THE PROWLER (1981)
Director: Joseph Zito
Blue Underground

After the thriving box office receipts of FRIDAY THE 13TH, movie producers quickly caught on, and a new breed of "slasher" films was born. The 1980-81 season was cluttered with endless stalk and slash efforts, and Joseph Zito's THE PROWLER was just one of these. Similar to the same year's MY BLOODY VALENTINE, the plot carries the common idea of a killer with a score to settle after a traumatic experience and years of torment. But if it weren't for the showcase gore from effects maestro Tom Savini, THE PROWLER would be a much less memorable, and most likely forgotten affair.

The plot commences with a pre-credit sequence set in 1945, right at the end of WWII. An unidentified soldier returns home and finds a "Dear John" letter left behind by his girlfriend Rosemary, who has found a new lover. At an Avalon Bay Graduation dance, Rosemary and her new beau choose a secluded place to make out, but they are violently pierced by a farmer's pitchfork. After the credits, we are brought to the early 80s, and after years of it being annulled, the Avalon Bay Graduation dance is about to take place for the first time since the grisly murders.

The star of THE PROWLER is Farley Granger, an actor who worked for Hitchcock and then when to Italy to make sex and horror films after his career waned. Here, Granger is the town sheriff who conveniently goes away before the big dance, leaving his young deputy in charge, and leaving little mystery for the audience. During the dance, the same nutty vet from 1945 is back, killing sexually romping dope-smoking students in various gruesome ways, like slitting their throats, impaling them with his pitchfork (one poor girl gets it in one of the best shower scenes in a horror film) and pricking them through the head with his trusty bayonet.

Savini's effects are indeed terrific and some of his best ever, but you have to sit through a lot of lazily paced hogwash to get to them. The film does have a few genuine frights, but the acting is for the most part poor (as the deputy, former soap opera star Christopher Goutman is incredibly dull and stone-faced) and most of it very predictable. Late Hollywood tough guy Laurence Tierney (RESEVIOUR DOGS) is cast as a nearby peeping tom in a wheelchair, put his part is brief, pointless, and void of any dialog.

Blue Underground has presented THE PROWLER on DVD uncut in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio with Anamorphic enhancement. The transfer is far better than the various video versions available in the past. Obviously the transfer was culled from the film's original elements, as the print is in near flawless conditions. The transfer is very well done, despite a couple of age flaws. Picture quality tends to lean toward a soft focus, and colors are not overly vibrant. Some grain is noticeable during a couple of the nighttime sequences. The minor flaws are attributed to the way the film was lensed and not to the DVD transfer. The mono audio sounds fine with clear dialogue and no noticeable shortcomings.

Included is an audio commentary with producer/director Joseph Zito and effects master Tom Savini. Both have a fun time reminiscing about making the film and seem very chummy (Zito and Savini later re-teamed for FRIDAY THE 13TH: THE FINAL CHAPTER). They don't take any of it too seriously and it seems they long for the days when they made horror films the old-fashioned way (no CGI). Zito claims the film costs $1 million to make, while Savini provides some good anecdotes about his makeup applications. On that note, also included is Savini's personal behind-the-scenes gore footage. This videotaped scenes runs just under 10 minutes, and it's a pretty cool glimpse at the shooting of the film's best effects sequences (you'll also find that Savini doubled as the gloved hands of the killer for most of the duration). Also included is the original theatrical trailer, and a poster & still gallery (that includes some of Savini's behind-the-scenes pics, as well as some authentic drive-in ads for THE PROWLER'S original run). (George R. Reis)

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