We've seen some pretty weird record albums tied in with celebrities. If you thought William Shatner's "Transformed Man" is the gold standard of bizarro ventures by actors into the realm of 331/3 records, Cinema Retro contributor Doug Gerbino spotted this gem that seems to beg for further investigation into its origins.  We love the fact that Mason is seen on this children's album sleeve holding his omnipresent cigarette. This must have been a compromise on the part of Capitol Records in terms of Mason's presumed insistence that he be photographed swilling down a Martini! After all, the album does possess the highly-cherished Bozo Seal of Approval. We personally can't wait to locate a copy of this record so we can indulge in that snappy, toe-tapper "Backwards From 100" with James "Snoop Dog" Mason on the lead.  

Update: Okay, we'll come clean. We don't usually put up jokes, but as you might assume, this isn't for real. In fact, the creator, Cris Shapan, has a Facebook page that has putting up these hilarious creations for years. Here's another of his gems:

By Hank Reineke

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 91^st 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 19^th Police Precinct Station House, Alan King’s home, the Supreme Macaroni Factory restaurant on Ninth Ave. and 38^th 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.

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"Retro-Active: From the Cinema Retro Archives"

By Fred Blosser

Frederick Knott's suspense play "Wait Until Dark" premiered on Broadway on Feb. 2, 1966.  Lee Remick played Susy Hendrix, a young blind woman who becomes the target of a manipulative scheme orchestrated by a sinisterly glib psychopath, Harry Roat Jr. from Scarsdale. Robert Duvall, in his Broadway debut, had the pivotal supporting role of Roat. A movie version opened on Oct. 26, 1967, starring Audrey Hepburn (in an Oscar-nominated performance) as Susy and Alan Arkin as Roat, produced by Mel Ferrer (Hepburn's husband at the time), directed by Terence Young, and scored by Henry Mancini. A predecessor of today's popular, trickily plotted suspense movies like "Gone Gir" (2014) and "The Girl on the Train" (2016), the film was a commercial and critical success, ranking number sixteen in box-office returns for the year. Movies adapted from plays often feel stage-bound, but "Wait Until Dark" avoids those constraints, thanks in no small part to Young's fine pacing, sharp eye for detail, and sure grasp of character.

Bosley Crowther's October 27, 1967, film review in the New York Times noted that the Radio City Music Hall screening of "Wait Until Dark" included a stage show with a ballet troupe, performing dogs, and the Rockettes. Fifty years later, going out to a movie, you're lucky to get a good seat and decently lit projection for the price of admission. Any live entertainment comes courtesy of the patrons behind you who can't put away their smartphones for two hours.

Knott's play was confined to one interior set, Susy's cramped Greenwich Village apartment, which makes it a perennial favorite for little-theater and high-school drama productions on limited budgets. The movie adds a new opening scene in which Sus's husband Sam (Efrem Zimbalist Jr.), a freelance photographer, meets an attractive young woman, Lisa, as they board a flight from Montreal. When they land at JFK, Lisa hands Sam a child's doll and asks him to hold on to it for her temporarily. She says it's a present for the child of a friend, she just learned that the friend and the little girl will be meeting her at the airport, and she doesn't want to spoil the surprise; she'll call and come by for it later. Unknown to the obliging Sam, it's a phony story: Lisa is a drug mule, and narcotics are hidden inside the doll.

Lisa had planned to double-cross her accomplice Roat and split the money from the drug shipment with Mike (Richard Crenna) and Carlino (Jack Weston), her partners in past criminal schemes. Roat murders Lisa and enlists Mike and Carlino to help him find the doll in Susy and Sam's apartment. He lures Sam away with a call promising a big photo assignment. In his absence, Mike poses as an old Army friend of Sam's, and Carlino impersonates a detective investigating Lisa's murder. In a bad guy/good guy ploy, the phony Detective Sgt. Carlino insinuates that he suspects Sam of Lisa's murder. Mike intervenes, offering his support to Susy to gain her trust. To further disorient Susy, Roat poses as two men who appear to lend credence to the con.Harry Roat Sr., an an aggressive old man, barges into the apartment, noisily claiming to be in search of evidence that Lisa, his daughter-in-law, carried on a clandestine affair with Sam. Later, mild-mannered Harry Roat Jr. knocks on the door and apologizes for his father's outburst. It's a nice gimmick for Alan Arkin, who gets to impersonate three characters with different costumes and personalities. For audiences who watched the Broadway production, it might also have provided an effective "Aha" moment when they realized that there was only one Roat, not three. But it's no surprise for the movie audience, since close-up camera angles make it clear immediately that the other two are also Arkin in heavy make-up.

The new Blu-ray release of "Wait Until Dark" from the Warner Archive Collection presents the movie in a 1080p print for high-def TV. It's a definite improvement in richness from previous TV and home-video prints. The tailor-made audience is likely to be those older viewers who saw the film on the big screen in 1967, who may wonder if the movie's "gotcha"climax still holds up. Suffice to say without spoiling the scene for new viewers by going into details, it does. The film's stage origins are obvious in the dialogue-driven plot set-up and in the constrained setting of one cramped apartment. The measured exposition may be a hurdle for younger viewers used to a faster pace and visual shorthand, but the concentration of character interplay in a closed space isn't necessarily a problem, even for Millennials who have been conditioned to expect ADHD editing and splashy FX in movies. It imposes a sense of claustrophobia that subtly forces the audience to share Susy's mounting fear of being hemmed in and trapped.

In "Take a Look in the Dark", an eight-minute special feature ported over to the Blu-ray from a 2003 Warner Home Video DVD release, Alan Arkin notes that the psychotic Roat, with his granny-frame sunglasses and urban-hipster patter, was a break from the usual sneering, buttoned-down movie and TV villains of the time. "By and large, the public had not been exposed to that kind of person", he recalls. "But they began to have people like that live next to them, or see them in the newspapers or on TV." Ironically, if Roat was unsettling to 1967 audiences, he and his flick knife may seem insufficiently scary for younger viewers today, in the endless wake of movies and TV shows about flamboyantly demented murderers since "The Silence of the Lambs" (1990) -- not to mention the perpetrators of real-life mass murders that, numbingly, we seem to see every night on CNN, network, and local news.

In the special feature, Arkin and Ferrer also express fond appreciation of Hepburn, who wanted to star in "Wait Until Dark" when she realized that she was getting too old to continue playing demure ingenues, Ferrer says. Once Susy starts to figure out the con in the last half-hour of the movie and, isolated from help, summons the inner resources to fight back, she begins to resemble today's omnipresent model of screen feminism, the smart, ass-kicking action hero. Two supporting actresses are unfamiliar by name and face: Samantha Jones as Lisa and Julie Harrod as Susy's 14-year-old neighbor Gloria. Jones has a chilling scene in which Lisa's corpse hangs in a makeshift body bag in Susy's closet, and Susy, unaware, almost bumps into it. Both actresses are so good that viewers will wonder why they didn't have more prominent careers. (I don't know either.) One bit of casting may be distracting to viewers in 2017 in a way that it wasn't to audiences in 1967: as Carlino, the fine character actor Jack Weston is almost a dead ringer for New Jersey Gov. and failed 2016 Republican Presidential hopeful Chris Christie. (He's now running again- Ed.)

Besides "Take a Look in the Dark", the Warner Archive Collection Blu-ray includes two trailers also repeated from the 2003 DVD. One, titled the "warning trailer" ominously cautions that "during the last eight minutes of this picture, the theater will be darkened to the legal limit to heighten the terror of the breath-taking climax." As a gimmick for luring curious masochists into the movie theater, it doesn't quite rise to the truly inspired heights of William Castle's "Emergo", "Percepto", or "Punishment Poll", but it's still a charming bit of vintage Hollywood hucksterism.

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FRED BLOSSER IS THE AUTHOR OF "SAVAGE SCROLLS: VOLUME ONE: SCHOLARSHIP FROM THE HYBORIAN AGE". CLICK HERE TO ORDER ON AMAZON

Retro-Active: From the Cinema Retro Archives

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).

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"Retro-Active: From the Cinema Retro Archives"

By Lee Pfeiffer

Seven years after his blockbuster success producing the 1972 film The Poseidon Adventure, Irwin Allen revisited the same story for a sequel, Beyond the Poseidon Adventure. The 1979 film represents all the reasons that sequels to most hit films are generally disdained. Yes, there was The Godfather trilogy to buck the trend, but there were also those God-awful sequels to Jaws. Beyond the Poseidon Adventure opens the morning after the capsizing of the cruise ship. Michael Caine is Mike Turner, the financially destitute captain of a small vessel who is facing bankruptcy after losing his cargo in the same violent storm that destroyed the Poseidon. On board his boat are his first mate Wilbur (Karl Malden) and Celeste Whitman (Sally Field), a perky but klutzy young drifter the men have befriended. They stumble upon the capsized wreck of the Poseidon and Turner immediately smells financial opportunity in the tragedy. If he can make his way through the hull and down to the purser's office, he can raid the safe and abscond with the riches that are inevitably stored there. This is the first of any number of absurdities in the script. With the Poseidon the worst maritime disaster since the Titanic, Turner and his crew discover that, with the exception of one French copter that is conveniently leaving the scene upon their arrival, there is literally no other sign of the international  rescue forces that would be omnipresent at the scene. Instead,  after rescuing the few people who managed to make it onto the hull in the preceding film, those forces are in no hurry to get additional manpower to the scene in order to search for additional survivors before the ship sinks the bottom of the ocean. Inexplicably, while the rescue forces can't make a timely arrival at the scene, a small craft under the command of Captain Stefan Svevo (Telly Savalas) does. Svevo claims he is a doctor who is there with his crew to enter the ship and search for any survivors. (Absurdity #2: Svevo is about to undertake this arduous, grimy and potentially deadly task while attired in a snow white designer suit!). Turner buys his story and forms and uneasy alliance with Svevo and his team, who are also clad all in white and resemble some of those bands of henchmen from the old Batman TV series.

Once inside the ship, movie magic takes over and the group finds every chamber to be brightly lit, thus making it possible to move about freely. True, there is the hazardous task of finding your way around an upside down vessel, but that problem is solved when they conveniently find a map that lays out precisely where everything is located. Soon, Turner discovers what even the most naive viewer has already realized: that Svevo is actually a villain with his own agenda. In the third major absurdity, we learn that the Poseidon was transporting plutonium that Svevo wants to acquire for nefarious purposes relating to bomb- building. As if that isn't enough, it turns out the ship was also transporting a huge shipment of assault weapons and stockpiles of ammunition. It's a wonder there was any room for those joyous conga lines to dance around on that fatal New Years Eve.

Since a hallmark of any Irwin Allen film is the presence of respected actors peppered throughout the production, it isn't long before familiar faces start popping up in every room, like those celebrities who used to stick their heads of windows and make wise-cracks on Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In. Slim Pickens, in full scenery-chewing hayseed mode, comes stumbling out of nowhere, drunk and protecting a precious bottle of wine. He pretends to be a Texas tycoon but it turns out he was the ship's wine steward and regards the bottle of expensive vino as a symbol of his life long dream to acquire the lifestyle that has always eluded him. Then there is Shirley Jones, who emerges and announces that she is a registered nurse, which is certainly more practical to the group than if she were a butcher by trade. Angela Cartwright is a young woman who was on the cruise with her father, a bull-headed Archie Bunker type played by an unusually over-the-top and embarrassing Peter Boyle. Every Allen film needs a sympathetic older couple to wring a few tears from from the audience so this time we have Shirley Knight and Jack Warden substituting for the previous film's Shelly Winters and Jack Albertson. Allen throws in the kitchen sink by making Warden play a blind man. Not to be politically incorrect, but the sequences of Warden stumbling around the upside down wreck of the Poseidon with a cane and wearing sunglasses begins to resemble a Monty Python sketch. Then there is Veronica Hamel as the prerequisite "bad girl" who slinks around in a drenched evening gown showing ample cleavage- oh, and Mark Harmon has a major role as a young hunk who finds love with Angela Cartwright in the bowels of the sinking ship. If that isn't enough, we learn that lovable ol' Karl Malden's character is terminally ill and the symptoms manifest themselves while he's holed up in the upside down ship. (Somehow Allen showed restraint by not introducing killer sharks to the mix.)  

Irwin Allen had the good sense to have seasoned directors Ronald Neame and John Guillerman direct his two biggest blockbusters, The Poseidon Adventure and The Towering Inferno and they remain enormously entertaining films. However, he became convinced that he could save a few bucks by doing the job himself. Thus, the man known for making disaster movies became better known for the man who made disastrous movies. The first slip was The Swarm, a 1978 flapadoodle that we always refer to as the worst "Bee" movie of all time. The movie was a bomb but that didn't teach star Michael Caine and co-star Slim Pickens a darn thing, since they re-teamed with Allen right away for  Beyond the Poseidon Adventure. (Many years later, Caine said he was ashamed of this period of his career when he took virtually any job in order to earn an easy pay check.) With Allen back in the director's chair, Beyond was destined to be another camp classic and it has the look and feel of a TV movie. Caine looks understandably embarrassed, Field is in Flying Nun cutesy mode and Savalas channels his inner Blofeld as the villain. Allen packs in everything from an ax murder (!) to a full blown shoot-out in which every day people turn out to be as adept at handling machine guns as Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos.  There are some reasonably impressive sets on view but many of the special effects are sub-par. The most hilarious are found in the opening frames in which we see Caine at the helm of his storm-tossed boat in the midst of a hurricane. The sequence was apparently filmed with the ship on rockers and the violent rainstorm was simulated apparently by having some guy off camera spray garden hoses. It's quite possibly the cheesiest effect I've ever seen in a modern, major studio production.

The Warner Archive has released Beyond the Poseidon Adventure only on DVD. With the film itself a dud, there is at least the saving grace of an interesting bonus extra: a vintage 22 minute TV special about the making of the film. It affords some excellent behind the scenes views of the production and makes it clear that a lot of talented people put a great deal of work into creating films that often turn out badly. There are also some nice trailers for the main feature, The Swarm, Twister and The Perfect Storm. Even bad movies need some love, so how about a Blu-ray release of "Beyond the Poseidon Adventure"?

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By Lee Pfeiffer

The 1970 Western "Cannon for Cordoba" is yet another film that was written off as "run of the mill" at the time of its initial release but probably plays far better today when Westerns are scare commodities. The film is clearly designed to capitalize on movies such as The Professionals and The Wild Bunch, and while it certainly isn't in the league of those classics, it's a consistently engrossing and highly entertaining horse opera.  Set in 1916, when the US was embroiled in assisting the Mexican government in suppressing "revolutionaries" who were really bandits, the plot centers on a crime kingpin named General Coroba (well played with charm and menace by Raf Vallone), who launches an audacious raid on American General Pershing's troops and succeeds in stealing a number of valuable cannons that will make him almost invulnerable to attack once they have been installed at his remote mountaintop fortress retreat. George Peppard is Captain Douglas, a hard-bitten and insolent cavalry officer in Pershing's command who is sent on a virtual suicide mission to infiltrate Cordoba's compound, blow up the cannons and kidnap the general. Imagine The Guns of Navarone with sombreros. He takes along the standard rag-tag team of tough guys which includes Peter Duel and the always-reliable Don Gordon, seen here in one of the most prominent roles of his career. That old chestnut of a plot device is introduced: Gordon has sworn to kill Peppard at the end of the mission for allowing his brother to be tortured to death by Cordoba.

The group pretends they are American sympathizers to the revolution and succeed in infiltrating the compound with the help of Leonora (comely Giovanna Ralli), who intends to seduce the general and then betray him in revenge for having raped her years before. The film is as gritty as it gets, and as in the Sergio Leone Westerns, there is a very thin line that separates the villains from the heroes. Peppard is in full Eastwood mode, chomping on omnipresent cigars and saying little. He betrays no sentiment and is almost as cruel as the criminal he seeks to bring to justice. 

Director Paul Wendkos keeps the action moving at a fast clip and there is at least one very surprising plot device that adds considerable suspense to the story. The action sequences are stunningly staged and quite spectacular, and it's all set to a very lively and enjoyable score by Elmer Bernstein. Cannon for Coroba may not be a classic, but it's consistently well-acted and will keep you entertained throughout. 

The film is currently streaming on Screenpix, which is available for a separate subscription fee of $2.99 a month through Amazon Prime, Roku, Apple TV and Fire TV. 

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By Lee Pfeiffer

If you haven't caught up with Michael Caine as Harry Brown yet, the fact that it is now streaming on Amazon Prime may will allow you to do so. It's time well- spent. At an age where most thespians were comfortably retired, Caine was not only still a viable leading man when the film was made, but a viable leading man in action films. Harry Brown was released in 2009 and generated decent reviews and business in the UK, but it received a blink-and-you'll-miss-it run in the USA.  The film consciously (some might say pretentiously) strives to bring Caine back to the turf of one of his greatest films: the gritty 1971 crime classic Get Carter.  This film isn't of that caliber, but it represented Caine's strongest role in years. He plays a quiet pensioner eaking out an existence in a London housing estate that is beset with violence and terrorized by omnipresent street gangs. In the early part of the film, Harry's beloved wife of many years dies from an illness. Then his best friend is murdered by the thugs. You don't have to be the Amazing Kreskin to predict what happens next. Caine takes it upon himself to avenge his friend's death and utilizes his training as a Royal Marine (he fought in Korea) to reawaken his savage instincts. Slowly and methodically, he hunts down the main culprits and dispenses his own brand of justice.

If this sounds like a geriatric Death Wish, it most certainly is. However, the film is very moving on certain levels, as we watch this likeable man of peace's world crumble around him. His trail of vengeance is presented logically and he doesn't become a superman in the process. The film is ably directed by Daniel Barber, who makes the most of the locations at London's notoriously dreary Heygate Estate, which has since been demolished. Caine is aided by a fine supporting cast, with Emily Mortner especially good as a detective who is assigned to stop the vigilante killings. She suspects Caine is the killer, but can't help sympathizing with him. 

It's rare that the film industry affords an older actor a plumb role in an action film. Harry Brown may not be a classic, but it's good enough to rise above most contemporary action movies.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

When it was announced that producer Elliott Kastner had succeeded in signing both Marlon Brando and Jack Nicholson for the 1976 Western, "The Missouri Breaks", the project was viewed as a "can't miss" at the international box-office. This would be Brando's first film since his back-to-back triumphs in "The Godfather" and "Last Tango in Paris" and Nicholson had just won the Best Actor Oscar for "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". The two Hollywood icons were actually neighbors who lived next door to each other, but they had never previously teamed for a film project. Kastner, whose prowess as a street-wise guy who used unorthodox methods to get films off the ground, had used a clever tactic to sign up both superstars: he told each man that the other had already committed to the project, when, in fact, neither had. With Brando and Nicholson aboard, Kastner hired a respected director, Arthur Penn, who had worked with Brando ten years before on "The Chase". He then chose an acclaimed novelist, Thomas McGuane, who had recently made his directorial debut with "92 in the Shade", to write the screenplay. What emerged from all these negotiations was seemingly a boxoffice blockbuster in the making. Alas, it was not to be. Upon its release, critics emphasized the "Miss" aspect "Can't Miss" of the "The Missouri Breaks", with most reviewers citing the opinion that the film was a long, slow slog interrupted up a hammy, over-the-top comic performance from Brando, who Penn apparently exercised little control over when it came to the actor's penchant for improvisation. 

The film opens with cattle baron David Braxton (John McLiam) "hosting" a lynching for a rapt audience of his ranch hands. Seems the intended victim has rustled some of his cattle and McLiam is determined to put an end to the thievery, which has reduced his overall business income by 7% per year- a statistic he never tires of griping about. McLiam's hardball tactics against the rustlers don't sit well with his otherwise adoring daughter Jane (Kathleen Lloyd), an independent-thinking young woman who has acted as her father's most trusted companion since her mother left him for another man years ago. The victim of the lynching was a member of a rustling gang headed by Tom Logan (Jack Nicholson), who befriends Braxton on the pretense that he wants to purchase a plot of land on his property to establish a small farm. In reality, he wants to utilize the land to temporarily house stolen horses which his gang has gone to Canada to obtain in a daring operation against the Royal Canadian Mounted Police's stables. Meanwhile, Jane- who lives a life of relative isolation on her father's estate-is immediately smitten by the charismatic Tom Logan and when she insists that he become her first lover, he finds it impossible to resist. Thus, Logan is now in a romantic relationship with a girl who is the daughter of a man he is deceiving and stealing from. David Braxton goes all-out in his obsession with thwarting the rustlers. He hires Lee Clayton, a renowned "regulator", which is a polite term for bounty hunter. Clayton is an eccentric man with a bizarre personality who speaks in a heavy Irish brogue, but also at times utilizes other accents. He is at times charming and amusing and at other times fiery-tempered and unpredictable. Upon being introduced to Tom Logan by Braxton, Clayton immediately suspects he is not a farmer, but a rustler. The two men play a cat-and-mouse game, each one employing double-entendres in their conversations. When Logan's men return from Canada empty-handed after being thwarted by the Mounties, Clayton becomes an omnipresent figure, observing their every move from afar through binoculars. One by one, he systematically murders the members of the rustling gang, always preceding their horrendous deaths by chatting with the doomed men in disarmingly friendly tones. Clayton becomes so frightening a figure that even Braxton becomes intimidated by him and attempts to fire him, but Clayton says the money is irrelevant and that once he commits to a job, he sees it through. The stage is set for a mano-a-mano confrontation between Logan and Clayton that both men realize will see only one emerge alive.

It's easy to see why "The Missouri Breaks" didn't catch on with audiences. Much of the film moves at a glacial pace, but McGuane's script is intelligent and the dialogue often witty. Brando's outrageous antics easily overshadow anyone else in the film, even though his appearances are fleeting and the lion's share of the screen time is dominated by Nicholson. Brando seems to be having a field day and there seems to be no limit to his improvisations. (At one point he is dressed as a Chinese peasant and in another he is inexplicably attired as a woman, complete with apron and bonnet.) He also has a penchant for making some uncomfortably romantic overtures to his horse. Thus, the character of Clayton proves to be a distraction from the otherwise somber, realistic tone of the film. Nevertheless, there is no doubt that Brando's appearances are both amusing and somewhat mesmerizing, even if out of place. The movie boasts a first rate supporting cast that includes Harry Dean Stanton, Frederic Forrest and a young and slim Randy Quaid. Kathleen Lloyd holds her own against the considerable star power of Brando and Nicholson, which could not have been an easy feat. Alas, stardom was not to follow for her, though she still occasionally appears as a guest star in popular TV series. Where the movie disappoints the most is in its climax. The audience has been led to expect a memorable confrontation between Logan and Clayton, but when one of them gets the upper hand on the other, it's done very abruptly and rather unimaginatively, leaving the viewer feeling cheated. The movie boasts a low-key but appropriately atmospheric score by John Williams and impressive cinematography by Michael Butler. 

After "The Missouri Breaks", Brando seemed uninspired and went on automatic pilot in terms of his film roles. He was paid a relative fortune for what amounted to extended cameos in "Superman" and "Apocalypse Now", and while he was a significant physical presence in both films, no one made the case that he exerted himself dramatically. He would find occasional enthusiasm in certain roles (an Oscar-nominated turn in the little-seen  "A Dry White Season" and a hilarious performance recreating his Don Corleone role for "The Freshman"), but his enthusiasm seemed to diminish in direct proportion to his increase in weight. Sadly, he would never totally recapture the mojo he once enjoyed as a screen icon. Yet, time has been kind to "The Missouri Breaks". The film's literate script and direction are a reminder of an era in which such projects would be green-lit by major studios who appealed to the intellect of movie audiences. Today, the project would never have seen fruition no matter who starred in it.  

"The Missouri Breaks" is currently streaming on Amazon Prime and Kanopy.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Warner Archive has released a Blu-ray edition of the 1966 thriller Eye of the Devil. The MGM movie, directed by J. Lee Thompson, is one of the last major B&W studio releases. The film had a troubled production history. The female lead had been Kim Novak, but when she was injured during filming, Deborah Kerr took over and had to reshoot all of her scenes - a costly and troublesome process. However, this meant that Kerr was reunited with her Separate Tables co-star David Niven (the pair would be seen on screen again the following year in Casino Royale). Eye of the Devil is an atmospheric thriller with supernatural overtones. Niven plays the heir to a massive French vineyard, though he keeps his distance from the massive rural chateau, preferring to be with wife Kerr and their two young children in an urban setting. An emissary from the vineyard summons him back to the chateau, presumably because the harvest is failing, but Niven's emotional turmoil indicates that there are other factors dictating why he is reluctant to return. When Kerr and the children show up, things deteriorate quickly. Kerr finds the locals to be frightened and unfriendly. Inside the chateau, the staff and Niven appear to be collaborating on hiding information from her. Additionally, a strange brother and sister team (Sharon Tate in her first major role and David Hemmings) are an omnipresent and threatening presence. Kerr ultimate suspects that the presence of a local priest (Donald Pleasence) is inciting people to dabble in witchcraft and the black mass. All of this leads to the prequisite sequences in which a helpless woman is tempted to poke about dark castle corridors and crypts to find the facts.

The film is disturbing from minute one, largely because it is devoid of any humor whatsoever. Every minute exudes a sense of menace. The cinematography adds greatly to the tension and the cast is highly watchable, even if no one attempts to hide their full-throated British accents while playing French characters. (The exteriors were shot in France, the interiors were filmed at MGM's Borehamwood Studios). The movie is consistently engrossing, even if it never reaches the level one might expect, given the sterling cast. Tate makes a significant visual impression, but it should be noted that her immaculate British accent was dubbed.  The new region-free Blu-ray release does justice to the crisp B&W photography with a fine transfer. One quibble: Turner Classic Movies often shows an original production featurette from the film. One wishes it was included with this release, which features only the trailer as a supplement. However, spending any time with Niven and Kerr is time well-spent.

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The pandemic has taken a toll on big budget spy movies. The oft-moved James Bond film "No Time to Die" was originally supposed to premiere in March of 2020 but did not reach theater screens until September, 2021. Now the omnipresent virus has caused Paramount to push back the release date of "Mission: Impossible 7" to July of 2023, which means the film will debut almost two years after its previously announced premiere date of September 30, 2022. Consequently, the eighth installment of the long-running series starring Tom Cruise will be pushed back to June of 2024. The seventh film in the series has been shooting for what must seem like an eternity for those involved, with multiple exotic international locations affected in different ways by the impact of the pandemic.  Meanwhile, Cruise's sequel to "Top Gun", which has already seen its release date delayed, still appears to be penciled in for a May 27, 2022 opening.  For more, click here.

BY TODD GARBARINI

Natalie is a homely and painfully shy young girl with an overbite who hides under her bed when boys disparage her looks, going so far as to knocking their teeth out with a shovel when they, no pun intended, mouth off to her about her less-than-spectacular looks. She constantly needs assurance from others that her plain appearance will one day segue way to something attractive enough to command the attention of members of the opposite sex. The person she looks up to the most, Uncle Harold, is a sweet man who refers to her as “princess” and assures her that she will blossom into a butterfly from the cocoon she has wrapped herself up in. Her “knight in shining armor” fantasy of him is shattered one evening at dinner when Uncle Harold (Martin Balsam) brings his girlfriend, an attractive middle-aged stripper, to dinner and announces that they are engaged. Uncle Harold passes sometime later due to an undisclosed illness, and his fiancé confides to Natalie that life isn’t always as wonderful as it appears to be. This truth is later confirmed when her attractive best friend marries a “regular guy”.

The late Patty Duke, who tragically lived a life as a manic-depressive and even wrote a book about it, gives a performance as the titular heroine that wavers between pathos, tragic-comedy and self-pity. Ms. Duke is arguably best known for her work in The Miracle Worker (1962) in her portrayal of Helen Keller, and then again in the 1979 television adaptation, this time as Anne Sullivan, Helen Keller’s teacher. Natalie lives with her overbearing parents (character actor Philip Sterling as her father and Nancy Marchand best known for television’s Lou Grant and The Sopranos as her mother) who set her up with a doctor (Bob Balaban, who also played John Voight’s date in John Schlesinger’s Midnight Cowboy (1969), the interpreter in Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), and Thora Birch’s father in 2001’s Ghost World) in the hopes of seeing her married. Eventually, she musters the courage to cut the umbilical cord and strike out on her own, leaving the confines of Brooklyn for a Greenwich Village flat when such a decision was affordable for a single person. She throws herself into her new life with zeal and gusto, repainting her drab new apartment with bright colors and decorative knick-knacks, and finds inventive ways of moving in through the dumb-waiter she shares with other tenants, one of whom is a painter, David Harris (James Farentino), whose apartment she mistakenly enters while he’s painting a nude model. Unlike Edouard Frenhofer, Jacques Rivette’s protagonist in La Belle Noiseuse (1991) who puts Emmanuelle Beart through the ringer to get to her quintessence, David is a painter second to being an architect, though he would like to paint full-time. Natalie initially regards him with disdain, interpreting his bohemian “profession” as a poorly chosen excuse for bedding unsuspecting and attractive muses. Her throwing rocks at the floor in moments of anger, sending plaster onto his head or waking him early in the morning, is a gag that wears out its welcome. David soon falls for Natalie, and once she achieves happiness with him her world comes crashing down once again when she discovers a truth about him that leads to a failed suicide attempt that is both tragic and comedic.

BY TODD GARBARINI

The Silent Partner (1979) is an effective thriller that, to the eyes of today's viewer, may not seem all that intricate or even suspenseful. So many thrillers have been made in the intervening forty years, specifically heist-based movies, that Partner may seem derivative, insipid, or even dated given the presence of outmoded security equipment and the absence of omnipresent cell phones. This could not be further from the truth as there is a lot of subtext going on for even the most jaded cerebral viewer to enjoy here.

The title refers to the protagonist, Miles Cullen, played deftly by Elliot Gould. Miles leads an unremarkable life as a bank teller in a branch office located inside of a Toronto shopping mall that is besieged by Christmas cheer and decorations. As a loner who collects rare fish specimens for his apartment aquarium when he isn’t cowering from his bank manager, Charles Packard (Michael Kirby), to avoid being scolded should he make a mistake, he musters the courage to invite his co-worker Julie (Susannah York) out for a drink only to be rainchecked which affords him redirecting his attention to the hired and dubious Santa Claus mascot (Christopher Plummer) who is scoping out the office for nefarious purposes. Several additional clues tip Miles off that Santa will rob the bank and he gets the brilliant idea to set aside a huge chunk of the money to take for himself while Santa takes all the blame. The amount is just shy of $50,000 Canadian dollars which today is roughly four times that amount. The robbery that inevitably transpires yields little for the police as the security camera footage fails to capture Santa’s face. One must wonder about the wisdom of the bank’s sole security guard chasing the perp into the fully attended mall with his weapon drawn. Recall the security guards unloading their machine guns into the apartment complex at the beginning of Return of the Pink Panther (1975) which, incidentally, also co-starred Mr. Plummer? Not smart!

Reikle (Plummer) gets wind that Cullens stiffed him on the take and he aims to get the remainder of the money by engaging in a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse with Cullens, who proves to be a worthy adversary, surprising even himself at his newfound ingenuity and ballsy spirit. Much of their fencing takes place between the telephone booth outside Cullens’s apartment and Cullens’s landline, the former an obvious prop as it seems awkward and out-of-place but is placed geographically for the sake of the story. Cullens outwits and entraps Reikle by landing him back in jail, filling Reikle with the resolve to get out and kill Cullens.

For the first time in any contemporary film that I can remember seeing, main characters ponder aloud as to the insignificance of their lives, wondering where they are going and what the meaning of life is all about. Julie has foolishly permitted herself to become romantically entangled with their boss, knowing full well that he is a married man. When Cullens asks Julie if she is in love with him, she says yes and then no. She honestly has no idea. Julie, like so many other people, is looking for something outside of the repetitive, then-Nine-to-Five existence that befalls nearly everyone once they graduate high school or college. She ends up in Miles’s apartment for a nightcap and is perfectly willing to take their friendship out of the Friend Zone until Miles shuts the situation down for reasons which become apparent later.

(Photo: Dollie Banner. All rights reserved.) 

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Kudos to the New York Times for recognizing the passing of Jerry Ohlinger, the famed Gotham movie memorabilia dealer who passed away this week at age 75. Collectors would travel far and wide, especially in the pre-internet age, to rummage through Ohlinger's early shops that boasted a wealth of vintage movie stills, magazines and rare posters. Over the years, he moved locations several times and his shops, by necessity, became better staffed and more organized. Ohlinger seemed to be omnipresent, holding court at the shop, chatting with customers, shouting out orders to staffers who were in search of that illusive something that a customer required. He was quite the character: eccentric, engaging and always seen with a soggy cigar in his mouth that, ironically, was never lit because he didn't like smoking cigars. Go figure. Jerry Ohlinger's Movie Memorabilia Shop went through some hard times in recent years due to the skyrocketing rents that have wreaked havoc on small businesses in major cities. With Jerry's passing, it truly is an end of an era for collectors of vintage movie memorabilia, though  his presence will be felt due to the fact that the last location of his shop will remain in operation. For more click here. 

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Sony has reissued its 2002 special edition of producer William Castle's horror exploitation film Homicidal a burn-to-order DVD, although there is no mention of the extra bonus feature on the packaging or publicity for the film. (Sony seems determined not to capitalize on special features that are especially marketable to collectors.) Castle, of course, was the proud master of exploitation films and relished his reputation as the King of Schlock. He excelled in making low-budget, "quickie" films that often capitalized on major hit movies of the day. Castle seemed to fancy himself as a low-rent version of Alfred Hitchcock, who was also not shy about promoting his own image in connection with marketing his films and TV series. Castle's films were not meant to be taken seriously by critics but he did have high standards for the genre in which he worked and it's rare to find any of his movies that don't at least merit classification as guilty pleasures. Others, such as Homicidal, actually turned out to be effective chillers in their own right. The movie was Castle's answer to the phenomenal success of Hitchcock's 1960 classic Psycho. Indeed, there are camera angles, musical cues and plot scenarios that practically border on plagiarism of the original film. The story opens on a fascinating note as we watch a statuesque young blonde (Jean Arless) check into a hotel in Ventura, California. She's a strange one from frame one- barely engaging in conversation with anyone else. She suddenly makes the hunky bellboy a bizarre proposition: she will pay him $2,000 cash if he agrees to marry her and then almost immediately have the union annulled. She does not give a reason for this weird offer, but in an age where a hotel room rented for $5 a night, the $2,000 offer is more than he can refuse. En route to the justice of the peace, the young woman, whose name is Emily, says little and doesn't even engage in niceties. She seems intent on having a specific justice of the peace (crotchety old James Westerfield in a marvelous role) perform the ceremony. As with all Castle productions, to describe much more would spoil some key scenes. Suffice it to say that the short-lived marriage results in murder that is so shocking and gory that it is amazing it was not watered down by skittish studio executives. 

What can be said is that Emily is a Swedish immigrant who was brought to America by an equally strange young man named Warren, who resides in an opulent home. Helga's main duty is to care for an elderly woman named Helga (Eugenie Leontovich), another Swede who had been Warren's nursemaid as a child. Helga has suffered a stroke and is confined to a wheelchair, unable to talk or communicate in any meaningful way. Around Warren, Emily plays the doting caregiver, but privately, she delights in tormenting the long-suffering woman, even to the point of making death threats. One of the few outsiders to be allowed into this environment is Miriam Webster (Patricia Breslin), Warren's half-sister. The two have a very close relationship but things are fairly frosty between Miriam and Emily, who seems jealous of the close bond between brother and sister. Emily is also jealous of Miriam's relationship with a local pharmacist, Karl Anderson (Glenn Corbett) and begins to find ways to thwart their social outings. After a time, Miriam and Karl begin to suspect that Emily might well be a notorious murderer the police are searching for. This sets in motion many of the standard actions screen heroines must always engage in. These include not staying in a safe environment and being lured to precisely the location where she knows she will be placed in life-threatening danger. When Emily is about to enter the house of horrors, Castle employs one of his trademark gimmicks by freezing the action and putting a clock on screen that gives squeamish audience members 45 seconds to flee to the lobby where they can redeem a coupon to get their money back. To prevent having to actually provide many refunds, Castle has a caveat to the agreement: all such patrons must stand in full view in a "Coward's Corner" he had provided for theater lobbies!  Once Miriam does enter the house, the film is genuinely creepy and leads to an ending so shocking I never saw it coming and I doubt most viewers will, either. 

You approach Homicidal with the justifiable expectation that it will be filled with laughs, a la Castle's great camp success House on Haunted Hill. However, it proves to be a highly effective thriller with an a rather astonishing performance by Jean Arless as the insane Emily. One minute she's all charm, the next she's running around bug-eyed trying to murder people with knives and poison. There are times she brings to mind Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford, but in the aggregate it's a mesmerizing screen debut. Bizarrely, "Jean Arless" was a fake name used by actress Joan Marshall because she feared being typecast in horror films. Sadly, she never went far in her career under either name and died relatively young in 1992 at 61 years of age. She gets solid support from Glenn Corbett (who also died young in 1993 at age 59) and Patricia Breslin, who manages to avoid making the requisite role of damsel in distress unintentionally funny. 

The Sony DVD has a top quality transfer and the bonus items are quite interesting. There is a short featurette that presents various horror film authorities extolling the virtues of Castle's work. There is also some wonderfully campy newsreel footage of the world premiere in Youngstown, Ohio that features the omnipresent Castle badgering patrons to tell everyone how great the film is. (One woman says with a straight face that it's better than Psycho.) The cigar-chomping Castle, who comes across as a delightful man, also features in the introductory segment to Homicidal, in an obvious attempt to emulate Hitchcock's penchant for self-promotion.  The special edition also features a short TV spot in which the narrator clearly imitates the voice of old Hitch. 

Homicidal is a highly entertaining film that demonstrates you don't need big stars or a big budget to make an effective thriller. Highly recommended. 

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Twilight Time has released a Blu-ray edition of the biting social satire The Hospital.

By 1971, the playwright Paddy Chayefsky was considered so revered that he remains the only writer that comes to mind who could demand a possessive credit on films he wrote the screenplays for. (The film’s titles were followed by the credit “By Paddy Chayefsky”). Such a case is The Hospital, a film that was highly acclaimed in its day and voted into the National Film Registry in America in 1995, signifying its status as a classic. Why, then, consider it a “long over-looked film”? Because the virtues of The Hospital were overshadowed by Chayefsky’s 1976 masterpiece Network, a glossier and more outrageous movie that resonated even more soundly with audiences and critics. Consequently, The Hospital is rarely discussed in critical circles and seen even less on the big screen within the art house circuits. Yet, the power of this film is as timely as ever.

Non-American audiences may well scratch their collective heads over the on-going, increasingly contentious debate over the health care system in the United States. In order to explore the premise of The Hospital, its relevance must be placed within the context of this debate. In the post-WWII world, almost every modern, industrialized nation installed a form of national health care. In America, however, it remained a “for profit” system that gave insurers every incentive to deny sick people coverage. Virtually everyone in America agrees that the system has become hopelessly broken but despite the fact that the uninsured rate in America is now at an all-time low, the debate over the merits of President Obama’s attempts to the health care system remain largely split on the basis of one’s political party- and millions remain without coverage. Paddy Chayefsky foresaw the ultimate collapse of the system. His screenplay places the crisis in a localized level- specifically one over-burdened New York City hospital that is desperately trying to stay open in a bizarro world where the need for profits often trumps the incentive to provide proper care. The sequences in which an omnipresent aspect of the emergency room is a bureaucrat who harasses critically ill patients to produce proof of their medical insurance is a daily occurrence in hospitals across the USA.

Chayefsky views the crisis through the eyes of Dr. Bock (George C. Scott), a weather-beaten, revered doctor who is not only going through a mid-life crisis of divorce and impotence, but who is chronically depressed because his life’s goal of helping the sick has been converted into dealing with a monstrous administrative system that is out of control. Bock gamely soldiers on, trying to bring sense to the madhouse he oversees, even has he contemplates suicide on a daily basis. When a string of mysterious murders with comical overtones take place at the hospital, Bock finds himself taking on the role of detective, as well. He does find time for an intense fling with Barbara (Diana Rigg), a free-spirited young woman who is intent on taking her crazed father from his sick bed and returning to their hippie lifestyle on an Indian reservation. She tempts Bock to give up his high pressure career and join her. The chemistry between Scott and Rigg is dynamic and Chayefsky gives them one of his trademark sequences characterized by extended dialogue that allows both actors to showcase their brilliance on screen. (Chayefsky wrote a similar sequence between William Holden and Beatrice Straight in Network) It’s a sheer joy to listen to Scott and Rigg speak the superb dialogue and enact the sequence with such passion. In today’s era in which seemingly every film is based on cheesy CGI effects, it’s even more of a treasure to relish Chayefsky’s writing.

By Hank Reineke

From 1963 through 1966 Murray Lerner would make the yearly trek from New York City to the tony seaside town of Newport, Rhode Island. Once there, the documentarian seemingly photographed every major and minor player of the 1960’s folk music craze for his resulting award-winning film Festival (1967). Depending on one’s personal taste in music, the celluloid snippets offered in the film’s final edit – several capturing folk and blues artists performing in the prime of their careers – are either frustratingly truncated or mercifully brief in length.

As a lifelong folk music enthusiast, I would find this film a treasure even if the film’s “star players” (Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Peter, Paul & Mary) were not featured. Watching snippets of such legends as Son House or Mississippi John Hurt sing the blues, Tex Logan and the Lilly Bros. sing their brand of high, lonesome bluegrass or Minneapolis’ Spider John Koerner wail away on a racked harmonica and 12-string guitar would be enough to make me a fan. It would be too mammoth a task to list the expansive list of folk and blues and gospel and roots artists caught on film - no matter how briefly - in Lerner’s omnibus film Festival, but it’s safe to say that few important figures of Newport’s most consequential to pop-culture era festivals are not represented.

Photographed on a set of shoulder-supported 16mm “Sound-On-Film” Auricons, Lerner – augmented by a three member camera crew - seems to have made an earnest effort to faithfully capture the essential comradely spirit of the annual Newport event. This black and white documentary film offers no narration or even narrative line, and subsequently – as the New York Times noted dourly in their review of the film in October of 1967, it is occasionally “distressing and annoying” that “the more esoteric folk performers […] are not clearly identified.” This stunningly beautiful 2K digital Criterion release - featuring the original uncompressed monorail sound - has thoughtfully remedied this by offering the option of removable captions. These captions prominently identify both the artists and the songs being performed as they unspool before our eyes.

Festival is one of two documentaries released in 1967 that prominently (and perhaps) accidentally captured on film the unlikely but meteoric pop-music ascension of folk-rock icon Bob Dylan. The rightfully esteemed - but more diverse in scope - Festival has always been a bit more obscure than D.A. Pennebaker’s seminal and more celebrated Don’t Look Back. Some of the thunder of Mr. Lerner’s wonderful film was likely the result of having been released to theaters a mere month following Don’t Look Back in the autumn of 1967.

Though Festival is a “music” film, aside from Peter, Paul, and Mary’s warbling of “Come and Go with Me” that plays under the film’s opening credits, I don’t recall any other time when we’re treated to full performance of a song. The cameras tend to linger democratically on both the artists and the visitors to the festival – the latter being almost uniformly young, white, and well-scrubbed. These are kids who have chosen to abandon their schools and jobs for a long weekend of rebellious camping on the beaches and fens of Newport. Other sleep-deprived youngsters splay out uncomfortably on the backs of motorbikes and car hoods.

BY TIM GREAVES

J.D.’s Revenge was released by American International in 1976, just as the blaxploitation sub-genre was pretty much tailing off and indeed when A.I.’s most prolific years lay behind them. It was directed by Arthur Marks, best known to me for his year earlier blaxploitation entry, Friday Foster (headlining Pam Grier and Yaphet Kotto), but also notable as writer/director on early 70s drive-in fodder such as Bonnie’s Kids and The Roommates.

The story opens with a fast-paced prologue set in 1942 New Orleans, during which a heated argument in a meat-processing plant between Betty Jo Walker (Alice Jubert) and Theotis Bliss (Fred Pinkard) culminates with him slitting her throat. The body is discovered by her brother, scar-faced black-marketeer J.D. (David McKnight), who’s mistaken for the killer by her boyfriend, Theotis’ brother Elija (Louis Gossett), who promptly shoots J.D. dead. (Keeping up? This is the framework for everything that follows.) We slingshot forward 34 years to present day and meet Isaac ‘Ike’ Hendrix (Glynn Turman), cab driver by day, law student by night. Out at a club with his girlfriend Christella (Joan Pringle) and some friends, Ike gets up on stage to participate in a hypnosis act, but whilst he’s in a trance his mind is infiltrated by the vengeful spirit of J.D. With increasing frequency, the unhinged gangster intermittently seizes control of Ike, using him as a tool to exact revenge upon Elija and Theotis, who’ve now moved up in the world and – along with the former’s daughter Roberta (Jubert again) – are shamelessly using a religious set-up as front for their criminal activities.

Scripted by Jaison Starks, J.D.’s Revenge is a gritty serving of schlock with a supernatural slant, serving up a banquet of graphic bovine slaughter, un-PC dialogue, scathingly sexist attitude and more than a splash of Dulux-variety bloodshed. Yet although it’s staged competently enough, it falls shy of joining the ranks of the more thrilling blaxploitationers, in fact on a couple of occasions it almost crosses the line into parody; it’s hard not to smirk when Ike takes to strutting around togged up in unflattering, ill-fitting 1940s regalia, whilst his frenetic cavorting during the climactic face-off is truly bizarre. The only thing that rescues it from descending into silliness is the omnipresent streak of nastiness against which the unfolding events are juxtaposed. Nowhere is this more prevalent than a scene in which Ike drastically changes his hairstyle; he looks utterly ridiculous and Christella tells him so, but any urge on the viewer’s part to laugh is swiftly quelled as Ike brutally strikes her down and rapes her. It’s one of a handful of unforgivably misogynistic scenes that hamper producer-director Marks’s movie. To play fair, hard as it may be for a young 21^st century audience to comprehend, in 1976 such material was perfectly acceptable and the makers would simply have been feeding demand; viewed 40 years on, however, there’s no disputing that it’s archaic and makes for uncomfortable viewing.

At its root, of course, Sparkes’s script is riffing on the hackneyed – though seldom less than fun – Jekyll/Hyde formula, and Turman does an excellent job of vacillating between the two diverse personas of Ike and J.D. Nuances such as Ike absentmindedly running a finger across his cheek where J.D. was scarred subtly add veracity to the notion he’s possessed. Gossett meanwhile brings bags of energy to the table, particularly in the scenes when he’s vigorously preaching to his flock, and both Pringle and Jubert deliver admirable work. As an additional note on the cast, J.D.’s Revenge features what was the second (and final) screen appearance of Ruth Kempf, who’d achieved global recognition in her fleeting but memorable debut as novice pilot Mrs Bell in Bond film Live and Let Die; it’s fair to say, however, she’s left in far worse shape having crossed paths with the possessed Ike than she was in the wake of her comparatively lightweight encounter with 007! 

The FX work, when it isn’t bluntly quease-inducing, is nicely effective. Particularly striking is an optical when Ike is stands before a shattered mirror and sees the glowering visage of J.D. staring back at him.

BY FRED BLOSSER

Frederick Knott's suspense play "Wait Until Dark" premiered on Broadway on Feb. 2, 1966.  Lee Remick played Susy Hendrix, a young blind woman who becomes the target of a manipulative scheme orchestrated by a sinisterly glib psychopath, Harry Roat Jr. from Scarsdale. Robert Duvall, in his Broadway debut, had the pivotal supporting role of Roat. A movie version opened on Oct. 26, 1967, starring Audrey Hepburn (in an Oscar-nominated performance) as Susy and Alan Arkin as Roat, produced by Mel Ferrer (Hepburn's husband at the time), directed by Terence Young, and scored by Henry Mancini. A predecessor of today's popular, trickily plotted suspense movies like "Gone Gir" (2014) and "The Girl on the Train" (2016), the film was a commercial and critical success, ranking number sixteen in box-office returns for the year. Movies adapted from plays often feel stage-bound, but "Wait Until Dark" avoids those constraints, thanks in no small part to Young's fine pacing, sharp eye for detail, and sure grasp of character.

Bosley Crowther's October 27, 1967, film review in the New York Times noted that the Radio City Music Hall screening of "Wait Until Dark" included a stage show with a ballet troupe, performing dogs, and the Rockettes. Fifty years later, going out to a movie, you're lucky to get a good seat and decently lit projection for the price of admission. Any live entertainment comes courtesy of the patrons behind you who can't put away their smartphones for two hours.

Knott's play was confined to one interior set, Susy's cramped Greenwich Village apartment, which makes it a perennial favorite for little-theater and high-school drama productions on limited budgets. The movie adds a new opening scene in which Sus's husband Sam (Efrem Zimbalist Jr.), a freelance photographer, meets an attractive young woman, Lisa, as they board a flight from Montreal. When they land at JFK, Lisa hands Sam a child's doll and asks him to hold on to it for her temporarily. She says it's a present for the child of a friend, she just learned that the friend and the little girl will be meeting her at the airport, and she doesn't want to spoil the surprise; she'll call and come by for it later. Unknown to the obliging Sam, it's a phony story: Lisa is a drug mule, and narcotics are hidden inside the doll.

Lisa had planned to double-cross her accomplice Roat and split the money from the drug shipment with Mike (Richard Crenna) and Carlino (Jack Weston), her partners in past criminal schemes. Roat murders Lisa and enlists Mike and Carlino to help him find the doll in Susy and Sam's apartment. He lures Sam away with a call promising a big photo assignment. In his absence, Mike poses as an old Army friend of Sam's, and Carlino impersonates a detective investigating Lisa's murder. In a bad guy/good guy ploy, the phony Detective Sgt. Carlino insinuates that he suspects Sam of Lisa's murder. Mike intervenes, offering his support to Susy to gain her trust. To further disorient Susy, Roat poses as two men who appear to lend credence to the con.Harry Roat Sr., an an aggressive old man, barges into the apartment, noisily claiming to be in search of evidence that Lisa, his daughter-in-law, carried on a clandestine affair with Sam. Later, mild-mannered Harry Roat Jr. knocks on the door and apologizes for his father's outburst. It's a nice gimmick for Alan Arkin, who gets to impersonate three characters with different costumes and personalities. For audiences who watched the Broadway production, it might also have provided an effective "Aha" moment when they realized that there was only one Roat, not three. But it's no surprise for the movie audience, since close-up camera angles make it clear immediately that the other two are also Arkin in heavy make-up.

The new Blu-ray release of "Wait Until Dark" from the Warner Archive Collection presents the movie in a 1080p print for high-def TV. It's a definite improvement in richness from previous TV and home-video prints. The tailor-made audience is likely to be those older viewers who saw the film on the big screen in 1967, who may wonder if the movie's "gotcha"climax still holds up. Suffice to say without spoiling the scene for new viewers by going into details, it does. The film's stage origins are obvious in the dialogue-driven plot set-up and in the constrained setting of one cramped apartment. The measured exposition may be a hurdle for younger viewers used to a faster pace and visual shorthand, but the concentration of character interplay in a closed space isn't necessarily a problem, even for Millennials who have been conditioned to expect ADHD editing and splashy FX in movies. It imposes a sense of claustrophobia that subtly forces the audience to share Susy's mounting fear of being hemmed in and trapped.

In "Take a Look in the Dark", an eight-minute special feature ported over to the Blu-ray from a 2003 Warner Home Video DVD release, Alan Arkin notes that the psychotic Roat, with his granny-frame sunglasses and urban-hipster patter, was a break from the usual sneering, buttoned-down movie and TV villains of the time. "By and large, the public had not been exposed to that kind of person", he recalls. "But they began to have people like that live next to them, or see them in the newspapers or on TV." Ironically, if Roat was unsettling to 1967 audiences, he and his flick knife may seem insufficiently scary for younger viewers today, in the endless wake of movies and TV shows about flamboyantly demented murderers since "The Silence of the Lambs" (1990) -- not to mention the perpetrators of real-life mass murders that, numbingly, we seem to see every night on CNN, network, and local news.

By Lee Pfeiffer

MGM has released the 1970 Western Cannon For Cordoba as part of their burn-to-DVD line. This is yet another film that was written off as "run of the mill" at the time of its initial release but probably plays far better today when Westerns are scare commodities. The film is clearly designed to capitalize on movies such as The Professionals and The Wild Bunch, and while it certainly isn't in the league of those classics, it's a consistently engrossing and highly entertaining horse opera.  Set in 1916, when the US was embroiled in assisting the Mexican government in suppressing "revolutionaries" who were really bandits, the plot centers on a crime kingpin named General Coroba (well played with charm and menace by Raf Vallone), who launches an audacious raid on American General Pershing's troops and succeeds in stealing a number of valuable cannons that will make him almost invulnerable to attack once they have been installed at his remote mountaintop fortress retreat. George Peppard is Captain Douglas, a hard-bitten and insolent cavalry officer in Pershing's command who is sent on a virtual suicide mission to infiltrate Cordoba's compound, blow up the cannons and kidnap the general. Imagine The Guns of Navarone with sombreros. He takes along the standard rag-tag team of tough guys which includes Peter Duel and the always-reliable Don Gordon, seen here in one of the most prominent roles of his career. That old chestnut of a plot device is introduced: Gordon has sworn to kill Peppard at the end of the mission for allowing his brother to be tortured to death by Cordoba.

The group pretends they are American sympathizers to the revolution and succeed in infiltrating the compound with the help of Leonora (comely Giovanna Ralli), who intends to seduce the general and then betray him in revenge for having raped her years before. The film is as gritty as it gets, and as in the Sergio Leone Westerns, there is a very thin line that separates the villains from the heroes. Peppard is in full Eastwood mode, chomping on omnipresent cigars and saying little. He betrays no sentiment and is almost as cruel as the criminal he seeks to bring to justice. 

Director Paul Wendkos keeps the action moving at a fast clip and there is at least one very surprising plot device that adds considerable suspense to the story. The action sequences are stunningly staged and quite spectacular, and it's all set to a very lively and enjoyable score by Elmer Bernstein. Cannon for Coroba may not be a classic, but it's consistently well-acted and will keep you entertained throughout. 

The DVD contains the original theatrical trailer

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By Hank Reineke

The Metrograph is a two-story, rather flat and rectangular building located at 7 Ludlow Street. The theater is sandwiched inconspicuously between a funeral parlor and an iron works foundry, a couple of blocks east of the Canal Street entrance to the Manhattan Bridge. It’s here, where the Lower East Side meets - or perhaps blurs - with the border of Chinatown, New York City’s cineastes will find the borough’s brightest new twinplex – one specializing exclusively in indie, art house, and repertory programming. Since it’s opening in March 2016, the theater has already screened an intriguing variety of shorts, foreign films, retrospectives, and silents.

The Metrograph’s primary theater is a 175 seat room on the ground floor, with a second more intimate screening room of fifty seats perched on the second level. A glass window partition allows curious filmgoers a rare peak into a projection room outfitted with two 35mm and one DCP projectors. The second level also features the “Commissary,” a comfortable space with a small bar and assortment of tables and couches where patrons and artists are not only welcomed, but encouraged, to congregate before and after screenings to discuss films and their own creative work. I was told by one Metrograph associate that the theater’s vision to completely transform this loft space into a small café is approximately three weeks away. The northernmost corner of the room that overlooks Ludlow Street has been reserved as a book-selling stall that will exclusively feature filmmaking-related texts and journals. (Click here to visit theater web site.)

On the weekend of April 8-10, the Metrograph partnered with Subway Cinema (the 501(c) (3) non-profit that has steered the New York Asian Film Festival since 2002) to host the sixth annual “Old School Kung-Fu Fest.” This year’s series of wild martial art extravaganzas was programmed to celebrate the legacy of Golden Harvest Productions, the Hong Kong based-studio founded by rogue producer Raymond Chow and Leonard Ho following their break with the Shaw Brothers. It was through a series of Bruce Lee films released through Golden Harvest that martial arts-action films would make their first successful inroads into western markets. Lee, justifiably disappointed by his treatment in Hollywood and relegated to sidekick and second-fiddle parts, moved to Hong Kong where he would star in no fewer than four Golden Harvest productions from 1971 through 1973. (Lee’s fifth and final film for the company, the posthumously released Game of Death (1978) was cobbled together from bits of footage left behind following his tragic death at age 32).

Though only Lee’s seminal Enter the Dragon (1973) would be screened over the course of this weekend’s festival – to a sold-out audience, of course - the “Little Dragon’s” long shadow remains omnipresent throughout. As might be expected at any celebration of cinematic martial arts mayhem, the program would feature eight films – seven screened from 35mm elements, one (The Prodigal Son) via DCP – that arguably constitute some of the finest work of Lee’s contemporaries, protégés and pretenders.

The film I was most anxious to revisit – for the first time in nearly forty years - was Brian Trenchard-Smith’s The Man From Hong Kong (1975) (aka The Dragon Flies), featuring Jimmy Wang Yu (“The One-Armed Swordsman”) and one-shot James Bond George Lazenby. Having brashly walked away from the role of Bond following his single-turn in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), the former model-turned-actor had anxiously found subsequent film work mostly unavailable. He reportedly financed a good portion of his first post-007 motion picture, Cy Endfield’s Universal Soldier (1971), out of his own pocket. In 1972, Lazenby would accept an offer to appear in the grim and disturbing Italian Giallo Chi L’ha Vista Morire? (Who Saw Her Die?). As director Aldo Lara would later recall in a supplemental interview accompanying the film’s DVD release:

George Lazenby had already played the role of James Bond and acquired a certain international fame. This was useful for the producers… He had deep issues with (Cubby) Broccoli and the entire James Bond organization… In the end, he didn’t make a lira. He was going to the casinos, staying in big hotels, and nothing was free. At the end he was shown the bills and everything had been deducted from his pay… he had made nothing. His only dream was to return to his homeland of Australia, buy a boat and sail off alone. He was happy that [this film] would earn him the money to buy the boat. He was very available and very nice, but he disappeared after this.”

Well, not entirely. Near broke and recently married with a child on the way, Lazenby was wandering around London’s Leicester Square where, on a whim, he caught a late-night screening of Bruce Lee’s Fists of Fury (aka The Big Boss, 1971). Though sensing a window of opportunity had opened, the actor hadn’t done his homework particularly well. Lazenby booked a flight to Singapore, only to discover Hong Kong was Lee’s actual base of operation. He caught a second flight to Hong Kong and, following a brief meeting with the powerful but uninterested Shaw Brothers, found his way to Raymond Chow’s office. Though Chow also seemed indifferent to Lazenby’s unannounced visit, the producer did have the presence of mind to call down to Lee (“James Bond is here to see you. Can I send him down?”). Though Lee’s answer was a curt “No,” an hour later the martial arts star emerged from his screening-room session. He asked the down-and-out Australian if he’d care to share a luncheon with Chow and himself. Midway through that meal – and to Raymond Chow’s sputtering surprise – Lee coolly instructed his business partner to write out a check in the amount of $10,000. “I want George to come back here and do a movie with me, [Game of Death] and I know he’ll come back if he’s got my money.”

Though he had already begun work on Game of Death, production was temporarily suspended when Golden Harvest teamed with Warner Bros. for the international breakthrough Enter the Dragon. We’ll never know exactly what role Lee had in mind for the former James Bond since, on July 20, 1973 and only four days following their first meeting, Lee was found dead. The executives at Golden Harvest were devastated. Not only had they lost a friend and essential creative partner, they now inherited the liability of having George Lazenby on the company payroll. The company’s chagrin wasn’t personal. The truth of the matter was their newly signed leading man was Hong Kong box-office dead weight: he had absolutely no kung-fu training and couldn’t speak a word of Mandarin.

Tired of hanging around Hong Kong waiting for something to be offered in the weeks following Lee’s passing, Lazenby returned home. In January 1974 the actor announced to reporters that he was offered a role in The Golden Needles of Ecstasy to be shot “in both Hong Kong and Los Angeles.” The plot was to involve ecstasy-producing acupuncture needles of solid gold that “are “So precious […] people in the Orient will do anything to acquire them.” Though that film actually would see the light of day – as the disastrous Golden Needles – Joe Don Baker and Jim Kelly had been assigned the lead male roles and Lazenby was, once again, left out in the cold.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Cinema Retro mourns the loss of Sir Ken Adam, the ingenious, Oscar-winning production designer who has passed away at age 95. Adam's work helped redefine films in terms of the elaborate and creative designs he invented, particularly for the James Bond franchise. Adam's work on the first 007 film, "Dr. No" in 1962 was deemed to be nothing less than remarkable, considering that the entire film was shot on a relatively low budget of just over $1 million. His exotic designs so impressed Stanley Kubrick that he hired Adam as production designer on his 1964 classic "Dr. Strangelove." For that film, Adam created the now legendary "War Room" set which many people believe actually exists at the Pentagon. In fact when Ronald Reagan was inaugurated as President in 1981 he asked to see the War Room, only to be told that it was a fictional creation. Reagan acknowledged that he had been intrigued by the concept since seeing it in "Dr. Strangelove". Adam had a somewhat tumultuous relationship with Kubrick, whose habit of changing his mind at the last minute caused Adam enormous grief. However, the two collaborated again on "Barry Lyndon" and Adam won his first Oscar for his work on that film. Adam's close relationship with the Bond franchise is based on his now famous designs seen in the early films. They include the massive Fort Knox set for "Goldfinger", which was created entirely on the back lot at Pinewood Studios on the outskirts of London. Perhaps his greatest achievement was the gigantic volcano set that housed a full size rocket capable of lifting off. This was done for the 1967 Bond film "You Only Live Twice". Incredibly, Adam's work was not recognized with an Oscar nomination despite what many feel is one of the greatest production design achievements in film history. His other Bond films were "Thunderball", "Diamonds Are Forever", "The Spy Who Loved Me" and "Moonraker". For "The Spy Who Loved Me", Adam built the first incarnation of the massive "007 Stage" at Pinewood Studios. It burned down in 1984 and was rebuilt by his protege, production designer Peter Lamont.

Adam's other film achievements include two of the Michael Caine Harry Palmer spy films, "The Ipcress File" and "Funeral in Berlin", "Sleuth", "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" (for which he designed the famed "flying car"), "The Madness of King George" (for which he won a second Oscar), "The Last of Sheila", "Woman of Straw" and "Addams Family Values". He was also a prolific race car driver and had the distinction of serving in RAF in action against Hitler's forces, despite being a German national himself.

On a personal basis, Sir Ken was a good friend of Cinema Retro and had contributed to our magazine in its early stages through interviews conducted by his friend, Sir Christopher Frayling, who co-authored books about Sir Ken's remarkable life and career.He also contributed valuable interviews for documentaries we worked on about the Bond film franchise as well as "Dr. Strangelove". In his later years, Adam appeared at events pertaining to the Bond franchise that were held at Pinewood Studios by www.bondstars.com  With his laid back mannerisms, wry sense of humor and omnipresent cigar, he always delighted fans with his remarkable stories.  This writer sat next to him a few years ago to watch the digital screening of "Goldfinger" at Pinewood. Ken told me that he was incredulous at how wonderful it all looked. When the scene came to the interior of Fort Knox, he said to me, "I never thought I'd live to see my work presented so gloriously". It's safe to say we won't see his kind again.  

(For full interview with Sir Ken Adam, see Cinema Retro issue #2)

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Long regarded as one of Roger Corman's most ambitious and poignant films, "X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes" comes to Blu-ray as an impressive special edition from Kino Lorber. Corman became a legend by overseeing production of countless low-budget horror and exploitation films beginning in the late 1950s. What the movies lacked in budgetary aspects they more than made up for in terms of intelligent scripts and often creative technical processes that more than compensated for the skimpy budgets. Corman's films not only gave early breaks to a  new generation of actors and filmmakers, but he also helped resurrect flagging careers of veteran actors, one of whom was Ray Milland, who stars in this film. Milland was a Best Actor Oscar winner for the 1945 movie "The Lost Weekend" but by the 1960s his boxoffice appeal had waned. By teaming with Corman on "The Premature Burial" in 1962, Milland found he enjoyed acting in horror-based flicks. They also helped him pay the bills and maintain his status as a leading man, albeit in vehicles that critics generally dismissed as "B" movies. If Milland never became a legend through his association with horror films as Vincent Price did, his presence in these movies kept him on the radar screen and allowed him to occasionally nab  fine roles in  major Hollywood productions such as "Love Story", "Gold" and "The Last Tycoon". The success of "The Premature Burial" led to Milland reuniting with Corman for "X" the following the year. 

"X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes" presents Milland as Dr. James Xavier, a respected surgeon in a big city hospital who has an obsession for exploring the greater meaning of life. He is consumed by a belief that if people could be empowered to see through solid matter, they might learn the secrets the universe. Xavier has been working under a grant to explore these possibilities and the result is a serum that, if administered as eye drops, might allow a person to obtain X-ray vision. Against the advice of his colleagues who claim the serum hasn't been perfected yet, Xavier boldly administers the drops in his own eyes. The results are positive. He finds that, to a limited degree, he can indeed see through solid matter. However, the effects are temporary and unpredictable. Xavier tempts fate by continuing to up the dosage. This results in his being able to achieve extraordinary results. He finds he can see inside the human body and uses his skill to help correct misdiagnosed patients. His boss, head surgeon Dr. Willard Benson (John Hoyt) is skeptical of his claims and his best friend, Dr. Sam Brant (Harold J. Stone) refuses to assist him in his experiments on the basis that he perceives Xavier is suffering from psychological problems based on the serum he has been taking. In fact, Xavier is slowly being driven mad. By being able to see within virtually every object and person, he finds the mental anguish to be excruciating. He can't turn it off at will and is subject to often seeing the world through blinding psychedelic patterns that result in him acting irrational. His sole ally is his colleague Dr. Diane Fairfax (Diana Van der Vlis), a colleague who seems to have a romantic interest in him. Diane attempts to talk Xavier into stopping the experiments but he feels compelled to continue in the hope that eventually he will be able to unlock the secrets of life. Tragedy strikes when Xavier's irrational behavior results in the accidental death of a friend. Because he flees the scene, he becomes wanted for murder. By this point, the serum has wreaked havoc on his eyes, which now look surrealistic. To hide them, he wears an omnipresent pair of over-sized sunglasses. Desperate and alone, Xavier meets a carnival barker, Crane (Don Rickles), who soon understands the extraordinary power he possesses. Crane, an opportunist, convinces Xavier to appear at the carnival and use his power as a money-making gimmick. Xavier is appalled but consents out of financial necessity. However, when Crane begins to exploit sick people, Xavier flees the scene. Diane tracks him down and the two hurry to Las Vegas where Xaveri's X-ray vision results in him winning big. However, he doesn't know when to quit and suspicious casino staffers challenge him, turning his triumph into a debacle.The film's conclusion finds Xavier in a high speed car chase across the desert, pursued by police vehicle and helicopters. He stumbles on  a religious revival meeting being held in a tent by a charismatic, fanatical preacher (John Dierkes), whose sudden influence over Xavier results in the film's controversial and shocking final scene.

"X" is a fine film on all counts. Corman, who not only produced but also directed, never allows the fantastic premise of the story to drift into the area of the absurd. To his credit, Milland plays his role with the dignity he would have afforded to an "A" list part in a big budget film.  He gives a fine and compelling performance, as does everyone in the supporting cast including Rickles, who reminds us that he was once a dramatic actor before honing his skills as an insult comic. The intelligent script aspires to deal with issues that go beyond the standard horror/sci-fi film format. In this respect, it should be viewed on par with another similar film, "The Incredible Shrinking Man".  The movie also benefits from creative special effects, a fine score by Les Baxter and impressive cinematography by the legendary Floyd Crosby.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray is joy to view, not only because of the excellent transfer, but also due to the inclusion of two separate commentary tracks. On the first Corman discusses the film in detail, and with great affection. He also talks about his long term relationship with American International Pictures, a studio that allowed him virtually complete creative control over his productions. The result was a mutually beneficial partnership that lasted many years as the studio and Corman helped define each other. The second audio commentary track is by film historian Tim Lucas, whose knowledge not only of this specific film but of the genre itself is highly impressive. Not surprisingly, his grasp of the minor details involving the film's production exceeds that of Corman himself, who admits on his track that time has made his memory of certain aspects of the movie a bit hazy. (He incorrectly states that this was Don Rickles' first feature film, when, in fact, it was his fourth, having appeared in such high profile movies as "Run Silent, Run Deep" and "The Rat Race".) Both Corman and Lucas discuss in detail the film's controversial final frames, which I will not discuss here for fear of providing a spoiler. There is also a welcome video interview with director Joe Dante, who professes his love for the film from the first time he saw it as a kid. Dante also points out that the movie was originally titled simply "X" and remained so even in the print itself. He informs us that the subtitle "... The Man with the X-Ray Eyes" was added at the last minute for the print campaigns only. A segment from Dante's popular web site Trailers From Hell presents the movie's original trailer with an introduction and commentary by another contemporary director, Mick Garris.  The trailer also appears separately and when viewing it, one becomes of aware of how American International included the film's only humorous sequence simply for use in sexing up the trailer. It involves Xavier and Diane at a house party where Xavier finds his X-ray vision allows him to see everyone naked. Refreshingly, his ethics don't outweigh his libido and he does what any other guy would do: he keeps gawking. The trailer emphasizes this brief sequence as only an American International production could do. Another bonus included on the Blu-ray is the film's original prologue, a rather bizarre and pedantic slog that resembles those creaky old science documentaries that baby boomers were forced to watch in school auditoriums. The seemingly endless piece is boring and bland and Corman used excellent judgment in cutting it. Nevertheless, it makes for fascinating viewing today.

"X" was an important early success for Roger Corman. That it still stands the test of time as fine entertainment today is a testament to his skills as a producer and director.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

One of the most rewarding byproducts of reviewing movies for a living is that you will often encounter some prominent gem that somehow managed to escape your attention previously. In certain cases, it's arguable that a film might well be more appreciated many years later than it was during its initial release. Such a case pertains to the 1965 crime drama Once a Thief. Directed by the under-rated Ralph Nelson, the film successfully invokes the mood and atmosphere of the classic black-and-white film noir crime thrillers of the 1940s and 1950s. Although this movie was widely credited as being Alain Delon's first starring role in an English language production, he was among the all-star cast seen the previous year in the big budget Hollywood production of The Yellow Rolls Royce. It is accurate to say, however, that Once a Thief afforded him his first opportunity to be the male lead in a major American film. The film was also significant in that it provided Ann-Margret with her first opportunity to show her skills as a dramatic actress. Her meteoric rise to fame had resulted from her roles in the musicals State Fair, Bye Bye Birdie and, most recently, opposite Elvis Presley in the smash hit Viva Las Vegas. In 1964, she made her dramatic film debut in Kitten with a Whip playing a deceitful "bad girl" in a film so bad it ultimately ended up being "honored" as a segment on Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Another dramatic role the same year in The Pleasure Seekers was similarly unimpressive. However, 1965 proved to be her breakout year in terms of earning critical respect with back-to-back impressive performances in Bus Riley's Back in Town, Once a Thief and The Cincinnati Kid. Over the course of a few years, Ann-Margret would prove she was much more than just a talented singer and dancer. The decision to team her with Alain Delon proved to be an inspired one, as they practically smolder on screen together. 

The film opens in a hip jazz club. Over the credits, we watch an astounding drum solo by Russell Lee, the likes of which had not been seen on screen until last year's Whiplash. The viewer is immediately impressed by the camerawork of veteran cinematographer Robert Burks, who had shot numerous Hitchcock classics in the 1950s and, most recently, The Birds and Marnie. The crowd at the jazz club indicates before we even see an exterior shot that we are in a very progressive place. At a time when the American South was still deeply embroiled in attempting to practice segregation, we see that the customers of the jazz club consist of both black and white patrons, all grooving almost hypnotically to an African American musician, whose drum solo almost transcends what seems to be humanly possible. We soon learn that we are in San Francisco, the American city that would most prominently embrace the on-going cultural revolution. The scene quickly shifts to a couple of thugs who rob a liquor store and needlessly murder its owner, a middle-aged Chinese woman, in front of her horrified husband. The scene switches again, as we are introduced to Eddie Pedlak (Delon), a handsome young immigrant from Trieste who drives the same classic sports car and wears the same sheepskin coat that were identified with the gunman in the liquor store robbery. Still, if Eddie is hiding his participation in such a heinous crime, he is able to put on the ultimate poker face. He eagerly greets his gorgeous wife Kristine (Ann-Margret) and their young daughter Kathy (Tammy Locke). Although they live in a modest apartment in a poor neighborhood, Eddie is eager to show his wife and daughter a major investment he has just made. Driving them to the bay area, Eddie proudly brings them aboard a small private boat that he says he has just managed to put a down payment on. When Kristine asks how he could afford to do so, he says he had been secretly squirreling away money from his modest paycheck as a truck driver. Yet, the viewer is suspicious. We have just seen a man who seemed to match Eddie's description rob a liquor store. Could the funds have come from those ill-gotten gains? Veteran detective Mike Vido (Van Heflin) certainly thinks so. He is convinced that Eddie is the man who once shot him in the stomach some years earlier when he attempted to thwart a robbery that was in progress. Since then he has haunted Eddie and refused to believe that he has gone straight. Vido is convinced Eddie was the man behind the liquor store robbery and murder, though his boss, Lt. Kebner (Jeff Corey), chides Vido for allowing his personal obsession with nailing Eddie for a crime to cloud his better judgment. 

For much of the screenplay by Zekial Marko, who adapted the script from his own novel, the story plays like a modern version of Hugo's Les Miserables, with Eddie as the Jean Valjean character- a once minor criminal now trying to go straight-  and Vido as the relentless detective Javert, who is determined to prove he is still engaged in illegal activities. Marko's script rings with a feel for street life and has an authenticity not found in most crime movies of this era. (Marko also turns in a sterling supporting performance as a career criminal who is acquainted with Eddie.) Vido's constant harassment of Eddie costs the young man several jobs, including his latest occupation as a trucker. In the film's most poignant sequence, he applies for unemployment insurance and must deal with an emotionless bureaucrat who tries to deny him benefits based on his criminal past. It's a moving and very emotional sequence and it's superbly played by Delon, who demonstrates that Eddie is a man at the end of his rope. The film takes an unexpected turn when he is acquitted of the liquor store robbery/murder, but his career is in ruins and he is distraught at his inability to provide for his family. Against his wishes, Kristine takes a night job as a waitress. This being 1965, Eddie is shamed by the fact that his wife has become the family breadwinner. He barely tolerates the situation until he learns that Kristine is actually  employed by a nightclub and is being forced to pose as a single woman and wear a revealing uniform. He goes into a rage and forces her to quit. Their once happy marriage is now a shambles. At this point, fate intervenes with the unwelcome appearance of Eddie's older brother Walter (Jack Palance) who tries to enlist him in a major robbery of platinum from an industrial complex where Eddie recently worked. Walter estimates the haul to be worth over a million dollars but he and his sleazy henchmen need Eddie's knowledge of the place. At first Eddie heeds Kristine's pleas not to get sucked back into the world of crime, but with financial pressure building and no prospects for a legitimate job, he reluctantly consents to help plan the caper. The latter part of the film depicts the enactment of the plan, which is imaginatively staged and is filled with suspense. As these things generally turn out in crime movies, the robbery is a success, but double crosses between Walter and his henchmen prove to have disastrous consequences. Eddie finds himself marked for death and must enlist the most unlikely of allies- Detective Vido- when he learns that his daughter has been kidnapped and is being held for ransom until he turns the platinum over to his former partners. 

Once a Thief offers a treasure trove of superior performances. In addition to Delon's impressive work, Ann-Margret excels as the young wife and mother who simply wants a "normal" life. We see her transformed from a happy-go-lucky woman who is both a doting mom and vibrant woman with a healthy love life (she is married to Alain Delon, after all) to a nerve-wracked emotional basket case who must cope with her husband being marked for death even as he frantically promises to get back their kidnapped daughter.  Van Heflin brings understated dignity to the role of the world-weary detective and Palance does what Palance did best: play a charismatic heavy.  The real scene-stealer is character actor  John Davis Chandler as Walter's chief henchman, James Sargatanas. He is creepy to look at, with a slim build, premature white hair and omnipresent sun glasses. He resembles the guys from the hit team played by Lee Marvin and Clu Gulager  in Don Siegel's 1964 version of The Killers - - only he's somehow even more menacing than those psychopaths were. This should have been a star-making role for Chandler, but it was not to be. Another familiar face among the crooks is Tony Musante, who would go on to appear in many memorable crime flicks. A special word about young Tammy Locke, who plays Kathy. She was only six years old when she appeared in the film and gave an amazingly accomplished performance.  Director Nelson always possessed a skill at emphasizing the human aspects of his films and this one is no exception. You care deeply about the protagonists and their individual dilemmas. The film ratchets up the suspense in the final moments and Nelson manages to avoid a cliched happy ending. 

The Warner Archive DVD boasts an excellent transfer and includes the original trailer and a very interesting production short in which we see composer Lalo Schifrin discussing with Ralph Nelson his theories for scoring the film. During an era in which film composers were largely taken for granted, it's nice to see the spotlight on Schifrin, who has been responsible for some of the most memorable TV and film scores of all time. Put this title on your "must-have" list.  

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

When it was announced that producer Elliott Kastner had succeeded in signing both Marlon Brando and Jack Nicholson for the 1976 Western, The Missouri Breaks, the project was viewed as a "can't miss" at the international box-office. This would be Brando's first film since his back-to-back triumphs in The Godfather and Last Tango in Paris and Nicholson had just won the Best Actor Oscar for "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". The two Hollywood icons were actually neighbors who lived next door to each other, but they had never previously teamed for a film project. Kastner, whose prowess as a street-wise guy who used unorthodox methods to get films off the ground, had used a clever tactic to sign up both superstars: he told each man that the other had already committed to the project, when, in fact, neither had. With Brando and Nicholson aboard, Kastner hired a respected director, Arthur Penn, who had worked with Brando ten years before on The Chase. He then chose an acclaimed novelist, Thomas McGuane, who had recently made his directorial debut with 92 in the Shade, to write the screenplay. What emerged from all these negotiations was a seemingly "can't miss" boxoffice blockbuster in the making. Alas, it was not to be. Upon its release, critics emphasized the "Miss" aspect of the The Missouri Breaks, with most reviewers citing the opinion that the film was a long, slow slog interrupted up a hammy, over-the-top comic performance from Brando, who Penn apparently exercised little control over when it came to the actor's penchant for improvisation. 

The film opens with cattle baron David Braxton (John McLiam) "hosting" a lynching for a rapt audience of his ranch hands. Seems the intended victim has rustled some of his cattle and McLiam is determined to put an end to the thievery, which has reduced his overall business income by 7% per year- a statistic he never tires of griping about. McLiam's hardball tactics against the rustlers don't sit well with his otherwise adoring daughter Jane (Kathleen Lloyd), an independent-thinking young woman who has acted as her father's most trusted companion since her mother left him for another man years ago. The victim of the lynching was a member of a rustling gang headed by Tom Logan (Jack Nicholson), who befriends Braxton on the pretense that he wants to purchase a plot of land on his property to establish a small farm. In reality, he wants to utilize the land to temporarily house stolen horses which his gang has gone to Canada to obtain in a daring operation against the Royal Canadian Mounted Police's stables. Meanwhile, Jane- who lives a life of relative isolation on her father's estate-is immediately smitten by the charismatic Tom Logan and when she insists that he become her first lover, he finds it impossible to resist. Thus, Logan is now in a romantic relationship with a girl who is the daughter of a man he is deceiving and stealing from. David Braxton goes all-out in his obsession with thwarting the rustlers. He hires Lee Clayton, a renowned "regulator", which is a polite term for bounty hunter. Clayton is an eccentric man with a bizarre personality who speaks in a heavy Irish brogue, but also at times utilizes other accents. He is at times charming and amusing and at other times fiery-tempered and unpredictable. Upon being introduced to Tom Logan by Braxton, Clayton immediately suspects he is not a farmer, but a rustler. The two men play a cat-and-mouse game, each one employing double-entendres in their conversations. When Logan's men return from Canada empty-handed after being thwarted by the Mounties, Clayton becomes an omnipresent figure, observing their every move from afar through binoculars. One by one, he systematically murders the members of the rustling gang, always preceding their horrendous deaths by chatting with the doomed men in disarmingly friendly tones. Clayton becomes so frightening a figure that even Braxton becomes intimidated by him and attempts to fire him, but Clayton says the money is irrelevant and that once he commits to a job, he sees it through. The stage is set for a mano-a-mano confrontation between Logan and Clayton that both men realize will see only one emerge alive. 

It's easy to see why The Missouri Breaks didn't catch on with audiences. Much of the film moves at a glacial pace, but McGuane's script is intelligent and the dialogue often witty. Brando's outrageous antics easily overshadow anyone else in the film, even though his appearances are fleeting and the lion's share of the screen time is dominated by Nicholson. Brando seems to be having a field day and there seems to be no limit to his improvisations. (At one point he is dressed as a Chinese peasant and in another he is inexplicably attired as a woman, complete with apron and bonnet.) He also has a penchant for making some uncomfortably romantic overtures to his horse.   Thus, the character of Clayton proves to be a distraction from the otherwise somber, realistic tone of the film. Nevertheless, there is no doubt that Brando's appearances are both amusing and somewhat mesmerizing, even if out of place. The movie boasts a first rate supporting cast that includes Harry Dean Stanton, Frederic Forrest and a young and slim Randy Quaid. Kathleen Lloyd holds her own against the considerable star power of Brando and Nicholson, which could not have been an easy feat. Alas, stardom was not to follow for her, though she still occasionally appears as a guest star in popular TV series. Where the movie disappoints the most is in its climax. The audience has been led to expect a memorable confrontation between Logan and Clayton, but when one of them gets the upper hand on the other, it's done very abruptly and rather unimaginatively, leaving the viewer feeling cheated. The movie boasts a low-key but appropriately atmospheric score by John Williams and impressive cinematography by Michael Butler. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray looks sensational in the outdoor sequences but the dimly lit interiors have a degree of grain to them, which may have been intended by Butler.  An original theatrical trailer has been included.  

After The Missouri Breaks, Brando seemed uninspired and went on automatic pilot in terms of his film roles. He was paid a relative fortune for what amounted to extended cameos in Superman and Apocalypse Now, and while he was a significant physical presence in both films, no one made the case that he exerted himself dramatically. He would find occasional enthusiasm in certain roles (an Oscar-nominated turn in the little-seen  A Dry White Season and a hilarious performance recreating his Don Corleone role for The Freshman), but his enthusiasm seemed to diminish in direct proportion to his increase in weight. Sadly, he would never totally recapture the mojo he once enjoyed as a screen icon. Yet, time has been kind to The Missouri Breaks. The film's literate script and direction are a reminder of an era in which such projects would be green-lit by major studios who appealed to the intellect of movie audiences. Today, the project would never have seen fruition no matter who starred in it.  

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

With American crime TV series now an almost indistinguishable jumble of action-oriented plots featuring calendar model-type male and female leads, it's nice to revisit an era when the pace was slower, the plots were more intelligent and the stars resembled everyday people. Case in point: the old "Columbo" series starring Peter Falk, a product of the late 1960s  that became so phenomenally successful that its lifespan  into the early 2000's. The show would appear regularly- and later occasionally- in the format of a 90 minute TV movie when such fare was all the rage on network TV.  The show premiered as a "one-shot" production titled "Prescription: Murder" in 1968 but the character of Columbo became so popular that he became a mainstay of the NBC Mystery Movie", a weekly program in the 1970s in which popular actors were seen  as sleuths. The format allowed each star (Falk, Rock Hudson, Dennis Weaver and Richard Boone)  to be seen on alternating weeks. "Columbo" became Falk's signature role as the frumpy, seemingly idiotic L.A. police detective who used these characteristics to intellectually disarm his adversaries. Every episode allowed the viewer to see precisely who committed a presumably perfect crime. Inevitably, the culprit would be an elitist, well-established snob- predominantly a male, but occasionally female. The principal villain was also generally played by a major star, thus allowing viewers the delight of seeing actors who generally portrayed heroic figures to engage in some mustache-twirling as bad guys. The most delightful aspect of the series, aside from the intricate plot lines, were the sequences in which Columbo slowly closes the noose around his prey. Both detective and suspect know what is going on but they engage in civility toward each other as the culprit goes through the motions of pretending he is helping Columbo solve the crime. Columbo was unlike any of the slick, sophisticated TV detectives audiences had grown accustomed to. He was generally clad in a crumpled trench coat and drove a laughably battered 1959 Peugeot 403 convertible with the only apparent accessory a working police radio. Falk's inimitable New York mannerisms and speech patterns gave him a "fish-out-of-water" quality no matter who he interacted with, including his fellow police officers. Finishing off his unsophisticated appearance was his omnipresent cheap cigar, which he would smoke everywhere, including mansion houses where he was investigating crimes. (Like Clint Eastwood's Man With No Name, we never quite see him with a fresh cigar in his mouth, only a half-stogie that appeared to be as much chewed as smoked.)

Netflix is now presenting the various seasons of "Columbo" that were aired on NBC. (The show's revival in the late 1980s was seen on ABC.) One standout episode in a history of standout episodes is "By Dawn's Early Light", which was originally telecast in October, 1974. (The show can be found in the Season 4 category on Netflix.) Patrick McGoohan is cast as Col. Lyle C. Rumford,  a gruff, spit-and-polish career soldier  who is in charge of an illustrious military school.  When we first see him, he is painstakingly disassembling the shell for a ceremonial canon and modifying it so that it will be an instrument of murder. We soon meet the intended victim: William Haynes (Tom Simcox), the grandson of the school's legendary founder. Haynes has a confrontational meeting with Rumford in the colonel's office. They discuss the fact that enrollment in the school has plummeted dramatically in recent years due to the aversion of boys who want to pursue a military career. (Keep in mind the episode was shot during the period in which the United States still had a presence in Vietnam.) Haynes has developed a plan to ensure the school's economic survival by making it a coed institution. Rumford is appalled by the idea and intends to thwart its implementation by having Haynes killed when he fires the canon at the school's Founder's Day event. He will achieve this by adjusting the explosives inside the shell canister then stuffing a rag into the barrel of the weapon. The ploy works: when Haynes fires the canon, it explodes and kills him in front of hundreds of horrified on-lookers. Rumford thinks he has gotten away with murder and ensured that the school will continue as an all-male institution with him in charge. But, as they say in detective films, the plot thickens when Columbo arrives on scene. To state any more specifics would ruin the enjoyment of the episode, which is one of the best. The sheer pleasure of seeing Falk squaring off on camera with McGoohan is a true delight and the episode was so well received that McGoohan won an Emmy for his performance. Adding to the pleasures are the high production values. The episode was filmed on location at The Citadel military college in Charleston and this allowed the producers a degree of authenticity that would have been difficult to replicate on a back lot. The episode also benefited from the inspired direction of Harvey Hart, who also directed such feature films as "Bus Riley's Back in Town", "The Sweet Ride" and "Fortune and Men's Eyes." If you're going to engage in some binge-watching, you would be hard-pressed to find a better companion than Lt. Columbo. 

(Trivia note: keep an eye out for young Bruno Kirby, who plays one of the cadets.)  

For an essay about this episode, visit the How Sweet It Was site by clicking here.  

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By Lee Pfeiffer

In the wake of unexpected critical acclaim for director Richard Lester's A Hard Day's Night in 1964, studios scrambled to emulate the success of that first feature film starring The Beatles. Over a period of a few years, many bands found themselves top-lining major feature films. Most were mindless exploitation films, a few others more ambitious in their goals. Fitting snugly into the latter category was Having a Wild Weekend (released in the UK under the title Catch Us If You Can.)  The film represents the only movie starring the Dave Clark Five, one of the more popular bands to emerge during that marvelous era in the 1960s when Great Britain shed its post WWII doldrums and came to dominate international pop culture. The band was one of many who rode the coattails of The Beatles to the top of the charts, but they had their own unique style of songs and music that resulted in some memorable hit songs that still hold up well today. At one point, the DC5 was so popular that they appeared on The Ed Sulllivan Show more than any other British band. Their feature film debut is impressive only in the sense that it afforded a young documentary maker named John Boorman the opportunity to make his feature film directorial debut. There is scant evidence that Boorman possessed the kind of unique vision that would result in Point Blank only two years later and Deliverance five years after that, but Weekend is different from most teen idol movies of the era both in terms of its visual content as well as its message. The script is also unique in that the DC5 don't appear as themselves, thus its the only film of its kind that doesn't showcase the band members playing music on screen. In fact, they don't even play musicians, but rather, stuntmen who are employed to appear in an expensive nationwide British ad campaign designed to encourage meat eating. This rather uncommercial message is prettied up by having the campaign center on a perky, sexy young blonde named Dinah (Barbara Ferris), who is an omnipresent force in London, appearing on billboards and TV ads to promote the meat industry in a fun way. The DC5 appear with her as window dressing, always in the background of the ads. During the shooting of a particularly frustrating TV commercial taping, Dinah and her boyfriend Steve (Dave Clark) engage in an abrupt act of rebellion by stealing a sports car they drive in the ad and absconding to an island that Dinah hopes to retire to. This sets in motion a massive search by the advertising agency executives that becomes a nationwide obsession. Rumors circulate that Steve has kidnapped Dinah, something that turns out to be an unexpected boon for the ad agency since it results in a great deal of free publicity for "The Meat Girl". Steve and Dinah's directionless meanderings around the island prove to be less joyful than expected. They encounter a colony of hippies but find they are as shallow as the Establishment types they are rebelling against. They also blunder into the middle of military war games in the film's zaniest and least credible sequence. Ultimately the other members of the DC5 join them but even they are being pursued by agents for the advertising agency as well as local police. Steve brings them to a farm run by a boyhood idol who he used to visit as a child only to find he has "sold out" too and is looking to use Dinah as a tourist attraction. Disillusioned, Steve and Dinah ultimately come face to face with their employers and Steve gets a downbeat life lesson on how shallow even Dinah's principals can be.

Having a Wild Weekend is a strangely humorless film with the DC5 songs rather awkwardly interwoven. Even a sequence (filmed in Bath) that depicts a massive, wild costume party doesn't deliver the amusement you might expect. However, it does offer the unique opportunity to see people dressed as Stan Laurel, the Marx Brothers and Frankenstein cavorting in the ancient Roman baths.  Dave Clark has movie star looks and admirable screen presence. He should have pursued a career as an actor. However, the other band members have scant opportunity to present themselves as individuals. This includes lead singer Mike Smith, who sang most of the group's hit songs even though Clark would lip synch to them in live appearances to appear as though he sang them on the recordings. Plot angles appear promisingly but get dropped abruptly including a potentially promising sequence in which Steve and Dinah are invited home by a middle aged couple (excellently played by Robin Bailey and Yootha Joyce) who turn out to be setting them up for some sexual swinging. Director Boorman eschews studio sets for actual locations and this gives the movie a sense of vibrancy it might otherwise have lacked. Manny Wynn's black and white cinematography does justice to the British countryside and he presents the action through some interesting camera angles.

The downbeat storyline won praise from critics at the time because it so deftly avoids emulating the ridiculously cheery productions that were generally aimed at teens. It holds up well as a curiosity and affords some nostalgic insights into a time when the counterculture movement was on the verge of exploding. The DVD presentation by the Warner Archive presents a crisp, clean transfer sans any extras. One hopes that someday, Dave Clark might be asked to participate in a special edition of the movie.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Sony has released director Richard Brooks' 1965 screen adaptation of Joseph Conrad's Lord Jim as a burn-to-order DVD title. The novel, written in 1899, centers on Jim, an idealistic young man who fulfills his dream of being a highly regarded officer on a commercial cargo vessel in southeast Asia. All is going well for him under the guidance of his mentor, ship's captain Marlowe. However, when an injury causes Jim to convalesce for an extended period, he ends up on a rickety freighter under the command of an unscrupulous captain who is transporting hundreds of Muslim pilgrims. When the ship founders, the captain and his cowardly crew abandon ship, leaving the pilgrims to face what appears to be certain death. To his own astonishment, Jim spontaneously opts to join them in order to save his own life. When the ragged survivors finally make port, they are shocked to find that the ship was rescued- and Jim and his fellow crew members are now tarnished as cowards. The tale delves into Jim's psychological woes caused by an omnipresent sense of guilt. In the film version, Jim (played by Peter O'Toole) attempts to regain some honor by willingly testifying at a legal hearing that he did indeed act in a cowardly fashion. This only brings him scorn from his fellow British mariners who accuse him of tarring them all with the scandal. Morose and plagued by guilt, Jim works at menial jobs on the docks, trying to fade into obscurity but his notoriety follows him everywhere. Ultimately, he meets Stein (Paul Lukas), an aging intellectual who hires Jim for a dangerous mission to secretly transport arms and ammunition to a remote jungle village where the people have fallen under the dictatorial rule of a local warlord known as The General (Eli Wallach). Stein hopes that the delivery of these weapons will inspire the long-suffering people to revolt against their oppressor. Jim, feeling his life is meaningless, readily accepts the mission, even though it is considered near-suicidal. Against all odds, he manages to get the weapons into the hands of the villagers. He is proclaimed a local hero for doing so and in short order he finds a new acceptance among these people who know nothing of his shameful past. He forms a romantic bond with a local girl (Daliah Lavi) and begins to train the local men as armed combatants. They engage the General and his forces in an all out assault from which they emerge triumphant. Jim is suddenly thrust into the role of local hero and is proclaimed "Lord" by the grateful villagers. A period of peace and joy comes to the area- until intruders from the outside world arrive who seek to take religious treasures from the temple by force of arms. Suddenly Jim is once again forced to summon his courage to save the local people from further exploitation. 

Lord Jim was an expensive production back in the day and was heavily promoted as an equally prestigious follow-up to Peter O'Toole's back-to-back triumphs in Lawrence of Arabia and Becket. The project seemed to be a sure-fire proposition, given all the talent involved and the fact that Richard Brooks was a highly acclaimed director. Yet, for all the build-up, the production proved to be a flop with critics and a commercial dud. What went wrong? Viewing the film today, Brooks' own screenplay is rather schizophrenic and never provides a clear understanding of Jim. At the beginning of the movie he's an innocent Walter Mitty type (Brooks even throws in groan-inducing fantasy bubbles that appear in Jim's mind depicting him engaging in acts of derring do.) Then Jim becomes a relentless, morose symbol of self-pity before transforming himself overnight into a virtual super hero. (It is never explained how this simple ship's first officer is able to spontaneously concoct military strategies and invent innovative weaponry as though he were a 19th century version of 007's "Q"). O'Toole carries the gentle, angelic hero stuff to extremes and the New York Times' Bosley Crowther commented at the time that he looks as though he is perpetually about to burst into tears. Brooks also indulges in heavy-handed religious symbolism with Jim carrying out self-sacrifices in order to save the innocents around him. As with most films of this era, local native populations, though treated sympathetically, come across as the white man's burden. Jim's love interest, played by Daliah Lavi, looks like she stepped out of a Beverly Hills spa and in one absurd sequence is seeing ironing what appear to be curtains as he discusses committing suicide! (Keep in mind this is taking place in a remote jungle village in the 19th century so one wonders how big a priority ironing might have been.)  There is also no indication that the virginal Jim ever compromises his Christ-like persona by consummating his relationship with the girl (who is never named.) That may be noble for Jim, but it sure as hell makes their on-screen relationship a bore. The battle scenes are exciting and well-staged and Freddie Young's 70mm cinematography is as gorgeous as you would expect, though it is somewhat diluted by the fact that Brooks films large sections of the film within the obvious confines of studio sets. Similarly, the pivotal scenes of a ship in a storm-tossed sea are very obviously shot with miniatures. There is an excellent supporting cast with Lukas giving a fine performance as Jim's father figure, James Mason as an aristocratic cutthroat who leads an expedition of thieves into the village, Curt Jurgens, especially good as a cowardly opportunist businessman and Akim Tamiroff as, well, a typical Akim Tamiroff character (i.e. an amusing low-life). If you can get past the fact that Eli Wallach, a Jewish guy from Brooklyn, plays the only Asian warlord with a hairy chest, you can enjoy his wry performance, though the character is poorly defined. Jack Hawkins makes brief appearances as Captain Marlowe and provides narration for the early scenes, though this device is promptly dropped by Brooks and never reappears. 

The film is a quasi-epic that can't be called even a quasi-classic. It clocks in at 254 minutes, not exceptionally long if a film is engrossing enough, but at times the pace of Brooks' direction makes the story rather taxing to stick with. Nevertheless, Lord Jim looks better today than it did at the time of its initial release perhaps because it features so many talented artists who are no longer with us.

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By Lee Pfeiffer 

Released four years before the comedy smash Airplane!, the film that inspired it remains relatively obscure to all but the most devoted retro movie lovers. The Big Bus was Paramount's spoof of the disaster movie genre which had peaked in 1974 with the release of two blockbusters- Earthquake and The Towering Inferno- and one other major hit, Airport '75. The genre then ran out of steam just as The Big Bus went into production, which might explain why it was received anemically by both audiences and critics. Yet, it's a film with many pleasures and it is consistently amusing throughout. The Big Bus delivers some giggles whereas Airplane! provides many belly laughs. The genius  actor of Airplane!, however, is that the producers had the wisdom to cast three of Hollywood's great stone faces- Robert Stack, Lloyd Bridges and Leslie Nielsen- in comedic roles that surprised audiences. In fact, it revitalized all three actor's careers with their deft handling of absurd situations. The casting of The Big Bus was not as innovative because virtually every actor involved had been known for their work in comedies. However, it is an inspired cast that includes Joseph Bologna and Stockard Channing in the lead roles and a wonderful group of talented second bananas that includes Sally Kellerman, Richard Mulligan, Stuart Margolin, Jose Ferrer, Harold Stone, Larry Hagman, Richard B. Shull, Ned Beatty, Rene Auberjonois, Ruth Gordon, Bob Dishy, Lynn Redgrave, Vic Tayback and Vito Scotti. The only surprise is the comedic talents of John Beck, who had a short-lived career as a dramatic heart throb in the mid-to-late 1970s.

The plot concerns the debut run of a super spectacular bus that is powered by nuclear energy. The maiden voyage of "The Cyclops" finds the usual diverse group of passengers that permeate any disaster movie: a battling married couple, a quirky priest, a discredited hero looking to salvage his reputation, his one-time lover, a terminally ill man trying to enjoy his remaining days, a cranky old lady, etc. The bus is being piloted by Bologna, who plays a driver who has been alienated by his colleagues because of suspicion that he devoured the passengers on a previous journey that found his vehicle stranded in the mountains. (He maintains his innocence by insisting he only ate one foot that was surreptitiously placed in a stew made up of seat cushions!) His ex-girl friend, Channing, is the designer of the bus and is on board for the maiden journey. Along the way an eccentric millionaire oil man who is in an iron lung (Ferrer) schemes to sabotage the bus with a bomb in order to thwart the advancement of nuclear energy. Much of the humor relates to the production design aspects of the bus interior which is over-the-top tacky even in the era of leisure suits and wide ties. There is a garish decor complete with an omnipresent lounge singer who works every disaster along the way into one of his cheesy vocal numbers. The provides the requisite rapid fire jokes, some of which fall completely flat while others resonate quite well. The cast is in top form and everyone seems to be having a great time with each star given their moments to shine. One of the problems is that the bus, which was supposed to seem like an absurd concept in 1976, no longer generates many laughs partly because such monstrosities are now in operation in our major cities (minus the nuclear power, of course). The film culminates in a witty and very inspired cliff-hanger ending that is an homage to the fabled finale of the original version of The Italian Job. 

The Big Bus was available years ago on Paramount DVD but has been out of circulation for some time. Happily, it is now available through the Warner Archive. The picture is crisp and clean throughout, though -as with most Paramount titles- it is devoid of any bonus extras. The film pales in comparison to Airplane! but any retro movie lover with a passion for disaster movies of the era will find it an amusing experience. 

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Bryan Forbes, who personified the golden age of British cinema in the post-WWII era, has died at age 86. Forbes started out as an actor before morphing into a screenwriter and esteemed director. He teamed with Richard Attenborough to form a film production company. Among their films was The Angry Silence, an acclaimed 1960 movie in which both men starred. It dealt squarely with England's omnipresent tensions between business leaders and union members. Forbes co-wrote the screenplay and produced the movie. His high profile films as director include such British classics as Whistle Down the Wind, Seance on a Wet Afternoon, The Wrong Box, The Whisperers, King Rat, Deadfall, The Slipper and the Rose, The L-Shaped Room, International Velvet as well as the hit 1975 Hollywood horror flick The Stepford Wives. Forbes also wrote or co-wrote the screenplays for some of these films as well as the comedy classic The League of Gentlemen and director Attenborough's Chaplin. Forbes had been nominated for an Oscar for his screenplay for The Angry Silence and had won a BAFTA for the same script. He had been nominated for numerous other BAFTA awards and was given a lifetime achievement honor by the organization in 2007. For more click here

By Lee Pfeiffer

Impulse Films has released two vintage erotic titles, Serena: An Adult Fairy Tale and Same Time Every Year. The most surprising element of both titles is that they are hard-core porn, but they are being accorded mainstream status through an aggressive promotional campaign by the DVD label, which is a division of Synapse Films. What is enjoyable about the Synapse catalog is the sheer diversity of their releases, ranging from classic and cult horror films to the notorious Nikkatsu Japanese soft-core titles (which are accorded Citizen Kane-like treatment, complete with extensive liner notes and poster reproductions.). These new titles don't get the same tender, loving care, but they are accorded "respectable" status nonetheless.

Serena: An Adult Fairy Tale- is a 1980 spin on the Cinderella legend, albeit of a kind that would have dear old Walt Disney spinning in his grave. Serena (played by an actress known as Serena), is a teenage sexpot who is sold into modern slavery by an evil stepfather. In her new "home", she is abused both sexually and psychologically. In between doing back-breaking housework, Serena is routinely called upon to satisfy her new mistress and her other female household guests. She's also used for sexual pleasure by a string of male visitors to the house. There isn't a social message being made here about the horrors of modern sex slavery, as Serena seems even more perturbed when she is left out of the action. The razor-thin "plot" finds the females of the house preparing for a big party for some hunky males (in this case, "grand ball" takes on an entirely different meaning.) Serena has been banished to her room as the other girls enjoy the orgy. She is visited by an equally sexy female supernatural presence who grants her wish to be able to attend the festivities. Presto! Serena suddenly appears at the party and predictably steals all the attention away from the egotistical women who have long mistreated her. Familiar faces from the era appear in the movie, including China Leigh and Jamie Gillis. Perhaps not coincidentally, the running time of the film is 69 minutes.

Same Time Every Year- was shot in 1981 and centers on an amusing scenario in which a group of male friends pretend each year that they must leave town for a business convention, leaving their wives back home. In fact, they are meeting their mistresses for wild sexual encounters. Meanwhile, the not-so-desperate housewives are all too happy to go along with the scenario, as it gives them an opportunity to get it on with a string of male and female lovers of their own. That's pretty much it. As with Serena, the movie was remastered from original 35mm film elements. (The opening and end titles show a lot of wear, but we have to remember these were not preserved in the Library of Congress) and, for the most part, quality is very good. The cast in this one includes the omnipresent China Leigh, Loni Sanders, Herschel Savage, Holly McCall and an impossibly svelte Ron Jeremy, before he indulged in the Marlon Brando dietary plan. There is also a credit for Boo, The Wonder Horse, but don't panic- the action never gets that kinky.

Both films are "directed" (so to speak) by one Fred J. Lincoln, whose apparent "legit" claim to fame is having appeared in Wes Craven's original Last House on the Left.  A look at his IMDB credits shows Mr. Lincoln must be the hardest working man in the porn industry, having cranked out many dozens of titles right up through today, including some with some name recognition such as Dallas Does Debbie the infamous 1970s flick The Defiance of Good that preceded the Traci Lords scandal when it was revealed that the movie's female lead, Jean Jennings, was under age.

I suppose that one's ability to wax nostalgic about porn movies very much depends upon your receptiveness to the genre itself, as well as the era in which you grew up.  Back in the pre-home video day, it was considered an upscale experience when a porn film was shot in 35mm. These "expensive" productions drew large audiences and sometimes played for years in the same theater. The quality still exceeds today's boring adult fare in the sense that, at least some degree of film making skill was required behind the camera. There are also some hints of production values, with occasional glimpses of opulent homes and settings. Probably the biggest difference between then and now is that the actors actually resembled real people in those days. There's an abundance of hair and sweat, but the cast members actually look real people, as opposed to the Botox and silicone-injected, indistinguishable robots who populate today's boring erotic videos.

There are no extras on the DVDs, which is too bad because it would be interesting to hear Fred J. Lincoln's insights on how the porn business has changed over the decades. Nevertheless, if you're not offended by these types of things, the Impulse releases will bring back some good (and naughty) memories.

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By Todd Garbarini

The Definitive Document of the Dead is the latest incarnation of director Roy Frumkes’s insightful behind-the-scenes look at the making of George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (1978), a film that has achieved a level of adoration and cult status that is truly amazing given that it was released unrated at a time when such a maneuver was considered box office poison. No doubt increasing in popularity after its release on VHS (this is where Yours Truly first saw it in the summer of 1985), Dawn has become the zombie film by which all others are measured. What this 16mm documentary illustrates brilliantly is the creative process that a director must go through, and it conveys it extremely well to the average moviegoer who may not have the slightest idea as to how a movie is made. It looks at its subject from the standpoint of filmmaking as an art form, and at one point director Romero, with omnipresent cigarette in hand, even compares the process to painting, and how an artist uses watercolors and “accidents” in their final work. Dawn went into production in October 1977 at the Monroeville Mall in Monroeville, Pennsylvania and lasted approximately six months (if you believe the Internet Movie Database) and thankfully Mr. Frumkes actively sought and was given access to the mall set over a weekend in January of 1978 (my guess is that this was the third or fourth week of that month as the archival footage shows the entire exterior of the mall blanketed in snow; the entire Northeast had suffered a snowfall of one to nearly two feet at that time).

Most documentaries that appear on DVD and Blu-ray nowadays are nothing more than self-promotion pieces. The Definitive Document of the Dead, on the other hand, actually takes you behind the scenes of the film and enlightens the viewer on the creative process, specifically the teamwork and the collaborative nature of the people working on the film. Mr. Frumkes talks to Tom Savini, Michael Gornick, John Amplas, Richard Rubenstein, the cast of Dawn, and of course director Romero himself (it’s interesting to note that filming had to be suspended from Thanksgiving until just after Christmas as decorations populated the mall. Of course, nowadays Christmas starts being promoted as early as the end of August, something probably completely unheard of 35 years ago!). The documentary gives us a great look into Mr. Romero's creative methods of filmmaking; he is quite candid about how he makes movies and discusses how he feels about being compared to Alfred Hitchcock with his 1968 film Night of the Living Dead. The comparison probably stems from the fact that the opening scenes look like a throwback to silent cinema storytelling, and that is an area that Night excels at, giving visual information to the audience and pulling us into the movie. There is mention of Howard Hawks’s film version of The Thing, released in 1951, as the movie that introduced Mr. Romero to horror and the idea of confined spaces made him want to make movies. Another pivotal film that is not touched upon in this documentary (but is mentioned on the newly-recorded commentary provided by Mr. Frumkes) is Michael Powell and Emerich Pressburger's The Tales of Hoffmann, also from 1951, a film that was an enormous influence on Mr. Romero and aided in the creation of his own personal visual style. He also talks about how actor Duane Jones, the lead black actor in Night, was chosen simply because he was the best actor who auditioned for the role, squashing rumors that he was making a statement about the black man’s struggles in a white man’s world. Naturally, this draws comparisons to Ken Foree’s role in Dawn. Richard Rubenstein also weighs in and discusses the European style of producing, and how Dario Argento and his brother Claudio co-financed Dawn. Dawn was originally a much darker picture with a very down and bleak ending. As shooting progressed, the film took on a comic bookish feel and there is an obvious lightening up of mood. Whereas Mr. Romero had a crew of about eight people on Martin (1977), Dawn has a cast and crew in the hundreds. The most fascinating part of the documentary has Mr. Romero describing the rhythms created by editing and spatial design. Prior to his foray into feature filmmaking, Mr. Romero honed his editing skills by making many 30-second commercials (like Sir Ridley Scott who made roughly 3000(!) prior to The Duellists (1977) and Alien (1979).

After a discussion about the distribution of the film and leaving it unrated with a running time of just over two hours, the documentary switches gears to the 1989 summer filming of Two Evil Eyes (1991). Mr. Romero discusses how he wants a family atmosphere on the set without any of the political Hollywood nonsense. There is also a follow-up segment on Land of the Dead (2005) which focuses on Mr. Romero's daughter, Tina Romero, who discusses how she got involved in filmmaking. Be warned: there is a trailer for a hard-core sex parody of Night, and I'll let your imagination guess what the title of this film is! While this trailer does not contain any overt sex, there is much nudity.

There is also footage of the Chiller Theatre convention in 2005 which features a reunion of the cast of Day of the Dead, discussions with Greg Nicotero, Bill Lustig, and some of the cast and crew of Dawn. The final segments, all of which are shot on standard definition video, ends with Mr. Frumkes heading to the Toronto set of Diary of the Dead in the fall of 2006. While these last few segments are nowhere near as incisive as the footage shot for Dawn, they still are relevant, fun to watch and make The Definitive Document of the Dead a worthy addition to the libraries of Romero fans.

This documentary has been available on home video several times before. It first made the rounds in 1985, and I first time I saw it was four years later when it was released on VHS. It also appears on Dawn of the Dead: the Ultimate Edition, which was released on DVD in September 2004. Synapse Films then released it on DVD in 1999 with some nice extras, including a commentary with Mr. Frumkes and some cast and crew members. This latest version, The Definitive Document of the Dead, goes further than its previous incarnations. In addition to the extra footage that has been added, it begins with a slightly different beginning than its predecessors: a very humorous introduction by Mr. Romero for the audience at a screening at the Alamo Drafthouse in Austin, TX and segues into a little bit of a discussion that he had in 2006 in Huntington, Long Island.

The documentary is available in two flavors: as a single, stand-alone standard definition DVD with a newly-recorded commentary provided by Mr. Frunkes running 102 minutes that covers Dawn up to Diary, and as a limited edition DVD/Blu-ray combo set that includes a standard definition DVD with the aforementioned extras, plus a Blu-ray of Mr. Frumkes’s original, 1978 documentary Document of the Dead, which runs 66 minutes and was scanned in high definition from the 16mm master. If you have a Blu-ray player, it is worth spending the extra cash to get the limited edition, which also contains a fold-out poster of Wes Benscoter’s beautiful new cover art for the DVD and Blu-ray. Have a look at this artist’s website. His work is brilliant.

NOTE: It has come to our attention that the Blu-ray edition of this title sold out immediately. The DVD edition is still available from Amazon. Click here to order

Kirk Douglas is truly one of the last of the Hollywood icons, representing the industry's Golden Age. Incredibly, he's never won a competitive Oscar but was given an honorary one for an impressive career that has lasted from the 1940s until today. Although Douglas is retired from acting, he's still an omnipresent force at classic  movie screenings and industry events. Today he marks his 96th birthday and writer Bob Greene provides a wonderful tribute along with a personal experience he shared with Douglas relating to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Click here to read

By Lee Pfeiffer

Warner Brothers continues to mine its seemingly exhaustive catalog of Humphrey Bogart titles with the release of The Wagons Roll at Night through the Warner Archive. The 1941 melodrama is compelling throughout and has an unusual setting for the story: a traveling circus. Bogart is cast as Nick Coster, the owner of the circus. He's a tough man of dubious morals who will do just about anything to increase audiences, as the show's box-office receipts dwindle. Through a bizarre happenstance, an escaped lion from the circus enters a small town store where grocery clerk Matt Varney (Eddie Albert) manages to keep it at bay. He becomes a local hero and the ever-opportunistic Nick hires him to take over as lion tamer from the show's drunken and unreliable current star. Matt proves to be a quick learner and soon becomes the star attraction of the circus. However, troubles arises when Matt falls for Nick's younger sister Mary (Joan Leslie), a girl Nick has been almost obsessive in keeping in a perpetual state of virginity. He opposes the relationship and this sets the climax of the story that finds him knowingly sending Matt into a cage with a particularly dangerous lion in the hope he will be killed. Adding to the complications is the presence of the circus fortune teller Flo (Sylvia Sidney), who has an unrequited crush on both Nick and Matt.

Launched without any fanfare in January 2011, the Antenna TV network is a dream for baby boomers with fond memoris of shows from the 60s and 70s. The network doesn't require cable service and is available for you few hold-outs still using rabbit ears. The network presents (relatively) few commercials and is largely devoid of those annoying, omnipresent logos that eradicate most of what is taking place on screen. They also show credits and ending theme songs in their entirety without squeezing them into the side of the screen to make room for more station promos. Among the shows the station telecasts are some that have not been widely-seen in recent years such as The Monkees, Maude, The Flying Nun, Father Knows Best, Gidget, Benny Hill, The Partridge Family, Hazel, Here Come the Brides and overdoses of The Three Stooges. They also combine telecasts of relatively recent feature films with older movies such as Billy the Kid Vs. Dracula and Cold Turkey. Click here to visit the web site and see if the station is available in your area.

By Lee Pfeiffer

David Frye, who soared to fame in the late 1960s with his devastating mimicry of Richard M. Nixon, has died in Las Vegas at age 77. Frye was an omnipresent fixture on TV variety shows especially in the lead-up to the presidential election in 1968 which saw Nixon rise from being a political has-been to being the leader of the free world after his narrow defeat of Democratic candidate Hubert Humphrey. Although Frye was an equal opportunity satirist, spoofing both liberals and conservatives, he was so closely associated with Richard Nixon that few remembered his other targets. Arguably, his career declined as some the figures he spoofed ended up with less-than-comical legacies. President Lyndon Johnson refused to run for re-election and emerged from the White House as a battered and embittered man, a victim of his Vietnam policy that overshadowed his often remarkable advances in social programs. Senator Robert F. Kennedy, whose speech patterns Frye amusingly linked to that of Bugs Bunny, was assassinated in 1968. President Nixon resigned in disgrace in 1974 after the Watergate scandal, and although Frye continued to spoof him, the nation was so torn apart by the lingering scandal, there wasn't much room for laughs. Nixon had emerged as a tragic figure, deserted by his most loyal supporters when the wake of his administration's legal transgressions became known. By the time he re-entered public life and regained some respectability as an elder statesman, the bloom was off the rose for Frye's impersonations of him. Lost in the midst of his political impersonations was the fact that Frye also had the ability to mimic legendary actors such as Kirk Douglas and George C. Scott. However, as the celebrities and political figures of our time diminished in stature, so, too, did Frye's popularity. Still, he gamely persevered and continued to with his nightclub act, comedy albums and videos that took on both Bush administrations and President Bill Clinton. Click here for more and to view vintage clips of Frye's act.

RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVES

By Lee Pfeiffer

If you haven't caught up with Michael Caine as Harry Brown yet, the fact that it is now streaming on Amazon Prime may will allow you to do so. It's time well- spent. At an age where most thespians were comfortably retired, Caine was not only still a viable leading man when the film was made, but a viable leading man in action films. Harry Brown was released in 2009 and generated decent reviews and business in the UK, but it received a blink-and-you'll-miss-it run in the USA.  The film consciously (some might say pretentiously) strives to bring Caine back to the turf of one of his greatest films: the gritty 1971 crime classic Get Carter.  This film isn't of that caliber, but it represented Caine's strongest role in years. He plays a quiet pensioner eaking out an existence in a London housing estate that is beset with violence and terrorized by omnipresent street gangs. In the early part of the film, Harry's beloved wife of many years dies from an illness. Then his best friend is murdered by the thugs. You don't have to be the Amazing Kreskin to predict what happens next. Caine takes it upon himself to avenge his friend's death and utilizes his training as a Royal Marine (he fought in Korea) to reawaken his savage instincts. Slowly and methodically, he hunts down the main culprits and dispenses his own brand of justice.

If this sounds like a geriatric Death Wish, it most certainly is. However, the film is very moving on certain levels, as we watch this likeable man of peace's world crumble around him. His trail of vengeance is presented logically and he doesn't become a superman in the process. The film is ably directed by Daniel Barber, who makes the most of the locations at London's notoriously dreary Heygate Estate, which has since been scheduled for demolition. Caine is aided by a fine supporting cast, with Emily Mortner especially good as a detective who is assigned to stop the vigilante killings. She suspects Caine is the killer, but can't help sympathizing with him. 

It's rare that the film industry affords an older actor a plumb role in an action film. Harry Brown may not be a classic, but it's good enough to rise above most contemporary action movies.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

MTV reports that there are serious discussions taking place about turning Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D into a new Marvel film franchise. The problem is that the films would be expensive and Fury doesn't have the name recognition of other Marvel heroes, though he has been portrayed as a supporting character by Samuel L. Jackson in the Iron Man films. Fury actually began as a popular Marvel WWII hero with the comic book Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos in a long-running series that began in 1962. In the mid-60s, Fury spun off into another comic during the James Bond rage. This found him working in the post-War years as a hi-tech secret agent for a government agency called S.H.I.E.L.D, which was an obvious nod to U.N.C.L.E. He still had his trademark eye patch and omnipresent cigar, however. The Nick Fury comics were initially drawn by Jack Kirby when they ran as installments in the Strange Tales comics. When he received his own comic, the early issues drawn by the moody but brilliant Jim Steranko were considered to be ground-breaking, but Steranko left Marvel after a short tenure and the Nick Fury comics lost much of their luster. For more on the development of Fury as a screen hero, click here

By Lee Pfeiffer

Shock-O-Rama Cinema is yet another independent DVD label trying valiantly to give exposure to B movies that might otherwise have been forgotten. In a move that will certainly please every misogynist male out there in Retroland, the company has released a Women in Prison triple feature containing 2 DVDs with the following exploitation titles from the 1970s: Escape From Hell, The Hot Box and Women in Cell Block 7. One of the tag lines from the DVD box states "Drug smuggling, car chases, cat fights and shower scenes!" Talk about truth in advertising...It doesn't take long for these oppressed females to find consolation from each other in seemingly omnipresent shower stalls. The films are Italian-made low-budget affairs that basically follow the same premise: various women are imprisoned in the kind of hell holes that make Papillon's cell look like the Ritz. They are exploited and sexually abused by guards and the prison hierarchy and also have to contend with butch lesbians who rule the cell blocks. Naturally, as in all "WIP"-themed films, the good ladies persevere and never let their personal appearance suffer too greatly, even when being threatened by snakes and mad killers. It should be noted that while the Shock-O-Rama release is fun to indulge in, the master prints used for the films leave a lot to be desired. The company has included some bonus trailers of other exploitation films, and some can be viewed by clicking here.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

It might give new meaning to the term "Coming Soon!" The porn industry is feeling the heat from all those free dirty movies that are omnipresent on the web. Consequently, revenues have declined for X-rated DVDs and downloads. However, the industry is quite adept at renewing itself with clever concepts and it looks like the latest plan may result in a temporary surge in profits. The porn company Vivid is unleashing a series of X-rated retro spoofs of legendary pop culture heroes beginning with Batman XXX. The video will be based on the classic 1960s spoof TV series that starred Adam West and Burt Ward. In the works are X-rated versions of Superman, Wonder Woman and The Hulk. Unlike low-budget porn spoofs of the past, these will have considerable production values. The teaser trailer for Batman XXX features a genuine Batmobile as well as superb graphics that recreate the credits sequence of the original show. (Click here to view- it's squeaky clean.) There are also plans in the works for an Addams Family X-rated spoof, but we draw the line at any vision of Lurch getting it on with Grandmama. Click here for more

Regular readers of Cinema Retro are well-acquainted with Joe Sirola, the star of stage and screen who is also known as The Voice-over King. Joe has been the voice behind countless high profile commercials over the years, but he's just landed a high profile gig as Sluggy Patterson, the fictional character who allegedly created the legendary game of Punchdub, which revolves around Volkswagens. For decades, people have punched another person in the arm whenever they spot a VW on the road. The company has now turned this phenomenon into a clever marketing plan and it's the centerpiece of VW's TV commercials. Joe Sirola has thus far recorded four ads that appear on the VW web site in which he plays Sluggy, a crusty senior citizen who describes the rules of the game and how he created them. Response has been so good that "Sluggy" now has his own blog, Twitter and Facebook pages where VW fans share their observations about playing Punchdub.

At a time of life when most people would be comfortably retired, Joe is at the top of his game. His voice-overs are omnipresent in American media and when he isn't singing at the Met, he's performing his acclaimed one-man stage presentation of The Ages of Man. When we called him to congratulate him on the VW association, he was on the golf course with Elke Sommer. Some guys have it tough...To view Joe's VW ads and the Sluggy blog, click here

(Joe Sirola wrote about co-starring with Clint Eastwood in Hang 'Em High in Cinema Retro issue #6 and about his friendship with Richard Burton in issue #7)

By Lee Pfeiffer

There have been precious few film critics with the reputation of Richard Schickel. If he seems an omnipresent aspect of virtually every classic film discussion, it's because he represents the Golden Age of movie criticism. Schickel's long and impressive career has made him a legend in his own right, but his talents extend beyond writing. He's also an award-winning filmmaker. Schickel has occasionally found inspiration in his long-time friendship with Clint Eastwood as the basis for documentaries. His TV special that chronicled the making of Unforgiven was the first in-depth look at how Eastwood approaches filmmaking. Now, Schickel has created a new documentary- The Eastwood Factor - that is available as part of Warner Brothers' new DVD collection dedicated to the iconic star and director. The set contains every film Eastwood has made for Warner Brothers and Schickel's documentary provides the perfect companion piece. The film takes Eastwood on a trip down memory lane, with visits to the Warner's studio lot where he made so many movies. To commemorate the release of the documentary, Warner Home Video arranged an exclusive interview with Richard Schickel. 

CR: When you first saw the Sergio Leone trilogy in the 1960s, you weren’t very impressed with the films or Eastwood…

RS:  When I first saw those films, I didn’t care for them but I now care for them very greatly. Historically they became incredibly important in the western film genre. I also just like the movies:  they’re smart, they’re funny, they’re weird. They’re extraordinarily good movies, but I didn’t notice that at the time because in those days I was a traditionalist.

CR: When did you first meet Clint Eastwood?

RS: In 1976, after the release of The Outlaw Josey Wales. The friendship just developed the way friendships do. There was nothing magical about it. When I first saw Josey Wales, I thought it was a terrific movie.  I liked the theme of the movie: the rescue and reconstruction of troubled and hard-pressed people. I had missed the whole Dirty Harry factor initially after Pauline Kael had said it was fascist.  I think I was kind of misled by that.  Instinctively, I liked the movie, but then I thought “I shouldn’t like this movie!” (Laughs). I revisited the film not too long after that and found a lot of virtue in the character.

CR: Ironically, in recent years, you’ve become sort of a Boswell to Eastwood’s Dr. Johnson.

RS: I don’t know about that. I just like the guy and he likes me. We get along in a casual, male bonding sort of way.  That isn’t to say I don’t admire many of his films. Unlike most actors, he greatly expanded his range and work in films like Tightrope and especially with Unforgiven. He also did movies that were not very commercial like Bird and White Hunter, Black Heart. More recently, he’s undertaken movies that most directors of his age wouldn’t think about undertaking – even if they were able to. It’s a classic example of an older man doing his best work.  It’s certainly unusual in the movie business. Most older directors fall into silence or irrelevance.  Eastwood doesn’t just screw off. He chooses fairly difficult topics. He proceeds with them in a rational way.  He’s not subject to “celebrity follies” of one sort or another.

CR: It’s interesting that, like John Ford,  Eastwood has acquired somewhat of a stock company he prefers to work with.

RS:  Yes, Joel Cox has been editing for him for twenty years. The same with the cameraman Jack Green.  Eastwood talks about that. He says it’s much easier to work with someone you’ve known for many years. You don’t even need to communicate verbally- you just point your finger or give a nod and the guy knows what to do.  When you’re on one of Clint’s sets, you’re not aware of him doing any heavy duty directing.  He’s there for the actors, if they have a question or something like that. He believes that if you have the right person in the part, you really don’t have to do very much.

By Lee Pfeiffer

Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe have collaborated once again for Robin Hood, the latest in a seemingly endless number of attempts to keep the legendary hero a contemporary favorite. In large part, Robin Hood films have been successful. I've always liked Richard Lester's Robin and Marian as well as Kevin Costner's weird but fun attempt to play the role in the 1990s. Scott's film looks gritty and tough, though I hope he doesn't mar the action sequences, as he did in Gladiator, by employing today's omnipresent herky-jerky hand-held camera techniques. To view the trailer click here

THIS ARTICLE WAS UPDATED ON AUGUST 24

Cinema Retro London correspondent Mark Mawston recently caught up with director John Landis to discuss his classic horror film.

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Friday 26^th June 09 was a sad day for many as they woke up to the news of Michael Jackson’s untimely passing. Although tributes were many and were omnipresent on TV and radio, the image that seemed to represent the high point in the singer’s career and resonate with fans and general public alike was his epic ‘Thriller’ video. Probably the most famous and influential music video ever, the landmark film was directed by the incomparable John Landis. On the day of Jackson’s death, Landis was in London to attend the Curzon Soho’s ‘Midnight Movies’ tribute to him with a rare screening of An American Werewolf In London. As usual, the Curzon staff had made a splendid effort, this time creating a theme at the cinema’s bar around the Slaughtered Lamb pub which features in the film, as well as dressing as having characters from the film on hand, too.  The ticket-holding attendees again showed that an Englishman (or woman) never need to be asked twice to dress up, as several of the films most memorable creations seemed to be present and correct. There was even a fully blown lycanthrope that appeared to be stalking the aisles and dancing to the house band in the foyer as the ‘Nightmare Demon’ in full trench coat (on one of the warmest nights of  recent years) prowled the bar looking for American tourists with backpacks (see Mike Strick’s site just to see how much goes into the creation of these monsterpieces).

As the band played, Landis signed a limited amount of copies of the new book detailing his career, which includes essays on such cinematic gems as Animal House, Kentucky Fried Movie, The Blues Brothers, Trading Places, the hugely underrated Into the Night and the aforementioned ‘Thriller’. Kim Newman was on hand to ask the questions in his own inimitable manner, and we were also graced by the presence of John’s wife Deborah and the ever-glamorous Jenny Agutter, who was the female lead in American Werewolf. One of the high points on the night for this writer occurred when Agutter turned up to the strains of ‘Moondance’ by Van Morrison, still looking as though she had just slipped out of the nurse’s costume that many hold so close to their heart. Despite John Landis’ enormous success as a director,  it’s wonderful to see that he is still a fan boy at heart. He was just as enthused about my story in Cinema Retro #14 regarding clearing Ray Harryhausen’s garage as he was about answering the questions about movies he’d made.  

Of course, it was the stories behind his wonderful films that we were all interested in and it was a fascinating experience delving into the Landis treasure trove of iconic cinematic moments. He confirmed that it felt surreal to be sitting in The Curzon which borders Piccadilly in the heart of London where the famous finale to American Werewolf in London had taken place (Ironically, the musical of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ plays a few doors down). He said he had very fond memories of the area, especially the sequence from the film that was shot in a nearby cinema in which the decomposing Jack visits his friend David as the wonderful parody of a British 70’s porn movie plays (it’s title See You Next Wednesday is a trademark of  Landis which appears in most of his films). Landis told me, “I spent a great deal of time at that cinema when I was over here as one of the fourteen or so writers on The Spy Who Loved Me. I would disappear and head for that cinema as they showed a lot of Tex Avery cartoons, which I’m a big fan of. Cubby thought I was insane!”  

 

By Lee Pfeiffer

Billy Mays, the seemingly omnipresent pitchman seen all over American TV, has died at age 50. The stocky Mays had parlayed his "spiel" of in-your-face promotions for household cleansers and other products into a virtual trademark. Clad in his familiar blue shirt and tan trousers, the stocky, bearded Mays would wake viewers out of their stupors by literally shouting about the quality of his products. In a recent profile on a major TV show, it became clear that Mays had legions of fans who would mob him for autograph and flatter him by reciting his ads verbatim. For others, his bombastic approach caused them to frantically search for the mute button on their remote control. By all accounts, however, Mays was a likable man who relished his unusual status as a celebrity pitchman. Even those who didn't like his TV persona had to confess admiration for the way he built himself into a one-man industry. He had also just premiered his cable TV show Pitchmen in which he evaluated prospective new products for late night TV marketing. Mays was on a flight that had a rough landing in Tampa yesterday, though it isn't confirmed that incident might have had anything to do with his death.

Mays is the latest celebrity to die in a week that has already seen the passing of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.

For more click here

By Lee Pfeiffer

Warner Home Video has paid tribute to the late Paul Newman by releasing a batch of his films that are making their debut on DVD. However, the real tribute to the legendary star is that they kept some of these in the vault until he passed away. Still, even mediocre Newman is most welcome and these second-rung titles afford enormous pleasures, though perhaps, not in the way the filmmakers intended. The Warners production notes that accompanied the screener of Newman's 1956 debut film The Silver Chalice are refreshingly candid and acknowledge that the film is so bad, the star famously took out an ad in the trade papers apologizing for his participation in it. That kind of ballsy move, characteristic of the man himself, may have been what prevented him from falling into oblivion (or worse, becoming the next Victor Mature.) Certainly, there isn't the slightest indication that Newman possessed the kind of star power that would see him become one of the giants of the silver screen. Yet, I can scarcely contain my enthusiasm in recommending this release to all lovers of bad movies. If Ed Wood made a Biblical film, it would have been The Silver Chalice - as this is the Ben-Hur of those dumbed-down tits-and-toga "epics" that swept theaters in the 1950s. The movie is best enjoyed in a Mystery Science Theater - like scenario, so invite your most cynical, wittiest friends over, open a few bottles of wine and sit back and enjoy the glories of a film that produces more laughs than anything the Zucker brothers ever dreamed up.

The movie casts Newman as a Greek sculptor (!) named Basil who is adopted by a Roman aristocrat, but sold into slavery after his father dies - the result of some chicanery on the part of a disreputable nobleman who wants to inherit the family fortune. Basil makes the best of his lot and gains a reputation for his sculpting skills. He also attracts an older noblewoman (Virginia Mayo), in what must have been the first MILF instance of the Biblical era. Before long, Basil is approached by those long-suffering Christians with a delicate task - sculpt a silver chalice that will hold the cup Jesus drank from during The Last Supper. In order to do so, Basil has to keep his mission secret, all the while trying to realistically depict the disciples and Christ's likenesses on the precious cup. He gets 'em all, but gosh-darn-it, he can't seem to get the inspiration for depicting The Big Guy's image. (It won't spoil the suspense to tell you that, only after becoming a better Christian, does the image of Christ finally appear before him- complete with the kind of lush studio musical orchestration that must be an omnipresent aspect of heaven.) Much is made of keeping the Jesus cup and accompanying chalice out of the hands of thieves and anarchists, but no one seems to comment on the fact that, for all the risk and subterfuge, the precious silver handiwork resembles a cheap bowling trophy. 

Most of the pleasures in The Silver Chalice derive from the famously inept production design. This may be a film about a sculptor but the most prominent chisler was Jack Warner, who seems to have afforded the production less money than he spent on cigars in a week. This is a claustrophobic film with only a few outdoor shots thrown in to alleviate the tedium. The interiors seem confined to a few set pieces including a palace in which the large bricks in the wall are drawn on with what appear to be magic markers. The streets seem to be paved with kitchen linoleum and apparently, the early Romans lived in igloo-like structures! The dialogue is a real hoot with one character extolling the virtues of the city by actually saying "There's no place like Rome." (Surprisingly, he isn't clicking ruby slippers together when he says it.) Gay viewers will be particularly amused by the not-so-subtle homo-erotic content to many scenes.  Newman walks around in more mini skirts than you'd find on a London street in 1967. The macho supporting cast is not immune from Village People-like fashions as well. In one scene, Jack Palance and Joseph Wiseman are both clad in over-the-top numbers with plunging necklines that show enough cleavage to have made Jayne Mansfield blush. (Palance is also inexplicably attired in a beehive hat that makes him look like he was channeled from a future Coneheads sketch). Even Lorne Greene is caught up in the bonanza of cliches. The future Ben Cartwright is cast as St. Peter!

It takes a truly awful movie to win a coveted Cinema Retro "must-buy" recommendation, but The Silver Chalice passes the test with flying colors. The film is devoid of any extras, which is a pity, as it would have been fascinating to see the trailer for this disaster. The film does succeed on one count: if it was made in the hope of having religious cynics become more attuned to Christ, I concede I shouted "Oh, God!" after every line of dialogue.

Click here to order from Amazon

By Lee Pfeiffer

Like many news addicts, I keep the cable TV stations on during the day while I go about the more mundane aspects of running the Cinema Retro "empire". Yesterday's miraculous landing in the Hudson River of an airliner that suffered the loss of its engines after striking a flock of geese, was truly a head-turner. The networks, both local New York affiliates and national cable stations, appropriately reported on every second of the breathtaking event. The captain of the stricken craft had managed a truly spectacular water landing in the shadow of where the World Trade Center once loomed and, equally impressive, a Dunkirk-armada of disparate rescue boats managed to get all 150+ passengers evacuated from the plane within 90 seconds. The only thing that would have made it more riveting is if we found out Karen Black had been piloting the plane a la Airport '75. However, as the minutes turned to hours, the networks fell back on their reliably lazy and pandering methods of showing endless loops of the same footage, interviewing and re-interviewing the same passengers and aviation experts even as it became clear no remarkable or new information was forthcoming. As compelling as this story was, it was still mostly relevant to New Yorkers - after 9/11, the prospect of any airliner flying at an abnormally low altitude over the city would be of great concern. However, the incident occurred so quickly that there had been no panic or even speculation about what was happening. If you lived in Des Moines, Iowa and finally wanted to get some international news, you were out of luck. The networks were giving you wall-to-wall coverage of a story they decided was so compelling that the outside world would not exist. This is usually the same treatment afforded cases pertaining to missing sexy, white teenage girls. 

Think I'm being too harsh? Well, I like a heart-warming story as much as anyone - and this one not only provided some real heroes but the all-too-infrequent happy ending because all of the passengers escaped without life-threatening injuries. However, at what point does coverage of a feel-good story become excessive and find the networks abdicating their responsibilities to report on what is happening elsewhere in the world? Consider just what else was occurring yesterday:

• There was a contentious senate confirmation hearing for Eric Holder, who stands to become the most powerful law enforcement official in the United States.Want to know where he stands on the important issues and how he would run the department differently from the Bush administration? Well, if you didn't see the hearings when they were broadcast live in the morning, you were out of luck as far as cable news networks went. 
• Both Senators Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden gave their farewell addresses to their colleagues before assuming their new positions as Secretary of State and Vice-President.
• The battles in Gaza saw the worst day of violence so far and a UN building was shelled.
• The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan? Fuggetaboutit!  Journalists are risking their lives to cover these conflicts, but they seem to get as much airtime as the battle of Gettysburg.
• Finally, President Bush gave his farewell address to the nation, though it was clear the networks only reluctantly afforded him 13 minutes of precious "non-news" coverage of the airliner crash. Depending upon where you stand on the President's performance, the speech was either moving and gracious or delusional and arrogant - but there was little air time afforded to discuss these issues or debate the significance of the speech, though MSNBC did allow its hosts to dwell on it a bit before resuming the "All Airliner, All the Time" coverage.

Late in the evening, and hours after the last relevant news had been released about the incident, I turned to the BBC to find out if there were any other human beings left on the planet who were making news. Alas, it did not appear so. How about Nightline for analysis of the Holder confirmation or Presidential speech? Nope - it was 100% airliner news - and included an entire segment on the bird menace to airliners. There were so many of these stories about feathered fiends that aired last night, I thought Hitchcock had risen from the grave to direct them.

This morning I turned out CNN in the vain hope the airliner story had been placed in proper context, but no such luck. In spot-checking the network, it's been hours and I haven't found a single story that wasn't related to the rescue. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Paddy Chayefsky's Network now seems like a documentary instead of a comedy. I guess the airline rescue story will be omnipresent on the news shows - at least until the next sexy, white teenage girl goes missing.

Controversial filmmaker Michael Moore has released his latest feature film Slacker Uprising as a free download from the web site www.slackeruprising.com.  Moore has decided to bypass theatrical venues in the hopes of having the film seen by as many people as possible leading up to the presidential election. However, a DVD edition of the film has also been released at a modest price ($9.95). Why buy the DVD when the download is free? Primarily because of the abundance of out-takes that you can't get with the downloaded version. Moore's decision to forego theatrical distribution was a costly one. His Farenheit 9/11 remains the highest grossing documentary in history and his latest film Sicko, while not nearly as widely seen, still pulled in impressive numbers at the box-office.

Slacker Uprising chronicles Moore's cross country tour on behalf of John Kerry's 2004 presidential campaign. His primary goal was to meet with young people and motivate them to vote - a tall order, considering the weak turnout on election day generally seen among this age group. Nevertheless, Moore presides over gigantic rallies and is treated like a rock star, despite his trademark pot belly, sagging jeans, unshaven face and omnipresent baseball cap. Moore, one of the most polarizing people in contemporary America, attracts his share of critics. Amidst the crowds, Moore has Republican protesters who attempt to disrupt the rally by waving banners and shouting. He patiently indulges them and disarms them with some wry barbs. (When a group of pro-war religious fanatics grasp hands and chant The Lord's Prayer continuously, Moore brings down the house by calming asking, "Who would Jesus bomb?") The film also features "Man in the Street" interviews with Moore's critics, but of course, they are carefully chosen to accentuate eccentrics. Some criticize the horrors of Farenheit 9/11 but sheepishly admit they haven't seen a minute of the actual movie.

Moore's movies generally preach to the choir, but even those at odds with his ideology can admire his methods of activism, which are all peaceful, lawful, orderly and highly organized. He visits 62 different cities on his whirlwind tour, concentrating primarily on college campuses where he personally helps sign up new voters. Ordinarily, it's the province of the political far left to shout down speakers with whom they don't agree, but this film shows there's no lack of bad manners and intolerance among conservatives. Threatened by the huge crowds Moore is drawing, some Republicans demand that he be investigated for bribing young people to vote Democratic. The "bribe" Moore is offering them? A pair of clean underwear and a cup of microwaveable noodles! In more chilling instances, far right forces try to literally ban him from certain campuses, and in one case a prominent local businessman attempts to bribe the student council by offering them $100,000 to cancel Moore's appearance. (He says on camera that he doesn't want his family exposed to any thoughts from outside the community in which they live!). To the student's credit, they refuse. In one case, a school succeeds in banning Moore for a 1400 seat auditorium on campus, so he moves to a center down the street where he draws 14,000 people. Even if you despise Moore's politics, you have to admire his moxy.

If you are among the few who can view the film objectively, there are some myths spread by his opponents that are clearly dispelled. Among them:

• The U.S. military is lockstep in synch with the Bush administration. In fact, as Moore's movie demonstrates, his rallies are filled with Iraq veterans and their families who give passionate support for his efforts to end the war. In the most moving sequences, family members speak at rallies to lament the loss of their loved ones for what they feel is a futile cost.
• Michael Moore hates America. This is easily dispelled by the fact that Moore speaks passionately about his love for the country and his desire to bring it back to what he feels are strong adherence to the Constitution. Moore spends much of the time praising the U.S. military, leading the audience in standing ovations for veterans and praising former Bush administration officials who quit as a matter of conscience over the direction of the war. When Moore mourns the loss of 1400 dead, you have to wince because the film was shot years ago and you realize that four years later, that toll will have risen by several thousand. The perception that Moore hates America is largely due to his own inability or unwillingness to take at least an occasional potshot at some of the world's worst villains. If you think George Bush is a bad guy, it doesn't mean his enemies aren't a lot worse. In Farenheit 9/11, Moore implied pre-war Iraq was a tranquil place where people led a relatively carefree existence. Nary a word about Saddam's genocidal practices or the suppression of human rights that characterized his regime. In Sicko, he goes over the top by visiting Cuba to demonstrate that their health care benefits are more generous than those found in America's crumbling system. Fair enough - but would any sane person want to live in Castro's police state and drive a 1957 Chevy to the clinic? How many people do you hear about sneaking into Cuba? Had Moore offered even the slightest criticism of these regimes, it would have dismissed much of the criticism leveled against him.
• Moore is blinded by ideology. He's a true political lefty who wears the badge of "liberal" proudly at a time in which everyone else runs from the term. However, you can't argue with his record of predictions. In his first feature film, Roger and Me, Moore warned that greedy and corrupt business tycoons were killing middle class America by outsourcing jobs, skimming profits and backstabbing workers. Do you think you'd find many people this week who would argue the contrary - and this film was made twenty years ago. In Farenheit 9/11, he spoke out against the Iraq War at a time when most people still supported it. He warned that, contrary to what was being fed to the public, this would be a long, drawn out, seemingly endless conflict that would cost thousands of more lives and billions of dollars more. Even if you support the war, you can't argue with the accuracy of his predictions. In Sicko, Moore predicted that America's dubious status as the only industrialized Western nation that doesn't offer at least minimal free health care to its citizens would see an explosive increase in the uninsured. There are approximately 50 million Americans who have no health care and that will grow by millions in the wake of the current financial crisis. So, love him or hate him, you have to take Moore's positions seriously.

Slacker Uprising is consistently amusing and often moving, as it traces Moore's frantic attempts to prevent a second Bush term. He is highly critical of John Kerry (seen here only in brief news footage) because of his insistence on running for office while fighting a "clean campaign". Thus, Kerry mandates that the Democratic convention be virtually absent of any attacks on President Bush - a strategy that backfires weeks later when the Republican convention employs the opposite theory and turns their event into an assault on Kerry's reputation. Moore is determined to "save Kerry from himself" - and the plan almost works. Although Kerry loses the election by virtue of one state (Ohio) swinging to Bush at the last minute, Moore claims satisfaction from the fact that of the 62 cities he held rallies in, 54 voted for Kerry. He also states that the election saw the largest turnout ever of young voters - and this became the one demographic Kerry carried convincingly.
Slacker Uprising includes some celebrity appearances in conjunction with Moore's road trip. Among the performers: Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam, Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine, actor Viggo Mortensen and the seemingly ageless Joan Baez who coerces Moore to sing an acapella version of America, the Beautiful with her. (It's not as bad as it sounds.) The one unwelcome guest is Roseanne Barr, whose obnoxious voice and whining diatribe actually made me feel some sympathy for America's least funny comedian, Tom Arnold, who suffered through being married to her. Extras on the DVD consist of segments that didn't make it into the final cut. Some are superfluous, such as a time-killer in which Moore sings the Canadian national anthem. Others are more amusing: Moore relating to the crowd that the pharmaceutical giant Pfizer is so paranoid about his upcoming documentary Sicko that they send out a confidential memo alerting all employees to call a special emergency hotline if Moore approaches them. Moore, who has secured a copy of the memo, makes sure he gives the hotline number out to the crowd. In another segment, Moore reads from the storybook My Pet Goat and reminds the audience that President Bush continued to read the book to grade school children for a full seven minutes even after his chief of staff whispered in his ear "The nation is under attack."  Moore's film doesn't pretend to be balanced in any way, but given the fact that the president's approval ratings are now tied with Richard Nixon's at the height of the Watergate scandal, he might find a more receptive welcome among disgruntled Republicans who are willing to give it a try.- Lee Pfeiffer                (To order the DVD edition go to the official web site at www.slackeruprising.com)

It is not without dramatic irony that Warner Brothers has released a commemorative DVD edition of one Paul Newman's signature films virtually simultaneously with his death. Newman was already a cinematic icon by 1967 when the movie was released, having played such flawed characters as Fast Eddie Felson in The Hustler and the ultimate cad, Hud Bannon. However, the role of Cool Hand Luke more than any other reflected the non-conformism that was sweeping young people in the mid to late 1960s. Luke is the ultimate loser: a distinguished war veteran who doesn't have the drive or motivation to capitalize on his good looks, charming manner and street smarts. He's content with just getting by another day and considers it a victory to put one over on authority figures. He's destined to be a tragic figure, but at least he's doing so on his own terms and with an omnipresent smile on his face.

Cool Hand Luke was one of those famous movies that had eluded me until a few years ago. When I finally caught up with it, I was somewhat disappointed. Perhaps I had heard so much about it, the film couldn't live up to expectations. However, in watching the new DVD edition, I appreciated the many nuances that had escaped me the first time around. The story is simple: Luke is arrested for a petty crime and sentenced to serve time in a horrid prison camp where he is put to work as part of a road gang. His inability to play by the rules makes him a target of the sadistic guards, but an inspiration to his fellow prisoners. Newman is superb throughout, but a very real pleasure is the remarkable cinematography by the great Conrad Hall, who captures cliched scenes in such a poetic manner that each frame becomes a work of art. The film is also very ably directed by Stuart Rosenberg, who never quite got the respect in the industry he deserved. Lalo Schifrin's score is a true winner, though in the accompanying documentary he expresses amusement that a key theme from the film is primarily known to Americans as the opening chords of the daily  Eyewitness News broadcasts. A key aspect of the movie is the terrific supporting cast, headed by George Kennedy in his Oscar-winning role as the lovable lunkhead who becomes Luke's Sancho Panza. The cast also boasts Dennis Hopper, Lou Antonio, Joe Don Baker, Harry Dean Stanton, J.D. Cannon, Morgan Woodward, Jo Van Fleet, Clifton James, Anthony Zerbe, Ralph Waite and Wayne Rogers. The best of the lot is the great Strother Martin in his defining role as the brain-dead warden who utters the film's signature line, "What we got here is failure to communicate." 

The special edition DVD includes audio commentary track by Newman biographer Eric Lax, who provides some wonderful and knowing anecdotes. There is also a commemorative documentary that includes interviews with the late Stuart Rosenberg, Lalo Schifrin, George Kennedy, Lou Antonio, and George Kennedy. (Sadly, Newman was either unwilling or unable to contribute.) The documentary is packed with wonderful anecdotes, making it clear this film was a labor of love for all concerned. Also appearing is Joy Harmon, who made a brief, but legendary appearance as the buxon cocktease who drives the men on the road gang into a sexual frenzy just by washing her car in a skimpy dress. Harmon recalls she was too naive to know the phallic meanings of the various shots she filmed. A theatrical trailer is also included.This special edition of Cool Hand Luke is bittersweet, coming as it does in the wake of Newman's death - but it's a first class tribute to a first class actor.- Lee Pfeiffer

CLICK HERE TO ORDER SPECIAL EDITION DVD DISCOUNTED FROM AMAZON

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CLICK HERE TO ORDER SPECIAL EDITION FROM AMAZON UK

CLICK HERE TO ORDER BLU-RAY EDITION FROM AMAZON UK

(For Tom Lisanti's exclusive interview with Joy Harmon regarding her role in Cool Hand Luke, see Cinema Retro issue #10)

If you're tired of today's touch-feely action hero who is in touch with his sensitive side, you can count writer Kevin Williamson as a soul mate. The columnist for Canada's London Free Press gripes that he's sick of seeing watered down men of action and pines for the days when macho men were omnipresent forces on theater screens - and yes, he shares Cinema Retro's skepticism that pudgy Seth Rogen is the most qualified actor in the world to play The Green Hornet! To read the article click here

Writer Amanda Christine Miller has a light-hearted and amusing interview with famed director Peter Bogdanovich on The Huffington Post site. Bogdanovich speaks at length about his signature "logo" - the stylish neck scarves that are an omnipresent part of his wardobe. He also reflects on the legendary film figures his came to know and expresses the most admiration for John Ford and Howard Hawks, though he concedes Ford's grumpiness made him an unpleasant person to be around. As for his own icon of fashion, Bogdanovich chooses Cary Grant and tells an amusing ancedote that reveals that Grant's Brooks Brothers suits were straight off the rack. To read the interview click here