The Ghost/Dead Eyes of London
By Chris Hyde
June 1, 2004
Retromedia unearths a pair of ghastly European horror films from the fabulous '60s.
In the realm of the DVD, some companies strive to reissue the films of the past only in pristine new transfers while others tend to be satisfied with getting films out into the marketplace in a lesser form that at least allows the public a chance to see lost classics. Both approaches have their merit, but there’s no question that at times the mere ability to see a movie trumps the quality of its presentation. Retromedia’s releases in the past have tended to favor this sort of style, and while at times their product has been a bit uneven overall, with their newest double feature the philosophy has given fans a wonderful opportunity to view some valuable material.
The horror film in Italy has a glorious history, with names like Bava and Argento having international reputations for their terror-filled careers. The heyday for this kind of work was the '60s and '70s, with many filmmakers trying their hand at scaring the public. Lesser known stateside than these people who followed in his footsteps is the father of the Italian horror film, Riccardo Freda, an Egyptian-born Italian art critic turned celluloid helmsman. Beginning in the 1940s, Freda churned out work in a number of genres — peplum, costume drama, spy thrillers and the like — but while his own personal tendencies didn’t really mesh with the mores of horror, it’s the tales that he directed in this area that remain his most lasting legacy.
Primary among these are two films that he made with scream queen Barbara Steele in 1962-3, The Horrible Dr Hichcock and The Ghost, both of which were purportedly made at a rapid pace so that Freda could win a bet involving a thoroughbred. The latter of these has already been issued to DVD previously in a poor quality form, and in fact The Ghost has a pretty checkered history as far as North American releases go in just about every medium. Its appearance on this Retromedia disk is thus of great benefit to fans of horror, and though this isn’t the definitive release that rabid international fright mavens have long awaited, it goes a good way towards making one of the most interesting films of this great craftsman available to a wider audience.
The story of The Ghost is set in 1910 Scotland, and opens with a dreary séance wherein the wheelchair bound Dr John Hichcock (Leonard Elliot) attempts to commune with the spirit world. His paralysis is under experimental treatment by a young doctor named Charles Livingstone (Peter Baldwin), who also has his sights set on Margaret, the lovely wife of the doctor (played in excellent fashion by Barbara Steele). This pair acts in concert to knock off the old man and steal his fortune, and their plan comes off fine up until a major portion of the loot turns out to be missing. After this point events begin to turn a little strange, with the required creepy housekeeper (Harriet White Medin) hypnotically speaking in the dead man’s voice and all sorts of bump in the night occurrences taking place in the late Hichcock’s gloomy domicile. Eventually it seems that the missing cash and jewels might be hidden in the crypt of the dead man, and so the final reel of the movie weds greed with fear as the principals meet the consequences of the shady events they’ve set in motion.
While not without a dull moment or two, The Ghost stands up as a strong antecedent to the giallo that would later follow it in the Italian film industry. The movie is atmospheric in the extreme, with the production design for the sepulchral mansion simply oozing spookiness. Freda controls the action competently, and though it appears that his attention wanders a time or two, the gripping presence of Barbara Steele serves to give the film a gravity that it might otherwise fail to hold. Her supporting actors all carry their roles off fine as well, and with the interesting compositions lensed by the director the film manages to maintain interest all through its ghoulish length.
As previously stated, The Ghost has come out before in versions that were essentially washed out disasters, and additionally often had two early scenes in the incorrect order. Thankfully, Retromedia has remedied the latter problem in full and improved on the former substantially. The movie was originally shot in Technicolor, so its range of hue should really be quite substantial, but previous reissues have been devoid of much of the tinting that graced the original. Here the chromatic quality isn’t top-notch, but it’s a good sight better than we’ve previously beheld; though ideally we’d all like to see a brand new transfer of this film, this DVD at least indicates how vibrant the authentic document truly is. And as far as audio goes, this release additionally improves on things — it’s the dubbed English track with no sign of the original language audio, but it’s been spiffed up well enough that the sound is clear and substantive.
It’s surely the release of the Freda film that makes this DVD a worthwhile one; in fact, for the price of this disk if that was all we had gotten horror fans would still have much reason to rejoice. But there’s also a black and white German krimi included here that rounds out the package - a 1961 Alfred Vohrer directed version of an Edgar Wallace story called The Dark Eyes of London. This one involves a series of grisly murders in London and the inspector (Joachim Fuchsberger) who sets out to investigate them. Along the way he runs into all sorts of characters that might be responsible, among them a Braille reading woman (Karin Baal), an untrustworthy clerk (a youthful Klaus Kinski) and the indisputably Tor Johnsonesque Blind Jack Farrell (Ada Berber). Taking place on the fog shrouded streets of London, this grim whodunit moves along fairly briskly in the familiar territory that Wallace often mined, and as a companion piece to the DVD’s main attraction comports itself quite well indeed.
Extras for this double feature aren’t overwhelming, but included at least are some solid liner notes by Mirek Lipinski in addition to a handful of production stills and a nice reproduction of the pressbook from Dead Eyes of London. All in all, given the improved quality of the primary feature here and the great price for which this Eurohorror duet can be purchased, this one stands up as an important 2004 genre release. It’s also a hopeful sign that Retromedia seems bent on ratcheting up the attributes of their reissues; for while there’s never been much doubt about the taste with which their selections have been made, in the past they have at times lacked the attention to detail that tend to typify some other companies’ releases. If future product from this outfit strives to attain the quality hit here (or better yet, continues to ascend to even greater heights) devotees of the horror film will find themselves with yet more offerings on their plate.
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