By Lee Pfeiffer

"Sweet November", released in 1968, came and went without generating much enthusiasm from critics or the public. Produced the estimable team of Jerry Gershwin and Elliott Kastner, who would go on to make "Where Eagles Dare", the film is a romantic comedy set in Brooklyn Heights, just across the river from Manhattan decades before the area was deemed to be hip. Anthony Newley is Charlie Blake, a stuffy British import to Gotham who is the workaholic president of a company that manufactures cardboard boxes. You know the type: no time for love or laughs and just perfect to be taught a life lesson by the right girl, who, in this case, happens to be Sara Deever (Sandy Dennis), a 23 year-old independent young woman who meets cute with Charlie while they both are taking a test to renew their driver's licenses. As in all such scenarios, the small talk is awkward and Charlie finds Sara to be wacky and annoying- before discovering that her bizarre conversations are somewhat intoxicating. Before long, they are pals and Sara brings him to her apartment. She explains she's an artist who has found a way to act as a de facto repair woman for other apartment dwellers, thus supplementing her income. She also has unusual living arrangements. Every month, she "adopts" a new man with emotional needs who gets to live with her for a full month, during which time she serves as an amateur psychiatrist who documents the progress (or lack there of) in bringing the temporary man of the house to a better status than she found him in. At the end of every month, the male tenant must leave to make room for his replacement. Sara can discern that Charlie is an uptight nerd who is also frustrated poet at heart. She convinces him to be her tenant for November. Since Charlie owns his company, he's able to take the time off, which serves as a reminder of nice things were before E- mails and text messages came to rule the lives of executives.

Sara's modest flat provides some amusing sight gags: her bed is located on a shaky platform accessible only by a even shakier ladder. However, the perks of being her "Tenant of the Month" are that you don't have to pay rent and you get to sleep with her, though the sexual aspect of the relationship is only hinted at. Charlie finds Sara to be a handful in terms of personality quirks. She has an opinion on everything and likes to play "Mother Hen", advising her tenants about how to improve their lives. Gradually, Charlie becomes intoxicated by her innocence and good nature. She's Holly Golightly on steroids, as she inspires him to explore his creative impulses, shed his business attire and dress in the currently mod styles. Sara introduces Charlie to her best friend, Alonzo (nicely played by Theodore Bikel), an artist and local activist who serves as a father figure to her. Before long, Charlie is madly in love with Sara and dreads the day when his eventual departure will have to occur in order to accommodate her next tenant. Until this point, "Sweet November" plays out like a sitcom of the era, albeit with some nice footage of Brooklyn. Director Robert Ellis Miller often encourages his stars to overplay the "cutesy" elements of their characters. Sara is almost pretentiously quirky and Charlie displays a fey personality and habits that were mostly associated with stereotypical gay characters of the era. However, Herman Raucher's script takes a somber turn in the last third of the film as Charlie desperately convinces himself that Sara loves him as much as he loves her. A dramatic twist is introduced that leads to a genuinely touching, if unexpected finale. As the script grows darker, the two leads have more to work with. Dennis brings a sensitivity to her performance as the ultimate liberated woman and Newley (who generally displays more ham than your local supermarket) eventually reigns in his comedic mannerisms and redeems himself by making Charlie a more sympathetic figure.

"Sweet November" has all the trappings of a stage play that was adapted to a film. In fact, it is not, although one can easily see it translated into a theater production, as most of the scenes take place in an apartment. The script was considered to be a hot property back in the day and Audrey Hepburn was said to have been interested in starring in the film. It enjoyed a prestigious opening at Radio City Music Hall but critics were dismissive of the movie, though the influential New York Times almost begrudgingly acknowledged a positive recommendation. The film quickly disappeared until 2001 when it was remade starring Keanu Reeves and Charlize Theron, though that film failed at the boxoffice as well. Despite its unenviable legacy, "Sweet November" is a touching film that will probably please most retro movie lovers. It is currently available as a region-free DVD through the Warner Archive. 

By Lee Pfeiffer

Burt Reynolds had been gnawing around the boundaries of genuine stardom for more than a decade, starring in short-lived television shows and top-lining "B" movies. He ingratiated himself to the American public by showcasing his wit and comedic abilities by appearing on chat shows.  In 1972, he struck gold when director John Boorman cast him opposite Jon Voight as the two male leads in the sensational film adaptation of James Dickey's "Deliverance". Finally, he could be classified as a major movie star. Soon, Reynolds was cranking out major films even while his uncanny ability to publicize himself resulted in such stunts as his famed provocative centerfold pose in Cosmopolitan magazine. On screen, Reynolds sensed that he could cultivate an especially enthusiastic audience if he catered to rural movie-goers. He was proven right with the release of "White Lightning", a highly enjoyable 1973 action/comedy that perfectly showcased Reynolds' favored image as a handsome, unflappable hero with a Bondian knack for tossing off quips while facing death and also engaging in good ol' boy towel-snapping humor. Playing bootlegger Gator McClusky, Reynolds drew major crowds, very much pleasing United Artists, which enjoyed hefty profits from the modestly-budgeted production. Reynolds learned, however, that his audience wouldn't necessarily follow him if he deviated from that image. When he went against the grain in films like "The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing", "At Long Last Love" and "Lucky Lady", the movies bombed. When he stuck to the basics, he had hits with "Shamus", "The Longest Yard" and "W.W. and the Dixie Dance Kings". The legendary Variety headline that read "Hix Nix Stix Pix" was no longer true. The American heartland loved Burt Reynolds, especially when he played characters that rural audiences could embrace.

In 1976, Reynolds fulfilled another career milestone by directing his first feature film, a sequel to "White Lightning" titled "Gator". Like the first movie, it was shot entirely on location in Georgia and picked up on the adventures of everyone's favorite moonshiner. When we first see Gator in the sequel, he his getting out of jail only to be targeted by the feds to be used as a pawn in a multi-state crackdown on an epidemic of political corruption that threatens the career of the self-serving, ambitious governor (played very well by famed chat show host Mike Douglas in his big screen debut.) Gator is living in a shack located deep in an inhospitable swamp with his elderly father and precocious 9 year-old daughter when the feds launch a major raid to arrest him on moonshining charges. In reality, they want to use the warrant as leverage to convince him to go undercover for them inside the crime ring. Gator wants no part of it and leads the feds on a merry chase around the bayou in which he is pursued by speed boats and helicopters before finally relenting. The lead federal agent in charge is Irving Greenfield (Jack Weston), an overweight, hyper-nervous Jewish guy from Manhattan who has the unenviable task of ensuring that Gator follows orders. A good portion of the film's laugh quotient comes from Irving's less-than-convincing attempts to "blend in" with small town southern locals. The crime ring is run by Bama McCall (Jerry Reed), an outwardly charming and charismatic fellow who, in reality, uses brutally violent methods to ensure loyalty and intimidate local businessmen to pay protection money. He and Gator are old acquaintances and he doesn't hesitate to give Gator a good-paying job as an enforcer for his mob. Things become more intriguing when Gator sets eyes on Aggie Maybank (Lauren Hutton), an attractive local TV anchor with liberal political beliefs that find her squaring off against Bama in order to protect the poor merchants he is exploiting. "Gator" proceeds on a predictable path but its predictability doesn't detract from its merits, which are considerable. Reynolds is a joy to watch and it's small wonder he leaped to the top ranks of cinematic leading men. His cocky, self-assured persona served him well on the big screen and "Gator" is custom-made to please his core audience. He also proved to be a very able director, handling the action scenes and those of unexpected tragic twists with equal skill. He also gets very good performances from his eclectic cast, with Weston engaging in his usual penchant for scene-stealing. Reed also shines in a rare villainous role and ex-model Hutton proves she has admirable acting chops, as well. The action scenes are impressive thanks to the oversight of the legendary Hal Needham, who would forge a long-time collaborative relationship with Reynolds. 

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray is a reissue with extras from the 2018 release ported over.  The new additional material consists of a commentary track by film historians Steve Mitchell and Nathaniel Thompson, who also provide a new track on the KL reissue of "White Lightning".  The track is quite valuable and entertaining, as old pros Mitchell and Thompson provide a wealth of interesting facts and observations about the film. For example, they discuss that "Gator" is far lighter in tone than the revenge thriller "White Lightning" and say that Reynolds thought the script for "Gator" was sub-par but did the film on the proviso he could direct it. The  disc is  also impressive not only because of the excellent transfer but also because it contains a filmed interview with Reynolds, who extols the film's virtues and its personal meaning to him. In an unusually candid conversation, he divulges amusing anecdotes about Hutton's on-set quirks that included a penchant for exhibitionism (she would flash her breasts to appreciative crew members.) He also relates how a car crash stunt almost killed Hal Needham. Most poignantly, he talks about his personal affection for Georgia, a state he has filmed over twenty movies in. He also candidly expresses his regret that only directed a few films and never fulfilled his dream of directing productions he didn't star in. The Blu-ray set also includes a new gallery of trailers for Reynolds films available from KL. In all, a highly impressive release of an action film showcasing Reynolds at his best. Recommended. 

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By Fred Blosser

When I was in college, my friend Bill Davis and I spent nearly half a day one Saturday from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. at a local movie theatre for a ten-hour marathon.  The lineup included Sergio Leone’s “A Fistful of Dollars,” “For a Few Dollars More,” and “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,” capped with Clint Eastwood’s American Western, “Hang ‘Em High,” an attempt to replicate the Italian filmmaker’s violent, gritty style. It was the equivalent of binge-watching in those long-ago days, before home video and streaming services made it easy to access older films. To revisit favourite movies in that Neolithic age, you had to hope they would return for second- or third runs on the big screen, or wait until they resurfaced on TV in visually degraded, ad-infested prints. The fact that the Leone movies were still pulling in healthy ticket sales on rerun, four years after their initial U.S. release, attests to their popularity. Aside from special events like the periodic return of “Ben-Hur” or “The Ten Commandments,” the only other pictures with the same level of second-run durability at the time were the first five James Bond features with Sean Connery.

The initial success and ongoing appeal of the Leone trilogy prompted Hollywood to import other Spaghetti Westerns in hopes of matching (or at least approaching) the same level of commercial success. The era ran from 1968 to the mid-1970s, surviving even the U.S. box-office disaster of Leone’s fourth Western, “Once Upon a Time in the West.” The operatic epic starring Charles Bronson, Henry Fonda, and Jason Robards was lamely marketed here as a conventional Western, baffling fans of John Wayne and “Gunsmoke.” Adding insult to injury, it suffered wholesale cuts that rendered entire sections of the story incoherent. On smaller investments, more modest imitations in the mode of “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” fared better. One such picture was Giuseppe Colizzi’s Western, I quattro dell'Ave Maria, a tremendous hit in Europe. The Italian title cryptically translates to “The Four of the Hail Mary,” which sounds more like a farce about comedic nuns than a Western. Paramount Pictures (the same studio that, ironically, mishandled “Once Upon a Time in the West”) wisely retitled the production “Ace High” for U.S. release.

In Colizzi’s film, bounty hunters Cat Stevens (Terence Hill) and Hutch Bessy (Bud Spencer) ride into El Paso with $300,000 in stolen money recovered from train robber Bill San Antonio. They intend to turn in the money and claim a hefty reward. The Bill San Antonio back story referred to Colizzi’s previous Western with Hill and Spencer, “God Forgives . . . I Don’t!” (1967; U.S. release, 1969), but you needn’t have seen the predecessor to get up to speed. Cat and Hutch discover that the bank president in El Paso was Bill San Antonio’s partner, not his victim, and instead of settling for the reward, they demand the entire $300,000, else they’ll expose the banker’s secret. In turn, the banker approaches an outlaw, Cacopoulos (Eli Wallach), who sits in jail waiting to be hanged the next morning. He offers to free Caco (as the scruffy felon is called) if he’ll kill Cat and Hutch.

This being a Spaghetti Western, a genre that reveres double-crosses like no other, thanks to the template set by Leone, Caco correctly guesses that the banker plans to do away with him too, as soon as the bounty hunters are out of the way. Grabbing the $300,000, he flees town on his own quest for vengeance. The money will finance his long-delayed pursuit of two former friends, Paco and Drake, who left him to take the fall for a heist years before. Cat and Hutch follow after him to reclaim the $300,000. Caco finds Paco south of the Border, presiding over the summary execution of rebellious peons, and Drake (Kevin McCarthy, in hardly more than a brief guest appearance) as the owner of a lavish gambling house on the Mississippi. Drake is still a crook who swindles his rich patrons with a rigged roulette wheel. Along the way, Caco and the bounty hunters befriend a Black high-wire artist, Thomas (Brock Peters), whose talent is pivotal for the bounty hunters’ scheme to break into the impregnable casino to take control of the wheel and clean Drake out. Italian viewers probably realized that Caco, Cat, Hutch, and Thomas were “the four of the Hail Mary” in Colizzi’s original title, planning their break-in as Caco fingers his rosary. Following Sergio Leone’s lead, the Italian Westerns loved to tweak Catholic piety.

Colizzi also dutifully copies other elements of the Leone playbook, especially those featured in “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” Alliances are made to be broken, greed and expediency always overrule loyalty, and the sins of thieves and hired killers are dwarfed by the inherent corruption and callousness of society as a whole. But Colizzi’s cynicism seems superficial compared with Leone’s, and his violence toned down. In the Leone movies, showdowns are “hideous fantasies of sudden death,” to quote the late film critic Bosley Crowther, in which the losers literally line up in groups to be gunned down. When my friend Bill and I watched the Leone marathon all those years ago, we counted a hundred casualties even before we were well into the third feature, “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” In one gunfight in “Ace High,” Hutch, Cat, and Thomas simply shoot the hats off their opponents’ heads, the kind of slapstick more likely to appear in a comedy Western with Bob Hope or Don Knotts. The final shootout with Drake and his henchman is a parody of Leone’s showdowns, which invariably were choreographed to Ennio Morricone’s dramatic music. Caco has dreamed for years that his reckoning with his traitorous partner would be accompanied by “slow, sweet” music, and so Cat and Hutch order Drake’s house orchestra to play a waltz as the “Four of the Hail Mary” square off against Drake and his henchmen. On one hand it’s a clever idea for viewers who recognise the joke, but on the other, it trivialises the revenge motif in a way Leone never would have.

In another connective thread with “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,” Eli Wallach’s scruffy character is virtually a clone of his bandit “Tuco” from the Leone epic, even to a nearly identical name. But Leone shrewdly counter-balanced Wallach’s manic performance with Eastwood’s laconic presence and Lee Van Cleef’s steely menace. In “Ace High,” Colizzi already has two mismatched characters who play off each other—Terence Hill’s terse, handsome Cat and Bud Spencer’s burly, grouchy Hutch. Wallach is mostly left to his own Actors Studio devices of grins, tics, and swagger, which is good for fans who couldn’t get enough Tuco but not so good for others who just want the story to move on. Tied up by villagers who intend to torture him to learn the location of his stolen $300,000, Caco relates a long, soporific account of his childhood. The scene serves a dramatic purpose, since Caco is trying to lull a drowsy guard to sleep, but it goes on and on. You’re likely to nod off before the sentry does.

“Ace High” is available in a fine Blu-ray edition from Kino Lorber Studio Classics, offering Colizzi’s film at the correct 2.35:1 ratio in a rich Technicolor transfer. Films like this always looked good on the big screen, but most casual fans probably remember them instead from lousy, pan-and-scan TV prints in the old days. The Blu-ray includes the original trailer, plus trailers for several other Spaghetti Westerns released by KL. The company’s go-to expert on the genre, Alex Cox, contributes a new audio commentary. Cox has always been forthright in his dour opinion of directors like Giuseppe Colizzi, Gianfranco (Frank Kramer) Parolini, and Giuliano (Anthony Ascott) Carnimeo, who turned the Italian Western in the direction of burlesque in the late 1960s, and away from the gritty style of Sergio Leone, Sergio Corbucci, and Sergio Sollima. But his comments on “Ace High” are even-handed, informative, and entertaining.

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(Fred Blosser is the author of "Sons of Ringo: The Great Spaghetti Western Heroes". Click here to order from Amazon)

By Lee Pfeiffer

The first African-American to direct a major film for a Hollywood studio was Gordon Parks, whose feature film debut "The Learning Tree" was released in 1969. Parks may have shattered the glass ceiling but there wasn't a tidal wave of opportunities that immediately opened for other minority filmmakers, in part because there were so few with any formal training in the art. One beneficiary of Parks' achievement was Ossie Davis, who was internationally respected as a well-rounded artist. He was a triple threat: actor, director and writer but his directing skills had been relegated to the stage. In 1970 Davis co-wrote the screenplay for and directed "Cotton Comes to Harlem", a major production for United Artists. The film was based on a novel by African-American writer Chester Himes and proved to be pivotal in ushering in what became known as the Blaxploitation genre. In reality, it's debatable whether "Cotton" really is a Blaxploitation film. While most of the major roles are played by Black actors, the term "Blaxploitation" has largely come to symbolize the kinds of goofy, low-budget films that are fondly remembered as guilty pleasures. However, "Cotton"- like Gordon Parks's "Shaft" films which would follow-  boasts first class production values and top talent both in front of and behind the cameras. Regardless, the movie had sufficient impact at the boxoffice to inspire a seemingly endless barrage of Black-oriented American films that were all the rage from the early to mid-1970s. The Blaxploitation fever burned briefly but shone brightly and opened many doors for minority actors. 

The film was shot when New York City was in the midst of a precipitous decline in terms of quality of life. Crime was soaring, the infrastructure was aging and the city itself would be on the verge of bankruptcy  a few years later. Harlem was among the hardest hit areas in terms of the economy. The once dazzling jewel of a neighborhood had boasted popular nightclubs, theaters and restaurants that attracted affluent white patrons. By the mid-to-late 1960s, however, that had changed radically. Street crimes, organized gangs and the drug culture spread rapidly, making Harlem a very dangerous place to be. It was foreboding enough if you were Black but it was considered a "Forbidden Zone" for most white people, who spent their money elsewhere, thus exacerbating the decline of the neighborhoods. "Cotton Comes to Harlem" serves as an interesting time capsule of what life was like in the area, having been shot during this period of decline. Director Davis was considered royalty in Harlem. Despite his success in show business, he and his equally acclaimed wife, actress Ruby Dee, never "went Hollywood". They stayed in the community and worked hard to improve the environment. Thus, Davis was perfectly suited to capture the action on the streets in a manner that played authentically on screen. Similarly, he had a real feel for the local population. As with any major urban area, Harlem undoubtedly had its share of amusing eccentrics and Davis populates the movie with plenty of such characters. 

The film opens with a major rally held by Rev. Deke O'Malley (Calvin Lockhart), a local guy who made good and who is idolized by the population of Harlem. O'Malley is a smooth-talking, charismatic con man in the mode of the notorious Reverend Ike who uses religion as a facade to rip off gullible followers. This time, O'Malley has launched a "Back to Africa" campaign for which he is soliciting funds. It's based on the absurd premise that he will be able to finance disgruntled Harlem residents back to the land of their ancestry. The hard-working, semi-impoverished locals end up donating $87,000 in cash but the rally is interrupted by a daring daytime robbery. An armored car filled with masked men armed with heavy weaponry descend upon the goings-on, loot the cashbox and take off. They are pursued by two street-wise local cops, "Grave Digger" Jones (Godfrey Cambridge)  and his partner "Coffin" Ed Johnson (Raymond St. Jacques). Davis provides an exciting and colorful car chase through the streets of Harlem, as the cops fail to snag the robbers. They also discover that O'Malley has gone missing, leading them to believe that he orchestrated the heist himself so he could keep the proceeds raised at the rally. The plot becomes rather convoluted, as Jones and Johnson learn that a bale of cotton has arrived in Harlem and its somehow connected to the crime. They assume that the stolen money has been stashed in said cotton bale, which quickly changes hands among the most unsavory characters in the community. Getting in on the action is a white mob boss and his goons who are also trying to recover the cotton bale. The cotton itself is resented in Harlem because of its historical links to slavery and by the end of the film, the bale ends up in a stage show at the famed Apollo Theater where it is used as a prop in a bizarre production that involves historical observations about the black experience intermingled with a striptease act! Through it all, Jones and Johnson doggedly chase any number of people through the streets, engage in shoot-outs and car chases and come in and out of contact with Rev. O'Malley, who professes his innocence about being involved in the robbery. The Rev isn't so innocent when it comes to other unscrupulous activities such as chronically cheating on his long-suffering girlfriend Iris (Judy Pace) and manipulating other women in a variety of ways. 

The most delightful aspect of the film is the showcasing of some very diverse talents of the era. Godfrey Cambridge (who made it big as a stand-up comic) and Raymond St. Jacques enjoy considerable on-screen chemistry even if the script deprives them of the kind of witty dialogue that would have enhanced their scenes together. They make wisecracks all the time and harass some less-than-savory characters but the screenplay never truly capitalizes on Cambridge's comedic potential. The film's most impressive performance comes from Calvin Lockhart, who perfectly captures the traits of phony, larger-than-life "preachers". He's all flashy good looks, gaudy outfits and narcissistic behavior. Lockhart seems to be having a ball playing this character and the screen ignites every time he appears. There are some nice turns by other good character actors including pre-"Sanford and Son" Redd Foxx, who figures in the film's amusing "sting-in-the-tail" ending, John Anderson as the exasperated white captain of a Harlem police station that is constantly on the verge of being besieged by local activists, Lou Jacobi as a junk dealer, Cleavon Little as a local eccentric, J.D. Canon as a mob hit man and Dick Sabol as a goofy white cop who suffers humiliation from virtually everyone (which is sort of a payback for the decades in which Black characters were routinely used as comic foils).  The film has a surprisingly contemporary feel about it, save for a few garish fashions from the 1970s. It's also rather nostalgic to hear genuine soul music peppered through the soundtrack in this pre-rap era. Happily, life has not imitated art in the years since the film was released. Harlem has been undergoing the kind of Renaissance that would have seemed unimaginable in 1970. The old glory has come back strong and the center of the neighorhood, 125th Street, is vibrant and thriving once again. These societal perspectives make watching "Cotton Comes to Harlem" enjoyable on an entirely different level than simply an amusing crime comedy.

The film is currently streaming on Screenpix, available for subscription through Amazon Prime.

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Here's some interesting insight into the filming of a scene from The Beatles' 1965 movie "Help!" in which they appeared with legendary British comedic actor Frankie Howerd. Actress Wendy Richard, who was also in the scene, explains how the experience went from being a joy to heartbreaking.

By Adrian Smith

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WILFRID THE FOX”

By Raymond Benson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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“A MATTER OF MISCOMMUNICATION”

By Raymond Benson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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(Photo: Cinema Retro Archive.)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Tom Smothers of the famed comedy duo The Smothers Brothers, has passed away at 86. Early reports indicate he was suffering from cancer. Along with his younger brother Dick, he became an icon of American comedy in the 1960s. The duo started off spoofing the blossoming folk music scene and incorporating it into their standup act, which quickly drew packed houses. In 1967, the brothers were signed by CBS for their own Sunday night show "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour". Despite their physical appearance as short-haired, squeaky clean squares, the brothers used the clout of their successful show to emphasize political humor. It made for "must-see" TV in an era defined by the protest movements over racial injustice and the Vietnam War. CBS began to get anxious when conservative viewers complained that the political humor was going to far. Although Tom Smothers was a self-defined liberal, the brothers satirized both Republicans and Democrats. As with any incumbent President, Lyndon. B. Johnson was often the prime target, as the brothers vehemently opposed his Vietnam War policies. In one instance, the President himself called CBS to complain about how he was being portrayed. In 1967, CBS deleted a performance by Pete Seeger of his thinly-veiled anti-Vietnam War song, "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy". Tom Smothers and his brother were not intimidated and continued the barbed humor when Richard Nixon was inaugurated as President in January, 1969. The brothers showcased impersonator David Frye, whose satirical portrayal of Nixon was as amusing as it was controversial, even though Frye had also satirized President Johnson in an equally barbed manner. By then, CBS had enough of the controversy and canceled the show that April. Officially, the reason was over a dispute about a preview tape of the next show that the network said Tom had not delivered, an accusation he always denied. The brothers sued the network and won the case. Although they were awarded sizeable damages, the show could not be revived.

As with Ed Sullivan, whose variety show also aired on CBS on Sunday nights, the brothers used their image as squares for comedic effect. But, also like Sullivan, they proved to be the hippest guys around when it came to showcasing emerging talents in the rock and soul music world. It was an era in which teenagers would actually stay home to watch variety shows if it gave them a chance to see their favorite groups perform. The brothers also had a talent for finding other young talent. Their staff of writers included newcomers Steve Martin, Rob Reiner and Mason Williams, whose instrumental song "Classical Gas" would become a late-1960s hit. Even Carl Gottlieb, who went on to write the screenplay for "Jaws", started as a writer on the show.  They also showcased promising comedy acts such as George Carlin and Pat Paulsen, whose quixotic tongue-in-cheek run for President in the 1968 election made him a pop culture phenomenon at the time.

For more, click here. For in-depth coverage of Smothers' life and career, click here for Washington Post coverage. (May require subscription.)

By Doug Oswald

William Holden, Grace Kelly and Mickey Rooney star in James A. Michener’s Korean War drama, “The Bridges at Toko-Ri,” released on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber. Holden is Lieutenant Harry Brubaker, a lawyer and Naval Reservist called to active duty during the Korean War. The film opens in November 1952 where we meet Brubaker returning to the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Savo Island off the coast of Korea. He ends up ditching his plane in the ocean after running out of fuel and is rescued from the icy waters. Mickey Rooney gives a memorable performance as Chief Petty Officer Mike Forney, the helicopter pilot who rescues Brubaker from the ocean. Forney wears an unauthorized addition to his uniform, a green top hat and matching scarf, when flying. He also likes to brawl while on shore leave due to girlfriend problems. Earl Holliman plays Nestor Gamidge, the rescue man who assists in getting the pilots into the helicopter and brawling with Mike.

Brubaker is a good pilot and WWII veteran who’s resentful because his civilian life was disrupted by the recall for the Korean War. He starts to question his abilities as a pilot after ditching his plane and is nervous about an upcoming bombing mission. Grace Kelly plays his wife, Nancy Brubaker, who surprises her husband by visiting Japan with their children which casts additional doubts on Brubaker’s ability to carry out dangerous missions.

Headquartered on the USS Savo Island, the naval task force commander is Rear Admiral George Tarrant and is played by Fredric March. Tarrant lost his sons during WWII and is filled with many regrets in life but tries to change Brubaker’s mind about his career as a naval aviator. Rounding out the cast is Charles McGraw as Commander Wayne Lee, the fighter wing commander, who leads the climactic assault on the bridges. Robert Strauss is Lieutenant “Beer Barrel,” and Willis Bouchey as Captain Evans. There’s also an uncredited bit role by Dennis Weaver as the mission briefing officer.

The movie is divided into three parts. We meet the members of the carrier crew in part one. The middle section features shore leave in Japan where we meet Mrs. Brubaker and the Brubaker’s two young daughters. There’s also some shore leave drama involving Forney and Nestor which shows Brubaker’s dedication to these men. The final part of the movie involves the bombing mission at Toko-Ri which pays off beautifully.

The movie features great use of United States Navy resources as the bulk of the film takes place on the deck of the carrier USS Essex with extensive use of the F9F Panther and shots of the carrier task force. The use of actual United States Navy ships and aircraft rather than models is an essential part of the authenticity of this movie. Michener himself spent time on board the USS Essex gathering research for what would become the short novel, “The Bridges at Toko-Ri,” which was released in 1953. That experience by Michener was made into the MGM release, “Men of the Fighting Lady,” with Michener played by Louis Calhern. That movie was released in May 1954, a few months prior to the premier of “Toko-Ri.”

Holden gives one of his typical cynical performances which he was great at doing, especially in such films as “Sunset Blvd,” “Stalag 17” and later in “The Bridge on the River Kwai” and “The Horse Soldiers.” He’s not quite so cynical in this film and gives a great performance as Brubaker. Grace Kelly isn’t given much to do other than looking beautiful as the dutiful wife with kids in tow, but she’s important in sealing her husband’s’ doubts. All her scenes were filmed on studio sets in Hollywood with someone doubling for her in long shots in the location scenes. I think Rooney gives the standout performance as Mike Forney with the green top hat and scarf. Earl Holliman is also good as Mike’s best friend and sidekick with Fredric March and Charles McGraw good as the stoic and capable father figures. I wish Robert Strauss’ comedic skills were put to greater use in the film, especially considering he is fondly remembered in “Stalag 17” with Holden. There’s a side story set up at the start and end of shore leave involving a set of golf clubs carried by Beer Barrel that’s never explained.

The movie is directed by Mark Robson with a screenplay by Valentine Davies. While Robson is not a name that rings bells, you certainly know his movies which include “Peyton Place,” “The Prize,” “Von Ryan’s Express,” “Valley of the Dolls” and “Earthquake” to name a few of his most well-known movies. Robson started his career working uncredited as an assistant editor for Orson Welles and eventually worked his way up to editor and director culminating in several high-profile big budget movies. He died of a heart attack in 1978 shortly after the completion of “Avalanche Express” which was released the following year.

The score by Lyn Murray is serviceable and the on-location shipboard filming adds great production value to the movie. The model work depicting the crash landing scenes are very done as well. The film was released theatrically in December 1954 by Paramount. This Kino Lorber release looks and sounds better than ever. The movie clocks in at 102 minutes and is presented in a widescreen aspect ratio which resembles VistaVision, even though it isn’t, as the movie went into production during the transition period when the process was still being perfected. The Blu-ray release includes an outstanding audio commentary by film historians Steve Mitchell and Steven J. Rubin as well as trailers for this and other Kino Lorber releases. The movie is highly recommended for fans of Holden, Kelly, Rooney and military drama.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Although the practice is all but obsolete today, for decades radio spots were used to promote new films to American audiences. For many of us, this was an era where you felt like your social status had improved immeasurably if your latest used car had the ability to pick up FM radio stations, even if the vehicle could be relied upon to break down several times a week. Radio spots generally ran in a variety of lengths ranging from 60 seconds to 10 seconds. Because they lacked visual elements, the producers of the tracks often used sensationalistic tactics to gain the attention of listeners, often stressing the most comedic or shocking elements of the film depending upon its subject matter. As with all things nostalgic, there is a passionate interest in radio spots among some retro movie fans who collect the vinyl discs. Most were released on 45 RPM but in earlier versions from the 1950s,  they were usually on 33 1/3" records.

Here is an original 1973 radio spot for William Friedkin's "The Exorcist".

"BLAST FROM THE PAST: FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES"

By Lee Pfeiffer

"Saturday Night Live" spawned many a memorable comic character, some of whom were exploited in feature films. While "The Coneheads" proved to be  popular on the big screen, other TV-to-cinema transfers of iconic "SNL" pop culture figures proved to be duds. Al Franken's memorable incarnation of Stuart Smalley was the subject of "Stuart Saves His Family", a 1995 production directed by Harold Ramis that received some surprisingly favorable reviews but ended up with a North American boxoffice gross of less than $1 million. That ranks as a major success compared to "It's Pat: The Movie", released the prior year and starring Julia Sweeney as the androgynous character that proved to be a popular staple of "SNL" during this period. Pat was a visually unattractive figure with an obnoxious manner of speaking that repulsed his/her coworkers, who were constantly striving to discover whether Pat was a male or female. Inevitably, Pat would provide unintentionally ambiguous answers to leading questions that would only heighten the mystery and thwart those who were seeking to unveil Pat's genetic makeup. As the subject of five-minute comedy sketches the concept worked great and Sweeney's Pat became a popular staple of the show. Then Hollywood came knocking. Fox approached Sweeney to turn the concept into a feature film. Sweeney admitted she couldn't envision how Pat could remain interesting to viewers in any format other than TV skits. After putting some development money into the film, Fox agreed and backed off only to have Disney's Touchstone Pictures ride to the rescue and give the production the green light. The result was a disaster. The film was given some sporadic openings only to be pulled within a week due to complete rejection by audiences. The movie's boxoffice gross in North America stands at $61,000. Although modestly-budgeted, the movie still had cost more than $10 million to make. Time has not been kind to dear Pat, as it boasts a Rotten Tomatoes score of 0%. Now those brave souls at Kino Lorber have released a Blu-ray of "Pat: The Movie" and, consequently, it's time to revisit the film.

The plot (such as it is) opens with Pat alienating everyone in his/her orbit with obnoxious behavior. A local store owner gives Pat items for free just to expedite his/her departure. Pat tries various career moves but inevitably loses every job due to ineptness. Just when things seem hopeless, Pat finds love with Chris (Dave Foley in a role originated by Dana Carvey on "SNL"), another androgynous individual. The two set up house together and live as a normal couple, though both seem blissfully unaware that their sexuality is a mystery to those around them. Are they a straight couple? A gay couple? Two men? Two women? A subplot is introduced in which a hunky new neighbor, Kyle (Charles Rocket) and his wife Stacy (Julie Hayden) find their lives disrupted by Kyle's increasing obsession with Pat. He is sexually attracted to him/her, much to the alarm of Stacy, and that attraction turns into a psychological mania that finds Kyle dressing like Pat and even stroking a doll that resembles him/her. Meanwhile, the hapless Pat blunders into some successful career steps by making an appearance with a rock band that leads to him/ her becoming a media sensation. When he/she drops by a radio station to visit a friend, Kathy (Kathy Griffin), who hosts a popular romantic advice show, Pat unintentionally upstages her and gets the hosting gig. Pat's success has alienated Chris, who breaks up the relationship and decides to move abroad. The finale finds Pat coming to grips with his/her faults and making a mad dash to a cruise ship line to prevent Chris from leaving the country.

The animosity extended to "Pat: The Movie", which was directed by Adam Bernstein, is a bit difficult to understand. It isn't very good, to be sure, but it's amusing at times and never veers into the overtly offensive gross-out humor that characterizes many of today's comedies. One of the main problems with the film is that there are no sympathetic characters. I don't recall Pat being an overt narcissist on the "SNL" sketches but here the character is mean-spirited, self-centered and devoid of any likable behavior. Kyle is even more repulsive and barely looks up when his wife leaves him. Now this is an absurdist comedy, to be sure, but the best comedies allow the audience to relate to the protagonists on some level. Jerry Lewis and Jim Carrey played klutzes but they were klutzes you could cheer for. Not so with Sweeney's Pat. Additionally, Sweeney's fears that the one-note concept could not be sustained over the course of a feature film proved correct. Even with the running time of 77 minutes, the movie plods. Still, there are some genuine laughs, most of them centered on the traditional gag of those around Pat becoming increasingly frustrated by their failure to determine his/her sex. When Pat and Chris are presented with a gift of a sexy corset, they both smile wryly and say "We'll enjoy this!" There is also some genuine amusement in Pat's physical appearance, a kind of grotesque version of Jerry Lewis's Prof. Kelp from "The Nutty Professor". But the laughs are too few even for the abbreviated running time. There also some annoyances that are due to simple sloppiness: when Pat tries to escape a pursuer, she randomly enters a building only to find the place is a night club hosting a packed, on-going, ear-splitting rock concert taking place apparently in the middle of the afternoon. Such absurdities leave one to think that the film was slapped together quickly in order to make a fast buck.

Julia Sweeney tragically faced more challenges than the complete failure of "It's Pat" with critics and the public. Around the time of the film's release, her brother was diagnosed with a terminal illness. After caring for him, she was diagnosed with cancer. Sweeney beat the disease and made lemonade from the lemons life had handed her when she wrote and starred in her acclaimed one-woman play, "God Said Hah!" which chronicled her personal trials and tribulations through a comedic lens. (The play would later be the basis for a documentary.) Her co-star Charles Rocket fared worse, committing suicide in 2005. However, most of those associated with the debacle of "It's Pat" found their careers survived. Director Adam Bernstein went on to a highly successful career in television. Dave Foley continues to work steadily in TV and films and Kathy Griffin emerged as a popular standup comedienne and pundit on CNN until her increasingly foul-mouthed rants backfired, topped by sending around an image on social media depicting her holding the bloody, severed head of President Trump. That stunt achieved the distinction of being denounced by even the president's most ardent critics and Griffin lost her CNN gig.

"It's Pat" opened and closed before the age of E mail and social media had taken the world by storm. It's failure today would have been the stuff of snarky jokes and cynical criticisms of all those involved. However, because the film wasn't highly anticipated, it's failure occurred without much notice or damage to anyone's personal reputation. There's plenty of laughs left in dear Pat but they can mostly be found in the original "SNL" skits. Ironically, with transgender issues now the topic of current debates, the film might have found a more receptive audience today.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray has an impressive transfer, a teaser trailer for the film and a gallery of other comedies available through the company.

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Arkin in the 1990 film "Havana". (Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Alan Arkin, who improbably gained a Best Actor Oscar nomination for his first film role, has passed away at age 89. Arkin gained stardom in the film industry with the release of Norman Jewison's hit 1966 comedy "The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming." in which he played the captain of a Soviet submarine that accidentally goes aground off the coast of New England and sets off a panic among the locals, who are convinced the Russians are invading. Two years later, Arkin earned another nomination for his dramatic role as a deaf mute in "The Heat is a Lonely Hunter". In 2006, he won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for "Little Miss Sunshine". He was nominated in that category again for the 2012 film "Argo". Arkin was also nominated for Emmy Awards for his role opposite Michael Douglas in the acclaimed comedy series "The Kominsky Method."

Arkin was primarily known for his comedic talents, having honed them as a young man when he was with the legendary Second City comedy group that spawned many other major stars over the years. His prominent roles included playing the title role in "Inspector Clouseau", "Catch-22", "Popi", "Last of the Red Hot Lovers", "Freebie and the Bean", "The In-Laws", "Edward Scissorhands", "The Rocketeer", "Havana", "The Seven-Per-Cent Solution", "Simon" and the feature film version of "Get Smart". Arkin also occasionally played dramatic roles to great acclaim as in "Wait Until Dark" in which he was a murderer who terrified a blind woman played by Audrey Hepburn and in "Glengarry Glen Ross". Arkin's legacy will be defined by his diversity in the roles he played. He was regarded by his colleagues as the epitome of an industry professional. For more, click here.

By Lee Pfeiffer

By the year 1972, the esteemed Billy Wilder was licking his wounds over the boxoffice debacle that was "The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes". Wilder's revisionist depiction of the legendary sleuth is precisely what Holmes fan clamor for today, but to a generation that defined the depiction of Holmes and Watson by the low-budget film series starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, there was little enthusiasm to see an all-too human Holmes with all-too-human failings. Wilder blamed the poor reception for the film on the fact that the studio had overridden his objections and made major cuts to the movie. Years ago, some of the missing footage was discovered and the altered film was accepted favorably by reviewers and retro movie lovers. Still, at the time, Wilder was not used to suffering the humiliation of public rejection of one of his movies. After all, he had given us classics such as "Some Like It Hot", "The Apartment", "Sabrina", "Double Indemnity" and "Stalag 17". Wilder was eager to return to his comedic roots and for his next film, "Avanti!" and he enlisted long-time collaborator Jack Lemmon to star and his esteemed writing partner I.A.L. Diamond to co-author the script with him. The stars seemed be aligned for another Wilder comedy hit, but it didn't work out that way, to put it mildly. "Avanti!" was another critical and commercial failure and this time it really hurt. Henceforth, the few films Wilder would direct would all be bombs, marking an inglorious end to an otherwise glorious career. Yet, "Avanti!" deserved a better fate. It's certainly Wilder in an inspired mode even if the inspiration came from a flop Broadway comedy production that he and Diamond kept the basic plot premise of but otherwise rewrote.

Wilder and Lemmon had enjoyed such audience-pleasing hits as "Some Like It Hot", "The Apartment", "Irma La Douce" and "The Fortune Cookie". Lemmon is well-cast as Wendell Armbruster, Jr., the son of a titan of American industry who has just died in an automobile accident in Italy where he went every year for a month-long personal sabbatical to cleanse his body and soul. Wendell is already in a state of nervous panic when we first see him on board the flight to Italy. He has just a few days to arrange to bring his father's body back to Washington, D.C. where a high profile televised funeral will take place with the President and other world dignitaries in attendance. (It's never explained why the Armbruster family self-imposed such a tight deadline for retrieving the body and staging the funeral.) Wendell idolized his father as the symbol of American family values and conservative political doctrine; a robust Republican who socialized with Henry Kissinger and who was devoted to Wendell's mother. Upon arrival in the quaint coastal town where his father died at his favorite small hotel, Wendell is greeted by the manager, Carlo Carlucci (Clive Revill), an unflappable local "Mr. Fix-It" with a penchant for reassuring words and an ability to move mountains to carry out impossible tasks. However, Wendell is in for a shock when he meets Pamela Piggott (Juliet Mills), a working class girl from East London whose mother also died in the same car crash as Wendell Sr. Turns out the two were lovers who met for the past ten years at the hotel, where they were adored local legends. Thus begins a madcap farce in which Wendell has to deal with the emotional revelation that his father was an adulterer while at the same time keeping family members and the public in the dark about the scandal. Pamela has a different attitude. Unlike Wendell, she knew of the affair long ago and assures Wendell that the two were madly in love and could fulfill their fantasies through their annual reunion. Wendell also learns that his ultra conservative father would join his lover for daily nude swim.

If the conventional wisdom in Hollywood is that comedies must run under two hours, Wilder was happy to ignore it. "Avanti!" clocks in at 144 minutes. It's as though he was celebrating the leisurely Italian lifestyle depicted in the film, a lifestyle that can be both simultaneously maddening and idyllic. Do we have to tell you that Wendell and Pamela lock horns only to become lovers themselves, even going so far as to replicate the dear departed's daily nude swim in the best-remembered scene from the movie? Despite the lengthy running time, the film is never boring and the performances are all top-notch with both Lemmon and Mills in fine form. However, the scene-stealer is Clive Revill in a remarkably funny performance. You'll swear you're watching an Italian actor instead of a native New Zealander who made his mark in British film and stage productions. The movie is peppered with some genuine Italian character actors, as Wendell becomes embroiled with a local group of poverty-row mobsters. Wilder and Diamond also mix in an amusing murder and blackmail plot. There is a late appearance by the marvelous Edward Andrews as a U.S. State Department official who arrives to resolve Wendell's problem of getting his father's body back home in time for the funeral. For all the laughs, however, there is a poignancy to the story, as Wendell learns to love and admire Pamela, who has initially disparages because of her "weight problem."  This is an uncomfortable aspect of the movie not only because Juliet Mills most decidedly did not have a "weight problem", but she endures (as women did during this era) constant barbs and insults and even makes self-deprecating jokes about her non-existent girth.

"Avanti!" may not be classic Wilder, but it's very good Wilder and that's enough to merit a "highly recommended" designation.The film is currently streaming on Screenpix, which is available to Amazon Prime subscribers for an additional fee of $2.99 a month.

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By Dana Polan

Although it’s not necessarily thought of as initiating the cycle of late 70s and then 1980s teenage sex comedies, The Graduate, from Embassy Pictures in 1967, is clearly an inspiration for the later films about awkward virginal guys caught up in farcical narratives of dream, drive, and desire. The success of The Graduate enabled its production company head, impresario Joseph Levine, to broker a merger of Embassy with Avco, and it was the newly named Avco-Embassy that about a decade after The Graduate brought out the virgin teenage guy comedy, The Chicken Chronicles. From the same year (1977), The Van, a broad farce about a guy who revamps his van as a love-machine likewise suggests the first glimpses of a trend, one that got its fullest recognition soon after in the wildly successful Animal House from the following year, along with later iterations like Porky’s (1981) and its sequels, all produced by Melvin Simon who also was the producer of The Chicken Chronicles.

Ironically, although The Graduate has a stronger reputation in cinema history as a serious work of social-cultural engagement within the fervent and foment of the 1960s, it’s actually the raunchy low-class gross-out virgin-comedies that come after it that engage in any manner with the politics of the time. To be sure, the ups and downs of Benjamin’s relationships in The Graduate address in their own manner the claims of the Sixties to show that “the personal is the political” (especially for young women like Elaine Robinson, so mistreated by Benjamin when he first takes her out on a date), but one would be hard-pressed to find much direct reference to the times (we see some hippies as mere background when Benjamin and Elaine go out on that date).

In contrast, Animal House takes on the jockeying for power in the contemporary college system while Porky’s addresses redneck racism in the South. And from a very early scene where we hear tough news about the times on the car radio of protagonist Dave Kessler (Steve Guttenberg), The Chicken Chronicles, set in 1969 and continually referencing the war in Vietnam, keeps bringing the real politics of the day into its seemingly personalized story of one guy’s quest for sexual fulfillment. Most poignant is a moment where one of Dave’s co-workers at the fried chicken outlet he works at (hence, the film’s title) learns that her brother has died in Nam. An African-American woman, she had enjoyed a lively moment of dancing with her team, and she is a figure that we, and the white employees and boss, admire. Her last moment in the film comes when the take-out’s boss (Phil Silvers, the classic comedian) tells her to go home so she can mourn properly. A cut shows her waiting at a bus stop when Dave comes by in his car and offers her a lift: she demurs (is she worried about a white guy being seen driving her into her neighborhood?) and he drives off and we see her get on the bus and exit off-screen, out of the film.

No other scene in The Chicken Chronicles is like this one in its explicit and quite non-comedic acknowledgement of the times. But many other scenes are like it in their very fleetingness. In fact, it is probably misleading to insist too much on any consistent desire of the film to offer social commentary. Like the later broad and buffoonish sex comedies, The Chicken Chronicles operates by a sort of scattergun approach, taking on any and all topics, large and small, relevant or irreverent, and jumping here and there to random new scenes for the sake of immediate effect. While there’s an overall narrative thrust (pun not intended although noted!) – the goal of the protagonist to lose his virginity – the film is a deliberate hodgepodge, hoping that whatever’s onscreen at the moment will work at the moment. Whether this or that scene works depends then on individual taste: for instance, if you like to see stuck-up kids get theirs by falling into the suburban pool, that will be your moment of hilarity; if you like hints of relevance, there are enough of those in the film to keep you going. It’s noteworthy that while few mainstream critics reviewed The Chicken Chronicles – and the rare ones that did didn’t like it much – one thing these commentators did single out as intriguing was the fact that Dave Kessler’s parents are unseen in the film and communicate with him only by speakers dotted throughout their house (a contrast to the very different generational alienation of The Graduate where the problem for Benjamin Braddock is that his parents are too visible, too fatuous in their overbearing advice).

Ironically, the scattershot approach of The Chicken Chronicles is (no doubt, unintentionally) echoed in its commentary track, by cult film historians Lee Gambin and Emma Westwood, which is itself frenetic and all over the place. (Curiously, Westwood is not listed on the Blu-ray back cover.) At one point, the commentators even have to remind themselves to talk about the film at hand, as they go off on all sorts of tangents (for example, that the director had an interest in documentary leads to a digression about cinema verité maverick D.A. Pennebaker while a mispronunciation of “chutzpah” occasions discussion of Jewishness in film). While the commentary track talks of the actors (especially Phil Silvers), it does so by going at length into their filmography or videography, and the film frequently gets left behind. Luckily, one of the few moments where the commentators actually converse about the film unspooling before them has to do with the multiracial and multiethnic nature of the casting, an important aspect of the film’s random attention to politics (in this case, a politics of identity). The commentary track is one of the only special features on the Blu-Ray, along with a trailer.

To the extent that, like other examples from teen sex cinema, The Chicken Chronicles targets an audience that would come increasingly to appreciate the raucous non-coherence of individual moments around the central narrative premise, the film, and now its Blu-ray release, probably work best for its projected target audience. To state an obvious truism, if you like this sort of thing, you’ll like this early example of it.

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(Dana Polan is the author of "Dreams of Flight: The Great Escape in American Films and Culture") Click here to order from Amazon.)

By Todd Garbarini

An old saying is that drama is easy, but comedy is hard. When comedy works, it is nothing short of a miracle. When it fails, it is a thundering disappointment. On New Year’s Eve in 1976, I attended a party at my mother’s aunt’s house. While the adults were ringing in the New Year in the small and cramped basement, I was on the first floor watching a television airing of Stanley Kramer’s It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. It was the first time I had ever heard of and seen this madcap, star-studded extravaganza that pits a Who’s Who of top-notch comedians in a quest to locate a suitcase containing $350,000.00, the equivalent of roughly $3.5 million dollars today. To say that I loved it would have been an understatement. To make a film on that scale with that number of people and actually make it hilarious is other worldly. I immediately became a fan of most of the cast, particularly Jonathan Winters in his role as Pike, the driver of the moving van who must get to Yuma, AZ and will stop at nothing to get his hands on $350,000.00 located under a “big ‘W’”.

James Frawley’s The Big Bus is a comedy that took its maiden voyage theatrically on Wednesday, June 23, 1976, nationwide. As a send-up of disaster films that made their rounds at the box office during the 1970s, it is a film similarly pitting an all-star cast in an inane situation that should be laugh out loud hilarious but falls a bit short in this department. The premise concerns a nuclear-powered bus designed to be driven from New York to Denver in record time while an iron lung-encased oil magnate (Jose Ferrer), in cahoots with a group of oil sheikhs, plot to sabotage the bus to protect their financial interests. They manage to take both the driver and co-driver out of commission with a bomb, necessitating their replacements with Dan Torrance (Joseph Bologna), a vilified former bus driver who crashed a previous bus and was accused of eating all the passengers to survive, and his narcoleptic co-driver “Shoulders” (John Beck), so named as he cannot keep the bus off the highway shoulder and in his own lane. Along for the ride are Kitty Baxter (Stockard Channing) as Dan’s former flame; Ned Beatty as one of the remote radio navigators; Ruth Gordon as a passenger who tells it like she sees it; Sally Kellerman and Richard Mulligan as a couple about to be divorced who cannot seem to keep their hands off each other (the bit is initially humorous but wears out its welcome); Lynn Redgrave as a staid fashion designer; a crazed Bob Dishy as a veterinarian; Richard B. Shull as a man whose time on planet Earth is coming to a close, and so on. The bus is even outfitted with an onboard swimming pool, if you can believe that such a thing would fit. For those of you unlucky enough to recall, in February 1979 NBC-TV launched an ill-fated television series as their answer to ABC-TV’s The Love Boat. Titled Supertrain, the most expensive television series ever produced up to that time, it was (surprise!) a nuclear-powered transcontinental New York to Los Angeles souped up ride that housed a swimming pool, a movie theater, a disco(!), and a cast of characters so bland one wonders how this train ever left the station. The pilot episode, directed by Dan Curtis, was an interminable two hours, with a catchy theme that I dug at the age of ten and was composed by Robert Cobert. Both shows were conceived of by Fred Silverman at different points in his career.

Bus made its television network premiere on Saturday, May 24, 1980 at the unorthodox time of 09:30 pm. The film runs 88 minutes, and while being placed in a 90-minute time slot, a good amount of footage must have been excised to accommodate commercials. Bus may have played out much funnier at the time of its release as a fair number of jokes are topical, though the 2001 theme accompanying the rollout of the titular vehicle is still very much in the minds of filmgoers decades later. The gags are amusing but are light-years away from what it could (and should) have been. An admirable attempt at humor, Bus cannot hold a candle to the absurdist wrongdoings of the stewardesses and passengers of 1980’s Airplane! Apparently, the Zucker Brothers, the brains behind Airplane!, worked on Bus as well. Bus can be viewed as the appetizer, with Airplane! served up as the main course – and dessert, to boot.

Kino Lorber has released the film on a beautifully transferred Blu-ray. I love this company and they do not disappoint. There is a feature-length commentary by film historians Howard S. Berger and Nathaniel Thompson which is more fun to listen to than actually watching the film – at least for me. They discuss the location shooting and give short bios of the cast members as they appear onscreen, while also engaging in anecdotes about the big disaster films of the period. It is always a pleasure to listen to them.

The film’s trademark comedic key poster art was illustrated by the late great cartoonist Jack Davis, who also drew the key art for the aforementioned Mad World. It appears on the Blu-ray cardboard sleeve and the Blu-ray cover art in a slightly truncated and altered version to fit the dimensions and still be discernible.

Oscar-winning composer David Shire, who also scored The Taking of Pelham 123 (1973), The Conversation (1974), and All the President’s Men (1976), may seem like an unorthodox choice to score such material, but he makes the most of it with a rambunctious score that made its way to compact disc (remember those?) in 2011 via Film Score Monthly.

Rounding out the Blu-ray are a selection of trailers from the showcased title, John Schlesinger’s Honky Tonk Freeway (1981), Richard Fleischer’s Million Dollar Mystery (1987), Gus Trikonis’s Take This Job and Shove It (1981), Marty Feldman’s In God We Trust (1980), Michael Apted’s Continental Divide (1981), Joel Schumacher’s D.C. Cab (1983), and Neal Israel’s Moving Violations (1985).

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Colin Quinn's latest one-man comedy show, "Small Talk" has arrived at the historic Greenwich Theatre in the heart of Greenwich Village. Quinn, a former "Saturday Night Live" cast member, has acquired a loyal following, as evidenced by the fact that this is his seventh such stage production, two of which were directed by Jerry Seinfeld. (This one is directed by James Fauvell). Not having seen any of these previous shows, I accepted the invitation to review this production with an open mind and no particular expectations. Quinn is quite the raconteur, weighing in on many aspects of modern life. In this case, as the show's title indicates, he spends much of his time on the subject of small talk and bemoaning his conclusion that this form of societal intercourse is going the way of the dodo bird and leisure suits. Quinn's thesis is that throughout history, it is the seemingly benign art of making inconsequential conversation that has kept humanity from engaging in complete anarchy because it often forces people with adversarial points of view to engage in at least the basics of civil behavior. Quinn cites the culprits who caused the breakdown of small talk and their names aren't legion, but rather Bill Gates and Steve Jobs. Quinn postures that their achievement in making personal computers accessible to the average person has led to diminishing social skills, a dilemma that has only intensified with rapidly expanding technology. It's hard to argue with his logic in an age in which people seem to favor virtual friends over the company of living, breathing human beings. A recent study shows that a shocking percentage of young adult males are losing interest in sex because they prefer on-line relationships to real-life lovers, although considering the cost of going on a date in today's world, maybe they aren't quite as crazy as they appear. Quinn ridicules people who spend too much of their life posting their thoughts on social media and decrees that anyone who posts more than five times a day should seek psychiatric care. He has grappled with his own human weaknesses from the terror of having narrowly survived a heart attack to his successful battle against alcoholism. (In a recent interview, he admits to having been banned from the famed New York watering hole, McSorley's Old Ale House, a seemingly impossible feat if you've frequented the venue.)

Quinn starts off the show with a barrage of comedic observations delivered with the rapidity of a blazing machine gun. There's no warming up in the bullpen because he's got a lot to say and only a self-imposed 70-minute timeline in which to say it. I don't like citing specific jokes when covering comedy acts because it's akin to giving away spoilers in a movie review. Besides, it's possible that many of Quinn's quips might come across as flat as a pancake in print. You have to be in the room with him for the full impact and the Greenwich House Theatre provides an intimate setting that is the perfect venue. Everyone is close enough to the stage to arrive at the belief that Quinn is addressing them personally. It takes only seconds for the laughs to begin, as he weighs in on the most uncomfortable setting in which people have to make small talk: an elevator. He observes that one's choice of words to a total stranger can seem vacuous at best or downright creepy at worst. Like a grumpy but amusing bar patron, Quinn moves beyond small talk through his personal list of people and things that he finds annoying. He vents against the public's embracing of fast food chains, postulating that in the distant future, archaeologists will believe that McDonald's signature "Golden Arches" will indicate places of worship. He says that people's social media profiles indicate who they think they are but their browser histories reveal who they really are, which is an uncomfortable but indisputably true observation.

While Quinn doesn't work "clean", as his colleague Jim Gaffigan does, he doesn't engage in profanity for the sheer sake of shock value, as is the norm with many prominent standup comedians. He has the combined traits of the classic New Yawk comedian, with elements of Lenny Bruce combined with social observations akin to those of Jackie Mason, Woody Allen and Mort Sahl. His political targets are surprisingly few and are balanced. He decries the far left for being politically correct hypocrites who are in a constant state of making cringe-inducing apologies for injustices that they had nothing to do with creating. As for the far right, he dismisses them as being simply stupid. The only positive comments he makes are in tribute to his friend and fellow "SNL" cast member, the late Norm MacDonald, who he clearly misses and admires greatly. 

The audience roared with laughter throughout the show. I may have missed Quinn's six previous stage productions but I won't miss the next. This is stand-up comedy at it's best.

"Colin Quinn: Small" talk runs through May 6. Click here for tickets and information.

By Hank Reineke

Following the “monstrous” success of Universal’s Frankenstein, Boris Karloff no longer had to cast about Hollywood looking for employment. Between 1932 and 1942, the actor would appear in more than forty feature films for nearly every major and minor Hollywood studio: Universal, of course: but also Fox, United Artists, Paramount, MGM, RKO Radio, Warner Bros., Monogram and Columbia. Prior to Frankenstein, Karloff had appeared in several gangster/prison pictures for Columbia Pictures as a menacing presence. It was a gift that brought attention.

Though it was Universal’s Frankenstein (1931) that would make Karloff a box-office star in his own right, the actor would go on to make two other films for Columbia in the 1930s (The Black Room and The Man They Could Not Hang). Though Columbia studio boss Harry Cohn didn’t care much for horror pictures, Karloff’s on-screen villainy was a hot commercial property ripe for exploitation. So Columbia cast him – in a dual role as bothers Anton and Gregor De Berghman’s – in Roy William Neill’s big-budget historical melodrama The Black Room Mystery (the title later shortened to The Black Room). It’s interesting that the two-page spread Columbia took out in the trades didn’t play up the film’s “horror” angle. Only that the film would star “Boris Karloff: The Man They Love to Hate in a powerful mystery romance.”

Columbia’s The Man They Could Not Hang (1939) followed, the first of a five-picture deal Karloff would strike with the studio. Between 1939 and 1942 the actor embarked on a series of Columbia films that fans describe as the actor’s “mad scientist” pictures. All five of these melodramas/horror-sci-fi pics, as well as The Black Room, are included on Mill Creek’s new Blu- ray package Thrillers from the Vault. Two additional horror/sci-fi efforts from Columbia (Return of the Vampire and Five) round out this generous – if curious - set. But we’ll get to that in a moment.

In many respects the first four of Karloff’s mad scientist films closely resemble one another in construction. They’re formula films. In each Karloff portrays a scientist/doctor working on a formula or experiment that will benefit all mankind. But in each instance the science goes wrong - which causes Karloff to do the same. In fairness, his murderous turn-of-heart is usually due to the interventions of disbelievers. The premise of all these “mad scientist” films can be summarized in a line Karloff delivers in The Man They Could Not Hang. Having vanquished nearly all of those he holds responsible for his murder conviction, he snarls bitterly, “Every gift that science has given them has been twisted into a thing of hate and greed!”

In Nick Grinde’s The Man They Could Not Hang (1939), Karloff plays Dr. Henryk Savaard, a noble scientist who plans to test his newfangled mechanical heart pump on a young and trusting medical associate (Stanley Brown). To conduct this experiment, the young man must be first put into a state of clinical death prior to reification. But due to the alarm of his hysterical nurse – the fiancé of the test subject, to boot – the authorities are alerted. Upon their hurried arrival at Savaard’s laboratory, they do not allow the pleading scientists the chance to revive the corpse of the test subject.

Savaard is tried for murder and executed on the gallows. But the scientist’s devoted assistant Lang (Byron Foulger) collects his body from the prison morgue, applies the mechanical heart procedure on Savaard’s corpse, and resurrects Savaard. But Dr. Savaard is no longer a benevolent scientist. The actions set off by the “treacherous” nurse has left him mercilessly unhinged. He’s now interested only on exacting revenge on the twelve jurors and prosecution team who found him guilty of murder.

In Grinde’s The Man with Nine Lives (1940), Karloff plays Dr. Leon Kravaal, a scientist whose cancer research leads him to believe that freezing those afflicted – temporarily in a secretive, subterranean glacial chamber - helps retard or cure the disease. But the authorities – pressed by a gaggle of wary villagers - wrongly suspect Kravaal is up to no good. They travel out to his secretive island with the intent of hauling Kravaal to prison.

With the life of his frozen patient in jeopardy due to this unwelcome incursion, Kravaal releases a gas, rendering everyone – including himself – unconscious in the frozen chamber. The film flashes forward a decade on when a trio of scientists decide to investigate Kravaal’s mysterious disappearance. Upon finding both the doctor and his interlopers perfectly preserved in ice, all are thawed out. But Kravaal, now crazed with revenge, uses his new lease on life to continue his experiments on his imprisoned and unwilling subjects.

Grinde’s back again for Before I Hang (1940). In this one Karloff plays Dr. John Garth, an elderly, mild-mannered scientist in search of a serum that will retard the aging process. He’s not successful in his first effort, compelling him to perform a “mercy killing” on a patient whose life was nothing but a “sleepless, tortured nightmare.” For this act he’s convicted of murder and sentenced to hang. While awaiting execution, the warden (unreasonably) allows Garth to continue with his experiments under the supervision of a prison doctor Dr. Howard (Edward Van Sloane). Reworking the formula, Garth has the bad idea of mixing the blood of recently executed fellow inmate – who happened to be a three-time convicted murderer – into the serum.

Garth chooses to be the willing guinea pig himself – he’s about to be executed anyway, so has nothing to lose – and injects the serum into his own bloodstream. This time the age reversal works – but with a caveat. Though Garth begins to transform into his younger self, his veins now carry the “contaminated” blood of a murderer. Unable to fend off evil impulses, Garth strangles Dr. Howard. But prison authorities mistakenly pin Howard’s murder on another inmate and Garth – injured in a frantic melee with that inmate - is ultimately pardoned. But the tainted blood he carries compels him to seek out fresh victims outside of prison walls.

Things go no better for Karloff’s Dr. Julian Blair in Edward Dmytryk’s The Devil Commands (1941). Despondent over his wife’s death in an automobile accident, Blair is convinced brainwaves of the deceased live on following a body’s expiry - and such waves can be recorded electrically on a graph. Though most of his colleagues scoff at his theory, Blair is determined to continue his work in a remote cliff side cottage near the sea. To this end he has built an elaborate – and decidedly eerie – laboratory: one brimming with electrical gimmickry, wires and steel-plated robotic helmets. Such experimentation might have been sanctioned had Blair not robbed local graves in search of test subjects. Needless to say things, as ever, do not turn out well for anyone involved.

The sixth and final Karloff Columbia effort in this set is Lew Lander’s The Boogie Man Will Get You (1942). This is a more lighthearted affair, a black comedy that’s, regrettably, only occasionally comedic. The film, a co-feature with Peter Lorre, is mostly a poor cousin to a more recent and successful enterprise. The Boogie Man Will Get You is mostly an ill-conceived knock-off of Karloff’s popularity as the murderous Jonathon Brewster in the Broadway stage production of Arsenic and Old Lace.

There is a key difference. While the Broadway play and Lander’s film attempt to mix laughs with menace, the former does so to perfection, the latter… not so much. As this is a WWII era-film, Karloff’s Professor Billings and Lorre’s Dr. Lorencz work to create a race of super-humans to assist the Allied war effort. It’s best to be a fan of mug boxer-turned-character-actor “Slapsie” Maxie Rosenbloom if one truly expects to mine sixty-six minutes of reasonable entertainment.

The seventh and eighth films of this Thrillers from the Vault set are the only two not featuring Karloff. Lander’s The Return of the Vampire (1942) features Bela Lugosi’s caped return as Count Dracula… well, more or less. In the film his character is actually referred to as Armand Tesla, but Lugosi plays his part mostly as he had the more fabled Count of Tod Browning’s Universal classic of 1931. While there’s no Dwight Frye to attend to his sinister beckoning’s, this film’s “Renfield” styled servant is Andreas Orby (Matt Willis), a talking werewolf.

As with The Boogie Man Will Get You, this film too situates a favorite horror actor in a modern WWII setting. The vampire Tesla is resurrected in the film’s earliest scenes as his graveyard internment is disturbed by a German air-raid bombing over London. This is, most welcomingly, the first time The Return of the Vampire has been issued in the U.S. on Blu-ray. The title was previously issued by Columbia/Tri-Star on a DVD release of 2002.

The set’s eighth and final film Five (1951) is the odd man out here, a thoughtful if dystopian film, courtesy of writer-director-producer Arch Oboler of Lights Out radio fame. A nuclear bomb blast has wiped out all of the world’s population, save for five souls who wander and ponder moralities, politics and the future’s gloomy future prospects. It might have been best to include Five on Mill Creek’s sister set to this Thriller release, Sci-Fi from the Vault.

In truth, my first reaction when scanning this set’s packaging was wonderment why a 1950’s film such as Five was included in this set of 1940s horror-mystery programmers? There are several 1940’s pictures from the Columbia vault that would have better fit this Thriller set thematically and chronologically: Will Jason’s Soul of the Monster (1944) and Henry Levin’s Cry of the Werewolf (1944), for starters. The former title was issued as a Columbia Classics made-on-demand DVD in 2011. To my knowledge, the only official release of the latter was on a Goodtime VHS tape – issued way back in 1989 – it’s well past due for a digital re-freshening.

So what’s the verdict? The films look great for their age, with minor speckling and scratches here and there, but nothing too distracting. It’s a mixed bag if we’re to contrast this Mill Creek U.S. issue with Eureka’s UK handsome Blu-ray set Karloff at Columbia. If you’re a US fan without a multi-region Blu ray player than the Mill Creek set should more than satisfy. There are more than a handful of worthy extras on the Mill Creek set. The primary bonus is the forty-minute long doc Madness and Mayhem: Columbia Horror in the ‘30s and ‘40s which features historian C. Courtney Joyner discussing the studio’s involvement in the horror trade.

Five of the eight films on the Mill Creek feature audio commentaries: Dr. Steve Haberman (The Black Room), C. Courtney Joyner and Heath Holland (The Man They Could Not Hang), Tom Weaver (The Devil Commands and Five), the Monster Party Podcast group (The Boogie Man Will Get You) and Larry Blamire (Five.) And, of course, the Mill Creek set gives you the added bonus of two extra features. On the downside, the four Mill Creek discs share space on two spindles – on my copy the discs frequently dislodge. This will surely not make fussier collectors happy.

If you are a particularly devoted fan with region-free Blu-ray capabilities, Eureka’s Karloff at Columbia (a limited edition of 3000 copies) might still be considered for your collection as the six films featured on that set comes with fresh commentaries separate of those found on this Mill Creek set. The Eureka release also contains an informative booklet featuring the musings of author Stephen Jacobs (Boris Karloff: More than a Monster), film critic Jon Towlson and film scholar and University lecturer Craig Ian Mann. Eureka also includes audio of four Inner Sanctum radio broadcast programs (1945-1952), all featuring Karloff. So, as Karloff the sinister might say, it’s upon you to “choose your poison.”

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In this excerpt from the U.S. PBS series, "Pioneers of Television", Peter Graves discusses his long career from "B" sci-fi movies to his success on "Mission: Impossible" and even his comedic appearance in the "Airplane!" feature film. He also chats about the career of his brother, James Arness, another true icon of television.

By Lee Pfeiffer

"Good Day for a Hanging" is minor 1959 color Western elevated by an unusually intelligent script and an impressive cast of veteran actors and a couple of up-and-comers who would find stardom in the 1960s. Fred MacMurray plays former town marshal Ben Cutler, a widower who is living a serene small town life in the company of his fiancee Ruth (Maggie Hayes) and his teenage daughter Laurie (Joan Blackman). Their peaceful existence is shattered when Laurie's former beau Eddie Campbell (Robert Vaughn) arrives in town in the company of some shady bandits. While Laurie tries to reignite the romance with Eddie, his companions are pulling off a robbery of the bank which goes wrong very quickly when a shootout ensues. Eddie and his companions flea the scene with a posse in hot pursuit led by Marshal Cain (Emile Meyer). Another shootout follows with some of the gang killed and others escaping with half the loot from the bank. In the melee, Ben witnesses Eddie fatally shooting Marshal Cain before Eddie is wounded and captured. When he is brought back to town, Eddie is nursed back to health, in part by Laurie, and admits the obvious- he took part in the robbery. However, he insists that he did not shoot the marshal and that he must have been hit by gunfire from another gang member. Ben knows this is untrue and tells the townspeople as much. He also reluctantly agrees to temporarily resume serving as town marshal until a permanent replacement can be found. Eddie is put on trial and plays the victim, recounting a hardscrabble upbringing and turning on the charm. Nevertheless, he is convicted of murder and sentenced to hang. From his jail cell, he can see the gallows being built. However, he begins to convince the townspeople that he is not guilty of murder and his death sentence should be changed to serving time in jail. Soon, many of the town's most prominent citizens are buying his story and they force Ben to take a petition bearing many signatures to the governor asking him to grant Eddie's request. Laurie, blinded by her romantic interest in Eddie, is his chief defender- a fact that causes Ben great consternation. Because this is a Western, there are dramatic developments that result in an action-packed climax.

What sets "Good Day for a Hanging" apart from many other minor Westerns of the period is the fact that it has a compelling and interesting script that touches upon sociological factors such as the ability of one person to manipulate many others, often against common sense, by using charisma and a strong will. Eddie has both and you can't help but be reminded of how many contemporary people, often in public service, are excused for all sorts of behavior simply because people find them personally likable or intimidating. Doubtless, there have been times when all of us have seen such scenarios and wondered how intelligent people can ignore established facts in their defense of someone whose actions are indefensible. In this case, Ben Cutler is 100% right in his testimony against Eddie but before long he is the odd man out, criticized and resented by the very people who only recently begged him to serve as marshal. Fred MacMurray gives a strong performance as the protagonist- a man who has lost the respect of his own daughter in her misguided quest to benefit a killer. Robert Vaughn gives an excellent, understated performance that allows the viewer to understand why he is able to win over so many townspeople.

It's interesting to analyze the career trajectories of several actors who appear in the film. Fred MacMurray had been going through somewhat of a minor career slump at the time but it would be short-lived. Later in 1959, he starred in his first Walt Disney movie, "The Shaggy Dog", which was a major hit. He would star in many other Disney films over the next decade. Additionally, he would give an outstanding performance as a misogynistic heel in Billy Wilder's Oscar winner, "The Apartment". Capping off his career turnaround, he would also star in the long-running sitcom "My Three Sons". Robert Vaughn would rise to stardom with his performance later that year in "The Young Philadelphians", earning an Oscar nomination for his work. That, in turn, led him to be cast as one of "The Magnificent Seven" and he would reach the level of international teen idol in the mid-Sixties due to his starring role in "The Man from U.N.C.L.E". Some of the fine character actors who would appear in the film would also find major success over the next few years. Howard McNear, who plays one of the prominent townsmen, would create his iconic comedic role as the eccentric Floyd the barber the next year in "The Andy Griffith Show". Denver Pyle, who plays  deputy in the film, would also make periodic appearances in the show as the lovably loony hillbilly patriarch Briscoe Darling, as well as appear in two major John Wayne films, "The Horse Soldiers" and "The Alamo" before landing his most memorable role as Sheriff Frank Hammer in "Bonnie and Clyde". James Drury, who would go on to star in "The Virginian" TV series, also has a supporting role. Special mention should be made of Edmon Ryan, who is especially good, portraying Eddie's defense counsel. One more note of interest: the film was produced by Charles H. Schneer, a respected figure in the British film industry who was most often associated with the films of special effects master Ray Harryhausen.

The Sony DVD has a reasonably good transfer, if a bit soft. The only extras are original trailers for "Silverado" and "The Professionals", both on Sony Home Video. Strangely enough, the trailer for "Good Day for a Hanging" isn't included, but we found it on YouTube and are providing it here. 

I don't want to exaggerate the merits of "Good Day for a Hanging". It isn't a great movie by any means, just a good Western- but it's loaded with fine actors who were on the cusp of major career successes.

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RETRO-ACTIVE: FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Tony Curtis, like most aspiring screen stars, slogged through bit parts in unmemorable films when he first broke into the industry in the late 1940s. By the mid-1950s, however, he was a major star, even if the films he top-lined were relatively undistinguished. With his boyish good looks and New York wise guy persona, Curtis excelled at playing charismatic rogues and, perhaps improbably for a guy born in the Bronx, cowboys, knights and other exotic men of action. But Curtis was more than just a pretty face and by the late 1950s he was getting challenging roles that allowed him to show off his dramatic acting skills. He was brilliant in "Sweet Smell of Success" and "The Defiant Ones" and gave one of the great comedic performances of all time in Billy Wilder's "Some Like It Hot". By the late 1960s, however, his star power was fading. He still had enough clout to get the male leads in lightweight comedies like "Sex and the Single Girl" and "Don't Make Waves", but the bloom was off the rose. Ironically, he won fine reviews for his convincing performance in the 1968 film "The Boston Strangler", but most of the good roles would continue to elude him. Like many fading American stars, he turned toward European productions, starring in "Those Daring Young Men in the Jaunty Jalopies" and "You Can't Win 'Em All", the latter with fellow U.S. import Charles Bronson who found major stardom in Europe long before he became a big name in America. One of the least prestigious films that Curtis appeared was titled "On the Way to the Crusades, I Met a Girl Who...", a 1967 sex comedy filmed in Italy and which would not be released in the USA until 1969, when it had limited distribution. Perhaps because theater owners in the UK and USA had pity on the poor souls who had to stand on ladders and put film titles on theater marquees letter-by-letter, the English language version of the film was shortened to the more provocative "The Chastity Belt". Curtis wasn't the only English-speaking actor in the otherwise all-Italian production, as Hugh Griffith and John Richardson were co-starred.

The film opens with Curtis playing against type as Guerrando de Montone, a sniveling, cowardly and bumbling opportunist who finally is granted his wish to be made a knight. As his reward, he is entitled to claim a vast tract of land as his own. Guerrando is quick to abuse his power over the peasants, especially when he discovers that the local game warden and his voluptuous daughter, Boccadoro (Monica Vitti) live on his land. Although Boccadoro is initially attracted to him, Guerrando's misogynistic ways quickly alienate her. Guerrando informs her that he is her lord and master and will use her for sexual pleasure whenever he pleases. Most of the fun in the script, which was co-written by the esteemed Larry Gelbart, centers on the buxom beauty's strategies to avoid going to bed with Guerrando, who becomes increasingly frustrated. To solve the problem, he forces her to marry him but she delays the consummation of the marriage by invoking a rare, ancient ritual that commits them both to spending three days in constant prayer. When that obstacle is removed, Guerrando is ready to make his move only to find that he has been summoned to join the Crusades and leave Italy for a period of years. To ensure that Boccadoro remains chaste, he has her fitted with a chastity belt which causes her to swear vengeance. The film meanders through the couple's misadventures with Boccadoro intent on finding her husband and murdering him. She poses as a knight in armor and infiltrates his camp but both are kidnapped by an evil, horny sultan (Hugh Griffith) who forces Guerrando to convert to Islam while he makes plans to open the chastity belt and have his way with Boccadoro.The whole thing ends in a madcap chase with heroes and villains chasing each other about a castle.

Italian cinema-goers were very enamored of sex farces during this period. "The Chasity Belt" is one of the tamest, as there is no nudity and the most provocative aspects are plentiful shots of Ms. Vitti's ample bosom bouncing around during the many chase scenes. Like most films of the genre, there are plenty of moments of slapstick and narrow escapes. What impresses most about this modest production is director Pasquale Festa Campanile's light touch and the ability to move the action at such a rapid pace that you don't ponder how predictable it all is. While it's still a bit of a shock to see someone of Curtis's stature in this "B" level comedy, he is in good form and provides plenty of laughs by not even attempting to disguise his New Yawk accent. He is matched by the very likable Vitti and Hugh Griffith, who recycles his lovable rascal shtick from "Ben-Hur". What is stands out most are the rather spectacular locations. Most of the action is shot outdoors in ancient ruins and castles that add a good deal of atmosphere to the goings on.

"The Chasity Belt" is the kind of film that Curtis probably did very reluctantly. He would later try his hand in television co-starring with Roger Moore in the sensational action series "The Persuaders", but it lasted only 24 episodes. A later series, "McCoy" lasted only a single season. Curtis would still turn up in a few major films like "The Mirror Crack'd" and "The Last Tycoon" but only in supporting roles. Nevertheless, he remained enjoyable to watch and always gave his best effort. Perhaps for that reason, "The Chastity Belt" is a lot more worthwhile than you might imagine.

The Warner Archive DVD is generally very good with a few blotches and grainy frames, but one suspects there aren't too many archival prints of this long-forgotten film floating around out there. There are no bonus extras.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Stella Stevens, who started in show business after overcoming the hardships of being a single mother at age 17, has passed away at age 84 after a lengthy battle with Alzheimer's Disease. Her death was announced by her son, actor and producer Andrews Stevens. She was born in Yazoo City, Mississippi and her family moved to Memphis when she was four years-old. By the time she was out of high school, she had been married and divorced and had a young son Stevens was always obsessed with movies and was eventually signed under contract with Fox. She earned a Golden Globe for her screen debut in the 1959 film "Say One for Me" as Most Promising Newcomer. With her voluptuous figure, she caught the eye of Hugh Hefner and she appeared as Playmate of the Month during 1960. She would two more photo shoots for the magazine in the years that followed. Fame eventually followed despite the fact that Fox, which had her under contract, released her from the agreement. She balked at co-starring with Elvis Presley in the 1964 film "Girls! Girls! Girls" because she felt the movie had a poor script. Nonetheless, she needed the money and the film was a high profile hit.

Stevens would go on to become an in-demand popular leading lady, appearing opposite the top male stars of the 1960s. She often was cast as a ditzy blonde but these roles proved she had considerable comedic skills. Among the movies she appeared in were "Too Late Blues", the Jerry Lewis comedy classic "The Nutty Professor", "Advance to the Rear", the first Dean Martin Matt Helm film "The Silencers" and again with Martin in "How to Save a Marriage and Ruin Your Life". She gave an impressive dramatic performance opposite David McCallum in the 1968 crime thriller "Sol Madrid" (aka "The Heroin Gang") and earned praise for her comedic skills in Sam Peckinpah's "The Ballad of Cable Hogue". In 1972, she was prominent in the all-star cast in the blockbuster disaster movie "The Poseidon Adventure", which spawned a fan cult that exists to this day. As the good roles began to diminish, Stevens found work in television, starring in the series "Flamingo Road" in the early 1980s. She would appear frequently in guest star roles on series in the ensuing years. Stevens desired to be a director but found few opportunities, though she did direct two low-budget films. Perhaps the her most impressive achievement was overcoming personal challenges through sheer determination to fulfill her dream of becoming a major star on the silver screen. For more about her life and career, click here.

(Welch in a publicity photo for the 1967 spy film "Fathom". (Cinema Retro Archive)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Raquel Welch, the actress who took the international film industry by storm with her appearance in the 1966 remake of the fantasy film "One Million Years B.C.", has passed away after a brief illness. Welch was one of the last of the so-called "Glamour Girls" of this period; actresses who were chosen primarily for their looks and measurements as opposed to their acting abilities. But Welch defied the odds and didn't prove to be a flash-in-the-pan in terms of popularity. She was one of the last of the big studio contract players- in this case 20th-Century-Fox, which meant she could only make films for another studio if Fox approved. She had little say over the films she appeared in during this period and she would later look back on them with disdain. However, retro movie fans would be largely defensive of many of these films, as they cast her opposite popular leading men of the period as Frank Sinatra, Ernest Borgnine, Stephen Boyd, Jim Brown, Burt Reynolds, Robert Wagner, Edward G. Robinson, James Stewart and Dean Martin. Among her best films of this era were "100 Rifles", "Fantastic Voyage", "Bandolero!", "The Biggest Bundle of them All" and "Lady in Cement".  Some were duds, such as the misguided thriller "Flareup" and the disastrous sex comedy "Myra Breckinridge". She became an instant pop culture icon due to the famous photo of her as a cavegirl sporting a fur bikini in "One Million Years B.C." Teenage boys around the world had the resulting poster adorning their bedroom walls. In the early 1970s, she played vengeance-driven female gunslinger in the Western "Hannie Caulder", a victim of Richard Burton's lady killer in "Bluebeard", a roller derby queen in "Kansas City Bomber" and a member of the all-star cast in the murder mystery "The Last of Sheila". By the mid-190's, she played a comedic co-starring role in the big budget version of "The Three Musketeers" and its sequel "The Four Musketeers". Critics finally acknowledged that she could act and should be judged by her talent and not her image as a voluptuous  sex symbol.

(Welch in her first leading role in "Fantastic Voyage" (1966). (Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)

When the prime big screen roles began to vanish, Welch suspected it may have been due to her suing MGM over age discrimination when she was fired as the leading lady in the film "Cannery Row" and replaced by Debra Winger. The studio countered that Welch had acted unprofessionally on the set. She won the case and $10 million in damages but it seemed to make studios reluctant to hire her again. Nevertheless, she successfully reinvented herself with live shows on stage including an acclaimed leading role in the Broadway production of "Victor/Victoria". She also scored with a funny self-deprecating appearance as herself in "Seinfeld" in which she was presented as an obnoxious, hot-tempered diva.

Welch kept a low profile in recent years and was rarely seen in public. She was married four times and is survived by a son and daughter. Despite her sex symbol image, she was always proud that she never gave in to offers to appear nude on screen or in print. She was the one who got away, said a disappointed Hugh Hefner who couldn't use influence or money to lure her to the pages of Playboy.

For more on her life and career, click here.

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

By Lee Pfeiffer

You don't have to be gay to admire John Schlesinger's 1971 film Sunday Bloody Sunday but it probably helps in terms of appreciating just how ground-breaking the movie was in its day. As a straight guy of high school age when the film was released, I do remember it causing a sensation, although it would literally take me many years before I finally caught up with the film. Gay friends always spoke reverently of the movie and expressed how the most refreshing aspect of the story was how normally a loving relationship between two adult men was portrayed. In viewing the film as a Criterion Blu-ray release, I feel I can finally appreciate that point of view. Gay men have long been portrayed in movies, of course, but for the most part they had been depicted as objects of ridicule or as sexual deviants. There were the odd attempts to present gay characters as sympathetic in films such as The Trials of Oscar Wilde and the brilliant Victim. Yet, even these fine efforts present homosexuality as a burden those "afflicted" must bear. Stanley Donen's 169 film Staircase offered fascinating and bold performances by Rex Harrison and Richard Burton as two aging queens. However, the studio marketing campaign over-emphasized the oddity of two of the film industry's great lady's men playing a gay couple. In fact, the ad campaign showed Burton and "Sexy Rexy" giddily dancing, thus falsely conveying that the film was a comedic romp instead of a poignant and intelligent look at loving homosexual relationship. Schlesinger, one of the first unapologetic directors to come out of the closet (if, indeed, he was ever in one), decided that the most daring aspect of this highly personal film would be in its very ordinariness. The story covers a complicated love triangle between three disparate people. Dr. Daniel Hirsh (Peter Finch) is a middle-aged, Jewish London doctor who is involved romantically with a much younger man, Bob Elkin (Murray Head). Hirsh doesn't flaunt his homosexuality, nor does he attempt to painstakingly deny it. He just lives his life as a respected member of his community, although it is clear his family thinks he's straight. (In one amusing, though uncomfortable sequence, Hirsh attends a Bar Mitzvah and has to endure attempts by nosy female relatives to set him up with his "dream girl"). The relationship between Hirsh and Bob is fairly intense, but is compromised by one uncomfortable fact: Bob is bi-sexual and is carrying on an equally intense love affair with an older woman, Alex Greville (Glenda Jackson). Both Hirsh and Alex know about each other and (barely) tolerate the triangle as the price of having Bob in their lives. For his part, Bob is a rather self-absorbed young man who seems to have genuine affection for both of his lovers, but is also either oblivious or uncaring about how the uncertainties of the relationship are affecting their psychological well-being. 

Sunday Bloody Sunday was released a time when the gay rights movement was moving into high gear in the post-Stonewall period. It illustrates why the 1970s is regarded by many as the most liberating decade in film history, with old line directors like Hawks, Welles and Hitchcock working at the same time young turks like Schlesinger were shaking things up in a way the old masters never had the opportunity to do, thanks to the restrictive motion picture code. Sunday is primarily remembered for an eyebrow-raising scene in which Hirsh and Bob engage in a romantic kiss. There's nothing sensational about the tasteful way in which this rather routine gesture between lovers is presented on screen. In fact, it was the sheer lack of sensationalism that drove home Schlesinger's primary message: that loving gestures between gay men can be every bit as routine as they are between husband and wife. The fact that the kiss was enacted by two straight actors did add considerable gravitas to the moment and must have caused more than one straight viewer to think "Well, if they don't care about enacting such a scene, why should I feel uncomfortable watching it?"  Schlesinger also dared to film tasteful but passionate bedroom scenes between Bob and Hirsh. Nevertheless, nothing much actually  happens in Sunday Bloody Sunday. The story was based in part on real-life experiences and people from Schlesinger's own life. The story merely traces the ups and downs in the love triangle as Bob causes panic in both Hirsh and Alex by announcing he is thinking of moving to America. Hirsh and Alex do have an unexpected face-to-face meeting during this crisis and their sheer civility and inability to engage in more than light banter only adds to the dramatic tension. 

The primary attribute of the film, aside from Schlesinger's spot-on direction, is the brilliance of the performances. Glenda Jackson was then emerging as a national treasure for the British film industry and the little-known Murray Head acquits himself very well indeed. However, it is Peter Finch's performance that dominates the movie as we watch his character go from loving acceptance of Bob's youthful self-absorbing actions to downright fury as his realization that Bob will never have the same passion for him. It's a superb performance on every level. Some viewers find the film's bizarre final sequence in which Hirsh addresses the viewer directly about his philosophy of life, but I found it to be a distraction and somewhat confusing. Nevertheless, this is a fine film, worthy of the praise it has generated over the years, and one that remains remarkably timely today.

The Criterion Blu-ray is right up to the company's top-notch standards. The transfer is beautiful and there are the usual informative extras including:

• New interviews with Murray Head (who says that, as a young actor, he found his character to be rather despicable), cinematographer Billy Williams (who supervised the Blu-ray transfer), production designer Luciana Arrighi, Schlesinger biographer William J. Mann and the director's long-time partner, photographer Michael Childers who shot many of the great production stills for the film.
• A 1975 audio interview with Schlesinger
• Screenwriter Penelope Gillatt's original introduction to the published screenplay (there is plenty of coverage throughout the Blu-ray concerning the tense working relationship between Gillatt and Schlesinger, who accused the writer of taking the lion's share of credit for a screenplay he had extensively rewritten.)
• The original theatrical trailer
• Extensive liner notes by writer Ian Buruma, Schlesinger's nephew who appeared as an extra in the film.

In all, an outstanding tribute to an outstanding work by one of the era's great filmmakers.  

Click here to order from Amazon. The film is also currently streaming on the Screenpix app, available for $2.99 a month through Amazon Prime, Roku and Apple TV.

By Lee Pfeiffer

If you asked anyone who is a fan of Sixties spy movies "In what film did Donald Pleasence play a rich, brilliant international criminal mastermind?", the answer would be obvious: "You Only Live Twice", in which Pleasence portrayed the evil Spectre mastermind Ernst Stavro Blofeld. However, there is another answer that would be equally correct: "Matchless", an unheralded long-forgotten spy spoof made by Italians and shot in such diverse locations as Germany, America and England. Pleasence plays Gregori Andreanu, the main villain of the piece, but he doesn't appear until well into the running time. The film opens with American journalist Perry Liston being creatively tortured by Communist Chinese soldiers who suspect he is a spy. In reality, Liston writes a popular newspaper column under the nom de plume "Matchless", the significance of which is never explained- along with other key plot points. For example, I don't recall if Liston ever does explain to anyone why he is China, but in this fast-moving comedy-adventure, plot points come and go with such rapidity that they may well be regarded as dispensable. While in jail, Liston shows pity on a fellow prisoner, an elderly Chinese man who, before dying, bequeaths to him a magic ring that will allow the wearer to become invisible. There are only two catches: the invisibility only lasts for 20 minutes and can only be utilized once every ten hours. (The team of five screenwriters must have been under the influence of something drinkable to come up with this zany concept.) Much to Liston's surprise, the device works and he escapes from prison, conveniently hiding in a nearby house that happens to belong to a single, gorgeous, horny young woman who even more conveniently happens to be taking a shower. She is startled by Liston's ability to be invisible but not for long. Once he appears in the flesh, it's under the covers for both of them. 

The scene then switches to the United States where high level military personnel are subjecting Liston to the same torture applied by the Chinese, which involves tying the victim to a large canister that revolves at lightning speed in much the same way you get a paint can mixed at Home Depot. Again, I can't recall if it's explained how Liston ended up in the U.S. and why he is being tortured, but he is quickly enlisted by two members of the top Army brass, General Shapiro (Howard St. John) and his fawning sidekick Colonel Coolpepper (Sorel Brooke) to undertake a dangerous mission to Europe where he is to ingratiate himself with Andreanu, secure his confidence and somehow steal of case of chemical vials in his possession (though it's never explained what they are or why they are dangerous to the world.) Liston agrees and sets off to London, where somehow he is stalked for assassination by Hank Norris (Henry Silva), an American who was in the Chinese prison. How did he get out and become an assassin? Who knows. Just go with the flow. From there, the unflappable and capable Liston encounters deceitful, beautiful women and numerous villains in between making a series of narrow escapes thanks to his ability to temporarily become invisible. (One downside to the ability is that his clothes remain visible, so each time he wants to disappear, he has to ditch his clothing and often reemerge naked, a running gag used throughout the film.) When Liston finally meets Andreanu, they both pretend they like each other while following the old spy movie tradition of having each man obviously know that the other is his mortal enemy. 

"Matchless" is an off-the-charts weird movie in every sense but it's also a lot of fun. Patrick O'Neal, who rarely scored a leading role in his career as a popular supporting actor, is well cast here. He seems to be having a ball playing a hero who is more Derek Flint than Bond. He's handsome, debonair and has the ability to toss out bon mots even when staring at deadly threats. Donald Pleasence gets an equally rare chance to show his comedic abilities and he's delightful playing an eccentric and ruthless megalomaniac. As with most of these lower-grade Bond-inspired spy flicks of the era, this one makes up for its shortcomings by supplying an endless bevy scantily clad women including Ira von Furstenberg (a real life princess), Nicoletta Machiavelli and Elisabeth Wu, who between them expose heaving bosoms and plenty of flesh, all the while dolled up in those marvelous mod fashions of the era. There are cheesy attempts to emulate Maurice Binder's trademark James Bond opening credits and an equally cheesy Bond-style title song ( future legend Ennio Morricone was one of the three credited composers). But the production values are better than you might imagine and the stunts and action scenes work quite well. (Liston utilizes an amphibious car a full decade before Bond did in "The Spy Who Loved Me"). Director Alberto Lattuada keeps the action going non-stop and makes the most of the Continental appeal of the European locations. One of the funniest aspects of the film is unintentional: the dubbing is terrible to the point of being of laugh-out-loud caliber. It appears that everyone other than O'Neal and Pleasence has been dubbed, including (inexplicably) Henry Silva, who was an American actor of repute. Silva gives a maniacal and very funny performance and, as with Pleasence, he seems to be relishing the opportunity to play a comedic role. 

It should be noted that the deceitful American marketing campaign disguised the fact that "Matchless" is a comedy and presented it as straight spy thriller. One can only imagine the reaction of the gobsmacked viewers who were expecting a tense Cold War thriller and instead were treated to a film that was more akin to a Jerry Lewis production. I don't want to overstate the attributes of "Matchless" but it is an unexpectedly enjoyable romp. If you're idea of good viewing is "Operation Kid Brother", then this one is for you.

(The film is currently streaming on Screenpix, a subscription service available through Amazon Prime, Roku, YouTube and Apple TV for $2.99 a month.)

By Hank Reineke

In the autumn of 1963 the Macmillan Co. published Rohan O’ Grady’s third suspense novel Let’s Kill Uncle. The book’s appearance was certain to command some critical and public notice: the dust jacket and title page was adorned with the idiosyncratic illustrations of Edward Gorey. The cover blurb offered a small glimpse of what awaited readers: “In an idyllic, peaceful island setting two charming children on summer holiday conspire to execute the perfect murder – and get away with it.” Though a macabre premise, the book was well-received, the Baltimore Sun, Boston Globe, Pittsburgh Press, New York Newsday and Chicago Tribune singing its praises. Toronto’s Globe and Mail crowed Let’s Kill Uncle was “the jolliest thriller of any year.”

One fan of the novel was the producer-director William Castle, the undisputed grifting King of Ballyhoo. Castle optioned the property shortly after its appearance with no immediate plans for production set. After scoring handsomely with his 1959 indie House on Haunted Hill with Vincent Price, Castle had signed on with Columbia Pictures for a four-film deal in March of 1959 (later extended beyond the original four pics). Between 1959 and 1964 Castle delivered such popcorn-munching guilty-pleasures as The Tingler, 13 Ghosts, Mr. Sardonicus, and Strait-Jacket, amongst others. Then, in October 1963, Universal Picture’s Vice-President of Production, Edward Muhl, signed Castle to a three-picture deal for a series of “cost-control” films.

Castle’s trio of films for Uni were less celebrated and money-spinning than his earlier efforts. His second and most recent effort for the studio, I Saw What You Did (1965) did little to buffer his reputation as a filmmaker nor cash-cow guarantor. As one critic from the Los Angeles Times sulked, “I Saw What You Did, William Castle, and as usual I am not impressed.” Castle’s final film in his three-pic contract would be Let’s Kill Uncle. By all indicators, the production of Let’s Kill Uncle would be a rushed affair. One Hollywood correspondent – having already visited director Brian G. Hutton rehearsing his cast on the set of The Pad – chose to drop by the adjourning soundstage where first-day shooting of Let’s Kill Uncle was in process. The columnist was quick to note the film’s “rough edges” were already showing. The writer noted the fast and frugal Castle had already shot more film during his brief visit than Hutton would shoot in an entire day.

Castle had reason to work quickly. In October of 1965, Variety reported the director/producer was soon to again jump ship, having just inked a multi-picture deal with Paramount. That contract called for Castle to report to his new bosses on New Year’s Day 1966. Though Castle was scheduled to begin work on Let’s Kill Uncle on December 10, 1965, actual production evidently would not commence until December 20. The clock was ticking.

One reason for the delay was Castle’s decision to wait on the availability of “moppet Mary Badham,” the child actress cast as “Chrissie” in the film. The thirteen-year old was not yet finished completing work on Sydney Pollack’s drama This Property is Condemned with Natalie Wood, Robert Redford and Charles Bronson. Another thirteen-year-old, Pat Cardi, was to join the cast as Barnaby Harrison, the principal target of his black-hearted Uncle, Major Kevin Harrison (Nigel Green). Though Cardi’s name was a mostly unfamiliar one, his face certainly was. The child actor was frequently seen on television screens in a cavalcade of small roles. Linda Lawson, cast to play Chrissie’s aunt Justine, was a virtual novice looking for a break. Castle had met Lawson four years earlier when she delivered mail to him at his Columbia Pictures office.

It’s unclear if Nigel Green was originally sought out by Castle to play the “Uncle” role. There were reports as late as December that Leslie Nielsen “had worked out his shooting schedule on Beau Geste so he can accept a role in Uncle.” If indeed Nelson was Castle’s first choice to play the Major, the resulting film - as it stands - might have benefited from the actor’s gift for light-comedy. Whatever the case, Green – just recently seen as another “Major” in the Len Deighton/Sidney J. Furie production of the spy-thriller The Ipcress File (1965) – was brought on. Green’s comedic skills were not his strong suit, and it wasn’t the best bit of casting. But then everything about Let’s Kill Uncle seems a bit askew.

The shortcomings of this film weighed heavily on the scripting. Castle’s schedule 1963-1965 was a particularly busy one, so it’s not surprising his optioning of Let’s Kill Uncle was not exercised immediately. In April of 1965 things started moving, Variety reporting the playwright Robert L. Joseph had been conscripted to adapt O’ Grady’s book as a film treatment, with tentative plans to start production sometime “next summer.” Whatever the circumstances, Joseph’s treatment – if submitted at all – was found not up-to-snuff. The responsibility of delivering a workable adaptation fell to Mark Rodgers, a writer almost exclusively known for his work on television.

It was, to be fair, a tough work to adapt, as the grim humor and dark whimsy of O’ Grady’s novel was seamlessly embroidered into a textual tapestry – a bit of psychological chess-game plotting not easy to convey visually. Castle chose to dispense and/or modify many of the novels’ original elements. The setting of the novel is an island off of the Canadian Pacific coast, there are Mounties trooping about, the treacherous Uncle” is named “Sylvester,” and there’s even a “soliloquizing” talking cougar named “One-Eye.” The filmmakers of Let’s Kill Uncle chose to move the action to an un-named sub-tropical location of palm trees and bananas, there’s no Mounties or (worse yet!) a talking cougar. The killer Uncle’s moniker was changed from Sylvester to “Kevin Harrison.” (As has “Chrissie’s.” She’s “Christie” in the novel).

While these small name changes don’t really figure in or matter to the final product, the absence of “One-Eye” is unforgivable. As is the lack of suspense one might have expected. The only good thing about moving the locale from the Canadian coast to the tropics is the welcome – if brief - appearance of Nestor Paiva as the Steward of the steamer bringing Barnaby and Chrissie to their new island homes. Paiva, one might recall, was the captain of the Rita, the ship slow-trolling the wilds of the Amazon in search of The Creature from the Black Lagoon. It’s Nestor who informs young Barnaby that the island is cursed, which isn’t too far off the mark, at least for him.

The film never really catches fire. I was hoping to glean Castle’s thoughts on Let’s Kill Uncle in his memoir Step Right Up! I’m Gonna Scare the Pants Off America, but the director/producer makes no mention of the film’s production nor reception in the book. The slight filmography in his book’s back pages gives Let’s Kill Uncle only the briefest of notice: “Technicolor murder movie starring kids and Nigel Green.” (It should be noted Director of Photography Harold Lipstein delivers a film of eye-popping color saturation, the film’s singular saving grace).

The film was mostly dismissed by critics upon its release – but there were a few actually enjoyed it. One critic from Box Office mulled the film’s failure was due to the “scene-chewing and downright brattish character traits” of Cardi and Badham, that the “homicidal plans” of Uncle Kevin might have proved “a blessing in disguise” had they been carried out. I generally like William Castle’s shoestring 1960’s psycho-horrors as much as the next guy (assuming that “next guy” also has lowbrow tastes in cinema), but I found the ninety-two minutes of Let’s Kill Uncle a slow torture. Castle’s fans will at least enjoy the bonus featurette Mr. Castle and Me: An Interview with Actor Pat Cardi, which offer a small peek behind the curtain.

This Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu-ray edition of Let’s Kill Uncle is presented in 1920 x 1080p, with a ratio of 1.85:1, dts sound, and removable English sub-titles. The film looks absolutely brilliant, Kino having struck the print from a “Brand New 2K Master.” The set rounds off with two theatrical trailers of the film as well as the commentaries of film historians Kat Ellinger (Diabolique magazine) and the (now sadly recently deceased) author of Teen Movie Hell, Mike McPadden.

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By Todd Garbarini

We have all had those days where nothing, literally nothing, ever seems to go right. As we leave the comfort of childhood and make our way into the battlefield of adolescence and then ultimately into the often-nonsensical world of the adult, the issues that we face grow daily and exponentially. Traveling during the holidays is a small albeit often infuriating annual torture that most of us put ourselves through (often begrudgingly) for purposes of keeping the peace with significant others or ensuring that our names are included in our relatives’ last wills and testaments or for other reasons too numerous to entertain.

One of the most traveled days of the year in the United States is indubitably Thanksgiving. Cinematic depictions of the Fourth Thursday of November tend to mirror the insanity of hosting a meal for family members while others are more innocuous. The fine Showtime series Brotherhood from the mid-aughts depicts the inner workings of a Rhode Island family embroiled in politics and organized crime, two areas they excel in, though in the twentieth episode of the series no one can seem to cook a Thanksgiving turkey to save their life. Woody Allen’s Hannah and Her Sisters (1986) is a rare outing that paints Thanksgiving the way that it should be (though I would have thrown in a TV somewhere on the set with a broadcast of March of the Wooden Soldiers (1934) for good measure).

A scenario that anyone who has traveled by public transportation prior to the holiday can easily relate to is the marathon run by Neal Page (Steve Martin) which begins innocently enough as he attempts to casually bolt from a soporific advertising meeting with a New York client to make his way back home to Chicago in the late John Hughes’s comedy Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, which was released on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving in 1987. Neal manages to hail a cab, but it is commandeered by another passenger at the last minute. Making his way to JFK Airport, Neal sits opposite the very person who took the cab he wanted, a jovial and highly talkative shower curtain ring salesman named Del Griffith (John Candy). In true-to-life form, Neal and Del sit next to one another in the plane. Del chews Neal’s ear off because he loves talking, and this quality makes him an expert sales rep. Neal grimaces and does his best to hide his umbrage when Del removes his shoes and socks which, while comedic in the film, has now become a common breach of etiquette on flights to the point that airplane personnel should be given permission to discharge the offenders down the inflatable raft prior to take off. A snowstorm hijacks their plans, and the plane is rerouted to Wichita, KS wherein they share not only a motel room, but the same bed.

Del’s idiosyncrasies come to light and receives a hasher-than-expected tongue lashing from Neal who just wants to get home and whose intolerance for the situation at hand is slowly reaching a boiling point. A burglar swipes cash from both of their wallets limiting their options to get back home. Despite an amusing and understandable vituperative outburst laden with F-bombs that Neal suffers at the airport counter (the sole reason for the film’s unfair R-rating), Planes ends with a heartfelt and emotional denouement that anticipates Martin Brest’s best film, Midnight Run (1988), another great “road” comedy film that also has an emotional story at its center – to say nothing of both films’ uses of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall”.

Planes has been released on home video a multitude of times in all recent formats. Its latest incarnation is in the form of a two-disc set. The first disc contains a 4K Ultra High Definition (UHD) Blu-ray and presents the film in Dolby Vision and High Dynamic Range (HDR). Other reviewers have complained about the picture quality and its lack of color(?), but it looked fine on my 4K setup. For the subject matter and the age of the film, I believe that one could do much worse. Among the extras on this disc:

Getting There is Half the Fun: The Story of Planes, Trains and Automobiles – this piece runs about 17 minutes and is a panel discussion from the time of the film’s release with reporters and the stars and director, interspersed with comments from the supporting performers. Mr. Hughes was initially a writer for National Lampoon Magazine and his articles brought him to screenwriting.

John Hughes: Life Moves Pretty Fast – this is a roughly 54-minute piece that, unfortunately, is told in the past tense as Mr. Hughes tragically passed away in New York at the age of 59 while jogging in August 2009. Much of the interviews in this piece are reminiscences about working with him and are tinged with poignancy and sadness. It is comprised of two smaller pieces: John Hughes: The Voice of a Generation and Heartbreak and Triumph: The Legacy of John Hughes.

John Hughes for Adults – this piece is four minutes and discusses his transition from making movies about young adults (he hates the word “teenagers”) to films for adults.

A Tribute to John Candy – this is a three-minute tribute to this comic who brought out the best in those he worked with.

The second disc is where this release really shines. This is a standard Blu-ray disc (BD) in 1080p very cleverly titled Lost Luggage that contains a treasure trove of both deleted scenes and extended scenes that made their way on to the proverbial cutting room floor. Aside from one sequence that contains a hilarious visual gag that I refuse to spoil (it is HD quality and is in finished form), all the other presented scenes are taken from VHS cassettes found in director Hughes’ archives/estate. While the video quality is what you would expect from VHS, all the scenes seem to be mined from raw footage and lacks sound effects and are by no means a finished product. However, despite this drawback, the footage presented is entertaining and definitely worth seeing. It also includes Dylan Baker’s onscreen audition for Owen, as well as more extended blabbering from Del in Neal’s ear prior to takeoff. I wish that they had also included onscreen bloopers.

True fans of this film should splurge for the upgrade for this reason alone. John Candy was a treasure, and his absence is truly missed and still felt today.

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Photo: Montclair Film.

By Lee Pfeiffer 

Brendan Fraser started as most actors do, trying to land supporting roles in high profile films. He landed the leading role in low-brow 1992 comedy "Encino Man" in which he played a caveman in the modern era. Over the next few years, he worked steadily- if unevenly- in a range of films that failed to score at the boxoffice. That changed in 1997 when he played the role of George of the Jungle, a big screen adaptation of a 1960s cartoon series. With his hunky good looks, athletic physique and ability to perform difficult stunts, Fraser was in demand when the film proved to be a hit. More successes followed with "The Mummy" and its sequel. Fraser excelled in playing genial, if fallible action heroes and romantic leads, but he also proved he had the talent to portray dramatic characters as well, as evidenced by his acclaimed performances in "Gods and Monsters" and "The Quiet American". He also won plaudits for his performance as Brick in a 2001 stage production of Tennessee Williams' classic "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof". Then things slowed down. A few modest hits aside, Fraser appeared mostly in forgettable films and in supporting roles in TV productions. A volatile divorce, medical consequences from the many stunts her performed earlier in his career and other personal challenges led to him virtually dropping out of sight a few years ago. Fans who had grown up on his work in the 1990s speculated that he might soon fit into the "Whatever happened to?" category. His much-anticipated role as a villain in the "Batgirl" feature film was a casualty of Warner Brothers' decision to cancel the unfinished film. But Fraser has had plenty to be happy about recently. He landed a major role in Martin Scorsese's currently-filming "Killers of the Flower Moon" and has recently generated Oscar buzz for his leading role in director Darren Aronofsky's dramatic film "The Whale", which premiered last month at the Venice Film Festival to a six-minute standing ovation.

I joined my fellow ink-stained wretches of the press for a screening of the film last Sunday at The Montclair Film Festival in New Jersey. Fraser was on hand to be interviewed by Stephen Colbert, who resides in Montclair and who, along with his wife Evelyn, have been major players in the creation of the film festival, which holds screenings in two local historic theaters, the one-time Cinerama showcase The Claridge and the Wellmont, a grand old venue where this event took place. The cavernous Wellmont had a packed house and the crowd was made up of true cinephiles, as evidenced by their rapt attention to the film and the interview that followed. Nobody was texting, talking or otherwise distracting from the proceedings, despite the fact that there were three bars on site dispensing plenty of adult beverages. This was my first time attending the festival and I was impressed by the atmosphere and choice of venues.

As for "The Whale", like many critics, I found myself with mixed feelings. The primary reason to see the film is because of Fraser's justifiably acclaimed performance. It has been noted that the actor is now more beefy than beefcake but don't confuse Fraser with Charlie, the character he plays in the film, who is a 600-pound man confined to his apartment. Fraser required a rather amazing prosthetic "fat suit" as well as some convincing CGI effects to convincingly play a person this morbidly obese. The film opens on a jarring note. Charlie is slouched in his couch masturbating to a gay porn video, and his aroused state almost causes his death. In fact, virtually every movement is a challenge for Charlie, a kindhearted man whose only regular connection to society is his job teaching an online college course in literature via Zoom. Because he is ashamed of his appearance, he tells his students that his camera is broken. He can see them, but they can't see him, which unintentionally allows him to create an air of mystery about his persona. Charlie is obsessed with Herman Melville's "Moby Dick", and the analogy between the great white whale and his own physical state is obvious. Charlie receives a visit from a young evangelist, Thomas (Ty Simpkins) who ostensibly is there to spread the word from the Good Book but who ends up assisting and befriending Charlie, while keeping a secret about his own background. Next in line to visit is Ellie (Sadie Sink), Charlie's estranged teenage daughter who lugs a pretty good number of plot devices in the door with her. Seems Charlie was once married but left Sadie and her mother when she was very young when he came out of the closet and lived with his lover, who is now deceased and whose memory leaves Charlie in a constant state of despair. This first plot contrivance doesn't hold up for the simple reason that Charlie and his wife and daughter all still live in the same town, so it seems unlikely they would have had no social interaction until now. Next up among the visitors is Liz (Hong Chau), a saucy, no-nonsense nurse who happens to be a personal friend of Charlie. In between looking after his endless medical needs, she lectures him about his health to little avail. Rounding out the parade of eccentric troubadours dropping in on this mini Grand Central Station is Charlie's ex-wife Mary (Samantha Morton), who discusses their mutual concerns about Ellie's rebellious nature and self-destructive tendencies, all of which are squarely blamed on Charlie's negligence toward her.

"The Whale" is based on Samuel D. Hunter's stage play and film looks very much like a filmed stage production. There are precious few exterior shots and the murky interior cinematography by Matthew Libatique, combined with Ron Simonsen's eerie score, results in the mood of a horror film being prevalent. Hunter's screenplay and Aronofsky's direction tip off all but the most gullible viewer that their emotions are being exploited in a naked and shameless manner. Nothing wrong with that. Chaplin did the same with the final scene of "City Lights", as the Little Tramp unveils his identity to his once-blind paramour in a scene that may be the most touching in screen history. But "The Whale" is loaded up with a lot of contrived crises. Charlie is a sympathetic figure throughout but Ellie is painted as the Cruella DeVil of the high school set, a  one-note character that you try in vain to find redeeming qualities in. She even charges her own father money in order to spend time with her. Director Aronofsky has Sadie Sink go for the rafters in terms of her cruelty but we know from minute one that at some point she'll fall for young Thomas in another improbable plot twist. The actors can't be faulted. They're just following orders. The only believable character aside from Charlie is Liz the nurse and Hong Chau registers strongly in the role. The most affecting scenes are those centering on Charlie as an individual, as we watch seemingly mundane actions such as attempting to stand up evolve into "Mission: Impossible"-like scenarios. It's painful to watch Fraser, but that's the point. Regardless of the film's flaws, his performance is flawless. "The Whale" isn't the first film to portray morbidly obese people in a sympathetic fashion. Director Anne Bancroft's 1979 film "Fatso" did so through a serio-comedic lens. "The Whale", however, provides precious few reasons to smile.   

Following the screening, Brendan Fraser and Stephen Colbert took to the stage to Fraser's latest standing ovation. He appeared genuinely moved and in discussion with Colbert, it became clear how grateful he is to have been cast as Charlie. The chat reinforced Fraser's image as a Mister Nice Guy and to Colbert's credit, he suppressed his comedic side and did nothing to overshadow Fraser in any way. The interview was enjoyable and insightful.  

"The Whale" is a flawed film but no so flawed that it can't be recommended for those who seek a moving, if manipulative drama, as well as the performance of a lifetime by Brendan Fraser.

The film will open on December 9.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

When they say "They don't make 'em like that anymore" it could well be in reference to "The Honey Pot", a delightful 1967 concoction.The film is the kind of star-studded comedy/mystery that has recently made a comeback through the "Knives Out" movies. However, this film barely registers in the minds of most movie-goers and was not successful when it was first released. (The studio even reissued it under a new title, "It Comes Up Murder".) The project was cursed from the beginning. The original cinematographer, Gianni Di Venanzo, died before production was completed. When the film was released in select engagements, the running time was 150 minutes, which was deemed to be far too long for this modest enterprise that is confined largely to interiors. For general release, 18 minutes were cut, although some of those scenes still appeared in lobby cards advertising the movie. One well-known character actor, Herschel Bernardi, had his entire role eliminated. Additionally, the film's producer Charles K. Feldman was under a great deal of stress, as he was simultaneously overseeing production on his bloated, out-of-control spoof version of the James Bond novel "Casino Royale". Yet, what emerges somehow managed to end up being quite entertaining, thanks in no small part to the larger-than-life Rex Harrison having a field day playing an equally larger-than-life rich cad. Essentially, he's playing Henry Higgins from "My Fair Lady" once again- only this time with a more devious streak. Both characters are filthy rich. Both are erudite and sophisticated snobs who devise cruel games involving innocents in return for his own self-amusement. Harrison is a wicked but lovable character. You can't help cheering him on despite his lack of ethical convictions.

The film, written and directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, is cobbled together from Frederick Knotts' play "Mr. Fox of Venice" and Thomas Sterling's novel "The Evil of the Day" with a healthy dose of Ben Johnson's play "Volpone" tossed in. In fact the film opens with Harrison as the pretentiously-named Cecil Sheridan Fox enjoying a performance of "Volpone" at a magnificent Venetian theater. The camera pans back to show that this is a private performance for Fox alone. He stops the play before the finale, thanks the cast members for a spirited production and leaves the scene. Yes, he's that rich. We soon learn that he is using elements of "Volpone" to orchestrate an elaborate and expensive practical joke. The first step comes when he hires an unemployed American actor, William McFly (Cliff Robertson) to be his hired hand. He informs McFly that he must pose as Fox's long-time major domo in his elaborate mansion house, which is impressively located right on one of the canals. Fox explains to McFly that he has written to three former lovers and told them he is terminally ill. None of the women know that the others have been informed. He reasons that they will all make a bee-line directly to him, ostensibly to care for him, but in reality in hopes of inheriting his fortune. First on his list is Lone Star Crockett (Susan Hayward), who Fox wooed when she was a wild teenager. In the course of their affair, he put her on the road to a life of luxury and pleasure. Then there is Princess Dominique (Capucine), an exotic beauty who is in a troubled marriage and Merle McGill (Edie Adams), a famous but fading movie star. On the surface, all three of these women are independently wealthy and shouldn't need his fortune. But he suspects that, in reality, all are in some degree of financial distress and he wants to see if they will compete with each other to earn his favor. Sure enough, each of the ladies arrive at his home and are surprised to see they have two female competitors. Lone Star is now a cranky hypochondriac who requires constant pampering from her ever-present companion, a spinster named Sarah Watkins (Maggie Smith). Dominique tries to put on an air of self-assurance and Merle is a wise-cracking cynic. All of them individually express their sympathies to Fox and there is even the occasional attempt at seduction. Fox puts on a show that he is desperately ill and even sits in bed affixed to an oxygen tank. In private, however, he blasts classical music and dances around the room, delighted that his perceptions of human behavior are proving to be true. The plot takes several major swings in due course, however, when one of the women ends up dead, ostensibly from an overdose of sleeping pills. However, McFly and Sarah suspect murder is afoot. The film then becomes one of those time-honored drawing room mysteries with upper crust characters matching wits with the local inspector (Adolfo Celi, marvelous in a rare comedic role.) 

To describe the plot in any further detail would necessitate providing some spoilers. Suffice it to say there are plenty of red herrings and a complex plot that will demand your constant attention or you will be hopelessly lost.  

The performances are all first rate, though Capucine (never one who mastered the light touch that these sorts of comedies require) is a bit stiff. However, Hayward and Adams pick up the slack with very funny characterizations. The scene stealer among the women, however, is Maggie Smith, who is more streetwise than any of the others suspect. As for Harrison, he seems to be having a genuine ball, chewing the scenery and dispensing bon mots that are consistently amusing. The sequence in which he dances around his bed chamber is one for the ages. 

"The Honey Pot" deserved a better fate than it received when it was released theatrically. Hopefully it will get a more appreciative audience through streaming and a Kino Lorber Blu-ray that is available.

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Cinema Retro has received the following press release. Since our magazine is edited in New Jersey, we look forward to seeing this ultimate “Jersey Guy” documentary.

Banded Together: The Boys From Glen Rock High

Reunite on Hometown New Jersey High School Stage 50 Years Later

You Never Know What Those Crazy Kids May Grow Up to Be!

Feature Documentary Makes World Premiere Oct. 29^th & 30^th at Montclair Film Festival;

Featuring: Lee Shapiro, Jimmy Vivino, John Feeney, Jerry Vivino, Frank Pagano, Uncle Floyd Vivino, Doug Romoff, Jeff Venho, Joe Sielski & Conan O'Brien.

LOS ANGELES — Oct. 21, 2022 — For Immediate Release: Having all established high-profile careers in the music industry, eight men reunite 50 years later to jam on their high school auditorium stage in idyllic Glen Rock, NJ, and look back on what a strange ride it’s been in Banded Together: The Boys From Glen Rock High.

Directed, produced and edited by Academy Award-nominated and Emmy Award-winning documentarian Barry Rubinow (Red Grooms: Sunflower in a Hothouse, Beakman’s World), this full-length documentary is an official selection of the Montclair Film Festival (Oct. 21-30). Moved to a bigger theater to accommodate demand, the film will make its world premiere Saturday, Oct. 29 at 6:30 p.m. and Sunday Oct. 30 at noon.

About Banded Together: The Boys From Glen Rock High ...

Once upon a time, in the small, Mayberry-esque town of Glen Rock, NJ, 25 miles and a world away from New York City, a group of friends from high school joined the music department—some commanded to do so by their parents or in lieu of receiving detention—with adolescent dreams of making it in “the biz.”

From the launch pad of their garage band gatherings and unassuming high school auditorium, each of them today—Lee Shapiro, Jimmy Vivino, John Feeney, Jerry Vivino, Frank Pagano, Uncle Floyd Vivino, Doug Romoff and Jeff Venho—perform at the highest levels of the music industry ... from the main stage of the Tonight Show With Conan O’Brien (who appears in the film) to hosting their own show to writing some of the industry’s most successful songs to performing in arenas with such iconic artists as Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons, The Allman Brothers, Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen, Donald Fagen and Jimmy Buffet, to name a few. [short bios, pg. 2]

The remarkable story of a true band of brothers, a group of close friends who bonded through music, reuniting for a concert in the same auditorium where they wowed their teachers and fellow students 50 years ago. Along the way, we learn about their individual journeys and their remarkable successes, all heavily influenced by their time at Glen Rock High School, under the tutelage of their beloved music teacher and bandleader, Joe Sielski.

The film explores the importance of music and arts education for all students and is a touching testament to the value of teaching and promoting the arts. The love and respect that these musicians have for one another and their teachers is on full display, as well as their drive, discipline, humor and sheer talent.  Though their careers have taken them all around the world, performing in front of thousands, there is no greater joy than returning to the hometown stage that defined them.

Documentary, Music / Running Time: 77 Minutes / Not Rated

Featuring Lee Shapiro, Jimmy Vivino, John Feeney, Jerry Vivino, Frank Pagano, Uncle Floyd Vivino, Doug Romoff, Jeff Venho, Joe Sielski and Conan O’Brien. Directed by Barry Rubinow. Produced by Barry Rubinow and Doug Romoff. Editor Barry Rubinow. Director of Photography Patrick Cone. Production Designer Richard Gardner.

About the Musicians ...

JIMMY VIVINO is a guitarist, keyboard player, singer, producer and music director. He began playing in NYC clubs in the early 1980s and started producing and arranging music for such artists as Phoebe Snow, Laura Nyro, John Sebastian, and Donald Fagen. Blues legend Al Kooper considers Jimmy one of his “discoveries” and he worked as Kooper’s musical director for 15 years. Jimmy performed with the house bands for The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien as well as Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Jimmy led the house band for the late-night program Conan called Jimmy Vivino and the Basic Cable Band. Jimmy has recorded and played live with renowned musicians Johnnie Johnson, Hubert Sumlin and Levon Helm.

LEE SHAPIRO is a keyboardist, arranger and music director. He was studying at the Manhattan School of Music when he was discovered playing at a club in New Jersey by the manager of the band, Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons. Lee was age 19 at the time he was asked to join. He was the arranger on the hit songs, “Who Loves You” and “Oh What a Night.” Lee also worked with Barry Manilow on Copacabana, The Musical before starting Lee Shapiro Music, a company that created music for the media and advertising. He also created the “must have” toys of 2000, ‘Rock N Roll Elmo’ and ‘Rock N Roll Ernie’ for Fisher-Price. Lee formed the classic rock band The Hit Men with former Four Seasons bandmates Gerry Polci and Don Ciccone. The band has evolved over the past 12 years and is touring with band members who perform with the legends of classic rock.

JOHN FEENEY, principal double bass of the Orchestra of St. Luke’s, the American Classical Orchestra and Opera Lafayette, is a chamber musician and soloist of international renown. John has performed as a guest bassist with the Vienna Philharmonic. An avid Viennese violinist, in 2010 he co-founded The Serenade Orchestra and the Serenade Quartet, performing many dozens of concerts featuring the music of 18th and 19th century Vienna. John has recorded extensively for most major record labels and holds bachelor and master degrees from the Juilliard School where he was a scholarship student of David Walter. He began his bass studies with Linda McKnight.

UNCLE FLOYD VIVINO is a legendary comedian, musician and entertainer. He created and starred in The Uncle Floyd Show, a comedic variety show that can be equally read as a children’s program or a parody of a children’s program. The show aired for over two decades and featured character comedy, puppetry, audience participation, Floyd’s vaudevillian piano playing and a puppet sidekick named Oogie. The Uncle Floyd Show had musical guests including such renowned performers as The Ramones, Bon Jovi, Blue Öyster Cult, Joe Jackson and Cyndi Lauper. Uncle Floyd continues to perform his one-of-a-kind act around various northern New Jersey venues. Check out his radio show every Sunday at 9 a.m. EST on WFDU-FM 89.1 and WFDU-FM.

FRANK PAGANO is a drums and percussion musician and teacher. He graduated from the Manhattan School of Music to go on to work with Phoebe Snow and Concord Jazz recording artists Jackie and Roy. Frank has played music in Broadway shows since 1985. His performing and recording credits range from Smokey Joe’s Cafe and Escape to Margaritaville, to Darlene Love and Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. Frank is currently recording drums, percussion and vocals with prog-rock band Renaissance. He also performs with the Jon Herington Band and The Harmonious Five.

JERRY VIVINO is a multi-talented reed player who attributes his mastering of seven woodwinds to his high school band director Joe Sielski. After graduating in 1972 he attended Manhattan School of Music aspiring to become a full-time musician. For 25 years he was the featured saxophonist for Conan O’Brien on NBC’S  Late Night, The Tonight Show and the TBS cable TV show Conan. As a sideman, Jerry has shared the stage or recorded with the likes of Tony Bennett, Donald Fagen, Johnny Mathis, Darlene Love, Dion DiMucci, Stanley Clark, Franki Valli, Keely Smith, The Allman Brothers, Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen to name a few. Jerry also performs with his brother Floyd’s The Uncle Floyd Show, brother Jimmy’s Blues Revue and as a leader with his own jazz quartet.

DOUG ROMOFF is a professional bassist, entrepreneur and film producer. He performed music in many Broadway shows as well as movie scores and commercial jingles. Doug founded Harmony 534, a full-service music production and video editing facility with clients such as Sesame Street and Criterion Films. Doug also founded the Paradiso Group, an advertising agency that creates multi-media presentations, live television broadcasts and classic TV, radio and print advertising. Doug was the executive producer and creator of Beyond the Crush, a docu-series about wine owners in Napa Valley. He is the co-owner and creative director for Adrenaline Films, a creative services company with clients such as Universal Studios and Xfinity.

JEFF VENHO attended the Juilliard School as a scholarship trumpet performance major, graduating with a master’s degree. Jeff has performed with the NYC Opera, the American Symphony, the Paragon Ragtime Orchestra and numerous Broadway Shows. In addition to his freelance activities, Jeff is currently employed as Trumpet Professor at Hofstra University and is the Winds Department Chair at the Rudolf Steiner School in Manhattan.

About the Mentor ...

JOE SIELSKI was the music teacher and band leader at Glen Rock High School from 1963 to 2003. In 1968, he started the orchestra program at the school, and served on the Middle Atlantic States High School Evaluation Committee. In 1976, Joe got his M.A. degree in conducting from Columbia University TC. He also served as Glen Rock High School Fine Arts Department Chairperson. Joe has been married to his wife, Carolyn, for more than 50 years. They hosted the reunion of the Boys From Glen Rock High and Joe played/ conducted at the reunion concert at Glen Rock High School.

About the Filmmaker ...

BARRY RUBINOW grew up in Glen Rock, New Jersey, and made his first film in eighth grade at Glen Rock Junior/Senior High School. With early aspirations to be a filmmaker, he moved to Los Angeles and attended the University of Southern California’s acclaimed school of cinema. The first documentary he edited, Red Grooms: Sunflower in a Hothouse, was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Documentary Short Subject. His career as a producer, director, editor and indie filmmaker has included winning an Emmy Award for editing the CBS science show, Beakman’s World. He was also a founding member of the Documentary Channel, which was in 25 million homes on Dish Network and DirecTV, and ran all creative endeavors of the channel, overseeing the branding and on-air IDs and promos. He produced over 100 episodes of the channel’s flagship original show, DocTalk, interviewing acclaimed documentary filmmakers from Werner Herzog to Alex Gibney to Errol Morris. Rubinow brings his unique background and experience and love of his hometown, to this powerful project.

(www.bandedtogethermovie.com)

For tickets and information about the Montclair Film Festival, click here. 

BY LEE PFEIFFER

The first African-American to direct a major film for a majorHollywood studio was Gordon Parks, whose feature film debut "The Learning Tree" was released in 1969. Parks may have shattered the glass ceiling but there wasn't a tidal wave of opportunities that immediately opened for other minority filmmakers, in part because there were so few with any formal training in the art. One beneficiary of Parks' achievement was Ossie Davis, who was internationally respected as a well-rounded artist. He was a triple threat: actor, director and writer but his directing skills had been relegated to the stage. In 1970 Davis co-wrote the screenplay for and directed "Cotton Comes to Harlem", a major production for United Artists. The film was based on a novel by African-American writer Chester Himes and proved to be pivotal in ushering in what became known as the Blaxploitation genre. In reality, it's debatable whether "Cotton" really is a Blaxploitation film. While most of the major roles are played by black actors, the term "Blaxploitation" has largely come to symbolize the kinds of goofy, low-budget films that are fondly remembered as guilty pleasures. However, "Cotton"- like Gordon Parks's "Shaft" films that would follow-  boasts first class production values and top talent both in front of and behind the cameras. Regardless, the movie had sufficient impact at the boxoffice to inspire a seemingly endless barrage of Black-oriented American films that were all the rage from the early to mid-1970s. The Blaxploitation fever burned briefly but shone brightly and opened many doors for minority actors. 

The film was shot when New York City was in the midst of a precipitous decline in terms of quality of life. Crime was soaring, the infrastructure was aging and the city itself would be on the verge of bankruptcy a few years later. Harlem was among the hardest hit areas in terms of the economy. The once dazzling jewel of a neighborhood had boasted popular nightclubs, theaters and restaurants that attracted affluent white patrons. By the mid-to-late 1960s, however, that had changed radically. Street crimes, organized gangs and the drug culture spread rapidly, making Harlem a very dangerous place to be. It was foreboding enough if you were black but it was considered a "Forbidden Zone" for most white people, who spent their money elsewhere, thus exacerbating the decline of the neighborhoods. "Cotton Comes to Harlem" serves as an interesting time capsule of what life was like in the area, having been shot during this period of decline. Director Davis was considered royalty in Harlem. Despite his success in show business, he and his equally acclaimed wife, actress Ruby Dee, never "went Hollywood". They stayed in the community and worked hard to improve the environment. Thus, Davis was perfectly suited to capture the action on the streets in a manner that played authentically on screen. Similarly, he had a real feel for the local population. As with any major urban area, Harlem undoubtedly had its share of amusing eccentrics and Davis populates the movie with plenty of such characters. 

The film opens with a major rally held by Rev. Deke O'Malley (Calvin Lockhart), a local guy who made good and who is idolized by the population of Harlem. O'Malley is a smooth-talking, charismatic con man in the mode of the notorious Reverend Ike who uses religion as a facade to rip off gullible followers. This time, O'Malley has launched a "Back to Africa" campaign for which he is soliciting funds. It's based on the absurd premise that he will be able to finance disgruntled Harlem residents back to the land of their ancestry. The hard-working, semi-impoverished locals end up donating $87,000 in cash but the rally is interrupted by a daring daytime robbery. An armored car filled with masked men armed with heavy weaponry descend upon the goings-on, loot the cash box and take off. They are pursued by two street-wise local cops, "Grave Digger" Jones (Godfrey Cambridge)  and his partner "Coffin" Ed Johnson (Raymond St. Jacques). Davis provides an exciting and colorful car chase through the streets of Harlem, as the cops fail to snag the robbers. They also discover that O'Malley has gone missing, leading them to believe that he orchestrated the heist himself so he could keep the proceeds raised at the rally. The plot becomes rather convoluted, as Jones and Johnson learn that a bale of cotton has arrived in Harlem and its somehow connected to the crime. They assume that the stolen money has been stashed in said cotton bale, which quickly changes hands among the most unsavory characters in the community. Getting in on the action is a white mob boss and his goons who are also trying to recover the cotton bale. The cotton itself is resented in Harlem because of its historical links to slavery and by the end of the film, the bale ends up in a stage show at the famed Apollo Theater where it is used as a prop in a bizarre production that involves historical observations about the black experience intermingled with a striptease act! Through it all, Jones and Johnson doggedly chase any number of people through the streets, engage in shoot-outs and car chases and come in and out of contact with Rev. O'Malley, who professes his innocence about being involved in the robbery. The Rev isn't so innocent when it comes to other unscrupulous activities such as chronically cheating on his long-suffering girlfriend Iris (Judy Pace) and manipulating other women in a variety of ways. 

The most delightful aspect of the film is the showcasing of some very diverse talents of the era. Godfrey Cambridge (who made it big as a stand-up comic) and Raymond St. Jacques enjoy considerable on-screen chemistry even if the script deprives them of the kind of witty dialogue that would have enhanced their scenes together. They make wisecracks all the time and harass some less-than-savory characters but the screenplay never truly capitalizes on Cambridge's comedic potential. The film's most impressive performance comes from Calvin Lockhart, who perfectly captures the traits of phony, larger-than-life "preachers". He's all flashy good looks, gaudy outfits and narcissistic behavior. Lockhart seems to be having a ball playing this character and the screen ignites every time he appears. There are some nice turns by other good character actors including pre-"Sanford and Son" Redd Foxx, who figures in the film's amusing "sting-in-the-tail" ending, John Anderson as the exasperated white captain of a Harlem police station that is constantly on the verge of being besieged by local activists, Lou Jacobi as a junk dealer, Cleavon Little as a local eccentric, J.D. Canon as a mob hit man and Dick Sabol as a goofy white cop who suffers humiliation from virtually everyone (which is sort of a payback for the decades in which black characters were routinely used as comic foils).  The film has a surprisingly contemporary feel about it, save for a few garish fashions from the 1970s. It's also rather nostalgic to hear genuine soul music peppered through the soundtrack in this pre-rap era. Happily, life has not imitated art in the years since the film was released. Harlem has been undergoing the kind of Renaissance that would have seemed unimaginable in 1970. The old glory has come back strong and the center of the neighorhood, 125th Street, is vibrant and thriving once again. These societal perspectives make watching "Cotton Comes to Harlem" enjoyable on an entirely different level than simply an amusing crime comedy.

(The film is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Cinema of the 1970s is primarily remembered for being a bold era in which groundbreaking films were released and the emergence of titanic new talents both on screen and behind the camera. It was an era in which sex, crime and violence were often exploited to take advantage of the new freedoms in the industry. Yet, there still remained a market for family comedies. While Disney and other major studio family fare could still prove to be profitable, there was also a subculture of low-budget films of this genre that were made by independent production companies. Some of these films were never even released in big cities but they proved popular with rural audiences, thus there were an abundance of rural themes in many of them. A good example of this is the 1978 comedy "They Went That-A-Way & That-A-Way" starring Tim Conway and Chuck McCann, working from a screenplay by Conway. I've always had sentiment towards both of these comedy stars, having grown up in the 1960s watching Conway on "McHale's Navy" and McCann hosting a kid's show. Conway was a major factor in driving the success of "McHale's Navy" and in the 1970s he would be an integral part of "The Carol Burnett Show"'s popularity. His skits with straight man Harvey Korman were often hilarious as Korman would gamely try (unsuccessfully) to prevent himself from cracking up at Conway's often improvised antics. In the 1970s, Conway also found success in Disney feature films, sometimes co-starring with another TV icon, Don Knotts.

In "That-A-Way", Conway and co-directors Stuart E. McGowan and Edward J. Montagne provide a prison comedy that introduces us to small town deputies Dewey (Conway) and Wallace (McCann). Do we have to inform you that they are totally inept? Every decision they make turns into a disaster, yet they are secretly appointed by the governor to pose as inmates at a prison camp in order to find out what happened to some stolen loot that one of the prisoners has stashed away. Their mission is to win his confidence and use the information to recover the money. The scenario is ripe for big laughs, but Conway and McCann so blatantly attempt to emulate their idols, Laurel and  Hardy, that it only serves to remind us that they were inimitable in their comedic brilliance. At one point, Conway resorts to dusting off his classic sketch as an inept dentist that ran on "The Carol Burnett Show". However, without a live audience and Harvey Korman as his hapless foil who can't stop laughing, the skit falls flat as a pancake. There are a few chuckles in the scenarios of the inept duo trying to cope with living among hardened criminals, among them Lenny Montana and Richard Kiel. In fact, it's quite funny to see Montana, who played the much-feared Luca Brasi in "The Godfather" as Kiel's intimidated "yes man". There are numerous other supporting players who are fun to watch: the always-marvelous Dub Taylor as the prison warden (named Warden Warden), Reni Santoni as the inept deputy who is carrying on with his sexpot wife and the ageless Hank Worden as the con with the stash of cash. Our inept heroes stumble upon the hidden loot but they soon learn that the governor has died without informing anyone he has assigned two lawmen to pose as inmates. Thus, they are facing years in prison. They decide to break out and head to the new governor's residence where he is hosting a swanky luncheon for the Japanese ambassador (!). This gives Conway the opportunity to pose as a  fellow Japanese  and McCann as a geisha in one of those painful comedy bits that is cringe-inducing by today's sensibilities. The film races to a finale that manages to be chaotic without being even slightly funny.

The fact that the film was credited to two directors indicates some kind of problem or tension on the set. My guess is that Edward Montagne's contributions were minimal and I put forward as evidence that he brought several Don Knotts feature films to the screen as producer and sometimes writer and director. They have all stood the test of time and remain very funny. In any event, Montagne would not direct another feature film and he passed away in 2003. I admire Tim Conway but I've found that his comedic persona has not always aged well. As a kid, I thought his bumbling Ensign Parker on "McHale's Navy" was hilarious. I still find the show amusing but it's now in spite of Conway, not because of him. Conway's character, much like the one he plays in "That-A-Way", is not just comically inept. Rather, he seems like a man-child, someone who suffers from a mental deficiency- a four year-old boy trapped in a man's body. I have the same opinion when I watch the characters played by Jerry Lewis in his early films with Dean Martin. There is nothing remotely believable about them and they seem more pathetic than funny.

It gives me no pleasure to knock an attempt to provide wholesome family entertainment such as this. Still, a comedy isn't worth much if it isn't funny, and "That-A-Way"'s few modest pleasures don't merit a recommendation. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray looks good and provides only some TV spots and a trailer as extras.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kino Lorber has releaseda Blu-ray edition of  "The Secret War of Harry Frigg", a long overlooked and largely forgotten 1968 WWII comedy starring Paul Newman. The film''s release was sandwiched in Newman's career during a particularly productive time following the releases of "Cool Hand Luke" (which gained him an Oscar nomination), the critically acclaimed western "Hombre", his directorial debut with "Rachel, Rachel" (4 Oscar nominations) and his mega-hit "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid". "Frigg" is a completely lightweight affair done on the cheap with California locations substituting for Italy. The film casts Newman in his trademark role as an anti-Establishment wiseguy. When we first see him, he's a lowly private serving in Italy at the height of the Allied invasion. Frigg is a malcontent whose rebellious nature results in him spending most of his time in the brig. He's gained a reputation as an escape artist but never succeeds in staying free for very long. Frigg is summoned to meet General Homer Prentiss (James Gregory), who offers him an audacious deal. Seems that five Allied generals were captured by Italian troops in a Turkish bath. The Allies can't afford them to be interrogated for long and Prentiss wants Frigg to parachute behind enemy lines posing as a general in the hopes that he, too, will be captured. The scheme is to have Frigg imprisoned with the other generals and then develop an escape plan for all of them. Frigg agrees after working out some perks he will get from carrying out the high-risk plot. Upon landing in Italy, he is summarily captured as planned. He is taken to a lavish country villa where the other generals are being held. Frigg is pleasantly surprised to find that the Italian officer who serves as a warden, Col. Ferrucci (Vito Scotti), is a likeable, charming man who treats his prisoners as honored guests and lavishes them with amenities. Still, the real generals impose upon Frigg, who they think is their superior officer, to orchestrate an escape plan. However, Frigg becomes accustomed to Ferrucci's constant supply of gourmet food, fine wine and expensive cigars. He is even more enamored when he meets the owner of the villa, a beautiful countess named Francesca (Sylva Koscina). Frigg discovers a secret passageway that leads outside the compound but which also conveniently goes into Francesca's bedroom. Before long, he's also enjoying plenty of sexual perks. By the time Frigg is motivated to actually plan an escape, it's too late. A German officer (Werner Peters) arrives at the villa to announce that Italy has just surrendered and that German troops will now occupy positions formally held by Italian troops. He summarily takes charge of the prisoners and also arrests the hapless Ferrucci, who ironically had just been promoted to the rank of general. The group is taken from luxurious surroundings to a harsh prison camp where they are monitored constantly and deterred from escape by an electrified fence and a mine field. Nevertheless, Frigg is unfazed and sets about planning his most ambitious escape. 

"The Secret War of Harry Frigg" was directed by Jack Smight, a competent if workman-like director whose best film was the 1966 crime flick "Harper" which starred Paul Newman in one of his signature roles. Alas, their reunion doesn't present the same kind of payoff the first movie did. Aside from a weak screenplay, much of the blame for the film's failure to work lies with Newman himself. Instead of playing Frigg as a sophisticated con man, Newman portrays him as a blue collar simpleton from New Jersey whose only talents are conning the military brass and seducing women. The role of a virtual idiot does not suit Newman well. He was able to play a rough-around-the-edges  protagonist as boxer Rocky Graziano in the 1956 film "Somebody Up There Likes Me" because the character wasn't cartoonish. By 1968, however, Newman was an iconic screen presence and it was simply impossible to accept him as a lovable moron. The first half of the movie is pretty tepid but the second chapter improves significantly when Frigg and his companions are imprisoned by the Germans. With Newman giving a rare dud performance, the supporting cast carries the show and fortunately it includes some first rate second bananas: Charles Gray, John Williams, Tom Bosley and Andrew Duggan among them. The scene stealers are Vito Scotti and Werner Peters, both of whom deliver deft comedic performances. Sylva Koscina, one of the most charming Italian imports to Hollywood during this period, is largely used as window dressing and her character's reunion with Frigg at the film's finale seems as forced as it is absurd. "Frigg" is not without its modest pleasures but it never reaches the genuine laughter level found in the average episode of the similarly-themed "Hogan's Heroes". 

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray is a vast improvement over Universal's previous bare bones DVD release. It includes a fun commentary track by film historians by Nat Segaloff and Daniel Kremer as well as the original trailer.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

By 1966, playwright Neil Simon was already the toast of Broadway and had several hit shows running simultaneously. Simon was eager to expand his talents into screenwriting and had envisioned creating a spoof of some of the more pretentious European art house movies. Before long, a diverse number of impressive talents were involved with the project, now titled "After the Fox". It would be an Italian crime caper and would star Peter Sellers. As Sellers had the most clout, he reached out to esteemed Italian director Vittorio De Sica and convinced him to direct. De Sica, however, insisted that in order to capture the true feel of Italy, an Italian screenwriter- Cesare Zavattini- needed to collaborate on the screenplay with Simon. That was the first obstacle, as neither man could speak the other's language and they had to rely on translators to communicate. This was a true challenge when writing a comedy because jokes and gags that worked in English didn't play out in Italian and vice-versa. Then Sellers insisted that his wife, Britt Ekland, should play the pivotal role of his character's younger sister. By all accounts, the blonde-haired Nordic Ekland was hardly suited for the role, especially since there were so many Italian actresses with name recognition who would have been more appropriate. Things deteriorated once filming began. De Sica and Sellers didn't get along and Sellers wanted the famed director fired.  Sellers was producing the film with his partner John Bryan, who insisted that you don't fire a director of De Sica's stature. Thus, the shared dream of Sellers and Bryan producing future movies never happened, a result of the hard feelings on the set. As if these didn't represent enough challenges, Sellers's well-documented psychological problems, phobias and mood swings often resulted in major domestic rows between him and his future ex-wife Ekland.

The film opens in the desert outside of Cairo, where a shipment of gold bars is hijacked as part of a plan devised by criminal mastermind Okra (Akim Tamiroff). The caper succeeds but he now has to find a way to smuggle the imposing number of bars safely into Europe. For this, he approaches the esteemed Italian thief and con man, Aldo Vanucci (Peter Sellers), who is currently imprisoned. It becomes clear, however, that Vanucci can make good on his promise to leave the prison any time he wants to, as he's treated as a celebrity and enjoys most of the perks of the outside world. True to his word, Vanucci escapes with the help of his two klutzy henchmen and sets about plotting an audacious plan to smuggle the gold into Italy- right under the noses of the police detectives who are searching for him. He adopts the guise of a fictitious Italian director, who he convinces the locals is the nation's most esteemed filmmaker, and sets up a faux movie production titled "The Gold of Cairo", ostensibly a film that will exploit the recent high profile theft. In reality, the phony film production will allow Vanucci and his team to openly smuggle the real gold into Italy because everyone assumes the gold bars are simply props. Vanucci must also contend with looking out for his 16 year-old sister, Gina (Britt Ekland), who is obsessed with movies and film stars to the extent that she adorns her bedroom walls with posters of Marlon Brando, William Holden, Sean Connery and even a "Pink Panther" poster that mentions star Peter Sellers. Vanucci is obsessed with ensuring Gina maintains her virginity and to keep her safe from an endless stream of gigolos. To keep her nearby, he casts her as the female lead in the movie. To give his scheme more credibility, he also convinces aging American heartthrob Tony Powell (Victor Mature) to play the male lead, thus causing a media sensation. He appeals to the local's weakness for celebrity culture by fawning over them and casting the local police chief in the film. When production gets under way, neither Vanucci or his henchmen even know how to handle the cameras.

 "After the Fox" was a critical and commercial disappointment when first released but like so many other cinematic failures, it has built an appreciative following over the decades. It's a film that eluded me all those years until I recently discovered it is streaming on Amazon Prime. Although the madcap pace of the movie gets a bit out of hand during the finale, I found it to be inspired lunacy. Peter Sellers may have been  a nightmare to work with (he would soon be fired from "Casino Royale" in mid-production), but at his best he is a comic genius- and here he is at his best. The script is far better than the language logistics might have indicated and it provides a deft satire of the film industry, as well as a social commentary on celebrity worship and the desire for fame. Even De Sica is in on the joke, appearing as himself directing a ludicrous biblical spectacle with pyramids existing in the shadows of some apartment complexes. There are some marvelous supporting turns by everyone involved and the dubbing of the Italian cast into English is expertly done. Victor Mature, never known for his comedic abilities, was lured out of retirement for this film and he's sensational. Playing a hunky, idiotic screen idol, he manages to even upstage Sellers in the laughs department. Martin Balsam is also very amusing as his exasperated manager. Even the opening credits (remember what opening credits are?) turn about to be amusing with a Pink Panther-like theme designed by the great Maurice Binder, accompanied by the Hollies and Peter Sellers providing the infectious title song created by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. The talent even extended to the film poster design by the legendary Frank Frazetta.

"After the Fox" isn't a comic masterpiece but it is genuinely funny and deserved a far better fate back in 1966. Still, it's never too late to gain appreciation for an underrated gem.

BY ERNIE MAGNOTTA

I’ve always been a fan of the heist/caper film; a genre which details the planning, execution and aftermath of a huge robbery. It’s an extremely fun and involving formula in which we oftentimes sympathize with the thieves and want them to reach their goal. Some notable heist/caper films are The Asphalt Jungle, The Killing, Ocean’s 11, Bonnie and Clyde, The Thomas Crown Affair, The Italian Job, The Getaway, The Sting, Dog Day Afternoon, Thief, A Fish Called Wanda, Reservoir Dogs, Heat and The Usual Suspects. Just to name a few. Add to the list the comedy caper film A Man, a Woman, and a Bank available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber.

Solidly directed by Noel Black from a humorous screenplay by Raynold Gideon, Bruce A. Evans and actor Stuart Margolin, A Man, a Woman, and a Bank tells the tale of friends Reese (Donald Sutherland) and Norman (Paul Mazursky), who devise an elaborate plan to rob a bank in Vancouver. Things get a bit complicated, however, when Reese falls in love with a pretty photographer (Brooke Adams).

Released by Avco Embassy Pictures in September of 1979, A Man, a Woman, and a Bank is listed as the first and only film to be made by McNichol, a production company said to have been created by actress Kristy McNichol and her mother Carollyne. However, some believe this to be false and state that McNichol is actually Donald Sutherland’s company. Whatever the case may be, A Man, a Woman, and a Bank is an extremely enjoyable, well-directed, written and acted feature that definitely deserves to be seen. The engaging story contains very interesting and likeable three-dimensional characters. Reese is intelligent, confident, romantic and also a good friend. The great Donald Sutherland effortlessly gets all this across and makes his character totally believable. Five-time Academy Award nominee Paul Mazursky is hilarious and extremely convincing as henpecked hypochondriac Norman, and the lovely, talented and always welcome Brooke Adams (reuniting here with her Invasion of the Body Snatchers co-star, Sutherland) shines as adorable photographer Stacey.

The fun feature also benefits from some wonderful cinematography by the legendary Jack Cardiff and a terrific musical score by Academy Award winning composer Bill Conti. All in all, it’s an extremely solid and fun comedic crime film that audiences are sure to enjoy.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray presents the movie in its original 1.78:1 aspect ratio. The transfer looks beautiful and the disc also contains quite a few worthy special features. There’s the original theatrical trailer as well as two very interesting and informative audio commentaries; one by director Noel Black and producer Peter Samuelson from 2002, and another by film historians Dean Brandum and Andrew Nette. The Blu-ray also has trailers for four other films featuring Donald Sutherland: The Great Train Robbery, Ordeal by Innocence, The Rosary Murders and The Puppet Masters.

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By Ernie Magnotta

“Way down in the jungle deep, the lion stepped on the signifyin’ monkey’s feet.” Anyone who is familiar with that poem’s first line, most likely heard it from comedian/actor/singer, the late, great Rudy Ray Moore. Influenced by legendary comedians Red Foxx and Richard Pryor, Moore, who worked nightclubs throughout the 1960s, became popular through a series of hilarious and racy party albums he released in the early 70s, some of which featured Rudy Ray as a character named Dolemite; a sharply-dressed, supercool, humorous and loquacious, rhyming pimp-poet whose incredible strength and expert martial arts ability are equaled only by his sexual prowess. The albums and his live stand-up routine were so popular that, in 1975, the charismatic Moore took all of his earnings and decided to turn this larger-than-life urban hero into a kick-ass, comedic movie.

Bad-ass pimp Dolemite (Rudy Ray Moore, Petey Wheatstraw, The Devil's Son-In-Law), who was framed, incarcerated and had his club, The Total Experience, stolen from him by his evil rival Willie Green (D’Urville Martin, Black Caesar), is released from prison and, with help from the FBI, the loyal Queen Bee (Lady Reed, Disco Godfather) and Dolemite’s all-girl army of Kung Fu killers, sets out to bring Willie Green to justice and retake his rightful place as king of the streets.

Co-written (with actor Jerry Jones who appears in the film as an FBI agent) and produced by Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite was directed by D’Urville Martin for the paltry sum of $100,000, but went on to gross $12 million. Rudy Ray not only capitalized on the popularity of his own adult party albums and the Dolemite character, but he smartly cashed in on the now legendary “Blaxploitation” craze started by wonderful films such as Shaft (1971), Super Fly (1972) and Three the Hard Way (1974) as well as the Kung Fu phenomenon that was sweeping the country, mostly due to the immortal Bruce Lee and his iconic 1973 film Enter the Dragon in particular.

The entertaining Dolemite not only features plenty of comedy and very quotable dialogue, but also, Kung Fu, adult language and liberal doses of sex and violence; not to mention a great musical score by Arthur Wright (The Human Tornado, The Crying Game) and the Filmore Street Soul Rebellion as well as a fun and memorable title song composed and sung by Ben Taylor. It also contains loads of unintended laughs which, along with Rudy Ray’s enjoyable ghetto poems, give the extremely low-budget film much of its charm. Some wonderful examples of Dolemite’s unintentional hilarity are visible boom mics, character’s talking over one another (“Flo!”), wooden line deliveries (“Another frame-up, hmm?”), a cop who attacks Dolemite and falls on his ass (no second takes), a lip-synching nightclub singer who is way out of synch, Rudy Ray almost falling asleep during a scene and D’Urville Martin saying to him, “Don’t get excited!”, and a character named Creeper who is also known as the Hamburger Pimp and is played by a real-life junkie (Vainus Rackstraw). Naturally, the film is also a fantastic early 70s time capsule featuring funky fashions (the ginormous, furry hats are my favorite) as well as wonderfully gaudy décor. For those who may turn their noses up at the film, Dolemite and the work of Rudy Ray Moore (who has rightly been dubbed “The Godfather of Rap”) has gone on to influence many; most notably a plethora of Rap artists including Snoop Dogg and the 2009 comedy classic Black Dynamite.

Dolemite has been released on Blu-ray/DVD by Vinegar Syndrome. The extremely fun film, which has been restored in 2k from its 35mm negative, is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio and is extremely sharp and beautiful looking. We are also treated to a lovingly included full frame version (the VHS version everyone’s used to) which not only shows the boom mic in frame even more than the 1.85 version, but sometimes the sound guy too. Special features include a very informative making-of documentary by Elijah Drenner (That Guy Dick Miller) which contains remembrances from many of Dolemite’s cast and crew including Rudy Ray Moore, Jerry Jones and Ben Taylor; an entertaining interview with Lady Reed; a “Locations: Then & Now” featurette and a very thorough audio commentary by Rudy Ray’s biographer, Mark Jason Murray. Amongst many other interesting things, he talks about Rudy’s early days in show business, how the character of Dolemite came to be, the trials and tribulations that came with making the film and Rudy Ray’s life after his amazing 1970s reign (interspersed between Murray’s commentary are a few audio interviews with Rudy Ray, Jerry Jones and martial arts champion Howard Jackson (who appears in the film). Although cool and informative, some of these interviews are a bit muffled and somewhat hard to fully hear). There are also trailers for Dolemite and its hilarious sequel The Human Tornado (also released on Blu-ray by Vinegar Syndrome) as well as a reversible sleeve with the fun, eye-catching, original poster art. There’s also some cool new artwork, too. Both images are also featured on the discs themselves. If you’re a fan of Dolemite, Rudy Ray Moore or the 1970s “Blaxploitation” genre in general, this Blu-ray is a must have. Can you dig it?

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By Darren Allison

Having starred in the popular sitcom series The Munsters from 1964 -1966, Herman (Fred Gwynne), Lily (Yvonne De Carlo), Grandpa (Al Lewis), Eddie (Butch Patrick) and Marilyn (Debbie Watson) hit the big screen in Munster, Go Home (1966).

Produced and co-written by series creators Joe Connelly and Bob Mosher (Leave It to Beaver), this satire of American suburban life features British comedians Terry-Thomas and Hermione Gingold, legendary horror star John Carradine and future Family Feud host Richard Dawson, who was then appearing on Hogan’s Heroes.

The Munsters achieved higher Nielsen ratings than the similarly macabre family of the time The Addams Family. In 1965 it was nominated for the Golden Globe Award for Best Television Series but lost to The Rogues starring David Niven which was cancelled after one season.

After 70 episodes, The Munsters was also cancelled after ratings dropped due to competition from the Batman TV Series. The film was produced immediately after the television series completed filming. It starred the original cast (Fred Gwynne, Yvonne De Carlo, Al Lewis, Butch Patrick) apart from Marilyn, who was played by Debbie Watson, replacing Pat Priest from the series.

The movie was released in Technicolor, whereas the TV series was telecast in black & white. The hope was that the film would introduce the series to the world in advance of negotiating future syndication rights. The film was released in the United Kingdom at the end of December 1966 as support for the Norman Wisdom movie Press for Time (1966). The instrumental theme song, titled The Munsters' Theme, was composed by composer/arranger Jack Marshall and was nominated for a Grammy Award in 1965.

The story sees Herman becoming Lord Munster after he inherits an estate from an English uncle. With Spot guarding 1313 Mockingbird Lane, Herman leaves his job at Gateman, Goodbury & Graves Morticians for Munster Hall in England. Whilst there, he uncovers a counterfeiting ring and upholds the family honour by driving his Drag-u-la special in the annual road race.

The move from the TV screen to the cinema screen is often a gamble. The transition is tricky, with the chief obstacle finding a story interesting enough to fill a 90-minute slot while at the same time sustaining the audience’s attention can be tough. However, the central problem with Munster, Go Home! is that it just really isn’t that funny. The shifting dimensions between TV and cinema so often adjust the overall dynamics. The absence and familiarity of a laughter track almost leaves a cold, empty feel to the movie. Whilst The Munsters (shot at Universal City) was never filmed in front of a live studio audience, it was overdubbed with ‘canned laughter’ or a laughter track, an element that at least helped cue up or support a punchline or a comedic line of dialogue. As a result, something just seems to be lost in the movie version. Even the support from Terry-Thomas as English ancestor Freddie Munster is really over-the-top and at times borders on embarrassing. At just 96- minutes, it’s all really hard work.

Nevertheless, it’s not all bad. On the technical side, the production values work very well. Creepy dungeons, gothic mansions et al – create the perfect setting and atmosphere to satisfy every horror kid’s dream. The film is also presented in its original theatrical 1.85:1 ratio. But the real winner here is the Technicolor photography; the process simply elevates everything on display. It’s a distinctly ‘groovy’ 60’s colour pallet with all of its vibrant lime greens, luminous pinks and rich reds’ really igniting the screen and it comes through as the film’s overall saving grace.

Considering the film (and the series it was based upon) was so culturally significant, the Blu-ray’s extras are decidedly thin, consisting of just a lone theatrical trailer. It’s a real pity that some film or horror historian couldn’t be found to sit in and provide some sort of commentary – especially as the whole franchise had loose connections and is distantly related to the whole Universal Horror cycle…

Munster, Go Home! is released on July 25th 2022 as a Region 2 Blu-ray and is available from www.fabulousfilms.com

(Darren Allison is the Soundtracks Editor for Cinema Retro)

By Lee Pfeiffer

Actor James Caan has passed away at age 82. No cause of death has been announced as of this writing. Caan's long career began on in stage productions and he eventually moved into making guest star appearances in prominent television programs in the 1960s before graduating into feature films. The Bronx native specialized in playing street-wise tough guys. In the 1964 thriller "Lady in Cage", he led a group of housebreaking young punks in terrorizing Olivia De Havilland as a woman who was trapped inside an elevator. Caan sometimes landed a leading role in films such as Robert Altman's "Countdown" and in Francis Ford Coppola's "The Rain People", both of which co-starred Robert Duvall. He scored good notices in director Howard Hawks' "El Dorado" playing a gunslinger with bad aim to comedic effect opposite John Wayne and Robert Mitchum. He earned an Emmy nomination for his leading role in the highly rated TV movie "Brian's Song" and his career moved into high gear when Coppola was casting "The Godfather" in 1971. Originally, Caan was slated to play the role of Michael Corleone and fellow up-and-comer Al Pacino was auditioned to play the hot-headed Sonny Corleone, but wiser heads prevailed and the roles were reversed. Both actors received Oscar nominations and major stardom would follow. Caan's character was killed in the first "Godfather" film but he made a pivotal cameo in the final scene of "The Godfather Part II" in a flashback sequence. During the 1970s, Caan was a bankable leading man, appearing in major diverse films such as "Cinderella Liberty", "The Gambler", "Freebie and the Bean", "Rollerball", "Funny Lady", "A Bridge Too Far" and "Chapter Two". 

In the 1980s, the good roles and his boxoffice appeal diminished somewhat, despite a high profile leading role in director Michael Mann's "Thief". He starred in and directed "Hide in Plain Sight", a domestic drama that won good notices but did not score at the boxoffice. He also had a hit in the 1990 screen adaptation of Stephen King's thriller "Misery" but many of his roles were relegated to lower-budget productions and supporting roles and cameos. His talents were introduced to a new generation with his role as Will Ferrell's father in the 2003 comedy "Elf", which is now considered to be a Christmas classic. He returned to TV to star in the series "Vegas" and it was a success, running four seasons. Caan was back in the news quite a bit earlier this year to celebrate the 50th anniversary of "The Godfather". He is the father of actor Scott Caan and once made a guest appearance on his son's hit series "Hawaii Five-0". Caan occasionally expressed frustration that the good roles were often being denied him in his later years, but in fact, his legacy is intact as a highly respected actor who could excel at playing diverse characters in equally diverse films. 

For more, click here.

You can see this gem of a film from 1969, courtesy of Universal, complete and without ads. The film is a sweet-natured comedy based on William Faulkner's novel and features a fine comedic performance by Steve McQueen and an Oscar-nominated turn by Rupert Crosse, with a score by John Williams.

(If you want to view the film in a larger screen format, click here).

BY LEE PFEIFFER

At one point in the 1983 zany comedy "The Survivors", Robin Williams says to co-star Walter Matthau: "I was overreacting." It would have been more accurate if he had said "I was overacting" because Williams, who was certainly a comedic genius, also had the ability to go over-the-top in his quest to get a laugh or, conversely, to ring sentiment from playing dramatic scenes in a mawkish manner. To paraphrase Longfellow's famous poem, "When he was good, he was very, very good, but when he was bad, he was horrid." In "The Survivors", Williams doesn't quite reach the level of being horrid and there's plenty of blame to go around for this misfire, but he certainly contributes to its quick demise thanks to his failure to get a definable grip on his character. The premise of the film must have seemed promising when it was first developed as a vehicle to reunite Peter Falk and Alan Arkin, who had found great success co-starring in "The In-Laws". For whatever reason, the reunion never materialized and Joseph Bologna was signed to co-star with Williams under the direction of Michael Ritchie. Ritchie had an interesting background, having directed an eclectic assortment of films. They ranged from his acclaimed drama "Downhill Racer", the sports comedies "Semi-Tough" and "The Bad News Bears", the political satire "The Candidate", the social satire "Smile" and the bizarre but hypnotic crime thriller "Prime Cut"- all good movies, indeed. But shortly after production started, Bologna walked off the film, citing the oft-used excuse of "creative differences", presumably with Ritchie. Walter Matthau was called in to replace him, having worked successfully with Ritchie on "The Bad News Bears". The script was by Michael Leeson, who had written most of the scripts for the landmark sitcom "The Cosby Show". So far, so good. 

"The Survivors" opens in New York City during the grungy period of the early 1980s. Robin Williams plays Donald Quinelle, an affable but bumbling executive who thinks his career is set, only to report to work and experience being fired by his boss's talking parrot. He is put through the grueling process of applying for unemployment insurance, which is made to look like a old breadline from the Soviet era. Meanwhile, we're introduced to Walter Matthau as Sonny Paluso, a long-time franchisee of a gas station. He is equally unceremoniously dismissed when the oil company decides to revoke his franchise, leaving him high and dry and without unemployment insurance, due to a legal technicality. Prior to this, we had seen the wholesale destruction of his gas station when Donald,who was fueling up in a careless manner, accidentally ignites the place with a tossed cigarette. The two men later find themselves coincidentally dining at the same restaurant when it is held up by a masked man who demands that the captive patrons disrobe and hand over their money. Donald resists and bumbles his way into subduing the bandit, getting wounded in the process and becoming a fleeting hero in the media. The bandit is Jack Locke (Jerry Reed), a cool-as-a-cucumber one-time hit man who has been affected by the economic downturn, thus he's been reduced to being a small-time robber. He manages to get out of police custody and he has both men in his sites as revenge for turning him in. He breaks into Sonny's house, where the divorced dad lives with his precocious, porn-loving 16 year-old daughter Candice (Kristen Vigard) and prepares to kill Sonny. An unexpected drop-by visit by Donald results in a series of bizarre comedic set pieces. Cutting to the chase (literally), Donald inexplicably becomes an expert in self-defense and amasses an arsenal of assault weapons. He has fallen under the spell of a far right cult leader, Wes Huntley (James Wainwright), who runs a paramilitary camp in rural Vermont. Donald leaves his fiancee and heads for the hills to join the cult. Sonny learns that Jack Locke knows his whereabouts and he and Candice race to the camp to warn Donald.  The whole mad, mad, mad, mad fiasco disintegrates further when Reed shows up and attempts to murder Donald and Sonny, but ends up allying himself with them when they are marked for death by Wes. If you think all of this is convoluted to read, wait until you see it unwind on screen.

A major problem with the production is that Matthau is playing in a semi-realistic comedy whereas director Ritchie allows Williams to dabble in theatre of the absurd. One minute, he's in Robin Williams lovable loser mode, the next minute he's like a raving psychopath. Rarely have I seen him so consistently unfunny. Matthau steals the film by simply playing a typical Walter Matthau character: grumpy with his trademark hangdog facial expressions. Jerry Reed tries his best to invigorate the hit man character, but it's wildly inconsistent and unbelievable. Once the action shifts to Vermont, the pace is deadly and the jokes become weaker and more repetitive. It's as though Ritchie was just trying to run out the clock in order to meet the minimal running time. The film also suffers from some very sloppy aspects that are inexcusable. In the beginning of the film, a preoccupied Donald stops at Sonny's station to gas up- but he fails to insert the hose into the gas tank, thus allowing fuel to flow everywhere and later ignite when he tosses a cigarette nearby.  The scene is absurd, but for all the wrong reasons. Even if Donald doesn't see the ocean of fuel gathering on the ground around him, why would he not smell the pungent odor? Later, when Donald becomes suddenly obsessed with owning weapons, he drops by a local gun fair where enthusiasts are passing around military-grade hardware that is being sold openly and seemingly with no questions asked. However, at the time, New York City had (and continues to have) some of the strongest gun control laws in the United States. I have never heard of such events taking place there, though they are common in other parts of the country. It rings hollow and makes it seem like screenwriter Michael Leeson had never been in Gotham in his life. Additionally, when Donald decides to move to Vermont, he gets there via a taxi cab. The scenario calls out for a joke, but, alas, none comes. Let's set the record straight: in an unemployed person decided to travel to Vermont via a local taxi in 1983, they would still be paying off the fare today.

When "The Survivors" opened, it met with deadly reviews and was considered a boxoffice failure. New York Times critic Vincent Canby bemoaned the film thusly, "Most astonishing is that a director of Mr. Ritchie's taste and talent could have allowed a project of such utter foolishness to get to the point that it was actually filmed."  Indeed.

("The Survivors" is currently streaming on Amazon Prime. Click here to order the DVD from Amazon)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

The Warner Archive offers the 1961 low-budget Allied Artists production of Operation Eichmann on DVD. The film was clearly rushed into production in order to capitalize on the recent capture of the infamous Nazi war criminal who enthusiastically took up the assignment of how to orchestra the logistics of carrying out the Holocaust as part of Hitler's evil scheme to rid occupied Europe of Jews and others deemed undesirable by the Third Reich. The film opens with a chilling (but fictitious) statement by Eichmann, who threatens to oversee a revival of world Naziism. The movie's cheap production design undermines the emotional impact of the story. (The scenes in Auschwitz are no more expansive than those seen in contemporary TV dramas at the time.) The B&W cinematography, however, is suitably stark and provides an appropriate downbeat atmosphere. The film strays so far from the facts regarding Eichmann's life on the run that you wonder how producers felt it could be sold to contemporary audiences who were mesmerized by Eichmann's capture by the Israeli Mossad in Argentina. The movie skips over such controversies as Eichmann having been placed in custody of American forces in the aftermath of the war, only to be released due to a blunder about his identity. There is no mention of the cover-ups American intelligence engaged in so that Eichmann would never be found or arrested. (The fear was that Eichmann's arrest might reveal the fact that the American government had willingly hired prominent Nazis for intelligence purposes during the Cold War era.) Nor is there a nod to the fact that Eichmann successfully lived undisturbed in Argentina thanks to an assist from a Catholic bishop who sympathized with the plight of Nazis on the run. Although Eichmann lived in Argentina with his wife and children, the movie presents him as a bachelor who is accompanied by a ditzy and greedy girlfriend, a fictional character named Anna (Ruta Lee). The cinematic Eichmann has a tempestuous relationship with his paramour, but can't seem to leave her. He routinely offers her bribes to stay with him during his life on the run. Finally, the film embellishes Eichmann's daring capture on an Argentinian street by adding a sub-plot about other ex-Nazis who are planning to kill him for making his plans to revive the Third Reich too blatant.

Where the film, directed by R. G. Springsteen, deserves some admiration is in its determination not to sugar coat the atrocities that Eichmann and his cohorts engaged in. Nazis were not the wild-eyed monsters often depicted in propaganda films. Rather, most were distinguished by their sheer banality. Eichmann considered himself simply a bureaucrat who cited the usual defense that he was "just following orders." Likely, he believed that to be the case. Countless bankers, lawyers and accountants eagerly put their talents to use for Hitler with nary a distinction about the larger consequences of their actions. It was Eichmann, however, who rose to the challenge of orchestrating the logistics of transporting millions of poor souls to their deaths. He had not a shred of compassion and treated human beings as he might cattle. The film features Werner Klemperer in a rare starring role as the titular fiend. He delivers an outstanding performance that never sinks into parody or over-acting. Curiously, one of his co-stars is John Banner, who would play Sgt. Schultz opposite Klemperer's Emmy-winning portrayal of Col. Klink on Hogan's Heroes several years later. It is morbidly fascinating to see these two future icons of TV comedy on screen in such a somber tale. Banner plays the commandant of Auschwitz and wines and dines Eichmann at his family dinners even as the ovens are being constructed and the gas chambers are running at full capacity. It serves as a reminder that both Klemperer and Banner were well-regarded as dramatic actors prior to their comedic achievements on television.

Operation Eichmann is a flawed, but compelling look at a Nazi technocrat who personally caused the demise of millions of innocent people. With the world presently in the grip of genocidal practices being implemented in the war for the fate of the Ukraine, the movie does provide a cautionary tale for some in the Western democracies who have veered toward authoritarian figures. The film could have been so much more impressive, had the story not been relegated to a factually-flawed script and a routine director. Nevertheless, the fascinating performance by Werner Klemperer is reason enough to recommend this release.

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“DOUBLE W. C. FIELDS”

By Raymond Benson

Kino Lorber has been releasing the W. C. Fields catalog in high definition, upgraded from previous releases on DVD, and two more have come to the fore—You’re Telling Me! and Man on the Flying Trapeze, two titles that don’t immediately come to mind when one thinks of top tier, classic Fields pictures, but never fear—they’re hilarious and worth a look.

You’re Telling Me! preceded The Old Fashioned Way and the brilliant It’s a Gift (both previously reviewed here at Cinema Retro), all three of which appeared in 1934, while Fields (real name—William Claude Dukenfield) still had a working contract with Paramount Pictures. Man on the Flying Trapeze was released in 1935, a return to a “Fields comedy” after the actor took a sidetrack sojourn, courtesy of Paramount, into more high-brow fare (David Copperfield, an Oscar Best Picture nominee, and Mississippi, a musical starring Bing Crosby).

In Telling Me, Fields is Sam Bisbee, an optometrist and amateur inventor (one of his inventions is a “nose-holder-upper,” which pulls one’s nose up to open the nasal passages when in bed). As usual, he’s married to a shrew of a wife (Louise Carter), who is embarrassed by the family’s social status of living “on the wrong side of the tracks.” Their daughter, Pauline (Joan Marsh), is sweet on Bob Murchison (Larry “Buster” Crabbe), who comes from a wealthy, upper class family. Bob’s snobby mother (Kathleen Howard) will not allow her son to marry Pauline, mainly because of her contempt for “low life” Sam. However, Sam by chance meets Princess Lescaboura (Adrienne Ames) on a train. The princess is a visiting dignitary, and she is impressed by Sam’s woeful story of his troubles. Sam is under the mistaken impression that the princess (“Call me Marie”) was about to commit suicide when he meets her, and she plays along to earn his friendship. Marie can see there’s a good man there, so she takes it upon herself to visit his town and make things right between him and his family and the community. Click here to order from Amazon.

Man on the Flying Trapeze has no flying trapezes, but the title possibly suggests the precarious tightrope act that is the life of Ambrose Wolfinger (Fields). He, too, is married to a shrew (Kathleen Howard again, something of the “Margaret Dumont” of W. C. Fields films). Fields has a daughter, Hope (Mary Brian), from a previous marriage, but the second Mrs. Wolfinger’s uptight mother (Vera Lewis) and lazy brother (Grady Sutton) live with them, too. No one in the household can stand Ambrose—in fact, they make his life hell—except for Hope, who adores him. Ambrose loses his job as a “memory expert” because he takes a day off to attend a wrestling match, and it’s one of many things that goes wrong in Ambrose’s world. Luckily, Hope is on hand to steer luck his way.

There are some classic comedic bits in both films. Telling Me has a wonderful golfing sequence toward the end, in which Fields shares the screen with longtime foil Tammany Young (here as a caddy). Flying Trapeze is packed with funny bits. The opening involves two burglars (one being Tammany Young, again, plus a young Walter Brennan!) who get drunk in Fields’ cellar and start singing. Later, the chase of a runaway tire after getting a flat takes Fields onto the railroad tracks provides some laughs, along with the wrestling sequence (featuring a young Tor Johnson as a heavily bearded “Russian” wrestler).

Throughout it all in both films, W. C. Fields maintains a command of the material. The camera loves him, and he obviously loves the camera. This is a period when Fields’ popularity was at its highest, with excellent examples of his impeccable comic timing, slow burns, drunken confusion, and outrageous dialogue.

Both Kino Lorber disks, sold separately, are 2K masters that are indeed an improvement over previous DVD releases. Oddly, both Blu-ray editions feature the same bonus supplement—an episode of the old “Wayne and Shuster” TV show (Johnny Wayne and Frank Shuster, comics of the 40s and beyond, who had some success on television in the 50s and early 60s). The segment focuses on the life of Fields. This same supplement also appeared on the Never Give a Sucker an Even Break Blu-ray disk from the same label. One might have thought that Kino could have found some different supplements to spread around the various Fields titles on release, but that is not the case. Theatrical trailers for both films, and other Kino products, fill out the packages.

You’re Telling Me! and Man on the Flying Trapeze are both worthwhile additions to your W. C. Fields library. They are snapshots of a comic genius in his prime. Click here to order from Amazon.

Lexington Books

222 pages

Illustrated

Hardback

January 2022

ISBN: 978-1-4985-7072-5

RRP: £73.00

BY ADRIAN SMITH

British author Edgar Wallace, aside from the London pub bearing his name, is now largely forgotten in his home country, and is perhaps best remembered, if at all, for his contribution to RKO’s King Kong (1933), although he sadly died before the film was completed. During his immensely prolific career as a journalist, author, poet, playwright, historian, film producer and director, screenwriter and chairman of the British Lion Film Corporation, he published around two hundred novels, almost a thousand short stories and twenty stage plays. It was said that at one point around a quarter of all books being read in the UK were written by Wallace. He was best known for his crime novels, particularly ‘The Four Just Men’ series and the amateur detective J.G. Reeder, but he also created the colonial adventurer ‘Sanders of the River’ and wrote science fiction and comedy stories. His non-fiction often focused on his experiences in South Africa during the Boer War or on his passion for horse racing (the latter of which kept him mostly in debt and helped fuel his need to keep writing).

Many of his stories and plays were adapted by Hollywood and British filmmakers during the 1930s and 1940s, and in the 1960s the tiny Merton Park Studios produced a whopping forty-seven second-feature films under the title The Edgar Wallace Mysteries. These films were so successful that The Shadows scored a chart hit with their cover of the theme music ‘Man of Mystery’.

And yet Edgar Wallace’s work has now mostly fallen out of print in the UK. Perhaps it is because, as he himself once admitted, “I do not write good books, I write bestsellers.” In Germany, however, it was a different story; paperback publisher Goldmanns issued dozens of Wallace novels (and those of his son Bryan Edgar Wallace) in the 1940s and 1950s under the cheap imprint Taschen-Krimi (krimi meaning crime), and these novels were very popular in a post-war country still coming to terms with the relationship it now had with the UK, it’s former enemy in two world wars. Wallace’s stories, often set in a fog-bound London, were a fantasy world of terror and crime where the good guys always prevailed.

In 1959 Danish film company Rialto tried their hand at an adaptation and produced The Mask of the Frog, shot in German language but set in London, and made with a comedic tone which was often found in the original novels. It was such a huge success that it launched a series which ran for over a decade and resulted in thirty-two films, mostly shot in Hamburg or Berlin (with second unit photography in London) and helped launch the careers of such film stars as Klaus Kinski, Karin Dor and Joachim Fuchsberger, as well as attracting stars such as Christopher Lee – he spoke perfect German – who appeared in The Devil’s Daffodil and Secret of the Red Orchid. Each film would begin with the message “Hallo, hier spricht Edgar Wallace.” Other popular films in the series, many of which were dubbed into English and distributed in the UK and the USA, included The Dead Eyes of London, The Ringer and The Hunchback of Soho. Towards the end of the cycle, Rialto joined forces with Italian filmmakers to make Double Face, What Have You Done to Solange? and Seven Blood-Stained Orchids, generally thought of as giallo films but released in Germany as part of the Krimi series.

Although Rialto’s Krimi production ended in the early 1970s, the films lived on through regular television screenings, and thus the popularity of Edgar Wallace has endured, and German translations of his novels have remained in print ever since. And whilst several German volumes have also been published dedicated to this series of films, until now the main English-language writing on the Krimi phenomenon was in the magazine Video Watchdog back in the 1990s. Nicholas G. Schlegel’s new book German Popular Cinema and the Rialto Krimi Phenomenon: Dark Eyes of London is therefore a very welcome and much- needed addition for anyone interested in exploring these films in more detail. With an insightful analysis of each of the films and their reception, alongside a history of the post-war German film industry and where these films sit within that context, reading this book will have you eagerly seeking out copies of all of them. Fortunately, a great deal of the Rialto Krimis are now available on DVD and Blu-ray with English subtitles, and occasionally with the original English dubs (sometimes the films were shot in both languages, with different actors), although some are still only available in German. Perhaps the films are considered to only be of commercial interest to German-speaking audiences. It can be hoped that the renewed interest this book will spark amongst English-speaking film fans will encourage the rights holders to eventually make all these films available.

Although the idea of 1960s German film adaptations of Edgar Wallace may not be everyone’s cup of tea (something which is drunk with great regularity in the films themselves), I would strongly encourage you to at least seek one out. They are great fun, balancing humour with tales of outlandish criminal masterminds (the tone often recalls episodes of The Avengers), and the novelty of seeing people in English police uniforms talking in German about Scotland Yard adds an additional element of charm to the whole thing. This new book from Schlegel is an essential read, taking in the films, the industry, their enduring legacy, and global influence. The hardback is admittedly something of an eye-watering price, but well worth it for the serious Krimi fan. For the curious, perhaps wait patiently for the paperback.

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“IS YOU IN THERE, ZOMBIE?”

By Raymond Benson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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“W. C. FIELDS AND THE TERMITE’S FLOPHOUSE”

By Raymond Benson

By 1939, comic superstar W. C. Fields (real name William Claude Dukenfield) had a love-hate relationship with Hollywood. While he was still something of a box office draw and enjoyed immense popularity, Fields’ relationship with the bottle was causing more problems for the actor, and he had lost his contract with Paramount, the home of his earlier talkies. After a resurgence in admiration due to radio broadcasts with ventriloquist Edgar Bergen (and his dummy partner, Charlie McCarthy), Fields signed a new contract with Universal. The first picture out of the gate was a team-up with Fields and Bergen/McCarthy.

You Can’t Cheat an Honest Man can’t be counted among Fields’ best pictures, but it’s entertaining and funny enough. It is arguable that Bergen and McCarthy steal the show based on Bergen’s charm and good looks, and Bergen’s is the most likable character in the story. While Fields has some great signature lines in the picture, Bergen and McCarthy have a great deal of funny dialogue.

The movie’s story is by Fields (using the pseudonym Charles Bogle), with a screenplay by Everett Freeman, Richard Mack, and George Marion, Jr. George Marshall received screen credit as director, although historians have claimed that Marshall and Fields did not get along. Hence, Edward F. Cline was brought in to exclusively work with Fields on his scenes; Cline was then hired to direct Fields’ next films with Universal. Furthermore, second unit director B. Reeves Eason did more than his share of action and chase sequences. Remarkably, the film, with three directors, came out all right.

Fields is Larsen E. Whipsnade (Larsen E.? Get it?), a traveling circus proprietor who cheats his own staff by not paying them. The law is after him, too, and the circus is one step away from bankruptcy. He has grown children not involved in the circus—Vicky (Constance Moore) and Phineas (John Arledge). Phineas wants Vicky to marry wealthy but boring socialite Roger Bel-Goodie (James Bush) so that Phineas can get a job in Roger’s company, but Vicky isn’t keen. When she visits her father at the circus, Vicky meets Edgar Bergen (playing himself, as one of the circus acts), who is never without his dummy, Charlie. Edgar immediately falls for Vicky, and while Whipsnade has no problem with Edgar, he can’t stand Charlie (a “termite’s flophouse!”). Vicky eventually agrees to marry Roger in order to become wealthy enough to save her father’s circus. During the final half hour of the film, Vicky and Roger’s engagement party at the posh Bel-Goodie mansion becomes a chaotic disruption as Whipsnade manages to insult and frighten the elder Bel-Goodies, while Edgar/Charlie have been cast adrift in a weather balloon. Will Vicky and Edgar get together? Will the circus be saved? Who cares, it’s all just a vehicle for the brilliance of W. C. Fields’ comedic antics and Edgar Bergen’s talent at ventriloquism.

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray 2K master looks and sounds fine, certainly an upgrade from previous DVD releases. There is an informative and humorous audio commentary by film historian Michael Schlesinger, plus the theatrical trailers for this and other Kino Lorber releases.

You Can’t Cheat an Honest Man is for fans of W. C. Fields, Edgar Bergen, and late 1930s Hollywood comedy. As Larsen E. Whipsnade’s grandfather Litvak used to say, “You can’t cheat an honest man. Never give a sucker an even break or smarten up a chump.”

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Like many boys who grew up in the 1960s, I was addicted to Mad magazine. It's sarcastic satires of politicians and pop culture figures were all the rage and the magazine was a showcase for some truly impressive writers and artists. Mad pushed the envelope in some regards but publisher William Gaines still maintained a family-friendly facade. In 1970 (I assure, that is A.D.), I entered high school a few months after another satire magazine, National Lampoon, published its premiere issue. The first issue I saw featured a striking cover by artist Frank Frazetta that spoofed those old jungle movies. It depicted a courageous white guy saving a scantily clad white woman from a hoard of African natives. It was titled "White Man's Wet Dream". I was hooked before I opened the magazine. National Lampoon became a "must-read" for young people of the era. Unlike Mad, there were no holds barred when it came to off-limits subjects. Anyone and anything was fair game for the team of talented writers and artists, many of whom would go on to notable careers. The sexual content was presented in a humorous manner but it broke barriers in terms of what was depicted. Even the official line of National Lampoon souvenirs were hawked by topless young women. The success of the Lampoon was such that, by 1978, the company entered the movie business. The first release, "National Lampoon's Animal House" made John Belushi into a big screen star and elevated John Landis from obscurity into one of the industry's hottest directors. The film was a sensation so it seemed inevitable that more Lampoon films would emerge- and they did, though none of them were related to the original movie. Chevy Chase starred in some of the popular "Vacation" movies that bore the banner of the Lampoon, but most of the other attempts to blend the magazine concepts to the big screen resulted in rather nondescript productions that had little theatrical exposure before going to home video. By 1998, the magazine itself had run out of steam and ceased publication after a glorious and influential run, although the company name is still actively linked to various TV, video and big screen projects.  

One of the more obscure feature films is "National Lampoon's Movie Madness", a 1982 collection of unrelated comedies stories linked by nothing other than the Lampoon name. As the old joke goes, "the movie wasn't released- it escaped!", as indicated on IMDB, which lists the film's theatrical gross as $63,000, which was probably due to tickets sold to just the people involved in making it. The movie marked the debut of director Bob Giraldi, who promptly left feature films to become one of the top music video directors in the industry. One segment of the film was directed by Henry Jaglom..yes, that Henry Jaglom, the acclaimed director of indie films who has developed a loyal international fan base. It's telling that while Jaglom continued making feature films, he has never worked for a major studio again. The mess of a feature film consists of three separate stories. In "Growing Yourself", Peter Riegert is Jason Cooper, a rich New York Yuppie with a wife (Candy Clark) and two small kids. One day, on a whim, he tells his wife that they should leave each other in order for both them to find the space to "grow". Without batting an eye, she promptly leaves. Jason adopts an increasingly bizarre lifestyle that includes turning his apartment into a jungle of sorts. He pursues unsuccessful relationships with women, including a 14 year-old temptress played by young Diane Lane. At one point, he gives away custody of one of his children to a stranger without batting an eye. When his wife returns later, she informs him that she has gone from housewife to running Union Carbide. The entire scenario is weird but occasionally amusing because the characters simply accept mind-boggling developments with barely a shrug - and Peter Riegert plays the smarmy, self-absorbed Jason with just the right touch.

The second tale is "Success Wanters" and features Ann Dusenberry as an aspiring stripper, Dominique, who makes the ill-fated decision to appear at a convention of executives for the butter industry. Within minutes, the horny, tuxedo-clad, cigar smoking middle-aged execs decide to gang rape her--- and use some handy sticks of butter as useful novelties. This was the early 1980s and group sexual abuse could still be shown to comedic effect, although fortunately, we aren't treated to seeing the dirty deed itself. Instead of going after the rapists legally, she decides to bring down the entire butter industry by making Americans more addicted to margarine (I'm not making this up, folks.) This she achieves by becoming the mistress of a margarine magnate (such people must exist) played by Robert Culp. While he's on his death bed, she gets him to sign his empire over to her and she wields her new powers to mortally wound the butter industry, a strategy that sees her seducing the President of the United States (Fred Willard) and the First Lady. Despite the outrageous scenario, the entire segment is more absurd than funny.

The last, and least, of the segments is "Municipalians",which finds young Robby Benson as a rookie L.A. cop partnered with a season veteran played by Richard Widmark. The entire scenario centers on us watching the hopelessly innocent, naive and perpetually smiling Benson become corrupted by the system and the dehumanizing crimes he's forced to deal with, all unfolding as Widmark sits in the squad car ignoring the violence around him as he counts the days until his retirement. Eventually, Benson becomes a raging lunatic himself. The segment had possibilities in terms of satirizing the cliched scenario of the young cop teamed with the grumpy veteran, but the result is awful in a mind-boggling way. Benson is game to try anything under Jaglom's misdirection but we can assume he was happy that virtually no one saw the film. Only Widmark emerges with his dignity intact. Jaglom later blamed the studio for compromising his segment but if they cut any footage, it was probably considered to be a humanitarian gesture.

Code Red has released "National Lampoon's Movie Madness" on Blu-ray to the joy of bad movie fans and the probable disgust of anyone still alive who was involved in it. The Zucker brothers had the right touch for these types of theatre of the absurd premises but directors Giraldi and Jaglom have heavy hands and are working with pretty awful scripts. The only saving grace is the abundance of veteran actors and up-and-comers who make appearances. They include Elisha Cook, Jr, Rhea Perlman,Tito Vandis (a rare performance that clicks), Joe Spinell, Olympia Dukakis, Dick Miller, Christopher Lloyd, Julie Kavner and even porn superstar Harry Reems. The only one who makes an impression is Henny Youngman, whose 30 seconds of rapid-fire old jokes makes you wish they would have simply used his stand-up act to close out the latter part of the film. From a sociological view, however, it's interesting how audience's tastes have changed over the ensuing years. At times it appears the primary reason for the film's existence was to exploit each of the actresses who appear topless at length in the first two segments, despite the fact that it certainly wasn't essential to the script. Giraldi's cameras linger on the undraped actresses who engage in small talk to justify the exploitation. For those viewers of a certain age, there may be pangs of nostalgia for an era in which no one was overly-concerned about such practices, but judged by today's industry standards, it would be largely unthinkable to film segments such as these.

The Code Red video looks reasonably good and the only bonus feature is a trailer. In viewing it, I came to the conclusion that the studio should have released only the trailer and called it a day. The movie poster artwork depicted on the sleeve seems to be an homage (or rip-off) of Jack Davis's iconic campaign for "Its' a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World". Sadly, the comedic analogies end there.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Scholars have long debated whether it was Mark Twain or newspaper editor Charles Dudley Warner who came up with the oft-quoted quip "Everybody complains about the weather but nobody does anything about it." Regardless, the sentiments of the quotation can easily be applied to the annual Academy Awards ceremony. Dwindling ratings, lack of enthusiasm among young movie-goers, an industry bereft of the legendary personalities audiences used to tune in to see- all of these factors have put the Oscars on pop culture life support in recent years. Who knew all it would take was one superstar in meltdown mode to make last night's ceremonies "must-see" TV? Unfortunately, the entire ceremony will always be remembered for Will Smith's act of inexcusable violence against presenter Chris Rock, who remained cool and dignified under very strained circumstances. There's no point in going into details because by now you know what happened. Smith's temper tantrum marginalized everything that followed as the attendees and viewers around the world tried to make sense of what they just saw. Forty minutes later, Smith received the Best Actor Oscar in front of an audience of boot lickers who couldn't resist giving him a standing ovation. In a bizarre speech, Smith did apologize to the Academy and the nominees, but not the man he assaulted. He then delivered a seemingly endless, self-pitying and self-indulgent, teary-eyed acceptance speech in which he insinuated that his actions were in defense of his wife, much as the character he played in the film was defensive of his family. Talk about taking Method Acting to an extreme...Somewhere along the line, Smith became almost incoherent and began to sound like Brando's Colonel Walter E. Kurtz. The Academy considered having him escorted from the auditorium, as they certainly would have if he were a mere mortal. However, they balked and allowed him to stay and enjoy the moment of his Oscar win. Tonight, top brass are meeting to consider ejecting him from the Academy because he clearly violated their ethics policies. More realistically, they are probably meeting to discuss how to justify not ejecting him from the Academy. Perhaps not coincidentally, Smith has issued a formal written statement of apology to all concerned, including Chris Rock. It reads:

“Violence in all of its forms is poisonous and destructive. My behavior at last night’s Academy Awards was unacceptable and inexcusable. Jokes at my expense are a part of the job, but a joke about Jada’s medical condition was too much for me to bear and I reacted emotionally.

I would like to publicly apologize to you, Chris. I was out of line and I was wrong. I am embarrassed and my actions were not indicative of the man I want to be. There is no place for violence in a world of love and kindness.

I would also like to apologize to the Academy, the producers of the show, all the attendees and everyone watching around the world. I would like to apologize to the Williams Family and my King Richard Family. I deeply regret that my behavior has stained what has been an otherwise gorgeous journey for all of us.

I am a work in progress.

Sincerely,

Will”

Well, better late than never. Believe it or not, there was a lot more to the evening than this surrealistic incident. Here are some random observations:

• I thought the premise of having a trio hosting the show-Amy Schumer, Regina Hall and Wanda Sykes- sounded like a fairly ill-conceived idea. I was wrong. It was very ill-conceived.Their entire shtick could have been eliminated without much loss to the ceremonies. Keep in mind, ABC-TV demanded that numerous category of awards be presented prior to the show in a separate ceremony, thus setting off a firestorm by insulting and marginalizing those who were affected. They ended up deceiving the audience by using clever editing techniques to imply the acceptance speeches of these winners were taking place live. Why was all this necessary? Because the network had plunked down $100 million for broadcast rights and wanted to ensure there was plenty of time for the hosts to display their comedic talents. Aside from a few good one-liners, the most impressive aspect of their contributions was the ability of potty-mouthed Amy Schumer to keep things relatively clean throughout the show.
  
• There were erratic elements to the program. Beyonce performed one of the nominated songs but she wasn't in the building, as the Academy had her in an elaborate musical extravaganza that had been pre-taped outside of the auditorium. Isn't it traditional to have the songs all performed in front of the audience? She might just as well have been in London. Then there was the pathetic pandering to youth in the quixotic hope that young people will once again make tuning into the Oscars a tradition. Good luck. Many of the people they are trying to reach don't even feel obliged to own a television. Nevertheless, there were bizarre attempts to appeal to youth including the introduction of a celebrity DJ (!) who made a brief appearance before thankfully seeming to fade into oblivion. 
  
• I usually gripe about the annual tribute to artists and industry types who passed away in the last year because inevitably they leave out plenty of notable people who deserved inclusion. This year, I didn't even attempt to make a list of the omissions, preferring to use Turner Classic Movies' annual memorial video as the gold standard of remembering the dearly departed. The Academy obviously left out a number of people because they provided a web site address you can visit to find tributes to the folks they intentionally snubbed. Oh, and keep in mind that the only reason they refuse to extend this segment is because they feel it's more important to have more jokes and comedy skits during the broadcast. I should point out that even the memorial presentation was strange. It was shown on a big screen in front of a large group of people singing and dancing as though we were in a Busby Berkeley musical. Then, Jamie Lee Curtis stopped the proceedings to pay special tribute to Betty White and later Billy Murray did the same to remember his friend, director Ivan Reitman. Two observations: I respect Betty White as much as anyone, but she was not known for her work in feature films, as she was a television icon. Also, selecting two people out of all those who passed away to receive special treatment made everyone else being honored look like chopped liver.
• As for fashion, elegance was happily in style and so was cleavage. Many of the ladies were clad in outfits with plunging necklines that would have looked at home on the cover of one of those bodice-ripper romance novels, but no problem in this corner because it provided some old style high fashion. However, it came as a surprise that the most cleavage to be revealed was courtesy of Timothee Chalamet, who was wearing a glittery woman's jacket by Louis Vuitton- minus anything under it. At least he could rest easy that no other guy was going to show up in the same outfit.
• There were the usual unwelcome political jokes but they were thankfully in short supply. Schumer, Sykes and Hall decided to stage a comedy bit involving people testing positive for Covid-19. Considering we're losing 800 people a day in America (the equivalent of a 9/11 or Pearl Harbor attack every three days), it's understandable why the premise fell as flat as a pancake.
  
• The Academy chose to use the telecast to promote it's new $400 million museum in L.A., which has been widely panned for favoring politically correct exhibitions over those that would have mainstream appeal for movie lovers. So how did they use this precious telecast time to induce people to visit the museum? By having Wanda Sykes engage in a comedic tour of the premises that was so poorly done that the segment probably persuaded anyone who intended to visit the place to reconsider their plans.
  
• Reunions were the order of the day:  Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman and a bald and bearded John Travolta from Pulp Fiction, Woody Harrelson, Wesley Snipes and Rosie Perez from "White Men Can't Jump" and Francis Ford Coppola, Al Pacino and Robert De Niro to honor "The Godfather". Coppola, newly trimmed-down, looked very healthy and happy but he was the only one who spoke in the brief segment, that also included an uninspired film clip compilation that for some reason was set to a hip-hop song! Coppola made some sentimental remarks but Pacino and De Niro said nothing at all...so what was the point of bringing them to the ceremony only to have them stand there silently? Also, Coppola should have explained that De Niro was there because of his contributions to the franchise through his Oscar-winning performance in "The Godfather Part II", as he did not appear in the original film.
  
• James Bond got plenty of  justifiable attention for the series' 60th anniversary, even if the Academy shattered fans' hopes that "No Time to Die" would land a Best Picture nomination and Daniel Craig would be nominated for Best Actor in his swansong appearance as 007. Instead, there was a nice but rather perfunctory film clip segment of highlights from the series. In a weird decision, the segment was introduced by three hunky guys who didn't even look vaguely familiar to me. They apparently are "extreme athletes", whatever that means. Presumably, internet "influencers" were not available.) Surely, given the number of illustrious people associated with the Bond series, someone of some stature could have introduced the segment. Also, the trio of "extreme athletes" name-checked each of the Bond actors- except George Lazenby, who at least was seen in the video compilation. (Can this guy ever catch a break?) Billy Eilish and her brother Finneas gave a fine live performance of their haunting title theme to "No Time to Die", which was the best of the songs nominated. It won, too, thus making this the third Bond song to win in a row. At least the Academy is atoning for not nominating so many great ones from the past.
  
• Troy Kotsur's win for Supporting Actor in "Coda" made for a moving segment, as he is only the second deaf actor to be honored with an award.
  
• Kudos to Kevin Costner who recalled the splendor of seeing "How the West Was Won" in Cinerama at age seven and extolled the majesty of the presentation and impact it had on him.
• The inclusion of "fan favorite" films was a pathetic attempt to put salve on the wounds of younger movie fans who constantly gripe about their favorite films (i.e superhero flicks) not being nominated in the major categories. Instead of explaining that the nominees are decided by industry professionals in the respective trades and that the ceremony is not a popularity contest, AMPAS decided to allow fans to vote for their favorite films and scenes from movie history. If the winners were any indication of prevailing taste, we'll be giving Pauly Shore a lifetime achievement Oscar in a few years. For the record, the "winners" of these polls were mostly of relatively recent vintage. If you expected to see the likes of "Schindler's List" or "Citizen Kane", you had to settle for "Army of the Dead". Meanwhile, more precious minutes of air time were wasted on showing meaningless clips from these action movies.
  
• Years ago, the Academy decided to stop telecasting the honorary awards to distinguished industry veterans. Fans were outraged. These were often the highlights of the ceremony, but the Academy wanted more time for dumb comedy bits and the network wanted more time for overpriced sponsor advertisements. There was a time they would at least air snippets of the honorees accepting their awards at a separate ceremony, but even that was asking too much. Thus, we got to see this years honorees: Liv Ullmann, Elaine May and Samuel L. Jackson sitting like mannequins as they were acknowledged for a few seconds. If you wonder why some of us pine away for these awards to be an integral part of the ceremonies once again, just watch this segment from the 1972 telecast when Charles Chaplin returned to America from exile in Europe after he had been blacklisted by Hollywood in the 1950s. We're never likely to see anything like this again because the Academy and ABC simply need to have more kitsch.

The show wrapped up with announcement for Best Picture but things went awry. In an admirable sentimental gesture, Lady Gaga accompanied a wheelchair-bound Liza Minnelli to the stage to commemorate the 50th anniversary of "Cabaret" and to have Minnelli read the title of the winning film. Unfortunately, Minnelli was not up to the task. She was clearly feeble and disoriented. Seeing her in such an undignified light was a painful experience, despite Lady Gaga's good intentions.

Believe it or not, I do not enjoy trashing the Oscars. It's a thankless task to bring this lumbering giant to TV every year and countless talented people work endless hours to achieve that task. Even the worst Oscar ceremonies have plenty of entertainment value and this one was no exception. The worst aspect of it- Will Smith's behavior- was beyond the producer's control as it occurred spontaneously. Although in some bizarre fashion, Smith might well have provided a reason for the Oscars to become "must-see" TV once again.

“A RISE AND A FALL IN TECHNICOLOR”

By Raymond Benson

A Star is Born has been made many times—as four Hollywood feature films, one television movie, and one Bollywood picture. The 1937 original, produced by David O. Selznick, directed by William A. Wellman, is often forgotten amongst the more recent versions, such as the celebrated 2018 remake starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper.

For this reviewer’s money, the 1937 A Star is Born is superior to them all. Granted, it is obviously dated and one must place oneself within the context of the period in which the movie was released. It is also not a musical, as all the others are. The first version also deals exclusively with the motion picture industry. The second one, released in 1954 and starring Judy Garland and James Mason, did as well… but following adaptations went more into the music professions of the characters and incorporated Grammy Awards rather than Oscars. If you want A Star is Born without musical numbers, and there is ample support that the piece works more realistically without them, then the 1937 version is for you.

The Oscar winning story, by William A. Wellman and Robert Carson, was the basis of all the remakes, but here it was the origin, turned into a screenplay by Carson, Dorothy Parker, and Alan Campbell. The tale is by now familiar ground—a young woman becomes a star overnight while simultaneously her husband experiences ruin. A rise and a fall, all in lovely Technicolor!

Esther Blodgett (Janet Gaynor) is an innocent but bright-eyed farmgirl who is intent on making her way to Hollywood to become an actress. Against her father and aunt’s wishes, but encouraged by her grandmother, Esther leaves the nest and goes to Tinsel Town. She quickly learns that things are not so easy. With the help of a neighbor, Danny (Andy Devine), who happens to be an assistant director, she is placed in positions where she can “meet” people. Sure enough, she encounters a big star, Norman Maine (Fredric March). Unfortunately, Norman’s glory days seem to be behind him as the bottle has dictated a gradual descent in popularity. Nevertheless, Norman is struck by Esther and finagles a screen test for her with his producer, Oliver Niles (Adolphe Menjou). Oliver immediately sees Esther’s potential, gives her the more marketable name of “Vicki Lester,” and she is off and running. Promising to quit drinking, Norman asks Esther to marry him, and she accepts. But as Esther/Vicki becomes more successful, Norman falls off the wagon and their relationship goes off the rails.

There is one scene that exists in all the versions of A Star is Born, and that is when the husband embarrasses his wife during her moment of triumph at an awards ceremony—here the event is the Oscars, as it is in the 1954 edition. The moment is powerful and excruciating, and it is one of the reasons both Gaynor and March were nominated for Best Actor and Actress for the film.

Producer Selznick was known for overseeing lavish, gorgeous productions, and A Star is Born fits the bill. Beautifully photographed in that distinctive, vivid 1930s Technicolor by W. Howard Greene (who received an Honorary Oscar for his achievement), the picture displays the glitz and glamour of that bygone, mythical Hollywood era. Director Wellman was nominated for his efforts, and the movie was up for Best Picture (the category was called Best Production then).

Gaynor is especially good, and March is always brilliant. The supporting cast—Menjou, Devine, May Robson, Lionel Stander, and Edgar Kennedy—is stellar.

The picture, while assuredly a drama that takes a hard look at the alcoholism destroying Maine, is also striking for the amount of humor it contains. There are many Hollywood in-jokes, such as when Gaynor impersonates several leading actresses of the day when she is waitressing at a star-studded party. Stander, Devine, and Kennedy, known for their comedic turns, also provide much of the levity.

The Warner Archive Blu-ray is a new, meticulous 4K restoration from the original nitrate Technicolor camera negative, and it looks absolutely fantastic. In keeping with Warner disks that employ “A Night at the Movies” supplements, this one contains a treasure trove of extras. The 1938 cartoon, “A Star is Hatched,” is one of those Looney Tunes that features Hollywood star caricatures, and it’s hilarious. A 1937 comic short featuring Joe Palooka and Shemp Howard, “Taking the Count,” is amusing, and two other vintage shorts—“Mal Hallett and His Orchestra” and “Alibi Mark”—are also entertaining and indicative of the type of fare one would see at the theater in those days. The disk also incudes two different Lux Radio Theater broadcasts of the story—one from 1937 featuring Janet Gaynor and Robert Montgomery, and one from 1952 starring Judy Garland and Walter Pidgeon. The theatrical trailer rounds out the package.

This new region-free Blu-ray edition from Warner Archive is a must for fans of any version of A Star is Born. The 1937 original, though, is and will always be grand entertainment. Highly recommended.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

It isn't often that you might expect to read the word "delightful" in a review of a Charles Bronson movie but "From Noon Till Three" is just that: a delightful 1976 send-up of the traditional Western genre. In fact it seems like this was the year in which numerous revisionist Westerns were released. They included "Buffalo Bill and the Indians", "The Outlaw Josey Wales", "The Missouri Breaks" and John Wayne's final film, "The Shootist". By 1976 Charles Bronson was an established screen presence for about two decades.He was a familiar face to American movie-goers who liked his work as a supporting actor but it was the European market that elevated him to star status. Bronson finally began to get top-billing in Westerns and action films and became reasonably popular in America. But it was the 1974 release of his smash hit "Death Wish" that saw him soar to the level of superstar. The film was a mixed blessing. Bronson made some good films in the following years but eventually succumbed to the lure of a quick pay check, cranking out low-end urban crime movies that were often as absurd as they were over-the-top. "From Noon Till Three" allows Bronson and his real life wife and frequent co-star Jill Ireland a rare opportunity to flex their comedic muscles, which they do impressively. 

Bronson plays Graham Dorsey, a member of small time gang of bandits who are riding into a one-horse town to rob the bank. The film's opening is quite eerie as the bandits become unnerved when they discover there isn't a single living soul anywhere in the town. This sets in motion a "Twilight Zone"-like beginning that is quickly explained as a nightmare Dorsey is suffering, but is nonetheless quite effective for grabbing the viewer's attention.  When the gang nears the actual town, Dorsey's horse goes lame and must be shot. He rides double with another bandit until they reach the opulent mansion house of Amanda (Jill Irleand), an attractive widow who resides in the countryside with only a maid and servant as companions. When the bandits arrive on her doorstep, she is home alone and is understandably filled with anxiety being in the company of the men, who demand she give them a horse. She lies and says she doesn't have one- and Dorsey validates her story, opting to stay behind at the house while the robbery takes place. He finds Amanda very desirable but none-the-less acts like a gentleman- though as her tough facade fades, she becomes susceptible to his charm. Dorsey claims he suffers from incurable impotence, a ploy that works when Amanda finally volunteers to "cure" him. This results in the pair spending several heavenly hours together enjoying sexual adventures and falling in love. When word reaches Amanda that Dorsey's fellow bandits have been captured, she implores him to try to save them from hanging. Dorsey pretends to ride to their rescue, but instead bushwhacks a traveling con man and adopts his identity. The other man is mistaken for Dorsey and shot dead by a posse. Dorsey is ironically arrested because the man he is impersonating is also wanted by the law. Got all that? Things get really complicated when Dorsey spends a year in prison, studying (ironically) how to be a banker. He intends to return to Amanda and live their dream of moving to Boston, where he can get a job as a bank manager. When he returns to the woman he has been obsessing over for the last year, the reception he receives from her is something less than welcoming. Seems that since she believed Dorsey was dead, she set about memorializing him in a memoir titled "From Noon Till Three", a scandalous record of the hours in which they made love and fell in love. In the book, Amanda relates tall tales about Dorsey's crime exploits that he had previously bragged about...and she takes a bit of intentional creative license by describing him as an elegant, dashing man when, in fact, he looks like what he is: a saddle tramp. To say much more would spoil the fun. Suffice it to say that the film really kicks into gear when Dorsey discovers that Amanda's memoir has become an international sensation and she is idolized worldwide by both men and women. She doesn't have much incentive to now admit that Dorsey is not only alive and well but also falls considerable short of the handsome hunk the world has come to imagine.

"From Noon Till Three" is stylishly directed by Frank D. Gilroy and its based upon his novel of the same name. Gilroy had the magic touch in terms of bringing out the best in both Charles Bronson and Jill Ireland, both of whom rarely had an opportunity to demonstrate their flair for light comedy and they are both terrific. Gilroy, who also penned the screenplay, took advantage of a new era of cynicism in major films and "From Noon Till Three" proved to be far ahead of its time in predicting how the general public can be bamboozled into believing urban legends if they are marketed creatively enough. (Coincidentally, Paddy Chayefsky's "Network", released the same year, took an equally cynical view of the current day  TV news industry.)  The movie is a wealth of small pleasures and unexpected plot turns and boasts a fine score by Elmer Bernstein and impressive camerawork by Lucien Ballard, not to mention an impressive mansion house set by Robert Clatworthy. I don't want to overstate the merits of the film but I do want to point out that even if you're not a Bronson fan you should give this one a try.

"From Noon Till Three" is currently streaming on Amazon Prime. 

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

The niche market video label Code Red continues its distribution alliance with Kino Lorber, which is a very good thing for lovers of obscure retro movies. Case in point: "Story of a Woman", a 1970 drama that I will admit I was unaware of until receiving a review screener. The film is a truly international affair, shot in Europe by Italian director/writer/producer Leonardo Bercovici and starring two American male leads and Sweden's Bibi Andersson as the female protagonist. Andersson was making a name for herself in English-language cinema after having appeared in several of Ingmar Bergman classics. She plays Karin Ullman, an adventurous young Swedish woman who has left her home to study piano at a music conservatory in Rome in 1963. Here, she meets cute with Bruno Cardini (James Farantino), a hunky and charismatic medical student who has the good fortune of inadvertently causing a fender bender with Karin's car in one of the city's notorious traffic jams. All is immediately forgiven once Karin realizes she is hopelessly smitten with Bruno, and vice-versa. Soon, they are enjoying a Hollywood-like romance and Karin considers making their relationship permanent. That is, until she receives a visit from a middle-aged woman, Liliana (Annie Giradot), who explains she is Bruno's long-suffering wife. She says he has long been a serial philanderer and user of women.  Liliana says he is now tired of suffering in silence. It seems Bruno is dependent upon her considerable wealth and she has given him an ultimatum: stop having affairs or lose your financial lifeline. Heartbroken and emotionally shattered, Karin leaves Rome to return to her parent's lake house on the outskirts of Stockholm. Here she finds her family and friends are able to provide her with solace. Things improve dramatically when she once again meets cute with a handsome man, this one American David Frasier. He's the polar opposite of Bruno: he's middle-aged and is the very definition of responsibility, as he is attached to the U.S. embassy in Rome as a high level diplomat. Soon, he and Karin progress from being lovers to a married couple. Life is fun and glamorous for Karin, as she attends parties with international dignitaries and the couple live a relatively high life style. Karin gives birth to a daughter and they move briefly to London where David has been assigned before returning to Rome. Here, things get messy when Bruno has a couple of coincidental meetings with her (seemingly unlikely given the vastness of the Eternal City.) Bruno explains what the viewer has already seen: he and Liliana had a terrible argument while in the car and a resulting accident cost Aliana her life. Bruno is now single and is regarded as one of Italy's top professional soccer players. In fact, he is a national idol. He comes across as repentant and sorry for the pain he previously caused Karin- but makes it clear he wants to resume their relationship. Karin prides herself on being a loyal wife and a good mother. She consistently rejects Bruno's advances...until she ultimately begins to weaken.

In the quaint vernacular of when "Story of a Woman" was made, it would probably have been referred to as "a woman's picture". There is no doubt it's a soap opera, but it's a surprisingly compelling one thanks to an engrossing script and interesting characters. The situation Karin finds herself in poses a question that many people have found it difficult to deal with: is it possible to learn to "unlove" someone from your past, even if you know that seeing them again is wrong in every logical respect? Karin begins to see Bruno to talk things out but David finds out and makes it clear that their marriage is on the verge of a breakdown. However, a darker side of Bruno begins to emerge, making Karin reevaluate her future.

The movie boasts some fine performances. Bibi Andersson is very good indeed as the woman caught in a love triangle. She sincerely loves both men in her life but realizes that once she married David, the honorable decision would be to remain loyal to him. However, her past with Bruno appeals the selfish aspects of every human being's personality. As her much-distressed and ever-tolerant husband, Robert Stack is excellent. Stack was generally relegated to bland characters in big screen dramas, probably because of his long-running role as the humorless Eliot Ness in "The Untouchables". Thus, it's good to see him playing a multi-faceted, interesting personality. The scene in which he loses his seemingly limitless tolerance for Karin's indecisiveness results in him having an emotional eruption. The scene provides a showcase for the finest acting I've seen from Stack, who would get a different kind of exposure for his comedic talents in "Airplane!" (1980).  It should be mentioned that Stack and Andersson share a rather steamy love scene that is erotic, yet tasteful. It was fairly daring for two major stars at the time. Annie Giradot also makes an impact in her limited role as Bruno's long-suffering wife. Alas, James Farantino doesn't fare as well. He gives a perfectly fine performance but its undercut by director Bercovici's decision to have him play this Italian character without the slightest attempt to provide even a quasi-Italian accent. Thus, Farantino's Bruno sounds like he just dropped in from Kansas. As screenwriter, Bercovici could have solved the problem with a minor script rewrite in which Bruno would have explained he grew up in America and moved to Rome later in life. Instead, Farantino is able to look the part of an hunky native of Rome but every time he opens his mouth, it detracts from his performance.

The film features some lush locations, nicely photographed by Piero Portolupi and there's a fine romantic score provided by young up-and-comer John Williams. The Blu-ray presents an excellent transfer that helps reaffirm the film's somewhat exotic appeal. The only bonus feature is a trailer. "Story of a Woman" is undoubtedly sudsy in terms of the melodrama but its consistently engrossing throughout.

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