The Paul Morrissey Collection: Flesh/Heat/Trash [4 Discs]

MOVIE DESCRIPTION:

Joe Dallesandro's career really took off as a result of these three landmark films from acclaimed director Paul Morrissey who brought to the screen raw and shameless looks at life on the streets. Includes Flesh (Patti D'Arbanville. 1968/105 min.), Trash (Holly Woodlawn. 1970/110 min.) and Heat (Sylvia Miles. 1972/102 min.). Includes a bonus disc loaded with extras. 4 DVDs. Color/NR.

DVD FEATURES:

• Region: 1
• Number of Discs: 4
• Aspect Ratio: 1.33:1 (Pre-1954 Standard)
• Audio: Dolby Digital Mono
• Screen: Color
• Features:
  • Bonus DVD: "Factory Days - Paul Morrissey Remembers the Sixties" feature-length documentary (producer, co-editor Adam Yeremian; associate producer Lucio Retacchi; director, co-editor Brian Chamberlain
  • 6-page insert booklet

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

• Cast:

  
       Joe Dallesandro - Joe
       Sylvia Miles - Sally
       Holly Woodlawn - Holly
       Geraldine Smith - Joe's wife
       John Christian - Young Man
       Jane Forth - Jane
       Michael Sklar - Welfare Investigator
       Geri Miller - Go-Go Dancer
       Barry Brown
       Candy Darling - Blonde On Sofa
       Andrea Feldman - Rich Girl
       Patti D'Arbanville - Gerry's Girlfriend
       Johnny Putnam - Boy From Yonkers
       Jackie Curtis - Redhead On Sofa
       Bruce Pecheur - Jane's Husband
       Louis Waldon - David
       Diane Podlewski - Holly's Sister
       Geri Miller - Geri
       Ray Vestal
       Maurice Braddell - The Artist
       Pat Ast
       Andy Warhol
       Andrea Feldman

• Director:

  Paul Morrissey

• Producer:

  Andy Warhol

• Screenwriter:

  Paul Morrissey

• Screen Story:

  Paul Morrissey

• Cinematographer:

  Paul Morrissey

• Composer (Music Score):

  John Cale

• Editor:

  Jed Johnson, Lana Jokel, Paul Morrissey

• Sound/Sound Designer:

  Jed Johnson

REVIEWS:

• As with many of Paul Morrissey's films, Flesh is definitely not for everyone. Leaving aside the film's avant-garde nature as a reason for some to feel excluded, there's an extreme abundance of the titular subject on display here, most of it male and a great deal located south of the abdominal equator -- so anyone with an aversion to sex and/or nudity should simply not even bother. Those who prefer a strong narrative, clearly defined motivations and themes, precise structural details in the screenplay, polished dialogue, Oscar-calibre performances, swift pacing, razor-sharp editing, and/or professional-level sound and camerawork can also look elsewhere. For the minority that's left, however, Flesh is likely to be something of a revelation -- a revelation of exactly what is hard to say, but those tuned in to Morrissey's peculiar wave will likely find the extreme lengthy shots strangely hypnotic; the jarring jump cuts exciting; the largely improvised dialogue enlivening, amusing and revealing; the naturalistic acting style (especially of the naively charismatic Joe Dallesandro) fascinating and compelling; and the entire atmosphere of alienation, melancholy, and aimlessness surprisingly touching. While Flesh lacks almost all of the qualities that make a good film, it still is a unique and hard-to-forget experience that almost unconsciously makes the viewer wonder if anyone can ever really be at home in his own flesh. ~ Craig Butler, Rovi
• In Heat, Paul Morrissey provides a backdrop of faded Hollywood for his cast to satirize. While some attention is paid to the faded glamour of old Hollywood and the finale is an obvious parody, Heat is less a tribute to Sunset Boulevard than yet another ode to Joe Dallesandro. Like in Flesh, Trash, and Flesh for Frankenstein, Morrissey's camera worships the frequently undressed Dallesandro, who is besieged by the sexual attentions of desperate women, but couldn't care less. He's on the make, and while sex is all around him, it never seems to touch him. Or does it? One could say that Dallesandro's character in these films is a mirror of Warhol -- cold, distant, asexual -- but that would miss the point. Dallesandro's eyes gave him away, and while he may not have responded sexually to all of the adulation that came his way, one look at his eyes revealed that he was hurting inside. This was a hustler with a heart rubbed raw by life's harsh reality. When one looked in Warhol's eyes, there was nothing there. This is also the paradox of Morrissey's films for Warhol. They're supposed to be jokes, but when considering the fates of many Factory Superstars (including Andrea Feldman), there's not much to laugh about. Heat does have some truly funny moments -- Eric Emerson's poolside self-abuse, Ast's massage scene with Dallesandro, and Sylvia Miles' wonderfully schizoid turn as Sally Todd. But it's also a difficult film to watch at times -- overlong, shrill, frequently boring, and it could be argued that Morrissey and company exploited the conditions that ultimately led to Feldman's suicide. Still, although it isn't the best of Morrissey's films for Warhol (that would be Trash), Heat is probably the most palatable introduction to his unusual body of work. ~ Robert Firsching, Rovi
• Trash, which follows Flesh in the Paul Morrissey-Andy Warhol-Joe Dallesandro trilogy, is every bit as off-putting as its predecessor. Again, those who have an aversion to extensive nudity and frank sex should leave the premises before the first frame, and should be joined by those who cannot stomach graphic depictions of drug use. Trash, however, is a step up from Flesh in terms of its technical side; while still far from "professional," its camerawork and sound are more controlled and purposeful. It also gives the impression of featuring a more coherent plot, but in truth it is still a series of vignettes loosely tied to a motivating factor. However, there is considerably more action in Trash. There is also a magnificent chemistry between Dallesandro and Holly Woodlawn, who gives a love-it-or-hate-it performance that is full of bizarre life. Dallesandro is once again a low-key performer, at times irritating, but the guilelessness of his performance is perfect in the context of the film. The general level of acting is also appreciably higher than in Flesh, with memorable turns from Michael Sklar and Andrea Feldman. Many will be turned off by the film, but those cultists who embrace it do so honestly -- there's a raw fascination to the film, a method to Morrissey's madness. He's not interested in creating a "good" film; he's interested in creating a personal film that bears an indelible stamp, and in that he succeeds brilliantly. ~ Craig Butler, Rovi