DVD Wish List III
By Chris Hyde
August 2, 2004
The world is already utterly awash in DVDs. Is it enough? No. A thousand times no.
Since we’re living in an era wherein this month alone will see digital versions of Videodrome, Forbidden Zone, Roller Boogie, Shaolin Soccer, Duel, The Apple, The Bad Seed, Invasion of the Bee Girls, The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe and Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural (among many others), I suppose that one could feel like there’s already enough on disc to satisfy any normal person. And perhaps that’s true — but what about us abnormal people? Need we form some sort of psychobabble support group or file a class-action suit against these cruel companies that have failed to deliver the things that we need in order to live?
Thankfully, things haven’t reached that sort of social or legalistic nadir just yet. Through the therapy provided by an occasional column ranting about the missing pieces of film and television history yet to come to DVD, I’ve been learning to cope with the problem. So welcome to this installment devoted to lamenting the tragic gaps that still exist in the industry’s transition to a new format — but realize too that this selection is but a mere fragment of what still lies out there waiting to be reissued. The following will also for the most part attempt to cover material that has yet to hit DVD in any region, though there may be an entry or two that has already made its debut in some far-flung corner of the world. So without further ado, let’s take a long look at some past gems that have yet to come back to us the way they should.
World For Ransom (1954)
Tough guy auteur Robert Aldrich has a few films in his resume that it’d be nice to see return again (the anti-Hollywood screed The Legend of Lylah Clare, the Hudson-Malone-Douglas western The Last Sunset and the Rossana Podestà biblical epic Sodom and Gomorrah, for three) but tops on my list is this unaccredited noir that predates the director’s stunningly nihilistic Kiss Me Deadly. This one’s set in Singapore and stars the likes of Dan Duryea, Nigel Bruce and Keye Luke. Add in the helmsmanship of one of the best genre directors of all time and his typical cinematographic counterpart Joseph F. Biroc (who shot fifteen of Aldrich’s films) and you’ve certainly got something worth unearthing.
Skullduggery (1970)
Is it possible that I’m the only one on the planet who wishes for a new version of this ridiculous green period piece starring Burt Reynolds as a fortune hunter who teams up with an archaeologist and finds a tribe of ape-men in the deep jungle? Yeah, I guess it’s quite possible that I am. It's a prime example of the sort of misguided political commentary that often made itself into film during an era where production costs were relatively low and there were enough drugs around to make all sorts of stuff sound like a good idea. Even if it wasn't.
Hawaii Five-0 (1968-1980)
From the television side of the story comes this nearly always entertaining cop drama set in the land of Maui wowie and the spam musubi. Starring the intense theatrics of star Jack Lord and his crew of talented sidekicks, Five-0 for most of its run provided well written crime stories that are both fun to watch and maintain a high level of quality. And who can forget guest stars like Yaphet Kotto, Nancy Kwan, Sal Mineo, Ricardo Montalban, Jackie Coogan, Farley Granger or Gavin MacLeod (as Big Chicken, a tough talking drug dealer!)—and that’s just the first year! Book ‘em, Dan-O. Season one.
Golden Bat (1966)
Modern movie fans who have become used to seeing their sequential art favorites turn up quickly at the megaplex may feel like this is a brand new trend — but rest assured, ahistorical ones, that the idea of making costumed superheroes go celluloid is an old one indeed. A case in point is this lost bit of '60s Japanese arcana adapted from a manga of the 1930s and given a freshly hip pop sensibility. And if that - as well as the masked, hysterically laughing hero - isn’t enough for you to pine for this one, what about a young Sonny Chiba behind a skull mask? Can’t resist that angle, can ya?
Desperate Lives (1982)
Previously mentioned in one of my other lamentations about the paucity of the TV movie on DVD, this bit of anti-drug hysteria holds particular nostalgic value for someone who remembers watching it in a suitably befogged dormitory room. Highlights include an appearance by Diane Ladd (who did her share of TV movie work in such epics as Guyana Tragedy: The Story of Jim Jones, The Devil’s Daughter and Thaddeus Rose and Eddie — with Johnny Cash and Bo Hopkins!), atrocious music by Rick Springfield and a wonderfully befuddled performance by a young Helen Hunt. Oh, and Dr Joyce Brothers shows up too. (Doesn’t she always?) With the recent marketplace renaissance of the '70s Linda Blair teleplay Born Innocent, maybe there’s hope for some of these small screen wonders yet. (I’d like Sarah T. Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic and Dawn: Portrait of a Runaway too, please).
Frank Film (1973)
Another neglected corner of film history in the realm of DVD is the animated short film. There have been, to be sure, many nice releases in this area such as the Looney Tunes Golden Collection, the Walt Disney Treasures line, the Norman McLaren SE and the like — but still, there are far too many missing pieces of the past. A casual glance at the market shows just how underrepresented are the works of the Fleishers and Hubleys, George Pal, Bob Godfrey, Jimmy Murakami, Gene Deitch and so many others still are in the new format (and don’t even get me started on where all of the MGM, Paramount, Universal and United Artists cartoons are). There’s lots of other works that I remember catching during the '70s via the comely Jean Marsh and the PBS series she hosted (The International Animation Festival) but chief among them is this autobiographical, dual soundtrack, stop-motion all out image assault. Put it on a compilation or something, I don’t care. Just get it out.
Nightmare Alley (1947)
Sure, you can dig this one up on DVD-R, if’n you want — but that’s still no excuse for there to be no real legitimate edition of Edmund Goulding’s sleazy carnival ride of a flick. Combining excellent source material (a novel by obscure writer and suicide William Lindsay Gresham) with the A-list screenwriting skill of Jules Furthman (who wrote a number of well-known Howard Hawks and Josef von Sternberg films) results in a taut and nightmarish tale of the lower depths of society. Lensed by Oscar winner Lee Garmes and featuring a surprisingly stellar performance by Tyrone Power as lead lowlife, it’s high time that this sideshow hit the midway again.
Ziegfield Follies (1946)
I’ll confess, I’ve always wanted to live inside a musical motion picture. The world would be so much more exciting if people would spontaneously burst into song and launch themselves into elaborately choreographed dance numbers for no apparent reason. That leads me to our current unreleased number, a '40s musical that debuted with the immodest tag line “Greatest Production Since the Birth of Motion Pictures!” Hmm. It doesn’t quite live up to that, but this plotless piece of fluff has a nice musical score, an all-star cast (William Powell, Cyd Charisse, Judy Garland, Lucille Ball, Esther Williams, et cetera) and was headed up by a raft of excellent directorial talent — Roy del Ruth, Norman Taurog, George Sidney and the great Vincent Minelli (among others). And since this movie contains the only in-their-prime onscreen partnering of Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire, you’d think for posterity alone that it might make the shelves.
Unearthly Stranger (1963)
This early '60s cheapie is reputed to be a neglected tale of aliens coming to earth to disrupt humanity’s ability to travel into space. With few special effects on hand, the film apparently relies on clever script devices and a generally reserved British atmosphere to build tension. With John Neville and the aforementioned Jean Marsh, this mysterious bit of English black-and-white fantasy surely needs a reassessment.
Pray for the Wildcats (1974)
The brief consideration of TV movies above led me on a nostalgic trip into the idiot box house of memories to ponder the legions of material from the era of the Movie of the Week that still lie dormant today. Where, for example, is Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark with Kim Darby battling tiny demon creatures? Howzabout The Stranger Within, and its raw meat chomping Barbara Eden in a Richard Matheson scripted story of alien abduction? Olivia de Havilland, Walter Pidgeon and Joseph Cotten in the eerie Ray Bradbury number The Screaming Woman? The Tenth Level? Black Noon? Smash-up on Interstate Five? Hello? Amazingly, all of these pale in comparison to the unbelievable opus Pray for the Wildcats, where TV superstars Robert Reed (aka Mike Brady), Andy Griffith (Andy Taylor as well as Matlock) and William Shatner (Captain James T. Kirk) team up with Starcrash alum Marjoe Gortner for some mad Mexican motorbike mayhem. Also along for the ride is Angie Dickinson, Sgt. Pepper Anderson herself. A tragically overlooked treasure.
Devil’s Doorway (1950)
Filmmaker Anthony Mann’s classic period is fairly well represented on DVD (though why his American masterpieces Man of the West and El Cid are only available in expensive foreign editions, I do not know) but this transitional picture is still missing. Devil’s Doorway represents the director’s switch from film noir to the western as his primary focus, a happenstance that would eventually lead to the famous Mann/Stewart films and reach its apotheosis in the previously noted metawestern Man of the West. This picture’s strengths include its progressive but not preachy message, wonderful character actor Edgar Buchanan and the formal advances made by Mann and his cinematographer the great John Alton - which alone would be enough to recommend it.
Dinner for Adele (1977)
This one’s a Czech film starring detective Nick Carter in a parodic story that revolves around the gumshoe searching for a countess’ lost dog. What he finds, however, is a crazed scientist with a man-eating plant as companion. With stop-motion animation by seminal figure Jan Svankmajer, it’s a unique eastern European extravaganza that has rarely (if ever) been seen in the States. And if I can’t get this on DVD, I’d sure settle for Borowczyk’s equally obscure The Theatre of Mr. and Mrs. Kabal.
The Thirteenth Letter (1951)
While I’d sure like to see this particular Otto Preminger-directed noir that was adapted from the same short story as Clouzot’s Le Corbeau, the lack of a DVD of this movie also gives me a chance to briefly rant about the shabby domestic treatment thus far of this filmmaker’s historic crime films. Is there any good reason why we need the Europeans to steward our cinema history, as gems like Whirlpool and Where the Sidewalk Ends get Region 2 releases yet continue to languish in their country of origin? It’s reflective of the way it took Cahiers du Cinema to celebrate the art of directors like Mann, Boetticher, Walsh, Siegel and the like while they were being dismissed as mere genre hacks here. With Warners’ Film Noir Collection and disc of Criss Cross, film noir has had a good 2004 — but let’s see some more Preminger, shall we? (And OK, I’ll even simply settle for digital versions of his stint as Mr Freeze on the Batman TV show).
Journey to the Unknown (1968)
Let’s visit Great Britain now for another television series that deserves a second life. I only know this 17 episode Hammer horror/scifi/fantasy show by reputation, but given the skilled persons associated with it, I think it’s a can’t-miss prospect. Seemingly similar to the domestic small screen creepfest The Outer Limits, Journey to the Unknown sports offbeat storylines and a plethora of second-tier character actors that you’d recognize from the historic studios more familiar theatrical fare. What would also appear to contribute to the quality of this production is the line of capable directors who helmed episodes, like Don Chaffey and Roy Ward Baker. Note to UK companies: if I can’t have this I’d like the run of Roald Dahl stories from the first two years of Tales of the Unexpected.
Well folks, there you have it. Another laundry list of the missing, sure to whet the appetite of any enterprising DVD viewer. You can keep yourself busy for now with all that other stuff that’s on the shelves, but always remember that there’s soooooo much more out there waiting to be discovered. In the meantime, I’ll be eyeballing the release schedules to see if’n any of these turn up so I can take them off my watchlist. And stay tuned to this space for further updates on the neglected pieces of our past that have not been brought into the 21st century in the way that they should. For there are many things that shouldn’t stay analog for ever.
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