Strangers Kiss (BLU-RAY)
The director of a 1950s film noir pushes his novice leads to fall in love to give his film "heat," while the leading lady's mobster boyfriend stews.
Hollywood. 1955. Faced with two inexperienced actors, the director (Peter Coyote, E.T.) of Strange and Dangerous (film-within-a-film) encourages the leading lady (Victoria Tennant, L.A. Story) and leading man (Blaine Novak, They All Laughed) to fall in love in "real life" so as to provide the "heat" needed for the inner film's romance. The actress' possessive gangster boyfriend (Richard Romanus, Mean Streets), who happens to be the film's financier, is kept in the dark about this love triangle. When the financier finally realizes what is going on, he flies off in a violently jealous rage. The suspense and tension draws to a tingling close with a strange twist at the ending. Intrigued by Stanley Kubrick's early cinema career, particularly the creation of the low-budget crime drama Killer's Kiss, Novak and director Matthew Chapman (Heart of Midnight) crafted a fictional, behind-the-scenes look at the making of a similarly modest production. Called "a glowing homage to 1950s melodrama set in the film world" by Variety, Strangers Kiss achieves impressive period verisimilitude. Backing the main players are Dan Shor (Mike's Murder), Linda Kerridge (Fade to Black) and former World Welterweight Champion boxer Carlos Palomino. Famed saxophonist Gato Barbieri's jazzy score adds to the film's noirish mood. Out of circulation for decades, Strangers Kiss has now been restored in 4K from its original 35mm internegative for its worldwide Blu-ray premiere.
Bonus Materials
- Image Gallery
- Newly recorded video interviews with cast and crew
- Theatrical trailer
- Audio commentary by Walter Chaw
- Booklet with essay by Peter Tonguette (first pressing only)
- Limited edition slipcover with new front and back artwork by Jacob Phillips (first pressing only)
- Double-sided wrap with legacy artwork
- New 4K Restoration from the film's original 35mm internegative
- Video essay by Chris O'Neill