House of Death (aka Death Screams) Badly Butchered in "Restored" Streaming Versions

House of Death (1982, aka Death Screams) is an obscure slasher films from the 1980s, and thus many people might not notice if a distributor butchers it. But I own eight different copies of the film: a Beta cassette, a DVD, and six MP4 files.

That House of Death has never enjoyed a digital restoration released on blu-ray is not entirely logical, because many horror films that are both worse and more obscure have been released on blu-ray.

I was initially pleased to see the film's version on Tubi, because its visual quality is improved in some ways. Colors are more vibrant, and images are sharper than most (but not all) versions found YouTube, which seem to be transfers from old video cassettes (VHS, I assume). In terms of color and resolution, the Tubi version is superior even to my DVD version (which also seems taken from an old video cassette).

But the problems with the Tubi version are twofold. (I call it the Tubi version, but I've found an identical version on YouTube, so I doubt that Tubi is responsible for the film's "restoration".)

First, the Tubi version employs what I call "double cropping." This is when a distributor takes a widescreen film whose sides have been cropped to create a full screen (for old TV sets), then crops this full screen's top and bottom to create a new widescreen.

Thus, a widescreen film has been cropped twice, leaving little of the original image. Enough to be watchable, but the director's original compositions are gone. Wide shots become medium shots, medium shots become closeups, closeups become extreme closeups.

Observe the two below images from House of Death. The top image is a video cassette's full screen image (the original widescreen already cropped at the sides.) The second image (taken from Tubi) has cropped the image for a second time, this time its top and bottom, to create a new widescreen. The film's original widescreen has now been cropped on all four sides.

 

 

You'll notice the Tubi version's improved colors and resolution. I assume the restoration was done on a version found on an old video cassette. The original widescreen version (probably 35mm film stock) is probably lost.

But that's no excuse for the double cropping. If only a full screen version remains, let's watch House of Death in full screen. Cropping additional material to create a new widescreen only makes things worse.

I suppose distributors think the public wants widescreen and won't realize they're watching a badly butchered version rather than the original image.

But Tubi's version of House of Death has additional problems. It's missing two key sequences.

IMDB lists House of Death with a running time of 1.28 (an hour and 28 minutes). Tubi's version runs at 1.28.06. My MP4 versions range from 1.25.30 to 1.31.33. Clearly, House of Death has suffered many distributors and re-edits.

Here are the sequences missing in Tubi's version, which appear on my Beta tape and the 1.31.33 MP4 version on YouTube:

1. The scene wherein Romana sneaks into the coach's house is longer (and includes a topless shot of actress Jennifer Chase). That this scene is excised from the 1.28 versions is obvious from the crudely abrupt cut from the bathroom to the bedroom, the characters' whole demeanors having changed. Something had obviously occurred between them, but what? In the longer version, we see that the coach rebuffed Romona's advances, and tossed her into the shower to "cool off."

2. In the penultimate scene, when the coach attacks Lily with a machete, there is a brief flashback that depicts the coach as a young boy in the bordello in which his mother worked. This flashback explains why he hates and kills "slutty" women (and their men). This flashback is missing entirely from the shorter 1.28 versions.

In the final scene (in both long and short versions) Sandy asks "Why?" She and everyone else is baffled as to why the coach went on a murder spree. Viewers of the shorter version are equally baffled. But those of us lucky to have seen the longer version, know the answer.

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For more information on composition and editing in horror films, see Horror Film Aesthetics: Creating the Visual Language of Fear. This blog represents a continuing discussion of my views on horror, picking up from where the book left off.

Can We Please Lose the Overhead Drone Shot?

It's become a cliché. The overhead drone shot of a car driving along a highway or through a forest. Despite some minor variations, I've seen these shots way too often. They're pointless apart from looking pretty, because they're rarely aesthetically motivated. As an establishing shot, they have become banal and, well, cliché.

 

 

As a cliché, the drone shot of the driving car rivals the fruit cart. As described in Roger Ebert's The Little Book of Hollywood Clichés, whenever a film has a chase scene, and you cut to a fruit cart, you just know a speeding vehicle will collide with that cart.

Why are filmmakers so in love with overhead drone shots? I have a theory.

Camera drones are a relatively recent consumer technology. Prior to them, overhead shots required expensive cranes or helicopters, operated by highly paid (often unionized) workers. Thus, overhead shots were both rare and impressive. In the 1980s, SCTV even had a running gag about TV personality Johnny LaRue (John Candy) incessantly badgering the station owner for a crane with which to wow his audience. Crane shots were big league.

And so when drones became available to ordinary folk, filmmakers jumped at the chance to showcase their new toy. They used and overused drones, much like filmmakers of the late 1960s/early 1970s overused their newly affordable zoom lenses.

Because they used to be expensive, filmmakers think that an overhead shot will make their films look slick and professional and expensive.

In Horror Film Aesthetics, I observed that in They (2002), the camera looks directly down upon (rather than from an angle at) city buildings. Aesthetically, seeing building roofs and city streets passing below us creates (1) an emotionally unsettling geometric pattern, because an ordinary city suddenly looked "alien" to us, and (2) creates a sense of some evil looming overhead.

 

 

But in 2002, such shots were fresh, rare, and therefore emotionally jarring. But as with Japanese ghosts crawling along the floor with their faces obscured, the emotional impact of overhead drone shots have lost their punch as audiences become jaded through repeated exposure.

I also love the moving overhead shot of bridges to New Jersey in Lost Souls. In the context of the story, with the brooding clouds and sun breaking over the skyline (I wonder how much color correction was done in post?), the cinematography creates a sense of impending Apocalypse.

And again, because of its expense, that kind of shot was rarely seen. (Lost Souls was released in 2000, but shot in 1997, so I'm assuming the shot was created with a helicopter.)

At this point, overhead drone shots are so commonplace, they no longer impress. Audience know that drone shots aren't expensive. Plus, so many crappy low-budget films open with overhead drone shots, I groan when I see them, expecting the worst. Another poor filmmaker who hopes to hide his poor story and actors with technical wizardry.

One "cool shot" cannot compensate for a poor story, mediocre acting, and sloppy production values in the overall film. Actually, it can have the opposite effect. If the film is mostly bad, then one great element (a beautiful shot, a classic song, a single fine actor) can create a contrast, highlighting how awful is the rest of the film.

When computer video editing software became widespread some 20 years ago. I'd watch low-budget, independent horror films with amazing opening credits that raised my hopes and expectations. And then followed a really bad film, like something a group of amateurs had shot with a camcorder.

Amazing opening credits only makes a bad film look worse. The same can be said of drone shots.

Drone shots, like all technical aspects in a film, should be aesthetically motivated. Which means they should support the film's story, characters, or themes.

And sometimes the old ways are best. An establishing shot doesn't have to be from the sky. Unless there's some point to an overhead shot, a ground level shot will do just a nicely. Focus on telling a good story with a talented cast; not on wowing us with your new toy.

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For more information on framing and cinematography in horror films, see Horror Film Aesthetics: Creating the Visual Language of Fear. This blog represents a continuing discussion of my views on horror, picking up from where the book left off.