By Nicholas Anez

In 1981, United Artists released True Confessions, a Robert Chartoff and Irwin Winkler production directed by Ulu Grosbard. Robert De Niro and Robert Duvall star in the movie. It is about faith, hope, repentance and salvation. It is also about greed, corruption, pornography and murder.

The setting is Los Angeles of 1948. This is the City of Angels as conceived by John Gregory Dunne in his superb 1977 novel of the same title. Dunne was an accomplished novelist as well as a literary critic and a notable writer of non-fiction; his 1998 book, Monster: Living Off the Big Screen, is an invaluable account of the trials and tribulations of writing a screenplay in Hollywood. True Confessions is certainly his best novel and, together with Joan Didion (aka Mrs. Dunne), he adapted it to the screen. Didion was an equally fine novelist and was also known for her acerbic essays on California culture; in 1972, Didion and Dunne wrote the screenplay for Didion’s acclaimed 1970 novel Play It as It Lays. The screenplay for True Confessions naturally condenses the novel, which was 341 pages in its first edition, and eliminates many incidents as well as characters. Nevertheless, the movie still fully captures the essence of the novel. Actually, the screenplay improves upon the novel in one respect, possibly due to Didion’s involvement. Dunne seems to have written the novel in part as a form of therapy regarding his Irish-Catholic upbringing; by the novel’s midpoint, many of the characters seem to blend together as hopeless, cynical sinners. The movie is less critical of its main characters without softening the impact of the narrative. Significantly, the movie still captures Dunne’s insightful portrait of post-war Los Angeles. This is a city in which moral and spiritual decay flourish. And it is a city in which the excessively brutal murder of a young woman symbolizes the depravity that permeates every facet of its superficially glittering façade.

The film, like the novel, uses the factual Black Dahlia murder case of 1947 as a catalyst for the plot but it is primarily the story of the two Spellacy brothers and how their relationship becomes entwined with the murder of the woman whom the press calls “the virgin tramp.” Monsignor Desmond Spellacy (Robert De Niro) is an ambitious priest in the Catholic Church who hopes to rise someday to the position of cardinal even if it means neglecting his sacred vows. Detective Sergeant Tom Spellacy (Robert Duvall) is an embittered detective in the Los Angeles Police Department who is disgusted by the pervasive corruption and by the fact that he was once a part of it. Both Des and Tom are dealing with guilt which accounts in part for their strained relationship. Des has perhaps been repressing his guilt but as the story progresses it will come to the surface and he will have to confront it. Tom has lived with his guilt since he was a young vice cop and now sees an opportunity to expiate it. When the dissected body of Lois Fazenda is found in a vacant lot, it sets into motion a series of events that will involve both Tom and Des. Tom is in charge of investigating the murder while Des has a peripheral connection to the victim. Neither Tom nor Des initially realize it but the murder will propel them on a collision course.

This is a complex film and, as the story unfolds, it expands to include the compromises that individuals in the Los Angeles Police Department and in the Catholic Church must make to exist in a morally corrupt environment. Representative of this corruption is Jack Amsterdam (Charles Durning), a wealthy construction magnate and a respected member of the Catholic populace. Amsterdam also has a disreputable past of which both Tom and Des are aware. Nevertheless, Des has a history of awarding contracts for building projects within the diocese to Amsterdam in return for financial savings for the Church. It infuriates Tom that Des disregards Amsterdam’s unsavory past because of his wealth. However, Tom doesn’t know that Des is on the verge of terminating the Church’s association with Amsterdam. Des hopes to soften the jolt by awarding Amsterdam with a ceremony honoring him as Catholic Layman of the Year. Meanwhile, Tom’s investigation takes a surprising turn when Amsterdam’s name appears among the victim’s acquaintances. This increases his determination to solve the crime, regardless of how it may involve his brother.

Ulu Grosbard initially achieved fame as a Broadway theater director. He received two Tony nominations for Best Direction, in 1965 for Frank Gilroy’s The Subject Was Roses and in 1977 for David Mamet’s American Buffalo. Regarding his film career, some critics accused him of lacking an individual style as well as an artistic approach to the medium of film that would distinguish his movies. This may be due in part to the fact that, though his film career spanned three decades, he only directed seven movies (compared to eight Broadway plays), all of which are different in style and genre. He began his Hollywood career as an assistant director in the early 1960s. His first directorial credit was the film version of The Subject Was Roses (1968), which proved that he was equally adept with film as he was with the stage. He followed this with an interesting but pretentious misfire, Who Is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me? (1971). However, his third film, Straight Time (1978), is another underrated gem. True Confessions followed and is undoubtedly his best film. He followed this with a modest romantic drama, Falling in Love (1984), also with De Niro.

Grosbard distinctly demonstrates cinematic expertise with True Confessions. He imbues the movie with a neo-noir atmosphere, though this may not be initially apparent from the film’s beginning. The movie opens in 1962 as the elderly Spellacy brothers reunite in a dilapidated church in the desert in Palm Springs. This will lead to the flashback to 1948 and the main narrative which begins with a wedding in an opulent church in Los Angeles. The stark difference between the rundown church in the desert and the multi-million dollar cathedral is readily apparent. Equally apparent is the difference between the humble appearance of the elderly desert priest and the luxuriously attired young city ecclesiastic, especially since they are the same person. The reason for this transformation, which the public and the press labeled his disgraceful downfall, is the heart of the story that follows.

Grosbard directs the film in a restrained manner, excluding any flamboyance which might distract from his emphasis on the characterizations of Des and Tom Spellacy. His direction includes several memorable sequences. The restaurant scene begins with Tom’s amusing response to an uppity maitre’d and ends with his angry confrontation with Amsterdam in front of an embarrassed Des. The Catholic Layman Award ceremony simmers with suppressed tension and climaxes with an even more violent altercation between Tom and Amsterdam. The confessional scene in which both Amsterdam and Tom furiously and unjustly lash out at Des instead of one another bristles with unbounded rage while eliciting sympathy for the beleaguered monsignor. And there are some quieter scenes which are notable for their sensitivity to the characters. The diner scene in which Desmond tries to express to Tom his regret for the course of his life reveals the latent tenderness between the brothers, an emotion which both are unable to express. The abandoned military base in which Tom discovers the sight of the murder is shocking in its underlying anguish for the savagely-murdered victim. Even more sorrowful is the scene in which Tom tries to console Lois Fazenda’s parents as they remember her innocent childhood full of hopes and dreams. Through scenes such as these, Grosbard gradually builds the emotional content of the story as well as the tension until the explosive penultimate scene outside the courthouse. The director received some criticism for the brevity of this scene, for not showing Amsterdam’s comeuppance and for not filming a more dynamic solution to the murder. But this would have distracted from his main theme which is why he returns to the desert church for the highly poignant finale.

By Lee Pfeiffer

If you haven't caught up with Michael Caine as Harry Brown yet, the fact that it is now streaming on Amazon Prime may will allow you to do so. It's time well- spent. At an age where most thespians were comfortably retired, Caine was not only still a viable leading man when the film was made, but a viable leading man in action films. Harry Brown was released in 2009 and generated decent reviews and business in the UK, but it received a blink-and-you'll-miss-it run in the USA.  The film consciously (some might say pretentiously) strives to bring Caine back to the turf of one of his greatest films: the gritty 1971 crime classic Get Carter.  This film isn't of that caliber, but it represented Caine's strongest role in years. He plays a quiet pensioner eaking out an existence in a London housing estate that is beset with violence and terrorized by omnipresent street gangs. In the early part of the film, Harry's beloved wife of many years dies from an illness. Then his best friend is murdered by the thugs. You don't have to be the Amazing Kreskin to predict what happens next. Caine takes it upon himself to avenge his friend's death and utilizes his training as a Royal Marine (he fought in Korea) to reawaken his savage instincts. Slowly and methodically, he hunts down the main culprits and dispenses his own brand of justice.

If this sounds like a geriatric Death Wish, it most certainly is. However, the film is very moving on certain levels, as we watch this likeable man of peace's world crumble around him. His trail of vengeance is presented logically and he doesn't become a superman in the process. The film is ably directed by Daniel Barber, who makes the most of the locations at London's notoriously dreary Heygate Estate, which has since been demolished. Caine is aided by a fine supporting cast, with Emily Mortner especially good as a detective who is assigned to stop the vigilante killings. She suspects Caine is the killer, but can't help sympathizing with him. 

It's rare that the film industry affords an older actor a plumb role in an action film. Harry Brown may not be a classic, but it's good enough to rise above most contemporary action movies.

By Darren Allison

Having starred in the popular sitcom series The Munsters from 1964 -1966, Herman (Fred Gwynne), Lily (Yvonne De Carlo), Grandpa (Al Lewis), Eddie (Butch Patrick) and Marilyn (Debbie Watson) hit the big screen in Munster, Go Home (1966).

Produced and co-written by series creators Joe Connelly and Bob Mosher (Leave It to Beaver), this satire of American suburban life features British comedians Terry-Thomas and Hermione Gingold, legendary horror star John Carradine and future Family Feud host Richard Dawson, who was then appearing on Hogan’s Heroes.

The Munsters achieved higher Nielsen ratings than the similarly macabre family of the time The Addams Family. In 1965 it was nominated for the Golden Globe Award for Best Television Series but lost to The Rogues starring David Niven which was cancelled after one season.

After 70 episodes, The Munsters was also cancelled after ratings dropped due to competition from the Batman TV Series. The film was produced immediately after the television series completed filming. It starred the original cast (Fred Gwynne, Yvonne De Carlo, Al Lewis, Butch Patrick) apart from Marilyn, who was played by Debbie Watson, replacing Pat Priest from the series.

The movie was released in Technicolor, whereas the TV series was telecast in black & white. The hope was that the film would introduce the series to the world in advance of negotiating future syndication rights. The film was released in the United Kingdom at the end of December 1966 as support for the Norman Wisdom movie Press for Time (1966). The instrumental theme song, titled The Munsters' Theme, was composed by composer/arranger Jack Marshall and was nominated for a Grammy Award in 1965.

The story sees Herman becoming Lord Munster after he inherits an estate from an English uncle. With Spot guarding 1313 Mockingbird Lane, Herman leaves his job at Gateman, Goodbury & Graves Morticians for Munster Hall in England. Whilst there, he uncovers a counterfeiting ring and upholds the family honour by driving his Drag-u-la special in the annual road race.

The move from the TV screen to the cinema screen is often a gamble. The transition is tricky, with the chief obstacle finding a story interesting enough to fill a 90-minute slot while at the same time sustaining the audience’s attention can be tough. However, the central problem with Munster, Go Home! is that it just really isn’t that funny. The shifting dimensions between TV and cinema so often adjust the overall dynamics. The absence and familiarity of a laughter track almost leaves a cold, empty feel to the movie. Whilst The Munsters (shot at Universal City) was never filmed in front of a live studio audience, it was overdubbed with ‘canned laughter’ or a laughter track, an element that at least helped cue up or support a punchline or a comedic line of dialogue. As a result, something just seems to be lost in the movie version. Even the support from Terry-Thomas as English ancestor Freddie Munster is really over-the-top and at times borders on embarrassing. At just 96- minutes, it’s all really hard work.

Nevertheless, it’s not all bad. On the technical side, the production values work very well. Creepy dungeons, gothic mansions et al – create the perfect setting and atmosphere to satisfy every horror kid’s dream. The film is also presented in its original theatrical 1.85:1 ratio. But the real winner here is the Technicolor photography; the process simply elevates everything on display. It’s a distinctly ‘groovy’ 60’s colour pallet with all of its vibrant lime greens, luminous pinks and rich reds’ really igniting the screen and it comes through as the film’s overall saving grace.

Considering the film (and the series it was based upon) was so culturally significant, the Blu-ray’s extras are decidedly thin, consisting of just a lone theatrical trailer. It’s a real pity that some film or horror historian couldn’t be found to sit in and provide some sort of commentary – especially as the whole franchise had loose connections and is distantly related to the whole Universal Horror cycle…

Munster, Go Home! is released on July 25th 2022 as a Region 2 Blu-ray and is available from www.fabulousfilms.com

(Darren Allison is the Soundtracks Editor for Cinema Retro)

BY PAUL SCRABO

Once upon a time (or more specifically 1952) the amazing Cinerama film process premiered with “This is Cinerama”, and for the next ten years moviegoers lined up to hurl down a rollercoaster, cling tight on a runaway train, make a dangerous flyover at a volcano, even sit and watch an opera, in the comfort of roadshow seats. Three cameras filming in synchronization and mounted on a shell the size of a refrigerator captured a panorama of wonders from around the world. This undertaking was legitimized when three projectors, along with a fourth reel just for the multi-track sound, spread these vistas across a curved screen and across the country. Cinerama was a technical marvel…and not a small response to television!

Finally, after a decade of impressive travelogues, Cinerama joined forces with MGM. The objective: begin to produce films with actual stories using this immersive presentation. In June 1961, the popular LIFE Magazine series “How the West Was Won” began its transition to a giant of a western film; an all-star cast with three directors attached. A month later, George Pal began production on “The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm” and it would also employ more than one director. Henry Levin would handle the real-life dramatics, while Pal lent his gentle hand to the three fairy tales that would surround the story.

“Brothers Grimm” actually opened before “How the West Was Won” and got its share of kind but not outstanding reviews. The three fairy tales presented are not as dynamic as a Snow White or Cinderella, but of course those stories have been strongly “Disneyfied”, so it certainly made more sense to use less familiar subjects. What played between the tales could be another issue: the mixture of drama (including Wilhelm Grimm being deathly ill in the last half hour) sandwiched with “The Dancing Princess” or “The Singing Bone” seems a tough grind for an audience full of kids. But Russ Tamblyn is a major contributor to the fun aspects of the film, with terrific comedy, dancing and a few dangerous stunts.

With “Brothers Grimm” and "How the West Was Won", three strip Cinerama went out with positive memories, but it did go out. Audiences enjoyed it but directors and actors didn’t. A decent close up was out of the question, actors had to look past their subjects to make it appear normal for the camera, and cinematographers tried using several inventive ways to hide the join lines.(Trees and doorways were popular.) The rest of roadshow Cinerama would originate from various 70mm formats with an image squeeze to wrap around the curved screen. It was not quite the same, of course, but it brought success to epics like “Its a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” and “2001: A Space Odyssey”. (Viewing the Cinerama version of “2001”, one fell into space, a feeling not achieved with any regular 70mm version.)

Time had not been kind to “Brothers Grimm”. For many years, home video used a print down version (merging the three panels into a single strip) with less-than-stellar results. Indeed, it was tough to judge the merits of the film because (to use the words of the late Cinerama expert John Harvey) it became “The Grim World of the Brothers Wonderful”. A last hurrah occurred at a Cinerama Dome festival several years ago when a surviving three panel version played to grateful widescreen fans. Note: with both “Mad World” and the previously lost “The Golden Head” on the schedule, a few called the weekend “The Buddy Hackett Film Fest"! And Russ Tamblyn came to the rescue again when the film broke down for a few minutes and the movie’s wonderful woodsman filled the time with some behind-the-scenes stories.

That night, those who were not around for “Brothers Grimm”s initial Cinerama run discovered the glory previously hidden by its video version. The surviving print had rough spots but no matter; when the walk-out music began the Dome audience applauded with the attitude of “We’ve finally seen this film the way we were supposed to.”

And that, we all thought, was that.

Over the years, producer, editor (and showmanship expert) Dave Strohmaier has gathered the best technicians in film and video to transfer the original Cinerama films, including “How the West Was Won” for the Blu-Ray format. The results are nothing short of remarkable, and all those titles belong in a film fan’s library. In fact, “How the West Was Won” has become the standard Blu-Ray for setup according to many home theater buffs. But while that film’s elements were in excellent shape, some of “Brothers Grimm” was not. Determining that a photochemical restoration would be cost prohibitive, if not impossible, Dave Strohmaier, Tom March and an army of experts set out to create a new digital presentation of this abandoned work of widescreen art. The result is the best way to see George Pal’s 1962 effort since, well, 1962.

Like the Warner Archive's Blu-Ray of “How the West Was Won”, “Brothers Grimm” is a two disc set containing a “Letterboxed” presentation and a “Smilebox” version, that replicates the experience of seeing the film in its curved screen Cinerama glory. Choices like this are again another reason to appreciate the disc medium.

Most may agree that “Brothers Grimm” is one of George Pal’s most ambitious projects. But is it his greatest achievement? Probably not. Justin Humphreys, curator of the estate of George Pal, reflects that the film misses classic status, yet it does accomplish what Pal, Levin, MGM and Cinema set out to make: a colorful, lively, musical, family friendly event at the cinema. The money is up on the screen and the European locations are major attractions.

So the greatness is found, perhaps not in the film itself but certainly in this Blu-Ray presentation; many home theater enthusiasts consider “Brothers Grimm” the home video release of the year, and I agree. From the clarity of Leigh Harline’s Oscar-nominated score to Paul Vogel’s cinematography, the film sounds and looks like it was produced today. In fact, due to the richness of Technicolor, dare we say it looks better than much of what we see in theaters today.

Special features are spread over both discs; radio interviews, trailers, photo slideshows, a salute to William R. Forman, promotional artwork, a delightful mini-doc “The Wonderful Career of George Pal”. But the headliner is surely the 40-minute “Rescuing a Fantasy Classic” documentary, an in-depth look at the massive digital restoration.

Thanks to the Warner Archive, Dave Strohmaier, Tom March and the team involved, “The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm” has been given another opportunity to entertain and to live on…happily ever after.

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By Darren Allison

The Film Detective release the B movie classic, The Brain from Planet Arous on Blu-ray. The company continues to impress with their stable of underground, cult classics. Teenage monsters, juvenile gangs and deceitful femme fatales have all made it into their catalogue and have provided an excellent, wide range of pure entertainment. The Brain from Planet Arous (1957) is no exception.

Nathan Juran’s wonderful piece of science fiction hokum remains a firm favourite among B movie buffs. With a cast headed by John Agar and Joyce Meadows, the story finds Professor Steve March (Agar) in his laboratory with his assistant Dan Murphy (Robert Fuller). Both men are troubled by some unusual readings and bursts of radiation coming from the desert, specifically, the wonderfully named Mystery Mountain. Both are eager to head out there and inspect the situation as quickly as possible. Steve's fiancée, the domestic goddess Sally Fallon (Joyce Meadows) is fully behind the boys, but refuses to let them leave on empty stomachs, especially after preparing the perfect barbecue in the garden - what a gal!

Steve, Dan and a bellies full of hamburgers arrive in the desert to discover a newly-formed cave. As they begin to explore inside they are met by a large, telepathic, floating brain. The alien lifeform kills Dan and proceeds to enter the body of Steve. A week later, Steve returns home, concocting a story about Dan taking a break and taking off to Las Vegas. It soon becomes apparent that Steve is not acting in a normal manner , in fact, he’s become something of a horny sex pest, especially towards Sally, who he practically tries to rape at any given opportunity.

Steve has obviously become possessed by the alien brain (called Gor) (and is incidentally voiced by the film’s associate producer Dale Tate). The possessed Steve has become a power-mad tyrant who gleefully blows passenger planes from the sky or deights in destroying entire towns with his newly- found powers and abilities.

It’s all wonderful material and a complete joy to absorb. Agar really seems to be enjoying this role. After so often portraying the clean-cut, all-American hero, he appears to relish the opportunity in playing the bad guy.

The Film Detective has provided a beautiful 4K restoration and the film looks incredible. There are two options to view it, either in a theatrical widescreen (1.85:1) ratio, or a straight-forward full frame (1.33:1) format. I would actually recommend the latter. After watching both versions, the full frame version seems to retain a greater element of fine detail, but of course this is down to individual choice. The contrast and depth offered in the black and white photography really shines through, as does the lovely clean audio track.

Extras on this special edition are also very enjoyable, and this is where I believe The Film Detective really notches up the fun factor. Their presentations always carry a firm tongue-in-cheek element. These films were never going to be multi-Oscar winners, and The Film Detective recognises that - but never without a lack of respect. There is a terrific commentary track featuring the always enthusiastic and knowledgeable film historian Tom Weaver, Monstrous Movie Music’s David Schecter (who released a great re-recording of the score and whose CD I still recommend) and the lovely Joyce Meadows joins in with the memories of making the movie. In fact, Joyce Meadows also has her own featurette / introduction on the disc, ‘Not the same Brain’,which finds her recreating her role as Sally, visiting locations and basically having a great deal of fun with it all. There are also a couple more featurettes, ‘The Man before the Brain: Director Nathan Juran’ and ‘The Man Behind the Brain: The World of Nathan Juran’. Both are original Ballyhoo productions, and despite some overlapping information between them both, they are nevertheless insightful and enjoyable. Also inside there is an excellent 10- page booklet featuring an essay by Tom Weaver, ‘The Brains Behind the Brain: The Sci-Fi Career of Producer Jacques Marquette’.

The Film Detective are on a fine roll of releases of late, and I only hope they continue on the same path. They have captured a format that really works in both their choices of titles and their presentation.

(Darren Allison is the Soundtracks Editor for Cinema Retro. Read his column in every issue.)

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By Fred Blosser

Every career starts somewhere. In 1948, Rock Hudson’s began under contract at Universal International Pictures with bit roles like “second lieutenant” and “detective.” By 1953, thanks to his good looks, ambition, an influential agent, and shrewd beefcake publicity, he progressed to star billing in the studio’s assembly line of budget-conscious but colorful Westerns and costume adventures. By and large those productions are little remembered today, but they served two immediate purposes as they were designed to do. For Universal International, they made modest profits in movie theatres where weary working-class families flocked on weekends for splashy Technicolor entertainment. For Hudson, a novice actor, they provided valuable on-the-job training and popular visibility—prerequisites for better paying, more prestigious film credits to come.

Three of those journeyman films were “Seminole,” “The Golden Blade,” and “Bengal Brigade,” available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber Studio Classics, in a boxed set as a “Rock Hudson Collection.” If you’re a younger viewer who wonders what Grandma and Grandad did for movie escapism before Marvel Comics and Tom Cruise, these will give you a good idea. Viewers with the time and stamina may decide to watch the entire set in one binge sitting of 255 minutes. If so, one thing will become apparent. Even spread across three genres, the storylines and casts don’t differ much. In the studio system of the early Eisenhower years, Universal International could make its B-movies quickly and cheaply by rushing its contract players like Hudson from one backlot set to another in formulaic scripts.

In “Seminole” (1953), the actor stars as Second Lt. Lance Caldwell, an Army officer who hopes to avert a war with the Seminole Indians of 1835 Florida. But his superior officer, Major Degan (Richard Carlson, effectively cast against type as a bristly martinet), has other ideas. When Degan and Caldwell lead an expedition into the swamp to confront the Indians, the troop is ambushed. Captured, Lance finds that the Seminoles have their own split between pacifists and war-mongers. Lance’s friend, Chief Osceola (Anthony Quinn), wants to sign a treaty even if it means uprooting the tribe. An influential warrior, Kajeck (Hugh O’Brian), won’t settle for anything less than armed victory over Degan and his troops. With the Army routed, the territory’s white settlers will clear out fast.

Like most 1950s Westerns, the plot is generic. Except for the Everglades setting, the Seminole might as well be Apache, Cheyenne, or Sioux, played by white actors in body paint. Indian wars are the fault of hot-heads on both sides, not the result of orchestrated land-grabs by the U.S. government as was usually the case in real life. The swamps are a combination of on-location footage in the Everglades and a backlot set where Hudson dutifully slogs through bogs and creeks with supporting players James Best, Russell Johnson, and another actor who started small and ended big, Lee Marvin. Those scenes give director Budd Boetticher and his cast a chance to flex some macho muscle, even though the studio swamp looks about as sweltering and nasty as a Magic Kingdom theme park. Hudson and Boetticher would go on to better Westerns, Hudson with Robert Aldrich’s “The Last Sunset” and Boetticher in five iconic pictures with Randolph Scott.

“The Golden Blade” (1953) puts Hudson in familiar Arabian Nights

surroundings as Haroun, a merchant’s son from Basra who travels to Baghdad to avenge his father’s death in an attack by bandits. In fact, the “bandits” were assassins secretly dispatched by Jafar (George Macready), the caliph’s scheming vizier, to provoke a war between the two cities. This is part of a scheme by Jafar that also includes promoting a marriage between his loutish son Haji (Gene Evans), the captain of the palace guard, and Princess Khairuzan (Piper Laurie). Once Haji becomes regent, agents from “Basra” will murder the caliph and the princess, and Haji will inherit the throne as Jafar’s puppet. Haroun is under-matched against Haji, the greatest swordsman in Baghdad, until he finds a magic sword in the medieval Baghdad equivalent of a Goodwill thrift shop.

Given that Piper Laurie had recently made two almost identical films with Tony Curtis, “The Prince Who Was a Thief” (1951) and “Son of Ali Baba” (1952), “The Golden Blade” was already familiar material by 1953. Some scenes were lifted from an even earlier Universal production, 1944’s “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,” a common cost-saving tactic by the studio in the early 1950s. Minus the sword fights, there isn’t a lot of difference, either, between “The Golden Blade” and your eight-year-old's favourite, “Disney’s Aladdin”; even the villainous viziers in both movies are named Jafar. It’s easy to make fun of old-fashioned B-level swashbucklers like this, but the director, Nathan Juran, mounts the action scenes well, and the Technicolor reds, greens, purples, and blues are sumptuous in their hi-def clarity. Casting Gene Evans as the secondary bad guy may seem like an odd call, since most of us fondly remember the veteran character actor for scores of Westerns and war dramas, but Evans’ bullish persona gives the character a knowingly humorous edge. When Piper Laurie’s spirited princess complains, “Men are able to roam freely, while we women are trapped in the harem,” the harried housewives of 1953 probably agreed.

Hudson landed the starring role in “Bengal Brigade” (1954) after Tyrone Power turned down the part; Power had already played a similar character in 20th Century Fox’s “King of the Khyber Rifles.” At a siege of a rebellious native fort in 1856 India, British Captain Jeffrey Claybourne disobeys an order by Colonel Morrow (Torin Thatcher) to retreat under heavy fire, attacking instead. Claybourne’s company of native Indian soldiers had walked into an ambush, and the captain’s action saves their lives at the cost of his military career and his engagement to the colonel’s daughter (Arlene Dahl). Claybourne resigns and knocks around India as a big-game hunter (on a jungle set likely repurposed from the swamp in “Seminole”), when he’s approached by a devious Indian rajah (Arnold Moss). The rajah is gathering a private army for an uprising against the British, and he offers the disillusioned Claybourne a well-paid commission to train his recruits.

Although British rule in India ended in 1947, the movies continued to celebrate the “sun never sets” colonial tradition into the 1950s and even beyond. If you expect that “Bengal Brigade” will cue the opening notes of “Rule Britannia” from the studio’s stock library of music, you’ll be right on the money, and you won’t have to wait long. Given today’s wide availability of Indian actors, the old practice of hiring whites to play native Indians seems outdated and demeaning, but you’d have come up empty in 1953 to find a Priyanka Chopra or Irrfan Khan in central casting. The only exceptions here are performers Sujata and Asoka Rubener in a brief, non-speaking dance routine. At that, Arnold Moss as the rajah and Michael Ansara as Claybourne’s native sergeant offer more nuanced performances than the Rule Britannia music might suggest. Anyway, before you attack old Hollywood for its insular ways, just remember that even today, few Steven Spielberg fans wince at the unvarnished chauvinism of “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.”

The “Rock Hudson Collection” includes theatrical trailers for all three films and fine audio commentary on two of them by Nick Pinkerton (“Seminole”) and Phillipa Berry (“The Golden Blade”).

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

After the Golden Era of Universal monster movies in the 1930s and 40s, the cinematic fiends were largely relegated to "B" movie status. In the mid-1950s, Hammer Films, a production company founded in 1934, discovered there was gold in them 'thar monsters and moved away from the largely nondescript, low-budget films they were known for in favor of the horror and science fiction movies that would quickly define the Hammer legacy. The studio brought to the screen the first color movies featuring Dracula, Frankenstein and The Mummy, not to mention Sherlock Holmes ("The Hound of the Baskervilles"). The British company kept censors on their toes with an ample supply of busty beauties and a good sampling of bloody set pieces. Audiences that were starved for adult-oriented fare in these genres responded with enthusiasm and Hammer continued to supply a good number of hit films on relatively modest budgets. By the 1970s, new screen freedoms resulted in plenty of prurient cinematic films and the shocking aspects of the Hammer films seemed mundane. Consequently, the studio began to up the ante, substituting more sex and violence in place of the production qualities and fine scripts that had been the hallmark of earlier films. By the 1980s, the company was through and existed only as a legal entity. Over the decades, rumors of a comeback drifted through the film industry with no sign of a resurrection. Under a new management team in the 2000s, Hammer rose from the grave and began making films once again. They had a critically acclaimed boxoffice hit in 2012 with the refreshingly traditional ghost story "The Woman in Black" starring Daniel Radcliffe but the output since has proven to be sporadic and erratic.

One "modern" Hammer production that merits some attention is the largely-ignored "The Tenant", released in 2011. Two-time Oscar winner Hilary Swank stars as New York Emergency Room doctor Juliet Devereau. Like many Gotham residents, she's on the hunt for an affordable apartment in a city that practically requires a supply of gold bullion to pay the rent. She seems to strike pay dirt with her discovery of a large old building that has a cavernous apartment for rent at the "affordable" price of $3800 a month (and this was in 2011). The place was once an office building but it is being painstakingly and slowly restored by its owner, Max (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), a somewhat shy, polite and rather hunky young guy who lives in the building with his grandfather August (Hammer icon Christopher Lee). In fact, they appear to be the only residents, as Max only has one apartment available for rent. Juliet falls in love with the place. It's huge by Manhattan standards. Max points out the negative aspects: he is working long hours on the restoration which requires much of the building to appear unsightly. It's also a noisy process. Additionally, the elevated subway runs almost directly past her bedroom window. Undeterred, Juliet enthusiastically rents the place. It's close to work and affords an atmosphere of solitude and charm. But you know the way these things go in a Hammer film.

Max is rather shy but extremely polite and he's always on hand to carry out any household-related requests. Juliet finds him attractive and before long she is in bed with Max. But before any hanky panky takes place, she thinks the better of becoming romantically involved with her landlord and abruptly puts an end to their dalliance. She just wants to be friends, as she's also nursing the wounds from breaking up with her longtime boyfriend Jack (Lee Pace). Max remains polite but we see he is carrying a lot of psychological baggage. Juliet's rejection of him leads to a meltdown. Before long, he's going the full Norman Bates route, using assorted peepholes that allows him to see the object of his desire as she moves about her apartment. Then things get really dangerous for Juliet.

On one level, "The Resident" is just another "young woman in jeopardy" movie pitting our heroine against a creepy stalker. But director Antti Jokenen is a cut above the directors of similar, disposable films. Aided by fine performances by Swank (who executive produced) and Morgan, he is able to elevate the movie above many entries in this genre. As with numerous Hitchcock films, this one seems intent on demonstrating that there isn't necessarily safety in numbers. The teeming streets of Manhattan lay only yards away, but Juliet ultimately finds herself very much alone and isolated when her life is at stake. By the time the inevitable confrontation with her tormentor finally comes, Jokenen's slow-boil approach has resulted in a considerable degree of nail-biting suspense. It's too bad the film becomes a bit cliched in the final moments (whenever a power tool is shown in a flick such as this, you know someone is going to end up using it as a deadly weapon.) It's also a bit disappointing that Christopher Lee (in his final Hammer film) is not given more screen time. It's a joy to see him on screen, but he has little to do and is primarily only seen in the early part of the movie. Nevertheless, there are other merits including outstanding cinematography by Guillermo Navarro and creative editing by Oscar winner Bob Murawski. There's also an appropriately eerie score by John Ottman and a literate script by Jokinen and Robert Orr. Special kudos to Production Designer J. Dennis Washington, for his creative design of the apartment house and its underlying secret passages.The film was shot in only 30 days, with interiors filmed in a studio in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Considering the talent involved, it's surprising that "The Resident" went straight to video in America and didn't make much of a splash in that realm. Since Cinema Retro likes to make readers aware of worthy and overlooked films, I can recommend "The Tenant". It is by no means a horror classic, but it deserved a far better fate.

The film is currently streaming on Amazon Prime. Click here to order on Blu-ray from Amazon.

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM CINEMA RETRO'S ARCHIVES

(This article has been revised and updated from its original version.)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

The Fourth of July seems to be an appropriate day to revisit our review of one of the most savaged films of its times- and to re-evaluate many merits that were initially overlooked.

It certainly isn't unusual for studios to invest money in director's cuts of films that were critical and box-office successes, but in a highly unusual move, Warner Home Video has made it possible for director Hugh Hudson and star Al Pacino to revisit and improve upon one of the most notorious box-office bombs of all time: the 1985 epic Revolution. The film was ravaged by critics and a disinterested public virtually ensured the movie would go down in the annals of Hollywood financial disasters. Yet, like Heaven's Gate, it's a film that is often mocked by people who probably haven't even seen it. I had only viewed it once - when it was first released on VHS. With the widescreen image cropped and the shoddy transfer work that was the rule during those dark days of the pre-DVD era, I was not impressed with the movie- though I felt it had far more qualities than its reputation might indicate. The story centers on Tom Dobb, a poor widower who comes to New York City with his young son Ned to sell his furs. He finds the city in a state of revolutionary fervor, as colonists are on the verge of all-out rebellion against King George. Dobb is apolitical, but soon he and his son are ensnared by the events of the day and are virtually forced to serve in the rapidly-formed colonial army. The plot follows father and son through the early days of the revolution, when independence seemed to be a foolish dream. George Washington's forces lost most of the major battles and the troops starved and froze before the tide of battle turned.

There are two other major characters in the film: Daisy (Nastassja Kinski), a rebellious teenager disowned by her Tory family for obsessively fighting for the cause of the revolutionaries, and Sgt. Maj. Peasy (Donald Sutherland), a soft-spoken but sadistic British officer with a penchant for molesting little drummer boys. In the original version of the film, director Hugh Hudson (fresh from acclaim for Chariots of Fire and Greystoke, The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes) found himself under great pressure from the financing team that was backing the film. He had to make some drastic artistic compromises and knew full well that the finished film released to theaters was far from his original vision. What he didn't expect was the sheer venom extended to his movie. The criticism was scathing and much of it was directed at star Al Pacino, who garnered the worst reviews of his career. There was little mention of the magnificent battle scene, the outstanding production design or the stirring score. The film vanished from theaters and both director and star suffered career set-backs.  

The new version of the film is titled Revolution Revisited and benefits extensively from the mere fact it looks terrific in the DVD format. Hudson cut about five minutes of the film (including the sappy ending that was forced on him by the producers)  and more crucially, added a narration by Pacino that ties up many loose ends and makes the story far more coherent. (One complaint: Pacino virtually whispers the narration, making it difficult to hear without the sound cranked up full volume.) Nevertheless, the movie deserves a re-evaluation and I have to say that it now plays wonderfully. Hudson's skill at handling the epic qualities of the story, without sacrificing the human aspect, is far more apparent with the new version. The performances are all first rate, even if the characters are still a bit sketchy. (Pacino and Kinski keep bumping into each other in the most unlikely places, though it's never explained why their brief encounters lead to an obsessive love affair.) Hudson's use of the hand-held camera during the main battle sequence was scoffed at by critics, but today it is standard practice - and adds immeasurably to the feeling of realism. Assheton Gorton's production design is truly superb and transplants you back into the era with a feeling of conviction.

In addition to the original trailer (which shows some of the cut final scene), the DVD has a very unique featurette- a recent sit down, causal conversation between Hudson and Pacino in which they candidly discuss what went wrong with the first version of the film. Both agreed it was too hurried and was confusing. Pacino expresses amazement that he was mocked for his accent in the film, even though it was carefully worked on with the aid of historians to ensure accuracy. He also points out this was the only film he had made that was not of a relatively contemporary nature and his was disappointed to learn his audience would not accept him in a historical epic. Both he and Hudson admit the film damaged their careers and they didn't work again for years. This type of candor is all too rare and quite refreshing in the realm of DVD documentaries. Pacino says there are no other films he is as defensive of and so enthusiastic about revisiting to give it a second chance. The conversation lets us in on several juicy bits of trivia - Sylvester Stallone wanted the lead role in this, and Al Pacino had been offered the role of Rambo.

It sounds like a cliche, but you haven't seen Revolution until you've seen the new, improved version. I don't want to overstate the movie's merits. This isn't some under-appreciated classic and some of its primary flaws remain. However, there is much to value here that was overlooked in the original version of the film and only improved upon in the director's cut. Hardcore Cinema Retro readers will be especially appreciative of Hudson's achievement and the massive scale of the film in that glorious era that preceded CGI.  Given the passage of time, I believe the critics were wrong about this one - and so was I.

(The U.S. DVD is now out-of-print but can be found on eBay. The film is currently available for streaming rental or purchase on Amazon. A Region 2 PAL format Blu-ray/DVD edition can be ordered from Amazon here.)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Casting young Robert Mitchum in a crime thriller opposite two beautiful leading ladies would seem to be a recipe for a successful film. However, "Foreign Intrigue" manages to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory by saddling the actors with a cumbersome, confusing screenplay. Mitchum is cast as Dave Bishop, an American personal secretary/press agent in the employ of Victor Danemore (Jean Galland), a mysterious rich man who lives lavishly on the French Riviera. When Danemore dies from a heart attack, Bishop becomes intrigued by the mysteries of the man's life and how little he actually knew about him. Even Danemore's young trophy wife Dominique (Genevieve Page) claims to have been a wife in name only and was, in fact, a "kept woman" intended to give Danemore a respectable social status. When Bishop is approached by an assortment of strange characters all of whom are concerned about secrets Danemore may have kept pertaining to their lives, he begins to investigate who his employer really was and why there is consternation in some circles regarding his death. In the process, Bishop not only becomes romantically involved with Dominique but also with Brita (Ingrid Thulin, billed here as "Ingrid Tulean"), a vivacious young woman whose father was being blackmailed by Danemore for reasons unknown. Bishop's investigation turns deadly as he gets nearer the truth with attempts made on his life by mysterious strangers. It turns out that Danemore had been blackmailing prominent European men who had been secretly in league with Hitler. Ultimately, Bishiop is kidnapped by intelligence officials who ask him to volunteer to unmask the collaborators on a mission that could cost him his life.

"Foreign Intrigue" was the brainchild of producer/director/screenwriter Sheldon Reynolds, who had produced a successful TV series of the same title. He saw potential in spinning off the property to a feature film and shot the production on some exotic European locations in color, though the bulk of the movie was filmed in a studio. The story starts off on an intriguing note but soon becomes confusing with the addition of seemingly countless minor characters and red herrings. Even when the main mystery is solved, I found myself still uncertain as to certain characters' relationship to the plot and each other. Although the role of Bishop would seem tailor-made for Robert Mitchum, director Reynolds doesn't showcase the actor's trademark persona as a cynical wiseguy. He can handle himself well in the action scenes and Reynolds makes sure Mitchum has the requisite opportunity to parade around shirtless, but what is missing is the actor's "bad boy" image. His leading ladies are well-cast and Frederick O'Brady is marvelous as a Peter Lorre-like man of mystery but Mitchum and his co-stars suffer from the film's often slow pace. The movie picks up steam towards the finale but the climax is undermined by an absurd scene that is unintentionally funny. It involves Bishop meeting the villain one-on-one in the dead of night on a street in Vienna. Due to plot contrivances, virtually every other character manages to show up, making the secret meeting look like a convention. Adding to the absurdity is the fact that although the scene is set in one of the world's bustling cities, the landscape looks like the opening  of "The Omega Man" with nary a single living soul or moving vehicle seen anywhere. "Foreign Intrigue" will mostly appeal to Mitchum enthusiasts who will be satisfied by his considerable screen presence even in a film that doesn't reach its potential.

(Incidentally, although the film's credits state that Genevieve Page and Ingrid Thulin were "introduced" in this film, in fact, both actresses had a number of screen credits prior to appearing in "Foreign Intrigue". This was a common - if deceitful- marketing ploy frequently used by movie studios during the era.) 

The film is currently streaming on Amazon Prime free for subscribers.

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By Fred Blosser

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(If you want to view the film in a larger screen format, click here.)

BY JOHN M. WHALEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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(Check out John M. Whalen's blog)

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

(If you want to view the film in a larger screen format, click here).

BY LEE PFEIFFER

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

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

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

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

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

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

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

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

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

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

BY LEE PFEIFFER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Synopsis

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

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BY DOUG OSWALD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Love and Bullets is a 1979 Charles Bronson starrer that Roger Ebert appropriately described at the time as "an assemblyline potboiler". The film initially showed promise. Originally titled Love and Bullets, Charlie, the movie had John Huston as its director. However, Huston left after "creative differences" about the concept of the story and its execution on screen. The absurdity of losing a director as esteemed as Huston might have been understandable if the resulting flick wasn't such a mess. However, one suspects that, whatever the conceptual vision Huston had for the movie may have been, it must have been superior to what ultimately emerged. Stuart Rosenberg, the competent director of Cool Hand Luke took over but was unable to create anything more than a sub-par action movie. The plot finds Bronson as a Phoenix cop who is reluctantly sent to Switzerland on an undercover assignment. The local prosecutor has been doggedly trying to convict a local mob kingpin (Rod Steiger) for years. Now it appears that his moll girlfriend (Jill Ireland) might be a viable witness in terms of spilling the beans about his operations.  Thus, Steiger has stashed her abroad and is keeping her under constant watch. Bronson's job is to pretend he is also a mob guy and convince Ireland to return with him to Phoenix to testify against her lover. The movie seems to exist for one reason only: the main participants desired a paid working vacation in Switzerland. This concept is nothing new. The Rat Pack squeezed in filming Oceans Eleven almost as an afterthought while they were performing nightly in Las Vegas at the Sands casino. In the twilight of his years, John Ford famously got his stock company together for a jaunt to Hawaii and released the result as a big boxoffice hit called Donovan's Reef, which still must retain the status of being the most expensive home movie ever made. 

Love and Bullets is such a lazy effort you have to believe it must have taken a great deal of effort for the cast to meander to the set every day. The film also illustrates the danger of love-struck leading men force-feeding the lady in their lives into virtually every movie they make. Clint Eastwood shoe-horned Sondra Locke into a string of his films in the 1970s and 1980s and while some of them were artistic and commercial successes, I always greeted their next teamING with a sense of bored inevitability. (Locke was also a prime perpetrator in the creation of the worst movie of Eastwood's career, The Gauntlet.) In this case, Ireland had been Mrs. Bronson for over a decade following her divorce from David McCallum. She was always a competent enough actress but the couple obviously envisioned themselves as a new William Powell/Myrna Loy teaming. Not quite. Bronson is on full automatic pilot, registering almost no emotion. Ireland overplays the role of bubble-headed moll to an embarrassing level, as though she is a character in a sitcom sketch. She is saddled with intentionally laughable fright wigs but the real joke comes when she decides to discard them for her natural hair style, which proves to be even less flattering. Absurdity piles upon absurdity as the film becomes one long, extended chase sequence with Bronson and Ireland squabbling like Ralph and Alice Kramden, if you can imagine The Honeymooners being pursued by assassins. Steiger is in full scenery-chewing mode and an impressive array of supporting actors (Val Avery, Michael V. Gazzo, Henry Silva and Strother Martin) are pretty much wasted along the way. I'm generally undemanding when it comes to the pleasures of watching an unpretentious Charles Bronson action movie but Love and Bullets represents the latter period of his career where he rarely even tried to elevate his films beyond being vehicles for an easy pay check.

(The film is currently streaming on Shout! Factory TV and the app and subscription are also available through Amazon Prime Video.) 

BY FRED BLOSSER

“Son of Samson,” an Italian production from the wave of sword-and-toga or “peplum” movies in the early 1960s, has been released by Kino Lorber Studio Classics in a Blu-ray edition. When you hit “play,” don’t be alarmed when a different title, “Maciste nella Valle de Re,” appears instead. It’s the same picture. “Maciste nella valle de Re” or “Maciste in the Valley of the Kings” was the original title in Italy, where director Carlo Campogalliani’s production opened on Nov. 24, 1960. There, “Maciste” had a nostalgic fan base among older filmgoers who fondly remembered the super-strong defender of justice and freedom from an iconic series of silent movies (1914-1927). The 75-year-old Campogalliani had directed three of the original Maciste pictures, and rebooting the character had long been his pet project. The recent success of Steve Reeves’ first muscleman epics, “Hercules” (1958) and “Hercules Unchained” (1959), finally provided the go-ahead.

Since “Maciste” carried no brand-name value here, “Son of Samson” became the title for the dubbed, slightly edited version that opened in New York on June 2, 1962. The new title shrewdly reminded ticket-buyers of Cecil B. DeMille’s popular “Samson and Delilah” (1950), from which the script lifted a couple of incidental situations. Also, with its biblical connotation, “Son of Samson” was designed to placate moralist watchdogs in conservative small towns. It was okay to ogle a sexy leading lady in skimpy, navel-baring harem outfits and an oiled-up, nearly naked hero, as long as the Good Book somehow fit into the scenario. DeMille had virtually pioneered the same tactic. Never mind that “Son of Samson” had no narrative connection to the DeMille picture. For that matter, it really had no religious elements at all. With its second-unit visuals of the pyramids and other desert monuments, It might just as easily have been retitled “Samson Meets Cleopatra” to exploit current publicity around Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s “Cleopatra,” which was still a year away from release. The “new” Maciste was so popular in Italy that more films followed, in which Mark Forest was followed in the role by Kirk Morris and Gordon Scott, among others. Later, several of the pictures were packaged with other peplums for syndicated TV broadcast in America as “Sons of Hercules” and “Gladiator Theatre.”

In Campogalliani’s movie, Maciste (Mark Forest) wanders through Egypt in the 5th Century B.C. looking for good deeds to perform. When he’s attacked by lions, he kills one with his bare hands (like Victor Mature’s Samson in the DeMille picture) and is saved from the other by an archer who turns out to be Kenamun, the Pharaoh’s son. Kenamun and his father Armiteo try to keep their cruel Persian vizier from oppressing the common folk, but Armiteo’s trophy wife Smedes (Chelo Alonso) secretly throws in with the vizier. They murder the Pharaoh, put Kenamun under a spell, and dispatch their troops to round up unoffending peasants for brutal slave labor. Maciste steps in to rescue the villagers, including pretty sisters Tekaet and Nofret, and break Smedes’ spell over Kenamun. Unlike the heroes in today’s movie franchises, Maciste doesn’t brood over a tortuous back-story involving daddy issues, murdered parents, or remorse over past misdeeds. Asked why he spends his time helping poor people for no personal gain, he simply answers, “It is my destiny.” In that more innocent era of movie entertainment, no further explanation was required. When Maciste and Smedes meet in the palace, she tries to seduce him with a slinky belly dance, and we visit an ingenious execution chamber known as “The Cell of Death.” There, if you somehow escape being crushed between two closeable walls, you’ll fall into a pool of crocodiles. The script by prolific screenwriters Oreste Biancoli and Ennio De Concini faithfully observes Chekhov’s famous dictum. If a Cell of Death appears in the story, someone must perish there before the final credits roll.

The print of “Son of Samson” presented by Kino Lorber is the Italian version with a dubbed English voice track. It includes a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s bare breasts (full disclosure, in case you’re curious . . . not Chelo Alonso’s) that was censored out of the American print. Even here, it speeds by so fast it seems to be optically blurred. Older fans will be glad to see hunky Mark Forest and super-hot Chelo Alonso again in peak trim, although the simplistic plot is a reminder that the Italian sword-and-toga movies (even a better-budgeted one like this, seen in proper Totalscope and Technicolor presentation after years of abysmal “Gladiator Theatre” prints) tend not to live up to our youthful memories when we revisit them many years later. The Marvel Studios generation may squirm at the old-fashioned pace of the script, and wonder why the laconic hero doesn’t brush off various perils with a stream of clever quips.

Nevertheless, if you can get your 12-year-old kid brother, son, nephew, or grandson to sit still long enough, he’ll learn that the basics for luring audiences to the ticket booth haven’t changed all that much since 1960, whether the buffed-up guy in the poster is Mark Forest, Arnold Schwarzenegger, or Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. Millennial sword-and-toga dramas like the “300” movies (2006 and 2014) and cable’s “Spartacus” series (2010-13) have more nudity and graphic carnage, but still, at the end of the day, it’s all about the abs.

The Kino Lorber release includes captioning and an excellent, insightful, spirited audio commentary from movie guys David Del Valle and Michael Varrati.

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

Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Liberty Hall Video:

ROBOCOP: THE SERIES

Release date: May 10

FORMATS:

Blu-ray box set - 5 discs, $59.95 (LIB-4028 / 089353402822)

TV series runtime: Approximately 17 hours

DVD box set - 5 discs, $49.95 (LIB-4024 / 089353402426)

TV series runtime: Approximately 17 hours

SYNOPSIS:

In 1994, after three films in the franchise, the popular sci-fi action character RoboCop debuted in his own television series. Produced by Canada's Skyvision Entertainment, RoboCop: The Series starred Richard Eden in the title role. An 89-minute pilot aired in two parts in March,followed by 21 one-hour episodes. Aimed at a younger audience, the series dialed back the graphic violence of the first two movies and displayed a tone similar in feel to RoboCop 3. Many of the events and plotlines seen in the films were discarded, with RoboCop: The Series acting as a reset for the once human, now cyborg police officer. The series' theme song, "A Future to This Life," was performed by rock legends Joe Walsh and Lita Ford. Additionally, the series included songs by the Band, Dave Edmunds, Nicky Hopkins, Iron Butterfly, KC and the Sunshine Band, and Todd Rundgren, among others.

DETAILS:

Both the Blu-ray and DVD box sets feature the pilot film, all 21 original episodes, and bonus features. For the DVD, audio is Dolby Digital stereo and the aspect ratio is 16:9 pillarboxed 4:3 (1.33:1) which matches the original broadcast aspect ratio. For the Blu-ray, audio is LPCM stereo and the aspect ratio is 16:9 (1.77:1). The picture has been modified from its original broadcast aspect ratio to fill a 16:9 aspect ratio. | Color | 1994 | Region Free

BONUS FEATURES:

'Behind the Scenes' featurette | Toy commercial | Photo gallery | Cast profiles for actors Richard Eden, Lisa Madigan, Andrea Roth, Sarah Campbell & David Gardner | 'From Cinema to the Small Screen' featurette | 'The Future of Law Enforcement: The History of RoboCop' featurette | 'Put Down Your Weapon: The Auto 9 Gun' featurette | 'The Car' featurette | 'The Suit' featurette

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lorber has released the 1975 Charles Bronson crime thriller "Breakout" as a Blu-ray special edition. Bronson was riding high at the time, coming off the sensational success of "Death Wish". The film was originally supposed to star Kris Kristofferson under the direction of Michael Ritchie but those plans soon fell apart. Bronson took over the lead role with veteran director Tom Gries at the helm. The film finds Bronson well-cast as Nick Colton, a shady businessman/con man/grifter who operates a variety of small time business ventures on the Mexican border with his partner Hawk Hawkins (pre-kooky Randy Quaid.) Nick is living hand-to-mouth when he is approached by Ann Wagner (Jill Ireland) with a proposition to help her husband, equally shady rich guy Jay (Robert Duvall), escape from a Mexican prison where he has been sentenced after being framed for a murder. Time is of the essence because Jay is in declining health and may well be too weak to help effect his own escape. Colton and Hawk's first attempt to spring him ends disastrously and they barely escape back to America. Colton concocts an audacious plan for a second escape attempt that involves split-second timing. He will arrange for a helicopter to land in the courtyard of the prison and in the inevitable confusion, Jay is to make his way on board and presumably fly away to freedom. In order to pull off the caper, Nick enlists the help of a professional helicopter pilot as well as Myrna (Sheree North), a married ex-call girl who will be used to distract some of the guards when the copter lands inside the prison. When the pilot gets cold feet, Nick is forced to fly the chopper himself despite the fact that he only has minimum experience doing so. Another complication ensues when Jay is confined to the prison hospital and doubts he will be able to be in the courtyard at the precise moment Colton lands. 

"Breakout" was inspired by an incredible 1971 real life escape in which an American was indeed rescued by helicopter from a Mexican prison.  The screenplay has some other sub-plots that are poorly developed and quite confusing, but some of which are obviously related to the actual escape including some rumored involvement by the CIA. In the film, Jay Wagner's frame-up takes place at the behest of his evil tycoon grandfather, Harris Wagner (John Huston) for reasons that never become clear. Apparently, Harris is concerned that Jay may inherit some control over the company Harris runs with an iron fist, though these plot points remain murky as does the involvement of some CIA characters.  Another potential plot device, which finds Nick and Ann obviously attracted to each other, also goes nowhere. The film has a rushed look to it and there are some unsatisfying aspects caused by the movie's rather abrupt ending. The movie studio, Columbia, apparently felt the film was a rather weak production and thus gambled on a massive ad campaign that probably cost more than the film's modest budget. Ads for "Breakout" were everywhere: in newspapers, on TV and on radio. Additionally, the film opened wide in 1,000 American theaters, which was a big number in 1975. The movie was dismissed by critics with Variety calling it a "cheap exploitation pic", and indeed the main poster artwork (different from the Blu-ray sleeve artwork) and graphics looked surprisingly amateurish considering this was a golden age for film poster designs. Nevertheless, Bronson's appeal seemed to override these negative factors. "Breakout" proved to be a major hit and helped cement his status as a top boxoffice attraction , though his clout would gradually diminish henceforth. 

Like a lot of older movies, "Breakout" probably plays better today than it did at the time of its initial release. Bronson is in top form and gives an unusually energetic performance that allows him to stress his rarely-used talent for light comedy. The only other standout member of the cast is Sheree North, as the epitome of the sexy cougar. She's a fast-talking, tough cookie who parades about in sexy lingerie in an attempt to seduce Bronson. (Surprisingly, Bronson's character does not engage in any sexual action throughout the movie.) Robert Duvall is largely underutilized in a low-key role and performance that could have been credibly played by almost any other competent actor.  Huston's presence in the movie is disappointing, also. His role is confined to a few scattered cameo appearances that probably don't last more than two minutes. Some other familiar faces include Paul Mantee, Alejandro Rey, Roy Jenson and the Mexican cinema's favorite bad guy, Emilio Fernandez. As for Bronson teaming for the umpteenth time with real life wife Jill Ireland, the gimmick was wearing thin. Some screen couples could team without wearing out their welcome. Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton made many films together but they were always playing entirely different characters in entirely different scenarios. Bronson and Ireland, despite being competent actors, were no Liz and Dick. It became clear that their films together were largely made possible by Bronson's clout with the studios. Although Ireland always gave credible performances, she never lit up the screen. After a while the sheer predictability of their on-screen teamings probably undermined Bronson's popularity because it constrained him from interacting with other actresses. It was a trap Clint Eastwood also fell into for a period of time when he cast Sondra Locke in the female lead in six of his movies over a period of only seven years. Despite these gripes, it must be said that director Tom Gries keeps the pace moving briskly and there isn't a dull moment. He also knows how to milk some genuine suspense out of the helicopter escape scene, which is exceptionally well photographed by the great cinematographer Lucien Ballard. Jerry Goldsmith also contributes a typically fine score. The movie was shot in a wide number of locations including California, Mexico, Spain and France, where the impressive edifice that serves as the prison is located.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray looks great and features a very informative commentary track by Paul Talbot, author of the excellent "Bronson's Loose" books, which analyze his action movies. There is also a trailer, TV spot and radio spot. In all, an impressive package for a fun '70s adventure flick. Recommended.

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BY JOHN M. WHALEN

When Trappist Monk Ambrose (Marty Feldman) is told by Brother Thelonious (Alfred Hyde-White), the abbot of the monastery, that he must go out into the world to raise $5,000 to pay off the church’s landlord, he begs him not to make him go. Ambrose was left on the monastery’s doorstep as an infant and has never set foot out in the real world. Universal’s “In God We Trust” (1980) is the story of what happens when a totally innocent character confronts a corrupt world, including and especially those who commercialize and capitalize on religion. In another sense, it’s also the story of Marty Feldman, the British comedian with the bulging eyeballs who believed you could tell the truth and make jokes about society’s sacred cows and not pay a price for it.

Feldman co-wrote (with Chris Allen), starred in and directed “In God We Trust,” (the full title of which is actually, “In God We Trust; Give Me That Prime Time Religion.”) It was the first film of a five-picture deal Feldman made with Universal after having a hit with “The Last Remake of Beau Geste” (1977), and his breakthrough role as Igor, the bug-eyed hunchback in Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein.” “In God We Trust” is a scathing satire on the big business of organized religion as practiced by TV evangelists. The film is prophetic in terms of how it predated the TV evangelist scandals of the mid-80s. Jim and Tammy Bakker, Jimmy Swaggart and others would go down in infamy soon after the film was released. (Although some infamy lasts longer than others. Jim Bakker is back on TV and Tammy is the subject of an Oscar-nominated film.) It also warned of the dangers of mixing church and state, something that has become part of American politics today.

The first person Brother Ambrose meets after he’s kicked out of the monastery is Reverend Sebastian Melmoth (Peter Boyle), a traveling minister who drives around in a church built on top of a truck. The reverend takes him to Los Angeles and sets up his stand selling Levitating Lazarus Dolls. “Step right up, sinners!” the reverend says. “Take a miracle home with you! Get your own Levitating Lazarus Doll! See him rise from the dead in the privacy of your own home!”

His next encounter is with a hooker with a heart of gold named Mary (Louise Lasser). She is, in fact, the first woman Ambrose ever met and he’s surprised when she tries to hide from cops by climbing up under his robe. When they stop at an outdoor lunch counter they have a fairly hilarious discussion about sex, in which he tells her he notices that girls are different from men. “You have legs and those bumpy bits.” He ends up staying in her apartment, sleeping on the sofa.

Next day he goes out to look for a job and is hired as a carpenter for P. Pilate Wholesale Religious Novelties, nailing little plastic Jesus figurines to wooden crucifixes. It’s not long until he has sex with Mary and goes into a church called The World Wide Church of Psychic Humiliation, and tries to confess his sins. But the priest’s hearing aid malfunctions and turns into a microphone blaring out Ambrose’s detailed confession to anyone in hearing distance. When he comes out of the church a crowd on the sidewalk gives him a big round of applause.

Ambrose next encounters TV evangelist Armageddon T. Thunderbird (Andy Kaufman), head of the Church of Divine Profit (CDP). The legendary Kaufman dressed in a White Elvis suit with a snow white bouffant hairdo piled on top of his head gives an amazing performance as a power mad preacher out to take over the world. He’s headquartered in a high rise office building that has a replica of the Capitol Dome on the roof. His private office is modeled after the White House Oval Office. There’s a side door that opens into a private room where Thunderbird converses with G.O.D., (General Operational Directorevator), a giant computer containing God himself (Richard Pryor).

The script contains some ruefully funny lines. When Ambrose tells world- weary hooker Mary that he thought the meek were supposed to inherit the earth, she tells him: “The meek may inherit the earth but not until the strong are finished with it. By that time, it won’t be worth having.”

Rev. Thunderbird gets to toss off one liners like: “You can fool some of the people all the time.” When he discovers Rev. Melmoth’s idea of a traveling church: “Mobile Churches!” he says. “Let’s run that up the crucifix and see who genuflects!” On the importance of money, he says: “It takes money to buy things. Who’s going to clothe you? J.C. or J.C. Penney?” He guilts his audience with: “God is in intensive care and who put him there? You did!”

Thunderbird builds a fleet of mobile churches, designed with familiar looking Golden Arches and a neon sign on top that keeps track of how many million souls are being saved every day. He dupes Ambrose into fronting the mobile church business by offering to pay off the monastery’s mortgage. Things seem to be going all Thunderbird’s way until Brother Ambrose has a private talk with G.O.D.

It’s hard to believe how critics back in 1980 dismissed “In God We Trust” as a total failure. Even Roger Ebert gave it one and a half stars and accused Feldman, among other things, of thinking that “characters will seem funny if you give them a funny name.” The movie deserved a better reception. That’s not to say it’s not without its flaws. A little more care could have been taken with continuity. Some scenes don’t seem to flow naturally into the next, and some of the comedy seems forced. But overall it’s a highly entertaining film that has something important to say.

Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray comes with an exceptional audio commentary by Feldman’s close friend, writer Alan Spencer, creator of the “Sledge Hammer” TV series (1986-1988). Spencer provides his explanation for “In God We Trust’s” failure at the box office. In one scene Thunderbird cites numerous three-letter conglomerates, starting with the Holy Trinity, including “ATT, RCA, GMC, ITT, IBM FBI, MCA, KKK . . . .“ Universal demanded that MCA, its parent company, be removed from the soundtrack. Feldman had the right of final cut in his contract and refused. According to Spencer, the studio cut Feldman’s legs out from under him by refusing to promote the film and compromised its distribution when it was released. On top of that they threw his five-movie deal out. Feldman was devastated. His next film, “Slapstick of Another Kind,” (1984) was a Jerry Lewis flop that Siskel and Ebert called the worst film of 1984. Feldman at least was spared hearing that. He died in 1982 of a heart attack in Mexico while on the set of “Yellowbeard” (1983), a pirate comedy starring Graham Chapman and Eric Idle. Mel Brooks took the high road and attributed his death to his habit of smoking five packs of cigarettes a day, drinking gallons of coffee and eating fried eggs every day.

The disc also includes a separate audio commentary by film historian and author Bryan Reesman. Reesman has a mile-a-minute style of delivery that sometimes is hard to keep up with but his commentary contains loads of information. There are a number of trailers included on the disc including a “Trailers from Hell” for “In God We Trust” with Alan Spencer.

This is an important Blu-ray release that hopefully will inspire a reevaluation of “In God We Trust.” Highly recommended.

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(Check out John M. Whalen's blog)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

The Warner Archive offers the 1961 low-budget Allied Artists production of Operation Eichmann on DVD. The film was clearly rushed into production in order to capitalize on the recent capture of the infamous Nazi war criminal who enthusiastically took up the assignment of how to orchestra the logistics of carrying out the Holocaust as part of Hitler's evil scheme to rid occupied Europe of Jews and others deemed undesirable by the Third Reich. The film opens with a chilling (but fictitious) statement by Eichmann, who threatens to oversee a revival of world Naziism. The movie's cheap production design undermines the emotional impact of the story. (The scenes in Auschwitz are no more expansive than those seen in contemporary TV dramas at the time.) The B&W cinematography, however, is suitably stark and provides an appropriate downbeat atmosphere. The film strays so far from the facts regarding Eichmann's life on the run that you wonder how producers felt it could be sold to contemporary audiences who were mesmerized by Eichmann's capture by the Israeli Mossad in Argentina. The movie skips over such controversies as Eichmann having been placed in custody of American forces in the aftermath of the war, only to be released due to a blunder about his identity. There is no mention of the cover-ups American intelligence engaged in so that Eichmann would never be found or arrested. (The fear was that Eichmann's arrest might reveal the fact that the American government had willingly hired prominent Nazis for intelligence purposes during the Cold War era.) Nor is there a nod to the fact that Eichmann successfully lived undisturbed in Argentina thanks to an assist from a Catholic bishop who sympathized with the plight of Nazis on the run. Although Eichmann lived in Argentina with his wife and children, the movie presents him as a bachelor who is accompanied by a ditzy and greedy girlfriend, a fictional character named Anna (Ruta Lee). The cinematic Eichmann has a tempestuous relationship with his paramour, but can't seem to leave her. He routinely offers her bribes to stay with him during his life on the run. Finally, the film embellishes Eichmann's daring capture on an Argentinian street by adding a sub-plot about other ex-Nazis who are planning to kill him for making his plans to revive the Third Reich too blatant.

Where the film, directed by R. G. Springsteen, deserves some admiration is in its determination not to sugar coat the atrocities that Eichmann and his cohorts engaged in. Nazis were not the wild-eyed monsters often depicted in propaganda films. Rather, most were distinguished by their sheer banality. Eichmann considered himself simply a bureaucrat who cited the usual defense that he was "just following orders." Likely, he believed that to be the case. Countless bankers, lawyers and accountants eagerly put their talents to use for Hitler with nary a distinction about the larger consequences of their actions. It was Eichmann, however, who rose to the challenge of orchestrating the logistics of transporting millions of poor souls to their deaths. He had not a shred of compassion and treated human beings as he might cattle. The film features Werner Klemperer in a rare starring role as the titular fiend. He delivers an outstanding performance that never sinks into parody or over-acting. Curiously, one of his co-stars is John Banner, who would play Sgt. Schultz opposite Klemperer's Emmy-winning portrayal of Col. Klink on Hogan's Heroes several years later. It is morbidly fascinating to see these two future icons of TV comedy on screen in such a somber tale. Banner plays the commandant of Auschwitz and wines and dines Eichmann at his family dinners even as the ovens are being constructed and the gas chambers are running at full capacity. It serves as a reminder that both Klemperer and Banner were well-regarded as dramatic actors prior to their comedic achievements on television.

Operation Eichmann is a flawed, but compelling look at a Nazi technocrat who personally caused the demise of millions of innocent people. With the world presently in the grip of genocidal practices being implemented in the war for the fate of the Ukraine, the movie does provide a cautionary tale for some in the Western democracies who have veered toward authoritarian figures. The film could have been so much more impressive, had the story not been relegated to a factually-flawed script and a routine director. Nevertheless, the fascinating performance by Werner Klemperer is reason enough to recommend this release.

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By Hank Reineke

Village of the Damned is the cinematic moniker of John Wyndham’s far less exploitative titled 1957 novel The Midwich Cuckoos. Wyndham’s writing specialty was science-fiction: he graduated from contributing short stories to such colorful genre magazines as Wonder Stories and Amazing Stories to publishing full-fledged novels. Though his stories were occasionally adapted for such television dramas as Alfred Hitchcock Presents, his cinematic credits were relatively few. Village of the Damned is perhaps his best remembered movie tie-in, but a 1951 novel was also filmed and subsequently released as Day of the Triffids (Allied Artists, 1962).

Village of the Damned was originally conceived to film in Hollywood, and American writer Stirling Silliphant was tapped to compose the screenplay for the movie – which was to be, more or less, a faithful adaptation of Wyndham’s novel. Though Silliphant had accrued a few film credits, he was primarily regarded as a television writer, having contributed a score of 1950s teleplays to a variety of programs ranging from The Mickey Mouse Club to Perry Mason to Alfred Hitchcock Presents.

Wolf Rilla, a German-born novelist but long-time a resident of London, was tapped to direct Village of the Damned. Rilla’s background too was mostly in television production, having written or directed a score of TV comedies and dramas over the span of a dozen years. Rilla was approached to direct Village when studio accountants deemed it far more economical to film in England rather than Hollywood. Rilla thought Silliphant’s scenario was workable. But he also thought the Yank’s grasp of contemporary British customs and vernacular was lacking. So Rilla and the film’s British producer Ronald Kinnoch (the latter writing under the pseudonym of “George Barclay”) reworked the original script to better authenticate and Anglicize.

The rewrite was successful in that regard. The atmosphere surrounding Village of the Damned is nothing less than stiff-lipped British in tone. In 2022 looking back, one could easily mistake Village as a Hammer Film Production (ala the Quatermass series).  Several prominent cast members of Village, including Barbara Shelley and Michael Gwynn, would be familiar to Hammer Films devotees, their faces having graced screens in such productions as The Camp on Blood Island, The Revenge of Frankenstein, Quatermass and the Pit, Dracula, Prince of Darkness, Rasputin, the Mad Monk, Scars of Dracula and The Gorgon. The venerable British actor George Sanders, the former star of The Saint film series, is fittingly at the center of the mystery. And there’s plenty of mystery about…

The tiny, sleepy hamlet of Midwich is the “village” referenced in the film’s title.  Nothing much ever happened in Midwich until, for an odd four-hour interval, time not only stops but is seemingly lost. The townspeople, for reasons unknown, all fall into unconsciousness.  Initially there doesn’t appear there was any significant fall-out from this strange time-warping aberration, but several months later every village woman of childbearing age - married, courting or celibate - finds themselves pregnant.  This collective simultaneously give birth to children unusual in both manner and appearance. The children, whom some suspect are the product of some strange “impulse from the universe,” are uniformly uber-intelligent, gifted beyond their years. While polite to their parents and other adults, the children also strangely distant, unusually formal and unemotional in manner.

The children are also endowed with several peculiar special gifts – not the least of which is the ability to read the minds of the adults. This ability has unnerved those members of the community who are forced to interact with these mysterious youngsters.  It’s soon revealed these children are, as suspected, the offspring of alien beings. They have been imbedded in the village to study the minds and culture of their earth-bound galactic neighbors. For what purpose? Well, no one is sure, but the worst is feared.  Once the British military gets involved their intelligence agents report the residents of Midwich are not alone.  Reports are coming in of similar alien birth-takeovers amongst rural Eskimo populations as well as countries sitting behind the Iron Curtain. 

Gordon Zellaby (George Sanders) and his wife Anthea (Barbara Shelley) are the parents of one such “special” child, David (Martin Stephens). David seems to be the spokesman of the children. He also is not shy in demonstrating the bad habit of telepathically coercing those he perceives as enemies to take their own lives.  The situation worsens when the school-age alien brood make the decision to abandon Midwich to imbed more widely among the populace.  The town elders and military realize they can’t allow these aliens, semi- contained in Midwich, to spread further afield.  But how does one plot against those with the ability to read every thought that crosses the minds of those wishing them destruction?

It’s a neat premise and Village of the Damned was a surprising hit for MGM, the B-film’s appeal amongst cinemagoers and critics alike having caught the studio off guard. When studio brass realized they had a commercial steamroller on their hands, the publicity department was free to go full throttle. MGM began to take out full page ads in the trades, boasting that “Village of the Damned Saturation Openings” were rollin-up “Sensational Grosses!” This wasn’t mere ballyhoo, it was the truth. So it wasn’t terribly surprising when MGM announced a follow-up feature was already in consideration.

Anton Leader was chosen to direct this sequel Children of the Damned. Similar to Rilla, Leader was best known for his directorial work on television, not in motion pictures. In fact, following a successful career in the 1940s as a producer of radio dramas, Leader had worked almost exclusively on the small screen. He would subsequently helm an episode or two of practically every iconic television series of the 1950s and 1960s. Leader had left the U.S. for Europe in February 1962, hoping to set up his own production company on the continent. This dream was deferred when Leader was asked to direct Children of the Damned and given a nifty $400,000 budget to do so.

Having worked almost exclusively in the penny-pinching television industry, Leader gladly accepted. He would tell a journalist from Variety that it had been good to get away from TV since a big screen filmmaker was “more respectfully regraded” and given more time and latitude to do a “respectable job.” The problem was Leader envisioned Children of the Damned as an “art picture.” The brass at MGM Britain was less interested in making a profit, not a point. They wanted Children of the Damned be a coattail-riding horror film, which wasn’t the film as delivered.

Variety recorded Leader’s chagrin when the director was first made aware of the “advertising campaign mapped out by MGM […] lurid billing as an exploitation special.” Indeed, the poster art played up only a ghastly sensationalism: “They Come To Conquer the World… So young, so innocent, so utterly deadly!” A second ad mat was no more constrained (nor honest) in its carnival-barking: “Beware the Eyes that Paralyze! All-New Suspense Shocker… even more Eerie and Unearthly than Village of the Damned!”

In truth there’s very little eeriness and only a bit of suspense in the film. Children isn’t a bad film, but it is a curious follow-up, one that wildly detours from the premise of the original. There’s only a smattering of sci-fi elements. The “children” number only six in this sequel and their provenance is multi-national. The children are, again, borne by unwed women “never touched.” All six are brilliant, each possessing “intellect beyond belief.” It’s this reason that makes them of great scientific interest to Dr. Tom Llewellyn (Ian Hendry), a psychologist and Dr. David Neville (Alan Bader), a geneticist. They suggest a UNESCO program should be commissioned to study the children.

The problem is that the children do not wish to be studied. They escape from their respective embassies to gather inside the bowels of an old church. There was no need for them to proactively discuss this decision amongst each other – or, at least, not in the usual oral method. Since they communicate with one another through telepathy, they already share a communal knowledge base. They have no separate nor distinct personalities and mostly, if not exclusively, communicate their wishes to be left alone through an intermediary they control through hypnotism.

A sector of both the scientific establishment and military believe it would be best to “destroy” the children, believing them to be the spearhead of an invasion of aliens. But the army discovers the children are well-equipped to defend themselves against any aggressive action. Unlike the Village children, this new group of moppets choose only to use their telepathic energies towards their own defense. They’re not interested in causing harm to anyone, even as the bowels beneath their church sanctuary are wired with explosives.

Children is, without doubt, a different animal than Village. John Briley, the U.S. born screenwriter would contribute an original screenplay for the sequel, one only loosely based on the premise of the Wyndham novel. Though early in his career, Briley was no hack merely trying to get along by writing B-pictures. In 1983, as the writer of Ghandi, Briley was awarded an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay.

But the folks going to the cinema to catch Children of the Damned wanted a horror film, and no doubt felt cheated upon exiting. This film was more of a preachy “co-existence not no-existence” exercise. Most reviews of the film were critical of the movie’s high-minded and obvious aspiration as being experienced as a “message film.” One critic thought the concocted scenario was simply too precious. The filmmakers were attempting to endow the film “with moral significance […] heavy-handed, unnecessary and too pretentious an aim for so relatively modest a production venture.”

Although Children of the Damned was Leader’s last feature film of significance, the British trades were reporting the novelist/director had already reworked Christopher Monig’s 1956 mystery novel The Burned Man into a screen treatment, pitching the idea of bringing it to the screen to Hammer’s James Carreras.  That project would not happen, for better or worse, and Leader soon returned to TV directing. Children of the Damned is more of a curio today, but Village of the Damned has enjoyed lasting notoriety, even having been remade by Horror-film maestro John Carpenter in 1995. But while Carpenter’s film easily bests any of the antiquated optical effects of the 1960 version, Rilla’s original remains the more iconic.

Village of the Damned and Children of the Damned are made available as BD-ROMS through the Warner Archive Collection. Village is presented in 1080p High Definition 16 x 9 1:78.1 and in DTS HD Master Audio Mono. Children has been made available in 1080p High Definition 16 x 9 1:85.1 and in DTS HD Master Audio Mono. Both films are relativity sparse with extras, though both offer each film’s theatrical trailer and removable English subs. The only true “special features” is Steve Haberman’s commentary track on Village and screenwriter John Briley’s commentary on Children.

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By Hank Reineke

We’re told the expression “Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold” had origin in seventeenth-century France. I’ve no idea if this is accurate, nor convinced it matters. What is unquestionable is that in life, literature and art, the subject of revenge remains constant. Interestingly, the avenging of injustices, real and perceived, is common to both heroes and their adversaries. Sometimes motivations combine so the separation between heroism and evil becomes muddied. As the iconic and deranged fiend Dr. Anton Phibes, the great Vincent Price adroitly manages to move his audience to cheer as his character carries out a series of brutal and theatrical murders.

Price appears as the titular Dr. Phibes in two of what are, inarguably, the actor’s three best recalled films of the 1970s. The cycle was kicked off by Robert Fuest’s The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) and Dr. Phibes Rises Again! (1972), with Douglas Hickox’s Theater of Blood (1973) – a similar film in style to the two-pic Phibes’ franchise – serving as an unofficial third act. Truth be told, only Vincent Price could manage to successfully pull off such sadistic and dark malarkey as presented above. Price’s reputation for playing gloomy, sinister characters with a sense of self-parodying gallows-humor whimsy made him a perfect cast.

The early to mid-1970s may not have completely signaled the end of old-school horror films, but it was the end of an era for those players still carrying the torch. It was primarily the British who kept the familiar tropes alive through the bloody, and often Gothic, productions of Hammer, Amicus, Tigon and late-to-the game Tyburn. Though Hammer was reviled in the 1960s for allowing Technicolor on-screen bloodletting, such crimson exploitation was nothing to what was to follow. American independents had already pushed the envelope to the extreme with such disturbing drive-in fare as Wes Craven’s Last House on the Left (1972) and Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974).

Overnight, the performances and films of such polished, academy trained actors as Price, Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee were made antiquated and unhip. Empty-headed teenagers were the new principal players, and with the release of John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978), old-school horror was relegated to the annals of film studies as a flood of imitations flooded movie screens. While Vincent Price didn’t disappear from movie-house screens, he was seen less often. You were more likely to catch Price on television in a TV-movie, drama, situation comedy or as a guest on Hollywood Squares. Or, perhaps, you might have been fortunate enough to catch the veteran actor trotting the boards in a traveling theatrical production.

Price was, understandably, not a great fan of the so-called “slasher” film genre. Such disgruntlement was, no doubt, partly the result of a loss of big screen offers and opportunities. Price considered the slasher film “with all their blood and violence […] a different genre from the wonderful Edgar Allan Poe films we used to make for Roger Corman.” In interviews from that period Price insisted the recent trend on splashing explicit real-life violence onto the big screen was a worrying trend. “When you have the chain saw at the very beginning of the picture that knocks off about fifteen people, where have you got to go?, he sighed to one journalist. “There’s no humor,” he continued. “They’ve just become too violent for me.”

There’s certainly no absence of humor – dark as it may be - present in The Abominable Dr. Phibes and Dr. Phibes Rises Again!. Price is directly responsible for innumerable murders, most often in devilishly amusing methods. I feel that, in some manner of speaking, the Phibes films had a measure of stylized influence on the slasher film genre. The body counts left in the wake of the subsequent slashers are, generally speaking, no greater nor less than those in the Phibes or Theater of Blood exercises.

In terms of thin plotting the Phibes and early slashers are similar in construction. Both substitute logic and a compelling storyline for a fast flowing series of voyeuristic grim executions. The raison d’etre of both enterprises was to deliver an entertaining, sadistic mix of idiosyncratic killings both inventive and amusing. The big difference is that a slate of seasoned actors are summarily dispatched in the Phibes films. In the slashers we tend to cheer on the fates of the teenage-victims due to their visibly painful absence of acting skills.

In the Phibes films Vincent Price isn’t breaking new ground. He’s merely diligently following the established vengeful tradition of preceding movie ghouls. In the nineteen thirties and forties, Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi carried out all sorts of vendettas, nearly all the result of some professional slight. Their targets, deserving or not, were always getting trapped behind locked doors and no-escape rooms. This was usually due to their tormentors having had their scientific research purloined or reputations sullied.

There is one key difference between the old-school and new-school horrors. Karloff and Lugosi were crossed men with personalities - as anti-social and vengeful as those personalities might be. Too many of the slasher films, in my view anyway, featured successions of masked killers who killed in cold, robotic-fashion. Often motivations were not explained (or explained without satisfaction) until a movies’ end. The impersonality of such killings, arguably, might have contributed to the mystery – as in a, “Why is this happening?” But such detachment allowed for too many of the best-remembered slashers to serve as little more than an assembly-line cinematic abattoir. Which brings us back to Dr. Phibes.

In The Abominable Dr. Phibes, the titular character is not a medical doctor at all. A once-celebrated organist, Dr. Anton Phibes (Vincent Price) holds a curious combination of PhDs in Musicology and Theology. He uses his knowledge of the latter to unleash a series of murders fashioned from ancient biblical curses. He unleashes his wrath on the medical team he holds responsible for the April 1921 death of his wife Victoria Regina Phibes (Caroline Munro, more or less). Drawing the final curtains on those of he holds responsible, Phibes – with the assistance of the mysterious and beautiful Vulnavia (Virginia North) - methodically executes a series of Old Testament plagues as outlined in the Book of Exodus. He grimly works his way to his most loathed and final target, Chief of Surgeons Dr. Vesalius (Joseph Cotton). Having planned the biblical killing of Vesalius’s son, the firstborn, Phibes and Vesalius clash over the boy’s gurney in a tense, feverish confrontation at an extravagant manor house on London’s Maldine Square.

While the casting of The Abominable Dr. Phibes is perfect, it was an odd gamble that Price, the film’s star player, was essentially given no interactive dialogue: the actor’s voice is only heard as a filtered, somewhat robotic, voiceover throughout and even then only sparingly. Actress North, Phibes accessory-in-crime, admitted to frustration when she read the script and learned her role too was an unspeaking one. In July of 1971, North, a former model, sighed to an Associated Press journalist, “I don’t know why they don’t let me speak.” But she conceded “Not speaking is more sinister I suppose.” It certainly was in Phibes case, allowing Price’s disdain for his victims to be projected through his sneering countenance.

One would have thought it we saw the last of The Abominable Dr. Phibes at that film’s conclusion. But since American International had raked in a not inconsiderable profit on investment, a Phibes resurrection was quickly arranged. The first Phibes film was often paired in cinema’s with A.I.P.’s Count Yorga, Vampire (1970), a modern-day spin on the old legend. Count Yorga was very successful in in own right, spawning a sequel of its own. That series success led to rumors that A.I.P. might be grooming Yorga star Robert Quarry as a potential horror film successor to the aging Price.

What is obvious is that A.I.P. was interested in bringing to the screen a collaboration of Price and Quarry. This was made plain in December of 1971 when Louis M. “Deke” Heyward, A.I.P.’s Head of European Production, told reporters, “Bringing the ‘abominable’ Phibes and the ‘insidious’ Yorga together was something that just had to happen. The chemistry was too good to miss.” Heyward’s remarks were recorded as shooting was getting underway at Elstree, the producer crowing, “It’s no secret that when we were making the first ‘Phibes’ we were so sure we had a hit on our hands that we took the trouble to shoot the opening scenes of the sequel that was bound to come.”

Dr. Phibes Rises Again! reunites several members of the original, though North was out: Valli Kemp now filled the role of Price’s murderous assistant. Peter Jeffrey is back as the frustrated Scotland Yard detective who invariably arrives on the scene too late to save anyone from their gruesome, if amusing, fates. Another horror icon, Peter Cushing, also appears in the film. As the U.S. and Western Europe was in the throes of King Tut fever due to public interest in the touring display of ancient Egyptian artifacts, co-screenwriters Fuest and Robert Blees moved the action and ensuing mayhem from London to Egypt.

If not as satisfying as its predecessor, Dr. Phibes Rises Again!, is still great fun. Yes, the sequel simply delivers more of the same, but this is not necessarily a bad strategy as formula films go. If anything, the film might be even lighter in tone than the original, Price camping up the villainy to preposterous proportions. Though teased that a third film would follow – a script was commissioned – alas, the cinematic run of Dr. Phibes was (excuse me) “Phinished.”

This two disc Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu ray issue of The Abominable Dr. Phibes and Dr. Phibes Rises Again! offers both films in 1.85:1 widescreen and with 1920 x 1080p resolution and DTS-audio. The set offers no fewer than four isolated audio commentary tracks. The primary commentary comes directly from director Robert Fuest who shares his production memories of The Abominable Dr. Phibes. Secondary commentaries on both The Abominable Dr. Phibes and Dr. Phibes Rises Again! come courtesy of film historian Justin Humphreys, the author of The Dr. Phibes Companion (Bear Manor Media, 2018), the definitive work on all things Phibesian. Video Watchdog’s Tim Lucas also shares thoughts on Dr. Phibes Rises Again!. The set rounds out with a collection of radio and television spots and theatrical trailers. There’s also a colorful slipcover for collectors and Phibes wonks, like myself, to fawn over.

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BY HANK REINEKE

I will admit to a degree of bias up front. I’ve never been particularly enamored of MGM’s 1941 interpret of Robert Louis Stevenson’s famed novella Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. And it occasionally bothers me that I’m not. The so-called “Golden Age” of the Horror film (1931-1948) has long been, and will likely always remain, my favorite cinematic era. Since the start of the home video revolution I dutifully acquired (and subsequently upgraded) practically every monochrome classic – OK, and some not-so-classic – genre films issued from that era to hold in my private collection. It was of little concern to me if a film was the product of a major studio (Universal, Columbia, MGM, Warner Bros. et. al.) or of a low-rent independent (Monogram, Republic or PRC). Practically every U.S and British film – as well as few from the continent – would find its way into my home archive.

So it’s telling that prior to this Blu ray debut of Victor Fleming’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, recently issued as part of the Warner Bros. Archive Collection, the only copy I’ve held in my collection is the old Laserdisc of the title. Published in 1986 as part of MGM’s “Great Books on Video” series. I simply never had the desire to channel any additional discretionary income into an upgrade of the film. So in some way the arrival of this High-Def edition by WAC was welcome. It has allowed me the opportunity to reassess long-held opinions or prejudices.

Similar to Stoker’s Dracula (1897) and Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818) monster, Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886) stands as the third point of the immortal crown of literary monsters: the trio of select ghouls to have made a seamless transition from written page to the stage to the silver screen. Though the most celebrated earliest cinematic adaptation was the 1920 Paramount silent classic featuring John Barrymore as the titular rogue, even that film version wasn’t the earliest. Stevenson’s novella had been brought to the silent screen on a number of earlier occasions (1908-1914), though several of those earliest efforts are now thought forever lost in time.

Of the sound films, my favorite big screen adaptation of the novella will forever be Rouben Mamaoulian’s 1931 Paramount remake featuring Fredric March. In some manner of speaking, Mamaoulian’s version is a bit more faithful to Stevenson’s original work than MGM’s 1941 version, in other ways not. Stevenson’s conception of Mr. Hyde presents him not as physical monster with deformities, but merely a compassionless, selfish human whose heart has grown cold and actions sadistic. Hyde is described by Jekyll’s lawyer friend, Gabriel John Utterson (a major character of the novella completely missing from the Fleming version), as a sinister fellow with a “displeasing smile,” one who appeared “pale and dwarfish.” Stevenson’s Hyde gave off “an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation.”

But following in the wake of Universal’s box-office success in 1931 with Tod Browning’s Dracula and James Whale’s Frankenstein, it was in Paramount’s interest to portray Fredric March’s Mr. Hyde as a feral beast in a physical as well as psychological sense. The applied iconic make-up conjured by Wally Westmore for March’s Hyde was certainly appealing to the “monster kid” in me. When I was first introduced to images of March’s Mr. Hyde first in the pages of Famous Monsters of Filmland and later via the (very) occasional television broadcast, I was left duly impressed. As I was with the imaginative camera-trickery rigged by Mamaoulian and cinematographer Karl Struss. The sight of March’s mirror-reflected transformation from Jekyll into Hyde remains a stunning and impressive optical effect to behold even in 2022. It must have been mind-blowing to audiences some ninety-one years prior.

It’s not entirely clear why MGM chose to move forward with their own version of the Stevenson work, but in November of 1940 the trades were reporting that MGM was planning their own version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde to feature actor Spencer Tracy in the lead role. The following month it was announced in Box Office that veteran screenwriter John Lee Mahin (who had earlier adapted Stevenson’s Treasure Island for MGM in 1934) had been assigned scripting duties. In an interesting example of casting against type, the Pin-Up model and screen vixen Lana Turner was contracted to play the role of a good girl done wrong, with Swedish good girl Ingrid Bergman signed to portray a Cockney barmaid. It must be said, both actresses pull off their respective challenges rather admirably. Production on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was to commence on Wednesday, February 5, 1941.

Despite the overall gloss of the MGM remake, Spencer Tracy’s Jekyll and Hyde is not nearly as enigmatic nor tortured a character as March’s was. Tracy’s a great actor of course, no one is contesting that. And I’m certainly not knocking his performance in the film; I’m sure he does all he can in role with the material given him. But as the most essential component of cinema is in its visuals, Tracy’s Hyde falls short - even if his presentation is more aligned with Stevenson’s original descriptions. Tracy’s Hyde is violent and malignant and an unpleasant suitor to both fiancé Beatrix Emery (Turner) and Ivy Peterson (Bergman), the maligned barmaid he uses and abuses. But Tracy’s Hyde remains a decidedly human monster in his appearance. Yes, he’s sadistic and manipulative but his soul conceivably, at least, might still be saved with a bit of religion, a session of drug counselling, or an anger-management class or two.

David Hanna, a drama critic and entertainment writer for the Los Angeles Daily News was hardly the only critic who, upon the film’s release, registered disappointment with Tracy’s physical non-transformation into the villainous Mr. Hyde. There had been a lot of Hollywood press ballyhoo that the sound stage was to be closed to all visitors when Tracy’s Jekyll-to-Hyde scenes were to be lensed. So the eventual ho-hum big reveal of the new “Mr. Hyde” was a crushing disappointment. Hanna sighed, “The first time Tracy changed character the make-up looked as though he just needed a brace on his teeth and a little filling to make him appear a most respected member of society.”

This opinion was shared by London’s Picturegoer magazine. Their critic offered, the “scenes when Tracy assumes a grotesque make-up are included to make one smile, rather than creep.” It’s true that Tracy’s Hyde is an underwhelming sight to behold. No physical personification of evil flashes before us. Tracy looks like someone who merely awoke from a night’s bender: mussed hair, sagging dark bags under crowfeet lined eyes, slightly askew, bushy eyebrows and a leering countenance.

Though Fleming’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was far from a box-office disappointment, it certainly wasn’t the impressive, timeless effort his two most recent pictures, The Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind, had been – and would forever remain. Most critics seemed to agree Paramount’s 1931 was by far the better film. Though some argued Tracy was so capable an actor that he required “no gargantuan make-up to denote his transformation from the good Dr. Jekyll into the evil Mr. Hyde,” others countered this 1941 remake had problematic issues beyond make-up expectations. Mahin’s script offered a sprinkled layer of Freudian psychoanalysis into the mix, a reinterpret sure to offer cinemagoers a lesser experience. As the critic from Picturegoer noted, “March’s ape man make-up, crude though it was” managed to convey “a stronger sense of horror than Tracy’s milder conception, which comes as sheer anti-climax.”

There is an interesting “art against expectation” side note to all this. With the box-office of Hyde underperforming, Variety reported in September of 1941 that MGM had chosen to “revise its national campaign on the picture.” The original campaign (“A Good Woman – A Bad Woman. He Needed the Love of Both!”) hyped the film’s romantic elements at the expense of its (admittedly minor) horrific elements. A new campaign was struck, the “too prettified” and posh original publicity stills withdrawn. Replacement images were ordered, MGM choosing to “slice into the film for a blowup of Spencer Tracy’s face in the ‘Mr. Hyde’ impersonation.” This tactic and a new accompanying blurb (“It CHILLS you! Half-Man! Half-Monster!”) proved so successful in such markets as Detroit, that subsequent regional exhibitors were requesting use of the same ad mats used in that city’s exploitation campaign.

It’s possible there’s a gaggle of English professors who prefer the 1941 version above all others, but neither this version nor the better 1931 film is faithful to the original source material. Mahin script is interesting as it mines and mixes elements of both Stevenson’s work with ideas conjured by Oscar-nominated ’31 screenwriters Percy Heath and Samuel Hoffenstein. This is an “actor’s film.” There’s lots of long and drowsy oral discourses that take place in tony parlors, but as an adventure of any sort it’s exciting only in the smallest of episodes. Fleming and Mahin’s version might have made for a compelling, intimate stage show, but as a film it’s overlong and not terribly involving.

In its review of July 1941, a scribe from Variety hit the nail on the head: “It may be that Fleming, keeping closer to the literal than spirit of the text, missed some of the more subtle points.” ’31 Director Mamaoulian would likely agree with that assessment. He boasted a few years hence that his version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde remained the “best one ever made.” “Spencer Tracy is a very competent actor,” Mamaoulian mused to the St. Louis Post Democrat. “But the man who plays Jekyll has to be superbly handsome. As Fredric March was. Then the changeover to Hyde is gripping. Tracy was miscast.” ‘Tis true in MGM’s 1941 version the potion brewed by Dr. Jekyll this time out was, at best, a weak tea.

This Warner Archive Collection Blu ray edition of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is presented here in a pristine 1080p High Definition 16x9 1.37.1 and DTS-HD Master 2.0 Mono Audio. There’s hardly a visual blemish throughout, and it is doubtful admirers of the film will find any fault with this transfer. This is a bare bones release, the set’s only special features are the film’s original trailer and removable English subtitles.

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Kevin Costner, Sean Connery and Robert De Niro Star in the Must-See Crime-Drama,
Debuting on 4K Ultra HD May 31, 2022

Directed by Brian De Palma and nominated^* for four Academy Awards®, the acclaimed drama THE UNTOUCHABLES makes its 4K Ultra HD debut on May 31, 2022 from Paramount Home Entertainment.

Originally released on June 3, 1987, THE UNTOUCHABLES celebrates its 35^th anniversary this year and remains a must-see masterpiece featuring visionary filmmaking and exceptional performances from an outstanding cast.  Robert De Niro as mob warlord Al Capone and Kevin Costner as law enforcer Eliot Ness are unforgettable in a glorious, fierce, larger-than-life depiction of good versus evil on the streets of Prohibition-era Chicago. 

Sean Connery won his only Oscar® for his portrayal of veteran officer Jimmy Malone in the blockbuster hit that was the fourth highest grossing film of 1987.  Written by David Mamet, THE UNTOUCHABLES also boasts a Grammy Award-winning score by the legendary Ennio Morricone and an excellent supporting cast including Patricia Clarkson, Andy Garcia, and Charles Martin Smith.

THE UNTOUCHABLES will be available on 4K Ultra HD and in a 4K Ultra HD 35^th Anniversary SteelBook® with a Dolby Atmos® soundtrack^** and access to a Digital copy of the film.  The discs also include over an hour of legacy bonus content in high definition as detailed below:

• The Script, The Cast
• Production Stories
• Re-Inventing the Genre
• The Classic
• Original Featurette: “The Men”
• Theatrical Trailer

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By Hank Reineke

I confess to having difficulty understanding Corinth’s curious repackaging of three monochrome 1950’s science-fiction films. Pulling together this triad of films – all previously issued as single disc releases from the label’s Wade Williams Collection - seems to make sense on one level. We’ll discuss later on. But for the record this DVD of Drive-In Retro Classics: Science Fiction Triple Feature brings together such disparate Silver Age favorites as Kurt Neumann’s Rocketship X-M (1950), Nathan H. Juran’s The Brain from Planet Arous (1958) and Robert Clarke’s The Hideous Sun Demon (1959).

Though he didn’t have anything to do with the production of any of the films listed above, Wade Williams has served as curator of the analog and digital legacy of many ‘50s sci-fi and horror titles. Though Williams would aspire as a filmmaker himself, the titles appearing in the “Wade Williams Collection” are exactly that – films in his collection. Williams had prudently purchased the rights to a mostly moribund package of ‘50s sci-fi movie and TV shows from estates, from studios, or from producers/others holding ownership. The latter category would include films produced by such names as George Pal, Jack Broder, Harry M. Popkin and Richard Rosenfeld.

This decision to sell off their interests was an understandable (but ultimately bad) business decision on the part of the original rights holders. But it was the early 1970s and television stations – now the only outlet still providing a trickle of revenue for these old films – were abandoning their creaky old black-and-white libraries for color-TV programs. Few in Hollywood could have anticipated the stream of monies to be afforded by the home-video revolution only a few short years down the line.

To be fair, Williams was an enthusiast of these old sci-fi films, not simply a speculator who got lucky. Burgeoning consumer interest in home video product allowed opportunity for Williams to capitalize on his prudent purchases. The first of the “Wade Williams Collection” VHS videocassettes were issued as early as the late 1970s, mostly through such companies as Nostalgia Merchant and Starlog Video. In the 1999 Williams partnered with Image Entertainment, the latter dressing the new DVDs in bright-color slipcovers. These sleeves partly disguised the fact the movies contained within were black-and-white oldies. Sci-fi newbies unfamiliar with the histories of atomic age sci-fi films might have felt shortchanged by this creative - if somewhat duplicitous – bit of marketing.

But for those of us in the know, the Williams releases were a Godsend. We were the aficionados of old-school sci-fi, semi-aging folks who first caught the films during theatrical matinees in the 50’s or through fuzzy late-night TV broadcasts in the ‘60s. We no longer had to order wonky prints sourced from aged television screenings peddled by bootleg vendors advertising in the back pages of cult film magazines. When Laserdisc and DVD releases would supersede VHS cassettes in quality of presentation, Williams’ catalog was similarly trotted out in new formats.

It must be noted that Williams has also been, somewhat ungraciously, a target of criticism – often painted as a proverbial villain - over the last two decades by some collectors. As the rights holder to so many treasured classic – and not so classic – vintage sci-fi films, the just shy of eighty Williams has been reluctant in recent years to issue the films on Blu-ray. His reasoning for not doing, while disappointing, is sound. Answering critics of the handling of his catalog, Williams offered to contributors on the on-line Home Theater Forum while physical media sales remained important, “streaming, downloading, Amazon Prime, Netflix and TCM are the remaining outlets from classic films.”

He would also note that restorations were expensive undertakings. Factoring in public domain issues, the problem of outright bootlegging and copy-and-paste YouTube piracy, there was no longer any chance to break-even - much less garner a profit - from such an enterprise. It was a practical and understandable real-world estimate – but a response disappointing for those who preferred to stock their home video libraries with physical media.

Which brings us back, in a roundabout manner, to Drive-In Retro Classics: Science Fiction Triple Feature. Taking the series’ format history into account, the natural progression would have been to see these films released on Blu ray; to revisit them in spruced-up remasters with a dollop of bonus special materials tagged on. But, alas, this isn’t the case. Instead Drive-In Retro Classics: Science Fiction Triple Feature offers up a total of three films, running 222 minutes collectively, all crushed on a single disc. There are no special features, no new scans from better elements, no new bells or whistles of any sort. So buyer beware.

OK, with all this history out of the way I offer, for the uninitiated at least, a brief overview of the films in the Corinth set:

In The Brain from Planet Arous, Steve Marsh (John Agar), a technician of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission, becomes the unwilling host of alien being named Gor. Gor is an evil levitating cerebellum with half-moon eyes who desires rule as “Master of the Universe.” He aspires to make all the people of the earth his slaves. The alternative is “death by intense radiation.” The earth is merely one stop on this quest… and he makes the most of the visit. Through his manipulation of his hypnotized subjugate Marsh, Gor unleashes a rash of attacks on military-bases and martial aircrafts.

Gor convinces the cowered American Generals to convene a summit with the earth’s six other nuclear powers, demanding all nations submit to his terms… or else. All seems lost until Vol, a second and far friendlier levitating brain from Arous, arrives at Indian Springs to offer advice. Vol explains the only way to stop the renegade Gor is by attacking the creature’s one weak spot, striking at the brain’s fissure of Rolando. But can Marsh’s girlfriend Sally (Joyce Randolph) and George the dog get this important info to Marsh in time?

The Hideous Sun Demon is the tour de force brainchild of actor/writer/producer Robert Clarke. Clarke plays Dr. Gilbert McKenna, an “obscure scientist” exposed to a type of radiation “far more dangerous than cosmic rays.” This turns out to be an unwelcome turn of events as such exposure has triggered a reverse evolution of his DNA, turning him into the Hideous Sun Demon, a half-human half-reptile biped. The movie is sort of a reversal of werewolfism. Clarke’s transformation is not triggered by the rising of the full moon but by exposure to the sun’s rays. When not lurching about Los Angeles and Santa Monica at night, McKenna sulks, drinks a lot of whiskey and hangs out a dingy nightclub where he listens to a buxom blond tickle the ivories and sing such moody jazz numbers as “Strange Desire.” Perhaps Little Orphan Annie desires for the sun to come out tomorrow, but its bad news for McKenna.

In Rocketship X-M, America is readying a sleek spacecraft for blast-off. The rocket is to carry a team of scientists – including a thirty-year old Lloyd Bridges – on a mission to the moon. Unfortunately, a combination of bad scientific calculations and an untimely meteor shower forces the craft off course. The space travelers instead land on Mars where, to their surprise, discover the ruins of an ancient civilization. They are received unwelcomingly, made targets by a gaggle of rock throwing Martian Neanderthals. Though they quickly and wisely abandon the Red Planet for a trip back home, they encounter yet another problem. Is there enough fuel left in the craft’s supply tanks to get them home safely?

Of the three films in this set, only Rocketship X-M aspires to loftier visions and high production values. Theobold Holsopple’s production designs are imaginative and iconic. The special-effects work of Don Stewart, I.A. Block and Jack Rabin is of similar high-caliber, especially when considering the era in which the film was produced.

To wrap up: the best thing I can say about this new DVD release is that it brings these films back into print, making them more easily available to new consumers. No more scouring through second hand shops or paying fifty dollar “collector” prices for the now rare original single-disc DVDs released twenty-odd years ago. But when one learns the MSRP of the Corinth release is $29.95… well, that price seems a bit stiff. But I’m confident the MSRP will likely not be the actual asking price when the disc hits online outlets.

I’d be remiss without at least mentioning one title, The Brain from Planet Arous, is reportedly being readied for Blu-ray release by another home video company, one known for bring loving attention to neglected films. This prospective Blu issue, slated for release in summer of 2022, promises a new restoration, an audio commentary, a booklet, and a special-features documentary as bonuses. So some may choose a wait-and-see approach before gambling on Drive-in Retro Classics.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

When it was announced that producer Elliott Kastner had succeeded in signing both Marlon Brando and Jack Nicholson for the 1976 Western, "The Missouri Breaks", the project was viewed as a "can't miss" at the international box-office. This would be Brando's first film since his back-to-back triumphs in "The Godfather" and "Last Tango in Paris" and Nicholson had just won the Best Actor Oscar for "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". The two Hollywood icons were actually neighbors who lived next door to each other, but they had never previously teamed for a film project. Kastner, whose prowess as a street-wise guy who used unorthodox methods to get films off the ground, had used a clever tactic to sign up both superstars: he told each man that the other had already committed to the project, when, in fact, neither had. With Brando and Nicholson aboard, Kastner hired a respected director, Arthur Penn, who had worked with Brando ten years before on "The Chase". He then chose an acclaimed novelist, Thomas McGuane, who had recently made his directorial debut with "92 in the Shade", to write the screenplay. What emerged from all these negotiations was seemingly a boxoffice blockbuster in the making. Alas, it was not to be. Upon its release, critics emphasized the "Miss" aspect "Can't Miss" of the "The Missouri Breaks", with most reviewers citing the opinion that the film was a long, slow slog interrupted up a hammy, over-the-top comic performance from Brando, who Penn apparently exercised little control over when it came to the actor's penchant for improvisation. 

The film opens with cattle baron David Braxton (John McLiam) "hosting" a lynching for a rapt audience of his ranch hands. Seems the intended victim has rustled some of his cattle and McLiam is determined to put an end to the thievery, which has reduced his overall business income by 7% per year- a statistic he never tires of griping about. McLiam's hardball tactics against the rustlers don't sit well with his otherwise adoring daughter Jane (Kathleen Lloyd), an independent-thinking young woman who has acted as her father's most trusted companion since her mother left him for another man years ago. The victim of the lynching was a member of a rustling gang headed by Tom Logan (Jack Nicholson), who befriends Braxton on the pretense that he wants to purchase a plot of land on his property to establish a small farm. In reality, he wants to utilize the land to temporarily house stolen horses which his gang has gone to Canada to obtain in a daring operation against the Royal Canadian Mounted Police's stables. Meanwhile, Jane- who lives a life of relative isolation on her father's estate-is immediately smitten by the charismatic Tom Logan and when she insists that he become her first lover, he finds it impossible to resist. Thus, Logan is now in a romantic relationship with a girl who is the daughter of a man he is deceiving and stealing from. David Braxton goes all-out in his obsession with thwarting the rustlers. He hires Lee Clayton, a renowned "regulator", which is a polite term for bounty hunter. Clayton is an eccentric man with a bizarre personality who speaks in a heavy Irish brogue, but also at times utilizes other accents. He is at times charming and amusing and at other times fiery-tempered and unpredictable. Upon being introduced to Tom Logan by Braxton, Clayton immediately suspects he is not a farmer, but a rustler. The two men play a cat-and-mouse game, each one employing double-entendres in their conversations. When Logan's men return from Canada empty-handed after being thwarted by the Mounties, Clayton becomes an omnipresent figure, observing their every move from afar through binoculars. One by one, he systematically murders the members of the rustling gang, always preceding their horrendous deaths by chatting with the doomed men in disarmingly friendly tones. Clayton becomes so frightening a figure that even Braxton becomes intimidated by him and attempts to fire him, but Clayton says the money is irrelevant and that once he commits to a job, he sees it through. The stage is set for a mano-a-mano confrontation between Logan and Clayton that both men realize will see only one emerge alive.

It's easy to see why "The Missouri Breaks" didn't catch on with audiences. Much of the film moves at a glacial pace, but McGuane's script is intelligent and the dialogue often witty. Brando's outrageous antics easily overshadow anyone else in the film, even though his appearances are fleeting and the lion's share of the screen time is dominated by Nicholson. Brando seems to be having a field day and there seems to be no limit to his improvisations. (At one point he is dressed as a Chinese peasant and in another he is inexplicably attired as a woman, complete with apron and bonnet.) He also has a penchant for making some uncomfortably romantic overtures to his horse. Thus, the character of Clayton proves to be a distraction from the otherwise somber, realistic tone of the film. Nevertheless, there is no doubt that Brando's appearances are both amusing and somewhat mesmerizing, even if out of place. The movie boasts a first rate supporting cast that includes Harry Dean Stanton, Frederic Forrest and a young and slim Randy Quaid. Kathleen Lloyd holds her own against the considerable star power of Brando and Nicholson, which could not have been an easy feat. Alas, stardom was not to follow for her, though she still occasionally appears as a guest star in popular TV series. Where the movie disappoints the most is in its climax. The audience has been led to expect a memorable confrontation between Logan and Clayton, but when one of them gets the upper hand on the other, it's done very abruptly and rather unimaginatively, leaving the viewer feeling cheated. The movie boasts a low-key but appropriately atmospheric score by John Williams and impressive cinematography by Michael Butler. 

After "The Missouri Breaks", Brando seemed uninspired and went on automatic pilot in terms of his film roles. He was paid a relative fortune for what amounted to extended cameos in "Superman" and "Apocalypse Now", and while he was a significant physical presence in both films, no one made the case that he exerted himself dramatically. He would find occasional enthusiasm in certain roles (an Oscar-nominated turn in the little-seen  "A Dry White Season" and a hilarious performance recreating his Don Corleone role for "The Freshman"), but his enthusiasm seemed to diminish in direct proportion to his increase in weight. Sadly, he would never totally recapture the mojo he once enjoyed as a screen icon. Yet, time has been kind to "The Missouri Breaks". The film's literate script and direction are a reminder of an era in which such projects would be green-lit by major studios who appealed to the intellect of movie audiences. Today, the project would never have seen fruition no matter who starred in it.  

"The Missouri Breaks" is currently streaming on Amazon Prime and Kanopy.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lorber has released the 1964 comedy "The Brass Bottle" on Blu-ray. The film appears to have been the inspiration for the hit TV series "I Dream of Jeannie" which starred Barbara Eden as the sultry title character. Some cinephiles argue that the film and TV series have nothing to do with one another, but it seems to me that if you make a movie with Barbara Eden and a genie from a brass bottle, than it's more than a coincidence that a TV series starring Eden featuring a genie and a brass bottle soon appears. It is true that Eden does appear as the female lead in the feature film, but in a very down-to-earth role as Sylvia, the fiancee of aspiring-but-unsuccessful architect Harold Ventimore (Tony Randall). Sorry, guys, no navel-gazing to be had here.The premise of the plot is as old as the pyramids: Harold comes into possession of a large, ancient urn through which he unwittingly frees an ancient genie named Fakrash (Burl Ives, who far less a feast for the eyes than Eden was in the TV series), who had been imprisoned in there for 3,000 years after offending a nobleman who had magical powers. Fakrash is so delighted to be free that he uses all his efforts to make improvements in Harold's life starting with magically persuading a top real estate developer to hire the unknown architect to design an entire suburban housing development. Harold is initially delighted but soon discovers that every time Fakrash makes an improvement to his life, there is a corresponding disaster to offset it. This extends to his love life, as well. In an attempt to win over Sylvia's grumpy parents who disapprove of him, Harold plans a dinner party at his house. Thanks to Fakrash, however, when the fuddy-duddy parents and Sylvia arrive, the place has been transformed into a bachelor pad, complete with dancing harem girls and a group of Arabic musicians. Also on hand is a "gift" from Fakrash, a sexually aggressive, beautiful slave girl named Tezra (Kamala Devri).  Appalled by the hedonistic atmosphere, Sylvia and her parents storm out. The remainder of the film involves Harold's desperate efforts to undo the "improvements" that Fakrash continues to enact on his behalf. Before long, Fakrash has turned his future father-in-law into a mule and also wreaked havoc on Harold's career. 

"The Brass Bottle", directed with workmanlike efficiency by Harry Keller, is a modestly-budgeted affair that was shot primarily on the Universal back lot. The few exterior sequences include some very obvious rear screen projection, thus giving the feature film the look of a standard sitcom from the era. The primary attribute of the production is the inspired cast. Tony Randall, who by this point in his career had carved a niche as one of Hollywood's leading supporting players, gets a rare opportunity to get first billing. Barbara Eden is largely relegated to window dressing as his long-suffering fiancee. The film clearly belongs to Burl Ives, who is genuinely amusing as the genie who tries to accustom himself to life in the 20th century. He begins the film wearing traditional ancient garb and ends clad in designer suits. Ives dominates every scene he is in as this marvelous character. The film also features two of the 1960's most popular on-screen grouches, the great Edward Andrews as Harold's would-be father-in-law and Parley Baer as Harold's prospective employer. Another reliable "grouch", Philip Ober appears as Harold's ill-tempered boss.  (Harold has nothing but ill-tempered people surrounding him.)  

The movie affords some mildly amusing moments and the "risque" elements are downright quaint by today's standards. When presented with a live-in, gorgeous mistress who will do anything he commands, Harold can only think of how to get rid of her- a premise that is slightly less believable than that of a genie appearing from a brass bottle. Then again, even as a pre-teen in the 1960s, I couldn't buy the notion that a beautiful female genie could live with a handsome, single man who she calls "Master" without any sexual scenarios arising.  Randall is always a delight and this rare showcase for him as a leading man, along with Ives' delightful performance, are the primary reason to watch this otherwise pleasant but undistinguished comedy.  

Kino Lorber's Blu-ray is a considerable upgrade from the previous release, a bare-bones DVD from Universal. The Blu-ray features a very good commentary track by Australian film historian Lee Gambin, who manages to have Barbara Eden join him via phone. She's a delight to listen to and has nothing but good things to say about working with Randall and Ives. Gambin also wisely has her recall her experiences filming "The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao" and "The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm". As a sign of the times, it's the first commentary track I've heard in which Covid factors into the conversation. The release includes the original trailer and a gallery of other comedy trailers for films available from KL.

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BY HANK REINEKE

Following the success of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho in 1960-61, there was – forgive me – a “mad” rush to cash in on that film’s coattails. On one side of the pond, U.S. based pastiches of Psycho would come courtesy of Shlock-horror maestro William Castle. The gimmicky producer would rush out the psychological-thriller Homicidal in 1961 and, a bit later - and more famously - with Joan Crawford in Straiht- Jacket (1964). In England, Hammer Film Productions, riding high due to their reimagining of the classic “Universal” monsters, would likewise bring to the screen four psych-thrillers of similar temperament: Paranoiac and Maniac in 1963, Hysteria and Nightmare in 1965.

One of the connecting threads of this quartet of Hammer efforts were that all scenarios had been dutifully scribed by their “house writer” of sorts, Jimmy Sangster. In his entertaining autobiography Do You Want it Good or Tuesday? From Hammer Films to Hollywood: A Life in the Movies (Midnight Marquee Press, 2009), Sangster doesn’t dwell too long on any reminiscences of Nightmare, but offers he found making the film “as being all fun.” Which, I suppose, is a fair self-assessment.

Sangster’s film (which he also produced) begins with a nightmare sequence, a young woman walking frightened and apprehensive through the empty corridors of an insane asylum. That woman, Janet (Jennie Linden) enters the cell of a deranged woman who cackles and taunts menacingly. The girl awakens from her dream with a tortured scream, scaring the living daylights out of her roommates at Hatcher’s School for Young Ladies. One of her teachers at the school, Miss Mary Lewis (Brenda Bruce) realizes this privileged girl is suffering from some sort of nervous condition. She accompanies her anxious student to Hightower, the tony mansion Janet is to inherit when she comes of age.

The staff at Hightower, particularly John (George A. Cooper) and Mrs. Gibbs (Irene Richmond), seem fond of Janet, sympathetic and protective. In contrast, her guardian and executor of the property Henry Baxter (David Knight) - as well as a new face at the mansion, Grace Maddox (Moira Redmond) appear outwardly friendly… but there’s something about the two that arouses one’s suspicions. We soon learn the disturbed mental patient Janet encounters in her nightmares is her very own mother. It’s revealed that on the day of her eleventh birthday, Janet witnessed the brutal stabbing death of her father by the hand of her mother.

Though mom would be subsequently sent to the local madhouse, the brutal memories of the event have left Janet teetering on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The girl is haunted by the thought that her mother’s insanity might prove to be an inherited trait. It’s not helpful to Janet’s mental condition that each night at Hightower she’s visited by a ghostly figure with a scarred face and white dressing gown. The ghost-woman roams the hallways, her appearances always preceding an act of staged violence. It’s enough to drive a young girl crazy… which is exactly what happens in due course.

So far, so good. Unfortunately, the film’s narrative structure takes an unwelcome turn in its second half. Just as Janet Leigh’s embezzling character disappears – surprisingly - from Psycho a mere twenty-minutes into the film, so does Janet from Nightmare. Unfortunately, while Robert Bloch and Hitchcock’s shocking twist works perfectly in Psycho, Sangster’s cinematic mimic simply does not. Once Janet is out of the picture Nightmare is unable to sustain its tension or dramatic momentum.

With beleaguered Janet out of the film, the movie loses not only its principal character but its heart. The mystery of the ghostly figure and subsequent deterioration of Janet’s mental state – the film’s two most compelling elements – are simply abandoned midway through. There are really no surprises in what follows. The two characters we suspect from the beginning as being ne’er-do-wells are, of course, the two who actually are. The only mystery left is whether or not the pair will get away with their devious scheming. And that’s simply not all that exciting.

That’s not to say there’s no value to Nightmare. As one might expect, director Freddie Francis does a proper if workman-like job on the film. The movie offers many of the requisite elements expected of a thriller: twisting doorknobs, tentative walks through long, shadowy corridors, eerie bedside visitations from a mute, ghostly figure and frightened peeks from beneath the shield of a folded blanket.

In a 2013 memoir Francis recalled he was, for the most part, pleased with his work on Nightmare, believing he successfully managed “to sustain the drama and the shock elements.” He would write Sangster’s “excellent script […] was a genuinely scary mystery with of course a sting in the tail.” Author and Hammer historian Jonathan Rigby seems to agree in part, rightfully pointing out that many of Sangster’s psych-thrillers were thinly disguised “Gothic horror films in modern dress.”

Though Francis was well-schooled in the art of cinematic horror, he would admit he was not terribly enthused with the work of his detached cameraman Johnny Wilcox. But the director suggested the atmospherics of the film’s interior photography were buoyed by his keeping “the edges and corners dark thus giving the overall picture a claustrophobic and menacing feel.” Released in April of 1964 as the under-card of a double bill topped by Hammer’s The Evil of Frankenstein (also directed by Francis), Nightmare was met with mixed critical reviews – a considered view shared by many fans of Hammer thrillers ‘til this very day.

Scream Factory promotes their release of Nightmare as a “Collector’s Edition,” and one must say it certainly is that. There are a bevy of featurettes examining this 83 minute film from every conceivable angle. Kim Newman shares his thoughts during the near seventeen-minute study “Sleepless Nights – Reflecting on a Nightmare of a Movie.” Jonathan Rigby clocks a nearly twenty-five minute rumination during his episode “Slice and Fright. If that’s not enough, there’s also “Reliving the Nightmare: Interviews with Actress Julie Samuel and More,” “Nightmare in the Making,” “Jennie Linden Remembers,” and “Madhouse: Inside Hammer’s Nightmare.” If this bounty of extra-features still leaves you dissatisfied – and I can’t imagine why it ever would – there’s also an audio commentary supplied courtesy of film historian Bruce Hallenbeck. To round things off, we’re also gifted with the now expected theatrical trailer and a generous stills gallery.

In some respects, there’s perhaps too many featurettes complimenting a medium-range film that runs less than an hour-and-a-half. The general nuts and bolts background stories regarding the conception and making of Nightmare are shared with repetition by the usual gang of learned subjects – the trainspotting film scholars of British horror. The inclusion of commentaries by those who actually worked on the film partly offer a measure of balance, sharing time-worn memories and occasionally intriguing glimpses of behind-the-scenes moments. If the historians are somewhat guilty of bombarding us with factoids and ruminations of context, footnotes and filmographies, it’s all good, really. Let’s face it, this is the sort of minutiae we Hammer horror wonks live for and have now come to expect.

It’s fair to say that by the time you make it through all of this set’s special features you will know more about Nightmare than you ever thought possible. There are discussions on the influence that such films as Psycho and Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Les Diaboliques (1955) had on Sangster’s work. It’s also suggested that the writer’s inspiration in scripting films in the psyche-thriller genre went back even further than 1955, with nods to such predecessors as Gaslight (1944) and The Spiral Staircase (1946).

The commentaries aren’t necessarily dry and academic. Hearing a bit of gossip is always fun. It’s interesting to learn of Sangster’s anguished reaction when discovering his original script for Nightmare had been critically red penciled in its pre-production margins by Hammer producer James Carreras. Then again, Sangster’s screenplay for Nightmare might have seemed a tad familiar to Carreras. It was in many ways reminiscent of the writer’s own scenario for an earlier Hammer effort Scream of Fear (1961). In any event, Sangster’s work would prove to have long legs. The screenwriter would later sell the storyline – and yet another reworking of the script - to producer Aaron Spelling for the ABC-TV film A Taste of Evil (1971) featuring Barbara Stanwyck.

Anyway, if you’ve read this review this far in, you already know you want this. Aficionados of the horror, mystery, and thrillers of Hammer Films Productions will properly celebrate this U.S. Blu-ray release of Nightmare – and well they should. Scream Factory offers a brand new 2K Scan from an interpositive of the B&W film and the image is stunning, with only the slightest and most unobtrusive white emulsion scratches slipping by now and again. The film is offered here in 1080p High-Definition Widescreen (2.35:1) with English DTS-HD master Audio and removable English subtitles. This is an essential film purchase for collectors of Hammer’s legacy films as well as for fans of intelligently crafted psychological-thrillers in the Psycho and Les Diaboliques vein. But make no mistake about it, Nightmare is, at best, a middle-range Hammer film. It’s neither a classic, nor an embarrassment nor a cheap knock-off. It’s simply a passingly engaging thriller that sadly derails due to unsatisfying and curious scripting issues.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

The Warner Archive has released the 1972 MGM thriller The Carey Treatment on Blu-ray.  James Coburn has one of his best roles as Dr. Peter Carey, a rebellious but esteemed pathologist who moves to Boston to take a prominent position at one of the city's most highly regarded hospitals. The charismatic Carey loses no time in gaining friends, alienating top brass and bedding the comely chief dietician (Jennifer O'Neill). However, he soon finds himself embroiled in a politically volatile investigation when a fellow surgeon is arrested for performing an illegal abortion on the 15 year-old daughter of the hospital's crusty administrator (Dan O'Herlihy). (The movie was released a year before the landmark Roe V. Wade decision that legalized abortion in America and now appears to be on the verge of being reversed.) Coburn believes his friend's protestations of innocence and decides to launch his own investigation into the matter. The case soon unveils a lot of skeletons that some prominent people would prefer to be kept in their closets and Carey finds himself subjected to blackmail and physically assaulted as he comes closer to discovering the shocking truth behind the young girl's death.

The film was a rather low-key affair for director Blake Edwards and there is nothing particularly exceptional about the screenplay, which resembles a rather well-done Columbo episode. However, Coburn has a field day in the role of Carey. He's all teeth and smiles on the exterior but internally he harbors a healthy suspicion of authority figures. Carey can turn on the charm one minute and pummel a thug the next. Refreshingly, he's no superman. He makes mistakes and misjudgments that almost cost him his life. Edwards tries a bit to hard to sandwich some action into what is essentially a methodical mystery story and his instincts betray him in one silly sequence in which Carey virtually kidnaps a teenage girl and subjects her to a death-defying high speed car ride to induce her to reveal information. Nevertheless, the film remains engrossing throughout and Coburn benefits from his chemistry with some fine supporting actors including O'Herlihy, Pat Hingle and Skye Aubrey. He also generates some genuine sparks with O'Neill, who is largely inserted into the screenplay for pure sex appeal.  There's also a fine score by the great film composer Roy Budd.

The movie takes on a rather sobering social relevance when viewed today. With abortion rights dominating the news once again, the film reflects a period when the nation was initially torn apart by the debate- an occurrence that is happening again today. It's doubtful this film won't bring back some disturbing memories of a particularly contentious period in America's social consciousness that has been reawakened.

The film was not a critical or boxoffice success. Blake Edwards accused MGM of butchering his cut of the movie and leaving out vitally important scenes, a scenario that had occurred to director Brian G. Hutton a couple of years before when MGM devastated his vision of Kelly's Heroes. As with that film, the missing footage has never surfaced and is presumed lost forever.

The Carey Treatment is not high art, nor does it pretend to be. However the film reconfirms why Coburn was one of the most charismatic leading men of his day. The fact that he had such a long and distinguished career is something all movie fans can be grateful for. 

The new Blu-ray looks very good indeed and contains the original trailer.

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BY FRED BLOSSER

Although released in February 1942, Warner Brothers’ wartime drama “Captains of the Clouds” was filmed several months earlier, when America’s official stance toward the crisis in Europe, prior to the bombing of Pearl Harbor, remained one of isolationism. As the thinking went, the United States was better off conserving its own human and industrial resources as it continued to stagger back from the Great Depression. Let the combatants overseas fight it out between themselves.

Aware of the movies’ enormous power to sway public opinion, watchdogs in Congress — and in the industry itself — threatened severe action should any studio question the prevailing wisdom. Of a different mind and appalled by Nazi fascism, Harry and Jack Warner produced several movies that shrewdly challenged the restrictions by circumventing them. Thus the villains in Warners’ “Confessions of a Nazi Spy” (1939) were Nazi agents subverting freedom not in faraway Europe, but right here on American soil, where they could be exposed and thwarted by a vigilant FBI. “The Fighting 69th” (1940) and “Sergeant York” (1941) reminded audiences that America had crushed Germany’s war machine in World War I. Not only could we do so again, we should do so again as a spiritual and moral duty, they implied. In “Captains of the Clouds,” directed by Michael Curtiz, the surrogates for American intercession are five veteran Canadian bush pilots who join the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1940 to defend England against the Luftwaffe.

The first part of the picture establishes one of the aviators, Brian MacLean, as a cocky, unscrupulous loner who consistently undercuts his rivals Jimmy (Dennis Morgan), Tiny (Alan Hale), Blimp (George Tobias), and Scrounger (Reginald Gardiner) in their business of flying passengers and cargo from one remote outpost to another in the Ontario back country. James Cagney portrays Brian in fine Cagney style. Nominally, MacLean is the protagonist of the story, but he’s only marginally more sympathetic than Cagney’s ruthless gangsters in “The Public Enemy” and “White Heat.” I suspect that many moviegoers who had barely survived the worst of the Depression secretly envied Cagney’s characters in their determination to stay one jump ahead of everybody else, whatever it took. MacLean gives Dennis Morgan’s earnest Jimmy one more reason to resent him when he puts the moves on Jimmy’s restless sweetheart Emily (Brenda Marshall), and she throws the good boy aside for the bad boy.

Then the war comes into play when the pilots hear Churchill’s inspirational “we shall fight them on the beaches” speech on the radio after the evacuation at Dunkirk. “Now there’s a man who knows how to word an invitation,” Brian marvels. The fliers join up to see active service overseas, not knowing they’re all above the ceiling age of 26 for combat pilots. Instead, disappointed but game, they’re commissioned as flight instructors at Canada’s training bases. Fans of WWII aviation movies may be equally disappointed since the development severely limits the opportunity for dogfights. The picture’s aerial combat is confined to a tense sequence in the final ten minutes, as the pilots become sitting ducks for a Messerschmitt’s machine guns while on emergency assignment to transport Lockheed bombers from Canada to England.

On the other hand, aside from the occasional use of models and back projection, the flight scenes in Canada are the real deal in vivid Technicolor. And thanks to the cooperation of the RCAF, the episodes at Canada’s real-life training fields have a convincing documentarian feel, including an appearance by Air Marshal Billy Bishop, still revered in 1942 for his exploits as a flying ace in World War I. Bishop plays himself in a low-key but ingratiating way as he awards wings to the cadets at their graduation ceremony. Fans may also be comforted that the latter half of the film satisfies the formula they’ve come to expect from a hundred war movies up to and beyond “Top Gun,” dogfights or no. The self-centered hero butts heads with military discipline, suffers a fall from grace with tragic consequences due to his impulsive nature, and then unexpectedly rallies with a final act of redemption.

A new Blu-ray edition of “Captains of the Clouds” from the Warner Archive Collection does full justice to the movie’s Technicolor palette, especially in several outdoor scenes in Canada’s spectacular North Bay wilderness. To simulate a night out at the movies in 1942, special features include a newsreel, a short, two cartoons, and the theatrical trailer. SDH captions are provided for those of us not old enough to remember World War II but well-served by subtitles anyway. Coincidentally, the Blu-ray was released as leaders from the U.S. and its NATO partners continued to debate and tune their response to Putin’s ongoing attack on Ukraine. The parallels with 1942 aren’t exact — for one thing, Hitler didn’t have a nuclear option in his back pocket — but it’s a reminder anyway that the worst facets of history have an unfortunate tendency to repeat themselves.

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

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lorber has released a new DVD edition of John Wayne's late-career detective flick "Brannigan". The 1975 film takes Wayne out of the saddle and deposits him squarely in central London ("The Duke's in London. God Save the Queen!" read the tag line on the film poster.). The "fish-out--of-water" crime thriller concept began with Don Siegel's outstanding "Coogan's Bluff" (1968), which inspired Dennis Weaver's hit rip-off TV series "McCloud". Still, the premise works well with Wayne's tough Chicago Irish cop Jim Brannigan sent to London to extradite a top crime figure, much as Clint Eastwood's Coogan was shipped to New York to bring a criminal back to Arizona. Wayne had gone the detective route the year before in "McQ". He had originally been offered the role of Dirty Harry but correctly assumed his fans would not stand for him playing such an anti-Establishment character. Still, the phenomenal success of that movie made him realize that the Western genre was in decline and that he'd better switch gears occasionally to keep his loyal fans on board. Wayne was said to loathe "McQ". It was a downbeat, cynical look at corruption in the police force. Ironically, for many of his fans, it is regarded as one of the best films from the latter part of his career. Teaming Wayne with an ace director, John Sturges, the film provided the Duke with an intelligent script, surprising plot turns and a less-than-larger-than-life character to portray. The movie did fairly well despite Wayne's reservations so perhaps that is why he immediately returned to the crime film genre with "Brannigan". In reality, Wayne had planned to do a detective film with this title for at least a decade. A 1964 trade industry story announced he would begin filming it in "the near East". The project never happened. When it was dusted off a decade later, it was temporarily titled "Joe Battle" before mercifully assuming its original title. 

Like "McQ", "Brannigan" is a crime thriller but the two films are far apart in terms of style. "Brannigan" is directed by the underrated Douglas Hickox ("Theatre of Blood", "Zulu Dawn") with emphasis on humor, as we see Wayne immediately learn that the crime kingpin he is to escort home (John Vernon) has been allowed to escape. His counterpart is Scotland Yard Inspector Swan, played by Richard Attenborough. This "Odd Couple"-like teaming of two radically different acting styles is one of the true delights of the film. Both Wayne and Attenborough are clearly enjoying each other's company and their good natured "one-upmanship" provides plenty of genuine laughs. As the two detectives relentlessly track down their man, there are plenty of memorable action highlights including a well-staged car chase that includes a jump over the rising Tower Bridge. There's also a major, well-staged pub brawl that's right out of the John Ford playbook.  Director Hickox makes the most of London's fabulous sites, which adds immeasurably to the film's pleasures. (This is only one of two movies to be shot in London's ultra-exclusive private Garrick Club and Hickox makes the most of it, showing off the elegant facility for a sequence in which Brannigan and Swan debate police tactics over lunch.) There is also a spirited, lively performance by Judy Geeson as a young Scotland Yard detective who enjoys a playful but platonic relationship with Brannigan. The supporting cast is a strong one with John Vernon and Mel Ferrer providing the villainy.  Ralph Meeker gets relatively prominent billing but his on-screen appearance lasts little more than a minute, indicating some of his footage may have been left on the cutting room floor. The film climaxes with an assassin trying to gun down Brannigan from a speeding car at the old Beckton Gasworks, a ghastly-looking industrial facility that was memorably used for the pre-credits sequence of the 1981 James Bond film "For Your Eyes Only". All of this is set to a zippy jazz score by Dominic Frontiere that is off-beat for a film in this genre. "Brannigan" is not a late-career Wayne classic in the way that "The Cowboys" and "The Shootist" can be regarded. But it is a hell of a lot of fun and provides Wayne with a role that fit him like a glove. Nearing seventy years old, he could still at this point carry off the action sequences credibly.  

The Kino Lorber transfer is excellent with a crisp, clean image that does justice to the London scenery. Sadly, no commentary track but Kino Lorber does provide the original trailer along with a gallery of trailers for other action flicks available from the company. The sleeve also eschews the standard U.S. artwork of Wayne in a pub brawl in favor of more offbeat artwork from the European campaign showing the Duke firing a pistol. Recommended. 

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

In the 1970s and 1980s  director  Brian De Palma had some high profile hits with Hitchcockian thrillers such as "Sisters", "Obsession", "Dressed to Kill", "Blow Out" and "Body Double". De Palma's defenders extolled the virtues of these films as clever homages to Hitchcock while detractors accused De Palma of using The Master's formulas to make a fast buck. In 1982 director Robert Benton jumped on the same bandwagon with his own Hitchcockian  project, "Still of the Night", which was shot under the title "Stab" before the marketing campaign had been re-evaluated. A few years earlier Benton had triumphed at the Oscars with "Kramer vs. Kramer", taking home the Best Director Oscar. That film also provided an important career boost for Meryl Streep, who also won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. The two were reunited for this project which stands out on both of their credentials as an odd choice. Chances are that when you think of Streep's exalted status in the film community today, the thriller genre is unlikely to come to mind. (Though she did also appear in "The River Wild" and the remake of "The Manchurian Candidate".) Benton, who had directed relatively few films to date, was more accustomed to the genre and perhaps his involvement with this flawed production can be explained by the fact that the basis for the story (which he collaborated on with David Newman) was a real life experience that found him obsessed with a woman who simultaneously excited and frightened him. Certainly it's a sold premise for a thriller and through much of the movie Benton provides a compelling scenario complimented by two excellent actors: Streep and Roy Scheider. The film falls apart in the final act when it begins to resemble less of a homage to Hitchcock than an homage to De Palma's homages to Hitchcock- with a dose of "Play Misty for Me" thrown in (i.e knife wielding killer attacks protagonist on a balcony that overlooks the churning sea.) It's not that "Still of the Night" is bad (though Streep has gone on record as saying it is), it's simply that it hardly seems like it would ever have been compelling enough to attract two recent Oscar winners. 

The film opens in the office of New York City psychiatrist Sam Rice (Scheider). Like most cinematic headshrinkers, he appears to need psychiatric care more than his patients do. He's going through the miseries of a divorce and seems bored and depressed. The only significant female relationship he has is with his mother (Jessica Tandy, who perhaps not coincidentally starred in Hitchcock's "The Birds".) Sam's mundane daily routine takes a dramatic turn when he discovers that a long-time patient, businessman George Bynum (Josef Sommer) has been found stabbed to death in his car on a Manhattan street. From this point some key elements of the story are told in flashback sequences.  Sam remembers Bynum as a sexual predator who had been having an affair with one of his staff workers. Then he meets Brooke Reynolds (Streep), a gorgeous thirty-something blonde who seems both alluring and vulnerable. Bynum confesses that he is obsessed with her and cut off his previous affair in order to engage in one with Brooke. Shortly after Bynum's death, Sam is shocked when Brooke appears at his office, nervous, unsettled and chain-smoking. (Yes, you could smoke in an office in those days.) In the awkward conversation that follows she says the purpose of her visit is to return a wristwatch that Bynum had accidentally left at her apartment. She doesn't want to return it herself for fear of alerting Bynum's widow about the affair he was having with her. From minute one Sam is smitten and intrigued by this quirky, jittery- and stunningly beautiful- young woman. He also realizes that her cover story about the watch is thin. She actually wanted to meet him. Shortly thereafter Sam is visited by Detective Joe Vitucci (Joe Grifasi, channeling every personality cliche you can think of when it comes to a New York  City cop). He asks Sam if he can shed any light on who might be Bynum's killer. Sam informs him that anything he had discussed with Bynum would be protected under doctor/client privilege...but he also finds himself unable to inform Vitucci about Bynum's affair with Brooke. He realizes he is now obsessed with her, just as Bynum was. He strongly suspects that Brooke is Bynum's murderer but can't get her out of his mind. Like Bynum, he's simultaneously sexually stimulated and terrified of her. Nevertheless, he begins finding excuses to see her and his presence seems to have a calming effect on Brooke. The friendship goes to another stage when she responds to his kiss but Sam is too lacking in self-confidence to actually seduce her. Meanwhile he begins to experience some eerie occurrences. He believes someone is stalking him in the basement of his apartment building. As he follows the mysterious Brooke on a nighttime walk through Central Park (a chilling scenario for anyone in those days), he finds himself alone and so unnerved that when a man jumps out of the shadows to mug him, he is actually relieved to have another human being on the scene. Director Benton knows that a sure-fire way to ratchet up suspense is to put the protagonist in a creepy dark house or in an equally unnerving location. However he goes to the well with this plot device a little too often. For a man who lives in the heart of Manhattan, Sam seems to wind up repeatedly in eerie, isolated places. However, some of the sequences are genuinely suspenseful as in the scene in which Sam is in the laundry room of his apartment building, deep in the bowels of the basement. No one is around. There is total isolation when suddenly the lights in an adjoining room inexplicably go out. You can share his sense of increasing panic as he knows  someone is stalking him...but who and why? Refrehingly, Scheider portrays Sam as an everyday guy, not a tough-as-nails hero. He's vulnerable both physically and emotionally throughout.

The film's primary asset is its two stars, both of whom give intense and very convincing performances. There are also the usual plot twists and red herrings one would expect to find in a movie of this genre and Benton for the most part manages to wring some genuine suspense out of it even when he resorts to old gimmicks that include a dream sequence in which Bynum is menaced by an eerie little girl (are there any other kinds of little girls in dream sequences?) It's straight out of "The Shining"  but then again just about everything in "Still of the Night" seems recycled, even though it manages to be engrossing right up until the climax when Benton the screenwriter resorts to every time-worn cliche imaginable: an old dark house, a sacrificial lamb character, a vulnerable hero, a knife-wielding maniac...you get the picture. About all that is missing is John Carradine as a mad scientist. The weak ending feels like it was tossed together at the last minute and doesn't retain the suspense or logic that Benton has managed to build heretofore. Nonetheless, "Still of the Night" is still worth a look if only for the performances and those few genuinely spooky sequences.

(The film is now streaming on Amazon Prime.)

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

The Sony Choice Collection has rescued another long forgotten TV movie from obscurity and released it as a burn-to-order title. "Kiss Me...Kill Me" is a crime thriller that was originally telecast in 1976. Compared to similar fare from that era, the film is fairly routine, though it might well be more appreciated today than it was at the time of its original airing. This is due to the fact that it boasts a strong cast of seasoned veteran actors- something that was relatively common in the 1970s, when the concept of TV movies became very popular. Most of these productions had star power and audiences enjoyed seeing some of their favorite movie stars on the small screen. "Kiss Me...Kill Me" stars Stella Stevens as Stella Stafford, an L.A-based investigator for the District Attorney's office. She is assigned to an especially disturbing murder case involving Maureen Coyle (Tisha Sterling), a respected young woman who teaches at a school for handicapped children. Maureen suffers from a disability herself: she has a leg disorder that causes her to walk with a limp. When she is discovered murdered in her apartment, the D.A.'s office is put under pressure to find the culprit behind the especially gruesome killing. Stella is assigned to work the case with veteran detective Harry Grant (Claude Akins). The two are old friends- and perhaps more. They interact with intimate familiarity and socialize at Stella's apartment. Harry's career has been in decline and views this case as a way of re-establishing his reputation. Before long, he has his first suspect: Edward Fuller (Robert Vaughn), an elitist owner of a major advertising agency who was seen lurking around Maureen's apartment building prior to the murder. Under questioning, he is less than co-operative and can't provide a logical reason for his being there in the dead of night. In looking into Maureen's personal life, a shocking secret emerges. Turns out she enjoyed kinky, rough sex and was known to frequent a seedy bar trolling for one night stands. Ultimately, Harry finds another suspect: a young black man named Hicks (Charles Weldon) who admits to having bedded Maureen. Harry's strong-armed tactics results in the down-and-out Hicks eventually confessing to the killing but Stella suspects he is not the real killer. This puts her at odds with Harry, who accuses her of sabotaging his case by continuing the investigation beyond Hicks, who she feels was coerced into confessing. Ultimately, the trail leads to Douglas Lane (Bruce Boxleitner), an arrogant young hunk who was using Fuller as a sugar daddy. Fuller is clearly infatuated with Lane and tries to buy his love and respect but all he gets is public humiliation. Stella becomes convinced that Lane is the real killer but trying to prove it could cost her her own life.

"Kiss Me...Kill Me" is rather provocative for a TV movie from this period, though overt discussion of S&M sex and gay relationships have to be hinted at rather than explicitly discussed. The film contains some rather routine chase scenes and action sequences but the script is more successful in regard to presenting some interesting characters and developing their relationships. The tensions between Stella and Harry boil over to the breaking point and there is good on-screen chemistry between Stella Stevens and Claude Akins, one of cinema's best "second bananas" who gets a rare leading man role here. It's also interesting to note that Stevens is the real star of this movie in an era when actresses were breaking the glass ceiling and emerging as popular action stars. (Think "Police Woman", "Wonder Woman" and "Charlie's Angels", all of which came about within a couple of years of each other.)  The best performance is by Robert Vaughn, who boldly discards his image at a suave ladies man to play a weak, vulnerable aging gay man. In one scene he is publicly humiliated by the bisexual object of his affection and instead of going Napoleon Solo on the guy, Vaughn's character meekly endures the shame. It's a cringe-inducing scene that makes you feel sympathy for a character who is not very sympathetic. The are some other veteran actors in the flick, which helps elevate its status. They include Michael Anderson Jr, Dabney Coleman, Steve Franken and even Pat O'Brien as an elderly, wise-cracking morgue worker. In all, a rather enjoyable visit back in time to the glorious era of '70s TV movies. Let's hope Sony keeps making these long-unseen productions available. 

The transfer is excellent but the release, unsurprisingly, has no extras.  

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WARNER BROS. HOME ENTERTAINMENT ANNOUNCES THE BELOVED CLASSIC

SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN TO BE RELEASED ON 4K ULTRA HD BLU-RAY™

Acclaimed as one of the greatest MUSICAL films of all time,

will BE AVAILABLE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 4K RESOLUTION WITH HIGH DYNAMIC RANGE (HDR)

BURBANK, CA, – To celebrate the 70^th anniversary of the 1952 acclaimed and beloved film, Warner Bros. Home Entertainment announced today that Singin’ In The Rain will be released on Ultra HD Blu-ray Combo Pack and Digital on April 26.

Singin’ In The Rain is widely considered to be one of the greatest musical films in cinematic history. The musical romantic comedy was directed by choreographed by Gene Kelly (On the Town) and Stanley Donen (On the Town) and stars Kelly, Donald O’Connor, Debbie Reynolds, Jean Hagen, Millard Mitchel and Cyd Charisse.

The film was written by Adolph Green and Betty Comden and produced by Arthur Freed. The music is by Nacio Herb Brown and the lyrics are by Arthur Freed.

O'Connor won the Golden Globe Award for Best Actor – Motion Picture Musical or Comedy, and Betty Comden and Adolph Green won the Writers Guild of America Award for their screenplay, while Jean Hagen was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress.

In 1989, Singin' in the Rain was one of the first 25 films selected by the United States Library of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry for being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant". The film ranked 10th on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Movies list, 16th on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Laughs list, 16th on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Passions list, “Singin’ In The Rain” was 3rd on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Songs list, and the film was number 1 on AFI’s Greatest Movie Musicals list.

Ultra HD* showcases 4K resolution with High Dynamic Range (HDR) and a wider color spectrum, offering consumers brighter, deeper, more lifelike colors for a home entertainment viewing experience like never before.  

In addition, the remastered film will screen at the TCM Film Festival on April 24**. For more information, please visit https://filmfestival.tcm.com.

TCM Big Screen Classics will also present the 70th anniversary of Singin' In The Rain in theaters this April in the US. Tickets are on sale now, go to www.FathomEvents.com for more details.

Singin’ In The Rain will be available on Ultra HD Blu-ray Combo Pack for $24.99 SRP and features an Ultra HD Blu-ray disc with the feature film in 4K with HDR and a Blu-ray disc of Singin’ In The Rain. Fans can also own Singin’ In The Rain in 4K Ultra HD via purchase from select digital retailers beginning on April 26th.

Ultra HD Blu-ray and Blu-ray Elements

Singin’ In The Rain Blu-ray contains the following previously released special features:

Commentary by Debbie Reynold, Donald O’Connor, Cyd Charisse, Kathleen Freeman, Stanley Donen, Betty Camden, Adolph Green, Bad Lurhmann and Rudy Behlmer.

Singin’ in the Rain: Raining on a New Generation Documentary

Theatrical Trailer

DIGITAL DISTRIBUTION ELEMENTS

On April 26, Singing In The Rain 4K UHD will be available to own for streaming and download to watch anywhere in high definition and standard definition on favorite devices from select digital retailers including GooglePlay, Vudu, Xbox and others, and will be made available digitally on Video On Demand services from cable and satellite providers, and on select gaming consoles.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

"Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood" is an acclaimed 2017 documentary by director Matt Tyrnauer, that centers on one Scotty Bowers, who passed away in 2019 but who lived to see the release of the film, which chronicles his rather eyebrow-raising adventures in Tinseltown. Who was Scotty Bowers? To the average person, his name won't ring any bells unless they read his autobiography, "Full Service" which was considered to be a "must" among movie fans who relish stories about the sex lives of legendary actors, actresses and directors. The film opens with Bowers, then in his 90s but seemingly as fit as a fiddle, enthusiastically promoting his book at signing sessions where he engages with appreciative admirers. Just what made Bowers unique enough to merit a feature-length documentary? He was always open about his experiences in old Hollywood in terms of providing sexual favors for both men and women, though his preference clearly seems to have been with the former. Bowers would have to have been classified as bisexual since we see him with his wife of 34 years, who apparently was ignorant of his past as a stud-for-hire during most of their time together. When we meet the couple, they are crammed into a once lovely house in L.A. (one of two that had been bequeathed to Bowers by grateful rich male lovers). Now, however, Bowers and his long-suffering spouse must contend with mile-high mountains of paperwork and clutter that would make for an episode of "Hoarders". Always affable and upbeat, Bowers unreservedly recounts his memories of his sexual encounters with the rich and famous in the days when being outed as a homosexual would mean the death knell on a career. The hypocrisy was staggering, of course, because Hollywood was populated by big names who everyone in the industry knew were gay or lesbian, even if the carefully-crafted studio publicity machines managed to keep their fans in the dark.

Those looking for salacious anecdotes won't be disappointed as Bowers recounts his life story He grew up in rural Illinois and joined the Marines in WWII, seeing life-altering combat during his stint. Upon returning to the States after the war, he got a nondescript job pumping gas at a service station on Hollywood Boulevard. He worked long hours, so he had a small trailer on the premises where he could grab some shut-eye. According to Bowers, one day actor Walter Pidgeon stopped by for gas and ended up inviting the hunky Bowers to his home for nude swimming and other activities. (Ahem...) Through Pidgeon, Bowers soon was being paid to provide sexual services for other prominent people, often accommodating them for money in his trailer at the gas station. Not one to keep a good thing to himself, Bowers would arrange to let other gay men use the trailer for clandestine get-togethers. Before long, the place was seeing more traffic than an L.A. freeway, but remarkably, Bowers was never found out or arrested. His status in the gay community spread and Bowers was making good money for providing his services, though in the documentary he takes pains to deny he was ever a pimp. He maintains that he never was paid for arranging for sex between other people, which he claims he did simply as favors. Many of the legends he cites as being secretly gay or bisexual are hardly shocking (Rock Hudson, George Cukor, Cole Porter, Charles Laughton and "bachelor roommates" Cary Grant and Randolph Scott.) Others, however, were new to me, including Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn, those long-time lovers who Bowers says weren't lovers at all. He maintains their "romance" was a sham designed to cover up the fact that both Tracy and Hepburn were homosexuals. Adding more spice to his stories is that he claims they were among many other Hollywood legends who he had sex with. But wait- it doesn't stop there! He also claims that the Duke of Windsor (and former king) and his wife (more commonly known as Edward and Mrs. Simpson) were both bisexual and that he had threesomes with them. 

Director Tyrnauer provides plenty of vintage film clips throughout the documentary including some brief snippets of hardcore home movies of Scotty and his male pals. The stories are certainly sensational and Bowers comes across as likeable and unapologetic because he felt he was simply helping people in the oppressed gay community find some joy in life. But are his stories true? While he certainly tells these tales convincingly and in some cases is backed up by other talking heads, there's no real attempt to hold him to account to provide any definitive evidence. There is only one person at a book signing event who chastises him for waiting until all of the celebrities he writes about were dead and buried before going public with these sensational claims. Bowers dismisses him quickly but the point still gnawed at me while watching the film, as it does whenever the subjects of scandals are no longer around to defend themselves. Nevertheless, there is much that is undeniably true about the experience of being gay in the film industry of days gone by. However, one should ask if things are really much different today. Certainly, being out of the closet is ostensibly embraced by the film community but one seriously doubts whether a macho leading actor today would still be employable if they came out of the closet simply because the industry is just as hypocritical as ever.  

The film is currently available for streaming rental or purchase on Amazon. Highly recommended, assuming you're broad-minded about Bowers' penchant for describing his activities in a jovial but graphic manner.

In this 2013 entry of "Trailers from Hell", John Landis dissects Norman Jewison's landmark 1966 Cold War comedy classic "The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming." 

By Hank Reineke

Just following Christmas of 1940, Box Office reported Paramount’s new thriller The Mad Doctor would hit cinemas on Valentine’s Day of 1941. The actual sneak-preview – and accompanying publicity push - of the film would take place ten days prior, February 4, at Los Angeles’s Paramount Theater. Then, on Saturday night, February 6, the studio would pull out all the stops, offering a proper premiere for their “blood-chilling drama.” The studio would celebrate the double-bill of The Mad Doctor and The Monster and the Girl as central to a “Spook Week” celebration. Saturday’s “hair-raising” program would not only feature the films but also a magician and Andy Kirk and his Harlem Orchestra… the latter performing their swinging “Spooks and Boogie Woogie” stage show.

The general release of The Mad Doctor, more fittingly described a “drama” than a horror film in industry trades, was pushed to February 20. Perhaps issuing a blood-letting, wife-offing film on Valentine’s Day was considered poor taste, or maybe not. In any event, The Mad Doctor opened to mixed reviews, ranging from “pretty good” to “poor entertainment.” There were certainly no raves, most critics finding the film lackluster and derivative. The scenario was a basic one, they reminded, mildly reminiscent of Charles Perrault’s 1697 fabled folktale Bluebeard. (PRC’s Bluebeard (1944), starring John Carradine as the titular murderer, was still more than years away from hitting screens). There were also suggestions The Mad Doctor was very similar to Rowland V. Lee’s 1937 British chiller Love from a Stranger.” The comparison to this latter film was not unfair. That film, partly based on an Agatha Christie mystery, also featured Basil Rathbone as a charming womanizer who murders paramours for their dowries.

In the first few minutes of director Tim Whelan’s The Mad Doctor, Basil Rathbone’s Dr. George Sebastien, an eminent psychiatrist, has already left a trail of formerly betrothed bodies behind in Vienna, Savannah, and in the village of Midbury, NY. He has been abetted in his scheming by murderous accomplice Maurice (Martin Kosleck). Maurice may, or may not, have sexual feelings for Sebastien. This inference of a homosexual relationship between these two ne’er-do-wells hangs awkwardly in subtle dialogue parries and glancing looks between the two. But, this being 1941, one can only assume why this element is not explored further.

Shortly following his bumping off of wife number three, Sebastien decides to moves his head-shrinking practice to midtown Manhattan. It’s there that he’s asked by Louise Watkins (Barbara Jo Allen), the wife of a wealthy newspaper publisher Lawrence Watkins (Hugh O’Connell), to address the melancholic behavior of a sister Linda Boothe (Ellen Drew). Though she’s beautiful and lacks for nothing, the grim but glamorous Linda routinely suffers dreams where she stands at the “edge of the grave looking down.” Her morbid visions drives her to suicidal attempts. We watch as she prepares to jump from the parapet of a high-rise skyscraper. But the girl’s plunge is foiled by the quick intervention of would-be suitor Gil Sawyer (John Howard).

The girl clearly is in need of mental health counseling. Though concerned about Linda’s “suicide complex,” Sawyer more selfishly, if correctly, sizes up handsome psycho-therapist Sebastien as a romantic rival. He disparages Sebastien as a “half-baked soul meddler,” assuring Linda (in ignorance) she suffers from nothing greater than “ordinary hypochondria.” Sawyer cunningly uses his platform as a newspaperman to publish a series of unflattering articles on the practice of psychotherapy in the New York Sun. He hopes to expose Sebastien as the biggest quack of the profession. But his research into the doctor’s past leads him to suspect the therapist might very well be a homicidal maniac. So when a half-hypnotized Linda agrees to accept Dr. Sebastien’s proposal of marriage, there’s reason to worry.

Though eight decades have passed since The Mad Doctor hit theaters, it’s hard not to agree with the original critical assessments published upon release. Personally, I’m a soft touch for old, creaky and gloomy celluloid mysteries of the 1930s and 1940s, but what critics moaned as true eighty years ago remains true today. The cast is good, the New York City penthouse atmosphere elegant and classy, but the film, alas, is a slow drag. Technically, the film is not even a mystery. It’s no spoiler to reveal Rathbone’s character as the de facto serial wife-killer and misogynist. This revelation is made plain in the film’s first few minutes. The only mystery here is how and when this will be revealed to fellow cast members.

Box Office dismissed The Mad Doctor as” not good enough to grace the upper half of the bill save in the most unimportant program arrangements.” Variety was in agreement sighing, “Pictures are supposed to move, but ‘Mad Doctor’ has a difficult time getting anywhere.” The review continued, “This cumbersome film, running 90 minutes could have been cut to 60 and still there would have been little meat.” It’s unfortunate but true. The Mad Doctor is, at best, a middling B picture masquerading as a something better. There’s very little suspense, hardly any action nor mystery present to keep moviegoers on the edge of their seat. A full-page Paramount in-production announcement published in June 1940 promised, “Basil plays a ‘Jekyll’ and ‘Hyde’ role in the heart chiller!” But the resulting film is unable to deliver any of the promised thrills.

The Mad Doctor is neither a great film nor, to be fair, a terribly poor one.  Despite its elegant trappings, it’s merely another B programmer, the sort of thing Monogram or PRC might have knocked out with less polish or window dressing.  The film is mostly doomed by its ninety-minute running time.  There’s enough on screen to suggest The Mad Doctor might have been a more exciting offering if condensed by a modicum of judicious editing.  But, truthfully, there are other dooming issues aside from the film’s length. Howard J. Green’s screenplay is odd in construction; so much so that his paint-by-numbers scenario offers cinemagoers few moments of audience engagement. 

To be fair, Green was brought on to rework an already troubled script (The Monster) that had been knocking about the Paramount lot for years. Screenwriters Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur had been trying to get their script of The Monster into production as early as 1935. Variety reported in January 1936 the pair was even bringing aboard Charles Lederer, visiting Hollywood from New York, to assist in the film’s scripting. The problem was Paramount was simply not interested in it.

This caused the writers to - unsuccessfully - try and finagle a deal for The Monster with the British arm of the Gaumont Film Company in the summer of 1936. Gaumont too would pass, the project remaining in limbo until September 1939 when Paramount finally opted to purchase story rights. On October 28, 1939, Box Office reported the studio had engaged Green to write the script, with neither Hecht, MacArthur nor Lederer receiving screen credit for their contributions. Perhaps this was a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth: the resulting patchwork script is demonstrably less the sum of its parts.  

The original supporting feature of this double-bill from Paramount was Stuart Heisler’s The Monster and the Girl, another B film that also would feature Ellen Drew as the damsel-in -distress.  Though not a classic by any stretch, at least that film (working title, The Avenging Brain) is a bit of fun: Drew fights off a gorilla whose simian cerebellum has been replaced by that of a vengeful gangster. At least The Monster and the Girl half-delivers on what it promises. Something that, sadly, cannot be said of The Mad Doctor.

This Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu ray of The Mad Doctor is presented here in an aspect ratio of 1.37:1 in 1920p x 1080p with removable English subs and DTS monaural sound. The set also features an audio commentary track supplied by film historian David Del Valle, as well as the film’s theatrical trailer. Visually, I suspect this film is going to look as good as it ever will. It’s doubtful this title will ever receive a meticulous and expensive restoration; that would be an effort this film would arguably not merit.  The print used for transfer is not immaculate, but only God - and a few film techs - would know the condition of the surviving elements used.  Medium shots tend to appear a bit soft-focused, but close-up photography appears sharp with clarity.  There are passing sprinkles of visual debris and evidence of minor base and emulsion scratches, but these are minor issues that do not distract.      

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We've been addicted to Joe Dante's "Trailers from Hell" website for many years. If you haven't experienced its retro-related treasures, it's time you did. What is "Trailers from Hell"? Well, who better to ask than the esteemed director himself. Here's Joe's description:

"Around 2007 I was in a quandry as to what to do with my 35mm trailer collection. Opportunities to screen this kind of material were pretty rare, even in Hollywood. So I thought, why not put them up on the internet? But that seemed underwhelming by itself, so I decided to add some voiceover commentaries on my own. I think the first ones I tackled were The Terror, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman  and The Unearthly. At first the idea was to mainly cover sci-fi and horror titles, but when a few of my friends got wind of the idea they asked to broaden the sphere and talk about their own choices. So anything we could find a trailer for was fair game. It took awhile, but soon our roster of commentators (we call them Grindhouse Gurus) started to swell. The only rule was they had to be film professionals, not critics or academics. Today we proudly feature commentaries by over 75 contributors, running the gamut from early adopters like John Landis and Edgar Wright to the likes of Guillermo del Toro, John Sayles, Illeana Douglas and Roger and Julie Corman. We have writers, directors, producers and craftspeople of all kinds, each with their own unique takes on movies they think other people should know about.

Part of the impetus for all this was the fact that younger audiences tend to be unfamiliar with the treasures of the past, even the recent past. There are just so many other attractions competing for their eyeballs. With almost two thousand entries, TFH hopes to make a dent in the miasma of "stuff" that's cluttering all our lives and alert people to movies and artists they may not have encountered anywhere else. It's kind of a mission for us. And it's fun! And now, having added our podcast The Movies That Made Me, we're finally gaining some traction. We certainly feel it's something that would appeal to readers of Cinema Retro, and thanks for your support in the past."- Joe Dante

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

"Young Billy Young" is the kind of film of which it can be said, "They don't make 'em like that anymore". Not because the movie is so exceptional. In fact, it isn't exceptional on any level whatsoever. Rather, it's the sheer ordinariness of the entire production that makes one pine away for an era in which top talent could be attracted to enjoyable, if unremarkable, fare such as this. Such films, especially Westerns, were churned out with workmanlike professionalism to play to undemanding audiences that didn't require mega-budget blockbusters to feel they got their money's worth at the boxoffice. Sadly, such movies have largely gone the way of the dodo bird. In today's film industry, bigger must always be better and mid-range flicks such as are no longer made. However, through home video releases such as Kino Lorber's Blu-ray of "Young Billy Young" and streaming services such as Amazon Prime, it's possible to still enjoy the simple pleasures that such movies provide.  

The story opens with botched robbery in Mexico committed by Billy Young (Robert Walker) and some cohorts including Jesse (David Carradine). The plan to steal horses from the Mexican military goes awry and Billy is forced to split from his fellow robbers with the army in hot pursuit. Making his way back across the border to New Mexico, he is penniless and desperate. He has a chance encounter with Ben Kane (Robert Mitchum), a tough, sarcastic older man who he encounters again in a nearby town. Here, Billy is being cheated at cards by the local sheriff, who goads him into a gunfight. Billy ends up killing him but stands to be framed for the sheriff's death. He's saved by Ben, who rides along with him to another town where Ben has agreed to take on the job of lawman. Ostensibly he is there to keep order and collect back taxes from deadbeats but in reality, he is on a mission of revenge. Some years before, Ben's son had been gunned down by a criminal named Boone (John Anderson) and Kane has learned that Boone is a presence in the new town and that he is being protected by a local corrupt businessman, John Behan (Jack Kelly). Ben makes his presence known immediately by enforcing the law in a strict manner. He's confronted by Behan, who tries to intimidate him. This results in Behan being slapped around by Kane. Behan also grows to resent the new lawman because he is flirting with his mistress, saloon entertainer Lily Beloit (Angie Dickinson). When Behan abuses her as punishment, he gets another beating from Kane. Meanwhile, Billy runs into Jesse and accuses him of having deserted him in Mexico. The two men fight it out and Jesse is later involved with the accidental shooting of the town's beloved doctor while in the employ of Behan. Kane learns that Jesse is Boone's son and holds him in jail as bait for Boone to come out of hiding. The plan works all too well. Boone turns up with a small army and lays siege to the jailhouse where Kane and Billy are holed up.

"Young Billy Young" was compared to a TV show by New York Times critic Howard Thompson on the basis that it contains so many standard elements of westerns from this time period. There is the bad girl with the heart of gold, the evil business tycoon, the brash young gun and his wiser, older mentor, the heroes outnumbered by superior forces and a lovable old coot (played against type by Paul Fix in full Walter Brennan/Gabby Hayes mode.) Yet somehow it all works very well, thanks mostly to Robert Mitchum's stalwart presence. With his trademark ramrod stiff walk and cool persona, Mitchum tosses off bon mots like a frontier version of 007. Even the Times acknowledged that "Mitchum can do laconic wonders with a good wise-crack". He has considerable chemistry with Dickinson, though the action between the sheets is more implied than shown. Robert Walker Jr. acquits himself well in the title role and David Carradine makes an impression even with limited screen time. The film was directed by Burt Kennedy, an old hand at directing fine westerns in reliable, if not remarkable, style and it all culminates in a rip-snorting shoot-out that is genuinely exciting. The fine supporting cast includes Willis Bouchey, Parley Baer and Deanna Martin (Dino's daughter) in her acting debut.  One oddball element to the film: Mitchum croons the title song over the opening credits. If this sounds strange, keep in mind that Mitchum improbably once had a hit album of calypso music. 

The film is currently streaming on Amazon Prime

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BY EVE GOLDBERG

Ronnie’s, a 2020 documentary, tells the story of Ronnie Scott and his legendary London jazz club.

From the opening sequence in which virtuoso pianist Oscar Peterson and his band perform in an exuberant split screen montage, the film announces itself as a vehicle where style reflects content, and the filmmakers really know how to present their material in a compelling way.

The documentary recounts how Ronnie Scott, a poor Jewish kid from London’s East End, becomes a top British jazz saxophonist in the 1940s and 50s. Eventually tiring of big band swing, and inspired by the new music of Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker, Scott forms his own Bebop ensemble. In 1959, Scott and his fellow musician and business partner, Pete King, open their own nightclub—Ronnie Scott’s. It doesn’t take long for their club to become the premiere jazz spot in London, and a must-visit venue for jazz musicians and jazz lovers from around the world.

The documentary includes performance clips, some extended, by Miles Davis, Buddy Rich, Nina Simone, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Ben Webster, Sarah Vaughn, Sonny Rollins, Ella Fitzgerald, and others. Much of the performance footage comes from a filmed concert at Ronnie’s in 1969. There’s also a strange, almost cringe-worthy performance by Van Morrison doing “Send in the Clowns,” accompanied by Chet Baker on trumpet.

Besides chronicling the club’s history, the film also tells the story of Scott himself, who was plagued by depression throughout his life. His depression was at times debilitating. Music was his savior—until it wasn’t. Interviewees include Scott, his two significant others, his daughter, business associates, and music luminaries such as Quincy Jones.

Writer/director Oliver Murray and editor Paul Trewartha bring the music, history, and personal tale to life through inspired editorial choices such as presenting almost all the interviews as voice over—leaving more room for the captivating archival and performance footage.

If the film follows the now-clichéd story arc of humble beginnings, to rise-to-the-top success, to fall, to redemption (in this case, the revitalization of Scott’s club after his death), then so be it. Within that familiar trajectory is emotional depth, fascinating cultural history, and, of course, the music.

Ronnie’s is available on DVD from Greenwich Entertainment. It’s also currently streaming on several platforms. 102 minutes. Bonus features: trailers.

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BY TIM GREAVES 

In the early 1980s, Israeli cousins and co-producers Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus – the men behind then-thriving outfit The Cannon Group – decided that they would like to add an old-fashioned style horror film to their burgeoning library of titles. They approached director Peter Walker, renowned for a slew of successful exploitation pictures throughout the 1970s, suggesting he create something for the likes of Bela Lugosi, Peter Lorre and Boris Karloff, blissfully unaware the three actors were dead. Regardless, Walker took the baton and ran with it, the result being 1983’s rather splendid House of the Long Shadows.

Probably best remembered for assembling icons of horror cinema Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Vincent Price and John Carradine under one roof, House of the Long Shadows didn’t wow critics at the time and with hindsight it’s easy to see why. Times had moved on since the relatively harmless monster flicks of the 1930s and 40s and audiences were becoming accustomed to seeing grisly fare such as Friday the 13^th, Halloween and the nerve-shredding remake of The Thing. Nevertheless, Cannon had requested a throwback to those old movies and that’s what Walker delivered, being sure to tick all the requisite clichéd boxes; an imposing house, creaking floorboards, lightning storms, hidden tunnels, furtive sideways glances, locked doors to attic rooms, and a series of murders that wouldn’t be out of place in And Then There Were None were all present and correct.

After he was initially approach by Golan and Globus, Walker had tried unsuccessfully to acquire the rights to restage The Old Dark House. He then turned to screenwriter Michael Armstrong, who conjured up a story based upon the 1913 novel “Seven Keys to Baldpate” by Earl Derr Biggers, playwright and creator of Charlie Chan. Shooting took place on location at Rotherfield Park in East Tisted (near Alton) in Hampshire.

The plot is a simple one. An American novelist (Desi Arnaz, Jr) accepts a $20,000 bet from his publisher (Richard Todd) that challenges him to write a classic chiller in one night. He travels to Wales and pitches up in a long-unoccupied manor house at Bllyddpaetwr – pronounced Baldpate – convinced that the surroundings will furnish him with the all the inspiration he needs. Unfortunately,his attempts to get started are hindered by the arrival of an assortment of mysterious visitors who, as the night progresses, are revealed to have more in common first apparent.

The aforementioned titans of terror aside, joining them on screen are Walker regular Sheila Keith (who only ever got to play unpleasant characters, yet by all accounts was the sweetest woman you could hope to meet), Julie Peasgood, Richard Hunter, Louise English and (fleetingly) Norman Rossington. What a fantastic cast, eh?

But naturally enough the big draw is the four main stars. Lee is his usual reliably imposing presence, commanding your attention every time he’s on screen. Cushing turns in a particularly memorable performance; hobbled by an endearing speech impediment – he can’t pronounce his Rs – his character also gets to deliver one of the film’s best bits of dialogue as he melancholically explains why he’s such a timid man. Price meanwhile gets the cream pf the blackly pithy lines (upon discovering the body of a character who’s been strangled with piano wire he remarks, deadpan, “They must have heard her singing.”). Carradine appears to struggle a tad, occasionally not looking too sure where he is (he was in his late 70s at the time this was made), but his performance is nothing to be ashamed of and somehow that adds to the quirky charm of the piece.

With a runtime of 121-minutes, it’s a bloated affair and could certainly have lost several scenes in which characters wander around lost in the maze of tunnels; it doesn’t make for tedious viewing as such, but they fail to move the story along. All the same, as the climax approaches there are some nifty little twists and at the end of the day it’s a pleasure to watch, if only to bask in the fun that Cushing, Lee and Price evidently had making it.

Neglected for years, House of the Long Shadows finally got to see a belated release to DVD ten years ago and Region A Blu-ray from Kino Lorber a few years back. Fans can now rejoice; it has been spruced up for a Region 2 Blu-Ray release from Fabulous Films, including a host of worthy supplements. The film itself has always suffered from a slight murkiness, but here it looks better than ever it has and is accompanied by an optional commentary track from Peter Walker and Derek Pykett. The standout among the bonus inclusions is a feature-length documentary, “Return to House of the Long Shadows”, originally shot and directed by Pykett – who clearly holds the film in great esteem – in 2012. Running only 15-minues less than the movie itself, much like that it might have benefited from a little judicious editing, but it’s nonetheless an invaluable treasure trove of information and reminiscences. Built around a revisit to Rotherfield Park by Walker, actress Julie Peasgood (who barely seems to have aged a day) and cinematographer Norman Langley, it boasts an impressive collection of additional interviews with actors Desi Arnaz, Jr, Richard Hunter and Louise English, production designer Michael Pickwoad, production manager Jeanne Ferber, writer Michael Armstrong, camera operator John Simmons, costume designer Alan Flyng and composer Richard Harvey. Additionally, there’s a separate 15-minute interview with Walker, a short step-through gallery of stills and a trailer.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

"The Deadly Affair", directed by Sidney Lumet, is the 1967 film based on John Le Carre's 1961 novel "Call for the Dead". Le Carre was riding high during the Bond-inspired Bond phenomenon of the 1960s. Unlike the surrealistic world of 007, Le Carre's books formed the basis for gritty and gloomy espionage stories that were steeped in realism and cynicism. The film adaptation of Le Carre's "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold" had been released the previous year to great acclaim. Lumet, who made "The Deadly Affair" for his own production company, rounded up top flight British talent including screenwriter Paul Dehn, who had written the film adaptation of "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold" and  co-wrote the screenplay for "Goldfinger".

As with all Le Carre film adaptations, the plot is complex to the point of being confusing. There are many intriguing characters of dubious allegiance to one another, a scarcity of violence in favor of people talking in back alleys and living rooms and a desire to paint the world of Cold War espionage as a tawdry environment in which the good guys are indistinguishable from the bad guys. James Mason plays Charles Dobbs, a veteran British Intelligence agent who takes a leisurely walk through St. James Park with a civil servant, Fennan (Robert Flemyng),who is aspiring to get a promotion to the Foreign Office. Dobbs informs him that there is a bit of concern about his security clearance because an anonymous person has tipped off MI6 through a letter that states Fennan's may have a dual allegiance to the communists. Dobbs considers the matter somewhat trivial and tries to assure Fennan that his name will probably be cleared. The men part on seemingly upbeat terms but the next day Dobbs is told by his superiors that Fennan has committed suicide. Dobbs is flabbergasted and insists the man showed no signs of instability. Nevertheless, Dobbs feels he is being made to be the fall guy for failing to see obvious weaknesses in Fennan's personality. That's not his only problem. Domestically, his young wife Ann (Harriett Andersson) is causing him great distress by taking on numerous lovers under his very nose. (Dobbs is even instructed to phone her before he comes home in case she has a bed mate in their house.) Dobbs is humiliated at playing the role of cuckold but can't bring himself to divorce Ann- even when it is revealed that his old friend Dieter (Maximilian Schell), a German Intelligence agent who is visiting London, has also been seduced by her.

Dobbs smells a rat at MI6 and doubts Fennan committed suicide. He starts his own investigation into who killed him and why. An interview with Fennan's widow (Simone Signoret) only makes matters more complex when he begins to suspect she might be a Soviet agent. Dobbs enlists the only two colleagues he can trust: agent Bill Appleby (Kenneth Haigh) and the semi-retired agent Mendel (Harry Andrews). The trio find that as they get closer to the truth, the trail is getting more dangerous with numerous murders occurring and their own lives in danger.

To bring Le Carre's novel to the screen, certain recurring characters from his books, such as legendary spy George Smiley, had to have their names changed because Paramount had the rights to "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold" and the characters appeared in the novel and screen version. Paul Dehn's screenplay is confusing but never boring and by the end you can pretty much figure out what is going on even if some of the peripheral characters' significance remains a bit vague. Sidney Lumet was the ultimate "actor's director" and could always be counted on to get top-rate performances from his cast. "The Deadly Game" is no exception, with James Mason in fine form as a man who has been disgraced professionally and personally but who still has enough pride to attempt to clear his name. Lumet hired two fine actors who appeared in his 1965 masterwork "The Hill"- Harry Andrews and Roy Kinnear- to reunite for this production and they have a great scene together. (Andrews must be one of the most under-rated actors of all time.) Maximilian Schell only appears sporadically but his role is pivotal and he is typically impressive, as is Simone Signoret as a woman of doubtful allegiance. Harriett Andersson, whose proficiency in English was limited, is occasionally difficult to understand (she was reportedly partially dubbed because of this). She accepted the role at the last minute when Candice Bergen had to back out of the film. She is suitably sultry and her character is quite interesting, professing to love her husband even as she revels in submitting him to sexual humiliation. The only humor in the film is provided by a very amusing Lynn Redgrave in a small role as Virgin Bumpus (!), an inept set designer for a Shakespearean theater production. Quincy Jones provides a fine jazz score that fits in well with the lounge music craze of the era and Freddie Young's cinematography depicts London as an ominous, rain-spattered place that adds to the chilling atmosphere of any Le Carre story. Adding to the impressive roster of talents involved with the film are Quincy Jones, who provides a fine jazzy score and cinematographer Freddie Young. Sidney Lumet wanted to film the production in B&W but the studio insisted on color. Thus, the ever-inventive Young created a process to intentionally make the scenes look drab and dubbed it "colorless color."

Although John Le Carre was not overly-impressed with the film, he did joke that he was beguiled by Harriet Andersson's nude scene. Le Carre's opinion aside, "The Deadly Affair" was highly acclaimed in Britain, having been nominated for five BAFTA awards but it was largely overlooked amidst the tidal wave of other spy movies from the time period. It's a first-rate thriller and Indicator have done it justice with an equally excellent Blu-ray special edition, which is happily region-free and features a high definition remaster. In addition, the Blu-ray contains the following special edition features:

• Original mono audio sound
• An excellent commentary track by film historians Michael Brooke and Johnny Mains
• "The Guardian Lecture with Sidney Lumet", a wonderful audio recording of a 1983 interview at the National Film Theatre conducted by Derek Malcolm, who gets the low-key director to discuss his own movies and the general state of cinema. Interestingly, even in 1983, Lumet predicted the short attention span (or perceived short attention span) of audiences would alter the way movies were made. He griped that in several recent films he had seen, no shot lasted for more than seven seconds without a cut being made.
  
• "A Different Kind of Spy: Paul Dehn's Deadly Affair", a featurette in which writer David Kipen discusses the life and career of the esteemed screenwriter. Kipen is loquacious and interesting, providing background of Dehn's fascinating background. He was an instructor at a spy school while in the British military in WWII and among his students were Ian Fleming and John Le Carre. He later engaged in undercover activities himself. After the war, Dehn became a screenwriter and Kipen laments the fact that many of the economically-made, but expertly scripted films he worked on in post-war Britain remain largely unseen by international audiences. Kipen also informs us that Dehn was a gay man living in Britain when homosexuality was still a crime and how his closeted life and long-time lover affair with film composer James Bernard may have influenced his work.
  
• "Lumet's London" is a short featurette that shows "then-and-now" footage and photos of the various locations seen in the film.
• "Take One and Move On" is a short but interesting interview with camera operator Brian West, who recalls the inventive way cinematographer Freddie Young planned some innovative shots.
  
• "The National Film Theatre Lecture with James Mason" is a rare gem from 1967. Mason didn't give an abundance of interviews and wasn't a common presence on chat shows. This marvelous interview before an enthusiastic audience is worth the price of the Blu-ray alone. Mason is, as you might expect, urbane, charismatic and very witty as he relates stories of his life and career including some tidbits about the pleasures and stresses of working with Hitchcock and Kubrick.