(Los Angeles, CA – July 31, 2025) – Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and let Flicker Alley and Blackhawk Films delight and terrify you with the strangest attraction ever beheld! Lon Chaney takes center stage as HE, a tortured clown whose signature act is receiving an endless series of slaps to the face.

Unbeknownst to the cheering crowd, however, HE is disgraced scientist Paul Beaumont who, robbed of his research and publicly humiliated by the evil Baron Regnard (Marc McDermott), has spent the last five years intricately staging a most bizarre and twisted revenge.

Originally a 1914 Russian stageplay by expressionist author Leonid Andreyev, He Who Gets Slapped became a hit on Broadway in 1922 and was immediately targeted by Louis B. Mayer as the first project at his new studio, soon to be amalgamated as Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM.) Directed by Victor Sjöström (The Phantom Carriage, The Wind), Chaney’s tragic and deeply haunting performance as HE is seminal to a grand tradition of scary movie clowns.

He Who Gets Slapped makes its high definition debut through the generous support of the Sunrise Foundation for Education & the Arts. The film was restored by Blackhawk Films in 2024 from a first generation 35mm safety print and a 16mm dupe negative. It is presented with two different scores: an original piano composition by Antonio Coppola and an original orchestral score by Alloy Orchestra, recorded live in 2013.
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Bonus Materials Include:

• Audio Commentary - By Emmy award-winning makeup artist and Lon Chaney expert Michael F. Blake
• He Who Gets Smacked (1925) - From producer Mack Sennett and director Lloyd Bacon, this comedic short stars Ralph Graves as Jimmie, a hapless department store worker who accidentally volunteers for a professional boxing match
• Koko at the Circus (1926) - Will Koko and Fritz the Dog’s circus act be replaced by a giant? Find out in this animated short from Max Fleischer’s Out of the Inkwell series, directed by Dave Fleischer, featuring a stunning new restoration by Fabulous Fleischer Cartoons Restored
• Leo: The Truth and the Lion (2025) - An original featurette that explores the early days of MGM’s beloved Leo the Lion
• Image Galleries - Featuring production stills and promotional material
• Booklet Insert - Presenting an article by Thomas Gladysz exploring the life of Victor Sjöström and the production of He Who Gets Slapped
• Limited Edition Spot Gloss Slipcover - Optional packaging upgrade with exclusive artwork, available only at FlickerAlley.com
• English SDH Subtitles
• Blu-ray Authoring by David Mackenzie of Fidelity in Motion
• All Region Encoding (A,B,C)

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Folks, I have this love/hate relationship with the works of Stephen King.
 
No, this isn’t political, though I do loathe the man’s politics.  And, no, this isn’t a matter of envy over the fact that he’s widely successful because I’d never ever argue that he doesn’t deserve the rewards he’s earned.  The man is a pure dynamo when it comes to crafting some of the most highly regarding fiction since pen was ever put to paper; and I genuinely mean that.  I’ve read enough of his works to know that not all of it is for me, but that’s never stopped me from picking up the occasional paperback and rummaging through it for whatever goodness (and badness) I can find.  Like a juggernaut, the author just keeps going – against all odds – and continues to produce stories to keep us up at night; so, kudos are warmly extended to him as we’ll likely never see another one like that in our lifetime.
 
But … here’s the thing …
 
What works on page – in words – doesn’t always translate well to visuals … and vice versa.  There are some very, very, very good novels that work chiefly by getting inside your head, making you think about things on a level that frightens in ways that seeing it up in light and shadows defies; and I’m not convinced any storyteller in filmdom has done a truly respectful job in translating that to celluloid.  Is that the filmmaker’s fault?  Well, as I said, no, it isn’t; and that’s owed to the fact that what chills us to the bone via our imagination doesn’t work anywhere near the same level as what accomplishes the same in scenes constructed, staged, acted, and edited for consumption.  They are two different mediums; and – while there’s certainly solid crossover potential – something has to change in order to make for a good flick.
 
As a result, I think there’s a good number of filmed entries from King’s library that wind up being a bit exploitative and gratuitous when the source material couldn’t be further from that.  Arguably, some filmmakers avoided that – 1980’s The Shining from Stanley Kubrick comes to mind (a product that King rabidly hates); 1983’s The Dead Zone from David Cronenberg succeeds as a character study as much as it does a Horror Fantasy (another outing the author despises); and 1994’s poorly received miniseries adaptation of The Stand – and I think they did so by finding narrative hooks with which to make some iteration stand on its own despite ignoring a good deal of what made the books special.  See what I mean?  Novels and films are decidedly different – both work on their own magic – and perhaps King’s best stuff will always be a bit elusive when it comes from script-to-screen.
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All of this brings me to Salem’s Lot, a 1979 televised miniseries adaptation of the King novel of the same name.  (Tidbit: I have read online that the author is quite fond of this one.)  Tobe Hooper directed both installments from an adaptation crafted by Paul Monash.  The effort starred David Soul, Bonnie Bedelia, Lew Ayres, Lance Kerwin, and James Mason in big roles; and it’s a work that’s been fairly universally praised – both back in its day and even in the present – though I’ll admit that I’m honestly at a loss to understand why.  Despite some winning atmosphere and a few good scenes, I found the whole 180-plus minutes to suffer an incredible amount of bloat, along with a lack of character motivations so much so that I just never game a damn about their world, their identities, or their shared circumstances.
 
(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 miniseries’ IMDB.com page citation:
“A novelist and a young horror fan attempt to save a small New England town which has been invaded by vampires.”
 
In order for Horror to work as a genre – even with its most casual fans – there must be a means with which all of a film’s elements come together to not only create a current of tension but also it must raise even the most obvious stakes.
 
Most times, storytellers accomplish this by establishing an atmosphere of dread; and – while that’s well and good – they forget to sometimes cleverly and calculatingly push that up another notch when everyone’s watching.  (Spinal Tap would remind you that this one goes up to eleven and for a good reason.)  In chillers (of which Salem’s Lot certainly qualifies), this tends to be done with heady visuals – dark corners, a wealth of cobwebs signaling a space that hasn’t been frequented, a busted open shipping crate with no explanation for what’s happened, etc.  Director Tobe Hooper – of 1974’s groundbreaking Horror feature The Texas Chain Saw Massacre – clearly knew a thing or two about delivering the look and mood required here; and, yet, somewhere along the way I think a few things got overlooked.
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Successful author Ben Mears (played by David Soul) returns to the town of his past – Salem’s Lot, Maine – the kind of quaint little village that still had boarding houses for lovers hoping to escape to its modestly scenic New England wiles.  While the man does find a bit of romance in the arms of the lovely local single Susan Norton (the deliriously fetching Bonnie Bedelia), he’s also aware that the cozy town maintains the old Marsten House, a manor Mears intends to expose as a kinda/sorta ‘source of all things evil’ in his next volume.  As the dreary place – a definite stand-in for the Norman Bates’ house featured in 1960’s Psycho – has fallen under control of the never-present man of mystery – Richard Straker – and his (ahem) live-in companion-style manservant, antiques dealer Kurt Barlow (James Mason), Mears will have to work his way into the home secretly if he’s to find out what villainy takes place upon its grim roof.
 
As Fate would have it, the writer just happens to be in the right place at the right time: Barlow has paved way for Straker’s arrival in Salem’s Lot, and the master vampire apparently has built up quite an appetite.  It isn’t a hunger that’s being restricted to him, though, as what appears to be his Master Plan is to transform the municipality into, basically, a haven for bloodsuckers who will all be from his design.  Of course, it doesn’t take long for Mears to recognize that some dire agenda is underway.  He’s eventually joined with a few other concerned citizens – retired teacher Jason Burke (Lew Ayres), town physician Bill Norton (Ed Flanders), Susan, and teenage monster aficionado and drama student Mark Petrie (Lance Kerwin) – and they’ll all have to work together if they’re to stop the dreaded infection from taking over the property.
 
Sometimes – as a critic – I don’t feel the need to get all that deep into why a particular film or television show doesn’t work for me.
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Salem’s Lot – while expertly made and even a bit formulaic – kinda/sorta drags in place it needn’t; and I never get enough meat on the bones of these various characters to care all that much about them, their town, or their survival.  Soul – always a good actor – carries the weight of the tale on his shoulders, appearing chiefly as a crusading do-gooder who just wants to bring an end to evil; but I found myself continually questioning why he’d commit this much of his life to essentially exploring a local legend in a small town not really on anyone’s map of significance.  A bit more was required, but the characterization comes up bland.  Bedelia makes the most of her few scenes – frankly, I would like to have seen a more organic relationship blossom between her and Mears as this one felt too convenient – and the best she gets for her troubles here is a great inclusion in the miniseries’ framework ending.  (I won’t spoil it, so let’s just say it ain’t all sunshine and roses.)  Kerwin, too, is pretty interesting here and there, but all too often he feels like the typical King creation: a brighter-than-average kid who just happens to be interested in monsters because that’s what the story needs and how the author perhaps saw himself in this yarn.
 
Still, scenes drag on far longer than necessary, and Lot slows down far too often to revel in its own atmosphere.  While I can accept a bit of deliberate pacing if there’s a significant pay-off for my patience, that doesn’t happen enough for me to feel as if director Hooper and screenwriter Paul Monash were in sympatico on how to shift all of these minorly-moving pieces into a cohesive whole.  About the best that can be said here is that the vampires – even the fledgling ones – are terrifically creepy – especially for TV scale – and the old Marsten House lives up to its legend once we get inside.  I’d still say a few of those hallway scenes could’ve used a trimming, but if these were the only rewards then waiting over two hours – in a three-hour cut – to get to them asks a great deal of the watchers.
 
Now, some of my disappointment with Lot might be the way in which it was constructed.  Generally speaking, I’m a fan of opening flashbacks because I think when used properly they can help both set the stage for what’s about to unfold via jumping backward in time as well as framing the whole experience in a way that helps contain the narrative, keeping it from jumping to and fro unnecessarily.  Here, however, it really deflates the central story because – from the outset – the audience has been assured that the two big characters – Mears and Petrie – are truly in no danger from anything that takes place in the flashback.  Why?  Well, because you showed us that they survive!  Consequently, when we see them appear in any jeopardy, there’s no resulting tension – something every chiller requires to be effective – as we’ve already seen that they survive.  So … what’s all this about then?  Structurally, it just killed the primary reason most of us tune in to watch Horror.
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Salem’s Lot (1979) was produced by Warner Bros. Television.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still attest that the provided sights and sounds are quite good across the story’s run time.  There are some effects sequences which represent some of the best that was available at the time, though they don’t exactly hold up all that well today.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Well, you’ll have to look elsewhere as there’s absolutely nada provided on this disc.  Disappointing, but it is what it is.
 
Alas … this one is only Mildly Recommended.
 
Frankly, I can remember the last time I was this bored with a vampire story, but – sorry, folks – Salem’s Lot was a painfully slow experience.  I don’t doubt that there was a good central story somewhere wrapped up in all of this, but at an inconceivable 180-plus minutes I’ll argue this one was definitely in need of a good trimming.  As it is?  It sucked the blood right outta me.  Perhaps an impressive two-hour flick?  I’ve read such a cut exists; and maybe – just maybe – that would’ve been the better way to go.  This miniseries is obviously a product of its day – what with some very dated and rather obvious effects work – so those going in knowing these modest reservations might have more luck with it than I did.  It’s another one of those yarns that ends but doesn’t (you’ll understand when you see it), and I’m also not sure that was the closure I deserved for waiting so long in the process.
 
In the interest of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Allied Vaughn provided me with a complimentary DVD of Salem’s Lot (1979) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

-- EZ
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There are those who know me well who insist that – if I were to take the time and read some novels – I’d be smitten with the wide, wide world of Sax Rohmer’s Fu Manchu.
 
Essentially, I think this opinion stems from the fact that I’m an admitted fan of the era of American pulp novels and have read quite a few.  Starting in the 1920’s and running through the early 1960’s (though many insist that true pulp ended in the 1950’s), the pulp sensation was fueled by a plethora of authors penning some of the most entertaining “literature” to hit bookshelves by way of inexpensive magazines focused on Science Fiction, Fantasy, Crime, and Horror.  Because these venues were printed on cheap paper (i.e. pulp), they earned the moniker of ‘pulp fiction,’ the kind of yarns meant almost exclusively to escape the doldrums of a hum drum life by getting wrapped up in stories taking place elsewhere.  For the most part, author Rohmer detailed his adventures of Fu Manchu in this era; and those who’ve both read them and know me assure that they’re the kind of thing that’d get me ‘hot and bothered’ … well, so far as reading goes anyway.
 
Honestly, the only reason I haven’t quite dipped into the books at this point is because I keep my shelves amply filled with titles I’m hoping to get to in this lifetime.  Yet, I do keep my eyes peeled for the various screen incarnations which – thanks to my relationships with various distributors and media outlets – I’m occasionally able to get my hands on.  It’s for this reason that earlier in 2025 I was excited to learn that 1968’s The Blood Of Fu Manchu and its follow-up (1969’s The Castle Of Fu Manchu) were getting undated releases from Blue Underground, one of my favorite distributors of obscure and often overlooked or forgotten flicks.  I kept my fingers crossed that I’d make the cut in getting review copies; and – lo and behold – the movie gods have smiled upon me.  I just made it through Blood – along with its several extras – and I definitely have something to say about it.
 
(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:
“Fu Manchu poisons and hypnotizes ten women to bring down his enemies, including Nayland Smith, with kisses of death.”
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For what it’s worth, heroes come and go … but truly exceptional villains have been, currently remain, and will always be timeless.
 
Simply put, this is because we socially do love to hate the bad guy.  Granted, not a great deal of them truly go out of their way to earn our loathing, so there’s something to be said for enemies who practice menace so gleefully that we as viewers become almost intoxicated with the level of depravity shown on screen.  In Horror films, this happens more often than not with buckets and buckets of blood; but in Science Fiction, Fantasy, and beyond, it takes a bit more nuance.  Not every baddie deserves to be booed or hissed at; and it takes an accomplished storyteller to up the villain’s game to the point wherein we’ve no other choice but than to throw our curses at screens big and small when we’re forced to witness their dastardly pursuits.
 
Now, the truth about The Blood Of Fu Manchu is that the production comes up noticeably short in that regard.  Yes, the great Fu himself – as played here by screen legend Christopher Lee – is rather obviously enamored with his own greed and desire to achieve the submission of the world-at-large at his feet; but it’s all handled with a vast degree of gentlemanly restraint.  He doesn’t scream his protestations against mankind.  He doesn’t lurch and lunge at those around him who could easily fall prey to his wrath.  Hell, he doesn’t even twirl his mustache, though that pencil-thin thing hangs down the sides of his mouth and definitely could be wound up for good measure if he so chose.  This Fu is calm and controlled menace, one who wouldn’t give you and I or the audience writ large the opportunity to see him struggle in any respect … and, yes, that is a bit disappointing.
 
Every real theatrical antagonist really needs to chew some scenery even if it’s only a passing fancy.  When that doesn’t happen, the Monday morning analysts inside each of us begins to doubt the veracity of his claim to bring the planet under his control.  We suspect that he truly isn’t in the business of being evil for evil’s sake.  Though others in his cabal aren’t inclined to cross him or even think about disobeying an order, he still seems a bit incomplete, maybe even a bit evasive about just how far he’s willing to go to bring those dishonorable dreams to fruition.  This Fu isn’t so much ‘tightly wound’ as he appears ‘ominously aloof,’ and that hurts the vibe.
 
Deep inside the South American jungle, Fu Manchu – paired up with his treacherous daughter Lin Tang (played by Tsai Chin) – has discovered a secret city wherein ancient mystics uncovered a snake’s venom that can be metastasized on a woman’s lips wherein the lovely lady can deliver kisses that kill instantly!  Knowing a good bit of wickedness when he sees it, Fu and Lin conscript a harem of beautiful ladies they intend to equip with this poison and dispatch as dangerous liaisons to the various male leaders of the free world.  If these rulers don’t accede to his demands, then Fu threatens to bring governments around the globe to their knees … but, bluntly, there’s really no explanation for how, when, where, or why such a scheme would work to begin with.
 
Sometimes, you just have to roll with the punches.
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In any event, Fu’s first target is none other than his longtime adversary, Nayland Smith (Richard Greene).  As best as I can figure it, the madman is thinking that if he can remove Smith from the equation then no one left will have the smarts to figure out who is behind this campaign of deadly kissing (or something thereabouts); and this clears the playing board for the devil to reach untold heights.  As fate would have it, Smith’s kiss is apparently cut a bit short (or something thereabouts, too), as the man only succumbs so far as to become blinded by the poison instead of assuming room temperature.  Now that he’s been afflicted, the man realizes that only Fu must have an antidote (or something thereabouts, as well); and this means he’ll have to head to South America to locate the presumed cure and stop his enemy from upended the existing social order.
 
See what I mean?  If only makes sense if you don’t think too deeply about it.  That’s what I mean when I say “roll with the punches.”
 
Of course, there’s a good degree more action already taking place.  Smith had already dispatched a kinda/sorta Indiana Jones-style adventurer down south in the guise of Carl Jansen (Götz George), so thankfully the benefactor is really only joining the story already in progress.  It isn’t long before Jansen, Smith, and Dr. Petrie (Howard Marion-Crawford) – the proverbial ‘Dr. Watson’ to Smith’s ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ if you will – are reunited, along with the lovely nurse/missionary Ursula Wagner (Maria Rohm) who finds herself engulfed in the globe-trotting action affair.  Together, they’ll find their way into Manchu’s lair, risking life and limb in order to bring the mastermind down if it’s the last thing they do!  (Hint: it is the last thing they do in this picture, but rest assured that – in customary fashion – Fu Manchu vows to return yet again … which he does.)
 
Though Blood lacks the creative and logical polish that, say, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas’s Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981) brought to the silver screen, that’s very much what I think the picture was reaching for well before those Hollywood heavyweights reinvented the movie serial for a new generation.  While producer (and screenwriter) Harry Alan Towers secured the rights to the Fu Manchu library in order to deliver this incarnation to theaters, he instead crafted his very own adventure, ignoring a great deal of what had already been established and explored with the character in earlier iterations on screen and in the novels.  Being unfamiliar with the books, I can’t say whether or not such a departure truly served the legend of Fu Manchu at all: I’ve read that this picture isn’t highly regarded in the slightest – what with the exception of its cult appeal – so I’m inclined to suspect that Towers did himself and the greater pulp universe no favors.
 
Still, I’m not ashamed even mildly to admit that I had fun with this outing. 
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As I hope I made clear above, its premise and the plot development really make little sense – there’s a side story involving some South American rebels lead by Sancho Lopez (Riscardo Palacios) which resonates as if it were added solely to fill time spent waiting for Smith and Petrie to eventually show up on the scene – and a great deal of the ‘action’ is rather poorly staged, shot, and delivered.  A few of the – ahem – fight sequences are more than a bit laughable.  Female villagers fearing the usual raping and pillaging fight their aggressors in one sequence only to appear as willing sexual consorts in the next, so don’t look for much of this cinematic downtime to be anything greater than what’s needed to set-up what follows.  There’s even a rather wild revision to Fu’s master plan – an entirely unannounced airborne variant of the kissing concoction he’s rediscovered and put to dangerous use – that literally comes out of nowhere (and leads to the same destination).  I’m mildly experienced with the works of director Jess Franco; and – from what I’ve seen – he wasn’t exactly overly committed to having everything – even the characters and their motivations – make perfect sense.
 
Regardless, Blood still manages to evoke a hint of the classic movie cliffhangers.  It very much feels like something I could’ve watched on any Saturday afternoon television growing up – where the various Tarzan flicks or the reels of Buck Rogers, Flash Gordon, the Lone Ranger, and Dick Tracy often aired – and that nostalgia – whether intended or not – kept my interest.  (Warning: there’s a bit of nudity in there, and those bits would’ve been rightly excised for Saturday afternoon fare!)  Those stories leaned heavily on thrills, spills, and chills – as opposed to relying on clearly thought-out plot points – and this fact alone made me happy to finally have Blood on my hands.
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The Blood Of Fu Manchu (1968) was produced by Udastex Films, Ada Films, and Terra-Filmkunst.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Blue Underground.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure you that (damn!) the flick both looks and sounds incredible!  I say this because I’ve seen part of it previously via television broadcast (can’t remember when or where), and it looked awful, probably seized from some inferior print.  (Any bit of reading confirms that Blood has had several edited versions turning up in via a variety of outlets over the years; and I suspect it has never looked as good as it does here.)  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  This two-disc set includes an audio commentary from film historians Troy Howarth and Nathaniel Thompson (it’s good but kinda light on specifics to this picture), a few featurettes that explore the cast and production, trailers, a stills gallery, and the RiffTrax Edition of the flick for those who like that sort of thing.  (I do, and it was quite good.)
 
Recommended … but solely for cult fun.
 
Undoubtedly, The Blood Of Fu Manchu is – at best – a B-Picture, not a great one, indeed; and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with admitting that it’s more of a curious oddity than it is any theatrical success.  While the central story defies logic – nor is it all suitably resolved over the course of the 90-plus minutes for purists watching closely – the end result remains a cult experience that has something to offer to those of us willing to boldly go where few – if any – have gone before.  Reminiscent in many ways of the jungle adventure films of the 30’s and 40’s or even the Saturday morning serials of yesteryear, Blood definitely feels like it was inspired by the pulp novels that brought the villainous madman Fu to life even though it’s likely cut from a much different cloth, compliments of producer and screenwriter Towers.  Fun to the point of being downright goofy, at times, it remains glorious cheese that’ll likely only appeal to a few.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Blue Underground provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of The Blood Of Fu Manchu (1968) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

-- EZ
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In 1937, French director Julien Duvivier delivered Pépé le Moko to the silver screen.
 
Based on the 1937 novel of the same name by Henri La Barthe, Pépé – the tale of a charismatic criminal yearning for a life and love beyond his reach – was adapted for film by Duvivier, author La Barthe, Jacques Constant, and Henri Jeanson.  The feature’s Wikipedia.org entry indicates that at the time of the production the French film industry was experiencing a surge in emphasis on dialogue, what with the relatively recent introduction of sound to the theatrical experience; consequently, the writers’ expended a great deal of effort into crafting a script and its memorable characters into the people, place, and circumstances worthy of such a depiction and verbal repartee.  The result was a compelling motion picture that some have suggested served as one of the earliest influences of film noir, that distinctive style of storytelling which pushed the boundaries aesthetically of what was possible when recounting tales somewhat darker and more desperate than what had become the studio norm for so long.
 
As can happen with critically acclaimed foreign productions, Hollywood took notice.  After securing the U.S. rights to the domestic release of Pépé, film producer Walter Wanger effectively shelved the feature (until 1941) so that he could fast-track his very own interpretation of the La Barthe novel.  Wanger hired director John Cromwell – who had an already impressive track record at the time which included 1934’s Of Human Bondage, 1936’s Little Lord Fauntleroy, and 1937’s The Prisoner Of Zenda to his name – and then brought in screenwriter John Howard Lawson and successful novelist James M. Cain to pen the shooting script.  Actor Charles Boyer – a popular face whose star was on-the-rise – was cast in the central role as Pépé le Moko; and the glamorous starlet of Hedy Lamarr was cast Gaby, le Moko’s love interest and his inevitable ‘fatal attraction.’
 
The result?  1938’s Algiers was born, and it became a modest sensation all of its own.
 
Relying once more on the data from the film’s Wikipedia.org entry, Algiers became a box office sensation largely on Lamarr’s presence.  In fact, the film is credited as her American screen debut, making it reasonable to suspect that her work in 1933’s German-language Ecstasy – where the screen siren appeared fully nude – buoyed the audience’s curiosity to the point wherein they couldn’t refuse purchasing tickets.  Boyer, too, benefitted greatly from his participation in the picture, earning a 1939 Academy Awards nomination – his second – in the category of ‘Best Actor In A Leading Role.’  The picture earned three other nods – a ‘Best Actor In A Supporting Role’ nomination for Gene Lockhart along with citations for ‘Best Art Direction’ and ‘Best Cinematography’ – and yet at the end of the evening no one involved took home any gold statues.  That honor was ultimately secured by the French original which, in 1941, finally played on U.S. screens with Wanger’s blessing and secured the title of ‘Best Foreign Film’ for the U.S.’s National Board Of Review.
 
What a tangled web we weave … not all that dissimilar from the short, troubled, and tragic life of Pépé le Moko himself.
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(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 wanted jewel thief ensconced in the Casbah meets a beautiful woman who makes him long for an escape.”
 
As I’ve often said, “I just prefer watching older films.”
 
In short, there’s something to be said for seeing some innovative filmmaking the first time it was done as opposed to watching what exists as entertainment today.  While computer technology continues to push storytelling in bold, new directions, auteurs of these bygone eras had to work simply with what they had.  More often than not, this amounted to little more than a camera, some dollies, and clever staging; and, yet, a few good men and women somehow managed to keep breathing life into their various stories with far less gadgets and widgets for a few decades.  While not the first film to incorporate special effects, 1977’s Star Wars still deserves the lion’s share of the credit for changing the way pictures were both conceived and executed; before those days, producers were probably better equipped to plumb the depths of the human soul in ways with vastly less trickery.
 
The reason I bring this up regarding a somewhat obscure late 1930’s Crime/Drama is that Wanger and director Cromwell infused the le Moko story with a great degree of cinematic atmosphere in order to capture the far-off feel of Algiers as well as its seminal city of Casbah.  While director George Lucas similarly catapulted audiences to the distant peaceful planet of Naboo by utilizing shooting locations in Spain and Italy – cleverly augmenting them with computer-generated wizardry and physical production builds – Cromwell relied on the simpler techniques of rear projection (of actual locations from Algiers), matte paintings, and miniatures.  Even though there’s nearly a century between the production of these respective projects, no less attention-to-detail was required to bring the world to life; and I’d honestly argue Algiers deserves to be scene for that reason alone.  It’s about as effective as anything else I’ve seen produced in the 1930’s, and it’s really quite impressive technically.
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Veteran thief Pépé le Moko (played by Boyer) has taken up residence deep within the walls of the Casbah, a district within the city of Algiers which serves as home to the desperate, the downtrodden, and the morally despicable.  It’s grown so dangerous a place that the local police even refuse to patrol its streets out of fear for their own lives, leaving it the province of a single officer – Inspector Slimane (Joseph Calleia).  Rather than enforce the law, Slimane exercises the approach of allowing the criminal activity to exist while ingratiating himself as a kind of confidante to the lowlifes, secretly hoping for a time wherein he can lure them out of the lawless corridors into safer quarters.  Then – and only then – would he think to make an arrest: to consider otherwise would arguably mean certain suicide.
 
Reigning over the Casbah, le Moko maintains a courteous stranglehold over all activity.  Much like American Prohibition’s Al Capone was perceived as a ‘man of the people’ by most Chicagoans and thus allowed to grow a criminal empire, le Moko shakes hands and maneuvers politically amongst those who live within such shared isolation.  He’s incredibly popular.  He’s wonderfully resourceful.  An approving smile or nod from him grants the recipient the kind of currency that can make or break lives; and everyone in the Casbah knows it all too well.
 
The catalyst which upsets le Moko’s complacency is the arrival of Gaby (Lamarr), a debutante from France who is vacationing in Algeria with her wealthy (and much older) fiancé Andre Giraux (Robert Greig).  Immediately smitten with the woman, Pepe is equally enthralled with the pearls and diamonds she dares to flaunt on her person while walking about the wicked enclave, a choice that perhaps suggests to him psychologically she’s a kind of cultural equal or – at the very least – one not all that threatened by the presence of thieves.  Naturally, this sets the couple of as the ‘Romeo and Juliet’ of Algiers, suggesting their happy union is as inevitable as will be their tragic ending.  But as the Everly Brothers first sang back in 1960: “Love hurts.”
 
There’s a great deal of action and distraction to the general flow of Algiers’ plot, a structure that in some ways matches the labyrinthian layout of the famed city district.  Le Moko is given a gang of regulars, and some screen time is naturally occupied with establishing both their bona fides as well as some modestly shifting these allegiances about in order to give the film the requisite melodrama.  The criminal kingpin finds himself at odds with one or another of his mates over different reasons, not the least of which is the man’s growing unwillingness to steal Gaby’s jewels despite the promise to do so.  There’s even a love triangle instilled once Le Moko’s resident gal pal – Ines (Sigrid Gurie) – realizes that she’s ‘on the outs’ and being replaced by – gasp! – an outsider.  Some of it has been so done before that we’re still seeing it play out up in the lights today; but it helps knowing that this is little more than the usual backdrop around which stories of people in conflict have been assembled since time began.  Fundamentally, Algiers is no different.
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As beautiful as she is, Lamarr is sadly wasted in the role of Gaby chiefly because the part was written so plainly it could’ve been filled by any starlet’s glass slippers.  The actress never brings anything fresh or vibrant to the screen here, instead relegated to smiling and batting eyelashes now and again, actions intended to justify Pepe’s carnal fascination with her (as if that were needed).  There’s never any hint of range to what she brings to the project.  Even her closing scenes – ones which were supposed to show some loss or despondency over what she perceives as love lost – work a bit too similar to expressions of delight or satisfaction earlier in the picture, thus robbing them of any real impact.
 
Instead, actress Gurie emerges as one to watch here.  Audiences get to see as she grows increasingly frustrated with Pepe – her onetime paramour – as he grows more and more enamored with the idea of abandoning not only the Casbah but the entire country in favor of his native France.  Her disappointment turns to envy only then to evolve into scorn strong enough to put her lover’s life at risk with the authorities.  It’s about as good a performance – or, at least, as convincing – as I think you’ll find from a 1930’s potboiler as ever was.  Some might argue that the script merely gave her more to do, but there’s something to be said for her level of efficiency at conveying the mixed emotions, nonetheless.
 
Additionally, Algiers emerges as a bit of marvel technically.  As I mentioned above, Alexander Toluboff received a 1939 Academy Awards nomination for his exceptional production design here, bringing the incessantly winding corridors and sometimes otherworldly flavor of the Casbah to life for audiences.  When small details can make or break even the smallest scenes, Toluboff and his team clearly wanted these buildings, alleys, and rooms to breathe beyond the screen.  There’s clearly a great degree of deception accomplished with shadows and the like, but what survives looks like a vivid depiction of some distant village in ways too many to count.
 
Lastly, cinematographer James Wong Howe occasionally elevates his game to a different level when the story requires it.  A great deal of the action is rendered with reasonably traditional framing – i.e. Pepe and Gaby’s several sit-downs, the many room sequences with multiple players, etc. – but as our lead’s chaos turns more frantic Howe takes viewers literally on a trip down that winding road.  It’s as if he hoisted the camera onto Pepe’s shoulders and took you on a tour through the darkened alleys, allowing you to experience the growing desperation to ‘get out while getting was good’ regardless of the consequences or threat to personal safety.  Rarely have I seen this done – much less attempted – in an older picture; and it achieves exactly the same level of frenzy and elation I suspect the central character was feeling.  A true union of thought and idea.
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Algiers (1938) was produced by Walter Wanger Productions.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Film Masters.  As for the technical specifications?  Given that the film fell into public domain in 1966, I’m honestly unaware of any ‘updating’ and/or ‘reformatting’ that may’ve occurred regarding this release; but – even though I’m no video expert – everything looks and sounds pretty good.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  The disc boasts a commentary track from film historians Karen Bible and Roy Windham, and there’s also a collector’s booklet (from Windham) that recounts some of the challenges in transforming the story from script to screen.
 
Strongly Recommended.
 
While I’ll admit that I was quite smitten with Algiers (1938), I’m not entirely certain it has the kind of lasting appeal other inspired films from its era retain.  Regular readers likely know of my fondness for Citizen Kane (1941), The Maltese Falcon (1941), and Casablanca (1942) – three flicks I can watch over and over and over – and Algiers surprisingly fits nicely on the intellectual shelf next to them.  My central problem with revisiting it would be the fact that because I was never seduced with Pepe’s infatuation over Gaby I didn’t buy into his desire to leave and risk it all for her.  That aspect of the story seemed manufactured and inauthentic, the product of a storyteller’s imagination and not the result of two people falling in true love.  Sure, the gal looked great … but is that all there is?  Lamarr – as an actress – just had nothing to offer, so much so I didn’t believe their union was anything more than wishful thinking or a passing fancy.  Le Moko would’ve been better off staying holed up with the vastly more interesting Ines.  She looked as good, and – undoubtedly – she would’ve required less maintenance.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Film Masters – via Allied Vaughn – provided me a complimentary Blu-ray of Algiers (1938) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

-- EZ
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So many movies ... so little time ...

On this day in 2015 (in Canada), Cherry Tree enjoyed its first presentation ever when it was screened for audiences of the Fantasia International Film Festival.  Directed by David Keating from a story by Brendan McCarthy, the film starred Anna Walton, Naomi Battrick, Sam Hazeldine, and others. 

According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:

"A 15-year-old makes a pact with a witches’ coven to save her father’s life."

-- EZ
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So many movies ... so little time ...

On this day in 2014 (in the U.S.), audiences in attendance of the San Diego ComicCon were treated to the first theatrical screening of Batman: Assault On Arkham.  Directed by Jay Oliva and Ethan Spaulding from a story by Heath Corson and others, the film featured the voice talents of Kevin Conroy, Neal McDonough, Hynden Walch, and others. 

According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:

"Batman works desperately to find a bomb planted by the Joker while Amanda Waller hires her newly formed Suicide Squad to break into Arkham Asylum to recover vital information stolen by the Riddler."

-- EZ
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As I've often said, entertainment -- and entertainers in general -- come in all shapes and sizes; and -- it should go without saying -- every conceivable industry that can be monetized employs and promotes the very best.

Back in the days of my youth, I enjoyed a bit of professional wrestling -- not a lot -- but I'd never had the chance to see Hulk Hogan live.  Honestly, I think he was probably even too big back then for him to appear on the venues I went to even though I do believe I recall seeing him some televised bouts.  In any event, he was certainly a big name draw for the sport for quite a long time; and the man even parlayed his popularity into some movies and TV gigs here and there.  I don't think anyone who watched Rocky III will forget him trading blows with the Italian Stallion ... all for the sake of giving fans a little bit of what they wanted.  Heck, even Science Fiction and Fantasy got the man for a brief encounter in 1991 when he headlined Suburban Commando for New Line Cinema.

In any event ...

Word reached the Information Superhighway of the man's passing today.  Though it's early -- and I've not seen it confirmed -- the suspicion is that the man suffered a heart attack.

Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Hulk Hogan.

May he rest in peace.

-- EZ