Whatever happened to artistic film makers? Today everything is made according to a formula. If it's not a re-make then it's a sequel or worse, a prequel. Why can't a good film (or a bad one) just stand alone? Do we need four Mission: Impossible movies? How about seven Saw's? Does anybody really care about how the aliens killed off the crew before Ripley and company came across their distress signal? Of course not.
As a crusader for the original and creative, I'm not exactly a fan of adaptations however, 1968's Spirits Of The Dead is an exception, not a rule. Edgar Allan Poe and William Shakespeare have always been the go to guys for movie producers. Both are extremely well known and open for many different interpretations.
Roger Vadim, Louis Malle and Frederico Fellini each took a different Poe story and put their own spin on it. Vadim cast his then wife, Jane Fonda, in the title role of Metzengerstein. Her brother, Peter, played her cousin, her lover (confused? You wont be after this episode of...).
Alain Delon plays a double role in Louis Malle's William Wilson. Brigitte Bardot plays the woman who gives him a run for his money, literally.
Finally, Terrance Stamp brilliantly plays the title role in Toby Dammit, Frederico Fellini's "very loose interpretation" of Never Bet The Devil Your Head.
If you want to see something really good, check this out. If not, don't worry, mediocrity is being released on a weekly basis.
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