FOR THE FUN OF IT:

 

I SAW RIPPER'S REVENGE

Ripper's Revenge is a 2023 sequel to writer/director Steve Lawson (High Fliers Films/Creative Films)' 2021 Ripper Untold: an intense study that focuses on one of the former's supporting characters, Chris Bell's Sebastian Stubb, an unscrupulous, London Morning Times/Ripper reporter. 

A year has passed since the last, Jack the Ripper slaying (the culprit revealed at the end of the initial chapter). This has left Stubb, who faked the Ripper letters, deflated and impoverished, living with his Whitechapel, lady-of-the-night girlfriend, Rachel Warren's Iris, to whom he can only promise better days.  

One morning, as he's guiding a young, upstart reporter, Lenny (Rafe Bird), with "editorial" advice, he receives Ripper letter, but how can this be, if Stubb was the one who fabricated those prior? The red ink, the florid verbiage, is even rendered in Stubb's cutting style. And then as his luck would have it, more "Dear Boss" letters begin to materialize, as well as new murders. 

A presumed copycat is on the loose, but if so, who among the cast of characters is the culprit? In addition to Bird's Lenny, we have Carl Wharton as the grudge-holding Inspector Wingate; Avianna Snow as his doomed daughter, Jessica; James M. Laurence as Stubb's judgmental editor-in-chief, Mr. Stimpson, and reprising his roaming-constable role from Ripper Untold, Marcus Langford. 

As the story progresses, Iris' involvement with the possible, neo-Ripper becomes more evident, though is she being blackmailed or does she hold a true, compliant link? No matter the answer, Warren gives her character an air of desperate realism, and her chemistry with Bell/Stubb is never too mushy or strained. It feels right throughout, despite its harboring deceit. 

That the movie presents Stubbs as a fated underdog builds the tale's momentum, in addition to structuring the events in such a way that Ripper Untold needn't be seen to appreciate the character's unfolding struggle. (I, for one, appreciate the idea of telling a tale from a so-called baddie's eyes, in order to reveal that the presumed villain isn't much of a villain, after all. Such was done in a 1980 episode of The Incredible Hulk, where fans saw from Jack McGee's perspective, and it change the series' landscape in a most positive way. I can say that the same applies in Ripper's Revenge's case, with Stubb still carrying his unsavory baggage, but also being humanized in way that would make his presence in Ripper Untold more interesting upon repeat viewings.)

On its right, Ripper's Revenge is both a satisfying mystery and an unsettling, slasher story, much of which is due to its commendable acting, Jon O'Neill's excellent photography, which mirrors that of the first film, and Lawson's fine, multilayered writing. Make it a double feature with Ripper Untold to instill an absorbing, dark experience. 

I SAW RIPPER UNTOLD

I've watched another Steve Lawson (High Fliers Films/Creative Films) effort: Ripper Untold. 

Though the account doesn't adhere to historic names or precise events as they unfolded in the Jack the Ripper case, writer/director Lawson creates a wicked tale that thrives from characterization, capped by a startling catch. 

The tale isn't only about the Whitechapel murders, but two, career men impacted by them: a Frederick Abberline-inspired, chief inspector named Edmund Rees, played by the affable and resolved Phil (Outlawed) Molloy and a coroner/medical examiner named Thomas Locque, played by Jonathan (Axed/The Fourth Musketeer) Hansler (who in this instance, exudes an apt, Gary Oldman/Sam Neill aura). Rees is diligent, principled and at times frustrated in his relationship with a caring madame named Miss Levine, played by Dawn Butler; Locque is sad and beleaguered, prone to drink and at odds with his desperate and dissatisfied wife, Elizabeth, played by Sylvia Robson. 

The men's hope to halt the killings leads to worrisome introspection, as they question their lives and abilities, facing obstacles that only worsen their predicament, such as Chris (The Mummy: Resurrection) Bell's Sebastian Stubb, a self-serving, London Morning Times journalist, and vigilant socialite/suspect, Barry Shannon's George Lowry. Meanwhile, Marcus Langford's steadfast constable is on hand to survey the murder sites and roam officious settings, while Jacob Anderton pushes the envelope as a corner's assistant, who finds inexplicable humor in the prostitutes' deaths.

Again, the precise, historical details are absent, but this is a melodrama, which like many Ripper dramatizations, makes utmost use of its gory foundation, inserting misleads and revelations where it can. At times, one will think one person to be the culprit, and the next, another. However, in the end, the tug of war snaps the leads in opposite directions: one destined for overwhelming despair; the other a chance at redemption. How they get to these pivotal places is part of the intrigue. 

The movie is sleek and credible in its look, due to Jon O'Neill's warm, if not foreboding photography. In this respect, Ripper Untold feels rather like a color version of The Body Snatcher, Corridors of Blood and The Flesh and the Fiends, while remaining on an aesthetic par with the radiant The Doctor and the Devils. 

This is one of those stylish productions that one should engage with a cup of tea on a chilly night: a movie that spurs the scares but never looses sight of the sort of depth that makes any movie worth indulging. (BTW: A sequel has emerged, which focuses on the unscrupulous Mr. Stubb; I'll be reviewing soon.)  

PINUP TIME: GATES MCFADDEN IS BEVERLY CRUSHER (CLASSIC TREK DRESS)

 

COLLECTIBLE TIME: DIAMOND SELECT 10" KRAVEN THE HUNTER MARVEL GALLERY FIGURE

Donna gave me a powerful, Diamond Select/Marvel Gallery, PVC "diorama" for Christmas: Kraven the Hunter!

The ready-for-action piece was designed by Caesar and sculpted by Alterton. It stands 10", and as the promotional shots relay, it seeps ferocious detail, including muscular ripples, lion shoulder-collar/vest, leopard-patterned pants and zebra-adorned cuffs and belt. The sneering Kraven (sporting a slick, Freddie Mercury-ish mustache) even grasps a feathered spear. 

The base is amazing, as well, invoking an old-time, Aurora style, featuring stones, grass, gnarly branches and bamboo protrusions. (As with other figures in this series, this one is displayed in a stylish, graphics-lined, window box.) 

What more can I say? I LOVE this figure, but then, I'm partial to tough-guy Kraven. (Hell, I'm sincere enough to say that I even dig the Aaron Taylor-Johnson movie.) I thank Donna from the bottom of my untamed heart for this satisfying surprise. Kraven's gonna find himself right at home in my Marvel/Diamond collection. 

FOR THE FUN OF IT:

I SAW JEKYLL AND HYDE 2021

As Bizarrechats readers may have inferred, I've gotten on a Steve Lawson kick, having since discovered the writer/director's Bram Stoker's Van Helsing and Wrath of Dracula. I've now come upon his Jekyll and Hyde, a 2021 High Fliers Films/Creative Films submission, which presents Robert Louis Stevenson's classic novella from a different, cinematic vantage. 

In this case, Lawson's retelling is filtered through Tom (Bram Stoker's Van Helsing) Hendryk's Gabriel Utterson (based on a character who carries much of Stevenson's narrative), as he reconsiders his relationship with Henry Jekyll, while defending the doctor's magnanimous reputation. 

Jekyll is, in fact, played faithful to the novella, with the doctor being more seasoned (rather like Boris Karloff in Abbott and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), with both personalities enacted by Michael McKell. However, for a stretch of the retelling, Jekyll and Hyde drop from view, with Jekyll perishing due to an apparent suicide, but in the end, their combined presence can't be denied, thanks to McKell's supreme, nuanced division, even if it takes Utterson's amateur, investigative skills a hardy (yet engaging) spell to get there. 

Mark (Bram Stoker's Van Helsing/Wrath of Dracula) Topping's Inspector Newcombe joins Utterson in his quest. As portrayed by the ever adept Topping, Newcome is sometimes wary of Utterson, but entertains the man's quest, if only to get to the bottom of Edward Hyde's Ripper-ized victims. (As a counterpart to Newcome's by-the-book decisiveness, David Lenik's Endfield adds crass levity as an unscrupulous version of Stevenson's side character. Helen Crevel's Sarah Utterson and Francesca Louise White's streetwalker, Penny Keaton, are most effective in their supporting roles, as well.) 

Though Lawson's venture starts as a mystery yarn (which Stevenson's fable is at heart), the second half adapts a Thomas Harris strand, which opens itself to elements of Christopher Nolan's The Prestige, but even with such said, this Jekyll and Hyde is its own affectionate thing. (It's a subtle reinvention of material, and therefore, a worthy path to reanalyze literary friends. Heck, even the late, great Ray Bradbury used this approach when revisiting his beloved characters.) 

For anyone who appreciate Stevenson's story and the many adaptations that have followed it, Lawson's Jekyll and Hyde is essential viewing. Because of its first-rate performances (and I might add, Hendryk's lead pulls it all together: a terrific characterization from start to finish), this will also be one worth revisiting. To say the least, I liked this redux very much, and I'm confident that those of my ilk will, too. 

TERRIFIC TEAM-UP IMAGE: WHEN DRACULA STRIKES!

SUNSET BLVD: NOT HORROR

It's a debate that perplexes me. I balked at the notion decades ago when someone (albeit with decent intent) dared to compare Billy Wilder's 1950 hit, Sunset Boulevard, as being cut from the same dark cloth as Psycho and What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? After many years of contemplation (hearing all the pros and cons), I'm even more adverse to the idea now. Shoot, I nearly came to blows with a know-it-all who tried to shove the idea down my throat at a New Year's party, but I settled instead on setting the record straight through a refined, verbal lashing. I'll now recount my pompous position for this post.  

Sunset Boulevard has been categorized as "hag horror," but it's not, let alone does it hold the consequential, warped-clan/incestuous seeds that inevitably seep from such, not by a long shot. It's more in tune with John Brahm/Charles Beaumont/Jerry Sohl's Twilight Zone episode, "Queen of the Nile," but "Queen" has a distinct, supernatural bent, whereas Wilder's movie (which he not only directed, but cowrote) has none. It's about an eccentric recluse who wishes to relive her days of glory. That's not horror. That's not out of the ordinary. If anything, it comes across as a later-day slice of costume drama, empowered by Wilder's excellent execution, Gloria Swanson's over-the-top performance as Norma Desmond and William Holden's charismatic inclusion as Joe Gillis, the eyes through which one experiences the tale. 

Sunset Boulevard isn't wrought with substantial, psychological warfare, either, in the way of Baby Jane, and it doesn't hit the shock value of Psycho or its sequels, let alone its deviations through the "reality-grounded" horrors of the Texas Chain Saw Massacre queue or the likes of Homicidal; Strait Jacket; Hush ... Hush, Sweet Charlotte; Willard; Dementia 13; Spider Baby; Three on a Meathook; Magic; Deranged; and well, the maniacal sub-genre goes on and on. 

Unfortunately, so does the irritating, nonsensical debate. Heck, Sunset Boulevard was even referenced as hag horror in a recent Scary Monsters, but dang it, folks, it's not horror! It's not even a general thriller, though it does hold a few edgy elements. It's no more than a quirky quasi-comedy with a surprise wraparound.  

You know, I'd sooner step forth and say, due to the production's flamboyant margins, it's something that the drag-queen crowd would appreciate, and that crowd doesn't liken its antics to horror, unless one considers Dr. Frank-N-Furter, and he's never been a genuine embodiment of horror, no matter who argues the point. (We all know that Rocky Horror is more of a "pride parade" disguised as a monster movie, and there ain't no shame in that.)

For the record, Sunset Boulevard was also the basis for an Andrew Lloyd Webber/Don Black musical, and all for good cause. Its content meshes with that frilly-dilly sort of thing, and don't be a wiseass and try to compare it to Webber/Charles Hart's Phantom of the Opera, let alone its underrated sequel. Those productions are impassioned animals all unto themselves, and indeed, horror-sprung, regardless of their pretty polish.  

Anyway, there you have my two cents worth on Sunset Boulevard. For me, I hope this puts an end to the banter, at least when it comes to my vexed presence, and opens the door for worthier quarrels, like "Is Robert Eggers' Nosferatu a true-blue, Christmas movie?" Now, that's something worth debating.