LA CABINA
Color, 1972,
Directed by Antonio Mercero
Starring José Luis López Vázquez
between Spain's remarkable horror boom and the oppressive dictatorship of Francisco Franco until the 
mid-'70s has fueled plenty of think pieces over the years, and you'll find a worthy addition in the 2026 Blu-ray set from Radiance Films' Transmission sublabel, Two Boxes: Televised Terror in Franco's Spain. Some welcome context adds a greater appreciation to two important macabre and darkly comic cinematic miniatures, both dealing with middle-aged men slowly being consumed by the technological advances around them. 
Jumping ahead two years we get to El televisor (The Television), a feature-length one-off made for TV by 
Narciso "Chicho" Ibáñez Serrador (The House That Screamed, Who Can Kill a Child?) and aired as a special presentation for his one-and-off anthology series, Tales To Keep You Awake. Average desk worker Enrique (The Dracula Saga's Menta) is a dedicated family man with one goal: to own a color television, an expensive luxury requiring a significant wait. When he finally gets the TV set of his dreams, he gives it a place of honor in the family home and becomes increasingly engrossed in the day-long programming that starts to chip away at his ability to do his job-- or even show up. His wife Susana (D'Ocón) becomes alarmed at the hold the TV set has over her husband's mind, especially when he starts interacting with the actors and claims there are dangerous things that could come out of it if he isn't being careful. This time it's commercialism and mass media that gets the horrific satirical treatment here, with TV guides gradually overtaking the family library and disposable programming substituting for genuine human connection. Watching this today, television seems a lot more benign than the popular hysteria would have folks believe at the time; the streaming, smartphone, and social media age seems far more sinister, fueling countless J-horror nightmares and beyond. What keeps this relevant is its pair of outstanding central performances, with Serrador using the characters impeccably to slowly amp up the darker elements of the story until it's too late to look away. This would also make a great double feature with Giuliano Montaldo's Closed Circuit made four years later, for reasons that should be obvious when you watch them.
been a TV and gray market video mainstay for ages, but finding a nice copy was a challenge until the film was given a beautiful HD restoration a couple of years ago and premiered on FlixOlé. That same master makes its Blu-ray debut here and looks gorgeous, with nice English subtitles for the LPCM Spanish mono audio. El televisor was included in 
Severin's Tales To Keep You Awake Blu-ray set, but it gets a superior presentation here with a nice scan as well with improved optional English subtitles. The respective films each get audio commentaries, the first with the always entertaining pair of Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton (who draw parallels to their own short-form comedic horror work on Inside No. 9 and chart the film's international exposure, especially in the U.K.) and the second with Jonathan Rigby and Kevin Lyons who do an adept job of covering the actors (including a young, pre-Almodóvar Kiti Mánver as the daughter), Serrador's importance to horror, and the climate in Spain at the time. A new interview with scholar Antonio Lazaro-Reboll (37m32s) focuses on Serrador's TV career and the censorship restrictions in Franco-era Spain, as well as the spillover to filmmakers abroad and the way television helped spread quality horror to the masses. An archival 1999 press conference with Serrador (6m47s) for a revival screening of the film about the film's initial buried late-night broadcast, the commentary on media-connected violence, and the touchy nature of the project at the time. For La cabina you get an archival interview with co-screenwriter Jose Luis Garci (18m17s), who covers the initial resistance to the script and the tenacity of director Antonio Mercero (as well as the issues with one key music choice at the end), and a location tour with the director's son, Antonio Mercero Santos (13m6s), standing in that familiar courtyard and covering the significance of the color red and the shock value of the first airing. The limited edition package also comes with an insert booklet featuring new essays by Alex Mendibil and Paul Martinovic.