By Fred Blosser

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Todd Garbarini

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

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

By Hank Reineke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Todd Garbarini

I hated William Friedkin’s 1985 police thriller, To Live and Die in L.A., when I first saw it. The mixture of Eighties-style pop music by Wang Chung and the disreputable characters were, I felt, meretricious and off-putting. Even the car chase seemed lackluster. I also hated Dario Argento’s Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1972), James Toback’s Fingers (1978) and David Lynch’s Blue Velvet (1986) during my first viewings. Revisiting these titles soon afterwards made me realize that I failed to fully appreciate or understand them. My ignorance of film was evident!

To Live and Die in L.A., which opened nationwide on Friday, November 1, 1985 to lukewarm notices and underwhelming box office despite being championed by a four-star review by Roger Ebert, is a highly stylized, dark, and uncompromising crime thriller that boasts a then-unknown cast with a story and a pace that feels more suited to the 1970s. It also contains what I consider to be the greatest car chase ever filmed and edited for a major motion picture, which took no less than five weeks to plan and shoot.

Having seen Mr. Friedkin’s brilliant Oscar-winning East Coast police thriller The French Connection (1971), this West Coast-based yarn centers on a Secret Service agent, Richard Chance (William Petersen), whose best friend and partner Jim Hart (Michael Greene) has been murdered in cold blood by artist/currency counterfeiter Rick Masters (Willem Dafoe) just days prior to his retirement. This plot device occurred before it became a familiar film trope, and this is easily one of the best films of the 1980s. Chance has one goal: to put Masters away for life with no regard for how he has to do it. Truthfully, he would prefer to kill him. This causes many issues for his new partner John Vukovich (John Pankow) whose familial lineage of law enforcement officers and his “by the book” methodology conflicts with Chance’s no-bullshit headstrong attitude. Vukovich’s unwillingness to go outside the boundaries of acceptability is tested when: Chance surreptitiously removes crucial evidence from a crime scene in order to get to Masters; Chance, without Vukovich’s knowledge, springs a prisoner friend (John Turturro) of Masters to get him to testify; and most notably forces Vukovich to go along with a plan to obtain cash needed to get closer to Masters while nearly dying in what is arguably cinema’s most exciting getaway car chase sequence. What makes the chase work so well is that it’s physical, it’s possible (though highly improbable), and it’s not done in a Fast and the Furious, over-the-top sort of way. Nor is it perfunctory as it comes as a result of an important plot point, nearly besting the director’s own French Connection subway/car chase with a headlong ride straight up the 710 Long Beach Freeway while driving in the wrong direction against traffic.

Chance also beds a willing parolee (Darlanne Fluegel) who gives him information on current convicts in return for money to provide for herself and her son Christopher. Like the inexorable Popeye Doyle in The French Connection who will stop at nothing to put drug dealers and users away, Chance, like his surname, will stop at nothing to capture and punish Masters. The difference between the two films is that the former paints Brooklyn and New York City as gritty and almost despairing cities whereas the latter bathes the frame in a Los Angeles that we have not seen before or since. While also gritty, grimy and dark, this is a Lotus Land that is also highly glossy and enticing, with beautiful people who are about as real as the counterfeit bills that Masters manufactures. The overall theme and central conceit of To Live and Die in L.A. is fraudulence. People use each other for their own personal gains. Masters is an artist but hates what he paints and burns his work in frustration. Since he cannot find joy or satisfaction in his own originality, he resorts to copying others, in this case $20, $50, and $100 bills in a procedure that is painstaking, difficult, and now archaic.

Like The French Connection, To Live and Die in LA is also based on a book of the same name, this one a novel written by former Secret Service Agent Gerald Petievich. What makes the film remarkable is the opening sequence which features a martyr who shouts “Allahu Akbar” just before blowing himself up on the roof of a hotel where then-President Reagan is giving a speech. This scene made little sense to me upon my maiden viewing but is eerily prescient of the religious extremism that has made its way to America’s shores.

The performances are excellent all around. William Petersen, whose film debut was as a bar bouncer in Michael Mann’s Thief (1981), is terrific as Chance and plays him as a daredevil whose cowboy nature seals his fate and makes him a dangerous person to be around. This is established in an early sequence wherein Chance bungee jumps off the Vincent Thomas Bridge in San Pedro, CA. In addition to the martyr sequence, this could also be one of the earliest instances of this now highly popular activity’s depiction in a film. John Pankow is also quite good as Chance’s conflicted partner. The stand-out is Willem Dafoe as Masters, fresh from Walter Hill’s 1984 outing Streets of Fire. His icy expressions and demeanor can change on a moment’s notice without warning. Darlanne Fluegel, who heartbreakingly left us far too soon following an early onset of Alzheimer’s Disease, is mysterious as Chance’s muse. I first saw her in Battle Beyond the Stars (1980). Debra Feuer is striking as Masters’ girlfriend and confidante. The late Dean Stockwell is great as Masters’ lawyer - you can almost see him prepping himself for the role of Ben in David Lynch’s aforementioned and masterful Blue Velvet the following year. Steve James is an actor I always liked ever since I first saw him in the “Night Vigil” episode of T.J. Hooker in 1984. He started in the industry as a stunt man in films as diverse as The Wiz (1978), The Wanderers (1979), The Warriors (1979), Dressed to Kill (1980), and He Knows You’re Alone (1980) prior to onscreen acting. Here he plays Jeff, one of Masters’ clients and his performance, though small, shines. He also appeared in the William Friedkin TV-movie C.A.T. Squad in 1986, which was also written by Mr. Petievich. His premature death in 1993 from what is rumored to be the medical treatment that he received after a cancer diagnosis is a tremendous loss to the entertainment industry.

To Live and Die in L.A. has been released on home video many times in the United States and is now available on 4K UHD Blu-ray courtesy of Kino Lorber. The extras, which are ported over from the 2016 SHOUT! Factory Special Edition Blu-ray and the 2003 MGM/UA Home Video DVD, are all included and are as follows:

Disc One:

- 4K UHD Blu-ray remastered from the original camera negative.

- Audio Commentary by Director William Friedkin from 2003 – this runs the full length of the film and is the only bonus to be included on both the 4K UHD disc and the standard 1080p Blu-ray.

Disc Two:

- Standard 1080p Blu-ray down-converted from a 4K remastering from the original camera negative.

- Audio Commentary by Director William Friedkin from 2003.

- Taking a Chance: Interview with Actor William Petersen (20:42, in high definition, from 2016) – Gary Sinise read for the role of Richard Chance with the casting director, but the role instead went to William Petersen after he read for it at William Friedkin’s New York City apartment. A second reading with actor friend John Pankow solidified their roles.

- Renaissance Woman in L.A. Interview with Actress Debra Feuer (14:56, in high definition, from 2016) – Ms. Feuer reminisces about how wonderful the experience was for her. Despite the sexual angle of the film which made her uncomfortable, the cast and crew made her receptive and accepted on the set. Her role is small but important and I would love to see her in more films.

- Doctor for a Day: Interview with Actor Dwier Brown (08:53, in high definition, from 2016) – Dwier Brown talks about his excitement over reading for the film. He would later go on to appear as Phil Sterling in Mr. Friedkin’s 1989 druid-horror film The Guardian, and humorously recalls how the director forgot that he was in To Live and Die in L.A.

- So in Phase - Scoring To Live and Die in L.A. Interview with Composers Wang Chung (12:44, in high definition, from 2016) – It’s amazing that Mr. Friedkin heard Wang Chung’s 1984 album Points on the Curve, in particular the song “Wait,” and explained that that was the vibe that he wanted from the album for the film score. While there is a soundtrack album available for this film, it’s incomplete, and I hope that one day a full soundtrack album, remastered from the original master tracks, will be issued. Wang Chung recalls some interesting anecdotes in this onscreen interview.

- Wrong Way - The Stunts of To Live and Die in L.A. Interview with Stunt Coordinator Buddy Joe Hooker (35:39, in high definition, from 2016) – The famous stunt man discusses the intricacies and challenges of filming one of the most dangerous car chases ever mounted for a film. The director was all about disorienting the audience, and that notion comes into play here in how the chase was staged and ultimately executed.

- Counterfeit World - The Making of To Live and Die in L.A. Documentary (29:52, in standard definition, from 2003) – This is a fun look behind the scenes with mini interviews from many of the cast and crew involved, with discussions regarding the characterizations as portrayed by the actors and actresses to filming the famed car chase.

- Deleted Scene and Alternate Ending with Introductions (13:07) – this is the ridiculous ending that the director shot to please the studio executives and thankfully was never used. You won’t believe it when you see it.

- Radio Spot (01:04)

- Trailer (2:08)

All in all, a great package of a great movie.

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"Retro-Active: From the Cinema Retro Archives"

By Fred Blosser

Frederick Knott's suspense play "Wait Until Dark" premiered on Broadway on Feb. 2, 1966.  Lee Remick played Susy Hendrix, a young blind woman who becomes the target of a manipulative scheme orchestrated by a sinisterly glib psychopath, Harry Roat Jr. from Scarsdale. Robert Duvall, in his Broadway debut, had the pivotal supporting role of Roat. A movie version opened on Oct. 26, 1967, starring Audrey Hepburn (in an Oscar-nominated performance) as Susy and Alan Arkin as Roat, produced by Mel Ferrer (Hepburn's husband at the time), directed by Terence Young, and scored by Henry Mancini. A predecessor of today's popular, trickily plotted suspense movies like "Gone Gir" (2014) and "The Girl on the Train" (2016), the film was a commercial and critical success, ranking number sixteen in box-office returns for the year. Movies adapted from plays often feel stage-bound, but "Wait Until Dark" avoids those constraints, thanks in no small part to Young's fine pacing, sharp eye for detail, and sure grasp of character.

Bosley Crowther's October 27, 1967, film review in the New York Times noted that the Radio City Music Hall screening of "Wait Until Dark" included a stage show with a ballet troupe, performing dogs, and the Rockettes. Fifty years later, going out to a movie, you're lucky to get a good seat and decently lit projection for the price of admission. Any live entertainment comes courtesy of the patrons behind you who can't put away their smartphones for two hours.

Knott's play was confined to one interior set, Susy's cramped Greenwich Village apartment, which makes it a perennial favorite for little-theater and high-school drama productions on limited budgets. The movie adds a new opening scene in which Sus's husband Sam (Efrem Zimbalist Jr.), a freelance photographer, meets an attractive young woman, Lisa, as they board a flight from Montreal. When they land at JFK, Lisa hands Sam a child's doll and asks him to hold on to it for her temporarily. She says it's a present for the child of a friend, she just learned that the friend and the little girl will be meeting her at the airport, and she doesn't want to spoil the surprise; she'll call and come by for it later. Unknown to the obliging Sam, it's a phony story: Lisa is a drug mule, and narcotics are hidden inside the doll.

Lisa had planned to double-cross her accomplice Roat and split the money from the drug shipment with Mike (Richard Crenna) and Carlino (Jack Weston), her partners in past criminal schemes. Roat murders Lisa and enlists Mike and Carlino to help him find the doll in Susy and Sam's apartment. He lures Sam away with a call promising a big photo assignment. In his absence, Mike poses as an old Army friend of Sam's, and Carlino impersonates a detective investigating Lisa's murder. In a bad guy/good guy ploy, the phony Detective Sgt. Carlino insinuates that he suspects Sam of Lisa's murder. Mike intervenes, offering his support to Susy to gain her trust. To further disorient Susy, Roat poses as two men who appear to lend credence to the con.Harry Roat Sr., an an aggressive old man, barges into the apartment, noisily claiming to be in search of evidence that Lisa, his daughter-in-law, carried on a clandestine affair with Sam. Later, mild-mannered Harry Roat Jr. knocks on the door and apologizes for his father's outburst. It's a nice gimmick for Alan Arkin, who gets to impersonate three characters with different costumes and personalities. For audiences who watched the Broadway production, it might also have provided an effective "Aha" moment when they realized that there was only one Roat, not three. But it's no surprise for the movie audience, since close-up camera angles make it clear immediately that the other two are also Arkin in heavy make-up.

The new Blu-ray release of "Wait Until Dark" from the Warner Archive Collection presents the movie in a 1080p print for high-def TV. It's a definite improvement in richness from previous TV and home-video prints. The tailor-made audience is likely to be those older viewers who saw the film on the big screen in 1967, who may wonder if the movie's "gotcha"climax still holds up. Suffice to say without spoiling the scene for new viewers by going into details, it does. The film's stage origins are obvious in the dialogue-driven plot set-up and in the constrained setting of one cramped apartment. The measured exposition may be a hurdle for younger viewers used to a faster pace and visual shorthand, but the concentration of character interplay in a closed space isn't necessarily a problem, even for Millennials who have been conditioned to expect ADHD editing and splashy FX in movies. It imposes a sense of claustrophobia that subtly forces the audience to share Susy's mounting fear of being hemmed in and trapped.

In "Take a Look in the Dark", an eight-minute special feature ported over to the Blu-ray from a 2003 Warner Home Video DVD release, Alan Arkin notes that the psychotic Roat, with his granny-frame sunglasses and urban-hipster patter, was a break from the usual sneering, buttoned-down movie and TV villains of the time. "By and large, the public had not been exposed to that kind of person", he recalls. "But they began to have people like that live next to them, or see them in the newspapers or on TV." Ironically, if Roat was unsettling to 1967 audiences, he and his flick knife may seem insufficiently scary for younger viewers today, in the endless wake of movies and TV shows about flamboyantly demented murderers since "The Silence of the Lambs" (1990) -- not to mention the perpetrators of real-life mass murders that, numbingly, we seem to see every night on CNN, network, and local news.

In the special feature, Arkin and Ferrer also express fond appreciation of Hepburn, who wanted to star in "Wait Until Dark" when she realized that she was getting too old to continue playing demure ingenues, Ferrer says. Once Susy starts to figure out the con in the last half-hour of the movie and, isolated from help, summons the inner resources to fight back, she begins to resemble today's omnipresent model of screen feminism, the smart, ass-kicking action hero. Two supporting actresses are unfamiliar by name and face: Samantha Jones as Lisa and Julie Harrod as Susy's 14-year-old neighbor Gloria. Jones has a chilling scene in which Lisa's corpse hangs in a makeshift body bag in Susy's closet, and Susy, unaware, almost bumps into it. Both actresses are so good that viewers will wonder why they didn't have more prominent careers. (I don't know either.) One bit of casting may be distracting to viewers in 2017 in a way that it wasn't to audiences in 1967: as Carlino, the fine character actor Jack Weston is almost a dead ringer for New Jersey Gov. and failed 2016 Republican Presidential hopeful Chris Christie. (He's now running again- Ed.)

Besides "Take a Look in the Dark", the Warner Archive Collection Blu-ray includes two trailers also repeated from the 2003 DVD. One, titled the "warning trailer" ominously cautions that "during the last eight minutes of this picture, the theater will be darkened to the legal limit to heighten the terror of the breath-taking climax." As a gimmick for luring curious masochists into the movie theater, it doesn't quite rise to the truly inspired heights of William Castle's "Emergo", "Percepto", or "Punishment Poll", but it's still a charming bit of vintage Hollywood hucksterism.

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FRED BLOSSER IS THE AUTHOR OF "SAVAGE SCROLLS: VOLUME ONE: SCHOLARSHIP FROM THE HYBORIAN AGE". CLICK HERE TO ORDER ON AMAZON

Imprint, the Australian video label, is releasing "The Avengers: The Tara King Collection" as a region-free Blu-ray set on 29 November. Here are the details:

John Steed fights crime and diabolical masterminds in his own inimitable manner with nonchalant efficiency, sophistication, and charm. With the departure of Mrs. Peel (Diana Rigg), Steed (Patrick Macnee) has acquired a new assistant, Tara King (Linda Thorson), who relies less on judo and more on feminine guile to dispatch her assailants. Miss King will use a coo or a kiss rather than a karate chop, not to mention an occasional brick-in-the-handbag technique! Emotional, earthy, cunning, Tara is thoroughly emancipated, while remaining essentially feminine. This is her real distinction and it makes her devastating! 

In this stunning celebration of the Tara King era, The Avengers probe 33 colourful adventures in stunning high-definition, with a bountiful collection of vintage and new Special Features. 

Plus an additional disc brings together early episodes from the first two seasons of the series and audio reconstructions for Series 1 lost episodes. 

A second bonus disc features the worldwide Blu-ray debut of Patrick Macnee’s 1970 post-Avengers crime caper Mister Jerico, sporting a brand NEW 2K scan from the original negative.

11 DISC BLU-RAY SET + 120 page collectable booklet in LIMITED EDITION HARDBOX packaging.

THE AVENGERS SERIES 6 – all 33 episodes on 9 discs

Special Features and Technical Specs: 

• 1080p high-definition presentation from the original 35mm elements 
• Collectable double-sided Hardbox packaging – 1500 copies only
• NEW! 120-page booklet featuring an essay by television writer / historian Andrew Pixley, and Press/Story Information from the original studio files
• Original ‘as broadcast’ mono audio track (LPCM) and “The Avengers in Color” opening slate
• NEW! Audio Commentary on “The Forget-Me-Knot” by filmmakers Samuel Clemens and George Clemens (2023)
• NEW! Audio Commentary on the Terry Nation scripted episode “Invasion of the Earthmen”  by writer/film critic Kim Newman and screenwriter/author Robert Shearman (2023)
• Audio Commentary on “Split!” by writer/producer Brian Clemens and director Roy Ward Waker 
• NEW! Audio Commentary on “LOOK! (stop me if you’ve heard this one) But There Were These Two Fellers…” by filmmakers Samuel Clemens and George Clemens (2023)
• NEW! Never-before-released Video Commentary on “All Done With Mirrors” featuring actress Linda Thorson, director Raymond Austin, composer Howard Blake, producer Brian Clemens recorded on-stage at “THE AVENGERS AT 50” event in 2011
• Audio Commentary on “All Done With Mirrors” by actress Linda Thorson and Paul O’Grady 
• Audio Commentary on “Game” by director Robert Fuest
• Audio Commentary on “Noon Doomsday” by actress Linda Thorson and Paul O’Grady 
• 2nd Audio Commentary on “Noon Doomsday” by stuntwoman Cyd Child
• NEW! 3rd Audio Commentary on “Noon Doomsday” by filmmakers Samuel Clemens and George Clemens (2023)
• Audio Commentary on “Killer” by guest actress Jennifer Croxton
• Audio Commentary on “The Morning After” by director John Hough
• Audio Commentary on “Love All” by writer Jeremy Burnham and guest actress Veronica Strong
• NEW! Audio Commentary on “Fog” by film historians Jonathan Rigby and Kevin Lyons (2023)
• NEW! Audio Commentary on “Thingumajig” by film historians Jonathan Rigby and Kevin Lyons (2023)
• NEW! Audio Commentary on “Bizarre” by television historians Dick Fiddy (of the British Film Institute) and Henry Holland (2023)
• Video Introductions to “The Interrogators”, “Love All”, “Take Me To Your Leader”, “Pandora”, “Thingumajig” and “Requiem” by Linda Thorson 
• Video Introduction to “Whoever Shot Poor George Oblique Stroke XR40?” by director Cyril Frankel
• NEW! Audio Recollection on “Get-A-Way!” by guest actor Peter Bowles 
• “THE AVENGERS AT 50” – Interviews captured at the 50th Anniversary celebration of the series, held at Chichester University (2011) 
  • Helicopter arrival and Audio Commentary by Linda Thorson and Paul O’Grady 
  • NEW! Linda Thorson introduces video message from Patrick Macnee
  • NEW! “The Impact of The Avengers” – panel discussion with Linda Thorson, Paul O’Grady, director Raymond Austin, actor John Carson and author Alwyn Turner
  • NEW! “The Music of The Avengers” – Themes from the series (and The New Avengers) performed by the Chichester University Orchestra 
  • Interview with Linda Thorson by Paul O’Grady 
  • “The Two Sides of Tara King” – with Linda Thorson and stuntwoman Cyd Child
  • Interview with director John Hough
  • Interview with director Robert Fuest
  • Interview with composer Howard Blake
  • Interview with director/stunt co-ordinator Raymond Austin (NEW! Complete unreleased version) 
• “In the Footsteps of Tara King” – interview with Linda Thorson by Oliver Kalkofe (2010)
• “Wish You Were Here” – Locations featurette 
• “Avenging The Avengers” – featurette on the series (1992) plus additional unused interviews
• “Thriller: Lady Killer” – complete episode from the ATV series starring Linda Thorson, written by Brian Clemens (in Standard Definition) 
• “Return of the Saint: The Roman Touch” – complete episode of the ITC action series guest starring Linda Thorson (in Standard Definition) 

Archival Vault Material 

• “Introducing Linda Thorson” – Vintage Promotional Trailer
• “Girl About Town” – Vintage Promotional Short Film about Linda Thorson with optional Audio Commentary by Linda Thorson and Paul O’Grady
• Artists Screen Tests – vault film of various actresses auditioning to be the new “Avengers Girl” (mute with optional Audio Commentary) 
• “Invasion of the Earthmen” – Alternative U.S. End Credits
• Series 6 Textless Closing Credits with theme music
• U.S. ABC Network Commercial Break Bumpers 
• “Mit Schirm, Charme Und Melone” – German Opening Titles / Closing Credits
• “Granada Plus Points” for “The Forget-Me-Knot” featuring Patrick Macnee
• Extensive Photo Galleries from the studio archives 

Bonus Disc 1: The Avengers – The Early Years 

• “Hot Snow Act 1” – the only surviving material from the very first episode of Series 1, with optional Audio Commentary by producer Leonard White (in Standard Definition)
• “Girl on the Trapeze” – the complete 6th episode from Series 1 (in Standard Definition)
• “The Frighteners” – the complete 15th episode from Series 1 (in Standard Definition)
• “Bullseye” – the complete 8th episode from Series 2, with optional Audio Commentary by actress Honor Blackman and Paul O’Grady
• “Warlock” – the complete 16th episode from Series 2, with optional, NEW! previously unreleased Audio Commentary by Honor Blackman and story editor Richard Bates recorded at “THE AVENGERS AT 50” event in 2011
• 14 Audio Reconstructions for missing Series 1 episodes 
• “THE AVENGERS AT 50” – Interview with producers Leonard White and Brian Tessler, actresses Honor Blackman and Julie Stevens (2011)

Bonus Disc 2: Mister Jerico (1970)

1970 crime caper produced by ITC as the pilot to a proposed new Patrick Macnee series, but ultimately aired as a one-off television film, and theatrically exhibited in some territories.

• NEW! 1080p high-definition presentation of a 2023, 2K scan from the original camera negative by Imprint, with grading by award-winning colourist Jonathan Wood 
• NEW! Audio Commentary by television historians Dick Fiddy (of the British Film Institute) and Henry Holland (2023)
• NEW! Restoration Featurette 
• Original Theatrical Trailer (previously unreleased) 
• Textless Titles
• Photo Gallery

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(Prices are in Australian dollars. Use  a currency converter to see what the price is in your local currency.)

By Todd Garbarini

Anyone going into Dutch film director Rene Daalder’s 1976 film Massacre at Central High might very well be expecting an all-out slasher film. While the poster art might give this impression, audiences will be sorely disappointed as it is essentially a variant of Agatha Christie’s 1939 novel Ten Little Indians but with a much different tone. The opening credits and the strains of an inappropriate and perfunctory title song Crossroads (which is better suited to a made-for-television movie of the period) demanded by producer Harold Sobel to the consternation of the director immediately sends the wrong message to the viewer. Much of what has been written about the film over the years demonstrates the consensus that Massacre, the title of which appears to want to capitalize on the Tobe Hooper horror film The Texas Chainsaw Massacre from two years earlier, is a political allegory, and one can certainly analyze the film from that perspective, though it is doubtful that audiences at the time, especially those seeing the film at a drive-in of all places, looked so deeply into a film that on the surface looks to be a story about simple revenge.

Set inside the battleground of Central High School in Southern California, David (Derrel Maury) is the new student and therefore automatically becomes a mark. He is no stud, but certainly not a pushover either. Mark (Andrew Stevens from Brian DePalma’s The Fury from 1977) is an old friend who owes David a favor from his past, one that we are not privy to, and appears to be willing to do whatever it takes to make David feel welcome. The ground rules for making it through Central High are simple: you’re either a somebody or you’re a nobody, to quote American Gangster’s Frank Lucas. Mark’s clique includes Bruce (the late Ray Underwood from Brice Mack’s Jennifer from 1978, another film about high school revenge), Craig (Steve Bond from Joel Bender’s Gas Pump Girls from 1979), and Paul (the late Damon Douglas of John D. Hancock’s Baby Blue Marine, also from 1976). These three bullies, for lack of a better word, essentially rule Central High which is presented as a seemingly insular world of jocks, jerks, and losers. For the first hour and a quarter of the film, adults are only spoken of and never seen onscreen. It is worth noting that Mark walks a tightrope in this film – his allegiance to David makes him hesitant to be included completely with this terrible triumvirate who harass pretty much anyone they want without fear of reprisal.

David is subjected to seeing other students mercilessly harassed by the bullies, especially Mary (the late Cheryl Lynn “Rainbeaux” Smith) and Jane (the late Lani O’Grady) who are practically raped in a despicable sequence. David comes to their rescue and beats up their harassers, only to be partially crushed under his car by the group in an “accident” soon afterwards. Enraged, David single-handedly kills all three bullies in a fantasy right out of today’s high school killer headlines by sabotaging one’s hang-glider, one’s Dodge Tradesman 300’s brakes, and exploiting an empty swimming pool in a sequence almost too ridiculous to believe.

This scenario creates an interesting situation at the school as the once oppressed and harassed “losers” see the existence of a power vacuum and seize it, becoming bullies themselves and embodying everything they hated about their tormentors, Apparently, David is also well-versed in the art of bomb-making! What a coincidence. There is no mention of how he developed these skills (The Anarchist’s Cookbook, perhaps?), but he manages to come up with some fairly ornate methods of blowing away the new bullies, and they all go off without a hitch: (spoiler alerts!) one is blow away while at his locker; another is blown to Kingdom Come a la Sam Rothstein at the start of Martin Scorsese’s Casino (1995) but, unfortunately, no St. Matthew Passion for this guy; and last but not least Mary, Jane and their friend (Robert Carradine) are crushed by a rock in the middle of a threesome while in a tent (it comes out that police believe that they were involved in the killings – how convenient). I suppose this sequence gives new meaning to the term “die hard.”

Despite all this mayhem, the school still moves ahead with a dance(!), and now the adults and police show up. David gets the idea to blow up the school – until Mark and his girlfriend Theresa (Kimberly Beck of television series fame), whom David fancies, tell him they are going to the dance. When he gets wind of this, David retrieves the bomb from the boiler room and, straight out of a James Bond film, makes it to the front lawn to save the day, but not without paying a price for his actions.

There seems to be a need to prop the film up in a bright light and look at it for evidence of it being a highly political film that is making a commentary on society and the members who dwell in it. I am unsure if that was the real motivation behind the film, however if one chooses to view it that way, the film is an interesting social commentary on what creates a bully or an oppressor, and how the oppressed end up taking over the positions of the long-gone bullies. The script is schematic, and the film is not particularly well-acted, but to be fair the director and crew had a 20-day shooting schedule on a modest $400,000 budget, so he certainly had his work cut out for him. The fight scenes suffer from performer restraint and the bullies are so annoying that the audience can only hope for a miserable end for all of them but when they come, the releases are more of a whimper than an all-out rise out of the seats that one would experience at the end of Steven Spielberg’s Jaws (1975) when the shark is finally killed.

Synapse Films released a steelbook edition of this film in November 2020 and now it is available in a Standard Edition from the same company. The following extras are included:

The Projection Booth Podcast Interviews with Cast Members (87:00) – this is an audio playback that needs to be selected on the audio menu to access it and it can be listened to through the entire length of the film. This is a great listen as I was initially disappointed to see the absence of a commentary, but this is the next best thing. It is hosted by Mike White who speaks to Derrel Maury, Andrew Stevens, Robert Carradine, and Rex Sikes over the phone.

Audio Interview with Director Renee Daalder (25:00) – likewise, this is an audio playback that needs to be selected on the audio menu to access it and it can be listened to through the first 25 minutes of the film, after which the film audio resumes. It is an audio interview with the director conducted by writer Michael Gingold and it is a wonderful record of their discussion as Mr. Daalder sadly passed away in 2019.

Hell in the Hallways (42:27) – this is a really nice look back at the making of the film, shot in high definition, with Derrel Maury, Tom Logan, Rex Sikes, Robert Carradine, Andrew Stevens, and Jeffrey Winner, in addition to some behind-the-scenes crew members who discuss how much fun and also how challenging it was to make. Tragically, Cheryl “Rainbeaux” Smith and Lani O’Grady both died way before their time. I recall seeing Lemora, A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural (1973) on October 24, 2002, as part of a “scary movies” retrospective at the Walter Reade Theater in New York, and wishing that I could interview Ms. Smith about her starring role in the film. Unbelievably, she passed away the very next day at age 47. Ms. Smith was 21 when she appeared in Massacre and is heartbreakingly beautiful, completely naked in her death scene that arrives 70 minutes into the film. She was a free spirit and appeared in some of the most interesting films of the 1970s and her presence brought something special to those films. Along with Candace Rialson, another performer from the 1970s who sadly died way before her time, they are two of my favorite actresses from this era.

Original Theatrical Trailer (2:23) – this is in full-blown high definition and looks culled from the new master. The same cannot be said for the TV Spot (00:33), however, which is framed 1.33:1 and looks its age, beat up and contrasty. There is also a great-sounding Radio Spot (00:27) as well as a nice Still Gallery (3:14).

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By Hank Reineke

The working title of the Universal-Jewel silent six-reeler The Trap (1922) was Wolf Breed – for reasons that will soon become apparent. Lon Chaney’s feature role casting was reported during the first week of September 1921, the film reportedly to be based on a scenario by Lucien Hubbard. The film was apparently still in production during late September/early October of 1921. Newspapers were reporting that immediately following Chaney’s completion of Wolf Breed, the actor “will appear in The Octave of Claudius for Goldwyn.” That film would in fact be made, but released as The Blind Bargain (1922), directed by Wallace Worsley - who would later helm Chaney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Along with London after Midnight (1927), The Blind Bargain is inarguably the most sought after of the actor’s lost films.

The Trap, by any measure, is a more modest effort than any of the aforementioned trio of films. The photoplay features Lon Chaney as Gaspard the Good. His character is so named as he is a kind and gentle soul. He’s a simple-living, always smiling, bubbly effervescent personality - a man of good-standing in the small idyllic French Canadian mountain village of Grand Bellaire. But Gaspard’s usual pleasant demeanor will soon sour. Returning to the village from a recent trip, Gaspard discovers that he has not only lost his girlfriend Thalie (Dagmar Godowsky) to a seemingly well-to-do carpetbagger named Benson (Alan Hale), but also to his unregistered claim to his pappy’s hyacinth gemstone mine. Gaspard tries his best to sublimate his personal sorrows, one title card noting while “The morning sun was no more radiant,” the broken-spirited Gaspard managed to hold “no malice” within his heart. For a time, anyway.

But things change in the intervening span of seven – yes, seven – years. The cad Benson has suffered several reversals of fortunes, beginning with a calamitous cave-in dooming his mining operation. We also learn Benson has not been a particularly loving husband to sweet Thalie who we watch as she succumbs to a fatal illness. Her husband coldly dismisses his wife’s deathbed lethargy to “laziness.” Sitting astride Thalie’s bedside is her grieving five-year old son with Benson, “The Boy” (Stanley Goethals). Gaspard too has suffered a shocking reversal – a shift in personality as the last few years events have left him bitter. Though Benson’s recent streak of bad breaks should have brought Gaspard a measure of satisfying yin and yang closure, it’s simply wasn’t enough to erase the sting of his personal anguishes.

So seeking a more punishing revenge on Benson, Gaspard convinces a local tavern tough that the carpetbagger has been saying awful things about him. The enraged brute attempts to assail Benson who unexpectedly defends himself with a pistol shot – a crime for which he is sentenced to the gallows. But this sentence is later commuted to a prison sentence when the brute survives the shooting. In the interim, and as per Thalie’s deathbed wish, Gaspard has taken custody of her son - for whom the bitter ex-lover intends to administer a misplaced vengeance. But in short time the innocent “wee waif” reawakens the good in Gaspard’s heart who becomes a doting model foster parent to the child. But when Gaspard is informed that Benson has been released from prison with plans to collect his biological son, a distraught Gaspard - fearful of losing the boy - sets up a diabolical snare involving a trap door and a starving wolf lying in wait.

It’s a melodrama for sure. In its review of May 20, 1922, Billboard suggested while the storyline of The Trap was overly “trite,” the film itself was visually appealing with “most picturesque locations” and “photography showing some rare and perfect gems of outdoor beauty.” (The film was actually photographed not in the Canadian wilderness but in the tranquil and majestic canyons of Yosemite National Park). Chaney’s “remarkable impersonation” of the French-Canadian Gaspard was noteworthy, even though the review concedes “the vehicle is not sufficiently strong to do justice to the ability of the star.” This contrasts with the view of Variety’s critic who thought director Robert Thornby’s excessive use of full-frame close-ups of Chaney – which allowed a bit too much melodramatic over-emoting on the actor’s part – was nothing if not “tiresome.” Personally, I disagree with this assessment. Though there are no shortage of such close-ups, Chaney’s facial expressions on screen enable the actor to convey emotions of sorrow, joy, malice and anger in a visual manner that no title card could ever convey as successfully.

That said, The Trap was an idiosyncratic picture in some sense, and certainly an archetype of the tortured character roles Chaney would more famously play in the future. Many silent pictures of the day were structured around romantic angles in their scenarios. But following Gaspard’s loss of both mine and sweetheart Thalie (the actress being the daughter of the famed Lithuanian-American classical pianist Leopold Godowsky), the film drops any pretension of romantic conciliation or renewal. The movie instead focuses on Chaney’s dark, methodically-plotted and coldly calculated plan of revenge.

By Lee Pfeiffer

It's easy to look back on the Blaxploitation film craze of the 1970s as a short-lived period that spawned some cinematic guilty pleasures. However, time has been kind to the genre and if retro movie buffs view some of the films that emerged during this era they will undoubtedly find more artistry at work than was originally realized. Case in point: "Truck Turner", a 1974 action flick released at the height of the Blaxploitation phenomenon. I had never seen the film prior to its release on the new Blu-ray special edition from Kino Lorber Studio Classics. It's a violent, brutal film filled with ugly characters and "heroes" who deserve that moniker only because they aren't quite as abhorrent as the cutthroat antagonists they face. Yet, there is something special about "Truck Turner". Amid the carnage and frequent, extended action sequences, there is real talent at work here. Most of it belongs to Jonathan Kaplan, the director who had recently emerged as yet another promising protege of Roger Corman. In fact, Kaplan had just recently completed filming another Blaxploitation film, "The Slams" with Jim Brown, before being drafted into "Truck Turner". The idea of a white, Jewish guy directing a Blaxploitation film may seem weird today but at the time, most of the creative forces behind these movies were white guys, an indication of just how few opportunities existed in Hollywood for black filmmakers in the 1970s. The movies were also largely financed by white studio executives who benefited the most financially. Yet, it cannot be denied that the genre went a long way in opening doors for a lot of talented black actors and musicians, who often provided the scores for the films. Until the release of "Shaft" in 1971 (which was directed by a black filmmaker, Gordon Parks), most of the action roles for black characters seemed to be hanging on the durable shoulders of Sidney Poitier, Jim Brown, Harry Belafonte and the great character actor Woody Strode. Suddenly, there were a great number of opportunities for black actors and actresses to display their talents on screen. The vehicles in which they toiled were often low-budget potboilers, but it did increase their visibility and name recognition. More importantly, black action characters became commonplace henceforth. 

"Truck Turner" has emerged as a genuine cult movie in the decades since its initial release. The movie's oddball appeal begins with the casting of the titular character, who is played by legendary soul musician Isaac Hayes in his screen debut. While Laurence Olivier probably never lost sleep over Hayes's decision to enter the movie business, his casting was a stroke of genius on the part of the executives at American International Pictures, which specialized in exploitation films for the grindhouse and drive-in audiences. Hayes had recently won the Academy Award for his funky "Theme From 'Shaft'" and had an imposing and super-cool physical presence. He also  proved to be a natural in front of the camera. His emotional range was limited but he exuded an arrogance and self-confidence that the role required. Turner is a skip tracer/bounty hunter employed by a bail bond agency in the slum area of Los Angeles. A stunning opening shot finds literally dozens of such agency dotting the urban landscape- an indication of how out of control crime was in the city during this period. Turner and his partner Jerry (Alan Weeks) agree to take on an assignment to track down a local notorious pimp and crime kingpin named 'Gator' Johnson (Paul Harris), who has skipped bail, thus leaving the agency's owner Nate Dinwiddle (Sam Laws) on the hook for the money. Turner and Jerry pursue 'Gator' in one of those requisite high octane car chases that were seemingly mandatory in 70s action movies. This one is quite spectacular and features some dazzling stunt driving. 'Gator' is ultimately killed by Turner and this leads to the main plot, which concerns his lover, Dorinda (Nichelle Nichols). She was 'Gator's  partner in a lucrative prostitution business. The two pimped out beautiful young women who they keep as virtual prisoners on a large estate. Dorinda is the Captain Bligh of madams, routinely abusing her stable of girls and demeaning them at every opportunity. She is enraged by Turner's slaying of 'Gator' and offers a bounty for his murder: half of her stake in the prostitution ring. The offer draws more than a few professional assassins to her doorstep, all of whom promise they can kill Turner. However, the only one who seems to have the ability to do so is Harvard Blue (Yaphet Kotto), a soft-spoken but vicious crime boss who would like nothing more than to make easy money from a major pimping operation. With a small army of assassins, he sets out to make good on his promise to kill Turner. 

Like most action movies of this genre, the plot points are predictable. As with Charles Bronson's character in the "Death Wish" films, virtually every person who befriends Turner comes to great misfortune. This kind of predictable emotional manipulation is par for the course when you're watching 70s crime films and doesn't overshadow the fact that there is a great deal of style evident in "Truck Turner". The dialogue is saucy and witty. For example, Dorinda describes one of her "girls" as "Kentucky Fried Chicken" because "she's finger-lickin' good!" and another as "Turnpike" because "you have to pay to get on and pay to get off." If you think that's politically incorrect, consider that every other line of dialogue has somebody calling somebody else a nigger. Then there's the character of Truck Turner, who - like his fellow  cinematic tough ass crime fighters of the era ranging from Dirty Harry to 'Popeye' Doyle to John Wayne's McQ- seems oblivious to the fact that he is endangering an abundance of innocent people in his obsession to get the bad guys. Turner engages in carjacking and threatens the lives of people who he feels aren't cooperating fast enough. He also has a sensitive side, though, as we see in his scenes with the love of his life, Annie (Annazette Chase). She's recently completed a jail term and only wants to settle down with Turner to live a quiet, normal lifestyle. Good luck. When the contract is put out on Turner, she becomes a potential victim and is terrorized by Harvard Blue and his gang. The film concludes with some terrific action sequences, the best of which has Hayes and Kotto going mano-a-mano inside the corridors of a hospital. They chase and spray bullets at each other amid terrified patients in wheelchairs and on gurneys and in one scene, carry the shoot out into an operating room with doctors in the midst of  working on a patient! The finale, which centers on Kotto's last scene in the movie, is shot with such style that it almost approaches being  (dare I use the term?) poetic. The supporting cast is first rate with Alan Weeks scoring strongly as Robin to Turner's Batman. Annazette Chase is excellent as the ever-patient object of Turner's desire and, of course, Kotto is terrific, as usual, managing to steal scenes in his own unique, low-key way. The most enjoyable performance comes from Nichelle Nichols, who is 180 degrees from her "Star Trek" role. As the ultimate villainess, she seems to be having a blast insulting and threatening everyone in her line of vision. Her final confrontation with Turner makes for a memorable screen moment, to say the least.  

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray is up to the company's usual high standards in all respects. Old Truck never looked better on screen and there are some welcome bonus materials. Director Kaplan provides a witty and highly informative audio commentary, relating how American International was more interested in the soundtrack album they would be able to market than the film itself. (Hayes provides the impressive score for the film, including some "Shaft"-like themes.). He also said that he was originally drawn to the project because he was told the film would star either Lee Marvin, Ernest Borgnine or Robert Mitchum! Nevertheless, he speaks with great affection for Hayes and his colleagues and points out various character actors his used in the film including the ubiquitous Dick Miller, James Millhollin, Scatman Crothers and even Matthew Beard, who played "Stymie" in the Our Gang comedies.  Another welcome bonus is director Joe Dante,obviously an admirer of the film, in discussion at a 2008 screening of "Truck Turner" at the New Beverly Cinema in L.A. He's joined by director Kaplan and stuntman Bob Minor. The reaction of the audience indicates this film enjoys a loyal following. There is also a segment from Dante's popular "Trailers From Hell" web site that features director Ernest Dickerson introducing and narrating the original trailer for the film. The trailer is also included in the Blu-ray, as well as a double feature radio spot ad for "Truck Turner" and Pam Grier as "Foxy Brown". In all, an irresistible release for all retro movie lovers. 

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By Lee Pfeiffer

When this year's Oscar nominations were announced last month, there was a discussion of the choices on the popular A.M. chat show "Morning Joe". Veteran columnist Mike Barnicle seemed to sum up the feelings of the panelists when he griped that the choices for Best Picture had too many quirky films that most movie-goers would not have seen. This is a common complaint but those who make it are flat-out wrong. You see, the Oscar awards are not supposed to be obligated to reflect popular taste. They are not The People's Choice Awards. Rather, they are supposed to reflect the feelings of industry professionals in regard to who among their peers should be honored. However, the awards have largely been defined by the TV broadcast, which has grown to C.B. DeMille proportions over the decades. Thus, the Academy is partly to blame for the perception that populism should play a role in the nominations and who is declared a winner. The Academy also made a blatant attempt to reverse declining ratings some years ago by artificially inflating the number of Best Picture nominees from the traditional five to ten. There was no reason to do this other than to try to goose up audience interest by including films that would appeal to viewers but which would probably not stand much of a chance in terms of winning.

Last night's telecast seemed to revert back to the Academy's main mission: to honor films based on their artistic merits, not popularity. Thus, quirky was "in", as evidenced by the seven awards accorded to "Everything Everywhere All at Once", a film that people find hard to even describe. One friend of mine has seen it nine times while others have made repeated attempts to get through it only to throw in the towel before reaching the conclusion. The film has already grossed over $100 million and the Oscar haul will boost it into the stratosphere.

Here are some random observations about last night's telecast on ABC-TV.:

• Overall, the show was one of the better ceremonies in recent years. No major flubs or time-wasting episodes. Host Jimmy Kimmel was very funny and delivered the bon mots in a low-key manner. He addressed the elephant in the room early in the broadcast, taking a swipe at Will Smith and last year's "Slap heard 'round the world". Kimmel quipped that anyone in the auditorium who provokes violence this year would be awarded the Best Actor Oscar and be allowed to give a 19-minute speech. Smith has been banned from the ceremonies for ten years but there had been consternation that his much-hyped 2022 release, "Emancipation", would make him a front runner for another Best Actor Oscar. What would the Academy do if a nominee was not allowed to attend the ceremony? The crisis was averted when "Emancipation" didn't live up to expectations and vanished from theaters quickly.
  
• There was an abundance of old style high style. Men seem to have forsaken those dreadful "new, improved" tuxedo designs from some years ago and gone back to the traditional look, perhaps influenced by the fact that early films of Cary Grant and Sean Connery still epitomize what classic black tie look can do for any guy. For the women, plunging necklines and cleavage were the order of the day. Most of the gowns looked great with only a few coming close to being over-the-top. Helping in this regard was the fact that Cher was not present, although Academy president Janet Yang showcased a gown that looked like a costume for the next Marvel superhero.
  
• The auditorium featured some wonderful production designs for the various segments orchestra was presented in a retro-chic manner.
  
• Bending to industry outrage after the Academy had relegated some of last year's technical awards to an off-camera ceremony, all of the traditional categories were reinstated. Jimmy Kimmel warned that this would result in an extended running time for the broadcast, but who cares? This is the culmination of many talented people's careers and they should be afforded public recognition. The show did run over 3 1/2 hours but the pace was lively and there was thankfully very little of that awful "spontaneous" banter between presenters that causes viewers to groan every year.
  
• There were some nice tributes to elder statesmen of the industry including the seemingly immortal actor James Hong and fellow immortal John Williams, who was up for his latest Oscar for scoring "The Fabelmans". Kimmel quipped that Williams has been nominated over 50 times and won five Oscars, therefore making his percentage of wins very unimpressive. Williams, looking fit and chipper at 91 years-old, appreciated the joke.
• There were some truly touching acceptance speeches and some poignant pleas for a better world. Brandon Fraser was so moved by his Best Actor award for "The Whale" that he appeared to be on the verge of hyper-ventilating.  In accepting his Best Supporting Actor Award, Ke Huy Quan reflected that in his youth, he had spent a year in a refugee camp and was now representing the America Dream. Equally moving was Michele Yeoh's acceptance speech for Best Actress. It was great to see older actresses honored, reinforced by Jamie Lee Curtis's Best Supporting Actress win. Maybe we're reaching a time when fine actresses aren't relegated to grandmotherly roles by the time they hit 40.
  
• There was a dearth of political references and jokes, which was rather shocking and refreshing, though Kimmel did get off a funny jibe about Tucker Carlson qualifying for Best Editor. He also made a joke at the expense of America's own Baron Munchhausen by taking a swipe at embattled Congressman George Santos. However, it's not likely to ruffle any feathers because Santos has brought about true bi-partisanship: his colleagues in both parties want him out of congress ASAP.
  
• The Best Song nominees were all very well presented and performed and the category represented one of the few upsets of the night with the viral sensation "Naatu Naatu" winning from the Indian film "RRR". The song's accompanying on-stage group dance presentation was sensational.
  
• The year's biggest financial blockbusters, "Top Gun: Maverick" and "Avatar: The Way of Water" were relegated to receiving technical awards. Both Tom Cruise and James Cameron were absent from the ceremony, causing Jimmy Kimmel to joke that the men responsible for so many people returning to movie theaters could not be persuaded to be at this theater.
  
• There were some misfires in terms of content. To buy time while sets were changed on stage, someone thought it would be funny to have Kimmel approach celebrities in the audience and read them questions that were allegedly sent in by viewers. The stars looked bewildered and offended by the intrusion and you could almost see the flop sweat breaking out on Kimmel's forehead before the misguided scenario was saved by the clock. Memo to Oscar: never send the host into the audience. It never ends well for anyone. There was also a ill-fated attempt to capitalize on the latest cult flick "Cocaine Bear" that barely registered on the laugh meter.
  
• Video tribute segments include the usual memorial to prominent people in the industry who we lost in the last year. This year's segment was introduced by a bald, bearded John Travolta who was brought to tears by the inclusion of his dear friend and co-star Olivia Newton-John. As for the presentation, it's always beautifully presented but also controversial because it excludes any number of people who should arguably have been acknowledged. The Academy should just buy the rights to Turner Classic Movies' annual tribute to lost artists, which is far more inclusive, since the Oscars producers can't seem to get this important ritual right. Similarly, the justified video tribute to the 100th anniversary of Warner Brothers was compromised by the fact that classic movies from other studios were included. Why? Because over the years, Warners bought the rights to them- but that doesn't make them WB productions and they should not have been included. Doesn't the studio have enough bragging rights to their own films without trying to take credit for MGM's "North by Northwest"? 
  
• James Bond fans could relish the unique sight of one of the franchise's actresses (Michelle Yeoh) receiving a Best Actress Oscar from a previous Best Actress recipient who also was a Bond leading lady (Halle Berry) while another nominee for Best Actress who was a Bond star, Ana de Armas watched from the audience.
  
• The Best Picture is usually announced by a mega star and this year was no exception, with Harrison Ford doing the honors. If you watched the closing credits, you could see him reunited with Ke Huy Quan, who had appeared with him as a child star in "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom".
  

By Hank Reineke

Though the Bert I. Gordon’s and William Castle’s of 1950s-1960s Hollywood were successful in grinding out a string of their own low-budget suspense films, it’s clear they both aspired for recognition as auteurs of psychological-thrillers in the Hitchcock tradition. Producer/Director Bert I. Gordon would throw his hat into that particular ring with the redoubtable Picture Mommy Dead. The screenplay for Gordon’s picture was written by Robert Sherman, a television writer with no feature film credits. This was to be Gordon’s second film for Joseph Levine’s Embassy Pictures, his first being the outrageous exploitation/sci-fi flick Village of the Giants (1965) (“Teen-agers Zoom to Supersize and Terrorize a Town!”).

Casting for Picture Mommy Dead began as early as November of 1965, the trades reporting Levine had hopes of reuniting Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews (of Otto Preminger’s classic noir Laura (1944) for Color Mommy Dead (the provisional title of the film). Though Tierney appeared to be interested – she had been working before the camera only intermittently in the mid-60s – on January 12, Gordon announced her part was instead given to actress Martha Hyer, since “the role developed more into a Martha Hyer type of beauty than a Gene Tierney type beauty.”

If Dana Andrews was on Levine’s wish list to take on the role of Edward Shelley in the film, the actor was either already working on another project or simply not interested. The part would go to Don Ameche whose recent roles were also occasional and on television. In a classic example of Hollywood nepotism, actress Susan Gordon – Bert’s daughter – would beat out eighty actresses auditioning for the role of the troubled Susan Shelley. “I solved the second femme lead,” the producer explained, “by giving it to my 16-year-old daughter, Susan, but I’ve got to find still another lady before we start shooting at Paramount on January 24.”

That “lady” still to be cast as the filthy-rich Jessica Flagmore Shelley was the sultry screen-legend Hedy Lamarr. On January 18, a mere six days before that character’s first scheduled shoot was to take place at Beverly Hills Doheny Estate, it was announced the notoriously reclusive and eccentric Lamarr had accepted the role. It was reported her acceptance was mostly due to the coaxing of Marvin Paige, a talent agent and occasional on-the-town paramour of the aging glamour queen.

But if the film’s casting appeared settled, events would soon take a dramatic turn. In the interim of winning this “comeback” gig Lamarr, the Garbo-like fifty-one year-old actress, found herself behind bars at the Sybil Brand Institution for Women. The actress had been caught shoplifting eighty-six dollars’ worth of merchandise from a Wilshire Boulevard department store. Following the posting of a $550 release bond, Lamarr told a throng of reporters the shoplifting accusation was the result of a “misunderstanding.”

It was an odd turn of events but on January 28, 1966, the very same day Lamarr was to be arraigned, Gordon promised the actresses’ casting was safe. “This unfortunate happening will make no difference in our plans,” the director/producer told the press. “I’m behind her 100%.” But in the days between her brief incarceration and her first scheduled on-set date, it was obvious things might not work out. Picture Mommy Dead was already ten-days into its shooting schedule, with another three weeks of work to go. Lamarr, who had yet been called before the cameras, was considered integral to those next three-weeks.

Hollywood gossip maven Dorothy Manners reported Gordon’s optimistic suggestion that “the concentration her role demands” would offer Lamarr a welcome distraction from her recent petty theft indiscretions. But Manners chose to stir the pot further, making a passing reference to Lamarr’s prima donna declaration that she’d work only “between the hours of twelve noon and five in the afternoon.” It was Lamarr’s contention that “Any actress who steps before a camera before noon is indecent.”

The resulting press was making everyone invested in the film a little uneasy. Embassy was quick to remind Gordon the budget of Picture Mommy Dead was a cool one million. The film’s backers were, not surprisingly, concerned over Lamarr’s eccentric behavior and public statements. Though some conceded in Hollywood even bad or sordid publicity might prove beneficial in the long run, Gordon was told if he “couldn’t guarantee” Lamarr’s physical and mental commitment to the project, the actress would need to be replaced.

Gordon chose to ignore the warning signs, determined to push forward with his original plan. On Wednesday morning, February 2, a limousine was sent to pick up the embattled actress at her home. The driver was given instructions to deliver Lamarr to the grounds of the Doheny Estate where her first scenes were to be filmed. But there was a new twist. When the driver arrived as scheduled Lamarr was nowhere to be found: a maid explained the actress wasn’t in residence. She told the driver the actress had been admitted to Westwood hospital only hours earlier.

The maid’s explanation was countenanced by both Lamarr’s doctor and attorney. They offered their client was suffering from “nervous exhaustion,” but would be prepared to go before the cameras two day’s hence on Friday the 4^th. This of course was problematic as a crew was already awaiting her arrival on location. The filmmakers decided to check on the Lamarr’s physical and mental well-being themselves. But when they arrived at the hospital they learned there was no record of the actress having ever been admitted. This news was enough for Embassy to pull the plug on Lamarr’s return to the big screen. A spokesman explained to the press, “We have too much involved in production costs to chance any delay.” Embassy then announced that actress Zsa Zsa Gabor had already been offered and accepted the role of Jessica Flagmore Shelley.

Though Lamarr threatened a legal challenge, her lawyers would not ultimately pursue the case. “Gordon made it clear,” an Embassy spokesman offered, “that his decision was in no way predicated upon Miss Lamarr’s recent arrest on shoplifting charges.” Calling a press conference in the backyard of her home on the very day of her losing her role in the film, Lamarr contested all she really needed “was a good night’s sleep,” defiantly vowing to “never act again.” She held true to her promise. The 1958 noir The Female Animal would remain her final appearance in a feature film.

The firing put Gordon in an awkward position. He tried his best to smooth things over before getting back to his work on the film. “I cannot afford to gamble on anyone’s health, but I do have tremendous respect and admiration for Miss Lamarr as an actress as a woman. And whenever she feels she’s able to work I have a story in which I would star her.”

In truth, the role Lamarr was ousted from likely wouldn’t have brought her anything but the briefest return to glory. As the dearly departed Jessica Flagmore Shelley, Zsa Zsa Gabor really doesn’t have all that much to do. She’s seen in a few brief silent sequences in the first half of the film, later enjoying a slightly more expanded role near the film’s climactic end. The crux of Picture Mommy Dead is the mysterious circumstances surrounding mommy’s death. Was it an unfortunate accident? Or was it murder?

The film offers red herrings aplenty. Shelley’s daughter Susan (Susan Gordon) is convinced she’s solely responsible for her mother’s fiery demise. Such thoughts clouding her “fragile mind” would cause her to spend three years convalescing at a convent. Susan’s father Edward (Don Ameche) arrives at the convent to bring his daughter back home to the estate, bringing along his new wife Francine (Martha Hyer), Susan’s scheming former governess. The kindly nun (Signe Hasso) who has been caring for Susan since Jessica’s death warns the couple the young girl is still not in a good place, traumatized by “phantoms of the past” and “vivid, horrid nightmares.”

Bringing Susan home to the Shelley estate was, to put it mildly, probably not the best of father’s decisions. For starters, there’s plenty of Peyton Place-style intrigue at play in and around the palatial grounds: infidelities, back stabbings and duplicitous folks scheming to get their paws on the sizable inheritance due Susan. The screenplay’s riddling mystery is who – or whom – are behind the cruel plan to drive Susan out of her mind so they can steal away the Shelley fortune.

The film as written is an uneasy pairing of those old-fashioned mansion-dagger-inheritance mysteries of the 1930s made fresh with a dollop of psychological mumbo-jumbo. I’m guessing Hitchcock’s Marnie (1964) served as a partial template for Sherman’s scripting. In fact, I kept thinking of Tippi Hedren’s character of Marnie throughout the entirety of Picture Mommy Dead since Martha Hyer’s hairstyle is near-identical. To be fair, the difference ends there. Hedren’s Marnie was simply a troubled gal, Hyer’s Francine is simply trouble.

Though there are a couple of interesting plot twists here and there – and a falconry scene involving Susan running in terror for safety is mildly suspenseful – Picture Mommy Dead is, at best, a workmanlike feature. Neither a great film nor a poor one, it’s a semi-suspenseful time-waster which attempts to hitch a formulaic murder mystery with Jungian psychoanalysis. Not so successfully, in my opinion.

This is no slight on director-producer Bert I. Gordon. We “monster kids” of a certain generation revere the filmmaker for his work on such cult classics as Beginning of the End (giant grasshoppers), The Amazing Colossal Man (giant nuclear blast survivor), The Cyclops (giant mutation), The Spider (giant spider) Food of the Gods (giant rodents) and Empire of the Ants (giant ants) etc. etc. But with Picture Mommy Dead, Gordon found himself deep in the shadow of a cinematic giant of another sort, one more difficult to triumph over: Alfred Hitchcock.

This Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu-ray edition of Picture Mommy Dead is presented in 1920 x 1080p, with a ratio of 1.85:1, dts sound and removable English sub-titles. The film looks brilliant, Kino engineering this new issue from a new 4K restoration. The set rounds off with five theatrical trailers that support other Kino product as well as an audio commentary courtesy of writer-producer-directors Howard S. Berger and Nathaniel Thompson.

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(Welch in a publicity photo for the 1967 spy film "Fathom". (Cinema Retro Archive)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Raquel Welch, the actress who took the international film industry by storm with her appearance in the 1966 remake of the fantasy film "One Million Years B.C.", has passed away after a brief illness. Welch was one of the last of the so-called "Glamour Girls" of this period; actresses who were chosen primarily for their looks and measurements as opposed to their acting abilities. But Welch defied the odds and didn't prove to be a flash-in-the-pan in terms of popularity. She was one of the last of the big studio contract players- in this case 20th-Century-Fox, which meant she could only make films for another studio if Fox approved. She had little say over the films she appeared in during this period and she would later look back on them with disdain. However, retro movie fans would be largely defensive of many of these films, as they cast her opposite popular leading men of the period as Frank Sinatra, Ernest Borgnine, Stephen Boyd, Jim Brown, Burt Reynolds, Robert Wagner, Edward G. Robinson, James Stewart and Dean Martin. Among her best films of this era were "100 Rifles", "Fantastic Voyage", "Bandolero!", "The Biggest Bundle of them All" and "Lady in Cement".  Some were duds, such as the misguided thriller "Flareup" and the disastrous sex comedy "Myra Breckinridge". She became an instant pop culture icon due to the famous photo of her as a cavegirl sporting a fur bikini in "One Million Years B.C." Teenage boys around the world had the resulting poster adorning their bedroom walls. In the early 1970s, she played vengeance-driven female gunslinger in the Western "Hannie Caulder", a victim of Richard Burton's lady killer in "Bluebeard", a roller derby queen in "Kansas City Bomber" and a member of the all-star cast in the murder mystery "The Last of Sheila". By the mid-190's, she played a comedic co-starring role in the big budget version of "The Three Musketeers" and its sequel "The Four Musketeers". Critics finally acknowledged that she could act and should be judged by her talent and not her image as a voluptuous  sex symbol.

(Welch in her first leading role in "Fantastic Voyage" (1966). (Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)

When the prime big screen roles began to vanish, Welch suspected it may have been due to her suing MGM over age discrimination when she was fired as the leading lady in the film "Cannery Row" and replaced by Debra Winger. The studio countered that Welch had acted unprofessionally on the set. She won the case and $10 million in damages but it seemed to make studios reluctant to hire her again. Nevertheless, she successfully reinvented herself with live shows on stage including an acclaimed leading role in the Broadway production of "Victor/Victoria". She also scored with a funny self-deprecating appearance as herself in "Seinfeld" in which she was presented as an obnoxious, hot-tempered diva.

Welch kept a low profile in recent years and was rarely seen in public. She was married four times and is survived by a son and daughter. Despite her sex symbol image, she was always proud that she never gave in to offers to appear nude on screen or in print. She was the one who got away, said a disappointed Hugh Hefner who couldn't use influence or money to lure her to the pages of Playboy.

For more on her life and career, click here.

Gina Lollobrigida, the reluctant Italian superstar, has died in Rome at age 94. Like her arch-rival Sophia Loren, Lollobrigida was born into humble circumstances in Italy and survived the carnage that was wreaked on the country by Mussolini's ill-fated alliance with Nazi German and Japan. She intended to follow a nondescript life but when she entered a beauty contest, her stunning looks and voluptuous figure attracted the attention of Hollywood. She was sent to Hollywood where none other than Howard Hughes signed her to a film contract. Lollobrigida's career took off like a rocket and she was soon steaming up theater screens opposite the top male boxoffice attractions including Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis, Frank Sinatra and Sean Connery. Like Loren, she proved to more than a flash-in-the-pan bombshell because she was a fine actress. She was enamored of Rock Hudson, who she co-starred with in two comedies, but griped that she didn't like Sinatra because of his alleged habits of being late on the set. Ironically, Sean Connery complained that she exhibited diva-like behavior on the set of their film "Woman of Straw". She had a tumultuous love life and retired from feature films in the 1970s when the best roles were being offered to younger actresses. She concentrated on her interests in photography and politics. 

Click here for more details about her remarkable life and career.

By Sandra de Bruin with Dean Brierly (BearManor Media), 218 pages, Hardback, Paperback & Kindle, ISBN 979-8-88771-028-0

By Steve Stiefel

Overview

Hollywood with a Smile is not your typical self-indulgent memoir. You will find no axe grinding, closet skeleton rattling, or “MeToo” posturing in these pages, just captivating accounts by Sandra de Bruin of her successful and fascinating life as an actress in the film capital of the world. During a career that spanned decades, de Bruin enjoyed professional and personal encounters with countless Hollywood icons. But rather than beating her own drum, she generously directs the focus onto these familiar faces of film and television.

These beguiling narratives enlighten and charm in equal measure: a hilarious fender-bender with Paul Newman; a working relationship/friendship with Charlton Heston; an affecting encounter with Elvis Presley; accolades from Ricardo Montalban, James Garner and Dolly Parton; recurring chance meetings with Cliff Robertson; adventures and misadventures on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson; a romantic relationship with legendary film director Robert Wise. Plus, intimate perspectives on de Bruin’s life and dreams, follies and foibles, friendships and loves.

A poetical prologue sets the book’s tone and tempo and clarifies its raison d’être. Additional context is provided through capsule biographies that introduce each chapter and personality, and which underscore an era in which stars really were stars. This one-of-a-kind book reveals a side of Hollywood rarely remarked upon—its good side. Furthermore, the insights that de Bruin offers into the vagaries of human character and behavior aren’t limited to her star-studded subjects, but have a universal resonance beyond the bounds of the fabled Dream Factory.

Photo courtesy of Sandra De Bruin.

Q&A with Sandra de Bruin and Dean Brierly

Q: One of the most unique aspects of the book is reading about famous stars like Paul Newman and Charlton Heston outside of their familiar movie star personas.

A: This was a conscious decision—to present these iconic figures in a down-to-earth and real-world context in which they behave just like anyone else. We're all familiar with the classic stories that have been endlessly repeated and recycled. But in our book, you will encounter a different aspect, a different side, to people like Paul Newman, James Garner, Jason Robards.

Q: What was your reason for starting each celebrity chapter with their mini-biographies?

A: We did that partly with younger generations in mind who might not be familiar with some of the celebrities from Hollywood's Golden Era. And we tried whenever possible to draw parallels to contemporary entertainers: for example, comparing Harry Belafonte's talents and accomplishments to those of Usher. Not all of the subjects in the book received the same renown during their lifetimes, like actor Frederick Combs, designer Ret Turner, or C. Bernard Jackson, the African-American playwright and founder of the Inner City Cultural Center in Los Angeles, yet all three made huge creative and social contributions in their respective domains.

Q: In fact, not all of the people you write about were superstars.

A: We felt it was important to pay tribute to the working actresses and actors and the behind-the-scene folks who, in a real sense, are the backbone of Hollywood. Their stories can be just as important and inspiring as those of their famous contemporaries.

Q: Talk about the tone of the book, which is uplifting and positive rather than self-indulgent and snarky.

A: This was never intended as a "tell-all" book, which as a genre feels overdone. There are countless books devoted to dishing dirt on Hollywood stars, but we felt it important to take a different approach. Everyone who has read the book says they appreciate how positive and uplifting and funny it is in a nonjudgmental way.

Q: Sandra, to a remarkable degree, you don’t blow your own horn, and willingly reveal, as the book's subtitle reads, your own follies and foibles. The focus really seems to be on the subjects you write about rather than yourself. Why did you opt for this approach?

A: We didn’t want this book to be just another memoir about someone the general public has never really heard of. We wanted it to mainly be about the icons of Hollywood and my encounters with them, not the other way around. However, I also wanted to include some of my own follies and foibles so the reader would have a sense of who I am.

Q: Yet, these anecdotes do reveal a great deal about your character and perspective, not only with regard to the famous people you met, but towards your career as well. Were you conscious of this during the writing of the book?

A: Yes, I certainly was. Acting is definitely an art, but it is also a business. When not actually performing, I always conducted myself according to my instilled values and in a friendly business fashion. I never relied on my looks or my sexuality. Talent, intellect, and tenacity made me a professional working actress.

Q: How did these unique encounters influence your career and career decisions?

A: Meeting all these astonishing and highly successful people in a genre known for its harsh climate made me realize that I could succeed by being true to myself. The powers that be apparently respected that and my talent.

Q: What was the most enjoyable aspect of writing this book and the most challenging?

A: Writing this book brought back wonderful memories. It made me giggle at my naiveté and applaud my tenacity. The most challenging parts of it were the bios and pulling it all together, but those issues were solved by my writing partner, Dean Brierly. What a guy!

Q: Sandra, how did you come up with a limerick for the prologue? It’s heartfelt, inspiring, and delightful.

A: Thank you! Dean and I agreed that most prologues are a tad boring and wanted to come up with something different. After a glass of wine, or maybe two, I just sat down at the computer and rolled it out. It came so easily! It still astonishes me.

Q: What do you hope people will take away from your book?

A: That Hollywood is not just Tinseltown, but is also filled with lovely people, some of whom become well-deserved icons.

Testimonials

“Sandra de Bruin’s memories of a cherished era in entertainment history are sure to keep you captivated from one page to the next. The author’s unforgettable encounters with select celebrities are presented with such authority and clarity you feel as if you’re almost reliving the experiences with her.

—J.R. Jordan, film historian and author of Robert Wise: The Motion Pictures

“What a happy romp Sandra has written: a mélange of memorable vignettes about stars she met or admired as a longtime actress in Hollywood. It’s at once warm, revealing and hilarious. I loved it!”

—Nick Lyons, author of Fire in the Straw

“I always felt that actors who did not achieve superstardom have the more interesting stories, and Sandra de Bruin is no exception. She shares her life as a working actress, describing amusing encounters with some of Hollywood’s biggest stars.”

—Tom Lisanti, author of Carol Lynley: Her Film & TV Career in Thrillers, Fantasy & Suspense

About the Authors

• Sandra de Bruin has appeared in over 200 television shows, several major films, many Los Angeles stage productions, numerous commercials, voiceover and looping...and, oh, yes, danced in a production at the Los Angeles Music Center. Her informative and witty articles have appeared in several magazines, and her scripts have been optioned, bought, sold and dropped by major studios and independent producers alike. She created the "Actor's Audition Log" and the "Performer's Workshop Log" to fulfill the organizational needs of her fellow performers from coast to coast and around the world.

• Dean Brierly is a film historian and writer who has contributed to numerous print and online magazines, including Cinema Retro, Filmfax, Outre?, and others. Among his many celebrity interviews are Gordon Parks, David Carradine, Michael Moriarty, Stella Stevens, Fred Williamson, and Joe Dante. Dean has contributed liner notes for Blu-ray and DVD releases, and publishes several film blogs, including Fifties Crime Films and Classic Hollywood Quotes.

Click here to order from Amazon. Available in hardback, softcover and Kindle versions.

By Todd Garbarini

The late director Tony Scott’s Top Gun (1986) was the top dog at the box office in 1986, grossing over $350 million globally and understandably compelling studio Paramount Pictures to want to fast-track a follow-up to it. The idea that roughly thirty-six years would exist between it and the original film, which catapulted Tom Cruise to super stardom and household name status, is something that no one could have predicted, especially the film’s producers Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer. This powerhouse producing partnership also yielded the financially successful Flashdance (1983), Beverly Hills Cop (1984), and Days of Thunder (1990) before Mr. Simpson’s life was tragically cut short by drug addiction in 1996.

The primary question most filmgoers may have going into Top Gun: Maverick is if seeing the original film is essential. The answer is yes, as the emotional arc that Mr. Cruise’s character undergoes in the sequel would be lost on those unfamiliar with its predecessor. For the uninitiated, the original Top Gun revolves around a group of the world’s best fighter pilots – the top of the line, or Top Guns. Maverick (Tom Cruise), Goose (Anthony Edwards), and Iceman (Val Kilmer) are among these pilots, and Charlotte (Kelly McGillis) is an instructor who begins a romantic relationship with Maverick (he has a reputation for taking unnecessary risks while flying, but she is intrigued by him). While on a training mission, a Douglas A-4 Skyhawk light attack aircraft engages Maverick (Goose is seated behind him) and Iceman (in a separate fighter). Iceman attempts to lock his sights on the fighter and fails, so Maverick attempts the maneuver instead. Unfortunately, Maverick’s Grumman F-14 Tomcat flies through the vapor trail left over from Iceman’s fighter (known as “jet wash”) which shuts down both of his engines, sending him hurtling towards Earth. Maverick and Goose eject themselves from the F-14, but Goose slams his head into the top of the jettisoned aircraft canopy and is killed. Maverick is devastated and blames himself, despite the military absolving him of any wrongdoing in a situation over which he had no control.

The sequel, directed by Joseph Kosinski of Tron: Legacy (2010) fame, is set over thirty years later and we find Maverick as a test pilot. The “Darkstar” program is a manned flight in danger of becoming extinct due to the availability of unmanned drones. Maverick pushes the limit of the prototype beyond its intended purpose and inadvertently destroys it, infuriating the head of the program (Ed Harris). Summoned by a now terminally ill Iceman, who is the commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, Maverick is to head up the training of Top Gun graduates for the purpose of sending them on a mission to destroy a secret uranium enrichment facility set deep beneath the bottom of a steep canyon. One of the recruits is Rooster (Miles Teller), the son of Goose from the first film. Maverick promised Rooster’s mother that he would not allow Rooster to become a pilot for fear of meeting a similar fate that befell his father and interfered with Rooster’s career to stop that from happening, something Maverick discloses to Penny (Jennifer Connelly), an old girlfriend he begins dating again. To his chagrin, Rooster wants to be The Best, having no knowledge of Maverick’s interference. This premise is what gives the film the conflict that needs to be overcome along with what is unquestionably the most awe-inspiring and most breathtaking fighter footage ever shot for a major motion picture. Had I seen this film instead of Don Taylor’s The Final Countdown in 1980 at the age of eleven, I would be a pilot today.

If I have any carping about the sequel, it is the brief flashback to the original film; the use of previous footage from a first film is generally anathema to me, however, I understand the rationale behind the film’s use, and it is a minor quibble that does not negatively impact the film. Poltergeist II: The Other Side (1986) did this, with poor results. Top Gun: Maverick also ports over “Danger Zone”, the hit song by Kenny Loggins that was featured in the original and was a massive hit.

Jennifer Connelly was hand-chosen by Mr. Cruise to play his former girlfriend who is mentioned in passing in the first film. She more than holds her own in this film. I first saw Mrs. Connelly when she portrayed Jennifer Corvino in Dario Argento’s supernatural Phenomena (1985), a film role that she landed after Signor Argento spotted her in Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America (1984). She has since become one of America’s foremost actresses.

Top Gun: Maverick is a case wherein the sequel easily bests its predecessor. George Miller’s The Road Warrior (1981) easily blows Mad Max (1979) out of the water, even though the sequel uses footage from Mad Max!

Top Gun: Maverick is now available on 4K UHD Blu-ray and the transfer is reference quality. It comes with the following extras:

Cleared for Take Off (HD – 9:15) – This piece illustrates how much personal investment Mr. Cruise put into this film and how he wanted to take on other film roles to further his craft of acting. The level of dedication that he gave to this film is incredible. Then again, he always does.

Breaking New Ground – Filming Top Gun: Maverick (HD – 7:56) – This piece dives into the technical challenges beset by the film crew as traditional methods of filming proved impractical. The desire to film the performers in the cockpits of the F-18 fighter jets that they are flying could only be accomplished by designing and manufacturing miniature high resolution. This required them all to become fighter jet pilots!

A Love Letter to Aviation (HD – 4:48) – Mr. Cruise wears many hats in life, and this piece illustrates his love of flying.

Forging the Darkstar (HD – 7:31) – This is very cool, the conception and design of the aircraft that is seen in the beginning of the film.

Masterclass with Tom Cruise: Cannes Film Festival (HD – 49:04) – This is my favorite piece as Mr. Cruise talks about his experiences making films with other directors, and when you look at his filmography, it is mind-blowing. Mr. Cruise is humble, a wonderful raconteur, and just as personable as he was when I met him in front of the Ziegfeld Theater at the premiere of Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds in 2005.

Lady Gaga’s “Hold My Hand” Music Video (HD – 3:52)

OneRepublic’s “I Ain’t Worried” Music Video (HD – 2:37)

An amazing movie to be experienced.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

By the late 1960s, Jacqueline Bisset was clearly one of the "It" girls among a bevy of starlets who crossed over from flash-in-the-pan status to becoming a genuine star in their own right. Her breakthrough role opposite Steve McQueen in the 1968 blockbuster "Bullitt" helped catapult the British beauty to the top ranks of actresses who were deemed to have international boxoffice appeal. Among her major Hollywood successes: "The Detective", "Airport" and "The Deep". In between, however, Bisset was open to appearing in off-beat films that were most suited for the art house circuit.  One of the more unusual productions was "Secret World", a 1969 French film that was the antithesis of the commercial successes she was enjoying. The film was directed by Robert Freeman, a famed photographer who is credited with shooting many of the classic album covers for The Beatles. (Some sources credit Paul Feyder as co-director but the film does not give him this status in the main titles or on the poster.)The  film is a moody, slow-moving tale about troubled people in troubled relationships. It's nevertheless oddly compelling and retains the viewer's interest because of the unveiling of key information about the characters and their motives on a drip...drip...drip basis. 

The film opens with scenes of Francois (Jean-Francois Vlerick, billed here as Jean-Francois Maurin), an 11 year-old boy who is rather morose and somber. He is living in a French country manor house that, like the family that inhabits it, has seen better days. Francois is under the care of his Aunt Florence (Giselle Pascal) and Uncle  Phillippe (Pierre Zimmer), a forty-something couple whose marriage is strained. They go through the motions of keeping their relationship civil, but it's clear the passion is long gone. We see Francois finding some degree of enjoyment in solitude when he retreats to his tree house where he peruses a small box of "treasures", which are various household oddities that he has secreted in his domain. Florence and Phillippe receive an unexpected visit from their son Olivier (Marc Porel), a handsome but irresponsible young man who lives off his parent's money. Like the relationship between his parents, Olivier's dealings with them are similarly strained. Francois observes all of this somberly, rarely speaking unless spoken to.

Phillippe announces that they are to have a visitor arriving soon from London: Wendy (Jacqueline Bisset, quite becoming as a blonde), the daughter of an old war buddy who once saved his life. When she shows up, her presence has an immediate impact on everyone in the house. Wendy is polite, out-going, generous and stunningly beautiful. Immediately, Olivier decides to postpone his departure in the hopes of wooing and seducing her. Phillippe seems similarly smitten and Florence is clearly threatened by the arrival of the attractive young woman. As the days pass, Wendy also builds a relationship with Francois, who becomes obsessed with her. He steals a bottle of her perfume so he can have a constant reminder of her presence. She, in turn, plays a combination role of big sister and mother, taking Francois under her wing and spending quality time with him. She later learns that he was been adopted by his aunt and uncle after his parents died in a terrible car crash. Worse, Francois suffered the trauma of being trapped under his mother's body for hours. With Wendy able to reach him in a way that no one else can, Francois's mood begins to lighten. Before long, he is bragging to his small circle of friends that she is his girlfriend, although it is never clear whether his fascination with her is based on his budding sexual instincts or simply because she has fulfilled a nurturing role that has been absent from his life since the death of his mother. As the story progresses, we also learn that Phillippe and Wendy are actually long-time lovers and that her visit from London has been arranged simply so they can spend time together. Before long, Phillippe finds himself in competition with Olivier for her attention. Florence clearly suspects that her husband's interest in Wendy is more than platonic. In a rather cringe-inducing scene, she is mocked by the male members of her household when she decides to have her hair dyed blonde in an obvious attempt to compete with the younger woman. The relationships between the principals continue to deteriorate even as Wendy and Francois become closer. An off-hand remark made by her in jest is taken seriously by the young boy who believes that they are to run away together and live in England, which leads to the inevitable heartbreaking conclusion. 

There are no dramatic fireworks or show-stopping moments built into the script but the film is extremely well acted and at some points, you feel as though you are eavesdropping on a real family. Bisset ignites the screen in this early starring role as a woman who is the unintended catalyst for a lot of anxiety for the males in her life. Director Freeman handles the proceedings with sensitivity and he gets significant assistance from the fine cinematography of Peter Biziou.  The  U.S. marketing campaign for the film was somewhat misleading with its implication that it centered on an illicit sexual relationship between a young woman and an under-age boy. In fact, the sexual element is completely one-sided from standpoint of Francois and there aren't any erotic sequences in the film at all- just an abundance of good actors working with a believable and engrossing script. Recommended.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

By 1966, playwright Neil Simon was already the toast of Broadway and had several hit shows running simultaneously. Simon was eager to expand his talents into screenwriting and had envisioned creating a spoof of some of the more pretentious European art house movies. Before long, a diverse number of impressive talents were involved with the project, now titled "After the Fox". It would be an Italian crime caper and would star Peter Sellers. As Sellers had the most clout, he reached out to esteemed Italian director Vittorio De Sica and convinced him to direct. De Sica, however, insisted that in order to capture the true feel of Italy, an Italian screenwriter- Cesare Zavattini- needed to collaborate on the screenplay with Simon. That was the first obstacle, as neither man could speak the other's language and they had to rely on translators to communicate. This was a true challenge when writing a comedy because jokes and gags that worked in English didn't play out in Italian and vice-versa. Then Sellers insisted that his wife, Britt Ekland, should play the pivotal role of his character's younger sister. By all accounts, the blonde-haired Nordic Ekland was hardly suited for the role, especially since there were so many Italian actresses with name recognition who would have been more appropriate. Things deteriorated once filming began. De Sica and Sellers didn't get along and Sellers wanted the famed director fired.  Sellers was producing the film with his partner John Bryan, who insisted that you don't fire a director of De Sica's stature. Thus, the shared dream of Sellers and Bryan producing future movies never happened, a result of the hard feelings on the set. As if these didn't represent enough challenges, Sellers's well-documented psychological problems, phobias and mood swings often resulted in major domestic rows between him and his future ex-wife Ekland.

The film opens in the desert outside of Cairo, where a shipment of gold bars is hijacked as part of a plan devised by criminal mastermind Okra (Akim Tamiroff). The caper succeeds but he now has to find a way to smuggle the imposing number of bars safely into Europe. For this, he approaches the esteemed Italian thief and con man, Aldo Vanucci (Peter Sellers), who is currently imprisoned. It becomes clear, however, that Vanucci can make good on his promise to leave the prison any time he wants to, as he's treated as a celebrity and enjoys most of the perks of the outside world. True to his word, Vanucci escapes with the help of his two klutzy henchmen and sets about plotting an audacious plan to smuggle the gold into Italy- right under the noses of the police detectives who are searching for him. He adopts the guise of a fictitious Italian director, who he convinces the locals is the nation's most esteemed filmmaker, and sets up a faux movie production titled "The Gold of Cairo", ostensibly a film that will exploit the recent high profile theft. In reality, the phony film production will allow Vanucci and his team to openly smuggle the real gold into Italy because everyone assumes the gold bars are simply props. Vanucci must also contend with looking out for his 16 year-old sister, Gina (Britt Ekland), who is obsessed with movies and film stars to the extent that she adorns her bedroom walls with posters of Marlon Brando, William Holden, Sean Connery and even a "Pink Panther" poster that mentions star Peter Sellers. Vanucci is obsessed with ensuring Gina maintains her virginity and to keep her safe from an endless stream of gigolos. To keep her nearby, he casts her as the female lead in the movie. To give his scheme more credibility, he also convinces aging American heartthrob Tony Powell (Victor Mature) to play the male lead, thus causing a media sensation. He appeals to the local's weakness for celebrity culture by fawning over them and casting the local police chief in the film. When production gets under way, neither Vanucci or his henchmen even know how to handle the cameras.

 "After the Fox" was a critical and commercial disappointment when first released but like so many other cinematic failures, it has built an appreciative following over the decades. It's a film that eluded me all those years until I recently discovered it is streaming on Amazon Prime. Although the madcap pace of the movie gets a bit out of hand during the finale, I found it to be inspired lunacy. Peter Sellers may have been  a nightmare to work with (he would soon be fired from "Casino Royale" in mid-production), but at his best he is a comic genius- and here he is at his best. The script is far better than the language logistics might have indicated and it provides a deft satire of the film industry, as well as a social commentary on celebrity worship and the desire for fame. Even De Sica is in on the joke, appearing as himself directing a ludicrous biblical spectacle with pyramids existing in the shadows of some apartment complexes. There are some marvelous supporting turns by everyone involved and the dubbing of the Italian cast into English is expertly done. Victor Mature, never known for his comedic abilities, was lured out of retirement for this film and he's sensational. Playing a hunky, idiotic screen idol, he manages to even upstage Sellers in the laughs department. Martin Balsam is also very amusing as his exasperated manager. Even the opening credits (remember what opening credits are?) turn about to be amusing with a Pink Panther-like theme designed by the great Maurice Binder, accompanied by the Hollies and Peter Sellers providing the infectious title song created by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. The talent even extended to the film poster design by the legendary Frank Frazetta.

"After the Fox" isn't a comic masterpiece but it is genuinely funny and deserved a far better fate back in 1966. Still, it's never too late to gain appreciation for an underrated gem.

BY TODD GARBARINI

Film Director Paul W.S. Anderson cut his teeth in the industry by directing the 1995 Christopher Lambert film Mortal Kombat, a cinematic adaptation of the video game franchise of the same name. This gave him the clout to tackle the sci-fi horror film Event Horizon, a colorful pastiche of genre influences ranging from Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979) to Gary Nelson’s The Black Hole (1979) to Peter Hyams’ Outland (1981) to Tobe Hooper’s Lifeforce (1985) and to James Cameron’s Aliens (1986).

The term “event horizon”, as defined by Wikipedia, refers to “a boundary beyond which events cannot affect an observer.” Physicist Wolfgang Rindler founded this term in 1956 and this phenomenon is mentioned by Dr. Hans Reinhardt (played by Maximillian Schell) in Walt Disney’s The Black Hole. In Mr. Anderson’s film, Event Horizon is the name of a starship that mysteriously vanished on its way to Proxima Centauri in 2040. Proxima Centauri is roughly 25 trillion miles from Earth and would take 6300-man years to get to it with present day technology, but the film has much better transportation methods in mind. It reappears seven years later with little explanation regarding its current state. A distress signal is picked up by the rescue vessel, Lewis and Clark, and the Event Horizon is now orbiting Neptune. The inhabitants of the Lewis and Clark, who come out of hyper sleep like the crew of the Nostromo in Alien, consist of Laurence Fishburne (of 1979’s Apocalypse Now) as Commanding Officer Miller, Sam Neill (of 1993’s Jurassic Park) as Dr. William Weir, Kathleen Quinlan (of 1997’s Breakdown) as Peters, Joely Richardson as Starck, Richard T. Jones as Cooper, Jack Noseworthy (of 1997’s Breakdown) as Justin, Jason Isaacs (of 2006’s Brotherhood, Showtime’s best series) as D.J., and Sean Pertwee as Smith. This motley crew is on edge, dropping not-so-subtle hints about their reluctance to engage in this mission to see if there are any survivors aboard the starship. Dr. Weir reminds me of Ash, the aloof and sinister science officer in Alien. He designed the Event Horizon and tries to explain to the crew how the ship was built with the capability of generating manmade black holes to connect space and time for the purpose of enabling lightning-fast travel – at least that’s what I got out of his rant.

Even in space, the ultimate enemy is man (anyone remember that tag line?), and there are many pissing contests in space to be had in the testosterone-bathed environment that the crew is forced to work in. Snide remarks and insults abound, much to the consternation of Miller who realizes that the ship itself has a life of its own and causes the crew to hallucinate when it taps into their psyches, exposing unresolved fears and grief from their past that only each individual can see. This is a nice change of pace for the genre. Sending the crew to their demise at the hands of yet another onboard alien would truly have been an unnecessary and unwarranted retread of Sir Ridley Scott’s and James Cameron’s aforementioned masterworks, no matter how good the intentions may have been. Event Horizon may be the ultimate “face your fears” film. The premise results in some truly shocking imagery that, according to director Anderson, appears in the form of one to three quick frames to give the audience a glimpse of what the crew is facing/experiencing. If the imagery does appear to be very fast, it’s also due to the fact that much more had actually been filmed but ultimately cut as it was deemed to be too gruesome.

Interestingly, Event Horizon was both a critical and commercial failure following its release on Friday, August 15, 1997 and if the film seems confusing at times, it should – the original desired 130-minute cut assembled by director Anderson was truncated by 34 minutes by the studio against his wishes. It also didn’t help in that the film was rushed through both principal photography and postproduction and was released just a mere five months after the production wrapped. Through no fault of the director, the 96-minute running time feels too little for a film like this. What makes Alien and Aliens the masterpieces they are is even after many viewings is that they spend time on character development and exposition and never feel rushed.

A similar fate infamously befell Michael Mann’s doomed 1983 film version of F. Paul Wilson’s novel The Keep when he was forced to reduce the original running time of 210 minutes down to 120 minutes, and Paramount reduced it by yet another 23 minutes to a nearly incomprehensible 97 minutes, giving audiences only a hint at what greatness may have lay on the cutting room floor. While fans of Event Horizon would love to see the longer cut (even Paramount reached out to the director following the film’s excellent rental and purchasing history on DVD following its box office failure), this footage is, unfortunately, deemed to be lost.

Event Horizon was previously released on DVD in a movie-only edition in 1998, then again in a special edition with extras in 2006. It made its way to Blu-ray with the same extras in 2008, 2013, 2017, and most notably in 2021 with a special edition from Scream Factory boasting eleven new extras exclusive to that edition. The new 4K Ultra High Definition Paramount Blu-ray easily contains the film’s best-looking transfer to date, along with a Blu-ray and a Digital Code. The ported over extras consist of:

A feature-length audio commentary with director Anderson and the film’s producer Jeremy Bolt, partners who met early in their careers and founded Impact Pictures in 1992. The track was recorded for the 2006 DVD release, and it covers the requisite history of how the film came to be, the difficulties in the execution of the film’s effects, the design of the starship, their working relationship with the actors and actresses, the film’s marketing, to name a few.

The Making of Event Horizon – This is a five-part making-of documentary from 2006 that has the “Play All” feature available as an option. It runs one hour and forty-three minutes. It’s a fascinating look at the origins of the film, with a lot of intercutting among the cast and crew speaking eloquently and complimentary about the production. There are some funny and humorous anecdotes here, which is refreshing to see when you’re dealing with such horrific subject matter. Director Anderson also speaks about the difficulties of rushing to get the film answer printed and locked for test screenings.

The Point of No Return: The Filming of Event Horizon – Just over eight minutes, this is a four-part encapsulation of the revolving tunnel, the 360-degree camerawork, zero gravity, and one of the character’s descents into madness.

Secrets – At ten minutes, this piece consists of three deleted scenes that were cut from the film. Most of it contains the more unsavory elements that were excised from the final cut, such as a truly creepy scene of one of the characters in an Exorcist-inspired “spider walk” scene.

The Unseen Event Horizon – At three minutes, this piece illustrates conceptual art done for the film, most of which was not filmed.

Rounding out the extras are a theatrical trailer and a video trailer.

If you’re a fan of the film, the new transfer is a must-have.

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(For Todd Garbarini's exclusive interview with director Paul W.S. Anderson, click 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.

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. 

Scene stealer: Sheree North in posed cheesecake publicity photo for the film.

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 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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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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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.

BY TODD GARBARINI

The major question that I have about Douglas Heyes’s Kitten with a Whip, which opened in New York on Wednesday, November 4, 1964 on a double bill with Lance Comfort’s Sing and Swing (1963) with David Hemmings at some theaters, is this: where is the titular whip? We have the kitten, as embodied by the overly beautiful Ann-Margret as “bad girl” Jody Dvorak, but there is no whip to be found. Perhaps the “whip” is her personality? There certainly is an argument to be made for that. Jody has just made a break from a juvenile detention center but not before seriously wounding the head of the place who becomes hospitalized. Outwitting the police, she breaks into the semi-upscale home of David Stratton (John Forsyth), a stuffy, by-the-book political candidate hopeful twenty-three years her senior whose wife and daughter are conveniently away in a scenario determined to make him look very creepy. David discovers Jody asleep in his daughter’s bedroom and many questions ensue along with his disdain for her presence. He knows full well that people will talk should they find out he is harboring a fugitive dripping with sex appeal. Desperate to get rid of Jody, he appears to be uneasy about his own unchecked desire for her which she readily picks up on. A series of embarrassing situations that could reveal Jody’s presence in David’s house to his friends and family bring out David’s true nature, especially when Jody’s three friends (a 1960’s “tough girl” and cinema’s two cleanest male “goons”) force their way in to crash his homelife in a chain of events that lead them all to Mexico and a tragic ending.

Ann-Margret had already made a name for herself appearing in Frank Capra’s Pocket Full of Miracles (1961), José Ferrer’s State Fair (1962), and George Sidney’s Bye Bye Birdie (1963) and his Viva Las Vegas (1964) by the time she filmed this black-and-white outing. She sheds her ingenue persona with sex kitten ferocity in a tale (or tail) that was based upon the 1959 novel of the same name. Kitten is a showcase for her considerable talents in a performance that goes from sublime and demur to that of a fighting and snarling hellcat. The dialog dances around the issues of promiscuity and infidelity the way that it had to at that time, coming on the heels of Elia Kazan’s 1958 Baby Doll and Stanley Kubrick’s 1962 Lolita (in the novel Jody and David have sex, however that would have been a big screen no-no in 1964 something that Alfred Hitchcock knew all too well). Kitten comes just a little later than it probably should have, but it allows its star to alternate emotions in a performance that fluctuates from naïve innocence to verbally threatening David should he call the police on her. While we are not talking about anything so overtly sexual as the onscreen coupling of Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider in Bernardo Bertolucci’s infamous Last Tango in Paris (1972), the film no doubt raised some eyebrows at the time.

The movie is now available as a Region-Free Blu-ray from ViaVision Entertainment’s fine Imprint video label, with a brand new and beautiful high definition transfer.. The extras are as follows:

A very informative and entertaining audio commentary by film critics Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, author of the 2021 book The Giallo Canvas: Art, Excess and Horror Cinema, and Josh Nelson. They discuss how Baltimore filmmaker John Waters considers Kitten to be a failed art film, and there is a discussion of how the movie was seen as the low point of Ann-Margret’s career and how she struggled and came back gloriously in Carnal Knowledge (1971), earning her first Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress in 1972 (losing out to Cloris Leachman in The Last Picture Show). Her second nomination was for Best Actress in Tommy (1975) in 1976 (losing out to Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest).

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! is the aptly titled piece narrated by Kat Ellinger that runs about 29 minutes and is a commentary on how teenagers were not a force to be reckoned with until they possessed their own spending power. Juvenile delinquency was looked upon as an epidemic that required a response. Rock ‘n Roll and comic books were considered catalysts for juvenile delinquency, along with trashy movies at the drive-in that were filled with violence, sex and songs. Think the Beach Party films, Rebel Without a Cause (1955) and The Wild One (1957) as the type of fare desired by this new dollar-toting demographic. The Blackboard Jungle (1955) dealt with inner city school bullies and authority, while other films presented stories of redemption and salvation – themes that permeate much of the later cinema of Martin Scorsese. Ms. Ellinger also discusses Roger Corman’s 1957 outing Teenage Doll, a film devoted to girls which was released during an era of exploitation films featuring unknown actresses. Jack Hill’s Switchblade Sisters (1973) is also discussed as a film wherein the women use their sexuality as a weapon of aggression. She also mentions the Sukeban films of Japan, loosely translated to “girl boss”, a sub-genre of cinema wherein women weaponize their sexuality to get what they want. While this piece is very interesting, the music overshadows the narrator at times. I wish that this was addressed prior to pressing of the disc. There is also a look at the paperback books of the era, and Jody was at one time going to be played by Brigitte Bardot. The film falls into the “Bad Girl” subgenre of Juvenile Delinquent stories.

She Reached for Evil: Dissecting Kitten with a Whip is a video essay that runs about 18 minutes on pulp author Wade Miller by author and film historian Andrew Nette (2021).

There is also a photo gallery of black and white stills from the film.

MST3000 rips on the film as a parody in 1994 and is a hoot to listen to.

Click Here to order from Amazon USA and ignore Amazon’s caveat about regional encoding. This disc will play an any Blu-ray player. Non-U.S. readers can order the film directly from Imprint by clicking here.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

We've often written about the shameful conceit of movie studios that used to cast Caucasian actors in leading roles pertaining to ethnic minorities. Sure, it was fine to have actual minority actors playing supporting roles (often for comic effect) but the most important characters were generally always portrayed by white actors or actresses (remember Rex Harrison as The King of Siam???). Sadly, this blatant policy of racial prejudice often extended to films that were sympathetic to the very races they were portraying. Case in point: Geronimo, a 1962 Western that purports to tell the story of the legendary Apache leader who stood virtually alone against the U.S. government, even after most of his tribe was browbeaten into surrendering. The logic at United Artists at the time was that there was no actor more appropriate to play a famous Native American other than blonde-haired, blue-eyed Chuck Connors, who was riding high at the time as the star of the popular TV series The Rifleman. He certainly possessed an imposing physique as well as more-than-adequate acting abilities. However, even with a black Morticia Addams wig, there is no doubt he was completely miscast as Geronimo. This was also the case with fellow cast members Kamala Devi, a gorgeous flash-in-the-pan actress who worked on several projects with Connors before fading into oblivion and Ross Martin (!), the fine actor primarily known for playing Artemus Gordon in the Wild, Wild West TV series. Not only are all these folks woefully wrong for their roles, the characters talk in modern vernacular that makes you think they must be part of the obscure Apache tribe from Bayonne,  New Jersey.

This much must be said about Geronimo: - the intention of the producers was noble. This is probably one of the first major studio releases that dared to portray Native Americans in a truly sympathetic light. The film opens with Geronimo reluctantly surrendering to the U.S. Cavalry in order to spare his few remaining followers more deprivation and starvation. Once at the reservation, he quickly learns he has been deceived and that the tribe is slated to be humiliated wards of the government, stripped of any dignity or civil rights. This bold notion is watered down, however, by a screenplay that ensures that these deceitful practices are the work of a few bad apples. There's no way the American government in Washington D.C. would ever have sanctioned breaking treaties! By punting on presenting actual history, the story loses its impact. Geronimo and some of his men rebel by breaking out of the reservation and going on the war path. If the film goes lightly on the U.S. government, so, too does it present Geronimo in a sanctified light. There isn't a hint of the atrocities he committed against settlers, probably because Chuck Connors' fans would have marched on the studio bosses and burned them in effigy. The film is comic book history, presenting only the barest hint of historical fact and even includes a ridiculous happy ending that absolves the U.S. government and Geronimo of any mistakes in judgment.

It's to Connors' credit that he doesn't come across as ridiculously as he might. The film also presents that wonderful character actor John Anderson in a fine performance as a corrupt Indian agent and another future TV icon, Adam West, has a supporting role as a cavalry officer sympathetic to Geronimo. Director Arnold Laven keeps the action moving with nary a dull patch and it can be said that the movie is  passably entertaining.

"Geronimo" is currently streaming on Amazon Prime

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Like many boys who grew up in the 1960s, I was addicted to Mad magazine. It's sarcastic satires of politicians and pop culture figures were all the rage and the magazine was a showcase for some truly impressive writers and artists. Mad pushed the envelope in some regards but publisher William Gaines still maintained a family-friendly facade. In 1970 (I assure, that is A.D.), I entered high school a few months after another satire magazine, National Lampoon, published its premiere issue. The first issue I saw featured a striking cover by artist Frank Frazetta that spoofed those old jungle movies. It depicted a courageous white guy saving a scantily clad white woman from a hoard of African natives. It was titled "White Man's Wet Dream". I was hooked before I opened the magazine. National Lampoon became a "must-read" for young people of the era. Unlike Mad, there were no holds barred when it came to off-limits subjects. Anyone and anything was fair game for the team of talented writers and artists, many of whom would go on to notable careers. The sexual content was presented in a humorous manner but it broke barriers in terms of what was depicted. Even the official line of National Lampoon souvenirs were hawked by topless young women. The success of the Lampoon was such that, by 1978, the company entered the movie business. The first release, "National Lampoon's Animal House" made John Belushi into a big screen star and elevated John Landis from obscurity into one of the industry's hottest directors. The film was a sensation so it seemed inevitable that more Lampoon films would emerge- and they did, though none of them were related to the original movie. Chevy Chase starred in some of the popular "Vacation" movies that bore the banner of the Lampoon, but most of the other attempts to blend the magazine concepts to the big screen resulted in rather nondescript productions that had little theatrical exposure before going to home video. By 1998, the magazine itself had run out of steam and ceased publication after a glorious and influential run, although the company name is still actively linked to various TV, video and big screen projects.  

One of the more obscure feature films is "National Lampoon's Movie Madness", a 1982 collection of unrelated comedies stories linked by nothing other than the Lampoon name. As the old joke goes, "the movie wasn't released- it escaped!", as indicated on IMDB, which lists the film's theatrical gross as $63,000, which was probably due to tickets sold to just the people involved in making it. The movie marked the debut of director Bob Giraldi, who promptly left feature films to become one of the top music video directors in the industry. One segment of the film was directed by Henry Jaglom..yes, that Henry Jaglom, the acclaimed director of indie films who has developed a loyal international fan base. It's telling that while Jaglom continued making feature films, he has never worked for a major studio again. The mess of a feature film consists of three separate stories. In "Growing Yourself", Peter Riegert is Jason Cooper, a rich New York Yuppie with a wife (Candy Clark) and two small kids. One day, on a whim, he tells his wife that they should leave each other in order for both them to find the space to "grow". Without batting an eye, she promptly leaves. Jason adopts an increasingly bizarre lifestyle that includes turning his apartment into a jungle of sorts. He pursues unsuccessful relationships with women, including a 14 year-old temptress played by young Diane Lane. At one point, he gives away custody of one of his children to a stranger without batting an eye. When his wife returns later, she informs him that she has gone from housewife to running Union Carbide. The entire scenario is weird but occasionally amusing because the characters simply accept mind-boggling developments with barely a shrug - and Peter Riegert plays the smarmy, self-absorbed Jason with just the right touch.

The second tale is "Success Wanters" and features Ann Dusenberry as an aspiring stripper, Dominique, who makes the ill-fated decision to appear at a convention of executives for the butter industry. Within minutes, the horny, tuxedo-clad, cigar smoking middle-aged execs decide to gang rape her--- and use some handy sticks of butter as useful novelties. This was the early 1980s and group sexual abuse could still be shown to comedic effect, although fortunately, we aren't treated to seeing the dirty deed itself. Instead of going after the rapists legally, she decides to bring down the entire butter industry by making Americans more addicted to margarine (I'm not making this up, folks.) This she achieves by becoming the mistress of a margarine magnate (such people must exist) played by Robert Culp. While he's on his death bed, she gets him to sign his empire over to her and she wields her new powers to mortally wound the butter industry, a strategy that sees her seducing the President of the United States (Fred Willard) and the First Lady. Despite the outrageous scenario, the entire segment is more absurd than funny.

The last, and least, of the segments is "Municipalians",which finds young Robby Benson as a rookie L.A. cop partnered with a season veteran played by Richard Widmark. The entire scenario centers on us watching the hopelessly innocent, naive and perpetually smiling Benson become corrupted by the system and the dehumanizing crimes he's forced to deal with, all unfolding as Widmark sits in the squad car ignoring the violence around him as he counts the days until his retirement. Eventually, Benson becomes a raging lunatic himself. The segment had possibilities in terms of satirizing the cliched scenario of the young cop teamed with the grumpy veteran, but the result is awful in a mind-boggling way. Benson is game to try anything under Jaglom's misdirection but we can assume he was happy that virtually no one saw the film. Only Widmark emerges with his dignity intact. Jaglom later blamed the studio for compromising his segment but if they cut any footage, it was probably considered to be a humanitarian gesture.

Code Red has released "National Lampoon's Movie Madness" on Blu-ray to the joy of bad movie fans and the probable disgust of anyone still alive who was involved in it. The Zucker brothers had the right touch for these types of theatre of the absurd premises but directors Giraldi and Jaglom have heavy hands and are working with pretty awful scripts. The only saving grace is the abundance of veteran actors and up-and-comers who make appearances. They include Elisha Cook, Jr, Rhea Perlman,Tito Vandis (a rare performance that clicks), Joe Spinell, Olympia Dukakis, Dick Miller, Christopher Lloyd, Julie Kavner and even porn superstar Harry Reems. The only one who makes an impression is Henny Youngman, whose 30 seconds of rapid-fire old jokes makes you wish they would have simply used his stand-up act to close out the latter part of the film. From a sociological view, however, it's interesting how audience's tastes have changed over the ensuing years. At times it appears the primary reason for the film's existence was to exploit each of the actresses who appear topless at length in the first two segments, despite the fact that it certainly wasn't essential to the script. Giraldi's cameras linger on the undraped actresses who engage in small talk to justify the exploitation. For those viewers of a certain age, there may be pangs of nostalgia for an era in which no one was overly-concerned about such practices, but judged by today's industry standards, it would be largely unthinkable to film segments such as these.

The Code Red video looks reasonably good and the only bonus feature is a trailer. In viewing it, I came to the conclusion that the studio should have released only the trailer and called it a day. The movie poster artwork depicted on the sleeve seems to be an homage (or rip-off) of Jack Davis's iconic campaign for "Its' a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World". Sadly, the comedic analogies end there.

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“A RISE AND A FALL IN TECHNICOLOR”

By Raymond Benson

A Star is Born has been made many times—as four Hollywood feature films, one television movie, and one Bollywood picture. The 1937 original, produced by David O. Selznick, directed by William A. Wellman, is often forgotten amongst the more recent versions, such as the celebrated 2018 remake starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper.

For this reviewer’s money, the 1937 A Star is Born is superior to them all. Granted, it is obviously dated and one must place oneself within the context of the period in which the movie was released. It is also not a musical, as all the others are. The first version also deals exclusively with the motion picture industry. The second one, released in 1954 and starring Judy Garland and James Mason, did as well… but following adaptations went more into the music professions of the characters and incorporated Grammy Awards rather than Oscars. If you want A Star is Born without musical numbers, and there is ample support that the piece works more realistically without them, then the 1937 version is for you.

The Oscar winning story, by William A. Wellman and Robert Carson, was the basis of all the remakes, but here it was the origin, turned into a screenplay by Carson, Dorothy Parker, and Alan Campbell. The tale is by now familiar ground—a young woman becomes a star overnight while simultaneously her husband experiences ruin. A rise and a fall, all in lovely Technicolor!

Esther Blodgett (Janet Gaynor) is an innocent but bright-eyed farmgirl who is intent on making her way to Hollywood to become an actress. Against her father and aunt’s wishes, but encouraged by her grandmother, Esther leaves the nest and goes to Tinsel Town. She quickly learns that things are not so easy. With the help of a neighbor, Danny (Andy Devine), who happens to be an assistant director, she is placed in positions where she can “meet” people. Sure enough, she encounters a big star, Norman Maine (Fredric March). Unfortunately, Norman’s glory days seem to be behind him as the bottle has dictated a gradual descent in popularity. Nevertheless, Norman is struck by Esther and finagles a screen test for her with his producer, Oliver Niles (Adolphe Menjou). Oliver immediately sees Esther’s potential, gives her the more marketable name of “Vicki Lester,” and she is off and running. Promising to quit drinking, Norman asks Esther to marry him, and she accepts. But as Esther/Vicki becomes more successful, Norman falls off the wagon and their relationship goes off the rails.

There is one scene that exists in all the versions of A Star is Born, and that is when the husband embarrasses his wife during her moment of triumph at an awards ceremony—here the event is the Oscars, as it is in the 1954 edition. The moment is powerful and excruciating, and it is one of the reasons both Gaynor and March were nominated for Best Actor and Actress for the film.

Producer Selznick was known for overseeing lavish, gorgeous productions, and A Star is Born fits the bill. Beautifully photographed in that distinctive, vivid 1930s Technicolor by W. Howard Greene (who received an Honorary Oscar for his achievement), the picture displays the glitz and glamour of that bygone, mythical Hollywood era. Director Wellman was nominated for his efforts, and the movie was up for Best Picture (the category was called Best Production then).

Gaynor is especially good, and March is always brilliant. The supporting cast—Menjou, Devine, May Robson, Lionel Stander, and Edgar Kennedy—is stellar.

The picture, while assuredly a drama that takes a hard look at the alcoholism destroying Maine, is also striking for the amount of humor it contains. There are many Hollywood in-jokes, such as when Gaynor impersonates several leading actresses of the day when she is waitressing at a star-studded party. Stander, Devine, and Kennedy, known for their comedic turns, also provide much of the levity.

The Warner Archive Blu-ray is a new, meticulous 4K restoration from the original nitrate Technicolor camera negative, and it looks absolutely fantastic. In keeping with Warner disks that employ “A Night at the Movies” supplements, this one contains a treasure trove of extras. The 1938 cartoon, “A Star is Hatched,” is one of those Looney Tunes that features Hollywood star caricatures, and it’s hilarious. A 1937 comic short featuring Joe Palooka and Shemp Howard, “Taking the Count,” is amusing, and two other vintage shorts—“Mal Hallett and His Orchestra” and “Alibi Mark”—are also entertaining and indicative of the type of fare one would see at the theater in those days. The disk also incudes two different Lux Radio Theater broadcasts of the story—one from 1937 featuring Janet Gaynor and Robert Montgomery, and one from 1952 starring Judy Garland and Walter Pidgeon. The theatrical trailer rounds out the package.

This new region-free Blu-ray edition from Warner Archive is a must for fans of any version of A Star is Born. The 1937 original, though, is and will always be grand entertainment. Highly recommended.

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Monica Vitti, one of Italy's most honored film stars, passed away on Tuesday at the age of 90. Known for her collaborations and love affair with director Michelangelo Antonioni, Vitti became one of the "it" actresses of the 1960s and her image graced the covers of countless magazines. In the 1960s, Vitti was perfectly poised to be part of the mod generation and was widely photographed in the latest fashions. She was also enlisted in the spy movie craze of the period, starring in the title role in "Modesty Blaise" and in Mario Bava's "Danger: Diabolik".  The above video, created in 2021, provides interesting insights about her life and career. For more, click here.

By Giacomo Selloni

The Real Charlie Chaplin opens in a manner most apropos for the last silent film star to embrace the new sound medium - with a title card. "Enjoy any Charlie Chaplin you have the good luck to encounter, but don't try to link them up to anything you can grasp. There are too many of them." - Max Eastman, writer and friend of Charlie Chaplin.

Before there was Beatlemania in 1964, there was the "Chaplin Craze," "Chaplin Fever," "Charlie-Mania," and my favorite: "Chaplin-oia." "Chaplin-itis has swept across America" reads one paper's headline. It is December, 1916 and in railroad stations across the United States, and at the same hour, people wait for his arrival.

Look-alike contests sprung up around the world. Chaplin himself allegedly entered one and finished twentieth! The character that propelled Chaplin to fame had many names; "The little man," "The little fellow," and of course, "The Tramp." Often imitated, and lawsuits often followed, no one quite had the same appeal, the same je ne sais quoi. Perhaps it was the way he looked directly into the camera at us.

Perhaps it was that crooked smile, the naughtiness behind those eyes, pathos, or just the Everyperson's need to root for the underdog. Charles Spencer Chaplin understood that role. He lived it. "In a society sharply defined by class, the Tramp not only stands up to the man. He gives him a kick up the arse for good measure."

Before I go on I must mention the narrator. It is Pearl Mackie. Possibly known to you Doctor Who fans as Bill Potts, the final companion of the 12th Doctor, played by Peter Capaldi. She is amazingly deft at nuance and possesses the right amount of gravitas to make things compelling while moving the tale along.

Chaplin was born on in 1889. An auspicious year that began with a total eclipse of the sun. Charlie was born on April 16. Four days later in Austria-Hungary his doppelganger, Adolf Hitler is born. Coincidence? Fate? The Eiffel Tower was opened to the public. Jack the Ripper is still at large while London installs electric street lamps. In Kyoto, Japan, a playing card manufacturing company, Nintendo (yes, THAT Nintendo. Do your own research here...) is formed. It is the early, beginning days of both film and sound recording.

One can say Chaplin and film grew up together. Both he and film grew to be among the most famous icons on Earth. "The Tramp will make Chaplin more famous than any King, Queen or Emperor. More famous than any philosopher, artist or religious figure. Famous in a way no one has been before."

His parents were in the "Variety business." His father ran away with a chorus girl, abandoning his wife,

Charlie and his older half-brother Sydney. They lived in a four-wall flat on Fitzalan Street until his mom was sent to a mental home and he was sent to the Lambeth Workhouse.

It's here where we meet Effie Wisdom. She grew up with Chaplin and her interview, with historian Kevin Brownlow, when she was 92 in 1983 informs us about the retched conditions Chaplin grew up in. The scenes are recreated from the actual recordings.

At fifteen, he joined Fred Karno's Mumming Birds troupe where he learned the essentials of physical comedy - how to take a trip, a punch, to fall down stairs. In 1910, with the Troupe, he came to America. In between 3-a-day shows he teaches himself the cello, Greek and yoga. When Mack Sennett loses his lead Keystone Cop, Ford Sterling, he hires the Brit Chaplin away from Karno at a salary of $150 per week, three times his current salary. He decides he'll try it for a year.

Eventually, we learn of Chaplin's dark sides. The insecurities, the abuses, the predatory behavior towards underage girls (see: 'Chaplin' the 1991 film directed by Richard Attenborough starring Robert Downy Jr. for more on that), the lawsuits, the abortions, Communist sympathies, expulsion from America, life in Switzerland with Oona O'Neill and his triumphant return at the 1972 Oscar ceremony.

Much of the information we receive comes from a 1966 interview he did with Life Magazine, one of the few times he spoke to a reporter with a tape recorder running. Again, some of it recreated but with photos taken from the interview itself.

Not all his ex-wives stories are here. His second wife, Lita Grey Chaplin's story is touched upon. I won't get into it here. It's not pretty. There are interviews with some of his and Oona's children done after Chaplin passed. No mention of his being a Romany Gypsy is here, which I found strangely conspicuous.

Judge for yourself what Chaplin's life was. There's no denying the man's genius and abilities; he was a one-man wrecking crew who oversaw EVERY aspect, every shot of his films. For example, it took him 534 days of shooting, with multiple actresses (only to rehire the original), to get one scene right for City Lights, his silent opus in the beginning days of sound. "Talking is an artificial thing," he said, "whereas movement is as near to nature as a bird flying. The voice is very beautiful but it is not as great as the silence of somebody just looking." 50,000 people showed up for the premiere of the film.

Chaplin was once the most famous man in the world. The highest paid actor. Eventually, his public fall from grace and closet skeletons defined how he was perceived. The film is full of archival footage including home movies of family life in Switzerland. With features such as these and never-before- heard recordings a Chaplin is revealed that the world has never seen before.

BY TODD GARBARINI

We all know the old saying that hindsight is 20/20. When it comes to slasher films from the 1980s, movies that were released during that time were very often dismissed by critics – and rightfully so. Audiences, on the other hand, had a great time experiencing arguably the cinematic equivalent of riding a roller coaster. Following the success of John Carpenter’s Halloween in 1978 and its most closely related “holiday” second cousin, Sean Cunningham’s Friday the 13th in 1980, movie studios were falling over themselves to come up with the next big horror hit in much the same way that the spate of killer fish and outer space movies followed the success of Jaws in 1975 and Star Wars in 1977, respectively. Unfortunately, for us, often this resulted in some terribly silly and cookie cutter films that were nothing more than derivations of superior slasher films from years past.

The House on Sorority Row (1982) is a film that didn’t exactly set the box-office on fire during its initial release. To be fair, it didn’t receive a huge theatrical distribution deal. It was shot on a small budget, starring a cast of relative unknowns at the time. In keeping in slasher film tradition, the film begins, as so many other films of the day do, with the typical opening sequence that takes many years prior to the film’s start wherein something quite awful happens before bringing the viewers to present day. In this case, House begins with a soft filter which is generally used to imply a flashback. The trick is remembering this prologue as it will answer the question as to what is happening for the rest of the film. This is a familiar trope that can be seen in everything from Paul Lynch’s Prom Night (1980) to his own Humongous (1982).

Written and directed by Mark Rosen in the summer of 1980 and released in New York in February 1983, House concerns seven sisters of a sorority – Katey (Kathryn McNeil), Vicki (Eileen Davidson), Liz (Janis Zido), Jeanie (Robin Meloy), Diane (Harley Jane Kozak), Morgan (Jodi Draigie), and Stevie (Ellen Dorsher) – whose graduation celebration is interrupted by their house mother, Mrs. Slater (Lois Kelso Hunt), who throws cold water on their plans for a party. In retaliation, the leader of the pack, Vicki, devises a prank to play on Mrs. Slater which involves submerging her cane in the outdoor pool (which is full of muck) and forcing her to retrieve it at gunpoint! The gun is supposed to be loaded with blanks but accidentally fires and hits Mrs. Slater, who collapses. Shocked, there is a mad dash by the sisters to hide her body in the pool and go through with the party and pretend as though everything is status quo.

The bulk of the film revolves around the party and the sisters trying to keep up a good-natured charade, though some of them have more difficulty than the others. None of these characters are especially interesting and the actresses portraying them do their best to remain interesting enough to parlay their actions into suspense, however in the hands of another director, the film could just as easily resemble a comedy, something along the lines of Weekend at Bernie’s (1989). The ending may have been a bit of a shocker at the time, however nearly forty years hence it’s old hat and has been echoed in many better slashers, in particular Michele Soavi’s 1987 directorial debut film Deliria (StageFright).

House made its home video debut on VHS, Betamax, CED and laserdisc in 1983 (wow – did I really just type that??) and then surfaced on DVD in 2000, 2004, 2010 and 2012(!) in varying special editions. Scorpion Releasing brought the film to Blu-ray in 2014 and 2018. Now, MVD has reissued the film on Blu-ray as part of its MVD Rewind Collection in a slipcase edition wherein the cardboard cover is made to resemble a worn VHS rental that needs to be returned to a video store. If you don’t own the 2018 Scorpion Releasing version, this new MVD release contains all the extras from that Blu-ray and is the most comprehensive release to date.

The first interview is with actress Harley Jane Kozak (Diane) who went to New York University and was waiting tables while trying out for the role of Diane. She says that the cast saw the film at the only theater in New York City that was showing it. She also recalls how Eileen Davidson (Vicki) wore her gym shorts in the film. Strangely, the house mother was dubbed! Harley also describes the party scene as “slogging through cement” as they had to dance with no music playing while speaking their lines. This interview lasts a whopping 42 minutes.

The second interview is called “Kats Eyes” with Eileen Davidson, who went on to a successful career in soap operas, and runs just over seven minutes. The third interview is with Kathryn McNeil (Katey) and runs about 14 minutes. She discusses how she got the audition through Backstage magazine (the old-fashioned way!). She had no agent; the cast helped the crew set up the scenes; she was paid $50.00 per day; she was scared by The Wizard of Oz when she was a child and is amazed how young kids now tend to see the more violent films (I was always freaked out by the boat ride sequence in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory!).

The fourth interview is with writer and director Mark Rosman, running about 21 minutes. He had the great opportunity to work on Home Movies by Brian De Palma as a first assistant director on the campus of Sarah Lawrence!

The fifth interview is with composer Richard Band and is the most in-depth, running 45 minutes. The score was recorded in London; he grew up in Rome, which I never would have assumed; he talks about many other aspects of his career and his website.

The sixth interview is with composer Igo Kantor and runs 10 minutes.

The additional extras consist of:

Original pre-credit sequence – this runs just over two minutes and is bathed in a blue hue.

Alternate ending storyboards and runs just over seven minutes.

Alternate monoaural audio version with re-timed pre-credit sequence

There is a feature-length audio commentary with the director, and a secondary feature-length audio commentary with the director and Eileen Davidson and Kathryn McNeil.

There are trailers for this film, Mortuary, Dahmer, Mikey and Mind Games.

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BY HANK REINEKE

When Kino Lorber announced in April 2021 that a Blu-ray of Universal’s The Spider Woman Strikes Back (1946) was scheduled for issue in autumn I was, to put it mildly, over-joyed. It’s not that The Spider Woman Strikes Back is a great film – it most certainly is not – but it’s long been a missing entry on home video, a film of great interest to collectors of Golden Age horror. The studio has chosen, time and again, to re-master and re-offer the classic and iconic “Universal Monsters” in nearly every conceivable home video format and creative packaging. Too often these releases would be at the expense of the studios less famous genre titles as the still unissued Ghost Catchers (1944), and The Cat Creeps (1946).

In the course of this disc’s ten-minute featurette, Mistress of Menace and Murder: The Making of The Spider Woman Strikes Back, author C. Courtney Joyner notes the film was essentially the “last gasp” of Universal’s low-budget B-unit. Or as one commentator puts it, an opportunity to “burn out the contracts” of actors still on the lot. The studio’s A-list franchise ghouls of the 1930s – Dracula, Frankenstein, the Mummy – had since been reduced to appearances in B programmers during the years 1940-1945.

Seeking to freshen things up, the studio engaged in a “desperate attempt… to create another horror franchise.” Their first attempt came with their Inner Sanctum series, each supernatural mystery featuring Lon Chaney Jr. in a starring role. The studio also cynically brought aboard non-actor Rondo Hatton, a real life victim of acromegaly, as a hulking brute in such productions as The Pearl of Death, The Jungle Captive, House of Horrors and The Brute Man. Uni-contracted actress Gale Sondergaard had made a splash as the icy and sinister nemesis of Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes in the studio’s The Spider Woman (1944) and many thought a return of the villainess was worth considering.

In March of 1945, Hollywood newspapers were reporting that Universal had indeed contracted Sondergaard to appear in a proposed series of Spider Woman films. The Los Angeles Times predicted the “Spider Woman is expected to become as much of a fixture as those other horror protagonists, Dracula, the Monster of Frankenstein, and the newly created Creeper.” The Los Angeles Daily News noted one difference: Sondergaard’s Spider Woman “will not resort to grotesque makeup, but will accomplish her diabolical deeds as a charming sophisticate.”

Technically speaking the Spider Woman that Strikes Back is not the same Spider Woman who tried to kill off Sherlock Holmes a year earlier. Sondergaard is no longer playing the role of villainess Adrea Spedding. She’s now Zenobia Dollard, a blind woman of wealth who lives alone in a creepy mansion house with her frightening mute servant Mario (Rondo Hatton). Dollard, we soon learn, appears to have a lot of trouble keeping her string of nursemaids in employ. They all tend to disappear a short time following their hiring.

The latest nursemaid sent to tend to Dollard’s needs is the lovely and charming Jean Kingsley (Brenda Joyce). Kingsley begins to suspect that the strange goings-on at the manor house might not only have something to do with strange goings-on in town but with the mysterious onset of her own illness. This being a Universal horror picture, it isn’t long before Kingsley stumbles upon a secret brick-wall basement laboratory outfitted with a steamy greenhouse. It’s here that Dollard extracts poisonous venom from a vampire-like plant brought “from the jungles of Central America.” One has to assume that Roger Corman’s far more famous and spoofy Little Shop of Horrors was at least, in part, suggested by the scenario of The Spider Woman Strikes Back.

Though early reports suggested Ford Beebe (Night Monster (1942) and The Invisible Man’s Revenge (1943) would serve as associate producer and director of The Spider Woman Strikes Back, his name was soon scrubbed. Arthur Lubin was signed to helm the feature, directing from a script and original story by Eric Taylor (The Phantom of the Opera (1943) and Son of Dracula (1943). Lubin had been knocking about the film industry since the early 30s, having recently scored with a number of successful Abbott and Costello comedies and the recent Claude Rain’s version of the Phantom of the Opera. He had also, not coincidentally, just finished working with Sondergaard on Universal’s Night in Paradise.

Though all the makings of a good chiller are present here, there’s simply something off about The Spider Woman Strikes Back. The film seems longer than its fifty-nine minute running time (never a good sign). The actors and actresses are blameless, doing what they can with the material in this mostly thrill-less thriller. Sondergaard is at her devilish best working and plotting amongst her poisonous botanicals, but there’s evidence that several key sequences that would have enhanced the storyline were clipped from the final print.

The trade ads for the film would ballyhoo the Spider Woman as the “Mistress of Menace” and “Queen of a 1000 Crawling Killers.” One theater owner in Louisiana practically dared patrons to attend: “We cannot accept responsibility for teeth broken from chattering, curls lost when hair stands on end, chilled spines, jitters, nightmares or any other conditions brought about” from seeing The Spider Woman Strikes Back. Sondergaard would later dismiss the film as a lesser effort, appalled that Universal had exploited Rondo Hatton’s tragic disfigurement as a box office draw. When she first encountered Hatton on set, she thought his elongated skull and swollen facial features were the machinations of Jack Pierce’s makeup department.

It’s a tragedy that Sondergaard wouldn’t find much work in Hollywood as the 1940s drew to a close. Her absence from movie screens was not due to performances, but politics. The actress found herself named as a Communist sympathizer in the pages of the career-wrecking Red Channels. Though Sondergaard was a politically active liberal, her biggest “crime” was one of association. Her husband was director Herbert J. Biberman, a progressive writer-director-producer who later was imprisoned as one of the notorious “Hollywood Ten.”

In March of 1951, Sondergaard too found herself in Washington D.C., summoned to appear before the House Un-American Activities Committee. The actress invoked the Fifth Amendment, refusing to cooperate or disclose or disparage the names of friends and colleagues. She defiantly interrupted one line of Congressional questioning by asking, “May I say something about [this committee’s] branding as subversive every progressive or liberal organization? I find that shocking.”

Sondergaard would pay a price for her unwillingness to cooperate with the inquisitors. She was effectively put her out of work in Hollywood for two decades, with even the Screen Actors Guild cowering and refusing to lend support. In 1956 she returned to Washington, telling the committee that the absence of acting offers post 1949 “has not been accidental. I think rather that it might be construed as blacklisting.” The actress would disappear from film work for a twenty-years following her appearance in the MGM drama East Side, West Side (1949).

She tried to salvage her career with roles in regional theater, but here too Sondergaard found obstacles. No sooner than her appearance in a “Plays-in-the-Park” production would be announced, that a campaign to cancel her participation would follow. Though she would return to work in 1969, mostly on television dramas, Sondergaard, now age seventy, found roles and opportunities scarce. Sondergaard would pass away in 1985, age 86. The Los Angeles Times would note in her obituary Sondergaard was the first actress to be awarded an Academy Award for a supporting role. The paper would also describe the actress, ironically, as “Hollywood’s reigning female villain” of the 1940s.

This Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu ray edition of The Spider Woman Strikes back is presented here in a 1920x1080p with an aspect ratio of 1.37:1, dts sound, and removable English subtitles. The set also includes the aforementioned featurette Mistress of Menace and Murder: the Making of The Spider Woman Strike Back which features comments and back stories from the like of actor-archivist Bob Burns, cult filmmaker Fred Olen Ray, special effects wiz Rick Baker and writer-documentarian Ted Newsom. The set also features the audio commentaries of film historians Tom Weaver and David Schecter. This release rounds out nicely with the film’s original theatrical trailer as well as a sampling of titles from Kino’s catalog of 1940s horror and mysteries: The Mad Doctor, The Spiral Staircase, Night Has a Thousand Eyes, The Lodger and The Undying Monster.

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"LIFE'S A BEACH"

BY LEE PFEIFFER

When it comes to defining cinematic guilty pleasures, one need not look any further than the lame-brained beach movies that were marketed to teenagers in the mid-1960s. The formula started in 1963 with "Beach Party", teaming Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon for the first time as loved-starved teens who are addicted to fun and sun in the surf. The film was such a hit that it spawned numerous sequels, delighting producers Samuel Z. Arkoff and James H. Nicholson and American International, which was mining gold by making big profits from low-budget productions. The beach series didn't vary much in terms of content and many of the most popular actors were utilized in each successive film. There were also simlarly-themed films starring Avalon in different geographical settings ("Pajama Party", "Ski Party"). But if the beach series burned brightly, its flame was short-lived. By 1965, the young audiences that initially craved this fare were moving on to more sophisticated movies. The  Beatles had made two movies by then and they defined what was hip. Suddenly, the perpetual horndog males and the virginal girls they were perpetually trying to seduce seemed about as cutting edge as an episode of "Leave It to Beaver". By the time the final entry in the series, "How to Stuff a Wild Bikini" limped into theaters in 1965, the bloom was off the rose. This time around, even fans of Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello were disappointed. The script has them in different parts of the globe and they are only seen together briefly at the conclusion. Making matters worse, their appearances in the film are abbreviated with most of the screen time going to supporting players. As was the norm in these films, well known mature character actors are cast in humorous roles apparently to ensure that any parents in the audience stay awake. In this case, we have the legendary Buster Keaton and Mickey Rooney along with the rather bizarre casting of Brian Donlevy. Go figure.

This time around Frankie (who is cleverly cast as a character named "Frankie") is in the U.S. Navy and assigned to Tahiti, where is he basking in the affections of the local beauties including lovely Irene Tsu. The implication is that the Tahitian girls are far more liberal in terms of sexual activities than their American counterparts and its hinted that monogamy isn't a high priority for them. Frankie is understandably intoxicated by having his own harem until he begins to fret that his fiancee, Dee Dee (Annette Funicello) might also be tempted to stray during his long absence. He seeks the advice of the local medicine man (Keaton), who comes up with a strategy: he will concoct a beautiful girl, Casandra, to suddenly appear in the midst of Frankie's beach crowd and prove to be so desirable that every guy in the group will spend their time trying to seduce her instead of pursuing Dee Dee. (This is somewhat of an insult to Dee Dee, implying she would no longer turn heads in the presence of the mystery woman, who is played by Beverly Adams.) The ploy doesn't work because there is indeed a potential suitor for Dee Dee- local playboy Ricky (Dwayne Hickman). Dee Dee plays along, nursing anger and broken heart when she learns that Frankie is not remaining chaste. There is a crazy subplot involving Rooney as a manic marketing executive working for greedy tycoon Donlevy. They scheme to woo Casandra to make her the national model for their brand of motorcycles. In the midst of all this are zany fights, humor that is juvenile enough to alienate the average 10 year-old and climactic (and seemingly) endless cycle race that is filmed in the Keystone Cops mode. One can only suspect that Avalon saw the script and demanded a reduced role. Funicello, who was pregnant at the time, is often relegated to sitting alone on the beach attired in beach wear that skillfully hides this fact. If all of this sounds awful, it plays out on the screen even worse. The only saving grace is some genuinely amusing bits from Keaton and a brief "Bewitched"-inspired cameo by Elizabeth Montgomery, whose presence here is attributed to the fact that she was married to the director/screenwriter William Asher. Even the rock group the Kingsmen aren't used strategically. Instead of playing their smash hit "Louie Louie",  they are relegated to performing an instantly forgettable tune. There is some estimable talent behind the scenes including the esteemed cinematographer Floyd Crosby and composer Lex Baxter, both slumming in search of a quick pay check. Watching the film from the standpoint of a more enlightened era, its astonishing how crass the treatment of the young actresses is. In some shots, they are filmed minus such unnecessary appendages as their heads, as the camera lingers on only the parts that jiggle.

One hates to be a curmudgeon about such simple fare and it is necessary to view it in the context of the era in which it was made. But there lies the rub: "How to Stuff a Wild Bikini" was considered awful even back in 1965 and time has not been kind to it. The Olive Blu-ray has a very nice transfer, though. An original trailer is the only bonus feature.

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RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

BY LEE PFEIFFER

One of the few remaining Steve McQueen films not available on home video finally comes to DVD with Warner Archive's release of the 1961 military comedy The Honeymoon Machine. Sadly, the film can only be recommended to McQueen fans who feel obliged to buy the DVD in order to keep their collections complete. The movie is an embarrassing fiasco that might have been excusable had it been produced by a low-rent film studio. However, MGM backed this turkey and it must have seemed pretty stale even during its release back in the JFK administration. It's worth contemplating that America's obsession at the time with showing respect for any aspect of the military extended to many films that was neutered for fear of offending Pentagon brass. Sure, screenwriters could denote some highschool-like upstarts in the Army or Navy, and the top brass might be seen as  humorless stiffs, but studios rarely wanted to tweak the  powers-that-be, lest they not get cooperation from the military for their war movies. In fact, it wasn't until The Americanization of Emily in 1964 that the glass ceiling was truly broken and the U.S. military could be the object of outright satire and cynicism. From there, the floodgate opened and by the late 1960s and early 1970s, films like Kelly's Heroes and M*A*S*H went to the opposite extreme and portrayed the American military as primarily comprised of dolts.

The Honeymoon Machine was made during the era when servicemen were portrayed as overgrown  kids whose most dangerous exploits were acting like the kind of towel-snapping wiseguys you encounter in locker rooms. In this ill-advised opus, McQueen- in one of his first starring roles- is a Navy lieutenant who teams with civilian scientist Jim Hutton to come up with a scientific method of predicting how roulette wheels can be manipulated. When the fleet pulls into Venice, the theory is tested at the local casino, where McQueen and Hutton break the bank. Unfortunately, through a convoluted sub-plot, their shenanighans are mistaken for espionage activities and a Cold War crisis ensues.

(Photo copyright Mark Cerulli. All rights reserved.)

By Mark Cerulli

Thanks to the Ian Fleming Foundation (IFF,) this scribe was invited to the opening night party for the massive Bond in Motion exhibit at LA’s world-famous Petersen Automotive Museum, co-sponsored by EON Productions. You’ve seen the vehicles on screen, but nothing compares to getting up close and personal with over 34 production-used vehicles from the 1960s right up to No Time To Die. It’s a collection representing almost 30 years of sleuthing by the IFF’s co-founder Doug Redenius and other IFF members.

(Photo copyright Mark Cerulli. All rights reserved.)

L007K UP – Bond’s hang-glider from Moonraker, the Vulcan Bomber model from Thunderball, an Osato chopper model from You Only Live Twice and a full-size Cessna from Licence to Kill.

L007K OUTSIDE – Visitors are greeted by the From Russia With Love chase copter.

L007K OVER THERE – The V8 Volante from The Living Daylights, the (huge) sub from For Your Eyes Only, an Octopussy Tuk-Tuk, the AMC Hornet from The Man With The Golden Gun and a badly damaged Aston Martin DBS used in a record-breaking stunt from Casino Royale.

LOO7K AROUND – At the Jaguar XKR from Die Another Day, a MINT 1964 Aston Martin DB5 (seen in five Bond films), the 1971 Mach 1 from Diamonds Are Forever, Blofeld’s escape sub from Diamonds, the Glastron from Live & Let Die’s iconic boat jump and so many more – all lovingly restored by the IFF.

Luciana Paluzzi with Cinema Retro's Mark Cerulli- and an original "Thunderball" underwater sled. (Photo copyright Mark Cerulli. All rights reserved.)

The evening started with a rooftop cocktail party where the NEFT vodka flowed like Tracy’s dress as invited guests mingled and toasted the night’s VIPs – five, count ‘em, FIVE Bond Girls – Maud Adams (The Man With the Golden Gun, Octopussy), Luciana Paluzzi (Thunderball), Gloria Hendry (Live & Let Die), Lynn-Holly Johnson (For Your Eyes Only) and Mary Stavin (Octopussy, A View To A Kill). They all seemed delighted to see each other and were up for a big night out.

Bond royalty: Maud Adams, Luciana Paluzzi, Lynn-Holly Johnson, Gloria Hendry and Mary Stavin. (Photo copyright Mark Cerulli. All rights reserved.)

Doug and fellow IFF co-founder Michael VanBlaricum gave a discussion on their acquisition of screen-used vehicles, many found in total disrepair across the globe. Then they shared the spotlight with the Bond actresses for some Q&As. Next, the 00 VIPS cut the red ribbon, officially opening the exhibit and crowds swarmed the cars – all artfully arranged by the Petersen staff in unique dioramas. Even the event’s official car transport – DHL – got into the spirit by positioning their 007-branded yellow vans around the Museum. Bond truly is back – and right now, he’s at the Peterson Auto Museum in LA.

(Photo copyright Mark Cerulli. All rights reserved.)

Want to support the IFF’s Bond restorations? You can donate to them at: www.ianflemingfoundation.org

(Special thanks to Stockholm own Double-0, Anders Fredjh.)

For information about the Bond in Motion exhibition, click here. 

BY EVE GOLDBERG

The Twelve Lives of Alfred Hitchcock is not a traditional biography; it’s not even chronological. Instead, the book is a multi-themed, multi-layered exploration of the relationship between Hitchcock’s personality and his art. Each of the twelve chapters looks at the man and his films through a different lens: The Boy Who Couldn’t Grow Up, The Murderer, The Auteur, The Womanizer, The Fat Man, and so on.

White’s take on Hitchcock feels very contemporary. No punches are pulled when it comes to his treatment and abuse of the actresses in his movies, or his issues around gender, sexuality and body image. On the other hand, the tone of the book is even-handed; it’s neither hagiography nor tear-down, but rather a clear-eyed look at a fascinating filmmaker who has given the world a treasure-trove of complicated, entertaining films.

If you’re like me—intrigued by the creative process, interested in how and why films are made— this book is for you!

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BY TODD GARBARINI

High school friends Enid Coleslaw (Thora Birch) and Rebecca Doppelmeyer (Scarlett Johansson) absolutely cannot wait to be free of the prison of school, defiantly flipping the bird and squashing their mortarboards following their graduation. Enid isn’t off the hook just yet: her “diploma” is instead a note informing her that she must “take some stupid art class” (her words) if she hopes to graduate. Their fellow classmates are caricatures of everyone we all knew during our adolescence. Melora (Debra Azar) is inhumanly happy all the time and oblivious to Enid and Rebecca’s sense of ennui and contempt. Todd (T.J. Thyne) is ultra-nervous to talk with the insouciant Rebecca at the punchbowl. Another bespectacled student sits off by himself. Enid and Rebecca are at both an intellectual and emotional crossroads. They want to share an apartment; however, they seem unaware of the amount of money they will have to come up with for such a venture. Instead of finding jobs, their post-graduation afternoons are spent meandering through life while frowning upon society, following strange people home, bothering their mutual friend Josh (Brad Renfro) and admiring the Weird Al wannabe waiter at the new 50’s-themed diner which plays contemporary music. Seemingly without a care in the world, the women have no plans to attend college, preferring instead to prank an unsuspecting nebbish named Seymour (Steve Buscemi) who has placed a personal ad in an attempt to communicate with a striking blonde he noticed, with Enid feigning said blonde on Seymour’s answering machine. Rebecca is a dour and solemn counterpoint to Enid’s aloof yet occasionally jovial demeanor. If Holden Caulfield had a girlfriend, she might be someone just like Enid, sneering at the losers and phonies in her midst. Searching out Seymour, they approach him and his roommate at a garage sale where he is unloading old records for next to nothing. His affection for collecting 78 rpms begins to endear him to Enid, who confides in Rebecca that she likes him despite their 25-year age difference. They have some truly funny moments together such as attending a “party” for guys who talk techno mumbo-jumbo, riding in the car together as Seymour screams at people walking through an intersection, and a humorous romp through an adult video and novelty store.

Rebecca grows tired of hearing about Seymour, and presses Enid to get a job but she only succeeds in getting fired repeatedly, even from her position at the concession stand at a Pacific Theatre cinema when she ribs the customers over their choice of movie and their willingness to eat popcorn with “chemical sludge” poured on it. The tone of the film shifts from one of comedic commentary on the world to one of disillusionment as Enid begins to feel her world slowly begin to crumble around her. Her friendship with Rebecca, an anchor in her life for years, is ending and like so many of us at that age, she has no idea where her life is going or what she needs to be doing when she isn’t changing her hair color or her now-famous blue Raptor t-shirt or donning punk rock garb as a sartorial statement. Her summer art teacher (Illeana Douglas) shows her students her personal thesis film Mirror, Father, Mirror which itself is a parody of the pretentious student films submitted to professors. She pushes Enid to create interesting and powerful art when Enid is only interested in drawing the people she knows and Don Knotts. In short, nothing seems to be going well for her. The only person she can rely on is Norman, the well-dressed man who sits on a bench at a bus stop that stopped service a long time ago and holds the key to the film’s long-debated denouement. Enid is almost like an older version of Jane Burnham, the character portrayed by Ms. Birch in American Beauty (1999). In that film, she barely reacted to her father (Kevin Spacey) and here her contempt for her father (Bob Balaban) and his girlfriend Maxine (Teri Garr) is even more perceptible.

Director Terry Zwigoff takes the source material created by artist and writer Daniel Clowes and fashions one of the most brilliantly entertaining and poignant ruminations on adolescence the silver screen has ever seen. Ghost World also boasts excellent use of music, much of it pre-existing, although the main theme by David Kitay is an elegiac piano theme that recalls David Shire’s theme to The Conversation (1974). The film starts with a bang to the seemingly non-diegetic tune of the Mohammed Rafi hit “Jaan Pehechaan Ho” from the 1965 Hindi film Gumnaam, the scenes of which are intercut with images of the apartment complex’s inhabitants. As the camera tracks from the exterior windows of these grotesqueries, it settles upon Enid’s bedroom where the night before graduation she dances to the aforementioned tune which we now see is being played back on a bootleg VHS tape. The beat is frenetic and infectious. Enid, for the first of only a handful of times in the entire film, appears to be in a state of joy as she mimics the moves of the dancers. If only she could always feel this way! With this singular sequence, Mr. Zwigoff achieves something reserved for only the greatest and rarest of filmmakers – re-identifying a popular musical piece with his movie. I can’t hear “The Blue Danube” without thinking of spaceships spinning throughout the galaxy.

Ghost World opened on Friday, July 20, 2001 in limited release in New York and Los Angeles and garnered immediate critical acclaim. Filmed in 2000, the film is a product of a simpler and more innocent time. Before the brutal wake-up call of the September 11th attacks, there is a complete lack of cell phone usage in the film. It makes a great companion to 2001’s other minor masterpiece of adolescent angst, the cult favorite Donnie Darko.

“GOIN’ TO TOWN” (1935; Directed by Alexander Hall)

“KLONDIKE ANNIE” (1936; Directed by Raoul Walsh)

“GO WEST, YOUNG MAN” (1936; Directed by Henry Hathaway)

“EVERY DAY’S A HOLIDAY” (1937; Directed by A. Edward Sutherland)

“MY LITTLE CHICKADEE” (1940; Directed by Edward F. Cline)

(Kino Lorber)

“GOODNESS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT—THE MAE WEST FILMS, PART TWO”

By Raymond Benson

This is the continuation of reviews of the classic 1930s (and 1940) films of Mae West, which began here.

Kino Lorber has just released in gorgeously restored, high-definition presentations every Mae West film made between 1932-1940—the Paramount years, plus one with Universal. This review will cover the last five of nine titles.

What is not commonly appreciated among Hollywood enthusiasts is that Mae West held a unique position in the history of cinema. Until the modern era, she had the extraordinary fortune—for her time—of being a leading actress who wrote her own screenplays. Six of the nine pictures reviewed here and in Part One were written by West, one was co-written, and all but the first was based on or adapted from West’s plays or stories. It wasn’t until the likes of Tina Fey, Kristen Wiig, Angelina Jolie, and a finite number of other actresses appeared on the scene to write original scripts for themselves that Hollywood allotted that kind of opportunity to a female performer. West was doing it in the 1930s, and this was unprecedented. Her talent and wit deserve a renewed appreciation today.

Her first two solo pictures (not counting her debut, Night After Night) are undoubtedly the quintessential Mae West movies (She Done Him Wrong and I’m No Angel) because of the freedom she had in the pre-Code years. Once the Production Code kicked in on July 1, 1934, West battled censorship and the challenges of getting across her risqué humor with more subtlety. It can be said that her remaining Paramount Pictures titles suffered when compared to the pre-Code fare, but they are still entertaining and worth a look.

Goin’ to Town (1935) takes place at the turn of the century when automobiles are appearing but there are still horses and buggies. It’s a globe-hopping affair that begins in what appears to be the Wild West as Cleo Borden (West) is a cattle rancher who juggles men on the way to fulfill her desire to refine her manners and join high society. Although her designs are really aimed at British engineer Edward Carrington (Paul Cavanaugh), she marries Fletcher Colton (Monroe Owsley) for convenience, but he’s an obsessive gambler. In Buenos Aires, Cleo faces off with rival Grace Brittony (Marjorie Gateson). As a recurring theme to this and other West vehicles, the actress sings “He’s a Bad, Bad Man, but He’s Good Enough for Me”! Goin’ to Town is entertaining enough—it’s better than the previous Belle of the Nineties, but the picture lacks interesting co-stars for West. The Blu-ray comes with an audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, plus the theatrical trailer.

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Klondike Annie (1936) is overseen by solid filmmaker Raoul Walsh, and it shows. It is perhaps the best of West’s post-Code pictures, despite its embarrassingly offensive take on Asian characters, which was standard operating procedure in Hollywood for the time. It’s the 1890s again (why do so many of West’s films take place in that decade?). Rose Carlton (West) is a “kept woman” in San Francisco’s Chinatown by cruel club owner Chan Lo (Harold Huber, not an Asian actor). Rose ends up killing Lo and escapes on a ship to Alaska, the captain of which is Bull Brackett (the fabulous Victor McLaglen). Rose disguises herself and impersonates the deceased Sister Annie Alden, a missionary who was on her way to Nome to head up the only establishment of worship in an otherwise rough Gold Rush town. Bull falls hard for “Annie,” and she likes him, too, but she also has eyes for Mountie-like inspector Jack Forrest (Phillip Reed), who is looking for Rose because she’s now wanted for murder. Klondike Annie went through major Hays Office interference and in fact two major scenes were deleted from the film—the murder of Lo (we now only hear about what happened in conversation later), and the sequence in which Rose dons Annie’s clothing and dresses the former sister in the garb of a streetwalker (the censors seriously objected to this on puritanical grounds!). Nevertheless, Klondike is lively, rather suspenseful, and features the most exotic of settings for a Mae West movie. The disk comes with an audio commentary by film historians Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson, plus the theatrical trailer.

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Go West, Young Man (also 1936) was helmed by accomplished director Henry Hathaway, and it fares well for West and her filmography. West is controversial movie star Mavis Arden, who has a penchant to get in trouble. Thus, her studio has assigned press agent Morgan (Warren William, who was known as the “king of pre-Code,” but he was apparently still working post-Code) to keep an eye on Mavis and stop her from dalliances with men. On the way to a public appearance, their car breaks down in a hick town where Mavis and Morgan must stay at a boarding house run by a prudish woman (Alice Brady) and her more open-minded aunt (Elizabeth Patterson). The problem is that hunky Bud Norton (Randolph Scott) runs the gas station next door to the boarding house! It’s another enjoyable West romp that is more of a screwball comedy than any of her other pictures. The disk comes with an audio commentary by author/film historian Lee Gambin, plus the theatrical trailer.

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Every Day’s a Holiday (1937) was the last picture West made for Paramount, after which her contract was cancelled. She, along with many other actresses such as Katharine Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich, and even Bette Davis, were deemed at the time by the Hollywood press as “box office poison” (which was nonsense, of course). It’s too bad, for Holiday is one of the funnier titles in the West canon, mainly due to character actor co-stars Charles Butterworth (as Graves, a butler who is sweet on West’s character, Peaches O’Day), Charles Winninger (as Van Doon, an outrageous millionaire who also has the hots for Peaches), and bumbling Walter Catlett (as Nifty, Peaches’ manager). Peaches, who has a habit of “selling” the Brooklyn Bridge to numbskulls, has her eyes on police captain McCarey (Edmund Lowe), whose rival is the police chief Quade (Lloyd Nolan). Peaches, wanted by the law, “disguises” herself by donning a black wig—and of course no one recognizes her as Peaches anymore (!). Quade, once pursuing Peaches to arrest her, is now after “Fifi” to woo her. Fun stuff all around. Look for Louis Armstrong’s cameo leading a marching band and performing a song. The disk comes with an audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, plus the theatrical trailer.

HIGHLIGHTS OF ISSUE #29 INCLUDE:

• Lee Pfeiffer interviews director William Friedkin about the restoration of his controversial film Sorcerer starring Roy Scheider
• Don L. Stradley looks at how horror films saved the careers of veteran actresses such as Bette Davis, Joan Crawford and Shelly Winters
• Nicholas Anez compares the John Wayne/Howard Hawks  classics Rio Bravo and El Dorado
• The Wicker Man 40th Anniversary- Mark Mawston interviews the film's director Robin Hardy
• Lee Pfeiffer interviews actress Nancy Kwan about breaking racial barriers in Hollywood
• Howard Hughes covers the forgotten WWII flick The Last Escape starring Stuart Whitman
• Cai Ross pays tribute to the supporting actors of All the President's Men: Jason Robards, Jack Warden and Martin Balsam
• Harvey Chartrand on Mary Rose, Alfred Hitchcock's aborted thriller.
• Gareth Owen's tribute to legendary James Bond cinematographer Alec Mills
• Lee Van Cleef in Sabata and Death Rides a Horse
• Mike Siegel on Sam Peckinpah's cult classic Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia
• Roland Schaefli  visits the German film locations of  the Steve McQueen classic The Great Escape- then and now.
• Paul Sutton: "Meeting Malcolm McDowell"
• Plus the latest film book, soundtrack and DVD reviews

USA/ CANADA : CINEMA RETRO ISSUE #29

USA/ CANADA : CINEMA RETRO ISSUE #29 $15.00 USD

UK : CINEMA RETRO ISSUE #29

UK : CINEMA RETRO ISSUE #29 £8.50 GBP

EUROPE : CINEMA RETRO ISSUE #29

EUROPE : CINEMA RETRO ISSUE #29 £10.50 GBP

REST OF THE WORLD : CINEMA RETRO ISSUE #29

REST OF THE WORLD : CINEMA RETRO ISSUE #29 £12.00 GBP

By Raymond Benson

The witty, controversial, and fabulous actress/comedienne Mae West displays her jewelry to the coat check girl. “Goodness, what beautiful diamonds!” the girl exclaims. Mae West coolly replies in her sultry, New York-accented signature voice, “Goodness had nothing to do with it, dearie.”

The line was also the title of West’s memoir, published in 1959, and is one of her many memorable utterances, along with “Come up and see me sometime.” (However, the first time this one is spoken, in She Done Him Wrong, she actually says, “Why don’t you come up sometime and see me?”)

Kino Lorber has just released in restored, high-definition presentations every Mae West film made between 1932-1940—the Paramount years, plus one with Universal. This review will cover the first four out of nine titles, with the remaining five to come in a later “Part Two.”

Hollywood knew that Mae West would be trouble (but a possible box office winner) before she was invited to the west coast to star in films. She had made her name in New York vaudeville as a bawdy, talented, sexy, and very funny lady. West could sing and deliver one-liners with the best of them; she wasn’t so much a dancer, but she did have the ability to sashay with aplomb. West transitioned to Broadway, writing and starring in her own shows to great success. One, though, the 1926 play entitled Sex, got her into hot water with the morality police and she was arrested for indecency charges. West quickly bounced back, having garnered even more publicity because of the raid, and became more popular than ever. That’s when Hollywood, namely the more adventurous Paramount Pictures, came calling.

Paramount tended to push the envelope in the pre-Code days with violent gangster pictures, sex comedies, and the early movies by the anarchic, surreal Marx Brothers. Mae West fit in quite well at Paramount, where she quickly took control of her screen career. What is truly remarkable is that West was 39 when she made her first picture. For a Hollywood studio to introduce any actress at that age was unheard of, before and probably since.

All of West’s movies follow a formula established by the second one, which was such a success that it saved Paramount from bankruptcy. Usually there are crime hijinks going on involving former and current boyfriends. West acquires a flirtatious love-hate relationship with the wealthy leading man. All the men try to hoodwink West and each other, and she does some sneaky trickery to foil their plots. At the end West always ends up with the leading man, even after it seemed that they were kaput. Oh, and there are some musical numbers thrown in for good measure.

Herewith are the first four titles released on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber, all of which look spectacularly “new” and blemish-free.

Night After Night (1932) is really a melodrama/gangster flick starring George Raft and Constance Cummings. Mae West appears in a supporting role as Maudie Triplett, but she steals the movie. In fact, Raft in later years is known to have said, “She stole everything but the cameras!” Joe Anton (Raft) is the owner of a speakeasy (it was still Prohibition at the time), and he must handle conflicting love affairs and competition from rival mobsters. Maudie is a former girlfriend (now just a friend) who comes to the club for a good time. Her scenes with Mabel Jellyman (Alison Skipworth), the matronly woman who is teaching Joe how to speak “properly” and develop more high-class manners, are worth the price of admission—almost. The picture is all right, but without West’s debut, Night After Night would likely have dropped into obscurity. The Blu-ray comes with an audio commentary by film historians Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson, plus the theatrical trailer.

She Done Him Wrong (1933) has the distinction of being the shortest movie (66 minutes) ever to be nominated for the Best Picture Oscar (it lost to Cavalcade). It also features young Cary Grant as the leading man, just a few months after he appeared with Marlene Dietrich in Blonde Venus (1932). Since both movies were in production around the same time, West and Dietrich publicly feuded over “who discovered Cary Grant first.” She Done Him Wrong is a comedy-gangster piece and is without a doubt the quintessential Mae West motion picture—the pre-Code suggestiveness in her dialogue and actions was cause for alarm for the Puritanical-minded in the country, paving the way for the Hays Office to initiate the Production Code on July 1, 1934. West is Lady Lou, a risqué singer in an 1890s Bowery saloon (New York City), where the owner and sometimes boyfriend, Gus (Noah Beery Jr.), is also running a prostitution ring (heavily implied) and counterfeit money operation. Captain Cummings (Grant) is an FBI man masquerading as the director of the mission next door. While he’s investigating the crimes undercover, Cummings and Lou become attracted to each other. For a movie that’s just a little over an hour, the plot is seriously complex! Nevertheless, it’s grand entertainment—it’s West at her best. The Blu-ray disk comes with two audio commentaries—one by film historian David Del Valle, and the other by film historian Kat Ellinger. There is also an introduction from Turner Classic Movies by Robert Osborne, as well as a vintage Walter Lantz cartoon starring Pooch the Pup, “She Done Him Right,” that borrows heavily from the style and tone of the Fleischers’ Betty Boop cartoons. The theatrical trailers and other West trailers round out the package.

I’m No Angel (1933) is still ensconced in sassy, sexy pre-Code sensibilities. It was West’s most financially successful picture, coming after the previous hit. Cary Grant co-stars once again. This time, West is Tira, a hootchy-cootchy singer/dancer in a circus sideshow, but she also doubles as a lion tamer (!). In one sequence she puts her head in the mouth of a lion (obviously done with rear-screen projection, but there are scenes in which West is in the cage with real lions and pets one). The sideshow impresario, Big Bill Barton (Edward Arnold) is a crook, Tira’s beau Slick (Ralf Harolde) is just as bad, and Tira wants to break away from the show and be on her own. She succeeds, goes to New York, and meets the cousin of a rich beau, Jack Clayton (Grant), who is trying to keep his relative away from Tira. They fall in love instead, of course. Look for future Oscar winner Hattie McDaniel in an uncredited role as a maid. Mae West was known for insisting on parts being given to African American actresses and actors. Unfortunately, in those days, the only roles for black performers in Hollywood were as maids, butlers, train conductors, and Tarzan natives. I’m No Angel is second in ranking only to She Done Him Wrong, with Mae West in top form in a very entertaining picture. The Blu-ray comes with an audio commentary by film historian Samm Deighan, plus the theatrical trailer.

Belle of the Nineties (1934) was originally supposed to be titled It Ain’t No Sin, but the Production Code went into effect just as production finished. The censors forced West to revise some dialogue and change the title. It’s a shame, for the remainder of West’s films in the 1930s, while still entertaining, were sadly neutered of their frank boldness and—let’s face it—the daring and evocative innuendos that made Mae West movies something to see. In this one, she plays Ruby, a singer in the 1890s (again), this time in St. Louis. Her boyfriend, boxer Tiger Kid (Roger Pryor) finds that he has rivals in wealthier, “classier” men (who are all crooks, though). She moves to New Orleans for a better position, only to become embroiled in fight fixing shenanigans. Belle is a tangible step down from the previous two pictures. While directed by comedy stalwart Leo McCarey (Duck Soup, The Awful Truth, and later, Going My Way), Belle sort of plods along and doesn’t produce the expected belly laughs. It does, however, introduce the jazz standard, “My Old Flame,” sung by West and accompanied by Duke Ellington and his band on screen. The Blu-ray comes with an audio commentary by film historian Samm Deighan, plus the theatrical trailer.

Certainly a boon for film history lovers and aficionados of 1930s Hollywood, these new Kino Lorber Blu-ray releases are terrific. Cinema Retro will review the remaining five Mae West titles—including one co-starring W. C. Fields—in a coming piece. To be continued!

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RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Scorpion, the video label that specializes in first-class releases of often second-rate films, does it again with Point of Terror, an obscure thriller from 1971. The film was the brainchild of star/writer/producer Peter Carpenter (Blood Mania). Never heard of him? Neither had I until this screener copy arrived. A bit of research reveals that Carpenter was a wanna-be star with grand ambition and modest talents - much like the character he plays in the film, which was directed by Alex Nicol. Sadly, Carpenter's reed-thin list of movie credits is due to the fact that he died young- in fact, shortly after this film was released. Carpenter, who personifies "beefcake", plays a lounge singer with a loyal following. However, he's frustrated that his fame is limited to a local restaurant. Although he has his pick of the female groupies, he's convinced he's destined for fame and fortune. He meets Andrea (Dyanne Thorne of Ilse, She Wolf of the S.S. fame), an uppercrust cougar who helps her impotent wheelchair-bound hubby operate his record empire. Before you can say "Wayne Newton", the pair is tossing and turning all night under the covers. Both characters are manipulative and unsympathetic, which makes it hard to empathize with either one. Andrea is using Tony as her boy toy, while he is using her clout to advance his record career. Soon, both are enmeshed in dastardly deeds including infidelity and murder.

The film has overtones of Play Misty for Me (i.e, sexual obsession taken to a lethal stage) but Clint Eastwood probably didn't lose any sleep worrying that the impact of his film would be diminished by this one. Carpenter himself is a strangely perplexing personality. At times, he resonates legitimate charisma, but at other times, his acting is grade school level. Additionally, the film's opening credits are set to a scene of Tony performing his lounge act- clad in bright red buckskins! It's doubtful this looked hunky even in 1971 and the sequence is unintentionally hilarious, reminding one of those scenes in which women faint in passion at the sight of Austin Powers prancing about in his underwear. Thorne gives a slightly more accomplished performance and gets to doff her top in a swimming pool to display her trademark assets. (This was the 70s, remember, and such sequences were all but obligatory for B level actresses.) The movie plods at times and the action is rather clunkily directed, but the film is generally engrossing. Scorpion has provided the usual bevy of extras including an interview with actress Leslie Simms, who has a role in the film. She also served as Carpenter's acting coach and reminisces with affection about her friendship with him. Thorne is also heard via a phone interview done for this release. As with Simms, she speaks highly of Carpenter. The DVD release also includes a trailer and the original poster art on the packaging, which deceitfully implies this is a horror film. Another nice job by Scorpion for a film that would otherwise be lost to the ages.

BY HANK REINEKE

In March of 2019 I took a drive to the Hudson River town of Nyack, New York, for a rare public screening of Bob Dylan’s ill-fated cinematic opus Renaldo & Clara. The film, originally released to art houses in New York City and Los Angeles January of 1978, was mercilessly panned. The movie – shot during Dylan’s fabled autumn 1975 tour with his ragtag Rolling Thunder Revue – all but disappeared from cinemas and, mostly, from public consciousness within the span of a few weeks. The original cut of the film was, let’s charitably say, a rambling affair, clocking in at just under four hours.

Dylan would tell his co-writer, the playwright Sam Shepard, that he was looking to model his film after a pair of French classics: Marcel Carné’s Les Enfants du Paradis (Children of Paradise) (1945) and Francois Truffaut’s Shoot the Piano Player (1960). Or, as he would further expound in his famous mumble, “Something like that.” If that was Dylan’s original vision for Renaldo & Clara, the resulting film fell far short of its lofty ambitions. Four decades on, I can still recall reading Pauline Kael’s withering review in the New Yorker, describing Dylan as a “sour Messiah,” the film demonstrating “an absence of artistic intelligence.” Even the street-hip Village Voice famously devoted several pages of opinions on the opus from seven different writer-critics, all of whom descended with sharpened knives.

There’s one aspect of the original production that’s pretty remarkable. In the torrent of old releases that would flood the market following the advent of home video, Dylan never chose to green-light an official release of Renaldo & Clara. The notes to this set suggest one reason this might be so: the original negative of the musical portion of the Rolling Thunder Revue tour footage seems to have been lost. The dazzling tour footage offered here on this new Criterion release - material mostly culled from vintage Renaldo & Clara footage in strikingly gorgeous quality, all things considered – is the result of a pristine 4K transfer from a surviving 16mm workprint.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The reason behind my traveling to Nyack in 2019 was two-fold. The screening of Renaldo & Clara that afternoon was to be hosted by Rob Stoner, the bass player and bandleader of the Rolling Thunder Revue, Bob Dylan’s backing ensemble in autumn 1975. I was hoping that since Stoner was a central figure in Dylan’s inner circle (at one time), we might – at long last – experience the film in better resolution. The only copies of Renaldo and Clara that circulated through “underground” channels amongst collectors had allegedly been sourced from a couple of one-off European TV broadcasts. Since the videotapes of those broadcasts varied wildly in picture and sound quality, the caliber of the bootleg sourced was dependent upon what generation a copy had been mastered from.

So it was with some surprise and disappointment when I discovered that Stoner’s personal copy was hardly better than any of the several rather ropey dupes that found their way into my own collection over the years. What didn’t disappoint were the memories and asides that Stoner would re-live and share as the near four-hour epic that is Renaldo & Clara unspooled, once again, before our eyes.

The old saying suggests “truth is stranger than fiction.” I personally believe that truth is, more often than not, actually far more interesting than fiction as well. Which leads me into this discussion of Martin Scorsese’s Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story, newly released as part of the white-glove Criterion Collection series. There were plenty of reasons to be excited by this release. Scorsese is an unabashed Bob Dylan fan. Anyone who saw “Life Lessons,” the director’s segment of the 1989 anthology film New York Stories, will recall Nick Nolte’s emotionally-wrought artist fiercely thrashing away at his canvas as Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” plays angrily on the stereo in his studio loft. More importantly, it was Scorsese that also gave us – via a PBS broadcast in 2005 - the celebrated and highly recommended 207 minute long two-part documentary film Bob Dylan: No Direction Home.

So when it was announced in 2018 that Scorsese would be tackling a film recounting Dylan’s legendary Rolling Thunder Revue tour for Netflix, my expectations ran pretty high. But on the evening of the film’s streaming premiere, I switched off the TV at the program’s conclusion with, at best, a sense of half-satisfaction. The footage of Dylan’s musical performances was stunning, an affirmation of the legendary status long affixed to these shows. On the other hand, I admit to being totally dismissive of the film’s faux documentary aspects. As a huge admirer of Dylan’s music and career, it only took a few minutes in to see that the feature’s sub-title “A Bob Dylan Story” was a literal one. It was exactly that, a story: an uneasy blending of factual items with fantasies and outright deceptions.

The problem with the folks who involve themselves on Bob Dylan’s various film projects is that they allow themselves to get personally sucked into his personal orbit of playful disinformation and obfuscation. His film collaborators become, in effect, coconspirators. The reason that D.A. Pennebaker’s seminal documentary of Dylan’s 1965 tour of England, Don’t Look Back (1967), will very likely remain the most honest portrait of the artist is that this director didn’t allow himself to be manipulated by the bard - to any great degree, at least. I’m not of the camp to pretend that the Dylan we’re introduced to in Don’t Look Back (magnetic, abrasive, playful, rude, gifted), is the “real” Bob Dylan. Once Pennebaker’s cameras begin to roll, Dylan may or may not have consciously play-acted before them. But at least audiences were allowed to decide for themselves whether or not Dylan was the ultimate brat or a musical genius or, perhaps, a confusing and peculiar mix of both.

BY MARK MAWSTON

We regret to report that actor John Richardson has passed away this week, just two weeks before what would have been his 87th birthday. 

John found fame in the 1960s via films such as Mario Bava's Black Sunday and Hammer Film's remakes of She and One Million Years B.C., wherein he co-starred alongside many of the most beautiful actresses of the era, such as Ursula Andress, Barbara Steele and Raquel Welch who famously bemoaned, on first being introduced to John, that her new leading man was more beautiful than she was! 

John's role in One Million Years B.C. (1966), Ray Harryhausen's prehistoric animated cult classic, led to a long relationship with his co-star Martine Beswick and a move to Hollywood, where he landed roles in big budget Hollywood productions such as Vincente Minnelli's On A Clear Day You Can See Forever with Barbra Streisand. 

Not a fan of Hollywood, John began working in his beloved Italy, starring in low-budget thrillers such as Torso and Eyeball, which he was surprised to find had a larger following than some of his more mainstream features. Some of these films he hadn't seen since he made them and which I had the pleasure of finding and giving them to him to watch. John famously used to ask for the car he drove in these films to be included in his fee and he also informed me that he once bought a vehicle that took his fancy from Steve McQueen.

Cars may have been a passion but his first real love- bar his partner Helen- was photography. We were introduced via a mutual friend, and from this, our shared passion for film and photography led to the interview that subsequently appeared in Cinema Retro (Vol. 15: issues 45 and 46).  John discussed his life both in front of and behind the camera, his first career-spanning interview since retiring from the film world, as he preferred to remain out of the limelight and to spend most of his days walking and taking photographs.

John may have battled dinosaurs and vampires on screen but the current real-life horror of Covid took from us one of the true gentlemen of cinema whose love for life was obvious through the twinkle in his famously blue eyes. The eternal flame that John entered in She is true in a way; for as long as the amazing genre films in which he starred continue to flicker on screen, John will always be with us. 

John’s partner Helen thought it would be fitting that this announcement came via Cinema Retro and myself, as I'd become very close to John after our interview, catching up with each other most weeks via the phone. In his usual down-to-earth way, he initially said "no one would be interested in hearing my stories". They were- and John was shocked to learn that they had been nominated in last year's Rondo Awards. His experiences pertained to a golden age when stars really were just that. Now, another real star is shining in the heavens.

John's time as a movie star led to several iconic roles on screen but it was his work as a photographer that he was most passionate about and through this he has left us with many more iconic images that he took from behind a lens.

John M. Richardson January 19th 1934- January 5th 2020.

“THE MASTER OF SURREALISM”

By Raymond Benson

Today we might say that David Lynch is the foremost purveyor of surrealism in the arts; but he inherited that mantle from the late, great Luis Buñuel, who was one of the fathers of the surrealist movement in Europe in the 1920s.

What is surrealism, you ask? You probably “know it when you see it,” but the true definition, as imposed by the surrealists who made it a thing, is to portray in an artistic expression the nature of dreams. That can be in paintings (Salvador Dalí, Max Ernst), theatre (Jean Cocteau), photography (Man Ray), and film (Buñuel, along with others like Cocteau, Germaine Dulac, and more). Surrealism in film may just seem “weird” to some audiences, but it’s actually satirical, nightmarish, irreverent, and profound, and it can be a commentary on the real, contemporary world.

Luis Buñuel was indeed the master of cinematic surrealism. From his debut short silent picture, Un Chien Andalou (1929), that he co-directed with Salvador Dalí, through such titles as Los olvidados (The Young and the Damned; 1950), Viridiana (1961), and Belle de jour (1967), Buñuel challenged audiences with often brilliant, sometimes confounding work that was controversial, hilarious, and political. Poor Buñuel had to move from one country to another because he’d sometimes make a film that the authorities found objectionable, so he’d go somewhere else—and then rinse and repeat. Mostly, though, he worked in France, Mexico, and his native Spain.

In the 1970s, Buñuel himself was in his seventies, and he made three of his most acclaimed masterpieces; in fact, they were his final three movies. They were French/Spanish co-productions, utilizing casts and crews from both countries, many of whom worked on more than one of these and in some cases all three. Produced by Serge Silberman, the titles serve as something of a trilogy, although in truth they are unrelated.

The Criterion Collection has released a new box set containing all three films in high definition, upgraded from earlier, separate DVD releases. It is, frankly, an abundance of riches.

The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie; 1972) is arguably Buñuel’s most well-known title. It deservedly won the Oscar that year for Best Foreign Language Film, and it was also nominated in the Original Screenplay category (written by Buñuel and longtime collaborator Jean-Claude Carrière). With an all-star French and Spanish cast consisting of the likes of Fernando Rey, Delphine Seyrig, Jean-Pierre Cassel, Paul Frankeur, Bulle Ogier, Stéphane Audran, and Michel Piccoli, Discreet is the story—if one can call it that—of a group of wealthy friends who are always attempting to get together for dinner, but their plans are consistently interrupted. Sometimes it’s because the scene is taking place in one person’s dream and it goes haywire, or perhaps it’s because one of the host couples decide to ignore their guests, run off, and have sex in the garden. The bourgeoisie, in this case, are the snobs, the “hoity-toity,” the pretentious upper-class people of Parisian society—and they are Buñuel’s targets. The episodic absurdities are funny and strange, but ultimately delightfully cockeyed.

The Phantom of Liberty (Le Fantôme de la liberté; 1974) takes the dark comedy of Discreet and goes a couple of steps further. Phantom is a series of vignettes—sketches, really—tied together only by an element from the preceding sketch. For example, a character from one vignette might leave the room, get in a car, and arrive in a new sketch to interact with a whole new group of people and a different situation. Again, the cast is international (Bond film fans will recognize Bond-villain-actors Adolfo Celi and Michel Lonsdale in the cast), with many of the same personnel from Discreet. The sequences here are more acerbic and sometimes shocking, and always a comment on incongruities of society. For example, in one dinner party scene, the guests are seated around the dining table on toilets (and, yes, the women lift their dresses, and the men pull down their pants to sit at the table). However, no food is served. During the conversation, each guest must quietly ask the hostess “where the dining room is,” (“Oh, it’s down the hall, first door on your left”), where the guest goes into a stall, is served a plate of food from a dumb waiter, and proceeds to eat dinner in private! (“It’s occupied!” one diner proclaims when another guest knocks on the door.) Wild stuff.

Fernando Rey and Carole Bouquet in "That Obscure Object of Desire".

That Obscure Object of Desire (Cet obscure objet du désir; 1977) was Buñuel’s last film. It was nominated for the Best Foreign Film and Adapted Screenplay Oscars, but it did not win. It is a little more conventional than the previous two pictures with one exception. The character of Conchita, the “obscure object of desire” of the title, is played by two different actresses (Carole Bouquet, four years prior to appearing in the Bond film For Your Eyes Only, and Ángela Molina). There are sequences, for example, in which Conchita, played by Bouquet, goes out the door and then immediately returns, but this time it’s Molina as the same character. Fernando Rey is Mathieu, an older, wealthy man who has met Conchita and fallen head over heels for her. He spends the entire movie alternately frustrated and mesmerized by the woman, who leads him on, resists him, tempts him, and plays hard to get. It isn’t long before we realize that Buñuel is making a blatant statement on the nature of male/female relationships and who really has the upper hand in them. It’s a fascinating, sometimes erotic, and insightful piece of work.

Criterion’s 3-disk Blu-ray set presents all three films in new high-definition digital restorations with uncompressed monaural soundtracks. The distinctive 1970s film stock is quite evident, but the images are much improved over the previous DVD editions. Supplements are bountiful, way too many to list here (all the extras from the DVDs are ported over, and there are many additions on each disk). There are several documentaries about Buñuel, some of which are feature-length, and vintage “making of” featurettes. Interviews with a selection of Buñuel’s colleagues, such as co-writer Carrière, are fascinating. The thick booklet contains essays by critic Adrian Martin and novelist/critic Gary Indiana, along with interviews with Buñuel.

Three Films by Luis Buñuel is highly recommended for fans of art house cinema, unconventional narrative, black humor, and exquisite oddities that you just don’t see every day.

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BY FRED BLOSSER

In George Axelrod’s “Lord Love a Duck” (1966), Roddy McDowall and Tuesday Weld play high school seniors in Los Angeles. McDowall was 38 at the time, Weld 23. Such casting, where actors in their twenties or older play teenagers, is typical for Hollywood, then and now. In “Lord Love a Duck,” which Axelrod produced, co-wrote, and directed from a novel by Al Hine, neither McDowall nor Weld exactly looks like an 18-year-old, nor do the actresses who play their classmates. They include Jo Collins, 21, then a recent Playmate of the Year. But here the disconnect doesn’t really detract from the film. It simply underscores its overall cartoonish surrealism. McDowall plays Alan, the genius-level valedictorian of his class, who fixates on his classmate, pretty but vacuous Barbara Ann (Weld). “Her deepest and most heartfelt yearnings express with a kind of touching lyricism the total vulgarity of our time,” he marvels. The daughter of divorced parents, living with her mother, a minimum-wage cocktail waitress (Lola Albright), she’s lonely and adrift. She’s especially insecure since she’s been transferred to a brand new school through a consolidation, and now she’s largely surrounded by kids she hadn’t known before. (A sign that we’re in 1966 and not 2020, Consolidated High’s student body and staff all appear to be white.) When Alan approaches her, she initially takes for granted that his interest is sexual. “I don’t do bad things with boys,” she says. “You don’t have to do anything,” he responds. Instead, he just wants to help her obtain the things she thinks will make her happy in life.

Alan is so enterprising that other industrious movie and TV teens like Ferris Bueller and Alex P. Keaton look like slackers in comparison. Barbara Ann’s wish list encompasses things that will bring her instant gratification, and the first ones are simple. When she needs to buy twelve cashmere sweaters to join the other girls‘ Cashmere Sweater Club, Alan advises that she wheedle her father Howard (Max Showalter), playing on his guilt that he’s been mostly absent from her life. When Barbara Ann wishes she could go on a vacation, he suggests that she join the youth group from her church on its weekend retreat to Malibu. Her next ambitions require a little more work. The minister’s nephew Bob (Martin West) is the chaperone for the trip, and when Barbara Ann decides “I want him” (“Like the sweaters and the vacation?” Alan asks), Alan contrives to engineer a wedding. What does Alan get out of helping her, Barbara Ann asks. He suggests it’s the joy of manipulation, “I think of things,” although the expression on his face says he’s not altogether sure. Or maybe he realizes that even his ingenuity is starting to get taxed. On the Malibu trip, they encounter a B-movie producer, T. Harrison Belmont (Martin Gabel, unbilled), who’s on the lookout for a fresh face to star in his next “bikini” film. When Barbara Ann quickly sours on her marriage, she yearns for freedom to pursue her next desire, fame. Belmont offers an avenue for achieving that goal, but first Alan has to remove the obstacle that now stands in the way, Bob.

The first half of “Lord Love a Duck” is outrageous and striking. Axelrod splashes his disdain for trendy, materialistic culture with broad, gleeful strokes. When Barbara Ann’s father picks her up for the trip to the sweater shop, they first stop at a curbside diner for lunch and scarf down on hot dogs like gluttonous kids on a date. The camera puts us in the front seat with them, uncomfortably close. At the store, the shopping trip turns into a symbolic orgy of consumerism and sex. Barbara Ann seems to become erotically aroused by trying on a succession of sweaters labeled “Grape Yum Yum,” “Periwinkle Pussycat,” and “Turquoise Trouble.” Watching in extreme closeup, Dad leers, pops his eyes, and shivers like a lecher brought to life from a dirty cartoon. Seemingly sated, they finally sprawl on the pile of tried-on garments. Barbara Ann’s place of worship, the “First Drive-In Church of Southern California” and its unctuously cheery pastor, Dr. Neuhauser (Donald Murphy), kid the mega-church movement that had begun to emerge in the ‘60s. Moderating the church’s youth group, Dr. Neuhauser focuses the discussion on sex rather than scripture. It seemed like a wacky concept then. Now, the real-life Dr. Neuhausers are formidable power-brokers in national politics, still more absorbed in other people’s sex lives than in spiritual matters. The buffoonish principal at the new high school (Harvey Korman) is happy because he now has a public address system. He’s as easily manipulated by Alan as everyone else is.

“LIGHT AND DARK SIDES OF TINSEL TOWN”

By Raymond Benson

Turner Classic Movies (TCM) has lately been getting into the publishing business with such tomes as The Essentials (two volumes) and now this handsomely-designed and intricately-researched book on some of the lesser known, somewhat sensational stories from Hollywood’s past.

Written by popular Instagrammer Carla Valderrama (@thiswashollywood and @thiswasfashion), This Was Hollywood—Forgotten Stars & Stories (published by Running Press) presents a bundle of Tinsel Town tales that have a slightly tabloid feel to them, and yet they are as irresistible as a sighting of your favorite star at Hollywood and Vine. Many of these accounts come from the long, lost vaults of movieland history.

For example, the book opens with the early beginnings of the town of Hollywood and how the “movies” (as the people in the budding film industry were called by the locals) took over and turned the sleepy community into one of the world’s most well-known cities. There’s a piece on the first movie star, Florence Lawrence, who was so popular that when she moved from Biograph Studios to IMP, she was promised that she would receive an actual billing of her name on screen. You’ll learn the remarkable story of how Rin Tin Tin was found, brought to America, and trained to be one of the biggest stars of the silent era.

Some of the stories you might know. There will be more that you didn’t. Clark Gable’s love child. Sessue Hayakawa’s years as a “sex symbol.” Olivia de Havilland’s lawsuits against Warner Brothers. Marni Nixon and her “ghost-singing” for famous actresses in musicals. And much, much more.

The hardcover edition comes with a lovely jacket that feels remarkably nice in one’s hands. Kudos to the designers of both the exterior and especially the interior, which is lavishly illustrated.

In short, there is enough silver screen archaeology and anthropology here to make any Hollywood history enthusiast salivate.

Also available in e-book and audiobook formats (although the latter would surely be missing the great visuals), This Was Hollywood is highly recommended.

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RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

BY LEE PFEIFFER

In the early 1970s producer and director Bob Chinn was one of the most prolific and profitable names in the adult film industry. Chinn's productions may have had skimpy production values but he generally made them look more grandiose than anything competing erotic film producers were able to offer. Like many filmmakers in this bizarre genre, Chinn aspired to do films that were more mainstream and meaningful. He entered a collaboration with Alain Patrick,  a young hunky actor in the Jan-Michael Vincent mode who had his own aspirations to become a respected star. By 1971 Patrick had accumulated some legitimate film and TV credits but always in "blink-and-you'll-miss-him" roles. Like Chinn, he drifted into the adult film industry where he established some credentials as a director. He and Chinn teamed up that year in an attempt to make a mainstream movie about the porn film business. The result was "Blue Money", which has just been rescued from obscurity by Vinegar Syndrome, which has released the film as a special edition Blu-ray/DVD.

"Blue Money" suffers from the same limitations as Bob Chinn's other productions in that it was financed largely by people who expected to get a hardcore porn flick. Thus he was given a budget of $35,000, which was a pittance even in 1971, and a very abbreviated shooting schedule. Under Alain Patrick's direction, however, the movie went in a different direction and became a hybrid between the mainstream and porn film genres. Patrick gives a very credible performance as Jim, a 25 year-old surfer dude type who lives an unusual lifestyle. On the surface he leads an unremarkable existence: he has a pretty wife, Lisa (Barbara Mills) who is a stay-at-home mom who devotes her energies to raising their young daughter. Like most fathers, Jim is a dad who goes off to work every day...except that his "work" is directing pornographic feature films.  Shooting in a seedy makeshift studio, Jim and and his partner sell the finished product to shady distributors who pay them premium prices for master prints of their latest 16mm productions. Because Jim is considered one of the top talents in the industry, theaters are always hungry for his latest films. Ironically, although Jim's career is filming people having sex, he prides himself on remaining loyal to his wife and resists the occasional overtures of his female stars. Jim and Lisa have a joint dream: they are renovating a schooner-type yacht with the quest of quitting the adult film industry and sailing around the world as free spirits.  All of this is put at risk when Jim casts Ingrid (Inga Maria), an exotic European beauty who is desperate for money, in his latest production. Against his better judgment, Jim begins an affair with her- thus endangering his marriage after Lisa starts to become suspicious. At the same time the government is cracking down on the porn business. Suddenly, there is a dearth of distributors to take Jim's films. He is being paid far less than usual- and the entire industry is paranoid about the number of high profile arrests of performers, producers and directors in the porn business. Lisa begs Jim to quit but he wants to take his chances in the hopes of making enough money to finally finish the schooner's renovations and allow him to take his family on their-long planned journey.

"Blue Money" is an interesting production that never found acceptance by any audience. The film received some limited release in mainstream theaters but, although not quite hardcore, it is far too sexual for most general audiences. Conversely, people expecting to see a movie packed with gratuitous sex acts would also have been disappointed. Director Patrick has plenty of sex scenes and full frontal nudity but they are generally confined to the sequences in which we watch the actual filming of porn productions. In that respect, Patrick strips away any glamour or thrills from the process. Bored performers must enact explicit acts under hot klieg lights manned by total strangers. Jim must contend with moody actresses and actors who sometimes loath each other but who must engage in kinky sex. Every time Jim yells "Cut!", arguments can break out or the male leading man finds himself unable to perform on cue. Where the film excels is as a time capsule of sexual mores at the time of its production. There is much talk about the Nixon administration's Commission on Pornography report which had recently been released. Initiated by Nixon's predecessor, President Lyndon Johnson, the report came out during Nixon's first term in office. Nixon was confident that the report would legitimize his belief that pornography had a devastating effect on society- a talking point that would play well with his arch conservative base. Instead, the report basically said that there was no such evidence. Enraged, Nixon denounced the findings of his own commission and set about a crackdown on pornography. Countless man hours and millions of dollars were spent going after theater owners and people who made the films. In "Blue Money", when Jim is eventually arrested, the cops admit that the First Amendment would almost certainly ensure that he would win the court case- but the real strategy is to financially ruin those accused by having them spend their life savings on defending themselves. This gives the movie a hook that extends beyond the soap opera-like storyline centered on Jim's fragile relationship with his wife. The movie has a polished look to it and most of the performances are quite credible, with Patrick and Barbara Mills very good indeed.

BY FRED BLOSSER

“Son of Ali Baba,” a 1952 Arabian Nights programmer from Universal-International Pictures, is available in a Blu-ray edition from Kino Lorber Studio Classics. The 1080p MPEG-4 AVC encoded transfer displays the film’s beautiful Technicolor photography to impressive effect. In the story, the title character, Kashma (Tony Curtis), is enrolled as a cadet at the Imperial Military Academy in medieval Persia. Life at the academy combines the glamor of West Point, Animal House, and the 1970s Playboy Mansion. After a day of practicing cavalry maneuvers, the cadets retire to Kashma’s lavish villa to get drunk and fool around with beautiful girls. The Caliph’s son, Hussein, crashes the party without an invitation, gets into a fight with Kashma, and winds up in young Baba’s ornamental pool. He doesn’t take the humiliation lightly. Already on the outs with Kashma, he swears to get even. Hussein is played by Hugh O’Brian, who was cast as bad guys as often as good guys in this early stage of his career, before becoming TV’s Wyatt Earp. In the meantime, the equally malicious Caliph (Victor Jory) hates Ali Baba (Morris Ankrum) as vehemently as his son despises Kashma. Envying Ali Baba’s fortune, he schemes to discredit the venerable hero and seize his wealth for himself. The chance comes when a mysterious young woman (Piper Laurie) sneaks into Kashma’s villa and identifies herself as Kiki, a runaway slave girl. When that story comes into question, she admits that she’s actually a royal, Princess Azura of Fez. Either way, she claims to be a fugitive from the Caliph’s harem. Kashma helps her get away and takes her to Dad’s estate. “There is my father’s palace, and yonder lies the Valley of the Sun,” he says as they approach their destination, a line immortalized if widely misquoted as, “Yondah lies the castle of my fadduh, the king.”

Unknown to Kashma, the situation plays into the Caliph’s plans for a hostile takeover of Ali Baba’s riches. As the Caliph hatches a scheme that puts Ali and Kashma at odds with the all-powerful Shah of Persia, the lines of allegiance are drawn. On one side are the bad guys -- the Caliph, Hussein, and their private army; on the other are the good guys, who wouldn’t be out of place on a modern teen-oriented TV series like “Stargirl” or “Riverdale” -- Kashma, his best buddy Mustapha (William Reynolds), and his childhood friend Tala (Susan Cabot), an expert with the bow and arrow. Thanks to the need to fill out 75 minutes of running time, it isn’t clear which side Princess Azura is actually on. Once Tala appears, we’re led to wonder (although not too strenuously) which beauty will end up in Kashma’s arms, Azura or Tala.

At the high tide of the Hollywood studio system in the early 1950s, pictures like “Son of Ali Baba” were produced by the score with two goals in mind. One purpose was to provide moviegoers with an evening’s worth of light entertainment unlikely to tax anyone’s intellectual capacity. Names like Ali Baba, Sinbad, Monte Cristo, and Robin Hood on the theater marquee promised escape from worries about bills, mortgages, and the Bomb, at least for 90 minutes or so. The second goal was to showcase young actors like Tony Curtis whose fan clubs could be counted on to fill theater seats. Since Curtis was essentially hired help at U-I as a contract player, the studio stood to benefit as much as the actor, if not more so, by courting that segment of the population. And so at the outset, Gerald Drayson Adams’ script for “Son of Ali Baba” mostly serves up scenes in which the exuberant Curtis flirts with, charms, embraces, and kisses various young actresses in harem costumes. A slide show of publicity photos could have served the same purpose, at least for the actor’s most devoted female fans of the high-school persuasion (and maybe, in closeted Eisenhower-era small towns, not a few male ticket-buyers as well).

Once the plot picks up momentum about half an hour in, “Son of Ali Baba” becomes a pleasant enough Arabian Nights adventure. As Hussein and his gang burn down Ali Baba’s country estate and haul him off to the Caliph’s dungeon, Kashma evolves from a carefree, privileged playboy to inspirational avenger. If that strikes you as a corny conceit that wouldn’t fly with today’s jaded audiences, you must not have seen any of Robert Downey Jr.’s Iron Man movies over the past decade. At this juncture, too, director Kurt Neumann begins to show some interest in his dramatis personae, particularly when Tala enters the story. Neumann (1908-58), a German emigre mostly relegated to B-movies in Hollywood, seemed fascinated by disruptive, unpredictable, and often doomed characters. Since her heart is in the right place, Susan Cabot’s steely Tala isn’t quite as unsettling as Neumann’s crowning example of the type, Mari Blanchard’s ruthless Kyra Zelas in “She Devil” (1957), but she gives the story a welcome edge anyway when she shows up. The picture’s most visceral scenes of violence result from Tala’s archery and not Kashma’s sword fights. Even Kashma’s airheaded groupies Calu (Alice Kelley) and Theda (Barbara Knudson) -- inseparable from the other eye candy in the early scenes -- come to life with some amusing business toward the end. Despondent because all the cadets have been confined to barracks during Kashma’s uprising against the Caliph, they’re overjoyed when the troop is released to help the hero. Hurrying over to the academy, they try to catch the cadets‘ attention as the guys rush past with more pressing business at hand. “Boys, boys, here we are!” they call hopefully, like contestants today on “Love Island” and “The Bachelor.” Even kids of the Tik Tok generation are likely to experience an amused shock of recognition, whatever their interest in the Arabian Nights or lack thereof.

Special features on the Kino Lorber Blu-ray include the original theatrical trailer (“Not even Aladdin’s Lamp could deliver entertainment as spectacular as . . . ‘SON OF ALI BABA’!”) and perceptive audio commentary by Lee Gambin that points up, among other observations, the sleek studio production values that unsympathetic critics usually overlook in unassuming pictures like “Son of Ali Baba.”

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Dame Diana Rigg, one of Britain's most esteemed actresses, has died from cancer at age 82. In the course of her career, Rigg conquered the mediums of stage, screen and television. She studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London and received praise for her work in classic theater. Perhaps improbably, she became a pop culture icon when she replaced Honor Blackman on the iconic British TV series "The Avengers" in the 1960s. When Blackman left the show to star as Pussy Galore in the 1964 James Bond film "Goldfinger", Rigg introduced the character of Emma Peel, playing opposite Patrick Macnee's John Steed. She became the most notable early female action star on television, practicing martial arts and often attired in provocative leather outfits. In 1969, Rigg followed in Honor Blackman's footsteps by appearing as the female lead in a James Bond film, "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" opposite George Lazenby's 007. The film, considered one of the best of the series, cast Rigg as a countess who marries James Bond, only to be murdered on their wedding day. The movie was notable for its realistic and downbeat ending. Rigg's other feature films include "The Hospital", "The Great Muppet Caper", "Evil Under the Sun" and "Theatre of Blood", a comedic horror film in which she and Vincent Price were memorably co-starred. She thrived on television over the decades, gaining numerous Emmy and BAFTA nominations and winning an Emmy in 1997 for her performance as the evil Mrs. Danvers in "Rebecca". She also won acclaim for her role in the TV production of "Mother Love" opposite David McCallum in 1989. Rigg found late career success on television with an Emmy-nominated role in "Game of Thrones". In theater, she often concentrated on the classics, packing houses on Broadway and the West End. She won a Tony Award in 1994 for her starring role in "Medea".

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BY FRED BLOSSER

Kino Lorber Studio Classics has released “Mary, Queen of Scots” (1971) in a new Blu-ray edition. A Hal B. Wallis production starring Vanessa Redgrave in the title role and Glenda Jackson as Queen Elizabeth I, the picture opened on a limited basis in Los Angeles on December 22, 1971, in order to qualify for the 1972 Academy Awards. General release in the U.S. followed on February 2, 1972. The filmmakers’ hopes were high, since a previous Wallis production about the 16th Century British monarchy, “Anne of the Thousand Days,” had been a critical and commercial success two years earlier, with the same screenwriter (John Hale) and director (Charles Jarrott). As if more cred were needed, a weighty biography by Antonia Fraser, “Mary Queen of Scots” (no comma), had been a best-seller in 1969. Since Mary was a historical figure in the public domain, the filmmakers could capitalize on the popularity of Lady Antonia’s book without having to pay for screen rights. Perhaps adding a comma in the movie’s title was a further safeguard. Despite this promising run-up, “Mary, Queen of Scots” didn’t quite meet expectations. Reviews were lukewarm, and the picture had the unfortunate timing to open nationally while a number of highly publicized hits released during the Christmas-New Year’s week were still selling tickets in theaters. Apparently, younger moviegoers preferred the ultra-violence of “A Clockwork Orange,” “Dirty Harry,” and “Straw Dogs” to Wallis’ historical pageantry, and the return of Sean Connery as James Bond in “Diamonds Are Forever” to the teaming of Redgrave and Jackson in prominent starring roles as Royals Behaving Badly. Older fans of big-budget epics had already been served by Franklin J. Schaffner’s “Nicholas and Alexandra,” which had gotten an early start in December. In England, Jackson had already played Elizabeth in “Elizabeth R,” a six-part series that garnered critical acclaim on the BBC in 1971. The series debuted Stateside on PBS‘ “Masterpiece Theater” on February 13, 1972. If you could see Jackson for free on TV, why pay $4 for a date night at the cinema?

John Hale’s screenplay compresses and simplifies Mary’s ill-fated life without violating historical accuracy too seriously. Some political intricacies necessarily remained, but they shouldn’t bother today’s viewers who enjoyed sorting out all the make-believe queens and dukes with fey names in “Game of Thrones.” It opens in 1560, as a pretty but foreboding tune, “Vivre et Mourir” (“To Live and to Die”), plays over the credits. (Redgrave herself sang the French lyrics in a fine, haunting alto.) Mary -- the queen of Scotland by birth, and moreover a potential claimant to the English throne as the niece of Henry VIII -- enjoys wedded bliss with her husband, King Francis II of France. Then Francis dies, and his mother exiles the childless Mary to clear the throne for Francis’ brother. Mary returns to the land of her birth, prepared to assume her duties there on the Scottish throne, but her decision threatens two powerful rivals. Her cousin Queen Elizabeth I, a Protestant, fears that Mary, a Catholic, will become a rallying point next door for England’s rebellious Catholic subjects. In Scotland, Mary’s brother James Stuart (Patrick McGoohan in great, icy form) schemes with his fellow Protestant nobles to neutralize Mary, relegating her to figurehead status as he becomes the actual hand on the strings. Both of her enemies are dangerous, Elizabeth perhaps more so as the more subtly devious of the two.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

It may be hard to believe in our era of sweeping worldwide populist movements, but there was a time when movie-goers adored fairy tale-like comedies centered on the impossibly rich. The genre made it possible for an entire generation of British actors and actresses to shine and few had shone so brightly as Rex Harrison, who was seemingly born with a crystal wine goblet in his hand. Harrison and his wife at the time, acclaimed comedy star Kay Kendall, top-line director Vincente Minnelli's 1958 film adaption of playwright William Douglas Home's hit Broadway farce "The Reluctant Debutante", retaining Home's services to write the screenplay. The film is veddy, veddy British in tone and style to the extent that non-Brits may find some of the dialogue, delivered with machine gun rapidity, hard to decipher. Ironically, this most British of stories was shot in Paris due to Harrison's status at the time as a tax exile. Reviewing the film in the New York Times, A.H. Weiler described it as "thin and boneless but nonetheless giddy and diverting." That description remains apt, though the movie is dated in style and content.

Harrison and Kendall play Jim and Sheila Broadbent, better known as Lord and Lady Broadbent, who are nervously awaiting the arrival from America of 17 year-old Jane (Sandra Dee), Jim's daughter from a previous marriage, who is making her first trip to London to meet her new stepmother. Jane has been invited by Sheila to arrive in "The Season", a term used by the lifted pinky crowd to describe the time of year when young women are formally introduced to society through an elaborate Cinderella-like ball that each family must hold. Jane, whose American background and upbringing is at odds with such pretentious spectacles, is a reluctant participant but she gets on with Sheila so well that she goes through the motions of being enthused about fitting in with the snobs who are now surrounding her. Sheila wants to match her with David Fenner (an amusing Peter Myers), who holds a revered position as a member of the Queen's Horse Guards. The fact that he's an obnoxious lecher doesn't matter because he's well-connected. However, Jane rebuffs his crude advances and finds herself falling for another American, David Parkson (John Saxon), who is a humble drummer in an orchestra that performs at some of the balls. Sheila is appalled that she has eyes for a commoner but her father is more accepting, as he finds he likes the young man's unpretentious nature. In such fables, there's little doubt who Jane will end up with, but there are some amusing moments as the film gravitates towards the inevitable.

Director Minnelli has kept true to the production's origins as a play, eschewing any exteriors except for some brief second unit footage over the opening credits. This strategy tends to wear thin, however, as it becomes a bit monotonous watching the same characters saunter through the same rooms, opening bottles of wine and champagne, surreptitiously snooping on young lovers or bickering about love and marriage. The saving grace is the fine cast with Harrison and Kendall in top form, the former always cool and collected and the latter in a constant state of panic. (Tragically, Kendall would pass away the following year from cancer.) Angela Lansbury pops up briefly in an amusing role as a nosy, intrusive matchmaker. In films of this type, everyone seems older on screen than they were  in real life, partly because of the styles and social customs of the era. Kay Kendall was only 32 at the time of filming and Sandra Dee, astonishingly, was going on 15 years-old. Although the movie was probably a bit edgy for a comedy in 1958 because of its watered-down references to premarital sex, it's rather disturbing to realize that a young woman's character was primarily defined by her ability to remain a virgin while young men were given free rein to "play the field".

The movie isn't quite a top notch comedy but it's consistently pleasurable enough to merit viewing, even if the protagonists engage in the kind of elitist behavior that inspired the peasants to storm the Bastille. The Warner Archive region-free Blu-ray looks terrific and does justice to the opulent production values that are presented during the grand ball scenes. The original trailer is also included.

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