Showing posts with label Radiance Films. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Radiance Films. Show all posts

Monday, April 20, 2026

LOS GOLFOS (1960) - Radiance Films

Los Golfos
(The Delinquents)
Radiance Films

Original Release Date May, 1960
Written by Mario Camus, Carlos Saura, Daniel Sueiro
Directed by Carlos Saura
Starring Manuel Zarzo, Luis Marín, Óscar Cruz, Juanjo Losada, Ramón Rubio, Rafael Vargas
Language Spanish (English subtitles available)

Get your copy from MVD Entertainment HERE

by "Doc" Hunter Bush, MovieJawn Podcast Director and Staff Writer 


The Movie Itself: Good

Los Golfos (The Delinquents) is a solidly made film, and just in a general way, as a supporter of the cause of film preservation, I'm glad it has been restored and made available, but as sometimes happens with older films, the conditions of its creation is almost more important than the film itself. The story of Los Golfos is as fascinating and inspiring as the story in Los Golfos.

Made in Spain during the regime of Francisco Franco (which began in 1939 and continued until his death in '75), Los Golfos' creation was viewed as a dissident act, not only for portraying life under a fascist dictator as anything other than a paradise, but also for what was shown. Once completed, the censorship board required that four cuts be made before the film was allowed to premier at Cannes. Director / co-writer Carlos Saura refused and, as punishment, after returning from Cannes, the censorship board number of demanded cuts had risen to ten before they would allow it to be shown in Spain. A further cut was made before before it could be shown on television there as well.

So what was so inflammatory? Los Golfos follows a group (debatably, they could be considered a 'gang') of young people living in a poverty that the government ignored both publicly and privately. The film opens with, I believe (*), Rámon (Luis Marín) robbing a blind woman's newsstand and running off with whatever money he managed to grab. Being shown that these young men may not be good people gives way to seeing how they live otherwise. Some can occasionally find work, but not all of them, and when push comes to shove, they will resort to some unsavory acts. But there is one bright spot of hope for them: Juan (Óscar Cruz) who dreams of becoming a bullfighter, one of the only ways to escape their situation. If Juan can get a sanctioned bullfight, and become a local personality, he'll be able to travel, and bring all of his friends along with him. 

(*) I'll be honest, I had a tough time figuring out who was who in this rather large group of guys. Characters wouldn't always be addressed by name in scenes where they appeared, so I was constantly taking notes on their actions & characteristics and trying to pair them to names that cropped up later. There's Rámon and Juan, but also Manolo, Julian, Paco, and Antonio. There's also a Chato which means "flat-nose", but I wasn't sure if that was a nickname applied to a perviously-named character, or a permanent nickname for one person, like having a friend everyone calls "Slim". Of course, there's also Visi, the lone female semi-regular member of the group, but she was a little easier to keep mental tabs on as the only gal.

It turns out it isn't exactly complicated to get a bullfight organized: you just need to pay a lot of money (20,000 pesetas, which was the currency in Spain until 2002) to a guy to get the permits and secure the bull, then you have to get out there a distribute flyers and spread the word. Of course, to get this money the fellas (and Visi) lie, cheat, and steal which inevitably leads to bigger and bigger trouble.


The Packaging: Excellent

I love the look of Radiance Films releases. They use a slightly more heavy-duty clear snapcase than your average Blu-ray, which is always nice, and the reversible cover is fantastic. On one side is a pair of black-and-white images from the film: the front shows five of the boys walking together with a bridge in the background, out of focus, while the back in a mirror image of that, with the focus instead on the bridge rather than the boys. After watching the film, it became obvious that what I initially thought was an interesting stylistic choice is actually a commentary on Los Golfos being as much a story about the place (and time) as it is about the characters.

The reverse features a vintage-looking illustrated image of three of the young men deep in conversation, depicted against a red background in stark black lines with pale yellow highlights. It's very striking.


There's also a handsome booklet with an essay from Dr. Mar Diestro-Dópido offering even more insight on Carlos Saura's career during and around the making of Los Golfos, reproductions of reports on the script for the film, and an essay from Javier Rellán and Patricia Uceda on the film's restoration process.


The Video: Excellent

I loved the look of Los Golfos. Direction aside, the black-and-white cinematography is gorgeous and the restoration really does justice to it. I was very aware at all times of the textures of everything: corduroy pants, scarred walls, faded wooden doors, painted bricks, frayed denim, the chrome accents on the hood of a truck; all of them were just so incredibly tangible and tactile.

There's some grain present, but it feels natural and doesn't detract at all. The night scenes have more visual noise, but there was a disclaimer at the beginning that made it sound like this film had seen some rough times, which, combined with lower light level issues in general, makes any distraction feel if nothing else, well-earned.

I would be remiss if I did not mention Carlos Saura's direction, which honestly cannot be ignored. Saura was a photographer before moving on to directing film, which gives him an incredibly strong sense of visual composition. The shot choices in Los Golfos are then incredibly beautiful and impactful and convey a lot of emotion.


The Audio: Good

I didn't truthfully have any great problems with this release, but if you're a serious audiophile, the at times very obvious ADR might bother you, I guess. For those unaware, ADR (automatic dialogue replacement) is when lines of dialogue are recorded later and placed into scenes, usually because the dialogue recorded during shooting, if there even was any, isn't of a clear enough quality. While the ADR in Los Golfos can be glaring here and there, I must have gotten used to it because I forgot all about it pretty quickly.

Otherwise, the audio mix was lovely. There's a lot of casual Spanish guitar that plays throughout a lot of the film, especially early on, that just sort of meanders along in the background without ever really drawing much attention to itself. There's a few scenes in crowded bars or dancehalls that made good use of my three-channel soundbar to make the rooms they were in sound realistically large and inhabited. I didn't encounter any volume or clarity issues at all.


The Supplements: Excellent

I always say that what I personally look for in supplemental / bonus material is context, and the features on Radiance's Los Golfos release are a treasure trove of context. Two in-depth interviews, both original to this release, provided a great deal of backstory (much of which I've briefly touched upon above), and there is a whole feature showcasing the cuts demanded by the censorship board. If you're someone who also just loves freebies, there are two of Carlos Saura's short films included as well.

  • Interview with author Esteve Riambau (22:17)
  • Interview with curator Ehsan KhoshBakht (17:11)
  • Censored scenes (12:57)
  • La Llamada (The Call) (1955) (7:04)
  • La Tarde Del Domingo (Sunday Afternoon) (1957) (33:42)


Final Thoughts: Snag it at a Yard Sale

Los Golfos is a fun watch at times, even if the characters are being forced into less than admirable acts, but you'll never shake the feeling that capital 'T' Trouble is out there, waiting for them. You're right of course, and when it finds them, it's bad and only gets worse. The performances feel very grounded and the societal tensions are all too real. This could easily be compared to any more recent examination of troubled young manhood (even something like Saturday Night Fever mirrors aspects found here) or gritty, street-level crime drama (the story here could easily sustain one season of an award-winning HBO drama) even without any understanding of the era's politics.

One last caveat I'll offer to potential disc-purchasers is that the film ends with footage of an actual bullfight, up to and including the death of the poor animal. Bullfighting is an important part of Spain's cultural identity, and I mean no disrespect in any way when I say I would rather not have to see that myself. The disc begins with a disclaimer about the restoration. I just wish I would have gotten a heads-up about the actual on-screen animal death.

Again, no judgment. I respect this aspect of Spain's culture and know that it wouldn't be done this way now, and additionally, I respect the statement that this death makes; the pall it casts over the events we've just watched. But it did ruin my night. All I'm saying is: while Los Golfos is a tremendously engaging and evocative film, and one that deserves to be seen and understood, be prepared for that finale.

Sunday, December 28, 2025

THE BETRAYAL (1966) - Radiance Films

The Betrayal
Radiance Films
Original release date: July 2nd, 1966 (Japan)
Written by Rokuhei Susukita (original idea), Seiji Hoshikawa & Tsutomu Nakamura (screenplay)
Directed by Tokuzô Tanaka
Starring Raizô Ichikawa, Kaoru Yachigusa, Shiho Fujimura, Ichirô Nakatani, Takuya Fujioka
Language Japanese (English subs)
Runtime 1 hr, 27 mins

Buy it HERE from MVD, or HERE from Radiance


by "Doc" Hunter Bush, MovieJawn Podcast Director and Staff Writer 


What happens when a system founded on honor is inhabited and manipulated by dishonorable men? What does honor mean then? The Betrayal throws you into the deep end right from the jump. Gorgeous black and white cinematography and the sprawling countryside of 1960s Japan quickly give way to a samurai on horseback who rides into town, to the Minazuki clan dojo and demands to be trained. After being told that the master has retired for the day and that the dojo is closed, the man storms off, badmouthing the dojo to other Minazuki samurai he encounters on the road. In a moment of prideful weakness, the samurai lash out, fatally wounding the man but not killing him.

This begins a harrowing story about love and honor that manages to cram the emotional movement and bodycount of your average epic into a sleek 87 minute runtime. When the man's brother arrives at the Minazuki dojo demanding satisfaction for what we learn was the eventual death of his brother, who rode home badly wounded, he demands vengeance. Fearing a war with this more powerful neighboring clan, Master Taihei (Shôzô Nanbu) turns to his right hand man, and soon-to-be son-in-law, Kobuse (Raizô Ichikawa). The plan is this: since no one will claim responsibility, Kobuse will take the blame, be exiled, and spend one year as a wandering ronin. By the time he returns, tensions will have passed and he will be allowed to reintegrate into the dojo and finally marry Taihei's daughter Namie (Kaoru Yachigusa).

What no one anticipates is that Master Taihei would pass away suddenly in the intervening year. Once Jurota (Ichirô Nakatani), the one fellow Minazuki samurai who knew the truth, denies all knowledge, Kobuse is left with no one to believe his story. Additionally, having been denied their bloody reparations, the Iwashiro clan are actively on the hunt for Kobuse. Homeless, honorless, and hunted, Kobuse repeatedly finds himself in situations where he is the only levelheaded swordsman, the only truly honorable man.

The Betrayal gave me Infernal Affairs (2002) / The Departed (2006) vibes once I wrapped my head around all the players and their POVs, so fans of that kind of life-or-death tension and wronged-man stories: pay attention.


This release comes in a sturdy case with a double-sided cover. One side is an image from the film of Kobuse in a stand-off against his former master atop a ridge, while the reverse side is a more stylized image of Kobuse in a pop of color, with several black and white opponents in the background done in a pseudo-collage style and set against a stark white background. Both are fantastic choices to have on your shelf; one giving off more "film appreciator" aesthetic while the other is a touch more "grindhouse".


Also included is a booklet with some details on the transfer and a fascinating essay from film studies author Alain Silver which details a lot of cultural and cinematic language and explains how certain aspects of storytelling present in The Betrayal evolved out of kabuki theatricality. He also compares certain directorial choices to films like Harakiri (1962) and assorted works of Akira Kurosawa. This gives me not only a lot of context (which I love) but a leg up on the language I can use to discuss these things.


The Betrayal looks fantastic. Obviously, there's some film grain and texture present in this release, but the images are very sharp, offering an entire spectrum of shades despite this being a black and white film. There's also a certain artfulness to shooting with only black and white in mind, a deliberateness you can feel in the framing of shots and the combinations of set and costume to make actions and movements clearly readable. You can throw a desaturation filter over your Logan (2017) or Fury Road (2015) and enjoy them, but it's a completely different animal to watch something made by filmmakers actively thinking in monochrome.

The one wrinkle that might turn off some of the more tech-geeky film aficionados out there is that this is a mono audio track. Personally, I didn't mind it. I don't really expect or need a film from 60 years ago to offer an immersive audio experience (even if I had that kind of set-up, which I don't) and the mono track not only gave me everything I needed from it, but it also kind of reinforces the throwback-y feel of watching a film that takes place in a different century. Much as small children looking at old photographs might assume that the world of 100+ years ago was actually sepia or black & white, even though I know better, I kind of like to believe this mono audio is what Japan might have actually sounded like in whatever century this story takes place in. There's different approaches to the concept of "immersion", is my point.


Overall the special features present on this disc are decent. While there isn't a full-length commentary track, there are a selection of scene-specific commentaries, from Tom Mes, (which thankfully have a 'Play All' option) offering insight into the filmmaking and background of director Tokuzô Tanaka, and leading me to track down the film Orochi (1925), which directly inspired The Betrayal. The 'Path to Betrayal' featurette, narrated by Philip Kemp, expands upon that relationship and compares moments from both films. One amusing anecdote is that Orochi (which means 'Serpent') was originally titled The Outlaw, but could not be released under that name because it depicted the titular outlaw in a heroic light.

I wasn't wild over the third bonus feature, which plays like a PowerPoint presentation on Recurring Visual Themes in Tokuzô Tanaka's films. While I found the subject matter itself interesting, the presentation--just text over footage--felt a little lacking. I'd have more enjoyed a little more of an examination of what these elements might represent narratively in the various films, and some narration (if Tom Mes, who put it together, wasn't available, that Philip Kemp fella did a bang-up job). Also, not to be nitpicky, but if the titles of all these films could be onscreen for longer (so I can add 'em to my Letterboxd watchlist), that would've been much appreciated.

  • Scene Specific Commentary (41:24)
  • The Path To Betrayal (10:00)
  • Recurring Visual Themes (9:24)


The world of samurai / bushido films goes deeper than Kurosawa, great as that filmography obviously is, and I'm very glad that The Betrayal is being made available. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in this world. Imagine enjoying organized crime films, but only ever hearing about The Godfather (1972), or the films of Martin Scorsese. Sure, you're getting great stuff, but what about Donnie Brasco (1997), The Untouchables (1987), or Miller's Crossing (1990)? This is why I'm glad and grateful to live during an nearly unprecedented era of film access. I'm able to be exposed to so many films outside the usual lanes that are still well within the genres I enjoy. Additionally, the special features here led me to track down Orochi, which if nothing else, makes me feel slightly more well-rounded as a film viewer.

The Betrayal is a blast that throws you into the action as it begins and doesn't waste any time after that. Every moment furthers the story, increasing our understanding of the characters and the importance they place on their honor. Then of course, when that honor is finally ...betrayed, we're treated to a climactic marathon of violent retribution. When the film ended, I was stunned in my seat. While the release might have some minor technical deterrents for some, I still wholeheartedly recommend you seek this one out if you enjoy Kill Bill (2003/2004) or the aforementioned Kurosawa, and want to dive deeper.