Distributor: Shout! Factory/Scream Factory
Release Date: October 28, 2014
MSRP: $29.93
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Film: C+ / Video: A- / Audio: B+ / Extras: A-

Clive Barker’s love for ornate monster effects precludes suspense in Nightbreed, which flashes sights of dancing, orgiastic creatures within its own, scrolling title. These demons belong to Midian, a world that fills the dreams of mechanic Aaron Boone (Craig Sheffer). His therapist, Dr. Decker (David Cronenberg, whose appearance elicits, in order, confusion, the delight of recognition, then more confusion), says these dreams are proof that Boone is responsible for a series of murders that, in fact, Decker committed. While the good doctor arranges for his patient to take the fall, Boone discovers that Midian is real, leading to an altercation with a monster that allows him to resurrect after cops shoot the patsy for Decker’s crimes.

That’s a lot of plot to pack into one paragraph, but the movie functions similarly, devoting its first 20 to 30 minutes crafting this elaborate overlap of slasher film, monster mash and old-fashioned noir before Boone returns as an accepted member of the underworld and everything suddenly takes a backseat to the effect. Barker likened the project to a horror variant of Star Wars, but it only seems interested in replicating that film’s Mos Eisley sequence, a super-concentrated burst of make-up wizardry. In this long-awaited, much-heralded director’s cut, the addition of more footage only draws out the film’s indulgence. Nowhere is this more apparent than when Boone’s girlfriend, Lori (Anne Bobby), heads to Midian in search of her lover. What follows is a good half-hour of listless wandering through caves for the primary purpose of showing off various creatures who make half-hearted attempts to grab her but seem to almost be aware of the camera and devote most of their energy to posing for their close-up.

Buried within that patience-testing slog is the film’s true theme, that of the monsters as unfairly persecuted outcasts from a normal world that’s violently protective of the status quo. It’s an interesting twist, and opens up an exciting final act that pits a horde of zealous humans against the outnumbered Midian denizens, who not only look different but sport their own unique combat styles. By openly throwing his sympathies behind the monsters, Barker avoids the usual double-talk of creature features that demand we fear the very beasts who sell the movies, and for all the carnage of the last 45 minutes, the battle scenes are giddy precisely for hoping the demons win.

There is a virtuousness to Barker’s enthusiasm, replacing (most of) the shocks of seeing monsters emerge from dark crevices in shock medium close-ups with full views that betray an affection that may ultimately be more unsettling than a mere scare. The film is often funny, especially when a man who tears his face off in a mad attempt to enter Midian later appears, strips of flesh permanently gone, behaving as the fast-talking, ingratiating new member of the fraternity, magnanimously showing the place to Boone despite getting there a few hours earlier. Still, for all the talk of this director’s cut restoring the true meaning of the film from its butchered rendition as a slasher constantly getting off on tangents, Nightbreed continues to suffer from its numerous impulses, with Decker’s slasher storyline not remotely fitting into the broader narrative, especially in its central role of kickstarting the plot whenever it flags. But for all its excesses, the film is still enjoyable, and the make-up effects truly are impressive. Just because it’s being sold as a lost classic doesn’t mean it’s not worth watching because it fails to live up to the hype; as an unexpected plea for tolerance (not to mention a love story), it’s a lot of fun.

A/V

Given how overly scrubbed and waxy some Shout! products look even when struck from the best materials, the image quality of this disc is astonishing. Not only are the film’s frequent transitions from dark to light and color swaps from cool “human world” tones to Midian’s humid browns handled without any inconsistencies, the alternate takes and cut footage looks so good it’s nearly impossible to tell where the theatrical cut ends and the long-forgotten material begins. Strong black levels and healthy grain complete the excellent transfer. The lossless audio perhaps has less in the way of nuance, but that’s what you get when you have a score from Danny Elfman in his prime. The surround channels dissipate eerie background noises, but even those take a backseat to the full dimension of the combative strings, children’s choirs and other bombast that belongs to the composer’s greatest period, before this much-too-muchness slid into treacle and pointless busyness.

Extras

Clive Barker clearly has a great deal of affection and gratitude for Mark Miller, co-head of Barker’s production company and the leader of Nightbreed’s restoration, and it shines through in the equal footing that the artist regularly gives the man in these extras. Press “Play” to start the movie and you get a 5-minute introduction from the pair that gives equal speaking time to both, and the two also share a commentary track. Their talk often eschews deeper discussion of the film’s technical aspects for Barker’s fond anecdotes of his actors or his bitter memories over losing control of the film. It’s an endearing commentary, filled with warmth and humor between the two friends and Barker’s sweet awe at seeing how good the cut footage looks in the restoration.

“Tribes of the Moon” fills out the information gaps in the informal commentary with 72 minutes of deep-background contributions from cast and crew detailing how they met Barker, their chemistry with other actors, the shoot, and more. Sometimes these exceptionally long making-ofs feel like overkill when paired to cult objects, but what sets this documentary apart is how much time is spent on genuinely relevant details of conception and execution over mere cult impact; it’s as if the film really were, in concept and reception, the “Star Wars of horror” that Barker envisioned, and thus studied as if it were an essential cultural artifact. The disc also includes briefer but more focused docs on the film’s make-up effects, as well as the second-unit shooting. A theatrical trailer rounds out the stand-alone version.

Overall

Clive Barker’s monster parade benefits and suffers from the added length of this freshly restored director’s cut, but the film’s surprisingly sentimental core and the disc’s combination of superior image and audio with copious extras makes this one of Scream Factory’s best releases to date.