Now on Blu-ray: Monsters, Trash, Intrigue, and Killer Action In A Dirty Dozen From Kino Lorber Studio Classics

8 Million Ways to Die is considered by some to be the film that killed directing legend Hal Ashby (Five Easy Pieces, Harold and Maude, Being There). Ripped from his control during the post-production process, the film that went out to theatres was not his edit and it was a very emotional experience that proved draining for the director who was already facing his own personal demons. The result is less than ideal, but in hindsight it's easy to see what the film could've been, and wonderful to marvel at the performances of leading men Jeff Bridges and Andy Garcia.

While the '70s was the decade of the dirty New Yrok crime film, the focus turned to the other coast in the '80s when the L.A. Noir became the thing to do. When alcoholic ex-cop Scudder (Bridges) is summoned by an escort (Alexandra Paul) to help her escape the life, he gets pulled into a world of violence, drugs, and death that he hadn't bargained for. Scudder, with his sidekick Sarah (Rosanna Arquette), find themselves pitted against gang boss Angel Maldonado (Andy Garcia) in a fight for survival. Garish, idiosyncratic, and violent, 8 Million Ways to Die is a great snapshot of actors at their peak.

Kino Lorber's Blu-ray is a solid release. There's no mention in the materials of a new scan for this release, but it is definitely pleasing to the eye, if perhaps not revelatory. The bonus materials really make up for it in this case, though, as Kino goes above and beyond their usual work. Not only to we get a scholarly audio commentary from Nathaniel Thompson and Howard S. Berger, there are also some great and often very emotional interviews with stars Rosanna Arquette, Andy Garcia, and Alexandra Paul, along with the writer of the source novel, Lawrence Block. Everyone has great things to say about the experience and working with Ashby, sadly, several of the interviews also include tears when the performers talk about the film's fate both in terms of authorial control from Ashby and with the critics.

Toward the end of the second World War, a pair of enemy combatants find themselves stranded on a desert island with no hope of rescue. Over the course of several months they learn to live together and even to work together in spite of a deep-seated animosity that keep them at arm's length. The American soldier, played by legendary tough guy Lee Marvin, doesn't trust his Japanese counterpart, played by the equally legendary Toshiro Mifune, any further than he can throw him, but if they either one of them is to survive, they have to broker a truce.

Director John Boorman's Hell in the Pacific is a fascinating experiment of a film that puts an immense amount of faith in the performances of these two men, who are alternately vying for supremacy and attempting to come together. In an effort to make the audience a part of this risky endeavor, Boorman's film was initially unsubtitled, meaning that while the majority of the audience was able to understand Marvin's pain and headspace, Mifune's replies and retorts were just as foreign to them as they were to Marvin's character. This choice makes for a very interesting viewing experience, as we are thrust into a world of confusion and anger along with our hero.

Upon its release, the studio was unsatisfied with the ending Boorman produced for the film and they went ahead and unceremoniously recut the final moments, turning this intellectual project into a nonsensical mess just as the credits rolled. Originally the film ended with the two men, who had built what could almost be referred to as a grudging respect for one another, devolving into bitter enemies in the final moments when they were reintroduced to the trappings of their enmity. However, the studio seemed to find this ending too open to interpretation, and instead cut off the last minute or two with a literal bomb dropping on the pair, in what is one of the most head-scratching studio-meddling jobs I've ever seen. Kino Lorber have included the original ending, which played in some territories outside of the US, as an alternate viewing option on their Blu-ray release, and it improves the film by leaps and bounds. Sometimes directors know what they are doing.

The Disc:

Kino Lorber's Blu-ray of Hell in the Pacific is a beautiful disc that does justice to the fine cinematography of Conrad Hall (In Cold Blood) and the terrific score of Lalo Schifrin (Bullitt). The transfer looks quite good, and as most of the film is shot in daylight, the levels of detail and contrast are excellent. Definitely an improvement over DVD.

An audio commentary track is provided by film historians Travis Crawford and Bill Ackerman, who do a great job of not only connecting the themes and devices of the film to the rest of Boorman's oeuvre, but also providing background on Marvin and Mifune along the way. It's a great audio track that feels both authoritative and relaxed at the same time, which is the way I like them. There are also interviews with Boorman, who discusses his time on the production and the challenges of working with a performer who didn't understand his language, and art director Anthony Pratt, who talks about the oddity of a production more or less at-sea.

Director Paul Leder's A*P*E is a dreadful film. A no-budget cash grab in the vein of King Kong, A*P*E transports a 36-foot great ape to South Korea where it terrorizes the locals and threatens to lay waste to Seoul.

While the film is notoriously awful, it certainly isn't without its notable attributes, though most of these are not of the positive kind. A*P*E was shot and projected in 3-D, and a 3-D version is included on this disc, though I am not equipped to review that version. In addition, it is worth noting that the film marks the feature debut of actress Joanna Kerns, who stars as a Marilyn Monroe-esque actress who has traveled to Korea for make a film. Kerns would later become a household name in US households through the '80s as the mother on TV's Growing Pains alongside Alan Thicke and Kirk Cameron.

Our monstrous beast is very clearly a man in the cheapest gorilla costume I've ever seen, who does battle with giant snakes, great white sharks, and innumerable toy cars and tanks in what must be the least convincing fantasy action sequences I've ever seen. It's all so stupid you almost have to laugh, but even the laughs are few and far between in this monument to ineptitude. This one is so bad, it's awful.

The Disc:

What can I say, A*P*E is on Blu-ray now, what a time to be alive. It looks fine, I guess. As I mentioned above, I can't judge the 3-D, but I don't think it would be able to distract from this disaster.

The disc features an audio commentary from Chris Alexander (formerly of Fangoria and Rue Morgue magazines) and historian Hillary Hess. To be honest, it was hard to muster any enthusiasm even for the commentary on this film, though it is effective and informative.

Stephen Gyllenhall's Certain Fury is a glorious slice of '80s trash action cinema. Starring the dynamic duo of Irene Cara (Fame) and Tatum O'Neal (Paper Moon), the film paints of picture of a pair of fugitives on the run from a brutal crime they didn't commit. In order to survive, they'll have to brave the skeezy underworld in an attempt to prove their innocence.

Scarlet and Tracy are a pair of small time criminals in line for their day in court, when the courtroom explodes in a ridiculous hail of gunfire. It turns out that some of the girls on the docket weren't going down without a fight, and on their way to hell, they take out a whole bunch of cops before buying the farm. Our heroines turn out to be the only survivors of the slaughter, and are presumed to be its perpetrators, and now they are on the run with every cop in town painting a target on their backs. The only way out is through the sleaziest '80s underground drug dens ever committed to celluloid and a ton of bad dudes trying to take a piece out of their asses.

Certain Fury is a mostly forgotten gem of '80s action. It's no Rambo, but it has the pacing and insane Gung-Ho enthusiasm of a film like To Live & Die in L.A. without the subtlety. If you're looking for trashy women, gross men (played by the likes of Moses Gunn and Peter Fonda), and a whole lot of sex, drugs, and violence; you're in the right place. Certain Fury is a must-see.

The Disc:

Looks great, sounds great. Kino's Blu-ray of the film looks about as good as one could expect from a mid '80s mid-budget film, and I was totally satisfied with the way it came out. The audio is not going to knock your socks off, but the dialogue and gun shots sound pretty damned good to me. The film is joined on the disc by an audio commentary from cult film specialists Nathaniel Thompson and Tim Greer, who are always welcome voices when it comes to films from this era. Overall, a disc well worth owning.

A bizarre piece of mid '70s Cold War paranoia, Jack Gold's Who? is a head-scratcher and a compelling watch.

When an American scientist thought dead suddenly reappears after a car crash in Soviet Russia, an FBI agent is sent in to debrief him, only to find that he's not quite what he seemed. Unlike other Cold War films about spies who "come in from the cold", in Who? the main draw is the fact that this scientist is, well, not quite himself. It turns out that the fiery car crash may not have killed him, and the Soviet doctors managed to salvage his brain and right arm, but replaced every other inch of him with machine parts. He's a robot now, and a very weird looking one, at that.  It is now the G-man's (Elliot Gould) job to determine if what came back from the USSR really is the missing scientist, or a complex ruse by the Russians.

It's hard not to get hung up on the strangeness of the robot's appearance in the film, but director Jack Gold and screenwriter John Gould manage to through enough twists and turns into the film to make it a fun watch. When the film was first announced by Kino Lorber, I had never heard of it, but it definitely feels like a title ripe of reevaluation by the cult film loving community. Count me as a fan.

The Disc:

Kino Lorber's Blu-ray of Who? isn't going to win any awards. The print source looks pretty beat up, and the colors are more than a little faded. However, I'd count it as a win that the film exists on Blu-ray at all, and the level of detail is certainly above what we might've expected from a DVD of the film. Also included on the disc is an Audio commentary from director Jack Gold and historian Anthony Sloman, who provide tons of context for Gold's little oddity. Definitely an interesting addition to the Cold War oeuvre.

Paranoia abounds in director Ken Hughes' The Internecine Project, featuring the legendary James Coburn.

Former secret agent, Robert Elliot is given the opportunity of a lifetime when he's offered a spot as advisor to the president. Unfortunately for those around him, he has a few loose ends to tidy up before the takes the job. Four people know a little bit too much about Elliot, and he's not about to let them get in the way of his chance at molding history, so he plots to have them killed in a furious night of conniving, double crossing, and the kind of subterfuge that should make for a great film.

Unfortunately, The Internecine Project, while largely fun, stumbles a bit in its attempt to put together the pieces of the puzzle. Coburn, already famous for his swagger in films like Harry in Your Pocket, and the Flint series, is a great leading man, but it appears that the script by Barry Levinson and the direction of Hughes muddles the details on the way to delivering a rather underwhelming thriller. If there's a reason to watch, it is no doubt Coburn's charismatic performance, but even he can't manage to pull this film from decent to excellent.

The Disc:

Kino Lorber's Blu-ray of The Internecine Project is decent, but like the film itself, fails to raise itself above that. The image quality is roughly in line with Who?, meaning that it's not terrible, but looks like it's based on an older master. Clarity and detail suffer from softness likely inherent in the source material, and the color is fairly muted throughout. The transfer doesn't sport any major damage, but speckles are present here and there. Also included with teh film is an interview with co-screenwriter Jonathan Lynn, which helps give contect to the film and its production.

Henri Vernueil's The Sicilian Clan is a strangely underappreciated piece of '70s European cinema.

Vittorio Manalese, a Sicilian mobster, is looking for one last big score, but he knows he can't do it on his own. In order to pull off the heist, fifty million dollars in jewels flying to New York, he knows just the man he needs to call, master thief Roger Sartet. Manalese busts Sartet out of jail to do the job, but once the jewels are in Sartet's hands, the thief decides to keep them for himself. Understandably, this dosn't sit well for Manalese, and the chase is on.

More remarkable than the director is the remarkable all-star team of European acting talent assembled to pull off this thriller. Jean Gabin (Touchez pas le grisbi) stars as Manalese, and his opponent is the legendary Alain Delon (Le samourai), throw in Lino Ventura from Le deuxieme souffle and you've got a cast worth salivating over. The film is a wonderfully fun watch, even at over two hours, and features some stunning cinematography from Henri Dacae (Le cercle rouge) and a score from none other than Ennio Morricone.

The Disc:

Kino Lorber's Blu-ray catalog releases may not always blow ones socks off with their technical merits, but The Sicilian Clan is one they can be proud of. The film is presented here in two versions, a 118 minute US version, and a 125 minute international cut. The major difference as a viewer in this case isn't the editing, which is apparent but not intrusive, but the fact that the US cut has been afforded a new 4K restoration, which is, to say the least, beautiful. The 4K transfer features eye-popping detail and contrast, picking up on even the finest details of fabrics and materials throughout the film. The international version, on the other hand, has been given a 2K restoration which is still a step up from most KL Studio Classics prestantations, but suffers at the hands of the superior 4K version.

The disc is also loaded with extras, from an audio commentary with Howard S. Berger and Nathaniel Thompson, to an appreciation of the film by director Fred Cavaye (Point Blank 2010), to a remarkable 2013 featurette titled Legend of the Clan that runs just over an hour and is as comprehensive a piece on a film like this as one could ask for. Definitely recommended.

And now for something completely different.

Corey Yuen's No Retreat, No Surrender. This is a film that is infamous for being so-bad-it's-good, but really, it's a fantastic save-the-rec-center martial arts flick that is a ton of fun for all ages.

Jason is a martial arts fanatic in '80s Seattle. When a Russian crime syndicate threatens to take over his dojo, it's time to fight back, but the only way to win, is to go through Ivan "The Russian Butcher" Kraschinsky. The only problem, The Russian Butcher is a monster and Jason doesn't stand a chance without some serious training. Lucky for him, he is visited by the spirit of his hero, Bruce Lee, in the evenings and Lee inspires him to stand up to the challenge. What follows is an amazing series of training montages, fights, and a brutal showdown with the Butcher that will have you on your feet.

Yuen trained as a child with the Seven Little Fortunes, the famous Peking Opera troupe that birthed legends like Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, and Yuen Biao. He acted in a ton of martial arts films in Hong Kong before becoming a director. No Retreat, No Surrender was one of his first films, though he would go on to become one of the most recognized action directors in the world after films like Righting Wrongs (Above the Law), The Legend I & II, then finally making it big back in the US with The Transporter.

However, it isn't Yuen's face that sells No Retreat, No Surrender. It isn't even the star of the film, Kurt "Jason" McKinney. It's The Russian Butcher, Jean Claude Van Damme, in his first feature role. Van Damme isn't in the movie much, maybe ten minutes, but he definitely makes an impression. Personally, I love McKinney and his go-for-broke performance as a disciple of ghost Bruce Lee, it's endearing as hell. This movie is a ton of fun.

The Disc:

KL Studio Classics' Blu-ray of No Retreat, No Surrender is another of their middling A/V efforts, but nothing to sneeze at. The film looks decent enough in its original aspect ratio, and the sound is decent. '80s film stock notoriously doesn't age well, and the film suffers from less than pristine source materials, but nothing too off-putting. Audio is similarly effective but not exuberant.

The disc does excel by including both the 85 minute US cut and the 94 minute international version of the film. The longer cut doesn't add action, rather improving on the story surrounding the action, and since the run time is still well within the acceptable range for this kind of film, it is worth checking out. We also get an audio commentary from the screenwriter Keith Strandberg, as well as an interview with McKinney in which he describes the audition process and production, which focused far more time and energy on the fights than the story.

I love this movie. It looks goofy by today's overly serious standards, but No Retreat, No Surrender is a ton of fun. Check it out.

Of all the dumb Mad Max rip-offs that came out in the '80s following George Miller's cult classic in 1979 and especially its follow-up The Road Warrior in 1981, 1983's Stryker might be the dumbest. I just don't understand the fandom that surrounds some of these terrible films from this era. Perhaps it's the fact that the film was directed by Filipino schlock-meister Cirio Santiago, the legend of exploitation filmmaking responsible for such gems as Vampire Hookers, Death Force, and TNT Jackson (and its remakes Firecracker and Angel Fist). However, Stryker's lazy, no-budget take on the post-apolcalyptic landscape isn't fit to carry those films' jock straps.

Instead of fighting over gasoline, the future-primitive tribesmen fight over water. Some tribeswomen discover a water source that will change the fortunes of the world forever, and they recruit Stryker to keep it from falling into the wrong hands.

That's about it.

The film is excruciatingly boring and most of the sets look like they were built in someone's basement. I really didn't like this movie.

The Disc:

Stryker on Blu-ray looks decent enough, but no amount of gloss was ever going to make this look good. It's a polished turd at best.

By far, the most entertaining part of this release is the audio commentary from filmmaker Jim Wynorski (Chopping Mall, Lost Empire), who talks about his time working with Cirio Santiago on a couple of other projects and the elder filmmakers quirks. Wynorski is an engaging storyteller and his contribution almost makes this worth checking out on its own. Almost.

One Million Years B.C. is a strange film.

Directed by Don Chaffey in 1966, this Hammer Films co-production was his second collaboration with legendary visual effects artist Ray Harryhausen after the wild success of Jason and the Argonauts. One Million Years B.C. tells the story of prehistoric man, Tumak (John Richardson), outcast from his tribe, the Rock People, who finds peace and love with the Shell People and their most beautiful member, Loana (Raquel Welch). After deciding that he doesn't belong with the Shell People either, Tumak takes Loana on a journey to freedom fraught with danger as he fights anachronistic dinosaur monsters by Harryhausen for survival.

If there is anything people remember about One Million Years B.C., it's the image of the leather bikini-clad Raquel Welch, and it's hard to blame them. There's no dialogue in English, all of the characters speak to each other in a grunting sort of language, if at all. The plot is fairly simple, as it must be without the ability to express themselves verbally, and though the monster fights are quite fun, there aren't really enough of them to support the full weight of the film. All that being said, I had a lot of fun revisiting this film that I can't have seen in the last thirty years. And, to be crass, I could watch Welch cavort in that outfit for days.

The Disc:

Astonishingly, KL Studio Classics brings One Million Years B.C. to Blu-ray in a brand new and striking 4K restoration of the 91 minute US cut, and it looks stellar. Fine detail and contrast are exceptional, colors hold up remarkably well. The film is also presented on a separate disc in its 100 minute international version, also in a 4K restored version, and it is also beautiful. No complaints here, this is proof that KL can certainly bring the goods when properly motivated.

To round out the package we get a scholarly, if a bit dry, audio commentary from film historian Tim Lucas, interviews with Welch and co-star Martine Breswick, and an archival interview with Harryhausen. This is the definitive edition of One Million Years B.C. to date, definitely worth adding to any collection

Before Joan Collins invaded American households on a weekly basis in Dynasty, she was already a household name in the UK thanks to a long career in movies. However, never was she as sleazy as in the one-two punch of The Stud (1978) and The Bitch (1979). This pair of films, based on equally sleazy books by her famous trashy novelist sister Jackie, turned the mature 46 year old Collins into a sex-starved love machine in a way that few actresses can get away with, even today. These films exist in a magical twilight time between the death of the free love '60s and the impending doom of the AIDS crisis in the '80s, and there is an incredible laissez faire attitude about them that you just can't fake these days.

In The Stud, Joan plays Fontaine Khaled - what a name! - the sexually unsatisfied wife of a rich businessman who is always away with his work. Fontaine owns The Hobo, London's hottest nightclub, and employs Tony Blake (Oliver Tobias) to manage the place in exchange for being her sexual plaything, subject to her every whim. And whim she does, over and over, in the elevator, on tape, at sex clubs, wherever she damn well pleases. She gets her whims all over the place.

When Fontaine's daughter catches wind of her stepmother's stepping-out, she decides to get back at her by stealing her Tony, but Fontaine has other ideas, and boy are they naughty. Tony, tired of being in the middle of everything, tries to break free but only manages to find himself jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. The Stud is a greasy piece of '70s sexploitation that trades in grit and grime for glam, and it's a fun ride.

Fontaine Khaled returns in The Bitch, the sequel to the earlier film in which she becomes entangled with an international crime ring. In my opinion, The Bitch is quite a step down from The Stud in spite of the fact that it ramps up the crazy twists and matches the disco decadence of its precursor. Still, it's a fun film that deserves a watch for an amazing theme song if nothing else.

The Discs:

The Stud and The Bitch are presented separately from KL Studio Classics, but a double feature is essential in this case. Both films look decent, but rather bland (that may just be what England looked like), with colors slightly muted, and lenses surely greased to benefit Collins' many close-ups. The audio is clear and easy to understand.

Both discs feature audio commentaries from the duo of David Del Valle and Nick Redman. Del Valle is a gossip of the highest order, and his contributions to the commentary are largely dishy, but always entertaining. Redman, on the other hand, provides more of the cultural context that surrounds the films based on his youth in England where these films were made and released to some fanfare. The pair complement each other well. The Bitch also features an interesting interview with director Gerry O'Hara.