By Lee Pfeiffer

Some years ago I hosted a black tie dinner in honor of Sir Roger Moore at New York's famed club The Players. While interviewing him on stage, I asked him what he thought his best film performances were. Moore thought pensively for a moment or two and said, "None of them!" With tongue finally out of cheek, Moore explained that, with the exception of the little-seen 1970 cult movie The Man Who Haunted Himself- he had found success by essentially playing the same character. The names would change, so would the era, but the mannerisms that his fans warmed to were always firmly in place. Moore clearly feels its best to stick to a winning formula rather than have a bold departure from his usual traits backfire, a la John Wayne as Genghis Khan in "The Conqueror".  It's hard to be overly critical of an actor with such an admirable tendency toward self-deprecating humor. Moore has become Britain's version of Jimmy Stewart- an avuncular, national treasure who seemingly has no enemies in high places.  Nevertheless, Moore would be the first to admit to appearing in any number of cinematic misfires. Although wildly successful on television, Moore's big screen career has a checkered history. His Bond films were predictable blockbusters and  "The Wild Geese" and "The Sea Wolves" did very well internationally, even though they tanked in the USA. His "Cannonball Run" may have been awful but the all star cast propelled it to the top of the boxoffice charts. Beyond that, however, even some of the better films he appeared in such as "Gold", "Shout at the Devil" and "ffolkes" (aka "North Sea Hijack") never found the audience they deserved.

One of Moore's more ambitious and curious ventures, "Sherlock Holmes in New York", has been released by Fox as a burn-to-order DVD. The 1976 made for television project was telecast with great fanfare on NBC. (Moore made the movie between his second and third Bond flicks, "The Man With the Golden Gun" and "The Spy Who Loved Me".) He breaks no new ground in his interpretation of the legendary detective, but then again he slips comfortably into the role, bringing the same traits that characterized his performance as Bond and The Saint. To his credit, he never camps it up or goes for an over-the-top laugh (if only he had shown such restraint in the more embarrassing moments of his Bond films.) The movie, directed by the respected Boris Sagal, presents Holmes and Watson (Patrick Macnee) being summoned to New York when they receive word that Irene Adler (Charlotte Rampling) may be in some mortal danger. Adler, as any Holmes buff knows, is the only one who ever got under Holmes's skin. By actually outwitting him in a case, she earned his respect and caused the legendary detective to deal with some inconvenient romantic notions. It's best not to reveal too much about a Holmes story so that the viewer can experience a few surprises along the way. The film does set up the main story line in the opening sequence in which Holmes (wearing an embarrassingly obvious disguise) confronts his arch nemesis, Prof. Moriarty (John Huston) in his London lair. The two men exchange witticisms and insults and Moriarty vows vengeance for Holmes spoiling his latest criminal scheme. Moriarty promises that he will put Holmes in a situation in which he will be forced to abstain from helping authorities thwart one of his most ambitious crimes, thereby tarnishing the great detective's reputation forever.

If the plot is a bit tame and flabby, the cast is a great deal of fun to watch. Patrick Macnee plays Watson somewhat in the vein of Nigel Bruce but doesn't make him overtly useless- and, in fact, he actually saves Holmes life at one point. (Macnee and Moore would reunite in 1981 for the feature film "The Sea Wolves" and in 1985 for Moore's final 007 flick "A View to a Kill".) Huston excels as Moriarty but his scenes are far too limited and only book end the main story. The film was done rather on the cheap and all but one sequence was filmed in a studio, rather surprising considering the luster of the cast members involved. The script does have one rather surprising development about Holmes' personal life revealed as the shock ending...but to say more would be to say too much.

"Sherlock Holmes in New York" isn't one of the top entries in the Holmes canon, but any time you can see Roger Moore, Patrick Macnee and John Huston sharing scenes, it's a worthwhile way to spend a couple of hours.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Impulse Pictures has improbably resurrected the bottom of the barrel porn vignettes from the 1960s and 1970s- commonly known as "peep show" films- into DVD releases that actually have some social significance.  First, some background. In the uptight era of the 1950s through early 1960s, even a hint of sex on screen usually resulted in censorship or arrest and prosecution. The main stream, big studios- in an attempt to prevent the establishment of an office of government censorship- took draconian measures to ensure they censored themselves by adhering to codes of ethics that watered down adult films every bit as much as any government entity was likely to do. Where would sexually frustrated men seek cinematic satisfaction? About the only venue available were 8mm stag films, which were primarily shown in private homes behind closed doors. Generally these were forbidden fruit shown at bachelor parties or perhaps added some spice to the marital bed if a man had a truly progressive wife. Men who lived in or near big cities could purchase reels of these films in "red light districts". If you lived in small town America, you were generally out of luck. When New York's 42nd Street made a sharp turn towards vice in the 1960s, porn parlor flourished along the notorious stretch. You could not only purchase reels of silent stag films for home viewing, but the era of the "peep show" also came about. A horny guy could enter a telephone booth-sized private cubicle and insert some coins into a machine and- Presto!- a dirty movie would start playing right before his very eyes. Frustratingly, the movie would end after a few minutes, thus ensuring the viewer would continue to insert more coins to see the climax (pardon the pun.) The films ran anywhere from five to ten minutes. Accordingly, story lines and production values were virtually non-existent because the action had to start almost immediately. From such modest cinematic achievements, some faces became well-known to patrons. John Holmes (aka "Long Johnny Wadd"), whose substantial physical asset became his trademark, was a ubiquitous presence in these films and some of the more prolific "actresses" also got their starts in these modest productions. As censorship laws slackened in the wake of the sexual revolution, production values increased within the porn industry and relatively high budget feature films played sometimes for months at a time in actual theaters. Among the more notorious: "Deep Throat", "The Devil in Miss Jones" and "Behind the Green Door", each of which became a pop culture sensation. Still, there was-and still is- a place for peep show fare among the remaining grindhouses in red light districts around the world.

Impulse Pictures has released a number of volumes consisting of numerous silent peep show flicks. Amusingly, they have added the sound of a whirring projector to the soundtrack. They have also shown the archival footage in its raw, primitive state, complete with original spice marks and blotches in order to recreate the experience of how these films were initially seen. What adds some "social significance" to these releases is the accompanying booklet with incisive essays by Robin Bougie, a self-professed scholar of sleeze movies. He runs a  web site at www.cinemasewer.com  and has an extensive knowledge of the genre. In Vol. #1 of the "Peep Show Collection", Bougie astutely points out that it took until the release of Sidney Lumet's "The Pawnbroker" in 1965 before American adult audiences could even be shown a glimpse of naked breasts in a mainstream studio release. Bougie points out that, although these 8mm loops are as bare-bones as one can imagine, there was a sense of fun that is lacking from today's coarser porn flicks. He also provides valuable insights into identifying future porn stars in these loops, including Marc Stevens, Annie Sprinkle and Lisa DeLeeuw. (John Holmes doesn't require any identification beyond his trademark appendage.) Most of the actresses in the films, however, were simply free-spirited young women who involved in the counter-culture. Many thought that by appearing in such films, they were thumbing their nose at the Establishment. Others were probably less politically inclined and did the films simply to make a few quick dollars. Still others just liked the notion of free, liberated sex after coming out of a period of social repression. In any event, it may not be pleasing to these ladies, many of whom are now grandmothers today, that these obscure, long-forgotten stag films are now being dressed up and issued on DVD.

Bougie also delves back into the origins of the peep show films, tracing them to one Lasse Braun, who used an inheritance to finance the first of these films for European audiences. They were then imported to America by a man named Reuben Sturman, who distributed them to 60,000 porn shops. Thus, the era of the peep show was born. 

This collection obviously isn't for everyone. The films are definitely hardcore and leave nothing to the imagination. But if it's possible for someone to get sentimental about such fare, this collection will fit the bill. Perhaps the value of the adult entertainment industry of this era is best summed up by a quote from Norman Mailer that Bougie cites in his essay: "There was something exciting about pornography. It lived in some mid-world between crime and art. And it was adventurous."

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BY DAVID KING

You have to be a bit courageous to name a documentary “Boredom,” knowing it will eventually land in the hands of a snarky reviewer looking for an easy joke. Albert Nerenberg, the director behind other documentaries looking at everyday phenomena (“Laughology,” “Stupidity”) wanted to explore this common life experience: what boredom is, how it happens, and what effects it has on people.

In doing so, Nerenberg uses a variety of filmmaking styles, from research presented by experts, to B-roll and stock footage, to dramatizations and “Daily Show” style interviews meant as much to amuse as entertain.

Nerenberg warns us early on that there isn’t much research on the actual topic of boredom. It’s apparently a subject that sparks more curiosity and questions than it does answers.The documentary does pull together a variety of experts, however, from psychologists and neurologists to scholars on topics like education and technology. The film is for the most part entertaining, though it does miss the mark a little by giving equal weight to these experts and more anecdotal evidence on the effects of boredom, provided by interview subjects. These include adrenaline junkies, drug addicts and a professional public relations man who runs The Boredom Institute, an institute in name only of which he is the only member, created mostly to generate buzz.

The DVD, released by Entertainment One, moves along nicely at a brisk 61 minutes. (A clever bonus feature includes a version of the film sped up 10%, clocking it in at a more manageable 48 minutes.) The DVD also has a three-minute featurette on the stages of boredom and a four-minute feature on a proposed artificial mountain in Holland to add interest to the country’s otherwise flat landscape.

While there is some interesting information to be found in the film, it works more as infotainment than profound research. Think of it as more of today’s version of a Discovery Channel documentary than the scholarly programs of the 1990s.

In short, there are plenty of less interesting ways you could spend an hour than watching this film- and at least “Bordom” is never boring.

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BY FRED BLOSSER

Jane Birkin, Anita Pallenberg, a character named “Penny Lane,” sitar music by George Harrison, Mod set design, Carnaby Street fashions, trippy psychedelic colors -- if you need a late-‘60s cultural fix and you’re short a time machine, Joe Massot’s “Wonderwall” (1968) may be your next best remedy.

Middle-aged scientist Oscar Collins (Jack MacGowran) lives a drab existence. At work, he peers through a microscope at wriggling microbes. At home in his solitary apartment, he reads Scientific American amid piles of bundled back issues. One evening, he accidentally knocks a hole in the wall that allows him to peer into the adjoining apartment, occupied by a pretty aspiring model named Penny Lane (Birkin). Oscar’s flat looks like a disheveled Hobbit hole. Penny’s is a swirl of vivid Pop Art colors. Becoming infatuated and then obsessed, Oscar devises additional ways to spy on his neighbor. When Penny holds a party, Oscar dresses up in a tuxedo but remains in his apartment, watching through the peep hole. He imagines a series of chaste romantic encounters with Penny, and a series of comic duels with Penny’s boyfriend (Iain Quarrier) involving increasingly absurd phallic objects.

Screened at Cannes but never released theatrically in the U.S., “Wonderwall” on the surface seems like a whimsical variation on Roman Polanski’s “Repulsion” (1966) and “What?” (1972) -- no coincidence, since it was based on a story by Gérard Brach, Polanski’s friend and longtime collaborator. MacGowran’s cartoonish demeanor, art director Assheton Gorton’s eye-popping color palette, the silly visuals in Oscar’s daydreams, and George Harrison’s eclectic score reinforce the first impression that this is a comedy, not a downer like Polanski’s psychodramas. But the movie is more elusive than that. It definitely avoids the predictable formula of today’s romantic comedies, in which Oscar would be played by Matthew McConaughey or Ben Stiller, the voyeurism would be toned down, and Oscar and Penny would eventually get together -- sort of the same way Kaley Cuoco’s Penny and her nerdy scientist neighbor Leonard got together on TV’s “The Big Bang Theory.” Massot, Brach, and screenwriter Guillermo Cabrera Infante (“Vanishing Point”) devise an ending that may be happy, sad, or cosmically transcendent, depending on how you interpret it.

Very much reminiscent of other Mod-era films like “Blow-Up,” “2001,” “If . . .,” and “Candy,” “Wonderwall” is given a welcome rescue from obscurity by Fabulous Films and Shout Factory. The Blu-ray Collector’s Edition includes the original theatrical version restored in hi-def by Pinewood Studios, a director’s cut assembled by Massot in the late 1990s, and numerous extras. A glossy, colorful souvenir booklet highlights Massot’s reflections about the making of the film, written in 2000, two years before his death, with fond and sometimes poignant memories of hanging with the Beatles, Polanski, Sharon Tate, Eric Clapton, and others in the Swinging ‘60s. The Fabulous Films/Shout Factory Collector’s Edition Blu-ray can be ordered from Amazon by CLICKING HERE.

BY ROD BARNETT

The general consensus among fans of “Adult Films” (a.k.a. pornography movies) is that the genre floundered and died because of the advance of technology. The first blow was the mass adoption of VCRs in the 1980s. This was initially seen as a major boon to the smut industry because video cassettes allowed porn into the home where it could be watched in secrecy. But the ravenous appetite of the back room video shops for product made cheap, fast productions more enticing for producers, thus bringing the quality down further and further with each passing year. The second and most deadly hit was the creation of the internet, which made porn available at the click of a button and made the consumer contemptuous of paying for the product at all. Now that it is possible to see almost any combination of human bodies in almost any form of sexual activity that you can imagine instantaneously what is to become of the long form film version of pornography? Who will preserve old school narrative adult movies from the old days of porno? Vinegar Syndrome will! The DVD label seems intent on bringing us every possible opportunity to wallow in sleaze from decades past and taste is no barrier.

Jungle Blue (1978) is one of those films that hails from that magic time before the death of narrative porn –from before the time when the very idea of having to follow a story to see people copulate onscreen caused puzzlement in a viewer. Yes, this film is from the ‘Golden Age’ of pornography when smut peddlers saw porn as just another form of profitable storytelling. As crazy as it may seem from the 21st century perspective, there was a time when porn was seen as just another form of motion picture art and the genre was the cutting edge of boundary pushing. "Let's make the old folks uncomfortable - let's make a sex film!" But, of course, that wasn't the only impetus behind making porn. In those days there were people that wanted to make solid, credible movies that just happened to have several scenes of sex scattered about the running time. During this short lived time there were some well produced pornographic movies that had high budgets and pretty good scripts but, as you might expect, the vast majority were lower down on the quality scale. Indeed, once the Fast Forward button became a reality, any pretensions about crafting ‘artful films’ for the porn market became a silly notion. People were watching these movies for one reason only- titillation - and if the movie skimped on that front it was reviled, or worse, unprofitable.

How do you review a film that opens on a shot of a woman orally pleasuring a man in an ape suit? Like this- Jungle Blue tells us the tale of Jane (Kathie Kori) who is in search of her missing father in the jungles of Peru. She arrives in that country with a group of friends including Silvia (Nina Fause) who has convinced Jane (by lesbian seduction we learn in one of many flashbacks) to let her and Hank (Hank Lardner) join her on the trip. These two are posing as botanists searching for healing herbs in the jungle plant life but are actually in search of a hidden treasure of precious jewels that they believe are guarded by tribe Jane's father was studying. Once in the jungle they meet loin-clothed white man Evor (Bigg John) who is called by native the lord of the jungle. Looking very Tarzan-like, Evor is a gentleman in every way and is the center of much spirited attention from both Jane and Sylvia. Inevitably, both get to “know” him- if you know what I mean.

In a truly bizarre turn, Evor explains that he was created in the jungle like Adam, with no Earthly parents and a natural innocence that not even sex with multiple women in a single day can ruin. This needless fantasy element adds a touch of extra silliness to the proceedings that pays off later in the film when we see that even a gut full of bullets can't seem to kill the studly Jungle King. Of course we learn that Jane's father has died and there is some grief-stricken sexual activity to help keep our interests from flagging. All goes well until the group locates that (not so) hidden tribe when Silvia and Hank put their secret plan to poison everyone with candy into effect. The evil twosome hope to cash in and make off to Brazil with the jewels to live a life of hedonistic fun. As you might expect, things don't go as planned.

If this film is a good example of the majority of narrative porn movies of the 1970s then I can see why the genre died. This movie is a damned mess from beginning to end with the only draw being the actual sex scenes. Everything is poorly done. The actors are mostly clueless, the script is a third-grader's idea of a dirty Tarzan story and the stupid 'steal the jewels' plot is dropped in so randomly halfway through the movie that it seems like a later addition to the whole thing. Adding to this general slapdash feel is the fact that one sex scene is repeated a couple of times and sloppy inserts are used to imply that Kathie Kori actually performed sexually for the cameras. And did I mention the sequences of an orgy with unrelated characters that are dropped into the film at random intervals to spice things up? Ugh! Also, this is the first movie I've seen that uses shots of the movie's poster to display the opening credits - now that is an effective way to save money.

This is not a film to my tastes but I am still glad that Vinegar Syndrome has released it and continues to release sleazy titles of this type. These artifacts from cinema's underbelly are fascinating and worthy of preservation even if their appeal is quite limited. I suspect that fans of 'classic' porn will eat this up.

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Rod Barnett blogs at The Bloody Pit of Rod

BY JOHN M. WHALEN

“Alamo Bay” (1985), a film directed by the late Louis Malle, was an opportunity for the French filmmaker, who directed “Atlantic City,” “My Dinner with Andre,” and “Elevator to the Gallows,” to add another great film to his resume. Unfortunately, the movie, based on the true story of conflict between American and Vietnamese fisherman in Texas, is an opportunity squandered.

In the years following the Fall of Saigon in 1975, a million Vietnamese refugees fled to the U.S. Some of them settled in communities along the Texas Gulf Coast. Their mere presence antagonized the local fisherman, many of whom were Vietnam vets. One in particular, Shang Pierce (Ed Harris) hates “gooks” and feels threatened by the competition of the Vietnamese, who proved to be excellent fishermen and hard workers. He’s married, but, of course, his wife is a nag, so he resumes an affair with Glory (Harris’s real life wife Amy Madigan), who has come back to Alamo Bay to help her ailing father Wally (Donald Moffat) run his shrimp wholesale business. The film centers on the tensions that build between them when Shang loses his boat because of missed payments. He blames Glory and her father for hiring Vietnamese fisherman.

Into this seething caldron of resentment, comes Dinh (Ho Nguyen) a young Vietnamese immigrant looking for relatives who live there. He lands a job at Wally’s, putting himself in the middle of the conflict between Glory and Shang. When Glory defends Dinh’s right to work, Shang perceives it as a betrayal and thinks she has more than just a humanitarian interest in the young man.

Tensions build between the American and Asian shrimpers. Malle and screenwriter Alice Arlen, do a good job showing the escalation of bad feelings, and have no compunction about presenting a one-sided view of the conflict. The Vietnamese are shown as good people who only want to work hard, live a peaceful life, and be able to pursue their version of the American Dream. The Americans, for the most part, are shown as bigoted rednecks, who want the Vietnamese gone. Enter Ku Klux Klan organizer (William Frankfurter), who tells them history has shown white people will prevail. He begins to outline a strategy. But Shang has no patience for slow tactics. He wants action.

The next morning armed men, some with KKK robes and hoods, go out in their boats and take some pot shots at the Asians. Violence increases as crosses are burned and Molotov cocktails tossed.

With this basic situation, based as it is on real-life events, this should have been a compelling, emotionally-involving film. But, somehow, it isn’t. Arlen’s script may be the problem. Arlen, who co-wrote “Silkwood,” another socially conscious film, hasn’t pulled her punches as far as showing which side she’s on. But when it is laid on this heavily, when characters become stereotypes. who seem to exist only to prove a point, the drama is undermined by polemic. And, oddly enough, where there should be commentary on the racism and injustice in the story, Malle instead, presents the scenes of hatred and violence in a flat documentary-like style, that leaves you uninvolved. I kept thinking what Oliver Stone would have done with a story like this.

“Alamo Bay”’s greatest failure, however, is the lack of insight into the character of Dinh, who is presented as a positive-thinking hard worker who just wants to fit in and achieve success. Since he is really the central character of this story, as a symbolic representation of the entire Vietnamese community, the filmmakers should have invested more depth to his character. Nowhere are we shown the real impact the situation in Alamo Bay has on him personally. Even worse there was a real chance to explore the whole tragic series of events that resulted in him and his people having to leave their country. There is one only one almost ludicrous exchange of dialog between Dinh and Glory where she asks what happened to him in Vietnam. He says the Viet Cong raided his village and he had to flee into the jungle. While hiding there he says he had to eat grass. “Eat Grass!” Glory says, as if it were the equivalent of surviving the Mai Lai Massacre. A better writer would have given a deeper picture of what people like Dinh experienced as the result of war. Eating grass would be pretty low on the list of hardships they had to endure.

Despite its shortcoming, however, “Alamo Bay” is worth viewing if only because it dares to deal with a subject most filmmakers would be afraid to tackle. Harris and Madigan, who worked together in “Places in the Heart,” the excellent HBO flick, “Riders of the Purple Sage,” and “Pollock” are excellent. Ho Nguyen as Dinh stayed close to the surface of his character, which was probably what Malle and Arlen wanted of him. And more’s the pity.

“Alamo Bay,” is a one of the limited edition (3,000 copies) Blu-Ray discs from Twilight Time. Aside from a separate audio channel for Ry Cooder’s atmospheric score, the theatrical trailer, and a booklet giving some background on the story written by Julie Kirgo, there are no extras. An audio commentary, at least by Harris, Madigan or Arlen, would seem to be a required feature for a disc selling at $29.99. But that’s all you get.

The transfer to Blu-Ray, however, is flawless and the 1.0 DTS HD Master audio is very good. It’s disappointing that the original film did not have a stereo soundtrack, but the separate track for Cooder’s music (which is similar to the score he wrote for “Paris, Texas)” is in stereo and sounds just fantastic.

Bottom line: “Alamo Bay” deserves viewing. It’s a worthwhile attempt to make a serious film about an important subject. Louis Malle is no longer with us, but thank goodness there are always a few directors around, like him, who dare to make such films. They are, sadly, becoming an endangered species. Kudos to Twilight Time for preserving this one to Blu-Ray.

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BY TIM GREAVES

(This review pertains to the UK Region 2 DVD release.) 

Scandinavian scientist Nils Ahlen (John McCallum) has developed a process via which sound impulses can be converted into electrical energy. When his wife Helga (Mary Laura Wood) and assistant Sven (Anthony Dawson) abscond with vital components of the revolutionary device, Ahlen teams up with Police Inspector Peterson (Jack Warner) to chase them down. The pursuit takes them into the icy, blizzard-wreathed wilderness where they seek the assistance of Lapp reindeer herders to help them survive the perilous terrain.

Written and directed by thrice Bond-helmer Terence Young more than a decade before he first brought the celebrated spy to the screen, 1951’s Valley of Eagles was shot over a couple of months in testing Norwegian weather conditions. The film has taken a fair bit of stick in the past, the main target of viewer negativity being that what kicks off as a promising B-grade crime thriller quickly devolves into a life-evaluating melodrama. A bit disappointing, perhaps, but that doesn’t make it a bad movie, so – always one to buck the trend – I’m pleased to have the chance to redress the balance here. There’s no disputing that 60-something years after the fact, the plotting of Valley of Eagles could be classed a little mundane; cinema has come a long way in the years since the picture first saw the light of a projector bulb (though not always for the better), and mundane is an accusation that could be levelled at a hefty percentage of the cinematic output of that period. Yet that doesn’t translate as making it a pointless investment of one’s time.

Young’s narrative is never less than engaging, peppered as it is with outbursts of brutality (wolves are vigorously slain with ski poles) and exotic sex appeal (courtesy of Nadia Gray, hair appealingly braided, as tough Lapp maiden Lara). There’s also a terrific set piece in which a pack of wolves assail a team of herders astride reindeer, the wolves themselves then set upon by the titular birds of prey. The cast does a serviceable job with the material at hand, particularly an underused Dawson, the consummate shifty-eyed baddie (see also Dial M for Murder, Dr No and Midnight Lace for similarly sinister turns). Future Dixon of Dock Green Jack Warner, here bearing a remarkable resemblance to Bernard Lee, makes for a staunch lead and if McCallum comes across as a little starchy that’s because the character he’s portraying is. It’s also nice to see an early, albeit minor appearance by Christopher Lee wearing an amusingly wide-brimmed hat. The film certainly benefits from its exhaustive, picturesque location shoot, with some splendid Harry Waxman cinematography on offer (Pinewood-lensed back projection shows up only occasionally) and suitably dense, if not especially memorable Nino Rota compositions serve to underscore the gravity of the onscreen drama.

Valley of Eagles is available on DVD from Fabulous Films/Freemantle Media. The print utilised has certainly seen better days, with a surfeit of light scratches and various accumulations of detritus in evidence throughout. But one should overlook such deficiencies and be grateful for this DVD premiere of what I’d have no hesitation in labelling a “golden oldie”. The disc supplements are slight, though still worth perusing, and comprise galleries of hand-coloured lobby cards, press stills and poster art, along with interesting textual material that one presumes has been lifted from the original release pressbook.

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BY DOUG GERBINO

The good folks at Warner Archives have just released a burn-to-order DVD collectionthat includes all the M-G-M shorts that the Three Stooges made at that legendary studio with their one-time manager Ted Healy. “Classic Shorts from the Dream Factory Volume 3” featuring Howard, Fine and Howard (aka Moe, Larry and Curly) features six zany shorts that need to be seen to be believed. They are:

“Plane Nuts” (1933) wherein Ted Healy attempts to get through a song with interruptions from the Stooges in between big production numbers from M-G-M's feature film “Flying High”. The Stooges’ routine is based on their vaudeville stage act.

“Roast Beef and Movies” (1934) is a two-color Technicolor short that features Jerry (Curly) Howard -without Moe & Larry- acting in support of Greek-dialect comedian George Givot. This short gives Curly the opportunity to act as the middle Stooge and allows comedian Bobby Callahan to play the kind of character Curly would normally play. The short incorporates two musical numbers lifted from earlier M-G-M Technicolor features, "The Chinese Ballet" (taken from “Lord Byron Of Broadway” (1930) and "Raising The Dust", which originally from “Children Of Pleasure” (1930).

“The Big Idea” (1934) casts Ted Healy as an “Idea Man for Hire” who comes up with insane concepts for film plots. The Stooges drop in and out playing the old Civil War tune "Marching Through Georgia" with soaking results. A deleted number from M-G-M's “Dancing Lady” rounds out this final M-G-M short made by the Stooges.

“Beer and Pretzels” (1933) presents the second M-G-M short made by Healy and the Stooges. In this one, we find them being thrown out of work in a theater and getting jobs as performing waiters in a German-style beer hall with predictable results.

“Nertsery Rhymes” (1933): In this, the first M-G-M short to feature Ted Healy and His Stooges, the boys play Healy's "sons". Their pleas to their Papa to tell them a bedtime story leads to a lot of eye gouging, cranium smacking and hair pulling in the pre-code film. The use of two-strip Technicolor was predicated on the fact that most of the shorts in this collection (and many other from M-G-M between 1930 - 1934) were making use of material from an abandoned feature film M-G-M made in 1930 entitled “The March of Time”, which had been shot in two-color Technicolor. M-G-M was a factory known to never waste anything, including valuable film stock. Thus, the Healy and the Stooges footage was filmed to wrap around these big production numbers, that were largely designed by ballet's Albertina Rasch (the wife of legendary film composter composer Dimitri Tiomkin).

“Hello Pop!” (1933) The real prize of this collection is this Technicolor gem. Restored in 2013 after being lost for over 40 years, this film had its resurrection last year at Film Forum in New York City. Through the hard work of The Vitaphone Project, YCM Laboratories and the good folks at Warner Bros., this "Holy Grail" for Stooge fans can now be yours. In this short, Ted Healy is a nervous wreck who is trying to put on a Broadway show. Besides dealing with temperamental artists (the great Henry Armetta, among them) he has his three "sons" to deal with, and you can guess who plays them. Two Technicolor musical numbers round out this short.

Picture quality is excellent, particularly when you consider that “Hello Pop!” was made from the only existing 35mm print. If you love the Stooges, as well as historic golden oldies, this release is a “must”. Get it, and sit back and "NYUK" it up.

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By Howard Hughes

(The following review is of the UK release of the film on Region 2 format.)

In Roy Ward Baker’s 1960s comedy-drama Two Left Feet, Michael Crawford plays Alan Crabbe, a clumsy and unlucky-in-love 19-year-old who begins dating ‘Eileen, the Teacup Queen’, a waitress at his local cafe. She lives in Camden Town and there are rumours that she’s married, but that doesn’t seem to alter her behavior. Alan and Eileen travel into London’s ‘Floride Club’, where the Storyville Jazzmen play trad for the groovers and shakers. Eileen turns out to be a ‘right little madam’, who is really just stringing Alan along. She’s the kind of girl who only dates to get into places and then starts chatting to randoms once inside. She takes up with ruffian Ronnie, while Alan meets a nice girl, Beth Crowley. But Eileen holds a strange hold over Alan and at a wedding celebration of their friends, Brian and Mavis, they are caught in bed together – which ruins his relationship with Beth and gets him on the wrong side of Ronnie and his flick-knife.

‘Two Left Feet’ is a pretty gritty Brit-com of misunderstood youth and romantic entanglements. It’s the antithesis of Cliff Richard’s day-glow musical fantasies ‘Summer Holiday’ and ‘The Young Ones’, and closer to kitchen sink dramas: the roughness of ‘Beat Girl’ or the tragicomedy of ‘Billy Liar’. The inspired cast is a major asset, with several of the roles providing early opportunities for future stars. Michael Crawford went on to massive fame in the TV series ‘Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em’ as clumsy, socially inept Frank Spencer. He’s also went on to appear in some very good British film comedies in the 1960s, including ‘The Knack…and How to Get It’, ‘The Jokers’ and ‘How I Won the War’. Nyree Dawn Porter, cast as Eileen, was memorable as Irene in TV’s ‘The Forsyte Saga’. Porter is excellent here as the sexy seductress and lights up the screen whenever she appears. Another of the clubgoers is played by David Hemmings, who oozes cool and class as Brian. Julia Foster, from ‘The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner’ and ‘Alfie’, plays Beth. The appropriately-named Michael Craze plays psycho Ronnie, Dilys Watling is Brian’s girl Mavis and Hammer Films’ regular Michael Ripper played her Uncle Reg. Cyril Chamberlain shows up as garage owner Mr Miles and David Lodge appears Alan’s cocky co-worker Bill. James Bond’s M crops up again, with the ubiquitous Bernard Lee playing Alan’s father, a policemen. British rock ‘n’ roller Tommy Bruce performs the title song, ‘Two Left Feet’, in imitable bellowing style, while the band in the Cavern-like ‘Floride Club’ is Bob Wallis and His Storyville Jazzmen.

‘Two Left Feet’ was based on the 1960 novel ‘In My Solitude’ by David Stewart Leslie. Wide-eyed, but strangely disillusioned, the protagonists of this story are caught in a period snapshot between the dour 1950s and the soon-to-be-fab Sixties. The sequences shot in London, including near the statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus, locate the film historically to a very specific time and place. The cinema billboards display adverts for ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ and ‘How the West Was Won’, but on Alan’s visits ‘Up West’, he prefers to frequent the more niche ‘Bijou Cinema’, which is showing Harrison Marks’ nudie feature ‘Naked as Nature Intended’, starring ‘The Fabulous Pamela Green’. The social mores of the era are also to the fore – when offered a smoke on her way to the club, Eileen is aghast: ‘Cigarette? Not in the street thank you!’. Membership of the ‘Floride Club’ is 12/6 (a pre-decimalisation twelve shillings and sixpence) and sensible Alan decides he can’t get married yet because he’s too young and financially challenged. The wedding reception has none of the scale of modern wedding celebrations – it’s just a gathering at a private residence, with a buffet, party games and sing-song at the piano. The generational gap is keenly delineated in the relationship between Alan and his father. His father’s generation’s upbringing was strict – they learned respect, lived by the rules and didn’t question them – while Alan’s generation is unfettered by such notions. The presumption is that they can be anything, do anything and be free as air.

‘Two Left Feet’ is part of Network’s ‘The British Film’ collection. It’s another British Lion release shot at Shepperton Studios and the disc includes an image gallery and promotional material pdf. It is rated 15 in the UK, presumably for the mild sexual promiscuity, the prominent use of knives by Ronnie and the beating Alan receives from Ronnie’s heavies. The film is another interesting 1960s British film rescued from obscurity and is worth seeing for both Hemmings and Porter, and the energetic dance moves in the ‘Floride Club’. It’s worth mentioning that if you like this type of 1960s film, then check out Hemmings’ excellent film ‘Some People’ (1962), also from Network, with he and Ray Brooks playing bikers who form a rock ‘n’ roll band.

DVD format: Region 2

Rated: 15

RRP: £9.99

Screen ratio: 1.66:1

90 mins B&W

Text © Howard Hughes/Cinema Retro 2014

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(This review pertains to the UK Region 2 DVD release)

By Tim Greaves

Based on the novel “Whispering Woman” by Gerald Verner, 1953’s seldom-seen whodunit Noose for a Lady marked the directorial debut of Wolf Rilla (Village of the Damned), and stars a host of reliable British stalwarts. A quaint, cliché ridden drama, it offers up a modicum of intrigue and sufficient suspense to tickle the palate of the most jaded aficionado of such fare. It even pulls a satisfying rabbit out of its hat with a final reveal that this seasoned reviewer readily admits he hadn’t seen coming. Yes, of course it creaks a little, but if nothing else it’s guaranteed to hold your attention for its succinct 70-minute runtime.

Adapted for the screen by Rex Rienits, it hits the ground running with the sentencing to death by hanging of Margaret Hallam (Pamela Alan), found guilty of poisoning her husband, despite her protestations to the contrary. With just seven days until Margaret’s execution, her stepdaughter Jill (Rona Anderson) decrees she will find the real killer. Assisted by Margaret’s determined cousin, Simon Gale (Dennis Price), that’s precisely what she sets out to do.

All the requisite ingredients of the quintessential British whodunit are present and correct here, first and foremost the gathering of deliciously suspicious characters – each of whom had the means and motive to bump off Hallam – which includes the barbiturate dispensing doctor (Ronald Howard), the gossiping spinster (Esma Cannon), the disgraced major (Colin Tapley), the irascible ex-con (Robert Brown), and family friends with secrets to hide (Charles Lloyd Pack and Melissa Stribling). These are characters who utter such lines as “There’s something I must tell you – meet me tonight”, immediately signing themselves up for an early trip to the grave before they have the opportunity to blab. Also in situ is that feather-in-the-cap moment for every amateur sleuth, the Poirot-esque summoning of the suspects to the drawing room to reveal the killer’s identity. In this instance the murderer is revealed to be…(the light snaps out…a gunshot sounds…a scream echoes through the darkness)… well, you’ll just have to buy the DVD to find out.

Fortuitously Noose for a Lady has just been issued on disc by Network Distributing as another welcome addition to its valuable “The British Film” collection. A brand new transfer from the original film elements, aside from a few minor crackles and pops on the soundtrack, it’s a stellar presentation and well worth investing in. Bonus features comprise a trailer (preceded by a nostalgia evoking censor’s card classifying it as a “U trailer advertising an A film”) and a small gallery of promotional art and press stills. A word about the galleries included on Network’s releases: Even though those included on many titles are slender affairs, all kudos to the company for taking the time to assemble such materials instead of taking the easy route and simply batching together some pointless frame-grabs and peddling them as worthy supplementary incentive; there have been far too many perpetrators of that crime.

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