Tune in Tuesday: Vinegar Syndrome's Blu-ray of Blood Tracks: A Revolutionary Moment in Cinematic Obscurity

The act of watching Blood Tracks on Vinegar Syndrome's Blu-ray is a punch in the face to every lazy viewer who’s ever dismissed exploitation cinema as cheap junk. Because here, my friends, we have something that transcends the limits of trash, something that elevates the genre from schlock to art simply by its audacity. This is a movie that demands attention, or at the very least, a loud, unapologetic laugh, because if you’re not laughing, you’re doing it wrong.

Blood Tracks (1985) — a Swedish action-horror movie made by people who clearly never once stopped to question their choices, and thank God for that. If you’re a sucker for bands of wild-eyed musicians, dark forests, bloody murders, and a score that could only exist in the ’80s, then Vinegar Syndrome’s new release might just be the Holy Grail. A workout tape of bizarro weirdness, amplified by its over-the-top ambition to be a slasher, a rock ‘n’ roll action flick, and a neon nightmare all in one. The plot? Does it matter? Some bands, a little skiing, a secret hideout, and oh, yeah, an impending battle with a group of masked killers. But the real story here is the vibe. 

The Blu-ray itself is a revelation, even if the original film’s grainy, low-budget sheen is more “charmingly outdated” than “polished.” The transfer is surprisingly lush, with the cold, pristine blues of the snow contrasting starkly against the brutal reds of the bloodshed. The sound is crisp, with the ’80s synthesizer soundtrack that has no business being as good as it is. And the visuals... Lord help us. The frenzied, dreamlike sequences of mayhem and psychedelic violence unfurl with a sort of chaotic elegance — this is the kind of movie that demands to be watched at least twice. The first time for the lunacy; the second time for the unexpected pleasures. 

Vinegar Syndrome, of course, isn't here to let you off easy. They've unleashed a bevy of special features, a treasure trove of madness that goes well beyond the call of duty. The interviews with cast and crew read like a post-mortem on a film that couldn't possibly have survived in the hands of anyone else, and yet here we are, treating Blood Tracks as a lost masterpiece. The doc is part history lesson, part therapy session, as the filmmakers recount their fever dream of a production, a shipwreck that somehow turned into something that even in the dim light of day, still burns bright.

Is Blood Tracks a good movie? Who cares. Is it entertaining? God, yes. The real question is whether or not we’ve earned the right to treat it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for long-lost classics. The answer, after watching this absurd piece of cinema history, is a resounding yes. 

If you’re expecting anything other than an orgy of neon blood, disco haircuts, and heavy synth beats, then step off now, because Vinegar Syndrome has thrown down the gauntlet, and Blood Tracks is here to remind us that sometimes, the only thing that matters is the ride. And trust me, this is one hell of a ride.