A film still almost completely unknown outside of die-hard film historians and avid fans of obscure '70s cinema, A Day at the Beach is usually referred to as a "lost" Roman Polanski film, in the sense that it was both physically lost for over two decades (due to mishandling by its distributor, Paramount) as well as the opportunity 
missed when Polanski wrote the script but had to bow out of directorial chores when his wife, Sharon Tate, was murdered by the Manson family. Had timing or circumstances been different and Polanski had brought his words to the screen, it would have certainly fit in with the increasingly dark, despairing tone of his early '70s work like Macbeth and Chinatown.
The story is another riff on the journey of an Anglo-Saxon alcoholic lout, a convention that's out of fashion now but which fascinated Hollywood all the way from Day of Wine and Roses to Arthur to Leaving Las Vegas. Here our protagonist lush is Bernie (Burns), a boozer who takes his young, polio-stricken neice, Winnie (Edney), out for a drizzly day at the English beachside where they encounter a colorful array of characters. Winnie is all too aware of her uncle's weakness and 
tries to keep him grounded for the excursion, but as night falls and the bars begin to call, she isn't sure he'll make it till morning.
Featuring delicate, evocative photography by the great Gilbert Taylor (The Omen) and some surprising bit parts (most memorably Peter Sellers, billed as "A. Queen," and Graham Stark as a pair of flamboyant beach vendors), A Day at the Beach is a fascinating mood piece if ultimately a minor entry in the Polanski filmography. Director Simon Hesera didn't really do much outside of this, so it's especially easy to read into the writer's contribution here along with the presence of two cast members from 
Polanski's The Fearless Vampire Killers, Jack MacGowran (The Exorcist) and the gorgeous Fiona Lewis (The Fury). Similarities to Polanski's Cul-de-sac, Knife in the Water and especially his short films like "Two Men and a Wardrobe" and "The Fat and the Lean" abound with the seaside doubling as a psychological force which drives the characters and threatens to consume some of them, with its changing rhythms during the day affecting the bustling crowd as well as the flow of the story.
Considering almost no one saw this film before a print was resuscitated in the 1990s, it's rather miraculous we have A Day at the Beach on DVD at all. Code Red's DVD is on par with many other Paramount catalog titles of the period; the film stock as that somewhat gritty look of the time with chilly fleshtones (think Don't Look Now or Let's Scare Jessica to Death), and the widescreen framing looks about right if a tad snug on the bottom during the opening titles. You don't get any extras here apart from the usual Code Red promos (for films like The Farmer and Choke Canyon), but that's understandable given the fact that the director's unreachable, the main actor's dead, and everyone knows why Polanski can't exactly be flown in for a commentary.
For those willing to go along with the free-association plot (which involves fashion-conscious nudists and weird unseen tenants), this is fairly amusing, eccentric viewing, with the cast obviously having fun in an opulent setting. The lazy Mediterranean atmosphere is the perfect dreamy locale, while Mastroianni still exudes the effortless charm found in his earlier Fellini outings. The classy score by Blood for Dracula’s Claudio Gizzi (who most recently contributed to the soundtrack of the excellent Plague Town) incorporates Mozart
Virtually forgotten now, What? failed to ignite the box office when it was released in 1972 (with a dubious X rating in the US). Following the success of Chinatown, distributor Avco Embassy removed 20 minutes and reshuffled many scenes, marketing the jumpy new product as a sex film called Diary of Forbidden Dreams. This edition remained most widely available on home video with the scope photography butchered to full frame as badly as the narrative itself. The original was eventually released on DVD first in the form of the Italian DVD, anamorphically enhanced and uncut. The transfer looks wonderful apart from the deliberately murky nocturnal opener and was derived
A more full-blown, English-friendly version came down the pike several years later as Severin Films' inaugural UK release, with what appears to be the same excellent transfer but now without the forced subtitles or phony audio tweaking. Only the English track is included, which is fine considering that's how the film was shot. The disc carries over the same trailer but adds a host of new extras, including a new 16- minute English interview with Rome (who talks about her memories of Polanski, the perception of the film as erotic even though it contains no actual sex scenes, and the gorgeous villa location). Next up, the enigmatic Claudio Gizzi finally appears on camera for "Memories of a Young Pianist," a 22-minute interview in which he covers everything from his early collaborations with Visconti (including Death in Venice) to a thorough dissection of his majestic work for the two Paul Morrissey films, even playing the main theme from Blood for Dracula on his piano over the closing credits. Finally, cinematographer Marcello Gatti (who also shot The Battle of Algiers) appears for the 16-minute "A Surreal Pop Movie," who focuses mainly on the Polanski shoot and his relationships with the crew while fleetingly toching on some of his other major Italian productions. A very thorough and rewarding package overall for one of Polanski's most obscure, misunderstood works.
The first of Roman Polanski's evocative Parisian thrillers, The Tenant was widely reviled upon its initial release for what many perceived as a far too drastic change of pace from the celebrated Chinatown. Of course, anyone who could connect the dots further back could see its progression from the similar "apartment living is hell" studies, Rosemary's Baby and Repulsion; furthermore, the film looks forward in striking ways all the way up to The Pianist, which virtually reprises this film in a more compact form during its middle act.
Paramount's highly satisfying DVD offers a sterling visual presentation with robust colors and exceptional black levels, essential to appreciating the disturbing final third of the film. Previous transfers were often washed out, but this disc corrects those years of video abuse. Compared to past editions, the DVD adds some information to the sides of the image while losing a bit of extraneous headroom from the top; compositions look accurate throughout. The audio has always sounded rather muffled, which unfortunately is the case here as well; prepare to turn up the volume far more than normal. In the English language version, only Polanski, Winters, Douglas and Van Fleet spoke their own performances; everyone else was dubbed afterwards and can be seen speaking a mixture of English and French. The alternate French audio on the disc (which can be viewed with optional English subtitles) is in many ways a more effective and satisfying presentation, as supporting characters which were brash and sloppily dubbed in English come off as far more naturalistic in French. The French track offers the only opportunity to hear Adjani's real voice, while Polanski did dubbing duties for himself as well. Newcomers may want to stick with the English version first, but the alternate audio makes for a rewarding experience as well. And yes, that troublesome Enter the Dragon clip with Bruce Lee, which caused more than a few legal headaches and even had to be trimmed out of some UK versions, is here in all its glory. The sole extra is the creepy US trailer, which utilizes original footage of Polanski standing in a doorway.
Best known for traumatizing generations of teenage literature students, Roman Polanski's savage adaptation of Macbeth was his first studio project after the death of his wife, Sharon Tate, at the
Turning in a surprisingly versatile and accomplished performance, relative newcomer Finch (who appeared as a more modern antihero the next year in Hitchcock's Frenzy) heads a believable cast of characters
Thanks to its relative failure at the box office, Macbeth has suffered for years from shoddy, murky pan and scan transfers on VHS and laserdisc which sapped away all of the original schemes and rendered the stylish compositions completely useless. No wonder many students hated to sit through it! Columbia's DVD is a hi-def upgrade of their letterboxed transfer which briefly aired on cable pay channels, often with artificial zooms to conceal frontal nudity. The DVD is completely uncut and uncensored, and apart from the ragged title sequence (which is filled with scratches and scuffs), the print looks magnificent. Colors are bold and nicely saturated, particularly when colors like red and orange suddenly intrude into the background or burst in from the sides of the frame. Detail is smooth and impressive, and the mono audio sounds free of distortion. Credit for the film's unnerving impact must also be given to the eerie score by the Third Ear Band, a mixture of medieval bagpipe music with a few dashes of prog rock sensibilities. Though it isn't usually labelled as a horror film, Macbeth certainly fits the bill in terms of both sight and sound. Columbia's DVD is packaged with the same inexplicable cover as their previous editions; too bad they refuse to go back to the excellent original poster art. Skimpy extras include optional English subtitles or subs in Spanish or Portuguese, as well as the theatrical trailer for this and - believe it or not - Sense and Sensibility. Apparently there's some connection between Shakespeare and Jane Austen over at the Columbia marketing department, though why they didn't include The Taming of the Shrew instead is anyone's guess.
B&W, 1966, 111m. / Directed by Roman Polanski / Starring Donald Pleasence, Françoise Dorléac, Jack MacGowran / Anchor Bay (UK R0 PAL) / WS (1.78:1) (16:9), Pioneer (Japan R2 NTSC) / WS (1.66:1) From the disorienting opening sequence which finds the criminals' car stranded out in the middle of nowhere, Cul-de-sac finds sinister amusement in leading its audience along on a path which fittingly seems to lead to a dead end. The fun lies in what happens along the way, with Pleasence shining in one of his best and most atypical roles. Everyone else is up to his level, though, with MacGowran amusingly making the most of his few, agonized lines; he would team up with Polanski again for The Fearless Vampire Killers. Celebrity spotters should keep their eyes open for a bit part by a young Jacqueline Bisset, speaking her first lines ever onscreen. The late Polish jazz composer Krzysztof Komeda, who went on to fame scoring Rosemary's Baby, pitches in with a catchy, sparse series of musical motifs which assure the viewer that this is indeed a comedy, all surface appearances to the contrary. Though almost impossible to find in the United States, Cul-de-sac has been given a much more respectable treatment in Japan. Pioneer's DVD is a joy to behold from start to finish, apart from some damage during the company logos and part of the opening credits. The print used is nearly pristine and features excellent contrast (even better if you have a black enhancement control on your player), while the audio is crisp and clear throughout. The Japanese subtitles can be turned off, allowing English-speaking viewers to experience this little gem without any distractions. The disc also includes a trailer reel composed of edited European previews for Repulsion, Cul-de-sac, and Knife in the Water, all available on Japanese DVD.
The perverse opposite of its title, Frantic is Polanski's dreamy, stylish entry in the Hitchcockian suspense genre, and as usual he fills out the storyline with his usual delightful touches and eccentric characters. Anchored by a solid central performance by Harrison Ford as the sympathetic Yank lost in the haze of Paris, this thriller wisely focuses more on atmosphere and character development than gun battles and car chases. After arriving in Paris for a conference, an American doctor, Richard Walker (Ford), is horrified when his wife, Sondra (Betty Buckley), disappears without a trace from their hotel room. The local police prove to be of no help whatsoever, but soon Richard deduces that a tragic mix up has resulted in his wife being abducted by the Parisian gangster/drug underground. With the aid of a mysterious young waif named Michelle (Polanski's wife, Emmanuelle Seigner), Richard decides to confront the evildoers on his own terms, but perhaps at the expense of several lives. In the first of her memorable appearances in her husband's films (also including Bitter Moon and The Ninth Gate), Seigner makes an indelible impression and gives Ford a run for his money. Critics have often taken shots at her acting ability, but there's no denying that she's beautiful to look at and fits her Polanski roles quite well. Ford looks appropriately dazed and vulnerable throughout, a surprising choice considering this film landed in the middle of his Indiana Jones heyday. Perhaps best of all, the legendary Ennio Morricone contributes a spectacular, vertigo-inducing score that lends an unearthly tone to even the most ordinary dialogue scenes. While Warner has issued Frantic on DVD in both the United States and England, the two versions are quite different. The American edition, part of their bargain budget line, is a grainy rehash of their old VHS/laserdisc transfer. The image quality is colourful but annoyingly grainy; even worse, the hard-matted image has been cropped on the sides and has even lost some information on the top and bottom! This claustrophobic edition may be cheap, but it does little justice to the film's visual artistry. (To add insult to injury, the closing credits are perfectly letterboxed and look beautiful.) The Region 2 release in Great Britain looks much better, with accurate 1.85:1 anamorphic letterboxing and a merciful decrease in the amount of grain. The surround soundtrack is comparable on both versions, and neither disc contains any bonus material of note. Viewers with HD channels may also note that a hi-def transfer from Warner has also made the rounds on television and surpasses both versions, so hopefully a Blu-Ray version will appear somewhere down the road.
Filled with the disorienting malaise which characterized such films as The Tenant and Frantic, this elliptical tale is crammed with intriguing symbols (count the use of "9" throughout) and characters whose motivations only become clear as the layers of the story begin to peel off during the final half hour. The horrific set pieces are as grimly amusing as they are creepy, with the fate of wheelchair-bound baroness Barbara Jefford a particular standout. The flawless, breathtaking cinematography by current wunderkind Darius Khondji and Depp's amusing, compelling lead performance, a noticeable step up from Sleepy Hollow and The Astronaut's Wife, are all strong assets, but the real coup is easily Wojciech Kilar's beautiful score, one of the finest composed for a horror film in this or any other decade. Fans Artisan and Vision's fully loaded DVDs make for quite a bewitching experience even apart from the film, with beautiful menu designs replicating the woodcut illustrations and passing smoothly from one feature to the next. The discs include the standard first theatrical trailer as well as the more widely seen, ineffectual heavy metal promos which turned up after the release date was pushed back several months. An interesting storyboard comparison and a much less interesting promotional featurette are also included, but the highlight is undeniably the feature length commentary by Polanski himself, his first for DVD. While newcomers may find his accent difficult at first, he offers some nice observations about the casting, special effects, and adaptation process without going very deeply into the secrets of the film itself. He makes for a good tour guide, and his apologies at the end ("I hope I haven't been too boring") are quite unnecessary. Despite his unfortunate legal troubles with Artisan over this film's financing, he will hopefully continue to be with us for decades to come and create even more cinematic gems, as underrated as they may often be.
Nobody would ever say that pregnancy is all fun and games, but few expectant mothers have ever gone through anything as horrific as poor Rosemary Woodhouse, the protagonist of Ira Levin's novel, Rosemary's Baby. This tale of occult terror lurking beneath the tranquil brownstones of New York became a nationwide bestseller during the theological turmoil of the '60s, and amazingly enough, Hollywood managed to bring it to the screen without a hitch. For his first American film, Roman Polanski wisely stuck closely to the book, only tweaking the ending to make it even more effective. The result is an eerie and deeply upsetting film, all the more remarkable for its restraint (one dream sequence notwithstanding), a particularly remarkable achievement considering it was produced by the king of cinematic sideshows, William "The Tingler" Castle. They just don't come any better than this. Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and her struggling actor husband, Guy (John Cassavetes), settle comfortably into their new apartment and become friends with an elderly couple, Roman and Minnie Castevet (Sidney Blackmer and Ruth Gordon). A drug-addled young woman named Terry (Hammer starlet Victoria Vetri, using the pseudonym Angela Dorian) turns up dead shortly after meeting Rosemary in the laundry room, and Minnie gives Rosemary a strange smelling locket which had belong to the deceased. Rosemary becomes pregnant after a hallucinatory, alcohol-induced evening of marital rape, and the Castevets insist she go to renowned obstetrician Dr. Abe Saperstein (Ralph Bellamy). However, the herbal medications don't seem to agree with Rosemary, who experiences constant, tortuous pain and begins to doubt those around her. Rosemary's friend, Hutch (Maurice Evans), falls into a coma after making an alarming discovery and leaves Rosemary a book called All of Them Witches. Using her Scrabble game, Rosemary makes a sinister discovery about her neighbors and suspects that the devil's work may be responsible. Or is it all in her mind?
The various spooky coincidences sprang up around Rosemary's Baby as much as other renowned horror hits like The Exorcist and The Omen, from the notorious murder of Polanski's wife, Sharon Tate (who makes a fleeting cameo here), at the hands of Charles Manson's followers, to the assassination of John Lennon outside the Dakota building where this was filmed. The founder of The Church of Satan, Anton LeVay, began his bizarre Hollywood association here (see also The Devil's Rain and The Car) by providing input and turning in a brief, memorable appearance as Old Scratch himself. Farrow's porcelain-thin portrayal is pitch perfect throughout, and it's no wonder she became an immediate star; however, the supporting cast is equally praiseworthy, with Gordon's Oscar-winning performance leading a pack of veteran actors clearly having the time of their lives. Polanski's regular composer, the late Krzysztof Komeda, excels with a chilling, unforgettable score highlighted by Farrow's famous lullaby theme, while producer Castle (watch for him stepping into a phone booth) had the wisdom to stand back and let Roman work his magic. For a real mindbender, watch this back to back with Polanski's later European variation on the same theme, The Tenant.
For many years the video transfers of Rosemary's Baby were a hideous bunch, brutally cropped and almost completely faded. A glossy restored version finally turned up on laserdisc from Paramount in the late '90s, and the DVD looks very similar, albeit with a little more sharpness from anamorphic resolution. The colours are very natural and vibrant, from the pastel pink of the opening titles to the dizzying colours during the mod party scene. The extra detail also uncovers some quirky little discoveries, such as the visible face of Farrow's nude body double during the impregnation scene. The sound is the original glorious mono audio track, with excellent range and fidelity to the theatrical source. For some reason a trailer for this film has failed to surface, but the disc does include two featurettes. The first, "Mia and Roman," is a fascinating little 1968 film which goes behind the scenes for an educational look at the novel-to-film process. The footage of Polanski directing his cast is practically worth the price tag alone. Also included is a newly produced featurette containing on-camera interviews with Polanski, Paramount exec Robert Evans, and production designer Richard Sylbert, all of whom have fond memories of this high point from their careers. They cover all of the bases, from the occult incidents behind the camera to Castle's involvement to the initial casting doubts regarding Farrow and her own personal tragedy during filming. A basic part of any horror film library.
Despite its protracted running time, Tess amazingly contains no narrative fat and represents an impassioned labor of love from everyone involved. In her starmaking role, Kinski is magnificent to behold, thanks in no small part to the ravishing Oscar-winning cinematography. The English countryside has never looked more astonishing, with each scene as perfectly composed as a Corot painting and filled with fascinating visual details. Also noteworthy is Philippe Sarde's delicate score, which made him an internationally recognized name and benefits from the skilled conducting of Carlo Savina (Lisa and the Devil).
Though Tess was enthusiastically received upon its theatrical release in the US, it became surprisingly obscure during its tenure on cable and home video. However, it has been held in much higher esteem overseas, where full frame laserdiscs have remained constantly in circulation in Japan. A welcome letterboxed release finally appeared on Region 2 Japanese DVD and finally preserves the necessary original scope dimensions of the film. The surround audio tracks are fairly subdued, with a few ambient sound effects and Sarde's music providing most of the activity. The widescreen image is slightly raised above center to make room for the optional Japanese subtitles. A better (though not perfect) anamorphic transfer subsequently appeared in the U.S. from Sony; some digital noise appears here and there along with some shimmering, and the print shows its share of defects. Still, it beats VHS and will do until an HD edition comes down the pike. The 72-minute documentary is sliced up into various segments with all of the principals talking about the film, its source novel, and Polanski in general. Incidentally, all extant video versions are "cut" in that they omit the overture and intermission music, which explains the inflated running times reported from the premiere screenings.
Severin (UK R0 PAL), Fox (Italy R2 PAL) / WS (2.35:1) (16:9)
American actress Rome stars as naïve Nancy, an often naked tourist in Italy who falls prey one night to a carload of would-be rapists who inflict far more damage on themselves than their intended victim. Her escape leads to a remote seaside villa, where her mere presence sets off a chain of comedic sexual escapades involving lecherous ex-pimp Alex (Mastroianni) and a colourful cast of supporting characters, including an unbilled, moustachioed Polanski as the gun-toting Mosquito.
and Beethoven, keeping things classy and bouncy even in the erratic final act, which finally justifies the title with its concluding lines of shouted dialogue.
from the Italian negative; audio options include a gimmicky 5.1 remix and original mono presentation of the Italian soundtrack, or the original English language version with obligatory (but tiny) Italian subtitles. Extras include a snappily-edited Italian trailer and a new Italian-language interview with Rome, whose plastic cheeks look rather unearthly, to put it charitably.
Color, 1976, 125m. / Directed by Roman Polanski / Starring Roman Polanski, Isabelle Adjani
Paramount (US R1 NTSC) / WS (1.85:1) (16:9)
Polanski assumes the lead role of perpetually nervous Trelkovsky, a French citizen originally from Poland who rents a room in a gothic apartment building populated by a testy concierge (Shelly Winters), cantankerous landlord Monsiuer Zy (Melvyn Douglas), and a variety of other eccentrics. The previous tenant, Simone Choule, committed suicide by leaping from the balcony and suffering for days in the hospital, where Trelkovsky meets Simone's friend, Stella (Adjani), with whom he shares a drink and a memorable afternoon at the movies. As the neighbors become increasingly hostile to Trelkovsky by complaining about noise and bullying him for not signing a petition, the man's grip on reality begins to slip. Even worse, these bizarre neighbors (who often spend hours at night standing motionless in the communal toilet) may be conspiring to drive Trelkovsky to follow in Simone's doomed footsteps.
A rich and multi-layered film, The Tenant is as pure a distillation of Polanski's technique as one could hope for. The repetition of themes and images can cause chills after countless viewings, though often the shudders overlap with skillfully handled black comedy. (Often it's difficult to tell the difference between the two.) The film remains even more relevant now in its study of urbanized human beings as commodities unable to relate to each other on any meaningful level; Trelkovsky and Stella's nervous dates include a few furtive gropes but end with cold farewells or both parties in a drunken stupor. In this world, everyone is identified solely by their outward appearances and how well they conform to expectations; you are the coffee you drink, you are the cigarettes you smoke. The enigmatic Simone Choule is identified as a writer on Egyptology, and indeed her apartment for Trelkovsky becomes a smothering tomb filled with remnants of the dead: make-up, a sole black dress, with the bathroom across the way adorned with heiroglyphics. Choule herself in the hospital is only seen mummified in tight bandages, inarticulate and screaming in horror. This utter disconnect is reinforced by her grieving friend, Georges (Jeunut and Caro regular Rufus), whose raw declaration of love on a postcard of King Tut turns out to be something else entirely. In a world like this it's small wonder an outsider would be driven mad, and even a pure soul like Stella winds up wounded in this storm of insanity.
As eerie and thematically bewitching as The Tenant is, the film is boosted further by highly inventive casting. Adjani is wonderful as always, while Americans Winters, Douglas, and a chilling Jo Van Fleet (as the nasty Madame Dioz) all perform their supporting parts with expert aplomb. Opening with a startling Louma crane credits shot that probably influenced Dario Argento's Tenebrae, cinematographer Sven Nykvist (best known for his work on Ingmar Bergman films) performs some of his finest work; there's never a wasted bit of screen space for the entire running time. The film also marked the first of three collaborations between Polanski and composer Philippe Sarde (Tess, Pirates), a fruitful union destined to end badly. Be warned, the eerie glass harmonica main theme will stick in your mind long afterward.
Color, 1971, 140 mins.
Directed by Roman Polanski / Starring Jon Finch, Francesca Annis, Martin Shaw, Nicholas Selby
Sony (US R1 NTSC) (MSRP $29.98) / WS (2.35:1) (16:9)
hands of the Manson family. Not surprisingly, an already grim and disturbing play was turned into a hellish nightmare on film, reeking of corruption, greed, and needless bloodshed. Fortunately it's also one of the director's most brilliant films. Experimenting with scope photography for only the second time, he paints an unforgettable portrait of medieval Scotland as a damp, brooding place in which man's nobler instincts are invariably forced to confront a recurring cycle of evil brought on by politics and financial gain. Even the Christian institution of marriage is portrayed as a breeding ground for insanity and death, as ambitious battle hero Macbeth (Jon Finch) and his wife (Francesca Annis) arrange the gruesome assassination of King Duncan (Nicholas Selby) to speed the young lord's ascent to the throne. Of course, one murder quickly leads to another as Macbeth's reign of terror drags him into paranoia and madness. Spurred on by the prophecy of three witches who foretell his rising power and ultimate downfall, Macbeth struggles to maintain his lofty position while those around him plot a violent revolt.
who perfectly fit the period setting. The financing by Hugh Hefner's Playboy company dictated the injection of nudity and bloody violence, but Polanski turned the financier's expectations around by presenting human flesh as a matter of fact, non-exploitative sight, whether it's the undraped and unappealing coven of witches or Lady Macbeth's legendary nude sleepwalking scene. The level of violence was also astounding for the time and remains quite strong, particularly Duncan's murder and the stunning final death scene (which will remain vague here for the uninitiated). Several other British-based films from '71 also pushed the boundaries of sex and violence (most notably Straw Dogs, The Devils, and A Clockwork Orange), making for one of the more unusual years of big studio entertainment, but Macbeth was also remarkably visionary for its time. Watergate broke the following year, making Polanski's depicition of politics as a seemingly endless chain of cover ups and backstabbing more relevant than ever. Of course, its continued application to the political world today hardly requires any explanation at all.
For a follow up to his internationally acclaimed horror-art classic Repulsion, director Roman Polanski decided to go for a lighter tone... but not by much. Rarely seen and virtually ignored since its release, Cul-de-sac is a blackly amusing comedy of manners mixed with the traditions of hostage crime dramas, all filtered through the quirky sensibilities of Polanski and co-scenarist Gerard Brach. Blessed with one of his best casts and a sterling crew behind the camera, this may not be a film for all tastes (what Polanski film is?), but lovers of the offbeat will cherish this poisonous little treat. Two robbers on the run after a botched job, Richard (Lionel Stander) and the mortally wounded Albert (Jack MacGowran), finally come to a halt along the English coast. They take refuge in a decaying castle inhabited by a submissive Englishman, George (Donald Pleasence), and his authoritative and alluring French wife, Teresa (Françoise Dorléac). However, our innocent couple doesn't go along with the standard thriller pattern of playing the helpless victims, and soon matters escalate strangely and hilarious out of hand.
Color, 1988, 120m.
Directed by Roman Polanski / Starring Harrison Ford, Emmanuelle Seigner, Betty Buckley
Warner (US R1 NTSC), Warner (UK R2 PAL) / WS (1.85:1) (16:9) / DD2.0
Color, 1999, 133m.
Directed by Roman Polanski / Starring Johnny Depp, Frank Langella, Lena Olin, Emmanuelle Seigner
Artisan (US R1 NTSC), Vision (UK R2 PAL) / WS (2.35:1) (16:9) / DD5.1
Roman Polanski's misleadingly marketed The Ninth Gate was sold as a fiery, action-filled demonic epic for the goth crowd, and audiences and critics both reacted with confusion. The hostility which greeted the film, particularly its final shot which - horror of horrors - actually requires the viewer to think, is 
especially disheartening considering the indifferent shrugs which greeted the wretched End of Days and Stigmata. Hopefully as time passes, expectations surrounding this film have changed somewhat and viewers can finally appreciate The Ninth Gate for what it actually is, an eccentric and intelligent black comedy laced with hearty gothic horror. Adapted from Arturo Perez-Reverte's El Club Dumas, the plot feels on the surface like a glossy literary twist on Alan Parker's Angel Heart. Likeable but unscrupulous "book detective" Dean Corso (Johnny Depp) is hired by the elegant, slimy Boris Balkan (Frank Langella) to track down two of the three existing copies of The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of the Shadows, 
a text co-written by Lucifer himself in 1666. Balkan possesses the third copy and believes that only one of the three is genuine. Hopping from New York (or at least a CGI replica of it) to Portugal to Paris, Corso encounters a number of eccentric personalities including a wine-sipping book collector (warmly played by Jess Franco regular Jack Taylor!) and a beguiling, obviously supernatural nymphet (Polanski's wife, Emmanuelle Seigner), who's prone to popping up in odd places with some very funny reading material.
of European horror in particular will have fun comparing this film to some of its similar cinematic predecessors. Dario Argento's Inferno, also concerned with unholy texts, houses of the damned, and creepy young girls popping up out of nowhere, makes for a good point of comparison, as does the Polish masterpiece The Saragossa Manuscript. The latter film revolves around a series of interlocking narratives sprung from a demonic manuscript, and Polanski amusingly quotes directly from it during the effective, beautiful, and thankfully ambiguous final scene. Oddly enough, all three films are based on literary sources, some more loosely than others...
Color, 1968, 136m.
Directed by Roman Polanski / Starring Mia Farrow, John Cassavetes, Ruth Gordon, Ralph Bellamy
Paramount (US R1 NTSC, UK R2 PAL) / WS (1.85:1) (16:9)
Color, 1979, 170m.
Directed by Roman Polanski / Starring Nastassja Kinski, Peter Firth
Sony (US R1 NTSC) / WS (2.35:1) (16:9), Culture (Japan R2 NTSC) / WS (2.35:1) / DD2.0
A radical change of pace following the psychological holocausts of The Tenant and Macbeth, this was Polanski's surprising first project after his flight from the United States due to statutory rape charges. On the surface, this pastoral Thomas Hardy novel seems a bizarre choice, but its themes of sexual power struggles and manipulation eventually consumed such later Polanski films as Bitter Moon and Death and the Maiden. Informed that he is descended from a noble family line called the D'Urbervilles, a simple farmer named Durbeyfield (John Collins) decides to investigate his roots with the aid of his good hearted daughter, Tess (Nastassja Kinski), who pays a visit to a nearby family bearing that name. The handsome D'Urberville son, Alec (Leigh Lawson), seduces Tess and leaves her abandoned with child. As it turns out, Alec and his family had bought the D'Urberville title and are no relation at all. Tess returns home and marries Angel Clare (Peter Firth), a seemingly gentle man who finds himself unable to cope with Tess' less than illustrious past. In typical Hardy fashion, tragedy and surprising twists of fate soon follow.
