I want potential readers to understand the place from which I am coming before you decide whether or not to pay my opinion any mind. Cannibal Ferox is a repulsive, unsophisticated, mean-spirited and cruel film on a whole other level to most other examples of this generally reviled sub-genre of Italian cannibal cinema. Yet, somehow, I've managed to now watch this film three times in my life, and at least two of those I wish I could erase from my memory. All that said, Grindhouse Releasing's recent Blu-ray release of this film is pretty damned spectacular, in spite of the fact that this putrid excuse for a movie is the primary draw for anyone looking to buy.
Cannibal Ferox follows the travels and travails of six (then five, then four, then three, then two... you get the picture) Americans on the hunt for either conclusive proof of the non-existence of cannibals in Amazonia or loads and loads of emeralds deep in the jungle, depending on which member of the crew you ask. This motley assortment of Anglos hacking and slashing its way through the Amazon jungle encounters a tribe of natives which one of them points out as cannibals after a particularly gruesome flashback in which he describes their behavior. However, when this man, Mike Logan, the self-proclaimed leader, turns out to be a goddamned scumbag and a liar, things get out of hand and we are treated to a non-stop cavalcade of atrocities as everyone attempts to flee for their lives.
Now, here's the thing. I don't hate cannibal movies. On the contrary, I think that Italian cannibal movies, while their objective quality as films was often questionable at best, have a certain charm, and the best of them have something legitimate to say about the innate nature of the human animal. These films are hard to come by and often controversial for numerous reasons, if not for their treatment of humans, then certainly their treatment of animals on-screen, a facet of their production which I addressed a couple of years back after reviewing the other big name in the genre, Cannibal Holocaust:
As a result of the film's repulsive on screen action, Cannibal Holocaust remains a very controversial piece. I cannot defend some of the things that happen in this film, and as I understand it, Deodato isn't proud of some of the animal cruelty he filmed, either, however, the buck stops with the director, and if it's on screen, he can ultimately be held responsible because he was there when it was filmed. I don't enjoy Cannibal Holocaust, but I also don't condemn it or find it particularly offensive, at least not as much as the BBFC, who initially banned it as one of the original Video Nasties. I do, however, find merit in the film. It is, for all its offenses, it is a spectacularly well put together film. The film is shot beautifully, and the message, such as it is, is topical even today. This is definitely among the better acted films in the Italian late '70s-early '80s horror boom, probably because several of its performers were native English speakers, which is not a luxury usually afforded Italian genre films.However, Cannibal Ferox, as a film, isn't fit to carry Cannibal Holocaust's jock-strap (in the local parlance). The film is cheaply made, the script is derisively one-dimensional and dismissive of the content, the actors' performances are stilted and rushed, and most of all, the explicit animal violence in the film is beyond inexcusable. While I hated the animal violence in Cannibal Holocaust, and would watch it again if it were excised from the film, the same kind of violence takes on a harsher, more nihilistic feeling in Cannibal Ferox that makes me wince just to think about it.
How is it that two films, with such seemingly similar concepts, tones, and execution, can vary so wildly in terms of their lasting effects on the viewer? Well, for me it was a matter of intention. Cannibal Ferox's director, Umberto Lenzi, was a notoriously rushed and inconsiderate director. When I say inconsiderate, I mean that his films were largely cash-ins without anything new or novel to say. Yes, the entire Italian film industry from the '50s through the late '80s was dependent on these cash-in films, however, Lenzi's work reeked of apathy, even amongst the drones. Ruggero Deodato of Cannibal Holocaust, on the other hand, at least attempted to make a film that could transcend its grimy raison d'etre. Whether or not he succeeded entirely is up for debate.
Both directors claimed that it was their producers (and both point the finger toward Germany, for what it's worth) for insisting that the films included real animal violence to sate the growing savagery of their audiences. However, while Deodato's work was more deliberate and considerate (though still disgusting), Lenzi's was mean-spirited and ugly toward the animals involved. Animals were killed when animals didn't need to be killed (not that they ever do), but Lenzi's camera lingers on the pain and cruelty longer than any reasonable person would, as if to put the crowd through the same pain.
I get it, in Lenzi's eyes this was going to be about character development if he had to do it, and on that level it works, however, it's painful to watch these animals not only being killed, but also tortured, and watching Lenzi's camera fetishize the pain is unbearable.
I can look past the one dimensional characters. I can look past the poor writing. Hell, I enjoy the frequently inept dubbing. However, the unnecessary violence makes it all for naught. I know there are people out there who love this stuff, and while I can't for the life of me fathom why, I certainly cannot count myself among their number. You wanted it? You've got it.
The Disc:
All that aside, this release from Grindhouse Releasing is a revelation is more ways than one. The film looks incredible, the team at Grindhouse never skimp on their restorations, and this is one they've done well by, better than it deserves, certainly. The audio is similarly amazing, with original Mono Italian and English language tracks present, but they are far surpassed by the new stereo mix that is amazing in it's clarity and attention to detail.
The extras in this release are nothing short of amazing, and it kind of makes me wish they'd put them on another disc, because I feel obligated to keep this one just so that I have these bonus materials in my collection. The central extra is Calum Waddell and Naomi Holwill's Eaten Alive! The Rise and Fall of the Italian Cannibal Film, a feature length documentary with interviews from most of the genre's living superstars, including both Lenzi and Deodato, not to mention a major contribution from our own Dr. Shelagh Rowan-Legg as a talking head expert. This is the kind of extra that I would've gladly purchased separately because it is informative, engaging, and packed with history and stories from this subgenre of horror that no one really talks about. It's an absolute blast.
On top of that massive item, there are hours of interviews with Lenzi, and stars Giovanni Lombardo Radice, Danilo Mattei, and Robert Kerman. There is some really fascinating material here. Lenzi's obliviousness to his own heinous legacy, and eventual embrace of the film as a fan favorite all while cashing his royalty checks two or three times per year is astonishing. Radice's career retrospective is fascinating, and makes me want to dig in to his other work even more. One of the last impressive extras for me was the interview with Gino DeRossi, a.k.a. The Bomber, the FX man on this film and many other Italian genre pictures starting in the mid-'70s with the incredibly titled Don't Touch the White Woman. De Rossi's view of the film is very interesting because it is something of an outside perspective, even though he was very much a part of the production.
In addition to these very worthwhile video extras, Grindhouse had graciously included a CD of the full Budy Maglione soundtrack, complete with alternate takes; liner notes from sleaze historian Bill Landis and sleaze fan Eli Roth, and a nifty embossed slipcover for the geeks like me who enjoy our over the top packaging.
I suppose, in conclusion, I am torn out my recommendation on the film. The bonus materials are beyond top notch and put most specialists to shame. If only the documentary were on the second, non-film Blu-ray disc, I could safely keep it and never subject myself to this film again, but I suppose you can't always get what you want. I can say this, if you know that you like this film, this disc is worth whatever someone decides to charge for it. $30? $40? Bargain prices for what you get here, though I suppose it'll land closer to $25. If you aren't sure that you like this film, or you are going on recommendation, I suggest that you find a way to rent the film before hand, because you just might be as turned off as I am. It's a tough call, honestly, but I can't wholeheartedly slam the release, because on the whole it's just so damned good.
Ugh.