Showing posts with label Kultur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kultur. Show all posts

Gene Wilder's Satanic Scarecrow Flick from the 70s

Okay, I get why today's entry isn't going to appeal to the average Blumhouse fan.  It's self-evidently artsy-fartsy.  But I'm surprised it doesn't seem to have been embraced by the horror community at all, and allowed to become surprisingly obscure.  I've seen plenty of threads in r/horror and similar asking for evil scarecrow flicks, yielding suggestions far inferior to this, and few with such star power.  Specifically, I'm talking about The Scarecrow, Boris Sagal (The Omega Man)'s Emmy Award winning 1972 adaptation of Percy Mackaye's 1908 play.  It's a Broadway Theatre Archive production, but to be clear, if you've never seen one, these aren't merely filmed staged performances.  This is a fully produced and edited movie with varied shots, edited takes, etc etc.  I wouldn't expect it to overshadow Dark Night Of the Scarecrow, Dark Harvest or Scarecrows, but it should at least be placed on the same page in the record books.
It's alive!
This one in particular is a sort of expansion of the Nathaniel Hawthorne story Feathertop.  It follows the same rough plot: a witch brings a scarecrow to life to seduce the daughter of a judge who wronged her.  But this one is much more dramatically complicated, creepier and thematically rich.  This time it isn't just a random scarecrow brought to life but the reincarnation of the witch and justice's long dead son, and the devil himself is his companion.  Comparing the Natalie Woods adaptation of Feathertop to this is like going from Disney's Beauty and the Beast to Cocteau's La Bete et la Bete, or from Alice In Wonderland to Dennis Potter's Alice.
Now I don't want to give the wrong impression.  This is not a body count horror; there's no blood and the supernatural special effects are rudimentary.  But not many modern horror flicks deliver like the scene where Lord Ravensbane agrees to sing for the minister, the mayor and his mistress.  Gene Wilder brings the intense eccentricity he displayed as Willy Wonka in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  It's a wild, layered performance that initially appears broad and simplistic, but expands and twists to eventually cover all the human, and bizarrely inhuman, bases.  Blythe Danner is both winsome and sufficiently irritating with her maddeningly vacillating affections.  And you've got a wonderful supporting cast of 70s television stars, all delivering satirically punny, Shakespearian-style dialogue.

This 2003 DVD from Kultur, one in their long line of Broadway Theatre Archive releases, is unfortunately it our only option.  Why "unfortunately?"  Well...
2003 Kultur DVD.
For starters, the picture is extra fullscreen at 1.29:1 and very interlaced.  It looks like they've applied too much sharpening tool to out of focus footage.  The contrast is low and the colors are bland.  But, if you're used to old television on old single-layer DVDs, it's not worse than what you're probably used to trawling through.  This is clearly based on a tape master, but I'm not sure if these BTA programs were shot on film and just transferred to videotape for television, or if it's tape all the way down (I didn't catch any tell-tale signs of film damage or cigarette burns).  The DVD throws up a disclaimer saying that, "[t]he Broadway Theatre Archive has attempted to preserve, as closely as possible, the original audio and visual components of this classic program. Because the program is digitally remastered, its high resolution may reveal the limitations of the technology available at the time of production."  But if you look at what Kultur did to Bondarchuk's gorgeous War and Peace, it's clear these guys could make anything look like garbage.  I only own a handful of Kultur DVDs, but they all look like this, BTA or not.
For audio, we just have the original mono in Dolby Digital 2.0.  There's a bit of buzz to it, but it's clearer and stronger than you might expect based on the picture quality.  There are no subtitles and no extras, not even a trailer (though I doubt one was ever made, so you can't fault Kultur for that), except for a little 5-minute clip-show of other Broadway Theatre releases.  It also includes an insert with act/ chapter stops.
But at the end of the day, hell yeah I recommend this.  I'd love, love, love if a boutique label would restore this from the original negatives.  Or, if there's no such thing, maybe a label like TerrorVision could give us a blu-ray.  But I'm certainly not holding my breath, so this old DVD will have to do, alongside our dupey looking Tales From the Crypt boxed sets and Masterpiece Theater DVDs.  Unfortunately, this one is harder to find for a reasonable price than most of the BTA discs, I guess because it's a rare cult/ horror themed one (the only one?).  Still, you won't regret the trouble you take to track it down.  ...And, actually, it should overshadow Dark Harvest.

The Grand Epic, War and Peace

This is an upgrade I've been aching for since long before it was announced: Criterion's new blu of Sergei Bondarchuk's truly epic War and Peace (1966).  This is possibly the biggest film production ever, and also a movie that's long struggled to get a proper, HQ release - and we'll delve into why - so it was somewhat predetermined that this BD was going to be a bit of a compromise.  But having the two previous home video iterations - which we'll look at, too - it was also painfully obvious how badly in need it was of any kind of upgrade it could get.  And I have to say, now that I've got it, while it might be disappointing to imagine what an ideal 4k restoration of the original 75mm original camera negatives might've been, this is still quite a satisfying leap forward from anything we've had before.
Usually when people talk about how big a film's production is, they start defining it by budget.  Titanic spent X amount, Avengers spent Y.  Of course inflation makes that a lot more complicated.  But it's uniquely impossible to quantify in this case, because the entire Soviet government was behind this film.  War and Peace was years in the making, and I doubt you'll ever see larger armies in any battle scene ever.  At least in terms of real human participants as opposed to CGI cartoonery.  But we'll never know the costs, because the film was given all of this for free.  All of the country's museums were compelled to give up anything in their production, from paintings on the wall to vintage military equipment.  In the scene where Napoleon flees the country on his sled (spoilers for anyone who skipped out on history class), that's the actual sled the real Napoleon fled away in.  The army spent months and months playing the role of soldiers, providing tens of thousands of extras, real general organizing the military units, and even more military serving as the crew, building towers and flying helicopters for the filmmakers.  For free.  So I don't know how it could possibly be pinned down definitively, but I daresay this might not only be the greatest epic spectacle ever filmed, but the grandest that ever will be filmed.
And that's definitely reason enough to watch this film.  That scene in Aquaman was cute, but it's another viewing experience entirely when you know you're witnessing something that actually took place in front of the cameras.  But what makes War and Peace so much more impressive, and something greater than just novelty of its scope, is that it's a great little film at its core, with memorable characters and meaningful writing.  Of course, it helps when your source material is Tolstoy's greatest novel.  And the fact that this is film is over seven hours long (it's divided into four parts, so you don't have to buttathon it) allows it to stay faithful to the novel and history in a way that the previous American adaptation with Audrey Hepburn could never even have attempted.  So while yes, the battle scenes, and the thrilling depiction of the burning of Moscow are powerful and impressive, the memories that stick with me the most are the little moments with Natasha and her servants or Bondarchuk's surprisingly relatable performance as Pierre.
So War and Peace debuted on DVD as a 3-disc set from Kultur Video in 2002.  They actually still sell it on their site to this day.  It's fullscreen and completely barebones.  So audiences were more than ready to double-dip for a restored widescreen version from Ruscico, and distributed by Image, the following year.  It was a still troubled, but for its time pretty sweet 5-disc, anamorphic widescreen special edition (there's also a 4-disc version, which is similarly packaged but chucks the bonus 5th disc of extras.  It was packed with interviews and documentaries, but you'll see from the comparison below why we were still excited to finally hear of an updated version, with Criterion finally releasing the film in HD this summer.
1) 2002 Kultur DVD; 2) 2003 Ruscico DVD; 3) 2019 Criterion BD.
The screenshots speak pretty clearly for themselves here, but I'll detail the differences.  Kultur's DVD, of course, is fullscreen at 1.30:1.  It's faded with print damage that's been cleaned up in the later restorations (note the dirt on the general's cheek in the second set of shots.  It's also interlaced, but the softness of the transfer that looks to be taken from a tape master almost covers it up by smoothing away all the fine detail, including the combing.  So then Ruscico comes along and restores the film... Now it's widescreen (at a slightly windowboxed 2.29:1), the dirt's cleaned up, the colors are more authentic.  Honestly, if it wasn't terribly interlaced, it would still hold up fairly well for a DVD.  Criterion fixes that, of course, while also matting things just a little tighter to a more traditional 2.35:1 AR.  The colors are also more vibrant and the standard def compression is also cleaned up, but detail is definitely not what one might've hoped.  This is a new 2k scan of the 35mm elements that Mosfilm restored, but it's a sad case of the original negatives being unavailable.  War and Peace was a rare 70mm film, but they had to use "multiple partial 35mm negatives from various archives," so this should be a really impressive spectacle of fine, filmic detail alongside films like 2001 and Lawrence of Arabia.  But instead it just looks like a respectable, attractive but low budget feature presentation.  Grain is fairly well resolved, though it gets soft at times, but you can see why they didn't even bother scanning this is in 4k.

Kultur gives us a pretty simple, but clean, Russian mono track in Dolby with burnt in English subtitles.  Ruscico gave the track a new 5.1 mix, plus threw in English and French dubs, also in 5.1.  And they provided optional English, Arabic, Chinese, Dutch, French, German, Greek, Hebrew, Italian, Japanese, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish and Swedish subs.  Criterion reigns that in a bit, giving us the Russian and English 5.1 mixes in DTS-HD with optional English subtitles.  Unfortunately, the original mono track has pretty much been ditched.
So Criterion's blu naturally renders the previous DVDs obsolete, except for one.  The fifth bonus disc in the Ruscico set includes a little treasure trove of extras, almost none of which made their way to the new release.  There are some great, in-depth interviews with Vasili Lanovoy, DP Anatoly Petritsky, composer Vyacheslav Ovchinnikov (who gets a little long-winded with his opinions on his whole career and all the filmmakers he's worked with besides just the War and Peace stuff) and the head of Mosfilm, Karen Shakhnazarov, who shares some great information on the history and current state of the film, and the hows and whys of their restoration.   There's a short clip of actress Irina Skobtseva giving a talk (probably before a screening) about working with Bondarchuk and her time on the film.  Then there are several vintage, Russian featurettes (made for television?) about Bondarchuk, Tolstoy and the novel, all of which are actually rather good and fairly informative.  Finally, there's a substantial, also vintage, 'making of' documentary that's full of fascinating behind-the-scenes footage that gives very welcome insight into the fascinating story behind this film.
From the doc: the camera crew has actually caught on fire at this point.
Criterion includes this documentary (in fact, there version might be slightly more complete), but all of that other great "Bonus" content has been lost.  Fortunately, however, there's a whole bunch of new stuff in its place.  There's a second vintage, making of doc; this time a German one, that borrows a lot of footage from the first one, but also has enough new content to make it worthwhile.  There's a new interview with Petritsky, where he's refreshingly candid (seriously, watch this one), and an interview with Bondarchuk's son.  They uncovered a somewhat insightful, but also somewhat silly, 60's television special about Ludmila Savelyeva, and finally one of the excellent, trademark Criterion academic video essays, this time by historian Denise J. Youngblood.  Also included is a poster/ booklet with a notes by Ella Taylor.
So this is an absolute must-own release of a truly essential film.  Yes, it's disappointing that we're not getting the full 70mm experience Bondarchuk's work deserves.  It's easy to conjure up a breathtaking 4k Ultra HD experience in one's mind, and then measure this disc as lacking in comparison.  But, uh, you go to Russia and dredge up the original negatives.  Until then, this is the best we can get, and honestly, it's still a very impressive and rewarding watch.  And if you're a real enthusiast, you might also want to track down a Russico set for that fifth bonus disc.  The two sets of extras really compliment each other and add up to great special edition.