Dreamscape Blu-ray features mediocre video and solid audio in this enjoyable Blu-ray release
In this sci-fi thriller, Alex Garner, a young, extremely gifted psychic, is taught by a doctor to actually enter other
peoples' dreams, and even participate in them. Another psychic is being groomed to enter the troubled dreams
of the President of the United States, with intentions not quite so benevolent.
Was there ever a better time than the 1980s for sci-fi/fantasy? And I'm not just talking about high-
concept brain-benders like Brazil, Blade Runner, and Videodrome. The
Reagan era, with its newly established home video market, played host to the triumphant return of
the B movie, cheesetastic little genre pieces with low budgets and high ambitions. For but one
example, we turn to 1984's Dreamscape, an independently financed, low rent cult classic
that combines a nifty sci-fi premise—psychic "dreamlinking"—with flashes of jump out and grab you
horror and a political subplot that played into the nation's collective Red Menace fears of nuclear
annihilation at the hands of the Russians. And check out the Indiana Jones-aping cover art,
with Kate Capshaw hanging off of a conspicuously Harrison Ford-ish looking Dennis Quaid. The
periphery of the poster is where it's at, though: Demon eyed wolves! Dirtbike jumps! Three federal
agents doing their best Charlie's Angels impersonation! A nunchaku-wielding David Patrick Kelly! A
creepy anthropomorphic snakeman! It basically screams guilty pleasure.
That dress deserves to be destroyed in an atomic blast.
The story wouldn't look out of place in the pages of Analog magazine. Dennis Quaid is
Alex Gardner, a psychically gifted young rebel who once ran away from a research study after
"months of intense parapsychological testing," and now spends his days placing bets on winning
horses at the local racetrack. Alex's one-time mentor, Dr. Paul Novotny (a fantastically
mustachioed Max von Sydow), tracks him down and blackmails him into signing up for a new
project, a governmentally-backed study into the cure of sleep disorders via a newfangled
technique called "dreamlinking," which involves sending a psychic into the consciousness of a
dreaming patient. (Think The Cell meets The Matrix.) Alex turns out to be a pro
at this, curing one poor husband's impotency, rescuing an extremely tired-looking kid from his
snake monster nightmares, and prompting fits of childish jealousy from rival psychic Tommy Ray
Glatman (David Patrick Kelly), who was top dog before Alex came on board. A growing infatuation
with Dr. Novotny's assistant, Jane DeVries (Kate Capshaw), prompts Alex to sleazily abuse his
powers as he sneaks into one of Jane's dreams, where they totally get it on, very nearly resulting
in an on-screen nocturnal emission. (Thankfully, she wakes up before Alex makes a mess of
himself.) Awk-ward.
It's not all psychic rivalries and wet dreams, of course. There are far more sinister plots afoot. You
see, the president (Eddie Albert) has been having these horrible nightmares where he feels
responsible for causing WWIII—mutant children in bunkers, DC as an apocalyptic wasteland, his
wife devoured by a mushroom cloud—and this atomic anxiety has him on the verge of signing an
arms treaty with the Russians. Uber-powerful government agent Bob Blair (Christopher Plummer)
doesn't want to see America's nuclear defense system castrated by a wimpy commander in chief,
so he conspires with Tommy Ray to kill the pres, who is coming to Dr. Novotny's center to receive
treatment. As in The Matrix, if you die in a dream, you die in real life, making the R.E.M.
cycle the perfect place for a covert assassination. It's all played straight faced, but
Dreamscape is quaintly ridiculous in retrospect, saved from Mystery Science Theater
3000 lampoon worthiness by some surprisingly solid acting. Dennis Quaid is a likeable hero,
smartassing his way through the picture with that boyish grin and the justified swagger of the
confident and capable. Christopher Plummer is tight-jawed, conspiratorial, like a more suave
Charlton Heston. And then we have Von Sydow, who's is a long way from The Seventh
Seal—or even The Exorcist—but never lets the caliber of the admittedly goofy script
affect his performance. David Patrick Kelly isn't as memorable here as he is in The
Warriors ("Warriors, come out and play-ay!"), but he does get to twirl some laser-tipped
nunchaku and morph into a giant snake—pretty much the epitome of 1980s awesomeness. He
deserves to be airbrushed on a black t-shirt, or, better yet, the side of a van.
If there's one reason to revisit Dreamscape it's because the film has a naïve, eager-to-
please-the-audience vibe that seems characteristic of 1980s sci-fi—especially lower budgeted
productions—with nostalgically dated special effects that rely on handmade ingenuity rather than
digital trickery. Director Joe Ruben—who would go on to helm The Good Son and The
Forgotten, among others—has a lot of fun here, turning each of the dream sequences into
its own mini-movie. The little boy's nightmare is the best, featuring distorted architecture straight
out of some German Expressionist film and a long, rickety staircase that descends into inky
blackness. The film's climax, with Alex escorting the president through a post-apocalyptic fever
dream, is surprisingly intense—zombies and demon-dogs, Tommy ripping the heart out of a train
conductor and chucking it out the window—but the whole snake monster bit seems clumsily
executed, switching back and forth jarringly between stop-motion claymation and
David Patrick Kelly in a rubber suit. Still, it's all part of the film's aw, look how earnestly they
tried charm.
Let me put it this way; if Dreamscape was being demoed at big box stores across the
country, I don't think too many high definition newcomers would pony up for a Blu-ray player or
HDTV. This certainly isn't the best that Blu-ray has to offer—neither is it the worst—but
considering the film's cult status and low budget pedigree, I'm inclined to think that, if not the
best the film could look, this is the best it's going to look without a full
restorative overhaul, and I don't see too many studios coughing up the cash for that. Presented
with a 1080i/AVC encode, this version of Dreamscape is very likely a high definition,
made-for-TV-broadcast master. The source print is as skuzzy as they come, with white flecks
flurrying over the image like a storm of dandruff, and the composite shots displaying bits of hair,
dust, and other debris. Black levels hover around a hazy gray most of the time, and contrast is
generally lifeless and flat. The same goes for the film's colors, which, with few exceptions—like
the dream sequences—are pallid and dull. That said, overall clarity gets a noticeable boost from
previous DVD iterations. I'm not about to call the image sharp, but moderately fine detail
is present and everything looks a little more refined. Grain is quite thick at times, but it doesn't
always look entirely natural, and I wouldn't be surprised if some DNR filtering was applied to
remove excess noise. Over-sharpening doesn't appear to be an issue, however, and there are no
real compression-related distractions. Dreamscape does look better than ever, but that
really isn't saying much.
Do note that as it was essentially impossible to capture usable screenshots in 1080i, all of the
screens in this review were captured in 720p and do not represent the full visual quality of the
image.
Dreamscape's original stereo audio elements have been spread out for this release into a
decent DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround mix, though the increase in channels sometimes leads to
some wonky sound design. For example, in a scene where Alex and Dr. Novotny are walking down a
hallway towards us, you can hear their footsteps reverberating in the rear speakers, sounding
strangely out of place. There are similar moments scattered throughout the film where directionality
doesn't really match up with what we're seeing on screen. Still, the addition of surround sound does
make several scenes more intense, like the post-pep rally shooting, and the dream sequences,
which feature swirling, impressionistic sound with haunting, disembodied voices. Maurice Jarre's
creaky, carnivalesque electronic score benefits from the extra channels as well, frequently lurking in
the rear speakers and pouncing for the big jump scares. There's plenty of depth and breadth
considering the material, but bass output is fairly unresponsive. Dialogue is mostly clean and clear—
there are a few instances when it's overpowered by the music—but the lack of any subtitle options
will be a disappointment for hearing-impaired and non-English-speaking fans.
Commentary with Producer Bruce Cohn Curtis, Writer David Loughery and Special Effects
Artist
Craig Reardon
No Dennis Quaid, no Kate Capshaw, and no Joe Ruben, but this is a solid, informative track—
recorded in 1999—led by producer Bruce Curtis, who steers the conversation through all the
usual
topics. Not exactly essential listening, but a nice bonus for fans.
Photo Gallery (SD, 2:35)
A self-playing photo gallery focused largely on the stop-motion animation of the snake
monster.
Behind the Scenes (SD, 2:13)
Behind the scenes is a bit of a misnomer; this is really a camera test of the enormous snake suit
featured in the film.
Dreamscape is 1980s sci-fi at its most endearingly ridiculous, filled with latent WWIII, Red
Menace fears, cheesy martial arts, dirt bike stunts, zombies, "dreamlinking," and some surprisingly
decent acting. It would make a great double feature with David Cronenberg's slightly more sinister
Scanners. The film's not about to win any awards for Blu-ray picture quality—it's a bit dirty
and dull here—but the upgrade from prior home video versions is appreciable. For fans only.
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