“MELANCHOLY NOIR”

By Raymond Benson

Sir Carol Reed has always been a stylish director, someone who could evoke a striking mood with atmospheric cinematography and lighting, setting, and the perfect compositions that placed his actors within the picturesque frames. Reed is mostly remembered for his masterpiece, The Third Man (1949), an earlier British noir called Odd Man Out (1947), and for his later Oscar-winning musical, Oliver! (1968). One of his more overlooked gems is The Man Between, another polished British noir from 1953 that obviously attempts to capitalize on what made The Third Man and Odd Man Out memorable.

The movie is a Cold War thriller set in early 50s Berlin, several years before the erection of the Wall. Like The Third Man, the story deals with wavering loyalties to the politics that govern a particular location. Here, the East-West conflict in Berlin is beginning to broil into a seriously tense situation. Nevertheless, Reed and his cinematographer, Desmond Dickinson, transform the intrigue into a gorgeously rendered, haunting treatise of melancholy that permeates the succession of expressionistic, high contrast black and white tableaux.

A young Claire Bloom stars as Susanne, an English tourist who has come to Berlin to visit her brother, Martin (Geoffrey Toone). Martin is married to Bettina (Hildegard Knef, credited as Hildegard Neff), who has a mysterious connection with former German lawyer Ivo (James Mason, displaying a somewhat awkward German accent, but it’s effective enough). Ivo seems to be in trouble, as a lot of men in trench coats or uniforms are looking for him. Even though the man is decidedly bad news, Susanne falls in love with Ivo. Without spoiling the revelations of the story, suffice it to say that Ivo is involved in nefarious arrangements with the East Germans, but at the same time yearns to be in the West. Unfortunately, Susanne gets caught up in the tangled web and finds herself stuck in the Eastern bloc; hence, a good portion of the film centers on the harrowing attempts to get her back to the West without the authorities closing in.

While The Man Between is beautiful to look at and well-acted, the plot is a bit muddled—we’re not really sure what Ivo is actually doing until late in the game, and even then it’s not very clear. There are also some believability issues regarding Susanne’s attraction to Ivo, but I suppose since he’s a young, handsome James Mason, it’s all good. It really doesn’t matter, for the moodiness and the melodrama carries one through the picture with grace and a good deal of suspense, even if we’re not entirely sure what’s going on.

Kino Lorber’s new 1920x1080p Blu-ray is indeed an exquisite presentation—the image is sharp and crystal clear. It comes with an audio commentary by film critic and author Simon Abrams. The supplements are impressive. Of special interest is the nearly 45-minute retrospective of Carol Reed’s career, featuring several talking heads, including John Boorman, and film clips. There’s also a long, wonderful audio interview with James Mason, who is a much funnier man than we’ve often been led to believe. A short video interview with Claire Bloom is also enlightening, and various trailers round off the package.

The Man Between is a good example of one of the more high-class, bigger-budget productions coming out of the U.K. in the early 1950s.

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The BBC has discovered an archive of photos and documents relating to the early days of the Monty Python comedy troupe which first appeared on the network in 1969. The BBC has overseen the restoration of the rare materials which have now been made available to the public. For more click here.

BY MARK MAWSTON

If you’re a fan of American Werewolf In London, Arrow’s latest Blu-ray release of the film will leave you salivating as much as the film’s titular beast. Crammed full of extras, it’s simply stunning and the key point here is that these are mainly new features and are as informative and essential as the best-ever “making of documentary, Beware The Moon by Paul Davis, that appears here, as it did on the film’s previous releases. This Arrow release is a full Rick Baker-style transformation from good to great as far as quality and content is concerned.

AWIL is easily one of Arrow’s most impressive releases and finally does justice to what is a fully fledged cult classic. Not only are the extras superb (including two feature length documentaries, the pick of which is the brand new documentary about Universal’s Wolfman mythos by Danial Griffith) but the transfer of the film itself is outstanding.

Earlier this week I asked Director John Landis what he thought of the transfer, to which he replied:

“I am delighted with the new Arrow release of An American Werewolf in London. Picture quality is excellent with strong blacks and you can choose between the original theatrical mono track or the surround stereo remix. They packed it with extras and a small poster of Graham Humphrey's excellent new art for the film”.

Not only is the content superb but the packaging is also up there and deserves to gain the recognition it deserves when it comes to the Rondo Awards next year. Along those lines I also took the opportunity to ask the man responsible for the superb new cover art, legendary poster artist Graham Humphreys (Evil Dead, Nightmare On Elm Street) about how he approached this commission, the execution of director Landis so admires:

“A fan of ‘An American Werewolf In London’ since going to the cinema during its first run, I recall leaving the London West End cinema and walking into the night, in the very same locations that I’d just witnessed on screen. It was thrilling! I was living it! This particular painting was a private commission from a fan of the film, one of a series I’ve been creating for their private poster gallery of 80s horror classics. A previous illustration of mine had already adorned the book ‘Beware The Moon’ by Paul Davis, but with a constricted brief. The new commission provided the opportunity to go ‘the full blood’ with imagery. Starting with my client’s requested elements list, my composition also included the decomposed Jack and the monstrous stormtroopers, though these additions proved not to their taste, thus resulting in a compromise and the addition of the transformation sequence (filling the otherwise vacant space). So although not satisfying my own preferred direction, the compromise has proven attractive enough to find its way beyond the private collection. It’s an honour that it has been recognized and appreciated by the director himself. At some point in the future I’ll ensure my own version makes it onto paper.”

BY TODD GARBARINI

Ken (Dale Midkiff) and Bob (Preston Maybank) land in a propeller plane and speed off on motorcycles to a large mansion. Ken calls Julie Clingstone (Debbie Laster) via radio as Bob scales the side of the building. Julie wants him to give her access to “the mainframe” when suddenly, somewhere a puppet (yes, a puppet) begins yelling Danger! Danger!, obviously aware of the imminent intrusion. Edward Brake (Wellington Meffert) is sleeping in bed in the mansion while Bob takes off his necklace and lays it on the ledge after reaching the mansion’s roof. He rotates a parabolic dish and the puppet, operating some sort of a crude computer and using telepathic powers, makes the necklace turn into a sphere (think Phantasm). Bob starts to bleed from the face and falls to his death. The action breaks into the opening credits to “Nightmare” as sung by Miriam Stockley.

If you’re still reading this, I commend you, because I would have stopped at the mention of the word “puppet”. There are few films that leave me at a loss for words (Quentin Dupieux’s 2010 film Rubber is hands-down the most infuriating movie I have ever watched; I might have to re-watch that one as I must have missed the point completely), but Henri Sala’s Nightmare Weekend (1986) is, in the words of the late film critic Gene Siskel in his review of 1978’s Surfer Girls, one of the most improbably lousy movies I have ever seen. This doesn’t stop one’s viewing of the film from being a total loss, however, as Nightmare is if nothing else that we can be absolutely sure of a time capsule of the 80’s, with artifacts of the Zeitgeist on full display: girls workout wearing leg warmers, a guy dances nearly everywhere with a Walkman in his pants, a tough guy and his Laura Brannigan lookalike chick get it on atop a pinball machine, and computer equipment is crude, big and bulky. Clocking in at 85 minutes, Nightmare seems longer than Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather Part II (forgive me for mentioning them both in the same sentence, I do apologize). Edward Brake is an entrepreneur/inventor who has created a computerized “Biometer” which changes naturally aggressive animals into docile house pets. He ultimately wants it to be used for the betterment of society, but it’s just not ready for prime time. His partner Julie can’t wait for him and goes behind his back to team up with a nefarious organization that will pay her millions for the Biometer. Edward’s daughter Jessica Brake (Debra Hunter) is a Carol Alt lookalike who, with her friend Annie (Lori Lewis) and another woman, has been chosen to be part of Julie’s experiment for which they will both be paid 500 dollars each for their involvement. The idea is to see how the Biometer works on people. The aforementioned puppet, named George, is housed in Jessica’s room and is operated by a computer named Apache, indubitably the precursor to the Apache HTTP Server (Danger! Danger! Sarcasm!), and is part of the whole operation. The motley crew, and there are a lot of characters to keep track of unnecessarily, all find themselves one way or another being affected by the Biometer.

The two biggest issues with Nightmare are the screenplay and the editing. I love bad movies that are entertaining but unfortunately this isn’t one of them. The film never seems to make up its mind as to what it wants to be: horror, soft-core porn, comedy, campy/serious? Scenes and shots are so short it’s nearly impossible to keep track of the goings-on. It’s also occasionally insulting to women as they are all pretty much on display simply for men’s gratification.

Nightmare is a Troma production which means that it exudes its own special, patented brand of strangeness. It’s difficult for another film director or producer to attempt to ape the Troma style as it is a singularly unique, signature and patented style of strangeness. Shot in July 1983 in Ocala, FL on a budget of ostensibly half a million dollars, Nightmare defies description which, in the hands of a seasoned auteur like David Lynch, can be a good thing. That isn’t the case here. Nightmare falls into the “so-bad-it’s-bad” camp. You feel like you’re watching auditions with an amateur acting troupe, although amazingly other reviewers have championed the acting in an otherwise disjointed film. That being said, if you’re a fan of the film, it has been released as a DVD/Blu-ray combo from Vinegar Syndrome. The image has been scanned in 2K and looks really nice and is a far cry from the VHS tape from 30 years ago. It also contains an interview with producer Marc Gottlieb that runs just under 13 minutes. He’s very engaging and fun to listen to as he describes the making of the film and how they promoted it at the 1984 Cannes Film Festival. Dean Gates, who did the makeup effects, speaks for nearly 23 minutes and provides us with an interesting perspective on the effects that he created in the days before movie companies made the switch to CGI for most of this type of work.

Vinegar Syndrome has put together a really nice package for this title. It has a reversible cover and very colorful artwork.

Nightmare Weekend is best viewed on a weekend while severely inebriated!

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By Hank Reineke

I must confess from the onset that I have always considered From Beyond the Grave, directed by Kevin Connor, to be the least of the Amicus horror anthologies. It’s not a terrible film by any means, but the E.C. Comics-inspired insanities and dark supernatural energies that powered the franchise for a decade or so seemed less potent this time around. This final curtain-closing portmanteau from the folks at Amicus would feature, as usual, a well-established and highly regarded cast of stars, Peter Cushing, Donald Pleasence, Margaret Leighton, Lesley-Anne Down and a trio of Ian’s (Bannen, Oglivy, and Carmichael) among them. The talent behind camera was of equal pro grade, but somehow the celluloid cocktail that resulted was far less kitschy and exhilarating than its forebears.

An anthology film is only as strong as its collected interior stories, of course, and the four tales that compromise From Beyond the Grave are, at best, weak tea. Naturally, the same can be said about any number of standalone episodes from such classic and revered television fare as, say, The Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits. These series all have their own episodic gem marks, the handful of entries that everyone recalls and can agree upon as favorites. Perhaps it was an atmospheric spine-tingler or perhaps a more thoughtful episode that ends with a novel twist. The other less-celebrated episodes that buttress these high-water marks are either – at best – only dimly recalled or simply less regarded.

Amicus was, far and away, the uncontested “studio” of honor in their presentations of these anthology horror films. The term “studio” is perhaps a bit of a misnomer as the company had no Bray House or formal studio lot as a permanent home. Taking a page from the 1945 British classic Dead of Night, transplanted American producer Milton Subotsky and his mostly stateside partner Max J. Rosenberg unleashed their first portmanteau horror Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors in 1965. That film’s success – and its dependable formula – would be tirelessly reworked a half-dozen times with such subsequent entries as Torture Garden (1967), The House That Dripped Blood (1971), Asylum (1972), Tales from the Crypt (1972), and The Vault of Horror (1973).

In an interview with Gary Smith, the author of Uneasy Dreams: the Golden Age of British Horror 1956-1976, producer Rosenberg revealed that it was the studio brass at Warner Bros. who actually approached them one last time to make From Beyond the Grave. When the completed film was finally delivered to them, Rosenberg recalled “the executives at Warner Bros. hated it” with the studio declining to even release it. In a prudent business move to minimize the financial losses of both parties, the savvy Rosenberg arranged to retrieve for Amicus the sole rights to the film. It was then that Subotsky and Rosenberg were able to negotiate a mutually less-risky, cost-saving distribution deal with Warner Bros.

To be fair, I suppose one can sympathize with the reservations expressed by the Warner executives as From Beyond the Grave (1974) is a somewhat pedestrian entry. The bloom was already off the rose for this particular sort of production, and the already struggling British film industry was still in the midst of battling up from the mat. To make matters even more trying, by the mid-1970s, interest in the two-decade long reign of stylish, stiff-lipped and sometimes winking British horror films was clearly on the wane. The horror film zeitgeist had moved back to the U.S. with audiences now grappling with dark devil-worshipping blockbusters as Rosemary’s Baby and The Exorcist. Not to mention the indie-film slashers who were waiting in the wings for their own bloody turn.

But there was no crystal ball to see the end was near in 1973, so the machine continued to grind. Amicus was not above pinching talent – especially more recognizable old-school on-screen talent as Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee – from Hammer Films Inc. The folks at Hammer were Amicus’s most famous rival in the British horror industry, and non-trainspotting fans could – and often did - misidentify their films as genuine Hammer productions. While the formidable Christopher Lee was cast in such Amicus productions as Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors, The House That Dripped Blood and the Jekyll and Hyde pastiche I, Monster, it was – unquestionably – his professional contemporary Peter Cushing who would provide the studio its principal marquee value.

Cushing would appear in no fewer than thirteen Amicus productions 1965-1976 and he, more than anyone, would become the most public face of the company’s acting troupe. Likewise, director Freddie Francis who had helmed such horror and psychological terror films as Paranoiac, Nightmare, The Evil of Frankenstein and Dracula Has Risen from the Grave for Hammer between 1963 and 1968, would bring to Amicus that studio’s recognizable flourish and attitude to his new assignments for Subotsky and Rosenberg.

The four short stories woven in the creation of From Beyond the Grave were collected from the ghost and horror tales spun by the British author R. Chetwynd-Hayes: “The Gate Crasher,” “An Act of Kindness,” “The Elemental” and “The Door.” I can’t comment on how faithful the film commits to Chetwynd-Hayes’ original stories as I have not yet had the pleasure of reading through his collected works. What I can say is that the four tales presented here aren’t particularly suspenseful or mysterious… though there is, I suppose, enough atmosphere sprinkled about to keep one interested throughout the film’s ninety plus minutes. Peter Cushing likely enjoyed only a day or two of work on the film, his contribution limited to a bit of sketchy shop-keeping – and episode bridging - at the alley storefront of his macabre antique parlour Temptations Ltd. The four tales woven are really minor morality plays that end with unforgiving Old Testament judgments. Nearly every duplicitous customer who scams the elderly Cushing gets… well, what they deserve.

The problem is that the stories chosen for the adapted screenplay courtesy of Robin Clarke and Raymond Christodoulou are not a particularly compelling or interesting. For the earlier Amicus anthologies, Milton Subotsky dutifully combed for ghoulish material through the grotesquely entertaining stories that appeared in the pages of the schlocky E.C. Comics. Though Subotsky was not, even by the account of co-producer Rosenberg, a particularly good writer, he still managed to successfully capture some of the demented E.C. Comics spirit in these earliest productions. Freddie Francis, who would go on to direct no fewer than nine films for Amicus, was impressed by Subotsky’s “passion and perseverance” for the movie business, but rued matter-of-factly in his own memoir that the producer, ultimately and alas, “wasn’t very good at making them.”

BY MARK CERULLI

Growing up, I remember listening to the CBS Radio Mystery Theater, hosted by the gifted actor, E.G. Marshall. But as the plethora of new media choices came online over the years, I had thought that kind of pure audio entertainment had gone the way of the RCA Selectavision Video Disc… The delightful Passport to Oblivion 2-disc set from Spiteful Puppet proved me wrong and is a welcome return to adventure for the ears and mind.

The production, based on James Leasor’s 1964 best-seller (filmed as Where the Spies Are in 1966) stars ex-007 George Lazenby as Dr. Jason Love, a reluctant spy lured back into service to make a seemingly routine rendezvous for MI6 – a rendezvous that turns out to be anything BUT routine. Love is no high-flying secret agent, but a comfortably retired doctor in rural England.

The story unfolds with a highly skilled cast including Glynis Barber, Terence Stamp and Nickolas Grace, all performing against a rich audio bed of sound effects, other voice actors and music cues. There’s even a Bondian-sounding theme song by the talented British singer Verity White.

Lazenby’s voice is unmistakable – his Australian accent has aged, with a rich timbre. Having recently turned 80, he does the show with the confidence of an artist who has nothing left to prove, taking us through all the twists and turns of Leasor’s elaborate plot, his famous voice conveying outrage, confusion, humor and his natural Aussie charm.

By all reports, Lazenby enjoyed the experience and unlike his one screen appearance as Bond, he’s keen to do more. Spiteful Puppet has the option to release nine more of Dr. Love’s adventures in dramatic audio format. For director/producer Barnaby Eaton-Jones, working with Lazenby was a peak experience – “It was always a coup to get George on board and the challenge of him playing a reluctant spy, rather than a super confident double-O-agent, was something that clearly appealed (to him). When you meet him, you quickly realize he was essentially playing himself as Bond. He has a swagger and a twinkle and a devil-may-care attitude that hasn't changed even though he's now hit 80 years old.”

During production, Eaton-Jones observed George displaying the same hot-blooded instincts he showed while making On Her Majesty’s 50 years ago – “… he was perkiest in the recording studio when Glynis Barber and Carla Mendonça were present (our two leading females) but, between takes, he would regale us with the antics of his past.”

In a world crowded with video games and streaming videos of every description, Spiteful Puppet’s Passport to Oblivion audio drama is a welcome return to the entertainment of old – well-crafted, detailed and absorbing.

Passport To Oblivion will be released as a 2-disc audio set in a custom illustrated sleeve on November 29, 2019 and you can order it by clicking here. 

“CLINT AND JEFF”

By Raymond Benson

It’s been 45 years since the release of Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. At the time it seemed to be one of the better Clint Eastwood vehicles produced by his company, Malpaso. Alas, the film has aged considerably along with both stars of the film—Eastwood and Jeff Bridges (who was 24 at the time of its release).

The picture was written and directed by the late Michael Cimino, who would later go on to pick up Oscar gold for the The Deer Hunter (1978). Cimino got his start with Eastwood, having co-written the script for Magnum Force (1973) and then convinced the star to take on his original screenplay that he had pitched prior to the making of Magnum. Cimino landed the job to direct as well, and the planets aligned for the budding young talent.

It's a Buddy Movie/Heist Flick/Road Picture/Action-Comedy about two common criminals—a bank robber named Thunderbolt (Eastwood), and a drifter named Lightfoot (Bridges)—who find each other by happenstance and become friends and partners. Complicating matters is Thunderbolt’s old gang, headed by the vicious sociopath Red (George Kennedy), who believes Thunderbolt ran off with the money from a previous robbery at which many of their cohorts were killed. In truth, Thunderbolt hid the cash in an old one-room schoolhouse—but when he went to claim the loot, he found that the city had built a modern school in its place. Lightfoot convinces Red to team up with him and Thunderbolt to pull off a more complicated heist as a consolation prize. They are joined by Goody (Eastwood cast stalwart Geoffrey Lewis) and the plan goes well… until it doesn’t.

Both Eastwood and Bridges make a great team. Bridges (who received a Supporting Actor Oscar nomination for his role) is so winning that he steals the movie. Kennedy is also effective as the volatile heavy. The picture is full of the kind of action (car chases, shoot-outs, fist fights) typical of Eastwood fare in the mid-70s, as well as comedy. Unfortunately, a lot of the humor is at the expense of women. This is sadly a sign of those times. Today, the bits of sexism and chauvinism sprinkled throughout the picture are cringeworthy.

The movie also suffers for playing too much to a blue-collar audience, much like Eastwood’s later comedies, Every Which Way but Loose (1978) and Any Which Way You Can (1980). There seems to be a sophomoric, redneck sensibility to the characters and presentation that might have played well in 1974, but it comes off today as crass.

Nevertheless, Kino Lorber’s new high definition 1920x1080p release looks sharp and colorful (the location shooting in Montana provides gorgeous vistas). It is accompanied by an audio commentary by film critic Nick Pinkerton. Supplements include a near-half-hour featurette on the making of the movie with a rare audio interview by the reclusive Cimino, the theatrical trailer, and a handful of TV and radio spots.

For Eastwood fans, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot is a cult film that does have a lot going for it, especially the performance by Jeff Bridges, but viewers should prudently place it within the context of when the picture was made and released.

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BY MIKE BLOOMFIELD 

A YouTube documentary film about one of Britain’s foremost movie poster artists Tom Chantrell (1916-2001) has just been released. The 51-minute film, "Tom Chantrell- The Man Behind the 'Star Wars' Poster (!977)", details Chantrell’s life and career spanning seven decades. There are interviews with family, friends and poster experts and Chantrell’s poster imagery is displayed throughout.

Director Simon Henry came to the project after unexpectedly discovering a photograph of Tom Chantrell holding up the unfinished “Star Wars” (1977) poster. “The image simply blew me away, seeing the amazing poster in its uncompleted form being held up by its creator... I couldn't get the image out of my head and the more I read about Tom's work and its significance within British film history the more I realised that someone had to put this under a spotlight. I decided to contact Tom's family. We've tried to tell Tom's story through the people who knew him best and hope we've done justice for Britain's most important poster artist, Tom Chantrell.” (Editors note: Chantrell was primarily known for his designs of British quad posters which were generally different from the posters used for the North American market.)

Chantrell was a prolific artist with a liking for colorful, dynamic almost photo-realist type painted poster illustrations. However, he was a versatile artist and able to switch styles to caricature, impressionistic, photographic and mixed-media compositions too. He is described as the “consummate” commercial artist in his field, being able both to design and illustrate posters (these functions were often separate in many advertising agencies). Chantrell could also take care of lettering and would frequently proffer his own witty tag-lines too.

In the 1930s Chantrell was employed providing technical drawings and artwork for various commercial publications. WWII then interrupted Chantrell’s career. As a conscientious objector Chantrell refused to bear arms but instead found himself in one of the most dangerous occupations in the entire military service: bomb disposal. Eventually the army recognized Chantrell’s artistic skills and he was re-deployed. After the war Chantrell resumed his career as a commercial artist and it was at this point that he began to specialize in the creation of movie poster artwork.

It is thought that Chantrell produced approximately 700 pieces of finished poster artwork during his career. Working for the Allardyce advertising agency, Chantrell concentrated on films for Warner Bros. and 20th Century Fox. Among his standout compositions were Quad poster designs for “Bus Stop” (1956), (“Cleopatra” (1963), “Bonnie and Clyde” (1967), “Bullitt” (1968) etc. Chantrell also created posters for the popular British “Carry On” franchise (1963-66) and dominated poster production for Hammer (1965-74), relishing the “sex and gore” orientation of the studios.

As the advertising industry became more “corporate” so the strong-minded Chantrell grew increasingly frustrated with what he saw as “interference” in the poster design process and in 1972 he turned freelance. With a young family and worried about where work would come from Chantrell created a handy-sized portfolio of his artwork by cutting up lots of his original paintings. This was a loss to posterity but has increased the value of what has survived.

“EARLY DIRTY”

By Raymond Benson

The filmmaker who made the iconic Clint Eastwood vehicle, Dirty Harry in 1971 also made something of an early test-run three years earlier in the form of a crime picture called Madigan. Starring Richard Widmark as a tough, cynical, and world-weary police detective in New York City, Madigan displays the same look, feel, and grit that the later Eastwood police procedural exhibits. And, like Harry Callahan, Dan Madigan doesn’t always follow the rules.

Don Siegel (credited here as “Donald” Siegel for some odd reason, for he had been “Don” in earlier films) had been a solid craftsman since the 1950s, responsible for such works as Riot in Cell Block 11 (1954), the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), the admirable remake of The Killers (1964), and Coogan’s Bluff (1968). Likewise, Madigan is a well-made thriller with a hard-boiled plot and realistic characters portrayed by an excellent cast that includes Henry Fonda, Inger Stevens, and James Whitmore.

The tale begins when Madigan (Widmark) and his partner Rocco Bonaro (Harry Guardino) screw up while attempting to bring in hoodlum Barney Benesch (Steve Inhat) for questioning, unaware that he is wanted for murder in Brooklyn. Benesch gets the upper hand on the pair and runs away with their guns. Police commissioner Russell (Fonda) isn’t happy about this, but he has other problems on his mind. Besides being involved in an adulterous relationship with a mistress (Susan Clark) that’s going south, Russell’s best friend on the force, Chief Inspector Kane (Whitmore), may be accepting bribes. Madigan has marital problems, too; his wife, Julia (Stevens), is fed up with him, for he is married more to the job than to her. As the two storylines converge, Russell orders Madigan and Bonaro to track down Benesch by following the leads of several colorful characters, including “Midget Castiglione” (Michael Dunn). Of course, the investigation culminates in a climactic shootout with tragic results.

Widmark is very good as the film’s protagonist, although the actor always seems to play “Richard Widmark” in whatever movie he’s in (except Kiss of Death, which made him a star as a psychotic killer). It is Fonda, however, who dominates the picture. Russell’s plotline is ultimately more interesting than that of Madigan’s, revealing a troubled, conflicted man who appears to have his mind on the job but his heart ready to chuck it all.

Kino Lorber’s new 1920x1080p Blu-ray looks slick and sharp, and it has optional English subtitles. An interesting audio commentary by film historians Howard S. Berger, Steve Mitchell, and Nathaniel Thompson accompanies the movie, but there are no supplements other than the theatrical trailer and some TV spots.

Madigan became a short-lived television series in the early 70s with Widmark reprising his role, but it is the 1968 feature film that packs the punch. A warm-up to Dirty Harry? Perhaps not intentionally, but Madigan is a strong entry in Don Siegel’s filmography.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Director Jan Zabeil's 2017 adventure drama "Three Peaks" won acclaim on the film festival circuit and it now comes to DVD in America via Kino Lorber. To say the film isn't for everyone is an understatement but patience is a virtue here as the glacially-paced story finally kicks into gear an hour into its 89 minute running-time.  Until then, the movie plays out so slowly that it makes Peter Weir's "Picnic at Hanging Rock" resemble "The Fast and the Furious". The film follows the emotional ups and downs of Lea (Berenice Bejo), a young French mother who is divorced from her unseen American husband. She and her German boyfriend of two years, Aaron (Alexander Fehling) are raising her young son Tristan (Arian Montgomery) and there are concerns about the nature of Aaron's relationship with him. The movie opens with the three main characters arriving for a holiday stay at a small, remote cottage located at the base of the spectacular, snow-capped Dolomite mountains in Italy. Although Lea and Aaron are clearly in a loving relationship, they are haunted by how Tristan regards Aaron, who goes above-and-beyond to ingratiate himself to the boy. However, Lea worries that Aaron is assuming the role of father to Tristan at the expensive of his relationship with his real father. (Since we never see the father, we have to rely on Lea's assurance to Aaron that he is "a good man". ) Tristan himself sees confused. At times he calls Aaron "daddy" and at other times he seems to resent his presence, a feeling echoed when Aaron confesses to Lea that he sometimes feels the same way about Tristan. Director Zabeil is in no hurry to get to any aspect of the film that resonates with any particular sense of drama. Consequently, we observe some occasional bickering and lovemaking between the couple even as we try to empathize with their dilemma. The main problem with the script (written by Zabeil) is that the character of Tristan is inconsistent. At times, he idolizes Aaron as a father figure but inexplicably at other times, he pulls cruel minor pranks on him and demands that Aaron promise to "leave my mommy alone", which would imply he has witnessed some form of abuse when, in fact, he hasn't. The bottom line is that the kid isn't particularly likable and we end up sympathizing with Aaron, who still feels like "the other man", haunted by the spiritual presence of the boy's father.The confusing presentation of the relationships isn't helped by the fact that, for some reason, the main characters alternate speaking in German, French and English.

The movie transitions to the adventure genre when Aaron takes Tristan on a hike in the mountains. Tristan disobeys Aaron and wanders away, immediately getting lost. In his desperate search for the boy, Aaron becomes seriously injured and largely incapacitated. Director Zabeil is given the opportunity to ratchet up the suspense to a full boil but opts instead to keep things merely simmering. There are some unnerving scenes but Zabeil can't quite close the deal by making them dramatic enough to keep the viewer on edge. The film ends on an intriguing note that some might find a bit too ambiguous. The small cast is uniformly excellent (the only other characters are nameless members of a rescue team) and Axel Schneppat's cinematography is suitably stunning. The movie is never boring but it also doesn't pay off in ways we anticipate.

The Kino Lorber DVD presents an excellent transfer. Bonus features are the original trailer and trailers for other art house feature films available from the company.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Actor Michael J. Pollard has passed away from cardiac arrest at age 80. Pollard's unique look and acting style propelled him to fame in the 1960s. Pollard was born in New Jersey and crossed the river to study in the famed Actors Studio. He first appeared on Broadway in the smash hit production of "Bye Bye Birdie" and quickly became a familiar face on popular television programs including  "Gunsmoke", "Lost in Space", "The Andy Griffith Show", "Star Trek", "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis", "Alfred Hitchcock Presents", "Route 66", "I Spy", "The Fall Guy", "The Girl from U.N.C.L.E.", "Crime Story", "Superboy" and "Tales from the Crypt". Pollard's trademark onscreen persona was as a lovable but dim-witted, slow moving character. The image paid off handsomely for him when was cast as C.W. Moss in director Arthur Penn's 1967 classic "Bonnie and Clyde".  In the key role, Pollard played a loyal accomplice to the infamous gangster couple. Pollard was nominated for numerous major awards for his performance including a Best Supporting Actor Oscar. The success of "Bonnie and Clyde" briefly elevated Pollard to leading man status and he starred in numerous films including "Jigsaw", "Hannibal Brooks", "Little Fauss and Big Halsey" and "Dirty Little Billy" before reverting to supporting player status. Pollard often had key roles in "B" movies such as director Rob Zombie's cult classic "House of 1,000 Corpses" but he sometimes appeared in small parts in major films such as "Dick Tracy", "Melvin and Howard", "Roxanne" and "Tango & Cash". Pollard's potential was undoubtedly compromised by his admitted problems with substance abuse, though by the 1980s he appeared to have successfully kicked his bad habits. Actor Michael J. Fox had paid tribute to Pollard by placing the "J" in his name when he first started out in show business.

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“CASTLE CAMP”

By Raymond Benson

While it’s got its defenders and fans, The Fearless Vampire Killers is not Roman Polanski at his best. It does, however, have a certain charm if one places the film within the context of when it was made and released.

Originally titled Dance of the Vampires, the movie is a comedy horror flick that is an obvious send-up of the British horror movies made by Hammer Studios that were hugely popular in the 1960s. It looks like a Hammer picture… the film stock is the same and the colors have that muted, yet oddly vibrant, appearance—and of course the blood and bosoms are in full bloom. It was a British production as well, but the film was made in ski resort locations in Italy, doubling as “Eastern Europe.”

Probably of special interest these days is the presence of Sharon Tate in a lead role, as well as her soon-to-be husband, the director himself, Roman Polanski, as the protagonist’s sidekick. Their off-screen budding romance is palpable in the movie, and, if anything, The Fearless Vampire Killers reflects a moment in time when there was no controversy in the filmmaker’s life and the future for him and his bride-to-be appeared to be rosy.

It's the story of Professor Abronsius (Jack MacGowran), a sort of Van Helsing figure, and his assistant, Alfred (Polanski), as they hunt for vampires. Tate is Sarah, the daughter of the tavern innkeeper (Alfie Bass), and Alfred falls madly in love with her. When she is taken captive by the local vampire head honcho, Count von Krolock (Ferdy Mayne), Abronsius and Alfred take it upon themselves to rescue her and destroy the count’s huge coven of undead followers, who congregate annually for a ball in Krolock’s castle.

The movie is wacky, full of slapstick, and has little true horror. There’s something of a Benny Hill sensibility that permeates it; the picture is certainly atypical of what we think of as a Roman Polanski movie. Polanski himself is quite good in his role of the 90-pound weakling who summons the bravery to complete his tasks. Tate is eye candy supreme, and she plays her role relatively straight. MacGowran, when you can understand his dialogue, is effectively comical, but it is Polanski who steals the picture.

When the film was first released in the U.S., the distributors re-cut it and added a cheap animated sequence before the credits, dubbed MacGowran’s voice with a silly-sounding one, and added the subtitle: …OR: Pardon Me, but Your Teeth Are in My Neck. The movie bombed at the time, disappeared, and was relegated to cult status over the years. Eventually, a restored U.K. version (Polanski’s preferred cut) resurfaced and was released on home video. The Fearless Vampire Killers was then re-evaluated, and it is now considered, in some circles anyway, to be one of the filmmaker’s minor classics.

The Warner Archive’s new Blu-ray release is, thankfully, the original U.K. cut, and it looks quite good in its widescreen, colorful splendor. The supplements include the U.S. animated pre-credits sequence, a vintage featurette on the making of the picture, and the theatrical trailer. English subtitles can be turned on, which is highly recommended—the dialogue, with its many accents and muddied deliveries, can be rather difficult to follow.

The Fearless Vampire Killers is an oddity, but it’s enjoyable enough to pass the time and serve as a rare happy bookmark in the life of one of cinema’s most important—yet troubled—filmmakers.

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“TESTUBULAR BELLS”

By Raymond Benson

In 1951, Ealing Studios in Britain were on a roll. The so-called “Ealing Comedies,” which became a sub-genre all their own, had become a sensation, especially when the pictures starred the versatile and charismatic Alec Guinness. Earlier that same year, The Lavender Hill Mob was one of the most popular films ever released in the U.K., and it was proving to be a hit in America as well (and would, the following year, win an Oscar for its writing).

Following hot on the heels of Lavender Hill was The Man in the White Suit, which featured Guinness as Sidney Stratton, a brilliant but over-zealous scientist who will stop at nothing to realize his dream of creating an impervious textile.

As discussed in the supplemental documentary, “Revisiting ‘The Man in the White Suit,’” the picture was made at a time when Britain was on the precipice of “the future” in terms of technological advancements, but there was in some quarters a resistance to leaving the conservative past behind. While there are plenty of laughs in the movie, it is also a cautionary tale about the dangers of advancing too quickly.

In the course of the story, the determined Sidney makes many enemies, but a few friends as well, and eventually he succeeds in creating a starkly white suit that repels dirt and stains, will not tear, and is slightly radioactive. It also glows in the dark! The problem, as the men in power come to realize, is that manufacturing the textile will put everybody else out of business—mill workers, launderers, clothing makers, and more. Therefore, the decision is made to suppress the invention—and this causes Sidney to go berserk and escape from the clutches of both the upper management and the lower workers.

There are many hilarious sequences, such as when the chemicals keep exploding and destroying the laboratory, much to the chagrin of the managers. While the brew is cooking, the test tubes and beakers bubble musically with tones and beeps—“testubular bells,” so to speak. Very amusing.

Guinness is terrific, of course, and he is supported by the superb Joan Greenwood, Cecil Parker, and Michael Gough. One highlight is the appearance of Ernest Thesiger (of Bride of Frankenstein fame) as one of the wiley, old textile industry barons.

The Man in the White Suit was nominated for the Writing—Adapted Screenplay Oscar at the same ceremony in which The Lavender Hill Mob was nominated (and won) for Writing—Original Screenplay. Ealing Studios was indeed at the top of their game in 1951.

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray 1920x1080p restoration looks quite good, a vast improvement over previous DVD releases. There are optional English subtitles, as well as a learned audio commentary by film historian Dr. Dean Brandum. Supplements include the previously mentioned documentary, the theatrical trailer, and trailers for other Kino Lorber releases.

The Man in the White Suit is classic British comedy, timeless Alec Guinness, and a swell time to be had by all in comfortable home theaters!

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“SEX, EYES, & MENTAL ILLNESS”

By Raymond Benson

What made the 1986 French picture, Betty Blue (also called 37° 2 le matin, aka 37.2°C in the Morning) so striking were three things—the explicit sex on display, the mesmerizing eyes of lead actress Béatrice Dalle, and the film’s frank depiction of mental illness and its devastating effect on a relationship.

Director Jean-Jacques Beineix had burst onto the scene with the superb, quirky, and new New Wave crime picture, Diva (1981) that embraced not only the French New Wave of the early 1960s, but the early 1980s pop New Wave of music and visuals that were exploding in all mediums at that time. Diva was a critical and commercial hit with Western audiences, although Beineix’s follow-up, Moon in the Gutter (1983), was not. The filmmaker bounced back, though, with Betty Blue, which received a deserved Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Film.

Based on a popular French novel by Philippe Djian, the story concerns a writer named Zorg (Jean-Hugues Anglade) who works various odd jobs to support himself while he struggles to pen a novel. He meets and falls in love with the fiery, unpredictable, and incredibly sexy Betty Blue (Dalle). Throughout the tale, we witness the ups and downs of their relationship through the couple’s nomadic moving around France, meeting and befriending colorful characters, getting into fights, and slowly spiraling toward tragedy. This is because Betty is seriously mentally ill (probably bi-polar, although that term was not much in use in the 1980s). Betty’s mood swings can be violent and shocking, and it’s a challenge for Philippe to continually cover for her, as well as care for the woman and keep her safe.

Both Anglade and Dalle deliver courageous and dynamic performances, and Jean-François Robin’s cinematography exhibits vibrant colors and painterly images. This is a gorgeous-looking picture, made even more attractive by the (often full-frontal nude) physicality of the two leads. While the picture is an exquisite examination of a passionate love affair, it’s also a disturbing scrutiny of a mental affliction that few people understood in those days.

When Betty Blue was first released, it was a two-hour movie. Beineix released a “director’s extended cut” in 2005 that runs three hours—and that is the version presented in the Criterion Collection’s new Blu-ray release. It’s curious why Criterion did not also include the original shorter cut, for I’m not sure the extra hour of runtime added anything of special value.

The high-definition digital restoration, approved by Beineix, is terrific, though, and it comes with an uncompressed monaural soundtrack (and the quirky musical score by Gabriel Yared is a highlight). There is a new English subtitle translation.

Supplements include an hour-long documentary on the film from 2013 with Beineix, Dalle, Anglade, associate producer Claudie Ossard, DP Robin, and composer Yared; a vintage featurette on the making of the picture that includes an interview with original novelist Djian; Le chien de Monsieur Michel (“Mr. Michel’s Dog”), a short film by Beineix from 1977; a vintage TV interview with Beineix and Dalle; Dalle’s screen test; and trailers. The booklet contains an essay by critic Chelsea Phillips-Carr.

Betty Blue may not be the perfect date movie, but it does serve to illustrate in believable and visceral tones a passionate but volatile man/woman relationship that will fascinate any lover of cinema.

By Hank Reineke

Generally speaking, I happen to watch more bad movies than good ones… and I suppose that any film which includes the breathless line, “It’s too bad we didn’t bring the dune buggy!” suggests I’m likely in the midst of another. In truth, I sort of knew this going into Arch Hall Sr.’s cult classic EEGAH (1962), a bona fide drive-in circuit masterpiece. This film has long suffered ignobility partly due to the circulation of tattered prints relegated to the Public Domain. The film’s PD fate partly explains its inclusion in practically every budget-label 50 or 100 count horror and sci-fi multi-film DVD collection ever marketed. Happily – if somewhat curiously - Film Detective has bravely rescued the film – and its fans - from the gray-market, washed-out, faded and deteriorating prints of which we’ve been accustomed, sharing with us this brand new 4K transfer to Blu-ray from an original 35mm camera negative.

The real question I suppose is whether or not EEGAH deserves such white-glove attention? I will reason that it does, especially as I have no financial interest or skin in the game. It’s nothing if not a fun film; a completely nutty and perfect jewel of non-pretentious, time-capsule-exploitative-entertainment. It’s also of some train-spotting, fan-boy interest as the film features the decidedly fresh-faced, twenty-one year old, 7’ 2” actor Richard Kiel (“Jaws” of the James Bond films) as the titular EEGAH. EEGAH is, apparently, a brooding prehistoric cave dweller who has somehow managed to survive well into the early 1960s, unnoticed, unwashed and unloved, in the Coachella Valley of Southern Californian Mountains.

EEGAH’s curious, eon-spanning survival is never explained to scientific satisfaction in Bob Wehling’s dotty script adapted from Arch Hall Sr.’s original story. Sweet Roxy Miller’s adventure-writer father Mr. Miller (also played by Arch Hall Sr.) opines – not unreasonably – that the caveman is likely the last of his line. But he gives us no indication of how he’s intellectually arrived at his totally non-scientifically tested, off-the-cuff conclusion. By his best ballpark estimate the savage primitive has managed to survive perhaps “fifty to one hundred years” following the passing of even EEGAH’s most recent forebear. In some manner of speaking EEGAH still lives alongside his now all-but-extinct extended family in his lonely mountainside cave. Except they now reside there as little more than well cared for mummified remains.

EEGAH’s survival has seemingly gone on unnoticed until one dark night on a deserted road when sweet Roxy (Marilyn Manning) nearly plows into him with her banana yellow sport coupe. While EEGAH grimaces and growls and postures menacingly, it’s apparent that he’s somewhat smitten with his hit-and-run paramour. The girl manages to escape their impromptu meet-up and soon relates the details of her strange run in to her disbelieving boyfriend Tom (Arch Hall, Jr.) and her aforementioned father. Acknowledging the mystery would be best investigated by a responsible adult, Dad Miller is apparently unable to find one. He chooses to go off on his own, hiring a helicopter to take him into the deep ravines within Shadow Mountain. Dressed resplendently in white safari shirt, shorts, and pit helmet, Miller disembarks the copter for an ill-prepared solo expedition. He carries little more than a small tartan satchel and a Brownie camera to support him on his overnight camping trip.

When he fails to appear at the pre-arranged pick-up site the following day, heartthrob Tom and Roxy rush to the designated spot in the hot desert in Tom’s cool dune buggy (“The tires are filled with water,” he tells his girlfriend, the extra weight giving them better “traction in the sand”). As an aside, actor Hall Jr. recalled the dune buggy featured in the film was actually the most authentic and menacing monster of the production. Though it had once been a 1939 Plymouth Sedan it was now, in the actor’s own parlance “a deathtrap,” since it had been amateurishly converted into a buggy and welded back together poorly with no semblance of supportive structure. He recalled a few instances where he was literally pinned under a wreckage of metal, the crew scrambling to pull him free from the crushing weight.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

The 1970s spawned a peculiar sub-genre of crime movies: the rape revenge sagas. Ostensibly, the films were designed to celebrate female empowerment and denounce sexual exploitation of women. In reality, that was just window dressing for the true purpose of the productions, namely, to exploit women. True, they did demonstrate scenes of violated young ladies exacting some just desserts on male stalkers and abusers, but there was an overall suspicion that the films' intended audience wasn't liberated females but men who enjoyed cinematic depictions of women being abused. A prime example is "Act of Vengeance", a 1974 American International cheapie that was also released under the cruder but more accurate title of "Rape Squad". The movie opens with Linda (Jo Ann Harris), a self-employed 20 year-old, having the misfortune of being stalked by a slimeball named Jack (Peter Brown), who wears a red jump suit and a hockey mask (thus inspiring later, more memorable screen villains.) He brutally rapes Linda while adding an additional humiliating element to the crime: he forces her to sing "Jingle Bells" during the assault. Linda survives the ordeal but finds the police are inefficient in tracking down the villain, understandably because he was masked. Turns out Jack is a serial rapist who has subjected numerous other young women to the same horrific fate. Linda meets and bonds with the other victims (played by Jennifer Lee, Lisa Moore, Connie Strickland and Patricia Estrin) and they decide to take matters into their own hands by personally tracking down their attacker and also attempting to come to the rescue of other women who are in danger of being sexually assaulted. To brush up on their self-defense skills, they are taught martial arts by a pro, Tiny (Lada Edmund, Jr.) and-presto!- the women are turned into female versions of Kato on the spot. The film then follows the women as they thwart the bad guys by subjecting them to humiliating beatings. But their primary mission is to track down their mutual rapist and dish out their own brand of justice.

Director Bob Kelljan was already an old hand at helming exploitation films including the Count Yorga horror flicks and "Scream Blacula Scream". If his desire was to depict the terror of sexual assault, he certainly succeeded. The rape scenes are hard to watch and chilling in their realism, made all the more disturbing by the perversions of Jack. (In addition to making his victims sing "Jingle Bells", he requires them to praise his sexual performance and speaks to them in a calm, friendly voice even as he subjects them to despicable acts.) However, the main attributes of the movies pertain to its goofy aspects. Every one of the victims is a knock-out and, despite knowing that Jack is still stalking them, they persist in parading around braless in the skimpiest outfits imaginable. If that isn't enough to keep male audience members awake, they find time to relax by sharing a hot tub (totally nude, of course!)The finale finds our heroines engaging in cliched behavior from other "women-in-jeopardy" films by being lured to meet Jack in the dead of night in a creepy, abandoned zoo. Now, what could possibly go wrong with that strategy? Naturally, they end up separating and- oh, yes, one of them suffers a broken heel that impairs her ability to run. The only predictable element missing is the presence of Vincent Price.

The performances by the female leads range from passable to laughable. All of the male cast members play characters who are killers, rapists or just plain jerks. (The esteemed comedic actor Stanley Adams inexplicably turns up in a brief, embarrassing turn as a pervert.) In the 1970s, the crime of rape was depicted in major films such as "Death Wish" and "A Clockwork Orange". Those scenes, too, are difficult to endure but at least the films were making a serious comment on the degradation of societal norms. "Act of Vengeance" is disguised as a message movie but exists only to titillate, although it does provide plenty of laughs as well (some of them actually intentional). 

Once again Scorpion has given a "B" movie a first-class presentation with an excellent transfer. Extras include a new on-camera interview with actress Jennifer Lee Pryor, who played a member of the Rape Squad. She's quite loquacious and discusses her memories of the film, providing some interesting anecdotes and claims, quite correctly, that the female heroines preceded Charlie's Angels, who were seen as ground-breaking female heroes. The original trailer is also included as well as a gallery of trailers for other Scorpion titles.

(At this time, the Blu-ray does not appear to be available on Amazon. It can be ordered here.)

Universal has released a highly impressive 4K/ Blu-ray/ Digital gift set for "Scarface" starring Al Pacino, packed with cool bonus extras including the Blu-ray debut of the original version starring Paul Muni. Here is the official press announcement:

Scarface “The World is Yours” Limited Edition Gift Set

The ultimate Scarface experience includes:

1983 version of Scarface on 4K UHD, remastered Blu-ray and Digital

1932 version of Scarface on Blu-ray for the first time ever (newly restored with 2 versions of the film – Original uncensored version and Alternate version with different ending)

Collectible “The World is Yours” statue replica

Available for a limited time only! Loaded with bonus features including new 35th Anniversary Reunion with Al Pacino and Michelle Pfeiffer.

Synopsis: In the spring of 1980, the port at Mariel Harbor was opened, and thousands set sail for the United States. They came in search of the American Dream. One of them found it on the sun-washed avenues of Miami… wealth, power and passion beyond his wildest dreams. He was Tony Montana. The world will remember him by another name… Scarface. Starring Al Pacino as Tony Montana along with Michelle Pfeiffer, Steven Bauer, Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio and Robert Loggia, Scarface has become a cultural phenomenon brilliantly directed by Brian De Palma and written by Oliver Stone.

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Brian Raftery, writing in the New York Times, has some positive news for those of you of a certain age who bemoan the fact that your favorite movie-themed amusement park rides have gone the way of the Bay City Rollers. The Times examines how some die-hard fans of the rides have allowed their legacies to live on through web sites and YouTube videos, some of which have been viewed tens of millions of times by grateful members of the public who can recall precious moments spent on these "extravaganzas" which were viewed as increasingly quaint in a world that introduces new technologies ever nano second. Yet, through the videos, rides from Universal Studios and Disney live on from "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" to "Jaws", "King Kong", "Jurassic Park", "Twister" and "Earthquake". Click here to read.

BY HANK REINEKE

Novelist Jay Richard Kennedy was, in his pre-Hollywood youth, known to friends simply as Samuel Richard Solomonick. Idealistic and having come of age in the midst of the U.S. depression, this native of Bronx, New York, would be caught up in the radical politics of the 1930s. In the years prior to the entry of the U.S. in World War II, Kennedy’s personal politics were mostly aligned with those of domestic left-wing groups, including the U.S. Communist Party. This marriage of shared ideals was primarily due to the CP’s seemingly uncompromising anti-fascist beliefs.

But Kennedy’s allegiance to the CP and to their professed socialist ideals came to an abrupt end in 1939 when the Soviet Union’s Joseph Stalin shocked internationalists and fellow travelers by doing the unthinkable - co-signing a non-aggression pact with Hitler’s Germany. That agreement, of course, was not long-lasting, broken when Germany invaded the Soviet Union in June 1941. But Stalin’s pact with the Devil had irreparably shaken the faith of many left-wing activists who had previously – and naively - looked to the Soviet Union for political guidance.

Though Kennedy would abandon many tenets of the far left, he remained an unapologetic political liberal. He was particularly active in the civil rights movements of the 1960s. He worked alongside members of C.O.R.E. (Congress of Racial Equality) and professed solidarity with the Black Panther Party. In truth, this activist wasn’t doing so badly working within the framework of the capitalist system. In April 1966, the recording industry trade magazine Billboard would describe the creative Kennedy as a true renaissance man. He was, they explained, been “at various times a writer for films, radio producer, novelist, talent manager, songwriter, and music publisher.”

At age 54, Kennedy’s youthful radicalism, while never abandoned, was likely tempered when he was tapped by Frank Sinatra to head the record and music publishing wing of Sinatra Enterprises. Kennedy’s 1965 novel, Favor the Runner, had mixed politics and seamy stories of entertainment industry practices. The novel was praised by Sinatra as “the most entertaining and beautifully written novel about show business to be published in this or any season… a swinging, shattering, glorious experience.”

Though the film credits of The Chairman do note that the film was based on a Kennedy’s original novel, it would appear as though the book was only first published two months following the movie’s release in June 1969. It was also published in an odd manner, the mass-market Signet paperback movie-tie-in of August 1969 preceding the later 1970 hardcover by the New American Library/World Publishing. The hardcover version of the book was simultaneously published in the UK under the more intriguing title “The Most Dangerous Man in the World.” (This title was retained for the UK release of the film.)

As Kennedy had a life-long interest in contemporary international-politics, it’s not surprising that the ideas behind The Chairman would germinate from his passion. In 1966 Mao Zedong, the Chairman of the Communist Party of Party, would architect his infamous “Cultural Revolution,” fervently calling on students and workers to commit themselves to continual revolution. It was a disastrous experiment, an anti-intellectual call to arms. During a four year period, universities were shuttered and any semblance of a free press crushed, leaving only Mao’s cult-of-personality and famed “Little Red Book” to light the path to world revolutionary socialism. Professors, intellectuals, workers of mid-to-high station - even loyal Communist Party members - were publically criticized, chastised and jailed by Mao’s infamous Red Guard, derided by the faithful as “Capitalist Roaders.”

Interestingly, the term “Capitalist Roader” was invoked to disparage the new bourgeois class of post-revolutionary China, accusing former comrades of abuses of privilege and power. Such charges were – somewhat oddly - more anti-Soviet than anti-American in their hysteria. In the mid 1950s, Mao had soured on what he perceived as the U.S.S.R.’s softening anti-revolutionary rhetoric and other “anti-socialist” practices as détente. Mao deemed such peace offerings as misguided and “revisionist.” It was a moment in time when the Soviet Union and China were jockeying for position as the preeminent architects of the international socialist movement.

The opening credit sequence of J. Lee Thompson’s The Chairman perfectly captures the revolutionary zeal of Mao’s Red Guards. Playing beneath composer Jerry Goldsmith’s stirring score is a montage of folk art and propaganda poster images of China’s peasant class brandishing their “Little Red Books,” holding them triumphantly aloft in their left-hands or dutifully studying Mao’s enlightening text.

The film had been in the works for some time. In February 1967, the syndicated gossip columnist Earl Wilson teased: “Jay Richard Kennedy, Frank Sinatra’s story sleuth, is winding up the minutes of The Chairman, about Commie China, which Frank, Yul Brynner, and Spencer Tracy’ll have fun with in Hong Kong next fall.” None of this would actually happen, of course, though Frank Sinatra was strongly rumored to have been considered for the role of the Nobel Prize-winning scientist John Hathaway early on. The part eventually went to Gregory Peck. For his troubles, Peck would sign onto a contract that reportedly paid him $500,000 dollars and 10% of any profits. Peck had been working steadily, though his more recent films had not been overly successful at the box office. In 1969, the actor would appear in no fewer than four feature-length films of varying success. Though The Chairman, Peck’s first film with 20^th Century Fox in more than a decade, eventually brought in 2.5 million dollars, it was not a huge box-office success. The film would only rank as the forty-first highest-grossing film of 1969.

On July 17, 1968, Hollywood gossip columnist Joyce Haber reported that producer Arthur Jacobs was in London test-screening some of the “10,000 feet of film” the filmmaker had managed to photograph discreetly “behind the bamboo curtain for use in The Chairman.” Afterwards, the production crew was to move to Hong Kong for principal photography. Jacob’s first choice to helm the feature was the British director Peter Yates. Yates was a natural choice for this espionage film, having previously worked on such ITV television series as The Saint with Roger Moore and Danger Man with Patrick McGoohan. Yates had recently – and easily - made the transition to feature films, beginning with Robbery (1967) but scoring big-time with Bullitt (1968) featuring Steve McQueen.

Jacob’s talks with Yates eventually stalled, perhaps due to the success of the latter film which might have made the director too hot – or too expensive - a property to sign on to The Chairman. Jacobs then offered the directorial job to another Brit, the equally talented J. Lee Thompson. Thompson was a natural choice. He had already worked with Gregory Peck on The Guns of Navarone (1961, for which he would receive a “Best Director” nomination by the Academy), Cape Fear (1962), and the all-star cast assembled in search of Mackenna’s Gold (1969).

In The Chairman, Gregory Peck portrays John Hathaway, an American currently residing in England and lecturing at a London university. He is contacted by Shelby, an American military attaché, who along with a Russian diplomat, and a British RAF officer, press him into accepting an industrial espionage assignment, code name Minotaur. It seems the Red Chinese have developed a ground-breaking agricultural enzyme that allows for crops to grow in usually unfriendly environments. With such ground breaking technology, the allies are afraid the world’s power balance will accordingly tilt. They are afraid that the poorest nations of the third world would sidle to the side of their Peking benefactors.

The Chinese have already expressed interest in having Hathaway lend his scientific expertise to their breakthrough. Though they possess the secret formula, they have thus far been unable to produce this enzyme in sufficient quantities. As few Americans are welcomed to Peking, the calculating Shelby wants Hathaway to accept the invitation of the Reds. He’s not to help out as they wish, of course, but will only be sent east long enough to steal their secret. The scientist refuses until the U.S. President himself calls, urging Hathaway to accept as the mission has been deemed as being of “urgent and terrific importance.”

Hathaway relents and agrees to have a “Q-23 transmitter” surgically inserted as a mastoid sinus canal implant. While Hathaway is told the implant has a satellite monitored tracking radius of one hundred and ten miles and can even monitor changes in his physiology, he is not informed the device also houses a “coil of explosive wire” which the military can remotely detonate should the mission go wrong. Arriving in China in the midst of the Cultural Revolution - already warily surveilled by his cautious and suspicious Chinese hosts - things, quite understandably, go wrong rather quickly.

While a very entertaining and old fashioned Cold War thriller, The Chairman does suffers from a bit of an identity crisis. It’s first positioned as a serious film involving a chess game of competing ideologies and geo-political espionage. But it soon loses such sober prestige when it occasionally dresses as a pastiche of a more outlandish James Bond adventure. In many respects the film is less interesting as the controversies that would surround its production. Principal photography on The Chairman was scheduled from August 26^th through December 3^rd, 1968. Most of the film’s interior scenes were shot without incident on the soundstages of Pinewood Studios, with the windy and rugged cliff sides of Scotland doubling as those of western Mongolia.

The real troubles began when, following a series of location shoots in Taiwan, the cast and crew were due to arrive in Hong Kong on Saturday, November 30, 1968. The company’s Hong Kong schedule was unceremoniously scrapped when, on Wednesday the 27^th, the New York Times reported the “British colonial government, reacting to Communist protests, announced today that it had forbidden an American film unit to shoot several sequences here of the movie The Chairman.” The leftist Wen Wei Pao and other Communist newspapers were at the forefront of cancellation of the film unit’s business in Hong Kong. The newssheets all published editorials decrying the project as a “conspiracy of the British and American imperialists,” an “insult to Chairman Mao,” and a “serious provocation against the 700 million Chinese people.”

Interestingly, there was not a lot of support for the production team in Hong Kong’s non-Communist mainstream press either. Beginning In the spring of 1967, Hong Kong had been wracked with nearly eight months of serious violence – bombings, assassinations, and street riots – following a series of hit-and-run confrontations between police and Communist agitators in the wake of a labor dispute. The resulting chaos and property damage had wearied many of the 8.5 million people living in Hong Kong. They were less interested in engaging in a free-speech battle, opting instead for an uneasy peace. To complicate matters further, a British-based journalist for Reuters was concurrently being held under house arrest in Peking, the capitol of mainland China. The reporter’s detention was seen by most observers as Peking’s retaliatory tactic for what they accused was Hong Kong’s “unjustified persecution of Communist reporters.”

BY HANK REINEKE

The 1972 Giallo Who Saw Her Die? (Chi l'ha vista morire?) was Aldo Lado’s second film as director, his first being Short Night of Glass Dolls (1971). That film was a somewhat less-than-traditional Giallo, photographed inexpensively behind the Iron Curtain in the cities of Zagreb and Prague. Short Night of Glass Dolls was a complicated film that told its story in backward fashion, much in the style of the celebrated playwright Harold Pinter. It was also an unusual Giallo in the sense that its overtly exploitative sex scenes were unevenly mixed with the genre’s level of on-screen violence than European movie-thriller fans had come to expect. Lado had entered into the film business only some five years earlier, serving as the assistant director on a handful of Sergio Leone-inspired Spaghetti western knock-offs and a couple of action films, before getting the opportunity to work with the famed director Bernardo Bertolucci on the auteur’s Oscar-nominated production of The Conformist (1970).

In the featurette “I Saw Her Die,” Lado offers a compartmentalized history of popular Italian cinema. The eighty-four year old asserts that the first wave propagated three identifiable trends: first the Maciste era (or sword-and-sandal “Peplums” as they are referred Stateside). These films were followed by the era of the Spaghetti western, with the Giallo serving as this first wave’s bookend. Both Lado and principal screenwriter Francesco Barilli on Who Saw Her Die? were children of cinema’s first generation, having been exposed to the same diet of black and white motion pictures and having read many of the same novels. There was little differentiation between the classics and the pulp paperback. Lado was in love of mysteries but preferred the hard-edged novels of Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer to the drawing room nicety whodunits of Agatha Christie. Barilli was a fan of the pulp mysteries and adventure tales by the likes of Edgar Wallace. Of their filmmaking contemporaries, both men expressed admiration for Roman Polanski’s stylized work and this is reflected on the film they would collaborate on.

In Who Saw Her Die? George Lazenby is cast as Franco Serpieri, an artist who keeps a small sculpting studio based in Venice. He has been experiencing a welcome measure of recognition due to a recent and critically acclaimed exhibition of his work in Beirut. His success is partly the result of the machinations of his agent, the powerful and commanding Serafin (Adolfo Celi, Largo of Thunderball fame). Serpieri’s young, red-headed and freckle-faced daughter Roberta (Nicolette Elmi) is visiting with her father from her home in London.

We learn the sculptor is apparently estranged from his daughter’s mother Elizabeth (the beautiful Swedish actress Anita Strindberg). In a decidedly grim scenario that bristles even today, the doomed child’s visit is short lived. The girl’s sudden disappearance and subsequent murder throws Serpieri into depression and a relentless desire to bring the guilty party to justice. Despite the film’s morbid subject matter, the storyline soon evolves into a conventional whodunit of sorts. There are any numbers of shady characters introduced within the film’s running time: several seemingly plausible suspects and red-herrings bring attention to themselves with expressionless eyes or incautious suspicious mannerisms. Most moments are initially perceived as innocent, but now appear unseemly in light of the tragedy.

Though not for every taste, this is a well-constructed film and it’s likely George Lazenby’s best film after On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969). Though an Italian production, the English-speaking Lazenby was brought on at the suggestion of producer Enzo Doria, primarily due to the actor’s recent attachment with the James Bond franchise. He was, in Lado’s unapologetic estimate, “A good name to attract easy money.” In an eleven-minute featurette featured on Anchor Bay’s DVD issue of Who Saw Her Die? (2002) (not ported over to this new Arrow edition), Lado would recall, “George Lazenby had already played the role of James Bond and acquired a certain international fame. This was useful for the producers… He had deep issues with (Cubby) Broccoli and the entire James Bond organization… In the end, he didn’t make a lira. He was going to the casinos, staying in big hotels, and nothing was free. At the end he was shown the bills and everything had been deducted from his pay… he had made nothing. His only dream was to return to his homeland of Australia, buy a boat and sail off alone. He was happy that [his work on Who Saw Her Die?] would earn him the money to buy the boat.”

Lado’s memory is partly in error here, as Lazenby, an admitted novice boatman, had already sailed with his wife Chrissie into Italy, via the island of Malta. The adventuresome couple eventually arrived, according to Lazenby’s recollection, in “Fiumicino, at the mouth of the Tiber outside Rome.” The pair had arrived on a catamaran purchased on the dwindling reserve of earnings from the Bond film. As late as October 1973, Lazenby told one journalist that the paycheck cashed from the “little art film” shot in Italy - along with the remnants of his Bond money - allowed him and his wife to survive on “five pounds a week.” He confessed he had no yet had the opportunity to see the final cut of Who Saw Her Die? but was nonetheless thankful for the gig as “it helped keep us for fifteen months on the catamaran, and that kind of life brings sanity.”

If the Bond producers had weathered the well-documented “deep issues” with the actor, Lado in contrast could only recall one uncomfortable exchange with Lazenby. Lado was proud of the fact he had never experienced problems dealing with any of the actors he had worked with previously… but admitted that dealing with Lazenby was somewhat of an initial challenge. “He was used to all that James Bond entourage, that luxury environment,” the director recalled, and this was a low-budget production that allowed for few indulgences. Lazenby may have been James Bond, but he was not yet an established international movie star of Sean Connery’s stature, and even Connery’s post-Bond films had not been box office smashes. Indeed, other than OHMSS, George Lazenby had only one other film on his résumé, and that was an unsuccessful one at that.

Lazenby’s first post-Bond film Universal Soldier (Cy Endfield, 1971) had been partly financed by Lazenby and then sold, for percentages, to Britain’s Hemdale Film Corporation. The entertainment company puzzled how to market this shot-on-a-shoe-string, mercenary-turned-hippie- pacifist production. Though Universal Soldier was eventually released to theatres in the UK in February 1971, it was a commercial failure. Hedging its bets, Hemdale chose to absorb their losses by releasing the film as an under-bill to a more commercial property, the political suspense-thriller Embassy, based on the best-selling novel by Stephen Coulter. Directed by the Gordon Hessler, Embassy would feature an all-star cast that would include Richard Roundtree, Max von Sydow, Ray Milland, Broderick Crawford, and Chuck Connors.

The film had some defenders. John Russell Taylor, the film critic of the London Times, wrote that while Universal Soldier was undeniably “muddled” and “not exactly a missed masterpiece,” the film was stronger than the more formulaic Embassy as it “tries to say something about war, arms sales, and the limits of cynicism.” Taylor’s view of the film was far more generous than David McGillivray of the UK’s Monthly Film Bulletin. That critic unkindly wrote off Universal Soldier as little more than a “shallow piece of social drama,” and mercilessly dissected the screenplay’s “apparently improvised dialogue.” Especially galling to the MFB critic was the plot device that allowed for Lazenby’s immoral, cynical mercenary soldier to undergo a “sudden and dramatic ideological conversion […] largely attributed to the influence of one insipid yoga fanatic and a couple of outbursts from Germaine Greer on the topic of arms to South Africa.”

It’s likely neither Lado nor Doria had even screened Universal Soldier, the film having disappeared from sight almost upon release. On the set of Who Saw Her Die?, the director had more a more logistical issue to contend with. Lado, a native Italian whose second language was French, spoke little English. So, to communicate with Lazenby, the filmmaker – who maintained that a director’s responsibility was to “stage” a film as one might a theatrical performance – would pantomime what he desired the former James Bond to convey as the cameras rolled. Following production, Lazenby bragged, “For the Italian film I had needed to learn the language,” but if this was the case the lessons didn’t go so well. The actor dialogue’s is dubbed throughout the film in both the Italian and English-language versions of the film.

The dubbing was becoming something as a trend. Though he had been famously dubbed as “Sir Hilary Bray” for parts of OHMSS, he was also - mostly - dubbed in the course of the three Kung Fu films he would appear in for Raymond Chow’s Golden Harvest Productions following his move to Hong Kong in 1973. In any event, Lazenby appears in Who Saw Her Die? much as he did as the mercenary Ryker in Universal Soldier, almost unrecognizable as the previously dapper James Bond. For starters, the actor’s hair is shoulder-length long, and he now sports a thick brown moustache. When Lazenby removes his shirt during one early scene he appears well beyond thin – he’s alarmingly lanky and skinny. This was likely the result of his and his wife Chrissie’s conversion to vegetarianism in 1971.

The very addictive web site www.in70mm.com  presents a fascinating and exhaustive list of major films that were shot in standard 35mm format but presented (at least sporadically) in blow-up 70mm format. The list might surprise you. In addition to big budget epics, you'll find in the year-by-year listings such seemingly unlikely blow-ups as "Bye Bye Birdie", "The Cardinal", "The Chase", "Hellfighters" and "Shalako". Some of these 70mm presentations were only shown in limited areas. For example, a 70mm print of the 1967 James Bond film "You Only Live Twice" was apparently restricted to Japan. Click here to access the listings.

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE EXISTENTIAL WEST

By Raymond Benson

I never had a chance to see these two legendary westerns that were made back-to-back in the mid-1960s, presented by Roger Corman, directed and co-produced by Monte Hellman, and starring a young Jack Nicholson (among others), for they were elusive. I’d heard they were quirky, moody, and very different takes on the western genre, so I was excited to hear that The Criterion Collection was releasing both pictures as a double-bill on one Blu-ray disc. Now you, too, can view these strange little movies in all of their high definition glory.

Hellman was one of the few directors that producer Corman would let helm pictures for his studio, which at that time was famous for low-budget horror films, youth-in-rebellion pictures, and, later, rock ‘n’ roll counterculture flicks. Jack Nicholson was also involved with Corman since the late fifties, doing much of his pre-Easy Rider work for the producer as an actor and sometimes writer. In this case, Nicholson served as co-producer (with Hellman) on both pictures and wrote the script for Ride in the Whirlwind. At first, Hellman presented Corman with the script for The Shooting, written by Carole Eastman (using the pseudonym “Adrien Joyce” and who would later write the screenplay for Five Easy Pieces). Corman suggested that Hellman shoot two westerns at the same time to get more bang for the buck, so to speak. Therefore, Nicholson came up with Whirlwind and both movies were shot together in the Utah desert with the same crew and most of the same cast. The two motion pictures were seen at several film festivals in 1966 and the distribution rights were bought by the Walter Reade Organization, which promptly sold them to television. They were broadcast sometime in 1968 and were then lost in limbo.

Both The Shooting and Ride in the Whirlwind could be called “existential westerns” because they are indeed philosophical, atmospheric, and, well, arty. Very arty. Corman had insisted that Hellman and Nicholson add more action to both scripts—which they did—but you still can’t say these are in any way typical westerns. At a time when Sergio Leone was tearing up the genre Italian-style, it’s no wonder that the two pictures slipped into obscurity.

On the one hand, both films are interesting simply because it’s fun to see the young actors that appear in them—Nicholson, Warren Oates, Millie Perkins (the original Anne Frank from the 1959 The Diary of Anne Frank, now a grown up and a babe), Harry Dean Stanton (billed as “Dean Stanton”), and a not-so-young Cameron Mitchell. No one in the films, except maybe Mitchell, looks particularly comfortable on a horse; it’s rather obvious that these actors are “playing at” being in a western. Other positive aspects include the cinematography—by Gregory Sandor, for both pictures—and the strange musical scores—by Richard Markowitz (The Shooting) and Robert Jackson Drasnin (Ride in the Whirlwind).

On the other hand, as narrative westerns, they don’t measure up. The acting is, for the most part, pretty bad. Nicholson is the heavy in The Shooting, and he spends most of the time sneering. The higher-pitched voice of the young Nicholson doesn’t really work for the character; he is much better in Whirlwind as one of the good guys. Oates is suitably ornery but not much else. Perkins seems like a fish out of water in both films. Will Hutchins, who plays Oates’ simple-minded sidekick, straddles a fine line between being quite effective and incredibly annoying. Mitchell is forgettable. Stanton is—well, Harry Dean Stanton.

We love the cheesy but fun 1966 Man From U.N.C.L.E. feature film One Spy Too Many, cobbled together from the two-part episodes of The Alexander the Greater Affair with Rip Torn as a villain of Bondian standards. The film featured some extra sexy scenes shot exclusively for the feature film. These feature Yvonne Craig and Donna Michele and feature prominently in the original trailer. 

Amberley Books

2019

96 pages

Full Colour

£14.99

Review by Adrian Smith

One of the greatest and most commercially successful fantasy series of the 1960s, The Avengers actually started out in 1961 as a gritty crime drama focused on Doctor Keel, played by Ian Hendry, one of British television’s biggest stars at that time. In the first episode his wife is killed by drug dealers, and a mysterious undercover agent named John Steed, played of course by Patrick Macnee, helps him to avenge her death. The two end up working together on a number of other crime cases, thus forming the basis for a series that would ultimately outgrow its noir origins and become an outrageous Technicolor riot of science fiction, martial arts, sexy fashion and comedy. Once Doctor Keel was out of the picture, the playful ‘will they? – won’t they?’ (or even ‘have they? – haven’t they?’) nature of John Steed’s relationship with his female partners – Cathy Gale (Honor Blackman), Emma Peel (Diana Rigg) and Tara King (Linda Thorson) –provided a frisson of excitement and the occasional wink towards the adults in the audience of what was essentially a family show. After coming to an end in 1969, John Steed was soon back in 1976 with The New Avengers, as a mentor to his new younger companions Purdey (Joanna Lumley) and Mike Gambit (Gareth Hunt).

Of course, where there is success merchandising is never far behind, and The Avengers and The New Avengers was no exception. This new volume by John Buss, following closely on the heels of his volume on The Man from U.N.C.L.E., features global examples of original books, toys, magazines, records, clothing and promotional items, many from the author’s own personal archive. One might expect novelisations and collectible annuals to have been standard in the 1960s, but Honor Blackman’s Book of Self-Defence, in which she demonstrates a number of techniques, is perhaps a little more surprising. As was common at the time, most of the cast at some point released singles or albums, with the only exception being Diana Rigg, who was far too serious for that kind of thing. Macnee and Blackman released that notorious novelty record ‘Kinky Boots’ (recorded after a long session in the pub according to Honor Blackman), but Linda Thorson had some success as well with her single ‘Here I am’, which was released all over Europe. Blackman also released an entire solo album in 1964, ‘Everything I’ve Got’, capitalising on her popularity from both The Avengers and Goldfinger.

With well over 100 items discussed in this full-colour volume, John Buss is clearly Britain’s leading 1960s TV memorabilia collector and historian. This is an essential purchase for anyone who remembers the thrill of owning an annual, plastic gun, board game or jigsaw from your favourite show.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON UK

CLIVE BARKER'S "NIGHTBREED"- OUT OF THE SHADOWS, AT LAST.

WHEN SCORSESE MET TARANTINO

REVIEW: "BARQUERO" (1970) STARRING LEE VAN CLEEF AND WARREN OATES; KINO LORBER BLU-RAY EDITION

NOW SHIPPING WORLDWIDE: CINEMA RETRO PRESENTS "THE WILD BUNCH" MOVIE CLASSICS SPECIAL EDITION

REVIEW: "SEVEN DAYS TO NOON" (1950) STARRING BARRY JONES; KINO LORBER BLU-RAY RELEASE

REVIEW: MARTIN SCORESE'S "KUNDUN" (1997); KINO LORBER BLU-RAY SPECIAL EDITION

REVIEW: "THE BIG COUNTRY" (1958) STARRING GREGORY PECK, JEAN SIMMONS AND CHARLTON HESTON; KINO LORBER BLU-RAY RELEASE

"MAKING WAVES: THE ART OF CINEMATIC SOUND": JOHN STEVENSON INTERVIEWS DIRECTOR MIDGE COSTIN