Oct 24, 2016

Video Watchdog (1990 - 2016)

Video Watchdog #183
(the last issue, released in spring 2016)
It comes with a heavy heart (though perhaps not a great surprise, unfortunately) to report today's news from their website, that Video Watchdog's print run is being discontinued. Since its debut in 1990, Tim and Donna Lucas' magazine has been an invaluable resource for fantasy film. Tim and his contributors have tirelessly presented the minutiae of the genre, and have summarily won the trust and admiration of not just genre fans, but those who appeared before and behind the camera. Video Watchdog was one of the many independent publications in the desktop publishing boom to offer information and criticism of genre films mainstream and obscure, and one of the few to have continued as the Internet supplanted much of them. We can mourn VW as another victim of changing times, but we can also celebrate that Tim and Donna have given us an immeasurable body of work for nearly three decades. Our hearts go out to the Video Watchdog staff and readers, and wish them all the best with their future endeavours.

www.videowatchdog.com

++++

Here is the announcement, pasted from Video Watchdog's blog:

With regret, we must announce that—after 27 wonderful years—we are no longer able to publish new print editions of Video Watchdog.

Some of you have been with us since the early days of "desktop publishing," when bookstores carried a wide variety of offbeat publications catering to all kinds of niche readerships. It was an exciting time, one in which Video Watchdog thrived. From the time of our first pre-publication ads in 1989, The Perfectionist's Guide to Fantastic Video has never stopped evolving—growing from 60 to 64 to 80 pages in its black-and-white configuration, blossoming into full-color with issue 100, and introducing interactive digital versions of each issue in 2013. We can confidently state that our most recent issues were among the best we ever published.

Over the last quarter century, we have always depended on newsstand sales, subscriptions, advertising, and—because all of that was still not fully sustaining—side projects in order to continue publishing. We were able to make ends meet so long as all of these facets were working together but, in recent years, it has become a losing battle. There are many reasons for this: the diminishing number of retail outlets, the sad state of print distribution, the easy availability of free information and critical writing via the Internet, and the now-widespread availability on Blu-ray and DVD of so many of the once-obscure titles Video Watchdog was among the first to tell you about. After trying many creative ways to generate sales to compensate for newsstand losses and lack of advertising support, rising shipping and postage costs, and a depressed economy, it is simply no longer possible to keep Video Watchdog moving forward.

Looking back, we take great pride in the fact that, in our time, Video Watchdog was able to present the writing and original art of the genre's most talented writers, artists, and thinkers; that it attracted the attention and respect of so many of the great contemporary masters of cinema (from Scorsese to Del Toro); and that its coverage inspired a number of people to enter the film and video businesses to promote film restoration and preservation from the inside. We are deeply grateful for the contributors and audience that enabled us to sustain our publication for so long.

The coming months will be difficult as we try to figure out what's next for us, and what awaits Video Watchdog and its readership. Please bear with us during this uncertain time, and we will keep you informed of further developments as they become more definitive.

Tim & Donna Lucas
Publishers


Sep 23, 2016

15 Years: Looking Back (and forward)


The day of the week was actually Sunday, however September 23 was the date, fifteen years ago, that these three miscreant little publications debuted to the outside world. I still vividly remember the night before, coming home with a banker's box full of still-warm Baxter paper, in anticipation of the next day at Canzine, where this trio of issues made its debut. After a hilarious, caffeine-fuelled, sleep-deprived day, Susan and I celebrated with a pitcher of beer at Healey's across the street. "We made it!" 

The Eclectic Screening Room would continue with another twenty-two issues (plus three special monographs), preaching the gospel of the weird and wonderful cinema it adores, until going into hiatus in 2012, for reasons still obscure to the general public.

Nothing happens over night of course. Even these early scruffy pages were borne from an ambition as early as 1994, when yours truly first had desires to start a film magazine. Of course life and work predictably got in the way, until 1997 and 1999, when I did some dry runs at content that will never leave the ones and zeroes of the old Mac IIsi Hard Drive. 

Finally, in early 2001, upon revisiting the idea one more time with the realization that I wasn't getting any younger, and armed with the proper means to do some desktop publishing even of this small scale (for now), came the ambition to further put fingertips to keys and see where this journey would go.

During the spring thaw, there was established a deadline of fall 2001 to introduce them via the season's small press fairs. The objective was to create three issues by that time, largely to show (mostly myself) that I was serious about it, and that it wasn't yet another one-hit wonder or unfinished project in my arsenal. 

When the first three issues of ESR peeled out of the printer, the internet still wasn't in our house, I still hadn't a DVD player, wasn't as yet a whiz kid on the computer, or much of a designer (still not). Looking back (rather wincingly) at this early work, the prose is rushed and uneven, but, uh, yeah, I guess the passion is there. A lot of what I wrote I'd likely not do again, but each piece is a stepping stone. You can only get better by keeping at it. 

Both of my readers probably already know this tale, but it bears repeating here.  Its original title was going to be Filmbitch. I wish I still had the artwork for the front cover of issue one to show you. It had the same screaming woman's face from Flaming Creatures as seen above in the red cover for ESR #1. (What was the reason for all the screaming faces on the covers in those days? Who remembers?) The Filmbitch picture had the screaming woman as depicted, but with a comic strip balloon emanating from her mouth, saying "Oh no! Not another $#!@?! movie fanzine!"

However, at the eleventh hour, I discovered that an LA-based magazine used the title, and hurriedly scrambled to think of another before going public with the name. Anything else I could think of with Film or Cinema in the title was too similar to something already out there, until at 11:59 The Eclectic Screening Room came forth. In hindsight, I was glad that I never used Filmbitch, as the title suggested a more confrontational tone than I would have been comfortable with. The conceit was however unchanged: to appraise the cinema that existed outside of the mainstream multiplex. Independent-experimental (insert term here) works from the underground, B genre films, Canadian movies, and even lesser known foreign cinema would be regularly examined between the covers. 

Both of my readers also probably know that I've had a love-hate relationship with the Eclectic Screening Room name ever since. While surely it sums up the gamut of cinema from Grade A to Z that I enjoy, the title was also terribly misleading to some (and understandably so). As the years progressed, when ESR was on display at numerous fairs and expos, I was always asked by some passersby, “So, where do you screen these films?”  I mean, shit, did people ask Mike White where the cashier was? 

With this misunderstanding came the recurring, though necessary, life lesson that people either get it or they don't. The Eclectic Screening Room isn't so much a place, as it is a state of mind. Despite whatever lofty ambitions one may have to change the world with a vanity press, the humble reality is that you'll largely be preaching to the converted. This back room hobby, which developed from a xeroxed zine into tabloid-sized laser print with colour covers, originated simply with a desire quoted from Andre Breton, the father of Surrealism: “One publishes to find comrades.” On that measure, it succeeded, and for that I'll be eternally grateful.

By the time the last issue (to date) came out of the rollers, most things in my life existed all out of that modest goal way back when, to get this text out into the world. Most of my current social circle and livelihood exists thanks to fellow travellers who happened along and discovered this magazine, became friends, and sometime contributors. The different screening venues I've hosted or co-programmed since 2006 were also possible simply through the people I've met because of the magazine. It's been a pleasure to see the ripple effect resulted from dipping a toe into uncertain waters. Sure, I would've have enjoyed more silver across my palm, and better distribution, but honestly, having these words touch others' lives for a moment is the greatest reward a creator can ever hope for.

Exactly five years ago this weekend, ESR had its tenth anniversary issue launch (with cake!) at Toronto's Word on the Street. It was a perfect day, reuniting with old friends, making new ones, married with strong sales. This year's edition of Word on the Street occurs this same weekend. If ESR was still being printed, it's likely that instead of typing this, I'd be doing various last minute things in preparation of my biggest gig of the year. It still seems funny not to be scurrying around in September. 

On the other hand, maybe there is still something to learn from these old zines. They had an urgency that I've lacked in recent years. That eagerness to try anything, willingness to scare oneself, living hand-to-mouth: traits also found in a lot of the renegade films I was reviewing. But the new guard of the so-called “indie scene” has moved in- the wine and the bottles are both different. Even the scene itself has mutated into something else. Sticky tables and 12-inch staplers are replaced with iPads and Kickstarter campaigns. Much of our generation now has to think about family and retirement. We've gotten softer, and more comfortable in the middle. Spending the kids' inheritance to convince three people about the subversive qualities of Ray Dennis Steckler doesn't seem like such a big deal any more.

The fifteen anniversary is much quieter by comparison. It's Friday night, and the overcast sky is getting dark. I'll put on this little party hat and smile at my reflection in the window, thinking about absent friends. Can I really call it a fifteenth anniversary if I haven't published in the past four years? Sure, why not? It's all a state of mind, right?

Yet, this Sabbatical was necessary, if to realize that this scene isn't so much about age as it is about a belief system. I had forgotten those sets of values, and have lately been re-acquainted with them, which I'll explain in future posts. It simply has taken this long to find out how to preach the old gospel, in a new and different way. 

If you've read this far, thank you. You're why this has kept going since 2001. The next phase is soon to begin and I hope friends new and old will join us for the ride.

The end, and a beginning.


Sep 15, 2016

The Restoration of "Deluge"

It is always thrilling to report about films being found and restored. This latest news about the 1933 film Deluge, directed by Felix Feist, is sure to delight classic movie fans. Its forthcoming DVD or Blu-Ray release should sell like hotcakes! (I'll for sure be in line the day it hits the streets!)

To learn more about this movie, and its restoration, below is the news release, pasted from Kino Lorber's Facebook page.

***

Coming Soon!
A Brand New 2K Restoration of the 1933 Disaster Film “DELUGE” Acquired For U.S. Release!

Kino Lorber announces the acquisition of Felix E. Feist’s extraordinary 1933 disaster film DELUGE, restored by Lobster Films, Paris.
Triggered by a series of earthquakes on the West Coast of the United States, a massive tidal wave circles the globe and—in a prolonged and spectacular special effects sequence—wipes out New York City. Sidney Blackmer stars as a man who, separated from his family, must begin to rebuild civilization in the wake of the catastrophe. For decades, DELUGE was a lost film of almost mythical status, until horror/sci-fi archivist Forrest J. Ackerman discovered an Italian-dubbed print in 1981. Viewing this poor-quality print was an arduous experience and was only a dim substitute for the original film. But all this changed in 2016 when Lobster Films unearthed a 35mm nitrate negative with the original English soundtrack.

Film preservationist (and Lobster Films CEO) Serge Bromberg says, "Thanks to film archivist George Willeman (Library of Congress), we located the nitrate dupe negative in the archives of the Centre national du cinéma et de l’image animée in France. Although this element was partly decomposed, the latest digital technologies allowed us to restore the image to its original sharpness. Our sound department, LE Diapason, performed extensive sound restoration to both the French and English soundtracks.”

The restored DELUGE will premiere at L’Étrange Festival in Paris on September 18, 2016. The film will be given a limited U.S. theatrical release by KINO REPERTORY, followed by a KL Studio Classics Blu-ray and DVD release.

Bromberg says, "DELUGE is a magnificent film, and what was at the time certainly nightmarish seems today full of thrills and almost poetry. KING KONG was not the only fantastic film at RKO in 1933!”

Sep 13, 2016

Disc Releases We Dig This Week: Sept 13, 2016 edition

This week's bounties all come from Olive Films. In their continued efforts to digitally preserve the direct-to-video action pictures of the late David O. Prior, the 1987 Mankillers is being offered. This week they also revisit the Republic Pictures vaults to present the 1950s complete serial of Commando Cody: Sky Marshal of the Universe. And Halloween isn't too far away, so horror fans would be overjoyed to see the long overdue release of these two gems: the camp classic Monster from Piedras Blancas, and Riccardo Freda's beautifully eerie gothic Eurohorror, The Horrible Dr. Hichkok, starring Barbara Steele.

Can't wait! Go get 'em!





Aug 30, 2016

Disc Releases We Dig This Week: August 30, 2016 edition

Incredibly exciting releases this week from Criterion, with their double shot of releases from Orson Welles' late period: Chimes at Midnight (1967) and The Immortal Story (1968). Chimes had been previously released on VHS in North America, in poor transfers. Earlier this year the film aired on TCM in a fairly respectable condition. With Criterion at the helm, one suspects this will have never looked better for any home release. The Immortal Story on the other hand I don't think has ever had a home release (at least on this continent). I reviewed the latter film -egad!- five years ago for ESR's tenth anniversary issue. (Perhaps I'll put it up here in the near future.)



From Criterion's website:
The crowning achievement of Orson Welles’s extraordinary cinematic career, Chimes at Midnight was the culmination of the filmmaker’s lifelong obsession with Shakespeare’s ultimate rapscallion, Sir John Falstaff. Usually a comic supporting figure, Falstaff—the loyal, often soused friend of King Henry IV’s wayward son Prince Hal—here becomes the focus: a robustly funny and ultimately tragic screen antihero played by Welles with looming, lumbering grace. Integrating elements from both Henry IV plays as well as Richard II, Henry V, and The Merry Wives of Windsor, Welles created a gritty and unorthodox Shakespeare film as a lament, he said, “for the death of Merrie England.” Poetic, philosophical, and visceral—with a kinetic centerpiece battle sequence that rivals anything in the director’s body of work—Chimes at Midnight is as monumental as the figure at its heart.

Disc Features:
-New high-definition digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray
-Audio commentary featuring film scholar James Naremore, author of The Magic World of Orson Welles
-New interview with actor Keith Baxter
-New interview with director Orson Welles’s daughter Beatrice Welles, who appeared in the film at age nine
-New interview with actor and Welles biographer Simon Callow
-New interview with film historian Joseph McBride, author of What Ever Happened to Orson Welles?
-Interview with Welles while at work editing the film, from a 1965 episode of The Merv Griffin Show
-Trailer
-PLUS: An essay by film scholar Michael Anderegg

From Criterion's website:
Orson Welles’s first color film and final completed fictional feature, The Immortal Story is a moving and wistful adaptation of a tale by Isak Dinesen. Welles stars as a wealthy merchant in nineteenth-century Macao, who becomes obsessed with bringing to life an oft-related anecdote about a rich man who gives a poor sailor a small sum of money to impregnate his wife. Also starring an ethereal Jeanne Moreau, this jewel-like film, dreamily shot by Willy Kurant and suffused with the music of Erik Satie, is a brooding, evocative distillation of Welles’s artistic interests—a story about the nature of storytelling and the fine line between illusion and reality.

Disc Features:
-New, restored 4K digital transfer of the English-language version of the film, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray
-Alternate French-language version of the film
-Audio commentary from 2005 featuring film scholar Adrian Martin
-Portrait: Orson Welles, a 1968 documentary directed by François Reichenbach and Frédéric Rossif
-New interview with actor Norman Eshley
-Interview from 2004 with cinematographer Willy Kurant
-New interview with Welles scholar François Thomas
-PLUS: An essay by film critic Jonathan Rosenbaum