Most
folks who pay attention to Cinema Retro will likely know who Val Lewton
is. For those who don’t… After Orson Welles made Citizen Kane and The
Magnificent Ambersons at RKO Radio Pictures and (unwittingly and
undeservedly) nearly destroyed the studio, the top brass needed some quick
influx of money. They hired producer Val Lewton to “do what Universal was doing
and make some horror movies because that genre was profitable!” The only
problem was that they gave him practically nothing in terms of a budget to make
these films. It was up to Lewton to decide the kind of pictures he would make,
who to hire to make them, and so on.
Thus,
between 1942 and 1946, with Lewton at the producing helm, RKO released a string
of remarkable low-budget frighteners that relied not on expensive makeup or
visual effects to scare the audience, but rather carefully executed black and
white cinematography, sound, and storylines that left the horror in the
viewers’ imaginations. It was the adage—what you don’t see is likely creepier
than what you do. And it worked.
Lewton
hired talented filmmakers who drew upon German expressionism (and this was the
same time that Hollywood was beginning to make low budget crime dramas, later
known after the fact as film noir, using the same visual techniques) to
create an eerie atmosphere of contrasting dark shadows and light. Add in some
spooky sounds (wind, creaking doors, cat screeches, metal garbage cans crashing
loudly on a sidewalk) and a sensibility that anything could be lurking
around the corner… and you have some truly unnerving motion pictures. We don’t
need no stinkin’ monsters!
As
illustrated by film historian Imogen Sara Smith in an excellent supplement
about the Val Lewton film series, another aspect that made the films creepy was
an overwhelming sense of dread and death in all of them. They were nihilistic
explorations into the dark abscesses of the human soul. Suicide, murder, depression,
and repressed sexuality were common themes in all the titles.
First
out of the gate was Cat People (1942, also available on the Criterion
Collection), which was a surprise box office hit. French director Jacques
Tourneur and cinematographer Nicolas Musuraca established the style and
presentation of the Lewton movies with sensitive, canny direction and film
noir photography.
I
Walked with a Zombie
(1943) was next, and it’s this reviewer’s favorite among all the Lewton titles.
Loosely inspired by Jane Eyre, it’s one of the earliest Hollywood movies
to deal with voodoo in the West Indies. Tourneur also directed, but with J. Roy
Hunt as DP. Starring Frances Dee as Betsy, an innocent nurse on a Caribbean
island who is hired to care for Jessica (Christine Gordon), the invalid wife of
Paul (Tom Conway), a sugar plantation owner. Jessica is near catatonic but
wanders silently outdoors at night. Betsy soon learns more about the island’s superstitious
beliefs in Vodou and is surprised that even Paul’s mother, Mrs. Rand (Edith
Barrett) is a practitioner. It isn’t long before Betsy, who has fallen in love
with her employer, encounters the underbelly of the Vodou community and must
protect herself and her charge.
Is
I Walked with a Zombie “scary”? Well, no, not really, not any more than
any of the Lewton horror films. But what it has going for it is style and
atmosphere in spades. This is one of the most poetic horror films ever
made. It’s a beautifully-rendered, impressionistic tale that is creepy, to be
sure, and somewhat shocking (certainly for its time). There is much more happening
here than a mere zombie story. The themes of slavery and racism also crop up to
make the picture a much more meaningful treatise on the voodoo concept. And it
is absolutely gorgeous to look at.
The
Seventh Victim (1943)
was the fourth Lewton-produced picture, this time directed by Mark Robson, who
had been the editor on the first three Lewon titles. Nicholas Musuraca is back
as cinematographer, and the pictures would not have been as effective without
him. Something of a precursor to Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Seventh
Victim is about a devil-worshipping cult in New York City’s Greenwich
Village. Mary (Kim Hunter, in her first film role) is a young student looking
for her missing older sister, Jacqueline (Jean Brooks). Her investigation
introduces her to Gregory (Hugh Beaumont), who is, surprisingly, married to
Jacqueline, Dr. Judd (Tom Conway again), a psychiatrist who had been treating
Jacqueline, and poet Jason (Erford Gage), who offers to help in the search.
Mary eventually finds the despondent Jacqueline, who expresses the desire to
commit suicide. It turns out she is under the influence of the
Satan-worshippers, who believe that traitors to their cabal should die
preferably by suicide rather than violence.
Apparently,
The Seventh Victim went through a drastic post-production phase in which
at least four big scenes were deleted. As a result, the storyline in the
picture is often incoherent. We can’t help but wonder what the heck is really
going on most of the time. But is it “scary”? Again, no, not really, but the
film is indeed atmospheric, beautiful to look at, and has a sense of anxiety
that keeps one interested until we reach an ending that is, unfortunately,
unsatisfying. Nevertheless, Victim tackles unusual themes (watch for the
hint of a lesbian relationship between Jacqueline and her best friend, played
by Isabel Jewell). It’s a wonder that The Seventh Victim got through the
Hays Office with the Production Code seal of approval, considering its unsavory
set of villains and a suicide plot.
The
Criterion Collection has released a 4K/UHD edition and a Blu-ray edition of
both films on a single disk (the 4K/UHD edition includes the Blu-ray disk,
which also sports the supplements). The disk features a 4K digital restoration
of both films with uncompressed monaural soundtracks. Both pictures look
absolutely marvelous, cleaned up, sharp, and pristine. They are a testament to
the glory of black and white photography.
The
supplements abound. I Walked with a Zombie comes with an audio
commentary by authors Kim Newman and Stephen Jones. There is also an audio
essay from Adam Roche’s podcast “The Secret History of Hollywood” accompanying
the movie.
The
Seventh Victim comes
with an audio commentary by film historian Steve Haberman, as well as an audio
essay from the same Adam Roche’s podcast.
Other
supplements include the previously-mentioned interview with Imogen Sara Smith
that is an excellent overview of Lewton’s movies and especially the two titles
on the disk. The 2005 documentary, Shadows in the Dark: The Val Lewton
Legacy, is included in its entirety. There is another audio essay from Adam
Roche and his podcast about the casts, crews, and productions of both movies. Excerpts
from the PBS series Monstrum on “The Origins of the Zombie” are
particularly inviting. Rounding off the package are trailers for both films,
English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing, and a booklet with essays
by critics Chris Fujiwara and Lucy Sante.
Just
in time for Halloween, Criterion’s Val Lewton double feature of I Walked
with a Zombie and The Seventh Victim comes highly recommended for
fans of old horror films and classic Hollywood.
Eon Productions has opened an official James Bond 007 venue in Mayfair, London at the Burlington Arcade.
The venue affords visitors the opportunity to enjoy viewing iconic film props, shop for official merchandise and indulge in Bond-inspired cocktails.
Among the attendees for the opening were Bond actresses
Carole Ashby, Caroline Munro and Martine Beswick. The
exhibition runs through December 31. Cinema Retro's Mark Mawston was on hand to
chronicle the opening. For full details, visit the
MI6-HQ website.
With the twitch of a nose, Bewitched pops up in high-definition!
Elizabeth Montgomery, Dick York, and Agnes Moorehead star in the much-loved 1960s classic fantasy sitcom – and now Imprint Television brings Seasons 1 & 2 to Blu-ray for the very first time in this 15-disc collection. All 74 Season 1 & 2 episodes are presented in 1080p high-definition and LPCM 2.0 Mono sound, in the originally produced black and white picture format.
Added bonuses include colourised versions of each Season 1 & 2 episode (in standard-definition) plus brandNEWspecial features including audio commentaries and a documentary on the series.
15-DISC BLU-RAY SET + 172-page hardcover booklet in Limited Edition Hardbox packaging.
======
I DREAM OF JEANNIE: The Complete Series (1965 - 1970)- Imprint Television #16
Fold your arms and blink to pre-order now!
Barbara Eden, Larry Hagman, Hayden Rorke, and Bill Daily star in the phenomenally popular 1960s classic fantasy sitcom – and now your wish is granted to own the series as never seen before with this 22-disc Imprint Television collection. All 139 episodes are presented in 1080p high-definition and LPCM 2.0 Mono sound, with Season 1 in the originally produced black and white picture format and Seasons 2 through 5 in glorious colour.
Added bonuses include colourised versions of all 30 Season 1 episodes (in standard-definition) plus the 1985 reunion telemovie‘I Dream of Jeannie: 15 Years Later’(in high-definition) plus an audio commentary with Eden, Hagman and Daily, and more.
22-DISC BLU-RAY SET + 300-page hardcover booklet in Limited Edition Hardbox packaging. 1500 copies only.
For more details and views of complete packaging, click here.
PRESS RELEASE | FOR RELEASE ON:Wednesday,
October 2, 2024
Media Contact: Bruce Crawford402-393-4884c165@radiks.net
Cult Classic ‘An American Werewolf in
London’ to be Screened in Omaha with Special Guest David Naughton
Omaha, NE – October 2, 2024 – Omaha’s beloved film historian Bruce
Crawford is thrilled to announce his 51st tribute to classic motion pictures,
featuring a special screening of the 1981 comedy-horror classic An American
Werewolf in London. This unforgettable event will occur on Friday,
October 25, 2024, at 7:00 PM at the Omaha Community Playhouse (6915
Cass Street).
This
screening will be highlighted by the presence of An American Werewolf in
London’s star David Naughton, who portrayed the lead role of David
Kessler. Fans of the film will have the unique opportunity to meet Naughton,
hear him speak on-stage alongside Bruce Crawford before the movie, and
participate in an exclusive meet-and-greet session following the screening.
An American Werewolf in London, directed by John Landis, has become
a cult classic known for its groundbreaking special effects, dark humor, and
horror. The film follows two American backpackers who are attacked by a
werewolf while traveling in England, setting off a chilling and humorous
transformation. The film won the inaugural Academy Award for Best Makeup and
has left an indelible mark on the horror-comedy genre.
David
Naughton, an accomplished actor and singer, gained widespread recognition not
only for his starring role in the film but also for his work in Disney’s Midnight
Madness (1980), his hit song Makin’ It, and his role in the iconic
Dr Pepper "Be a Pepper" ad campaign.
Tickets
for this one-of-a-kind screening event are priced at $30, with proceeds
benefiting the Omaha Parks Foundation. The Foundation’s mission is to
preserve, protect, and support the Omaha Park & Recreation System,
providing vital green spaces and recreational opportunities for the community.
Tickets go on sale October 2, 2024, and can be
purchased by calling (402) 708-0075 or online at omahaparksfoundation.org.
Don’t
miss this incredible chance to experience a legendary film and meet one of its
stars—all while supporting a great cause!
Jeff
Randall (Mike Pratt, an Ivor Novello Award-winning songwriter, musician and
Shakespearean actor) is a down-at-heel private investigator who, along with his
partner Marty Hopkirk (popular comedian and TV actor Kenneth Cope), spends most
of his time taking photos of cheating husbands and worrying about paying the
bills. And when Marty is suddenly killed whilst investigating a potential
murder, leaving behind his young wife Jean (Australian actress Annette Andre,
who had been a regular face on many ITC shows), it seems things just can't get
any worse. Trying to come to terms with the loss of his partner and friend,
Mike thinks he must be going mad when his phone keeps ringing and a voice claims to be Marty. In fact, the deceased has
indeed come back from the dead, wearing a clean white
suit. Initially the ghost wants to solve his own murder and bring the
culprits to justice, but he then finds that according to the rules he must now haunt
Jeff for 100 years, so he continues to help solve cases whilst also keeping a
watchful eye on his widow. Most of the time only Jeff can see him, but he soon
learns the kinds of tricks that effectively make him a friendly poltergeist who
often helps to save his partner and crack the case.
Randall
and Hopkirk (Deceased) was seen by many reviewers at the time
as a failure, which was either not serious enough or not funny enough. The TV
detective show was a bit of a cliché even then, and despite the rather neat
twist of having a ghost as a partner, this was not enough to save it from
cancellation after only twenty-six episodes. It also did not sell well in
America, which was a major part of the ITC business model. This was not really
a surprise given that unlike many of their shows, this one did not have an
American actor in the lead. This is a great pity as Randall and Hopkirk
(Deceased)is now looked back on with great
fondness, probably due to the popularity of its
repeats in the eighties and nineties. There’s great chemistry between the three
leads, a good number of intriguing plots, some nice comedy moments and lots of
terrific location shooting around London. It’s great fun, and all twenty-six
episodes have been fully restored here by Imprint and look terrific in HD.
There are many familiar faces from British television in the series, such as
Frank Windsor, Ronald Lacey, Norman Bird, Lois Maxwell, Freddy Jones, Juliet
Harmer, Jane Merrow, Anton Rodgers, Sue Lloyd and Dudley Sutton, as well as a
stellar lineup of directors, including Roy Ward Baker, Cyril Frankel, Leslie
Norman and Ray Austin. It’s a who’s who of the late sixties British film and
television industry.
The
series was previously available on Blu-ray from Network, but this new
region-free limited edition hardboxversion
includes many new features and restored elements, including three different
versions of the opening credits (original version, UK broadcast version and the
retitled American version My Partner the Ghost, supposedly because it
was feared that Americans wouldn’t know what ‘Deceased’ mean!t). There are four
new featurettes featuring co-star Annette Andre, ITC historian Jaz Wiseman and
restoration expert Jonathan Wood, a new commentary from show creator Dennis
Spooner’s daughter Elaine, as well as the full run of bonus material created
for previous home video releases. The commentary tracks feature original cast
and directors, and there is an excellent 40-minute long making of featurette
(narrated by Ian Ogilvy!). A real treat for nostalgia buffs is the inclusion of
some additional sixties television featuring Mike
Pratt – The Man in Room 17 – and Annette Andre – Gideon's Way –
plus an entire Edgar Wallace Mysteries film starring Kenneth Cope! As if
this wasn’t all enough already, Network’s former historian extraordinaire
Andrew Pixley is now Imprint’s historian extraordinaire and has written an
extensive collectible booklet detailing the entire genesis and production
history of the show. The booklet also reproduces plenty of original publicity
material.
As
Imprint continues to restore and release ITC titles, very much picking up the
reins from the much-lamented Network here in the UK, one hopes that many more
of these fantastic titles will continue to be restored and released. The
Saint is perhaps one of the ‘Holy Grails’ when it comes to ITC shows in
need of an HD or upgrade, closely followed by Danger Man. Imprint have
become one of the best boutique labels in the world for collectors and fans of
1960s television and pop culture, and we at Cinema Retro eagerly await
their future releases.
Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) - The Complete
Series (1969) can be ordered direct from Imprint by clicking here.(Note: prices are in Australian dollars. Use currency converter for non-Australian orders.)
If you
are fan of these shows you should also check out the podcast by the
aforementioned ITC historian Jaz Wiseman, ITC Entertained the World: https://jazwiseman.podbean.com/
Here's an exciting scene from director Brian G. Hutton's classic 1969 WWII adventure "Where Eagles Dare" starring Richard Burton, Clint Eastwood and Mary Ure, all set to Ron Goodwin's stirring musical score.
(Kristofferson in "A Star is Born". (Photo: Warner Bros.)
By Lee Pfeiffer
Kris Kristofferson has passed away at age 88. Kristofferson enjoyed two successful careers simultaneously, as a singer/songwriter and leading man on the big screen. Kristofferson had a colorful life that included a stint in the military, studying under a Rhodes Scholarship and earning a Golden Gloves boxing honor. Inspired by seeing Bob Dylan perform, Kristofferson turned his talents toward writing and performing songs. Some of his biggest hits were cover versions recorded by other artists. :Me and Bobbie McGee" became a signature song for Janis Joplin. Johnny Cash is the artist most associated with "Sunday Morning Coming Down" and Sammi Smith had a major hit with "Help Me Make It Through the Night". He soon became a success in his own right and formed the band The Highwaymen with Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson. (The three also starred in the 1986 TV remake of John Ford's 1939 classic Western "Stagecoach".) Kristofferson successfully clicked with audiences in movies, playing the leading man in such diverse fare as the 1976 remake of "A Star is Born" opposite Barbra Streisand, Martin Scorsese's "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore", Sam Peckinpah's "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid", "Convoy" and "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia", "Semi-Tough", the sensual drama "The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea" and "Big Top Pee-Wee". Kristofferson also had the top-billed role in director Michael Cimino's epic 1980 western "Heaven's Gate", but the film's colossal failure at the boxoffice affected Kristofferson's career. He would later recall that the prime, starring roles began to dry up. In recent years, however, the film has been favorably re-evaluated by critics and movie fans.
Kris Kristofferson was a true music legend, one of the last of his kind. His songs are sure to live on as they are interpreted by new generations of performers.
Here's a highlight from the 1962 MGM Cinerama epic "How the West Was Won". This sequence, focusing on the Civil War, was directed by John Ford and stars George Peppard and Russ Tamblyn as combatants who find humanity (at least briefly) amidst the carnage. John Wayne portrays General Sherman and Harry Morgan plays General Grant.
Dame Maggie Smith has passed away at age 89. A two-time Oscar winner, she enjoyed a long and highly successful career. In fact, it seemed that the older she got, the more in-demand she became, playing iconic roles in the Harry Potter films and the "Downton Abbey" TV series and feature films. Here is a BBC tribute to her life and career.
Here are some highlights from the 1967 London Royal World Premiere of the fifth James Bond film, "You Only Live Twice", attended by Her Majesty, who was known to be a fan of the 007 films. Unfortunately, the footage is silent, but we do get glimpses of the Queen being greeted by Sean Connery (with wife Diane Cilento), who was sporting long hair and a mustache at the time. Among others in attendance was an eclectic group including Dick Van Dyke (who was filming "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" for Bond producer Cubby Broccoli at Pinewood Studios), Laurence Harvey, screenwriter Roald Dahl and wife Patricia Neal, Phil Silvers, Tony Bennett and Jerry Lewis, who can't resist clowning around.
A rakish playboy advertising executive – and was there any other
kind in the 1960s? – Gary Fenn (Roger Moore) is seducing models and winning
contracts when his life is turned upside down after being drawn into a
complicated plot involving anarchists, fascists and peaceniks. All this is
because he meets Hungarian model Marla Kogash (Claudie Lange, who resented
constant being compared to Sophia Loren, even though she really did resemble
her) who has accidentally become a witness to a conspiracy to assassinate a
world leader attending official events in London. Taking a lot of cues from
Hitchcock’s ‘wrong man’ formula (with plenty of nods to North by Northwest,
Topaz and even Vertigo along the way), Fenn is forced to flee
both the bad guys and the police with Miss Kougash (whom Fenn sarcastically
dubs ‘Miss Goulash’) as he tries to solve the plot and clear his name.
Made immediately after completing his six series run on The Saint
as star and occasional director, Crossplot can be viewed as Roger
Moore’s pitch to play James Bond; the character of Gary Fenn is a hit with the
ladies, handy with his fists and can save the day in the nick of time.
Utilising many of the same cast and crew from The Saint, including
director Alvin Rakoff, as well as shooting at Elstree Studios, Crossplot also
feels in many ways like a feature film adventure for Simon Templar. It came
about because producer Robert S. Baker had formed a company with Roger Moore and
in 1968 they struck a two-picture distribution deal with United Artists, of
which Crossplot was the first. Owing to Moore being kept busy on The
Persuaders quickly followed by James Bond however, the second film never
got made and the deal expired.
As related by Roger Moore’s longtime agent, biographer and friend
(and regular Cinema Retro contributor) Gareth Owen on the new commentary
for this disc, Crossplot was not very well handled by United Artists and
as a result did not do as well at the box office as it deserved. A consequence
of which is that it has remained something of a forgotten film in Moore’s
filmography, overshadowed by his next film – a genuine classic – The Man Who
Haunted Himself. This is a pity as Crossplot is great fun. There is
an excellent use of London locations, including the Thames and the then modern
architecture around Paternoster Square by St Paul’s Cathedral (the Blu-ray
features a fascinating documentary about these remarkable new buildings, now
gone, by historian and film colourist Jonathan Wood). The costumes, along with
the soundtrack by Stanely Black who was a popular bandleader and composer,
perfectly captures the late sixties ambience. The tone is light-hearted and the
action is exciting, and then there is the cast! This is Roger Moore’s film, but
he is surrounded by some greats of sixties British cinema including Dudley
Sutton, Gabrielle Drake, Alexis Kanner, Francis Matthews, Veronica Carlson and
Bernard Lee, sharing the screen with Moore for the first time here. Oscar-nominated
American actress Martha Hyer also takes an important supporting role. If you
look carefully you’ll even spot strongman and future Darth Vader, Dave Prowse,
who like so many involved in this film had also appeared in The Saint.
This new restoration by Imprint is a vast improvement on previous
DVD releases and comes with a fantastic range of bonus features including the excellent
aforementioned commentary track by Gareth Owen with film historian Henry
Holland, and the documentary on Paternoster Square and sixties London
architecture. There are also new interviews with Alvin Rakoff and cast members Norman
Eshley, Michael Culver, Prudence Drage and Stephen Garlick, an archival
interview with Francis Matthews, and for film restoration nerds like this
reviewer, an illuminating featurette on the techniques used to restore Crossplot.
All this and the disc is region free too!
Imprint are doing such great work in bringing back these great
forgotten British films, alongside their sterling work with ITC shows like The
Persuaders and Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased). It’s going to be
exciting to see what other neglected gems and genuine classics are yet to come.
These are the kinds of releases that us retro collectors truly savour.
Here are selection of 16mm TV spots from the 1978 macabre comedy "The End", starring and directed by Burt Reynolds. The spots feature original footage of Reynolds clowning with Dom DeLuise (who stole the film in a hilarious performance) and Norman Fell.
In an interesting article by Jacob Slankard for Collider, it's pointed out that director Christopher Nolan is an admirer of Sidney Lumet's 1965 military prison drama "The Hill". The film is quite simply a masterpiece, with star Sean Connery and a supporting cast giving brilliant performances. The film didn't find its audience when released in 1965, though it did get critical acclaim and an enthusiastic response when Connery appeared for its premiere at the Cannes Film Festival. However, audiences were immune to Connery's non-James Bond films during this era, much to the actor's frustration. However, over the years, praise for "The Hill" has grown and it's fitting that one of today's leading directors is paying tribute to this extraordinary achievement in filmmaking.(Lee Pfeiffer)
Few would have argument with Shakespeare’s belief that
all the world’s a stage, but for some folks the stage was simply not
enough.It certainly wasn’t for Edgar
Lansbury, the younger brother of actress Angela Lansbury.Edgar Lansbury was a significant figure of
New York City theatre, having produced a number of Broadway dramas and musicals
from 1954 on.One of his earliest collaborators
was a renaissance man of New York’s theatre scene, Joseph Beruh.Beruh and Lansbury became acquainted when the
former was cast in the Lansbury’s 1954 production of Brecht and Weill’s Threepenny Opera at Greenwich Village’s
Lucille Lortel Theatre.
Beruh would subsequently and dependably multitask in all
of Lansbury’s productions circa 1957-1970.Beruh wore many different hats during this period: as performer, General
Manager, Assistant Stage Manager and Production Assistant.In 1972, Beruh seemingly was given his
due.He and Lansbury were now co-producing
shows in midtown Manhattan as full partners, first with playwright Paul
Foster’s Elizabeth I at Manhattan’s
Lyceum and later with the Stephen Schwartz/Bob Randall musical The Magic Show at the Cort.
Prior to their partnership, Lansbury alone chose to test
openings into the film industry.His interest
was practical and, in the words of one newspaper columnist, due to the
“precarious state of Broadway [which] almost forces theatre producers to
diversify.”The resulting film, The Subject Was Roses (1968), would
feature Broadway actor Jack Albertson reprising his stage role in Lansbury’s
stage production.The actor was cast alongside
Patricia Neal, the latter valiantly struggling back from suffering a series of
debilitating strokes.The film itself was
playwright Frank D. Gilroy’s cinematic adaptation of his own successful drama.As a
theatrical drama, The Subject Was Roses
ran for nearly two years and 832 performances from May 1964 through May 1966,
successfully staged at several New York City venues. Though Lansbury’s film
version performed only modestly well at the movie box office, both Neal and
Albertson were honored by the Academy, each nominated, respectively, in the Best
Actress in a Leading Role and Best Actor in a Supporting Role categories.
Lansbury’s second foray into feature film production
would be with new partner Joseph Beruh acting as co-producer.The picture was James Ivory’s The Wild Party (1975), a dramatic comedy
set in the Roaring ‘20s.The Wild Party, which featured James
Coco and Raquel Welch, also did not tally up as a successful domestic
release.This was in part, no doubt, due
to the fact the MGM film did not enjoy a widespread general release in the U.S.Looking to broker an overseas deal to
capitalize on their disappointing investment, the producers brought the film to
the film festival at Cannes that same year.
It was at Cannes that Lansbury and Beruh discovered the
foreign market’s seemingly insatiable interest in acquiring low-budget horror
films for distribution.A friend and
colleague happened to be in Cannes that very same year, to showcase his newest
horror picture already raking in bushels of cash.As Beruh recalled, this friend “told us how
well it did it Europe and how much money it was making.”So the two prospective producers graciously attended
a screening of their friend’s fright pic cash-cow.They discovered, to Beruh’s surprise, that
their friend’s film “was terrible.We
decided we could make a horror film far better than that.”
The seed idea of producing a low-budget horror was appealing
to them.It certainly triggered their
safe-bet business acumen, and seemed reasonable to invest in an inexpensive horror
pic upon their return home.Should their
horror picture perform poorly in the States, there was still the safeguard of
selling and distributing the pic oversea to offset any domestic loss.Their decision to move forward with their
plan was wise and prudent.Even before their
very first horror pic, Squirm (1976),
was set to unleash at cinemas and drive-ins across the U.S., foreign market pre-sales
had already guaranteed they’d recoup all of their investment.
The question was where to start?“It’s easier said than done to find a good
script,” Lansbury explained to one entertainment journalist.In a separate interview with a news writer
from Rochester, New York’s Democrat and
Chronicle, Lansbury more fully explained, “There aren’t many good writers,
especially in this genre.Too many of
the scripts are actually tongue-in-cheek comments on horror films […].We wanted a real story of terror and
suspense.”“We looked at about forty [scripts]
in the next few weeks and finally found Jeff Lieberman,” he offered to columnist
Joan E. Vadeboncoeur.There was a major
sticking point, however: Lieberman would “sell the script only on the condition
that he’d direct the project.
“It was a big risk, but a good one,” Lansbury would offer
in retrospect.Lieberman was an unknown,
but had been “remarkably eloquent speaking about his project and he had done
editing for an art film company.”Beruh,
for his part, also was intrigued by the script for Squirm, not interested in financing a Vincent Price Gothic-type of
horror film.Beruh too was looking to
find a script offering a scenario fresh and original.As he remembered it, the sorting through
piles of prospective scripts was challenging and tiring.“We were sitting around the office one day,”
he told newsman Gene Grey, “wondering why nobody had written a good horror
film.”That changed when a “long-haired
kid, Jeff Lieberman” came in to pitch his screenplay.“We liked his script a lot,” Beruh confessed,
“but there was a catch.He wouldn’t sell
it unless he got the chance to direct it.”
As Lieberman recalls, the film producer Edward R.
Pressman – who had recently oversaw production of Brian De Palma’s horror-rock
musical Phantom of the Paradise
(1974) was also interested in Squirm.But it was Lansbury and Beruh who moved more
aggressively to seal a deal.The two
executive producers immediately turned to Samuel Z. Arkoff’s
American-International Pictures – the distributor of their ill-fated The Wild Party – for advice and financing.This was a prudent move as Arkoff’s A.I.P.
had a long, storied history of giving young, untested talent a chance of entry
into the film industry.To be sure, Arkoff
wasn’t a particularly generous, benevolent benefactor in this regard.But he was certainly well aware that young, aspiring
talent would work the hardest – and, perhaps more importantly - for the least
amount of financial recompense.
Jeff Lieberman was a self-confessed admirer of the films
of Alfred Hitchcock and, according to Lansbury, closely “modeled his script
after that master.” (Upon the film’s release, several critics noted the
similarities of Lieberman’s film to Hitchcock’s The Birds (1963). Though Lieberman’s credentials were slim, he was
no neophyte nor amateur.He had already
incorporated his own business, Jeff Lieberman Associates, writing and producing
a number of documentaries titled “The Art of Film,” distributing the series
through college film studies programs.He had also written and directed a twenty-minute long satirical short
titled The Ringer (1972), which
garnered prizes at film festivals in Atlanta, Chicago and Washington D.C.
In two of this releases Special Features included in this
set, “Digging In: The Making of Squirm”
and “Eureka! A Tour of Locations with Jeff Lieberman” the writer/director
reminisces the first draft of the film script was initially written –
literally, on yellow-legal pad sheets – circa 1973 when he was all of 25 or 26
years old.Unable to type, his wife was
consigned to that duty, thinking her husband’s scenario as imagined was “the
worse I ever heard.”Though she would be
proven wrong, the very idea of a sea of monstrous worms surfacing from the soil
to feed on human flesh had been inspired by an unusual set of circumstances.
Lieberman’s science-minded older brother had read in an
issue of the scouting Boy’s Life
magazine that if one transmitted electric impulses (via a model train
transformer) through soil, this would cause earth worms to be drawn to the
surface.The curious brothers would
experiment to that effect, the then thirteen/fourteen year old future filmmaker
learning such trails of electrification to be true.A decade later - and having grown up in the
era Timothy Leary still-legal LSD experimentations - Lieberman chose to
dose.The experience with acid triggered
memories of his earlier backyard scientific experiments - and hallucinations of
a terrifying worm onslaught.All grist
for the writer’s mill…
Lieberman’s story (as filmed) is set in the backwoods
town of Fly Creek, Georgia, a remote, mostly desolate tourist destination for
antique hounds and fishermen.A sassy,
red-haired local gal, Geraldine “Geri” Sanders (Patricia Pearcy) lives on the
outskirts of town with her sister Alma (Fran Higgins) and widowed mother Naomi
(Jean Sullivan).The Sanders live
astride a Worm Farm operated by the crusty Willie Grimes (Carl Dagenhart) and
his simpleton son Roger (R.A. Dow).Geri
has been mooning for a New York City boy, Mick (Don Scardino) whom she met
sometime back and invited to visit under the guise of helping him locate
antiques.Mick’s visit does not sit well
with jealous Roger who too has been holding a torch for Geri.
There’s lots of exposition in the film’s first reel, and
we meet a number of locals – including Sheriff Reston (Peter MacLean) who
appears to have little patience for city-slicker Mick.The unfriendly townsfolk are “suspicious of
strangers,” as per Geri.It doesn’t help
that Mick’s visit coincides with a local emergency.A powerful storm has swept through Fly Creek
flooding the town and making roads impassable.The town has been left with no power nor telephone capacities.The violent storm has in fact knocked over a
number of power towers, cascading live wires sending 300,000 volts of
electricity into the muddy soil.
Regardless, Geri drives Mick over to Aaron Beardsley’s
antique shop for a look, but the old man is oddly nowhere to be found.They do find a skeleton on Beardsley’s
property that might, or might not, be him.It’s around this time that Mick transforms into one of the Hardy Boys,
trying to unravel the Beardsley mystery, even breaking into a medical office to
examine the old man’s dental records.Mick eventually deduces that it was the sudden conduction of fallen
electric wires with “soaking mud” that has summoned 250,000 flesh-eating worms,
nightly, to feast on the townspeople.That’s the story at its most basic anyway.There’s a subplot or two woven into the
storyline as well, but the rest of the film leaves viewers to contemplate who
will or who will not survive this awful “night of crawling terror.”
“This was the night of crawling terror” was the
promotional tag of the film’s one-sheet poster.The producers were initially unhappy that the film was being marketed as
simply another “animal fright film,” a genre now in vogue, especially in
following the runaway success of Spielberg’s Jaws.Beruh told journalist
Carol Wilson Utley he thought Squirm
was more Hitchcock in its styling and more frightful than Jaws.After all, Beruh
reasoned, “sharks are just in the ocean” and, should one choose, absolutely avoidable.On the other hand, “worms are
everywhere.”Beruh was also put off by
the horrific poster art commissioned for the film, a garish, colorful image of
worms and corpses and tree trunks emanating from a grimacing, evil skull. “This is not just another horror movie,” Beruh
defended.“It’s also a good movie – a
well-made movie.But to insure its
success they want to get all the real hardcore horror fans out.”
Squirm was
given a budget of some $400,000 with photography to commence in November of
1975.Lieberman’s original script set
the film in New England, amidst a “Lovecraft type” of fishing village.The problem was that the New England climate
was thought too inhospitable for a November filming.There was one lifeline.The state of Georgia was slowly becoming a
hub of film production, Georgia’s Department of Community Development happy to
welcome prospective film projects to the area.One of the more recent and successful projects launched in the Peach
State was United Artist’s Burt Reynolds’s action pic Gator (1976), that film’s box office success having sparked
interest in Georgia’s low-cost hospitality.
The one drawback in this dramatic change of scenery was
that many of the New York area actors originally considered for roles were now redundant.The geographic change to slangy southern dictions
would cause both re-scripting and the casting of local talent (and even a
number of non-actors) for roles in the production.One budding actress anxious to be cast was twenty-one
year old Kim Basinger, who even agreed to taking on the role of Geri Sanders
even though it called for a nude scene.Lieberman retrospectively sighs his decision to pass on casting Basinger
was likely an opportunity lost for fanboys everywhere.The leading players of the cast were proven
professionals gleaned from New York, Massachusetts and Texas.
The primary location shooting of Squirm was to commence in the seacoast town of Wentworth and areas
near Savannah. Principal photography
began in Savannah on Monday, 10 November.Serving as executive producers (George Manasse would produce), Lansbury
and Beruh would form a limited partnership, appropriately named “The Squirm
Company,” to oversee production of the film.Box Office would report the
film was in the can by early January of 1976.That said, things got off to a rough start.Lieberman recalls that due to a generator having
exploded on the first day of filming, as director he had already fallen behind
the agreed upon production schedule by the third day of shooting.
This nearly resulted of his dismissal, New York executives
angry of not getting any of the promised rushes to view as demanded.Lieberman recollects it was the film’s
cinematographer, Joseph Mangine, who saved him, advising him to abandon his
idea of shooting the film in sequential sequence and instead concentrating on getting
as much footage in the can as quick set-ups and breakdowns allowed.Within days of going this route, the crew was
back on schedule.The autumn weather –
even that of southern Georgia – was alternately sunny then grey, gloomy and
overcast.Leading actor Don Scardino
(“Mick”), who would soon work with Lansbury and Beruh on the Broadway stage production
of Godspell, thought the mixed weather
and inclusion of local talent brought the film, “a strange, truthful
ambiance.”
For the film’s exciting conclusion, some 250,000 worms
were brought in to complete the final “big” sequence.This required the assistance of a local Boy
Scout troop “to assist in the handling” of the worms.In fact, the scouts were buried strategically
and hidden under mounds of worms – real and of rubber – and tasked to bounce beneath
as to create the “percolating” mass we see on-screen.For their trouble, each Scout was reportedly promised
a Merit Badge.It must be said that
Lieberman’s direction is effective in bringing to the film a sense of creepy,
growing tension.The micro close-up cut
in shots of real-life fanged worms are certainly disturbing.There is a bit of gore, but not as much as
one might expect from a film of this type.Lieberman would tell the Rochester Democrat
and Chronicle, “My violence is implied.I believe a filmmaker can never present on screen as much violence as an
audience’s own mind can imagine.”
Variety reported
that with editing of Squirm near
completion, distributor previews would begin in New York City the week of 12
April, with secondary screenings to follow in Los Angeles the week of 19 April.In June, Lansbury and Beruh brought the film
to Cannes, choosing to “pack the four […] screenings with non-pro locals, thus
giving potential buyers a taste of how the general public would react to the
film.” This gambit paid off and by the festival’s end they had made a deal with
no fewer than sixteen territories at a guarantee of a half-million dollars.To the confusion on many industry watchers, the
shrewd Arkoff instructed the producers to forego any “terrific” upfront and
advance foreign deals and instead choose what initially appeared to be mere
“reasonable” percentage offerings.This percentage
decision was a wise one as the film performed exceptionally well in the United
Kingdom and other European markets.
Closer to home, the filmmakers were looking for an open
spot on the future release roster of a major Hollywood studio.They thought they saw opportunity for
Columbia Pictures to bring their modest horror-meller to theatres
nationwide.The publicity department at
Columbia thought Squirm as a great investment
and a cash-generating exploitable.The
only thing required was the blessing of Columbia Pictures president David
Begelman.The deal might have happened had
it not been for the intervention of Begelman’s wife.Begelman’s significant other happened to
attend the Squirm screening with him,
mortified and aghast at the Glycera-inspired carnage unfolding before her
eyes.She convinced him not to have
anything to do with what she thought cinematic trash.Her advice proved ill-informed and costly. The
film was ultimately picked up by Paramount.
If Paramount was a big winner, so was Lieberman, A.I.P., Lansbury
and Beruh.The two producers quickly signed
Lieberman to a fresh contract to deliver a second sci-fi thriller of his own
scripting, another LSD-inspired fever-dream titled Blue Sunshine.Following the
test-market of Squirm in Buffalo, New
York, Paramount released the film, to the excitement of horror movie devotees in
the several regional markets, on Wednesday 14 July 1976.
(Today marks the date that "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." premiered 60 years ago. We reached out to Craig Henderson, who provided enough in-depth background reporting on the stories of the eight "U.N.C.L.E." feature films that we ran the articles over eight consecutive issues. How well-acquainted is Craig with all things U.N.C.L.E? Well, both Robert Vaughn and David McCallum told us that Craig provided more information about the feature films than even they were aware of. Now Craig turns his attentions to the series' origins and the mix of high profile and talented people who were involved at various stages...including James Bond creator Ian Fleming. So Open Channel D and enjoy!)
By
Craig Henderson
If
you were a kid at the time “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” premiered on Sept. 22,
1964, it’s virtually impossible to believe that 60 years have passed since the
debut of the first TV series to create its own new and fascinating world, seizing
the imaginations of millions of viewers and never letting them go.
It’s
equally difficult to believe that — unlike most TV series created by a single
writer-producer — U.N.C.L.E. was the result of a long series of events that
were all happenstance, and if any one of them had not occurred, the show as we
know it never would have existed.
For
example, James Bond author Ian Fleming wrote his 007 novels for eight years
before he finally decided he needed a big-time agent who knew the movie and
television business. He went with the Hollywood entertainment colossus MCA in
the summer of 1959, making Phyllis Jackson his representative in the United
States. Two years later, Harry Saltzman and Cubby Broccoli bought the film
rights to James Bond. But another year later, in the summer of 1962, MCA bought
Universal Studios and the U.S. government filed an anti-trust suit, forcing the
company to choose between operating a talent agency or a film studio. MCA
dissolved its agency, leaving all the agents free to go anywhere and take their
clients with them. Jackson and a dozen other former MCA agents landed at Ashley-Steiner,
a smaller but highly successful agency.
At
almost the same time, Jack Ball, an executive at the world’s largest
advertising agency J. Walter Thompson, was becoming aware of the growing
popularity of Fleming’s books, especially since the publicity about President
John F. Kennedy reading them and the upcoming October release of the first Bond
film “Dr. No.” He was sure an Ian Fleming TV series would be a hit, and the
perfect program to be sponsored by one of the agency’s biggest clients, the
Ford Motor Company.
And
still at almost the same time, Norman Felton, a very successful TV producer who
was also an Ashley-Steiner client, was telling his agent Alden Schwimmer that
he was “getting a bit restless in terms of the series I’d been doing,” dramatic
shows about doctors, lawyers and other professionals. Felton had started as a
stage director and writer, moved into radio in the 1940s, then to live TV
dramas in the early 1950s. By 1960, he was in charge of all west coast
programming at CBS when Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer recruited him to take over its
faltering TV division. Felton made MGM into one of TV’s most reliable
suppliers. Then, after all the heavy dramatics he’d directed and produced over
the years, he told Schwimmer he thought it would be a fun change of pace to
make a series that was purely escapist entertainment, but something on a higher
order than TV’s typical private eyes.
A
few months later, Schwimmer informed Felton that he might have the answer. Jack
Ball was now focused on the possibility that Fleming’s upcoming travel book
“Thrilling Cities” could somehow become the basis for a TV adventure series. Felton
agreed to read the galleys but found nothing at all useful in the book,
labeling it “an unprovocative travel tome.” The disappointed Schwimmer and Ball
asked Felton if he didn’t have any other ideas, inspiring Felton to ad lib a
story about a mysterious international traveller who supposedly was a novelist
but was secretly a global troubleshooter reporting directly to the Secretary
General of the United Nations. Convinced they would have a surefire hit if
Fleming developed Felton’s idea, Ashley-Steiner quickly arranged a meeting between
the two in New York. On the last Monday in October, they were introduced in
Fleming’s hotel room, “and we were left alone for several days to come up with
something,” Felton recalled.
In
their three days together, Fleming contributed little that was useful. He named
their hero Napoleon Solo, and gave him an unseen boss referred to only as “He,”
with an attractive secretary named April Dancer. Felton found Fleming to be
friendly, charming and entertaining, but he was annoyed that Fleming preferred
to walk around Manhattan, telling stories about his wartime job in Naval
Intelligence rather than working on their TV project. After he returned to Los
Angeles, Felton cobbled together a short presentation for a series titled “Solo,”
combining some of his own ideas with material that Fleming famously scrawled on
11 Western Union telegram blanks.
Skimpy
as this presentation was, an Ian Fleming TV series did sound like a sure thing.
Ball sold it to Ford and NBC agreed to buy it without even seeing a pilot. All
that was left was for Ford and MGM to agree on a price for making the series —
and that’s where the project hit a brick wall in December. Felton went back to
work on his own shows and pilots. Fleming went to his annual winter retreat in
Jamaica where he spent January and February 1963 writing “You Only Live Twice.”
But
in March, when Fleming returned home to London, he traveled as always by way of
New York, where he talked over business with Phyllis Jackson and asked her
where “Solo” stood. His show of interest immediately brought the project back
to life. Within a month, a deal was drawn up spelling out Fleming’s
contributions and compensation on the series. NBC confirmed it still would buy
a Fleming series without a pilot, and Felton’s biggest problem was the fact
that his meetings with Fleming in New York convinced him the author would never
put in the time and effort to fully develop a TV series. That’s when the last bit
of serendipity that created “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” arrived.
Sam
Rolfe started writing for radio shows and movies, then created and produced the
hit Western series “Have Gun-Will Travel.” After six years at CBS he was tired
of writing pilots that didn’t sell. He was turning down offers to produce other
shows because producing in his opinion “was very hard work and there was more
money to be made at writing.” Rolfe’s agent happened to be Alden Schwimmer at
Ashley-Steiner, who insisted on showing him the pilot for Felton’s new series
“The Eleventh Hour.” Rolfe was hooked by the premise — a “forensic
psychiatrist” who evaluates people involved in legal and criminal issues — and
agreed to produce the show’s first season.
A
year later, Rolfe was preparing to leave MGM and “The Eleventh Hour” when
Felton asked him if he’d be interested in working on the Ian Fleming series
everyone around the office had heard about. Rolfe leaped at the chance. He
professed to being a Fleming fan, and he’d explored the same area in a pilot he
wrote for CBS titled “The Dragons and St. George.” The enthused Rolfe didn’t
just expand and polish the material Fleming and Felton had created. He came up
with an entirely new and extensive background for Solo, an international
security organization called U.N.C.L.E., headed by a Mr. Allison instead of
“He,” employing agents of all nationalities, even a Russian named Illya
Kuryakin, and engaged in recurring battles with a worldwide conspiracy known as
Thrush.
Rolfe
turned out a 75-page prospectus filled with background, characters and five
well-developed story outlines, sent to Fleming for his approval and additions. Then
Felton and Rolfe were stunned when, only weeks after accepting the deal his
agents negotiated for “Solo,” Fleming suddenly withdrew. Saltzman and Broccoli
convinced him not to lend his name to a series they saw as competition to their
Bond films. So Rolfe became the creative force behind “Solo,” writing the pilot
and signing on to produce the first season.
The
show’s title was lost the following April after Saltzman and Broccoli
threatened to sue because one of the characters in “Goldfinger,” their next
Bond film, was named Mr. Solo. Lawyers for each side finally wrangled out a
settlement: Solo the character could keep his name but “Solo” the title had to
change, an agreement that a bemused Felton admitted “I never could quite understand.”
Just before shooting started on June 1, 1964, it was NBC, not Felton or Rolfe,
that gave the series its new title, “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”
(Click here to visit "The Man From U.N.C.L.E" Episode Guide by Bill Koenig, which provides a synopsis and facts about every episode.)
In an article for Forbes, writer Marc Berman reflects of the impact of director Elia Kazan's 1954 masterpiece "On the Waterfront", the film that saw Marlon Brando finally win his Best Actor Oscar after having been nominated for the award in the three previous years. On the surface, the movie is about a man who finds the courage to turn on the scoundrels he called his friends. In reality, some see the film as Kazan's attempt to use the scenario in the script to justify his "naming names" during the McCarthy blacklist period. Nevertheless, the film retains its power and nothing negates the superb performances throughout. (Lee Pfeiffer)
“There
are worse things than murder. You can kill somebody an inch at a time.”
The words above are spoken by former boxer Ernie Driscoll
(John Payne) in a crucial scene in “99 River Street” (1953), a classic film
noir directed by Phil Karlson, (“Kansas City Confidential,” “The Phoenix City
Story”, “Walking Tall”) recently released on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber. For 83 jam-packed
minutes we watch as Karlson shows us how nearly everybody in Ernie’s life tries
to betray him, frame him for murder, or kill him. This is an exceptional Studio
Classics release that includes an excellent audio commentary by none other than
Eddie Muller, host of TCM’s Noir Alley.
When “99 River Street” begins, we see Ernie in a boxing
ring slugging it out with another contender for the heavyweight title. The
camera pulls in for tight close ups while an announcer breathlessly describes
the action. We see Ernie taking it on the chin, the jaw and finally his right
eye. Blood spurts and suddenly Ernie can’t see as his opponent keeps pounding
him. The referee calls the fight and the camera pulls back further and we see
we’re not in a boxing arena at all. We’re in a living room of an apartment and
the fight was actually showing on a TV set. The TV announcer reveals that this
was a rebroadcast of the fight that ended Ernie Driscoll’s career several years
ago. He never fought again.
So, with a sudden jolt Karlson has pulled us out of the TV
world and ushered us into the grim, real life world of Ernie Driscoll, who
couldn’t resist watching his life go down the drain one more time. He’s a cab
driver now and he’s accepted that that’s all he’ll ever be. His ambition now is
to make enough money to someday open a gas station. Sitting in the room with
him is his wife, Pauline (Peggy Castle, looking sexier than she ever did as
dancehall singer Lily Merill on the old Warner Bros. “The Lawman” TV series).
She mocks him for sitting through it and tells him she’s got to get to work. She’s
obviously fed up being married to a cab driver, knowing she’ll never have the
life she thought she’d have when she married him.
Ernie notices a new bracelet on her wrist, and she tells
him it’s just “costume jewelry.” It’s a
hint of the trouble to come. He drives her to her job in a downtown flower shop
and when he says he’ll pick her up at quitting time, she tells him not to
bother. Ernie drives to a diner where he meets up with Stan Hogan, (Frank
Faylen, who was a familiar face in a number of film noirs and westerns, and may
be best remembered as Dobie Gillis’s TV dad). Hogan is Ernie’s former boxing
coach and current manager of the taxi company where Ernie works. Stan can see
Ernie’s not having a good day, and he knows why. He tells him not to let
Pauline bother him, “Buy her some flowers or candy,” he advises.
Stan leaves and Ernie is immediately joined by Linda
James (Evelyn Keyes), an aspiring actress and friend. She’s super excited about
an audition she’s going to have with a famous Broadway producer. It’s her big
chance. Ernie, despite his bad mood, wishes her luck and after she trots off,
he follows Stan’s advice and picks up a box of candy for Pauline.
When Ernie finishes his shift he drives over to the
flower shop with Pauline’s box of candy on the seat next to him, and that’s
when bad things starts to happen. He looks in through the flower shop window
and sees Pauline making out with a well-dressed dude (Brad Dexter, who is best
remembered, as Eddie Mueller says in the commentary, as the member of “The
Magnificent Seven”that nobody ever remembers). Pauline and the stranger come
out on the street and walk over to Ernie’s cab. When Pauline sees who’s driving,
she’s surprised to say the least. Ernie is seething with rage but instead of
confronting them, he shifts the cab into high gear and pulls out into the
traffic. He goes back to taxi headquarters and throws the box of candy at Stan,
and says he’s quitting. He shoves Stan and when Stan bumps his head on the hood
of one of the cabs. Ernie suddenly realizes what he’s doing and apologizes.
Stan gives him back the keys to his cab and tells him to go to their favorite
diner and he’ll join him later.
Ernie drives back to the diner and, while he’s waiting
for Stan, Linda shows up again, this time in a panic. The audition didn’t go so
well. Ernie’s got problems of his own but he listens when she tells him the
producer of the play tried to put his hands all over her, “his hot sweaty
hands.” She tells him she killed him and asks him to go to the theater where
she left him and try to figure out what to do. As if he didn’t have problems
enough, Ernie goes with her and finds a body lying on the floor of the darkened
stage. Linda gives a Tony-award winning portrayal of a woman who murdered
someone and when Ernie goes to examine the body, suddenly the theater lights
come on and people start laughing. The director, producer and publicist come
out of the darkness. Linda explains it was all a test to see if the play’s
script was believable. “I’m sorry, Ernie,” she says. “I couldn’t tell you. You
understand.”
Once again Karlson has pulled the rug out from under us.
Just as we were surprised to learn that the fight we were watching at the
beginning of the film was really a TV rerun, now we learn that what we thought
was a crime scene is actually a scene from a stage play. It’s a clever story
telling device. Ernie is in a rage. When they won’t stop laughing at him and
offer him twenty bucks for his time, he flattens the theatre guys with a few quick
professional- looking punches and storms out of the theater. The publicist
picks himself up and says he’s got a great idea. He calls the police, saying
the publicity the incident will bring will make the play an instant hit. Poor
Ernie, his troubles keep piling up. But what has happened up to this point is
nothing compared to what comes next. But that would be telling. I’ll just say
that Robert Smith’s ("Invasion USA", "Sea Hunt") screenplay, based on a short story
by George Zuckerman, is a masterpiece of tight plotting, where every scene is a
payoff of something that happened earlier. It’s like the kind of film noir that
Larry David (“Curb Your Enthusiasm”) would write, if he ever wrote a film noir.
Rather than give away any more of the story, let me just
say there are some fantastic scenes that give a number of actors familiar to
noir fans a chance to do their thing -- guys like Jay Adler as a shrewd fence
who uses a pet shop as a front, and Jack Lambert as his sadistic right hand man,
who likes to call everybody “Kitty.”
All of “99 River
Street” takes place in the space of one night and cinematographer Franz Planer
captures the deadly atmosphere of the street lights and wet streets of L A,
standing in this time for Jersey City and New York.
Here’s a trivia
question for you. Is it just a coincidence that the movie is about a
prizefighter and there’s a line of dialogue near the end when Ernie is trying
to calm Linda down and says: “The harder you’re hit, the harder you hit back?” Sound
familiar? How about it, Sly?
The disc comes with half a dozen trailers for other noirs
and films of John Payne and Phil Karlson. But the extra that makes this
possibly the best Blu-ray release of the year, IMHO, is Eddie Muller’s audio
commentary. Mueller does it the way it should be done but so seldom is. He’s
like a friend sitting next to you commenting on the film as it plays out scene
by scene, revealing inside dope about the actors and the production that only
someone who really knows his subject would know. It’s a pleasure to listen to
him. Alright, Eddie. I’ve buttered you up enough. Now I’ve got
a favor to ask. I’m sure you must be aware of the five-part Japanese version of
Raymond Chandler’s “The Long Goodbye” that was made as a TV miniseries a few
years ago and is now available on Blu-ray. I’d love to watch it. The only
problem for American viewers is that it’s only available in Japanese. Can’t you
pull some strings and get a subtitled or dubbed English version of it to show
on Noir Alley, or better yet, get it out on Blu-ray? Just thought I’d ask.
Back to “99 River Street.” I could say a lot more about
it but better you get the Blu-ray and see it for yourself. You won’t be sorry.
Like
many people my age, my first experience of movies was watching them on
broadcast television: being born in mid-1970s Britain, I grew up with three
available channels and no VCR. I have early memories of going to the cinema to
see Disney reissues, but the formative, important films were on TV. I first saw
my all-time favourite film, Jaws on television, and thanks to Armchair
Cinema I can pinpoint the date of its first and second outings, so I was
either five or six depending on which one my parents allowed me to stay up for.
Many Saturday afternoons were spent watching black and white films on BBC2, and
I got my first taste of Hammer Horror thanks to Friday night BBC screenings of
films like Dracula, Prince of Darkness. It is no exaggeration to state
that all my current film obsessions – horror, sci–fi, vintage comedy, James
Bond – come from growing up watching films on television. Like most people I
imagine, I took this for granted. They were always there, and it seemed like a
normal, sensible thing for television channels to do. Why wouldn’t films on TV
be a good idea? However, thanks to Sheldon Hall, I now know that things were
not always so straightforward.
When
television first began in 1936 the need to use 35mm film was recognised, as it
was the only way to play in material that was not being broadcast live. Unlike
24-hour television today, broadcasting was limited to just a few hours per day,
and only available initially in the London area to the few people who actually had
a television set. It was not until 1937 that the first film was broadcast on
British television, and although there were many technological hurdles to be
jumped over, it was the negotiations with various interested parties in the
film industry that proved the real challenge. In Armchair Cinema Sheldon
Hall has dug very deep into the archives to analyse documentation detailing
just how difficult the BBC found it in their first years of development to get
anywhere with the film industry, who were concerned about the impact it could
have on box office figures. I have also been recently reading about independent
Hollywood producer Robert L. Lippert’s almost ten-year battle with the Screen
Actors Guild over residuals following the sale of his films to television in
the early 1950s. It’s clear that the film industry was unprepared and unsure
how to deal with broadcasters, rights and residuals on both sides of the
Atlantic. Television was seen as a potential rival to cinemas, and arguably
with good reason: as television ownership increased, cinema attendance went
down.
The
ups and downs of this process of negotiation are covered in immense detail in Armchair
Cinema, from the early days when everyone involved was still working out
fundamentally what television was, the introduction of a second channel
comprised of independent companies, through to 1981 when Channel 4 was about to
launch and change the face of British film production at a time when it was all
but dead. The book also covers programming and regulation, with one chapter
focusing on the moral wranglings over whether to broadcast horror films (and
how to even define what a horror film was), and another on the way films could
be cut for broadcast: this was not only for censorship reasons but often to fit
films to schedules. Some film directors were outraged to see the way in which
their movies were butchered to make sure that the broadcaster got to the news
on time. So many aspects of films on television are discussed here in
engrossing detail.
Sheldon
Hall, film academic, writer and Radio Times enthusiast, has identified a
topic that I’m sure most of us have never given a second thought and turned it
into a fascinating research project which is written with personality and
authority. And, knowing the hard work Sheldon puts into proofreading and
correcting articles for Cinema Retro (including many written by me I’m
sure), you can be sure that every detail of Armchair Cinema has been
thoroughly checked and accurately referenced. Although published by an academic
press (meaning hardback copies are insanely expensive, but a paperback edition
is sure to follow in a year or so), the book is not a dry, theoretical tract: it
is eminently readable, giving us an insightful yet entertaining peak behind the
scenes at Broadcasting House (and the many regional Independent Television
equivalents). This is the film history book you never knew you needed.
I was initially unable to recall if John “Bud” Cardos’ Kingdom of the Spiders (1977) ever played
my neighborhood cinema back in the day.Thanks
to a quick rummage through old newspaper archives, I was able to confirm the
film did play at a few déclassé
cinemas – all car-length drives from home - in March of 1978.I apparently missed it.To be fair, I didn’t yet have a driver’s
license. I likewise didn’t catch the
film when it first played on HBO a mere two months later in May of ‘78.If memory serves, my town hadn’t yet been wired
to receive cable TV.
It’s less forgivable that I also missed the film upon its first free television broadcast, in
summer of 1980 on ABC-TV.The truth is,
my introduction to Kingdom of the Spiders
was very belated: I first caught it
as a retro double-bill with The Devil’s
Rain at the Mahoning Drive-in’s 35mm “Shatner Fest” in May of 2015.Yes, some thirty-eight years following the
film’s original release.Better late
than never, I guess.If nothing else,
this late viewing has allowed me to reflect on the film in 2024 without nostalgic
entrapment.
On first glance, Kingdom
of the Spiders appears to not offer anything new.Science-fiction and/or horror films that
featured monster spiders (whether they be regular or giant-sized) were not ground-breaking
cinema foils. As a kid sitting in front of the family’s Magnavox, I spent many
a night watching a plethora of web-spinning monsters on New York broadcasts of Chiller Theatre, Creature Features and Fright Night.A few of these films come immediately to
mind:The Incredible Shrinking Man, The
Spider, Tarantula, and Horrors of Spider Island.There were many others which I’m surely forgetting
at the moment.
April 22, 1970 was designated as the first Earth
Day.Though Earth Day would spark the
modern environmental movement in the U.S., it fell short of eradicating all pollution
and man-made poisons from our eco-system.The movement did seemingly
ignite an exploitable rash of “eco-horrors” and “animal attack” films – a newish
genre featuring decidedly gritty and grimy 1970’s episodes of bloody violence
and bad fashion choices.The genre
artistically and financially peaked with Spielberg’s version of Peter
Benchley’s Jaws (1975), but man vs.
nature Jaws rip-offs soldiered on
until the box office returns for such fare dribbled.Among those late-comers was Kingdom of the Spiders.Cardos’ film is neither the best nor the
worst of examples of the eco-horror film wave but, honestly, I know of few
folks who bring up memories of it in passing conversation.
Just following New Year’s Day of 1977, Lawrence H.
Woolner, drive-in owner and President of Los Angeles’ Dimension Pictures,
announced Kingdom of the Spiders as
one of a trio of new titles added to the company’s ambitious roster of upcoming
releases.Dimension was planning to issue
no less than thirty-seven theatrical films by year’s end. The earliest reports offered the screenplay for
Kingdom of the Spiders was to be a
collaborative effort of three authors:producer
Jeffrey M. Sneller and television writers Alan Caillou (perhaps best known for
his scripts for “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”) and Stephen Lodge.
The following month, Spiders
producers Sneller and Igo Kantor (of recently formed Arachnid Films) announced
actor Jim Mitchum was to feature as the film’s male lead, with both Woody
Strode and Slim Pickens to be cast in assisting roles.Sneller was particularly invested in the
project.He once served as assistant
director of the Arizona State Motion Picture Office and was determined to bring
production of the film to the Grand Canyon State.A few weeks following the Mitchum
announcement, the primary feminine lead roles were cast: actress Altovise Davis,
the wife of singer Sammy Davis Jr., was cast in the role as Strode’s wife,
Birch Colby, Tiffany Bolling as scientist Diane Ashley.Cameras were set to roll in the Arizona
desert before February’s end, the film slated for potential August release.
The first of 2nd Unit location shooting date
was scheduled to start in Sedona on February 28, though some reports suggest photography
began as late as 14 March.It was also
on March 14th that a full-page Dimension trade advertisement appeared
in Box Office, removing Mitchum and
Pickens’ names as cast members.Mitchum
was replaced in the role of Dr. Robert Hansen by William Shatner, Captain Kirk
of Star Trek fame.Since ending his fabled term as helmsman of
the Starship Enterprise, Shatner was
mostly seen on television, relegated to guest appearances on a staggering
number of seventies broadcast dramas.The
actor was finding any recognition as an actor of motion pictures
difficult.One recent big-screen exception
was his double-role in Robert Fuest’s satanic cult horror pic The Devil’s Rain (1975).But even there Shatner was ingloriously fourth-billed
behind Ernest Borgnine, Ida Lupino and Eddie Albert of Green Acres fame.
Principal photography of Kingdom of the Spiders - with the primary troupe all gathered - was
set to start on Monday, April 4.By 25
April Box Office was reporting that
shooting had already wrapped, with post
production to commence “immediately.”It
was also noted that Kingdom of the
Spiders was first Dimension production to enjoy the luxury of a one million
dollar budget.The army of imported
spiders – five-thousand assembled creepy-crawlers by most accounts – were necessary
to stage the scripted invasion.The
importation of spiders would consume $75,000 of the budget alone.Proudly boasting of the investment of time
and money into the pic, Dimension would promote Spiders as a “Wild Science Fiction Nightmare” in the trades.Though the film was scheduled for general
release in theaters on 12 August, Spiders
would in fact open earlier than that, in one hundred and fifty cinemas and
drive-in theaters in the Dallas-Fort Worth area as early as 22 July.
The film is set in the small, dusty town of Camp Verde,
amidst the Red Rock mountain vistas of nearby Sedona.The town is readying itself for its County
Fair, an annual tourist-attracting event bringing much needed dollars into the coffers
of the remote community.The troubles
begin when a local rancher, Walter Colby (Woody Strode) finds his prize calf badly
ailing.He summons local veterinarian
Dr. Robert “Rack” Hansen (a slim, reddish-tanned faced, Miller High Life
drinking Shatner) to diagnose.The calf cannot
be saved and dies of a strange, unknown cause. Hansen decides to send off blood
samples of the animal for diagnostic pathology.If the cow was suffering some communicable disease, a quarantine might
need to be invoked to protect future livestock losses.
This news is not greeted with enthusiasm by the town’s
Mayor (Roy Engel). A quarantine would disastrously affect the staging of the
County Fair.Unfortunately, things soon
take a further turn for the worse on the Colby farm.Within days both the rancher’s family dog and
stud Bull are found dead.With the concerning
results of the blood pathology tests in, Hansen is visited by blond-haired,
blue-eyed Diane Ashley (Tiffany Bolling), an entomologist from the University
of Arizona at Tempe.It’s Ashley’s suspicion
that the calf had been killed by “massive injections of spider venom.”The poisonous serum found in testing appears five
times more toxic than should register from a single spider bite. Having researched newspapers in the local area,
Ashley also discovers an alarming rise of classified ad notices concerning
missing animals and family pets.
Colby belatedly brings Hansen and Ashley to a giant
spider mound discovered on his property.He too blames this recent invasion of spiders for the deaths of prized
livestock.Hansen and Ashley soon
discovers there are “twenty to thirty” similar spider nest mounds spread
throughout the community.Ashley, now out
of business attire and dressing like a cowgirl, deduces the infestation is due
to the use of DDT and other pesticides.The chemicals have been killing off the crickets, birds and small mice
on which the spiders would traditionally feast.
Without access to their regular menu, armies of migrating
spiders are seeking alternate food sources, human or otherwise.With the big County Fair is only two weeks
away, the Mayor chooses to ignore Ashley’s warnings.He orders barrels of the “strongest pesticide
available” to be dropped across the area via a crop-dusting plane.Having ignored the science, the Mayor’s
ill-advised decision unleashes millions of ravaging spiders to descend on Camp
Verde.Hordes of spiders terrorize,
wreak havoc and go kill off cob-webbed residents (in ghastly fashion) as they attempt
to flee.To paraphrase Shakespeare, the
film’s scenarists have woven a gruesomely tangled web, one perhaps leading to a
dystopian end.
Throughout the summer and well into autumn, Dimension
rolled out Kingdom of theSpiders in waves of geographic
expansion:Boston, Charlotte, Houston,
Cincinnati, Memphis, Nashville, Chicago, Kansas City, Portland, Seattle, Philadelphia,
Pittsburgh and parts of Canada.Woolner
was especially pleased the film was performing well above expectation in Canada.The film had grossed some $15,000 within two weeks’
of play at Winnipeg’s Convention Center Theatre alone.(Since Shatner was Canadian-born, some reasoned
the success of the film up north was perhaps testimony to a deep-seated demonstration
of national pride).
In the final accounting, domestic returns for Kingdom of the Spiders were, at best, modest
and/or marginal.Film industry trades had
been reporting “fair” or “okay” or “mild” U.S. box office business as the film
moved from city-to-city.The film was ultimately
crushed – or perhaps more fairly “lost” – amongst the rush of competing big
league summer of ’77 contenders: The Spy
Who Loved Me, King Kong, You Light up My Life and Smokey and the Bandit. It’s not that audiences
were tiring of sci-fi, as some reasoned.It certainly wasn’t helpful that Star
Wars was continuing to vacuum up all of the summer’s sci-fi receipts - even
in its twelfth week of release.It was also
unhelpful that movie audiences had only recently sat through Bill Rebane’s The Giant Spider Invasion (1975) one-and-a-half-years
earlier.On first glance, accompanying publicity
materials for Kingdom of the Spiders seemed
to promise more of the same.
Regardless, the fact remain that Kingdom of theSpiders is
actually a pretty good film despite its (relatively) modest budget.With all of these real-life spiders crawling over
bodies and through the hair of the film’s cast, it’s enough to give even the
bravest of us a bad case of discomforting arachnophobia. When Spiders
belatedly hit Los Angeles in November of 1977, Variety acknowledged the film as having accomplished “exactly what
it sets out to do,” meeting audience expectations and creating its “creeps and
scares with care.”This, the review, rationalized
was due to the film’s “believable script.”Box Office praised Cardos’s
direction as “efficient and tasteful,” acknowledging his helmsman-ship “does
not yield to the temptation of overdoing shock scenes, but lets the terror
build up psychologically.”The Hollywood Reporter thought Spiders might prove “the sleeper of the
drive-in circuit” due to an “intelligent script, fine acting and outstanding
special effects.”
Such honorariums to Cardos’s film and cast were not
untrue.But it was the inclusion of the
army of real-life spiders brought in from Mexico, Honduras and elsewhere that
proved determining factors in creating the best moments of on-screen terror. While
resting in his mobile trailer near Camp Verde, Shatner confessed in an
interview with the Montreal Gazette
that working with the spider horde was a constant source of terror.He described the spiders as “disgusting
things.” He was finding it unbearable to tolerate, “the thought of those
thousands of tiny legs running all over my body.”
Shatner was especially distressed upon discovering the spiders
had a “tendency to shed their hairs as a form of protection.”This primal spider defense system left the
actors, “itching all over,” the pricks resulting in bad dermatological rashes.When asked why he would put himself in such an
unpleasant circumstance, Shatner bluntly replied, “I’m an actor and I’m being
paid.Sometimes the work is pleasant,
sometimes it isn’t.This most definitely
falls into the latter category."I
don’t think it unreasonable to suggest that the panicked eyes and fearful yelps
of Shatner’s on-screen performance was simply a case of good acting.There is also a more amusing aspect of the
film.It’s difficult not to notice the
rightfully panic-stricken Shatner had a tendency to indiscriminately flick spiders
into the direction of the very same folks he’s trying to protect.
Tiffany Bolling’s role is as consequential to the story
as Shatner’s, perhaps more so.Writer
Steven Lodge, who created the story with co-producer Sneller, offers in the film’s
earliest draft, Bolling’s Diane Ashley character was the pic’s singular scientist-hero.Shatner’s character was created and threaded
into the script by screenwriters Robinson and Caillou.Their weaving of “Rack” Hansen into the
scenario allows the film to enjoy a cat-and-mouse romantic angle.Though Bolling recalled Shatner as “great to
work with,” she also recalled his on-set flirtations a bit too uncomfortable, especially
as the actor’s wife was usually present.
This Kino Cult Blu ray release of Kingdom of the Spiders is presented in an aspect ratio of 1.85:1
and DTS-audio, with removable English subtitles. There’s a plethora of Special Features included on this new set: these
include three separate and exhaustive audio commentaries, though only one “new”
to those fans who have double (or triple) dipped on this title.The first “new” commentary provides a new-to-disc
overview of the film by the late critic/historian/author Lee Gambin.The second and third commentaries will be
familiar to those who already own copies of previous issues of Kingdom of the Spiders as released
through such companies as Shout! Factory and Code Red.
Also ported over from previous releases is the Lee
Christian and Scott Spiegel “moderated” discussion (featuring comments by
director Cardos, producer Kantor, cinematographer John Morrill and “spider
wrangler” Jim Brockett).This is also the
case of the third Marc Edward Heuck “moderated” discussion with Kantor and
actress Tiffany Bolling.Bolling is also
featured in a separate nine-minute interview segment via the Code Red release,
as is a brief (but informative) five-minute interview with the film’s story writer
Steve Lodge.With three commentaries and
such interviews on offer, it’s safe to say that the production history of Kingdom of the Spiders is well-covered,
to say the least.
In the pantheon of “monster spider” movies, Kingdom of the Spiders may arguably
appear more of a high-budget “made-for-television” movie than big screen
classic.In any case, it’s a film of
grisly creepy-crawling fun for those willing to be ensnared in its web.
In this edition of Joe Dante's addictive "Trailers from Hell", director John Landis analyzes John Wayne's final film, "The Shootist". He's not as enamored of it as many people are, but he concedes it has a great cast and a terrific finale. He also tells an amusing anecdote about being invited to the set by the film's director Don Siegel on the day they were filming Wayne's death scene in the movie. Prophetically, as we all know, it did prove to be the Duke's last appearance on the big screen.
Here's a real treat: the entire original soundtrack album from the Rat Pack "Gunga Din" remake set in the old West, "Sergeants 3", composed by Billy Mays.
(Click on the play button on the left side of the above bar.)
Here is a first-rate Smilebox presentation of the trailer for the 1965 Cinerama epic "Battle of the Bulge", courtesy of the terrific web site www.in70mm.com
I
have seen a handful of films that are pure cinema, exhilarating in their
pacing, scoring, and editing. George Miller’s The Road Warrior (1981),
Steven Spielberg’s Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), and Danny Boyle’s Trainspotting
(1996) are a few examples. Tom Tykwer’s feature film Run Lola Run (1998)
is no less heart-stopping. Its very premise pits itself against the audience
with a high degree of nail-biting scenarios that make us all ponder how we
would react if we found ourselves in a similar plight as our onscreen
protagonists. The film’s overall theme is about fate and chance and the
circumstances that we can find ourselves in when we make one decision over
another despite evaluating multiple alternatives. Filmed in the summer of 1997
and released in New York on Friday, June 18, 1999, this German-lensed high
energy amalgam of images and impulses boasts a premise that is decidedly
simple: small-time hood Manni (Moritz Bleibtreu) has just 20 minutes to return
100,000 Deutsche Marks to his boss Ronnie (Heino Ferch) or risk death.
Unfortunately, while riding the U-Bahn, a tussle with a homeless man causes Manni
to forget the bag of money on the train, leaving him in a horrendous position,
and to the delight of the homeless man. Tearfully begging his girlfriend Lola
(Franke Potente who starred in the Bourne films opposite Matt Damon), a
grey tank-top-sporting twenty-something with firecracker-colored red hair, for
help from a phone booth, they panic and strive to figure out how to keep Manni
alive.
There
are three consecutive scenarios running about 20 minutes each that play out
virtually identically and they all involve the same group of individuals, their
frantic pace barely coming up for air. However, the circumstances that occur are
disparate depending upon how Lola chooses to handle the situation: Lola, on the
run to the phone booth, slams into a woman on the street; an ambulance and a
pane of glass; and an unannounced visit to her father’s office at a bank in a
desperate bid to procure the required cash. At times she is humble, other times
she commandeers a security officer’s pistol and forces her father’s hand for
the cash. The onscreen action is propelled forward by a highly charged and
exceedingly intense techno score by Reinhold Heil, Johnny Klimek and the
director himself, which proves highly effective at conveying Manni and Lola’s
desperation. Irony and happenstance figure in the form of a blind woman, portrayed
by Moritz Bleibtreu’s real-life mother.
The
action stops twice to see flashbacks of the couple in bed following sex, their
images and discussions bathed in red light. Even Lola’s phone is red phone and,
in a nice nod to the jump cut from the bone to the nuclear weapon in Stanley
Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), the red phone and green bag of
money are both juxtaposed. It is an exhilarating ride that leaves the audience
breathless.
The original DVD was released on December 21,1999,
and it was followed up with a standard Blu-ray on February 18, 2008, for the
film’s tenth anniversary. The new Sony 4K
UHD Blu-ray looks terrific and ports over the original albeit minimal extras,
while adding a few more that probably appeared on international Blu-rays of the
film:
The
first audio commentary is with the director and the film editor Mathilde
Bonnefoy. This is spoken in German and there are optional English subtitles for
the commentary. They discuss the inspiration and the challenges of making the film,
including keeping track of the footage for the three segments.
The
second audio commentary is with the director and star Potente, and is
thankfully spoken in English with optional English subtitles. It is a fun and
spirited conversation that leaves the audience wanting to hear more.
Making-Of (2008) is a featurette that runs 39:30 and
includes much in the way of behind-the-scenes as the film was being shot in
June 1997. It is spoken in German and has optional English subtitles and
features Tom Tykwer, Maria Kopf, Franke Potente, Moritz Bleibtreu, Frank
Griebe, Stefan Arndt, Alexander Manasse, Mathilde Bonnefoy, Reinhold Heil,
Johnny Klimek, Matthias Lepert, Heino Ferch, Sebastian Schipper, Joachim Krol,
and Nina Petri. There is storyboarding, discussions about what it took to
follow Lola with the camera, juxtaposing 35mm film with color video and black
and white imagery to enunciate different emotions. There is also an amusing
anecdote about Lola’s bright hair color inspiring hairstylists in Germany to
offer the same, which was adopted by many women.
Still
Running (2008) runs (pun intended)
16:58 and primarily features director Tykwer and star Potente in 2007
interviews. He discusses that the film’s genesis is a remake of a short film
that he made called Because which is about an argument that goes in
three different directions. For Lola, this made filming challenging as
even the crew was unable to follow where they were in the script while
shooting. It would have been nice if Because had been included on this
title’s third outing on disc.
Believe runs 4:10 and is a highly visual music video
performed by actress Potente interspersed with the requisite shots from the
film.
Run
Lola Run is a wild ride and is not to
be missed by serious film lovers.
Another brilliant spoof designed by Cris Shapan, for fellow geezers who remember Whit Bissell on the TV series "The Time Tunnel". (Follow Cris on Facebook.) By the way, there seemed to be a law in the 1950s and 1960s that the estimable Mr. Bissell had to appear in seemingly every movie and T.V. series!
Franco
Serpieri (played by an incredibly lean, lank-haired George Lazenby, almost
unrecognisable from his role as James Bond just two years earlier) is a
sculptor living in Venice with his daughter Roberta (played by ubiquitous
red-headed child actor Nicoletta Elmi, who was in every cult film of the 1970s
it seems), and has recently separated from his wife Elizabeth (the beautiful
Swedish actress Anita Strindberg). But tragedy soon strikes when Roberta is
found dead, floating in the water, and a child killer is on the loose amongst
the fog-laden Venetian alleyways and canals. As Franco tries to come to terms
with his grief, he reestablishes a relationship with his ex-wife and goes on a
desperate search for justice, uncovering depravity and corruption at the
highest levels of Venetian society, controlled by a Machiavellian art-dealer
Adolfo Celi (another Bond alumni).
Who
Saw Her Die? directed by Aldo Lado, was marketed as
a thriller, and does easily fulfil the conventions of the Italian giallo –
a mysterious killer, an amateur detective, children in peril, criticism of the
Church, grisly murders, sexy people – but is also a fascinating and moving
examination of parental grief, which with its Venice backdrop draws obvious
comparisons with Don’t Look Now (1973), which may have been released two
years later but was of course based on Daphne Du Maurier’s short story, first published
in 1971. Had Du Maurier seen and been inspired by Who Saw Her Die? We
will never know, but it’s nice to think there may be a connection beyond
coincidence.
Aldo
Lado is an Italian director whose work deserves to be better known. His
reputation amongst the English-speaking world rests primarily on two gialli,
which are incidentally the first two films he directed – Short Night of
Glass Dolls (1971) and this one. However, he had a long and fruitful
career. He was an experienced assistant director, having worked with Bernardo
Bertolucci amongst others, before embarking on a long and successful career as
a writer and director. Aside from the horror film Night Train Murders
(1975) and one film which has a certain cult appeal owing to its cast
(including Bond-alumni Richard Kiel, Barbara Bach and Corine Cléry) and passing
resemblance to Star Wars (1977), the sci-fi flick The Humanoid
(1979), the majority of his other films have been in genres that appealed primarily
to Italian audiences: erotic thrillers and comedies, historical melodrama and
crime films. This new edition of Who Saw Her Die? from Shameless
features two interviews with Lado, who only recently passed away in 2023. In
the first he talks about this film in detail, with his love of Venice, his main
home city, coming through. Admitting that he never watches his own films again,
he was surprised to be told by the interviewer that some changes may have been
made to the end of film by the producers, and his reaction is well worth seeing.
The second interview was conducted by the hosts of the Abertoir Film Festival
in 2020 over Zoom (the festival having to be virtual that year thanks to Covid)
and is wider ranging but equally fascinating.
The
disc also features an interview with the film’s producer Enzo Doria, who
discusses his career as a producer more widely (some amusing problems with one
of his leads in Year of the Cannibals (1969) are briefly mentioned) before
focusing on Who Saw Her Die?. The problems that can arise when trying to
shoot a film in Venice are covered, as well as how it was to work with the
stars and director. Screenwriter Franceso Barilli became a director himself not
long after this film and discusses many aspects of his career in another bonus
feature, including two of his later films, The Perfume of the Lady in Black
(1974) and Hotel Fear (1978).
Shameless
Screen Entertainment have for years been bringing the world strange and unusual
films on affordable home video editions with good bonus content, in many ways
preparing the way for the bigger boutique labels to follow. Clinging to their
roots (the films still come in garish yellow cases) whilst upgrading and
restoring their back catalogue to HD means one can now enjoy these films with
superb picture and sound, and it is my understanding that they are also in the
process of acquiring new titles for their library. Many of us fans of cult
Italian cinema owe a lot to Shameless for helping us discover so many forgotten
movies at a time when this stuff was almost impossible to find, certainly here
in the UK. (Who else would have put out the Bronx Warriors trilogy in a
nice metal tin or put Ratman (1988) on DVD with the tagline “He’s the
Critter from the Sh*tter!” across the cover?)
Who
Saw her Die? Is a terrific, atmospheric thriller,
and features George Lazenby giving what is possibly the greatest performance of
his career. This new region-free Blu-ray, which offers both the Italian and
English-language soundtracks, is an excellent way to see that performance, and
really appreciate what was achieved back there amidst the foggy, dangerous
canals of Venice.
When it was first released in 1975, director Walter Hill's atmospheric Depression-era drama "Hard Times" (released in some countries as "The Streetfighter") didn't win over many critics or the general public. However, its stature has grown considerably over the decades and this excellent drama continues to resonate with fans. The film reunited Charles Bronson and James Coburn, who previously had appeared together in "The Magnificent Seven" and "The Great Escape". There's an excellent supporting cast, as well. Here's the original trailer.
(James Earl Jones in the 1989 baseball classic "Field of Dreams". Photo: Universal)
By Lee Pfeiffer
James Earl Jones, the internationally acclaimed star of stage, screen and television, has passed away at age 93. Jones won Tony, Grammy and Emmy awards and was also accorded an honorary Oscar. As a young boy, he developed a stutter that made him so self-conscious that he sometimes pretended to be mute. He credited a sympathetic teacher in high school for giving him the confidence to overcome the problem. As an adult, Jones had to overcome the racial barriers in the field of acting. His imposing physical presence and commanding manner of speaking opened opportunities for him, first on stage and then in film. He made his feature film debut in Stanley Kubrick's 1964 Cold War comedy classic "Dr. Strangelove" and went on to achieve a rich body of work. His films included "The Great White Hope" (for which he was Oscar-nominated), "The Hunt for Red October", "Patriot Games", "Clear and Present Danger" and the beloved baseball classics "Field of Dreams" and "The Sandlot". Ironically, two of his most iconic roles were in films that he provided only his voice for: as legendary screen villain Darth Vader in the "Star Wars" movies and as Mufasa in Disney's classic "The Lion King".
For more about his remarkable life and achievements, click here.
The works of William Shakespeare have often been adapted on stage and on screen to a contemporary era. In 1955, Paul Douglas starred as a gangster an adaptation of "MacBeth", titled not so subtlety "Joe MacBeth". In 1991, director and screenwriter Williiam Reilly similarly transformed the classic tale to the modern crime genre with "Men of Respect". Never heard of it? Neither had I until the screener arrived. My passion for crime movies, coupled with the interesting cast, led me to to view the film. For the first 3/4 of the movie, I was very impressed. Reilly, with scant professional credentials, had seemed to be successful in making his limited budget actually work in his favor, with most of the movie taking place in an around a mobster-owned restaurant in New York's Little Italy. This affords the story a sense of intimacy and precluded the necessity of a higher budget. The film opens with a bang, literally. Mike Battaglia (John Turturro) is a top hit man foraging mob boss Charlie D'Amico (Rod Steiger). Mike and some henchmen blast their way into a local bar where some of Charlie's top enemies are meeting and wipes them out in a fuselage of gunfire. Charlie is thrilled with the result and in front of his key gang members extols Mike's loyalty and abilities. Mike appreciates the praise and applause from his "colleagues", but he's disappointed that he hasn't been promoted to being Charlie's successor. His wife Ruthie (played by Turturro's real-life spouse Katherine Borowitz), is furious. Privately, she tells Mike that he will never get to the top spot unless he takes drastic action and assassinates Charlie. Mike is understandably reluctant. He sees Charlie as a father figure, but Ruthie (taking on the characteristics of Lady MacBeth) exploits his timidity and weakness and browbeats him into undertaking an audacious plot that sees Mike murder Charlie by stabbing him repeatedly as the old man lies in bed. His bodyguards had been drugged with coffee served by Ruthie that contained a sedative that put them to sleep. When the old man's body is discovered, all hell breaks loose and Mike plays the outraged loyalist. He blames the bodyguards and guns them down before they have a chance to talk. Through fast manipulation, he anoints himself as the new Godfather. He has been encouraged, in part, by the predictions of an aged psychic (Lila Skala, in her last film role) who assured Mike that a major plan he had would succeed.
Mike's time for basking in glory is short-lived. He receives the expected congratulations of the gang members but in private they resent how he installed himself as the top man. Additionally, they feel he is ill-suited for the task, as he is very apparently manipulated by his scheming wife. Indeed, Ruthie is a real looker and uses sex and flattery to convince Mike to carry out additional murders to prevent potential heirs to the throne from bumping him off. Before long, Mike and Ruthie live in a paranoid state and begin to suspect their closest friends of deceit, leading to even more murders until a final, climactic showdown that sees another bloodbath take place. It's here that director Reilly goes astray, making the final bloodbath over-the-top. I know New York is a rough city, but it's also a heavily policed city. Yet, the final shootout finds Mike and his antagonists firing away for quite some time with pistols and automatic weapons. Mind you, this is in a residential area...Little Italy, and in the midst of the San Genaro Feast, an annual event that sees the streets of lower Manhattan jammed with tens of thousands of people. Yet, no one seems to notice that the "Wlld Bunch" style slaughter that is taking place. Not one police car siren is heard. In this respect, director Reilly is not alone in imposing what I call "The Missing Cop Syndrome" on his film. Other action movies have suffered similarly. Meanwhile, Ruthie has gone full bonkers and is trying to get that damned blood spot out of seemingly everything from clothing to tablecloths. At this point, credibility can't be restored and the film takes a nosedive into the end credits.
"Men of Respect" was barely noticed upon release. It's total world gross was only $139,000. Still, there is much to admire through most of the film. The performances are excellent and the cast features some top talent including Stanley Tucci, Peter Boyle, Dennis Farina, future Emmy winner Michael Badalucco and even deadpan comedy icon Steven Wright. There's also some creative cinematography from Bobby Bukowski, who bathes Ruthie in red at every opportunity in order to suggest the bloodshed she will unleash. Turturro and Borowitz both give excellent performances and even Rod Steiger doesn't chew the scenery in his brief scenes. There's also a good musical score by Misha Segal.Sadly, William Reilly passed away, although there is scant record of his life or accomplishments. His last professional credit was as screenwriter of the 1991 film "Mortal Thoughts".
The region-free Imprint Blu-ray features a flawless transfer and film looks terrific. The only bonus feature is the original trailer. Is "Men of Respect" worth viewing. Yes, but with reservations. Clearly, this was an attempt to capitalize on the recent success of Martin Scorsese's masterful "Goodfellas". Most of the movie is very effectively done. But that finale? Fuggetaboutit.
We've seen some pretty weird record albums tied in with celebrities. If you thought William Shatner's "Transformed Man" is the gold standard of bizarro ventures by actors into the realm of 331/3 records, Cinema Retro contributor Doug Gerbino spotted this gem that seems to beg for further investigation into its origins. We love the fact that Mason is seen on this children's album sleeve holding his omnipresent cigarette. This must have been a compromise on the part of Capitol Records in terms of Mason's presumed insistence that he be photographed swilling down a Martini! After all, the album does possess the highly-cherished Bozo Seal of Approval. We personally can't wait to locate a copy of this record so we can indulge in that snappy, toe-tapper "Backwards From 100" with James "Snoop Dog" Mason on the lead.
Update: Okay, we'll come clean. We don't usually put up jokes, but as you might assume, this isn't for real. In fact, the creator, Cris Shapan, has a Facebook page that has putting up these hilarious creations for years. Here's another of his gems:
Here's a quaint relic from the past, from a time when the Internal Revenue Service wasn't the subject of the intense political debate that surrounds it today. In these undated radio spots, Bob Hope, Marlon Brando, Zasu Pitts, Jeanne Crain and Bing Crosby encourage Americans to fill out their tax forms and file them in a timely manner. Ms. Crain even assures nervous women that they can be just as competent as men when it comes to fulfilling the annual task!
The term “legendary,” never mind what parameters one accepts
as conferment of “legend” status, is now pretty much moot.The term has so often applied to so many popular
culture figures that approbation has been rendered meaningless. Have you
visited a record store lately?If so,
you can’t help but notice racks brimming with warmed-over oeuvre albums by obscure,
passed-over and/or forgotten – and, yes, mostly dead – “legendary” artists –
singers and musicians that few have ever heard or been introduced to.Similarly, there’s now a never-ending stream
of Blu-ray box sets, all colorfully packaged and dressed, celebrating the
cinematic art of (often) grindhouse era filmmakers.These film artists too are all now believed “legends,”
even if not celebrated as such in their own time.
Personally, I’ve no problem with it.Through such revivals, I have certainly been
introduced to worthwhile music and films I would otherwise have not been
acquainted.On the other hand, there’s
plenty of “lost” music and cinema I’ve been introduced to – often at wallet-emptying
expense – that compels me to rethink the value of such blind buys.Yes, there are proverbial gold needles to be
found in sorting through this ever-heaping pop-culture haystack.But, let’s face it, there’s plenty of
splinters as well.Sorting the wheat
from the chaff is proving a never-ending, occasionally frustrating,
challenge.
To my knowledge, the combined fantastic cinema works of
filmmaker Bert I. Gordon hasn’t yet been allotted a proper box set.I wouldn’t expect one anytime soon.For starters, Gordon’s name – whether having served
as writer, director, producer, special effects artist etc. – is attached to as
many as twenty-three feature films (1954-1990).And these films were financed, bought and sold through an assortment of varying
distributors and studios.Any attempt to
equitably divvy up royalties amongst various rights-holders would make such a
project a financial non-starter and accounting nightmare.
To his oldest fans (ahem, me), Gordon’s science-fiction
and fantasy films of the 1950s and 1960s will forever be thought of as his best
and best remembered work.Though he
mostly worked as an independent and rarely had much of a budget at his disposal,
Gordon’s found a niche in his creation of fantastic cinema camera trickery and
an obsession with gigantism.From the
beginning, Gordon’s frightening titanic mutations would tower over and threaten
the natural order of things.Forest J.
Ackerman of Famous Monsters of Filmland
fame, is usually credited with giving Gordon the appropriate nickname of “Mr.
B.I.G,” wordplay of the director’s initials.
Bert I. Gordon’s career in film began modestly.He was experimenting with trick photography techniques
in his teens, later producing and directing television commercials and
industrial films in his home state of Minnesota.But he had eyes on a career in Hollywood and
in the early 1950s went west to pursue his dream.Upon arrival he wasn’t welcomed with open
arms, even by those working in the lowest-level industry positions of
Tinseltown.He was told, not
untruthfully, that Hollywood was a closed shop, where one mostly gained entry into
the business though nepotism. Unless his father was a “Hollywood mogul,” he was
advised it would be best to return to Minnesota.Gordon persevered despite such discouragement,
garnering his first industry credit as screenwriter of Tom Gries’ tantalizingly
titled Serpent Island (1954).
Unfortunately for monster movie lovers like myself, Serpent Island was a mere
run-of-the-mill jungle island adventure film – albeit one with a dash of voodoo
and a menacing boa constrictor.Things took
a brighter turn when Gordon was chosen to multi-task as director, co-producer
and co-writer of King Dinosaur (1955).
Though in their review of September 1955 Variety
deemed the film slow-moving, they also pronounced the “mild science-fiction
yarn okay for smaller double-billing.”The trade also noted that due to the movie’s absence of a star player, the
film’s potential audience draw was completely dependent on the “exploitational
value” of the King Dinosaur itself.It wasn’t a rave review, but the film’s
modest budget allowed a modest success.It was enough to establish Gordon’s reputation as a financially viable independent
filmmaker.
King
Dinosaur was the first of Gordon’s “big” monster movies, even if
that film’s titular Tyrannous Rex was simply an ordinary iguana in ill-masquerade.The film would set the course of the
director’s career for the decade or two following.An assortment of other giant monster flicks
would follow in the wake of King Dinosaur,
several now regarded as bona fide cult classics of Silver Age sci-fi.In short order, matinee audiences would be
trampled by any number of Gordon’s creations: The
Cyclops (1955) featured a radiation-birthed gigantic man, lizards and
insects; a plutonium bomb infected The
Amazing Colossal Man (1957) (who would return to wreak havoc in War of the Colossal Beast (1958).Then there were the giant grasshoppers of the
Beginning of the End (1957), the
giant arachnoid in Earth vs. the Spider
(1957), the shrunken victims of a mad puppeteer in the Attack of the Puppet People (1958) and – seamlessly slipping into
the psychedelic 1960s - the drug-induced cabal of gargantuan teenagers in Village of the Giants (1965).
Though it was these “giant monster” drive-in flicks that
would secure, nay immortalize, his
reputation as a filmmaker of gargantuan ambition, Gordon would branch out in
the 1960s as a director no longer exclusive in interest to presenting giantism.Regardless, most of these movies were still firmly
tethered to the realm of fantasy and the macabre: Tormented (1960), The Boy and
the Pirates (1960), The Magic Sword
(1962), and Picture Mommy Dead
(1966).
By the 1970s, Gordon’s career seemed to cast about.His earliest films remained almost entirely
exploitative in creation, inspired by popular titles of the times.It had always been that way.Even his gigantism films were simply
reversals of Universal-International’s The
Incredible Shrinking Man (1957).So,
when Russ Meyer’s sex-films were doing good business on modest budgets, Gordon
would follow suit… well, perhaps “un-suited” as it were.His first film of the ‘70s was How to Succeed with Sex (1970), an
X-rated soft-core sex comedy.Perhaps an
experiment with “gigantism” of a different sort?Surprisingly, New York’s Independent Film Journal thought the juvenile-minded film, “a
pleasant, if innocuous little sex flick, even though its sense of humor is a
bit retarded.”Variety thought the film worthwhile entertainment for fans of
“bouncing-breasted nudies,” suggesting “How
to Succeed with Sex has the carefree air of BikiniBeach Party
without the bikinis.”
Even the staid New
York Times proffered that Gordon’s present romp, “Parodies pornography
consciously and with a civilized wickedness.” To help promote the film, Gordon chose
to publish a “Cinemabook” tie-in
novel with the amended title of How to
Succeed with the Opposite Sex (Holloway House, 1970).The book offered, of course, no shortage of
softcore-porn photos between its covers to help sales along.(Later, in the early 1980s, Gordon would add
two additional teen sex comedies to far less critical acclaim:the Porky’s-inspired
near direct-to-video knock-offs Let’s Do
It! (1982) and The Big Bet
(1985).
When stories of Satanism were selling well, Gordon
delivered such films as Necromancy (aka
The Witching, 1970) featuring, of all
people, Orson Welles as a frustrated resurrectionist of the dead. The
production of Necromancy, under its
provisional title of The Toy Factory,
was fraught with very ugly production and legal issues.For starters, the film had reportedly gone
over 400% over budget, a frightening figure in itself. This resulted in quite a
bit of legal wrangling.Gordon
subsequently lost creative and editing control of the film, an investment
company awarded all worldwide distribution rights.It was the first sign that Gordon might be
better off not messing with the Devil.Both
Gordon’s Salem witchcraft opus The Coming
(aka Burned at the Stake, 1981) and
his Satan’s Princess (Paramount, 1990)
(the latter offered “plenty of nude
scenes [to] keep the viewer awake” as one review would note) were issued as
damage-control cable-TV and/or direct-to-video releases.
Gordon’s piggybacking on contemporary film trends continued
unabated.In 1973 when gritty,
urban-crime dramas were in vogue, Gordon jumped onboard the violent-action
bandwagon with The Mad Bomber (aka The Police Connection, 1972).Gordon seemed to have lost his interest in
the sort of fantastic cinema that made him famous to a generation of Monster
Kids.Or was it that the audience itself
had lost interest?“I don’t believe the
majority of people go to the theatre anymore for entertainment,” Gordon offered
this bit of unfortunate psycho-hokum to Variety
in the spring of 1973.“People in the
old days used to go to a theatre to see a film for fantasy.I believe that people now live a great
percentage of their lives vicariously.I
therefore believe it’s healthy for these people to live-out in a theatre such
fantasies to be a killer or rapist – at least it’s a controlled situation where
they’re not threatening anyone.If the
people didn’t have this release, they would become a threat to society.”He concluded this was not so different than
how horror pictures, including his own, presumably, had earlier served as “a
healthy release for young people.”
Regardless of his wonky psychological musings, it’s
Gordon’s catalog of “fantastic” films that live on.Over the last several years Kino Lorber has released
a number of Gordon’s films on Blu-ray, a trio arguably thought the best of the
director’s 1960’s output: Picture Mommy
Dead, The Magic Sword and Village of
the Giants.Over the last several
years Kino has taken up the torch of MGM’s magnificent Midnight Movies DVD
library Y2K series of classic – and, on occasion, not so classic – “drive-in”
film sets.This summer Kino now offers
two of the best – and best recalled – of Gordon’s films of the 1970s in stunning
Blu ray transfers: his adaptation of two of H.G. Wells’ sci-fi classics Food of the Gods (1976) and Empire of the Ants (1977).
Gordon would wear many hats on the production of Food of the Gods: he would serve as
director, producer, visual effects and screenwriter.His scenario mostly abandons Well’s more erudite
musings on the unintended consequences of human scientific and ecological misuse.(In Gordon’s defense, his film scenario is credited
as having only been “based upon a portion” of Wells’s novel).Gordon also chose to move the original story
from England to the wilds on British Columbia.It was on a reported budget of $900,000, that location shooting
commenced on November 10, 1975 and continued for thirty-two days on Bowen
Island off the Vancouver coast.It was a
challenging time of year to shoot in BC, and the crew was plagued by passing episodes
of freezing temperatures, mild earthquakes, sudden squalls and rainstorms.The film’s photography adequately captures
the atmospheric dreariness of the season: cloudy mists, dank woods, dampness
and gray skies.Special effects
production would primarily take place in Montreal that same November.
The film’s story revolves around a desolate cabin and
modest tract of farmland where an aging couple, the Skinners, reside.A mysterious spring of a milky white fluid
has been bubbling from beneath the soil on the couple’s property.The Skinner’s (John McLiam and Ida Lupino)
have discovered that mixing the fluid with ordinary chicken feed has alarmingly
allowed members of the roost to grow to gargantuan size.Believing the strange spring a gift from God,
the religious couple contact food-industry executive Jack Bensington (Ralph
Meeker), to capitalize and perhaps financially benefit from their discovery.Unfortunately for all involved, other animal
and insect species have also been drinking from the run-off of the milky food
source.
The result is the woodlands have run amuck with roaming
teams of angry and carnivorous giant rats, wasps, grub worms, and
chickens.The Skinner’s retirement plan
has not rolled out as easily as they might have hoped.Things take a turn for the worse when folks
visiting the island are being viciously mauled by the giant rodents and other mutated
species.Like most religious zealots,
Mrs. Skinner tries to have it both ways, accepting recent developments as her
faith allows – that is it’s not her fault.She initially accepts the powers of the milky spring as a “gift from God.”
Following a few deadly attacks, she accepts what’s going on as a form of punishment
from the very same deity, an obvious result of their sins “against nature.”
The film’s dubious “hero,” Morgan (Marjoe Gortner) is a
pro football player and amateur sportsman who reluctantly gets sucked into the melee
when, near the film’s beginning, a hunting friend is attacked and killed by a
squadron of angry, giant wasps.In
retrospect, Morgan is someone who should not have been looked upon to take
charge and bark out orders.He’s pretty
much responsible for the untimely ends of several characters due to hot-headed,
impulsive decision making.There are
other tangential characters written into the script, but one suspects they’re
mostly there as victim-fodder.Though others
suggest otherwise, I think Gordon’s special effects are pretty good, all-in-all,
for their time.Certainly the rodent
attacks are viciously grim and disturbing.It must be said that equally disturbing are real-life images of rodents
being shot and bloodied close-up.Though
PETA wouldn’t form until 1980, there’s no doubt members would have been protested
outside any cinema where Food of the Gods
was being screened.
Though Gordon’s two 1970s eco-horrors remain favorites of
fan-cultists, critics mostly offered negative or begrudging reviews of Food of the Gods.Variety
coldly dismissed Gordon’s latest adventure of gigantism as “a tax shelter pic,”
“a good idea shot down by bad story.”They also decried Gordon’s scripting as “atrocious,” a charge – to be
sure - often levied against his abilities as screenwriter.To be certain, some of the dialogue is
cringe-worthy.The suggestion by
Meeker’s assistant Lorna (Pamela Franklin) that she wants to “make love” to Morgan
when an army of giant rats are poised to descend is particularly and groaningly
ill-timed. Screen International described Food
of the Gods as “engaging nonsense acted with suitable solemnity by a cast
that nobly keeps its collective gravity even when the situations and dialogue
are overly contrived and ridiculous.”Box Office also noted that Gordon’s
characters as written, “tend to be less than believable.”These criticisms are not unfair.
Though the bad reviews continued unabated, executive
producer Samuel J. Arkoff had plenty of reasons to ignore them and celebrate.Food of
the Gods proved to be one of A.I.P.’s biggest money-generating pictures of
1976.So,the production of a more-of-the-same sort of picture was
soon green-lighted. For his follow-up to
Food of the Gods, Gordon would again
plumb the rights-free work of H.G. Wells.This screenplay, by Jack Turley (from a “screen story” of Gordon’s), for
Empire of the Ants is very loosely based on a dystopian short
story by H.G. Wells first published in December 1905.
It is
reported that Arnold Schwarzenegger wanted to play the title role of Paul
Verhoven’s Robocop (1987), which made logical sense following his
successful turn as the Cyberdyne Systems Model 101 of James Cameron’s The
Terminator three years earlier. In fact, his physique proved to be an asset
following his portrayal of Conan the Barbarian (1982) which landed him
as the Terminator, so it would only make sense that portraying Robocop would
follow, right? Well, in the words of…sorry, word…of the Terminator: “Wrong.”
His
physique, this time around, proved to be a liability as he was far too muscular
to don the Robocop costume. Despite this, he wanted to work with director
Verhoven, and an opportunity appeared in the form of what would become the film
Total Recall, which opened on Friday, June 1, 1990 to huge box office (Robocop
was given a one-week re-release on the same day) and positioned Mr.
Schwarzenegger as a major box office star, following up his success a year
later with James Cameron’s Terminator 2: Judgement Day, one of the best
sequels of all-time. While Total Recall was remade in 2012 with Colin
Farrell, Kate Beckinsale, and Jessica Biel, the original has been given the
royal behind-the-scenes treatment in the form of a hardbound and lavishly
illustrated book, Total Recall: The Official Story of the Film, from Titan
Books. Researched and written by Simon Braund, the co-author of The Greatest
Movies You’ll Never See: Unseen Masterpieces by the World’s Greatest Directors
and author of Orson Welles Portfolio: Sketches and Drawings from the Welles
Estate, Total Recall: The Official Story of the Film consists of 160
pages of history and on-set and photos of the making of the film. Separated
into ten chapters, it’s a must-have for fans of the film. Here is a look at the
chapters contained in this volume:
Literary
Roots begins with the genesis of the story
in the form of Philip K. Dick’s “We Can Remember It for You Wholesale,” a
29-page science fiction novelette which was published in The Magazine of
Fantasy & Science Fiction in April 1966. If his name is familiar, he is
perhaps best known for his 1968 novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? which
provided the basis for Ridley Scott’s 1982 film Blade Runner, although
many of his other works have also made their way to the silver screen. The
notion of artificially implanting memories into a living organism goes back
much further than one would expect, and one can only imagine what Mr. Dick
would have thought of artificial intelligence in 20204 had he not tragically
died at age 53 of a stroke a mere three months prior to Blade Runner’s
release. Sci-fi films in the 1950s and early-to-mid-1960s were generally made
on very low budgets. However, all of that changed in the wake of the release of
Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) which influenced and
inspired a whole new generation of filmmakers.
The
Plot Thickens looks at
the writing team of Ronald Shusett and Dan O’Bannon who would collaborate on Dark
Star (1974) for John Carpenter and would later take their idea for Star
Beast and weave it into Alien (1979) for Sir Ridley Scott.
To Hell
and Back talks about the many script
revisions and all the directors who were considered and approached for the job
(i.e. David Cronenberg), and even producer Dino DeLaurentiis who worked with
Mr. Schwarzenegger on Conan the Barbarian (1982). Richard Dreyfuss and
William Hurt were considered for the lead role at the time.
Enter
Arnold illustrates how Arnold Schwarzenegger
got on board and salvaged the project after Dino DeLaurentiis’s company filed
for bankruptcy, and how director Paul Verhoeven was brought to the project.
The
Dream Team dives into pre-production on
the film following the casting of Sharon Stone as well as script revisions.
This film took a long time to get off the ground.
Making
Mars illustrates the supporting cast, such
as Michael Ironside, Mel Johnson, Jr., and Robert Costanzo (it is pointed out that
he debuted in Sidney Lumet’s Dog Day Afternoon, though the year of the
film’s release is incorrectly given as 1977 rather than 1975), Rachel Ticotin,
etc. There are also conceptual drawings from Ron Cobb.
Viva
Mexico is about the (surprise!) perils
of shooting in Mexico, and there are some pretty hair-raising anecdotes.
Editing is the first sub-section and it brings
in film editor Frank J. Urioste, who has cut other films for the director, who is
profiled here. The director took a laissez-faire stance and handed the
editor the raw footage and essentially told him to put the film together. As I
cannot imagine handing off a film to another person, there was obviously, a
great amount of trust here.
Score is the second sub-section and this profiles
the mighty musical film composer Jerry Goldsmith yet somehow fails to mention
his extraordinary scores to Peter Hyams’s Outland (1981) (who can forget
his action-packed his “Hot Water” track?) and Tobe Hooper’s Poltergeist
(1982), two of his absolute best. His Oscar-winning score to Richard Donner’s The
Omen (1976), as well as his masterful fits-like-a-glove score to Sir Ridley
Scott’s Alien (1979) are, thankfully, mentioned.
Visual
Effects sings the praises of master
make-up artist Rob Bottin who reached his artistic zenith with his work on Joe
Dante’s The Howling (1981) and John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982).
His work here on actors Dean Norris and Sasha Rionda is no less impressive. We
are also given a look at the incredible miniatures of the Martian landscape, a
feat that would be achieved easily with CGI now. Again, lots of
behind-the-scenes concept drawings and on-set photos.
Release
and Reception brings
about the story behind the film’s ad campaign, and how the original trailer only
yielded a 40% recognition from the audience at the time. The film’s star called
the studio head, and they agreed that a new trailer needed to be created. Once
another company came on board and wove their magic, the new trailer excited
audiences to the tune of 90% recognition. This resulted in massive box office
receipts. Does anyone recall (no pun intended) the original trailer for Star
Wars with on-set sound and terrible music?
The
Premiere is the last sub-section, and it
deals with the film’s world premiere, which culminated in a party at the
observatory in Griffith Park. How cool must that have been?
Aftermath discusses what was to become the Total
Recall sequel, and how the director went on to make the now-infamous Showgirls
(1995). The sequel was going to be based on the Philip K. Dick 1955 story “The
Minority Report,” however the deal fell through and made its way to Steven
Spielberg and Tom Cruise. The last page of the book has the director kissing
his leading man on the cheek. It made me laugh out loud, and now I need to see Robocop
and Total Recall again, two films that I have not seen since their
theatrical releases.
The book is
roughly 10” x 13” and weighs three pounds. Titan Books is an amazing publisher
with an incredible array of books on film and television. This latest project
belongs in the library of every serious fan of Total Recall. Highly
recommended.
If
you took all the elements that made Steven Spielberg’s Jaws (1975) the
modern-day masterpiece of filmmaking that it is, remove them completely, and
shoot a film in another part of the world, Crocodile might be the
result. After Jaws dominated the box office, a glut of rips-offs
populated movie theaters across the globe. One of the elements that made Jaws
so successful was its emphasis on action and a strong visual style as a way of
conveying the story and circumstances to the audience. Dialogue was secondary
to the onscreen tension which made the film translate well to non-English
speaking people. Unsurprisingly, the film’s unprecedented and unexpected
success spawned far-lesser imitations by those looking to cash in on its
notoriety: William Grefe’s shamelessly titled Mako: The Jaws of Death (1976),
Rene Cardona, Jr.’s Tintorera: Killer Shark (1977), Ovidio G.
Assonitis’s Tentacles (1977), Michael Anderson’s Orca, Joe
Dante’s Piranha (1978), Harry Kerwin and Wayne Crawford’s Barracuda
(1978 – it took two directors to make a bad film?!), Jeffrey Bloom’s Blood
Beach (1980), and this 1977-lensed fiasco, Crocodile (1979), which features
two doctors, Tony Akom (Nat Puvani) and John Stromm (Min Oo), who, much to the
chagrin of their significant others, work long hours in the hospital trauma
center. While on holiday in Pattaya Thailand, which conveniently enough is home
to thousands of crocodiles, a hurricane ensues, and the men must aid in the
recovery effort. The women are eventually eaten before the holiday ends, and a
grief-stricken Tony discovers that a giant crocodile is to blame, more than
likely a mutation from years of atomic testing (yes, that old gag…). True to
form, Tony and John find a fisherman, Tanaka (Manop Asavatep), who just happens
to have a boat that they can enlist to kill the wretched creature. Peter
(Robert Chan Law-Bat), a slimy photographer looking for his next Big Story,
ingratiates himself onboard in a laugh out loud sequence. With the four of them
ready to go, you can pretty much figure out the rest of the movie. They even
throw in the barrels from Jaws with no explanation! I figured that this
film would end on a freeze-frame, but it does not. It just ends to a silly
upbeat tune, trying to assuage you into believing that this was time well
spent. Well, it is not. In fact, the film breaks one of the biggest rules in
filmmaking – it is boooooring, ending with the words: “THE END – The story, all
names, characters and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No
identification with actual persons, living or dead, is intended or should be
inferred.” Whew! What a relief!
If
you are a fan of this film for whatever reason, to quote Michael Corleone,
“You’re nothing to me now. I don’t want to know you or what you do.” Sorry. To
each his own. If you are a fan, this is certainly the edition to own, released by Synapse Films. The late
great film historian Lee Gambin, who tragically left us this year at the age of
44 due to a heart attack, does an expert job of conveying his unfathomable love
for Crocodile. In his entertaining and informative feature length audio
commentary that accompanies the Blu-ray, he speaks of his love of similar films
of nature run amok, such as George McCowan’s Frogs (1972), Bert I.
Gordon’s The Food of the Gods (1976) and Empire of the Ants
(1977), John Cardos’s Kingdom of the Spiders (1977), and Lewis Teague’s Alligator
(1980). These are films that frightened children who watched them on The
4:30 Movie during the 1970’s before the onslaught of talk shows (a horror
of a much different kind), but look completely ridiculous to adult eyes now.
The first film that I saw that blamed
mutations on atomic testing was Gordon Douglas’s Them! (1954) which frightened
me and gave me goosebumps what I saw it at age ten. I still think that is an
unusually effective film from its era and holds up much better than its
contemporaries.
Revisionism is an interesting phenomenon. When
it comes to looking back at films that were not well received at the time, I
always find it very amusing when movies that were written off or flat out lambasted
by critics are, years later, regarded as “classics.” Crocodile was about
the furthest thing from being bequeathed with such a moniker. I love bad movies
just as much as the next person, however for me they need to be fun,
they need to be entertaining and possess bad, quotable dialog.
In addition to the commentary, we are treated
to:
The theatrical trailer, which runs 2:44.
A video interview with the film’s director,
Won-se Lee, that runs 31:44. This is the most interesting of all the extras as
it gives us an insight into the Korean and Thailand film industries and how
they co-operated to make this mountain of dung. It pains me to say that, as the
director is eloquent and polite and admits that it took nearly a year to make
the film. They were careful to cast actors who were not busy as preparation
took three months, leading one unnamed actor to quit the project. Apparently,
acting ability was not a requirement for this project. I would like to have
seen some discussion about the actual crocodile, if a life-sized version was
built (which I doubt – the head looks like the only construction and
interspersed with real crocodile footage), etc. All in all, a very interesting
read (there are compulsory subtitles).
Original Thai Ending – this runs 2:37,
is transferred from a print and is completely ridiculous.
The Monkey and the Little Boy – runs 4:41, is
transferred from a print and contains an underwater fight with the croc – real
or fake?
Extended Town Attack – this runs 5:50,
is transferred from a print and is exactly what the title describes.
Crocodile Cruelty – this runs 1:16,
is transferred from a print and shows the scene with the guy showing off the
crocodile, then depicts the actual beheading of the creature. Why this was shot
and included is anyone’s guess.
Alternate Spanish Release Ending – this runs 3:32,
is transferred from a print and ends with a discarded life preserver.
Alternate International Opening – this runs 4:15,
is transferred from a print and explains the notion of the atomic testing, to
inform the audience of the horrors to come.
Crocodile is no classic. It is a crock of…well, you get the
idea…
This is a limited edition release and the Blu-ray is region-free. It also contains an inner sleeve that features uncensored artwork of the main advertising campaign.
Between 1942 and 1948, screen idols Alan Ladd and
Veronica Lake made four film noirs together for Paramount. Ladd played the
steel-jawed tough guy to her hair-over-one-eye femme fatale in: “This Gun for
Hire” (1942), “The Glass Key” (1942), the “The Blue Dahlia“ (1946), and
“Saigon” (1948). The first three titles are considered classics and have been
available on home video for a while now. But Kino Lorber has only just recently
released a new Blu-ray of “Saigon. The brand new HD Master, from a 2K Scan of
the 35 mm Original Fine Grain, looks great, and there are occasional flashes of
the famous Ladd/Lake magic. But all in all, it leaves something to be desired
when compared to the other three.
“Saigon” begins
with a typical noir image. Alan Ladd as Army Airforce Major Larry Briggs stares
through a rain-spattered hospital window at a rainy night in Shanghai, where he
has just learned his best friend, Captain Mike Perry (Douglas Dick), the man
who served as his pilot on all their combat missions, is about to be released.
That’s the good news. The bad news is that he has only a month or two left to
live because of a steel plate in his head. Briggs convinces the doctor,
however, to release Perry without telling him the bad part, saying he’ll tell
him himself in his own way. Later when Briggs and Perry meet up with Sgt. Pete
Rocco (Wally Cassell), the third man on all of their flying missions together,
he takes Rocco off to the side and tells him he’s not going to tell Mike about
his fatal condition. Instead he intends to make sure he has the best, most
exciting days of his life right up until the end.
Huh? Right off the bat, when you look at the basic set up
for this story, as written by P. J. Wolfson and Arthur Sheekman, it sounds
pretty unbelievable. First of all, what doctor is going to release a patient
under those conditions? And what’s wrong with Briggs? Is he in need of some
kind of psychological help? Why wouldn’t he want to tell his friend the truth
so he could get his life in order and be prepared for the end? And what he does
next stretches plausibility even farther. In order to finance his plan to show Mike
a good time he takes a job for $10,000 to fly profiteer Alex Maris (Morris
Carnovsky) from Shanghai to Saigon. It’s obvious it’s an illegal flight. Things get worse when the cops show up at the
airfield and the boys are forced to take off without Maris and have to take
hishot blonde secretary Susan Cleaver
(Veronica Lake) on the flight instead.
Things get worser, when Mike lays eyes on Susan. His
brain isn’t damaged so badly that he can’t help going gaga over her, which irks
Briggs to no end. He gets even more perturbed when it becomes obvious, she has
eyes for him, not Perry. To discourage her, Briggs treats her like dirt. At one
point, Pete tells Briggs he thinks Mike is getting in pretty deep with her, and
Briggs snaps: “He doesn’t have time for that! A girl like that is no good for
him.” Whoa! That was a little over the top, wasn’t it? Sounds like an
overprotective mother trying to keep her teenage son out of trouble. For a
moment I wondered if there isn’t more going on between Briggs and Perry than we’re
being told. But hold on. This was 1948. They didn’t make too many movies like
that back then.
When they actually get to Saigon they’re met by Lt.Keon (Luther Adler) of the International
Police who wonders what these suspicious-looking Americans are doing in Saigon.
Turns out Susan not only had the $10,000 payment for her boss’s flight in
theform of a check, but another
$500,000 in cash in a briefcase she carried, which was Maris’s “starting-over-in-
Saigon”money. Things get still worser
when Briggs and Mike have a falling out over Susan and Maris shows up to get
his money. All in all, it’s an overcomplicated mess that really doesn’t make
much sense. It probably would have been better if Ladd and Lake had quit
working together after the Blue Dahlia, the last of the three great film noirs
they co-starred in. They both seemed tired of each other by the time they made
“Saigon,” almost sleepwalking through some of the scenes. Perhaps director
Leslie Fenton, could have made it all more believable if he had just picked up
the pace here and there and given Ladd more action scenes. As it is, you could say
maybe they all just had one noir too many. Ladd and Lake would go on from there
separately, continuing to make movies, some good and some not so good, both
actors battling alcoholism, until, ironically, both would be dead by the ripe
old age of 50. How noir can you get?
Despite its shortcomings, the Kino Blu-ray is worth
owning, especially if you’re a fan of the first three films. Charisma like Ladd’s
and Lake‘s doesn’t come along every day. Also, John Seitz’s black and white
cinematography looks terrific. The disc includes include audio commentary by
two British film historians, the late Lee Gambin (who tragically passed away
recently) and Elisa Rose, who provide insights into the making of the film and
Rose specifically commenting on Lake’s costuming. Lake looked good in
Asian-inspired gowns. Also included on the disc are previews of the other films
the two stars made together and other titles as well.
One final thought about “Saigon”, something I probably
shouldn’t bring up. What was really going on in that relationship between
Briggs and Perry? Maybe now’s the time for somebody todo a remake of “Saigon,” but thistime do it as only filmmakers in the 21st
Century would. Get a couple of daring actors, and somebody like Gemma Chang or
Sidney Park to play the Veronica Lake part. Set it in Saigon in the Seventies
during the war and look out! Could make "Apocalypse Now" look like greasy kid’s
stuff.
Quiet,
reserved politician’s daughter Carol (Florinda Balkan), married to the equally
sensible and reserved Frank (Jean Sorel), is having recurring nightmares
involving passionate lesbian sex and brutal murder. When the woman at the
centre of her erotic, alarming and psychedelic fantasies, her neighbour Julia
(Anita Strindberg), is found murdered for real, the boundaries between reality
and the unconscious become blurred as Carol descends into madness. With
acid-dropping hippies, psychotherapy, beautiful Italian actresses, shocking
scenes of experimental vivisection (Carlo Rambaldi’s effects were so realistic
that many audience members believed it was real), London locations, a fantastic
Ennio Morricone score and a starring role for British stalwart tough guy
Stanley Baker as the police detective on the case, A Lizard in a Woman’s
Skin is a masterpiece of the Italian giallo.
The
film was directed by Lucio Fulci, who made his name in Italian comedies (most
notably with the Sicilian duo Franco and Ciccio) and pop musicals before
turning his hand to the crime thrillers he would become known for throughout
the 1970s. Although Fulci’s name is synonymous with Italian gore films like Zombie
Flesh Eaters (1979), The Beyond (1981) and New York Ripper
(1982), he had an incredibly eclectic career, also dabbling in westerns,
adventure stories, historical dramas, sex comedies, post-apocalypse action,
erotic thrillers and poliziotteschi crime films. Despite being so prolific (around
sixty feature films as director and writer in a career spanning forty years),
he was no pedestrian, workmanlike artisan directing to order. Fulci had style. This
is particularly evident in A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin (also known as Schizoid
in the States), which despite being an Italian production, features many
British actors in the cast and was shot on location around London, with
Alexandra Palace and The Royal Albert Hall being two recognisable backdrops to
the action. Fulci worked with fantastic art directors, costume designers, an
extremely accomplished cinematographer and the aforementioned Enno Morricone,
and the result is a film that still looks fresh and exciting over fifty years
later.
Australian
company Umbrella Entertainment, who are rapidly developing the reputation as
being one of the finest boutique labels, have put out a fantastic collector’s
edition of this important entry in Italian genre cinema. The restoration itself
looks terrific, but it’s the overall package that truly makes this release
special: The disc itself features archival and new bonus material, including an
entertaining and informative commentary from experts Troy Howarth and Howard S.
Berger, new visual essays on Fulci and the film itself and an interview with
the ubiquitous Kim Newman on Stanley Baker. The package includes a reversible
poster featuring the original Spanish and American posters, art cards reproducing
original promotional stills and a 48-page booklet crammed with art and new
essays, all housed in a rigid case. For Fulci and giallo fans, this is a very
special edition and is sure to become highly collectible. Unfortunately, it
already appears to be sold out but can still be found on third party sites if you are quick! There
is also a regular edition of the Blu-ray available with a slipcase featuring
original artwork that can be ordered here.
Issue #60 of Cinema Retro is now shipping to subscribers in the U.K. and Europe. It will ship to subscribers in North America and the rest of the world in September.
If you haven't subscribed yet, do so now and get all three issues of Season 20.
L to R: Eille Norwood as Sherlock Holmes, Alexandra Palace Theatre
Directed by:
Maurice Elvey, George Ridgwell
Starring:
Eille Norwood, Hubert Willis, Madame d’Esterre
UK 1921-1923, 75min
Courtesy of BFI Distribution and The Really Useful
Group
LFF Archive Special Presentation hosted at Alexandra
Palace with specially commissioned live score, in a new partnership between the
BFI and the Royal Academy of Music
The 68th BFI London Film Festival (9-20 October) in
partnership with American Express is delighted to announce that this year’s
Archive Special Presentation will be the restoration World Premiere of SILENT
SHERLOCK: THREE CLASSIC CASES on 16 October. The LFF presentation is the
inaugural programme from the BFI National Archive’s major new project, funded
by Iron Mountain's Living Legacy Initiative, to fully restore Stoll’s epic
Sherlock Holmes film series, starring Eille Norwood, Conan-Doyle’s favourite
screen Sherlock.
Featuring London’s arguably most famous literary
character and presented in the dramatic Victorian setting of Alexandra Palace
Theatre, the newly restored trio of episodes will screen with a unique live
score. The Special Presentation celebrates a new partnership between the BFI
and the Royal Academy of Music, with Joanna MacGregor conducting an ensemble of
ten young Academy players performing three newly commissioned scores composed
by MacGregor, Neil Brand and Joseph Havlat.
The iconic screen Holmes of the silent era, Eille Norwood
still holds the record for having appeared in more Sherlock Holmes films than
any other actor connected to the role on the big screen. He portrayed the
famous sleuth in 45 two-reelers across 3 series: THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK
HOLMES (1921), THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES (1922) and THE LAST
ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES (1923), plus two features, HOUND OF THE
BASKERVILLES (1921) and THE SIGN OF FOUR (1923). Conan Doyle thoroughly approved
of the first series to comprehensively, and closely, adapt his famous stories,
and he particularly admired Norwood’s meticulous characterisation, observing‘His
wonderful impersonation of Holmes has amazed me.’
The LFF Archive Special Presentation features one episode
from each of the three series: A Scandal in Bohemia, in which Holmes
uncharacteristically falls for a woman; The Golden Pince-Nez, a classic example
of Holmesian detection; and The Final Problem in which Holmes meets his
nemesis, the sinister Dr Moriarty, with Cheddar Gorge famously standing in for
the Reichenbach Falls.
The BFI’s Silent Sherlock restoration project has been
made possible under a rights agreement between the BFI and The Really Useful
Group and through generous support from Iron Mountain's Living Legacy
Initiative, which is Iron Mountain's commitment to preserve and make accessible
cultural and historical information and artifacts. The project reflects BFI and
Iron Mountain’s shared goal to help preserve, and make accessible, our shared
cultural and historical legacy for future audiences to engage with globally.
About the restoration
All 45 episodes of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
series and two feature films produced by the Stoll Picture Company (1921-1923),
the rights of which were later acquired by the Really Useful Group as part of
their acquisition of Stoll-Moss Theatres, are currently being restored at the
BFI National Archive’s Conservation Centre by a team headed by Elena Nepoti,
Bryony Dixon and Ben Thompson. Using a combination of the original negatives
acquired by the BFI from Stoll Pictures in 1938, as well as later preservation
masters, the team of twelve restorers working on these Holmesian mysteries have
reconstructed the films to their original versions and reconstructed the
intertitle design, where there have been missing or single frame intertitles to
work from. In some cases, they have brought back the original tint colours as
seen on first release and removed the effects of a century of wear and tear on
these unique films.
Arike Oke, BFI Executive Director of Knowledge, Learning
and Collections said: “Eille Norwood embodies the original tales’ Victorian
sleuth, encountering Britian’s Empire at its globe-trotting height while
exploring 1920s London: that fertile ground of mystery and duplicity. Alexandra
Palace, London’s grand iconic venue, is Sherlock’s contemporary. It’s the
perfect setting to premiere the first titles in our mammoth multi-year
restoration project, transporting audiences back in time with the Great Detective.”
Restoration funded by Iron Mountain. Additional support
for the score and Special Presentation from The Charles Skey Charitable Trust
and Cockayne – Grants for the Arts: a donor advised fund held at The London
Community Foundation.
The 68th edition of the BFI London Film Festival in
partnership with American Express will take place in the following venues:
The Southbank Centre’s Royal
Festival Hall returns as the gala venue
BFI Southbank is the home of the
competition programme, Screen Talks and LFF for Free events
The UK’s biggest screen BFI IMAX
will once again host LFF screenings
LFF Expanded exhibition of
immersive storytelling for a second year at Bargehouse and additional venues
across London
Five partner cinemas in London's
West End include Curzon Mayfair, Curzon Soho, Institute of Contemporary Arts
(ICA), Prince Charles Cinema and Vue West End
The historic Alexandra Palace
Theatre
Festival venues across the UK
include Broadway Cinema in Nottingham, Chapter in Cardiff, Glasgow Film
Theatre, HOME in Manchester, MAC in Birmingham, Queen’s Film Theatre in
Belfast, Showroom Cinema in Sheffield, Tyneside Cinema in Newcastle and
Watershed in Bristol
Press and industry screenings take
place at Picturehouse Central
In addition to UK-wide screenings at the Festival venues,
audiences will also be able to explore LFF programmes past and present with a
special collection of films on BFI Player.
The 68th BFI London Film Festival in partnership with
American Express takes place from Wednesday 9 October – Sunday 20 October,
2024. The full festival programme will be revealed on Wednesday 4 September
2024, with tickets on sale from Tuesday 17 September (BFI Members book early
and American Express® Cardmembers).
LFF 2024 Booking Detail
Tickets go on sale 17 September. BFI Members book early
from 10 September and American Express Cardmembers can access presale from 13 –
17 September.
We are a cultural charity, a National Lottery
distributor, and the UK’s lead organisation for film and the moving image.
Our mission is:
To support creativity and actively seek out the next
generation of UK storytellers
To grow and care for the BFI National Archive, the
world’s largest film and television archive
To offer the widest range of UK and international moving
image culture through our programmes and festivals - delivered online and in
venue
To use our knowledge to educate and deepen public
appreciation and understanding
To work with Government and industry to ensure the
continued growth of the UK’s screen industries
Founded in 1933, the BFI is a registered charity governed
by Royal Charter.
The BFI Board of Governors is chaired by Jay
Hunt.
About the BFI London Film Festival
The BFI London Film Festival is the UK’s foremost
celebration of screen culture that invites audiences to engage with the finest
filmmaking talents from our shores and around the world with screenings and
events in London and across the UK with LFF on Tour. We offer a compelling
combination of diverse films and exciting first hand encounters with creatives
in an environment that promotes friendly, vibrant exchanges and celebrates our
collective reception of art and ideas. The LFF provides a powerful launch pad
for the careers of UK and international filmmakers through our industry and
awards programmes, and positions London as one of the world’s leading creative
cities.
Kristy Matheson Biography
Kristy Matheson is the BFI Festivals Director. Herinterest in connecting audiences,
artists and ideas has led to her work as a Curator and Festival Director - in
2022 she was the Creative Director of the Edinburgh International Film Festival
and prior to moving to the UK, was the Director of Film at ACMI, Australia’s national museum of screen culture.
Before her role on the Executive Team at ACMI, Kristy worked at the Sydney Film
Festival, Dendy Films and Brisbane International Film Festival. She served on
Screen Australia’s Gender Matters Taskforce, a jury member for BAFTA’s
Outstanding Debut by a British Writer, Director, or Producer and is a recipient
of the Natalie Miller Fellowship.
Amicus Films began as a rival (and imitator) of the legendary Hammer Films. Perhaps surprisingly, Amicus delivered the goods with a slew of films (some of them anthologies) that rivaled Hammer's output. One of the best was the 1971 release, "The House That Dripped Blood", which features a sterling cast headed by stalwarts Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing (though they don't appear in the same segment). Directed with style by Peter Duffell, "The House That Dripped Blood" is bloody good entertainment.
Here is some brief but rare footage from the 1954 Hollywood premiere of Warner Brothers' "The High and the Mighty" starring John Wayne, who also produced the film through his own company. The film, best on the bestselling novel by Ernest K.Gann, was a big hit back in the day.
In this 1997 episode of the American T.V. show "Biography", host Peter Graves interviews George C. Scott about the real General George S. Patton. Scott rarely gave filmed interviews but he took this opportunity to defend the legacy of the man who he portrayed in his Oscar-winning role on screen.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release:
Everyone loves a sequel! PARAMOUNT SCARES is back
with another limited-edition collection of terrifying films, all available for
the first time in 4K Ultra HD. PARAMOUNT SCARES VOL. 2 arrives October 1,
2024 from Paramount Home Entertainment.
This collectible box set includes four killer films that
offer an exciting mix of all that the horror genre has to offer. From a
knife-wielding maniac in FRIDAY THE 13TH PART II, to the twisted thrills of
ORPHAN: FIRST KILL, the terrifying zombie hordes of WORLD WAR Z, and the
psychological terror of BREAKDOWN, this must-own collection delivers loads of
chills and thrills.
Each film in the 8-disc collection has been newly
remastered and is presented on both 4K Ultra HD Disc and on Blu-ray™ in an
individual case and special sleeve exclusive to the set, all housed in a
premium box with original artwork. PARAMOUNT SCARES VOL. 2 also includes
more than 2.5 hours of bonus content, the unrated version of WORLD WAR Z,
access to a Digital copy of each film, and these exclusive collectible items:
Full-size FANGORIA magazine produced specifically for
this release with new and classic articles about the films
Four unique iron-on patches representing each film
A domed PARAMOUNT SCARES logo sticker
A new PARAMOUNT SCARES glow-in-the-dark enamel pin
Limited-Edition poster by acclaimed artist Orlando
“Mexifunk” Arocena
In addition to this new collector’s edition set,
Paramount Home Entertainment and FANGORIA have teamed up to deliver classic
thrills and chills to moviegoers across the country. “PARAMOUNT SCARES
and FANGORIA present SCREAM GREATS” brings fan-favorite films back to the big
screen for special limited engagements. Titles returning to theatres this
year include:
§ FRIDAY THE 13TH PART IV: THE FINAL CHAPTER 40th
Anniversary—September 10 & September 15
§ SLEEPY HOLLOW—October 13 & October 16
§ ADDAMS FAMILY VALUES—November 10 & November
13
FRIDAY THE 13TH PART II Synopsis
Five years after the massacre at Camp Crystal Lake, the
nerve-wracking legend of Jason Voorhees and his diabolical mother lives on.
Despite ominous warnings from the locals to stay away from “Camp Blood,” a
group of counselors at a nearby summer camp decide to explore the area where
seven people were brutally slaughtered. All too soon, they encounter horrors of
their own and the killing begins again.
BREAKDOWN Synopsis
Jeff Taylor (Kurt Russell) and his wife Amy (Kathleen
Quinlan) are headed toward a new life in California when their car’s engine
dies on a remote highway. Amy accepts a ride from a helpful trucker (J.T.
Walsh) while Jeff waits with the car. But when Jeff shows up at the agreed
rendezvous, he finds his wife isn’t there. The locals aren’t talking; the
police aren’t much help. With no one to turn to, Jeff battles his worst fears
and begins a desperate, danger-ridden search to find Amy before it’s too late.
WORLD WAR Z Synopsis
In this fast-paced, pulse-pounding action epic, former
United Nations investigator Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt) is in a race against time to
save both his family and the world from a pandemic that is toppling governments
and threatening to destroy humanity itself.
ORPHAN: FIRST KILL Synopsis
Esther’s terrifying saga continues in this thrilling
prequel to the original and shocking horror hit ORPHAN. After orchestrating a
brilliant escape from an Estonian psychiatric facility, Esther travels to
America by impersonating the missing daughter of a wealthy family. But an
unexpected twist arises that pits her against a mother who will protect her
family from the murderous “child” at any cost.
In this 2013 Warner Brothers documentary by Richard Schickel, Clint Eastwood discusses his approach to directing and the rewards and challenges he's found since becoming a filmmaker. There are plenty of notable talking heads who contribute including Martin Scorsese and the usually camera-shy Gene Hackman.
From the New York Times entertainment section, July, 1976. Plenty of eclectic releases: "The Omen", "Midway", "Logan's Run", "Harry and Walter Go to New York", "The Return of a Man Called Horse", "Godzilla vs. Megalon", "Murder by Death", "All the President's Men", among others. Interesting to recall that in days of old it was acceptable for hardcore porn flicks to be advertised in the mainstream press.
One reality of being too overly genre-focused in our home
video collecting is that too often the lines of demarcation blur.This truism surfaces when discussing the brief
1944-1946 “horror” film legacy of Republic Pictures.One might ask how many authentic “horror” films
rather than moody “mystery” pics did Republic actually produce during this
period?With the understanding my own view
is arguable, I’d suggest the studio produced only six horror-chillers that
ticked most of the genre’s boxes: The Lady and the Monster (1944), The Vampire’s Ghost (1945), The Phantom Speaks (1945), Woman Who Came Back (1945) The Catman of Paris (1946), and Valley of the Zombies (1946).
Others might disagree and, hey, I’m certainly willing to
revise the above list.Truth be told, there’s
seemingly no consensus even among experts.In 1999, film historian Tom Weaver examined six Republic titles in his tome
Poverty Row Horrors!: Monogram, PRC, and
Republic Horror Films of the Forties (MacFarland).A decade and a half later Brian McFadden
would publish Republic Horrors: the
Serial Studio’s Chillers, the book promising an exclusive study of ten of the
studio’s horror-film catalog.
The latter tome is a worthwhile read, though reminds the
studio released few outright horror
pictures in the 1940s.Of the ten films
chosen for examination by McFadden, only six are genuine horrors in the
“classic” sense.The remaining four (The Fatal Witness, The Madonna’s Secret, The
Girl Who Dared, and London Blackout
Murders) are traditional mysteries with a mix of atmospheric fog and general
eeriness.(Weaver also includes The Girl Who Dared, so perhaps I’m
missing something).
In any case, U.S. collectors wishing to revisit
Republic’s catalog of Golden Age horrors have reason to rejoice.Kino Lorber has packaged a Blu-ray quartet of
long- neglected films as part of their Republic
Pictures Horror Collection.This new
two-disc set features approximately two-hundred and seventy-five minutes of
vintage monochrome - and occasionally quirky - monster-movie goodness.The four films included are: The Lady and the Monster, The Phantom Speaks, The Catman of Paris and Valley
of the Zombies.
Some collectors will find Kino a bit late out of the gate
with this release.In summer of 2021 Australia’s
Imprint Films published its handsome Silver
Screams Cinema set.That box wasn’t
studio-specific: it peculiarly mixed a selection of seven films produced by three
different outfits (1944-1957): four Republic’s (The Lady and the Monster,The
Phantom Speaks,The Vampire’s Ghost,Valley of the Zombies), two from 20th
Century Fox (She Devil and The Unknown Terror), and one Monogram
programmer (Return of the Ape Man).
Of course, Imprint too was late to the game with its publishing
of several of these titles.The now defunct Olive Films had already
given us singular Blu-rays of three later featured on the Imprint set (Return of the Ape Man,She Devil and The Vampire’s Ghost).But it
was Imprint’s inclusion of several films from the Republic vault - Valley of the Zombies, The Phantom Speaks and The Lady and the Monster - that
compelled folks like myself to pre-order despite the combined pain of the price
of the box set, overseas shipping costs, and title double-dipping.
Despite my enthusiasm, the Imprint box set was odd in its
archiving.While the set contained a trio
of long sought after offerings from Republic, curiously missing was Lesley
Selander’s The Catman of Paris.Imprint would later issue that film as a
standalone Blu in 2023.Happily, this
new set from Kino somewhat corrects
that omission by neatly gathering four earnest Republic chillers together.More frustratingly, Kino omits Selander’s The Vampire’s Ghost from their set.For those of us who own a copy of the 2017
Olive Films Blu such omission is forgivable.Perhaps if this edition sells well, Kino will treat us to a second
Republic set, one that will include The
Vampire’s Ghost and Woman Who Came
Back – and, yes, The Girl Who Dared
- with an additional atmospheric Republic mystery to buffer.Fingers crossed.
I’m not complaining.We’ve enjoyed access to a glorious wave of rare-film home video releases
over the last few years, and for that I’m entirely grateful.Decades ago I gave up hope of ever seeing any legitimate home video
issues from the Paramount-owned Republic Pictures horror catalog. So, similar
to other starved aficionados of 1940s horror-mysteries, I sought out serviceable
- if hazy - gray-market bootlegs of Republic’s catalog films.If nothing else such bootlegs - sourced from well-worn
16mm television prints - helped fill empty slots in our home video collections.
Republic Pictures is often regarded as one of Hollywood’s
“Poverty Row” studios.That’s not quite
fair: both talent and production at Republic was often of high-caliber despite low
budgets.The economically-financed
pictures are understandable when one considers the studio had produced more
than a thousand features and serials since its 1935 inception.Some historians dismissively compare Republic’s
penny-pinching output with that of Monogram Pictures, another maligned purveyor
of 1940s low-rent westerns, horror and mystery pics.It’s true the Monogram pics are the better
remembered of the two.The Monograms are
not necessarily “better” films but, more often than not, would cast such genre
stars as Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, George Zucco, Lionel Atwill and John
Carradine in villainous roles.
The reasons Republic’s horror pics have too long been
glossed over is threefold.For starters,
they had been almost entirely unavailable to view for decades.The films of Monogram and PRC have otherwise long
been available to fans – even if only through dupey, home video releases of
public domain status.In contrast, the
Republic horror pics have remained almost entirely
commercially inaccessible for decades.Paramount,
the company that absorbed Republic’s catalog, appeared disinterested in making them
available.
Secondly, while Republic’s wildly popular horse operas featured
such personalities as Gene Autry, Roy Rogers and John Wayne, their horror pics offered
no horror stars of comparable marquee value.Republic tendered Carl Esmond, Ian Keith, and Tom Powers as primary
boogeymen in their chillers: good actors all, but none with names of renown
amongst horror movie fans. Had Republic’s horrors featured walkthroughs of Lugosi
or Karloff, there’s little doubt there would have been more interest in getting
these films out to fans and collectors.
Thirdly, Republic was late to board of the horror-film
train.The studio only really began to test the market when
public interest in horror fare was clearly dimming.Though Universal famously released The Wolfman in 1941, they also offered such
disguised mysteries as Horror Island
and The Black Cat as chillers that
same year.By 1946 even the Universal reliables
as Dracula, Frankenstein and the mummy Kharis were absent, replaced on screen by
such fog-shrouded whodunits as The Cat
Creeps and She-Wolf of London.The iconic Universal monsters would return in
1948, but only to serve as comedic foils to Abbott and Costello.
Republic’s first horror pic entry, George Sherman’s The Lady and the Monster (1944) is, logically,
the first of the four pics offered in Kino’s collection.The
Lady and the Monster features a grim Erich von Stroheim as the humorless,
lovesick mad scientist Professor Franz Mueller.The film’s script - by Dane Lussier and Frederick Kohner - is based loosely
on Curt Siodmak’s 1942 novel Donovan’s
Brain.The physical brain of a
deceased plane crash victim manages to take telepathic refuge in the cranium of
Dr. Patrick Cory (Richard Arlen), Mueller’s assistant.The endgame of Mueller’s experiment is to
assist a bit of post-mortem legal wrangling and whereabouts of the deceased’s
fortune.There’s a romantic-entangling
subplot as well.
The film features the former Czech Olympic figure-skater
Vera Ralston as leading lady.Ralston
plays Janice Farrell who, to the consternation of Mueller, has googly eyes on
Cory, not him.Ralston is a beauty, without
doubt: but as an actress she’s hamstrung, delivering her dialogue phonetically.The commentary track on The Lady and the Monster is provided by comic book artist and
horror enthusiast Stephen R. Bissette and author Gordon Michael Dobbs.They explain Ralston’s casting as the
decision of Republic founder and president, Herbert Yates.Though married and the father of four, Yates
fell hard for Ralston, the ingénue forty years his junior. Having chosen to abandon
his wife and family for the skater, Yates was driven to transform Ralston from
figure-skater to movie star.
The commentary of Bissette and Dobbs is entertaining and
informative: they run down the filmographies of cast and crew and borrow bits from
Tom Weaver’s interviews with the film’s surviving players, and suggest The Lady and the Monster is technically
an “A” picture in its mounting.Director
Sherman, who from 1938 through 1941 was churning out nine-to-ten films a year
for Republic, professionally delivers a very worthwhile horror/sci-fi pic, one abetted
handsomely by cinematographer John Alton’s brilliant photography.The
Lady and the Monster did well enough for Republic that the studio chose to greenlight
a double-dose of horror in 1945:The Vampire’s Ghost (again, not included
in this set) and The Phantom Speaks.
Richard Arlen (as Daily
Globe reporter Matt Fraser) again gets top billing in The Phantom Speaks but, in all honesty, the film’s featured player
is Stanley Powers as Dr. Paul Renwick.Renwick is introduced as a doctor of “psychic science.”His particular interest is with the
cross-pollination of the physical and the spiritual.Can one’s spirit be sustained following physical
death, he mulls? Renwick believes it
can and has even written a book on the subject.He purposely sends a copy, stupidly, to Harvey Bogardus (Tom Powers), an
unrepentant murderer scheduled to die in the electric chair.
Just prior to the execution, Renwick visits Bogardus in
his cell, asking the killer to agree to an experiment.Though it would have been advisable that the
doctor had chosen a less unsavory character to test his theory on, Renwick
finds Bogardus an excellent candidate.The murderer is of strong-will and Renwick needs a subject who’s “will
is strong enough to reach back from the grave.” Though he admits to having read
Renwick’s book, Bogardus finds it the work of a “crackpot.” On the other hand, Bogardus
really has nothing to lose.“I’m not through yet,” Bogardus growls as
he’s led to the electric chair.In this,
he’s mostly correct.
Unfortunately for Dr. Renwick - and others soon
dispatched – Bogardus is so strong-willed that following his execution he
manages to subjugate the mind of the doctor himself.Renwick is now the conduit for the criminal’s
vengeful bidding.Detectives are puzzling
over all of the dead bodies piling up during the course of a three-month murder
spree.The killings appear to be the
work of an executed man, one “too dead to be going around shooting people,
unless he’s a ghost.”Which, in a sense,
he is.
The
Phantom Speaks, written for the screen from an original
story by John K. Butler, is a rather downbeat affair, a film ending on an
unusually grim and gloomy note.That
said, it’s also one of the more engaging films in this set, having been capably
helmed by veteran Republic director John English.The film’s audio commentator, Tim Lucas, notes
that English was a director of talent, having previously helmed Republic’s
“best action serials, hands down.”The Phantom Speaks is one of those
curious horror-gangster picture hybrids of the 1930s and 40s.It’s in the vein of Michael Curtiz’s The Walking Dead (Warner Bros., 1936),
Nick Grinde’s The Man They Could Not Hang
(Columbia, 1939), and Arthur Lubin’s Black
Friday (Universal, 1940).
As with others in this set, the running time of The Phantom Speaks clocks in just about right.It’s not overlong and the story moves along
at a good clip with a good sampling of cinematic bumps and surprises.The critic from Variety got this one correct in their 1945 appraisal.The trade offered the pic as, “A
spine-tingling sadistic chiller that has its odd moments.”I’ve no argument there.
Just as Universal’s reign as the preeminent horror-movie
studio was winding down, Republic’s was revving up.In early May of 1945, the Los Angeles Times reported executives at
Republic, “encouraged by the current success of The Vampire’s Ghost and The
Phantom Speaks,” were planning a new pair of chillers.Under the watchful eye of producer William O’
Sullivan, the studio’s newest horror pics, promisingly titled The Catman of Paris and The Valley of the Zombies, were to “be
sold to exhibitors as a pair.”
Though it’s not a great film, I hold nostalgic affection
for Lesley Selander’s The Catman of Paris.Parisian police detectives believe the
sinister Catman prowling about is none other than the handsome, best-selling
novelist Charles Regnier (Carl Esmond).The
French government is annoyed by Regnier’s most recent work of fiction, Fraudulent Justice as his narrative mirrors
a true-life criminal trial of dubious prosecution - a secretive judicial hearing
that aroused public mistrust of the government.
Regnier has returned to
Paris following a fateful trip to the tropics.The writer now suffers regular headaches which bring about amnesia and
awakens his inner-demons.During such
sessions Regnier is visited by hallucinogenic visions of violent weather storms
and of a mysterious black cat.Regnier’s
patron, Henri Borchard (Douglas Dumbrille), suggests his friend’s fragile
mental state is due to having contracted a fever in the tropics.There’s also a bit of astrological hokum threaded
into the script as well.
Both Bouchard and Regnier’s
publisher Paul Audet (Francis Pierlot) are concerned.Two gruesome murders have taken place in
which their client Regnier appears tangentially
involved: the publishing house fears his reputation and book sales might
plummet and bankrupt them.The Catman’s
most recent victim - high-society fiancé Marguerite Duvall (Adele Mara), had
been suspiciously jilted by Regnier so he could enjoy a new romance with
publisher’s daughter Marie (Lenore Aubert).Marie has fallen for the dashing Regnier and is completely convinced of his
innocence.That is until she herself is
chased through the misty evening by a cloak and top-hatted Catman prowling for
blood.
Though the film would eventually be paired with Valley of the Zombies, The Catman of Paris was initially sent
out on release with John English’s better-received ice-skating musical-mystery Murder in the Music Hall (featuring Vera
Ralston, naturally).I can’t comment on
the latter pic (I never saw it), but I can offer that director Philip Ford’s Valley of the Zombies briskly zips along
just shy of sixty minutes in running time. The title is a bit of a
misnomer.If you are a fan of Victor
Halperin’s White Zombie (1932) or George
Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968)
or the AMC series The Walking Dead,
you might be disappointed by this one.
There’s really no flesh-eating zombies rambling about,
only the cloaked visage of Ormand Murks (Ian Keith).A half-decade earlier Murks was committed to
a mental asylum by brain specialist Dr. Rufus Maynard (Charles Trowbridge).Believing Murks suffered from a
“pathological” disorder of the brain, Maynard and assistant had attempted to
correct this issue through a delicate operation.Unfortunately for all concerned, they lose
their patient on the operating table... or at least it appears so.Afterwards, the hospital in which Maynard
labors is inexplicably being robbed of its refrigerated blood plasma holdings.
It’s a crime no one can reasonably explain… that is until
Murks suddenly resurfaces one night.He
re-introduces himself (“I’m a strange
man, Doctor…”) to the disbelieving Maynard.Murks explains he now exists in an “intermediate stage” somewhere between
life and death.He advises Maynard of having
had visited the “Valley of the Zombies” where, through “voodoo rites and
devil’s potions” he was made immortal… with a caveat.To sustain his existence, he now requires periodic
feedings of fresh blood plasma.So Murks
is mostly a vampire, though one with a difference.Count Dracula can be indiscriminate in his source
of refreshment. Murks, on the other hand, requires drinking only of the red
claret that matches his own blood-type.
The police detectives believe Maynard’s associates, Dr.
Terry Evans (Robert Livingston) and his nurse-girlfriend Susan Drake (Lorna
Gray), are somehow involved in the doctor’s disappearance.Looking to clear themselves of any crime, the
pair unwisely go off on their own to investigate.Suspecting the late Ormand Murks is somehow
involved, the pair prowl about – in dead of night, of course – amongst woods,
mausoleum and creepy estate of the Murks’ family.
In only his third primary directing role, Philip Ford
delivers a pretty top-notch and entertaining horror yarn.This one features the requisite clutching
hands, candelabra prowls, and mysterious fiend lurking about in the shadows.The script of brothers Dorrell and Stuart
McGowan is tight and sassy in construction.As the distressed Susan Drake, actress Gray gets all the best lines of light-comedy
relief.Third-billed (and menacingly
under-lit) actor Ian Keith chews the scenery, deliciously emoting and dishing out
the ghoulish dialogue provided.David
Del Valle in his commentary describes Keith’s one-off performance as shining
bright as one of the “great lights of horror.”I cannot disagree.
All four films in this collection from Kino prove that
Republic’s spooky offerings are just as good – and sometimes superior – to the horror/mystery
B-pics that Universal was releasing in the 1940s. The audio commentaries on
both The Catman of Paris and Valley of the Zombies are provided by
author David Del Valle and producer Miles Hunter are worthwhile listens, both
informative and well researched.However,
and while I know I’m in the minority here, perhaps an informative booklet could
provide all annotation required. (Hey, I’m just doing my part to get writers a
bit more paid (?) work).
The versions offered here have been reportedly mastered
from Paramount’s own HD masters from 4K scans.These monochrome films look stunning, though there are some small issues
present in The Catman of Paris: the
negative used was from the studio’s 1956 re-release print, not of the ’46
original.Although the scan is not
pristine - there’s a bit of speckling present throughout and moments of minor
image jittering - for the most part the film looks quite crisp and not a
deal-breaker.Should this set perform
well, I’m very much looking forward to a Republic Horror/Mystery set, Vol. II
from Kino.This set is clearly a must-have release for
aficionados of Golden Age horror films.
In this video segment, Martin Scorsese discusses his admiration of Marlon Brando's 1960 western classic "One-Eyed Jacks". Scorsese recounts seeing the film at the Capitol Theatre in New York when he was young - and how that experience would ultimately lead him to be involved in the restoration of the film. He bemoans the fact that for many years, the movie was seen in sub-par DVD editions and how he and Steven Spielberg were determined to ensure that the film would be seen once again in its original grandeur. He also still hopes that the massive amount of footage cut from Brando's intended version of the movie might one day be found. ""One-Eyed Jacks" was the only film Brando ever directed. It was plagued by problems that Scorsese only briefly alludes to, including a falling out between Brando and the film's original director Stanley Kubrick and the massive overrun of the movie's budget. But Scorsese is right in pointing out the visual magnificence of the movie and its almost Biblical story of betrayal and revenge.
Click here to order the Criterion Blu-ray edition from Amazon.
Harold Sakata played the mute, deadly muscleman Oddjob in the James Bond classic "Goldfinger".Here is a rare interview with him conducted by entertainment correspondent Bobby Wygant from 1971.
Alain Delon, one of the great stars of the New Wave French cinema, has died at age 88. Delon was an international icon of the silver screen, but as this obituary in the BBC points out, his life was filled with the kind of drama and tragedy that rivaled any domestic drama he enacted on screen. Click here here to read.
