La maldición de Frankenstein Blu-ray Review

The video presentation of the Blu-ray for "L'éventreur de Notre-Dame" offers a mixed experience. This 1080p/AVC MPEG-4 encode reveals a print that appears to be in dire need of restoration, showing significant age and projection-related damage. Issues such as white specks, scratches, and discoloration including long greenish vertical gouges are prominent throughout. Despite these imperfections, the film is presented in its raw form without digital manipulation. As a result, it retains a naturally filmic quality with an intact 35mm grain structure. However, the film's inherent softness due to Franco's inadequate focusing limits fine detail, making the image appear much softer than sharp.

In terms of visual quality, the color palette displays balanced saturation with pleasing density despite some noticeable degradation. Unfortunately, the print shows extensive signs of wear, with frequent scratches, tears, and blurriness giving certain sections a DVD-like definition. The picture suffers from occasional judder and edge decay, contributing to an unattractive yellowish tint affecting the overall look of the film. One of the few positives is the well-balanced contrast, where whites appear crisp and blacks remain deep, though shadow detail occasionally suffers due to original exposure limitations rather than any fault of the Blu-ray's colorist. Notably, there are no overt compression issues or encoding glitches detected.

The audio presentation of "L'éventreur de Notre-Dame" on Blu-ray features an uncompressed Linear PCM 2.0 mix of the film's English dub. The dubbing is notably subpar and accents the age of the source material. This mix is adequate but includes noticeable flaws such as harsh peaking voices and a considerable amount of hissing and noise in higher pitches. Additionally, there are light pops and crackles throughout, effectively underscoring the track's vintage nature.

Despite these imperfections, the film's eerie score, which adeptly blends guitar, strings, and a droning organ, stands out for its atmospheric presence. However, the overall audio lacks dynamic range and variation, often sounding bright and piercing—particularly during sections featuring funky 70s music. Clarity and detail are present in certain spots, but the absence of a low-end contributes to a flat and largely uninspired soundscape. Furthermore, the release fails to include any subtitle options, which could have enhanced accessibility for viewers who require or prefer them.

The Blu-ray extras for "L'éventreur de Notre-Dame" offer a substantial and engaging variety, enhancing the viewing experience with both alternative versions and promotional materials. The 69-minute less explicit cut "Demoniac" is a standout feature, revealing different horror footage and reshot scenes that provide a new dimension to the original "Exorcism". Moreover, the compilation of trailers delivers a nostalgic homage to other key films by Jess Franco and Jean Rollin, such as "Female Vampire" and "Requiem for a Vampire". This well-curated selection of supplements provides significant insights and additional context for fans and scholars alike, assuring rich content beyond the main feature.

Extras included in this disc:

• Demoniac: A 69-minute, less sexually explicit cut of "Exorcism", featuring alternate horror footage and reshot expository scenes.
• Trailers: Includes trailers for "Female Vampire", "Exorcism", "The Rape of the Vampire", "The Nude Vampire", and "Requiem for a Vampire".

Jesús Franco's "L'éventreur de Notre-Dame" (1975), also known as "Exorcism" or "The Sadist of Notre Dame," is a quintessential example of Euro-exploitation cinema that merges lurid sleaze with horror. This film is an insightful yet problematic artifact from Franco's extensive and uneven filmography. It stars Franco himself as Mathis Vogel, an ex-communicated priest turned writer of erotic literature who becomes delusionally convinced that he is on a divine mission to exorcise demons, which he achieves through gruesome acts of murder. The plot thickens around a group of sexually liberated magazine employees who stage S&M performances for an underground Parisian audience.

At its core, "L'éventreur de Notre-Dame" offers what fans have come to expect from Franco: an ostensibly provocative narrative wrapped in a shell of explicit nudity and pseudo-gothic horror. Lina Romay—Franco's longtime muse—delivers a daring performance, catering to the exhibitionist voyeurism that permeates the film. The storyline juxtaposes sexual freedoms with themes of intolerance and fanaticism. While Franco’s narrative teems with potential for social commentary on sexual stigma and dogmatic repression, his lack of technical proficiency often hinders the impact. The film vacillates between risqué erotica and amateurish horror, marred by poor editing, dubious acting, and subpar production values.

Distinctive for its hinterland between titillation and horror, the film is notable for its campy bondage scenes and voyeuristic camera work, which often feel more tedious than titillating. There's one striking gore scene involving a visceral close-up that hints at Franco’s ability; however, his generally artless style overshadows this fleeting moment of effectiveness. Alternately released as "Demoniac" to lessen its explicit content, "L'éventreur de Notre-Dame" remains a grindhouse relic, simultaneously fascinating and flawed, exemplifying the idiosyncratic genius of its creator while illuminating the limitations that haunt much of Franco's work.

The Blu-ray release of "L'éventreur de Notre-Dame" by Jess Franco presents a curious case study in the realm of 1970s exploitation cinema. The film itself, replete with Franco's trademark low-budget production values and provocative themes, stands out for its campy entertainment and cult allure. While the narrative offers an intriguing albeit sleazy story, the overall experience might be an acquired taste, especially for those unfamiliar with Franco's work. His films often balance on the edge of the controversial and absurd, making them a fascination for genre aficionados, but possibly a deterrent for mainstream audiences.

From a technical standpoint, this Blu-ray edition is a mixed bag. The HD transfer struggles with the quality of the original print, which shows considerable wear and tear. While Kino Studio’s efforts to restore and present the film are commendable, the image quality remains inconsistent throughout. The monochrome audio track, while serviceable, does not escape its own share of limitations, with occasional distortions marring the overall sound experience. As for supplementary content, apart from an alternate edit of the film, the extras are scant and may disappoint those seeking deeper insights or historical context.

In conclusion, “L'éventreur de Notre-Dame” on Blu-ray is a niche offering that will likely appeal most to hardcore fans of Franco and vintage exploitation cinema. The less-than-stellar audio-visual presentation and lack of substantial bonus features are a letdown, but the film’s unique charm and historical value within Franco's oeuvre may still warrant attention. Prospective viewers new to Franco’s style should perhaps start with some online clips before committing to a purchase. To each his own; for enthusiasts of low-budget 1970s sleaze, this disc might be a worthy addition to their collection.