Magic, Myth & Mutilation: The Micro-Budget Cinema of Michael J. Murphy, 1967–2015

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The will states that Vicky will only inherit her grandmother's money if she keeps the house and lives in it for 11 months of each year. From the viewpoint of someone with a love of cinema in all of its guises, this is one of the finest Blu-ray releases I've ever encountered, and just has to be one of the most complete in existence.

A largely structureless collection of behind the scenes footage, fascinating for Murphy's microbudget working methods, particularly the watering can used to create the effect of rain in front of the camera. Murphy reveals that some of the dialogue was re-recorded in post to improve the acoustics, worries that an essentially silly premise is undermined by sequences that take it too seriously, winces at the memory of difficult to film scenes, and says of a lock used to keep the heavily muscled Dan from escaping, "That lock is so flimsy it I don't think that would stop a chihuahua trying to break in. screens of production stills, posters, video and DVD covers, and even competition programme clippings for the films included on this disc. Alternative opening titles and closing credits for the film whose pixelated look suggests that they were created digitally for the film's first DVD release. I'd have trouble working out exactly what the story was from this disconnected assembly of shots and lines of dialogue.But for the sake of this utterly knackered reviewer, can you leav Some oft-repeated elements are revealed in the special features to be signature traits that Murphy was fully aware of, and include a fondness for shots filmed through the flames of firelight and the use of Gaelic fonts for titles and credits, and a complete disregard for the 180 degree rule. Boasting all-new 2K restorations from archival 16mm and 8mm elements, as well as a number of new digital captures from Murphy’s personal tape masters, this extensive retrospective of the obsessive auteur’s work is bolstered by a wealth of bonus features, including surviving fragments from lost works, and a 120-page book, all of which provides the definitive account of the weird and wonderful worlds of Britain’s great unheralded DIY filmmaker. Credibility is stretched like loose elastic here, but Murphy is clearly having a ball staging cheapjack takes on a range of horror works, as the drama is repeatedly put on hold so that Alistair can watch tapes of movies featuring those on whom he intends to wreak his wrath.

Interesting to see the actors still shaping their characters, but I'm guessing that there will be few who watch the whole thing. When out walking one day, however, she finds herself in the woodland lair of Alexandro Constantino, a masked local legend who requests that she remain with him to help break the curse under which he has been placed. Director Murphy and lead actor Judith Holding share their recollections of shooting Skare and poke fun at each other and themselves along the way.

With no-one on the island willing to come near a house that they believe is haunted, the couple advertise in England and secure the services of young Liz (Carol Aston). Murphy is so entertaining and so full of life here that is seems inconceivable that he had fewer than four weeks to live when this was filmed. When work delays his father's arrival, Terry is able to spend some time alone with Alex and work on his latest story, but he seems to be planning something sinister. Murphy says of the optical effects, "When it works, it looks good, but it doesn't always work," then usefully outlines why such effects are harder to pull off effectively on film than on video. The ending left me with a slew of questions about the scenes that precede it, and my familiarity with one particular prop did foreshadow a later reveal.

Runnings times given are for the version included in this set, which in some cases is considerably shorter than the original screener length (therse are listed in the accompanying book) and any added introductory captions.For me, this proved a fascinating and often surprising journey, with the films I expected to like the most overshadowed at seemingly every turn by ones I would not have expected to have warmed to so readily. He later has a dig at this good natured criticism when he says, "I must stop poking fun at this," largely because he doesn't want to belittle the work that others put into it.