VHS Review: Al “Grampa” Lewis Hosts THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (1925; Amvest Video, 1988)

Unless I find something absolutely amazing and appropriate [alliteration] between now and October 31st, not to mention the time to write about it, y’all can just go ahead, pump the brakes, and consider this your de facto Halloween post. I’ve gotta strike now while I have the opportunity, so happy almost Halloween or something like that. (I guess I could write it all up and just wait for Halloween to post it, except that I, uh, don’t wanna.)

But what a reason to jump the gun! You see that post title above, don’t you? Oh yes, you best believe we are once again, after a nearly five year hiatus, entering the world of budget VHS releases and public domain movies and Al Lewis reprising his Grampa Munster shtick to host all of it. The last time we saw one of these here on the blog, it was October 31st (thas Halloween), 2016, when I reviewed, in exhausting detail, the Al “Grampa” Lewis edition of Night of the Living Dead.

The cover of Amvest Video’s 1988 VHS release.

Today we’re seeing yet another legitimately classic horror film – that had become delightfully public domain in the years since its original theatrical release – presented by Al Lewis: 1925’s The Phantom of the Opera. A Universal flick! Cool winnins! I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether it’s cooler than Night of the Living Dead, but at any rate, it’s still plenty cool – and no joshin’, it took me years to track down a copy.

Truthfully, as far as the site here is concerned, I wasn’t sure I’d ever take another sojourn into this video series. I mean, how many times can I go back to the same well? Still, my old articles on these have proven continuously popular, the subject matter is interesting, the movie here is good, and it’s the Halloween season; if not here and now, when?

There’s a lot of info regarding this series of tapes, and while I’ve learned some new things since 2016, by and large I’ve already covered a good portion of it. So, I’ll try to give summarized accounts of the main points where required, but for a fuller overview, my four (!) previous articles of the Grampa tapes are good places to start. (Besides Night of the Living Dead, which was the last, there was The Human Monster, which was the first, then The Corpse Vanishes, and after that, Nosferatu.)

Real quick rundown: in 1988, Amvest Video released a series of budget VHS tapes featuring old, (mostly) public domain horror & sci-fi movies hosted by Al Lewis of Grandpa Munster fame, albeit called “Grampa” here and without the Munster moniker. (Cause copyrights and trademarks and all that jazz.) The series was pretty wide-ranging, from legitimate classics to poverty row cheapies to cornball drive-in fare to imports to 70s grime. Supposedly there were 59 titles released in the series (as seen in a scroll at the end of these tapes; I’ve typed it all out before, I’m not doing it again), though not all have been confirmed to actually exist (that I’ve seen). Some feature Grampa on the cover and some inexplicably don’t, and depending on whether you’ve found an earlier or (I presume) later pressing of whatever, he might or might not even be on the actual tape. Trust me, it can get real confusing, real quick.

(As of this writing, I’ve managed to confirm all but 13 of those supposed 59 releases. While my official stance is that they all made it out at some point, and there’s indeed a handful I think are highly likely to exist, truthfully, there are some others that I’m having serious doubts about. After over six years of searching, I’ve still never seen so much as an inkling of them being out there, besides their being listed as part of the series. If they exist, they’ve gotta be exceedingly rare, and that’s in relation to a series that leans towards “obscure” as it is.)

So, 1925’s The Phantom of the Opera. That’s the cover of Amvest’s 1988 release above. As you can see, it did not feature the appropriate Grampa hoopla on the sleeve, though the watercolor (?) rendering of Lon Chaney’s Phantom used for the artwork wasn’t/isn’t bad. I kinda like it! Oh, and I really wasn’t kidding before; it seriously took years for me to track this one down. I can’t remember how many copies I wound up purchasing before hitting Al Lewis pay dirt (the last only a few weeks before finally nabbing the jackpot here, believe it or not), but they kept being movie-only. While it’s a legit classic, man, I needed the full experience, yo! Despite reading an offhand comment about the host segments somewhere once, that wasn’t enough to get me to label this one “confirmed.” Nevertheless, it was one of the titles I suspected to exist, and well, my suspicion was correct. (You wanna get technical up in here, the cover above is actually that of the placeholder copy that the Grampa version duly replaced, simply because the Grampa one got put into safe storage right quick and thus the placeholder was the one readily available for subsequent picture-takin’. But the covers are identical so why are you giving me grief?)

Grampa imploring the unseen Igor to state the title of the movie.

You like how I worked this screencap here? It’s like Lewis is pointing at the tape cover above! That’s called manufacturing success or something like that.

These tapes (when you find a good’un, at least) always feature the same intros and outros – what, you thought Lewis was gonna film 59 unique sets of host segments? Get outta here with that jive!

In them, Lewis appears and, accompanied by some silly computerized special effects, goes into his whole Grampa routine. He’s an old vampire, he’s not Paul Newman, and he’s excited to be hosting movies from the Amvest library. An elaborate affair the set-up is not, but it IS fun and effectively charming. Hey, if you’ve got PD movies that countless other companies are also releasing during the then-current home video boom, you gotta do something to stand out, and boy did Amvest succeed there! No foolin’, this works SO much better than just another dry company I.D. and/or reminder to adjust the tracking on your stupid VCR. It’s all very “budget VHS release” of course, but there’s a level of ‘specialness’ here that other releases of a similar ilk lacked beyond whatever pathetic cover art they sported.

Anyway, the only thing that varied, or was MEANT to vary, from tape to tape in this series was a moment in the intro where Grampa would ask an off-screen Igor to tell the home viewer the name of the respective movie. The idea was for “Igor” to then state the name of the flick and who was starring in it. A good deal of the time though, this voiceover was left out entirely, which meant that Lewis looking at the camera expectantly before finally exclaiming “THAT’S THE ONE! Good boy, Igor!” to absolutely nothing was often the order of the day. Unintentionally funny? Well, yeah. But still, something to add a unique touch is always appreciated.

In this particular case, I’m happy to report that Amvest’s Grampa Phantom of the Opera does indeed feature the Igor voiceover! It’s just a brief moment, but it’s such a welcome addition – especially since the movie featured here truly deserves it. (Actually, I’ve been on an Igor-roll lately; the last three Grampas I’ve been able to confirm, Battle of the Worlds, Godzilla vs. Megalon and our subject today, they’ve all featured the Igor voiceover. I guess I’m streaky when it comes to things that really don’t matter, but I’m still deeming all this “neato.”)

The title screen. (Duh!)

Okay, what say we talk some movie stuff, cause the 1925 Phantom of the Opera, this ain’t no small potatoes. Indeed, this is a film that has achieved legendary status – and rightfully so.

Although, perhaps calling this version a 1925 film is a little misleading. While the movie was indeed first released in ’25, there was a 1930 (or was it 1929? I’ve heard both) rerelease that, long story short, is where a lot of footage in these common PD-arena copies comes from. Or, I guess there were some reshot scenes, but then, other footage is from 1925, but from a second camera (common practice back in the day), so…so…

You know what? You try to figure it all out. Wikipedia has some info on the subject, and I imagine there’s a wealth of even more in-depth dissections and analysis’ out there (here’s one), but the honest truth is that I’ve delved into all this well before this article, and frankly, it just makes my head swim. I feel like I need a flippin’ program to keep on track here, but even then, I’m not sure that’d be enough. I’m just gonna keep deeming it “1925” and let the chips fall where they may. Truth be told, it’s all fascinating stuff (if you’re into this sort of thing anyway), but MAN does it get confusing fast.

Regardless of origin(s), here’s where we’re at: the VHS sleeve gives a runtime of approximately 75 minutes, though that’s obviously not taking the Grampa bits into account, which in total run roughly 6 minutes. From start to finish the tape runs about 1 hour 20 minutes, so, yeah. Near as I can tell, these kinds of Phantom of the Opera prints should be closer 90 minutes, so it’s safe to say there was some film editin’ afoot – though when or where those edits originally occurred, or by who, is not an issue I’m prepared to tackle right now.

As it stands, there’s no technicolor sequence and no inexplicable-yet-fascinating lantern man scene here; I know that much.

Lon Chaney’s portrayal of The Phantom.

Some of my unfamiliarity stems from the fact that I’ve only seen this movie in its entirety (such as it is HAW HAW HAW) once before, and it was back in the actual VHS days. Just like nowadays, vintage horror & sci-fi was always on my radar, so when a (different) budget VHS copy fell into my paws, I duly watched it. I can’t really remember my reaction to the film, but then, all I really can remember is that the technicolor ball sequence was included in that one.

I probably should pick me up a restored/remastered/whatevered copy of this movie at some point, but you know, even edited and with some quality issues (more on those momentarily), this movie is a wonder. Lon Chaney as the titular character is a marvel – still appropriately grotesque, creepy, yet magnetic to this very day. (And the famous unmasking scene is still effective, as well.) Chaney absolutely commands this film in a way I’m not sure another actor could have, and as such, totally recalls Bela Lugosi’s portrayal of Dracula in that movie.

Speaking of which, like Dracula, The Phantom of the Opera is a Universal film, Universal being, of course, the tops in golden age cinematic horror. The Phantom is very often – and deservedly – placed in the same stable as Universal’s other monster stars, though I generally think of Universal’s stellar run of horror films as truly beginning with the twin 1931 whammy of Dracula and Frankenstein. I tend to consider Phantom as more of a precursor than an entry in all that, albeit one that should also be spoken of in the same breath as the others. And what’s more interesting is that unlike those later films, Phantom lapsed into the public domain, something you don’t typically associate with Universal horror. (I guess you could give an honorary mention to 1923’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame here as well, which also stars Chaney and could be considered a precursor to a precursor, though I think of that as more of a drama film with horror undertones. Overtones?)

Different versions of the story have different details (full disclosure: I haven’t read the original novel), but I think most of us have at least a basic understanding of the gist of the plot: the crazed, deformed Erik inhabits the ancient lairs deep beneath the Paris Opera House, occasionally coming above ground to ‘haunt’ the opera. He becomes obsessed with a particular actress, the beautiful Christine (played by Mary Philbin here), and begins threatening, and then sabotaging, the production in order to further her career – in exchange for her love. Of course, when Erik feels Christine has betrayed him…

The plot has proven suitably timeless, of course; there have been countless adaptations, some apparently looser than others, not to mention the big time famous musical you’ve probably heard of unless you entered extreme isolation waaaaay before 2020. Universal themselves made another version, this one starring Claude Raines, in 1943 – absolutely during their top-of-the-horror-film-world run. Certainly it’s less iconic than the Chaney version and with a bit too much opera, but the durability of the story and the status of the character as a horror mainstay was clearly evident even back then.

Where Phantom ’25 is concerned, as good as the storyline is (and it’s really good), even more striking is the imagery. Not just Chaney’s superb Phantom, but the whole world of the movie. Despite the class and extravagance that an opera house should naturally project, the nasty catacombs beneath it truly succeed in creating, I guess you could say, a whole different universe. The putrid, pitch black canals down there (I couldn’t help wondering what could be residing in those waters) are a sight to behold. And while on the trail of the Phantom and kidnapped Christine, when her boyfriend Raoul and a secret police officer encounter a secret messenger of the Phantom, who pops out of the shadows, warns them away, and then disappears back into the dark, it’s genuinely creepy; even surreal!

Though for as impressed as I was with all of this, I also fear I’m still missing out somewhat, and it’s mostly due to the print quality of the version found on this tape – it’s pretty bad. As in “someone dragged the reels around the parking lot 10 or 11 times before throwing them in the projector” bad. The amount of dust/dirt/scratches present is, to say the least, considerable. While I don’t necessarily mind the “old timey cinema” vibes they project, I also can’t help but feel they obscure some of the finer details of the set design, cinematography, etc. etc. etc. Phantom wasn’t just another movie, it was a legit production, and while it’s easy enough to intellectually know that while watching, it can be easy to forget from, I suppose, a visceral, “in the moment” viewpoint. Not unlike missing out on some of the spectacular scenery in Metropolis when it’s watched via a less-than-ideal print.

Oh, by the way, I hope you like your silent movies really silent, because there’s no musical soundtrack whatsoever in this version of the film! From the numerous copies I picked up beforehand, I was aware of this going in, and as such I knew I had to watch in the daytime when I’d (hopefully) be most alert – a practice that under normal circumstances I’d actively avoid. For reasons best described as arbitrary, I firmly believe movies should be evening/nighttime endeavors; watching in the light of day just doesn’t feel right to me – especially horror movies such as this one. Still, rather than risk dozing off and/or being distracted by my failures of the preceding day floating around my head, I opted for the daylight experience – though the fact it was an overcast day helped somewhat.

Though I will say this: the blasted quality of the film and lack of accompanying soundtrack does impart a dreamy, nightmarish quality to this version of the movie that, to be totally frank, I don’t think is altogether bad. Preferable? Well, no; the purists will certainly – and understandably – balk. But with more definitive editions readily available in this day and age, seeing the movie with these ‘attributes’ is an interesting experience if nothing else.

Of course, those more-authoritative releases lack one very important element that this release features: AL “GRAMPA” LEWIS.

I wonder what look the tattoo artist would give me if I asked them to put this image ON MY FACE.

Going to and from the dead silence of the movie to the silly Grampa stuff is a bit jarring, no question, but it’s also kinda funny in its absurdity.

The outros for these tapes were by and large dedicated to pushing the tape series as a whole. Besides the scroll of (supposedly) available titles I mentioned earlier, Grampa gave info for where/how to buy these back in the day. You could order direct if so inclined, price and address were provided, but with the possible exception of the actual listing of titles, the defining moment comes, in my opinion, here, when Grampa shows home viewers the “Casket of Horrors,” which you were supposed to look for at your local video store. (Remember those?)

Yes, it was a specific store display from Amvest, letting you know their wares were appropriately spooky. I can’t make out anything Grampa-specific on the display as provided for this segment, but it does look like some images of Universal monsters might have been used for advertising. Besides the fact I’m not sure such a thing was even allowed, it’s also a pretty brazen move; aside from (obviously) the Phantom, you just weren’t going to find any of those actual movies coming from Amvest. Films and/or stars that are in the same vein or that recall those big time flicks, sure, but the real things themselves? Ain’t no way, b!

I have no idea if this “Casket of Horrors” display was ever (widely?) produced and used in actual stores, I’ve never seen one come up for sale nor have I ever heard of anyone recalling them, though of course that doesn’t definitively mean anything one way or the other. But the theme and very idea behind it, not only is it “Halloween cool” by itself, but also a spiffy reminder of that era in home video stores.

And really, these videos in general recall that period in home video history. Tapes (and VCRs themselves) were becoming more and more accessible to the general populace, rather than the expensive luxury items that could be more rental-only than owned-outright. ‘Course, sometimes this was at the expense of quality, don’t forget these Grampas were budget tapes and often looked it, but there was an organic charm to all of this that would be increasingly, erm, decreased as the years went by. They may have been cheap and occasionally cheesy, but budget tapes back then could almost have a do-it-yourself, homemade feel to them that felt (feels) more endearing than the progressively-homogenized offerings of subsequent years.

Okay, so when all is said and done, what do we have here? A public domain, music-less, worn out copy of 1925’s The Phantom of the Opera, but bookended by goofy Al “Grampa” Lewis host segments.

So, best home video release of the film ever? Well, maybe a top five’r, anyway!

Happy kinda sorta Halloween gang!

Amvest Video’s Grampa Presents VHS Series: 1922’s “Nosferatu” (1988)

You want October-appropriate? You got it!

Why’s that? Because the quest continues! The quest for what, you ask? More Grampa Presents tapes, that’s what! See that image above? That’s the mark of greatness. You can’t deny it, because it is. Blood-drippin’ font, Al Lewis kinda sorta winking at you, greatness.

Actually, the quest for these tapes never stopped. With last year’s big Halloween day post, I first spotlighted the Amvest Video “Grampa Presents” VHS series, in which Al Lewis (who was Grandpa Munster in everything but official name) hosted public domain horror films from a cheap, green-screened set and yelled at an unseen (and unheard) Igor.

Despite that tape having the notable malady of ending before the movie was actually finished, I was entranced, and by January 2016, I had not only added a number of titles in the series to my collection, but also gained quite a bit of knowledge on the company, the series as a whole, etc. This was all presented on the blog via an intensely detailed review of The Corpse Vanishes from the line, a tape that has become one of the favorites of my collection (and that post is one of my favorites on this site, too).

I’d like that Corpse Vanishes post to be the ultimate word on the subject, but that doesn’t mean my purchasing of these tapes or first-hand ‘research’ has stopped since. Oh no, I kept adding to the collection, kept learning about the various quirks of the line. Indeed, as far as pre-recorded VHS releases go, Grampa has become the main area of interest for me.

That said, while I don’t want to reiterate all of the points I made in that last article, I feel I need to give a quick summation of just why I’m so fascinated by this whole thing. In short: the series had limited distribution, and has subsequently become relatively obscure. Despite a list of supposed releases, no one is quite sure just how many tapes actually made it out with Grampa adorning them in some fashion. Add to all that a cheap, budget tape charm and the aspect of horror hosting at the center of it all, and, well, is it any wonder I want as many of these as possible?

And that brings us to this tape. In the realm of budget VHS (and Halloween!), the charmingly cheap vibes emanating forth are nearly overpowering. I mean, you’ve got Al “Grampa” Lewis, presiding over one of the greatest horror films of all-time, the 1922 silent classic Nosferatu! The German expressionist (unauthorized) adaption of Dracula! How cool is that?!

Now, this tape was not one of the “does it actually exist or not?” entries; its existence has been confirmed for quite some time, with a pic of the box floating around online to match. Still, the very thought of Grampa hosting one of my all-time favorite films, and a bonafide classic to boot, easily made it one of my personal chasers. It took awhile for it to show up online, but eventually it did, and duly became mine. It seems like this Nosferatu is one of the harder entries to come by, but then, even the more “common” titles don’t appear all that often. And, regardless of any perceived rarity on my part, these Grampa tapes seem to run on average $20-$30 no matter what the featured movie is. Sometimes even less.

Look, I love these releases, warts and all, but aside from being compared to other old VHS tapes, they’re not really worth all that much. Is that because the line is so obscure? Because the tapes are so cheap in pretty much every facet? Or is it because I’m the only one that actually cares about all this? I don’t know the answers to these burning questions, but I do know that this Nosferatu VHS is mine and you can’t have it. So there!

You can’t say the cover isn’t eye-catching, though in a good way or a bad way is solely up to the individual gawking at it. The watercolor-ish rendition of one of the most iconic images from the film, complete with mood-setting-yet-totally-superfluous lightning added, is a good example of the art used for many (but not all!) of these tapes. As I’ve said before, they often had a decidedly “homemade” look to them, some ultimately faring better than others. Many will disagree, but I personally feel that the hand drawn covers only add to the charm of the line. It just screams “budget tape,” which, needless to say, is like my own personal Siren. (Minus the resulting sailor death – hopefully.)

But, as I’ve also pointed out before, these covers are absolutely made by the “Grampa Presents” banner along the top. How could a horror fan not want to add that to their collection? They’re always so unabashedly cool, and they totally add a unique aspect to these releases. Why pick up that cheapo copy of Nosferatu when you can have this one with Al Lewis adorning it? It’s a decision that practically makes itself!

Like the cover art, the synopsis’ found on the backs of these varied from release to release. Nosferatu got one of the more-detailed ones, though it’s kinda odd. Nosferatu was, as previously mentioned, an unauthorized adaption of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. As such, the filmmakers originally changed names and details in hopes of avoiding a lawsuit from Stoker’s estate (a ploy that failed spectacularly; more on that in a bit). Later American prints later changed these aspects back to fit more with the Dracula we know and love. Perhaps surprisingly, the summary on the back cover uses the original naming system in its description (except for “Bremen,” which should be “Wisborg” in this instance), even though the actual print is a later Dracula-ized U.S. version that frequently made (and makes) the public domain rounds. So what point of reference was Amvest actually working from here?

And the synopsis as a whole, it’s strangely ‘paced,’ for lack of a better term. Not only does it completely ignore the Dracula-aspects of the movie, but it also really focuses on only half the story. There’s too much emphasis on Hutter/Harker being stuck in the castle, and not enough on what the movie is really about. That said, even if I hadn’t known better, it still sounds like a pretty good movie. But, the bottom line is, it’s not a very balanced summary.

‘Course, like the banner on the front covers, the saving grace on the back covers was always the “Grampa’s Ratings” feature found at the bottom. They were like Al Lewis’ own stamp of approval, his personal guarantee of a good time. He always gave a short (sometimes very short) endorsement, and the piece de resistance, a star rating system – but composed entirely of bats. That’s fantastic. No joke, through whatever faults these tapes may exhibit, they have charm to spare.

Though, only three bats? C’mon Gramps, if Nosferatu doesn’t deserve a whole four bats (or five, if that’s what his scale went up to), what does? At least he correctly concludes that it’s a “scary silent classic,” which it totally is.

(While I have my doubts that Lewis really wrote these summaries himself, I’m operating under the assumption that he did, if for no other reason than the mental image of Grandpa Munster slaving over his synopsis and score for a budget videotape amuses me.)

NosTeratu. From the same award-winning quality control that let a tape recorded in the wrong speed make it out the door. And yet, I can’t help but love the extreme budget tape vibes projected forth by said typo. Charm baby, charm.

Amount of tape used to record this entry in the series: approximately a foot. Obviously, this is an EP-recorded tape. (However, even though it’s not an issue this time around, there is an inherent danger in jumping to such a conclusion; allow me to direct you back to my first Grampa tape review.)

Okay, so, we’ve seen the front and back covers, and the tape itself. Now it’s time for the really good stuff: Al “Grampa” Lewis not only hosting a horror movie, but a legitimately great horror movie! Behold…

…

…

…

What? Oh, you’re confused by the fact that you’re not seeing any actual screenshots of Grampa in action? There’s a simple reason for that: Grampa is MIA on this tape.

Yes, despite all the pomp and circumstance found on the front and back of the slipcase, inexplicably, the Grampa host segments are not included on my copy. Looks like Amvest went the Gene Shalit route this time around! (I’m reasonably sure this is the only review of Nosferatu to include a common link between Gene Shalit and Al Lewis, by the way.)

Okay, sure, the host segments for this line of tapes, they were the exact same for each movie; it’s not like I’m missing out on anything actually new to me here. Still, their absence does take away an aspect of this VHS that would have made it stand as really unique when compared to other similar releases of Nosferatu.

During my “journey” collecting as many tapes in this series as I can, I long ago discovered that certain releases, while appropriately displaying Lewis on the cover, do not actually feature him before and/or after the movie. (But on the flip side, a few releases don’t feature him on the cover at all, yet he is there when “Play” is pressed!) So, I knew that him not showing up to legitimately host this film was a distinct possibility. Just because I was forewarned doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt me deep anyway, though.

Seeing how up-and-down a lot of these Amvest releases were/are, I don’t rule out the possibility that the Al Lewis segments DID show up on some copies of Nosferatu. I’m going to guess (and that’s all this is, a guess on my part) that later issues of these tapes neglected to include the Lewis segments. I have three SP-recorded tapes from the line, and none feature him. And, as far as the EP recorded ones go, this isn’t the only one I have that omits him, either. So, it wouldn’t really surprise me if other issues of the same title did have the Grampa bits.

I guess what I’m getting at is that you just never really know until you actually play one of these.

But, Grampa or no Grampa, Nosteratu Nosferatu is still Nosferatu. I mean, it doesn’t get much more classic than this! Plus, even with the Al Lewis host segments absent, his mere presence on the cover is enough to make Kino green with envy. Oh sure, they can restore and tint and whatever this film as much as they want, the fact remains that none of their various VHS, DVD or Blu-ray releases of Nosferatu have Grampa Munster featured on the artwork, and thus, Amvest wins.

Or do they? This ain’t exactly a Criterion-quality print of the film. Indeed, it’s borderline unwatchable, and that’s coming from a guy that spends a fair amount of time staring at thousand-year-old EP-recorded VHS tapes.

First, the good news: this is basically the version of the film that introduced me to the movie waaay back in 1997. It was Halloween day, and I was in 5th grade. My grade school always did the whole costume thing, and at lunch we were allowed to go home to change. Now, I was already a young tape-head, and I had discovered our WAOH TV-29 and the variety of classic movies they ran that just-past Summer. Oddly enough though, it wasn’t until their late morning broadcast of Nosferatu on that fateful day that I recorded anything off the station. Already a big horror and sci-fi fan, and a sucker for silents too, I was pretty stoked to check out this new-to-me movie.

So, lunchtime rolled around, my brother and I came home to get our costumes, and I had just enough time to see what I captured earlier that very day. Obviously I didn’t have time to watch the whole thing right then, but it took only a few cursory glances to know this was already ‘my’ movie. I was a fan from the start.

It was an old, worn, Americanized print, one that I’d run into time and time again in the years following, but the thing that, unbeknownst to me initially, really set this one apart was a wonderfully spooky score (relatively spooky, anyway). I can’t think of a better way to describe this, but the “woooooo” sound made upon the opening credits starting, it instantly set the tone, and thus that’s just one of the reasons this is the version of the film I’m most nostalgic for.

So, this Amvest release is essentially the same version I first saw that day back in October 1997. Well, except for the Thunderbird Films superimposition on the title screen (above), far worse print quality, and film duplication that’s markedly below what I myself recorded in EP back in ’97. I still find it wildly endearing, but man, my taped-off-TV copy from nearly 20 years ago (I refuse to believe it’s been that long!) is actually superior to this “real” release! Go figure!

See, Dracula-styled names. Did you think I was lying? I wasn’t. Upon its original release, Nosferatu changed those well-known versions to alternates. Drac became “Count Orlock,” Renfield became “Knock,” Harker became “Hutter,” and so on. Lemme explain a bit…

Nosferatu almost didn’t exist long enough for Grampa to (almost) host it. You know that lawsuit I mentioned earlier, the fear of which being the reason the names were changed in the first place? Yeah, that case was decided in the favor of Stoker’s widow anyway, and she immediately ordered that all prints be destroyed. Yikes! According to legend, she never even watched the film. Luckily, a few copies survived (foreign exports, if I recall correctly), and it’s those sources that gave us the film(s) we have today.

Well, at some point, U.S. prints began removing “Orlock” and so on and instead utilizing the originally-changed names. Nosferatu was obviously already Dracula-ish, but this made it even more Dracula-ish (which makes sense, since it’s, you know, Dracula), and those are the versions most commonly (always?) found making the public domain rounds nowadays.

Are the “re-revised” names found on this release true to the original film? Well, no. Purists will naturally balk at their inclusion here (and at a variety of other aspects, too). Still, because this is how I first saw the movie, I initially had a hard time fully getting into the restored versions that utilized the original ‘fake’ names. Doesn’t bother me now, but I still refer to Max Schreck’s vampire as “Dracula,” not “Orlock,” simply because that’s what it was to me first.

A face? Nosferatu don’t need no face!

Look, we’re lucky to have any prints of Nosferatu at all, and naturally the ones we did end up with were copied endlessly in the years prior to this video release. Even the various Kino versions, fantastic though they are, aren’t exactly pristine. So, no one should ever think they’re going to get something particularly fantastic-lookin’ from a budget VHS edition. One recorded in EP, at that.

As you can see above, there are shapes and forms on-screen, but actual detail is pretty much loooong gone. Now, most of that is the print itself, but Amvest, for as much as I love ’em, they get some of the blame here, too; their duplication techniques were apparently not the best. I’m not just talking the EP recording speed either, but rather the actual duplication. So many of these tapes look like they were duplicated using the old VCR-to-VCR method; maybe they were, I don’t know. Point is, when you’re using a trashed print of whatever, poor duplication is only going to make the final product look even worse.

A face? Nosferatu don’t need no face!

The poor condition of this print (and others like it), it’s understandable; I don’t think there was anything even approaching a ‘definitive’ Nosferatu until Kino released their terrific restoration in 1991. And, despite the poor quality here, you do get the gist of things. But man, sharper image quality makes a big difference in a film like this.

On that front, I’ve got to backtrack a bit. I’ve previously stated that with films like this (and the original Night of the Living Dead, while we’re at it), you can clean them up and restore them all you want, the older, worn prints are the ones I find most effective. I don’t mind if a version uses the Dracula names, lacks tinting, is scratchy, whatever – to me, that only enhances the nightmarish quality. It almost feels more otherworldly, like you’re watching something you’re not supposed to. I know I’m in the minority here, and it undoubtedly has to do with how I first saw the movie, but hey, that’s just me.

HOWEVER, I’ve got to rectify that statement somewhat; while I still stand by it, I stand by it only to an extent. This Nosferatu, it just looks bad. It’s blurry, the detail is blasted, and the picture is overly cropped. As such, much of the mood, not only is it NOT enhanced, it’s actually destroyed beyond repair.

A head? Nosferatu don’t need no head!

There’s that cropping I just mentioned! Nosferatu being cropped isn’t exactly a unique aspect to this release; many versions suffered varying degrees of cropping. Amvest’s Nosferatu though, boy, scenes like the one above (one of my favorites from the film) are not only rendered much less effective, they also look a bit goofy – and Nosferatu is anything but goofy.

Abrupt gear shift; I should probably talk about the actual movie a little, huh? I have a feeling most people stumbling on to my silly little blog have already seen Nosferatu; it’s one of THE top horror films, silent or otherwise. But if, by chance, you haven’t seen Nosferatu, yet are familiar with Dracula (in some form or another), well, you’ll probably already have an idea of how this film plays out. The basics are same: a vampire travels from his faraway castle to civilization, bringing with him a thirst for blood, and thus, death.

There’s some notable differences in Nosferatu, even beyond the aforementioned name changes. The setting is German instead of English, different date, different way of defeating the vampire, etc. The biggest difference, however, is the vampire himself; this ain’t your Lugosi’s Dracula! Instead of the classy Count that Bela portrayed, Max Schreck’s is an ugly, rat-like creature. Tall, gawky, stiff as a board and with claw-like hands, Nosferatu is legitimately terrifying. Unlike Lugosi’s Dracula, Schreck’s looks as evil as he really is! (Too bad the quality of this print is too rough for me to really show you!)

Look, Nosferatu is public domain. There’s no shortage of copies out there. My recommendation: head on over to Amazon and grab Kino’s fantastic restoration. If you haven’t seen the film, you need to see it. It’s a fantastic piece of German expressionism that, frankly, I’m not sure I can do justice to by merely explaining it.

Look familiar? Why, that’s our cover art in action! You’ll note the absence of lightning. And why exactly is a vampire walking around in daylight? Nosferatu was originally tinted, with appropriate colors for appropriate times/scenes/etc. Restored versions included new, supposedly-accurate tinting, though that is, of course, not the case with the public domain copies such as this one.

It’s a testament to just how well-made this film is that even without the original tinting, and even in a print as poor as this particular one, some of the images still remain effective. Case in point: above, and below…

Surely you recognize this scene. It’s one of the most iconic images from the film, which is really saying something, considering there’s plenty of iconic images throughout. Even with the shoddy shape this print is in, it’s tough to ruin it, though the VHS refusing to track properly did the best it could. (No kidding; being old budget tapes, these Amvest videos often have tracking problems, but man, this Nosferatu just got crankier and crankier as it played.)

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This is a tape where the whole is probably greater than the sum of its parts.

While on one hand you’ve got a legitimately classic horror film as part of a cool series of tapes from the golden age of home video, you’ve also got a terrible print, problematic tracking, and what was supposed to be one of the most unique things about the whole deal, Grampa’s host segments, those aren’t even included.

And yet, somehow, it still works. Don’t get me wrong, this is far, far from a definitive release of Nosferatu, but as an artifact of 1980s home video, it’s pretty darn cool. Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker for classic horror films, especially public domain ones that have found their way to the often-murky world of cheapie videotapes.

Or maybe it’s just that Al Lewis box art. After all, that alone probably puts this one above all the other budget releases of the time. Okay, it’s a host-less version of the movie, and with awful picture-quality to boot. Doesn’t change the fact this makes for one neat, Halloweeny-lookin’ video! On the outside, anyway…

At any rate, I couldn’t be happier to have this as part of my collection. Another Grampa tape down, _____ to go!

Amvest Video’s Grampa Presents VHS Series: 1939’s The Human Monster (1988)

Happy Halloween!

I can’t believe Halloween 2015 is here! The year zipped by like nothing, and this last month in particular has been a whirlwind. I love Halloween, but there’s always a sad feeling when the big day finally arrives; the whole month is a build-up to October 31st, and then Halloween itself comes and goes in a quick 24 hours. And just like that, full attention is then directed to Thanksgiving and Christmas. Halloween just ain’t long enough, man.

Some readers may remember last year when my Halloween-appropriate output during the season was decidedly lacking. Real life and all that jazz. I have rectified that error somewhat this year; last week we saw Gene Shalit’s visage pitch 1941’s The Wolf Man on VHS, and for this Halloween day post, I’m going above and beyond. Gene Shalit and Lon Chaney Jr. are a tough act to follow, but I do believe I have accomplished just that, with this: Amvest Video’s Grampa Presents VHS series, starring none other than Al “Grampa Munster” Lewis! And he’s hosting Bela Lugosi’s The Human Monster! Cool winnins!

There were a bunch of these Grampa Presents videos for Amvest, though the overall distribution was so limited that no one is quite sure just how many were actually released and how many were merely proposed releases. A good number of titles did make it out of the door in some amount, but none of them are easily found nowadays. Indeed, these releases range from highly obscure to impossibly rare. Heck, even non-Grampa-branded Amvest titles are often tough to come by. Some of these tapes are worth more than others, mostly depending on rarity and/or how cool/popular/whatever the movie featured is. But for those so inclined, enough diligent internet searching should turn up at least some fairly affordable prospects. I mean, these are rare, but not that rare. They ain’t the Honus Wagner of VHS tapes, man.

So, when I was able to nab this tape for a price that didn’t cause my arms to flail about in utter dismay, I jumped at the chance. A bit over $20? A little pricey for an ancient budget VHS, but I can live with it. Don’t underestimate just how gratifying it is to finally have one of these tapes in my collection. I’ve been aware of the series for some time now, but the pricing/availability/whatever just never worked out for me. But, I was able to make it happen in time for this Halloween post, and that’s something I really hoped to accomplish.

Much of my fascination with the Amvest Grampa videos stems from two factors:

1) The apparent limited distribution and uncertainty regarding which titles in this series did and didn’t actually hit store shelves, plus the murky aura that often tends to surround these cheapie, dime store video releases in general. It sort of lends an air of mystery to these tapes, and I find that endlessly intriguing.

2) I’m an Al “Grampa” Lewis fan, period. He was such a cool guy, and he never resented the Grampa character typecasting that stuck with him following The Munsters. On the contrary, he took it and ran with it. Besides these videos, there were the personal appearances, television commercials, his own restaurant, even an Atari 7800 game. So yeah, if he’s going to have his own line of VHS tapes in which he hosts public domain horror movies, I’m all over that.

And just look at that cover art! If that isn’t budget tape greatness, I don’t know what is. Caricatures of Bela Lugosi and Wilfred Walters (not Hugh Williams as the cover implies), drawn in the proud public domain tape tradition (on cardboard so flimsy I’m actually a little surprised the sleeve has survived to the present day as well as it has), with an illustration of Al “Grampa” Lewis overlooking it all. When it comes to the realm of mega-cheap 1980s budget VHS tapes, it just does not get cooler than that.

The artwork used for the tapes in the series ranged from “pretty darn decent” (usually the ones that used real photographs or original movie poster art as their basis) to “hilariously amateurish” (many, but not all, of the entries with hand-drawn original artwork), though I’m thinking the illustration for The Human Monster falls somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. You wouldn’t have seen CBS/FOX releasing something like this, but for what it is, a budget video featuring a public domain movie, it’s perfectly serviceable, maybe even above-average.

The back cover, naturally. The description is perfunctory, as is par for the course with tapes of this nature (click on it for a super-sized view and judge fo’ yo’ self).

What takes this aspect of the release from “meh” territory to “greatest achievement of mankind” territory is the “Grampa’s Ratings” feature at the bottom. Apparently, Grampa gives the film two bats and a description of “Horrible Horror,” which probably isn’t the best way to pitch a prospective customer on your video until you realize you’re supposed to think this was Al Lewis himself giving his seal of approval, in which case how good or bad the movie is is almost secondary to the mental picture of Grampa sitting down and critically analyzing it.

I wonder if Amvest actually did solicit Lewis’ opinion and those are his own real words on the back? I can easily see it being a gimmick the marketing department (?) cooked up to add some extra allure to the tape, but I can just as easily see Lewis matter-of-factly stating his opinion. “It’s hohrrable horrah, Hoyman!” That was my attempt at an Al Lewis-style New York accent, though it probably doesn’t work in print as well as I hoped. Just play along here, okay?

The tape itself, featuring the plainest label and cheapest film reels in the universe, as well as approximately 3 feet of actual video tape used total (make note of this fact; it will come back to haunt me later).

Okay, preliminaries out of the way, we now come to the real reason anyone bought the tape back then or cares about the tape today…

Al “Grampa Munster” Lewis! Look at him up there. What a badass.

Like I said before, I’m a huge Al Lewis fan, and seeing him doing his Grampa shtick in any format is a pleasure. But, when that shtick entails horror hosting, man, that’s directly up my alley. On that front, these Amvest videos not only feature Lewis hosting a movie, they were also released in 1988, which was smack in the middle of Lewis’ run on TBS as host of Super Scary Saturday, a weekend showcase in which he hosted horror and sci-fi films as his Grampa persona. Back in June, I looked at one such broadcast.

By ’88, home video was a genuine fact of life, and by then it had progressed to the point where it was actually feasible to have budget tapes. Considering Lewis wasn’t shy about lending his Grampa-persona to anyone willing to pony up the bucks, his TBS show was doing well with the kids, and Thriller Video had some success with Elvira hosting movies-for-video, it makes total sense to try to get in on some o’ dat. Heck, this sorta feels like an attempt at aping Thriller’s Elvira videos, only more cut-rate and kid-friendly.

Those used to his Super Scary Saturday set and its expansive “mad scientist lab” set-up are in for a bit of a shock here. A ‘real’ lab set is nowhere to be found; instead, a green screen featuring a stock shot (I guess) of a lab, with added tinting and neon-squiggle accents (hey, it was 1988), is used for this endeavor. It looks, well, it looks kinda rinky dink, but Amvest was a budget outfit, and after shelling out the Grampa-bucks, you do what you can afford.

The setting may be a low budget affair, but his dialog is classic Grampa. Really, I can’t see how anyone couldn’t love the guy. He opens with a joke about viewers mistaking him for Paul Newman (note: he’s not), and then makes specific mention of personally watching a movie from Amvest’s film library with you, the viewer. Since these tapes were almost certainly aimed at kids (for the most part; there’s a couple more-intense films sprinkled throughout), his patter fits perfectly, and he (obviously) had his act down to a science by that point. So even though it isn’t/wasn’t a high-end setting, it all still works wonderfully, and it’s all to Lewis’ performance.

And really, while my feelings may be slightly skewed because this is Halloween day, this all just feels like the kind of tape parents would put on for kids that were too young to fully partake in Halloween activities but still wanted to give them something ostensibly spooky to stare at. I love it.

By the way, there was an opening sequence to all of this wackiness, but as was the case with so many budget videos, there was no customary blank black screen or copyright notices prior to the start of the show/movie/etc. The program itself started at the very beginning of the tape. Problem with that set-up is that when it comes to tapes of this nature, that’s when tracking and whatnot is still getting situated, and as far as this tape goes, by the time things settle down to a coherent viewing-point, Grampa is already into his pitch. This irritates me.

Rumor has it that these intros and outros were the exact same for every Amvest Grampa Presents release, with only a voiceover changed to reflect the different films featured. That is, Grampa would ask the unseen Igor what the feature film was for that video, and then look on expectantly as the title was announced via the aforementioned voiceover.

Methinks the quality control at Amvest was a little lax, because for this release, they forgot the voiceover! What this means is you get to watch Grampa listening in anticipation to absolute silence and then excitedly proclaiming “That’s the one!” Even for a budget video company, I can’t believe they let something like that slip through the cracks. It’s unintentionally hilarious until I remember I paid over $20 for this damn tape.

(Amvest’s apparent laxness manifests itself in more dire form later, but we’ll get to that in due time.)

Being wildly public domain, this isn’t a hard movie to track down in the slightest, but oddly enough, until I got this tape I only ever saw the film under the original British title of Dark Eyes Of London.

As stoked as I am to have this video, I’m the first to admit this flick has never been a favorite of mine. In fact, I find it fairly dull. I first recorded it (under that Dark Eyes Of London title) off of WAOH TV-29/WAX TV-35 waaay back in, I’m pretty sure, 1997. At the time, I was into any and all old horror and sci-fi films, and being from the 1930s/1940s sweet-spot (which I still have a strong affinity for to this day), Dark Eyes should have instantly found a place in my heart

But, it didn’t. Even this latest viewing did little to change my opinion that it’s a slow-moving, dry, overtly British film. Not that I mean to knock British films, there’s a ton of great ones even from just the same time period as this, but British horror and sci-fi has just never appealed to me the way similar U.S. products in the genre(s) have. It may be anathema to admit this, but even the Hammer films have never really tripped my trigger. And Gorgo? A less fun (and overrated, in my opinion) Godzilla knock-off. In fact, Vincent Price’s Theatre Of Blood has been the only British film in this genre to genuinely, raptly hold my attention.

So, hey, I know this won’t be a popular opinion, but I’m being honest: I find The Human Monster infinitely less fun than Bela’s The Ape Man, Invisible Ghost, or what have you. And, I know I’m probably in the minority there; a lot of people love this movie. That’s fine, I don’t want to stomp around babbling about how bad it is or anything like that, but frankly, it just doesn’t do much for me.

You know, I realized that as of late this might as well be the “Bela Blog.” Over the past year, he’s popped up here via Superhost’s Dracula broadcast, Son Of Ghoul’s Plan 9 broadcast, my SPN Network post, even that recent Mill Creek movie set review and just last week in the previously-linked Gene Shalit Wolf Man VHS post. Even a few stray times beyond all that, too. Bela definitely has a presence here.

This wasn’t a conscious decision on my part, though. I can only write about what I’m sufficiently fired up over, and it was sheer coincidence that Bela Lugosi figured into so much of it. Not that I’m complaining; I’m the first to admit I’m a big fan of his. Bela, Boris Karloff and Vincent Price – if a movie features them, it doesn’t matter how good or bad it is, their involvement is enough to garner at least some interest on my part (The Human Monster included). Such is my admiration for them both as actors and as a horror/sci-fi junkie.

In this one, Bela plays one Dr. Orloff, an insurance salesman that kills clients for their policies and then collects the big money. Probably not exactly a foolproof plan, but no one ever said evil guys are always rational. Orloff also masquerades as a fella named Dearborn, who runs a home for the blind, a locale that figures prominently into the plot.

I think a large part of my lukewarm feelings towards this movie stem from the fact that it just isn’t very “horrific” in a typical-of-the-genre sense. Bela doesn’t create any creatures, there’s nothing supernatural about it (it’s The Human Monster, after all), and again, I find the proceedings verrry dry. I’ll take Bela turnin’ himself into an ape guy any day.

Bela Lugosi’s performance aside (I may not be a fan of the film itself, but he does play his role well), the sole aspect of the movie I find genuinely interesting is Wilfred Walter’s monstrous, blind baddie, Jake, who you’re helpfully seeing above. Jake is a resident of Dearborn’s home for the blind, and does the killing for Dr. Orloff. He certainly does look scary, and to the credit of the filmmakers, there are some terrific shots of him. He doesn’t really save the film for me, but he certainly makes it more bearable.

Look at that, Amvest felt the need to watermark the movie at one point, as if someone was interested in stealing their silly lil’ flick.

Given that this is a budget video release of a public domain movie, no one should ever expect a pristine film print, and the condition of this The Human Monster certainly lives up (down?) to those expectations. It’s dusty, dirty, scratchy, but yet, thanks to the LP recording speed, relatively sharp and clear. It could have looked so much worse, so that aspect was a pleasant surprise.

A decidedly less-pleasant surprise was in store for me though, and it was this surprise that concluded the tape. According to this thread over at the Our Favorite Horror Hosts forum, there was no set recording-mode that these Grampa Presents tapes would be produced in. Could be EP/SLP, could LP (such as this one), could be SP. I have seen pictures of Grampa tapes with an SP sticker affixed to the back (this one here), so SP and LP tapes are definitely out there, and I assume EP/SLP ones were released as well.

And that brings us to that eyebrow-raising conclusion: it appears that despite the LP-recording speed used for this copy, there was only enough tape for an EP/SLP recording. You know what that means, don’t you? The tape ran out and ended before the actual movie did!

That’s right, no stunning conclusion to The Human Monster, and more distressingly, no Grampa outro. My reaction to this revelation was something akin to “AW C’MON!” though I don’t recall my exact words. I wasn’t real happy, though.

Don’t let that dissuade you from picking up a copy of this video or any other in the series, though (unless I’m going after it too, in which case kindly back off pal). I doubt this is representative of the Grampa Presents tapes in general; my guess is it’s merely what many would term a “defective video.” Like I said earlier, I’m guessing Amvest’s quality control was a bit lax. I don’t mind discovering this, but I do kinda mind spending $20+ to find out.

And yet, in the overall picture, the incomplete recording doesn’t really bother me that much. I mean, yes, of course I’d prefer the whole thing (duh!), but the rarity of the tape coupled with that perfect slice of late-1980s cheapie VHS essence, that recording snafu is almost overruled by all of that. In fact, it actually kinda adds to that late-1980s cheapie VHS essence! It’s not an ideal situation, obviously, but I try to look at things like this as glass-half-full.

Honestly, even though I personally didn’t have any entries in this video series until this one, it still serves as a nostalgia piece for me. It absolutely reminds me of the budget tapes I had growing up, warts and all. Heck, this just feels like something I would have (should have?) found at D&K in the old State Road shopping center. I never did, of course, but I’d like to think I would have snapped it up with a fervor comparable to what I feel going after these nowadays. Maybe even more fervor back then, because this was all so new to me at the time.

I’ve got a lot of tapes. Thousands and thousands, to be frank. When it comes to just the prerecorded stuff, I’ve got so much and have crossed so many personal “wants” off my list over the years that it’s hard to get really, genuinely stoked over a tape. It happens from time to time though, and in the case of not only this tape but all of the Grampa Presents tapes, well, I got the hunger. I don’t care if the intros and outros are essentially the same for each one, I don’t care if the quality is lacking, I don’t even care that this tape doesn’t even play all the way through. The bottom line is it’s Al “Grampa” Lewis, it’s horror hosting, it’s obscure, and it’s just plain cool. I want more, and I’m determined to get more!

And with that, this Halloween post comes to a close. Have a fantastic, fun and safe Halloween, everybody! See y’all after Ghoulardifest 2015!