Two recent box sets – Arrow’s J-Horror Rising and Severin’s All the Haunts Be Ours Vol. 2 – provide a dizzying range of horror and fantasy movies from multiple cultures and cinematic traditions. Each set includes a range of extras which illuminate not only the cultural differences but also similarities in theme and emotional impact displayed by these movies.
Severin’s third Danza Macabra box set contains four Spanish movies from the early 1970s; it’s a mixed bag, from the arty anthology Cake of Blood (1971) and the poorly realized Necrophagous (Miguel Madrid, 1971) to John Gilling’s Cross of the Devil (1975), which echoes Amando de Ossorio’s Blind Dead movies (1972-75), and León Klimovsky’s The Night of the Walking Dead (1975), in which a dying noblewoman is attracted to the vampire lifestyle. A more modern range of Spanish horrors is presented in Lionsgate’s 3-disk DVD set 6 Films to Keep You Awake, a collection of short features produced in 2006 by Narciso Ibáñez Serrador, who recruited other well-known genre filmmakers for a revival of his 1960s television anthology series Tales to Keep You Awake.
Severin’s recent release of Buddy Giovinazzo’s fourth feature, The Unscarred (2000), on disk reconfirms this outsider as an intriguing auteur; a chamber piece in which the psychological games of four old friends grown increasingly darker is a taut, polished piece of work which sent me back to watch his raw first feature, Combat Shock (1986), again. As technically different as the two movies are, both reveal a filmmaker with a bleak view of the world tempered by a deep empathy for broken people.
Our relationship to movies is complex; we know that we’re watching illusions, yet the intellectual and emotional responses we experience are very real. Movies give us access to a seemingly infinite range of experiences which take us out of out immediate lives. Two recent releases delve into this phenomenon in visceral ways — Giuliano Montaldo’s Closed Circuit (1978) addresses the metaphysics of movie watching with humour and suspense, while Charlie Victor Romeo (2013) provides disturbing access to an aspect of real life we might prefer not to think about: the moments during which flight crews try to deal with catastrophic technical failures immediately preceding air crashes.
As usual, there’s no coherent pattern to what I spend my time watching. In the past few months, I given my overtaxed attention to quite a few movies from the ’70s and ’80s – British sex comedies and cop movies, Italian gialli, French and Spanish thrillers, Chinese martial arts movies and an Australian superhero musical – plus a pair of recent Korean action movies and two ultra-low-budget do-it-yourself movies from the ’90s.
Severin’s All the Haunts Be Ours box set resurrects an interesting independent American feature from the early ’80s, Avery Crounse’s Eyes of Fire (1983) uses folk horror elements as a metaphor for colonialism and the violence inherent in Manifest Destiny.
It’s been a good year for movies on disk, with a remarkable range of releases from many companies which are devoting considerable resources to rediscovering, restoring and preserving movies in numerous genres. Ranging across nationalities and spanning cinema history, there was plenty to divert attention from a real world which has become so depressing and exhausting.