street fighter manitou

It took nearly two decades, but the Quentin Tarantino stamp of approval is now pretty much worthless. Not only is QT himself less relevant on the pop culture scene - throwing hissy fits about leaked scripts and threatening retirement - but his liberal championing of dozens of films, while an admirable mission to educate the masses, has oversaturated the market. The Street Fighter series was on his agenda early, even popping up in his screenplay for True Romance. And while the Sonny Chiba trilogy is more than worth kung fu fans attention, it never broke big like Jackie Chan's back catalog. Perhaps because Jackie never pulled off a man's testicles with his bare hands!

Built around a character who's more sociopath than anti-hero, The Street Fighter, Return of the Street Fighter and The Street Fighter's Last Revenge (all shot in 1974) have been essentially MIA on home video despite being released domestically by New Line Cinema as one of their earliest acquisitions. So Shout Factory's box set fills a gaping hole in most martial arts movie collections, finally presenting uncut versions of all three films by mixing multiple sources for a results that, while not perfect, looks miles better than we've ever had before.

The first film in the series introduces us to Tsurugi (Chiba), a ruthless assassin who combines various Japanese fighting styles with Chinese boxing to create his own deadly cocktail of skills. Directed by Shigerhiro Ozawa with a loose style that's miles away from the tight choreography of Bruce Lee's work, what we get is down-and-dirty brawl that's closer to Toei's yakuza films, punctuated with bits of sex and gore that make it more suitable for a grindhouse than a suburban multiplex. Little wonder it popped up on QT's radar.

The second film is a greedy follow-up constructed almost entirely of flashbacks, but Street Fighter's Revenge softens the edges a bit, sliding into Mission Impossible territory and turning Tsurugi into a freelance spy with a burgeoning set of morals to go with his muscles. Each entry looks about the same quality-wise, with new 2K scans standing apart from some of the darker, softer footage use to fill in the gaps. Extras include a new interview the Chiba and a conversation with filmmaker Jack Sholder (The Hidden) who worked for New Line cutting trailers at the time of the films' release. A collection of trailers and stills wrap up this package that's been a long time coming.

Let's get one thing straight, Graham Masterton's novel The Manitou, was ridiculous to begin with. It's story of a woman whose suspicious tumor turns out to be a 500-year-old Native American medicine man - Misquamacas if you're nasty - "reborn" on the back of her neck pushed the limits of believable horror fiction. Still, it was a fast-paced hoot and served as the author's transition from Penthouse editor to the next-best-thing to Stephen King.

William Girdler's film adaptation actually does a lot of things right. The cast is surprising strong, including Tony Curtis, Michael Ansara, Susan Strasberg, Stella Stevens and even a lunch-hour cameo from Burgess Meredith (seriously, he wanders off at the end of his scene and says "I've got to go...you people make yourself at home"). Most of the important beats from the novel are carried over verbatim, with Ansara in particular working overtime to suspend the audience's disbelief. With a handful of drive-in hits behind him (including Grizzly and Day of the Animals), Girdler seemed poised to seize the more mainstream opportunity in front of him. The camera work is smooth, the sets are professional and the score (by Lalo Schifrin) suitably grandiose. Even the effects that sell the "rebirth" scene are convincingly gooey (Misquamacas is played by a dwarf in an Indian costume...but that's creepier than it sounds).

What dooms The Manitou is its spiritually explosive finale as good and evil take turns trading laser beams at one another against a starfield screensaver. With Star Wars still riding high, Girdler's creative decision to give his ending a decidedly sci-fi looking bent just pushes things to far. But the goofy ride getting there is still worth watching, particularly for fans of obscure '70s horror. Girdler's tragic death in a helicopter accident a few months later ensured he'd never get a chance to learn from his mistakes.

Scream Factory's Blu-ray begins with a disclaimer stating the transfer was derived from the best source possible. But there's nothing to apologize for as the film looks terrific throughout and comes with a new slate of extras, including a audio commentary, interviews, trailers, TV spots, still gallery and sweet reversible cover art. Misquamacas would approve.