THE
LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET (1972)Director: Roger Watkins (aka Victor Janos)
Barrel Entertainment
THE
LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET (1972)Seven minutes in, THE LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET's Mission Statement is belted out, loud and clear. "I wanna make some films here, some really weird films." And boy, do they ever…
Plotwise, things unfold fairly straightforward and simple. Upon release from prison, minor-league pot peddler and all-around sleazebag Terry Hawkins assembles a troupe of misfits and lowlifes to help dole out vengeance to those they feel deserve it -- all the while filming their violent misadventures.
It may sound a bit bland on paper,
but watchin' it is a whole 'nother ballgame entirely. Resembling a strange meshing
of arthouse aesthetics with the hard-edged violence usually found in "roughies"
of the previous decade, the unnerving intensity of DEAD END STREET will undoubtedly
get under the skin of anyone fostered on the relative safeness of traditional
horror cinema. The proceedings could have easily ended up a stereotypical precursor
to the slasher outbreak of the 80's, but several elements combine to transform
this running sore of nihilism into something far greater than the sum of its
parts. With the disquieting marriage of its minimalist score and ambient sound
work to the fetishistic sequences of mask-wearing, bizarre pseudo-rituals, and
the potent climatic frenzy of sadism, segment after segment compound a relentlessly
bleak world view that won't be shaken off easily. Mostly an improvised production,
DEAD END STREET represents the type of work that simply can't be planned --
once in a lifetime, it just HAPPENS. Ask Tobe Hooper. 
Due to its general rarity and the lack of concrete info concerning its history, DEAD END STREET's reputation has festered to near legendary status over the years. Unseen by most, Barrel Entertainment have finally rectified the situation with this superlative double-disc release, which emerges as not only a tribute to a true one-of-a-kind grindhouse classic but a tribute to the fellow who brought it into this world to begin with -- writer/director/star Roger Watkins. For the longest time, nothing was known about the man who was credited on prints as both Victor Janos and Steven Morrison. Misinformation and supposition were easy to come by, but stone cold facts were few and far between. Until about two years ago, that is. Noticing the ridiculous prices the VHS prerecord was getting on eBay (over $100!), Roger's girlfriend Suzanne posted a message on a horror newsgroup inquiring about fans of the film. And the rest, as they say, is history. Interviews have been published, appearances have been made… Hell, Watkins even passed out drunk on my hotel room floor watching THE BRAINIAC. However, based on the incorrect data I'm STILL seeing around, it seems some of you weren't paying attention. So here's a quick refresher course -- you may want to take notes:
In
December, 1972, a young lad named Roger Watkins -- who had been associating
with the likes of Nicholas Ray, Otto Preminger and Freddie Francis, to name
a few -- decided (in a crystal meth haze) to make a no-budget horror flick titled
THE CUCKOO CLOCKS OF HELL. Knowing the only way to get himself noticed would
be to shock audiences out of their seats, he gathered his friends and set out
to do just that. Taking his initial inspiration from rumors of Manson family
snuff films being circulated, the idea later metamorphosed into the entity we
know today. Well, sorta. Watkin's original rough-cut of the film clocked in
an epic 175 minutes, but was later trimmed down to a more acceptable 115 minute
length in preparation for a showing at the Cannes Film Festival -- a screening
which never occurred. Thanks to a fired ex-cast member (who stills haunts the
film to this day), Roger suddenly found himself and his film ensnared in litigation
for a three-year duration. Fighting tooth and nail, the case was taken all the
way to the New York State Supreme Court, at which point the charges were cleared,
and the film was given the thumbs-up for distribution. Striking a deal with
a company named Warmflash Productions, everything seemed to finally be working
out. Until, of course, it was found out that they had chopped things down to
77 minutes, fabricated an entire credits reel, rearranged scenes, re-titled
it 
THE
FUNHOUSE and added a PC coda! (This version, the only one known to exist today,
was later re-released post-THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT under the more familiar
THE LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET moniker.) Disillusioned by the whole ordeal,
Watkins then began to work in the porno industry, at first writing films (for
such drive-in luminaries as Roberta Findlay) and eventually directing features
as Richard Mahler (not, as reported in other sources, Richard Mailer -- who
made Traci Lords' first film). He also dabbled in some documentary work, scriptwriting,
an acting gig on a NBC sitcom called THE DOCTORS, and two semi-mainstream features
-- a comedy called SPITTOON and a horror flick titled SHADOWS OF THE MIND. Got
all that? Good.
The
film's home video history is just as confused, since several variants exist
-- though ANY version is (was) hard to locate. Issued by Sun Video on Beta and
VHS in the States (and by Marquis in Canada), copies can be found as both THE
FUN HOUSE and THE LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET. To make matters worse, some
copies were intact while others suffered from a 91-second edit during the film's
most graphic setpiece -- with no way to differentiate by cover art! A longer
Venezuelan tape surfaced on the bootleg scene with promises of more gore and
nudity, but it turned out to be identical, footage-wise, just transferred at
a slower speed to accommodate the Spanish subtitles! And now comes Barrel's
version, which unquestionably DESTROYS all need for any other inferior release.
Originally filmed on 16mm and blown up to 35mm for distribution, this new transfer
(from an extremely rare theatrical print, the last film elements known to exist)
bares all the grainy earmarks of just such a birth. While dirt, scratches and
other blemishes do appear often enough to warrant mention, this edition also
boasts much sharper clarity and bolder colors than ever before, especially next
to the washed-out and dull Sun tape. This DVD also reveals a more carefully
composed film, adding a noticeable amount of picture information to the right,
left and top of the 1.33:1 framing when compared to the old VHS. The (entirely
post-dubbed) mono soundtrack is still a bit hissy with the occasional crackle
and pop, but it's honestly as good as can be expected. Overall, a nice transfer
and a remarkable improvement on previous versions. (It needs to be noted that
the print used for this disc was missing the aforementioned 91-second entrail-slingin'
sequence. For the sake of completeness it has been composited into the master
from a videotape source, and was color corrected and digitally stabilized as
much as possible. While it's a shame film materials couldn't have been found
for this scene, it does help illuminate the differences between this DVD and
previous releases.)
It may take 'em a while to get things released, but at least Barrel knows their market and doesn't skimp on the supplements. Before you even turn your player on you're treated to original cover art by comic legend / film-buff extraordinaire Steve Bissette. Also included with this deluxe package is a 36-page (!) booklet by Headpress editor David Kerekes, which details his personal obsession with the film and contains interviews with and reflections from several cast members.
Kickin' things off on the discs
themselves is a lively commentary track with director Watkins and Deep Reditor/old
hippie Chas. Balun. Though it's a cynical film, the pair stay good humored throughout
resulting in a fun listen. The problems of filming with zero money are addressed,
background info (and the real names) of the actors are covered, distribution
hassles are recounted, and the longer rough cut is discussed. Another audio
option is included for play over the film -- a 55-minute interview with the
director and actor Ken Fisher conducted for a New York radio station in 1973.
Sound quality is a bit rough, but it remains engaging throughout. Next up is
a real treat for fans -- close to 19 minutes of hitherto unseen footage culled
from a 16mm workprint reel that was found after combing through virtually every
film lab in New York. It (silently) showcases several bits exclusive to the
missing, longer rough-cut, fleshing out the intro and characters a bit. It's
an interesting peak at what could've been. We then get the alternate intro and
outro from THE FUN HOUSE release, sourced from videotape. It plays the same
as the current print, except with a replaced title card. Also sourced from VHS
is the original television spot circa 1979, something which I'm amazed still
existed ANYWHERE (provided by underground filmmaker Nathan Schiff of LONG ISLAND
CANNIBAL MASSACRE fame). It's rather reminiscent of the U.S. trailer for Argento's
SUSPIRIA, and according to Roger it's in fact a short, complete sequence from
his follow-up horror film SHADOWS OF THE MIND. Moving on, we have a 1975 
appearance
of Watkins and actor/author Paul Jensen on THE JOE FRANKLIN SHOW that runs just
under 10 minutes. Regrettably focusing more on Jensen's work as a writer than
anything else, THE CUCKOO CLOCKS OF HELL still gets some airtime. For you headbangers
there's a Jim Van Bebber directed music video from Necrophagia titled "They
Dwell Beneath," which claims to be inspired by the main presentation. I
don't see the resemblance, but to each their own. The final supplement on Disc
One is a nicely assembled stills collection that actually revolves around Roger
Watkins more than his films. Hammer fans, take note: included are several behind-the-scenes
photos from Roger's on-set visits to films like SCARS OF DRACULA and HORROR
OF FRANKENSTEIN.
With the first disc's extras grouped
to appeal to more casual viewers of the film, Disc Two presents a platter designed
specifically for the hardcore fans. First, we are treated to four pre-
DEAD
END STREET shorts, totaling almost an hour, presented with voiceover commentary
from the director. It's an interesting way to see the man honing his skills,
sometimes employing the same locations as the main attraction. Coming up next
is a 75-minute audio journal of 40 phone-calls the director recorded while the
film was in production. Very entertaining, this extra gives the listener a revealing
glimpse into the trials and tribulations of no-budget filmmaking - from organizing
shooting locations to talking actresses into nude scenes, not to mention the
occasional prank call. Rounding things up, as far as advertised supplements
go, is almost 28 minutes worth of amusingly candid footage from an aborted shot-on-video
documentary about a day in the life of Roger Watkins, filmed in 1988. Easter
egg hunters will be rewarded with some goofy goings-on from the commentary recording
session, along with a dinner gathering of Roger, Jim Van Bebber, Sherri Rickman,
David Szulkin and the guys from Barrel - drinking the night away while discussing
everything from Spike Lee's BAMBOOZLED to the merits of THE WILD BUNCH.
The bottom line? A must-see film
and a fantastic package from Barrel. Highly recommended. And Roger, you still
have my lighter…
( Bruce Holecheck)
For those interested in learning
more about the work of Roger Watkins, look for the following:
Issue #4 of Ultra Violent contains an 18-page interview with director
Roger Watkins.
http://www.uvmagazine.com
Issue #23 of David Kerekes' Headpress is dedicated to THE LAST HOUSE ON DEAD
END STREET.
http://www.headpress.com
The 15th Anniversary Issue of Chas Balun's Deep Red is now available!
http://www.rottencotton.com/deepred/
The DVD will be released by Barrel Entertainment on October 22, 2002.
http://www.barrel-entertainment.com