By Fred Blosser

Morbius, “The Living Vampire,” was introduced in Marvel Comics’ “The Amazing Spider-Man” No. 101, October 1971, as Spider-Man’s latest adversary. In any poll of Spider-Man villains, he’s likely to place below Doctor Octopus and the Green Goblin, but well above the Chameleon, the Molten Man, and the Ringmaster. Under a succession of writers and artists, the character later switched out from bad guy to anti-hero, and anchored several decades’ worth of comics on his own. Although never a sales-leader like Spider-Man, he was popular enough that studios began to talk about his movie potential as far back as 1998. The concept went through several caretakers, finally emerging as “Morbius,” a 2022 production from Columbia Pictures, Marvel Entertainment, and Sony Pictures. The film is now available on Blu-ray, 4K Ultra High Definition, and DVD from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment.

The story centers on Dr. Michael Morbius (Jared Leto), a medical researcher and Nobel Prize recipient for his revolutionary invention of “artificial blood.” His foster father and mentor, Dr. Emil Nicholas (Jared Harris), is pleased by Morbius’ success, but the scientist himself is less than gratified. The discovery fell short of what he actually wanted to devise, a cure for his lifelong, progressively debilitating blood disease. Bankrolled by his wealthy friend Milo (Matt Smith) who suffers from the same affliction, he moves his laboratory offshore to begin a trial that “isn’t exactly legal,” since it involves creating a serum from the blood of smuggled vampire bats. As Bela Lugosi might have warned, beware of anything having to do with vampire bat blood.

As in the 1971 comic-book origin story, the serum reverses Morbius’ illness but turns him into a super-strong, super-fast vampire with a demonic mug, scary fangs, the ability to fly, and an uncontrollable thirst for human blood. His supply of artificial blood provides temporary relief, enabling him to change back to revitalized human form, but the reprieve lasts only a few hours, and he’s still driven by compulsion for the real deal. Learning that Mobius found a cure for their disease, Milo steals the serum. Even after turning into a vampire too, he doesn’t care. Revitalized into a preening dandy (much like Matt Smith’s previous role as Jack the pimp in 2021’s “Last Night in Soho”), he begins to trawl singles bars for victims. When New York City experiences a wave of vampire murders, two police detectives, Stroud (Tyrese Gibson) and Rodriguez (Al Madrigal), close in on Morbius as their prime suspect, unaware he isn’t the only monster in town.

Originally planned for a 2020 release but delayed by the Covid lockdown,“Morbius” met with disappointing box-office—$39 million in tickets on its April 1, 2022, opening weekend compared with $261 million for the December 17, 2021, opening of “Spider-Man: No Way Home.” The receipts dropped even more precipitously over the second weekend, to $10.2 million, after negative reviews and tepid word-of-mouth. The movie’s CGI effects are well executed and, in fact, occasionally even better than some in the Spider-Man pictures, but fans of super-hero action were probably disappointed. Morbius doesn’t begin to fly and punch through steel until well into the 104-minute running time, following a long, glum backstory about Morbius’ and Milo’s miserable childhood as the sickly victims of bullies.

Fans of today’s intense horror films will feel short-changed too, since the Marvel-friendly, PG-13 rating precludes any extreme vampire mayhem. The scary scenes follow a predictable pattern, as do all the subsidiary elements that might have been lifted from any “Fast and Furious” or “G.I. Joe” picture. Mercenaries fire off thousands of rounds in a noisy firefight, the cops chasing the hero are dutiful but clueless, and despite an M.D. degree, Morbius’ girlfriend (Adria Arjona) stands out mostly as eye candy in a skimpy T-shirt at a lab console. In the second half, when the liberated vampire Milo tells the anguished vampire Morbius to give in to his urges and “stop denying who you are,” the allegory is as subtle as one of Morbius’ vampire bites—and for those who go to escapist fantasy movies for a short respite from today’s barrage of divisive social issues on CNN and Twitter, just as unnecessary.

The Sony Pictures Home Entertainment Blu-ray offers an excellent transfer of the movie at the correct 2.39:1 aspect. The disc is loaded with special features for movie enthusiasts, including outtakes and bloopers, and short production documentaries. Such add-ons often seem excessive for B-level material like “Morbius,” but they’re esteemed by fans, and who’s to say if today’s B-movie won’t be tomorrow’s rediscovered masterpiece? A feature called “Nocturnal Easter Eggs” points out linkages with the larger Marvel Cinematic Universe that all but the most trivia-savvy viewers would miss otherwise. The set also contains the film in DVD and digital download formats.

If Morbius returns as seems likely from two inter-credit scenes at the end, you can bet on two things. He’ll join up with other characters from the MCU and he’ll develop a sense of humor, the trajectory established by all the other Marvel films.

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Fred Blosser is the author of "Sons of Ringo: The Great Spaghetti Western Heroes". Click here to order from Amazon)

Joe Dante's "Trailers from Hell" enlists filmmaker Adam Rifkin to pay tribute to the 1966 Universal family comedy favorite "The Ghost and Mr. Chicken" starring Don Knotts in his first starring role in a feature film after leaving his iconic role as Deputy Barney Fife in "The Andy Griffith Show". Knotts enlisted plenty of talent from that show to bring "Chicken" to the screen. Andy Griffith helped write so much of the screenplay that he was entitled to a screenwriter credit, but he selflessly refused to do so. The film stands the test of time with Knotts in top form as the nervous wreck reporter who has to spend a night in a supposedly haunted house, a scenario inspired by a particularly memorable episode of "The Andy Griffith Show". 

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Watch the 1973 crime drama "The Don is Dead", complete and without commercials, courtesy of Universal.

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BY JOHN M. WHALEN

The setting is early 20^th Century India-- the location, an ancient burial site. Workmen dig up a grave and discover what appears to be a corpse of a man, sitting huddled over in the dirt with his head tucked down between his knees, his arms wrapped around his shins. The workmen lift the body out of the grave carefully, slowly, delicately and place it in a palanquin and carry it to the entrance of a cave. They carry the body down a long flight of steps, past an endless row of statues of ancient Indian gods. They arrive in the bowels of a temple and climb up to the top of a huge altar hundreds of feet high and begin the process of unlocking his limbs from their knotted positions, pull nose plugs from his nostrils, and ear plugs from his ears. They open his mouth and slowly pull his tongue loose. They pour water into his mouth and it begins to foam. Slowly the corpse’s eyes open. Thus does Yogi Ramagani (Bernhard Goetzke) return from the Land of the Dead.

He looks up and sees Prince Ayan III, Maharaja of Bengal (Conrad Veidt), standing over him and says: “You have brought me back from the dead. I am bound to obey you. What is your command?” The maharaja replies: “You are omniscient, Rami. You already know what you must do.” With that the Yogi proceeds to walk slowly, ever so slowly, along the edge of the high altar on which they stand and takes a step into empty space. Instead of falling, the Yogi simply fades from view. And thus, with this 12-minute sequence, in which everything moves as if in a slow-motion dream, begins “The Indian Tomb,” one of the strangest, most engrossing, if not mesmerizing, films, you will have ever seen.

Based on a novel by German novelist Thea von Harbou, who co-wrote the screenplay with the legendary Fritz Lang, “The Indian Tomb,” was directed by Joe May, who directed “Homecoming” (1928), and “Asphalt” (1930) during the heyday of German cinema but who is little known today. May, like Lang and Harbou, emigrated to America to escape the Nazis, but, unlike Lang, failed to strike pay dirt in American films—some sources say, because of his dictatorial style of direction and his refusal to speak English. Perhaps his best known American film was “The Invisible Man Returns.” But in 1921, May was big in Germany and was able to raise a budget of 20 million Deutschemarks for “The Indian Tomb,” the most money ever spent on a movie in Germany up until that time. And every mark is right up there on the screen. The sets May built for the film are gigantic. The maharaja’s palace is a huge structure, with towers reaching high into the sky. The set includes an amphitheater for the prince’s pet tigers to play in. There’s a cave below the palace housing a torture chamber, where the maharaja’s enemies lie chained up in painful-looking positions. There’s another cave for lepers, and a high mountain location with an Indiana Jones-style rope bridge that gets some spectacular use by the picture’s end. Over the one hundred years that have passed, the sets have crumbled into ruins, but pieces of it can still be found in the German countryside.

The plot of “The Indian Tomb” is as outsized, bizarre and spectacular as the setting. The film was originally presented as two separate features: “The Mission of the Yogi” and “The Tiger of Eschnapur.” The mission the maharaja sends Yogi Rami on takes him to Great Britain, where he suddenly appears out of thin air in the study of Herbert Rowland (Olaf Fonss), an architect who dreams of one day designing something as grand as the Taj Mahal. By sheer coincidence, the yogi has come to offer Rowland a huge sum of money to come to India and build a tomb that will honor the beauty of the maharaja’s lady love, Princess Savitri (Elena Morena). Rowland jumps at the chance even though it means his planned wedding to Irene Amundsen (Mia May) will have to be postponed. The only condition the yogi puts on his offer is that he must leave for India within the hour and can tell no one where he’s going. Rowland agrees, but secretly leaves Irene a note explaining everything. The yogi’s not fooled, however. While he and Rowland take off on a steamship for the Orient, Ramigani’s ghost-like hand appears in Rowland’s study and grabs the note. But Irene, fearing for her fiancee’s safety, is not a woman to be trifled with. She still manages to find out where he’s gone and takes the next steamship east.

Bernhard Goetske, an actor totally unknown today, gives an amazing performance as Yogi Ramigani. His stone-faced expression and blazing eyes, somehow lit up by cinematographer Werner Brandes to look like they’re on fire, make you believe he could in fact walk through walls and impose his will on others hundreds of miles away. Mia May, who was Joe May’s real life wife, is also convincing as the determined bride-to-be who overcomes numerous obstacles to find her man.

Conrad Veidt (perhaps best known as Col. Strasser in “Casablanca”) gives a powerful performance as Prince Ayan, a man with a magnetic presence who is both passionate and obsessed by the woman he loved. The pieces of the plot finally come together when Rowland discovers that Princess Savitri isn’t dead and that the prince wants him to build the mausoleum not to entomb a dead princess, but to bury her alive for betraying their love. She had an affair with Mac Alan (Paul Richter) an English military man, whose hobby is hunting tigers.

It’s a complex tale that takes four hours to come to a resolution. One of the reasons for the film’s length is the glacial pace with which May directed it. Everything is done with meticulous attention to detail, with the actors moving at half speed. The camera is stationary most of the time. The soundtrack, recorded in 2019 by Irena and Vojtek Have,l consists of exotic droning instruments, gongs and percussion. Some reviewers dislike the slow pace of the film and complain about the monotony of the soundtrack. But I found it a refreshing contrast to the lightning-fast speed of most films today with the emphasis on action coming at you at the rate of 100 different shots a minute. If you accept the film for what it is, and have your favorite refreshment handy, you can almost have a nice out of body experience with “The Indian Tomb.”

Kino Lorber has done a remarkable job of putting the 2K transfer of both parts of “The Indian Tomb” on a single disc. The picture is sharp and clear. The soundtrack is in Dolby stereo. Also included on the disc is “Turbans Over Waltersdorf,” (2022—45 minutes) a visual essay written by David Cairns and Fiona Watson that reveals much about the historical significance of the film. “The Indian Tomb” is highly recommended.

(Note: If searching for the film on IMDB, look under "Mysteries of India", an alternative title for the movie.)

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You can see this gem of a film from 1969, courtesy of Universal, complete and without ads. The film is a sweet-natured comedy based on William Faulkner's novel and features a fine comedic performance by Steve McQueen and an Oscar-nominated turn by Rupert Crosse, with a score by John Williams.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Bob Hope's status as having enjoyed the longest reign as America's most beloved comedy icon remains unchallenged . When he passed away in 2003 at age 100, Hope had mastered seemingly all entertainment mediums. By the 1930s he was already a popular star on stage and in feature films. He could sing, dance and joke often simultaneously. British by birth, Hope and his family emigrated to America when he was five years old and he would ultimately become one of the USA's most patriotic public figures. His long-term contract with NBC stretched from radio days to being the face of the network's television broadcasts. It was TV that made made Hope the ultimate media icon. His NBC TV specials were the stuff of ratings gold, especially those that found him entertaining American troops in far off locations during the Christmas season. Hope continued this tradition, which started in WWII, through the early 1990s. His genius was that he never veered from his core act: quick one-liners that were designed to amuse but never offend. Although a life-long conservative and Republican, Hope knew how to thread the needle when it came to politics. He hobnobbed with presidents of both parties and the jokes he cracked about them gently poked fun at their eccentricities without offending either them or their supporters. Hope's political barbs were made in an era in which such humor would bring people together instead of polarize them. Hope's humor became dated but he never lost his popularity with older fans who continued to tune in to his TV specials and delighted at his frequent appearances on chat shows. Not everyone was a fan, however. Marlon Brando once criticized Hope's hunger for the spotlight by saying he would turn up at the opening of a supermarket if there was a camera there. Still, Hope's ubiquitous presence extended into the realm of movies, though cinema was decidedly a secondary career for him. In the 1940s and 1950s he was a top box-office attraction, with his "Road" movies co-starring Bing Crosby particularly popular. By the 1960s changing social values threatened Hope's brand of squeaky clean comedies but he still had enough juice at the boxoffice to top-line movies throughout the entire decade. 

"Boy, Did I Get a Wrong Number", released in 1966, is the epitome of a Hope comedy. He plays Tom Meade, a California real estate agent who has sunk a considerable amount of money into buying a house in a remote area of the mountains by a beautiful lake. He was certain he could turn a quick profit but it transpires that the house is located in an area that is a bit too remote and his investment has turned into a money-bleeding white elephant. At the same time, the story follows the exploits of Didi (Elke Sommer), an international screen sex siren who is known for including provocative bathing sequences in her racy films. Didi is shooting her latest movie when she has a fierce argument with her director/lover Pepe Pepponi (Cesare Danova) and storms off the set to go into hiding, thus initiating an intense manhunt that dominates the headlines. Through the type of quirk that can only happen in movies, Tom makes a business phone call and accidentally gets connected with Didi, who tells him she is hiding in a nearby hotel but lacks any food or sustenance. Tom realizes he possesses bombshell information and promises to visit her with food. He sneaks out late at night so his wife Martha (Marjorie Lord) doesn't suspect anything...but unbeknownst to him, his nosy and sarcastic live-in housekeeper Lily (Phyllis Diller) catches on. When Tom arrives at Didi's hotel room, she practically seduces him but Tom has something other than sex on his mind. He offers Didi the opportunity to stay at his dormant house at the lake until the manhunt dies down. He's motivated partly by compassion and partly by the opportunity to exploit the property as the house that Didi once hid in. Things naturally go awry when Martha insists on spending a romantic weekend at the house with Tom, away from their two pre-teen but precocious son and daughter. This sets in motion one of those traditional bedroom farce situations. Tom arrives separately in advance of Martha and discovers Didi is practically comatose after taking a sleeping pill. In the ensuing mayhem, he must drag her from room to room and hide her before Martha discovers her presence. This madcap sequence is the highlight of the film and it is deftly directed by old pro George Marshall. However, the film's final act crosses the line into over-the-top outright slapstick with Diller riding wild on a motorcycle and Hope being pursued in a car chase by FBI agents who think he murdered Didi. 

The joy of any Bob Hope movie is that he never played the traditional hero. He specialized in portraying characters who weren't immoral but who were willing to gnaw around the edges of ethical behavior (i.e a coward who pretends he's a hero, a virginal buffoon who pretends he's a great lover, etc.) In this production, Hope continues that tradition and gets off some good one-liners. He's got the perfect foil in Phyllis Diller and their chemistry worked so well they made two more films together in short order, "Eight on the Lam" and "The Private Navy of Sgt. O'Farrell" before Hope retired from the silver screen with his 1972 dud "Cancel My Reservation". "Boy, Did I Get a Wrong Number!" plays out like an extended TV sitcom from the era and was shot on a relatively modest budget. There are a few timid attempts to make the script a bit contemporary by including a some overt references to sex but it's still tame family-friendly viewing. It should be said that Elke Sommer, who was always somewhat underwhelming in terms of dramatic acting skills, had a true knack for playing light comedy and she's delightful in this movie in a physically demanding role that requires her to be tossed around while unconscious as though she is a rag doll. One of the more amusing aspects of the film is unintentional: Marjorie Lord's hairstyle, which is as high as a beehive and equally distracting. One keeps awaiting Hope to make some quips about it but they never come.

Olive Films has released the movie as a Blu-ray with an excellent transfer but no bonus extras. As retro comedies go, this is typical of a Bob Hope comedy from the era. It offers no surprises but somehow today the sheer predictability and innocence of his movies make for pleasing viewing- and this is no exception. 

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

I know I'm not only getting old, but I'm there already. That's apparent in the fact that I remember seeing the 1981 comedy "All Night Long" at an advanced critic's screening in New York. Back in those prehistoric days before the internet, you had to read trade industry publications to get the background story or buzz on forthcoming films. Sure, the general public was always aware that expensive epics were experiencing production problems, but everyday movie fans were generally unaware of the scuttlebutt on mid-range fare. Within industry circles, however, the word-of-mouth was negative about the film despite the fact that it starred Gene Hackman and Barbra Streisand, both then very much at the peak of their acting careers. The film had gone through some almost surrealistic production problems that involved high profile people and had come in massively over the original budget estimate. I recalled thinking the movie was kind of fun but had the staying power of cotton candy in that nothing about resonated even a few days after seeing it. For old time's sake, I decided to revisit it through Kino Lorber's Blu-ray release. My observations will follow, but first some preliminary facts. The movie was optioned by Fox originally but for reasons unknown (premonitions?), it was dropped. It was then shepherded to executives at Universal by Sue Mengers, the "Super Agent" talent representative who was as famous as the names on her legendary clients. Among them was Gene Hackman, who had taken a leave of absence from acting due due to making so many films back-to-back. Tired of playing in action films, Hackman was eager to star in this quirky romantic comedy that had been scripted by W.D. Richter, who had written the brilliant 1978 version of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" as well as the Frank Langella version of "Dracula" and the popular crime drama "Brubaker" with Robert Redford. The film was to be a modestly-budgeted affair costing about $3 million. Up-and-coming actress Lisa Eichorn was cast as the female lead opposite Hackman. The director was Jean-Claude Tramont, a Belgian filmmaker who had reed-thin credits in the industry. This was to be Tramont's first Hollywood film and it was very much championed by Sue Mengers, who "coincidentally" happened to be his wife.   

So far, so good. However, shortly after filming began, for reasons no one could ever interpret, Hackman began acting in a frosty manner opposite Eichorn, who by all accounts, was giving a fine performance. Because of Hackman's aversion to starring opposite her, their love scenes were less-than-convincing. Since Hackman was the big name, Eichorn was summarily fired, though she was paid her salary of $250,000 in full. Then Mengers stepped forward with what seemed like an outlandish idea: have Barbra Streisand assume Eichorn's role. The idea of Streisand taking over for another actress in a film that was already in production seemed surrealistic, but Streisand agreed- in return for a $4 million paycheck, which said to be the highest salary ever paid to an actor. (In return, she didn't object to Hackman getting top billing, which presumably he had been contractually guaranteed.) As the change-over was taking place, other members of the cast and crew were also replaced, including the director photography. The original composer was the esteemed Georges Delerue, but his score was deemed to be unsatisfactory and Richard Hazard and Ira Newborn were brought on board as the composers of record. (Bizarrely, Delerue is listed in the final credits as "conductor"with his name misspelled as "George", a final indignity.) By the time filming resumed, the budget had blown up to $14 million, a staggering sum for a low-key comedy and a figure that approached half the production cost of "Apocalypse Now".

So what's it all about? Hackman plays George Dupler, a middle-aged L.A. executive who is counting on a big promotion. When he is bypassed, he breaks down and throws a chair through the window. Because of his seniority, management won't fire him but instead demotes him and assigns him to a new job they are sure will result in his resignation. George is to manage an all-night pharmacy/convenient store that is staffed by misfits and patronized by wacky eccentrics. These scenes should be the funniest in the film, but director Tramont overplays his hand and presents over-the-top characters that would generally be found in sitcom episodes. None of the labored sight gags work at all and they seem out of place given the fact that Tramont had indicated his goal was to make a European-style sophisticated romantic comedy. The film improves considerably when it cuts to the main plot points, which involve George learning that his 18 year-old son Freddie (Dennis Quaid) is having a secret affair with cougar Cheryl Gibbons (Barbra Streisand), who is a distant relative. She's married to Bob (Kevin Dobson), a brusque fireman who is the fourth cousin of George's wife Helen (Diane Ladd). Still with me? A chance encounter with Cheryl leads George to have an affair with her. When Helen finds out, fireworks ensue and George spontaneously packs a few things and storms out of the house to find a new abode. He sets up a new home in a cavernous loft that adjoins a class for aspiring painters. He and Cheryl resume their affair, while she simultaneously carries on with Freddie. (A "Yuck! Factor" enters the scenario when George asks Cheryl if he is better in bed than his son.) Screenwriter Richter seems to have been inspired by the plight of Benjamin in "The Graduate", in that Cheryl is not only bedding her lover but his parent as well.

The biggest flaw in the script is that none of the principals are remotely sympathetic. Cheryl is an intentional home-breaker, Freddie puts his lust before any other priority and George is willing to break up his marriage spontaneously with no apparent regrets. Not much to admire there. Richter seems to have realized this and introduces a late plot device designed to excuse George's affair, but it comes across as a last minute contrivance that came to Richter in the middle of the night. Despite all of that, "All Night Long" worked better for me this time than when I originally saw it. The film is flaky in concept and execution but Hackman is always in fine form and it's great to see Streisand in a secondary role that she can play in a subdued manner. (There's a funny bit in which the ditzy Cheryl attempts to sing and can't hit a note, an irony for a Streisand character.) The supporting cast is very good, too, with Kevin Dobson terrific as the hot-tempered cuckolded husband who ignites when he discovers his wife is bedding both George and his son and William Daniels, very amusing as the staid family lawyer who isn't as staid as he seems.

When the film was released, it garnered a few enthusiastic reviews including from the usually grumpy Pauline Kael, but the general consensus was negative. Screenwriter William Goldman, a longtime critic of Hollywood studios (he famous said of the town, "Nobody knows anything") held up "All Night Long" as a prime example of a simple project that began bloated by ineptness, nepotism and egos. The film bombed at the boxoffice and Goldman estimated that when marketing costs were factored in, it would have lost $20 million- and that was in 1981 dollars. Streisand was said to be livid over the marketing campaign poster which implied this would be a zany, madcap comedy, when in fact, it is much more subdued. After the film's failure, Streisand dropped Sue Mengers as her agent. As for Jean-Claude Tramont, his career came to a screeching halt, never to recover before his death in 1996. 

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray would seem to call out for a commentary track, but there is none. However, there is an excellent 20-minute recent video interview with W.D. Richter, who candidly describes the experience as an unhappy memory and details some of the factors that led to disaster.  He does speak well of Streisand and said there was no evidence of the diva-like demands she is known for. She didn't even insist on any script revisions. Richter also said that Tramont seemed nervous and uncertain in dealing with Streisand and Hackman. He ponders why the film hasn't caught on as a legendary flop, as it certainly would today in the age of social media. My guess is that everyone was still talking about "Heaven's Gate".

The Blu-ray also contains the trailer and a gallery of other KL titles with Hackman starring and two radio spots, one of which is absurd and refers to the film as the "Barbra Streisand picture" without even mentioning Hackman. Recommended, if only for Richter's wonderful interview.

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Paramount has released a 20-movie DVD collection dedicated to the films of Jerry Lewis. Titles include the Martin and Lewis classics and many of Jerry's solo films. Best of all, the set is packed with hours of  bonus materials, including commentary tracks with Lewis on some of the key titles. Here is the official description:

"20 hilarious Jerry Lewis classics for the first time ever in one DVD collection, including The Nutty Professor, Cinderella, The Bellboy, Scared Stiff, The Disorderly Orderly, The Family Jewels, Artists and Models, The Ladies Man, Sailor Beware, Pardners, The Errand Boy, The Patsy, Living it Up, The Stooge, The Caddy, The Delicate Delinquent, You're Never Too Young, Hollywood or Bust, Jumping Jacks, and That's My Boy.

• · The largest collection of Jerry Lewis films ever assembled by Paramount.

• · Contains hours of assorted special features on select titles, including deleted scenes, trailers, and commentary tracks."

It's enough to make you shout "LADDDYYY!"

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

At one point in the 1983 zany comedy "The Survivors", Robin Williams says to co-star Walter Matthau: "I was overreacting." It would have been more accurate if he had said "I was overacting" because Williams, who was certainly a comedic genius, also had the ability to go over-the-top in his quest to get a laugh or, conversely, to ring sentiment from playing dramatic scenes in a mawkish manner. To paraphrase Longfellow's famous poem, "When he was good, he was very, very good, but when he was bad, he was horrid." In "The Survivors", Williams doesn't quite reach the level of being horrid and there's plenty of blame to go around for this misfire, but he certainly contributes to its quick demise thanks to his failure to get a definable grip on his character. The premise of the film must have seemed promising when it was first developed as a vehicle to reunite Peter Falk and Alan Arkin, who had found great success co-starring in "The In-Laws". For whatever reason, the reunion never materialized and Joseph Bologna was signed to co-star with Williams under the direction of Michael Ritchie. Ritchie had an interesting background, having directed an eclectic assortment of films. They ranged from his acclaimed drama "Downhill Racer", the sports comedies "Semi-Tough" and "The Bad News Bears", the political satire "The Candidate", the social satire "Smile" and the bizarre but hypnotic crime thriller "Prime Cut"- all good movies, indeed. But shortly after production started, Bologna walked off the film, citing the oft-used excuse of "creative differences", presumably with Ritchie. Walter Matthau was called in to replace him, having worked successfully with Ritchie on "The Bad News Bears". The script was by Michael Leeson, who had written most of the scripts for the landmark sitcom "The Cosby Show". So far, so good. 

"The Survivors" opens in New York City during the grungy period of the early 1980s. Robin Williams plays Donald Quinelle, an affable but bumbling executive who thinks his career is set, only to report to work and experience being fired by his boss's talking parrot. He is put through the grueling process of applying for unemployment insurance, which is made to look like a old breadline from the Soviet era. Meanwhile, we're introduced to Walter Matthau as Sonny Paluso, a long-time franchisee of a gas station. He is equally unceremoniously dismissed when the oil company decides to revoke his franchise, leaving him high and dry and without unemployment insurance, due to a legal technicality. Prior to this, we had seen the wholesale destruction of his gas station when Donald,who was fueling up in a careless manner, accidentally ignites the place with a tossed cigarette. The two men later find themselves coincidentally dining at the same restaurant when it is held up by a masked man who demands that the captive patrons disrobe and hand over their money. Donald resists and bumbles his way into subduing the bandit, getting wounded in the process and becoming a fleeting hero in the media. The bandit is Jack Locke (Jerry Reed), a cool-as-a-cucumber one-time hit man who has been affected by the economic downturn, thus he's been reduced to being a small-time robber. He manages to get out of police custody and he has both men in his sites as revenge for turning him in. He breaks into Sonny's house, where the divorced dad lives with his precocious, porn-loving 16 year-old daughter Candice (Kristen Vigard) and prepares to kill Sonny. An unexpected drop-by visit by Donald results in a series of bizarre comedic set pieces. Cutting to the chase (literally), Donald inexplicably becomes an expert in self-defense and amasses an arsenal of assault weapons. He has fallen under the spell of a far right cult leader, Wes Huntley (James Wainwright), who runs a paramilitary camp in rural Vermont. Donald leaves his fiancee and heads for the hills to join the cult. Sonny learns that Jack Locke knows his whereabouts and he and Candice race to the camp to warn Donald.  The whole mad, mad, mad, mad fiasco disintegrates further when Reed shows up and attempts to murder Donald and Sonny, but ends up allying himself with them when they are marked for death by Wes. If you think all of this is convoluted to read, wait until you see it unwind on screen.

A major problem with the production is that Matthau is playing in a semi-realistic comedy whereas director Ritchie allows Williams to dabble in theatre of the absurd. One minute, he's in Robin Williams lovable loser mode, the next minute he's like a raving psychopath. Rarely have I seen him so consistently unfunny. Matthau steals the film by simply playing a typical Walter Matthau character: grumpy with his trademark hangdog facial expressions. Jerry Reed tries his best to invigorate the hit man character, but it's wildly inconsistent and unbelievable. Once the action shifts to Vermont, the pace is deadly and the jokes become weaker and more repetitive. It's as though Ritchie was just trying to run out the clock in order to meet the minimal running time. The film also suffers from some very sloppy aspects that are inexcusable. In the beginning of the film, a preoccupied Donald stops at Sonny's station to gas up- but he fails to insert the hose into the gas tank, thus allowing fuel to flow everywhere and later ignite when he tosses a cigarette nearby.  The scene is absurd, but for all the wrong reasons. Even if Donald doesn't see the ocean of fuel gathering on the ground around him, why would he not smell the pungent odor? Later, when Donald becomes suddenly obsessed with owning weapons, he drops by a local gun fair where enthusiasts are passing around military-grade hardware that is being sold openly and seemingly with no questions asked. However, at the time, New York City had (and continues to have) some of the strongest gun control laws in the United States. I have never heard of such events taking place there, though they are common in other parts of the country. It rings hollow and makes it seem like screenwriter Michael Leeson had never been in Gotham in his life. Additionally, when Donald decides to move to Vermont, he gets there via a taxi cab. The scenario calls out for a joke, but, alas, none comes. Let's set the record straight: in an unemployed person decided to travel to Vermont via a local taxi in 1983, they would still be paying off the fare today.

When "The Survivors" opened, it met with deadly reviews and was considered a boxoffice failure. New York Times critic Vincent Canby bemoaned the film thusly, "Most astonishing is that a director of Mr. Ritchie's taste and talent could have allowed a project of such utter foolishness to get to the point that it was actually filmed."  Indeed.

("The Survivors" is currently streaming on Amazon Prime. Click here to order the DVD from Amazon)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

At first glance, "Voyeur", a 2017 original Netflix documentary, would seem to be as salacious as its title might imply- but it unexpectedly transforms into a fascinating and highly engrossing character study of two men from disparate backgrounds who are brought together by a common interest in sexual practices. In 1980, the famed journalist Gay Talese was contacted by a Colorado man, Gerald Foos, who suggested that he might have a tale worthy of Talese's talents. Foos informed the bestselling author that he was the owner of a nondescript motel, the kind of place people stop at for a night while passing through town. As with many other U.S. motels, a prurient inducement was advertised: the rooms had pornographic movies you could access on the TV, a big deal back in the pre-internet era. Foos told Talese that sex was very much on his mind and was an incentive to buying the motel. He claimed he was a voyeur, but not the average Peeping Tom who might glance in a neighbor's window in hopes of seeing a woman is some stage of undress. Foos was a professional snoop. He had meticulously transformed the crawlspace above one of the motel rooms into an eavesdropping vantage point worthy of an episode of "Mission: Impossible". The vents allowed him to see directly down to the bed but he could not be seen even if a customer were to stare straight up. Foos was an everyday, unassuming guy and was unlike another motel owner with creepy habits - Norman Bates of "Psycho"- in that he was not lonely or desperate for sex. In fact, Foos was married and his wife Anita indulged him the way a wife might for a husband's mainstream hobby. She would even tip-toe to the crawlspace to provide Gerald with refreshments and food if he was putting in some long hours staring down at his oblivious customers. The goal, of course, was to watch couples engage in sexual activities. He was more often than not rewarded for his patience.

This story appealed to Gay Talese, who was no shrinking violet when it came to sex. In fact, for a decade he had been researching his book "Thy Neighbor's Wife", a non-fiction examination of American sexual practices in the post-WWII era. There was plenty to research, as anyone who came of age in the late 1960s-1970s could attest. Before AIDS brought down the curtain on promiscuous activity, sex was everywhere, and largely guilt-free. Talese chronicled all this in his book, which was first published in 1981 and updated in 2009. As part of his research, he actually operated a massage parlor. lived in a nudist colony and engaged in sexual activities, despite the fact that his marriage was already hanging by a thread. When the book was published, it reached bestseller status and Talese revisited the Gerald Foos situation. He traveled to the motel and Foos escorted him to the crawlspace where the two men spied on people engaging in sex. Talese thought the tale was fantastic and over the years and he Foos formed a friendship of sorts. Foos, who has narcissistic tendencies, relished the fact that a New York City dandy with a famous name would be interested in his story. Talese saw the potential for another bestseller. He found Foos to be a guilt-free, jolly guy who was proud of his "accomplishment" and wanted to brag about it, with the prestige of having Talese tell his story. Their relationship continued even after Foos and his wife sold the motel.

Talese, who is an old school journalist who relies on shoe leather, personal interviews and an abundance of yellow paper writing pads, kept meticulous notes of his conversations with Gerald Foos. They formed the basis of the documentary "Voyeur", directed by Myles Kane and Josh Koury, which premiered on Netflix in 2017 but which I only recently discovered. I wasn't the only one in the dark about the documentary. In 2016, Steven Spielberg planned to make a feature film with director Sam Mendes about the Talese/Foos relationship, only to learn of the documentary, which caused him to drop the project. The documentarians spent a good many months (perhaps years) filming candid conversations with Talese and Foos, sometimes together, but mostly as individuals. Talese believed Foos was being honest with him but was haunted by the fact that Foos was his only source for these remarkable tales. It's the first rule of journalism that a writer trusts a single source at their own peril. When Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein of the Washington Post unearthed information that indicated the highest levels of the Nixon administration were involved in the Watergate scandal, their editor, Ben Bradlee, refused to print the story unless the reporters could find additional sources. They ultimately did, as recounted in "All the President's Men", but it was a painful, time-consuming process. Nevertheless, they emerged as honored journalists and brought down a corrupt presidency. In the documentary, Talese ponders aloud if he is being too trusting of Foos, but decides that since he had personally witnessed the crawlspace, the rest of his tales must be true. That theory is put to the test when Foos reveals he had inadvertently witnessed a drug dealer murder his girlfriend in the room in 1977 but never reported it. Foos said he thought the woman was only injured. The body was found by the maid the next morning. However, when Talese tries to validate the story, there was no record of it in newspaper archives. However, there was a murder in a nearby motel around that time. Was Foos expropriating that incident to sensationalize his own story? 

The documentary examines journalistic methods and accountability. They are especially relevant today when elected officials with much to hide have convinced large sections of the population that real news is fake news and vice-versa. In fact, the film documents the extent to which seasoned journalists go to in order to insure accuracy. Their reputations are on the line, as Talese finds out after publication of his book about Foos, "The Voyeur's Motel", when a Washington Post reporter notifies him that he has unearthed provable inaccuracies in the tale. We watch Talese go into an emotional tailspin, first denouncing his own book, then attempting damage control. He blames Foos and himself for the scandal. Talese gets testy even with the filmmakers, insulting them on camera at one point and drawing them into the narrative. There is a morbid fascination in watching him melt down on camera. Was he sloppy in his research? Was he snookered by a man he trusted? Was he guilty of ignoring the famous cautionary line from John Ford's "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance": "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend"?

Foos, meanwhile, tries his own damage control and is more concerned about losing his friendship with a world famous author than a string of loose facts he had been feeding him. Foos also gripes that, in a newspaper interview to promote the book, Talese disclosed that Foos had a priceless collection of baseball memorabilia on display in his basement. Foos is outraged because he now fears he will be targeted by crooks, overlooking the fact that he had already willingly given Talese a tour of through the collectibles on film for use in the documentary.

The film will not placate the general population, which is already understandably a bit paranoid about where we are and what we do in the modern era. At one time, tiny cameras and recording devices were employed by the likes of Napoleon Solo. But today, any schmuck can by miniature eavesdropping equipment. No one knows if the room the or house they are renting isn't making their activities the object of someone's obsession.

"Voyeur" is a remarkable achievement, not only as a film, but as a sociological study of sexual perversion and journalistic practices, two subjects that are not often paired. The directors also edited the film and have done a very impressive job, given the countless hours of footage they must have had to sort through. There is also a good, appropriate score by Joel Goodman that captures the mood of the film perfectly. There is a bit of schmaltz in the film, with the directors resorting to recreations of sexual activities to represent what Foos is observing. They are tastefully done and not graphic but one could argue that Ken Burns makes documentaries about subjects pertaining to the eras before the advent of films and never uses recreations. Nevertheless, "Voyeur" is a highly engrossing achievement. Recommended. 

(For the Guardian's article about the credibility scandal relating to Talese's book, "The Voyeur's Motel", click here.)

Give Dad the Gift of Adventure in Stunning 4K Ultra HD on June 14, 2022

The epic search for the perfect Father’s Day gift ends on June 14, 2022 when Raiders of the Lost Ark arrives in a Limited-Edition 4K Ultra HD Blu-ray SteelBook from Lucasfilm Ltd. and Paramount Home Entertainment. 

Relive all the edge-of-your-seat excitement in director Steven Spielberg’s cinematic classic starring Harrison Ford as legendary hero Indiana Jones.  Also starring Karen Allen, Paul Freeman, John Rhys-Davies, Denholm Elliott, and Alfred Molina, Raiders of the Lost Ark continues to delight audiences of all ages with its thrilling, globe-trotting adventure. 

Available individually on 4K Ultra HD for the first time, the Raiders of the Lost Ark SteelBook is the first of four planned limited-edition releases of each Indiana Jones movie.  Fans of the franchise can look forward to collecting Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom on July 12, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade on August 16, and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on September 20. With exclusive packaging celebrating the iconic original theatrical artwork, these collectible releases are sure to be a hit with fans.  The films are presented in 4K Ultra HD with Dolby Vision® and HDR-10 for ultra-vivid picture quality and state-of-the-art Dolby Atmos® audio*.   Each SteelBook also includes access to a digital copy of the corresponding movie, as well as a mini-poster reproduction.

Synopsis

Get ready for edge-of-your-seat thrills in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Indy (Harrison Ford) and his feisty ex-flame Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen) dodge booby-traps, fight Nazis and stare down snakes in their incredible worldwide quest for the mystical Ark of the Covenant. Experience one exciting cliffhanger after another when you discover adventure with the one and only Indiana Jones. 

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BY DOUG OSWALD

Aldo Ray, Cliff Robertson and Raymond Massey are soldiers at odds with one another in “The Naked and the Dead,” available on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive Collection. It’s 1943 and America is island hopping in the Pacific during WWII. The film was directed by Raoul Walsh and based on the best selling novel written by Norman Mailer, who was inspired by his personal experiences in the Pacific front during the war. “The Naked and the Dead” is a sibling of sorts to “Battle Cry,” another film directed by Walsh and based on a best selling novel by Leon Uris. Both movies share a similar melodrama and the use of extended transgressions that take us out of the battle front via flashbacks. Both movies also share several of the same actors in lead and supporting rolls. It’s hard not to draw comparisons, but “The Naked and the Dead” is the weaker of the two movies in terms of story and performances and it feels like there’s less at stake.

Aldo Ray is the nastiest of the bunch as Sergeant Sam Croft, the seasoned platoon sergeant and borderline sociopath who cuts out gold teeth from dead Japanese soldiers and carries them in a pouch around his neck. In a flashback we meet his wife Mildred, played by Barbara Nichols, who is caught cheating by Croft. Later in the movie, one of Croft’s men finds a wounded bird which Croft crushes to death in his fist. Ray is perfect for this part and while it’s hard to like Croft, it’s hard not to enjoy Ray’s performance in this movie. He’s the kind of platoon sergeant that would inspire anyone to want to transfer out.

Raymond Massey is Brigadier General Cummings, a man of ambition which may exceed his capabilities. In many ways he’s not much different than Sergeant Croft. Both men are overtly depicted, or at the very least it’s insinuated, as being incapable of pleasing their wives. General Cummings feels soldiers are expendable pawns and if this isn’t clear, he discusses this during a game of chess with his military aide. Cummings is okay with the officers having a few luxuries denied the enlisted men.

Cliff Robertson is Lieutenant Robert Hearn, the personal aide for General Cummings. Hearn comes from a respected and wealthy family and he’s lead the life of a playboy until departing for war. We see him dreaming about a dozen beautiful women catering to his every need, but is he longing for the good old days or a wasted bachelor life? The battle of wills between Hearn and Cummings devolves into pettiness by Cummings resulting in Hearn requesting a transfer. Hearn is reassigned to take command of Croft’s platoon and they are ordered to take a hill controlled by the Japanese ahead of an airstrike being pushed by General Cummings.

Assigning Lieutenant Hearn to command the platoon doesn’t sit well with Sergeant Croft,who sends Lieutenant Hearn through the mountain pass knowing the Japanese are there waiting for them. In what appears to be several days journey through the jungle, across a river and then climbing through a mountain pass, several of the men are killed by various means including a venomous snake, falling from a mountain cliff and enemy fire. When it comes time for the survivors to call in the enemy position and meet up with the Navy transport, they seemingly arrive on the beach in minutes. It’s a small quibble, but the movie is trying to be a“Bridge on the River Kwai” -type epic rather than keeping to small scale melodrama. The movie exteriors are believable and were filmed on location in the Republic of Panama with extensive use of studio interiors and matte paintings.

The film opens at the Jungle Bar in Honolulu where we meet the principal characters including stripper Willa Mae (Lily St. Cyr), the love interest of L.Q. Jones as Woody Wilson, one of several familiar faces in the film. Filling out the platoon is William Campbell as Brown, Richard Jaeckel as Gallagher, Joey Bishop as Roth and Robert Gist as Red. They offer much of the brief comic relief in the otherwise grim movie.

Raoul Walsh’s career was winding down by the time he directed “The Naked and the Dead.” Known for his crime dramas and military themed movies, Walsh created the tough guy personas associated with James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart and Errol Flynn in a wide variety of hit movies throughout the 1930s, 40s and 50s.

The screenplay is by Denis and Terry Sanders. Denis is a two-time Academy Award winning documentarian and is perhaps best known for directing the 1970 documentary “Elvis: That’s the Way it Is” and the 1971 concert movie “Soul to Soul.” Denis also directed the 1962 war drama “War Hunt,” the 1964 drama “Shock Treatment” and the 1973 cult favorite “Invasion of the Bee Girls.” He also worked as a director and writer on several 1950s and 1960s TV series. He would occasionally work with his brother Terry, another two-time Academy Award winner, a writer and also director, mostly for television. He’s probably best known for his military themed documentaries such as 1989s “Return with Honor”, 2008 film “Fighting for Life” and most recently the 2021 documentary “9th Circuit Cowboy.”

“The Naked and the Dead” was a co-production by RKO and Warner Bros. released in August 1958. The movie is presented in widescreen WarnerScope, features a score by the great Bernard Herrmann and clocks in at two hours and 11 minutes. If the movie suffers, it’s because it needs more time to flesh out the characters, especially those played by Cliff Robertson and Raymond Massey, as their parts feel underdeveloped. When we finally get to the climactic action piece, the movie tends to bog down. The Blu-ray looks and sounds terrific with the theatrical trailer as the only supplement on the disc. The movie is a guilty pleasure of mine and, while far from perfect, makes a great weekend double bill with “Battle Cry.” The movie is recommended for fans of gritty military films.

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