By Fred Blosser

“Tales of Adventure Collection 2,” a special edition, Blu-ray box set from Australia’s Imprint Films, gathers five movies from the 1940s and ‘50s with “wild and dangerous” jungle settings. To the best of my memory, I don’t recall seeing any of them among the scores of jungle pictures I enjoyed as a kid in the ‘50s and early ‘60s, either on the big screen or on local TV morning movie matinees. Of the five diverse selections in the Imprint box set, three are Republic Pictures productions, the fourth is a Paramount release, and the fifth bears the Columbia Pictures logo. All five feature superior transfers (the three Republic entries are transfers from 4K scans of the original negatives) and captions for the deaf and hard of hearing, and four of them come with excellent audio commentaries. Younger viewers be aware, the films tend to reflect attitudes about race and conservation that were commonplace seventy years ago, but frowned upon today; you won’t see anything remotely like Black Panther’s democratic technocracy of Wakanda here.

The older two Republic releases, both in black-and-white and paired here on one disc, underscore the studio’s reputation as a purveyor of lowbrow entertainment with stingy production values. “Angel on the Amazon” (1948) begins with Christine Ridgeway (Vera Hruba Ralston) trekking through the Amazon jungle with safari hat and rifle, stalking panthers. It promises (or threatens, if you’re a conservationist) to become a film about big-game hunting, where wild animals exist to be turned into trophy heads. But then Christine’s station wagon breaks down, and she radios for help. Pilot Jim Warburton (George Brent) flies in with the needed carburetor part, just in time for the party to escape from “headhunters.” This may be the only jungle movie in history where rescue depends on a delivery from Auto Zone. Jim is enchanted by Christine, but she has something to hide and refuses to warm up to his advances. Later, meeting Jim again in Rio de Janeiro, she becomes frightened when an elderly, apparently harmless man watches her from a distance. As film historian Philippa Berry notes on the informative audio commentary for the Blu-ray, the answer to the mystery revolves around the then-popular theme of physical effects from psychological trauma, here given a mystical and somewhat absurd twist. The studio-bound sets and back projection that waft the characters from the Amazon to Rio and then to Pasadena, California, are charmingly phoney. George Brent and two other fading co-stars from the 1930s, the aristocratic Brian Aherne and Constance Bennett, stoutly maintain straight faces in the backlot rain forest.

“Daughter of the Jungle” (1949) is even more formulaic, as a young blonde woman raised in the jungle comes to the aid of pilot Paul Cooper (James Cardwell), a policeman, and two gangsters in the lawman’s custody when their plane crashes somewhere in Africa. Called Ticoora by the local tribe, she is actually Irene Walker, who was stranded with her millionaire father in their own plane crash twelve years before. As film historian Gary Gerani notes in his audio commentary track, Ticoora is one of a long line of virginal jungle sirens in movies that range from the ridiculously sublime, like 1959’s “Green Mansions,” to the sublimely ridiculous, like 1983’s “Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.” She can summon elephants with a Tarzan-like yodel that recalls Carol Burnett’s parodies on her old TV show. As Ticoora leads the party to safety, the oily head gangster, Kraik, schemes a way to claim her inheritance, which awaits in New York. Some viewers will see Kraik, played by the great Sheldon Leonard with a constant volley of “dese, dose, and dem” insults, as the only reason to stay with the movie’s plod through lions, gorillas, crocodiles, and indigenous Africans played by white actors in greasepaint. Others (I plead guilty) tend to view unassuming, ramshackle pictures like this one more leniently, providing we can accept if not endorse their racial attitudes as a product of their times. Consistent with Republic’s nickel-and-diming on its B-feature releases, especially those made in the late ‘40s, the more spectacular long shots of Ticoora swinging from vines in her above-the-knee jungle skirt were recycled from one of the studio’s earlier releases. In those scenes, it’s actually Francis Gifford’s stunt doubles in the same outfit from the 1941 serial “Jungle Girl,” not Lois Hall who plays Ticoora in the new footage. Gary Gerani’s audio commentary provides lots of information about the cast, including the two obscure leads, Lois Hall and James Cardwell. Gerani points out that the Blu-ray print, from the original negative, presents the movie’s full 80-minute version for the first time ever. The 69-minute theatrical release in 1949 omitted some B-roll filler and some scenes where Paul woos Irene. More action, less kissy, was crucial for encouraging positive playground word-of-mouth from sixth graders in the audience—the pint-sized forerunners of today’s Tik-Tok influencers.

The third movie retrieved from Republic’s vaults, “Fair Wind to Java” (1953), was one of the studio’s intermittent efforts to offer more expensive productions in living Trucolor, with a rousing Victor Young musical score, to compete with major postwar costume epics from the MGM and Paramount powerhouses. Ironically, Paramount now owns the rights to Republic’s home video library. In 1883 Indonesia, New England sea captain Boll (Fred MacMurray) picks up the trail of lost diamonds also sought by a pirate chief, Pulo Besar (Robert Douglas). Obstacles include the pirates, some scurvy knaves in Boll’s own crew, Dutch colonial authorities, and the fact that the only person who can direct Boll to the treasure is dancing girl Kim Kim (Vera Hruba Ralston), who has only an imperfect memory of the route from her childhood. Substitute Indiana Jones for Captain Boll, and you’d hardly notice the switch. It turns out that the gems are hidden in a temple on Fire Island—unfortunately for the captain, not the friendly enclave of Fire Island, N.Y., but the volcanic peak of Krakatoa. Will Krakatoa blow up just as the rival treasure hunters make landfall there? Are you kidding? The script doesn’t disappoint, and neither do the FX by Republic’s in-house technical team, Howard and Theodore Lydecker. A former ice skating star who escaped Czechoslovakia ahead of the Nazis, Ralston was the wife of Republic studio head Herbert J. Yates and widely derided as a beneficiary of nepotism who couldn’t act her way out of an audition. She was still a punch line for comics in the 1960s, long after most people had forgotten the point of the joke. In reality, both here and in “Angel on the Amazon,” she is an appealing performer, no more deserving of ridicule than other actresses of her time with careers mainly in escapist pictures. The sultry but vulnerable Kim Kim was the kind of role that Hedy Lamarr might have played under other circumstances. Ralston’s performance is at least as engaging, and she looks mighty nice in brunette makeup and sarong.

If you first met Fred MacMurray as the star of “My Three Sons,” as I did as a kid, it may take some adjustment to see him in action-hero mode. It’’s no big deal when Dwayne Johnson or Jason Statham slings a bandolier over his shoulder or has his shirt torn off in a brawl with a pugnacious sailor . . . but Fred MacMurray? When Boll ponders whether or not to trust his shifty first mate Flint (John Russell), it’s a little like MacMurray’s suburban dad asking Uncle Charlie if he should trust Robbie and Chip with the family car. John Wayne was originally envisioned for the role, following his starring credit in a similar Republic production, “Wake of the Red Witch,” but MacMurray wasn’t completely out of his element, having played lawmen and gunslingers in several Westerns before his sitcom days. Frankly, it’s fun to see the normally buttoned-down actor shooting it out with the pirates and racing a tsunami. Imprint includes another excellent commentary, this one by historian Samm Deighan. As she notes, colourfully mounted and briskly scripted movies like this were designed to attract the whole family in those days before Hollywood marketing fractured along lines of audience gender, age, and race. As she observes, Junior might not recognise the sado-sexual elements of the scene where Pulo Besar’s burly torturer (played by Buddy Baer!) strips Kim Kim and plies his whip across her bare back. All in a day’s work in the dungeon. But dad likely would have sat up and paid close attention.

Only a year later (1954), Paramount’s “Elephant Walk” furthered Hollywood’s trend of filming exteriors for its more prestigious movies in actual overseas locations rather than relying on studio mockups, as “Fair Wind to Java” did. Ruth Wiley (Elizabeth Taylor at her most luminous) travels to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) with her new husband John (Peter Finch), the charming and prosperous owner of a tea plantation. Initially, Ruth is enraptured by the lush countryside and John’s bungalow, Elephant Walk, actually a mansion almost as large as Grand Central Station and a lot more lavish. But trouble portends as Ruth realizes that the memory of John’s imperious father Tom, reverently called “the Governor” by John and the other British residents, still pervades and controls the household. The elderly head steward, Appuhamy (Abraham Sofaer), is quietly hostile when Ruth questions the need to continue running the house exactly as it was run in the Governor’s day. In trying to communicate with the other indigenous servants and workers, she runs into the barriers of language and culture. The estate itself, complete with Old Tom’s mausoleum in the backyard, is built across an ancestral path the native elephants still try to use as a short cut to their watering holes. Hence its name. Wiley keeps the peripatetic pachyderms out with a wall. His plantation manager (Dana Andrews) is more sympathetic to Ruth, and the two fall in love as the increasingly surly John lapses back into old habits of drinking all night with rowdy fellow expatriates who camp out in the sprawling mansion. Andrews’ character is named “Dick Carver,” the kind of name you’re not likely to see on credits anymore outside Pornhub. I wonder if some moviegoers in 1954 found it funny too?

If the combination of shaky marriage, illicit affair, and luxurious colonial life on a jungle plantation sounds familiar, you may be thinking of “Out of Africa” (1985) or the less romanticised “White Mischief” (1987), the latest examples of this particular jungle sub-genre of domestic drama in the tropics. As Gary Gerani points out in his audio commentary, enthusiasts of melodrama will also cry “Rebecca!” in the subplot about the shadow that “the Governor’s” pernicious, posthumous influence casts over the married couple. The movie’s lush Technicolor palate, William Dieterle’s sleek direction, the special FX of an elephant stampede, Edith Head’s ensembles for Liz, and Franz Waxman’s symphonic score have an old-fashioned Hollywood polish, shown to good effect on the Blu-ray. But as Gerani notes, the script by John Lee Mahin, based on a 1948 novel, offers an implicit political commentary too. As viewers of “The Crown” know, British rule was already crumbling in the Third World in the early 1950s and would soon fall, just like Wylie’s wall faces a renewed assault by drought-stricken elephants in the final half hour of the movie. Thanks to the capable cast, glossy production values, and a script that takes interesting, unexpected turns, I liked “Elephant Walk” more than I thought I would.

Terence Young’s “Safari” (1956) from Columbia Pictures begins with a jaunty title song to a percussive beat that wouldn’t be out of place in “The Lion King”—“We’re on safari, beat that drum, / We’re on safari to kingdom come”—leading you to think that the picture will be a romp like “Call Me Bwana” (1963), “Clarence the Cross-Eyed Lion” (1965), or the last gasp of jungle comedies so far, “George of the Jungle” (1997). But the story takes a grim turn almost immediately. An American guide and hunter in Kenya, Ken Duffield (Victor Mature), is called back from a safari to find his 10-year-old son murdered and his home burned by Mau Mau terrorists. He determines to find and kill the murderer, Jeroge (Earl Cameron), a formerly trusted servant who, unknown to Duffield, had “taken the Mau Mau oath.” The British authorities revoke Duffield’s license to keep him from interfering with their attempts to apprehend Jeroge and the other culprits, but then they hand it back under pressure from Sir Vincent Brampton (Roland Culver), who comes to Africa to kill a notorious lion called “Hatari.” “You know what ‘Hatari’ means, don’t you?” Duffield asks. “It means danger”—the very tagline used for Howard Hawks’ movie of the same name a few years later. Coincidence? Brampton is a wealthy, borderline sociopathic bully who makes life miserable for his finance Linda (Janet Leigh) and assistant Brian (John Justin), and Duffield doesn’t much care for him either. But the millionaire insists on hiring Duffield as the best in the business, and the hunter uses the safari as a pretext for pursuing Jeroge into the bush. The script juxtaposes Duffield’s chase after Jeroge with Brampton’s determination to bag Hatari, but the millionaire is such an unpleasant character (well played by Culver) that most of us will hope the lion wins.

This was one of the last “big bwana” movies where no one thinks twice about killing wild animals for sport, and viewers sensitive about the subject may not share Sir Vincent’s enthusiasm for Ken Duffield’s talents, or the production’s matter-of-fact scenes of animals collapsing from gunshots. The political material about the Mau Maus is a little dicey too; the Mau Mau insurrection of 1952-60 was more complicated than the script suggests. Poster art for the movie, reproduced on the Blu-ray sleeve, depicts a fearsomely painted African. Actually, it isn’t a Mau Mau but a friendly Massai tribesman; Linda makes the same mistake in the movie before learning that the Massai have agreed to help Duffield track Jeroge. Squirm-worthy dialogue occurs as well, when Duffield and Brampton alike refer to the hunter’s African bearers and camp personnel as “boys.” But Terence Young’s brisk, muscular direction on outdoor locations in Kenya is exemplary, and the CinemaScope vistas of Kenya in Technicolor are sumptuous. This was one of Young’s four projects behind the camera for Irving Allen and Albert R. Broccoli’s Warwick Films, preceding Broccoli’s later partnership with Harry Saltzman when the producers engaged Young to direct the inaugural James Bond entries. For 007 fans, it may be heresy to suggest that his work on “Safari” equals that on his best Bond picture, “From Russia With Love,” but so be it. The Imprint Blu-ray doesn’t contain an audio commentary or other special features, but the hi-def transfer at the 2.55:1 widescreen aspect ratio is perfect.

“Tales of Adventure Collection 2” contains the four region-free Blu-ray Discs in a sturdy hardbox, illustrated with a collage from the poster art for the five movies in the set. Limited to a special edition of 1,500 copies, it can be ordered HERE. (Note: prices are in Australian dollars. Use currency converter for non-Australian orders.)

By Lee Pfeiffer

 "Number One" (released in certain countries under the title "Pro") is an off-beat vehicle for Charlon Heston, who was then at his peak of popularity. The fact that the movie under-performed at  the box-office and failed to score with critics didn't diminish Heston's status as a leading man. He would go on to star in such hits as "The Omega Man", "Skyjacked", "Soylent Green" "Earthquake", "Midway"and "Airport '75"- with cameos in the popular "The Three Musketeers" and "The Four Musketeers". The poor response to "Number One" doesn't diminish its many merits - and the fact that Heston was willing to play against type in a largely unsympathetic role. For the film, he reunited with director Tom Gries, with whom he made the acclaimed 1968 Western "Will Penny".  Curiously, both movies center on the same theme: a macho man who can't come to grips with the fact that he is aging and, therefore, his chosen way of life is threatened. In "Will Penny", Heston played the title character: a middle-aged cowboy who feels the inevitable aches and pains of trying to maintain a career that is clearly suited for younger men. Similarly, in "Number One" he plays "Cat" Catlan, a star quarterback for the New Orleans Saints football team. Catlan has seen plenty of fame and glory as the team's Golden Boy and the idol of the crowds. But now he is 40 years old and, although still in Herculean physical condition compared to most men his age, he's fallen victim to the constant brutalities he suffers on the field.

The film opens on a particularly disastrous game in which Catlan makes some serious misjudgments about plays and bungles some key passes. The result is an embarrassing loss for the team. The Saints' gruff coach Southerd (John Randolph) isn't ready to give up on Catlin but seemingly every other team member is. Catlan is subjected to some cruel jokes and he has to contend with the fact that a much younger player (Richard Elkins) is breathing down his neck, hoping to replace him as quarterback. Things aren't much better at home for Catlan. His long-suffering wife Julie (Jessica Walter) patiently endures his mysterious absences, unpredictable mood swings and volatile temper. She is a very successful fashion designer but Catlan is "old school" when it comes to the role of wives. He wants Julie to stay home and cater to his needs. In the midst of one of their frequent fights, he even stoops so low as to cruelly tease her about her inability to conceive a baby. Still, she sticks with him even when he confesses to having an affair with an attractive, self-made woman, Ann (Diana Muldaur). Faced with the fact that his career is winding down, Catlan reluctantly explores his options for his post-NFL life. They aren't very enticing. His best friend Richie (Bruce Dern), is an obnoxious former Saints player who brags about having gotten out of the game at age 34. He now runs a very successful car leasing business and lives a playboy lifestyle. He wants Catlan to work for him, a prospect that doesn't sit well with the aging quarterback. He also gets an offer from a computer company to work for them but the idea of dealing of being surrounded by machines in the confines of an office is repugnant to him. Ultimately, Catlan is inspired by his wife to go out on a high note. During one of their rare moments of domestic detente, she convinces him that he still has some good games in his future if he can shake off the funk and get his confidence back. The film's climactic game is the very definition of mixed emotions. Catlan performs well and has his mojo back but the movie's ambiguous final shot is anything but uplifting.

Tom Gries was a good director for Heston. He somehow managed to tamp down Heston's larger-than-life personality and afford him the opportunity to play everyday men. In "Number One", Heston is subject to the sorts of problems that plague most middle-aged men. He's nervous about his future. He often takes his frustrations out on the people closest to him. He tries to reassert his youth by exerting his sexual prowess through having an affair. Throughout it all, Heston admirably does not try to make Catlan into a hero. There is a level of sympathy accorded to him because of the emotional and physical stress he is under but his sheer disregard for others makes him more a villain than a hero. (He even refuses to give fans his autograph). Even worse is his sheer selfishness in how he deals with his wife's needs. He feels threatened by the success she is enjoying in her own career and therefore diminishes her achievements. Heston gives one of his finest performances, ironically, in what was one of his least-seen films.He gets able support from the woefully-underrated Jessica Walter, whose performance a couple of years later in "Play Misty For Me" should have assured her of major stardom (and an Oscar nomination). Director Gries also utilizes the talents of real-life football players, some of whom exhibit impressive acting skills. Diana Muldaur also excels as the siren who lures Catlan into her bed. There is an air of authenticity to the film, primarily because Gries shot much of it in front of packed stadiums. (Cinematographer Michael Hugo's work is especially impressive). Gries also captures the feel of New Orleans back in the day, capitalizing on the local scenery, jazz clubs and even getting the great Al Hirt to perform a number and do a bit of acting. About the only dated aspects of the film concern the off-the-field activities of the NFL players. Catlan complains that they are paid like peasants, which was probably true in 1969, but is a rather laughable notion today. Also, the NFL team is required to wear jackets and ties when traveling to or leaving the stadium, another rule that would be virtually unenforceable by contemporary standards. 

"Number One" never found its audience in 1969 but hopefully retro movie lovers appreciate its merits. Th film did have at least one critic who appreciated the movie and Heston's performance. Writing in the New York Times, critic Howard Thompson wrote: "Charlton Heston, minus a beard, a loincloth, a toga or the Red Sea, tackles a starkly unadorned role in one of the most interesting and admirable performances of his career. If Heston could have been better, we don't know how." Our sentiments exactly. 

The film is currently streaming on Screenpix with an add on subscription for Roku and Amazon Prime subscribers.

By Todd Garbarini

Would you go see a horror film billed as “Makes Night of the Living Dead Look Like a Kids’ (sic) Pajama Party! Scream so they can find you!!!” Somebody did. Released in New York City on Wednesday, March 7,1973 as the second feature on a double bill with Mario Bava’s R-rated 1971 film Twitch of the Death Nerve (the U.S. title of A Bay of Blood), Amando de Ossorio’s The Blind Dead actually was given a theatrical release in a watered down, PG-rated version minus blood, gore and nudity. It is also a tighter cut of the original (known as Tombs of the Blind Dead) as it also dispenses with some prolonged meandering that gets old real fast. Does the truncated Stateside version triumph over the longer original Spanish cut of the film? That depends on the viewer. As a purist who prefers a director’s original vision, I applaud the efforts of the uncut version.

Lensed in 1971 in Spain and Portugal at some truly creeping locales, Tombs of the Blind Dead, clearly influenced by George A. Romero’s aforementioned highly successful Night of the Living Dead (1968), is one of the better Spanish horror films to come out of the 1970s, so much so that it spawned no less than three follow-ups all written and directed by the original’s writer/director: Return of the Blind Dead (1973), The Ghost Galleon (1974), and Night of the Seagulls (1975). The madness begins when Virginia White (María Elena Arpón) encounters her old college lover Betty Turner (Lone Fleming) at a public pool. Their congenial attitude quickly becomes strained when Virginia’s friend Roger Whelan (César Burner) shows up and immediately takes a more-than-platonic liking to Virginia, inviting her on a train ride that he is taking with Betty. Female resentment ensues and Virginia takes it upon herself to jump off the train midway, baggage in hand, and goes off into the ruins of a town named Berzano that the train deliberately bypasses due to an unsavory past. Making creepy and effective use of the Monasterio de Santa Maria la Real de Valdeiglesias, Pelayos de la Presa, Madrid, Spain, the director follows Virginia through the decrepit structures and, unbelievably, camps out solo overnight! Her presence awakens the buried corpses of the Knights Templar from their crypts who attack and kill her, her body found by the train conductor the next morning when on the return trip. Betty and Roger look for Virginia in Berzano, and out of nowhere, two police detectives emerge to question them about their relationship to Virginia. It’s a peculiar entrance into the scene, as though they were standing “stage left” and issued in front of the camera by the offscreen director. Betty and Roger make their way to the requisite know-it-all, The One who comes in at the eleventh hour to explain the goings-on to them, in this case Professor Candal (José Thelman), who explains to them (and the audience) who manipulates them into finding his son, and the this leads to a showdown with the Knights and sets up the film for a continuation.

By Lee Pfeiffer

Oscar-nominated director Norman Jewison has passed away at age 97. Born in Canada, he served in the Canadian navy in WWII. He made his mark in Hollywood in the mid-1960s. His first directorial effort, the romantic comedy "40 Pounds of Trouble" starring Tony Curtis was a hit. This led to him directing Doris Day and James Garner in "The Thrill of It All", one of the most popular movies of 1963. More hit comedies followed including "Send Me No Flowers" with Doris Day and Rock Hudson and the all-star production of "The Art of Love". Jewison got his first opportunity to direct a drama when the mercurially-tempered Sam Peckinpah was fired from "The Cincinnati Kid" starring Steve McQueen in 1965. Jewison stepped in to replace him, earning critical praise. A string of very popular and diverse films followed including the classic Cold War comedy "The Russians are Coming. The Russians are Coming", the racially-tinged crime drama "In the Heat of the Night" which won the Best Picture Oscar and the classic crime caper "The Thomas Crown Affair". Jewison was hoping to cast Sean Connery in the lead role but was persuaded by Steve McQueen to give him the part because McQueen very much wanted to prove he could play a sophisticated rogue. The film was a major hit and spawned a popular 1999 remake starring Pierce Brosnan.

Jewison's diversity as a filmmaker was illustrated by his direction of the high profile 1971 musical "Fiddler on the Roof", based on the Broadway stage production. Jewison was amused when, upon being hired, he confessed to the United Artists brass that he not Jewish, despite his surname. The irony of him directing the ultimate Jewish musical was not lost on the executives who were Jewish. They believed Jewison could be entrusted with the film and it proved to be a major hit in an era in which many other big-budget musicals had flopped. Jewison was nominated for the Best Director Oscar and would be nominated again for the 1987 smash hit comedy "Moonstruck" starring Cher, who did win an Oscar for the film. Not all of Jewison's films were successful critically and at the boxoffice. Among those that didn't meet expectations were "F.I.S.T." and the screen adaptation of "Jesus Christ, Superstar". His futuristic thriller "Rollerball" under-performed in 1975 but has developed a loyal following in the ensuing years. The political satire "And Justice for All" was well-received as was the film adaptation of the play "A Soldier's Story" but most of his other films were not especially successful critically or commercially, although his 1999 production of "The Hurricane" saw Denzel Washington nab a Best Actor nomination in the true life story of former boxer "Hurricane" Carter, who waged a long campaign to prove that he was unjustly jailed for murder. Jewison's film was a lightning rod for controversy. Carter's supporters welcomed the sympathetic portrayal of him as a victim of a racist justice system. Others accused Jewison of being naive and ignoring considerable evidence that Carter was guilty. Either way, Jewison proved he could still stir things up on the big screen. His last big screen feature film was the little-seen "The Statement" starring Michael Caine.

Norman Jewison was a consummate professional who was respected by his peers and appreciated by movie fans worldwide. He was an early contributor to Cinema Retro and we join film lovers around the globe in mourning his passing. For more, click here.

The first issue of Cinema Retro Season 20, #58, has now shipped to subscribers worldwide. If you haven't received the issue yet, you should be getting it soon. Thanks to everyone who subscribed or renewed. If you haven't done so, what are you waiting for?

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Acclaimed films from Todd Haynes, Yorgos Lanthimos, Hou Hsiao-Hsien, Christian Petzold, Lina Wertmuller, Ken Loach, Andrei Tarkovsky, Jafar Panahi, Taika Waititi, Oscar Micheaux, Susan Sontag, Jean-Luc Godard, Bruno Dumont, Jia Zhangke,  Bernardo Bertolucci, Fritz Lang and more arrive on streaming, some for the first time. 

Kino Lorber’s recent acclaimed films Chile ‘76, Close to Vermeer, and new 4K restorations of The Conformist and Millennium Mambo arrive on streaming for the first time.

Kino Lorber, a leading name in independent film distribution for over 45 years, has launched KINO FILM COLLECTION, a new streaming service available in the U.S. on the Amazon Service via Prime Video Channels for $5.99 per month. The Collection will feature new Kino releases fresh from theaters, along with hundreds of films from its expansive library of more than 4,000 titles, many now streaming for the first time.

Films available at launch include award-winning theatrical releases and critically acclaimed hits and classics from around the globe including new 4K restorations of THE CONFORMIST (Bernardo Bertolucci) and key works by notable directors such as DOGTOOTH (Yorgos Lanthimos), TAXI (Jafar Panahi), POISON (Todd Haynes), GANJA & HESS (Bill Gunn), THE SCENT OF GREEN PAPAYA (Tran Anh Hung), A GIRL WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT (Ana Lily Amirpour), COMPUTER CHESS (Andrew Bujalski), PORTRAIT OF JASON (Shirley Clarke), and A TOUCH OF SIN (Jia Zhangke). Joining them are entries from the long-revered Kino canon such as METROPOLIS (Fritz Lang), NOSFERATU (F.W. Murnau), THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI (Robert Wiene), BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN (Sergei Eisenstein), BIRTHRIGHT (Oscar Micheaux) and THE SACRIFICE (Andrei Tarkovsky), all presented in the best versions available anywhere. Rounding out the collection are popular and acclaimed documentaries like BOMBSHELL: THE HEDY LAMARR STORY (Alexandra Dean), Academy Award®-nominated FIRE AT SEA (Gianfranco Rosi), GRACE JONES: BLOODLIGHT AND BAMI (Sophie Fiennes), and BILL CUNNINGHAM NEW YORK (Richard Press).

The Kino Film Collection will be updated monthly with regular streaming premieres of acclaimed films directly from theaters including CHILE ‘76 (Manuela Martelli), FRAMING AGNES (Chase Joynt), BRAINWASHED: SEX-CAMERA-POWER (Nina Menkes), THE SUPER 8 YEARS (Annie Ernaux, David Ernaux-Briot), COSTA BRAVA, LEBANON (Mounia Akl) and THE WORST ONES (Lise Akoka and Romane Gueret), alongside curated treasures from the Kino library and cult film selections from the Kino vault to satisfy genre fans.

December streaming premieres will include a new 4K restoration of MILLENNIUM MAMBO (Hou Hsiao-Hsien), SONGS MY BROTHERS TAUGHT ME (Chloe Zhao), CLOSE TO VERMEER (Suzanne Raes), FINAL CUT (Michel Hazanavicius), BACURAU (Kleber Mendonça Filho, Juliano Dornelles), TOKYO POP (Fran Rubel Kuzui), TWO SMALL BODIES (Beth B), and more. 

Richard Lorber, President and CEO of Kino Lorber, said "I'm excited about Kino Film Collection as a destination for our newest films fresh from festivals and theaters, as well as newly launched restorations of classics and curated selections from our vast library, many streaming for the first time. Over the last 45 years, we've introduced electrifying new films from directors at the vanguard around the world to American audiences, and built a library and brand synonymous with cinematic innovation, distinguished curation, and enduring quality. The Kino Film Collection will be the place to go to find the classics of tomorrow and the best of cinema past."

Lisa Schwartz, Chief Revenue Officer for Kino Lorber, who will oversee the service, said, “The creation of Kino Film Collection is the latest example of our continued commitment to independent film and to ensuring our incredible collection remains available for audiences nationwide. Many streaming services are currently undergoing a shift in their content focus and consequently many titles are becoming increasingly difficult to find. Therefore, we felt it was a business imperative to create a dedicated home where our films would be consistently available to film lovers.  This curated collection allows us to highlight our successful new theatrical releases as well as repertory films and beautifully restored library classics.”

Visit KINOFILMCOLLECTION.COM to sign up for a 7-Day Free Trial.

“A CAPER IN WHITE… AND BLACK”

By Raymond Benson

The film noir movement/trend in Hollywood was fading away by the end of the 1950s decade. Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil (1958) is often cited by film historians and film noir aficionados as the “last true film noir.” However, one picture released in 1959 could very well take that honor, for it indeed exhibits many of the traits of pure film noir (black and white photography, gritty realism, cynical and edgy characters, a heist, and an ending that is, well, not a happy one).

Odds Against Tomorrow was set up by actor and musician Harry Belafonte and was made by his production company. Is it the first film noir with a Black protagonist? This reviewer can’t think of another that preceded it. Basing it on a novel by William P. McGivern, Belafonte hired blacklisted Abraham Polonsky to write the screenplay. Polonsky (who had written the great Body and Soul, 1947) had been caught up in the HUAC investigations in Hollywood, refused to testify in the hearings, and was subsequently blacklisted along with many other writers, producers, directors, and actors. Polonsky, working with co-writer Nelson Gidding, wrote the script under a front-pseudonym, John O. Killens, a living Black novelist. It wasn’t until 1996 that the Writers Guild restored Polonsky’s real name to the credits.

Belafonte apparently had wanted to make a movie that was not only a gripping heist drama but also a statement about prejudice. Of the trio of robbers who attempt a bank robbery in the film, one is Black (Belafonte), the other two are White, and one of the latter is terribly racist… a factor that plays into how the caper ultimately plays out.

New York City. Dave Burke (Ed Begley) is a disgraced former cop who needs money. Earl Slater (Robert Ryan) is an embittered, racist war veteran and ex-con who needs money. Johnny Ingram (Belafonte) is a musician in debt to a gangster because of a gambling addiction, so he needs money, too. Slater lives with needy Lorry (Shelley Winters, in one of her whiny roles) but he has the hots for apartment building neighbor Helen (Gloria Grahame). Johnny is separated from his wife, Ruth (Kim Hamilton) and daughter Edie, but he desperately wants to make good and reunite the family. When Dave learns about an upstate smalltown bank with a vulnerability, he enlists Earl and Johnny in a scheme to steal $150,000, split three ways. Johnny doesn’t want to do it, but the pressure from the mobster and threats to his family force him into it. Earl is not happy that a Black man is part of the plan, and this tension is a major conflict in the heist proceedings. To reveal more would spoil the excitement.

Robert Wise, a filmmaker who seemed to be able to make a great film out of any genre, is at the helm, and he does a terrific job. He had worked with Ryan before in the film noir, The Set-Up (1949). Wise, of course, won Oscars for directing The Sound of Music (1965) and co-directing West Side Story (1961), but also made such diverse classics as The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), The Haunting (1963), and Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)!

This is an intense, engaging picture that generates suspense and has something to say. The script is top-notch, and the performances are heightened just enough to fit firmly into the film noir style. The music, composed by John Lewis and performed by the Modern Jazz Quartet, is phenomenally good, adding another level to the tone and feel of the movie.

Kino Lorber Studio Classics’ new Blu-ray presentation is sharp and clean in glorious black and white. There is an accompanying audio commentary by author/film historian Alan K. Rode. Supplements include Post Screening Q&A interviews with Harry Belafonte (in 2009) and Kim Hamilton (in 2007), plus the theatrical trailer for this and other Kino Lorber film noir titles.

Odds Against Tomorrow is for fans of film noir, heist movies, Robert Wise, Harry Belafonte, Robert Ryan, and other members of the sparkling cast. Highly recommended.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Largely forgotten by the general public, Hickey & Boggs, a 1972 crime thriller, is currently streaming on ScreenPix, a subscription service available as an add-on for Amazon Prime and YouTube subscribers. The film's primary merit is that it reunited I Spy co-stars Bill Cosby and Robert Culp (though by this time, Cosby's fame had eclipsed Culp's, thus resulting in his receiving top billing). In their classic TV show, Culp and Cosby played a tennis pro and his trainer who were actually secret agents. The glitz of the tennis world allowed them to live Bondian lifestyles while they thwarted bad guys. Intriguingly, Hickey & Boggs goes in a very different direction. Resisting the temptation to revive their wise-cracking I Spy personalities, Culp and Cos are seen as down-and-out private investigators in Los Angeles. Both are divorced but pine away for their ex's; they can't pay the office phone bill and they ride around in cars that look like they barely survived a demolition derby. As the TV spots for the film said at the time, "They have to reach up to touch bottom." On the brink of financial disaster, the men finally get a case: they are hired by a mysterious man to find an equally mysterious woman he wants to locate. The money is good, but the seemingly mundane case soon turns deadly with Hickey and Boggs dodging mob hit men, Black Power radicals and unfriendly police brass.

Although the film boasts a screenplay by the noted Walter Hill, this is the weakest aspect of the production. The story becomes completely incomprehensible within minutes and, in terms of confusing aspects of the plot, makes The Big Sleep play like a Pink Panther movie. So many characters and relationships are introduced that the viewer is never sure who is doing what to whom and why. What the film does have is atmosphere, and Culp, who also directed, takes pains to distance the two lead characters from their I Spy counterparts. They still have terrific screen chemistry, however, even as they play against type as two rusty private eyes who can't hit the broad side of a barn even with their .357 Magnums blazing. The film features a number of exciting action sequences and an excellent supporting cast including Rosalind Cash, Vincent Gardenia, Ed Lauter, Bill Hickman (the legendary stunt driver) and, in early career roles, James Woods and Michael Moriarty. It would have helped immensely if the downbeat script was at least decipherable, but as it stands there is still plenty to recommend about Hickey & Boggs.

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“A SCHOOL FOR TELEVISION REPAIRMEN”

By Raymond Benson

The seventh and last entry in the Road to… motion picture series is often cited as the weakest of the Bing Crosby and Bob Hope musical romps, but it’s actually perhaps somewhere more in the middle. This reviewer found many of the comic bits and one-liners to be quite funny, and despite their aging personas (especially Crosby), the duo are in good form.

The series began in 1940 with Road to Singapore and continued through the forties. They were huge successes for Paramount Pictures. The single title made in the fifties (and the only one shot in color), Road to Bali (1952), seemed to be the swan song. It wasn’t until the early sixties that Crosby and Hope decided to do another, this time for United Artists and shot in the UK. Interestingly, fans of the James Bond film series will spot familiar faces and names either on camera or in the credits behind the scenes (Walter Gotell, Syd Cain, Bob Simmons, Maurice Binder, Wally Veevers).

More significant is that The Road to Hong Kong, directed by Norman Panama, features a spy adventure plot that is not unlike the early 007 pictures, and its release preceded the premiere of Dr. No by a little less than seven months! There is a SPECTRE-like villainous organization (the “Third Echelon”) and a caper involving nuclear weapons and space travel (shades of Dr. No and You Only Live Twice). The villains even operate from an underwater laboratory and control room that resembles that of Dr. No's. (When Bob Hope’s character sees all the men and women in lab coats sitting at terminals and monitors, he quips, “Oh, look, a school for television repairmen!”)

As usual, Crosby and Hope are conmen, Harry Turner and Chester Babcock, who unwittingly become involved in a MacGuffin plot to steal plans for Russian rocket fuel so that the Third Echelon and their leader (Robert Morley) can launch nuclear missiles at earth from the moon. Echelon agent Diane (Joan Collins) at first works with the villains, but of course the wacky pair of Harry and Chester win her over to their side.

Oddly, longtime costar Dorothy Lamour is relegated to helping the boys in a small sequence and musical number near the end of the film. It’s a shocking example of how Hollywood viewed aging female stars. A much younger Collins was cast as the lead this time, with Lamour pushed into what amounts to a glorified cameo. Never mind that both Crosby and Hope are much older than Collins and are Lamour’s contemporaries!

It's almost impossible in this day and age not to view the film through the lens of cultural misappropriation. Despite the movie mostly taking place in British Hong Kong, there are very few Asian actors to be seen (and they are mostly extras). Too many white men and women are costumed and made up to be “Asian” (and even Harry participates thusly as part of a disguise). This kind of thing occurred in every Road to… picture, from Singapore to Morocco to Bali. But, as classic film aficionados know, one must approach older films within the context of when they were made and released. In 1962, this sort of thing was commonplace.

An old-school audience will certainly enjoy The Road to Hong Kong. The singing and dancing, the slapstick hijinks, the snappy and silly dialogue, and the references to the previous Roads are enough to delight. Another fun aspect are the many cameos from the likes of Peter Sellers, David Niven, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Jerry Colonna, and others.

Kino Lorber Studio Classics presents a sharp-looking Blu-ray restoration in glorious black and white (this one surely would have benefited from color). An insightful audio commentary by film historian/filmmaker Michael Schlesinger and archivist/historian Stan Taffel accompanies the feature. Rounding out the disk are theatrical trailers from this movie, other Road titles, and other Kino releases.

The Road to Hong Kong is for fans of the series, of Bing Crosby and Bob Hope, and for vintage Hollywood and British films of the early 1960s. Fun stuff.

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"RETRO-ACTIVE: AN ARTICLE FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES"

By Doug Oswald

Released as a burn-to-order DVD from the Universal Vault Series, some may be quick to add that they should have kept "The Conqueror" in the vault. The movie is notorious for being one of the worst movies in Hollywood history. Much has been written about how terrible this movie is so I'm going to avoid jumping on that bandwagon. After all, calling this movie bad is like calling out water for being wet.

The movie is also a part of a conspiracy theory of sorts because many of the cast and crew died from cancer and some have connected those cancer deaths to the location filming in St. George Utah which was the stand-in for the Gobi Desert. St. George is downwind from where the above ground nuclear testing occurred in Nevada. Indeed, many involved with this movie did succumb to cancer including lifetime smoker John Wayne who also denied any connection between his cancer and the St. George location filming.

The CinemaScope widescreen image for "The Conqueror" looks terrific and has an appropriately grand score by Victor Young. The movie stars John Wayne and Susan Hayward and features some of the best character actors of the era including Pedro Armendariz, Agnes Morehead, Thomas Gomez, William Conrad and Lee Van Cleef. If only the movie was the western it tries so hard to be rather than a 13th century historical epic taking place in Central Asia.

Apparently, nobody was more surprised than former actor and director of "The Conqueror", actor Dick Powell, when the Duke insisted on playing the lead. When asked by reporters during production how Wayne looked as Genghis Kahn, Powell replied, "Murderous. Just murderous." I'd say murderous for the viewer too. While there's a lot of ethnicity in the cast (Native American Indians from a local reservation were hired as extras to portray the Mongolian hordes in the movie) it's hard to believe that they couldn't cast a single Asian actor in this movie.

The movie pulled in a healthy profit world-wide for RKO at the time of its initial release in 1956, but it was critically panned and is difficult to watch. "The Conqueror" was a personal favorite of the movie's eccentric producer Howard Hughes who owned RKO at the time and pulled the movie from theatrical and TV distribution. Apparently Hughes watched the movie over and over again, but it was not seen by mortal men again until 1974 after the rights reverted to Paramount. This was the final movie that Hughes personally produced and some may say it would have been better if he had destroyed the negatives and all copies of the movie.

"The Conqueror" was previously released by Universal in 2006 as part of the, "An American Icon: John Wayne 5 Movie Collection" DVD set. That release included the trailer, subtitles and chapters. This burn to order release appears to be produced from the same source material because it looks and sounds identical, but includes no extras and the movie starts up immediately after loading. "The Conqueror" is a rare turkey for the Duke, as most of his post-"Stagecoach" output is very watchable. It's a must-see for die-hard fans of the Duke and when hosting movie nights where you want guests to leave early.

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Here is the New York Times review of the 1967 spoof version of "Casino Royale". Bosley Crowther was one of the most revered (and feared) reviewers during this Golden Age of film criticism. He was also notoriously cranky about the movies he reviewed, so it's somewhat surprising that he found at least some merit in this controversial comedy inspired by Ian Fleming's first James Bond novel.

By Adrian Smith 

In 1965 a huge brightly-painted sculpture of a reclining woman, called ‘Hon – en katedral’ (She – a cathedral), was displayed in a gallery in Stockholm. Visitors would enter the sculpture by walking through an open vagina, and inside they found two floors of amusements including a slide, a vending machine, silent film screenings, a public telephone and a ‘lovers' bench’ whose romantic conversations were secretly transmitted via microphone to a bar. This massive artwork was created by an art collective lead by French artist Niki de Saint Phalle and was a perfect melding of pop art and second wave feminism. 

The evening will include a Q&A session, after which "Amadeus" will be screened. 

For tickets, click here. 

By Lee Pfeiffer

Joyce Randolph, the last remaining cast member of the classic American sitcom "The Honeymooners", has passed away at her New York City home at age 99. She is survived by her son Randy. Regardless of your age, if you grew up in America over the last seven decades, you were exposed to her work on the sitcom, which is iconic in the nation's pop culture. The show was the brainchild of Jackie Gleason who portrayed New York City bus driver Ralph Kramden, bringing to the show elements of his own humble upbringing in Brooklyn. His wife Alice was played by Audrey Meadows and his best friend, sewer worker Ed Norton, was played by Art Carney with Joyce Randolph appearing as his wife Trixie. The concept for the series began as periodic sketches on Gleason's variety show before spinning off as a weekly sitcom. Gleason only did one season despite the success of the series and the episodes became known to fans as "The Classic 39". Gleason would revive "The Honeymooners" as musical sketches in his 1960s variety series. However, he recast the roles of Alice and Trixie, which did not sit well with fans. Additionally, seeing the characters outside of their dank, tiny Brooklyn apartment and now in living color, also dissipated enjoyment of the revival.  In an era in which most female characters were portrayed as mothers who were accepting that husband was the head of the household, "The Honeymooners" went against the grain. For one, both the Kramdens and Nortons never had children, a rarity for the era. Additionally, both Alice and Trixie were not compliant housewives. They challenged their husbands, sometimes in screaming matches, and generally ended up getting their way.

(Joyce attended Cinema Retro's 2016 tribute to Barbara Feldon at Theatre 80 St. Marks in New York. (Photo: Lee Pfeiffer/Cinema Retro)).

Joyce was a personal friend of mine for many years. On numerous occasions I interviewed her at some of New York's legendary arts clubs including The Players and The Lambs. During these appearances, I would interview her about her memories of the series and it was always in front of a full house. She was gracious, funny and a marvelous storyteller. After her husband Richard Charles died in 1997, Joyce continued to be a fixture on Gotham's social circuit, often holding court at the famous bar at Sardi's. Joyce said that while she liked Jackie Gleason, he was difficult to work with as an actor because he only did one rehearsal before the cast had to film each episode before a live audience. She once griped to me that Gleason had a photographic memory when it came to reading the scripts but had little sympathy for his cast mates who did not. She also felt she was very underpaid compared to her co-stars. She told me that many years later, she got even with Gleason when he was marketing the "lost" episodes of "The Honeymooners", which were previously missing sketches of varying lengths from his 1950s variety show. Gleason called her and asked her to sign a release so the shows could be telecast and also marketed on video. Joyce said, "I gave Jackie a piece of my mind" and told him she had been woefully underpaid. If Gleason needed her permission this time, he would have to meet her price. The Great One backed down and relented.

"The Honeymooners": Jackie Gleason, Audrey Meadows, Art Carney and Joyce Randolph. (Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)

One of my fondest memories was accompanying Joyce to a musical stage version of "The Honeymooners" some years ago at the Papermill Playhouse in New Jersey. She very much enjoyed being the center of attention for the press. Fans pressed to get near her and of course many of them tossed out iconic one-liners from the show. Having lived a good, long life, it's hard to say that Joyce has left us prematurely. However, New York won't be quite as much fun as it was when she was making the rounds in the city. I miss her already.

Once again, Turner Classic Movies has created a beautiful and moving video montage of those stars and filmmakers we lost during the year. Every year deprives us of irreplaceable and diverse talents, as the video fully illustrates. Doubtless, you'll have been unaware that some of these revered people had passed away. Their work, however, will be relevant for as long as there is cinema.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

By the time Burt Reynolds finally starred in the 1972 classic "Deliverance", he had been paying his dues in Hollywood for many years with varying degrees of success on television. His feature films, however, were strictly "B" grade. Saul David, who produced a 1970 film starring Reynolds titled "Skullduggery", bemoaned at the time that he should have been a major movie star but bad luck seemed to always interfere. Reynolds wisely cultivated an image as a hip, towel-snapping wiseguy through appearing on seemingly every American game and chat show. His appearances on "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson" merited "must-see TV" status. Ironically, "Deliverance" entirely abandoned this popular image of Reynolds and afforded him a dramatic role that he fulfilled with excellent results. But the success of the film made Reynolds anxious to prove he could sustain his boxoffice clout without the help of a strong co-star, in the case of of "Deliverance", Jon Voight. Reynolds chose wisely for his follow-up feature. "White Lightning" was developed under the working title "McClusky". The role of a hunky, charismatic southern good ol' boy fit Reynolds like a glove because it allowed him to incorporate his penchant for performing stunts with his flippant, wise-cracking TV persona.

Filmed in Arkansas, the movie finds Reynolds as "Gator" McClusky, a man doing prison time for running illegal moonshine. Gator still has another year to spend on the prison farm when he gets word that his younger brother has been murdered. (We see the scene play out over the opening credits in which two young men are brutally drowned in a swamp by the local sheriff, J.C. Connors (Ned Beatty) and his deputy.) Enraged and spoiling for revenge, Gator accepts a deal to work undercover for federal agents to expose Connors as the local Huey Long-type power broker in Bogan County. Indeed, the seemingly affable, understated Connors runs the entire county like a personal fiefdom, using extortion, shakedowns and outright murder to ensure his stature. He also gets a piece of the action from the very moonshiners he's supposed to prosecute. Gator feels uncomfortable working as a snitch but it's the only way to find out why his brother was killed and to bring Connors to justice. Using his considerable charm and his background as a guy from a small rural community, he finds himself quickly working for a moonshine ring headed by Big Bear (R.G. Armstrong), who is brutal in retribution against anyone who crosses him. Gator is assigned to deliver moonshine with a partner, Roy Boone (Bo Hopkins). They spend a lot of time together and become fast friends, even though Roy's hot-to-trot girlfriend Lou (Jennifer Billingsley) succeeds in seducing Gator, thus endangering his mission when Roy gets wind of the deception. When Gator learns the reason why his brother and his friend were murdered, he becomes even more vengeful, leading to a spectacular car chase involving Connors and his corrupt deputies. 

"White Lightning" was directed by Joseph Sargent, who was primarily known for his work in television. He fulfills the requirements of the film quite well, though the spectacular car chases and jaw-dropping action scenes were largely the work of legendary stutman/coordinator Hal Needham, who would go on to work on many films with Reynolds. The film is consistently lively but it also has moments of poignancy and drama. The supporting cast is terrific with Ned Beatty of "Deliverance" reuniting with Reynolds with good results. Beatty underplays the sense of menace attributable to his character. He also plays up his status as a pillar of the community, tossing off barbs about how hippies and big city liberals threaten "our values" and-worst of all- encourage "our coloreds to vote!". Meanwhile, he is heading up a vast criminal enterprise. Jennifer Billingsley is wonderful as the lovable air-headed seductress who will jump into bed with a man if there's a prospect of getting a new dress out of the bargain. There are also fine turns by Bo Hopkins, R.G. Armstrong and Diane Ladd (whose name in the opening and closing credits is misspelled as "Lad". Ouch!) The movie turned out to be a big hit for United Artists, aided in part by striking ad campaigns with the same weapon-as-phallic symbol design employed for Richard Roundtree's "Shaft's Big Score" the previous year coupled with another poster showing Reynolds behind the wheel of a speeding car. Sex and speed became hallmarks for promoting a Reynolds action movie.

Kino Lorber has reissued their 2019 Blu-ray edition, which is first-rate in all aspects, with a fine transfer and a 2014 interview with Burt Reynolds, who looks back fondly on the importance the movie had on proving he could be top-billed in a hit movie. The film initiated his association with rural-based comedies and action films and three years later, a successful sequel ("Gator") would be released. Reynolds also drops the interesting fact that this was to be Steven Spielberg's first feature film. However, Reynolds says the young TV director got cold feet about his ability to film on so many difficult locations, given that his background was largely working in studios. Reynolds praises his co-star Ned Beatty and reminds everyone that "White Lightning" was only his second film, having made his screen debut in "Deliverance".  He is also very complimentary towards Jennifer Billingsley and regrets that she never became a big star. Reynolds also discusses Hal Needham's zealousness for performing dangerous stunts and relates how one key scene in which a car shoots out over water to land on a moving barge almost went disastrously wrong. He says the film has a realistic atmosphere because of the screenplay by William W. Norton, who adapted many aspects of his own hard scrabble life. The only negative note Reynolds sounds is about Diane Ladd, who he cryptically says he did not like working with, although he doesn't go into detail as to why.The set includes a new feature not available on the previous Blu-ray release: a commentary track by film historian collaborators Steve Mitchell and Nathaniel Thompson. As far as commentary tracks are concerned, the duo are always terrific and this outing is no exception. Their easy-going, laid-back and humorous style is appropriate for the tone of the film. They go into great detail about aspects of the and cast. I hadn't realized until listening to the track how on-the-mark they are in assessing Ned Beatty as an actor whose physical appearance varied dramatically depending upon the type of story he was cast in. Indeed, they are correct. The evil good ol' boy corrupt sheriff of "White Lightning" is light years away from the fish-out-water rape victim of "Deliverance" or the demagogic TV executive of "Network". The track is good enough to merit upgrading to this version of the Blu-ray even if you have the previous release.

The Blu-ray also includes the original trailer, which was very effective in playing up Reynolds' emerging star power and reversible sleeve art showing an alternative ad campaign. Highly recommended.

By Lee Pfeiffer

If you're an Amazon Prime subscriber and in the mood to watch 2/3 of a terrific crime thriller, by all means check out "The Outfit", written by Graham Moore and Jonathan McLain. The production marks the directing debut of  Moore, who won the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar for his 2015 WWII spy thriller "The Imitation Game". Why do I refer to this as "2/3 of a terrific crime thriller"? I shall explain later. For now, let's examine the creative set-up of the film's plot. It is set in Chicago in 1956 and all of the action takes place inside a "Bespoke" tailor shop owned by Leonard Burling (Mark Rylance), a Brit who emigrated to Chicago right after WWII. The "Bespoke" aspect of his shop refers to a quaint term that indicates this isn't the place to buy off-the-rack suits. Rather, Leonard, who was Savile Row-trained, prides himself on creating custom-made duds for discriminating men of means. The shop is a dark, somewhat foreboding place and Leonard spends most of his days (and nights) obsessing over his latest masterworks in the back room. His only employee is his Girl Friday (to use an appropriately quaint term) Mabel (Zoey Deutch), a young woman who he takes a paternal interest in looking after. Leonard is affronted by being confused with a tailor and quickly points out that he is a professional cutter, a status that can only be achieved through years of apprenticeships and hard work.When asked if the destruction from the Blitz on London inspired his immigration to America, he quips that it wasn't and that his real enemy was the public's embracing of bluejeans. (It makes for a clever line, though, it's not accurate as bluejeans were certainly not a fashion rage during the 1940s.)

This seemingly unexciting setting is soon revealed to be a bastion of secrets. It seems that Leonard's best customer is a local mob kingpin, Roy (Simon Russell Beale), who has appropriated the shop as a communications hub for the wiseguys in his employ. Throughout the day and night, the gangsters drop off coded messages that are then picked up by other gangsters. In return for this cooperation, Leonard has become the preferred clothier for the nattily-dressed crooks. Two of the more frequent visitors to his shop are among the least welcome: Roy's son Richie (Dylan O'Brien) and his fellow mobster Francis (Johnny Flynn). The two are like brothers and share a penchant for cruelty, as evidenced by the fact that they constantly insult Leonard by not even addressing him by his name, opting instead to call him "English". Leonard keeps his head down and bears the humiliation. What else can he do? These are real-life killers with itchy trigger fingers. In the first of a number of revelations, Leonard learns that Richie is in a romantic relationship with Mabel. He knows she is making a mistake but she can't be dissuaded. Richie is handsome, exciting and has all the appeal of the trademark "bad boy" lover. The less divulged about the plot of a thriller, the better for prospective viewers.  However, a few plot points need to be discussed. At one point during this seemingly endless evening, Francis returns to the shop with a seriously wounded Richie, who has been shot by a rival gang. He can't bring Richie to a hospital for fear of police involvement. Instead, he forces Leonard to remove the bullet and stitch up Richie using his tailoring instruments. It makes for a tense, suspenseful scene. Later, Roy arrives at the shop looking for a major character who has gone missing. What he doesn't know is that the person is dead and is being concealed in a large trunk in the very room. Adding to the drama is the revelation that the F.B.I. has secretly recorded incriminating conversations, which sets everyone off on a frenzied search for the tape before the rival gang obtains it. It makes for some genuine slow-boiling tension.

Until this point, about 2/3 of the way through the film, things have been going swimmingly as director Moore keeps the pace measured and the suspense building- and then...then...in the immortal words of Yeats, "Things fall apart." Revelations are made by so many people in such a frenzied manner that the scenario become unintentionally funny and more appropriate for a "Naked Gun" script. It seems that Moore the screenwriter is intent on undermining Moore the director. There are inexcusable cliches. For example, the script invokes my warning of what I call the "Bear Trap Scenario". This occurs in any film in which a bear trap is shown early in the story in a seemingly innocuous manner only to be used by someone as a weapon later in the story (See "Straw Dogs", "Dead of Winter" and "Skyfall"). In, "The Outfit", much is made about Leonard's affection for his prized pair of cutting shears. "Oh, no", I thought, "It would be too obvious to have them used as an instrument of violence." But, voila! At the film's conclusion they certainly are. Then there's the revelation that there's a "rat" in the gang, which makes everyone understandably paranoid. The finale also finds the introduction of an exotic female crime kingpin known as La Fontaine (Nikki Amuka-Bird), who presides over a Black gang. Although Amuka-Bird's performance is spot-on, the character is more suited for a Bond film than an old world Chicago crime scenario in which most of the characters are reminiscent of a Bogart Warner Brothers production. La Fontaine's presence comes off as a bit of gimmicky casting that undermines the quickly evaporating sense of realism that was apparent in the first 2/3 of the production. Finally, director Moore goes off the hinges by turning the climax into a quasi slasher film, complete with the seemingly immortal antagonist. Squaring off against him, Leonard then makes some startling revelations of his own. Mind you, he does so in the midst of a raging inferno that conveniently seems to stop spreading while he delivers a soliloquy of sorts for dramatic effect.

I can't remember the last time I've seen such a promising film devolve and self-destruct in the manner that "The Outfit" does. It's a pity, too, because Mark Rylance gives a mesmerizing performance and he benefits from a fine supporting cast. To be fair, some reviewers have lavished the film with praise, so judge for yourself. Meanwhile, if you want to see a first-rate underrated crime thriller with the same title, check out the 1974 caper movie "The Outfit" starring Robert Duvall. It's tense, suspenseful and makes sense...and you don't have to fear the "Bear Trap Scenario" angle.

Here is a wonderful documentary about Walter Matthau from The Hollywood Collection:

"Walter Matthau was barely three when his father deserted the family. Subscribe for more Hollywood biographies and stories! http://bit.ly/HollywoodCollectionSub Poverty and New York street smarts produced a self-deprecating humor that never left. The G.I. Bill let him study acting and by 1951 he earned a New York Drama Critics Award. Television dramas followed and then came Hollywood. When director Billy Wilder cast him opposite Jack Lemmon, a classic partnership was created. In Lemmon, Matthau found an enduring friend and frequent co-star. Matthau’s real-life combination of cynicism and gruff sentimentality was reflected in the performances that brought him to major stardom. Two-time Academy Award winner, Matthau’s fifty years of show business have earned him the love of millions and the admiration of fellow professionals. Clips used include: A Face in the Crowd, Charade, The Fortune Cookie, The Odd Couple, Cactus Flower, The Sunshine Boys, Hopscotch, Grumpy Old Men and I’m Not Rappaport. In addition to Walter Matthau himself, on-screen interviewees include actors Jack Lemmon, Julie Harris, Ozzie Davis and Roddy McDowell, directors Herbert Ross, Edward Dmytryk, writer Neil Simon and Walter’s son, director Charles Matthau."

(To watch in full screen mode, click on "Watch on YouTube".)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Here's a bizarre scenario: a group called Tommy McCook and the Supersonics released a track called "Our Man Flint" on  Jamaican labe Treasure Isle, which was owned by Duke Reid, a larger-than-life record producer. Wikipedia describes him thusly:

" He was dressed in a long ermine cloak and a gilt crown on his head, with a pair of Colt 45s in cowboy holsters, a cartridge belt strapped across his chest and a loaded shotgun over his shoulder. It was not uncommon for things to get out of hand and it was said that Duke Reid would bring the crowd under control by firing his shotgun in the air."

Research shows the record was released in 1968. As for this track, aside from McCook, a well-known jazz artist, shouting out "Our Man Flint!" at the beginning of the song, there is no reference to the main theme from the film. In fact, as one YouTube commentator points out, the song on the record is actually "Sway", a lounge hit for Dean Martin. The record label also doesn't list the requisite credits for the composer and songwriter. However, it is a good, funky version of the song. 

By Lee Pfeiffer

Founded by producers James H. Nicholson and Samuel Z. Arkoff, American International Pictures (A.I.P.) hit upon a formula of financing and releasing low-budget exploitation films for non-discriminating audiences (translation: the youth market). Specializing in horror films and goofy comedies, A.I.P. occasionally strayed into other genres. In 1963, the company capitalized on the always-popular WWII genre with the release of "Operation Bikini". Ostensibly, the movie's title referred to the obscure atoll in the Pacific where atomic bomb tests were conducted during the Cold War era. However, in true A.I.P. style, the advertising campaign was designed to imply that the title might also refer to the fact that the bikini bathing suit was popularized here by a French designer who conducted a photo shoot on the atoll just days after an atomic blast. (Ignorant of the risks from radiation poison, he merrily pronounced that "Like the bomb, the bikini is small and devastating!") Still, the sexploitation angle in "Operation Bikini" was saved for late in the film. What precedes its appearance is a fairly routine combat flick made somewhat more interesting by the obvious attempts of the filmmakers to disguise the movie's very limited budget.  

Tab Hunter, one of the top heart throbs of the era, had by this point seen his popularity in decline. He nonetheless received top billing over charismatic crooner Frankie Avalon, whose career was ascending and who would find great popularity as the star of several A.I.P. beach movies over the next few years. Hunter plays Lt. Morgan Hayes, the leader of a secret commando team that has been ordered to rendezvous with a U.S. submarine that has been ordered to transport them on a secret mission. The team is supposed to locate and destroy the wreckage of an American sub that was recently sunk off the coast of Bikini by the Japanese. Seems the wreckage contains a prototype of a top secret sonar device that the Allies can't afford to fall into enemy hands. From minute one, Hayes' small group of rough house land-lubbers rubs the Captain of the submarine, Emmett Carey (Scott Brady) and his crew the wrong way. Hayes's men resent being cooped up in a floating "tin can" and the naval crew resents the presence of these brash soldiers who seem to be perpetually eager to provoke a fight. Carey gives Hayes a dressing down about keeping the tension levels low and the two men ultimately gain mutual respect for one another. Upon arriving at Bikini, Hayes and his men must sneak ashore and traverse the dense jungle in search of the area where the sunken submarine is located. They are guided by local partisans who conveniently include a stunning beauty named Reiko, played by Eva Six, a recent winner of the "Miss Golden Globes" honor. (I will refrain from making any tasteless jokes.) Reiko takes a shine to Hayes and gets his mind temporarily off his troubles by seducing him. When Hayes and his men finally arrive at their destination, they are dismayed to see a virtual fleet of Japanese vessels guarding the coast line where the sub is already being salvaged by the enemy. Hayes realizes that they are now probably on a suicide mission. Nevertheless, they persevere courageously, dodging and sometimes engaging Japanese patrols before sending in Hayes and some fellow scuba divers to attach time bombs to the hull of the sunken sub. (The sequence is rather absurd because the team accomplishes this in the dead of night despite not being able to employ any lighting equipment whatsoever.) Detected by the Japanese, Hayes and his heroes take some casualties in their desperate attempt to make it back to Capt. Carey's submarine.

"Operation Bikini" is a "by the numbers" WWII yarn that isn't noticeably better or worse than many of the other "B" movies of this genre that were released in the 1960s. Director Anthony Carras, who edited some of the better Poe adaptations for producer Roger Corman, employs grainy stock footage of real combat sequences to get around his limited budget. However, there are a couple of sequences that are unintentionally amusing in which we find the crew of the submarine standing on deck, supposedly in the middle of the ocean. The scenes are clearly filmed on a sound stage because there is absolutely no movement of the vessel at all. Apparently the budget didn't even allow for a few crew members to gently "rock" the vessel. Additionally, the backdrop consists of either a white or black wall with nary a hint of nature evident. Hunter looks sullen and dreary throughout the entire proceedings, even when stripping off his shirt for the love scene. The supporting cast includes some offspring of Hollywood legends: Jody McCrea (son of Joel) and Gary Crosby (son of "Der Bingle").  Michael Dante is the executive officer of the sub and in a rather offbeat bit of casting, Jim Backus is seen in a dramatic role as a member of the demolition team. Hunter's fellow teen idol  Frankie Avalon is cast in his usual role as wise-cracking street guy. In the film's most bizarre sequences, he drools over a photo of the prim and proper girl he left behind. while singing an awful love song about trying not to be tempted by the "bad girls" he meets while on duty away from home. Although the film is in black and white, these fantasy sequences are shot in color. The "good girl" is shown lovingly waiting for him while dressed like somebody's great grandmother and is presented in B&W. Meanwhile, the leggy temptress is seen in full color,  attired in a slinky cocktail dress and gyrating her hips suggestively. The virginal good girl gets the short end of the stick. These weird sequences are an amusing example of how A.I.P. used an "everything but the kitchen" sink formula to appeal to young audiences, regardless of the lack of logic. The formula is employed in the film's equally bizarre epilogue which extols the fact that the bikini bathing suit is closely associated with Bikini. We observe a several minute sequence (also shot in color) in which two young women lounge around the beach in skimpy swim attire for no apparent reason than to stimulate the already raging hormones of the movie's intended male teenage audience.

(The film is currently available for streaming through ScreenPix, which is available to Amazon Prime subscribers for an additional fee every month.) 

CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE DVD FROM THE CINEMA RETRO MOVIE STORE

Here's an original production featurette from the 70's kid's classic "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" that concentrates on Art Director Harper Goff's incredible creations. 

The Gentofte International Film Festival will take place on 26-28 January near Copehagen. The films to be screened in 70mm are:

• "Where Eagles Dare"
• "Out of Africa"
• "The Abyss"
• "The Sheltering Sky"

Actor and singer David Soul has passed away at age 80. Soul had a long career. The Chicago native got his first big break with a co-starring role in the TV sitcom "Here Come the Brides", which was inspired by "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers". His supporting role opposite Clint Eastwood in the 1973 Dirty Harry film "Magnum Force" led to him co-starring with Paul Michael Glaser in the iconic 1970s TV series "Starsky and Hutch" with the two actors portraying hip, wise-cracking and rule-breaking detectives. In 1977, Soul, who was also an accomplished singer, had a #1 hit with "Don't Give Up On Us, Baby". He would record five albums. In the 1990s, he moved to England, where he enjoyed success on stage and screen. For more, click here.

By Hank Reineke

I much prefer writing about obscure or little-known items of celluloid than attempt to tackle a bona fide film classic as The Quatermass Xperiment.  The best chroniclers and historians of science-fiction and horror film history have proven to be a distinguished, thoroughly immersive, and informed band of researchers, commentators and authors.  Which, sadly, leaves also-rans such as myself little insight to add to what discourse exists already.  But in the rare event that someone who reads Cinema Retro is unfamiliar with Val Guest’s classic of British sci-fi, I’ll press on and attempt at a simple synopsis of The Quatermass Xperiment:

The nose end of an intact rocket ship crash lands in an open misty field deep in the English countryside.  Within minutes, police, fire vehicles, ambulances and curious locals gather to view the wreckage.  Among those taking command at the scene is the irascible and cocksure Professor Quatermass, barking orders that override even those of the assemblage of police and military officials.  Quatermass, we soon learn, was the primary architect of this wrecked three-crew space mission.  We also learn via the protest of an upset official from the Ministry of Defence, that Quatermass’s interstellar space voyage was unsanctioned by the British government.

Only one of the three astronauts originally launched, Victor Carroon, has seemingly survived this orbital freefall. Truth be told, it’s hard for scientists to determine conclusively.  Two of the astronaut’s spacesuits are still aboard the craft, but now curiously empty of their occupants.  Carroon is unable to explain what went on prior to the spacecraft’s unceremonious crash to earth.  Carroon has returned in a near-catatonic state.  He’s unable to speak… save for a desperate, mumbled plea asking his rescuers to “Help Me.”  Unfortunately for all involved, they are mostly unable to.

To make matters more peculiar, upon close examination it becomes unclear to his caregivers if Carroon actually is Carroon.  The fingerprints taken upon his return do not match that of the pre-flight astronaut.  One doctor suggests the prints examined are not “even human” in form.  It’s determined that whomever this “shell of a man” is, he’s being slowly transformed into something decidedly non-human.   

As one might expect, this faux-Carroon manages to escape from his hospital quarantine.  He roams the streets and riverbanks of London and surrounding areas, searching for food and scaring locals in the process.  Quatermass, the police, and the military are in pursuit, helpfully assisted by Carroon’s continual shedding of human-form to something more gelatinous.  As the ill-fated astronaut continues to devolve, he conveniently leaves behind a luminous path of radioactive waste in his wake for his pursuers to follow in trail.  The film climaxes with a climactic showdown between earthlings and alien in the hallowed chamber of Winchester Cathedral.     

The Hollywood Reporter was among the first of the trade papers in the U.S. to confirm that production of The Quatermass Xperiment was to commence in October of 1954.  (Technically speaking, the earliest reports first offered details under the film’s working title of Shock!) It was announced that Val Guest would direct the extravaganza, a film soon to be trumpeted as “The Most Fantastic Story Ever Told!” Hammer Films’ Michael Carreras and Anthony Hinds would produce, with the picture’s U.K. distribution to be handled by London’s Exclusive Films.  The screenplay of Shock! – based on the characters created by writer Nigel Keane for the Quatermass BBC television series of 1953 - was reported as a collaboration of veteran screenwriter Richard Landau and Guest.

Bringing Quatermass to the big screen seemed a sure bet.  The earlier BBC series had proven wildly popular, millions of UK viewers tuning into their parlor sets to watch the extra-terrestrial exploits of the Professor.  In a 1973 interview with Chris Knight (later published in the June 2018 issue of Richard Klemensen’s seminal Little Shoppe of Horrors magazine) Rudolph Cartier, the producer-director of the original BBC television series gave the lion share of credit to Kneale’s brilliantly conceived scenarios.   

Cartier thought Kneale’s cliffhanger scripting was the deciding factor in the success of the television series.  The producer was equally impressed by Kneale’s ability to write the natural dialogue of “real people,” which exhibited an unerring “ability to play on the underlying fears of the human soul.”  In that very same issue of LSOH, director John Carpenter – no slouch in creating totemic horror and sci-fi films himself – equally acknowledged Guest’s big screen version of The Quatermass Xperiment as “horrifyingly groundbreaking.” Carpenter thought the film version offered well-executed and thoughtful explorations of “the fear of the unknown.”   

On one of the supplements included on this release from Kino Lorber, Carpenter on Quatermass: On Camera Interview with Legendary Director John Carpenter,” the auteur recalls catching The Quatermass Xperiment (under its U.S. release title of The Creeping Unknown) as a youngster in Kentucky.  He thought the film both “profound” and mind-blowing, arriving timely on the heels of a world post-atom bomb and on the cusp of American and Soviet interest in space exploration.  Carpenter was of the opinion The Quatermass Xperiment was the “first powerful gift” of Hammer Films’ fright factory.    

Perhaps. But in 1955 the original creators of the television series didn’t share that rosy view.  Cartier acknowledged that Kneale was particularly unhappy with Hammer’s adaptation of his work.  So much so that the scenarist even cautioned Cartier “not to go” to the cinema to visit the film upon release. Kneale might have been – perhaps understandably - over-protective of his personal vision, but he was not alone in his assessment.  Upon the film’s release, one London-based critic mused while the first Hammer Quatermass film certainly offered cinemagoers the “full horror comic treatment,” he thought “Some of the TV Tension” of the original BBC series was “lost in this film’s extravagant chiller gimmicks.”   

Today only aged folks with long memories can say whether Kneale’s The Quatermass Experiment series was greater than Hammer’s The Quatermass Xperiment (with an “X”). Sadly, only two of the original six-episode summer of 1953 BBC broadcast are extant, so comparisons aren’t possible.  Oh, but about that “Experiment” versus “Xperiment…”

Guest was aware his picture would likely be given an “X” certificate designation – no child under the age of sixteen admitted into the cinema due to alleged “explicit” content.  Such branding was not unexpected given the temperature of the times.  Guest had previously submitted a sample copy of the script to a censor at the British Board of Film Classification who, upon reading, advised as such.  But Guest chose to press on regardless of losing an important audience demographic.  “Some people thought we were mad to go ahead, but I had faith in it,” he offered to Picturegoer.  One BBC feature writer suggested the prominent “X” in the film’s “Xperiment” title was purposeful, Hammer Film’s sly rebuke of the picture’s undeserved “X” classification.     

Upon the film’s release, it appeared Guest’s gambit had paid off.  London’s Picturegoer was particularly enthused with The Quatermass Xperiment, enthusing that a British studio had - at last - managed a production, “to make Hollywood’s Frankenstein’s and Dracula’s curl up in their crypts.”  That might have been so, but Guest nonetheless cautioned the film not be preemptively tagged as a run-of-the-mill “horror” movie.  Such designation brought with it expectations.  “We didn’t really set out to make that kind of film, you know,” Guest corrected.  “I’d prefer it if you call the film a ‘chiller.’”   

Picturegoer noted there were plans to release the film in U.S. markets under its provisional title of Shock!  But that re-title wouldn’t happen.  In March of 1956, Variety reported that Robert Lippert of United Artists had paid a flat fee of $125,000: he believed this “thriller-type film” held “potential value” in the U.S. market.  The brief item also noted the film’s U.S. domestic release title change would be The Creeping Unknown.  Upon its U.S. release - and following its scoring of “fancy” box-office returns for United Artists - a Variety critic acknowledged, The Creeping Unknown (“a gelatinous octopus-like mass that absorbs all plant and animal life that it touches”) was a “competently made drama, containing sufficient suspense and frightening elements.”

The film’s success in the U.S. was not assured.  As neither Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass BBC serial – nor the Professor Bernard Quatermass character – were generally on the radar of American couch-sitters, United Artists retitling The Quatermass Xperiment under the far more provocatively sinister and exploitative name of The Creeping Unknown made sense.  (On a special feature included here that compares the differences between the U.K. and U.S. cuts of the film - the latter running approximately two and-a-half minutes shorter - it’s noted that a surviving continuity script titled the film in pre-release as Monster from Outer Space).

The Creeping Unknown was paired in the U.S. as the undercard of a ballyhoo “Double Horror Show! of “Two Terrific Horror Pictures!” (of which Reginald LeBorg’s The Black Sleep (1956) would top-line).  The LeBorg film, while no venerable classic, was certainly the more marketable of the two – at least in the U.S.  The cast of The Quatermass Xperiment were peopled with faces mostly unfamiliar to U.S. moviegoers. In contrast, The Black Sleep offered an illustrious cast of familiar and beloved genre actors: Basil Rathbone, Lon Chaney Jr., Bela Lugosi, John Carradine and Tor Johnson amongst them.

United Artists certainly wasn’t about to gamble on its investment in this British undercard.  Under the title banner of The Creeping Unknown, the U.S. marketing department was tasked to play up the film’s more exploitative angles.  The art department conjured up a garish one-sheet poster featuring a crashed rocket ship and gigantic demonic creature hovering above the heads of a terrified, fleeing populace. The poster’s caption read: “You Can’t Escape It!  Nothing Can Destroy It! It’s Coming for You from Space to Wipe all Living Things from the Face of the Earth!  Can it Be Stopped?”

It was a prudent time for United Artists to release the film in the U.S. as the 1950s “Silver Age” of cinematic science-fiction in full bloom.  In 1956 alone, theater cash boxes were stuffed with receipts from such pictures as Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, Forbidden Planet, Godzilla, King of the Monsters, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, It Conquered the World, The Creature Walks Among Us, The Mole People, and World Without End – and that’s to name only a few.  Interest in sci-fi would continue to blossom and explode throughout the 1950s, with 1957 and 1958 being particularly banner years for the genre.  

According to the film’s U.S. pressbook, director Val Guest had helmed no fewer than seven motion pictures in a twelve-month span, The Creeping Unknown being the seventh.  Guest had been, all things considered, an odd choice to be asked to direct.  Guest admitted he was a mostly disinterested observer of science fiction of any sort.  So he expressed surprise when producer Anthony Hinds had approached him to helm the film.  Most of the films Guest had previously directed - and was best known for - were straight-on comedies.  Since Guest admitted honestly to having not watched the wildly popular BBC series, Hinds pressed copies of Kneale’s original tele-scripts to help familiarize him with the material.  On holiday with his wife in Tangiers, Guest – at first, reluctantly - began to read through the scripts.  He would acknowledge Kneale’s storytelling left him “pinned to his deckchair.”    

There was certainly interest that Hammer test the viability of The Quatermass Xperiment/The Creeping Unknown playing overseas.  There was one major hurdle.  Should the film employ only or primarily a British cast, the main players would be practically unknown to U.S. moviegoers.  Guest noted it was mostly at the insistence of the American distributor that an actor of some marquee standing in the U.S. be given the lead role.  So the producers brought in the American actor Brian Donlevy to play Professor Quatermass.  

Donlevy was well known to American film audiences.  The actor had worked regularly and steadily in Hollywood, more often than not in rough-and-tumble tough-guy roles: prize-fighters to cowboys to soldiers to film noir detectives.  But certainly not as an egg-head scientist.  (As a completely irrelevant aside – but a fun fact all the same - Donlevy would later wed the widow of Bela Lugosi).  The casting of Donlevy was the only major talent concession.  Most folks cast were familiar faces of past Guest productions, the director preferring to work alongside the dependable professionals of his own repertory company.  

Both Carpenter and Guest suggest that Kneale was particularly unhappy with the casting of a brash, somewhat tactless Yank as Quatermass.  Kneale’s Quatermass was, in Guest’s reading, “a very English, Professor-like character,” a model of British gentility.  Donlevy exhibited none of these qualities, but Guest welcomed bringing the actor’s tough-guy persona to the fore – even if that meant partly re-creating the character as envisioned by the dissatisfied Kneale.  Carpenter too recalled Kneale’s obvious displeasure in the Donlevy casting, but personally found the actor’s performance as suitable.  Having worked with the scenarist on two projects (an ultimately unmade remake of The Creature from the Black Lagoon and on Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982, for which the writer’s contribution was uncredited), Carpenter reminisced that Kneale - while certainly talented - was a “handful” to work with.  

In any event, the film was a success.  By spring of 1956, Donlevy was already back in London to work on a second Quatermass film, X the Unknown (also co-written and directed by Guest).  As this follow-up would cost $140,000 to produce (a 60% increase over the more economically-budgeted The Quatermass Xperiment), Exclusive Films, the United Kingdom distributor,  entered into a partnership with United Artists – the latter agreeing to put up 75% of that cost for a 50/50 box office share.  

In some manner of speaking, the American had been upstaged in the first film.  Donlevy’s co-star Richard Wordsworth was mostly unknown to U.S. moviegoers, the actor having only recently graduated from stage to television to film acting.  Indeed, The Quatermass Xperiment would log as his first big-screen credit.  His performance as the alien-infected mute Victor Carroon received good notices: quite a feat considering his character spoke nary a line of dialogue.  In many respects, Wordsworth steals the show, delivering a frightening, tortured portrait of the empty-shell astronaut.  Guest thought Wordsworth “brilliantly” acted the part, relying solely on the conveyance of haunted facial expressions and gentle physical movements to emote.    

Kino Lorber has premiered its Kino Lorber Film Collection streaming service, available through Amazon Prime for an additional $5.99 per month. Click here for details.

Here's a blast from the past: an assortment of American movie T.V. spots from the 1970s, with a few from the late 1960s included.

By Lee Pfeiffer

No one has ever clamored for a remake of director Howard Hawks' "Red River". The 1948 film is routinely considered to be one of the great American westerns, although Hawks was never completely satisfied with the end result. Between changes he made to the film and some changes imposed by the studio, the result was that film scholars are still debating which version should be considered as the final cut.  However, the film's impact is indisputable. It afforded John Wayne the best role of his career up to that time and elevated up-and-coming Montgomery Clift to major stardom. I must admit that I was surprised to learn of a 1988 television remake of the film when I saw it is now streaming on ScreenPix, an optional subscription channel, which is available for a nominal monthly fee to Amazon Prime subscribers. It would take a big man to step into Duke Wayne's shoes but James Arness filled the bill. In fact, Wayne was a mentor to Arness and made several films with him before he convinced the young actor to accept CBS's offer to star as Marshall Matt Dillon in the TV series "Gunsmoke", an adaptation of the popular radio program. Arness plays Thomas Dunson, who was on a wagon train to Texas along his fiancee. Dunson and his sidekick Groot (Ray Walston in a role originally played by Walter Brennan), leave the wagon train to scout for appropriate land to settle on. While they are away, the wagon train is attacked by Indians. The begins with Dunson and Groot discovering that all of the pioneers have been killed except for a young boy, Matt Garth (Mickey Kuhn), who Dunson unofficially adopts as a son. The gesture proves to be mutually beneficial, as it helps both grief-stricken people cope with their losses. Ultimately, the headstrong Dunson finds the perfect land to claim for his own and it stretches as far as the eye can see. The film then jumps ahead a number of years. Dunson's spread, known as the Red River D, has been a major success and he is getting ready to move his enormous herd to Sedalia, Missouri to sell the steers for a considerable profit. He is heartened by the return of Matt (now played by Bruce Boxleitner), who has been away fighting with Southern forces in the Civil War. With Matt and Groot as his trusted right-hand men, Dunson assembles a major company of experienced drovers for the perilous journey that lies ahead. 

As with Hawks' version of "Red River", the TV production chronicles the increased hardships the cattlemen endure and the slow breakdown in morale as food supplies become skimpy and the dangers increase from inclement weather and the threat of hostile Indians. Dunson rules the company with an iron fist and tells the men that he is financially broke, as he's put all of his money into the cattle drive. He reminds them that the only way they will get paid is if they get the herd to Sedalia, where it can be sold. Some cowhands encounter the drovers and say there is a rumor that the rail line has now reach Abilene, Kansas. If true, it will make for a lucrative market to sell the cattle in order to feed the booming population. It's also a shorter and safer journey for the drovers to make. However, Dunson will have not risk changing direction on the basis of an unfounded rumor. Ultimately, some men choose to leave the drive. However, when a couple of drovers also steal some precious food before absconding, Dunson has them hunted down and captured. Enraged, he tells them he will lynch them. When Matt can't convince him that he is going to far, a major rift occurs and Matt informs Dunson that he is taking control of the herd and gambling on taking the cattle to Abilene. Dunson refuses to go along and promises to hunt Matt down and personally kill him, despite the fact that Matt intends to turn any proceeds over to his adoptive father. 

The story continues to follow events in the film, albeit in truncated fashion since the film runs 96 minutes compared to the 133 minutes of the original version. Matt and flashy gunslinger Cherry Valance (Gregory Harrison) encounter a wagon train besieged by Indians. They ultimately rescue the survivors which include Kate Millay (Laura Johnson), a Civil War widow with a young son. Both Matt and Cherry are smitten by her, which introduces an element of sexual tension as both men become antagonistic towards each other in increasingly dangerous ways. Ultimately, Matt gets the herd to Abilene and finds that the rumors were true. The town is booming and anxious to buy the herd for top dollar. Matt's joy is short-lived, however, as Dunson arrives with his personal posse of hired gunmen- and he's intent on keeping his vow to kill Matt.

There is nothing in the TV version of "Red River" that improves on Hawks's original in any meaningful way. However, it does offer some fine performances. It's interesting to see Arness, who gives a commanding performance, finally play a character whose judgment is flawed and whose actions border on the reckless. He has good chemistry with Bruce Boxleitner, possibly because the two were old friends who had co-starred in Arness's post-"Gunsmoke" TV series "How the West Was Won". Gregory Harrison has a meatier role as Cherry Valance than John Ireland did in the original version, possibly because Harrison was an executive producer on this production. He provides ample doses of both charm and reckless behavior. There are plenty of familiar Western stars who make brief appearances including Ty Hardin, Robert Horton, L.Q. Jones and Guy Madison, in his final screen appearance. The script has been updated with some new characters added, most notably Stan Shaw, very good as Jack Byrd, an ex-slave who must endure bigotry before winning the respect of the drovers with his skills. The film is crisply directed by Richard Michaels, who keeps the balance between action and personal dramas well-balanced.

I viewed the film with the expectation that it would be simply a pale imitation of the 1948 classic. However, while the original reigns supreme, I'm happy to say that if the TV version is viewed as a stand-alone production, it's actually surprisingly good.

I can find no record of this film having been released on home video aside from an early VHS version, so the Screenpix option is the best way to view it.

Cinema Retro wishes our readers worldwide the happiest new year ever!

Australian video label Imprint has released a Blu-ray boxed set dedicated to the films of Sidney Lumet. The movies included are:

• Serpico
• The Group
• The Pawnbroker
• The Deadly Affair
• The Offence
  
• Child's Play
  

By Hank Reineke

As a monster-movie loving kid growing up in the shadow of Manhattan, most of my Saturday night plans in the late 1960s and early 1970s were solidly set. That night was reserved for watching old horror and sci-fi flicks on New York City’s Chiller (WPIX-TV) or Creature Features (WNEW-TV). I don’t recall the latter program surviving past 1980 – and even then there had been an interruption of some six years in the scheduling of Creature Features. Though the program would return to the airwaves in 1979, the 8 PM broadcasts were now a thing of the past. The revived telecasts had moved to midnight and well into the early hours of Sunday morning. It hardly mattered, really. I no longer watched Creature Features with the same fervor of 1969 through 1973. I was age nineteen in 1979 and found other (if not necessarily better) things to do on Saturday nights.

This absence from Creature Features caused me to miss out on a number of obscure, aging films broadcast 1979-1980. Among this mix of occasional cinematic gems with near-misses was a mostly forgotten mystery programmer of 1944 titled The Man in Half Moon Street. I was particularly sorry to have missed this one: if my research is correct, I believe the film was broadcast only once – just shy of 2 A.M. - on March 29, 1980. Though one New York area newspaper listing dismissed the film as little more than a “Moody and marginally interesting tale of eternal youth through murder,” such lukewarm praise actually piqued my interest. This seemed my kind of movie. And for some forty-three years I’ve lamented having missing that broadcast.

It has been a tough film to get ahold of: though I’m guessing gray-market copies could have been found at conventions or through those “specialty” dealers of vintage VHS tapes from the ‘80s onward. But as far as I can tell (and, please, feel free correct me if you know better), The Man in Half Moon Street has never been officially available on any home video format: not Laser Disc, VHS, DVD or Blu Ray. Well, that is until now, as we near the eightieth year of the film’s original cinematic release. We have Australia’s Imprint Films to thank for finally issuing this superlative, region-free coded Blu-ray release.

As in the case of many Hollywood pictures of the day, The Man in Half Moon Street was not an original invention of the filmmakers: the scenario was actually based on the British stage drama of playwright Barré Lyndon. Lyndon’s play, published in 1939 by London’s Hamish Hamilton Publishing House, had first toured Bournemouth, Oxford, Manchester and Brighton on a two-week testing-sortie in February of ’39. The play would formally open at the New Theatre in London’s West End on 22 March 1939.

Lyndon’s main antagonist in the stage drama, chemist John Thackeray (Leslie Banks), is a ninety-year old man. One wouldn’t notice the dotage as Thackeray appears decades younger. This is due to the chemist having discovered that by combining radium and periodically replacing his aging super-renal glands with fresh specimens he can retain both youth and immortality. Of course the collection of fresh glands requires innocent others to lose their lives to Thackeray’s ghoulish harvesting.

Over a fifty-year period eight bank cashiers – those with access to large sums of money - have fallen prey to Thackeray’s criminal doings. Dissolving their bodies in acid baths, the chemist then steals the cash reserves his victims had been minding in their bank-telling guardianship. Thackeray requires the large sums so he can pay a confidant: in this case an ethically-challenged surgeon friend, to perform the necessary life-sustaining gland grafts. But Scotland Yard takes up the case just as the chemist readies to take the life of a targeted ninth victim for his evil ends.

Interestingly, playwright Lyndon would go on to write screenplays for Hollywood studios by the mid-1940s, including such moody mystery-noirs as John Brahm’s The Lodger (1944) and Hangover Square (1945). But in late January of 1940, it was announced that Don Hartman, a dependable scenarist for Paramount, was scheduled to begin work on adapting Lyndon’s stage play to the big screen. Hartman was, at present, in New York, trying to finish up his co-write (with Clifford Goldsmith) of The Further Adventures of Henry Aldrich.

That May of 1940, Paramount optimistically announced there would be no production delays on their twenty-five million dollar film schedule budget for the upcoming year. This declaration was made “despite war conditions in Europe which continue to threaten returns” in both national and international film markets. One of the films on the Paramount schedule was The Man in Half Moon Street. Early reports suggested that Basil Rathbone was to take on the leading role. The actor was available to assume the role of Thackeray as he had only recently completed work on Paramount’s A Date with Destiny (soon retitled The Mad Doctor).

Rathbone had played the villainous role in The Mad Doctor which, despite the intriguing title, was not a horror film, but a mystery crime-drama. The Los Angeles Citizen-News would report in June of 1940 that while Half Moon too was not of “bogeyman classification,” it on the “fantastic side” with its lurid sci-fi angle. In any case, the film project fell temporarily to the wayside, first due to scripting issues and afterward to the cranking out of patriotic films necessitated by America’s entry into WWII following the attack at Pearl Harbor.

But by early winter of 1943, the long dormant Half Moon project was showing signs of revival. On March 2, 1943 it was announced in the Hollywood trades that Lester Fuller, recently arrived in Los Angeles from New York, had been offered the director’s chair for The Man in Half Moon Street. In spring of 1943, Albert Dekker, a Hollywood “heavie” who recently scared audiences as Universal’s Dr. Cyclops (1940), was announced to assume the leading role.

But on June 15, 1943, Variety reported that Fuller was out of the Half Moon project. Ralph Murphy was now chosen to direct. Technically, the pair’s previously assigned directorial spots were merely traded-off. Murphy had initially been chosen to helm Paramount’s production of Marseilles, but former stage director Fuller was now tasked to assume responsibility on that particular film. Murphy was to move over to direct Fuller’s Half Moon project.

Murphy’s first assignment was a formidable one: he was “to order a complete rewrite job on the script.” There was also a report that such rewriting would likely require a recasting of principal characters. Though Swedish film star Nils Asther had been the latest actor announced to assume the film’s leading role, his participation in the project was now suggested as being “off” - for the time being, at least. The film’s producer Walter MacEwan wanted to weigh casting options “until further developments” in the scripting of Half Moon were resolved.

The re-writing of Half Moon would eventually fall to scenarists Charles Kenyon and Garrett Fort. The final screenplay credit would ultimately go to Kenyon alone who, like Fort, was a veteran of old Hollywood: their work in the industry could be traced to silent cinema’s earliest days. Fort’s resume for this sort of film was particularly impressive: he had written or co-written such totemic pre-code Golden Age Horrors for Universal as Dracula (1931), Frankenstein (1931) and Dracula’s Daughter (1936). But Fort’s credit on Half Moon only noted his role in adapting Lyndon’s play for the screen.

The final screenplay drafted would, peculiarly, expunge most of the ghoulish and murderous elements of Lyndon’s stage play – perhaps America’s real-life wartime experiences were horrific enough. There are no murders of bankers. The Thackeray character (renamed Dr. Julian Karell in the film) appears to be already a man of means, an accomplished portrait artist and scientist. He attends black-tie, high society, posh parties and conducts his experiments at an upscale London row house. The film curiously offers no scenes of on (or off) screen physical violence.

There are no gruesome acid baths in which the bodies of victims are disposed. The film’s lone “action” scene captures a moment when Karell “rescues” a despondent medical student (Morton Lowry) from a watery suicide attempt near the Thames Embankment. Most scenes of this dialogue-heavy script are set in parlors and sitting rooms – which, to be honest, really proves a drag on the film’s ninety-two minute running time. One begins to welcome even the briefest scenes when Karell ventures out into the shrouded night and pea-soup fog of the London Streets. Not that much happens during these interludes, but such moments provide a measure of moodiness to this otherwise slowly paced non-mystery.

Truth be told, The Man in Half Moon Street is no detective nor mystery film; we know almost from the beginning what’s going on. We learn the handsome and youthful Karell is actually more than one hundred years old in age. But through a century of experimentation – and with the assistance of the aging Dr. Kurt Van Bruecken, the “world’s greatest living surgeon and necrologist” (Reinhold Schünzel), Karell has managed to stay young through his drinking of a luminous serum and periodically undergoing fresh glandular transplants at ten year intervals.

There are problems ahead. Following a stroke, the shaky hands of the elderly Van Bruecken are no longer trustworthy to perform the necessary surgeries. Besides, Van Bruecken has undergone a change of heart: he fears that Karell is no longer working in the interest of science and humanity in staving off the aging process. He fears (rightfully) Karell is now consumed only by his burning desire for the lovely Eve Brandon (Helen Walker) and selfish self-interest in maintaining a “fraudulent youth.”

“No man can break the law of God,” Van Bruecken cautions, but Karell is confident if anyone can do it, he can. Even if that means farming the glands of the suicidal medical student he’s imprisoned upstairs. The other more pressing problem facing Karell is that his mysterious activities have finally brought him to the attention of an ethical surgeon (Paul Cavanagh), a cabal of fine art appraisers and Scotland Yard.

With Paramount now holding what they believed an acceptable – and mostly non-horrific - script in place, the casting of the film proceeded in earnest. In May of 1943 it was suggested that young actress Susan Hayward would play a “featured role” in Half Moon, though the report cautioned Paramount was still “having a time of it procuring someone to play the sinister male lead.” The earlier front-running names of Rathbone and Dekker were both out, and rumors of Alan Ladd’s casting were squelched when the actor chose instead to sign up for military service.

That same month producer MacEwan confirmed Nils Asther would in fact play the role of Dr. Julian Karell as earlier rumored. The trades suggested that it was Asther who, in fact, first suggested that Paramount pick up the rights to Lyndon’s play and cast him in the lead role. There was some mild press controversy regarding Asther’s casting. Some Hollywood gossips dismissed the actor as “Yesterday’s Star” (born in 1897, Asther had appeared in silent films with Greta Garbo). Though his character was scripted as someone thirty-five years of age, Asther was in reality 46 years old at the time of production. Still, there was an acknowledgement that the dashingly tall, slender, handsome (and rumored bi-sexual) actor “still has a big following.”

Though the actor was to star opposite the sultry Hayward, the role of Karell’s paramour Eve Brandon was ultimately given to Helen Walker. There would be some delay before she could join the production: the actress, currently on a wartime U.S.O. tour, was expected to report to the set near September’s end. Truthfully, Walker doesn’t have a lot to do in the film. She certainly photographs well as Karell’s doting and perhaps too protective and morally-blind girlfriend. Even though Karell’s work is secretive – so much so that it causes him to disappear for weeks or months at a time – Eve chooses to accept her lover’s “general mysteriousness” as a byproduct of his genius. I personally found Brandon less likable and sympathetic as the film progresses. When it’s finally revealed to her that Karell’s experimentations have brought harm to innocents, she’s so in love with him she dismisses his guilt, choosing instead to reflexively defend the “grandeur” of his ambitions.

If the main characters in this picture aren’t always likable, there’s still a lot to admire about the film. Miklos Rozsa’s moody musical score is certainly worthy of praise. Henry Sharp’s fog-bound “exterior” photography is similarly moody, but unfortunately not up on the screen much. In the final minutes of the film when Karell dramatically reverts to his actual age, long-time make-up man Wally Westmore – of Hollywood’s make-up family dynasty – does his best on the effects. But the camera cheats the audience of a full on-screen transformation ala Westmore’s make-up on Rouben Mamoulian’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) – which remains the “gold standard” of Golden Age horror transformations. Ralph Murphy’s direction is competent but workmanlike in execution. He creates very little visual tension until the film’s final scenes and, by then, it’s simply too late. Following the completion of Half Moon, Murphy was planning to move back to New York City to direct the Broadway stage production of Sleep It Off.

Of course World War II was still on-going, interrupting, ruining and/or ending the lives of countless innocents globally. In such an atmosphere Hollywood was not immune to war-time production delays and release date restrictions. Paramount alone had accumulated an unprecedented backlog of thirty-one completed films awaiting release in early summer of 1944. There was some confidence that the tide was turning in favor of the Allies, studios cooperating in the war effort by rolling out whatever patriotic war films they were sitting on. There was a consensus it was time to empty the vault of such films. It was believed that movie audiences would weary of war films following the cessation of fighting overseas.

There was, at long last, a belated screening of The Man in Half Moon Street held at a Hollywood tradeshow on October 16, 1944. Variety thought the script was a “compact and interesting,” the Kenyon/Fort scenario displaying a “few new twists from the formularized style of long-life mystery tales to keep interest at consistent level.” But the reviewer acknowledged, not unreasonably, that the film would best serve as “strong support” to a superior attraction. Other critics likewise suggested Half Moon was too weak to see top-billing on a double-attraction.

Indeed, The Man in Half Moon Street (already in U.S. regional release as early as December 1944 although the film’s copyright is listed as 1945 on the sleeve of the snap case) was featured as the undercard of a double-bill. (On his commentary, Tim Lucas reveals the film actually had its world-wide premiere in Australia in early November of 1944). On its U.S. run, the film was usually topped by director Fritz Lang’s cinematic take of novelist Graham Greene’s Nazi espionage tale Ministry of Fear. This double feature actually did reasonably well, the trades citing solid - if not necessarily boffo - returns as the package was rolled out across U.S. markets and into 1945. Newspaper columnists tended to give the Lang film the lion’s share of its critical attention, though both films were generally branded as little more than decent programmers of primary interest only to devotees of suspense and mystery films.

By Hank Reineke

I wouldn’t have fared well in Puritan America of 1642. A title overlay inscription on the front end of Robert G. Vignola’s The Scarlet Letter (1934) offers, “Though to us, the customs seem grim and the punishments hard, they were necessary in the formation of the U.S. destiny.” With the benefit of hindsight, I might argue this opinion otherwise, but it is what it is… or, rather, was what it was. Puritan America seemed a bit too inhospitable to my taste: everybody at one time or another was being publically humiliated or punished for terribly mild transgressions.

In 1642 you could find yourself in the stock for laughing on the Sabbath, or publically gagged and propped for gossiping, or aggressively poked with a long stick if caught dozing off during a long and ponderous sermon. And that’s not to mention having the Towne Crier ordering you to extinguish your lights for a pre-ordained bedtime set by the whims of a council of elders. Of course all of this, I suppose, is all still far preferable to being trussed to a pole and stoned by your “righteous” and “pious” neighbors for accusations of adultery and other crimes.

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel of 1850, The Scarlet Letter, is widely regarded as a masterwork of early American literature. The novel’s storyline is set in Puritan American of 1642, beleaguered seamstress Hester Prynne forced to wear a scarlet “A” on her clothing, a mark identifying her as an adulteress. With her physician husband missing from the village for two years and presumed lost at sea, Prynne gives out-of-wedlock birth to a daughter, Pearl. Though castigated and ostracized by the community, Prynne refuses to name the father of the child, thereby preserving his unsoiled reputation. Despite the travails, Prynne manages to live her life with a sense of dignity and compassion – and a measure of moral clarity not exemplified by the religious zealots who continue to harass and condemn both mother and child.

There had been several film adaptations of The Scarlet Letter, preceding this 1934 effort directed by Vignola, though all previous were released as silents. The first adaptation was a 1908 adaptation directed by Sydney Olcott, a film short now presumed lost. Interestingly, Olcott was still alive and kicking when the Vignola film went into production. In June of 1934, the Los Angeles Post-Record reported, “One visitor to the set was Sydney Olcott who directed the one-reel 1908 version of The Scarlet Letter in one day. Olcott was still proud of his effort, telling actor Henry B. Walthall, “We didn’t do so bad in 1908, Henry. We didn’t have cranes, microphones and we didn’t use big crowds. We had a solitary cameraman and he helped with the props […] Them was the days.”

Olcott’s film may have been the first cinematic adaptation, but certainly not last. Between 1911 and 1926, the film was re-made as at least on five occasions. Some of these versions – varying as one to nine reelers in their release – are also presumed lost or suffer missing reels. The most famous of these silent era cinematic adaptations have survived: Victor Seastrom’s 1926 version for Metro Goldwin Mayer featuring Lillian Gish and Henry B. Walthall.

But producer Larry Darmour, the founder and president of Majestic Pictures, was determined to bring The Scarlet Letter to the big screen for the title’s first sound version. A wartime cameraman and newsreel editor, Darmour was interested in creating Hollywood productions, ultimately scoring his earliest success with a series of Mickey Rooney Mickey McGuire comedy shorts. Then - riding on the coattails of Universal’s successful Dracula and Frankenstein pictures – Darmour served as an uncredited executive producer for Frank R. Strayer’s The Vampire Bat (1933), a fine Golden Age chiller featuring Lionel Atwill and Fay Wray.

It was gossip columnist Louella Parsons who broke the big news in March of 1934: “The Scarlet Letter, the picture that MGM would just as soon forget, is to be brought back to life. But this time it will be made without the airy, fairy Lillian Gish and in a different mood. I don’t know how it can be made different, but Larry Darmour […] says they will bring a little humor into it. Hope Nathaniel Hawthorne won’t turn in his grave if they put too much humor into his famous novel.” Parsons would also report that Leonard Fields and David Silverstein had been hired to script from Hawthorne’s novel.

It is true that Darmour made the odd decision to bring in episodes of light-comedy relief to this otherwise somber and dramatic enterprise. Actors Alan Hale (“Bartholomew Hockings”) and William Kent (“Sampson Goodfellow”) are written into the storyline – neither character appears in the original novel – and the pair’s misadventures as offered are completely irrelevant to the film’s storyline and disturb the scenario’s sense of dramatic tension. Variety certainly noted this scripting failure in their review of September 25, 1934, noting this “venerated classic [goes] wrecked on the rocks of comedy relief. Hawthorne’s tense plot is lightened with a John Alden-Miles Standish development that recurs with mathematical precision about every so often to spoil whatever tension the players have been able to create.”

The role of beleaguered Hester Prynne was given to the acclaimed silent-film actress Colleen Moore, just coming off her early sound role as “Sarah” in J. Walter Ruben’s gun-less and pretty pedestrian crime-drama Success at any Price (1934). In the words of an overly critical journalist from the Evening Vanguard (Venice, CA), Moore’s assumption of the Prynne role might “atone somewhat” for the failures of Success. Moore was already disillusioned with Hollywood’s new way of doing things, this ingénue of the silent screen uncomfortable with both microphones and sound recording. Moore’s appearance in The Scarlet Letter would in fact prove to be her final big screen credit.

The actor Henry B. Walthall more easily made the transition to sound pictures. He had been knocking around movie sets since 1908 and would continue working until his death in 1936. Walthall was cast to reprise his role as Prynne’s surprisingly-retuned-from-sea husband Roger Chillingworth: who now lives only to bitterly exact revenge on the unnamed father of young Pearl and bring public “dishonor” upon Hester as a “faithless woman.” Hardie Albright rounds out the cast’s major players, taking on the role of preacher “Arthur Dimmesdale,” a fallen Man-of-God tortured by a secret that has eaten away at his soul.

In May of 1934, the Los Angeles Times reported this first sound version of The Scarlet Letter was to go before cameras on or about May 23^rd. The film was shot primarily at Culver City’s Pathe Studios and at RKO’s forty-acre desert Pathe Ranch location. The latter area suffered no shortage of rattlesnakes crawling about. Film producer-distributor Sam Sherman suggests on a commentary that a cruel joke played on snake-fearing actress Moore by members of the film crew actually led to the actresses’ hospitalization for a nervous breakdown.

There were some journalist-train spotters who seemed dismissive of the project from its onset, carping on the smallest of details of Majestic’s economically-budgeted feature. Again, from an on-set report in June of 1934 courtesy of the Evening Vanguard: “An anachronistic note occurs in the churchyard. The dates on the tombstones are of the nineteenth century. On a major lot, such a state of affairs would not be tolerated for a moment.” The filmmakers protested such eagle-eyed nonsense, noting – accurately – that such graves would only be seen “from a distance” in the final print.

By 2 July 1934, production was already completed, Variety reporting that Darmour was in process of producing no fewer than thirteen features for Majestic, with The Scarlet Letter and Ralph Cedar’s She Had to Choose (with Buster Crabbe and Isabel Jewell) already in the can. There was a preview screening of The Scarlet Letter held at Pasadena’s Colorado Theatre held in July of 1934. Billboard allowed the film was a “sincere effort, singling out Moore’s performance as “the only redeeming thing about the whole business, [but] the balance of the cast are mere shadows.” The review also thought the film demonstrated a “slow development and uneven tempo.” The critic mused the script might have benefited with modern dialogue, as the cast was (…) “to speak the silly lither of year’s gone past.”

The critic from Variety was in agreement that Moore’s performance was “informed by gentle humility which gives the part dignity and appeal.” And though the scenarists were given credit for a mostly “well done” script, the writers were chided for not digging “below the surface” to reflect the “real soul-tragedy” of this man/woman relationship, choosing instead to only amplify the “community’s cruelty to the transgressor.” Though the Boston Globe thought the film a worthwhile effort, this critic too made plain The Scarlet Letter was not a “first-rank picture.” Post-dated tombstones aside, it was the reviewer’s belief the film offered, “Too much attention to realism of detail, and not enough of virtue of emotion in drama.”

But ultimately the harshest critic of Vignola’s The Scarlet Letter was the powerful Archbishop John T. McNicholas of The Catholic League of Decency who found the age-old subject matter of adultery and babies born out of wedlock to be contemporaneously dangerous and abhorrent. The League put the film on its banned list as a “Class C” film, a rating deeming such films as “indecent and immoral and unfit for public entertainment." This was problematic for the producer Darmour as many Americans accepted the judgement of the clergy as holy writ to be wholeheartedly obeyed.

Hoping to change the mind of the “Decency” League ruling – while arguing for the right of free expression in America – Darmour would telegram McNicholas in September of 1934. The ruling, he protested, was unfair. After all, the producer argued, 95% of U.S. schools offered Hawthorne’s book as “compulsory reading” in their curriculum of American literature studies. Darmour also sent a copy of his telegram to newspapers. It read:

We were moved to produce The Scarlet Letter because of its widespread use in schools, logically feeling that a faithful screen adaptation should be acceptable to educators. We have adhered faithfully to the basic theme related in Hawthorne’s great work.

If the campaign you are waging for decency is carried to its logical end, why, then, are not attempts made to bar the book in schools and public libraries? Since the film version is a faithful adaptation of the book, your ban on the film appears as agitation against one medium and not another. One is forced to admit this is discrimination and wholly undemocratic.”

Sadly, it appears as though this telegram, with minor changes in the particulars, could be sent to administrators of certain U.S. States in 2023. The more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?

(Photo: Cinema Retro Archive.)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Tom Smothers of the famed comedy duo The Smothers Brothers, has passed away at 86. Early reports indicate he was suffering from cancer. Along with his younger brother Dick, he became an icon of American comedy in the 1960s. The duo started off spoofing the blossoming folk music scene and incorporating it into their standup act, which quickly drew packed houses. In 1967, the brothers were signed by CBS for their own Sunday night show "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour". Despite their physical appearance as short-haired, squeaky clean squares, the brothers used the clout of their successful show to emphasize political humor. It made for "must-see" TV in an era defined by the protest movements over racial injustice and the Vietnam War. CBS began to get anxious when conservative viewers complained that the political humor was going to far. Although Tom Smothers was a self-defined liberal, the brothers satirized both Republicans and Democrats. As with any incumbent President, Lyndon. B. Johnson was often the prime target, as the brothers vehemently opposed his Vietnam War policies. In one instance, the President himself called CBS to complain about how he was being portrayed. In 1967, CBS deleted a performance by Pete Seeger of his thinly-veiled anti-Vietnam War song, "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy". Tom Smothers and his brother were not intimidated and continued the barbed humor when Richard Nixon was inaugurated as President in January, 1969. The brothers showcased impersonator David Frye, whose satirical portrayal of Nixon was as amusing as it was controversial, even though Frye had also satirized President Johnson in an equally barbed manner. By then, CBS had enough of the controversy and canceled the show that April. Officially, the reason was over a dispute about a preview tape of the next show that the network said Tom had not delivered, an accusation he always denied. The brothers sued the network and won the case. Although they were awarded sizeable damages, the show could not be revived.

As with Ed Sullivan, whose variety show also aired on CBS on Sunday nights, the brothers used their image as squares for comedic effect. But, also like Sullivan, they proved to be the hippest guys around when it came to showcasing emerging talents in the rock and soul music world. It was an era in which teenagers would actually stay home to watch variety shows if it gave them a chance to see their favorite groups perform. The brothers also had a talent for finding other young talent. Their staff of writers included newcomers Steve Martin, Rob Reiner and Mason Williams, whose instrumental song "Classical Gas" would become a late-1960s hit. Even Carl Gottlieb, who went on to write the screenplay for "Jaws", started as a writer on the show.  They also showcased promising comedy acts such as George Carlin and Pat Paulsen, whose quixotic tongue-in-cheek run for President in the 1968 election made him a pop culture phenomenon at the time.

For more, click here. For in-depth coverage of Smothers' life and career, click here for Washington Post coverage. (May require subscription.)

"KUBRICK: AN ODYSSEY”

By Robert P. Kolker and Nathan Abrams

(UK: Faber & Faber; ISBN: 978-0571370368; January 2024)

(US: Pegasus Books; ISBN: 978-1639366248; February 2024)

“ANATOMY OF AN ARTIST”

By Raymond Benson

Several biographies of filmmaker Stanley Kubrick have been published, as well as numerous books on the director’s filmography, works on specific movies, and pieces of ephemeral studies. It is said that more has been written about Stanley Kubrick than any other important cinema artist except for Alfred Hitchcock.

Now comes the hefty, superb tome by Robert P. Kolker and Nathan Abrams, Kubrick: An Odyssey. As someone who has been a Kubrick aficionado since the late 1960s, having read nearly all the existing titles about him, been to his estate in England, visited his archives at London’s University of Arts, and currently know members of his family, I can confidently say that Kubrick: An Odyssey is the most outstanding biographical work on this enigmatic and challenging filmmaker to date.

Previous biographies, while admirable, suffered from the lack of enough material, due to inaccessibility, about Kubrick’s personal life. Granted, Stanley Kubrick was an extremely private individual and he guarded his privacy as if it were a fortress. Most of the books out there are simply examinations and analyses of Kubrick’s films (and many are excellent). The closest we got to an intimately personal look at Stanley Kubrick was the 2012 memoir by his trusted driver and assistant, Emilio D’Alessandro (co-written with Filippo Ulivieri), Stanley Kubrick and Me.

The new book by Kolker and Abrams changes that. With access to Kubrick’s archives and to family members, the authors have penetrated the mountains of correspondence and the treasure troves of boxes that Kubrick left behind after his sudden passing in March 1999, four-and-a-half months before the premiere of his final feature, Eyes Wide Shut.

It’s a big book, one that covers every aspect of Kubrick’s life from childhood to death. Thankfully, it is not written in an academic style; Kubrick: An Odyssey is immensely readable, it moves through the years with surprising details that many fans have never seen before. Want to know more about Kubrick’s first two marriages or who he dated in-between them? You can find out here! Additionally, the authors do not fawn over their subject; they are not afraid to uncover the warts, such as his curious battles with co-screenwriters over ownership. And yet, overall, Stanley Kubrick comes off as a human being who was devoted to his family, his home, and above all else, his work. This biography is an anatomy of an artist who insisted on carving a career path according to his own rules, convention be damned.

Devotees of the filmmaker will learn more about Kubrick’s unrealized projects throughout the years. Many of these we knew about, but we perhaps didn’t have insight into how he might have made such possible films as Burning Secret, based on a Stefan Zweig novel about a rich baron who seduces a woman at a hotel spa by befriending her twelve-year-old son. Its themes of jealousy, illicit affairs, and confidences might have been an early take on what much later became Eyes Wide Shut. Kubrick had always had an interest in the subject of marital jealousy and had wanted to create something on that topic as far back as the 1950s.

Another tantalizing tidbit, first mentioned by biographer John Baxter, is that in 1960, Kubrick may have been speaking to executives at MCA about adapting for television a detective series, Dr. Brilliant, created by none other than Ian Fleming!

The usual tropes of Kubrick’s perfectionism and obstinate penchant for multiple takes on movie sets are discussed, and many are put to rest as myths. The authors cannily peel back the façade that the press and PR have painted of Kubrick. Underneath is a man of extraordinary intellect who deeply cared about his art. He took great pains—and lengthy amounts of time—to first choose and then come to grips with a project in order to develop the passion he required to invest the energy into seeing them through to fruition. Coupled with this fervor for cinema is Kubrick’s family man persona—once he had settled into his successful third marriage, he was surrounded by women (his wife and three daughters) and an abundance of dogs and cats (he was an animal lover, and that says a lot about Stanley Kubrick’s personality).

For the films themselves, there is plenty here about the morsels that generated Kubrick’s cult of followers—Dr. Strangelove, 2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon, The Shining, Full Metal Jacket, and all the others are discussed in depth.

For anyone interested in cinema history, exceptional filmmaking, and a director who rightly earned the label of auteur, Kubrick: An Odyssey is an exceptional, thorough biography of one of the most renowned and controversial names in motion pictures.

Click here to pre-order from Amazon USA

Turner Classic Movies (TCM) will celebrate the 100th Anniversary of Columbia Pictures with a spotlight on their incredible film legacy beginning Wednesday, January 3. Join TCM host Ben Mankiewicz in the month-long celebration showcasing the breadth of the studio’s films with a different decade every Wednesday, from the 1920s and 1930s with “It Happened One Night” all the way through to 2000s “Marie Antoinette.” The celebration will kick off Wednesday, January 3 at 8pm ET, ahead of Columbia Pictures 100th Anniversary on January 10. 

The following is a complete schedule for TCM’s January Spotlight:

TCM January Spotlight: Columbia Pictures 100th Anniversary
(All Times Eastern) 

Wednesday, January 3
Night One – the 1920s and 1930s 

8:00 PM – It Happened One Night (1934) 

10:00 PM – Woman Haters (1934) (Three Stooges Short) 

10:30 PM – The Awful Truth (1937) 

12:15 AM – You Can’t Take it With You (1938)  

2:30 AM – Man’s Castle (1933)  

4:00 AM – The Belle of Broadway (1926)  

Wednesday, January 10
Night Two – the 1940s and 1950s 

 8:00 PM – Gilda (1946)  

10:00 PM – Born Yesterday (1950)  

12:00 AM – You Natzy Spy (1940) (Three Stooges Short) 

12:30 AM – On the Waterfront (1954)  

2:30 AM – Ride Lonesome (1959)  

4:00 AM – The Caine Mutiny (1954) 

Wednesday, January 17
Night Three – the 1960s and 1970s 

8:00 PM – Lawrence of Arabia (1962) 

12:00 AM – Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)  

2:30 AM – Taxi Driver (1976)  

4:30 AM – Funny Girl (1968) 

7:00 AM – The China Syndrome (1979) 

Wednesday, January 24
Night Four – the 1980s and 1990s 

8:00 PM – Gandhi (1982)  

11:30 PM – Philadelphia (1993) – (TriStar film) 

2:00 AM – One False Move (1992)  

4:00 AM – The Last Emperor (1987)  

Wednesday, January 31
Night Five – the 2000s and 2010s 

8:00 PM – Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) – (Sony Pictures Classics)

10:15 PM – Something’s Gotta Give (2003)

12:30 AM – Punch Drunk Love (2002)  

 2:15 AM – Whiplash (2014)  – (Sony Pictures Classics) 

 4:15 AM – Marie Antoinette (2006)

Regular readers know that every Christmas, Cinema Retro pays homage to Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, the Citizen Kane of all movies relating to Santa Claus battling creatures from other planets. The 1964 $20,000 wonder has been a cinematic legend among bad movie lovers. We're happy to present the entire film for your (guilty) viewing pleasure.

Wishing our readers worldwide a happy and healthy holiday season!

In this 1986 classic sketch from "Saturday Night Live", the "lost ending" of Frank Capra's Christmas classic "It's a Wonderful Life" is presented...and shows Jimmy Stewart in a new light!

By Ernie Magnotta

Due to the financial success of the highly enjoyable 1985 martial arts/actioner American Ninja, a sequel was quickly put into production which would feature the return of stars Michael Dudikoff and Steve James as well as director Sam Firstenberg.

Written by James Booth and Gary Conway (from a story by Conway), American Ninja 2: The Confrontation finds our heroes—US Army Rangers Sergeant Joe Armstrong (Dudikoff) and Sergeant Curtis Jackson (James)—travelling to the Caribbean in order to search for a group of Marines that have gone missing. Once there, they find that an evil drug lord known as the Lion (Gary Conway) has been brainwashing and genetically enhancing soldiers, transforming them into superhuman Ninja killers. Are the Ninjitsu skills of Armstrong and Jackson enough to stop the Lion from turning the missing Marines into deadly Super Ninjas?

Filmed in South Africa and released by Cannon Films on May 1, 1987, American Ninja 2: The Confrontation, while not as solid or as successful as its predecessor, is still a very fun, 80s adventure. It’s no surprise that veteran action director Firstenberg expertly handles the film’s many exciting action sequences, and the cast, led by the talented Dudikoff and James, is a joy to watch. The film clocks in at a brief 90 minutes and features familiar faces such as Conway, Jeff Weston and karate champion Mike Stone; not to mention legendary actor/stuntman Kane Hodder (Jason from the Friday the 13^th franchise) in a brief role as a thug. If, like me, you’re a fan of super fun 80s action flicks, Dudikoff, James, or all three, you’ll find plenty to enjoy here.

American Ninja 2: The Confrontation has been released on a region one Blu-ray by Kino Lorber and is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. As with the KLedition of the 1985 film, the sequel looks and sounds fantastic. The special features include two informative audio commentaries: one by director Firstenberg (moderated by filmmaker/editor Elijah Drenner) and another by Firstenberg and Stunt Coordinator BJ Davis. There is also the featurette: An American Ninja in Cape Town: The Making of American Ninja 2 as well as the original theatrical trailer. The Blu-ray also comes with an eye-catching slipcover.

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Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Shout! Factory.

For the honor of the crown and the destiny of a country, four heroes must reassemble for one last epic battle in the cult film classic, THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. Directed by Randall Wallace (We Were Soldiers, Pearl Harbor), Leonardo DiCaprio (Killers of the Flower Moon) leads a phenomenal cast, including Jeremy Irons (Red Sparrow), John Malkovich (Bullet Head), Gérard Depardieu (To the Ends of the Earth), and Gabriel Byrne (Hereditary) in this thrilling tale of majesty and Musketeers. On December 26, 2023, Shout! Select will release THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK Collector’s Edition in 4K UHD™+ Blu-ray™. This must-have home entertainment release features new 4K transfer from the original negative in Dolby Vision, and special bonus content. Movie collectors and fans can now preorder THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK Collector’s Edition 4K UHD™+ Blu-ray™ at ShoutFactory.com.

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Movie synopsis

Louis XIII, King of France, had a son, Louis, who succeeded his father to the throne. But, known to very few, the heir had a twin brother, Philippe, hidden away after birth and forced to languish in prison, his identity unknown behind an iron mask. His brother, now grown and King Louis XIV, proved to be both corrupt and a tyrant. Louis sends Athos’ son, Raoul off to certain death in war, so that he could have his woman for himself. Athos, together with two of the other Musketeers, Porthos and Aramis, swear revenge. Only D’Artagnan remains loyal to the crown, but will he join his former compatriots to free Philippe from prison, kill the king, and put Philippe on the throne in his place?

UNITED ARTISTS Presents A RANDALL WALLACE Film LEONARDO DiCAPRIO JEREMY IRONS

JOHN MALKOVICH GÉRARD DEPARDIEU GABRIEL BYRNE “THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK”

ANNE PARILLAUD JUDITH GODRÈCHE A UNITED ARTISTS CORPORATION LTD. Production

Music by NICK GLENNIE-SMITH Costume Designer JAMES ACHESON Edited by WILLIAM HOY

Production Designed by ANTHONY PRATT Director of Photography PETER SUSCHITZKY

Based upon the novel by ALEXANDRE DUMAS Co-Producer PAUL HITCHCOCK Executive Producer ALAN LADD, JR.

Produced by RANDALL WALLACE RUSSELL SMITH Written for the Screen and Directed by RANDALL WALLACE

THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK Collector’s Edition

Bonus Features for UHD/Blu-ray

DISC ONE (4K UHD):

· NEW 4K Transfer From the Original Camera Negative

· Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1, 2.0

· In Dolby Vision (HDR-10 Compatible)

· Audio Commentary With Writer/Director Randall Wallace

DISC TWO (BLU-RAY):

· NEW 4K Transfer From The Original Camera Negative

· Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1, 2.0

· Audio Commentary with Randall Wallace

· Interview With Producer Paul Hitchcock

· Interview With Production Designer Anthony Pratt

· “Myth And The Musketeers” Featurette

· “Director’s Take” Featurette

· “Alternate Mask Prototypes” Featurette

· Original Behind-The-Scenes Featurette

· Theatrical Trailer

The Barrymore Film Center and Museum in Fort Lee, New Jersey, will present a rare big screen showing of director Michael Cimino's epic 1980 Western, "Heaven's Gate". The film was drenched in controversy when it first opened and reviews were so bad that United Artists withdrew the movie from the few prestigious theaters it had opened in. The studio ordered Cimino to re-cut the film and a new, slimmed-down edition was released months later to disastrous financial results. Not helping matters was the fact that Cimino had crafted his over-schedule and over-budgeted film in a manner that was highly critical of the American government. The film is loosely based on The Johnson County War, a dispute between struggling farmers and cattle barons who wanted their land. The U.S. government did not stop the cattlemen from hiring paid assassins to terrorize and kill settlers who would not cede their land, based on the accusation that they were rustlers. In fact, President Benjamin Harrison authorized U.S. troops to intervene on behalf of the cattle barons when a wide range of conflicts broke out between them and the men they had targeted. America was in no mood for such a message, having just been through turbulent times relating to the Vietnam War, assassinations of high profile leaders and the the resignation of a once-popular president amidst the seemingly endless crimes revealed by the Watergate investigations. The nation wanted to feel good about itself once more and a few weeks after"Heaven's Gate" premiered, Ronald Reagan was elected President in a landslide. Reagan's "Morning in America" agenda sought to shake off the country's missteps and concentrate on the positive aspects. There wasn't much enthusiasm for Cimino's downbeat reminder of another American scandal, even if it was in the distant past.  In the ensuing years, however, the film has gained acclaim in some circles and Cimino's full-length version has occasionally been presented in theaters to appreciative audiences. If you attend the screening, leave time to explore the Barrymore's displays of vintage movie memorabilia and rare original posters dating back to the silent era. (Lee Pfeiffer)

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By Todd Garbarini

If Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Joseph Sargent’s Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970), Sir Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), Simon Wincer’s D.A.R.Y.L. (1985), and the television show Small Wonder (1985 – 1989) are all about anything that we can be absolutely sure of, they are about prescience and the coming of “Artificial Intelligence.” Following Stanford University professor John McCarthy’s 1955 Dartmouth workshop and his introduction of the term “Artificial Intelligence,” or “AI” as it is generally referred to now, AI means many things to many different people today. When these outings reached audiences, they were merely regarded as science fiction, though today there is an argument to be made that they should be reappraised as science fact. AI was not a term used when those films were released and has only come into universal parlance with the release of OpenAI’s ChatGPT in November 2022. One wonders how Alan Turing, Marvin Minsky, Allen Newell, and Herbert A. Simon, the four men all regarded as the “founding fathers” of Artificial Intelligence in the early 1950s, would have regarded these stories and if they were in line with their notions of AI.

Richard Colla’s The Questor Tapes is a made-for-TV movie that was largely ignored by audiences despite its interesting premise of a scientist named Emil Vaslovik (Lew Ayres) and his desire to build a superhuman android named Questor, expertly portrayed by veteran actor Robert Foxworth. Filmed in 1973 and intended to be the pilot for a projected NBC series, Questor was the brainchild of Gene Roddenberry, a television screenwriter and producer who is best known for both being confused with author Ray Bradbury as well as being the creator of the initially unsuccessful but later wildly popular sci-fi television series Star Trek. Broadcast on Wednesday, January 23, 1974, Questor begins with a team of scientific and electronic experts who, following the disappearance of Vaslovik, attempt to bring his vision to fruition despite being unable to decode the programming tape while also accidentally erasing most of the tape’s contents – a nod to the Watergate scandal of the time?

Geoffrey Darrow (John Vernon) is the new head of the project, and he butts heads with Vaslovik’s assistant, Jerry Robinson (Mike Farrell), who interrupts the data transfer and insists that the programming should be done with the partially erased tapes. When the android fails to respond, the “experts” leave the facility, dejected. While alone, Questor, bald and naked, whirrs to life and, in a positively ridiculous sequence, begins to transform itself from an “it” to a “him” (wait until you see how it adds hair to its chrome dome), managing to dress itself in clothing that perfectly fits. Questor sets off on a journey to search for Vaslovik and hopes to understand his purpose while attempting to fill in the blank spots due to the erased portions of his memory tapes. To do this, he enlists the help of a reluctant Robinson. Questor begins by talking the way that a robot would be perceived to speak, but through his travels with Robinson he begins to sound more and more human. There is a humorous sequence after the duo make their way to London and need to obtain more money. Questor solves this issue by using programmed intelligence to gain the upper hand in a casino sequence that would be later used by Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman in Barry Levinson’s Rain Man (1988) and by Jessica Alba in the “Cash Rules Everything Around Me” episode from October 2000 of the James Cameron-created series Dark Angel.

They make their way to a wealthy Lady Helena Trimble (Dana Wynter) who worked with Vaslovik and he gleans more info from her as to his creator’s whereabouts, though he is shot in a park by a soldier and is summarily returned to the laboratory. Following his repair, Questor sets off to Mount Ararat, allegedly the location of Noah’s Ark, and locates Vaslovik in a cave thanks to some nifty matte work by the late great Oscar-winning artist Albert Whitlock. Vaslovik, as it turns out, is also an android – shades of Blade Runner? Who can forget the revelatory stuttering of Felix Flankin at the end of Jules Bass’s 1967 outing Mad Monster Party? I will leave it up to you, the reader, to have a look at the film to explain the rather involved denouement but suffice it to say Mr. Roddenberry had a knack for creating projects that initially went nowhere, then revisiting them and turning them into hits. While Questor was initially conceived of as a series, with the movie intended as the series pilot, creative differences between Mr. Roddenberry and NBC forced it to be nixed and promoted as a one-off movie-of-the-week (known in the industry as an MOW) which, I feel, explains the film’s abrupt ending. Many of the ideas touched upon, including the notion of automatons and androids, made their way into the highly successful Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987 – 1994).

Questor explores themes common to other films of a similar ilk: What gives us our identity and what constitutes humanity? How do we, as humans, quench our thirst for knowledge and curiosity? Both Mr. Foxworth and Mr. Farrell possess good chemistry and it would have been nice to see where the series went.

The laboratory portions of the film were shot at the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena. While the technology of 1973 was considered to be “state-of-the-art” and then destined to become “soon-to-be-obsolete” as all technology inevitably does (at least according to Moore’s Law), it’s a kick to see how the experts reach their conclusions as to how Questor will react to the environment. The special effects are, as you can well imagine, dated, however the ideas are just as thought-provoking and visionary and never more topical than when viewed now in an era when robots are poised to man 18-wheelers, serve customers at fast food joints, and perform minimum wage tasks deemed repetitive and boring.

Kino Lorber has released the film on Blu-ray, and it looks great. There is an informative and spirited commentary track by film historian and screenwriter Gary Gerani. Extraordinarily knowledgeable and enjoyable to listen to, I will seek out other films that he speaks on. His commentary encompasses brief but thorough bios of the leading performers and makes comments on much of the onscreen action, how the sequences were accomplished, while also delving into matters of the plot and how they relate to the here-and-now. A first-rate commentary that easily lends itself to repeated playback.

Rounding out the extras are trailers for the film, as well as for Fear No Evil (1969), Scream, Pretty Peggy (1973), Buck Rogers in the 25^th Century (1979), The Groundstar Conspiracy (1972), The Black Marble (1980), and Fuzz (1972).

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Here is Kirk Douglas appearing as the mystery guest on the popular game show "What's My Line?". Based on the fact that he mentions his new movie is "Act of Love", we can pin the date of this broadcast to 1953.

By Fred Blosser

Life goes from bad to worse for Confederate soldier John Warner (George Hilton) in the opening half hour of “A Bullet for Sandoval,” a 1970 Spaghetti Western now available on Blu-ray in a Special Edition from VCI Entertainment. On the eve of battle in Texas, Warner learns that his sweetheart Rosa has just given birth to their son in plague-ridden Los Cedros, and now is dying from cholera. Denied authorisation to leave camp, Warner rides off anyway, incurring a death sentence for desertion. Arriving in Los Cedros with hopes of marrying Rosa before she dies, he finds no sympathy there either. Rosa has passed away, and her father Don Pedro Sandoval (Ernest Borgnine), a powerful grandee who loathes “gringos” in general and Warner in particular, is infuriated that the soldier has returned. He disowns the baby and drives Warner and the newborn out of his palatial hacienda.

Fleeing Los Cedros with his son, Warner is rebuffed at one way-station and then a second when he begs for milk for the infant. The people at both places are fearful of being infected when they learn that he has just come from Los Cedros. The weakened, feverish baby dies, and Warner becomes a vengeful outlaw, assembling a gang of henchmen to raid the settlements that drove him away when he needed their aid to keep his child alive. Three of the men—Sam, Lucky, and Priest—are trustworthy. The other three—Morton, One-Eye (“a sex maniac convicted of raping two little girls”), and Guadalupano—not so much. Warner comes to enjoy the riches and women that accrue from his new career as a bandit, but his ultimate target remains Sandoval. In the meantime, Don Pedro and his fellow cattle barons on the Border convince the Confederate army to help them pursue and eradicate Warner and his band.

Like most Spaghetti Westerns, “A Bullet for Sandoval” was an international production with Italian studio backing, a cast of actors from several countries, outdoor locations in the Spanish desert, and in this case, a Spanish director (Julio Buchs), and Spanish writers. In the starring role, George Hilton (born Jorge Hill Acosta y Lara) was an accomplished, darkly handsome Uruguayan actor who had a thriving career in Italian genre movies but was largely unknown to U.S. moviegoers. For marquee value in the States, the producers paired him with Ernest Borgnine as the imperious Don Pedro. Who didn’t know Ernest Borgnine from “The Wild Bunch,” “Ice Station Zebra,” a hundred other movies, and “McHale’s Navy”?

With Borgnine’s name prominently displayed on ads, “A Bullet for Sandoval” was one of several Spaghetti Westerns that opened in the U.S. in 1970, after the surprise success of “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” Derided by most critics as violent trash, they were usually relegated to drive-ins and second-run movie houses. There, they filled a void on double-bills left by the death of traditional, American-made B-Westerns like those made a decade before with aging stars like Dana Andrews, Glenn Ford, and Robert Taylor. Sometimes, ironically, they were paired with the homegrown Spaghetti imitations that Hollywood studios had begun to produce, like “Two Mules for Sister Sara,” “Barquero,” “Macho Callahan,” and “El Condor.”

The critics may have dismissed the genre, but their opinions were immaterial for the U.S. target audience of young guys in their teens and early twenties, who welcomed pictures like “A Bullet for Sandoval” on all-night movie marathons at local drive-ins. At one o’clock in the morning, in a pleasant stupor of fatigue and beer, few would question the accuracy or plausibility of a Civil War in which Confederate officers pause their military campaign to help ranchers chase outlaws. As far as fans were concerned, such fine points could be argued by history professors, as long as they could rely on filmmakers like Buchs to deliver a gritty succession of gunfights, chases, and gorgeous European starlets—in the case of “A Bullet for Sandoval,” Annabella Incontrera, Mary Paz Pondal, and Paquita Torres—in low-cut peasant blouses.

VCI Entertainment’s new Special Edition of “A Bullet for Sandoval” presents the film in a remastered, 4K version from the original negative, adding the English-dubbed voice track and diligently restoring ten minutes of footage edited out of the U.S. print in 1970 and consequently, out of previous American home video releases. As director and enthusiast Alex Cox suggests in his informative audio commentary for the disc, the movie is better than its synopsis implies. The script and direction give the story an epic scope despite a limited budget, culminating in a briskly staged showdown in a bullfighting arena, and Hilton and Borgnine offer heartfelt performances as the two antagonists. Relatively rare for a Spaghetti Western, both Warner and Don Pedro are emotionally damaged characters instead of the cool-cat bounty hunter and deranged bandido who usually anchor such films.

Cox notes that the grim scenes of Warner and his friends Lucky and Priest trying to keep Warner’s baby alive in the desert owe an obvious debt to “Three Godfathers,” John Ford’s 1948 parable of the Nativity story with horses and six-shooters. Ford was ever the optimist, and the infant in “Three Godfathers” survives, delivered safely to a Western town called Jerusalem by outlaw Bob Hightower, played by the indomitable John Wayne. Warner’s newborn isn’t as fortunate in a world bereft of Christian charity, reflecting the grim philosophy of the Spaghetti genre where the innocent are as likely to suffer as the corrupt and the guilty, and often, more likely.

In addition to Alex Cox’s commentary track, the VCI Special Edition includes the title sequence from the original Spanish version, titled “Los Desperados,” and the U.S. theatrical trailer. It is an admirably respectful package for a movie that few would have regarded as anything other than disposable entertainment five decades ago.

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“POWELL’S BIG BANG”

By Raymond Benson

The British production, The Edge of the World, was acclaimed director Michael Powell’s first important feature film. Released in 1937, it was well-received in the U.K. and it also made something of a splash in the USA among the more discerning critics and audiences who appreciated non-Hollywood fare.

Powell had been working in cinema in various capacities since the silent days as a still photographer, scriptwriter, and director of short films. Through most of the 1930s, he helmed over twenty pictures that had diverse levels of success, but it wasn’t until 1936-37 that he had the chance to make a truly personal film. This was the “big bang” breakthrough in his movie career.

The Edge of the World is based on a newspaper article Powell had read that documented how a remote island, St. Kilda in the Scottish Outer Hebrides, was losing its population due to the land’s inability to support the people, and because younger generations were fleeing to Scotland and England for better opportunities. Powell wrote an original script involving two families on such an island and how dramatic circumstances change their lives.

Unable to film on St. Kilda, Powell chose the northern island of Foula in the Shetland Islands group. It was suitably similar in both the landscape and the people’s geo-political issues. With a handful of known actors and by casting many characters from the locals, Powell and cinematographers Monty Berman, Skeets Kelly, Ernest Palmer, and Powell himself, captured (even in black and white) the beauty and awesome grandeur of the cliffs-dominated island.

Two dominant families on the fictional island of Hirta, the Mansons and the Grays, are united by an upcoming marriage between Andrew Gray (Niall MacGinnis) and Ruth Manson (Belle Chrystall). Ruth’s brother, Robbie (Eric Berry) is Andrew’s best friend. Conflict arises when Robbie announces that he’s leaving the island to go “see the world” because there’s nothing left on Hirta for him. Losing someone like Robbie hurts the economy because there aren’t that many strapping young men to do the fishing and crofting. Andrew attempts to convince Robbie to stay, but Robbie will have none of it. Andrew’s father (Finlay Currie) is somewhat sympathetic to Robbie and believes that the islanders’ way of life is indeed diminishing and that they should all evacuate for the good of their children’s children. Robbie’s father (John Laurie) disagrees and is determined to stay, despite his son’s wishes. Andrew and Robbie challenge each other to an age-old tradition of racing up one of the cliffs to determine if Robbie should stay or not. The results of the contest are tragic… and this deeply affects the futures of the two families and the rest of the story.

Michael Powell appears at the beginning of the film as a yachtsman escorting Andrew Gray back to the island for reminiscing (the rest of the movie is a flashback).

Short and tight (at 75 minutes), The Edge of the World is a slice of life to which few of us today can relate, but it is a well-made, touching depiction of the story that Powell wanted to tell. Perhaps more important than the movie itself is the fact that the picture’s reception enabled Powell to go on to bigger and better projects, such as Thief of Bagdad (1940) and the eventual brilliant partnership with co-director Emeric Pressburger.

In fact, the making of The Edge of the World meant so much to Powell that he returned to Foula in 1978 with a camera crew and some of the surviving actors to make a short documentary, Return to the Edge of the World. This half hour program is in full color and is a warm reunion between the filmmakers and the people who still reside on the island.

Milestone Film and Video presents a beautifully restored high definition of the feature film (distributed by Kino Lorber) with an audio commentary by Powell’s widow, Oscar-winning editor Thelma Schoonmaker, film historian Ian Christie, and Oscar-winning actor Daniel Day-Lewis reading from Powell’s book on the making of the film (200,000 Feet on Foula).

Supplements include alternate scenes; the original trailer; the documentary Return to the Edge of the World; Powell’s short 1941 film, An Airman’s Letter to His Mother; and Powell’s home movies shot on Foula, narrated by Schoonmaker.

The Edge of the World is recommended for fans of Michael Powell, Scotland history, and early British cinema.

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Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

Everybody cut, everybody cut…

Everybody cut FOOTLOOSE!

Celebrating its 40^th anniversary in 2024, the beloved classic FOOTLOOSE arrives for the first time ever on 4K Ultra HD^™ February 13, 2024 from Paramount Home Entertainment.

Originally released on February 17, 1984, FOOTLOOSE thrilled audiences with its spirited dancing, electrifying soundtrack, and inspiring story.  Kevin Bacon gives a star-making performance as a city boy whose rebellious love for music and dancing shakes up a small town. 

Directed by Herbert Ross and written by composer and writer Dean Pitchford, FOOTLOOSE was a massive success, earning $80 million at the domestic box office.  The film features an exceptional supporting cast, including Lori Singer, Dianne Wiest, John Lithgow, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Chris Penn, along with a sensational soundtrack featuring Kenny Loggins, Shalamar, Deniece Williams, Bonnie Tyler, Quiet Riot, John Mellencamp, Foreigner, and more.  Both “Footloose” and “Let’s Hear It for the Boy” were nominated for the Academy Award® for Best Music, Original Song.

Newly remastered, FOOTLOOSE will be available in a two-disc 4K Ultra HD/Blu-ray^™ set or a collectible SteelBook™ with artwork designed to look like an 80s Walkman.  Both sets include access to a digital copy of the film and the Blu-ray includes the legacy bonus content detailed below:

· Commentary by Craig Zadan and Dean Pitchford

· Commentary by Kevin Bacon      

· Let's Dance! Kevin Bacon on Footloose

· From Bomont to the Big Apple: An Interview with Sarah Jessica Parker

· Remembering Willard

· Kevin Bacon's Screen Test

· Kevin Bacon Costume Montage

· Footloose: A Modern Musical - Part 1

· Footloose: A Modern Musical - Part 2

· Footloose: Songs That Tell A Story

· Theatrical Trailer

Synopsis

City-boy Ren McCormick (Kevin Bacon) is new to an uptight small town where dancing has been banned. Ren quickly makes a new best friend in Willard (Chris Penn) and falls fast for the minister's daughter (Lori Singer), but his love for music and dancing gets him into hot water equally as fast.??

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By Doug Oswald

Humphry Bogart and Eleanor Parker feature in the aviation romance drama, “Chain Lightning,” available on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive Collection. Bogart is hot-shot test pilot Matt Brennan flying for an aircraft manufacturer contracted to produce a supersonic jet for the newly formed United States Air Force. The movie soon flashes back to 1943 in WWII England where we see the origins of the relationship between Bogart and Parker. Parker is Joan “Jo” Holloway, an American Red Cross nurse stationed in England where Lieutenant Colonel Matt Brennan is an experienced B-17 pilot. Richard Whorf is Carl Troxell, an engineer working for a B-17 aircraft manufacturer sent to research the reason for aircraft failures. Matt tells Carl exactly the issue which is obvious to those flying the bombing missions, the air war and the lack of long-range air cover support. While on a mission, they encounter a German Messerschmitt Me 163 Komet, a rocket powered interceptor that moves faster than anything in the allied arsenal.

Matt gets word he’s being rotated stateside to sell war bonds after surviving so many bombing missions over Europe. He’s faced with a complicated choice because he has to leave Jo in England. We hope he fulfills his promise to her, but this is Bogart and I think we know what will happen. We meet up with Matt again after the war working as a pilot trainer until he has a chance meeting with Leland Willis, the head of Willis Aviation, that leads to a job as test pilot working on developing jets for the Defense Department. Willis is played by Raymond Massey as the semi-villain of the film. Carl is working for Willis and is also now involved with Jo. The Matt, Jo, Carl love triangle is resolved, but tension arrives in the rivalry between Matt and Carl as they each work on projects to create a safe, fast jet.

Bogart is good playing Bogart and this role is no exception. He does have genuine chemistry with Eleanor Parker playing the girl who never fell out of love with him. While this is by no means a Bogart classic, it is certainly a small gem in his film career. Massey is good as the businessman who is willing to risk lives in order to succeed and Whorf is a bit too predictable as the third part of the love triangle and works hard to be the opposite of Bogart.

The movie is chockfull of WWII aviation footage which is integrated well into the story,including the crash landing in the early part of the movie. There is also pretty good model work later as we see Bogart piloting the jets and he’s seen at the controls in a studio cockpit and models used for the new jet attempting to break a cross- continent flight record.

The film was directed by Stuart Heisler, who had a career working on mostly B-movie dramas and thrillers, though he had a few stand-outs like “The Biscuit Eater” in 1940, “The Glass Key” in 1942, “Storm Warning” in 1950 and “Tokyo Joe” from 1949, the first of two movies with Bogart. Bogart’s filmography is filled with classics, duds and those in between like “Chain Lightning.” Eleanor Parker appeared in many movies, sometimes as the lead, throughout the 50s and early 60s. Raymond Massey was great at playing heavies and semi-villainous roles with occasional heroic figures such as Abraham Lincoln. Richard Whorf is a bit of an enigma for me, featuring in mostly B-movies and never quite reaching leading man status.

Released in 1950 with a flight time of 95 minutes, the movie looks and sounds terrific on this region-free Blu-ray upgrade from the previous DVD release. Extras on the disc include the animated “Bear Feat,” the Joe McDoakes comedy short film “So You Want to Be an Actor” and the trailer for the film. The movie is recommended for Bogart fans and aviation movie enthusiasts.

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Joe Dante's "Trailers from Hell" site features Marlon Brando trailers this week, including director Sidney J. Furie's sadly neglected 1966 Western "The Appaloosa", with trailer commentary by film director Daniel Kremer, who authored a book about Furie. Kremer makes the most of the trailer's limited running time, providing fascinating and amusing insights into Brando's bizarre behavior on the set. The reluctant superstar had a bad attitude about making the film, which he had to do to satisfy a long-time contractual commitment to Universal. The film is not a classic, but like most of the movies Brando made in the 1960s, it is underrated. 

Click here to order the Blu-ray of the film with commentary track by Cinema Retro's Lee Pfeiffer and film historian Paul Scrabo.