Films have long made peace with exploring the results of broken familial relationships, and some of the better ones have certainly given audiences something to think about when it comes to the lasting effects of love between – say – a mother and a son.
 
Wikipedia.org reports that the incestual love between a mother and her male child is called the Jocasta Complex, named after the Greek queen from the tragedy better known as Oedipus Rex.  For those unawares, King Lauis and his queen (Jocasta) have a son that they quickly renounce due to the prophecy claiming that the king will eventually die at the boy’s hand.  Believing they can cheat fate, the two see the infant abandoned in the wild, but before death can take hold the child is found and adopted by a shepherd.  Named Oedipus, the boy eventually heads to Thebes, kills Lauis, and weds the queen, thus fulfilling the prophecy though completely unaware of his lineage.  (There’s a bit more, but methinks you get the idea.)
 
Just as psychoanalysts have pulled the Oedipal Complex from this centuries old yarn (a boy’s affection for his mother), they’re also christened the reverse based entirely on the queen’s perspective.  In Jocasta’s defense, she didn’t know (at the time) that Oedipus was her child, but I’m not here to split hairs.  The lady suffers a sad ending – this is Greek tragedy, after all – but her name shines on forever in behavioral journals published around the world.
 
The same could be said for the eventual rise-and-fall of Señora Fourneau, the headmistress for the 19th century boarding school featured in writer/director Narciso Ibáñdez Serrador’s The House That Screamed (1969).  While the motion picture stops short of definitively declaring that the mother/son relationship was incestuous, I believe there’s enough evidence provided onscreen to make for a reasonable clinical diagnosis.  Just like the fate that befell Jocasta, the lovely señora likely will never be the same.
​

​(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 film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A strict headmistress runs a secluded school for wayward girls in 19th century France, whose students are disappearing under mysterious circumstances.”
 
The plight of a reviewer who watches so many films is that it eventually grows harder and harder to find one that truly both registers and says something about the world we live in; and this is why I do prefer spending so much of time with older releases made before the pomp and circumstance of computerized special effects.  Simply put, storytellers had to often work harder – with vastly less resources – to craft stories that could make an impact.  Granted, some of their tricks might seem downright quaint – especially by comparison to what’s so commonplace today – but their lean, mean, frightening machines gave some flammable food for thought to brains hungry for such entertainment.  So while I may have been familiar with Narciso Ibáñdez Serrador’s name, I’d yet to take in one of his pictures.  That now has been rectified with Arrow Film’s stellar release of The House That Screamed, and I just might consider myself a convert.
 
In short?  I loved it.
 
Some of the commentary I’ve read online draw strong comparisons to Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, and I think these similarities are deserving of merit.  For example, Psycho – for the most part – takes place in a single locale; once audiences are delivered to the fateful Bates Motel, there’s no hope for an early check-out.  (Well, not alive, anyway.)  House does much of the same, delivering viewers by carriage at the onset to the secluded boarding school and then leaving them there for the duration of the tale.  Additionally, both films thematically stake out – curiously enough – a pivotal shower scene with which to show that their worlds require a bit of voyeurism in order to understand their respective psychologies.  Lastly, both scripts explore the bleak consequences owed entirely to a flawed relationship between mothers and sons … though House’s development is probably a bit closer to the themes of David Lynch than Hitchcock ever thought possible.
 

As Headmistress Fourneau, the late Lilli Palmer is nothing short of masterful.  The award-winning actress commands every scene she’s in, making it perfectly clear that she – as a character – believes herself not only a master of her fate but also the futures of any and all of those under her tutelage.  Serrador’s script goes to great pains very early in the draft to establish just how far she’s willing to go to maintain order in her own private corner of the universe – a kind of torture is not out of reach – and we learn to pity the fool(s) willing to cross her with even the slightest offence.  It isn’t hard to accept that some of these young women would rather break out and run away instead of facing her particular brand of education, and it’s here where House begins dabbling with the aura of mystery.
 
Just where – pray tell – are these ladies running to?
 
It’s a puzzle that mostly troubles her young son, Luis (played by John Moulder-Brown).  Privately, he’s been doing what a growing male mind would naturally do and getting to know a few of these girls, but it’s perhaps this world’s worst kept secret as practically everyone under the roof seems to be aware of his dalliances.  Of course, his mother disapproves – she keeps telling him, in no uncertain terms, that none of them will ever love him like she does – and even a few of the students in residence know of these clandestine encounters and use that knowledge to their own benefit.  In such institutions, secrets become their own form of currency, and the highest prices are being paid in blood.
 
Without getting too deeply into the particulars, I think it’s still important to point out that House is what I’ve often called a ‘broken narrative’ film.  (Don’t look it up, folks, as I think it’s honestly my own term.)
 
Rather than chart its path in a traditional form – meet X and follow X on her journey from start-to-finish – Serrador’s tale introduces characters (thus shifting focus) as it needs them but truly gives viewers no one player to follow the entire time.  Like loss interrupts life, Serrador realigns the narrative here once or twice.  Yes, it’s a bit unconventional, much like Quentin Tarantino toys with broken chronology in his Pulp Fiction (1994).  Just about the time when you might think you know whose story this is, let’s just say that ‘there’s a death in the family,’ and the movie pushes you onto an adjusted path.  Some of this is done to conceal the culprit’s identity – let’s just say that these young ladies aren’t just ‘disappearing,’ if you catch my drift, and there is a solid (but shrinking) handful of available suspects – so a reasonable amount of misdirection is required for the events to unfold as they do.  It may not have been as organic as possible, but it was necessary in order to maintain the final twist.
 
Suffice it to say, you may not want to pick any favorites amongst the young, lovely lasses … because she might not last the length of the picture.
 
Definitively, I’m not above stating that I just had an awful lot of fun with House … once I got into it.  It’s set-up is a bit slow – we spend a fair amount of time setting up the atmosphere of the boarding school and the key players – but the pay-off is grand, right up until the villain’s reveal and some pretty dark closing moments.  Yes, the ending reminded me of a handful of other pictures that have concluded in the same vein, but I just loved this one’s setting and how its players wind up in each of their respective tragedies.  It’s deliciously grim … and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
​

The House That Screamed (1969) (aka La Residencia) (aka Finishing School) was produced by Anabel Films S.A.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good folks at Arrow Films.  As for the technical specifications?  Though I’m no trained video expert and I was only provided an industry copy of disc, I’m relying upon the company published advertising materials to assure you that this is an all-new 4K restoration … and it looks and sounds marvelous!  (There’s a curious freeze-frame moment in the picture that consumers might think is a data error, but I’ve read online that it’s part and parcel of the original production.  Still … kinda weird choice …)  I’ll add that I did find the audio a bit tinny in a few spots, but I’m guessing that’s likely attributed back to the source materials as well.
 
Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?
 
Well, this is Arrow Films, and they rarely disappoint.  I’ve not had the time to explore everything on here, but there’s an audio commentary film critic Anna Bogutskaya; two different cuts of the film (the original U.S. theatrical along with Spanish release); a series of interviews discussing the project as well as Spanish Horror; some excerpts of alternate takes of the flick; a trailer gallery; and an images gallery.  The physical copy also provides some newly commissioned artwork, a mini poster, and slipcover.  (Again, I can’t speak to those items as I only received an approved copy of the disc itself.)  As usual, Arrow continues to please fans of cinema with their supplementals package.
 
Highly recommended.
 
As psychological Horror goes, The House That Screamed certainly benefits from an interesting though mildly predictably premise, an ensemble of talented actors and actresses, some great direction, and some fabulous production details.  Its story is a somewhat fractured perspective – I was never quite certain whose story this was, and I think that’s an intention choice by the director – making it somewhat difficult as the mystery unspools to know exactly whom to follow; but its ending – while reminiscent of the kind of thing Hitchcock did best – makes it worth the wait, so far as this reviewer is concerned. 
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary pre-production Blu-ray copy of The House That Screamed (1969) 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

I used to share a running joke with a few fellow Science Fiction enthusiasts on a SciFi message board of old.  One day, someone showed up in the forum moaning about there not being enough adaptations of any of the works of legendary author Jules Verne, and I piped up: "If you haven't seen one lately, then just wait around ten to fifteen years, and you'll get another one!"

Yes, yes, yes.  It would seem that -- every fifteen years or so -- some production studio decides to brush off one of the Verne classics and give it another go, either on the big screen or small.  While this naturally excites the denizens of SciFi and Fantasy fans, there are those of us it saddens just as much.  Why?  Well, because most likely we're going to be treated to another watered down incarnation that, structurally, really looks very little like the inspiration its based on.  Though I haven't seen this 1993 telefilm -- titled Journey To The Center Of The Earth -- I've read enough to know that it's mostly known for pillaging Vernes' central idea (and the title, of course) but then going off in another direction entirely.

That's Hollywood for ya!

​Here's the plot summary as provided by our friends at IMDB.com:

"Taking the title from the novel by Jules Verne, this story takes his basic premise of the desire to travel to the center of the Earth. The travelers, using their craft, penetrate an active volcano and encounter a strange world filled with many creatures and an evil force controlling it all."

Directed by William Dear (he previously delivered Timerider: The Adventure Of Lyle Swann to theaters in 1982), the adaptation was crafted by Robert Gunter and David Mickey Evans.  The project starred David Dundara, Farrah Forke, Kim Miyori, John Neville, and Jeffrey Nordling.
​

Other than snippets of information here and there, I haven't read a wealth online about the project.  I have seen places wherein writers have stated this telefilm was intending to launch a series, but all that IMDB.com reports on that topic is that an ongoing serial never materialized.  Who knows?  Something set in a regular subterrranean environment might've been fairly expensive for any of the major networks in the early-to-mid 1990's, so it's not all that surprising that this one never quite blasted off ... well, other than in this telefilm format.

Interestingly enough, there is a copy of the flick available for purchase on Amazon.com.  It appears to be an DVD-R-style print -- meaning most likely that whoever controls the original rights maintains it digitally and produces legal copies with each order.  I've always had difficulty getting those to play on traditional DVD players, so I'm inclined to wait until this one shows up as available for streaming to give it a whirl.  Why not?  It definitely had an interesting cast -- some real talent in there -- and it might be worth a trip underground, though reviews suggest one shouldn't expect too much.

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

​-- EZ

Generally speaking, I am a fan of the old being made new ... to an extent.

Taking a property like H.G. Wells' novel "The Invisible Man" and tweaking it in such a way as author H.F. Saint did with "Memoirs Of An Invisible Man" is admirable.  Published in 1987, it's described as a thriller with the occasional droll humor thrown in for good measure, but it was popular enough to earn Saint an incredible $2.5 million back in the day ... a payday so good that, apparently, the writer never picked up the pen ever again.  Wikipedia.org states that he retired and -- in a way -- became invisible.

But the book never collected dust, as they say.

​Warner Bros. won the bidding war over the rights to produce a motion picture adaptation of it.  The Horror Master himself John Carpenter was hired to direct, and a script was prepared by Robert Collector, Dana Olsen, and William Goldman.  Funnyman Chevy Chase was cast as the lead, Nick Halloway, the eventual invisible man; and the cast was rounded out with such hires as Daryl Hannah, Sam Neill, Michael McKean, and Stephen Tobolowsky.

What could go wrong?

Well, the film opened to some pretty awful reviews.  Again, taking a cue from the information on Wikipedia.org, it would appear that the respectable performances and solid special effects work truly went nowhere with a script that stuck a bit too close to predictable.  For those unaware, here's the plot summary as provided by IMDB.com:

"After a freak accident, a company executive turns completely invisible, goes on the run and becomes hunted by a treacherous CIA official, whilst trying to cope with his new reality."

As is often the case with box office failures, it's a bit unclear as to why the film truly failed to build any momentum.  Today, I've read that it's a kinda/sorta cult film for some who still admire it, but the reviews available on the Information Superhighway still make it clear that it's a middling production, at best.

IMDB.com's Trivia Page for the film indicates that director Carpenter had nothing but troubles working with both leads Chase and Hannah, going so far as to suggest they'd threaten to have him fired if they were unhappy with his work on set.  (I've read that the actor had already had director Ivan Reitman removed from the project in pre-production.)  Known to be somewhat difficult to work with, Chase apparently had issues with the film's tone (whatever that may mean), perhaps struggling to find a comfortable performance between its seriousness and the suggested comedy.

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

-- EZ
​

(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 film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An adventurer searches for hidden treasure in the Peruvian jungles.”
 
As is often the case with so many of IMDB.com’s plot summaries, that one is both correct and incorrect when applied to 1954's Secret Of The Incas.  In the guise of ‘Harry Steele,’ screen legend Charlton Heston is and isn’t all that much of an adventurer – certainly not the caliber of which it’s been said that the role inspired (which I’ll get to momentarily).  He’s part hunk, part con man, part guide, part tomb raider, and part swindler (you might say).  But – ahem – adventurer?  Well …
 
For those of you who are caught a bit unawares, Steele has long been cited as being the inspiration behind the wildly successful Indiana Jones franchise of films that emerged from the collaboration between Hollywood heavyweights George Lucas and Steven Spielberg.  Watching the film for the first time, I found it easy to see the connection: beyond the signature leather jacket, occasional fedora hat, and tan khakis, Heston damn near sounds like Harrison Ford (or is that vice versa?) in a few spots.  Throwing in the fact that Incas is, largely, set in dense jungles of Peru – the film was shot at the revered Machu Picchu – and there are archaeologists busy exploring some ancient ruins, I think it’s pretty clear that the Heston picture figured strongly into the founding dynamic of Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981) and maybe some bits and pieces of the sequels … but the association ends there.
 
Heston’s Steele is, otherwise, a pretty significant narrative stretch away from Ford’s Indiana Jones.
 
Indiana Jones was a bit ruthless and relentless in his pursuit of important antiquities, often making the right and proper choice on behalf of preserving artifacts for historical posterity.  Steele, by comparison, is much more a grifter.  He’s shown in Incas’ opening sequence as being not quite pure, conning a few folks here and there out of a few bucks as well as strong hints to his nature as a philanderer with ladies who might have something to offer him in return for his – ahem – “services.”  To be specific, Steele was not an archaeologist by trade.  In fact, the script suggests he was in the tomb raiding business almost exclusively for the financial rewards it could bring him.  Granted, he does make the noble decision in the flick’s big finish; but he’s still rewarded when his act of selflessness gives him the heart of the girl instead of the cool cash.
​

Structurally, there are still other comparisons one could make in the whole Steele/Jones debate.  Much like Jones surrounded himself with companions and confidantes who’d have his back in a crisis, Steele has cemented his own allies in Peru who’ve helped him in his pursuit of financial security.  Also, the Indiana Jones franchise have explored the ideas of professional adversaries who show up in the knick of time to throw the intrepid archaeologist off the trail, and Steele has his own antagonist in the form of ‘Ed Morgan’ (Thomas Mitchell), a local who has even resorted to trying to have Steele shot to scare him out of the business.  And it would take a fool to miss the obvious similarities between how Dr. Jones needs sunlight and a special jewel in the Well of the Souls … almost exactly how Steele needs a flashlight and a special gem to find the missing Incan Sunburst, a treasure of gold and jewels.
 
You know what they say: imitation is the most sincere form of flattery around.  And it shows!
 
Nonetheless, there is surprisingly very little adventure aboard Incas, and that’s probably owed more to the Hollywood requirements of its era.  While some might argue that the film’s backbone is the search for some lost objet d’art, I see it more as a romantic melodrama set against the backdrop of the traditional heist film.  Steele is unarguably chasing his own pot of gold, but that wouldn’t even have been possible without the central love story: Romanian refugee Elena Antonescu (the lovely Nicole Maurey) is fleeing her nation’s authorities, one of which arrives in a private aircraft, exactly the kind of thing Steele needs to – ahem – ‘steal’ in order to go after his pearl.  Back in the 1950’s, studios required love interests for their big heroes, and it’s pretty clear that the characteristic banter between Harry and Elena was intended to be the theatrical driving force in this jungle-set potboiler.
 
Hell, one might even suggest that screenwriters Ranald MacDougall and Sydney Boehm plucked a few pages out of 1942’s landmark Casablanca in order to make all of this work.  In Casablanca, Ilsa Lund was the lovely refugee who needed Rick Blaine’s assistance to avoid capture; and it’s this energy that fuels the Harry/Elena scenes.  Likewise, Casablanca introduced Ilsa’s much-older husband – Victor Lazslo – to fashion a love triangle for their script; in comparison, MacDougall and Boehm’s story cast TV star Robert Young as the much older archaeologist who – albeit briefly – steals Elena’s heart.  Honestly, I could go on with a few more similarities, but I hope I’ve made my point: Incas feels very much like a studio-produced formulaic picture that fits into the requirements of the day.
 
Lastly, I’d also point out – as have so many – that perhaps the real star in all of this is Peru.  The vast percentage of the film includes location shooting in the country, and it’s a very impressive effort that looks grand, much in the same way the Jones adventures take audiences on their own world tour.  Though my problems with the picture may not amount to a hill of beans much less the quest for fortune and glory, it still boasts some great screen charisma from Heston and Maurey.  I’ve no doubt that fans watching it can appreciate exactly how big a footprint it left in order to make a blockbuster derivative so profitable decades later.
​

Secret Of The Incas (1954) was produced by Paramount Pictures.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good folks at Kino Lorber.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the sights-and-sounds for this 4K remastering was quite good.  As is common with some of these older features shot on film, there are a few sequences of grain; but it’s nothing all that distracting, so far as I’m concerned.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Well, there’s a commentary track from film historian Toby Roan worth a listen.  It’s slim pickings, indeed, but that’s still better than no pickings.
 
Highly recommended.
 
Make no mistake: Indiana Jones franchise fans have solid reason to rejoice as now with Secret Of The Incas’ release on Blu-ray – with its remastering in 4K from the 35mm YCMs – can be seen in all its glory.  Long rumored to have been one of the chief inspirations behind the whole Raiders’ legacy, it looks grand … and yet I can’t help wondering if the end result might be a bit more collective disappointment than anything else.  Billed as a “thrilling action yarn,” it’s largely everything else, and I can say that as one who has viewed many dated action films from the bygone era.  It’s more melodrama than anything else – with the archaeological caper taking a firm backseat most of the time – but, yes, I’m still glad I’ve seen just where oh where Mr. Lucas and Mr. Spielberg may very well have come up with their idea.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Secret Of The Incas 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

There are good aspects to video production becoming so affordable, and, of course, there are bad aspects.  One might say “many bad aspects,” but I’ll just leave it at “bad.”
 
One of the downsides is that any Tom, Dick, or Harry can – with a reasonable commitment of resources – throw together a film, take it on the independent or festival circuit, and secure a distributor.  This doesn’t mean that the picture is one that needs to find an audience; rather, it means that the people behind it saw enough value to complete the thing and the company who puts their name on it believes they might profit from the efforts expended.  The best of the ‘good aspects’ is that means some creators may inevitably break through that glass ceiling keeping them outside of the film industry; they’ll get invited in, where more willing investors just might help them make their dreams come true.
 
What we’re left with, though, in the meantime are these lesser stepping stones to that final goal.
 
I suspect Battle Earth is one such stepping stone product.  It’s sprinkled with enough good ideas to understand the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of getting made, but that’s about all it’s sprinkled with.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last two paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A squad of Canadian soldiers survive a helicopter crash deep behind enemy lines during an alien invasion of Earth, now they have to survive the night.”
 
Mankind – yet again – has been dealt a devastating blow.  Civilization as we know it has been mostly wiped out.  There are pockets of resistance – fighters still willing to gear up and head out into the battleground – who seek to retake the Earth from these alien aggressors.  Into this fold, a young Canadian paramedic named Greg Baker (played with curious restraint by Kevin Johnson) gets assigned as a field medic.  His team’s mission?
 
Well, that’s where Battle Earth kinda/sorta starts to fall apart.
 
Baker and his partners are in a helicopter shot down over enemy territory.  They’re ‘escorting’ a package for deliver to high command, but their success relies heavily on getting that ‘curiosity’ to others who can use it against these evil aliens soldiers.  What they have is an oddity – a device of decidedly alien technology – that does apparently an awful lot of things.  The soldiers refer to it as a psychic database, one that catalogues the offworld race’s technology and tactics, but we’re never shown just how or why that works.  Instead, we’re shown that it causes hallucinations to the Earthlings who possess it, and most of what happens simply revolves around that.
 
In and off itself, that isn’t a bad premise, per se.
 
In fact, I can think of several possible scenarios where that might come in handy when crafting a dynamic story to tell about this lost squadron of men trying to do right by mankind.  Unfortunately, Baker spends the bulk of the film ulcerating over his unfaithful girlfriend – he’s even delivered images of her cheating on him with another man – but he stays true to the mission.  And – for the record – having the psychic database look like little more than a football buried under layers of duct tape kinda/sorta derailed my ability to see it as anything other than, well, a football buried under layers of duct tape.
 
Sadly, the script by relative newcomers Ryan Hatt, Kevin Johnson, and Aaron Kurmey only seems committed to putting this ‘Predator Platoon’ through its paces while reminding the audience of other soldier-centric productions that were far superior to this dreck.  Just at a glance, I could draw comparisons to Predator (1987), Battle: Los Angeles (2011), Full Metal Jacket (1987), and Oliver Stone’s seminal Platoon (1986).  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but, in the early helicopter sequences, one grunt rides half-inside, half-outside the aircraft while humming the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ – the classical theme prominently showcase in Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979)  – and this unfortunate sequence imbues the film with a heavily ‘been there, done that’ vibe that never quite goes away.
 
Also, much of Battle Earth is plagued by – simply put – sequences that last far longer than they need be in order to establish any narrative significance.  For example, the motion picture begins with a 7-minute ‘dream sequence’ that seeks to define our protagonist, the young Mr. Baker.  (I won’t spoil the hidden agenda of it, but, suffice it to say, there’s a strong thematic reason for it to be there.)  Well, at 7 minutes, it goes on probably 6 minutes longer than necessary.  Then, there’s a cut to another 5 minute sequence to further establish Baker and his unfaithful, mostly-disinterested girlfriend … and then we cut to ‘six months later.’  (???)  Look, there’s nothing inherently wrong or evil with providing some narrative set-up; next time, I’d encourage the crew to figure out a way to accomplish it in half the time.
 
Otherwise, the picture certainly sports some modest special effects, all no doubt completed with the best apps money can buy.  It’s ripe with the kind of herky-jerky handheld camera movements no amount of Dramamine can fix.  And the moral to the story ends up being little more than “never take your psychic database into battle.”
 
Didn’t we know that going in?
 
Battle Earth is produced by Rambunxious Entertainment, Multivisionnaire Pictures, and Dead Skuters.  DVD distribution is being handled through Inception Media Group, LLC.  As for the technical specifications … well, I don’t want to beat a dead horse, so let me say that the feature consistently sports acceptable picture and sound quality though both appeared to have been handled by novices (there are many out-of-focus shots and many poorly miked sequences that hamper the film’s effectiveness but not so bad that it destroys the picture).  As is often the case with some of these smaller, low budget productions, there are no special features to speak of.
 
Recommended (mildly) for anyone who’s a die-hard enthusiast of even the most borderline sci-fi concepts, themes, and flicks … or anyone who’s just a glutton for punishment.  None of this is intended to imply that Battle Earth is entirely forgettable – I’d argue that it’s exactly the kind of lesser feature that prompts so many film enthusiasts to either (A) parody it or (B) watch it, reach the conclusion they can do better, and then go out and do just that.  Germs of good ideas are not enough to elevate some films beyond their stated minutiae – they need acceptable production standards and quality performances in order to grow into something special.  This battle appeared lost before it ever got started.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Inception Media Group, LLC provided me with an advance DVD copy of Battle Earth for the expressed purposes of completing this review.

-- EZ
​

For the record:
Folks, a few months back I was contacted by one my distributor friends who recommended a few titles for me to consider for reviews.  These were films from the wider library of Jess Franco, a storyteller from a bygone era who even today – a decade after his passing – remains somewhat controversial for a good number of reasons.  The titles were Marquis de Sade’s Justine (1969) and Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir (aka Eugenie) (1970).  Because I watched them back-to-back (snicker snicker, given the subject matter), I’ve chosen to craft a blanket opening statement for their respective reviews, and I’ll then discuss their individual merits after my usual disclaimer.  Thanks for reading!
​

Let’s put it this way:
 
If you write 183 different films, then the odds are pretty good that you’re going to have some winners and some losers in there, right?  I mean … even if we’re really only talking statistically – with all that we’ve been told about a thousand monkeys typing endlessly, and one will eventually, inevitably produce something Shakespearean – then doesn’t it stand to reason that the screenwriter should find some successes and failures … right?
 
Now, let’s add another later:
 
If you direct an astonishing 207 different films, then the odds are pretty that – just like I stated above – you’re going to have the same?  Some good, some bad, some ugly.  I mean … it just stands to reason that would be the case … right?
 
Well …
 
I haven’t seen nearly as much from the library of works of Jess Franco (aka Jesus Franco) as have others.  If I’m being perfectly honest, then I’d have to admit that friends and associates have largely encouraged me to avoid some specific titles – not his entire body of “art” – and I’ve never had cause to doubt the advice.  I can say that what I have seen hasn’t been all that … erm … what’s the word?  Impressive?  Persuasive?  Relatable?  When it comes to productions, I do tend to identify more with films featuring characters I can relate to, and Franco allegedly trafficked in an awful lot of exploitation stuff.  And, hey, I’ve no problem with that … but again I keep coming back to the lack of a logically progressing plot being a central requirement.
 
On that front, I think Franco probably swung and missed more than most, but he probably has a solid reputation wherein his misses might just make for a reasonable way to be entertained for an hour or two.  These aren’t grand films by any estimation – at least, none that I’ve seen – but there’s still something about them that I just can’t quite put my finger on …
​

(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 film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An innocent girl goes to spend the weekend on an island with a woman and her brother, but soon finds herself entangled in a web of sexual experiments.”
 
I think it’s safe to argue that some films are much more ‘atmosphere’ than they are story, and – for what it’s worth – I think Philosophy In The Boudoir falls smack in the middle of that idea.
 
The vast majority of the action for this somewhat sexual perversion takes place on an island escape; cut of from the wider world-at-large, it’s an almost idyllic yet reasonably modern paradise, one that also houses (somewhere in its midst) a cult committed to exploring the limits of – ahem – their own definition of sexual depravity.  It’s all captured by Franco and his crew with trickery big and small – some curious out-of-focus photography alongside some equally mysterious color schemes.  While that sounds like it might be a bit more ‘skin flick’ than it is a serious arthouse project, there’s still fairly little in here that by today’s standards would be deemed controversial.  In fact, comparing it to some of what gets released these days, this Boudoir is far more PG than it is anything else.  But for its time?  I guess this was pretty newsworthy.
 
Structurally, Boudoir reminded me quite a bit of Dangerous Liaisons (1988) starring Michelle Pfeiffer, Glenn Close, and John Malkovich; and it’s pretty easy to understand why.  Mirvel (played by Jack Taylor) collaborates with his cunning sister Marianne (Maria Rohm) to lure the young, impressionable, yet voluptuous Eugenie (Marie Liljedahl) to this isolated spot so that he can – finally – have his way with her.  But somewhere along this passionate journey Marianne hints at exploring her own pleasures (to a degree) with the lass, and then the barn doors are swung wide open when Dolmance (Christopher Lee) and his cult of bedroom adventure seekers begin their own quest for satisfaction as well.  Added to this is Franco’s attempts to blur the lines between fantasy and reality, putting the viewer in the precarious position of trying – like Eugenie – to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.
 
The big difference between Boudoir and Liaisons, however, might be with how it leaves its characters in the last reel.  For example, Marquise Isabelle de Merteuil (Glenn Close) ends up unintentionally delivering her own fall from grace within French society once she’s been fully exposed as the tale’s true villainess.  Her evil machinations have cost even human lives, and for what?  All at the expense of proving herself more diabolically clever than her various suitors and paramours?  But Boudoir employs a curious circularity: Franco’s film begins exactly where it began, and – depending upon one’s interpretation – one might suspect that the real person violated here was the audience.  Did all of this happen?  Was it just one woman’s fanciful imagination?  Could it all have been just a dream … after all?  That may have been the only way to make sense of every dangled red herring met along the way!
​

Though I’m certainly no expert on the works of Franco, I’ll admit that Boudoir managed to keep my interest most of the time.  (These days, that’s honestly saying something.)  The story – what little there is and, as I’ve implied, not all of it makes perfect sense – flows at its own appreciable speed.  At a trim eighty-seven minutes from start-to-finish, that’s not bad.  The talent makes the most of what’s been either put down on the page or tasked for them to do physically.  But being no fan of films that deliver a story for an audience to make of it what they will, I’ll admit to being a bit confused and disappointed with the finale.
 
Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir (aka Eugenie) (1970) was produced by Etablissement Sargon, Hape-Film Company GmbH, Producciones Cinematograficas Balcazar, and Video-Tel International Productions.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good folks at Blue Underground.  As for the technical specifications?  Though I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds of this reported 4K restoration (from the original camera negative) to be quite good, but be warned: there are a few sequences within that are mildly out-of-focus.  (I’ve learned from both reading and the supplied commentary that these were done deliberately with artistic intent.  You can make up your own mind about whether or not that was a good idea, but I don’t think it was.)
 
Finally, if you’re looking for special features, then here’s what you have waiting for you.  The 4K disc includes only the film along with the commentary by film historians Nathaniel Thompson and Troy Howarth; while I don’t like ‘dissing’ on commentaries, I’ve always got to be honest.  I’ve heard Thompson on several projects, and – unfortunately – he’s just too hard to listen to because he talks far too fast.  In fact, he speaks so quickly it’s often extraordinarily difficult to get out what he’s saying about fifty percent of the time.  (Yes, that may be my age showing, but – as I said – I gotta be honest.)  The Blu-ray disc also includes the commentary along with a few additional interviews, most of which look at the totality of Franco’s career with only smaller observations on this particular title.  There are also some stills and posters for you to consider.  It’s a good collection, to be fair … I just wish someone would tell Thompson to slow it down.
 
Recommended, but …
 
As I mentioned above, I had the opportunity to view two Franco pictures, and – by far – Philosophy In The Boudoir I found the better of them if for no other reason that there was a stronger story and perhaps even better defined characters.  While it still wasn’t a fulfilling experience – bizarre camera trickery here and there and an unwillingness to spell out exactly everything that was going on in here – I’d still suggest going into it knowing in advance that Franco’s storytelling tropes might not be to everyone’s liking.  There’s good and there’s bad – having Christopher Lee turn up in what might be the most curious cameo-style role in the man’s filmography – and you just might be left wanted more.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Blue Underground provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD of Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy In The Boudoir 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

Is there anything yet new and innovative that can be found within that unique sub-culture of filmmaking: the found footage flick?
 
Meh.
 
Methinks that, as a narrative device, it’s just about run its course.
 
Now, that doesn’t mean that Hollywood won’t continue turning them out: most appear to be relatively low-budget exercises that could be high on the R.O.I. (Return On Investment).  And, personally, I wouldn’t want them to stop making them.  I enjoy them well enough (as anyone who has followed my reviews will tell you); I just wish they’d put a bit more thought into the stories.
 
Found footage works just fine as the gimmick, but, in the end, it’s characters that make them worthwhile.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
Liz (a perfectly mousey Erin Way) loses her baby in an unexplained miscarriage, putting her husband Rick (Eric Matheny) and her brother Evan (Ryan Smale) in the untenable position of helping her get her life back together and carry on.  Trying to capture some home memories as well as practicing his art as a film student, Evan opts to videotape their experiences.  Together, the three escape the city for the peace and quiet of a rural cabin.  However, as the days wear on, it becomes increasingly clear that something dark and sinister may be afoot involving Liz, Rick, and the disappeared fetus.
 
On a mostly visceral level, Absence works just fine.
 
There’s nothing all that grand here, other than a few surprises with some clever special effects, exactly the kind of thing audiences have come to expect from “found footage.”  However, to writer/director Jimmy Loweree’s credit, he tries to give his film a bit more substance, choosing to make Evan a film student hoping to capture the emotional experience of what his sister has gone through (and continues to recover from) as one of his personal “projects.”  Unfortunately, where this causes the film to break down is that Evan spends far too much time filming the insignificant minutiae of everyday life and not enough time just sitting and chatting with his sister and her husband.  Those scenes – in particular, the ones involving Liz’s personal struggle – are quite good, quite stirring, as Way works wonders with the nuances of a broken soul who can’t understand what she’s been through.  In what could’ve been a real breakthrough performance for a gifted actress, the audience is only teased; instead, we’re served up useless footage of shakycam going this way, shakycam going that way, and Evan’s attempts to seduce a local girl (Megan, played by Stephanie Scholz) to be his temporary squeeze.
 
Given the limitations of this story (as opposed to one that could’ve been) Absence clocks in at 90 minutes, and that’s simply 30 minutes too long to sustain my active interest.  Throughout the latter half, I started fast-forwarding once I realized I wasn’t missing all that much from so much exposition surrounding so little interest.
 
Still, I’ve seen far worse found footage than what’s inevitably delivered.  I only wish that Loweree and his team’s vision had extended beyond the flash and sizzle of this particular type of narrative in favor of turning out something a bit more memorable.  Those Paranormal Activity films really have this kind of film down to a science; Loweree’s had the potential to expand upon the human component, especially with Way’s gifts as an actress, and I would’ve liked to see more of that.
 
Absence (2013) is produced by Radcliffe Pictures.  DVD distribution is being handled by Cinedigm Entertainment Group.  As for the technical specifications, the video looks and sounds probably as well as the screenwriter and director intended it: this is one of those “found footage” films, so one can expect a certain amount of graininess, televised ‘snow,’ and the usual trickery in advancing the story.  As for the special features, the disc comes with a director’s commentary, a ‘making of’ short, and the theatrical trailer: it’s a nice collection for those genuinely interested in knowing a bit more about the story.
 
(Mildly) Recommended.
 
While Absence probably won’t burn up the video charts, it’s certainly an acceptable one-off rental for those who have a legitimate interest in “found footage” films, though I can’t imagine anyone disinterested in them will find much to enjoy here.  As hard as writer/director Jimmy Loweree tries to make these characters more accessible to whatever audience he hoped to gather, Absence works only as yet one more experience in the genre.  You can think of it as the set-up for a really great episode of The X-Files because it’s essentially the subject matter one would find FBI agents Mulder and Scully following up on, so if a twist of the paranormal is your thing, then you’ll enjoy this more than most.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Cinedigm Entertainment Group provided me with a DVD copy of Absence by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.

​-- EZ

(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 film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A reporter who has had an affair with the daughter of the U.S. President is sent to Hungary.  There he is bitten by a werewolf, and then gets transferred back to Washington, where he gets a job as press assistant to the President.  Then bodies start turning up in D.C. …”
 
If one were to strip away any of the modern veneer found in writer/director Milton Moses Ginsberg’s The Werewolf Of Washington down to its bones, then you’d be left with the reality that – at its core – his film is honestly little more than a clever riff on the Universal Pictures’ 1941 landmark Horror/Classic The Wolf Man (starring the great Claude Rains and Lon Chaney, Jr.).  Scene by scene, it pretty much matches thematically the original – even calling to mind that slow-dissolve camera trickery of the man-to-wolf transformation sequences – never veering off into unexplored territory or deviating from the formula in any measurable way.  So … perhaps not all that much has really changed in the roughly three decades passage of time between that and this theatrical rehash set against the backdrop of U.S. politics?  I suppose that’s as true as it is false; still, there’s an awful lot of interesting observations that could be made about monsters and men, especially when the world’s highest seats of power tend to be occupied by villains of their own respective eras.
 
What more is there to Werewolf than Ginsberg’s prescience?
 
Well … really … not much.
 
I sat through the director’s cut of the project (why wouldn’t I given the fact that in the materials provided he insists it’s his preferred version?), and – at 74 minutes – there isn’t much of a bloody carcass one can sink his teeth into as perhaps the auteur thought or intended.  As I said, structurally, it largely parallels the journey of the first or practically any werewolf-sufferer (boy meets wolf, boy gets bit, boy becomes wolf, etc.).  The fact that there’s a void of side stories and/or secondary ideas becomes pretty clear as bodies start piling up in the second half.  While that’s not a complaint, per se, it’s still not a ringing endorsement; and I can’t help but wonder if some of the flick’s negative being lost for so many years truly served it best.  Forgotten and/or misplaced gems usually look better in memory than they do on screens big and small, and maybe its protracted absence truly made those hearts grow fonder than was necessary.
​

Dean Stockwell turns in a solid work as the film’s lead.  (In fact, I’d argue that his participation is probably the greatest reason to see this one.)  His ‘Jack Whittier’ kinda/sorta gives the appearance of a Washington toadie at times; as a consequence, his moments of growing anxiety over turning into the nocturnal carnivore probably evokes the right amount of sympathy and disgust, just as Chaney’s had done years earlier.  Katalin Kallay – in her only screen role of record as per IMDB.com – never quite invokes much emotion in her few scenes; while there’s clearly a hint of lingering affection for Jack (as her former suitor), nothing she does or says rises to the level of re-establishing her desire to reconcile.  It's almost as if her dialogue were manufactured on-the-fly.  As the President of the United States, Biff McGuire admirably vacillates between reckless bravado and cluelessness, mimicking the popular opinion of failed President Richard Nixon to which I believe Ginsberg alludes.  Clifton James – filmdom’s ubiquitous big-hearted Southern gentleman/hick – hits his mark as the Attorney General who wants all of this messy mystery to go away.
 
And … kudos to anyone watching as closely as I did in spotting the masterful James Tolkan as a sunglasses-wearing agent/heavy who may or may not be serving these elected officials.
 
In the film’s opening remarks, Ginsberg explains that – in all of history – he’d never been so troubled as he had over The Wolf Man and Watergate, so it’s understandably why he sought out to exorcise these demons and tried to do it simultaneously.  (There’s a fabulous sequence wherein our beloved werewolf seemingly finds a curiously short scientist played by Michael Dunn practicing some arcane work in what may’ve been the White House basement.  Though the vignette gets a bit of a coda with the President – who gets summarily dismissed by Dunn in no small measure – it practically screams for wider context.  Alas, none is provided.)  Ginsberg pays homage to these moments more than he maligns them, though I can’t help but wonder if he intended something other with respect to the mocked political shenanigans.  While he doesn’t quite hit the mark, I think he missed the bull’s-eye by an appreciable margin, but the Werewolf still makes for an easy one-off for anyone whose interested is piqued by the premise.
 
Some days, there’s nothing at all wrong with that.
 
The Werewolf Of Washington (1973) was produced by Diplomat Pictures / Millco.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via the good people at Kino Lorber.  As for the technical specifications?  The product packaging states that this release includes both a special director’s cut as well as a 2K restoration of the 1973 theatrical print; and – while I’m no trained video expert – I thought that the sights and sounds were quite good.  Naturally, there are a few sequences that seem a bit underwhelming; but there’s nothing that overwhelming distracts from the quality of the picture.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  There’s a brief (8 minutes) interview with Ginsberg; yes, it’s nice, but it’s short on substance, heavier on opinion.  Also, there’s an interesting critical discussion between film scholars Simon Abrams and Sheila O’Malley (20 minutes) that mostly serves to put the film and its star – Stockwell – in the broader context of history; clearly, both are fond of the picture, and their enthusiasm makes for a solid short.
 
(Mildly) Recommended.
 
What one inevitably thinks about The Werewolf Of Washington will likely some ways be tied up with how much credit and/or interest gets prescribed by the obvious political allegory.  Did it work, and was the comparison worthwhile?  For me, I guess it worked just fine, but I just didn’t see Ginsberg’s script as being all that revelatory as it’s a pretty easy association to draw.  (Politicians have always been monsters, right?)  Had he taken the rest of the affair in some other direction, then perhaps I’d feel differently.  Stockwell turns in some good work – perhaps a bit misdirected in some scenes – and it’s a passable enough affair to endure.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of The Werewolf Of Washington (1973) 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

(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:
“After two impoverished teenage brothers flee home to escape their physically abusive father, they hope to find and reunite with their estranged mother and embark on a dangerous journey to a cursed forest in Northwestern Pennsylvania, not aware that she has become a disciple of a violent and sadistic cult that dwells there.”
 
If that synopsis reads like a bit of a run-on sentence, then wait until you see the film!
 
Because I do so very much love a good indie feature – much more than so many others on the Information Superhighway these days – it troubles me personally to have so little to say positive with regards to The Long Dark Trail.  Going in, I think it had an interesting set-up, but the writing/directing team of Nick Psinakis and Kevin Ignatius really don’t deliver anything relevant with that tricky reveal, perhaps leaving the audience with more questions than they do answers … and that’s never a good thing in something chiefly advertised as a Horror feature.  It’s a bit difficult to discern when and where this story begins, and – once the credits roll – methinks it’s very clear that it ain’t quite over … not, at least for the two leads.
 
Brady O’Donnell and Carter O’Donnell play the singular brothers-on-the-run, wholly interested on leaving behind the abusive relationship they have with their father.  What I can’t figure out – so far as the plot provides in this 78 minute flick – is why they believed their life would be any brighter with the mother who allegedly deserted them years before.  Granted, I get perfectly well that their options were limited, and it isn’t as if they had a lot of places to go; but whatever happened to going to the authorities and turning yourself over to the social welfare system?  Clearly, the one boy’s pronounced scarring from a hot iron would be of interest to Child Protective Services, and the fact that there was absolutely no attempt to fill this rather obvious plot hole seems like a big miss by all involved.
 
Furthermore, just what in the Holy Hell is this nearby cult’s business?  Again, don’t get me wrong, but – generally speaking – cults have some kind of dogma that they practice.  They have their own rules, their own internal social structure, and they usually have a commitment to some loose principles, be that ‘worshipping The Father’ or waiting for the world to finally come to its bitter end so that can ascend or whatever else.  These ladies – of which there are many – spend their time in tatters of their own making (it would seem), all seemingly in love with a guy named Zeke … and Zeke’s only commitment would appear to be sacrificing young men so that he can gain their life force or something.  It’s all a bit too vague for my liking.
 
Therein lies The Long Dark Trail’s biggest problem: like a bad trail through the woods, the creative crew have really left no bread crumbs for the viewers to follow.  Everything is a bit vague as Psinakis and Ignatius only seem concerned with layered on more atmosphere.  Yes, a general sense of creepiness pervades the project, but when all I can do is wonder what I’m supposed to make of all of this once it fades to black, then somewhere along the way it would’ve been nice if this path had even one trailmarker to steer me in the right direction.  At times, it’s an almost hallucinogenic mix, and the fact that the boys pretty much wind up exactly where they started (if that’s what truly happened) then what – pray tell – was the purpose of the journey?
 
Just to fill up 78 minutes?
 
I’m always willing to reverse my take if I’ve somehow missed the particulars as supplied by the script, and who knows?  Maybe that’s what happened here.  Maybe I just missed it.  Maybe this one just wasn’t for me.  Maybe it all makes perfect sense, and perhaps I somehow got lost on the trail.  Given the fact that there’s so very little dialogue – something I’m much more drawn to in storytelling than I am imagery – I’m ok if I have to chalk this one up to my own confusion.
 
The Long Dark Trail (2022) was produced by Four Eighteen Films.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at MVD Visual with some participation from Cleopatra Entertainment.  As for the technical specifications?  Though I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the sights and sounds of the film were surprisingly good, especially for an independent feature.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  There are some bloopers, some very brief behind-the-scenes, and a director’s interview, but it’s all extremely short.
 
(Mildly) Recommended.
 
The Long Dark Trail is a hard one to fully endorse.  Rather than present a straight-forward chronological story with a clear cause-and-effect structure, this one kinda/sorta unspools a bit more experimental in nature.  The opening scenes aren’t quite resolved until the big finish; and – even then – there’s really so little narrative information provided that I’m more perplexed by all of it than intrigued.  Perhaps if the writing/directing team of Ignatius and Psinakis had developed a bit more story than what they delivered, then their boys’ journey might’ve been a bit more impactful.  As is?  Well, it’s a bit of a slough.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at MVD Visual provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Long Dark Trail 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

I do find it vexing how society treats celebrities with a bit of kid gloves at times.

For example, that quote attributed to actor/comedian Richard Belzer from above?  To me, something said like that would appear to be common sense, but in today's kinda/sorta 'cancel culture' climate a phrase or a statement or a Tweet like that would get you banned for the spread of either disinformation or misinformation on any major social media platform ... only if it were you and I.  The regular folks.  People like Belzer or any other established commodity?  Well, they can say it all the live long day, and they'll likely suffer no consequences.

​Now, don't think I'm throwing sour grapes at Belzer.  My sentiment has nothing to do with him -- well, other than the fact that it's something he allegedly said, and I've no reason to doubt it -- and it really only shows the importance we apparently put on free speech: if it comes from our cultural betters, then it's okay.  If it comes from the masses-at-large, then it need be suppressed.

Such observations were pretty common in the man's early days.  From what I know of him (without any research), he got his start in comedy clubs and the like, eventually garnering a good deal of positive attention from industry types.  This brought the man a bit of a second career, that being an actor in films and television; and he enjoyed a fairly long stint aboard some crime procedurals on the Boob Tube in the United States.

As far as his contributions to the world of genre entertainment?

His participation in our flights of fancy are a bit light, but they're equally deserving of a mention in this space.

In 1982, he enjoyed an uncredited appearance as a 'loudmouthed audience member' in Cafe Flesh from Carribbean Films.

In 1991, he found work in an episode of Monsters! before enjoying a recurring stint on the TV's first attempt at bringing DC Comics' The Flash to life in a weekly show.  IMDB.com reports that Belzer made ten appearances in the property.

​In 1994, Belzer checked in with an impressive four visits to the world of Lois & Clark: The New Adventures Of Superman.  In that same year, he enjoyed a stop in the theatrical realm aboard The Puppet Masters for Hollywood Pictures.

1995 was another solid year for Science Fiction for the actor.  He enjoyed stops to two alien-themed entities: first, Not Of This Earth for Concorde-New Horizons and then a role in the two-part miniseries updating of The Invaders for television.

​But perhaps his most memorable (for me, anyway) was when -- in 1997 -- he flirted with a curious crossover: his TV detective John Munch came aboard an episode of Fox TV's stellar The X-Files for a single episode.  And that same year saw the actor playing the U.S. President in Species II for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
​
Alas, none of us lasts forever, and word reached my desk yesterday that the award-nominated actor passed away due to health complications.  Thankfully, his work lives on so that it can be discovered by future generations.

As always, thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Belzer.  May he rest in peace.

​-- EZ