Monsters and Madmen Boxset
Corridor of Blood, directed by Robert Day
The Haunted Strangler, directed by Robert Day
First Man Into Space, directed by Robert Day
The Atomic Submarine, directed by Spencer G. Bennet
Resonance DVD review, issue #54, 2007
It’s great when ghettoized features get respect, like these four chillers via production team Richard and Alex Gordon, restored to full visual and aural fidelity and padded with plenty of extras. While Criterion’s intentions are pure, not every title deserves the price tag such loving care demands -- First Man into Space and Atomic Submarine are nifty tall-tales for 1950s-era kiddies, but sometimes the bargain-basement approach better serves such fare, sandwiched between nine other nostalgic potboilers and priced for clearance at the local drugstore. Luckily, top-shelf Boris Karloff vehicles fill out the box, particularly the unrelentingly grim Corridor of Blood. Our hero portrays an 1840-era surgeon whose anesthesia research leaves him addicted to huffing painkilling fumes, forcing him into cahoots with graverobbers. Brutal depictions of primitive surgery and its horrific aftermath match any modern-day goreshow, and the desperate, drunken dancing of Karloff’s amoral cohorts is damnation in the flesh. FRED BELDIN
Corridor of Blood, directed by Robert Day
The Haunted Strangler, directed by Robert Day
First Man Into Space, directed by Robert Day
The Atomic Submarine, directed by Spencer G. Bennet
Resonance DVD review, issue #54, 2007
It’s great when ghettoized features get respect, like these four chillers via production team Richard and Alex Gordon, restored to full visual and aural fidelity and padded with plenty of extras. While Criterion’s intentions are pure, not every title deserves the price tag such loving care demands -- First Man into Space and Atomic Submarine are nifty tall-tales for 1950s-era kiddies, but sometimes the bargain-basement approach better serves such fare, sandwiched between nine other nostalgic potboilers and priced for clearance at the local drugstore. Luckily, top-shelf Boris Karloff vehicles fill out the box, particularly the unrelentingly grim Corridor of Blood. Our hero portrays an 1840-era surgeon whose anesthesia research leaves him addicted to huffing painkilling fumes, forcing him into cahoots with graverobbers. Brutal depictions of primitive surgery and its horrific aftermath match any modern-day goreshow, and the desperate, drunken dancing of Karloff’s amoral cohorts is damnation in the flesh. FRED BELDIN
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