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10
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In
the early 1970s actor Robert Quarry secured his
place among the B-movie greats with a series of
roles in low-budget horror films distributed by
American International Pictures, most notably
the highly successful Count
Yorga, Vampire and its sequel, The
Return Of Count Yorga. With his authoritative
voice, penetrating gaze and commanding screen
presence, Quarry was perfectly cast as the bloodsucking
Bulgarian nobleman preying upon 'modern day' Californians.
He certainly gave Christopher Lee a run for his
money in the Fang and Fury department, never overplaying
a role which could've easily devolved into hammery.
Unfortunately, during this time Quarry was locked
into an AIP contract which forbad him from appearing
in any horror film not distributed by the company.
He'd again grace the screen in the voodoo thriller
Sugar Hill and co-star
with Vincent Price in Dr.
Phibes Rises Again!, but many contemporary
opportunities were no doubt lost. Luckily for
us cult movie fans, Fred Olen Ray and the folks
at Retromedia have rescued an interesting Quarry
film from this period, one believed practically
lost in the ether: The Deathmaster.
Not only is the new DVD a splendid showcase for
the film, but also a nice tribute to Quarry himself.
Counterculture hippies and
vampires? Some of y'all might be rolling your
eyes at the thought — especially those who didn't
grow up during that time — but it certainly works
better here than say, hippies and Star Trek.
(Yea, brother!) Positing the Master Vampire as
a sort of Charles Manson-like guru figure is an
interesting twist, one blending a literary horror
of the 19th Century (Count Dracula) with an all-too
literal horror of the 20th (the Tate-LaBianca
Murders
and the madness at Spahn Ranch). Quarry stars
as Khorda, a mysterious philosopher who appears
one night to a commune of disaffected young people
living together in a California beach mansion.
Once Khorda easily assumes control over the group,
they'll soon be dying together. Khorda
convinces the kids to purify themselves by giving
up unhealthy foods, liquor and drugs. To them
the purging heralds a new path to enlightenment;
to the vampire it's a way of cleansing their blood
for better tasting refreshments. But one of the
hippies, Pico (Bill Ewing), rebels when he suspects
Khorda isn't on the up and up. (That one of the
vampirized commune chicks tries to put the bite
on him is a dead giveaway.) He's barely able to
escape the mansion with his life, forced to leave
behind his girlfriend Rona (the shapely Brenda
Dickson) when she's captured by Khorda's mute,
West Indian servant Barbado (LeSesne Hilton).
Enlisting over-the-hill hippy Pops (familiar character
actor John Fiedler) to help him, Pico returns
to the house to confront Khorda and rescue her.
Stupidly they do this at night, when the vampire's
influence is at full sway, without so much as
a crucifix or stake between them. And with the
movie being from the early '70s, you can pretty
much expect a downer of an ending...
The Deathmaster
is quite the time capsule. Doubtless some folks
will get a good laugh from the 'heavy,' 'far out'
dialog, not to mention the film's bellbottoms-and-poet-shirt
fashion sense. (Interestingly enough, Rona's midriff-baring
outfit wouldn't look at all out of place on a
teenage girl today. Pico's stupid-looking 'Turok'
hairstyle will definitely prove amusing, though
Quarry states in the disc's audio commentary that
it's actually the guy's real hair!) I must confess
it's rather odd seeing the bald, bespectacled
Fiedler playing a counterculture type; a poncho
vest and love beads do not a hippy make.
(An earring and a beard might've helped.) The
music certainly dates the picture, especially
a couple of sappy folk songs which, it must be
said, are a stake in the heart to any scene they're
used with. Virtually plotless, the movie takes
a 'chuck it in the blender' approach by either
incorporating or referencing most of the drive-in
conventions of the day. (Adding a biker from a
motorcycle gang to the mix, plus even a smidgen
of 'gung fu' via a terribly inept fight scene
early on. In the commentary track, Fred Olen Ray
muses that the only thing the film lacks is stock
car racing.) Deathmaster
is an indie film with a very small budget, and
it shows. While Ray Danton's workmanlike direction
offers enough flourishes to elevate it above the
typical '70s exploitationer, it's fairly obvious
he's merely copying Bob Kelljan's style from the
Yorga flicks.
Basically, without Quarry's presence The
Deathmaster wouldn't merit a DVD release.
He's both the reason for the film's existence
(as executive producer) and why it actually works
as a horror movie. Charismatic as the guru/shaman
figure, his Khorda is every bit the chilling undead
bloodsucker when it's time to slip on the ol'
fangs and laugh sadistically. In fact, the film
could easily be viewed as an unofficial sequel
to the Yorga flicks — who's to say the Count didn't
just grow a goatee and change his name? Regardless
of what they call themselves, Quarry's vampires
are always fun to watch. As a 'monster kid' of
the '70s, whenever I think of the Undead, it isn't
just Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee who instantly
spring to mind, but Robert Quarry, too.
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It's
astonishing how good the widescreen (1.85:1) transfer
looks considering Deathmaster's
age and obscurity. Colors are vivid and there's
next to no print damage at all. The disc's aural
quality, while robust, is less impressive. Background
hiss pervades the main audio track throughout, but
it's only truly noticeable in quiet scenes — never
really distracting. Dialog and music are always
clearly discernible.
There are plenty of juicy extras
on hand. The original theatrical trailer — in surprisingly
good shape — is included, along with trailers for
Count Yorga, Vampire
and Sugar HIll, plus
a pair of radio spots each for the latter two films.
(The Yorga and Sugar
Hill trailers/radio ads are rather ragged
but nice to have regardless.)
No less than 4 separate image galleries are offered.
One showcases stills from the film; another's comprised
of behind-the-scenes photos taken during production.
The third gallery, Robert Quarry Portraits,
is a nice collection of promotional headshots of
the actor spanning his long career. The fourth gallery
presents stills from movies and stage productions
Quarry appeared in, along with a few party snaps
taken at nightclubs. (The Retromedia folks are obvious
fans.) There are even a couple of vintage TV commercials
on the disc: a cola ad featuring John Fiedler with
the Frankenstein Monster, and a young Robert Quarry
buying a pack of Lucky Strikes from a cigarette
machine.
By far the best of the extras
is the full-length audio commentary featuring Quarry
and his friend, director Fred Olen Ray. It's a fun,
breezy conversation, packed with amusing stories
about not only The Deathmaster
but the Yorga films and AIP in general. Quarry (nearly
80 now) has a good memory for detail; Ray does a
fine job of steering the discussion to cover a diverse
array of related topics. I didn't hear any ice cubes
clinking, but the track sounds exactly as if the
two gents are kicking back with a cocktail or two,
enjoying the film and chatting about it. It's well
worth your time and the definite highlight of the
disc.
10/17/02 |
| UPDATE
This DVD went OOP in 2007. On January 15, 2008 Retromedia
will reissue Deathmaster
as part of the Robert Quarry
Collection double feature disc. |
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