By Lee Pfeiffer

Referring to the 1955 film "Man With the Gun" as a routine Western might not sound like an enthusiastic recommendation. However, because the 1950s was such a fertile time for fine movies representing this genre, "routine" can be taken as praise. The film follows many of the standard story elements that were popular in horse operas of this era: a stalwart, mysterious loner with a shady past who takes on the forces of evil; a good-hearted "bad girl"; a larger-than-life villain and a town with a population of timid, helpless men who must rely on the stranger to save them from being exploited and cheated. Robert Mitchum, then an up-and-coming star, plays Clint Tollinger, a drifter with a reputation for taming wild towns. The town he rides into has a trouble with a capital "T". Seems one Dade Holman (Joe Barry) is the standard villain in a Western piece: he's been flexing his considerable financial resources by buying up all the surrounding land and using paid gun hands to terrorize or kill anyone who won't cede their property rights to him. Tollinger drifts into town to find that his reputation precedes him. He is hired by the local council to thwart Holman's thugs, who have also been disrupting the peace. Tollinger agrees as long as he has complete control over the methods he employs and that he is temporarily deputized, as well. He finds the local sheriff to be an aged, fragile man Lee Simms (Henry Hull), who is more of a figurehead than a respected lawman. Tollinger quickly reverses roles and becomes the central law officer in town, with Simms taking on the role of his deputy. It doesn't take long for Holman's gunmen to test his mettle. Tollinger proves to be adept at protecting himself, consisting outdrawing his adversaries and killing them even when they outnumber him. He also enforces a "no guns in town" rule and a curfew as well. Before long, the businessmen are complaining that now things are too peaceful and their businesses are suffering. Tollinger also interacts with a young couple who are engaged to marry: lovely Stella Atkins (Karen Sharpe) and her headstrong fiancee Jeff Castle (John Lupton) who continues to defy Holman's men and who has been seriously wounded for his refusal to cede a parcel of land Holman wants. Tollinger takes a liking to the couple, though rumors begin to swirl that Stella is more in love with him than she is with Jeff. Tollinger also encounters his estranged wife Nelly (Jan Sterling), who is running the local bordello/dance hall. The two are not happy to see each other and when Nelly reveals a shocking secret about their daughter, the enraged Tollinger goes on a rampage that terrorizes the town.

"Man With the Gun" suffers from a bland, uninspired title but the film itself is quite engaging. Mitchum looks terrific in the part, strutting about town ramrod straight and looking handsome even when embroiled in shoot-outs. Even this early in his career there was evidence of a superstar in the making. The supporting cast is also very good, especially some wonderful character actors such as Henry Hull, Emile Meyer, James Westerfield and other familiar faces of the era (including a young Claude Akins). The film, ably directed by Richard Wilson, is certainly no classic but on the other hand, it is consistently engrossing and highly entertaining. Despite the considerable talent involved, it's Mitchum's show throughout- and he delivers the goods.

The Blu-ray release from Kino Lorber does justice to the crisp B&W cinematography. The edition features the original trailer and bonus trailers for other Mitchum Westerns from the company, The Wonderful Country and Young Billy Young. 

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While criticism of Earthquake usually concentrates on its flaky Sensurround effects, the film’s more important flaws lie in a confused approach to the genre and – especially – one character who really belongs in a different movie altogether, writes BARNABY PAGE.

Although it remains one of the best-known of the early-1970s all-star disaster extravaganzas, Earthquake (1974) was less successful commercially than Airport, The Towering Inferno or The Poseidon Adventure, and did not enjoy the critical acclaim of the latter two.

It probably suffered in the short term from being released only a month before Inferno, and in the longer term from its over-reliance on the Sensurround system; watched now, though, it is flawed largely through discontinuity of tone and the uneasy co-existence of both a strong human villain and a natural threat. Still, the film casts interesting light on the genre as a whole, sometimes complying with its standards and sometimes departing from them.

At the time Earthquake must have seemed something of a sure bet, overseen for Universal by Jennings Lang, a veteran agent-turned-producer who was more or less simultaneously working on Airport 1975, had lately been responsible for some high-profile critical successes including Play Misty For Me and High Plains Drifter, and was a supporter of Sensurround.

Director Mark Robson had only a few years earlier delivered the hit Valley of the Dolls. Co-writer Mario Puzo was riding high on The Godfather, and Charlton Heston, although his fortunes had waned somewhat during the 1960s, had been revived as a star by Planet of the Apes. In Earthquake he would again be one of those square-jawed “Heston heroes who lack irrational impulses”, as Pauline Kael memorably put it (though not referring to this movie); he had lately played a number of characters who defended civilisation against all odds, in films from El Cid to Khartoum and Major Dundee, and even had a recent disaster-movie credit in Skyjacked.

Yet somehow none of its creators could quite make it jell, and we are never sure quite what kind of film we are supposed to be watching. It may not have helped that Puzo apparently left the project to work on The Godfather Part II and was replaced by the obscure George Fox, who – from what I can discover about him – seemed to be as interested in researching earthquakes for factual accuracy as in crafting an engaging drama. He wrote a little about the production in a book, Earthquake: The Story of a Movie, that was published to coincide with release of the movie.

From early on in the film, we feel it doesn’t quite have the slickness of the disaster classics. Earthquake belongs to a genre that at heart took itself very seriously, yet it is more humorously self-referential than them – not least when Charlton Heston reads, very woodenly, a script with Geneviève Bujold, who plays a wannabe actress. Another character, Victoria Principal, mentions going to a Clint Eastwood movie; and in one of the film’s most visually striking sequences we later see this Eastwood flick, running sideways during the quake before the projector conks out.

One could even take the repeated joke of the Walter Matthau character, drunk at a bar and ignoring the earthquake while randomly spouting the names of famous figures (“Spiro T. Agnew!” “Peter Fonda!”), as a comment on the all-star concept.

But at the same time Earthquake is also bleaker than many others; by contrast Airport is upbeat and even Towering Inferno, which ends on a prediction of worse fires in the future, also offers the hope that better architecture can prevent them. In Earthquake, however, the ending is distinctly mournful – with its semi-famous final line, “this used to be a helluva town” and the comment that only 40 people out of 70 trapped in a basement survived. (The death tolls in classic disaster movies vary, from negligible in Airport and Inferno to near-total in Poseidon; numerically, Earthquake sits in the middle, but it is clearly much more about destruction than salvation.)

And it also has more sheer nastiness than all the others combined, notably in the miserable marriage of Heston and Ava Gardner – made all the more bitter by the way Heston feels obliged to save her and dies in the attempt, when he could have reached safety with his newer love Bujold – and in the repellent character of Jody, the retail worker and National Guardsman played by Marjoe Gortner.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Twilight Time has issued a Blu-ray release of the 1968 western "Bandolero!" as a region-free title that is limited to 3,000 units. The film is top-notch entertainment on all levels- the kind of movie that was considered routine in in its day but which can be more appreciated today. The story opens with a bungled bank robbery carried out by Dee Bishop (Dean Martin) and his motley gang. In the course of the robbery two innocent people are killed including a local businessman and land baron, Stoner (Jock Mahoney). The gang is captured by Sheriff July Johnson (George Kennedy) and his deputy Roscoe Bookbinder (Andrew Prine) and are sentenced to be hanged. Meanwhile Dee's older brother Mace (James Stewart), a rogue himself, gets wind of the situation and waylays the eccentric hangman while he is enroute to carry out the execution. By assuming the man's identity. he is able to afford Mace and his gang the opportunity to cheat death at the last minute. When they flee the town they take along an "insurance policy"- Stoner's vivacious young widow Maria (Raquel Welch) who they kidnap along the way. This opening section of the film is especially entertaining, mixing genuine suspense with some light-hearted moments such as Mace calmly robbing the bank when all the men ride off in a posse to chase down the would-be bank robbers.

Mace and Dee reunite on the trail and the gang crosses the Rio Grande into Mexico- with July and a posse wiling to violate international law by chasing after them in hot pursuit. Much of the film is rather talky by western standards but the script by James Lee Barrett makes the most of these campfire conversations by fleshing out the supporting characters. Dee's outlaw gang makes characters from a Peckinpah movie look like boy scouts. Among them is an aging outlaw, Pop Cheney (Will Geer), a well-spoken but disloyal, greedy man who is overly protective of his somewhat shy son, Joe (Tom Heaton). The presence of Maria predictably results in numerous gang members attempting to molest her but their efforts are thwarted by Dee, who always comes to her rescue. Before long, Maria is making goo-goo eyes at her protector, conveniently forgetting he is also the man who slew her innocent husband. (The script tries to get around this by explaining that while her husband was a decent man who treated her well, she could never get over the fact that he literally bought her as a teenager from her impoverished family). The story also puts some meat on the bone in terms of Dee and Mace's somewhat fractured relationship. Both of them have been saddle tramps but Mace informs Dee that his reputation as a notorious outlaw allowed their mother, who Dee neglected, to go to her grave with a broken heart. Every time the script might become bogged down in these maudlin aspects of the characters, a good dose of humor is injected.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Writing in the Washington Post, Sonny Bunch mourns the loss of Blockbuster Video and similar "box stores" that were reviled in their day for driving smaller businesses into oblivion. True, the mom and pop video rental stores begat Blockbuster, which dominated neighborhoods by presenting thousands of videos for rental. No small corner video shop could compete. Then streaming services rendered Blockbuster obsolete, just as Amazon did the same to local, independent book stores. But Bunch makes a poignant case to look back on the box store era with some degree of nostalgia. He points out that without browsing aisles of videos and books, consumers are largely unaware of interesting titles that are available. Gone is the day of the "impulse buy". He also extols the sheer pleasure of walking down aisles packed with titles of interest and perusing whether you should take one home. It's the nature of public sentiment to long for eras that have passed. Yes, streaming is here to stay...but I wouldn't rule out a comeback for neighborhood video stores. Remember, vinyl was deemed to be dead when the CD was introduced and the CD was deemed to be dead when streaming music entered the picture. Instead, vinyl is enjoying the kind of success it hasn't seen since the 1970s and Wal-Marts and Target stores still have racks packed with thousands of CDs.  Click here to read the article.

BY BILL DUELLY

(Photos copyright Bill Duelly. All rights reserved.)

Phil Lapp remembers being 6 years old and coping with a tinge of disappointment. You see, to be an extra in the movie filming in his hometown of Strasburg, PA, he had to be 7. So he was relegated to ‘keeping Lukas occupied’. The movie was Witness. Lukas was Lukas Haas, who was the young boy that witnessed a murder. It was a big event for this small Lancaster County community. Han Solo/Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford) was in it, so he would be around as well. Phil’s dad was an extra, most notably he’s the one in silhouette, after the funeral scene, driving the cart that Kelly and Lukas are lifting bales of hay onto. His does cherish those memories of playing a lot of card games with Lukas while Kelly McGillis looked on and would occasionally join in.

34 years later, many locals fondly recall the time Hollywood came to Lancaster County and how many were involved in some peripheral way. The phenomenon has certainly died down, but for many years, was credited with an unprecedented increase in tourism in the area. Some locations, such as Zimmermans General Store in Intercourse (yes the actual name of the town) and the surrounding streets saw frequent tourists, but the farm’s location was usually a closely guarded secret amongst the natives as deference to the owners who were initially Mennonite and later Amish (Mennonite allow photos, Amish do not). In fact the Amish community was rather upset at the time that Hollywood, the well of corrupting influences, would come to their community to make a movie. They urged their members not to cooperate with the film in anyway. In fact any Amish in the film are portrayed most likely by Mennonites (close to Amish but not quite).

Phil was one such local who is now running a specialized tour service called Lokal Experience. The focus is on small groups and unique specialized experiences in Lancaster County. On June 15, 2019, Phil and his group hosted a WITNESS Experience, which was a chance to spend the day, first viewing the movie and then heading off to the farm for tours and a meal.

The day started early in the morning at the Zoetropolis Cinema (https://zoetropolis.com/) located in downtown Lancaster, with a screening of the movie. This writer supplied some artifacts from his WITNESS collection to be displayed at the theater. Items included: video store display; one sheet; British and German lobby cards; copy of Co-Producers David Bombyck’s script; paperback tie-in novel and Academy Award promotional materials such as screening invites and free soundtracks. The 100 or so participants were treated to the behind the scenes documentary prior to the screening.

Then it was off to the farm for filming location tours and lunch. The farm to many is sacred ground and I could tell that many were in awe at just being there. The farm is not viewable from the street, and can only be seen by cresting a long driveway. At end of production Paramount repaved the road, but the past 34 years have taken their toll on it with various rough patches but it is still a sight to behold as one crested the hill. Paradoxically, it was the same, but different as well. The house itself is distinctly different, as it has a stone façade now and not the white shingles. The birdhouse that Harrison Ford’s car crashes into, is a replacement, as the screen-used one was stolen from the farm during the year of the film’s first release.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

In 1971, director Blake Edwards took a career diversion by venturing outside the comedy genre into Westerns with the release of "Wild Rovers", for which he also authored the screenplay. The film was a highly personal project for Edwards who had earlier in his career made some effective non-comedies that included "Experiment in Terror" and the highly acclaimed "Days of Wine and Roses". The film marked a brief and unhappy two-picture association with MGM, which was then under the control of the universally despised James Aubrey, who was nicknamed "The Smiling Cobra". Aubrey had a habit of second-guessing esteemed directors in an era in which few filmmakers retained the right of final cut. Consequently, Aubrey was known to eviscerate films to conform to his personal views regarding their commercial value. The year before, he took the scissors to "Kelly's Heroes" and cut out what star Clint Eastwood felt was the emotional heart of the film. (The missing footage has never been found and Eastwood never made another film for the studio.) Aubrey would do the same to "Wild Rovers", which had a leisurely-paced running time of 136 minutes that included an intermission. Aubrey had it cut to 106 minutes, thus outraging Edwards, who was known for his mercurial temper. Making matters worse, Aubrey also cut Edwards's follow-up film for MGM, "The Carey Treatment". Edwards had suffered a similar fate when Paramount chief Robert Evans had made cuts to Edwards's 1970 big budget musical "Darling Lili". Ultimately, Edwards sought revenge with his 1981 film "S.O.B." a scathing take-down of studio executives who interfere with the artistic visions of film directors.

"Wild Rovers" is lyrical and at times tender story that depicts the unlikely friendship between two ranch hands: middle-aged Ross Bodine (William Holden) and Frank Post ((Ryan O'Neal), a young twenty-something upstart with a cocky manner. They are both employed by Walter Buckman (Karl Malden), a stern but honorable rancher who owns an impressive cattle empire. Ross is getting weary of a back-breaking life and Frank fears following in his footsteps. Impulsively, they decide to rob the local bank which they manage to do successfully by holding the bank manager's family hostage. Not exactly a noble act, but Edwards mitigates the moral consequences by having Ross leave enough money to be given to Buckman to pay his ranch hands. It's a sign of sentiment on Ross's part but upon his departure, the banker and his wife decide to not tell Buckman about the gesture and keep the money for themselves. The script finds the outraged Buckman sending his sons (Joe Don Baker and Tom Skerritt) to raise a posse and relentlessly pursue the robbers. The film then morphs into a road trip story with Ross and Frank bonding and learning to respect each other. Ross is inspired by the younger man's zest for life and Frank learns to control his impulsiveness. The nagging flaw with Edwards' script, however, is that while Ross retains a sense of nobility and decency, Frank is trigger happy and occasionally cruel, a fact that Edwards attempts to mitigate by showing us Frank's sentimental attachment to a puppy, a plot device that plays out as pretentiously as it reads. Although "Wild Rovers" never achieves the classic stature that Edwards had envisioned, it is a very good film that has many attributes, not the least of which is a very fine performance by William Holden, who- like most actors- became more interesting as he aged. As for O'Neal, he was always competent as an actor but not very compelling. This is one of his better performances because Edwards provides him with an interesting character to absorb. Malden is always very good but his screen time in "Wild Rovers" is frustratingly limited. The film boasts superb cinematography by Philip Lathrop and a great score by Jerry Goldsmith, filling in for Edwards' usual composer-of-choice, Henry Mancini.

The film tanked at the box office and with critics. Edwards blamed it on MGM's virtual destruction of his vision for the final cut. Not helping matters was the bizarre ad campaign that featured O'Neal and Holden on the same horse with O'Neal giddily embracing a rather uncomfortable looking Holden. For a hard-bitten, action-filled Western, it was all wrong and implied a "Brokeback Mountain"-like relationship in an era that was far less enlightened, to put it mildly. Happily, the Warner Archive has released a restored version of the film and provided a gorgeous transfer. They've even included the original intermission and entr'acte so you can appreciate Jerry Goldsmith's score even more. Bonus extras include a very good vintage "making of" documentary that makes it clear how Holden and O'Neal did a lot of impressive stunt work and wrangling themselves. There is also a rather murky trailer that will make you appreciate how good the main feature looks on Blu-ray.

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(For full analysis of the making of "Wild Rovers", see Frank Aston's article in issue #40.)

BY TIM MCGLYNN

Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon (Paramount 1970) introduces the title character, scarred by an acid attack, as she leaves the hospital and rents a dilapidated house in small town Massachusetts. Her roommates are Arthur, an introverted epileptic and Warren, a paraplegic who is also gay. Otto Preminger’s 1970 film, based the novel by Marjorie Kellog, has been missing in action until Olive Films’ Blu-ray and DVD release.

Liza Minnelli stars in this charming story as Junie Moon, physically and emotionally damaged by a horrific encounter with a psychotic lover. Actor-Director Robert Moore (Murder By Decree, The Cheap Detective) is Warren, who will not be limited by his wheelchair in the pursuit of love and happiness. Ken Howard (1776, The White Shadow) is the shy Arthur, who suffers from seizures that seem to be brought on by stress.

After renting a small bungalow from the eccentric Miss Kellog (Kay Thompson), the three set up house and learn to survive by leaning on each other in various times of need. Arthur is offered a job at a local fish market by Mario (James Coco), but is fired when a nosy neighbor claims Arthur is a child molester. Mario, realizing his mistake, befriends the trio and offers them a vacation at a seaside resort.

While on their trip to the ocean Arthur declares his love for Junie, and Warren, much to his surprise, spends the night with a woman. The three are befriended by a local man played by Fred Williamson (Hammer, Black Caesar), who acts as their host. Along the way there are comic encounters with resort guests, hotel clerks and beachcombers. While short on plot, the movie is a wonderful character study concerning the importance of friendship and the overcoming of life’s obstacles.

Junie Moon is a marked departure for the usually bombastic Preminger in that he is more laid back and subtle in his observations of society’s problems and inequities. There are several flashback scenes exploring each character’s history including the use of hallucinations that Arthur experiences before his epileptic attacks.

BY TODD GARBARINI

I love Asian cinema. During the 1990’s I discovered a whole other cinematic world in the form of Hong Kong action films at some great Chinatown movie theaters in lower Manhattan, such as the long-gone Rosemary Theater on Canal Street which is now a Buddhist Temple. Even the Film Forum, with its gloriously narrow and Quasimodo posture-inducing seats, also sported its fair share of Hong Kong festivals with screenings of Siu-Tung Ching’s beloved A Chinese Ghost Story trilogy, the Swordsman trilogy, and the follow-up to Jonnie To’s Heroic Trio from 1993. Independent video stores situated in Asian and Indian neighborhoods also offered up these amazing Eastern adventures on VHS and the low picture quality and poorly displayed white subtitles mattered little to those of us enthralled by the action onscreen. I was lucky enough to locate a store that rented imported laserdiscs with letterboxed versions of these amazing films. No one, however, can have a serious discussion about this genre without including the inimitable Jackie Chan, a powerhouse of a stuntman who also acts in and even directs much of his own work.

Jackie Chan is known in the United States through only a handful of films, the first being Hal Needham’s 1981 comedy The Cannonball Run and its 1984 follow-up Cannonball Run II. He garnered greater exposure in 1995 with Rumble in the Bronx and his comedic team-up with Chris Tucker in the three Rush Hour films that he appeared in between 1998 and 2007, and a fourth is now rumored to be in the works. His Hong Kong-based work, though highly prolific, is much less available here and this is a great shame as these films are wildly entertaining and even flat out hilarious, easily lending themselves to repeat viewing. Getting his start in the Hong Kong film business following the void left by the untimely death of the late martial arts expert Bruce Lee, Mr. Chan worked his way through many roles and its his turn as a police inspector in 1985’s Police Story wherein his stunt work really shines.

Mr. Chan portrays an undercover police officer, Chan Ka-Kui, working for the Royal Hong Kong Police Force attempting to arrest crime lord Chu Tao (Chor Yuen). Naturally the deal goes sour and his cover is blown, and this results in some truly amazing stunts involving cars, a huge shanty town, and a double-decker bus (we learn later on that these dangerous stunts weren’t stunts at all, but rather mis-timed mistakes that were left in the film!). Later his bosses, Superintendent Li (Kwok-Hung Lam) and Inspector Bill Wong (Bill Tung), give him a tongue-lashing for the destruction caused by the investigation and so he’s placed on another assignment: to protect Selina Fong (Brigitte Lin), Chu Tao’s secretary. Her demeanor is blasé at best and after she shrugs off an offer of police protection, Ka-Kui convinces a subordinate to pretend to be a killer, sneaking into Selina’s apartment with the attempt “to kill her” in a very humorous sequence that illuminates Mr. Chan’s comedic talents when he “comes to the rescue”. Selina changes her mind, agreeing to testify against her boss in open court. Ka-Kui’s girlfriend May (the wonderful Maggie Cheung) comes into the picture when she surprises Ka-Kui at his apartment for his birthday and notices Selina who is afraid to remain at her own apartment following the attack. A series of miscommunications and misadventures ensues to give way to some truly spectacular set pieces. Selina inevitably discovers that her apartment “attack” was choreographed and embarrasses Ka-Kui in court the following day in a very amusing sequence.

Crime lord Chu Tao is released on bail and threatens to kill Selina, though a double-cross by a dirty Police Inspector who intends to frame Ka-Kui for murder leads Ka-Kui to take Superintendent Li hostage, but he is eventually freed. In one of the cinema’s first instances of blackmail via computer files that I can recall, Selina decides to breach her former boss’s computer system by downloading incriminating files. As a front, his office is in a shopping mall, and one of the craziest sequences of shopping mall carnage following John Landis’s The Blues Brothers (1980) ensues involving some top-notch stunt work. The film’s ending is abrupt and gives way to the sequel, Police Story 2 (1988).

BY DOUG OSWALD

James Garner is an American Army intelligence officer who is one of the men behind the planning of D-Day when he’s kidnapped by the Germans in neutral Portugal just days prior to the invasion of Normandy in “36 Hours,” released on Blu-ray as part of the Warner Archive Collection. Major Jefferson Pike (Garner) is sent on a routine intelligence gathering mission to Lisbon, but it turns out to be a ruse by the Germans to kidnap Pike in order to get him to reveal the invasion plans. They drug him and transport him to Germany where Pike wakes up six years later in a U.S. Army hospital suffering from amnesia. It’s 15 May 1950 and the war has been over for several years, but Pike can’t remember anything after his night in Lisbon.

In reality, it’s still a few days before D-Day and the Germans have created an elaborate deception in order to convince Pike he’s receiving treatment at a military hospital in American occupied Germany. The Allied invasion was victorious and the war is over. Pike’s doctor, Major Walter Gerber (Rod Taylor), is in reality a German psychiatrist who developed the elaborate plan in order to gather the invasion plan date and location for Nazi Germany. A base camp filled with fake Americans and German nationals are roaming the grounds to set Pike at ease and disorient him at the same time, but also to convince him he is indeed located at an American military hospital in Germany. The Germans have gone to elaborate steps to make the trap work by dying the edges of his hair gray and putting drops in his eyes to trick him into believing he needs prescription glasses in order for Pike to accept he has aged six years. There are fake newspapers in his room, pictures of his parents, American books and a fake radio station plays American “oldies” from the 1930s and early 40s. He also learns he’s married to Anna Hedler (Eva Marie Saint), his nurse for all these years and a Jewish concentration camp survivor. Gerber has 36 hours to complete his plan, but he is under extreme pressure from Gestapo agent Werner Peters (Otto Shack) to use torture in order to retrieve the information in Pike’s head.

The movie plays like an episode of the television series “Mission: Impossible” which started production two years later in 1966. The switch here is the bad guys perform a sting operation on the good guy. Things begin to unravel after Pike discovers an important detail the Germans overlooked in the charade. Character actor John Banner, a familiar face from television’s “Hogan’s Heroes,” appears as a local German border patrol agent who plays a key role in the finale.

I remember my first viewing of this WWII mystery classic on television in the late 1970s, before cable, satellite dish and home video. I love how the movie creates tension with knowledge of history ever on our mind and knowing this is a mystery rather than science fiction for we know the Nazi mission will fail. Or will it? Maybe Pike will reveal the D-Day invasion plans. Or maybe he will reveal too much and the German’s will not believe his statements. Either way, the viewer is like a fly on the wall - a voyeur of sorts following the action in secret as everything sorts itself out. There’s tension because we care about the protagonists and want them to succeed.. The film is directed by George Seaton, who also wrote the screenplay based on a story by Carl K. Hittleman and Luis H. Vance. Unknown to the production team, the plot for “36 Hours” was similar the short story “Beware the Dog” by Roald Dahl. As a result the production had to pay Dahl to avoid a lawsuit. As previously stated, the movie itself can be seen, in hindsight, as an influence on the style of “Mission: Impossible” with elaborate deceptions, disguises and triple crosses.

Garner is terrific as always. He had the ability to play likeable Jim Garner with his everyman masculinity while giving a believable and sympathetic portrayal to each unique character. Rod Taylor is equally likeable, even when playing a Nazi doctor. It’s hard not to root for him just a little despite the fact that his plan, incredible as it is, is so ingenious. Eva Marie Saint is an actress who appeared in a variety of movie roles through the 50s and 60s and an Academy Award winner as Best Actress for “On the Waterfront.” She’s always believable and understated with her natural acting style if not a little too glamorous in the role of a Nazi concentration camp survivor in this movie. She would team with Garner again in the 1966 classic racing movie “Grand Prix.” Otto Shack is terrific as the obligatory Nazi Gestapo agent ready to use torture to get the D-Day information. The supporting cast and sets work well enough to make the viewer believe that Pike would be convinced he was behind enemy lines.

Released in 26 November 1964 by Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in the UK (27 January 1965 in the US), the movie features an outstanding score by Dimitri Tiomkin and terrific widescreen black and white photography by Philip H. Lathrop. The light, dark and shadows give the movie a dream-like feeling as we join Pike in his nightmarish vision and possible alternate version of history. Yosemeti National Forest in central California stands in nicely for the Bavarian forest on the Swiss border. The production company had to remove any evidence they were in the park or that they transformed the Wawona Hotel into the military hospital in order to secure permission to film on location in Yosemeti. Certainly this was a cost saving measure, as filming on location in Bavaria may have been a budget issue. The movie clocks in at tight 115 minutes. The only extra on the disc is the trailer. This is a great addition on Blu-ray for James Garner fans and anyone looking for a well told mystery.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Burt Lancaster fans can rejoice that his 1974 thriller "The Midnight Man" finally gets a home video release in America with Kino Lorber's Blu-ray release. Even better news is that this is a special edition with an informative commentary track. Lancaster co-wrote and co-directed (both with Roland Kibbee) the murder mystery that plays out like a TV movie-of-the-week from the era. That isn't meant as a knock, given how good so many of the TV crime productions were in the 1970s. The film is based on David Anthony's novel "The Midnight Lady and the Mourning Man" and, refreshingly, it has an offbeat quality about it due to its location filming in and around Clemson University in South Carolina, which was very much a sleepier locale than it is today. Lancaster is cast as Jim Slade, a once respected Chicago police officer who flew off the handle and shot his wife's lover (though it isn't clear if he killed him.) He's spent a lot of time in stir and when we first see him, he is arriving in a small southern town by bus to pick up the pieces of his life. He's broke with few prospects except a job offered to him by his old friend and police colleague Quartz (Cameron Mitchell), who is now retired from the police force and heading a security company that looks after the local university. Slade will be working in the seemingly boring job of night watchman on the midnight shift at the school, where crime isn't a major problem. However, his timing is right in terms of alleviating boredom. No sooner does Slade start the job than a psychiatric counselor for troubled students informs him that his office had been broken into and the only thing missing were several audio tapes in which students confessed the most troubling aspects of their lives. The highly confidential tapes had not been listened to but it becomes clear that one student in particular, Natalie (Catherine Bach) is particularly troubled. Slade befriends her and discovers she's an emotional wreck about the missing tape but she won't tell him what was so sensitive about the recording. When Natalie ends up dead in her dorm room, the local police captain, Casey (Harris Yulin) takes over the case and immediately arrests a local Peeping Tom who had an interest in the victim. Slade, however, voices his skepticism and starts his own ad-hoc investigation. Along the way he ends up romancing his parole officer, Linda Thorpe (Susan Clark), who has a big city mentality when it comes to sexual permissiveness.

"The Midnight Man" is a complex thriller with plenty of requisite false leads and red herrings. It's leisurely-paced and that's a good thing in the current era of shoot 'em up crime movies and TV series. There are some exciting action scenes in the film but it's primarily about following clues, which Slade doggedly does despite being targeted for murder and not being able to trust anyone, including Captain Casey, with whom he is in constant conflict. Lancaster provides one of his most low-key performances. Some critics said he was sleepwalking through the part but this isn't so. He's an ex-con with a lot to lose so it's appropriate that he would maintain a quiet, polite demeanor. Lancaster never gave a bad performance in his career and he's particularly good here. The film has a marvelous supporting cast and directors Lancaster and Kibbee use them well. It's great to see Lancaster teamed again with the ever-underrated Susan Clark after the two starred in "Valdez is Coming" a few years before. Clark has an important role here and she's excellent. So, too, is Cameron Mitchell as the only true friend Slade seems to have in an increasingly hostile and dangerous town. It's also good to see Robert Quarry in small, non-horror film (he's very good.) Lancaster's son Bill also has a supporting role and acquits himself well. The finale unloads an abundance of complex explanations in a voice-over by Lancaster as the mystery is solved. Your mind might end up reeling but if you stop and think about it all, the clues were provided throughout the film.

The Kino Lorber release has a typically fine transfer and the audio commentary by film historians Howard S. Berger and Nathaniel Thompson is highly engaging and their subdued manner fits with the mood of the film itself. They genuinely like the movie and provide an abundance of interesting facts and insights. There is a also a trailer gallery for other Lancaster films available through Kino Lorber. Highly recommended.

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Last September, Time Life released the ultimate Robin Williams video set. Here is the official press release:

"You know that cartoon, that Tasmanian devil that comes out and just spins --

he was that, but eloquent and hilarious."

-- Billy Crystal

"He was like something waiting to happen...a very powerful anomaly."

-- Steve Martin

"Everybody else prepared, Robin was just a natural...

and he worked on every level." 

-- Jay Leno

LEGENDARY COMEDIAN.

OSCAR®-WINNING ACTOR.

THIS SEPTEMBER, JOIN TIME LIFE FOR THE

DEFINITIVE DVD COLLECTION CELEBRATING

THE COMEDY CAREER OF A BELOVED ICON

ROBIN WILLIAMS: COMIC GENIUS

Across 22 DVDs and 50+ Hours, the Electrifying Comic Lights Up the Room in This Ultimate, One-of-a-Kind Compendium Spanning 40 Years on TV, Including All Five HBO Stand-Up Specials Together for the Very First Time, Never-Before-Released Performances and Backstage Footage, Talk Show and Late Night Appearances, Rare Archival Clips, Brand New Interviews Featuring Billy Crystal, Steve Martin, Jay Leno, Martin Short, Pam Dawber, Lewis Black, and Zak Williams, a Collectible Memory Book Featuring Archival Photos, Robin's Tour Notes, and More!

AVAILABLE EXCLUSIVELY AT ROBINWILLIAMS.COM

FAIRFAX, VA (September 25, 2018) - Robin Williams was a generational talent, graced with comedic brilliance, rapid-fire improvisation, and a deep well of warmth and compassion that translated to every role he inhabited. From his breakout role in ABC's Mork & Mindy to his Academy Award®-winning performance in Good Will Hunting, the iconic actor displayed an inimitable artistry that made him beloved by millions. This September, join Time Life, in conjunction with the Trustees of the Robin Williams Trust, in celebrating the incomparable career of the singularly innovative actor with ROBIN WILLIAMS: COMIC GENIUS. 

Available exclusively at RobinWilliams.com beginning September 25th, this definitive collection of Williams' comedy highlights arrives as interest in his life and career increases in the wake of HBO's critically acclaimed documentary, Robin Williams: Come Inside My Mind from Emmy® Award-winning director Marina Zenovich and Oscar-winning producer Alex Gibney, and Dave Itzkoff's biography Robin, a New York Times best-seller. Celebrating the actor's memorable 40-year career, from his uproarious turn as loveable alien Mork and his legendary HBO stand-up specials to his numerous appearances on late night, this handsome, 22-disc collection, housed in deluxe packaging includes: 

All five HBO stand-up specials together for the very first time, including Off the Wall (1978), An Evening with Robin Williams (1983), An Evening at the MET (1986), Live on Broadway (2002) and Weapons of Self Destruction (2009)

Never-before-released concert specials, including Robin's full MGM Grand Garden stand-up from 2007 and the Montreal stop on his last tour, a conversation on stage between Williams and comedian David Steinberg

Memorable talk show and late night TV appearances on The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, The Oprah Winfrey Show, The Graham Norton Show, Saturday Night Live and more

Rare, never-before-seen clips including early stand-up, raw footage from HBO's promo shoots, a hilarious toast to Richard Pryor by Robin as Mrs. Doubtfire, and more

Brand new interviews with close friends and family including Billy Crystal, Steve Martin, Jay Leno, Eric Idle, David Steinberg, Lewis Black and Zak Williams

11 hilarious episodes of Mork & Mindy, including the two-part pilot!

James Lipton's Emmy® Award-nominated 90-minute interview with Robin on Inside the Actors Studio, plus deleted scenes

A comprehensive collection of Robin's USO shows around the world

Original and newly created bonus features including behind-the-scenes footage, local highlights from tour stops, promos and more. Featurettes include: The Early Years, San Francisco: Where It All Started, Comic Genius, and TV's Best Guest

Critically acclaimed 2018 HBO documentary, Robin Williams: Come Inside My Mind from Emmy® Award-winning director Marina Zenovich and Oscar-winning producer Alex Gibney.

"Robin Williams: Uncensored", a collectible 24-page, full-color memory book featuring rare, archival photos from award-winning photographer Arthur Grace, reminiscences from friends and colleagues, Robin's personal tour notes and more. 

Uncensored, electric, intense and unfailingly hilarious, Williams made it his life's work to make people laugh--whether he was holding forth on culture, politics, the human body or drugs--with razor-sharp wit and insight. As his long-time friend Billy Crystal said, "In the 40 odd years he was in front of us, especially on television, he never let you down. He was always funny, he always did something new." And, in unforgettable ways, ROBIN WILLIAMS: COMIC GENIUS reveals and celebrates the wide range of his incredible talents like never before.

BY FRED BLOSSER

“The Adventures of Robin Hood,” which aired on CBS from 1955 to 1959, was an early example of a television series produced in the U.K. and imported by an American network into U.S. living rooms with great success -- a forerunner of numerous hit shows to follow from across the Atlantic, including “The Avengers,” “Secret Agent/ Danger Man”, too many “PBS Masterpiece Theater” favorites to list, and more recently “Downton Abbey.” It was also an early example, replicated as well by “Downton Abbey,” of a popular TV series leveraged into a big-screen theatrical movie. The year after “The Adventures of Robin Hood” ended its U.S. network run, its producer Sidney Cole and star Richard Greene created a feature-film version, “Sword of Sherwood Forest,” in partnership with Hammer Studios, for release here through Columbia Pictures. Although supporting roles were recast, Greene returned as Robin, and some principals from the series’ production crew were reunited as well. Director of Photography Ken Hodges returned, the screenplay was provided by Alan Hackney, who had scripted many of the episodes of the series, and the director was Terence Fisher, already a Hammer veteran, who had directed several series episodes. Media historians tend to characterize the TV and theatrical movie industries in the 1950s and early ‘60s as bitter rivals for viewership, but the two industries in fact often enjoyed a friendlier synergy of mutual convenience. In the case of “Sword of Sherwood Forest,” the popularity of the earlier series provided theaters with a built-in audience for the movie. In turn, the film reminded fans to watch for the syndicated reruns of the TV show, which continued to be broadcast on local stations well into the 1970s.

In the movie, which has been released on Blu-ray from Twilight Time in a limited edition of 3,000 units, a well-dressed, badly wounded man flees into Sherwood Forest, escaping from a posse led by the Sheriff of Nottingham (Peter Cushing). Through Maid Marian (Sarah Branch), the sheriff approaches Robin Hood with the offer of a pardon if he’ll turn over the wounded fugitive, but Robin refuses. He knows, even if Marian has yet to learn, although she quickly does, that the offer of clemency from his old enemy the sheriff “isn’t worth the breath he uses to make the promise.” The fugitive eventually dies from his wound, but not before passing along a brooch stamped with a mysterious emblem, and mentioning the name of a town, Bawtry. Leaving Little John (Nigel Green) to lead the Merry Men in his absence, Robin investigates with the help of Marian and Friar Tuck (Niall McGinnis). Gradually, they uncover a plot involving the charming but secretive Earl of Newark (Richard Pasco), his henchman the sheriff, an attempted land grab, a visit by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and plans to carry out a high-level assassination if the land grab fails.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lober is releasing a number of value-priced Blu-ray double features with similarly-themed films. Among them is the combo of "Betsy's Wedding" and "Holy Matrimony". The first movie is a 1990 release starring and directed by Alan Alda, who had directed three previous feature films. Anyone who has been involved in planning a wedding knows that the old adage "The more the merrier!" rings hollow. In fact, the logistics of planning a wedding can become increasingly complicated and frustrating in direct correlation with the number of well-meaning people who decide to involve themselves. There's always the risk that the betrothed couple will be overwhelmed by logistics and that the wedding plans are catered to please everyone but them. Such is the case in "Betsy's Wedding". Alda is cast as Eddie Hopper, a successful real estate speculator who invests money in building homes that he hopes to sell for a quick profit. Lately, however, his instincts have been troublesome and his latest venture is proving to be a white elephant that is draining his savings. At the same time, his youngest daughter Betsy (Molly Ringwald) and her boyfriend Jake (Dylan Walsh) announce they intend to get married. Both are left-wing progressives who are also social activists who disdain blatant displays of wealth. They want a low-key civil ceremony with only a handful of guests. However, Eddie and his wife Lola (Madeline Kahn) argue that a much grander, traditional wedding is called for so as not to offend family members. Their resistance worn down, Betsy and Jake reluctant concede, which opens a Pandora's Box of bad luck for all involved. Eddie can't afford to put on the wedding he has lobbied for so he turns to his brother-in-law Oscar (Joe Pesci), a slimy business "tycoon" who, in reality, is also short of cash. Since he can't find the money to lend Eddie for the wedding, he introduces him to a local mob boss, Georgie (Burt Young), who puts up the funds but then integrates himself into Eddie's life and plans for the wedding. A parallel story line centers on Eddie and Lola's other daughter Connie (Ally Sheedy), a New York City police officer who is stuck in a perpetual mode of depression, shying away from people and bruised by the fact that her younger sister will marry before she does. She is elevated from the blues by Georgie's bodyguard Stevie Dee (Anthony Lapaglia), a slick mobster who sounds like Rocky Balboa on steroids but who curiously speaks to everyone with excessive politeness. Has is obsessed with Connie and slowly but surely succeeds in wooing her into coming out of her shell. As the wedding date nears, the pressure mounts on everyone. Eddie's business dealings with George almost get him assassinated in an attempted mob hit, Betsy and Jake are barely on speaking terms and on the wedding day and a torrential rain storm threatens to collapse the large tent structure the reception is being held in. Eddie receives solace from imaginary conversations with his dear, departed father (Joey Bishop). 

"Besty's Wedding" was not well-received by critics or audiences back in the day and proved to be the final feature film to date directed by Alan Alda. Yet, I found it to be consistently funny and Alda excels as both actor and director, milking maximum laughs from an inspired cast. The scene-stealer is Lapaglia, one of the few cast members to receive kudos from reviewers. His sensitive tough guy routine is both amusing and endearing. The film isn't hilarious at any point but it's never less than entertaining, as you might imagine any movie that teams Joe Pesci and Burt Young would be.

"Holy Matrimony" was unceremoniously dumped by Disney into a handful of theaters in 1994 before being relegated to home video. It's total theatrical gross in North America was about $700,000. As with "Betsy's Wedding", it was directed by a popular actor, in this case Leonard Nimoy. Ironically, just as "Betsy's Wedding" represented Alda's last direction (to date) of a feature film, so too did "Holy Matrimony" mark Nimoy's last directorial effort on the big screen. The premise is hardly original, centering on a protagonist who seeks shelter in a religious community to evade pursuers. This plot device dates back to the 1940s with John Wayne in "Angel and the Badman" and its unacknowledged 1984 remake "Witness". Here we find Patricia Arquette as Havana, a sultry young woman from the other side of the tracks who is fed up with being exploited by performing provocative routines at a carnival tent located in a fairgrounds. She is paid a miserly wage by the owner who she comes to resent. She and her equally impoverished boyfriend Peter (Tate Donovan) rob the owner and flee in their car, but not before being identified. With the police searching for them, they cross into Canada and take refuge in an Amish-like religious colony where Peter was raised before leaving for the outside world. They pretend to want to immerse themselves in the rustic lifestyle but Havana's coarse nature and foul mouth make the elders suspicious of their motives. Peter hides the cache of stolen loot but before he can divulge its location to Havana, he is killed in an automobile accident. The colony elders view this as a way to get rid of Havana by informing her that customs dictate that she must marry Peter's brother, in this case twelve year-old Ezekiel (Joseph Gordon-Levitt). However, Havana- who needs to stay until she can locate the stash of hidden money- agrees to the arrangement, much to the shock of all involved- especially young Ezekiel who is appalled at having to be married at such a young age. The film deftly handles the possible distasteful elements of this reverse "Lolita" situation by making it clear that both husband and wife sleep in separate rooms. The one funny sex gag involves Ezekiel trying to impress his friends that he is satisfying his new wife only to have the scenario backfire much to his embarrassment when it is revealed he is actually in the bedroom alone.

Much of what follows is predictable. As with all movie plots in which the male and female protagonists start off hating each other, there is no doubt that Havana and Ezekiel will grow to respect and like each other, with Havana acting more like a big sister than a wife. Once the money is located, Havana is told to accompany Ezekiel back to the States to return the loot to its rightful owner. What follows is a road trip in which the two share plenty of personal thoughts and have to avoid a corrupt FBI agent (John Schuck), who is hot on their trail, determined to steal the money for himself. The story climaxes back at the state fair where Havana originally worked. She's now determined to return the stolen money, all the while trying to evade the police and the FBI guy who are hot on her trail. Director Nimoy capably blends both sentiment and comedy during the course of the film, though the movie's main attributes are the performances by Arquette and especially young Gordon-Levitt who shows star power even at this early stage of his career. There is also a very fine performance by Armin-Mueller Stahl as the elder of the religious community. Refreshingly, the film doesn't mock or humiliate the members of the religious colony. Rather, it is "fish-out-of-water" Havana who bears the brunt of most of the humor. While "Holy Matrimony" is nothing very special, it does seem to have suffered an undeserved fate by being released to only a small number of theaters. It is certainly on par with most mid-range comedies but apparently Disney felt it had very little boxoffice appeal.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray combo features very fine transfers of both films and includes their original trailers. Recommended.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

I have to admit that I hadn't a clue as to what Intruder in the Dust was about until I viewed the DVD released through the Warner Archive. The film is a powerful indictment of the horrors of racism, filmed by MGM during a period when the American Civil Rights Movement was just beginning to heat up. We have a tendency to accuse Hollywood studios of relegating African-American actors to being mere window dressing in films of this era, or worse, casting them as comic relief in often degrading ways. However, this 1949 achievement should be much higher on the radar of retro movie lovers. While most studio productions steered clear of the problem of racism in the American South during the period when segregation was still law, this excellent film addresses the issue head-on. There were some talented people who brought the story to the screen in 1949. Esteemed director Clarence Brown was behind the camera and the screenplay was written by the great Ben Maddow, based on a novel by William Faulkner.

The film was shot on location in Oxford, Mississippi and centers on the murder of a local white businessman who was shot in the back. The prime suspect is Lucas (Juano Hernandez), a middle-aged black farmer who has incurred the wrath of local bigots because he is proud and independent and fails to take on the subserviant persona of the "good Negro". Causing more resentment is the fact that Lucas owns his own farm, a prime piece of land that invokes jealousy from less successful local whites. Lucas maintains his calm demeanor even when he is jailed and is awaiting the inevitable murder at the hands of a mob. His one white friend comes to his aid: a teenager named Chick Mallison (Claude Jarman Jr.). Chick convinces his uncle, lawyer John Stevens (David Brian) to defend him. Stevens agrees because he doesn't want a murder committed, but even he believes Lucas is guilty. He tells the seemingly doomed man that he can't get a fair trial, that he doesn't believe he is innocent and that he should have shown proper deference to the bigots at all times. This attitude is what passed for enlightened thinking during this period. Ultimately, Stevens becomes convinced that his client is being framed and the plot turns to to who-dunnit as an oddball group of progressives fights against time to find the real murderer before Lucas is lynched or burned alive. The only whites in town who will assist Stevens and Chick are an elderly woman (Elizabeth Patterson) and the local sheriff (Will Geer), who has a condescending attitude towards blacks but is courageous enough to stand up to the worst elements of the population.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

In my review of Kino Lorber's Blu-ray release of the 1979 disaster film "Meteor",  I observed that the disaster movie genre had peaked with the release of Irwin Allen's "The Towering Inferno" in 1974. Yet, that didn't stop studios from beating a dead horse in an attempt to squeeze some more juice out of the tried-and-true formula of gathering an all-star cast, then figuring out ways to drown, bury or incinerate the characters portrayed on screen. One of the more obscure attempts to keep the disaster film cycle relevant was "Avalanche", a movie produced by Roger Corman and directed  and scripted by one of his proteges, Corey Allen, who would go on to establish a respectable career as a director of major television shows. When you approach a Corman production, you tend to give some special dispensation for certain cinematic sins that you wouldn't accord more mainstream productions. Corman, who happily embraces his legendary status as a man who made major profits from films with minor budgets, knew how to stretch the soup in the cinematic sense. Rarely armed with ample production funds, Corman cut corners whenever possible but still managed to retain a certain elegance to his productions. In 1978, he jumped on the fading disaster movie bandwagon with "Avalanche".  He hired Rock Hudson as the leading man because Hudson, at this point in his career, realized that he was no longer a hot commodity as a boxoffice draw in feature films (although he did successfully transition to a popular presence on television.) Corman also cast Mia Farrow and respected supporting actor Robert Forster for additional name recognition. He secured permission to film at a major ski resort in Durango, Colorado and out-sourced the special effects work to a company called Excelsior! 

The film follows the general formula of the disaster film genre in that the victims-to-be are gathered for a major social occasion, unaware that nature is working overtime to thwart their fun. Rock Hudson plays David Shelby, an arrogant developer who has invested his life savings to build a vacation paradise in the Rocky Mountains. He has disdain for local environmentalists who have warned him that his destruction of an an abundance of trees on his massive property has removed a natural barrier to the inevitable avalanches that will occur.  Shelby is preoccupied with his grand opening festivities and is simultaneously trying to woo back his ex-wife Caroline (Mia Farrow), who is attending as his guest. He's also busy trying to entertain his sassy, wise-cracking mother,  Florence (Jeanette Nolan), who is being shepherded around the resort by David's major domo Henry McDade (Steve Franken in a rare dramatic role.) Meanwhile, local environmental activist and nature photographer Nick Thorne (Robert Forster) becomes increasingly concerned about the massive buildup of snow on the mountain peaks that are directly in line with the resort. He attempts to alleviate some of the danger by strategically using a snow cannon to set off controlled mini avalanches. Intermingled with all of this are the expected subplots involving minor characters who are set up to be inevitable victims. Barry Primus is a TV sports announcer who is broadcasting from the grand opening and who must contend with the fact that his estranged wife Tina (Cathey Paine) is on premises and rubbing his nose in it by blatantly carrying on an affair with egotistical super star skier Bruce Scott (Rick Moses). Scott, in turn, is rubbing Tina's nose in it by blatantly sleeping with another woman, thus causing Tina to go ballistic and consider suicide. Meanwhile, David Shelby finds time to unwind by spending some quality time in a hot tub with with his naked secretary (thus allowing Roger Corman to slip in a bit of T&A). Although the story seems set up to have the disastrous avalanche occur during the opening night festivities, screenwriter Allen throws the audience a curve ball by avoiding that cliche and saving the action for the following afternoon when, amid a particularly vicious snow mobile race, a small plane piloted by one of Shelby's employees encounters bad weather and slams into a nearby mountain, thus triggering the avalanche. This is where the movie progresses beyond cliches and becomes unexpectedly enjoyable. All of the standard disaster movie shtick is present, as both lovable and loathsome characters meet predictable fates, but the film's limited production resources somehow work in its favor. We're well aware that we're watching a Corman production but somehow the inventiveness that is required to carry it all off is quite admirable. Certain plot points are introduced and inexplicably abandoned including an insinuation that Shelby has bribed local political officials to overlook his clear violation of environmental protection rules in order to build his resort. This was one of Rock Hudson's final films as an "above the title" leading man. He's grayer and a bit paunchier than we'd seen him during his heyday, but he still had star power to spare and made for a dashing leading man, whether its skinny dipping in the hot tub or personally leading rescue parties in acts of derring doo to extricate victims of the tragedy. The film's showpiece sequence is a climactic scene in which Shelby must rescue Caroline, who is dangling from wrecked bridge above a ravine.  It's well-directed and genuinely suspenseful. 

It' easy to pick apart a film like "Avalanche", as it squarely fits into the "guilty pleasure" category. However, the film does a lot with very little as opposed to other misfires in this genre that did very little with a lot (aka "The Swarm"). The Kino Lorber Blu-ray edition features the original trailer and a "making of" featurette in which Roger Corman extols the virtues of the film. He admits the effects were rather shoddy and recalls his outrage when he discovered the SFX company had added "red snow". Corman hit the roof and it was changed to a bluish substance that he admits still looks pretty phony.  Robert Forster recalls that the "snow" was actually little pieces of plastic that were strewn by the hundreds of thousands over the scenic landscape. He remembers his dismay at the realization that none of these bits were biodegradable and many must still be contaminating the landscape of the Durango ski resort where the movie was filmed. Corman makes the claim that the film was actually a major financial success. He says his budget was only $1.7 million and that a TV sale for $2 million netted him an immediate $300,000 profit. The tale sounds a bit fanciful because it seems hard to believe that even in 1978 you could make a movie like this with three relatively big names for only $1.7 million. (Other sources give unsubstantiated estimates of the budget at around $6 million, which seems more plausible.) "Avalanche" is not near the top of the heap of disaster movies but it certainly doesn't rank at the bottom of the pack, either. The Kino Lorber release has an impressive transfer and the inclusion of those bonus extras make this title highly recommended for fans of this genre. 

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This ad appeared in Boxoffice magazine in April 1968 extolling the longevity of Fox's three big roadshow presentations. For the unenlightened, "roadshow" films were big budget productions that played in grand movie palaces in select cities. It could often be many months before these films came to neighborhood theaters nationwide. What is remarkable about this ad is that it illustrates that even after such films went "wide" to hundreds of other theaters, people still paid top dollar to enjoy seeing them in the roadshow presentations. Consider that "The Sound of Music" opened in 1965 and "The Sand Pebbles" and "The Bible" both opened in 1966. Yet, years later, the roadshow venues were still showing these films. Today, even blockbuster movies aren't in theaters very long because so much of the profit comes from a quick turnaround onto video and streaming services. However, in those days when movie theaters provided the only forum in which to see favorite blockbusters, fans would patronize theaters to see them repeatedly. This afforded them the opportunity to see the movies in their original versions, as studios often cut considerable footage when releasing them to local theaters.

Click here to order Cinema Retro's Movie Classics edition devoted to Roadshow movies of the 1960s.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Samuel Fuller's 1959 crime thriller "The Crimson Kimono" has been released as a Twilight Time limited edition (3,000 units) Blu-ray. The film finds Fuller in full "triple threat" mode as director, producer and screenwriter. It's also fits comfortably into Fuller's oeuvre in that it's an off-beat story with quirky, well-defined characters and relationships. Set in Los Angeles, the movie opens with the shocking cold-blooded murder of a popular stripper by an unseen assassin. As with the works of Hitchcock, Fuller dismisses the notion that there is safety in numbers, as the victim is killed while fleeing her pursuer through crowded streets. The killer gets away and the story introduces us to the detectives assigned to the case. They are Det. Sgt. Charlie Bancroft (Glenn Corbett) and his partner Det. Joe Kojaku (James Shigeta), two Korean War veterans who served together in combat and who are now chummy enough to share a fashionable bachelor pad. They discover that a local artist, Chris Downs (Victoria Shaw), had some interaction with the stripper and is aware of a suspicious man she associated with. When Chris's sketch of the suspect ends up on the front pages, she finds herself the target of a failed assassination attempt. Charlie and Joe suggest that she can be safely hidden away in their apartment. Naturally, sparks begin to fly considering the three principal characters are extremely attractive. Charlie finds himself falling hard for Chris, but she is unaware of his feelings. Meanwhile, she expresses her desires for Joe, who clearly wants to reciprocate but is hesitant to humiliate the love-struck Charlie. If all this sounds like a high school romance it must be said that under Fuller' assured direction, it is anything but. The scene in which Chris and Joe slowly and almost reluctantly admit to their mutual attraction is superbly written and enacted by Shaw and Shigeta and brims with sexual tension.

The murder mystery is clearly the MacGuffin here. It's mostly a catalyst to bring this love triangle to life. Fuller places most of the action in L.A.'s Little Tokyo community and the film concentrates on the character's interactions with the Japanese-American population. The most interesting character is Joe, who is Japanese-American. When we first see him he is confident, witty and charismatic, all traits that are shared by Charlie. The Butch and Sundance-like relationship goes into a nosedive after Joe confesses his love for Chris. Although clearly heartbroken, Charlie keeps his reaction restrained, only to have the guilt-ridden Joe accuse him of latent racism. He's wrong but can't be convinced otherwise. A lifetime of battling to be socially accepted in a predominantly white society has brought out his own paranoia and reverse racism. It all leads to a tension-packed conclusion that mingles the strained relationship between the three characters and a chase for the killer through an exotic parade celebrating Japanese culture that plays out in similar style to the Junkanoo sequence in "Thunderball".

There is much to commend about this film, which- like most Fuller productions- was shot on a modest budget in B&W with actual locations favored over studio sets. Perhaps Fuller didn't have the funds to rely heavily on sets and thus filmed on location. In any event, this tactic adds immeasurable grit and realism to his movies. Glenn Corbett is likable and fine in an understated performance, Victoria Shaw is excellent as the woman who innocently becomes the instrument that divides two good friends and James Shigeta, who along with Corbett made his screen debut with this film, shows the skills that would quickly elevate him to international stardom. Anna Lee is outstanding as "Mac", an aging artist with a gruff personality who swizzles hard liquor and smokes stogies while churning out comments like "A man is just a man, but a good cigar is a smoke!"

BY TODD GARBARINI

The 1970’s were a time of much spookiness and speculation in this country. Unidentified Flying Objects (UFO’s), a publicity-shy Plesiosaur called Nessie steaking out the Scottish Highlands, Sasquatch “sightings”, ghosts, satanic cults, witchcraft, and the threat of nuclear catastrophe highlighted the newspapers when Vietnam, Richard Nixon and Watergate weren’t. Between 1977 and 1982, Leonard Nimoy’s narration provided the basis for nearly 150 speculative and generally outright creepy episodes of In Search Of…Similarly-themed television specials were even categorized by TV Guide as “speculation” in their genre listings. I even recall a scenario in 1979 that was reported in a local newspaper concerning the discovery of ribcages and bowls of blood at a nearby campground. Yikes!

May 1970 saw the release of Hal Lindsey and Carole C. Carlson’s book The Late Great Planet Earth, a grimly-titled caveat in eschatological terms detailing the end of the world and destruction to humankind as we know it (it was followed up in 1972 with Satan Is Alive and Well on Planet Earth and in 1982 with The 1980s: Countdown to Armageddon). The genesis of this line of thinking has its roots in the Holy Bible, specifically the Book of Revelation which is the final book of the New Testament. What better way to get the word out than in a major motion picture? The book was optioned for a film in 1976 by Pacific International Enterprises, known as PIE for short, which was both a film production and distribution company founded two years earlier by Arthur R. Debs (it folded in 2001) for the purpose of releasing “family films”. How they came to the subject of Armageddon is anyone’s guess. Between 1976 and 1978, interviews were conducted with renowned thinkers, scientists and religious folks to get their views and interpretations of the Bible and the promise of pestilence.

The film sports the same title as the book and was released in a good number of neighborhood theatres on Wednesday, January 17, 1979. It opens with a sequence involving a group of men chasing a Gandalf wannabe up a mountain (in reality, Vaszquez Rocks in California where Captain James T. Kirk fought the Gorn in the Star Trek episode “Arena” in 1966) and pushing him to his death. These are actors, of course, and they look like they might have tried out to be the apostles in Martin Scorsese’s first attempt to bring The Last Temptation of Christ to the screen via Paramount Pictures on a minimal budget. Orson Welles appears with a skull meant to represent the fallen man from thousands of years earlier and sets the film’s tone by explaining how the ancient Hebrews believed that a prophet was God’s Man and spoke the Words of God, foretelling, many centuries before, of events to come. The prophet was killed because he wasn’t accurate one hundred percent of the time and therefore was deemed a fraud.

The film talks of the Anti-Christ entering the world of politics – shades of Omen III: The Final Conflict (1983)? There are many predictions made using stock footage to enunciate impending doom. However interesting or frightening the claims, the orator’s guessing of the timeline is vague at best. Something that was correctly predicted at the time of the film’s shooting was the estimate of the world population 40 years hence to be roughly 8 billion people. It is closer to 7.5 billion, but not a bad estimate.

Earthquakes, world famine, floods, killer bees (I recall this threat in 1979 and wondered how they came about. The film provides the not-so-surprising explanation) were the stuff of disaster movies in the 1970s. I’m not sure if Planet Earth is a statement of veracity or pure bollocks, but it’s an interesting examination of prophesies, nonetheless.

The film has been recently released on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber/Scorpion and the transfer is exceptional. There are two bonus features. The first is a making-of featurette that runs fourteen minutes and is comprised of interviews with nearly ten people behind-the-scenes. Roger Riddell is the film’s producer who discusses how the movie came into being. Alan Belkin, President of American Cinema, a division of American Communications Industries, shares his memories of the film. The rough cut was two hours; the film’s running time is 86 minutes. Composer Dana Kaproff provides an exceptional score that is one of the film’s strongpoints (it deserves a soundtrack album release) and he explains his role as a composer. Tom Doddington, head of Sound and Production, explains how Orson Welles was a consummate professional, going so far as to record his voiceover at his house. Thomas Nicely, one of the actors running in the opening sequence, also weighs in. Lynn McCallon and Anne Goursaud were editors on the film. Jean Higgins, Head of Production for American Cinema, and David Miller, Head of Distribution, discuss the film’s marketing.

Bonus features consist of a selection of trailers: theatrical trailer and TV spot for The Late Great Planet Earth (1979); Go Tell the Spartans (1978) theatrical trailer, Charlie Chan and the Curse of the Dragon Queen TV spot; The Apple (1980) theatrical trailer; and The Salamander (1981) theatrical trailer.

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Michele Legrand, the French composer who won three Academy Awards, has died at age 86. Legrand originally hit the big time as a crooner and pianist with his 1954 album "I Love Paris" which went on to be an international sensation, selling more than 8 million copies. Other hit albums followed and he began to score feature films. With more than 200 films to his credit, Legrand's style of scoring films would is considered "old school" today, employing lush, romantic melodies that have included some of the most memorable film scores of all time. He first gained international attention in film scoring with the 1964 French production "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg", a romance in which literally every word of dialogue was sung. The film earned him three Oscar nominations and the best known song from the film, "I Will Wait for You" became a major hit that was covered by many artists. He would also create the score for the related 1967 film "The Young Girls of Rochefort".

The following year, Legrand won an Oscar for Best Song for "The Windmills of Your Mind", a puzzling but hypnotic piece with lyrics by Alan and Marilyn that perfectly fit the stylish crime caper "The Thomas Crown Affair".  Noel Harrison sung the piece in the film but it was covered by many artists and Dusty Springfield had a Top 40 version of it. Other Oscars followed for his haunting score for "Summer of '42" and "Yentl". For more about his life and career click here.

By Todd Garbarini

Following the financial success of John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) and Sean Cunningham’s Friday the 13^th (1980), movie studios were making slasher films in large quantities. They didn’t necessarily want to, they just knew that there were scores to be made at the box office. Producers and directors alike were trying to come up with the next big franchise to keep pumping out money makers for years to come. The success of Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) directly inspired The Toolbox Murders (1978). Likewise, Maniac (1980), released in New York City on Friday, January 30, 1981 (the same day as David Cronenberg’s Scanners), was the result of a brainstorming conversation between the film’s eventual director Bill Lustig and his friend Frank Pesce (who can be seen as the restaurant manager in James Toback’s 1978 film Fingers and as fugitive Carmine in Martin Brest’s 1988 comedy Midnight Run. His life story was also the subject of the 1991 comedy 29^th Street, directed by George Gallo who, incidentally, penned Midnight Run). The idea was to make a horror film that could be billed as “Jaws on land.” Jaws (1975), of course, changed the cinematic landscape and how movies are distributed and promoted using catchy tag lines, effective advertising campaigns, and rolling out a film in hundreds of movie theaters at once. It also provided the basis for obvious and cheap imitations and rip-offs. Maniac isn’t so obvious to the untrained eye.

Shot back-to-back in the fall and brutal winter of 1979 with much of the same crew from Friday the 13^th, Maniac stars the under-rated, under-utilized and, unfortunately, late Joe Spinell, an actor of considerable range who, despite his intimidating stance and demeanor, was actually a thoughtful and exceedingly nice personality on the set and behind-the-scenes, always eager to help fellow performers. Here he plays Frank Zito, a middle-aged man who lives alone in a New York City apartment amid toys and mannequins who double as his friends and personal company following a childhood ruined at the hands of an overbearing and physically abusive mother whom he lashes out against when he comes into physical contact with women. Following in the footsteps of the slasher films of the time, Maniac’s theme of an outcast with sexual hang-ups has provided more than enough fodder as a theme for disturbed young men who engage in ruthless killing sprees. Frank converses with the mannequins which are adorned with the real scalps and clothing of women who met their end at his hands, thus giving credence to the notion that serial killers keep trophies of their victims, a point spouted by Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs ten years later. Not all his victims are women, however. One night he follows a couple and shoots the man (Tom Savini!) point blank with a double-barreled shotgun before adding his girlfriend to his macabre collection. On another night he spots two nurses at a hospital (one of them is played by former porn actress Sharon Mitchell) and follows one of them into a subway bathroom in the film’s creepiest and most unsettling sequence.

A chance encounter with a photographer named Anna (Caroline Munro, who actually got her start as an actress after someone took her photograph and entered the winning image into a contest) leads him to her apartment. Anna doesn’t appear to be the slightest bit concerned that he obtained her name and address from her camera bag and invites him in! They soon begin a platonic friendship, but one of Anna’s model friends, Rita, catches Frank’s eye at one of her photo shoots and soon meets a terrible end. Anna is oblivious to this fact until she accompanies Frank to his mother’s grave with flowers and all hell breaks loose and heads towards an ending that is inspired until the final shot which is often relegated to the domain of slasher films, most notably Michele Soavi’s 1987 stylish giallo classic Stagefright.

Maniac developed a notorious reputation for its then-shocking violence, angering feminists from coast to coast. While it’s still fairly disturbing even by today’s standards, there is an argument to be made that AMC’s The Walking Dead is infinitely more savage. Shot on 16mm, the film holds up very well and has now been made available on Blu-ray in a three-disc set that includes a transfer mastered from a 4K restoration of the original camera negative.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Twilight Time has released the 1969 British anti-war comedy/drama "The Virgin Soldiers" as a limited edition (3,000 units) Blu-ray. Adapted from  the 1966 novel by Leslie Thomas,who based the tale on his personal experiences while serving in Malaya in the early 1950s when British troops were called into action to quell political unrest and violent uprisings. The film has been compared to Robert Altman's "M*A*S*H" which was released the following year and which focused on American forces serving in the Korean War. Both films were riding the wave of anti-Vietnam War protests and their geographical locations could easily be swapped for those in Vietnam. Additionally, the two movies both have a similar tone in that they mix a cynical, comedic view of life in the military with morbid scenes that display the carnage of the conflicts. In "M*A*S*H" the human toll of war is confined to scenes in the operating room where over-stressed surgical teams try to save the lives of those who were badly wounded. In "The Virgin Soldiers", the horrors of war come late in the film with a surprise attack by insurgents on a train carrying soldiers to an location where they were supposed to enjoy some leave time. But there are major differences in the way the story lines are presented. The Altman film dealt primarily with the antics of a trio of wiseguy anti-Establishment types while "The Virgin Soldiers" chronicles the personal experiences of a private, Brigg (Hywel Bennett) and a young civilian woman, Phillipa Raskin (Lynn Redgrave), who is forced to live on a military base where her father (Nigel Patrick) serves as the R.S.M. Most of the screen time is devoted to the Brigg character as he tries to get through his obligatory stint in National Service unscathed. The film presents the usual scattershot collection of men in the regiment as an eclectic bunch ranging from cowards to unlikely heroes. There is even an openly gay couple, which defies credibility since homosexuality in British society was considered to be a criminal act at the time.

The early part of the movie depicts the young soldiers as untested, naive and afraid of actually going into combat- all perfectly human concerns. They are also bored on the base due to lack of female companionship and are desperate for sex with any available woman. Amidst an atmosphere in which his fellow soldiers brag about their sexual conquests, Brigg nervously tries to arrange losing his virginity while posing as an experienced lady's man. He tries to satiate his sexual desires with a local hooker, Juicy Lucy (winningly played by Tsai Chin), whose heart of gold extends to giving credit on account to any soldier who suffers impotence from performance anxiety. The unit's sergeant, Driscoll (Nigel Davenport), instills military discipline in his charges while also acting as a father figure, recognizing that these frightened young men are far away from home and are facing a conflict in an exotic land that they don't even understand. A parallel plot centers on the miserable existence of Philippa whose father is a strutting misogynist and comically inept figure. Her mother (played by Redgrave's real-life mum Rachel Kempson) is a dippy eccentric whose primary focus seems to be on the well-being of her pet goldfish. Phillipa is much-desired by every soldier on the base, given the lack of females in their vicinity. They view her as a sultry woman of the world when, in fact, she, too, is also a virgin, much to the consternation of her father, who constantly derides her for not yet having taken up with a man. He even chides her by telling her that the local gossip speculates she might be a lesbian. Phillipa is emotionally alone in the world in a location she can't relate to and doesn't want to be in, much like the young recruits on the base. She refuses to be a temporary bed mate for soldiers who are moving on.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Racial tensions are flaring in the deep South. White supremacists are marching with members of the Klan, as progressive counter-protestors face off against them amidst a media frenzy. Confederate banners are proudly waved opposite those displaying the American flag. You would be forgiven for thinking this scenario describes the USA in the year 2018 but in actuality it's the setting for the 1996 political thriller "The Chamber", based on the novel by John Grisham. Like other Grisham cinematic tales, it's a complex story of eccentric characters, some laudable, others villainous, and its decked out with an atmosphere of Southern fried hatred. The film opens in Mississippi in 1967 when a Jewish civil rights lawyer makes the fatal mistake of taking his two young sons to work with him on the very day the Klan has placed a time bomb in his office. The resulting blast kills the boys and injures the father, who later commits suicide, leaving his widow (Millie Perkins) to cope with a lifetime of unspeakable sorrow. The story then cuts to the present day (1996) where we find Adam Hall (Chris O'Donnell),  a bright, dedicated young lawyer, determined to intervene on behalf of the man who was convicted of the hate crime and who is now about to be executed after many years of exhausted appeals while on Death Row. The culprit is Sam Cayhall (Gene Hackman) and he is Adam's grandfather, though the young man has never met him. This introduces the first problem with the screenplay by the usually estimable William Goldman: we are never really clear about why Adam is so dedicated to savING the life of a grandfather he has never met. He is clearly haunted by the fact that his own father committed suicide when Adam was a child, presumably out of the overwhelming shame of being Sam Cayhall's son. Adam's motives are left murky, especially when there is no doubt that Sam did plant the deadly device in the lawyer's office. Is Adam grasping at straws in trying to reclaim some dignity for his family's name or is he on to something more intriguing? Because this is a Grisham tale, our hero does turn detective and learns that Sam had at least one co-conspirator, a local white supremacist (Raymond J. Barry) who was never on law enforcement's radar. Turns out he is actually Sam's brother and has been living under an assumed name. In a dramatic meeting, Sam's brother implores him not to spill the beans and to continue to cover for him until he is executed a few days later in the gas chamber. Sam responds with a verbal onslaught against his brother, screaming out that the plan was never to kill anyone. If that's the case, why is Sam willing to go to his death to continue to cover up for his slime bag brother? The question is left ambiguous. 

There's a lot of legal maneuvering as Adam exhausts the options available to save Sam, who he has met and formed a bond with. Behind Sam's exterior of hatred and racism we learn there is a deep-thinking, intelligent man who is more nuanced than one might think when it comes to race relations. This warm, fuzzy side of the character doesn't ring true and seems to be a plot contrivance to make the audience sympathize with his plight. Helping matters is the fine performance by Gene Hackman, which goes a long way to making Sam accessible from an emotional standpoint even if his conversion is unconvincing. (After all, he still had willingly carried out a terrorist action in the name of racism.) The supporting cast includes Faye Dunaway as Sam's estranged and long-suffering daughter who saw him murder a black man when she was a child. She's now living the life of a Southern belle and is not too happy with being outed as Sam's offspring. The script does allow for father and daughter to have a somber reunion in prison and it's one of the few scenes that works credibly in the film. (It's also enjoyable to see Hackman and Dunaway reunited for the first time since "Bonnie and Clyde" 29 years earlier.) Lela Rochon is tossed into the mix in an under-written role as a young African American attorney who is being manipulated by the Mississippi governor (David Marshall Grant, playing the role like Snidely Whiplash) to befriend Adam in order to find out what legal strategies he is employing. The implication is that the Governor and other top officials have a lot to fear if Sam is not executed on schedule, but these factors are left frustratingly murky.

“THE CIRCUS OF HUMILIATION”

By Raymond Benson

The Criterion Collection has upgraded to Blu-ray their earlier DVD release of Ingmar Bergman’s 1953 feature, Sawdust and Tinsel (titled The Naked Night when the picture was first released theatrically in the U.S.). The visual quality has improved with a new 2K digital restoration that looks razor sharp with gorgeous contrasting black and white imagery, and it comes with an uncompressed monaural soundtrack.

Sawdust was a major step forward in the evolution of Bergman’s filmography, although it was not well-received by Swedish audiences at the time of release. It was most likely deemed too disturbing for what appeared to be a movie about a traveling circus. Note that this was before Bergman’s international breakthrough, which would occur a couple of years later with Smiles of a Summer Night. At the time of Sawdust and Tinsel, Bergman was mostly known just in his native country and at the various film festivals around the world where his work had been submitted.

The first several pictures in Bergman’s oeuvre, especially in the late 1940s, were often melodramatic tales of entanglement, lost love, betrayal, and working-class misfits struggling to enrich their lives. It wasn’t until Summer Interlude, in 1951, that a singular stylistic and thematic voice emerged that can now be identified as Bergman-esque. Earlier in 1953, Summer with Monika was released, and that caused something of a sensation with its frank portrayal of what the U.S. distributor called “The Story of a Bad Girl.” That one made a star out of Harriet Andersson, who would work on several other pictures with Bergman over the next four decades.

Sawdust and Tinsel was a very different picture from Monika. Taking place in the early 1900s, the story concerns a poor, shoddy traveling circus that barely supports itself. It is run by Albert (Åke Grönberg), a middle-aged man who left his wife and sons in a small town in order to be a ringmaster. His mistress, Anne (Harriet Andersson), is the bareback rider, younger and yearning for something better. Frost the Clown (Anders Ek) and his wife Alma (Gudrun Brost), who has an act with a sickly bear, are oddballs and constant thorns in Albert’s side. When the circus sets up near the town where Albert’s family lives, he decides to go for a visit. First, though, the troupe must borrow costumes from the local theater run by creepy manager Sjuberg (played by Bergman stalwart Gunnar Björnstrand). There, Anne meets the mysterious actor, Frans (Hasse Ekman), who seduces her away from Albert.

Doesn’t sound like a good time at the cinema? Hogwash. This is a fascinating and haunting battle of the sexes—a typical Bergman theme—but the carnival milieu is so unique to the director that Sawdust and Tinsel is immediately visually striking with its dreamlike photography (it was the first collaboration between Bergman and longtime cinematographer Sven Nykvist), its colorful and eccentric characters, and its moody and often threatening ambiance.

At the story’s core is a treatise on how human beings react to humiliation. The opening scene, in which Frost must rescue his wife from the taunting of the Swedish military performing exercises near the beach, is a nightmarish, nearly silent mime show of anguish and terror (and the facial contortions that Ek’s Frost makes are worth a study in skin elasticity!). The meat of the picture is how the ultimate shattering of both Albert’s and Anne’s dreams force them to re-examine their lots in life.

It’s all powerful stuff.

Supplements on the disk include an audio commentary from 2007 by Bergman scholar Peter Cowie, a video introduction from 2003 by Bergman himself, and an essay in the booklet by critic John Simon.

NOTE: For those of you looking for the sold-out boxed set retrospective of Bergman’s career that was released in November, Ingmar Bergman’s Cinema, new copies will be available February 26, 2019.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Those of us who share the rather unusual- and sometimes bizarre-profession of reviewing films for a living all share a nasty little secret: there are countless classic movies that we haven't seen. I'm not alone in making this mea culpa. No less than the late, great Robert Osborne, whose insightful introductions on Turner Classic Movies helped launch that channel's success, once confided in me that even he could list numerous classic movies that he had yet to catch up with. When he confessed this to Lauren Bacall, she told him that she envied him because she wish she could recapture the sheer joy of seeing a great film for the first time. I've never seen the 1942 musical "Holiday Inn". I can't say why but perhaps it's because that as a boy growing up in the Sixties, such productions seemed quaint and unappealing when I had a celluloid tidal wave of WWII flicks, Westerns and Bond-inspired spy movies. After all, John Wayne and Steve McQueen never danced on film, so why bother watching anyone else do so? Thus, when I attended the Papermill Playhouse's stage production of the much-beloved Irving Berlin song fest, I was in the unique position of not being acquainted with the property at all. At the risk of invoking the names of Rodgers and Hammerstein, the corn is as high as an elephant's eye, to be sure. However, the Papermill has outdone itself in presenting the ultimate "feel good" production for the holiday season.

The story is as sappy and sentimental as I suspected when I was a kid, but with the passing of decades, I've warmed to sappy and sentimental musicals and "Holiday Inn" turns the old concept of "Hey, kids- we can put the show on in the barn!" into a slight variation that boils down to "Hey, kids- we can put the show on right here at the inn!". The story opens with a song and dance trio just finishing a successful engagement. They are Jim Hardy (Nicholas Rodriguez), his girlfriend and dance partner Lila Dixon (Paige Faure) and Ted Hanover (Jeff Kready). Backstage, Jim drops a bombshell by proposing to Lila and announcing that they can now leave show business and move to a farm he has just purchased sight unseen in rural Connecticut. Although Lila accepts the marriage proposal, she says she wants to continue the act on the road for another six months with Ted while Jim prepares the farm for her to move in following their marriage. Jim agrees but when he gets to the historic Mason Farm that he has purchased, he discovers he's been snookered. The place is run down and he is immediately served with demands to pay back taxes and assorted other staggering debts he didn't know existed. While he struggles to cope, he is visited by Linda Mason (Hayley Podschun), the previous owner the farm, which had been in her family for generations. Seems Linda couldn't afford the upkeep and had been evicted, thus allowing Jim to secure the place while in foreclosure. In a coincidence that only occurs in musicals of this type, she is attractive and has a talent for performing on stage, though she gave up her career to become a teacher when sufficient opportunities didn't appear for her to make a living in show business. Jim imposes on her to sing a bit and he recognizes she has star power. Meanwhile, Lila makes a surprise visit and confesses she is so caught up in her own thriving career that she is calling off the marriage and going back on the road with Ted.  You don't have to be the kind of person who wears a deerstalker hat and smokes a pipe to detect what happens next: Jim falls head over heels for Linda and they devise a plan to transform the failing farm into a hotel that presents musical productions.  The plan proves to be an immediate success, drawing crowds from far and wide but things unravel when Ted turns up and announces that Lila has kicked him to the curb and broken up their act when a millionaire proposed to her. Desperate to jump start his career, Ted worms his way into the inn's revue, in the process falling for Linda, who is clearly smitten by Ted's talents as well as he egotistical self-assurance which is in contrast to Jim's modest nature.

The well-oiled plot device of a city slicker finding himself hapless as a farmer must date back to the invention of celluloid but it persists because it's a genuinely funny one, as evidenced by films such as "The Egg and I", "Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House", "The Money Pit" and the still amusing "Green Acres" 1960s TV series. The fish-out-water concept provides some genuine laughs but it is the wealth of Berlin songs that elevate "Holiday Inn" to a special status. Just consider all of these classic numbers in one show: "Heat Wave", "Blue Skies", "Happy Holiday", "Cheek to Cheek", "Easter Parade" and a little number called "White Christmas" that might actually catch on. All of them are superbly performed by a flawless and talented cast under the outstanding musical direction of Shawn Gough with equally impressive choreography by Denis Jones. Gordon Greenberg is the director of the overall production which practically had the enthusiastic audience dancing in the aisles. Kudos to costume designer Alejo Vietti for providing some eye-popping creations and especially to scene designer Anna Louizos, whose creative sets are not only impressive but are miraculously changed literally in the blink of an eye without the slightest interruption. The four leads in the show illustrate the Papermill's painstaking casting process pays off. Rodriguez, Podschun, Kready and Faure are delightful to watch throughout. Each of them has the ability to knock 'em dead during the musical numbers but they also deliver the witty bon mots in a style that ensures big laughs. There is also a spot-on supporting performance by Ann Harada as a local handywoman who finds plenty of work repairing Jim's dilapidated inn. The book has been tweaked a slight bit to make the dialogue more relevant for today's audiences but there are some quaint references to Connecticut as a dull, largely rural state, which gets big laughs from tri-state audiences who have suffered the endless traffic jams on the I-95 corridor.The film version was released in 1942 during the early days of WWII, which accounts for the sentimental success of "White Christmas", but for reasons unknown, the stage production takes place in 1946. A notorious blackface musical number in praise of Abraham Lincoln that appeared in the film has also been mercifully left out of the stage production. 

The Papermill's presentation of "Holiday Inn" illustrates why the venue is the gold standard of regional playhouses. The show delighted the audience so much that even the rude nitwits that generally walk out before the show ends in order to get a head start on reaching the parking lot seemed transfixed by all the talent on stage and remained to join in the roaring standing ovation. It's the perfect holiday show and runs through December 30. Don't miss it.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

"The Shakiest Gun in the West" was one of the feature film Don Knotts starred in for Universal after leaving his role as Deputy Barney Fife on "The Andy Griffith Show"- a role that saw him win multiple Emmy awards. Released in 1968, the comedy is as plain vanilla as all of Knotts's Universal flicks, as it's family friendly throughout. There is one unusual aspect to this production, however, in that it is a remake of the 1948 Bob Hope comedy hit "The Paleface". Directed by Alan Rafkin, who helmed Knotts's first film for Universal, "The Ghost and Mr. Chicken", "Shakiest" follows the formula that Knotts knew his fans wanted to see. He always played essentially the same character- a likable nerd with a lack of self-esteem who blunders into becoming a local hero only to be discredited and shamed. The conclusion of every Knotts film finds him performing some act of extraordinary courage that results in him becoming a legitimate hero and winning the girl, as well. Oh, yes, there's usually a scene in which Knotts's character ends up getting very drunk, thus allowing Knotts to slip and slobber, much to the delight of his audience. Although the original film was written for Bob Hope, a few tweaks by long-time "Andy Griffith Show" screenwriters Jim Fritzell and Everett Greenbaum easily convert the story into a suitable vehicle for Knott's signature nervous guy persona. Both Hope and Knotts excelled at playing cowards. Hope would respond to dangerous situations with a string of quips delivered with the rapidity of a machine gun. Knotts, however, would fall physically and mentally into a virtual nervous breakdown. The result was always amusing and Knotts lived by the adage "If it ain't broke, don't fix it". Audiences- especially in rural areas- made his modestly-budgeted feature films very profitable.

"Shakiest" opens in Philadelphia in 1870. Knotts plays Jesse Heywood, a dental student who must complete an examination on a patient in order to get his degree in dentistry. Unfortunately, the patient is a woman who refuses to open her mouth.  Jesse tries to cajole her with childlike sweet talk but when she still refuses, the situation turns into a physical battle royal with both of them engaging in a knock-down wrestling match that starts the film off on a very funny note. Jesse then decides to follow the advice of Horace Greeley and "Go West, young man." Presuming there is a dearth of available dentists in the newly-settled territories, the meek city slicker joins a wagon train (after being bilked by used-wagon salesman Carl Ballantine). A simultaneous plot line revolves around Penelope Cushings (Barbara Rhoades), a vivacious redhead who also happens to be a notorious bandit. When federal agents catch up to her, she is offered a deal: she can avoid a jail sentence if she acts as an undercover agent for the government and joins the wagon train to find out who among the passengers are intending to smuggle a cache of rifles to the Indians. At the last minute, the agent who was to pose as her husband is shot dead, leaving her with a dilemma: no single woman can be unaccompanied on the wagon train. Desperate, she uses Jesse as a pawn, fawning over the incredulous newly-minted dentist who can hardly believe his good fortune. Within hours they end up getting married but the minute the ink is dry on the license, Penelope gives a cold shoulder to her new husband. (The only sexually suggestive aspect to the film revolves around a running gag of Jesse being increasingly frustrated by his wife's stalling techniques when it comes to consummating their marriage.)

Once the wagon train is on the move, Penelope snoops around for the gun smugglers, who turn out to be a phony preacher (Donald Barry) and his partner (Jackie Coogan) who are secreting the weapons inside cases marked as containing bibles. Along the way, Jesse allows his wagon to fall behind the others and it is attacked by Indians. In mounting a seemingly futile defense, he is shocked to find that he has killed a dozen of his attackers, not realizing that the deadly shots were actually fired by Penelope. When word gets out of his achievement, Jesse is hailed and feted as a hero. The legend is reinforced when he is challenged by a notorious outlaw, Arnold the Kid (Robert Yuro), who is also slain in a gundown with Penelope secretly firing the fatal shot. (Shades of "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance"!) Ultimately, Jesse learns the truth and courageously admits to his fellow travelers that he really isn't a hero. He is rewarded for his honesty by being shunned and mocked. His misfortune continues with the admission by Penelope that she was only using him as part of her cover operation. The dejected Jesse is at a low point in his life when Penelope is kidnapped by the gun smugglers and brought to the Indian camp. Determined to save her, Jesse manages to locate the camp and infiltrate it while dressed as an Indian maiden(!). Needless to say, he finds his inner strength and in acts of courage saves the day and redeems his reputation.

(Goldman with James Caan on the set of "A Bridge Too Far"- 1976)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

There's an old joke among writers about the naive young starlet who thought she could make it in Hollywood by sleeping with screenwriters. Indeed, the people who made it possible for hit films to exist by writing the scenarios the actors carried out on screen were often regarded as being very low on the industry totem pole- and relatively low-paid as well. Not so with novelist and screenwriter William Goldman, who elevated regard for screenwriters while demanding- and receiving- the kind of breakthrough salaries that revolutionized the film industry's respect for writers. Goldman has died from cancer in Manhattan at age 87. He was known to be opinionated, abrasive and demanding, but no one questioned his talents. He won Oscars for "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" and "All the President's Men". Among his other screenplays: "Harper" (aka "The Moving Target"), "Marathon Man" (adapted from his own novel), "A Bridge Too Far", "The Princess Bride", "No Way to Treat a Lady", "The Hot Rock", "The Stepford Wives", "The Great Waldo Pepper", "Magic", "The Princess Bride" (adapted from his own novel), "Misery", "Year of the Comet", "Chaplin", "Maverick" and "The Ghost and the Darkness". Goldman was inspired to take up screenwriting after buying a book about the profession in an all-night Times Square book shop. His first novel to be adapted for the screen was "Soldier in the Rain", though the screenplay was written by Blake Edwards and Maurice Richlin.  Goldman's  book "Adventures in the Screen Trade", a scathing look at the film industry,  is still widely-read. He famously wrote of his conclusion about competence among studio executives: "Nobody knows anything". Goldman's brother James, was also an Oscar winner, having written the play "The Lion in Winter" for which he received the award for Adapted Screenplay. Even if you've never heard of Goldman, you're familiar with some of his dialogue which has become ingrained in popular culture. The Washington Post provides examples. Click here to read.

"THE NIGHT OF THE IGUANA: CLOSE ENCOUNTERS IN THE JUNGLE"

BY EVE GOLDBERG

The Night of the Iguana, Tennessee Williams’s last great play, was turned into a 1964 movie which, in its day, was as famous for its behind-the-scenes spectacle as for what actually appeared on screen.

Today, Iguana is rarely mentioned alongside the other classic Tennessee Williams film adaptations: Streetcar Named Desire, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and Suddenly, Last Summer. Despite a tremendously talented cast, compelling characters, and a can’t-look-away examination of our anguished, redeemable humanity, Iguana is often neglected.

So, it’s high time for a fresh look at this movie — with a focus on its journey from stage to screen.

The Play

"Shannon!" shouts Maxine Faulk from the veranda of her run-down hotel on the coast of Mexico. Thus opens Tennessee Williams’ 1961 play. The setting is 1940. Recently widowed Maxine greets her old friend, Reverend Shannon, a disgraced minister who has been reduced to leading low-rent bus tours. He is currently shepherding a group of middle-aged Baptist women through Mexico. Shannon is in crisis. He has become sexually involved with Charlotte, a 17-year-old girl on the tour, whose jealous, closeted chaperone, Miss Fellows, is determined to get him fired. Already locked out of his church for having an affair with a young Sunday School teacher, Shannon is at the end of his rope. In a desperate attempt to stop Miss Fellows from phoning the States and exposing him, he pockets the ignition key and strands his charges at Maxine’s secluded hotel.

Vacationing at the hotel is a pro-Nazi German family who stay glued to the radio throughout the play, gleefully reporting on Hitler’s progress. Soon, another unexpected visitor arrives: the beautiful spinster artist, Hannah Jelkes, escorting her 97-year-old grandfather, “the world’s oldest practicing poet.” To eek out a living, Hannah sketches and her grandfather recites poetry as they wander the globe. Right now they are broke. Shannon convinces Maxine to let the pair spend the night at her hotel.

Earthy, sensual Maxine wants Shannon to stay on at the hotel and fill her late husband’s shoes. Persistent Charlotte wants to seduce him. Vengeful Miss Fellows wants to get him fired. Shannon wants some peace of mind. As he fights against his own desires for both Charlotte and alcohol, he becomes increasingly distraught and emotionally unstable. He finally falls to pieces after the bus driver wrests the ignition key away from him and leaves with the women to continue their tour. To prevent Shannon from running down to the beach to take that “long swim to China,” Maxine ties him up in a hammock on the verandah. During a stormy night of soul-searching (while strapped to the hammock), Shannon connects deeply with the serene and understanding Hannah. He admits to his “spooks,” she to her “blue devils.” Hannah, who has never had sexual relations, describes to Shannon what she calls her “love experience” with an underwear salesman. When Shannon asks whether she was disgusted by the man’s request to hold a piece of her clothing, Hannah replies with the most famous line of the play: “Nothing human disgusts me, unless it’s unkind, violent.”

As a result of the profound communication and connection Shannon experiences with Hannah, his torment subsides. He frees himself from the hammock. Then, at Hannah’s request, he cuts loose the iguana which is being held captive under the verandah by Maxine’s houseboys. At the end of the play, Hannah’s grandfather finishes his final poem and dies; Hannah leaves to travel alone; and Shannon reluctantly agrees to stay on with Maxine and help her run the hotel.

Night of the Iguana opened on Broadway with legendary Bette Davis in the role of Maxine. The play was well-received, and ran for 361 performances. It won the New York Drama Critic’s Circle award for Best Play, and was nominated for a Tony for Best Play. However, unhappy with the production and her role, Davis left the show after a few months. According to the actress, “There was no camaraderie, no sense of kinship, no attitude of pulling together to make the play work.” According to Tennessee Williams, “If she had ever truly had a command of her talent on the stage, she had lost it by that time.” Davis was replaced by Shelley Winters. Still, Davis hoped to play Maxine on screen. It was not to be.

The Stars

When producer Ray Stark brought a screenplay for Night of the Iguana to John Huston, the director was immediately interested in making the movie. “I was a great admirer of Tennessee Williams,” said Huston. “I had seen the play and liked it, with reservations.”

At that time, Huston was at the peak of a long and illustrious career. His prior films included such popular and critical hits as The Maltese Falcon, The African Queen, The Treasure of Sierra Madre, and The Asphalt Jungle. In the sexist vernacular of the day, Huston was known as a “man’s man” — he was a former boxer, unrepentant boozer, and lover of women, danger, and adventure — who enjoyed making his films in exotic, challenging locations. He was also one of the most literate of American filmmakers. He had been a contract writer at Warner Brothers, penning adaptations of great novels including Moby Dick and Red Badge of Courage. In Iguana, he saw an opportunity to explore Tennessee Williams’s meaty theme of “loose, random souls trying to account for themselves and finally being able to do so through love.”

Huston hoped to cast his movie with big-time stars: Richard Burton, Ava Gardner, Deborah Kerr, and Sue Lyon.

Richard Burton was just coming off mega-movie Cleopatra, where he met, co-starred, and began a torrid affair with Elizabeth Taylor. The stunningly beautiful Taylor was the top female box office attraction in the world. Burton, an acclaimed Shakespearean actor, had become a screen sensation with starring roles in Look Back In Anger and Becket. Both Burton and Taylor were married to others when they began their affair — Taylor to crooner Eddie Fisher whom she infamously “stole” from girl-next-door actress Debbie Reynolds. At a time in American culture when divorce, much less extra-marital affairs, was still semi-taboo, the public couldn't get enough of "Liz and Dick." Their scandalous relationship and glamorous lifestyle captivated millions. Their photos and personal lives were constant fan mag fodder — solid gold for the Hollywood publicity machine.

If anybody could rival Liz Taylor in both the beauty and scandal departments it was Ava Gardner. Brought to Hollywood more for her looks and legs than her acting ability — which, according to the actress herself, was close to zilch — Gardner signed a contract with MGM at age 19. She then progressed from pin-up girl, to small roles in B movies, to femme fatale icon. She exuded a magnetic, sultry sex appeal. And she was gorgeous. According to Humphrey Bogart, "Whatever it is, whether you're born with it, or catch it from a public drinking cup, she's got it."

Gardner gained additional fame for three high-profile marriages to three high-profile celebrities: actor Mickey Rooney, band leader Artie Shaw, and no-introduction-needed Frank Sinatra. The tumultuous Frank-and-Ava marriage was chronicled in the press as avidly as the Liz-and-Dick affair. After six years of a passionately volatile relationship, Gardner and Sinatra divorced in 1957. By the time Iguana came around, Ava Gardner was 44 years old and living in Spain where she hung out with Ernest Hemingway and a bevy of bullfighters. Huston decided that her unique blend of beauty, maturity, and lusty sensuality made her ideally suited for the role of hotel owner Maxine.

As for Bette Davis, who openly coveted the role she had pioneered on Broadway, Huston decided she wasn’t right for the part. He felt she came across as “too threatening” for the kind of Maxine he had in mind.

When 18-year-old Sue Lyon was cast in Iguana as seductive teenager Charlotte, she had exactly one film credit to her name: the title role in Lolita. 'Nuf said.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Deborah Kerr already had 42 films under her belt. She had played a troubled nun in Black Narcissus; a neglected military wife in From Here to Eternity (iconic beach make-out scene with Burt Lancaster!); a widowed school teacher in The King and I; and the tragically romantic heroine in An Affair to Remember. She had been nominated for an Academy Award as Best Actress six times. On screen and off, Kerr had gained a reputation as a class act. Huston thought she'd be perfect as the chaste painter Hannah.

"We went to see them, one after another" Huston wrote in his memoir, Open Book. "Richard, in Switzerland, promptly accepted; likewise Deborah in London. That took us to Madrid and Ava Gardner." According to Huston, Gardner was unsure whether she had the ability to do the part. However, after the requisite wooing, she agreed to be in the film.

Now the stars were set. The press closed in. The fun was about to begin.

The Production

"We've got more reporters up here than iguanas." -- producer Ray Stark.

In 1964, when Iguana's cast and crew descended upon it, Puerto Vallarta was still a small fishing town with a few hotels; 24-hour electrical service had only recently arrived. Eight miles up the coast, accessible only by boat, was an isolated rain forest peninsula called Mismaloya. High atop the cliff at this lush, mosquito-infested spot is where Huston decided to film Night of the Iguana. A strong believer in location shooting, he thought the wild, sweaty atmosphere of Mismaloya would visually reflect the inner tumult of the movie's characters. He also hoped that the challenging environment would force the actors out of their comfort zones and enhance their performances.

Up on this jungle mountaintop, a construction crew built the movie's weathered hotel set. They also erected 40 bungalows to house the 125 cast and crew members who would live there for the entire 72-day shoot. In addition to living quarters, the crew built an editing room; a large kitchen, bar and restaurant; water tanks and an electrical plant; plus various paths and roads. All materials and supplies had to be carried up 134 earthen steps from the beach to the cliff-top location. It took 280 men and 80 burros to complete the task.

As construction of the miniature city proceeded, Huston and his co-writer, Anthony Veiller, worked on the script.

Finally, Iguana's cast arrived in Puerto Vallarta. As did more than 100 members of the press and paparazzi. Fascinated by the high-wattage gathering of filmdom glitterati, reporters expected plenty of behind-the-scenes fireworks. Especially because Burton was accompanied by his lover, Elizabeth Taylor. With sexy co-stars Ava Gardner and Sue Lyon roaming the set, the press assumed that Taylor wanted to keep an eye on Burton. "I trust Richard completely," she told reporters. "It's just that I don't trust Fate. After all, Fate threw us together on Cleopatra."

And there was plenty more to feed the gossip-hungry public: Burton brought along his publicist, Michael Wilding, who had been Liz Taylor's second husband. Teenager Sue Lyon was visited on location by her 25-year-old fiancé, actor Hampton Fancher III. And Ava Gardner took up with several hunky beach boys. Director Huston, married at the time, was accompanied by his mistress, Zoe Sallis. Deborah Kerr brought along her husband, writer Peter Viertel, who had once been Ava Gardner's lover. Viertel was the author of White Hunter, Black Heart — a novel based on the making of The African Queen — which featured an unflattering portrait of a Huston-like movie director.

Before filming began, Huston assembled his stars, plus Taylor and Stark, and presented each one with a velvet-lined box. Inside the box was a derringer pistol and five gold-plated bullets. Each bullet was engraved with the name of one of the others. A photo from that moment shows the assembled group examining their pistols and sharing a hearty laugh. The atmosphere was loose and fun — regardless of what the press hoped for.

While most of the cast and crew lived at the Mismaloya mini-city for the duration of the shoot, top stars Burton, Kerr, Gardner, and Lyon stayed in Puerto Vallarta.

Wrote Kerr about their accommodations in town: "Never have there been such raucous donkeys, such snuffling and screeching pigs, such shrill and insistent roosters and babbling turkeys. Top this off with a thick sauce of mariachi music, plus phonographs and radios at full blast, season with firecrackers and rockets at all hours of the night, and you have a fairly tasty idea of what the sleeping conditions are like in this tropical paradise."

Early each morning, the stars boarded motor boats to make the 25-minute ride to Mismaloya. Documentary footage shows Deborah Kerr being carried by a crew member, who is waist-deep in the surf, and being placed in a waiting boat.

Lines were drawn on the first day of shooting when Kerr and Lyon announced that they expected the set to be "dry." Burton, a devout alcoholic, said this was "preposterous." He ordered a bar to be set up at each end of the crude staircase which connected beach to cliff-top. Huston and Gardner, both committed drinkers, did not object. Thus, beer and tequila flowed freely during the shoot. Burton took his first drink early each morning before the cameras rolled. Gardner had a personal icebox stocked with her favorite Mexican beer. For her part, Elizabeth Taylor ordered gourmet hamburgers imported daily from the U.S. and brought up to the set.

Despite prodigious alcohol consumption, filming progressed fairly smoothly. While the press anticipated juicy sex scandal and interpersonal catastrophe, the most serious mishap of the production was actually due to the sub-standard materials used to construct the housing at Mismaloya. One night, assistant director Tom Shaw was standing on his balcony when it collapsed. Shaw broke his back and had to be flown back to the U.S. for surgery. Fortunately, his injuries healed and he would work with Huston again.

BY TODD GARBARINI

I was three years-old when John Llewellyn Moxey’s The Night Stalker premiered on the ABC Movie of the Week on January 11, 1972 and it took me nearly twenty years to catch up with it on a late night rerun on a local ABC-TV affiliate. Featuring the terrific late character actor Darren McGavin in the role of Carl Kolchak, an intrepid reporter who wants to print the truth regardless of what his editor says after finding himself in the midst of several murders, The Night Stalker, penned by the great Richard Matheson based on an unpublished novel, is a delightful slice of early 1970s spooky entertainment fare that is most definitely a product of a time that was populated by groovy music on the radio, TV dinners, and little kids getting tossed around in the backs of mammoth station wagons. The Las Vegas of 1971 when this movie was shot is much different from the Las Vegas of 2018. For one thing, the bulk of filming takes place in what is in present day known as the Fremont Street area. Much of Vega$, the television series starring Robert Urich that ran from 1978 to 1981, was also filmed in this location as well, so it will no doubt look familiar to viewers.

Kolchak is like a cross between photographer Arthur (Usher) Fellig, better known as Weegee, and Jeff Daniels’s Will Macavoy on HBO’s The Newsroom. He wants the scoop but he wants to tell it the way it is: truthfully. We are introduced to him after the events have occurred and the action is told in flashback as Kolchak, unshaven and nearly impecunious in a run-down motel, is writing a book about the events that have happened. Someone, or something, is stalking the residents of Las Vegas and draining them of a portion of their blood. The authorities (Kent Smith and Claude Akins) are keeping a tight rein on Kolchak so as to avoid public embarrassment and panic. The suspect is Janos Skorzeny (Barry Atwater), a creepy-looking man who bears a resemblance to Jonathan Frid of Dark Shadows fame.

Kolchak gets into frequent and boisterous arguments with his editor Tony Vincenzo (Simon Oakland, forever known as the deus ex machina psychiatrist at the end of 1960’s Psycho) about letting people know the truth, especially if they are in danger of dying at the hands of Skorzeny, who appears to be a vampire following failed attempts to shoot him dead after his break-in of a blood bank at a local hospital. Vincenzo wants to keep the newspaper’s reputation clean and urges Kolchak not to print such events for fear of frightening the public. Far from being the first television series to deal with vampires, it exercises restraint in the depiction of violence against women, though the results do not shy away from showing some blood – this was, after all, the era of the televised Vietnam War. One of the earlier victims is a young woman whose mother is played by actress Virginia Gregg, who provided the voice of Mother in Psycho and Psycho II. Carol Lynley plays a prostitute, though her profession is only alluded to in her introductory scenes. She is a lady friend of Kolchak’s, with modern parlance applying the moniker of “friends with benefits” to their relationship; she’s twenty years Kolchak’s junior and urges him to read up on vampires. Kolchak eventually makes his way to Skorzeny’s lair in an effort to get the story on his own and uses standard items from his Anti -Vampire Kit such as a crucifix and the sun through broken glass in an effort to kill him (or it). A twist has Kolchak leaving Vegas with his tail between his legs at the urging of the authorities, his determination to tell the truth at its strongest when he ends up at the motel that we saw him at the start.

Movie marketing sure has changed. Studios rarely advertise films in newspapers today (assuming you can still find a newspaper today) but that medium was once the most effective method of promoting new films. Not only were traditional ads run but clever off-beat ancillary campaigns were also featured in the guise of entertainment. For example, here is a promotional campaign for the 1966 epic "Khartoum" starring Charlton Heston and Laurence Olivier that was squarely aimed at kids despite the fact that the intended audience was adults. This promotional block seen above was featured in the United Artists pressbook sent to American theater owners to suggest creative local publicity campaigns.

(For extensive coverage of the making of "Khartoum", get the Cinema Retro Movie Classic Roadshow Epics of the 1960s issue by clicking here.)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lorber continues its welcome habit of unearthing cinematic rarities and making them available to retro movie lovers. Case in point: "Tiger by the Tail", a long-forgotten crime thriller filmed in 1968 as an independent production but not released until 1970. The film is the epitome of a good "B" movie from the era: lean, fast-moving and efficiently made with an impressive cast. The movie is typical of low-brow fare from the 1960s. It's primary purpose was to shot quickly and turn a modest profit. Many of these films, which often played as the second feature on double bills, had the asset of affording leading roles to actors and actresses who rarely had the opportunity to get top billing. Such is the case with this film which features Christopher George in the leading role. He plays Steve Michaelis, a recently discharged U.S. Army Vietnam War veteran who is returning home to New Mexico. However, he makes a nearly fatal pit stop in Mexico and the opening scene is a bit of a shocker.  He's a about to bed a local beauty when two thugs enter the room and a brutal fight ensues that he barely escapes. This seems like an irrelevant scene, given all that follows, but we find out later its pertinent to his fate. Steve arrives in New Mexico where he reunites with his older brother Frank (Dennis Patrick), who raised him after their parents died. While Steve is down-and-out and broke, Frank has prospered as the majority share holder in the local horse racing track which fuels the local economy. The two men have a frosty reunion that is strained even further when Steve discovers that his former girlfriend Rita (Tippi Hedren) is now romantically involved with Frank. Nevertheless, the two men reconcile and things appear to be heading in the right direction. However, fate takes a tragic turn when the racetrack is robbed and Frank is murdered in cold blood. This sets in motion a complicated series of events. Steve learns he will inherit his brother's share of the racetrack stock, something that doesn't sit well with Frank's partners who inform Steve they intend to use a legal loophole to pay him off at a bargain basement price and assume total control of the operation. Steve soon discovers that he may not even get that money, as it becomes apparent someone has ordered him to be killed. Worse, he is being framed for the murder of his brother. The film follows the formula of old film noir crime thrillers and that isn't a bad thing. We see him use his wits and considerable fighting ability to thwart attempts on his life as he tries to find out who is out to get him. The logical suspects are the racetrack shareholders, a group of greedy elitists who don't want to be in business with him. Red herrings abound and Steve learns he can't trust anyone including Rita who informs him she wants them to resume their relationship now that Frank is in his grave.

"Tiger by the Tail" feels and looks like a TV movie of the era and that isn't a coincidence. Director R.G. Springsteen was best known for his work in television where he excelled in directing episodes of classic western  series, and his colleague on those shows, writer Charles A. Wallace wrote the screenplay for the film. (This would prove to be Springsteen's final work in the film industry before his death in 1989.) Springsteen's direction is workmanlike in some areas but more inspired in others. He milks a good deal of suspense from the plot and keeps the action moving at a brisk pace across the movie's 99 minute running time. Springsteen, perhaps because of budget limitations, shoots virtually every scene in a real location which adds authenticity to the production. The film boasts a good cast of supporting actors, all in top form: Lloyd Bochner and Alan Hale as the greedy stockholders, Dean Jagger as a Scrooge-like banker and most intriguing, John Dehner as the local sheriff (in an excellent performance) with a penchant for using twenty dollars words in his vocabulary and who, along with his hot-headed deputy (Skip Homeier) may be complicit in working with the bad guys. Steve's only friends are Sarah Harvey (Glenda Farrell), the perky owner of a gun and souvenir shop who performs ballistics tests in the shop and New Mexico State Trooper Ben Holmes (R.G. Armstrong) who offers Steve whatever limited advice and support he can. The singer Charo (yes, that Charo) is cast in a superfluous role to provide a couple of songs in a local bar and to add a bit of additional sex appeal when we aren't gawking at Tippi Hedren sunning herself poolside in a bikini. As a leading man, Christopher George is top-notch. He's handsome, rugged and capable with fists and a gun as he takes on seemingly insurmountable odds. George should have been a success on the big screen. He was coming off a run in the hit TV series "The Rat Patrol" but never quite got his opportunity to shine on the big screen. "Tiger by the Tale" represents one of his few leading roles in a feature film, though he impressed as villains in the John Wayne westerns "El Dorado" (1967) and "Chisum" (1970). He died in 1983 at only 51 years of age from heart complications.

The Kino Lorber transfer is impressive, as usual, though there are some occasional speckles and artifacts. However, it's doubtful that there are many pristine prints of the film floating around, given its lowly stature. The Blu-ray features a very good commentary track by film historians Howard S. Berger and Nathaniel Thompson, both of whom show a good deal of respect for the movie and all involved in its production. They are especially kind to Tippi Hedren, pointing out that she was long underrated as an actress. (She unfairly took most of the blame for the failure of Alfred Hitchcock's "Marnie" in which she starred.) The release also includes a gallery of other action films and mysteries available from KL, though no trailer is included for "Tiger by the Tail". I don't want to overstate the movie's merits. It certainly isn't a lost classic but I suspect you'll find it far more impressive than you might have suspected. Recommended.

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RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Even astute fans of retro cinematic classics may be unfamiliar with Billy Wilder's 1951 gem "Ace in the Hole". The film was a boxoffice flop in its American release back in the day but over the decades it has become regarded as a genuine classic and one of the best movies of its era. Kirk Douglas, in one of the truly great performances of his career, is cast as Chuck Tatum, a once-lauded reporter for a major New York newspaper, who finds his career on the skids. His cynical nature, overbearing personality and weakness for liquor has resulted in him being displaced to New Mexico, where- out of desperation- he convinces the editor of an Albuquerque paper to give him a job. Within hours, Tatum is bored by the sleepy atmosphere and passive nature of his co-workers, most of whom have no ambition beyond reporting minor stories of local interest. Things change radically when Tatum stumbles onto a crisis in the desert that could make for a compelling story. Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict) is the owner of a cafe located on a remote road who finds himself trapped in a cave after venturing inside to look for ancient Indian artifacts. Tatum sees that rescue plans for the man are rather poorly staged by the local deputy sheriff (Gene Evans). He enters the cave at great danger to himself and makes a connection with Leo, whose legs and midsection are buried under debris. Tatum is able to communicate with him from a small opening in a dirt mound and he assures Leo that he will get food, water and cigars while he organizes a rescue team. Grateful, Leo looks upon Tatum as his guardian angel. However, it becomes clear that Tatum is using his relationship with Leo for his own selfish purposes. He sees the potential as one of those "child stuck in a well" scenarios that tends to galvanize the entire nation. By personally taking charge of the rescue effort, Tatum makes himself a national hero overnight, as hundreds of people stream to the remote location and erect a tent city in order to be on the scene when Leo is eventually saved. Tatum, fully aware of American's eagerness to embrace the bizarre elements of any story, also plays up the notion that Leo is the victim of an ancient Indian curse for prowling around sacred tribal grounds.

Tatum has some disturbing factors to contend with, however. The primary problem is dealing with Leo's bombshell, self-centered wife Lorraine (Jan Sterling in a terrific performance). She was already looking to get out of a boring marriage with a boring man and decides to leave town during Leo's moment of crisis. Tatum uses a combination of charm and threats to convince her that staying put and playing the role of loyal wife would be in everyone's benefit. His prediction comes true in the financial sense, as the Minosa's cash-starved cafe begins to burst at the seams with visitors due to its proximity to the cave. Ironically, Leo's life-threatening predicament is finally bringing him the financial success that has eluded him. While Tatum becomes obsessed with manipulating the crisis, he also finds that his dispatches from the scene and his exclusive access to Leo have put him back in demand as a writer. He bypasses his own employer to sell updates to his ex-boss in New York at extortionist rates. He also has a hot/cold relationship with Lorraine, who clearly has a submissive sexual aspect to her moody demeanor. She's excited when Tatum mistreats her, though it's never made clear if their relationship goes beyond the flirtation stage. Tatum gets some disturbing news when he learns that the rescue team can use an expedited method to rescue Leo. Not wanting to kill the goose who laid the golden egg, Tatum manipulates the corrupt local sheriff (Roy Teal) into ordering a more labored method of rescue, even though it will result in a delay of days before reaching the victim. The decision has startling consequences for all involved. To say any more would negate the surprising turn of events depicted in the film. Suffice it to say, the intensity of the story continues to build throughout, making "Ace in the Hole" a truly mesmerizing cinematic experience.  

Criterion has released "Ace in the Hole" as a dual format Blu-ray/DVD. The quality, as one might expect, is up to the company's superb standards. The package is loaded with fascinating extras including a rare extended interview with Billy Wilder at the American Film Institute in 1986. In it, Wilder talks about "Ace in the Hole" and other aspects of his career. The film was an early directorial effort for him and the first movie he produced, following his career as one of the industry's most in-demand filmmakers. By his own admission, "Ace in the Hole" was a major source of frustration for him. The movie was ignored by American critics and audiences and even re-titled "The Big Carnival". In the post-WWII era, it was probably deemed far too cynical for U.S. audiences. In fact, the "hero" of the film is a cad, the leading lady is a self-obsessed phony and the local law officials are corrupt. Except for a few minor characters, there is no one in the film with a truly moral center. Wilder says he took heart from the fact that the movie was quite successful in its European release. The set also contains a 1988 interview with Kirk Douglas, who discusses the film and his respect for Wilder in a very informative segment. Most impressive is the inclusion of "Portrait of a 60% Perfect Man", a 1980 documentary by French film critic Michel Clement in which Wilder gives extraordinary access to his private life. We see him at home and at the office with long-time collaborator, I.A.L. Diamond as they laze around trying to come up with ideas for future projects. Wilder comes across as a symbol of Hollywood's bygone Golden Age. Speaking in a thick Austrian accent with his ever-present stogie at hand, Wilder regales the viewer with insights about his family's escape from the Nazi occupation and his unlikely meteoric rise up the film industry's food chain. Almost from the beginning he was a hot property and would remain a revered director, producer and writer throughout his entire career. The set also includes a vintage audio interview with another Wilder collaborator, screenwriter Walter Newman and an insightful and creatively designed "newspaper" with essays by critic Molly Haskell and filmmaker Guy Maddin. Director Spike Lee provides a brief video "afterword" in which he extols the virtues of the film and also shows off a cool original lobby card that he treasures because it is signed by both Wilder and Douglas. Topping off the "extras" is a truly excellent audio commentary track by film scholar Neil Sinyard, who provides so many interesting background observations about the film that it will open any viewer's eyes to the latent meanings of certain sequences and images. Even if you consider audio commentaries to be dry and academic, I do urge you to give this one a listen. It's first rate throughout. 

In summary, this is a first rate presentation of one of the most unfairly neglected American film classics; one that in recent years is finally getting the acclaim that it should have received on its initial release. Criterion has surpassed even its usual high standards. 

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Samuel Fuller is today regarded as a revered name among directors. Unlike his peers- John Ford, Alfred Hitchcock, John Huston, Howard Hawks, to name but a few- Fuller didn't get much respect when he needed it, at least from critics and studio heads who regarded his talents as workmanlike. Consequently, this talented director, screenwriter and occasional novelist and actor, toiled under meager budgets and scant support from studio executives. Fuller was typical of directors of his generation who had come of age during the Great Depression and World War II. He had a tough guy persona and had learned to survive on the mean streets of Manhattan where he worked as a crime reporter in the 1930s. Fuller could have landed a cushy job in the military during the war but eschewed the opportunity in favor of volunteering for combat duty in the European campaign. His scripts were tightly-written, no-nonsense affairs and his direction was direct and to-the-point. Fuller cut a larger-than-life figure with an out-sized personality and his penchant for indulging in cigars that were so large they looked as though they were inspired by cartoons. Despite the budgetary limitations on his films and the fact that he never enjoyed a career-defining breakaway hit, Fuller's movies have stood the test of time and before he died in 1997, he had witnessed his work being favorably reassessed by a new generation of directors and critics.

"Underworld U.S.A." is one of Fuller's true gems. A 1961 film noir crime story, the movie gave an early career boost to Cliff Robertson but its significance goes much deeper. Although viewed as a typical low budget crime thriller back in the day, the movie is a a true classic of the genre. The film opens with 14 year-old Tolly Davlin (David Kent), a street-wise product of a crime-infested unnamed big city, witnessing the beating death of the father he idolized by a pack of enforcers from a mob syndicate that he had crossed. Tolly's dad, himself a low-life who was teaching his son how to survive in the urban jungle by being more cunning and ruthless than the competition. Tolly, now orphaned, finds the only friend he has is Sandy (Beatrice Kay), a tough-as-nails saloon owner who takes a maternal interest in Tolly, though he rarely heeds her advice. Tolly is consumed with avenging his father's death. He arranges intentionally builds up a criminal record leading to him being incarcerated in a juvenile detention center- but all the while he is painstakingly following leads about who his father's murderers were and who employed them. The story jumps ahead and we find Tolly now a young man in his late twenties (played by Robertson) having been incarcerated in a prison that houses one of the killers, a man who is literally on his death bed in the hospital ward. That doesn't stop Tolly from smothering him with a pillow and making it look like natural causes. When Tolly is released from jail, he reunites with Sandy and has a chance encounter with  a sexy gun moll who is nicknamed Cuddles (Dolores Dorn) who has been marked for death for having failed to carry out a mission for the mob. Tolly saves her life and secretes her in Sandy's apartment while he begins his pursuit of two other men who killed his father that fateful night. Having succeeded in getting his street justice, he goes for bigger game: the syndicate bosses.

Fuller's film is somewhat unique in that he avoids the cliche of showing the mob echelon as seedy, Al Capone types. Instead, they are elite, sophisticated and corrupt businessmen and elected officials who run a major complex called The National Projects which ostensibly benefits the poor because periodically the Olympic-sized swimming pool welcomes neighborhood children. In reality, the top bosses live in splendor in penthouse apartments there and ruthlessly oversee their crime organization. In a clever plot device, Tolly works with the local crime-busting city official (Larry Gates) and volunteers to go undercover and work with the mob in order to bring them to justice. He then tells the mob he's a double agent, so to speak, and really working for them. Ultimately, he devises an inspired scheme by which he places circumstantial evidence to convince the crime lords that their partners are out to betray and kill them, thereby leading them to "off" each other and ensuring that Tolly's hands are clean. It's a plot device that was used in "The Godfather Part II" when the mob boss Frankie Pantangeli becomes mistakenly convinced that Michael Corleone tried to have him assassinated and tries to do the same to him. Similarly, in the 1989 James Bond film "Licence to Kill", 007 infiltrates a major drug gang and convinces the big boss that his key people are betraying him, thus leading to their murders.

BY PETER BENASSI

It was the enormously ambitious and costly film project they said would spectacularly flop; the 1937 feature length cartoon feature that even his own family tried to talk him out of making; the realised dream of an all cartoon motion picture, three years in the making, which broke new ground and cemented his place in film history. It could have failed and it was a gargantuan gamble, but it paid off handsomely and Walt Disney never looked back after the supremely seminal Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs became a global sensation and set him on his way to certain success with a succession of captivating cartoon classics. Then came the parks, the publications, the inevitable merchandise and the rest, as they say, is history. So much for this being “Disney’s Folly” which Snow White was unfortunately nicknamed - even during its production! Indubitably, the film serves as a life lesson in believing in yourself and following your dream. The visionary that was Walt Disney surely deserved every cent of success for the wealth of wonder and excitement for which he was responsible.

Picking up a copy of “Disneyland” comic from a selection of periodicals in the doctor’s surgery when I was a very young boy was enough to captivate me and ordain me as a Disney devotee. It became a weekly reading staple of mine from that point on, taking in “Mickey Mouse” comics along the way. I never missed “Disney Time” on the Beeb and the first big Disney movie for me at the cinema was Lady and the Tramp. It completely blew me away and even at that tender age, I knew that there was something extra special about this particular animation; everything about it was so wonderfully lifelike (I then had no knowledge of such animation processes and techniques such as rotoscoping). I eventually knew all the Disney characters by heart and longed to see the other films on the big screen. One by one, during school holidays and Easter weekends, I would get the invaluable opportunity to thrill to these masterpieces: Pinocchio (1940), The Jungle Book (1967), One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961), The Rescuers (1977). However, the one Disney production which never played at any of our local cinemas was the one film I wanted to see most of all. And that was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, having adored the classic Grimms fairy tale as a nipper and from which the film was adapted. Finally that day came when I was in my early teenage years and I actually visited the cinema to see it after all that time. I would have much preferred to have seen it as a child, but it still cast its magic spell over me and delivered the goods I had longed to see.

I think what appealed to me most about the Disney films, especially Snow White, were the genuinely frightening moments in his films that featured the villains of the piece. That stirred something deep inside me and was instrumental in making me a horror film aficionado as I grew older.

So, back to Snow White. Disney did something quite remarkable with the oft-told and much loved Grimms Brothers favourite Everyone knows the story of how a young princess, forced to flee for her life when her insanely jealous mother Queen demands she be killed because she is more beautiful, encounters a cottage full of dwarfs, becomes a mother to them and then is brought back from death by love’s first kiss, delivered by a handsome prince for whom she always had the hots. After which, it goes without saying, they all live happily ever after.

However, making a short and sweet little story into a full length animated and consistently entertaining film is no mean feat, but Disney knew exactly what he was doing and his invention and attention to detail here is extraordinarily admirable. There are no longeurs whatsoever and the film is carefully and cleverly paced and crafted to ensure that there is no extraneous material inserted to pad out the picture which has an the 83 minutes running time. For a start, the dwarfs are imbued with their own personalities and named accordingly; then there is that unmistakable anthropomorphic charm with the woodland creatures who befriend the gentle and sweet-tempered Snow White, help her with household chores but most importantly play a pivotal part in the exciting climax; beautifully written songs are introduced into the story along the way and could easily stand alone as classics in their own right. All of this works wonderfully well and never looks out of place or appears poorly judged.

BY TODD GARBARINI

In the days before the home video revolution made its way into my family, the only way to see a movie on television was to either watch it when it was aired or beg my grandmother to ask her brother to record it for me on his $1200 Magnavox video tape recorder. Just before Halloween in 1983, she told me of a movie that she had seen in a local theater in 1954 called The Maze, which starred one of her favorite actors, Richard Carlson. Channel 5 in New York was showing it at 2:30 am and we later viewed it at her brother’s house on VHS. I recall a TV trailer for Andrzej Zulawski’s Possession airing during the commercial break, oblivious that it would become one of my favorite horror movies seven years later.

The Maze, which was released in 3-D in July 1953 and played at the RKO Albee Theater in Brooklyn, NY with William Beaudine’s Roar of the Crowd with Howard Duff of all things, has all of the charms that one associates with B-movies of the 1950s. After a brief 1979 theatrical re-release of The Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954) in 3-D, the format was experiencing a resurgence at the box office beginning in the early 1980s with Ferdinando Baldi’s Comin’ at Ya!, which I was so disappointed to see was rated R! The Maze is a film that lacks action, something that was all too familiar in the 3-D resurgence and exactly what you want from the format. There is a lot of talking and discussions up until the very end, and this review contains spoilers regarding the very ridiculous denouement, so you’ve been warned!

Richard Carlson plays a Scotsman with no Scottish accent named Gerald MacTeam on vacation in Cannes. He’s engaged to his girlfriend Kitty (Veronica Hurst) and the pair seem perfectly happy until he receives a letter from William, his Uncle Samuel’s butler, informing him of his uncle having taken sick. Despite not having a relationship with his uncle (a Baronet), Gerald feels a moral obligation to go to his side and pushes aside his initial reluctance to help. Uncle Samuel resides in the foreboding Craven Castle, a stately manor bereft of modern conveniences such as electricity or telephones and it isn’t long before he passes away, his obituary capturing Kitty’s eye despite no communication from Gerald. Kitty is perplexed by his silence until he writes her some weeks later, “releasing” her from the engagement.

Kitty and her aunt make their way to the castle and Gerald is unsurprisingly distressed to see them both. He also looks like he’s aged fifteen years and is unceremoniously aloof. Kitty and her aunt stay the night, and Kitty discovers a hidden passage (remember the hidden room in 1979’s The Changeling?) that leads to a lookout tower which reveals a hedge maze in the rear of the castle (think 1980’s The Shining) and detects strange noises and movement in the middle of the night. The remainder of the film attempts to keep this secret from the audience and when its revealed to eyes 66 years hence, it’s difficult not to laugh. The “secret” is a frog-like monster who used to be the castle’s master and meets an untimely death following a horrific illness. In the end, Gerald is able to return to a normal existence.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lorber has released the 1992 British farce "Blame It on the Bellboy" on Blu-ray. The film is a fast-paced homage to old Hollywood screwball comedies that makes fine use of a very talented cast. Like all good farces, the script involves mistaken identities, extraordinary coincidences and an eclectic (and eccentric) collection of characters. The action takes place entirely in Venice where a nervous milquetoast, Melvyn Orton (Dudley Moore) is sent by a tyrannical boss to buy a villa. Simultaneously, a hit man with a similar name, Mike Lorton (Bryan Brown) arrives in the city to assassinate a local crime boss, Mr. Scarpa (Andreas Katsulas), who knows he has been marked for death but doesn't know the identity of his would-be killer. Scarpa and his men are determined to assassinate the assassin. Both Orton and Lorton are staying at the same hotel, so you can pretty much guess where this is going. Among the other guests is yet another man with a similar name, Maurice Horton (Richard Griffiths), the lord mayor of a small British city, who has told his wife Rosemary (Alison Steadman) that he is on a business trip to Boston. In fact, he has signed up with a tacky "dating service" that promises to arrange a meet-up with a woman who is also on holiday through the agency.She is Patricia Fulford (Penelope Wilton), a middle-aged lonely hearts who wants to find passion and love when she meets up with her mystery date. Meanwhile, local real estate agent Caroline Wright (Patsy Kensit) is awaiting a meeting with a prospective client to buy a white elephant of a villa on the Grand Canal so that she can collect an extravagant fee.

Through a mishap involving the hotel's inept bellboy (Bronson Pinchot), who delivers messages to the wrong rooms, there ensues a massive case of mistaken identities. Maurice thinks the sexy Caroline is his date, and a prostitute as well, whose "services" are part of his holiday package. Caroline thinks he is her client to buy the villa. Melvyn is mistaken by Scarpa as his assassin and is kidnapped and tortured. Meanwhile, the real assassin, Mike Lorton, is mistaken by Patricia as her mystery date. Adding to the zaniness is the unexpected arrival of Maurice's wife, who hopes to catch him in the act of cheating. What ensures is a wild, mind-spinning series of comedic events, all very deftly carried out at lightning speed by director Mark Herman, who makes the most of shooting on location amidst the eye-popping Venetian backgrounds. Herman, who also wrote the screenplay, ensures that this extraordinary mix of actors and characters never becomes too confusing for the viewer to follow, despite elaborate plot twists. There are chases on foot and by boat, people darting in and out of each other's bedrooms and it's all set to a jaunty score by Trevor Jones. "Blame It on the Bellboy" isn't a comedy classic but it's consistently funny with the impressive cast all in top form. Recommended, especially if you like a modern take on a Marx Brothers comedy. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray has a very good transfer and includes a vintage video promotional trailer for the film as well as an assortment of other trailers for K/L releases.

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Neil Simon, the Pulitzer and Tony Award winning playwright, has passed away at age 91. A Broadway legend, the Washington Post points out that he was considered the world's most popular playwright after Shakespeare, with his works adapted to international stage productions, TV series and motion pictures. Perhaps his signature pieces was "The Odd Couple", which was successful in all three mediums and is still widely-performed today. Simon wrote slice-of-life shows that usually centered on working class people, thus enabling a wide audience to identify with his characters and their humor. Click here for about his remarkable life and legacy.

BY JOE ELLIOTT

This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the release of Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet. The movie was a sensation when it came out in 1968, spurring ticket sales in the millions and becoming one of the top-grossing features of the decade. One reason the film made so much money was due to the number of people who returned for a second or even fifth viewing. It seemed audiences just couldn’t get enough of the story about those two star-crossed adolescent lovers from old Verona. The movie’s memorable music score, composed by Nino Rota, also became a best seller. The album quickly went gold and was later repackaged in a beautiful deluxe box set that included the entire movie soundtrack, along with two handsomely produced companion booklets.

There was something about the film, for all its shortcomings, that many found almost hypnotic. I’ll fess up and admit I was one of these people. I didn’t actually see it until the 1970s when it was still being trotted out in theaters in order to squeeze out extra profits for the studio. I was a teenager at the time and was more into flicks like Billy Jack and the Bond films than stories about people who lived hundreds of years ago and spoke in rhyming couplets. The only Shakespeare I had read was in class, the substance of which I found nearly indigestible. I did know something about the movie since one my English teachers had once played a portion of the soundtrack for us in class. However, apparently not having much else to do that summer evening, I decided to take a stroll down the street to our local movie palace and buy a ticket.

The first thing I noticed about the film was how rich in color it was. From the very beginning, following the smoky prologue spoken by Laurence Olivier, everything is drenched in bright primary colors. Things got off to a rousing start with the scene of the bloody brawl in the Verona marketplace between those two wild and crazy families, the Montagues and the Capulets. (I hadn’t realized until then that it was possible to be a real badass and still wear red and yellow striped tights with pointy soft leather shoes.) Soon the cops arrive (the prince and his soldiers) to break up the fracas and issue a stern warning to all those who would disturb the civil peace in the future. Immediately following this we get our first look at Romeo (Leonard Whiting), a handsome love-sick youth with a shaggy haircut. He talks dreamily of some girl he’s got a crush on, but then comes to his senses at seeing one of the wounded being carried away. Meanwhile, back at the Capulet palace, Juliet’s father (Paul Hardwick) is coyly negotiating the marriage of his daughter to a young man named Count Paris (Roberto Bisacco). The first time we see Juliet (Olivia Hussey) she’s running through the house like a kid at play.

All this is interspersed between scenes of Juliet and her bawdy, fun-loving nurse (Pat Heywood) talking to the girl’s mother Lady Capulet (Natasha Parry) about marriage and things, immediately followed by a night scene of Romeo and his friends on a soliquious pub crawl through the deserted streets of Verona. Later that same evening Romeo and his mates crash the Capulet masquerade ball. The ball scene is among the highlights of the film. It is here Zeffirelli really shows his stuff, combining visual pageantry with an almost obsessive attention to detail. Everything about this sequence is highly choreographed, from the beautifully composed dance scenes (“the moresca!”) right down to the fastidious arrangement of the candles and platters of fruit (Zeffirelli had studied art and architecture in his student days). Absolutely nothing is left to chance. In the hands of a less gifted visual director, and Zeffirelli was nothing if he wasn’t visual, all of this might have come off as too showy and distracting. However, here the effect is just the opposite. The viewer almost feels as if he or she is present in the scene, seductively pulled in as we are by the sensuous whirl of warm colors, voices and melodious music. All of it lovingly captured by the gifted eye of cinematographer Pasqualino De Santi who was awarded an Oscar for his efforts on the project. Clearly, the ocular accoutrements of this particular production are as essential to its success as the words of Shakespeare himself.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

The early-to-mid 1970s was the heyday of grungy cop thrillers. Films exploring the seamier side of police work arguably got its biggest boost from the 1968 release of "Bullitt", which dared to show cops intertwined with ethically-challenged politicians in their common quest for career advancement. With the release of "The French Connection" and "Dirty Harry" in 1971, the genre kicked into high gear. In these films, the anti-hero disregards constitutional protections to take the law into his own hands. With America reeling from soaring crime rates, audiences cheered on these dubious symbols of our justice system. It's safe to say that watching these films from today's standpoint, one might have a different reaction to the tactics used by Popeye Doyle and Harry Callahan. However, there were more nuanced looks at modern urban police departments in films that explored corruption without the benefit of an superhuman anti-hero. Sidney Lumet's "Serpico" certainly exemplifies this type of film, with the protagonist being an every day cop who suffers terribly for calling out the blatantly criminal acts being committed by his peers. Similarly, a lesser-known film dealing the same subject matter- "Report to the Commissioner"- took a cynical look at the NYPD and found a nest of bribery, payoffs and other illegal methods used by many cops. This was not just some left-wing fantasy. The experience of Frank Serpico and fellow whistle-blower cop David Durk had blown the lid off massive corruption in the NYPD. The result was the formation of the Knapp Commission which uncovered widespread graft in the department and instituted radical changes to clean up the NYPD. A number of criminal indictments were handed down. "Report to the Commissioner" was released in 1975, well after the Knapp Commission had released its findings but during a period when faith in the NYPD remained weak among the citizens, who were shocked at the level of corruption unveiled in the Knapp probe. Adding to the public paranoia was the recent Watergate scandal. The film went into production shortly after President Nixon resigned in disgrace just two years after being re-elected in the biggest landslide in American history.

The story centers on the experiences of rookie undercover cop Bo Lockley (Michael Moriarty), who from the get-go seems too naive and sensitive to fit in with the hard-boiled detectives he's been assigned to work with. They cruelly subject him to hazing and never stop mocking him for looking like a hippie, even though he's not supposed to look like a cop since he works undercover. Lockley is shown the ropes around the Times Square district by fellow officer "Crunch" Blackstone (Yaphet Kotto), a hard-bitten veteran who strolls through the grimy neighborhood like a king, routinely abusing its denizens by words and physical actions. Lockley is appalled but Crunch warns him that survival in this part of the city depends on being feared, not being admired. The script introduces a parallel story line in which a young female undercover cop, Patty Butler (Susan Blakely) comes up with a dangerous plan to bring down local crime kingpin "Stick" Henderson (Tony King), who has evaded being arrested despite being the area's most feared pimp and drug dealer. Patty requests permission to pose a teenage runaway, seduce Stick and ultimately become his "old lady" with the intent of being able to witness his day-to-day operations and gather enough evidence to arrest him. The plan obviously violates departmental regulations but both Patty and her two superiors are eager for the promotions that would result from bringing Stick to justice so they approve her plan. Patty makes good on reeling in Stick and before long she's shacking up with him. Lockley, doggedly trying to find and rescue her on the assumption she is a runaway in distress, manages to trace her to Stick's apartment where the two men engage in a gun battle. Patty is tragically killed in the incident, and Lockley pursues Stick in a wild foot chase that includes Times Square before culminating in the men encountering each other inside an elevator in Saks Fifth Avenue. This is the most suspenseful sequence in the film. The police shut the power off, stranding Lockley and his prey in a sweltering, confined space with both men pointing guns at each other. Over time, they engage in a conversation in which Stick tries to persuade Lockley that they are both doomed because if they are allowed to live, their stories will bring disgrace to higher-ups in the NYPD. The conspiracy aspects of the script reflect the mood of the era. Nobody in the film is a traditional good guy except Lockley and he's treated like a fish-out-of-water.

"Report to the Commissioner" succeeds in presenting a gritty, realistic view of New York City during its decline in an era when crime was soaring, the streets were dirty and the future looked grim. Anyone visiting Gotham today would surely pronounce the city's turn-around as a miracle but there is no doubt that New York went through some difficult years and these were reflected in the movies of the era. However, the film is flawed in some key areas. Director Milton Katselas, who was revered as a playwright and academic more than a filmmaker (he directed only a handful of movies), is saddled with an erratic script by old pros Ernest Tidyman and Abby Mann, based on a novel by James Mills. The story isn't told in a linear fashion and instead jumps back and forth from present to past and vice-versa, making for an occasionally confusing experience for the viewer. Consequently, while some scenes are highly engaging, the film never gels satisfactorily as a whole. Not helping matters is the performance of Michael Moriarty as Lockley. We know he is supposed to be a naive rookie but at times Moriarty plays the part like he just stepped off a turnip truck and is seeing New York for the first time. His wide-eyed innocence often strains credibility. More convincing is Yaphet Kotto, who commands the screen in every scene in which he appears. Sadly, he vanishes from the middle section of the film, much to its detriment.  Tony King is excellent as "Stick" and young Bob Balaban excels as a double-amputee who acts as a police informant. The scene in which he uses his crude, wooden wheeled "dolly" to hitch a ride on a speeding car makes for a thrilling experience. However, certain other cast members over-act and dilute the impact of their scenes. Even the great Elmer Bernstein's score seems unusually mediocre. 

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray is a very fine transfer that captures the glitter and the gutters of New York during this period. The Blu-ray includes the original theatrical trailer. 

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Like Marlon Brando, director John Huston was often considered to be a has-been during much of the 1960s into the early 1970s. He worked steadily, but- like Brando- it was assumed his glory days were behind him simply because most of his films during this period didn't generate sparks at the boxoffice. (The success of his 1975 film The Man Who Would Be King would temporarily restore his luster.) His acting career got a boost from his great performance in Chinatown, but even some of his directorial flops look far better today than they did at the time of their theatrical release. One major disappointment, artistically as well as financially, was the seemingly sure-fire hit The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, made in 1972 and starring Paul Newman fairly fresh from his triumph in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The movie is a whimsical tale that is nevertheless loaded with violence and gallows humor (literally). The story is (very) loosely based on the real Roy Bean, an outlaw who became a self-appointed judge who called himself the "only law West of the Pecos" at a time when parts of Texas were a no-man's land of thieves, murderers and swindlers. Bean became known as a hard-ass judge who dispensed lethal justice. In reality, he only sentenced two men to be hanged and one managed to escape. Nevertheless, his colorful background provides screenwriter John Milius with plenty of imaginative fodder for fictitious encounters and incidents. We first meet Bean when he ambles into a remote outpost where he is robbed and beaten mercilessly by the denizens. He returns shortly thereafter and single-handed kills them all, thus instantly making him a local legend among the peasants who live in the area. Bean becomes obsessed with studying the law and showing mercy on the poorest elements of society. He even takes a lover, a young Hispanic woman (Victoria Principal, in her screen debut). Bean appoints himself as a "judge" despite not having any legal authority to do so. He enlists a group of slovenly "deputies" to dispense justice in his courtroom, which is the bar in which he was robbed. Before long, Bean is holding kangaroo trials and routinely lynching anyone who incurs his wrath. Despite this, he gains a reputation for being fair and defending the defenseless.  He adopts a bear and the movie presents some amusing sequences of Bean and his friends interacting with this over-sized "pet". The film traces his experiences over a period of years as the remote outpost becomes a bustling town. Bean is gradually sidelined as a force of influence. The death of his young wife during the birth of their daughter depresses him further and he rides off into oblivion. Twenty years later he returns to find that oil has been discovered on his property and that the corrupt mayor (Roddy McDowall) is using legally questionable methods to displace Bean's 20 year old daughter (Jacqueline Bisset) so he can control the oil on her land. Bean's reappearance causes a sensation as he rounds up his motley, aging group of former deputies to help his daughter fight for her rights. A fairly spectacular battle climaxes the film.

Bean offers many pleasures, not the least of which is a terrific supporting cast that includes cameos by Anthony Perkins, Tab Hunter (surprisingly good in an off-beat role), Anthony Zerbe, Stacy Keach (wonderful as a crazed, albino gunslinger), Ava Gardner as the legendary Lily Langtree, the object of Bean's romantic obsession even though he never meets her, and John Huston himself in an amusing appearance as Grizzly Adams. There are also plenty of familiar faces in the supporting cast including Ned Beatty, Bill McKinney (reunited from Deliverance with happier results) Richard Farnsworth and stuntmen Dean Smith and Neil Summers. The attempt to capitalize on the success of Butch Cassidy is fairly apparent, as evidenced by a fairly sappy love song and romantic montage that is obviously meant to emulate the famed Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head sequence from the former film. Nevertheless, Bean is a consistently enjoyable, rousing Western that probably plays much better today, when we can realize just how special acting ensembles like this truly are. Maurice Jarre's fine score adds immeasurably to the the enjoyment of the experience. 

The Warner Archive has released the film as fine-looking Blu-ray. The only bonus extra is the amusing original trailer. 

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BY TIM GREAVES

It was arguably the success of A Fistful of Dollars that really set the ball rolling on the slew of shameless spaghetti western rip-offs and cash-ins that proliferated throughout the 1960s, as film-makers jostled to get a taste of the sauce and chow down on a cut of the rewards from what quickly became a very profitable arena in which to be operating. 

Sartana rode into town a little later than popular gunslingers such as Sabata, Django and Ringo, but he made enough of an impression to warrant a number of official sequels – and several unofficial ones too. Just five legitimate Sartana films were lensed, with Gianni Garko (billed as John Garko) headlining in four of them and George Hilton just one. Cucumber cool antihero Sartana was notably more dapper than most of his mud-spattered box office rivals, a real snappy dresser in fact; with his black cape lined in red silk, sharp matching cravat and crisp white shirt, he cut a fine figure riding through desolate wasteland, deck of cards in one hand, natty miniature four-shooter in the other, always ready to spit out a death sentence when the moment was called for. In the first film he even retrieved a musical pocket watch from a corpse and proceeded to use its tinkly chime to taunt his nemesis.

The fabulously contrived titles of the five films belied a series of enjoyable enough but not exactly top-tier western actioners. Dripping with all the requisite tropes of the genre, and occasionally sprinkling a few unexpected condiments into the pot, they’re perfectly watchable fare, but it’s unlikely many would favour any of them over a Sabata instalment or, indeed, an Eastwood classic. If, for this writer, there’s any problem at all with the Sartana series – and it’s one that prevents them from residing up there among the genre’s finest – it’s that in every instance a plot suited at best to the 50-minute TV episode format was, out of necessity, stretched to feature length, the resultant slightness of narrative rendering them all far too leisurely paced.

The five official Sartana films have now been issued on Blu-ray by Arrow Video in an impressive collectors’ box set. Accompanied by an illustrated book, each film is individually packaged and boasts reversible sleeve art, and the entire collection is housed in an attractive slipcase.

The series kickstarter was 1968’s If you meet Sartana pray for your eath (O.T. Se incontri Sartana prega per la tua morte), directed by Frank Kramer, a.k.a. Gianfranco Parolini. (Note: in Italian film titles, only the first word is capitalised.) Among the most enjoyable of the quintet, the plot concerns a pair of dodgy bankers who hire a group of Mexicans to steal a strongbox filled with gold, subsequently allowing them to claim on the insurance. In fact, the precious cargo has been substituted with rocks, the valuable contents having already been squirrelled away in a coffin. Following the heist, the Mexicans are quickly eliminated to wipe out any evidence of the scam. It’s up to Sartana to uncover the truth and retrieve the gold. Any anticipation engendered by the opening credit “with the special participation of Klaus Kinsky” (sic) is swiftly quelled; it’s anything but special, for the A-class actor – who possessed one of cinema’s most expressive faces (and intimidating grimaces!) – is relegated to sideline status for much of the action. At least any disappointment on that score is appeased by the presence of a satisfyingly formidable bad guy in the shape of wild-eyed, buttercup-chewing William Berger as Lasky, who, when he’s not gleefully massacring bandits with his hand-cranked Gatling gun, proves to be a single-shot marksman, planting bullets centre-forehead in more unfortunates than it’s possible to keep tally of. An ace cardsharp, Sartana makes a fast enemy of Lasky when he cleans him out at the poker table. Despite the paucity of plot, director Kramer manages to sustain interest, layering in double and triple crosses as Sartana gently manipulates the wrong-doers into turning on each other. There’s a stab at comic relief too in the form of Franco Pesce as the town’s undertaker, but for this writer his theatrical gurning and cartoonish mannerisms eclipse the intended amiable quirkiness to become distractingly irksome.

Arrow’s 2K restoration from the original film materials displays a fair amount of grain, but aside from one brief moment of picture damage at the outset and a slightly protracted patch of vertical scratching further along, the print is in very respectable shape. The film can be viewed in either an English dub or its original Italian with newly translated English subtitles. Supplements comprise a commentary from film historian (and Cinema Retro contributor) Mike Siegel, an interview with director Kramer, a helpful guide to the characters in the Sartana universe, and a gallery of artwork and stills.

A year later, in 1969, I am Sartana, your angel of death (O.T. Sono Sartana, il vostro becchino) was unleashed. In this one our man (Garko again) appears to have been involved in a bank robbery and finds himself at the top of the most wanted list, with a $10,000 dead or alive price on his head. He didn’t do it, of course, so has to hunt down the real perpetrator to clear his name, whilst evading bounty hunters hot on his trail and intent on bagging the reward. It’s a decent enough follow-up from director Giuliano Carnimeo (credited as Anthony Ascott), which showcases another fine Garko performance (with Sartana now displaying a knack for sleight of hand card tricks) and the return of Klaus Kinski (spelt with the “I” this time) in a meatier, albeit less threatening role, that of a gambler-cum-bounty hunter with the best character name of anyone in the entire run of Sartana pictures: Hot Dead. Unfortunately, Franco Pesce (uncredited this time) is also back, now promoted to town mayor, fortuitously only briefly on screen but every bit as annoying. The story unfolds at a sedate price, but Ascott and cinematographer Giovanni Bergamini keep things percolating with some stylish set-ups, the camera lurching sideways whenever bodies spin and hit the dust. One brief scene stands out for this writer, if not for the right reason; when Sartana dodges a spray of bullets from a trio of pursuing gunmen by zigzagging left and right, any sense of suspense is undermined by spurred memories of the amusing Peter Falk/Alan Arkin ‘serpentine’ sequence in 1979’s The In-Laws!

Arrow had access to the original camera negative for this one and the 2K restoration is very nice indeed. Again sound options are English and Italian. Extras comprise a commentary from historian and filmmakers C Courtney Joyner and Henry Peake, interviews with screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi and stuntman Sal Borgese, plus a gallery of European poster art and German lobby cards.

BY TODD GARBARINI

Alfred Sole is a production designer who has carved out a nice career for himself in Hollywood, most notably on the television shows Veronica Mars (2004-7), Castle (2009-16), and the reboot of MacGyver (2017-18). Long before he chose that line of work however, he dabbled in the world of film directing. His first film, the 1972 hardcore sex “comedy” Deep Sleep, must be seen to be believed because despite a few flourishes of cinematic style and several humorous sequences involving dialogue, it’s just a hardcore sex romp featuring folks no one in their right mind would want to see naked let alone copulating. There is absolutely nothing in this film to suggest that he would next direct one of the greatest and most thematically disturbing thrillers of our time, 1976’s Communion, not to be confused with the Christopher Walken/alien-probe-up-the-old-dirt-road 1989 outing based on Whitley Strieber’s 1987 “non-fiction” book of the same name. His subsequent films, 1980’s Tanya’s Island with the late and impossibly gorgeous Denise Matthews (credited as “D.D. Winters”) and 1982’s star-studded comedy Pandemonium both fared poorly at the box office, hence his career change. Thankfully Communion, with its high cinematic style and deceptively low production budget, refused to die.

In her screen debut, Brooke Shields plays Karen Spages (rhymes with “pages”), the younger sister of Alice Spages, the latter brilliantly portrayed by New Jersey-born actress Paula Sheppard. Karen is favored by everyone around her and can do no wrong, mostly because Alice is a, forgive the pun, holy terror. Alice teases Karen, locks her in a building to scare her, and mistreats her communion veil. Why the horseplay? Alice was conceived out of wedlock and is not entitled to receive the Holy Eucharist. As if this is her fault.

On the day of her first communion Karen is brutally murdered right in the church and all suspicion points to her sister after she finds the discarded veil and wears it to the altar. This sets in motion some truly well-acted scenes wherein the identity of the killer is constantly in question. Everyone suspects Alice, even her neighbor Mr. Alphonse (Alphonse DeNoble), an obese monstrosity you must see to believe. Karen and Alice’s mother Catherine (Linda Miller) is grief-stricken and meets her ex-husband Dom (Niles McMaster) at the funeral. Afterwards, there are suspicions about Alice’s whereabouts during Karen’s murder and Alice submits to a polygraph which she mischievously pushes on to the floor. Her Aunt Annie (Jane Lowry) battles with her sister and the latter accuses her of hating Alice because of her sinful status. Annie refutes this until she herself is attacked in a shockingly bloody sequence and fully believes that Alice is the killer.

Alice takes place circa 1961 as evinced by the production design, the old-style cars, the calendar on the wall, and the prevalence of a poster of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) that can be seen if one really looks for it. Originally reviled amid concerns that it’s an attack against the Catholic Church (how can it not be?), the film was met with lukewarm box office. Director Sole was rumored to have stated that the church was simply the milieu he wanted to set the story against, but the commentary infers otherwise. It’s one of the most Catholic-themed films I’ve ever seen, even more so than William Friedkin’s The Exorcist (1973). It has a look, a feel, and an atmosphere all its own. This film is quite simply one of the best low-budget American horror films ever made. It boasts a superbly eerie score by Stephen Lawrence who scored a handful of other films. Yours Truly has been wishing for a soundtrack album of this music for years, however one has yet to surface. Great editing, wonderful set design, and excellent music all come together to make Alice an enjoyable shocker that can easily be viewed more than several times.

This film has had a strange history. Filmed in Mr. Sole’s hometown of Paterson, NJ in the summer of 1975, Alice premiered in Paterson (Lou Costello’s old stomping grounds) under its original title Communion on Saturday, November 13, 1976 at the Fabian Theater (now the Fabian Building). The event was met with much fanfare, however a subsequent theatrical release failed to stir much interest. Communion was dropped by the original distributor, picked up by another, retitled Alice, Sweet Alice, re-cut and redistributed in 1981 as Holy Terror and played up Ms. Shields’s participation in response to the success of the previous year’s The Blue Lagoon. It then made its way to cable television and local independent stations where the bulk of us caught up with it. Later on it was relegated to VHS collecting dust in discount bins beginning in 1985 with Goodtimes Home Video, seemingly forever to be lost within the public domain due to a legal snafu. I bought it for ten dollars, which was unheard of in an era when the MSRP on a VHS tape was roughly eighty dollars. In 1998, the film received a laserdisc release from the Roan Group which sported a highly entertaining audio commentary from director Sole and the film’s editor, Edward Salier. The film was given two DVD releases later on, which ported over the commentary. Even without the benefit of Sole's discussion, one can easily see the influence that Nicolas Roeg's astonishing Don’t Look Now (1973) has on this film.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Sam Spiegel was one of the most revered and accomplished producers in Hollywood history. His achievements included such classics as "On the Waterfront", "The African Queen", "The Bridge on the River Kwai" and "Lawrence of Arabia". His body of work, though not nearly as extensive as that of some other producers, was notable in the sense that Spiegel thought big and shot for the moon when it came to bringing to the screen stories that spoke to the human condition. Following the triumphant release of "Lawrence" in 1962, Spiegel did not make another film for four years. When he did, the movie - "The Chase"- turned out to be a star-packed drama that won over neither critics or audiences. Spiegel had a more ambitious idea for his next production, a screen adaptation of the best-selling WWII thriller "The Night of the Generals" by Hans Helmut Kirst. Spiegel had the inspired idea of reuniting his "Lawrence of Arabia" co-stars Peter O'Toole and Omar Sharif. They  were reluctant to take on the project, but they certainly owed him. Both were virtual unknowns until Spiegel gave them the roles that made them international stars. Spiegel also added to the mix an impressive cast of esteemed British actors ranging from veterans such as Donald Pleasence and Charles Gray to up-and-coming young actors Tom Courtenay and Joanna Pettet. He chose Anatole Litvak to direct. Litvak had been making films for decades and had a few notable hits such as "Sorry, Wrong Number", "Anastasia" and "The Snake Pit". Spiegel being Spiegel ensured that the production benefited from a large budget and an appropriate running time (148 minutes) that would allow the story to unfold in a measured process.

"The Night of the Generals" is certainly a unique spin on WWII films. There are no battles or major action sequences, save for a harrowing sequence in which the German army systematically destroys part of the Warsaw Ghetto. Instead, it's very much a character study populated by characters who are, indeed, very interesting. The film opens with a tense sequence set in occupied Warsaw. The superintendent of an over-crowded apartment building accidentally overhears the brutal murder of a local prostitute in a room upstairs. From a hiding place he witnesses the killer walk past him. He does not see the man's face but recognizes his uniform: he is a general in the German army. The man keeps this information to himself on the logical assumption that divulging it might mean his death sentence. However, under questioning from the army investigator, Major Grau (Omar Sharif), he tells the shocking details of what he witnessed. From this moment, Grau becomes obsessed with finding the killer. Grau may be a German officer, but he is a pure cynic when it comes to the Nazi cause and the brutal methods being employed to win the war. He can't control the larger picture of how the war is being waged but he can control what is in his jurisdiction: bringing to justice the man who committed this one especially savage murder. Grau soon centers on three suspects. The first is General von Seiditz-Gabler (Charles Gray, channeling his future Blofeld), an effete, well-connected opportunist who is in a loveless marriage to his dominating wife Eleanore (Coral Browne). Then there is General Kahlenberg (Donald Pleasence), a man of slight build and low-key personality who has some eccentric personal habits that may include murder. Last, and most intriguing, is General Tanz (Peter O'Toole), a much-loathed and much-feared darling of Hitler's inner circle whose ruthless methods with dealing with civilian populations disgust his colleagues. Tanz has been sent to control or obliterate the Warsaw Ghetto.

The screenplay (which includes contributions by an uncredited Gore Vidal) is a bit disjointed and cuts back and forth to the present day in which we see a French police inspector, Morand (Phillippe Noiret), investigating the case twenty years later as he tries to tie together Grau's findings with dramatic developments that occurred during his handling of the case. Morand also appears in the war era sequences, having befriended Grau, who does not seem at all disturbed when he learns that Morand is actually a key figure in the French Resistance. Grau becomes particularly intrigued by General Ganz. He is an elitist snob who is devoid of any humor or compassion. A workaholic with seemingly no human weaknesses, Tanz is ostensibly under the command of his superior officer, Gabler, but it becomes clear that his political connections make him the top general in Warsaw. Major Grau interviews all three suspects and finds that any of them could be the murderer. When he becomes too intrusive, he is conveniently promoted and transferred to Paris, presumably to shut down his investigation. However, as the fortunes of war decline for the Third Reich, the top brass is eventually  moved to Paris and Grau resumes his investigation when he discovers that prostitutes are being brutally murdered there as well. There is a parallel story that accompanies that of the murder investigation. It centers on Corporal Hartmann (Tom Courtenay), a young soldier who has been reluctantly acclaimed to be a national hero. It seems he was the last surviving member of his unit after a bloody battle. The brass used him as a propaganda tool, bestowing medals on him for heroic actions. In fact, he is a self-proclaimed coward whose only goal is to stay alive through the war. Hartmann confesses this to his superior, General Kahlenberg, who is amused by his honesty. He assigns him to be General Tanz's personal valet and orders him to show Tanz the history and sights of Paris. Neither he nor Tanz wants to partake in the venture, but Gabler orders Tanz to take a few days vacation, largely because he despises the man's presence. The scenes in which Hartmann tries to appease the mercurial Tanz without making any missteps are fraught with tension and suspense. Tanz is a fascinating character, presumably devoid of the vices most men have. However, in the course of their time together, Hartmann realizes that Tanz is somewhat of a fraud. He surreptitiously drinks to excess and changes into civilian clothes in order to meet with prostitutes in seedy bars. Although Tanz chews out Hartmann for every minor infraction, he seems to come to respect the younger man's professionalism. This sets in motion another complex plot development that also involves Hartmann's secret romance with General Gabler's free-spirited daughter Ulrike (Joanna Pettet). 

Just trying to summarize the various plot strands of "The Night of the Generals" in this space is fairly exhausting. Oh, did I mention that another subplot involves Field Marshal Rommel (a cameo by Christopher Plummer) and the July, 1944 plot on the part of rebellious German officers to assassinate Adolf Hitler? Nevertheless, although the various story lines become quite complex, they are all tied together eventually in clever and compelling ways. The film is part "Whodunnit", part political statement and part war movie. The movie moves back to the present for its intense conclusion as Inspector Morand is finally able to solve the crime and attempt to bring the culprit to justice. When the killer is revealed it's about as shocking of a development as the revelation that the butler did it in one of those old British film noir mysteries. Still, director Litvak (who shares the producer credit with Sam Spiegel because he owned the screen rights to the novel) keeps the action flowing briskly running time and elicits outstanding performances from his cast. O'Toole, who would later capitalize on playing larger-than-life characters, was at this point in his career still very immersed in portraying introspective, quiet men. He is quite mesmerizing as General Tanz and quite terrifying as well. Sharif is, at least on the surface, badly cast. I'm not aware of any Egyptians who became prominent German officers. Sharif has the map of the Middle East on his face and lingering remnants of his native accent. It's to his credit that he overcomes these obstacles and gives a very fine performance as the charismatic investigator who doggedly pursues his suspects with Javert-like conviction. All of the other performances are equally outstanding, with Courtenay especially impressive- and one has to wonder why the very talented Joanna Pettet never became a bigger star. The international flavor of the cast gives the film a Tower of Babel-like effect. Some of the actors attempt to affect a quasi-German accent while others speak with British accents, and then we have the French and Poland-based sequences with even more diversity of languages. Still, if you could accept Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood speaking "German" in their native tongues in "Where Eagles Dare", you won't find this aspect of "The Night of the Generals" to be particularly distracting. I should also mention the impressive contributions of composer Maurice Jarre, cinematographer Henri Decae and main titles designer Robert Brownjohn (remember when films even had opening titles?) In summary, the film-which not successful with critics or the public- is a  thoroughly intriguing experience and affords us the joy of watching some of the best actors of the period sharing the screen.

"The Night of the Generals" has been released as a limited edition (3,000 units) Blu-ray from Twilight Time. The transfer is gorgeous, giving full impact to the impressive cinematography and lush production design. There is also an isolated score track, the original trailer and an informative booklet by film historian Julie Kirgo, who examines Sam Spiegel's attempts to rebuild his career in subsequent years only to find that he was out of place in the new Hollywood.

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BY TIM GREAVES

Springboarding from a youth spent shooting their own movies on 8mm – the heartfelt intent and burning enthusiasm for which sometimes (but not always) rendered the made-for-pennies mini-epics amusingly watchable today – in 1987 the enterprising Chiodo brothers finally got to stage their first feature film production, which was released to decent acclaim in 1988. Produced and co-written by Charles, Edward and Stephen Chiodo, with the latter occupying the director’s chair, that film is every bit as bizarre as you’d expect of one bearing the title Killer Klowns from Outer Space.

The town of Crescent Cove is under assault by alien beings, which appear in the form of freakish clowns and whose spaceship adopts the facade of a circus tent. These aliens are abducting the populace and cocooning them in a flesh-eating substance resembling candyfloss. It’s up to local cop Dave Hansen (John Allen Nelson), clean-cut lad Mike Tobacco (Grant Cramer) and a pair of simpleton ice cream vendors – the Terenzi  brothers (Michael Siegal and Peter Licassi) – to rescue Mike’s girlfriend Debbie (Suzanne Snyder) from a horrible fate and save the town.

It’s not hyperbolic to say that Killer Klowns from Outer Space is a comic-horror caper like no other. A kooky, colourful confection of chuckles and gore, the Chiodos lay on the (pop)corny gags and cheesy SFX with unrestrained relish. How much fun there is to be found in balloon animals coming to life, pieces of ‘living’ popcorn mutating into aggressive clown-headed snake-creatures, human ventriloquist dummies, acid-laced cream pies, and giant shadow puppets eating spectators is, of course, entirely subjective. For this viewer it has to be said that by the time the final reel unspools the silliness overload runs out of fizz, but there’s certainly no faulting the imagination and passion at play here. And it’s hard not to enjoy something that gifts John Vernon with a frothy bad guy role; although for many (myself included) he’ll always be Animal House’s Dean Vernon Wormer, he’s on good form here as a bully-boy cop who gets his just desserts. Coulrophobics should unquestionably avoid this one, for the titular Klowns are the ugliest, most rotten-toothed bunch you’ll find this side of a Billy Smart’s Circus OAP reunion. But for everyone else, as daft as the whole shebang may be, this is post-pub Friday night fodder of the highest order.

Arrow Video has issued the film on Blu-ray with a Big Top’s worth of supplemental material, though it’s as interested in the careers of the Chiodo brothers in general as it is Klowns-specific. The key lure is a documentary about the Chiodo’s passion for the home movies mentioned at the start of this review, and HD transfers of the half a dozen titles shot between 1968 and 1978 are included, technically proficient and evidencing their love of Ray Harryhausen’s stop-motion monster animation. There’s also a tour of Chiodo Bros Productions in the company of Stephen. Tied to Klowns itself there’s a feature-accompanying Chiodo commentary. Interviews with actors Grant Cramer and Suzanne Snyder, along with theme song performers The Dickies, are appended by archival pieces from Charles Chiodo, effects supervisor Gene Warren, creature creator Dwight Roberts and composer John Massari. There are 2 deleted scenes (with optional commentary), bloopers, Klown auditions footage, a vintage trailer and a gallery of artwork, storyboards and stills. It’s so par for the course now that it scarcely needs mentioning, but the usual Arrow sugar-coating of a reversible sleeve is present and correct.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

We recently reported on the trials and tribulations everyone associated with “Gotti” experienced over the seven years expended in attempting to bring the biopic to the big screen (the film has more producers credited than the entire population of Lichtenstein.) . When the film did open, it earned the rare distinction of being unanimously panned by the critics surveyed on Rotten Tomatoes. So, I guess I’m out there on my own when I say I found the film to be quite satisfying on any number of levels. Mind you, I’m also a defender of Michael Cimino’s “Heaven’s Gate”, so you should take that into consideration. To read the reviews of this troubled production, one would think it was genuinely awful. It isn’t. In fact, there is much to recommend here, not the least of which is the very effective performance by John Travolta as the titular New York crime boss John Gotti. It’s a bold performance by Travolta, as he ages on screen from a young, aspiring mob member to an older man dying from throat cancer while locked in solitary confinement in a federal penitentiary. Travolta looks the part and captures the swagger of Gotti. His performance here represents his most ambitious and impressive work on screen in many years.

The film, directed by Kevin Connolly, rather superficially chronicles Gotti’s rise from lowly Mafia henchman to a mid-range boss under the command of Gambino crime family cappo du tutti capo Paul Castellano (Donald John Volpenhein). Gotti is displeased with “Big Paul” because he inherited his status in the mob as opposed to having coming up from the streets and earned respect the old-fashioned way. Worse, Castellano resides in a mansion on a hill and has never developed personal friendships with his underlings. That’s not only a job-killer if you’re in the Mafia, it’s also a trait that doesn’t bode well for anyone looking forward to enjoying old age. The film depicts Gotti plotting to use a team of confederates to assassinate “Big Paul”, with the tacit approval of his immediate superior and mentor Neil Dellacroce (marvelously played by Stacy Keach), who everyone believes should hold the position “Big Paul” now enjoys. But Dellacroce is terminally ill and he gives his blessing for Gotti to “off” him which infamously occurred when the target and his driver were dining at Sparks Steak House in Manhattan. Gotti is then established as the boss of the Gambino crime family.

The screenplay by Lem Dobbs and Leo Rossi is admirable on several counts. The dialogue rings true to anyone who grew up in or around New York City (yes, I know guys who still joke “I wouldn’t fuck her with your dick”) and there are some powerful scenes that truly resonate from a dramatic standpoint. But the writers err by failing to tell the tale in a linear manner. Instead, events hopscotch all over the decades. In one scene Gotti is a young hood looking to impress his bosses by performing a hit. Next we see him as a middle-aged man trying to cope with domestic problems and grieving over the death of his young son in a traffic accident. (Gotti’s wife Victoria is played by Travolta’s real-life wife Kelly Preston in a fine and convincing performance.) Next we see an almost unrecognizable Gotti as a bloated older man fighting terminal throat cancer in prison. The constant intermixing of varying eras is befuddling and matters aren’t helped by an over-abundance of chyrons identifying various minor characters who don’t play a major part in the goings-on.

The movie accurately portrays Gotti’s reputation in Queens as that of a folk hero among the local working class. His annual ad-hoc, unauthorized Fourth of July street fair and fireworks show involved dispensing free food and drinks to anyone who showed up. When the police tried to stop the extravaganzas, Gotti accused them of being unpatriotic and he was allowed to continue. This manipulation of the middle class was essential in maintaining his grass roots support. He wasn’t the first authoritarian figure to realize he could manipulate naïve people by tossing them some crumbs while obtaining significant ill-gotten gains for himself. He also wasn’t the first dictatorial personality to wrap himself in faux patriotism, and history has proven he wouldn’t be the last. One would think that working class people would resent a man who wore expensive suits and lived the high life, but the image of the swaggering, unapologetic narcissist only endeared him to his supporters. Where Gotti erred was in not following the tradition of the older mob bosses who kept a low profile, never gave interviews and avoided being photographed. Gotti couldn’t resist playing to his image and loved seeing his face on TV and in the New York tabloids. He also wasn’t a criminal mastermind. He continued to plot crimes at his inconspicuous “social club” despite knowing the place was thoroughly bugged by the FBI. He wasn’t a great judge of character and was ultimately the betrayals by some of his closest confidants such as Sammy “The Bull” Gravano that resulted in the “The Teflon Don”’s luck running out. His years of fame and fortune paled in comparison to his lonely, painful death in prison, largely estranged from his family.

BY ADRIAN SMITH 

Shameless has released the UK video debut of the 1978 cult film The Mountain of the Cannibal God as a Blu-ray special edition. (The film is also known as The Slave of the Cannibal God.) The plot is as follows: Susan Stevenson (Ursula Andress) and her brother Manolo (Claudio Cassinelli), unable to get help from the New Guinea authorities, hire former explorer Edward Foster (Stacy Keach) to help them find her husband. He went missing months ago in the jungle whist on a quest to reach the sacred mountain of Ra Ra Me. Susan clearly loves her husband and would do anything to get him back. Foster agrees to take them, despite the obvious difficulties ahead, not only from the dangerous animals, but also from the legendary cannibal tribe said to be lurking within the darkness of the jungle canopy. Along the way they find a cult-like village of local tribespeople watched over by Father Moses (Franco Fantasia) and Arthur Weisser (Antonio Marsina), who is also a jungle explorer. An affection seems to develop between Susan and Arthur, despite her supposed devotion to her lost husband, and after some trouble in the village when two locals are murdered by mysterious masked figures, they all set off together to find the mountain. Along the way they experience Herzogian levels of physical punishment as the game cast scramble down mountains, face an eight-metre-long snake, and, in one astonishing sequence, attempt to climb up a clearly deadly waterfall. It is a miracle that none of the cast were hospitalised.

Of course, the title of the film giving it away somewhat, the exhausted group eventually run into cannibals and all hell breaks loose. Susan discovers the fate of her husband and is stripped, tied up and oiled by the cannibals who then indulge in a frenzied orgy that would have made Caligula blush; even the livestock are not left out of the sexually-charged proceedings. This energetic display is just the primer however for a darker appetite which will soon be satisfied…

With Ursula Andress being surrounded by sex, nudity, graphic violence, real snakes and a devious dwarf, it is no wonder The Mountain of the Cannibal God has developed something of a reputation over the last forty years. The 1970s Italian cannibal films are notorious for their use of real onscreen animal killings, something which became popular as a result of Mondo Cane (1962) and its many sequels and rip-offs over the preceding decade. The directors have always claimed that these scenes were added at the insistence of financially-minded producers, and debates continue to rage amongst fans and scholars as to whether new releases of the films should still include the footage, or whether it should now be removed. In the UK this decision tends to be in the hands of the BBFC, where all films released have to conform to The Cinematograph Act of 1937. The Mountain of the Cannibal God originally included a scene of a monkey fighting a losing battle with a snake, as well as another snake fighting a bird of prey, and other assorted real-life animal slaughter, all of which no doubt contributed to its inclusion on the Video Nasties list in 1984. Two minutes of these scenes have now been removed for this new Blu-ray restoration, although not all animals get through the film unscathed; we still see a tarantula get impaled on a knife, a large lizard is gutted, skinned and eaten alive, and in one frenzied scene, dozens of green water snakes are grabbed and eaten by hungry cannibal tribesmen.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

In 1973, director William Friedkin adapted William Peter Blatty's bestselling novel "The Exorcist" for the screen. The film shocked the industry by becoming an international phenomenon and the movie's impact continues to resonate with audiences of all ages even today. In 2016 Friedkin decided to return to the subject of demonic possession by personally filming the rite of exorcism performed by a priest, Father Amorth, the Chief Exorcist of the Diocese of Rome. The result is his new documentary "The Devil and Father Amorth", which has enjoyed some limited art house screenings while simultaneously being released on DVD. Before we go any further, it is appropriate when covering a film of this type for the reviewer to state his/her personal beliefs or lack thereof in terms of the subject matter. After all, Friedkin does the same in his film, stating that he is predisposed to believe in the possibility of demonic possession. I'm not. Friedkin is clearly a man of religious faith. I'm not, having happily lived most of my life as an agnostic who keeps an open mind but who has never seen an inkling of evidence that a higher being presides over the universe. So there we are....with one additional caveat. Although I have never met William Friedkin, I have conducted two separate, extensive interviews with him for Cinema Retro regarding his films "Cruising" and "Sorcerer", both of which I believe were very underrated. Based on those interviews, I can say that I like Friedkin and greatly respect him as a filmmaker.

With those explanatory remarks out of the way, let's delve into "The Devil and Father Amorth". Friedkiin acts as an on camera host of the movie, which opens with some brief archival interviews with William Peter Blatty, who relates that he was a student at Georgetown University in 1949 when he read a remarkable account in the Washington Post about a 14 year-old boy who had undergone the rite of exorcism. Other respected news outlets picked up on the story and it became a sensation. Blatty was fascinated by the alleged  possession and hoped to write a non-fiction account of the incident. However, the priest who performed the exorcism refused to release the identity of the boy or his family and imposed upon him to respect their privacy. Blatty went the fictional route and turned the victim into a 12 year-old girl. The rest, as they say, is history- except that over the decades, the incident has been studied by skeptics who point out that there is scant evidence that the exorcism involved anything other than a boy who had a vivid imagination and that he may well have simply staged the incidents for those predisposed to believe in possession. (The boy's late aunt was a "spiritualist" who had influenced the boy's interest in the supernatural.) Whatever one thinks of the historical facts and theories, Blatty's book was a chilling page-turner and Friedkin's film version would motivate even the most headstrong skeptic to sleep with a nightlight on. Friedkin's documentary has some early scenes of him returning to actual locations from "The Exorcist". The action then shifts to Rome, where he introduces us to Father Amorth, then 91 years-old and proud of his position as Chief Exorcist, claiming to have performed the ritual thousands of times. Friedkin also interviews a woman who underwent the rite and who claims to have been saved by Father Amorth. Her brother, who went on to become Father Amorth's assistant, relates disturbing and fantastic accounts of his sister's alleged possession. Father Amorth gave Friedkin rare permission to film an actual exorcism on the provision that there would be no artificial lighting employed or any crew members present. Friedkin agreed to shoot the rite himself using just a small, hand-held camera.

The subject of the exorcism is Christina, a 46 year-old architect who has been bedeviled by what she claims are frequent instances in which she becomes possessed by a demon. She claims not to remember the occurrences but those who surround her relate that, when possessed, she speaks in strange languages, exhibits Herculean strength and shouts threats in a voice that is not her own. We learn that the exorcism Father Amorth is to perform will be the ninth time he has conducted the rite in relation to Christina. When we finally do get to observe what Friedkin is filming it certainly is disturbing. Christina is restrained by two men as she wriggles and resists their grip, all the while shouting insults at the priest in an unfamiliar voice. Unlike the famous scenes of the ritual depicted in "The Exorcist", the real-life exorcism is performed in front of a room full of people, presumably friends and relatives of the victim. We watch as Father Amorth doggedly remains fixated on reciting the religious phrases that are supposed to expel the demons. (At one point, the "possessed" Christina identifies herself as Satan.) The Friedkin footage seems relatively brief and he doesn't provide any context as to how much footage may have been edited out of the final cut. While the episode we witness is certainly "harrowing" (as Friedkin describes it) and the affected Christina is clearly suffering from severe disorder, there is nothing in the footage that is likely to convince skeptics that they have just seen proof of a supernatural event. There are no signs of superhuman strength and the admittedly frightening voice Christina speak in could clearly be her own, since every person on earth is able to significantly alter their manner of speaking. Furthermore, there is no context provided regarding whether Christina ever sought professional psychiatric help. Friedkin asks her if she did, but her answer is vague. She simply says that doctors can't cure her, leaving it ambiguous as to whether she ever underwent a psychiatric diagnosis. This is a pivotal point that is not pursued. If she did seek medical help, it would be imperative to interview her doctors. If she did not, then her affliction is one that is self-diagnosed. Friedkin interviews prestigious doctors in America to get their views of the case, having shown them the footage. They all give the answer that people of science would be expected to give: we can't explain it without having examined the patient. They profess to keep an open mind but none will go on record as endorsing the premise that demonic possession could really be behind the victim's affliction. At the end of the film, Friedkin himself stops short of stating for certain that he believes he has witnessed a supernatural event, but the implication is that he clearly thinks he has.

EVE GOLDBERG presents an in-depth examination of the only film Marlon Brando ever directed: "One-Eyed Jacks" (1961)

"ONE-EYED JACKS: AMERICA AT THE CROSSROADS"

A new movie schedule arrived every few months. A two-sided paper treasure chest brimming over with promises of time travel, existential wisdom, and singing in the rain. Wild Strawberries, City Lights, Battle of Algiers, Belle de Jour.

We grabbed up the schedule and studied it with care, taped it to the refrigerator door, marked our calendars. The African Queen, Yojimbo, Rules of the Game.

We made cinema voyages all over town — to the Vista in Hollywood, the Nuart in West LA, the art deco Fox Venice. Before VCRs, DVDs or streaming, revival movie theaters were about the only place a film junkie could get a fix. We might find an occasional nugget on late night TV, John Ford’s Stagecoach, perhaps, or Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but for the most part, it was the revival house or nowhere. Citizen Kane, La Dolce Vita, Alphaville.

There was rumor of a weird Western called One-Eyed Jacks, starring and directed by Marlon Brando. Nobody we knew had seen it. The movie took on the aura of myth. Was there really a scene where Brando gets whipped? What had the famously iconoclastic actor done with the time-worn clichés of the horse opera?

Finally, I think it was 1974, One-Eyed Jacks arrived. We trooped down to the Fox Venice, waited in a long line, found seats in the filled-to-capacity theatre, and settled in for the ride. We were not disappointed. From the opening shot — Brando casually eating a banana during a bank robbery — the film was like no Western we had ever seen. Moody, psychological, ambiguous, it was awash in sadomasochism, with a brooding Brando in nearly every scene. And yes, the actor gets his whipping in a scene of perverse cruelty which sears into memory.

Back in 1974, we knew we had seen an odd, strangely subversive, one-of-a-kind film. We didn’t know, however, that this quirky little revenge gem would someday be considered an important (if flawed) masterpiece of cinema, and a fascinating link between two eras in Hollywood…and America.

The Western is a quintessentially American film genre. From its earliest days, the cowboy drama was about good guys (white lawmen) confronting bad (Indians, outlaws). Each movie was a tale of expansionist dreams and masculine aggression. Each was a saga of civilization triumphing over savagery. The Western was, to quote film critic J. Hoberman, “the way America used to explain itself to itself.”

Edwin Porter’s 1903 film, The Great Train Robbery, was one of the first Westerns. This 12-minute story in which bandits rob a train, only to be pursued by a posse of lawmen, revolutionized the art of cinema. Porter used ground-breaking techniques such as cross-cutting and close-ups to create a suspenseful, compelling narrative. The basic elements of the genre were set.

The Western remains instantly recognizable across more than a century of evolving media and myth-making. Gunfights, holdups, and massacres. Horses, trains, rustlers, and barroom brawls. School-teachers, stampedes, and six-shooters.

The Golden Age of the Western is often considered to be the years 1946-1973. Following World War II, with the Cold War blazing hot on the beaches of Korea, the U.S. declared itself the new global sheriff in town. At home, the Eisenhower Era earned a reputation as being a time of complacency and consumerism. But these were also the McCarthy years, when right-wing witch hunts against political progressives were ruining lives and careers. And, at the same time, the seeds of change were taking root. A young civil rights movement began asking America: What the hell are the good guys who fought Hitler doing about racial discrimination and bigotry at home?

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Olive Films has released aa Blu-ray edition of the 1971 comedy Cold Turkey. Written and directed by Norman Lear, the fanciful plot is set in Eagle Rock, Iowa, a struggling small town of 4600 residents in Iowa that has fallen on hard times. The town is on the verge of financial catastrophe with most of the once-thriving businesses having moved away when a local air force base was closed. Potential salvation comes in the form of a contest sponsored by a major tobacco company to award $25 million to any town that can give up smoking for a period of 30 days. In fact, the offer is a mere ploy by a cynical tobacco executive, Merwyn Wren (Bob Newhart), who assures his bosses that the contest will improve the industry's reputation without ever incurring the prospect of having to pay off. That's because every person in the town would have to sign a pledge to not smoke for 30 days. A single offense would result in disqualification for the prize. What Wren doesn't count on is the determination of Eagle Rock minister Clayton Brooks (Dick Van Dyke), a disillusioned and depressed reverend who finds renewed vigor in his determination to see his town win the contest and revitalized itself with the prize money. Brooks goes on a one-man crusade to persuade the town's population to sign the petition- not an easy task because seemingly everyone has turned to smoking in order to cope with the stress of their financial hardships.

The film bares a resemblance to Norman Jewison's The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming! in that it centers on an a diverse number of small town eccentrics, all wonderfully played by a sterling cast of great character actors: Vincent Gardenia, Tom Poston, Jean Stapleton, Graham Jarvis and Judith Lowry among them. (The latter is as hilarious as ever, playing her typical ancient, foul-mouthed great granny character). There are also appearances by Edward Everett Horton as the senile tobacco company owner and the great team of Bob and Ray as thinly-veiled impersonations of legendary network anchors Walter Cronkite, Chet Huntley and David Brinkley who come to Eagle Rock when the town becomes the center of national news stories. Pippa Scott is very amusing as Van Dyke's long-suffering wife, who barely gets a word in due to the benevolent dictatorship he has established in their marriage. When the Reverend turns to sex as a substitute for smoking, Scott accommodates him with a bored demeanor and a pained look on her face. While most films that depict a rural population tend to go overboard in portraying them as cute and kind, Lear's film takes a more sarcastic tone. Initially, everyone gets along fine, but as pressure builds to meet the challenge, the townspeople turn on each other. The local doctor (Barnard Hughes) is especially targeted for attention due to his weak will and hopeless addiction to smoking. Graham Jarvis delivers a very funny performance as the nerdy local leader of a Tea Party-like political group that typically disdains "big government" until they decide "big government" can be profitable for them. Even the once-modest reverend gets swept up in his new-found fame as Eagle Rock swarms with tourists, many of whom are wearing masks of his likeness. As the town nears the final hours until the deadline, Merwin and the tobacco company brass invoke every dirty trick imaginable to ensure the prize money doesn't have to be paid. The madcap finale finds the town awash with a variety of individuals seeking to capitalize on the town's quest. Even President Nixon gets into the spotlight! 

Cold Turkey is a gentle comedy with an occasional sharp edge. It evokes memories of The Andy Griffith Show, but manages to make a statement about human traits that can be found everywhere: greed, deceit and selfishness. Van Dyke is excellent in the lead role and he benefits from a terrific supporting cast and a typically "hummable" title song by Randy Newman. I found the film itself to be quite addictive.

The Blu-ray release offers a very fine transfer, but sadly, no bonus extras.

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The Daily Mail and the web site Bored Panda present an interesting aspect to the design of movie posters. Many years ago, the nation of Ghana's political disruptions resulted in a shortage of professional printing presses. Thus, major motion pictures had to be marketed through hand-painted, custom-made posters created by local artists. The results, to put it kindly, were generally less-than-impressive. However, in a bizarre twist, these "so bad, they're good" posters have now become valuable collector's items, fetching up to $15,000 each. For more click here. (Images copyright Bored Panda).

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lorber, in conjunction with Redemption Films,  has released British crime flick "The Orchard End Murder" as a Blu-ray special edition. Never heard of it? Don't feel bad- neither had I, but the film's obscurity makes this release all the more interesting when one learns the story behind it. The film was shot in the lovely countryside in Kent in 1981 by writer/director Christian Marnham. With only a small budget to work with, Marnham had to restrict his running time to a mere 48 minutes, which precluded the movie from ever being shown as a main feature in theaters. Consequently, it plays out like a TV episode, albeit a very good one. The film opens with a young woman, Pauline (Tracy Hyde), making a phone date to meet up with Robins (Mark Hardy), a young man she met the previous night in a pub. Pauline is clearly a modern woman. She's attractive, dresses stylishly and wants some excitement and, presumably, sex. However, she is frustrated when Robins insists that she first accompany him to his local cricket match, where he is scheduled to play with his team. She becomes bored and decides to take a walk through a large apple orchard, emerging onto the street of a bucolic country village with a small train station. She stops to admire an attractive cottage with a large collection of garden gnomes. She is greeted by the owner (Bill Wallis), who happens to be the local station master. She accepts the kindly eccentric's invitation to come in for a cup of tea but things get disturbing with the abrupt arrival of his lodger, Ewan (Clive Mantle), a tall, mentally disturbed man who brutally slaughters a rabbit in front of Pauline without saying a word. Understandably, she cuts her visit short and walks back through the apple orchard to the cricket match. Along the way, she is intercepted by Ewan who now shows a kinder, more sensitive disposition. Tracy humors him by giving him a kiss but it proves to be a fatal mistake. He lures her deeper into the orchard and when she resists his sexual advances, he strips and strangles her. When evening falls,  Robins, informs the police she has gone missing and before long a major search is launched. The station master discovers the murder when he sees Ewan stroking and kissing Pauline's dead body. Knowing there will be a house-to-house search of the neighborhood, he puts into motion a plan to bury the body in an area the police have already searched.

"The Orchard End Murder" is a slick, well-made mini thriller that is very ably directed by Christian Marnham. Best of all are the performances, with every actor hitting the right note, including well-known character actor Raymond Adamson as a village businessman who may play a crucial role in solving the crime. It must be said that the scene-stealing performance is provided by Bill Walllis, who plays the frumpy station master with a disarming sense of friendliness and gentleness. Nothing riles him, including having to bury a nude woman in the dead of night. His attachment to Ewan is never quite explained, as to whether its based on a fraternal relationship or a sexual attraction. Tracy Hyde gives a brave performance, with much of her screen time being displayed and abused as a nude dead body.

There are several extras included pertaining to the film. Director Marhham gives a thorough review of its production history, stating that the film was released in 1981 as the second feature along with a major hit, "Dead and Buried". However, because second features didn't share in the theater revenues, everyone involved never saw any compensation beyond the pittance they were paid as a flat salary. There are also informative interviews with star Tracy Hyde, who was a flash-in-the-pan childhood star in the 1970s.  Sadly, adult stardom never followed and she retired from the industry. Also interviewed is David Wilkinson, who had a small part in the film before quitting acting and becoming a successful film producer. 

"The Orchard End Murder" is a remarkably accomplished work. It's a pity that a director as talented as Marnham didn't find greater success in the film industry.