Director Larry Cohen’s indictment of American consumerism and corporate greed translated into a pretty silly, sci-fi horror satire back in 1985 that now celebrates its relegation to cult status with an ultra-high definition disc debut crammed with extras in The Stuff: Limited Edition (Arrow Video, rated PG-13, 2.39:1 and 1.78:1 aspect ratio, 126 minutes, $44.99).
This very strange, obviously budget-deficient B movie covers the discovery by a not-too-bright miner of a gooey white substance oozing from the ground of a quarry, which led to its development into America’s favorite dessert.
Called “The Stuff,” the highly addictive sweet and zero-calorie treat devastates the ice cream industry, and its leaders call upon a former FBI agent and current industrial saboteur, David “Moe” Rutherford (the distinguished Michael Moriarty, who must have owed the director a big favor), to find its recipe and then destroy the product.
Mo teams up with broke business entrepreneur Charles W. “Chocolate Chip Charlie” Hobbs (Garrett Morris), The Stuff advertising executive Nicole (Andrea Marcovicci), The Stuff-hating young boy Jason (Scott Bloom) and eventually retired ultra-right Army Col. Malcolm Grommett Spears (Paul Sorvino having too much fun in the role).
They must discover the treat’s true origins in a shocking, undulating, slow-moving revelation bound to mildly tickle the fancy of fans of “Slither,” “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” and “The Blob.”
What could and should have been a fairly clever and funny social commentary falls flat due to the cheap filmmaking decisions, stilted dialogue and really bad visual effects.
One scene, with acting icon Danny Aeillo (what did he do to deserve this?), finds him portraying a Food and Drug Administration executive terrorized by his Doberman pinscher, culminating in one of the more awkward deaths and amateurish effects sequences in B-grade film history.
Move on to watching a horrible green screen effect of Jason in a tanker getting filled with The Stuff or the various human heads exploding from being consumed by The Stuff, and the film would fit quite well on a late-night “Son of Svengoolie” episode.
However, maybe schlock was the point of Cohen’s cynical masterpiece, and any over analysis of the subtleties of the narrative admonishing also a junk food culture gets lost in all of the onscreen nonsense.
Worth noting for any of the more discerning pop culture cinephiles is a faux commercial in the film starring Abe Vigoda (“Barney Miller”) and Clara “Where’s the Beef?” Pellar that has her asking, “Where’s The Stuff?”
4K in action: Arrow tackles the Herculean task of bringing the film to the 4K format, creating a new transfer using a 4K, 16-bit scan of the original 35mm camera negative and then graded with high dynamic range enhancements.
The good news is viewers get plenty of colors popping, such as the pinks and purples of The Stuff’s packaging and a very vivid red carpet found in the product’s head marketer and distributor’s office.
However, the new clarity leads to further inspection of those cheesy special effects, and the movie still suffers from an abundance of grain that can sometimes really distract from any appreciation of the upgraded visuals.
Best extras: Arrow goes well above and beyond the call of duty in offering a very satisfying deconstruction of “The Stuff,” its legacy and the director through goodies mostly culled from the 2016 American Blu-ray release.
First though, and brand new, a nonstop optional conversational track with critics David Flint and Adrian Smith both offers an analysis of the film and its cast, less a deep dive into the production.
They cover audience reactions, meandering plot points, and the film’s representation as an example of an 1980s movie. The duo eventually focus on Cohen’s directing style and legacy, the anti-consumerism message of the film and its “chainsaw”-style editing.
A second commentary track, culled from the 2000 Anchor Bay DVD, presents a more typical forward though sporadic track with director Cohen. The well-spoken director breaks down information on scenes as he watches, and offers facts and exploration of visual effects, the casting, actor biographies, cutting down the length of the film, technical aspects on the shoot, and plenty of production and location details.
Next, viewers get a near hourlong retrospective on the film, exclusive to Arrow. It mainly focuses on interviews with a preachy Cohen (who calls himself a jazz artist at one point), producer Paul Kurta, mechanical makeup effects specialist Steve Neill, Ms. Marcovicci and critic Kim Newman, who comment on the B-movie auteur and “The Stuff.”
Also included, and very important to the film’s mythos, an almost 90-minute documentary from 2015 on the history of the infamous movie district located in New York City’s 42nd Street.
The piece chronicles the area mainly between 7th and 8th avenues that was once the home for legitimate theater and vaudeville musical halls. By the 1970s, it became headquarters for exploitation and grindhouse movie theaters — intertwined with sex shops and catered to transients, drug dealers, sexual predators and dangerous criminals — until revitalized by former Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani in the 1990s.
Viewers get a visual tour, using trailers and marketing materials, of many of the violent horror B-movies released during the time period as well as take a trip down memory lane via first-person accounts with those who visited the place and who were part of the genre.
Directors include Joe Dante (“The Howling”); Tom Holland (“Fright Night”); Greydon Clark (“Black Shampoo”); Jeff Liebermann (“Squirm”); Frank Henenlotter (“Basket Case”); and, of course, Cohen as well as producer Lloyd Kaufman and porn actress Veronica Hart.
Perhaps most important is the chance to watch an exclusive pre-release version of the film, on an included Blu-ray disc, adding roughly 30 minutes. The addition fills in some holes in the story, such as more exploration of the romantic relationship between Moe and Nicole. Fans will definitely appreciate this extended cut.
Finally, the packaging includes a reversible sleeve featuring new artwork from Chris Barnes and a 32-page full-color illustrated booklet featuring essays on the film by horror critics Joel Harley and Daniel Burnett.
• Joseph Szadkowski can be reached at jszadkowski@washingtontimes.com.
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