The sheer number of overseas films now available on DVD in the US is staggering, yet most DVD enthusiasts still identify those releases through traditional but narrow definitions of "foreign film."International cinema is commonly thought to fall into one of two categories: new releases of contemporary art house favorites like Amelie and Y Tu Mamá También, or Criterion Collection-type special editions of world cinema classics like the works of Bergman, Kurosawa, Buñuel, etc.. But when one is weary of investigating such admittedly worthy territory, the definition of "foreign film"should be expanded. Specifically, it should encompass the popular entertainment from other countries—the genre films. From musicals to horror films, westerns to slapstick, martial arts to swashbucklers, Mexican wrestling movies to (well, where can you really go after Mexican wrestling movies?), cineastes would do well to broaden their international horizons.

Such titles used to be the domain of ethnic specialty stores and "gray market"mail order video pirates with an adventurous clientele. But as the Internet-driven appetite for such cult fare grows, American DVD labels are taking advantage of the trend, marketing foreign genre movies to curious mainstream consumers (though VCI's release of several Mexican favorites is clearly directed at the Latin American community, as well).

While far from comprehensive, the following selections should provide some worthwhile viewing suggestions, all culled from recent US DVD releases.

India's film industry is the largest in the world, and their Bollywood productions—colorful, widescreen, musical spectaculars, often with three-hour-plus running times—have developed a considerable following among non-Indian populations in the US and the UK. Hundreds of Bollywood titles are now available on English-subtitled DVD in this country through Indian retailers (peruse www.indiaweekly.com for a great selection). If you want to walk into your local video store and sample the output of this remarkable industry, then the two new Bollywood titles issued by Columbia/TriStar—Lagaan (2001) and Mission Kashmir (2000)—should serve as an ideal introduction.

Lagaan was among the five Best Foreign Film contenders at this year's Oscars, and although its brief theatrical run didn't quite make it the Bollywood breakout hit some had been predicting, it's a hugely entertaining and emotionally affecting epic. And, despite a length of 225 minutes, star/producer Aamir Khan's film is an exemplary initiation into Bollywood. Yet, director Vidhu Vinod Chopra's Mission Kashmir is an even more exceptional film, integrating its romantic musical sequences into an action film framework; chronicling Islamic terrorism and the territorial war over Kashmir. With action set pieces as gorgeously stylized as the film's song interludes, Chopra's film is among Bollywood's best in recent years. Columbia's DVDs are both 2.35:1 widescreen and look gorgeous; extra features are minimal.

The era of the thriving Italian horror film has sadly passed, but thankfully many DVD producers are acquiring these classic titles from the 1960s and '70s. The baroque, operatic shockers of directors Dario Argento (Suspiria) and Mario Bava (Black Sunday) may already be familiar to some, but the Italian horror genre extends much deeper than that—and several new releases from Anchor Bay offer additional testament to these films' enduring appeal. "Giallo"(literally "yellow,"for the color of mystery novels' paperback covers in Italy) is the term used to describe a particularly Italian brand of stylish, perverse and complex thriller that thrived during the '70s. The Giallo Collection is a new four-disc boxed set which presents four notable examples of the genre, all in pristine widescreen with some supplementary features (including interviews and alternate scenes). Antonio Bido's The Bloodstained Shadow (1978) is perhaps the weakest entry in the set. Though overlong and lugubriously paced, it still manages to remain engrossing. Giuliano Carnimeo's Case of the Bloody Iris (1972) is an improvement—a visually accomplished whodunit with some startling suspense set pieces. But the two films from director Aldo Lado are the highlights. His debut, Short Night of the Glass Dolls (1971) is a striking first effort, and his follow-up, Who Saw Her Die? (1972), is even better. It's a dark and sobering Venice-set giallo reminiscent of Don't Look Now that stands as one of the best titles of the genre.

Anchor Bay has also released other European genre titles outside of the giallo family. Also from Italy, director Renato Polselli's Delirium (1972) must be seen to be believed. A manic, hallucinatory shocker with muscleman Mickey Hargitay as a psychologist-turned-sex-maniac, Delirium is an appropriately outrageous intro to Polselli's work (which includes the equally bizarre Reincarnation of Isabel, also available on DVD from Image Entertainment). Just consider yourself warned. The widescreen DVD contains both the original Italian version, as well as the American edit, in addition to an interview featurette.

Also from Anchor Bay are two Spanish horror efforts featuring that country's genre star, Paul Naschy. Werewolf Shadow (1971) and the superior Curse of the Devil (1973), both uncut and widescreen, are augmented by interview footage with Naschy, as well as the usual trailers and bios. Naschy's atmospheric, gothic chillers are more of an acquired taste than their feverish Italian counterparts, but they possess an eroticized charge similar to Hammer Studios' more explicit Brit horror titles from the period, and one can easily become seduced by Naschy's peculiar charms. Start with Curse of the Devil.

Speaking of acquired tastes (Santo! Santo! SANTO! Mexico's greatest masked wrestling superhero El Santo carried his fame from the ring to the movie screen, appearing in over 50 films beginning in 1958, and becoming a cultural icon in the process. A couple of his films were released in America (where he was redubbed "Samson"), but now VCI Entertainment and Kit Parker Films have issued an English-subtitled DVD of one of Santo's liveliest and most rousing endeavors, Santo Contra la Invasion de los Marcianos (1966), with the masked king of "lucha libre"using an abundance of chokeholds to battle a troop of Martian kidnappers. Santo vehicles are, admittedly, not for everyone. But there's no denying that this entry is briskly paced Saturday afternoon pulp entertainment at its nostalgic finest. VCI's DVD (part of a series devoted to popular Mexican cinema) provides a fascinating background for this Latin American pop culture phenomenon.

Pity the long-suffering, old-school Hong Kong martial arts movie fan. While devotees of Euro-horror and Bollywood musicals have seen their interests rewarded with some premium DVD releases, kung fu film freaks have not been so lucky. They've had to survive on wretched quality, unauthorized disc releases from labels like World, Ground Zero and Xenon and fuzzy, pan-and-scan atrocities packaged with misleading titles aimed at undiscriminating consumers.
The promised Shaw Brothers classics to be issued on remastered DVD from Celestial Pictures have yet to materialize, but in the interim there's another label which seems to finally be focusing on quality and honesty in their martial arts releases.

“The quartet of films from Yasuzo Masumura represents perhaps the most significant foreign release on domestic DVD this year.”

Crash Cinema has always been the leader in American releases of 1970s and '80s kung fu imports, but their new Pagoda Films Premium Collection extends their reputation even further, with martial arts discs which are finally capable of withstanding quality comparison to mainstream DVDs. The initial trio of titles—Bloody Fists (1972), Cantonen Iron Kung Fu (1979) and Incredible Kung Fu Mission (1982)—may be minor representations of the genre, but they're all highly enjoyable. Bloody Fists features fight choreography by Matrix action director Yuen Woo Ping, though the two later films actually pack more of a punch.

As with other titles in the Pagoda line, the three films feature wonderfully crisp letterboxed transfers, with some extra features including trailers and "bonus"fight clips. Crash's other non-Pagoda releases are more of a mixed bag in terms of quality, though Abbot White (1982) and Ninja: The Final Duel (1980) get by on sheer psychotronic energy alone (just be aware that Abbot contains the worst English dub in the history of martial arts cinema (which might actually be a sort of recommendation to some).

Enthusiasts of Asian action cinema should also investigate the first two entries in Japan's long-running "Zatoichi"series, which ultimately spanned 25 feature films from 1962 to 1989 (as well as a '70s television series). Home Vision Entertainment has just released The Tale of Zatoichi and The Tale of Zatoichi Continues, both from 1962. These titles are letterboxed at 2.35:1 and feature serviceable, if not razor-sharp, transfers. Shintarô Katsu stars as Zatoichi, a blind traveling masseur and legendary swordsman with an unfortunate habit of invoking the wrath of Yakuza gangs and tyrannical feudal lords. The Zatoichi series actually improved as it progressed (the next three entries, including the first to be shot in color, should be available from Home Vision by the time you're reading this) and some may find these inaugural endeavors to be rather leisurely paced. The second title, though it lacks the emotional impact of the debut film's climax, moves at a more rapid clip. But it's an essential film series for anyone interested in Japanese popular cinema, and the releases are recommended viewing. I'll take Zatoichi over Yojimbo any day.

Also from Japan, the quartet of films directed by Yasuzo Masumura represents perhaps the most significant foreign popular cinema titles released on domestic DVD this year (all from the Fantoma label). Masumura began directing in 1957, as one of the earlier members of the Japanese New Wave, which would also encompass directors like Nagisa Oshima and Shohei Imamura. Masumura's bold genre exercises exist somewhere between the more auteur-oriented productions of the aforementioned New Wave moviemakers and the pure pulp endeavors of directors like Seijun Suzuki and Kinji Fukasaku. Afraid to Die (1960), a brutal yet droll crime thriller starring writer Yukio Mishima, is the weakest of the Masumura quartet, which is only to say that it might not be as essential as the other three. Giants and Toys (1958) is a caustic satire on Japan's advertising industry, enlivened by eye-popping kaleidoscopic compositions and a jaundiced wit. Blind Beast (1969) is a nightmarish and surreal chamber drama of sadomasochism, tactile pleasures and romantic amputation. Slower to boil than its cult following might lead one to believe, it's still astounding for its excesses and unnerving beauty. But the real stunner is Manji (1964), a flamboyant hothouse melodrama centered on an obsessive lesbian relationship and the suicidal consequences of jealousy. An incomparably audacious work, Manji makes the melodramas of Douglas Sirk look Bressonian by comparison. All four Fantoma discs are widescreen (2.35:1) and look great; extras include trailers, as well as a Masumura bio and filmography. MM