Comparison screen captures of GRITOS EN LA NOCHE/THE AWFUL DR. ORLOF from, top to bottom: 1) the
Image DVD, 2) the Spanish Regia DVD, and 3) the Kino Blu-Ray, the latter
courtesy of Mondo Digital (www.mondo-digital.com). The inadequacy of the Kino version should be evident. While offering more side information and sharpness, the picture lacks the vital interplay between black and white and their various shadings, a requirement for good black and white cinematography. Almost completely missing in the Kino capture is the white light of the candles, the left glow beyond the door, and the sensual dimensions of actress Diana Lorys' skin and dress.
The lineup is impressive: Nigel Wingrove and his Redemption
label, which has for decades brought euro-horror to fans and the public, David
Gregory, the premiere interviewer/supplement director for many euro-horror
DVD and Blu-Ray releases, and Tim Lucas, whose credentials are impeccable.
The result of this convergence, however, is a
regrettable disappointment.
Right off the bat, it must be stated that any release of
GRITOS EN LA NOCHE that doesn’t include the Spanish version is already facing a
serious deficit. The Spanish version is the true landmark film that Franco shot
in 1961. By not showing this version, viewers are denied about 11 minutes of
the original film and the appreciation of what the Spanish audio reveals, which in a
couple of key scenes is an absent musical score that lets silence and natural sounds accent the tension and illuminate key scenes with the blind Morpho (Ricardo Valle). The tension is particularly
heightened in the sequence where Morpho, by hearing, follows a wandering Wanda (Diana Lorys) in Orlof's castle, guided by the sound of her movement. Yes, we do get the clunky nude inserts that
were mandated by Eurocine and probably, but not certainly, shot by Franco. These two scenes would be perfectly deposited
in “extras” as they are not imperative
in the body of the film where they distract. Undoubtedly, rights to the Spanish version
were either difficult and/or too expensive to acquire, so this deficit is
understandable, though still persistently unfortunate.
As with the Blu-Rays of BLACK SUNDAY (the Kino and Arrow release), THE AWFUL DR. ORLOF suffers from a transfer that dilutes in
many parts the black and white photography of its cinematographer, in this case Godofredo Pacheco. At times we seem to be
witnessing a peculiar solarized grey that robs a scene of impact and annoys. The dynamic power of black and white, its
sleazy, shadowy invocations when dealing with horror or exploitation films, are
gone. Naturally, with the high resolution,
the viewer will notice visual minutia missed before: In one scene I could see, remarkably, the
abraded threads of loosened wallpaper.
While such sightings may be revelatory and impressive, much more
important, I think, is seeing the chiaroscuro power of the entire film, the essential strength of black and white that, in the right hands, can be breathtaking. Courtesy Bob Furmanek’s 3D Film Archive, I recently
had the opportunity to see a 35mm trailer for the American version, and it was
more dynamic and even awe-inspiring in those few minutes than any replication
of this film I have ever seen. The Blu-Ray release is particularly lacking the intensity
of the original film element, and, aside from the absence of a Spanish version,
this is its major shortcoming.
With the Franco interview in the Kino Blu-Ray we probably have the final
words of Franco on the topic of GRITOS EN LA NOCHE. It seems, however, that the main question
asked of Jess was the one to get him started: “So tell us about GRITOS?” Franco rambles on, entertaining and mischievous
and lovable as always, but offering up no significant new information. Could not the interviewer, given what could
have been surmised as the last words of Franco on the subject, have poised
questions not typically asked of Franco of this film: Did Franco
shoot the nude scenes for a French version?
If yes, was he anxious in doing so, considering the Spanish government’s prohibitive stance on nudity in films? How was it shooting at
the San Martin de Valdeiglesias castle, a location Franco used before and after GRITOS? What other locations were used in the
film? Did actor Conrado San Martin offer financial assistance to the production?
None of these imperative questions are
asked. Sure, Franco could have lied his
head off in response, but then his words would have been before us to evaluate. An opportunity lost that can never be
retrieved. (The other featurette I saw—memories of the film from French cinephiles—is of more
interest.)
Doing a commentary for GRITOS EN LA NOCHE is a thankless job, no doubt. Whatever little information exists about this
film has already been regurgitated among Francophiles, and, aside from Franco
and Vernon, no interviews are readily available from its cast or crew. Tim Lucas braves it out, but finds himself
weaving too much among IMDB factoids (so-and-so was born on____; so-and-so made his/her last film in the
year____, etc.) not to suspect an over-reliance on them. Then, too, there were,
surprisingly, a number of erroneous statements and highly dubious theories put
forth. I had to do a mental double-take
and speed my player back to the scene a couple of times when Tim spoke of the
light illuminating Orlof's face in the cabaret scene with Dany (Maria Silva) as
coming from the necklace presented to her, when it's very clear that the light
is coming from a reflection off the compact mirror she is looking at to admire
the necklace around her neck. In referencing the Spanish version, Tim mentions that
the operation on the face of the Mara Lasso character ends in a fade-to-black,
but it actuality cuts to Morpho standing nearby. Tim suggests that Orlof,
after accidentally stabbing Arne (Perla Cristal), considers using her skin for an
operation on his daughter, when it appears clear to me that the distraught
Orlof is placing the blade of the scalpel to her nose to see if any breath will
appear on it. (The scene is played too quickly, to be sure, but the implication
remains.) In listing the films Maria
Silva co-starred with Paul Naschy, Tim includes I HATE MY BODY, which is not a
Naschy film, though its director, Leon Klimovsky, is a familiar presence in
Naschy's filmography. He states that the
name of Orlof is taken from the Edgar Wallace novel, THE DARK EYES OF LONDON,
when the novel doesn’t have any Orlof--or Orloff--in it. (That name would be
created for the 1939 film of the book.) He
insists that Franco must have been influenced by the German film version of the
novel, DIE TOTEN AUGEN VON LONDON (DEAD EYES OF LONDON), but that film was in production in the same year as GRITOS and
did not have a Spanish exhibition until a few years later.
Tim also mentions that nowhere in its
theatrical showings, domestic or international, was GRITOS exhibited under the
name "Jess Franco," but he does mention that the Spanish release
contains the directorial credit of "Jesus Franco"--Franco's real
name--so I'm not sure why this is of import, unless the commentary would follow
through, which it doesn’t, on when and why Franco, or his producers, began
using "Jess" instead of "Jesus."
Tim toys with the intriguing possibility (implying
it may be a long shot, thankfully) of the elderly flower lady seen later in the
film as being Franco’s mother, but the actress, Mercedes Manera/Manero, is listed as being in other films
before this one, and Franco notes in his autobiography, MEMORIAS DE TIO JESS, that his mother was
small and plumpish, hardly the woman we see in the role. In a bit of trump card playing, Tim presents toward
the end of the commentary the concept that GRITOS is “Jewish film.” There is some validity to this. Yes, the producers were Jewish (something Tim
doesn’t mention) and Franco has claimed Jewish blood, but just how Tim figures
that Orlof is taken from the Polish name Orlowski is puzzling and, further, why
"Orlowski" would then be a Jewish name is beyond me. I like speculation, btw, and use it, but it
has to face the evidence of facts to remain even remotely credible.
I winced badly almost
every time Tim spoke a Spanish name or a Spanish film title.
There were frequent enough occurrences of
this that proved so distracting to me that I had to pause the commentary and
return to it at a later time when I had calmed down.
I think it’s incumbent on anyone doing a
film commentary, which demands far more preparation than, say, an interview, to
make the attempt to approximate the proper pronunciation of a name or title in
a foreign language.
(I could do without
the attempt to mimic the Castilian lisp, though.)
Spanish is one of the easiest languages to
find someone who can render phonetic help.
Certainly using in this capacity Elena Anele, for instance, whom we all
know from her HORROR RISES FROM SPAIN audio blog, would have been prudent.
Emailing and then Skyping with her should
have solved the problem.
There are several high points in Tim’s commentary, to be
sure, and Tim employs his familiar erudite and occasional poetic manner to make one
appreciate his smooth intelligence and be charmed, overall, by his commentary.
But as a track of
substance and value, the commentary falls short and simply bewilders at points.
The release of THE AWFUL DR ORLOF as a Blu-Ray certainly makes
business sense. It’s a title that excites the Franco and euro-horror fan, and
can even intrigue the Universal classic horror aficionado. But the result, particularly as several renowned
principals were involved, makes one achingly wish for something far different. All one asks is that the film be done right
by the sterling and wide-ranging possibilities of the Blu-Ray format. Such is not the case here.
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