SO DARK THE NIGHT/MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS: Arrow's Blu-ray debut of two gems from Joseph H. Lewis

OK: one of these films -- MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS -- has maybe got not so many carats, but it still offers a lot of good, old-fashioned mystery fun.

The other, however -- SO DARK THE NIGHT -- is a compelling little diamond in nowhere near the rough. It is such a stylistic gem, in fact, that TrustMovies suspects only the unduly delayed rise of filmmaker Joseph H. Lewis (shown below) into the pantheon of important movie-makers is responsible for its too-little-known reputation.

Lewis could work in just about any genre but may best be known, particularly after the current Blu-ray release of these two films, for his near-film-noir endeavors. Most movie buffs know Gun Crazy, certainly one of the filmmaker's best and most original works, along with The Big Combo. But his noir-ish western Terror in a Texas Town also deserves a place at the table.

As a kid I was particularly taken with Lewis' The Undercover Man, and A Lady Without a Passport, and much later his war film, Retreat, Hell! Once Lewis moved over to television, never to return to films, I rather forgot about him and his work. Thankfully, Arrow Academy/Arrow Home Video is bringing Lewis and that fine work back into our sites and sight.

My Name is Julia Ross stars an upcoming Nina Foch (above), quite good as the smart and energetic young lady trying to find a decent job in postwar London. To give away almost anything about the plot of the film risks major spoilers, so I'll just say that the movie is awash in mystery of the what-the-hell-is-going-on? variety and features some witty and delightful performances from a terrific supporting cast that includes the likes of Dame May Whitty (below), while offering up a mother-son relationship that is surely one for the books.

The black-and-white cinematography is crisp and bright in this beautiful new transfer, and as usual with Arrow product, the "extras" are definitely worth viewing, in particular the background to and analysis of the film by The Nitrate Diva (Nora Fiore). Ms Fiore stretches her theories a bit, but what she has to say is often fun and worth hearing.

My Name is Julia Ross runs but 65 minutes and was clearly meant to be "filler" on the second half of a double bill. But it proved popular enough to be itself be a hit for its studio (Columbia Pictures) and thus gave Lewis the opportunity to work on other, more important films. From Arrow Films, distributed here on the USA via MVD Visual, the movie arrived on Blu-ray earlier this month and is available now for purchase and (I hope) rental.

One of these "more important" movies for Lewis -- and one of the director's best -- was So Dark the Night, which, among other things, gave the well-known character actor, Hungarian-born Steven Geray (shown at right and below), a role the likes of which he would never again see, and which he filled so well that, had our always-nonsensical Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences been paying any attention to "little" movies, this fine actor would have garnered a nomination, if not the Oscar itself.

Filmmaker Lewis creates here an almost shockingly charming beginning, as our hero, a famous and very bright Parisian detective goes on vacation to a small provincial town where he hopes to relax and forget his cares. Are we surprised when trouble brews?

Not at all, but what holds us for so long is how delightful Lewis makes this town and its citizens -- almost so French-ified that they come close to cliche -- yet with something just a little bit "off." Lewis also manages a feat that few film directors ever dared: He shows us what's wrong with that typical Hollywood relationship between an older man and girl 30 years his junior.

All the sweetness and charm soon evaporate, once murder after murder arrives. You will imagine you've nailed the killer, but don't be too sure. By the end of this highly unusual, profoundly sad film, you and our hero will have gone places neither of you ever imagined.

Running only 71 minutes, So Dark the Night hit the street earlier this month via Arrow Academy, distributed here in the USA by MVD Visual. It's available now for purchase and (I hope) rental. Again, the Bonus Features are first-rate -- even better than those on the My Name is Julia Ross disc. And why not -- for this is by far the superior movie.

Eiichi Yamamoto's BELLADONNA OF SADNESS: Blu-ray debut of the restored and rediscovered masterpiece of erotic animation

A "must" for anyone who appreciates animation, eroticism, and/or the culture and spirit of the 1970s, BELLADONNA OF SADNESS -- a Japanese anime originally released in 1973 (but never seen theatri-cally here in the USA until 2016) and based on the French erotic novel, La Sorcière, by Jules Michelet -- is so very different from the kind of animation we get these days that it seems almost quaint. Yet within that quaintness resides a wealth of eroticism and wonder.

As directed by Eiichi Yamamoto (shown at right), with art directions by Kuni Fukai and a succulent, of-its-time-period musical score by Masahiko Sato (the time period in question is the 1970s, rather than the medieval era in which the story is set), the movie tells the tale of young lovers Jean and Jeanne (shown below in one of their happy times) who, on their wedding night are summarily separated by the Lord of their village and his nasty wife. Jeanne is repeatedly raped by that Lord and his men, while Jean is tossed out of the castle to find his way home, alone.

Already we're in the realm of class, economics, sex, rape, religion (the town priest looks on at these goings-on with utter benignity), the psychology of self-loathing, and feminism -- seen, of course, via the eyes (and the paintbrush) of the male. Naturally, the female of the species isn't simply the victim here; she's the perpetrator, too. Ah, Eve: you naughty, naughty girl!

What makes the animation so lavish and lush -- and utterly different from what we're used to these days -- is its simplicity, symbolism, use of color, and in particular, its use to white space. Take the initial rape (above): the combo of sudden violence, jagged art and dense and pounding music makes the moment something of a staggerer.

What's oddest about the animation is that is rarely moves much. And yet the colors -- whether bright and saturated, pastel (above) or intricately shaded (below) -- are quite magical to view. As we learn of the ups and down of our gorgeous couple (mostly downs, unfortunately), we also meet Jeanne's "saviour," who turns out to the devil --first appearing to our heroine in the guise of what looks suspiciously like a little penis (below), and very soon he is doing all those pleasurable things for which the penis is best known.

Before you can say, "Sell me your soul, sweetie!" Jeanne does just that, in order to exact some revenge upon her "Lord." But revenge, which constitutes the remainder of the tale, turns out to be rarely sweet, often ugly, and almost always erotic.

And true to the times -- then, now, and forever, it would seem -- it's the Lord's wife (above, center left) who is punished most (along with her page, extreme left: ah, class distinctions!), while the Lord (center, right) and his Priest get off scot-free.

Along the way Jeanne gets fucked by Satan, which becomes one hell of a light show culminating in a riot of all the colors, styles and time frames you could ask for, followed by one of the most all-out sexual orgies that animation has ever given us, as though Picasso and Bosch had joined forces but confined themselves to the use of only happy, bright, approaching-day-glo colors.

The Black Plague? Of course!  And how well it is done, decimating an entire city in seething black-and-white animation. Finally Jean and Jeanne do get it on -- in the sweetest of the segments, all pastels -- and then we quickly return to the bad times once again.

But even those bad times are hugely erotic -- notice how the smoke from a burning-at-the-stake curls around and into every orifice with such sinuous glee -- all accompanied by Masahiko's signature 70s music that will take you pleasurably back in time. The film's final shot, by the way, is a hoot and a half -- and thoroughly anti-church.

On the Blu-ray extras are some very good interviews with director, art director and composer that give us some history of each man, as well as his approach to what he felt was needed for this particular movie. Also included is the original Japanese trailer for the film, plus the current trailers, both red-band and green.  (The film is also said to include eight minutes of explicit footage, rescued from the sole surviving release print. As explicit it is may be for its time, however, don't expect much, maybe any, male full-frontal.)

After its 50-plus theatrical engagements across the country, Belladonna of Sadness -- from Cinelicious and The CineFamily -- hits the street this coming Tuesday, July 12, on both Blu-ray and VOD -- for purchase or rental. Just make sure the kids are in bed before you watch, or you will have an awful lot of questions to field....

Worth a look: Philippe Vallois' JOHAN, seminal gay French film from the 70s

An iconic fragment of the French gay 70s that evidently has not been seen since its debut year of 1976, JOHAN is a kind of documen-
tary in which its writer/director Philippe Vallois and his film both search for a replacement for his lover and supposed star -- who's in prison for multiple petty larcenies and thus unable to either film or fuck. In fact, the movie comes close to being a near- (and quite early) example of a mockumentary: full of knowing ironies; deliberately provocative (in its own day and even now) with its views of handsome young men, often full-frontal and sometimes engorged; exhibiting sly humor combined with vexing self-satis-
faction and self-pity. And, as was the wont of filmmakers in this era, the footage alternates between color and black-and-white.

The movie takes its title from the Vallois' unseen but constantly talked-of and now imprisoned companion, to whom all the young men we see in the film are compared and found wanting. Yet, meeting these yummy youths -- who wear their tight, basket-bulging bell-bottoms of the time and disrobe at a moment's notice -- takes us on a kind of tour of the gay haunts of 70s Paris, and of the filmmaker's friends, including one very attractive blond young woman, who's equally happy to disrobe. And not only does the titular but unseen Johan have his stand-ins, so does the director, shown below, left, with his own little cutie, played by Patrice Pascal, at right.

We meet a transvestite, Philippe's mom, a Genet-like young man who's into S&M (actually, he explains, he's much more a sadist; it's the older men who are masochistic: yeah, sure), a Cuban refugee, and one amazingly beautiful black man who's a kind of actor/dancer/pastry cook (below) who, together with the the filmmaker's gorgeous stand-in actor, brings the films to a heady, sexy visual finale (below) with a bout of lovemaking that is, well, memorable. Although said to be 90 minutes long in the original French version, what's on the DVD amounts to only 80 minutes, but this is just enough, considering the film's mix of auteurism, irreverence and pretention/gradiosity. Around the time our ass begins experiencing the Harry Cohen test, the movie ends.

But there's more, and it's a must-see. Johan was preemptively banned and dumped by the French censors as pornographic, after making a splash at the Cannes festival that year (if you feel a male erection constitutes pornography, then it was and it is, even though standards have changed since '76). Some thirty years after Vallois made his movie, the filmmaker discovers a relatively pristine copy of an early version containing some of the scenes that were cut out and so is able to release his groundbreaking work on DVD -- along with a 30-minute "now" documentary in which he shows and tells of the making of his film and what happened to many of the characters we've just seen. This is fascinating enough, adding greatly to our understanding and pleasure, but Vallois also tells of his own early life, his lover/mentor who headed the French Opera, and his relationship with the real Johan (whom we finally see at last) pre-, during and post- moviemaking. This little documentary provides a wonderful addition to the movie itself and, in fact, is in some ways as good as the film that precedes it.

Comparions have been made to Taxi zum klo, released five years later, but that film is much grittier and more overtly political. For visual appeal alone, I'll take Vallois' movie. Distributed by Water Bearer Films, Johan is available for rental from Netflix and for purchase via TLA or Amazon.

(All photos are from the film.)