No one has ever clamored for a remake of director Howard Hawks' "Red River". The 1948 film is routinely considered to be one of the great American westerns, although Hawks was never completely satisfied with the end result. Between changes he made to the film and some changes imposed by the studio, the result was that film scholars are still debating which version should be considered as the final cut. However, the film's impact is indisputable. It afforded John Wayne the best role of his career up to that time and elevated up-and-coming Montgomery Clift to major stardom. I must admit that I was surprised to learn of a 1988 television remake of the film when I saw it is now streaming on ScreenPix, an optional subscription channel, which is available for a nominal monthly fee to Amazon Prime subscribers. It would take a big man to step into Duke Wayne's shoes but James Arness filled the bill. In fact, Wayne was a mentor to Arness and made several films with him before he convinced the young actor to accept CBS's offer to star as Marshall Matt Dillon in the TV series "Gunsmoke", an adaptation of the popular radio program. Arness plays Thomas Dunson, who was on a wagon train to Texas along his fiancee. Dunson and his sidekick Groot (Ray Walston in a role originally played by Walter Brennan), leave the wagon train to scout for appropriate land to settle on. While they are away, the wagon train is attacked by Indians. The begins with Dunson and Groot discovering that all of the pioneers have been killed except for a young boy, Matt Garth (Mickey Kuhn), who Dunson unofficially adopts as a son. The gesture proves to be mutually beneficial, as it helps both grief-stricken people cope with their losses. Ultimately, the headstrong Dunson finds the perfect land to claim for his own and it stretches as far as the eye can see. The film then jumps ahead a number of years. Dunson's spread, known as the Red River D, has been a major success and he is getting ready to move his enormous herd to Sedalia, Missouri to sell the steers for a considerable profit. He is heartened by the return of Matt (now played by Bruce Boxleitner), who has been away fighting with Southern forces in the Civil War. With Matt and Groot as his trusted right-hand men, Dunson assembles a major company of experienced drovers for the perilous journey that lies ahead.
As with Hawks' version of "Red River", the TV production chronicles the increased hardships the cattlemen endure and the slow breakdown in morale as food supplies become skimpy and the dangers increase from inclement weather and the threat of hostile Indians. Dunson rules the company with an iron fist and tells the men that he is financially broke, as he's put all of his money into the cattle drive. He reminds them that the only way they will get paid is if they get the herd to Sedalia, where it can be sold. Some cowhands encounter the drovers and say there is a rumor that the rail line has now reach Abilene, Kansas. If true, it will make for a lucrative market to sell the cattle in order to feed the booming population. It's also a shorter and safer journey for the drovers to make. However, Dunson will have not risk changing direction on the basis of an unfounded rumor. Ultimately, some men choose to leave the drive. However, when a couple of drovers also steal some precious food before absconding, Dunson has them hunted down and captured. Enraged, he tells them he will lynch them. When Matt can't convince him that he is going to far, a major rift occurs and Matt informs Dunson that he is taking control of the herd and gambling on taking the cattle to Abilene. Dunson refuses to go along and promises to hunt Matt down and personally kill him, despite the fact that Matt intends to turn any proceeds over to his adoptive father.
The story continues to follow events in the film, albeit in truncated fashion since the film runs 96 minutes compared to the 133 minutes of the original version. Matt and flashy gunslinger Cherry Valance (Gregory Harrison) encounter a wagon train besieged by Indians. They ultimately rescue the survivors which include Kate Millay (Laura Johnson), a Civil War widow with a young son. Both Matt and Cherry are smitten by her, which introduces an element of sexual tension as both men become antagonistic towards each other in increasingly dangerous ways. Ultimately, Matt gets the herd to Abilene and finds that the rumors were true. The town is booming and anxious to buy the herd for top dollar. Matt's joy is short-lived, however, as Dunson arrives with his personal posse of hired gunmen- and he's intent on keeping his vow to kill Matt.
There is nothing in the TV version of "Red River" that improves on Hawks's original in any meaningful way. However, it does offer some fine performances. It's interesting to see Arness, who gives a commanding performance, finally play a character whose judgment is flawed and whose actions border on the reckless. He has good chemistry with Bruce Boxleitner, possibly because the two were old friends who had co-starred in Arness's post-"Gunsmoke" TV series "How the West Was Won". Gregory Harrison has a meatier role as Cherry Valance than John Ireland did in the original version, possibly because Harrison was an executive producer on this production. He provides ample doses of both charm and reckless behavior. There are plenty of familiar Western stars who make brief appearances including Ty Hardin, Robert Horton, L.Q. Jones and Guy Madison, in his final screen appearance. The script has been updated with some new characters added, most notably Stan Shaw, very good as Jack Byrd, an ex-slave who must endure bigotry before winning the respect of the drovers with his skills. The film is crisply directed by Richard Michaels, who keeps the balance between action and personal dramas well-balanced.
I viewed the film with the expectation that it would be simply a pale imitation of the 1948 classic. However, while the original reigns supreme, I'm happy to say that if the TV version is viewed as a stand-alone production, it's actually surprisingly good.
I can find no record of this film having been released on home video aside from an early VHS version, so the Screenpix option is the best way to view it.
as an Iconic Warrior King and a Suspenseful WWII Epic with Peter O’Toole
On January 30th, Conan The Barbarian,the award-winning epic starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, arrives on 4K UHD and Blu-ray for the first time. John Milius directs Academy Award-winning writer Oliver Stone’s
adaptation of the pulp novels by Robert E. Howard to the big screen. A
global phenomenon ruling the box office upon its initial release in
1982, the fantasy forged Schwarzenegger’s status as a true cinematic
icon. Schwarzenegger stars as Conan – enslaved as a young boy after cult leader Thulsa Doom (James Earl Jones)
murders his parents. Conan pushes himself from slave to gladiator to
freed warrior in search of Thulsa Doom to exact his vengeance. Along the
way Conan learns of love, friendship, wisdom, and loyalty. The film
features electrifying star performances by Schwarzenegger and Jones, and
an impressive supporting cast, including Max von Sydow, Sandahl Bergman, Gerry Lopez, and Mako.
The
Limited Edition 4K UHD comes in a 2-Disc set, loaded with extras,
including new interviews with cast and crew, rarely seen footage and
archival materials. The Blu-ray and 4K UHD Limited Edition sets each
include a double-sided fold-out poster, six double-sided collectors’
postcards, an illustrated collectors’ booklet featuring new writing by
Walter Chaw and John Walsh, and an archive set report by Paul M. Sammon.
Also on the same day, Conan The Destroyer makes its debut on 4K UHD and Blu-ray. The sequel to the wildly successful Conan The Barbarian, Arnold Schwarzenegger returns as Robert E. Howard’s sword-wielding anti-hero. Conan is offered the opportunity to take a young princess (Olivia D’Abo)
on a quest to retrieve the jeweled horn of the dreaming god Dagoth. In
return, the love of his life Valeria will be brought back to life,
though Conan and his fellowship get more than they bargained for as
Dagoth may not be the benevolent demi-god they expected. Directed by Richard Fleischer, Conan The Destroyer features an international cast that includes supermodel/icon Grace Jones, Olivia D'Abo, NBA Hall of Famer Wilt Chamberlain, Tracey Walter, and Sarah Douglas.
The
Blu-ray and 4K UHD Limited Edition sets include a double-sided fold-out
poster, six double-sided collectors’ postcards, an illustrated
collectors’ booklet featuring new writing by Walter Chaw and John Walsh,
and an archive set report by Paul M. Sammon.Bonus
features include a brand new 4K restoration from the original negative,
4K Ultra HD Blu-ray (2160p) presentation in Dolby Vision (HDR10
compatible), newly restored original mono audio and remixed Dolby Atmos
surround audio, archive feature commentary by director Richard
Fleischer, actors Olivia d’Abo, Tracey Walter and Sarah Douglas, newly
filmed interviews and commentary with cast and crew, theatrical
trailers, and an image gallery.
The month ends with a bang in Murphy’s War, coming to Blu-ray on January 30. Peter O’Toole
stars as Murphy, the sole survivor of a German U-boat attack off the
coast of Venezuela at the end of WWII. Nursed back to health by a Quaker
nurse (Siân Phillips),
Murphy has one goal: to destroy the U-boat that killed his mates.
Nothing will stop Murphy from exacting vengeance. Featured co-stars of
O’Toole include Philippe Noiret (La Grande Bouffe, Cinema Paradiso), and Horst Janson (Captain Kronos – Vampire Hunter, Shout at the Devil),. The film is directed by Peter Yates (Bullitt) and beautifully shot by Indiana Jones cinematographer Douglas Slocombe, with a propulsive score from John Barry.Special features across the release include Running Out of War, a new visual essay by film critic David Cairns, A Great Adventure, an archive interview with assistant director John Glen, Dougie, Chic and Me, an archive interview with focus puller Robin Vidgeon, One Man Army,
an archive interview with film critic Sheldon Hall, the theatrical
trailer, an image gallery, a reversible sleeve featuring original and
newly commissioned artwork by Peter Strain, and an illustrated
collector’s booklet featuring new writing by film critic Philip Kemp.
Australian video label Imprint has released a Blu-ray boxed set dedicated to the films of Sidney Lumet. The movies included are:
Serpico
The Group
The Pawnbroker
The Deadly Affair
The Offence
Child's Play
The set includes hours of bonus features and a new documentary about Lumet's early career achievements. Cinema Retro's Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer is joined by fellow film historians Paul Scrabo and Tony Latino for the commentary track on "The Offence", which stars Sean Connery in what many believe is his best performance.
The discs are all region-free. The set is a limited edition. Click here to order.
Prices are in Australian dollars. If you reside outside of Australia, use a currency converter to calculate the price in your currency.
As a monster-movie loving kid growing up in the shadow of
Manhattan, most of my Saturday night plans in the late 1960s and early 1970s
were solidly set.That night was
reserved for watching old horror and sci-fi flicks on New York City’s Chiller (WPIX-TV) or Creature Features (WNEW-TV).I don’t recall the latter program surviving
past 1980 – and even then there had been an interruption of some six years in
the scheduling of Creature Features.Though the program would return to the
airwaves in 1979, the 8 PM broadcasts were now a thing of the past.The revived telecasts had moved to midnight
and well into the early hours of Sunday morning.It hardly mattered, really.I no longer watched Creature Features with the same fervor of 1969 through 1973.I was age nineteen in 1979 and found other
(if not necessarily better) things to
do on Saturday nights.
This absence from Creature
Features caused me to miss out on a number of obscure, aging films
broadcast 1979-1980.Among this mix of occasional
cinematic gems with near-misses was a mostly forgotten mystery programmer of
1944 titled The Man in Half Moon Street.I was particularly sorry to have missed this
one: if my research is correct, I believe the film was broadcast only once – just
shy of 2 A.M. - on March 29, 1980.Though one New York area newspaper listing dismissed the film as little
more than a “Moody and marginally interesting tale of eternal youth through
murder,” such lukewarm praise actually piqued my interest.This seemed my kind of movie.And for
some forty-three years I’ve lamented having missing that broadcast.
It has been a tough film to get ahold of: though I’m
guessing gray-market copies could have been found at conventions or through those
“specialty” dealers of vintage VHS tapes from the ‘80s onward.But as far as I can tell (and, please, feel
free correct me if you know better), The
Man in Half Moon Street has never been officially
available on any home video format: not Laser Disc, VHS, DVD or Blu Ray.Well, that is until now, as we near the
eightieth year of the film’s original cinematic release.We have Australia’s Imprint Films to thank
for finally issuing this superlative, region-free coded Blu-ray release.
As in the case of many Hollywood pictures of the day, The Man in Half Moon Street was not an
original invention of the filmmakers: the scenario was actually based on the British
stage drama of playwright Barré Lyndon.Lyndon’s play, published in 1939 by London’s Hamish Hamilton Publishing
House, had first toured Bournemouth, Oxford, Manchester and Brighton on a
two-week testing-sortie in February of ’39.The play would formally open at the New Theatre in London’s West End on
22 March 1939.
Lyndon’s main antagonist in the stage drama, chemist John Thackeray (Leslie Banks), is a ninety-year
old man.One wouldn’t notice the dotage
as Thackeray appears decades younger.This
is due to the chemist having discovered that by combining radium and periodically replacing his aging
super-renal glands with fresh specimens he can retain both youth and
immortality.Of course the collection of
fresh glands requires innocent others to lose their lives to Thackeray’s ghoulish
harvesting.
Over a fifty-year period eight bank cashiers – those with
access to large sums of money - have fallen prey to Thackeray’s criminal doings.Dissolving their bodies in acid baths, the
chemist then steals the cash reserves his victims had been minding in their
bank-telling guardianship.Thackeray
requires the large sums so he can pay a confidant: in this case an
ethically-challenged surgeon friend, to perform the necessary life-sustaining
gland grafts.But Scotland Yard takes up
the case just as the chemist readies to take the life of a targeted ninth
victim for his evil ends.
Interestingly, playwright Lyndon would go on to write
screenplays for Hollywood studios by the mid-1940s, including such moody
mystery-noirs as John Brahm’s The Lodger
(1944) and Hangover Square
(1945).But in late January of 1940, it
was announced that Don Hartman, a dependable scenarist for Paramount, was
scheduled to begin work on adapting Lyndon’s stage play to the big screen.Hartman was, at present, in New York, trying
to finish up his co-write (with Clifford Goldsmith) of The Further Adventures of Henry Aldrich.
That May of 1940, Paramount optimistically announced
there would be no production delays on their twenty-five million dollar film
schedule budget for the upcoming year.This declaration was made “despite war conditions in Europe which
continue to threaten returns” in both national and international film markets.One of the films on the Paramount schedule
was The Man inHalf Moon Street. Early reports suggested that Basil Rathbone was
to take on the leading role. The actor was available to assume the role of
Thackeray as he had only recently completed work on Paramount’s A Date with Destiny (soon retitled The Mad Doctor).
Rathbone had played the villainous role in The Mad Doctor which, despite the intriguing
title, was not a horror film, but a mystery crime-drama.The Los
Angeles Citizen-News would report in June of 1940 that while Half Moon too was not of “bogeyman
classification,” it on the “fantastic side” with its lurid sci-fi angle.In any case, the film project fell
temporarily to the wayside, first due to scripting issues and afterward to the
cranking out of patriotic films necessitated by America’s entry into WWII
following the attack at Pearl Harbor.
But by early winter of 1943, the long dormant Half Moon project was showing signs of
revival.On March 2, 1943 it was
announced in the Hollywood trades that Lester Fuller, recently arrived in Los
Angeles from New York, had been offered the director’s chair for The Man in Half Moon Street.In spring of 1943, Albert Dekker, a Hollywood
“heavie” who recently scared audiences as Universal’s Dr. Cyclops (1940), was announced to assume the leading role.
But on June 15, 1943, Variety
reported that Fuller was out of the Half
Moon project. Ralph Murphy was now chosen to direct.Technically, the pair’s previously assigned directorial
spots were merely traded-off.Murphy had
initially been chosen to helm Paramount’s production of Marseilles, but former stage director Fuller was now tasked to
assume responsibility on that particular film. Murphy was to move over to
direct Fuller’s Half Moon project.
Murphy’s first assignment was a formidable one:he was “to order a complete rewrite job on
the script.”There was also a report
that such rewriting would likely require a recasting of principal characters.Though Swedish film star Nils Asther had been
the latest actor announced to assume the film’s leading role, his participation
in the project was now suggested as being “off” - for the time being, at
least.The film’s producer Walter
MacEwan wanted to weigh casting options “until further developments” in the
scripting of Half Moon were resolved.
The re-writing of Half
Moon would eventually fall to scenarists Charles Kenyon and Garrett Fort. The final screenplay credit would ultimately go
to Kenyon alone who, like Fort, was a veteran of old Hollywood: their work in
the industry could be traced to silent cinema’s earliest days.Fort’s resume for this sort of film was
particularly impressive: he had written or co-written such totemic pre-code
Golden Age Horrors for Universal as Dracula
(1931), Frankenstein (1931) and Dracula’s Daughter (1936). But Fort’s credit on Half Moon only noted his role in adapting Lyndon’s play for the
screen.
The final screenplay drafted would, peculiarly, expunge
most of the ghoulish and murderous elements of Lyndon’s stage play – perhaps
America’s real-life wartime experiences were horrific enough.There are no murders of bankers.The Thackeray character (renamed Dr. Julian
Karell in the film) appears to be already a man of means, an accomplished
portrait artist and scientist.He
attends black-tie, high society, posh parties and conducts his experiments at
an upscale London row house.The film curiously
offers no scenes of on (or off) screen physical violence.
There are no gruesome acid baths in which the bodies of
victims are disposed. The film’s lone “action” scene captures a moment when
Karell “rescues” a despondent medical student (Morton Lowry) from a watery suicide
attempt near the Thames Embankment.Most
scenes of this dialogue-heavy script are set in parlors and sitting rooms –
which, to be honest, really proves a drag on the film’s ninety-two minute running
time.One begins to welcome even the
briefest scenes when Karell ventures out into the shrouded night and pea-soup fog
of the London Streets.Not that much
happens during these interludes, but such moments provide a measure of
moodiness to this otherwise slowly paced non-mystery.
Truth be told, The
Man in Half Moon Street is no detective nor mystery film; we know almost
from the beginning what’s going on.We
learn the handsome and youthful Karell is actually more than one hundred years
old in age.But through a century of
experimentation – and with the assistance of the aging Dr. Kurt Van Bruecken, the
“world’s greatest living surgeon and necrologist” (Reinhold Schünzel), Karell has
managed to stay young through his drinking of a luminous serum and periodically
undergoing fresh glandular transplants at ten year intervals.
There are problems ahead.Following a stroke, the shaky hands of the elderly Van Bruecken are no longer
trustworthy to perform the necessary surgeries.Besides, Van Bruecken has undergone a change of heart: he fears that
Karell is no longer working in the interest of science and humanity in staving off
the aging process.He fears (rightfully)
Karell is now consumed only by his burning desire for the lovely Eve Brandon (Helen
Walker) and selfish self-interest in maintaining a “fraudulent youth.”
“No man can break the law of God,” Van Bruecken cautions,
but Karell is confident if anyone can do it, he can.Even if that means farming the glands of the
suicidal medical student he’s imprisoned upstairs.The other more pressing problem facing Karell
is that his mysterious activities have finally brought him to the attention of
an ethical surgeon (Paul Cavanagh), a cabal of fine art appraisers and Scotland
Yard.
With Paramount now holding what they believed an
acceptable – and mostly non-horrific - script in place, the casting of the film
proceeded in earnest. In May of 1943 it was suggested that young actress Susan
Hayward would play a “featured role” in Half
Moon, though the report cautioned Paramount was still “having a time of it
procuring someone to play the sinister male lead.”The earlier front-running names of Rathbone
and Dekker were both out, and rumors of Alan Ladd’s casting were squelched when
the actor chose instead to sign up for military service.
That same month producer MacEwan confirmed Nils Asther would in fact play the role of Dr.
Julian Karell as earlier rumored.The
trades suggested that it was Asther who, in fact, first suggested that Paramount
pick up the rights to Lyndon’s play and cast him in the lead role.There was some mild press controversy regarding
Asther’s casting.Some Hollywood gossips
dismissed the actor as “Yesterday’s Star” (born in 1897, Asther had appeared in
silent films with Greta Garbo).Though
his character was scripted as someone thirty-five years of age, Asther was in
reality 46 years old at the time of production.Still, there was an acknowledgement that the dashingly tall, slender, handsome
(and rumored bi-sexual) actor “still has a big following.”
Though the actor was to star opposite the sultry Hayward,
the role of Karell’s paramour Eve Brandon was ultimately given to Helen Walker.There would be some delay before she could
join the production: the actress, currently on a wartime U.S.O. tour, was expected
to report to the set near September’s end.Truthfully, Walker doesn’t have a lot to do in the film.She certainly photographs well as Karell’s
doting and perhaps too protective and
morally-blind girlfriend.Even though Karell’s
work is secretive – so much so that it causes him to disappear for weeks or
months at a time – Eve chooses to accept her lover’s “general mysteriousness”
as a byproduct of his genius.I
personally found Brandon less likable and sympathetic as the film progresses.
When it’s finally revealed to her that Karell’s experimentations have brought
harm to innocents, she’s so in love with him she dismisses his guilt, choosing
instead to reflexively defend the “grandeur” of his ambitions.
If the main characters in this picture aren’t always
likable, there’s still a lot to admire about the film.Miklos Rozsa’s moody musical score is
certainly worthy of praise.Henry
Sharp’s fog-bound “exterior” photography is similarly moody, but unfortunately not
up on the screen much.In the final
minutes of the film when Karell dramatically reverts to his actual age,
long-time make-up man Wally Westmore – of Hollywood’s make-up family dynasty –
does his best on the effects.But the
camera cheats the audience of a full on-screen transformation ala Westmore’s
make-up on Rouben Mamoulian’s Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde (1931) – which remains the “gold standard” of Golden Age
horror transformations.Ralph Murphy’s
direction is competent but workmanlike in execution.He creates very little visual tension until
the film’s final scenes and, by then, it’s simply too late.Following the completion of Half Moon, Murphy was planning to move
back to New York City to direct the Broadway stage production of Sleep It Off.
Of course World War II was still on-going, interrupting,
ruining and/or ending the lives of countless innocents globally.In such an atmosphere Hollywood was not immune
to war-time production delays and release date restrictions.Paramount alone had accumulated an
unprecedented backlog of thirty-one completed films awaiting release in early
summer of 1944.There was some confidence
that the tide was turning in favor of the Allies, studios cooperating in the
war effort by rolling out whatever patriotic war films they were sitting on.There was a consensus it was time to empty
the vault of such films.It was believed
that movie audiences would weary of war films following the cessation of
fighting overseas.
There was, at long last, a belated screening of The Man in Half Moon Street held at a
Hollywood tradeshow on October 16, 1944.Variety thought the script was
a “compact and interesting,” the Kenyon/Fort scenario displaying a “few new
twists from the formularized style of long-life mystery tales to keep interest
at consistent level.” But the reviewer acknowledged, not unreasonably, that the
film would best serve as “strong support” to a superior attraction.Other critics likewise suggested Half Moon was too weak to see
top-billing on a double-attraction.
Indeed, The Man in
Half Moon Street (already in U.S. regional release as early as December
1944 although the film’s copyright is listed as 1945 on the sleeve of the snap
case) was featured as the undercard of a double-bill. (On his commentary, Tim
Lucas reveals the film actually had its world-wide premiere in Australia in
early November of 1944).On its U.S.
run, the film was usually topped by director Fritz Lang’s cinematic take of
novelist Graham Greene’s Nazi espionage tale Ministry of Fear.This double
feature actually did reasonably well, the trades citing solid - if not necessarily
boffo - returns as the package was rolled out across U.S. markets and into 1945.Newspaper columnists tended to give the Lang
film the lion’s share of its critical attention, though both films were generally
branded as little more than decent programmers of primary interest only to devotees
of suspense and mystery films.
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 23rd.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?
Tom Smothers of the famed comedy duo The Smothers Brothers, has passed away at 86. Early reports indicate he was suffering from cancer. Along with his younger brother Dick, he became an icon of American comedy in the 1960s. The duo started off spoofing the blossoming folk music scene and incorporating it into their standup act, which quickly drew packed houses. In 1967, the brothers were signed by CBS for their own Sunday night show "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour". Despite their physical appearance as short-haired, squeaky clean squares, the brothers used the clout of their successful show to emphasize political humor. It made for "must-see" TV in an era defined by the protest movements over racial injustice and the Vietnam War. CBS began to get anxious when conservative viewers complained that the political humor was going to far. Although Tom Smothers was a self-defined liberal, the brothers satirized both Republicans and Democrats. As with any incumbent President, Lyndon. B. Johnson was often the prime target, as the brothers vehemently opposed his Vietnam War policies. In one instance, the President himself called CBS to complain about how he was being portrayed. In 1967, CBS deleted a performance by Pete Seeger of his thinly-veiled anti-Vietnam War song, "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy". Tom Smothers and his brother were not intimidated and continued the barbed humor when Richard Nixon was inaugurated as President in January, 1969. The brothers showcased impersonator David Frye, whose satirical portrayal of Nixon was as amusing as it was controversial, even though Frye had also satirized President Johnson in an equally barbed manner. By then, CBS had enough of the controversy and canceled the show that April. Officially, the reason was over a dispute about a preview tape of the next show that the network said Tom had not delivered, an accusation he always denied. The brothers sued the network and won the case. Although they were awarded sizeable damages, the show could not be revived.
As with Ed Sullivan, whose variety show also aired on CBS on Sunday nights, the brothers used their image as squares for comedic effect. But, also like Sullivan, they proved to be the hippest guys around when it came to showcasing emerging talents in the rock and soul music world. It was an era in which teenagers would actually stay home to watch variety shows if it gave them a chance to see their favorite groups perform. The brothers also had a talent for finding other young talent. Their staff of writers included newcomers Steve Martin, Rob Reiner and Mason Williams, whose instrumental song "Classical Gas" would become a late-1960s hit. Even Carl Gottlieb, who went on to write the screenplay for "Jaws", started as a writer on the show. They also showcased promising comedy acts such as George Carlin and Pat Paulsen, whose quixotic tongue-in-cheek run for President in the 1968 election made him a pop culture phenomenon at the time.
For more, click here. For in-depth coverage of Smothers' life and career, click here for Washington Post coverage. (May require subscription.)
(UK: Faber & Faber; ISBN: 978-0571370368; January
2024)
(US:
Pegasus Books; ISBN: 978-1639366248; February 2024)
“ANATOMY
OF AN ARTIST”
By
Raymond Benson
Several
biographies of filmmaker Stanley Kubrick have been published, as well as numerous
books on the director’s filmography, works on specific movies, and pieces of ephemeral
studies. It is said that more has been written about Stanley Kubrick than any
other important cinema artist except for Alfred Hitchcock.
Now
comes the hefty, superb tome by Robert P. Kolker and Nathan Abrams, Kubrick:
An Odyssey. As someone who has been a Kubrick aficionado since the late
1960s, having read nearly all the existing titles about him, been to his estate
in England, visited his archives at London’s University of Arts, and currently know
members of his family, I can confidently say that Kubrick: An Odyssey is
the most outstanding biographical work on this enigmatic and challenging
filmmaker to date.
Previous
biographies, while admirable, suffered from the lack of enough material, due to
inaccessibility, about Kubrick’s personal life. Granted, Stanley Kubrick was an
extremely private individual and he guarded his privacy as if it were a fortress.
Most of the books out there are simply examinations and analyses of Kubrick’s
films (and many are excellent). The closest we got to an intimately personal
look at Stanley Kubrick was the 2012 memoir by his trusted driver and
assistant, Emilio D’Alessandro (co-written with Filippo Ulivieri), Stanley
Kubrick and Me.
The
new book by Kolker and Abrams changes that. With access to Kubrick’s archives
and to family members, the authors have penetrated the mountains of
correspondence and the treasure troves of boxes that Kubrick left behind after
his sudden passing in March 1999, four-and-a-half months before the premiere of
his final feature, Eyes Wide Shut.
It’s
a big book, one that covers every aspect of Kubrick’s life from childhood to death.
Thankfully, it is not written in an academic style; Kubrick: An Odyssey is
immensely readable, it moves through the years with surprising details that
many fans have never seen before. Want to know more about Kubrick’s first two
marriages or who he dated in-between them? You can find out here! Additionally,
the authors do not fawn over their subject; they are not afraid to uncover the
warts, such as his curious battles with co-screenwriters over ownership. And
yet, overall, Stanley Kubrick comes off as a human being who was devoted to his
family, his home, and above all else, his work. This biography is an anatomy of
an artist who insisted on carving a career path according to his own rules,
convention be damned.
Devotees
of the filmmaker will learn more about Kubrick’s unrealized projects throughout
the years. Many of these we knew about, but we perhaps didn’t have insight into
how he might have made such possible films as Burning Secret, based on a
Stefan Zweig novel about a rich baron who seduces a woman at a hotel spa by
befriending her twelve-year-old son. Its themes of jealousy, illicit affairs,
and confidences might have been an early take on what much later became Eyes
Wide Shut. Kubrick had always had an interest in the subject of marital
jealousy and had wanted to create something on that topic as far back as the
1950s.
Another
tantalizing tidbit, first mentioned by biographer John Baxter, is that in 1960,
Kubrick may have been speaking to executives at MCA about adapting for
television a detective series, Dr. Brilliant, created by none other than
Ian Fleming!
The
usual tropes of Kubrick’s perfectionism and obstinate penchant for multiple
takes on movie sets are discussed, and many are put to rest as myths. The
authors cannily peel back the façade that the press and PR have painted of
Kubrick. Underneath is a man of extraordinary intellect who deeply cared about
his art. He took great pains—and lengthy amounts of time—to first choose and
then come to grips with a project in order to develop the passion he required
to invest the energy into seeing them through to fruition. Coupled with this
fervor for cinema is Kubrick’s family man persona—once he had settled into his successful
third marriage, he was surrounded by women (his wife and three daughters) and
an abundance of dogs and cats (he was an animal lover, and that says a lot
about Stanley Kubrick’s personality).
For
the films themselves, there is plenty here about the morsels that generated
Kubrick’s cult of followers—Dr. Strangelove, 2001: A Space Odyssey,
A Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon, The Shining, Full
Metal Jacket, and all the others are discussed in depth.
For
anyone interested in cinema history, exceptional filmmaking, and a director who
rightly earned the label of auteur, Kubrick: An Odyssey is an
exceptional, thorough biography of one of the most renowned and controversial
names in motion pictures.
Turner Classic Movies(TCM) will celebrate the 100th
Anniversary of Columbia Pictures with a spotlight on their
incredible film legacy beginning Wednesday, January 3. Join TCM host
Ben Mankiewicz in the month-long celebration showcasing the breadth of the
studio’s films with a different decade every Wednesday, from the 1920s and
1930s with “It Happened One Night” all the way through to 2000s “Marie
Antoinette.” The celebration will kick off Wednesday, January 3 at 8pm ET,
ahead of Columbia Pictures 100th Anniversary on January 10.
The following is a complete schedule for TCM’s January Spotlight:
TCM January Spotlight: Columbia Pictures 100th Anniversary
(All Times Eastern)
Wednesday, January 3 Night
One – the 1920s and 1930s
Due to the financial success of the highly
enjoyable 1985 martial arts/actioner American
Ninja, a sequel was quickly put into production which would feature the
return of stars Michael Dudikoff and Steve James as well as director Sam
Firstenberg.
Written by James Booth and Gary Conway (from
a story by Conway), American Ninja 2: The
Confrontation finds our heroes—US Army Rangers Sergeant Joe Armstrong
(Dudikoff) and Sergeant Curtis Jackson (James)—travelling to the Caribbean in
order to search for a group of Marines that have gone missing. Once there, they
find that an evil drug lord known as the Lion (Gary Conway) has been
brainwashing and genetically enhancing soldiers, transforming them into
superhuman Ninja killers. Are the Ninjitsu skills of Armstrong and Jackson
enough to stop the Lion from turning the missing Marines into deadly Super
Ninjas?
Filmed in South Africa and released by Cannon
Films on May 1, 1987, American Ninja 2:
The Confrontation, while not as solid or as successful as its predecessor,
is still a very fun, 80s adventure. It’s no surprise that veteran action
director Firstenberg expertly handles the film’s many exciting action sequences,
and the cast, led by the talented Dudikoff and James, is a joy to watch. The
film clocks in at a brief 90 minutes and features familiar faces such as
Conway, Jeff Weston and karate champion Mike Stone; not to mention legendary
actor/stuntman Kane Hodder (Jason from the Friday
the 13thfranchise) in a brief role as a thug. If, like me,
you’re a fan of super fun 80s action flicks, Dudikoff, James, or all three, you’ll
find plenty to enjoy here.
American Ninja 2: The
Confrontation has
been released on a region one Blu-ray by Kino Lorber and is presented in its
original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. As with the KLedition of the 1985 film, the
sequel looks and sounds fantastic. The special features include two informative
audio commentaries: one by director Firstenberg (moderated by filmmaker/editor
Elijah Drenner) and another by Firstenberg and Stunt Coordinator BJ Davis.
There is also the featurette: An American
Ninja in Cape Town: The Making of American Ninja 2 as well as the original theatrical
trailer. The Blu-ray also comes with an eye-catching slipcover.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Shout! Factory.
For
the honor of the crown and the destiny of a country, four heroes must
reassemble for one last epic battle in the cult film classic, THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. Directed by Randall Wallace (We Were Soldiers, Pearl Harbor), Leonardo DiCaprio (Killers of the Flower Moon) leads a phenomenal cast, including Jeremy Irons (Red Sparrow), John Malkovich (Bullet Head), Gérard Depardieu (To the Ends of the Earth), and Gabriel Byrne (Hereditary) in this thrilling tale of majesty and Musketeers. On December 26, 2023, Shout! Select will release THE MAN IN THE IRON MASKCollector’s Edition in 4K UHD™+ Blu-ray™.
This must-have home entertainment release features new 4K transfer from
the original negative in Dolby Vision, and special bonus content. Movie
collectors and fans can now preorder THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK
Collector’s Edition 4K UHD™+ Blu-ray™ at ShoutFactory.com.
Louis
XIII, King of France, had a son, Louis, who succeeded his father to the
throne. But, known to very few, the heir had a twin brother, Philippe,
hidden away after birth and forced to languish in prison, his identity
unknown behind an iron mask. His brother, now grown and King Louis XIV,
proved to be both corrupt and a tyrant. Louis sends Athos’ son, Raoul
off to certain death in war, so that he could have his woman for
himself. Athos, together with two of the other Musketeers, Porthos and
Aramis, swear revenge. Only D’Artagnan remains loyal to the crown, but
will he join his former compatriots to free Philippe from prison, kill
the king, and put Philippe on the throne in his place?
UNITED ARTISTS Presents A RANDALL WALLACE Film LEONARDO DiCAPRIO JEREMY IRONS
JOHN MALKOVICH GÉRARD DEPARDIEU GABRIEL BYRNE “THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK”
ANNE PARILLAUD JUDITH GODRÈCHE A UNITED ARTISTS CORPORATION LTD. Production
Music by NICK GLENNIE-SMITH Costume Designer JAMES ACHESON Edited by WILLIAM HOY
Production Designed by ANTHONY PRATT Director of Photography PETER SUSCHITZKY
Based upon the novel by ALEXANDRE DUMAS Co-Producer PAUL HITCHCOCK Executive Producer ALAN LADD, JR.
Produced by RANDALL WALLACE RUSSELL SMITH Written for the Screen and Directed by RANDALL WALLACE
THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK Collector’s Edition
Bonus Features for UHD/Blu-ray
DISC ONE (4K UHD):
· NEW 4K Transfer From the Original Camera Negative
· Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1, 2.0
· In Dolby Vision (HDR-10 Compatible)
· Audio Commentary With Writer/Director Randall Wallace
DISC TWO (BLU-RAY):
· NEW 4K Transfer From The Original Camera Negative
· Audio: DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1, 2.0
· Audio Commentary with Randall Wallace
· Interview With Producer Paul Hitchcock
· Interview With Production Designer Anthony Pratt
If Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey
(1968), Joseph Sargent’s Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970), Sir Ridley
Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), Simon Wincer’s D.A.R.Y.L. (1985),
and the television show Small Wonder (1985 – 1989) are all about
anything that we can be absolutely sure of, they are about prescience and the
coming of “Artificial Intelligence.” Following Stanford University professor John
McCarthy’s 1955 Dartmouth workshop and his introduction of the term “Artificial
Intelligence,” or “AI” as it is generally referred to now, AI means many things
to many different people today. When these outings reached audiences, they were
merely regarded as science fiction, though today there is an argument to be
made that they should be reappraised as science fact. AI was not a term used
when those films were released and has only come into universal parlance with
the release of OpenAI’s ChatGPT in November 2022. One wonders how Alan Turing,
Marvin Minsky, Allen Newell, and Herbert A. Simon, the four men all regarded as
the “founding fathers” of Artificial Intelligence in the early 1950s, would
have regarded these stories and if they were in line with their notions of AI.
Richard Colla’s The Questor Tapes is a
made-for-TV movie that was largely ignored by audiences despite its interesting
premise of a scientist named Emil Vaslovik (Lew Ayres) and his desire to build
a superhuman android named Questor, expertly portrayed by veteran actor Robert
Foxworth. Filmed in 1973 and intended to be the pilot for a projected NBC
series, Questor was the brainchild of Gene Roddenberry, a television
screenwriter and producer who is best known for both being confused with author
Ray Bradbury as well as being the creator of the initially unsuccessful but
later wildly popular sci-fi television series Star Trek. Broadcast on
Wednesday, January 23, 1974, Questor begins with a team of scientific
and electronic experts who, following the disappearance of Vaslovik, attempt to
bring his vision to fruition despite being unable to decode the programming
tape while also accidentally erasing most of the tape’s contents – a nod to the
Watergate scandal of the time?
Geoffrey Darrow (John Vernon) is the new head
of the project, and he butts heads with Vaslovik’s assistant, Jerry Robinson
(Mike Farrell), who interrupts the data transfer and insists that the
programming should be done with the partially erased tapes. When the android
fails to respond, the “experts” leave the facility, dejected. While alone,
Questor, bald and naked, whirrs to life and, in a positively ridiculous
sequence, begins to transform itself from an “it” to a “him” (wait until you
see how it adds hair to its chrome dome), managing to dress itself in clothing
that perfectly fits. Questor sets off on a journey to search for Vaslovik and
hopes to understand his purpose while attempting to fill in the blank spots due
to the erased portions of his memory tapes. To do this, he enlists the help of a
reluctant Robinson. Questor begins by talking the way that a robot would be
perceived to speak, but through his travels with Robinson he begins to sound
more and more human. There is a humorous sequence after the duo make their way
to London and need to obtain more money. Questor solves this issue by using programmed
intelligence to gain the upper hand in a casino sequence that would be later
used by Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman in Barry Levinson’s Rain Man
(1988) and by Jessica Alba in the “Cash Rules Everything Around Me” episode
from October 2000 of the James Cameron-created series Dark Angel.
They make their way to a wealthy Lady Helena
Trimble (Dana Wynter) who worked with Vaslovik and he gleans more info from her
as to his creator’s whereabouts, though he is shot in a park by a soldier and is
summarily returned to the laboratory. Following his repair, Questor sets off to
Mount Ararat, allegedly the location of Noah’s Ark, and locates Vaslovik in a
cave thanks to some nifty matte work by the late great Oscar-winning artist
Albert Whitlock. Vaslovik, as it turns out, is also an android – shades of Blade
Runner? Who can forget the revelatory stuttering of Felix Flankin at the
end of Jules Bass’s 1967 outing Mad Monster Party? I will leave it up to
you, the reader, to have a look at the film to explain the rather involved denouement
but suffice it to say Mr. Roddenberry had a knack for creating projects that
initially went nowhere, then revisiting them and turning them into hits. While Questor
was initially conceived of as a series, with the movie intended as the series
pilot, creative differences between Mr. Roddenberry and NBC forced it to be nixed
and promoted as a one-off movie-of-the-week (known in the industry as an MOW)
which, I feel, explains the film’s abrupt ending. Many of the ideas touched
upon, including the notion of automatons and androids, made their way into the
highly successful Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987 – 1994).
Questor explores themes common to other films
of a similar ilk: What gives us our identity and what constitutes humanity? How
do we, as humans, quench our thirst for knowledge and curiosity? Both Mr. Foxworth
and Mr. Farrell possess good chemistry and it would have been nice to see where
the series went.
The laboratory portions of the film were shot
at the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena. While the technology of
1973 was considered to be “state-of-the-art” and then destined to become
“soon-to-be-obsolete” as all technology inevitably does (at least according to
Moore’s Law), it’s a kick to see how the experts reach their conclusions as to
how Questor will react to the environment. The special effects are, as you can
well imagine, dated, however the ideas are just as thought-provoking and
visionary and never more topical than when viewed now in an era when robots are
poised to man 18-wheelers, serve customers at fast food joints, and perform
minimum wage tasks deemed repetitive and boring.
Kino Lorber has released the film on Blu-ray,
and it looks great. There is an informative and spirited commentary track by
film historian and screenwriter Gary Gerani. Extraordinarily
knowledgeable and enjoyable to listen to, I will seek out other films that he
speaks on. His commentary encompasses brief but thorough bios of the leading
performers and makes comments on much of the onscreen action, how the sequences
were accomplished, while also delving into matters of the plot and how they
relate to the here-and-now. A first-rate commentary that easily lends itself to
repeated playback.
Rounding out the extras are trailers for the
film, as well as for Fear No Evil (1969), Scream, Pretty Peggy
(1973), Buck Rogers in the 25th Century (1979), The Groundstar
Conspiracy (1972), The Black Marble (1980), and Fuzz (1972).
Life goes from bad to worse for Confederate soldier John
Warner (George Hilton) in the opening half hour of “A Bullet for Sandoval,” a
1970 Spaghetti Western now available on Blu-ray in a Special Edition from VCI
Entertainment. On the eve of battle in Texas, Warner learns that his sweetheart
Rosa has just given birth to their son in plague-ridden Los Cedros, and now is
dying from cholera. Denied authorisation to leave camp, Warner rides off
anyway, incurring a death sentence for desertion. Arriving in Los Cedros with
hopes of marrying Rosa before she dies, he finds no sympathy there either. Rosa
has passed away, and her father Don Pedro Sandoval (Ernest Borgnine), a
powerful grandee who loathes “gringos” in general and Warner in particular, is
infuriated that the soldier has returned. He disowns the baby and drives Warner
and the newborn out of his palatial hacienda.
Fleeing Los Cedros with his son, Warner is rebuffed at
one way-station and then a second when he begs for milk for the infant. The
people at both places are fearful of being infected when they learn that he has
just come from Los Cedros. The weakened, feverish baby dies, and Warner becomes
a vengeful outlaw, assembling a gang of henchmen to raid the settlements that
drove him away when he needed their aid to keep his child alive. Three of the
men—Sam, Lucky, and Priest—are trustworthy. The other three—Morton, One-Eye (“a
sex maniac convicted of raping two little girls”), and Guadalupano—not so much.
Warner comes to enjoy the riches and women that accrue from his new career as a
bandit, but his ultimate target remains Sandoval. In the meantime, Don Pedro and
his fellow cattle barons on the Border convince the Confederate army to help
them pursue and eradicate Warner and his band.
Like most Spaghetti Westerns, “A Bullet for Sandoval” was
an international production with Italian studio backing, a cast of actors from
several countries, outdoor locations in the Spanish desert, and in this case, a
Spanish director (Julio Buchs), and Spanish writers. In the starring role,
George Hilton (born Jorge Hill Acosta y Lara) was an accomplished, darkly
handsome Uruguayan actor who had a thriving career in Italian genre movies but
was largely unknown to U.S. moviegoers. For marquee value in the States, the
producers paired him with Ernest Borgnine as the imperious Don Pedro. Who
didn’t know Ernest Borgnine from “The Wild Bunch,” “Ice Station Zebra,” a
hundred other movies, and “McHale’s Navy”?
With Borgnine’s name prominently displayed on ads, “A
Bullet for Sandoval” was one of several Spaghetti Westerns that opened in the
U.S. in 1970, after the surprise success of “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.”
Derided by most critics as violent trash, they were usually relegated to
drive-ins and second-run movie houses. There, they filled a void on
double-bills left by the death of traditional, American-made B-Westerns like
those made a decade before with aging stars like Dana Andrews, Glenn Ford, and Robert
Taylor. Sometimes, ironically, they were paired with the homegrown Spaghetti
imitations that Hollywood studios had begun to produce, like “Two Mules for Sister Sara,”
“Barquero,” “Macho Callahan,” and “El
Condor.”
The critics may have dismissed the genre, but their
opinions were immaterial for the U.S. target audience of young guys in their
teens and early twenties, who welcomed pictures like “A Bullet for Sandoval” on
all-night movie marathons at local drive-ins. At one o’clock in the morning, in
a pleasant stupor of fatigue and beer, few would question the accuracy or
plausibility of a Civil War in which Confederate officers pause their military
campaign to help ranchers chase outlaws. As far as fans were concerned, such
fine points could be argued by history professors, as long as they could rely
on filmmakers like Buchs to deliver a gritty succession of gunfights, chases,
and gorgeous European starlets—in the case of “A Bullet for Sandoval,”
Annabella Incontrera, Mary Paz Pondal, and Paquita Torres—in low-cut peasant
blouses.
VCI Entertainment’s new Special Edition of “A Bullet for
Sandoval” presents the film in a remastered, 4K version from the original
negative, adding the English-dubbed voice track and diligently restoring ten
minutes of footage edited out of the U.S. print in 1970 and consequently, out
of previous American home video releases. As director and enthusiast Alex Cox
suggests in his informative audio commentary for the disc, the movie is better
than its synopsis implies. The script and direction give the story an epic
scope despite a limited budget, culminating in a briskly staged showdown in a
bullfighting arena, and Hilton and Borgnine offer heartfelt performances as the
two antagonists. Relatively rare for a Spaghetti Western, both Warner and Don
Pedro are emotionally damaged characters instead of the cool-cat bounty hunter
and deranged bandido who usually anchor such films.
Cox notes that the grim scenes of Warner and his friends
Lucky and Priest trying to keep Warner’s baby alive in the desert owe an
obvious debt to “Three Godfathers,” John Ford’s 1948 parable of the Nativity
story with horses and six-shooters. Ford was ever the optimist, and the infant
in “Three Godfathers” survives, delivered safely to a Western town called
Jerusalem by outlaw Bob Hightower, played by the indomitable John Wayne.
Warner’s newborn isn’t as fortunate in a world bereft of Christian charity, reflecting
the grim philosophy of the Spaghetti genre where the innocent are as likely to
suffer as the corrupt and the guilty, and often, more likely.
In addition to Alex Cox’s commentary track, the VCI
Special Edition includes the title sequence from the original Spanish version,
titled “Los Desperados,” and the U.S. theatrical trailer. It is an admirably
respectful package for a movie that few would have regarded as anything other
than disposable entertainment five decades ago.
The
British production, The Edge of the World, was acclaimed director
Michael Powell’s first important feature film. Released in 1937, it was
well-received in the U.K. and it also made something of a splash in the USA
among the more discerning critics and audiences who appreciated non-Hollywood
fare.
Powell
had been working in cinema in various capacities since the silent days as a
still photographer, scriptwriter, and director of short films. Through most of
the 1930s, he helmed over twenty pictures that had diverse levels of success, but
it wasn’t until 1936-37 that he had the chance to make a truly personal film. This
was the “big bang” breakthrough in his movie career.
The
Edge of the World is
based on a newspaper article Powell had read that documented how a remote
island, St. Kilda in the Scottish Outer Hebrides, was losing its population due
to the land’s inability to support the people, and because younger generations were
fleeing to Scotland and England for better opportunities. Powell wrote an
original script involving two families on such an island and how dramatic circumstances
change their lives.
Unable
to film on St. Kilda, Powell chose the northern island of Foula in the Shetland
Islands group. It was suitably similar in both the landscape and the people’s geo-political
issues. With a handful of known actors and by casting many characters from the
locals, Powell and cinematographers Monty Berman, Skeets Kelly, Ernest Palmer,
and Powell himself, captured (even in black and white) the beauty and awesome
grandeur of the cliffs-dominated island.
Two
dominant families on the fictional island of Hirta, the Mansons and the Grays, are
united by an upcoming marriage between Andrew Gray (Niall MacGinnis) and Ruth
Manson (Belle Chrystall). Ruth’s brother, Robbie (Eric Berry) is Andrew’s best
friend. Conflict arises when Robbie announces that he’s leaving the island to
go “see the world” because there’s nothing left on Hirta for him. Losing
someone like Robbie hurts the economy because there aren’t that many strapping
young men to do the fishing and crofting. Andrew attempts to convince Robbie to
stay, but Robbie will have none of it. Andrew’s father (Finlay Currie) is
somewhat sympathetic to Robbie and believes that the islanders’ way of life is
indeed diminishing and that they should all evacuate for the good of their
children’s children. Robbie’s father (John Laurie) disagrees and is determined
to stay, despite his son’s wishes. Andrew and Robbie challenge each other to an
age-old tradition of racing up one of the cliffs to determine if Robbie should
stay or not. The results of the contest are tragic… and this deeply affects the
futures of the two families and the rest of the story.
Michael
Powell appears at the beginning of the film as a yachtsman escorting Andrew
Gray back to the island for reminiscing (the rest of the movie is a flashback).
Short
and tight (at 75 minutes), The Edge of the World is a slice of life to
which few of us today can relate, but it is a well-made, touching depiction of
the story that Powell wanted to tell. Perhaps more important than the movie
itself is the fact that the picture’s reception enabled Powell to go on to
bigger and better projects, such as Thief of Bagdad (1940) and the
eventual brilliant partnership with co-director Emeric Pressburger.
In
fact, the making of The Edge of the World meant so much to Powell that
he returned to Foula in 1978 with a camera crew and some of the surviving
actors to make a short documentary, Return to the Edge of the World.
This half hour program is in full color and is a warm reunion between the
filmmakers and the people who still reside on the island.
Milestone
Film and Video presents a beautifully restored high definition of the feature
film (distributed by Kino Lorber) with an audio commentary by Powell’s widow,
Oscar-winning editor Thelma Schoonmaker, film historian Ian Christie, and
Oscar-winning actor Daniel Day-Lewis reading from Powell’s book on the making
of the film (200,000 Feet on Foula).
Supplements
include alternate scenes; the original trailer; the documentary Return to
the Edge of the World; Powell’s short 1941 film, An Airman’s Letter to
His Mother; and Powell’s home movies shot on Foula, narrated by
Schoonmaker.
The
Edge of the World is
recommended for fans of Michael Powell, Scotland history, and early British
cinema.
Celebrating
its 40th anniversary in 2024, the beloved classic FOOTLOOSE
arrives for the first time ever on 4K Ultra HD™ February 13, 2024
from Paramount Home Entertainment.
Originally
released on February 17, 1984, FOOTLOOSE thrilled audiences with
its spirited dancing, electrifying soundtrack, and inspiring story. Kevin
Bacon gives a star-making performance as a city boy whose rebellious love for
music and dancing shakes up a small town.
Directed
by Herbert Ross and written by composer and writer Dean Pitchford, FOOTLOOSE
was a massive success, earning $80 million at the domestic box office.
The film features an exceptional supporting cast, including Lori Singer, Dianne
Wiest, John Lithgow, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Chris Penn, along with a
sensational soundtrack featuring Kenny Loggins, Shalamar, Deniece Williams,
Bonnie Tyler, Quiet Riot, John Mellencamp, Foreigner, and more. Both
“Footloose” and “Let’s Hear It for the Boy” were nominated for the Academy
Award® for Best Music, Original Song.
Newly
remastered, FOOTLOOSE will be available in a two-disc 4K Ultra
HD/Blu-ray™ set or a collectible SteelBook™ with artwork designed to
look like an 80s Walkman. Both sets include access to a digital copy of
the film and the Blu-ray includes the legacy bonus content detailed below:
·Commentary
by Craig Zadan and Dean Pitchford
·Commentary
by Kevin Bacon
·Let's
Dance! Kevin Bacon on Footloose
·From
Bomont to the Big Apple: An Interview with Sarah Jessica Parker
·Remembering
Willard
·Kevin
Bacon's Screen Test
·Kevin
Bacon Costume Montage
·Footloose:
A Modern Musical - Part 1
·Footloose:
A Modern Musical - Part 2
·Footloose:
Songs That Tell A Story
·Theatrical
Trailer
Synopsis
City-boy
Ren McCormick (Kevin Bacon) is new to an uptight small town where dancing has
been banned. Ren quickly makes a new best friend in Willard (Chris Penn) and
falls fast for the minister's daughter (Lori Singer), but his love for music
and dancing gets him into hot water equally as fast.??
Joe Dante's "Trailers from Hell" site features Marlon Brando trailers this week, including director Sidney J. Furie's sadly neglected 1966 Western "The Appaloosa", with trailer commentary by film director Daniel Kremer, who authored a book about Furie. Kremer makes the most of the trailer's limited running time, providing fascinating and amusing insights into Brando's bizarre behavior on the set. The reluctant superstar had a bad attitude about making the film, which he had to do to satisfy a long-time contractual commitment to Universal. The film is not a classic, but like most of the movies Brando made in the 1960s, it is underrated.
Click here to order the Blu-ray of the film with commentary track by Cinema Retro's Lee Pfeiffer and film historian Paul Scrabo.
Imprint, the Australian video label, has released a region-free Blu-ray set, "Tales of Adventure Collection #2" consisting of four jungle-based action films: "Safari", Elephant Walk", "Fair Wind to Java" and "Angel of the Amazon". This is a limited edition set of 1,500 units.
The late, great Rutger Hauer was an amazingly
talented actor. Named the Best Dutch Actor of the Century by the Dutch public,
the Saturn Award nominated thespian had an extremely entertaining career where
he memorably played both heroes and villains in classic films such as Nighthawks, The Hitcher, Blade Runner,
Ladyhawke, Wanted: Dead or Alive, and Buffy
the Vampire Slayer. Just to name a few. Recently, Hauer’s wonderful turn as
Nick Parker in 1990’s action-packed film Blind
Fury was released to Blu-ray.
Written by Charles Robert Carner and directed
by Phillip Noyce, Blind Fury deals
with Nick Parker (Hauer), a soldier who was blinded in Vietnam, but developed
his remaining senses and, through intense training, becoming an expert with a
samurai sword before returning to the States. When Parker’s best friend and
fellow soldier, Frank Deveraux (Terry O’Quinn), is kidnapped by ruthless
criminals, Parker decides to take Frank’s young son, Billy, (Brandon Call) to
Nevada in order to find and rescue his dad. However, the deadly thugs want
Billy so that they can use him to convince Frank to make their illegal drugs.
With the help of Frank’s girlfriend, Annie (Lisa Blount), Nick does everything
he can to protect young Billy from the homicidal hoods and save Frank before
it’s too late.
Filmed around the Midwestern United States
and released by Tri-Star Pictures in March of 1990, Blind Fury, which was produced by Daniel Grodnick and actor/director
Tim Matheson, is a highly enjoyable action adventure/martial arts film with
well-drawn characters and just the right amount of comic relief and heart.
Based on the Japanese character Zatoichi—a blind swordsman who was created by
Kan Shimozawa in 1948 and appeared in 26 films—Blind Fury is basically a loving remake of the seventeenth Zatoichi
film Zatoichi Challenged (1967).
Clocking in at a brief 86 minutes, Blind Fury moves along pretty quickly
and not only features excellent direction by Phillip Noyce, but also a
well-known, veteran cast who do a terrific job. Naturally, Rutger Hauer is
excellent in the role of Nick Parker. Trained by blind judo champion and
Paralympic silver medal winner Lynn Manning, Hauer has said that playing a
blind swordsman was one of the most difficult jobs he’s ever had to do.
Besides the super talented Call, O’Quinn and
Blount, the exciting film also features wonderful performances from Noble
Willingham, Nick Cassavetes, former pro boxer Randall “Tex” Cobb, comedian Rick
Overton, the immortal Sho Kosugi, the lovely Meg Foster, former professional
wrestler Tiger Chung Lee and former pro football player Jay Pennison.
Blind Fury has been released on
a region one, two and three Blu-ray, and is presented in its original 1.85:1
aspect ratio. The entertaining film looks excellent and sounds just as great.
Special features include a very informative audio commentary by screenwriter
Charles Robert Carner (moderated by filmmaker Douglas Hosdale)as well as the original theatrical
trailer. The Blu-ray also comes with a slipcover which contains some
fun-looking artwork of Nick Parker in action. If you’re a fan of old school
action/martial arts cinema; Rutger Hauer; samurai films or all of the above,
then definitely check this one out.
Kino Lorber has released a Blu-ray collection: ""Columbo: The 1970s, Seasons 1-7"
Here are the details:
"Columbo" is the landmark series that set the standard for the
murder mystery genre. Remastered in 4K by Universal, "Columbo: The 1970s"
includes the first seven seasons of this enduring classic on Blu-ray!
Starring Peter Falk in his four-time Emmy-winning role as the
cigar-chomping, trenchcoat-wearing police lieutenant.
Special Features: • Restored in 4K by Universal Pictures • Includes the 1968 Movie-of-the-Week "Prescription: Murder" and the 1971 Pilot "Ransom for a Dead Man" • Shorter 71-Minute Cut of "ÉTUDE IN BLACK" • Optional Music and Effects Tracks for All Episodes • Episode Guide Booklet • Newly Commissioned Slipcase Cover Illustration by Tony Stella • Optional English Subtitles
Ryan O'Neal, the star of "Love Story" and "Barry Lyndon", has died from unspecified causes at the age of 82. He had been experiencing health issues since being diagnosed with leukemia and prostate cancer over a decade ago. O'Neal learned the craft of acting on his own, never having taken a lesson. He entered the film industry as a teenager, performing stunts. In 1964 he received his first major role, starring in "Peyton Place", the successful TV series based on the hit feature film and its sequel. His career went into high gear when he was cast with another up-and-coming actor, Ali MacGraw, in the 1970 screen adaptation of Eric Segal's bestselling novel "Love Story". Segal had adapted his own screenplay to form the basis of the wafer-thin novel about a doomed romance between a young couple at Harvard University. The novel sold millions and paved the way for Paramount's big screen version, which was both a critical and financial success. O'Neal and MacGraw both earned Oscar nominations. O'Neal's post-Oscar career skyrocketed and he worked in with some of the industry's top directors including Richard Attenborough, Peter Bogdanovich and Stanley Kubrick, who raised eyebrows by casting the American actor in the leading role in his opulent 1975 epic "Barry Lyndon". The film won enormous acclaim but much of it didn't rub off on O'Neal, as some critics voiced the opinion that Kubrick, who was not known as an "actor's director" had cast him simply because he was a bland screen presence who wouldn't distract from the more spectacular aspects of the production. Nevertheless, O'Neal had been riding high with hits like "What's Up, Doc?", in which he co-starred with Barbra Streisand, "The Main Event"and "Paper Moon", in which he starred with his pre-teen daughter Tatum, who became the youngest actor to receive an Oscar. O'Neal also had a major role in Attenborough's 1977 WWII epic "A Bridge Too Far". His misfires included the starring
role in an ill-fated 1978 big screen sequel to "Love Story" titled
"Oliver's Story" which he personally denounced as "a complete-off" that
he did for the money.One of his last major big screen hits was "The Main Event" in 1979, which teamed him again with Streisand.
By the 1980s, O'Neal's career was in a tailspin. He still found work but the better roles and films eluded him. Attempts to move into television did not have successful results. He also suffered an endless stream of sensational stories in the press about his personal behavior, most of it centered on his mercurial temper. He was once arrested for beating his son Griffin, though charges were eventually dropped and years later would be arrested on drug charges along with another son, Redmond. He had been married and divorced twice when he began a long relationship with actress Farrah Fawcett, who was married to actor Lee Majors at the time. The couple never married but Ms. Fawcett was mother to Redmond O'Neal. O'Neal and Fawcett split up but eventually reconciled and he saw her through her traumatic battle against terminal cancer. He worked in television with little success before landing a recurring role on the popular series "Bones". The O'Neal family's personal problems had long been regular fodder for gossip columns. He was estranged from Tatum for most of her life and the two never fully reconciled, even though the two had co-starred on a reality show that portrayed their relationship favorably. Characteristically, O'Neal would later say that the show was sanitizing what was still a very volatile relationship. He proclaimed that one of his most satisfying late-in-life highlights was reuniting with Ali MacGraw to co-star in the moving stage play "Love Letters".
The 1980s were chock full of amazing action
franchises and action stars. The stars were legendary: Charles Bronson, Clint
Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Chuck Norris, Mel Gibson,
Danny Glover, etc. The franchises were just as legendary: Death Wish, Dirty Harry, Rambo, Terminator, Missing in Action, Lethal Weapon, etc. Not to mention the
beloved James Bond series which produced five blockbuster movies throughout the
80s, three starring Roger Moore and two starring Timothy Dalton. Then, there
were the great one-shot action films of which there are way too many to list
here. Of course, martial arts/action; especially those featuring ninjas, were
just as popular with cinemagoers. Yes, it was an exciting decade.
In 1985, Cannon Films, led by immortal
producers Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus, decided to start a new action movie/martial
arts franchise titled American Ninja.
Cannon, who were responsible for the popular
Missing in Action and Death Wish
series of films as well as several well-loved ninja movies which starred the
fantastic Sho Kosugi and partly started the ninja craze, wanted Chuck Norris to
play the lead role of Private Joe Armstrong. However, Norris declined. Cannon
then went on a worldwide search and, after auditioning over 400 candidates, they
chose up and coming actor Michael Dudikoff. The well-made movie would go on to
spawn four sequels, two of which (parts 2 and 4) would see Dudikoff return as
the silent, but deadly Armstrong. Thanks to our friends at Kino Lorber, the
original film has now been released on Blu-ray.
Written by Paul De Mielche (from a story by
Gideon Amir and Avi Kleinberger) and directed by action veteran Sam
Firstenberg, American Ninja tells the
story of Joe Armstrong (Dudikoff), a US Army private who uses his Ninjitsu
skills when a supply convoy is ambushed by rebels led by a Black Ninja Warrior
(Tadashi Yamashita). Now marked for revenge by the Black Star Ninjas, Joe, with
the help of his friend, Corporal Curtis Jackson (played by the late, great
Steve James), must do everything in his power to rescue the kidnapped Patricia
Hickock (Judie Aronson)—daughter of Joe’s commanding officer—and take down the
Black Star Ninjas for good.
Made for one million dollars, American Ninja (aka American Warrior and American
Fighter) is a solid and entertaining 80s action film with an engrossing
enough story, a terrific cast, and exciting action sequences which are more
than competently handled by director Firstenberg (who already had some Ninja
experience directing the Sho Kosugi martial arts/action classics Return of the Ninja and Ninja III: The Domination for Cannon).
The fun, 95-minute movie also features John Fujioka, Don Stewart and Richard
Norton.
Trained by 10th degree black belt
and martial arts champion Mike Stone, American
Ninja instantly made Michael Dudikoff an action movie star. Over the next
two decades, Dudikoff would appear in a plethora of action films. He would also
reunite with Steve James two more times in American
Ninja 2: The Confrontation and Avenging
Force; both directed by Firstenberg. James, who I believe would have become
a major action star if not for his untimely death, went on to reprise his role
as Curtis Jackson a third time in American
Ninja 3: Blood Hunt.
American Ninja has been released on
a region one Blu-ray. It is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio and
the film looks and sounds incredible. The special features include an
informative audio commentary by director Sam Firstenberg (moderated by
filmmaker/editor Elijah Drenner) as well as a second commentary with
Firstenberg and Stunt Coordinator Steven Lambert. We are also treated to Rumble in the Jungle: The Making of
American Ninja, the original theatrical trailer and TV spot, and a very
cool-looking slipcover. This is pure 80s goodness. Don’t miss it.
The
film classic that put director Bernardo Bertolucci on the map outside of Italy
was 1970’s The Conformist, hailed by the arthouse cinema circuit as one
of the masterpieces of international filmmaking in that decade.
An
Italian-French-West German co-production, The Conformist was filmed in
Italy and France and stars celebrated French actor Jean-Louis Trintignant, who
made several pictures in Italy along with the many in his native country.
Although Trintignant could speak Italian, he was almost always dubbed by an
Italian actor in these pictures; in fact, all Italian movies of the era were
usually dubbed in post-production. Luckily, the dubbing here is quite good
because at least Trintignant is mouthing the correct Italian language dialogue.
This
is a gorgeous-looking movie, often cited as a groundbreaker in cinematography.
Vittorio Storaro made his name with the picture, just as Bertolucci did.
Francis Ford Coppola allegedly used The Conformist as the “look” he was
going for when he made The Godfather. Storaro is one of only three
people who have won the Best Cinematography Oscar three times (he won for Apocalypse
Now, Reds, and The Last Emperor, another Bertolucci title).
This
is reason alone to view the film today. The content is perhaps a little too
attached to the time period in which it was made, in that the editing and
narrative flow of the movie is somewhat experimental with its use of flashbacks
and time-jumping that filmmakers liked to play with in those days. As a result,
the first half of The Conformist takes some getting used to (and is, at
first, difficult to follow), but the second half is riveting. The subject
matter is also extremely political in that it is a psychological character
study of a man torn between the desire to fit in and to do what is right within
the context of the socio-political climate of his time.
It’s
1930s Italy, during Mussolini’s reign. Trintignant is Marcello, a wannabe
social climber… but to do so, he must during those years be a member of
Mussolini’s party and, well, a fascist. Most of his friends are members of the
party, as is his closest pal, a blind man named Italo (José
Quaglio). In 1938, Marcello accepts the assignment to assassinate his former
college professor, Luca Quadri (Enzo Tarascio), a staunch anti-fascist living
in Paris with his wife, Anna (Dominique Sanda). Marcello marries Giulia
(Stefania Sandrelli), a pretty girl who is naïve and rather common, in an
attempt to be “more like ‘normal’ people.” Marcello disguises his true purpose
on the trip to Paris by bringing along Giulia, and he is shadowed by his
handler, Agent Manganiello (Gastone Moschin, recognizable to Western audiences
as Don Fanucci from The Godfather Part II). Once in Paris, Marcello and
Giulia enjoy social gatherings with the Quadris, and there is some eyebrow-raising
hanky-panky that occurs between Anna and not only Marcello, but also Giulia!
(The seductive dance between Anna and Giulia at a party is a highlight of the
movie, and stills from the sequence dominated its marketing.) In the meantime,
Marcello is struggling with his assignment. Thrown into his head torment is the
trauma he suffered back in 1917, when as a boy he was molested by a young man.
There
is a lot going on within the characters’ psyches in The Conformist. It
is a rich, deeply layered motion picture that asks many questions and provides
few answers. Some sequences were shocking in 1970 and are still disturbing
today. This is potent cinema, providing the early evidence that Bertolucci was
a formidable artist who would push the envelope.
The
RARO Cinema Art Blu-ray edition (from RAROvideousa.com, distributed by Kino
Lorber) is a 2-disk set. The first disk contains a new stunning 4K restoration
from the original camera negative. This is accompanied by an audio commentary
by film critic Bilge Ebiri. The second disk is the 2011 HD restoration that
both Bertolucci and Storaro worked on. The inclusion of the second disk feature
is curious since the new restoration is far, far superior and should be the
go-to viewing. It appears that the second, older version is simply there for
comparison.
Supplements
spread over the two disks include an interview with Valentina Ricciardelli, the
president of the Bernardo Bertolucci Foundation; an hour-long documentary, “In
the Shade of The Conformist”; and trailers of the film from 1970, 2014,
and 2023.
The
Conformist is
for fans of Bernardo Bertolucci, Vittorio Storaro, Jean-Louis Trintignant,
international cinema, and political films.
Nicholas Anez’s Science
Fiction Thrills… Horror Chills is the fourth installment of the author’s
“Celluloid Adventures” series, all published by Baltimore’s Midnight Marquee
Press.Although I’m not familiar with Anez’s
original triad, I can reliably muse - based
solely on the strength of his newest effort - the preceding trio are as
well-researched, informative and against-the-grain-in-opinion as is this new
volume.
In his introduction to Science Fiction Thrills, Anez – full disclosure, a contributing
writer to Cinema Retro magazine - informs
readers that his intent in the writing of this current book is to “hopefully
create interest” in fourteen –mostly dismissed upon original release – sci-fi
and horror films.These were films that,
in one way or another, failed to find an appreciative audience despite creative
merit.Being a guy from New Jersey, I
can appreciate Anez’s fighting up from the mat for recognition of these
underdog efforts, championing under-performing films he posits as overlooked
cinematic treasures.
The fourteen films that go under Anez’s microscope are: Son of Dracula (1943), Alias Nick Beal (1949), The Maze (1953), Donovan’s Brain (1953), 1984
(1956), The Mind Benders (1963), Crack in the World (1965), The Mummy’s Shroud (1967), The Power (1968), Journey to the Far Side of the Sun (1969), The Groundstar Conspiracy (1972), Who? (1974), The Medusa Touch
(1978) and Capricorn One (1978).The latter title, Peter Hyman’s “space
mission” conspiracy film Capricorn One
is, of course, an odd man out in this study.Though not critically praised on its release, the film actually performed
reasonably well at the box office.
Each of Anez’s contributing essays are formulaic in
presentation: an introductory paragraph or two; a multi-page synopsis of the
film’s storyline; a discussion of the movie’s production history (including
full cast and crew credits); a review of a film’s critical reception and
subsequent box office performance.The
book is filled with a score of illustrations – both photographs and promotional
memorabilia - all well-reproduced in balanced black-and-white saturations.The book additionally closes with an eight-page
Appendix where the author lists his favorite sci-fi and horror flicks - as well
what he considers the greatest performances by an actor or actress in both
genres.Suffice to say, I share many of
the author’s cinematic enthusiasms.
To his credit, Anez doesn’t argue that any of the films under
examination - in an extremely readable and cogent two-hundred and fifteen page
paperback - is necessarily a “lost classic.”But Anez does suggest that each film studied here offers challenging
ideas and (mostly) cerebral storylines.Some of the films, he argues, were critically maligned or were proven box
office disappointments for economic reasons: that is, a shortfall of money.Too often the production budgets allotted
were simply too modest to mount and support the project’s ambitions.Having said that, Anez also notes the paucity
of money wasn’t always the reason a particular film did not light up the big
screen as hoped.The author opines some
of the films perhaps simply fell to the wayside due to the carping of critics (i.e.
the alleged miscasting of Edmond O’Brien as “Winston Smith” or of Michael
Andersons’ “unobstructive” direction of George Orwell’s novel 1984).
Other films, such as Basil Dearden’s The Mind Benders, might not have met expectations due to the filmmakers
having chose to mix multiple genre devices into their storylines.Anez gives examples: The Mind Benders is described as being “as much a domestic drama as
a thriller.”He offers John Farrow’s Alias Nick Beal as “a supernatural
horror story,” but one that “also fits in the category of film noir.”The author also contends that Robert
Siodmak’s Son of Dracula (a personal favorite
of mine, featuring an arguably miscast corn-fed Lon Chaney Jr.) remains “a
vastly underrated horror movie that is also a romantic tragedy.”
It soon becomes apparent that Anez’s argument that
certain films failed at the box office - or with film critics – was not due to
the quality of the films themselves.Instead many were perhaps doomed by visionary “outside-of-the-box”
productions that were tough to commercially pigeonhole.Perhaps these films didn’t achieve nor enjoy
a measure of acclaim due to the schematics of the filmmakers.It’s suggested such creative teams, at their
own expense, had gambled on their film’s commercial potentials – perhaps accidentally,
perhaps purposefully.Ultimately, they
chose not to cater to clichés or to rigid formulas or to the expectations of
their target audience.
In the book’s afterword, Anez notes he chose to focus on
“an era in which science-fiction movies depended on ideas and not special effects,” a time when horror films conjured chills
“upon the power of suggestion and not
graphic gore.”Reading through these
essays it becomes obvious that Anez is a strong champion of scenarios that feature
solid writing and cerebral storytelling.It’s of interest that of the fourteen films examined here, no fewer than
eight had been adapted from pre-existing science-fiction novels or other
literary sources published from the 1940s through the 1970s.
Anez acknowledges that some of these films under his
microscope might now appear dated - even open to some ridicule by contemporary
standards - for their dopey, unsophisticated poor-science-based projections.He muses other films might have been doomed at
the box office by their gloomy, paranoid prognostications of a dreary, dystopic
future.(Certainly none of the films Anez
examines here can be thought of as “feel good” movies – quite the opposite, in
fact).Such dystopic melancholia is
reflected in Anez’s own opinions.He
writes of his fear that contemporary exercises of political correctness and encroaching
Orwellian cancel culture movements might yet alter - even expunge – aging artistic
works and forms of “popular culture from the past.”“In today’s Hollywood,” Anez sighs, “nothing
is implied anymore; everything is explicit.”
I’m probably not as fatalistic as Anez on some of the points
he makes, though one can certainly understand – and even sympathize with – some
of the arguments he makes.But by my
reckoning, home video has - from inception - assured that a majority of cultural
artifacts will survive in their original forms for some time well into the
future.Certainly books and films and
music reflective of the aggrieved historical period in which they were created
will survive in their original state.How could they not?There’s too
many of us who have carefully collected and curated these artworks to see them
suddenly made unavailable.But it is also
true that many of these works might – might
- need to co-exist alongside a bowdlerized version for generations to come.
The real question is whether or not our shared histories
– good, bad, tragic, celebratory or indifferent - can be erased easily?The jury is out on that point, and the debate
on the historical revisionism of culture, I imagine, will be argued long into
the future.It’s of interest that many
of the future-looking films that Anez studies in Science Fiction Thrills… Horror Chills cautions and forewarns against
the censorship of free ideas - be those ideas well-meaning, ignorant, brilliant
or otherwise. I was going to end this review with Shakespeare’s famously reflective
and internal ponder on the duality of intentions, “Ay, there’s the rub.”But I
admit I almost didn’t, perhaps employing a bit of guarded self-censorship.After all, Shakespeare, the “immortal bard”
of Avon, might not prove so immortal after all.He too is now a target of cancel culture.
One
of the more under-seen and underrated films from 1985 is John Boorman’s
impressive The Emerald Forest, which gave us an ecological message long
before that was much in the public consciousness.
Of
a more cinematic significance, this picture is a grand adventure full of action
and spectacle, much like Boorman’s Deliverance (1972) or Excalibur (1981)
before it. The production values also indicate that this was no easy feat of a
movie to make.
The
Emerald Forest was
shot in and near São Paolo, Brazil, right smack by the Amazon
River and in the rain forest. Native extras populated much of the movie, which
possibly for the first time provided to audiences of a mainstream motion
picture depictions of how indigenous tribes in the jungle live. The result is
fascinating, and the National Geographic lesson is enhanced by an
exciting tale of kidnapping, exploration, survival, and human trafficking!
Powers
Boothe is Bill, a high-ranking engineer with a corporation that is building a large
hydro-electric dam on the edge of the rain forest. He’s moved his family of a
wife and two young children—a boy and a girl—to the city. One day while
overseeing the work of clearing the area of trees, Bill and his family have a
picnic at the edge of the jungle. Little does he know that the “Invisible
People,” a tribe that has not had contact with civilization, has dared to get
close to what they refer to as “the edge of the world.” When Tommy wanders off,
he is kidnapped by the tribe. Bill thus embarks on a long process to search for
his son, but to no avail.
Ten
years later, Tommy (Charley Boorman) has assimilated into the tribe and become
one of the Invisible People. His “father” of the tribe (Rui Polanah) loves him
like a son, and Tommy loves him back, although he has dreams of “Daddy.” Now
Tommy is ready to take a mate, and he chooses young and beautiful Kachiri (Dira
Paes). Meanwhile Bill and a photographer embark deep into the jungle to look
for Tommy again. They encounter the hostile “Fierce People,” who force Bill to
become prey in a hunt through the jungle. Tommy ends up saving Bill, and the
real father and son reunite. Tommy, however, refuses to accompany Bill back to
his first home. And then the human traffickers enter the story. To say more
would spoil the tale!
There
is a lot of “Tarzan movie” aspects to this picture, but without the
unintentional racism. There is also a lot of nudity of all the indigenous
people on display, which received some criticism when the picture was released
(Dira Paes was only fifteen years old). However, this was not exploitation.
Boorman and his team took great pains to be accurate and truthful in the
depiction of the tribes’ customs and ways. Yes, the Fierce People are portrayed
as the villains and the Invisible People are ultimately shown to be good at
heart (even though they kidnapped a young white boy). There is indeed some idealism
and moral ambiguity going on in The Emerald Forest, especially when it
comes to the film’s climactic raid on a human trafficking center in the jungle.
Finally, there is the message that indigenous people are being wiped out by the
actions of white people who are cutting down rain forests.
Powers
Boothe does an admirable job here, but it is Charley Boorman (son of the
director) who steals the movie. He was around eighteen when the picture was
made, and he manages to speak the indigenous language, perform jungle stunts,
and carry on with his native costars as if he were one of them. Boorman’s
direction is notable, too, given the locale and the cast with whom he had to
work. Philippe Rousselot’s cinematography is also quite commendable.
Kino
Studio Classics’ new Blu-ray release is a welcome one, and its 1920x1080p
presentation is colorful and rich. There is an audio commentary by filmmaker
Edgar Pablos and film historian Nathaniel Thompson that sheds light on the
production. Supplements include the theatrical trailer and other Kino trailers. There is also reversible sleeve artwork.
The
Emerald Forest is
for fans of director John Boorman and of jungle exploration adventures.
Recommended.
(Three
Ages: 1923; Directed by Buster Keaton and Eddie Cline)
(Our
Hospitality: 1923; Directed by Buster Keaton and John G. Blystone)
(Cohen
Film Collection)
“KEATON
CLASSICS DOUBLE FEATURE”
By
Raymond Benson
The
availability of Buster Keaton on Blu-ray can be a head-scratcher. Kino Lorber
seems to have the monopoly on Keaton’s features and shorts, but the puzzlement
comes with more than one release of certain titles in Kino’s catalog of disks for
sale. Add to this befuddlement is the Cohen Media Group and their Cohen Film
Collection’s ownership of Keaton’s library. Cohen has also released Keaton
Blu-ray disks—and they’re distributed by Kino Lorber! (And still others
are released by Eureka Entertainment, licensed by Cohen!) Which editions are we
supposed to get?
A
new Cohen Film Collection release, available from Kino Lorber, is The Buster
Keaton Collection, Volume 5, which includes a double bill of the master
filmmaker’s 1923 features—Three Ages and Our Hospitality. (Also
available from Cohen Film Collection are Volumes 1 – 4, which likewise
contain double bills of Keaton’s features from the 1920s.)
Here
on the Cinema Retro site, I reviewed the Kino Lorber release of Our
Hospitality in 2019. Apparently the Kino versions are different
restorations from the Cohen’s restorations. The latter are performed by Cineteca
di Bologna as part of Cohen’s “Keaton Project.” Long ago, Cohen Media Group
acquired the rights from the Keaton estate, even though other companies have
had access to them. I won’t even attempt to sort out the rights issues here. Just
know that the Kino Our Hospitality disk had bonus features, whereas the
Cohen Film Collection double bill discussed here does not contain any
supplements aside from Cohen’s own trailer of Our Hospitality release
and other Cohen releases.
That
said, the Cohen restorations by the Keaton Project are likely the best to come
about. They look marvelous. Bonus features? Who needs supplements when the
feature films are the best quality available?
Three
Ages was
Buster Keaton’s first feature film (not counting The Saphead, 1920, in
which he only starred). Co-directed with Eddie Cline, Keaton presents the
“story of love,” i.e., courtship, in three different time periods—the stone
age, the Roman age, and modern times (the 1920s, of course). The same cast
portrays the same character types in each story, and the film narrative jumps
back and forth between these time periods throughout the run of the picture. Keaton
stars as the “lesser” man when compared to his more attractive, manly, and
wealthier rival played by Wallace Beery. The woman who is the object of both
men’s affection is played by Margaret Leahy (the actress made only one film,
and this is it). Beery’s character is a bully, and Keaton must overcome the
man’s physical strength and social standing with cunning and trickery. There is
certainly amusement and clever bits here, but Three Ages could be called
baby steps for Keaton as a feature filmmaker when compared to later works. Three
Ages was perhaps the Keaton film most in need for preservation, as there
are many instances—a few seconds here and there—in which visual elements are
deteriorated. The restoration folks have done the best they could, and this is
probably the finest you will ever see Three Ages. The lively score for
this release is composed and conducted by Rodney Sauer.
Of
more importance and interest is Our Hospitality, considered one of
Keaton’s greatest works, and it was only his second feature (it is co-directed
by John G. Blystone). The story takes place in the early 1800s and draws upon a
rural family feud like the Hatfields and McCoys—in this case the McKays and
Canfields. When patriarch John McKay is killed by James Canfield (and vice
versa), Mrs. McKay flees with little baby Willie McKay (played by Buster’s
real-life infant son, Buster Keaton Jr.). Twenty years later, Willie inherits
the old family estate in the south and returns to claim it, only vaguely aware
of the feud that has existed for decades. On the way he meets Virginia (played
by Keaton’s wife at the time, Natalie Talmadge), who happens to be a Canfield.
Upon arrival at home, Willie continues to court Virginia, but her brothers
won’t have it. The rest of the picture is a cats-and-mouse game of Willie
avoiding being killed and at the same time wooing the woman he wants to marry.
There
are many striking aspects about the picture. Keaton’s paid great attention to
detail in the design and location shooting. Apparently, he took great pains to
create realistic locomotives and tracks that depicted early train development
in America (although he played with time period accuracy for the sake of more
interesting visuals). The final act contains some spectacular and hair-raising
stunt work by the star, including an incident of falling into rapids and almost
drowning on camera. Mostly, though, the story is well-constructed, the
characters have more depth than in the other silent comedies of the day, and,
in the end, Our Hospitality is one of Keaton’s most satisfying movies.
Interestingly,
it’s the only Keaton film to feature three generations of Keatons—Buster
himself, his previously-mentioned son, and his father, Joe Keaton, as a train
engineer.
The
Cohen presentation here is gorgeous and near perfect. Carl Davis supplied the
wonderful musical score that accompanies it.
For
Buster Keaton fans, you can’t go wrong with this double bill release (nor with
the Cohen Film Collection’s other four volumes). Highly recommended.
RETRO-ACTIVE: MEMORABLE ARTICLES FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES
By
Hank Reineke
In September of 2021 I attended Manhattan’s Quad Cinema screening
of Thomas Hamilton’s affectionate documentary Boris Karloff: the Man Behind the Monster.As a life-long fan of the actor - and the
owner of dozens of books examining the actor’s career in film, stage and radio
- this was the sort of career-spanning appraisal I was hoping to someday
see.Then, only a few weeks following
that theatrical screening, Cinema Retro
was provided a stream of the doc for critical review.This enabled me to watch the film a second
time, revisiting bits of commentary I had missed or recalled only hazily.At the time the stream was provided to Cinema Retro, it was still uncertain if Boris Karloff: The Man Behind the Monster
would be offered on physical media.That
question was answered in October 2022 when the film became available as a two-disc
combo Blu ray/DVD set from Voltage Films/Abramorama.
In the sixteen-page booklet that’s included in the set, director
Hamilton advises both he and scripter Ronald MacCloskey originally envisioned
their Karloff doc as a bold “4-hour, 2-part film or a 6 part miniseries.”They certainly had enough material to do so,
with a reported 60+ hours of interviews involving no fewer than fifty-five
subjects.And, that sixty hours of
recorded interviews, of course, didn’t include the footage gleaned from
Karloff’s fabled filmography.
While you’re not going to find some sixty-odd hours of
extras on this release,the set does suggest that it offers an expanded
director’s cut (titled on packaging - but not on the film itself - as Boris Karloff: The Rest of the Story).This is a bit curious.The version screened theatrically at the Quad
ran 103 minutes – at least as per its billing at the cinema.The
Rest of the Story disc runs one hour and forty-three minutes.Which, if my math skills haven’t failed,
equals the same 103 minutes of running time.
Of course the new set does feature two additional bonus
selections.The first, Meeting Boris Karloff, is, truthfully,
not a terribly essential addition, but not uninteresting.It’s an offering of fourteen minutes of interview/commentary
by three figures a bit tangential to Karloff’s legend.Of the trio, author and film historian Kevin
Brownlow shares his reminisce of his November 1964 interview with Karloff.He recalls Karloff as an interesting
interviewee – one who wasn’t remiss to take issue or correct erroneous information
found in the press clippings Brownlow had collected.But he noted Karloff always challenged misinformation
in a gentlemanly manner.
Andrew Pratt, described as a “great nephew” of the actor,
then shyly recounts his one and only meeting with his great uncle.He credits that meeting as inspiration to
pursue a career in film art direction – a career that would earn him a number
of nominations and awards from the Academy, BAFTA, and the Art Directors
Guild.The last subject interviewed was
Anthony Bilbow, a television host of BBC-2’s Late Night Line-Up. His only real connection to Karloff was when
the actor was a guest on the program, September of 1968.He recalls Karloff as a gentleman kind and
warm, modest and self-effacing – but not in a “counterfeit” sort of way.
The final bonus feature of the set is a three-minute
interview with the co-scriptwriter of Boris
Karloff: the Man Behind the Monster, Ron MacCloskey.This New Jersey-based writer and comedian
fell under Karloff’s spell at age seven, having caught Frankenstein on a late night TV telecast.A collector of Frankenstein memorabilia,
MacCloskey’s interest in Karloff’s work proved lifelong and ultimately led to
his teaming with director Thomas Hamilton to start shooting this documentary in
2018.
If the doc itself is truly an expanded version of the original,
it doesn’t really change or radically alter anything presented in the
theatrical cut.I’m more than willing to
stand corrected if indeed, the doc is offered here in an expanded form.My frame-by-frame memories of those 2021
screenings are all a bit hazy now, so I can’t say with any certainty if extra
footage/commentary was included.But, if
you missed it the first time, I’ll tack on my original “streaming” review of
October of 2021.I very much enjoyed the
doc on its original run and my opinion of its merit has not changed at all.Read on, should you wish:
There’s a telling moment at the dénouement of Thomas
Hamilton’s and Ron MacCloskey’s affectionate documentary Boris Karloff: The Man behind the Monster.Sara Karloff, the now eighty-two year old daughter
of the beloved actor, opines that her father’s lasting cinematic legacy is due,
in part, to the tenaciousness of his devoted fan base.It’s a demographic that we soon discover
consists of a number of amazingly creative people: folks whose loyalty to and
enthusiasm for Karloff’s work has not wavered over the decades.Sara’s contention is inarguably true.As this ninety-nine minute Voltage
Films/Abramorama documentary unspools – crisply narrated by Paul Ryan and
featuring commentary by preeminent Karloff scholar and “Biographical
Consultant” Stephen Jacobs - we discover the actor’s admirer’s bridge several
generations of fans and filmmakers.
The first generation to discover Karloff in the decades
following his big splash as the Frankenstein monster in 1931, include directors
Roger Corman and Peter Bogdanovich.Both
men would have the opportunity and honor to work with the actor in his twilight
years.The second generation of admirers
were those introduced to Karloff via neighborhood cinema screenings or through
television broadcasts of Shock Theater
in the late 1950s/early 1960s.
These filmmakers, profoundly influenced by Karloff’s art,
would go on to create a few cinematic gems of their own:John Landis, Joe Dante, and Guillermo Del
Toro, to name a few.The latter
gentleman is particularly effusive in his praise, describing Karloff’s
performance as the vampiric Wurdalak
in Mario Bava’s Black Sabbath as a
“tremendous” example of the great actor’s “physical presence, his majesty, his
demonic power.”
If the documentary is chock-full of talented filmmakers offering
tributes, the film is also supported by the erudite commentaries of film
scholars David J. Skal (The Monster Show:
a Cultural History of Horror), Gregory W. Mank (Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff: the Expanded Story of a Haunting
Collaboration), Donald F. Glut (The
Frankenstein Legend: a tribute to Mary Shelley and Boris Karloff), Sir
Christopher Frayling (Frankenstein: the
first Two Hundred Years), and critic Leonard Maltin.
There are also short tributes and reminisces by several
actors – three now gone - who had worked with Karloff at some point in their
career: Dick Miller (The Terror),
Christopher Plummer (The Lark, Even the Weariest River), Ian Ogilvy (The Sorcerers), and Orson Bean (Arsenic and Old Lace).Karloff’s tells part of his own story through
audio recordings made available to the filmmakers courtesy of the British cinema
historian/author Kevin Brownlow (The
Parades Gone By…) and the Pacifica Radio Archive.
It has long annoyed me that when one searches out the
term “Boris Karloff” in the ever-expanding IMDB, the resulting prompt
identifies the actor’s signature film as The
Grinch that Stole Christmas (1966).My daughters would remind me that my personal agitation of this result is,
by definition, a “first world” problem, one hardly worthy of condemnation.But as cinema’s preeminent boogeyman for four
decades, seeing Karloff’s storied career reduced to a role featuring only his
disembodied voice as the Grinch… Well, let’s just say that I still find it somewhat
misleading and inappropriate.
Be that as it may, Hamilton’s film reminds Karloff
himself might disagree with my wariness of the Grinch being bandied as the
cinematic crown jewel of the actor’s legacy.Sara Karloff recalls receiving a phone call from her father immediately
following his recording of the narration for that beloved Dr. Seuss vehicle.The actor we learn was profoundly happy with
his work on the now-famous animated holiday classic, telling his daughter
proudly, “I’ve done something which I think is pretty good.”
Karloff would pass away a couple of years following the
first broadcast of The Grinch that Stole
Christmas, but he worked to the very end of his days, appearing in a number
of memorable – and a few less-than-memorable – films, several of which would see
release in years following his passing.His last films were little more than cameo-length appearances shot on a
Hollywood sound stage.It was director
Jack Hill’s idea to take the Karloff footage from these shoots and blend the
results into a series of Mexican horror films.
Karloff, rightly and proudly, would choose to refer to
his spell-binding turn as the semi-autobiographical aging horror film actor Byron
Orlok in Bogdanovich’s Targets (1968)
as his feature film swan song.Technically,
it wasn’t.But the brief appearances in that
post- Target series of Hollywood-Mexico
co-production mash-ups were mostly an excuse for an old pro to continue to ply
his trade and keep busy.But working
oxygen-tank dependent and wheelchair bound on the Jack Hill-directed sequences,
Karloff was prevented from doing much of anything with the already somewhat
cut-and-paste material given to him.
Karloff, of course, was not the only “horror film” star
of the genre’s celebrated Golden Age of the 1930s and 40s. Karloff, we learn, was actually not happy with
the designation “horror movie”, much preferring his films to be termed as
“thrillers” or “shock” pictures. His contemporary competitor as grand ghoul of
the horror film - one whose own legacy would burn bright into the next century -
was Bela Lugosi.Although Lugosi had too
often played second-fiddle to Karloff in matters of employment and billing, the
Hungarian’s post-mortem fame may have eclipsed his friend’s star over the last few
decades.
For starters, Lugosi’s sad and lurid dependency on morphine
and alcohol in his final years made him the subject of tabloid fodder, and
gossip then – and now – still rules.Lugosi’s
slow demise coupled with his appearances in several of Edward J. Wood’s revered
cult films brought him a big degree of post-mortem fame.A brand new generation would discover the
actor through Martin Landau’s Oscar-winning turn as Lugosi in Tim Burton’s
semi-biographical drama Ed Wood.
To be fair, Lugosi’s string of mad performances in Wood’s
Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957), Bride of the Monster (1955), and Glen or Glenda (1953) are, in many ways,
were no less better or worse or more undistinguished than Karloff’s walk-ons in
the creaky Jack Hill/Mexi-horror films of spring 1968. Though both sets of films are passably
entertaining in their own uneven, cult-ish ways, both actor’s cinematic exits
were ignoble ends to these two great men who famously made audiences shiver in
1931.
James Whale’s Frankenstein
would ultimately transform Karloff into a full-fledged movie star, but it had
been a long road to achieving such fame.The actor had been working on various Hollywood backlots since the
silent era.In the course of his
earliest silent film efforts – beginning with such titles as The Lightning Raider (1919) and His Majesty, the American (1919) – he
worked as little more than an extra.His
subsequent fame would cause a score of budding film historians to carefully
survey battered old prints of Karloff’s earliest filmography in the often
futile hope of catching a glimpse as he passed by the camera.
In truth, his decade-long career as a silent film actor
was mostly non consequential.He would
appear in approximately sixty or so silent films between 1919 and 1929.He would, on occasion, be gifted a role of
some heft, most notably as that of “The Mesmerist” in The Bells (1926) opposite Lionel Barrymore, but he was most often
cast in adventure-orientated serials as a heavy, or as a Hindu, Mexican or an Arab,
a mystic or a general ne’er-do-well.
It was his casting as the sadistic “Galloway” in Howard
Hawk’s sound prison drama The Criminal
Code (1930) that brought him to the attention of Universal executives
looking to cast a suitably cadaverous-appearing actor as the Frankenstein
monster.Following Lugosi’s rejection of
the part due to the absence of dialogue afforded, Bela’s pass on the role was
fortuitous for Karloff.He was still hungry
and looking for that big break.Although
the role of the monster would forever typecast him, the actor remained forever
grateful for having taking the role in Frankenstein,
once describing the career door-opening creature as “the best friend I ever
had.”
It’s not hard to see why Karloff’s portrayal of the
monster remains the preeminent of the Universal series.He was, after all, the only actor to have
been given the opportunity to actually act and emote, to bring a sense of pathos
to the role.He was abetted, of course,
by Jack Pierce’s iconic make-up which, rather than masking, cannily sculpted
and made highlight of Karloff’s facial features and sunken cheeks.This gave the monster, according to one of
the participants in the documentary, a “full expression range.”The trio of actors who would subsequently
portray the monster in the Universal series simply weren’t given the
opportunity to apply any emotive effect of their own.Even by Son
of Frankenstein (1939), the third film in the series, the screenwriters had
already reduced the monster into little more than a hulking, lumbering menace
and henchman.
It is discouraging to learn that when Frankenstein had its gala premiere in
the autumn of 1931, Karloff was not even invited to attend.He was already forty-four years of age when
he assumed the role, a no-name celebrity and hardly a handsome matinee idol of
any recognition.The unexpected
phenomenal success of Frankenstein
would change all that, and Universal was quick to capitalize on the actor’s
sudden notoriety as Hollywood’s most beloved boogeyman.Karloff’s natural proclivity for taking on
roles of menacing villainous characters with icy stares would allow his casting
into a string of Golden Age horror classics – not only for Universal but for
other studios as well, including memorable turn in MGM’s The Mask of Fu Manchu.The
latter remains a great, entertaining film… if undeniably one of the most
politically-incorrect lavish big studio productions of the 1930s.
When the market for horror films softened in the
mid-1940s – thanks, in part, due to the horror genre’s continuing perceived transgressions
of the Hays Code - Karloff easily transitioned to character roles, where,
according to his daughter, her father’s natural “dark coloring,” permitted him
to slip easily into “ethnic roles.”As
one of the founders of the Screen Actors Guild, he was able to exercise his
freelance status by working for, amongst others, RKO, Columbia, Monogram, and
Warner Bros.
Another avenue of opportunity had presented itself around
this same time.In 1941 Karloff was
lured, against his better judgement according to this film, to take on the Broadway
role of the villainous Jonathan Brewster in Joseph L. Kesselring’s stage play Arsenic and Old Lace.It was to his life-long disappointment that a
clause in his theatrical stage contract prevented his returning to Hollywood –
as did several fellow members of the original Broadway cast – to reprise the
role for the much beloved Frank Capra film adaptation of 1944.
Though initially frightened to work in theatre before a
live audience, the success of Arsenic
emboldened Karloff to accept several other roles in such Broadway productions as
The Lark (with Julie Harris), The Linden Tree, The Shop at Sly Corner, and even in a memorable turn as Captain
Hook in a 1950 production of Peter Pan.Fortunately, we of a certain age who missed
out still can get a small taste of what we missed since kinescopes survive from
early Hallmark Hall of Fame
broadcasts of the original production of The
Lark and a 1961 re-staging of Arsenic
and Old Lace.
Though Karloff’s work in radio is mostly ignored in this
documentary, the film does take pains to point out that he was among the first
movie stars of his generation to fully embrace television.Though he would often appear in serious
televisions drams for such programs as Texaco
Star Theater or Playhouse 90, he
was not above spoofing his own curious fame as Hollywood’s grandest ghoul on
any number of variety programs hosted by the likes of Red Skelton or Dinah
Shore.
(Stefanie Powers and Robert Vaughn with Karloff in "The Mother Muffin Affair" on "The Girl from U.N.C.L.E." (Photo: Cinema Retro Archives)
In the 1960s, he would famously host (and occasionally
act) in episodes of the television program Thriller,
or appear in drag as “Mother Muffin” in an episode of The Girl from U.N.C.L.E – or with former U.N.C.L.E. agent Robert
Vaughn in the spy-film The Venetian
Affair (1966).Joe Dante also
references the series of wonderful long-playing albums Karloff would record
over the years, his unmistakable, lisping voice introducing children to a wonderful
selection of folk tales, ghost stories, Washington Irving classics, and
time-worn fables.
Boris
Karloff: the Man behind the Monster reminds us that the actor (1887-1969)
accomplished a lot in his eighty-one-years, a large percentage of which would
encompass appearances on screen, on stage, on air, on record, and on
television.To their credit, the
filmmakers share what they can in the constraint of the film’ ninety-nine
minute running time, and the film certainly succeeds as an excellent
primer.Karloff wonks like myself might
hold out hope that a multi-part, Ken Burns-style series might someday be put
into the works, but I imagine that’s unlikely.One hundred and thirty four years have passed since Karloff’s birth.The fact that contemporary audiences remain completely
entranced by his filmography in 2021 is testament enough to the worthiness of
this loving tribute painting him as one of Hollywood’s greatest.
Supernatural Horror Classic, The
Devil’s Partner (1961) Newly Restored 4K Special Edition
Includes Newly Restored Bonus
Film, Creature From the Haunted Sea (1961)
On Blu-ray & DVD Jan. 16th
Special Features Includes New Interview With Roger Corman
ROCKPORT, Mass. — January 2024 — For Immediate Release — Vintage film restoration and distribution company Film Masters continues its tribute to the pope of pop cinema, Roger Corman, with the third installment of The Filmgroup series on Blu-ray and DVD, The Devil’s Partner, available Jan. 16.
Corman and his brother, Gene, founded The Filmgroup to distribute their own films. While the company did produce the majority of its films, including the cult classic Creature From the Haunted Sea, it also occasionally acquired projects by other filmmakers, as is the case with The Devil's Partner (1961). From director Charles R. Rondeau, the film is a macabre tale of an elderly man who regains his youth after making a deal with the devil.During the summer and fall of 1961, the two films were often paired as a double feature.
Half Man, Half Beast, He Sold his Soul for Passion — Director/actor Edgar Buchanan (best known as Uncle Joe on Petticoat Junction)
appears in this supernatural thriller about an old codger trying to
reclaim his youth, employing black magic to lure a woman away from his
rival. The film also stars Jean Allison,Richard Crane and Ed Nelson.
This well-crafted, independent feature has been hailed for its
atmosphere and as a pioneering film in the devil worshiping subgenre
made popular in the ‘70s.
Made in 1958, The Devil’s Partnerlanguished with no release date until it was picked up and distributed by The Filmgroup, becoming a steady presence on the drive-in circuit, often appearing in tandem with Creature from Haunted Sea, another Corman classic from the golden age of drive-in schlock.
This spoof of spy/gangsters/monster movies stars Anthony Carbone
as a gangster and smuggler who decides to kill members of the ship’s
bungling crew and blame their deaths on a legendary sea creature. What
he doesn’t know is that the creature is actually out there!Also starring Betsy Jones-Moreland and Academy Award-winning screenwriter Robert Towne (Chinatown) under the pseudonym Edward Wain.
?
The film was conceived when Corman finished shooting The Last Woman on Earth in Puerto Rico and discovered he had enough film left over to make another film. He enlisted long-time associate Charles B. Griffith,
who—legend goes—had six days to write the script. Ever the pragmatist
when it came to budget, Corman recruited locals to appear in this film
as extras.
Special Features:Commentary for The Devil’s Partner is by Larry Strothe, James Gonis, Shawn Sheridan and Matt Weinhold of the Monster Party podcast; theatrical-length commentary for Creature From the Haunted Sea
is by fan favorite Tom Weaver, with contributions from Roger Corman,
Kinta Zertuche and Larry Blamire. Weaver also provides the liner notes
for the film. Ballyhoo Motion Picturescontributes Hollywood Intruders: The Filmgroup Story
with Part III of the story, as well as their new interview with Roger
Corman on the formation of The Filmgroup; recut trailers, based on the
original theatrical trailers; original Creature From the Haunted Sea theatrical trailer (from 16mm archival elements scanned in 4k); and a full essay for The Devil’s Partner by author Mark McGee.
Both films are presented with a theatrical aspect ratio of 1.85:1, as well as in a 1.37:1 television format. The televised version of Creature From the Haunted Seaincludes anadditional
15 minutes of footage shot years later to extend the film for a sale to
Allied Artists. Discs are region free and include English SDH.Audio is DTS-HD/Dolby AC3s.
"Young Billy Young" is the kind of film of which it can be said, "They don't make 'em like that anymore". Not because the movie is so exceptional. In fact, it isn't exceptional on any level whatsoever. Rather, it's the sheer ordinariness of the entire production that makes one pine away for an era in which top talent could be attracted to enjoyable, if unremarkable, fare such as this. Such films, especially Westerns, were churned out with workmanlike professionalism to play to undemanding audiences that didn't require mega-budget blockbusters to feel they got their money's worth at the boxoffice. Sadly, such movies have largely gone the way of the dodo bird. In today's film industry, bigger must always be better and mid-range flicks such as are no longer made. However, through streaming services such as ScreenPix, it's possible to still enjoy the simple pleasures that such movies provide. (The Kino Lorber Blu-ray is now out of print.)
The story opens with botched robbery in Mexico committed by Billy Young (Robert Walker) and some cohorts including Jesse (David Carradine). The plan to steal horses from the Mexican military goes awry and Billy is forced to split from his fellow robbers with the army in hot pursuit. Making his way back across the border to New Mexico, he is penniless and desperate. He has a chance encounter with Ben Kane (Robert Mitchum), a tough, sarcastic older man who he encounters again in a nearby town. Here, Billy is being cheated at cards by the local sheriff, who goads him into a gunfight. Billy ends up killing him but stands to be framed for the sheriff's death. He's saved by Ben, who rides along with him to another town where Ben has agreed to take on the job of lawman. Ostensibly he is there to keep order and collect back taxes from deadbeats but in reality, he is on a mission of revenge. Some years before, Ben's son had been gunned down by a criminal named Boone (John Anderson) and Kane has learned that Boone is a presence in the new town and that he is being protected by a local corrupt businessman, John Behan (Jack Kelly). Ben makes his presence known immediately by enforcing the law in a strict manner. He's confronted by Behan, who tries to intimidate him. This results in Behan being slapped around by Kane. Behan also grows to resent the new lawman because he is flirting with his mistress, saloon entertainer Lily Beloit (Angie Dickinson). When Behan abuses her as punishment, he gets another beating from Kane. Meanwhile, Billy runs into Jesse and accuses him of having deserted him in Mexico. The two men fight it out and Jesse is later involved with the accidental shooting of the town's beloved doctor while in the employ of Behan. Kane learns that Jesse is Boone's son and holds him in jail as bait for Boone to come out of hiding. The plan works all too well. Boone turns up with a small army and lays siege to the jailhouse where Kane and Billy are holed up.
"Young Billy Young" was compared to a TV show by New York Times critic Howard Thompson on the basis that it contains so many standard elements of westerns from this time period. There is the bad girl with the heart of gold, the evil business tycoon, the brash young gun and his wiser, older mentor, the heroes outnumbered by superior forces and a lovable old coot (played against type by Paul Fix in full Walter Brennan/Gabby Hayes mode.) Yet somehow it all works very well, thanks mostly to Robert Mitchum's stalwart presence. With his trademark ramrod stiff walk and cool persona, Mitchum tosses off bon mots like a frontier version of 007. Even the Times acknowledged that "Mitchum can do laconic wonders with a good wise-crack". He has considerable chemistry with Dickinson, though the action between the sheets is more implied than shown. Robert Walker Jr. acquits himself well in the title role and David Carradine makes an impression even with limited screen time. The film was directed by Burt Kennedy, an old hand at directing fine westerns in reliable, if not remarkable, style and it all culminates in a rip-snorting shoot-out that is genuinely exciting. The fine supporting cast includes Willis Bouchey, Parley Baer and Deanna Martin (Dino's daughter) in her acting debut. One oddball element to the film: Mitchum croons the title song over the opening credits. If this sounds strange, keep in mind that Mitchum improbably once had a hit album of calypso music.
The film is currently streaming on ScreenPix, which is available to Amazon Prime customers for $2.99 a month.
RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES
By Lee Pfeiffer
There has been a very positive response to Cinema Retro's coverage of
"B" WWII movies in some of our back issues. Writer Howard Hughes concentrated on the films produced by Oakmont Productions, the
British-based company that financed and released such modestly-budgeted
gems as Attack on the Iron Coast, The Thousand Plane Raid, Hell Boats,
and Mosquito Squadron. These films had no lofty pretenses of being
potential Oscar winners. Instead, they were made simply to generate a
modest profit. However, they tended to be intelligently scripted and
well-directed and acted, with showcase roles afforded to stars who
didn't usually get top-billing (Lloyd Bridges, Christopher George, David
McCallum). The 1970 film Underground was not an Oakmont production but
is largely indistinguishable from the company's catalog of titles. It
stars Robert Goulet as Dawson, an embittered American agent for military
intelligence who is based in England. Dawson is wracked by guilt
because his mission behind German lines in occupied France ended
disastrously. Both he and his fellow agent (his wife) were captured.
Dawson, under extreme torture, revealed his wife's true identity and she
suffered a horrendous death at the hands of the Gestapo. Dawson managed
to escape and make his way back to England, though how he achieved this
remarkable feat is glossed over in the script. The film opens with
Dawson bluffing his way aboard a plane carrying a fellow agent on a new
mission over occupied France. Dawson, who is determined to atone for his
previous failure by taking on this mission himself, disables the agent
and parachutes in his place to meet his contacts in the French
Resistance. His French underground colleagues find him to be a bitter,
unpleasant man and it isn't long before they realize that he is an
imposter for their real contact. Nevertheless, Dawson persuades them to
let him carry out the important mission which involves kidnapping a high
profile German general who has vital intelligence information and
bringing him back to England. Dawon's team is headed by Boule (Lawrence
Dobkin), a headstrong and valiant man who frequently locks horns with
Dobson over strategy. The team also includes Yvonne (Daniele Gaubert), a
beautiful agent who is Boule's wife. Complications ensue when Dawson
shows his more human side and he and Yvonne secretly become lovers.
Underground is the kind of film that often receives the backhanded
praise of benefiting from "workmanlike" efficiency from its stars and
director Arthur H. Nadel. Yet, like the Oakmont productions, it probably
plays better in today's era of overblown, CGI-stuffed action movies
than it did at the time of its initial release. The film is tightly
scripted and the plan to capture the German general is straight out of a
top-of-the-line Mission: Impossible episode. The movie was shot on
location in Ireland but the countryside passes convincingly for France.
Goulet, grim and determined, makes for an impressive leading man and
there are fine turns by Lawrence Dobkin and Carl Duering, who is
impressive as the German general who adds a clever plot twist to the
story line. Like most of these WWII mini "epics" of the period, the
production team manages to make the film look far more expensive than it
probably was. The action sequences are exciting and well-staged,
particularly a climactic shootout as Dawson awaits the arrival of a
British plane on a makeshift runway as German forces close in on him and
his team.
Underground has been released by MGM as a region-free DVD with a rather bland cover design instead of the terrific original poster artwork. Transfer quality is very good but there are no bonus extras.
We basically
became friends because we both loved The Prisoner. They were showing the
series on Channel 4 for its 25th anniversary; we were both hooked and stayed
hooked, too. As with a lot of people, the tedium and restrictions of lockdown
led us to consider the idea of a podcast. There were a few Prisoner
podcasts already out there, but they were either a bit dry and professorial or
strangely dismissive. One frustrating aspect was the apocryphal information
that had cemented itself as part of Prisoner lore, we really wanted to
set the record straight where we could.
The ‘Free For
All’ podcast was an absolute hoot to make, and it brought us into contact with
loads of Prisoner devotees from around the world. We’d expected a bit of
pushback from a certain type of social media gatekeeper, but there was
absolutely none. Plus, we got to interview Prisoner stars Derren Nesbitt
and Jane Merrow, which was a thrill.
The problem with
making a podcast about something as finite as a 17-episode TV series is that
once it’s done, it’s done. We’ve made some specials (a Columbo episode
and a look at Danger Man aka Secret Agent) and have more in the
works, but ultimately, we were Prisoner-ed out.
We thought that
what we’d recorded had the makings of an entertaining book. It had to be more
than just a transcription of what we’d said in the podcast, but we did
incorporate some of that element into the text to give it a conversational
feel. With the book, as well as the podcast, we wanted readers to feel that
they were hanging out with like-minded friends. This was also an opportunity to
create an entry point for new viewers by injecting contemporary connections and
a lot of humour, making it accessible to everyone.
We also felt that
we’d uncovered things about The Prisoner that didn’t seem to be covered
in any of the literature or ongoing discussions. We have some theories about
the controversial final episode ‘Fall Out’, that we think, are quite unique and
stand up to scrutiny better than many of the tired 1960s drug culture theories.
As much as the book is a deliberately fun and entertaining read (even if your
memory of The Prisoner is a bit rusty), it holds its own as critical
analysis of a much-discussed series.
(L to R: Authors Chris Bainbridge & Cai Ross.)
There were a few
obstacles to overcome, mainly in the form of rights issues. Necessity being the
mother of invention, we created a Prisoner-ish original, with the
invaluable help of Alan Hayes, the book’s designer, Prisoner expert Rick
Davy and talented graphic artist Jemima Duncalf, who illustrated it.
I hope that it
will sit snugly on the shelf in amongst the grand tomes that make up The
Prisoner library. It’s a testament to the enduring fascination of Patrick
McGoohan’s extraordinary series that the number of books written about it is
still growing nearly sixty years after it first appeared.
THE
FUGITIVECOMES
TO 4K ULTRA HD BLU-RAYTM AND DIGITAL
THE
1993 ACTION THRILLER FILM STARRING HARRISON FORD AND TOMMY LEE JONES WILL BE
AVAILABLE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 4K RESOLUTION WITH HIGH DYNAMIC RANGE (HDR)
Purchase
the film on 4K Ultra HD Disc and Digital November 21
Burbank, Calif., October 4, 2023 – As part of the
year-long centennial celebration for the 100th anniversary of Warner Bros.
Studio, the acclaimed action thriller film The Fugitive from director
Andrew Davis (A Perfect Murder, Holes) will be available for purchase on 4K
Ultra HD Disc and Digital for the first time on November 21.
Celebrating the 30th anniversary of its 1993
release, The Fugitive will be available to purchase on November
21 on Ultra HD Blu-ray Disc from online and in-store at major retailers and
available for purchase Digitally from Amazon Prime Video, AppleTV, Google Play,
Vudu and more.
The Fugitive stars Academy Award nominee Harrison
Ford as Dr. Richard Kimble and Tommy Lee Jones as Deputy U.S. Marshall Sam
Gerard, for which he won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. The
film also stars Sela Ward, Joe Pantoliano, Andreas Katsulas, and Jeroen
Krabbé.
Directed by Davis from a screenplay by Jeb Stuart and
David Twohy from a story by Twohy, the film is based the television series “The
Fugitive” which was created by Roy Huggins and ran from 1963 to 1967. The film
was produced by Arnold Koppelson.
The Fugitive was nominated for 7 Academy Awards
including Best Picture and Best Supporting Actor, for which Jones won the
award, and Best Original Score.
The Fugitive will be available on Ultra HD Blu-ray
Disc for $33.99 ERP and includes an Ultra HD Blu-ray disc with the
theatrical version of the feature film in 4K with HDR and a Digital download of
the film. Fans can also own The Fugitive in 4K Ultra HD via purchase
from select digital retailers beginning on November 21.
The 4K restoration of The Fugitive was
completed at Warner Bros. Discovery’s Motion Picture Imaging (MPI) and was
sourced from the original camera negative. The restoration was overseen
by director Andrew Davis.
About the Film
The Fugitive Ultra HD Blu-ray disc contains the
following previously released special features:
Paperback
Street Date: October 5, 2023
Size: 229mm x 152mm
Pages: 434
Illos: 64 B&W stills and ads
ISBN: 978-1-915316-09-7
RRP: UK£22.99
Review by
Adrian Smith
One
of the most important and influential television writers of the twentieth
century, Nigel Kneale has enjoyed something of a resurgence in popularity of
late. Headpress published the biography Into the Unknown by Andy Murray
(not the tennis player) a few years ago, Electric Dreamhouse published a lavish
collection of essays on his legacy called We Are the Martians, Comma
Press reissued his collection of short stories Tomato Cain last year,
and now Headpress again brings us this dense, information-packed study of his
1970s folk horror-inflected (before the term ‘folk horror’ had been invented) anthology
show Beasts. This attention is well deserved: Nigel Kneale wrote the
screenplay for the groundbreaking 1954 BBC production of 1984 before creating
The Quatermass Experiment, a show that was so popular that pubs across
the country would empty as people ran home to watch it. Quickly followed by Quatermass
II and what was arguably the best of the three, Quatermass and the Pit,
these shows were hugely important in the early history of television, and Nigel
Kneale’s name was forever associated with science fiction and horror. The
sixties proved to be a bit more difficult for him after some issues he had with
the BBC, but there was still some amazing work, such as The Year of the Sex
Olympics, which effectively predicted the rise of Big Brother and Survival-type
reality shows.
In
the mid-1970s he was commissioned by ATV, one of the independent commercial
stations that formed part of the ITV network, to write a show loosely connected
by a single theme. There were many such shows in the 1970s, often hung on one
writer’s work and with a horror focus, such as Roald Dahl’s Tales of the Unexpected
or Brian Clemens’ Thriller. The six episodes of Beasts, plus
pilot episode ‘Murrain,’ had some form of animalistic connection and explored
strange and unexplained phenomena; a couple besieged by rats, a ghostly
dolphin, an actor becoming obsessed with the monster he plays in a film, a pet
shop owner conducting werewolf experiments, a shopgirl whose telekinesis
manifests as a destructive rodent, and a family who discover a mummified animal
in the walls of their new home. These were unique, disturbing and memorable
television dramas that undoubtedly made for memorable viewing experiences, and
they have remained influential to this day.
Screen’s
new book on Beasts is a well-researched piece of work. The author has
had access to production records, scripts and other ephemera, and he also
covers the wider social and historical context around the subject of each
episode as well as the critical and public response. It’s an incredibly deep
dive and one which will keep fans of the show, and of strange 1970s British
television in general, thoroughly engrossed. It is not a book to read if you
have yet to see Beasts however, so do seek out the DVD collection, enjoy
its equal levels of nostalgia and creeping dread, and then dig into The Book
of Beasts to discover everything you could ever want to know about this
series and its impact on popular culture.
Horror films featuring either attached, murderous
hands with minds of their own or just a homicidal, disembodied hand on the
loose have been around since the early days of cinema. Classic films like The Hands of Orlac (1924), it’s 1935
remake, Mad Love, as well as The Beast with Five Fingers (1946) and Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors (1965) are
just a few that immediately come to mind.
After the phenomenal success of 1973’s The Exorcist, a plethora of demonic
possession films flooded theater screens, creating a popular cycle of movies
which consisted of, amongst other things, satanic possession and the power of
good (usually in the form of a Catholic priest) to stop it. Titles such as Beyond the Door (1974), Abby (1974) and The Omen (1976) quickly followed, with the first two, although
thoroughly entertaining, aping The
Exorcist quite a bit. Unfortunately, there were also many films that were
merely unenjoyable and stale Exorcist
cash-ins. However, in 1981, a low-budget filmmaker smartly combined the
homicidal hand idea with satanic possession and created a fun, little cult film
called Demonoid.
While in Mexico, Mark Baines (Chinatown’sRoy Jenson) unwittingly unleashes an ancient evil in the form of a
severed hand. The hand immediately possesses Mark and wreaks havoc until the
poor man is killed and the demonic hand is separated from his dead body. Once
free, the hand continues to possess anyone it comes across, leaving a trail of
blood in its wake. With the help of benevolent Irish priest, Father Cunningham
(Stuart Whitman from Eaten Alive), Mark’s
wife, Jennifer (The Brood’ sSamantha Eggar), does everything in her
power to try and stop the evil hand before more innocent blood is spilled.
The fun film features two Academy Award nominees:
Samantha Eggar (for 1965’s The Collector)and Stuart Whitman (for 1961’s The Mark). Needless to say, Eggar and
Whitman are both convincing due to taking their roles and the premise of the film
seriously. This only helps the audience to believe in it as well, therefore
making the film even more enjoyable. Fans of 60s/70s cinema and television will
also be happy to spot highly recognizable character actor (and sometime
stuntman) Roy Jenson from Our Man Flint,The Getaway, The Gauntlet, Kung Fu and
Star Trek, just to name a few. Last, but not least, actor/stuntman Ted
White (Starman), who is best known to
genre fans for playing our favorite hockey-masked slasher-killer, Jason
Voorhees in 1984’s Friday the 13th:
The Final Chapter, shows up as an unfortunate victim of the hand’s deadly
rampage.
Filmmaker Alfredo Zacarias’ idea for Demonoid sprang from a desire to make a
film about the good and evil that dwells within every person. Combining the
disembodied hand idea with demonic possession/Exorcist-like themes, Zacarias fashioned a somewhat original and
enjoyably cheesy drive-in film that grindhouse fans like me find extremely
pleasurable. The movie may be a bit silly in spots (certain scenes of the hand
moving around as well as the actors pretending that their left hands have a
mind of their own are unintentionally hilarious and quite charming; not to
mention the fact that Stuart Whitman goes in and out of an Irish accent
whenever he feels like it), but it’s still an interesting and entertaining
enough horror-thriller with a solid, likeable cast and a fun monster in the
form of the disembodied hand.
Demonoid has been released as
a Blu-ray/DVD combo from the fine folks at Vinegar Syndrome. The film, which
has been restored from the original 35mm camera negative and scanned in 2K, is
presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio and, with the exception of a little
grain here and there, the transfer looks beautiful. Special features include
the theatrical trailer, TV spot, an artwork gallery, and an interesting and
informative video interview with writer/director/producer Alfredo Zacarias. The
disc also contains the international version of Demonoid titled Macabra,
which runs ten minutes longer than the US version and features a different
soundtrack (the US version uses music taken from the 1977 sci-fi classic The Incredible Melting Man). We are also
treated to a Macabra trailer and TV
spot. The eye-catching, original poster artwork for Demonoid can be seen on the Blu-ray sleeve and the Blu-ray disc
itself while the striking artwork for Macabra
shows up on the DVD disc as well as on the reversible sleeve. All in all, a
very well put together collection of a not very well-known, but extremely fun
film.
William Holden, Grace Kelly and Mickey Rooney star in James
A. Michener’s Korean War drama, “The Bridges at Toko-Ri,” released on Blu-ray by
Kino Lorber. Holden is Lieutenant Harry Brubaker, a lawyer and Naval Reservist
called to active duty during the Korean War. The film opens in November 1952
where we meet Brubaker returning to the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Savo
Island off the coast of Korea. He ends up ditching his plane in the ocean after
running out of fuel and is rescued from the icy waters. Mickey Rooney gives a
memorable performance as Chief Petty Officer Mike Forney, the helicopter pilot who
rescues Brubaker from the ocean. Forney wears an unauthorized addition to his
uniform, a green top hat and matching scarf, when flying. He also likes to
brawl while on shore leave due to girlfriend problems. Earl
Holliman plays Nestor Gamidge, the rescue man who assists in getting the
pilots into the helicopter and brawling with Mike.
Brubaker is a good pilot and WWII veteran who’s resentful
because his civilian life was disrupted by the recall for the Korean War. He
starts to question his abilities as a pilot after ditching his plane and is
nervous about an upcoming bombing mission. Grace Kelly plays his wife, Nancy
Brubaker, who surprises her husband by visiting Japan with their children which
casts additional doubts on Brubaker’s ability to carry out dangerous missions.
Headquartered on the USS Savo Island, the naval task
force commander is Rear Admiral George Tarrant and is played by Fredric March.
Tarrant lost his sons during WWII and is filled with many regrets in life but
tries to change Brubaker’s mind about his career as a naval aviator.Rounding out the cast is Charles McGraw as
Commander Wayne Lee, the fighter wing commander, who leads the climactic
assault on the bridges. Robert Strauss is
Lieutenant “Beer Barrel,” and Willis Bouchey as Captain Evans.There’s also an uncredited bit role by Dennis Weaver as the mission briefing
officer.
The movie is divided into three parts. We meet the
members of the carrier crew in part one. The middle section features shore
leave in Japan where we meet Mrs. Brubaker and the Brubaker’s two young
daughters. There’s also some shore leave drama involving Forney and Nestor
which shows Brubaker’s dedication to these men. The final part of the movie
involves the bombing mission at Toko-Ri which pays off beautifully.
The movie features great use of United States Navy
resources as the bulk of the film takes place on the deck of the carrier USS
Essex with extensive use of the F9F Panther and shots of the carrier task
force. The use of actual United States Navy ships and aircraft rather than
models is an essential part of the authenticity of this movie. Michener himself
spent time on board the USS Essex gathering research for what would become the
short novel, “The Bridges at Toko-Ri,” which was released in 1953. That
experience by Michener was made into the MGM release, “Men of the Fighting Lady,”
with Michener played by Louis Calhern. That movie was released in May 1954, a
few months prior to the premier of “Toko-Ri.”
Holden gives one of his typical cynical performances
which he was great at doing, especially in such films as “Sunset Blvd,” “Stalag
17” and later in “The Bridge on the River Kwai” and “The Horse Soldiers.” He’s
not quite so cynical in this film and gives a great performance as
Brubaker. Grace Kelly isn’t given much to do other than looking beautiful as
the dutiful wife with kids in tow, but she’s important in sealing her husband’s’
doubts. All her scenes were filmed on studio sets in Hollywood with someone
doubling for her in long shots in the location scenes. I think Rooney gives the
standout performance as Mike Forney with the green top hat and scarf. Earl
Holliman is also good as Mike’s best friend and sidekick with Fredric March and
Charles McGraw good as the stoic and capable father figures. I wish Robert
Strauss’ comedic skills were put to greater use in the film, especially
considering he is fondly remembered in “Stalag 17” with Holden. There’s a side
story set up at the start and end of shore leave involving a set of golf clubs carried
by Beer Barrel that’s never explained.
The movie is directed by Mark Robson with a screenplay by
Valentine Davies. While Robson is not a name that rings bells, you certainly
know his movies which include “Peyton Place,” “The Prize,” “Von Ryan’s
Express,” “Valley of the Dolls” and “Earthquake” to name a few of his most well-known
movies. Robson started his career working uncredited as an assistant editor for
Orson Welles and eventually worked his way up to editor and director
culminating in several high-profile big budget movies. He died of a heart
attack in 1978 shortly after the completion of “Avalanche Express” which was
released the following year.
The score by Lyn Murray is serviceable and the on-location
shipboard filming adds great production value to the movie. The model work
depicting the crash landing scenes are very done as well. The film was released theatrically in December
1954 by Paramount. This Kino Lorber release looks and sounds better than ever. The
movie clocks in at 102 minutes and is presented in a widescreen aspect ratio
which resembles VistaVision, even though it isn’t, as the movie went into
production during the transition period when the process was still being perfected.
The Blu-ray release includes an outstanding audio commentary by film historians
Steve Mitchell and Steven J. Rubin as well as trailers for this and other Kino
Lorber releases. The movie is highly recommended for fans of Holden, Kelly,
Rooney and military drama.
To
TV fans of a certain age, the acronym ITC instantly invokes memories of spies,
guns, girls, espionage, memorable theme tunes, lush sideburns, flared trousers,
almost continuous smoking, purple flock wallpaper and grand, globe-trotting
adventures.
Actually,
the wide-ranging TV shows made by Lord Lew Grade’s pioneering company have fans
of all ages, with shows like The Saint, The Champions, The Persuaders! and Randall
& Hopkirk (Deceased) (US. My Partner The Ghost) still appearing in
television schedules to this day, nearly 70 years after Grade scored his first
hit in 1955 with The Adventures of Robin Hood.
And
so it’s everyone from grandparents to grandkids who have been tuning in in
their droves to hear ITC Entertains The World, a podcast that celebrates all
things ITC. Fronted by devotees Jaz Wiseman, Al “Smudge” Samujh and Rodney
Marshall, the podcast casts an eye at the output of this much-loved stable,
from whole-series overviews to individual episodes. They also look at the
movies made under the ITC banner (films like Blake Edwards’s The Tamarind Seed and
Peter Sellers’s career-reviving The Return of The Pink Panther).
I
spoke to Rodney Marshall about the podcast and his love of all things 1960s,
starting with the genesis of the podcast.‘Like a lot of podcasts, ours started
in lockdown. Jaz approached me and suggested that we did one based on the
little-known ITC show Gideon’s Way, which I hadn’t actually seen. I watched
them all and thought it was fantastic. You have all those great 1960s guest actors,
the Anton Rodgerses, Peter Bowleses and Annette Andres. I thought the podcast
would be very niche but it proved surprisingly popular.
‘I’ve
known Jaz for a long time through my late father. Jaz interviewed him for lots
of DVD commentaries when The Avengers came out.’ Rodney’s father just happens
to be Roger Marshall, a very familiar name to fans of vintage espionage
television shows. The creator of popular UK dramas like Travelling Man, Zodiac
and Floodtide, Marshall Sr also co-created the highly regarded and influential
private detective show Public Eye in 1965, starring Alfred Burke as
down-at-heel gumshoe Frank Marker.
He
was also a regular contributor of scripts for the likes of The Avengers,
writing 15 episodes of the iconic 1960s series.
After
the success of the Gideon’s Way podcast, they were encouraged to broaden their
scope and cover the entire range of ITC shows, but to do that they needed a new
recruit. ‘We thought that in terms of voices, three is better than two. Jaz got
in touch with his old friend Smudge, who is very much into the history of
Elstree studios, into Hammer films and of course, ITC shows. I think all three
of us bring something different to the podcast. Jaz is into things like music
and titles, Smudge is very into things like directors and direction, talking
about fish-eye lenses and the like. I’m more into the scripts, probably because
of dad.
‘It
was a learning curve for me because these two guys are ITC-mad. They probably
have huge tardis-sized rooms full of all things ITC. If I said to one of them,
“Do you have a copy of the scripts for The Persuaders! that my dad wrote for?”
and they’d probably have three different copies of it.’
We
bemoaned the fact that following the sad demise of the distribution company
Network, it now seems unlikely that long-running shows like The Saint will
receive the BluRay treatment and be discovered anew in pristine condition. It’s
a huge shame since the likes of The Prisoner and Man in a Suitcase have enjoyed
BluRay remastering and look breathtakingly fresh and vibrant as a result.
(L to R: Rodney Marshall, Jaz Wiseman and Al Samujh.)
'Man
in a Suitcase is very much a shared love. I discovered it in the early nineties
when BBC started showing it again during the school holidays. In my early
misguided smoking days, I used to copy McGill’s habit of standing my cigarette
up on the table between puffs. Naturally, I wasn’t able to pull it off with the
same je ne sais quoi as Richard Bradford.
Marshall
is very much an admirer of the US actor. ‘Bradford’s performance is
astonishing. When you put him up against someone like Colin Blakely or
Jacqueline Pearce, Bradford is dynamite. He has an incredibly magnetic
presence. A lot is made of the fact that there was a lot of tension between him
and the actors and stuntmen, but the main directors on the show absolutely
loved him. Peter Duffell who was one of the main directors was our next door
neighbour and one of dad’s mates, and he raved about Bradford.
‘He
may have overdone the Marlon Brando thing; he would race around the set four or
five times in order to look breathless before a take, but he really invested
himself in his performances. Like Patrick McGoohan, he was a lead actor who
wouldn’t take bullshit. If an actor came along and just wanted a quick cheque,
they wouldn’t put up with it. Bernard Lee turned up drunk for an episode of Man
in a Suitcase, and Bradford walked up to him and said, ‘I’m not putting up with
this crap.’ Bernard Lee immediately switched onto acting-mode and suddenly
there were no problems.’
Marshall’s
other great ITC love is one of its earlier hits, Danger Man (or Secret Agent in
the States), a popular and innovative pre-Bond spy series that made a global
star out of Patrick McGoohan. ’I think what kept McGoohan engaged with Danger
Man for so long is the fact that he’s undercover in so many different roles.
One week he might be playing a roaring drunk, the next week he’s a timid
school-teacher in glasses, sending someone into a nervous breakdown by stalking
them! That variety made him feel like he was back in his old rep company in Sheffield.’
Danger
Man was one of several ITC shows that, like ABC’s The Avengers, made the shift
from black and white to colour in the mid sixties, when the US networks made it
mandatory. Marshall however, believes that something was lost after the transition.‘I
still think that The Prisoner, Man in a Suitcase and the amazing Strange Report
aside, the best ITC series are from earlier in the decade like Gideon’s Way,
Danger Man and The Saint, which I much prefer in black and white.
‘I
always felt that when a show went from black and white to colour, you lost a
lot of the subtlety. Take an episode of The Saint like ‘Scorpion’ with Dudley
Sutton, who rides around on a motorbike bumping people off and even tries
strangling his girlfriend. Perhaps its something to do with the shadows, but
you can pull off a kind of darkness in a monochrome episode which doesn’t quite
work in colour. Jaz recorded a DVD commentary for the Avengers episode ‘Town of
No Return’ with Brian Clemens and director Roy Ward Baker, and they both said,
‘you know, black and white is more…real.’
The
podcast casts its net wide to cover not just the big, popular hits but some of
the ITC gems that may have faded from the public consciousness. ‘Man of The
World from 1962 is very interesting, with Craig Stevens from Peter Gunn playing
a photo journalist travelling the world getting himself into scrapes. It
actually started in colour then went back to black and white after its budget
was slashed.’
Intriguingly,
The Sentimental Agent starring Carlos Thompson started off as an episode of Man
of The World. The powers that be were so impressed with Thompson that they span
it out into a whole series. Marshall explains, ‘Carlos was like a continental
Roger Moore, very good looking, very charming, very flirty. But suddenly he
fell ill, and they had to make the rest of the series with this humourless guy
who was none of the above.’
The
podcast, like the work it celebrates, is a labour of love and it’s benefitted
from some Lew Grade-style serendipity that brought exactly the right three
people together to extol the many virtues of a series of entertainments that
are still adored by millions.
‘We’re
lucky,’ concludes Marshall,‘because Jaz has access to a library of things like
the music and a lot of interviews and DVD commentaries that he’s done with the
likes of Richard Bradford and Sir Roger Moore, who was hilarious. On the
commentary for The Saint, they debunked the theory that Patrick McGoohan turned
down the role. He was interviewed for it, but producer Bob Baker thought he was
unsuitable for the role as he refused to do any romantic scenes. They said to
Roger, ‘we knew that kissing ladies on screen wouldn’t be a problem for you,’
and he replied in that most Roger Moore way, ‘Indeed not!’
(ITC
Entertains The World is available to listen to across all streaming platforms.)
Paramount Home Video has released a set of five horror films in 4K UHD format. Here is a breakdown of the films included in the set.
Rosemary’s Baby(1968)
I
was in the minority of those left unimpressed by Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s
Baby (1968), based upon the 1967 novel of the same name by Ira Levin. I
never saw what the fuss was about and could not find it even remotely scary
when I originally saw it in the 1980s on VHS. I rewatched the film when the
Criterion Collection released it on the now-out-of-print Blu-ray in October
2012 (if you have that version, hold on to it) and I realized that I had an
incorrect reading of it. I believe that the terror that oozes from the screen is
directly attributed to Rosemary Woodhouse’s (Mia Farrow) new life in the
enormous Dakota Apartments (made famous by Mark David Chapman following his
murder of John Lennon in December 1980) which is surrounded by people who
initially make her feel safe and welcomed, but slowly begin to reveal their
true natures which are malevolent and evil. Her husband Guy (maverick
independent film director and actor John Cassavetes) is a struggling actor who understudies
for a Broadway play and is suddenly fast-tracked to the lead role by the
inexplicable blindness that befalls the play’s lead actor (portrayed by an
off-screen Tony Curtis over the phone) following a discussion with two nosy
neighbors (Sidney Blackmer and Ruth Gordon as Roman and Minnie Castavet,
respectively) who ingratiate themselves into their lives. Coincidence? Guy is often
short-tempered with his wife, but midway through the film he suddenly has a
burst of fatherhood when he suggests to her that they have a baby.
Overwhelmingly happy, Rosemary soon becomes suspicious of the people around her
during her pregnancy. They are revealed to be a coven of witches, and Rosemary
is carrying Satan’s child during a disturbing sequence of supernatural
impregnation that she believes was just a dream.
Rosemary’s
Baby is the ultimate gaslighting movie. It
is also a movie that, I would imagine, would work to great effect on the psyche
of female audience members for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is
due to knowing what the outcome of Rosemary’s pregnancy is, and knowing that no
one, not even the doctor (Charles Grodin) she has foolishly and naïvely
confiding in regarding her suspicions regarding the coven, can or is even willing
to help her. The film is set against a backdrop of complete normalcy, and when
that normalcy is slowly eroded by the Devil’s minions in sheep’s clothing, it’s
too much for us and Rosemary to bear. It’s also a film about betrayal, and it’s
shocking to see how Guy willingly confesses to her that he had no problem
selling her out to this life inorder to make an easy life for themselves,
something he sees as a bonus. Her reaction to him and to the (offscreen) face
of her baby is complete disbelief, and Ms. Farrow is more than capable of
carrying the film. Rosemary’s horrifically contorted face when she sees her
baby for the first time, Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking (sorry, Walt…), is
all that the audience needs to know that the evil has come full circle.
Rosemary’s
Baby turns 55 this year. Filmed in the
final four months of 1967 and released on Wednesday, June 12, 1968, it takes
place in 1965 and 1966. Ruth Gordon won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her
performance. It is widely considered to be one of the greatest horror films of
all time, and it was selected for preservation in the National Film Registry by
the Library of Congress in 2014. The film spawned a TV-movie follow-up in 1976
with Patty Duke.
(Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)
The
new package contains the film in 4K UHD on one disc, and the film on a standard
Blu-ray, the latter boasting the following extras:
Rosemary's
Baby – A Retrospective
– this piece, originally shot in 2000 for the DVD, runs just under 17 minutes
and includes comments from the late film producer Robert Evans, the late
production designer Richard Sylbert, and Roman Polanski.
Mia
and Roman – this piece runs
roughly 23 minutes and contains a lot of nice behind-the-scenes shots taken
during filming on location in New York City, with input from actress Mia Farrow
and director Roman Polanski.
Theatrical
Trailer
50th
Anniversary "Redband" Trailer
This
is a nice upgrade to 4K that will make you feel as though you’re watching it in
a cinema again, though the lack of a feature-length commentary by film
historians is disappointing given the film’s stature in the genre, making one
wonder if the director is just against this sort of thing. Steven Spielberg and
David Lynch do not offer commentaries on their works, sadly.
NOTE:
It has come to Paramount’s attention that there is an error on this pressing,
and they are going to correct it with a disc replacement program. Apparently
there is a line of dialog missing from the film! When you purchase this box
set, click on this link to request the replacement discs which
should become available in the next several months.
Pet Sematary(1989)
Stephen
King published two frightening and best-selling novels in 1983: Christine
and Pet Sematary. Attempting to sandwich these massive tales into films
that ran less than two hours is a near impossible task and neither film, the
former directed by John Carpenter and the latter by Mary Lambert, is completely
successful in this regard. Lensed between August and November 1988 and released
on Friday, April 21, 1989, Pet Sematary begins with a familiar nod to
Dan Curtis’s creepy Burnt Offerings (1976) as Dr. Louis Creed and his
wife Rachel (Dale Midkiff and Denise Crosby) leave the Windy City and arrive at
their new Ludlow, Main home with their young daughter Ellie (Blasé Berdahl) and
even younger son Gage (Miko Hughes). The house is located right in front of a
major road that trucks whiz by at a high rate of speed, setting up the roadway
as the imminent threat. Jud Crandall (Fred Gwynne), the family neighbor, takes
them to the Pet Sematary and explains how children bury their pets there. This
proves convenient when the family, sans Louis, visit Rachel’s parents
for Thanksgiving, and Ellie’s cat Winston Churchill (“Church” for short) is
killed by a truck. Jud takes Louis to a location beyond the Pet Sematary called
the Micmac Burying Ground dating back to ancient Native American days. Buried
pets have come back to life, though their personalities are different, and this
is no exception with Church. The idea is to save Ellie the grief of losing him.
Following
Ellie’s displeasure of the now-reanimated Church’s smell, Gage finds himself in
the path of a truck and, following his death, Louis digs up his corpse
and heads for the Micmac Burying Ground despite verbal warnings from Jud. Unfortunately,
Gage comes back as a meanie, killing those around him until a final showdown
with his father.
Despite
being written by author King, the screenplay never really manages to get above
the level of a gross-out horror film. The subject of grief is best left to
serious dramas (think Ingmar Bergman) as director Mary Lambert can only give us
what’s on the written page as a truncation of an oversized novel, is fairly
schematic at best. Whereas the novel is more of a deep-rooted mediation on the
nature of the overwhelming emotion of grief over the death of a child, the film
focuses more on the horrific aspects of the deaths at hand. It does seem to be
enough, however, to satisfy genre fans.
Bonus
Content (on both 4K UHD Blu-ray and Standard Blu-ray Disc):
Feature-length
commentary by director Mary Lambert
Pet
Sematary: Fear and Remembrance –
this piece is in high definition and runs about 7 minutes. Select members of
the film’s cast and crew look back on the film and its reception.
Pet
Sematary: Revisitation –
this piece is in high definition and runs about 10 minutes. The director discusses
the film’s production, how she came to direct the movie, and restoring the
film.
Still
Galleries – this is in high
definition and consists of a large selection of photos separated into four
sections.
Storyboards
Introduction by Mary Lambert
– this intro runs 1 minute in length. She explains how they derived the new
transfer from the original camera negative and how the storyboards came to be.
Storyboards – this feature is extensive and
recalls the image galleries of the laserdisc days. By using the left and right
buttons on the remote control, you can navigate what is essentially a visual
representation of the film. Very cool!
Behind
the Scenes – this is a
stills gallery that, like the storyboards, can be navigated in a similar
fashion, showing images on the set of shooting during the summer of 1988.
Marketing – nice section of stills containing
the marketing of the film for both theatrical and home video exhibition.
The
following extras are only on the standard Blu-ray, though I will never
understand why they do not replicate all extras on both discs as there is more
than enough room to do so:
Stephen
King Territory – this
is a nice piece from 2006 that is shot in standard definition for the then-DVD
release and runs about 13 minutes. It discusses the autobiographical genesis
for the story, which really happened to Mr. King’s family and daughter.
The
Characters – also from 2006
and shot in standard definition, this runs 13 minutes and looks at the
motivations behind the characters and the cats used on the set. They had an
ingenious method of making the cat’s eyes glow maniacally with an attachment to
the Panavision cameras.
Filming the Horror – running 10 minutes, Mary Lambert
discusses how the script came to her and while she read Stephen King’s novels, she
did not consider herself to be a horror film director. Miko Hughes, who was
two-and-a-half-years old when he played Gage, appears to have had a fun time on
the set!
Smile(2022)
David
Sandberg’s 2013 short film Lights Out is a brilliantly frightening,
just-under-three-minute film about a woman seeing a strange creature in her
kitchen and bedroom. It is widely available on Youtube and is one of the
scariest movies I have seen in my 42 years of watching horror films and
thrillers. It provided the basis for an unnecessary, feature-length film of the
same name three years later, also directed by the same person, who has gone on
to direct Annabelle: Creation (2017), as well as other projects. Likewise,
Parker Finn is a director who made a short film called Laura Hasn’t Slept
(2020), starring Caitlin Stasey and Lew Temple as her somnologist. It’s the
second short he made after his impressive and creepy The Hidebehind
(2018), a nearly ten-minute now-you-see-me, now-you-don’t bit of computer
trickery that will make you think twice about trekking solo in a forest. In Laura
Hasn’t Slept, which is just under twelve minutes, Laura tells her therapist
that she has a recurring nightmare wherein a frightening man is constantly
smiling at her. While I appreciated the effort of this film and experienced no difficulty
in determining the ending, the prospect of sitting through the theatrical
version entitled Smile simply did not sit well with me. My disappointment
with Lights Out nearly made me pass on Smile, and I am glad that
I reconsidered.
Unlike
most of the horror films marketed today, Smile is every bit as
terrifying as its marketing campaign has professed. Like The Blair Witch
Project (1999), Smile feels like the sort of film that would
emotionally bifurcate the audience into those who love it and those who hate
it. In terms of genre tropes, the film’s most obvious cinematic antecedent is
David Robert Mitchell’s superb It Follows (2014), and a nod to the
film’s title can be further traced back to the malevolent chauffeur, played
with icy stillness by the late Anthony James in Dan Curtis’s Burnt Offerings
(1976). While it is true that familiarity can often breed contempt, this does
not make Smile any less frightening. There is credence to the notion
that although the film might offer up a less-than-compassionate view of mental
illness and handle the subject flippantly, the movie should ultimately be
judged for what it sets out to do: scare you. It may not be completely
original, but it is no less frightening.
Sosie
Bacon, the daughter of Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick, gives a bravura
performance as recently engaged Rose Cotter, a psychiatrist who meets a new
patient, Laura Weaver (Caitlin Stasey, the actress from the short film), who fails
to convince Rose that she is being chased by a demon that possesses people by
smiling at them. Rose’s training misinterprets this as an episode of some sort
of psychosis until Laura screams and reacts violently to something in the
examination room invisible to Rose. Laura’s terror suddenly turns inexplicably serene
wherein she effortlessly cuts her own throat with a broken plant’s pot while
smiling maniacally at Rose, who reacts with complete terror. Unbeknownst to
Rose, a terrible curse that plagued Laura has now been transferred to her. It
takes Rose a while to make this realization. In the interim, she blames what
she experiences on overworking, reluctantly taking a week off at the urging of
her manager. Her fiancée (Jesse T. Usher) wants to help her but feels
powerless. Rose begins to have hallucinations, and as the audience we see what
she sees. Her mother’s painful death becomes a force that she needs to reckon with
and is a major reason why she works as hard as she does. The hallucinations
become more and more unnerving. With the aid of her ex-boyfriend cop Joel (Kyle
Gallner), she begins looking into murder cases wherein people having died by
suicide that they committed in front of another person, and they themselves
have also witnessed a suicide. A turning point occurs when Robert Talley (Rob
Morgan of Netflix’s Stranger Things, in a small but powerful role), a
murderer currently in prison, managed to escape the clutches of the entity.
With Joel’s help, Rose goes to the prison to see him. He tells Rose that the
entity feeds on other people’s trauma. Apparently, the only way to relieve
oneself of this curse is to murder someone else in front of a witness to thereby
transfer the trauma on to them (again, similarly like in It Follows). Rose
attempts to do this, yet it turns out to be another hallucination. By the end
of the film, Rose confronts her childhood trauma at her now-abandoned childhood
home in an unsatisfactory ending that paves the way for a sequel.
Thematically
similar to Rosemary’s Baby in that the protagonist knows the truth and
cannot seem to convince anyone around them that they are not crazy, Smile,
while certainly not original, manages to take a familiar horror genre trope and
seriously make it its own, packing a powerful emotional punch with several
genuine jump scares nearly on a par with Gary Sherman’s Death Line
(1972) and William Peter Blatty’s Exorcist III: Legion (1990). In order
for a film like this to work, the performances need to be believable and they
are all spot-on.
Bonus
Content (on 4K Ultra HD Disc):
Audio
Commentary by director Parker Finn
– this is a feature-length discussion by the film’s director who speaks about
the movie scene by scene regarding what he wanted in the scenes and what he
got. I normally shy away from such commentaries as I am not interested in a
blow-by-blow description of the film, but the director speaks so intelligently
about it that he is a constant pleasure to listen to.
Something's
Wrong with Rose: Making Smile
(HD) – at just under 30 minutes, this is a behind-the-scenes look at what it
took to make the film in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Flies
on the Wall: Inside the Score
(HD) – Smile has one of the creepiest scores that I have ever heard, and
it was composed by Cristobal Tapia de Veer. In under nine minutes, we are
treated to his vast studio and his methods of creating ungodly sounds for the
film.
Deleted
Scenes with Optional Commentary by director Parker Finn – there are two scenes provided here
with an optional commentary and add depth to Rose’s character. These run just
under 12 minutes. I would have loved to have had these scenes added as an
optional cut of the film viewable through seamless branching.
Laura
Hasn't Slept – Original Short with Introduction by director Parker Finn – this is the short film that
Paramount scouts saw at South By Southwest in Austin, TX that paved the way for
Smile. It runs about 11 minutes.
Although
he had made two previous feature films and several shorts, it was Mean
Streets that placed Martin Scorsese into the minds of discerning filmgoers.
This low budget independent picture (released by Warner Brothers) proved, as
filmmaker Richard Linklater states in a Directors Guild of America interview
with Scorsese from 2011 (presented here as a supplement), that artists who
wanted to make a movie could go out and find the means to put their
vision on the screen without interference from studio brass. Indeed, that’s
what Scorsese did.
At
the time, Scorsese was trying to make it in Hollywood. It was John Cassavetes
who had urged him to stop working for Roger Corman (for whom Scorsese had made
1972’s Boxcar Bertha) and “go back to his roots.” Well, Scorsese’s roots
were in the Little Italy neighborhood of New York City. He had grown up there.
He had friends there. He knew the life there, all the “goodfellas” and wannabe
tough guys and low level (and some high level) gangsters. So the filmmaker
crafted a screenplay with fellow NYU film school alumnus Mardik Martin, cast
guys he knew such as Harvey Keitel in the lead (he had starred in Scorsese’s
first feature, Who’s That Knocking at My Door from 1967, retooled and
released in 1968 and again in 1969) and Robert De Niro (who had also grown up
in the neighborhood and had known Scorsese when they were younger; this was
Scorsese’s first collaboration with De Niro, then an actor who had done some
Roger Corman films and was still attempting to up his game). Other familiar
faces that have appeared in Scorsese’s oeuvre were also cast—Victor
Argo, Harry Northup, David Carradine, and Murray Moston—but also other notable
actors who have been in mob-related pictures such as David Proval, Richard
Romanus, and Cesare Danova. Amy Robinson, who later became a producer (she
co-produced Scorsese’s After Hours in 1985) was cast as the female lead.
Mean
Streets features
the hallmarks of what we would come to know to be in a “Martin Scorsese Film,”
especially when he focuses on the underworld, a topic to which he has returned
many times: brotherhood, loyalty, friendship, betrayal, guilt (lots of guilt),
Catholicism, sex, drugs, rock and roll, crime, and violence. This life in
Little Italy is edgy, gritty, dangerous, and quite self-contained. There isn’t
a moment in which an audience might think—oh, this couldn’t happen… because
Scorsese convinces you that it can and has.
Charlie
(Keitel) is a small time hood in Little Italy. His uncle is Giovanni (Danova),
a big time Mafioso. Charlie acts as a big brother figure to his friend, Johnny
Boy (De Niro), who is reckless and not the brightest bulb in the socket, and
who owes money to several gangsters, including Michael (Romanus). Charlie
secretly dates Teresa (Robinson), who is Johnny Boy’s sister. She suffers from
epilepsy and is an outsider to the closed-knit Italian culture of the
neighborhood. Giovanni wants Charlie to get away from Johnny Boy, but Charlie
can’t do it. Eventually the debtors come to get Johnny Boy to pay up, and Charlie
must make decisions that will tear him apart. And that’s when the violence
erupts.
What’s
truly amazing about Mean Streets is that, according to cinematographer Kent
Wakeford, only 6% of the film was actually shot in Little Italy (this reviewer
believes it is slightly more, but certainly not as much as 10%). The rest was
all shot in the Los Angeles area! Scorsese and his design team managed
to find locations in California that somewhat resembled New York City, and
nearly all of the interiors were shot in real spaces (existing bars, hotels,
and apartments). No sound stages were used. For decades, critics and film
historians have touted Mean Streets to be one of the “great New York
films, shot on the streets” when, in fact, it wasn’t! That’s not to say that
it’s not a great New York film, because it is.
Mean
Streets is
a rough and ready, visceral, fast moving, in your face crime picture with unsavory
characters and a vibe that will make you nervous. You might ask, well, is it
entertaining? You bet your life it is. But with these ne’er-do-wells, your life
may not be worth much.
The
Criterion Collection presents a new 4K digital restoration approved by Scorsese
and frequent collaborator/editor Thelma Schoonmaker (who was not involved with
the film), with an uncompressed monaural soundtrack. After several home video
releases in the past on DVD and Blu-ray, this one is obviously tops.
Supplements
include the excellent previously mentioned discussion about the film between
Scorsese and Richard Linklater at the DGA; an audio commentary by Scorsese and
Amy Robinson on specific scenes from the film; a new, observant video essay by
Imogen Sara Smith about the picture; an interview with DP Wakefield; excerpts
from a documentary about co-writer Mardik Martin; a vintage promo video from
1973 about the making of the film (the only supplement ported over from
previous home video releases); and the theatrical trailer. The package booklet
contains an essay by critic Lucy Sante.
Mean
Streets is
a must-have for fans of Martin Scorsese, Harvey Keitel, Robert De Niro, and New
York City mob movies. Get it now… just remember to pay your debts!
"Some Kind of a Nut" is yet another obscure movie from the late 1960s (1969, to be precise) that is available through Screenpix, which is an ancillary subscription channel through Amazon Prime. The film is not currently available on home video in the U.S. and I don't know if it ever was. I was aware that the movie didn't make any impact upon its initial release but, given the amount of talent involved in it, I thought it was time to invest 90 minutes of my life to see a collaboration between star Dick Van Dyke and legendary writer/director Garson Kanin. Van Dyke was a hot property at the time, having left his classic TV sitcom "The Dick Van Dyke Show" to concentrate on a career in feature films, where he initially found considerable success. Van Dyke was busy with so many projects at the time that "Some Kind of a Nut" had a bizarre shooting schedule to accommodate him. According to the TCM web site, some of the film was shot in May of 1968 with the rest filmed in January 1969. The logistics of arranging this with a full cast and crew must have been challenging but Van Dyke's presence in the film led United Artists to agree to the terms. The company had recently released "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" with Van Dyke in the starring role. The studio was also seeking a long-term relationship with Garson Kanin and signed him to a four-picture deal arranged by producer Walter Mirisch, but none of the other projects came to fruition and Kanin retired from making feature films after "Some Kind of a Nut".
Van Dyke is cast as Fred Amidon, a mousey bank teller who works in a busy branch in the heart of mid-town Manhattan. He and the other employees suffer in an Orwellian atmosphere under the thumb of a priggish, humorless boss who demands complete conformity with conservative banking policies. Fred is also carrying the weight of his pending divorce from his wife Rachel (Angie Dickinson) which will be finalized in a few weeks time. His one pleasant diversion is his romantic relationship with fellow bank clerk Pamela Anderson (no, not that Pamela Anderson) played by Rosemary Forsyth. While enjoying a precious lunch hour together in Central Park, Fred is stung on the chin by a bee. The painful sting proves to be stubborn and won't go away even when the couple leave on a cross-country vacation. Frustrated by the unsightly wound on his chin, Fred decides to grow a beard. (For a bank with prison-like working conditions, the institution must have a very liberal vacation policy, as Fred and Pamela have enough time to drive to San Francisco and back and for Fred's beard to come into full glory.) Upon returning to the bank, his new appearance causes a scandal. His boss insists that he shave it off, as beards are against bank policy. When Fred refuses, he is summarily fired. His stance earns him the respect of his fellow employees and when the media learns of his situation, he becomes a cause celebre. Before long, Fred becomes a reluctant hero to everyday people who are fed up with having to conform to outdated policies in society. He is particularly embraced by the counter-culture movement, making him an unlikely figurehead for local hippies. He has more problems: his soon to be ex-wife Rachel reconnects with him because she is impressed by his new-found courage. This complicates things with Pamela, who detests the beard and the symbolism it represents. She's under the influence of her two meddlesome brothers who seek to compromise Fred's status as a cult figure. Meanwhile, Fred starts to dabble in Eastern mysticism and begins consulting an Asian guru in one of the film's funniest scenes. Beyond this, however, Kanin's script is anything but unpredictable and you can pretty much guess the outcome of the movie long before it arrives.
"Some Kind of a Nut" was filmed under the working title "The One with the Fuzz". It was a dud with critics and audiences, as was often the case when older filmmakers tried to be relevant to the anti-Establishment crowd of the era. (All the hippies are safe, joyous and satisfied carrying protest signs that are about as controversial as "No Trespassing". There isn't a hint of the Vietnam War and civil rights protests that defined the era, let alone any expletives. The film paints a Brady Bunch-like depiction of a time that never was. Nevertheless, the script does have something to say about the price of conformity, expressed in comical fashion through the inimitable talents of Dick Van Dyke, who makes otherwise unfunny scenes amusing. Angie Dickinson has a rather bland role and her screen time is limited, though director Kanin ensures there is a scene set at a swimming pool for no other reason than to present the welcome sight of Dickinson in a bikini.The film also has the virtue of presenting some nostalgic scenes shot on location in Manhattan. For Dick Van Dyke, the movie would be the first of two feature films released in 1969 that were ambitious in content but failures at the boxoffice and with critics, although the second film, Carl Reiner's comedy/drama "The Comic" has earned respect over the years in certain quarters. Van Dyke would only star in one more comedy on the big screen, "Cold Turkey", released in 1971. That film proved to be quite popular. Thereafter, he would not star in a feature film for another eight years, when he appeared in the leading role in Stanley Kramer's admirable but under-appreciated final movie "The Runner Stumbles", in which Van Dyke gave a fine dramatic performance. He returned to the medium where he had originally found success: television and his late career series "Diagnosis: Murder" would prove to be a major hit that ran for many seasons.
("Some Kind of a Nut" is currently streaming on Screenpix, available to Amazon Prime subscribers for an additional $2.99 a month.)
The
incentive for this 4th volume in my Celluloid Adventures series was a dismissive review in a reference
book of the 1956 film version of George Orwell’s novel, 1984, calling it “a great disappointment and a lackluster
adaptation of the briliant novel.” This derogatory opinion remains the general
consensus among many critics. I disagree with this assessment, in part
because
the movie remained in my memory long after I first saw it. Furthermore, I had
read the novel so I knew that, though the adaptation was definitely a loose
one, it was actually faithful to Orwell’s ideas. So I wanted to redress this
negative opinion of the movie and proceeded to write about it. This led to my
considering other movies in the science fiction and horror genres that, I
believe, are also underrated. Thus was born the concept for Celluloid Adventures 4:Science Fiction Thrills….Horror Chills.
I
should state at this point that I became a fan of science fiction and horror
movies in my adolescence. I also loved Westerns (Shane is my all-time favorite movie) and it has always upset me
when a good movie, particularly in my favorite genres, fails at the box-office.
Thus, my objective in the first three volumes was to bring overdue attention to
some of these movies. In these books, I discuss films within several genres
while I devote individual chapters to science fiction and/or horror movies. For
this fourth book, I decided to focus only on science fiction and horror because
the ascendancy of these genres that began with Star Wars (1977) and The
Exorcist (1973) relegated to relative obscurity many fine movies that
preceded this dominance along with a few that followed. And it is some of these
films that I wanted to retrieve from anonymity for this book. (Not
coincidentally, my devotion to the genres more or less ended in the late 70s,
coinciding with this ascendancy, but that’s another story.)
It
was very rewarding for me to research the movies in Celluloid Adventures 4 because I discovered numerous interesting details
about their development and production that I hope will make this book equally
interesting. For instance, here are just a few of the many intriguing facts
that I learned:
The director of one movie fired his own
brother who had written the screenplay.
One movie is based upon a legend of the
birth of a deformed monster.
One movie was made by a married couple
that later engaged in an acrimonious divorce.
One movie failed upon its original
release but played to enthusiastic audiences in New York
and Los Angeles 65 years later.
The
screenplay for one movie is based upon actual inhumane experiments conducted in
prestigious universities.
The producer of one movie was forced to
cast the actor who starred in it.
The director of one movie considers it among
his worst.
One serious movie suffered because its
studio promoted it as an exploitation movie.
The
14 movies that I highlight cover a period of three and one-half decades, from
1943 to 1978, and I would speculate that the average moviegoer today has not
heard of most of them. With one exception, they were financial failures or
disappointments, a fact that contributes to their obscurity. However, I believe
that they still deserve the recognition and praise that they did not receive
upon their original release. In my estimation, these are all excellent films
but yet most of them did not attract wide audiences.
These
movies include a wide variety of subjects. In Son of Dracula (1943), the main character is a woman who is not
only eager to die but is also willing to kill the man that loves her. In Alias Nick Beal (1949), Lucifer is
determined to condemn an innocent man him to eternal suffering. Both The Power (1968) and The Medusa Touch (1978) portray men with
superior brains that have the capability to either save or destroy the entire world.
One of them will choose destruction because he hates humanity with a passion.
Very
few people have heard of the movie, Who?
(1974), and those who have heard of it were probably confused by the title. And
yet it is a poignant story of an altruistic man who is victimized by futuristic
technology. The protagonist of The Groundstar
Conspiracy (1972) also endures tremendous suffering from another type of
futuristic technology. The future of the aforementioned 1984 (1956) is extremely frightening because it depicts a world in
which a sweet-looking child will betray her own father to be tortured and
perhaps killed.
I
am hoping that this book will encourage people, including some of you who are
reading this, to view these movies. They are all entertaining and, in some
respects, provocative. For instance, after seeing The Maze (1953), you might actually sympathize with a monstrous amphibian.
If you believe that a brain is lifeless once it is removed from its body, Donovan’s Brain (1953) may change your
mind. You might also discover how fragile our brains are after viewing The Mind Benders (1963), a story about the
cruelty of pitiless scientists. If you view Crack
in the World (1965), you will witness how the earth is almost destroyed by
a scientist with abundant hubris. Upon viewing Journey to the far Side of the Sun (1969), you will witness a benevolent
scientist lose his sanity because of his extraordinary discovery.
There
are moments of pure excitement and suspense as well as pure terror in these
movies. Viewers of Capricorn One
(1977) will inevitably break out in ecstatic applause at the sight of a rickety
biplane suddenly appearing on an isolated desert road. This is the only movie
among the 14 in this book that was a success – with the public if not the
critics. In contrast, The Mummy’s Shroud
(1967) played the bottom-of-the-bill of double features and was unnoticed upon
its release. But I believe it deserves some kind of awareness.
So
I hope that I have piqued your curiosity enough to encourage you to read about
the making of these movies. But even if you choose not to buy the book, for
your own safety, I implore you to please heed this warning: Beware the beat of
the cloth-wrapped feet!
For
international audiences, the words “Australian comedy” probably conjures up
images of Dame Edna Everage, or the sexual adventures of Alvin Purple. What may
be less familiar is the work of the comedy group Double Take, led by former
child actor Des Mangan, who began performing live in the mid-eighties in
cinemas, screening the schlock horror classic Astro Zombies (Ted V.
Mikels, 1968) whilst lip-syncing an entirely new script. What had begun as a
group of friends throwing funny lines at the TV during late might screenings of
B movies developed into a successful series of live screenings that spread in
popularity throughout the country, and eventually overseas with an appearance
in 1987 at the Edinburgh Fringe. In 1989 they began a new show using the
relatively obscure Italian peplum film Ercole, Sansone, Maciste e Ursus gli
invincibili (Samson and the Mighty Challenge, Giorgio Capitani,
1964). This was coming from the tail end of the sword and sandal boom that had
begun with Le fatiche di Ercole (Hercules, Pietro Francisci,
1958) a few years and hundreds of films earlier, and as such was already almost
spoofing the conventions, particularly in having mythological heroes from
different backgrounds (Greece, Israel and Rome) fight each other. Double Take,
by this time consisting of just Mangan and comedian Sally Patience, took this
already amusing film and drastically rewrote the story so that Hercules, a
Sinatra-style crooner, falls in love with the beautiful Labia, whose mother runs
the Pink Parthenon nightclub in Climidia, and, well, you get the point. It’s
smutty, politically incorrect and hilarious.
The
success of the ‘Double Take Meets Hercules’ live show encouraged an American
business and wannabee film producer to provide funding to turn the whole thing
into a movie, so Mangan wrote a wraparound story about Brad (David Argue), a
disillusioned cinema executive who quits his job with one of the major
distribution franchises to restore and open his own reparatory cinema. With
publicist Lisa (Mary Coustas) and projectionist Sprocket (the legendary Bruce
Spence, a man so tall he probably wouldn’t fit in a real projection booth),
they plan a gala black tie event opening screening featuring the last film to
be screened at the venue before it closed down – Hercules. It is not
until the guests arrive that they realise the print they have been sent is in
Italian, so Brad and the gang must dub the film live, much the great delight of
the audience. This set-up is obviously just the excuse needed to be able to
present large sections of the original Hercules film with the new dubbing, and
it works very well. Unfortunately, despite successful film festival appearances
around the world, Hercules Returns did not stick around in cinemas for
very long and was largely forgotten. The Double Take team went back on the road
with shows based around, among others, Morgan the Pirate, (André De Toth
& Primo Zeglio, 1960) and Starcrash (Luigi Cozzi, 1978), and later
Mangan became a well-known face on Australian television through presenting
film screenings and Eurovision coverage.
This
new, fantastic blu ray release from Umbrella Entertainment features not only
the restored Hercules Returns, but also the full English-language
version of the original film, Samson and the Mighty Challenge. This is a
very entertaining and funny film in itself; a sort of Italian Carry On
film. However, the jewel in the crown of this release is the full original
recording of ‘Double Take Meets Hercules’. Whilst much of the script was used
in the rerecorded version for Hercules Returns, in my opinion this version
is purer and funnier, uninterrupted by the new narrative segments required to
make the Hercules Returns story work. It is witty and frequently
outrageous, and it’s easy to forget that there are only two people doing all
the voices. There is also a new audio commentary for Hercules Returns
with the cast and crew, which raises the slightly meta prospect of watching the
film, which is mainly a commentary, with another commentary over the top. This
deluxe, limited-edition package also comes a book which tells the complete
story of Double Take, the making of the film and the critical reaction, as well
as a copy of the wraparound story script. Housed in a hardbox with fantastic
new artwork, it also contains a complete set of lobby cards and a reversible
poster.
This
Collector’s Edition of Hercules Returns is only available from the
Umbrella Entertainment webstore, and is highly recommended.
Nick Martin (Joey Travolta, Hollywood Vice Squad, Normal People Scare Me), the leader of
a gang called the Nightcrawlers,dreams
of moving his girlfriend, mother and two brothers out of Sunnyside, Queens, but
becomes involved in a violent war against a rival gang called the Warlocks.
Beautifully directed by Night Gallery’s Timothy Galfas (who also co-wrote the screenplay with
Jeff King from a story by King and Robert Schaffel), and released by American
International Pictures, Sunnyside is
an engaging and entertaining drama/love story that carries an important message.
Although it never reached the popularity of other gang films like Walter Hill’s
The Warriors, Sunnyside is still an extremely well-done movie that I not only
feel is underrated, but that should definitely be seen.
Besides Travolta’s solid and likeable
performance, the movie also features an amazingly talented cast of actors such
as John Lansing (More American Graffiti),
Stacey Pickren (Runaway Train),
Andrew Rubin (Police Academy),
Michael Tucci (Grease), Talia Balsam
(The Kindred), Chris Mulkey (The Hidden), Joan Darling (The Troublemaker), Jonathan Gries (The Monster Squad), Peter Kwong (Big Trouble in Little China), Eric
Laneuville (A Force of One), John
Megna (To Kill a Mockingbird), Thomas
Rosales, Jr. (The Hunter), Mykelti
Williamson (Forrest Gump), John
Alderson (Against All Flags), Grand
Bush (Colors), Billy Jacoby (Bloody Birthday) and Robert Dryer (Savage Streets).
Sunnyside has been released on
a Region 1 Blu-ray and is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. The
film looks great and the audio is also superb. Special features include a
terrific interview with actor Chris Mulkey, the original theatrical trailer as
well as trailers for Dirty O’Neil; Checkered Flag or Crash, and Walk Proud.
From TCM: "In this episode of Film 101, we're focusing on
three from the charming duo of Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant--Bringing Up
Baby (1938), Holiday (1938), and The Philadelphia Story (1940).”
The segment also goes into the draconian decency rules that were imposed on older films and how studios managed to get around topics such as sex and infidelity.
“The
Hands of Orlac,” a 1960 U.K.-French co-production, was the third movie version
of “Les Mains d’Orlac,” a sensational 1920 novel by French writer Maurice
Renard.Like many of the other horror
pictures released in 1960, it was filmed in black-and-white.The director, Edmond T. Gréville, was a veteran French-born filmmaker who had worked in
both France and England.His previous
picture, “Beat Girl” (1960), had featured Christopher Lee as a strip club
impresario in an exploitative story about beatniks, aspiring rockers, and
strippers.Lee and other British actors
filled most of the major supporting roles in “The Hands of Orlac.”Exterior scenes were filmed on the French
Riviera, interiors at Britain’s Shepperton Studios.An American actor, Mel Ferrer, was cast in
the lead.Ferrer was a reliably familiar
leading man for the all-important U.S. market.His name lent box-office appeal in those days when foreign movies were
suspect in small-town America, as it did for another offbeat horror production
in which he also starred that same year, Roger Vadim’s “Blood and Roses,” a
French and Italian co-production.But
U.S. distributors apparently saw no pressing need to slip Gréville’s film into American theaters, since it didn’t open here
until 1964.By that time, a promotional
still from the movie had appeared in the October 1963 issue of “Famous Monsters
of Filmland” magazine, in a preview of upcoming horror and fantasy releases.
In
the story, a celebrated concert pianist and composer, Stephen Orlac (Ferrer),
flies from London to France to visit his fiancee, Louise (Lucile Saint
Simon).His small plane wrecks in a fog,
and Orlac’s hands are “burnt to the bone” in the crash.After his ambulance passes through a police
checkpoint where a condemned murderer, Vasseur, is being transported to the
guillotine, Louise prevails on a famous surgeon, Dr. Volchett (Donald Wolfit),
to operate in an effort to save her lover’s badly injured hands.Coming out of the anaesthetic, Orlac finds
his hands encased in huge, unsightly plaster casts.Worse, he sees the front page of a newspaper
that juxtaposes a report about Vasseur’s execution with one about his own
injuries.To his groggy eyes, the
stories gradually merge into one under the headline, “Stephen Orlac Receives
the Hands of Vasseur, the Murderer.”Lifting the grotesque casts, Orlac flies into hysterics.This was the publicity still that intrigued
us young readers of “Famous Monsters” in 1963.It was also the centerpiece of the movie’s lobby-poster art.
Did
the newspaper actually display the stories that Orlac read, more or less as he
interpreted them?Was he
hallucinating?Was there even a
newspaper at all?No matter, the
high-strung pianist becomes convinced that the surgeon found his hands
irreparably damaged, amputated them, and replaced them with Vasseur’s,
especially since, as he mourns, “They feel as if they no longer belong to
me!”After the casts come off, he can’t
get his fingers to strike the right notes on the keyboard.
The
obsession grows stronger when Orlac and Louise make love.His fingers unconsciously tighten around her
throat, and she begins to choke.That
incident and others convince the pianist that Vasseur’s hands have a violent
will of their own, and his fiancee’s life is in danger as long as they’re
together.He checks into a sketchy
Marseilles hotel under an assumed name, where he encounters a small-time stage
magician named Nero (Christopher Lee, returning from “Beat Girl” as an even
sleazier character).Nero senses an
opportunity for blackmail; obviously, “Mr. Stephen” is a well-off guy who
wouldn’t be holed up in a dump unless he had something to hide.Nero pimps out his pouty assistant and
mistress, Li-Lang (Dany Carrel), to cozy up to Orlac and get him to talk.
Orlac’s
self-imposed exile doesn’t last long.After Louise tracks him down, he decides to straighten up, return to
England, marry Louise, and resume his career.But he continues to brood over his persuasion that his hands are no
longer his own.Discovering “Mr.
Stephen’s” true identity, Nero and Li-Lang follow.Nero sets about to feed Orlac’s paranoia,
reasoning that the unhinged pianist will kill someone sooner or later, opening
himself to big-time extortion.
To
the extent that film enthusiasts take notice of “The Hands of Orlac” at all,
they mostly judge it seriously inferior to the previous movie versions of
Renard’s novel.Robert Wiene’s “Orlacs
Hände” (1924), also called “The Hands of Orlac” in English-language prints, was
a classic of German silent cinema, with Conrad Veidt as the title character
amid feverish Expressionist sets.Following in 1935 from MGM, Karl Freund’s “Mad Love” with Colin Clive as
Orlac draped the story in sadism and sexual perversion, to the extent Freund
could do so under the vigilant eyes of the Hays Code censors.
Gréville’s remake dialed back on Wiene’s and Freund’s
extravagance, accounting for some of its lacklustre press from critics who like
to see the gothic thriller envelope pushed further than Gréville pushed it, at least in their opinion.It’s very much a product of 1960, emphasising
the psychological aspect of Orlac’s dilemma and stepping into film noir
territory once the intimidating Nero and Li-Lang enter the plot.It even evokes the emerging New Wave of
French cinema with its documentarian exterior shots on the Riviera.Claude Bolling’s musical score includes light
jazz for a scene in which Orlac tools around in a vintage sports car, and
rinky-tink cabaret music for Li-Lang’s sultry song-and-slink routine following
Nero’s magic act, juxtaposed with Beethoven and Liszt in the concert scenes
that open and close the movie.Mel
Ferrer lacks Conrad Veidt’s eye-popping hysteria and Colin Clive’s furrowed
anxiety, his Orlac repurposed for 1960 as a sophisticate in shades, pullover
sweater, and tailored slacks for casual wear, and an expensive suit for
business occasions.If you’re a
retro-fan of JFK-era men’s fashions, you probably won’t mind.You may even prefer Ferrer’s interpretation
over his predecessors’.Like other
British horror films of the time, such as “Jack the Ripper” (1959) and “The Two
Faces of Dr. Jekyll” (1960), “The Hands of Orlac” promises plenty of sex appeal
courtesy of Lucile Saint Simon’s filmy negligees and Dany Carrel’s showgirl
outfits.In truth, this stuff is pretty
tame by 2023 standards, but it was a draw for male filmgoers at a time when
even the centrefolds in “Playboy” were often modestly posed.
For
most of the picture, we don’t know whether Orlac’s obsession has a basis in
reality, since we don’t actually see the operation itself.Were the killer’s hands really grafted onto
his wrists, or is the pianist suffering from a morbid neurosis?An explanation is made toward the end that
for may find satisfying or frustrating, depending on your tastes.It doesn’t help that Orlac is surrounded by
oddball characters who only compound his unease.Nero is the only one who is overtly menacing,
but others are unsettling in their own ways.In his few minutes on screen, Donald Wolfit’s Dr. Volchett is brusque
and possibly alcoholic; his decision to save (or replace) Stephen’s damaged
hands seems more a whim than a humanitarian impulse.His unnamed assistant (Anita Sharp Bolster)
is a starchy spinster who wears rimless glasses with impenetrably thick lenses,
like Albert Dekker’s in 1940’s “Dr. Cyclops.”When Orlac tries to call Dr. Volchett to either confirm or relieve his
suspicions, the assistant tells him the surgeon is on professional travel—to
Moscow!—and unreachable in that era before cellphones and Zoom.She brightens up as she enjoys a chance to
extol her boss, but her comments only deepen Orlac’s fears:“Dr. Volchett is a magician,” she
declares.“Your case was his greatest
triumph.”In a small but bravura
appearance, Donald Pleasence plays Coates, a sculptor who wants to use Orlac’s
hands as the model for those of Lazarus in a biblical tableau of Lazarus raised
from the dead.“All we see of Lazarus is
his hands—your hands, Orlac!”, he exclaims, seizing the pianist’s
wrists.Given Stephen’s state of mind,
the sculptor’s fervor is more invasive than flattering, like the irritating
stranger who latches on to you at a party and won’t let go.As he makes his pitch with growing
enthusiasm, Orlac stares at his hands (poised exactly as he had scrutinized his
grotesque casts earlier in the story), and runs off in panic.
“The
Hands of Orlac” isn’t the best horror thriller of 1960.That would be Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho,”
with “Blood and Roses” and Georges Franju’s “Eyes Without a Face” as close
seconds.But it’s better than its
obscurity would imply.In the U.S.,
“Eyes Without a Face” was dumped onto double bills as “The Horror Chamber of
Dr. Faustus” and generally ignored by critics, much as “The Hands of Orlac”
was.Now, it’s widely regarded as a
classic.It’s surprising that Gréville’s
picture hasn’t received similar reappraisal, given the renewed interest in
neglected horror films in the home video era, and the movie’s value as an early
showcase for Christopher Lee and Donald Pleasence.The problem may lie with the fact that an
official DVD or Blu-ray edition for fair evaluation doesn’t exist in the U.S.,
the U.K., or anywhere else as far as I can tell.DVD-R versions are sold on the collector’s
market, with caveats about their visual quality.
We
discovered this presentation of the film on YouTube, apparently sourced from
tape, perhaps one of two competing VHS releases in the 1990s, or a videotape
from a long-ago television broadcast.The image is better than you might expect, if inferior to the hi-def
transfers we’ve come to expect nowadays.It’s also the easiest way to find the movie, at least until we can hope
to see original elements unearthed, if they still exist, and a better print
prepared for Blu-ray or one of the major streaming platforms.
(To watch in full screen format, click on "Watch on YouTube".)
Flicker
Alley’s recent Blu-Ray release of “Laurel & Hardy Year One-The Newly
Restoed 1927 Silents” is the start of a ground-breaking project which is a joy
for all film fan,s especially Laurel & Hardy aficionados. Produced by film
historians and restoration specialists Serge Bromberg and Eric Lange in
conjunction with Lobster Films, Blackhawk Films and The Library of Congress,
this 2-disc set contains the first 15 extant films that feature Stan Laurel and
Oliver Hardy in the casts. A number of the films can just boast having Laurel
& Hardy in the same film-not yet a team.
Many
of these films are being seen in their most complete versions thus far due to
the collaboration of various film archives and collectors. This is the seminal
period of the teaming of Laurel & Hardy. They are not quite a team in the
earliest films in this collection. This set gives us the opportunity to study
their evolving partnership.
In
typical Flicker Alley fashion the set is chock full of wonderful bonus
materials. Each film has newly recorded audio commentary by Laurel & Hardy
scholar Randy Skretvedt. There are three documentaries: Restoring Laurel
& Hardy, Laurel & Hardy on Location & Hats Off!-a slide show
presentation of the only completely lost Laurel and Hardy film. There are
Multiple Image Galleries, additional music scores for three of the shorts and a
very informative 35-page booklet.
If
you have seen any previous Flicker Alley releases, you know the image quality is
superb. This initial release is an exciting start to a multiple year project.
Year Two (1928) is next. We will have the opportunity to watch the teaming of
one of the greatest comedy teams mature into legends. Very much recommended.
Roger Corman had, over a relatively short period of time,
directed and/or produced more than a
half-dozen pictures since his entry into the movie industry in 1955.His first efforts were modest successes, but
the filmmaker firmly broke into a dependably bankable stride within two years’
time.Though already having helmed two
low budget science-fiction pictures with some success (Day the World Ended (1955) and It
Conquered the World (1956) his reputation in Hollywood - as a budget-minded
money-spinner - was properly recognized following the box office counting of his
1957 chiller combo: Attack of the Crab
Monsters/Not of This Earth.Variety noted the package – each film made
on a “slenderized bankroll of $85, 000,” had brought in an impressive domestic
gross of $800,000.By early November of
’57, that package, distributed through Allied Artists, had earned back the
entirety of its production and marketing costs within twelve weeks of its release.
Through the remainder of the 1950s and well into the early
1960s, Corman continued to grind out a dizzying array of feature films, not all
of the horror and sci-fi variety: there were plenty of exploitative teenage
rock n’ roll pictures and crime dramas offered as well. But from 1960 through
1964, Corman worked primarily – though not exclusively – producing and directing
an impressive slate of upscale horror classics.He had already given fans such soon-to-be low-budget cult favorites as Bucket of Blood (1959) and Little Shop of Horrors (1960).But in 1960 he more famously scored with House of Usher, the first of his iconic and
moody cycle of Poe and H.P. Lovecraft adaptations - many featuring Vincent
Price in roles as both tormentor and tormented.
One of Corman’s most important collaborators in his early
years was screenwriter Charles B. Griffith.Griffith would receive screenwriting credit – or co-credit – on no fewer
than eight of Corman’s earliest films 1956-59.The writer would later recall for Beast
from Haunted Cave he had been commissioned by Corman to essentially rework
the storyline of an earlier film they had crafted together – Naked Paradise (1957) aka Thunder Over Hawaii.Naked
Paradise, of which Griffith was brought on late to the project for a
re-write, was essentially a South Seas crime-drama set in a pineapple
plantation under the umbrella of a glistening sun.
Since that film had done well enough, Corman wanted to revisit
the scenario of Naked Paradise for the
reimagined crime drama titled Beast from
Haunted Cave.There would be a new
twist: the new scenario was to take place in and around a gold mining community
nestled in the dead winter snow of South Dakota’s Black Hills.Oh, and Corman advised Griffith that he also wanted
a genuine cave-dwelling monster thrown in for good measure - that sort of thing
was still selling.That was essentially
all the background material given to Griffith to get started on the project.
Despite its menacing title Beast from Haunted Cave appears more a crime-drama than horror
flick in the course of its 65-minute running time.The story revolves around the criminal doings
of a circle of bandits: chain-smoking mastermind Alexander Ward (Frank Wolff), his
two minions Marty Jones (Richard Sinatra) and Byron Smith (Wally Campo) and
Ward’s oft- inebriated “secretary” Gypsy Boulet (Sheila Carol).The thieves have gathered in the snow-capped
mountain winter of the pioneer town of Deadwood, South Dakota.Their plan is to plant an explosive in an
abandoned cave in the early hours of a quiet Sunday morning.The explosion is set merely as a strategic
ploy to distract authorities for a time, enabling the thieves’ free reign to
steal gold bars from an unattended payroll office of a local gold-mining
company.
Unfortunately, their plans don’t run smoothly.Ward’s dissatisfied and affection-starved
lover-secretary, Gypsy, has a bit of a drinking problem.She complicates matters when she falls hard for
ski instructor and trail guide Gil Jackson (Michael Forest), a swarthy,
dark-haired gentleman of gentle temperament. (As an aside, I occasionally had a
bit of trouble understanding actress Sheila Carol’s dialogue in this film: her
diction seemed a perplexing amalgam of drunken slurred words and a faux
Katherine Hepburn accent).The cold Ward
takes notice of his woman’s wandering eye but is unworried.He has plans to kill Jackson once the skier -
unwittingly - guides this gaggle of crooks on a cross-country trail run to a
remote location.
Ward had plans to rendezvous with a waiting plane to
ferry his gang - and their misbegotten treasure - off to safe sanctuary in
Canada.But this plan too is scuttled by
an unwelcome blizzard passing through the mountains.(As a second aside, Ward’s cross-country ski scheme
is surely the most ineffectual escape route ever mapped by criminals carrying weighted
gold bars in rucksacks.They really would
have done better just hightailing it out of town in their rented car). To complicate matters further – and this is
where the horror finally comes in - their explosive mine charge has awakened
the titular beast, sort of an upright walking, giant spider that collects his victims
by webbing them against cave walls and drinking their blood at his leisure.Let’s just say the moral of the story is a
familiar one: essentially, crime doesn’t pay.
In Corman’s attempt to make their chilly time in the
Black Hills more productive and worthwhile (i.e. profitable), the filming of Beast was to be produced back-to-back on
location in Deadwood with yet another Charles B. Griffith script, Ski Troop Attack.This second film was to be a somewhat more
ambitious project, a snow-bound WWII action-adventure pitting American
ski-troopers against their wintry Nazi counterparts.The Corman team would use the same primary
on-and off screen talents featured in the cast and credits of Beast for Ski Troop Attack.
The scenario of Ski
Troop Attack referentially takes place in the snow-capped mountains of
Germany’s Hürtgen Forest, circa
December 1944.A small American band of
ski-troopers are the only remaining Allied force active in this Nazi-controlled
region, hiding themselves behind enemy lines so they can spy and report on SS
ski-troop movements.The level-head
Lieutenant Factor (Forest), a graduate of the Army’s Officer Candidate School,
wishes to stay clear of engaging in active combat with the enemy.As the only team of Allied forces positioned
inside the Nazi-controlled German-Belgian border, it is Forest’s belief his
outfit should purposely avoid direct contact.He instead wants to concentrate his efforts on secret reconnaissance
missions.By acting as the covert eyes of
the good guys behind enemy lines, his outfit would be able to transmit vital
information on Nazi troop movements back to HQ.
But Factor is at loggerheads
with tough-talking Sergeant Potter (a mustache-less Wolff, again cast in a
“heavy” role).Potter is described by
Factor as an old school “regular army guy,” a man of pure fighting spirit but someone
strategically short-sighted.Potter desperately
wants to engage the Nazi ski-troopers in active combat and is mostly dismissive
of the Factor’s civilian background and wartime decision-making capabilities.Potter does get a number of chances to engage
in hand-to-hand combat.The film actually
offers no shortage of brutal on screen violence with competing ski-troops ambushing
and beating one another with fisticuffs, rifles butts, bayonets, knives and
machine-gun fire.
Ultimately, the American’s
decide to blow up a strategic railroad bridge that Allied air powers are unable
to access and target.But while
attempting to get to the base of the bridge to set off their detonators, they
must first successfully climb an ice-covered vertical cliff side.If this isn’t problematic or dangerous enough,
they must also fend off a team of six pursuing Nazi ski-troopers hot on their
trail.The German skiing contingent,
incidentally, is led by the badly-dubbed Roger Corman himself.The film’s climactic ending is, somewhat surprisingly
for this type of adventure, more bleak than celebratory.
Griffith’s screenplay is
actually far more nuanced than it is given credit for in the film’s original
round of reviews.The sensitively written
dialogue is mature – the scene where soldier Grammelsbacher (Sinatra) sits
around a campfire musing if somewhere out there there’s still “a bullet with my
name on it” – is particularly gripping.The better written dialogue also brings out better acting performances
of all involved – including Shelia Carol who appears midway through the film as
a spiteful German captive of the Americans.
The film does plod a bit.There’s a lot of wartime newsreel footage
interlaced throughout, and no matter how beautiful the mountain settings are
photographed, there’s far too many time-filling shots of ski-troopers silently
trudging cross-country style through the tundra.Having said that that, there’s also some
well-executed ski chase scenes captured on screen, such action-footage surprising
for a film shot on a threadbare budget.The soundtrack of the film is riddled with the sound of machine-gun fire
and a decent score courtesy of composer Fred Katz – though fans of Corman’s
earliest films will surely recognize a good number of Katz’s recycled musical
motifs are in play.
As both projects were to be shot on tight schedules,
Roger’s brother, Gene, stepped in as the de facto producer of Beast.Once a Hollywood agent, Gene Corman was co-founder (with Roger) of their
company Filmgroup, Inc.Gene’s earliest
entries as producer would include a number of exploitative sci-fi efforts such as
Night of the Blood Beast (1958) and Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959).With Roger set to both produce and direct Ski Troop Attack, the directorial duties of Beast were given to first-timer Monte Hellman - whose only previous
film experience was having worked as an apprentice editor at ABC-TV.
In his entertaining memoir, How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime
(Random House, 1990), Roger Corman recalled the wintertime location shooting in
and around snowbound Deadwood as “unbearable” and “a very tough
challenge.”When shooting was to
commence on the peak of Mount Terry, Corman recorded temperatures of a frigid thirty-eight
degrees below zero.In the recollection
of script supervisor Kinta Zertuche, her primary job was simply “to find ways
to keep the film warm enough so it wouldn’t get brittle and crack.” She was
also deigned to find ways of keeping the production cameras from freezing – not
always successfully.
Production assistant Paul Rapp recalled he had been
tasked to drive the parsimonious Corman – and an automobile-filled cache of
film props - from Los Angeles to Deadwood, so the director “could save on
airfare and have an extra car on location.”When filming one downhill ski sequence, Corman accidentally set off a
small avalanche by shouting “Action!” too loudly through a bullhorn.Rapp recalled while the incident scared him
half-to-death, Corman quickly realized the potential visual impact of what the
camera was capturing.So the team was
commanded to continue to roll film, Corman exhorting via bullhorn that his terrified
skiers try their best to “Stay Ahead of the Avalanche!”
In March of 1959, there was a trade announcement that
“Corman’s distributing outfit, The Filmgroup,” was planning to release Beast from Haunted Cave nationally (paired
with The Wasp Woman) as early as June
1, with Ski Troop Attack (to be paired
with Task Force 38) a little more
than a month later, July 13.But neither
of those prospective release dates would actually roll out as planned, even
though the films themselves were
ready to roll.Beast would come closest to realizing its projected release date,
appearing on some screens in July 1959.
As early as February of 1960, Variety reported that the steamroller that was Filmgroup was
optimistically planning to roll out eight feature films a month between March
and June of 1960.Ski Troop Attack was to see release on the very tail end of that
schedule. The Hollywood Reporter suggested Filmgroup’s plan as more ambitious
than even originally announced: the company was planning on issuing no less
than twenty-four features over a
year’s period, with eleven of those titles already in the can and ready to go.
The company was also interested in testing international
markets. It was reported that the usually closed-to-outsiders Soviet film
market was interested in importing four Corman titles – including Beast and Ski – assuming whether or not Irving Allen, president of Canada’s
Astral Films, could finalize a deal while visiting London.Later in May of 1960, it was reported
Filmgroup had sealed another deal to distribute eight films – again, including Beast and Ski - throughout the Philippine islands.Finally, in August of 1960, Continental
Distributors would obtain rights of Filmgroup product for European markets.
But the U.S. market was of most concern to the filmmakers.On March 16, 1960, there was a very belated press
screening of the Beast and Wasp combo at the Hollywood Theatre. Variety was generally impressed with Hellman’s
Beast, but suggested the film’s scenario
was completely illogical.The critic
also pondered that perhaps interest in horror films was generally on the
wane.He opined, audiences were growing
“inured to monsters and hardly blink when this one guzzles its customary quota
of blood.”The review of Wasp was likewise middling in
praise.The trade noted, while the film
was certainly an “exploitable” passable entertainment, “it’s pretty slow and not
very frightening.”
The “official” premiere of Beast from Haunted Cave was to take place at dual locations in
South Dakota:Rapid City’s State Theatre
and the Hile-Hi Drive-in outside of Deadwood: the latter venue was to enjoy a
four day night run of Beast beginning
August 2, 1959.This was obviously a nod
of acknowledgment to the folks living in the area of the Black Mountain Hills
who hosted and assisted the film’s production.But no matter how well-intentioned the “premiere” honor, Beast from Haunted Cave and The Wasp Woman had already been
projected on screens in the mid and southwestern U.S. as early as July of ’59.
Earlier that spring, director Gene Corman had written
Allan “Birdie” Arnold of Deadwood’s Chamber of Commerce City Council, a champion
of the film shoot. “We saw a rough cut of our picture, it is very good and I’m
sure everyone who helped, especially you, will be proud and pleased,” Gene
wrote, adding, “I plan to make it a full length picture and hope to release it
in the summer.”For their assistance,
both Arnold and Mayor Ed Keene of Lead, South Dakota, were given “Technical
Advisor” credits on Beast.
A film that became a legendary bomb, the 1977 Western The White Buffalo has
been re-evaluated by movie fans in recent years and many consider it to
be an underrated classic. Count me out of this assessment. The film is
certainly unique: an ambitious attempt to blend the Western and horror
film genres, but it falls short on most counts.The United Artists
production stars Charles Bronson as Wild Bill Hickcok, who- for reasons
never adequately explained- is haunted by terrifying nightmares
involving him in a life-or-death confrontation with a giant white
buffalo. I didn't know that buffalo come in colors, but I'll cede the
point. (Given the dreadful styles of the 1970s, it's surprising the film
wasn't titled The Plaid Buffalo.) Simultaneously, Chief Crazy
Horse (Will Sampson) is having his own white buffalo problems. Seems the
actual rampaging beast wreaked havoc on his village and killed his
child. In order to restore his pride and stature among the tribe, he
must hunt down and slaughter the animal- or be stuck with the monicker
of "The Worm" henceforth. (This must be the Indian equivalent of
"nerd".)
The two men are on obsessive journeys and are destined to meet up -
but both feel they have the singular right to kill the buffalo. Hickcok
meanders through some cow towns under an alias and hooks up with a
mountain man geezer (Jack Warden, channeling the ghost of Gabby Hayes)
who decides to accompany him on his quest. When Hickcok and Crazy Horse
do meet up, they end up saving each other's life in respective ambushes
and declare themselves blood brothers. Despite this, each man is
determined to be the one who slays the white buffalo.
The film is moody and atmospheric and at times is offbeat enough
that, if it weren't for the Colorado scenery, one might suspect this is
an Italian Western. Nevertheless, the screenplay by producer, screenwriter and director Richard Sale (based
on his novel) is erratic and contains many disparate elements that never
blend together in a satisfactory manner. The film is peppered with
welcome appearances by many Western favorites (Stuart Whitman, Slim
Pickens, John Carradine) but their characters are superfluous and smack
of gimmicky cameos. Clint Walker shows up briefly, well-cast and playing
against type as a villain. There is also the rather odd presence of Kim
Novak in a nothing role as a good-hearted hooker who suffers the
humiliation of being rejected by Hickcok even as he shares her bed.
(This must be the first case of erectile dysfunction caused by a white
buffalo.)
The movie was an attempt by producer Dino De Laurentiis to exploit
the dying Western genre by finding a way to incorporate elements of Jaws. De
Laurentiis seemed to have a fixation on giant, mythic animals taking
vengeance on mankind, as he produced "King Kong", "Orca" and "The White
Buffalo" all within a two-year period. Despite
the prestigious cast and the fact that this was a United Artists
production, the budget was clearly skimpy. The film abounds with shoddy
rear screen projection shots and some amateurish sets, particularly in
the mountain sequences set at night. There's plenty of plastic snow and
the sets are somewhat less realistic than a Christmas window display at
Macy's. Then there is the titular character of which much has been
written in movie lore. Apparently devoid of anything other than a $20
bill for special effects work, the white buffalo is generally shot in
extreme closeup in very brief cuts to mask its ludicrous appearance.
Although the buffalo is seemingly immortal and can crash through
mountains of snow and cave walls, it never looks any more menacing than a
slightly perturbed mountain goat. The analogies to Moby Dick also
become a bit too obvious especially when Crazy Horse rides atop the
beast, flaying at it with a knife. (just like Ahab and the whale- get
it?) All of this is set to an atmospheric if somewhat low-key score by
John Barry that fits the proceedings well.
Perhaps the most unintentionally amusing aspect of the movie is the
initial meetings between Hickcok and Crazy Horse. The two men face each
other and gesture with elaborate Indian sign language- despite the fact
they are simultaneously speaking to each other in perfect English! This
is as practical as using signal flags to communicate with a dinner
companion and seems more suited to an episode of Police Squad.
Despite all of these criticisms, there is something admirable about the concept of The White Buffalo in
that the film at least tries to be an original take on an age-old
genre. It also represents one of the last movies in which Charles
Bronson at least tried to stretch his acting muscles. With his saggy
eyes and droopy mustache, he's perfectly cast as Hickcok. The failure of
this film seemed to discourage his professional ambitions. With a
couple of exceptions (Telefon, Death Hunt) Bronson went happily
into B movie hell, churning out low-rent but profitable potboilers aimed
at inner city and drive-in audiences. The shame of it is that he also
encouraged once respected directors like J. Lee Thompson and Michael
Winner to go along with him.
The White Buffalo was one of those major failures that initiated the virtual end of the Western film genre, and it was Heaven's Gate three
years later that nailed the coffin shut. The Bronson film has grown in
stature as a curiosity in the ensuing years and apologists claim that
the chintzy set pieces must have been intended in order to convey the
dream-like quality of the plot. Much the same has been said of
Hitchcock's Marnie, which was also heavily criticized for its
abysmal sets, rear screen production work and use of matte paintings.
However, in both cases the hypothesis seems unlikely. They were simply
troubled productions overseen by directors who seem to have lost
interest in their respective projects. Universal ended up losing money
on the Hitchcock drama while United Artists was forced to pick up the
tab for the buffalo bill, if you'll pardon the pun.
The White Buffalo has recently been re-released by Kino
Lorber
Studio Classics. The transfer is superb, which only makes the white
buffalo look even phonier, but that just adds to the fun. An original
trailer is included and this time around, a commentary track has been
added by Paul Talbot, author of the terrific "Bronson's Loose" books.
Talbot admits he's obsessed by Bronson and his films and provides a
master class on the making of The White Buffalo. His track is
highly informative, if lacking in humor, as he discusses the career
credits of virtually every actor who appears in a speaking role.
Talbot's contribution makes the film worth obtaining, even if you had
the earlier version.
The 1980s was a fun time to be a child. The monster
kids of the 1950s and 1960s may have had Forrest J. Ackerman and his Famous
Monsters of Filmland magazine, but we had full-blown horror content in
films ostensibly made for a young audience, from the melting Nazis in Raiders
of the Lost Ark or the terrifying library apparition in Ghostbusters,
to a melting Stripe in Joe Dante’s equally hilarious and scary Gremlins.
In this new book dedicated to horror films aimed at children, Catherine Lester begins
by drawing on early examples such as Frankenstein’s murder of the little
girl by its titular monster, along with other pre-code horrors that primarily
drew a young crowd, through to its modern, reanimated version, Tim Burton’s Frankenweenie.
The book then takes a deeper look at the ‘horrific’ childlike gremlins who both
commit violent acts and then have violence acted upon them (along with the
aforementioned Stripe, who can forget the gremlin in the microwave?). What
happens to the representation of children in the horror film when children are
the audience? Did the children in the audience take sympathy with the gremlins,
who let’s not forget, just happily sit watching Disney films with childlike
wonder when the adult world just leaves them alone? The violence combined with
the Looney Tunes tone of Gremlins caused some issues for the MPAA,
something which the book also goes into. Ultimately it led to the introduction
of the PG-13, apparently suggested by Steven Spielberg, the film’s producer,
who described the new rating as “PG with a little hot sauce on top.”
Lester also draws on another eighties staple,
The Monster Squad, a sort of The Goonies meets The Lost Boys
via Universal’s horror canon. By introducing the concept of the ‘Crazyspace’, a
space in which child characters are able to be the prime agents in dispatching
evil forces in the complete absence of adult supervision, the book explores the
way in which many films present children as autonomous and often superior to even
the most masculinised models of authority; in this case the kids defeat Dracula
and his fellow monsters before the US Army arrive, something which would have
been very different in the 1950s monster and science fiction movies, where it
was usually the army who saved the day.
Bringing the discussion into the 21st
Century, Lester also looks at the animated children’s horrors ParaNorman (one
of this reviewer’s favourites), Coraline and Monster House, along
with Joe Dante’s return to the children’s horror genre with 2009’s live action The
Hole. By covering almost a century of children's horror films, this book
makes for an insightful and entertaining examination of the horrific child and
the cathartic nature of the genre. For this reviewer, as a child horror was an
escape from the terrors of the real world, and as such it is a rewarding
experience to be able to read this major contribution to the study of these
strange and wonderful films. Horror Films for Children is highly
recommended, both the book and the films themselves!
Richard Roundtree, whose portrayal of New York City private eye John Shaft made the character an iconic pop culture symbol, has passed away from pancreatic cancer at age 81. Roundtree was not the first actor to elevate the the image of Black male characters on the big screen. Stars such as Sidney Poitier, Harry Belafonte, Jim Brown and Fred Williamson preceded him. However, Roundtree had his own inimitable style as Shaft: brash, self-assured and cocky. Poitier's detective Virgil Tibbs was also a ballsy man of action but, as a police officer, he still had to stay within the system. Roundtree's Shaft had his own rules and code of ethics. The success of "Shaft" for MGM in 1971 also was a milestone for director Gordon Parks, making him the first Black director of a highly successful big studio film. Isaac Hayes's Oscar-winning classic title song also helped elevate the film's success. The MGM production inspired two sequels: "Shaft's Big Score" and "Shaft in Africa" as well a a short-lived TV series starring Roundtree. The actor would also appear as the same character in spin-off feature films released in 2000 and 2019. However, there was far more to Roundtree's talents and career and he worked consistently in TV and films before and after the release of the original Shaft film. Click here for more.
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.
Although the practice is all but obsolete today, for decades radio spots were used to promote new films to American audiences. For many of us, this was an era where you felt like your social status had improved immeasurably if your latest used car had the ability to pick up FM radio stations, even if the vehicle could be relied upon to break down several times a week. Radio spots generally ran in a variety of lengths ranging from 60 seconds to 10 seconds. Because they lacked visual elements, the producers of the tracks often used sensationalistic tactics to gain the attention of listeners, often stressing the most comedic or shocking elements of the film depending upon its subject matter. As with all things nostalgic, there is a passionate interest in radio spots among some retro movie fans who collect the vinyl discs. Most were released on 45 RPM but in earlier versions from the 1950s, they were usually on 33 1/3" records.
Here is an original 1973 radio spot for William Friedkin's "The Exorcist".