometimes enchanted, sometimes confused, her Mifanwy inevitably turns away from what could be true love, though I’m not quite convinced even she knew why.  Did the excesses of Mangin’s devotion to the past truly frighten her?  Or was he merely the kind of man she didn’t imagine herself settling down with?
 
Sadly, the script – of which she’s credited as one writer – never puts a bow on some of these small points.  While there are a few hints – and viewers can draw their own conclusions based on their interpretations – I’ve always been more of a “you tell me” person because then I can legitimately react to the developments instead of force fit them into my beliefs.  Clearly, there’s a potential psychosis at play here … but Mifanwy should’ve seen that coming the minute she stepped into the man’s castle!
 
I’d be remiss if I failed to mention that Barbara Mullen practically steals the picture from its two stars in the performance of Veronica, a seemingly wayward crazy woman Mangin’s given safe haven to in his expansive estate.  Here, she serves as a kind of narrative antithesis: while Mangin remains crisply composed throughout every one of his scenes (even when faced with tragedy), Veronica appears always visibly struggling to keep it together.  Even her hair looks like it’s on the verge of exploding!  Clearly, living a life out of time has taken a toll on the woman’s psyche, and we learn before all is said and done that some folks – as Jack Nicholson once said on film – “can’t handle the truth.”
 
However, I felt inexperience played a hand in what may’ve been a lot of director Young’s thematic choices.  There isn’t much nuance in here – several sequences are, simply put, far longer than they need to be – and Romney’s skills (or lack thereof) as an actress give some moments a bit of naivety when perhaps a bit of maturity was needed.  As a consequence, the Fantasy elements here don’t appear all that fantastical, playing out more like a set of deliberate plot points when a softer touch may’ve worked better.  Portman’s work carries much of the film, and there’s a lot of risk investing so much of the story with a character who may or may not be an elegant version of Hannibal Lechter.
 
There’s no denying it’s all great to look at.  I’m just not convinced – in the end – there was all that much to think about.
 
Corridors Of Mirrors (1948) was produced by Apollo.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being handled by the reliable Cohen Media Group.  As for the technical specifications?  This newly restored print is very good indeed, and the enhanced definition certainly highlights the film’s noir inspirations.  As for the special features?  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.  Honestly, it would’ve been nice to have something here, as the finished product doesn’t quite hit the ball out of the park, if you catch my meaning from my review.
 
Mildly recommended.  Corridor Of Mirrors is a film that’s difficult to recommend if for no other reason than it kinda/sorta seems to struggle with what it ultimately wants to be.  Is it a magical and romantic Fantasy?  Is it a tragedy?  Is it a psychological examination of love gone bad?  Is it Film Noir?  Clearly the Terence Young picture grasps at an awful lot of straws, but for me it worked best when it ignored its self-perpetuating melodrama and just asked ‘What if?’  At 96 minutes, it’s too long to be an episode of Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone, but a slimmer cut would’ve made for a dynamite installment of that show … and maybe even a more coherent experience.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Cohen Media Group provided me with a Blu-ray of Corridor Of Mirrors (1948) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

-- EZ

Yes, yes, and yes: it’s another new release Tuesday … that fateful day of the week when the studios release their wares on an unsuspecting populace for general entertainment consumption!  Some interesting genre bits coming down the pike today, so let’s take a quick look into a few of them, shall we?
 
Smallville.  Ahhhh, Smallville.  Honestly, it was a show that I couldn’t get into when it aired live.  (Surprised?)  Somewhere around the time of its fifth season starting on television, I think that’s when the wifey and I went and invested some time watching the program.  We found it good enough to binge so we could catch up with it and then join it live.  I think we hung with it all the way through it’s ninth season, at which point we decided it had gone a bit too far off the rails into either straight predictability or bizarre twists on the ol’ Supes mythology that we tuned it out.  We’ve always said that we need to go and watch its final season just to see how the writers wrapped it all up.  Now that the complete series run is out on video, maybe we’ll do just that.  It’s available in stores on Blu-ray today.
 
Criterion is releasing The Incredible Shrinking Man from its library today as well.  This is a flick that I watched a few times in my youth but have never revisited now that I’m fully ripened and mature.  (Haha!)  I have some vague recollections of it, but honestly it’s a film that’s mostly lost in my memories.  A few months back, I reached out to the folks at Criterion, and they were good enough to send me a complimentary copy of this release … so I’ve my work cut out for me as I’m going to watch and pen a full review in the next few days.  Interested readers keep your eyes peeled on the MainPage.
 
Dario Argento.  I wrote a bit about the auteur yesterday (in my review of Demons, which releases on video today).  Italian Horror films aren’t for everyone – no sub-genre of a major genre ever truly is – but his films generally are (ahem) a cut above the competition.  (Snicker snicker)  I’d stop short of calling them a ‘learned experience;’ they’re just a different breed of films, though with some striking similarities to U.S. B-movies.  His Demons is worth seeing for its technical prowess – the disk also includes Demons 2 which I’ll be reviewing this week, too (short skinny: I enjoyed it much more than the first one) – but don’t look for much traditional storytelling.
 
Corridor Of Mirrors.  Hmm.  This is another of today’s releases that I’ll be penning a review over, so I won’t say much about it at this time.  I watched it yesterday (for the first time).  It’s a 1948 Fantasy than honestly is a bit more melodrama than I like, but it does offer up some incredible imagery and a few good performances.  This one comes from the reliable Cohen Media Group.  While the story is a bit uneven – maybe even surprisingly choppy – it does make a few twists and turns audiences might want to know more about.  Again, watch this space … a review will be up shortly.
 
As is always the case with New Release Tuesday, there are a few others (link to Blu-ray.com); but I don’t want to spoil all of the surprises.  I like to leave you to your own digging as I think that’s always required if you’re thinking of investing in a new flick or two.  And never forget: buyer beware!

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

​If you’ve never heard the name Dario Argento, then let’s get some introductions out-of-the-way first.
 
Regarded by some as the ‘Italian Hitchcock,’ Argento was born in Rome in 1940.  The son of film producer Salvatore Argento, Dario would rise to prominence in international film circles as a writer, director, and producer of what many would say are (ahem!) sometimes bloody, sometimes gory suspense thrillers.  While it would be accurate to suggest that the filmmaker’s body of work revolves around depiction of violence both real and surreal, I think far too many critics have dismissed his efforts as ‘cheap’ because it’s easy to complain about excesses when a particular title may not have been your cup of tea from the outset: Argento’s audiences tend to know what they’re getting into, and they’ve returned for repeat engagements again and again for the visceral delights the storyteller provided.
 
Typically, Argento was regarded as a master purveyor of Giallo-style films.  (Again – for the uniformed – Giallo films are identified as features which revolved around a mystery – often times a murder or series of them – and the story is punctuated with heavy graphic detail, uncharacteristic camera angles, and bizarre musical arrangements.)  These tales could be dramatic in construction, or they could lean heavily on the suspense, but they usually had a stiff backbone of horror and a steady outpouring of narrative twists that all inevitably lead to the spilling of (you guessed it) blood.  Giallo flicks generally distinguish themselves by employing buckets and buckets of that crucial bodily fluid, and no expense was spared in putting plenty of it up on the silver screen.
 
That said, I think it easy to conclude that Argento’s films are an acquired taste: having seen a good handful of Italian horror films, I’ve no problem admitting that while I’m no fan I can appreciate the amount of work that (at times) went into bringing some of the most bizarre carnage imaginable to flickering life.  So when I was offered the chance to review a screener for the filmmaker’s kinda/sorta signature franchise – Demons (a two-film entity) – I really couldn’t pass it up.  I knew what I was getting into, and though I found the affair a bit uneven I’m still glad for the opportunity.
 
Below are my thoughts on Demons (1985).  I’ll be penning a separate review for Demons II (1986), and readers can watch for it later this week on SciFiHistory.Net.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessarily solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging: “…a masked man offers tickets to a horror movie sneak preview at the mysterious Metropol cinema.  When a patron is scratched by a prop displayed in the theatre lobby, she transforms into the flesh-ripping demon!  One by one, the audience members mutate into horrible creatures hell-bent on destroying the world!”
 
As sometimes happens in history, a rumor travels around the world before the truth gets its pants on … and it’s inaccurate to say that Demons is entirely Dario Argento’s film.  In reality, Argento crafted the screenplay (from an original story by Dardano Sacchetti) along with others, and he produced the film; but the feature was directed Lamberto Bava.  It’s the collaboration of these creative minds that fuels much of the madness on display in both Demons and Demons II (and, yes, there is a Demons III, but that’s another story).  In giving credit where credit is due, Sacchetti’s work as a screenwriter in Italian circles is impressive, spanning four decades and nearly one hundred different screen projects.  Still, Argento’s name appears prominent in all citations regarding the film, and it’s clear that his influence gave the picture its legs at the box office of its day.
 
Now, I’ve no way of knowing where Sacchetti’s contributions start and stop, but what little narrative center there is to the affair revolves around the communal experience that is the typical moviegoer’s existence: we’re all brought together – in the dark – to watch some tale as it unspools.  What Demons does in its set-up is clever: the film-within-a-film mirrors the events of those watching it, perhaps suggesting that truth isn’t necessarily stranger than fiction but could the inevitable result of it.  It’s the classic “chicken and the egg argument” wherein no one knows which came first but we’ll each argue our position until we’re blue in the face … or dead in the aisles, as Argento might suggest.
 
Still, it’s barely accurate to suggest that Demons has a story at all: what it has is a set-up upon which so much of what follows is required, and that’s all.  Yes, there is a beginning, middle, and end; but it’s all so weakly constructed here it becomes clear that all everyone involved was interested in was getting to the gory set pieces – the metamorphosis from human to demon, the dismemberment of the various victims, etc.  Demons is the classic carnival attraction – the haunted house of mirrors you dare to enter – and little more.  Anyone telling you otherwise is simply trying to sell you a ticket.
 
In that respect, Demons functions with a kind of frenzied efficiency … well, so long as you’re not watching closely.
​

Moviegoers are somehow magically and mystically walled up inside the Metropol by thick concrete walls, though no explanation is ever offered about just when, where, and why the concrete appeared, nor how it vanished for the interspersed connecting shots when we’re following stories outside the business.  At one point, it’s suggested that the Metropol ‘has a mind of its own’ – an urban legend about a building that lures unsuspecting victims inside only to torture them endlessly; yet if that’s the case then who produced the film being shown on the Metropol’s screens and how did they know to make it so closely mirror the events that had yet to transpire in Demons’ fragile reality?  Continuity is a bit of a mess with the panicked masses running between the two (or is that three?) floors of the movie house, and just when you think they’re trapped on the ground floor they’re suddenly turning a corner on what was last shown off the balcony.
 
I suppose that’s the thing about carnival thrill rides: you’re never supposed to look at them too closely.  If you do, then you realize the emperor has no clothes, that it’s all just a construct design to scare you in the moment … and, on that front, Demons succeeds.  It isn’t meant to be taken seriously.  It’s meant to be watched, enjoyed, and forgotten … until the next time an audience puts it in to experience the same chills, spills, and thrills again.  For what it’s worth, Demons is probably the kind of horror flick you watched at the frat house that Friday night in the late 1980’s.  You know the one?  You put it in maybe once a month, and you and your friends screamed every time someone on screen was doing something immeasurably stupid?  Something so insane that you knew he was the next victim?  And rightly so … if he was that stupid to begin with!
 
The Metropol is that carnival ride.
 
Unlike other films of the era, Demons possesses some incredible craftsmanship in the practical effects department.  The creature effects – the transformations and the prosthetics – are the kinds of things now done in CGI; and the stewards here were at the top of their game.  Granted, it might look more than a bit campy by today’s standards, but for the 80’s this stuff was nothing short of fantastic.  If for no other reason, the film deserves to be seen for its technical proficiency and could be studied as an example of monster effects from a bygone era.  If you hadn’t noticed, then yes I do miss those days.
 
Demons (1985) is produced by DACFILM Rome.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by Synapse Films.  As for the technical specifications?  This 1985 shocker looks and sounds incredible; no expense has been spared in bringing this to glorious life for an all-new generation of horror fans.  As for the special features?  Wow!  This 4K Ultra HD Blu-ray boasts a jaw-dropping assortment of behind-the-scenes goodness including multiple versions (not all that uncommon to the era for international releases), a bevy of (short) retrospective documentaries, and a few nifty artworks that fans of the feature will likely treasure if not frame and hang on the wall … namely a replica of the Metropol ticket from the film itself.  Nice touch, Synapse!  Nice touch, indeed!
 
Argh.  Well, it’s RECOMMENDED, but it’s really the kind of release I’d only recommend for folks of either 80’s films, ‘vintage’ horror, and cult films because – in all honesty – I found Demons a hard film to like.  Yes, it has some truly incredible practical and in-camera special effects work, and – as a film – I think it definitely captures the state of horror for its time and place … but there’s just no story anyone can sink his teeth into … and, curse you, Dario Argento, but I do like a story to go along with my thrills, spills, and chills.  Demons is mostly production pieces linked by a central idea, and you’re encouraged to sit back and enjoy the carnival ride.  As a haunted house?  It works.  As a film?  Meh.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a 4K Ultra HD Special Limited Edition copy of Demons I & II by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

I know, I know, I know: an awful lot of people have an awful lot of love for actor Nicolas Cage.

Honestly, his career has been an awful lot of hit-or-miss with me.  Typically, I haven't enjoyed what he's done in the world of drama -- yes, I'm aware he's an award-winning actor -- but I think his work in comedies has been damn near spot on when he's been given good material.  That's the real bug for me -- the material: when he's paired up with something solid, he tends to tune in good work.  If the script just doesn't nip at my brain, then I tend to lose sight of him and anyone else in it.  That's just how I am, folks, at this ripe old age.

In any event, I do vaguely recall some of the publicity that hit the web not all that long ago regarding Prisoners Of The Ghostland (2021) when it made its round in theatres and (I believe) on streaming.  It looked mostly passable (for my tastes), though a few outlets online gave it solid marks.  I've nothing against offbeat genre properties (as clearly my day job would indicate); it's just that even an offbeat property really has to bring me something I haven't seen before, or else it just disappears quickly with all of the static.  Again, that's a right I've earned at my age.

Still, cinema presses onward like a train with no stops; and I received word just this morning that Prisoners will be available for purchase on home video well before Turkey Day.  The reliable RLJE Films notes that it'll street this November 16, 2021 for interested parties, so I'll be putting the bulk of their press release below the break to provide readers with all of the particulars.  It does look like the Steelbook edition will have a making-of featurette -- always a plus for those of us who dig that stuff -- but no commentary ... a bit of a miss if you ask me.

We'll see what happens closer to time.  I may pick this one up just for coverage's sake.  As I said, I know a few folks online who were very fond of the film.  Though it didn't look quite up my alley as for as the cineplexes go, it's the type of motion picture that generally sprouts strong legs on home video.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

-- EZ
​