The Story of a Three-Day Pass.

Review #2354: The Story of a Three-Day Pass.

Cast: 

Harry Baird (Turner), Nicole Berger (Miriam), and Hal Brav (Turner's Captain) Written and Directed by Melvin Van Peebles (#1970 - Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song and #2184 - Watermelon Man)

Review: 

"I never did decide to become a director. That’s very flattering and nice, but I never decided to become a director. I just decided to show folks, especially minorities, like I saw them, not like they kept being shown around in cinema."

Melvin Van Peebles had made a handful of short films and looked for a job in Hollywood. He received a job offer as an Elevator operator or dancer. He elected to go to Amsterdam to study for a PHD in astronomy (as one does when having the GI Bill). But his films got shown in France (as aided by avantgarde ciné-club founder Amos Vogel) that had attracted curiosity. He moved to France and taught the language to himself. Evidently, he found that he could get a temporary director's card to bring one's work to the screen. He became a journalist and published his own novels before getting the director's card to bring one of his works to fruition with La Permission (which he wrote as a screen treatment and published as a novel before the film was released). He got enough funding by the French government and shot it in six weeks. The movie initially premiered at the San Francisco Film Festival (representing France) in October of 1967 before getting a release in later months. The film had a star-crossed starring duo. It was the last movie role of Berger, who had performed in film in her native France for a handful of years before suffering a tragic car accident that saw her die at the age of 32 in April of 1967. Baird (born in British Guiana and educated in Canada and Britian) had done a handful of movies and TV since the late 1950s but this was his one notable lead role prior to glaucoma sidelining him by the 1970s and his death in 2005 at the age of 73. The movie attracted attention in Hollywood (go figure) and from that Van Peebles got an offer to do Watermelon Man, and the rest is history.

It is a curious love story, mainly because it features flawed beings trying waywardly to cope with the idea of being with anyone. The nightclub sequence in which one gets to see quite the curious shot of our lead has to be seen to be believed in the apparent talent of its director, complete with expectation versus the actual reality. It isn't too far from a French New Wave movie when you get down to it. Baird and Berger are a curious pair to see play out, namely because they each have scenes where they are imagining the other in scenarios distinctly different from each other (one as an aristocrat and the other as a tribal man). The inner voice of Baird talks at times during the film about the conflict that arises with staying in the system (the military - incidentally, Van Peebles served in the Air Force) in the face of nagging difficulties. Berger is shaky in gracefulness that comes with one's own challenges in ambition versus reality, particularly since they only see Baird through a specific prism that can only be surprised at how Baird reacts to specific incidents because of his race (such as being called a certain phrase or being seen by his white comrades). Brav makes for an effective side presence in condescending authority when it comes to trust (imagine saying any of what is heard for a newly "promoted" person). Their double act together can only go so far in a time and place that still reminds them of who they are - one black, one white, complete with a varied understanding of oneself and the languages (you get both English and French). There is no hope of just having an easy out (nothing such as Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, for example) within a movie that can be tender just as much as it can be subversive. As a whole, it shows the potential of its director in what one can accomplish with a cast and style all to oneself. 

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Point Blank.

Review #2224: Point Blank.

Cast: 

Lee Marvin (Walker), Angie Dickinson (Chris), Keenan Wynn (Yost), Carroll O'Connor (Brewster), Lloyd Bochner (Frederick Carter), Michael Strong (Stegman), John Vernon (Mal Reese), Sharon Acker (Lynne), James B. Sikking (hired gun), and Sandra Warner (waitress) Directed by John Boorman (#565 - Zardoz, #975 - Deliverance, #1210 - Excalibur, #1915 - Exorcist II: The Heretic)

Review: 

"I don't think it does, but what it is, is what you see." - John Boorman

There was a time where a star could just say to let the director get his privileges right then and there. John Boorman had made his film debut with Catch Us If You Can (known as Having a Wild Weekend in the U.S.). That movie was a vehicle for the band The Dave Clark Five that had a few good notices. Anyway, Boorman was sent by who else but Irwin Winkler (producer of Double Trouble, soon to be released in 1967 and, well, the Rocky films) to meet Lee Marvin when the latter was in the midst of filming of The Dirty Dozen (also released in 1967) because Winkler was interested in having Marvin read for a script he had seen. Boorman (who was interested in making more ambitious films in Hollywood) and Marvin didn't really care for the script but were intrigued by the lead character. Anyway, Marvin bargained for approval of the script and cast in order to want to star in the film, which would be done by MGM and with those privileges granted to him, he immediately deferred it to Boorman. Officially the script was credited to Alexander Jacobs (future writer of one more Boorman film with Hell in the Pacific), David Newhouse, and Rafe Newhouse, but Boorman and Marvin essentially cultivated their own vision of what is basically a loose adaptation of the 1962 novel The Hunter, as written by Donald E. Westlake (writing under the name Richard Stark). Westlake would write two dozen books with the lead character (referred to as "Parker") prior to his death in 2008. It actually wasn't the first adaptation of a Westlake novel, as Jean-Luc Godard did a loose unauthorized adaptation of one of Westlake's other novels to mash up with The Big Sleep (1946) for what was called Made in U.S.A (1966). In 1999, a loose remake was done (i.e. a second adaptation of the book that renamed the character to Porter) that had Mel Gibson play the lead in what was called Payback, which has two distinct versions (as provided by its director in 2006). Boorman made a crack about how the script for that film seemed to resemble the one he and Marvin threw out.

There is an alluring quality to be found in its elusive energy within a clearcut revenge thriller. It is the kind of film where dream and memory really could be more than meets the eye. It is a sleek feature packed with a grimly captured atmosphere with a lead actor clearly ready to meet the challenge in basically playing a myth of a figure. The movie was a modest success with audiences and has since become a cult classic with plenty of admirers, theories and studies about it. Of course one could ask Marvin about what he thought about seeing it on screen around the time of the 1980s: he found it "very unpleasant", one made "for the violence" that saw him shocked at what was shown, particularly from himself, with him ending that thought by stating, "See, there is the fright; and this is why I think guys back off eventually. They say, 'No, I'm not going to put myself to those demons again.' The demon being the self." I probably should see more Marvin films, but even I know his hard-lined appeal from the jump of a film where he practically glides in violence, and it perhaps best comes out in the sequence (involving where the money went) where he doesn't talk (as guided to that point by Marvin) and instead lets Acker essentially ask and answer the questions herself. The fact that he is surrounded by a tremendous supporting cast helps matters in a way that one could only, well, dream, particularly with the grace of Dickinson and the magnetic slime of both Vernon and O'Connor (each had varying level of experience in films and theater, but the former is given the "Introducing" credit) to go with Wynn and his own type of foreground expressive presence. This is a 92-minute film that is uptight to the core that has boiling dedication seen within distinct sounds and color (take a look at the scene of Marvin just walking and see what I mean). By the time the film departs, one knows they have watched a worthwhile noir drenched in commitment from cast and crew for a pretty good time.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Poor Cow.

Review #2169: Poor Cow.

Cast: 

Carol White (Joy), Terence Stamp (Dave Fuller), John Bindon (Tom), Queenie Watts (Aunt Emm), Kate Williams (Beryl), Billy Murray (Tom's mate), Ken Campbell (Mr Jacks), Tony Selby (Customer in Pub), and Anna Karen (Neighbour) Directed by Ken Loach.

Review: 

Really it shouldn't be a surprise to see another graduate of the dramatic arts reach film with "kitchen sink" dramas, and it seems oddly timely as Ken Loach apparently has released his last film as a director just a few months ago. Born in Nuneaton, Warwickshire (also just known as "The Midlands") in England to an electrician father and a hairdresser mother, Loach had ideas of going for law (but also having the itch to act) as a youth, even after being part of the Royal Air Force. He did so at Oxford University, where the itch to act grew into the realization to have a future in the theatre, complete with being a part of the "Experimental Theatre Club". Eventually, he made his way to directing for BBC Television, which involved a handful of plays for The Wednesday Play such as "Up the Junction" and Cathy Come Home" (each featuring Cathy White as the lead) is likely the most noted of those works. He had been inspired by his favorites of that time in the Czech New Wave and Italian Neorealism when it came to shaping his work, when it came to "people are just being, not performing" (that aforementioned play had a great deal of improvised scenes, such as the ending with select members of the public, for example). The film that became his first as a feature director was based on the novel of the same name by Nell Dunn (who had written the "Up the Junction" book and subsequent TV adaptation; she noted enjoying the lead character of this film years later). Loach and Dunn collaborated on the screenplay for the film. Loach's enjoyment of filming the previous play with White made it pretty easy to have her in the lead role for this film, which had a good deal of improvisation for filming (complete with using a handful of one takes). The film was a general hit, but his next effort with Kes in 1969 became his hallmark feature in a career that had highs and lows (distribution or not) in films and the occasional documentary that generally involved issues near and dear to him and his socialist leanings.

For the most part, this works out to a mostly solid trip with the drippings of social realism and lyrical nature that goes through the long and winding road of 101 minutes in the realm of wavering decisions made by people left to fend for themselves in a changing world. It strums along with occasional music from Donovan for that type of empathy that can only come from folks who know it is better to let the ride go through all the paths required for a decent experience that makes some irreverent observations. It is like a melody of malaise that is both time capsule and sticking point of the now for what works out most of the time in that one particular target of spinning drama, with White (who with performances such as this had a brief run in building a star) in the middle of it. One can only handle so much as a person that can only go where they can go as a woman on the lower rungs of the has-beens and never-weres (if she is the "poor cow", imagine the term one goes with for men that might as well be on the farm). She handles this wandering pursuit of things and other associated items (such as say, a growing child or drifting tastes for how other men feel) in that sense of passiveness and illusions, where the only idea of happiness comes with that spontaneous and confused whirlwind chemistry with Stamp (who isn't as nearly involved in the latter parts of the film by design). I particularly like that scene in bold faced realities where he is sharing snippets of a robbery job that he tried doing only to reveal just how deluded it got (a beating rather than a skirmish). By default, they are the most interesting presences, because life only gives you one or two people that perhaps might spring interest in the odd lives teetering in squalor, whether that involves the pathetic in enablers or abusers. It is a mess of a movie by design, which will result in varied interest from those who end up viewing it, for better or worse. At any rate, it was a useful first start for a career director in Loach who continued to strive for further films in his own way of naturalism and messaging that comes and goes to those who know where to look.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.
Next up: Gary Ross and The Hunger Games

This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse.

Review #2109: This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse.

Cast: 

José Mojica Marins (Zé do Caixão), Tina Wohlers (Laura), Nadia Freitas (Marcia), Antonio Fracari (Truncador), Nivaldo Lima (Bruno), Roque Rodrigues (The Coronel), with Esmeralda Ruchel, Paula Ramos, and Tania Mendonça. Directed by José Mojica Marins.

Review: 

I'm sure you remember At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul (1963). That was the first film crafted by Jose Mojica Marins with the character of "Coffin Joe", who has been cited in some circles as Brazil's boogeyman. He had first directed films with the 1958 adventure Adventurer's Fate, but the most noted film he ever did came because of a nightmare of a figure dragging him to a cemetery with his headstone, and I'm sure you know the rest of a character that struck distinctly in the Roman Catholic dominant Brazil, where reason and materialism is all that matters to him when it comes to the quest to make "the continuation of blood" by finding that perfect woman to procreate with (the desperate are never as odd as the ones who want an equal for sex, one wonders); the sequel continues right where the first left off with him surviving the disfigurement that happened when he messed with a few lives (the reason I did a recap is because the last I saw of Joe in film was three years ago). The despising of the weak (not children, naturally) is present here again. The film (known as Esta Noite Encarnarei no Teu Cadáver in its native Brazil) was written by Aldenora De Sa Porto and José Mojica Marins. The character of Coffin Joe returned as the segment host for the 1968 anthology film The Strange World of Coffin Joe and then appeared in various other films directed by Marins, such as Awakening of the Beast (1970), where he is being hallucinated by folks taking LSD and looking at a movie poster before Embodiment of Evil (2008) would be the true return and swansong for the character.

Honestly, the film is not nearly as interesting as the original film, probably because of the middling ending that was apparently foisted upon Marins by the censors that had the main character convert in the face of salvation for the climax. No, really. But at least one has some fun with Coffin Joe and his particular habits of women-shopping (at one time, to test a bunch of women he kidnapped about toughness, he lets out a whole bunch of spiders) beforehand to make a useful film with its own particular surprises. You get to see a depiction of Hell, for one thing, and it really goes to show that a low budget doesn't always hinder the vision of folks in making something look terrifying. It probably helps to see bodies about in color, if you think about it. Marins has not lost his edge in this sequel, which already had him murder quite a few people in the first only to see him wax about his ideals while subjecting people to tests for their lives (oh but where is one's God kind of stuff) that is entertainingly amoral as can be. Him and Wohlers made a delightful pairing of offbeat slick nature that can seemingly go only one way in the eyes of God and the devil (in general the actors do what they can, since it is a collection of actors who arent exactly household names that happen to play roles such as a hunchback or a brother getting squished). The 108-minute runtime is spent with probably a bit too many lines of the futility of people that aren't like Coffin Joe, but one will not find it too tedious to stick all the way to the ending. Marins obviously had an interest in scaring the auduence with subtle strokes. As a whole, the movie has some of the alluring power and weirdness generated by Marins as before to make a useful second effort with Coffin Joe that will prove curious for those wanting a bit of world cinema for their horror offerings that deal in mania in the macabre sense.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next time - Alert - In a special surprise, we will have a non-horror film fit for October 15: Facing Nolan.

Son of Godzilla.

Review #2070: Son of Godzilla.

Cast: 

Akira Kubo (Maki Goro), Tadao Takashima (Professor Kusumi), Bibari Maeda (Saeko Matsumiya), Akihiko Hirata (Fujisaki), Yoshio Tsuchiya (Furukawa), Kenji Sahara (Morio), Kenichiro Maruyama (Ozawa), Seishiro Kuno (Tashiro), with Hiroshi Sekita, Seiji Onaka, and Haruo Nakajima (Godzilla), and Marchan the Dwarf (Minilla) Directed by Jun Fukuda (#1668 - Ebirah, Horror of the Deep)

 

Review: 

Obviously, you don't have to go in order to enjoy the history of Godzilla films, but I do find it curious at times to see just what is different from time to time in these creature features, particularly as it is soon to reach its 70th anniversary. It also just so happens that Son of Godzilla is the eighth feature film of the series, released in the first lengthy streak of the series in which there was a Godzilla film in all but two of the years between 1962 and 1975. It happens to be the second straight Godzilla film directed by Jun Fukuda, which yet again involves Godzilla found lurking on an island, but this time with a twist that would shift some of the next few films. Fukuda and his crew were thought to be suited for a lower budget than, say, Ishirō Honda; Honda and company (such as Eiji Tsuburaya) were busy with King Kong Escapes, which was released in the summer of 1967. Honda would return to direct the next two films in the series with Destroy All Monsters (1968) and All Monsters Attack (1969), which each happened to feature Godzilla...and his son, which is referred to as Minilla (minus the English dub, which went with Minya). Fukuda would not return to the director's chair of a Godzilla film until Godzilla vs. Gigan (1972).

The enjoyment of the film may very well depend on just how much you care about Godzilla, well, entering fatherhood (as suggested by producer Tomoyuki Tanaka, although obviously the screenplay was fleshed out by Shinichi Sekizawa...and a newcomer with Kazue Shiba). Of course, since this is an island feature, this comes out after some usual exposition about why one is there to begin with (weather expedition) and how one manages to create a baby Godzilla. 86 minutes sometimes can go pretty quickly when it is something you like or feel like a chore, and I think this one is just fine. I think it is a marked improvement on the aforementioned Ebirah film if only because it seems to actually hit the target is wants to set with rubber-suited folks that is at least seems to generate a worthy smile rather than mild feeling. Look, we've already gotten ourselves past the point where the films involved some sort of solemn attempt at monster-ravaging society and into "setting of the week" territory, so taking the feature on with the merits of "did it do something for me?" is what applies here. That said, the actors at least seem game to not just snooze the time away, which at least this time doesn't involve special island powders. If one thinks the actors seem like they are wishing to be anywhere else but on this film, well, that sums up how much you will find pretty much of a decent chunk of monster movies,  some being better than others (obviously). The folks seem on their element here in that semi-serious way where plot goes the way they go without bumbling loudness. I find the giant mantis and spiders an adequate enemy here, if only because I figure, well, they can't always be great giant monsters, so aiming a bit smaller is fine. Besides, when it comes to establishing a bully that would pick on an egg, sure, the mantis seems about right to build up Godzilla turning the tables on. Minilla as a whole is about on par with, well, other sons of monsters (how many can you name off the top of your head that don't involve Son of Kong?), which basically means you either go with the eccentricities (a braying noise-sorry, baby noises) or don't, and I fall on the side of engaging with it as if it means something beyond being used as a promo tool. The series turning a leaf isn't going to hurt unless they make a bad habit out of it, what can I say? The last sequence shows Godzilla and son now involved in snowy hibernation, complete with them huddling together after it looks like one will fall by the wayside in the snow. It is a nice little sequence for a film that as a whole is light without turning lightweight and useful without being unneeded. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next up: Soviets, but a comedy this time.

The Fireman's Ball.

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Review #2067: The Fireman's Ball.

Cast: 

Jan Vostrčil (Head of Committee), Josef Šebánek (Committee Member #2), Josef Valnoha (Committee Member), František Debelka (Committee Member #1), Josef Kolb (Josef), Jan Stöckl (Retired Fire Chief), Vratislav Čermák (Committee Member), Josef Řehořek (Committee Member #4), Václav Novotný (Committee Member), František Reinstein (Committee Member), František Paska (Committee Member), Stanislav Holubec (Karel), Josef Kutálek (Ludva), and Milada Ježková (Josef's wife) Directed by Miloš Forman (#1164 - One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, #1473 - Amadeus)

Review: 

The story goes that this film was inspired by a friendly trip to a little town for a ball. Miloš Forman had just directed Loves of a Blonde (1965) through the collaboration of writing with Ivan Passer, Jaroslav Papoušek, and Václav Šašek. Apparently, Forman and company were trying to concentrate in trying to do another screenplay that would be the third film involving Forman as director within his native Czechoslovakia. They decided to go to a town called Vrchlabi to write in a hotel but went to a firemen's ball for amusement. What they saw inspired Forman and the others due to how they couldn't stop talking about how it was "such a nightmare". The result was a film of two distinctions: it was Forman's first color film, and it also would be his last film in his homeland, as he would switch over to the United States afterwards for films starting with Taking Off (1971). The film has had pretty favorable reviews in the half-century since release, although at the time, there were objections raised by some, because, well, fire companies apparently don't take nicely to films that seem to make fun of them (to the point where a little tour by Forman was needed to dispel that). The Prague Spring in 1968 curtailed the viewing power of the film for later years, but it was an audience hit for its time, and it also received a bit of distribution abroad. A select group of the actors involved with the film were actually people who were firemen in the small town that the film was shot in.

What we have here is basically a long setup for one big cosmic joke in 73 minutes, if you think about it. The setup in trying to do a ball in a small town with a raffle and a beauty pageant is handled by the volunteer fire department in a way that is squeezed for such wonderful satire. The satire of course isn't spelled out for you here, because Forman actually stated his intentions of being real and true that if achieved right, would "automatically reveal an allegorical sense." As such, it is an allegory that can be looked at in numerous perspectives beyond just poking at its root in a Communist country, particularly since you can always find something amusing within the best-intended plans in authority and bureaucracy. Well, that, and the evident cracks in the morals of a supposed nice small town where just about anything is possible in evanescent values when things basically become a case of one domino falling on top of another. There isn't exactly one big standout among the ensemble of bumblers, but that really just means they fit so well within the structure of the film in a collective showing of amusement for satire. They are locked in the roles that are needed in trying to serve what might be a serious story in a different world (doing a ball for their old boss dying of cancer) that ultimately sees them being about as effective in doing a ball as they would in trying to run a lemonade stand. The film is basically tied to two places: the venue where they host this ball and a sequence involving them trying to volunteer their services for an actual emergency involving a fire. Interpret how you like about how effective the film is with whatever sequence ranks best in effectiveness, although it is entirely possible that the opening sequence may go the best of all, since it involves such best-laid plans of trying to be sweet going right in with subsequent bumbling of a man on a ladder. The attempts at a beauty pageant also prove pretty biting in amusement, but my favorite moment of all involves an attempt to show order by turning off the lights in an attempt to give the crooks a chance to return the stolen goods only to find futility. As a whole, it is a pretty diverting film to spend time within the staging from authority for a certain goal that only goes to show how vision collides with reality in the strangest ways possible. For that, it is a pretty good start to go with in for Czech recommendations.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Stop: a film from....India.

The Trip (1967).

Review #2030: The Trip.

Cast: 

Peter Fonda (Paul Groves), Susan Strasberg (Sally Groves), Bruce Dern (John), Dennis Hopper (Max), Salli Sachse (Glenn), Barboura Morris (Flo), Judy Lang (Nadine), Luana Anders (Waitress), and Dick Miller (Cash) 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, and #1918 - House of Usher)

Review: 

"I wanted the picture not to be a pro-LSD picture and not to be an anti-LSD picture because my trip was very good, I had no bad effects in my trip at all. It was wonderful. Yet I felt I really shouldn’t be accused of proselytizing for LSD, and at the same time I knew people had had bad trips, so I was trying to be neutral, and I had to ask people what had happened on their bad trips, and incorporate some of what they had experienced into it to make it neutral."

Admittedly, when I think of Roger Corman, the words "counterculture trilogy" don't exactly come to mind. Research by others involving films involving so-called "hippies" has labeled The Trip as the second of his films involving the counterculture, with Gas-s-s-s (1970) being thought of as the last of the three and The Wild Angels (1966) being the first. Whatever Corman intended, one thing is clear when it comes to The Trip: it was meant to be quite an interesting experience in line with what Corman usually tried to do with American International Pictures. Hell, he certainly tried to do his own research to get things moving, which first involved reading the work of Timothy Leary, a noted psychologist, author, and advocate for psychedelic drugs which in this case involved lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD), although others would also know Leary for phrases that he came up with, such as "turn on, tune in, drop out". This drug, if you didn't know, was first synthetized in 1938 by Albert Hofmann. I would like to mention that Hofmann (after accidentally finding out the effect of LSD with ingestion years later) argued for LSD as a possible tool for psychiatry within the right place of awareness and safety rather than used for entertainment. So yes, he had plenty to think about the counterculture and their use of something he called "medicine for the soul". As for Corman, he eventually came to the conclusion that reading and asking folks about it was not enough, he had to try LSD for himself. After all of that, Corman, having a good trip, decided to make a film relying on experiments with cinematography and visual elements to carry a film that isn't really about much besides a drug trip. Of course, I can't forget that the film was also written by Jack Nicholson, which came about after Corman had Charles B. Griffith (his writer on previous material) write a couple of drafts, one of which was done as a musical; Nicholson apparently wanted to play a role in the film, but Corman wanted to reuse Dern from the aforementioned Angels film (which he and Fonda both starred in). The film was released less than a month after Corman's one big-budget venture with The St. Valentine's Day Massacre, but The Trip (made on a budget 1/4th the size of the other one) was a major hit for AIP. If you didn't connect the dots already, Fonda and Hopper would star together in a future film involving the road and the counterculture (with Nicholson and Anders in tow) in Easy Rider (1969).

Evidently, the way to go with this film is to turn off one's mind, relax, and float downstream. Regardless of how one feels about the attempt of neutrality, there is something quite, uh, offbeat about how the film goes about in wandering for 82 minutes. Strangely though, I find it far more interesting of the counterculture films that Corman did as compared to Wild Angels or with Gas-s-s-s, probably because the raucous biker experience of "freedom" of the former and the latter's attempt at "post-apocalyptic dark comedy" seem quite hollow compared to the simple goals presented here. It certainly won't be as ridiculous to watch as say, Reefer Madness. Those who find it tedious will have as much justification to say so as the folks who label it as pure cinematic exercise. It all depends on how much patience on has with lingering sequences of a man going through a really weird time that includes fantasy sequences, folks accidentally breaking into people's houses, and musical backdrops involving jazz or organ and horns for a score. With that in mind, Fonda actually does a pretty good job here, a dazed performance that is totally inviting and right for the scenario presented that doesn't seem ripe for exploitation. You get bits and pieces of who he is around and during the trip, and it namely involves vulnerability that one would think about when it comes to one's awareness being tuned into weird putty. Hopper and Dern play the guides on the would-be road of awakening, which is mostly amusing in bits and pieces. The women in the film in Strasberg and Sachse come and go in a rate that suggests discussion over just what they actually mean to Fonda beyond what they look on the surface, but remember that LSD was indeed meant more than just tripping out, so take that in mind. A handful of psychedelic/counterculture films would come and go in the coming months, whether that involved Something Weird (1967), or say, Head (1968), or Skidoo (1968), you get the idea, but The Trip should prove just fine for the curious at heart that like entertaining looks at the experience of doing a trip with useful imagery that is both what you think and don't think would happen if you were the one put in the lead scenario here. And for that, Corman clearly was in his element here in a decent experience.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Branded to Kill.

Review #1960: Branded to Kill.

Cast: 

Joe Shishido (Goro Hanada), Koji Nanbara (the Number One Killer), Isao Tamagawa (Michihiko Yabuhara), Annu Mari (Misako Nakajo), Mariko Ogawa (Mami Hanada), and Hiroshi Minami (Gihei Kasuga) Directed by Seijun Suzuki.

Review: 

"It's not really the genre I'm interested in, but the character of the yakuza or a killer. They wander between life and death. As a character they are more interesting than normal people. They live very near death, so we can describe how they die, where they die, and when they die. You have a wider range of possibilities than you otherwise would if you were depicting a normal person."

See, there are maverick film directors anywhere you look, you just have to find them. Seijun Suzuki actually studied first at a trade school in Tokyo in 1941 and wanted to apply to the college of the Ministry of Agriculture before failing the entrance exam that had him land in Hirosaki instead. He got recruited to serve in the Imperial Japanese Army in 1943, which resulted in a series of incidents such as multiple ship wrecks, service as a trainee officer that saw him spent most of his money "on booze and women" (in his words), and a closing rank of Second Lieutenant in the Meteorological Corps. He found certain horrors of war comical, such as an occasion of him being thrown into the sea during a bombing raid. At any rate, he went back to Hirosaki to continue his studies after the war ended before trying to apply to the University of Tokyo before failing out and finding a place at the film department of the Kamakura Academy. In 1948, he took and passed the entrance exam at the Shochiku Company and became an assistant director. He described his work there as being "a melancholy drunk". He got hired in 1954 by Nikkatsu, which had been closed during the war-time era by the government and relied on luring assistants with better pay. He soon graduated to directing in 1956, for which Suzuki would make a variety of features at the company, such as pop musicals, comedies, and action films. However, he had a desire for better quality scripts, as he felt that the only way to deal with B-tier scripts was to "have fun" with the material in playing with stylization, much to the chagrin of the studio. Youth of the Beast (1963) and The Bastard (1963) are considered turning points in his career, with Suzuki referring to the former as his "first truly original film" and the latter an important one in "making the fundamental illusion of cinema more powerful" (referring to his collaboration with Takeo Kimura as designer) Suzuki directed only eight films after basically being blacklisted after the release of this film (with his last one being in 2005), but Zigeunerweisen (1980), the first in what became his "Taishō Roman Trilogy", was a noted success among the indie circuit before dying in 2017 at the age of 93. The influence of a film that was originally a massive failure has spread far and wide, ranging from esteemed directors such as John Woo and Quentin Tarantino to others such as Jim Jarmusch (who mirrored a particular scene from this film for his own feature in Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai).

The story goes that Nikkatsu wanted to make a low-budget B-movie (a hitman movie that wasn't too far off from what they usually did with yakuza films) that would have Shishido as star. When they hated the script given to them, they asked Suzuki to rewrite and direct. The result was one that saw a script written by Hachiro Guryu (translates to "Group of Eight"), which was the combined efforts of Suzuki, Takeo Kimura, Atsushi Yamatoya, Yōzō Tanaka, Chūsei Sone, Yutaka Okada, Seiichirō Yamaguchi and Yasuaki Hangai. Suzuki's style of collaboration and improvisation is how one gets the idea to have a killer that loves the smell of boiled rice or actors play the roles as they saw fit. How many movies do you know that have butterflies come onto the screen that signifies obsessive love? Or characters that sleep with their eyes open and urinate where they sit? This is a spontaneous movie that plays fast and loose with the genre of noir in being a freeform oddball movie. People in this film are ciphers and the action is abstract, complete with a cat-and-mouse climax that can only be watched for oneself rather than trying to describing it in detail. It is as if Suzuki made films about things he wanted to understand rather than make a so-called "comprehensible movie", where time and space are just wherever the hell he chooses. He aspires to entertain in a way that might actually seem quite modern to those who look for offbeat character films (whether as action or road movies), complete with delirious cuts and a striking look that ends up making more sense the further one gets into its absurd mind. It is probably the biggest indictment of expectations one could imagine: if you think you are getting a gangster movie filled with sex and violence, you will get all that and plenty more within a lurid package that likely requires multiple viewings to really absorb itself, although the less patient will obviously find little to stick with; the ones who pay attention and the ones who don't pay attention might have similar reactions. Shishido became an actor in the mid-1950s, but he only started to get bigger parts when he underwent surgery to make his cheekbones bigger, which resulted in a number of action parts, including a handful of Suzuki films. He makes for an ideal absurd man to fit an absurd film, the perfect anti-hero fool. He glides with the grace of a clumsy cat trying to leap onto a ledge, being curious all the while. Ogawa was a burlesque dancer that did the film because none of the ladies in the studio were willing to do the role (which is spent mostly in the nude). It was her only film appearance, and she makes the most of it in terms of eccentricity of raw charm that sticks out far more than just being someone used for scenes of, uh, intense, lovemaking. Mari and her thoughts of death at the time of making the film made an odd pairing when it came to accepting a script for a character obsessed with death, which results in a worthy pairing in the macabre with Shishido as a riff on the femme fatale. Nanbara seems more a riff on stern studio executives who wear down certain players, which works well in terms of making the ideal conniving figure in a film filled with cofounding types, particularly since he only steps into focus midway through the 91 minute runtime. 

The film was such a failure in theaters that it was removed from distribution as soon as it could be, and his pay was dropped not a year later (the company president once said that not only did Suzuki make incomprehensible films, he also should "open a noodle shop or something instead"); the company even went so far as to not allow his films to be distributed or released, which ticked off a student-run film society that wanted to do a retrospective on Suzuki's career. He then sued the company for breach of contract (among other things), which resulted in the company being found to have used Suzuki as a scapegoat for their financial bungling. Suzuki got his apology but did not return to the director's chair until A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness in 1977, for which he spent his time doing commercials and supervisor in anime. Nikkatsu made their own "reimagining" with Trapped in Lust (made in 1973 as one of their "Roman Porno" films, which were sexploitation films), while Suzuki directed a loose sequel filmed at Nikkatsu with Pistol Opera (2001). As a whole, it may not be up to everyone's speed when it comes to what you might think of in terms of crime thrillers, but it will surely prove to stick in one's mind long after it has played its final trick, which works mostly for the better for those who like who is behind it. It may be the kind of movie you look back on with reverence or the opposite, but it endures regardless.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

I say this now only because I have a surprise in mind if things go well: Go Bills.

Valley of the Dolls.

Review #1931: Valley of the Dolls.

Cast: 

Barbara Parkins (Anne Welles), Patty Duke (Neely O'Hara), Paul Burke (Lyon Burke), Sharon Tate (Jennifer North), Tony Scotti (Tony Polar), Lee Grant (Miriam Polar), Susan Hayward (Helen Lawson), Martin Milner (Mel Anderson), Charles Drake (Kevin Gillmore), Alexander Davion (Ted Casablanca), Richard Angarola (Claude Chardot), Naomi Stevens (Miss Steinberg), and Robert H. Harris (Henry Bellamy) Directed by Mark Robson (#1797 - Home of the Brave)

Review: 

In 1966, Jacqueline Susann saw her first novel published in Valley of the Dolls. She had aspired to become an actress at a young age in the 1930s, and she got to appear in a handful of stage shows and television, but likely her most known quality was in commercials, which she wrote, produced and starred in for a number of years; she also had a habit of downing amphetamines (calling them "dolls") around this time, which apparently started not long after her son was diagnosed with autism and put into an institution when he was 3. In 1962, at the age of 44, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She then made a pact with God to say that she would prove herself to be the best-selling writer in the world if she was given ten more years of life. Often called the first "brand-name" novelist, Susann became quite the show-woman in promoting books, and her first published work was Every Night, Josephine! in 1963 (inspired by letter she wrote to her pet dog). Valley of the Dolls, the work she is most famous for, came in 1966. Years after steamy novels like Peyton Place succeeded with readers (not with critics), Valley of the Dolls was a twenty-year odyssey in the lives of three young women who all happen to fall prey to drugs called "dolls" that featured other characters inspired by real-life stars such as Ethel Merman, Carole Landis, Judy Garland and Dean Martin. Fifty years after its release, the book has sold more than 31 million copies, and it inspired a film, a "continuation novel", two TV adaptations and a parody with Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970). A book into the process of making Valley of the Dolls called one of the most beloved bad book and movies of its time was written by Stephen Rebello in 2020. Robson was an interesting choice to direct. The Montreal native honed his craft as an editor before he became a director, directing 34 films from The Seventh Victim (1943) to Avalanche Express (1979), with a number of the films seeing him also serve as a producer. Harlan Ellison, Helen Deutsch, and Dorothy Kingsley were brought in to work on the script, although Ellison hated what they did to the book and requested his name taken off - imagine a book that already sees a character kill themselves and another go off the wagon ending on a breezy note. Two further adaptation of the five novels Susann wrote have followed: The Love Machine (1971) and Once Is Not Enough (1975). In 1974, after over a decade of a battle with cancer, Susann died in 1974 at the age of 56.

Just like the film adaptation of Peyton Place (released in 1957 with Robson as director) and Sex and the Single Girl, the book really is steamier than the film it came from, since the book featured elements of homosexuality in both men and women. Of course, the movie takes place in the current day rather than the book timeline from the mid 1940s to the mid 1960s. Jacqueline Susann saw the film on a cruise ship premiere, and she thought it was crap, although she kept that opinion to herself so to not give the movie an early thrashing...which came plenty (probably didn't help that the casting wasn't what she wanted, since she wanted people like Ursula Andress, Bette Davis, Shirley MacLaine and Elvis Presley for the lead roles). The movie and book ended up reflecting each other: audiences dug it while critics trashed it. The movie is an explosion of gloss and grooviness that looks like it was processed in the 1950s that makes a tale of sexual liberation and the entertainment industry seem quite amusing. Adultery, divorce, addiction and deviancy seem like something pulled from the silliest of moral stories.  It's no wonder why she didn't care for it: it's a movie that doesn't know what foot to put in front of the other and looks like a soap opera run amuck. Parkins is just the everyman character, firmly in the middle of weirdo things happening around them with the appeal of a broomstick stuck in a schmaltzy molasses. You might say a normal-ish person is the ideal among all the weirdness, but ordinary isn't always fun. Apparently, Duke wanted to do the film to help transition her into more adult roles, since her role was the most dynamic (she had won an Academy Award for playing Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker and she also had her own TV show). She even gets the opportunity to sing (dubbed by Gail Heideman). The funny thing is that the movie nearly walloped her career, although really, she does pretty well in the art of eating the screen. She eats the screen in all the ways one would hope. Tate is okay, at least because Burke and Scotti are blander. Judy Garland was originally cast in the role later played by Susan Heyward, and promotions were done with that in mind, and she would get to sing a song, which was pre-recorded. After a week, she suffered from her dependence on alcohol and Demerol that saw her get fired from 20th Century Fox. Apparently, on the final day, Robson made her wait until 4pm to film her scenes after making her wait since 8am, in the belief that she would be upset and drunk at the time (so yes, if you believe the account from Duke about Robson, the latter sounds like an asshole). Heyward, an Academy Award winner, is decent in terms of vaunted confidence without particularly having much to really do besides one scene of Duke fighting her over who has the fake appendage on and how to go on. Grant seems to be shuffling through as if the paycheck is just tempting enough to go on. Eh, the movie is as it is: silly but mostly watchable, if one accommodates it being more for the experience rather than a full collection of interesting people. Sure, people think it may be a camp classic with its stylistic kitsch or maybe a revealing look into the struggles of women, but in the end, it all boils down to an absurd and amusing affair that can be thought of as a fantasy for whoever is watching: the gossip-obsessed people desiring a pop event, or people looking for a silly crappy movie to watch (or maybe gay people that look to reclaim the film as a camp classic, but I will let you decide that, since I'm not here for that). In that sense, 55 years has given Valley of the Dolls is overwhelming in the best and worst ways that could only come from a certain time and certain perspective. 

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Well, we have reached the ninth and final film of Turkey Week. I really wanted to scrap the bottom of the barrel in terms of movies fitting for the label of "turkey" for Turkey Week. Since the first two Turkey Weeks had eight reviews, I wanted to try and include at least one more movie than what I did before, and I can say that there were a few candidates that missed the cut that may be considered for next year

The Scarlet Letter (1995), Turks in Space, Sidekicks, Verotika, An American Hippie in Israel, The Legend of the Lone Ranger, and The Conqueror

Any and all suggestions are welcome for next year.

The Born Losers.

Review #1860: The Born Losers.

Cast: 

Tom Laughlin (Billy Jack), Elizabeth James (Vicky Barrington), Jeremy Slate (Daniel 'Danny' Carmody), William Wellman Jr. (Child), Jack Starrett (Deputy Fred), Robert Cleaves (Mr. Crawford), Paul Bruce (District Attorney George Davis), Robert Tessier (Cueball), Paul Prokop (Speechless), Jeff Cooper (Gangrene), Stuart Lancaster (Sheriff Harvey), Anne Bellamy (Mrs. Prang), with Ruth Warshawsky (Nurse) and special guest star Jane Russell (Mrs. Shorn) Directed by Tom Laughlin (#1196 - Billy Jack)

Review: 

First, one needs a few facts. Born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Tom Laughlin was actually into football first, even playing two positions at Marquette University; seeing a production of A Streetcar Named Desire pushed a desire to act, and he transferred to the University of South Dakota to major in acting. It was in the summer of 1967 that Tom Laughlin got his first crack to do a movie with the character of Billy Jack, which he first thought of in 1954 after seeing the mistreatment of Native Americans in the hometown of his wife Delores Taylor. Over the next couple of years, he would do a handful of performances on television and film, which included his first starring role in The Delinquents (1958). He got his first chances to direct with The Proper Time (1960) and Like Father, Like Son (1961) that saw him write and produce along with star, but neither were particularly successful. Laughlin left the film business for five years to dedicate all of his time to the Montessori preschool that he and his wife had established in 1959 in Santa Monica, California. The school, which had received national publicity from the press, closed in 1965 due to bankruptcy. Perhaps not surprisingly, he returned to film. Laughlin intended to fully produce the movie alongside directing and acting as well. However, he ran out of money in post-production, so he had to see if he could get some funding from who else- American International Pictures, masters of the exploitation circuit. Given the fact that Laughlin decided to hone right into the boom of the biker movie that had been seen with schlock such as The Wild Angels (1966), it fit right in for AIP to fund and release. The movie was shot in three weeks for roughly $160,000, complete with using rented houses and a real motorcycle gang in The Devil's Disciples. AIP intended to distribute Billy Jack (1971), but the studio refused after seeing the final cut, which led to Laughlin making a deal with Warner Brothers (after 20th Century Fox made a deal and reneged on Laughlin). That release did not succeed well, but Laughlin's decision to sue the studio and re-release it himself two years later did work well for him to the point where AIP did a re-release of The Born Losers and riled Laughlin up by having ads that called it the original Billy Jack. 

Remember Broken Arrow (1950)? You know, the movie that tried to feature a balanced story involving Native Americans and someone on the frontier that seemed different from the "Cowboys and Indians" type of Western? In a sense, Laughlin is making a Western with this movie, but the idea that his self-described half Native American who is also an ex-Green Beret is anything special when compared to previous movies is just as silly as it would be for the following feature. This one also took inspiration from real-life events, as it was based on an incident from 1964 where members of the Hells Angels were arrested for raping two teenage girls in Monterey, California. This results in a movie that shows the fuzzy contradiction that encapsulates Laughlin as a director within the character he created: he can make a decent action scene with its setup, but the values that come with his bully pulpit make for moments that are amusing to laugh at rather than actually engage with at face value. In trying to teach some sort of weird pacifism in the face of violence, one simply brushes the anti-establishment stuff with a yawn and a chuckle - to say nothing of the scenes where victims are depicted as actually enjoying their encounters with the bikers because of how their parents raised them. This was the only starring role for James, who actually shows the semblance of "charm" and "engagement with the material", one who surely deserved better things than being in a bikini and having to share time with mono-Laughlin. Slate actually makes a quality villain in the exploitation angle for weird crass influences, even if the presentation of him with his family muddles things a bit (when I think about exploitation movies with bad guys, I don't think if they have kids); one just needs weirdos that love James Dean but dress up with Nazi stuff to raise hell. Russell is there to chew scenery for tears that Laughlin uses to about what you would expect for a movie that dares to have a guest star.

Seeing the 1967 Billy Jack before the 1971 sequel is a hell of a trip, if only because the earlier film is somehow a better movie in execution despite being made to cash in on the exploitation craze as opposed to the weirdo movie that was done later (of course, if you saw the 1967 movie second, the whole argument about quality is even more pronounced); in short, the B-movie is better than the passion project. The exploitation angle is far more interesting to consider than seeing Laughlin in a setup that makes him look like he robbed Marlon Brando but forgot to get the talent factor; you could probably do an entire dub of the movie and have the same amount of charisma as Laughlin (while also making up a whole new background to explain the lily-white weirdo who is our lead). He does better in the action sequence in part because that involves him not having to come up with the attempt of empathy or timing. For a movie at 113 minutes, he also managed to make a movie that is way too damn long, as it lags in the second half (there's a sequence where an astrologer asks them about their birthdays!) before limping to a siege climax that only barely delivers the actual reason to watch - exploitation! Urgency is what is needed, not shots of dead animals. If Laughlin wants to play cowboy-sorry, weird pacifist/asskicker, the best thing one could have done with the character is to take the script from him and have a real discussion over what the hell he wanted to do that wasn't just fanfiction of himself (case in point: shooting the villain between the eyes in one shot). In other words: subtle measures of staging a message within action works way better than throwing everything together and hoping it sticks for some moral revolution bullshit that might actually make an argument for studio system films. In the end, Laughlin may have been a maverick film director who did what he could to get his point across in filmmaking, but it doesn't mean that his failures should be outweighed by his intentions, which is the case with a mediocre movie in the case of The Born Losers. It may prove interesting if you want to spend nearly two hours of your time trying not to make fun of its star/director, so take that into consideration.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Spider Baby.

Review #1740: Spider Baby.

Cast: 

Lon Chaney Jr. (Bruno), Carol Ohmart (Emily), Quinn Redeker (Peter), Beverly Washburn (Elizabeth), Jill Banner (Virginia), Sid Haig (Ralph), Mary Mitchel (Ann), Karl Schanzer (Schlocker), and Mantan Moreland (Messenger) Written and Directed by Jack Hill (#1654 - Blood Bath)

Review: 

"It was the first film I could really call mine. It was the only time I actually did a film that wasn't an assignment."

If you remember, the first film released with Hill's name as director was Mondo Keyhole (1966). Of course, there is a bit more to that story, since he came from the (unofficial) school of Roger Corman in the 1960s, and his first key task would be to shoot 20 minutes to be added on The Wasp Woman (1959) for syndication in television, which occurred in 1962. The following year, he would be given the dubious task of being the fourth director asked by Corman to direct scenes for The Terror (1963), which also came with re-writing the script (of course, he wasn't given credit for directing, but neither were the others). Gil Lasky and Paul Monka had a bunch of real estate profits they wanted to invest into a horror film, and they happened to have met Karl Schanzer, who suggested that Hill would be a good choice. 12 days of shooting happened in Los Angeles in August of 1964, but fate dealt a cruel hand when a market crash held up all of Lasky and Monka's assets. David L. Hewitt acquired the film years later and re-titled the film while releasing it alongside Dr. Terror's Gallery of Horrors (also just known as Gallery of Horror). For three decades, the movie's original negative was lost (with middling VHS versions existing in the 1990s, remember) before being acquired by Hill, who had a clean transfer done along with adding a scene deleted from release that he would call his "Director's Cut". 

It sure is a shame that the film did not receive much attention in its time, because it certainly has an interesting place among the line of horror for all of the aspects that would play prominent in more noted films in the half-century since its release. I think there certainly is a line that can be drawn through the timeline that could go from The Old Dark House (1932) to this film to others like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) and House of 1000 Corpses (2003) with their own type of eccentric characters that happen to live in an infested house of murder and other such things. Of course, one involves a chain saw, the other involves rock music directors, and the other is whatever it is...Spider Baby is a creepy movie that holds its own when it comes to vicious goofiness, one that is disturbing in the chuckles drawn, and one will likely be drawn to this from the opening title song (composed by Ronald Stein while sung by Lon Chaney Jr himself, who apparently had a good time singing about spiders, ghouls, and other stuff). Basically, it is a film for the ghoulish at heart, and I readily enjoyed its 81 minute run-time in all the little weird things it ends up doing in building up its ultimate punch-line by the end that merits curiosity. 

This was released near the end of Chaney's career, which had gone through ups and downs in horror and character actor roles (film and television), but it can be safely said that this is definitely one of his best roles. He goes after the role with the right sense of dedicated warmth and edge that comes from contrasting all the strange kooks that inhabit both sides of this on-screen family, one that still has the timing necessary to make the material work with fondness; this is best signified by the scene between Chaney, Washburn, and Schanzer talking about staying together after the discovery of a dead man and the promises one has to keep (while the eyes start to water a bit). Redeker and Mitchel play the "normal" folks (framing the film for its beginning and end), while Ohmart jots in with assertiveness. One can't forget about the trio of eccentrics. Haig doesn't have much to say (as part of the plot, since the older one gets in the family, the less they say...), but he does well with a hodgepodge of moments that goes for weird within being a strong mute that likes to look at everybody (to varying results...). This was the debut of Banner (who had graduated Hollywood Professional School in 1964) in what became her most noted role before her untimely death in 1982. She plays the title character (i.e. someone who likes to play a game called "spider baby", as seen in the opening scene with Moreland). She does pretty well here in generating playful terror, which includes plenty of shots involving spiders in some way (such as tying someone up). Washburn is most likely known for both her appearances in Old Yeller (1957) and this film (having appeared sporadically in TV and film as a child). She contributes to the savagery in her own potent awareness that seems innocent like the other two on the surface that help the movie stay on its feet. Schanzer finishes it off with sniveling potency. As a whole, the movie relies on generating terror with atmosphere in terrorizing chuckles without needing overt effects or bloody gore, which results in a curious charmer that likely will reward folks who see it again and again. Hill would go on to explore further in exploitation films in the next couple of years, but Spider Baby has managed to find a place within his line of work worth checking out.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Dr. Phibes Rises Again 

Yongary, Monster from the Deep.

Review #1711: Yongary, Monster from the Deep.

Cast: 

Oh Yeong-il (Il-Woo [Illo]), Kwang Ho Lee (Yoo Young [Icho]), Nam Jeong-im (Yoo Soon-a), Lee Sun-jae (Yoo Kwang-nam), Moon Kang (Kim Yu-ri), and Cho Kyoung-min (Yongary) Directed by Kim Ki-duk.

Review: 

I'm sure you are familiar with kaiju movies before, so how about a movie that sure seems to be one of a kind? Released as Great Monster Yongary, this was a South Korean-Japanese production between Keukdong Entertainment and Toei, with the title character suit designed in South Korea and the suit being built in Japan. Equis Productions was also brought in to help with the effects. Masao Yagi, builder of the Gamera suit for Daiei, was supervisor for the suit in this film. Of course, there is a caveat when it comes to watching this film that does not happen with other films of world cinema. Two years after the release of the film in Seoul, Keukdong came up with a deal to release the film in North America with (who else?) American International Pictures, which they did under the title you see here, which was done for their television division (which meant the film would be shown quite regularly in the following decade), with Titra Studios behind the dubbing and Toei acting as the sales agent. This version lasts 80 minutes. Unfortunately, when Keukdong sent all of the negatives (and sound effects), they soon became lost...which means the only way to watch the film is the English dub (there is considerable irony that the film wasn't shown on Korean television until 2011, and that utilized the dub but with Korean subtitles from the script included). Well, technically there is footage of the original negative, since a 48 minute version was acquired by the Korean Film Archive early in the 21st century, albeit with considerable damage to the print. In 1999, a "reimagining" film was made by Shim Hyung-rae called Yonggary (incidentally, an expanded version of the film would be done in 2001, which was released in America as Reptilian).

This was the third monster movie released by the country, following the heels of Space Monster Wangmagwi (1967), released a few months earlier along with Bulgasari (1962, a film so unpopular it is now lost). At the time, one must understand the differences between what one sees of South Korea between 1967 and now. Not even two decades prior, the North had invaded them and sparked war between the two countries (comprised of separate governments administered by the U.S. for the South and the Soviet Union in the North, which was meant to be temporary before they were meant to be unified). This comes around when you think of the idea of manned space programs involving Korea, which you might be surprised to know did not send an astronaut to space until 2008. Well, I suppose the best way to start a kaiju movie is start with a wedding...and a kid who makes the newlywed itch with some sort of light ray. Honestly, with how the film plays out, I should have just reminded myself of the connection between Gamera and Yongary a bit earlier, although at least the kid here is alright. Well, at least for a kid that thinks itching rays are funny and plays a part in figuring out monster weaknesses. Oh, and when the kid uses that device on the monster, it dances around for a bit. So yes, the monster (named as a combination of the words Yong [dragon] and Gari [after Bulgasari]) likes to consume oil, breathes fire, and can't stand ammonia. This becomes ridiculous when puddles of red are seen around him when the monster slowly dies after getting more ammonia. Monster movies seem to really be judged more on what you see than what you hear, honestly, and this is a test case to prove that theory for a film that seems like a Gamera imitator more than anything. Sure, you can hear all the stuff about ammonia and sci-fi talk, but one really has to look at the strangeness that comes from a odd duck of a monster (one the director didn't even care for that much in its design) that dances. It's a movie full of hokum and odd duck maneuvering in plot, but it is rife to share a chuckle with or sleep on, one that can't rile you up too much if you know what to watch, rife in predictability that might as well resemble junk food. The effects are not quite up to the level seen by the plethora of Godzilla movies released in the same era, but they are passable for a consortium of filmmakers trying their hand at giving Korea a monster movie (besides, they could be like the North and kidnap a director to make a monster movie...). The actors seem pretty stiff, but they play to what you expect from a monster movie that plays the usual hand for an audience that is comprised of either people who didn't have many monster movies (South Korea) or folks already familiar with rubber suit action, which just means you get a middling curiosity. I can't say it is a hidden gem by any means, it is at least curious enough to inspire a watch for anyone interested in monster movies with a slight change in perspective. 54 years later, it may not be a great cult classic, but it has managed to endure fairly well for what can be seen and heard that keeps it from languishing in film purgatory.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

In Cold Blood.

Review #1426: In Cold Blood.

Cast: 
Robert Blake (Perry Smith), Scott Wilson (Dick Hickock), John Forsythe (Alvin Dewey), Paul Stewart (Jensen, the reporter), Gerald S. O'Loughlin (Harold Nye), Jeff Corey (Walter Hickock), John Gallaudet (Roy Church), James Flavin (Clarence Duntz), Charles McGraw (Tex Smith), Sammy Thurman (Flo Smith), Will Geer (Prosecuting attorney), John McLiam (Herbert Clutter), Ruth Storey (Bonnie Clutter), Brenda C. Currin (Nancy Clutter), and Paul Hough (Kenyon Clutter) Written, Produced, and Directed by Richard Brooks (#871 - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and #1033 - Dollars)

Review: 
"If you’re thinking of getting into the movies, you better like it a whole lot. You better love making movies. Because it’s not easy--it’s not easy to make even a bad movie. You better be prepared to eat it, unsalted, because that’s the job of a movie maker. You better like it, because that’s what you’re going to have to do.”

The late 1960s were exactly a time for boundaries to be pushed further for film. Richard Brooks proved to be one of numerous directors that would bridge the gap between the studio system style of directing films and the growing independence (with some studio influence) of later years to make for a career of over 40 years of directing, writing, and producing. He had originally started work as a journalist and sports reporter before deciding to move to work in the theater and work on B-films. He also wrote novels as well, with The Brick Foxhole (1945, written while in the Marine Corps) being adapted as Crossfire (1947) being turned into a film. He moved to noir thriller not long after the war ended, helping to write works such as The Killers (1946) and Key Largo (1948) before given a chance to direct with alongside write with Crisis (1950). He would do 24 films in total as director (with the ones after Cat on a Hot Tin Roof being done independently after leaving MGM), with highlights including Blackboard Jungle (1955), Elmer Gantry (1960), and The Professionals (1966). Even early in his career he received respect, being described by French magazine Cahiers du Cinema as a "rebel" American auteur filmmaker, who believed that telling and doing a story was most important (stating that directing, editing, and scoring was writing). This went hand in hand with his reputation as a hard-as-nails man of his work who was prone to outbursts of anger, even when he became producer of his films (six of his last nine were produced by him including this one). On one of his films, he gathered the crew on their first day and told them that while they may have their own ideas and contributions about how to make it improved, they should keep it to themselves since it is was going to be done his way as "his fucking movie".

This was adapted from the novel of the same name by Truman Capote, who wrote what he labeled a "non-fiction novel" (being one of the first works to be associated with that genre) over the span of six years (while accompanied by friend Harper Lee) that detailed the 1959 murders of the Clutter family in Holcomb, Kansas that that had a triple narrative that jumped around the lives of the killers, the family, and the other members of the rural community (two films were subsequently made involving Capote's experience with writing the book in Capote and Infamous). The film strives for realism right down to the locations, since the sites of the actual crime in Kansas were used for a good deal of filming, most notably with the Clutter home (although the state penitentiary scenes were not allowed to be filmed in the prison, so sets were used instead). One noted difference between the novel and film was the adding of a reporter character to the proceedings, no doubt inspired by Capote (who went to Kansas after hearing about the murders to cover the manhunt and do interviews, where he eventually formed a bond with Smith). They even had some of the original jurors from the trial appear for the film. The attention to detail, combined with a documentary-style cinematography from Conrad Hall makes for a highly effective film. Brooks was firm in his intent to not have big stars play the main characters, feeling that it would be a distraction (Columbia Pictures originally wanted Steve McQueen and Paul Newman, for example). Blake was a child star who had grown up to less known roles as an adult while Wilson was in only his second ever film role, recommended by Sidney Poitier and Quincy Jones (who both worked with Wilson earlier with In the Heat of the Night). Blake proves the best performance of the whole group, one riddled with creeping conviction that lures you into a world of darkness as a brutal contradiction that creeps under the surface until the climatic flashback, with his conversation about his father in the rain sequence (where it looks like tears that stays on his face) being a somber highlight. Wilson captures dark charm that fits the other side of the crazed coin with an impulsive nature that seems likes a ticking time bomb, whether that means trying to lure someone into a trap or force their way through street senses. Forsythe (known for his television work) delivers quality as the real-life authority figure, while Stewart (a portrayer of often sinister and cynical characters in film, television, stage, and radio) delivers cynicism like a Greek chorus (which Capote took exception to) that observes the pursuit with eventual narration that contrasts him with everyone else, particularly since he is the one to ponder over the events that have occurred with the film after it closes, and the other members of the cast do well whenever there is some focus on them (such as Corey and McGraw each talking about how they tried to raise their kid). The film balances its narratives with care that builds to its violent action near the end with key amounts of darkness and shock (likely better than if it had just been shown in the first half), with a message that mostly hits its mark in the end, depending on how one feels about the death penalty. On the whole, this is a efficient film, filled with detail and execution with devastating lead performances and a 134 minute run-time that makes for a creeping experience that packs a punch after five decades as a gem of realism and a study of human nature.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

Review #1425: The St. Valentine's Day Massacre.

Cast: 
Jason Robards (Al Capone), George Segal (Peter Gusenberg), Ralph Meeker (George "Bugs" Moran), Jean Hale (Myrtle), Jan Merlin (Willie Marks), Clint Ritchie (Machine Gun Jack McGurn), David Canary (Frank Gusenberg), Harold J. Stone (Frank Nitti), Frank Silvera (Nick Sorello), Joseph Campanella (Albert Wienshank), Richard Bakalyan (John Scalise), Charles Dierkop (Salvanti), John Agar (Dion O'Bannion), Joseph Turkel (Jake Gusik), Bruce Dern (Johnny May), and Paul Frees (Narrator) 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, and #1423 - The Wild Angels)

Review: 
"There comes a time when the public conscience needs jolting and in St Valentine's Day Massacre this is our intention. It is also certain that the movie will make money - crime is always box office."

As one would say, give people what they want and they will come see it in theaters. One can talk for ages about the ways that Roger Corman has served film well in making them fast, cheap and generally good that have served him well in a long-lasting career as producer and director. This is an unusual film in his lineup because of his collaboration with a major studio in 20th Century Fox, as opposed to his usual independent filmmaking. He had expressed an interest with making a film with a major studio, and he attracted the attention of Columbia Pictures. Cracks seemed to form almost immediately, as his submitted ideas (a biopic of Baron Von Ritchhofen, this film, and an adaptation of Only Lovers Left Alive) were considered too strange while their ideas seemed too ordinary to him, with Corman believing in giving the audience "something a little more complex artistically and intellectually. To show something you can't see on TV leads inevitably to unusual material." Perhaps predictably, he would never end up making a film for Columbia, leaving the production of A Time for Killing (1967) early on. However, he would be granted a chance with Fox, since I suppose one can't resist the urge to do business with a proven director for fast and effective moneymakers, with this being a particularly interesting year for evolving tastes (the first coming to mind being Bonnie and Clyde).

Corman would have to modify certain aspects of his plan to make the film with the studio, however. For one thing, he wanted Orson Welles to play the lead role with Robards as the character of Moran. However Fox felt that he was undirectable and could potentially try to take rein of the director's chair from Corman. Ideas to film in Chicago were soon shifted to the Fox backlot, and Corman even re-used sets from other movies. While given seven weeks and $2.5 million to make a film, he felt most comfortable with tighter budgets, although he generally felt more comfortable as producer than directing, with this being the sixth-to-last film that he directed. He strived to make an authentic and accurate gangster film, right down to the climax and having the bodies lie where they fell in the original crime photos. The portrayal of Capone by Robards was the third in a feature film (after the first by Rod Steiger in the eponymously titled film in 1959, which also had The Untouchables premiere on TV), and Corman would return to the subject as producer for Capone (1975). In that matter, this is a decent ensemble piece with careful plotting that shows its criminal underside without trouble to make a 100 minute tale resonate with a bit of shock value. It isn't one of Corman's greatest achievements, but it at least one with ambition and the tools to try and make things work out with its buildup to the massacre with gradual use of Frees as narrator to describe the characters and their actions. Robards and Meeker stand out the most in the cast. Although it might have proved more fruitful to have had Welles in the title role, Robards makes the most of it with scene-chewery that makes for well-seen bluster whenever the time is needed to raise voice. Meeker contrasts this with his own type of conniving spirit of conviction, while Segal, Stone and the others follow along in making for some interesting unsavory people to look at for a time that doesn't lead one to want some sort of authority opposition or some sort of comic relief. On the whole, this is a decent little movie from Roger Corman in something a bit different from his usual tactics of filmmaking that still retains his usual drive to make quality entertainment that lives up as a decent gem for its era.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.