last house smash palace

Even within the horror-exploitation fan community, Last House on the Left (1972) is a legendarily divisive film. It's not the most explicit in the rape-revenge genre (I Spit on Your Grave takes things a bit further) and certainly not the most polished (Night Train Murders tells the same story with much more style), but it staked its claim early as the premiere example of the heights (or depths) of which '70s horror was capable of achieving. Director Wes Craven and producer Sean S. Cunningham, with a pair of adult features behind them, knew the genre's success would soon be measured on a sliding scale of smut and pushed the limits relentlessly.

On their way home from a concert, Mari and Phyllis are kidnapped by a quartet of escaped criminals who drag them to a supposedly isolated forest where they humiliate, rape and murder them. As fate would have it, the scene of the crime is only a short walk from Mari's home where her parents, having discovered the bodies and connected the dots, extract their pound of flesh (literally) from the perpetrators.

Although Craven defended himself from critics by citing the film's relationship to The Virgin Spring, Ingmar Bergman's 1960 medieval rape-revenge Academy Award winner, Last House is intentionally crude, brutal and disgusting. And, despite his later success as a mainstream filmmaker, Craven shouldn't have to apologize for generating that kind of response from an audience. But that doesn't make it any more enjoyable of a cinematic experience. The film's fumbled attempts at comic relief - and a folky music score by star David Hess - make the shock tactic seem even more offensive in context. Like it or not, Last House gets the credit for kickstarting a few careers and an entire genre, but isn't the sort of film that feels worth celebrating.

Arrow Video, however, is betting that the title essential enough to justify a new limited edition two-disc Blu-ray set that features three-cuts of the film (including the uncut version), stacks of recycled extras and some worthwhile new interviews, featurettes and commentaries (see the full list below). The transfer itself is a real keeper, retaining the grindhouse feel but with a real bump in clarity, while the highlight of the new material is the commentary track from podcasters Bill Ackerman and Amanda Reyes who give the film the historical perspective those involved with the shoot aren't able to provide.

Another missing piece of the nascent New Zealand film industry, Roger Donaldson's Smash Palace (1981) is a family drama that would feel quite comfortable on today's international festival circuit. Set amongst the sprawling wreckage of a salvage yard, Al and Jacqui's marriage is slowly crumbling apart just like the family business. A former race driver, Al's attention is fixated on reclaiming his old glory while his wife is nothing but background noise. Eventually, Jacqui seduces Al's best friend, causing a rift that puts their 7-year-old daughter in the middle of an ugly tug of war.

An acting showcase for everyone involved (Bruno Lawrence, Anna Maria Monticelli and especially young Greer Robson), Donaldson's film is a bit of a male wish-fulfillment fantasy as Al kidnaps his daughter, humiliates his wife's lover and still comes out on top in the end (although one assumes there is some sort of legal implications after the credits roll). Yet the script is surprisingly even-handed in casting blame on both parties, painting a realistic portrait a marriage's death by natural causes. A few thrilling POV racing sequences offer the only hint of Donaldson's future career as an action director (Species, The Getaway). Instead, his deft touch with performers - and the unique Kiwi setting - is what linger the longest.

Following up their release of Donaldson's first film - Sleeping Dogs - Arrow Video's Blu-ray presentation is pretty much flawless here with a commentary, documentary, trailer and collectible booklet as extras.