Tuesday, December 10, 2024

Tune In Tuesday: Al Adamson Masterpiece Collection box set from severin

If you’ve ever tried to mainline the madness of Al Adamson’s films, you know it’s not just cinema—it’s a test of your psyche, your patience, and your tolerance for low-budget brilliance and madness. And now, Severin has unleashed *The Al Adamson Masterpiece Collection*, a box set so wild, so excessive, it feels like staring into the abyss—and finding it’s wearing bell-bottoms and holding a cheap prop knife.This isn’t just a box set; it’s a shrine. Severin has cobbled together 32 (!) of Adamson’s films, each a greasy love letter to the grindhouse gods. Here’s where you’ll find Dracula sharing the screen with Frankenstein (*Dracula vs. Frankenstein*), cowboys slugging it out with bikers (*Five Bloody Graves*), and a staggering amount of inexplicably included stock footage (*Horror of the Blood Monsters*, anyone?). Every disc is a reminder that Adamson wasn’t just making movies—he was throwing cinematic spaghetti at the wall and seeing what stuck.Let’s talk packaging. Severin didn’t just toss these flicks into a couple of cases and call it a day. No, sir. This is a collector’s *dream*—a hardbound box that looks like it came from a drive-in theater lost in time. Inside, there’s a book stuffed with essays, photos, and enough behind-the-scenes insanity to make Ed Wood look like Stanley Kubrick. The kind of thing you’d leaf through while chain-smoking and trying to piece together where Adamson ended and his movies began.But the films—oh, the *films*. Transferred in surprisingly high-quality scans, these movies have never looked better, which is to say they’ve never looked *this bad* in glorious HD. The scratches, the grain, the rubbery monsters—they’re all here in grotesque, beautiful detail. Watching Adamson’s movies in this format feels like being in the backseat of a ’70s muscle car, barreling down a desert highway, high on cheap beer and nihilism.Special features? You bet your exploitation-lovin’ ass. Severin didn’t skimp. Every disc is stuffed with commentary tracks, behind-the-scenes interviews, and bizarre archival footage. There’s even a documentary, *Blood & Flesh: The Reel Life & Ghastly Death of Al Adamson*, that delves into Adamson’s truly bizarre life and tragic end. It’s part tribute, part true-crime tale—a fitting accompaniment to the chaos he left behind.But let’s be honest: this set isn’t for everyone. If you’re the kind of cinephile who worships at the altar of prestige films, Adamson’s fever-dream filmography will feel like punishment. But for those who know the secret joys of scuzzy double features, scratchy VHS tapes, and the crackle of a mono soundtrack, this is a grail.Bottom line: The Al Adamson Masterpiece Collection isn’t just a Blu-ray box set. It’s a monument to a man who turned chaos into cult cinema. It’s not about whether the movies are *good*—they’re *not*, and that’s the point. This is cinema stripped to its barest, craziest essentials. It’s exploitation nirvana. Dive in if you dare.Five stars. Or maybe one. Who the hell cares? It’s Al Adamson.

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