Blast of Silence.

Review #2334: Blast of Silence.

Cast:

Allen Baron (Frank Bono), Molly McCarthy (Lorrie), Larry Tucker (Big Ralph), Peter H. Clune (Troiano), Danny Meehan (Petey), Howard Mann (Bodyguard), Charles Creasap (Contact man), with Bill DePrato (Joe Boniface), and Lionel Stander (Narrator) Written and Directed by Allen Baron.

Review: 

Admittedly, some movies are picked not so much for their great status but because you have to admire the tenacity to get something done in the hopes that somebody, anybody, could watch it and either be entertained or learn something different in perspective. It is the work of a man who directed just three other movies but was never too far without work. Born and raised in Brooklyn, he dropped out of high school at 16 to look for work. Three years later, he studied at the School of Visual Arts and later worked in freelance art and cabdriving. Evidently, an invite to visit onto a Paramount sound stage in 1951 interested in filmmaking. When working, he was approached into working on a low-budget film with some friends...in Cuba. One can only wonder what type of omen comes with that movie being Barry Mahon's Cuban Rebel Girls (1959). But Baron had such an interesting time (well, if "accidentally firing a shotgun and getting arrested before escaping Cuba" is interesting) that he ended up wanting to do his own independent film. Gradually, with the help of taxi-driving and the help of acquiring equipment (such as "short ends" of film at discount price, or, um, going back to Cuba to recover equipment), a movie eventually came into focus. Baron was basically forced to star in the movie (starting with the test footage) when he could not get his summer stock friend to appear (Peter Falk, interestingly enough). Shot in guerilla fashion in New York City for about $50,000 (as shot and produced by Merrill Brody), the movie even managed to find a place for release with Universal Pictures. The movie actually had its climax filmed during a hurricane (in late September 1960, the East Coast got hit with a storm, strangely enough). While Baron wrote the film, Will Sparks was a "story consultant". The narration for the film was provided after production, as written by Waldo Salt and narrated by Lionel Stander. Both were not given proper credit due being on the blacklist (Salt would later recover and win two Academy Awards for his scripts on Midnight Cowboy and Coming Home while Stander settled in Europe for many years and maintained work). Baron directed three other films, Terror in the City (1964; also known as "Pie in the Sky"), Outside In (1972), and Foxfire Light (1982), but he maintained a much steadier career with hundreds of episodes on TV, most notably with The Love Boat and Charlie's Angels. In steady retirement from filmmaking for many years, Baron apparently paints regularly into his nineties.

There is something quite fascinating in the gloomy skies that come from such a raw movie presented here. It is a swiftly black-hearted movie that grinds 77 minutes in the strangest ways possible for a noir that really is in a strange place when it comes to "the times". It features a shell for a lead character to follow to go with, well, not the greatest performances to back that up, but it has a strangely alluring sense of self in terms of urban loneliness and a captivating narration that seems to engulf the viewer each time words get uttered, one that finds terror in the awakening of old haunting grounds to see, complete with a Christmastime setting to stick the knife in further. The movie starts with a scream and ends with the stench of death that makes for a cut-and-dry metaphor of someone who just couldn't handle being a man with people to think about beyond who goes in the box next. Baron may not have been a force of nature for acting beyond a particular cadence fit for small-time gangster roles, but you can still see a curious performance mined in the realm of desperation. This is a man grinded into being a certain type of tool that can be used and disposed of just as quickly as another can take one's place in the great circle of relevancy. Anybody could be a cog to be thrown away into the dustbin to a quiet disposal, really, but it is especially apparent to see it play out with a movie that does not lend much to its own proceedings. Of course, Tucker and his unsavory timing fit the movie to a T in invoking visceral malaise (interestingly, he would later become a screenwriter, co-writing such works as Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice [1969]). McCarthy is fine as a mere ordinary pawn, one who differs from the creature we see in the film as our lead. As a whole, the sum of the parts makes for a curious result here, with Baron and company having crafted a raw and gloomy feature that endears itself to the ones who encounter it for the blunt execution that comes from its result of a man who can only be seen by others as either death or just a face in the crowd that gets whacked with fate just as everyone.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Curse of the Werewolf.

Review #2307: The Curse of the Werewolf.

Cast: 

Clifford Evans (Don Alfredo Corledo), Oliver Reed (Leon Corledo; Justin Walters as Young Leon Corledo), Yvonne Romain (servant girl; Loraine Carvana as young servant girl), Catherine Feller (Christina Fernando), Anthony Dawson (Marques Siniestro), Josephine Llewelyn (Marquesa Siniestro), Richard Wordsworth (Beggar), Hira Talfrey (Teresa), John Gabriel (Priest), Warren Mitchell (Pepe Valiente), and Anne Blake (Rosa Valiente)

Directed by Terence Fisher (#257 - The Curse of Frankenstein, #258 - Dracula [1958], #272 - The Hound of the Baskervilles [1959], #469 - The Revenge of Frankenstein, #833 - Spaceways, #857 - Frankenstein Created Woman, #858 - Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed, #859 - Dracula: Prince of Darkness, #1280 - The Brides of Dracula, #2096 - The Mummy [1959], #2263 - Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell)

Review: 

I figure that you need at least one werewolf movie every so often to remind oneself about how fresh werewolf tales are for films, since the first few came out in the 1910s before the first definivite one came with Universal's Werewolf of London (1935). Hammer ended up making just one werewolf film. Anthony Hinds produced and wrote the screenplay for this film, which cites the novel The Werewolf of Paris (as written by Guy Endore in 1941, having already co-written film scripts such as 1935's Mark of the Vampire and Mad Love), which happens to have its own interesting idea about werewolves: a person born in awful circumstances, which differs from book to film: the book featured a baby born on Christmas Eve after the rape of a girl by a priest hat is set around the time of the Franco-Prussian War (1870), while the film depicts a servant girl raped by a beggar born on Christmas Day that is set in 18th century Spain. The sets were done at Bray Studios that took the place of their intended use for a "Spanish Inquisition" film that did not go forward due to objections (probably doesn't help the working title was "The Rape of Sabena"). It is the first werewolf film in color. The movie was directed by the same filmmaker that had directed Hammer to success with The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), Dracula (1958) and The Mummy (1959) in Terence Fisher, although the result was not nearly as successful, mostly because of censors that saw the movie trimmed down (to one with barely any attacks, apparently). Legend of the Werewolf, as made by Tyburn Film Productions in 1975 as an attempt to serve as a successor to Hammer, was written by Hinds, with inspiration taken from the Endore novel (without credit given to Endore this time around).

So, you get a movie depicting the war between one's "soul" and "spirit" that basically has a guy cursed from the very moment he is born...and a film that doesn't really show its wolf for about an hour into its 90-minute runtime. You basically have three threads loosely connected into each other for a movie that is clearly not Hammer's best film but might be up your alley in terms of mediocre fun. It has less use of the makeup (as designed by Roy Ashton that might remind one of Jack Pierce's work on The Wolf Man) that you might expect to go with a fairly decent look to it all in cinematography for a movie that basically goes all in on the idea of trying to confront the terror of werewolves with love, with bleak results. One basically has three plot outlines to go through in succession that sort of tie together: the story of a beggar and his eventual descent into ravaging (after a drawn-out scene of a Marques), the birth and growing up of young Leon (complete with "dreams") and then Leon in adulthood seeing love and lust collide. It is a strange way to collude things together. This was the first leading role for Reed, who had appeared in a number of bit parts since the mid-1950s, which included appearances in Hammer's The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll (1960) and Sword of Sherwood Forest (1960). He may not get as much time to grab the screen, but he ends up being the highlight of the film anyway, portraying the inner war of spirit and soul with worthwhile timing to make for suspenseful interest. The clash of what makes up a man when confronted with love and lust in a burgeoning adulthood is at least something worth thinking of beyond just labeling it as just a Lon Chaney impersonation. It pretty much overshadows Evans, who is fine if not exactly remarkable (Welshmen playing a "Don Alfredo" is not as silly as it could be). Feller is adequate for a role that doesn't even give her a final shot at the end. Dawson and his scene-chewing in such a short time will be hit or miss for some, but I'm totally fine with it in terms of unsettling strangeness in a land not too strange to us. The movie works just enough for those with the patience to go with its variation on the tragic figure in the werewolf that has a worthwhile performance to lead the way and make things at least end on a solemn note worth noting. As a whole, the movie doesn't compare greatly with the prior work of Fisher, but for a film that has some interesting conflict once it gets good (at least when the censors weren't busy), it might prove enough to win out in the end, depending on one's patience for the overall construction that comes out here.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next up: 30 years later, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

Homicidal.

Review #2300: Homicidal.

Cast: 

Glenn Corbett (Karl), Patricia Breslin (Miriam Webster), Joan Marshall (Emily), Eugenie Leontovich (Helga), Alan Bunce (Dr. Jonas), Richard Rust (Jim Nesbitt), James Westerfield (Mr. Adrims), Gilbert Green (Lieutenant Miller), Wolfe Barzell (Olie), Jean Arless (Warren), and Hope Summers (Mrs. Adrims) Produced and Directed by William Castle (#369 - House on Haunted Hill (1959), #1071 - 13 Ghosts, #1418 - The Night Walker, #1703 - Undertow, #2261 - Macabre)

Review: 

You remember that William Castle had bet on himself with Macabre (1958) in promotional gambits wrapped in spooky horror. He followed it with films that continued the trend with worthwhile success with the following year with House on Haunted Hill and The Tingler. He kept it going with 13 Ghosts (1960) before putting his sights on two films for 1961, with the other being Mr. Sardonicus. Homicidal was written by Robb White in his fifth and final collaboration with Castle. Admittedly, Castle is just as much a presence here as the people are for the film, complete with him being in the introductory sequence that leads right to a needle-point title card (and of course, the buildup to the end). Yes, the film does have a special fright break, placed just before the climax that actually counts down for 45 seconds. One could simply leave the movie and get their money back if they were "too frightened". Of course, the response to the question you might have (why not hide and then see it a second time before leaving at the end?) was thought of by Castle too: a "Coward's Corner" and certificate of one being a chicken. With Castle delivering his style of promotion that involved travelling around from area to area to help promote his film by talking to people (he apparently would sometimes stand in the lobby of a theater showing the movie in order to discuss the movie with people who just saw it), it was no surprise that the film was a relative success at the time of release for Columbia Pictures (the distributor for Castle's films from 1959 to 1964). 

Sure, it may invite comparisons to Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960) in the loosest of senses when it comes to twist endings and a certain type of buildup with carefully spread-out body-counts (both films have a kill count of two and even more coincidentally, Hitchcock had been interested in making Psycho after seeing the success of House on Haunted Hill on its low budget). It is the kind of craftsmanship that delivers exactly what you would want in macabre enjoyment that leaves one mostly pleased for 87 minutes. Sure, its opening sequence and closing outweigh the elements for the middle section, but it rolls along in relative comfort. Marshall was a fairly a regular presence on television but as it turned out, this was her first and only big role (complete with using a stage name for some reason) for a film prior to her death at the age of 61 in 1992. Once you realize the extent of what she has to do for the film (involving makeup because of her successful audition), you see a pretty neat performance to carry the movie along with examining the troubles of an unbalanced self. She is a strange egg from the first time we see her before she even gets into the amusing phony marriage bit, which probably delivers the best stunner of the whole film where she takes a kiss from the justice of the peace and promptly stabs him before waltzing out in the middle of the night. Breslin and Corbett don't exactly have much to really do to stand out among the bubbling schlock, but even solid normalcy is welcome when you wait patiently. Leontovich actually was more known in the theatre for her acting, playwrighting and teaching, with this just being her sixth (and last) film role, one in which she doesn't utter a sentence. She still does well regardless in capturing fear when matched against Marshall in that fine art of taunting tension that is closed out with the other cheeky moment of the film: seeing the body in the distance only to have the head pop out down the stairs. For those who like familiarity with a showman at the helm to deliver a few interesting moments in an era where the surface was only starting to get chillier and murkier. Regardless of how one regards Castle as a filmmaker, he sure made you take notice in his best day.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Pit and the Pendulum (1961).

Review #2295: The Pit and the Pendulum (1961).

Cast:

Vincent Price (Nicholas / Sebastian Medina), John Kerr (Francis Barnard), Barbara Steele (Elizabeth), Luana Anders (Catherine Medina), Antony Carbone (Doctor Leon), Patrick Westwood (Maximillian), and Lynette Bernay (Maria) 

Produced and Directed by Roger Corman (#368 - The Little Shop of Horrors, #684 - It Conquered the World, #852 - The Terror, #931 - Not of This Earth, #1007 - Attack of the Crab Monsters, #1039 - Five Guns West, #1042 - War of the Satellites, #1136 - Gas-s-s-s, #1147 - X: The Man with the X-ray Eyes, #1186 - A Bucket of Blood, #1423 - The Wild Angels, #1425 - The St. Valentine's Day Massacre, #1674 - Machine-Gun Kelly, #1684 - Creature from the Haunted Sea, #1918 - House of Usher, #2030 - The Trip, #2113 - The Undead, #2211 - The Intruder, #2275 - The Wasp Woman)

Review: 

"I had a lot of theories I was working with when I did the Poe films... One of my theories was that these stories were created out of the unconscious mind of Poe, and the unconscious mind never really sees reality, so until The Tomb of Ligeia, we never showed the real world. In Pit, John Kerr arrived in a carriage against an ocean background, which I felt was more representative of the unconscious."

Well, when you get one successful movie based on the Poe stories, who not another? House of Usher (1960) and this film share the same screenwriter (Richard Matheson), the same cinematographer (Floyd Crosby), the same set designer (Daniel Haller) and even the same lead actor (Price). Apparently, one plan to follow up Usher was to adapt "The Masque of the Red Death", but either Corman or Samuel Z. Arkoff decided that the 1842 story "The Pit and the Pendulum" by Poe would be better to adapt next (Corman claimed that making Masque would inspire comparisons to The Seventh Seal [1957]); it wasn't exactly set in stone to make a series of Poe films yet, it just so happened that the first was a hell of surprise in being a hit that they thought they could another one. The original story was merely a brief tale involving the Spanish Inquisition that involved a razor pendulum and eventually a contraption involving moving red-hot walls, which made it a tough one to crack for adaptation at first. Matheson reflected on the fact that he basically imposed an "old suspense mystery" in an attempt to do Poe. A prologue was shot for TV that sometimes is included for home media releases to view. The next film in the Poe cycle would be the unusual one of the group in The Premature Burial (1962), which originally started out as a non-AIP venture in financing (before soon becoming one, although Ray Milland was the star). Matheson didn't write that film, but he did write for the next two Corman-Poe films with Tales of Terror (1962) and The Raven (1963).

Admittedly, one probably does have an early sense of familiarity watching this any time after doing so with Usher, since both start with someone going up to a foreboding place involving a doomed Price and a doomed lady. But if you know Corman well enough, you know that he had the spark to make a worthwhile venture when everything comes up his way in execution for 80 minutes. He may have had 15 days to shoot the film, but he makes the film look like it came out of the woodwork with no trouble at all, one that shows his craftsmanship and his imagination in perpetuating his ideas of Poe and the unconscious mind. As spearheaded by Haller, the film utilized a handful of discarded pieces of sets (such as archways and stone wall units) for its look that looks dazzling in unnerving enjoyment. I'm not quite sure which is better among Usher or Pendulum, but one would be forgiven for just going along with the ride when it comes to a seminal actor like Price to lead the way. One can wonder just how to describe how good Price is when you've seen him in plenty of horror movies, but he has that certain type of talent that means one never seems to see him phone it in just for the sake of it all. His descent into madness is our descent because of how lurid everything looks and feels to us. I can't help but smile when the film kicks into the climax in delightful terror, probably because there is something befitting in smiling at what otherwise is a scary prospect: torture-traps and looping into old traumas by manipulation. The fact that the torture device looks spooky enough to actually look dangerous helps to really bring it all together for a movie that could've just as easily weltered with such a specific amount of people to focus on (five, really). Kerr may be ordinary, but he at least is steady enough to keep things Steele may not have much to do, but she does prove a worthy conniving match with Anders when it comes to strange bedfellows, particularly when it comes to that final rundown and shot. In totality, it is a delightful movie, making a worthwhile addition to the horror tradition that plays loosely with the Poe story in the best way possible for one's mind to look with.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Master of the World (1961).

Review #2255: Master of the World (1961)

Cast: 

Vincent Price (Robur), Charles Bronson (John Strock), Henry Hull (Prudent), Mary Webster (Dorothy Prudent), David Frankham (Philip Evans), Richard Harrison (Helmsman Alistair), Vito Scotti (Airship Chef Topage), Wally Campo (First Mate Turner), and Ken Terrell (Crewman Shanks) Directed by William Witney.

Review: 

Oh sure, an American International Pictures production that isn't just about horror, what could go wrong? The movie is loosely adapted from the works on Jules Verne, specifically the novels Robur the Conqueror (written in 1886) and Master of the World (written in 1904), as screenwriter Richard Matheson (in his second screenplay for an AIP film, as this was released between House of Usher [1960] and The Pit and the Pendulum [1961]) combined elements for this hodgepodge. But hey, we (yes, I include you) are here for the entertainment value in whatever is being cooked up on an "efficient" budget and maybe even in its cast. And this seems especially apparent here with Vincent Price being the star. Believe it or not, there were rumblings of making a follow-up feature, despite the way the actual film ended (an explosion!), complete with drawings, although these plans were scrapped pretty quickly. Witney was an experienced director dating back to the 1930s, which included films such as Adventures of Captain Marvel (1941) along with plenty of television; he directed until he was in his late sixties. 

Really this is a curious movie, because you get a little adventure in color with Price trying to thread the needle of adversary that doesn't require fey qualities to go with Bronson getting a chance of a leading man as opposed to the early heavy stuff (such as Machine-Gun Kelly, if you remember) to go with a few others that either will keep your interest or have the effect of a puddle. 102 minutes is probably decent enough to command the attention of a movie that has pretty routine filmmaking to go with occasional goofy comic-strip moments. So yes, you get the triangle of conflict between the obviously cool adversary in Price (no bias detected), a bullish Hull, and "ambiguity" (nicest word possible) in Bronson. Well, and a bit of hammy old-man acting from Frankham and window-aisle stuff in Webster, but you get the idea. Price seems to be having quite the ball here, playing the angle that arises in pacifism taken to a certain type of notch when it comes to trying to force it down on everyone from the clouds to go with occasional spouting of the Bible. Price isn't playing it for camp, but he makes it fascinating, nonetheless. Bronson and his dryness might not compare to, say, The Magnificent Seven (1960), but it probably does reflect well to see his casual observation at the difference between ideals and methods, particularly with how leaden one finds Hull or Webster (set in the 19th century or not, wondering what is fit for a "gentleman" is not interesting in the slightest for someone like me). Interestingly, this is a movie made for about a million dollars that still manages to look a bit cheap, particularly if you like to wonder just what is made of stock footage and what is not (the opening at least is obvious because hey, "flight'!). Sometimes the aerial view is a bit silly (those familiar with rear projection might have a guess), which is especially true with the rope sequence. At a certain point, one just has to wonder where the low bar is but considering certain other AIP features past and present in terms of trying one's patience (such as here and here), I was fine with it here just enough. I can at least dig the climax for giving one a good sendoff in terms of unsettling ideas. Those with the fortitude to enjoy an AIP film for what it is in goofy entertainment will find something fine here, while others might recognize an even more hammier AIP film than usual. I went with the flow because it went with my expectations of a fairly decent time, which I suppose made it a winner that I could recommend for those with the fortitude to enjoy a goofy film from old yesteryear with one worthwhile performance to follow along with in the usual tradition.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

One, Two, Three.

Review #2235: One, Two, Three.

Cast: 

James Cagney (C.R. "Mac" MacNamara), Horst Buchholz (Otto Ludwig Piffl), Pamela Tiffin (Scarlett Hazeltine), Arlene Francis (Phyllis MacNamara), Liselotte Pulver (Fräulein Ingeborg), Hanns Lothar (Schlemmer), Howard St. John (Wendell P. Hazeltine), Leon Askin (Peripetchikoff), Ralf Wolter (Borodenko), Peter Capell (Mishkin), Karl Lieffen (Fritz), and Hubert von Meyerinck (Count Waldemar von Droste-Schattenburg; Sig Ruman as English voice) Produced and Directed by Billy Wilder (#106 - Some Like It Hot, #194 - Ace in the Hole, #422 - The Fortune Cookie, #641 - The Apartment, #809 - Sunset Boulevard, #1384 - Stalag 17, #1390 - The Seven Year Itch, #1825 - Double Indemnity) 

Review: 

"We knew that we were going to have a comedy, we [were] not going to be waiting for the laughs. But we had to go with Cagney, because Cagney was the whole picture. He really had the rhythm, and that was very good. It was not funny. But just the speed was funny...The general idea was, let's make the fastest picture in the world...And yeah, we did not wait, for once, for the big laughs. We went through the big laughs. A lot of lines that needed a springboard, and we just went right through the springboard...We just did it, nine pages at a time, and he never fumbled, he never made a mistake."

This was the 18th feature film to be directed by Billy Wilder, who had been quite busy as a filmmaker by this point in time of his career. He wrote the screenplay for this film with I. A. L. Diamond for yet another collaboration with each other as the two worked together mostly uninterrupted from Love in the Afternoon (1957) to Buddy Buddy (1981); inspirations for this film (read: borrowed) was the Ferenc Molnár's 1929 play Egy, kettő, három but also Ninotchka (1939), which had been co-written by Wilder. As such, he picked James Cagney to be the star, despite queries about the fast-paced intent. This would be the penultimate performance for Cagney, who went from liking the idea of doing a film in West Berlin to being annoyed at the experience of filmmaking with having to go with such a high pace of speaking along with not enjoying the presence of Buchholz in terms of scene-stealing. If one sees the sequence involving clothes and wondering about a morning coat and "striped pants", keep in mind that it apparently took over fifty takes to get that sequence exactly to Wilder's liking (the result was that Cagney would not appear in a film for two decades). The film was released four months after construction of the Berlin Wall started (which is why the film came out with a preface mentioning August 13, 1961 and that the people one would be dealing with here are "real shifty") and generated a muted response, although a few decades later, it found an appreciation in West Berlin. Wilder and Diamond would stay busy regardless, working together three more times in the decade with Irma la Douce (1963), Kiss Me, Stupid (1964), and The Fortune Cookie (1966).

Well, it is a fairly well-rounded production, this much is for sure. Seeing the film with the best available view (i.e. paying attention to its widescreen) will at least make one appreciate the effort taken to place these characters in as wide a space as possible to display such madcap-type of dialogue. It never really reaches a place of greatness, but it isn't hard to at least defend the movie as a silly time involving the satire of go-getters on one side of Berlin and, well, the folks in the East. It is probably one of the more obvious "hit or miss" kind of comedies, where you are either with it or find it to be a lead-footed film. Cagney may not have had the most enjoyable experience with filming, but he sure does dominate the film with a tremendous amount of commitment that anchors the film in ways that would've been lost with a lesser actor. He runs with the film and never loses a step while being quite funny in having to shift gears from enterprising razzle-dazzle to screwball razzmatazz with the right cadence to lift it all rightfully. Suffice to say though, he was probably a bit correct about Buchholz, because he is merely adequate when compared to the rest of the cast in terms of timing beyond just that edge of bluster that is only slightly funny, particularly when compared to Tiffin, who is far more interesting with her hearty timing. Francis matches well with Cagney in those screwy moments together (such as referring to her husband as "mein führer" multiple times). The rest deliver a few chuckles in parts, such as Lothar having to dodge the ramifications that arise from being asked to borrow a dress in public or a few mishaps spent with a trio of communists. The 104-minute runtime is about on par with what one might see from a really fast film with a few hijinks that may be around the speed of His Girl Friday (1940) but the end result is merely just a selection of chuckles rather than hearty laughs to go with appreciation for its look. It doesn't wear out its welcome by the end, but one can see where it may have been just a bit out of its time when it comes to the final result that is sometimes silly, sometimes overwhelming and yet one that is curious enough to seek out for those big on Wilder beyond the obvious choices.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars. 

The Naked Edge.

Review #2232: The Naked Edge.

Cast: 

Gary Cooper (George Radcliffe), Deborah Kerr (Martha Radcliffe), Eric Portman (Jeremy Clay), Ray McAnally (Donald Heath), Diane Cilento (Mrs. Heath), Hermione Gingold (Lilly Harris), Peter Cushing (Mr. Evan Wrack), Michael Wilding (Morris Brooke), Ronald Howard (Mr. Claridge), and 

Sandor Elès (Manfridi St John) Directed by Michael Anderson (#717 - Logan's Run and #1393 - Around the World in 80 Days)

Review: 

Admittedly, there is a bit of appeal in wondering what the fuss is about with the poster and a certain fact. The film is based on the 1955 novel First Train to Babylon, as written by Max Ehrlich. Joseph Stefano wrote the screenplay adaptation, and if you've seen the poster, that was the writer behind the screenplay adaptation for 1960's Psycho, likely his most famous accomplishment (in general, Stefano was involved more with television writing and occasional producing, such as the original The Outer Limits). Perhaps not surprisingly, the poster, and the last line of the film itself, as told to us by voiceover, do a gimmick similar to that film in not wanting audiences to be seated "during the last 13 minutes" (for a 97-minute film, but naturally it works to tell people to really hold in that break). Of course, now that one has that out of the way, this was the final film for its star in Cooper, who died of cancer on May 13, 1961, a month before the release of the film, which wasn't exactly a hit. He had worked with Anderson before with The Wreck of the Mary Deare (1959); the film was shot in London and at Elstree Studios in Borehamwood, Hertfordshire. 

The runtime is a funny one to have a "don't seat folks for the last couple" trick to, particularly for a film that seems to drag its tension out as much as possible. Really this is the kind of movie where people get suspicious of folks because of having the most amusing choice of words for phrasing, as evidenced by a scene where our lead is telling about raising money for a venture that came out because he "made a killing" on the stock market. One could possibly make a few edits and make it a comedy about a guy who does increasingly outlandish things with his wife that thinks he may be guilty (such as say, asking her to join him on the edge of a cliff - actually, that's in the film). The intro with a stabbing and the time spent with Cushing in the courtroom stuff does appeal to the most basic curiosities of mine, at least. Of course, Kerr was actually a pretty good actress in her own right to match up with Cooper (who was 20 years older than her). She makes those worries and doubts seem workable for something that really would've floundered under the weight of such amusing ambiguity with a lesser actress involved. That isn't to say that Cooper doesn't pair well with Kerr, but I think one can be forgiven for stating that there are times where a weary-seeming Cooper is not so much acting as it is a man trying to push through being tired. Cooper is worrisome enough to make Kerr's queries and fears over what really may be possible (or not) worth watching, although the best scene is with Cilento in terms of force and grace. Portman is at least adequate in the middle. The eventual ending is probably not ideal in the actual rundown, particularly with portions involving a struggle, but that doesn't sink the film completely at least because if one gets far enough to appreciate the film beforehand with its look in terms of cinematography (as shot by Erwin Hillier and Tony White) and bubbling dread, then one can't be too off. As a whole, it isn't exactly the finest hour for its stars or its director, but it has a nice look and probably enough ambiguity to seek out once if the curiosity factor is there enough to go in as cold as possible for its mystery, which for me just manages to make it over the finish line.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Viridiana.

Review #2075: Viridiana.

Cast: 

Silvia Pinal (Viridiana), Francisco Rabal (Jorge), Fernando Rey (Don Jaime), José Calvo (Don Amalio), Margarita Lozano (Ramona), José Manuel Martín (El Cojo), Victoria Zinny (Lucia), Luis Heredia (Manuel 'El Poca'), Joaquín Roa (Don Zequiel - a beggar), Lola Gaos (Enedina), María Isbert (Beggar), Teresa Rabal (Rita) Directed by Luis Buñuel (#1383 - Él, #1723 - Los Olvidados, and #1884 - L'Age d'Or)

Review: 

“I didn’t deliberately set out to be blasphemous, but then Pope John XXIII is a better judge of such things than I am.”

 

The time had come at last for Luis Buñuel to return home to Spain, or at least return to a greater prominence. Well, if that's the way one wants to put it, anyways, because he was never really gone besides making a steady living ever since he left his native country for good once the nationalist forces led by Francisco Franco had fully taken control of the country (Buñuel of course had been busy during the Spanish Civil War as a coordinator of film propaganda for the Republic); Land Without Bread (1933), termed a "pseudo-documentary" and made in Spain, was his last film for over a decade. Gran Casino (1947) wasn't a great success with Mexican audiences, but it was the first of numerous features Buñuel made in Mexico, which would include varying levels of notability from Los Olvidados (1950) to Robinson Crusoe (1954; shot in Mexico in both English and Spanish). Cela s'appelle l'aurore (1956) saw him return to France for a time that resulted in two further productions. Interestingly, the film made right before Viridiana was The Young One (1960), an English-language production made in Mexico. Anyway, back to Viridiana, which Buñuel co-wrote with Julio Alejandro as a loose adaptation of the 1895 novel Halma by Benito Pérez Galdós; in 1959, they had adapted Galdos' Nazarin. The film received interest within festivals but was also called "blasphemous" by the Vatican and was banned in its native Spain for over a decade. At any rate, Buñuel made a variety of films wherever he could in either Mexico, Spain (he returned to direct Tristana in 1970) or elsewhere until his death in 1983 at the age of 83. 

Oddly enough, the ending of the film attracted more attention to it because of what ended up on screen rather than what wasn't seen. When checked for censorship, the ending was one key aspect that needed to be changed from what depicted a character deciding to open a door and close it right behind them...which, well, is certainly different when you consider the actual ending involves characters shuffling cards together. Even knowing that wouldn't prepare you for a film absorbed in vigor and satire for charity in the pious sense. It does not take too long to turn into a show for the macabre within its expressions of desire and a climax that involves, well, a supper that will surely remind folks of what happens when you shine a light on human desires and the imagery that comes with such grotesque nature, such as a crucifix that has a knife in it. The march for spiritualistic charity with the grace of God can only see a clash with the reality that comes in a materialistic world that cannot hide its foundation within the thin face of moral high ground. 90 minutes is more than enough to the indulgences of Buñuel in making a human comedy (whether one is religious or not) that shows futility with such damning effectiveness that asks just what the differences are between those little acts of charity and actual change. With all that in mind, the performances reflect well among the divide of beggars and choosers, as evidenced by the performance by Pinal that reflects upon the loss of one's innocence. She is thrust into a place of brutal honesty when dealing with the company of men that are reflected mostly within Rabal and Rey (the latter is mostly present for the first third of the feature), who each show the inner workings of who they are within how they treat the mansion each inhabit in their time. Calvo represents one of the numerous beggars that come to inhabit the rest of the film, whether that involves men of no sight in themselves (or souls), sores, or people with children to feed. By the time one sees a supper of the grotesque, it is a culmination of such dark amusement to find in the illusions of charity versus human nature. The cynic may not always be right, but one thing that is for certain is that there is no one true way to reaching a person in heart or health; buying a dog off a cart is one thing, not seeing as dog I a cart going the other way is another. In the end, after seeing people for who they are when it comes to giving and taking, one has to make their own path rather than let it fall into the hands of whatever dogma seems to be the right choice. With Buñuel at the helm, you know you are in for a mischievous display to see, and this film handles the task of dark human comedy handily.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Next up: South Korea sees a remake...in color.

One Hundred and One Dalmatians.

Review #1944: One Hundred and One Dalmatians.

Cast: 

Rod Taylor (Pongo), Lisa Daniels and Cate Bauer (Perdita), Betty Lou Gerson (Cruella de Vil / Miss Birdwell), Ben Wright (Roger Radcliffe), Lisa Davis (Anita Radcliffe), Frederick Worlock (Horace Baddun / Inspector Graves), J. Pat O'Malley (Jasper Baddun / Colonel), Martha Wentworth (Nanny / Queenie / Lucy the White Goose), Thurl Ravenscroft (Captain), David Frankham (Sergeant Tibbs), Mimi Gibson (Lucky), Barbara Beaird (Rolly), Mickey Maga (Patch), Sandra Abbott (Penny), Tudor Owen (Old Towser), George Pelling (Danny), and Junius Matthews (Scottie) Directed by Wolfgang Reitherman (#250 - The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, #598 - The Rescuers, #660 - Sleeping Beauty), Clyde Geronimi (#178 - Peter Pan, #373 - Cinderella, #511 - The Three Caballeros, #660, and #683 - Alice in Wonderland) and Hamilton Luske (#178, #373, #683)

Review: 

By the 1950s, Walt Disney and his film studio would enter a time of transition. The animation studio had done six package films from 1942 to 1949 before returning with Cinderella (1950). That same year, Disney would get behind their first live-action effort with Treasure Island, having experimented with a mix of live-action and animation with previous features such as Song of the South (1946). Disney had further ideas beyond films, such as the theme park built in Anaheim, California, a park that bears his name opened to the public in 1955. Sleeping Beauty (1959) was the first animated film in Super Technirama 70 widescreen. The high costs of the film did not help make it a success on release, and Disney had thoughts about closing down the animation department due to costs (the aforementioned Beauty film was made for $6 million, while the resulting Dalmatian film was made for $3.6 million). The movie is an adaptation of The Hundred and One Dalmatians, a 1956 children's novel by Dodie Smith. Disney had bought the rights to doing a film on the novel in 1957 (Smith, a Dalmatian owner, had apparently wrote the book with a secret hope that Disney would make a film of it, as noted in correspondences to Disney). Bill Peet was tasked to write the story for the film. Peet had been involved in the story department for several Disney films since Pinocchio (1940), having started his work at the Disney studio as an "in-betweener" in making up frames of drawings on animated shorts. He was also involved in the character development stage for what became Cruella de Vil along with developing all of the storyboards for the film (when generally an animated film had numerous storyboard artists) while directing the recording of the voices. There was one method to cut costs. This was the first film to be made entirely with a copying technology utilized by the Xerox Corporation. So yes, one took a Xerox camera to get drawings by animators directly to animation cels without needing to do the inking process (no drawings needed to be painted over); the Xerox process had been done in a few small scenes prior to this film. Ken Anderson, a fellow loyal employee of Disney for decades, was art director and production designer on this film. This was the 17th animated film by Disney and the first of three released in the 1960s, aided by the success seen by this film with audiences. A live-action remake was done in 1996, which in turn inspired a sequel four years later and a live-action "prequel" in 2021.

Honestly, the reason I hadn't covered many Disney films over the past few years is because I wanted to make it seem quite special to do one from the studio, which has released 61 animated feature films since 1937. One Hundred and One Dalmatians isn't the best film released by the Disney studio of its era, but it clearly is a charmer. It certainly has conventional techniques in its storytelling that make its 79 minute runtime an interesting presence in the Disney lexicon. Disney did not care much for the look of the film in art because he thought it lost the "fantasy" element, since the line drawings were now being printed on a separate animation cel right before it was laid over the background. But it makes sense for what needs to happen here, with smooth movement that is generally warm and inviting in a story about kidnapping pets to turn into coats. The voice talent is mostly for the animals than the humans, probably because the casting wanted deep voices for the former to begin with. Taylor had one notable film credit with The Time Machine (1960), although he had prior extensive experience in radio work in his native Australia. He makes a solid presence as the leader of the dog bunch that makes for a few chuckles. Daniels and Bauer split the voice role because Daniels had left production months into voicing - honestly, I couldn't quite tell the difference, but each do fine in grace to match with Taylor. Wright and Davis make decent human focuses to go with the proceedings, but obviously Gerson is the general highlight, utilizing a choice of voice that was meant to be a "phony theatrical voice, someone who's set sail from New York but hasn't quite reached England"- this works well in over-the-top villainy that is distinct and worth remembering, while Worlock and O'Malley make neat comic relief. The other voices are used for moments from time to time involving general animal amusement, such as communicating great distances with barks or cows giving milk to hungry dogs. This was the last directorial effort for Luske, a Disney mainstay for two decades who had one more highlight with his work on Mary Poppins (1964), which saw him direct the animated sequence that saw him awarded an Academy Award for Best Visual Effects; Luske died at the age of 64 in 1968. This was also the final directorial effort by Geronimi, who had left Disney for UPA and television in 1959. Reitherman, who directed his first film with Sleeping Beauty (1959), would direct a handful of Disney features for the next 15 years. As a whole, it is a nice and light feature, packed with fair adventure and charm that one would hope from a film like this, one that shows landscapes with vast curiosity just as much as it shows neat adventure with dogs in contemporary times. It's a cute little good movie, and that makes it something special even after six decades.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, folks. With this 163rd review, I have matched 2021 in the amount of films spotlighted on Movie Night. For the sixth time in the history of Movie Night (12/20/2010-present, 4,387 days if you want to be precise), there was over 150 reviews in one year, and this doesn't even include the Redux Reviews, for which there were sixteen of them. The next couple of months will be interesting ones, seeing the second rendition of New Directors Month in January along with the third editions of Black History Month (February) and Women's History Month (March). Oh, and a certain milestone is coming. We'll see a few more reviews over the final week of 2022; there has been a certain pattern with these reviews to cover a few names neglected over the past few years, so we shall see what is next...

The Innocents (1961).

Review #1911: The Innocents.

 

Cast: 

Deborah Kerr (Miss Giddens), Peter Wyngarde (Peter Quint), Megs Jenkins (Mrs. Grose), Michael Redgrave (The Uncle), Martin Stephens (Miles), Pamela Franklin (Flora), Clytie Jessop (Miss Mary Jessel), and Isla Cameron (Anna) Directed by Jack Clayton.

Review: 

Admittedly, there are films that work best when considered for how they can cultivate atmosphere through dedicated execution, which generally happen in horror. Of course, some horror films get an interesting reputation through whosever eyes are viewing it. I was a bit curious about this film, if only because sometimes I worry a movie gets a good reputation in horror when it comes to ghost stories, real or not. This was the film to be adapted from The Turn of the Screw, an 1898 novella written by Henry James. However, it also utilizes text from the 1950 screen play (called The Innocents, which had Beatrice Straight and Peggy Feury as the star in separate theatre runs) that had been written by William Archibald. Archibald wrote the original screenplay for the film, but Clayton hired Truman Capote and John Mortimer to do re-writes because he wanted a script a bit more ambiguous on whether the ghosts were real or not. This was the third film script that had Capote as a writer. Most will know him as the writer of novels of fiction and nonfiction such as In Cold Blood (which he was in the middle of writing when approached by Clayton) but he did occasionally write for films, which included Beat the Devil (1953) and Terminal Station (1953). Mortimer was brought in to deliver a Victorian polish to the dialogue, but the film is generally thought of as having the spirit of Capote (he later described reading the novella as one without a plot). This was the second of seven films directed by Jack Clayton, who had worked a variety of studio jobs such as tea boy and editor before getting his chance to direct. The next adaptation of the material was in The Nightcomers (1971), which acted as a "prequel", and there have almost been as many television adaptations (four) than films (five).

Sure, it is possible to read a certain kind of repression and Freudian elements in a story of psychological terror. Oh sure, you could ask yourself if the ghosts are real or not, but I'll just go with the idea that they are, if only because I did not come to a ghost movie to watch a movie without a ghost (you can play the ambiguity card for only so long). However, it is the question of whether the kids are in danger or not that ends up being a really good question to think about. Besides, the movie is pretty good regardless of how you choose to view it, headlined by a tremendous performance by Kerr and an efficient pace at 99 minutes. It makes for an elegant and unnerving film, straddling itself in seeping paranoia that makes things not exactly what they seem. It has the touch of uncertainty that would be rivaled in films such as The Haunting (1963), if not topped. The cinematography was done by Freddie Francis, who had won an Academy Award for his work in Sons and Lovers (1960) before becoming a director the year after the release of this film. He helped to dissuade Clayton's annoyance at 20th Century Fox insisting that the film be shot in CinemaScope, a bigger aspect ratio than the usual standard. Francis used the wide space for shadows to make for an uneasy movie by doing things such as painting the edges of the lenses and bright lighting, and all of this works out to the advantage of the movie, although one of its sticking points ends up being a singing of "O Willow Waly" (which is actually sung by Isla Cameron) that happens from time to time. There are three key actors here: Kerr and the two children with Stephens and Franklin (Wyngarde doesn't speak, Redgrave is only in one scene and Jenkins provides some support). Kerr does tremendous here, vulnerable in all the right aspects when it comes to Victorian standards that generates interest in how one views her perspective in terms of what is seen and what isn't seen from the doubts exhibited. Stephens (known for this and Village of the Damned before becoming an architect) and Franklin (screen debut) do well, pulling one into the idea of innocence that imprints well on your mind that dawdles on the little things, such as how they interact with Kerr, such as the little embrace Stephens does with Kerr or the little moment Franklin shares when arising from bed late on a windy night (with Kerr tossing and turning) - whether they are just kids being kids or possibly possessed is up to you to squirm over. Jenkins proves quite fretful enough to support the core cast, wavering in the right points needed while Wyngarde makes a quiet terror anytime he looms for moments on screen. The climax is delicately handled to the right touch of what is needed from the source material while also circling back to its opening (writhing hands in a dark background) in the right execution. As a whole, the movie is quite eerie and effective in telling a good ghost story with a dance of ambiguity that results in a generally effective piece of looming terror fit for the patient horror eyes, one where not every explanation is needed to make the pieces fit right. 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The Connection (1961).

Review #1813: The Connection.

Cast: 

Warren Finnerty (Leach), Jerome Raphael (Solly), Garry Goodrow (Ernie), Jim Anderson (Sam), Carl Lee (Cowboy), Barbara Winchester (Sister Salvation), Henry Proach (Harry), Roscoe Lee Browne (J. J. Burden), William Redfield (Jim Dunn), with Freddie Redd (Piano Player), Jackie McLean (Sax Player), Larry Richie (Drummer), and Michael Mattos (Bass Player) Directed and Edited by Shirley Clarke.

Review: 

"When I did The Connection, which was about junkies, I knew nothing about junk and cared less. It was a symbol--people who are on the outside. I always felt alone, and on the outside of the culture that I was in. I grew up in a time when women weren't running things. They still aren't."

You bet it was time to do something a bit more experimental when it comes to focusing on women directors. Shirley Clarke is surely deserving of curiosity, and she would cultivate a career of three decades in her own way. For one, she was actually interested in dance growing up as a child in New York City; she was the daughter of a office furniture manufacturer (and also a bully, as noted by her sister Elaine Dundy). She studied dance at Stephens College, Johns Hopkins University, Bennington College, and the University of North Carolina. Her first film would be in 1953 with Dance in the Sun; the short film was an adaptation of dance choreography. Her influences in becoming a director were films such as The Quiet One (1948, directed by Sidney Meyers), In the Street (1948, done by James Agee, Helen Levitt, and Janice Loeb), and Roberto Rossellini's Neorealist works (particularly Rome, Open City). She would gradually move into other subjects (with concurrent studying at the City College of New York in the mid 1950s), with Skyscraper (1959) being one notable work from that era; that film (in collaboration with Willard Van Dyke and Irving Jacoby) involved the construction of the 660 Fifth Avenue skyscraper. The Connection (1961) was Clarke's first feature-length film, and it was an adaptation of the 1959 play of the same name (originally produced by the Living Theater) by Jack Gelber, who would adapt the material for use in this film. Both play and movie would attract controversy; the plot focuses on the lives of heroin-addicted jazz musicians, and the film would attract further controversy because of its use of an obscene word (the word is "shit", used to describe heroin) that the state of New York banned for indecency; the lack of license did not stop attempts to screen the film anyway, but the police stepped in after it had screened twice, but the film was not favored by audiences (with reviews being more positive abroad than in New York). At any rate, Clarke would continue to make films involving characters perceived to live in the margins, such as with The Cool World (1963 and Portrait of Jason (1967) while later experimenting with video and lecturing until her death in 1997 at the age of 77, and she is surely deserving of attention with her place in cinema. Take it this way: when John Cassavetes directed his first film in Shadows (a key film within American independent cinema done in 1959), he did so with a 16mm camera that he borrowed from Clarke. 

Oh, the experimental part. Well, it is one of the earliest examples of a "found footage" film, predating the dozens of found footage films that are generally used for horror. This is stated in the opening title card, which states that it is the "result" of footage assembled by a cameraman working for a missing documentary filmmaker (the play in comparison was a "play within a play", albeit with a few more characters). Clarke co-produced and edited the film, which takes place primarily on one set (designed by Richard Silbert) with two cameras that feature most of the cast from the original play. The film is whatever you think it is, whether involving drug addiction, or what Clarke believed it to be about with alienation.  It is a wonderful achievement, one that is a representation of the avant-garde scene in all of its curious aspects without becoming engulfed in heavy-handed bloat. It is the logical extension of cinema verité within its frank depiction of American sensibilities in the era of the Beat Generation in the 1960s with a mood of "natural acting". With a mix of improvised acting, jump-cuts, and a simple plot, one will have quite a ball with a film that is basically like a jazz composition. It is everything and nothing you might expect, and the performers all do excellent jobs that draw you in from the jump without letting go. Finnerty was the one member of the cast recognized for his acting in the play (when it was on off-Broadway), and it shouldn't be surprising that he carries the film as one of the primary burning cinders that hold the film for such interest with his blazing sarcasm. Goodrow is also quite worthy in his sniveling human element, which Raphael and Anderson prove to be an interesting pair in varying moods when on/off their element (note the differences between being "on" and "off", after all). Lee displays casual charm when he arrives on screen that makes him quite captivating (incidentally, Winchester is paired with Lee for a time as an person of faith who doesn't see these folks for who they are, which is interesting). Browne (likely the most known of the actors in the film, since he had a career of over four decades) doesn't have much to say within time spent in either the background or within shots without Redfield. Of course, Redfield proves splendid within self-serving amusement too, while the quartet of jazz players accompany the film to great effect. No one ever becomes just a "character", since it has that touch of honesty with alienated people searching for the next certain experience. Really this could be about other addictions, but it also could be about any kind of fragmented people on the outside. I think in that regard the movie is a complete success when it comes to a movie that confronts you without any sort of qualms or compromises.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: We will take a momentary detour because of the obligation to detail thoughts on The Batman (2022), which happened to come out this month. As such, Women Directors Month will resume after that review with...

Wings (1966).

The Deadly Companions.

Review #1685: The Deadly Companions.

Cast: 

Maureen O'Hara (Kit Tilden), Brian Keith (Yellowleg), Steve Cochran (Billy Keplinger), Chill Wills (Turk), Strother Martin (Parson), Will Wright (Doctor Acton), Jim O'Hara (Cal, General Store), Peter O'Crotty (Mayor of Hila City), and Billy Vaughan (Mead Tildon Jr) Directed by Sam Peckinpah (#590 - Ride the High Country, #591 - The Wild Bunch, #944 - Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, and #1439 - Straw Dogs)

Review: 

"It wasn’t the best deal in the world: I wanted to make a picture and this guy wanted to push me around. The script needed lots of work, but I’d get told to go back in my corner. Brian knew we were in trouble, so between us we tried to give the thing some dramatic sense. The result was that all of his scenes worked, while all of hers were dead. I found out about producers, all right."

Would you believe that this is the directorial debut of Sam Peckinpah? One might find themselves in for a bit of a surprise with how the film career of this esteemed director began, because it started in the realm that he was already quite familiar with: the western. In the sixty years that has followed the film's release, it is likely the least known of his fourteen directorial efforts for the man soon to be known as "Bloody Sam". One doesn't have to repeat themselves in describing the background of one of the most polarizing directors to come out of the Western landscape to just say that he was a man who lived on his own terms, hard but fierce in his vision that matched a Marine background and a childhood spent on the ranch. When asked what type of movies he liked, he once stated that the only movies he wanted to like are his own movies, one that detested every good filmmaker (of course, Peckinpah also stated that Ross Hunter was his idol because he matched the innocuous directors he didn't detest, so there's that). The Fresno native had drifted between film and television in minor but key roles before getting into the writing circuit in 1955 with Gunsmoke, the definitive television series of the Western that ran for 20 years. At any rate, Peckinpah wrote the gamut in the era of the Western television series (Have Gun - Will Travel, The Rifleman, Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theatre, you get the idea), and he even submitted a script that would be cobbled together into One-Eyed Jacks (released the same year as this film and one that Peckinpah blamed Brando for messing it up). However, it all came to a head with a show that he would create with The Westerner in 1960, which came from an episode that Peckinpah had directed and written for the aforementioned Theatre show (essentially serving as a pilot). The show starred Brian Keith, who dabbled in television alongside character roles in film (interestingly, his most famous roles wound up being family affairs with The Parent Trap (1960) and Family Affair (1966-71)). He would direct six of the episodes while also writing for five of them. The series would last thirteen episodes (two months), killed due to bad ratings, but he received good notices for his efforts (when recommended for Ride the High Country, the producer watched the show and liked what he saw). At any rate, it was the good word that Keith put in for him that helped the 36-year old Peckinpah when it came time for the production of this film. Enter O'Hara. This was a family affair for O'Hara, since her brother Charles B. Fitzsimmons served as producer. He was the younger brother of O'Hara (who in that Hollywood tradition had gone another name) that dabbled in acting for a decade after having studied law and acting in the theatre in his native country before deciding to go into producing, with this being his debut. The source material used for the film was a novel called Yellowleg by A. S. Fleischman (he was born Avron Zalmon Fleischman before changing his name to Albert Sidney Fleischman), for which Flesichman adapted to the screen himself. He was familiar with Hollywood ever since his work Blood Alley (1955) was turned into a film, for which he wrote for. Technically this is an adaptation, as the novel had been written during pre-production, selling hundreds of thousands of copies in a few months.

The easiest thing to get out of the way is that this is widely available to watch because it is in the public domain, because the copyright notice was somehow not put onto the film. Making sure to find a good quality copy is always key, so imagine how that feels for a Western. The next thing to say is that this was one of the few films the director would make where he had no say in the writing (a process he was quoted later as hating) or final cut privilege. O'Hara, the last surviving actress of the cast, noted in her autobiography about the strange time she had with the director, calling him "one of the strangest and most objectionable people I had ever worked with." It certainly seems like the kind of unassuming kind of movie to think about briefly in the careers of its main stars and group, but one might find something worth diving into when it comes to a movie that is fairly solid in building a tense little thriller with a quartet not usually put together like this for the kind of film seen in its day. This is of course a film that involves a trip to bury a child in native territory that died because of a failed bank robbery. Peckinpah was quoted as loving outsiders, ones that are independent to the frontier, a sort of "weakness for losers on a grand scale", if you will. There are shades of that present within what you see from each of the four main actors to focus on, whether that means a man with quiet guilt and a ulterior motive, or a deserter with grand delusions, or a offbeat gunslinger, or a widow that is stubborn enough to persist through to the end goal. For a film that was basically a low-budget O'Hara + Keith vehicle, the latter seems to have a bit more to do when it comes to generating presence beyond something you might read in a short novel, but each do what they need to do as the main duo that spend quite a bit of time with each other. Wills was a regular character presence for numerous years, but it is interesting to see him with a adversarial role here, one that has odd designs for an army of his own to go with Freedonia, but he still seems like a good threat when paired with the showy Cochran (who made just three more movies before his life was cut short at the age of 48 in 1965), who makes for a worthy ooze presence. It doesn't play for any obvious clichés when it comes to adversaries (whether threats from internal strife or natives), so one shouldn't expect any sort of fantastical movements or rapid pacing. It takes its 93 minutes carefully for a look into the lives of flawed people in the West that Peckinpah would hone to greater results within his career. It may not be a great understated gem, but it certainly merits a look into what makes a director come into their own, if not at least before one goes on to see just what Sam Peckinpah could do when he had the freedom to tell the story he wanted to show. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Creature from the Haunted Sea.

Review #1684: Creature from the Haunted Sea.

Cast: 

Antony Carbone (Renzo Capetto), Betsy Jones-Moreland (Mary-Belle Monahan), Robert Towne (Sparks Moran / Agent XK150 / Narrator), Beach Dickerson (Pete Peterson Jr), Robert Bean (Happy Jack Monahan), Esther Sandoval (Porcina Perez), Sonia Noemí González (Mango Perez), Edmundo Rivera Álvarez (General Tostada), Terry Nevin (Colonel Cabeza Grande), Blanquita Romero (Carmelita Rodriguez), and Jaclyn Hellman (Agent XK-120) Produced and Directed by Roger Corman (#368 - The Little Shop of Horrors, #684 - It Conquered the World, #852 - The Terror, #931 - Not of This Earth, #1007 - Attack of the Crab Monsters, #1039 - Five Guns West, #1042 - War of the Satellites, #1136 - Gas-s-s-s, #1147 - X: The Man with the X-ray Eyes, #1186 - A Bucket of Blood, #1423 - The Wild Angels, #1425 - The St. Valentine's Day Massacre, and #1674 - Machine-Gun Kelly)

Review: 

In his autobiography How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood And Never Lost a Dime, Corman briefly talked about the movie, one that came about when in production for filming Last Woman on Earth and Battle of Blood Island (he directed the former while producing the latter), and it should also be mentioned that money for this film came from stuff left that wasn't used for The Wild Ride (1960). This movie and the aforementioned Earth film share the same trio of actors of stars with Carbone, Jones-Moreland, and Towne. He discovered that there were tax incentives available for "manufacturing" in Puerto Rico, which included moviemaking. During the two-week shoot for the aforementioned Earth film, he contacted Charles B. Griffith about making him a script. Charles B. Griffith had written the scripts for a variety of films for Corman, such as Naked Paradise (1957) and Beast from Haunted Cave (1959), and this film has a few similarities to those; he was told to make a comedy-horror movie ripe for filming, complete with having a week to do it, although Corman dictated the ending (incidentally, each film had one day of preproduction). Believe it or not, he actually intended to have a small part in the film, telling Griffith to write a small part with Happy Jack; Griffith responded by making a part with mood swings that Corman noticed he couldn't do, so he gave it to a performer that had worked on one of Corman's productions in Robert Bean (he also got to play the Creature), one that was used for animal noises while also being the boom mic operator.

The movie begins with probably the most interesting moment with an animation sequence directed by Monte Hellman (who coincidentally was the director of Beast from Haunted Cave), one of the numerous folks who collaborated with Corman that gave them a start in filmmaking. So yes, Puerto Rico is doubling for Cuba, and the plot involves a gambler helping exiled Cubans with getting a fortune of gold out of the country before his crew plans to take down the group with a cover story of a mythical monster. Somewhere in all of that is an American secret agent that narrates the movie that falls in with the group and fails to do anything of importance because he bumbles in a crush on one of the criminals while others fall in with the natives. Technically, since the movie never seems like a real movie at any point, this should be interesting. Honestly though, its energy level really matches The Fast and the Furious (1954) in true average value. Carbone might sound like Humphrey Bogart, but it doesn't make him seem anything other than mildly bemused to be standing with a semi-comedy/thriller. Jones-Moreland thought it sounded better as just a takeoff on what Corman had done before, but she felt it got lost somewhere in the middle, and she is quoted as wishing she had never heard of it. That is more words to use for her than the performance, which is just okay. Robert Towne (future writer of films such as Chinatown) stars as one of the actors, although he is credited as Edward Wain. He had first met Roger Corman when each were in an acting class together (taught by Jeff Corey); never one to miss giving a chance to untested individuals, Towne wrote for Corman with the film Last Woman on Earth in 1960 (he would also write for Corman with The Tomb of Ligeia four years later). The costs for bringing him along with the actors would have meant Towne would need to be hired as an actor by Corman, so he did so, taking the trip to Puerto Rico. Technically speaking, he reminds me of a fluky parody of a noir character, but he isn't exactly Don Adams, if you know what I mean. At least Bean gets to make a bunch of noises. The language gags (i.e., look up some of the phrases translated from Spanish to English) are okay, but there isn't exactly anything particularly big to standout for fun.

The costume was designed by Beach Dickerson, which was assembled from a collection of helmets, a wetsuit, moss, Brillo pads, tennis & ping-pong balls, pipe-cleaner claws, and oilcloth that came out to $150. Honestly, the only reason to really see the movie is to see just how amusing the costume ultimately turns out, even though you really don't see it much in 75 minutes of run-time. I wonder if it would be a better movie in terms of "laughs" if you saw the monster more. It isn't exactly that funny of a movie anyway, so one might as well just take amusement at the dopey prop, but there is a lack of focus here that reminds one of more interesting times with films like Attack of the Crab Monsters (1957), A Bucket of Blood (1959) or the obvious one in The Little Shop of Horrors (1960; at least no one will try to make an inferior musical this time around). Somehow, the advertising failed the movie, because it promoted the thriller aspects more so than the comedy, but Corman is the ultimate chameleon filmmaker, honing to the tastes of what seems like a good idea, whether that involves the works of Edgar Allan Poe or producing other varied works. The movie isn't good at any real consistent point, but folks wanting to watch a silly Corman product will not mind too much, as long as they are patient enough to go through some flaky comedy to get to its monster.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

El Cid.

Review #1408: El Cid.

Cast: 
Charlton Heston (Don Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, El Cid), Sophia Loren (Doña Ximena), Herbert Lom (Ben Yusuf), Raf Vallone (García Ordóñez), Geneviève Page (Doña Urraca), John Fraser (Alfonso VI, King of Castile), Douglas Wilmer (Al-Mu'tamin, Emir of Zaragoza), Frank Thring (Al-Kadir, Emir of Valencia), Michael Hordern (Don Diego), Andrew Cruickshank (Count Gormaz), Gary Raymond (Prince Sancho), Ralph Truman (King Ferdinand), and Massimo Serato (Fañez) Directed by Anthony Mann (#947 - He Walked by Night)

Review: 
"I'm not a genius, I'm a worker."

Epic films, when in the right hands, can prove to be entertaining spectacles that make one interested in the subject matter or in its setting. Anthony Mann served to be a good choice to make an epic film, despite having most of his work being film noirs and westerns. Mann found his first calling with the theatre as an actor and eventually as director. After some work in the Theatre Guild and the WPA Federal Theatre Project, he was hired by David O. Selznick to scout talent and serve as casting and screen test director, doing so for films like Gone with the Wind (1939). After a few years of assistant directing, he made his debut as main director in Dr. Broadway (1942). He directed B-movies (mostly noirs and dramas) for numerous studios such as Paramount Pictures, RKO, and Eagle-Lion in his early years, with highlights being T-Men (1947), Raw Deal (1948) and un-credited work on He Walked by Night (1948). He soon added Westerns to his foray with Winchester '73 (1950), which would be the first of his with James Stewart. This was the fourth-to-last film (along with his last major success) of a career that spanned over thirty films in 26 years before suffering a heart attack at the age of 60. This film was produced by Samuel Bronston, who was behind a few historical epics such as John Paul Jones (1959), King of Kings (1961), 55 Days at Peking (1963, also starring Heston) and The Fall of the Roman Empire (1964, also directed by Mann and starring Loren).

It should figure that theatre-turned film star Heston would star in an epic like this, since a selection of his memorable films over a career that spanned six decades and dozens of movies were from epics like The Ten Commandments (1956), The Big Country (1958), and Ben-Hur (1959). Accompanying him is international star Loren, who came from poverty as a child to beauty pageant participant and eventual actress who became the first thespian to win an Academy Award for a non-English language performance with Two Women (1960). When the film isn't spending time on its sets or setting up its battles with bombastic nature, Heston and Loren are present to make a fair couple of passion to look upon a film that spans years and sometimes seems to feel like it too. This is a loose depiction of El Cid, the celebrated national hero of Spain that lived in the eleventh century, which has proven a source for numerous works such as the epic poem El Cantar de Mio Cid, and noted historian Ramón Menéndez Pidal was a consultant on the film. There is plenty of time to spend in three hours with something that wants to depict honor and legend that makes for a diverting time that keeps its conflicts in check without too much confusion or becoming a shell of itself and seeming outdated. It won't win all the credit for complete accuracy to history (such as the actual fate of El Cid), but the legend still presents itself with enough power from this film to inspire further interest regardless. Heston and Loren did not get along too well in making the film, but they still manage to come off together decently, perhaps in part because of that tension that carries over to a good chunk of its first half, and it eventually ekes its way out of seeming wooden on both sides, with Heston being a towering presence and Loren being a timeless figure of devotedness. The rest of the actors fall in line just as well, but the true highlight is undoubtedly the battle sequences. Any time that one gets to see a tremendous execution of horses and knights is a good one to have, with the jousting sequence being a fun one to view especially. The strangest thing is not the fact that Heston was unimpressed by the film (with some of that reason being Mann's insistence on shooting the battles himself), it was the fact that he felt that director best suited for the film was William Wyler, while conversely feeling that Mann would have been the better choice for Ben-Hur (1959). Regardless of that fact, one cannot deny that this is a fair epic to stand for its era, mixing spectacle and romance with a capable director and stars to make it a useful experience to view once as a showing of a tale worth looking into further.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.