Videodrome appears in an aspect ratio of approximately 1.85:1 on this Blu-ray Disc. Despite the film’s age and fairly low budget, it looked quite good here.
I noticed no issues related to sharpness. Much of the movie took place in semi-dim interiors, but those mustered good clarity, and scenes with greater light were even more concise and distinctive. Overall definition appeared solid. No issues with jagged edges or shimmering materialized, and I also noticed no edge haloes or noise reduction issues. Source flaws were absent; the movie could be grainy, but that was appropriate.
While not a flick with consistently vivid hues, the movie’s colors satisfied. Occasional instances of lively tones emerged, and those looked solid. Overall, the colors left a positive impression. Blacks were deep and tight, while shadows came across as clear and natural. I felt quite pleased with this presentation.
As for the monaural soundtrack of Videodrome, it proved less scintillating. However, that was expected, and the audio worked fine nonetheless. Speech occasionally betrayed a little edginess, but mostly the lines came across as reasonably natural and distinctive. Effects also showed some minor distortion, at least for the louder elements. Most of the pieces sounded clear and accurate, though.
The synthesizer score of Videodrome remained low-key and muted through most of the movie. It presented good definition and clarity, especially in the lower registers that dominated the somber music. Don’t expect fireworks from the film’s audio and you’ll be satisfied with this good soundtrack.
How did the picture and sound of this Criterion release compare with those of the 2004 DVD? Audio seemed similar, but visuals showed the expected bump up in quality. As usual, the Blu-ray offered greater definition and vivacity. This release offered a good upgrade in visuals.
All of the DVD’s extras repeat here, so we find two separate audio commentaries. The first presents remarks from director David Cronenberg and director of photography Mark Irwin, both of whom sit separately for this edited piece. The pair cover the movie well and go into a mix of useful topics. We learn about the film’s origins, influences and references as well as casting and working with the actors.
Cronenberg offers nice notes about the issues that came with Debbie Harry’s status as a neophyte actress, while Irwin lets us know lighting challenges he faced with her. The director tells us about Woods’ paranoia on the set and how it affected the production. Irwin also goes into other visual design concerns and some impressions of the sets and general atmosphere during the film. Cronenberg tosses out more than a few solid production notes but also gets into the movie’s subtext as well as his place in filmmaking. The piece moves briskly and provides a very useful and compelling examination of the movie.
In the second commentary, we find remarks from actors James Woods and Deborah Harry. As with the first track, both sit separately for an edited piece. Woods dominates this consistently involving chat. Both go over their impressions of Cronenberg, why they did the film, and various experiences on the set.
They talk about the flick’s place among others from its genre as well as a mix of challenges. They cover the production nicely, and Woods seems particularly good at delving into the story’s nuances and subtext. It’s another informative and lively discussion.
A short film directed by Cronenberg in 2000, Camera lasts six minutes, 40 seconds and also features Videodrome’s Les Carlson. It’s a typically odd little Cronenberg piece that says something about the artificial nature of filmmaking.
A 27-minute and 39-second program called Forging the New Flesh includes a mix of movie clips, behind the scenes materials, and interviews. We hear from Cronenberg (from 1981), Woods (1981), video effects supervisor - and “Flesh” producer - Michael Lennick, physical effects supervisor Frank Carere, makeup effects crew Bill Sturgeon, makeup effects supervisor Rick Baker, and location manager David Coatsworth. They talk a little about the project’s background, Baker’s history, the nature of the crew, impressions of Cronenberg, and specifics about the movie’s various effects. “Flesh” goes through the material in a rather dry manner that makes it less than scintillating. However, it covers the information concisely, and the shots from the production help make it all the more useful.
Similar topics show up in Effects Men. The segments include audio remarks from Rick Baker and Michael Lennick. The piece alternates between the pair and lasts about 19 minutes, 28 seconds altogether. Since Baker and Lennick already discussed the nuts and bolts of their work for Videodrome in the prior piece, here they mainly talk about general subjects. They let us know about working with Cronenberg and other issues connected to movie effects. They cover the topics concisely and provide a nice examination of their fields.
Bootleg Video splits into three areas. Each presents video material shot for the film, and we see the pieces in their entirety here. We get “Samurai Dreams” (four minutes, 45 seconds), “Transmissions from Videodrome” (7:14), and “Helmet-Cam” (5:03). (The latter’s actually test footage.) It’s cool to get a closer look at the pieces. Each segment comes with commentaries. “Samurai” includes two: one from Cronenberg and one from Irwin and Lennick. That pair accompanies “Transmissions”, while only Lennick shows up for “Helmet-Cam”. Cronenberg chats about ratings issues, while the others discuss various production topics connected to the snippets in question. The commentaries help flesh out the material.
New to the Blu-ray, an Effects Visual Essay runs 19 minutes, seven seconds. It displays a montage of photos from the movie shoot as well as some publicity images. Why isn’t this just presented as a still gallery? I don’t know, but it has some good shots.
Shot in 1982, Fear on Film presents a 25-minute and 40-second “round-table” discussion. It includes Cronenberg plus fellow directors John Carpenter and John Landis. They talk about issues like influences and impressions of other horror flicks, the boundaries of what’s acceptable to show onscreen and censorship, the potential impact of movies, various themes, working with makeup effects, and some specifics of the men’s movies. On their own, each of the directors can be interesting, so it’s especially cool to get all three together. They cover a mix of good subjects in a frank and informative manner during this very good program.
In addition to three trailers, we get The Making of Videodrome, a seven-minute and 49-second featurette created in 1982. It mixes movie bits, footage from the set, and interviews with Cronenberg, Woods, Baker, and Deborah Harry. They cover general topics connected to the movie and don’t tell us much, though the behind the scenes material is good to see.
Within the Gallery, we discover 40 images the encompass posters, lobby cards, other ads and production shots.
Finally, the package includes a 40-page booklet. It starts with a Village Voice article called “Make Mine Cronenberg” by Carrie Rickey and then gives us “Medium Cool: Reflections on Videodrome” from Tim Lucas. Gary Indiana’s “That Slithery Sense of Unreality” ends the set. It’s a typically excellent booklet from Criterion.
With conspiracies, snuff films and all sorts of freaky stuff, Videodrome stands out as a weird piece of work. Happily, the efforts coalesce to create a challenging and vivid film. The Blu-ray offers very strong visuals plus unexceptional audio and a collection of useful supplements. This release provides a strong rendition of an unusual movie.
To rate this film, visit the original Criterion Collection review of VIDEODROME
