In 1971, a well-connected Dutch prostitute named Xavier Hollander
published her memoirs under the title of "The Happy Hooker". The book
became an international bestseller with its lighthearted recollections
of her adventures in "the world's oldest profession". "The Happy Hooker"
delighted readers who were relishing the new-found sexual freedoms that
came about in the 1960s. Women, who would have been chastised for
reading such a book ten years earlier, could openly read it on buses and
in subway cars because everyone else was reading it. The content
was erotic enough to be titillating but humorous enough to give it
enough cachet to not be labeled pornographic. How much of it was true?
Who knows. bestselling author Robin Moore ("The Green Berets", "The
French Connection"), who actually took down Hollander's recorded
comments on her life, came up with the title and the book was likely
ghostwritten by Yvonne Dunleavy. With the success of the book, it was no
surprise that a few years later Hollywood brought Hollander's exploits
to the screen the film version of "The Happy Hooker". Released in 1975,
it starred Lynn Redgrave in the title role. Not wanting to alienate
mainstream audiences, the film was made as a saucy comedy. It was
followed two years later by "The Happy Hooker Goes to Washington" with
Joey Heatherton portraying Hollander. The third and final film in the
official trilogy (we won't count an unauthorized hardcore production)
was "The Happy Hooker Goes Hollywood", which was released in 1980 with
Martine Beswick (billed here as "Beswicke") taking over the role.
"The Happy Hooker Goes Hollywood" follows the tradition of the
previous two films in that it stresses zany comedy. However, there are
some surprisingly steamy softcore sex scenes between some very
recognizable actors that makes for a bizarre mixture of slapstick and
eroticism. It also features an eclectic cast of first-rate second
bananas who finally get some plum roles on the big screen, albeit in a
Cannon Films production. Cannon, of course, was notorious for being a
highly profitable "cheese factory", churning out many modestly-budgeted
exploitation flicks for undiscriminating audiences. The film opens with a
wheelchair-bound Phil Silvers (yes, that Phil Silvers!) as
legendary studio mogul William Warkoff, an obnoxious one-time titan of
the industry whose fortunes have been in decline. When he reads that
Xavier Hollander intends to bring her bestselling book to the big
screen, he dispatches his long-suffering right-hand men Joseph Rottman
(Richard Deacon)and his son Robby (Chris Lemmon) as well as Lionel
Lamely (Adam West), to secure the screen rights by whatever underhanded
methods are necessary. Lionel arranges a meeting with Xavier, who is
immediately attracted to him. (In fact, she finds most men irresistible
and even seduces her chauffeur en route to the meeting.) Before long,
Lionel and Xavier are engaging in steamy sex sessions. She falls for him
and agrees to allow Warkoff Studios to produce her film- that is, until
she learns that Lionel actually has a longtime girlfriend and has been
misleading her. She then announces she will make the film herself and
secure her own financing, which outrages Warkoff. In order to raise
money, Xavier employs her ever-ready squad of equally happy hookers. She
sets up an exotic bordello in which men can live out any fantasy,
including having sex with a call girl dressed like Little Bo Peep.
(Imagine "Westworld" for fetishists.) Warkoff strikes a more lucrative
deal with Xavier but intends to deceive her and cheat her out of
ownership rights to the film but she is savvy enough to turn the tables
on him.
Directed by Alan Roberts, "Hollywood" has a goofy charm primarily
because of the good-natured performances of the cast. It's nice to see
Martine Beswick in a rare leading role and she plays the part with a
deft combination of wicked wit and eroticism. (Beswick unabashedly
appears topless numerous times in the course of the film). Adam West,
who looks like he had barely aged a day since playing Batman two decades
previously, also gets a chance to showcase his comedic abilities and
admirable physique. The sex scene between Beswick and West's characters
is a bit eye-opening because it's one of the few elements of the film
that isn't played for laughs and there is some kind of pop culture
appeal to watching the Uncaped Crusader getting it on with a two-time
Bond girl. (Beswick would later recall that West felt very uncomfortable when he discovered how erotic the scene would be.)Phil Silvers overdoes the obnoxious aspect of his character
but it's still enjoyable seeing him in a feature film this late in his
career. Richard Deacon, who made a career of playing sycophantic
"yes-men", is in top form and he and West share an amusing scene in
which they are forced to dress in drag. Chris Lemmon is very appealing
as a naive young man who gets caught up in Xavier's world with
appreciable results. He exudes the same comic timing and mannerisms of
his legendary father, Jack. One of the most unintentionally amusing
aspects of the film is the virtual beatification of Xavier Hollander,
whose approval of the movie must have been a prerequisite. In any event,
she is referred to as a titan of business and a living legend, when, in
fact, by 1980 her star had diminished appreciably. The whole plot
climaxes (if you'll pardon the pun) at the "World Premiere" of the
film...which is also unintentionally amusing because it is only a grand
event by Cannon standards, though they did spring for getting a
spotlight and a few dozen extras to act like a screaming mob as the
stars arrive at a nondescript L.A. theater.
"The Happy Hooker Goes Hollywood" is symbolic of a long Hollywood
tradition of glamorizing prostitution. Xavier and her
stable of call girls are all seen as successful, independent
businesswomen who have turned their love of sex into a profit-making
operation. There's nary a hint that most women who practice the
"profession" are actually forced to do so through human trafficking,
exploitation, torture and threat of death. Instead, films like this
prefer to concentrate on the relatively small percentage of women who do
willingly and successfully work as prostitutes. In this respect, the
movie has to be viewed as a product of the era in which it was made.
Because of it's sheer unpretentious exploitation aspects, it can be
enjoyed as a guilty pleasure.
In early November of 1969 Box Office reported Robert M. Weitman, former first vice-president of
studio productions for Columbia Pictures, was striking out on his own.In a sense, anyway.Weitman was to embark on his new career as “independent”
producer, albeit one still tethered to Columbia, the company for which we worked
for some four decades.For his first indie
project, Weitman was interested in optioning novelist Lawrence Sanders’ crime-suspense
thriller The Anderson Tapes.
Interestingly, Sanders’ The Anderson Tapes, though already hyped, was not yet formally published.Putnam & Sons of New York set publication
for 27 February 1970.But with the
forthcoming thriller already in industry preview, the all-important
Book-of-the-Month-Club already selected Sander’s debut novel as an exciting, primary
read.Dell Books too were excited over
the book’s prospects, reportedly offering a figure of six-figures for paperback
rights.On the film industry front, Box Office reported there had been
“intensive bidding” for motion-picture rights to the novel, with Weitman’s
offer managing to nudge out those of “several other major producers.”
It certainly didn’t hurt that best-selling author Mario
Puzo, basking in the success of his mafia novel The Godfather, would bless Sanders’ novel with a generous
plug.Puzo mused The Anderson Tapes was, “the best
novel of its kind I’ve read since the early Graham Greene novels, a gripping
story impossible to put down.The
central character, Duke Anderson, is a classic character of tragic
dimensions.Brilliant and
unforgettable.”By April of 1970,
the rave reviews of critics and literary peers would help push The Anderson Tapes to rest comfortably
alongside The Godfather on Top Ten
book lists for Fictional Works.The timing
and stage was set for Weitman’s film version.The only question now was whom would be cast to effectively breathe life
into the central character of Duke Anderson?
Following his completion of work on You Only Live Twice in 1967, Sean Connery – in his earnest (perhaps
desperate) desire to break free of the typecast shackles of his James Bond
image – chose to seek out a number of eccentric roles in modest continental productions.He was cast as a post-Civil War cavalry
officer in the Edward Dmytryk’s western Shalako
(1968), as a doomed Norwegian polar ice cap explorer (Mikhail Kalatozov’s The Red Tent, 1969) and as a radical
coal miner in Martin Ritt’s The Molly
Maguires (1970).
These were all very good films, without doubt.But none would affirm Connery’s status as a
box-office magnet outside of his James Bond persona.Though he remained a celebrity of acclaim and
international renown, Connery was acutely aware he needed a post-Bond movie to
score big with the public-at-large.Much
of his audience still mostly thought of him as the one-and-only James Bond.It was a time of transition.Connery was also in the midst of his transformation
from actor to canny businessman.He was aware
that to make any real money in the entertainment
industry he needed to extend his business interests into producing and optioning
rights to various creative properties.
With that intent in mind in the mid-summer of 1970
Connery and his publicist-management representative, Glenn Rose, announced the
formation of Conn-Rose Productions. Their partnership was to shepherd and
safeguard the business ends of such varied enterprises as feature film
productions, television packages and theatrical events.The company had recently entered into the music
business as well, choosing to publish several compositions by Richard Harris, Connery’s
recent co-star of The Molly Maguires.Conn-Rose were also planning Harris to direct
and assume the title role of Hamlet
in a new staging of Shakespeare’s tragic play.Connery was hinting he might assume the role of Claudius, murderer of Hamlet’s
father.But Connery’s revived interest
in theatre was not confined to time-worn classics.
One of Conn-Rose’s first acquisitions was the stage
production of Click by playwright
Stan Hart.Hart’s one-act play was first
staged in October 1968 at the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles, one of several
“experimental” theatre projects offered that autumn.Connery was intrigued by the original scenario
and hoped to develop the property as a feature film.Connery explained his excitement to a
correspondent of the San Francisco Examiner,
“This story Click reads like it was
written by Neil Simon and Edward Albee in collaboration.”
“It’s about a successful man so worried about his image
he has even his friends ‘bugged’ and taped to find out what they really think
of him,” Connery continued..“He ruins
his marriage, wrecks his world.This
fellow is ridiculous and sad at the same time.I can hardly wait to get at him…”In September of 1970, Connery promised to another journalist that Click was next on his schedule.Click
was to be filmed in New York City, he offered, cameras likely to roll on the
picture in April of 1971.Sadly, that
project would not be realized.The production
of Click was derailed by a surprising
and unexpected turn-of-events that would take place in March of 1971 – one in which
we’ll get to in a moment.In the
interim, there was another film project needing Connery’s attention.
In July of 1970 the trades were reporting that Connery
had struck a deal with Columbia to appear as John “Duke” Anderson in The Anderson Tapes, Sidney Lumet already
signed on to direct.Connery had worked
with Lumet previously: he had appeared as a renegade British military officer
in the 1965 prison drama The Hill.Connery regarded The Hill as the best motion-picture of his 1960s filmography and,
as such, was happy to work with Lumet again.Shooting on The Anderson Tapes
for Columbia was scheduled to commence on August 24, 1970, one day prior to
Connery’s fortieth birthday, with production to wrap by October’s end.
That October, with The
Anderson Tapes nearing completion, Connery’s enthusiasm for working in a
theatrical setting seemed to have slackened a bit.The actor was cornered on set by journalist
Bernard Drew.Drew asked of Connery’s
ambition to re-engage in theater work.“You never like to close the door completely,” Connery answered
non-committedly, “But I have no great desire, though I do like to direct in the
theatre.What I really want is to direct
a film, and I have a four-picture contract with Columbia.I’m going to direct one, produce one, and act
in two, but nothing is set.These days,
it’s awfully hard to set anything.There’s a crisis in films.All
the companies are in trouble – except Columbia, but still…”
Only two of the prognostications Connery made to Drew that
day would be realized, and even then only in part.If he had
been extended a four-pic contract with Columbia, his second pic for the company,
Robin and Marian, would not be
released until 1976.Likewise, Connery would
not get any chance to direct, but would serve as co-executive producer – and
star - in still another Sidney Lumet helmed feature, The Offence (1973), which was released by United Artists.Regardless, The Anderson Tapes would serve as the undeniable kick-off to
Connery’s second coming as a box-office figure of standing.
Screenwriter Frank R. Pierson (Cat Ballou, Cool Hand Luke)
had been assigned to adapt and re-work Sanders’ eccentrically-composed novel as
a motion picture.This would prove to be
no easy task.Sanders’ novel was not
written in a conventional narrative form: the book details the lineage of burglar
Anderson’s prospective heist through a collection of police reports, court records,
transcriptions and recordings made, illegally, through the use of governmental electronic
surveillance methods: phone wire-taps, antennas, lip-reads, secreted 16mm film
cartridge spools, reel-to-reel and video recordings.The reader is left, essentially, a voyeur,
following the storyline through the reading of police procedurals and transcripts
of wire-taps.
In crafting his screenplay, Pierson exchanges Sanders’
unorthodox and workmanlike gathering of documentary information for a more cinematic
cops-vs-robbers scenario.His script
also incorporates an uneasy measure of light-hearted humor among other scenario
changes.One contemporary review
acknowledged the resulting film offered “a dash of pretentious social
significance” in its commentary.‘Tis
true both Sanders’ book and Lumet’s film somberly reflected a new encroaching era
of real-life, secreted policing methods: FBI, Treasury Department, and police electronic
surveillance techniques were now procedural – if technically illegal - norms.
The scenario of The
Anderson Tapes - at its most basic:the safe-cracking burglar Duke Anderson is released from prison after
serving a ten-year stretch.He’s hardly
repentant and intends almost from his day-of-release to mastermind a grand
burglary of a swanky East 91st Street apartment house in
Manhattan.What Anderson doesn’t
understand is the world has changed during his decade of incarceration.There are now hidden cameras and recording
devices monitoring his every move.Undeterred, he organizes a rag-tag team of ex-convicts, a mob boss who
owes a favor, and various other ne’er-do-wells to assist in his grandiose
scheme.
Among those co-conspirators is Martin Balsam who chews
the scenery in an amusing, over-the-top performance as “Haskins,” a mincing,
homosexual antiques dealer. (It’s a sort of pre-woke interpretation one would
think twice about attempting today).The
comedian/satirist Alan King appears in the role as “Pat Angelo,” the mobbed-up
son of a syndicate figure whom owes Anderson a debt.King had recently appeared in another film of
Lumet’s, the 1968 comedy Bye Bye
Braverman and had previously
co-starred with Connery in the pre-Bond British military comedy On the Fiddle (released in the U.S. during the Bond craze as Operation Snafu.).King is very good in these
films, though he’d later jest he was offended by a good notice received from a critic for his “Pat Angelo”
performance.The critic had mused King’s
acting in The Anderson Tapes was
“surprisingly good,” a comment the comedian couldn’t help but find at least partly insulting.“What’s surprising,” King asked, “about me
being good?”
Sadly, Dylan Cannon, a good actress, isn’t really given
much of a character role to play off as “Ingrid,” a sexy but extortion-prone kept
mistress and an ex-paramour of Connery’s.The Anderson Tapes is also
noteworthy as the first feature film of importance to introduce a tousled-
haired twenty-seven year-old actor named Christopher Walken (“The Kid”) to the
big screen.Walken isn’t given many
lines of dialogue, but is quietly omnipresent throughout.(During the next fifteen-years, of course, Walken
would not only win an Oscar as Best Supporting Actor for his role in The Deer Hunter, but also served as the
last super-villain to be vanquished by Roger Moore’s James Bond in A View to a Kill (1985).One needn’t look too close to notice there
are plenty of familiar faces mixed throughout the cast:Margaret Hamilton, pre-Saturday Night Live Garrett Morris, Conrad Bain and Ralph Meeker
among them.
There’s little doubt that some of the surprisingly brisk,
earliest box office earnings of The
Anderson Tapes had been buoyed by the tsunami of press attention given to a
tangential event.In early March 1971,
it was announced that Connery, following a one film absence, agreed to return
as James Bond in the seventh 007 thriller Diamonds
are Forever.Shortly following the
breaking of that big news, the gossips reported producer Weitman was soon to
test-preview a rough cut of The Anderson
Tapes at a cinema near Kings Point, not far from the Valley Stream, Long
Island home of Alan King.King would later
chuckle that Lumet took advantage of his kindness - and residential proximity
to New York City.“They were so happy to
have me in it,” he explained of his casting. “No wonder.I lent them my house, my car, my pool.”
Lumet, as was his style, took full advantage of the New
York City locations, incorporating some twenty-three location shoots into his
film.These would include the city’s
Port Authority Bus Terminal, the prison on Riker’s Island, the Convent of the
Sacred Heart on the Lower East Side, the 19th Police Precinct
Station House, Alan King’s home, the Supreme Macaroni Factory restaurant on
Ninth Ave. and 38th Street, at the Korvettes Department Store and even
the steam room of Luxor Health Club on West 46th. In December of 1970, Weitman
brought on Grammy-winning producer Quincy Jones to score the film.His soundtrack, which accentuates the film’s urban,
hip-modern setting, features a lot of jazzy, electronic keyboard figures and
twangy, stand-up bass slides.
The timing and success of The Anderson Tapes was fortuitous for Sean Connery.The general popcorn-chewing cinema audiences
– to one degree or another – had largely ignored Connery’s three most recent film
projects 1968-1970.It escaped no one’s notice
that this odd trio of feature films were decidedly retro/historical in vision
and scope:Shalako was set in the year 1880, The Red Tent in 1928 and The
Molly Maguires in 1876.The Anderson Tapes, on the other hand,
was a more accessible film for moviegoers to engage.The film was a very latter-day
suspense-thriller, staged in modern times.
The result is that The
Anderson Tapes, release in June of 1971, allowed fickle movie audiences the
opportunity to preview what a circa 1971 Sean Connery James Bond might look
like.The relationship between the actor
and his audience was largely estranged following his four-year absence as
Bond.To be sure, The Anderson Tapes made plain that Connery’s hair was thinner and
graying.It was also obvious he was
carrying a few more pounds on his frame.Regardless, most would agree Connery appears a bit more athletic and
lean in The Anderson Tapes than he
would even six-months later when Diamonds
are Forever went into wide release.
For all of its intermittent charms, The Anderson Tapes is not
director Lumet’s best film by any measure.The film is a slow burn and even the film’s climatic “action” scene offers
little more than a weak pay-off in the waiting.On one hand Connery’s “Duke Anderson” captures the spirited zeitgeist of the early 1970s anti-hero.His racially intergraded criminal cabal of
ex-convicts is a pre-Rainbow Coalition of sorts: an African-American driver who
lives above a local Black Panther Party chapter (Dick Anthony), an elderly, institutionalized
ex-con more-than-happy to return to prison (Stan Gottlieb), a young
whipper-snapper (Walken), a psychotic mobster (Val Avery), and an alt-lifestyle
burglar (Balsam): all working under the command of Connery who chatters
throughout in an out-of-character Scots brogue.
To their credit, this unusual band of criminals collude
to rip-off the jewelry, artwork treasures and pricey, swanky accoutrements of
the snobbishly wealthy.Their victims
would be the very folks that many resent: moneyed elites who inhabit the poshest
apartment house on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.So while Connery’s endgame is hardly Robin Hood in design, you’re sort
of rooting for this motley band of bad guys to get away with their crazy caper,
no matter how impractical and far-fetched the plan seems.
On the other hand, this is a suspense film sans any real suspense.Just as the film, at long last, begins to
build a modicum of tension as the burglars take command of the apartment house,
Lumet seemingly disrupts any sense of rising suspense with intercuts of what Village Voice critic Andrew Sarris
lamented as “pointless flashforwards.”Sarris
has a point.Perhaps the intent of such scenes
were Lumet’s homages to the jigsaw-like time-jump constructions of Sanders’ original
novel: but as such these interjected moments – almost all played lightly - don’t
work and only diminish any sense of suspenseful tension.
Though flawed, The
Anderson Tapes actually did very well in early release, opening as a
limited showcase in only two New York City cinemas.The initial rush of mostly favorable reviews
and impressive box office receipts caused Columbia Pictures to take out a
celebratory full-page advertisement in the trades.The ad crowed that Lumet’s film had already taken
in some $87, 476, the “Biggest 4-Day Gross for 2-Theatre Opening in Columbia
History!”The film would gradually soften
and lose some of its initial box-office momentum, but would nonetheless generate
a healthful $5,000,000 in rentals through the end of 1975. I personally own copies of The Anderson Tapes in three different
home video formats, including the beautifully packaged Laserdisc version of
1996 (featuring a mind-boggling forty-one chapter stops!).So, yeah, I guess I’m a fan.
This Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu-ray edition of The Anderson Tapes is presented in 1920
x 1080p, with a ratio of 1.85:1, dts sound and removable English
sub-titles.Bonus features on the set
include the film’s original theatrical trailer and a single TV spot.There are also an additional eight trailers
offered in bonus, two of Connery’s (The
Great Train Robbery and Cuba)
along with six other crime-dramas offered by Kino.The Blu-ray comes with a slip case and the disc packaging has reversible sleeve artwork. There’s also an audio
commentary courtesy of film critic and journalist Glenn Kenny.Kenny’s commentary is interesting and revealing
in spots, often taking pains to explain the era of encroaching surveillance era
in which the film is set.But I imagine Kenny
is reading from notes rather than a proper script as his spoken-word commentary
suffers a bit from an endless stream of inter-sentence pauses riddled with hesitant
bridging “ums” and “ahs.” It gets to be a bit much at times, but Kenny’s
commentary is still a worthwhile listen for those wishing to learn a bit about
the film’s backstory.
In this rare in-depth interview, the late Robert Conrad is shown discussing his remarkable career on television. Here is the official description from the priceless "Pioneers of Television" project.:
Robert Conrad sits down to discuss his iconic moments in his career and the famous show "The Wild Wild West"
Director: Steven J Boettcher
Star: Robert Conrad
? About Pioneers of Television
Television’s beloved stars bring their stories to life, offering insider tales and surprising revelations you won’t hear anywhere else. The Emmy-nominated producers of Pioneers of Television open the vault to give you exclusive access.
The Manila International Film Festival was set to open its doors to guests on 20 January 1982. The date was nearly a year to the day that strong-man Philippine President Ferdinand E. Marco had lifted his controversial eight-year term of martial law restrictions in the country. But the lifting of the martial law brought only small relief to the majority populace. ThePhilippines was still racked by issues of rampant poverty, wealth inequality and unemployment. Bothpolitical and cultural observers thought itfolly to stage such a gilded film event during this transitional period.The Associated Press reported the festival was toconvene in a building costing some 21.5 million dollars - and still under construction.The film center, designed to housescreening rooms and film laboratories,was to also serve as primary archive of Filipino cinema holdings.
The center, described as an eight-story “Parthenon-like Film Palace” was ordered to be built withinthe time of 170 construction days. In such rushed circumstance, aroof collapse occurredreportedly endingthe lives of some fourteen construction workers. The order to erect thepalatial center wasgiven by none other than Imelda Marcos, first lady of the Philippines, often chided for her “edifice complex” excesses. Many saw this wild expenditure as sorry government decision-makingconsidering the nation’s significant economic issues. But Marcos – appearing before the press in a pair of lovely pair of shoes, no doubt – saw it differently.
Marcoscountered that a strong Filipino “film industry would help reduce Manila’s crime rate, because it would give people something to do in their leisure time.” But she was also mindful that a prestigious festival might burnish her country’s damaged image worldwide – all those pesky claims of human rights violations continued to dog the regime.Though anti-Marco forces promised to disrupt the festival should it be held, the army was prepared to protect. There was, thankfully, no violence.
On 2 February 1982, a correspondent from Variety sent in a dispatch from the inaugural staging of the twelve-day festival. The report made note that Filipino film product wasn’t often seen outside the borders of the Pacific island nation. He reasoned this was due to the selling inexperience of local producers. They had worked in isolation for so long, they simply were not familiar with the film industry’s “aggressive marketing tactics.” Two months prior to the actual staging of the event, Variety described how “reluctant” Filipino producers had been invited to a seminar – one designed to stoke their “sales offensive” skills through “showmanship” tactics. But the trade sighed that despite the well-intentioned marketing teach-in, the Filipino film industry had been too long xenophobic, their business-side interest mostly “half-hearted.”
Regardless, and despite many boycotts of the Marcos-inspired event, there was a bubbling of international interest in Filipino film product. Brokers had expressed significant interest in buying distribution rights to eight of the Filipino features offered and available, the sum of those investments bringing sales of nearly a half-million dollars to local producers. Nearly 300 films had been made available to international film brokers at the event, sixty of Filipino provenance. One of the most popular Filipino films – described breathlessly as the festival’s “Top scorer by far” - was an unusual, over-the-top secret agent pastiche featuring a two-foot, nine-inch actor named Weng Wengas central hero. (Critic Alexander Walker of London’s Evening Standard would mockingly describe the diminutive Weng as “a James Bond type cut-off”). The Weng film, directed by Eddie Nicart, was mischievously titled For Y’urHeight Only, an obvious word playon the most recent James Bond screen adventure For Your Eyes Only.
I can’t say with certainty that For Y’ur Height Onlyplayed the grindhouse theaters of “The Deuce” on Manhattan’s 42nd Street, but the film would have fit in well there. It’s a spy-film fever-dream of sorts: thecrack addicts and alcoholics in the grungy red seats could awake from their own narcotic-fed hallucinations and behold images on screen even wilder beyond their own madness’s.This was James-Bond-on-a-budget.A very low budget.Weng’s “Agent 00” is even introduced via an ersatz 007 gun barrel sequence, the moment heightened by the pulsing –and very familiar – opening strains of John Barry’s “James Bond Theme.”
The film itself is all spy-film formula.For Y’ur Height Onlyopens with the kidnapping of a scientist who holds the secret formula to a coveted “N Bomb” weapon. The syndicate behind the kidnapping is led by the mysterious “Mr. Giant” who chooses to communicate withhis minions through a blinking-light, oversized facial mirror.Mr. Giant’s crime syndicate is not, all things considered, particularly political. They also dabble in street-level crimes: drugs, prostitution and theft. They’re a cabal of rogues,openly declaring, “The forces of good are our enemy and they must be exterminated.”
In reaction to the kidnapping, little-person Agent 00 (Weng, described as a “man of few words”), is summoned to report to the office of an ersatz “M.” Weng’s boss breaks down the situation before offeringthe agent a staggering number of gadgets to put to use while working in the field. These include a pen that “doesn’t write words,” a tiny jet-pack, and a razor-brim hat with boomerang-return capability. Of courseWeng manages to dutifully employall of these gadgets while targeting the evildoers: one minion remarks, inarguably, that Wengis “a one-an army,”anothertags him as the “scourge of the secret service.”
Honestly, Weng hardly requiresall the gadgetry. He parachutes from the top of a high-rise building using an ordinary bumbershoot for ballast (think Batman ’66 Penguin-style). But he more often employs his karateskills to bring down platoonsof bad guys with multiple sharp kicks to their groins.Weng also appears a lot smarter than his adversaries as well: he’salways a step or two ahead of theircounter-moves.In a filmbrimming-to-the-edgeswith non-stop action, Weng is constantly seen climbing above or understructures orsliding across floors to vanquish evil gunmen. The film reaches its climax when Weng engages in mano a mano fisticuffs with Mr. Giant, at the villain’s secret lair on a hidden island.
I believe it’s reasonable to saythat for all of its eccentric, energetic charm, For Y’ur Height Onlyis completely and utterly bonkers.It’s also a very cheap looking feature film, the settings gritty and tawdry, the scripting ridiculous. The faces of the entire cast are entirely covered in the glistening sheen of South Pacific humidity and sweat. The film’s atrocious dubbing (from native Tagalog to English) – not the fault of the original filmmakers, of course – burdens the soundtrack: an additional later ofaural nonsensetocompliment the madness on screen.Though For Y’ur Height Onlyis often categorized as an “action-comedy” the original filmmakers took exception, arguing it was no such thing. In their mind, they had made a straight-up formulaic spy film, albeit one with an unusual actor in the lead role.
Following the great reaction and interest inFor Y’ur Height Only at the Manila fest, there were discussions of grumbling embarrassment among Filipino artists and intellectuals in attendance. How could this amateurishly produced extravaganza of pure exploitative nonsense have bested the country’s more significantly erudite and artistic entries?But the film brokers at the festival weren’t highbrows. They were interested in buying cheap and making a few dollars off this novelty spy adventure. Kurt Palm of West Germany’s Repa-Film Productions,purchased the rights to For Yur Height Only(and two other of Weng’s films) for $60,000. Sri Lanka chipped in an additional $1500 for Height rights. Before the festival closed,the producers had sold export rights of Height to distributors in Belgium, France, Indonesia, Italy, Morocco, Nigeria and Switzerland, as well asa number of South American countries.Continue reading "AGENT DOWN: THE IMPROBABLE RISE AND SAD FALL OF SECRET AGENT "OO""
Technically speaking, OSS 117 secret agent Hubert
Bonisseur de La Bath is not a James
Bond knock off.The creation of wildly
prolific French author Jean Bruce, the first literary adventure of the spy arrived
in 1949 with the publication of Tu parles d'une ingénue (Ici OSS 117).This
would pre-date the April 1953 publication of the first Ian Fleming James Bond
novel, Casino Royale, by nearly four years.In the years following the publication of that
first 007 thriller to his last in 1965, Fleming would deliver an impressive thirteen
James Bond novels and nine short stories.
In contrast, Jean Bruce would
publish no fewer (and possibly more) than eighty-eight to ninety OSS 117
pulp-adventures between 1949 and March of 1963, the month and year of his
passing. It’s difficult to determine how many of Bruce’s novels were of his
composition alone. His widow, Josette – and later a teaming of the Bruce’s son
and daughter – would continue the pulp series into the early 1990s. So determined
bibliophiles will have their work cut out for them if they wish to track down
all of the 250+ published OSS 117 novels.
If OSS 117 beat James Bond to
the stalls of book-sellers, he also managed to beat him to the cinema
screen.Two OSS 117 films were released
throughout Western Europe and foreign markets in 1957 and 1960: OSS 117 n'est pas mort (OSS 117 is not Dead)
andLe bal des espions
(Danger in the Middle East).The latter title,
interestingly, does not feature “Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath.”Though based on one of Bruce’s OSS 117
novels, a messy rights-issue prevented the filmmakers to use the central
character’s moniker.These earliest
films, produced as routine crime dramas by differing production companies (and
featuring different actors in the title role), came and went without attention
nor fanfare.
But in 1963 Bruce’s OSS 117 character was resurrected as
a cinematic property following the success of Terence’s Young’s Dr. No, the first James Bond screen
adventure.The spy pictures comprising
Kino Lorber’s OSS 117 Five Film
Collection are tailored as pastiches of the popular James Bond adventures
of the 1960s.This new Blu ray set
features the entirety of OSS 117 film thrillers produced 1963 through 1968
during the height of Bondmania.And,
just as the Eon series offered a trio of actors to portray James Bond
(1962-1973), the OSS series would likewise present three in the role of Colonel
Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath.Each actor
would bring some aspect of their own personalities to their characterizations.
Of course, the name Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath is a bit
of a Franco-linguistic mouthful to market successfully overseas.So, throughout the five films the character usually
assumes an Anglo-friendly alias which helps move things along a bit more
smoothly: he alternately assumes – among others - such covert surnames as
Landon, Barton, Delcroix, Wilson and Mulligan.It certainly makes his character’s many “personal” on-screen introductions
easier for all involved.
The Kino set starts off chronologically with 1963’s OSS 117 is Unleashed (original title OSS 117 se déchaîne).Like the four films to follow, the series
were all Franco-Italia co-productions and distributed by Gaumont Films.Unlike those four, OSS 117 is Unleashed is filmed in black-and-white.The monochrome photography is not really an
issue.But cinemagoers were certainly cheated
of enjoying the beautiful beaches and Cliffside scenery of the village of
Bonifacio (off the Corsican strait) in vibrant color.
In OSS 117 is
Unleashed our hero (American actor Kerwin Mathews, best known to American
audiences for his roles in Ray Harryhausen’s special-effect laden epics The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) and The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), is sent
to Corsica to investigate the suspicious death of a fellow agent.We’re told, suspiciously, there’s been, “lots
of accidents among agents near Bonifacio.”A preamble to the film, culled mostly of cold war era newsreel footage,
alerts that an unspecified enemy is working towards “neutralizing” free-world atomic
submarine movements in the area. With
conspirators tagged with such names as “Sacha” and “Boris,” we can reasonably
assume its east-of-the-Iron Curtain intelligence agents behind the plot.
Initially posing as a relative of the recently targeted
and now deceased CIA frogman (and later as a Lloyds of London insurance adjustor),
Mathews must dispatch and/or fend off a series of enemy agents and perhaps a duplicitous
woman.In due course, he survives a poisoning,
several (well-choreographed) hand-to-hand combat sequences and even a submerged
spear-gun and knifing frogman attack.The latter occurs while he’s search of a mysterious submerged
subterranean grotto.The base is outfitted
(as one might expect) with high-tech equipment and a detection system designed
to bring about “the end of atomic submarines.”The secreted grotto is also equipped with a built-in self-destruct
button… always handy, just in case.This
is all definitely Bond-on-a budget style filmmaking.Of course, the idea of covertly tracking atomic
submarines movements brings to mind the storyline of the far-more-lavishly
staged The Spy Who Loved Me (1977).
As far as I can determine, OSS 117 is Unleashed was never released theatrically in the
U.S.But Mathews’ second (and final) outing
as OSS 117, Panic in Bangkok (Banco à Bangkok pour OSS 117) (1964) would
have a belated release in the U.S. (as Shadow
of Evil) in December of 1966.Regardless,
Shadow of Evil was not exhibited as a
primary attraction in the U.S. market.It most often appeared as the under bill to Christopher Lee in The Brides of Fu Manchu or (more
sensibly) to Montgomery Clift’s political suspense-thriller The Defector.
In Panic in Bangkok,
Mathews is dispatched to Thailand to, once again, investigate the assassination
of a fellow agent.The murdered CIA operative
had been investigating a possible correlation between anti-cholera vaccines
produced by Bangkok’s Hogby Laboratories to an outbreak of a deadly plague in
India.The trail leads Mathews to
suspect a certain mysterious Dr. Sinn (Robert Hossein) is somehow involved.Unlike the previous film which lacked a singular
villain with a foreboding presence (ala Dr. No), the filmmakers offer
cinemagoers a more exotic adversary in Dr. Sinn.
A dissatisfied housewife brings home a stranded alien and
gradually falls in love, high school students live in fear after a beautiful student
is found dead, her back snapped across the gymnasium balance beam, a young teen
dates the enigmatic daughter of a mad scientist, in one town aliens have
actually become part of the community and started attending the local school, a
late-night DJ picks up signals from across space which appear to be from his
recently abducted wife, the real Creature from the Black Lagoon finds himself
working in Hollywood and falling for Julie Adams, teens on Lover’s Lane find
themselves fighting back against a potential alien invasion, and mysterious
video tapes show the real Bela Lugosi in films made by Ed Wood that cannot
possibly exist, given that he had died years before.
This new collection of stories by Dale Bailey (some of
which were previously published in magazines including Asimov’s Science
Fiction and Lightspeed) draws on his own memories of half-watched movies
on late-night TV and reading articles in Fangoria. Perhaps because of
this many of the stories are told as if distant, troubling memories are being
reluctantly recalled. Although the cover art may suggest a fun,
nostalgia-tinged trip back to the fifties, these are stories infused with loss,
grief and melancholy; one man recalls visiting his dead brother’s apartment in
Hollywood, trying to understand how they drifted apart, another, whose wife has
been missing since he claims to have witnessed her being taken up into the sky,
can no longer fully connect with the people around him, a young wife lives in a
trailer park struggling to overcome the tragedy of her baby daughter dying just
minutes after birth, and the Creature tries to reconcile his feelings for Julie
Adams with his desperate need to return to the swamps. These are people whose
lives have not turned out the way they had hoped, trying to understand and come
to terms with their frightening, life-changing experiences. Yet at the same
time, Dale, not forgetting what most of us are here for, combines B-movie
tropes and titles such as ‘Invasion of the Saucer-Men', ‘The Ghoul Goes West’, ‘Night
Caller from Outer Space’ and ‘I Was a Teenage Werewolf’, with humour,
real-world heartbreak and longing.
This hardback collection, published by Electric
Dreamhouse, is a wonderful read for any classic movie fan. Each story is
accompanied by a suitably pulpy illustration (dome-headed aliens, slavering
werewolves and pulchritudinous heroines appear to be Sheady’s specialty), and
the book cover is a work of art in itself, packed with imagery from many
drive-in movies, and not just those referenced in the book. These are stories
that will linger in your mind long after reading, much like the tragic tales
themselves have lingered in the minds of their respective narrators.
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.
One
of the most iconic and influential movies ever made, ONCE UPON A
TIME IN THE WEST has been restored from the original 35mm Techniscope camera negative by Paramount’s archive team, L'Immagine Ritrovata and The
Film Foundation. This
restoration honors the 2007 Film Foundation photochemical restoration overseen
by legendary director Martin
Scorsese by matching its build and color palette. The
result is the definitive home release of the film, which features the
165-minute extended cut restored to its glory.
A
must-own for every cinephile’s collection, ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE
WEST will be presented in a Limited-Edition two-disc 4K Ultra
HD/Blu-ray™ set that includes both new and legacy bonus
content, as well as access to a Digital copy of the film. The film is
presented in Dolby Vision™* and HDR-10, along with English 5.1
DTS-HD Master Audio and English Restored Mono Dolby Digital for an exceptional
home viewing experience.
·Commentary
by the Hosts of the Spaghetti Western Podcast –NEW!
·A
Look Back with Leonard Maltin—NEW!
·Commentary
with contributions from directors John Carpenter, John Milius & Alex Cox,
film historians Sir Christopher Frayling & Dr. Sheldon Hall, and cast and
crew
Widely
considered to be one of the greatest Westerns—and one of the greatest
films—ever made, ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST was
selected for preservation by the Library of Congress in the U.S. National Film
Registry in 2009. The film stars Claudia Cardinale, Henry Fonda, Jason
Robards, and Charles Bronson.
Synopsis
Set
in the dying days of the Old West, a struggle to control water in a dusty
desert town embroils three hard-bitten gunmen in an epic clash of greed, honor,
and revenge.
ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST will also be available on
4K Ultra HD Digital on May 14.
This is a limited edition. Click here to pre-order now from Amazon.
Cinema Retro has received the following press release:
Legendary director Don Siegel (Dirty
Harry) directs the iconic John Wayne as an ageing gunfighter dying of cancer in
his final screen appearance, a superb adaptation of Glendon Swarthout's classic
western novel, The Shootist.
John Bernard Books is the stuff of
legend, a renowned 'shootist' whose reputation looms large. But it's 1901, and
like the old west, John is dying and a reputation like his draws trouble like
an outhouse draws flies. As word spreads that the famous gunfighter is on his
last legs, the vultures begin to gather; old enemies, the marshal, newspaper
men, an undertaker, all eager to see him dead. Other men might die quietly in
bed or take their own lives, but J. B. Books will choose his executioner and
face down death with a pistol in each hand.
With an outstanding cast that
features not only Wayne, but James Stewart, Lauren Bacall, Ron Howard, Scatman
Crothers and John Carradine, The Shootist is an elegiac ode to a monumental
screen presence and to the Western genre itself.
Bonus Materials
·New 2K remaster by Arrow
Films from the original 35mm camera negative
·High Definition Blu-ray
(1080p) presentation
·Original lossless mono
audio
·Optional English
Subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
·Brand new audio
commentary by filmmaker and critic Howard S. Berger
·The Last Day, a new
visual essay by film critic David Cairns
·A Man-Making Moment, a
new interview with Western author C. Courtney Joyner
·Laments of the West, a
new appreciation of Elmer Bernstein’s score by film historian and composer Neil
Brand
·Contemplating John
Wayne: The Death of a Cowboy, a new visual essay by filmmaker and critic Scout
Tafoya
·The Shootist: The Legend
Lives On, archival featurette
·Theatrical trailer
·Image gallery
·Reversible sleeve
featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Juan Esteban Rodríguez
·Double-sided fold-out
poster featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Juan Esteban
Rodríguez
·Six postcard-sized lobby
card reproductions
·Illustrated collector’s
booklet featuring new writing by film critic Philip Kemp
This Blu-ray will be released on March 12. Click here to order from Amazon.
The
film noir movement/trend in Hollywood was fading away by the end of the
1950s decade. Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil (1958) is often cited by film
historians and film noir aficionados as the “last true film noir.”
However, one picture released in 1959 could very well take that honor,
for it indeed exhibits many of the traits of pure film noir (black and
white photography, gritty realism, cynical and edgy characters, a heist,
and an ending that is, well, not a happy one).
Odds
Against Tomorrow was set up by actor and musician Harry Belafonte and
was made by his production company. Is it the first film noir with a
Black protagonist? This reviewer can’t think of another that preceded
it. Basing it on a novel by William P. McGivern, Belafonte hired
blacklisted Abraham Polonsky to write the screenplay. Polonsky (who had
written the great Body and Soul, 1947) had been caught up in the HUAC
investigations in Hollywood, refused to testify in the hearings, and was
subsequently blacklisted along with many other writers, producers,
directors, and actors. Polonsky, working with co-writer Nelson Gidding,
wrote the script under a front-pseudonym, John O. Killens, a living
Black novelist. It wasn’t until 1996 that the Writers Guild restored
Polonsky’s real name to the credits.
Belafonte
apparently had wanted to make a movie that was not only a gripping heist
drama but also a statement about prejudice. Of the trio of robbers who
attempt a bank robbery in the film, one is Black (Belafonte), the other
two are White, and one of the latter is terribly racist… a factor that
plays into how the caper ultimately plays out.
New York
City. Dave Burke (Ed Begley) is a disgraced former cop who needs money.
Earl Slater (Robert Ryan) is an embittered, racist war veteran and
ex-con who needs money. Johnny Ingram (Belafonte) is a musician in debt
to a gangster because of a gambling addiction, so he needs money, too.
Slater lives with needy Lorry (Shelley Winters, in one of her whiny
roles) but he has the hots for apartment building neighbor Helen (Gloria
Grahame). Johnny is separated from his wife, Ruth (Kim Hamilton) and
daughter Edie, but he desperately wants to make good and reunite the
family. When Dave learns about an upstate smalltown bank with a
vulnerability, he enlists Earl and Johnny in a scheme to steal $150,000,
split three ways. Johnny doesn’t want to do it, but the pressure from
the mobster and threats to his family force him into it. Earl is not
happy that a Black man is part of the plan, and this tension is a major
conflict in the heist proceedings. To reveal more would spoil the
excitement.
Robert Wise, a filmmaker who seemed to be
able to make a great film out of any genre, is at the helm, and he does a
terrific job. He had worked with Ryan before in the film noir, The
Set-Up (1949). Wise, of course, won Oscars for directing The Sound of
Music (1965) and co-directing West Side Story (1961), but also made such
diverse classics as The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), The Haunting
(1963), and Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979)!
This
is an intense, engaging picture that generates suspense and has
something to say. The script is top-notch, and the performances are
heightened just enough to fit firmly into the film noir style. The
music, composed by John Lewis and performed by the Modern Jazz Quartet,
is phenomenally good, adding another level to the tone and feel of the
movie.
Kino Lorber Studio Classics’ new Blu-ray
presentation is sharp and clean in glorious black and white. There is an
accompanying audio commentary by author/film historian Alan K. Rode.
Supplements include Post Screening Q&A interviews with Harry
Belafonte (in 2009) and Kim Hamilton (in 2007), plus the theatrical
trailer for this and other Kino Lorber film noir titles.
Odds
Against Tomorrow is for fans of film noir, heist movies, Robert Wise,
Harry Belafonte, Robert Ryan, and other members of the sparkling cast.
Highly recommended.
No one has ever clamored for a remake of director Howard Hawks' "Red River". The 1948 film is routinely considered to be one of the great American westerns, although Hawks was never completely satisfied with the end result. Between changes he made to the film and some changes imposed by the studio, the result was that film scholars are still debating which version should be considered as the final cut. However, the film's impact is indisputable. It afforded John Wayne the best role of his career up to that time and elevated up-and-coming Montgomery Clift to major stardom. I must admit that I was surprised to learn of a 1988 television remake of the film when I saw it is now streaming on ScreenPix, an optional subscription channel, which is available for a nominal monthly fee to Amazon Prime subscribers. It would take a big man to step into Duke Wayne's shoes but James Arness filled the bill. In fact, Wayne was a mentor to Arness and made several films with him before he convinced the young actor to accept CBS's offer to star as Marshall Matt Dillon in the TV series "Gunsmoke", an adaptation of the popular radio program. Arness plays Thomas Dunson, who was on a wagon train to Texas along his fiancee. Dunson and his sidekick Groot (Ray Walston in a role originally played by Walter Brennan), leave the wagon train to scout for appropriate land to settle on. While they are away, the wagon train is attacked by Indians. The begins with Dunson and Groot discovering that all of the pioneers have been killed except for a young boy, Matt Garth (Mickey Kuhn), who Dunson unofficially adopts as a son. The gesture proves to be mutually beneficial, as it helps both grief-stricken people cope with their losses. Ultimately, the headstrong Dunson finds the perfect land to claim for his own and it stretches as far as the eye can see. The film then jumps ahead a number of years. Dunson's spread, known as the Red River D, has been a major success and he is getting ready to move his enormous herd to Sedalia, Missouri to sell the steers for a considerable profit. He is heartened by the return of Matt (now played by Bruce Boxleitner), who has been away fighting with Southern forces in the Civil War. With Matt and Groot as his trusted right-hand men, Dunson assembles a major company of experienced drovers for the perilous journey that lies ahead.
As with Hawks' version of "Red River", the TV production chronicles the increased hardships the cattlemen endure and the slow breakdown in morale as food supplies become skimpy and the dangers increase from inclement weather and the threat of hostile Indians. Dunson rules the company with an iron fist and tells the men that he is financially broke, as he's put all of his money into the cattle drive. He reminds them that the only way they will get paid is if they get the herd to Sedalia, where it can be sold. Some cowhands encounter the drovers and say there is a rumor that the rail line has now reach Abilene, Kansas. If true, it will make for a lucrative market to sell the cattle in order to feed the booming population. It's also a shorter and safer journey for the drovers to make. However, Dunson will have not risk changing direction on the basis of an unfounded rumor. Ultimately, some men choose to leave the drive. However, when a couple of drovers also steal some precious food before absconding, Dunson has them hunted down and captured. Enraged, he tells them he will lynch them. When Matt can't convince him that he is going to far, a major rift occurs and Matt informs Dunson that he is taking control of the herd and gambling on taking the cattle to Abilene. Dunson refuses to go along and promises to hunt Matt down and personally kill him, despite the fact that Matt intends to turn any proceeds over to his adoptive father.
The story continues to follow events in the film, albeit in truncated fashion since the film runs 96 minutes compared to the 133 minutes of the original version. Matt and flashy gunslinger Cherry Valance (Gregory Harrison) encounter a wagon train besieged by Indians. They ultimately rescue the survivors which include Kate Millay (Laura Johnson), a Civil War widow with a young son. Both Matt and Cherry are smitten by her, which introduces an element of sexual tension as both men become antagonistic towards each other in increasingly dangerous ways. Ultimately, Matt gets the herd to Abilene and finds that the rumors were true. The town is booming and anxious to buy the herd for top dollar. Matt's joy is short-lived, however, as Dunson arrives with his personal posse of hired gunmen- and he's intent on keeping his vow to kill Matt.
There is nothing in the TV version of "Red River" that improves on Hawks's original in any meaningful way. However, it does offer some fine performances. It's interesting to see Arness, who gives a commanding performance, finally play a character whose judgment is flawed and whose actions border on the reckless. He has good chemistry with Bruce Boxleitner, possibly because the two were old friends who had co-starred in Arness's post-"Gunsmoke" TV series "How the West Was Won". Gregory Harrison has a meatier role as Cherry Valance than John Ireland did in the original version, possibly because Harrison was an executive producer on this production. He provides ample doses of both charm and reckless behavior. There are plenty of familiar Western stars who make brief appearances including Ty Hardin, Robert Horton, L.Q. Jones and Guy Madison, in his final screen appearance. The script has been updated with some new characters added, most notably Stan Shaw, very good as Jack Byrd, an ex-slave who must endure bigotry before winning the respect of the drovers with his skills. The film is crisply directed by Richard Michaels, who keeps the balance between action and personal dramas well-balanced.
I viewed the film with the expectation that it would be simply a pale imitation of the 1948 classic. However, while the original reigns supreme, I'm happy to say that if the TV version is viewed as a stand-alone production, it's actually surprisingly good.
I can find no record of this film having been released on home video aside from an early VHS version, so the Screenpix option is the best way to view it.
As a monster-movie loving kid growing up in the shadow of
Manhattan, most of my Saturday night plans in the late 1960s and early 1970s
were solidly set.That night was
reserved for watching old horror and sci-fi flicks on New York City’s Chiller (WPIX-TV) or Creature Features (WNEW-TV).I don’t recall the latter program surviving
past 1980 – and even then there had been an interruption of some six years in
the scheduling of Creature Features.Though the program would return to the
airwaves in 1979, the 8 PM broadcasts were now a thing of the past.The revived telecasts had moved to midnight
and well into the early hours of Sunday morning.It hardly mattered, really.I no longer watched Creature Features with the same fervor of 1969 through 1973.I was age nineteen in 1979 and found other
(if not necessarily better) things to
do on Saturday nights.
This absence from Creature
Features caused me to miss out on a number of obscure, aging films
broadcast 1979-1980.Among this mix of occasional
cinematic gems with near-misses was a mostly forgotten mystery programmer of
1944 titled The Man in Half Moon Street.I was particularly sorry to have missed this
one: if my research is correct, I believe the film was broadcast only once – just
shy of 2 A.M. - on March 29, 1980.Though one New York area newspaper listing dismissed the film as little
more than a “Moody and marginally interesting tale of eternal youth through
murder,” such lukewarm praise actually piqued my interest.This seemed my kind of movie.And for
some forty-three years I’ve lamented having missing that broadcast.
It has been a tough film to get ahold of: though I’m
guessing gray-market copies could have been found at conventions or through those
“specialty” dealers of vintage VHS tapes from the ‘80s onward.But as far as I can tell (and, please, feel
free correct me if you know better), The
Man in Half Moon Street has never been officially
available on any home video format: not Laser Disc, VHS, DVD or Blu Ray.Well, that is until now, as we near the
eightieth year of the film’s original cinematic release.We have Australia’s Imprint Films to thank
for finally issuing this superlative, region-free coded Blu-ray release.
As in the case of many Hollywood pictures of the day, The Man in Half Moon Street was not an
original invention of the filmmakers: the scenario was actually based on the British
stage drama of playwright Barré Lyndon.Lyndon’s play, published in 1939 by London’s Hamish Hamilton Publishing
House, had first toured Bournemouth, Oxford, Manchester and Brighton on a
two-week testing-sortie in February of ’39.The play would formally open at the New Theatre in London’s West End on
22 March 1939.
Lyndon’s main antagonist in the stage drama, chemist John Thackeray (Leslie Banks), is a ninety-year
old man.One wouldn’t notice the dotage
as Thackeray appears decades younger.This
is due to the chemist having discovered that by combining radium and periodically replacing his aging
super-renal glands with fresh specimens he can retain both youth and
immortality.Of course the collection of
fresh glands requires innocent others to lose their lives to Thackeray’s ghoulish
harvesting.
Over a fifty-year period eight bank cashiers – those with
access to large sums of money - have fallen prey to Thackeray’s criminal doings.Dissolving their bodies in acid baths, the
chemist then steals the cash reserves his victims had been minding in their
bank-telling guardianship.Thackeray
requires the large sums so he can pay a confidant: in this case an
ethically-challenged surgeon friend, to perform the necessary life-sustaining
gland grafts.But Scotland Yard takes up
the case just as the chemist readies to take the life of a targeted ninth
victim for his evil ends.
Interestingly, playwright Lyndon would go on to write
screenplays for Hollywood studios by the mid-1940s, including such moody
mystery-noirs as John Brahm’s The Lodger
(1944) and Hangover Square
(1945).But in late January of 1940, it
was announced that Don Hartman, a dependable scenarist for Paramount, was
scheduled to begin work on adapting Lyndon’s stage play to the big screen.Hartman was, at present, in New York, trying
to finish up his co-write (with Clifford Goldsmith) of The Further Adventures of Henry Aldrich.
That May of 1940, Paramount optimistically announced
there would be no production delays on their twenty-five million dollar film
schedule budget for the upcoming year.This declaration was made “despite war conditions in Europe which
continue to threaten returns” in both national and international film markets.One of the films on the Paramount schedule
was The Man inHalf Moon Street. Early reports suggested that Basil Rathbone was
to take on the leading role. The actor was available to assume the role of
Thackeray as he had only recently completed work on Paramount’s A Date with Destiny (soon retitled The Mad Doctor).
Rathbone had played the villainous role in The Mad Doctor which, despite the intriguing
title, was not a horror film, but a mystery crime-drama.The Los
Angeles Citizen-News would report in June of 1940 that while Half Moon too was not of “bogeyman
classification,” it on the “fantastic side” with its lurid sci-fi angle.In any case, the film project fell
temporarily to the wayside, first due to scripting issues and afterward to the
cranking out of patriotic films necessitated by America’s entry into WWII
following the attack at Pearl Harbor.
But by early winter of 1943, the long dormant Half Moon project was showing signs of
revival.On March 2, 1943 it was
announced in the Hollywood trades that Lester Fuller, recently arrived in Los
Angeles from New York, had been offered the director’s chair for The Man in Half Moon Street.In spring of 1943, Albert Dekker, a Hollywood
“heavie” who recently scared audiences as Universal’s Dr. Cyclops (1940), was announced to assume the leading role.
But on June 15, 1943, Variety
reported that Fuller was out of the Half
Moon project. Ralph Murphy was now chosen to direct.Technically, the pair’s previously assigned directorial
spots were merely traded-off.Murphy had
initially been chosen to helm Paramount’s production of Marseilles, but former stage director Fuller was now tasked to
assume responsibility on that particular film. Murphy was to move over to
direct Fuller’s Half Moon project.
Murphy’s first assignment was a formidable one:he was “to order a complete rewrite job on
the script.”There was also a report
that such rewriting would likely require a recasting of principal characters.Though Swedish film star Nils Asther had been
the latest actor announced to assume the film’s leading role, his participation
in the project was now suggested as being “off” - for the time being, at
least.The film’s producer Walter
MacEwan wanted to weigh casting options “until further developments” in the
scripting of Half Moon were resolved.
The re-writing of Half
Moon would eventually fall to scenarists Charles Kenyon and Garrett Fort. The final screenplay credit would ultimately go
to Kenyon alone who, like Fort, was a veteran of old Hollywood: their work in
the industry could be traced to silent cinema’s earliest days.Fort’s resume for this sort of film was
particularly impressive: he had written or co-written such totemic pre-code
Golden Age Horrors for Universal as Dracula
(1931), Frankenstein (1931) and Dracula’s Daughter (1936). But Fort’s credit on Half Moon only noted his role in adapting Lyndon’s play for the
screen.
The final screenplay drafted would, peculiarly, expunge
most of the ghoulish and murderous elements of Lyndon’s stage play – perhaps
America’s real-life wartime experiences were horrific enough.There are no murders of bankers.The Thackeray character (renamed Dr. Julian
Karell in the film) appears to be already a man of means, an accomplished
portrait artist and scientist.He
attends black-tie, high society, posh parties and conducts his experiments at
an upscale London row house.The film curiously
offers no scenes of on (or off) screen physical violence.
There are no gruesome acid baths in which the bodies of
victims are disposed. The film’s lone “action” scene captures a moment when
Karell “rescues” a despondent medical student (Morton Lowry) from a watery suicide
attempt near the Thames Embankment.Most
scenes of this dialogue-heavy script are set in parlors and sitting rooms –
which, to be honest, really proves a drag on the film’s ninety-two minute running
time.One begins to welcome even the
briefest scenes when Karell ventures out into the shrouded night and pea-soup fog
of the London Streets.Not that much
happens during these interludes, but such moments provide a measure of
moodiness to this otherwise slowly paced non-mystery.
Truth be told, The
Man in Half Moon Street is no detective nor mystery film; we know almost
from the beginning what’s going on.We
learn the handsome and youthful Karell is actually more than one hundred years
old in age.But through a century of
experimentation – and with the assistance of the aging Dr. Kurt Van Bruecken, the
“world’s greatest living surgeon and necrologist” (Reinhold Schünzel), Karell has
managed to stay young through his drinking of a luminous serum and periodically
undergoing fresh glandular transplants at ten year intervals.
There are problems ahead.Following a stroke, the shaky hands of the elderly Van Bruecken are no longer
trustworthy to perform the necessary surgeries.Besides, Van Bruecken has undergone a change of heart: he fears that
Karell is no longer working in the interest of science and humanity in staving off
the aging process.He fears (rightfully)
Karell is now consumed only by his burning desire for the lovely Eve Brandon (Helen
Walker) and selfish self-interest in maintaining a “fraudulent youth.”
“No man can break the law of God,” Van Bruecken cautions,
but Karell is confident if anyone can do it, he can.Even if that means farming the glands of the
suicidal medical student he’s imprisoned upstairs.The other more pressing problem facing Karell
is that his mysterious activities have finally brought him to the attention of
an ethical surgeon (Paul Cavanagh), a cabal of fine art appraisers and Scotland
Yard.
With Paramount now holding what they believed an
acceptable – and mostly non-horrific - script in place, the casting of the film
proceeded in earnest. In May of 1943 it was suggested that young actress Susan
Hayward would play a “featured role” in Half
Moon, though the report cautioned Paramount was still “having a time of it
procuring someone to play the sinister male lead.”The earlier front-running names of Rathbone
and Dekker were both out, and rumors of Alan Ladd’s casting were squelched when
the actor chose instead to sign up for military service.
That same month producer MacEwan confirmed Nils Asther would in fact play the role of Dr.
Julian Karell as earlier rumored.The
trades suggested that it was Asther who, in fact, first suggested that Paramount
pick up the rights to Lyndon’s play and cast him in the lead role.There was some mild press controversy regarding
Asther’s casting.Some Hollywood gossips
dismissed the actor as “Yesterday’s Star” (born in 1897, Asther had appeared in
silent films with Greta Garbo).Though
his character was scripted as someone thirty-five years of age, Asther was in
reality 46 years old at the time of production.Still, there was an acknowledgement that the dashingly tall, slender, handsome
(and rumored bi-sexual) actor “still has a big following.”
Though the actor was to star opposite the sultry Hayward,
the role of Karell’s paramour Eve Brandon was ultimately given to Helen Walker.There would be some delay before she could
join the production: the actress, currently on a wartime U.S.O. tour, was expected
to report to the set near September’s end.Truthfully, Walker doesn’t have a lot to do in the film.She certainly photographs well as Karell’s
doting and perhaps too protective and
morally-blind girlfriend.Even though Karell’s
work is secretive – so much so that it causes him to disappear for weeks or
months at a time – Eve chooses to accept her lover’s “general mysteriousness”
as a byproduct of his genius.I
personally found Brandon less likable and sympathetic as the film progresses.
When it’s finally revealed to her that Karell’s experimentations have brought
harm to innocents, she’s so in love with him she dismisses his guilt, choosing
instead to reflexively defend the “grandeur” of his ambitions.
If the main characters in this picture aren’t always
likable, there’s still a lot to admire about the film.Miklos Rozsa’s moody musical score is
certainly worthy of praise.Henry
Sharp’s fog-bound “exterior” photography is similarly moody, but unfortunately not
up on the screen much.In the final
minutes of the film when Karell dramatically reverts to his actual age,
long-time make-up man Wally Westmore – of Hollywood’s make-up family dynasty –
does his best on the effects.But the
camera cheats the audience of a full on-screen transformation ala Westmore’s
make-up on Rouben Mamoulian’s Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde (1931) – which remains the “gold standard” of Golden Age
horror transformations.Ralph Murphy’s
direction is competent but workmanlike in execution.He creates very little visual tension until
the film’s final scenes and, by then, it’s simply too late.Following the completion of Half Moon, Murphy was planning to move
back to New York City to direct the Broadway stage production of Sleep It Off.
Of course World War II was still on-going, interrupting,
ruining and/or ending the lives of countless innocents globally.In such an atmosphere Hollywood was not immune
to war-time production delays and release date restrictions.Paramount alone had accumulated an
unprecedented backlog of thirty-one completed films awaiting release in early
summer of 1944.There was some confidence
that the tide was turning in favor of the Allies, studios cooperating in the
war effort by rolling out whatever patriotic war films they were sitting on.There was a consensus it was time to empty
the vault of such films.It was believed
that movie audiences would weary of war films following the cessation of
fighting overseas.
There was, at long last, a belated screening of The Man in Half Moon Street held at a
Hollywood tradeshow on October 16, 1944.Variety thought the script was
a “compact and interesting,” the Kenyon/Fort scenario displaying a “few new
twists from the formularized style of long-life mystery tales to keep interest
at consistent level.” But the reviewer acknowledged, not unreasonably, that the
film would best serve as “strong support” to a superior attraction.Other critics likewise suggested Half Moon was too weak to see
top-billing on a double-attraction.
Indeed, The Man in
Half Moon Street (already in U.S. regional release as early as December
1944 although the film’s copyright is listed as 1945 on the sleeve of the snap
case) was featured as the undercard of a double-bill. (On his commentary, Tim
Lucas reveals the film actually had its world-wide premiere in Australia in
early November of 1944).On its U.S.
run, the film was usually topped by director Fritz Lang’s cinematic take of
novelist Graham Greene’s Nazi espionage tale Ministry of Fear.This double
feature actually did reasonably well, the trades citing solid - if not necessarily
boffo - returns as the package was rolled out across U.S. markets and into 1945.Newspaper columnists tended to give the Lang
film the lion’s share of its critical attention, though both films were generally
branded as little more than decent programmers of primary interest only to devotees
of suspense and mystery films.
The
film classic that put director Bernardo Bertolucci on the map outside of Italy
was 1970’s The Conformist, hailed by the arthouse cinema circuit as one
of the masterpieces of international filmmaking in that decade.
An
Italian-French-West German co-production, The Conformist was filmed in
Italy and France and stars celebrated French actor Jean-Louis Trintignant, who
made several pictures in Italy along with the many in his native country.
Although Trintignant could speak Italian, he was almost always dubbed by an
Italian actor in these pictures; in fact, all Italian movies of the era were
usually dubbed in post-production. Luckily, the dubbing here is quite good
because at least Trintignant is mouthing the correct Italian language dialogue.
This
is a gorgeous-looking movie, often cited as a groundbreaker in cinematography.
Vittorio Storaro made his name with the picture, just as Bertolucci did.
Francis Ford Coppola allegedly used The Conformist as the “look” he was
going for when he made The Godfather. Storaro is one of only three
people who have won the Best Cinematography Oscar three times (he won for Apocalypse
Now, Reds, and The Last Emperor, another Bertolucci title).
This
is reason alone to view the film today. The content is perhaps a little too
attached to the time period in which it was made, in that the editing and
narrative flow of the movie is somewhat experimental with its use of flashbacks
and time-jumping that filmmakers liked to play with in those days. As a result,
the first half of The Conformist takes some getting used to (and is, at
first, difficult to follow), but the second half is riveting. The subject
matter is also extremely political in that it is a psychological character
study of a man torn between the desire to fit in and to do what is right within
the context of the socio-political climate of his time.
It’s
1930s Italy, during Mussolini’s reign. Trintignant is Marcello, a wannabe
social climber… but to do so, he must during those years be a member of
Mussolini’s party and, well, a fascist. Most of his friends are members of the
party, as is his closest pal, a blind man named Italo (José
Quaglio). In 1938, Marcello accepts the assignment to assassinate his former
college professor, Luca Quadri (Enzo Tarascio), a staunch anti-fascist living
in Paris with his wife, Anna (Dominique Sanda). Marcello marries Giulia
(Stefania Sandrelli), a pretty girl who is naïve and rather common, in an
attempt to be “more like ‘normal’ people.” Marcello disguises his true purpose
on the trip to Paris by bringing along Giulia, and he is shadowed by his
handler, Agent Manganiello (Gastone Moschin, recognizable to Western audiences
as Don Fanucci from The Godfather Part II). Once in Paris, Marcello and
Giulia enjoy social gatherings with the Quadris, and there is some eyebrow-raising
hanky-panky that occurs between Anna and not only Marcello, but also Giulia!
(The seductive dance between Anna and Giulia at a party is a highlight of the
movie, and stills from the sequence dominated its marketing.) In the meantime,
Marcello is struggling with his assignment. Thrown into his head torment is the
trauma he suffered back in 1917, when as a boy he was molested by a young man.
There
is a lot going on within the characters’ psyches in The Conformist. It
is a rich, deeply layered motion picture that asks many questions and provides
few answers. Some sequences were shocking in 1970 and are still disturbing
today. This is potent cinema, providing the early evidence that Bertolucci was
a formidable artist who would push the envelope.
The
RARO Cinema Art Blu-ray edition (from RAROvideousa.com, distributed by Kino
Lorber) is a 2-disk set. The first disk contains a new stunning 4K restoration
from the original camera negative. This is accompanied by an audio commentary
by film critic Bilge Ebiri. The second disk is the 2011 HD restoration that
both Bertolucci and Storaro worked on. The inclusion of the second disk feature
is curious since the new restoration is far, far superior and should be the
go-to viewing. It appears that the second, older version is simply there for
comparison.
Supplements
spread over the two disks include an interview with Valentina Ricciardelli, the
president of the Bernardo Bertolucci Foundation; an hour-long documentary, “In
the Shade of The Conformist”; and trailers of the film from 1970, 2014,
and 2023.
The
Conformist is
for fans of Bernardo Bertolucci, Vittorio Storaro, Jean-Louis Trintignant,
international cinema, and political films.
I
was introduced into the world of Billy Idol’s music in late 1983 when my
younger sister discovered his music. His signature hits “White Wedding (Part
1)” and “Dancing with Myself” from his self-titled 1982 album emanated from her
room daily and I found his energy to be infectious. At that time, his follow-up
album, the widely popular Rebel Yell, was just released (it’s now forty
years-old!) and it really put him on the map, setting him apart from the group
he burst on to the scene with in 1976: the short-lived Chelsea, and then later,
Generation X. With guitarist Steve Stevens, who has been with him ever since,
and a group of musicians, Billy Idol, whose surname was inspired by one of his
teachers labeling him as an “idle” student, began his Rebel Yell tour
and was Yours Truly’s first foray into the world of rock concerts. Since then,
he has toured the globe and garnered legions of fans the world over.
A
self-professed history buff and environmentalist, Billy teamed with then-New
York Mayor Bill de Blasio in February 2020 just weeks before the COVID-19
shutdown to promote a public awareness Anti-Idling campaign in New York City to
remind drivers that motor vehicles are forbidden to idle for no more than three
minutes, and no more than one minute in a school zone. So, he’s very
pro-environment.
In
April of this year, Billy did something that no artist has ever done before: he
performed a concert at the Hoover Dam in Boulder City, NV, which was filmed for
the new concert film Billy Idol: State Line, playing in theaters this
week. The first 20 minutes of the film reveal that Billy would have been a
history professor had he not been in a band (I for one am glad that he never
got his teaching license) and gives a brief history of the construction of the
modern engineering marvel. Amazingly, this is Billy’s maiden voyage to Hoover
Dam and you can tell that he is stunned by it.
He
plays an acoustic set at the foot of the dam with Steve Stevens of “Eyes
Without a Face” and “Rebel Yell” before taking the stage or, in this case the
Hoover Dam helipad, to belt out “Rock the Cradle of Love,” “Dancing with
Myself,” “Flesh for Fantasy,” “Eyes Without a Face,” his trademark cover of
“Mony Mony,” “Blue Highway,” “Rebel Yell,” “Hot in the City,” and “White
Wedding (Part 1).”
Will
this venue become a mecca for future bands?
This
is a must-see on the big screen for Billy Idol fans.
See
the press release below for more information:
BILLY IDOL: STATE LINE MAKES U.S. THEATRICAL DEBUT NOVEMBER
15
FILM
DOCUMENTS THE FIRST CONCERT EVER PERFORMED AT HOOVER DAM
IDOL
CONTINUES WATER CONSERVATION ACTIVISM WITH PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENTS IN
CONJUNCTION WITH U.S. DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR
Billy Idol: State Line, a Vertigo Live concert film documenting the rock legend’s
April show at the famed Hoover Dam - the first ever concert performed at
the location - is set to make its U.S. theatrical debut on November 15, 2023.
The movie highlights the history and significance of Hoover Dam and includes
performances from two unique sets of Billy Idol’s iconic hits: a full band
concert at sunset with special guests that electrified and illuminated the
surrounding Black Canyon and an acoustic duo set on the roof of the powerhouse
at the foot of Hoover Dam straddling the Colorado River, directly on the
Nevada/Arizona state line. Tickets and additional info on film screenings can
be found at billyidolstateline.com, with additional screenings to be
added shortly.
For
both sets, Idol is joined by his collaborator and lead guitarist of over forty
years, Steve Stevens. Performed in front of only 250 fans, the full band
set features special guests Alison Mosshart (The Kills, The Dead
Weather), Steve Jones (Sex Pistols, Generation Sex) and Tony Kanal
(No Doubt). See the film’s trailer here.
“Our
show at Hoover Dam was a monumental and surreal career highlight,” notes Idol.
“I’m excited to get State Line out into the world. With this film we set out to
highlight the continued importance of one of the most inspiring infrastructural
achievements of the 20th Century, while also bringing the power of rock n roll
to a stunning, magical location. I think we more than succeeded on both
accounts.”
Idol’s
first-person experience of the Colorado River Basin drought conditions while
shooting the film at Hoover Dam inspired his ongoing efforts to promote the
importance of water conservation, including appearing in a series of public
service announcements being released by the U.S. Department of the Interior.
See Idol’s most recent P.S.A. with Secretary of the Interior Deb Haalandhere.
Of
his activism relating to water conservation, Idol adds, “The drought conditions
prevalent in the American West are severe and impossible to ignore. It takes
all of us conserving water in whatever ways we can to preserve the future of
our natural resources for our grandkids and beyond. I’m proud to help amplify
this issue in whatever way I can.”
Billy
Idol: State Line is
produced by Lastman Media for Vertigo Live in collaboration with the Waldorf Astoria Las Vegas and is distributed theatrically
throughout North America by Unbranded Events and U.K./rest of world via
Kaleidoscope Entertainment.
Idol
will also perform in Las Vegas the same day as Super Bowl LVIII in
February; see below for a complete list of tour dates.
For
46 years, Billy Idol has been one of the definitive faces and voices of
rock’n’roll. Between 1977 and 1981 Idol released three albums with Generation X
as their camera-ready frontman. In 1982 he embarked on a
transatlantic/trans-genre solo career that integrated the bold and simple lines
of punk and rock’n’roll decadence. Touring consistently around the world for
the last ten years and showing no signs of slowing down, Idol released both The
Roadside EP in 2021 and The Cage EP in 2022 on Dark Horse Records,
earning praise from fans and critics alike. In January, Idol cemented his name
among Hollywood legends with the first Walk of Fame Star of 2023.
Idol
recently wrapped the first-ever Generation Sex tour in the U.K. and E.U. The
punk supergroup is comprised of Idol and Tony James from Generation X, and
Steve Jones and Paul Cook from Sex Pistols. November 10 marks the 40th
Anniversary of Idol’s seminal record Rebel Yell, with an expanded
edition of the album due in early 2024.
I
hated William Friedkin’s 1985 police thriller, To Live and Die in L.A., when I first saw it. The mixture of
Eighties-style pop music by Wang Chung and the disreputable characters were, I
felt, meretricious and off-putting. Even the car chase seemed lackluster. I
also hated Dario Argento’s Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1972), James
Toback’s Fingers (1978) and David Lynch’s Blue Velvet (1986) during
my first viewings. Revisiting these titles soon afterwards made me realize that
I failed to fully appreciate or understand them. My ignorance of film was evident!
To
Live and Die in L.A., which
opened nationwide on Friday, November 1, 1985 to lukewarm notices and
underwhelming box office despite being championed by a four-star review by Roger
Ebert, is a highly stylized, dark, and uncompromising crime thriller that
boasts a then-unknown cast with a story and a pace that feels more suited to
the 1970s. It also contains what I consider to be the greatest car chase ever
filmed and edited for a major motion picture, which took no less than five
weeks to plan and shoot.
Having
seen Mr. Friedkin’s brilliant Oscar-winning East Coast police thriller The French Connection (1971), this West
Coast-based yarn centers on a Secret Service agent, Richard Chance (William
Petersen), whose best friend and partner Jim Hart (Michael Greene) has been
murdered in cold blood by artist/currency counterfeiter Rick Masters (Willem
Dafoe) just days prior to his retirement. This plot device occurred before it
became a familiar film trope, and this
is easily one of the best films of the 1980s. Chance has one goal: to put
Masters away for life with no regard for how he has to do it. Truthfully, he
would prefer to kill him. This causes many issues for his new partner John
Vukovich (John Pankow) whose familial lineage of law enforcement officers and his
“by the book” methodology conflicts with Chance’s no-bullshit headstrong attitude.
Vukovich’s unwillingness to go outside the boundaries of acceptability is
tested when: Chance surreptitiously removes crucial evidence from a crime scene
in order to get to Masters; Chance, without Vukovich’s knowledge, springs a
prisoner friend (John Turturro) of Masters to get him to testify; and most
notably forces Vukovich to go along with a plan to obtain cash needed to get
closer to Masters while nearly dying in what is arguably cinema’s most exciting
getaway car chase sequence. What makes the chase work so well is that it’s
physical, it’s possible (though highly improbable), and it’s not done in a Fast and the Furious, over-the-top sort
of way. Nor is it perfunctory as it comes as a result of an important plot
point, nearly besting the director’s own French Connection subway/car
chase with a headlong ride straight up the 710 Long Beach Freeway while driving
in the wrong direction against traffic.
Chance
also beds a willing parolee (Darlanne Fluegel) who gives him information on
current convicts in return for money to provide for herself and her son
Christopher. Like the inexorable Popeye Doyle in The French Connection who will stop at nothing to put drug dealers
and users away, Chance, like his surname, will stop at nothing to capture and
punish Masters. The difference between the two films is that the former paints
Brooklyn and New York City as gritty and almost despairing cities whereas the
latter bathes the frame in a Los Angeles that we have not seen before or since.
While also gritty, grimy and dark, this is a Lotus Land that is also highly
glossy and enticing, with beautiful people who are about as real as the
counterfeit bills that Masters manufactures. The overall theme and central
conceit of To Live and Die in L.A. is
fraudulence. People use each other for their own personal gains. Masters is an
artist but hates what he paints and burns his work in frustration. Since he
cannot find joy or satisfaction in his own originality, he resorts to copying
others, in this case $20, $50, and $100 bills in a procedure that is
painstaking, difficult, and now archaic.
Like
The French Connection, To Live and Die in LA is also based on a
book of the same name, this one a novel written by former Secret Service Agent
Gerald Petievich. What makes the film remarkable is the opening sequence which
features a martyr who shouts “Allahu Akbar” just before blowing himself up on
the roof of a hotel where then-President Reagan is giving a speech. This scene
made little sense to me upon my maiden viewing but is eerily prescient of the religious
extremism that has made its way to America’s shores.
The
performances are excellent all around. William Petersen, whose film debut was
as a bar bouncer in Michael Mann’s Thief (1981),
is terrific as Chance and plays him as a daredevil whose cowboy nature seals
his fate and makes him a dangerous person to be around. This is established in
an early sequence wherein Chance bungee jumps off the Vincent Thomas Bridge in
San Pedro, CA. In addition to the martyr sequence, this could also be one of
the earliest instances of this now highly popular activity’s depiction in a
film. John Pankow is also quite good as Chance’s conflicted partner. The stand-out
is Willem Dafoe as Masters, fresh from Walter Hill’s 1984 outing Streets of
Fire. His icy expressions and demeanor can change on a moment’s notice
without warning. Darlanne Fluegel, who heartbreakingly left us far too soon
following an early onset of Alzheimer’s Disease, is mysterious as Chance’s muse.
I first saw her in Battle Beyond the
Stars (1980). Debra Feuer is striking as Masters’ girlfriend and
confidante. The late Dean Stockwell is great as Masters’ lawyer - you can
almost see him prepping himself for the role of Ben in David Lynch’s aforementioned
and masterful Blue Velvet the
following year. Steve James is an actor I always liked ever since I first saw
him in the “Night Vigil” episode of T.J.
Hooker in 1984. He started in the industry as a stunt man in films as
diverse as The Wiz (1978), The Wanderers (1979), The
Warriors (1979), Dressed to Kill
(1980), and He Knows You’re Alone (1980)
prior to onscreen acting. Here he plays Jeff, one of Masters’ clients and his
performance, though small, shines. He also appeared in the William Friedkin
TV-movie C.A.T. Squad in 1986, which
was also written by Mr. Petievich. His premature death in 1993 from what is
rumored to be the medical treatment that he received after a cancer diagnosis
is a tremendous loss to the entertainment industry.
To Live and Die in L.A. has been released on home video many
times in the United States and is now available on 4K UHD Blu-ray courtesy of
Kino Lorber. The extras, which are ported over from the 2016 SHOUT! Factory
Special Edition Blu-ray and the 2003 MGM/UA Home Video DVD, are all included
and are as follows:
Disc
One:
-
4K UHD Blu-ray remastered from the original camera negative.
-
Audio Commentary by Director William Friedkin from 2003 – this runs the full length
of the film and is the only bonus to be included on both the 4K UHD disc and
the standard 1080p Blu-ray.
Disc
Two:
-
Standard 1080p Blu-ray down-converted from a 4K remastering from the original
camera negative.
-
Audio Commentary by Director William Friedkin from 2003.
-
Taking a Chance: Interview with Actor William Petersen (20:42, in high definition,
from 2016) – Gary Sinise read for the role of Richard Chance with the casting
director, but the role instead went to William Petersen after he read for it at
William Friedkin’s New York City apartment. A second reading with actor friend
John Pankow solidified their roles.
-
Renaissance Woman in L.A. Interview with Actress Debra Feuer (14:56, in
high definition, from 2016) – Ms. Feuer reminisces about how wonderful the
experience was for her. Despite the sexual angle of the film which made her
uncomfortable, the cast and crew made her receptive and accepted on the set. Her
role is small but important and I would love to see her in more films.
-
Doctor for a Day: Interview with Actor Dwier Brown (08:53, in high
definition, from 2016) – Dwier Brown talks about his excitement over reading
for the film. He would later go on to appear as Phil Sterling in Mr. Friedkin’s
1989 druid-horror film The Guardian, and humorously recalls how the
director forgot that he was in To Live and Die in L.A.
-
So in Phase - Scoring To Live and Die in L.A. Interview with Composers Wang
Chung (12:44, in high
definition, from 2016) – It’s amazing that Mr. Friedkin heard Wang Chung’s 1984
album Points on the Curve, in particular the song “Wait,” and explained
that that was the vibe that he wanted from the album for the film score. While
there is a soundtrack album available for this film, it’s incomplete, and I
hope that one day a full soundtrack album, remastered from the original master
tracks, will be issued. Wang Chung recalls some interesting anecdotes in this
onscreen interview.
-
Wrong Way - The Stunts of To Live and Die in L.A. Interview with Stunt
Coordinator Buddy Joe Hooker (35:39, in high definition, from 2016) – The
famous stunt man discusses the intricacies and challenges of filming one of the
most dangerous car chases ever mounted for a film. The director was all about disorienting
the audience, and that notion comes into play here in how the chase was staged
and ultimately executed.
-
Counterfeit World - The Making of To Live and Die in L.A. Documentary
(29:52, in standard definition, from 2003) – This is a fun look behind the
scenes with mini interviews from many of the cast and crew involved, with
discussions regarding the characterizations as portrayed by the actors and
actresses to filming the famed car chase.
-
Deleted Scene and Alternate Ending with Introductions (13:07) – this is
the ridiculous ending that the director shot to please the studio executives
and thankfully was never used. You won’t believe it when you see it.
Actor Mark Goddard has passed away at age 87. Goddard was primarily known for his role as the hunky Major Don West in Irwin Allen's cult classic TV series "Lost in Space", which ran between 1965-1968. Goddard had a long list of credits in television series and motion pictures but found himself typecast with the character he played in the show. He eventually left show business and became a highly respected special education teacher, although he was a popular figure at fan conventions throughout the decades. For more, click here.
Don Knotts
came to fame with his trademark comedy style of portraying a meek, excessively
nervous character. He was Woody Allen before Woody Allen was Woody Allen.
Knotts honed his skills on Steve Allen's show in the 1950s, with his "man
on the street" Nervous Nellie routine sending audiences into fits of
laughter. He co-starred with fellow up-and-comer Andy Griffith in the hit
Broadway production of "No Time for Sergeants" and the subsequent
film version. When Griffith landed his own TV series in 1960 in which he played
the sheriff of fictional small town Mayberry, Knotts imposed upon him to write
a small, occasional part he could play as Barney Fife, Griffith's inept but
loyal sheriff. Griffith complied and the role made Knotts an icon of American
comedy, allowing him to win an astonishing five Emmys for playing the same
character. Five years into the series, Knotts was offered a multi-feature deal
by Lew Wasserman, the reigning mogul of Universal Pictures. Knotts took the
bait and enjoyed creative control over the films to a certain degree. He could
pretty much do what he wanted as long has he played the same nervous schlep audiences wanted to
see. The films had to be low-budget, shot quickly and enjoy modest profits from
rural audiences where Knotts' popularity skewed the highest. His first feature
film was The Ghost and Mr.
Chicken, released in 1966 and written by the same writing team from
the "The Andy Griffith Show". (Griffith actually co-wrote the script
but declined taking a writing credit.) The film astonished the industry,
rolling up big grosses in small markets where it proved to have remarkable
staying power. Similarly, his next film, The
Reluctant Astronaut also proved to be a big hit, as was his
1969 western spoof The
Shakiest Gun in the West. Within a few years, however,
changing audience tastes had rendered Knotts' brand of innocent, gentle humor
somewhat moot. By the late 1960s audiences were getting their laughs from the
new film freedoms. It was hard to find the antics of a middle-aged virgin much
fun when you could see Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice cavorting in the same
bed. Still, Knotts soldiered on, providing fare for the drive-in markets that
still wanted his films. In 1969 he made The
Love God?, a very funny and underrated film that tried to be more
contemporary by casting Knotts as an innocent ninny who is manipulated into
fronting what he thinks is a magazine for bird watchers but, in reality, is a
cover for a pornography empire. Knotts' traditional audience balked at the
relatively tame sex jokes and for his final film for Universal, How to Frame a Figg, he
reverted back to his old formula.
Released in
1971, Figg casts
Don Knotts as the titular character, Hollis Figg, a nondescript wimp who toils
as an overlooked accountant in a basement of city hall. The film is set in a
Mayberry-like small town environment but any other similarity ends there. In
Mayberry, only the visiting city slickers were ever corrupt. The citizenry may
have been comprised of goofballs and eccentrics, but they were all scrupulously
honest. In Figg's world, however, the top government officials are all con-men
and crooks. They are ruled by the town's beloved paternal father figure, Old
Charley Spaulding (Parker Fennelly), a decrepit character who hands out pennies
to everyone he encounters, with the heart-warming greeting "A shiny penny
for your future!" In fact, Old Charley has plenty of those pennies
stashed away. He and his hand-picked fellow crooks, including the mayor and
police chief, have been systemically ripping off the state by grossly inflating
the costs of local building projects and secretly pocketing the overages.
Concerned that the accountants might get wind of their activities, they
summarily fire them all except for Figg, who is deemed to be too naive to ever
catch on. They justify the firings by saying it's fiscally prudent and replace
the accountants with a gigantic computer that is supposed to be even more
efficient. Through a quirk of fate, Figg and his equally naive friend, Prentiss
(Frank Welker), the janitor for city hall, discover exactly what is going on.
Figg dutifully reports his findings to the mayor (Edward Andrews), who
convinces him to keep it secret while he launches his own investigation. Old
Charley, the mayor and their cohorts decide to make Figg the fall guy for the
corrupt practices. They give him a big promotion, a new red convertible and
even hire a private secretary for him. She's Glorianna (Yvonne Craig), a leggy
femme fatale who wears mini skirts and oozes sex. When her attempts to seduce
Figg leave him paralyzed with fear because of his allegiance to his new
girlfriend, the equally virginal waitress Ema Letha (Elaine Joyce), Glorianna
gets Figg drunk, takes some embarrassing photos of him and then proceeds to have
him sign a stream of incriminating documents that he has not bothered to read.
Before long, Figg is blamed for all the missing funds and faces a jail
sentence- unless he and the dim-witted Prentiss can figure out how to use the
computer to thwart the real crooks.
Although I have a weak spot for Italian westerns of the 1960s and 1970s, most can be appropriately evaluated by paraphrasing Longfellow: "When they were good, they were very, very good, and when they were bad, they were horrid." "Blindman" is a curiosity from 1971 that I previously panned after viewing an allegedly "remastered" DVD edition that looked barely better than a VHS transfer. The film fits rather comfortably into the latter part of Longfellow's famous nursery rhyme. Although the movie has a devoted fan base, when I first reviewed it I call it "a pretty horrid experience and inexcusably amateurish in execution, given the well-seasoned people involved". The good news is that Abkco Films has released a truly remastered DVD version that considerably improves one's perception of the film. As the title implies, it's about...well, a blind man. He's played by Tony Anthony, who did rather well for himself as a sort of Clint Eastwood Lite character known as The Stranger in a series of Euro Westerns (Any similarity to Eastwood's Man With No Name must have been purely coincidental). Anthony went on to star in any number of lucrative, low-budget action films, the most notable being "Comin' At Ya!, a 3-D flick that has also built a loyal cult following. His co-star in "Blindman" is Ringo Starr. More about him later. The film was based on a Japanese movie titled "Zatoichi" about a blind samurai hero. As with "The Magnificent Seven", which was based on Kurasawa's "Seven Samurai", the story has been transplanted to the American west. When we first see the Blindman (whose name is never mentioned), he rides into a one-horse town and confronts his former partners. Seems they had a lucrative contract to deliver 50 mail order brides to some horny miners. However, a better offer was made from a Mexican bandito named Domingo (Lloyd Battista), who has exported them South 'O the Border to force them into prostitution. Blindman apparently has a sense of honor in terms of fulfilling the original contract. He manages to kill his former partners and sets off to Mexico to rescue the women, presumably so they can sold into another form of prostitution. At first the premise of this film intrigued me. How, after all, can you logically present a story about a blind gunslinger? The answer is you apparently can't. You could get away with it if the film was a satire, but there is surprisingly little overt humor in "Blindman". Yes, in true Eastwood fashion, the hero sometimes makes some snarky quips before, during and after dispatching his adversaries, but for the most part, the film takes itself far too seriously.
How does the Blindman find his way around? Well, he has his own "wonder horse" who seems more like a companion than a beast of burden. The hoofed hero is always at his disposal and seems to be able to do everything but read a map for him. Speaking of maps, Blindman gets to various destinations by running his finger over maps that engraved in leather...sort of a braille system. Given the fact that he has to navigate the state of Texas, then Mexico, one would think he would require maps the size of rolls of kitchen linoleum, but somehow he gets by with navigational tools that fit neatly into his pocket. When Blindman arrives in Mexico, he has numerous confrontations with the brutal Domingo and his army of thugs. He suffers the ritualistic beatings of any hero in the Italian western genre, but always manages to get the better hand by his deadly use of the rifle that he uses as a walking stick. Somehow the Blindman can use instinct and an uncanny hearing ability to gun down his would-be assassins with uncanny precision, though occasionally he does impose on some allies for advice. He also confronts Candy (Ringo Starr), Domingo's equally sadistic brother, who is keeping a captive woman as his mistress. What follows is a seemingly endless series of chases, confrontations and the obligatory imitation Morricone score, all of it under the pedestrian direction of Ferdinando Baldi, who has a revered reputation with some fans of the genre and does manage to set off some impressive explosions. (Amusingly, the concept of showing the "50" mail order brides must have taxed the limited budget so we only get to see them in small clusters.). There are a couple of sequences that stand out in terms of creativity. One involves the surprise slaughter of a barroom filled with Mexican soldiers. The other has a bit of suspense as the Blindman is served a food bowl that he doesn't realize contains a deadly snake. The finale of the film finds Blindman wrestling with Domingo, who has been blinded by a cigar! (Don't ask...) It's supposed to be a tense confrontation, but the sight of the two blind guys rolling around in the dirt looks like an outtake from a Monty Python sketch. The most intriguing aspect of the film is what led Ringo Starr into appearing in it. He had considerable on-screen charisma that he parlayed into a successful acting career. Here, however, his role is colorless and bland. He doesn't even play the main villain, but rather a supporting character who disappears from the story before the movie even reaches the one-hour mark. Starr supposedly was looking to jump-start his film career and worked with Tony Anthony to develop this production. While he acquits himself credibly, he might have at least given his character some memorable lines or characteristics.
The previously reviewed version of the film pointed out that the packaging had indicated the film had a running time of 105 minutes, which matches with the original timing cited on on the IMDB site. However, the screener we reviewed ran only 83 minutes and it looked like it had been edited with a meat cleaver. The ABCKO version is the actual 105 minute cut and the transfer is excellent, a vast improvement over the muddy mess we had previously reviewed. Seeing "Blindman" again under these conditions has allowed me to reevaluate my opinion of the film. While it certainly never rises to the standards of a Sergio Leone production, the movie's quirky premise and the amusing performance by Tony Anthony made the experience far more enjoyable the second time around.
In this vintage clip from "The Dick Cavett Show", Henry Fonda discusses his rare screen appearance as a villain in Sergio Leone's "Once Upon a Time in the West", a film that was underappreciated in its day but which many now consider to be a masterpiece. Surprisingly, Cavett, who is one of the best-informed and astute interviewers, is unaware of the film's existence.
"A Twist of Sand" is a 1968 production currently streaming on Amazon Prime. You can be forgiven if you are not familiar with the film, as it was one of many made in this era that was not intended to be a blockbuster or win awards. It was made on a modest budget with the expectation of making a modest profit. The plot is the same time-worn scenario that had been seen in countless films: a group of misfits band together on a dangerous quest for gold. Even by 1968, the concept had enough moss on it to make penicillin but there is a reason the concept has repeatedly been recycled: it works. There is always dramatic tension among the participants and this particular tale is no exception.
The film opens with gunrunner Geoffrey Peace (Richard Johnson) and his partner and first mate David Garland (Roy Dotrice) smuggling a large batch of valuable rifles through the straits of Malta. They are intercepted by a British patrol boat and forced to dump the weapons into the sea to avoid arrest and prosecution. The ploy works but they are now destitute with their boat as their only asset. Along comes Harry Riker (Jeremy Kemp), a German fortune hunter who is accompanied by Johann (Peter Vaughan), a hulking, largely mute henchman. Riker spins a tale about having information that might lead them to a cache of priceless diamonds that is buried in an old shipwreck from hundreds of years ago. The shifting of the sands has now placed the vessel somewhere in the middle of the desert off the Skeleton Coast in South West Africa. Peace has an immediate dislike for the men but is desperate enough to agree to the expedition- and they are accompanied by Julie Chambois (Honor Blackman), whose late husband was a prospector who claimed to have unearthed and hidden the diamonds, revealing to her the exact location on the wreck. Adding to the drama is a sub-plot that reveals in flashback that Peace had been commanding a British submarine off the Skeleton Coast during WWII. A German U-Boat was disabled in a firefight and the crew was slaughtered by an errant member of Peace's submarine command who wielded a machine gun to kill all but one man, Johann, who has sworn to somehow take vengeance on the British sub commander. This rather contrived plot point is intended to add tension to the story but we all know that simply by introducing it, Johann will ultimately discover the truth and square off against Peace.
The disparate group of fortune hunters navigate through the treacherous waters off the Skelton Coast and director Don Chaffey manages to ring some momentary tension out of these scenes. I kept waiting for the cliched scenario that inevitably arises in any of these desert adventure films in which a lone attractive woman causes sexual tension among her male companions. However, screenwriter Marvin H. Albert keeps the characters rather disappointingly chaste. There's more lust to be found in an old Tarzan film than there is here. The movie improves when the motley group lands on the African coast and discovers the wreck of the ancient ship they are looking for now firmly settled into the desert sands. These are the movie's best scenes as the men desperately dig inside the wreck, facing death from being buried by sand or struck by a falling timber. The production design by John Stoller is especially impressive. Naturally, this part of a treasure hunter adventure is always when the double-crosses are introduced and this is no exception.
The script never directly divulges what year the story is taking place in, thus the viewer would be forgiven for thinking it was in contemporary times. I wondered how we were to believe that the characters would not have aged at all over a period of about 25 years. However, late in the film there is a reference to the fact that it is six years after the war, which would place the timetable sometime in the early 1950s. The rights to the novel "A Twist of Sand" by Geoffrey Jenkins had originally been obtained by Nunnally Johnson, who intended to write the script for a production starring Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr but for some reason the production never materialized. Instead, the film would eventually be made as this "B" movie production. Director Don Chaffey does a decent job, considering the budget constraints and he has a good cast. Richard Johnson plays against type as a grumpy and humorless protagonist. In real life, Johnson was one of the most humorous and charismatic people this writer has ever known. Jeremy Kemp steals his scenes as his scheming partner. Honor Blackman has very little to do and was obviously cast simply to add a bit of sex appeal.
"A Twist of Sand" is the kind of movie from this era that a I have a soft spot for. These films were competently made and entertaining, if rather forgettable. To my knowledge, the film has never been released on video in the USA, so its presence on Amazon Prime is especially appreciated.
If we are to use history as a guide – as we should – Earl
Derr Biggers’ creation of Charlie Chan marked the first occasion of a fictional
Asian detective (Chinese-American to
be precise) to be received warmly by not only a U.S. audience but by filmgoers
worldwide. Biggers had published no
fewer than six Chan mystery novels in the years 1925-1932. The author may have even continued the series
had he not died young, age 48, in the spring of 1933. Though there had been preceding Chan film
adaptations – the first being a 1926 serial - it wasn’t until Swede Warner
Oland’s assumption of the role in 1931 that the character became an iconic
totem of detective cinema.
Though Oland had a clear lock on the public’s perception
of the inscrutable, unflappable Asian detective, the literary Chan was now moribund. Sensing a vacuum, yet another American author, John P. Marquand, would
create the friendly (and obviously pre-war) Japanese spy Mr. Moto. The missions of that character were first
serialized in issues of the Saturday
Evening Post (1935-1938), those stories soon turned into novels by Boston’s
Little Brown & Co. Following Daryl
F. Zanuck’s licensing of character rights for 2oth Century Fox in July of 1936,
the studio issued no fewer than eight Mr. Moto mystery films (featuring Peter
Lorre) in the years 1937-1939.
Whether it was Lorre who chose not to renew his Fox
contract, or whether Fox decided the series had simply played out or whether it
was the actions of an increasingly belligerent and aggressive Japan (who would formally
align with the Axis Powers in September of 1940), Mr. Moto’s final pre-WWII
film adventure, ironically titled Mr.
Moto Takes a Vacation, was released in summer of 1939. Whatever the reason, it was the success of
the Charlie Chan and Mr. Moto series that allowed Colliers magazine to coattail introduce Hugh Wiley’s Chinese-American
James Lee Wong series of detective stories in 1934.
In September of 1938 a California newspaper reported that
author Wiley had “just sold four of his detective stories, centering about the
character of James Lee Wong, to Monogram Pictures.” The proposed film series was purportedly to
feature Boris Karloff – just off production of Son of Frankenstein (Universal) – as the film’s title character. Technically, this character licensing report was
old news. In February of 1938, there
were already reports that Monogram’s Scott Dunlap was looking for the right actor
to cast as Mr. Wong. There was one sensible
suggestion that the studio was hoping to find a “Keye Luke” type. Luke was now approachable as Oland’s incarnate
of Charlie Chan had recently come to an abrupt, sad end. When Oland passed in August of 1938, Luke was
passed over for consideration as a successor. The part ignobly went to Sidney Toler, yet another actor of European
ancestry.
Keye Luke was already a familiar figure to cinemagoers –
he popularly played the “Number One Son” to Oland’s Chan in a number of films
in that popular series. Luke chose to
exit the Chan franchise following Oland’s passing: but while now available to
Monogram he was not considered a guaranteed box office draw. The Los Angeles Daily News reported on April 14, 1938 that, following negotiations
on a long-distance phone call, Dunlap had secured the promise of Boris Karloff,
age 50, to star in the proposed series. Shortly following that news, snippy Hollywood
gossiper Louella Parsons sniffed that Karloff was exhibiting more than a bit of
courage should he expect to “muscle in on the territory so triumphantly held by
Charlie Chan and Mr. Moto.”
On April 26, 1938, Variety
reported that the Monogram president had been “conferring” with producer Scott
R. Dunlap, looking to rush into production for the “1938-1939 releasing season”
four new feature films, one of which was Mr.
Wong, Detective. On 10 May Variety reported that Richard Weil, “the
author of the Charlie Chan radio adventures” had been tasked to write the
screenplay for the film. But whether due
to a “conflict of interest” concern or simply a scheduling issue, Weil soon fell
out and scripting duties went to Houston Branch, a Monogram dependable. In any
event, it wasn’t until late August of 1938 that the trades announced that Monogram’s
Mr. Wong film - suggested as the “first of four whodunits” all to star Boris
Karloff - was to go into production in a week’s time. Industry trade Box Office made further note that the four Wong serial mysteries
slated for production were Mr. Wong,
Detective, Mr. Wong at Headquarters,
Mr. Wong in Chinatown and The Mystery of Mr. Wong.
There would be no shortage of Asian detective melodramas
in 1938. Monogram’s Mr. Wong was to
compete directly against 20th Century Fox’s Mr. Moto series and the
Chan films still touring the regional circuit. And all three would feature
non-Asian actors as the title characters. Karloff, of course, was no stranger to accepting East-Asian roles,
having already appeared in such films as The
Mask of Fu Manchu (1932) and, more recently, West of Shanghai (1937). On
June 20th, the Los Angeles
Evening Citizen News offered while a complete script had not yet been turned
in, cameras were set to roll on Mr. Wong,
Detective in three weeks’ time. That
deadline was apparently missed, as the first day of shooting on Mr. Wong, Detective would not start
until late August (the 25th according to one contemporary newspaper
accounting, the 24th according to this film’s audio commentary).
We do know that on 3 September 1938, a journalist visited
Monogram’s Mr. Wong set. The writer had
chosen to sit through a portion of Karloff’s grueling three-and-a-half hour
session in the makeup chair of Gordon Bau. Karloff was no stranger to make-up applications, but admitted to the
reporter that such wearying sessions weren’t the favorite part of his day. “It’s lovely to get up and go to the studio
at 6:00 A.M., stretch out in a barber chair and have somebody with hobnailed
boots crawl in and out of your eyes.” Bau defensively parried that such applications were necessary evils,
admitting his work on applying rubber cement near Karloff’s eyes to create
epicurean folds proved the most challenging part of the actor’s physical transformation.
Karloff agreed the eye make-up applications were the most
wearying to endure. “By the time you get
done,” Karloff sighed, “my eyeballs are pressed, my vision is off focus and I
walk around all day in a haze.” Turning
his attention to the visiting journalist, Karloff sniggered, “And when finally
he gets through with me, he’s proud of what he’s done. He thinks it is a work of art.” For the most part, Karloff’s reimaging is
surprisingly subtle: a slick of pressed black hair, a slim moustache and
thickened eyebrows, slight eye folds often disguised behind a set of reading
glasses.
If Bau’s reasonably understated make-up appliance was a
work of art, critics were divided on whether or not Mr. Wong, Detective was. The
story itself concerns a cabal of spies working in interest of an unnamed
foreign power and trying to steal a poison gas formula for nefarious ends. The first of Monogram’s Mr. Wong pictures,
shot in a mere few weeks’ time, was set for October 5, 1938 release – a mere
month following Karloff’s session in Bau’s make-up chair.
Upon the film’s release Variety couldn’t help but comment on the film’s rushed, bargain
basement appearance, citing the production as ranging at best from “standard to
skimpy.” The Variety critic blamed director William Nigh and scripter Houston
Branch for the film’s shortfalls: “First
picture suffers from directorial and writing troubles, plus a combination of
careless acting and haphazard casting,” the reviewer sighed. Despite such criticism, it was noted that
Karloff did the best with the lackluster material given. Fighting “vigorously”
against the odds, the scribe conceded that Karloff had at the very least proven
his utility as an actor: his presence was enough to prove he needn’t have to
affix “grotesque makeup to register.”
Other reviews were kinder. London’s Picturegoer
was less critical of the picture, describing Karloff’s Mr. Wong as “a serious
rival to Charlie Chan.” But exhibitors were
more cautious, split in their opinion of the film’s merit: when one described Mr. Wong Detective, “Worthy of a top
spot on a double,” a second complained, “Where does Monogram get the idea this
is good? Awful – slowest moving thing I
have seen in years.”
Slow or not, by late January of 1939, Monogram was
already into production of the second of the series, The Mystery of Mr. Wong. W.T. Lackey took over producing duties
from Scott Dunlap, and scripter Branch was relieved of scenario duties,
screenwriting credit given to W. Scott Darling. Darling had been the screenwriter of Charlie
Chan at the Opera (1936) which, interestingly, pitted Oland’s detective
against a villainous Boris Karloff.
This second Wong was more of a pedestrian and routine parlor
murder mystery, one concerning the theft of a rare and expensive sapphire. By
March of 1939, The Mystery of Mr. Wong
was already reported as being in the “cutting room.” The film would be released in April of
1939. Though this second entry of the
series fared a wee better than its
predecessor in critical analysis, this sophomore effort too was faulted for its
“lack of action,” the weaving of too many obvious red herrings into the script,
and an appreciable number of wooden performances by the cast.
The lukewarm reviews were of little consequence. That
same April, it was announced that scripter Darling was to return and write the
series’ third entry, Mr. Wong in
Chinatown (aka Mr. Wong’s Chinatown
Squad). At Monogram’s sales convention at Chicago’s Drake Hotel in spring
of 1939, it was evident - despite the lackluster reviews - that studio bosses
were pleased with the box office takes of the first two Wong serials. They promised four more titles were already
in the pipeline: Mr. Wong Vanishes, Mr. Wong in Havana, Mr. Wong’s Chinatown Squad and Mr.
Wong in New York.
By June of 1939 Mr.
Wong in Chinatown was already well in production, screenwriter Darling
reported mid-month to have already begun scripting duties on what would be the
fourth of the series, Mr. Wong at
Headquarters. The scenario for Mr. Wong in Chinatown concerns his
investigation into the murder of a royal princess who had been visiting the
United States on a mission to purchase airplanes for defense of her country
against a hostile nation-state.
When Mr. Wong in
Chinatown was previewed in July of 1939, the reviews remained consistent
with the first two, tagging the film a “slow whodunit.” Though the picture was lacking
in any appreciable action, there was a concession that enough, “color and
mystery [was] attached to the proceedings to attract fair trade” – well, if
exploited properly. One exhibitor agreed,
reporting good box office receipts and anointing Mr. Wong in Chinatown, the “Best of the Wong series” to date.
The blandly titled Mr.
Wong at Headquarters went into production in November of 1939, and was already
in the cutting room by December’s end. By January of 1940 the film’s working title
was officially changed to the more mysterious and exotic The Fatal Hour and scheduled for a January 15, 1940 release. This time Wong is called to investigate the waterfront
murder of a fellow detective, the scenario intertwined with a bit of a
smuggling subplot. New York’s Daily News thought it a not particularly
“absorbing of murder mysteries, although it is filled with enough complications
to make a Philadelphia lawyer’s head spin.”
In late January of 1940, the Los Angeles Times reported, erroneously, that a fifth Mr. Wong
serial - tentatively titled Chamber of
Horrors – was in the works, Dorothy Reid cited as readying a script. Some months later the trades reported, far more
reliably, that William Nigh was, for a fifth time, signed to direct a Mr. Wong
mystery. Though Reid would not be
associated with this final Karloff Mr. Wong effort, there was no reason to
disbelieve the Times initial report: Reid had served as a producer and writer at
Monogram and had previously collaborated with Nigh on such productions as A Bride for Henry (1937) and Rose of the Rio Grande (1938). There was in fact a Monogram horror flick
titled Chamber of Horrors produced in
1940, but this was a Norman Lee film, based on the creaky Edgar Wallace novel of
1926, The Door with Seven Locks. Neither Reid nor Nigh was publically
connected to that film’s production.
When the final Karloff Wong film, Doomed to Die (aka Mystery of
the Wentworth Castle from a script penned by series’ newcomer Ralph G.
Bettinson), played Manhattan’s Rialto Theatre, the Hollywood Reporter caustically reported the picture was, if nothing
else, “aptly named for it died within a few days” of its showcase. The Baltimore
Sun coldly piled on with a bad notice of its own: “The direction, writing
and acting are slipshod beyond the limit of that large tolerance accorded this
extravert type of drama.” Still more
harsh criticism of the picture lie ahead. “Charlie Chan would shake with professional pity,” wrote the New York Herald Tribune, sighing that the
great Karloff “has never had a duller, more unexacting role.”
It was the last of Karloff’s involvement in the Mr. Wong
series. There was really no reason for the
actor to continue on in the role as he certainly did not need the work – nor did
he need the piling on of bad notices that continued to accumulate. In 1940, the year that Doomed to Die was released, Karloff would star in no fewer than
nine additional features for Columbia, Warner Bros., Universal, RKO Radio and
Monogram. He would certainly survive his
departure from the role. But would Mr.
Wong?
That question was answered in June of 1940 when Monogram announced
Keye Luke as Karloff’s successor in the role. It was a sensible progressive move on Monogram’s part, a UPI
correspondent writing a glowing tribute to Keye Luke who would now serve – at
long last – as “cinema’s one and only genuine Oriental detective.” Though Monogram signed the actor to a
four-picture “Mr. Wong” deal, the only entry produced with Luke in the
detective role was Phil Rosen’s Phantom
of Chinatown, released in November of 1940. The change of actor (and director) was mostly seamless and arguably
refreshing: Luke did bring a bit more energy and excitement to the role. (Karloff
was often cited by critics as a miscast who, largely unchallenged, chose to
sleepwalk through the role). Most
reviews of Luke’s Wong were complimentary, echoing those of a Variety critic who thought Phantom of Chinatown “worthy of the
average ‘B’ thriller of this type.”
There was some industry talk in January of 1941 that Paul
Malvern (an associate producer of Doomed
to Die and the producer of Phantom of
Chinatown) was preparing Luke’s return as Mr. Wong for the actor’s second outing,
provisionally titled Million Dollar
Mystery. Had that film been
produced, it would have been the seventh in the Monogram series. But no such film was greenlit (perhaps due to
Malvern’s 1941 defection to Universal) making Phantom of Chinatown the last of Monogram’s Mr. Wong series. Luke would fulfil his four-pic Monogram
contract in a waste of his talent making small appearances in The Gang’s All Here, Bowery Blitzkrieg and Let’s Go Collegiate, all released in
1941.
It’s of some disappointment that Phantom of Chinatown was excluded from this new Kino Lorber Blu-ray
collection. Perhaps Kino is planning a
standalone release of the title sometime in the future… at least I hope so. In the meantime, I suppose sad Completists
will have to hang on to their copies of VCI’s Mr. Wong Detective: The
Complete Collection DVD set for a bit longer. (Luke’s Phantom
of Chinatown can be found on that 2008 set in far better quality than you can
find any of those bargain-priced PD multi-film “mystery collection” type
collections… although the DVD issued by Film Detective in 2015 is also a
worthwhile seek out).
The five films featured on this Kino Lorber Studio
Classic Blu-ray issue of their Boris
Karloff: Mr. Wong Collection are all presented in 1920x1080p, in 1.37:1
aspect and DTS monaural sound. The films
have been sourced from new Hi-Definition masters made from 2K fine grain scans. The films are not visually perfect. There are moments of flickering, and
scratches and print damage, but this is likely the best we’ll ever get of these
dimly-recalled throw-away programmers. I’m certainly not complaining.
Other than the usual removable English subs, the Kino set
includes only a single feature – an audio commentary for Mr. Wong, Detective courtesy of Tom Weaver and Larry Blamire. On first pass, it might seem the inclusion of
only a single commentary on a
five-film set is sparse and ungenerous. But the behind-the-camera artisans of Wong series were a particularly
insular if clever and creative cabal: William Nigh, director of all five
Karloff entries, actor Grant Withers as “Captain Street” in all five as well, William
Lackey, an associate producer of four, and W. Scott Darling the screenwriter of
three. The contributions of these and
others in front of and behind the camera are duly noted on this set’s single
but informative and engaging commentary.
Weaver suggests at the commentaries front end that his
plan is to “keep things fun,” and he most certainly does. Both Weaver and Blamire have done their
homework, digging out practically every morsel of historical information they
could source for these uncelebrated Monogram quickies: this includes their deep
dig into (less reliable) information gleaned from ballyhoo appearing in the
film’s pressbook and other publicity materials, alongside contemporary reviews
from the Hollywood trades and newspapers. Blamire has really gone the extra mile, choosing to preemptively read
twelve of the twenty Hugh Wiley’s Mr. Wong short-stories so he might pick out
the moments and small bits the filmmakers used for the series.
I wasn’t as admiring of the
“actor re-creations” of interview transcripts of Karloff and others scattered
about the commentary. It seems
unnecessary and distracting - a simple “quote/unquote” recitation of such
material is preferable to badly-mimicked vocal imitations. The (thankfully)
occasional insertion of MST3K-style sound effects and dubbed-in jokey one-liners
were also unnecessary IMHO, but I’m admittedly a grouch. If you prefer your Wong with a dash of irreverence
then have at it. Weaver and Blamire also
sidecar their commentary with several detours touching on the Charlie Chan and
Mr. Moto series, all fair game. All in
all, the commentary track serves as an excellent primer for fans wishing to
learn a bit more about Mr. Wong on page and film. To summarize, this excellent package from
Kino Lorber is a “must-have."
Those of us of a certain age can indulge in bragging rights because we saw "Jaws" when it first opened in theaters in June, 1975. I was a 19 year-old college student at the time and was serving as film critic for my campus newspaper. Ordinarily, I would have received an invitation from the studio to view the film in advance. But this was not the case with "Jaws". Perhaps the top echelon of critics were given this privilege, but Universal wanted to capitalize on the element of surprise and didn't want spoilers to leak out quickly. Thus, my girlfriend and I stood amidst the seemingly endless queue waiting for tickets on opening night. We were fortunate to get into the theater, as many disappointed patrons were turned away when the venue maxed out. To be clear, "Jaws" was not a sleeper hit; a little-heralded gem that surprised the industry by becoming a major success. Quite the contrary. Peter Benchley's bestselling novel was deemed to be the basis of a sure-fire major studio hit and Universal was optimistic from the start that the film would be a major moneymaker. However, no one could have predicted just how big of a hit the film would be, certainly not the average movie-goer who anticipated a fun flick with some genuine scares. From the first frames of the movie, I realized the film would be something special thanks to the largely untested 25 year-old director Steven Spielberg, who initially won some attention for his direction of "Duel", a 1971 American TV production in which Dennis Weaver is trapped in a deadly cat-and-mouse game with a mysterious and murderous truck driver on a desert highway. By the the time the end credits of "Jaws" rolled on screen, I knew I had seen a genuine masterpiece. The societal impact of the film was astonishing. The next day we went to the beach on the Jersey Shore. It was packed but curiously, relatively few people were in the water. The news would later report that so many people had seen the film the first day that they were wary of sticking so much as a big toe into the ocean.
The "Jaws" phenomenon has persisted through the decades, surviving lousy sequels and a barrage of bargain basement imitations. In 2005, Cinema Retro was invited to the official "Jaws Fest" on Martha's Vineyard, a marvelous event that featured cast and crew members, an appearance by Peter Benchley and the town remade into the village of Amity, complete with the original signage used in the film. The highlight was a screening of the film on the beach preceded by a special filmed welcome from Steven Spielberg. Now the ultimate tribute to the film comes to Broadway in the form of the three-character play "The Shark is Broken", co-written by Ian Shaw and Joseph Nixon. Unless you've been living in a cave, you've undoubtedly read that Shaw is the son of the late esteemed actor and playwright, Robert Shaw, who played the role of the Ahab-like shark fisherman Quint in the film. Ian (I will refer to him by his first name to avoid confusing references to his father) also plays his dad in the production. He's joined by Alex Brightman as Richard Dreyfuss and and Colin Donnell as Roy Scheider. The entire play takes place in the fishing boat Orca in which the three fictional heroes in the film set out to kill the renegade shark that has devoured swimmers in the town of Amity. Ian and Nixon delved into researching the production troubles encountered in the making of the film, which went far over schedule and over budget, stranding the cast and crew on the tony island. As the play unfolds, we see Shaw, Scheider and Dreyfuss expressing frustration at their plight. They are angry and bored and the shoot has no end in sight as director Spielberg (not seen in the play, but occasionally heard) grapples with the unforgiving weather and endless mechanical problems that prohibit the giant mechanical shark from operating properly, hence the title of the play. The three men drink, smoke and engage in mutual ball-busting insults, as men will inevitably do when a bottle is passed around. At times they are genuinely friendly but Shaw's alcoholism leads to a tension between him and Dreyfuss, who bears the brunt of his wrath. In this war between co-stars, the cool and calm Scheider tries to play the role of Switzerland and maintain a truce between the combatants. All of them fear that they are starring in a stinker that will damage their careers. The play is primarily a comedy but don't expect pratfalls and one-liners. The laughs evolve believably through the excellent script,which also provides some dramatic and emotional moments concerning Shaw's inability to deliver the most important dialogue because he is drunk.The scene concerns Quint's dramatic soliloquy about the horrors that befell the crew of the sunken U.S.S. Indianapolis, which was sunk in the Pacific during the final days of the WWII. The survivors languished in the water for days with many dying from predatory sharks. As in real life, the play depicts Shaw's self-recognition that he had compromised the emotional heart of the film and we watch him prepare to atone for his sin by doing the scene right on the second take. (Shaw's delivery of this speech in the film should have seen him nominated for an Oscar.)
Director Guy Masterson has a genuine feel for the characters. There are no over-the-top moments and Masterson handles both the humor and the considerable pathos with equal skill. I especially enjoyed the chuckles derived from Shaw reading about the on-going Watergate scandal that was unfolding in 1974 when "Jaws" was being filmed. Duncan Henderson's set design is a model of efficiency. The men may be confined to the Orca but the production never looks chintzy. Credit Nina Dunn's masterful rear screen ocean scenes, which add immeasurably in "opening up" the play. In an age of over-produced, over-priced and over-blown Broadway shows, "The Shark is Broken" is like a revelation. It boils theater down to the basics- and thankfully no one decided to ruin this film-to-stage adaptation by inserting some dreadful musical numbers, as has been the norm on Broadway. The historic Golden Theatre is the perfect venue for this production, as it's not-to-large and not-too-small. It allows the audience to experience the intimacy of the dialogue and the dilemma of the three characters.
The performances are nothing less than superb. Ian Shaw is the spitting image of his father and delivers his mannerisms with precision. It can't be easy playin an iconic actor in an iconic role, especially when he's your father. Alex Brightman is extremely funny as the much-put-upon Dreyfuss, channeling all of the nervous energy and insecurities one might expect of a Jewish guy from New York who finds himself stranded in Martha's Vineyard with an occasionally psychotic and drunken co-star determined to humiliate him. Colin Donnell has the least-flashy role as Roy Scheider, and he brings off perhaps the most challenging performance impeccably. Why the most challenging? Because not even a drunk at a cocktail party attempts to perform a Roy Scheider imitation. The actor never possessed the signature characteristics of his co-stars, yet Donnell is so good at recalling Scheider's understated mannerisms that we feel we're watching the late actor himself.
(Photo: Matthew Murphy)
"The Shark is Broken" arrives on Broadway following a sensational, acclaimed run on the West End. Now that the great white shark is on the Great White Way for limited 16-week run, it would seem that a similar reception is in store, if the thunderous ovation given by the audience at a sold-out preview performance this critic was invited to see on August 5th is any indication. I hope that the play's populist appeal doesn't result in it being denied much-deserved Tony nominations because it is worthy of official recognition. We've all been through a lot of grief lately: the pandemic, international tensions, inflation and the ugliest political environment the U.S. has seen in the last century. "The Shark is Broken" won't cure any of these problems, but I guarantee it will provide some temporary relief. Don't let it be the one that got away. It's the most enjoyable theatrical experience I've seen in quite some time.
(The play runs 95 minutes without an intermission.)
Frank
Lovejoy, Richard Carlson and Rusty Tamblyn are United States Marines sent to South
Korea in the early days of the Korean War in the 1952 film “Retreat, Hell!,” available on DVD
and Blu-ray from Olive Films. The movie follows the fictionalized exploits of a
Marine battalion during America’s “forgotten war,” one often overlooked in film
as well as in our collective memories. We follow these Marines from training at
Camp Pendleton, California, to the 1950 landing at Inchon, South Korea, followed
by their battles with North Korean and Chinese soldiers through a bitterly cold
winter. Everything goes as planned until faced with the unexpected overwhelming
response by the enemy.
The
film features a fine performance by Richard Carlson as Captain Paul Hanson.
He’s a married reserve officer and WWII veteran recalled to active service. He balances
family and the needs of the military including military deployments. Carlson’s
Captain Hanson is not happy about being recalled to active duty and moving his
family to California. Soon after arriving, he’s informed he and his men will be
spending all their time in the field training which ratchets up his resentment because
he’s not able to spend any time with his family prior to deploying to Korea.
This creates conflict between Hanson and his commanding officer and mistrust of
his leadership skills. Frank Lovejoy is his commander, Lt. Colonel Steve
Corbett, who places duty above all else.
Captain
Hanson’s wife, Ruth, is played by Anita Louise. Louise is an actress remembered
today for her work in television after she made this film. She isn’t given much
to do here with only a couple of scenes as a supportive wife and mother, but
does the best she can given the limited time to develop her character. Lovejoy is
an actor who dies too young at age 50 in 1962. He’s best remembered for a wide
variety of credits on stage, screen and television often specializing as
military men, cops and detectives. He’s very good here as the Marine commander
holding his men together as they retreat after facing overwhelming Chinese and
North Korean troops.
Carlson
is best remembered today for his work in the sci-fi classics “It Came from
Outer Space,” “Creature from the Black Lagoon” and “The Valley of Gwangi.” He appeared
in another Korean War drama, “Flat Top,” as well as the Bob Hope comedy “The
Ghost Breakers,” the 1950 version of “King Solomon’s Mines,” the Elvis drama “Change
of Habit” and scores of television series and movies. According to IMdb, John
Wayne was scheduled to appear in the movie, but backed out due to other movie
commitments. It certainly would have changed the movie, depending on the role,
if the Duke would have been cast.
Rounding
out the cast is Russ Tamblyn (billed as Rusty Tamblyn) as Private Jimmy
McDermid, fresh from basic training. Tamblyn is undoubtably the best remembered
of the cast today for his role in the David Lynch cult classic “Twin Peaks.” He
also appeared in countless classic movies including “The Haunting,” How the
West Was Won,” “The Long Ships,” “Peyton Place,” “Seven Brides for Seven
Brothers,” “Tom Thumb,” “The War of the Gargantuas” (if you haven’t seen it,
you must!), “West Side Story,” “The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm” and
countless other movies and television series. Tamblyn remains one of the great
underrated talents in film and television.
The
movie’s title comes from a statement made by Major General O.P. Smith,
commanding general of the First Marine Division at the Battle of Chosin
Reservoir, who was asked if he was ordering his men to retreat. The general
replied, "Retreat, Hell! We're not retreating, we're just advancing in a
different direction." In the movie, the line is spoken by Frank Lovejoy.
The phrase, “Retreat, Hell!,” is common among Marines to this day. “Advancing
in a different direction” is a phrase often repeated by military troops in all
branches.
A
co-production of United States Pictures and Warner Bros., the movie was
released in February 1952 by Warner Bros. The movie could be easily mistaken
for propaganda as it was released during the Korean War and opens with the
Marine Corps song over the titles in a score by William Lava which plays
throughout the movie. Filmed with the approval of the Marine Corps, the drama is
apolitical with a focus on the personal drama of the men caught in
extraordinary circumstances. The movie was directed by Joseph H. Lewis with a
screenplay co-written by Milton Sperling and Ted Sherdeman. All three have a
variety of big and small screen credits from low-budget thrillers to television
into the 1960s.
The
film is lacking by the obvious California locations standing in for Korea which
was commonly used in military dramas and a score which consists mostly of
variations on the Marine Corps song But the movie stands out as a small gem about
the Korean War with fine performances by Carlson, Lovejoy and Tamblyn.
Prior
to the film’s release in San Antonio, Texas, the title was changed to “Retreat,
Heck” in local radio ads because the original title was deemed offensive. Both
the DVD and Blu-ray look terrific in glorious black & white in this disc
released by Olive films. The movie clocks in at 95 minutes in a 1.37:1 aspect
ratio. Unfortunately, there are no extras on the DVD or Blu-ray. I recommend
picking up the Blu-ray, but you can’t go wrong with the DVD version if that’s
your format of choice. In both cases, the movie looks and sounds terrific, although there are no bonus features.. “Retreat,
Hell!” is recommended for fans of military movies.
(Note:
It has been announced that Olive Films has unfortunately ceased operations.
However, this video is still available on Amazon.)
The old adage that good things come in small packages applies to movies, specifically "B" movies. They were once a valued staple of the film business during the eras in which local theaters generally showed double features. "B" movies were sometimes the top-billed feature but more often than not they were produced simply to provide programming for the bottom half of the bill at a low cost. This is not to diminish their worth. Most of these productions were quite entertaining and some have gone on to be regarded as cult classics. "The Gun Runners", a 1958 United Artists film, is not a cult classic but it is a "B" movie and it is quite good, largely because this story about a deep sea fisherman has director Don Siegel's firm hand on the tiller. The screenplay is derived from two Ernest Hemingway sources: a 1934 short story, "One Trip Across" and his classic novel "To Have and Have Not" which was brought to the screenin 1944 by director Howard Hawks and star Humphrey Bogart. Only a few years later, it had been remade as "The Breaking Point" starring John Garfield. For whatever reason, the producers assumed there was still fertile ground to be exploit in Hemingway's tales and this loose adaptation also owes some obvious inspiration to John Huston's 1948 classic "Key Largo". Despite the hodgepodge nature of its source material and a micro budget, "The Gun Runners" is engrossing throughout.
Audie Murphy stars as Sam Martin, a down-on-his-luck deep sea fisherman who operates a charter boat out of Key West. Sam is happily married to Lucy (Patricia Owens), a devoted wife whose passion for her husband results in the film having a somewhat edgy content in terms of sexual innuendo, as the young couple can barely keep their hands off each other. Sam's home life may be blissful but he's in deep debt due to slumping rentals of his boat. On an excursion to Havana during the midst of the revolution (which was in progress when the movie was filmed, though California locations are stand ins for Cuban locales), Sam is approached by a couple of shady revolutionaries who want to employ his boat for illicit purposes. Sam rejects their overture but within seconds, he witnesses an inquisitive police officer brutally murdered by the men. He flees Cuba before anyone can place him as an eyewitness. Back home, his fortunes continue to decline and he fears having his boat foreclosed on. Good fortune seems to smile upon him when a wealthy man named Hanagan (Eddie Albert), accompanied by his beautiful young mistress Eva (Gita Hall), wants to pay to charter Sam's boat for a princely sum- with the caveat that they make an unauthorized nighttime visit to Havana without getting a travel permit. Sam takes an immediate dislike to the perpetually jovial Hannigan and doubts his story that he and Eva simply want to sample the nightlife in Havana. Sam reluctantly agrees out of financial desperation. Once in Cuba, however, Hannigan is actually secretly meeting with revolutionaries, who pay him a large sum of cash in return for promising to deliver a cache of weapons to them on his next visit. Things get hairier from there when Hannigan uses financial blackmail to force Sam into making a return visit to Cuba in order to drop off the weapons. In the "Key Largo"-like finale, he finds himself on board the small vessel with Hannigan and his gang of cutthroats (including sadistic Richard Jaeckel) who have every incentive to kill him once the mission is complete. Of particular interest is the screenplay's attempts to remain politically ambivalent in dealing with the Cuban revolution, though the writers clearly seem to paint the rebels in an unfavorable light. (Only a few months after the film's release, the Batista regime would fall to Castro's forces.)
Director Siegel was known for making his films lean and mean and this is no exception. Working with a threadbare budget, he manages to squeeze considerable suspense out of the scenarios with nary a wasted frame of film or a superfluous line of dialogue. Audie Murphy suffices in the lead role, but the part calls out for someone with a harder edge. The film benefits from a marvelous cast of supporting actors with Everett Sloane especially good as Sam's elderly, wino first mate who he keeps on simply out of sentiment. There are also bit parts by Jack Elam and John Ford regular John Qualen. The two female leads are very good but Gita Hall steals the show in the traditional role of glamorous femme fatale, a young woman who is mortgaging her future for the trappings of luxury by serving as Hannigan's mistress. (If she were in a higher profile film, she may have gone on to stardom.) By far the best performance is given by Eddie Albert, who makes for a larger-than-life, smarmy villain. The diversity of this actor is often overlooked. He could play light comedy (he was great in "Green Acres") with exceptional skill while also delivering dramatic performances that are equally impressive.
The Kino Lorber Blu-ray features the original trailer with an English track but Italian titles (go figure) and some bonus trailers. I don't want to overstate the merits of "The Gun Runners" but as a "B" movie it exceeds expectations. Recommended.
The 1961 MGM Western A Thunder of Drums has been released by the Warner Archive. The film was regarded as a standard oater in its day but has since built a loyal following who have been eager to have the movie available on the home video market. What sets A Thunder of Drums apart from many of the indistinguishable Westerns of the period is its downbeat storyline and intelligent script, which was clearly geared for adults as opposed to moppets. There's also the impressive cast: Richard Boone, George Hamilton, Charles Bronson, Arthur O'Connell, Richard Chamberlain and Slim Pickens among them.The film opens with a sequence that was very unsettling and shocking for its day: an Indian attack on a tranquil homestead. A little girl is forced to witness the gang rape and murders of her mother and teenage sister. The plot then shifts to the local fort where commandant Boone is overseeing an understaffed cavalry contingent that has to find and defeat the marauding tribe, which has already slaughtered numerous settlers and soldiers. The Indians are window dressing in the story: nameless, faceless adversaries who are not given any particular motivation for their savagery. (These was, remember, far less enlightened times and such conflicts were generally presented without nuance.)
George Hamilton is the by-the-book West Point graduate assigned to the fort as Boone's second-in-command. He gets a frosty reception from minute one. Boone tells him he doesn't meet the requirements of a seasoned officer who can survive in the hostile environment. The two men spend a good deal of their time in a psychological war of wills. Adding to Hamilton's discomfort is the discovery that his former lover, Luana Patten, is not only living at the remote outpost, but is engaged to one of his fellow officers. The two rekindle their own romance and this leads to scandalous and tragic results.
The film is based on a novel by popular Western writer James Warner Bellah and probably represents the career high water mark of director Joseph Newman, who was destined to toil for decades helming B movies. He gets vibrant performances from his cast. The ever-watchable Boone is in his predictably crusty mode, cynically second-guessing his officers and men, tossing out insults and sucking on an omnipresent stogie. Boone was so dominant in every role he played, one wonders why he never reached a higher status as a reliable box-office figure. Hamilton is in his standard pretty boy mode, but holds his own against macho men Boone and Charles Bronson, who is cast against type as a somewhat dim-witted character of low scruples. Singer Duane Eddy, who was a teenage pop star at the time, made his film debut here with a degree of fanfare, but it was obviously last minute stunt casting as Eddy is given virtually nothing to do except strum a few chords on his guitar. The film boasts some magnificent scenery and some rousing action sequences that are more realistic than those found in most Westerns of the time. A Thunder of Drums isn't art or even a great or important Western - but it is fine entertainment and the Warner Archive edition looks terrific. A Blu-ray edition is overdue! The only bonus feature is the original theatrical trailer is included (the one seen above is of inferior quality to the trailer featured on the disc, but it does give a good overview of the film).
CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM THE CINEMA RETRO MOVIE STORE
Action film icon Charles Bronson did it all.
He made westerns (The Magnificent Seven,
Once Upon a Time in the West), war films (The Great Escape, The Dirty Dozen), lone cop movies (The Stone Killer, 10 to Midnight) and
vigilante films (Death Wish series).
Just to name a few. Between 1968 and 1972, after mostly being a supporting
actor in Hollywood movies and before become a Hollywood leading man due to
films like Mr. Majestyk and Death Wish (both 1974), Bronson did a
lot of great work in Europe and starred in many different roles; cop (Rider on the Rain aka Le passager de la pluie), thief (Farewell Friend aka Adieu l'ami), gangster (The
Valachi Papers), etc. In 1970, he played a hitman (two years before playing
a similar role in Michael Winner’s fantastic
The Mechanic) in the underrated Italian-French co-production Violent City.
While vacationing with his lover Vanessa
(Jill Ireland, Love and Bullets),
professional hitman Jeff Heston (Bronson) is shot and left for dead. Heston
survives, however, and tracks the killer down. After murdering him, Jeff
decides to retire and live happily with Vanessa. But before the couple can
leave town, Heston is asked by crime boss, Al Weber (Telly Savalas), to come
work for him. Heston refuses, but Weber produces evidence of Heston’s previous
murder. Jeff must now figure out a way to obtain the evidence from the
dangerous crime boss and escape unharmed with the lovely Vanessa. However, Jeff
is unaware that there are much more sinister forces conspiring against him.
Very well-directed by Sergio Sollima (The Big Gundown aka La resa dei conti, Revolver) from a thoroughly enjoyable script
co-written by Lina Wertmüller (Seven
Beauties), Violent City (aka Città violenta), is a well-done,
entertaining piece of action cinema as well as one of the first examples of the
subgenre called Poliziotteschi (Italian crime and action films of the 1960s and
70s which featured car chases, corruption, graphic violence, etc. as well as
lone heroes who stood up to the system). Sergio Sollima does a wonderful job directing
intricate, entertaining action sequences; most notably a Bullitt-like car chase Sollima swears was ripped off from one of
his previous films and not from the 1968 Peter Yates/Steve McQueen action
classic.
The adrenaline-charged script not only gives
us plenty of action, but also a number of unexpected twist and turns;
especially the ending. The well-written characters are made convincing by the estimable
talents of Bronson, Savalas and Ireland. Through another terrific, mostly
low-key performance, steely-eyed Bronson shows us that not only can he take
care of business, but that his character possesses a softer side when necessary.
Telly Savalas infuses his vicious character with quite a bit of humor, and the
beautiful Jill Ireland gives several dimensions to Vanessa.
Violent City features even more
great acting talent such as Michael Constantin (Cold Sweat, 1978’s The
Inglorious Bastards), Umberto Orsini (The
Damned), and Telly’s brother, George Savalas (The Slender Thread, Kelly’s Heroes).
Last, but not least, the engaging film, which
was shot in the United States and distributed (in Italy) by Universal Pictures,
benefits from a great musical score by the immortal Ennio Morricone (The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, The Bird
with the Crystal Plumage, Once Upon a Time in America).
Although it’s not one of Bronson’s more
well-known titles, that shouldn’t stop you. I enjoyed Violent City very much. It’s an entertaining action-thriller with a
solid cast and an interesting story. I highly recommend checking it out.
Violent City has been released on
a Region 1 Blu-ray from the always reliable folks at Kino Lorber. The
wonderful-looking transfer is presented in the film’s original 2.35:1 aspect
ratio and the disc also contains a highly informative audio commentary by Paul
Talbot, author of the “Bronson’s Loose!” books; a terrific interview with director
Sergio Sollima and the original theatrical trailer. We are also treated to a
second disc which features Città violenta,
the Italian print of the film as well as the 1973 U.S. cut known as The Family. Lastly, both discs feature
exciting trailers to many different Bronson films.
Two
of the West’s most legendary figures search for the demon buffalo that
haunts them both! They called him Wild Bill Hickok (Charles Bronson,
Breakheart Pass). The Prince of Pistoleers. A frontier adventurer and
killer of men. Now, in his last years, he is an old gunfighter plagued
by fears and driven by a need to make peace with himself. The white
buffalo is his constant nightmare. He must find the fabled beast and
destroy it…before it destroys him. He was Crazy Horse (Will Sampson, One
Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). The greatest of all Sioux chiefs. A
warrior of dignity and pride. Now, as a father who searches for the
legendary albino buffalo so that the spirit of his dead child can go to
heaven, he will stop at nothing to obtain the sacred white pelt. J. Lee
Thompson (The Guns of Navarone, Cape Fear, Murphy’s Law) directs this
heart-stopping, one-of-a-kind western with a brilliant supporting cast
that includes Jack Warden (Billy Two Hats), Clint Walker (More Dead Than
Alive), Slim Pickens (Blazing Saddles), Stuart Whitman (The
Comancheros), John Carradine (Stagecoach) and Kim Novak (Vertigo).
Product Extras :
Brand New HD Master - From a 2K Scan of the 35mm Interpositive
NEW Audio Commentary by Film Historian Paul Talbot, the author of the BRONSON'S LOOSE! Books
The fifteenth annual New York City Independent Film
Festival was held during the week of June 4 through 11 at Manhattan’s
Producer’s Club on West 44th Street, a few blocks west of Times
Square.The week-long festival would
host the screenings of over two hundred indie films. Co-Directors John Anderson and Bob Sarles' absorbing and
authoritatively assembled music doc Born
in Chicago, screened on the festival’s final day, doesn’t pretend to serve
as the definitive nor most academically-minded treatise on the history of blues
music in America.Such studies as the seven-episode
PBS series The Blues (2003) had
already touched lightly on many aspects of multi-layered history of the blues
in America.This film’s primary interest
lies elsewhere.
The state of Mississippi, the birthplace of the blues and
home of some of the music’s greatest practitioners is, of course, referenced
early on in Born in Chicago.But the fertile musical and agricultural area
surrounding the Mississippi Delta region serves merely as the pregnant preface of
what’s to come.There’s no mention that
I can recall of the high-end music of band leader W.C. Handy, the
self-proclaimed “Father of the Blues,” or of Ma Rainy, “Mother of the Blues” or
even of such a master figure as songster Charley Patton, the acknowledged progenitor
of the rough and tumble country blues.
Alan Lomax’s 1941-1942 Library of Congress recordings of one
McKinley Morganfield (soon to be rechristened as “Muddy Waters”) down on
Stovall’s Plantation near Clarksdale, MS is briefly referenced in Born in Chicago, but only in
passing.The film recalls Waters as merely
one of the many immigrant blues singers who, among non-musical travelers and those
feeling racism and economic hardship, would abandon Mississippi - and neighboring
states - to seek employment in Chicago’s burgeoning meat-packing and steel industries.
The blues singers arriving in the Windy City would often perform
for pocket change on Chicago’s fabled Maxwell Street, and there’s a bit of
historic film footage included in the film to document it.But ultimately Born in Chicago assumes that a knowledgeable blues aficionado is already
conversant with the complex reasons that Chicago would birth the raw and
immeasurably emotive electric blues.Born in Chicago soon time-jumps from a
basic introductory primer to a particular moment in history – a period roughly
encompassing 1964 through 1970 - when public interest in the blues music would peculiarly
shift along color lines.
Though the blues was created by black artists for a
primarily black audience, by the mid-1960s it was lovingly embraced by a cabal
of young, white and often gifted musicians. In some sense these mostly suburban
youngsters were oddballs.Not only were
they complete outsiders to African-American life and musical culture, but estranged
from even their own middle-class heritages.The best of them were determined to apprentice with the real-deal blues masters
whose recordings they had painstakingly studied and cherished.
Such Chicago blues artists as Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf
(aka Chester Burnett), and Little Walter Jacobs were at their musical – if not money-earning
career peaks – in the 1950s.Though
Chicago boasted any number of record labels pressing 78 rpm discs of the talent
grinding their music out almost nightly in such saloons as Pepper’s Lounge, Silvio’s,
Smitty’s Corner, Big John’s, the Blue Flame Lounge, and Frost’s Corner, it was
Chess Records that emerged the most important and iconic.Though label co-founder Leonard Chess appears
in an archive footage interview alongside his son Marshall, Born in Chicago wisely chooses not to revisit
the company’s backstory.That’s a tale
already told in several docs as well as in Darnell Martin’s ill-disguised
Chess-mirror fiction-feature Cadillac
Records (2008).
There’s lots of archival footage threaded throughout Born in Chicago.Some of the film’s moodiest and most intimate
saloon environ images come courtesy of several reels of silent B-roll 8mm color
footage shot by drummer Sam Lay and his wife.Lay is an important figure here due to his key role in the blues tradition’s
transition: he not only worked the South Side taverns with nearly all the blues
giants but was also a founding member (along with bassist Jerome Arnold) in the
inter-racial Paul Butterfield Blues Band.
Though not a concert film by any means – all performances
featured in Born in Chicago are
offered in truncated form - there are extended clips of Muddy Waters and Howlin’
Wolf to offer insight into the power of their stage presence and hypnotic
powers.This inclusion is not
unreasonable as the two singers were the figurehead totems of the Chicago blues
scene of the 1950s.Muddy and Wolf were
also among the most generous and least suspicious of interlopers. They were
appreciative of the enthusiasm and interest of these young, white blues
revivalists and allowed them to share the stage and showcase their talents.
Of course, Muddy and Wolf didn’t singularly or together
create the Chicago blues scene.During
the course of Born in Chicago we’re briefly
introduced to a number of the first and second wave Chicago’s bluesmen, as well
as the iconic sidemen who helped create the sound: Otis Spann, Yank Rachel,
Robert Lockwood, Willie Dixon, Junior Wells, Sonny Boy Williamson, Otis Rush,
Buddy Guy, Hubert Sumlin, Magic Sam, Walter and Big Walter “Shakey” Horton all pass
through the film in either image or musical snippet, all honorably referenced as
“engines” of the scene.
Though the blues was derived partly from African musical traditions,
the blues as the world knows it today was birthed in the area of the
Mississippi Delta.Chicago blues was, at
the very beginning anyway, mostly an electric, highly amplified extension of
that earlier homegrown music, improvised out-of-necessity to cut through the
din of celebratory patrons gathered inside cramped and sweaty neighborhood
taverns.
The 1950s was the decade Chicago’s blues scene was at its
creative peak.The musicians who arrived
in Chicago during the great migration from the southern U.S. quickly bonded to
a natural audience.They were warmly
embraced by audiences that were once – and now again - neighbors.The musicians and their fans shared similar customs,
life experiences and musical interests, and such familiarity allowed Chicago’s
blues scene to thrive during the 1950s.
But by the early 1960s, the musical tastes of black
audiences began to shift, particularly among younger listeners.This group held no bonding memories or immediate
connections to blues or rustic southern musical culture.The rhythm-and-blues and soul of Sam Cooke,
Jackie Wilson, and James Brown was in emergence and such artists were now the most
favored of black audiences.It wasn’t
long until the Motown and Stax labels would supplant Chess as the recording
mecca for black artists.
But just as black interest in blues was seemingly on the wane,
there was a sudden curious interest in the art by young, rebellious and hip
Midwestern middle-class whites.Their
passion for the music was often ignited by their discovery of late-night
broadcasts of blues and old-school R&B found on the far ends of their radio
dials.Many of these disciples – which would
include such 1960’s blues and rock luminaries as Barry Goldberg, Michael Bloomfield,
Nick Gravenites, Paul Butterfield, Corky Siegel, Harvey Mandel, Charlie Musselwhite,
Elvin Bishop, Steve Miller and Bob Dylan – are all featured in Born in Chicago.It could be argued they were actually re-born in Chicago.
In any case, this is the time period under analysis in Born in Chicago.Liberal and open-minded students attending (or
merely hanging on the fringes) of the University of Chicago – the campus itself
nestled within the city’s Southside – played a role in the blossoming blues
revival.Through the interventions of on-campus
folk music clubs Chicago U. would stage not only small folk-music gatherings
but several important folk music festivals – several showcasing such blues artists
as Willie Dixon, Memphis Slim, Big Joe Williams and blind street singer Arvella
Gray. This new interest in folk-blues
music brought many students and scene hanger-on’s to Chicago’s pawn shops in
search of guitars and friends and subsequent musical fellow travelers.
The most dedicated – and talented of these musicians –
would reverse “integrate” these black-only Southside blues taverns - often under
the suspicious and unwelcome gaze of black patrons in attendance.But both Muddy and Wolf and their respective
band members would embrace such musicians as guitarist Michael Bloomfield and blues
harpist Paul Butterfield et.al. once they realized these searching white
youngsters – many demonstrating superlative musical talent – were looking to absorb,
as best they could, the essence and emotional comport of the blues.
CELEBRATE
100 YEARS OF WARNER BROS. WITH TWO CLASSIC FILMS
EAST OF EDEN AND RIO BRAVO
WILL BE AVAILABLE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 4K RESOLUTION WITH
HIGH DYNAMIC RANGE (HDR)
PURCHASE THEM ON 4K ULTRA HD DISC AND DIGITALLY AUGUST 1
Burbank, Calif., May 30, 2023 – As part of the
year-long centennial celebration for the 100th anniversary of Warner
Bros. Studio, two iconic classics from the Warner Bros. library – East of
EdenandRio Bravo- will be available for
purchase on 4K Ultra HD Disc and Digital August 1.
East of Eden, directed by Academy Award
winner Elia Kazan and starring James Dean, and Rio Bravo, directed
by Honorary Academy Award winner Howard Hawks and starring John Wayne, will be
available to purchase on Ultra HD Blu-ray™Disc from
online and in-store at major retailers and available for purchase Digitally
from Amazon Prime Video, AppleTV, Google Play, Vudu and more.
Working in partnership with The Film Foundation, both films were
restored and remastered by Warner Bros. Post Production Creative Services:
Motion Picture Imaging and Post Production Sound. Since its launch
by Martin Scorsese in 1990, The Film Foundation has restored more
than 900 movies.
The Ultra HD Blu-ray Disc will include each feature film in 4K
with HDR and a Digital version of the feature film.
Ultra HD Blu-ray showcases 4K resolution with High Dynamic Range
(HDR) and a wider color spectrum, offering consumers brighter, deeper, more
lifelike colors for a home entertainment viewing experience like never before.
For the complete 4K Ultra HD experience with HDR, a 4K Ultra HD TV
with HDR, an Ultra HD Blu-ray player and a high-speed HDMI (category 2) cable
are required.
About the Films:
East of Eden
In the Salinas Valley in and around World War I, Cal Trask feels
he must compete against overwhelming odds with his brother Aron for the love of
their father Adam. Carl is frustrated at every turn, from his reaction to the
war, to how to get ahead in business and in life, to how to relate to his
estranged mother.
The 1955 period drama is directed by Elia Kazan from a
screenplay by Paul Osborn and based on the 1952 John Steinbeck novel of the
same name. The film stars James Dean, Julie Harris, Raymond Massey, Burl
Ives, Richard Davalos, and Jo Van Fleet.
East of Eden was nominated for 3 Academy
Awards with Van Fleet winning for Best Supporting Actress. East of
Eden was named one of the 400 best American films of all time by the American Film
Institute. In 2016, the film was selected
for preservation in the United States National Film
Registry by the Library of
Congress as being "culturally,
historically, or aesthetically significant".
Rio Bravo
A small-town sheriff in the American West enlists the help of a
disabled man, a drunk, and a young gunfighter in his efforts to hold in jail
the brother of the local bad guy.
The 1959 American Western film is directed by Howard
Hawks. The screenplay is by Jules Furthman and Leigh Brackett and is based on
the short story “Rio Bravo” by B.H. McCampbell. The film stars John Wayne, Dean
Martin, Ricky Nelson, Angie Dickinson, Walter Brennan, and Ward Bond.
In 2014, Rio Bravo was selected for preservation in
the United States National Film
Registry by the Library of
Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically
significant.”
Ultra HD Blu-ray Elements
East
of EdenUltra HD Blu-ray contains the following previously released
special features:
Commentary by Richard Schickel
Rio BravoUltra HD
Blu-ray contains the following previously released special features:
Where
does a book begin? In my case, with Cleopatra
it came when my dear late mother found out that Elizabeth Taylor had been
recently seen in the pub in South East London where we used to go to celebrate
family occasions.
This
would have been in 1963/64, when the very idea of a screen goddess, a genuine film
star, a bona-fide legend likeElizabeth Taylor would inhabit the same
universe as us!
Thirty
years later and I am Film Editor of Vox,
a monthly UK music and film magazine. I wrote a feature for the 30th
anniversary of Cleopatra, and tried
pitching it as a BBC radio documentary. So over the years I accrued a filing
cabinet drawer and shelf full of material about that legendary 1963 film.
Few
of the film’s stars survived into the 21st century, so I had to rely
on cuttings, biographies and film histories. As you might expect for a film on
the scale of Cleopatra, that in
itself was quite a challenge. But the more I dipped into it the more amazed I
became: stars signed up for 10 weeks hanging round for 18 months in Rome. The
battles Darryl F. Zanuck fought to gain control of 20th Century Fox.
The Burton family’s determination to keep Richard’s marriage together…
I
suspect that my inspiration for a book was based on Steven Bach and Julie
Salamon’s books on Heavens Gate and Bonfire Of The Vanities – brilliant
books about terrible films. And for all its grandeur, Cleopatrais a terrible
film. But what a story in how it made it to the cinema screen.
It
was a five year journey: 20th Century Fox were keen to cash-in on
the success of MGMs Ben-Hur, and so dusted
down a 1917 script about the Queen of the Nile. It was intended as a $2,000,000
vehicle for Fox contract player Joan Collins with a 64-day shoot.
The
fact that the Theda Bara Cleo was a
silent film didn’t seem to worry the studio unduly. Five years later, and at a budget twenty times the original estimate, Cleopatra premiered.
Elizabeth
Taylor accounted for $1,000,000 of that budget, the first star to ask for – and
get! – that legendary seven figure sum. There was no finished script, but the
UK offered generous tax breaks, so Fox decided to construct a massive set of
the ancient port of Alexandria at Pinewood Studios. Shooting began in September
1961, the beginning of the English autumn. Some days it rained so heavily you
couldn’t see the other side of the set. Other days it was so cold, vapour was
coming out of the extras’ mouths. The imported pine tress had to be constantly
replaced because of the wind. The enormous sea tank containing a million
gallons was overflowing because of the rain.
The
original cast of Peter Finch (Caesar) and Stephen Boyd (Marc Antony) had to
quit due to existing commitments. The sky remained grey and gloomy.Trying to conjure up Mediterranean grandeur
was proving problematic. Ancient Alexandria in rural Buckinghamshire suddenly
seemed not such a good idea.
Eventually,
after two months the decision was made to pull the plug on the UK shoot. Eight
minutes of film ended up in the finished film, at a cost of nearly $8,000,000.
The question was: to write off such a sum (half of what Ben-Hur cost!) Or get a new director, script and stars and relocate
to begin filming again in Rome. At least in Italy you could be guaranteed good
weather, besides, what else could possibly go wrong?
As
Cinema Retro readers will know it all
went horribly wrong. Once in Rome, Cleopatra was far removed from the
Hollywood studio. In those pre-fax, email and text days, it was a cumbersome
business to arrange phone calls and telexes. The story of the romance between
Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor was only one of the factors whichdelayed the production of Cleopatra. Poor writer/director Joseph L. Mankiewicz was shooting
by day and writing the script by night. His original vision for the film was
two films, but the studio wanted something – anything – out to cash in on the Burton/ Taylor romance.
On
its release, Cleopatra was the most
successful film of 1963, but it took years to claw back its costs, and 20th
Century Fox was only saved by a modest little musical, The Sound Of Music, which came in at a sixth the cost of Cleopatra!
Like
many, I was of an age to be beguiled by the big-screen releases of the early
1960s. It's a cliché, but with only two UK black & white TV channels,
colour was a big deal. Especially in all its Todd-AO, stereophonic majesty. I’d
already lapped upThe Alamo,
Barabbas, King Of Kings, Ben-Hur, El Cid, How the West Was Won, The Guns of
Navarone, It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, Lawrence of Arabia, PT109, The Longest
Day, Mutiny on the Bounty, Spartacus, and Taras Bulba. Then came The Great Escape, Fall Of The Roman Empire,
55 Days At Peking, 633 Squadron… The glory days.
Finally seeing Cleopatra was a disappointment. It has spectacle, but
is somehow just not… spectacular. And
beware the Ides of March, because once Rex Harrison is gone, the film dips. Over
the years when I began reviewing and writing about films professionally, I kept
coming back to Cleopatra. How could
they have got it so wrong? And didn’t
they learn from their mistakes? Obviously not as flops like Dr Dolittle, Star! and Hello Dolly were overtaken by the likes
of The Graduate, Bonnie & Clyde, Easy
Rider…
You’d
think by now, the studios would have learned from their mistakes, but no, only
last year Warners announced that they’d written off their $100,00,000 Cat Woman. There is something rather
magnificent in the folly of Cleopatra.
But it is a hard watch. Far more enjoyable was The VIPs, made to cash-in
on the infamy of the Burtons.
For
those of a certain age, those epic films were emblematic. They were school
holiday treats at the London Astoria, the Dominion, the Metropole… Souvenir
brochures and Kia-Ora in hand as we sat open-mouthed as the screen was filled
with thousands and thousands of costumed extras, besieging the Alamo or Peking.
Even rewatching them on CD or Blu-Ray, the scale of those productions is jaw
dropping – and those were all humans occupying those Roman forums and besieged
cities, not generated by a computer. And here’s
a thought… a profile of that maverick producer Samuel L. Bronston is long
overdue.
Cleopatra all
but finished the career of J.L. Mankiewicz, it took the studio to the cleaners,
and was a body blow from which the old Hollywood never really recovered. It is
hard to be fond of it as a film, but what happened offscreen gave me a
fantastic opportunity to recall those extravagant days. When even a film as
flawed as Cleopatra was made on a
scale which had to be witnessed with an audience. At a cinema near you…
There is little left to marvel at in
the Marvel Comic Universe.
There just aren’t stars like Burton and Taylor today. For all its manifold flaws,
there is something compelling about the legend of Cleopatra. Not so much in the finished film, but my memories of
cinema-going when a film like that was an event.For all its follies, a film like Cleopatra could almost be said to end an
era of cinematic innocence. My research into what went on off the screen, and
what it took to get it into cinemas was fascinating. They have done it with The Godfather, so maybe a TV series
about the making of Cleopatra. Now that would make a great movie.
Photo: Courtesy of Patrick Humphries.
"Cleopatra & The Undoing Of
Hollywood" is published by The History Press, £20.00, ISBN 9781803990187
The
1957 romantic comedy, The Prince and the Showgirl has likely received
more press about what went on behind the scenes and the notorious animosity
that existed between the two stars, Marilyn Monroe and Laurence Olivier. The
latter was also producer and director of the picture, although the production
company was the first title made by the newly-formed Marilyn Monroe
Productions. The 2011 picture (was it that long ago?), My Week with Marilyn,
featuring Michelle Williams and Kenneth Branagh, depicted the stormy relationship
between Monroe and Olivier and how Monroe behaved rather, well, erratically and
irrationally toward her director/co-star, other actors, the cinematographer,
the costumer, and nearly everyone else on the set. The actress even brought
something of a “support coach” with her every day in the form of Paula
Strasberg, who, with her husband Lee, ran the Actors Studio.
Unless
one had actually seen the real movie, The Prince and the Showgirl,
one came away from My Week with Marilyn with the impression that Monroe
was a mess, that Olivier hated her guts, and that the movie they made was a
disaster.
The
Prince and the Showgirl is actually a charming, well-acted, funny, and
touching piece of work. This reviewer is happy to say that Marilyn Monroe is marvelous
in the role of Elsie Marina, a chorus line showgirl of a musical playing in
London’s West End in 1911, when the picture takes place. Monroe displays impressive
comic timing and wit, does a pratfall or two with aplomb, and categorially
holds her own against the likes of renowned thespian Olivier. He, too, is quite
winning, even though his accent as a “Carpathian” prince regent (from the
Balkans) sometimes causes one’s eyebrows to rise. But make no mistake—this
movie belongs to Monroe, and this reviewer would easily cite her performance
here ranked in her top five.
Funny
how the bad rep of a movie and its making clouds what one really sees on the
screen.
Granted,
The Prince and the Showgirl was received with lukewarm praise upon its
release. The BAFTAs honored it with several nominations, including Actor,
“Foreign” Actress, Screenplay, and British Film. It received no Academy Award
nominations. The film did very well in the UK, likely due to Olivier’s presence.
Perhaps the picture’s indifferent reception in the USA was due to its rather
slow pace, length (a few minutes under two hours), and the fact that the story
takes place mostly in static one-room sequences of the Carpathian Embassy.
That’s not surprising, because the movie is based on a stage play, The
Sleeping Prince, by Terrence Rattigan, who also penned the screenplay.
Perhaps Rattigan adhered too closely to the conventions of the stage. All of
these things are indeed flaws in the motion picture.
Still…
this is a worthwhile romantic comedy on the strength of the two leads,
especially Monroe’s luminous performance. Not only does she look fantastic, as
always, but she truly does light up the screen with charisma, warmth, and
delight. Other standouts in the cast would include Richard Wattis, who nearly
steals the movie as the frustrated foreign office suit who is charged with
keeping the prince happy during his stay in London, Sybil Thorndike as the
prince’s dowdy but often frank mother-in-law, and Jeremy Spenser as the
prince’s son, King Nicolas, who to this reviewer resembles what Quentin
Tarantino might have looked like at the age of sixteen.
The
Warner Archive has released a region-free, beautifully rendered, restored presentation of
the feature film in high definition. That 1950s-era Technicolor pops out, and
the costumes are undeniably gorgeous. Unfortunately, the only supplement on the
disk is the theatrical trailer.
The
Prince and the Showgirl is enthusiastically recommended for fans of Marilyn
Monroe. Fans of Olivier, who does what he can when someone so appealing is
sharing the screen with him, will find it interesting. For this reviewer’s
money, The Prince and the Showgirl is far more enjoyable than My Week
with Marilyn, which now seems to be a rather sordid coda to this romantic
comedy bauble.
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Here is some rare footage of stars arriving for the Hollywood charity premiere of MGM's Cinerama classic "How the West Was Won". It's probably the only chance you'll ever get to see Walter Brennan clad in a tuxedo!
On March 31, 1931 Variety
reported that Paramount had secured, for an undisclosed sum, the sound rights
to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde from the estate
of Robert Louis Stevenson.Stevenson’s
classic short story of 1886, Strange Case
of Dr. Jekylland Mr. Hyde, had
already been filmed by Paramount as a well-regarded 1920 silent featuring John
Barrymore. But it was curious to some industry watchers why Paramount went to
the trouble to secure rights: the novella was, after all, already in U.S.
public domain status.
Though true, it soon became apparent why Paramount’s
legal team wisely chose a formal rights lockdown.One week following the studio’s announcement
– to feature actor Fredric March in the titular double-role – a British
filmmaker, I.E. Chadwick (described by Variety
as “an independent producer inactive three years”), announced he too was planning a sound version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.Chadwick’s competing version would not see
the light of day.On June 23, the trades
reported his production had been summarily derailed by Paramount’s buying out all
British rights to the story.
Though Fredric March was touted as Paramount’s new Dr.
Jekyll as early as April 1931, a challenger would soon surface.On May 12, Variety picked up on a syndicated Hollywood gossip report that Paramount
was interested in having John Barrymore reprise the role.Though a Barrymore reconsideration seemed an
unlikely prospect, on May 5, Louela O. Parsons of the Motion Picture Editor
Universal Services teased that Paramount was looking to woo Barrymore from Warner
Bros. for their new “talkie” version of Hyde.
It’s altogether possible that Parsons, an old friend of
Barrymore’s, was sending out a trial balloon on the actor’s behalf.Barrymore’s contract with Warner Bros. had in
fact not been renewed following completion of Michael Curtiz’s The Mad Genius in May of 1931.The high- salaried and hard drinking actor
was now casting about for new work and a new contract.Warner Bros. was already expressing
unhappiness with the dwindling box office appeal of the former matinee
idol.In the final tally, Barrymore’s last
two pictures for Warner’s, The Mad Genius
and its predecessor Svengali (1931),
had combined for revenue losses totaling a reported half-million dollars.Following his ousting, Variety was kinder in their assessment of the actor’s continuing public
appeal, reporting only that, “Sales reports on Barrymore have been mild.”
There had to be a measure of professional disappointment
on Barrymore’s part.While Fredric March’s
star was in the ascendant, his own was dimming.March, an equally handsome and talented actor, had even played a
thinly-disguised character based on Barrymore in both the stage and film
versions of The Royal Family of Broadway.
Barrymore was good-naturedly impressed by March’s gift of impersonation and
mimicry.Following his attendance at a
stage performance of The Royal Family of
Broadway, Barrymore conceded March’s performance had captured, “my
mannerisms, exaggerated but true to life.”
But by May’s end it was clear that Barrymore would not be
returning to the Jekyll/Hyde role.Gossiper
Parson sourly rued that while, “never has any actor had more matinee fans
flocking to his side than our John, […] the flapper age yearns for Fredric
March and Paramount knows it.”In fact,
“flapper” appeal aside, March wasn’t the first pick of Paramount co-founder Adolph
Zukor or of West coast studio boss B.P. Schulberg.Paramount’s front-office had initially considered
either Barrymore or contract actor Irving Pichel considered for the role.But director Rouben Mamoulian insisted that
while the naturally sinister-looking Pichel might have made a suitable Mr.
Hyde, he simply couldn’t convincingly pull off the handsome, pheromone-inducing
romantic that was Dr. Jekyll.
It was a bold if immovable position for Mamoulian to
take.The director had only recently
signed with Paramount, delivering two Pre-Code pictures of modest success: Applause (1929) and City Streets (1931).He had also
boldly demanded – and was granted - a stipulation in his contract that he be
given extended leave-of-absences from Paramount so he could continue working on
Broadway back in his beloved New York City.Stagecraft aside, Mamoulian did possess an eye for filmmaking.Upon the news that Mamoulian was to direct Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the editors of Film Weekly cheered, calling him, “a
wizard with the camera.”They promised
the Mamoulian Dr. Jekyll, “promises
to outdo even the weirdness of the celebrated “Dr. Caligari.”
March was to return to Hollywood from Astoria, Queens,
New York, to begin production of Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde directly following work on George Abbott’s Morals and Marriage (later re-titled as My Sin).Production on Jekyll was originally
slated to commence on August 3, though delays seemingly caused a schedule push-back
to September 1935.
In August it was announced one of March’s doomed victims,
Ivy Pierson, was to be played by the fetching blond ingénue Miriam Hopkins,
just off her assignment playing opposite Maurice Chevalier in Ernst Lubitsch’s The Smiling Lieutenant. By late summer
nearly all of the film’s principal and auxiliary players had been cast: Rose
Hobart, Edgar Norton, and Halliwell Hobbes among them.This was to be a production of major
scope.There were reports that Paramount
was planning the hire of some six hundred screen extras, with as many as
eighty-one to be given speaking parts.Both of those estimates were certainly possible: the film features large
crowds attending both prim society dinner parties and déclassé backstreet
London music halls.
To successfully mount such an unwieldy production,
director Mamoulian desperately wanted a trusted assistant, in this case Robert
Lee, to help him out.Though the trades
reported Lee had only recently been given “full director” status at Paramount, the
budding helmsman agreed to put off this promotion – an opportunity which was,
sadly, not offered again.Mamoulian’s
direction was – as always - nothing if not inventive, with Karl Strauss’s acrobatic
camera roaming restlessly through POV tracking shoots, half-screen swipes and
the sorts of extreme close-ups later found in Sergio Leone films.
Though some film historians and fans believe – not
unreasonably – that John S. Robertson’s silent version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was the more groundbreaking effort, few
would argue that Mamoulian’s was the finest of the several sound versions that
would follow.Though the various film
adaptations were not always true to Stevenson’s original storyline, they were
far more cinematic in presentation.Following
in the wake of Universal’s horrific caricatures of Dracula and Frankenstein,
Paramount chose to eschew the original tale’s Jekyll’s split-psychologic
dichotomies and instead highlight Mr. Hyde’s physical appearance as a hideous, feral
beast.Mamoulian’s film was also
envelope-pushing in its Pre-Code depictions of implied - and sometimes more-
than-implied – scenes of on-screen debauchery and salacious sexuality.
The iconic make-up conjured by Wally Westmore for March’s
Hyde was certainly top-notch, as great as anything Jack Pierce had conjured for
Universal.Newspaper accounts contemporary
to the film’s production suggested March withstood nearly two-hundred hours in both
Westmore’s make-up chair and on set for the filming of the “eight” mind-blowing
transformation sequences expertly rigged by Mamaoulian and Struss. (If eight
transformations were photographed as reported, only six would make pass the
film’s final cut, the final one a mostly unconvincing time-lapse).
It was later revealed by Strauss that the justifiably
famous transformation sequences near the film’s beginnings had been created by a
novel use of panchromatic film stock and a blend of colored filters.Strauss was certainly the man for this
particular photographic effect.The
cinematographer had had already earned a well-deserved Academy Award for his photographic
work on F.W. Murnau’s German Expressionism masterpiece Sunrise (1927). Upon completion of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’s fifty-one shooting days, Mamoulian celebrated
in style, throwing a huge party for the film’s cast and crew members at
Hollywood’s swanky Russian-American club.
Mamoulian’s Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was released during Christmas week of 1931.It was off to a good start, though
Universal’s Frankenstein (released
November 21, 1931) was still holding strong at cinema box-offices.Paramount brass continued to hold their
collective breaths through mid-January to see if Jekyll might have the same staying power.The film proved that it had, ultimately
bringing in earnings that made it one of studio’s highest grossing successes of
1932.One casualty of the runaway
box-office successes of Frankenstein
and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was, sadly
and ironically, Barrymore’s The Mad
Genius, released only a couple of weeks previous to the former.It’s interesting to note that both Frankenstein and The Mad Genius featured a struggling, middle-aged actor who would
receive absolutely no screen credit for the latter and only back-end credits of
the former – Boris Karloff.
Though Paramount would never become the fright-factory
that Universal was in the 1930s and 1940s, the studio would follow Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with a few genre
classics and semi-classics of their own:Island of Lost Souls (1932), Murders in the Zoo (1934) and The Monster and the Girl (1941).No subsequent Paramount horror other than Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde would earn the
prestige of the Academy however.The
film would earn no fewer than three Oscar nominations at the 1932 ceremony
(Best Actor, Best Cinematography and Best Adaptive Writing).But only March would walk off with the
coveted trophy in the first category.
This Warner Bros. Archive Collection issue of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is presented in
1080p High Definition 16x9 with an aspect 1.19:1 and in DTS-HD Master 2.0 mono
audio.The film looks brilliant; if
there was a single visual on-screen blemish, it escaped my notice.Ported over from the film’s digital DVD issue
of 2004 is a commentary by Author/Film Historian Greg Mank and the Friz
Freleng/Bugs Bunny/Looney Tunes cartoon
short Hyde and Hare (1955).New to this Region-free Blu-ray set is a second impressive commentary featuring
screenwriter Steve Haberman and filmmaker Constantine Nasr.A very
special feature included is a Theatre Guild of America radio play of the tale,
first broadcast on November 19, 1950. This
radio show is of particular interest since it finds Fredric March reprising his
role as Jekyll/Hyde nearly twenty-years on, with Barbara Bel Geddes and Hugh
Williams assisting in the principal supporting roles.Essential.
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Israeli Actor Chaim Topol, known professionally as Topol, has passed away at age 87. The official cause of death is said to be the effects of Alzheimer's Disease. He was born in Tel Aviv in 1935 and grew up in a modest family setting. He began performing during a stint in the Israeli army. In 1964, the 29 year-old landed the leading role in the acclaimed Israeli film satire "Sallah Shabati", which was nominated for the Best Foreign Film Oscar. It also gained Topol a Golden Globe award for Most Promising Male Newcomer. It set the pattern for the young actor to excel at playing characters far older than his actual age. In 1966, he was cast in a major Hollywood production- Kirk Douglas's "Cast a Giant Shadow", which chronicled the battles surrounding the founding of the state of Israel as seen through the eyes of American Army officer Mickey Marcus, played by Douglas, who played a key role in establishing the Israeli military as a fighting force. Topol had a plum role in a film that featured supporting performances by such heavyweights as John Wayne, Frank Sinatra and Yul Brynner.
Topol had first played his signature role of the Russian milkman Tevye in the stage musical "Fiddler on the Roof" in Israel at age thirty, even though the character was much older. He had seen Zero Mostel's acclaimed starring role in the production on Broadway, little dreaming that he would follow in his footsteps. However, in 1967, producer Hal Prince cast Topol in the part for the West End stage production in London. The show was a smash hit and Topol was on his way to stardom. He would eventually play the role in the Broadway revival in the early 1990s, earning a Tony Award nomination. However, most people became acquainted with him through director Norman Jewison's 1971 big screen musical adaptation. The film bucked the recent trend of high-priced screen musicals bombing and became a major hit, with Topol getting a Best Actor Oscar nomination. (He lost to Gene Hackman for "The French Connection".) He appeared as a villain in the 1980 film "Flash Gordon". In 1981, he was cast as the mysterious and charismatic Greek smuggler Columbo opposite Roger Moore in the James Bond film "For Your Eyes Only". His genuine chemistry with Moore would make him one of the more popular Bond allies in the film series' history. He would also appear in the mega-budget TV productions of "The Winds of War" and "War and Remembrance".
The Cinerama Releasing Co. was in its seventh year of film
distribution in 1973.The distributor
had earned a reputation in the industry for working successfully with producers
to distribute independent films.Such business
partnerships had proven beneficial to both parties.In 1973 Cinerama scored big with two
modest-budget indie hits: Michael Campus’s Blaxploitation pic The Mack (1973) and Phil Karlson’s Walking Tall (1973).Since the horror film genre was a (mostly) dependable
box office gamble for low-budget film productions, Cinerama scored handsomely
in 1972 with the domestically produced Willard
rat-fest and the decidedly more up-scale and colorfully creepy Amicus-import Tales from the Crypt.
Hoping to continue to capitalize on this successful
trend, Cinerama was preparing to distribute a slate of new horrors in 1973: the
British Amicus production And Now the
Screaming Starts, the U.S. produced mystery-horror Terror in the Wax Museum, and indie Freedom Art’s Doctor Death.Box
Office reported in September of 1973, that Cinerama had only recently acquired
the rights to Doctor Death.It promised the film would showcase “optical
effects unseen before on screen... the illusion of souls passing from one body
to another.”That was they called ballyhoo.We’d actually seen it all before, as the effects
offered in Doctor Death had been
present as early as the silent film era.Doctor Death, whose full title
is actually Doctor Death: Seeker of Souls,
was the brainchild of producer/director Eddie Saeta and associate producer/screenwriter
Sal Ponti.It was the latter’s first
(and only) produced screenplay. Ponti worked mostly – if infrequently - as a
film actor and occasional songwriter.In
contrast, director Saeta had a long-running career in Hollywood, working on
studio lots and behind the camera from 1937 on.He was second generation Hollywood.Saeta’s dad had worked in the electrical department for Columbia Pictures
from the late 1920s on.
It was through his father’s connections that Eddie Saeta worked
as a messenger for Columbia studio chief Harry Cohn.He worked his way through the ranks,
ultimately serving as an assistant or 2nd unit director for such
studios as Columbia and Monogram.He mostly
assisted in churning out such low-budget fares as westerns, East Side Kids
films and even The Three Stooges in Orbit
(1962).(That latter film explains the
curious and brief walk through of septuagenarian Moe Howard in Doctor Death).In his later years, Saeta also worked
extensively as an AD on television. Eagle-eyed James Bond fans might also
recognize Saeta’s name from his front end credit as co-Location Manager for
1971’s Diamonds are Forever.
Ponti’s original script wasn’t uninteresting in
concept.Distraught over the loss of his
wife in a deadly automobile accident he blames on himself, Dr. Fred Saunders
(Barry Coe) goes to great lengths to see her revived by supernatural means.He visits her corpse daily where she lies in
state in a conveniently unlocked crypt.Though his friend Greg (Stewart Moss) presses, “For God sake, let Laura
rest in peace!” Fred is unable to do so.He visits any number of charlatans who profess revivification but who
are unable to deliver on their promises.
Things change when Fred meets Tana (Florence Marley) who
professes the greatness of an ex-magician known as “Doctor Death” (John
Considine). She describes the not-so-good Doctor as, “The genius of all ages,
the man who has conquered death.” The problem with Doctor Death is that while
he’s actually pretty good in his practice of “selective reincarnation,” he also
displays many characteristics you’d prefer your resurrectionist to not have: he’s a pompous, selfish,
sadistic, pervert with a necrophilic bent.
He’s also a vampire… of a sort.We learn Doctor Death is more than a thousand
year’s old.He sustains himself not on
the feeding of blood of his victims, but by the absorption of their souls.Dracula, of course, is Dracula.He too may be a thousand or so years old, but
he manages to retain his original physical appearance through the centuries.As someone who absorbs the souls of others,
Doctor Death conversely takes on the physical appearance of whomever his latest
victim might be.Through his soul
absorptions, the doctor has appeared over centuries in any number of multi-racial,
multi-ethic and transgender forms.The
problem facing the grieving Fred is that Doctor Death, the heralded “genius of
all ages,” has been unable to rustle up a suitable fresh corpse to transpose
its soul to that of the still very dead Linda.Which was sort of the point of Fred’s hiring him.
Doctor
Death was released in November of 1973, the film
unflatteringly described by one critic as, “one of a handful of year end
grotesqueries being dumped into theaters like a movie distributor’s version of
a clearance table.”The reviews of Doctor Death were, in fact, mostly poor
to middling.A Pittsburgh Press critic offered, the picture looked “like a grainy
blow-up of a 16mm film and with the sort of flat soundtrack that usually
accompanies porno films, this would-be horror item is horrible in ways not
intended.”But I’d say such criticism is
a bit unfair.Though the film’s Colorlab visuals are dark and gritty,
this is after all an early 1970s production.Some of the film’s exterior’s sequences were photographed in and around
Los Angeles’s Sunset Boulevard.It was
intended to appear a bit seedy.
I’d argue the cinematography of Emil Oster and Kent
Wakeford – both pros - was at least on par with such contemporary L.A. based horror-themed
productions as The Night Stalker, the
Count Yorga and Blacula films, and TV’s Night
Gallery. In any case, if one’s nostalgic for the 1970s, this film is for
you.The first-half of the decade is duly
represented by telltale flashes of ‘70s hairstyles and clothing, of gaudy apartment
furnishings and oversize gas-guzzling automobiles.
Doctor
Death is occasionally defended as a misunderstood horror-comedy.That’s a bit of a stretch though it’s clear
that Ponti’s script did try to lace his tale with a sprinkling of graveyard
humor.The problem is that the satire,
as written, is just too subtle (or perhaps so poorly played throughout) that
many critics missed this angle.Variety thought the film too
melodramatic and this, they reckoned, is what invoked “unconscious laughs” by
those attending.But perhaps some of
those chuckles were intentional.The Louisville
Courier-Journal, on the other hand, saw no humor in the film at all.They lambasted, “A new horror has been
released from the creaky medieval dungeons, and to tell the honest truth, [it]
should have stayed there.”
Well, I disagree. Doctor Death, while no classic, does
manage to offer ninety-minutes of dark entertainment and a smile or two.The Los
Angeles Times was one of the few newspapers to recognize the film’s lighter
aspects, describing Doctor Death as a
“silly but kinda cute and ultimately entertaining spoof” of the horror-pic biz -
with Considine playing the role of an “ersatz John Carradine.”The San
Francisco Examiner also noted Doctor
Death was, in essence, “a gruesome horror film that tries unsuccessfully to
equate merriment with slaughter.”“The
film sustains a certain amount of suspense,” its critic conceded.“But its unpleasant theme is quite repellant,
especially in sequences that suggest Considine’s necrophilic [sic] persuasion.”
New York’s Independent
Film Journal thought Considine’s performance, “rampantly theatrical, and
that’s not a help because he isn’t rampantly hammy as well.And it would take an actor as overblown as
Vincent Price to get some good fun into the good doctor.” This is a pretty prescient observation.Throughout Doctor Death, I also reflected on how Considine’s cool portrayal of
the loathsome magician-turned-resurrectionist was simply off.He was OK when the role tasked him to be manipulative
and sinister, but the absence of black-comedy winks are also painfully in evidence.It would
have taken someone of Vincent Price’s caliber to pull it off.Price had, managed to successfully mix horror
and humor a decade earlier in such earlier productions as Roger Corman’s The Raven (1963) and Jacques Tourneur’s The Comedy of Terrors (1963).And, of course, in the more recent and devilishly
tongue-in-cheek horror classic Theatre of
Blood.
It’s of some interest to note that Price was about to play
a character named “Dr. Death” in the forthcoming Amicus/A.I.P. co- production
of Madhouse (1974).It’s likely had Saeta’s flick not beaten Madhouse to the gate, the Price film
might even have been released under it’s working title: The Revenge of Dr. Death.It’s almost certain the poor box-office reception of Cinerama’s Doctor Death was part of the decision of
the Madhouse team’s intent to re-title
and separate their new Vincent Price/Peter Cushing vehicle far from Saeta’s
bargain basement production.
It’s also worth noting that even Cinerama and
theater-owners thought Doctor Death not
strong enough to stand alone.The film
wasn’t playing on many upscale first-run screens, the picture almost completely
relegated to grindhouses and west-coast drive-ins.Depending on the market, Doctor Death was part of a double or triple feature bill.These combo-bills mixed newish pics (Scream, Blacula, Scream (1973) and The Legend of Hell House (1973), with psychological
thrillers and mysteries (Scream, Baby,
Scream (1969), The Butcher
(1970), Bluebeard (1972), The Other (1972) and A Name for Evil (1973).The film was also paired with an assortment
of horror pictures on their second and third runs: (Count Yorga, Vampire (1970), Countess
Dracula (1971), Lady Frankenstein
(1971), The House That Dripped Blood (1971)
and Asylum (1972).There were even a few golden oldies sprinkled
into the bills when prints were available: (The
Pit and the Pendulum (1964) and the incongruous A Long Ride from Hell (1968), a spaghetti western with Steve (Hercules)
Reeves.
Even with such support, the box-office of Doctor Death was mostly weak.In its first week of screenings in San
Francisco, the film pulled in a mere $4,500.When the film rolled out regionally, it pulled in only $2,500 on its
first week Pittsburgh, but did slightly better in Detroit with a take of
$4,000.But as Christmas week
approached, even the Detroit sank to $2,500.The film did some surprising first week receipts in Chicago with a gross
of $30,000.It might have been helpful
that in Chicago the film had been paired as a double with the old school mystery
Terror in the Wax Museum: a film featuring
familiar faces (Ray Milland, Elsa Lanchester, John Carradine and Broderick
Crawford). Regardless, the combo’s take in the Windy City dropped to $16,500 on
week two and (as per Variety) a “tepid”
$10,000 of earnings on week three.Though the film seemed destined to play New York City’s “Deuce” strip on
its initial run, by mid-January of 1974, Doctor
Death would only made it to screens near the upper regions of New York
State before disappearing completely from sight.
In any event, the folks at Scorpion Releasing are making
sure that Doctor Death doesn’t
disappear from your home video screen. This release, taken from a 2015
High-Definition master from the Original Camera Negative is as good as it
likely will ever look.The special
features include both an audio commentary and separate interview with actor
John Considine, as well the reminiscences of director Eddie’s son, Steve.The set arounds out with the film’s trailer
and a “new” light-hearted introduction courtesy of Doctor Death himself.I suggest fans of 1970s fringy horror make
their appointment with doctor.
One
of the most talked-about and popular films of 1968 was Franco Zeffirelli’s
adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Audiences in the
UK were treated to the film early in the year (March), but the release date in
the USA was held back to October. By then, the picture was a worldwide phenomenon.
Nino Rota’s theme song (known in various markets as “Love Theme from Romeo
and Juliet,” “A Time for Us,” and “What is a Youth?”) had been covered by
numerous musical artists and was already a standard on the radio and other
media.
A
British-Italian co-production, the picture’s creative team consisted of mostly
Italians, while the production/financing and actors hailed largely from Britain
(with some Italian actors being dubbed into English). Director Zeffirelli had
already enjoyed some success with his earlier Shakespearean adaptation, The
Taming of the Shrew (1967, with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton). It
made box-office sense for the filmmaker to go a step further and bring more
Shakespeare to the masses.
Zeffirelli
made a canny decision to cast two young actors who were the same ages of the
characters in the play. Productions of Romeo and Juliet in the past had
always cast actors who were well into their thirties and beyond (the most
notable being the 1936 George Cukor-helmed picture featuring Leslie Howard and
Norma Shearer). Leonard Whiting and Olivia Hussey were 16 and 15, respectively,
when they were cast, and 17 and 16 during filming. Not only were the two stars
extremely attractive and likable, they were also competent and charismatic
performers as well.
The
film captured the zeitgeist of 1968—an era of youth rebellion, “free love,” and
pushing the envelope in the arts. There was much ado of how Zeffirelli and his
co-screenwriters (Franco Brusati and Masolino D’Amico) cut massive portions
from Shakespeare’s text in order to release a movie that ran a little over two
hours (and with an intermission, too, to mimic the experience of a stage play).
Schools in America organized field trips to see the film, because for once,
Shakespeare had been made “commercial.” Some markets, however, made cuts in the
film to eliminate the brief nudity in the bedroom scene. This reviewer recalls
that in West Texas, two different versions of the film played. The picture was
released prior to the creation of the movie ratings system in America, but by
the time it ran in West Texas, the ratings were in effect. The cinema where Romeo
and Juliet was shown in late 1968 or early 1969 arbitrarily exhibited a
censored “M” (for Mature Audiences) rated version during matinees, and an “R”
(for Restricted Audiences) version in the evenings. All this seems rather silly
in retrospect, because the film is, at worst, a “PG” in today’s rating
sensibilities.
Filmed
on location in Italy, the movie is gorgeous to look at (with Oscar winning
cinematography and costumes by Pasqualino De Santis and Danilo Donati,
respectively). As mentioned previously, the now classic score by Nino Rota had
a great deal to do with the movie’s success. One must give Zeffirelli his due,
though (he was nominated for Best Director but didn’t win). His direction of
the film is superb, not only in guiding his two young stars into intense,
utterly believable performances, but especially in the street brawls and sword fighting
scenes. The sequence in which Romeo and Tybalt (Michael York) have at it is
appropriately awkward, messy, and realistically choreographed.
The
Criterion Collection has released a lovely Blu-ray disk (the first time in the
USA and UK for a Blu-ray, although the film has been available on a Paramount DVD
for years). The 4K digital restoration, with an uncompressed monaural
soundtrack, looks magnificent with its expected 1960s-era film stock
appearance. Supplements include an excerpt from a 2018 documentary on
Zeffirelli, and interviews with stars Whiting and Hussey from 1967 after
filming was complete and in 2016 at a retrospective screening.
Whiting
and Hussey have recently made the news by filing a lawsuit against the studio for
allegedly being pushed by Zeffirelli (now deceased) into doing the brief nudity.
Interestingly, in the 2016 interview on the disk, they joke about the bedroom
scene as “being fun” and there are interviews with the couple in recent years in
which they defend the nude scenes as appropriate to the material. It will be
interesting to see how this all plays out in the legal proceedings.
Regardless,
Criterion’s release of Romeo and Juliet on Blu-ray is a landmark
presentation of a classic, beloved motion picture. It is perhaps the definitive
adaptation of Shakespeare’s play on film, and the disk is highly recommended
for fans of the Bard, the play itself, Nino Rota’s music, Zeffirelli, and the
two stars who light up the screen. As Romeo says of Juliet, “O, she doth teach
the torches to burn bright.” They both do.
Anne
Francis was director John Sturges’ only female actor in 1955’s “Bad Day at
Black Rock”, and she repeated her solo act ten years later on “The Satan Bug”.
But on that production, she and many cast members felt a preoccupation, a
distance, from the man who held together “The Magnificent Seven” and “The Great
Escape”. Francis was certain “He was thinking about “The Hallelujah Trail”.
This was Sturges’ next production, his entry into the world of roadshow
presentations; a mammoth production with a huge cast and even huger backdrop:
Gallup, New Mexico.
Bill Gulick’s 1963 novel, originally titled “The Hallelujah Train”, seemed a
perfect story to upend all western movie conventions, with the cavalry, the
Indians, the unions, and the Temperance Movement fighting over the
transportation of forty wagons of whiskey. Sturges was comfortable making westerns,
but this was a comedy western. He appreciated the Mirisch Corporation’s vision
of straight actors trying to make sense of the silliness, but still wanted to
persuade James Garner, Lee Marvin and Art Carney for major roles. Sturges knew
these actors could handle comedy.
Garner
passed. “The premise was too outrageous, not enough truth to be funny”, he
said. The rest of Sturges’ dream cast was not available, but what he got seemed
attractive: a pair of solid supporting actors, Jim Hutton and Pamela Tiffin,
and Lee Remick and Burt Lancaster for the leads. Lancaster had previously
worked with Sturges on “Gunfight at the O.K. Corral” and was impressed how the
film turned out. The rest of the supporting cast included Donald Pleasence,
Brian Keith, and Martin Landau. They were in for a tough shoot.
The
weather was unpredictable (you can spot thunderstorms heading their way in the
finished film) and the location had three hundred crew members miles away from
the hotels. Scenes contained countless stunts, and fifty tons of Fuller’s earth
was blown by several giant fans to create The Battle at Whiskey Hills. Bruce
Surtees, son of Sturges’ cinematographer Robert Surtees and focus-puller on the
set, recalled “All this and we’re shooting in Ultra-Panavision 70mm, which made
life even more difficult!” Despite the difficulties, the director was loving
what he saw on set; the film looked as breathtaking as any wide screen western
ever could, the stunts were amazing, and thank God he was also laughing all
through it.
The
hilarity was cut short near the end of the shooting. For the sprawling wagon
chase finale, stunt persons Buff Brady and Bill Williams convinced associate
producer Robert Relyea to let them delay their jump from inside a catapulted
coach. Permission was given, and in the attempt, Williams got tangled somehow
during his planned escape. He was killed instantly. Relyea nixed including the footage in the finished film, but was overruled by
Mirisch. It’s an incredible shot and it plays in every promotional trailer, probably the
most famous footage from the production. Was including it a bad decision or a
tribute? There is still a debate over this among retro movie fans.
“We
all thought it was going to be a hit picture”, said Sturges, “until we hit an
audience.” “The Hallelujah Trail” opened with a 165-minute cut that audiences and critics
found “belabored and overlong”. Sturges overheard some patrons wondering if
this was a straight western or a deliberate comedy. Screenwriter John Gay
blamed much of the response on the performances of Brian Keith and Donald Pleasence.
Gay wanted his lines played straight but the actors played it for laughs. The
film was soon cut to 156-minutes (the version on this Blu-ray) and the
reactions were much more positive; critics noted several inspired sight gags,
audiences enjoyed the cartoonish atmosphere of the DePatie-Freleng maps,
Variety found the film “beautifully packaged”, and the LA Times proclaimed “The
Hallelujah Trail” as “one of the very few funny westerns ever made, and
possibly the funniest.”
When the film finished its roadshow run, United Artists cut the film once more,
to 145-minutes. It didn’t help. Compared to “Cat Ballou” and even “F Troop”,
“The Hallelujah Trail” was unhip.Sturges
was done with comedy, but not with roadshow Cinerama, though his future films would have checkered histories. He was set to direct
“Grand Prix” but clashed with the original star, Steve McQueen. A year later
Gregory Peck turned down Sturges’ “Ice Station Zebra’, wary of its weak third
act. Rock Hudson, now middle-aged and wanting a strong lead role, came aboard
for this Sturges voyage instead. The MGM release still had a confusing third
act, but the film sails nicely mostly due to Patrick McGoohan and some clever
dialogue.
Decades
later, “The Hallelujah Trail” remains a nice memory to those who attended the
Cinerama presentation; not much greatness to retain but a great experience at
the movies. But that experience was tough to relive because the film remained
in legacy format limbo for years: a letterboxed standard definition transfer.
So when Olive Films announced a Blu-ray release in 2019, fans of comedy epics
sung Hallelujah! Now this film can be viewed in 1080P! Retreat! Unfortunately, the quality of the Olive release resembled an upscaled version of the original standard
definition transfer. But two years later “The Hallelujah Trail” was casually
spotted on Amazon Prime, and it was a new HD transfer. And a year after that,
it’s a new Kino Lorber Blu-ray release.
(Above: Dell U.S. comic book tie-in.)
Any
Cinema-Retro reader worth their Cinerama Chops should have this Blu-ray in
their collection. “The Hallelujah Trail” is an hour too long, but you get miles
of lovely landscape. My favorite portrayal? Donald Pleasence as Oracle, who predicts the future in
return for free drinks. And watch for his amazing jump off a roof! Certainly,
the most impressive part of the film is the finale: the runaway wagon chase.
There are sections where you swear it’s Remick, Keith and Landau handling those
coaches but you know it has to be well made-up stunt people, at least for most
of it. You’re also realizing that this sequence, and perhaps the entire film,
is performed without any process work or rear projection.
There’s a legitimate debate on how the film may have been more successful if
James Garner played the role of Colonel Gearhart, though only Lancaster could
have pulled off that bathtub smile scene. There’s no disagreement on the music;
Elmer Bernstein’s sprawling score contains so many themes that Sturges’
biographer Glenn Lovell qualifies the film as “almost a pre-“Paint Your Wagon”
musical." And here’s your tiniest “Trail”
trivia: decades ago, during the production
of the laserdisc version, MGM/UA discovered that a few reels were mono sound
instead of multi-channel, including the main title featuring the chorus. Yours
truly was working on a project for the company at the time, and I happily lent
them my stereo score LP. so the main title would be in stereo. That audio track
mix remains on this new Blu-ray as well. (You’re welcome, America!)
Kino
Lorber is kind enough to provide some expert guides to help you along the “Trail”:
the perfect pairing of screenwriter C. Courtney Joyner and filmmaker/historian
Michael Schlesinger. Joyner had already provided his Sturges bonafides with his
documentary on the director for the recent Imprint Blu-ray of “Marooned”, and I
can verify Schlesinger’s knowledge of film comedy, having been fortunate to
join him, along with Mark Evanier, for the commentary track on Criterion’s
“It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World”. Joyner and Schlesinger tackle and
acknowledge “The Hallelujah Trail”s social and political incorrectness, but
also deflate any virtue signaling by examining how the film is smartly an equal
opportunity offender: the Cavalry, the Indians, the Temperance Movement, all up
for farce. Thanks to this team, and the picture quality of this Blu-ray, I
finally spotted the gag of the Indians circling the wagons as the cavalry is
whooping and hollering. Both gents are in a fine fun mood to tackle this type
of film, and It’s one of my favorite film commentaries of 2022.
“The
Hallelujah Trail” now looks clearer and sharper than any previous home video
release, and somehow it makes the comedy and the performances sharper as well.
I think you’ll be entertained by this roadshow epic, and with Joyner and
Schlesinger as your commentary companions you may indeed learn, as the posters
proclaimed, “How the West Was Fun!”
"Gun the Man Down" is yet another Poverty Row low-budget Western shot
during an era in which seemingly every other feature film released was a
horse opera. Supposedly shot in nine days, the film is primarily
notable for being the big screen directing debut of Andrew V. McLaglen,
who would go on to be a very respected director who specialized in
Westerns and action films. The movie also marked the final feature film
for James Arness before he took on the role of Marshall Matt Dillon in
TV's long-running and iconic "Gunsmoke" series. After failing to achieve
stardom on the big screen, Arness found fame and fortune in "Gunsmoke"
when John Wayne recommended him for the part. Wayne had been championing
Arness for years and provided him with roles in some of his films.
Following "Gunsmoke"'s phenomenal run, Arness seemed content to stay
with TV and had another successful series, "How the West Was Won". John
Wayne was one of the first actors to successfully launch his own
production company, Batjac, which produced this film and Wayne's
influence is felt in the project. Andrew V. McLaglen was the son of
Wayne's good friend and occasional co-star Victor McLaglen. The
screenplay was written by Burt Kennedy, who Wayne would later hire to
direct several of his own films. The movie provided young Angie
Dickinson with her first role of substance and she would reunite with
Wayne years later on Howard Hawks' "Rio Bravo". Speaking of which,
another Wayne favorite, character actor Pedro Gonzalez Gonzalez appears
in both films. Also in the cast is Harry Carey Jr. , son of Wayne's idol
and and personal friend, Harry Carey. The cinematography is by William
Clothier, who would lens many of Wayne's later movies and the film was
produced by Duke's brother, Robert Morrison. "Gun the Man Down" is very
much a Wayne family affair.
The film opens with three fleeing bank robbers: Rem Anderson (James
Arness), Matt Rankin (Robert J. Wilke) and Ralph Farley (Don MeGowan),
who arrive at their hide-a-way cabin with the law in hot pursuit. Rem
has been seriously wounded and Rankin makes the decision to leave him
behind. Rem's girl, Jan (Angie Dickinson), objects at first but Rankin
convinces her to go with them in part because they have $40,000 in loot
from the local bank. The law arrives at the cabin and arrests Rem. He is
nursed back to health and is offered a deal for a light sentence if he
helps track down his confederates. Rem refuses and does his time in
prison. Upon release, he begins his mission vengeance and tracks Rankin,
Ralph and Jan to a one-horse town where Rankin has used his ill-gotten
gains to open a profitable saloon. Upon discovering Rem is in town,
Rankin hires a notorious gunslinger, Billy Deal (Michael Emmet), to
assassinate him. Jan has a tense reunion with Rem and seeks his
forgiveness but her pleas fall on deaf ears. Rem emerges victorious over
Billy Deal and Rankin, Ralph and Jan flee town with Rem in pursuit.
Their final confrontation takes place in a remote canyon with tragic
consequences.
Given the film's meager production budget, "Gun the Man Down" is a
surprisingly mature and engrossing Western with intelligent dialogue and
interesting characters. (In addition to those mentioned, there is a
fine performance by Emile Meyer as the town sheriff). Arness projects
the kind of macho star power that Wayne had and Dickinson acquits
herself very well as the stereotypical saloon girl with a heart of gold.
The film, ably directed by McLaglen, runs a scant 76 minutes and was
obviously designed for a quick playoff and fast profit. It has largely
been lost to time but the film is currently streaming on Screenpix, which is available through Amazon Prime, Roku, Apple TV and Fire TV for an additional monthly fee of $2.99 The movie is also available on Blu-ray through Olive Films.
The Three Stooges starred in their last feature film "The Outlaws is Coming" in 1965. This rare behind the scenes footage includes an original TV spot for the film. Also in the cast: future "Batman" star Adam West. The Stooges' original comedy shorts were shown on TV all over the USA in the 1960s, with the programs each having a different host for the individual market that was telecasting the shows. If you grew up in the New York City area, you'll recognize Joe Bolton in the cast. He hosted the TV show under the guise of a policeman named Officer Joe Bolton. Interestingly, there trailer shows a glimpse of an armored stagecoach that resembles "The War Wagon" a couple of years before that movie was released.
Audie
Murphy plays himself in “To Hell and Back,” available on Blu-ray from Kino
Lorber. When I was a kid, the name Audie Murphy was very familiar to me and my
friends as the most decorated American soldier of WWII. And if that wasn’t
enough to make me an Audie Murphy fan, he was also the star of countless movie
westerns which I watched on repeat airings on TV. When “To Hell and Back” made
the rounds on TV, all other activities stopped so we could watch his Medal of
Honor exploits on the small screen, and then replay them in our minds in the
weeks that followed. We imagined killing Nazis on our way to and from grade
school. Thoughts and countless discussions about driving Jeeps with mounted .50
caliber machine guns, jumping sand dunes ala “The Rat Patrol,” and driving half-tracks
and Sherman tanks while firing rounds on the enemy.
The
film, which was released in 1955, opens with an introduction by retired four-star General Walter Bedell
Smith setting the stage for meeting a young Audie at home in rural northeastern
Texas in 1937. Born in 1925, he was part of a large family, abandoned by their
father and left alone after their mother died, leaving his younger siblings in
foster care. Murphy left school to work and help care for his family at the age
of 12. His skills at hunting and using a gun would aid him during his military
service. Underage after the attack on Pearl Harbor, his older sister helped
falsify his records so he could enlist in the Army. After basic training at Ft.
Lewis, Washington, Murphy shipped to North Africa, but he saw no action as the enemy
had just surrendered. Murphy isn’t thought of too highly at this point in the
story, by his peers or his commanding officers.
The
story shifts to the invasion of Sicily followed by the invasion of Italy and then
combat in France where Murphy distinguishes himself in battle and receives
America’s highest military honor, the Medal of Honor. The movie moves along at
a brisk pace but we never really get to know his buddies and the bonds they
created, as the focus is oncus on the action set pieces and deaths of his
friends. Murphy is promoted from private to platoon sergeant and then to a field
commission to second lieutenant. The movie depicts the highlights from his real
life exploits including when he singlehandedly takes on an army of advancing
German soldiers by firing the machine gun on a burning Sherman tank and halting
the German advance, thereby saving the lives of many Americans. Murphy was
severely wounded and suffered the rest of his life from what is now commonly
known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Murphy is credited with killing an
estimated 240 German soldiers and wounding and capturing far more. It’s almost
too much to expect so much can be told in a movie with a running time of 106
minutes.
Murphy
released his autobiography, “To Hell and Back,” in 1949 which became the basis
for this film. Murphy declined the offer to attend the Military Academy at West
Point, but remained an Army Reserve officer and served in the Texas National
Guard, retiring with the rank of Major. Murphy did accept the call to Hollywood,
along with fame, fortune and a gambling addiction. His successful movie career
began in 1948, mostly in Westerns, ending in 1969 after featuring in 44 movies.
He also starred in a troubled 1961 TV series “Whispering Smith” which some
deemed too violent for television. Murphy died in a plane crash on 28 May 1971.
He’s buried in Arlington National Cemetery and his grave is the second most
visited after President John F. Kennedy.
“To
Hell and Back” was a Universal production filmed at Universal Studios and on
location in California in widescreen CinemaScope. It’s a pity the production
didn’t do actual location filming in Italy and France, but this was uncommon at
the time. The movie was directed by Jesse Hibbs with a screenplay by Gil Dovel
based on Murphy’s best selling biography of the same name. Music was supervised
Joseph Gershenson making use of common Army songs and an otherwise sparse
score. It would be great if Hollywood saw fit to remake this story. The movie
became a huge hit and was Universal’s most successful film until the release of
“Jaws” in 1975.
The
disc features an entertaining audio commentary by Steve Mitchell and Steven Jay
Rubin. It’s worth watching the movie twice, the second time with the commentary
track which is like hanging out with a couple of buddies sharing anecdotes and
facts about the film. Their audio commentaries are always insightful and
entertaining and this one contributes greatly to this Blu-ray release which is
a worthy upgrade from previous DVD versions released over the years. The other
extras are the trailer for this and other Kino Lorber titles. I highly
recommend this disc for Audie Murphy fans and fans of military movies.
Louis B. Mayer’s MGM was not a preeminent fright-movie
factory in the 1930s.In a 1935
interview with London’s Picturegoer,
C.A. Lejeune, managing director of MGM in Great Britain, boasted the studio
didn’t “specialise in any single type of production,” whether they be “musicals,
or comedies, or horror films.”That
said, following the successes of Universal’s Dracula and Frankenstein,
and the still-in-production The Bride of
Frankenstein, MGM wisely chose to dip their toe into the horror pool.In doing so, they managed to release a couple
of eerie 1930 classics of their own.In
1935-1936 MGM delivered to the big screen The
Devil Doll with Lionel Barrymore and Mad
Love with Peter Lorre.But the
studio was also interested in capitalizing on Universal’s success of Dracula.So much so they even sought out that film’s director, Tod Browning, to
do so.It was Browning, an earlier collaborator
on multiple silent-film classics starring Lon Chaney, chosen to helm the
production of MGM’s The Vampires of
Prague.
Mayer was not particularly enamored of horror pictures,
but business was business and he recognized Universal was doing good box office
with their string of chillers. MGM did insist writers tapped to scribe The Vampire of Prague should draw upon
an earlier property of theirs:Tod
Browning’s silent feature London after
Midnight (1927).Though only a relatively
few short years separated release dates of London
after Midnight and Mark of the
Vampire (as The Vampires of Prague
would be re-titled), it didn’t seem a large number of critics (circa 1935)
recognized the latter as a re-make of the earlier Lon Chaney film - an effort now
sadly lost for examination and contrast.
So it wasn’t too surprising that MGM brought Tod Browning
on.Though Lon Chaney was dead and gone,
the director had an ace-in-the-hole, an actor holding current high attention.Bela Lugosi had come to Browning’s attention
with his casting in the director’s cinematic adaptation of Bayard Veiller’s 1916
three-act stage mystery of The Thirteenth
Chair (1929).Though Lugosi’s role in
that film was relatively minor – he was only the seventh-billed of the cast – his
subsequent popularity as Bram Stoker’s Count Dracula on stage productions
cemented Browning’s decision to cast the actor in the title role of the iconic
Universal film of 1931.
With this bankable asset in place, Variety reported in December of 1934 that Sam Ornitz and Hy Kraft
had been conscripted to write the screenplay for The Vampires of Prague: but this news was not only late arriving,
but incorrect.When production commence
directly following the New Year (January 12), Guy Endore and Bernard Schubert were
handling screenplay chores. Endore was something of an anomaly among
horror-writers.The author of such works
as The Werewolf of Paris (1933) and Babouk (1934), Endore was a devout
leftist who dressed mysteries with subliminal doses of theoretic Marxism.
That said, the most controversial aspect of Endore’s scenario
was not necessarily political, though its inclusion was completely excised from
the finished film.It’s never explained
why Lugosi’s Count Mora (a virtual mirror-image of his Count Dracula persona) displayed
a visible bullet-hole in his right temple.Actress Carol Borland, playing Mora’s daughter Luna, later reminisced Endore’s
script was envelope-pushing in its construction.In a scene excised from the film, the actress
recounted the original screenplay explained it was an act of incest that caused
Mora to strangle to death his daughter and take his own life with a bullet to
the head.
It was this ghastly act that caused the restless souls of
Mora and Luna to solemnly walk the earth in perpetuity.Endore’s plot device, needless to say,
conjured a scenario far beyond any sort of supernatural hokum: MGM, not without
cause, demanded its exclusion from the finished film.If such a scene was actually filmed, it was
likely excised along with fourteen other minutes reportedly trimmed from the
final cut.In any event, Mark of the Vampire clocks in at a tidy sixty-one
minutes which, all things considered, is probably for the best.
The production was allotted a twenty-four day shooting
schedule and budget of some 305,000 dollars, $3000 of which went to Lugosi for his
(mostly) silent walk-through role.For
those cineastes who complain Lugosi was under-used in Mark of the Vampire – given that the actor’s only speaking lines consisted
of only one or two sentences uttered at the film’s end – such fans should enjoy
the film’s trailer (included here on this new Blu-ray from the Warner
Archive).Lugosi serves as the trailer’s
singular narrator, spookily warning - in his Slavic trademark style, of course
- cinemagoers “Shall be the judges of
this eerie conspiracy!”It was nice
to see the trailer included with the set, however misleading its vampiric content.
In Mark of the
Vampire, Browning and MGM borrow generously from Universal’s established horror
film tropes:cinematographer James Wong
Howe’s photography is atmospheric and moody, particularly in scenes where Luna
stoically skulks the graveyard in her “cemetery clothes.”The film’s exterior setting is a quaint
eastern European village, peopled by superstitious residents who enjoy a bit of
folkloric dancing in the daylight hours - but who wouldn’t dare travel at night
should they encounter such ghouls as Mora and Luna.No string of garlic cloves or wolfs bane are
used to protect the villagers from evil.They prefer a regional botanical they refer to as “Bat’s Thorn.”
In the unlikely scenario someone reading this is not
already conversant with the plot of the film, I don’t want to give too much
away.So I’ll just say elements that
work best and prove memorable are the ghostly mute walk-throughs of Lugosi and
Borland.The latter’s swooping entrance
on a set of animated bat wings during one scene is particularly cinematic.The performances of the cast are all up to
par, though one gets the feeling Lionel Barrymore regards his leading role as unworthy
of his talent.
There are stories of Browning carping on Barrymore’s diffident
performance while the film was in production. Which is surprising as the two were certainly familiar
with each other’s work habits.Though
Browning earned a reputation as a stern taskmaster on set, the director had
worked with Barrymore earlier:on the
Lon Chaney Sr. silent West of Zanzibar
(1928).Though Barrymore is tasked to
play only one-half the character Lon Chaney played in London after Midnight, it is obvious Browning would have preferred
Chaney in the lead role – if only the silent-screen legend had not tragically
already passed in 1930.
Browning’s opinion of Chaney bordered on the
worshipful.In 1928 he enthused the “Man
of a Thousand Faces” famous make-up appliances and grotesqueries were hardly “Chaney’s real secret.He could put the same make-up on the face of
another man and that man would fail on the screen.There is a personality, a something about the
man that grips one.” Even accepting Browning’s
preferences, Barrymore’s performance is not the crux of the problem plaguing Mark of the Vampire. The main weakness of the film is the
implausibility of its red-herring scenario.
Based on Browning’s own short story, The Hypnotist, both London
after Midnight and Mark of the
Vampire are atmospherically disguised as genuine “horror” pictures, but in
truth they’re simply routine mysteries dressed as ghoulish entertainment.While I actually enjoy Mark of the Vampire, I concede the picture might otherwise be regarded
a middling whodunit without the presence of Lugosi and Borland.The actress – who had earlier worked with
Lugosi on a stage production of Dracula,
acknowledged neither she nor Bela were made aware they were merely red
herrings; the final “reveal” page of the script had been withheld until the
final day of production.Universal’s
lawyers tried to get an injunction to stop production of the MGM film,
believing MGM’s use of Lugosi’s Dracula-persona in the film seemed an
uncomfortable infringement of their intellectual properties.But threatened legal action against MGM was dropped
when Universal’s lawyers deemed the case unwinnable.
Universal needn’t have worried: the film doesn’t really
work as a great mystery, much less a gripping vampire tale.One doesn’t need to wait breathlessly until
the closing minutes for the murderer’s reveal.Instead, we’re only given insight into how the perpetrator is entrapped
into confessing.Which doesn’t make for
a particularly exciting climax.The
film’s other weakness is its parlor-room staginess – a plodding element also plaguing
Browning’s otherwise iconic staging of Dracula.
With that said, it wouldn’t be fair to
throw the baby out with the bathwater.Mark of the Vampire is still a classic –
albeit a somewhat minor one – from Hollywood’s Golden Age of Horror.
Previously issued in 2006 on DVD as part of the six-film Hollywood Legends of Horror set, Mark of the Vampire makes its first U.S.
appearance on Blu-ray via this Warner Archive Collection release.Ported over from that earlier set is the
audio commentary supplied by film historian’s Kim Newman and Stephen Jones as
well as the film’s original trailer.“New” to the Blu-ray release are two items of tangential interest to
people interested in circa-1935 cinema: the 8 minute-long The Calico Dragon (a 1935 MGM cartoon) and an episode from MGM’s Crime Does Not Pay series of film shorts
A Thrill for Thelma (1935).
Be warned neither bonus has really anything to do with Mark of the Vampire though there’s a slight connection to the latter bonus.The Crime
Does Not Pay series served as both a long-running film and radio series.On December 12, 1949, Lugosi was a featured
player on the series’ radio broadcast of Gasoline
Cocktail.This arguably might have
been a more interesting audio supplement to include on this archive release,
but interested fans can listen to the Lugosi program easily via You Tube should
they desire.In any event, the release
from Warner Archive looks great: 1080p High Definition 16x9 1.37.1 DTS-HD
Master Audio.This Blu-ray should be on
the shelf of any fan of classic horror film fan or enthusiast of Browning’s
work.
Turner Classic Movies (North America) will celebrate the 70th anniversary of Cinerama by broadcasting "The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm", along with the documentary "Restoring a Fantasy Classic", and "How the West Was Won" on November 25. Click here for info about the films and the history of Cinerama.
The 1970 film adaptation John Le Carre's 1965 Cold War novel The Looking Glass War is now available for streaming on Amazon Prime. The movie has been largely forgotten and relatively unseen since its release, which is odd given the consistent interest in all things Le Carre. Christopher Jones plays Leiser, a twenty-something Polish illegal immigrant in London who has the goal of being able to live there with his pregnant girlfriend, Susan (Susan George.) Although prone to bad habits and unpredictable behavior, Leiser is intent on taking his future role as a father seriously. He is arrested for immigration violations, however, and an MI6 boss LeClerc (Ralph Richardson) concocts an audacious plan to manipulate Leiser into spying for the West. Using a legal immigration status as a carrot, LeClerc gets Leiser to reluctantly agree to the scheme. The young man is given a crash course in spying by another MI6 agent, Avery (Anthony Hopkins). He proves an adept enough student when it comes to handling the physical requirements of the job. (The film's best sequence finds the two men engaged in a knock-down, extended brawl when a training exercise gets out of hand when their personal animosities take over.) However, Leiser sneaks away for a brief romantic interlude with Susan but he is emotionally distraught when she tells him she has aborted their baby. Although having lost the main goal of his life- fatherhood- Leiser agrees to go on a secret mission into East Germany to search for evidence of a deadly new class of missiles that MI6 feels could tilt the Cold War in the direction of the Soviets.
Director/screenwriter Frank Pierson took considerable liberties with the source novel, but it still retains LeCarre's trademarks: a highly complex plot peppered with all sorts of extraneous characters who epitomize the author's cynical view that, when it came to espionage, there was little moral difference between East and West. Still, the film is far less confusing than the over-rated 2011 big screen version of LeCarre's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy which won international acclaim although seemingly no one I have discussed the film with can begin to explain what it's all about. One of the main problems is that Leiser is an unsympathetic protagonist. As played by Jones, fully in his James Dean/Marlon Brando mumbling mode, he is a fairly unlikable character, routinely lying, breaking his word and abusing those around him, including Susan, who he physically assaults. It's pretty hard to consider him one of the good guys. Nevertheless, Jones, who was always underrated as a screen presence, uses his good looks and charisma to full advantage so you can't help but hope he survives his seemingly suicidal mission in the most intrusive and paranoid society the world has ever seen. The film does pick up steam once Leiser makes it under a barbed wire fence and is forced to reluctantly kill an East German border guard. The scene is quite suspenseful, as is another fine sequence in which the desperate and wounded Leiser accepts a ride from a predatory farmer who unexpectedly tries to goad him into performing a homosexual sex act- with tragic results. Leiser also picks up a hitchhiker himself, but- this being a 1960s spy movie- she's a drop-dead gorgeous blonde (played by flash-in-the-pan starlet Pia Degermark), who later reemerges in the story in a not-too-convincing plot twist that is designed to provide an obligatory sex scene. The first coincidental meeting between them takes place on a country road where she is traveling with a young boy who she introduces as her friend. Their relationship is never explained and the kid is never seen again when she has an ridiculously improbable reunion with Leiser in a nightclub. There's also a humdinger of ludicrous plot point in the first scene of the movie. Here, an MI6 agent in a foreign country obtains a roll of secret film that has proof positive of the missile system. He is handed the film by his contact. The agent gripes that his departmental budget is so small that they didn't give him cab fare. Thus, after obtaining this all-important evidence, he is left to trudge along a desolate road in the dead of night in the freezing cold. He is struck by a car and the film is lost. MI6 calculates this as murder and assume the Reds now have the film, which Leiser must retrieve. Really? We're all for financial restraint but the idea that the lack of taxi fare would endanger such important evidence is beyond crazy. It's just one of the improbable elements of Pierson's screenplay.
The film boasts a hip jazz score by Wally Stott, that nevertheless seems out of place in this dark espionage tale and the cinematography by Austin Dempster finds beauty in the East German countryside that contrasts with the "Show your papers" demands made by the secret police he encounters along the way. The performances among the supporting actors are all first rate, with Hopkins particularly impressive in an early screen role. The Looking Glass War is by no means the best of the LeCarre film adaptations (nothing has really equaled The Spy Who Came in From the Cold. ) However, it is an intelligent thriller (a few absurdities aside) with exotic locations and an impressive cast. Retro spy movie lovers will certainly enjoy it.
Cinema Retro
readers probably already know about Joe Caroff’s unique contribution to James Bond and film history, but
outside of serious movie fan circles, he’s less well known. Several years ago,
former HBO producer (and CR writer) Mark Cerulli and editor Paul C. Rosen set
out to change that by putting together a documentary about his remarkable life –
growing up in the Great Depression, fighting in WWII and being part of the Mad
Men advertising scene in the 1960s and 70s. Along with way, Joe designed a
number of iconic film logos including West Side Story, 007, Rollerball, A Hard
Day’s Night, Orion Pictures and many others. If you’re expecting a Bond
documentary, this ain’t it; rather it’s a portrait of a true American success
story that delves into his troubled relationship with his father, finding the
girl of his dreams and conquering Hollywood, one brilliant logo at a time.
Also in the
cast is legendary film executive Mike Medavoy (who commissioned Joe to design
the Orion Pictures logo) and top Hollywood poster artist Dan Chapman.
"By Design:
The Joe Caroff Story" premiered last night on TCM (North America) and is now available on HBO Max.
"The Frisco Kid" is a gentle buddy comedy Western made in 1979 when star Gene Wilder was riding high and post-"Star Wars" Harrison Ford was a rising star. The script was not a hot property, as it had plenty of people's fingerprints on it by the time Wilder signed on to the film. Ford was a major fan of Wilder's and was eager to co-star. Seasoned veteran Robert Aldrich, best known for his macho action movies such as "The Dirty Dozen", "Flight of the Phoenix", "Ulzana's Raid" and "The Longest Yard", was signed as director. It was seemingly an odd fit but Aldrich had directed the 1963 Frank Sinatra/Dean Martin Western comedy "4 for Texas". The film finds Wilder well-cast as Avram, a somewhat bumbling rabbinical student in Poland who is chosen to travel to San Francisco to serve as the rabbi for a new order. As a reward, he is shown a photograph of the beautiful young daughter of the religious leader in the area who will become Avram's bride. The trip from Poland to California would be arduous enough in the days of the old West under any circumstance but things go particularly wrong for Avram. Upon arriving on the east coast of America, he's told the ship he had booked passage on has been significantly delayed. He befriends three men with a wagon who say they are going to San Francisco. He opts to join them but along the way they rob him and leave him penniless in the desert. A group of Mormons save him and give him money to continue his now seemingly impossible journey across a hellish landscape of deserts and other natural barriers, as well as dangerous Indian tribes. He has a chance encounter with Tommy (Harrison Ford), a low-key friendly young guy who occasionally robs banks. The two men make for an "Odd Couple" scenario as they bond in friendship. Tommy feels sorry for the hapless Avram and agrees to escort him to San Francisco. The film chronicles their adventures and misadventures along the way, some comical, others frightening.
Today's film comedies are largely defined by an abundance of cynicism, cruelty and gross-out jokes, so one is hesitant to be harsh to the bygone era of family-friendly big screen yucks that "The Frisco Kid" epitomizes. There are some genuine giggles in the film, particularly due to Wilder's fish-out-of-water reaction to American traditions and the chemistry between Wilder and Ford is genuine and enjoyable. At other times, the film is sentimental and occasionally touching, as in the scenes in which our hero rabbi risks his life to save the sacred Torah he must deliver to his synagogue. However, the script by Michael Elias and Frank Shaw is meandering and has quite a few slow spots. There is a completely extraneous sequence in which our heroes are captured by hostile Indians that employs the age-old joke of having the tribal chief actually be a sophisticated, seemingly educated man. The scene drags on forever and goes nowhere. At 2 hours, the movie is about a half-hour too long. At times it seems endless and one can only wonder if a 90 minute version wouldn't have been more enjoyable. Sometimes less is more."The Frisco Kid" isn't a bad film, but it is bloated and Robert Aldrich's direction is workman-like and uninspired. It will primarily be of interest to Harrison Ford fans as an example of the eclectic types of films he appeared in after the original "Star Wars".
The region-free Warner Archive Blu-ray looks very good indeed. The only extra is the original trailer.
Click here to order from the Cinema Retro Movie Store
The
filmmaker Sean Baker, who most recently gave us (along with co-producer
Shih-Ching Tsou) such striking independent features as The Florida Project (2017)
and Red Rocket (2021), began his career modestly with extremely
low-budget indie pictures that take on a cinema veritéstyle (a type of documentary-like filmmaking that is
improvisational and attempts to capture “reality” in all of its harsh and spontaneous
truths). Baker co-directed with Tsou his second feature film, released in 2004,
Take Out, which is a slice of life tale that takes place within the
twelve hours of a single day.
Ming
Ding (Charles Jang) is an undocumented Chinese immigrant living in New York
City’s Chinatown. He had come to America in search of a better way of life,
leaving his wife and son in China until a later date when he could afford to
bring them over legally. Unfortunately, he owes a great deal of money to an
unscrupulous loan shark, whose muscle men show up at Ming’s apartment of
squalor (where several immigrants also live) and demand that a payment of $800
be made by the end of the day or else Ming’s balance owed will be doubled. They
strike Ming in the back with a hammer to emphasize their seriousness. Ming
already has $500—his entire savings—so he must find $300 over the next several
hours. Ming works as a delivery boy for a take out Chinese restaurant on the
Upper West Side. One of his co-workers, Young (Jeng-Hua Yu), gives him $150. Thus
begins a frantic, and tension-filled race against the clock for Ming to deliver
enough orders to customers in an attempt to make $150 more in tips. Seeing that
many customers barely tip anything at all, the task is definitely a challenge.
Compounding
the situation is that Mother Nature has decided that this would be a day in
which torrential rain must plummet New York all day long. So poor Ming must
ride his bicycle in the downpour back and forth from the restaurant to
customers’ residences. Sometimes the elevator in high-rise buildings is out of
order. Many times he must trek up the stairs to walk-up apartments. Customers
run the gamut—some are nice and friendly; more are cranky or racist or
cheapskates or all of the above- and, this being New York City, Ming must also
be wary of criminals who might target him for the money he’s carrying.
This
is a riveting piece of cinema that is not only suspenseful but also quite
revealing. Those of us who have ordered take out Chinese food in the big city
perhaps do not appreciate what a difficult job it is for the delivery guy. It
is hard, thankless work. We also get to see how a storefront Chinese take-out
place (not a sit-down restaurant) works behind the scenes. The manager and
counter person, Big Sister (Wang-Thye Lee), is the conduit between the kitchen
and the public. She speaks English perhaps better than any of the other
employees, but she’s not beyond throwing insults to or cursing out rude
customers in Mandarin that the recipients don’t understand.
Shih-Ching
Tsou, who has collaborated with Baker as a producer on his subsequent pictures,
was instrumental in bringing Take Out to life. She not only co-produced
the movie, but also co-wrote and co-directed it with Baker, who cannot speak
Mandarin or Cantonese. The script was written in English, but Tsou translated
it into Chinese for the actors, who were, for the most part, amateurs. Baker
did all of the striking camerawork himself along with the editing. Take Out is
truly a “homemade” production.
The
acting is remarkably potent. Charles Jang as Ming doesn’t say much in the
movie, but his inner turmoil and frustrations are clearly evident in his
charismatic demeanor and stoic facial expressions. He rarely reveals his pain,
but we know what he’s feeling. Of special note is Wang-Thye Lee as Big
Sister, who is in many ways the beating heart of the film. She is a pleasure to
watch in action.
The
Criterion Collection’s Blu-ray release presents a new 4K digital restoration,
supervised and approved by Baker and Tsou. It has an uncompressed stereo
soundtrack and comes with an audio commentary by Baker, Tsou, and Jang. There
are new English subtitles, as well as English captioning for the hearing
impaired. Supplements include a fascinating new documentary on the film
featuring interviews with Baker, Tsou, Jang, Lee, and Yu; a vintage documentary
on the making of the film; deleted scenes; Jang’s screen test; and the
theatrical trailer. The booklet comes with an essay by filmmaker and author J.
J. Murphy.
Take
Out is
for fans of Sean Baker’s work, New York City locales, and independent
filmmaking with a bite. Highly recommended.
John Sturges’ “Last Train from Gun Hill” was released in 1959 as one ofseveral
high-profile Westerns of its era, designed to lure audiences away from
their television sets and back to their neighborhood movie theatres.Against
TV’s advantage of free programming that you could enjoy from the
leisure of your easy chair, films like “Last Train from Gun Hill,”
“Warlock,” “The Horse Soldiers,” and “The Hanging Tree” countered with
A-list stars, widescreen CinemaScope and VistaVision, Technicolor, and
sweeping outdoor locations.The
studios wagered, correctly, that viewers would welcome a change from
the predictable characters, cheap backlot sets, and drab black-and-white
photography of “Gunsmoke,” “Wagon Train,” and “Cheyenne.”The
approach was successful, sporadically continuing through the next
decade with expensive epics like “How the West Was Won” (1962), “Custer
of the West” (1967), and “MacKenna’s Gold” (1968) before it collapsed
from dwindling returns, scaled-back studio budgets, and changing popular
tastes at the end of the 1960s.
As Sturges’ movie opens, two loutish cowboys chase down, rape, and murder a young Indian woman.Although the rape and murder occur offscreen, the lead-up is viscerally terrifying.In a bizarrely poor choice of words, Bosley Crowther’s review in the New York Times referred to the murderers as “scallywags.” At least in my lexicon, scallywags aremischievous kids who make prank phone calls, not perpetrators of a horrendous sexual assault.When the pair flee in panic after realizing what they’ve done, they inadvertently leave behind a horse and saddle.The
murdered woman’s husband is Matt Morgan (Kirk Douglas), the marshal of
the nearby town of Pawley, who immediately identifies the letters “CB”
branded on the saddle.They’re
the initials of Craig Belden (Anthony Quinn), a powerful rancher who
controls Gun Hill, a community further down the railroad line.One
of the murderers was Belden’s hired hand Lee (played by Brian Hutton,
later the director of “Where Eagles Dare” and “Kelly’s Heroes”), and the
other was Belden’s son Rick (Earl Holliman).When
Morgan arrives in Gun Hill with arrest warrants, Belden first tries to
convince him to go easy by reminding him that he and Craig were once
good friends. After that doesn’t work, he resorts to intimidation.The
cowardly local marshal refuses to help Morgan, unashamedly admitting
that he fears the boss man’s wrath more than he respects the rule of
law.(I’ll leave it to you to decide if you see a similarity to recent political controversies.)The
other townspeople are chilly if not hostile, and when Morgan finally
subdues Rick and handcuffs him in a hotel room, waiting for the arrival
of the train back to Pawley, Belden surrounds the building with hisarmy of hired guns.
The only person sympathetic to Morgan is Belden’s battered girlfriend Linda (Carolyn Jones).Even she believes the determined marshal faces overwhelming odds:
“You remind me of Jimmy, a fella I used to know,” she remarks. “Stubborn as a mule.”
“Next time you see Jimmy, say hello,” Morgan answers dryly.“We seem to have a lot in common.”
“More than you know.He’s dead.”
“Last
Train from Gun Hill” originated with a story treatment by writer Les
Crutchfield, expanded by James W. Poe with an uncredited assist from
Dalton Trumbo, whom Douglas brought in to sharpen the dialogue.The exchanges between the characters, like the one quoted above, crackle with Trumbo’s signature style.Crutchfield
contributed scripts regularly to “Gunsmoke,” and “Last Train from Gun
Hill” unfolds like a traditional episode of the long-running series,
dressed up with a little more complexity, a rape-murder that would never
have passed network censorship, and a striking climactic scene that
also would have run afoul of the censors.Standing up, Morgan drives a wagon slowly down main street to meet the arriving train.Rick
stands beside him, handcuffed, with the muzzle of Morgan’s borrowed
shotgun pressed up under his chin to keep Belden and his gunmen at bay. When
Dell Comics adapted the movie as a comic book at the time of the film’s
release, it chose that scene as the cover photograph.As
far as I know, the graphic come-on of imminent shotgun mayhem didn’t
raise the ire of parents, educators, child psychologists, or media
pundits in that distant year of 1959.Back then, of course, pervasive gun violence wasn’t the social catastrophe that it is today.In 2022, the comic book would surely raise a firestorm of controversy on social media and cable news.
“Last
Train from Gun Hill” falls just short of a true classic, since the plot
mostly relies on ingredients that we’ve seen many times before in other
Westerns—the incorruptible lawman, the overbearing cattle baron, his
bullying but weak-willed son, the old friends now at cross-purposes, the
unfriendly town, the tense wait for a train—but Douglas, Quinn, and
supporting actors Carolyn Jones, Earl Holliman, Brian Hutton, and Brad
Dexter are at the top of their form, and Sturges’ no-nonsense direction
keeps the action moving at a tense pace.The
Blu-ray edition of the film from Paramount Pictures’ specialty label,
“Paramount Presents,” contains a sharp, remastered transfer, an
appreciative video feature with Leonard Maltin, and theatrical trailers.Even
though “Last Train from Gun Hill” ran frequently on local TV channels
in the 1970s and ‘80s, its visual quality there was seriously
compromised by the broadcast format.Worse, endless commercial breaks disrupted Sturges’ masterful mood of mounting tension.Revisiting
the production in its original, intended form, we may better appreciate
its merits as classic Hollywood professionalism at its finest.Highly recommended.
(Above: Her Majesty attends the London opening of "West Side Story" in 1962. The title of the film is never mentioned because the Queen could not be seen as making a commercial endorsement.)
By Lee Pfeiffer
Queen Elizabeth was known to be an avid movie fan who looked forward to attending royal premieres. These were generally held at the famed Odeon Theatre in Leicester Square, London. However, she also attended the premiere of the first motion picture to be shown at the Royal Albert Hall, "Die Another Day", which marked the 40th anniversary of the James Bond franchise in 2002. Her Majesty had seen every Bond film, but supposedly favored the earlier ones because they weren't "as loud" as the more recent entries. Indeed, she even participated in that surrealistic 007-themed sketch that was seen as the opener of the London Olympics, "co-starring" with Daniel Craig. On occasion, Her Majesty would also visit film sets, much to the delight of cast and crew.
The Queen's appeal was universal. I'm an American but I felt a connection to her, possibly more than most of my countrymen because I've spent so much time in England since the mid-1990s. In 2002, her attendance at the Royal Premiere for "Die Another Day" and later, "Casino Royale" in 2006, reminded me that no one does opulent and impressive events as well as the Brits. The premieres are always very special occasions with tuxedos and gowns mandatory as a dress code. But when Her Majesty was in attendance, it was all the more special. Audiences have to be seated a full hour before her arrival- no exceptions. When Her Majesty arrived, it was telecast on the big screen so that the audience could enjoy seeing her being introduced to the cast and crew by the producers. When she entered the auditorium, Royal trumpeters took to the stage in their traditional regalia to announce the Queen had entered the auditorium. It was always a moving and unforgettable moment. Her presence was enough to lure Lord Richard Attenborough to the stage before the premiere of "Casino Royale". Pure movie magic made all the more special by the Queen's attendance.
Her Majesty greets actress Diane Cilento and husband Sean Connery at the 1967 premiere of "You Only Live Twice".
The Queen's taste for popular culture was well-known and wasn't restricted to upper-crust fare. In his autobiography, Dick Van Dyke recalls attending the premiere of "You Only Live Twice" and being introduced to her by producer Cubby Broccoli as she made her way down the line of dignitaries and engaged in a few seconds of small talk with each person. Van Dyke was shocked when she told him how much she and her family had always enjoyed watching his weekly TV sitcom. Thus, in the end, she was a woman of privilege and vast wealth- but she never lost her touch when it came to relating to people from all aspects of society. In that sense, she belonged to everyone and that is why everyone today is sincerely mourning her passing.
“Hello,
Bookstore” chronicles the heart-warming story of how the community of Lenox,
Massachusetts rallied
around their local bookshop to save it from bankruptcy during COVID-19. Viewers
are treated to an amazing storyteller, Matthew Tannenbaum, owner of The
Bookstore since 1976. It's not your typical documentary. There's no narrative
here. It is not linear. What we are treated to is a raconteur of the first
level musing about his life and raison d'être, The Bookstore on Housatonic
Street. The film is best described as being stream of consciousness musings
attached to a metronome of time.
Director
A.B.Zax, the sole cameraman of the film, started filming in the fall of 2019.
"It was an amazing journey, starting in fall 2019 and early winter, 2020.
Then COVID hit, and I came back from L.A., where we were living at the time. I
was upset at first, this isn’t The Bookstore I want to show, it wasn’t that
magical world anymore. Once I accepted that this is the time we had to do this,
what an interesting microcosm to explore, these shifts in our communities, this
humble little bookstore. We stayed and bought a small house in West
Stockbridge," Zax (who is married to a high school friend of Tannenbaum's
daughter, Shawnee) said.
Tannenbaum
has owned this shop since 1976. He's hosted many a book reading there and
raised a glass with his customers at the in-store/next door wine bar Get Lit.
Matt Tannenbaum behind his Get Lit wine bar.
(Photo: Heather Bellow.)
He's been in debt since he signed the papers and
borrowed money to buy the store 46 years ago. But he's been doing what he loves
ever since: “I’m just that guy who likes to do what I do, to sit upfront, do the
work, and handle books. The film captures me doing that,” he said in a
post-film interview.
In
April of 2020, while the shop would not let browsers in, books were sold either
curbside, asked for through the front door or via the internet. Customers would
read off their credit card numbers and books from inside were placed on a stool
right outside the front door.We
meet many regular customers during the course of the film as well as his two
daughters, the previously mentioned Shawnee and Sophie, who gave birth to a
child during the filming. Matt has a great rapport with his customers and a
never-ending font of stories. In his early days in Manhattan he worked at the
famous Gotham Book Mart. He eventually wrote a short (36 page) memoir: My Years
at The Gotham Book Mart with Frances Steloff, Proprietor.The idea for the documentary
came to Zax when he asked Tannenbaum if he planned to write more stories and
Tannenbaum said he didn't. Thus, it was decided to film the stories as they
were related by him to the camera. And occasional customer.
In August of 2020 he was selling
in one week less than what he would sell in a day. Bills mounted up. In
desperation he started a Go-Fund me page hoping to raise $60,000 to save the
store. He reached it in 23 hours. Eventually, it topped out at $120,000.The
Bookstore, a fixture in Lenox for well over four decades, got its start in
Stockbridge, “in the living room of a small rented house behind an alley that
housed a then little-known café that later came to be known as Alice’s
Restaurant.”
In a photograph taken in the mid-1990s, Matt Tannenbaum with Alice Brock of Alice’s Restaurant and Arlo Guthrie. Brock had just illustrated Arlo’s new book, Mooses Come Walking.
The move to
Lenox took place sometime in the late 60s or early 70s. And the baton pass from
the previous owner, David Silverstein, to Matt Tannenbaum took place on April
Fool’s Day, 1976. Due to the
community's generosity, The Bookstore still operates to this day. “Hello,
Bookstore” is available on DVD from Kino Lorber/Greenwich Video (Click here to order from Amazon). It can also be rented for streaming on Amazon Prime and Apple.For those interested, the film's website has
a video of Neil Gaiman's introduction to the movie that was shown while running
at Manhattan's Film Forum. https://www.hello-bookstore.com/
For further
reading you may be interested in reading these newspaper articles:
In his review of "Jack of Diamonds", New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther dismissed it as "strictly low-grade "Topkapi". The 1967 crime caper stars George Hamilton as handsome and inanimate as a mannequin found in the window of a posh 5th Avenue department store. At least no one can ever accuse him of putting the "ham" in "Hamilton". Hamilton plays Jeff Hill, the world's most notorious cat burglar. When we first see him, he's using a rope and pulley to enter the penthouse apartment of Zsa Zsa Gabor (!), who plays herself. While Zsa is sleeping, Hill manages to abscond with her valuable jewels- but, ever the gentleman, he leaves her a message telling her how much he enjoys her films (which means Hill has immaculate taste in jewels but not-so-great taste when it comes to the cinema.) Ms. Gabor is one of several real-life celebs who play themselves in the film. The others are Carroll Baker and Lili Palmer, each of who are victimized by the elegant, gentlemanly thief. The cameos are a pretty transparent gimmick to add a little more glamour to the production, which was produced by a West German film company and released theatrically in the USA by MGM.
Hill lives a Hefner-like lifestyle in a lavish mansion replete with all the trappings including a gymnasium complete with a trapeze that he uses to stay in shape so he can utilize his signature style of entering high buildings using the tactics of a human fly. We soon learn he has a mentor who goes by the name of "Ace" (Joseph Cotten), as he was once the world's greatest jewel thief and was known as "The Ace of Diamonds". He still acts as a wise sage for Hill, advising him on the dos and don'ts of certain potential capers. Hill soon finds that he has a competitor for some of the same jewels. Turns out it is a female cat burglar, Olga (Marie Laforet), who has her own mentor, Nicolai (Maurice Evans), a dapper dandy who also was once a famed jewel thief. Nicolai has concocted a plan for the ultimate theft and wants Olga and Hill to join forces to carry it out with he and Ace acting as advisers. This gives Hill plenty of time to make time with his new sexy partner but there is virtually no chemistry between Hamilton and Laforet, partly because her character is largely window dressing and is not fleshed out in the slightest in terms of being given a background. Nicolai's plan requires stealing some famed jewels from a seemingly impenetrable museum but just to learn their precise location it will require the cat burglars to break into a safe located in the headquarters of the Paris police. Achieving this daring goal, the foursome then turn to the main event: the robbery of the jewels. They are racing against time against an international police organization (presumably based on INTERPOL) that is doggedly trying to track them down and stop future robberies. The organization's point man is Von Schenk (Wolfgang Preiss), a charismatic German who pursues them with the zeal of Inspector Javert.
"Jack of Diamonds" is yet another film from the Sixties that looked anemic in its day but probably plays better now. The film tries to present some glamorous European locales but much of it is achieved through the over-used stock footage that MGM had in its vaults at the time. (A scene supposedly shot atop the Pan Am building in New York features what may be the worst rear screen projection effect I've ever seen.) Still, the offbeat feel of the film is somewhat enjoyable and the script allows a Bondian air in which the pursuer and the pursued match wits while enjoying each other's company and sharing fine cigars. George Hamilton makes for a strikingly handsome leading man even if he's a bit short in the charisma department. The real fun is watching old pros Cotten, Evans and Preiss trade barbs and witticisms. It's the kind of dialogue that is rare in contemporary thrillers. The caper aspects of the production are carried out adequately by director (and former actor) Don Taylor and if the entire enterprise stacks up as "Hitchcock Lite", it's an enjoyable romp throughout with nary a dull moment and a bizarre but infectious score by Bob Harris and Peter Thomas (bizarre because it is the only time you will ever seen a filmed ski chase that combines jazz music and yodeling.)
The Warner Archive has released the film as a region-free DVD title. There are some inconsistencies with the color quality but overall it's an acceptable print, though I suspect it may not be presented in its original aspect ratio. This version seems to be matted but I could be wrong. The DVD contains the original theatrical trailer.