Cinema Retro has received the following press release:  

Legendary director Don Siegel (Dirty Harry) directs the iconic John Wayne as an ageing gunfighter dying of cancer in his final screen appearance, a superb adaptation of Glendon Swarthout's classic western novel, The Shootist.

John Bernard Books is the stuff of legend, a renowned 'shootist' whose reputation looms large. But it's 1901, and like the old west, John is dying and a reputation like his draws trouble like an outhouse draws flies. As word spreads that the famous gunfighter is on his last legs, the vultures begin to gather; old enemies, the marshal, newspaper men, an undertaker, all eager to see him dead. Other men might die quietly in bed or take their own lives, but J. B. Books will choose his executioner and face down death with a pistol in each hand.

With an outstanding cast that features not only Wayne, but James Stewart, Lauren Bacall, Ron Howard, Scatman Crothers and John Carradine, The Shootist is an elegiac ode to a monumental screen presence and to the Western genre itself.

· New 2K remaster by Arrow Films from the original 35mm camera negative

· High Definition Blu-ray (1080p) presentation

· Original lossless mono audio

· Optional English Subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing

· Brand new audio commentary by filmmaker and critic Howard S. Berger

· The Last Day, a new visual essay by film critic David Cairns

· A Man-Making Moment, a new interview with Western author C. Courtney Joyner

· Laments of the West, a new appreciation of Elmer Bernstein’s score by film historian and composer Neil Brand

· Contemplating John Wayne: The Death of a Cowboy, a new visual essay by filmmaker and critic Scout Tafoya

· The Shootist: The Legend Lives On, archival featurette

· Theatrical trailer

· Image gallery

· Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Juan Esteban Rodríguez

· Double-sided fold-out poster featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Juan Esteban Rodríguez

· Six postcard-sized lobby card reproductions

· Illustrated collector’s booklet featuring new writing by film critic Philip Kemp

This Blu-ray will be released on March 12. Click here to order from Amazon.

By Adrian Smith

One of the UK’s most beloved film franchises has been somewhat neglected of late. Despite decades of television reruns, since the DVD boxset release over a decade ago there has been no sign of any sort of upgrade of the ‘Carry On ‘films, which, if there were any justice, would have been raised to Criterion levels by now. Remarkably this is still the case in the UK, so thankfully Australian company Via Vision Entertainment have taken a firm grip of the baton and begun releasing the ‘Carry On’ films in series order, four at a time. The first eight films in the series were mostly shot in black and white and based around everyday life, such as military service, the healthcare system, schools, the police, cruise holidays, and the beginnings of second-wave feminism (Carry On Cabby (1963), if you’re wondering). But then Peter Rogers, the producer and brains behind the series, had the fabulous idea to begin making period dramas and spoofs of current hits. Carry On Jack (1964), about pirates, was the first of these, and with that move, in my opinion, the ‘Carry On’ films really hit their creative and comedic peak.

This means that ‘Carry On... Collection 3’ contains arguably the four best films in the entire franchise (although I know some fans would beg to differ): Carry On Spying (1964), Carry On Cleo (1964), Carry On Cowboy (1965) and Carry On Screaming (1966).

Carry On Spying (1964), the last one shot in black-and-white and the first to directly spoof genre conventions, has perhaps been forgotten in favour of the more smutty ‘Carry On’ films that followed later. Starring regulars Bernard Cribbins, Kenneth Williams, Charles Hawtrey, and introducing newcomer Barbara Windsor as Daphne Honeybutt, a name even Ian Fleming would have been proud of. Far from being the giggling saucepot she would later be known for, Windsor’s character here is brave, intelligent and forthright, more than once saving the mission and her hopeless compatriots. Hot on the heels of From Russia with Love (1963), the film is a hilarious and almost spot-on spoof of the budding James Bond franchise (Cubby Broccoli objected to one character being called Agent 009½ so they were reluctantly renamed 000), coming before the flood of Eurospy films that would take all sorts of liberties with Bond a couple of years later. Shot at Pinewood Studios, already the home of Bond, it is unsurprising that the sets here are very close to Ken Adam’s designs, especially the secret underground headquarters of STENCH, led by the evil Doctor Crow, and were probably built and lit by many of the same technicians. The cast, with Kenneth Wiliams taking a rare lead role, are a joy. Williams, who would often be cast as pompous, arrogant authority types in later films, plays here his idiotic character made famous in Hancock’s Half Hour, complete with his catchphrase “Stop messing about!” The comedy is hilarious, and as a Bond spoof it works very well as a standalone film for those who may be unfamiliar with the charms of the ‘Carry On’ franchise. Naturally, given that it is now sixty years old, some of the humour is a little painful, reflecting some of the post-colonial attitudes of the time. But the odds are that if you are Cinema Retro regular, you can probably handle it.

Carry On Cleo is probably the franchise’s most lavish and high budget production, thanks to the genius decision of Peter Rogers to move in on the abandoned Cleopatra sets left behind at Pinewood when the disastrous Elizabeth Taylor production was shipped off to Cinecittà in Rome to start again. With full access to sets, props and costumes, Carry On Cleo looks a million dollars, and is also a million times more entertaining than Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s Cleopatra. The cast are fabulous, with Kenneth Williams in full arrogant mode as Caesar, Sid James as the lecherous Mark Anthony, Jim Dale as an escaped English slave, but most importantly with Amanda Barrie, who had an important role in Carry On Cabby, as the beautiful and mesmerising Cleopatra. Whether in costumes originally created for Liz Taylor, or bathing naked in ass's milk, she's simply stunning. It has always been my favourite ‘Carry On’ film, packed with sight gags, brilliant nods to the original film (20^th Century Fox were particularly furious at the original Carry On Cleo poster design which mercilessly spoofed theirs) and wonderful sets and matte paintings. This was the heyday of Pinewood Studios, and the skill and expertise on show here sets it apart from the later, cheaper ‘Carry On ‘films shot mainly in muddy fields.

Carry On Cowboy arrived just as the Spaghetti Westerns were getting started in Italy but owes more to the prevalence of American western films and TV shows (Bonanza, Gunsmoke, etc.), and is another clear spoof in the Carry On Spying mode. Genre conventions are milked for all their comic potential, and the cast are uniformly excellent, from Jim Dale’s accidental sheriff, Sid James as the villainous Rumpo Kid, Charles Hawtrey as the whisky-addled Big Chief Heap, Joan Sims as a prostitute with a heart of gold, Kenneth Williams as a cowardly mayor and, in a reference to actual history, Angela Douglas as the first-rate shot Annie Oakley. This is great fun, and not far removed from what Mel Brooks would do less than ten years later, but without the fourth wall breaking.

The last film in the set is possibly the most well known outside of the UK – Carry On Screaming. This time they had Hammer Films firmly in their sights, with references to Frankenstein, Jekyll and Hyde, spooky mansions and the sexiest of sexy vamps, all mixed together with plenty of gags and a plot which borrows heavily from House of Wax (1953), meaning Vincent Price gets a bit of a nod as well. In the lead role as Police Sargeant Bung is Harry H. Corbett, making his only ‘Carry On’ appearance, but he was an extremely popular comedy actor in the UK at the time thanks to his starring role in the sitcom Steptoe and Son. Kenneth Williams plays the undead Dr Watt (his name allowing for some “Who’s on first?”-type comedy confusion), alongside Jim Dale, Angela Douglas, Joan Sims, Charles Hawtrey and the stunning Fenella Fielding, who vamps for all she’s worth in a red dress so tight fitting that she was unable to sit down between takes.

Across the films are appearances from other ‘Carry On’ favourites including Bernard Bresslaw, Kenneth Connor, Peter Butterworth and a pre-Doctor Who Jon Pertwee, who in the early 1960s was probably best known for doing funny voices on radio comedy shows like The Navy Lark.

It’s wonderful to see these films restored and available in HD at last. They look fantastic and remind us of what great craftsmanship there was in British cinema in the 1960s, even at the cheaper end of the production scale. This boxset also comes with a lovely booklet which reproduces in full colour the original pressbooks for the first twelve ‘Carry On’ films. They’re fascinating to look at, although you might need a magnifying glass if you want to read some of them! Bonus features-wise, the sets are a bit light, simply including original trailers for each film and the commentary tracks which were recorded for the original DVD releases more than a decade ago. Whilst it’s great to have these, and they are very entertaining (Fenella Fielding has the kind of voice you could listen to all day), it would be great to see some of the archival documentaries and interviews that have been shown on TV over the years included too, or even commission the official ‘Carry On’ historian Robert Ross, whose new co-authored book Carry On Girls is also excellent, to produce some new documentary material.

However, we physical media collectors are spoiled these days and often expect too much! For the price, this boxset delivers what we really want, which is excellent restorations of much-loved British comedy gems. These really are the best of the series, and if you don’t agree, in the immortal words of Sid James: “Knickers!”

You can order ‘Carry On Collection 3’ direct from Via Vision here:

https://viavision.com.au/shop/carry-on-film-collection-3-limited-edition-blu-ray-booklet/

“WILFRID THE FOX”

By Raymond Benson

Director Billy Wilder was on an incredible streak during the decade of the 1950s. Some of his most notable works were made between 1950-1959, and his 1957 courtroom drama, Witness for the Prosecution, is one of the high points.

Based on the 1953 stage play by Agatha Christie (which, in turn, was based on one of her short stories), Wilder’s film version actually improves a bit on the already engaging theatrical work. (By the way, the stage play is currently enjoying a long and successful run in London at County Hall’s old courthouse and actual courtroom, and this reviewer can attest that it is a magnificent production, definitely worth seeing in those authentic environs.)

Tyrone Power received top billing as Leonard Vole, the accused (Power, an American, plays the role as one as well). The fabulous Marlene Dietrich is Christine, the “witness for the prosecution.” But make no mistake—this movie belongs to Charles Laughton, who received third billing. Laughton plays barrister Sir Wilfrid Robarts, who is the senior counsel for Vole. As his private nurse, Miss Plimsoll (Elsa Lanchester) declares during the trial when Wilfrid makes a slam-dunk move, “Wilfrid the Fox! That’s what they call him, and that’s what he is!”

The nurse character is something that screenwriters Wilder and Harry Kurnitz (adapted for the screen by Larry Marcus) added to the story, as well as turning Sir Wilfrid’s character to be more of a protagonist. Seeing that Laughton and Lanchester were married in real life, their chemistry and constant bantering together is priceless, providing the film with comedic elements that the play never had.

Vole is accused of murdering a wealthy widow that he befriended. She had become besotted with him and made him a beneficiary of her will. Vole is married to German immigrant Christine, who at first provides an alibi for Vole. Sir Wilfrid, despite recovering from a heart attack and is not in the best shape for a highly publicized trial, takes the case of defending Vole. It’s a shock to Wilfrid when the prosecution calls Christine to testify against her husband—because she is actually married to someone else back in East Germany, dodging the law that a wife can’t testify against a spouse. To reveal any more of the twists and turns—and especially the surprise ending—would spoil the fun. (In fact, a voiceover announces at the end of the movie that the “management of this theater” suggests that the secret of the ending not be revealed to friends!)

All three of the leads are particularly outstanding, and they are strongly supported by not only Lanchester, but also John Williams, Henry Daniell, Torin Thatcher, Una O’Connor, and Ian Wolfe. Wilder’s direction is a lesson in pacing, the rise and fall of tempo and suspense, and his guidance of the actors. Dietrich, in fact, would not agree to do the picture unless Wilder was hired as director.

The film was popular in 1957. It received Academy Award nominations for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Laughton), Best Supporting Actress (Lanchester), Best Editing, and Best Sound. Curiously, the screenplay wasn’t nominated. Lanchester did receive the Golden Globe award for her stellar performance.

Kino Lorber Studio Classics has issued a Special Edition Blu-ray that replaces their earlier 2014 release. The contents are exactly the same except an audio commentary by film historian Joseph McBride (author of Billy Wilder: Dancing on the Edge) has been added. Previous supplements included are a short piece of Wilder discussing the film with director Volker Schlöndorff, and the theatrical trailer. The restoration itself looks marvelous in glorious black and white.

Witness for the Prosecution is a must-have for fans of Billy Wilder, Charles Laughton, Marlene Dietrich, Agatha Christie, and courtroom thrillers. Great fun all around.

Click here to order from Amazon

Mel Brooks has been awarded an honorary Oscar, but you'd never know it if you watch this year's Academy Awards unless they make a brief mention of it. Gone are the days where viewers were treated to such wonderful moments, as the Academy long ago decided that honoring film industry legends was a superfluous part of the TV broadcast. Better to make more time for the awful "spontaneous" banter between presenters and lame comedy routines. At least the Academy made the presentation available on its web site, so here it is. (Lee Pfeiffer) 

By Todd Garbarini

Woody Allen’s Chekhovian-titled Hannah and Her Sisters (1986) is reportedly only twenty percent of what he actually wrote for the film on his Olympia SM-3 typewriter, which he has owned for decades and written all of his films on. Given how extraordinary this outing is, one can only wonder what the remaining projected film would have looked like. Conceived of as his answer to Ingmar Bergman’s Fanny and Alexander (1982) which ran three hours theatrically and nearly five-and-a-half hours on Swedish television as a mini-series, Hannah is considered by many to be Mr. Allen’s finest hour, although I am in the minority as I view Another Woman (1988) as his best film, with Hannah coming in at a very close second.

Hannah is a sumptuous film, the first Woody Allen outing to be photographed by the late great cinematographer Carlo Di Palma who would go on to work on eleven more films with Mr. Allen. He captures the visual splendor of New York and all its beauty and ugliness over a two-year period between Thanksgiving holidays. It is also a family affair. Hannah is a housewife/actress and is played wonderfully by Mia Farrow. Her parents are her real-life mother, Maureen O’Sullivan, and actor Lloyd Nolan, who used to be actors as well. Hannah is married to businessman Elliot (Michael Caine) and they have a good number of children who are all played by Ms. Farrow’s and Mr. Allen’s real-life adopted offspring. Hannah’s sisters consist of the emotionally adrift Lee (Barbara Hershey), who is in a relationship of sorts with the hermetic painter Frederick (Max von Sydow) and the actress-wanna-be Holly (Dianne Weist) who always appears to be on the verge of a breakdown between bouts of ingesting nicotine and alcohol following auditions. As with previous Allen outings, especially his 1979 film Manhattan, Hannah revolves around myriad romantic entanglements, but it is not all fun and games. Elliot is intensely attracted to Lee who is a lost soul and is pulled to him thanks to Frederick’s older age and insouciance. Holly and her actress friend April (Carrie Fisher), with whom she runs a catering company to make ends meet, battle it out for the affections of David (Sam Waterston), an erudite architect who uses opera and fine wine as his tools of choice to woo them both.

As if this were not enough, Mickey (Woody Allen) is a television producer/hypochondriac and is Hannah’s ex. He has a near-death experience when he becomes convinced that he has a brain tumor and ponders the meaning of life, questioning his parents and his co-worker played by Julie Kavner while also looking to religion for answers, but stopping short after speaking with a Hare Krishna, confirming the absurdity of shaving his head, wearing long robes, and dancing around at airports. Though most of the action is that of a serious theme (Crimes and Misdemeanors would take this to even further horrific heights in 1989), the film also balances it with outright hilarity. The ending is perhaps one of the most hopeful and positive in all the Woody Allen filmography.

Hannah boasts two celebrated cinematic moments. The first occurs in a restaurant among the sisters as Lee tries desperately to hide her affair from Hannah who simultaneously attempts to talk Holly off the ledge when she announces her decision to take off a year to try and find herself. The camera circles the triumvirate in a 360-degree maneuver that illustrates Lee’s increasing discomfort with the situation at hand as the tension mounts.

The second comes near the film’s end when Mickey notices Holly perusing titles in Tower Records and engages in a humorous and heartfelt exchange with her. The scene is done in one take and is a highlight.

Among Woody Allen fans the question has usually been which do they prefer: Annie Hall (1977) or Manhattan (1979). They can add Hannah to the mix. This was Ms. Farrow’s fifth outing with Mr. Allen and she does a wonderful balancing act of being the confused wife of an adulterer and the sister of a neurotic.

After being lensed in the fall of 1984, Hannah opened nationwide on Friday, February 7, 1986 to near universal acclaim, leaving Mr. Allen wondering how had he failed, the idea being that if you make something that just about everyone loves, you must be making something that fails to be interesting or challenging!

Hannah won Oscars for Best Original Screenplay for Woody Allen, Best Supporting Actor for Michael Caine (who will never live down his unavailability to accept the Oscar in person as he was away filming Jaws IV), and Best Supporting Actress for Dianne Weist. It is one of his best-scored films, boasting a soundtrack of both upbeat and melancholic tunes.

The film is available in a Region B Blu-ray from Fabulous Films, the fine company that released Manhattan. The source material is terrific and the film’s warmth shines through.

Click here to purchase this from Amazon’s UK site.

By Raymond Benson

(A previous 50^th Anniversary edition of this film was released in 2018 by Kino Lorber and was reviewed on Cinema Retro in 2020. The film has been re-issued on Blu-ray as a “Special Edition” in 2024. Much of the following review is repeated, but updated, from the earlier piece.)

The late director Norman Jewison, who passed away on January 20, 2024, was on a roll in the late 1960s. After a handful of well-received small romantic comedies, he directed The Cincinnati Kid (1965) featuring Steve McQueen as a Depression-era poker player, followed by the Oscar Best Picture-nominated The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming (1966), and then the brilliant In the Heat of the Night (1967), which did win the Best Picture Oscar and landed Jewison a Director nomination.

His next project became a heist picture/romance, the story of which was pitched to him by Alan R. Trustman, a lawyer with no screenwriting experience. Jewison was intrigued, so, according to the excellent interview with the director that appears as a supplement on Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray edition of The Thomas Crown Affair, he gave Trustman a crash course in how to write a movie script. When it was completed, Jewison got the film green-lit.

When Jewison’s agent—who also represented Steve McQueen—read the screenplay, he suggested McQueen for the part. Even though the actor and director had gotten along on Cincinnati Kid, Jewison admits that he didn’t think McQueen was right for the role because the actor never wore suits. McQueen then met with the director—wearing a suit—and convinced him that he could be Thomas Crown.

The Thomas Crown Affair is a stylish, twisty-turny, clever piece of 1968 pizazz. It emphasizes the ultra-cool cosmopolitan and fancy lifestyle of the rich during the Mad Men era when it was actually happening. The flashy camerawork and then-innovative split-screen/multi-screen display of simultaneous action scenes was snappy and unique. The brilliant main title designer, the late Pablo Ferro, is credited for much of this work, and it is this visual technique that gives the movie its pulse.

Crown is a former banker in Boston, a happily wealthy playboy-sportsman who decides to pull off a complicated bank heist simply because he can. He puts together a team of individuals (including getaway driver Jack Weston) who don’t know each other or him, and the gang meets only at the time of the robbery inside the bank. Crown himself isn’t there. The heist is successful, and the mastermind gets away with $2.6 million. Detective Malone (Paul Burke) is determined to catch whoever was responsible, but the crime was too well thought out. No evidence or clues were left behind. An insurance investigator, Vicki Anderson (Faye Dunaway, in her first role post-Bonnie and Clyde), is brought in and she immediately takes control of the operation, much to Malone’s chagrin. It doesn’t take long for Crown to come under Vicki’s suspicions—so she sets out to entrap him by, well, having an affair with him.

That’s the plot in a nutshell. While much of it is seemingly improbable, the story is told with conviction and such technical prowess that it’s hard not to go along for the ride. Jewison’s handling of the heist itself and the romantic sequences between the dual eye candy, McQueen and Dunaway, is masterful. Both actors are fine in their roles; McQueen especially continues to exude the 60s cool that was his trademark.

Kino Lorber’s brand new 4K restoration looks quite good, and it comes with two audio commentaries—one by Jewison himself, and the other by film historians Lem Dobbs and the late Nick Redman. Supplements include the previously mentioned interview with an aging Jewison, who was still sharp and talkative, an interview with title designer and split-screen maestro Ferro, and a vintage on-the-set featurette from 1967 with the cast and crew. The original theatrical trailer, along with other Kino Lorber releases, complete the disk.

The Thomas Crown Affair was remade by John McTiernan in 1999 with Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo. Was it better than the original? Maybe yes, maybe no. Only you can decide; but consider this—the 1968 version has Steve McQueen, a young Faye Dunaway, a variety of really hot and nifty sports cars, and an Oscar-winning title song, “The Windmills of Your Mind” (remember that?)! Recommended.

By Todd Garbarini

I have never understood religious cults, and I still don’t. How someone can permit themselves to be brainwashed into following a self-appointed “religious leader” and hang on their every word represents, to me, a soul searching for acceptance or love that they believe has been denied them. My initiation into the existence of cults was in the December 4, 1978 issues of both Time Magazine and Newsweek Magazine. Their reports about the Jonestown murders in Guyana, which completely shocked my sensibilities with images of dead adults and children lying face down in filth, were the stuff of nightmares. This horrific event has spawned books, documentaries, and jokes about “drinking the Kool Aid” when referencing one’s blind commitment to a ridiculous situation. An article two months later in my local newspaper about “witches,” pagan practices, bowls of blood and animal ribcages in the woods less than ten miles from where I lived did little to assuage my fears about them. David Koresh, the leader of the religious sect referred to as the Branch Davidians, led his followers into the Mount Carmel Center, a compound in Waco, Texas, which culminated in a standoff with law enforcement in April 1993 with most of them dying in a storm of bullets and fire. NXIVM, the organization founded by Keith Raniere five years later masquerading as a self-help and personal development program group, came under fire for being a cult following reports of sex trafficking of branded women.

Hollywood is no stranger to films about such subjects. Most of them are cut from the cloth of genre and horror films. Split Image (1982) is a bit of a different take on this terrifying subject as seen through the eyes of suburbanites and therefore is far more relatable. Directed by Ted Kotcheff between April and June in 1981 just before he unleashed John Rambo on the world with his phenomenal First Blood, also released in 1982. Split Image was originally reported on under the title of Captured when it was featured in the wonderful but short-lived bi-monthly movie magazine published in 1982 called “Coming Attractions.” I saw the film on CED Videodisc nearly 40 years ago and was amazed at how little I recalled of it.

Danny Stetson (Michael O’Keefe of Lewis John Carlino’s 1978 film The Great Santini) is a parallel bars athlete eyeing college. He lives with his parents Kevin and Diane (Brian Dennehy and Elisabeth Ashley) and younger brother Sean (Ronnie Scribner of Tobe Hooper’s 1979 TV-Movie Salem’s Lot) in a sprawling house like the killer’s in Dario Argento’s Tenebrae (1982), complete with large see-through windows and a built-in pool. By chance he meets a beautiful young woman named Rebecca (Karen Allen of Steven Spielberg’s Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981) who engages in small talk about big subjects. Accompanying her to a weekend outing, he is introduced to scores of people at a retreat called Homeland who welcome him with open arms – literally – and who all chant and engage in reciting positive affirmations while discussing Jungian archetypes such as the duality of man. The happy and joyous atmosphere completely rubs him the wrong way when he meets the group’s leader, Neil Kirklander (played wonderfully by Peter Fonda), but he stays and sleeps on the premises and one night makes a break for freedom. Bill Conti’s score here is recognizable as the precursor to his wonderful score to Robert Mandell’s thriller F/X (1986). Confronted by Kirklander, he eventually falls under his spell and informs his mother that he will not be coming home. He undergoes a ritual whereby he renounces his identity as Danny and is reborn as “Joshua,” prompting a visit from his parents that results in a near donnybrook precipitated by his temperamental father.

Split Image, which opened in New York on Friday, November 5, 1982, does a decent job of exploring the practice of capturing and “deprogramming” an individual who has fallen under the spell of a cult and this is done by Charles Pratt (played by the incomparable James Woods) who, somehow, makes his living “deprogramming” people. After kidnapping “Joshua” with his parents’ permission, he forces him to undergo “treatment” to bring “Danny” back to life. Many of these scenes look as though they came out of a horror film, and it makes one wonder how much of this was imagined by the writers and how much is based on factual circumstances such as this. The film looks at the ethics of “interventions” and how it can alter a person’s free will and their ability to make their own choices. Like Irwin Winkler’s At First Sight (1992), it waivers between being compelling and occasionally feels a little “TV Movie of the Week”-ish by today’s standards.

The film is now available from Kino Lorber on standard Blu-ray. Some of the shots within the house appear to be a little darker than they should be, but it is probably just how the film was shot. Mr. Kotcheff does an expert job of framing the film for 2.35:1 anamorphic photography, which is a huge step up from the pan-and-scan transfer of the early 1980’s.

This is a sparse disc in the way of extras, however the major one is the feature length audio commentary by film historian and filmmaker Daniel Kremer who mentions his own movie, Raise Your Kids on Seltzer (2015), which is about retired “deprogrammers”. When I was in middle school, Ralph L. Thomas’s 1981 film Ticket to Heaven appeared in my Weekly Reader issue and I had a much different idea of what that film was about. It turns out that deprogramming is the theme, and Mr. Kremer also mentions Blinded by the Light, which was released in 1980, and starred both Kristy and Jimmy McNichol, directed by cinematographer John A. Alonzo. This is a very entertaining and informative commentary which also touches on Mr. Kotcheff’s other films and placing him into the auteur category.

The Blu-ray also comes with the following trailers: Split Image, Gorky Park, 52 Pick-Up, The Bedroom Window, The Wanderers, and The Hard Way. 

Click here to order from Amazon

Please note that issue #55 of Cinema Retro has sold out. Therefore, we can no longer accept subscriptions for Season 19, as we cannot provide all three issues. Any pending orders for Season 19 will receive issues #'s 56 and 57 and a pro-rata refund for issue #55. 

“A MATTER OF MISCOMMUNICATION”

By Raymond Benson

(A previous edition of this Blu-ray title from Kino Lorber was reviewed at Cinema Retro in 2020. This review covers a new edition released in 2024, repeating much of the previous writeup but with new material.)

The late Carl Reiner received top billing in this magnificent comedy that was released in the middle of the 1960s, when relations between the United States and the Soviet Union were tentative at best. Détente was at play, but there wasn’t much trust between the two countries. Two years after Kubrick’s Cold War black comedy, Dr. Strangelove, Norman Jewison tried his hand at a picture with a similar theme, only it was one that was much lighter in tone.

Reiner shares the movie with another acting master who recently left us. Alan Arkin made his feature film debut with his portrayal of a Russian submarine political officer. He and Reiner are joined by a marvelous supporting cast of character actors who all have comedic turns. Penned by Oscar-nominated William Rose (who had written or co-written The Ladykillers and It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, and would win the Oscar the following year for Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner), The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming focuses on the conflict between a group of misplaced Soviet submariners and the panicky townsfolk of a New England island off the coast of Massachusetts after the summer tourists have left. What it’s really about, though, is communication, or rather, the lack of it, and how a series of incidents that are lost in translation might lead to misunderstandings. Director Jewison delivers that message to the audience wrapped neatly in a barrel of laughs.

Reiner is Walt Whittaker, a playwright who has spent the summer on the island with his wife (Eva Marie Saint) and two children, and the family is ready to depart. His rented house on the coast happens to be near where the Russians’ submarine accidentally runs aground. The captain (Theodore Bikel) sends Lt. Rozanov (Arkin), officer Alexei Kolchin (John Phillip Law), and seven other men to go find a boat, commandeer it, and bring it back so they can tow the sub away from the island. Things begin promisingly, and then all hell breaks loose as one mishap after another foils the Russians’ scheme. Police Chief Mattocks (Brian Keith), his deputy Norman Jonas (Jonathan Winters), and, ultimately, war veteran and head of the citizens militia, Hawkins (Paul Ford), receive conflicting reports of the “invasion” and set about investigating it in their own misguided ways (although Mattocks is indeed the sensible one). Throw in a sudden romantic attraction between Alexei and the Whittaker’s babysitter, Alison (Andrea Dromm), the antics of phone operator Alice (the splendid Tessie O’Shea), and Luther, a drunk “Paul Revere” who spends the entire film trying to catch his horse (Ben Blue), and you’ve got a recipe for a comedy classic. The climax, however, is surprisingly suspenseful when the Russians and Americans finally reach a standoff at the harbor—until an unrelated crisis occurs that shakes everyone out of the mob mentality.

The straight man role was something Carl Reiner could do well; he always brought a heightened intensity to his parts that was simultaneously boisterous and believable, and yet amusing, too. Arkin, whose dialogue is 85% authentic Russian throughout the picture, immediately proved to the world what an amazing actor he is (he received an Oscar nomination for his performance and won a Golden Globe). Winters and Ford both provide much of the insane humor. O’Shea is hilarious, especially in the scene in which she and Reiner are gagged and tied together and attempt to escape. Law, a newcomer at the time, is a striking and likeable presence, and he masters the Russian language and the accented English with aplomb.

It’s all great stuff, punctuated by Johnny Mandel’s score of American patriotic music mixed with Russian folk songs. Along with Arkin’s nomination, The Russians are Coming… was also nominated for Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay (Rose), and Best Editing (Hal Ashby was co-editor).

Kino Lorber’s high definition restoration looks good enough, despite some washing out of color in some places, as well as blemishes and artifacts that can be seen in many of the images. This new 2024 edition has added an audio commentary by film historians Michael Schlesinger and Mark Evanier, who complement the onscreen action with informed background. The earlier supplements of an informative and entertaining “making of” featurette with an interview with Jewison and the theatrical trailer remain on the disk.

In short, The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming is grand fun, and it’s a fitting showcase for the late, great Carl Reiner and Alan Arkin.

Click here to order from Amazon.

This remarkable collection has been personally curated by Amplifyd founder and CEO Daniel Willis, who is also an expert in the area of James Bond collectibles. Steve Oxenrider's 007 collection is noted among Bond fans as arguably being the most impressive to be found anywhere.   

Click here to visit auction site. 

“HE USED TO BE A BIG SHOT”

By Raymond Benson

One of the more popular and enduring genres to come out of Hollywood in the late silent era and the first fifteen years of talkies was the gangster picture. They sprung into the public consciousness as a result of Prohibition (late 1919 to 1933), which is when real life gangsters were making a splash in America. Early Pre-Code gangster movies were shockingly violent and gritty—titles like Little Caesar (1931), The Public Enemy (1931), and Scarface (1932). After the Production Code kicked in during the summer of 1934, the genre was still popular and being churned out (especially by Warner Brothers) but they had been toned down somewhat with more “likable” gangsters.

James Cagney became a star as a result of playing a gangster in The Public Enemy, and a pretty mean one at that. Coming from vaudeville, though, he had other talents. His real heart was in singing and dancing (he won his only acting Oscar for doing just that in Yankee Doodle Dandy, 1942). In the late thirties, he continued to make gangster films but he made a big deal out of resisting them. When The Roaring Twenties was made in 1939, Cagney proclaimed that this was his swan song playing such a character. At least it was for ten years, when he made his one and only gangster comeback in White Heat (1949).

Panama Smith (Gladys George) says in The Roaring Twenties, “He used to be a big shot.” There is no “used to” with James Cagney. He was always a big shot in Hollywood and on the silver screen, a larger than life actor who commanded whatever picture he was in. He had charisma in spades, the kind of energy that could ignite a movie projector’s lighting rods, a voice that would forever be fodder for impressionists, and a superior talent that many actors today could only dream about.

It's no surprise that The Roaring Twenties totally belongs to James Cagney, even when someone like Humphrey Bogart is co-starring. (At the time Bogart had yet to star in his own feature film; throughout the thirties he did a lot of playing second banana.) In fact, The Roaring Twenties was the third and last picture that Cagney and Bogart made together (the other two being Angels with Dirty Faces and The Oklahoma Kid, 1938 and 1939, respectively).

The movie came from a short story, “The World Moves On,” by Mark Hellinger, a well-known journalist of the time. An info-scroll at the beginning of the movie tells us that Hellinger based the story on “real people” that he knew, implying that The Roaring Twenties is a true story, or at least inspired by one. The story was turned into a screenplay by Jerry Wald, Richard Macauley, and Robert Rossen. Anatole Litvak was initially hired to direct the movie, but it was ultimately helmed by Raoul Walsh, who had already made some gangster pictures and would do more in the future.

Eddie Bartlett (Cagney), George Hally (Bogart), and Lloyd Hart (Jeffrey Lynn) meet in a foxhole during World War I and become friends. Upon returning home to New York City, times are tough for GIs. Eddie and Lloyd start a taxi company and George goes into crime. Eddie reaches out to the young woman who had written to him during the war, Jean Sherman (Priscilla Lane), but discovers she’s a bit too young for him. A couple of years later, though, she’s the right age. By then, Prohibition has kicked in. Eddie and his good friend Danny (Frank McHugh) get into the bootlegging business with Panama Smith at a speakeasy. Eddie wants to marry Jean, but Jean actually has eyes for Lloyd, so there’s a little triangle thing going on to which Eddie is blind. Eddie eventually partners up with George, and throughout the “roaring twenties” they make names for themselves as powerful racketeers. But then things go south, as they always do in gangster pictures.

The Roaring Twenties was one of the more popular movies of 1939. It was a big hit, and in fact it out grossed The Wizard of Oz at the box office. This is not a surprise, for The Roaring Twenties is an excellent piece of Hollywood entertainment. It’s slick, it’s well acted and well directed, and its “epic” in structure, covering a period of fifteen years, is compelling. It’s also a bit of a musical, too, with Priscilla Lane adeptly performing a few 1920s-era numbers at the speakeasy. Today the movie is considered one the best of the 1930s gangster titles, and for good reason—and that reason is James Cagney. Why the film was not nominated for a single Academy Award is a mystery.

The Criterion Collection’s new 4K digital restoration with an uncompressed monaural soundtrack is presented in a twofer package that contains a 4K UHD disk of the film in Dolby Vision HDR, and a Blu-ray disk with the film and special features. An audio commentary, ported over from the old Warner Home Video disk, is by film historian Lincoln Hurst. English subtitles are available for the hearing impaired. The restoration is truly magnificent, a beauty to behold. The images, shot by DP Ernest Haller, are so pristine and clean that the movie might have been shot yesterday.

Disappointingly, the special features are minimal. There is a new interview with critic Gary Giddins that is interesting enough, and a short vintage 1973 interview with director Walsh, the theatrical trailer, and that’s it. It’s a shame, really, that the original Warner DVD’s supplements of the “Warner Night at the Movies” features—shorts and a cartoon—and hosted by Leonard Maltin, are not included here. An essay by film critic Mark Asch adorns the booklet.

So, get on your Fedora and pin-striped suit, or your flapper outfit, and take a trip back to The Roaring Twenties. Highly recommended for fans of James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart, gangster pictures, and classic Hollywood studio movies.

Click here to order from Amazon

Here's a fine documentary examining the life and career of Robert Mitchum from The Hollywood Collection.

"For nearly a century, Hollywood has captivated and influenced generation after generation of moviegoers. Its magic has left an indelible imprint on every culture with a movie projector. Originally broadcast on PBS, HBO/Cinemax, TNT, A&E, Lifetime, and Bravo, this is one of the most comprehensive collections of biographies and cinema retrospectives ever compiled, a spectacular treasury of 32 revealing biographies of Hollywood’s most beloved stars. These biographies, some narrated by the stars themselves, include interviews with friends, family members and colleagues, as well as clips from their most memorable films, and in some cases, rare home movies. “Over 350 actors, writers, directors, producers, make-up people, publicists, agents, and family members all gave of themselves to help make these shows possible. This was the way it was in Hollywood in its classic era and these were the stars that captured us.” – Gene Feldman, producer/director of The Hollywood Collection."

(To watch in full screen mode, click on "Watch on YouTube".)

Here are some uncredited home movies from the set of director Martin Ritt's "The Molly Maguires", filmed in eastern Pennsylvania in 1969. Whoever shot the silent footage did a good job of capturing some interesting visuals from behind the scenes, including candid shots of stars Sean Connery, Richard Harris and Samantha Eggar.

An eclectic selection of films playing in New York City during a particularly eclectic era of filmmaking. 

Watch the 1989 documentary "Steve McQueen: Man on the Edge", narrated by James Coburn.

We revisit the climactic bobsled sequence from the 1969 James Bond classic "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" with George Lazenby's 007 squaring off against Telly Savalas as Blofeld.  

Female directors in the film industry are still very much a minority. However, in decades past, the situation was even more frustrating when studios imposed an unofficial "glass cieling" that precluded most women from advancing their careers unless it was in front of the cameras. There were some brave exceptions, however. One of those women to break barriers was actress Ida Lupino, who not only had a successful career as a leading lady but who also helped pioneer public acceptance of female directors. In this 2021 clip from Turner Classic Movies, she is paid tribute to by another acclaimed actress/director, Oscar winner Lee Grant.

Here is critic Janet Maslin's upbeat review for Sean Connery's 1983 return as James Bond in "Never Say Never Again".

Enjoy this presentation by Warner Home Video of the 1978 promotional TV special "The Making of 'Superman:The Movie'".

Here's the original trailer for "The Devil's Brigade", a production inspired by actual WWII events. Released in 1968, many people felt it was rushed into production to capitalize on the similarly-themed blockbuster "The Dirty Dozen", which was released the year before. In fact, producer David L. Wolper had the movie on his planning board for many years. The film has a sensational cast, fine direction by Andrew V. McLaglen and a stirring score by Alex North. 

Arrow Films has released director Peter Yates' 1971 WWII adventure "Murphy's War" starring Peter O'Toole as a Blu-ray special edition, loaded with impressive extras. Click here for more info and to order from Amazon.

By Todd Garbarini

After the dramatic, Ingmar Bergman-esque directorial turn he took with Interiors (1978) which came unexpectedly on the heels of his masterfully hilarious Oscar-winning film Annie Hall (1977), Woody Allen turned back to contemporary New York for a daring film that was shot in black-and-white and scored with the music of George Gershwin. Proclaimed as the only truly great American film of the 1970s by film critic Andrew Sarris, Manhattan is a joy to behold from start to finish and is quite simply one of the most romantic-looking films of all-time (though its subject matter in the era of the MeToo movement will indubitably raise more than a few eyebrows with the allegations of sexual molestation launched against Mr. Allen). Gordon Willis’s beautiful photography married with the sumptuous Gershwin music makes me wish that filmmakers would make black-and-white films today. There are some who do, admittedly, but they appear to only do it within avant-garde and independent circles.

Manhattan, released on Wednesday, April 25, 1979, stars Mr. Allen as Isaac Davis, a television writer who is unfulfilled with his life as a comedy writer. His second ex-wife Jill (Meryl Streep) has left him for another woman and is writing a book about their marriage. Isaac is 42 and is dating Tracy (Mariel Hemingway) who is 25 years younger than he is and is still in high school. He feels very guilty about this, but genuinely cares for her (this plot point was reportedly inspired by Mr. Allen’s affair with actress Stacy Nelkin on the set of Annie Hall which was shooting in 1976, though her part was eventually cut from that film). His friend Yale (Michael Murphy) is writing a book about Eugene O’Neill and is married to Emily (Anne Byrne) but has started an affair with high-strung and neurotic Mary Wilkie (Diane Keaton) whom Isaac initially cannot tolerate but increasingly grows fond of. Throughout the film we are confronted by these characters who cannot seem to put their finger on what they want and stick with it. They are not inherently bad people. They just keep making questionable decisions. By the end of the film, the only person who seems to have their head on straight is Tracy and the film ends, like Mr. Allen’s Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), on a very positive and upbeat note.

The real star of the film is Manhattan itself, with its pulsating and bustling people and automobiles. Rarely has the city looked so luminous and beautiful onscreen (if ever). Gordon Willis, the revered cinematographer of The Godfather films and a good number of Mr. Allen’s early works, captures Gotham in all its beauty even during an era when the city was beset by social decay. For the first time in his career, Mr. Allen forgoes the relative constraints of the 1.85:1 flat ratio to the far more accommodating 2.35:1 anamorphic Panavision vista and the results makes one ache for further use of this format.

Manhattan was penned by Mr. Allen and Marshall Brickman, who also co-wrote Annie Hall. The dialogue in Mr. Allen’s films has always been a strong point, but here it really shines. His use of long, uninterrupted takes that first surfaced in Annie Hall shine here Rarely have onscreen walks and chats been so fascinating.

Manhattan was also one of the first movies to appear on home video in the widescreen format, which retained much (but not all) of the film’s original image. I have owned Manhattan on letterboxed VHS, letterboxed laserdisc with a gatefold, letterboxed DVD, and I must say that this Region B anamorphically-enhanced Blu-ray courtesy of Fabulous Films is beautiful.

It would be wonderful if Mr. Allen would be open to providing commentary tracks on his older films, specifically this one which, unbelievably, he reportedly was so displeased with that he imposed on United Artists to shelve it and offered to do another movie for free.

Thankfully, they did not take him up on it.

Click here to purchase this from Amazon’s UK site.

Here's the original 9-minute promotional featurette for the 1979 sci-fi flick "Buck Rogers in the 25th Century"!

By Fred Blosser

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Lee Pfeiffer

 "Number One" (released in certain countries under the title "Pro") is an off-beat vehicle for Charlon Heston, who was then at his peak of popularity. The fact that the movie under-performed at  the box-office and failed to score with critics didn't diminish Heston's status as a leading man. He would go on to star in such hits as "The Omega Man", "Skyjacked", "Soylent Green" "Earthquake", "Midway"and "Airport '75"- with cameos in the popular "The Three Musketeers" and "The Four Musketeers". The poor response to "Number One" doesn't diminish its many merits - and the fact that Heston was willing to play against type in a largely unsympathetic role. For the film, he reunited with director Tom Gries, with whom he made the acclaimed 1968 Western "Will Penny".  Curiously, both movies center on the same theme: a macho man who can't come to grips with the fact that he is aging and, therefore, his chosen way of life is threatened. In "Will Penny", Heston played the title character: a middle-aged cowboy who feels the inevitable aches and pains of trying to maintain a career that is clearly suited for younger men. Similarly, in "Number One" he plays "Cat" Catlan, a star quarterback for the New Orleans Saints football team. Catlan has seen plenty of fame and glory as the team's Golden Boy and the idol of the crowds. But now he is 40 years old and, although still in Herculean physical condition compared to most men his age, he's fallen victim to the constant brutalities he suffers on the field.

The film opens on a particularly disastrous game in which Catlan makes some serious misjudgments about plays and bungles some key passes. The result is an embarrassing loss for the team. The Saints' gruff coach Southerd (John Randolph) isn't ready to give up on Catlin but seemingly every other team member is. Catlan is subjected to some cruel jokes and he has to contend with the fact that a much younger player (Richard Elkins) is breathing down his neck, hoping to replace him as quarterback. Things aren't much better at home for Catlan. His long-suffering wife Julie (Jessica Walter) patiently endures his mysterious absences, unpredictable mood swings and volatile temper. She is a very successful fashion designer but Catlan is "old school" when it comes to the role of wives. He wants Julie to stay home and cater to his needs. In the midst of one of their frequent fights, he even stoops so low as to cruelly tease her about her inability to conceive a baby. Still, she sticks with him even when he confesses to having an affair with an attractive, self-made woman, Ann (Diana Muldaur). Faced with the fact that his career is winding down, Catlan reluctantly explores his options for his post-NFL life. They aren't very enticing. His best friend Richie (Bruce Dern), is an obnoxious former Saints player who brags about having gotten out of the game at age 34. He now runs a very successful car leasing business and lives a playboy lifestyle. He wants Catlan to work for him, a prospect that doesn't sit well with the aging quarterback. He also gets an offer from a computer company to work for them but the idea of dealing of being surrounded by machines in the confines of an office is repugnant to him. Ultimately, Catlan is inspired by his wife to go out on a high note. During one of their rare moments of domestic detente, she convinces him that he still has some good games in his future if he can shake off the funk and get his confidence back. The film's climactic game is the very definition of mixed emotions. Catlan performs well and has his mojo back but the movie's ambiguous final shot is anything but uplifting.

Tom Gries was a good director for Heston. He somehow managed to tamp down Heston's larger-than-life personality and afford him the opportunity to play everyday men. In "Number One", Heston is subject to the sorts of problems that plague most middle-aged men. He's nervous about his future. He often takes his frustrations out on the people closest to him. He tries to reassert his youth by exerting his sexual prowess through having an affair. Throughout it all, Heston admirably does not try to make Catlan into a hero. There is a level of sympathy accorded to him because of the emotional and physical stress he is under but his sheer disregard for others makes him more a villain than a hero. (He even refuses to give fans his autograph). Even worse is his sheer selfishness in how he deals with his wife's needs. He feels threatened by the success she is enjoying in her own career and therefore diminishes her achievements. Heston gives one of his finest performances, ironically, in what was one of his least-seen films.He gets able support from the woefully-underrated Jessica Walter, whose performance a couple of years later in "Play Misty For Me" should have assured her of major stardom (and an Oscar nomination). Director Gries also utilizes the talents of real-life football players, some of whom exhibit impressive acting skills. Diana Muldaur also excels as the siren who lures Catlan into her bed. There is an air of authenticity to the film, primarily because Gries shot much of it in front of packed stadiums. (Cinematographer Michael Hugo's work is especially impressive). Gries also captures the feel of New Orleans back in the day, capitalizing on the local scenery, jazz clubs and even getting the great Al Hirt to perform a number and do a bit of acting. About the only dated aspects of the film concern the off-the-field activities of the NFL players. Catlan complains that they are paid like peasants, which was probably true in 1969, but is a rather laughable notion today. Also, the NFL team is required to wear jackets and ties when traveling to or leaving the stadium, another rule that would be virtually unenforceable by contemporary standards. 

"Number One" never found its audience in 1969 but hopefully retro movie lovers appreciate its merits. Th film did have at least one critic who appreciated the movie and Heston's performance. Writing in the New York Times, critic Howard Thompson wrote: "Charlton Heston, minus a beard, a loincloth, a toga or the Red Sea, tackles a starkly unadorned role in one of the most interesting and admirable performances of his career. If Heston could have been better, we don't know how." Our sentiments exactly. 

The film is currently streaming on Screenpix with an add on subscription for Roku and Amazon Prime subscribers.

By Todd Garbarini

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

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

By Lee Pfeiffer

Oscar-nominated director Norman Jewison has passed away at age 97. Born in Canada, he served in the Canadian navy in WWII. He made his mark in Hollywood in the mid-1960s. His first directorial effort, the romantic comedy "40 Pounds of Trouble" starring Tony Curtis was a hit. This led to him directing Doris Day and James Garner in "The Thrill of It All", one of the most popular movies of 1963. More hit comedies followed including "Send Me No Flowers" with Doris Day and Rock Hudson and the all-star production of "The Art of Love". Jewison got his first opportunity to direct a drama when the mercurially-tempered Sam Peckinpah was fired from "The Cincinnati Kid" starring Steve McQueen in 1965. Jewison stepped in to replace him, earning critical praise. A string of very popular and diverse films followed including the classic Cold War comedy "The Russians are Coming. The Russians are Coming", the racially-tinged crime drama "In the Heat of the Night" which won the Best Picture Oscar and the classic crime caper "The Thomas Crown Affair". Jewison was hoping to cast Sean Connery in the lead role but was persuaded by Steve McQueen to give him the part because McQueen very much wanted to prove he could play a sophisticated rogue. The film was a major hit and spawned a popular 1999 remake starring Pierce Brosnan.

Jewison's diversity as a filmmaker was illustrated by his direction of the high profile 1971 musical "Fiddler on the Roof", based on the Broadway stage production. Jewison was amused when, upon being hired, he confessed to the United Artists brass that he not Jewish, despite his surname. The irony of him directing the ultimate Jewish musical was not lost on the executives who were Jewish. They believed Jewison could be entrusted with the film and it proved to be a major hit in an era in which many other big-budget musicals had flopped. Jewison was nominated for the Best Director Oscar and would be nominated again for the 1987 smash hit comedy "Moonstruck" starring Cher, who did win an Oscar for the film. Not all of Jewison's films were successful critically and at the boxoffice. Among those that didn't meet expectations were "F.I.S.T." and the screen adaptation of "Jesus Christ, Superstar". His futuristic thriller "Rollerball" under-performed in 1975 but has developed a loyal following in the ensuing years. The political satire "And Justice for All" was well-received as was the film adaptation of the play "A Soldier's Story" but most of his other films were not especially successful critically or commercially, although his 1999 production of "The Hurricane" saw Denzel Washington nab a Best Actor nomination in the true life story of former boxer "Hurricane" Carter, who waged a long campaign to prove that he was unjustly jailed for murder. Jewison's film was a lightning rod for controversy. Carter's supporters welcomed the sympathetic portrayal of him as a victim of a racist justice system. Others accused Jewison of being naive and ignoring considerable evidence that Carter was guilty. Either way, Jewison proved he could still stir things up on the big screen. His last big screen feature film was the little-seen "The Statement" starring Michael Caine.

Norman Jewison was a consummate professional who was respected by his peers and appreciated by movie fans worldwide. He was an early contributor to Cinema Retro and we join film lovers around the globe in mourning his passing. For more, click here.

The first issue of Cinema Retro Season 20, #58, has now shipped to subscribers worldwide. If you haven't received the issue yet, you should be getting it soon. Thanks to everyone who subscribed or renewed. If you haven't done so, what are you waiting for?

Click on image for full list.

Acclaimed films from Todd Haynes, Yorgos Lanthimos, Hou Hsiao-Hsien, Christian Petzold, Lina Wertmuller, Ken Loach, Andrei Tarkovsky, Jafar Panahi, Taika Waititi, Oscar Micheaux, Susan Sontag, Jean-Luc Godard, Bruno Dumont, Jia Zhangke,  Bernardo Bertolucci, Fritz Lang and more arrive on streaming, some for the first time. 

Kino Lorber’s recent acclaimed films Chile ‘76, Close to Vermeer, and new 4K restorations of The Conformist and Millennium Mambo arrive on streaming for the first time.

Kino Lorber, a leading name in independent film distribution for over 45 years, has launched KINO FILM COLLECTION, a new streaming service available in the U.S. on the Amazon Service via Prime Video Channels for $5.99 per month. The Collection will feature new Kino releases fresh from theaters, along with hundreds of films from its expansive library of more than 4,000 titles, many now streaming for the first time.

Films available at launch include award-winning theatrical releases and critically acclaimed hits and classics from around the globe including new 4K restorations of THE CONFORMIST (Bernardo Bertolucci) and key works by notable directors such as DOGTOOTH (Yorgos Lanthimos), TAXI (Jafar Panahi), POISON (Todd Haynes), GANJA & HESS (Bill Gunn), THE SCENT OF GREEN PAPAYA (Tran Anh Hung), A GIRL WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT (Ana Lily Amirpour), COMPUTER CHESS (Andrew Bujalski), PORTRAIT OF JASON (Shirley Clarke), and A TOUCH OF SIN (Jia Zhangke). Joining them are entries from the long-revered Kino canon such as METROPOLIS (Fritz Lang), NOSFERATU (F.W. Murnau), THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI (Robert Wiene), BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN (Sergei Eisenstein), BIRTHRIGHT (Oscar Micheaux) and THE SACRIFICE (Andrei Tarkovsky), all presented in the best versions available anywhere. Rounding out the collection are popular and acclaimed documentaries like BOMBSHELL: THE HEDY LAMARR STORY (Alexandra Dean), Academy Award®-nominated FIRE AT SEA (Gianfranco Rosi), GRACE JONES: BLOODLIGHT AND BAMI (Sophie Fiennes), and BILL CUNNINGHAM NEW YORK (Richard Press).

The Kino Film Collection will be updated monthly with regular streaming premieres of acclaimed films directly from theaters including CHILE ‘76 (Manuela Martelli), FRAMING AGNES (Chase Joynt), BRAINWASHED: SEX-CAMERA-POWER (Nina Menkes), THE SUPER 8 YEARS (Annie Ernaux, David Ernaux-Briot), COSTA BRAVA, LEBANON (Mounia Akl) and THE WORST ONES (Lise Akoka and Romane Gueret), alongside curated treasures from the Kino library and cult film selections from the Kino vault to satisfy genre fans.

December streaming premieres will include a new 4K restoration of MILLENNIUM MAMBO (Hou Hsiao-Hsien), SONGS MY BROTHERS TAUGHT ME (Chloe Zhao), CLOSE TO VERMEER (Suzanne Raes), FINAL CUT (Michel Hazanavicius), BACURAU (Kleber Mendonça Filho, Juliano Dornelles), TOKYO POP (Fran Rubel Kuzui), TWO SMALL BODIES (Beth B), and more. 

Richard Lorber, President and CEO of Kino Lorber, said "I'm excited about Kino Film Collection as a destination for our newest films fresh from festivals and theaters, as well as newly launched restorations of classics and curated selections from our vast library, many streaming for the first time. Over the last 45 years, we've introduced electrifying new films from directors at the vanguard around the world to American audiences, and built a library and brand synonymous with cinematic innovation, distinguished curation, and enduring quality. The Kino Film Collection will be the place to go to find the classics of tomorrow and the best of cinema past."

Lisa Schwartz, Chief Revenue Officer for Kino Lorber, who will oversee the service, said, “The creation of Kino Film Collection is the latest example of our continued commitment to independent film and to ensuring our incredible collection remains available for audiences nationwide. Many streaming services are currently undergoing a shift in their content focus and consequently many titles are becoming increasingly difficult to find. Therefore, we felt it was a business imperative to create a dedicated home where our films would be consistently available to film lovers.  This curated collection allows us to highlight our successful new theatrical releases as well as repertory films and beautifully restored library classics.”

Visit KINOFILMCOLLECTION.COM to sign up for a 7-Day Free Trial.

“A CAPER IN WHITE… AND BLACK”

By Raymond Benson

The film noir movement/trend in Hollywood was fading away by the end of the 1950s decade. Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil (1958) is often cited by film historians and film noir aficionados as the “last true film noir.” However, one picture released in 1959 could very well take that honor, for it indeed exhibits many of the traits of pure film noir (black and white photography, gritty realism, cynical and edgy characters, a heist, and an ending that is, well, not a happy one).

Odds Against Tomorrow was set up by actor and musician Harry Belafonte and was made by his production company. Is it the first film noir with a Black protagonist? This reviewer can’t think of another that preceded it. Basing it on a novel by William P. McGivern, Belafonte hired blacklisted Abraham Polonsky to write the screenplay. Polonsky (who had written the great Body and Soul, 1947) had been caught up in the HUAC investigations in Hollywood, refused to testify in the hearings, and was subsequently blacklisted along with many other writers, producers, directors, and actors. Polonsky, working with co-writer Nelson Gidding, wrote the script under a front-pseudonym, John O. Killens, a living Black novelist. It wasn’t until 1996 that the Writers Guild restored Polonsky’s real name to the credits.

Belafonte apparently had wanted to make a movie that was not only a gripping heist drama but also a statement about prejudice. Of the trio of robbers who attempt a bank robbery in the film, one is Black (Belafonte), the other two are White, and one of the latter is terribly racist… a factor that plays into how the caper ultimately plays out.

New York City. Dave Burke (Ed Begley) is a disgraced former cop who needs money. Earl Slater (Robert Ryan) is an embittered, racist war veteran and ex-con who needs money. Johnny Ingram (Belafonte) is a musician in debt to a gangster because of a gambling addiction, so he needs money, too. Slater lives with needy Lorry (Shelley Winters, in one of her whiny roles) but he has the hots for apartment building neighbor Helen (Gloria Grahame). Johnny is separated from his wife, Ruth (Kim Hamilton) and daughter Edie, but he desperately wants to make good and reunite the family. When Dave learns about an upstate smalltown bank with a vulnerability, he enlists Earl and Johnny in a scheme to steal $150,000, split three ways. Johnny doesn’t want to do it, but the pressure from the mobster and threats to his family force him into it. Earl is not happy that a Black man is part of the plan, and this tension is a major conflict in the heist proceedings. To reveal more would spoil the excitement.

Robert Wise, a filmmaker who seemed to be able to make a great film out of any genre, is at the helm, and he does a terrific job. He had worked with Ryan before in the film noir, The Set-Up (1949). Wise, of course, won Oscars for directing The Sound of Music (1965) and co-directing West Side Story (1961), but also made such diverse classics as The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), The Haunting (1963), and Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)!

This is an intense, engaging picture that generates suspense and has something to say. The script is top-notch, and the performances are heightened just enough to fit firmly into the film noir style. The music, composed by John Lewis and performed by the Modern Jazz Quartet, is phenomenally good, adding another level to the tone and feel of the movie.

Kino Lorber Studio Classics’ new Blu-ray presentation is sharp and clean in glorious black and white. There is an accompanying audio commentary by author/film historian Alan K. Rode. Supplements include Post Screening Q&A interviews with Harry Belafonte (in 2009) and Kim Hamilton (in 2007), plus the theatrical trailer for this and other Kino Lorber film noir titles.

Odds Against Tomorrow is for fans of film noir, heist movies, Robert Wise, Harry Belafonte, Robert Ryan, and other members of the sparkling cast. Highly recommended.

Click here to order from Amazon

By Lee Pfeiffer

Largely forgotten by the general public, Hickey & Boggs, a 1972 crime thriller, is currently streaming on ScreenPix, a subscription service available as an add-on for Amazon Prime and YouTube subscribers. The film's primary merit is that it reunited I Spy co-stars Bill Cosby and Robert Culp (though by this time, Cosby's fame had eclipsed Culp's, thus resulting in his receiving top billing). In their classic TV show, Culp and Cosby played a tennis pro and his trainer who were actually secret agents. The glitz of the tennis world allowed them to live Bondian lifestyles while they thwarted bad guys. Intriguingly, Hickey & Boggs goes in a very different direction. Resisting the temptation to revive their wise-cracking I Spy personalities, Culp and Cos are seen as down-and-out private investigators in Los Angeles. Both are divorced but pine away for their ex's; they can't pay the office phone bill and they ride around in cars that look like they barely survived a demolition derby. As the TV spots for the film said at the time, "They have to reach up to touch bottom." On the brink of financial disaster, the men finally get a case: they are hired by a mysterious man to find an equally mysterious woman he wants to locate. The money is good, but the seemingly mundane case soon turns deadly with Hickey and Boggs dodging mob hit men, Black Power radicals and unfriendly police brass.

Although the film boasts a screenplay by the noted Walter Hill, this is the weakest aspect of the production. The story becomes completely incomprehensible within minutes and, in terms of confusing aspects of the plot, makes The Big Sleep play like a Pink Panther movie. So many characters and relationships are introduced that the viewer is never sure who is doing what to whom and why. What the film does have is atmosphere, and Culp, who also directed, takes pains to distance the two lead characters from their I Spy counterparts. They still have terrific screen chemistry, however, even as they play against type as two rusty private eyes who can't hit the broad side of a barn even with their .357 Magnums blazing. The film features a number of exciting action sequences and an excellent supporting cast including Rosalind Cash, Vincent Gardenia, Ed Lauter, Bill Hickman (the legendary stunt driver) and, in early career roles, James Woods and Michael Moriarty. It would have helped immensely if the downbeat script was at least decipherable, but as it stands there is still plenty to recommend about Hickey & Boggs.

Click here to order DVD from Amazon

“A SCHOOL FOR TELEVISION REPAIRMEN”

By Raymond Benson

The seventh and last entry in the Road to… motion picture series is often cited as the weakest of the Bing Crosby and Bob Hope musical romps, but it’s actually perhaps somewhere more in the middle. This reviewer found many of the comic bits and one-liners to be quite funny, and despite their aging personas (especially Crosby), the duo are in good form.

The series began in 1940 with Road to Singapore and continued through the forties. They were huge successes for Paramount Pictures. The single title made in the fifties (and the only one shot in color), Road to Bali (1952), seemed to be the swan song. It wasn’t until the early sixties that Crosby and Hope decided to do another, this time for United Artists and shot in the UK. Interestingly, fans of the James Bond film series will spot familiar faces and names either on camera or in the credits behind the scenes (Walter Gotell, Syd Cain, Bob Simmons, Maurice Binder, Wally Veevers).

More significant is that The Road to Hong Kong, directed by Norman Panama, features a spy adventure plot that is not unlike the early 007 pictures, and its release preceded the premiere of Dr. No by a little less than seven months! There is a SPECTRE-like villainous organization (the “Third Echelon”) and a caper involving nuclear weapons and space travel (shades of Dr. No and You Only Live Twice). The villains even operate from an underwater laboratory and control room that resembles that of Dr. No's. (When Bob Hope’s character sees all the men and women in lab coats sitting at terminals and monitors, he quips, “Oh, look, a school for television repairmen!”)

As usual, Crosby and Hope are conmen, Harry Turner and Chester Babcock, who unwittingly become involved in a MacGuffin plot to steal plans for Russian rocket fuel so that the Third Echelon and their leader (Robert Morley) can launch nuclear missiles at earth from the moon. Echelon agent Diane (Joan Collins) at first works with the villains, but of course the wacky pair of Harry and Chester win her over to their side.

Oddly, longtime costar Dorothy Lamour is relegated to helping the boys in a small sequence and musical number near the end of the film. It’s a shocking example of how Hollywood viewed aging female stars. A much younger Collins was cast as the lead this time, with Lamour pushed into what amounts to a glorified cameo. Never mind that both Crosby and Hope are much older than Collins and are Lamour’s contemporaries!

It's almost impossible in this day and age not to view the film through the lens of cultural misappropriation. Despite the movie mostly taking place in British Hong Kong, there are very few Asian actors to be seen (and they are mostly extras). Too many white men and women are costumed and made up to be “Asian” (and even Harry participates thusly as part of a disguise). This kind of thing occurred in every Road to… picture, from Singapore to Morocco to Bali. But, as classic film aficionados know, one must approach older films within the context of when they were made and released. In 1962, this sort of thing was commonplace.

An old-school audience will certainly enjoy The Road to Hong Kong. The singing and dancing, the slapstick hijinks, the snappy and silly dialogue, and the references to the previous Roads are enough to delight. Another fun aspect are the many cameos from the likes of Peter Sellers, David Niven, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Jerry Colonna, and others.

Kino Lorber Studio Classics presents a sharp-looking Blu-ray restoration in glorious black and white (this one surely would have benefited from color). An insightful audio commentary by film historian/filmmaker Michael Schlesinger and archivist/historian Stan Taffel accompanies the feature. Rounding out the disk are theatrical trailers from this movie, other Road titles, and other Kino releases.

The Road to Hong Kong is for fans of the series, of Bing Crosby and Bob Hope, and for vintage Hollywood and British films of the early 1960s. Fun stuff.

Click here to order from Amazon

"RETRO-ACTIVE: AN ARTICLE FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES"

By Doug Oswald

Released as a burn-to-order DVD from the Universal Vault Series, some may be quick to add that they should have kept "The Conqueror" in the vault. The movie is notorious for being one of the worst movies in Hollywood history. Much has been written about how terrible this movie is so I'm going to avoid jumping on that bandwagon. After all, calling this movie bad is like calling out water for being wet.

The movie is also a part of a conspiracy theory of sorts because many of the cast and crew died from cancer and some have connected those cancer deaths to the location filming in St. George Utah which was the stand-in for the Gobi Desert. St. George is downwind from where the above ground nuclear testing occurred in Nevada. Indeed, many involved with this movie did succumb to cancer including lifetime smoker John Wayne who also denied any connection between his cancer and the St. George location filming.

The CinemaScope widescreen image for "The Conqueror" looks terrific and has an appropriately grand score by Victor Young. The movie stars John Wayne and Susan Hayward and features some of the best character actors of the era including Pedro Armendariz, Agnes Morehead, Thomas Gomez, William Conrad and Lee Van Cleef. If only the movie was the western it tries so hard to be rather than a 13th century historical epic taking place in Central Asia.

Apparently, nobody was more surprised than former actor and director of "The Conqueror", actor Dick Powell, when the Duke insisted on playing the lead. When asked by reporters during production how Wayne looked as Genghis Kahn, Powell replied, "Murderous. Just murderous." I'd say murderous for the viewer too. While there's a lot of ethnicity in the cast (Native American Indians from a local reservation were hired as extras to portray the Mongolian hordes in the movie) it's hard to believe that they couldn't cast a single Asian actor in this movie.

The movie pulled in a healthy profit world-wide for RKO at the time of its initial release in 1956, but it was critically panned and is difficult to watch. "The Conqueror" was a personal favorite of the movie's eccentric producer Howard Hughes who owned RKO at the time and pulled the movie from theatrical and TV distribution. Apparently Hughes watched the movie over and over again, but it was not seen by mortal men again until 1974 after the rights reverted to Paramount. This was the final movie that Hughes personally produced and some may say it would have been better if he had destroyed the negatives and all copies of the movie.

"The Conqueror" was previously released by Universal in 2006 as part of the, "An American Icon: John Wayne 5 Movie Collection" DVD set. That release included the trailer, subtitles and chapters. This burn to order release appears to be produced from the same source material because it looks and sounds identical, but includes no extras and the movie starts up immediately after loading. "The Conqueror" is a rare turkey for the Duke, as most of his post-"Stagecoach" output is very watchable. It's a must-see for die-hard fans of the Duke and when hosting movie nights where you want guests to leave early.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

Here is the New York Times review of the 1967 spoof version of "Casino Royale". Bosley Crowther was one of the most revered (and feared) reviewers during this Golden Age of film criticism. He was also notoriously cranky about the movies he reviewed, so it's somewhat surprising that he found at least some merit in this controversial comedy inspired by Ian Fleming's first James Bond novel.

By Adrian Smith 

In 1965 a huge brightly-painted sculpture of a reclining woman, called ‘Hon – en katedral’ (She – a cathedral), was displayed in a gallery in Stockholm. Visitors would enter the sculpture by walking through an open vagina, and inside they found two floors of amusements including a slide, a vending machine, silent film screenings, a public telephone and a ‘lovers' bench’ whose romantic conversations were secretly transmitted via microphone to a bar. This massive artwork was created by an art collective lead by French artist Niki de Saint Phalle and was a perfect melding of pop art and second wave feminism. 

By Lee Pfeiffer

Joyce Randolph, the last remaining cast member of the classic American sitcom "The Honeymooners", has passed away at her New York City home at age 99. She is survived by her son Randy. Regardless of your age, if you grew up in America over the last seven decades, you were exposed to her work on the sitcom, which is iconic in the nation's pop culture. The show was the brainchild of Jackie Gleason who portrayed New York City bus driver Ralph Kramden, bringing to the show elements of his own humble upbringing in Brooklyn. His wife Alice was played by Audrey Meadows and his best friend, sewer worker Ed Norton, was played by Art Carney with Joyce Randolph appearing as his wife Trixie. The concept for the series began as periodic sketches on Gleason's variety show before spinning off as a weekly sitcom. Gleason only did one season despite the success of the series and the episodes became known to fans as "The Classic 39". Gleason would revive "The Honeymooners" as musical sketches in his 1960s variety series. However, he recast the roles of Alice and Trixie, which did not sit well with fans. Additionally, seeing the characters outside of their dank, tiny Brooklyn apartment and now in living color, also dissipated enjoyment of the revival.  In an era in which most female characters were portrayed as mothers who were accepting that husband was the head of the household, "The Honeymooners" went against the grain. For one, both the Kramdens and Nortons never had children, a rarity for the era. Additionally, both Alice and Trixie were not compliant housewives. They challenged their husbands, sometimes in screaming matches, and generally ended up getting their way.

(Joyce attended Cinema Retro's 2016 tribute to Barbara Feldon at Theatre 80 St. Marks in New York. (Photo: Lee Pfeiffer/Cinema Retro)).

Joyce was a personal friend of mine for many years. On numerous occasions I interviewed her at some of New York's legendary arts clubs including The Players and The Lambs. During these appearances, I would interview her about her memories of the series and it was always in front of a full house. She was gracious, funny and a marvelous storyteller. After her husband Richard Charles died in 1997, Joyce continued to be a fixture on Gotham's social circuit, often holding court at the famous bar at Sardi's. Joyce said that while she liked Jackie Gleason, he was difficult to work with as an actor because he only did one rehearsal before the cast had to film each episode before a live audience. She once griped to me that Gleason had a photographic memory when it came to reading the scripts but had little sympathy for his cast mates who did not. She also felt she was very underpaid compared to her co-stars. She told me that many years later, she got even with Gleason when he was marketing the "lost" episodes of "The Honeymooners", which were previously missing sketches of varying lengths from his 1950s variety show. Gleason called her and asked her to sign a release so the shows could be telecast and also marketed on video. Joyce said, "I gave Jackie a piece of my mind" and told him she had been woefully underpaid. If Gleason needed her permission this time, he would have to meet her price. The Great One backed down and relented.

"The Honeymooners": Jackie Gleason, Audrey Meadows, Art Carney and Joyce Randolph. (Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)

One of my fondest memories was accompanying Joyce to a musical stage version of "The Honeymooners" some years ago at the Papermill Playhouse in New Jersey. She very much enjoyed being the center of attention for the press. Fans pressed to get near her and of course many of them tossed out iconic one-liners from the show. Having lived a good, long life, it's hard to say that Joyce has left us prematurely. However, New York won't be quite as much fun as it was when she was making the rounds in the city. I miss her already.

Once again, Turner Classic Movies has created a beautiful and moving video montage of those stars and filmmakers we lost during the year. Every year deprives us of irreplaceable and diverse talents, as the video fully illustrates. Doubtless, you'll have been unaware that some of these revered people had passed away. Their work, however, will be relevant for as long as there is cinema.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

By the time Burt Reynolds finally starred in the 1972 classic "Deliverance", he had been paying his dues in Hollywood for many years with varying degrees of success on television. His feature films, however, were strictly "B" grade. Saul David, who produced a 1970 film starring Reynolds titled "Skullduggery", bemoaned at the time that he should have been a major movie star but bad luck seemed to always interfere. Reynolds wisely cultivated an image as a hip, towel-snapping wiseguy through appearing on seemingly every American game and chat show. His appearances on "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson" merited "must-see TV" status. Ironically, "Deliverance" entirely abandoned this popular image of Reynolds and afforded him a dramatic role that he fulfilled with excellent results. But the success of the film made Reynolds anxious to prove he could sustain his boxoffice clout without the help of a strong co-star, in the case of of "Deliverance", Jon Voight. Reynolds chose wisely for his follow-up feature. "White Lightning" was developed under the working title "McClusky". The role of a hunky, charismatic southern good ol' boy fit Reynolds like a glove because it allowed him to incorporate his penchant for performing stunts with his flippant, wise-cracking TV persona.

Filmed in Arkansas, the movie finds Reynolds as "Gator" McClusky, a man doing prison time for running illegal moonshine. Gator still has another year to spend on the prison farm when he gets word that his younger brother has been murdered. (We see the scene play out over the opening credits in which two young men are brutally drowned in a swamp by the local sheriff, J.C. Connors (Ned Beatty) and his deputy.) Enraged and spoiling for revenge, Gator accepts a deal to work undercover for federal agents to expose Connors as the local Huey Long-type power broker in Bogan County. Indeed, the seemingly affable, understated Connors runs the entire county like a personal fiefdom, using extortion, shakedowns and outright murder to ensure his stature. He also gets a piece of the action from the very moonshiners he's supposed to prosecute. Gator feels uncomfortable working as a snitch but it's the only way to find out why his brother was killed and to bring Connors to justice. Using his considerable charm and his background as a guy from a small rural community, he finds himself quickly working for a moonshine ring headed by Big Bear (R.G. Armstrong), who is brutal in retribution against anyone who crosses him. Gator is assigned to deliver moonshine with a partner, Roy Boone (Bo Hopkins). They spend a lot of time together and become fast friends, even though Roy's hot-to-trot girlfriend Lou (Jennifer Billingsley) succeeds in seducing Gator, thus endangering his mission when Roy gets wind of the deception. When Gator learns the reason why his brother and his friend were murdered, he becomes even more vengeful, leading to a spectacular car chase involving Connors and his corrupt deputies. 

"White Lightning" was directed by Joseph Sargent, who was primarily known for his work in television. He fulfills the requirements of the film quite well, though the spectacular car chases and jaw-dropping action scenes were largely the work of legendary stutman/coordinator Hal Needham, who would go on to work on many films with Reynolds. The film is consistently lively but it also has moments of poignancy and drama. The supporting cast is terrific with Ned Beatty of "Deliverance" reuniting with Reynolds with good results. Beatty underplays the sense of menace attributable to his character. He also plays up his status as a pillar of the community, tossing off barbs about how hippies and big city liberals threaten "our values" and-worst of all- encourage "our coloreds to vote!". Meanwhile, he is heading up a vast criminal enterprise. Jennifer Billingsley is wonderful as the lovable air-headed seductress who will jump into bed with a man if there's a prospect of getting a new dress out of the bargain. There are also fine turns by Bo Hopkins, R.G. Armstrong and Diane Ladd (whose name in the opening and closing credits is misspelled as "Lad". Ouch!) The movie turned out to be a big hit for United Artists, aided in part by striking ad campaigns with the same weapon-as-phallic symbol design employed for Richard Roundtree's "Shaft's Big Score" the previous year coupled with another poster showing Reynolds behind the wheel of a speeding car. Sex and speed became hallmarks for promoting a Reynolds action movie.

Kino Lorber has reissued their 2019 Blu-ray edition, which is first-rate in all aspects, with a fine transfer and a 2014 interview with Burt Reynolds, who looks back fondly on the importance the movie had on proving he could be top-billed in a hit movie. The film initiated his association with rural-based comedies and action films and three years later, a successful sequel ("Gator") would be released. Reynolds also drops the interesting fact that this was to be Steven Spielberg's first feature film. However, Reynolds says the young TV director got cold feet about his ability to film on so many difficult locations, given that his background was largely working in studios. Reynolds praises his co-star Ned Beatty and reminds everyone that "White Lightning" was only his second film, having made his screen debut in "Deliverance".  He is also very complimentary towards Jennifer Billingsley and regrets that she never became a big star. Reynolds also discusses Hal Needham's zealousness for performing dangerous stunts and relates how one key scene in which a car shoots out over water to land on a moving barge almost went disastrously wrong. He says the film has a realistic atmosphere because of the screenplay by William W. Norton, who adapted many aspects of his own hard scrabble life. The only negative note Reynolds sounds is about Diane Ladd, who he cryptically says he did not like working with, although he doesn't go into detail as to why.The set includes a new feature not available on the previous Blu-ray release: a commentary track by film historian collaborators Steve Mitchell and Nathaniel Thompson. As far as commentary tracks are concerned, the duo are always terrific and this outing is no exception. Their easy-going, laid-back and humorous style is appropriate for the tone of the film. They go into great detail about aspects of the and cast. I hadn't realized until listening to the track how on-the-mark they are in assessing Ned Beatty as an actor whose physical appearance varied dramatically depending upon the type of story he was cast in. Indeed, they are correct. The evil good ol' boy corrupt sheriff of "White Lightning" is light years away from the fish-out-water rape victim of "Deliverance" or the demagogic TV executive of "Network". The track is good enough to merit upgrading to this version of the Blu-ray even if you have the previous release.

The Blu-ray also includes the original trailer, which was very effective in playing up Reynolds' emerging star power and reversible sleeve art showing an alternative ad campaign. Highly recommended.

By Lee Pfeiffer

If you're an Amazon Prime subscriber and in the mood to watch 2/3 of a terrific crime thriller, by all means check out "The Outfit", written by Graham Moore and Jonathan McLain. The production marks the directing debut of  Moore, who won the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar for his 2015 WWII spy thriller "The Imitation Game". Why do I refer to this as "2/3 of a terrific crime thriller"? I shall explain later. For now, let's examine the creative set-up of the film's plot. It is set in Chicago in 1956 and all of the action takes place inside a "Bespoke" tailor shop owned by Leonard Burling (Mark Rylance), a Brit who emigrated to Chicago right after WWII. The "Bespoke" aspect of his shop refers to a quaint term that indicates this isn't the place to buy off-the-rack suits. Rather, Leonard, who was Savile Row-trained, prides himself on creating custom-made duds for discriminating men of means. The shop is a dark, somewhat foreboding place and Leonard spends most of his days (and nights) obsessing over his latest masterworks in the back room. His only employee is his Girl Friday (to use an appropriately quaint term) Mabel (Zoey Deutch), a young woman who he takes a paternal interest in looking after. Leonard is affronted by being confused with a tailor and quickly points out that he is a professional cutter, a status that can only be achieved through years of apprenticeships and hard work.When asked if the destruction from the Blitz on London inspired his immigration to America, he quips that it wasn't and that his real enemy was the public's embracing of bluejeans. (It makes for a clever line, though, it's not accurate as bluejeans were certainly not a fashion rage during the 1940s.)

This seemingly unexciting setting is soon revealed to be a bastion of secrets. It seems that Leonard's best customer is a local mob kingpin, Roy (Simon Russell Beale), who has appropriated the shop as a communications hub for the wiseguys in his employ. Throughout the day and night, the gangsters drop off coded messages that are then picked up by other gangsters. In return for this cooperation, Leonard has become the preferred clothier for the nattily-dressed crooks. Two of the more frequent visitors to his shop are among the least welcome: Roy's son Richie (Dylan O'Brien) and his fellow mobster Francis (Johnny Flynn). The two are like brothers and share a penchant for cruelty, as evidenced by the fact that they constantly insult Leonard by not even addressing him by his name, opting instead to call him "English". Leonard keeps his head down and bears the humiliation. What else can he do? These are real-life killers with itchy trigger fingers. In the first of a number of revelations, Leonard learns that Richie is in a romantic relationship with Mabel. He knows she is making a mistake but she can't be dissuaded. Richie is handsome, exciting and has all the appeal of the trademark "bad boy" lover. The less divulged about the plot of a thriller, the better for prospective viewers.  However, a few plot points need to be discussed. At one point during this seemingly endless evening, Francis returns to the shop with a seriously wounded Richie, who has been shot by a rival gang. He can't bring Richie to a hospital for fear of police involvement. Instead, he forces Leonard to remove the bullet and stitch up Richie using his tailoring instruments. It makes for a tense, suspenseful scene. Later, Roy arrives at the shop looking for a major character who has gone missing. What he doesn't know is that the person is dead and is being concealed in a large trunk in the very room. Adding to the drama is the revelation that the F.B.I. has secretly recorded incriminating conversations, which sets everyone off on a frenzied search for the tape before the rival gang obtains it. It makes for some genuine slow-boiling tension.

Until this point, about 2/3 of the way through the film, things have been going swimmingly as director Moore keeps the pace measured and the suspense building- and then...then...in the immortal words of Yeats, "Things fall apart." Revelations are made by so many people in such a frenzied manner that the scenario become unintentionally funny and more appropriate for a "Naked Gun" script. It seems that Moore the screenwriter is intent on undermining Moore the director. There are inexcusable cliches. For example, the script invokes my warning of what I call the "Bear Trap Scenario". This occurs in any film in which a bear trap is shown early in the story in a seemingly innocuous manner only to be used by someone as a weapon later in the story (See "Straw Dogs", "Dead of Winter" and "Skyfall"). In, "The Outfit", much is made about Leonard's affection for his prized pair of cutting shears. "Oh, no", I thought, "It would be too obvious to have them used as an instrument of violence." But, voila! At the film's conclusion they certainly are. Then there's the revelation that there's a "rat" in the gang, which makes everyone understandably paranoid. The finale also finds the introduction of an exotic female crime kingpin known as La Fontaine (Nikki Amuka-Bird), who presides over a Black gang. Although Amuka-Bird's performance is spot-on, the character is more suited for a Bond film than an old world Chicago crime scenario in which most of the characters are reminiscent of a Bogart Warner Brothers production. La Fontaine's presence comes off as a bit of gimmicky casting that undermines the quickly evaporating sense of realism that was apparent in the first 2/3 of the production. Finally, director Moore goes off the hinges by turning the climax into a quasi slasher film, complete with the seemingly immortal antagonist. Squaring off against him, Leonard then makes some startling revelations of his own. Mind you, he does so in the midst of a raging inferno that conveniently seems to stop spreading while he delivers a soliloquy of sorts for dramatic effect.

I can't remember the last time I've seen such a promising film devolve and self-destruct in the manner that "The Outfit" does. It's a pity, too, because Mark Rylance gives a mesmerizing performance and he benefits from a fine supporting cast. To be fair, some reviewers have lavished the film with praise, so judge for yourself. Meanwhile, if you want to see a first-rate underrated crime thriller with the same title, check out the 1974 caper movie "The Outfit" starring Robert Duvall. It's tense, suspenseful and makes sense...and you don't have to fear the "Bear Trap Scenario" angle.

Here is a wonderful documentary about Walter Matthau from The Hollywood Collection:

"Walter Matthau was barely three when his father deserted the family. Subscribe for more Hollywood biographies and stories! http://bit.ly/HollywoodCollectionSub Poverty and New York street smarts produced a self-deprecating humor that never left. The G.I. Bill let him study acting and by 1951 he earned a New York Drama Critics Award. Television dramas followed and then came Hollywood. When director Billy Wilder cast him opposite Jack Lemmon, a classic partnership was created. In Lemmon, Matthau found an enduring friend and frequent co-star. Matthau’s real-life combination of cynicism and gruff sentimentality was reflected in the performances that brought him to major stardom. Two-time Academy Award winner, Matthau’s fifty years of show business have earned him the love of millions and the admiration of fellow professionals. Clips used include: A Face in the Crowd, Charade, The Fortune Cookie, The Odd Couple, Cactus Flower, The Sunshine Boys, Hopscotch, Grumpy Old Men and I’m Not Rappaport. In addition to Walter Matthau himself, on-screen interviewees include actors Jack Lemmon, Julie Harris, Ozzie Davis and Roddy McDowell, directors Herbert Ross, Edward Dmytryk, writer Neil Simon and Walter’s son, director Charles Matthau."

(To watch in full screen mode, click on "Watch on YouTube".)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Here's a bizarre scenario: a group called Tommy McCook and the Supersonics released a track called "Our Man Flint" on  Jamaican labe Treasure Isle, which was owned by Duke Reid, a larger-than-life record producer. Wikipedia describes him thusly:

" He was dressed in a long ermine cloak and a gilt crown on his head, with a pair of Colt 45s in cowboy holsters, a cartridge belt strapped across his chest and a loaded shotgun over his shoulder. It was not uncommon for things to get out of hand and it was said that Duke Reid would bring the crowd under control by firing his shotgun in the air."

Research shows the record was released in 1968. As for this track, aside from McCook, a well-known jazz artist, shouting out "Our Man Flint!" at the beginning of the song, there is no reference to the main theme from the film. In fact, as one YouTube commentator points out, the song on the record is actually "Sway", a lounge hit for Dean Martin. The record label also doesn't list the requisite credits for the composer and songwriter. However, it is a good, funky version of the song. 

By Lee Pfeiffer

Founded by producers James H. Nicholson and Samuel Z. Arkoff, American International Pictures (A.I.P.) hit upon a formula of financing and releasing low-budget exploitation films for non-discriminating audiences (translation: the youth market). Specializing in horror films and goofy comedies, A.I.P. occasionally strayed into other genres. In 1963, the company capitalized on the always-popular WWII genre with the release of "Operation Bikini". Ostensibly, the movie's title referred to the obscure atoll in the Pacific where atomic bomb tests were conducted during the Cold War era. However, in true A.I.P. style, the advertising campaign was designed to imply that the title might also refer to the fact that the bikini bathing suit was popularized here by a French designer who conducted a photo shoot on the atoll just days after an atomic blast. (Ignorant of the risks from radiation poison, he merrily pronounced that "Like the bomb, the bikini is small and devastating!") Still, the sexploitation angle in "Operation Bikini" was saved for late in the film. What precedes its appearance is a fairly routine combat flick made somewhat more interesting by the obvious attempts of the filmmakers to disguise the movie's very limited budget.  

Tab Hunter, one of the top heart throbs of the era, had by this point seen his popularity in decline. He nonetheless received top billing over charismatic crooner Frankie Avalon, whose career was ascending and who would find great popularity as the star of several A.I.P. beach movies over the next few years. Hunter plays Lt. Morgan Hayes, the leader of a secret commando team that has been ordered to rendezvous with a U.S. submarine that has been ordered to transport them on a secret mission. The team is supposed to locate and destroy the wreckage of an American sub that was recently sunk off the coast of Bikini by the Japanese. Seems the wreckage contains a prototype of a top secret sonar device that the Allies can't afford to fall into enemy hands. From minute one, Hayes' small group of rough house land-lubbers rubs the Captain of the submarine, Emmett Carey (Scott Brady) and his crew the wrong way. Hayes's men resent being cooped up in a floating "tin can" and the naval crew resents the presence of these brash soldiers who seem to be perpetually eager to provoke a fight. Carey gives Hayes a dressing down about keeping the tension levels low and the two men ultimately gain mutual respect for one another. Upon arriving at Bikini, Hayes and his men must sneak ashore and traverse the dense jungle in search of the area where the sunken submarine is located. They are guided by local partisans who conveniently include a stunning beauty named Reiko, played by Eva Six, a recent winner of the "Miss Golden Globes" honor. (I will refrain from making any tasteless jokes.) Reiko takes a shine to Hayes and gets his mind temporarily off his troubles by seducing him. When Hayes and his men finally arrive at their destination, they are dismayed to see a virtual fleet of Japanese vessels guarding the coast line where the sub is already being salvaged by the enemy. Hayes realizes that they are now probably on a suicide mission. Nevertheless, they persevere courageously, dodging and sometimes engaging Japanese patrols before sending in Hayes and some fellow scuba divers to attach time bombs to the hull of the sunken sub. (The sequence is rather absurd because the team accomplishes this in the dead of night despite not being able to employ any lighting equipment whatsoever.) Detected by the Japanese, Hayes and his heroes take some casualties in their desperate attempt to make it back to Capt. Carey's submarine.

"Operation Bikini" is a "by the numbers" WWII yarn that isn't noticeably better or worse than many of the other "B" movies of this genre that were released in the 1960s. Director Anthony Carras, who edited some of the better Poe adaptations for producer Roger Corman, employs grainy stock footage of real combat sequences to get around his limited budget. However, there are a couple of sequences that are unintentionally amusing in which we find the crew of the submarine standing on deck, supposedly in the middle of the ocean. The scenes are clearly filmed on a sound stage because there is absolutely no movement of the vessel at all. Apparently the budget didn't even allow for a few crew members to gently "rock" the vessel. Additionally, the backdrop consists of either a white or black wall with nary a hint of nature evident. Hunter looks sullen and dreary throughout the entire proceedings, even when stripping off his shirt for the love scene. The supporting cast includes some offspring of Hollywood legends: Jody McCrea (son of Joel) and Gary Crosby (son of "Der Bingle").  Michael Dante is the executive officer of the sub and in a rather offbeat bit of casting, Jim Backus is seen in a dramatic role as a member of the demolition team. Hunter's fellow teen idol  Frankie Avalon is cast in his usual role as wise-cracking street guy. In the film's most bizarre sequences, he drools over a photo of the prim and proper girl he left behind. while singing an awful love song about trying not to be tempted by the "bad girls" he meets while on duty away from home. Although the film is in black and white, these fantasy sequences are shot in color. The "good girl" is shown lovingly waiting for him while dressed like somebody's great grandmother and is presented in B&W. Meanwhile, the leggy temptress is seen in full color,  attired in a slinky cocktail dress and gyrating her hips suggestively. The virginal good girl gets the short end of the stick. These weird sequences are an amusing example of how A.I.P. used an "everything but the kitchen" sink formula to appeal to young audiences, regardless of the lack of logic. The formula is employed in the film's equally bizarre epilogue which extols the fact that the bikini bathing suit is closely associated with Bikini. We observe a several minute sequence (also shot in color) in which two young women lounge around the beach in skimpy swim attire for no apparent reason than to stimulate the already raging hormones of the movie's intended male teenage audience.

(The film is currently available for streaming through ScreenPix, which is available to Amazon Prime subscribers for an additional fee every month.) 

CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE DVD FROM THE CINEMA RETRO MOVIE STORE

Here's an original production featurette from the 70's kid's classic "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" that concentrates on Art Director Harper Goff's incredible creations. 

Actor and singer David Soul has passed away at age 80. Soul had a long career. The Chicago native got his first big break with a co-starring role in the TV sitcom "Here Come the Brides", which was inspired by "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers". His supporting role opposite Clint Eastwood in the 1973 Dirty Harry film "Magnum Force" led to him co-starring with Paul Michael Glaser in the iconic 1970s TV series "Starsky and Hutch" with the two actors portraying hip, wise-cracking and rule-breaking detectives. In 1977, Soul, who was also an accomplished singer, had a #1 hit with "Don't Give Up On Us, Baby". He would record five albums. In the 1990s, he moved to England, where he enjoyed success on stage and screen. For more, click here.

By Hank Reineke

I much prefer writing about obscure or little-known items of celluloid than attempt to tackle a bona fide film classic as The Quatermass Xperiment.  The best chroniclers and historians of science-fiction and horror film history have proven to be a distinguished, thoroughly immersive, and informed band of researchers, commentators and authors.  Which, sadly, leaves also-rans such as myself little insight to add to what discourse exists already.  But in the rare event that someone who reads Cinema Retro is unfamiliar with Val Guest’s classic of British sci-fi, I’ll press on and attempt at a simple synopsis of The Quatermass Xperiment:

The nose end of an intact rocket ship crash lands in an open misty field deep in the English countryside.  Within minutes, police, fire vehicles, ambulances and curious locals gather to view the wreckage.  Among those taking command at the scene is the irascible and cocksure Professor Quatermass, barking orders that override even those of the assemblage of police and military officials.  Quatermass, we soon learn, was the primary architect of this wrecked three-crew space mission.  We also learn via the protest of an upset official from the Ministry of Defence, that Quatermass’s interstellar space voyage was unsanctioned by the British government.

Only one of the three astronauts originally launched, Victor Carroon, has seemingly survived this orbital freefall. Truth be told, it’s hard for scientists to determine conclusively.  Two of the astronaut’s spacesuits are still aboard the craft, but now curiously empty of their occupants.  Carroon is unable to explain what went on prior to the spacecraft’s unceremonious crash to earth.  Carroon has returned in a near-catatonic state.  He’s unable to speak… save for a desperate, mumbled plea asking his rescuers to “Help Me.”  Unfortunately for all involved, they are mostly unable to.

To make matters more peculiar, upon close examination it becomes unclear to his caregivers if Carroon actually is Carroon.  The fingerprints taken upon his return do not match that of the pre-flight astronaut.  One doctor suggests the prints examined are not “even human” in form.  It’s determined that whomever this “shell of a man” is, he’s being slowly transformed into something decidedly non-human.   

As one might expect, this faux-Carroon manages to escape from his hospital quarantine.  He roams the streets and riverbanks of London and surrounding areas, searching for food and scaring locals in the process.  Quatermass, the police, and the military are in pursuit, helpfully assisted by Carroon’s continual shedding of human-form to something more gelatinous.  As the ill-fated astronaut continues to devolve, he conveniently leaves behind a luminous path of radioactive waste in his wake for his pursuers to follow in trail.  The film climaxes with a climactic showdown between earthlings and alien in the hallowed chamber of Winchester Cathedral.     

The Hollywood Reporter was among the first of the trade papers in the U.S. to confirm that production of The Quatermass Xperiment was to commence in October of 1954.  (Technically speaking, the earliest reports first offered details under the film’s working title of Shock!) It was announced that Val Guest would direct the extravaganza, a film soon to be trumpeted as “The Most Fantastic Story Ever Told!” Hammer Films’ Michael Carreras and Anthony Hinds would produce, with the picture’s U.K. distribution to be handled by London’s Exclusive Films.  The screenplay of Shock! – based on the characters created by writer Nigel Keane for the Quatermass BBC television series of 1953 - was reported as a collaboration of veteran screenwriter Richard Landau and Guest.

Bringing Quatermass to the big screen seemed a sure bet.  The earlier BBC series had proven wildly popular, millions of UK viewers tuning into their parlor sets to watch the extra-terrestrial exploits of the Professor.  In a 1973 interview with Chris Knight (later published in the June 2018 issue of Richard Klemensen’s seminal Little Shoppe of Horrors magazine) Rudolph Cartier, the producer-director of the original BBC television series gave the lion share of credit to Kneale’s brilliantly conceived scenarios.   

Cartier thought Kneale’s cliffhanger scripting was the deciding factor in the success of the television series.  The producer was equally impressed by Kneale’s ability to write the natural dialogue of “real people,” which exhibited an unerring “ability to play on the underlying fears of the human soul.”  In that very same issue of LSOH, director John Carpenter – no slouch in creating totemic horror and sci-fi films himself – equally acknowledged Guest’s big screen version of The Quatermass Xperiment as “horrifyingly groundbreaking.” Carpenter thought the film version offered well-executed and thoughtful explorations of “the fear of the unknown.”   

On one of the supplements included on this release from Kino Lorber, Carpenter on Quatermass: On Camera Interview with Legendary Director John Carpenter,” the auteur recalls catching The Quatermass Xperiment (under its U.S. release title of The Creeping Unknown) as a youngster in Kentucky.  He thought the film both “profound” and mind-blowing, arriving timely on the heels of a world post-atom bomb and on the cusp of American and Soviet interest in space exploration.  Carpenter was of the opinion The Quatermass Xperiment was the “first powerful gift” of Hammer Films’ fright factory.    

Perhaps. But in 1955 the original creators of the television series didn’t share that rosy view.  Cartier acknowledged that Kneale was particularly unhappy with Hammer’s adaptation of his work.  So much so that the scenarist even cautioned Cartier “not to go” to the cinema to visit the film upon release. Kneale might have been – perhaps understandably - over-protective of his personal vision, but he was not alone in his assessment.  Upon the film’s release, one London-based critic mused while the first Hammer Quatermass film certainly offered cinemagoers the “full horror comic treatment,” he thought “Some of the TV Tension” of the original BBC series was “lost in this film’s extravagant chiller gimmicks.”   

Today only aged folks with long memories can say whether Kneale’s The Quatermass Experiment series was greater than Hammer’s The Quatermass Xperiment (with an “X”). Sadly, only two of the original six-episode summer of 1953 BBC broadcast are extant, so comparisons aren’t possible.  Oh, but about that “Experiment” versus “Xperiment…”

Guest was aware his picture would likely be given an “X” certificate designation – no child under the age of sixteen admitted into the cinema due to alleged “explicit” content.  Such branding was not unexpected given the temperature of the times.  Guest had previously submitted a sample copy of the script to a censor at the British Board of Film Classification who, upon reading, advised as such.  But Guest chose to press on regardless of losing an important audience demographic.  “Some people thought we were mad to go ahead, but I had faith in it,” he offered to Picturegoer.  One BBC feature writer suggested the prominent “X” in the film’s “Xperiment” title was purposeful, Hammer Film’s sly rebuke of the picture’s undeserved “X” classification.     

Upon the film’s release, it appeared Guest’s gambit had paid off.  London’s Picturegoer was particularly enthused with The Quatermass Xperiment, enthusing that a British studio had - at last - managed a production, “to make Hollywood’s Frankenstein’s and Dracula’s curl up in their crypts.”  That might have been so, but Guest nonetheless cautioned the film not be preemptively tagged as a run-of-the-mill “horror” movie.  Such designation brought with it expectations.  “We didn’t really set out to make that kind of film, you know,” Guest corrected.  “I’d prefer it if you call the film a ‘chiller.’”   

Picturegoer noted there were plans to release the film in U.S. markets under its provisional title of Shock!  But that re-title wouldn’t happen.  In March of 1956, Variety reported that Robert Lippert of United Artists had paid a flat fee of $125,000: he believed this “thriller-type film” held “potential value” in the U.S. market.  The brief item also noted the film’s U.S. domestic release title change would be The Creeping Unknown.  Upon its U.S. release - and following its scoring of “fancy” box-office returns for United Artists - a Variety critic acknowledged, The Creeping Unknown (“a gelatinous octopus-like mass that absorbs all plant and animal life that it touches”) was a “competently made drama, containing sufficient suspense and frightening elements.”

The film’s success in the U.S. was not assured.  As neither Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass BBC serial – nor the Professor Bernard Quatermass character – were generally on the radar of American couch-sitters, United Artists retitling The Quatermass Xperiment under the far more provocatively sinister and exploitative name of The Creeping Unknown made sense.  (On a special feature included here that compares the differences between the U.K. and U.S. cuts of the film - the latter running approximately two and-a-half minutes shorter - it’s noted that a surviving continuity script titled the film in pre-release as Monster from Outer Space).

The Creeping Unknown was paired in the U.S. as the undercard of a ballyhoo “Double Horror Show! of “Two Terrific Horror Pictures!” (of which Reginald LeBorg’s The Black Sleep (1956) would top-line).  The LeBorg film, while no venerable classic, was certainly the more marketable of the two – at least in the U.S.  The cast of The Quatermass Xperiment were peopled with faces mostly unfamiliar to U.S. moviegoers. In contrast, The Black Sleep offered an illustrious cast of familiar and beloved genre actors: Basil Rathbone, Lon Chaney Jr., Bela Lugosi, John Carradine and Tor Johnson amongst them.

United Artists certainly wasn’t about to gamble on its investment in this British undercard.  Under the title banner of The Creeping Unknown, the U.S. marketing department was tasked to play up the film’s more exploitative angles.  The art department conjured up a garish one-sheet poster featuring a crashed rocket ship and gigantic demonic creature hovering above the heads of a terrified, fleeing populace. The poster’s caption read: “You Can’t Escape It!  Nothing Can Destroy It! It’s Coming for You from Space to Wipe all Living Things from the Face of the Earth!  Can it Be Stopped?”

It was a prudent time for United Artists to release the film in the U.S. as the 1950s “Silver Age” of cinematic science-fiction in full bloom.  In 1956 alone, theater cash boxes were stuffed with receipts from such pictures as Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, Forbidden Planet, Godzilla, King of the Monsters, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, It Conquered the World, The Creature Walks Among Us, The Mole People, and World Without End – and that’s to name only a few.  Interest in sci-fi would continue to blossom and explode throughout the 1950s, with 1957 and 1958 being particularly banner years for the genre.  

According to the film’s U.S. pressbook, director Val Guest had helmed no fewer than seven motion pictures in a twelve-month span, The Creeping Unknown being the seventh.  Guest had been, all things considered, an odd choice to be asked to direct.  Guest admitted he was a mostly disinterested observer of science fiction of any sort.  So he expressed surprise when producer Anthony Hinds had approached him to helm the film.  Most of the films Guest had previously directed - and was best known for - were straight-on comedies.  Since Guest admitted honestly to having not watched the wildly popular BBC series, Hinds pressed copies of Kneale’s original tele-scripts to help familiarize him with the material.  On holiday with his wife in Tangiers, Guest – at first, reluctantly - began to read through the scripts.  He would acknowledge Kneale’s storytelling left him “pinned to his deckchair.”    

There was certainly interest that Hammer test the viability of The Quatermass Xperiment/The Creeping Unknown playing overseas.  There was one major hurdle.  Should the film employ only or primarily a British cast, the main players would be practically unknown to U.S. moviegoers.  Guest noted it was mostly at the insistence of the American distributor that an actor of some marquee standing in the U.S. be given the lead role.  So the producers brought in the American actor Brian Donlevy to play Professor Quatermass.  

Donlevy was well known to American film audiences.  The actor had worked regularly and steadily in Hollywood, more often than not in rough-and-tumble tough-guy roles: prize-fighters to cowboys to soldiers to film noir detectives.  But certainly not as an egg-head scientist.  (As a completely irrelevant aside – but a fun fact all the same - Donlevy would later wed the widow of Bela Lugosi).  The casting of Donlevy was the only major talent concession.  Most folks cast were familiar faces of past Guest productions, the director preferring to work alongside the dependable professionals of his own repertory company.  

Both Carpenter and Guest suggest that Kneale was particularly unhappy with the casting of a brash, somewhat tactless Yank as Quatermass.  Kneale’s Quatermass was, in Guest’s reading, “a very English, Professor-like character,” a model of British gentility.  Donlevy exhibited none of these qualities, but Guest welcomed bringing the actor’s tough-guy persona to the fore – even if that meant partly re-creating the character as envisioned by the dissatisfied Kneale.  Carpenter too recalled Kneale’s obvious displeasure in the Donlevy casting, but personally found the actor’s performance as suitable.  Having worked with the scenarist on two projects (an ultimately unmade remake of The Creature from the Black Lagoon and on Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982, for which the writer’s contribution was uncredited), Carpenter reminisced that Kneale - while certainly talented - was a “handful” to work with.  

In any event, the film was a success.  By spring of 1956, Donlevy was already back in London to work on a second Quatermass film, X the Unknown (also co-written and directed by Guest).  As this follow-up would cost $140,000 to produce (a 60% increase over the more economically-budgeted The Quatermass Xperiment), Exclusive Films, the United Kingdom distributor,  entered into a partnership with United Artists – the latter agreeing to put up 75% of that cost for a 50/50 box office share.  

In some manner of speaking, the American had been upstaged in the first film.  Donlevy’s co-star Richard Wordsworth was mostly unknown to U.S. moviegoers, the actor having only recently graduated from stage to television to film acting.  Indeed, The Quatermass Xperiment would log as his first big-screen credit.  His performance as the alien-infected mute Victor Carroon received good notices: quite a feat considering his character spoke nary a line of dialogue.  In many respects, Wordsworth steals the show, delivering a frightening, tortured portrait of the empty-shell astronaut.  Guest thought Wordsworth “brilliantly” acted the part, relying solely on the conveyance of haunted facial expressions and gentle physical movements to emote.