Author: BRWC

  • At The Drive-In: Review

    At The Drive-In: Review

    By Fergus Henderson. Cinema is the healthiest it has been in years. In the age of streaming people are still making the trip. It will never, however, reach the heights it knew half a century ago. A cinema trip now is for many simply a thing to do when other plans fail. Back then it was the thing to do, something filled with excitement and discovery, buoyed by the apparently never-ending cultural ascendance of film.

    Back then film reigned over the cultural landscape. Back then you could erect a huge screen in a field and people would drive for miles to sit in their cars and watch a film on it. This documentary, directed and edited by Alexander Monelli, is about one of those drive-ins, the Mahoning, and the passionate nerds trying to keep it alive.

    To anyone devoted to film the concept of a drive-in seems self-explanatory. And yet to take a look at one, a sight that immediately transports one to the mid 20th century, it is clear why the Mahoning is floundering. It is a relic. Aging head honcho Jeff, a projectionist since the 70s, is nervous about its future. As the film reminds us at the beginning, of the past 4000 plus drive-ins, only 300 still operate.

    Monelli is discreet and unassuming behind the camera, and indeed the subject and surroundings speak for themselves. When we meet Jeff he is railing against digital and proselytising the value of 35mm film. The town of Lehighton, Pennsylvania where the Mahoning resides is a sleepy rain soaked place. A lonely image of obsolescence and sadness begins to form.

    Jeff is joined by recent partners Matt and Virgil, two much younger film-grads, who hope to lead the Mahoning into the present day. They share Jeff’s passion for older technology (Matt, a somewhat uncomfortable and anxious man, prides himself on not owning a smart phone). But things are different for Jeff. 

    Without wishing to psychoanalyse them too much, it is clear that both Matt and Virgil are two nerdy guys who do what nerds do, expressing and realising their love for a specific aspect of culture that resonates with them. Virgil in particular ties it to memories of childhood, when things were “pure” and he had not yet experienced how one loses one’s love. There is a complex of cultural history, a wealth of historical signifiers, a desire for an imagined place outwith the present, which draws them to the drive-in.

    For Jeff, this is and has always been his life. He has been there since it was a hot business, and has stayed with it as it has dwindled. Monelli does impressive work in inferring that despite Matt and Virgil’s deification of Jeff, he is at a very different stage in life and viewing the whole thing very differently to them. We learn, in one poignant moment, that he regrets not having children, having never been able to make a relationship last. 

    //www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOM6loYiRxM

    Indeed, the changing face of film fandom and film culture becomes a kind of unaddressed subtext. Here is Jeff, who worked as a projectionist during a time when your average punter wouldn’t think twice about going to the drive-in. Now, as his occupation becomes increasingly obsolete, its protectors and celebrators are nerds and film geeks, far outside the mainstream. 

    The documentary follows the Mahoning’s 2016 season, curated by Matt and Virgil, as they try and recoup their losses (securing prints and running electricity keeps the profit margin very high) They’re trying to rebuild the Mahoning brand. We follow the unglamorous beginnings as they set everything up, sleeping on air mattresses over long weekends, desperately trying to spruce up the degraded cultural artefact, animating it with their passion and dedication. Eventually, things turn around.

    The film reaches a beautiful high when the nerdery of the film community, something Matt and Virgil keenly tap into with their horror film festival, proves that though film may not be the total cultural force that it was, the people that celebrate it will keep it alive through their support. 

    All of the efforts the team put in, as sad and futile as it appears at the film’s beginning, are justified and redeemed. Here Monelli basks in the beauty of the community’s passion and dedication. Film going might have lost its glamour, but instead it has drawn in those that need it. Many people towards the end use the word family to describe the experience. It is a triumphant and heart-warming end to a skilfully made, unassuming documentary that totally blindsides with its insight and depth. 

  • Restoring The Films Of José Larraz

    Restoring The Films Of José Larraz

    Written by James White, Head of Restoration at Arrow Films.

    I first discovered the cinema of José Roman Larraz in the same way that many others probably did, through the seminal book Immoral Tales, written by Cathal Tohill and Pete Tombs.

    This book was absolutely essential for anyone interested in European cult cinema and served as a primary reference for anyone hoping to learn more about the films of Jess Franco, Jean Rollin, Walerian Borowczyk and Robbe-Grillet, among others. But having been published in 1995, attempts to see the titles discussed would often prove to be a source of frustration, given how few of the films were accessible to view.

    More often than not, many of them were only available in bootleg form, often incomplete and of terrible quality. Most elusive of all were the films of José Larraz, who’s films (with the single exception of Vampyres) had all but vanished from the earth. 

    Then in 2016, Pete Tombs’ own Mondo Macabro and the BFI Flipside labels released simultaneous Blu-ray editions of Symptoms, Larraz’s 1974 British horror film. The film had been newly restored by Belgian Cinematek and was sourced from the original negative, rediscovered at the BFI Archive after long believed lost.  The film was a revelation to me and many others who were seeing it for the first time. 

    Although Symptoms invited comparisons to such films as Repulsion in terms of its plot, the film’s unique spell lay both in its casting of Angela Pleasence as the mentally fragile protagonist, and in how Larraz brought a unique outsider’s eye to capturing the British landscape, presenting an unrelenting dreamlike atmosphere that shunned the neat and logical narratives of say, the Hammer or Amicus films at the time. The film was really like nothing else from the era, and its haunting ambience remained with the viewer long after the film was over. 

    Whirlpool
    Whirlpool

    Given the renewed interest in Larraz’s films, it was only right that we at Arrow would restore his very first feature, Whirlpool (1970). Prior to this film Larraz had never directed, having worked as a comic-book writer and fashion photographer. So it was surprising to see the same visual sensibility I saw in Symptoms almost fully formed in this earlier film.

    Whirlpool’s primary influences are fairly obvious – Blow Up and Peeping Tom both loom large here – but although Whirlpool is a much cruder film in many ways (the film was shot on an extremely low budget and the soundtrack was post-synched in Rome), it distinguishes itself with a heavy atmosphere of dread and mystery throughout. It also brings a frankness to its erotic content that stands in stark contrast to the tittering repression exhibited in most British exploitation films of the period. 

    Locating materials for Whirlpool took some detective work, but we finally located the film’s original materials in UCLA’s archive, which included the film negative and optical soundtrack. We scanned the materials at Deluxe’s EFILM facility and graded and restored the film at R3Store Studios in London. Available references to work from were scant, but the materials were thankfully in  good condition and we were able to arrive at the closest approximation to the original look and feel of the film we deemed possible.

    We remastered the audio at Deluxe’s Audio facility in Los Angeles and were able to remove most of the surface noise issues while preserving the atmosphere of the soundtrack, including Stelvio Cipriani’s haunting score. Once the main restoration work was completed we expanded our search for any existing elements for the UK/European version, which included a couple extraneous shots and most notably, a voiceover during the final scene, but sadly no materials could be found. These differences are explored in an extra on our release, “Variations on Whirlpool”.

    As with Symptoms, Vampyres (1974) is a film unlike any other films made in Britain at the time, with its unrestrained marriage of sexuality and violence bringing a primary blood-lust to British cinema that simply hadn’t been seen before. This combination proved too much for the censors, who demanded Larraz cut his film throughout in order to pass classification. I had only seen Vampyres on video before, so I welcomed the opportunity to give the film its proper due with a new restoration of the complete uncut version from the original materials.

    Fortunately the film’s producer Brian-Smedley Aston had kept hold of the original negative which was both in very good shape and complete & uncut, with the the exception of a portion of the final reel, which we were able to source from a 35mm CRI element. All scanning, grading and picture restoration work was completed at R3Store Studios, with great care taken during the colour grading to maintain its gothic atmosphere, while presenting the stark reds of the bloodletting in all their lurid glory. The soundtrack was remastered from the optical negative at OCN Digital.

    Finally, we restored a Larraz title I had never seen a frame of prior to working on the film, The Coming of Sin (1978). This film, shot and produced completely in Spain, is really more of an erotic thriller than a horror film, although it maintains Larraz’s signature atmosphere of bleakness and dread throughout.

    The dislocation from reality is only further emphasised this time by the film’s use of light, film grain and a gauzy diffused texture. Materials were sourced from the Spanish licensors via Deluxe Madrid with the original camera negative serving as the primary picture element. Once again, references to work from were relatively nonexistent, but it was clear from examining the negative that the work to present the film’s unique look was achieved right there in the negative, and hadn’t been achieved through intermediate lab processing. After scans were completed at Deluxe, the remaining picture grading and restoration work was completed at R3Store Studios.

    Unfortunately the negative had retained some serious chemical damage which we could not completely remove, but aside from this the materials were in fairly decent shape. With regards to the audio, The Coming of Sin is a very quiet film, as little dialogue is actually spoken (a choice apparently made to conceal the nonprofessional actors’ limitations), making preserving the soundtrack’s atmosphere correctly all the more crucial. Fortunately the original magnetic reels had been kept and Deluxe Madrid was able to preserve the soundtrack with minimal tinkering. 

    Blood Hunger: The Films of José Larraz
    Blood Hunger: The Films of José Larraz

    Many people have helped make this project happen, including the restoration team at R3Store, Deluxe Madrid, EFILM/Deluxe Los Angeles, OCN Digital and the UCLA Film Archive. I should also like to thank Pete Tombs, both for his assistance during this project, and for his part in introducing me to the films of Jose Larraz a decade ago.

    Working on these Larraz films has been a truly eye-opening experience, one I hope to continue should the original materials surface for the remaining films in José Larraz’s output resurface one day. At the moment, the elements for many of his films remain shrouded in mystery, but my hope is that our work on these films will further his legacy and help bring about the rediscovery of those films that remain lost. 

    Blood Hunger: The Films of José Larraz available on Blu-ray March 25th from Arrow Video. Order today here.

  • Top 10 James Bond Movies

    Top 10 James Bond Movies

    By Johnathan Bonham.

    With Netflix having recently released a few James Bond movies for streaming, it seemed an appropriate time to put out a list ranking the top 10 movies of the series. Without further ado, here is my official list of the top 10 James Bond movies ever made.

    10. The Man with the Golden Gun

    Make no mistake, this movie is not great, but it’s pure fun. Roger Moore dons the tux and squares off against a crack shot assassin, Francisco Scaramanga (Christopher Lee), that is out to kill him.  It features a flying car, a sinister midget, and an epic dual in Scaramanga’s “Fun House.” What more could you want?

    9. License to Kill

    Bond (Timothy Dalton) is out for revenge after his friend at the CIA, Felix Leiter (David Hedison), is brutally attacked by a Colombian drug lord. Having to go rogue he teams up with CIA informer and lethal beauty, Pam Bouvier (Carey Lowell), and his ever-loyal master of gadgets, Q (Desmond Llewelyn). It’s refreshing to see Bond go completely unhinged here, and we get the bonus of a young Benicio Del Toro as a knife wielding henchman.

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  • Alice: The BRWC #SXSW Review

    Alice: The BRWC #SXSW Review

    By Halli Burton.

    As the saying goes: If it’s too good to be true, it probably is. 

    The titular character’s Parisian life is blissful. She has an adoring husband, Francois (Martin Swabey), and together they’re raising their cherubic son, Jules. 

    And Alice? Portrayed perfectly by the talented doe-eyed Emilie Piponnier, is sweet, timid and trusting.  It doesn’t taken long before she gets a painfully rude awakening, when she learns that the charming Francois is a morally corrupt thief and sex addict who has squandered all of their money on call girls.

    Cleverly, the film begins in the family kitchen, the heart of the home, with Alice happily baking while Jules pleads for some chocolate. But this seemingly romantic love story swiftly descends into a tale about lies, deceit and a mother’s fight for survival. After her credit card is declined, Alice visits her bank manager who delivers the devastating news that she is penniless. With the threat of her home being repossessed, Francois going AWOL and zero sympathy from her mother (“Maybe he felt something was missing at home”!), Alice resorts to working for Elegant Escorts, the very same agency that was patronised by Francois.

    Her first ‘gig’ is cringe-worthy, you can almost feel her discomfort, but it doesn’t take long to realise that Alice has a steely determination to provide for her child by any means necessary. The one good thing to come out of Alice’s new career, well second, given that she does indeed pay off her debts, is that she meets co-worker Lisa (Chloe Boreham), who becomes her only friend.

    Just as things start looking up for Alice…

    I commend the entire cast for their solid performances and delivery of a strong and thought-provoking script.

    Alice is the well-deserving winner of the Narrative Feature Competition at SXSW.

    Writer and director Josephine Mackerras’s debut feature film debut is a lesson in inner strength and second chances.

  • Electric Love: Review

    Electric Love: Review

    By Fergus Henderson. A lot of people are very worried about the future of romance. They worry that true connection is impossible, too slow and time consuming. The phone in your pocket contains the abstracted faces of a million potential partners. What a venal, superficial world we live in, say those pearl clutching worriers. Along comes Electric Love, the latest from LA up and comer Aaron Fradkin, to remind us that there’s no need to worry.

    In an age of alarmist entertainments like Black Mirror and Unfriended which deliver techno-paranoid nightmares to a self-flagellating audience, a romantic comedy like Electric Love is a welcome relief. Sure, it may land on the safe conclusion that taking some time away from our screens to have a proper conversation is the only way to foster a good connection, but it also knows that those screens are just tools that help us reach those moments of connection.

    In an LA that is bathed in beautiful neon hues straight out of Risky Business and set to a swooning 80s synth soundtrack, we meet two young aspiring creatives, Adam (Zachary Mooren) and Emma (Mia Serafino). Everybody worth making a film about in LA is aspiring, after all. They are both funny, thoughtful, sensitive people, navigating the disappointments of dating app romance.

    Fradkin uses the kinetic exuberance of the 80s aesthetic to maximum effect, propelling Adam and Emma individually through date after terrible date with a series of big-headed blowhards and humourless waifs in an energetic, funny sequence that will ring true for many. He shows great editing flare here and throughout.

    Finally, naturally, they match with each other. Technological sparks fly as they text jokes like Harry and Sally through the phone. When they meet up it plays like a contemporary Before Sunrise, the film and the viewer riding a total high as the clear chemistry between Mooren and Serafino fills each frame with promise and joy. But it cannot last forever.

    Doubt enters the picture as their past entanglements and paranoias start to eat away at the romance that had seemed so total the night before. Fradkin, with his whip-smart and naturalistic script, does not point the finger at the phone here, at least not completely. 

    Adam and Emma are both well-defined characters who don’t just play out a luddite parable in which their technology destroys them. They both have their reasons for doubting, their own histories. Emma might look through Adam’s close friend Stef’s Instagram, looking for clues of past romance. When you find out about her childhood, you understand why. And, of course, this is a romantic comedy. Love will prevail.

    This is the film’s biggest strength, its belief in its characters. It shows in both the main story and all the side plots, which in their own way also spell out the need for proper face-to-face communication and trust, and the power of goodness and love. 

    //www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWxgjXMUnjg

    And the side plots are their own series of heart-warming treats. Adam’s flatmate Dave (Byrne Owens) is growing worried that his long distance girlfriend is losing interest in him. Friend Greg (Matt Bush) is having no luck finding the connection he wants on Grindr. Emma’s podcasting flatmate Charlotte (Misha Reeves) is being trolled by someone who disagrees with her pro-polyamory stance. Each story follows a smart, tech-savvy arc to romantic actualisation. 

    Both the well-observed script and the uniformly strong and believable performances make one thing clear: technology is simply facilitating their journeys. If anything, it makes their expression and self-realisation more streamlined and clear. Thank God a filmmaker has finally taken this stance. It seems abundantly obvious and yet apparently it is always preferable to make a film that plays to our most noxious, self-loathing ideas of technology.

    Electric Love is a truly romantic, sexy film. Shane Collins’ gorgeous photography creates a vibrant, sensuous world, and Fradkin fills it with beautiful, funny, real characters. It believes in the importance of communication and decency but never falls into sentimentality. It is a joy to experience, and lingers deep in the mind, leaving a warm afterglow. Just like love.