THE 1990s GENRE BOOTLEGGING SCENE, OZ STYLE!

The 1990s genre bootlegging scene, Oz style!

By Michelle Alexander

A long time ago in an era far, far away (i.e. the 1990s), before fans of cult and otherwise obscure-to the-mainstream movies had the luxury of their favourite titles readily available on Blu-Ray or for instant download, those of us in Melbourne, Australia had to make do with plenty of ropey, grainy, censored prints (jarring jump cuts eliminating most of the gore were the bane of just about every Italian cannibal and Fulci VHS release here) , and forget about rocking up to your nearest video store and walking out with the likes of Cannibal Holocaust, Last House on the Left, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2,  The New York Ripper and anything Ilsa, as all had been refused classification by the Australian censorship board (the first three finally had their ludicrous bans lifted in the mid 2000s, but the Ilsa films still remain ‘forbidden’ in this country). Also, many desired titles (Burial Ground, The Church) were simply not available as they hadn’t been distributed here. As writer John Harrison lamented in issue 15 of the legendary Australian zine Fatal Visions, 

“Unfortunately Melbourne has yet to establish anything that could be considered an ultimate video marketplace to compete with those overseas (take a look inside any issue of Filmfax or Psychotronic to get an idea of the length and breadth of weird and wonderful titles available in the U.S.)”.

However, if one was up to some persistent detective work, they would be able to find all of the above titles, uncut and uncensored, via local mail order outfits Phantastique Video and The Graveyard Tramp, or, if you were willing to risk the wrath of Customs, buy or swap off a myriad of international operations such as European Trash Cinema, Something Weird, Midnight Video, Cinefear Video (still going strong today!), and the infamous Video Search of Miami.

And how did I discover the world of bootlegging? When the world cinema TV channel SBS screened a letterboxed, uncut subtitled print of Deep Red in September 1994, the film completely blew me away. The stunning visuals, cinematography and Goblin soundtrack left me awestruck and wanting to seek out more of the director’s output immediately. I’d caught the Eurohorror bug, and began renting every Fulci, Deodato, Bava and any other movies of this ilk I could find, never mind that many were cut-to-shit and  residing forlornly on the bottom shelves gathering dust and major sunbleaching (the same tapes that collectors now happily pay hundreds of dollars for). 

Certain ‘unscrupulous’ video outlets would stock the odd banned dupe, such as Salo - the absurd history of its banning and unbanning here is headache-inducing and deserving of its own article. My local video store, Sunshine Video Ezy, proudly hosted the entire Faces of Death series in their ‘Documentary’ section, by all accounts particularly popular rentals.

In the mid to late 90s I was a regular visitor to record fairs held around Melbourne and while wandering around one held at the Royal Exhibition Buildings in early 1996, I stumbled across a stall which looked vastly different to all the others selling boxes of vinyl records – the table was covered with dubbed VHS tapes of uncut and unavailable horror titles in Australia, as well as imported Goblin and other Eurohorror CD soundtracks. A VCR set up was even playing The Church, which I’d been dying to see. I had arrived at Phantastique Video, the aforementioned horror/cult/trash mail-order service, ran by Gregg Lewis from the mid 1990s-early 2000s. Gregg was manning the stall that day, along with Adam Lee, who helped stocked Phantastique with its jaw-dropping range of titles - everything from uncut Fulci, Franco and D’Amato to XXX fare to those banned cult classics mentioned earlier.  Being low on cash I was only able to purchase a copy of Last House on the Left, but I made sure to take a catalogue before I left and over the years would have spent thousands of dollars on everything I wanted to see (seeing The Beyond and Zombi Holocaust uncut was a revelation – no massive splices chopping out eyeball and cranium violence!).

Discovering Phantastique was a major stepping stone for me and in that same year I found inner-city store Polyester Books’ stash of bootlegged tapes at the back of their store, which gave me access to my first viewing of Cannibal Holocaust. Needless to say I was shocked and stunned by Ruggero Deodato’s brutal masterpiece – the film has lost none of its power even after at least a dozen subsequent viewings – and the tape’s nth generation quality and Spanish subtitles only added to its devastating effect, giving it a ‘snuff movie from bedlam’ feel.

Another fondly-remembered Melbourne mail-order (and subsequent online) store of note was John Harrison’s ‘The Graveyard Tramp’, specialising in dupes, ex-rental tapes, books, magazines, posters, and KISS memorabilia. Along with top-quality service, John always offered a consistently varying range of product, including a great mix of local and international zines.

As I obtained most of my tapes from contacts within Australia, I only ever ordered from overseas one memorable time – from Video Search of Miami. VSoM had a 60 page catalogue offering a mouth-wateringly vast range of product. I was a little apprehensive about having to initially pay a $10 ‘non-refundable initiation fee’ but figured it was worth it as I naively assumed I’d be getting, at the least, decent quality copies and service. I ordered a few titles including the ‘Argento Collectors Package’ (a compilation tape consisting of two Dario Argento interviews and a fashion show he directed for Italian television in 1986). Several weeks later Australia Post delivered the tapes to my door, and I immediately loaded up the VCR with the Argento cassette. And much to my surprise instead of the Argento programmes appearing on my TV screen I got some European porno flick instead!  Fortunately the other cassettes had the content they were meant to have, but I was far from impressed. Not only with the ‘mix-up’- but with the horrid, barely watchable muddy quality of the dubs. I never expect perfect quality from bootlegs, but after paying extortion, I mean a ‘membership fee’ and more than above-average prices I expected better.  Needless to say, I didn’t waste my time ordering from Video Search of Miami again, especially as I never even received the courtesy of an apology.

In the late 90s, still considered the dawn of the World Wide Web, early genre message boards such as the Mortado’s Page of Filth forum allowed fellow collectors to meet and organise their own trades, which provided another avenue for me to add to my tape collection (and meet some more great like-minded folks along the way as well).

In the Noughties and beyond, the introduction and subsequent popularity of DVD’s, torrents, streaming video and Blu-Ray discs has effectively eliminated the chase of tracking down the right contacts to search for formerly elusive films, save for the most obscure titles. Pretty much everything I used to have to wait weeks for though the post, or spend years searching for, is now available within minutes online. Which of course is fantastic for accessibility and convenience, not to mention the far superior quality of Blu-Ray compared to VHS, but the sheer thrill of scouring random video outlets and discovering lonely copies of Bloody Moon, Murderock and Dario Argento’s World of Horror emblazoned with $1 Weekly Hire stickers, pouring over the goodies in mail-order catalogues, and reading about formerly mythical films not touched by the mainstream horror press like the early works of Michael and Roberta Findlay in ‘labour of love’ zines, is something that can never be replaced.