Lucertola Media
Format: DVD
1974, Color, 96 mins.
Letterboxed (1.66:1)
Directed by Mario Bava
More than any other title, this will be the one to get horror and Italian cinema fans out to the stores to buy DVD players. This long-lost crime film from director Mario Bava, best known in the U.S. for the films Black Sunday and Black Sabbath, restores an important part of Italian cinema and sheds some amazing light on this neglected master of macabre cinema.
Described in the liner notes as what would happen if Quentin Tarantino remade Last House on the Left in a speeding car, Rabid Dogs (Cani Arrabiati) is even grimmer and 
more nihilistic than such a description would suggest. After pulling a minor heist, three robbers abduct a young woman (Lea Lander) and take her hostage along with a middle-aged man (Riccardo Cucciolla), who is attempting to drive his sedated son to the hospital. Most of this uncomfortable, gritty film takes place within the car itself, allowing Bava to explore some seriously twisted character dynamics and deliver more than a couple of disturbing plot twists. The downbeat O. Henry-style ending would have probably been a lot more shocking in 1974 than it is now, but it still packs a nasty punch.
If Rabid Dogs can be likened to any other Bava film, it would have to be Twitch of the Death Nerve (Bay of Blood), historically the first real body count movie and the only other film in the maestro's canon to display the same level of pessimism for human nature. However, Twitch's sick, playful undertones are discarded here for an unflinchingly bleak gaze at the underbelly of man's killer instinct for money. Despite the less-than-groundbreaking storyline, Bava milks the situation for all it's worth and draws on the same eerie, desolate European countryside atmosphere later depicted unforgettably in George Sluizer's The Vanishing. Stylistically, Rabid Dogs bears little resemblance to the candy-colored fantasias of his other films; here, he indulges in some truly odd touches, such as the intercutting of a pinball game to symbolize a character's conflicted mental state 
during a crucial violent moment. It would have been interesting to see this with an audience, and whether it would have received any distribution outside of Italy at the time will regrettably never be known. The acting is almost too good for comfort, with George Eastman (Luigi Montefiori), best known for Joe D'Amato's The Grim Reaper, actually delivering an effective performance as the pathetic, stupid, and pathological "32," while Lander (who was primarily for the film's restoration) makes a very convincing woman in peril. Mention must also be made of Stelvio Cipriani's terrific, jittery '70's crime score; it's one of his finest efforts.
Lucertola Media, best known for their incredible releases of classic European horror and sleaze scores on CD, has done a first-rate job of presenting the film, with abundant extras including the 1997 release trailer and biographies and filmographies for the major cast and crew. The numerous beautiful Bava posters are worth it alone. The nicely letterboxed transfer shows off the stark cinematography to good effect, though the notes explain the color had to be toned down due to the various source materials cobbled together to create a complete release print. While some minor signs of wear are evident now and then, it's nothing too distracting. The very clear sound adds to the increasing claustrophobia. Video Watchdog's Tim Lucas has done an admirable job subtitling the film in English (German subtitles are included as well), though the font type, while legible, is almost too small for comfort. This import may be a bit more pricey than most DVD releases, but it's well worth it.
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