Blu-ray Review: THE UNKNOWN MAN OF SHANDIGOR, A '60s Cult Classic Rediscovered
Deaf Crocodile's maiden home video release of Jean-Louis Roy's The Unknown Man of Shandigor (L'inconnu de Shandigor) is the rarest of joys in the current cinema landscape, a true out-of-the-blue discovery. Made in 1967, Shandigor has evaded film buffs for decades, seeming appearing out of nowhere with its 4K restoration debut at last year’s Fantasia film festival. A film very much of its time and ahead of its time, Shandigor announces the arrival of a bold strategy from Deaf Crocodile, shine a light on some of the most obscure corners of international cult cinema and revive long forgotten cult gems. It's a gambit, for sure, but if this is any indication, one that is likely to pay off handsomely for us all.
A sometimes perplexing labyrinth of spy tropes and art house oddity, The Unknown Man of Shandigor finds itself slightly out of step with the mainstream of its time. The story of the hunt for a mysterious device that could potentially end the threat of nuclear annihilation forever, the canceler, the film weaves an intricate web of intrigue into a wickedly funny tapestry of Cold War paranoia and abstruse cultural references that begged me to lean into my TV set to see exactly where it was going next.
Nuclear scientist, Dr. Herbert Van Krantz, played with ghoulish glee by Daniel Emilfork of The City of Lost Children, has created plans for the canceler, which would be able to neutralize any atomic weapon, but certain parties are displeased and want plans for the device to themselves. So begins this journey to discover where exactly the plans are hidden and the above mentioned foes of Von Krantz will stop at nothing to gain the device for themselves.
Von Krantz's caretaker, Yvan (Michael Imhoff), meanwhile has been shuffling through offers for the device from agents in France, Russia, American, and the Black Sun-Orient spy organization. Various the various organizations all field their own operatives, notably the French contingent is led by pop culture iconoclast Serge Gainsbourg, who appears as the aptly named Le Chef des Chauves (The Chief of the Baldies), leading a team of identical operatives, all looking like well-dressed versions of The Addams' Family's Uncle Fester, and whose ridiculous spy training sequences make up some of the most entertaining parts of the film.
Yvan's daughter, the beautiful and seemingly innocent Sylvania (Marie-France Boyer) finds herself at the center of the intrigue when some precious home movies of a holiday to the beach town of Shandigor turn out to be a crucial plot point. She is kidnapped by the Russians, who may have more of an edge that anyone else because of this, but that doesn't stop the story from moving forward in a million directions all at once, treating the lucky viewer to an adventure that flip flops between zany and dire with alarming speed and agility.
The plot of Shandigor borrows from a million other contemporary Cold War spy thrillers, but it's the unusual touches lent by Ray's story and the incredible production design that really let this one stand out. Production design and cinematography are stupendous, with Ray's team finding some of the most picturesque and unusual spots in Western Europe to set their absurd antics, with Roger Bimpage's incredible black and white cinematography really standing out as one of the highlights. The production design from Michel Braun also contributes to the overall off-kilter feeling of Shandigor by building a wonderfully odd series of rooms and contraptions to illustrate the not-quite-real world in which we find ourselves. Also, with Serge Gainsbourg providing some wonderful songs alongside his deadpan performance, the music can't help being a big draw for the film.
The Disc:
Deaf Crocodile's first Blu-ray release is a definite winner, with half of the team from Cinelicious and Arbelos striking out on their own for the first time, the restoration work was bound to be great, but this exceeds even those expectations. The new image comes from a 4K scan and restoration by the La Cinémathèque suisse, with additional restoration work by Craig Rogers at Deaf Crocodile. Frankly, the image is stunning. The film's black & white photography looks gorgeous, the grain on the image is incredibly organic and makes the film come alive in a way that only classic B/W film stock can. I wanted to live in this world, even if I might get exploded by a bald-headed spy. The audio comes through nice and clear, particularly the dialogue and music cues/songs. This is probably better than the film has ever looked, even on the big screen back in the day.
A decent collection of extras accompanies this release, with Deaf Crocodile including some contemporary heavy hitters as well as archival materials. The new additions lead off with an audio commentary from film historian and author (The Legacy of World War II in European Arthouse), Samm Deighan that explores the context in which the film was made, as well as digging deep on the actors' filmographies, drawing connections that often surprised me but made complete sense, which was definitely welcome. Author/musician/essayist Chris D. (Outlaw Masters of Japanese Film) contributes a typically authoritative booklet essay that also draws connections between Shandigor and other Cold War conspiracy thrillers leading up to it, as well as the numerous TV programs along the same lines from the '60s. The two pieces complement each other without treading much of the same ground. A new interview with Francoise Roy, the director's wife, and Michel Imhoff (Yvan) is also included.
Archival material includes the film's trailer and a wonderful (and rare) half-hour behind-the-scenes piece featuring Roy, Emilfork, Boyer in interviews along with plenty of fly-on-the-wall BTS footage. It's a very impressive package considering how unknown the film was before this release. If this is what Deaf Crocodile is all about, I'm ready to give them all of my money. The Unknown Man of Shandigor is highly recommended.
