By Todd Garbarini

I was too young to watch Saturday Night Live in the 1970s. It was the sort of show that my parents forbade me to watch despite their never having seen it themselves. It was this “thing” that was on way too late and was occasionally referred to but never really talked about because the perception was that it was off-color and risqué. I only became aware of the cast members peripherally in the ensuing years when I saw scenes from John Landis’s Animal House (1978), Michael O’Donoghue’s Mr. Mike’s Mondo Video (1979), Steven Spielberg’s 1941 (1979), and John Landis’s The Blues Brothers (1980) on television. Two of the show’s most popular segments, Mr. Bill, the clay figurine character, and The Coneheads both adorned elementary and middle school-aged students’ t-shirts for years. By the time I finally did manage to see new episodes in 1984, I felt that I was late to the party following the tragic passing of John Belushi in March 1982.

I became a fan of George Carlin that same year by collecting his comedy bits that were released by Flip Wilson and Monte Kay’s record label Little David Records (1969 – 1980) and was pleasantly surprised to see that he hosted the show’s premier episode on Saturday, October 11, 1975, originally simply titled Saturday Night. It is the 90 minutes preceding the show’s fateful debut that is the focal point of Jason Reitman’s frenetic 2024 film of the same name which posits a fictionalized account of creator Lorne Michaels’s full-steam-ahead mindset to create a show very few believed would make it past its first broadcast, let alone half a century.

Saturday Night, which opened, fittingly, on Friday, October 11, 2024 nationwide after limited runs in New York and Los Angeles, does an expert job of finding people who look very similar to the real-world counterparts they are portraying, in particular Dylan O’Bryan as Dan Aykroyd, Nicholas Podany as Billy Crystal, Nicholas Braun doing double duty as Andy Kaufman and Jim Henson, and Matt Wood as John Belushi. Gabrielle LaBelle, who portrayed Steven Spielberg’s alter ego Sammy Fableman in the 2022 film The Fablemans, based on Mr. Spielberg’s childhood, portrays Saturday Night’s creator, Lorne Michaels, racing between offices and sets while trying to placate the network suits and deciding which skits will make it to airtime and which will not. Fielding questions from staff members and dealing with lights that nearly kill two stars after they fall to the ground are just some of the situations he must deal with.

The action is shot on 16mm film, and it does a nice job of approximating the look and feel of the mid 1970s. I love the result. It possesses the type of visual warmth that one associates with film that is generally lacking from digital video recordings. The film was shot in continuity. Coming from a television production background at college and two local cable stations, I was thankfully never exposed to the stress levels as displayed onscreen here, however there were always jitters prevalent in the moments preceding a live broadcast. The film ends just before show time.

Saturday Night is now available on Blu-ray and comes with a wealth of extras. The cover art harkens back to the days of Mad Magazine with a Jack Davis-style collage of the onscreen characters. It reminds me of The Big Bus (1976) and Animal House (1978).

The audio commentary was recorded on Tuesday, October 1, 2024 on the Sony Lot, formerly the MGM Lot where The Wizard of Oz (1939) was filmed. Director Reitman explains that the film came about because he wanted to speak with the people who were in the building the night the show premiered and depict the hours before show time. What he found were different interpretations of people’s experiences, hence the loose fictionalized account of the transpiring events. He tells the story of how nobody he spoke to had the original script, except for Billy Crystal (who would join the show nine years later) from whom they copied and used in the film.

Cinematographer Eric Steelberg discusses the grain structure and the color palette of the films of the early 1970’s and how they approached capturing that in 16mm. They have succeeded smashingly.

Jess Gonchor is the film’s production designer who, along with sound mixer Steve Morrow, weigh in and discuss the challenges they faced regarding their contributions to the film. Saturday Night was shot on a set which was created with meticulous detail.

Trailers for the following films are included (strangely, no trailer for the title film featured): Gil Kenan’s Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire (2024), Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash (2014), Craig Gillespie’s Dumb Money (2023), and Robert Zemeckis’s Here (2024).

The Making of the Movie of the Show That Almost Never Made It runs 16:23 and features comments from Jason Reitman, Gil Kenan, Gabrielle Labelle, Corey Michael Smith, Matthew Rhys, Ella Hunt, Matt Wood, Willem Dafoe, Lamorne Morris, Erica Mills, Joanne Perritano, Eric Steelberg, Dylan O’Brien, Cooper Hoffman, J.K. Simmons, Emily Fairn, Kim Matula, Rachell Sennot, Jason Blumenfeld, Jon Batiste, Danny Glicker, and Jess Conchor and provides interesting insight into how the film was made.

The Look of Saturday Night runs 2:10 and is an introduction to the characters in the film.

Super 8 From Studio 8H: Home Movies from the Set runs 4:49 and is a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the cast and crew during breaks in the shooting schedule.

Creating Comedy Icons runs 10:52 and features the performers who portray Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Jane Curtain, Garrett Morris, Laraine Newman, Jim Henson/Andy Kaufman, Lorne Michaels, Rosie Shuster, Jacqueline Carlin, Dick Ebersol, and Billy Preston.

John Batiste: Scoring Live runs 1:21 and takes a much-too-short look at the creation of the score which elicits and complements the onscreen pandemonium.

The Blu-ray also contains a digital code for viewing through an app. 

It is worth nothing that Chevy Chase’s reaction to the film: he stated on the "Morning Joe" chat show that it is not an accurate account of what went on. Then again, how could it be if it was made by people who were not there? It is based on others’ recollections, and for that reason it is very entertaining.

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By Brian Hannan

This big-screen version of a small-screen hero is as pleasant a diversion as you can get. Nostalgia pretty much gives it a free pass and in any case the action, which punctuates the drama at regular intervals, was always going to be budget-restricted. Despite being in almost constant danger the insouciance of gentleman thief Simon Templar dictates that the pace is no more than languid.

As the title suggests, we’re in Mafia country, Templar (Roger Moore) drawn into a Cosa Nostra succession scenario as the result of a casual encounter with  former bank clerk Houston (Fulton Mackay), later found dead. Houston has cast doubts on the real identity of  Mafia Don Destiamo (Ian Hendry), one of several contenders to become the next Mafia overlord. Templar sneaks into Destiamo’s world by pursuing his niece Gina (Rosemary Dexter). Although outwardly respectable, Destiamo a bit too fond of using his cigar as a weapon of disfigurement, threatening his blonde English moll Lily (Aimi MacDonald) in this fashion.

Part of Templar’s attraction is that, although he has a nefarious side, he is happy to walk those mean streets and has a strict moral code. And he moves in such elevated circles that he has a nodding acquaintance with dying Mafia chieftain Don Pasquale (Finlay Currie) who has yet to pick his successor. The other part of his attraction is that he’s played with such suaveness by Roger Moore. For a good chunk of the time someone is trying to knife him, shoot him, blow him up, capture him, jab him with a truth serum, and generally trying to stop him. In fending off such attacks, or out-smarting the villains, there’s rarely a hair out of place. It’s not so much devil-may-care as devil-is-wasting-his-time with such an imperturbable fellow.

Although the action is pretty straightforward, Templar is not above a clever ruse – jamming a bus in a gateway preventing his pursuers continuing the chase – nor an old one such as tying sheets together to climb out of a window. While Malta stands in for Italy, the locations still look authentic enough, ancient stone buildings, the occasional horse pulling a cart. When the action/drama eases up, there’s always pleasant scenery.

Following MGM’s success in stitching together into a movie two episodes of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. television series (which of course had pinched the idea from Walt Disney’s cinematic re-presentation of Davy Crockett episodes) it was no surprise that ATV, then under the control of future movie mogul Sir Lew Grade (Raise the Titanic, 1980), decided to adopt the same idea. Although The Saint had been showing on British television since 1962, by the end of its run in 1969 it had stepped up to bigger budgets, 35mm and colour. Given each episode lasted around 50 minutes, it was relatively simple to devise a two-part programme shown over consecutive weeks on ITV in Britain and then release it throughout the rest of the world as a feature film. The first such project was The Fiction Makers (1968) followed by Vendetta for the Saint.

Roger Moore’s movie career had been in limbo since Romulus and the Sabines (1961) and there’s no doubt that his performance as Simon Templar and later in another glossier British television series The Persuaders (1971-1972) made him a candidate for James Bond. While his interpretation of Templar, especially the wry delivery, does bear some similarities to his incarnation as 007, that only holds true as long as you set aside the year’s supply of Brylcreem dumped on his hair, the shoulder-padded shoulders and the fact that he had not yet perfected his trademark move, the raising of the single eyebrow.

While no match for the quips prevalent in James Bond, Canadian screenwriter Harry W. Junkin – best known for his television work, his only other movies being a similar melding of television episodes of The Persuaders – and John Kruse (Hell Drivers, 1957) – had some neat one-liners. Despite the obvious limitations, director Jim O’Connelly (Berserk, 1967) does a decent enough job.

But Moore carries the show. Ian Hendry makes a passable villain but not a passable Italian. In general, not surprisingly since most characters were played by British actors, the accents are all over the place though Moore, courtesy of squiring Luisa Mattioli (later his wife) manages to deliver his Italian lines in an acceptable accent. Otherwise, the only one who comes close is Rosemary Dexter (The Shoes of the Fisherman, 1968) and that’s because she was Italian. Worth checking out in the supporting cast are Finlay Currie (Ben Hur, 1959) and Fulton Mackay (BBC series Porridge, 1974-1977).

You can find a lot wrong with this without looking very hard but if you switch off your over-critical faculties you will be pleasantly surprised.

(Brian Hannan is a columnist for Cinema Retro magazine. He also runs the web site The Magnificent 60s and is the author of numerous film related books including "The Making of The Magnificent Seven" which was adapted as special issue of Cinema Retro.) 

By Hank Reineke

It would be a stretch to accurately describe No. 1 of the Secret Service as the third of a series of five films featuring secret agent Charles Vine (aka “Bind”). In 1965 and 1966, at the zenith of the James Bond inspired spy-film boom, director Lindsay Shonteff would helm the first of these two Bond pastiches, Licensed to Kill (1965, aka The Second Best Secret Agent in the Whole Wide World). Though Shonteff was not directly involved with the second of the series, Where the Bullets Fly (1966), both pictures showcased actor Tom Adams as a Connery-styled British secret agent. So it was surprising when, in 1976, Shonteff chose to resurrect the agent, a decade late of the once profitable and exploitable spy-film craze.

Technically speaking, British actor Nicky Henson’s spy, rechristened in No. 1 of the Secret Service as “Charles Bind,” is a different character all together. Though Henson reportedly signed a contract to reprise the role as agent Bind in two subsequent films, the actor, not unwisely, chose instead to return to the more dignified stratosphere of Shakespeare. Shonteff reportedly allowed Henson to break contract, unfazed by the actor’s departure. It was a minor annoyance. Shonteff was already plotting out Charles Bind’s next adventure, working titles provisionally sold as Number One in California or Orchids for No. 1.

Two years following No. 1 of the Secret Service, the director released his follow-up, now titillating titled Licensed to Love and Kill (1979, aka Undercover Lover and The Man from S.E.X.), with actor Gareth Hunt playing the role of Bind in a one-shot. Shonteff would helm one final spy comedy based on Vine/Bind character, Number One Gun (1990), with actor Michael Howe credited as a super spy simply referred to as “Number One.” Spy film wonks can argue over their vodka martinis whether or not these five films, strung-out over a period of twenty-five years, constitute an actual series. At the very least, one can say the films are cousins.

In the course of a ten-minute video essay included in this new Blu-ray set from Kino Cult, “The Irrepressible Lindsay Shonteff” (2024), writer-narrator Chris O’ Neill, helps set the stage of how No. 1 of the Secret Service came to fruition. The British studio film industry was suffering an acute economic downturn in the 1970s, production of higher-quality studio films in decline. This circumstance gave such savvy independents as the Canadian-born Shonteff open-door access to cinema bookings by delivering a stream of bankable low-budget – and sometimes tawdry - film product for exhibition. The gruff voiced Shonteff was neither an auteur nor a particular genre specialist: he churned out horror, western and war films, sex comedies and hippie-rock dramas in equal measure.

As there was a scarcity of roles available to actors due to the industry downturn, many well-respected players, by necessity, would take on roles not likely considered in better times. Taking advantage of the depressed economic situation, Shonteff managed to pull together an inarguable respectable cast for No. 1 of the Secret Service: a film which, quite frankly, was neither a particularly interesting nor reputation-enhancing project. In July of ’76 Shonteff hinted to Screen International, “We’re negotiating for what I think is a pretty exciting British cast. I can’t reveal the names until we finalise the three key performers we’re going for.”

Such negotiations broke his way. Shonteff’s greatest “coup” was convincing the dramatic actor Richard Todd – nominated by the Academy in 1950 as “Best Actor in a Leading Role” - to agree to appear in his film as the villainous Arthur Loveday. Nicky Henson (Charles Bind) and Aimi MacDonald (Anna Hudson) were perhaps not as famous as Todd, but were familiar faces to British television audiences. Other notables cast in supporting roles was Jon Pertwee (of Doctor Who fame) and Geoffrey Keen (“Rockwell,” as a Defence Minister at MI5). Keen, of course, soon afterward would play a very similar character (“Frederick Gray,” Minister of Defence) in six James Bond films.

As the starting date of production loomed, Shonteff – having recently suffered through a terrible critical response to his dramatic adaptation of Len Deighton’s Spy Story – was anxious to move on - and lighten things up. Though his 008 of the Secret Service (working title) was designed as just another James Bond knock-off, the director bragged he was determined his Charles Bind was “going to be every bit as good as the high-priced agent. We’ve got things in 008 that haven’t even been seen in features yet.”

The film was shot at a “frantic pace” as per documentarian O’Neill. Indeed, No. 1 of the Secret Service was shot in the spirit of “a live action cartoon,” with episodic sequencing ala a Looney Tunes “Roadrunner vs. Wile E. Coyote” standoff. The film’s editor, John Luton, would describe Shonteff, both a friend and mentor, as a “low-budget guerilla filmmaker” and “rule-breaker,” a movie industry maverick who cut every potential corner possible. Shonteff shot his films entirely on location, sans soundstage rentals, formal permits or even with proper union cast and crew representation. Luton would describe Shonteff as a filmmaker “ahead of his time,” a “clever,” “good-hearted” boss with a “Mel Brooksian” sense of outrageous parody.

Luton first met Shonteff in 1966, having agreed to an uncredited actor’s casting in the director’s production of Run with the Wind. The twenty-one year old wasn’t particularly interested in acting: he was actually looking for industry entry as a prospective writer-editor. Luton would eventually accomplish his goal, successfully working in London as a television commercial editor. Luton’s very first opportunity to edit a feature film project came when Shonteff hired him to cut No. 1 of the Secret Service. The editor admitted to being a bit nonplussed when, after finishing his physical cut, discovered Shonteff went a bit overboard in post-production, looping in an assortment of crazy sound effects. Shonteff once humbly admitted to Luton of the artistic shortcomings of his oeuvre. They “Weren’t great pictures,” Shonteff reasoned, “but they were good enough.”

I suppose that assessment is a fair one. The scripting of No. 1 of the Secret Service is thin in construction, the storyline entirely subservient in tying together the film’s comedy and action sequences. The film’s screenwriter is credited as one Howard Craig, but it’s alleged this was simply Shonteff’s writing pseudonym. The project was something of a family affair, Shonteff’s wife, Elizabeth Gray, serving as the film’s producer. The plot revolves around the desire of multi-millionaire-villain Arthur Loveday to orchestrate the assassinations of high-finance figures. Loveday believes such men are crass arms profiteers, impediments to world peace.

By Hank Reineke

Singer-songwriter Janis Ian was born on 7 April 1951, the grandchild of Russian, Ukrainian and Polish immigrants. Her family would maintain a modest chicken farm in rural Farmingdale, New Jersey. As ancestors had suffered the indignities and harassments of pogroms directed at Jews in Czarist Russia, the American vision of both of her parents was of a democratic and just society that championed politically progressive ideals. As such, both her mother and father were actively involved in the civil and worker’s rights issues of the day. Sadly, these noble desires brought her father to the attention of the F.B.I. in the paranoid, dark days of the country’s McCarthyism. Though gifted on both piano and guitar and holding personal ambition to teach music, her father was unable to secure a tenured position in education due to F.B.I. interference in hiring.

With his great love of classic music and jazz, Ian’s father was the first to school his daughter on piano. Like many pre-teens of the era, Ian’s earliest music desire was to be a Beatle. But with the Cold War raging and the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 offering fearful headlines, Ian began to tune into folk music orientated radio programs. She was introduced to - and greatly impressed by - the powerful voice of the folksinger Odetta whom she caught on a Harry Belafonte television program. Teaching herself guitar from her father’s copy of an old Lead Belly songbook, the young girl soaked in the musical influences surrounding her: a disparate mélange of blues, jazz, folk, classical and Elizabethan balladry.

Ian spent several summers at a children’s camp in upstate New York. It was there that she continued honing her guitar skills, discovering the solidarity of sing-a-longs when such politically left-performers as Pete Seeger would pass through to entertain the campers. Though Ian would leave high school while still in the tenth grade, she wrote songs almost from the beginning. Since she was musically gifted and well tutored, many of her compositions were more complex in structure than the usual three-chord bangs of her contemporaries on the folk scene. New York’s Broadside magazine was hosting Sunday afternoon singer-songwriter hootenannies at Greenwich Village’s Village Gate, the editors always interested in showcasing new artists. Though she was only thirteen-years-of-age, Ian was invited to the Gate to share the stage alongside the folk-singing, topical song heroes she had been listening to on radio: Tom Paxton, Phil Ochs, Len Chandler and Eric Anderson to name a few.

One of her earliest and most challenging songs was “Society’s Child,” a song addressing prejudicial attitudes regarding inter-racial relationships. Her talent was recognized immediately, one producer, George “Shadow” Morton, bringing her in for a formal audition. Though Atlantic Records had fronted the studio costs of producing Ian’s debut album, the label ultimately balked upon hearing “Society’s Child” and its AM radio-unfriendly, taboo subject matter. Though Morton was given permission to market the album to other interested parties, no fewer than twenty-two labels turned them down flat due to the inclusion of the controversial song. In 1966, the Verve Forecast label would formally sign Ian, releasing the artist’s first four albums and even bravely issuing “Society’s Child” as a 45rpm single.

The LP might have been lost in the shuffle of the folk-rock craze had it not been for the intervention of Leonard Bernstein, music director of the New York Philharmonic. Bernstein, a political liberal of note, would showcase Ian on an episode of his television program. Sales of Ian’s eponymously-titled album would soar due to the exposure. Not yet a seasoned stage performer, Ian found herself the scourge of racists who purchased blocks of tickets only to disrupt her concerts with bomb threats and angry shouts of “n****r lover.” Though shaken, Ian stood her ground, noting service and integrity was the responsibility of a true artist. Visiting the west coast, Ian was greeted warmly at Berkeley and made fast friends with the likes of Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix, both artists supportive of her vision and protective due to her young age.

Ian would move in and share a romantic relationship of four or five years with photographer Peter Cunningham, though she was already – perhaps not yet fully aware or accepting of it – bisexual. Comedian Bill Cosby caused her trouble early on by (falsely) outing her following their mutual appearance on The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour. The charge was brushed away and, at only seventeen years of age, Ian could already boast of a sold out concert at Lincoln Center’s Philharmonic Hall.

Shaken by the assassination of Martin Luther King in April 1968, a grieving Ian walked home sadly through Manhattan. A stranger offered her a consoling bottle of Coca-Cola, not telling her it was laced with acid. Ian would experience a particularly bad acid trip, hallucinating for four full days. She eventually needed the assistance of a Philadelphia-based psycho-therapist to help right her ship. She slowly returned to writing, Don McLean’s debut album - and particularly his Van Gogh tribute “Vincent” – having convinced her to re-focus her energies on songwriting.

Ian would record a trio of her best known albums for Columbia Records at 914 Studios in Blauvelt, NY, each under the direction of producer-engineer Brooks Arthur. The first of these, Stars (1974) burnished her songwriting credentials, several of her songs recorded by the likes of Cher, Roberta Flack, Nine Simone, Mel Torme and Glen Campbell amongst others. Her follow-up album, Between the Lines (1975) proved a true commercial breakthrough as the LP included Ian’s pensive and haunting “At Seventeen.” The song scored a #3 slot on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, its success enabling an appearance on Johnny Carson’s late night talk show. Ian would later bring home the Best Pop Vocal Performance award at the annual Grammy Awards ceremony.

Ian would celebrate her twenty-first birthday on the west coast, entering into a new relationship with a woman. Though her sexuality was known to an inner-circle of close friends and collaborators, her personal life remained mostly off the media radar. That relationship would sadly be the first of a number of ill-fated pairings with partners of both sexes. Reflective of this difficult time, Ian’s third album for Columbia, Aftertones (1975) underperformed on the charts, her personal, elegant songs losing market vogue. Her relationship with Columbia cooled as the label turned their attention to such emerging rock-styled artists as Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel.

There was a downturn in her professional and personal life. Producer Arthur and Ian would part ways following disagreement on the best path forward to promote her artistry. Then a headline-grabbing reporter publicly outed her bisexuality in a long piece published in the Village Voice. Ironically, that revealing article was published near the time the songwriter had separated from her partner, the girlfriend abandoning her for a male session drummer. Ian too would eventually meet (and marry) a man, but this relationship too would sour, this emotionally abusive husband even holding a gun to her at one point.

Cinema Retro has been made aware of a unique new book, "The Blofeld Files" by Peter Waelty and Stefan Appel, which chronicles the making of the 1969 James Bond classic "On Her Majesty's Secret Service". The book features Forewords by George Lazenby and Steven Saltzman and boasts over 700 photographs, many published here for the first time.

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By Fred Blosser

“The Black Tulip,” a 1964 release starring Alain Delon and Virna Lisi, is now available in a Blu-ray edition from Kino Lorber Studio Classics. The film begins in 1789 as the French Revolution looms, a coming storm that the country’s counts, barons, and marquises casually dismiss. The lower classes simply need to be kept in line by hanging the troublemakers, they decide. A greater threat is the Black Tulip, a masked bandit who regularly stops their carriages and takes their valuables at sword-point. One nobleman, Baron La Mouche, suspects that the masked man is actually a fellow aristocrat, Guillaume de Saint Preux, and sets a trap to prove that his conjecture is right. When the Black Tulip attacks his coach, La Mouche crosses swords with him and slashes his cheek. The wound will mark de Saint Preux when the young man appears at the next dinner hosted by the Marquis de Vigogne. Exposing Guillaume as the bandit will make La Mouche a hero among his fellow patricians. It will also remove the handsome de Saint Preux as La Mouche’s primary rival for the sexual favours of the marquis’ wife, Catherine.

Fortunately for the one aristocrat and unfortunately for the other, Guillaume has a twin younger brother, Julien, on whom he prevails to take his place for as long as it takes his wound to heal. Guillaume needs Julien’s eyes and ears in de Vigogne’s inner circle so that he can plan his next robberies. The idealistic Julien admires Guillaume’s dashing personality and agrees to the scheme. The ruse enables the younger brother, who comes to sympathise with the common folk, to gather valuable intelligence for the rebels. Delon deftly plays both roles, or rather three roles: Julien, Guillaume, and Julien pretending to be Guillaume. Learning that royalist troops are on their way to suppress the uprising, Julien hopes that the shrewd, tactically minded Guillaume will help him foil the crackdown. But the cynical older brother throws cold water on his optimism. Guillaume reveals that he’s never had any sympathy for the underclass, and whatever wealth he steals from his peers, he keeps for himself. So it’s up to Julien to help the peasants without his experienced brother’s assistance.

“The Black Tulip” was widely released in Europe but a no-show in U.S. theaters, at a time when interest here in the swashbuckling genre pioneered by Douglas Fairbanks Sr., Fairbanks Jr., Errol Flynn, and Tyrone Power was at a low ebb. In the new Hollywood of the era, the French Revolution and costumed heroes were out, the sexual revolution and Brooks Brother suits were in. The genre would remain dormant for another decade, until the success of Richard Lester’s “The Three Musketeers” (1974) inspired a modest revival. Remakes of “The Three Musketeers” and other swashbucklers continue to appear sporadically, including parodies and oddities like “Cheech and Chong’s The Corsican Brothers” (1984), Mel Brooks’ “Robin Hood: Men in Tights” (1993), and even “Barbie and the Three Musketeers” (2008).

The new Kino Lorber release of “The Black Tulip” will enable most viewers to see the movie for the first time. The opening credits cite Alexander Dumas as an inspiration for the premise and script, and indeed Dumas wrote a novel titled “The Black Tulip,” but as critic Simon Abrams observes in his audio commentary, the novel and the film have nothing in common but the title. Instead the storyline takes a little bit of this and a little of that from Dumas’ other popular works, from the swashbuckling fiction of his successors Rafael Sabatini, Baroness Orczy, and Anthony Hope, and especially from the five decades of earlier pictures based on those novels. Consequently, we have the lookalike imposter (“The Corsican Brothers,” “The Man in the Iron Mask,”“The Prisoner of Zenda”), the masked hero (any number of Zorro stories), and intrigue during the French Revolution (“Scaramouche,” “The Scarlet Pimpernel,” A Tale of Two Cities,” and two 1940s titles actually based if loosely on Dumas novels, 1945’s “The Fighting Guardsman” and 1949’s “Black Magic”). Some fans will have fun teasing out the influences, but others may conclude they’ve already been-there, done-that once too often, although counter-balancing assets include lavish production values and energetic performances by Delon, Lisi as Julien’s girlfriend Caroline in the rebel camp, Akim Tamiroff as the marquis, and Dawn Addams as his promiscuous wife. Fans of Girl Power will appreciate that the luminous Virna Lisi has as many scenes wielding a sword as Delon has, including a flirtatious match between Julien and Caroline in which she scores points as often as he does.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray presents “The Black Tulip” in its original French language version in a 2.20:1 aspect with sharp, rich cinematography and clear English subtitles. Besides Simon Abrams’ informative commentary, the disc includes the movie’s theatrical trailer and trailers for several other Alain Delon films on Blu-ray.

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(Fred Blosser is the author of "Focus on the Spaghetti Western #1:The Films of Tony Kendall". Click here to order from Amazon.)

“WHAT’S HE DOING ON A F-F-F-FORK LIFT TRUCK?”

By Raymond Benson

The Boulting Brothers (John and Roy) were a British filmmaking team (and identical twins!) active primarily in the 1940s and 50s. They mostly made acerbic satirical comedies, often with a social issue stance. They directed a handful of titles together, but usually either John or Roy would direct (Roy did the most), they both produced, and one or the other would contribute to the screenplays. Having formed their own production company, Charter Film Productions, in 1937, the brothers enjoyed a great deal of creative freedom and, at times, considerable success. Their films were not for everyone, but occasionally they made a classic… and I’m All Right Jack is absolutely one of them.

The picture did a great service for actor Peter Sellers, catapulting him into stardom on the British scene after a stellar radio career (The Goon Show) and several cinema appearances in the latter 1950s. Even though he didn’t have top billing, Sellers’ standout performance in Jack was noticed by Hollywood and, by 1963, he had migrated across the Atlantic.

I’m All Right Jack takes its name from a British slang phrase that is, according to Collins Dictionary, generally a smug remark that indicates complacent selfishness. The story has to do with the rather serious subject of unions in the U.K., and it’s a send-up of industrial working class sensibilities in the late fifties. It’s a sequel to the Boultings’ 1956 comedy, Private’s Progress, and Sellers’ costars, Ian Carmichael, Dennis Price, Terry-Thomas, Richard Attenborough, and Miles Malleson all reprise the roles they played in that picture. Sellers, though, won a BAFTA Best Actor Award for playing the trades union shop steward.

Stanley Windrush (Carmichael) is a well-meaning but ultimately naïve and oafish young man who wants a job in “industry.” After a few unsuccessful and comical landings at various factories, his uncle, wealthy Bertram Tracepurcel (Price) and his pal, Sidney DeVere Cox (Attenborough), push Stanley into an unskilled labor job at Tracepurcel’s missile factory. The union shop steward, Mr. Kite (Sellers) is at first in conflict with Stanley, but eventually becomes something of a mentor, even allowing Stanley to lodge at his home. There, Stanley becomes enamored with Kite’s daughter, Cynthia (Liz Fraser), and vice versa, much to Kite’s chagrin. However, the factory personnel manager, Major Hitchcock (Terry-Thomas) hits a roadblock with Stanley when the latter outperforms the other workers in a rigged time and motion study that was secretly instigated by Tracepurcel and Cox. When Hitchcock wants the rest of the workers to do as well as Stanley, Kite orders a general strike… which is what Tracepurcel and Cox want so that Cox’s own company can steal a lucrative contract with a Middle Eastern country. But soon tables are turned and all hell breaks loose among the trade unions… all over the country!

Yes, the plot is political and a bit complicated, but it also provides several scene-stealing moments for Sellers as he, at first, undergoes a slow burn, but then quickly escalates to red-faced anger (too bad the film is in black and white!). Carmichael, as Stanley, is the protagonist, though, and he, too, is quite winning as the insufferable fool who manages to be at the center of everyone’s frustrations. In fact, there are so many popular British character actors in supporting and cameo roles that anyone with a knowledge of UK cinema history will have a grand time spotting the players. Even Sellers pops up in a brief secondary role at the beginning of the movie.

Written by Frank Harvey and John Boulting with Alan Hackney, the dialogue is razor sharp. The film must have been considered for adults only at the time. One stuttering shop steward is aghast at seeing Stanley on the fork lift for the first time and shouts, “What’s he doing on a f- f- fork lift truck?” An opening scene at a nudist colony displays bare bottoms in the background action. And this was 1959!

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray release is top-notch with an excellent transfer. It comes with an audio commentary by authors and comedy historians Gemma and Robert Ross. There is also an interview with actress Liz Fraser which highlights her roles in various British comedies of the era. The theatrical trailer for this and other Kino comedies round out the package.

I’m All Right Jack is for fans of Peter Sellers, other UK actors in the cast, British comedies, and the always interesting Boulting Brothers.

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By Lee Pfeiffer

Critics should always tread carefully when covering movies in the film noir genre. Generally speaking, these are complex plots with a number of twists and all too often reviewers tend to disclose too many spoilers. Having said that, I'll try to cover Crime of Passion in a manner that doesn't commit that cardinal sin. The film has a couple of elements that are common to the genre, most notably a femme fatale who plays upon the trust of her husband in order to engage in illicit activities. In this case, our leading lady is Barbara Stanwyck as Kathy Doyle, a liberated independent career woman who exists in an era that doesn't look favorably on independent career women. However, Kathy enjoys her position as a prominent and popular advice columnist for a major San Francisco newspaper. She answers her readers' queries in a witty and often sarcastic manner that has become her trademark. (Adding to the unique aspects of the character, Stanwyck was 50 years-old at the time.) Her life takes a change when she is visited by two L.A. police detectives, Lt. Bill Doyle (Sterling Hayden) and Captain Charlie Alidos (Royal Dano). They want to enlist her help in flushing out a female murder suspect who is hiding in San Francisco. In short order, Kathy uses her sources and column to locate the suspect, gain her trust and convince her to surrender. In the course of the investigation, she and Bill form a mutual attraction. When Kathy's grumpy boss continues to disparage her contributions to the newspaper, she accepts a position with a New York paper and summarily quits her current job. However, she phones Bill and offers to make a one night stopover to see him in L.A.  It is a decision that will have dramatic consequences for both of them.

Upon arriving in L.A., Kathy and Bill's reunion proves to be a torrid one....so passionate, in fact, that they spontaneously decide to quickly get married, despite Kathy's previous aversion to trying to find wedded bliss. This being 1957, as a condition of marriage, Kathy has to agree to quit her career and settle down in Bill's modest suburban house in Burbank. She readily does and is soon welcomed into Bill's social circle that consists almost entirely of fellow cops and their wives. The urbane Kathy soon tires of the monotony of her new social life which finds the cops sitting in one room drinking, smoking and playing poker while their wives sit in another room discussing boring domestic issues. The only factor that changes is the locations, as the friends alternate in hosting the get-togethers. Kathy is also becoming frustrated by Bill's lack of interest in achieving advancement in his police career. He's a laid-back, unambitious guy who is content at just being a good, honest cop. Kathy sees things differently and begins to hatch an elaborate secret scheme to ensure the couple's social status rises. She focuses on Bill's boss, Inspector Anthony Pope (Raymond Burr) and his wife Alice (Fay Wray). We won't divulge all the details but suffice it to say that her attempt to seduce Pope leads to terrible and unforeseen consequences that include betrayal, infidelity and finally murder.

The movie has some interesting historical and sociological overtones. In the post-WWII era, America had emerged as the world's only superpower. After enduring the Great Depression and the horrors of two world wars and the Korean War, the nation had settled into a period of relative affluence and comfort with the emergence of an empowered middle class. The government was trusted and benefits came to the working class, as suburbia boomed and people left the big urban centers in droves. Much of this was depicted in T.V. shows of the era which presented suburban life as middle-class bliss, ignoring the fact that not only were the picket fences pure white, but with few exceptions, so was the population that was shown. Movies, however, often had a darker view of suburbia. If television often over-sanitized it, films sometimes went overboard in presenting the new American lifestyle as defined by people who had too much money and leisure time, thus turning the American Dream into scenarios defined by greed and lust befitting the court of Caligula. Perhaps the most powerful example of this is director Martin Ritt's "No Down Payment" released the same year as "Crime of Passion". By the end of the 1960s, bored suburbanites were fodder for comedies that included the wife-swapping classic "Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice" from director Paul Mazursky.  

"Crime  of Passion" is by no means classic film noir but thanks to a terrific cast, it is an intriguing contribution to the genre....if one can get over a key plot weakness, namely, Kathy's overwhelming passion for Bill and her decision to quickly ditch her career in order to be with him. As played by Sterling Hayden, Bill is a normal working stiff and isn't a Rock Hudson lookalike. His manner is subdued and in terms of wit, he doesn't appear to be the Noel Coward of Burbank. There is never any logical reason for the cosmopolitan (and presumably sexually liberated) Kathy to fawn over him like a high school girl with her first crush. Nevertheless, Barbara Stanwyck plays the role to the hilt and is never less than mesmerizing on screen. The film, under the steady hand of Gerd Oswald, features a marvelous supporting cast, with Raymond Burr particularly good as yet another man in a stable relationship whose life is adversely affected by meeting Kathy. There's a good deal of talent behind the scenes, too, including screenwriter Jo Eisinger, who wrote "Gilda" and "Night and the City" and sound effects editor Verna Fields, who would go on to be an Oscar-winning film editor.

"Crime of Passion" is a flawed but entertaining film noir flick. It is currently streaming on Screenpix, though the print being used is underwhelming in terms of quality. Unfortunately, the American DVD from MGM is out of print and it hasn't been released on Blu-ray. Screenpix is an add-on streaming service available through Amazon Prime, YouTube, Roku and other major services.

(Trivia note: Turner Classic Movies' film noir host Eddie Muller has pointed out that the film marked the end of Barbara Stanwyck and Raymond Burr's association with the film noir genre. Burr would go on to star in the iconic "Perry Mason" TV series and Stanwyck would also star in a hit series, "The Big Valley" and would continue to appear occasionally on the big screen in supporting roles. Director Gerd Oswald would work with Burr again on numerous episodes of "Perry Mason".)

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(Photo: Cinema Retro Archive)

Ted  Kotcheff, one of the most prominent Canadian movie directors, has passed away at age 94. Kotcheff became interested in directing after a trip to Broadway in 1953. Enamored by the shows he had seen, he decided to concentrate on a career in the arts. He emigrated to London where he directed live T.V. shows and theater productions. In 1974, he had gravitated to feature films and directed "The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz", the acclaimed Canadian film that made a star of Richard Dreyfuss. The success of that film opened doors in Hollywood. Kotcheff provided Sylvester Stallone with his first post-"Rocky" hit, 'First Blood", the movie that introduced the character of Rambo. Despite the film being a boxoffice smash, Kotcheff declined to direct the sequel because he felt it glamorized the Vietnam War, which he opposed. Kotcheff's portfolio of films were distinguished by their diversity. Among them: "North Dallas 40", "Life at the Top", "Uncommon Valor", "Weekend at Bernie's", "Who is Killing the Great Chefs of Europe" and the acclaimed 1971 Australian film "Wake in Fright" (aka "Outback"), a truly unsettling and disturbing tale that won wide critical acclaim but which never enjoyed a wide international release. Kotcheff was also the Executive Producer of the long-running hit T.V. series "Law and Order:SVU". For more, click here.  (Lee Pfeiffer)

Review by Adrian Smith 

Headpress

Published February 2025

460 pages

229 images, colour throughout

Paperback (collector’s hardback edition also available)

ISBN: 978-1-915316-43-1

RRP: £23.99

The list of people that Chris Alexander has interviewed is quite extraordinary. In this book you can find, amongst others, interviews with Maria Rohm, Gene Simmons, Gary Sherman, Anna Biller, Caroline Munro, John Waters, Nicky Henson, Mink Stole, Luigi Cozzi, Judy Matheson, Lone Fleming, Michael Winner (Alexander is clearly a brave man), Joe Dante, Werner Herzog and Nicolas Cage, the latter providing a memorable experience when the author gets an invite to Cage's private island in the Bahamas.

The tagline for Art! Trash! Terror! states that the book explores “some of the most eccentric and unforgettable movies in cult film history,” which is of course highly subjective. But it does lead to a wide range of films (along with a whole section being dedicated to The Twilight Zone (1959-1964) being discussed) from older classics like The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), to relatively recent offerings like the controversial The House That Jack Built (2018). The latter is a film which caused festival screening walkouts and MPAA fury but is defended here are as a black comedy which only the Danish “purveyor of bad taste,” Lars Von Trier, could make.

It would be pointless to try and list them all, so I’ll just mention that some of the other films which fall under the umbrella of “eccentric and forgettable” include Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park (1978), Never Take Sweets from a Stranger (1960), Maximum Overdrive (1986), Tombs of the Blind Dead (1972), Who Can Kill a Child? (1976), Contamination (1980) and Scream Blacula Scream (1973). Any of these would be a great night out, but if like me you usually have to watch movies like this on your own, reading Chris Alexander’s essays is a good substitute for that chat you have with a friend after the movie has finished and you’re trying to figure out what it was you just saw.

Art! Trash! Terror! is an eclectic collection of essays, musings, reviews and interviews with a heavy leaning towards horror, which, given that the author is the former Fangoria editor-in-chief, is as it should be. The only negative aspect is that the book is littered with spelling mistakes, some so egregious they would make Cinema Retro’s copy editor explode with rage. Perhaps it helps give the book the feel of a personal blog or diary rather than a polished, edited final product. This writing is straight from Chris Alexander’s brain to the printed page, and then straight into yours.

You can order Art! Trash! Terror! Adventures in Strange Cinema from Headpress: https://headpress.com/product/art-trash-terror/

By Lee Pfeiffer

In the estimation of many film scholars the 1970s was the most adventurous and liberating period in the history of the medium. The new freedoms in regard to sex, violence and adult themes that had exploded in the mid-1960s became even more pronounced in the '70s. Among the most daring studios to take advantage of this trend was United Artists. The studio had been conceived by iconic actors in the silent era with the intent of affording artists as much creative control over their productions as possible. UA had continued to fulfill that promise, producing a jaw-dropping number of box-office hits and successful film franchises. The studio also disdained censorship and pushed the envelope with high profile movie productions. The daring decision to fund the X-rated "Midnight Cowboy" paid off handsomely. The 1969 production had not only been a commercial success but also won the Best Picture Oscar. A few years later UA went even further out on a limb by distributing "Last Tango in Paris". The studio fully capitalized on the worldwide sensation the movie had made and the many attempts to restrict it from being shown at all in certain areas of the globe. Like "Midnight Cowboy", "Tango" was an important film by an important director that used graphic images of sexual activity for dramatic intensity. Unfortunately, not every filmmaker who was inspired by these new freedoms succeeded in the attempt to mainstream X-rated fare during those years that the rating wasn't only synonymous with low-budget porno productions. Case in point: screenwriter John Byrum, who made his directorial debut with "Inserts", a bizarre film that UA released in 1975 that became a legendary bomb. The movie had previously been released as a limited edition Blu-ray by the late, great boutique label Twilight Time and has been out of print for years. Now, the Warner Archive has released their own Blu-ray edition. 

The claustrophobic tale resembles a filmed stage production. It is set primarily in one large living room in a decaying Hollywood mansion. The time period is the 1930s, shortly after the introduction of sound to the movie industry resulted in the collapse of silent pictures (Charlie Chaplin being the notable exception.) The central character, played by Richard Dreyfuss, is not named but is referred to as "The Boy Wonder". From our first glimpse of him we know we are seeing a man in trouble. He is unkempt, dressed in a bathrobe and swizzling booze directly from the bottle. We will soon learn that he was once a respected mainstream director of major studio films and was revered by Hollywood royalty. Now he is a has-been who has resorted to making porn movies in 16mm in his own home. (Yes, Virginia, people liked to watch dirty movies even way back then.) He is entertaining a visitor, Harlene (Veronica Cartwright), a perpetually cheery,  bubble-headed young woman who was once a respected actress but who, like Boy Wonder, has fallen on hard times. She is now a heroin addict who earns a living by "starring" in Boy Wonder's porn productions. They make small talk and some names from the current movie business are bandied about. Harlene tells Boy Wonder that a rising star named Clark Gable is said to be an admirer of his and wants to meet him. Instead of responding favorably to this news, Boy Wonder seems unnerved by it. The implication is that he is locked in a self-imposed downward spiral and lacks the self-confidence to attempt a real comeback. Harlene also needles him about his sexual prowess. It turns out that the king of porn films has long been impotent for reasons never explained.  As they prepare to film some scenes Harlene's male "co-star" (Stephen Davies) arrives. He is nicknamed Rex, The Wonder Dog, which seems to bother him especially when the Wonder Boy uses it to intentionally disparage him. Like Harlene, Rex is short on brains but is physically attractive. Boy Wonder seems to have a real resentment towards him, perhaps because Rex is a powerhouse in bed while he can't get anything going despite directing naked people in sex scenes. It becomes clear that Boy Wonder and Rex don't like each other. Boy Wonder ridicules Rex for performing sex acts on male studio executives who he naively believes will help him become a star. However, their relationship looks downright friendly compared to the interaction between Harlene and Rex. When Rex is a little slow in becoming physically aroused, Harlene mocks him mercilessly. This results in him essentially subjecting her to a violent rape which thrills Boy Wonder, who captures it all on film. Harlene doesn't appear to be any worse for the wear, however, and blithely says she's going off to a bedroom to rest.

The household is next visited by mobster Big Mac (Bob Hoskins), the man who finances Boy Wonder's film productions. He is accompanied by his financee Cathy Cake (Jessica Harper), a pretty young woman who seems to have a particular interest in the forbidden world of pornography. Big Mac and Boy Wonder also hate each other. Big Mac berates Boy Wonder for making his porn flicks too esoteric and artistic for their intended audiences who just want a cheap thrill. However, for Boy Wonder the porn films represent the last opportunity he has to demonstrate the cinematic style and camera angles that once impressed critics and the public. In the midst of their arguing, it is discovered that a tragedy has occurred: Harlene has died from a heroin overdose. Everyone seems nonplussed by the news and Big Mac's only concern is to ditch the body somewhere quickly. Turns out Rex has a part time job in a funeral parlor and can arrange for a gruesome plan in which they dump her body inside a grave that is being prepared for another person's funeral the next day. The plan is to dig a bit deeper, bury Harlene, then place a layer of dirt over her and have the "new" body placed on top of hers. As Big Mac and Rex leave to "undertake" this sordid task, Boy Wonder finds himself alone with Cathy Cake. She wants to use the time to have Boy Wonder film her in her own personal porn movie since Big Mac would never let his "fiancee" do so with his knowledge. She finds the idea of sex on film to be a stimulant but Boy Wonder won't have any of it. He knows that Big Mac's volatile temper and ever-present bodyguard could result in him being the next corpse in the house. Cathy Cake tries another tactic and feigns interest in Boy Wonder. He lets his guard down and gradually is seduced by her. She even manages to cure his impotence but the tryst turns ugly when she learns he has not filmed it. Boy Wonder soon discovers that his renewed pride and self-respect is to be short-lived when it becomes clear that Cathy Cake actually loathes him and was only using him in order to fulfill her porn movie fantasy. The ploy works to a degree- her attention to Boy Wonder reawakens his sexual prowess but when she learns the camera wasn't rolling, she cruelly tells him that she only used him for selfish purposes. With this, Big Mac and Rex return from their horrendous errand and catch Boy Wonder in bed with Cathy Cake. The situation becomes dangerous with Big Mac threatening to kill Boy Wonder and things only deteriorate from there. 

Richard Dreyfuss seemed to have a personal obsession with this film. He was very involved in all aspects of its production and remained defensive about the movie after its harsh reception from critics. The movie's complete rejection by reviewers and the public might have hurt his career but Dreyfuss already had "American Graffiti" and "Jaws" under his belt. Soon he would also star in another blockbuster, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" followed by his Oscar-winning performance in "The Goodbye Girl". The fact that so few people ever saw "Interiors" actually worked to his advantage. However, whatever motivated him to become involved in this bizarre project remains a mystery. It's an ugly tale about ugly people doing ugly things to each other. If there is a message here, I didn't receive it. There isn't a single character you can identify with or sympathize with. They are all self-obsessed cynics with no redeeming traits. That leaves us with whatever values the performances afford us and it's a mixed bag. Dreyfuss is miscast. He was twenty nine years-old when he made the film and, despite his sordid appearance which ages him considerably, he is still far too young to portray a once-great movie director who has fallen on hard times. John Byrum's direction of Dreyfuss is unsteady. At times he encourages him to underplay scenes while at other times he has Dreyfuss chew the scenery mercilessly. Similarly, Stephen Davies plays the brain-dead hunk Rex with flamboyantly gay characteristics one minute then suddenly transforms into a heterosexual stud the next. Bob Hoskins in what would become his trademark tough-guy gangster mode but gives a solid performance. The best acting comes from the two female leads with Veronica Cartwright especially good as the ill-fated Harlene. Jessica Harper also does well in her thankless role. Both women seem at ease in doffing their clothes and playing much of their scenes in a provocative state. Cartwright even goes full frontal for the violent sex scene with Rex while Harper spends almost the entire last act of the film being photographed topless. Curiously, the willingness to appear nude onscreen was considered the epitome of female emancipation in films during the 1970s but the practice  has largely become frowned upon in more recent years. In fact the days are long gone when virtually every major actress had to appear naked on screen. Today, female emancipation is the ability to play erotic scenes on screen without having to be completely compromised. 

By Ernie Magnotta

Everybody loves the late, great John Candy. Although he sadly passed away at the extremely young age of 43, he left behind a comedic legacy that has entertained and will continue to entertain millions. From his start as a member of the famed improv comedy troupe “The Second City” to the beloved sketch comedy show SCTV, to a string of classic comedies throughout the 1980s and 90s such as The Blues Brothers (1980), Stripes (1981), National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983), Going Berserk (a guilty pleasure of mine also from ‘83), Splash (1984), Brewster’s Millions (1985), Armed and Dangerous (1986), Spaceballs (1987), Only the Lonely (1991) and of course, Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987) and Uncle Buck (1989), just to name a few, Candy never failed to make us laugh.

Recently, a well-loved Candy starrer, Summer Rental, was released on Blu-ray. Summer Rental follows loveable Jack Chester (Candy); a burnt-out air traffic controller who takes his family to Florida for a much-needed vacation, but finds constant (hilarious) frustration at every turn.

Solidly directed by comedy legend Carl Reiner and released in August of 1985, Summer Rental is a very enjoyable 80s comedy which is definitely worth checking out. Besides a wonderfully charming performance from Candy, the movie also features Richard Crenna and Rip Torn (who both steal quite a few scenes) as an obnoxious rich sailing champion and a “pirate” who owns a restaurant boat, respectively.

The talented cast continues as we have Karen Austin (as Candy’s wife), John Larroquette, Richard Herd, Lois Hamilton, Carmine Caridi and, as Candy’s children, Kerri Green, Joey Lawrence (in his theatrical debut) and Aubrey Jene. Reni Santoni, Leigh French and Murphy Dunne also show up, and the feel-good film further benefits from Ric Waite’s lovely cinematography, Alan Silvestri’s terrific musical score, and a song by Jimmy Buffett.

Summer Rental has been released on a region one Blu-ray, comes in a brand new HD master from a 4K scan of the original 35mm camera negative, and is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. The movie looks and sounds fantastic and the disc also contains an audio commentary by film historian Joe Ramoni as well as the featurette “Ear Candy: The Music of Summer Rental” and the original theatrical trailer. Fun stuff. Recommended.

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By Ernie Magnotta

Although I saw Best Defense theatrically way back in 1984, I remembered very little about it. I loved Dudley Moore mainly because of Arthur, but I’m pretty sure my buddy and I went to this one because of Eddie Murphy. Murphy, now a comedy legend, had scored big as a cast member on Saturday Night Live and had also just starred in the now classic films 48 Hrs. and Trading Places. I loved all of it, so, when Best Defense was announced, it was a no brainer that I would be there. As I said, I didn’t remember much about the film except that I was mostly disappointed. And in the over 40 years since its release, I’ve never bothered to sit down and watch it again. Until now, that is.

Best Defense concerns Wylie Cooper (Moore), an engineer who is working on a tank’s targeting system for the US Army. Two years later, Lt. T.M. Landry (Murphy) finds himself in Kuwait testing out the new tank. However, due to Cooper’s screw-ups, Landry loses control of the vehicle and finds himself smack dab in the middle of a war zone.

Distributed by Paramount Pictures and based on the novel “Easy and Hard Ways Out” by Robert Grossbach, Best Defense, which was directed by Willard Huyck and co-written by Huyck and his wife, Gloria Katz (who also produced the movie), is, 40 years later, unfortunately still a mess. A big problem is how obvious it is that Eddie Murphy was never supposed to be part of this film and was added in later due to his incredible popularity. The comedy king doesn’t even have scenes with any members of the cast including Dudley Moore. It was still a smart move because Murphy is the funniest thing in the movie. When he’s on screen, which, sadly, isn’t that often, the film really comes alive. The rest of the movie, however, is a bit slow paced and uninvolving in spots. Because of this, it didn’t score well with test audiences which is why Murphy was called in.

It’s a shame that the film tanked (see what I did there?) because it not only contained comedy giants Murphy and Moore, but it also featured performances by wonderful talent like Kate Capshaw, George Dzundza, Helen Shaver, Tom Noonan and David Rasche.

Still, the movie holds some kind of nostalgia for me (as I’m sure it does with others who saw it on its original release or on cable in the 80s) and, to be honest, I’ve seen worse.

Best Defense has been released in a brand new HD master from a 4K scan of the 1984 35mm camera negative and is presented in its original widescreen aspect ratio (1.85:1). I must say that the film looks and sounds amazing, and the Region 1 disc not only gives us the original theatrical trailer, but also an extremely informative audio commentary by screenwriter/producer Alan Spencer and author/film historian Justin Humphreys.

By Fred Blosser

Some guys have a hard time finding themselves in life, even with the advantage of a comfortable upbringing. It isn’t a new phenomenon. The son of a prosperous Chicago businessman, Edgar Rice Burroughs (1875-1950) floundered through his twenties and early thirties in a series of short-lived, dead-end jobs. At age 37, with a growing family to support on a meager salary, Burroughs threw the proverbial dice and began to write imaginative adventure stories for the pulp-fiction magazines of the day. Burroughs found immediate success and never looked back. Particularly lucrative were his novels about Tarzan of the Apes, an infant raised by great apes in Africa after his marooned parents died. Tarzan eventually returns to civilisation to claim his inheritance as a British peer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, becoming a man who enjoys unfettered freedom in the wild when the notion strikes him, while navigating the demands of polite society as an urbane, globetrotting sophisticate other times.

Next to creating this iconic fictional character, Burroughs’ most inspired move was to register “Tarzan” as a trademark. That way, he retained Tarzan as his own intellectual property to safeguard against anyone else stealing the name. The strategy also turned Tarzan into an even bigger money-maker for his creator, as a property he could license to movies, radio, and comic strips for a handsome fee. One such opportunity arose in 1932, when Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer approached the author for the rights to make a movie titled “Tarzan the Ape-Man.” By then Burroughs had already approved seven Tarzan movies, but all of them had been silent films, largely produced by second-tier studios without MGM’s resources and respectability.

“Tarzan the Ape-Man” was a great success, in part because of MGM’s rich production values and in part because of good timing. 1932 was the grimmest year of the Great Depression, when everybody sought escapist entertainment at the movies. The release also slipped under the ropes before Hollywood began to crack down on sex and nudity under a restrictive production code. Olympic swimming champion Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan and Maureen O’Sullivan as his sweetheart Jane (his wife in the novels, their marital status unclear in the picture) wear revealing jungle skimpies as they frolic in the rain forest. Perhaps to assert its own claim on the character within the limits of the contract with Burroughs, the studio did away with most of the trappings of the novels. Weissmuller’s Tarzan is an athletic but inarticulate lug whose presence in the jungle is largely unexplained, a far cry from the eloquent hero and imaginative backstory of the books.

Some critics say that Burroughs was unhappy with the MGM version, particularly in regard to the portrayal of his brainchild as a lummox. Others disagree, citing evidence to the contrary, including the fact that eleven more Weissmuller movies followed with his approval. At any rate, the opportunity soon arose for Burroughs to present a movie version closer to his vision. The result was “The New Adventures of Tarzan” (1935), a twelve-chapter serial. The film was released by Burroughs-Tarzan Pictures Inc., an independent company headed by Burroughs and a veteran Hollywood actor and producer, Ashton Dearholt.

Now available on Blu-ray from the Film Masters Archive Collection, “The New Adventures of Tarzan” finds the ape-man joining an expedition by an explorer, Major Martling, into the jungles of Guatemala. Martling is searching for the fabulous Green Goddess, an idol worshipped by a lost tribe of Mayans in a ruined city. The Green Goddess contains a fortune in jewels as well as “the formula for an explosive more powerful than any known to modern science.” For modern viewers, the notion of an ancient Mayan secret may bring to mind the crackpot Internet rumour from a few years ago, that the world was fated to destruct on December 21, 2012, according to a Mayan prophecy.

Martling wants to make sure the formula doesn’t fall into the wrong hands of war-mongers. Separately, a young woman, Ula Vale, sets off on her own to vindicate her late fiancé, who died in a plane crash in quest of the idol. Tarzan doesn’t care about the jewels or the formula; he wants to rescue his friend Paul d’Arnot (a pivotal character in the novels), who was marooned in the jungle by the same crash that killed Ula’s fiancé. Meanwhile, a mercenary named Raglan sets off on a rival expedition, financed by a backer who wants to obtain the mysterious formula for sale to the highest bidder. Even if he finds the idol, Raglan still needs a code in hieroglyphics that Martling possesses. Without the code, the idol will blow up if someone tries to open it. If the synopsis sounds familiar, you may remember it from “Tarzan and the Green Goddess,” a 1937 release edited down to 72 minutes from the 240-minute serial. The feature-length version was a perennial on the “Tarzan Theatre” package that local TV stations broadcast weekly in the 1960s and 1970s.

Although the script was an original work credited to Charles F. Royal and Edwin H. Blum, and not an adaptation from any of Burroughs’ novels, it shares the same narrative pattern as Burroughs’ plots: Tarzan is one of several characters who wind up as a loosely aligned group of good guys competing against the bad guys. This ensures a sufficiently large cast for a rapid succession of cliff-hanger thrills in print or on the screen. One character is attacked by a lion, plummets over a waterfall, or faces death from a sacrificial dagger at the end of a chapter. In the next chapter, the character emerges safely as another is placed in jeopardy. In “The New Adventures of Tarzan,” there are almost too many characters, two of whom—Martling’s daughter and her boyfriend, along for the trek—hardly register. Along with d’Arnot, they mostly disappear from the later chapters once it’s clear they aren’t needed. After the quest for the Green Goddess is wrapped up, the final chapter concludes with a holiday party at the Greystoke Estate in England. Bizarrely, everyone at the party wears Gypsy costumes, including Tarzan as their host, Lord Greystoke, who escorts a gorgeous blonde on each arm.

Burroughs and Dearholt gained some publicity mileage from the fact that exterior scenes of Tarzan and his friends mingling with crowds in the town of Puerto Barrios and venturing into old Mayan ruins outside Quirigua were actually filmed in Guatemala. For the most part, though, the interiors were studio sets, and the jungle scenes were filmed in California’s Jungleland USA theme park. In the final product, the footage from the diverse locations is remarkably well integrated. Of the cast and crew, Herman Brix as the handsome, well-spoken Tarzan is the only one likely to be remembered today even by connoisseurs of Hollywood trivia. A former college athlete and Olympics champion, Brix (1906-2007) followed the Tarzan film with further action roles in classic serials like “The Lone Ranger” (1938), “Fighting Devil Dogs” (1938), and “Daredevils of the Red Circle” (1939). After changing his screen name to Bruce Bennett, he moved on to supporting roles in “Mildred Pierce” (1945), “The Treasure of Sierra Madre” (1948), and “The Last Outpost” (1951), where he and Ronald Reagan were cast as estranged brothers. Ashton Dearholt played the villainous Raglan under the assumed name of “Don Costello,” and Ula Vale was played by his protege Ula Holt. Nowadays, TMZ and Entertainment Tonight would jump on the story behind the movie. Dearholt divorced his wife Florence to marry Ula, and Burroughs divorced his wife Emma to marry Florence. It was a musical-chairs, backstage drama that would make a quirky, amusing film or limited series for Netflix. Not to mention the possibilities of humor from the logistics of hauling bulky 1930s camera equipment to Central America.

The Film Masters Blu-ray packs all twelve chapters of the serial onto one disc in a newly restored print. Like the print included in “The Tarzan Vault Collection,” a 2022 Blu-ray from The Film Detective, reviewed by Cinema Retro HERE, the quality here varies from excellent in some portions to serviceable in others, depending on the condition of the source material. Viewing the entire serial in one sitting may be a slog for modern viewers, even those accustomed to binge-watching episodic TV series on streaming platforms and home video. Chapter 1 is too long at nearly 50 minutes, even with several action scenes. The next 11 chapters are shorter, but each lags at the beginning with footage from the preceding instalment to bring viewers up to speed. This was a necessity for watching each new episode in weekly doses in 1935, but cumbersome today. The plot becomes repetitive too, as one character and then another seizes the Mayan code and the explorers fall into the hands of the Mayan cultists twice.

However, thanks to home video, it’s easy to spread the chapters out as they were meant to be seen, or to fast-forward over the repetitive parts if you prefer to watch in fewer sittings. If you do, be careful not to miss the scenes most indebted to the Burroughs novels, like the one where a Mayan high priestess prepares to stab Tarzan on her altar (a standby from at least four of the books), or those where the ape-man lifts his enemies over his head and throws them away like so many used hamburger wrappers as more rush in to attack him. Much of the humor courtesy of a comic-relief character, George, is largely on the infantile level of a snapping turtle latching onto the seat of George’s trousers, but unsympathetic moviegoers could say the same about the comedy provided by second-bananas like Rob Schneider, Tom Arnold, and Kevin Hart in most of the action movies from the past twenty-some years. One passing conversation, though, is laugh-out-loud worthy on its own terms. As Tarzan relays a warning from a chattering monkey, Ula exclaims, “You mean that little ape talked to you?” “Yes, of course,” Tarzan replies. After all, he’s Tarzan. Who doesn’t know he’s fluent in primate-speak?

The Film Masters Archive Collection edition of “The New Adventures of Tarzan” is presented at its proper 1.33:1 aspect ratio, with subtitles for those who don’t have Tarzan’s keen jungle hearing. The strikingly attractive cover art reproduces the original poster illustration for the serial against a black background. There are no other supplemental features for the limited-edition Blu-ray. If it sells well, perhaps Film Masters will be encouraged to produce a second edition with special commentaries and short “making of” documentaries like those on the other collector’s Blu-rays in its catalog.

“The New Adventures of Tarzan” can be ordered HERE.

(Fred Blosser is the author of "Focus on the Spaghetti Western #1:The Films of Tony Kendall". Click here to order from Amazon.)

Many Cinema Retro readers have asked why the U.S. has never seen a DVD or Blu-ray release of Samuel Bronston's epic 1963 film "55 Days at Peking". The answer is that no one seemed to know who held the rights. At one time, Miramax owned them and they began releasing deluxe DVD collector's editions of Brosnan's films, such as "El Cid" and "The Fall of the Roman Empire". Both came in boxed sets and contained reproductions of the original tie-in comic books. At the time Cinema Retro learned from Miramax that they intended to release additional Bronston films such as "55 Days at Peking" and "Circus World". However, they never materialized. Miramax was experiencing many difficulties and ultimately Harvey Weinstein was in the midst of high profile legal cases. Based on this clip posted by Warner Brothers, we can now assume that the studio owns at least partial rights to the epic movie. The question is: will we ever see the deluxe video edition this film deserves? (Lee Pfeiffer)

(Photo:IMDB)

By Mark Cerulli

Robert McGinnis, one of the most prolific and gifted artists to ever ply the movie poster trade, died on March 10th at age 99. Calling McGinnis merely “an artist" doesn’t do him justice – he was a creative force of nature for over four decades and his work has permeated pop culture like few others have.

Originally from Cincinnati, Ohio, McGinnis’s natural talent was readily apparent, and he studied art at Ohio State University before joining the Merchant Marine during WWII. After the war he apprenticed at Disney but was soon drawn to the heady world of New York advertising back when Gotham was the center of the profession. He found work drawing paperback covers – a huge market in those days - illustrating over 1,200 of them at $200 a pop. (Enough to buy a house and raise a family on.) Magazines came calling and he provided art for Playboy, Time, The Saturday Evening Post and others. His distinctive style and flair for the female figure soon caught Hollywood’s eye and McGinnis drew the iconic artwork for 1961’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s film poster. Four years later he would draw Sean Connery’s likeness for the James Bond blockbuster Thunderball. United Artists and Eon Productions came back to him (and illustrator Frank McCarthy, with whom he often collaborated) for You Only Live Twice, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Diamonds Are Forever, Live and Let Die, The Man with the Golden Gun and others. Aside from 007, McGinnis illustrated key art for Barbarella, Semi-Tough, the Matt Helm films, Woody Allen’s Sleeper and the non-Eon 1967 spoof version of Casino Royale, not to mention many others. His favorite was his painting of Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon for 1968’s The Odd Couple. When Hollywood art directors turned away from illustration in favor of Photoshopped images, McGinnis found himself in demand drawing book covers again, mainly for Hard Case Crime editions. Hollywood called him back one last time in 2004 for The Incredibles. (Sadly, his wonderful art wasn’t used theatrically, and was only produced as a limited run for Disney/Pixar executives.) He also returned to his passion of painting images of the Old West and became one of the foremost artists of the genre.

Remarkably, McGinnis was completely unfazed by his massive success, quietly plying his trade in a small studio in Greenwich, Connecticut. As UA’s legendary Bond-era art director Don Smolen once said, “The only person who doesn’t believe Bob is a genius is Bob.” The movie-going public’s verdict has long been in – and yes, Robert McGinnis was a genius and his work will outlive us all.

(For more about Robert McGinnis, click here.)

By Hank Reineke

This new double of Agatha Christie’s Endless Night with Picture Mommy Dead is the second release of Kino Lorber Studio Classics “Peril & Distress” 4K series. Their first 4K series double was a pairing of Robert Fuest’s And Soon the Darkness with John Hough’s Sudden Terror. Kino previously issued all four films as standalone Blu-rays circa 2019-2020, but are now combining the pics in the collector-popular Ultra HD format. Visually the films, of course, appear even more razor-sharp than in their previous high-definition formats. Whether one chooses to upgrade, in my view, is entirely dependent on a given consumers’ enthusiasm for the films.

I previously reviewed Kino’s Blu-ray release of Bert I. Gordon’s Picture Mommy Dead back in February 2023. So I’ll tack on a brief edited portion of my earlier comments following these thoughts of Sidney Gilliat’s psychological-thriller Agatha Christie’s Endless Night. (If one wishes to read through my more thorough essay on Picture Mommy Dead - including the early casting and removal saga of actress Hedy Lamarr - they can do so by clicking here).

North American fans may be a less familiar with Endless Night than those in the UK and continental Europe. Though released in the United Kingdom in October of 1972, Endless Night was never given theatrical release in the U.S. As best as I can determine, the pic’s first widespread American appearance was via a circa 1982/83 VHS release on the HBO/Cannon Video label. As such, many of us can view and assess the film without the baggage of nostalgia.

Endless Night is, of course, based on a novel by the famed mystery writer Agatha Christie. Christie was at the height of her fame, the author’s books all best-sellers and a stage play of The Mousetrap in continual run since 1952 on London’s West End. On 30 October of 1967, Endless Night was published in London by Collins Crime Club. Her newest had reportedly taken the seventy-seven year old a mere six weeks to write, though the story was worked from an earlier unused outline from the author’s notebook. Critics noted Christies’ newest was, stylistically, a “complete departure” from her usual works: the book was written “without the built-in sales appeal” of Christie’s beloved detective creations Miss Marple or Hercule Poirot. Some book critics described Endless Night as a “horror comic,” others as “a study in wickedness” or as an “exciting psychological suspense drama.” I would say the latter two descriptions fit best.

It would be impossible to recount the scenario of the book or film in any detail without revealing major spoilers. The work is, after all, a mystery. Suffice to say the film version – our interest here - revolves around one Michael Rogers (Hywell Bennett). Rogers is a young man obsessed with the fine arts and looking to enjoy the luxuries of good life. His problem is that he’s, at best, an average-guy of lower-middle-class status, someone with little money. He’s also afforded as an irresponsible person of short-term employments, but one with big dreams of upward mobility.

Rogers’ situation drastically changes when he meets Ellie Thomsen (Hayley Mills), an over-protected American girl studying voice at a London conservatory. It’s soon revealed that Ellie is no waif but in fact the “world’s sixth richest girl.” Though their union is frowned upon by Ellie’s guardians, the two marry in a civil ceremony. They begin building the home of Rogers’ dreams on Gipsy Acre, a lovely and serene parcel of land overlooking lush green fields and an ocean view.

The first one-third of the film comes off largely as a romance pic, two young lovers struggling against those disapproving of their relationship. Once Rogers’ dying Italian architect friend, Santonix (Per Oscarsson), oversees the grandiose construction of Roger’s ultra-modern home (complete with indoor water gardens, a pool, retractable panels and floors etc.) one begins to sense something is amiss. Throughout the film’s first half we’re gradually introduced to a cast of mostly unlikeable, or, at the very least, suspiciously odd, people. These characters include Ellie’s guardian (Lois Maxwell) as well as Ellie’s dismissed former German-language instructor but remaining primary confidant girlfriend, Greta (Britt Ekland). Also stalking about the periphery of Gipsy Acres is Miss Townsend (Patience Collier). Townsend is an eccentric old crone, a “local seer” obsessed with spiritualism who warns the young couple to abandon Gipsy Acres… without ever really giving any concrete reason why they should do so.

Old pro George Sanders is also on hand as Andrew Lippincott, a lawyer for Ellie’s guardians. The unusually sympathetic and friendly attorney is seemingly embarrassed to carry out the task asked of him: to offer Michael a tidy sum of cash in exchange for his consenting to a quiet, no-scandal divorce from Ellie. If this scenario thus far appears as little more than a star-crossed, melodramatic romance, you’d be correct. But while the storyline meanders through long periods of exposition, there is, at long last, a murder mystery to be solved. Of that I can say no more without ruining the pic’s twists and turns. My advice to first-time viewers of Endless Night can be neatly summed up in two words: “be patient.” The twists are slow in coming, but do exist. The film’s script is a bit of a hodgepodge: roughly four-sixths a romance, one-sixth a mystery and one-sixth a psychological drama.

It was in late November of 1968 when it was announced that British Lion Films had acquired the rights to bring Endless Night to the big screen. The film was to be made in partnership with Launder-Gilliat Productions. Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat were well-established figures in Britain’s film industry. The two had met in 1937 and were presently in the thirty-first year of their successful partnership in the film business, joining the board of directors of British Lion in 1958. Endless Night was to be their first new film in three years and the two were planning to shoot at the moon. By the close of 1968, Gilliat was reportedly already working on his script for the film with his expectation of production commencing in autumn of 1969. In actuality, the project was pushed back several times, cameras not rolling on the film until 7 June 1971.

The two men weren’t too concerned over the many delays. In a September 1970 interview with London’s Guardian newspaper, it was reported the partners, “think they have a very cinematic script” for Endless Night. They bragged their script of minimal dialogue offered an, “interesting ambiguity of style, in the sense that you’re never quite sure whether what is said is really meant or really being said.” If this scripting description seems a bit obtuse to you, you’re not alone. To be fair, psychological thrillers – of which Endless Night is one - are difficult to satisfyingly script, disturbances of the working of the inner-mind easier to convey on page than on screen.

Endless Night would open in October 1972 to cool critical reception in the UK. Yorkshire’s Northern Echo described the pic as “a moody, albeit ill-fated romance.” But the newspaper also charged even faithful fans would need to acknowledge “Agatha Christie’s pen has run unaccountably dry in the movie version.” The Observer found the film “disappointing,” the film failing “to make the flesh stir, let alone creep.” The Observer critic was also one of many who found the film’s finale a confusing mess: “The post-preview reception gave rise to an unusual spectacle,” he wrote, adding. “Several puzzled critics surrounding the PROs, asking for the explanation of various loose-ends left dangling by reckless cutting.”

The Leicester Chronicle agreed. The finale of the detective-less mystery Endless Night was confusing, the film not constructed in the style of a traditional whodunit. The pic was castigated as “A prime example of the thriller addressed to boobies. For most of its length there is no murder and apparently no mystery.” The critic for the Evening Standard also commented on the film’s unorthodox structure and meandering pace. He complained the murder of one of the film’s main characters, “Doesn’t occur till three-quarters way through. Up to then you’re wondering irritably when things will get moving.” I agree. The film as a mystery per se is, to my taste, oddly non-involving.

The Evening Sentinel was one of the few major new outlets to boldly express “no reservations in recommending” the film. But even that praise came with a caveat. The most “tantalising” aspect of Endless Night in the view of the Sentinel critic was its murky, non-traditionalism. “You know there has to be a twist,” it was offered. “But you need a crystal ball to see it coming.”

Perhaps the harshest criticism came from the “Grand Dame of Whodunit” herself. In a retrospective interview with the Los Angeles Times, Christie shared her feelings regarding the cinematic adaptations of her works. “Everything I have seen which has been done for the cinema I disliked intensely,” she scoffed, the lone exception being Billy Wilder’s “very well” done Witness for the Prosecution (1957). Christie admitted she much preferred the stage dramatizations of her works as, “there is sort of a flattening out of things in film. I forget who filmed Endless Night, which is a book of mine, but I was very disappointed when I saw it as a film. It got flatter and less interesting every minute,” she would lament, echoing the sentiments of most film critics upon the pic’s release.

Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Titan Books:

Titan Books is thrilled to announce Caligula: The Official Story of the Film by Thomas Negovan, publishing September 30, 2025. The official retrospective for the controversial erotic historical drama Caligula (1979), written by Gore Vidal and directed by Tinto Brass.

Conceived by screenwriter Gore Vidal as a depiction of absolute power corrupting absolutely, Caligula depicts the ascent to emperor and subsequent reign of Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, nicknamed Caligula, one of the most notorious rulers of ancient Rome, in 37 A.D. Shot as an erotic historical drama by director Tinto Brass, the version released theatrically in 1979 was notoriously altered in post-production editing by producer - and Penthouse magazine publisher - Bob Guccione, who added hardcore sex scenes featuring Penthouse Pets that had been filmed separately. 

Written by Thomas Negovan, producer of Caligula: The Ultimate Cut (2023), Caligula: The Official Story of the Film traces the film’s history, from the original concept drafted by Roberto Rossellini, through the difficult production, cinematic release and resulting legal battles to have the film declared not obscene so it could be screened in mainstream cinemas. The story comes right up to date, covering the different international versions of the film released over the subsequent decades, and concluding with the 2023 Cannes screening and release of Caligula: The Ultimate Cut. Illustrated with stills from the original film and previously unreleased footage from the 2023 version, the book also includes unpublished behind-the-scenes photos of the shoot from the Penthouse archives.

About the Author: Thomas Negovan is an author, musician, filmmaker, and art historian, and the reconstructionist of Caligula: The Ultimate Cut. His Symbolist re-envisioning of the 1979 film premiered at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival, earned an honorable mention in LA Weekly’s “Best Films of 2024,” and has been praised by Malcolm McDowell as the epic version he had always hoped for. His short film, Aurora, was hailed by Grant Morrison as “haunting, eerie, and stylish.” Negovan’s book Le Pater: Alphonse Mucha’s Symbolist Masterpiece and the Lineage of Mysticism received acclaim from fantasy legend Michael Moorcock, who wrote an introduction praising it as “profound and beautiful...a source of beauty and intellectual inspiration.” Negovan lives and works in Chicago.

Val Kilmer has died from pneumonia. He was 65 years-old. The acclaimed actor was once a rising star and appeared in such hits as "Top Gun", "The Doors", "Batman Forever", "Heat", and "Tombstone". He was known for immersing himself in the characters he played and won praise from directors and critics alike. His talents were recognized at an early age, as evidenced by the fact he was admitted to study acting at the elite Julliard school in New York City. Unlike most screen actors who work their way up from bit parts in films, Kilmer had a starring role in his first movie, "Top Secret!" in 1984. The film was produced by the team who had brought "Airplane!" to the screen. Although the movie wasn't as a big of a hit, Kilmer scored by playing broad comedy as an over-the-top rock and roll singer based on Elvis Presley. In 1986, he co-starred with Tom Cruise in the blockbuster boxoffice hit "Top Gun" and  and a few years later, his performance as doomed rock star Jim Morrison in Oliver Stone's "The Doors" won him wide acclaim. In 1993, he was also praised his complex portrayal of the legendary Doc Holliday in the western "Tombstone".  His career was sidelined by a couple of factors. He had a reputation of being difficult to work with, causing director John Frankenheimer to observe that there were two certainties in his life: that he would not climb Mount Everest and he would not work with Val Kilmer again. Ultimately, the plum roles began to dissipate along with his boxoffice clout. In 2015, he was diagnosed with throat cancer, which he battled valiantly and very publicly. He let it be known that he very much wanted to appear with Cruise again in the 2022 sequel to "Top Gun" and his pleas were heeded. He and Cruise were reunited in the film, though Kilmer's was seen only briefly due to his health challenges. For more, click here. (Lee Pfeiffer)

A SHIPLOAD OF SCREAMS (AND LAUGHS)

By Mark Cerulli

Move over, Mickey, there’s a new mouse in town… Walt Disney’s charming Steamboat Willie short appeared on silent era screens in 1928, introducing one of entertainment’s most iconic characters – Mickey Mouse (and Minnie) – to the world. Ninety-Seven years later, Willie is public domain and filmmaker Steven LaMorte was quick to capitalize on the premise by turning it into a clever and gory horror film. (LaMorte also co-wrote the script with Matthew Garcia-Dunn.)

Cinema Retro was in the house as Screamboat premiered in Hollywood to very enthusiastic crowd that included many cast members and horror fans. A Staten Island native, LaMorte set his story on the world-famous ferry where a pair of clueless marine mechanics accidentally unleash a vicious mouse with an axe to grind. Sailing right into a foggy New York harbor, the creepy rust bucket is full of late-night passengers – from a tired restaurant hostess (Sarah Kopkin) to a hyper-obnoxious birthday girl (Kailey Hyman) and her content creating buddies (Savannah Whitten and Poonam Basu) plus every other commuter stereotype to be found in the middle of the night. The crazed mouse (David Howard Thornton, known for his work as “Art the Clown” in the Terrifier franchise) starts in the wheelhouse, then works his way through the ship, using a variety of maritime implements to inflict injuries and mayhem. Standing between it and the hapless passengers are the ferry’s motley crew lead by an everyman bro (Jesse Posey) and an exhausted EMT (Amy Schumacher). Teen Wolf sensation Tyler Posey rounds out the cast as the ferry company’s radio operator. A vein of dark humor runs throughout the film, including several nods to the original inspiration - like the killer mouse breaking into a Steamboat Willie-esque shuffle after dispatching a victim and several animated sequences evoking the spirit of the cartoon.

Maybe it was my two decades of commuting, but I embraced the vibe and setting immediately and enjoyed the film for what it was – a blue-collar romp that, like Titanic, took the audience on a wild ride throughout the ship. Of course, Titanic didn’t have a screwdriver to the eyeball or one of the most jaw-dropping dismembering scenes this commut-o-writer can remember. Disney execs might not be pleased, but horror fans will be.

Screamboat screams into Theaters April 2 from Iconic Events Releasing. The film is also available for streaming through these channels.

“LIKABLE ROGUES”

By Raymond Benson

Before Peter Sellers became well-known outside of Britain, the actor had made several motion pictures (The Ladykillers, The Mouse that Roared, etc.) in his home country. Two-Way Stretch, from 1960, in which he stars, represents the type of British comedy in which Sellers often appeared that was prevalent of the time. It’s almost an “Ealing Studios Comedy,” without being made by Ealing Studios. The Ealing films of the 1950s are a literal thing but in many ways the moniker also became a style of British comedy of the period.

Two-Way Stretch was directed by Robert Day, who was responsible for a terrific Alastair Sim vehicle, The Green Man (1956), and other British pictures of various genres leading up to perhaps his most well-known feature, She (1965). Stretch was written by John Warren and Len Heath and made by British Lion Films with a relatively low budget in glorious black and white.

The story concerns three convicts in a British prison—which is presented to be wonderfully lax in restrictions with prisoners enjoying all kinds of privileges. It’s easy to become mates with most of the guards and even the warden. Dodger (Sellers), The Dip (Bernard Cribbins), and Jelly (David Lodge) are likable rogues, cell mates, and friends with various contacts on the outside. Dodger’s lady, Ethel (Liz Fraser), is a hot number who often distracts the guards during visits so that other visitors can pass contraband to the prisoners. When Soapy (the wonderful Wilfred Hyde-White), a former partner in crime whose actions caused the three men’s incarceration, shows up dressed as a vicar, Dodger is suspicious. But Soapy convinces Dodger that there is a jewel heist scheme in the works that is foolproof—the only requirement is that Dodger, The Dip, and Jelly must escape from prison for a few hours, perform the heist, and sneak back in to the prison. In fact, the caper’s success depends on the boys returning to the slammer for reasons that would be spoilers here. Throwing a monkey wrench into the plan is the one guard who is a thorn in the side of the convicts, Officer “Sour” Crout (Lionel Jeffries), who plays everything by the book.

This enjoyable piece of whimsy is a fun ride for not-quite ninety minutes. Some of the dialogue is laugh-out-loud funny, and the caper itself is clever. The acting, especially, exhibits notable turns from Jeffries and Hyde-White. Oddly, Sellers is quite subdued here. He is often the more serious leader of the prisoners, keeping things in order, and staying on top of the shenanigans so that they don’t go wrong. He does display his considerable screen presence, but the laughs in Two-Way Stretch generally come from elsewhere.

Kino Lorber presents a nicely restored feature that looks quite good. An audio commentary by authors and comedy historians Gemma Ross and Robert Ross add interesting background and texture to the proceedings. The theatrical trailer (and other Kino trailers) is the only supplement.

Two-Way Stretch is for fans of Ealing-style British comedies, Peter Sellers, and such marvelous character actors as Wilfrid Hyde-White and Lionel Jeffries.

Click here to order from Amazon

Bruce Glover (R) with Putter Smith in "Diamonds are Forever". (Photo: Danjaq)

Actor Bruce Glover has died at age 92. His death was confirmed by his son, actor Crispin Glover, though no details were announced, according to Variety. Glover, who was born in Chicago, had an interest in performing since childhood. After being drafted into the U.S. Army at the end of the Korean War, he gravitated to Los Angeles and made a career of acting. He became a familiar face on T.V. and in motion pictures appearing in guest roles in popular series such as Perry Mason, Route 66, The Rat Patrol, Adam-12, Murder She Wrote, Bonanza, Gunsmoke, Mission:Impossible, The Six Million Dollar Man and The A-Team. Glover, who also taught acting in Los Angeles, also appeared in all three "Walking Tall" films as well as "Chinatown" and "Hard Times" and other feature films. His most memorable role was as Mr. Wint, the charming-but-murderous villain who menaced Sean Connery in the 1971 James Bond film "Diamonds are Forever". Glover was paired with musician Putter Smith, who played Wint's lover Mr. Kidd. The two made for a comical couple whose genteel dispositions masked their devotion to using exotic methods to kill their victims. For more about Bruce Glover, see the interview below from "James Bond Radio".(Lee Pfeiffer)

Here are American radio spot commercials for the 1970 epic "Waterloo" starring Rod Steiger and Christopher Plummer. 

Congratulations to Cinema Retro's own Raymond Benson whose latest literary venture returns him to the world of Ian Fleming and 007- with an intriguing twist. As you undoubtedly know, Raymond was one of the successors to Fleming, having written many official James Bond thrillers. Click here to read the official announcement from Ian Fleming Publications.

By Ernie Magnotta

In August of 1964, legendary writer Stan Lee and just as legendary artist Steve Ditko devised a new villain to do battle with their greatest creation, The Amazing Spider-Man. The villain’s name: Kraven the Hunter. Kraven, an expert trapper who sees the web-slinger as the most dangerous game and believes that, by defeating him he will become the greatest hunter who ever lived, first appeared in the Marvel comic book Amazing Spider-Man #15. The character was a hit with readers and Kraven quickly became a major foe of Spidey’s for decades to come. As part of Marvel/Sony’s trend of giving some of Spider-Man’s villains their own live-action blockbuster film (Madame Web, Morbius, Venom), Kraven’s epic movie was released this past December and was appropriately titled Kraven the Hunter.

Directed by J. C. Chandor and written by Art Marcum, Matt Holloway and Richard Wenk, Kraven tells the story of Sergei Kravinoff (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), son of cold-blooded drug trafficker Nikolai Kravinoff (Russell Crowe). After being seriously injured by saving his half-brother Dimitri (Fred Hechinger) from a lion attack, Sergei gains the physical abilities of an animal, refuses to take over his father’s empire and instead, uses his newfound powers to hunt criminals.

Although I read Marvel comics voraciously as a kid (and loved them all), I’m not going to pretend to be an expert on the Kraven character. I remember him appearing many times in the books, but I don’t think the movie follows the storyline of the comics. I could be wrong, though. It’s been over 40 years since I read a comic book, so the writers could have been inspired by a later Kraven story. No matter what the case is, Kraven the Hunter is not up to the standards it should be and that probably has to do with the studio tampering I’ve been hearing about. It somewhat suffers from clichés and I felt like the characters could have been fleshed out a bit more. Still, although far from perfect, I don’t think the movie is as bad as people have been saying. However, one wonders how this film would have turned out if the work of director Chandor and the writers were left alone.

Kraven has a group of wonderful actors, though. Aaron Taylor-Johnson is fine in the lead role. He just isn’t given enough to work with. The great Russell Crowe is also fun to watch while the talented Ariana Debose, Fred Hechinger, Alessandro Nivola and Christopher Abbott portray legendary Marvel villains Calypso, the Chameleon, the Rhino and the Foreigner, respectively.

Kraven the Hunter has been released on Blu-ray and the film is presented in its original 2.39:1 aspect ratio. For the most part, the audio is very good (except for the movie’s few bits of noticeable ADR). The same goes for the visuals (excluding the mediocre CGI sequences). The disc’s special features are as follows: “Deleted & Extended Scenes”, “Becoming Kraven”, “Beast Mode: The Stunts of the Hunt”, “Outtakes & Bloopers”, “Kraven’s First Hunt: The Direction”, and “Allies & Antagonists: The Killer Cast”. The Blu-ray also comes with a digital copy and a slipcover.

Click here to order from Amazon

Amazon has announced that two movie industry heavy hitters will be producing the next James Bond movie. Amy Pascal and David Heyman will oversee the production of the next film, though no start date or casting decisions have been announced. The last 007 blockbuster, "No Time to Die" was released in 2021 and was a major hit even though many of the world's movie theaters were still closed due to Covid. Longtime producers Barbara Broccoli and Michael G. Wilson still own half of the franchise but recently sold the creative rights to Amazon. That means that the decisions regarding the return of Bond to the big screen will be entirely decided by Amazon. Pascal and Heyman, two of the industry's most highly regarded producers, issued a statement indicating they are well aware of the responsibility they are taking on for guiding the legendary film series that began in 1962:

“James Bond is one of the most iconic characters in the history of cinema. We are humbled to follow in the footsteps of Barbara Broccoli and Michael Wilson who made so many extraordinary films and honored and excited to keep the spirit of Bond very much alive as he embarks on his next adventure.”

Click here for more. 

By John M. Whalen 

“What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his immortal soul?”

So it says in the Bible, but nowhere in world literature, or for that matter in world cinema, is that verse better or more painfully dramatized than in British filmmaker Michael Winterbottom’s “The Claim” (2000), now available in a special edition Blu-ray from Kino Lorber. The film is an adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s “The Mayor of Casterbridge” with the setting transposed from England to the snowy gold mining country of the Sierra Nevada in 1869. (Think “McCabe and Mrs. Miller). Scottish actor Peter Mullan (“Trainspotting” (1996), “My Name is Joe” (1998)), plays Daniel Dillon a man who singlehandedly built a town in the snowy wilderness called Kingdom Come. His word is law and everybody respects him. He’s well-liked and even those who face punishment at his hands willingly abide by it. As one townsman notes after a public scourging, “Most other town bosses would have put him to death.”

Dillon shares his world and his bed with Lucia (Milla Jovovich), a Portuguese singer who runs the local whorehouse. Their relationship is not completely based on money—at least not on Lucia’s side. For Dillion it’s a relationship based on a realistic assessment of the brutal, unforgiving world they live in.

The story opens on a day that is about to shatter the world Dillon has created, a day when a secret he has held for 20 years will become public. A caravan of travelers comes trudging through the snowy main street of Kingdom Come, bringing with it the seeds of Dillon’s demise. Two of the travelers are Elena Burn (Nastassja Kinski), a woman who is dying of Tuberculosis, and Hope (Sarah Polley), her lovely young daughter. Upon their arrival, Elena gives Hope a string of rosary beads and tells her to go and give it to Dillon, while she finds a place for them to stay. Elena goes to Dillon and gives him the rosary and he stands frozen in his tracks. Hope walks off to join her mother and Dillon cries out: “Hope? You’re Hope?”

Also in the newly arrived caravan of travelers is Donald Dalglish, (Wes Bentley) an engineer for the Central Pacific Railroad. He’s come to decide where the tracks will go for the new line. Will they go further down in the valley below or come through Kingdom Come? Dillon is banking on the tracks coming through town, which will bring him even more riches. Already he owns the town’s bank, in which rest hundreds of gold bars. Having a railroad stop in Kingdom Come would make him a very rich man.

And to think it all started with a small claim he bought 20 years ago. And therein lies the story. How he bought the claim and what he paid for it comes out in flashbacks and present day action that keeps you spellbound. Michael Winterbottom is a painstaking director, but he’s reluctant to reveal everything all at once. Characters come and go, we may not even know who they are, and little incidents of everyday life are shown, while the Big Thing is moving inexorably forward, unstoppable.

Mullan as Dillon is fascinating to watch as he devolves from a king-like figure, the master of all he surveys, to a hopelessly desperate man unable to stop the forces of time and evolution that will destroy him. Milla Jovovich is captivating as the Polish whore who sings a pretty good song and really loves Dillon for who he is and not how much gold he has. Nastassja Kinski gives a grim performance as the ill woman who brought Dillon the rosary, which Winterbottom uses as a key to unlock the door to all the mysteries of the past. And Sarah Polley as Hope is the living, flesh and blood symbol of the cruel naiveté of innocence. Finally, Wes Bentley as the railroad engineer is a younger version of Dillon, seemingly heroic, but perhaps as corruptible as Dillon in the end.

“The Claim” was filmed on location at Fortress Mountain, Alberta, Canada with some footage shot on the Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad in Colorado. There are two scenes in the film that are absolutely mind-blowing. One is of a horse on fire running across a snowy landscape. The other, reminiscent of Werner Herzog’s “Fitzcarraldo” (1982), shows a three-story octagonal house being pulled through a snowy forest by dozens of men, shot from a distance with only the gabled roof of the house visible above the tree line. All this natural splendor and brutal vitality was shot in 2.35:1 aspect ratio by award winning Cinematographer Alwin H. Kuchler (“Code 46,” “The Mauritainian”). The music score was composed and conducted by Michael Nyman, who has composed operas and film scores for Peter Greenway and Jane Campion (“The Piano”). Kino Lorber has also included an excellent audio commentary by writer and filmmaker Scout Trafoyo that is almost as dramatic and emotional as the film itself. The Blu-ray disc also includes a multi-channel soundtrack option for those of you so inclined and the theatrical trailer.

“The Claim” is a remarkable movie and the KL Blu-ray is a “must have” addition to anyone’s collection.

Click here to order from Amazon

By Hank Reineke

On May 18, 1953, Roger Corman was at breakfast reading through a copy of the morning edition of the Los Angeles Times. There, on the bottom left of the first page, was an article titled “Tiny One-Man Submarine Driven by Pedals Demonstrated at Avalon.” The report continued on pages two and three, the latter offering full-page photos of the so-called “Metal Fish.” (A reproduction of the page is featured in the twelve-page booklet accompanying Film Master’s “Newly Restored” Blu-ray Special Edition of Monster from the Ocean Floor). In the photos a pilot, equipped with an artificial lung and sea mask, was readying to navigate Aerojet General’s Mark III electrical-capable submersible bicycle prototype.

Intrigued by the mini-subs novelty, an impressed Corman telephoned an Aerojet executive. He explained he was an independent film producer planning to photograph underwater sequences for his next project. He wished to incorporate the submersible into his film but, of course, had no cash for a rental. As recounted in his memoir How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime, Corman suggested a deal. Should the exec allow usage of his, “one-man sub for free I’d give the firm publicity and a credit in the film.” In those simpler times, such an offer, apparently, was enticement enough.

There were a few obstacles. The first, and biggest, was that Corman had no script nor provisional underwater spectacle on his drawing board. In fact, Corman had only one film to his credit, for co-producing and selling his original story for $3,500 to the Allied Artists. Corman recalled being less-than-enthusiastic watching that pic, Highway Dragnet (1954), at a sneak preview event, certain his budding Hollywood career was now “destroyed.” He believed had he held some measure of control over the production of the film, the pic might have been “shot more efficiently.”

Things would be different next time. With free-use of the Mark III settled and in desire of acting as his own producer, Corman wrote an outline for a science-fiction opus titled It Stalked the Ocean Floor, hiring television writer, William “Bill” Danch, to write a screenplay from his treatment. Danch was offered “almost no money” up front but was promised “a piece of the profits” - should there be any. Corman estimated he’d need approximately $12,000 to produce the film, using the $3,500 he made from Highway Dragnet as seed money. Though his own parents refused to assist in financing his opus –they countered they’d already helped pay his way through Stanford for a degree in Industrial Engineering – Corman managed to cobble together an additional $6,500 from school friends.

Still two-thousand dollars short, Corman approached actor-writer Wyott Ordung to direct. Though Ordung already had two screenplays to his credit (Robot Monster (1953) and Combat Squad (1953), he desperately wanted to helm a feature film project. If Ordung agreed to invest two-thousand dollars of his own savings into Corman’s prospective film, he would be given the director’s chair. Ordung accepted. Well, that’s Corman’s memory of the fundraising, anyway. In the course of a 1984 interview with Fangoria, Ordung suggested it was he who, “raised the money” to produce the film at a cost of $39,000, “initial shooting” accounting for $19,000 of the total budget. Ordung also suggested Danch’s script for Corman’s sea monster opus was provisionally titled The Flaming Sea.

Regardless of how the money was actually raised, a workable budget was secured. In the coming weeks Corman created Palo Alto Productions: a $25 per month office space above Sunset Boulevard’s Cock ‘n’ Bull restaurant. His film was mostly produced under the radar of Hollywood, little notice given to the production in the trades. One of the few notices was a one-sentence mention in Variety, October of 1953, noting Ordung was to begin work on a film, now titled The Sea Demon.

The actual final budget of Monster from the Ocean Floor has long been debated. Corman suggested the pic’s production budget – minus post-production lab fees and music - was $12,000. Variety suggested the picture was produced on an investment of $15,000, with Roger’s brother, Gene, a film-industry agent, musing the film cost some $35,000 to bring it to the attention of distributors. If nothing else, Gene Corman’s financial figure somewhat coincides with Ordung’s remembrance of a $39,000 budget.

Roger Corman calculated the twelve thousand only figuring in “film, equipment rental, editing, music” and minimum-scale union salaries for the actors and technical crews. With the film’s production budget so threadbare, Corman knew the crew needed to shoot in a tight ratio of 1:3. That is, one-third of all exposed film needed to be seen on screen and not left on the cutting room floor. To achieve this, the production would require a brisk six-day shooting schedule with total oversight of Corman as producer.

To that end, Corman was the earliest to arrive on “set” – his “soundstage” being the beachside and waterborne locales of Santa Clara doubling as the Mexican coastline. The film, in fact, offers no interiors, save for a single scene photographed inside a boat’s cabin. Out of frugal necessity, Corman acted as the film’s key grip, unloading the majority of film equipment – cameras, lights, props etc. – so cameras could begin to roll immediately at sunrise without delay. Likewise, he was also the last to leave, dismantling everything once the day’s shooting had concluded. Corman was aware should he leave such tasks to a union film crew, overtime pay would be required… and that assuredly wasn’t going to happen.

There were further obstacles to hurdle following completion of principal photography. Corman required an additional $5,000 to pay for the processing of the black-and-white footage and to see delivery of the film’s final print. He was able to dodge this potentially crippling issue when the sympathetic, generous president of Consolidated Lab offered to complete work on the film on a deferred payment basis: Corman would speculatively pay all lab costs from the film’s post-release earnings. Ordung recalled sound editor Jack Milner as the true, unsung “hero” of the picture. The director reminisced the film’s sound recording speed was not properly synched to the footage shot, requiring Milner to “re-cut the sound word for word.”

There were at least three economic-minded distributors interested in purchasing rights to Monster from the Ocean Floor: execs at Realart, Herbert Yates at Republic and theatre-chain owner Robert Lippert. Gene Corman managed to negotiate a very decent distribution deal with Lippert, the businessman agreeing to pay $110,000 dollars for Monster as a “pick-up:” when a production company - such as Corman’s Palo Alto - is reimbursed by the distributor for production costs in trade for a percentage of a film’s total profit.

The savvy Corman brothers had negotiated with Lippert with a bit of card playing sleight of hand, intimating the production budget of Monster had been costlier than it actually was. Upon realizing he had been misled in regard to the film’s actual vs. $110,000 production cost, Lippert allegedly tried to downgrade and readjust his offer... which may have happened but, again, it’s not clear if the original contract between the two parties was honored or not. Corman acknowledged it was Lippert who suggested they change the film’s title from It Stalked the Ocean Floor (or The Sea Demon) to the more commercial Monster from the Ocean Floor. The distributor thought the word “stalked” was “a bit too literary.” Corman conceded this simple change in verbiage, “may have helped” the film’s earnings at the box office.

Upon its release Monster from the Ocean Floor was paired with a curious number of non-genre related properties, all Lippert-acquired: The Queen of Sheba, Heat Wave, The Desperado, The Cowboy and Long Wait were among the pic’s co-bills. Whether topping the bill or offered as a support feature, The Monster from the Ocean Floor was a modest box-office success. The tag lines for the great one-sheet poster designed for promotion promised, “A crawling bestial creature of the Atomic Age… Creeps from the depths of the Pacific to challenge the world!” or “Up from the Forbidden Depths Comes a Tidal Wave of Terror!” or “Terror Strikes...! From Beneath the Sea.” Such ballyhoo worked. By February 1956 – twenty-one months following the film’s premiere of May 1954 - Variety estimated Monster had already managed to rack a healthy domestic earning of some $185,000.

Though no one necessarily got rich from their share of Monster earnings, the creative team all profited in one manner or another. Lippert agreed to front Corman $50,000 to finance his next indie feature as producer, The Fast and the Furious (1954). Director Ordung would found his own indie production company, Valor Pictures. Coincident with the release of Monster, Ordung began to prep his own action drama The Sporting Life. That film, under the amended title of Walk the Dark Street (featuring Chuck Connors) would see release in 1956.

Screenwriter William Danch, who had once written dramatic and comedy scripts for such radio stars as Edgar Bergen, Bob Hope, Henry Fonda, Robert Young and Dorothy Lamour, left the U.S. for a year’s stint as a writer for Radio Free Europe. There he would work with Hungarian exiles to produce anti-Communist broadcasts for audiences behind the Iron Curtain. Lippert would subsequently enjoy a second bite at the apple when, by the close of 1960, Variety reported – much to the chagrin of his cinema operators – the savvy businessman “sold a total of 150 post-’48 films” to the National Telefilm Association for television broadcast.

Monster from the Ocean Floor offers a good dose of low-budget 1950s sci-fi. “The ocean can be dangerous, Julie, very dangerous,” warns Stanford-trained marine biologist Steve Dunning (Stuart Wade). He should well know: a few scenes earlier, Dunning’s one-man submersible had collided into Julie Blair (Anne Kimbell) as she swam peacefully in a cove off the Mexican coast. Then again, Julie was already warned of the danger present. In the film’s first scene, Julie learns from a Mexican child that a mysterious creature was haunting the waters.

“The sea makes much unhappiness,” the child tells her, lamenting his own father was killed by “a big devil” lurking beneath the cove’s waters. When Julie shares the boy’s story with Dunning, he shrugs it off as superstitious local nonsense. But being a do-gooder American guest in the region, Julie chooses not to dismiss the possibility of a sea monster lurking below. She routinely scuba dives to investigate the possibility herself.

Sure enough, Julie encounters an unusually large-size octopus with a single cyclopoid eye. She tells Dunning of her discovery and the two theorize that radiation leakage from the Bikini Atoll nuclear tests might have caused a mutation. In the meantime, an abalone diver, a burro in a straw hat, and a beloved dog have been pinched by the creature that absorbs victims. To make things worse, a superstitious old crone, Tula (Inez Palange) deputizes the otherwise recalcitrant Pablo (director Ordung) to sacrifice blond bombshell Julie to appease the monster. The film concludes dramatically with Julie struggling under sea against the slimy tentacles of The Monster from the Ocean Floor.

Cinema Retro has received the following press release:

Meetup Group:

Instagram: @toliveandletdieinla

Email: liveandlet007@gmail.com

"To Live and Let Die in LA" is a monthly meetup here in Los Angeles. We plan monthly events themed around the Bond lifestyle (cocktails, trivia, dinners, screenings, etc.). It's definitely growing, and the Bond community here in LA is having a great time with it. 

Screening Series:

This will be a bi-monthly regular screening series featuring a variety of Bond adventures throughout the year.  There will be a themed pre-show, as well as introductions. All the titles shown will be in 4K DCP format and the venue “The Culver Theater” will be selling themed drinks and martinis to boot. 

Tickets for the first three screenings are already available for purchase, and can be found at the links below:

Dr. No (March 25th 7pm)

The Living Daylights (May 27th 7pm)

Thunderball (July 29th 7pm)

Die Another Day (September 23^rd 7pm)

A View to a Kill (November 25^th 7pm)

If you have any further questions please contact "To Live and Let Die in LA" (liveandlet007@gmail.com) or visit "The Culver Theater" at:

Website: https://web.theculvertheater.com/

By Ernie Magnotta

The 1970s gave us a plethora of B-movies which showed nature rising up and attacking humans. Fun films such as Bug (1975), Grizzly (1976), Day of the Animals, Empire of the Ants and Kingdom of the Spiders (all 1977) flooded both 70s drive-ins and hardtop theaters. In addition to these creatures, bees seemed to get pretty pissed off and they appeared in the 70s Made-for-TV films; Killer Bees (1974) The Savage Bees (1976), as well as the theatrical works The Bees and the all-star disaster flick The Swarm (both 1978).

However, in 1973, there was one classic, but somewhat forgotten B-movie (pun intended) which featured our honey-making friends in a more unique way than just having the insects attack humanity. This film, titled Invasion of the Bee Girls, had a bit more imagination and, luckily for us, it has just been released on Blu-ray.

Solidly directed by Denis Sanders from a fun script my Nicholas Meyer (who disliked certain changes that were made to his screenplay), Invasion of the Bee Girls (aka Graveyard Tramps for its 1981 re-release) deals with government inspector Neil Agar (played by the late, great William Smith) who investigates a series of male deaths which, at first, seem to be from heart failure due to sexual exertion. Agar soon learns that a crazed scientist named Dr. Susan Harris (the lovely Anitra Ford) has created a bee serum mutated by radiation that transforms local women into monsters who mate with men before killing them. (Yes, I laughed out loud as I wrote that sentence.) Can Agar stop the doctor’s horrific plans or will he too succumb to the irresistible seduction of the bee girls?

Invasion of the Bee Girls is an enjoyable movie that moves along at a pretty brisk pace and, at 85 minutes, never overstays its welcome. It’s also filled with wonderful performances from a veteran cast. You may not recognize some of the talent by name, but trust me when I tell you that you’ll immediately recognize their faces. In addition to William Smith and Anitra Ford, we have terrific turns from Victoria Vetri, Cliff Osmond, Wright King, Katie Saylor, Beverly Powers, Anna Aries, Cliff Emmich and Jack Perkins.

The entertaining horror/sci-fi creature feature also benefits from cinematography by the legendary Gary Graver and a memorable music score from Emmy Award winner Charles Bernstein.

Kino Lorber has released Invasion of the Bee Girls on a region one Blu-ray in its original (1.85:1) aspect ratio. It is number 24 in their Kino Cult Series and this high definition transfer looks terrific. The disc also contains theatrical trailers, radio spots and an audio commentary by film historians Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson, as well as a collectible slipcover featuring the original poster artwork. Check it out. Buzz-buzz!

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(Photo: Paramount)

Cinema Retro's Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer was recently invited by Paramount Home Entertainment to discuss "Tommy Boy" with the film's director Peter Segal in conjunction with the release of the 30th anniversary 4K and Blu-ray editions, which are released on March 25.  

CR: I'm a big fan of Tommy Boy, so I'll just cut to the chase. How did the project come to you?

PS: I had worked with Chris Farley a couple of times before this movie. I did an HBO special with him and Tom Arnold. Then I did an episode of a show that we did for ABC called The Jackie Thomas Show. I knew that Chris was the funniest guy I'd ever met, and I thought, if ever I did get an opportunity to make a movie, that I would love to have it be with him. Soon thereafter, a script came to my desk called Billy the Third: A Midwestern, and it was the genesis of this project. (The film ultimately became Tommy Boy.- Ed.)

CR: Now, you had some real challenges. The script was being rewritten. You didn't have a finalized vision of the ending, apparently. You had a relatively low budget, and you had two leading men who were basically novices to the film business. How did you cope with all of that?

PS: [laughs] It was hard, but you know what, hearing you describe those ingredients, yes, you'd have to be nuts to take that on, but it was really about Chris. It was a challenging situation, with him splitting time with the SNL season because we took too long during the interim time between both seasons to work on the script. But it was just an opportunity to work with this guy who, like I said, I worked with a couple of times before and I just couldn't wait to try to figure something out with him.

CR: Did Chris and David Spade find it difficult to adapt from TV into feature film format?

PS: Yes, they both got a little annoyed with me, not that I did a lot of takes, but on Saturday Night Live, when you're in front of a live audience, you do one take, you have multiple cameras, and you're done. On Tommy Boy, it was three, four, five, six takes in one direction, now we're going to turn the camera around, three, four, five, six takes in that direction. They would get bored. They had to learn that that's what it was like making a movie. It also did sometimes give us some interesting moments that we wouldn't have had without their boredom. For example, Fat Guy in A Little Coat- in that scene Chris only spoke the words, and that was a bit that he would do in the Saturday Night Live offices, putting on people's coats and saying "Fat guy in a little coat, fat guy in a little coat." He got bored during the coverage of David, and he made it into a song. I didn't know this until my editor the next day said, "Oh my God, did you look at the dailies?" I said, "Well, I was there. I'm pretty sure I know what happened." He goes, "No, but you weren't paying attention to Chris. When he was off camera he was singing. You’ve got to go back reshoot it, turn the camera around, get him to sing the song." So we did. That was because of boredom and it led to something.

CR: Improvisation was encouraged on your side?

PS: Absolutely. It's always encouraged. The worst thing that can happen is it hits the cutting room floor, but I always want to try something.

CR: You said that, although Chris had these terrible habits that we know about later in his life, he behaved himself on the set. He was dedicated to making this film work.

PS: I think this was the best experience of his professional career because he was now a leading man. He was clean and sober during production and he was enjoying the work. After the success of Tommy Boy, there was a lot of pressure on him. He got offers right and left. He was caught up in making money instead of really waiting for the right project, and I think he was becoming frustrated with the way things were going.The fact that I look back on this experience and we're still talking about this movie 30 years later, it gives me a nice feeling in my heart because we're not celebrating something that was bad for his life. We're celebrating something that was really good for his life.

CR: That's a good way of looking at it. I wanted to ask you also about the contributions made by cinematographer Vic Kemper and editor Bill Kerr.

PS: Vic Kemper was a great cinematographer. We needed a strong hand because I knew that as much as I love to plan and storyboard everything, which I did for that movie, that things were going to be changing a lot, because, as we've discussed, there wasn't a complete script. You can't be a cinematographer and plan and do prep without a screenplay. Bill Kerr happens to be my best friend. This was his first major motion picture. It was, I would say, a blast working with him. Of course, it's a blast because it's always a blast working with your best friend. It was comforting working with him because he knew how hard it was for me to be away. At the time, I had two children and they were one and three. When they would visit on the set, they would've actually grown since the last visit, and I'd get really down. Being able to go to the edit room was almost like going to my therapist. I couldn't have done this without either of those guys.

CR: Also, David Newman's contribution. He delivered a wonderful score. You would not think of him associated with a comedy such as this, but it's a wonderful score.

PS: Thank you. David did a wonderful job. (Paramount CEO) Sherry Lansing originally thought that this was just going to be scored with a garage band. Then when she saw the first cut, she said, "That's not the movie I bought. This has a lot more heart. You scored it with James Newton Howard (who scored the comedy Dave-Ed.), and other big composers as temp tracks. I think we need to give you some more money. You need to get an orchestra now." We hired David, but he had only three weeks to put it together. You can recognize the movie Dave in here. I had a meeting with (that film’s director) Ivan Reitman a few years after Tommy Boy came out, and the first thing he said when I walked into his office was, "Nice score!"

[laughter]

PS: I could hear the similarities myself.

CR:. The film didn't perform spectacularly when it first opened, but its reputation really grew when it came out on home video. You were surprised to find out how well it sold.

PS: The movie did open (in theaters) at number one. We (ultimately) made $31 million domestically, because it wasn't even released internationally, and that was fine. It was successful, but where the movie's real success, as you were mentioning, was on home video, which at the time meant VHS. At the 10th anniversary, Paramount sent out crews all over the country to interview the cast and everything. They were doing quite a bit and I said, "Wow, this is a lot for the 10th anniversary of this movie. Why such a fuss?" They said, "Well, this is a top 10 seller for us." I said, "What does that mean? This year?" They said, "No, of all time." I said, "Wait a minute. You mean Paramount Pictures with Raiders of the Lost Ark and The Godfather… Top 10???" They go, "On VHS, yes." That's where this movie made its bones really.

CR: Many people consider the film to be a genuine comedy classic. What do you attribute that to, Peter? Why do you think it's resonated with so many people of different generations over so many years?

PS: I think because it has a sweetness to it. It's not just about the jokes. There's a softness to it that is also showing a different side of Chris Farley that I don't think he showed in any of his other movies. Just as Rebel Without a Cause was to James Dean, this movie is to Chris. He didn't get to make a lot of movies, and because this one is an original character, that meant a lot to him and his relationship with his father in real life. Also, his friendship, obviously, with David Spade, that comes through. I think it becomes the secret sauce. That’s why we're still talking about this movie.

(Special thanks to Sharon Ramirez and Deborah Thompson.)

Click here to order 4K/Blu-ray from Amazon

(Photo: Paramount/Cinema Retro Archives)

We all know that popular crooner Al Martino landed a key role in "The Godfather" as Johnny Fontane, a character who was clearly inspired by young Frank Sinatra. Suffice it to say, Sinatra was not pleased. Martino had no acting experience and was hired against the wishes of director Francis Ford Coppola, who argued that a seasoned actor should play the role of Fontane. However, producer Al Ruddy stuck with Martino. The web site Legsville.com features a "lost" 1991 interview with Martino that was conducted by writers Burt Kearns and Rafael Abramovitz (who has since passed away.) The interview was never published until Kearns came across the interview transcripts in 2022. Kearns published it on the Legsville site under his copyright. Martino spins some eye-popping tales regarding the behind-the-scenes friction on the film. Some are difficult to believe but that doesn't mean Martino's recollections are necessarily inaccurate. Click here to come to your own conclusion. (Lee Pfeiffer) 

(Cinema Retro covered the film in issue #26)

Here are some American radio spots for director Sam Peckinpah's controversial 1971 film "Straw Dogs". These spots provide audience responses to seeing the film. 

Now shipping worldwide!

By popular demand, Cinema Retro presents a special edition issue devoted to director John Sturges' 1960 Western classic, "The Magnificent Seven" starring Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, Eli Wallach, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, James Coburn, Horst Bucholz and Brad Dexter.

• Adapted from Brian Hannan's book "The Making of the Magnificent Seven" with an abundance of new material.
• Packed with rare production photos and scene stills.
  
• The comparisons between "The Magnificent Seven" and the film that inspired it, Kurosawa's "Seven Samurai".
• Foreword by Sir Christopher Frayling
• An abundance of rare international movie posters and marketing materials.
  
• Coverage of the film's big screen sequels.
  

NOTE: IF YOU LIVE IN SOUTHERN IRELAND, PLEASE USE THE "REST OF THE WORLD" ORDER OPTION.

Warner Bros. provides this clip from John Wayne's 1970 Western "Chisum" showing the Duke at his best.

Click here to order the Blu-ray from Amazon

By Hank Reineke

One month prior to unleashing his double-bill of The Killer Shrews with The Giant Gila Monster, Paris, Texas, born executive producer Gordon B. McLendon conceded to Variety, that he hadn’t “the vaguest idea of what I’m doing, but I’m trying to learn.” Both of McClendon’s sci-fi/horror efforts had been shot in around the Dallas area on shoestring budgets. Broadcasting magazine reported in early February 1959 that both of his independent Hollywood Pictures Corporation features were budgeted at $300,000 each. But tight shooting schedules and non-union labor allowed Shrews to cost as little as $123,000. Though the mounting of The Giant Gila Monster would require a modest additional investment for special effects work, production costs still only totaled $138,000.

The McLendon family certainly had the money to test entry into the film business. Gordon’s father, Barton R. McLendon, also an executive producer of Shrews, was a successful attorney who bought the Dallas based KLIF radio station in 1947. Due to its success in broadcasting major league baseball games and introducing pop music singles in a Top 40 radio format, over the next decade the McLendon’s would shepherd KLIF – from a one thousand kilowatt station to an FCC licensed fifty kilowatt station. The McLendon Corporation’s radio empire would continue to expand, soon boasting ownership of seven radio stations and hundreds of associated affiliates. Industry trades suggested the radio arm of the McLendon holdings would enjoy a capacity reach of some twenty million listeners.

The McClendon’s communication empire – partially funded by concurrent business-savvy investments in Texan real estate and oil production – also included, as per Broadcasting, Barton’s ownership “of his far-flung Tri-States Theatres, a Texas-Oklahoma-Louisiana chain he founded in the early thirties.” Barton’s son, Gordon, had become a radio celebrity in his own right as an announcer of sporting events. In 1951, The Sporting News would even award Gordon the title of “outstanding football broadcaster.” But B.R.’s son, seeking fresh economic opportunities, was interested in throwing his hat into the ring of regional film production. It was a prudent move: the McLendon’s not only had the money to invest in producing films, but they also held ownership of a chain of southwestern theatres to showcase their efforts.

Initially, Gordon wasn’t concerned about such trifling matters as film distribution. He told Variety his company might even act as their own distributor. He was confident that with free radio airplay and the use of their own theater chain, their films’ box-office would thrive in the southwest regional market. But Gordon sheepishly admitted his knowledge of film distribution across the U.S. and foreign markets was limited: he might still look for a distribution deal. “I’m not quite certain how to handle it. I’m waiting to see what will be offered,” he mused, but added, “Why should I give away 35%?” But following the double-feature’s Dallas opening, McLendon relented. He signed with Robert R. O’Donnell’s Empire Film Distribution to distribute the package across the breadth of Texas on a limited “states right’ basis. But by November of 1959, McLendon would strike a more geographically encompassing deal with Samuel Z. Arkoff and James H. Nicholson of American International Pictures to distribute the Shrews and Gila package nationwide.

The Killer Shrews (under the provisional title of The Attack of the Killer Shrews) was mostly shot at Dallas’s United National Film Corporation Studio, with production of The Giant Gila Monster to immediately follow. The crew of both films were to begin arriving in Dallas on January 3, 1959, with filming to commence at United on January 17. McClendon advised that his company was financing both productions at 100%. “There will be no sale of stock and we are paying to bring in Hollywood talent,” he confirmed.

The talent McLendon would bring to Dallas was not inconsequential. Ray Kellogg, a Hollywood regular whose primary resume was in the field of special effects photography, was brought on to direct both films. Though Kellogg boasted no professional on-screen “first chair” directing experience, he had previously served as an uncredited second unit director on two big budget pictures for 20^th Century Fox. The producer of The Killer Shrews was Ken Curtis, the son-in-law of director John Ford and actor recognizable for his many appearances in western films. Curtis had only recently worked with John Wayne and William Holden in John Ford’s U.S. civil war action film The Horse Soldiers (United Artists, 1959). Curtis had already pivoted to cast himself as an on-screen baddie in Shrews.

Ben Chapman, a production manager and occasional assistant director back in Hollywood, was brought on to make certain things ran smoothly and on schedule. The script (and original story) for The Killer Shrews came courtesy of novice screenwriter Jay Simms. Simms would also share writing credit on The Giant Gila Monster with director Kellogg. Simms would later carve a niche for himself in Hollywood as a dependable contributing writer on a staggering number of television crime and drama series of his era. In between TV assignments he also found the time to scribe screenplays for two cheapie sci-fi features: The Creation of the Humanoids (Emerson Film Enterprises, 1962) and Panic in Year Zero! (AIP, 1962).

As for on screen talent, McClendon’s films featured two particularly lovely ladies. Swedish blond Ingrid Goude, a former Miss Sweden and Miss Universe runner-up contender, was cast as Ann Craigis in The Killer Shrews. Brunette Lisa Simone, Miss France of 1957 and yet another Miss Universe candidate, was signed to play “Lisa” in The Giant Gila Monster. Goude would enjoy more screen-time and dialogue than Simone: the latter’s English was not up to par and the script gave her little to do. Neither actress would enjoy long careers in the film industry, both getting occasional bit parts, often uncredited. Lightning did not strike, and neither would receive a screen or television credit following the years 1961/1962.

To be fair, actor Don Sullivan’s career (“Chase Winstead” in Gila) wasn’t long lasting either: though he would achieve a measure of cult-figure status amongst fans of 1950’s low-budget sci-fi films. In 1959 alone, Sullivan would appear in four consecutive monster flicks: The Monster of Piedras Blancas, Curse of the Undead, Teenage Zombies and The Giant Gila Monster. The only actor cast who would go on to enjoy a long-standing career in the film and television industry was James Best (“Thorne Sherman” in The Killer Shrews). Best would attain a cult status of his own for his role as the bumbling Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane in television’s The Dukes of Hazzard.

It was a gamble for such Hollywood talents – either in front or behind the camera - to work on a regional production outside of union oversight. But Dallas was a long way from Hollywood. McLendon was aware his films simply could not be made on the skimpy budgets he allotted, expressing concern his enterprise might attract unwanted attention by labor groups. Nonetheless, he suggested it would be wise for the unions “to give us a chance to grow. The unions can stamp us out if they make the same manpower demands as are asked in Hollywood.” In any case, the McLendon’s extremely tight shooting schedules allowed the film’s artisans to be back in Tinseltown before most anyone noticed they were even missing.

The day of first shooting of The Killer Shrews was pushed to from January 17 to January 19, with shooting wrapping on January 30. The first week of production was mostly consigned to exterior shoots in and around the red dirt “bush country” of Lake Dallas, a forty-minute drive from downtown Dallas. The outdoor scenes were all in the can by January 20 – a lucky break as local weather events had not been accommodating, the Corpus Christi Times reporting the filmmaker’s exterior shoots were plagued by “bad weather… northerners and an ice storm.” Interior photography took place at United National with post-production work following, allotting a two-week gap between Shrews and Gila.

With The Killer Shrews in post-production, The Giant Gila Monster was slated to roll before the cameras on February 16, 1959. This film would be allotted an even tighter ten-day shooting schedule. All of the film’s interiors were to be shot at United National. The McLendon’s were nothing if not supremely confident in their film industry investment. “This is the first time a feature-length picture has ever been produced in Dallas as far as I know,” crowed McClendon. “Several attempts started big but wound up regrettably. What we are trying to do is make pictures in Dallas on a reasonable and very professional basis.”

The McLendon’s were optimistic of their prospects, and put their money where their mouth was. On February 1, 1959, it was reported that McLendon Corp. had purchased its very own movie studio on the grounds surrounding Lake Dallas, a 500,000 acre lot in nearby Denton. The purchase itself would require an additional $500,000 refurbishing effort and the building of a suitable second sound stage. It was reported that part of HPC’s second effort, The Giant Gila Monster would also be shot in and around the Lake Dallas area.

The scenario of The Giant Gila Monster would trade-on some of the familiar teenage-age-hot-rod-rock n’ roll- monster-movie totems. In most of these JD films, the primary teen (in the case of Gila, thirty- year old Don Sullivan playing one) would usually find himself in loggerheads with the small town police force. This is not the case in Gila as Sheriff Jeff (Fred Graham) and Sullivan are close friends. The Sheriff practically deputizes the “teen” and his Coca-Cola-in-a-bottle drinking friends to help investigate a strange string of disappearances and car wrecks in the area.

You're gonna need a bigger wallet! This year marks the 50th anniversary of Steven Spielberg's "Jaws". As you might imagine, there are plenty of celebratory events and products in the works to commemorate the occasion, ranging from a theatrical re-release to a new video set as well as a special vinyl album of John Williams' classic score. There will also be a slew of official collectibles. For more details, click here.

We are pleased to announce that Cinema Retro magazine has once again been nominated for Best Magazine by the Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Awards. (Rondo Hatton was the famed character actor who often played villains in "B" movies that are now cult favorites.) Although Cinema Retro differs from most of our worthy competitors because we are not strictly a horror-themed magazine, apparently we do cover the genre enough to impress the nominating group.

We also offer our congratulations to Cinema Retro contributors who were nominated. Photographer Mark Mawston was among the team members nominated for Best Graphics Art Presentation for the book "The Amazing Movie Posters of Thailand" and Paul Scrabo (along with Rich Scrivani) were nominated for Favorite Commentator for their work on the Imprint Blu-ray of "The Mummy's Tomb". 

You can click here to submit your votes. Thanks for your continued support.

Gene Hackman was a man who valued his privacy. While most celebrities fight to get in front of a camera, Hackman generally avoided publicity or interviews. In this December, 1972 segment from "The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson", Hackman appeared to promote his new film "The Poseidon Adventure" and tells some amusing anecdotes about working with Shelly Winters.

By Todd Garbarini

I have read many accounts about film directors who sought out specific actors or actresses to appear in their newest film project, only to find that the individual was extraordinarily difficult to work with. This can range from asking for their trailer to be lavished with loads of swag, to more seemingly ludicrous demands, including, but not limited to, having the cast and crew speak to them only through an intermediary, or refusing to act opposite certain co-stars.

Actor Marlon Brando notoriously gave director Francis Ford Coppola such a run for his money on the set of Apocalypse Now (1979) that one wonders why Mr. Coppola hired him in the first place. Having refused the Academy Award bestowed upon him in 1973 for the Best Actor role of Don Vito Corleone in Mr. Coppola’s The Godfather (1972), a film which brought Mr. Brando out of the cinematic doldrums and put Mr. Coppola on the map, Mr. Brando was not only paid three million dollars for three weeks’ worth of work, but failed to know his lines and never read the story upon which Apocalypse Now was based, forcing his director to scramble and improvise. This is nothing compared to the rumored indignities he lavished upon director Frank Oz on the set of The Score (2001) when he would only speak to him through Robert De Niro and engage in other outlandish behavior too ludicrous to recount here.

David Schmoeller, the director of one of my favorite thrillers, Tourist Trap (1979), found himself in a similar plight when he was contracted by producer Charles Band to write an original script based on his sold and unproduced screenplay called The Peeper. The idea was to fit the story into the remaining sets of ventilation ducts and corridors that were used for Mr. Band's just-completed outing, Troll. In an astute maneuver harkening back to Roger Corman’s maverick days of guerrilla filmmaking, Mr. Schmoeller fashioned a tale of a Josef Mengele-style Nazi doctor’s son named Karl Gunther, once a respectable physician who resorted to euthanasia of many hospital patients as a way of ending their suffering and is now possessed by a God complex. He ensnares attractive young women in his lair and slowly tortures them to death. The film’s title, Crawlspace, may sound familiar as it has been used numerous times by films made over the past fifty years. This movie, which was produced on sets in Italy during October and November of 1985 and released in Los Angeles on Friday, September 26, 1986, stars the inimitable Klaus Kinski, whose reputation as a difficult actor who was prone to bouts of uncontrollable rage and fury with the crew members.

Gunther is now the owner and super of an apartment building that he only rents to attractive young women. He has access to adjacent rooms through the crawlspace where he spies on them. Gunther is two-sided: congenial and pleasant to his future victims, but also ruthless and self-loathing over his desire to torture them. He plays a Deer Hunter-style of Russian Roulette with a single round in a six-chamber pistol that he presses to his forehead in the hopes of ending this tortuous existence. His latest tenant is Lori Bancroft (Talia Balsam), a young woman who inadvertently finds herself in a maze of booby traps set to prevent her from leaving the premises while in Gunther’s clutches, and her performance just is not up to snuff with the best scream queen contemporaries of the time, such as Jamie Lee Curtis, Heather Langenkamp, or Linnea Quigley. Carol Francis, who appeared opposite Tisa Farrow in James Toback’s Fingers (1978), appears in a silly role, and Tane McClure appears in a rape fantasy sex scene that recalls Deborah Burgess’s “attack” in Richard Ciupka’s Curtains (1983). Gunther is approached by the brother of one of his victims and dispatches with him in the only male-oriented murder in the film. The film runs a mere 80 minutes, but it is a great time capsule of a film that accurately depicts the mid-1980s through the hairstyles and wardrobe choices.

There is not much here in the way of suspense, certainly not on the order of the grimy terror that plagued the unwitting women in Tourist Trap. However, like that film, Crawlspace benefits from a Pino Donaggio-composed score.

Crawlspace made its home video debut on VHS and Beta in 1988 on Lightning Video. MGM released it on DVD in 2002 on a double feature with the 1980 Carrie Snodgress film The Attic. Scream Factory released a now out-of-print Blu-ray in 2013 with some extras. Kino Lorber has now secured the rights and has made the film available on Blu-ray with the following extras:

The first audio commentary is from director Schmoeller. It is ported over from the Scream Factory edition, and he discusses the origins of the film, the history of making it, the cast members involved and how difficult it was working with Mr. Kinski, including the efforts that were made to replace him, which ultimately failed.

The second audio commentary is new and exclusive to this Blu-ray and is worth the price of the purchase alone. Film historian John Harrison speaks eloquently and with a great deal of knowledge regarding the film and the cast members. He also references other works, including Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960). Even if you are not a fan of Crawlspace, I would recommend getting this Blu-ray just to listen to this commentary as it is a wonderful journey through cinematic knowledge.

Interview with Makeup FX Artist John Vulich runs 8:33 and is ported over from the Scream Factory edition wherein he confirms the unorthodox means necessary to placate and work with the film’s leading man.

Please Kill Mr. Kinski runs 9:05 and is ported over from the Scream Factory edition. It details the director’s frustrations working with Mr. Kinski. Alternately funny yet bewildering, it makes one wonder why anyone would hire the man.

Rounding out the extras are the requisite theatrical trailer and the television commercials for the film.

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Here's a vintage behind-the-scenes featurette on the making of the 1968 western "Guns for San Sebastian" which had Anthony Quinn squaring off against villain Charles Bronson in an underrated gem from the era. Click here to order Blu-ray from Amazon.

“CHAPLIN GETS SERIOUS”

By Raymond Benson

When the famous United Artists studio was formed in 1919 by D. W. Griffith, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and Charlie Chaplin, the organization was intended to showcase works by the four principles as well as other talents in Hollywood at the time. Chaplin then made his first feature film, The Kid, released in 1921. It was a huge success. For his next feature, however, Chaplin made the radical decision to produce and direct a serious drama in which he did not appear.

Because of his clout with the studio and in Hollywood, he was indulged. A Woman of Paris, a silent film released in 1923, was indeed a serious drama about class/societal differences. It starred Edna Purviance, a popular leading lady mostly known for the earlier comedy shorts in which she appeared with Chaplin himself. And, no, Chaplin, the “Little Tramp,” is nowhere to be seen… but wait! Isn’t that Chaplin walking on, almost unrecognizable and uncredited, as a train porter? Yes! But very few people at the time would have realized it.

A Woman of Paris often gets lost in discussions about Chaplin’s features. His comic masterpieces take up all the space. That said, A Woman of Paris should not be discounted. It is indeed a wonderful picture that broke new ground in the way realism was presented in the silent era. Upon its release, the movie garnered excellent reviews from critics, but audiences weren’t interested. If it was supposed to be a Chaplin movie, they wanted to see the Little Tramp and laugh. The film was more or less a failure.

Chaplin re-issued the film late in his life, in 1976, with a brand new orchestral score that he composed himself. He also deleted about eight minutes total from the picture to tighten it up. This re-release was re-evaluated and proclaimed just as much a masterpiece as his more well known comedies.

The story is relatively simple. The era in which it takes place is ambiguous, but it’s most certainly late 1800s or early 1900s in France. Marie St. Clair (Purviance) lives in a small village with her cruel stepfather. She and her lover, an artist named Jean (Carl Miller), plan to run away to the big city of Paris to elope, never to return. Jean’s parents, however, are also not the nicest in the world. Jean’s father wants his son to have nothing to do with Marie, as she is considered to be even of a lower class than his family. While enacting the couple’s plans to flee to Paris, an accident of circumstances prevents Jean from joining Marie at the train station (his father dies suddenly). Marie believes Jean has jilted her and goes on to Paris alone. A year later, Marie is enjoying Paris high society life as a courtesan. She is involved with a very wealthy cad, Pierre (Adolphe Menjou), who has no loyalty to Marie or anyone else. Fate intervenes, though, and Marie runs into Jean, now living alone in Paris as a painter. Their relationship is rekindled, but now, with Pierre in the picture, it’s a triangle of manners, social navigating, and betrayals. Marie finds herself on a path toward tragedy, of course, but the eventual outcome might surprise some.

In its brief 81 minutes, A Woman of Paris is captivating and always interesting for any audience who can meet a silent picture on its own terms. Most dramas of the period were performed in a somewhat exaggerated melodramatic fashion, but here the acting is extremely naturalistic. The characters on the screen behave like real people. This was unusual for 1923. Edna Purviance is fine in the lead role, but it is Adolphe Menjou, as the always-smiling heavy of the piece, who steals the picture. Chaplin’s direction of the proceedings is assured and never sentimental. One would have thought that the master of pathos (in his comedies) might have overlain a serious drama with too much of it. Here, pathos is practically non-existent, and that’s a good thing.

The Criterion Collection’s new Blu-ray release is a 4K digital restoration of the 1976 re-release version, and it looks marvelous. It features Chaplin’s gorgeous score, but there is also the option to play an alternate score, created in 2005, by Timothy Brock.

A new supplement is an insightful video essay by Chaplin biographer Jeffrey Vance. Other supplements are either ported over from the old MK2 DVD (“Chaplin Today: A Woman of Paris” featurette with appearances by Liv Ullmann and Michael Powell; deleted scenes; and archival footage) and other vintage pieces, one in French with English subtitles and an audio interview with cinematographer Roland Totheroh. There are trailers and, in the packaging, an essay by critic Pamela Hutchinson and notes on the Brock score by the composer.

For fans of Charles Chaplin, silent film dramas, and Hollywood history. Recommended.

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THREE CLASSIC CLINT EASTWOOD FAVORITES

COMING TO 4K ULTRA HD ON APRIL 29

DIRTY HARRY, THE OUTLAW JOSEY WALES AND PALE RIDER

WILL BE AVAILABLE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 4K RESOLUTION WITH

HIGH DYNAMIC RANGE (HDR)

Cinema Retro has received the following press release from Warner Bros. Discovery Home Entertainment 

Burbank, Calif., March 5, 2025– Three films from legendary filmmaker Clint Eastwood – Dirty Harry, The Outlaw Josey Wales and Pale Rider (40th anniversary), will be released for the first time on 4K Ultra HD and Digital on April 29.

2021 marked the 50th year of Clint Eastwood’s partnership with Warner Bros., which began in 1971 with the release of Dirty Harry. Over the course of his remarkable career, Eastwood, a 4-time Academy Award winner, has received a number of lifetime and career achievement honors, including the Motion Picture Academy’s Irving Thalberg Memorial Award and the Hollywood Foreign Press Association’s Cecil B. DeMille Award.  He has also garnered tributes from the Directors Guild of America, the Producers Guild of America, the Screen Actors Guild, the American Film Institute, the Film Society of Lincoln Center, the French Film Society, the National Board of Review, and the Henry Mancini Institute.  He is also the recipient of a Kennedy Center Honor, the California Governor’s Award for the Arts, and France’s Commandeur de la Legion d’honneur.

About the films:

DIRTY HARRY - 1971

Academy Award winner Clint Eastwood stars as no-holds-barred San Francisco cop Dirty Harry Callahan in this action thriller that began an action franchise. When detective Harry Callahan is assigned to pay extortion money to a serial murderer, the payoff goes wrong. Now with the life of a 14-year-old girl at stake, Callahan refuses to allow anything--including the law--to keep him from stopping the killer.

The film is directed by Don Siegel. The screenplay is by Harry Julian Fink, R.M. Fink, and Dean Riesner from a story by Harry Julian Fink and R.M. Fink.  The film is produced by Don Siegel.  Dirty Harry stars Clint Eastwood, Andy Robinson, Harry Guardino, Reni Santoni, and John Vernon.

Dirty Harry was selected in 2008 by Empire as one of The 500 Greatest Movies of All Time. The film was ranked No. 41 on the American Film Institute’s 100 Years ... 100 Thrills, a list of America's most heart-pounding movies, and Harry Callahan was selected as the 17th greatest movie hero on 100 Years ... 100 Heroes & Villains. The movie's famous quote "You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?" was ranked 51st on 100 Years ... 100 Movie Quotes.

In February 2025, the 4K remaster of the film premiered at the Berlinale Film Festival as part of the Berlinale Classics program which showcases digitally restored film classics.

Dirty Harry 4K UHD contains the following new and previously released special features:  

Commentary by Richard Schickel

“Generations and Dirty Harry” - NEW

Lensing Justice: The Cinematography of Dirty Harry - NEW

American Masters Career Retrospective: “Clint Eastwood: Out of the Shadows”

“Clint Eastwood: The Man from Malpaso”

“Clint Eastwood: A Cinematic Legacy – Fighting for Justice”

Interview Gallery: Patricia Clarkson, Joel Cox, Clint Eastwood, Hal Holbrook, Evan Kim, John Milius, Ted Post, Andy Robinson’ Arnold Schwarzenegger, Robert Urich.

“Dirty Harry’s Way”

“Dirty Harry: The Original”

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THE OUTLAW JOSEY WALES - 1976

Academy Award winner Clint Eastwood stars in and directs this fast-paced Western about the fight for vengeance by a Missouri farmer whose family is murdered in the last days of the United States' Civil War.

The film is directed by Clint Eastwood. The screenplay is by Phil Kaufman and Sonia Chernus and is based on the novel “Gone to Texas” by Forrest Carter. The film is produced by Robert Daly.  The Outlaw Josey Wales stars Clint Eastwood, Chief Dan George, Sondra Locke, Bill McKinney, and John Vernon.

The Outlaw Josey Wales was nominated for the Academy Award for Original Music Score. In 1996, it was deemed "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the United States Library of Congress and selected for preservation in the National Film Registry.

The Outlaw Josey Wales 4K UHD contains the following new and previously released special features:  

Commentary by Richard Schickel

“An Outlaw and an Antihero” - NEW

“The Cinematography of and Outlaw: Crafting Josie Wales” - NEW

“Clint Eastwood’s West”

“Eastwood in Action”

“Hell Hath No Fury: The Making of The Outlaw Josey Wales”

“Clint Eastwood: A Cinematic Legacy – Reinventing the West”

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PALE RIDER - 1985

With 1985's Pale Rider, Clint Eastwood returned to the western genre with a vengeance as the movie became the highest grossing western of that decade. Eastwood, who also directed the hit film, plays a nameless stranger who rides into a small California gold rush town (and becomes known as the "Preacher") where he finds himself in the middle of a feud between a mining syndicate and a group of independent prospectors.

The film is produced and directed by Clint Eastwood and written by Michael Butler and Dennis Shryack.  The film stars Clint Eastwood, Michael Moriarty, Carrie Snodgress, Christopher Penn, Richard Dysart, Sydney Penny, Richard Kiel, Doug McGrath, and John Russell.

Pale Rider 4K UHD contains the following new and previously released special features:  

“The Diary of Sydney Penny: Lessons from the Set” - NEW

“Painting the Preacher: Bruce Surtees and Pale Rider” - NEW

“Clint Eastwood: A Cinematic Legacy – Reinventing Westerns”

“Eastwood Directs: The Untold Story”

“The Eastwood Factor”

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By Doug Oswald

The WWII exploits of George Tweed who evaded capture by the Japanese on the island of Guam are portrayed in“No Man ss an Island”, available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber. The movie opens at the U.S. Navy communications station on Guam prior to the island invasion by the Japanese. The Japanese quickly sweep through Guam and the remaining Americans surrender. Tweed, portrayed by Jeffery Hunter, assumes command of the men at the station after their Chief is killed during an air strike.

On the run, Tweed and the other men are aided by various Guam natives who hide them, feed them and help them evade capture by the Japanese who have put out a bounty for their capture. Soon, Tweed is the only one left alive after the other men are shot and beheaded and he finds refuge at a leper colony. There he starts typing a resistance newsletter based on information he gets from American radio broadcasts. The newsletter gets into the hands of a Guam official collaborating with the Japanese and they trace the newsletter to the leper colony which the Japanese destroy.

Tweed then finds himself in the hands of a local farmer and his family who hide him atop a nearby hilltop overlooking the bay, the entrance of which is hidden by thick bushes and trees. The family helps Tweed by bringing him food and supplies. Tweed builds a mirrored semaphore device out of an empty tin container, and he uses it to signal an offshore American Naval vessel which soon rescues him.

Based on the 1945 book "Robinson Crusoe, USN," the real life Tweed hid from the Japanese on Guam for two years and seven months before being rescued just prior to the second Battle of Guam in October 1944. He was helped by many local people in Guam, being moved to several different locations until his rescue. Tweed was a married man with a family (they were evacuated from Guam in October 1941 along with other U.S. nationals), but you wouldn’t know that watching this film which introduces a romantic sub-plot. The film takes other liberties with the story as well due to time that make it feel feel as though he was on the run for a shorter period of time.

Jeffrey Hunter does a fine job as Tweed and carries himself well in a uniform and as an experienced military man. He served in the U.S. Navy from May 1945 to May 1946 and was medically discharged. Prior to this film, Hunter played a Canadian sailor serving in the British Navy who gets stranded on an island fighting the Germans in "Sailor of the King" in 1953. He was a U.S. Army Calvary soldier in “Sergeant Rutledge” in 1960 and a U.S. Marine in “Hell to Eternity” also from 1960. In 1962 he had a memorable role as Sergeant John Fuller in the star-studded “The Longest Day.” Hunter was a versatile actor going from movies to television and played Captain Christopher Pike in the pilot episode of “Star Trek” in 1966. He was being groomed to become a big star and featured in some of the biggest films of the 1950s and 1960s including playing John Wayne’s sidekick, Martin Pawley, in the 1956 classic western “The Searchers;” and Jesus in the big screen religious epic, “King of Kings” in 1961. His Hollywood career took a downturn in the mid-Sixties, and he went to Europe, but with little success. He was injured while working on a film in Spain in November 1968 where he suffered a serious concussion in an on-set explosion. He developed a brain hemorrhage and skull fracture after falling down steps and hitting his head at home on 26 May 1969. Doctors performed brain surgery, and he died the next day. He was only 42 years-old.

Hunter is joined in the film by Marshall Thompson as fellow radioman John Sonnenberg. Many supporting players from the Philippine film industry also appear in the film which was filmed on location in the Philippines. Barbara Perez plays “Joe” Cruz, the daughter of the local farmer who helps Tweed hide from the Japanese. Perez gets an “Introducing Barbara Pere courtesy of Sampaguita Pictures, Philippines” credit in what appears to be her only appearance in a Hollywood production. She appeared in dozens of Philippine films before and after “No Man is an Island” and was dubbed the Audrey Hepburn of the Philippines during publicity for the film. The cast of mostly Philippine actors played both the people of Guam and the Japanese soldiers.

Financed by Gold Coast Productions and released by Universal in September 1962, the film was written, directed and produced by Richard Goldstone and John Monks, Jr. They each use their signature in the opening credits in what is essentially their sole collaboration as writer, director and producer. While the film veers from the true life events, it’s still a very watchable and entertaining movie and Hunter does a very good job carrying the bulk of the film.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray has a very nice audio commentary by Steve Mitchell and Steven Jay Rubin which offer both historical context on the real-life George Tweed during the Japanese occupation of Guam and on the film production and star Jeffrey Hunter. The disc also contains trailers for this and seven other Kino Lorber releases. The movie is highly recommended for fans of Jeffrey Hunter and WWII movies.

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By Hank Reineke

The ever-crowding field of horror film scholarship lost a very important contributor when author David J. Skal was killed, New Year’s Day 2024, in an automobile collision. According to his literary agent, Skal, riding in the passenger seat of his partner’s automobile, was killed when a car traveling opposite crossed the median. Mr. Skal’s long-time partner, Robert Postawko, briefly survived the terrible crash, but he too would succumb due to injuries sustained

On 18 February 2025, University of Minnesota Press published a revised edition of Skal and Elias Savada’s Dark Carnival: the Secret World of Tod Browning – Hollywood’s Master of the Macabre. This new edition, already well-into-the-works prior to Skal’s tragic passing, promised the “extensive use of Browning’s personal scrapbooks and photographic archives.” Such rare material had been unavailable to the authors at the time of the book’s original 1995 publication.

This amended version of Dark Carnival will likely serve as the final major project of David J. Skal, the Publisher’s Foreword noting the author had, “tragically passed away during the final weeks of this edition’s production.” As a film historian Skal certainly has left behind a legacy. During a career of forty-odd years, he had served as an essayist, contributor, editor, short-story writer, novelist of both fiction and non-fiction works, and film and television documentarian. One of Skal’s most recent projects was his contributing audio commentaries to Criterion’s Blu- ray set of “Tod Browning’s Sideshow Shockers: Freaks (1932), The Unknown (1927) and The Mystic (1925). That glorious release of silent film classics was released in October of 2023, only a few months prior to Skal’s passing.

If anyone was best- suited in providing Criterion with expert commentaries re: the career of Tod (“The Edgar Allan Poe of Cinema”) Browning, it was certainly Skal. In 1995, Anchor Books/Doubleday first published Dark Carnival, a seminal study of Browning’s melancholic life and his thematically dark and unsettling oeuvre. A self-professed “monster kid,” Dark Carnival was not the first of Skal’s book-length works to study horror-film history and the genre’s cultural impact.

In the five years preceding Dark Carnival, Skal had published such other non-fiction studies as Hollywood Gothic: The Tangled Web of Dracula from Novel to Stage to Screen (W.W. Norton & Co., New York 1990) and The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror (W.W. Norton & Co., 1993). The latter title remains, perhaps, his best known work. Shortly following the original publication of Dark Carnival, Skal published the less academic, more pop-culture friendly encyclopedia, V is for Vampire: the A-Z Guide to Everything Undead (Plume, 1996). The author’s primary interests, as one might guess, tended to all things macabre.

Prior to Dark Carnival, Tod Browning remained one of the most elusive figures of early cinema studies. Browning was something of a polarizing character amongst critics and peers alike: some thought him “an unassailable auteur of cinematic darkness,” others belittled his work as that of a hack. Some thought of Browning as a “kindly and generous person,” others saw him as an “obsessively private” person of “nasty disposition,” a “classic Hollywood son of a bitch with a morbid streak a mile wide.” Celebrated by one circle of cineaste admirers, others derided his directorial legacy as a miasma of recycled storylines, exploitational tropes and relationship dysfunction. In the book’s prologue, the authors suggest they found the writing of Browning’s biography as most challenging when attempting to sort out historical fact from fiction. Their research was further hindered as the curmudgeonly Browning chose to leave “the world no reminisces, no diaries, no official recounts of his career, affecting an indifference to the film medium that approached outright contempt.” He was, from the very beginning, an outcast.

Dark Carnival mixes straight biography and film criticism in equal measure. Born Charles Alpert (“Tod”) Browning in Louisville, Kentucky, 12 July 1880 – or, perhaps, as early as 1874. Even his correct birthdate was obfuscated, Browning’s personal account differing from the official record. As a young man Browning wasn’t particularly religious in belief, though he did cultivate a lifelong obsession with baseball, alcohol and – especially - show business. Browning was particularly interested in performing as ringmaster. As a child he would put on penny admission shows in a shed behind his family home.

Uninterested in a life tending horses or working for the railroad, Browning was fascinated by the exotic pageantry to which he was introduced in and around Louisville. He was especially taken by the annual Mardi Gras-style atmosphere of the Satellites of Mercury Parade, of the colorful, roving gypsy encampments he encountered outside of the newly christened Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs, of the raucous entertainments offered in the vaudeville playhouses and burlesque theatres aligning the city’s “raffish” riverfront.

When, at age nine in 1890, a devastating tornado swept through Louisville, Browning was witness to the terrible structural and human wreckage left in the storm’s wake. It may have been a result of this experience that Browning became haunted, perhaps obsessed, by the sight of the maimed, crippled human bodies that littered the streets of his hometown. Browning would marry Amy Louis Stevens in March of 1906, but as he had a roguish “roving eye,” he abandoned his first wife in the summer of 1909, having “not contributed anything towards her support or maintenance.”

The truth was his true real love was show business. Oddly, Browning became obsessed with those whom many saw as the lowest-rung practitioners of show business: carnival folk and their peripatetic gypsy troupes. His people were the barkers of ballyhoo, the sideshow freaks, geeks, midgets, sword swallowers, snake handlers, fire eaters, contortionists and “wild men” from parts unknown. Those of higher station status saw such performers as migratory panhandlers: alcoholics, swindlers and grifters, all scuffling for the pennies and nickels of gullible gentile audiences. The symbiotic relationship between the two disparate groups was transactional: the book alleges that, “The carny ethos divided the world into two rigid camps: show people and everyone else – “suckers,” marks,” and “rubes.”

Browning would throw his lot in with the former. He did a spell as a carny, allowing himself to be buried alive nightly as a so-called “Hypnotic Living Corpse.” He later graduated from carny life to the stages of vaudeville and burlesque houses. There he worked alongside magicians and illusionists, carefully studying the deceptive tricks-of-the-trade of the psychic-mesmerists. A chance meeting in 1913 with D.W. Griffith gave Browning the opportunity to travel to Los Angeles and act in no fewer than fifty one-reel comedies circa 1913-1915. In 1915 he ambitiously moved to the director’s chair. Browning would helm a number of one or two reel silent melodramas as director, many of these early storylines reworked and revisited later in his career.

His alcoholism was becoming more obvious. One raucous “roadhouse revel” led to a terrible collision of his car with a railroad flatbed. The collision fractured Browning’s leg and caused him serious internal injury and the loss of most of his teeth. Tragically, the unfortunate passenger in Browning’s vehicle was killed instantly, the impact so violent that imprints of the flatbed’s iron rails were found pressed into the victim’s skull. The authors note that none of Browning’s colleagues interviewed could recollect him ever talking about the incident, much less offering any “”feelings of responsibility” or complicity in the death of his friend.

Following a period of convalescence, Browning returned to directing silent pics for Metro. In 1918, Browning came to the attention of Irving G. Thalberg, then with Universal. Signing with Universal, Browning helmed a number of five and six reelers for the company, two of which featured one of their big silent stars, the actress Priscilla Dean. Those two films, The Wicked Darling (1919) and Outside the Law (1920), would introduce Browning to their otherwise unheralded co-star, Lon Chaney.

Though Browning would freelance on productions of several other film companies, both he and Chaney would follow Thalberg in the latter’s defection to MGM. It was during this period with MGM that Browning’s melodramatic, envelope-pushing cycle of silent films – all made in collaboration with Chaney - that solidified his reputation as a bankable director of merit: The Unholy Three (1925), The Blackbird (1926), The Road to Mandalay (1926), The Unknown (1927), London after Midnight (1927), The Big City (1928), West of Zanzibar (1928) and Where East is East (1929). When sound film production became the norm, things changed.

The authors of Dark Carnival remind, “Neither Browning nor Chaney was comfortable with the prospect of a talking screen: their art, after all, was firmly rooted in the tradition of pantomime.” Indeed, Chaney would appear in only one sound film prior to his passing in August 1930, Jack Conway’s talking version of The Unholy Three. Robbed of his primary collaborator, Browning would direct his first sound production for MGM, The Thirteenth Chair (1929), before signing a contract with Universal to remake his own Outside the Law (1930), Edward G. Robinson now cast in the role Chaney played a decade earlier.

While working on The Thirteenth Chair, Browning made the odd decision to cast a “perversely inappropriate” actor, Bela Lugosi, as a police inspector of mysterious personage. The authors suggest Lugosi’s against-type casting – abetted by the actor’s uber-melodramatic performance and lugubrious speaking voice – was intentional. Browning had been “colluding with the actor” to get Universal to consider the offer “of a screen test for the film version of Dracula.” If this was the case, their gambit was successful. Lugosi would claim the title role and Browning would secure the director’s chair. Universal’s production of Dracula (1931) would, for all of its staginess, missed opportunities and long silences – prove Browning’s greatest success.

In contrast, Browning’s follow-up to Dracula, Iron Man, was a too-talkie and too stagey melodramatic photoplay that, similarly to the sound version of Outside the Law, opened to mixed reviews. Still confident in his talent, MGM would lure Browning back into the fold with a generous fifty-thousand dollar salary and three picture commitment. As further inducement, the studio offered Browning an additional 50K “adjustment check” for a trio of previous MGM pics Browning had done considerable advance work on – projects that had sadly fallen to the wayside due to Chaney’s illness. It was a speculative investment in Browning’s career the studio would come to regret.

The film Browning would choose to lens on his return to MGM was the notorious Freaks (1932). This pre-code film, in which a troupe of carnival “freaks” and human oddities avenge the cruel manipulation and murder plot against one of their own, retains the ability to shock even in 2025. The book’s chapter (“Offend One and You Offend Them All”) concerning the production – as well as the subsequent public and critical outrage following the release - of Freaks, is revelatory and fascinating, a compelling historical read-through.

Though Browning would go on to direct four more pictures in the wake of the controversies kicked up by Freaks, the stinging criticism to his grim melodrama signaled the beginning of the end of his career as director. Two of his remaining four pics, Mark of the Vampire (1935, a sound remake of his own London after Midnight) and The Devil Doll (1936) are passably interesting mystery-horror mellers, though both would underperform at the box office. The other two, Fast Workers (1933) and Miracles for Sale (1939) were efficient if unremarkable comedies. Unfortunately, and more damnably, these latter two pics had, similarly to Freaks, not only performed below expectation, but were outright money losers for MGM.

Though Browning continued to pitch ideas to MGM for future projects, his proposals were shunted aside or rejected outright. In time, Browning saw the writing on the wall: he had, in his own estimation, been “blackballed” from the film industry. He would “officially” retire in January of 1941, quietly retreating to his cottage in Malibu with his second wife, Alice (nee Wilson). Married in 1917, Alice would remain at her husband’s side (with periodic separations) despite Browning’s indiscretions – including a scandalous “drunken dalliance” with the under-age actress Anna May Wong. Following Alice’s passing in 1944, Browning became a virtual recluse – a brooding, gloomy melancholic with few close friendships.

Browning would spend his final years in near-isolation, drinking prodigious amounts of bottled beer and spending his days and insomniac nights watching baseball games and black-and-white movies on television. Prior to his death in October 1962, he demanded that no memorial or viewing be staged to commemorate his passing. Only a drinking-buddy – a house painter known only as “Lucky” – was allowed to visit his corpse and proffer one last post-mortem toast.

Browning’s biography is, to say the least, a unique one. Having lived a life nearly as haunted and troubled as his cinematic melodramas, I’m guessing it is unlikely that Browning’s story will ever be told better than here in the pages of Dark Carnival. The greatest platitude I can ascribe to Skal and Savada’s masterful study is that it rekindles genuine interest in the director’s filmography. The book ignites a desire to seek out as many of Browning’s extant films as one can source. The best books regarding cinema studies are those that leave readers curious to visit or revisit old film titles, either famous or forgotten. A superbly researched and elegantly written study, Dark Carnival is, without question, one such book.

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By Mark Edlitz

As a longtime reader of Cinema Retro myself, it's a privilege to share with my fellow readers some insights into my book, Movies Go Fourth: 4th Films in Fantastic Franchises. As the title suggests, the book focuses on the fourth film in the most beloved film series of all time. As such, I cover superhero films (Superman IV: The Quest for Peace and Batman & Robin), sci-films (Star Wars 4 and Star Trek IV), horror (Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, Jaws 4, Psycho 4), comedy (Meatballs 4, Police Academy 4), and action (Die Hard 4, the fourth Dirty Harry film, Sudden Impact). I also write about re-edited fourth films (Rocky 4) and unmade fourths (Godfather IV and Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 4).

Why write a book about fourth movies in popular franchises? It’s a question that comes up quite a bit. Granted, it’s a strange topic for a book and even the premise requires a little explanation. Even my interview subjects would gently tease me about the subject. When I asked my youngest child if anyone was going to be interested enough to buy the book, they jibed, “What are you thinking? It’s not even about trilogies.” Point taken. There’s something about a fourth film that screams “cash grab” or, even worse, “bad movie.”

Trilogies used to signal that the franchise had entered popular culture and that it was deserving of three installments. Trilogies can also be considered the ideal form of storytelling, with a beginning, middle, and end. Each film represents one part of a three-act structure. The original Star Wars trilogy best exemplifies my point.

Given that, what happens when the trilogy is over and either the filmmakers or the studio wants to continue the series? What are the artistic and practical challenges they face? What happens when art and commerce come into conflict? What happens when the characters or stories lend themselves to additional entries? To find out the answer to these questions and many others, I decided to interview the filmmakers themselves.

Among other things, I learned that certain professions of the heroes naturally lend themselves to multiple movies. A homicide detective or private investigator can always catch another case. A spy can always be sent on another mission. Thus, the multiple Dirty Harry, Sherlock Holmes, and James Bond movies. There are decidedly fewer sequels about lawyers; thus no Verdict 2: Overruled.

Sometimes the nature of a character changes by their appearance in sequels. For instance, in the first Alien and Die Hard films, both Ellen Ripley and John McClane were set up as Average Joes who encounter an outsized adversary. But in subsequent features, they metaphorize into something closer to superhuman. In the fourth Alien flick, Ellen Ripley has now been cloned and possesses super strength. By the fourth Die Hard film, McClane is jumping off harrier jets. Before filming on the fourth Die Hard commenced, Bruce Willis saw that the characters’ core was drifting, and he enlisted his

Hostage screenwriter, Doug Richardson, to bring the series back to basics. Richardson had bold ideas on how to improve the film and make it much tougher. In one proposed scene, McClane would have been stuck under a crashed helicopter. To get out, Bruce would have used a knife to hack off his own hand. This would have a much more intense film than the PG-13 Live Free or Die Hard.

Other times, the fourth film is intended to “pass the torch” and change the lead character. The fourth Jason Bourne tried unsuccessfully to change leads, with Jeremy Renner taking over duties for Matt Damon, albeit with a newly created character. The fourth-Damonless film was not a success, and the actor was brought back for the next installment. Renner also figured in another example of a “passing the torch” attempt in include Jeremy Renner's efforts to succeed Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol. However, Renner did not reprise his role in either series’ fifth installment, both of which starred Cruise. After starring in three Karate Kid films, Ralph Macchio seemingly had his last karate kick, and future Oscar winner Hillary Swank was brought in as the titular Next Karate Kid. (Swank lasted only one film and Macchio returns to the film franchise in 2025’s Karate Kid: Legends). Similarly, the fourth Highlander film saw the demise of the immortal played by Christopher Lambert so that another lead- Adrian Paul- could lop off the heads of adversaries to the strains of the Queen soundtrack.

An ill-conceived fourth film can put a series on ice. After Joel Schumacher’s Batman & Robin was criticized for being too campy, it seemed that he “killed the franchise.” As such, the billion-dollar franchise laid dormant from 1997 to 2005 until Christopher Nolan wiped the slate clean and started a new series beginning with Batman Begins. The Jaws franchise has fared worse. Jaws: The Revenge proved to be the last Jaws film. Steven Spielberg, who was not involved in any official capacity in Jaws 2, 3, or 4, seemed to learn his lesson and applied it to the Jurassic Park series. Even though he only directed the first two films, Spielberg remained on for its many sequels as an executive producer.

When it comes to the titles of fourth films, sometimes there’s truth in advertising and sometimes not. The fourth Friday the 13th and Lake Placid were subtitled The Final Chapter. It goes without saying that the hatchet-wielding killer is still at large, and David E Kelly’s killer crocodile still has the munches. The fourth in the original Planet of the Apes film series was intended to conclude the series. But Conquest for Planet of the Apes, the fourth film in the original series proved so popular that a fifth film was put into production. Tim Burton’s remake followed in 2001 and even today audiences are going ape for a reboot series with photo-realistic primates. 2024’s Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, the fourth film in the reboot series, earned nearly $400 million at the box office and an Academy Award nomination for visual effects.

There are times when the fourth film becomes the most financially successful of the series. For instance, John Wick: Chapter 4, Mad Max: Fury Road, and Rocky IV, have out-earned all the earlier installments. Rocky IV was so popular that the 1985 film spawned a direct sequel in the form of 2018’s Creed II. Despite the fourth film’s outsized success, Sylvester Stallone wasn’t quite satisfied with the theatrical cut. So he tinkered with the movie, changed the tone, added about 40 minutes of “unseen” footage, and re-released it in 2021 as Rocky IV: Rocky vs. Drago – The Ultimate Director’s Cut. Stallone might have been happy with his 35th-anniversary re-cut, but fans of the “Rocky robot” were disheartened to see the lovable robot axed from the flick. I tracked down the robot’s creator and interviewed him for the book. Needless to say, he prefers the original cut.

The filmmakers I interviewed for Movies Go Fourth shared the highs and lows of franchise filmmaking. For instance, Joel Schumacher directed both Batman 3 (Batman Forever) and Batman 4 (Batman & Robin). Notably, both films feature many of the same creative team—the same director, writer, producer, production designer, director of photography, and composer. The filmmaker gives an open and revealing account of why one film worked and the other did not.

Mark Rosenthal spoke to me about his screenplay for Superman IV. The decision to re-hire Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor was meant to be a return to form for the flagging series. However, Cannon Films didn’t have the finances to realize his ambitious vision. As a result, set pieces were discarded or unconvincingly brought to life. Superman IV never really took flight.

There are some surprising stories about fourth entries. Joseph Stinson, writer of Sudden Impact, swoons as he describes Clint Eastwood’s fidelity to his script. He also described the uncanny feeling when then-President Reagan quoted his line, “Go ahead, make my day.”

The fourth Meatballs movie wasn’t even part of the franchise until after filming commenced. Instead, the movie started as an indie film titled Happy Campers and it starred Corey Feldman. Partway through filming, the producer informed the cast and crew that they were now making a Meatballs film. The filmmakers were not happy campers when they found out. The fourth Porky’s film was quickly made just to retain the rights. So it was shot in just 15 days, and the producers quietly released the cheapie film under the title Pimpin’ Pee Wee. Incidentally, when a film is made for the sole purpose of protecting copyright, it is dubiously dubbed an “ashcan copy.”

There are scores of commercial and artistic reasons for creating fourth installments in popular series. Fourth films can allow moviegoers to see their favorite characters in all new adventures. They are also a way for studio heads and executives to hedge their bets by delivering the familiar. For better or for worse, the fourth film can be the turning point in a franchise. The fourth Bond film, Thunderball, took the series to new (and, for some, unmatched) heights. The fourth film can also rejuvenate a flagging franchise or show a filmmaker in command of their craft. Alternatively, a fourth film can be when the wheels go off the wagon.

Not all the movies covered in Movies Go Fourth are staggering works of heartbreaking genius. But they were all made by a group of filmmakers who were doing their best to create the best movie they could, given the circumstances in which the films were made. In that context, sometimes the fourth time is the charm.

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By Fred Blosser 

“The Revenge of Ivanhoe” was released in Italy on January 22, 1965, under its original title, “La Rivincita di Ivanhoe,” and nine months later in West Germany as “Die Rache der Ivanhoe.” (Everything sounds scarier in German!) The German print is currently streaming on Tubi in the original 2.35:1 aspect with English dubbing and subtitles. The qualifier in the title, “Revenge,” might lead you to expect a sequel to “Ivanhoe,” the sumptuous 1952 MGM film based on Sir Walter Scott’s classic 1819 novel. But the Italian picture is actually another adaptation of the novel, stripped down to basics to fit a 90-minute running time, minus several of the supporting characters and subplots faithfully ported over from the novel in the earlier MGM version.

The fundamental storyline of fearless hero, rapacious villain, and damsel in distress remains the same. Returning from the Crusades, Ivanhoe discovers that his sweetheart, Lady Rowena, is being held as a virtual prisoner by the ambitious Lord Cedric of Hastings. Cedric plans to seize Rowena’s fortune by arranging a marriage with one of his henchmen. When she resists, Cedric accuses Rowena of conspiring with Saxon dissidents and brings her to trial. If she’s found guilty, she must forfeit her estate. The jury is packed with the nobleman’s cronies, and Cedric has toadied up to King John in the bargain, so the outcome is a foregone conclusion. But Rowena has a possible out. Under feudal law, she has the right to demand a trial by combat between Cedric’s slimy son, Bertrand, and any knight who will champion her cause. If Bertrand is defeated, she goes free. It seems unlikely that anyone will challenge Bertrand, who has a reputation as a ferocious man with a sword, but Ivanhoe learns of the announcement and shows up, incognito, to uphold truth and justice.

The MGM version of “Ivanhoe” was old-school Hollywood at its finest and shiniest, packed with lavish sets, exterior shots of real castles in England, and the considerable star power of Robert Taylor, Elizabeth Taylor, Deborah Kerr, and George Sanders. Made for a fraction of that budget, “The Revenge of Ivanhoe” can hardly compare. For the most part, the sword fights are as chaotic and bloodless as any that a bunch of ten-year olds might stage. Still, the B-movie limitations have their own charm if you’re fond of this kind of “thee, thou, and thine” pageantry as I am. The widescreen cinematography and Giuseppe Piccillo’s stately musical score give the production a level of credibility that might surprise you, especially if you remember this sort of assembly-line knockoff from the terrible, cropped prints that used to show up as late-night filler decades ago on local television outlets. The film’s director, Tania Boccia, billed as “Amerigo Anton,” was an Italian journeyman who made everything from gladiator epics to Spaghetti Westerns and spy adventures. Much of his style comes down simply to moving the actors from one place to another, but the same can be said of most 1960s genre directors anywhere who were tasked to meet tight deadlines and strict budgets.

Like other productions from the thriving Italian film industry of the ‘60s that attracted actors from around the world, “The Revenge of Ivanhoe” boasted a cast from enough different countries to constitute a United Nations quorum. Most of them were Italian, including Andrea Aureli as Ivanhoe’s nemesis Bertrand. Balding and forty-ish, Aureli is the weakest part of the ensemble; he looks more like an insurance salesman than the fastest sword in England. In some scenes, the ubiquitous Giovanni Cianfriglia can be glimpsed. A dark, strapping actor and stuntman who would have been better cast as Bertrand, Cianfriglia made scores of gladiator films and Westerns as “Ken Wood.” Gilda Lousek, as Rowena, was Argentinian, as was Duilio Marzio as Cedric. Polish actor Vladimiro Tuicovich plays Cedric’s advisor Rathbone, who encourages the nobleman’s bad behaviour and augments it with his own suggestions. Short and pudgy, with a shaven head and weaselly features, Tuicovich looks a little like Mike Myers’ Dr. Evil from the “Austin Powers” comedies, not a problem in 1965 but likely to cause modern viewers to make the comparison. In the role of Ivanhoe was Rik Van Nutter (1929-2005), billed in the credits as “Clyde Rogers.” Despite his blond, Germanic good looks, a name like “Van Nutter,” and the fact he made movies mostly in Europe, the actor was a native Californian, born Frederick Allan Nutter. He was once married—lucky guy—to Anita Ekberg in real life. He is probably most remembered from “Thunderball” (1965) as the third of the seven actors cast as Felix Leiter across six decades of the James Bond movies, and to my mind the best of the seven in screen presence. He’s a bit stiff as Ivanhoe, but no more than many of the actors who essayed roles as knights, musketeers, and Zorro in the ’50s and ‘60s, including Paul Henreid, Louis Heyward, and Frank Latimore, or more recently, Russell Crowe in Ridley Scott’s dismal 2010 version of “Robin Hood.” At least Van Nutter fulfils one vital requirement of the genre. He’s convincingly stalwart in tights and a matching chain link vest.

The Tubi print streams free with commercial interruptions and no option to avoid them. This may not be a serious obstacle for veteran B-movie fans who became accustomed to watching such fare on the Late Late Show in the 1970s, interspersed with local used-car and easy-credit ads. At least with streaming you can watch where and when you want, as you wait for the sadly remote chance that one of the boutique labels will ever release “The Revenge of Ivanhoe” in a good, hi-def print on Region 1 Blu-ray. (Note: we have learned that the film is also streaming on YouTube.)

(Fred Blosser is the author of "Focus on the Spaghetti Western #1:The Films of Tony Kendall". Click here to order from Amazon.)