BY LEE PFEIFFER

Once upon a time a highly successful film director named Blake Edwards teamed with his very popular actress wife to make a big budget Paramount musical called "Darling Lili". Released in 1970, the WWI-era movie was a major flop. Edwards blamed studio head Robert Evans for having made significant cuts to the final version of the film, though Paramount maintained that the film's budget had gone out of control and they had to exercise their right to salvage it through whatever means necessary. Several years later, Edwards had a contentious relationship with MGM that  was exacerbated by the studio altering his final cuts of "The Carey Treatment" and "Wild Rovers". Hell hath no fury like a director scorned, especially a director who was not lacking in self-esteem. Ultimately, Edwards sought his revenge with the release of his notorious 1981 madcap comedy "S.O.B."  The movie is a take-down of the film industry, presenting an ugly picture of Hollywood as a place populated by crooks, shnooks, disreputable studio brass and disloyal hangers-on all willing to sell their souls to advance their careers. Doubtless, Edwards was done wrong by certain studio executives but by all accounts, he wasn't "Mr. Popularity" either. Edwards had fractious working relationships with many people including Peter Sellers, with whom he made several successful "Pink Panther" films despite the fact the men came to loath one another. I was having lunch with a former studio big wig in 2010 when I informed him that the news just broke that Edwards had died. His response: "It's a shame it took so long." Ouch! 

Edwards was indeed multi-talented. He was capable of directing successful dramas ("Days of Wine and Roses") and the occasional thriller ("Experiment in Terror") but his niche was comedy and for a period of years he produced some great successes including "Operation Petticoat" and "Breakfast at Tiffanys" as well as the best-received Inspector Clouseau films ("A Shot in the Dark" and "The Pink Panther".) By the 1970s, however, his films were under-performing. In 1975, more out of necessity than sentimentality, he and Peter Sellers returned to the "Pink Panther" franchise and scored three more hits. "S.O.B." was his most personal film, however, and allowed him to figuratively put his considerable list of enemies in his cross-hairs. Edwards wrote, produced and directed the film which boasted an impressive all-star cast, including Julie Andrews, who would break new ground in her career by famously baring her breasts (thus causing Johnny Carson to quip to Andrews that he was thankful to see that "the hills were still alive!")

The film begins with a comical suicide attempt by once-esteemed film director Felix Farmer (Richard Mulligan), who can't cope with the demise of his career due to the catastrophic boxoffice returns on "Night Wind", his mega-budget family musical starring his wife Sally Miles (Julie Andrews). Felix bungles the attempt which will become a running gag throughout the film as fate keeps preventing him from taking his own life. Now suffering from a mental illness, Felix is convinced that he has heard advice from God about how to salvage his film and career. He approaches the Machiavellian studio chief David Blackman (Robert Vaughn, whose character is supposedly based on Robert Evans.) Felix offers to reimburse the studio for their investment in the musical so that he can own all the rights and reshoot it as a pornographic production complete with the songs intact, only with an S&M take. Blackman jumps at the chance to redeem his own reputation and agrees, but Sally is a tough sell. Her entire career has been built on playing sweet, innocent characters, much as Andrews's career was defined in the early days. She is appalled at Felix's mental state and the fact that he hocked their entire net worth to pull off this madcap scheme. She turns to the film's original director, Tim Culley (William Holden) for advice and he and their mutual friend, quack physician Irving Finegarten (Robert Preston) for counsel. They both convince her the daffy scheme might work and would prove to be a good career move. With Sally reluctantly immersing herself into a sex-filled musical, word around Hollywood gets out that Felix might actually be creating a potential blockbuster. This causes Blackman to renege on the deal. Felix now goes entirely off the deep end and "kidnaps" the reels of his completed film in order to thwart Blackman from exploiting him.

Movies that present Hollywood as a soulless climate are as old as the film industry itself but "S.O.B." is in a class of its own in this regard. There are no sympathetic characters. As Felix devolves into complete madness, his family, confidantes and friends all conspire to take advantage of him for their own selfish purposes. Edwards presents a Devil's Playground of cheating lovers, emotionless sex and untrustworthy partners. It was a parlor game back in the day to guess which real-life personalities were being portrayed on screen. For example, there was little doubt that Shelly Winters' obnoxious talent agent was based on the much-feared Sue Mengers. Loretta Swit, playing the film's most grating character, seems to be a compilation of every gossip columnist who Edwards grew to loathe. Other well-known stars are also used to good effect including Larry Hagman, Robert Webber, Robert Loggia, Marisa Berenson, Stuart Margolin and Craig Stevens. Ostensibly, the star is Richard Mulligan, who gives a very spirited performance that is ultimately undone by Edwards having him cross over into theater of the absurd. Because of the large cast, most of the actors don't get much screen time but those who do resonate very well especially Andrews, Holden, Preston, Webber and Vaughn. The latter has a show-stopping scene that almost rivals the unveiling of Andrews' prized bosoms when it is revealed that his character of the macho studio executive has a passion for making love to his mistress (Berenson) while he is attired in female lingerie.

"S.O.B." is genuinely funny but, as previously stated, Edwards goes overboard into silliness especially in the last third of the film. Until then the events that we witnessed have been mostly plausible but Edwards goes over the top and resorts to almost slapstick as well as introducing some characters such as a manic Asian chef and an Indian guru (played respectively by Benson Fong and Larry Storch) who would be far more at home in a Pink Panther movie. Still, it remains a biting satire that is mostly quite enjoyable- and it's all accompanied by a score from Edwards' frequent collaborator, Henry Mancini.

The Warner Archive Blu-ray looks gorgeous and contains the original trailer.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

The Warner archive has released the 1972 crime comedy "Every Little Crook and Nanny" as a burn-to-order DVD. The film boasts an impressive cast with Lynn Redgrave top-lined as Miss Poole, a comically stereotypical prim and proper young British woman of good manners who operates an etiquette school for boys and girls. When she is evicted so that the school can be utilized as a site for nefarious doings by crime kingpin Carmine Ganucci (Victor Mature), Miss Poole is facing destitution and the loss of her livelihood. When she goes to Ganucci to explain her plight, she is mistaken for one of many young women who are applying to be the crime lord's family nanny. He is instantly smitten by her good manners and eloquent speech and hires her on the spot. Miss Poole devises a plan to take advantage of the situation. She accepts the position and is soon regarded as an indispensable employee of Ganucci and his wife Stella (Margaret Blye). It seems Miss Poole is the only one who can control the couple's independent-minded, pre-pubescent son Lewis (Phillip Graves.). The kid is a real handful. He's sassy, sometimes arrogant and not prone to following orders, even though he seems to idolize his father for being a feared Mafia don. When Carmine and Stella leave for a romantic vacation in Italy, Miss Poole enacts an audacious plot to stage a phony kidnapping of Lewis in the hopes that she can extort just enough money from Carmine ($50,000) to reopen her etiquette school in another location. To carry out the scheme she enlists her former piano player at the school, Luther (Austin Pendleton) to pose as the kidnapper. The perpetually tense, nerdy young man bungles virtually every aspect of the caper but manages to get Lewis back to his apartment, where the young "victim" forms an instant bond with Luther's doting wife Ida (Mina Kolb), who not only views Lewis as the child she always wanted but uses his presence to chastise her husband for their sexless marriage. Meanwhile, Miss Poole reports the kidnapping to one of Carmine's low-level mob guys, Benny Napkins (Paul Sand). Benny is less-than-happy about being chosen to help Miss Poole deal with the kidnap situation, especially since he knows Carmine will have him murdered if Lewis is not returned safely. Miss Poole assures him that, if they can devise a ruse to get Carmine to send the $50,000 to them, they can retrieve Lewis before Carmine even realizes a kidnapping has occurred. To carry out this aspect of the plot, she goes to Carmine's lawyers (Dom DeLuise and John Astin), who immediately realize that their lives are on the line if they don't get Lewis back safely. An unexpected plot device is introduced wherein Carmine, oblivious to his son's fate, enters a deal with some minor criminals in Italy that requires payment of a sum of money that coincidentally equals the ransom demand. From this point, everyone gets confused (including the viewer) as the main characters scramble about, often working against each other's interests in order to save Lewis as well as their own lives. One of the more off-the-wall elements of the film is dual personality of Miss Poole, who generally acts like a dowdy Mary Poppins-like personality, but who is willing to drop her knickers in order to keep Benny Napkins in line. 

The cleverest aspect of the film is it's witty title. Unfortunately, the screenplay, based on the novel by Evan Hunter,  doesn't carry through on a promising scenario despite (or because of) the fact that it was developed by three writers. The director, veteran screenwriter Cy Howard, who had enjoyed a recent success with Lovers and Other Strangers, keeps the pace brisk and sometimes frantic, and gets spirited performances from a fine cast (Austin Pendleton is most amusing). However, the film never delivers the belly laughs the scenario seems to promise and the movie ends up being more likable than genuinely funny. The DVD includes an original trailer that amusingly plays up the return of Victor Mature as a leading man ("The ORIGINAL Victor Mature!"). Mature, who hit it big in the 1940s and 1950s, had only appeared sporadically on film in the decade prior to this movie. The film does afford him a rare opportunity to show off his skills with light comedy, and he delivers a very funny performance.

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Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

HOLLYWOOD, Calif. – Hailed as “one of the best TV shows of 2018” (RogerEbert.com) and “absolutely terrifying” (Rolling Stone), “THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE” arrives on Blu-ray and DVD October 15, 2019 from Paramount Home Entertainment. 

Certified Fresh with a 92% rating on Rotten Tomatoes and nominated for six Saturn Awards, including Best Streaming Horror & Thriller Series, “THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE” has been renewed by Netflix as an anthology series, telling a new story each season.

“THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE” 3-Disc Blu-ray and 4-Disc DVD sets feature all 10 episodes from the acclaimed first season, including, for the first time, three Extended Director’s Cut episodes with never-before-seen content.  The Blu-ray and DVD also include exclusive commentary by creator and director Mike Flanagan on four episodes.

“THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE” is the critically acclaimed, modern reimagining of Shirley Jackson's legendary novel about five siblings who grew up in the most famous haunted house in America. Now adults, they're reunited by the suicide of their youngest sister, which forces them to finally confront the ghosts of their pasts... some of which lurk in their minds... and some of which may really be lurking in the shadows of the iconic Hill House.

“THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE” Blu-ray & DVD sets include the following:

EP 101: Steven Sees a Ghost

Steven Sees a Ghost Extended Director’s Cut

Steven Sees a Ghost Extended Director’s Cut Commentary by Director Mike Flanagan

EP 102: Open Casket

EP 103: Touch

EP 104: The Twin Thing

EP 105: The Bent-Neck Lady

The Bent-Neck Lady Extended Director’s Cut

The Bent-Neck Lady Extended Director’s Cut Commentary by Director Mike Flanagan

EP 106: Two Storms

Two Storms Commentary by Director Mike Flanagan

EP 107: Eulogy

EP 108: Witness Marks

EP 109: Screaming Meemies

EP 110: Silence Lay Steadily

Silence Lay Steadily Extended Director’s Cut

Silence Lay Steadily Extended Director’s Cut Commentary by Director Mike Flanagan

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BY FRED BLOSSER

The fashions, set designs, and social conventions of “Midnight Lace” were finely tuned to the expectations of audiences who trooped to their local theaters to see the film on its release in 1960, making it the year’s eleventh highest-grossing production. Nearly sixty years later, those same glossy Hollywood trappings have an almost campy quaintness. How often do you see anyone wear a pillbox hat anymore, outside of a drag parade? Regardless, the film’s basic plot would still fit nicely into any of today’s TV soap operas. The principal characters would be a little younger, they’d sleep together in the same bed instead of by themselves in separate twin beds, and the male lead would take off his shirt at least once an episode to display his ripped physique -- that’s all.

Kit Preston (Doris Day), an American heiress newly married to British financier Anthony Preston (Rex Harrison) and relocated from the U.S. to London, begins receiving obscene, threatening phone calls from an anonymous stalker. Her husband and her friends are sympathetic at first, but gradually they begin to express skepticism because Kit is the only one who hears the calls. Inspector Byrnes of Scotland Yard (John Williams) is even more cynical: “We waste half our time looking for crank phone callers who don’t even exist, except in the minds of unhappy women. You’d be surprised how far a wife would go to make a neglectful husband toe the mark.” Today a comment like that would get a senior police officer censured for insensitivity if not kicked off the force, but in the mindset of 1960, his opinion seems to be supported by the circumstances. The charming but work-obsessed Anthony spends more time in the boardroom than at home, and as a newcomer to the U.K. the lonely Kit feels isolated. Even her visiting Aunt Bea (Myrna Loy, sharp as a tack and looking terrific at fifty-five) begins to wonder.

From the outset, though, the viewer knows that Kit is telling the truth, and the mystery for us becomes not whether she’s delusional, but who’s behind the threats? The script serves up a rich array of suspects. Is she being menaced by her housekeeper’s smarmy nephew (Roddy McDowell)? By her husband’s financially troubled associate (Herbert Marshall)? By Anthony’s assistant Daniel (Richard Ney), who seems to be nursing other ambitions under his obsequious facade? “So many red herrings!” as critic and writer Kat Ellinger observes in her fine audio commentary on a new Kino-Lorber Blu-ray release of the movie. A handsome construction manager overseeing a renovation next door seems to be a good guy (John Gavin), but he’s troubled by lingering wartime PTSD, and he’s been using the phone in the back room of the local pub to make calls of an undisclosed nature. When a stranger intrudes into Kit’s apartment, inconveniently disappearing when she summons help, he’s likely to become the viewer’s prime suspect, and not only because of his black overcoat and sinister cast of features. He’s played by Anthony Dawson, well-remembered (like John Williams as the police inspector) from “Dial M for Murder.” In the Hitchcock thriller, Dawson was the guy who attempted to strangle Grace Kelly. By and large, the script plays fair in planting its clues and casting our suspicions first on one character and then another, although the resolution may not surprise hardcore movie-mystery fans. The phrase “Midnight Lace” is uttered once in the film as the style of a black negligee that Kit promises to wear if Anthony takes her on their deferred honeymoon to Venice, but it doesn’t have any real bearing on the character’s plight. Still, it’s a classy and evocative title that was repurposed for an inferior, unrelated made-for-TV movie in 1981.

BY HANK REINEKE

Paging through a dog-eared magazine in a doctor’s waiting room, I happened across a checklist of the American Film Institute’s 100 Greatest Films. With a combination of surprise and disappointment, I was made aware that I’d only caught about fifty-percent of the films listed. Of the remaining 50% there were about half, assuming the proper mood, that I would be interested in seeing sometime. The remaining twenty-five percent were, to be perfectly honest, films too far out of the scope of personal interest. Regardless, I convinced myself that if I can hold on long enough to manage a pension… Well, perhaps there remained a possibility of catching up on a few of those titles as well.

Regardless, it was soul-searching time. While I have been issued an AARP card, I’m not a bona fide senior citizen yet. So why, I asked myself in painful self-reflection, have I not seen half of the one hundred greatest American films ever produced, yet have somehow managed to sit through Billy the Kid vs. Dracula at least a dozen times. Now that I think of it, I’ve sadly probably sat through this cinematic train wreck a dozen more times than even that calculation.

It goes without saying that John Carradine’s turn as Transylvania’s crown Prince of Darkness in Universal’s House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula was not nearly as iconic as Bela Lugosi’s. Carradine’s Dracula was certainly less menacingly foreign in his manner and accent. His was a more gentlemanly vampire, soft-spoken, elegantly dressed with top hat, cravat and walking stick. Though the “Immortal Count” had visibly aged since Carradine’s 1944 appropriation of the role, his sartorial style would not change a great deal when Billy the Kid vs. Dracula was unleashed in 1966. There were a few changes. While the top hat and cape remained in place, the well-manicured moustache he sported in the Universal films has been replaced with a drooping “Snidely Whiplash” soup strainer. Hanging from the pointed chin of Carradine’s triangular noggin sat a Salvador Dali-style goatee.

It was the same character in name only. In the 1940s, Carradine’s Dracula was an otherworldly figure, distinguished and mysterious. In this William Beaudine cult film he’s cast as more of a lecherous, carpet bagging lunatic with obvious bedroom eyes for the sweet and sassy Betty Bentley (Melinda Plowman). And while we’re on the subject of eyes; if Lugosi’s eyes were mesmerizing and hypnotic and Christopher Lee’s bloodshot and primal, Carradine’s are just… Well, plain goofy. Stretching his eye sockets to ridiculous parameters, Carradine’s sclera and pupils resemble a pair of bulging ping pong balls. The result is a gaze neither mesmerizing nor terrifying, but merely ridiculous. He bears the facial expression of man who witnessed in amazement as someone swallowed an enormous sandwich from the Carnegie Deli in a single bite.

“There are pictures I wish I hadn’t done,” Carradine would confess to interviewers on more than one occasion. Usually citing Billy the Kid vs. Dracula as one of these films, the actor routinely excused his signing on to such disasters since an aging actor still needed to work to pay the bills. Though the actor’s reflection is both gracious and understandable, a grain of salt is necessary to digest his belief that, “I started turning down the bad [roles following Billy the Kid vs. Dracula]. My conscience took over and I’d say I won’t read lines and vomit at the same time.” If this was true, then 1966 would have marked the demarcation line between the good, the bad, and the ugly of Carradine’s prodigious filmography. But if this is the case, then how does one explain Carradine’s presence in such delicious post-1966 cinematic trash as The Astro Zombies, House of the Black Death, Satan’s Cheerleaders, and Vampire Hookers – not to mention the four exploitative quickies he made in Mexico City in 1968? This, sadly, is to list only a few of his mid-to-late career titles. One must also graciously choose to ignore most of his walk-on work from 1970 through 1988.

There’s no point in describing the film’s ridiculous storyline in any detail. In the final tally, Billy the Kid vs. Dracula is neither a very good horror film nor a serviceable western. That’s not to say that the film is not entertaining. It’s just not entertaining in any commendable way. Director William Beaudine – famously referred to as “One Shot Beaudine” due to his economic, time-crunched shooting schedules – had been kicking around Hollywood’s second and third tier studios since near the beginning of the silent era. His specialties were second features - mostly westerns and mysteries - but he wasn’t opposed to taking on any film project if it helped to keep him employed.

Though not considered a “horror” film director by any measure, Beaudine would nonetheless helm two Bowery Boy comedies that brushed against the supernatural: Spook Busters (Monogram, 1946) and Ghosts on the Loose (Monogram, 1943). He would also work with Bela Lugosi on two “Poverty Row” horrors for Sam Katzman: The Ape Man (1943) and Voodoo Man (1944). In fact Carradine was cast in the latter film - a vintage horror film guilty pleasure if there ever was one - though the actor sadly relegated to a small supporting role with little dialogue. He and Beaudine would work together again. On this occasion the Shakespearian-trained Carradine managed top-billing status in the mad scientist flick The Face of Marble (Hollywood Pictures Corp., 1946).

Time-tested vampire tropes are pretty much honored and utilized in Carl Hittleman’s script for Billy the Kid vs. Dracula. Unless, of course, these folkloric blends might interfere with Beaudine’s frantic shooting schedule. One crew member suggested that that Beaudine managed to shoot Billy the Kid vs. Dracula in all of five days, though Beaudine insisted he shot both that film and its companion film Jesse James vs. Frankenstein’s Daughter in sixteen days total. In any event, this is the one vampire film that is unusual as it takes place almost entirely in the light of day. If a night scene had to be included as a dramatic necessity, nightfall is usually suggested – and not too convincingly - by setting a blue filter over the lens. The film’s shortfalls weren’t lost on Carradine. Once speaking of his career in film, Carradine opined, “I have worked in a dozen of the greatest, and I have worked in a dozen of the worst… I only regret Billy the Kid vs. Dracula.”

BY DOUG OSWALD

Ben Kingsley is an escaped Nazi living in Argentina in “Operation Finale” available on Blu-ray from Universal. Kingley is not just any escaped Nazi, but Adolph Eichmann, the highest ranking Nazi to escape justice after World War II. The so called “Architect of the Final Solution” has been living a quiet life in Argentina for 15 years when Israeli intelligence, Mosaad, receive information from blind German ex pat Lothar Hermann (Peter Strauss) and they set a plan in motion to kidnap Eichmann and bring him to Israel to stand trial.

The German community in Argentina is filled with former Nazis who gather for reunions and discuss their mutual hatred of Jews. Lothar’s daughter, Sylvia Hermann (Haley Lu Richardson), meets a boy named Klaus (Joe Alwyn) at the cinema. He invites her to a German party where she is appalled by the overt anti-Semitism. Lothar gets word to the Israelis that Eichmann may be the father of the boy his daughter is seeing. The Mosaad encourage Sylvia to visit the Eichmann home where she meets Vera (Greta Scacchi) and the children as well as Adolph Eichmann himself who is living under an assumed name and working as a mid-level manager. A Mossad agent confirms it is Adolph Eichmann, but they will not know for certain until they capture and interrogate him.

Mosaad agent Peter Malkin (Oscar Isaac) is part of the team assigned to develop a precision kidnapping and escape plan. As we know from history, the Israelis succeed in getting Eichmann in May 1960 and bringing him to Israel for a public trial. The agents held Eichmann at a safe house for nine days in order to confirm his identity and smuggled him out of Argentina on an El Al flight. The movie depicts the tense moments when the flight plan was waiting final approval until the flight was released for departure.

The days at the safe house are interesting as Eichmann was kept isolated, blindfolded and handcuffed to his bed. His interrogators finally get him to confirm his identity when the head of the Mosaad, Isser Harel (Lior Raz), purposely misreads Eichmann’s SS service number several times until Eichmann’s perfectionism gets the better of him and he corrects Harel. Eichmann states his desire to set the record straight on his role in the Third Reich as little more than a bureaucrat ensuring the trains ran on schedule. The fact that the trains contained human beings who were being transported to their deaths was of no concern to Eichmann and he took no responsibility for his role in the murder of millions under Nazi Germany.

The film was directed by the multi-talented actor, writer and producer Chris Weitz, best known for his work as director and writer on “About a Boy” and “The Golden Compass” as well as the writer of “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.” The movie does a nice job dramatizing this post-script to World War II and the defeat of Nazi Germany. Oscar Isaac is very good as agent Malkin, especially his interrogation scenes with Kingsley. I do have a problem with Kingsley playing the younger Eichmann in flashback scenes during World War II which make him look like a wax-work figure. The movie ends with Eichmann departing Argentina followed by brief scenes of him on trial. The film includes a coda running prior to the end credits including film of the actual trial and profiles of the agents involved with Eichmann’s capture.

BY HANK REINEKE

Scream and Scream Again (1970) is the second of three films horror maestro Vincent Price would sign onto in his late-stage years of working for American-International Pictures. This film, a very peculiar one by many standards, was bracketed by two other British horrors for A.I.P., The Oblong Box (1969) and Cry of the Banshee (1970). All three films of these films were helmed by director Gordon Hessler, who also doubled as producer of these first and third efforts.

From 1960 through 1964 A.I.P. enjoyed great success with Roger Corman’s cycle of stylistic Gothic horrors. These films were similar in many ways, often featuring a tortured and/or haunted Vincent Price in Corman’s somewhat liberal adaptations of stories by the likes of literary horror masters Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft. The successes of these films were mostly in the studio’s rearview mirror by 1965. With the ticket-buying public’s interest in Gothic horror and costume period pieces clearly on the wane, A.I.P. was doing their best to exploit the talent and drawing power of their most bankable contract star. Depending on who you ask, some argue that this trio of British A.I.P. film projects (1960-1970) ministered by Hessler and starring Price were satisfying only to a base of faithful devotees.

Both Hessler’s The Oblong Box and Cry of the Banshee – not to mention Michael Reeve’s controversial Witchfinder General (1968) – were unrelentingly grim in the presentation of their subject matter. They were all very good films, mind you – some consider the Reeves’ film a masterpiece - but their dark and serious themes and depressing atmospherics simply did not allow Price to bring his trademark mix of Devilish charm and menace to his assigned characters. It wasn’t until the releases of The Abominable Dr. Phibes (A.I.P., 1971), Dr. Phibes Rises Again (A.I.P., 1972) and Theatre of Blood (United Artists, 1973), that the ship would be righted, all three capitalizing on the veteran actor’s talent as a colorfully self-mocking, blood-letting, and black-humored eccentric.

In Scream and Scream Again, a modern day sci-fi thriller rather than a traditional horror, Price again was burdened again in a humorless role as “Dr. Browning.” The not-so-good doctor is, in fact, a mad scientist engaged in the creation of super-human “composites,” whiling away his days in the laboratory of his stately manor house. Price is, sadly, wasted in a role that could have been played by anyone. Then again none of this film’s top billed players – Price, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing – were given much to do. If Price’s is the principal star of this film, it’s simply by default. He merely enjoys the most screen time of the three principals listed… but a bit more on that later.

Dr. Browning is not a terribly interesting character; he’s too thinly drawn by screenwriter Christopher Wicking and we don’t see much of him until the film’s closing minutes. The best of Vincent Price’s on-screen characterizations are the ones where he seems relishing the role. One is never really certain if Price even has any idea what is going on around him in Scream and Scream Again. Director Hessler would more or less confirm this in subsequent interviews, confiding to one writer that he thought Price was not particularly fond of the three films he made under his direction. In the case of Scream and Scream Again, Hessler believed the actor “didn’t know what he was doing in the picture; he thought it was all weird and strange.”

If this was the case, Price was not alone in his confusion. Co-star Christopher Lee (who tragically only shares a brief single scene with Price) expressed similar sentiments. As Lee’s on screen time in this ninety-four minute film (U.S. version) lasts little more than eight minutes or so in total, he could more easily dismiss the film’s shortfalls as he wasn’t burdened with the responsibility of carrying the picture. And for a film that teamed the three-biggest horror movie icons of the 1960s and 1970s for the first of only two full-length features together, it’s something of a tragedy that poor Peter Cushing’s role is little more than a cameo. The scourge of missed opportunity is ever-present throughout Hessler’s opus.

Scream and Scream Again is credited as having been based on Peter Saxon’s 1966 sci-fi-novel The Disorientated Man. But, as with seemingly everything relating to this is film, even that’s vague. In fact there was no actual Peter Saxon; the name was a general pseudonym given to a stable of authors over-used and underpaid by a certain British publisher of mass market sci-fi paperbacks. As I’ve never read Saxon’s novel, I cannot say with any certainty if Hessler’s film is in any form a faithful, cinematic reproduction of the source material. I can attest that the director most assuredly captured the spirit of the book’s title. In the final analysis, it could be argued that Hessler’s multiple, shifting and confusing scenarios in Scream and Scream Again produced The Disorientated Viewer.

I won’t attempt to explain the film’s storyline here. In short Hessler’s mosaic narrative is a series of seemingly incongruous episodes bewilderingly stitched together. These threads do come together, somewhat un-satisfyingly, in the end. It was an unusual approach in telling this complex story cinematically but, in my personal opinion, only occasionally successful. On the other hand, the film is never dull, just confusing in its structure. It can also be argued that for a film masquerading as a police case or espionage caper, there’s no palpable sense of tension building to a satisfying climax. Nonetheless, many of the film’s scenes are memorable in standalone instances. Not particularly suspenseful, but memorable.

The mysterious villains of this film are adorned in both business suits and ersatz-Nazi regalia. It’s never overtly explained if these schemers are jack-booted Communists or Fascists, but they’re most certainly totalitarians. The bad guys are seemingly based out of some unnamed East European nation. The Stasi-like military helmets, the term “Comrade,” and a well- guarded checkpoint suggest a hostile regime resembling that of Communist East Germany. But their interest in scientifically developing an army of super-humans is… well, straight from the Nazi playbook.

Disappointingly, and as referenced earlier, the better part of the film does not prominently feature Price, Lee, or Cushing despite their shared star-billing. The film mostly follows the violent doings (and ensuing police investigation) of a renegade composite; a handsome but murderous, synthetic flesh-eating Cyborg who drives a nifty red sports coupe. His modus operandi in choosing victims is by befriending them at “The Busted Pot,” a swinging and noisy London nightclub. To tell more is to give things away. Should you require a more detailed synopsis there are plenty of erudite and thoughtful treatises on Scream and Scream Again published in books, magazines, and on-line.

BY HANK REINEKE

It would be inaccurate to dismiss Peter Cheyney’s “Lemmy Caution” as just one more James Bond knock-off. Caution was, from the outset, more of a hardboiled gumshoe than super spy. The character also pre-dates the creation of Ian Fleming’s James Bond, with Cheney having churned out ten Lemmy Caution thrillers from 1936 to 1945. James Bond’s creator was certainly conversant with Cheyney’s work in the spy/thriller canon. Fleming’s friend and biographer John Pearson would recount Fleming’s excitement when his first James Bond novel, Casino Royale (1953), was described by one critic as a “sort of Peter Cheyney de luxe.” One review enthusiastically anointed first-time novelist Fleming as “the Peter Cheyney of the carriage trade.”

Such favorable comparisons stoked Fleming’s confidence in his craft. Cheyney’s novels were great sellers in their days, reportedly selling some 1,500,000 copies at peak. Today, with the passing of time, his books are at best-dimly remembered. Much like the novels of Sax Rohmer, they are recalled mostly by bookish types interested in the time-capsule pulp mysteries of the 1930s and 40s. Cheyney’s novels – similarly to unfortunate passages and caricatures present in several of Fleming’s own aging works, to be fair – would be considered too politically incorrect in this day to appeal to most readers of contemporary mysteries.

Following the success of the publication of From Russia with Love - and the attendant hosanna’s of critical acclaim - Fleming would distance himself from the Cheyney comparisons. In a letter to his publisher Jonathan Cape, Fleming expressed a degree of wariness to the interest of the Daily Express in developing James Bond as a character in a proposed comic-strip series. While acknowledging the potential exploitative and financial windfalls of the venture, Fleming argued his champagne enterprise might somehow be devalued by his creation’s appearance in a series of cartoon strips: “A certain cachet attaches to the present operation and there is a danger that if stripped we shall descend into the Peter Cheyney class.” Fleming wasn’t alone in his newly found disapproval of Cheyney’s déclassé novels. Famed mystery writer Raymond Chandler too would dismiss Cheyney as an author having written only “one good book.”

The film adaptations of Cheyney’s “Lemmy Caution” featuring American actor Eddie Constantine would also pre-date EON’s James Bond series by nine years. The first Lemmy Caution film La môme vert-de-gris was released in France in May of 1953, one month following the publication of Fleming’s first James Bond novel that April. If Sean Connery’s tenure as James Bond was occasionally fractious and mostly disowned by the actor, Constantine was more accepting of his typecast as Lemmy Caution. It was a character of whom the American actor was rarely dismissive of.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

The year 1969 was an extraordinarily good one for movies. In addition to some of the best major studio releases of all time, the year also saw some innovative independent films. Among the most consequential was "Putney Swope", directed by Robert Downey (now known as Robert Downey Sr. to differentiate him from his offspring, the popular leading man.)  Downey is an unapologetic liberal who thrived during the counter-culture revolution of the late 1960s. "Putney Swope" seemed to be the kind of avante garde filmmaking that would never see a wide release. The film was shot almost entirely in black-and-white during a period in which the format had been deemed uncommercial for years. He also  took some broadside shots at the sacred cows of American capitalism.The movie was saved from oblivion by the owner of the Cinema V theater chain who was enthusiastic about the script and Downey's disregard for conventional opinions. Because Cinema V owned enough theaters to give the film a wide release, it ensured that the critics and public would at least be aware of its existence. No one foresaw that the film would become a highly acclaimed commercial hit. In the process, the film's poster depicting a white hand giving the middle finger salute (with a black woman symbolizing the offending digit) became a iconic image. The cast was largely unknown at the time but some of actors went on to varying degrees of fame (Allen Garfield, Allan Arbus, Antonio Fargas, Stan Gottlieb.) 

The film opens with a striking scene in which a helicopter lands in New York City. A man who appears to be an uncouth biker-type emerges carrying a briefcase and he's met by a senior executive from an advertising firm. At a board meeting, the man who arrived by helicopter informs the executives that the beer they are marketing is worthless and that beer itself is only loved by men with sexual inadequacies. He then promptly departs. This is only the beginning of a very strange journey. Soon, the hapless ad men are squabbling over whether to heed the advice or not. Then the megalomaniac who owns the agency arrives to address them, only to keel over and drop dead on the conference table. Top executives immediately rifle through his pockets and rob him of any valuables before voting on who should be the next chairman. Through an unintended fluke, the choice proves to be Putney Swope (Arnold Johnson), a middle-aged token African-American who relishes now being in charge of an agency that symbolizes hypocrisy and greed. Swope loses no time in making sweeping changes in accordance with bringing about social reforms. He fires most of the white workers and replaces them with an eclectic group of black executives, none of whom seem remotely qualified for the tasks at hand. Swope renames the business as  the Truth & Soul Agency and launches outrageous ad campaigns that are designed to offend everyone. In ads for an airline, female flight attendants are depicted dancing topless and sexually assaulting male customers. In a sweetly filmed commercial, a young interracial couple sing romantically about dry-humping. Ironically, the strategies work and Truth & Soul is making millions from clients who consider Putney to be a messiah of advertising. Soon, he's living the high life, espousing socialist/communist rhetoric and even dressing like Fidel Castro. However, Putney becomes aware of the fact that even his hand-chosen minority employees are not immune from greed and corruption. At home, his new diva-like wife takes pleasure in abusing their white servant girl.  What's the message behind all this? Who knows. Perhaps Downey is simply trying to say that capitalism corrupts across racial lines. In any event, the film ends on a bizarre, cynical note. Oh, and did I mention the casting of little people as the corrupt and perpetually horny President of the United States and First Lady who host group sex encounters?

"Putney Swope" is a brazen and entertaining film even though the script is erratic and scattershot. Much of it is tame by today's standards but the film pushed the envelope back in 1969. (I don't believe it was ever formally given a rating but it was considered to be "Adults Only" fare by most theaters.)  Much of the credit for the movie's unique look must go to cinematographer Gerald Cotts, who had never shot a feature film before. He gets some striking shots and, to emphasize the impact of Putney's offensive TV commercials, these are the only scenes that are shown in color. The performances are uniformly amusing and Arnold Johnson makes for a compelling protagonist even though Downey ended up dubbing his voice with his own, ostensibly because he said Johnson couldn't remember his lines. Some of the gags fall flat and the film as a whole is a mixed bag but there is no denying that it represents the epitome of American independent filmmaking from this era.