Deathdream

War changes people. It's an obvious statement, but one that has rarely been treated as intriguingly as this 1974 horror-drama which updates the old story of The Monkey's Paw to the present as a young man returns home from Vietnam, live undead. (Though this is more Mandatory Suicide, if we're quoting Slayer lyrics…)

An ordinary middle-American, middle-class family, the Brooks sent their son Andy to fight for his country, much as father Charles had dutifully done 30 years before.

Except Vietnam wasn't WWII, the reasons for the conflict and the lines between good and evil impossibly blurred.

Maybe this has something to do with the fact Andy's parents haven't had a letter from him in a while. It's certainly a preferable interpretation to the alternative, that he has died at the front. Then the official letter comes…

Defiantly, the Brooks resolutely refuse to believe Andy is dead. Their faith is proven correct; their prayers answered when he turns up shortly after, seemingly alive and well.

He's acting somewhat strange, sure, but nothing that can't be explained away, particularly as far as his mother is concerned.

As the days pass and as Andy continues to behave oddly, culminating in his attacking one of the neighbourhood kids and strangling the family dog, the fault lines in the Brooks family turn into cracks.

And this is even before they've learned the truth, that Andy is in fact dead alive and can only sustain himself through regular infusions of blood…

Intelligently written, well acted and skilfully directed, the main questions that emerges from watching Deathdream are simple ones:

Why are it and its creators Bob Clark and Alan Ormsby not better known? Why are they not acknowledged up there with Wes Craven, George A Romero, John Carpenter and Tobe Hooper as prime exponents of the "American Nightmare" movie of the 1970s?

For the simple truth is that, in terms of ideas, writing, direction, performances and just about every other aspect of the film gestalt you might care to name – an effectively edgy avant-gardist score by Carl Zittrer, quality make up and special effects by Tom Savini in one of his first credits, to name two – Deathdream is on a par with these filmmakers work.

Taking Romero, for instance, we find that, while it is true that Deathdream obviously follows in the wake of Night of the Living Dead in bringing the Vietnam war "back home" it prefigures Martin in presenting a thoroughly modern vampire who is as likely to use a syringe on his victims as his canines, and in focussing on domestic drama as much as shocks.

Or, taking the performances, we have to consider that both John Marley – the father – and Lynn Carlin – the mother – had appareared in John Cassavetes' Faces, indicating their strength as actors; it is just that the likes of Cassavetes – and indeed this film – emphasise a different acting 'truth' to the Hollywood mainstream.

Nor was Deathdream a one-off, given that Ormsby also directed Deranged – a lower-key, less sensationalistic take on Ed Gein's crimes than Hooper's The Texas Chain Saw Massacre – and Clark Black Christmas – a transposition of the Italian giallo to North America, predating Carpenter's Halloween. (Likewise, it took other directors, such as Sean S. Cunningham and Sean Miner's with the House series another decade to openly engage with Vietnam in the way Ormsby and Clark do here.)

Maybe it was that the film-makers didn't appear sufficiently committed to the genre, with Clark subsequently directing the likes of Porkys; a film that, however successful in box office terms, can hardly be singled out as an example of 'good' or 'virtuous' cinema.

It's not auteurism – watching Deathdream and Black Christmas, you see the same eerie tracking shots on a house that "significance" could be interpreted into, for instance…

It is true that horror suffers from ghettoisation. So, maybe, it's that…

But then, how many of 'us' have gone to see Craven's Music from the Heart? Okay, perhaps a few hands are raised. And how many of us evaluated it on its own merits? Rather fewer, I suspect…

So, that can't be the (whole) answer. Perhaps it was the distribution pattern of the film? Or the variety of titles – Dead of Night, The Night Andy Came Home, The Veteran, Whispers etc. – by which it has been known? Or just that no-one really picked it up on its resonances at the time? Or that – more worryingly – the critics/sponsors – had gotten 'their' works to promote in that closed circle jerk way? (Cronenberg being a case in point here, his early career perhaps benefitting from the boosterism of some Canadian critics eager to demonstrate the value of 'their' cinema against the then extant 'official' version.)

Whatever, its low-budget limitations accepted – some awkward lighting in the Brooks household, for instance, with shadows that shouldn't be there – this is a seriously entertaining, subtext-rich film that should be wider known…

This is another one of those superlative Blue Underground releases.

The film transfer is sourced from a negative, such that the 1.85:1 widescreen enhanced transfer looks as good as it likely ever will, to the extent of revealing dodgy lighting and effects in the original.

The extras comprise highly illuminating, forthright commentaries with Clark and Ormsby, both moderated by David Gregory and filled with detail, reflection and anecode; two ten-minute featurettes with Richard Backus (Andy) and Tom Savini; alternate opening and closing sequences; the theatrical trailer and a poster and stills gallery.

There's also a little easter egg of Ormsby showing some of the film's props. To access it you go onto the extras menu, highlight "Commentary" and pressing the left button on your player/remote control, bringing up a hidden link, "Deathdream". (Giving credit where it's due, this information comes from Terror Australis.)

Finally, I'll leave the enigma of "A black cat with a red bird in its mouth" for you to discover yourself…