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Deaf Crocodile Films is thrilled to announce it’s releasing a new restoration of Hungarian director József Gémes’ rarely-seen animated medieval epic HEROIC TIMES (DALIÁS IDŐK) from 1984. Based on the epic poem The Toldi Trilogy by famed 19th century Hungarian writer János Arany, HEROIC TIMES has a unique visual style combining gorgeous oil paintings and classic hand-drawn 2-D animation. In the vein of GAME OF THRONES and EXCALIBUR, HEROIC TIMES paints an often bloody and brutal portrait of the supposedly “heroic” age of chivalry in the early Middle Ages and the price one man pays to uphold the codes of honor. The film has been painstakingly restored from the original camera negative by the NFI – National Film Institute-Film Archive of Hungary for its first-ever U.S. release. “HEROIC TIMES is a visually stunning gem of hand-drawn European animation with a breathtaking range of colors and a painterly style that is almost unheard-of in Eighties animation,” says Deaf Crocodile Films’ Co-Founder and Head of Distribution Dennis Bartok. “There’s relatively little dialogue in the film and most of the narrative unfolds through this incredible blend of paintings that the camera pans across and traditional animation. Stylistically, the only film I can think of that used this technique so well was Eiichi Yamamoto’s Japanese anime BELLADONNA OF SADNESS – which ironically, Craig Rogers and I were involved with restoring and re-releasing back at Cinelicious Pics. I think fans of films like Ralph Bakshi’s underrated version of THE LORD OF THE RINGS and John Boorman’s superb EXCALIBUR will be blown away by Gémes’ vision of the Middle Ages in HEROIC TIMES.” Says Craig Rogers, Deaf Crocodile’s Co-Founder and Head of Post-Production and Restoration: “Jealousy, murder, betrayal -- they were Heroic Times! We find time and again artists creating brilliantly subversive works under the yoke of communism. HEROIC TIMES is yet another example (see also: ZEROGRAD).” “This poem was obligatory to read and learn by heart when I was in school myself,” remembers György Ráduly, Director of the National Film Institute-Film Archive in Hungary which restored the film for this release. “And because it was so famous, there was very little censorship of the material. … The message of this epic poem is about somebody who is just, who is strong and who is fighting for his rights against dark powers. So the Communist system liked it, in a way, because they saw it as being about someone small who is fighting against the larger powers for justice. I think that’s how the film was permitted to go into production.” Enjoy the new trailer...

Deaf Crocodile Films, in association with distribution partner Comeback Company, is thrilled to announce they will release a new restoration of the late 1960s Czech occult/horror anthology PRAGUE NIGHTS (PRAŽSKÉ NOCI), featuring episodes directed by Miloš Makovec, Jiří Brdečka and Evald Schorm. In the vein of horror anthologies like Mario Bava’s BLACK SABBATH, the long-unseen PRAGUE NIGHTS is a gorgeous and supernatural vision of ancient and modern Prague: caught between Mod Sixties fashions and nightmarish Medieval catacombs, and filled with Qabbalistic magic, occult rituals, clockwork automatons and giant golems. (In Czech with English subtitles.) “PRAGUE NIGHTS is one of the rarest and most mysterious anthologies from the late Sixties,” says Deaf Crocodile Films’ Co-Founder and Head of Distribution Dennis Bartok. “It was the brainchild of animator, screenwriter and director Jiří Brdečka, who conceived of the film and directed the most amazing of its three episodes, ‘The Last Golem,’ set in the medieval Jewish community in Prague. The film was actually in production during the Soviet invasion of Prague in 1968, although the movie takes place centuries and worlds away from the tanks rolling through the streets of the city. It’s been something of a lost film for decades with only brief clips available online, so we’re incredibly excited to be working with Irena at Comeback Company and the Národní filmový archív to bring PRAGUE NIGHTS to the U.S. for the first time.” Says Craig Rogers, Deaf Crocodile’s Co-Founder and Head of Post-Production and Restoration: “Dennis has unearthed yet another forgotten gem! I’ve always had a fondness for anthology horror films (CREEPSHOW, TALES FROM THE CRYPT, etc). PRAGUE NIGHTS is in that same vein -- with the bonus of being produced in the swinging 60s!” Irena Kovarova of Comeback Company comments: “With this film, the American audience has a chance to sample genre cinema from Czechoslovakia, which doesn’t make it to these shores very often. PRAGUE NIGHTS exemplifies the breath of filmmaking in the country at that time. Dennis made a discovery of a film that even many Czechs (including myself) have never heard about before.” Synopsis: PRAGUE NIGHTS (PRAŽSKÉ NOCI), 1969, Czechoslovakia, 99 min. Dirs. Miloš Makovec, Jiří Brdečka and Evald Schorm. A stuffy middle-aged foreigner, a businessman named Fabricius (Miloš Kopecký), lonely and looking for a night’s diversion, finds it in the form of a mysterious blonde, Zuzana (Milena Dvorská). In an abandoned cemetery, she tells him three tales involving black magic and erotic obsession. In director Jiří Brdečka’s stunning “The Last Golem,” a young rabbi (Jan Klusák) struggles to fashion a massive, silent giant out of living clay – until he’s distracted by a mute servant girl (Lucie Novotná). Utterly hypnotic and dreamlike, set to a haunting chorus of ghostly voices, “The Last Golem” ranks with Fellini’s “Toby Dammit” in SPIRITS OF THE DEAD as one of the finest supernatural short tales of the decade. In the second episode, “Bread Slippers,” an 18th-century countess (Teresa Tuszyńska) indulges her passion for sweet cakes, adulterous affairs, and secret kisses with pretty maids – until a mysterious visitor (Josef Somr) whisks her away to an abandoned mansion, where Fate has a different kind of dance in store for her. In the final story, “Poisoned Poisoner,” a ravishing murderess in the Middle Ages dispatches lecherous merchants to the tune of upbeat 60s Czech Pop songs (scored by the renowned Zdeněk Liška). A true rediscovery for horror and fantasy fans and lovers of the occult, PRAGUE NIGHTS has been restored for its first-ever U.S. release by the Národní filmový archiv, Deaf Crocodile Films and Comeback Company. In Czech with English subtitles.

Deaf Crocodile has released a promotional video for the brand new restoration of Aleksandr Ptushko's classic film The Tale of Tsar Saltan (1967). The label will bring the film to Blu-ray later this year. Based on a famous fairy tale in verse by Alexander Pushkin, THE TALE OF TSAR SALTAN is one of director Aleksandr Ptushko's most sublime creations: a ravishingly beautiful fantasy about love, magic, betrayal and abandoned family. Driven from the Russian court by her sisters' scheming, the young Tsarina (Larisa Golubkina) is thrown into the sea in a cask with her infant son. Surviving the storm-tossed voyage, the mother and her now magically-adult son (Oleg Vidov) land on a remote island where he falls in love with a Swan Princess in human form (Kseniya Ryabinkina), and longs for reunion with his estranged father, Tsar Saltan (Vladimir Andreyev). Like his earlier masterpieces SAMPO and ILYA MUROMETS (also released by Deaf Crocodile), TSAR SALTAN is filled with breathtaking imagery: carved wooden lions who shed tears; peasants in pagan ritual masks, dancing in the snow; the treacherous faces of conspirators bathed in red candle glow like the witches in Macbeth. Ptushko's second-to-last feature, TSAR SALTAN has been gorgeously restored by Mosfilm and Deaf Crocodile for its first-ever Blu-ray release in the U.S., co-presented with Seagull Films. In Russian with English subtitles.

Vincent Canby May 11, 1991 More than 30 years ago, at an earlier Cannes Film Festival, Robert Mitchum received some unexpected publicity when a starlet with whom he was posing on the beach suddenly ripped off her bra to please the photographers. Last night a patrician Robert Mitchum, accompanied by his two grown sons, Jim and Chris, stood on the stage of the Palais du Festival and, making a gesture that seemed to be the beginning of a priest's blessing, announced that the 44th Cannes Film Festival was officially open. There was no danger of anyone's impulsively going topless, and not just because the weather was so cold and wet. If the initial selections are an indication of things to come, the 1991 festival promises to be one of the most serious in years. In the past, opening night selections have traditionally been big-budget crowd-pleasers, often American or, at least, films with English sound tracks shown out of the main competition to emphasize the difference between commerce and art. Chosen to inaugurate this year's show was David Mamet's somber, brooding "Homicide" about the identity crisis of a big-city police detective who is both American and Jewish. It's a film that would very much like to be considered for the top prize. Shown in competition today were two equally ambitious works of which more is certain to be heard after May 20, when the festival ends. The first is a quite remarkable new Soviet film, Karen Chakhnazarov's "Assassin of the Czar," a meditation on regicide that might not have been possible to make even two years ago. The second is Patrick Bouchitey's "Cold Moon" ("Lune Froide"), a French comedy based on two stories by Charles Bukowski, the American novelist, but played somewhat in the manner of Bertrand Blier's "Going Places." It is shot in appropriately seedy black and white and designed to affront all standards of good taste of the 1990's. In spite of a downpour that left black ties limp and complex hair arrangements lank, the opening night gala went on as scheduled. Among the stars designed to stud the event was Gina Lollobrigida, looking as if time had stopped in the mid 1960's. She received an ovation from the sopping wet crowds outside the Palais du Festival, as did Whoopi Goldberg, a member of this year's festival jury, and Roman Polanski, the jury president. Mr. Polanski, a first-rate newsmaker as well as a film director, is just back from the Soviet Union, where he was acting in a new movie, an experience he described to a local reporter as "very difficult." The studio where he was working, Mosfim, he said, "is a dump." "Nothing functions. Nobody wants to work." In the next 10 days, 21 films will be shown in the main competition, including Spike Lee's "Jungle Fever" Joel and Ethan Cohen's "Barton Fink," Irwin Winkler's "Guilty by Suspicion" and a second Soviet film, Roustam Khamdamov's "Anna Karamazova" with Jean Moreau. Editors’ Picks Akira Kurosawa's "Rhapsody in August" will be shown on Sunday out of competition. The 81-year-old Kurosawa has arrived at the point where he doesn't have to compete. Madonna's "Truth or Dare," scheduled to be screened at 11:30 P.M. on Monday, is out of competition, which could be another way of announcing that she is beyond compare. In addition to the main competition, there are several mini-festivals within the festival period. The one rather enigmatically called Un Certain Regard is programmed by the same people who handle the main festival, and is regarded as the place to put those films that, for one reason or another, do not fit into the main competition. This year it will present 19 films. The International Critics' Week will present an additional 15 films and the Directors' Fortnight 19. Running concurrently is the Film Market, where as many as 200 films are screened for possible purchase by distributors from around the world. Mr. Chakhnazarov's "Assassin of the Czar" is no mere costume epic in the woozy romantic style of "Nicholas and Alexandra." It is both a mystical and psychological exploration of the murder of the Romanov family as it is remembered by Timofeyev, a patient in a Soviet mental hospital today. The voice of a little girl named Eva has convinced Timofeyev that he is Yurovsky, the man who was in charge of the 1918 Romanov murders. Each year, on the anniversary of Yurovsky's death in 1938, the mental patient suffers the excruciating pains of the ulcers that killed the real-life assassin. To complicate matters a little more, the patient also remembers having assassinated Czar Alexander II in 1881. In the most matter-of-fact sort of way, the doctor who attempts to treat the patient finds himself instead playing out a psychodrama in which he is Czar Nicholas, searching the mind of the patient-assassin for the reasons behind the murder. The film is magnificent looking but, more important, it is acted with immense skill by Malcolm McDowell, the English actor, as Timofeyev and Yurovsky, and by Oleg Yankovsky, the Soviet actor who plays both the doctor and Czar Nicholas. Not since reaching his mature years has Mr. McDowell, still best known for "A Clockwork Orange," given such a fine, strong, crafty performance. He is so good that he triumphs over his dubbed Russian dialogue, which has not been too carefully synchronized with his lip movements. The film was shot in two versions, Russian and English, with the Russian version shown here to qualify the production as a Russian entry. Some people will probably view "Assassin of the Czar" as an example of bourgeois revisionism. It is not. It neither sentimentalizes the Romanovs nor makes beasts of their murderers. Rather, the film considers these momentous events as being part of the inevitable flow of history. The mood is sorrowful and questioning. At the press conference following the critics' screening, Mr. Chakhnazarov said that much of the historical data in the film is based on information contained in the diaries of Yurovsky, the Czar, the Czarina and others made available only two years ago. The narrative frame is obviously fictional. Mr. Bouchitey, known in France as an actor of great comic versatility, makes his directorial debut with "Cold Moon," which is actually a feature-length elaboration of a 26-minute short he directed and acted in two years ago. Not for nothing is the film dedicated to Patrick Dewaere, who co-starred with Gerard Depardieu in Mr. Blier's "Going Places" and "Get Out Your Handkerchiefs." "Cold Moon" is both abrasive and poetic, a bleakly funny tale of two layabout pals going nowhere with only the slightest awareness of what is happening to them. Simon and Dede exist on the edge of respectability, working as infrequently as possible and borrowing money when they have to. In the sequence that gives the film its principal shock value, they steal a corpse from the morgue as a practical joke. When it turns out to be that of a pretty young woman, Simon, the less aggressive of the two, falls in love with it. It isn't the necrophilia that causes alarm but the suggestion that in the world these men inhabit, the ideal woman is possibly a dead woman. They can only relate to an idealized inert representation. The film's implications will be debated for some time to come, not necessarily in a friendly fashion. That Mr. Bouchitey is here more persuasive as a director than as an actor has something to do with the character he plays. His Dede is overwhelmingly oppressive, someone who is always on, always laughing at his own jokes. Dede would be impossible to know for more than five minutes. He is thoroughly pleased by his own noisy charm, which eludes everyone except Simon, played by Jean-Francois Stevenin as a mild-mannered man of furious, inexpressible passions. The French members of the audience loved it. They were somewhat more reserved about "Homicide," which follows "House of Games" and "Things Change" as Mr. Mamet's third film as both the writer and the director. "Homicide" begins as a tough, bluntly funny police melodrama about Bobby Gold, a detective who specializes as a hostage negotiator. In the course of his job, Bobby (Joe Mantegna) becomes sidetracked on a case involving an old Jewish woman who runs a pawnshop. Before he knows it Bobby finds himself dealing with a band of possible Jewish terrorists. The plot gets uncharacteristically thick for Mr. Mamet. Bobby it seems, has never felt he belonged, not as a cop, not as an American, not as a Jew. "Homicide" is about Bobby's awakening. It's also about several different characters named Bobby Gold. The film becomes unaccountably murky as Bobby proceeds with the murder investigation. New aspects of his personality are not revealed; instead, they are arbitrarily imposed on Bobby by the writer to make his points. The fuzziness of the character is reflected in the performance by Mr. Mantegna, who was so splendid in the two earlier Mamet films. This time the actor appears to be more bewildered by his role than laid-back in it. W. H. Macy, another Mamet regular, is fine in a much easier role that includes a short final speech containing the most pungent and moving lines Mr. Mamet has ever written. Before the screening of "Homicide," the festival paid tribute to the 50th anniversary of Orson Welles's "Citizen Kane" by showing Welles's self-celebratory trailer for the film. He introduced all of the film's principal actors, though he himself remains an off-screen voice, sounding a lot like God, as we always think Him to be in the movies. Fascinating and right. A version of this article appears in print on May 11, 1991, Section 1, Page 11 of the National edition with the headline: Critic's Notebook; At Cannes, A Not-So-Festive Festival. Order Reprints

Andrew Mack EDITOR, NEWS; TORONTO, CANADA (@MACK_SANARCHY) Deaf Crocodile Films will be releasing Karen Shakhnazarov’s time-traveling historical mystery The Assassin of the Tsar, starring Malcolm McDowell this Spring. A mysterious and labyrinthine psychological drama in which the tormented chambers of a patient’s mind come to warp everything around him, even the folds of history itself. Timofeyev, a severe schizophrenic in a dreary Soviet mental hospital is convinced that, impossibly, he’s the killer of two Tsars: Alexander II in 1881 and Nicholas II in 1918. The sympathetic head of the hospital, Dr. Smirnov is determined to cure Timofeyev of his madness – but instead finds himself literally pulled back through time, inhabiting the ghosts of the past as they march towards their tragic destiny. Mosfilm has created a 2K restorations of the flick in both English and Russian languages. Shaknazarov shot the film simultaneously in English and Russian on two separate negatives which gives us both versions of the film in this upcoming release. Deaf Crocodile will be releasing it on Blu-ray and digital in the Spring. Check out the trailer below the full announcement. It's quite captivating to watch. Read the complete article at Screen Anarchy here.