By Hank Reineke

Technically speaking, OSS 117 secret agent Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath is not a James Bond knock off. The creation of wildly prolific French author Jean Bruce, the first literary adventure of the spy arrived in 1949 with the publication of Tu parles d'une ingénue (Ici OSS 117). This would pre-date the April 1953 publication of the first Ian Fleming James Bond novel, Casino Royale, by nearly four years. In the years following the publication of that first 007 thriller to his last in 1965, Fleming would deliver an impressive thirteen James Bond novels and nine short stories.

In contrast, Jean Bruce would publish no fewer (and possibly more) than eighty-eight to ninety OSS 117 pulp-adventures between 1949 and March of 1963, the month and year of his passing. It’s difficult to determine how many of Bruce’s novels were of his composition alone. His widow, Josette – and later a teaming of the Bruce’s son and daughter – would continue the pulp series into the early 1990s. So determined bibliophiles will have their work cut out for them if they wish to track down all of the 250+ published OSS 117 novels.

If OSS 117 beat James Bond to the stalls of book-sellers, he also managed to beat him to the cinema screen. Two OSS 117 films were released throughout Western Europe and foreign markets in 1957 and 1960: OSS 117 n'est pas mort (OSS 117 is not Dead) and Le bal des espions (Danger in the Middle East). The latter title, interestingly, does not feature “Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath.” Though based on one of Bruce’s OSS 117 novels, a messy rights-issue prevented the filmmakers to use the central character’s moniker. These earliest films, produced as routine crime dramas by differing production companies (and featuring different actors in the title role), came and went without attention nor fanfare.

But in 1963 Bruce’s OSS 117 character was resurrected as a cinematic property following the success of Terence’s Young’s Dr. No, the first James Bond screen adventure. The spy pictures comprising Kino Lorber’s OSS 117 Five Film Collection are tailored as pastiches of the popular James Bond adventures of the 1960s. This new Blu ray set features the entirety of OSS 117 film thrillers produced 1963 through 1968 during the height of Bondmania. And, just as the Eon series offered a trio of actors to portray James Bond (1962-1973), the OSS series would likewise present three in the role of Colonel Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath. Each actor would bring some aspect of their own personalities to their characterizations.

Of course, the name Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath is a bit of a Franco-linguistic mouthful to market successfully overseas. So, throughout the five films the character usually assumes an Anglo-friendly alias which helps move things along a bit more smoothly: he alternately assumes – among others - such covert surnames as Landon, Barton, Delcroix, Wilson and Mulligan. It certainly makes his character’s many “personal” on-screen introductions easier for all involved.

The Kino set starts off chronologically with 1963’s OSS 117 is Unleashed (original title OSS 117 se déchaîne). Like the four films to follow, the series were all Franco-Italia co-productions and distributed by Gaumont Films. Unlike those four, OSS 117 is Unleashed is filmed in black-and-white. The monochrome photography is not really an issue. But cinemagoers were certainly cheated of enjoying the beautiful beaches and Cliffside scenery of the village of Bonifacio (off the Corsican strait) in vibrant color.

In OSS 117 is Unleashed our hero (American actor Kerwin Mathews, best known to American audiences for his roles in Ray Harryhausen’s special-effect laden epics The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) and The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), is sent to Corsica to investigate the suspicious death of a fellow agent. We’re told, suspiciously, there’s been, “lots of accidents among agents near Bonifacio.” A preamble to the film, culled mostly of cold war era newsreel footage, alerts that an unspecified enemy is working towards “neutralizing” free-world atomic submarine movements in the area. With conspirators tagged with such names as “Sacha” and “Boris,” we can reasonably assume its east-of-the-Iron Curtain intelligence agents behind the plot.

Initially posing as a relative of the recently targeted and now deceased CIA frogman (and later as a Lloyds of London insurance adjustor), Mathews must dispatch and/or fend off a series of enemy agents and perhaps a duplicitous woman. In due course, he survives a poisoning, several (well-choreographed) hand-to-hand combat sequences and even a submerged spear-gun and knifing frogman attack. The latter occurs while he’s search of a mysterious submerged subterranean grotto. The base is outfitted (as one might expect) with high-tech equipment and a detection system designed to bring about “the end of atomic submarines.” The secreted grotto is also equipped with a built-in self-destruct button… always handy, just in case. This is all definitely Bond-on-a budget style filmmaking. Of course, the idea of covertly tracking atomic submarines movements brings to mind the storyline of the far-more-lavishly staged The Spy Who Loved Me (1977).

As far as I can determine, OSS 117 is Unleashed was never released theatrically in the U.S. But Mathews’ second (and final) outing as OSS 117, Panic in Bangkok (Banco à Bangkok pour OSS 117) (1964) would have a belated release in the U.S. (as Shadow of Evil) in December of 1966. Regardless, Shadow of Evil was not exhibited as a primary attraction in the U.S. market. It most often appeared as the under bill to Christopher Lee in The Brides of Fu Manchu or (more sensibly) to Montgomery Clift’s political suspense-thriller The Defector.

In Panic in Bangkok, Mathews is dispatched to Thailand to, once again, investigate the assassination of a fellow agent. The murdered CIA operative had been investigating a possible correlation between anti-cholera vaccines produced by Bangkok’s Hogby Laboratories to an outbreak of a deadly plague in India. The trail leads Mathews to suspect a certain mysterious Dr. Sinn (Robert Hossein) is somehow involved. Unlike the previous film which lacked a singular villain with a foreboding presence (ala Dr. No), the filmmakers offer cinemagoers a more exotic adversary in Dr. Sinn.

Edited by Stephen Jones

Illustrated by Randy Broecker

Published by Drugstore Indian Press (imprint of PS Publishing)

May 2023

512 pages

Paperback

ISBN: 9781786368997

RRP: £15.99

Review by Adrian Smith

If, like me, you love old movies, the chances are high that a love for the thrilling pulp magazines of the 1950s can’t be far behind. Robert Silverberg, now an award-winning science fiction author, was one of the most prolific writers (allegedly averaging around 1 million words a year) for dozens of magazines throughout that decade including Super-Science Fiction, Monster Parade, Fantastic and Monsters and Things, amongst many more. Capable of seemingly churning out stories in any genre he turned his hand to (including pornography when required), these short tales were designed to be read once and then forgotten once the next issue came along. Of course, what was once disposable is now highly sought-after and original copies of many of these short-lived magazines are out of reach to us mere mortals. Thankfully the almost equally prolific writer and editor Stephen Jones has compiled a representative sample of Silverberg’s horror and sci-fi stories published between 1957 and 1959 for this excellent new collection published by Drugstore Indian Press, accompanied by suitably retro illustrations from American artist Randy Broeker.

Most of the stories are just a few pages long, so no time is wasted before the thrills and chills set in. From premature burials, mad doctors, demons, werewolves, vampires and ghouls to aliens, global conspiracies, sinister cults and outer space adventures, the stories pack a pulp punch and are all very enjoyable, especially the ones with twist endings that would not be out of place in an episode of The Twilight Zone. With titles including ‘Secrets of the Torture Cult,’ ‘Beasts of Nightmare Horror’ and ‘Vampires from Outer Space’ (a precursor to Colin Wilson’s The Space Vampires perhaps?), Silverberg's imagination was extraordinary, producing a continual stream of stories, often published under pseudonyms so that it didn’t look like he’d written the entire magazine. In his introduction to this collection (he’s still with us, at the ripe old age of 89!), he discusses his early career and his need to keep the [were]wolf from the door by writing anything he could get paid for, and it was clearly good preparation for the highly-respected novels which would earn him fame later on.

Given the sheer number of short stories Silverberg produced, one can only hope that another collection from Drugstore Indian Press is on its way. These are really fun, pulpy stories that remind us of all of another era; when guys called Skip drove hot rods, when Big Jack hosted late-night talk shows about the occult on stations like WYXD, and when teenage librarians like Marty could accidentally raise the old gods using a stolen copy of the Necronomicon. Robert Silverberg’s Monsters and Things belongs on the shelf of any discerning 1950s nostalgia junkie.

Robert Silverberg’s Monsters and Things can be ordered from Amazon UK here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Monster-Things-Paperback-Robert-Sliverberg/dp/1786368994

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By Hank Reineke

Nicholas Anez’s Science Fiction Thrills… Horror Chills is the fourth installment of the author’s “Celluloid Adventures” series, all published by Baltimore’s Midnight Marquee Press. Although I’m not familiar with Anez’s original triad, I can reliably muse - based solely on the strength of his newest effort - the preceding trio are as well-researched, informative and against-the-grain-in-opinion as is this new volume.

In his introduction to Science Fiction Thrills, Anez – full disclosure, a contributing writer to Cinema Retro magazine - informs readers that his intent in the writing of this current book is to “hopefully create interest” in fourteen –mostly dismissed upon original release – sci-fi and horror films. These were films that, in one way or another, failed to find an appreciative audience despite creative merit. Being a guy from New Jersey, I can appreciate Anez’s fighting up from the mat for recognition of these underdog efforts, championing under-performing films he posits as overlooked cinematic treasures.

The fourteen films that go under Anez’s microscope are: Son of Dracula (1943), Alias Nick Beal (1949), The Maze (1953), Donovan’s Brain (1953), 1984 (1956), The Mind Benders (1963), Crack in the World (1965), The Mummy’s Shroud (1967), The Power (1968), Journey to the Far Side of the Sun (1969), The Groundstar Conspiracy (1972), Who? (1974), The Medusa Touch (1978) and Capricorn One (1978). The latter title, Peter Hyman’s “space mission” conspiracy film Capricorn One is, of course, an odd man out in this study. Though not critically praised on its release, the film actually performed reasonably well at the box office.

Each of Anez’s contributing essays are formulaic in presentation: an introductory paragraph or two; a multi-page synopsis of the film’s storyline; a discussion of the movie’s production history (including full cast and crew credits); a review of a film’s critical reception and subsequent box office performance. The book is filled with a score of illustrations – both photographs and promotional memorabilia - all well-reproduced in balanced black-and-white saturations. The book additionally closes with an eight-page Appendix where the author lists his favorite sci-fi and horror flicks - as well what he considers the greatest performances by an actor or actress in both genres. Suffice to say, I share many of the author’s cinematic enthusiasms.

To his credit, Anez doesn’t argue that any of the films under examination - in an extremely readable and cogent two-hundred and fifteen page paperback - is necessarily a “lost classic.” But Anez does suggest that each film studied here offers challenging ideas and (mostly) cerebral storylines. Some of the films, he argues, were critically maligned or were proven box office disappointments for economic reasons: that is, a shortfall of money. Too often the production budgets allotted were simply too modest to mount and support the project’s ambitions. Having said that, Anez also notes the paucity of money wasn’t always the reason a particular film did not light up the big screen as hoped. The author opines some of the films perhaps simply fell to the wayside due to the carping of critics (i.e. the alleged miscasting of Edmond O’Brien as “Winston Smith” or of Michael Andersons’ “unobstructive” direction of George Orwell’s novel 1984).

Other films, such as Basil Dearden’s The Mind Benders, might not have met expectations due to the filmmakers having chose to mix multiple genre devices into their storylines. Anez gives examples: The Mind Benders is described as being “as much a domestic drama as a thriller.” He offers John Farrow’s Alias Nick Beal as “a supernatural horror story,” but one that “also fits in the category of film noir.” The author also contends that Robert Siodmak’s Son of Dracula (a personal favorite of mine, featuring an arguably miscast corn-fed Lon Chaney Jr.) remains “a vastly underrated horror movie that is also a romantic tragedy.”

It soon becomes apparent that Anez’s argument that certain films failed at the box office - or with film critics – was not due to the quality of the films themselves. Instead many were perhaps doomed by visionary “outside-of-the-box” productions that were tough to commercially pigeonhole. Perhaps these films didn’t achieve nor enjoy a measure of acclaim due to the schematics of the filmmakers. It’s suggested such creative teams, at their own expense, had gambled on their film’s commercial potentials – perhaps accidentally, perhaps purposefully. Ultimately, they chose not to cater to clichés or to rigid formulas or to the expectations of their target audience.

In the book’s afterword, Anez notes he chose to focus on “an era in which science-fiction movies depended on ideas and not special effects,” a time when horror films conjured chills “upon the power of suggestion and not graphic gore.” Reading through these essays it becomes obvious that Anez is a strong champion of scenarios that feature solid writing and cerebral storytelling. It’s of interest that of the fourteen films examined here, no fewer than eight had been adapted from pre-existing science-fiction novels or other literary sources published from the 1940s through the 1970s.

Anez acknowledges that some of these films under his microscope might now appear dated - even open to some ridicule by contemporary standards - for their dopey, unsophisticated poor-science-based projections. He muses other films might have been doomed at the box office by their gloomy, paranoid prognostications of a dreary, dystopic future. (Certainly none of the films Anez examines here can be thought of as “feel good” movies – quite the opposite, in fact). Such dystopic melancholia is reflected in Anez’s own opinions. He writes of his fear that contemporary exercises of political correctness and encroaching Orwellian cancel culture movements might yet alter - even expunge – aging artistic works and forms of “popular culture from the past.” “In today’s Hollywood,” Anez sighs, “nothing is implied anymore; everything is explicit.”

I’m probably not as fatalistic as Anez on some of the points he makes, though one can certainly understand – and even sympathize with – some of the arguments he makes. But by my reckoning, home video has - from inception - assured that a majority of cultural artifacts will survive in their original forms for some time well into the future. Certainly books and films and music reflective of the aggrieved historical period in which they were created will survive in their original state. How could they not? There’s too many of us who have carefully collected and curated these artworks to see them suddenly made unavailable. But it is also true that many of these works might – might - need to co-exist alongside a bowdlerized version for generations to come.

The real question is whether or not our shared histories – good, bad, tragic, celebratory or indifferent - can be erased easily? The jury is out on that point, and the debate on the historical revisionism of culture, I imagine, will be argued long into the future. It’s of interest that many of the future-looking films that Anez studies in Science Fiction Thrills… Horror Chills cautions and forewarns against the censorship of free ideas - be those ideas well-meaning, ignorant, brilliant or otherwise. I was going to end this review with Shakespeare’s famously reflective and internal ponder on the duality of intentions, “Ay, there’s the rub.” But I admit I almost didn’t, perhaps employing a bit of guarded self-censorship. After all, Shakespeare, the “immortal bard” of Avon, might not prove so immortal after all. He too is now a target of cancel culture.

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By Nicholas Anez

The incentive for this 4^th volume in my Celluloid Adventures series was a dismissive review in a reference book of the 1956 film version of George Orwell’s novel, 1984, calling it “a great disappointment and a lackluster adaptation of the briliant novel.” This derogatory opinion remains the general consensus among many critics. I disagree with this assessment, in part

because the movie remained in my memory long after I first saw it. Furthermore, I had read the novel so I knew that, though the adaptation was definitely a loose one, it was actually faithful to Orwell’s ideas. So I wanted to redress this negative opinion of the movie and proceeded to write about it. This led to my considering other movies in the science fiction and horror genres that, I believe, are also underrated. Thus was born the concept for Celluloid Adventures 4: Science Fiction Thrills….Horror Chills.

I should state at this point that I became a fan of science fiction and horror movies in my adolescence. I also loved Westerns (Shane is my all-time favorite movie) and it has always upset me when a good movie, particularly in my favorite genres, fails at the box-office. Thus, my objective in the first three volumes was to bring overdue attention to some of these movies. In these books, I discuss films within several genres while I devote individual chapters to science fiction and/or horror movies. For this fourth book, I decided to focus only on science fiction and horror because the ascendancy of these genres that began with Star Wars (1977) and The Exorcist (1973) relegated to relative obscurity many fine movies that preceded this dominance along with a few that followed. And it is some of these films that I wanted to retrieve from anonymity for this book. (Not coincidentally, my devotion to the genres more or less ended in the late 70s, coinciding with this ascendancy, but that’s another story.)

It was very rewarding for me to research the movies in Celluloid Adventures 4 because I discovered numerous interesting details about their development and production that I hope will make this book equally interesting. For instance, here are just a few of the many intriguing facts that I learned:

The director of one movie fired his own brother who had written the screenplay.

One movie is based upon a legend of the birth of a deformed monster.

One movie was made by a married couple that later engaged in an acrimonious divorce.

One movie failed upon its original release but played to enthusiastic audiences in New York

and Los Angeles 65 years later.

The screenplay for one movie is based upon actual inhumane experiments conducted in

prestigious universities.

The producer of one movie was forced to cast the actor who starred in it.

The director of one movie considers it among his worst.

One serious movie suffered because its studio promoted it as an exploitation movie.

The 14 movies that I highlight cover a period of three and one-half decades, from 1943 to 1978, and I would speculate that the average moviegoer today has not heard of most of them. With one exception, they were financial failures or disappointments, a fact that contributes to their obscurity. However, I believe that they still deserve the recognition and praise that they did not receive upon their original release. In my estimation, these are all excellent films but yet most of them did not attract wide audiences.

These movies include a wide variety of subjects. In Son of Dracula (1943), the main character is a woman who is not only eager to die but is also willing to kill the man that loves her. In Alias Nick Beal (1949), Lucifer is determined to condemn an innocent man him to eternal suffering. Both The Power (1968) and The Medusa Touch (1978) portray men with superior brains that have the capability to either save or destroy the entire world. One of them will choose destruction because he hates humanity with a passion.

Very few people have heard of the movie, Who? (1974), and those who have heard of it were probably confused by the title. And yet it is a poignant story of an altruistic man who is victimized by futuristic technology. The protagonist of The Groundstar Conspiracy (1972) also endures tremendous suffering from another type of futuristic technology. The future of the aforementioned 1984 (1956) is extremely frightening because it depicts a world in which a sweet-looking child will betray her own father to be tortured and perhaps killed.

I am hoping that this book will encourage people, including some of you who are reading this, to view these movies. They are all entertaining and, in some respects, provocative. For instance, after seeing The Maze (1953), you might actually sympathize with a monstrous amphibian. If you believe that a brain is lifeless once it is removed from its body, Donovan’s Brain (1953) may change your mind. You might also discover how fragile our brains are after viewing The Mind Benders (1963), a story about the cruelty of pitiless scientists. If you view Crack in the World (1965), you will witness how the earth is almost destroyed by a scientist with abundant hubris. Upon viewing Journey to the far Side of the Sun (1969), you will witness a benevolent scientist lose his sanity because of his extraordinary discovery.

There are moments of pure excitement and suspense as well as pure terror in these movies. Viewers of Capricorn One (1977) will inevitably break out in ecstatic applause at the sight of a rickety biplane suddenly appearing on an isolated desert road. This is the only movie among the 14 in this book that was a success – with the public if not the critics. In contrast, The Mummy’s Shroud (1967) played the bottom-of-the-bill of double features and was unnoticed upon its release. But I believe it deserves some kind of awareness.

So I hope that I have piqued your curiosity enough to encourage you to read about the making of these movies. But even if you choose not to buy the book, for your own safety, I implore you to please heed this warning: Beware the beat of the cloth-wrapped feet!

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Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Paramount:

Hailed as “the biggest and best action movie of the year” (Screen Rant), the edge-of-your-seat, non-stop thrill ride MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE—DEAD RECKONING Part One becomes available to buy on Digital for fans to watch at home starting October 10, 2023.  The blockbuster hit will debut on 4K Ultra HD SteelBook^™, 4K Ultra HD, Blu-ray™, and DVD on October 31^st.

“Tom Cruise is at the top of his game” in “the best ‘Mission’ ever” (KTLA-TV) that’s loaded with “next level action and thrills” (Entertainment Weekly).  Certified Fresh with a stellar 96% critic score^* on Rotten Tomatoes,® MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE—DEAD RECKONING Part One received widespread acclaim and a coveted “A” CinemaScore from fans.

Fans who purchase the film on Digital can go deeper into the mission with extensive, action-packed bonus content.  Get an inside look at how Tom Cruise and the filmmaking team pulled off multiple breathtaking stunts, go behind-the-scenes of the exotic filming locations, delve into spectacular footage not seen in theatres, learn about the intricacies of the filmmaking process with director Christopher McQuarrie and editor Eddie Hamilton, and more!  Bonus content is detailed below:

• Commentary by director Christopher McQuarrie and editor Eddie Hamilton—McQuarrie and Hamilton take viewers through each compelling scene with in-depth commentary.

• Abu Dhabi—Explore the exotic filming locations in the desert and at the international airport and discover how each thrilling sequence was shot.

• Rome—Take a behind-the-scenes look at the thrilling car chase through Italy's historic capital, as Tom Cruise's driving skills are pushed to the limit while handcuffed to Hayley Atwell!

• Venice—See the breathtaking city of Venice as it's never been shown on film.  Plus, witness the cast's dedication and commitment to their training as they prepare to get "Mission Ready."

• Freefall—An extended behind-the-scenes look at one of the biggest stunts in cinema history.  Watch never-before-seen footage of the rigorous training as Tom launches a motorcycle off a cliff.

• Speed Flying—Join Tom and the crew as they explain the various training techniques involved in pulling off the dangerous speed flying stunts in the film.

• Train—See how the climactic train sequence was captured on film.  From building an actual train from scratch to crashing it using practical effects, you don't want to miss this!

• Deleted Shots Montage—Director Christopher McQuarrie and editor Eddie Hamilton share some of the breathtaking, never-before-seen footage that didn't make the final film.

• Editorial Featurette: The Sevastopol—Director Christopher McQuarrie and editor Eddie Hamilton take viewers through the intense opening scene.

Synopsis

Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) and his IMF team embark on their most dangerous mission yet: To track down a terrifying new weapon that threatens all of humanity before it falls into the wrong hands. With the fate of the world at stake, a deadly race around the globe begins. Confronted by a mysterious, all-powerful enemy, Ethan is forced to consider that nothing can matter more than his mission - not even the lives of those he cares about most.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE—DEAD RECKONING Part One is rated PG-13 for intense sequences of violence and action, some language and suggestive material.

PARAMOUNT PICTURES and SKYDANCE Present

A TOM CRUISE Production TOM CRUISE “MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE - DEAD RECKONING PART ONE”

HAYLEY ATWELL VING RHAMES SIMON PEGG REBECCA FERGUSON VANESSA KIRBY

and HENRY CZERNY Casting by MINDY MARIN, CSA

Music by LORNE BALFE Costume Designer JILL TAYLOR Film Editor EDDIE HAMILTON, ACE

Production Designer GARY FREEMAN Director of Photography FRASER TAGGART

Executive Producers DAVID ELLISON DANA GOLDBERG DON GRANGER

TOMMY GORMLEY CHRIS BROCK SUSAN E. NOVICK

Produced by TOM CRUISE CHRISTOPHER McQUARRIE

Based on the Television Series Created by BRUCE GELLER

Written by CHRISTOPHER McQUARRIE & ERIK JENDRESEN

Directed by CHRISTOPHER McQUARRIE

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By Hank Reineke

We film collectors are a spoiled lot: and, yes, I include myself in that assessment. When Australian video label Imprint first announced their seminal Silver Screams Cinema collection in 2021, I was ecstatic. Though the now defunct U.S. based Olive Films had already given us Blu-rays of three titles soon-to-be featured on the Imprint set (Return of the Ape Man (Monogram, 1944) She Devil (1957) and The Vampire’s Ghost (Republic, 1945), it was the Aussie’s inclusion of several long-neglected films from the vault of Republic Pictures - Valley of the Zombies (1946), The Phantom Speaks (1945) and The Lady and the Monster (1944) - that compelled one to pre-order.

The Imprint set contained almost every title a fan of Republic’s horror-mystery offerings might desire… with one notable exception. Where was Lesley Selander’s The Catman of Paris (1946)? It was the one Republic horror flick I had been wishing on the longest. Decades ago I gave up hope of ever seeing any sort of legitimate home video issue. So I sought out the serviceable – if scratchy and hazy - gray-market bootleg long making the rounds on the collector’s market. So the exclusion of The Catman of Paris from Imprint’s otherwise magnificent Silver Screams set was a bit frustrating.

So it was with great anticipation when Imprint’s single-disc Blu-ray of The Catman of Paris recently arrived. I’m pleased to report that the release not only looks great but also arrives with a couple of bonus features. But while this film’s arrival on Blu-ray brings with it a satisfying sense of closure, I think it’s best to acknowledge that The Catman of Paris is by no means a riveting lost classic of horror cinema. Though the film holds a certain charm in my personal nostalgia bank, The Catman of Paris often plods along for most of its hour or so running time. But I’m still a fan.

Republic Pictures was, of course - unfairly, in my mind – deemed a Hollywood “Poverty Row” studio. But the production values of the studio were often of high-caliber despite meager budgets, the studio producing more than a thousand features and serials from its inception in 1935. Though associated with Monogram Pictures – a purveyor of a number of 1940s low-rent horror and mystery pictures (which often featured the likes of genre stars Bela Lugosi, George Zucco, Lionel Atwill and John Carradine), Republic was late in getting on the exploitative horror-film train. I suppose it can be argued that they nearly missed the train entirely. The studio only really began to test the horror-picture market when public interest in such fare was clearly on the wane.

But the studio’s first horror pic The Lady and the Monster (1944), featuring Erich von Stroheim as a cold and humorless mad scientist, did well enough for the studio to greenlight a double-dose of new horror in 1945: The Vampire’s Ghost and The Phantom Speaks – two films which we’ll get to in a moment. Generally speaking, the Republic horrors were of similar construct to Monogram’s. But unlike the Monogram films – which have been mostly available over the years on home video due to their public domain status – the Republic horror pics have been, until recently, almost entirely commercially inaccessible to students of the genre.

It’s possible the Republic horror pics have been glossed over due to the fact that, unlike the studio’s western film counterparts – which featured such star-spangled stars as Gene Autry, Roy Rogers and John Wayne – their horror pics offered no similar marquee attraction. Perhaps if the Republic horror and mysteries features offered such boogeymen as Lugosi or Boris Karloff there might have been more of a commercial interest in getting these out to fans and collectors. But Paramount Pictures, the company that ultimately absorbed the Republic catalog, seemed mostly disinterested in making available that studio’s horror film efforts.

To be fair, Republic wasn’t Universal: there actually wasn’t a great deal of true “horrors” to choose from. In 1999, film historian Tom Weaver examined some of the Republic titles in his tome Poverty Row Horrors!: Monogram, PRC, and Republic Horror Films of the Forties (MacFarland). A decade- and -a -half later author Brian McFadden published his Republic Horrors: The Serial Studio’s Chillers. Both books were welcome additions to the film scholar’s personal libraries. But while McFadden’s effort seemed to promise a deeper-dive into the Republic’s long-neglected horror catalog, it mostly reminded readers that the studio actually released very few true horror pictures during the Golden Age of the 1940s. Of the ten films chosen for examination by McFadden, only five could justify being classified as genuine “horrors.” The remaining five titles selected were simply mysteries with woven eerie elements.

But if Universal’s reign as the preeminent horror-movie studio was beginning to wind down by the mid-1940s, Republic’s was just beginning to rev up. In early May of 1945, the Los Angeles Times reported that executives at Republic Pictures, “encouraged by the current success of The Vampire’s Ghost and The Phantom Speaks,” were already planning a pair of thrillers of similar design. Under the watchful eye of producer William O’ Sullivan, Republic’s newest horror pics, titled The Catman of Paris and The Valley of the Zombies, was to “be sold to exhibitors as a pair.”

Associate producer Marek M. Libkov told the Hollywood Reporter that their newest, The Catman of Paris, would have a provisional start date of September 20, 1945 with casting to “start immediately.” In fact, most of the principal casting was already in place by early September, though casting notices for small roles were still being announced as late as October 5. It was also later reported that the film’s start date would be pushed to September 22. The film’s presumed co-feature – Phil Ford’s Valley of the Zombies – was already just shy of two weeks into production with production on The Catman of Paris set to follow immediately on its heels. But even the revised start date of September 22 is in doubt. On September 24, 1945, the Los Angeles Times noted production on Lesley Selander’s The Catman of Paris was, at long last, to start “today at Republic.”

It’s of some interest that the two primary cast members of The Catman of Paris, Carl Esmond and Lenore Aubert, were both born in Vienna, Austria. Though neither had ever appeared in a horror film, both already would share near-miss flirtations with real-life horrors. Esmond left for the U.S. as early as 1938 at the behest of MGM’s Louis B. Mayer. The actor had been performing with a touring company in London when Nazi troops swept into Austria in March of 1938. Esmond reflected to Hollywood scribe Maxine Garrison that Mayer dangled an MGM contract before him, warning ‘You would be foolish not to come [to America]. Europe will be lost in war before long.” Esmond admitted, “I had not thought of it that way, but he was right.”

Aubert too left Vienna, choosing travel to Paris. But with German troops already occupying the City of Light, the actress also made the decision to immigrate to America. (Ironically, Aubert’s first screen credit was for a performance as a villainous Nazi spy for Samuel Goldwyn’s They Got Me Covered (1943), an early Bob Hope and Dorothy Lamour comedy). Though not a household name to most cinephiles, the darkly beautiful Aubert is likely best remembered for her performance as the sinister Dr. Mornay in the time-tested Universal classic Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948).

The Hollywood trades were reporting a lot of activity on the Republic Studios lot that first week of October of 1945… but most interest was fixed on producer-director Frank Borsage’s ambitious and expensive Technicolor effort Concerto. But a wandering journalist noted that only “two stages away,” Republic’s dual monochrome horror pics, The Catman of Paris and Valley of the Zombies, were being shot concurrently for a provisional double-feature release. “On both sets, the visitor must have nerves of steel,” it was reported, “to withstand sudden appearances of perambulating cat people and corpses.”

By Thursday, October 11, 1945, the Hollywood Reporter noted that production on The Catman of Paris had wrapped on the night previous, when “final exterior scenes were filmed on the studio’s back lot.” The report also indicated that co-feature Valley of the Zombies had finished shooting a mere “one day before Republic started rolling Selander’s picture.” If true, the earlier reportage of dual-picture sightings of “perambulating cat people and corpses” was little more than promotional ballyhoo.

So who was this sinister cinematic Catman of Paris? Parisian police detectives are of the belief that it’s none other than the best-selling, dashingly handsome French novelist Charles Regnier (Carl Esmond). The popular-selling author has recently returned to Paris following two years of international travel – including a possibly fateful visit to the tropics. Not everyone has enjoyed his most recent book. Regnier’s fiction-novel Fraudulent Justice has come to the attention – and annoyance – of the French government. It seems Regnier’s narrative appears to have been based on a true-life crime and trial: the details of which were never brought to public scrutiny and the judicial outcome now thought a travesty of justice. So how was it that Regnier could accurately account so much about a secretive government trial?

Regnier has also returned to Paris to wrestle other demons. The writer suffers headaches which bring about unexplainable subsequent episodes of amnesia. During such sessions Regnier is visited by images of violent weather disturbances and of a mysterious black cat. Regnier’s moneyed patron, Henri Borchard (Douglas Dumbrille), suggests Regnier’s fragile mental state is due to his having contracted some sort of fever when visiting the tropics. There’s also a measure of astrological hokum in the scripting mix as well.

Both Bouchard and Regnier’s publisher Paul Audet (Francis Pierlot) are concerned that following two gruesome murders of which Regnier is at least tangentially involved, the author’s book sales might plummet and bankrupt the publishing house. And circumstantial evidence of Regnier’s involvement in the murders continues to mount. The Catman’s most recent victim - Regnier’s high-society fiancé Marguerite Duvall (Adele Mara), was recently jilted so the author might enjoy a new romance with publisher’s daughter Marie (Lenore Aubert). Having completely fallen for the dashing author, Marie Audet is completely convinced of Regnier’s innocence… until she herself is chased through a misty evening garden by a cloak and top-hatted Catman on the prowl for her blood.

Though the film would eventually pair with Valley of the Zombies, The Catman of Paris was initially paired on release with John English’s somewhat better-received ice-skating musical-mystery Murder in the Music Hall. The first wave of reviews of The Catman of Paris were generally fair - if mostly unfavorable. The Hollywood Reporter ignobly described the film as an “absurdity,” a career embarrassments to all involved. The lugubrious screenplay of Republic scenarist Sherman L. Lowe was decried as far too “wordy… every character uttering editorials instead of dialog.”

There were complaints – also not unfair - that the film displayed a curious lack of “physical action.” Variety was a bit more forgiving in its assessment, calling the Valentine’s Day preview of The Catman of Paris “a cross between a garden-variety whodunit and a Jekyll-Hyde horror-meller […] that taxes belief to the breaking point.” The Christian Science Monitor dismissed the film outright as a “routine horror story based on far-fetched thrills.”

Despite the lukewarm reviews of both Murder in the Music Hall and The Catman of Paris, the package managed a successful earning of $35,000 in its first week. Which, at the very least, guaranteed a second week of booking. Republic, presumptively optimistic and encouraged by strong initial returns, inked producer Libkov to a contract of three additional pictures. Though there was the inevitable revenue fall-off in the second week of release, the trades were reporting box office tallies in and around Los Angeles remained “good” if not showing signs of sustained momentum. But by week three, the box office receipts were down to disappointing four figure earnings. As the Catman creeped regionally across the U.S. through autumn of 1946, local reviewers and small-town theater managers found the film a mild mystery offering at best. Subsequently, four-figure weekly returns were now the norm.

Anna May Wong has been commemorated with a three-film box set from Kino Lorber. Wong was a popular presence on the silver screen in an era in which most Asian screen characters were played by non-Asians. Here is the breakdown of information about the the Blu-ray set that coincidentally features Anthony Quinn in all three movies.

This collection features three Hollywood classics from the 1930s starring screen icon Anna May Wong.

DANGEROUS TO KNOW (1938)

Screen legend Anna May Wong (Picadilly) reprises her acclaimed Broadway role in this romantic crime drama from the pen of Edgar Wallace (Chamber of Horrors). Racketeer Steve Recka (Akim Tamiroff, The General Died at Dawn) rules his town and the sultry, silk-gowned Madam Lan Ying (Wong) with an iron hand. But when he falls for the enchanting Margaret Van Kase (Gail Patrick, Death Takes a Holiday), a socialite not impressed by his power nor his wealth, he makes frantic efforts to win her and turns his back on the loyal Lan Ying. Dangerous to Know comes elegantly directed by Robert Florey (The Crooked Way) with the sparkling supporting cast of Lloyd Nolan (Portrait in Black), Harvey Stephens (The Cheat), Roscoe Karns (Night After Night), Porter Hall (Murder, He Says), Hedda Hopper (Little Man, What Now?), Ellen Drew (If I Were King) and Anthony Quinn (The Ghost Breakers).

ISLAND OF LOST MEN (1939) – Screen legend Anna May Wong (Daughter of Shanghai) clashes with J. Carrol Naish (Sahara) in this rousing remake of 1933’s Carole Lombard/Charles Laughton starrer White Woman. Cabaret singer Kim Ling (Wong), the daughter of a Chinese general who has been accused of absconding with government funds, arrives in the Straits Settlements. There she meets Gregory Prin (Naish), a half-caste gunrunner and head of a jungle empire where he treats the Malaysians ruthlessly. She agrees to accompany him in search of her father, as she has several reasons to believe Prin is responsible for the general’s disappearance. Directed by Kurt Neumann (The Secret of the Blue Room, The Fly) and co-starring Anthony Quinn (Road to Singapore), Eric Blore (Road to Zanzibar), Broderick Crawford (Seven Sinners) and Ernest Truex (His Girl Friday), Island of Lost Men is a torrid mix of thrills, mystery and adventure.

KING OF CHINATOWN (1939) – Screen legend Anna May Wong (Shanghai Express) co-stars with the “czar of a city of sin,” Akim Tamiroff (Desire), in the ripping crime yarn King of Chinatown. Violence and death stalk the Chinese faction of a big American city, but one man, Dr. Chang Ling (Sidney Toler, Shadows Over Chinatown), and his daughter, Dr. Mary Ling (Wong), defy the gangsters who are responsible, and, against terrific odds, bring peace to their oppressed neighbors. Wong gives a powerful and pioneering performance as a respected surgeon faced with a shocking moral dilemma. Directed by Nick Grinde (Million Dollar Legs), shot by Leo Tover (The Day the Earth Stood Still) and featuring J. Carrol Naish (Beau Geste), Philip Ahn (China), Anthony Quinn (The Last Train from Madrid), Bernadene Hayes (Dick Tracy’s Dilemma) and Roscoe Karns (It Happened One Night).

Product Extras :
Brand New 4K and 2K Masters
NEW Audio Commentary for DANGEROUS TO KNOW by Film Historian Samm Deighan
NEW Audio Commentary for ISLAND OF LOST MEN by Entertainment Journalist/Author Bryan Reesman and Max Evry
NEW Audio Commentary for KING OF CHINATOWN by Film Historian David Del Valle and Archivist/Film Historian Stan Shaffer
King of Chinatown Theatrical Trailer (Nitrate Restoration in 4K)

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By Hank Reineke

This Kino Lorber 4K Restoration Blu ray of Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame is likely as good as we’re going to get. Universal Studio’s official 1923 program heralded Hunchback as Hugo’s “Mighty Epic of a Mighty Epoch” and, truth be told, director Wallace Worsley’s film never delivers less than promised. It is, above all, a spectacle. In August of 1922 when announced Universal-Jewel was to begin lensing the film, newspapers reported it had been Lon Chaney’s “life’s ambition” to bring Hugo’s tale – and the story of the novel’s titular tortured soul Quasimodo - to the big screen.

Chaney’s Hunchback would not be the first cinematic adaptation of the famed 1831 novel. Esmeralda, a ten-minute long French adaptation was brought to the screen as early as in 1905. Albert Capellani’s 1911 French silent (Notre-Dame de Paris) would also precede the Universal version, but that film too was a modest production running a mere twenty-six minutes in length. The first feature length-effort was Fox’s romantic The Darling of Paris (1917) featuring silent-screen-siren Theda Bara. A British version of 1922 preceded Chaney’s by only a year – though, again, only as a short of some thirteen minutes. All but the 1911 version are now presumed lost.

If Universal was not the first to bring the epic to the screen, producer and studio co-founder Carl Laemmle promised a production unmatched in size and scope. Universal would front a budget of some $1,250,000, bringing in some 2800 artisans to work on the film’s massive sets. The centerpiece was to be the cathedral of Notre Dame, built practically to scale. Universal promised, “The cathedral at Notre Dame is an exact replica in every infinite detail of the cathedral as it looked in 1482, an extraordinary feat and an archeologic, historical and technical triumph.”

Such an ambitious project was going to require an ambitious production team. In October of 1922, gossips whispered the studio was “anxious to have D.W. Griffith direct” Hunchback. On the surface, Griffith would seem a natural choice. He had, after all, helmed such pictures as Birth of a Nation (1915) and Intolerance (1916), both showcase spectacles of large scale and huge casts. In the end, Universal would announce, January 1923, that Worsley would direct – with assists by “ten assistant directors and twenty-eight field captains.” Worsley and Chaney already had a good working relationship: the two having already combined their talents on The Penalty, The Ace of Hearts and The Blind Bargain. This new collaboration would spend six months in pre-production and one year in filming.

Everything was crafted bigger-than-life. The make-up appliances for Quasimodo, the film’s monstrous bell-ringer, were painstakingly crafted by Chaney in a series of three-and-a-half hour sessions. The September 1923 issue of Pictures and Picturegoer magazine enthused Chaney had promised “something even more startling than usual in the way of make-up.” Alongside that of Erik, The Phantom of the Opera (1925), the twisted and feral Quasimodo remains the most iconic example of Chaney’s make-up artistry.

Biographer Michael F. Blake’s Lon Chaney: The Man Behind the Thousand Faces (Vestal Press, 1990) and A Thousand Faces: Lon Chaney’s Unique Artistry in Motion Pictures (Vestal Press, 1995) remain the two most essential reference books on the man and his films, but they weren’t the first. There were earlier “serious” circulating books on the actor: Robert G. Anderson’s Faces, Forms Films: The Artistry of Lon Chaney (1971) came first, N.L. Ross’s Lon Chaney: Master Craftsman of Make Believe following more than a decade later. That said, Blake’s sister volumes remain the most reliable and error free sources of Chaney marginalia. Blake occasionally proffers stern judgements, some fair and some maybe not so, on preceding Chaney biographers, but all books mentioned above are worthwhile reads and contain excellent bibliographies.

Blake opens his 1995 study with the declaration “Lon Chaney was not a “horror actor.” Though this is essentially true, Blake – who contributes seven pages of booklet notes to this new Kino Blu – sighs the actor’s association with the horror genre is terribly overblown. He argues this mistaken union was due to the actor’s famous ghastly make-up creations. It’s doubtful the audience of eleven and twelve year-olds who sought out these cheap newsprint monster movie magazines of the 1950s and ‘60s had actually ever saw a Lon Chaney silent film. But the reproduced published stills would fire imaginations, giving Chaney Sr. instant cult status as a “horror film” icon. At the very least, I think it’s fair to say that the genre mags were instrumental in keeping Chaney’s legend alive at a time when few other outlets were interested.

It was that way for me at least. I’m not sure when I first learned the name “Lon Chaney.” But it was likely through photographs or an article in the pages of Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine. I had become obsessed with Famous Monsters when chancing upon a used copy of their May 1967 issue at a school “white elephant” sale. The magazine sent me scouring the listings in TV Guide in search of the films I was first introduced to in the pages of “FM.” It was through Famous Monsters I was first introduced to silent films – many of which I find even today to be as fascinating as any talkie.

In trying to learn about silent films, I discovered Daniel Blum’s A Pictorial History of the Silent Screen (1974) at my local library. It was an oversize hardcover held in the reference section. Since I couldn’t bring it home to read at leisure, I spent hours in the library looking through the hundreds – maybe thousands of stills – reproduced therein. My knowledge of and interest in film history really began there. While combing through the pages for Chaney info (there wasn’t a lot, if I recall), I discovered Chaplin, Keaton, Pearl White, Fatty Arbuckle, the Keystone Cops and hundreds of others.

It was around this time I also managed to catch Robert Youngson’s affectionate silent-era doc Days of Thrills and Laughter on television. As with Blum’s book, I don’t believe Chaney, again to my great disappointment, was even mentioned in the doc. Youngson’s emphasis was mostly on the slapstick comedy of Charlie Chaplin, “Fatty” Arbuckle,” Snub Pollard and Ben Turpin. Though a rare, brief clip of Boris Karloff in King of the Congo (1929) further fueled my interest in early cinema, Chaney – frustratingly – would remain a man of mystery.

Knowing what I know now, the notoriously private and reclusive actor – non-ceremoniously interred following his passing, age forty-seven, in a Glendale sepulcher – would have likely preferred it that way. At age nine I finally had the opportunity to catch Chaney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame on WNET-13, Manhattan’s PBS-TV affiliate. Hunchback was the last title to be featured on the network’s “The Silent Years” series (each segment introduced by Orson Welles) in September of 1971.

OK, I apologize. I have digressed. I will also confess it’s taken me quite some time to finally getting around to view this Kino issue of Hunchback. I was gifted a copy back in the autumn of 2021 but chose to put the Blu-ray aside – for the time being, anyway. I had already planned to attend a genuine film element screening of Hunchback at a local cinema that October, one complete with live organ accompaniment. That night, sadly, proved to be a projection booth disaster. The theater ran the last two reels in reverse so inter-titles appeared Cyrillic and completely unreadable. God bless Ben Model, the silent film historian/organist accompanying the program. He calmly and expertly navigated through this maelstrom with amazing poise and finesse, salvaging what would have been otherwise a completely disastrous evening.

There’s no point in discussing here the plot of Worsley’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It’s a more-or-less faithful rendering of the Hugo novel. This is a century old film, one I find as entertaining today as it was a hundred years ago. Yes, the acting often is – as was the order of the day – visually exaggerated and overly emotive, but the story remains a compelling one. The scenario really revolves around Esmeralda, the soft-hearted street dancer, and not the tragic Quasimodo. To his credit, Chaney – though top-billed – recognizes this and admirably serves as an essential member of the ensemble, not as the film’s principal player.

This Kino release has been cobbled together from the best existing prints available, so there are temperature and tinting changes from section to section. But it’s a beautiful 4K restoration and while surviving element damage is not totally absent, the film looks remarkable all things considered. This edition also features a lively and original musical score. This new soundtrack is composed and performed by Nora Kroll-Rosenbaum and Laura Karpman, both Julliard-trained artists and the previous recipients of Grammy and Emmy Award nominations/victories.

Over this millennium, The Hunchback of Notre Dame has been re-made on any number of occasions. The best recalled of these are RKO’s 1939 version featuring Charles Laughton or the French-Italian 1956 version featuring Anthony Quinn and Gina Lollobrigida. Folks of my generation might better recall these two post-Chaney re-tellings, especially if they have little interest in silent cinema. Younger folks were likely first introduced to the tale via Disney’s 1996 animated musical adaptation – a film whose cartoon Quasimodo most resembled Laughton’s pitiful, less grotesque caricature. Having said that, Chaney’s Quasimodo, despite age, will forever remain the most iconic.

A few notes on this generous bonus materials supplied on this set. Included is a vintage, silent Life in Hollywood newsreel that features a birds-eye view of the massive Universal City lot, described on an inter-title card as “the strangest city in the world.” Once on soil, we watch as a procession of Universal’s silent-era stars and starlets’ parade out of a studio canteen. Most of these names are now sadly lost to the memory of all but a small cabal of film historians. The newsreel, running approximately eight and a half minutes in length features a small clip of Chaney – sans costume and make-up - demonstrating a bit of acrobatics on the exterior of the Notre Dame structure.

The set also features a thirteen-minute silent reel of “Mabel and Bill Dumphy’s Visit with Hazel and Lon.” This is sourced from 16mm footage shot during the couple’s visits with Chaney, his wife Hazel, and their wire-haired terrier Sandy, at rest during the family’s residencies in Soboba Hot Springs and Saratoga. The Soboba footage is primarily interesting in its moody capture of the former’s Riverside County hamlet’s Spanish mission-styled architecture and terraced landscapes. There’s not much Chaney in the Soboba footage, aside from Lon looking out pensively over the hillside, or playfully tugging at Sandy the dog’s tail in another.

The Saratoga footage documents additional glimpses of the Chaneys at home. We watch as Chaney and guests mill about a backyard garden, the reclusive actor letting down his guarded reserve. We watch as Lon playfully wrestles a giggling Hazel on the lawn or smoking and drinking with friends. The latter clip is of interest due to the recognizable presence of Lon’s son, Creighton (strategically “re-christened” Lon Chaney Jr. following his father’s passing), smiling as he too puffs away on a cigarette in the background. The set also features an audio-commentary track by Farran Smith Nehme, a film historian and critic whose work has appeared in such publications as Film Comment, The Wall Street Journal, Village Voice and New York Post. The set rounds off with a generous gallery/slideshow of publicity materials and production stills.

One hundred years following the date of its production, Worsley’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame admittedly puts the “retro” in Cinema Retro. But despite the film’s age, its heart still beats soundly. Anyone interested in film history should visit this film at least once in their lifetime, and this Kino Blu-ray might just be the best conduit for one to do just that.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

On Tuesday, April 25,  it was a balmy and pleasant New York evening as ticket holders and the press lined up at Lincoln Center to attend the New York Philharmonic's special concert in honor of five-time Oscar winning composter John Williams. Attendees walked past the famous circular fountain in the main concourse area where Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder had rejoiced in Mel Brooks' "The Producers". The movie reference is appropriate because Williams is best known for his contributions to cinema over the course of the last six decades. Inside the Wu Tsai Theater in David Geffen Hall, nary a free seat could be found. The event had sold out quickly, with even standing room only places quickly snapped up by eager admirers of Williams. Cinema Retro has been invited to cover many of the NY Phil's film-oriented concerts over the years and each one is a very memorable occasion. However, at the risk of appearing to engage in some hyperbole, the Williams concert was not only memorable but the most impressive film concert this reviewer has ever seen. Conductor Ken-David Masur, son of NY Phil's Music Director Emeritus Kurt Masur, made his debut with the orchestra with this performance. If Masur had any trepidation of performing with John Williams in the audience, it was not evident. He was simply brilliant, as was the full orchestra.

The concert began in dramatic fashion with the NY Phil's magnificent rendering of Williams' main theme for the 1978 film "Superman". The choice of musical selections was inspired and sidestepped predictability. There were selections from "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" that had hints of the famous main title theme. This was followed by a presentation of Williams' track from a chase scene in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade". An unusual inclusion was the animated Oscar-winning 2017 short film "Dear Basketball" narrated by Kobe Bryant that chronicled the late, legendary basketball player's lifelong fascination with the sport. Williams provided the score the production, illustrating once again the sheer diversity of his achievements. Then, to the delight of the audience, The NY Phil played selections from "Star Wars: A New Hope", which predictably brought down the house. But there were plenty more thrills in store. 

To the accompaniment of Williams' main theme from "Jaws", Steven Spielberg took to the stage, eschewing his usual casual look for black tie. Commenting upon his musical introduction, Spielberg quipped that "I've made 3,300 hundred movies and all anyone wants to talk about is 'Jaws'!" He elaborated by saying that even among autograph hunters, it's "Jaws" more than any of his other films that elicits the most comments. Spielberg spoke warmly about his longtime friendship with John Williams, reminding the audience that they have collaborated on 51 films over a period of 29 years. It's clear that Spielberg still regards him as a treasured mentor as well as an essential collaborator. Spielberg then showed the opening sequence of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" sans any musical score. He wanted to emphasize how valuable a composer's contribution to a film is. We're all familiar with the scene, as Indy appears to have successfully snatched a golden relic only to find he has triggered the activation of many death traps. Spielberg remembered that, upon seeing the unscored sequence back in the day, George Lucas said "We need Johnny!" Indeed, "Johnny" did contribute his magic, as evidenced when Spielberg replayed the scene with Williams' score intact. I came to realize that his genius was not only in providing a suspenseful score, but for making musical notes appear to be special sound effects that further enhanced the scene. The tribute continued with the NY Phil providing musical tributes to "Raiders of the Lost Ark", "Jurassic Park" and "E.T.: The Extraterrestrial", accompanied by extensive film clips.

The event concluded with Spielberg paying tribute to Williams' haunting score for "Schindler's List". He then invited Williams to take to the podium and conduct the orchestra for this pivotal work. Predictably, the audience responded with thunderous applause. The somber, heart-wrenching score brought back all the memories of the brilliant film and the disturbing images that have led me to be unable to watch it since I saw it upon its initial release. Williams left the stage to a standing ovation that wouldn't stop. He then reemerged to conduct the orchestra for the iconic theme song from the Indiana Jones films. He left the stage once more but the audience wouldn't relent in its applause so Williams came out again. This time, the energetic 91-year old concluded the proceedings by conducting the "Imperial March and Finale" from "Star Wars: A New Hope". I doubt there was a dry eye in the house.

New York City has taken it on the chin in recent years with reports of all the things that had gone wrong during the time of the pandemic. But Gotham was back in full glory thanks to the remarkable talents that provided the audience with a historic and unforgettable evening. We are unlikely to see a film composer with the career accomplishments of John Williams ever again. Anyone who was privileged to witness this extraordinary event would understand why.

(Special thanks to Lanore Carr)

By Lee Pfeiffer

"The Pink Jungle" is a Universal production from 1968 and it looks it, with plenty of backlot sets doubling for authentic foreign settings. The studio always clutched the purse strings rather tightly when producing mid-range fare such as this, but it doesn't mean these films were devoid of value. This particular production was based on a 1965 action adventure novel titled "Swamp Water" by Allan Williams, which is regarded as a straight-forward thriller. The film adaptation with a script by Charles Williams eschews the thrills in favor of laughs. The film opens in one of those conveniently unnamed-but-undesirable South American countries where we find James Garner arriving in a one-horse town. He's fashion photographer Ben Morris who is there to do a quick shoot before returning to the States. The subject of his fashion spread soon arrives: supermodel Alison Duguesne (Eva Renzi), and she's more than a bit put off by the primitive environment. Things go downhill from there. They find they are stranded when the only local helicopter is stolen. They are introduced to the local corrupt police chief, Colonel Celaya (Fabrizio Mioni), who is looking to squeeze them for any bribes he can get. Then there is Raul Ortega (Michael Ansara), a local shady character in his own right. I won't bother with detailing how all of these characters affect the story, as we're not outlining "Citizen Kane" here. Suffice it to say that both Ben and Alison find themselves on defense all the time among this stew of swindlers and killers. Things kick into high gear when they meet Sammy Reiderbeit (George Kennedy), a South African with an American accent (!). He's a volatile nut case who embroils them in a seemingly madcap scheme to find a hidden diamond mine. He has access to a map that supposedly outlines where it is located but it requires an arduous and dangerous journey to reach the area- and there are all sorts of villains on their trail trying to obtain the map at any cost. 

"The Pink Jungle" is played strictly for laughs with Garner playing a typical Garner role: a man of action who can dispense punches and quips with equal skill. Kennedy plays a typical Kennedy role: a loud, crude boisterous type who is more brawn than brains. They form one of those uneasy partnerships to set off to find the gold only to encounter another disreputable character, McCune (Nigel Green) who joins the team even though no one trusts him. The first section of the film is shot entirely on the Universal backlot, though the art directors- Al Ybarra and and Alexander Golitzen- do succeed in making the seedy buildings seem convincing. Things only open up when the characters hit the mountains and desert (entirely filmed in California and Nevada). It's clear that Universal designed this movie for quick playoff. I'm not even certain it ever played as a main feature, as I recall as a kid seeing it as the bottom half of a double-bill with "Lady in Cement". Writing in his memoirs many years later, Garner dismissed the film thusly: "I made this thing for the money and I'm lucky it didn't wreck my career". That seems a bit harsh. If one approaches the film with modest expectations, they might be rewarded with some modest pleasures. Garner is always fun to watch and Eva Renzi, fresh from her success in "Funeral in Berlin",  makes an appealing leading lady whose flirtatious relationship with Ben remains chaste, probably because they spend most of their time dodging assassination attempts. George Kennedy dominates every scene he's in as the cigar-chomping, erratic, yet likable madman who is obsessed with finding the diamond mine. Nigel Green's appearance mid-film adds some intrigue and he's fun to watch.  Director Delbert Mann, like his cast members, would not have put this film near the top of his credentials. (He had directed the Oscar winner, "Marty"). However, his workmanlike direction here keeps the pace lively and the action flowing. Oh, and the ending does provide a bit of a surprise revelation.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray presents the film in a reasonably good transfer. The only bonus extra is the original trailer (which plays up George Kennedy's recent Oscar win for "Cool Hand Luke") and a gallery of other trailers for KL action movie releases.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Way back in 1971 when I was in high school, there seemed to be a tidal wave of soft-core porn flicks, mostly imported from Europe and dubbed rather crudely into English. I never sought to spend the paltry contents of my wallet on these tame sex movies movies because I lived directly across the river from Times Square and that offered my friends and I the real forbidden fruit in sleazy, grind house movie theaters. Age was no barrier as long as you were willing to pay the then tidy sum of $5. However, the softcore Euro imports did find enthusiastic audiences in places where there weren't many alternatives to finding cinematic "adult entertainment". The films were generally rated "X" but were pretty tame, stressing humor to overcome objections from local killjoys who thought the idea of seeing some naked people on screen would condemn their entire community to eternal damnation. One of the most profitable of these films was the 1969 release, "The Stewardesses", which was so tame that it could be shown on Disney+ today. Nevertheless, these films afforded women to get a few cheap thrills without having to suffer the stigma of being seen entering a theater showing hardcore fare. Thus, plenty of couples enjoyed the opportunity to share in date nights that somewhat pushed the envelope in terms of general standards. The films were generally bestowed with memorable titles, which is why I remember the newspaper ads for "Dagmar's Hot Pants" and similar fare such as "The Long Swift Sword of Siegfried". The good news is that some of these films have been lovingly presented on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber, in collaboration with Code Red. When a screener arrived of "Dagmar's Hot Pants", I took an immediate interest, remembering hot pants as one of those short-lived fashion trends of the 1970s. For those readers who were not around way back then, the gimmick with hot pants was a simple one: they were very short and very tight and left little to the imagination. Although my high school had a very liberal dress code (jeans and T shirts were the norm), I do recall one of my female classmates pushing the envelope by wearing hot pants to class. That was a bridge too far and she was summarily sent home to change into something less offensive, much to the consternation of her male classmates. At least hot pants were provocative and sensible, as opposed to the male fashions of the era such as the leisure suit and safari jacket, the latter of which was a dress/casual abomination that looked as though it was designed to allow a man to hunt elephants in the morning and then attend a swank cocktail party in the evening without changing attire.

I looked forward to viewing "Dagmar's Hot Pants" simply to see an abundance of this long-forgotten fashion trend glorified on screen. Alas, I was snookered, as was anyone back in the day who paid to see the film. You see, there are no hot pants in "Dagmar's Hot Pants". They are neither shown nor discussed. It was simply a case of a shamelessly deceptive marketing campaign to capitalize on a recent fashion trend. Oh, well.The film itself presents lovely Diana Kjaer in the title role, playing a fabulously successful young woman who has emerged as one of Copenhagen's most in-demand hookers. Dagmar's daily schedule of meeting with clients from around the globe is frantic and she sometimes has to call on the services of fellow prostitutes to assist her in meeting some of the more unusual demands of her customers. The film takes a humorous view of all this, as we see Dagmar patiently keeping a straight face while interacting with oddball clients ranging from two goofy Japanese businessmen who want an orgy to horny local businessmen of some esteem, including a doctor who pays Dagmar to initiate his teenage son in the ways of the world. The only "normal" client Dagmar services is a member of Copenagen's Vice Squad, who ensures she doesn't get busted in return for sexual favors. One of her adoring clients is a gruff, but rich American businessman played by Robert Strauss...yes, that Robert Strauss who had earned an Oscar nomination for Billy Wilder's "Stalag 13". It's a bit uncomfortable seeing the sixty-something actor engaging in a sexual dalliance with Dagmar but presumably the lure of a quick paycheck and a trip to Copenhagen made for an offer Strauss couldn't refuse. If Robert Strauss has always figured into your fantasies, then your ship has come in. Throughout the story, Dagmar is keeping a big secret as she arranges to leave her lucrative business for a top secret venture. "That's it!", I thought- she's going into the hot pants manufacturing business, but alas, the answer is somewhat more mundane and disappointing. There are a couple of minor efforts to introduce some dramatic scenes into the slapstick. Dagmar lends her desperate brother money so that his girlfriend can get an abortion. There is also a tense scene with her quasi-pimp, a scary fellow who threatens her if she doesn't obey his wishes. In this sense, the film differs from similar movies of this type by at least acknowledging that the life of a call girl isn't all fun and games. 

As is usual with these films, there are some interludes showing the star walking through the lovely streets of Copenhagen in an obvious attempt to add an exotic appeal to the production. Diana Kjaer manages to keep her clothes on occasionally but for the most part she is seen showering or chatting on the phone sans any cumbersome garments. I must say the dubbing in this film is a bit better than most and Code Red and Kino Lorber have provided a good looking transfer from a 2K master. You have to admire companies that take such efforts to preserve and present even minor films such as this.

The only bonus extra is an English language trailer that continues the sin of false advertising by saying "Dagmar's Hot Pants" is the name the title character has given to her prostitution network. In fact, there is never any mention of Dagmar's Hot Pants anywhere in the film. However, if these tame sex comedies from the distant past appeal to you, this is one of the better in this genre. I now hopefully await a Blu-ray release of "The Long Swift Sword of Siegfried"!.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

In the estimation of many film scholars the 1970s was the most adventurous and liberating period in the history of the medium. The new freedoms in regard to sex, violence and adult themes that had exploded in the mid-1960s became even more pronounced in the '70s. Among the most daring studios to take advantage of this trend was United Artists. The studio had been conceived by iconic actors in the silent era with the intent of affording artists as much creative control over their productions as possible. UA had continued to fulfill that promise, producing a jaw-dropping number of box-office hits and successful film franchises. The studio also disdained censorship and pushed the envelope with high profile movie productions. The daring decision to fund the X-rated "Midnight Cowboy" paid off handsomely. The 1969 production had not only been a commercial success but also won the Best Picture Oscar. A few years later UA went even further out on a limb by distributing "Last Tango in Paris". UA fully capitalized on the worldwide sensation the movie had made and the many attempts to restrict it from being shown at all in certain areas of the globe. Like "Midnight Cowboy", "Tango" was an important film by an important director that used graphic images of sexual activity for dramatic intensity. Unfortunately, not every filmmaker who was inspired by these new freedoms succeeded in the attempt to mainstream X-rated fare during those years that the rating wasn't only synonymous with low-budget porno productions. Case in point: screenwriter John Byrum, who made his directorial debut with "Inserts", a bizarre film that UA released in 1975 that became a legendary bomb. The movie was released some years ago on Blu-ray as a limited edition by the now sadly defunct Twilight Time label. To my knowledge, it isn't available in that format today, although it is streaming on Screenpix, the subscription-based service that can be accessed through Amazon Prime, Roku, YouTube and Apple TV.

The claustrophobic tale resembles a filmed stage production. It is set primarily in one large living room in a decaying Hollywood mansion. The time period is the 1930s, shortly after the introduction of sound to the movie industry resulted in the collapse of silent pictures (Charlie Chaplin being the notable exception.) The central character, played by Richard Dreyfuss, is not named but is referred to as "The Boy Wonder". From our first glimpse of him we know we are seeing a man in trouble. He is unkempt, dressed in a bathrobe and swizzling booze directly from the bottle. We will soon learn that he was once a respected mainstream director of major studio films and was revered by Hollywood royalty. Now he is a has-been who has resorted to making porn movies in 16mm in his own home. (Yes, Virginia, people liked to watch dirty movies even way back then.) He is entertaining a visitor, Harlene (Veronica Cartwright), a perpetually cheery,  bubble-headed young woman who was once a respected actress but who, like Boy Wonder, has fallen on hard times. She is now a heroin addict who earns a living by "starring" in Boy Wonder's porn productions. They make small talk and some names from the current movie business are bandied about. Harlene tells Boy Wonder that a rising star named Clark Gable is said to be an admirer of his and wants to meet him. Instead of responding favorably to this news, Boy Wonder seems unnerved by it. The implication is that he is locked in a self-imposed downward spiral and lacks the self-confidence to attempt a real comeback. Harlene also needles him about his sexual prowess. It turns out that the king of porn films has long been impotent for reasons never explained.  As they prepare to film some scenes Harlene's male "co-star" (Stephen Davies) arrives. He is nicknamed Rex, The Wonder Dog, which seems to bother him especially when the Wonder Boy uses it to intentionally disparage him. Like Harlene, Rex is short on brains but is physically attractive. Boy Wonder seems to have a real resentment towards him, perhaps because Rex is a powerhouse in bed while he can't get anything going despite directing naked people in sex scenes. It becomes clear that Boy Wonder and Rex don't like each other. Boy Wonder ridicules Rex for performing sex acts on male studio executives who he naively believes will help him become a star. However, their relationship looks downright friendly compared to the interaction between Harlene and Rex. When Rex is a little slow in becoming physically aroused, Harlene mocks him mercilessly. This results in him essentially subjecting her to a violent rape which thrills Boy Wonder, who captures it all on film. Harlene doesn't appear to be any worse for the wear, however, and blithely says she's going off to a bedroom to rest.

The household is next visited by mobster Big Mac (Bob Hoskins), the man who finances Boy Wonder's film productions. He is accompanied by his financee Cathy Cake (Jessica Harper), a pretty young woman who seems to have a particular interest in the forbidden world of pornography. Big Mac and Boy Wonder also hate each other. Big Mac berates Boy Wonder for making his porn flicks too esoteric and artistic for their intended audiences who just want a cheap thrill. However, for Boy Wonder the porn films represent the last opportunity he has to demonstrate the cinematic style and camera angles that once impressed critics and the public. In the midst of their arguing, it is discovered that a tragedy has occurred: Harlene has died from a heroin overdose. Everyone seems nonplussed by the news and Big Mac's only concern is to ditch the body somewhere quickly. Turns out Rex has a part time job in a funeral parlor and can arrange for a gruesome plan in which they dump her body inside a grave that is being prepared for another person's funeral the next day. The plan is to dig a bit deeper, bury Harlene, then place a layer of dirt over her and have the "new" body placed on top of hers. As Big Mac and Rex leave to "undertake" this sordid task, Boy Wonder finds himself alone with Cathy Cake. She wants to use the time to have Boy Wonder film her in her own personal porn movie since Big Mac would never let his "fiancee" do so with his knowledge. She finds the idea of sex on film to be a stimulant but Boy Wonder won't have any of it. He knows that Big Mac's volatile temper and ever-present bodyguard could result in him being the next corpse in the house. Cathy Cake tries another tactic and feigns interest in Boy Wonder. He lets his guard down and gradually is seduced by her. She even manages to cure his impotence but the tryst turns ugly when she learns he has not filmed it. Boy Wonder soon discovers that his renewed pride and self-respect is to be short-lived when it becomes clear that Cathy Cake actually loathes him and was only using him in order to fulfill her porn movie fantasy. The ploy works to a degree- her attention to Boy Wonder reawakens his sexual prowess but when she learns the camera wasn't rolling, she cruelly tells him that she only used him for selfish purposes. With this, Big Mac and Rex return from their horrendous errand and catch Boy Wonder in bed with Cathy Cake. The situation becomes dangerous with Big Mac threatening to kill Boy Wonder and things only deteriorate from there. 

Richard Dreyfuss was said to have had a personal obsession with this film. He was very involved in all aspects of its production and remained defensive about the movie after its harsh reception from critics. The movie's complete rejection by reviewers and the public might have hurt his career but Dreyfuss already had "American Graffiti" and "Jaws" under his belt. Soon he would also star in another blockbuster, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" followed by his Oscar-winning performance in "The Goodbye Girl". The fact that so few people ever saw "Interiors" actually worked to his advantage. However, whatever motivated him to become involved in this bizarre project remains a mystery. It's an ugly tale about ugly people doing ugly things to each other. If there is a message here, I didn't receive it. There isn't a single character you can identify with or sympathize with. They are all self-obsessed cynics with no redeeming traits. That leaves us with whatever values the performances afford us and it's a mixed bag. Dreyfuss is miscast. He was twenty nine years-old when he made the film and, despite his sordid appearance which ages him considerably, he is still far too young to portray a once-great movie director who has fallen on hard times. John Byrum's direction of Dreyfuss is unsteady. At times he encourages him to underplay scenes while at other times he has Dreyfuss chew the scenery mercilessly. Similarly, Stephen Davies plays the brain-dead hunk Rex with flamboyantly gay characteristics one minute then suddenly transforms into a heterosexual stud the next. Bob Hoskins is squarely in what would become his trademark tough-guy gangster mode but gives a solid performance. The best acting comes from the two female leads, with Veronica Cartwright especially good as the ill-fated Harlene. Jessica Harper also does well in her thankless role. Both women seem at ease in doffing their clothes and playing much of their scenes in a provocative state. Cartwright even goes full frontal for the violent sex scene with Rex while Harper spends almost the entire last act of the film being photographed topless. Curiously, the willingness to appear nude onscreen was considered the epitome of female emancipation in films during the 1970s but the practice  has largely become frowned upon in more recent years. In fact the days are long gone when virtually every major actress had to appear naked on screen. Today, female emancipation is the ability to play erotic scenes on screen without having to be completely compromised.  

If John Byrum's debut as a director is problematic, so, too, is his script. There is a lot of name-dropping about the great figures in the movie industry who once socialized with the Boy Wonder but it all seems pretentious and unconvincing right down to the constant attempts by Boy Wonder to avoid meeting the unseen Clark Gable. In fact, aside from some fleeting references the "Flapper Look" styles worn by the women, the film could have been set in the 1970s. Byrum has the characters indulge in  vernacular that is far too contemporary for the 1930s. The only wit that is apparent concerns Big Mac's plans to build roadside restaurants that would all look the same and serve identical fast food. ("Big Mac"- get it?) Beyond that, there are few attempts at humor and most of those pertain to unspeakably cruel behavior and mutual humiliation. There seems to be no purpose for the film's existence beyond the desire of the participants to be in a porn movie. Given their status in the industry that was obviously not going to happen so they banded together for a quasi-porn movie and shrouded it in the protective layer of intellectualism. This gave them all the cover of being artistes and Richard Dreyfuss the opportunity to nibble on Jessica Harper's nipples while pretending there was some greater purpose to it all. In reality the film's most cringe-inducing scene has Dreyfuss and Harper having an extended conversation about her private parts, which are referred to repeatedly (almost to an absurd degree) in gutter language as those the actors were pre-teenagers using naughty words for the first time. 

There are said to be people who consider "Inserts" to be an underrated gem. But for this writer, it represents an interesting but woefully misguided experiment by some very talented people who should have known better.

By Hank Reineke

In case you were wondering, the answer is “yes.” That is Christopher Lee’s visage featured on the slipcase of Kino Lorber’s Blu ray issue of Vernon Sewell’s The Blood Beast Terror. Now, ordinarily, displaying Sir Christopher’s image on a Gothic horror film release wouldn’t make for bad marketing. The problem is that Lee doesn’t actually appear in The Blood Beast Terror. The team at Kino curiously chose to use the poster art of Distribuzione Italiana Films Internazionali, the distributor readying the film for European release as the Mostro di Sangue.

The artwork procured by D.I.F.I. for The Blood Beast Terror was, at the very least, familiar: a reverse-image lifted from the Italian poster of 1958’s Horror of Dracula (Dracula il Vampiro). Kino is taking a fair battering on fan sites for their packaging of this 2022 issue. But let’s be fair. Kino’s decision to forego the original British poster art for the imagery of the Italian campaign might be a bit odd but not technically incorrect. Moviegoers in Italy had, in fact, been lured into visiting their local cinema with such eye-catching - if misleading - artwork.

Though Tigon’s The Blood Beast Terror has a core of supporters – perhaps defenders is a better term - I find the film a mild amusement at best. Which is a shame as I really want to like it. In a sense, it’s a film conceived from a time out of mind. Some critics suggest that’s exactly the film’s failing. Upon UK release in the early spring of 1968, stately Gothic horrors were seemingly growing stale amongst horror film fans. Critics argued a new era of more edgy, sadistic and blood-letting horrors was in the ascendant, old costume-drama gothics now too tame to frighten. While that’s not necessarily untrue, there’s no denying The Blood Beast Terror is of middling interest simply due to it not being terribly involving.

While it’s true goth-horror had lost some of its courtly appeal with a large sect of cinemagoers, the sub-genre was hardly dead. A case in point: upon original release The Blood Beast Terror was paired as the undercard to Michael Reeve’s brilliant Witchfinder General, a film set circa 1645. This too was a Tigon release of Tony Tenser’s, a Vincent Price vehicle far superior to The Blood Beast Terror on every conceivable level. I might be wrong, but I suspect if not for the presence of Peter Cushing in The Blood Beast Terror, Sewell’s more modest film would have far fewer champions than it enjoys today.

So what’s wrong with it? I admit to moments of melancholia when watching The Blood Beast Terror. For starters, it’s difficult to watch old pros Cushing and Robert Flemyng (known best to horror film fans as the titular necrophagic M.D. The Horrible Dr. Hichcock) try their best to rise above the mediocre material they’ve been given to work with. The film’s Director of Photography, Stanley Long, recalled Flemyng complaining “how shit the script was, how shit the effects were.” Even director Sewell wasn’t spared the castigations of an unhappy cast member. He recalled the famously gentlemanly Cushing mildly offering only a couple of days into the shoot, “Vernon, I think this is perhaps the worst film I have ever made.” Sadly, in a few years’ time there would be new challengers to Cushing’s lament. Such clunkers as Tendre Dracula (1974) and Blood Suckers (1971) would prove short term contenders to that particular title.

I won’t give away anything important about the film’s flimsy plot – just in case you’ve yet to see the film and still wish to after reading this review. I’ll just say the trail of mutilated bodies scattering the English countryside are – as ever – the result of bad science gone horribly wrong. In this case entomological science. As transformative feminine-insect monsters go, Wanda Ventham’s fetching “Clare” in The Blood Beast Terror is, IMHO, a far less interesting or menacing creature than Susan Cabot’s “Janice Starlin” in Roger Corman’s low-budget The Wasp Woman (1959). But, again, the fault here lies not with Ventham or Cushing or Flemyng, but with a script riddled with excessive verbiage and slow-moving, sluggish plotting.

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

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

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

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

Synopsis

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

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“IS YOU IN THERE, ZOMBIE?”

By Raymond Benson

There are a handful of Hollywood movies out there that successfully combined comedy with the horror genre. Surprisingly, truly good ones are few and far between. Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) is perhaps the quintessential example of the genre mashup. It provided genuine thrills and some frights mixed in with hilarious comedic bits. A more recent one that comes to mind is of course the 1984 megahit, Ghostbusters. There is no question that this Bill Murray vehicle owes a great deal to the 1940 romp, The Ghost Breakers, considered one of Bob Hope’s most beloved early pictures.

Based on the 1909 stage play, The Ghost Breaker, by Paul Dickey and Charles W. Goddard, the 1940 movie is actually a remake of previous adaptations. Both Cecil B. DeMille and Alfred E. Green made silent films of the play in 1914 and 1922, respectively, and both of these versions are considered lost. In turn, the 1940 The Ghost Breakers was remade by the same director, George Marshall, as Scared Stiff (1953), which starred Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, and it is arguable that Marshall also helmed a very similar picture in 1945 entitled Murder, He Says, which starred Fred MacMurray.

After the success of The Cat and the Canary (1939), yet another good example of a Hollywood horror-comedy that starred Bob Hope and Paulette Goddard, the pair was brought back a year later for The Ghost Breakers. Also starring Richard Carlson, Paul Lukas, a young Anthony Quinn, and African-American comic actor Willie Best, The Ghost Breakers was a popular hit that solidified Hope’s place as one of the coming decade’s great talents.

Mary Carter (Goddard) has inherited a spooky old mansion on an island off of Cuba, and she plans to sail from New York to the island to inspect the place. Other sinister forces—a foreigner named Parada (Lukas), the twin Mederos brothers (Quinn, in both roles), and others not named here for the sake of spoilers, also want the mansion because of a secret hidden within. Apparently it is also full of ghosts, or so the legends say. During a classic situational and comedic mix-up of mistaken identities, radio star Larry Lawrence (Hope) finds himself trapped in Mary’s steamer trunk that has been loaded onto the ship to Cuba. Larry’s loyal valet and friend, Alex (Best) stowaways to keep track of his boss. Once on the island, Larry assumes the role of a “ghost buster,” since he’s obviously fallen for Mary and wants to protect her from the bad guys. Throw in a handsome historian, Geoff (Carlson), and the cinematic stew has enough complications and plot twists to keep one entertained for the film’s brief 83 minutes.

Hope is terrific, and one can easily see the development of his coward-with-bravado character that he adapted for himself in pretty much all screen appearances, including the “Road” pictures with Bing Crosby. Goddard is also winning, a perfect comic and gorgeous foil for the tale. While the rest of the cast is admirable, one must single out the great Willie Best, an actor who unfortunately was misused by Hollywood—very typical in those days—to display a stereotype of the comic black man with bulging eyes and slow dialogue delivery. (“Is you in there, zombie?” he asks, knocking on a door.) That said, it is apparent that Best is brilliant in comic timing, handling the demeaning characterization with utmost professionalism. If The Ghost Breakers has a flaw, it is this. In today’s climate, Best’s Alex is wince-inducing, but one can still appreciate the man’s talent and competence.

Director Marshall keeps the picture moving at a brisk pace, and the creepy aspects—while certainly not scary today—are effective enough. Noble Johnson’s zombie is an interesting take on that relatively rare creature (for the time), three years prior to the Val Lewton masterpiece, I Walked with a Zombie.

Kino Lorber’s new 2K master looks quite good in high definition, despite the age of the material. There is an audio commentary by author and film historian Lee Gambin that fills in listeners on all the trivia behind the movie. The only supplement is a “Trailers from Hell” piece on the title by Larry Karaszewski, and the theatrical trailer for this and other Kino releases.

The Ghost Breakers is for fans of Bob Hope, Paulette Goddard, Hollywood horror-comedy, and those distinctive pre-war pictures that provided solid enjoyment in less than ninety minutes.

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By Hank Reineke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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BY HANK REINEKE

As a promotional vehicle, the trailer for director Roger Corman’s The Raven was clearly deceptive in its construction. Cinemagoers were promised that AIP’s newest Poe film would offer three of the “Screen’s Titans of Terror,” the trailer flashing short, moody scenes of torch-lit chambers, menacing stares, and the odd clutching hand. Intertitle cards and a voice-over narration promised “A tempest of thrilling horror,” The Raven to allow brave moviegoers to go “Careening through the darkest of dangers into the ominous mystery of a master magician’s evil castle… witnessing the mysterious powers of black magic.”

On the eve of the film’s release, the newspaper promotionals – entirely gleaned from the studio’s own duplicitous pressbook - promised much of the same, “a thrilling mixture of the most powerful terror ingredients ever assembled.” There was a reason for the filmmakers to cautiously hold the actual cards they were playing close to their chests. Producers James H. Nicholson and Samuel Z. Arkoff were aware that through their series of Edgar Allan Poe pictures they were holding a true tiger by the tail. It was certainly helpful to the notoriously frugal producers that Poe’s work had long fallen into public domain status and was therefore royalty-free in use. The box office returns on the first of their four Poe films were pleasing, and expectations were high that The Raven would do as well if not better.

So it was only mildly surprising when, in March 1963, the producers announced that no fewer than ten more Poe pictures would be slated for production by AIP. The next one planned, The Masque of the Red Death, was announced to begin shooting in April of ’63… although a springtime shooting wouldn’t actually commence as proclaimed. Other titles announced were to include, The Haunted Palace, Murders in the Rue Morgue, The Gold Bug, A Descent into the Maelstrom, Ligeia, The Thousand and Second Tale of Scheherazade, The Angel of the Odd, The Four Beast in One, and The City by the Sea. It was an ambitious plan, but with the exception of Masque (with a delayed November ’63 start) only four of the other projected titles would actually see production.

Such breakneck speed mining of Poe’s Gothic horror materials might be considered market over-saturation by contemporary standards, but upon its release in January of 1963, The Raven was the fifth Poe film released by AIP in a span of two years. In September of 1962, Samuel Z. Arkoff sat down for an interesting chinwag with Stanley Eichelbaum, the theater and film critic of the San Francisco Examiner. That interview touched briefly on AIP’s shoe-string beginnings: the days when such efforts as The Day the World Ended, The Phantom from 10,000 Leagues, and I Was a Teenage Age Werewolf – not to mention the sixty or so films featuring Hot Rods and monsters in “Indian-rubber” masks - were knocked out quickly and cheaply by the indie.

It was true that AIP had certainly come a long way since its incorporation in 1955. And while the producers continued to hold tight to the company’s purse strings, Arkoff acknowledged that they were presently allowing for budgets as high as $500,000 a picture on many of their recent color Panavision releases. This was a notable mention since such budgets were five times the amount AIP had put up to fund their teen-market pictures of the late 1950s.

The Poe films were bringing in more than a teenager audience into the cinemas, and the producers recognized the trend. Since monster and horror films had played such an important role in the AIP’s success, it was surprising to hear Arkoff sum up part of the audience who loved macabre cinematic fare in less than charitable terms. “The horror crowd falls into three groups,” he told Eichelbaum, “the young people; the adult morons; and the intelligent adults. It’s pretty difficult to cater to all of them in one movie. But that’s what we try to do.”

The company had certainly achieved an enviable level of success since incorporation. As their production budgets grew more generous, Arkoff and Nicholson were able to bring into the fold some horror picture veterans who still held sway with fans of the genre. Since the first Poe film House of Usher (1960), the producers managed to secure the talents of such luminaries as Boris Karloff, Basil Rathbone, Peter Lorre, Barbara Steele, Vincent Price, Ray Milland and Hazel Court, with Lon Chaney Jr. waiting in the wings for his second act.

In his usual blunt manner, Arkoff partly attributed the actors’ willingness to work with AIP on the series due to the fact, “Actors like Poe. He has snob appeal.” That may have been a consideration of the talent conscripted, but it’s also true that it was a welcome payday for these (mostly) aging and typecast thespians. Many gathered had heydays dating back to Hollywood of the 1930s and 40s. It’s also true that due to the “Monster Boom” of the late 1950s and early 1960s, these actors were thought highly and fondly of by a generation who knew them primarily through Shock package TV screenings and such horror-film fan magazines as Famous Monsters of Filmland, Shock Monsters, and Fantastic Monsters of the Films.

Of course, should anyone have misgivings that Arkoff was more interested in the bottom line than in art, such suspicion would soon be confirmed. The producer was, of course, certainly correct in his assessment that “picture-making has to be a business.” He insisted that the business of filmmaking was simply “not a cheap individual art, like painting or sculpting.” Fair enough. But Arkoff, then a forty-three year old former lawyer, went further, suggesting he didn’t care whether a film was good or bad following release. He was only interested if it clicked at the box office. He also wasn’t concerned if the films produced by AIP would stand the test of time or be held in high regard in the distant future. “We can’t let a movie sit on a vine for thirty years waiting for recognition. If we can’t get a return, where will we get the money for the next one?”

Co-producer James H. Nicholson was somewhat more prosaic in assessing the popularity of the horror pictures that AIP churned out with regularity over the past seven years. He offered the move-going public’s dimming fascination with horror films was curiously reignited following World War II. Choosing to take the historical long-view, Nicholson offered there had always been a market for scary stories, noting “Greek myths were horror subjects” in style and content. When questioned by a UPI correspondent if the 1960s horror film craze was just that – a passing fad – the producer insisted mythological stories were as popular in 1964 as they had been during ancient times. “There are only three emotions,” Nicholson opined. “Deep sorrow, laughter and just plain thrills, and our movies are filled with the last.”

"WHEN SHERMAN MET FRANKENSTEIN" 

BY MARK CERULLI

To celebrate the release of producer Sam Sherman’s memoir, When Dracula Met Frankenstein (Murania Press) Cinema Retro presents this exclusive interview with the man himself. In our two-hour conversation, the filmmaker demonstrated a virtual photographic memory when discussing his remarkable 60 plus year career. Our interview was a time capsule of the drive-in era where creative marketing, distribution and production exemplified the true spirit of independent filmmaking.

Sam Sherman grew up a horror and western film fan. The first horror film Sam ever saw was Universal’s classic monster comedy, Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) which captivated his imagination at a very young age. Following his dream, he attended City College of New York to study filmmaking. Like most CR readers, he was also an avid collector – in his case, horror stills, which one imagines were almost given away in the 1950s. Those black and white photos, picked up in the small memorabilia stores that used to dot Manhattan, led to a career – “In 1958, I wrote to Famous Monsters and to my surprise, got a call back from Jim Warren and asked if they’d be interested in renting my stills,” Sherman recalled.

“I produced ads for Captain Company (FM’s merchandising division) and I also acquired product for them.” (As one who spent a lot of hard-earned teenage cash on Captain Co products - including a Dr. No movie poster for all of $4.99 - that was a part of Sam’s long career I could instantly relate to.)

While ghostwriting articles for FM and working on other Warren publications like Spacemen, Screen Thrills Illustrated and Wildest Westerns, Sherman frequently found his enthusiasm for horror looked down upon by Help! magazine art director, Terry Gilliam. Years later, Gilliam took an obvious jab (and inspiration) from Sherman’s climactic battle of the monsters in Dracula vs Frankenstein (1971) with his own comedic dismemberment scene in Monty Python & The Holy Grail (1975). “I made it a point never to see anything he’s done,” Sam adds.

In the 1950s and 60s, New York was the center of the film universe and Sherman found himself making the rounds of small distributors trying to find films to license for his own fledgling company, Signature Films. Sam later got in with an independent film company called Hemisphere Pictures which specialized in movies shot in the Philippines, including the Blood Island horror cult classics directed by Eddie Romero. Sherman honed his exploitation skills by creating the theatrical, television, radio and print ad campaigns which established Hemisphere as The House of Horror with unforgettable gimmicks and marketing promotions like “The Oath of Green Blood” for the first audience participation film, The Mad Doctor of Blood Island (1969).

Sam’s book is full of photos from that era – from snapshots of early visits to LA, to on-set stills and “ballyhoo” photos of theater displays, lurid posters and marquees. One image that jumps out is of a young Sam standing behind the iconic Boris Karloff on A.I.P.’s The Raven set. “Forry Ackerman (Famous Monsters’ longtime editor) took me to the last day of shooting and we spent the whole day with Peter Lorre and Vincent Price, which was wonderful. I had a nice chat with Karloff. He finished up for the day and (director) Roger Corman took him away to do The Terror, which was non-union, somewhere else.” Talk about maximizing your star!

In 1968, Sherman and several partners – including longtime friend, filmmaker Al Adamson, formed Independent-International Pictures Corp. (a riff off the very successful American International Pictures). “Al just wanted to make movies, he left it to me to figure out how to market them and make money,” Sam recalls.

Their first production for the new company was a raw biker film, Satan’s Sadists starring Russ Tamblyn of West Side Story fame and directed by Adamson. The film tapped into the national shockwaves reverberating from biker gang violence as well as LA’s horrific Manson murders. The female lead was a statuesque California blonde, Regina Carrol, who became Adamson’s girlfriend, later his wife and star of his films. Wanting to give her a little extra exposure, Sherman labeled her “The Freak-Out Girl”. As the film contained nudity, the then-new movie ratings board wanted to slap an X on Satan’s Sadists. Sam went to the mat to contest it, even advising the theatre circuits to rate the film themselves based on regional tastes vs the Motion Picture Board’s inconsistent classifications for independent films.

Sam’s book is full of similar throw out the rulebook tales – like licensing an odd Filipino caveman film named Tagani which was shot in black & white. To modernize it, Adamson shot some new scenes with veteran horror star John Carradine but the film still didn’t look right, so Sam suggested using various tints (“Like they did in silent movies”). He wrote MORE new scenes (including computer sex!), added an eye-catching title - Horror of the Blood Monsters and they now had a releasable film!

At Independent-International, Sam and Al shrugged off the industry’s notoriously unforgiving deadlines: “We released an imported German picture called Women for Sale which had been a big hit and I said ‘We can’t find anything like it to follow up with, so let’s make a picture like this’, it’ll be called Girls for Rent…” Sam hired an industry friend to write it, months went by without a script. “We’re getting closer to the key summer playdates, and we were really in a jam” Sam recalled. “I got another writer and we knocked the picture out fast, doing the campaign fast, ordered prints and got it into release by the end of the summer. Sixty days, I couldn’t believe we could do it but we did and it was a pretty good film!”

Of course, there’s a chapter on Independent-International’s biggest picture – Dracula vs Frankenstein, which actually started out as Blood Freaks (aka Blood Seekers). “The script was not much of anything but I was working on it… we wanted a name actor so Al went to agent Jerry Rosen who said ‘You can have Lon Chaney, Jr. and J. Carrol Naish for a week for $6K.’” They booked them sight unseen – and when they reported for work, both were in ill health. “Naish had a bad eye and Chaney had throat cancer. (Dracula vs Frankenstein would be his final horror film.) “Ya gotta meet the people,” Sam adds knowingly. Diminutive Angelo Rossitto rounded out the cast as the carnival barker Grazbo. The resulting film was so bad, backers recommended it just be shelved. Sam lives by the motto “Waste not, want not” and since he was an editor himself, he went to work watching the film repeatedly until he found a line of dialogue he could use to expand the storyline to include the last surviving Frankenstein… and the monster. “And once I thought that I said, ‘Let’s bring in Dracula for good measure.’” Scraping together $50K for reshoots they hired a tall, dark-haired record store employee, Rafael Engel (named “Zandor Vorkov” by Forry) to play the Count and 7’4” accountant, John Bloom, to play the monster. “I left it to Al to make the picture, but as the president of Independent International, I made the final decisions,” Sam adds. Sam also tapped Famous Monsters’ Forry Ackerman who not only acted in the film, but also secured the electrical equipment and props of special effects wizard Kenneth Strickfaden for the production. Strickfaden’s crackling electrical contraptions were originally used in Universal’s Frankenstein film 40 years earlier. Against the odds, Dracula vs Frankenstein was a monster hit! Ahead of his time, Sam even released the film on TV AND in theaters/drive-ins “day-and-date” at the same time. “Nobody cared”, Sam says, chuckling, “I did what I wanted to do.”

Naturally, Sam devotes a chapter to his creative partner and “the brother I never had”, Al Adamson, who was tragically murdered by a contractor renovating his desert house in 1995. Incredibly Sam still had a connection with him because one night after Al had been declared “missing”, Sam silently asked his friend to give him a sign of where he was… the word “Cement” popped into his mind. He communicated that to police and sure enough, when they investigated, Al’s body was discovered underneath a cement floor. The contractor was apprehended in Florida and is now serving decades in prison but the pain of Sam’s loss is palpable. He still keeps Adamson’s name alive with drive-in screenings and special DVD and Blu-ray releases of their work.

Now 81, Sam feels the time is ripe for his story to be told. His oversize book is full of industry lore and life lessons. “I hope readers get that if they want to be in the picture business, they can… and people who aren’t filmmakers but want to know the history of Al and myself, the whole story is there – how we did it, why we did it and what really happened.” Summing up, Sam says, “We did what we had to do.”

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BY HANK REINEKE

Michael Curtiz’s Doctor X is a more technically extravagant version of the original stage production of playwrights Howard Warren Comstock and Allen C. Miller. The play was first tested at the Fox Theater in Great Neck, Long Island, for a single night’s performance on January 10, 1931. It was immediately followed by a brief run at Brandt’s Carlton Theatre in Jamaica, Queens, where newspaper adverts suggested theatergoers “Bring Your Shock Absorber” along. The production then moved to Brandt’s Boulevard Theatre in Jackson Heights, Queens, New York, for several performances, only to be followed by a week-long preview and fine-tuning at Brandt’s Flatbush Theater in Brooklyn beginning January 26.

The three-act “mystery melodrama” would finally make its Broadway debut at the Hudson Theater, off W. 44^th Street, on February 9, 1931. The stage play featured actor Howard Lang in the role of the sinister Dr. Xavier, but the mystery wouldn’t enjoy a terribly long run on the Great White Way. The Hudson would eventually shutter the doors on the production in mid-April 1931.

It’s no coincidence that four Brandt-owned theatres were successively engaged to showcase the early previews of Doctor X. The play had been intentionally co-produced for the stage by the theatre owners William and Harry Brandt. Billboard would note in December of 1930 that the two brothers had chosen to enter the field of theatrical production as a potential remedy to offset the “slack business conditions on the subway circuit.”

The early reviews of the Brandt’s showcase were mainly positive, especially when considering the decidedly grim fare offered. The critic from Brooklyn’s Times-Union thought Doctor X a “swell show.” The paper reported that the gruesome goings-on of Jackson Height’s preview had not only caused a woman in the balcony to scream in fright but that other patrons nervously called “for the lights to be turned on” midway through the program. Whether such outbursts of fright were genuine or simply publicity ballyhoo stunts may never be known. But likely more of the latter than the former.

Not everyone was impressed. Brooklyn’s Standard-Union newspaper took a contrarian view of the stage show’s ability to curdle the blood of attendees. In the paper’s review of February 10, 1931, their critic would grieve that Doctor X was a mostly undistinguished effort, “Freighted with all the dismal baggage of those lamentable pastimes known as mystery thrillers.” “Even though the authors, no pikers, have arranged almost an endless procession of synthetic horrors,” the review mercilessly continued, “spectators are no longer hoodwinked by such drowsy tidbits. No longer can an actor with an anaemic makeup or panels that slide open terrify theatergoers into submission.”

Nonetheless, and though the play opened to mixed reviews, some of the New York dailies were impressed. There were enough good notices to allow the Brandt’s to run advertisements suggesting Doctor X as “New York’s Only Mystery Hit: Electrifies Press and Public Alike!” The critic of the New York Herald Tribune thought it a grand affair, trumpeting, “’Doctor X’ holds the best claim for some time to the grand heritage of such creepy works as ‘The Bat,’ ‘The Cat and the Canary’ and ‘The Spider.’” These references to past and successful mystery-melodramas of the stage were not only interesting but prescient: all three of these theatrical properties were subsequently licensed by Hollywood studios to be brought to neighborhood movie screens. Such transitioning of properties from Broadway to Hollywood was, as referenced by the above review, not unusual.

Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood’s The Bat had made its Broadway debut at the Morosco Theatre on August 22, 1921. That play would be belatedly adapted for the screen as a vehicle for Vincent Price in 1959. John Willard’s The Cat and the Canary would debut on the boards of the Majestic Theatre on June 14, 1937, and enjoy no fewer than three film treatments: there was Paul Leni’s celebrated silent film version of 1927, a popular Bob Hope mystery-comedy of 1939, and a late-arriving 1978 British production featuring Honor Blackman, Michael Callan and Edward Fox. Fulton Oursler and Lowell Brentano’s The Spider would make two appearances on Broadway with an initial staging at Chanin’s 46^th Street Theater in March of 1927 and, again, at the Century Theater in February of 1928. That play would be brought to the big screen twice, first in 1931 as a straightforward murder mystery, then reconfigured in 1945 as a film noir-style mystery picture.

Interestingly, Lionel Atwill was working on a different Broadway stage at the same time Doctor X was concurrently running at the Hudson. Atwill was working one block north at Broadway’s Morosco Theatre, the featured player in Lee Shubert’s production of The Silent Witness (opening date 3/23/31). The Silent Witness too was quickly picked up by Fox and following that show’s Broadway run, Atwill traveled out to Hollywood to star in the play’s film version, co-directed by Marcel Varnel and R.L. Hough. Though there were reports that Lionel Atwill was to return to the New York stage directly following that film’s wrap, in early March 1932 newssheets reported that Warner Bros. had asked him to remain in Hollywood for a spell. He had been offered the title role in their recently optioned property Doctor X.

In succeeding weeks, more details would emerge of the forthcoming production. On March 17 there were reports that Michael Curtiz had been signed to direct Doctor X and that silent film star Mae Busch (“absent from pictures some years”) was also offered a small role. On March 19, the Hollywood Reporter would relate that actor Tommy Dugan had signed on for two new Warner Bros. pictures, the first being Doctor X. On March 20, it was reported that popular ingénue Fay Wray was brought on to the picture, with shooting scheduled to “begin this week.” Warner Bros/First National’s Technicolor film production of Doctor X would wrap – very quickly, considering the elaborate sets designed and constructed - in early May of 1932. The film’s projected release was set for late July.

There’s a lot to like about this film. With the release of Doctor X, Warner Bros. was most likely hoping to siphon off some of the public interest and box office that Universal was enjoying with such macabre fare as Dracula and Frankenstein. Though the studio fell short of producing an iconic film, they nevertheless produced a pretty decent B-picture that offered a modicum of thrills and chills. One of the true highlight’s of the film version of Doctor X, is the art deco “mad scientist” laboratory sets of designer Anton Grot. The sets were so elaborate and grand that the New York Herald Tribune would run a fifteen paragraph long - and impressively detailed - tribute on Grot and his designs. That article, “Built-in Menace Hangs Over All in Anton Grot’s House of Doom”), includes an unusual for the period in-depth interview with the designer. The article also notes that no fewer than “192 sketches and blueprints” of imaginative and elaborate design had been drafted in preparation for shooting.

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Latest Title in the Paramount Presents Line Debuts March 30, 2021

Legendary director Cecil B. DeMille’s grand spectacle THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH arrives for the first time on Blu-ray as part of the Paramount Presents line on March 30, 2021 from Paramount Home Entertainment.

A two-time Academy Award-winner^*–including Best Picture and Best Writing, Motion Picture Story–THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH captures the thrills, chills and exhilaration of the circus.  Featuring three intertwining plotlines filled with romance and rivalry, DeMille's film includes spectacular action sequences, including a show-stopping train wreck. THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH also boasts a sensational cast, including Betty Hutton, Cornel Wilde, Charlton Heston, Dorothy Lamour, Gloria Grahame, and James Stewart. 

Newly restored from a 4K scan of the original negative, this essential movie of the Golden Age of Hollywood packs action, romance, laughs and treachery into an epic only DeMille could create, resulting in one of 1952’s biggest hits.

The limited-edition Paramount Presents Blu-ray Discâ„¢ includes the newly restored film in collectible packaging with a foldout image of the film’s theatrical poster and an interior spread with key movie moments.  THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH Blu-ray also includes a new Filmmaker Focus with film historian Leonard Maltin, exploring the making of the film and its reception, as well as access to a Digital copy of the film.

About Paramount Presents

This collectible line spans celebrated classics to film-lover favorites, each from the studio’s renowned library.  Every Paramount Presents release features never-before-seen bonus content and exclusive collectible packaging.  There are 14 additional titles available in the Paramount Presents collection: Fatal Attraction, King Creole, To Catch a Thief, Flashdance, Days of Thunder, Pretty In Pink, Airplane!, Ghost, Roman Holiday, The Haunting, The Golden Child, Trading Places, The Court Jester and Elizabethtown.

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RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

BY LEE PFEIFFER

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

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

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

“HITCHCOCK AND HUMOR: MODES OF COMEDY IN TWELVE DEFINING FILMS” by Wes D. Gehring

(McFarland; ISBN 978-1-4766-7356-1 print; 978-1-4766-3621-4 e-book; $39.95 retail)

“THE MASTER OF DARK COMEDY”

By Raymond Benson

Just about anything with film historian and media writer Wes D. Gehring’s name on it will be of quality. A professor of telecommunications at Ball State University in Indiana and author of the regular column “The Reel World” in USA Today magazine, Gehring has distinguished himself as an expert on comedy—especially as it has been utilized in the cinema.

Among Gehring’s several books that explore humor in film are tomes on Chaplin, the Marx Brothers, Leo McCarey, Laurel and Hardy, Carole Lombard, W. C. Fields, and Frank Capra, as well as topical studies on dark comedy and screwball comedy.

Now comes Hitchcock and Humor, which evaluates the notion that the filmmaker who earned the moniker “The Master of Suspense,” is also “The Master of Dark Comedy.” Gehring makes his case by examining the humor in several of the early British pictures (Blackmail; The Man Who Knew Too Much; The 39 Steps; Secret Agent; and The Lady Vanishes), and several of the Hollywood delights (Mr. and Mrs. Smith; Shadow of a Doubt; Rope; Strangers on a Train; Rear Window; The Trouble with Harry; and North by Northwest). There is also an epilogue with brief comments on Psycho, which could very well be, as Gehring acknowledges, the most obvious example of dark humor that Hitchcock presented to an unsuspecting audience.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith, of course, is one of the filmmaker’s few blatant comedies. The picture starred Carole Lombard, about whom the author has previously written, and Gehring spends the chapter dissecting the actress’ importance to this wacky romantic comedy. A general public, however, might not immediately grasp the subtle humor displayed in the other titles, although film students and Hitchcock aficionados would surely already be aware of it. Consider this—while The 39 Steps is a riveting thriller about a wronged man on the run, it also has the hallmarks of a screwball comedy once Robert Donat meets and is handcuffed to Madeleine Carroll. The two characters are a mismatched couple thrown together by circumstances beyond their control, are initially at odds, and slowly gain affection for each other. Rope is full of gallows humor as the two killers (played by John Dall and Farley Granger) host a dinner party with the guests sitting around the “table” that is really a coffin holding their victim.

 

(The above trailer for North by Northwest amply illustrates Hitchcock's ability to blend thrills and humor.) 

As with most publications from McFarland, the book takes a scholarly approach—there is little in the way of illustrations (there are a few) and is mostly dense text (290 pages). While Hitchcock and Humor is intended for the more serious devotees of cinema and Alfred Hitchcock himself, the book is quite readable and entertaining.

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

This Valentine’s Day, give the special people in your life a gift they’re sure to love: film collections featuring their favorite movie stars.

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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 MARK CERULLI

Do sharks give you the willies? Does the sight of a 12-foot Great White on the Discovery Channel make your heart skip some beats? Then imagine a 75-foot super shark, looking like a freight train with gills! Meet the villain of the new Warner Bros. sci-fi thriller, The Meg starring Jason Statham and Chinese star, Li Bingbing.

The story concerns a Chinese-American exploration team penetrating the deepest reaches of the Pacific, cut off beneath a thermal layer. The operation’s backer, a snarky billionaire played by Rainn Wilson (TV’s The Office) is hoping to exploit the sea bottom’s mineral wealth. Unfortunately this untouched region is inhabited by a Megalodon, a gigantic prehistoric shark that makes “Bruce” (the shark from Jaws) look like a sardine. It can bend submarines and implode research pods with ease… but it meets its match in a “washed up but still heroic” rescue diver played by Jason Statham.

Directed by Jon Turteltaub (National Treasure) and made with (lots of) Chinese money, there is an obvious Chinese influence running throughout - with Chinese talent in key roles and the climax unfolding at an exotic Chinese beach resort. (There, several scenes such as a frantic mother searching for her child during the shark’s attack, or the giant shark dragging swimming platforms like flotsam are truly reminiscent of Jaws.)

Although the movie drags on the surface, it picks up speed underwater and the visual effects of the enormous shark trashing whatever technology mankind throws at it are superb. While Statham turns in his usual rugged performance (and at 51, his physique remains a work of art), Li Bingbing is lovely but a bit wooden. The dialogue tells us they’re inching towards romance but their interaction has an odd formality, with nary a kiss to be seen. Instead it falls to her precocious daughter (the wonderful Sophia Cai) to tell Statham, “My mom likes you.” As if an action movie icon like Statham needs a romantic assist from an 8 year-old!

To be fair, any shark movie made after 1975 will always be compared to the mother of all summer tentpoles, Jaws, and while The Meg does provide some thrills, it’s not better… it’s just bigger. But maybe for the “global audience” this movie is going after, that might be enough.

The Meg opens nationwide on August 10^th from Warner Bros.

(Barry Monush, author of the new book "Steven Spielberg FAQ" enlightens readers as to how the famed director inspired him to write this overview of the famed director's career.)

BY BARRY MONUSH

As it gets harder these days to find “reliables,” it’s nice to have certain filmmakers still around who have given me more pleasure than pain over the years. And even nicer when you’re given a chance to celebrate them in print. Such is the case with Steven Spielberg.

My publishers, Applause Books, were tossing around possible ideas for further volumes of their FAQ series, and I tossed back at them the suggestion of a Spielberg book. Of course it got an instant response, because absolutely everyone is aware of Steven Spielberg. You needn’t be the sort of film aficionado that follows the scene with fervent interest (i.e. readers of this website) to know he’s out there making movies and has been doing so for some 45 years with a track record of success far exceeding anyone else. When you’re pitching ideas, it helps for your topic to have a high awareness factor in order to get a book on that someone “greenlighted,” but it’s even better when the subject is worthy of the tribute.

To me, the motion picture scene since the 1970s would be inconceivable without the presence of Steven Spielberg. Some would go so far as to say he created the world of motion pictures as we know it today, which shouldn’t necessarily be taken as a high compliment. For everyone who loves the cinematic world of Steven Spielberg, there are plenty who will give you a theatrical grimace at the mere mention of his name. Trust me, I know, I’ve seen it, when people asked me what the subject was for my newest book. They either lit up or cringed. You don’t get to be that well known and that well-to-do financially without making some people a bit resentful or dismissive.

With great fame comes expectations of an unreasonable size. You can’t blow people away with the thrills of Jaws or the sense of wonder inherent in Close Encounters of the Third Kind or E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial and then make a mere “good” movie; you’re expected to score a slam dunk, a home run and a touchdown every time you’re given the ball. As a result, some very good Steven Spielberg films have been shortchanged over the years by those who wanted him to reach Olympian peaks each time they plunked their cash down at the box office. Moviegoers have pigeonholed him according to their own personal tastes and fond memories, and often have stubbornly resisted venturing with him into new territory. Much as “those wonderful people out there in the dark” are loathe to admit it, history has shown that audiences let down filmmakers far more often than filmmakers do the audience. Of course any director worth their salt is going to go in unexpected ways once in a while or try out new genres or techniques, which is what makes movie going something exciting. Believe me, if you had a mild initial response to such movies as Empire of the Sun, Amistad, or Munich, I recommend you see them again. These are all strong, impressive, moving works with something to say about the human condition. If they do not tower as highly or with as much resonance as, say, Schindler’s List, that’s to be forgiven. That’s an awful lofty peak to reach, after all.

I don’t need this constant reassurance of greatness with Spielberg or any filmmaker for that matter. I know he’s good; quite good. Even when I’ve come away disappointed from one of his efforts, I know I wasn’t watching a hack on a downward spiral, but a singular talent whose capabilities were still evident even within the missteps. Such are all the best filmmakers. And Spielberg really is one of the best. It’s been evident from the start; it was even evident in his television work, in the handful of series episodes and movies he made for the small screen before he ventured towards the larger canvas of motion pictures.

I remembered pretty vividly the segment of the Night Gallery pilot he directed long before I even realized who Steven Spielberg was. Blind Joan Crawford’s justifiable punishment for her abominable behavior was dramatized in a lean but eerie fashion: her sight is restored for a brief period only to find herself waking up during a New York blackout. Her accidental stumble through a window was dramatized by dropping a plate of glass and watching it shatter in slow motion. A great touch. Watching the segment again, all these years later, there’s nothing in this credit to suggest that its director had never before taken on a professional directing job prior to this, nor that he had only recently turned 22 years of age. His work was that of a professional with decades of experience behind him.

BY DANIEL SAVINO

Although their characters have become iconic, the now classic fantasy monster films of Universal Studios have suffered a reputation of creakiness, cheap thrills, poor characterization and logic gaps. While the images of Bela Lugosi’s Dracula, Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein monster, and Elsa Lanchester’s Bride of Frankenstein dominate magazine covers, notebooks, posters, mugs and other collectibles, the series of movies that introduced these characters seems to get very little respect from film historians. A step in the right direction to correct this is the excellent new book The Monster Movies of Universal Studios by James L. Neibaur, published by Rowman and Littlefield. In this fascinating new study, the author puts Universal’s horror series into proper historical context. Unlike other books on the subject, Neibaur has limited his focus to films that feature one or more of Universal’s line-up of monsters. This book concentrates on the classic era, with the range of focus highlighting movies from 1931 through 1956. Any movie made by Universal Studios during this period with Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, the Mummy, the Invisible Man, the Wolf Man and the Creature from the Black Lagoon is discussed in-depth with a chapter devoted to each feature, twenty nine movies in all. These include all of the sequels and films that blended fantasy and comedy elements when Universal paired up their monsters with their house comedy duo Abbott and Costello. The book is an impressive work of film scholarship and shines a spotlight on classic Hollywood moviemaking by looking at one of the longest film series at a major studio.

Readers disappointed that Neibaur didn’t discuss such mystery and horror offerings from Universal during this period such as The Old Dark House and Murders in the Rue Morgue (both 1932) shouldn’t be. The focus on the monsters makes the book a one- of- a- kind study devoted to characters that seem to always be taken for granted. While Edgar G. Ulmer’s The Black Cat (1934) is celebrated for it’s daring, unconventional storyline, the films that feature the monsters seem to get lumped in with low budget movies from a later era. In fact, movies such as The Invisible Man (1933), The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and Dracula’s Daughter (1936) share more in common with The Black Cat than just being made at the same studio. The author restores these films to their proper place as valuable works of cinematic art.

This isn’t to say that when there are jumps in narrative logic, especially evident in the later movies, Neibaur doesn’t point them out. However, even these assembly line B films are given more respect in this book then in previous studies of the Universal genre catalog. The usual pattern of writers discussing movies made during the Great Depression and World War II is to highlight the escapism and lighthearted nature that many of those films exhibit. Examples that prove this pattern include the Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers cycle at RKO, the Topper films, etc. In this work Neibaur presents a different argument- that the monster series presented something very real to fight against, a threat that personified the evils of economic crisis and foreign fascism. Given this argument, it is somewhat less hard to believe that the horror series at Universal would decline in popularity after the war ended.

In addition to the nation’s and the world’s economy fluctuating during the time of the Monster films covered in this book, it was also true that there were money problems at Universal as well. First, Universal founder Carl Laemmle Sr. borrowed too heavily and lost control of the studio. It was then decided at that time that the horror series would continue as B films, relegated to a more factory mode of filmmaking. Whereas Universal’s monster series began with cinematic artists such as Tod Browning and James Whale helming Dracula and Frankenstein (both 1931), the series ended with Jean Yarbrough directing She-Wolf of London (1946) in a decidedly non-flourished way, with cost cutting in mind. The contrast couldn’t be more evident as She-Wolf is a film with a Scooby-Doo like ending, a far cry from the earlier films that embraced supernatural elements such as vampirism, invisibility, lycanthropy or fantastic science that brought life to the dead through lightning or tana leaves. It’s interesting to note that when the B movie factory mode of the series finally ran its course, a happy ending was not in the cards.

BY HANK REINEKE

Though heavyweights Columbia and Universal produced as many serials as Republic Pictures from 1929-1956, the latter studio is generally best known for its exciting sound-era chapter-plays.  Universal and the less widely known Mascot Pictures were in the game the earliest; both studios began releasing their sound serials in 1929. Mascot would only last six years or so. Universal – choosing to concentrate exclusively on the production of feature films – effectively got out of the serial business in 1946. Republic and Columbia hung on to the production of chapter-plays the longest; they released their final serials in 1955 and 1956, respectively.

Republic wasn’t only a serials factory. The studio was in the low budget feature filmmaking business as well, busily churning out a dizzying array of westerns, adventure pictures, and mysteries. They would test the box-office potentials of the horror film market during the 1940s with limited success. As a second-tier “Poverty Row” studio, Republic would enjoy a less distinguished track record in the horror film realm than, say, Monogram Pictures. The latter studio would occasionally tap the talents of such moonlighting film ghouls as Bela Lugosi, John Carradine, George Zucco, and Lionel Atwill. Dutifully exploiting the popular culture trends of the day, Republic would soon move into the production sci-fi serials beginning with King of the Rocket Men (1949). In the next five years the studio would knock out a number of similar themed serials with The Invisible Monster (1950), Flying Disc Man from Mars (1951), Radar Men from the Moon (1952), and Zombies of the Stratosphere (1952).

Lee Sholem’s Tobor The Great (1954), now out on Blu Ray from Kino-Lorber Studio Classics, was one of Republic’s earliest non-serial feature films of the “Silver Age” of Sci-Fi. Though more of a timepiece curiosity than a great film, old-school sci-fi fans – at least those with long memories - will welcome Tobor The Great as a valuable addition to their private collection. The year 1954 was, to be sure, a good one for devotees of sci-fi cinema. Disney’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea managed to garner the studio two Academy Awards. Universal unleashed The Creature from the Black Lagoon in glorious 3-D and, not to be outdone, Warner Bros. released a swarm of giant radioactive ants collectively known as Them! on the city of Los Angeles. Tobor The Great is not even remotely as entertaining nor well crafted as the three above mentioned films, but it’s arguably no better or worse than such other 1954 efforts as Devil Girl from Mars or Roger Corman’s Monster from the Ocean Floor.

It’s obvious that Republic’s target audience for Tobor The Great was the juvenile market. We’re introduced early on to Brian “Gadge” Roberts (Billy Chapin), a ten year old whiz kid who is a prodigal student of mathematics and the sciences. We soon learn that young Brian’s proclivities for the disciplines are at least partly inherited. The boy and his mother Janice (Karen Booth) have been living comfortably in the home of his maternal grandfather ever since the boy’s father had been killed while serving in Korea.

Gadge’s grandfather happens to be the kindly Professor Arnold Nordstrom (Taylor Holmes), a research scientist working for the C.I.F.C., an acronym for the Civil Interplanetary Flight Commission. The commission’s principal concern is with helping guarantee America’s front-runner status in space travel, rocketry, and guided missile launches. The professor, an expert in astrophysics and aerodynamics, studiously labors away in a secreted wine cellar repurposed as a modern subterranean experimental laboratory.

BY TIM GREAVES

Titling a film is no trivial matter, especially from a marketing perspective. As history has proven, there have been numerous films made which have little more to offer than a cracking title. A really sharp one can help sell the poorest product, conversely a stellar piece of movie-making can be undermined by something uninspired. When you're trying to make your movie stand out in a marketplace awash with alternatives, an attention-grabbing title is a crucial consideration and you'll probably be aiming for something that harbours intrigue, allure, and is capable of fostering curiosity and anticipation. When it was first unleashed theatrically in 1985, Howling II: Stirba – Werewolf Bitch was certainly an attention-grabber. Whether the film itself turned out to be good, bad or indifferent, as enticing titles go the suffix Stirba – Werewolf Bitch sure did the job, sending out a premium come and see me you know you want to invitation with the promise of a no-nonsense serving of lycanthropic flesh-munching and raunchy bodice-ripping, elements on which it most certainly delivered. So, given that said title was suitably efficacious, one has to wonder why someone later thought it was a good idea to alter it to Your Sister is a Werewolf, a moniker conveying more than a whiff of lightweight teen comedy – perhaps something akin to the same year's Michael J Fox headliner Teen Wolf – as opposed to that of spicy horror movie. C'est la vie.

Following the funeral of his sister Karen, Ben White (Reb Brown) is approached by occult scholar Steffan Crosscoe (Christopher Lee), who informs him that his sibling was a werewolf and submitted herself willingly to death. Dismissing these claims as balderdash, White's scepticism is quashed when he witnesses a werewolf attack first hand. Crosscoe subsequently tells White that the 10th Millennium of lycanthrope queen Stirba (Sybil Danning) is imminent and on that night, beneath the glow of a full moon, all werewolves will reveal themselves. To avert this catastrophe Stirba must die. White and journalist Jenny Templeton (Annie McEnroe) set off with Crosscoe to Transylvania to seek out the location of Stirba's coven and destroy her. However, Crosscoe is withholding a personal reason for wanting the werewolf queen dead.

Any sequel to Joe Dante's 1981 epic The Howling was going to be facing an uphill struggle in terms of emulating its verve and director Philippe Mora's Howling II: Your Sister is a Werewolf certainly lives up to expectation on that account. Which isn't to imply for one moment that it isn't entertaining; there's a lot of fun to be had here, even if much of it is of the so-bad-it's-good variety. The draw here for many viewers will be the significant participation of Christopher Lee. For such an erudite man, Lee made some curious film choices throughout his long and varied career; one supposes that in such a competitive profession – and one burdened by rife unemployment – regardless of how demeaning it might be work was work. Howling II wasn't among Lee’s more questionable judgment calls but neither is it up there among the myriad of cherries populating his CV. Regardless, consummate professional that he was, he never gave less than 100% and with Howling II he brings a degree of gravitas and worth to a film whose biggest crime is not so much being bad as being rather unremarkable. Given what Lee brings to the show, it's a shame that co-stars Reb Brown and Annie McEnroe prove so unengaging. It would be easy to blame the slightly hackneyed dialogue – the script was a collaborative effort between Gary Brandner (who also authored a number of “Howling” novels) and Robert Sarno – but when you consider that Lee managed to work his lines into something halfway decent that's not really a valid excuse. The odd thing is that both Brown and McEnroe are competent enough performers, as can be witnessed in some of their other films, so quite why they’re so ineffectual here is frankly baffling. Regardless, any shortcomings are compensated for by fine turns from the striking Sybil Danning in the titular Stirba/sister role, Judd Omen as her swarthy aide Vlad and a sizzling Marsha A Hunt (who's hotter than a jalapeño both in and out of her clothing). Brief but noteworthy input too from Jimmy Nail and Ferdy Mayne, although the latter's transformation into beast of the night is memorable for the wrong reason, his freaky but unthreatening make-up and the fact he's wearing a flat cap combining to provoke inadvertent chuckles.

BY MARK CERULLI

The trailer tells you everything you need to know about “The Belko Experiment”, writer James Gunn’s bloody trip to the dark side of the corporate workspace. You know there’s going to be a serious body count… you know there’s going to be some wicked humor… and you know that somewhere you’re going to see Michael Rooker. But HOW things unfold is what makes Belko such an entertaining ride. Think “Office Space” meets “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”…

Aptly directed by Greg McLean (“Wolf Creek”), “The Belko Experiment” chronicles a (final) day in the life of the staff of a rather bland American company set up on the outskirts of Bogota, Colombia. It’s a typical workday until an anonymous intercom voice tells them they have two hours to kill thirty of their co-workers or sixty of them will be “sacrificed”. The execs laugh it off as a prank - until the back of a staffer’s head explodes, thanks to an “anti-kidnapping” locator they’ve all had implanted. Soon Belko descends into “Lord of the Flies”, for real. Factions form, alliances are made and friendships are erased by the basic urge to survive. The movie is helped along by a terrific cast which blends relative newcomers with seasoned pros: John Gallagher, Jr. plays a workplace everyman trying to stop the carnage and protect his colleague/girlfriend (lovely Adria Arjona). Tony Goldwyn is outstanding as Belko’s COO who morphs from cool boss to killing machine so he can make it home to his wife and kids. He doesn’t want to kill his direct reports… he just has to. John C. McGinly is deliciously evil as a leering workplace creep who methodically tries to raise his “body count” using a meat cleaver. And yes, Michael Rooker is short but sweet as Belko’s stoic maintenance man trying to find a way out of the hermetically sealed building.

It’s a testament to writer/producer James Gunn’s growing power in Hollywood that this film is getting a wide theatrical release in today’s megabuck franchise landscape. “The Belko Experiment “feels like a 1990s action/horror film, which is a good thing: in the 1980s and 90s, small, entertaining genre films routinely got theatrical releases – great movies like “Surviving The Game”, “Trespass” and “Southern Comfort” all delivered the thrills audiences wanted without costing tens of millions to produce. Most of them actually made a profit, unlike today when almost every big budget release is a huge gamble - James Bond, Star Wars and Guardians franchises excepted! Today those small 1980s/90s movies would be relegated to streaming or other platforms if they found a distributor at all.

After the special “Employee Appreciation Day” screening Cinema Retro attended in Santa Monica, key cast and crewmembers talked about making the film. Fanboy favorite James Gunn said he wrote the script in a “two week fugue state” of 18-hour days. John C. McGinley commented that what drew him to the script was the fact that “the choices each character made determined their survival.” He drew a parallel to 9-11 as his brother worked in the Twin Towers and when an anonymous PA voice told his floor to stay put after the first plane hit, he and other colleagues knew enough to immediately take the stairs to safety. On a lighter note, Tony Goldwyn admitted that, as an actor, he wanted in after reading a script that featured exploding heads!

In person, Gunn is amiable and funny and managed to carve out a little time for fans, many of who showed up with bits of “Guardians of the Galaxy” memorabilia to be signed. Other cast members posed with attendees and all the actors seemed genuinely happy to see each other for the first time since their Bogota shoot. It made for a surprisingly happy ending after 90 minutes of onscreen carnage.

The Belko Experiment opens nationwide on March 17^th. Be prepared to never look at a tape dispenser the same way…

BY RICH DREES

Roger Corman's work both as a director and a producer has often been characterized as exploitation, quickly and cheaply produced product that promised some cheap thrills – be they violence or sex – for the theater-goers' admission. It was certainly not an accusation he would ever shy away from. But that didn't mean that he didn't ensure that there wasn't at least a certain level of craft to be found in his films. And sometimes, even a bit of art sneaks through the process.

Such is the case with “Boxcar Bertha,” the second feature from filmmaker Martin Scorsese. Corman was looking for something that could serve somewhat as a sequel to his recently released “Bloody Mama” when his wife discovered the fictional account of a woman who rode the rails of the South during the Depression. The story and resultant film had more than a few echoes of Arthur Penn's “Bonnie And Clyde” and while Corman has never admitted that this was the case in this instance, he has been known to surf the wave of another film's popularity all the way to the shore.

While the film's Deep South- during- the- Depression setting is a far cry from Scorsese's Little Italy New York City upbringing, he certainly works hard to make the film his own. Although a bit rough around the edges – the first couple of minutes features a somewhat jarring sound effect miscue when a plane lands in a grassy field accompanied by the sound of tires screeching on concrete and the film boasts two different title sequences for some reason – it is easy to see Scorsese starting to define elements that he will work with throughout his career. The film's story is somewhat episodic, a feature of his next film, 1973's “Mean Streets.” Examining the psyches and characters of those on the opposite side of the law is a tendency that was probably engendered in Scorsese by the Warner Brothers crime films and socially conscious dramas of the 1930s that he has stated his love for in the past. And the film's climactic crucifixion certainly had to appeal to the Catholic in him, even if it the Christ imagery isn't set up in anyway in the preceding eighty-some minutes. (Incidentally, it was during the “Boxcar Bertha” location shoot in Arkansas that star Barbara Hershey gave Scorsese a copy of Nikos Kazantzakis' novel “The Last Temptation of Christ” which he adapted to some controversy in 1988.)

 

Of course, there are the requisite exploitation elements. Gun fights break at with the required regular intervals and a train explosively slams into a car left on some tracks at one point. And of course there's some nudity. By all accounts, Scorsese was irritated that some nudity had to be inserted into his first feature, “Who's That Knocking At My Door?” (1967), in order to get a distribution deal. Here, when both Hershey and David Carradine as her labor leader-turned-bank robber lover lose their clothes, it feels somewhat casual, perhaps an influence of the European cinema Scorsese is also a fan of. It certainly doesn't live up to the expectations set by the stars who claimed in a Playboy interview at the time of the film's release that their love making scenes were real and not simulated.

Twilight Time's Blu-ray transfer of “Boxcar Bertha” is a solid looking 1080p transfer. The disc doesn't come with too much else besides some rather exuberant liner notes by film historian Julie Kirgo and an isolated score soundtrack movie music fans should appreciate. Those who complain that modern trailers give away too much of the film that they are advertising will be dismayed to see that the practice was alive and well in 1972 with the “Boxcar Bertha” trailer included here. (This release is limited to only 3,000 units.)

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

I recently wrote in relation to a review of "The Big Show" that circus movies have gone the way of the Model T. You can add to that another genre of film that used to be a Hollywood staple- the safari movies in which the hero was a great white hunter. Changing social attitudes make it unlikely we'd ever again cheer some rock-jawed leading man as he unloads some hi caliber bullets into a grazing elephant or a lazing hippo. The last word on such films was Clint Eastwood's woefully underrated (and woefully under-seen) 1990 film "White Hunter, Black Heart", which was loosely based on the hunting obsessions of director John Huston during production of "The African Queen". Nevertheless, jungle-themed adventures are still the stuff of cinematic thrills in the minds of retro movie lovers. One of the best is "Rampage", a 1963 opus directed by Phil Karlson and based on a novel by actor/screenwriter Alan Caillou. Robert Mitchum stars as Harry Stanton, known in zoological circles as the world's most eminent tracker of wild game. The Wilhelm Zoo in Germany makes him a proposition: they will finance his trip to Malaysia to track down and capture the Enchantress, a legendary one-of-a-kind animal that is said to be half-leopard and half-tiger. Part of the deal is that Harry must also return with two tigers. Harry is told he will be traveling with Otto Abbot (Jack Hawkins), an internationally famed hunter of exotic prey. Harry is invited to meet Otto at his opulent home which is unsurprisingly decorated with trophies of his more notable expeditions into the wild. However, Harry's eye goes immediately to Abbot's girlfriend Anna (Elsa Martinelli), an exotic beauty many years younger than Otto. It's clear that Abbot takes great pride in his relationship with Anna and he enjoys seeing Harry looking at her with pangs of desire. It turns out that Anna was a young girl of fourteen who had no family and who was facing a harsh life on the streets. Harry "adopted" her, presumably for humanitarian reasons but, in fact, he was grooming her to be his lover. Out of gratitude for the opulent life Abbot has afforded her, she has complied even though it is clear she would rather have a relationship with another man. It only takes a moment for she and Harry to lock eyes before both of them realize they are drawn to each other. 

At first the journey to Malaysia goes well enough. While Harry personally loathes the killing of exotic animals, he respects Abbot for his achievements. However, en route to their destination, it becomes clear to Abbot that Harry and Anna are becoming increasingly flirtatious. He even tells her that she has his permission to have a fling with Harry as long as it's a short-term affair and she continues to regard him as her "real" lover. However, Harry and Anna aren't interested in a quickie sexual thrill...both of them want to build a relationship. Things become more tense when they arrive in Malaysia and begin hunting the tigers and the Enchantress. Abbot attempts to kill a a charging rhino and finds it takes him two shots to do so, which apparently is a no-no in the world of big game hunting. The failure to bag the rhino with one shot becomes a metaphor for Harry's diminishing virility. To prove he still has what it takes, he foolishly attempts to capture the Enchantress in a cave and ends up being badly mauled. It falls to Harry to capture the beast. By the time the group is back in Germany, tensions are raw. Both Harry and Anna admit that they did make love and Anna tells Abbot that, while she respects him, she has never loved him. Driven to madness at the thought of losing Anna, Abbot lures Harry into the storage room where the Enchantress is locked in a cage. He frees the animal with the expectation that it will kill Harry but, instead the beast leaps from the train and hides somewhere in Berlin. With an all-out hunt on for the dangerous animal, the film predictably finds Harry, Abbot and Anna facing off against each other as well as the Enchantress.  

"Rampage" is certainly dated. It's the kind of movie where the two male antagonists-to-be dress in tuxedos for their initial meeting and drink cocktails while the leading lady saunters about the house in a lavish gown. However, the movie was ahead of its time in terms of addressing the issue of animal conservation. The film makes a poignant plea through Mitchum's character to stop the wholesale annihilation of entire species. In that respect, the film joins only two others from this era that spring into mind that were similarly-themed: John Huston's "The Roots of Heaven" (1958) and Ivan Tors' "Rhino!" (1964). Despite intelligent direction by Phil Karlson and a compelling screenplay, the movie exists to showcase its three glamorous stars. Mitchum is solid as the thinking man's tough guy, Hawkins is old world elegance and superficial charm and Martinelli has the kind of traditional sex siren persona that is all but invisible in today's film industry. The movie also benefits from some exotic locations (apparently filmed in Hawaii, not Africa) and an impressive score by Elmer Bernstein (even if the title track sounds like a combination of Monty Norman's theme for "Call Me Bwana" combined with "The Banana Boat Song".) There's even an appearance by Sabu as a guide for the hunting expedition. The movie is unusually frank for its day in its treatment of sex. Mitchum and Martinelli practically undress each other with their eyes and this aspect lends increasing tension to the inevitable mano a mano showdown between rivals Mitchum and Hawkins. "Rampage" is largely off the radar screens of retro movie lovers but that's all the more reason why the DVD release through the Warner Archive is highly recommended. (Note: the DVD contains no extras but is region-free.)

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

In the estimation of many film scholars the 1970s was the most adventurous and liberating period in the history of the medium. The new freedoms in regard to sex, violence and adult themes that had exploded in the mid-1960s became even more pronounced in the '70s. Among the most daring studios to take advantage of this trend was United Artists. The studio had been conceived by iconic actors in the silent era with the intent of affording artists as much creative control over their productions as possible. UA had continued to fulfill that promise, producing a jaw-dropping number of box-office hits and successful film franchises. The studio also disdained censorship and pushed the envelope with high profile movie productions. The daring decision to fund the X-rated "Midnight Cowboy" paid off handsomely. The 1969 production had not only been a commercial success but also won the Best Picture Oscar. A few years later UA went even further out on a limb by distributing "Last Tango in Paris". The studio fully capitalized on the worldwide sensation the movie had made and the many attempts to restrict it from being shown at all in certain areas of the globe. Like "Midnight Cowboy", "Tango" was an important film by an important director that used graphic images of sexual activity for dramatic intensity. Unfortunately, not every filmmaker who was inspired by these new freedoms succeeded in the attempt to mainstream X-rated fare during those years that the rating wasn't only synonymous with low-budget porno productions. Case in point: screenwriter John Byrum, who made his directorial debut with "Inserts", a bizarre film that UA released in 1975 that became a legendary bomb. The movie has been released on Blu-ray by Twilight Time as a limited edition (3,000 units). 

The claustrophobic tale resembles a filmed stage production. It is set primarily in one large living room in a decaying Hollywood mansion. The time period is the 1930s, shortly after the introduction of sound to the movie industry resulted in the collapse of silent pictures (Charlie Chaplin being the notable exception.) The central character, played by Richard Dreyfuss, is not named but is referred to as "The Boy Wonder". From our first glimpse of him we know we are seeing a man in trouble. He is unkempt, dressed in a bathrobe and swizzling booze directly from the bottle. We will soon learn that he was once a respected mainstream director of major studio films and was revered by Hollywood royalty. Now he is a has-been who has resorted to making porn movies in 16mm in his own home. (Yes, Virginia, people liked to watch dirty movies even way back then.) He is entertaining a visitor, Harlene (Veronica Cartwright), a perpetually cheery,  bubble-headed young woman who was once a respected actress but who, like Boy Wonder, has fallen on hard times. She is now a heroin addict who earns a living by "starring" in Boy Wonder's porn productions. They make small talk and some names from the current movie business are bandied about. Harlene tells Boy Wonder that a rising star named Clark Gable is said to be an admirer of his and wants to meet him. Instead of responding favorably to this news, Boy Wonder seems unnerved by it. The implication is that he is locked in a self-imposed downward spiral and lacks the self-confidence to attempt a real comeback. Harlene also needles him about his sexual prowess. It turns out that the king of porn films has long been impotent for reasons never explained.  As they prepare to film some scenes Harlene's male "co-star" (Stephen Davies) arrives. He is nicknamed Rex, The Wonder Dog, which seems to bother him especially when the Wonder Boy uses it to intentionally disparage him. Like Harlene, Rex is short on brains but is physically attractive. Boy Wonder seems to have a real resentment towards him, perhaps because Rex is a powerhouse in bed while he can't get anything going despite directing naked people in sex scenes. It becomes clear that if Boy Wonder and Rex don't like each other. Boy Wonder ridicules Rex for performing sex acts on male studio executives who he naively believes will help him become a star. However, their relationship looks downright friendly compared to the interaction between Harlene and Rex. When Rex is a little slow in becoming physically aroused, Harlene mocks him mercilessly. This results in him essentially subjecting her to a violent rape which thrills Boy Wonder, who captures it all on film. Harlene doesn't appear to be any worse for the wear, however, and blithely says she's going off to a bedroom to rest. 

The household is next visited by mobster Big Mac (Bob Hoskins), the man who finances Boy Wonder's film productions. He is accompanied by his financee Cathy Cake (Jessica Harper), a pretty young woman who seems to have a particular interest in the forbidden world of pornography. Big Mac and Boy Wonder also hate each other. Big Mac berates Boy Wonder for making his porn flicks too esoteric and artistic for their intended audiences who just want a cheap thrill. However, for Boy Wonder the porn films represent the last opportunity he has to demonstrate the cinematic style and camera angles that once impressed critics and the public. In the midst of their arguing, it is discovered that a tragedy has occurred: Harlene has died from a heroin overdose. Everyone seems nonplussed by the news and Big Mac's only concern is to ditch the body somewhere quickly. Turns out Rex has a part time job in a funeral parlor and can arrange for a gruesome plan in which they dump her body inside a grave that is being prepared for another person's funeral the next day. The plan is to dig a bit deeper, bury Harlene, then place a layer of dirt over her and have the "new" body placed on top of hers. As Big Mac and Rex leave to "undertake" this sordid task, Boy Wonder finds himself alone with Cathy Cake. She wants to use the time to have Boy Wonder film her in her own personal porn movie since Big Mac would never let his "fiancee" do so with his knowledge. She finds the idea of sex on film to be a stimulant but Boy Wonder won't have any of it. He knows that Big Mac's volatile temper and ever present bodyguard could result in him being the next corpse in the house. Cathy Cake tries another tactic and feigns interest in Boy Wonder. He lets his guard down and gradually is seduced by her. She even manages to cure his impotence but the tryst turns ugly when she learns he has not filmed it. Boy Wonder soon discovers that his renewed pride and self-respect is to be short-lived when it becomes clear that Cathy Cake actually loathes him and was only using him in order to fulfill her porn movie fantasy. The ploy works to a degree- her attention to Boy Wonder reawakens his sexual prowess but when she learns the camera wasn't rolling, she cruelly tells him that she only used him for selfish purposes. With this, Big Mac and Rex return from their horrendous errand and catch Boy Wonder in bed with Cathy Cake. The situation becomes dangerous with Big Mac threatening to kill Boy Wonder and things only deteriorate from there. 

According to the informative liner notes by Julie Kirgo that accompany the Blu-ray, Richard Dreyfuss seemed to have a personal obsession with this film. He was very involved in all aspects of its production and remained defensive about the movie after its harsh reception from critics. The movie's complete rejection by reviewers and the public might have hurt his career but Dreyfuss already had "American Graffiti" and "Jaws" under his belt. Soon he would also star in another blockbuster, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" followed by his Oscar-winning performance in "The Goodbye Girl". The fact that so few people ever saw "Interiors" actually worked to his advantage. However, whatever motivated him to become involved in this bizarre project remains a mystery. It's an ugly tale about ugly people doing ugly things to each other. If there is a message here, I didn't receive it. There isn't a single character you can identify with or sympathize with. They are all self-obsessed cynics with no redeeming traits. That leaves us with whatever values the performances afford us and it's a mixed bag. Dreyfuss is miscast. He was twenty nine years-old when he made the film and, despite his sordid appearance which ages him considerably, he is still far too young to portray a once-great movie director who has fallen on hard times. John Byrum's direction of Dreyfuss is unsteady. At times he encourages him to underplay scenes while at other times he has Dreyfuss chew the scenery mercilessly. Similarly, Stephen Davies plays the brain-dead hunk Rex with flamboyantly gay characteristics one minute then suddenly transforms into a heterosexual stud the next. Bob Hoskins in what would become his trademark tough-guy gangster mode but gives a solid performance. The best acting comes from the two female leads with Veronica Cartwright especially good as the ill-fated Harlene. Jessica Harper also does well in her thankless role. Both women seem at ease in doffing their clothes and playing much of their scenes in a provocative state. Cartwright even goes full frontal for the violent sex scene with Rex while Harper spends almost the entire last act of the film being photographed topless. Curiously, the willingness to appear nude onscreen was considered the epitome of female emancipation in films during the 1970s but the practice  has largely become frowned upon in more recent years. In fact the days are long gone when virtually every major actress had to appear naked on screen. Today, female emancipation is the ability to play erotic scenes on screen without having to be completely compromised.  

BY TIM GREAVES

(The following reviews pertain to the UK Region 2 releases) 

When I'm in the right mood I adore bit of film noir. I admire the diversity of its storytelling, I love every facet, from the hardboiled private eyes, duplicitous dames and characters that seldom turn out to be what they first appear, to the alleyways bathed in inky shadows, ramshackle apartments and half-lit street corners they inhabit. How can you not get drawn in by the sheer delight of Edward G Robinson playing a second rate psychic trying to convince the authorities he can see the future in The Night Has a Thousand Eyes? Or amnesiac John Hodiak on a mission to discover his own identity, in the process getting embroiled in a 3-year-old murder case and the search for a missing $2 million in Somewhere in the Night? Yes, indeed, there's nothing quite like a hearty serving of film noir on a Sunday afternoon to soothe those end-of-the-weekend blues.

Newly released to dual format Blu-ray and DVD in the UK – carefully restored by UCLA Film and Television Archive following several years of sleuthing by the Film Noir Foundation – are a couple real crackers. I'd seen neither before but both have quickly found a spot among my favourites.

First up is 1949 United Artists picture Too Late for Tears (also known under the re-release moniker Killer Bait), directed by Byron Haskin from a Roy Huggins
story (first serialised in the 'Saturday Evening Post'). The plot hinges on a bag packed with an ill-gotten $60,000 worth of banknotes. Husband and wife Alan and Jane Palmer (Arthur Kennedy and Lizabeth Scott) are drawn into a deadly game when someone in a passing car hurls a briefcase full of cash into the back of their open top saloon – cash so hot it's "a bag o' dynamite", as Alan sagely recognises it. He’s insistent that they hand it over to the cops, but Jane is having none of it; their ship has come in and she intends to hop aboard. Initially she swings Alan round to her way of thinking but it's not long before the intended recipient of the money (Dan Duryea) shows up to claim it back. Jane, tougher than she at first seemed, is determined to keep it even if doing so means resorting to murder.

Despite striking support from the slinky Kristine Miller and an urbane Don DeFore, this is 100% Lizabeth Scott's parade. She's breathtaking as the ice cold blonde schemestress with a loaded shooter in one hand and a clutch bag full of seductive ploys in the other; as femme fatales go they don't come much wilier. Huggins' script is awash with mistrust and the razor sharp repartee born thereof: "Looking for something?"/"My lipstick"/"Colt or Smith & Wesson?". The twists come thick and fast as Jane's scruples, if ever she had any, are casually discarded as she calculatingly works to finagle the cash. With a sucker punch of a final twist that doles out the roughest of justice, Too Late for Tears is a little gem.

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Next up, a Universal Pictures release: Norman Foster's San Francisco based Woman on the Run, a tad lighter in tone but equally gripping. Out walking his dog one night, artist Frank Johnson (Ross Elliott) witnesses a murder – but the killer sees him too. With little faith in police witness protection, Johnson does a runner. Believing that he's really trying to escape their failing marriage, Frank's wife Eleanor (Ann Sheridan) sets out to find him. Assisted by intrepid reporter Dan Legget (Dennis O'Keefe), eager to scoop a front page exclusive, Eleanor follows a trail of clues that reveal things about Frank she never knew, all the while dodging the police (who believe she'll lead them to her husband, the only person who can identify the killer), and blindly unaware she’s being watched by the killer himself, intent on eliminating the sole witness to his crime.

Working from a screenplay he co-wrote with Alan Campbell, Foster (who went on to direct episodes of Batman and The Green Hornet for television) keeps the action moving along at a fair old lick, never afraid to punctuate the mood with a splash of comic relief; the Johnson's dog is called Rembrandt, because "It's the nearest we’ll come to owning one". Although it initially feels like folly when the story’s ace twist is played midway point, it’s in fact a very shrewd move; arming the audience with such vital knowledge serves to ratchet up the suspense thereafter to almost unbearable levels. Boasting some fantastic San Francisco location work and climaxing amidst the after-dark amusement park thrills of Santa Monica's Ocean Park Pier (a finale which delivers squalling tension to rival the theme park located climax to Hitchcock classic Strangers on a Train, released the following year), if you dip into only one noir thriller this year, be sure that it's 24-carat keeper Woman on the Run.

 

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Cinema Retro mourns the loss of director Guy Hamilton, who has passed away at age 93. Guy was an old friend and supporter of our magazine and a wonderful talent and raconteur. Hamilton, though British by birth, spent much of his life in France. After WWII, he entered the film industry in England and served as assistant director to Sir Carol Reed, working on the classic film "The Third Man". He also served as AD on John Huston's "The African Queen". Gradually, he moved up the ladder to director and helmed such films as "An Inspector Calls", "The Colditz Story" and "The Devil's Disciple", the latter starring Burt Lancaster, Kirk Douglas and Laurence Olivier. In 1964 Hamilton was hired to direct the third James Bond film "Goldfinger" and made cinema history. Hamilton found the perfect blend of humor and thrills and the film started the era of Bondmania that would see Sean Connery boosted to the status of international superstar.  He also directed the Michael Caine spy thriller "Funeral in Berlin" for Bond producer Harry Saltzman in 1967. He worked once again for Saltzman on the ambitious epic WWII film "Battle of Britain" in 1969, a highly complex film to make given the logistics of recreating dogfights in the skies over England.

Bond producers Saltzman and Cubby Broccoli reached out to Guy Hamilton again in 1971 to direct "Diamonds Are Forever", the film that marked Sean Connery's return to the James Bond series after a four year absence. The film was an enormous success but it also initiated a swing toward more overt humor, which reflected Hamilton's personal vision of the series. When this writer asked him over a dinner in London many years ago if he felt that the increase in jokes and gags was an artistic mistake, Hamilton insisted it was not, although he acknowledged that he had probably alienated some of the more traditional Bond fans. In fact, Hamilton said that his initial plans for the script of "Diamonds Are Forever" would have seen Bond in Disneyland battling SPECTRE agents dressed as famous Disney characters. Hamilton's emphasis on laughs in the Bond films perfectly paved the way for the Roger Moore era which began in 1973 with "Live and Let Die".  Hamilton was retained to direct that film as well. Moore agreed with Hamilton's emphasis on overt humor and that angle would largely define the Moore films which lasted through "A View to a Kill" in 1985. Hamilton would direct Moore's second Bond film, "The Man With the Golden Gun" in 1974. He was initially scheduled to direct "The Spy Who Loved Me" but due to his residency in France, tax complications ensued regarding his ability to work for an extended period in England. Ultimately, Lewis Gilbert directed the film. Hamilton's post-Bond era movies included the Agatha Christie thrillers "The Mirror Crack'd" and "Evil Under the Sun", as well as "Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins" and "Force Ten From Navarone". Of the latter, I once asked him if the disappointing movie went wrong during filming. Characteristically, Hamilton told me that it had a lousy script from day one and he knew it would be a lousy movie. However, he was winding down his involvement in the film industry and agreed to do the movie because the producers purchased a beautiful home for him in Spain. He said it was truly "an offer I couldn't refuse". 

As age took its toll, Hamilton made fewer trips outside of Spain. However a few years ago, Cinema Retro's Dave Worrall and Gareth Owen accompanied Hamilton to an outdoor screening of "Goldfinger" in London. He had the satisfaction of seeing how well received his movie was even after half a century. Guy Hamilton was the epitome of the British gentleman and a skilled filmmaker as well. His contributions to the movie industry, and the James Bond series in particular, are secure in film history.  

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

"The Strangler" is a long-forgotten 1964 low-budget exploitation movie originally released by Allied Artists. It has developed a bit of a cult following among retro movie lovers who will be delighted that the film has come to DVD through the Warner Archive. The movie was designed to capitalize on the notorious Boston Strangler murders that were in the news at the time. However, what sets the movie apart from other cheap thrills productions is the fact that it is intelligently scripted and presents its villain as a highly complex character, filled with nuances and psychological tortures.  Victor Buono, who had made a sensational film debut the previous year in "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?", gets a rare starring role as the titular character. He's Leo Kroll, a meek, obese young man who barely makes a living as a lab assistant in big city hospital. He's quiet, unassuming and superficially friendly even though he has no real friends in his life. Our first glimpse of Leo is rather startling. We see him inside the apartment of an attractive young woman who is undressing, not knowing that she has a stalker on the premises. Leo suddenly emerges and strangles her with her own stockings. We learn that Leo is behind similar serial murders of young women in the area but the police are at a dead end. Leo's private life is pure hell. He lives with his aging mother (Ellen Corby) who controls virtually every aspect of his life. She even ensures that their apartment is a shrine to herself, adorned with numerous photos of her. When the film opens, she is confined to a hospital room and expects Leo to visit her every night right after work. When he takes a night off to indulge in his murderous past time, his mother's abrasive accusations of neglect seem to bother him more than the heinous crimes he has committed. He clearly hates and resents his mother. She never fails to remind him that he is a loser: overweight, homely and friendless. She tells him that she is the only person he can rely on and trust. She also warns him against getting involved with women, saying that any girl who would date him had to be after his money. Leo also has a peculiar fetish- he likes to leave dolls at the scene of his murderS, each representing the woman he has just killed. He obtains them by winning a game of chance at a local arcade where his skill at the game seems to impress the girls behind the counter, one of whom, Tally (Davey Davison), he clearly has a crush on, which inevitably puts her on Leo's endangered species list.

There weren't many diverse roles that Buono could play in his career. Generally, the baby-faced actor was stuck portraying varying incarnations of a "man child". However, he did carve out some memorable performances playing largely comedic villains in shows like "Batman", "The Wild, Wild West" and "The Man From U.N.C.L.E.". He worked steadily, occasionally landing a mature role in major films such as "Robin and the Seven Hoods" and "Four For Texas" in which he appeared with Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. Buono, who died young at age 42 in 1982, arguably gives the best performance of his career in "The Strangler", making a man who commits despicable acts seem almost sympathetic. When he finally asks a woman he barely knows to marry him, her rejection of him is truly a heartbreaking scene. Leo ends up on the short list of police suspects but manages to elude arrest. He even demands to take a lie detector test, which he passes due to the fact that he has no feelings of guilt whatsoever. His motive for murder isn't even to alleviate the sexual repression he feels. It's simply his way of dealing with mommy issues. Each woman he slays is a stand-in for the mother he deplores. Under the highly competent direction of Burt Topper, "The Strangler" boasts some impressive performances by a largely unknown cast. The police sequences, which highlight David McLean as the over-worked cop assigned to crack the case, ring with authenticity. The B&W film also has good cinematography and creative use of lighting effect. Yet it is Buono who dominates the production with a performance that would have won critical raves if it were seen in an "A" list production. The film is consistently entertaining and at times highly suspenseful. The Warner Archive release is top-notch but lacks any extras. A commentary track on this title would be most welcome for a future edition. 

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“VOYEURS AND VICTIMS”

By Raymond Benson

Just when everyone thought director Brian De Palma’s work couldn’t get more controversial than 1983’s Scarface, out came 1984’s Body Double, which was simultaneously praised and reviled. Just as they had with 1980’s Dressed to Kill, feminist groups protested Double with even more vitriol due to the picture’s perceived violence against women. Many critics and audiences dismissed the movie as merely a small step above porn, given the fact that much of the plot does deal with Hollywood’s “other industry” that was soaring to new heights in the mid-80s thanks to the rise of home video and VHS. And yet, Body Double is now a certified cult classic, a De Palma fan favorite, and, frankly, in this reviewer’s opinion, one of his most accomplished and stylish efforts.

Still working in full Hitchcock Homage Mode, De Palma borrowed some of the plot of Vertigo, in which a killer uses a look-alike woman to fool our hapless and naive protagonist into believing the lady is someone else. With Pino Donaggio’s lush orchestral score accompanying the action, one is indeed reminded of Bernard Herrmann’s romanticism from that 1958 film. The suspense is plotted and paced in the manner of the Master of Suspense, and the picture also contains much of Hitch’s penchant for dark humor and satire.

Craig Wasson (remember him?) plays Jake, a struggling Hollywood actor who is recently separated from a cheating wife. He’s also claustrophobic, which of course plays into the plot. He meets another actor, Sam (Gregg Henry) at an audition; Sam graciously allows Jake to house-sit at a fancy home in the hills while Sam goes on tour. The bonus for Jake is the eye candy that can be viewed with a telescope—every night, a woman across the way performs a tantalizing striptease in a window. Jake falls for the woman (former Miss USA, Deborah Shelton) and he also unwittingly witnesses her brutal murder.

Enter Holly Body, a porn star (winningly played by Melanie Griffith in one of her first major roles), who might be somehow involved with the killing. Naturally, Jake sets out to solve the crime and insinuates himself into Holly’s world in order to do so. As we learn on the disc’s supplements, De Palma had considered casting a real porn star in the part—but Hollywood would have turned its back on him. Griffith convinced him that she could do the required “moves,” and her casting is a revelation.

Thus, this is a story about voyeurism and victims, reality and illusion, truth and trickery. Hitchcock often explored the same themes; in De Palma’s hands, Body Double becomes an exercise in visual style and storyline thrills. It’s also a scathing and humorous poke in the eye at Hollywood itself, especially the world of cutthroat auditioning and casting.

The film is very explicit; apparently De Palma once again had to fight the censors for the film to receive an “R” rating. Griffith unabashedly did her own nude scenes, even the celebrated peep-show dance through the telescope (which is set to Donaggio’s mesmerizing trace music).

Body Double got an extra publicity boost with the inclusion of the hit song “Relax” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood; a music video running regularly on MTV at the time contained tied-in clips from the film.

Twilight Time’s Blu-ray looks and sounds fabulous. Stephen H. Burum’s cinematography is lavish and colorful, very conducive to the HD format (1080p). Shot in and around Hollywood, the locations are familiar, such as scenes in the famous restaurant, Barney’s Beanery on Santa Monica Boulevard, the Beverly Center, and the Rodeo Collection mall on Rodeo Drive.

Supplements include four well-done featurettes on the making of the film, with interviews with De Palma, Griffith, Shelton, and Dennis Franz, who plays a film director molded on De Palma himself. There’s also an isolated score track; Pino Donaggio collaborated several times with De Palma—Body Double may be his best team-up with the filmmaker. The audio is 5.1 DTS-HD MA.

Twilight Time’s release of Body Double is limited to 3000 copies. 

(Note: this title is sold out at the Twilight Time web site. However, it is available from dealers on both Amazon and eBay.)  

BY TIM GREAVES

Not to be mistaken for the cannibal monstrosity from Umberto Lenzi with which it shares its title, Eaten Alive is a 1976 tale of terror set in the Louisiana swamps and was directed by Tobe Hooper in the wake of his phenomenal success with The Texas Chain Saw Massacre two years earlier. From the outset Eaten Alive shares its predecessor's mien of ill ease (though not to such stomach-tightening effect), but little of its wicked humour. Indeed it's an all-round far crueller film and positively bubbles over with bloodshed.

Producer Mardi Rustam – who also wrote the story with colleague Alvin L Fast, TCSM's Kim Henkel then adapting it for the screen – was aiming to ride the tidal wave of Jaws' success; what the results lacked in quality (certainly if Rustam felt truly inspired by Spielberg’s film) was voraciously compensated for with lashings of cheap thrills and squalid chills.

The story kicks off with a very fresh-faced Robert Englund attempting to abuse 'the new girl' in a grimy brothel. Immediately deciding that prostitution isn't for her, the young lass packs her bags and sets off on foot into the night. But it's very much a case of ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ when she stumbles across the remote Starlight Hotel and its creepy proprietor Judd (Neville Brand); after attempting to assault her, he prongs her to death on the tines of a pitchfork and feeds her corpse to the huge crocodile he keeps in an enclosure in the back yard. It’s a brutal and extremely graphic sequence but one via which Hooper adeptly alerts the audience that he's upped the ante to deliver something rather more visceral then he did with TCSM (which for all its notoriety is a largely bloodless affair, functioning primarily on a psychological level). The rest of the movie’s runtime pivots on Judd serving up hotel guests as crocodile chow for no discernible reason beyond the fact he's mad as...well, as a box of baby crocs.

Given the unbridled success of Hooper's earlier film, it's no surprise that Eaten Alive is often given short shrift and indeed it is inferior, mainly due to sluggish pacing and the fact it was shot in its entirety on a soundstage; although the hotel exteriors –wreathed in swirling mist and bathed in a quease-inducing red glow – have an appealingly stylised look, it's also painfully obvious one is looking at a studio-bound set, replete with the tell-tale hollow sound resulting when interiors feebly posture as exteriors. However, if you can look past this handicap, and claustrophobic dread coupled with sleaze by the bucketful float your boat, then there's plenty on offer here to keep you entertained.

The cast alone is worth tuning in for. Complementing Brand's frenetic turn as the maniac hotel manager there are fun appearances from legends Mel Ferrer (whose career had certainly seen better days) and Addams Family icon Carolyn Jones (almost unrecognisable as the decrepit Madam of a brothel). Also on hand are Stuart Whitman as a local sheriff oblivious to the carnage being perpetrated on his patch and TCSM's leading lady Marilyn Burns, who fortuitously discards her frightful wig early on but still ends up bound and gagged by our resident psychopath... the poor girl didn't have a lot of luck in Hooper's films, did she? There's also a bizarre turn from William Finley as a disgustingly sweaty guest with a penchant for barking like a dog, giving Brand strong competition in the most deranged character stakes.

Alternatively lurking under titles such as Horror Hotel, Starlight Slaughter and Legend of the Bayou, when Eaten Alive was issued in the UK on VHS in the early 80s under the moniker Death Trap it immediately drew unfortunate attention that earned it a place among the infamous 'video nasties' and it was withdrawn from circulation. Previous DVD releases have reportedly been pretty much substandard across the board (although I haven't seen any of them to be able to comment fairly). But one thing's for sure: Arrow's new uncut Blu-ray/DVD combination package is anything but substandard, in fact it's absolutely terrific, doing Robert Caramico's stylish cinematography more fitting a service than one could have ever imagined possible. 

As if such a superior, uncut presentation of the film alone doesn't make this one a worthwhile purchase, Arrow has bundled in an impressive collection of sweeteners. There are new interviews with Tobe Hooper (who also appears in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it introduction tagged onto the start of the movie), supporting actress Janus Blythe and make-up artist Craig Reardon, as well as older ones with Hooper, Robert Englund and Marilyn Burns. Mardi Rustam provides an informative commentary and there's also a 20-something minute featurette that delves into the life of the Texas bar owner upon who the film is loosely based, as well as a healthy selection of trailers, radio and TV spots, plus a gallery of poster art and lurid lobby cards. A final gem appears in the form of a gallery of original 'comment cards', collected from attendees at a preview screening of the film back in 1976, with the incentive for filling them out being a reward for the best 'new title' suggestion. Most of the remarks are pretty uncharitable, with an amusing standout being the one on which the viewer sarcastically requests to be informed of any subsequent title change so that he/she doesn't inadvertently go to see it again!

BY BILL DUELLY

A wonderful, eclectic hodgepodge collection of vintage 3-D, tests, shorts, animation and trailers has been released on Blu Ray recently by Flicker Alley.  3-D Rarities, released on the Flicker Alley label, is for film and nostalgia buffs, alike. This is a wonderful snapshot of 3-D motion picture photography from early tests in the 1920’s up through 1962, and arrives in time to honor the 100-year anniversary of the exhibition of 3D films.

3-D wasn’t just a brief fad in the 50’s but was found in sporadic use for specialized presentations up through then. Early surviving shorts show us wonderful glimpses of Washington DC and New York City, with wonderful perspective. Two company films follow, Thrills For You and New Dimensions. Thrills for You was produced by The Pennsylvania Railroad for exhibition at the Golden Gate International Exposition in 1940 in San Francisco. This B&W wonder gives a viewer an all too brief look at railroading in its heyday from GG1 electrics, steam engines and the lounge cars (although why an East Coast Railroad would promote itself on the West Coast and not in its own territory is beyond me). New Dimensions is an eye popping Technicolor feast of animation, produced for exhibition at the 1940 Worlds Fair. Perfectly synchronized with music and effects, a Chrysler is assembled one piece at a time.

As the collection moves into the 50’s, the disc contains 3-D trailers for: It Came From Outer Space; Hannah Lee; The Maze and Miss Sadie Thompson. Shorts include special intros for the first 3-D film, Bwana Devil, hosted by Lloyd Nolan (with a guest appearance by Beany & Cecil); Stardust in Your Eyes, which played with Robot Monster and features comic Slick Slaven, doing impressions, telling some jokes and singing a tune or two.

Doom Town is a very odd take on the Atom Bomb and tests that were being done at Yucca Flats. Somewhat flippant in its tone and very critical of this new super weapon, it only played a few bookings and disappeared from view. Another great short is the Casper cartoon Boo Moon, another Technicolor visual feast.

What is most noteworthy (and appreciated) is the restoration/cleanup work that has been done on these films. Many were transferred from the only surviving elements and had properties such as color fade, shrinkage and other damage. The bane of 3-D presentations was always the potential of a technical foul-up that even one frame could produce. The images here are extremely clean and have been color corrected and registered in place to be able to deliver a comfortable 3-D viewing experience (and will always be in sync when viewed from this Blu-Ray). Kudos to Bob Furmanek at the 3-D Archive for finding these gems as well as Greg Kintz for the digital restoration. They both deserve a big hand for their efforts.

There are plenty of other shorts, including some risqué footage shot by, pre-Godfather, film student Francis Ford Coppola, as well as a very informative, multi-page booklet with essays on every short in there. It is certainly worth the modest price for these nostalgic treats.

An abbreviated version of the contents have just completed a successful run at New York’s Museum of Modern Art and will be showing up in special engagements across the country this summer. Please check http://www.3dfilmarchive.com/3-d-rarities for further information about this project and others.

Bonus Materials Include:

- Introductions by Leonard Maltin and Trustin Howard.
- Essays by Julian Antos, Hillary Hess, Thad Komorowski, Donald McWilliams, Ted Okuda, Mary Ann Sell and Jack Theakston.
- 3-D photo galleries - Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923), New York World's Fair (1939), Sam Sawyer View-Master reels (1950) and 3-D Comic Books (1953).
- 3-D footage directed by Francis Ford Coppola from The Bellboy and the Playgirls (1962).
- Commentary tracks by Thad Komorowski and Jack Theakston.

TO WATCH THE 3-D VERSIONS OF THESE FILMS, YOU NEED:
- 3D HDTV
- COMPATIBLE 3D GLASSES
- BLU-RAY 3DTM PLAYER OR PLAYSTATION 3 SYSTEM*
- HIGH-SPEED HDMI CABLE

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON 

 

NOTE: THIS REVIEW PERTAINS TO THE UK RELEASE

BY DARREN ALLISON

The Train 1964 Directed by John Frankenheimer, Starring Burt Lancaster, Paul Scofield and Jeanne Moreau. Arrow Blu-Ray release date: 11th May 2015

John Frankenheimer ‘s The Train is a realistic and engrossing account of the sabotaging of a Nazi endeavour to smuggle a trainload of art treasures out of France toward the end of World War II. Burt Lancaster gives a fine performance as Labiche, leader of the French railway-workers' resistance – and the man chosen to lead the sabotage and protect “the national heritage and pride of France!” Paul Scofield's Nazi, Von Waldheim, is also excellent as the colonel who rants and rages, almost to the point of obsession, in order to see that nothing stops the train from completing its criminal mission.

Lancaster dominates this movie, his strength; agility and sheer gutsy determination provide a genuine sense of realism. Observing Lancaster (in his sheer physical capacity) is enough to take one’s breath away. Watch those long (often single) takes of him sliding down railway gantry ladders, and running along the trackside before jumping on to the moving train – and you would be hard pushed to feel anything but respect and admiration for his work. The Train is full of astonishing action, collisions, and stunning set pieces – take for example the air strike on the rail yard, an amazing and meticulously executed scene containing some of the most realistic explosions and carnage.

Throughout the thrills and spills, Lancaster also finds time for a little romance with Christine, a tight-lipped, angry widow who runs a railroad-side hotel and played rather nicely by Jeanne Moreau. But don’t let this put you off for a minute, the romance is never given time to dominate or overshadow the film’s narrative. The Train truly remains one of the great films of the sixties. Frankenheimer’s camera often gives the film a documentary style and the stark black and white photography does nothing but enhance the bleak atmosphere of the times. Maurice Jarre’s music score also adds extra depth to the movie without ever getting in the way or overshadowing those realistically essential railroad sounds.

Arrow’s High Definition Blu-ray (1080p) presentation of the film is quite superb. There are good, deep blacks where required, often giving the film an almost noir quality. It is also virtually free of any dust, dirt or speckles, and leaves the previous MGM DVD looking very poor in comparison. The audio comprises of a nice clear uncompressed 1.0 mono PCM track. Additional audio delights come in the way of a commentary by director John Frankenheimer which is both engaging and informative. In addition to that, Arrow has also gifted us with an optional isolated score by composer Maurice Jarre. So there is plenty to be had in terms of audio supplements.

Further extras include: Burt Lancaster in the Sixties – a newly-filmed interview with Lancaster’s biographer Kate Buford, tracing the actor’s career throughout the decade. For me, the real winning bonus material is in the Blu-Ray’s archival footage. This includes a French television news report on the making of The Train, containing interviews with the locals of Acquigny. There is also an original interview with Michel Simon who was so memorable in the role of the stubborn railroad resistance fighter Papa Boule. Plus, there is some wonderful footage of The Train’s gala screening in Marseilles. The original theatrical trailer is also included and rounds off a tidy and generous collection of extra material.

Packaging consists of a sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Vladimir Zimakov. I have to say, I’m not a fan of the new artwork which is a little too abstract for my taste, especially in comparison to the beautiful original poster art, which is thankfully contained on the reverse. I do admire Arrow’s policy of a reversible sleeve, and can’t knock anyone who at least provides a choice...

There is also a very good collector’s booklet featuring new writing on the film by Cinema Retro contributor Sheldon Hall and is illustrated throughout with original stills and artwork.

For genuine fans of great sixties movies, it’s an essential piece of art for your collection.

http://www.arrowfilms.co.uk/

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

CELEBRATE FRANK SINATRA’S 100TH BIRTHDAY WITH

FRANK SINATRA: 5 FILM COLLECTION

MARCH 31 ON DIGITAL HD AND MAY 5 ON BLU-RAYTM FROM WARNER BROS. HOME ENTERTAINMENT

First time on Blu-ray and Digital HD for Anchors Aweigh, On the Town And Robin and the 7 Hoods

3. Anchors Aweigh (1945)

4. Till The Clouds Roll By (1946)

5. Kissing Bandit, The (1948)

6. On the Town (1949)

7. Guys and Dolls (1955)

8. Tender Trap, The (1955)

9. The Man with The Golden Arm (1955)

10. High Society (1956)

11. Some Came Running (1958)

12. Never So Few (1959) – first time on Digital HD 13. Ocean's 11 (1960)

14. Robin and the 7 Hoods (1964)

15. None But The Brave (1965)

CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE BLU-RAY SET, TO BE RELEASED MAY 5

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Vinegar Syndrome has released a limited edition (1,500 units) dual format edition of the 1978 adult movie hit "Pretty Peaches" by director Alex deRenzy, who was perhaps the most prolific director the medium had ever seen. deRenzy didn't crank out cheapo grind house movies. Instead, he tried to incorporate relatively high production values, often shooting in outdoor locations. He also had an eye for attracting some of the most exotic actresses of the era. "Pretty Peaches" is one of deRenzy's most notable achievements. The movie introduced Desiree Costeau, who would go on to be a legendary name in erotic cinema. deRenzy made hardcore movies with some substance and style and this title is no exception. The plot finds the title character, Peaches (Costeau), an amiable but air-headed young beauty,  racing along in her jeep  in a hurry to get to Virginia City, Nevada, in the hopes of attending her father's civil wedding ceremony to his second wife, a young black woman with an insatiable sexual appetite. Peaches arrives just in the nick of time for the ceremony but after making some small talk with her father, she speeds off again in her jeep en route to San Francisco. Along the way, her jeep goes off the road and she is knocked unconscious. Two young men race to her assistance but, upon examining the scantily-clad Peaches, become sexually aroused. One of them goes so far as to violate her while she is still unconscious. When she finally awakes, she has complete amnesia. The men use this to their advantage by convincing her that they own the jeep and offer her a ride to San Francisco, where they coincidentally share an apartment. Peaches goes along but is troubled by the fact that she can't recall her name or anything about her background. While in the big city she tries to find professional help but ends up receiving treatment from a mad, sex-crazed doctor  whose "therapy" consists of inducing enemas! She doesn't fare much better when she applies for a job as an exotic dancer and ends up being violated by a gang of lesbians. Peaches is also uncomfortable living with her two male companions, who have a steady stream of loose women over to the apartment who they bed down without any regard for privacy concerns. Ultimately, she meets a handsome, kindly psychiatrist who offers to help her if she drops by his house that evening. Naturally, this offer isn't what it seems, either, and Peaches ends up in a major orgy where her memory is jolted back in an unpleasant way when she sees her own father (!) participating in the goings-on.

"Pretty Peaches" is very much from the school of 1970s erotica that blended slapstick comedy with hardcore sex. As the title character, Desiree Costeau is quite a find- at least in terms of her physical qualifications. She also gives an amusing performance, though it's doubtful Katharine Hepburn lost much sleep about her entry into the acting profession. The film is populated with other mainstays of the adult film industry of that time period including John Leslie, Joey Silvera and Paul Thomas. Juliet Anderson (aka "Aunt Peg") also makes her screen debut in this flick playing an assertive maid who ends up in a threesome with Peaches' dad and his new bride. Director deRenzy has good instincts when it comes to turning down the comedy elements when the action gets hot and he does provide some genuinely erotic sequences- but in the aggregate, the film will probably appeal most to those who like to mix laughs with their salacious cinematic thrills.

The Vinegar Syndrome transfer is just about perfect, having been remastered from a 35mm source print. Chances are the film looks better today than it did on the big screen. The release contains some special features including three trailers for other deRenzy films and an interview with film historian Ted Mcilvenna, who knew deRenzy since the 1960s. Mcilvenna was a social activist in San Francisco who was fighting for sexual freedom and crusaded against the archaic laws in Britain that criminalized homosexuality until 1967. he relates how deRenzy was so prolific in his work that he once discovered 19 completed feature films in his archive that the director had not gotten around to editing. There is also a rare interview with deRenzy himself, shot on VHS tape shortly before his death in 2001. Vinegar Syndrome believes this is the only known filmed interview with deRenzy. 

CLICK HERE TO ORDER AND TO VIEW TRAILER

In commemoration of the 50th anniversary of  The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and in anticipation of the forthcoming big screen version of the classic television series, Cinema Retro will be offering periodic reviews of individual episodes of the show, which aired between September 1964 and January 1968. The episodes will be chosen at random and not presented in any specific order, thus offering analysis of telecasts from the four seasons. Reviews will be written by U.N.C.L.E. scholars and long-time devotees of the series.

By Lee Pfeiffer

"The Virtue Affair"

Air date: December 3, 1965

Director: Jud Taylor

Writer: Henry Slaser

Although most U.N.C.L.E fans tend to favor the series' premiere season (when it was telecast in B&W), I've always been partial to the second season, which began in September 1965. That's when I first experienced the show, through a ringing endorsement of my older brother, who said, "It's like a TV version of James Bond." For a nine year old boy who was enjoying the 007-inspired spy craze of the mid-1960s, that was all I had to hear. I quickly became hooked on the show and my enthusiasm for it has never diminished, although I hereby admit that my expertise relating to the series is not nearly on par with some of the writers who will be contributing reviews to future columns.

"The Virtue Affair" is a strong episode from the second season; one that fully illustrates the show's penchant for mixing thrills and humor. This time around, Napoleon Solo (Robert Vaughn) and Illya Kuryakin (David McCallum) are dispatched to France by U.N.C.L.E. chief Alexander Waverly (Leo G. Carroll) to thwart some goings-on involving the development of a secret missile system. The episode begins with Solo and Illya spotting a missile launch device being smuggled through the countryside by some mystery men. They follow the van in hopes of locating the ultimate destination for the device but they are, in essence, carjacked by a desperate old man who forces them at gunpoint to rescue him from some pursuers on motorbikes. The man turns out to be Raoul Dubois (Marcel Hillaire), one of the world's most acknowledged experts in missile guidance technology. He has Solo and Illya take him to the home of his daughter Albert (named after Einstein), who- in true U.N.C.L.E. style- turns out to be a stunning beauty played by Marla Powers. Turns out that Albert is also a recognized expert in her father's field of engineering. Raoul tells the agents that he had been duped into joining a missile technology program thinking it was being run by the French government. He found out too late that it was a private venture with nefarious purposes and that he and other engineers were being held captive and forced to develop the system that will allow a deadly missile to be launched. Before he can identify the mastermind behind the plan, two motorcycles crash through the living room door and their riders succeed in assassinating Raoul in front of the hapless Solo and Illya. (A refreshing aspect of the series is the occasionally inability of its protagonists to avoid making costly mistakes.) Waverly informs the men that the likely evil genius they are seeking is a man named Jacques Robespierre (Ronald Long), a rich eccentric who claims lineage to the legendary madman of the French Revolution. Waverly explains that Robespierre is a walking paradox: a committed pacifist who is eager to bring back an era of social graces even if he has to engage in genocide to do so. He once ran for the presidency of France on a platform of outlawing the sale of wine. Not surprisingly, Waverly says, he only garnered 84 votes in a nation that is fanatical in its love of the grape. Waverly suspects that Robespierre intends to achieve through violence what he could not achieve at the ballot box: a takeover of the French government and the establishment of an arch conservative regime that will use violence to enforce Robespierre's peculiar code of morality. 

Solo and Albert arrange to get invitations to Robespierre's mansion but he sees through them immediately and they are imprisoned. Albert is given a choice: reveal the code that will enable the launch of a missile that will destroy the vineyard regions of France or witness Solo's execution. She relents and Robespierre keeps his word to spare their lives, although Solo ends up in a jail cell. Meanwhile, Illya gains access to the Robespierre estate grounds by posing as a hunter with a proficient use of a bow and arrow. (Actually an electronically enhanced bow and arrow system that ensures he gets a bullseye every time.) He has a chance encounter with a real expert bow and arrow hunter, Karl Vogler (Frank Marth, who played many secondary roles on the "classic 39" episodes of "The Honeymooners"). A highlight of the episode is the sporting competition between Vogler and Illya in which both men try to top each other in terms of marksmanship, though Illya is clearly cheating with his U.N.C.L.E.-enhanced arrow device. Vogler also recognizes Illya as an enemy agent (the villains in this episode are unusually efficient) and before long he becomes the stalked prey in a version of "The Most Dangerous Game", as Vogler and his fellow hunters track him through the woods. Illya, who is handcuffed behind his back, has only his wits and natural instincts to avoid what appears to be certain death. Once freed from his pursuers, Illya ends up at Robespierre's castle and gets possession of the guidance system just moments before it is to be utilized to launch the missile. In the most amusing sequence in the episode, he is mistaken for a famed engineer and is forced to give a lecture to real engineers about the workings of the system. It's genuinely amusing to see David McCallum get a rare chance to show off his comedic abilities, as he uses double talk to get the engineers to answer their own questions. Nevertheless, he is inevitably exposed as a fraud and is sentenced to Robespierre's idea of traditional justice: death by guillotine. 

"The Virtue Affair" boasts some of the wittiest repartee between Solo and Illya, with both men making jokes at the other's expense, all thanks to the fine script by Henry Slesar. Ronald Long makes for one of the more memorable villains, an amusing Burl Ives-type who defends chivalry with a passion but thinks nothing of overseeing the senseless slaughter of thousands of innocent people. The episode is very ably directed by Jud Taylor, who sadly would not contribute to any more of the shows over the length of its run, and Robert Drasnin's score is particular effective. Unlike "I Spy", which filmed around the world, all of U.N.C.L.E.'s exotic locations consisted of stock footage- but that only adds to a retro TV lover's affection for the series. 

EPISODE RATING: ***1/2 (out of four).  

CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE ENTIRE SERIES, WITH HOURS OF BONUS EXTRAS, FROM AMAZON AND SAVE $116!

Intrada has released a new, definitive CD of Henry Mancini's classic score for Howard Hawks' "Hatari!". See below for description from Screen Archives: 

World premiere release of actual Henry Mancini soundtrack to terrific Howard Hawks adventure film set in Africa, starring John Wayne, Elsa Martinelli, Red Buttons. Wayne and company capture rare animals for various world zoos. Some species are easier to catch than others. Elephants inspire Mancini to create legendary tune "Baby Elephant Walk", available for first time ever in its original soundtrack guise. Famous swaggering tune for high register Eb clarinet also figures during climactic "Search For Dallas". Leopard, buffalo, monkey, giraffe, ostrich all get their say but incredibly dangerous rhino sequences are what bring out Mancini's equally legendary main theme, often heard on choir of French horns in unison. In 1962, Mancini re-recorded just 30 minutes of highlights for admittedly sensational RCA album. Now enjoy Mancini's complete original recordings, presented mostly in stereo from Paramount Pictures scoring session elements. A few sections required use of mono stems to allow restoration of complete soundtrack. This new hour long release carries landmark significance: every Mancini album during this most famous period of his career (Breakfast At Tiffany's, Hatari, Charade, Experiment In Terror, The Pink Panther) was heavily truncated and completely re-arranged with emphasis on dance mood. Along with new release of Charade, this marks exciting debut of an actual Mancini soundtrack from the era! Danger, romance, thrills, comedy, all getting rich Mancini melody! Unforgettable original campaign artwork is icing on the cake. Henry Mancini conducts. Available while quantities and interest remain. - Douglass Fake Intrada Producer

01. The Sounds Of Hatari 4:17
02. Main Title 2:35
03. Safari Bar Piano Blues 1:24
04. Giraffe Country 1:34
05. Just For Tonight (Instrumental) 2:10
06. Paraphrase I 1:40
07. Night Side 2:35
08. Dallas Has A Plan 1:31
09. Trip To Masai Wells 1:06
10. Indian Comes Home 0:58
11. Just For Tonight (Solo Piano) 2:24
12. Swift Animal Chase 0:49
13. Dead Elephant 0:37
14. Night Side (Record Player) 2:19
15. Leopard And Buffalo 1:51
16. The Crocodile 1:08
17. Your Father’s Feathers 1:50
18. Baby Elephant Walk (Short) 1:57
19. Crocodile, Go Home! 1:10
20. Big Band Bwana 1:46 
21. Paraphrase II 1:26
22. Wildebeest Hunt 2:36
23. Brandy Sniffer 2:09
24. Ice Bucket Blues 1:42
25. Monkey Suits 2:04
26. Baby Elephant Walk (Long) 3:14 
27. Elephant Scare 0:49
28. More Rhino 0:53
29. Burnt Fingers 2:59
30. Search For Dallas 4:23 
31. Just For Tonight (Chorus) 2:10
32. Finale 0:19

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM SCREEN ARCHIVES

By Todd Garbarini

Director Peter Hunt’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service celebrates its 45^th anniversary this year. Actor George Lazenby, who donned the role of Bond, James Bond, for this singular film will be appearing for a Q and A at the screening on Tuesday, July 8, 2014. The event will be held at the Landmark Theatre, 10850 West Pico at Westwood Blvd., Los Angeles, CA. From the press release:

James Bond goes undercover in the treacherous Swiss Alps in this underrated, highly entertaining, action-packed epic filled with artillery-laden ski pursuits, incredible stunts and nonstop thrills! George Lazenby (in his only appearance as James Bond) leaps into the role of Agent 007 with supreme confidence and undeniable charisma, even finding love with the beautiful and seductive Tracy Di Vicenzo (Diana Rigg). But first Bond must stop evil genius Blofeld (Telly Savalas) from releasing a germ warfare plot that could kill millions! Directed by Peter R. Hunt (Gold, Shout at the Devil).

Click here for more information.

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

In our never-ending quest to provide gratuitous thrills, Cinema Retro presents rare photos of Hollywood hunks and godesses.

By Lee Pfeiffer

The Shadowplay DVD label has released the 1984 film Hookers on Davie Street (aka Hookers on Davie). Despite the sensational title, this is not a sexploitation film. In fact, it's a sobering look at particularly sordid area of Vancouver during a period when prostitutes trawled for customers apparently without any interference from local authorities. The documentary was directed by two female filmmakers, Janis Cole and Holly Dale and won an award at the Chicago International Film Festival. It was also nominated for the Canadian version of the Oscar, the Genie Award, in the category of Best Documentary. The film traces the nightly ordeals of a diverse group of prostitutes that includes young women and transvestites, each of whom suffers the indignity of standing on a street corner and soliciting drivers to pay them for sex in their cars or back in a squalid motel room. The filmmakers obviously had gained the trust of their subjects and were allowed extraordinary access to these wayward souls who share their stories on camera. Virtually all of them came from broken homes, foster homes or juvenile centers and most started their careers as prostitutes very early in life, some before they were teenagers. Most seem to regret having to do this for a living but feel that they have no other choice. The hookers in question pride themselves on working in a "pimp-free" zone where they band together to keep out those who would exploit them even further. Aware of the risks they take every night by getting into cars with strange men, the group does what it can to rescue any of their peers from particularly dangerous situations. Nevertheless, some of the women describe frightening encounters with men who beat them and, in some cases, threaten their lives. If there is a central figure in the film it is Mark, a transvestite who goes under the name of "Michelle". He is half-way through a transgender operation and struts his stuff on the pavement wearing a garish dress with an ample bust line constantly on display. He shamelessly discusses how he got into sordid sex after being abused by an older man and seems unconcerned about the way he now makes a living. A visit from his distraught mother is especially moving when she describes on camera how she still loves her son despite the wreck he has made of his life. The film shows the prostitutes gathering for nightly "rest breaks" in a hotel bar where they joke and laugh the way any other co-workers might be expected to. However, there is an underlying tragic circumstance behind each of their stories. The movie also doesn't shy away from showing some of the "johns" who patronize the hookers. One has to wonder if they aren't as pathetic in their own way as the prostitutes are. After all, the hookers are victims of circumstance while the johns are generally married, relatively affluent men who feel obliged to pay for their thrills. The film culminates in coverage of a protest march by local prostitutes to lobby for legalization of their trade. (Canadian laws concerning prostitution have been criticized for being vague. Prostitution is technically legal but can be prosecuted under certain circumstances if deemed to be a danger to the public.)

Hookers on Davie Street is the kind of bold film making that not only impresses but informs the viewer. In this case, it humanizes a sub-culture of people and makes their plight a sympathetic one.

The DVD transfer is grainy but, given the technology of the era when the movie was shot, the original master probably was as well. There are no extras.  

Click here to order  

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

(This article originally ran in June 2007)  

The latest sci-fi special edition release from Fox is the eagerly-awaited Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. The TV spin-off series from the mid 1960s has built such a devoted cult following that many people forget it was based on a major big screen feature film produced by Irwin Allen. The eccentric producer has always been marginalized by the lifted pinky crowd for being the schlockmaster supreme, but Allen was a dedicated craftsman who cared not a whit about the critical establishment. He had an uncanny sense for reading the mood of moviegoers and providing the precise type of entertainment they craved at any particular time. By the time his instincts began to fail him in the late 1970s, he had already produced some of the most popular and highest-grossing motion pictures of all time, to say nothing of cult TV classics like Lost in Space, The Time Tunnel, Land of the Giants and of course, the Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea spin-off.

(Note: This review pertains to the UK Region 2 PAL format release available on www.amazon.co.uk)

By Adrian Smith

Cecil B. DeMille will always be remembered for his lavish historical epics like The Ten Commandments (1923 and again in 1956), Sign of the Cross (1932) and Samson and Delilah (1949). However, with over one hundred and sixty credits as either director or producer, he also worked in plenty of other genres. Following two flops, This Day and Age (1933) and Four Frightened People (1934), Paramount head Adolph Zukor insisted he try to replicate the success of Sign of the Cross with another visual spectacle. DeMille agreed and cast Claudette Colbert in the lead role of Cleopatra (she had already starred in both Sign of the Cross and Four Frightened People and was about to win the Oscar for It Happened one Night (1934)).

The plot focuses on Cleopatra's relationship with Julius Caesar (Warren William), who initially wishes to conquer Egypt, but having been seduced by the Queen of the Nile, he instead pledges Rome's support and protection. This ultimately leads to his downfall and assassination in the Senate, and his right-hand man Marc Anthony (Henry Wilcoxon) takes joint power with Caesar's heir Octavian (Ian Keith). Determined to once again subjugate Egypt, Marc Anthony heads to the Nile and meets with Cleopatra aboard her incredibly extravagant barge. He is in turn seduced and takes Caesar's place as protectorate of Egypt, something which severely displeases Octavian and the Senate back home. This is a piece of history which, thanks to the movies, is very well known. The pleasure here comes not from wondering how it will turn out, but the visual spectacle we are treated to on the journey.

Former United States Postmaster General Will Hays had been tasked with cleaning up the motion picture industry following the great tide of scandal and public outcry over Hollywood decadence during the 1920s. This had in part been prompted by the death of actress Virginia Rappe following her attendance at an orgy with Fatty Arbuckle in 1921. In 1930 Hays published a set of industry rules which became known as the Hays Code or Production Code, and whilst official censorship was not in force, any movie which did not comply would find it extremely difficult to get distribution. The rules particularly clamped down on any form of sexual activity, with the first rule "No picture shall be produced that will lower the moral standards of those who see it," ensuring audiences were to get as little thrills as possible in the movie theatre. Incredibly the studios remained in voluntary subscription to the Hays code until the late 1960s. Fortunately in the early 1930s the code was only just developing its power over Hollywood and some productions did manage to escape, Cleopatra being one of them. DeMille had flirted with erotic imagery before, most notoriously with Claudette Colbert's nude bathing scene in Sign of the Cross. Cleopatra is filled with the kind of steamy, sexually-charged atmosphere that Hollywood would struggle to depict again for many years. Colbert's costumes in particular are eye-popping in every sense.

The sets of the movie also live up to DeMille's reputation, and must have filled every sound stage on the Paramount lot. He had an eye for spectacle and Cleopatra is brimming with it, whether it's the opulent palaces or the climactic sea battle, surprisingly graphic for 1934. The pacing is good, with plenty of story covered in its one hundred minutes. The makers of the Elizabeth Taylor-starring remake in 1963 could have learned a lot from this one. Claudette Colbert's performance is perfect as the sexually alluring queen willing to do whatever it takes to protect Egypt, even if her suitors, Caesar and Marc Anthony, are rather boorish and ham-fisted. This is a film where the cast appear to hail from New York rather than the ancient world, but this does not matter when the gorgeous imagery arrests your senses all the way through.

This new dual format (Blu-ray and DVD) release from Eureka features a tremendous HD transfer authorised by Universal, and some nice documentaries covering DeMille, Claudette Colbert and the background to the Production Code. A commentary by film historian F.X. Feeney and forty page booklet crammed with essays and imagery is also included. This is a highly recommended release.

Click here to watch the teaser trailer for director J.J. Abrams' forthcoming Star Trek: Into Darkness. Not surprisingly, the teaser concentrates on action and spectacle as opposed to characterizations or plot points.  Additionally, the Armageddon-like look of the teaser poster suggests a sequel to I Am Legend as opposed to any space age thrills. However, if Abrams comes close to what he achieved with the last Trek film, the revitalized franchise will live long and prosper.  We'll have to wait until May to find out.