Now On Blu-ray: THE DEVIL'S BUSINESS And THE SLAVE From Mondo Macabro

The Devil's Business has actually been reviewed thrice here at ScreenAnarchy. Twice from its appearance at Fantastic Fest 2011, and once from its appearance at Bradford in 2012. Rather than attempting to formally review it a fourth time, I'd like to give you some highlights from each of these reviews, including my own.

I, for what it's worth, was not terribly impressed with the film and it's ending:

For a film that is tightly scripted to the last detail, I feel like the climax of The Devil's Business is a rather clumsy attempt to insert unneeded spectacle into an otherwise very smart film. The final few minutes of the film are so incredibly unnecessary that I went from unqualified praise to almost bitter disappointment. While I can see where the film was attempting to go, I think it just overshot its mark an ended up somewhere in left field when it could have been a contender. The bad thing is that since the film is already so short, I can't think of a way to edit that ending into one more fitting without make the damned thing too short. Sorry, guys, I was almost ready to follow you anywhere, then you ran me into a wall.

Upon a rewatch, my opinion stands. The film is very smart, but very talky with a left field ending that isn't justified by the journey preceding it.

Peter Martin, on the other hand, loved the film, including the parts that irked me:

The Devil's Business fits in quite nicely with what Hogan has done before, while expanding his palette. For one thing, there's a good deal of easily-relatable humor in the banter between the well-seasoned Pinder and the extremely-green Cully. And the exasperated cell-phone conversations between Pinder and his superior are a snappy way of conveying information while also showing Pinder's relative position in the criminal underworld. (Hint: low, but not as low as Cully.)

The Devil's Business is nicely off-beat throughout its running time before snaking in for the kill. I appreciated the markedly different approach to a familiar premise and I thoroughly enjoyed the chilling delivery.

Matthew Lee was somwhere in between with his assessment shortly thereafter, although his review is a bit more dubious of the whole experience than mine:

If only Hogan had displayed a bit more ambition, or had more faith in our attention spans this could have been something of a rough diamond. As it is, there are flashes of greatness, but the film feels fairly throwaway on the whole - a haunted house, a Big Bad, a nihilistic twist, some grisly deaths. Too much of it seems designed to push the audience's buttons rather than trying to evoke any kind of emotional response. The Devil's Business has its moments, but for most people it gets a cautious recommendation at best.

However, The Devil's Business does firmly succeed in being something a little off the beaten path in terms of contermporary horror, and for that it deserves a watch.

The Disc:

One thing that cannot be faulted is Mondo Macabro's Blu-ray presentation of the film. The image is spotless, as one might expect for any contemporary films, and the disc handles the predominantly quite dark image with aplomb. Very little detail is lost to the immersive shadows, and the creative lighting present throughout much of the film presents a wonderfully off-kilter atmosphere. The audio is similarly stellar, clean dialogue, sparse but well-placed surround activity, nothing to complain about.

The extras are where Mondo Macabro really put in some effort on this release. The Devil's Business features an informative and engaging commentary track from director Sean Hogan and producer Jennifer Handorf that spans the film's genesis and Hogan's road toward this project (it was a small project that fit in the cracks between other larger projects awaiting green lights).

There are a few interesting featurettes on this disc as well. The first is a pair of extended interviews with Hogan and Handorf, who repeat much of hte information on the commentary track, but also stretch out a little bit. More interesting is the interview with star Billy Clarke, who shares his personal history on the way to this leading role. A nine minute look behind the scenes of this low-budget production was the most interesting part of the extras, in my opinion. It shows exactly how tightly packed these shoots can be, and also gives us a clearer look at some of the gruesome practical effects.

Overall, the disc is definitely one to get. I may not love the film, but I love the presentation and am happy to recommend this disc to anyone who loves slightly askew, cerebral horror.

With 50 Shades of Grey making big headlines these days, it's only fitting that we explore this little film by Pasquale Festa Campanile that explored one side of a master/slave relationship way back in the Italy of 1969, The Slave. This is among the earliest films to deal with the idea of masochism as a focal point of the plot. Campanile's film was based on a popular novel titled Check to the Queen (the film's original Italian title) that followed the relationship between the mistress, Margaret and the slave, Silvia. The film was not very popular at the time in Italy, and was therefore largely forgotten. However, as these kinds of films have become more and more mainstrem, this is a perfect opportunity to revisit.

Silvia is a wealthy layabout. Living in an oversized mansion in which she has no interest she finds something in her life is missing until she's introduced to the domineering actress Margaret, and suddenly her life begins to make sense. The two develop a symbiotic relationship in which Silvia is Margaret's unquestioning slave and Margaret gets to indulge her passion for command. As this relationship grows stronger and the connection moves from merely one of obedience to one of passion, Margaret beomes more and more attached to her plaything and the whole system unwinds.

The Slave is not what we've come to expect from these kinds of films, even though it predates most of the popular canon within the genre. It is not particularly exploitative, nor is it explicitly sexual, it is, however, very interested in the relationship and power differential between it's two characters. In fact, it's when the relationship moves toward the outwardly sensual that it really begins its rapid downfall. Restrained and yet entertaining, The Slave is an easy sell to people for whom a bunch of blood and torture don't sound appealing, but a bit of slap and tickle might just do the trick.

Campanile's style is very much in line with that late '60s Euro-pop aesthetic. The absurdly entrancing interior design and costuming, the overly dramatic score by Piero Piccioni, all scream '60s. With films like Barbarella, The 10th Victim, In Like Flynt, and the Bond films getting increasingly goofy, The Slave is almost quaint in its approach to the era. Films like those of late '60s art-house erotica titan Radley Metzger would use similar stylistic tactics to establish the otherworldliness of the settings that are supposed to be set slightly ouside what we might call proper society. The Slave is no different, and on the rare occasions that the real world crashes the party, things tend to go very poorly.

The Slave is an interesting and entertaining take on this type of film, one that doesn't demand too much of the viewer in terms of tolerance, but still opens a few doors for a peek into a world slightly left of center.

The Disc:

Mondo Macabro's disc of The Slave looks organically beautiful in its rich, textured image. While the video isn't perfect, it's pretty damned good for a film that very few people have seen, and no one in particular has been clamoring for a restoration of this one. There are scattered instances of minor damage, but nothing that would disctract even the most discerning viewers. Silvia's tie-dyed dream sequences look particularly vivid, if over processed initially. The colors are bright, but natural, and the period setting is recreated quite nicely. The mono audio is quite good as well, giving the dialogue the clarity it needs and allowing Piccioni's score some room to breathe. All in all, the technical aspects of the film are quite good.

The Slave is accompanied by a pair of interviews that delve into some of the era's politics and sexual mores that certainly help to contextualize the films further for those who may be interested. First up is an interview with Filmbar 70 film club's Justin Harries who spends around 20 minutes discussing the European film scene of the period in what is a remarkably astute manner and helps to provide background for the film, as well as many other of its era. Following that is an interview with film writer Roberto Curti who focuses on this film and the work of director Pasquale Festa Campanile as a whole. His 30 minute segment is a wealth of information regarding this film and its absence from the world as well as Campanile's career leading up to and away from the film. Both make for very interesting viewing. Along with these substantive featurettes, there is also the always entertainig Mondo Macabro sizzle reel, giving the viewer a chance to see all of the film's we're missing by not owning every single release. Someday, MM, someday...

This is definitely a winner. If you're looking for something seedy, you might want to look away, but for those with taste, The Slave might be something you want to check out.