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.
William Friedkin’s The French Connection(1971) swept the 1972 Academy Awards ceremony and went on to become a smash hit with both critics and audiences alike. During promotion of the film months earlier, Mr. Friedkin received a copy of The Exorcist from William Peter Blatty, a writer whom he had met five years earlier and whose script of a project he was offered he brushed off. Fascinated by this new novel, The Exorcist, Mr. Friedkin agreed to direct the film.
Revered the world over as the scariest movie ever made, The Exorcist is staunchly referred by both its writer and director as a detective story about the nature and mystery of faith. Neither gentleman was interested in making a horror film, but given the film’s marketing campaign in 1973, few could have believed that it was anything but a horror film. My late grandmother had recalled more times than I care to admit that when she was seventeen, she was terrified to go and see James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931) because the film’s poster provided this warning as such: “If you have a weak heart and cannot stand intense excitement or even shock...We advise you NOT see the production...If, on the contrary, you like an unusual thrill, you will find it in "Frankenstein". A bit of reverse psychology never hurt anyone…certainly not the box office anyway! The new documentary, The Exorcist Untold, which does not appear to be licensed by Warner Brothers, is directed by Robin Bextor, runs 70-minutes and provides us with a glimpse of the hysteria that gripped the world as unsuspecting audiences stood for hours in less-than-comfortable weather to see the film adaptation of the best-selling novel. The book initially went unknown upon its 1971 publication as there was little publicity surrounding it. There is a case to be made that actor Robert Shaw’s drunkenness prior to his scheduled 1971 appearance on The Dick Cavett Show resulted in him being cancelled and replaced with author Blatty. This interview made such an impression on Mr. Cavett’s audience that The Exorcist became the number one best-selling novel the following week.
The documentary, which features anecdotes and comments from experts in diversified backgrounds, makes one thing plain: no one today who did not see The Exorcist during its initial December 1973 release can come close to comprehending what it was like to see it theatrically at that time. In the absence of social media and the constant interconnected nature of contemporary life, major newspapers of that era reported on audiences vomiting or passing out in the theatres. The film was a major shock to their systems and gave rise to debates, both publicly and privately, on God and the Devil. Experts weigh in and generally agree on the film’s power while collectively repudiating the much-maligned and fast-tracked John Boorman sequel four years hence. HoweverExorcist III: Legion (1990) receives praise from Mr. Blatty’s family. There is also a discussion about how Mr. Friedkin discovered Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells, the first album release on Sir Richard Branson’s Virgin Records label and used the opening of the album as a counterpoint to the action on the screen. Instantly recognizable now and referred to as “The Exorcist Theme,” this led to millions of copies of the album selling on the basis of its use in the film.
Mr. Friedkin’s biographer, the always eloquent and erudite Nat Segaloff, speaks at length about Mr. Friendkin and the film. He is the author of The Exorcist Legacy: 50 Years of Fear and is an excellent authority on the subject.He discusses Mr. Friedkin’s unorthodox methods of getting a natural reaction from an actor, which would probably not go over well today! Here’s hoping that an expanded version of his excellent Hurricane Billy: The Stormy Life and Films of William Friedkin (1990) gets an update and reissue.
One portion of the documentary that I found delightful and was news to me is a section discussing the iconic stair steps in the film. As a film fanatic, I enjoy seeking out the locations to favorite films of mine and seeing how they have changed in the years since. The French Connection, being my favorite film, was the first film’s locations that I sought out in July 1990. Many of these locales are now gone, but I was lucky enough to visit them back then. I have made my way to The Exorcist steps twice since 2008, and in October 2015 a ceremonial plaque was dedicated and unveiled at the base of the steps to commemorate the film’s location. Both the writer and director were on-hand at the unveiling. This event is included in the documentary.
There is also a good deal of behind-the-scenes footage, discussions of what was left on the cutting room floor, mentioning the Manson killings coming on the heels of the end of the “Flower Children” era and the on-going Vietnam War, and a lot of footage of first-time audience reactions and their impressions.
The film refers to The Exorcist as “a compelling supernatural murder mystery with a moral theme.”
A must-see for fans of the film.
(Note: this review is derived from a screener link.)
Click HERE to view online or purchasethe DVD of The Exorcist Untold on Amazon.com. Click here to order from Amazon UK.
Turner Classic Movies(TCM) will celebrate the 100th
Anniversary of Columbia Pictures with a spotlight on their
incredible film legacy beginning Wednesday, January 3. Join TCM host
Ben Mankiewicz in the month-long celebration showcasing the breadth of the
studio’s films with a different decade every Wednesday, from the 1920s and
1930s with “It Happened One Night” all the way through to 2000s “Marie
Antoinette.” The celebration will kick off Wednesday, January 3 at 8pm ET,
ahead of Columbia Pictures 100th Anniversary on January 10.
The following is a complete schedule for TCM’s January Spotlight:
TCM January Spotlight: Columbia Pictures 100th Anniversary
(All Times Eastern)
Wednesday, January 3 Night
One – the 1920s and 1930s
Cinema Retro has received the following press release from The History Press:
Featuring a host of unpublished interviews, this is the first book to explore the greatest year in Hollywood's history - 1971
By anyone’s estimate 1971 was a great year for cinema. Has any other
year boasted such a mass of talented filmmakers plying their trade?
Polanski, Woody Allen, Spielberg, Kubrick, Peckinpah, Sergio Leone,
Robert Altman, George Lucas, Dario Argento, Nicolas Roeg and Ingmar
Bergman, among many others, were behind the camera, while the stars were
out in force, too. Clint Eastwood, Marlon Brando, Sean Connery, Michael
Caine, Al Pacino, Jane Fonda, Gene Hackman, Paul Newman, Raquel Welch,
Dustin Hoffman, Robert de Niro, Jack Nicholson, Steve McQueen and Warren
Beatty all had films come out in 1971.
This remarkable artistic
flowering that came from the ‘New Hollywood’ of the '70s was just
beginning in 1971. The old guard was fading away and the new guard was
taking over. With a decline in box office attendances by the end of the
'60s, along with a genuine inability to come up with a reliable
barometer of box office success, studio heads gave unprecedented freedom
to younger filmmakers to lead the way. Featuring interviews with some
of Hollywood's biggest names, bestselling author Robert Sellers explores
this landmark year in Hollywood and in Britain, when this new age was
at its freshest, and where the transfer of power was felt most
exhilaratingly.
Bursting on to the scene with UFO
Target Earth in 1974, with a style clearly inspired
by Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), it’s a documentary
format-film wherein interviewees discuss their “experiences” with UFO’s. An early
entry in the history of computer-generated imagery (CGI) following Michael
Crichton’s Westworld the year before, UFO Target Earth showcases
the first time that CGI, albeit 8-bit, was used to create an alien for a motion
picture, an accomplishment that Mr. de Gaetano was very proud of. The film also
makes expert use of Krzysztof Penderecki’s “De Natura Sonoris No. 2” years before
Stanley Kubrick employed it in The Shining (1980). UFO Target Earth
is a nifty bit of Seventies nostalgia complete with rotary phones, telecommunications
mechanical relay-switching equipment, AMPEX reel-to-reel recorders, and mainframe
computers, all of which are arguably unidentifiable objects to members of
Generation Z.
His second film was Haunted,
which starred Virginia Mayo and Aldo Ray. It concerned the descendants of a
woman’s accusers of her being a witch meeting a violent end after rumors abounded
of her returning as an evil spirit. The comedy Scoring, featuring
Laurene Landon about a female basketball team against a men’s team, was released
in 1979. 1989’s Bloodbath in Psycho Town, 1995’s Project: Metalbeast,
and 1996’s Butch Camp with Judy Tenuta followed.
At the time of his death, Mr. de
Gaetano was developing a script for actress Vanessa Redgrave to star in called Red
Gold.
CinemaRetro.com would like to extend to
Mr. de Gaetano’s family our condolences upon his passing.
“Noir Bar” by Eddie Muller (Running Press)228 Pages, Illustrated (B&Wand color);
Hardback. ISBN: 9780762480623
If you’re a fan of all things related to Film Noir,
you’re probably quite familiar with Eddie Muller, who is known as the Noir
Czar. Muller’s passion for the genre is well-known and his influence in keeping
Noir in vogue is widespread. He founded the Film Noir Foundation in 2005,
through which he hosts popular film festivals. He’s also a regular host on
Turner Classic Movies’ presentations of Noir movies, always nattily attired and
giving viewers tips on how dress in real Noir style. He’s also a
prolific author who we interviewed about his landmark book “Dark City”, which
is the seminal book on the subject. One would think he’s covered every
conceivable angle in regard to analyzing the genre but he’s pulled another
rabbit out of his hat with the release of “Noir Bar”, an infectious and clever
advisory about how to properly prepare cocktails inspired by Noir films. Thus,
we have recipes related to specific film titles including The Asphalt
Jungle, The Big Sleep (the original, of course!) and more obscure gems such
as Decoy.As the press release
points out, “Rita Hayworth is toasted with a Sailor
Beware, an original concoction which, like the film that inspired it, The Lady from Shanghai, is unique,
complex, and packs a wallop.”But
there’s more…much more. In addition to enticing close-ups of the concoctions,
there is an abundance of superb B&W stills and colourful movie posters.
It’s the stuff that dreams are made of…and also hangovers. Highly recommended
even for teatotallers.
(Photo:TCM)
Sample recipe:
BLACK
MANHATTAN INSPIRED BY SIDE STREET
What could be more appropriate to this
film than a Black Manhattan, a noir twist on the most classic of whiskey-based
cocktails?
COUPE GLASS, chilled
MIXING GLASS, strained
2 ounces rye whiskey
1 ounce Averna amaro
Dash Angostura bitters
Dash orange bitters
Garnish Luxardo Maraschino cherries
NOTES: I garnish this with at least
two cherries on a cocktail skewer. Since you can’t see the cherries in the
drink, rest the skewer on the lip of the glass. Getting Luxardo cherries on a
skewer takes finesse; you don’t want the sticky syrup on your fingers. Use a
barspoon to fish up a cherry, hold it against the inside lip of the jar, and
gently pierce the fruit, using the spoon to push it to the middle of the
skewer. Repeat with one or two more cherries. Wipe the excess off the skewer
with a napkin before setting it across the glass.
April Wright is a film director whose credits include the
documentaries Going Attractions: The Definitive Story of the American
Drive-In Movie (2013), Going Attractions: The Definitive Story of the
Movie Palace (2019) and Stuntwomen: The Untold Hollywood Story
(2020), all of which can be viewed JustWatch.com.
Like all of us cinephiles, Ms. Wright was not just a fan of movies but also a
lover of the experience of going to see a movie, especially at the
drive-in. Ms. Wright and I are similar in age and her enthusiasm for the
drive-in dates back to her childhood, a familial outing which became a much-anticipated
and frequent event during the summer months. I cannot make that claim,
unfortunately, as I have attended the drive-in only a handful of times in my
life.
Ms. Wright’s latest film, Back to the Drive-In (2023),
looks at a dozen remaining drive-ins across the United States and the owners
who are, quite honestly, struggling to keep them going. It’s a poignant look at
an American pastime that has slowly become an endangered species.
Todd Garbarini: I loved your film. I’ve been a movie
fan all my life and I love drive-ins, as well as big and beautiful movie
theaters. Clearly you share my enthusiasm.
April Wright: Yes, absolutely. I had a movie family
in a way. My dad had an 8mm camera and reel-to-reel editing equipment for that
in the basement. I did understand a little bit of the nuts and bolts of
filmmaking even when I was a kid. We watched lots of movies. There was a
neighborhood movie palace down the street from my house in Chicago that my
brother and sister ended up working at. I was able to see a lot of movies. I’ve
been interested in movie palaces, just because they were so big and ornate. Now
you watch movies at home or on your smartphone and that showmanship is changing
and I just don’t really understand why. I like making movies to remind people
about what a cool experience it can be seeing a movie as an event and an
experience.
TG: Do you remember the very first movie
you saw in either a drive-in or in a movie theater?
AW: I really don’t because it was just so
commonplace that we saw a lot of movies, so I don’t have any “first-experience”
memories. I kind of remember seeing Song of the South as a kid and I
remember Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I’m sure I saw some of
the Herbie the Love Bug films. Escape to Witch Mountain, I remember
seeing that one at a drive-in. I love horror films and I saw them, too. One
thing I remember vividly is when Carrie was on television, and my mom
telling me I couldn’t come in the room. Of course, I really wanted to, and I
snuck downstairs. I looked in right at the end where the hand comes out. It
scared me, but it made me really curious. When I was older and I saw the whole
movie, it’s one of my favorite films of all time. It intrigued me in a way,
just planted that seed since she made it even more forbidden, like, “You can’t
watch this!” (laughs)
TG: You’ve made a documentary about movie
palaces.
AW: Yes! One of the interviews in that
movie is shot at the Loew’s Jersey City. We shot that in 2017. That’s a
gorgeous theater. I love it. When that reopens, it’s going to be really great.
That theater’s interesting because at one point in time, they had split it into
three theaters during the multiplex era.
TG: What?! Are you serious? I had no idea…
AW: Yes, so on the main floor, they split
it right down the middle. You had half of the main screen on the left and the
other half on the right. They covered the balcony so that they had a third
screen up there and they took all that out, which is incredible that they were
able to remove all that partitioning. Right down the street is The Stanley
Theater which is now home to the Jehovah’s Witnesses. We got to go in there
during the Theater Historical Society
tours that we were on. That one is gorgeous, too. It’s an atmospheric
theater and they used to have a blue sky and twinkling lights on the ceiling in
most of them. Then it would look like a little town around you as if you were
outside. It’s impeccably maintained, it’s gorgeous, but they painted their
ceiling white, so it looks like you’re up in the heavens or up in the clouds
when you’re in there.
TG: I’m jealous because in my area, I had a
handful of movie theaters that I went to over the years, and now they’re all
gone. One of them was the Plainfield Edison Drive-In. They had a double feature
of Black Christmas and Psycho, TheVelvet Vampire, Lemora:
A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural, etc. It opened in 1957 and closed in
1984, the year before I obtained my driver’s license!
AW: I don’t know if you know this, but the
very first drive-in ever was in New Jersey.
TG: Yes, that was Camden. The founder was Richard
Hollingshead.
AW: Yes! His son is in my first documentary
talking about how his dad invented it. It opened in 1933, so this year is the 90th
anniversary of the drive-in, which is pretty cool.
TG: Hard to believe. In fact, what I liked
about your new film, Back to the Drive-In, is that you have the Delsea
Drive-In in Vineland, NJ, the only remaining drive-in in the state.
AW: Yes. I went down there. We shot more,
but they said, “Oh, we don’t want to be in it that much.” Some people like
being on camera and don’t.A lot of the drive-in owners are part of the
United Drive-In Theater Owners Association, there’s a group. They have an
annual conference in Florida. I went to it in February of 2020, which is right before
COVID. I knew I wanted to do a follow-up (to my previous film about drive-ins),
and at that point in time, I thought I wanted to just go really in depth with perhaps
three families. I said to them there, “Does anybody want to be part of this
film?” There were some other drive-ins that had wanted to be part of my next
film that weren’t in my first one, and so I had a few potential ones. Then a
month later, COVID hit, and even though drive-ins were open, I still felt like
states were changing the rules and everything was still weird for a little
while. I waited, but then the more that COVID was going on and then drive-ins
started getting all this attention, I thought that this is a layer to my story
that I never could have anticipated. It made me expand that instead of just
showing a few families in depth and what they do. I wanted to show not only
that, but what was COVID doing to it? It made me want to have a bigger cross-section.
I needed to see what was going on and go to some really old and some fairly new
drive-ins. I wanted to go to some big ones with seven screens, and I wanted to
go to the single screens out in different states. I tried to just pick every
type of factor to represent. The weird thing was, as soon as I got on the road
and went to a few of them, I realized they were all telling me the same story. They
were all struggling. Everybody was just trying to get through this period. They
were small businesses, family-owned, and they were just trying so hard to keep
them going because they really care about what it provides to their community.
That’s how it came about. I was going to do it anyway, but then the way I
decided to do it evolved because of COVID.
TG: What I find interesting is, in the
movie, they say, “We ask you to keep your mask on while you’re in the car.” We
forget how bad it really was back then during the height of COVID.
AW: Yes. I think that might have been a
California drive-in, too, because California was more rigid than other places.
California was definitely in a program wherein if the numbers were high, the
rules were stricter. If the numbers went down, then it got released. That might
have been at a moment when the numbers were high. I know because although I’m
from Chicago, I live in Los Angeles.
TG: I haven’t been to LA since 2008. I have
gone to more drive-ins as an adult while out on business than I ever did when I
was a child. It just kills me to see this type of thing dying out. I look at
the theaters that used to be around here on CinemaTreasures.org and there is no
evidence that these places ever existed.
AW: I know. When you see a horror movie at
a drive-in and you can look over to your right or left, and there’s a forest right
next to you, that’s an extra layer of film! That’s like 4-D!
TG: Who are some of your favorite directors?
AW: One of my favorites is Brian De Palma.
TG: Oh, I love him. I just saw the new Dressed
to Kill 4K Blu-ray and it’s beautiful.
AW: I really like pretty much all his
films, just theway he shoots them. I like the
split-screen stuff.I think they all hold up. He had great actors and
all of them and just, yes, I think he’s a great filmmaker. Like even the Mission
Impossible series, I still think the first one is the best one that he
directed.
TG: Do you like William Friedkin?
AW: I do. Actually, we’ve met and chatted before
because he’s also a fellow Chicagoan. I love TheFrench Connection.
That’s probably his best movie, my absolute favorite. I went to a screening of
that at the Academy where he was there doing Q&A and just some of the stuff
that he did because he came out of documentaries first. For him to do moving
shots the way he did and just the grittiness of it, I mean that was something
on the newer side when he shot something that way. Yes, I really love that.I love all John Carpenter’s
stuff, for sure. Richard Linklater. I love (Steven) Soderbergh’s work because
he’s just made such a wide array of movies, big movies but also small and experimental,
some that he shot on videos cameras. He tries different things. I really like
them as filmmakers as well. Amy Heckerling has such a great body of work and
Penelope Spheeris. She started in documentaries. I actually just went to see
her doc a few days ago, the first Decline of Western Civilization, about
punk and she was there for Q&A. I love Nicholas Cage, too. Thrillers and
horror are probably my number one. Of course, I do like documentaries as well,
especially if they’re about subjects that you can learn something about.The
Shining is one of my favorites of all time. Also, I love John Landis. I’m
from Chicago, and he shot some things there like TheBlues Brothers.
TG: How much footage did you shoot for Back
to the Drive-In?
AW: Quite a bit. I had a crew to help me in
Los Angeles when I was here, but the rest I actually did by myself. I had my
primary camera, I had my drone, and then I had a GoPro, which I did time-lapses
from empty daytime to evening. Between those three, it gave me enough to cut
together, but I usually got to each drive-in in the afternoons, you would start
maybe at three in the afternoon, capturing all their preparation, and then stay
until late, usually two in the morning. It was basically almost twelve hours of
footage for each one, because I would just get there and be shooting non-stop.
Then the logical way to put it together, I thought it might be by subject, but
once I looked at it, I realized, no, it’s got to be chronological. Just one big
arc of the afternoon, the prep, and then opening the doors, and then the snack
bar, and then getting the movie on screen, and then the breather once all that’s
done became the way to tell it.
TG: I miss the aura and aroma of the
theaters I went to as a child.
AW: Yes, it’s true. Movie theater smell.
When I go to old theaters, too, a lot of times you walk into them and your
reaction is, “Oh, there’s a good old movie theater smell.” Also in the projection
rooms, if they’re where they have all that old equipment, that’s a certain
smell because the film and the oil and all that had a smell, too. That’s almost
gone now because they had to convert them to clean rooms for the digital
projection. You must have a climate-controlled, very fancy environment for
those. A lot of the drive-ins still have both projectors.
TG: Do you have an all-time favorite movie?
AW: Rocky.
TG: Did you see it in the movies when it
first came out?
AW: I did. Even though I was a little kid,
my mom saw it and she wanted to take us to see Rocky. That’s probably
part of it. Also, I realized after I’ve been a filmmaker for a little while,
some of the things I like or I’m drawn to – and Carrie falls into this,
for sure – is that I really like underdogs and people who shouldn’t win but
somehow do. That’s a theme in the films that I like. For Rocky,
obviously, that is one of the best underdog stories. It’s not even the message
of winning. It’s just going the distance, of course. The story of making it is
an underdog story, too. The fact that Stallone can be a semi-nobody struggling
actor and come up with this and write it and create such an iconic character
that lives on is inspiring as well. I love that movie. It is my all-time
favorite. If you want to talk horror, my all-time favorite is Carrie.
TG: I was sorry to see your film end
because I just wanted to see so many other people talking. I’m sure you’ve
probably seen The Last Blockbuster,
the film about, literally, the last Blockbuster Video, which is in Bend,
Oregon. In some ways, your movie reminds me of that film because I say, yes,
there are no more video stores to go to. I want to thank you so much for taking
the time to speak with me.
AW: Thank you very much. I’m glad you
liked the movie!
Back to the Drive-In can
now be seen streaming on iTunes, Amazon Prime, Google Play, and Vudu.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release:
25 August 2022
Today, Pinewood Studios have announced that a new sound
stage will be named in honour of the late Sir Sean Connery on what would have
been the Academy Award-winning actor’s 92nd birthday. Officially named, The Sean
Connery Stage, the 18,000 square foot purpose-built sound stage is one of five
new stages opening on the Pinewood Studios lot. Recognised as one of the most
influential and successful actors of his generation, Sean Connery was the first
actor to portray James Bond on the big screen in EON Productions’ Dr No, shot
at Pinewood Studios in 1962. The film was produced by Albert R ‘Cubby’ Broccoli
and Harry Saltzman (EON Productions), directed by Terence Young on Pinewood
Studios’ original A, B, C and D stages and on location in Jamaica. Following
the phenomenal success of Dr. No, Connery starred in a further five James Bond
films produced by EON Productions and shot at Pinewood Studios; From Russia
With Love (1963), Goldfinger (1964), Thunderball (1965), You Only Live Twice
(1967) and Diamonds Are Forever (1971). Connery’s interpretation of the role
helped establish the foundation for the success of the James Bond series which
celebrates its 60thAnniversary this year. Connery’s history with Pinewood and
Shepperton Studios extends beyond the James Bond films returning numerous times
between 1957 and 1999. First passing through the gates of Pinewood Studios for
Hell Drivers (1957), other titles from his extensive filmography include On the
Fiddle (1961) at Shepperton, Woman of Straw (1964) at Pinewood, The Russia
House (1990) Pinewood, Robin Hood – Prince of Thieves (1991) Shepperton, First
Knight (1995) Pinewood and Entrapment (1999) at both Pinewood and Shepperton.
On behalf of the Connery family, Stephane and Jason
Connery commented: “Our family consider it a great honor to have a stage named
after Sean. It is fitting considering the amount of time Sean spent at Pinewood
and we know that he would have been very touched by this privilege.”
Pinewood Group Chairman,
Paul Golding said: “We are delighted to announce that one of our five new sound
stages at Pinewood Studios will be named, ‘The Sean Connery Stage’. The revered
actor, and original James Bond, had a life-long connection with both Pinewood
and Shepperton Studios. It is fitting that the naming ceremony will take place
in 2022, the 60th anniversary year of the James Bond films. ”Connery’s extensive
services to the film industry have been reflected in the many Awards he
received over his illustrious career, including an Academy Award, two BAFTA
Awards (including the BAFTA Fellowship), three Golden Globes, including the
Cecil B. DeMille Award. In 1987, he was made a Commander of the Order of Arts
and Letters in France and in 1991 he received the Freedom of the City honour by
the City of Edinburgh. In the United States, Connery received The US Kennedy
Center Honors lifetime achievement award in 1999 and the American Film
Institute’s prestigious Life Achievement Award.Connery was knighted in the 2000
New Year Honours for services to film drama.
My introduction into the world of the late horror film director Wes
Craven’s films came in October 1977 when I began seeing ads in my local
newspaper for his film The Hills Have Eyes. The image of actor Michael
Berryman as Jupiter, with his bald head and serious grin, I will not lie,
freaked me out. Twenty-one years later I would meet him at a horror film
convention, and he could not have been nicer – but that is beside the point! I did
not know what the movie was about, but it sported an R-rating, and it did not
look like anything that I could ever sit through at the age of nine. I would
later learn that I was correct. I finally caught up with Hills in the
summer of 1984 on a television broadcast, three years into my newfound love of
horror films. I found it to be fairly terrifying, even during an afternoon viewing.
Around the same time, I obtained Mr. Craven’s lesser-known film, Deadly Blessing
(1981), which also featured Mr. Berryman, on CED, which
takes place in the Amish Country. It is more of a supernatural film, but I
enjoyed it just the same.
Everything changed when, in early November 1984, I saw the television
trailer for Mr. Craven’s new film, A Nightmare on Elm Street, which
introduced audiences to the world of Fred Krueger. I was curious and
enthralled, and my mind began working on how I could get my parents to agree to
allow me to see it. A local theater was showing it with the PG-rated A
Soldier’s Story on the other screen. I lied and said that I needed to
review A Soldier’s Story for my English class as we were reading the
stage play upon which it was based. My friend and I saw Elm Street on my
sixteenth birthday. When we left the theater after the film was done, I was
over the moon. The original Elm Street was and still is the best horror
film I have ever seen in a theater, though I was clueless that it would begin a
franchise that I would grow to like less and less as time went on. When my
parents asked me what A Soldier’s Story was about, all I could muster
what that it was a story about a soldier. I think they had their suspicions…
When I saw Mr. Craven’s latest film at the time, Scream (originally
titled Scary Movie), on opening night on Friday, December 20, 1996, it
did not feel like anything that he had directed before. The terror and
brutality that permeates much of Hills and even portions of Elm
Street are absent. There is graphic gore in Scream, but the whole
affair looks closer to an episode of The O.C. than a horror film as the
California high school setting looks a little too clean and shiny. Drew Barrymore
plays Casey, a babysitter, at the film’s start in a similar way that opens Fred
Walton’s 1979 thriller When a Stranger Calls. She fields calls from a
psycho who taunts her, asking her what her favorite scary movie is, etc. The
calls become more verbal and horrible. Casey is killed after the first thirteen
minutes in a clear nod to Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, although Janet Leigh’s
scream time (sorry) in that film was much longer.
The real protagonist of Scream is Sidney (Neve Campbell),
the virginal high school girl whose boyfriend Billy (Skeet Ulrich) is predictably
pressuring her for sex. We discover that her mother was killed a year ago and
her father travels for business. Sidney is pretty much left to fend for herself.
As though her problems were not bad enough, she is now subjected to the same
calls that plagued Casey. A cloaked figure wearing a contorted ghost mask makes
his way into her home and a fight ensues, with her boyfriend Billy coming to
the rescue. His timing arouses suspicion in both the audience and Sidney, and
his possessing a cell phone at a time when they were not everywhere as they are
today is even more cause for alarm. The police bring him in for questioning but
they have no tangible proof of any guilt. While all of this is going on, a
television newscaster (Courtney Cox) is anxious to get the story of her career
and stops at nothing to glean information from Sidney or even seduce the local
goofball cop (David Arquette) who is never taken seriously. She uses her charms
to infiltrate a party comprised of teenagers who are all suspect; she places a
hidden camera to record their gathering. The camera is nondescript, and it made
me wonder what 1996 technology would be small enough to go unnoticed. How does
it even work? How is it powered? From the looks of it, it is wireless, though
this raises more questions than it answers. Probably best to not make too much
of it in a film that clearly does not take itself seriously.
One of the issues that I have with the film is its failure to make
up its mind as to what kind of a film it is intended to be: a parody or an
actual slasher film? It never really succeeds at either, because it is not
funny enough to be a parody, nor is it even scary enough to be considered a
true slasher film. Henry Winkler plays the high school principal. He is
summarily displaced as a request from producer Bob Shaye, who wanted an
additional kill in the story, but not before encountering a janitor named Fred
in a green and black sweater, played by Mr. Craven, in an eye-rolling cameo,
clearly saluting the “hero†of his better film.
The screenplay also gets into a little too much social commentary wherein
the high schoolers talk about how movies do not make killers, etc. By the time
the true killer’s identity is revealed, I was honestly glad that the film was
over, as I found it more irritating than anything else.
Scream was written by Kevin Williamson who is best known for the teen
drama Dawson's Creek, and it shows – the film has a polished look that,
I feel, works to its detriment – Hills (shot on 16mm and blown up to
35mm) and Elm Street (shot on 35mm) both have their own signature visual
styles that work very well. He also penned a short-lived and (unfairly) panned television
series in 2007 called Hidden Palms, which featured a twenty-year-old Amber
Heard as Gretchen, a troubled teen whose boyfriend reportedly committed suicide,
with rumors about aspects of his death arising afterward. That show only lasted
two months, but an air of mystery permeated each episode. Mr. Williamson has
employed sexual promiscuity in much of his work and the results never seem to
be worth the trouble that the characters endure.
I take no pleasure in saying anything
negative about Scream, as I possess a genuine affinity for Mr. Craven’s
work. Scream feels like a Hollywood mainscream film (I know, sorry!),
however the another issue that I have with it probably is not even
an issue at all. It is just a pet peeve of mine: when it comes to slasher
films, beginning with Halloween (the 1978 John Carpenter film and Mr.
Williamson’s favorite movie, one that figures prominently in Scream),
there has been sort of a misunderstanding, in my humble opinion, among hardcore
fans regarding the notion of the reputed “Last Girl†being a virgin and
therefore making it through to the end while the promiscuous “Bad Girls†are
killed. The unspoken notion is that being a virgin is what manages to keep
these surviving girls safe from being killed. In Halloween, Jamie Lee
Curtis's character, Laurie, makes it not because she is a virgin, but because
she actually pays attention to what is going on around her. Her friends
Linda and Annie are so busy being distracted by their boyfriends and their
sexual shenanigans that they have no idea what is really going on and are
oblivious to the presence of the killer, Michael Myers. The way that this motif
is displayed historically from everything following Sean Cunningham’s Friday
the 13th(1980) up to Scream is quizzical, and I often
wonder if we are meant to identify with the teenage characters because we are
seeing it through their eyes. They seem to be interpreting the “Final Girl†as making
it simply because she is a virgin.
Mr. Craven has made plenty of other
films throughout his career that have nothing to do with Elm Street’s
Fred Krueger, among them his debut film The Last House on the Left (1972)
of which I am not a fan; the Linda Blair TV-movie Stranger in Our
House/Summer of Fear (his first 35mm film); Swamp Thing (1981); the oddball Kristy Swanson vehicle Deadly Friend
(1986); The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988); Shocker (1989); and
the bizarre The People Under the Stairs (1991), all horror films that deal
with different subjects. Despite what most people may feel about Scream,
it was a highly successful and well-received film that also paved the way for not
only sequels, but also a remake scheduled for release in early 2022. Scream
also revived the slasher film, a genre that for years languished in the mediocre
made-for-video sections of video stores all across the country. For that, I am
grateful, as some true classics of the genre have been made in the years since.
Scream is now available on a Paramount 4K Ultra High-Definition Blu-ray and
the results are spectacular. The disc has some interesting extras, which
consist of:
A feature-length audio commentary with
Wes Craven and Kevin Williamson that was more than likely recorded for the
original DVD release. It is a fun listen, though most of it entails them
commenting on the onscream action (damn, sorry again! These puns write
themselves!) than delving into the behind-the-scenes facts to any great extent.
A Bloody Legacy: SCREAM 25 Years Later – This is just over seven minutes and is more of a
promotional piece for the 2022 release of the new Scream film directed
by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett
Production Featurette – This runs just over six minutes and is exactly what it
sounds like.
Behind the Scenes has two small parts: a three-and-a-half-minute piece of BTS
footage, while another runs just under three minutes and focuses on Drew
Barrymore’s work on the film.
Q & A with Cast and Crew – Two short parts, the first being What’s Your Favorite Scary
Movie?, which most people interviewed do not reveal, they sort of just list
movies that scared them. I was grateful that one woman mentioned Burnt
Offerings, which is the first thriller that I saw and made me become
interested in horror films. This part runs just under three minutes. The second
portion, Why Are People So Fascinated by Horror Films?, runs about
two-and-a-half-minutes, and they all echo similar notions about living through
fear vicariously. Neve Campbell reveals the dark side in all of us and letting
it out in a movie. Look fast for Linda Blair early on as a
television reporter.
The release also includes a digital code for streaming the film.
Scream is, of course, not to be confused with the film of the same
name from 1981, written and directed by Byron Quisenberry, which was widely
panned by pretty much everyone who saw it.
Director
William Friedkin’s The French Connection, which won Oscars for Best
Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Editing
at the 1972 Academy Awards ceremony, celebrates its 50th Anniversary
today as it opened in New York City on Thursday, October 7, 1971. On Saturday,
October 7, 1961, exactly ten years earlier to the day, both New York Detective
First Grade Edward Egan and his partner, then Detective Second Grade Salvatore
Grosso, unwittingly stumbled upon what is described in author Robin Moore’s
1969 account of the case as one that would “obsess them night and day for the
next four-and-a-half months and would not end for a year-and-a-half.â€
New York
Gene
Hackman portrayed Mr. Egan and Roy Scheider co-starred as Mr. Grosso, referring
to each other by the sobriquets “Popeye†and “Cloudyâ€, respectively. Acclaimed
by critics and audiences alike for its gritty realism, its cat-and-mouse chase
between Popeye and the mastermind behind the imported heroin (played by
Fernando Rey), the film is best-known for its gripping and inexorable chase
between a 1971 Pontiac LeMans and a subway train.
The
film later opened in Los Angeles on November 3rd in Los Angeles and
on November 17th in Central Jersey.
New Jersey
Issue
#50 of Cinema Retro features this writer’s interviews with William Friedkin,
actor Tony Lo Bianco, and former New York Police Detective Randy Jurgensen who
worked on the actual case. Copies are available at CinemaRetro.com.
I turned age three one month prior to the January 1965
U.S. release of Roger Corman’s The Tomb
of Ligeia (American-International, 1964).The film had been first released in England in November 1964 - which was
only fair - since both The Tomb of Ligeia
and its predecessor The Masque of the Red
Death (also 1964) had been shot at Shepperton Studios and in the
neighboring English countryside. I’m guessing that I only became acquainted
with Corman’s octet of Poe adaptations when the films were televised on New
York City’s 4:30 Movie in the
mid-1970s.
I didn’t know quite what to make of the AIP Poe films at
first.These were horror films without
monsters and, at age fifteen, I had no particular interest in - or
understanding of - “psychological horror†pictures… I wanted rubber-suit
monsters sporting grotesque make-up appliances and causing small-town mayhem.I wasn’t yet old enough to understand the paralyzing
torment and terrors suffered by those with tortured souls.That is until I reached my mid-20s and
discovered, unhappily, I myself was afflicted with one.
The
Tomb of Ligeia was the eighth and last film that would
comprise Corman’s famed “Poe cycle,†a series (of sorts) that launched with the
moody House of Usher (1960).In his entertaining memoir, How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and
Never Lost a Dime (Random House, 1990), the filmmaker shared with candor
that while he was pleased he had made “several very good-looking,
psychologically effective horror pictures†from 1960 through 1964, he admitted
that by cycle’s end, “I was repeating myself, taking ideas, images, themes, and
techniques from my earlier work.â€
I would say in defense there was no discernible slippage
of quality present in The Tomb of Ligeia.Both Robert Townes literate screenplay and
Corman’s direction are well crafted. In fact, I’ve long considered Corman’s House of Usher, The Premature Burial, The
Masque of the Red Death and The Tomb
of Ligeia as art-house horror films of a sort.The gold standard.
Or, perhaps, The Gold
Bug standard, if one is to remain true to the Poe terminologies.According to reports of January of 1964,
Poe’s The Gold Bug was actually scheduled
as A.I.P.’s immediate follow-up to The
Masque of the Red Death.In his biography
of Peter Lorre, author Stephen D. Youngkin suggests that previous Corman scribe
Charles B. Griffith (Bucket of Blood,
Little Shop of Horrors) had worked on
script for The Gold Bug, a romp that
was to re-team Price, Basil Rathbone and Lorre, recent stars of AIP’s The Comedy of Terrors (1963).Griffith’s version of The Gold Bug was reportedly sketched as a horror-comedy in the vein
of that earlier film.His script was -
presumably - scrubbed when Lorre passed away in March of 1964.
In any event, I now consider several films in the Poe
cycle among my favorite horror efforts.Thanks to 35mm revival screenings in the 1980s at New York City’s
repertory theaters and at retro all-night drive-in monster movie weekends, I’ve
been able to enjoy these classics in genuine Colorscope as originally designed.I’ve also had the wonderful opportunity to
enjoy a pair of relatively recent screenings of The Tomb of Ligeia in the company of two of the film’s high-profile
participants.In August of 2015 Roger
Corman and actress Elizabeth Shepherd (Lady
Rowena Trevanion) participated in a screening and Q & A at the
Anthology Film Archives on Manhattan’s Lower East Side.In 2019 I caught still another 35mm
screening, this time with Elizabeth Shepherd attending alone and sharing more expansive
memories of working with both Corman and her notable co-star and boogeyman
Vincent Price.So it’s impossible for me
to separate my admiration for The Tomb of
Ligeia from such personal memories.
One of the nicest aspects of this Kino Lorber Studio
Classics Blu-ray edition of The Tomb of
Ligeia is that if you weren’t geographically fortunate enough to attend any
of these retrospective 35mm screening events, you now have the opportunity to
listen to Corman and Shepherd share their on-the-set memories on two of this
package’s generous trio of audio commentaries.The third commentary is provided by film historian Tim Lucas who
provides all the nuts and bolts factoids we cinema history train spotters require.With three distinct voices sharing the
commentary tracks, there’s a lot of material and viewpoints and memories to
wade through.
As was so often the case, Corman’s cinematic adaptations
of Poe were not terribly faithful to the original source materials.Instead we are treated to more visual
reimagining’s of the gloomy author’s classic short stories. Corman and a team
of screenwriters (including Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont, both of Twilight Zone fame) had constructed new tales
only partly drawn from Poe’s characters and grotesque plot lines.
As Poe’s horrors were psychologically driven and introspective
in presentation, it was necessary for Corman and his team to inject more cinematic
visual tropes.This was accomplished by
introducing completely new scenarios and mixing in original and intriguing subplots.In Corman’s “serious†offerings of the Poe
cycle, the birthing author’s gloomy atmospheres, the dreary broodings on
mortality, the wearisome toll of mental anguish (and subsequent psychic breakdowns)
all remain faithful in tone to the spirit of his visions.
The screenplay of The
Tomb of Ligeia was scribed by the actor-writer Robert Towne.Towne already boasted a screenwriting credit
on The Last Man on Earth (1960) as
well as playing multiple on-screen roles in Corman’s Creature from the Haunted Sea (1961). Towne, who would go on to be feted with no
fewer than four Oscar nominations for his writing (most notably for Chinatwon), serves up a literate
screenplay that comes complete with the moody, erudite - and occasionally
archaic dialogue - that one comes to expect from this series.His work on the script stands alongside the
best Poe adaptations of Matheson and Beaumont.
The film version of The
Tomb of Ligeia concerns the curious and eccentric manner of which Vernon
Fell ((Vincent Price) conducts himself following the passing of his wife
Ligeia.Fell is obsessed, nay
terrorized, by the notion that his late wife is not quite dead in the usual sense of the word.He’s convinced that his wife’s disturbed
spirit – she was, after all, an unrepentant atheist who dabbled in spiritualism
– is now reincarnated in the form of a menacing black cat that prowls along the
premises of the dilapidated ruins of an abbey he calls home.The somber and haunted Fell finds new romance
with Lady Rowena (Shepherd), an already betrothed woman who happens upon his
property when she’s thrown from her horse during a spirited fox hunt.Rowena eventually marries Fell only to find
herself guarding against her new husband’s odd behaviors - and a malevolent black
cat who appears to willfully cause her torment.
Towne’s story takes many liberties with Poe’s original
short story, simply titled Ligeia, and
first published in Baltimore’s American
Museum periodical in September 1838.The most significant of these changes is that there’s no black cat
present in Poe’s version - and Rowena dies nine pages into the twelve-page tale.But since Poe tends to tell his tales as either
a detached narrator or in a “first person†internal dialogue of madness,
Corman’s cinematic vehicle needed a flesh and blood protagonist – even if the one
chosen for the film is adorned only in a coat of black fur – to make any menace
visually tangible.There’s a not too
subtle revelation of necrophilia and a more overt sequence of mesmerism
sprinkled in as well.It was obvious
that Towne, much like his predecessors, were mining a wide swath of Poe’s oeuvre
in a desire to enliven and expand the author’s short story for a film of
feature-length running time.
Filmmaker
Stanley Donen had substantial success with his comedy-thriller, Charade
(1963), which starred Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. It was hyped and critiqued
as “Hitchcockian†in tone and style, especially the light-hearted and glitzy To
Catch a Thief (1955). (There are many who mistakenly believe that Charade
is a Hitchcock film.)
The
studio then wanted to repeat that success with a similar picture, Arabesque,
also with Cary Grant in the lead role with Donen directing again. However,
Grant felt that the script was “terrible†and passed. Donen allegedly wasn’t
too thrilled with the script, either, and he wasn’t too keen on making the
picture without Grant.
Then
Gregory Peck and Sophia Loren expressed interest in the movie, so Donen
acquiesced. Sounds like a fairy tale scenario for the greenlighting of a
Hollywood movie, right? The two Oscar-winning stars were cast, and the script
was rewritten… and rewritten… (it is credited to Julian Mitchell, Stanley
Price, and Pierre Marton; however, Marton is a pseudonym for Peter Stone, who
had written Charade!).
Released
in 1966, Arabesque has all the hallmarks of a hit movie. It is
beautifully photographed by Christopher Challis, with colorful usage of mirrors
and prisms and glass throughout the picture. These visuals provide the film
with its spectacular glossy eye candy. Ms. Loren’s costumes (by Christian Dior)
are psychedelic/exotic/1960s fabulous. Henry Mancini’s musical score is fun and
lively—except for the examples cited below. Maurice Binder’s main titles design
hints at something leaning toward a James Bond or Derek Flint film.
These
are the only admirable aspects of the picture.
Both
Charade and Arabesque, when one examines them closely, are really
screwball comedies set in a spy/thriller milieu. The success of a screwball
comedy depends on the comic timing and charisma of the two “mismatched†leads—this
is the core ingredient of the sub-genre. Cary Grant can do these kinds of roles
in his sleep. And this is where the problem lies.
Gregory
Peck is a wonderful actor, but unfortunately here he is terribly miscast. It’s obvious
that he’s trying to “do†Cary Grant (without the accent), and it simply
does not work. The dialogue—meant to be witty banter in the Cary Grant
mold—does not flow elegantly from Peck. Sophia Loren, while looking gorgeous
and mysterious throughout the story, fares little better with what the poor
script has her do.
And
the script? It makes no sense. Peck is David Pollock, an American professor at
Oxford who knows something about Hieroglyphics. He’s “hired†by sleazy Arabic
shipping magnate Beshraavi (Alan Badel) to decipher a code in Hieroglyphics
that he has stolen from a murdered spy. The prime minister of an unnamed Middle
Eastern country, Jena (Carl Duering), also wants the code deciphered, because
“there will be no peace in the world without it.†What? It’s unclear what
conflict we’re talking about or what the situation really is. Pollock meets
Beshraavi’s mistress, Yasmin Azir (Loren), who is working for another group of
spies—maybe—or maybe she’s working for Jena—it’s not really clear—in fact, we
don’t know what Yasmin’s motivation is for any of her actions in the film.
Suddenly, Pollock is on the run as several factions of Arabs and others are out
to kill him. Sometimes Yasmin helps him, sometimes she doesn’t. But, of course,
they fall in love, and they prevent a political assassination in the meantime.
Okay,
it’s a beautiful mess, but it’s still a mess. Even the misplaced slapstick
sequences are dumb—and Mancini’s comic music that underscores some of these scenes
is cringe-worthy (one example—when a drugged Pollock is standing in the road of
a crowded freeway and playing “matador†to oncoming vehicles).
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray release looks quite gorgeous, showing off the colorful
glitz that is the primary asset of Arabesque. It comes with an audio
commentary by film historians Howard S. Berger, Steve Mitchell, and Nathaniel
Thompson, who all seem to enjoy the picture more than this reviewer did and yet
point out all the same faults. A lovely half-hour featurette on Mancini is a
welcome supplement. There is also a poster gallery (note the cover/poster art
by the great Robert McGinnis), TV spots, the theatrical trailer and teaser, and
trailers for other Kino Lorber releases.
Arabesque
is a
product of its mid-1960s origin, for sure, as it wants to be both Charade and
a James Bond film. It is neither, but it might be a curiosity for fans of 1960s
Hollywood spy movies and pristine cinematography.
“GOIN’
TO TOWN†(1935;
Directed by Alexander Hall)
“KLONDIKE
ANNIE†(1936;
Directed by Raoul Walsh)
“GO
WEST, YOUNG MAN†(1936;
Directed by Henry Hathaway)
“EVERY
DAY’S A HOLIDAY†(1937;
Directed by A. Edward Sutherland)
“MY
LITTLE CHICKADEE†(1940;
Directed by Edward F. Cline)
(Kino
Lorber)
“GOODNESS
HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT—THE MAE WEST FILMS, PART TWOâ€
By
Raymond Benson
This
is the continuation of reviews of the classic 1930s (and 1940) films of Mae
West, which began here.
Kino
Lorber has just released in gorgeously restored, high-definition presentations
every Mae West film made between 1932-1940—the Paramount years, plus one with
Universal. This review will cover the last five of nine titles.
What
is not commonly appreciated among Hollywood enthusiasts is that Mae West held a
unique position in the history of cinema. Until the modern era, she had the
extraordinary fortune—for her time—of being a leading actress who wrote her
own screenplays. Six of the nine pictures reviewed here and in Part One were
written by West, one was co-written, and all but the first was based on or
adapted from West’s plays or stories. It wasn’t until the likes of Tina Fey,
Kristen Wiig, Angelina Jolie, and a finite number of other actresses appeared
on the scene to write original scripts for themselves that Hollywood allotted
that kind of opportunity to a female performer. West was doing it in the 1930s,
and this was unprecedented. Her talent and wit deserve a renewed appreciation
today.
Goin’
to Town (1935)
takes place at the turn of the century when automobiles are appearing but there
are still horses and buggies. It’s a globe-hopping affair that begins in what
appears to be the Wild West as Cleo Borden (West) is a cattle rancher who
juggles men on the way to fulfill her desire to refine her manners and join
high society. Although her designs are really aimed at British engineer Edward
Carrington (Paul Cavanaugh), she marries
Fletcher Colton (Monroe Owsley) for convenience, but he’s an obsessive gambler.
In Buenos Aires, Cleo faces off with rival Grace Brittony (Marjorie Gateson).
As a recurring theme to this and other West vehicles, the actress sings “He’s a
Bad, Bad Man, but He’s Good Enough for Meâ€! Goin’ to Town is
entertaining enough—it’s better than the previous Belle of the Nineties,
but the picture lacks interesting co-stars for West. The Blu-ray comes with an
audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, plus the theatrical trailer.
Klondike
Annie (1936)
is overseen by solid filmmaker Raoul Walsh, and it shows. It is perhaps the
best of West’s post-Code pictures, despite its embarrassingly offensive take on
Asian characters, which was standard operating procedure in Hollywood for the
time. It’s the 1890s again (why do so many of West’s films take place in that
decade?). Rose Carlton (West) is a “kept woman†in San Francisco’s Chinatown by
cruel club owner Chan Lo (Harold Huber, not an Asian actor). Rose ends up
killing Lo and escapes on a ship to Alaska, the captain of which is Bull Brackett
(the fabulous Victor McLaglen). Rose disguises herself and impersonates the
deceased Sister Annie Alden, a missionary who was on her way to Nome to head up
the only establishment of worship in an otherwise rough Gold Rush town. Bull
falls hard for “Annie,†and she likes him, too, but she also has eyes for
Mountie-like inspector Jack Forrest (Phillip Reed), who is looking for Rose
because she’s now wanted for murder. Klondike Annie went through major
Hays Office interference and in fact two major scenes were deleted from the
film—the murder of Lo (we now only hear about what happened in conversation
later), and the sequence in which Rose dons Annie’s clothing and dresses the
former sister in the garb of a streetwalker (the censors seriously objected to
this on puritanical grounds!). Nevertheless, Klondike is lively, rather
suspenseful, and features the most exotic of settings for a Mae West movie. The
disk comes with an audio commentary by film historians Alexandra
Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson, plus the theatrical trailer.
Go
West, Young Man (also
1936) was helmed by accomplished director Henry Hathaway, and it fares well for
West and her filmography. West is controversial movie star Mavis Arden, who has
a penchant to get in trouble. Thus, her studio has assigned press agent Morgan
(Warren William, who was known as the “king of pre-Code,†but he was apparently
still working post-Code) to keep an eye on Mavis and stop her from dalliances
with men. On the way to a public appearance, their car breaks down in a hick
town where Mavis and Morgan must stay at a boarding house run by a prudish
woman (Alice Brady) and her more open-minded aunt (Elizabeth Patterson). The
problem is that hunky Bud Norton (Randolph Scott) runs the gas station next
door to the boarding house! It’s another enjoyable West romp that is more of a
screwball comedy than any of her other pictures. The disk comes with an audio
commentary by author/film historian Lee Gambin, plus the theatrical trailer.
Every
Day’s a Holiday (1937)
was the last picture West made for Paramount, after which her contract was
cancelled. She, along with many other actresses such as Katharine Hepburn,
Marlene Dietrich, and even Bette Davis, were deemed at the time by the
Hollywood press as “box office poison†(which was nonsense, of course). It’s
too bad, for Holiday is one of the funnier titles in the West canon,
mainly due to character actor co-stars Charles Butterworth (as Graves, a butler
who is sweet on West’s character, Peaches O’Day), Charles Winninger (as Van
Doon, an outrageous millionaire who also has the hots for Peaches), and
bumbling Walter Catlett (as Nifty, Peaches’ manager). Peaches, who has a habit
of “selling†the Brooklyn Bridge to numbskulls, has her eyes on police
captain McCarey (Edmund Lowe), whose rival is the police chief Quade (Lloyd
Nolan). Peaches, wanted by the law, “disguises†herself by donning a black
wig—and of course no one recognizes her as Peaches anymore (!). Quade, once pursuing
Peaches to arrest her, is now after “Fifi†to woo her. Fun stuff all around. Look
for Louis Armstrong’s cameo leading a marching band and performing a song. The
disk comes with an audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, plus the
theatrical trailer.
Hollywood has mined gold from films relating to the American Civil War. Generally, however, the opposite has been true of movie relating to the American Revolution. Relatively few have been made and those that were often proved to be boxoffice failures, none more so than director Hugh Hudson's expensive 1985 epic "Revolution", which was savagely attacked by critics and disappeared from theaters quickly due to audience disinterest, However, Hudson would later issue a DVD version of the movie with significant changes. As we argued at the time, the film may not be a classic but it has plenty of merits and it deserves to be re-evaluated. Click here to to read our original review.
Released
in 1971, ‘Red Sun’ is an enthralling Western starring Charles Bronson, Toshiro
Mifune, Alain Delon and Ursula Andress. Bronson and Delon lead a group of
bandits to rob a train, but get more than they bargained for as they discover
the train is transporting a Japanese delegation featuring Mifune, who is
guarding a priceless ceremonial sword, a gift from the Emperor of Japan meant
for the President of the United States. Delon steals the sword and leaves
co-conspirator Bronson for dead. Mifune and Bronson team up to make an unlikely
alliance in search of Delon and the stolen sword.
“For
the disgrace of failure, he will rip his abdomen and kill himself†roars the
Japanese ambassador as he tries to solder Link (Bronson) and Kuroda Jubei
(Mifune) into the unlikeliest good cop/bad cop routine you’re ever likely to
witness. “Well, that’s something I’d like to see!†retorts the eagled eyed,
moustached loner Link, who moments earlier had been left for dead after the
left-handed gun Gauche (Delon) fancied a bigger share of the riches from the
robbery.‘Red Sun’ may display many of
the conventional Western characteristics – robbery goes wrong and a manhunt
ensues – but its international flavour is unlike any other film of this genre
that’s been put on screen to date.
It’s
very rare that the co-lead of an American Western is a stoic Japanese sword and
sandal figure, but the very fact that Bronson and Mifune should appear on
screen together at all has more meaning than the average cinephile might think.
Mifune appeared in the 1954 classic ‘Seven Samurai’, directed by Akira Kurosawa
– and Bronson appeared in the Western remake ‘The Magnificent Seven’ directed
by John Sturges, who had recently enjoyed success with genre hits ‘Gunfight at
the O.K. Corral’, ‘The Law and Jake Wade’ and ‘Last Train from Gun Hill’. Both
Bronson and Mifune played their parts in two of the most influential films of
the era, so the fact that they appeared on screen together is significant. ‘Red
Sun’ is a totally original story that might have seemed too bizarre to succeed,
but given the two leads’ history, it’s a perfect film to showcase their
combined talents.
Director
Terence Young captures with ease the hostile and unforgiving landscape of the
tactile terrain (filmed in AndalucÃa, Spain), as Maurice Jarre’s musical score
transports you into the picture. Throughout Young’s filmography, ranging from
the early Bond films to his transition to Hollywood working with commanding
lead actors like Henry Fonda, Anthony Quinn and Lee Marvin, he gives
lower-budget B movies gravitas. (He had collaborated with Charles Bronson a few
years earlier on ‘The Valachi Papers’.) The plot of ‘Red Sun’ feels
deliberately engineered for Bronson and Mifune and has something of a fantasy
cast list. However, it never feels detached from reality and the resulting
consequences of the characters’ actions feel meaningful, even though on the
printed page, the scenarios might have appeared to be ludicrous.
Link
and Jubei are chalk and cheese; Bronson is witty and Mifune is much more
strait- laced, amusingly so when trying to comprehend the comedic dialogue just
served to him on a plate by Bronson. The most memorable scenes of film occur
when Link and Jubei are reluctantly travelling together in search of the
Japanese ambassador’s ceremonial sword as they squabble like children and
engage in some comedic faux fighting. Bronson’s character Link accompanies Jubei
to retrieve the ceremonial sword with his own agenda in mind. After being left
for dead by Gauche (Delon) and his men, Link aims to find his share of the
train robbery proceeds, but in order to do that he needs to find Gauche and
take him alive.However, Jubei wants him
dead due to the dishonour and trouble he’s caused. All of this reaches a
boiling point in the film’s final act. If you know your Bronson movies, you
know it’s never a good idea to leave him for dead…it’s just not going to end
well for the antagonist.
Legendary
director and actor John Huston claimed that ‘Red Sun’ was among the three best
Westerns ever made, alongside 1948’s ‘Red River’ and John Ford’s ‘Stagecoach’.
Huston certainly has an interesting take. Would ‘Red Sun’ finish anywhere my
own personal list of the top 10 Westerns ever made, let alone top three? No. I
enjoy the film very much and find it particularly re-watchable, as there’s
simply nothing else like it. Huston’s choice of placing ‘Red Sun’ on such a
high pedestal isn’t completel unworthy, however. It’s an inclusive Western,
well-loved in the genre’s fandom, but its appeal outside of that isn’t
extensive.
The
three main players involved in the project – Young, Bronson and Mifune – had
already produced their best work inside their respective filmographies. That
being said, ‘Red Sun’ still has a unique appeal over 50 years after its
theatrical release. Bronson has the same low-key magnetism that he displays in
mostl of his films whilst Mifune is suitably memorable as a samurai who finds
himself in the Old West.All the more
impressive about his performance is the fact that ‘Red Sun’ was his first
feature film role in the English language. (Where he has dialogue, at any
rate.) As for the rest of the main cast, Ursula Andress is commanding as
Cristina in what is the only main female character in the film. Although
Andress receives second billing, she doesn’t appear until an hour into the
film. That being said, Andress is worth the wait. She displays a certain
exterior swagger that is reminiscent of her breakout role as Honey Ryder in
‘Dr. No’ more than a decade previous. Alain Delon is every inch the perfect
villain as Gauche in his black attire, a dress code that could be compared with
that of Henry Fonda in ‘Once Upon a Time in the West’ or Jack Palance in
‘Shane’. Delon is just as likely to shoot someone down with his menacing blue
eyes as he is with his pistol, as he’s an outlaw with no ethical compass.
‘Red
Sun’ is the pinnacle of the Eastern/Western crossover and has to be seen to be
believed.
Released in 1972, The Valachi Papers depicts the rise and
fall of Mafia informant Joseph Valachi, who became the first member of the
Mafia (otherwise known as Cosa Nostra) to acknowledge its existence in public.
Directed by Terence Young (Dr. No, From Russia with Love, Thunderball) and produced by legendary
Italian film producer Dino De Laurentiis The
Valachi Papers stars Charles Bronson in the lead role, alongside his
real-life wife Jill Ireland as well as Lino Ventura, Walter Chiari and Joseph
Wiseman.
The film covers five
decades of Valachi’s involvement in organised crime – from his burglaries with
the Minutemen to working under mob boss Vito Genovese from the 1930s – as the
film unceremoniously portrays life in the criminal underworld. Told from the
perspective of Valachi, the film begins with the ageing gangster in prison
fearing for his life after a contract for his killing is ordered by Don Vito
Genovese (Lino Ventura), who suspects him of betraying the Family. Determined
not to be silenced behind bars and avoid an inside hit, Valachi co-operates
with the U.S. Justice Department – unveiling the secrets of life in the Mafia
as the film follows Bronson’s on-screen Joe Valachi through voice-over and
flashback sequences.
The film is based on the
biographical book of the same name, written by Peter Maas in 1968. Nearly five
decades after the movie’s release, it’s difficult to truly comprehend the anticipation
surrounding a Hollywood picture based on Joseph Valachi’s tell-all testimony to
the FBI that was televised across the United States in 1963. Never before had
the public, or indeed the FBI, really been aware of the true extent to which
organised crime functioned in America. Valachi - who had been a former Mafia
‘soldier’ in the Genovese crime family – disclosed that the Mafia was called
‘Cosa Nostra’ in Italian – translating as “this thing of ours†in English.
Valachi’s public testimony divulged the structure of the Mafia, from its
hierarchy to the Five Families in New York City. This incredible true story was
always going to have golden Hollywood potential when being made into a motion
picture, but there would be two competing Mafia movies in 1972. One became widely
regarded as one of the best films ever made and the other would disappear from
popular culture…
Perhaps, The Valachi Papers is worthy of a
reappraisal in the modern era. Sure, there are some clunky edits that also
plagued director Terence Young’s early James Bond films – although they are
simply too good to care – and the jolty dubbing of certain supporting actors
also fails to go unnoticed. That being said, it’s to the film’s credit that you
can overlook its flaws, that the story and performances are simply too good to
worry about a few minor things that don’t hold up well fifty years later.
Charles Bronson starred in The Valachi
Papers at a time when he was finally achieving major international stardom.
Having enjoyed success in ensemble pieces in a supporting capacity – The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape and The Dirty Dozen – Bronson made his name
as a leading man in Sergio Leone’s epic spaghetti western, Once Upon a Time in the West opposite Henry Fonda, Claudia
Cardinale and Jason Robards. The Valachi
Papers would be Young and Bronson’s third and final collaboration together
after Cold Sweat and Red Sun. As Bronson’s popularity as a
leading man grew, he would carry forward his tough guy persona under director Michael Winner as vigilante
Paul Kersey in the Death Wish series,
among other collaborations with Winner.
There’s an argument to be
made that Bronson’s performance as Joseph Valachi is the most versatile
performance of his entire career. Bronson emits his trademark softly spoken
innocence packaged with his menacing cats’ eyes that tell a thousand words when
no dialogue is offered, which in itself is a contradiction in terms. Yet
Bronson’s appearance changes more in this movie than in any of his others
combined. He’s convincing as Valachi in young, middle and old age – long before
the days of CGI and de-aging techniques. From the colour of his hair to the
speed at which he moves, Bronson is totally believable as Joe Valachi, which alone
makes the film worth seeing. It’s Bronson who makes the film tick, as the
narrative jumps back and forth through time – a comparison that you can make
with Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman. As
good as he is, Lino Ventura doesn’t have the same on-screen magnetism as Marlon
Brando’s Don Corleone. Perhaps the author of ‘The Godfather’, Mario Puzo,based
Don Vito Corleone on the real-life Vito Genovese? Puzo certainly drew on the
real Valachi Papers for his best-selling book that was adapted for the screen
by Francis Ford Coppola.
Indeed, The Valachi Papers lacks the all-round
spectacle, pomp and grandeur than that of The
Godfather. It’s not difficult to analyse why The Godfather was so successful. Hoping to ride the wave of The Godfather’s success – The Valachi Papers bombed commercially –
critically shunned as inferior. Director Terence Young said of The Godfather: “It is the most expensive
trailer ever made – a trailer for our film! We are really much closer to The French Connection. We are the other
side of that coin – you could call us ‘The Italian Connection’!â€
Comparable with The Godfather, The Valachi Papers does feel like an old movie – it’s not a
criticism, but it’s overshadowed by Coppola’s timeless classic. With the
exception of Bronson, there isn’t an all-star cast with multiple Academy Awards
between them or an array of quotable lines. The best we get is delivered by
Joseph Wiseman who’s best known as Dr. No in the film of the same name: “We
cannot bring back the dead, only kill the living.â€
The Valachi Papers
ultimately failed. Failed because it was immediately compared with The Godfather. How could it win? It has
a stripped-down sensibility – The
Irishman meets Goodfellas but on
a tenth of the budget. It’s not a masterpiece, but with Charles Bronson giving
a career best performance – The Valachi
Papers is a forgotten gem in need of a polish.
(Readers are invited to share their thoughts with Matt Davey at 4davem12@solent.ac.uk )
CLICK HERE TO ORDER BLU-RAY FROM AMAZON USA (Includes "Breakout", "Hard Times" and "The Stone Killer").
Today marks the birthday of Fred MacMurray. Writer Joe Elliott provides a fitting tribute to the late actor.
BY JOE ELLIOTT
Classic
Hollywood actor Fred MacMurray is probably best remembered today as the
easy-going father in the popular, long-running 1960s family sit-com “My Three
Sons.†As the head of the growing
Douglas clan, the pipe-smoking, sweater-clad MacMurray each week dispensed his
gentle blend of wisdom and humor to the delight of American television
audiences. One might have thought this was the kind of role MacMurray had
always played. Not so, a fact that was first brought home to me by my mother. I
recall as a kid hearing her say she didn’t much care for him. Not like Fred MacMurray???
“But why?†I asked. “Because of the jerks he played in the movies,†she told
me. It wasn’t until much later that I discovered what she meant. As many CinemaRetro
readers will know, MacMurray was a popular film star long before his days in TV.
Many still fondly recall him from his appearances in such Disney favorites as “The
Shaggy Dog†(1959) and “The Absent-Minded Professor†(1961). However, even before that, MacMurray starred in several
well-known roles, notably including ones where he played, to borrow my mom’s
word, a “jerk.â€
MacMurray,
a native Illinoian born in1908, supported himself
in his early years as a singer and jazz saxophonist (he played a trumpeter in 1937’s
“Swing High, Swing Low†with Carole Lombard.) His first credited film role was
in the forgettable “Grand Old Girlâ€(1935).While the
movie didn’t go anywhere, MacMurray, on the other hand, was off and running.
That same year, he appeared in no fewer than six other films, including the
George Stevens’ masterpiece, “Alice Adams†with Katharine Hepburn. He quickly
became one of Hollywood’s busiest young actors, portraying everything from air
pilots to cowboys. In 1940, he appeared alongside rising star Barbara Stanwyck
in “Remember the Night.†Soon he was
being paired with many of Hollywood’s other leading ladies, including Alice
Faye, Jean Arthur, Roseland Russell, Marlene Dietrich, and the beautiful
British actress Madeleine Carroll.
MacMurray starred in “Dive Bomber†at the
start of World War Two and made several other routine dramas during the war
years. Routine, that is, all except for one. Near the end of the war, he was
again cast with Stanwyck in “Double Indemnity,†considered today a bona fide
noir classic. MacMurray plays insurance salesman Walter Neff in the film. Neff
becomes obsessed with the sexy wife of one of his clients, played by Stanwyck,
and is willing to do anything to have her. As a result, he allows himself to be
lured into a plot to brutally kill her well-meaning but naïve husband in order
to collect the life insurance money on him. Director and writer Billy Wilder is
said to have wanted MacMurray, who by then had a well-established good guy
image, for the role to surprise and shock movie audiences. It was probably this
film that started my mom thinking of him as a jerk.
Like his friend and frequent co-star Barbara Stanwyck, MacMurray
didn’t like to play the same role twice, and so the next year starred in the
zany black-comedy “Murder, He Says.†“Murder†is, without a doubt, my favorite “Fred
movie.†Peter Marshall (MacMurray) works for the Trotter Poll ("like the
Gallup Poll, but not as fast"). He is sent out to find a co-worker who has
mysteriously disappeared. In the process, he stumbles upon a backwoods family
of homicidal maniacs, including the bullwhip-wielding matriarch of the clan
(Marjorie Main) and her half-witted identical twin sons Mert and Bert (Peter Whitney),
one of whom has a crick in his neck. There is some stolen money everyone is
after, the location of which is hidden in the lyrics of a nonsense song. The
creaky old house where Peter is held hostage is full of weird people and secret
passageways. There are two girls, both claiming to be the same person. There is
a hilarious climactic scene where everyone is assembled around the family
dinner table. They keep turning the lights on and off while spinning around the
lazy-Susan to avoid eating the poison-laced food.
MacMurray with Peter Whitney and Marjorie Main in "Murder, He Says".
Anybody
who eats the food glows in the dark. “Murder, He Says†is a crazy, rambunctious
movie, full of broad slapstick humor and great one-liners. A classic screwball
comedy and one MacMurray is entirely at home in. Fred would go on to make more
than forty more films in his career. Arguably his two best post-war roles, “The
Caine Mutiny†(1954) and “The Apartment†(1960), once again featured him as
first-class cads.
Fred
MacMurray was one of the highest-paid film actors of his day. His shrewd
investments in real estate and stocks made him one of the richest men in
Hollywood. Perhaps one reason he was so rich, apart from his smart business
sense, was his frugality, some might say, stinginess with a buck. Actor Robert Vaughn, who co-starred
with him in “Good Day for a Hanging†(1959), told a revealing story about some
boots. Vaughn arrived on the set one morning wearing a pair of expensive new
leather boots he had recently purchased at a fashionable Hollywood boutique.
MacMurray was much taken with them and asked Vaughn where he got them. The next
day Fred appeared wearing a similar pair. When Vaughn asked him about them, he
said he had spent the previous afternoon visiting one local thrift shop after
another until he found just the pair he wanted! For all that, Fred MacMurray
was very much a family man in real-life who enjoyed spending his off-hours
playing golf, fishing, and working on his farm. "I take my movie parts as they
come," he once said when asked about his career. "I don't fly into an
emotional storm about them. I just do them. I guess I am an offhand comedian in
a natural way."
Actress
Tina Cole co-starred with Fred
MacMurray on “My Three Sons.†She was the real-life daughter-in-law of Beverly
Garland. Garland played Fred’s wife on the final four seasons of the show.
Here
are a few memories Tina Cole recently shared with me about working with Fred MacMurray:
“I
thought Fred was a gentle, very sincere man with a genuine love and
respect for the family.He was quiet and rather shy off the set, but
hysterical when he was on and he could say more with one lift of an
eyebrow than most actors could with their entire face!
Fred
was known for his ‘frugality’ and both cast and crew were very surprised
with the huge bouquet of flowers he, and his wife June, sent me on my
first day of shooting. He knew about fellow cast member Don Grady's and my
deep love for each other and was disappointed when we did not marry.
Thereafter, every time I saw him he would ask if I had fallen in love. He
wanted to see me happily married, which I thought was so sweet.
Here's a little story Fred once shared
with me: He had just finished the
movie ‘The Apartment’ (in-between filming ‘My Three Sons’), and he and his
family were vacationing at Disneyland. A woman who saw the ‘The Apartment’ went
up to him in front of his family and belted him with his purse. ‘Mr. MacMurray,’
she said indignantly, ‘I took my kids to see that awful movie and I will never
see anything you’re ever in again!’ After that, Fred only did
family-oriented films realizing as he did he had developed a different
reputation. He stopped doing ‘heavy’ parts because of the effect that woman had
on him. True story.â€
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Scream
and Scream Again (1970) is the second of three films horror
maestro Vincent Price would sign onto in his late-stage years of working for
American-International Pictures.This film,
a very peculiar one by many standards, was bracketed by two other British
horrors for A.I.P., The Oblong Box
(1969) and Cry of the Banshee
(1970).All three films of these films were
helmed by director Gordon Hessler, who also doubled as producer of these first
and third efforts.
From 1960 through 1964 A.I.P. enjoyed great success with
Roger Corman’s cycle of stylistic Gothic horrors.These films were similar in many ways, often featuring
a tortured and/or haunted Vincent Price in Corman’s somewhat liberal
adaptations of stories by the likes of literary horror masters Edgar Allan Poe
and H.P. Lovecraft. The successes of these films were mostly in the studio’s
rearview mirror by 1965.With the
ticket-buying public’s interest in Gothic horror and costume period pieces
clearly on the wane, A.I.P. was doing their best to exploit the talent and
drawing power of their most bankable contract star.Depending on who you ask, some argue that this
trio of British A.I.P. film projects (1960-1970)
ministered by Hessler and starring Price were satisfying only to a base of faithful
devotees.
Both Hessler’s The
Oblong Box and Cry of the Banshee
– not to mention Michael Reeve’s controversial Witchfinder General (1968) – were unrelentingly grim in the
presentation of their subject matter.They were all very good films, mind you – some consider the Reeves’ film
a masterpiece - but their dark and serious themes and depressing atmospherics simply
did not allow Price to bring his trademark mix of Devilish charm and menace to
his assigned characters.It wasn’t until
the releases of The Abominable Dr. Phibes
(A.I.P., 1971), Dr. Phibes Rises Again
(A.I.P., 1972) and Theatre of Blood
(United Artists, 1973), that the ship would be righted, all three capitalizing
on the veteran actor’s talent as a colorfully self-mocking, blood-letting, and black-humored
eccentric.
In Scream and
Scream Again, a modern day sci-fi thriller rather than a traditional
horror, Price again was burdened again in a humorless role as “Dr. Browning.â€The not-so-good doctor is, in fact, a mad
scientist engaged in the creation of super-human “composites,†whiling away his
days in the laboratory of his stately manor house.Price is, sadly, wasted in a role that could
have been played by anyone.Then again
none of this film’s top billed players – Price, Christopher Lee and Peter
Cushing – were given much to do.If
Price’s is the principal star of this film, it’s simply by default.He merely enjoys the most screen time of the
three principals listed… but a bit more on that later.
Dr. Browning is not a terribly interesting character;
he’s too thinly drawn by screenwriter Christopher Wicking and we don’t see much
of him until the film’s closing minutes.The best of Vincent Price’s on-screen characterizations are the ones
where he seems relishing the role.One
is never really certain if Price even has any idea what is going on around him
in Scream and Scream Again.Director Hessler would more or less confirm
this in subsequent interviews, confiding to one writer that he thought Price
was not particularly fond of the three films he made under his direction.In the case of Scream and Scream Again, Hessler believed the actor “didn’t know
what he was doing in the picture; he thought it was all weird and strange.â€
If this was the case, Price was not alone in his
confusion.Co-star Christopher Lee (who
tragically only shares a brief single scene with Price) expressed similar sentiments.As Lee’s on screen time in this ninety-four
minute film (U.S. version) lasts little more than eight minutes or so in total,
he could more easily dismiss the film’s shortfalls as he wasn’t burdened with the
responsibility of carrying the picture.And for a film that teamed the three-biggest horror movie icons of the
1960s and 1970s for the first of only two full-length features together, it’s something
of a tragedy that poor Peter Cushing’s role is little more than a cameo.The scourge of missed opportunity is
ever-present throughout Hessler’s opus.
Scream
and Scream Again is credited as having been based on Peter
Saxon’s 1966 sci-fi-novel The
Disorientated Man.But, as with
seemingly everything relating to this is film, even that’s vague.In fact there was no actual Peter Saxon; the
name was a general pseudonym given to a stable of authors over-used and
underpaid by a certain British publisher of mass market sci-fi paperbacks.As I’ve never read Saxon’s novel, I cannot say
with any certainty if Hessler’s film is in any form a faithful, cinematic
reproduction of the source material.I
can attest that the director most assuredly captured the spirit of the book’s
title.In the final analysis, it could
be argued that Hessler’s multiple, shifting and confusing scenarios in Scream and Scream Again produced The Disorientated Viewer.
I won’t attempt to explain the film’s storyline
here.In short Hessler’s mosaic narrative
is a series of seemingly incongruous episodes bewilderingly stitched together.These threads do come together, somewhat
un-satisfyingly, in the end.It was an
unusual approach in telling this complex story cinematically but, in my
personal opinion, only occasionally successful.On the other hand, the film is never dull, just confusing in its structure.It can also be argued that for a film masquerading
as a police case or espionage caper, there’s no palpable sense of tension
building to a satisfying climax.Nonetheless,
many of the film’s scenes are memorable in standalone instances.Not particularly suspenseful, but memorable.
The mysterious villains of this film are adorned in both
business suits and ersatz-Nazi regalia.It’s never overtly explained if these schemers are jack-booted Communists
or Fascists, but they’re most certainly totalitarians.The bad guys are seemingly based out of some
unnamed East European nation.The
Stasi-like military helmets, the term “Comrade,†and a well- guarded checkpoint
suggest a hostile regime resembling that of Communist East Germany.But their interest in scientifically developing
an army of super-humans is… well, straight from the Nazi playbook.
Disappointingly, and as referenced earlier, the better
part of the film does not prominently feature Price, Lee, or Cushing despite
their shared star-billing.The film
mostly follows the violent doings (and ensuing police investigation) of a
renegade composite; a handsome but
murderous, synthetic flesh-eating Cyborg who drives a nifty red sports coupe. His modus operandi in choosing victims is by befriending
them at “The Busted Pot,†a swinging and noisy London nightclub. To tell more is to give things away.Should you require a more detailed synopsis
there are plenty of erudite and thoughtful treatises on Scream and Scream Again published in books, magazines, and on-line.
The year 1976 was a phenomenal time for films
that went into production. George Lucas’s space opera, Star Wars began principal photography in March; Steven Spielberg,
fresh off the success of Jaws, was
given carte blanche to bring Close Encounters of the Third Kind to
the screen and began shooting in May; and Dario Argento, who became emboldened
by the financial success of his latest and arguably best film to date, Profundo Rosso (known in the U.S. as Deep Red), embarked upon Suspiria, a murder mystery involving a
dance school hiding in plain sight while housing a coven of witches, which
began filming in July. Horror author Clive Barker once described this supernatural
extravaganza as what you would imagine a horror film to be like if you weren’t allowed
to see it. I believe that this is a good description of what is unquestionably
one of the most frightening, entertaining and colorful horror films ever made. Suspiria was edited for its American
theatrical exhibition due to some graphic violence that many would have
considered shocking for its day. Distributor 20th Century Fox was
reportedly so embarrassed by the film that they created a subsidiary company,
International Classics, to release it three months after their phenomenally
successful Star Wars, another film
they had no faith in.
Suspiria opened in New York
on Friday, August 12, 1977 at the long-gone Criterion on 45th and
Broadway before branching out to additional theaters. It’s the first in a
trilogy concerning the nature of Death (Inferno
(1980) and The Mother of Tears (2007)
are the second and third parts, respectively). The film’s quad-syllabic title
quite understandably leaves those who attempt to say it tongue-tied (it’s
pronounced sus-PEER-ee-ah). The word itself
has its origins in Latin and roughly translates into “sighs†or “whispers†and
the film is based upon the writings of British essayist Thomas De Quincey. His
most famous work, Confessions of an
English Opium Eater, was published in 1822. Twenty-three years later he
published Suspiria de Profundis which
is Latin for “Sighs from the Depths†and is a collection of essays, the most
famous of which is Levana and Our Ladies
of Sorrow which Mr. Argento used as the source material for his
trilogy.
In Suspiria,
Suzy Bannion, played by doe-eyed Jessica Harper (who was Woody Allen’s
girlfriend at the time and passed on Annie
Hall because she wanted to go to Italy), arrives in Frieberg, Germany to
begin dance lessons at the famous Tanz Academie (the architecture is copied
from Haus zum Walfisch in Freiberg). From the film’s opening frames, we already
know that we are in uncharted territory as the images are bathed in diffused
primary colors. Upon her arrival
at the airport, things are already not what they seem. Once she leaves the
premises and the glass doors close behind her, she enters a fairy tale in the
form of an unusually violent thunderstorm. Hitching a ride from a taxi
driver played by Argento regular Fulvio Mingozzi (min-GOATS-see), who worked for the director no less than ten times
in both film and television episodes, she makes her way to the school (as a
side-note, eagle-eyed viewers can see the director’s reflection in the glass
partition in the taxi 3:31 minutes into the film and it lasts for two seconds.
He appears, with a large smile on his face, in the lower left-hand corner of
the screen).
Just as she arrives, a hysterical woman, Pat
Hingle (Eva Axen), appears on the school’s doorstep and makes an unintelligible
proclamation before bolting into the deluge-swept streets. Suzy carps with a
woman on the intercom, pleading for entry and refuge from the torrential rain. When
she’s denied, she re-enters the taxi and rides through the Black Forest,
catching a glimpse of Pat as she runs, attempting to make her way past the
trees. What could possibly have set her off on such a perilous journey?
Pat makes her way to her friend Sonia’s (Susanna Javicoli) apartment,
hesitant to disclose what she has come to learn about the school. In what is
considered Argento’s finest hour and the film’s most disturbing and celebrated
sequence, Pat is violently stabbed by some inhuman creature with hairy arms and
long black fingernails and is thrown through a stained-glass window, the shards
of which also kill Sonia. It’s been compared with the shower scene in Psycho (1960) for pure shock effect,
though this one is much more graphic.
The calm following the storm reveals a
strange faculty staff consisting of lead ballet teacher Ms. Tanner (Alida Valli),
headmistress Madame Blanc (Joan Bennett), pianist Daniel (Flavio Bucci), and
Pavlos (Giuseppe Transocchi) the handyman. Suzy is told by the headmistress
that one of their expelled students, Pat, was murdered by a madman the night
before. Wouldn’t that be enough to send one packing their bags? The same scenario
plays out for Jennifer Connelly in the director’s other macabre coming-of-age
horror film, Phenomena (1985), and the
information in that film is met with nothing more than a smile and silence. Unbeknownst
to Suzy, the school is a front for a coven of witches who hold black masses
within the massive building’s stealthy labyrinths. Her suspicions that all is
not right with the school become confirmed when people around her suddenly disappear
or are killed off. Like previous Argento protagonists, Suzy plays sleuth to
gain insight into the bizarre goings-on, especially the teachers’ concerted
effort to hide the directress’s presence from her. When she teams up with Sarah
(Stefania Casini) to find out more about one Helena Markos, more people begin
to die as Suzy learns of a shocking secret that lies behind an imperceptible
door.
Suspiria’s simple premise
permits Mr. Argento to stage some of the most shocking and elaborate death
sequences of his career, all performed in-camera (that is without the use of
opticals or blue-screen technology used later in post-production). The Italian
progressive rock band Goblin provides a phenomenal score that, unbelievably,
was composed before filming began and was played on the film’s soundstages
during shooting to maximize the effect on the performers. It’s an astonishing
concoction with shrieks, whispers and wails, which I always assumed to be
non-diegetic in nature, acting almost as a macabre precursor to the far more
relaxing Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response (ASMR) videos that have taken YouTube
by storm.
Mr. Argento has also put together an eclectic
cast, the bulk of whom are women. Joan Bennett, who appeared in Fritz Lang’s coincidentally
titled Secret Beyond the Door… with
Michael Redgrave (1947) as well as her stint on Dark Shadows, provides the proper amount of sinister air that the
film requires. Alida Valli is terrific as Miss Tanner, the “stern and surlyâ€
ballet teacher, arguably the most memorable in the cast. Jessica Harper, fresh
off her role as Phoenix in Brian DePalma’s wildly entertaining Phantom of the Paradise (1974), appears
naïve but turns out to be anything but as she goes to greater-than-usual
lengths to uncover The Big Secret.
Suspiria is unique in that it
was shot on Eastman Kodak film but printed using the now-defunct three-strip
Technicolor dye transfer process which divided the negative into three individual
color bands of red, green, and blue. By manipulating the intensities of these
primary colors both on the set and in the lab, cinematographer Luciano Tovoli
was able to create some truly horrific and stunning images. The set design is
garish, colorful and must be seen to be believed. The
color scheme seems to have been inspired by Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (1937) and dance film aficionados
will likely also think of Emeric Pressburger and Michael Powell’s stunning 1948
technicolor film The Red Shoes and their follow-up, 1951’s The
Tales of Hoffman (George A. Romero’s favorite film), but the story seems inspired
by Chicho
Ibáñez-Serrador’s La Residencia, a terrific horror opus from 1970 which pits the borstal’s
headmistress, Senora Fourneau (played brilliantly by Lilli Palmer), against a
school of young women in need of reform. There is a predatory air about
Fourneau that carries over to Ms. Tanner in Suspiria.
A case might even be made that Ms. Tanner is a psychological cinematic
equivalent of the malevolent and sadistic Mrs. Wakehurst in Peter Walker’s House of Whipcord (1974). La Residencia has appeared under such
titles as The Finishing School, The Boarding School and here in the
States as The House That Screamed when
it was released on a double-bill with Anthony M. Lanza’s The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant in July 1971.
Cinemaretro.com
has received the following press release regarding the exhibition of the new
film Rush: Cinema Strangiato 2019, which will be shown in select
theaters on Wednesday, August 21, 2019.
Rush
(pun intended!) to get your tickets now as they are selling out very quickly
(let’s hope that additional dates are added!):
TRAFALGAR RELEASING AND ANTHEM ENTERTAINMENT BRING
‘RUSH: CINEMA STRANGIATO 2019’
TO MOVIE THEATERS WORLDWIDE ON AUGUST 21
THIS FIRST EVER “ANNUAL EXERCISE IN FAN INDULGENCE†FOR RUSH FANS
WILL FEATURE A SPECIAL LOOK INTO R40 LIVE, FEATURING NEW BACKSTAGE FOOTAGE,
SPECIAL GUESTS, AND HIT SONGS “CLOSER TO THE HEART,†“SUBDIVISIONS†AND MORE
Denver, CO – June 11, 2019: Global
event distributor Trafalgar Releasing today announcedRUSH: Cinema Strangiato 2019, coming to select cinemas across the
globe, for a special, limited theatrical engagement on Wednesday, August 21.
Hailed as the first "Annual Exercise in Fan Indulgence" Cinema Strangiato is set to see the Holy Trinity of
Rock return to the big screen bringing RUSH fans together in movie theatres
worldwide.
In partnership with Concord Music
Group and Anthem Entertainment, RUSH: Cinema Strangiato 2019 will feature a special look inside some of the most powerful performances from R40 LIVE,
the band’s 2015 tour and album of the same name.
The theatrical film experience is
set to include top RUSH songs, such as “Closer to the Heart",
"Subdivisions", "Tom Sawyer" and more, as well as
unreleased backstage moments and candid footage previously left on the cutting
room floor.The release also includes
unseen soundcheck performances of the fan-favorite "Jacob's Ladder,†and
exclusive new interviews with Tom Morello, Billy Corgan, Taylor Hawkins,
producer Nick Raskulinecz, violinist Jonathan Dinklage and more.
As a special bonus, fans will get a glimpse into the
madness and passion that went into the making of Geddy Lee's new book, Geddy
Lee's Big Beautiful Book of Bass - featuring a brand-new interview from the
RUSH frontman himself.
“I’m
excited for fans to see some new clips from our R40 tour but also a peek
behind the scenes of making the Big Beautiful Book of Bass,â€
said Geddy Lee.
The news of RUSH: Cinema Strangiato 2019follows
other recently announced upcoming music releases from Trafalgar Releasing including The Cure: Anniversary 1978-2018 Live
in Hyde Park London directed by longtime collaborator Tim Pope, the first
worldwide outing for the ninth Grateful Dead Annual Meet-up at the Movies,
hit Tribeca Film Festival music documentary Between Me and My Mind
featuring Phish frontman Trey Anastasio, and the latest film from Roger Waters
based on the US + THEM World Tour. Other recent music releases from Trafalgar
Releasing have included The Music Center presents Joni 75: A Birthday
Celebration,
Coldplay:
A Head Full of Dreams, Burn the Stage: the Movie, Muse Drones World Tour and Distant
Sky: Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds Live in Copenhagen.
Kymberli Frueh,
SVP for Acquisitions at Trafalgar Releasing added: "Trafalgar Releasing is
thrilled to bring Rush: Cinema Strangiato 2019 to theaters around the
globe for the first of what we’re hoping will become an annual event, bringing
fans together to experience a celebration of one of the world's most popular
rock bands."
The event will be screened in theaters around the
world on Wednesday, August 21. Fans can visit CinemaStrangiato.com to sign up
for news and ticketing updates.
The
first question you are probably asking is “Do we need another book about Hammer
films?†Speaking as someone whose Hammer shelf is already groaning with the
weight of so many volumes on the company, the answer, as far as Hammer Complete
is concerned, is “Absolutely.†This book, coming in at nearly 1000 pages, is a
lifetime achievement for journalist Howard Maxford, and one that deserves
immense praise. Unlike other books which might focus specifically on the horror
films, or the posters, or the ups and downs of the company itself, here Maxford
has attempted to provide a complete encyclopedia of everything and everyone
connected to Hammer. From Temple Abady (who appeared in Never Look Back in
1952) and The Abominable Snowman (1957) to Murial Zillah (Danger List, 1957)
and Marc Zuber (The Satanic Rites of Dracula, 1974), no Hammer stone has been
left unturned or contributor ignored.
Unlike
many books of this type which are little more than a collection of facts
cribbed from Wikipedia and the Internet Movie Database, Maxford has conducted
many interviews over the years with Hammer stars including Christopher Lee
himself, which means there is plenty of new and insightful material here
alongside his primary research and original reviews of the films themselves.
The entry on Lee is spread over six pages, where his career is discussed at
length including his well-known frustration with the decline in quality of the
Dracula films; of Scars of Dracula (1970) he complained, “I was a pantomime
villain. Everything was over the top, especially the giant bat whose
electrically motored wings flapped with slow deliberation as if it were doing
morning exercises.†Likewise, his frequent co-star Peter Cushing gets a
similarly lengthy entry, as do many of the other key players such as regular
character actor Michael Ripper, director Terence Fisher, producer James
Carreras, writer-director Jimmy Sangster and script supervisor Renee Glynne,
who first worked for the company in 1947 and was still present when they went to
Hong Kong to make The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires and Shatter (both 1974).
Maxford
is fair in his assessment of the films themselves, discussing at length those
which have become legendary - the triumvirate of The Curse of
Frankenstein (1957) Dracula (1958) and The Mummy (1959) in particular - as well
as being fair to those films often derided or ignored, including my personal
favourite; Slave Girls (also known as Prehistoric Women, 1968), made primarily
to reuse all those fur bikinis left over from One Million Years B.C. (1966).
It
may have a high price tag, but Hammer Complete is a huge, well-researched
reference book that no Hammer aficionado should be without.
This ad appeared in Boxoffice magazine in April 1968 extolling the longevity of Fox's three big roadshow presentations. For the unenlightened, "roadshow" films were big budget productions that played in grand movie palaces in select cities. It could often be many months before these films came to neighborhood theaters nationwide. What is remarkable about this ad is that it illustrates that even after such films went "wide" to hundreds of other theaters, people still paid top dollar to enjoy seeing them in the roadshow presentations. Consider that "The Sound of Music" opened in 1965 and "The Sand Pebbles" and "The Bible" both opened in 1966. Yet, years later, the roadshow venues were still showing these films. Today, even blockbuster movies aren't in theaters very long because so much of the profit comes from a quick turnaround onto video and streaming services. However, in those days when movie theaters provided the only forum in which to see favorite blockbusters, fans would patronize theaters to see them repeatedly. This afforded them the opportunity to see the movies in their original versions, as studios often cut considerable footage when releasing them to local theaters.
Click here to order Cinema Retro's Movie Classics edition devoted to Roadshow movies of the 1960s.
Movie marketing sure has changed. Studios rarely advertise films in newspapers today (assuming you can still find a newspaper today) but that medium was once the most effective method of promoting new films. Not only were traditional ads run but clever off-beat ancillary campaigns were also featured in the guise of entertainment. For example, here is a promotional campaign for the 1966 epic "Khartoum" starring Charlton Heston and Laurence Olivier that was squarely aimed at kids despite the fact that the intended audience was adults. This promotional block seen above was featured in the United Artists pressbook sent to American theater owners to suggest creative local publicity campaigns.
(For extensive coverage of the making of "Khartoum", get the Cinema Retro Movie Classic Roadshow Epics of the 1960s issue by clicking here.)
Real-life husband and wife Charles Bronson and Jill Ireland made numerous films together. Among them: "Breakout", a 1975 film that was shot quickly in order to capitalize on Bronson's soaring popularity with "Death Wish". The crime thriller was lambasted by critics but performed very well indeed at the boxoffice. Click here for review.
We recently reported on the trials and tribulations
everyone associated with “Gotti†experienced over the seven years expended in
attempting to bring the biopic to the big screen (the film has more producers
credited than the entire population of Lichtenstein.) . When the film did open,
it earned the rare distinction of being unanimously panned by the critics
surveyed on Rotten Tomatoes. So, I guess I’m out there on my own when I say I
found the film to be quite satisfying on any number of levels. Mind you, I’m
also a defender of Michael Cimino’s “Heaven’s Gateâ€, so you should take that
into consideration. To read the reviews of this troubled production, one would
think it was genuinely awful. It isn’t. In fact, there is much to recommend
here, not the least of which is the very effective performance by John Travolta
as the titular New York crime boss John Gotti. It’s a bold performance by
Travolta, as he ages on screen from a young, aspiring mob member to an older
man dying from throat cancer while locked in solitary confinement in a federal
penitentiary. Travolta looks the part and captures the swagger of Gotti. His
performance here represents his most ambitious and impressive work on screen in
many years.
The film, directed by Kevin Connolly, rather
superficially chronicles Gotti’s rise from lowly Mafia henchman to a mid-range
boss under the command of Gambino crime family cappo du tutti capo Paul Castellano (Donald John Volpenhein). Gotti
is displeased with “Big Paul†because he inherited his status in the mob as
opposed to having coming up from the streets and earned respect the
old-fashioned way. Worse, Castellano resides in a mansion on a hill and has
never developed personal friendships with his underlings. That’s not only a
job-killer if you’re in the Mafia, it’s also a trait that doesn’t bode well for
anyone looking forward to enjoying old age. The film depicts Gotti plotting to
use a team of confederates to assassinate “Big Paulâ€, with the tacit approval
of his immediate superior and mentor Neil Dellacroce (marvelously played by
Stacy Keach), who everyone believes should hold the position “Big Paul†now
enjoys. But Dellacroce is terminally ill and he gives his blessing for Gotti to
“off†him which infamously occurred when the target and his driver were dining
at Sparks Steak House in Manhattan. Gotti is then established as the boss of
the Gambino crime family.
The screenplay by Lem Dobbs and Leo Rossi is admirable on
several counts. The dialogue rings true to anyone who grew up in or around New
York City (yes, I know guys who still joke “I wouldn’t fuck her with your dickâ€) and there are some powerful
scenes that truly resonate from a dramatic standpoint. But the writers err by
failing to tell the tale in a linear manner. Instead, events hopscotch all over
the decades. In one scene Gotti is a young hood looking to impress his bosses
by performing a hit. Next we see him as a middle-aged man trying to cope with
domestic problems and grieving over the death of his young son in a traffic
accident. (Gotti’s wife Victoria is played by Travolta’s real-life wife Kelly
Preston in a fine and convincing performance.) Next we see an almost
unrecognizable Gotti as a bloated older man fighting terminal throat cancer in
prison. The constant intermixing of varying eras is befuddling and matters
aren’t helped by an over-abundance of chyrons identifying various minor
characters who don’t play a major part in the goings-on.
The movie accurately portrays Gotti’s reputation in
Queens as that of a folk hero among the local working class. His annual ad-hoc,
unauthorized Fourth of July street fair and fireworks show involved dispensing
free food and drinks to anyone who showed up. When the police tried to stop the
extravaganzas, Gotti accused them of being unpatriotic and he was allowed to
continue. This manipulation of the middle class was essential in maintaining
his grass roots support. He wasn’t the first authoritarian figure to realize he
could manipulate naïve people by tossing them some crumbs while obtaining
significant ill-gotten gains for himself. He also wasn’t the first dictatorial
personality to wrap himself in faux patriotism, and history has proven he wouldn’t
be the last. One would think that working class people would resent a man who
wore expensive suits and lived the high life, but the image of the swaggering,
unapologetic narcissist only endeared him to his supporters. Where Gotti erred
was in not following the tradition of the older mob bosses who kept a low
profile, never gave interviews and avoided being photographed. Gotti couldn’t
resist playing to his image and loved seeing his face on TV and in the New York
tabloids. He also wasn’t a criminal mastermind. He continued to plot crimes at
his inconspicuous “social club†despite knowing the place was thoroughly bugged
by the FBI. He wasn’t a great judge of character and was ultimately the
betrayals by some of his closest confidants such as Sammy “The Bull†Gravano
that resulted in the “The Teflon Donâ€â€™s luck running out. His years of fame and
fortune paled in comparison to his lonely, painful death in prison, largely
estranged from his family.
Renowned
science fiction writer Jerome Bixby produced many short stories in the genre,
but he is perhaps most well-known for writing a handful of classic Star Trek episodes (“Mirror, Mirror,â€
“By Any Other Name,†and more). The memorable original Twilight Zone entry, “It’s a Good Life,†was based on his short
story, as was the same segment in The
Twilight Zone—The Motion Picture (1983). Bixby was also responsible for the
stories or scripts for sci-fi films such as Fantastic
Voyage (1966), and It! The Terror
from Beyond Space (1958).
Bixby’s
last work, allegedly completed on his deathbed in 1998, was the screenplay The Man from Earth. Nearly ten years
later (2007), Bixby’s son Emerson helped bring it to the screen as producer.
The low-budget feature was directed by Richard Schenkman and starred David Lee
Smith as “John Oldman,†a man in the present day who has lived without aging
for 14,000 years. Released with little fanfare, The Man from Earth grew a cult following and is today considered
one of the “great science fiction films you’ve never heard of.†It is the kind
of picture that is cerebral, intelligent, and deals with existential themes and
ideas. Sci-fi for the mind.
Over
the ensuing years, Schenkman and Emerson apparently received many requests from
fans of the original work to make a sequel. The idea was resisted until the
concept of a TV series was floated. In each episode, the Man from Earth would be
on the run, followed by various groups of cultists and “believersâ€â€”much the
same way Richard Kimble (The Fugitive)
had to move from place to place.
Thus,
The Man from Earth: Holocene was made
as a backdoor pilot to a series, was an official selection at the Dances with
Films Festival, and it is now available on home video.
Holocene picks up a decade
after the events of the first picture, with John “Young†(he changes his
surname with every move across country) teaching religious studies at a
community college in a small California town. He’s shacking up with fellow
teacher Carolyn (Vanessa Williams), keeping a low profile, and inspiring
students. A quartet of these young adults, played with aplomb by Akemi Look,
Sterling Knight, Brittany Curran, and Carlos Knight, discover John’s secret,
decide that he has all the answers to their many questions about life,
religion, and the universe, and begin to, well, stalk him.
One
of the students, Isabel (Look), contacts Art (William Katt), the primary
antagonist from the first film. Art had been a professor, like John, who wrote
a non-fiction book about the Man from Earth, exposing his tale, and was roundly
pilloried by the academic world and shunned for it. Thus, he has an axe to
grind with John.
Revealing
any more about the story would spoil what is a very decent continuation of the
original picture. While the first movie took place mostly in one room—like a
stage play (and, in fact, Schenkman adapted that film into a play that has been
produced around the world)—Holocene has
“opened up.†It was shot in various locations around the town. It does retain,
however, the intellectual and dialogue-heavy aspects, keeping it in tune with the
original and what will, hopefully, indeed become a series. This reviewer has fingers
crossed!
Star Trek—The Next
Generation’sMichael Dorn and Star Trek: Enterprise’s John Billingsley also appear in Holocene as, respectively, the college’s
dean and as Harry, a character from the first film.
The Man from Earth:
Holocene is
once again a low-budget but thoughtful treatise on the nature humanity. The
acting, especially of Smith as John, and of Look as Isabel, is top-notch.
MVDvisual’s
Blu-ray looks gorgeous and shows off Richard Vialet’s cinematography with sharp
images and vivid color. The main feature comes with an audio commentary by
Schenkman and co-producer Eric D. Wilkinson. A Behind-the-Scenes Documentary
features most of the crew and cast and takes the viewer through the history of
the first film and production of Holocene.
Also included are featurettes on the score by Mark Hinton Stewart, the premiere
at the Dances with Films premiere, deleted/extended scenes with optional commentary,
a kickboxing video made for the movie, photo gallery, poster gallery, teaser
trailer, and theatrical trailer.
If
you’ve never seen either picture, the original The Man from Earth is now also available from MVD as a special
edition Blu-ray/DVD combo.(Click here for review). Holocene may
not have the impact of the first movie, but it is indeed a worthwhile follow-up.
We recently reported on the Moviepass announcement that the company would now limit subscribers to seeing only four movies a month under the current plan, as a method of trying to reduce the sea of red ink the company finds itself contending with. Now, the web site Wired reports that the company has reverted back to its initial program that allows subscribers to see one movie a day, every day of the month in return for a $9.95 monthly fee. The service has proven to be wildly popular in America and over two million members are now on board. However, the company has not succeeded in its goal of getting theaters to share revenue from concessions, which is crucial to the ability of Moviepass to survive as a viable entity. Meanwhile, the company has told Wired that recent problems with the AMC movie chain have now been resolved. Click here for more.
(Thanks to subscriber Karen Keithler for the alert.)
UPDATE: MOVIEPASS HAS REVERTED BACK TO ITS ORIGINAL PROGRAM THAT ALLOWS SUBSCRIBERS TO ATTEND ONE MOVIE A DAY. CLICK HERE FOR DETAILS.
BY LEE PFEIFFER
Moviepass is a subscription program available to movie-goers in the USA that allows members to pay $9.95 per month in return for receiving a card that allows them to see a different movie every day for no charge at over 4,000 theaters nationwide. (The price is less if you get the card via www.costco.com, assuming you are a Costco member. Costco also includes a year's subscription to the classic movie streaming site www.fandor.com) Over 2 million people subscribe to the program through www.moviepass.com. Some skeptics have stayed away on the basis that the service was too good to be true. They were wrong. Moviepass isn't too good to be true and subscribers have become fervent enthusiasts of the service. There's no catch. From New York to L.A., from Montana to Florida, you could go to a different movie every day of the week. But now the party is at least partially over. Moviepass has been predictably bleeding red ink from its business design, which sees the company paying participating theaters the full price of a customer's ticket. Do the math. The company only gets $9.95 per month from each subscriber but in big cities, Moviepass has to pay out as much as $15 bucks a ticket to theaters every time the customer attends a movie. Moviepass has gambled that they would have enough leverage over theater chains to coerce them into revenue sharing proceeds from concession sales. But that hasn't happened in a big way even though the service can justifiably argue that theaters are selling seats to customers who ordinarily would not have gone to many movies. One of the problems is that theaters are raked over the coals by movie studios that command the lion's share of ticket revenues. It's only when movies enter extended runs that theaters get a meatier share of the ticket sales, thus they depend on sales of over-priced concessions. This is why your local big city theater now resembles a restaurant, offering everything from Mexican food to pizza, along with the ability to dine while watching the film. Theaters are stuck in a dilemma: they can deny Moviepass a percentage of those precious concession revenues but if Moviepass dies, their theaters will have far fewer customers.
Moviepass has announced a "temporary" change to its core program: new subscribers will only be able to see up to four movies a month- and customers can only see the same movie once. Existing customers can still see a different movie every day but are still barred from repeat viewings of the same film. New customers are supposed to take solace from receiving a three month trial to a subscription radio station....but that's caused a backlash because the subscription automatically continues on a pay basis unless the customer pro-actively remembers to stop it. An article in Fortune addresses the challenges to Moviepass and casts doubt on whether existing customers will be able to continue to enjoy their "movie a day" plan when they renew their subscriptions. Moviepass is already losing $20 million a month. On the other hand, even seeing four movies a month would probably satisfy the average subscriber, so it isn't known how many subscribers might defect- and if they do, what will they gain? They will just end up paying much more at theater boxoffices. It seems a happy medium is in order if both Moviepass and major theater chains can come to terms. Moviepass should get some percentage of the revenues they are sending into theaters, especially on slow nights when attendance is sparse. After all, theaters are selling far more buckets of popcorn to customers who would not be there if it weren't for Moviepass. At the same time, the Fortune article addresses the poor customer service at Moviepass, which lacks a phone number customers can call if they experience problems. The company is also rather slow in sending out important notices. When some New York City theaters dropped out of the program months ago, customers weren't notified for days, with the result being that people showed up at the theaters and were simply told their cards were no longer valid. Only after an outcry did Moviepass notify customers. Still, even a streamed-down version of the plan is a value that will continue to tempt avid movie-goers because it beats the alternatives. Click here to read more.
When
it was announced that Flowers in the Attic was lined up for its UK Blu-ray
debut, it occurred to me that I had no real memory of my one and only dip into
writer-director Jeffrey Bloom’s adaptation of the controversial, best-selling
Virginia (V.C.) Andrews novel – which I guess would have been right back upon
its initial release in 1987. Interest to revisit it duly piqued, my
anticipation was tempered a tad by the sense that being unable to remember it had
surely to be indicative that it wasn’t actually very good. Although it still
amuses me that a guy named Bloom wrote and directed a film with Flowers in the
title, regrettably my reservations proved well founded. It really is rather
awful. There be spoilers ahead!
After
the death of her husband, Corinne Dollenganger (Victoria Tennant) falls on hard
times and is forced to return, with her four children in tow, to the childhood
home she left in disgrace 17 years earlier. Corinne’s puritanical mother, Fran
(Louise Fletcher), isn’t best pleased to see them and, although she evidently
despises both her own daughter and the grandchildren she’s never met, she
reluctantly allows them to stay, telling them that she’ll give them food and
shelter but never kindness and love. The children (Jeb Stuart Adams, Kristy
Swanson, Ben Ganger and Lindsay Parker) remain upstairs out of sight, whilst
Corinne makes an effort to reconnect with her bedridden, dying father (Marshall
Colt). She tells the siblings that if she’s able to atone for her past
transgressions before he dies, and most importantly convince him that she never
had children, then he’ll write her back into his will and they’ll be well-heeled
for the rest of their lives. But as the days pass it becomes apparent that the
children have become prisoners – visited in their locked room only to be fed –
and Corinne becomes ever more distant, spending less and less time with them.
What can she possibly have done all those years ago that was so terrible? And
what is the purpose of those four child-sized holes being dug in the woods?
All
sounds rather intriguing, doesn’t it? An adaptation of the first in a quartet
of novels (with a tweaked denouement) it’s certainly a nice set up; once the
family receive a frosty welcome at grandma’s abode all the pieces are in place
for a potentially gripping and increasingly sinister tale. Unfortunately, things
quickly devolve into a bit of a slog, the various plot turns becoming ever more
irksome as the children – who are far from dullards – fail to do what anyone
with half a brain cell trapped in their situation would.
Released
in 1977, Scalpel is one of only two films bearing the director credit John
Grissmer. A decade apart, the other is 1987’s marginally less satisfying Blood
Rage. Which isn’t to suggest that Scalpel itself is particularly good, because
it’s not. It is, however, the better of the pair.
Plastic
surgeon Dr Phillip Reynolds (Robert Lansing) is in a bit of a quandary. His
wife is some while dead and his father-in-law, who despised him, has just
passed away bequeathing a fortune to Reynolds’ daughter Heather (Judith
Chapman). The problem is that Heather disappeared after witnessing Reynolds
committing a dreadful crime and she hasn’t been seen for over a year. And
Reynolds wants that money! A solution presents itself when he’s out driving one
night and almost runs over Jane, a stripper who’s been savagely beaten up and
is laid unconscious in the road. Whisking Jane off to the hospital where he
works, Reynolds hatches a scheme to refashion her smashed face to replicate that
of the missing Heather. As she recovers he makes her a proposal: successfully
pass herself off as Heather until the cash is signed over and they will split
it down the middle. It sounds perfect. But with $5 million at stake there’s
trouble ahead and Reynolds’ cunning plan is about to be derailed by an
unexpected arrival...
Also
circulating under the title False Face – which arguably has less exploitation
value plastered across a marquee than Scalpel, but is technically more
pertinent – John Grissmer’s debut film is a bit of an oddity. Although on first
run it feels mired in a pervasive grubbiness, when you step back and analyse it
that’s more down to the sickly yellow glaze that bedecks the entire movie (the
artistic intent of cinematographer Edward Lachman) than anything particularly
disturbing content-wise. In fact, a fleeting flash of nudity and a splash or
two of graphic bloodshed aside, Scalpel could almost pass as a TV production. This
impression is enforced by the headlining presence of prolific actor Robert
Lansing, whose work on television (in a fistful of made-for-TV movies, but
mostly in episodes of a myriad of series) outweighed his big screen appearances
14 to 1. Nevertheless, he’s on excellent form here as the nutty surgeon with as
much of a fixation on his daughter – the manifestation of incestuous desire may
be fairly tame but it’s scarcely subtle – as he has on lining his pockets with
ill-gotten millions. Judith Chapman meanwhile is every bit his equal in the
contrasting roles of Jane and Heather and there’s some very efficient split
screen work served up on those occasions that she’s called upon to share the
screen with herself.
Director
Grissmer also penned the script, based on an original story by Joseph
Weintraub, and if it’s not exactly thrill-a-minute stuff it certainly manages
to keep one engaged enough through a number of (mostly predictable) twists,
although for my money it badly fumbles the ball in the penultimate act with a
daft sequence in which one of the main characters descends into gibbering
madness.
Provided
you don’t go in expecting to be wowed, you shouldn’t come away too
disappointed. But the bottom line is that it’s always pleasing to see a movie
brought back from the brink of obscurity – for every naysayer there’s always
going to be someone else rejoicing – and for that reason alone Scalpel is well
worth a look.
In
this instance it’s the ever reliable Arrow Video breathing new life into the
borderline obscure and the package they’ve put together for Scalpel is very decent
indeed. There are two versions of film to choose from, one faithfully retaining
the original, rather off-putting yellowish-green hues of the
aforementioned cinematography, the other being Arrow’s own newly tweaked version
with the colour grading adjusted to attain a more naturalistic look; although
staunch traditionalists will favour the former, the latter makes the film more
palatable by far. Whichever you select, there’s the option to watch in the
company of a commentary by film historian Richard Harland Smith. 45-minutes’
worth of all-new interviews with director John Grissmer, DOP Edward Lachman and
star Judith Chapman, a slideshow gallery of stills and artwork, plus a vintage
trailer combine to constitute the bonus goodies. A reversible sleeve and
collector’s booklet may be par for the course now with Arrow releases, but
they’re never less than welcome.
A LOOK AT 2017 FILMS NOMINATED FOR PROMINENT OSCARS
BY LEE PFEIFFER
Who would have imagined that amid the debris of over-produced super hero movies, Winston Churchill would emerge as a major figure in films released in 2017? The woefully underrated "Churchill" (click here for review) was first out of the box, chronicling the British Prime minister's tumultuous inner-grappling with the pending D-Day invasion, which he supported but dissented from Eisenhower and Montgomery as to where and when the great armada should land. (History happily proved his instincts wrong.) Brian Cox gave a magnificent portrayal of Churchill that was largely overlooked by critics and the public. Churchill's specter also looms largely over Best Picture nominee "Dunkirk", as it was he who ordered the evacuation of stranded British troops by an improvised "fleet" of private vessels, small and large. The second Churchill biopic, "Darkest Hour", has won raves for Joe Wright's direction, Anthony McCarten's script and the towering performance of Gary Oldman as Churchill. The role is one that any fine actor would relish but there are dangers in portraying the man, as the line between accuracy and playing a cartoon version is a thin one. Oldman succeeds brilliantly, capturing Churchill's many character flaws as well as his strengths. The movie confines itself to Churchill's uneasy ascension to being Prime Minister, a lifelong dream achieved under less-than-optimum circumstances. His successor, Neville Chamberlain (a superb Ronald Pickup, who bears an astonishing resemblance to the man) has been removed from office for failing to adequately stand up to Hitler's advances through Europe. (It was Chamberlain who had met with Hitler and proudly waved a meaningless treaty that promised "Peace in our time.) Churchill is no one's first choice to lead the nation in the coming struggle. He's regarded by his peers as temperamental, eccentric and questionable in terms of wisdom, with his disastrous WWI campaign at Gallipoli still haunting the nation. Furthermore, King George VI had little confidence in the decision to elevate Churchill to PM, but relented and gave approval only when it became clear that there was little choice.
The film traces Churchill's dilemma in those early days of the war. Things looked grim, indeed. Churchill knew it was essential for America to enter the conflict but, prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor, the nation was in isolationist mode. In one of the most poignant scenes in "Darkest Hour", Churchill pleads over the phone with FDR for assistance, but the president explains his hands are tied by a congress that wants to remain neutral. The biggest crisis he faces is that France is rapidly falling to advancing German forces, leaving the cream of the British army stranded on the beaches of Dunkirk and awaiting annihilation. The movie painstakingly chronicles Churchill's inner struggles in dealing with the crisis. His first instincts are to resist until the end, giving his famous speech that the British people will fight on no matter where the enemy confronts them. However, he is under severe pressure from Chamberlain and Halifax to negotiate a peace treaty with Hitler, an alternative that disgusts him but which seems practical to Parliament. The film gains tension even though we know how it all played out in the end. Churchill comes up with a desperate plan to enlist every available ship in the private sector to form a mini armada across the Channel to rescue the stranded troops. Before the operation can be completed, however, Churchill begins to cave and consider the option of a peace plan. This is where the script goes off kilter with a completely fictional scene in which Churchill gets a sudden desire to read the will of the people about their resolve to fight on. He jumps out of his limousine and makes an impromptu ride on the London Underground, chatting with astonished passengers and being reassured they support his strategy not to negotiate with Hitler. The scene is emotionally moving, but preposterous and more than a bit corny. Making matters worse, Churchill is only supposed to be on the train for a single stop but the journey seems longer than the one experienced by the people traveling to Siberia in "Doctor Zhivago". Bolstered by the resolve of the public, Churchill walks straight in to Parliament and gives an impassioned speech that rallies friends and foes alike. His judgment is ratified by the ultimate success of the Dunkirk operation, which turned a bitter defeat into a triumph.
The historical hokum presented in "Darkest Hour" is frustrating because it undermines the entire film. Why create a scene that so simplifies history when the real life scenario was even more dramatic? Nevertheless, there is much to admire in the film aside from Oldman's superb performance. Every supporting actor delivers the goods, with Ben Mendelsohn particularly good as King George. Unfortunately, Kristin Scott Thomas is largely reduced to a figurehead as Churchill's wife Clemmie. In "Churchill', the character, played by Miranda Richardson, engaged in constant contentious situations with her husband, which mirrored their real-life marriage. In "Darkest Hour", Clemmie simply smiles a lot and reassures ol' Winnie that things will be just fine. Despite the film's flaws, "Darkest Hour" is an engaging and admirable effort that should be seen. It has many virtues aside from the fact that it's probably sent the sale of cigars soaring.
("Darkest Hour" is nominated for six Oscars including Best Picture).
It started with a rather innocuous post on the Cinema Retro Facebook page of the paperback movie tie-in novel for "Beneath the Planet of the Apes" along with a notation that we missed the era in which so many new films spawned the release of these editions. Before you could say "Dr. Zaius", readers from around the globe chimed in with their own memories of reading and collecting these books. Best of all, many of them took us up on the challenge to post any photos they might have from their own personal collections. Before long, there was a plethora of great images posted, bringing back memories of paperbacks based on "Dirty Harry", "Taxi Driver", "Star Wars", "The Mechanic" and so many others. Click here to join the fun and feel free to add your own observations and photos. (Note: to view all the entries, go to the end of the article and click on "View more comments" link.)
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Click here to order Cinema Retro's special edition tribute issue to "Where Eagles Dare".
BY LEE PFEIFFER
Writing in the Daily Mail, journalist Philip Norman recalls his visit to the Austrian set of "Where Eagles Dare" to interview Richard Burton. As a star-struck 24 year-old, he was given personal access to Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, who had accompanied her husband to the film set. All was going swimmingly until an ill-fated, late night social gathering took place in the hotel lobby where Burton and other cast members were still clad in the uniforms of German army officers. An unstable American fan approached Burton to tell him how much he admired him- but when he became intrusive, a war of words broke out and the man pulled a pistol on Burton, threatening his life. In true cinema style, the unflappable Burton dared the man to either use it or stick it up his arse! The tense scene was diffused by the unexpected appearance of Taylor, clad in her nightdress, who paraded into the lobby and seemed more disturbed about the noise from the argument than the man threatening her husband's life. Click here to read the remarkable and amusing tale.
Sandwiched
between his debut feature (1970’s The
Bird with the Crystal Plumage, which had enjoyed unprecedented success with
American audiences) and the equally excellent Four Flies on Grey Velvet, Dario Argento’s The Cat O’Nine Tails (o.t. Il
Gatto a Nova Code) is disappointingly inferior to both in almost every
respect. Despite this, almost everything with the director’s name on it –
emphasis on almost (and up until the mid-90s
at least) – is streets ahead of anything in a similar vein, so I hesitate to be
too hard on it.
Franco
Arno (Karl Malden), a former newspaper journalist forced into retirement when
he lost his sight, now lives with his niece Lori (Cinzia De Carolis) and earns
a crust compiling crossword puzzles. Out walking one evening, they pass a car
parked up outside an institute involved in genetic experimentation and sharp-eared
Arno overhears a snippet of suspicious conversation between the occupants.
Later the same night the place is burgled. A chance encounter with reporter
Carlo Giordani (James Franciscus), who’s been sent to cover the story, results
in Arno assisting him to investigate the break-in. But when people associated
with the institute begin to die it seems that the burglar is prepared to kill
to obfuscate what he was up to…and Arno and Giordani realise they’ve stupidly
placed themselves in his crosshairs!
I must
raise a hand here and confess that despite my admiration for Dario Argento’s
work and having seen most of his films on multiple occasions, of his pre-1990s
output The Cat O’Nine Tails is the
one I’ve watched least. Possibly only a couple of times in fact. As such it’s
one with which I’m not so familiar. With the arrival of a new Blu-Ray release
from Arrow Video I sat down to reacquaint myself with it for the first time in
several years and it all came back to me as to why I’ve not visited it often. On paper at least the script by
Argento and Dardano Sacchetti lays out all the key ingredients for a tasty
cocktail, so there’s little faulting it in that respect. But whereas the
director’s best gialli pivot on a burgeoning sense of urgency derived from the
misinterpretation of a witnessed moment, or perhaps a half-remembered clue,
this one’s a surprisingly sedate affair. Additionally, the film lacks the
outlandish plot, stylish camerawork and brutal murder sequences of its 70s
stablemates – never mind that it’s also missing a deliciously unhinged killer
lurking behind a veneer of respectability – and, let’s be honest, broadly
speaking it’s the canny employ of these elements in his pictures that helped
build Argento his fan base.
On a
frivolous note too, anyone going in with title-engendered anticipation of a
kinky sequence involving a dominatrix wielding said implement will come away
disappointed; as an analogy, The Living
Daylights springs to mind insomuch as, just as that film’s nonsensical title
(from the perspective of audiences unfamiliar with Fleming) was dealt with in a
single throwaway line, so The Cat O’Nine
Tails is incorporated into a frankly silly remark by Giordani.
Seriously
though, all these factors notwithstanding, perhaps most injurious of all is the
fact the movieis ponderously slow, more
methodical mystery-solver than knuckle-whitening chiller.
To clarify
my remark about those mundane murder scenes, with the exception of a well-staged
sequence when the killer dispatches a witness to his crimes by shoving him off
a station platform and under the wheels of an incoming locomotive, they really
do lack creativity. The absence of unflinchingly gruesome set pieces akin to
those in the like of Deep Red and Tenebrae is keenly felt; I’m afraid a
few garrotTings and an attempted poisoning with a carton of milk (no, really!) fail dismally to cut the
mustard. That said, there are some memorably unnerving close-ups of the
killer’s twitching eyeball as he sights out each victim and at least he himself
gets a suitably wince-inducing comeuppance.
James
Franciscus, fresh off of Beneath the
Planet of the Apes, makes Giordani a decent enough heroic lead, although
for my money he’s overshadowed where characterisation is concerned by a top-form
Karl Malden as Arno, conveying the sightless gaze of a blind man impeccably. If
anything makes the film work it’s the
chemistry between these two actors. So good are they together in fact that I’d
rather like to have seen Giordani and Arno team up on another investigation. In
any event, notable among the rest of the cast are Catherine Spaak (loveliness
incarnate as Giordani’s love interest) and little Cinzia De Carolis as Arno’s
devoted “seeing eyesâ€.
Jonathan Rigby’s American Gothic (Signum publishing) is a fascinating and idiosyncratic exploration of the American horror film, a genre which has inspired filmmakers to create some of the most memorable moments in cinema history. More than a simple encyclopaedia, the book charts the historical development of the genre through not only the classics such as Phantom of the Opera, Dracula and The Cat and the Canary, but also through the hundreds of cheaper independent films and supporting features which are often forgotten but are no less enjoyable. Each chapter, written in his inimitable prose style, covers a specific period and discusses in detail not only the films but the filmmakers, actors and studios involved. Rigby is not afraid to criticise films which many hold sacred, as well as finding positive aspects amongst the failures. Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi loom large of course, their enduring appeal spanning at least half of the period covered here. Having slipped almost inevitably from their 1930s heights into B-movie lows, Karloff still managed to maintain some level of dignity despite the cheapness of the material, whereas the same could not be said for Lugosi, who suffered the ultimate indignity of finishing his career in the Z-grade films of Edward D. Wood Jr.
Out of print for more than ten years, American Gothic has now been revised and expanded by Jonathan Rigby, completing his horror trilogy alongside English Gothic and Euro Gothic. What this book confirms is that American cinema has been the world’s leading producer of the horrific and terrifying, in sheer number if not always in quality. Whereas those other two books cover the entire history of film in their respective countries and continents, Rigby has had to curtail American Gothic’s coverage at 1959, arguably when things were about to get really interesting. This was perhaps as much for his own sanity as well as for the length of the book. With dozens of rare and exceptional film stills and publicity materials, American Gothic is an essential read for any serious enthusiast of horror or cinema history. Here’s hoping that Rigby will eventually pluck up the courage to tackle the next sixty years.
The
British sex film was a truly unique beast. Finding its feet at the back end of
the 1950s, proliferating throughout the 60s and 70s, and all but gone the way
of the dodo by the early 80s, sex may have been the selling point but scarcely
was it delivered upon. Usually depicting the act itself as a bit of a lark and
something to be sniggered at, due to restrictive British laws at the time the
menu in this country was mostly comprised of light titillation as opposed to
the more, er... shall we say ‘gratifying’ material being served up to European
and Stateside audiences. With little to see beyond pert pink posteriors and
bountiful bare bosoms, visuals whose stimulation value was already negligible were
often further quashed by the wince-inducing sound of a slide-whistle.
The
films that general audiences probably think of in regard to this period of time
– if indeed they think of them at all – are the likes of the Confessions
comedies, which is hardly surprising, for their appeal was unprecedented and
the first in the series, Val Guest’s Confessions of a Window Cleaner, was the
highest grossing British film of 1974. Yet looking at the 70s alone it’s
remarkable just how many light-hearted boobs’n’bums films were birthed. I
should know, I saw a fair few of them at a crummy, long-gone little cinema in
Winchester. Most of them were excruciatingly awful too, albeit in an inexplicably
endearing way.
In
1992 ‘Doing Rude Things’ by David McGillivray was published and at that point
was the only book of its kind. An assembly – and expansion upon – a series of
articles that had originally appeared in the short-lived ‘Cinema’ magazine 10
years earlier, it chronicled the highs and lows of almost a quarter of a
century’s worth of British sex films, from 1957’s Nudist Paradise to 1981’s
last gasp, Emmanuelle in Soho.
Now,
to those with a passion for British exploitation cinema the name David
McGillivray will be a familiar one. A former writer for, among others, the
BFI’s lamentably deceased ‘Monthly Film Bulletin’, he would go on to pen
scripts for such cinematic schlockers as House of Whipcord, Satan’s Slave and Schizo,
several of which also found him lurking on-screen in some minor capacity.
Associated in the main with the ilk of those aforementioned terrors, David’s single
foray into the arena of the 1970s sex film was the amusingly monikered comedy I’m
Not Feeling Myself Tonight, a frothy brew awash with familiar thespian talent
of the era. [Oh, yes, it should be mentioned that a plethora of household names
populated these critically dismissed but publicly embraced oddities. From
Bernard Lee and Arthur Askey to Irene Handl and Jon Pertwee, from Brian Murphy
and Barry Evans to Windsor Davies and Richard O’Sullivan, dozens of ‘respectable’
actors shelved their pride to participate in these movies. But then in the
clime of widespread unemployment that plagued the industry back then – and is regrettably
still rife – work was work and beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers.]
As well as being an
accomplished novelist and historian, Kim Newman has written a regular column in
Empire magazine for almost twenty
years covering the video (then DVD and eventually Blu-ray) releases no one else
wanted to watch. Rather than serve as an encyclopaedia, Kim Newman’s Video Dungeon: The Collected Reviews is organised, in
a somewhat idiosyncratic style, into thematic rather chapters than simply an
alphabetic or chronological presentation. His identification of recurring
genres or styles has allowed for chapters on “Confinements and Dangerous
games,†“Cryptids and Critters,†“Serial Killers and Cops†and “Weird Hippie
Sh*t,†amongst more recognisable genre descriptions such as “Found Footage,â€
“Famous Monsters†and “Secret Agent Men (and Women)†and others.
Spanning almost the
entire breadth of film history and encompassing productions from around the
globe, the reader is presented with hundreds of obscure titles alongside the
occasional classic. From silent film to spoofs and pornography, Kim Newman has
sat through over thirty films featuring Frankenstein and a similar amount
featuring Dracula. The trend for sharksploitation films, which still shows no
sign of abating, is particularly noticeable here as Kim Newman patiently
reviews dozens of films such as Sharkenstein
(2016), SharkExorcist (2015) and the infamous Sharknado series (2013-2016 so far). Refusing to fall into the film
historian’s trap of sneering at anything cheap or new, Kim Newman is fair to
each film he reviews, finding positive elements even in some found footage
films, despite having had to sit through so many.
Being a collection of
reviews of home video releases, there is also the occasional vintage gem in
here, such as Curse of Bigfoot (1975),
LasVampiras (1969) and Confessions
of anOpium Eater (1962). Indeed,
most of the films in the “Weird Hippie Sh*t†section, including Drive, He Said (1971), Toomorrow (1970), Wonderwall (1968) and Permissive
(1970) date from the hippie heyday itself.
Kim Newman’s writing
is distinctive and authoritative, with a gleeful sense of humour for the
absurd, which means that even when the films sound terrible, which they
occasionally do, the reviews are still entertaining to read. It is this skill
which has made his Video Dungeon
column in Empire so enjoyable over
the years, with trusted recommendations as to what to seek out, and what to
avoid. Kim Newman’s Video Dungeon: The
Collected Reviews is highly recommended, particularly for those who think
they have seen a lot of weird films over the years. The chances are high that
Kim Newman has seen more.
J.D.’s Revenge
was released by American International in 1976, just as the blaxploitation
sub-genre was pretty much tailing off and indeed when A.I.’s most prolific
years lay behind them. It was directed by Arthur Marks, best known to me for his
year earlier blaxploitation entry, Friday
Foster (headlining Pam Grier and Yaphet Kotto), but also notable as
writer/director on early 70s drive-in fodder such as Bonnie’s Kids and The
Roommates.
The story
opens with a fast-paced prologue set in 1942 New Orleans, during which a heated
argument in a meat-processing plant between Betty Jo Walker (Alice Jubert) and
Theotis Bliss (Fred Pinkard) culminates with him slitting her throat. The body
is discovered by her brother, scar-faced black-marketeer J.D. (David McKnight),
who’s mistaken for the killer by her boyfriend, Theotis’ brother Elija (Louis
Gossett), who promptly shoots J.D. dead. (Keeping up? This is the framework for
everything that follows.) We slingshot forward 34 years to present day and meet
Isaac ‘Ike’ Hendrix (Glynn Turman), cab driver by day, law student by night.
Out at a club with his girlfriend Christella (Joan Pringle) and some friends,
Ike gets up on stage to participate in a hypnosis act, but whilst he’s in a
trance his mind is infiltrated by the vengeful spirit of J.D. With increasing
frequency, the unhinged gangster intermittently seizes control of Ike, using
him as a tool to exact revenge upon Elija and Theotis, who’ve now moved up in
the world and – along with the former’s daughter Roberta (Jubert again) – are shamelessly
using a religious set-up as front for their criminal activities.
Scripted
by Jaison Starks, J.D.’s Revenge is a
gritty serving of schlock with a supernatural slant, serving up a banquet of
graphic bovine slaughter, un-PC dialogue, scathingly sexist attitude and more
than a splash of Dulux-variety bloodshed. Yet although it’s staged competently
enough, it falls shy of joining the ranks of the more thrilling blaxploitationers,
in fact on a couple of occasions it almost crosses the line into parody; it’s
hard not to smirk when Ike takes to strutting around togged up in unflattering,
ill-fitting 1940s regalia, whilst his frenetic cavorting during the climactic
face-off is truly bizarre. The only thing that rescues it from descending into
silliness is the omnipresent streak of nastiness against which the unfolding
events are juxtaposed. Nowhere is this more prevalent than a scene in which Ike
drastically changes his hairstyle; he looks utterly ridiculous and Christella
tells him so, but any urge on the viewer’s part to laugh is swiftly quelled as
Ike brutally strikes her down and rapes her. It’s one of a handful of unforgivably
misogynistic scenes that hamper producer-director Marks’s movie. To play fair, hard
as it may be for a young 21st century audience to comprehend, in
1976 such material was perfectly acceptable and the makers would simply have been
feeding demand; viewed 40 years on, however, there’s no disputing that it’s archaic
and makes for uncomfortable viewing.
At its
root, of course, Sparkes’s script is riffing on the hackneyed – though seldom
less than fun – Jekyll/Hyde formula, and
Turman does an excellent job of vacillating between the two diverse personas of
Ike and J.D. Nuances such as Ike absentmindedly running a finger across his
cheek where J.D. was scarred subtly add veracity to the notion he’s possessed.
Gossett meanwhile brings bags of energy to the table, particularly in the
scenes when he’s vigorously preaching to his flock, and both Pringle and Jubert
deliver admirable work. As an additional note on the cast, J.D.’s Revengefeatures what
was the second (and final) screen appearance of Ruth Kempf, who’d achieved
global recognition in her fleeting but memorable debut as novice pilot Mrs Bell
in Bond film Live and Let Die; it’s
fair to say, however, she’s left in far worse shape having crossed paths with
the possessed Ike than she was in the wake of her comparatively lightweight
encounter with 007!
The FX work,
when it isn’t bluntly quease-inducing, is nicely effective. Particularly striking
is an optical when Ike is stands before a shattered mirror and sees the
glowering visage of J.D. staring back at him.
A
chiller-thriller from the pen of Brian Clemens, 1971's See No Evil was a
notably lower-key affair for director Richard Fleischer, former helmer on such
celebrated cinematic epics as The Fantastic Voyage, Doctor Doolittle, Tora!
Tora! Tora! and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Which isn't to imply See No Evil is
inferior. Quite the contrary, in fact.
Left
blind after a horse-riding accident, Sarah (Mia Farrow) moves in with her Aunt
and Uncle, Betty and George Rexton (Dorothy Alison and Robin Bailey) and her
cousin Sandy (Diane Grayson) at their opulent riverside home. Familiar with the
geography of the sprawling house, Sarah is able to confidently go about coping with
her disability. Arriving home after spending the day with an old boyfriend, local
horse breeder Steve (Norman Eshley), Sarah believes the family to be out for
the evening and prepares for bed, unaware that in her absence all three have
been brutally murdered. She eventually stumbles upon the bodies and encounters
the mortally wounded gardener (Brian Robinson) whose dying words warn her that
the killer is certain to return to retrieve a damning piece of evidence he carelessly
left behind…
The
legendary Brian Clemens is probably best known as producer-writer on classic TV
show The Avengers, but he was also the mind behind a batch of very fine Brit
movie chillers, among them And Soon the Darkness, Dr Jekyll and Sister Hyde and
Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter, the latter which he also directed. His script
for See No Evil is an efficient little knuckle-whitener, questionable perhaps
only in the motivations of its wrongdoer. Is watching a couple of X-certificate
movies – in the opening scene the killer-to-be, face unseen, leaves a cinema screening
‘The Convent Murders’ and ‘Rapist Cult’ (both fictitious) – and getting one’s gaudy
cowboy boots splashed by a passing car really sufficient impetus for a murder
spree? Of course, no-one expects the bad guy in this type of movie to be sane,
but the heavy-handed message during the opening credits sequence that society’s
glorification of violence is the cause for what follows is pretty tenuous.
In
any event, See No Evil (which I first saw on late night TV as Blind Terror, its
original UK theatrical release title) is less of a tawdry exploitationer than
it might have been, making up for any perceived deficiency in that regard with
a goodly infusion of nerve-jangling suspense. Indeed, Fleischer and Clemens aim
for burgeoning ill-ease as opposed to gory spectacle and for my money they hit
the target square on. There are occasional moments of nastiness peppered
throughout – the sudden reveal of Sandy’s corpse, a haunting shot of George
immersed in a bathtub of bloody water – but they're fleeting and it’s fair to say
the film works primarily as an exercise in measured pacing and sustained
suspense. Take for example a protracted sequence in which Sarah goes about her daily
routine unaware that she's just feet away from the dead bodies of her family.
Throughout this stretch Fleischer toys mercilessly with the audience and Gerry
Fisher's cinematography really comes into its own as we're treated to a series
of impressive tracking shots, each homing in on a dropped or discarded item,
increasingly telegraphing the sense that something bad has happened, until the
eventual reveal of the Rextons’ corpses. Of course whilst we, the audience,
witness all this – including broken glass on the kitchen floor (which we just know
will be trodden on at some point and, in a wince-inducing moment, it is) –
poor, sightless Sarah sees none of it. Once she finally realises what's
happening the pace quickens and the story mutates into an extended game of cat
and (blind) mouse. There's a beautifully framed instance of tease when our
cowboy-booted killer climbs a flight of stairs; Sarah stands foreground, hidden
from him, and the camera circles so that whilst it remains focused on her it
simultaneously observes the killer's ascent. One can't help but strain to see
the face that remains tantalisingly out of shot! If the suspense loses momentum
a tad when Sarah's plight changes from being pursued by the murderer to an
unexpected ordeal instigated by a latecomer to the party, well, it's only a
minor blip.
UK release poster.
As
with any murder mystery worth its mettle there's a proliferation of suspects on
hand too – a gypsy encampment just down the lane from the Rexton abode offers
up a whole shoal of red herrings – and it’s not too surprising that one's eye
is frequently drawn to inspect a character’s footwear.
Mia
Farrow conveys blindness convincingly and Norman Eshley makes for a suitably
handsome hero, whilst Lila Kaye and a surly Michael Elphick stand out among the
myriad of gypsies. It’s nice to see Paul Nicholas and Christopher Matthews in
small but not insignificant roles. Elmer Bernstein furnishes the proceedings
with a lush score, although rather amusingly he can't help slipping into The
Magnificent Seven territory during a sequence when Sarah and Steve are out
riding on horseback.
“Only one thing counts: either you have money and
you’re someone, or you don’t have any and you’re a doormat.†So states Giulio
Sacchi (Tomas Milian), as he plans to kidnap the beautiful young daughter of a wealthy
business-owner. Together with two small-time hoods, who are more accustomed to
snatching purses than snatching rich girls, Sacchi hopes to take 500 million
lira, enough never to have to work again. Having grown up on the streets with
no parents or opportunity, Sacchi constantly rails against the system. He
believes he is a genius and can commit crime because the world owes him a
living; in reality he is short-tempered, dangerous and cowardly, as he proves
when he guns down a traffic officer whilst acting as getaway driver for a bank
robbery. This hasty murder brings swift police attention and the gang are
nearly caught, leading them to beat Sacchi and reject him from their organised
crime ring. This spurs him on to plan his perfect big score, but his short
temper causes him to leave a string of dead bodies in his wake, which soon
brings tough cop Walter Grandi (Henry Silva) hot on his trail.
Almost
Human may be derivative of the American cop thriller,
but it is also an exciting and shocking political critique of Italian society,
where women and children can be gunned down in cold blood and the police are
powerless to stop it unless they step outside the law they are sworn to
protect.
Director Umberto Lenzi is a legend of Italian
cinema. Like many who worked outside the arthouse or neo-realist traditions of
Visconti or Fellini, Lenzi made films within every popular genre from
sword-and-sandal to giallo, from sex comedies to cannibal horror. Like his
contemporaries he made whatever was popular, whether for the local or
international audiences, so his name can even be found on spy films like 008: Operation Exterminate (1965),
spaghetti westerns such as Pistol for a
Hundred Coffins (1968) and zombie splatterthons like the deliriously
ridiculous Nightmare City (1980). Shameless sat him down for an exclusive
interview for this new Blu-ray, which features an HD restoration from the
original negative. He is a fascinating figure whose career spans over fifty
years and he has plenty of stories to tell about his time in the film industry.
Also included are some archival interviews with Lenzi, co-star Ray Lovelock and
writer Ernesto Gastaldi, himself legendary in the Italy with over 100 film
credits. Tomas Milian, a Cuban-American who had a tremendous career both in
Europe and in the U.S, and who passed away earlier in 2017, is also interviewed
and proved himself to be equally entertaining as he was in his movies.
The Blu-ray comes in the traditional Shameless
yellow case with both original and alternative artwork. With a terrific
heavy-rock score from none other than Ennio Morricone, Almost Human is an exciting film from the golden period of Italian
exploitation cinema and is not to be missed.
A new poll finds that the majority of Millennials are shockingly unfamiliar with older, classic movies. The posting on the Cinema Retro Facebook page has set off a spirited discussion among our readers. People who live in major metropolitan areas may take issue with the poll's findings since young people routinely attend screenings of classic movies at revival cinemas. The Alamo Drafthouse chain of cinemas has been especially effective at exposing younger audiences to retro movie classics and cult films. Yes, Netflix and other streaming services make plenty of retro movie classics available to viewers of all ages everywhere. But in major cities, younger people tend to view going to see a classic film from the past as a social activity, often going in groups to theaters with funky themes. It may be, however, that people who live in more rural areas don't have the same opportunities to see older films on the big screen, therefore they are not as familiar with them. Click here to read article.
Explosive Media, the German based boutique video label, has released the 1975 Charles Bronson crime thriller "Breakout" on Blu-ray. Bronson was riding high at the time, coming off the sensational success of "Death Wish". The film was originally supposed to star Kris Kristofferson under the direction of Michael Ritchie but those plans soon fell apart. Bronson took over the lead role with veteran director Tom Gries at the helm. The film finds Bronson well-cast as Nick Colton, a shady businessman/con man/grifter who operates a variety of small time business ventures on the Mexican border with his partner Hawk Hawkins (pre-kooky Randy Quaid.) Nick is living hand-to-mouth when he is approached by Ann Wagner (Jill Ireland) with a proposition to help her husband, Jay (Robert Duvall), escape from a Mexican prison where he has been sentenced after being framed for a murder. Time is of the essence because Jay is in declining health and may well be too weak to help effect his own escape. Colton and Hawk's first attempt to spring him ends disastrously and they barely escape back to America. Colton concocts an audacious plan for a second escape attempt that involves split-second timing. He will arrange for a helicopter to land in the courtyard of the prison and in the inevitable confusion, Jay is to make his way on board and presumably fly away to freedom. In order to pull off the caper, Nick enlists the help of a professional helicopter pilot as well as Myrna (Sheree North), a married ex-call girl who will be used to distract some of the guards when the copter lands inside the prison. When the pilot gets cold feet, Nick is forced to fly the chopper himself despite the fact that he only has minimum experience doing so. Another complication ensues when Jay is confined to the prison hospital and doubts he will be able to be in the courtyard at the precise moment Colton lands.
"Breakout" was inspired by an incredible 1971 real life escape in which an American was indeed rescued by helicopter from a Mexican prison. The screenplay has some other sub-plots that are poorly developed and quite confusing, but some of which are obviously related to the actual escape including some rumored involvement by the CIA. In the film, Jay Wagner's frame-up takes place at the behest of his evil tycoon grandfather, Harris Wagner (John Huston) for reasons that never become clear. Apparently, Harris is concerned that Jay may inherit some control over the company Harris runs with an iron fist, though these plot points remain murky as does the involvement of some CIA characters. Another potential plot device, which finds Nick and Ann obviously attracted to each other, also goes nowhere. The film has a rushed look to it and there are some unsatisfying aspects caused by the movie's rather abrupt ending. The movie studio, Columbia, apparently felt the film was a rather weak production and thus gambled on a massive ad campaign that probably cost more than the film's modest budget. Ads for "Breakout" were everywhere: in newspapers, on TV and on radio. Additionally, the film opened wide in 1,000 American theaters, which was a big number in 1975. The movie was dismissed by critics with Variety calling it a "cheap exploitation pic", and indeed the main poster artwork and graphics looked surprisingly amateurish considering this was a golden age for film poster designs. Nevertheless, Bronson's appeal seemed to override these negative factors. "Breakout" proved to be a major hit and helped cement his status as a top boxoffice attraction though his clout would gradually diminish henceforth.
Like a lot of older movies, "Breakout" probably plays better today than it did at the time of its initial release. Bronson is in top form and gives an unusually energetic performance that allows him to stress his rarely-used talent for light comedy. The only other standout member of the cast is Sheree North, as the epitome of the sexy cougar. She's a fast-talking, tough cookie who parades about in sexy lingerie in an attempt to seduce Bronson. (Surprisingly, Bronson's character does not engage in any sexual action throughout the movie.) Robert Duvall is largely underutilized in a low-key role and performance that could have been credibly played by almost any other competent actor. Huston's presence in the movie is disappointing, also. His role is confined to a few scattered cameo appearances that probably don't last more than two minutes. Some other familiar faces include Paul Mantee, Alejandro Rey, Roy Jenson and the Mexican cinema's favorite bad guy, Emilio Fernandez. As for Bronson teaming for the umpteenth time with real life wife Jill Ireland, the gimmick was wearing thin. Some screen couples could team without wearing out their welcome. Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton made many films together but they were always playing entirely different characters in entirely different scenarios. Bronson and Ireland, despite being competent actors, were no Liz and Dick. It became clear that their films together were largely made possible by Bronson's clout with the studios. Although Ireland always gave credible performances, she never lit up the screen. After a while the sheer predictability of their on-screen teamings probably undermined Bronson's popularity because it constrained him from interacting with other actresses. It was a trap Clint Eastwood also fell into for a period of time when he cast Sondra Locke in the female lead in six of his movies over a period of only seven years. Despite these gripes, it must be said that director Tom Gries keeps the pace moving briskly and there isn't a dull moment. He also knows how to milk some genuine suspense out of the helicopter escape scene, which is exceptionally well photographed by the great cinematographer Lucien Ballard. Jerry Goldsmith also contributes a typically fine score. The movie was shot in a wide number of locations including California, Mexico, Spain and France, where the impressive edifice that serves as the prison is located.
Scene stealer: Sheree North in posed cheesecake publicity photo for the film.
The Explosive Media Blu-ray looks terrific and contains the original trailer and an impressive stills gallery. The film is presented in either the English or German language versions. The region-free Blu-ray can be ordered through Amazon Germany or through Amazon UK.
Although
it was actually his second film, 1988’s Stormy Monday marked the big screen debut of Mike Figgis; his
earlier feature, four years prior, was made for television. Given that it
was essentially a debut, though, the cast that the director managed to assemble
was quite remarkable; Tommy Lee Jones, Melanie Griffith, Sting and Sean Bean
(who looks about 18 but was actually 29) headline in a grim tale of corruption
set against the nightclub scene in Newcastle. With almost every frame screaming
1980s – from the neon-tube title emblazoned across the screen to Bean’s
trousers and Griffiths’ hairdo – the blend of jazz and sax-infused score
affords the proceedings a vaguely noir vibe. Unfortunately little of the above
provides sufficient grist to save the resulting film from the morass of
mediocrity.
In the
midst of a week of festivities celebrating everything American, drifter Brendan
(Bean) gets a job as a cleaner at the Key Club, a successful jazz nightspot
owned by Finney (Sting). Brendan clicks with his employer who quickly identifies
the lad as someone he can trust, with more worth to him than someone sluicing
vomit off the toilet floor. Finney is currently being harassed by shady
American businessman Cosmo (Jones) to sell him the club. As a man whose first
tactic is to send in the heavies to mete out a little physical persuasion, Cosmo
will clearly stop at nothing to get what he wants. Brendan meets and enters
into a relationship with waitress Kate (Griffith), but he's unaware that she's
affiliated with Cosmo…
Now, I accept
that I’m in the minority, but I should say upfront that I've never been able to
engage with Stormy Monday on any
significant level. Its pacing is just that little too sedate and it's gloomy to
the point of depressing. There’s also a serious dearth of likeable characters;
in a film of this ilk there should always be someone to root for, and the absence of sympathetic characters
completely undermines a climactic sting (lame pun intentional), robbing it of
the dramatic weight and emotional heft it desperately cries out for.
Yet the
real stumbling block for me is the insipid performances. Sting is a terrific
musician, but I've never found him a particularly compelling screen presence
and his dialogue delivery here is shallow and unconvincing. Injuriously though,
he's only one among a number of surprising offenders. Jones too – a marvellous
actor with a bevy of splendid character performances under his belt – exudes
disinterest and proves frustratingly bland. Most disappointing in this respect,
however, is Griffith, who I absolutely adored back in the 80s; the same year as
Stormy Monday she appeared in The Milagro Beanfield War and Working Girl, the latter for which she
was Best Actress Oscar nominated; such a lacklustre turn sandwiched between two
such outstanding ones is a bitter pill to swallow. It may well be that these
underwhelming performances are a reflection of (what I consider to be) the colourless
narrative that the characters populate. I can’t decide, because Bean – in the
infancy of what would build into an impressive screen career – is decent
enough, with all the signs of a star in the making in evidence and there are
also small but memorable roles for Alison Steadman and James Cosmo (as a
deliciously simmering psychotic). Bond buffs meanwhile will want to keep an eye
open for Clive Curtis, Dulice Liecier (fresh off her glam CIA agent spin in The Living Daylights) and Prunella Gee.
So is
there nothing worth dipping in to Stormy
Monday for? I honestly feel there isn’t. Roger Deakins' cinematography is
suitably moody, and those familiar with Newcastle might glean some pleasure
from the extensive location footage of the great City as it looked three
decades past. But beyond that, this one’s probably for diehard fans of the
actors within and Figgis completists only. Said
completists will doubtless be delighted with the fine new hi-definition Blu-Ray
release of the film from Arrow Video. Supplements are slender but add value; along
with a Figgis audio commentary moderated by Damon Wise, there's a 33-minute
retrospective documentary in which critic Neil Young discusses the film at
length whilst strolling around some of the film's locations, a stills gallery
and the original theatrical trailer. The release includes reversible sleeve art
and a limited edition collectors' booklet.
Dario Argento – whose directorial career has
now spanned almost 50 years, positioning him as a genuine icon of terror cinema
– is probably best associated with his clutch of intoxicatingly imaginative chillers,
each of them ornamented with brutal (and increasingly graphic) murder scenarios,
stylishly lurid lighting schemes and wildly inventive camerawork.
Throughout the second half of the 1960s
Argento had found a degree of success in writing stories and screenplays for movies;
he most famously worked alongside Sergio Leone for 1968's Once Upon a Time in the West. But it was taught 1970 thriller The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (o.t. L'uccello dalle piume di cristallo) that
marked his debut in the director’s chair and set him on the path to becoming
the Godfather of the giallo.
Sam Dalmas (Tony Musante), an American
writer currently residing in Rome, walks past a brightly lit art gallery late
one night and sees inside a shadowy figure, clad in black, stabbing a woman.
Attempting to intervene, Dalmas manages to get himself trapped in the entrance
between two sets of locked sliding doors, unable to prevent the assailant from
fleeing and helpless to assist the woman left bleeding to death on the floor.
Fortunately, aid arrives and the woman – Monica Ranieri (Eva Renzi), wife of
the gallery's owner – survives. It transpires that Monica was the almost-victim
in a series of attacks that have left several beautiful women dead. Dalmas becomes
obsessed with the case, replaying what he saw over and over in his head,
convinced that he's missing a vital clue to solving the mystery. But in getting
involved he inadvertently sets himself up as a target for the killer.
Argento not only directed but also wrote The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (basing
it thematically on a 1949 pulp novel, “The Screaming Mimiâ€, by Frederic Brown).
He would go on to make better movies but for a debut feature this really is an
exemplary piece of film-making, bearing many of the embryonic flourishes – clearly
influenced by the works of Alfred Hitchcock and Mario Bava – that would later
become his trademark; specifically the faceless, black-gloved killer whose
nefarious activities are often shot POV and, on a more cerebral level, the misperception
of a witnessed moment, with characters struggling to retrieve a clue buried in
their subconscious, the significance of which failed to register upon them when
initially glimpsed. These recurrent themes would play out to varying degrees of
success in many of Argento's later films, most significantly Four Flies on Grey Velvet (o.t. 4 mosche di velluto grigio, 1971), Cat o'Nine Tails (o.t. Il gatto a nove code, 1971), Deep Red (o.t. Profondo rosso, 1975, considered by many to be the greatest of all
the Italian gialli), Tenebrae (o.t. Tenebre, 1982), Phenomena (1985), Opera (1987),
Trauma (1993), The Stendhal Syndrome (o.t. La
sindrome di Stendhal, 1996), Sleepless
(o.t. Non ho sonno, 2001), The Card Player (o.t. Il cartaio, 2004), Do You Like Hitchcock? (o.t. Ti
piace Hitchcock, 2005) and Giallo
(2009).
The Bird with the Crystal Plumage itself is a masterpiece of sustained
suspense. The escalating tension during a scene in which the hero's girlfriend
(Suzy Kendall) is menaced by the killer – who uses a large kitchen knife to
methodically chip away at the lock on her apartment door – is as perfect an
example as one could wish for as to why Argento is often referenced as the
Italian Hitchcock. The violence – notably an out-of-shot vaginal stabbing – was
transgressive for its day, and in spite of the fact that far more shocking
atrocities have been unflinchingly splashed across the screen in the decades
since, several moments in Argento's fledgling offering still pack quite a visceral
punch.
For the
benefit of those unfamiliar with the events that preceded The Amityville Horror’s arrival on screen, I'll start with a little
backstory. In November 1974 one Ronald DeFeo murdered six members of his family
in their home at 112 Ocean Avenue on Long Island, New York. 13 months later
George and Kathleen Lutz, along with her three children from a previous
marriage, moved in; unperturbed by the gruesome events of a year earlier, they
had purchased the property at a bargain price. The family fled the premises
just shy of a month later, claiming to have experienced a succession of
terrifying paranormal events. Their experiences soon became the subject of a
book by Jay Anson, published in 1977. Following extensive studies by a number
of parapsychology experts, many of the Lutzes stories would later be debunked,
but at the time the couple became something of a media sensation. Director
Stuart Rosenberg's film – which, as movies will, played a little economical
with the facts (at least as they were laid out in Anson's book) – was released
in 1979 and not only proved to be a major hit for American International
Pictures but was one of the highest grossing ever independents to that time.
So, did any of those paranormal incidents really take place, or was it all just
canny media manipulation? George and Kathleen are dead, both having passed away
prematurely in 2006 and 2004, respectively, so the true story will probably
never be known. But that house on Ocean Avenue has changed hands five times
since the Lutzes left – with the owners having modified the building's facade
and getting the address legally changed in a bid to dissuade tourists from
pestering them – and there has never been another report of an untoward
occurrence. One can make of that what one will. In any event, back in the 70s
George and Kathleen Lutz appeared to enjoy the attention their alleged
misfortune brought them and considerable monies were generated. And at the end
of the day the possibility that, actually, it wasn't all a hoax affords the whole business an enduring appeal.
Rosenberg's film spawned a dozen spin-offs and sequels and was itself remade in
2005. On a final historical note, in a 1980 episode of the British TV series Hammer House of Horror entitled The House That Bled to Death a family are
driven out of their new home in the wake of a number of paranormal events. They
sell their story for a substantial sum and the tale ends with them living a
life of luxury and the revelation that they fabricated everything for the
money, although there's one final devilish twist in which...well, I won't ruin
it here; those interested in the Amityville phenomenon, on which The House That Bled to Death was clearly
riffing, will find it well worth seeking out.
But back
to the 1979 film itself. I first saw The
Amityville Horror theatrically (twice) upon its initial UK release early in
1980 – six months after its US opening the previous summer. Although its
effervescence has diminished somewhat in the intervening years, back then the
belief that I was witnessing what were supposedly true events added a distinct
frisson to the proceedings.
Recently
married George and Kathy Lutz (James Brolin and Margot Kidder) move into a
large property on Long Island, the site of a familial massacre just a year
earlier. A succession of relatively minor incidents – inexplicable odours,
toilet bowls ejaculating viscous black gunge – begin to tarnish the happy
household, and George's health plummets. After priest and friend of the family
Father Delaney (Rod Steiger) is driven out by an unseen presence whilst he's in
the process of blessing the house, the abnormal occurrences intensify and it
becomes apparent that the residue of something evil is at work. When George's mood
darkens and his sanity begins to unravel, Kathy starts to fear for the lives of
her entire family.
The Amityville Horror
was co-produced by Elliot Geisinger and Ronald Saland, known primarily for a
number of behind-the-scenes shorts they directed and produced throughout the
60s and 70s. But the name that stands out here is that of executive producer
Samuel Z Arkoff, instantly recognisable to movie buffs from Vincent Price
horrors (Cry of the Banshee, The Abominable Dr Phibes and its sequel,
Dr Phibes Rises Again), through
blaxploitation classics (Coffy, Blacula, Slaughter) to clunky monster flicks (The People That Time Forgot, The
Food of the Gods, Empire of the Ants);
if Arkoff's name was on it you always knew you were in for a fun ride. And The Amityville Horror is nothing if not
that.
Director
Stuart Rosenberg, working from a Sandor Stern screenplay, conjures up an
efficient little creepy embroidered with all the standard haunted house tropes;
bumps in the night, thunderstorms, blood-spattered dream sequences, bricked-up
cubbyholes, tormented babysitters, and at one point the hoariest of them all,
the sudden appearance of a howling cat. But there are also enough genuinely efficacious
jumps and starts throughout to keep viewers on their toes. The whole shebang
gets strong backing from a terrific Lalo Schifrin score, its haunting (no pun
intended) nursery rhyme theme – the sound of chanting children set against low
strings combining to invoke a crawling sense of ill-ease – surely ranking among
the composer's finest works. It was Oscar-nominated for Best Original Score of
1979 but lost out to George Delerue's A
Little Romance.
Spending
a good portion of my high school years devouring the paperback reprints of the
Doc Savage pulp novels of the 1930s and '40s, the George Pal-produced “Doc
Savage: The Man Of Bronze,†is a bit of a bitter pill to swallow. The film gets
just enough right to show tantalizing promise only to snatch that away with
what it gets wrong.
Summoned
back to his Manhattan skyscraper headquarters from his arctic retreat where he
was using the isolation to perform some experiments, scientist and adventurer
Clark “Doc†Savage Jr. meets with his five closest friends and adventuring
companions to be told that his father has died while in the small South
American country of Hildago. However, the reunion between Doc and his aides –
known as the Fabulous Five – is interrupted by an assassination attempt carried
out by a native from a South American tribe Doc can't identify. Surmising that
his father's death was not from natural causes, the group head to Hidalgo to
investigate. There they encounter the villainous Captain Seas (Paul Wexler),
who with government functionary Don Rubio Gorro (Bob Corso), is trying to steal
land that was granted to Doc's father by the leaders of the long lost Mayan
tribe, the Quetzamal. Doc, his aides and Mona, Don Rubio Gorro's truehearted
assistant, head inland to the Quetzamal's hidden village to stop Seas and
Gorro's attempt to steal the gold of the Quetzamal for themselves.
In
broad strokes, the script captures the globetrotting nature of many of the
early Doc pulp stories published by Street & Smith between 1933 and 1949.
The film's overall plot is taken directly from the first first Doc Savage yarn
published in March 1933, also titled “The Man Of Bronze.†But readers of the
old pulps will perhaps recognize that
writer Joe Morhaim and Pal have grafted onto the screenplay some elements from
a couple of other Savage stories, most notably “The Green Death†(November
1938), “The Mystic Mullah†(January 1935) and “Mystery Under The Sea†(February
1936).
The
film does sport a wonderful cast. Ron Ely is as probably as close to the pulps'
description of Doc Savage as Hollywood is likely to get, the visual of him
standing on the running-board of a touring car as it races through the streets
of Manhattan (or more accurately, Warner Brothers' New York City backlot) is an
image brought to life directly out of the pulps. And Ely plays the role with a
sincerity that at times feels as if it goes against the grain of the campy tone
director Michael Anderson is attempting. The casting for Doc's five aides are
all equally physically spot on. Those who did their teen years in the 1980s
will probably get a kick out of seeing Paul Gleason as one of Doc's aides a
full decade before he was tormenting teens at Saturday detention in “The
Breakfast Club.†Pam Hemsley as Mona appears much more wholesome here than she
would just a few years later as space vamp Princess Ardala on NBC's “Buck
Rogers In The 25th Century.†Horror fans may enjoy a rather atypical
appearance from future “The Hills Have Eyes†star Michael Berryman.
Pal
certainly lavished some money on the production, at least in spots. There is
some great location photography for both Doc's approach to his Fortress of
Solitude in the beginning of the film and when Doc and his aides are trekking
across South America to the Valley of the Vanished. Less convincing is the
set-bound look of the lost Quetzamal tribe's lost valley. (See the latest issue
of CinemaRetro for more on the making of the film.)
So
why did “Doc Savage: The Man Of Bronze,†flop so hard when released? Perhaps it
was the wrong movie at the wrong time. The fall of Saigon and the end of the
Vietnam War was just a little over a month in the past when the film hit
theaters in June of 1975. The country was in a malaise and a movie wasn't going
to snap it out of its funk until “Star Wars†comes along in another two years.
It may also have been overshadowed by the release of “Jaws†the same month,
which sapped much of the oxygen out of the adventure film market To a cynical and war-weary nation, the film's
simplistic pre-Depression era idea of good guys and bad guys perhaps was seen
as naive, if not downright laughable. Moments when the film dips into camp –
such as the Doc's apparent need to slap his stylized logo on all his equipment
or Don Rubio Gorro's weird diaper and giant crib fetish – probably felt like a
way too late attempt to cash in on the campy Adam West “Batman†TV series which
had been off the air for years by this
time. Ultimately, tone is the biggest
thing that works against the film and it should be interesting to see how
writer/director Shane Black will handle it if his planned Doc Savage movie ever
gets out of development.
Warner
Archive’s new Blu-ray 1080p transfer from the film's original inter-positive does a
good job showcasing the cinematography of Fred J. Koenekamp , who was fresh off
his Academy Award-winning work on “The Towering Inferno.†The only extra
feature on the disc is a trailer, which shows some definite wear around the
edges.
CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM THE CINEMA RETRO MOVIE STORE
Titling a film is no
trivial matter, especially from a marketing perspective. As history has proven,
there have been numerous films made which have little more to offer than a cracking
title. A really sharp one can help sell the poorest product, conversely a
stellar piece of movie-making can be undermined by something uninspired. When
you're trying to make your movie stand out in a marketplace awash with
alternatives, an attention-grabbing title is a crucial consideration and you'll
probably be aiming for something that harbours intrigue, allure, and is capable
of fostering curiosity and anticipation. When it was first unleashed
theatrically in 1985, Howling II: Stirba –
Werewolf Bitch was certainly an attention-grabber. Whether the film itself
turned out to be good, bad or indifferent, as enticing titles go the suffix Stirba – Werewolf Bitch sure did the
job, sending out a premium come and see me
you know you want to invitation with the promise of a no-nonsense serving
of lycanthropic flesh-munching and raunchy bodice-ripping, elements on which it
most certainly delivered. So, given that said title was suitably
efficacious, one has to wonder why someone later thought it was a good idea to
alter it to Your Sister is a Werewolf,
a moniker conveying more than a whiff of lightweight teen comedy – perhaps
something akin to the same year's Michael J Fox headliner Teen Wolf – as opposed to that of spicy horror movie. C'est la vie.
Following the funeral of
his sister Karen, Ben White (Reb Brown) is approached by occult scholar Steffan
Crosscoe (Christopher Lee), who informs him that his sibling was a werewolf and
submitted herself willingly to death. Dismissing these claims as balderdash,
White's scepticism is quashed when he witnesses a werewolf attack first hand.
Crosscoe subsequently tells White that the 10th Millennium of lycanthrope queen
Stirba (Sybil Danning) is imminent and on that night, beneath the glow of a
full moon, all werewolves will reveal themselves. To avert this catastrophe
Stirba must die. White and journalist Jenny Templeton (Annie McEnroe) set off
with Crosscoe to Transylvania to seek out the location of Stirba's coven and
destroy her. However, Crosscoe is withholding a personal reason for wanting the
werewolf queen dead.
Any sequel to Joe Dante's
1981 epic The Howling was going to be
facing an uphill struggle in terms of emulating its verve and director Philippe
Mora's Howling II: Your Sister is a
Werewolf certainly lives up to expectation on that account. Which isn't to
imply for one moment that it isn't entertaining; there's a lot of fun to be
had here, even if much of it is of the so-bad-it's-good variety. The draw
here for many viewers will be the significant participation of Christopher Lee.
For such an erudite man, Lee made some curious film choices throughout his long
and varied career; one supposes that in such a competitive profession – and one
burdened by rife unemployment – regardless of how demeaning it might be work
was work. Howling II wasn't among Lee’s
more questionable judgment calls but neither is it up there among the myriad of
cherries populating his CV. Regardless, consummate professional that he was, he
never gave less than 100% and with Howling
II he brings a degree of gravitas and worth to a film whose biggest crime
is not so much being bad as being rather unremarkable. Given what Lee brings to
the show, it's a shame that co-stars Reb Brown and Annie McEnroe prove so
unengaging. It would be easy to blame the slightly hackneyed dialogue – the
script was a collaborative effort between Gary Brandner (who also authored a
number of “Howling†novels) and Robert Sarno – but when you consider that
Lee managed to work his lines into something halfway decent that's not really a
valid excuse. The odd thing is that both Brown and McEnroe are competent enough
performers, as can be witnessed in some of their other films, so quite why
they’re so ineffectual here is frankly baffling. Regardless, any shortcomings are
compensated for by fine turns from the striking Sybil Danning in the titular
Stirba/sister role, Judd Omen as her swarthy aide Vlad and a sizzling Marsha A
Hunt (who's hotter than a jalapeño both in and out of her clothing). Brief but
noteworthy input too from Jimmy Nail and Ferdy Mayne, although the latter's
transformation into beast of the night is memorable for the wrong reason, his freaky
but unthreatening make-up and the fact he's wearing a flat cap combining to provoke
inadvertent chuckles.
A wonderfully understated comedy-drama, The
Electric Horseman follows the story of Sonny Steele (Robert Redford), a five-time
champion rodeo cowboy now turned brand spokesman for AMPco, a giant corporate
firm selling 'Ranch' breakfast cereal. Steele's
life has become essentially a series of advertising appearances, at which he is
required to brandish a box of cereal with his face adorning it whilst wearing a
garish cowboy outfit festooned with electric fairy lights. The forced smiles, autographs and constant
touring are starting to crack Steele; when we meet him, he is a disillusioned,
unreliable drunk, stumbling from one engagement to the next.
The film centres around a big Las Vegas
convention where Steele is booked for a ride-on appearance with AMPco's prize mascot,
a 12-million-dollar racehorse. Horse and
rider are strapped up in purple paisley silk and electric lights, the
ridiculous spectacle of which, in the capital of sensational fakery and
money-worship, proves to be the final straw for Steele. Appalled that the horse (a past champion like
himself) has been drugged in order to fulfil the appearance, Steele decides
then and there to ride him off into the desert and away from the bright lights
of Vegas and the public eye. It is here
the film really begins, as investigative journalist Hallie Martin (Jane Fonda)
picks up Sonny Steele's story and pursues his mission to restore the horse to
freedom.
In tracking down and following Sonny, Hallie
becomes impressed with his knowledge of animals, nature and the land; he is indeed
no fake but a 'real' cowboy in the most nostalgic sense; looking back to an
innocent, forgotten America. As Sonny
and Hallie drop their guards, against astounding mountainous scenery they sing 'American the Beautiful', unashamed and
without irony: "O beautiful for spacious skies/For amber waves of grain/For
purple mountain majesties...". Nonetheless,
there is little schmaltz to be found here; no overbearing passionate Hollywood
drama; Fonda's character is reminded by Sonny that there is no need for
pretension with him, "It's not gonna be on television".
Sonny's attempts to liberate the horse is
also a way of trying to free himself; from the world of fame and commerce, from
which he shuns further attention. The
kinship Sonny feels for the horse spreads beyond the screen; his nursing of the
animal in the film is detailed and attentive and in real life, Redford not only
did all his own riding stunts but, apparently, loved the horse so much he
brought it home and kept it for the rest of its life.
At its core, the story is really one of
authenticity; the world of money and business, bright lights and fakery versus
nature, friendship and the great outdoors. Sonny's faithful friend and manager Wendell is played by Willie Nelson
(in his feature debut, reputedly ad-libbing most of his dialogue), bringing
further authenticity to the cowboys; Wendell and Sonny, after yet another
dispiriting tour date, drunkenly sing a song Nelson himself had a recent chart
hit with: "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys/'Cause They'll
Never Stay Home and They're Always Alone".
There are no shootouts, saloons or spurs in
the language here, but aspiration to a gentle caring spirit and understanding
of nature and the outdoors. The only
'bad guys' are the heads of corporations who care only for profit, represented in
the film by an unusually cold, steely faced John Saxon. For its grand themes, director Pollack delivers
them in an oblique and unassuming way; the sound design during scenes in Las
Vegas has slot machines and tannoy announcements, disconcertingly, almost as
loud as the dialogue itself, which only emphasises the clarity, stillness and
simplicity of scenes in the great outdoors.
There are lots of great comic moments and
funny, sharply delivered lines; no less than you might expect from repartee
between Redford and Fonda, who had previously co-starred in The Chase and Barefoot
in the Park. Valerie Perrine (memorable
as Ms. Teschemacher in 1978's Superman) also plays a notable supporting role as
Sonny's soon-to-be ex-wife and Wilfrid Brimley (Cocoon) plays a marvellously
modest but key supporting role. For fans
of 1970s kitsch, there is a bit of everything here that you might expect from
the era; from cowboy rodeos and disco dancing Vegas showgirls to a full on horse-race
multi-car chase à la The Dukes of Hazzard (with one especially impressive
stunt, culminating in one police car tearing along whilst carrying another,
upside down, on top of it!).
The screener copy available for review of
this re-release had no menu or extras, but the picture quality is excellent and
does justice to the stunning cinematography of both the Vegas spectacle and its
vast surrounding desert scenery.
Attending
a film festival in the mid-seventies, Sam Peckinpah was once questioned about
how the studios regularly bastardised his vision, his intension and more
specifically, if he would ever be able to make a ''pure Peckinpah'' picture. He
replied, '’I did 'Alfredo Garcia' and I did it exactly the way I wanted to.
Good or bad, like it or not, that was my film.''
The overall
narrative for Alfredo Garcia is neither complicated nor convoluted. Warren
Oates plays Bennie, a simple pianist residing in a squalid barroom in Mexico.
He is approached by two no-nonsense Americans (Robert Webber and Gig Young) who
are attempting to track down Alfredo Garcia. The womanising Garcia is the man
responsible for the pregnancy of Theresa (Janine Maldonado) the teenage
daughter of a powerful Mexican boss El Jefe (Emilio Fernández). In a display of
power, El Jefe offers $1,000,000 for the delivery of Garcia’s head. Bennie is
unaware of the true bounty, but fully aware that his girlfriend, local prostitute
Elita (Isela Vega) was once involved with Garcia. More importantly, Bennie also
knows that Garcia is in fact, already dead. Bennie recognises this as a way
out, a one off payday opportunity and convinces Elita to take him to Garcia’s
burial place. His plan is to dig up the body, cut off the head and collect on
his fee, an agreed $10,000. Elita shows some hesitancy, and before long the
heavy drinking, paranoiac aspects of Bennie begin to suspect that Elita still
carries feelings for the dead Garcia. After an arduous and testing car journey
they both finally reach their destination, a place where their plans will take
a devastating and unsuspecting twist.
Arrow
has delivered a new 4K restoration from the original camera negative. The
overall image is beautifully presented and a great deal cleaner than previously
seen. Dirt, debris and all other manner of light wear have now been removed. As
Arrow points out, there are some minor instances of density fluctuation and
photochemical damage, but these really are not distracting. I noticed slight
fluctuations during the torture of Theresa, but this is arguably due to the
condition of the original film elements and to be expected. More importantly it
does not distract from the overall presentation of the film. One could even
suggest that such minor defects are perfectly suited and in line with the
gritty, sweat soaked ambience that Peckinpah arguably sought to present. The 4K
scan has been fully justified and as a result the level of detail has been
greatly improved without ever compromising or hampering the genuine celluloid
look – an element so essential to a movie such as Alfredo Garcia. Colours retain
a realistic and natural quality, almost dry and dusty as opposed to a sun
drenched and over cooked. Thankfully, Arrow has also resisted the temptation to
beef up the audio, so don’t go looking for a falsely created 5.1 mix. Alfredo Garcia was recorded in mono, so purists
will be delighted with the original 1.0 mono mix transferred from the original
35mm single stripe magnetic track. The audio elements are also clean, dynamic and
hold a consistent level of clarity throughout.
Peckinpah on the set in Mexico.
Heading
the extras on disc one are two excellent audio commentaries. The first is a new
and exclusively recorded commentary by Stephen Prince, author of Savage Cinema:
Sam Peckinpah and the Rise of Ultraviolent Movies. Prince’s narration looks
closely at Peckinpah’s philosophy and theory. It’s a commentary that also
examines the characters to some depth. It also encourages you to think and ask
questions. There are also more generalised observations from Prince involving
the story, in particular the scene with the two bikers (played by Kris Kristofferson
and Donnie Fritts). It’s a scene which has always bothered me, and serves no real
importance to the story. So it was pleasing to hear that Prince agrees, and
that it provides very little - other than slowing down the pace and the
narrative. I don’t mind either film philosophy or debate, but I occasionally
believe it sometimes has a tendency to overstretch or lose itself in some strange
form of self-consumption. Nevertheless, Prince’s commentary does keep your
attention throughout and provides plenty of food for thought.
The
second audio commentary is moderated by film historian Nick Redman and features
Sam Peckinpah scholars Paul Seydor, Garner Simmons and David Weddle. This
commentary first appeared on the Twilight Time Encore Edition Blu-ray and works
extremely well. The advantage of course, is that it provides various different
perspectives and viewpoints. For instance, on this occasion, the same Kristofferson
and Fritts biker scene results in a clear difference of opinion. We, the viewer
are offered a perfectly logical and justified reasoning for this scene, in that
Bennie is provided with the opportunity ‘walk the walk’ rather than just ‘talk
the talk’. The implication of the scene, along with a contrasting perspective
of its inclusion, suddenly offers something new to digest and signifies perhaps
a different level to Bennie’s character. Seydor, Simmons and Weddle are not
afraid of arguing their opinions, but also retain a clear respect for each
other’s knowledge and understanding. It’s a perfect ensemble of experts, each
of whom is clearly on top of their subject.
Sam
Peckinpah: Man of Iron is Paul Joyce’s feature-length (93minutes) 1993
documentary featuring interviews with James Coburn, Kris Kristofferson, Monte
Hellman, Ali MacGraw, Jason Robards and many others. Its inclusion on Arrow’s
special edition marks the first time it is available on home video in the UK.
The documentary was released prior on Criterion’s Straw Dogs (1971) DVD release
but omitted some film clips due to copyright and reduced the running time by
some 10 minutes. Man of Iron is a very personal and enjoyable reflection of the
man and told by the people that knew him best. It is a brutally honest account
which shows Peckinpah, not only for his craftsmanship, but also for his flaws,
for which there were many. As gifted as Peckinpah was, there are also accounts
of his cruelty, manipulation and his complexity. His demise into alcohol and
later his cocaine use is arguably pitiful and reflected to some degree in his
later films. Regardless of this, he remained loved by his friends, many of
which returned to work with him over and over again. Whilst Man of Iron
celebrates the man and his work, it never attempts to paper over the cracks or
his personal frailties. It provides a well-balanced account and as a result,
makes for fascinating viewing.
Next
up is The John Player Lecture: Sam Peckinpah, an audio only recording of the
director’s on-stage appearance at the National Film Theatre in London (47 minutes).
Whilst there is no indication, this recording possibly dates from around 1971.
Peckinpah does make a reference to his next film to be released, The Ballad of
Cable Hogue (1970) and because he is in the UK at this time may be an
indication that he was in pre-production stages for his next film Straw Dogs
(1971) which was shot in Cornwall. Peckinpah does sound a little uncomfortable in
front of an audience and not entirely at ease. There is almost a sense of
comfort knowing that his friend Warren Oates is sitting among the audience and
on several occasions Peckinpah tries to draw him actively into the
conversation. When questioned about certain aspects of his work, Peckinpah does
at times seem a little reluctant to answer and the sighs picked up by his
microphone appear to back this up. However, Peckinpah does reveal a great deal
of insightful information, as well as taking the opportunity in criticising the
film establishment, such as the censors and producers and in the way they have
handled his work. Historically, it is an important piece to include; my only minor
gripe is when it comes to the audience questions, which are at times close to
inaudible. As the audio interview is carried out over a still image of
Peckinpah, it might have been an idea to overlay some text in reference to the
actual audience questions. In doing so it would have made it a great deal
easier to decipher exactly what Peckinpah was referring to in his answers.