They Call Me Mister Tibbs!

Review #2531: They Call Me Mister Tibbs!

Cast: 

Sidney Poitier (Lieutenant Virgil Tibbs), Martin Landau (Logan Sharpe), Barbara McNair (Valerie Tibbs), Anthony Zerbe (Rice Weedon), Ed Asner (Woody Garfield), David Sheiner (Lieutenant Kenner), Jeff Corey (Captain Marden), Ted Gehring (Sergeant Deutsch), Juano Hernandez (Mealie Williamson), Norma Crane (Marge Garfield), and Beverly Todd ("Puff") Directed by Gordon Douglas (#663 - Them!, #686 - In Like Flint, #2320 - Viva Knievel!)

Review: 

Hey, remember In the Heat of the Night? To refresh my memory, because I only remember a few fragments...the movie was based on the 1965 novel by John Ball that involved a small Southern town in Mississippi rocked by a murder in the midst of the 1960s as an outsider detective comes in, deals with bigotry and solves the case. Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger were big on doing the film together, which was filmed in Illinois (as directed by Norman Jewison) that probably had its most interesting scene when Poitier's character slaps someone back (as not originally envisioned). Or, well, the scene where Poitier's character, being asked what he gets called back in Philadelphia, responds, with, well, "They call me Mister Tibbs!". Ball actually did a handful more novels with the character of Tibbs with The Cool Cottontail (1966), Johnny Get Your Gun (1969), Five Pieces of Jade (1972), The Eyes of Buddha (1976), Then Came Violence (1980) and Singapore (1986). But this would be a movie that just went on its own way, with Alan Trustman (writer of The Thomas Crown Affair and co-writer of Bullitt [both 1968], interestingly enough). writing the story and co-writing the screenplay with James R. Webb (the Academy Award winning writer of How the West Was Won eight years prior). At the helm for director was Gordon Douglas, a regular presence in various genres, which included follow-ups to films such as Lady in Cement (1968). While not as big a success as the first film, it made roughly over $2 milllion in rentals in the first six months. Poitier returned as Tibbs for one more movie with The Organization (1971), with Don Medford serving as director.

We now have a film set in San Francisco as our title character is now wrapped up in the investigation of a dead prostitute as some sort of city referendum is coming up about urban renewal with a preacher on one side. This also goes with a few scenes spent in the household of his wife and children (what, a lonely detective in the big city?) that results in a few moments of strife because damned if there is even one bit of tension in the murder case. The 1970s would have a few movies with an interesting presence behind it in terms of crime action thrillers, but Shaft (1971) would be the one people think of as among the first to get the ball rolling rather than this film, that's for sure. Hell, Cotton Comes to Harlem, released a month before Tibbs, is more captivating because it just feels like a movie that yearns to actually do something beyond the mundane routines that come with an investigation that might as well be the equivalent of turning over a rock to see a bunch of ants on the bottom. You might say that there was something lost in the curiosity factor in the character played by Poitier, because now he just seems completely rigid as a board, as if someone wanted to make a Dragnet impersonation but gave up. His family life just sits there in a strange type of "I recognize the dynamic, but I don't care about these people". Landau was a nice actor who people loved in film and TV (such as, say, his Mission: Impossible run*) but he barely has anything to really give in this film, which seems shocking when you consider he is playing a street preacher. You would think that an investigation that you've got a pretty good guess on who the killer is would have some sort of way to drive interest but nope, it basically stays on autopilot for most of it. Zerbe is the more interesting presence, and he's playing for a pimp, for God's sake (to say nothing of putting a wig on Ed Asner and doing a routine car chase). You get little to nothing from folks such as Corey on the police side and you barely get a feel for the city as a whole, managing to resemble Generic Town USA even more than the average sequels that usually pass by on charm. But this one doesn't have enough charm to actually ride the wave for a complete winner for all of its 108 minutes, even with its ridiculous ending (calling it a shaggy dog procedural might be nicer). As a whole, They Call Me Mister Tibbs! is a downgrade from the previous film in most of the aspects that matter and just isn't enough of a film to call a winner, managing to be a disappointment that lies in the shadow of the decade that would give out better films to offer in procedures and thrillers.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*What can I say, I watch old TV from time to time. The Wild Wild West is the other old show I'm on at the moment, I've done a whole bunch of TV watching on DVD such as The Fugitive, The Addams Family, The Munsters, Batman, Star Trek, The Twilight Zone, Lost in Space, and Get Smart.

Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny and Girly.

Review #2429: Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny and Girly.

Cast: 

Michael Bryant (New Friend), Ursula Howells (Mumsy), Pat Heywood (Nanny), Howard Trevor (Sonny), Vanessa Howard (Girly), Robert Swann (Soldier), and Imogen Hassall (Girlfriend)

Directed by Freddie Francis (#854 - They Came from Beyond Space, #856 - The Evil of Frankenstein, #860 - Dracula Has Risen from the Grave, #1145 - Tales from the Crypt, #1419 - Dr. Terror's House of Horrors, #2143 - Trog)

Review: 

Apparently, Freddie Francis wanted to just do a movie on his own without studio assignments in his way, and this is the end result. Francis enlisted the services of Brian Comport, who had provided written material for the 1968 documentary The London Nobody Knows. The adaptation material to freely crib little from was a play called The Happy Family, which had been written by Maisie Mosco that apparently was quite weird. All Francis wanted was to make sure that the film could be set and shot in Oakley Court, a castle that overlooks the River Thames in Bray, Berkshire, England that had been used for a handful of movies for exterior shooting. Comport wrote just three more screenplays: Moon (1970), Beware My Bretheren (1972) and The Asphynx (1972). He later moved to Australia to become a journalist and did corporate videos before he died in 2013. Reportedly, this was the movie that Francis admired best among the movies he directed as a filmmaker. The movie was released on VHS but not on DVD until 2010. An event to honor the film at the Court was done in 2015 and it may very well be possible to call this a cult favorite. While the movie had an opening in the States in early 1970 and a premiere in the United Kingdom in April, it only was released in its native country for theater showings in September, which as it turned out was just a few weeks before the release of Goodbye Gemini, a movie involving a pair of close siblings and its own implications of their closeness together. Apparently, the fact that a horror movie daring to show or hint at something controversial was shocking to media watchdogs (read: losers but are they the biggest losers imaginable?) that led to backlash and led to theaters not being big on wanting to screen the film. For whatever reason, the movie was called "Girly" outside the United Kingdom, which seems like a foolish thing to do.

Admittedly, it is a pretty British type of movie, dangling bits of humor in the fuss it has in manners in the same breath that sees quite a few people get hacked off. Sure, it isn't a bloody affair, but it has an unusually chipper attitude that I can't help but appreciate in the slow burn for 101 minutes. It is a cheery type of film for people that like macabre things with a worthwhile group to play the game in characterization. Mostly, it is up to the viewer to consider just how anybody goes around calling themselves Mumsy or if these folks are even related to each other at all. They just go around with devilish whimsy that happens to resonate well with the interesting choice of setting in such beautiful isolation. There is a morbid elegance to people trying to play house while corpses are around the place (don't forget that in one instance Sonny goes and records one of the murders to show as a snuff film later on) that I imagine would be extremely deserving for a following or at least recognition. Francis may not have been big on doing horror film after horror film as a director, but he at least had an eye for trying to make the best out of what could've easily just been silly British stuff. Howells and Heywood were the among most experienced actors in the film (i.e. more than a few) and they do a pretty good job in establishing the unsettling nature of play-acting in roles of alleged authority, one that has them more concerned about who finishes knitting first than the business of disposed bodies. Howard Trevor (not to be confused with Trevor Howard, as one might find when trying to Google) apparently made just one film as an actor and it was this one, while Howard had a handful of horror films and that was it, since she retired from acting not too long after getting married, doing just three more movies after Mumsy (All the Way Up [1970], The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer [1970], What Became of Jack and Jill? [1972]); she died in 2010 at the age of 62. Incidentally, a bench in her memory was dedicated at Oakley Court in 2015. She does a pretty unnerving job in making it more than just with a detached commitment that is more than just being a bit. It all collides with Bryant, who plays the lone detached force with clever interest, managing to maneuver around the strange order of things without just being a bland would-be final "guy" (well, at least by how the ending may, or may not, go in the long run...). As a whole, Mumsy is a strange piece of macabre amusement, one that plays with its environment and expectations for a few enjoyable moments within the horror of people bound to structure and the ones who have the misfortune to have to try and adjust to it without losing their head. If you like seeing movies that deserved better from the time it was made, this one may be up your alley.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Vampire Lovers.

Review #2284: The Vampire Lovers.

Cast: 

Ingrid Pitt (Marcilla/Carmilla/Mircalla Karnstein), Pippa Steel (Laura Spielsdorf), Madeline Smith (Emma Morton), Peter Cushing (General Spielsdorf), George Cole (Roger Morton), Dawn Addams (the Countess), Kate O'Mara (Mademoiselle Perrodot), Douglas Wilmer (Baron Joachim von Hartog), Jon Finch (Carl Ebhardt), Ferdy Mayne (The Doctor), Kirsten Lindholm (the First Vampire), and John Forbes-Robertson (the Man in Black) Directed by Roy Ward Baker (#1742 - The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires. #2106 - Scars of Dracula, #2120 - The Vault of Horror)

Review: 

Well, it was the dawn of the 1970s and therefore the dawn of trying to do something a bit different with vampire movies...The Vampire Lovers was the first of what is considered a "Karnstein Trilogy". All three films were produced by Hammer to go along with having a screenplay by Tudor Gates. Each had a different company responsible for getting it shown in the States, with this one being a co-production between Hammer and American International Pictures. The film uses the Gothic novella Carmilla (as serialized by Sheridan Le Fanu from 1871 to 1872; he died the following year), which involved a woman being prey to a female vampire that is later revealed be a Countess Karnstein. Harry Fine and Michael Style produced the film together and wrote the adaptation with Gates. Baker was once again directing a film (already noted for A Night to Remember (1958) and TV work) with Hammer after having done work for them with Quatermass and the Pit (1967), The Anniversary (1968), and Moon Zero Two (1969) It was the only one of the films to have AIP involved. The next two films of the trilogy were each released in 1971 with Lust for a Vampire (as directed by Jimmy Sangster with Yutte Stensgaard and Mike Raven as the new Karnsteins) and Twins of Evil (as directed by John Hough with Damien Thomas and Katya Wyeth as Karnsteins alongside the Collinson sisters)

Admittedly, one does get what they were looking for in leering power with as many bosoms as there are vampires. You have to love a movie that gives a warning on the poster that it is "Not for the mentally immature". It probably isn't as vaunted in devastating power of lurid sex and violence as one might wonder about, but it is a neat gem worth giving some interest for its craftsmanship in the long run. You get your melodrama that will build the inevitable in hunting and tombs and all that stuff that matters, albeit in a split format that gets you a head-chopping early before getting into the cyclical nature of a woman falling into the habit of being friendly with a young lady (first with Steel and then with Smith). Pitt went on to do other vampire-related films such as Countess Dracula (1971) to go along with dabbling in writing (such as Bedside Companion for Vampire Lovers). She had a clear view of how it felt to do films like these that works out here for alluring charm, one who plays it all much like a cat playing with the things around them (so not exactly in a carnal way). Smith probably plays it a bit too much like a deer in the headlights in innocence, but it does lend itself to some amusing moments when she and Pitt engage in play. You don't get as much of Cushing as you might wonder about, but I suppose not every vampire film with him needs to be him giving you exposition, though funny still to see him paired with Wilmer (who like Cushing played Sherlock Holmes), which works out fine. It's strange that there even is a "man in black" watching the proceedings at all to go along with nightmares of cats (vampires, cats, black-and-white, get it?). The vampire death gives you something different: stake to the chest and a head-chopping, although it probably is most striking to see a painting turn decrepit for that last shot. In general, it delivers allure in the gradual display of lurid entertainment you would expect in terms of appealing women and the patience to make the display of deja vu lady vampirism work out without seeming tired or out of its element. 

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Count Yorga, Vampire.

Review #2283: Count Yorga, Vampire.

Cast:

Robert Quarry (Count Yorga), Roger Perry (Dr. James "Jim" Hayes), Michael Murphy (Paul), Michael Macready (Michael "Mike" Thompson), Donna Anderson (Donna), Judy Lang (Erica Landers), Edward Walsh (Brudah), Julie Conners (Cleo), Paul Hansen (Peter), and Sybil Scotford (Judy) Written and Directed by Bob Kelljan.

Review: 

Admittedly, you really could make a vampire movie out of any half-baked idea if you have enough luck involved. Michael Macready was a producer that wanted to make a movie with Bob Kelljan on the cheap in softcore horror, tentatively calling their movie "The Loves of Count Iorga"; Kelljan had made his debut as a director with the skin flick Flesh of My Flesh (1969), which he starred and co-produced with Macready. They asked Robert Quarry about possibly doing their softcore movie. He had done a handful of features in either small or uncredited nature while in a small theater group that happened to include Macready. Quarry wanted to do a "straight horror movie", although they compromised and shot a few scenes that could be used as softcore if the film wasn't going well. His recollections of the film stated that there were just four crewmembers and a budget of just under $100,000 (he shot the film in the night while shooting a small part in WUSA [1970] in the day). The result, as distributed by American International Pictures (who made the suggestion to go with "Yorga" for easier pronunciation) was a hit. A sequel came up immediately with The Return of Count Yorga, which was directed and written by Kelljan. Quarry wanted to do a third film (apparently wanting to do one where he is broken and recovering in the sewers); The Deathmaster (1973) sometimes gets confused as related to Count Yorga due to its killer vampire (now a hippie), complete with AIP promoting the movie with similar beats to Yorga. As for Kelljan, he directed three further films (Scream Blacula Scream, Act of Vengeance, Black Oak Conspiracy) before going on to direct in television prior to his death in 1982; the rights for any Yorga film lapsed to Macready, who Quarry did not want to work with. 

While Quarry did not become a grand star of stature with AIP (who due to Yorga had him for a contract with ideas of succeeding Vincent Price as their guy) due to their fading status in horror, he was quite happy with his experiences making the Yorga films and recollected his experiences often prior to his death in 2009. You don't have that many vampire movies set in its current day for that era, unless you want to dig in for films such as The Return of the Vampire, The Return of Dracula or The Vampire. It does prove to be a slick little movie, one that benefits from its modern setting with the sinister elegance leading the way from Quarry. It isn't often you get to see a séance lead off a movie (after narration from George Macready, son of Michael), that much is for sure. Quarry plays off the title role as a mystic that glides from scene to scene for a movie that is sometimes offbeat and sometimes funny for 93 minutes. This works out for better or worse because of the fact that the rest of the actors are only mildly interesting to begin with, unless you count Walsh playing a murky-looking heavy. The folks get into the vampire belief schtick a bit early, which is somewhat amusing. Some of the time you can tell where the budget ends and where the soft stuff could play out (particularly with one bit involving two ladies), but at least it isn't too skimpy on the weird nature of vampire-people relations. The ending is at least interesting for where exactly it ends up even with the usual "sure, the threat is dead..." bit, mainly because it ends on a freeze-frame that actually seems earned for once. In general, it might be an average horror film by the usual merits one would approach the genre, but it is generally involving enough to win out with a suitable enough lead presence and some interesting moments of blood to make one at least be curious to inquire further with Quarry and company.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Watermelon Man.

Review #2184: Watermelon Man.

Cast: 

Godfrey Cambridge (Jeff Gerber), Estelle Parsons (Althea Gerber), Howard Caine (Mr. Townsend), D'Urville Martin (Bus Driver), Mantan Moreland (Counterman), Kay Kimberley (Erica), Kay E. Kuter (Dr. Wainwright), Scott Garrett (Burton Gerber), Erin Moran (Janice Gerber), Irving Selbst (Mr. Johnson), and Emil Sitka (Delivery Man) Directed by Melvin Van Peebles (#1970 - Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song)

Review: 

There was one film made by Melvin Van Peebles under a major studio, and, well, here is that result. The brainchild for the film actually was from Herman Raucher. He had been an ad executive in the time that he had started writing for live television (often considered as the Golden Age of Television) before focusing more on writing, which also included the stage. Sweet November (1968) was his first screenplay that he did for film. before he co-wrote a script with Anthony Newley for Can Heironymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe and Find True Happiness? [1969]. The basis for what became this film was what Raucher saw from his liberal friends when it came to prejudicial habits. Columbia Pictures liked what they saw but felt they needed a black director. Enter Melvin Van Peebles, who had directed The Story of a Three-Day Pass to critical notice on the festival circuit in 1968 (after having to move to Europe in the first place to even get a shot at making features despite his experience with shorts). Believe it or not, there were other titles considered for the film: The Night the Sun Came Out and The Night the Sun Came Out on Happy Hollow Lane. It was Van Peebles who steered the casting for Cambridge, because Columbia seriously had ideas of casting someone like Jack Lemmon...for the whole film. Raucher took the screenplay with its intended ending and turned it into a novel after clashes with Van Peebles on set about the approach of the film, since he had envisioned a satire rather than a film of black empowerment. The ending differed from the film (seriously, Raucher wanted it to end as if the whole thing was a "nightmare") because Van Peebles told Columbia to let him shoot multiple endings and he simply shot only the one he was going to use and "forgot" to shoot the other one. The result was a movie that made a bit over a million dollars on release in 1970. Raucher is perhaps best known today for his next major effort as a writer with a memoir that he had written based on his experiences as a youth in the summer of 1942 that took ages to get off the ground for a film that became Summer of '42 in 1971, with both the film and book being runaway hits. As for Van Peebles, well, the film was a hit, but he wanted to go with a different approach in mind with his next effort and that result was Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song. A book about the film and its legacy was only just released in 2023.

You have to remember that this was a film about poking fun at white people in a certain way. People are weird, but this weirdness becomes apparent in a particular way when one's worldview is thrown for a loop, whether that involves a new experience in work or, well, something a bit more offbeat in having their skin turn a new color. It isn't as easy to look on the world a certain way when one's reality is different, especially when it now involves one's perceived "tolerant" significant other. In the words of the film and its music (as done by Van Peebles), “naw, this ain't America, you can't fool me." Cambridge happened to have this film and Cotton Comes to Harlem release on the same day (May 27), which surely must have been a fun double-header for those who loved the celebrated comedian, who had once received a Tony Award nomination for his work on Broadway eight years prior. It is a shame that we did not see Cambridge get a chance to do further work as an actor before his sudden death in 1976 (at age 43), because his dry timing works exquisitely well here in conveying the dueling methods of both situation comedy and sly satire of now being a black man in a world that likes to shine a bright light on certain things. Whiteface makeup and all, he sells the personality shift that comes in making humor from both a man who had ridiculous notions of amusement as someone comfortable in their life (running to the bus stop, making cracks about seeing race riots) and then the other side in being thought as an "other" in both business and as a person. Parsons (already a noted supporting presence in film and stage) reflects the sensibilities of the bleeding-heart liberal that reflects pretty well today when it comes to the illusions of tolerance...to a certain point, which works pretty well to the film's advantage in that certain kind of chuckle. Among the supporting presences, consider Moreland, who had once been at the forefront of comedy in steady work in vaudeville and film before the late 1940s saw a reassessment of how black people were portrayed on screen when it came to stereotypes had seen him appear in film less by the 1950s. This was the third-to-last film with Moreland, who died in 1973 at the age of 71. He and Martin have distinct reactions when looking on Cambridge, who went from happy-go-lucky "barbs" to some other type of observation that is curious to try and define. People are far more than their job or their color, but it takes action to get things across. There are a handful of scenes one could highlight when it comes to that growing feeling of metamorphosis, such as Cambridge trying to get calls from the doctor only to have to hear with ones threatening him to leave home (with a certain word used for emphasis) that strikes differently when presented with a dry presence acting it out. Of course, the scene where he bargains his own house away by playing to stereotypes is also pretty funny when one gets down to it. As a whole, the film rests on the amusement of its situations and how timely it all still seems now for a worthwhile showcase in director and star that shows a certain type of empowerment worth letting play out on its own terms.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.

Review #2153: Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.

Cast: 

Dolly Read (Kelly MacNamara), Cynthia Myers (Casey Anderson), Marcia McBroom (Petronella Danforth), John LaZar (Ronnie "Z-Man" Barzell), Michael Blodgett (Lance Rocke), David Gurian (Harris Allsworth), Edy Williams (Ashley St. Ives), Erica Gavin (Roxanne), Phyllis Davis (Susan Lake), Harrison Page (Emerson Thorne), Duncan McLeod (Porter Hall), James Iglehart (Randy Black), Charles Napier (Baxter Wolfe), and Henry Rowland (Otto) Directed by Russ Meyer (#1420 - Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! and #1872 - Motorpsycho)

Review: 

 "A soap opera for young people, a cornocopia of wild, way-out now entertainment." - Russ Meyer

"I think of it as an essay on our generic expectations. It's an anthology of stock situations, characters, dialogue, clichés and stereotypes, set to music and manipulated to work as exposition and satire at the same time; it's cause and effect, a wind-up machine to generate emotions, pure movie without message." - Roger Ebert

Remember Valley of the Dolls (1967)? That was the movie adaptation of Jacqueline Susann's novel that was a magnificent failure that the author literally knew was crap from the first time she saw it on a cruise premiere. It was a goofy movie, but it was a popular film when it came to "hey, got another idea?" There was an idea to do one potentially with Susann involved (who else could come up with a title idea like this?) complete with her husband producer Irving Mansfield involved somewhere. But, well, things go awry sometimes, so it fell into the hands of others. Of course, Susann had other things to focus on, since her book The Love Machine was turned into a film in 1971. Richard Zanuck of 20th Century Fox came upon Meyer because (in Meyer's words), "If a klutz like that can make a film that successfully and that attractive for $69,000, you ought to throw him a bone." Meyer had followed the 1965 trilogy of Mudhoney-Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!-Motorpsycho with a handful of exploitation films to go with others involving a mockumentary (Mondo Topless) and melodramas. Of course, one needs a writer to help go with Meyer and his ideas. Enter Roger Ebert (the future winner of a Pulitzer Prize for Criticism), who was a fan of Meyer since seeing The Immoral Mr. Teas (1959), which played for a few years in a theater in his hometown. They wrote a treatment in a number of days and a script a few weeks afterwards. Apparently, the characters of folks such as "Z-Man" were based on loose ideas of what Meyer and Ebert heard of real-life people, with that character being a take on Phil Spector (they didnt know him, but, well...). The climax came out of the blue when it came to a certain famous string of murders in August 1969. Fox released two X-rated films of note that year: this film and Myra Breckinridge (1970), which came out within a week of each other. The irony is pretty stunning: both movies are widely thought of as diversions from literary origins (if we are being technical about Susann here), both were made by people not particularly friendly with the studio system, both had critics in key roles of production (Rex Reed in the other, Ebert here), both had their share of vicious reviews, but only Beyond is remembered fondly. Meyer would do one more studio film with The Seven Minutes (1971), which was actually a courtroom drama about obscenity cases while Ebert would write for two more Meyer films.

Oh, I suppose there was a bit of controversy about the film being an X-rated feature released as a wry parody of that Susann book that she didn't like very much or something. Apparently when Meyer heard about the X rating (he and the studio were aiming for R, and the rating today probably would've been around there), he wanted to include more footage of sex and nudity, but the studio didn't have time. The film was a wild success with audiences (compared to its budget of under $1 million, it made ten times that) but was a critical target by, well, people who must have had Easy Rider (1969) still up their nose. This amuses me, because Beyond the Valley of the Dolls smashes Valley of the Dolls into a fine pulp in literally every sense of the word: actors that actually seem ready to give a crap about doing their job for their director, entertainment value for what it is rather than to giggle at the attempts of execution, and, well, you get the idea. Thank heavens that this film has a cult following, because it sure as hell deserves it more than that plastic boredom of the 1967 film (incidentally, when Criterion wanted to give Beyond a Blu-Ray release, Fox only budged after many years when they had them do a deal to release Valley on there as well). It is a brutally fun movie because the actors are giving it there all in handling the chaos of the moment that does not let you linger on something for very long. This is a movie that involves a handful of things to note: an opening title sequence ending with a gun in someone's mouth, a nude woman all in black, actual dialogue of "BENTLEY!", and, well, a man in a Nazi outfit. Aside from Napier (first seen in film with Meyer's Cherry, Harry & Raquel! (1969)- full frontal no less), none of the names present here would become regular presences in films. And yet, we have a spectacular experience because of them and how they handle the lurid world of exaggerations that only seems sensible to have a scene where someone dresses up as Robin from the 60s Batman series. They were directed where Meyer wanted them to not know the lines were meant to be funny because it would ruin the effect. Read was a Playboy pinup with no starring roles in film before or since this film, but you never get the feeling you are watching a boring amateur. Okay, maybe from Gurian, but he at least is meant to be a square so the things that happen to him is worth admission. Blodgett has the face and timing of a man there to make a hustle and he sells it right for the moment needed at the end. These are folks in their element, which namely is soap opera manic energy of sex, drugs, and whatever you would call rock and roll here. McLeod (with a character named for a known actor) makes a quality cad square in the mix. LaZar might as well be playing a devil figure with how he maneuvers through chaos and curiosity in a manner that is fit strangely well in the modern sense. When the climax finally does hit, it is as "spur of the moment" as it comes for all the glory needed. Describing it just doesn't do justice, because it really is quite the thing to see for oneself. The narration at the end to go with a wedding is only the cherry on top of the wind-up machine of masterful manipulation. The film is one where you have to see it to believe such vision cam be done uninhibited with its own type of unique chaos that could only come once in a blue moon. When it comes to wild films that actually mean what they want to do, why would you not pick this one among the first group? It endures for a half century because it rules hard as a midnight movie that chews up the showbiz tale and spits out gold that only a regular film viewer could love. 

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Trog.

Review #2143: Trog.

Cast: 

Joan Crawford (Dr. Brockton), Michael Gough (Sam Murdock), Bernard Kay (Inspector Greenham), Kim Braden (Anne Brockton), David Griffin (Malcolm Travers), John Hamill (Cliff), Thorley Walters (Magistrate), Jack May (Dr. Selbourne), Geoffrey Case (Bill), Simon Lack (Lt. Colonel Vickers), Chloe Franks (Little Girl), and Joe Cornelius (Trog) Directed by Freddie Francis (#854 - They Came from Beyond Space, #856 - The Evil of Frankenstein, #860 - Dracula Has Risen from the Grave, #1145 - Tales from the Crypt, #1419 - Dr. Terror's House of Horrors)

Review: 

"What a terrible film that was. I did it because of Joan Crawford, and poor Joan by this time was a very sad old lady. We had to have idiot cards all over the place because she couldn't remember her lines. It was the last thing she ever did and she shouldn’t have done it. Neither should I. She had no friends, and she kept writing sad letters to my wife and I until she died."

Okay, so you might be wondering just what the appeal for this film is. Well, it was a horror film that just happens to be the last film appearance of Joan Crawford. By the year of 1970, she had appeared in over eighty films in nearly a half-century of work in films to go with a handful of television appearances (one of those notably saw her perform a role several years younger than her - she was filling in for her sick daughter on a soap opera!). But this was her last film before her death in 1977 at the reported age of 69. The 1960s saw her go from starting with What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) to ending with Berserk! (1967). That latter film was produced by Herman Cohen, who happened to produce this film. Three writers were credited for this film: Peter Bryan, John Gilling, and Aben Kandel (the first two had previously collaborated on The Plague of the Zombies while the latter was a mainstay on Cohen productions, even at the ripe age of 73). It's a shame for Francis to be here directing a horror film like this, because while he wasn't exactly pleased to be pigeonholed as a director of the medium (he was once quoted as saying horror films liked him more than he liked horror films), he was an acclaimed cameraman. This is the man who shot Sons and Lovers (1960) and later Glory (1989), winners of Academy Awards for cinematography. Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny and Girly (1970), his previous effort as a director, was one he was quite proud of even though it took a few years to become a cult favorite. While this film wasn't exactly a hit for anyone, Francis would stay busy as a director for the rest of the decade, which included The Vampire Happening (a West German comedy horror film that apparently was just as bad of an experience for Francis released in 1971), and, well, Craze (1974), the last production spearheaded by Cohen.

You're kidding me, right? This is the way a vaunted actress such as Joan Crawford went out? Wearing her own wardrobe while apparently enjoying quite the amount of alcohol? This is such a miserable film when it comes to the amount of time it spends in trying to establish credibility with some sort of ungodly presentation of nurture and nature that has no sense of tension or doing anything beyond making one wonder just long before you get to see the silly mask again. Supposedly, the outfit for the title character was cribbed from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), but I guess they got the worst outfit of the bunch, because it is a very sad looking thing to say the least. The fact that the film has the balls to re-use footage that had been produced by Willis O'Brien and Ray Harryhausen for The Animal World (1956) for a sequence involving dinosaurs is probably the most hilarious part of a movie that has nowhere to go but digging up from the pit that it has buried itself by the first half of a 93-minute movie of amusement. Crawford may or may not be under the influence of some liquor (vodka, reportedly) or cue cards, but there is definitely something stilted about her role in the film, which never really manages to make a compelling argument for why anyone would care for Trog in the first place (this is a beast that we first see kill folks in a cave, remember). Seeing her try to show the creature colors and play catch with it only furthers this amusement that comes full circle when you realize, yes, she really did bring her own colorful clothes for this. Honestly, I was expecting her character to become another victim of the beast to close the circle, because, well, wouldn't that be a surprise to have someone who was completely on Trog's side just get blindsided? Gough just comes off as the most obvious strawman when it comes to "beast bad", most amusingly coming for the court scenes that see him continuously interrupt the proceedings until he finally gets kicked out after like the 4th time this happens. I think the death sequence (hell, you know it was coming) is especially amusing, because he lets the beast go and seems completely unplanned for, well, getting the hell away from the one thing that could kill him like it was a cockroach ASAP. Kay and the others don't chuckle at the material in the same way one might see from even the lesser Hammer film experiences. This is the kind of thing that can appreciated for folks such as, say, John Waters when it comes to the cheapies, but this is just one of those dubious British films where the material lives and dies on just how much the actors care, and the answer here is "slim". Kitsch for some sure, but this is just crap.

Overall, I give it 3 out of 10 stars.

Turkey Week 4 is upon us, folks. From November 19 to November 25, enjoy a round of cruddy "turkey" films to enjoy the Thanksgiving season. Trog is merely an appetizer for some rancid films to come, which will see a return of such great voices like Uwe Boll and Neil Breen and more. Enjoy the suck, because the next few films are much worse than this. House of the Dead, for example....

The Horror of Frankenstein.

Review #2107: The Horror of Frankenstein.

Cast: 

Ralph Bates (Baron Victor Frankenstein), Kate O'Mara (Alys), Veronica Carlson (Elizabeth Heiss), Dennis Price (the Graverobber), Jon Finch (Lieutenant Henry Becker), Bernard Archard (Professor Heiss), Graham James (Wilhelm Kassner), James Hayter (Bailiff), Joan Rice (the Graverobber's Wife), and David Prowse (The Monster) Produced and Directed by Jimmy Sangster.

Review: 

...I'm sure you remember the Frankenstein series as set by Hammer. It had started with The Curse of Frankenstein in 1957 as directed by Terence Fisher with Jimmy Sangster (a production manager who did not particularly like working as one and had never thought about being a writer before, well, becoming one with his debut X the Unknown from the previous year) providing the script. A sequel followed one year later with Revenge (which featured Fisher as director and Sangster as writer) before the 1960s saw three further films in The Evil of Frankenstein (1964), Frankenstein Created Woman (1967), and Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969). All of those films starred Peter Cushing as Victor Frankenstein with their own distinct levels of villainy to the character, whether that involved using hypnotists to bring back the monster, soul catching of recently deceased people, or trying to take advantage of the secrets of an insane man that sees the doctor being carried into a burning building (and, for some sick reason by a producer, a rape scene). I think you can see where the series felt the need to do something a bit familiar but with a "younger push" with Ralph Bates instead of Peter Cushing. This was the first film Sangster directed and one of just three in total, with the others being Lust for a Vampire (1971) and Fear in the Night (1972). Sangster was first approached to do rewrites on a script that had been done by Jeremy Burnham, an actor-turned-writer (in his first and only script for films). Apparently, Sangster was not particularly interested in what seemed like to just be a remake of his 1957 script until Hammer offered him a deal to do a re-write along with produce and direct the film, which opened the door for him to inject a good deal of dark comedy in it. Hammer would make one further film involving Frankenstein (with Cushing returning) in Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1974).

The film is okay in some respects, but you can really see the seams and limits of where the series could go in the eyes of Hammer. It is a bit of light fun, but one already had a pretty good Frankenstein film three years before that, one a couple years before that, and so on. It is the law of diminishing returns with this film, which isn't nearly as compelling with its lead actor despite the best efforts to do so to go with a middling climax that doesn't have the energy or the timing to make it matter for anything. Bates had his first prominent film role with Taste the Blood of Dracula, released just a few months earlier in 1970, and he would appear in various other Hammer productions the following year in Lust for a Vampire and Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde. He does make a curious Frankenstein here and there, but the script seemingly forgets whether to treat him as a heel that one awaits to see their comeuppance or a tragic figure, which makes for a curious observation that deserved better. He seems ripe for either a really deranged role or something with a semblance of interesting dignity, and it is a shame he never became the successor actor that Hammer would probably have preferred to see in the 1970s when the company was in need of something to counter the diminishing interest of American funding. His best sequence might be the one where he is confronted with someone who doesn't want to go through with retrieving body parts, and he pretends to go along with quitting only to almost immediately electrocute them without saying a word. Carlson was actually in the last Frankenstein film, but she isn't exactly given that much to do that proves interesting, which is amusing when the only other feminine contrast is O'Mara that plays it with the hinges of a cheesy soap opera. Price is at least semi-funny when it comes to graverobbing for those small moments. In general, though, the movie lacks a true center when it comes to a lack of things for the creature (as portrayed by Prowse, who returned for the aforementioned next Frankenstein film) to really do, which is quite unfortunate. Like the first film, the monster is dissolved in acid, albeit without the plot device of it being told as a long flashback but because a kid haphazardly presses something to have it happen (in theory it would set up a sequel, but, well, these films only loosely follow any sort of rules anyway). In the end, neither of Hammer's attempts at reinventing Dracula or Frankenstein for 1970 are particularly any good, but those familiar with the series (whether as an admirer or as a completionist) will surely stick through with it and let it pass at least once without rolling their eyes too many times.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Scars of Dracula.

Review #2106: Scars of Dracula.

Cast: 

Dennis Waterman (Simon Carlson), Christopher Lee (Count Dracula), Jenny Hanley (Sarah Framsen), Christopher Matthews (Paul Carlson), Patrick Troughton (Klove), Anouska Hempel (Tania), Michael Ripper (Landlord), and Michael Gwynn (The Priest) Directed by Roy Ward Baker (#1742 - The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires)

Review: 

The Hammer rendition of Dracula had a strange experiment of sorts in 1970. Consider the fact that it saw two films released involving Christopher Lee in the title role: Taste the Blood of Dracula was released in May while this film was released in November, complete with being released on the same day as The Horror of Frankenstein (1970). The film starts with, well, a sort-of resurrection sequence for Dracula, which involves a bat (on a string) throwing up blood onto him while he is around in a stone chamber totally closed off to all except, well, bats. The attempt by the villagers to strike upon the castle and take down Dracula only results in a burnt castle and the death of several people by vampire bats when the villagers arrive back to the churches to their loved ones. It takes about a third of the film (one that lasts 95 minutes) before one gets to hear Lee speak, which works out perhaps a bit better this time around when it comes to plot construction, or at least the idea of it. Lee was quite busy in the role of Dracula that year, since he also starred in Count Dracula (1970), the Jesus Franco production that somehow wasn't any better than the Hammer Dracula films, and Baker was busy with vampire films too with the release of The Vampire Lovers (1970). The script was written by Anthony Hinds, who actually was the son of William Hinds, the founder of Hammer Film Productions (it was Anthony who had suggested Hammer go after the screen rights to The Quartermass Experiment from the BBC). He had written for the previous four Dracula films (The Brides of Dracula, Dracula: Prince of Darkness, Dracula Has Risen from the Grave and Taste, respectively)

The series was already quite over-the-top if you think about it, considering that one of them saw the vampire get taken down by running water (or having three films in a row where the lead male presence besides Lee plays a character named Paul), so the idea of him going around using a knife on someone and then sucking their blood is about on point. The film does dwell a bit on the gore when it comes to the opening (vampire bat ravaging, anyone?), which probably is there to make up for a story that is paler than the previous renditions. It is evident where Hammer would get the idea to try and revitalize the series with "A.D. 1972", that is for sure, and it starts with thinking to do anything other than try another weak lead to counter the title character. Lee had grown tired of the role even before the release of his final film as Dracula (he often stated that the scripts seemed as if Dracula was added in later), but at least one can detect where he tried his best to capture what he felt was defined by Bram Stoker in the original novel when it comes to (in his words) "aloof majesty, ferocity of dignity, and of somber mystery". In short, there are no bad performances when it comes to Lee as Dracula. The bar for the films with him may have had their highs and lows, but at least Lee looks the part. Waterman was apparently more known for tough-guy roles, which probably explains why the role doesn't really have any bite present when it comes to playing off the mysteries of what one has seen before from folks encountering a spooky place where the villagers play pretend. The only notable supporting member might be Troughton, if only because, well, a sniveling helper to Dracula played by someone familiar to viewers of a certain British TV show is worth a chuckle. The climax is more amusing in the execution rather than as a way to end things on a useful note, since it sees Dracula grab a metal beam that had been thrust on him only to see the beam get struck by lightning that results in him being on fire to writhe around before falling out of the castle. As a whole, it definitely isn't one of the better efforts by Hammer, seemingly satisfying just the bare minimum for what you would hope to have from them that makes for a mediocre time. 

Now, as for the Frankenstein film that came with it...

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Count Dracula.

Review #1913: Count Dracula.

Cast: 

Christopher Lee (Count Dracula), Herbert Lom (Professor Abraham Van Helsing), Klaus Kinski (R.M. Renfield), Frederick Williams (Jonathan Harker), Maria Rohm (Mina Murray), Soledad Miranda (Lucy Westenra), Paul Muller (Dr. John "Jack" Seward), Jack Taylor (Quincey Morris), Jesús Puente (the Minister of Interior), and Franco Castellani (Renfield's Warden) Directed by Jesús Franco.

Review: 

Consider, for a moment, the state of Dracula movies in 1970. I think we can agree there are two actors you can think of when it comes to Count Dracula: Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee. Lee first played the role for Hammer Film Productions in Dracula (1958), which also featured Peter Cushing as Van Helsing. Lee didn't return for The Brides of Dracula (1960), but he would return for the next couple of films with Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966), and Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968). Now here we are in 1970...with Christopher Lee playing the role of the Count in three films (as star, not counting any guest appearances), two of them from Hammer. Taste the Blood of Dracula was released in May while Scars of Dracula was released in November. But we are here to talk about the odd man out: Count Dracula, released in April of 1970 as a production between Spain, Italy, West Germany, Liechtenstein, and the United Kingdom. An experimental film comprised from behind-the-scenes footage from the making of this film (which shows how the effects and sets were designed) was shot in high-contrast black-and-white that was called Cuadecuc, vampir (1971), which was directed by Pere Portabella. Lee would do a few more movies as Dracula, which even included a comedy with Dracula and Son (1976). Oh, but there is one more thing to consider: This was directed by Jesus Franco, a Spanish filmmaker proficient in many, many, many exploitation / B-grade movies (as done in Spain, France, West Germany, Switzerland, and Portugal) who directed from 1959 to 2014 that specialized in sex and sadism in his horror features (for which there are nearly 200 of them), which varied in budget depending on who was his producer. Harry Alan Towers, who he shot nine films for, was the producer on this film, which evidently was presented as a more faithful adaptation of Bram Stoker's novel (incidentally, Towers was behind the production of films that had Lee star as Fu Manchu). Well, at least as faithful as one can be, anyway, because not even the death sequence in the climax matches the book (as opposed to being stabbed with knives...here he dies in a fire). At least Lee's Dracula changes in age throughout the movie. There are a handful of writers: Erich Kröhnke did the story, while Augusto Finocchi and Jesus Franco did the screenplay, but there are others responsible depending on the language version: Harry Alan Towers did the English screenplay, while Dietmar Behnke did the German script and Milo G. Cuccia and Carlo Fadda did the Italian version.

So, when looking at the Dracula movies played by Lee (not counting the comedy), there is an undeniable appeal...it sure is a shame that it is not nearly as good as even the most average Hammer Dracula movie. Imagine being outclassed by Dracula movies that see an atheist-turned Christian lead hero. Well, the movie may be hampered by a low budget when it comes to failing to live to expectations, but the real problem is that the movie is just not exciting enough. It seems too static to go anywhere beyond what might have worked on television than a film experience. Granted, telling a book that is comprised of diaries for a film is hard, but there isn't an interesting perspective to really latch onto here. The 97-minute runtime moves with pale pacing that doesn't have a single striking element beyond just having Lee look slightly more interested to play the role with dialogue than usual. So yes, when viewing performances on a curve, his performances usually reflect the energy of the movie more than anything, which means he is the best part of a dull time despite not being his best portrayal of the character. Lom was apparently cast after Franco's first choice of Vincent Price fell through (my God, could you imagine how Price would have been? Oops, where were we?). Lom is technically a wise choice to counteract Lee as Van Helsing, mildly dignified in what is needed despite a silly script. He may not compare well to say, Peter Cushing (who went 12 years between portrayals), but he does fine in the exposition sequences, even if Lom and Lee don't share a scene on screen together (since heaven forbid both actors be on set at the same time). The core of Williams, Rohm, Miranda, and Muller are not particularly special, and this is a problem when Dracula isn't around for a good chunk of the feature (you know, the time after the Transylvania sequence). Kinski barely has anything to do besides a handful of "weird" moments involving flies and yep, it sure is a shame to be outclassed by Dwight Frye without saying a word. The silliest thing is not Dracula's death but instead a sequence where our characters are being stalked by deadly animals...that are stuffed. At least it makes one a bit complimentary to Francis Ford Coppola trying to do his own "faithful adaptation" of the book 22 years later. In short: Count Dracula may seem more like the book, but it doesn't come close to the exploitative fun that came from the Hammer movies, which means this movie is only worth watching if one is really into seeing Christopher Lee in movies or like cheesy horror movies. Don't take my word for it, Terence Fisher (who directed Lee in the first Dracula film twelve years prior) was quoted as saying “For the first ten minutes I thought, my God, it’s better than mine – and then I thought no it’s not!” I cannot recommend the movie as a good one, but if one really wants to see something with Lee or Franco, well, here is something to bite on if better movies aren't easier to find. A stinker is a stinker, but some stinkers are more fun to write about than others as opposed to actually sitting down and watching it.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Happy Halloween, everyone. I hope you have enjoyed the horror reviews in October and enjoy your holiday time....and stay tuned for November.

Wanda.

Review #1816: Wanda (1970).

Cast: 

Barbara Loden (Wanda Goronski), Michael Higgins (Norman Dennis), Frank Jourdano (The soldier), Valerie Manches (The girl in the roadhouse), Dorothy Shupenes (Wanda's sister), Peter Shupenes (Wanda's brother-in-law), Jerome Thier (Wanda's husband), Marian Thier (Miss Godek), Anthony Rotell (Tony), and M. L. Kennedy (Judge) Written and Directed by Barbara Loden.

Review: 

"When I made Wanda, I didn't know anything about consciousness raising or women's liberation. That had just started when the film was finished. The picture was not about women's liberation. It was really about the oppression of women, of people... Being a woman is unexplored territory, and we're pioneers of a sort, discovering what it means to be a woman."

Being one of a kind is a curious thing, particularly when the one involves a solitary film made by a director. Barbara Loden was born in North Carolina with an isolated upbringing before moving to New York, where she started out as a model and chorus-line dancer when she moved to New York to escape her isolated upbringing. Loden became interested in acting through Paul Mann, who taught the Method form at the Actors Studio (after spending years without a nerve to act); she started with The Ernie Kovacs Show in 1955 and started a handful of appearances on the stage two years later. She did not appreciate acting in film, but she appeared in two of Elia Kazan's features with Wild River (1960) and Splendor in the Grass (1961). Of course, her most famous role might actually be her performance in the 1964 production of After the Fall, which won her a Tony Award that year. This would be her only theatrical effort, although she would direct two educational shorts for the Learning Corporation of America. Loden died in 1980 at the age of 48, having suffered from breast cancer.

Wanda has been compared to being more similar to John Cassavetes in tone as opposed to features that she considered "slick" when it comes to making a movie involving a woman joining up with a robber on the run. Rather than making a movie that was "too perfect to be believable" in slick technique. In fact, she later stated that it was the "anti-Bonnie and Clyde" (whether one actually believes that film to be unrealistic is debatable). Loden aimed for cinema vérité, complete with filming in 16mm. Of course, instead of filming in the South, she had to shoot closer and settled for the mining towns of Carbondale and Scranton in Pennsylvania. It was both inspired by a newspaper account of a female accomplice who thanked a judge when sent to jail for her crime and also semi-autobiographical. The movie was made by a crew of four people: Loden, Nicolas T. Proferes, and two crewmen as lighting/sound assistants. Proferes was the cinematographer and editor, and he helped Loden was framing and compositing a majority of the shots. Apparently, the wardrobe for Higgins was a collection of Elia Kazan's old clothes.

The only people to talk about in this movie is Loden and Higgins, since they are the only professionals present and as such are the ones engaging with a variety of improvised scenes together. There is a curious duet present with two characters who are essentially spiraling into nothingness in different ways, bereft of any expectations of chemistry with accompanying numbness. Loden moves through her scenes with the energy of a mannequin that is aptly appropriate for a film like this, while Higgins forms the other side of the coin of born losers, filled with stubborn pride that refuses to stay down. With 103 minutes, one might not find many surprises within narrative, but it does stay on level with its aim of aimlessness that means predictability for the right occasions - no real start, no real ending, no problem. Look, do you want a movie about an ordinary person with no intentional redeeming qualities? Do you want a film that is "one of a kind"? Well, at least one can get the chance, since it was recently restored by the efforts of the UCLA Film & Television Archive. The movie did receive a bit of attention upon release (it won the International Critics' Prize for Best Film at the 31st Venice International Film Festival), but it lapsed into obscurity for a number of years with varying discussions over its content, where one critic described the main character as a "sad, ignorant slut" (no, not written by a man, but there was one who said "nobody likes a victim", so...), but there were small arguments made for the film as a work of feminism. I myself can't exactly say the film is a masterpiece, because one knows there are more engaging films out there within the perspective of a woman, but it certainly strikes well as an achievement for all one-shot wonders out there who want to get their story out there. It is the film for folks who aren't looking for tension or "slickness", and the overall content would suggest that Loden did succeed. Saying it is "good enough" seems just about right for this film.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: The Other Side of the Underneath.

El Topo.

Review #1794: El Topo.

Cast: 

Alejandro Jodorowsky (El Topo), Brontis Jodorowsky (Hijo / Topo's son), José Legarreta (Moribundo), Alfonso Arau (Bandido 1), José Luis Fernández (Bandido 2), Ali Junco (Bandido 3), Gerardo Zepeda (Bandido 4), René Barrera (Bandido 5), René Alís (Bandido 6), Federico Gonzáles (Bandido 7), Vicente Lara (Bandido 8), Pablo Leder (Monje 1), Giuliano Girini Sasseroli (Monje 2), Cristian Merkel (Monje 3), Aldo Grumelli (Monje 4), and Mara Lorenzio (Marah / La mujer - The Woman) Written and Directed by Alejandro Jodorowsky.

Review: 

"Was born in Bolivia, of Russian parents, lived in Chile, worked in Paris, was the partner of Marcel Marceau, founded the 'Panic' movement with Fernando Arrabal, directed 100 plays in Mexico, drew a comic strip, made 'El Topo,' and now lives in the United States -- having not been accepted anywhere, because in Bolivia I was a Russian, in Chile I was a Jew, in Paris I was a Chilean, in Mexico I was French, and now, in America, I am a Mexican."

 

One does not draw a straight line when it comes to looking at directors from all across the world, because one does not just find a director and their perspective. Alejandro Jodorowsky was born in Chile in 1929 to Ukranian Jewish immigrants. He studied at the University of Chile for a time before dropping out; he soon dabbled in writing plays and soon founded an experimental theatre group. In 1953, he moved to Paris, France, where he would do various things, such as working with Marcel Marceau and his first film was a collaboration with Saul Gilbert and Ruth Michelly in a 1957 short called The Severed Heads [La Cravate]. He would soon add Mexico to his travels, where he wrote and drew a comic strip for several years. Fando y Lis [Fando and Lis] (1968) was his first feature film, and it is most memorable for the stir it created on premiere at the Acapulco Film Festival because of its "blasphemous" nature. Leave it to midnight movie advocates to help the film. Ben Barenholtz saw a private screening of the film and liked it enough to showcase it at his Elgin Theater, generally showing it around midnight. The success of these screenings came from notable names like John Lennon and Yoko Ono, who liked it so much that they convinced Allen Klein (former manager of the Beatles) to buy the rights of the film and help distribute it across the country. Klein helped fund Jodorowsky's next venture with The Holy Mountain (1973), but it was not as successful; later, when Klein wanted a more commercial venture for the director to adapt, Jodorowsky suggested doing Dune and the resulting disagreement led to Klein withholding El Topo [The Mole] from circulation for decades. At any rate, Jodorowsky has worked in a variety of roles for several decades: film director (eight features and a documentary), writer (comics, poetry), "psychomagic" therapist...you get the idea.

Besides the fact that Jodorowsky is the main star, his young son Brontis (age seven) is featured alongside dwarf and mutilated actors. The actors perform as one might see from an arthouse movie in curiosity - i.e. it may be amateur, but it is better than if it was pros trying to be clever (besides, when it comes to actor-directors, Jodorowsky does fine). Anyway, the thing about surreal movies, particularly ones that can fall into the realm of the "spaghetti Western" with its raw energy that is quite fluid with all the symbolism and commentary presented in 125 minutes. It is the kind of movie that one just has to experience for themselves without trying to go all-in on interpretation, since it is the wonder that matters more, where making sense is an illusion. It is a hypnotic experience, seemingly ripe for the arthouse crowd in all of the best and worst ways (in other words, one will really, really like what it does.... or really not dig it). It can be described as a" redemption tale", in that one is sort of watching a man confront "spiritual enlightenment" through four masters of the gun that deal with various philosophies....and then he dies and is reborn in a cave with underground dwellers that ends with folks walking off on a horse. Well, there is plenty to talk about in between those moments, but it is probably best to not think too hard about it. This is the kind of movie where a cult does a round of Russian roulette as a form of "miracle" that sees adults and a kid partake in it. I think most of the film works in a presentation of life and death, where looking for answers will only result in more questions, much in the same way that looking for enlightenment will only result in a continued search. By the time everything ends, one can only hope they have found what they were looking for (see, am I talking about the movie...or life? Enjoy guessing!). As a whole, if you are looking for an acid Western to enjoy late at night to perhaps examine piece by piece for its display of imagery and exploitative energy, this is likely the one you are waiting for.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Well, it is finally over for January. I hope looking at thirteen new directors was as interesting for you as it was for me. It might become something worth doing at least once every year, so any suggestion is helpful. See you later...

Myra Breckinridge.

Review #1762: Myra Breckinridge.

Cast:

Raquel Welch (Myra Breckinridge), Rex Reed (Myron Breckinridge), John Huston (Buck Loner), Mae West (Leticia Van Allen), Farrah Fawcett (Mary Ann Pringle), Roger C. Carmel (Dr. Randolph Spencer Montag), Roger Herren (Rusty Godowski), George Furth (Charlie Flager, Jr), Calvin Lockhart (Irving Amadeus), Jim Backus (Doctor), John Carradine (Surgeon), and Andy Devine (Coyote Bill) Directed by Michael Sarne.

Review: 

“When you’re young, you do things sometimes that are impossible because they are impossible. There is a delight in attempting the extraordinary, the immensely difficult merely because it is so. Myra Breckinridge for me became more and more this kind of challenge, the chance to say what I believed was ultimately anarchic and satirical.” - Michael Sarne

“There was this strange bouquet of personalities that were attached to this film, and each one of them was bigger than life in their own sphere. And you thought, Maybe this is the best idea that ever happened, and maybe it’s the worst.” - Raquel Welch

In 1968, Gore Vidal wrote and published a novel in Myra Breckinridge. I have not read the book, but it has been called one of his most famous works, one that challenged the sexual norms of American life in culture and society while also dabbling in writing for film and television from time to time, which included un-credited work on Ben-Hur (1959); incidentally, Vidal was loosely inspired by the exploits of John “Bunny” Breckinridge, a wealthy drag queen that you would recognize from his performance in Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959). Two years later, an adaptation of the novel was done by 20th Century Fox to the derision of Vidal and numerous critics, for which a half century has not quite seen a rehabilitation of what has been considered a turkey of its time. Keep in mind, Hollywood now had a rating system rather than a Production Code, and it followed a decade that had seen films like Easy Rider (1969) and Midnight Cowboy (1969)...along with stuff such as Skidoo (1968). In other words, producers wanted to get with the "hip" crowd, but without getting too much into it. It was one of two X-rated films (well, at the time it was rated X, although now it is R) to be released by Fox alongside Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, which had unfavorable reviews as well, but it managed to be both a box office hit and find its own cult following (coincidentally, that movie also featured a film critic in its production). With this film, not only was the feature disowned by Vidal as a "joke" (albeit one he reportedly never saw), it effectively destroyed the career of the man who directed it as well in Michael Sarne (who occasionally dabbles in acting and painting). Vidal had the first crack at a script (of course Bud Yorkin was the first director in mind for the film), but it did not go well, because Fox (specifically producers David Brown and Richard Zanuck) apparently thought it needed to be as crazy and zany as one would think the ideas presented in the novel evoked. Sarne, who actually had a novelty hit as a singer in the 1960s, had exactly one other major studio film credit: Joanna (1968), which while not a hit at the time was at least given decent reviews. David Giler was brought in to try and deliver a script that would have apparently been a bit more straight-forward (while suggesting George Cukor to take over as director, which Sarne actually endorsed). Each would end up with a writing credit. If there ever was a more bewildering selection of cast mates for any particular movie, I'm sure this one would be one to discuss near the top. On one side, you have a star in Welch who wanted to try and escape the sex symbol status and try to aim for further legitimacy. On the other side introduces a(alleged) film critic with no prior acting experience in a key role. On another side, you have a famous director acting while the director behind the lines tells folks how much he hated his works (because he wanted Mickey Rooney, I kid you not). And, of course, Mae West, making a comeback movie while in the throes of feuding with Welch. Oh, and the debuts of Farrah Fawcett and Tom Selleck. If you think about it, any director that calls one of its stars an "old raccoon" (well, in retrospect, he stated she had a "marvelously artificial way of acting"), another a "old hack", and then spends valuable production time shooting food and "thinking"...probably got exactly what they deserved.  

What do you expect from a movie that has lines such as “the destruction of the last vestigial traces of traditional manhood”? Or how about "Myra Breckinridge is a dish, and don't you ever forget it, you motherfuckers - as the children say nowadays."?  My favorite was probably the one where she states as a Golden Age film nut that there wasn't an unimportant film made in Hollywood between 1935 and 1945 (????) Well, for one, you could expect a memorable experience, this much is true. Beyond the flurry of stock footage and name actors is a movie that drives exactly one thought through one's head: it is the equivalent of seeing someone trying to sing and walk while blindfolded...in a garden full of rakes (and judging by how miserable some of the folks were on the film, I would imagine that they would likely rather go through the rake rather than make the movie again if asked). In theory, this is an interesting cast to feature in a film, even with West in a pseudo-comeback move (Carradine, however, may end up being the most fitting person to have a one-note showing in an one-note movie). It starts with a bizarre dance sequence between two folks who can't quite match in rhythm (Reed and Welch) and never recovers from there. Oh, but don't even get started on the editing choices that come through a movie that acts like sitting still is a sin against nature. Sure, the biggest critique of the film at the time owed to how it managed to offend both folks that were already critical of the book (i.e. conservative audiences) AND folks that were curious to see a misguided attempt at making a studio movie of something that begs for an arthouse experience (or perhaps a French director, if we want to go further into esoteric mockery). The decision to use old film clips throughout the movie does not help matters either, since nothing of merit actually seems to be said with the clips, since this isn't exactly a worthwhile satire; sure, you can show a bunch of Laurel & Hardy clips all you want, but that isn't going to prove anything. Did I mention the twist ending? If this was the part that really sold the studio, they probably should have doubled the amount of alcohol they were drinking.  

If you can believe it, Welch actually wanted to play both Myra and Myron. I can believe that she really wanted to do a movie that would give her some sort of argument for being an actress beyond what you saw (and didn't hear). In a sea of bad decisions, she manages to do the best in terms of performance, probably because she gives it a great go for this artificial role. She can laugh at the movie now, and I can appreciate her attempts at comedy (or whatever is supposed to be present here) far more than anyone else here. Well, I would make a cutting remark about Rex Reed and his attempts at acting in a debut, but having to say "where are my tits?" is humiliating enough. Besides, he seethed at making the film and later talked plenty when it came time to write of the film and its troubled production (for which there was plenty of rope to hang).  Technically, Sarne has been quoted as saying he was "threatened" by Huston's presence, because, well, one would likely be quite speechless at having to direct a man would directed great movies and also acted from time to time in good ones (Sarne merely thought he couldn't act). Huston seems to doze his role with mild abandon, as if he knows that nothing he does here could possibly be the high or low point for an embarrassment like this, so being stuck in neutral is fair. Mae West had not appeared in a film since The Heat's On (1946). Of course, she had made a name for herself in the early sound-era with her raunchy presence...and she agreed to do this film provided she could write her own material. This somehow involves her having multiple music numbers. One could make a note about the dubiousness of West acting as if she is still 26, but stating that her performance seems like it is pulled out of a different movie is enough (that, and anybody who has a problem with Welch earns negative points); one could only wonder how making a flop like this did not stop her from trying to do another comeback a few years later with Sextette (1977) . It is the only film credit for Roger Herren, who either couldn't get film credits after this film or simply fell off the Earth. The infamous pegging scene probably didn't help. Of course, since it features stock footage being spliced in, it also manages to do exactly nothing with how confused it is. The supporting cast looks puzzled as to just what kind of movie they are in (yes, even Carmel), and yet the movie is always quite watchable in its dazzling failure of 94 minutes because it has dazzling style in clothing choices and in its shots that make the stuff shown on screen all the more baffling. 

Well, you have read a thousand words of talking about a turkey. Would I recommend trying to find this film? If you are a curious filmgoer who likes to watch dazzling bad taste...if you are a curious filmgoer who wants to see just how bad a movie can mangle attempts at satire or attempts at something involving gender...if you are a curious filmgoer who wants to see Raquel Welch in a role that shines above the cast in the most ironic of ways...if you can stomach all that, this is the movie for you. It is the mother of all ill-conceived ideas, one too curious to be thought of as the worst of anything but deserving of a great laugh at the expense of both filmmaker and studio.

Overall, I give it 4 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Inchon.

Cotton Comes to Harlem.

Review #1635: Cotton Comes to Harlem.

Cast: 

Godfrey Cambridge (Gravedigger Jones), Raymond St. Jacques (Coffin Ed Johnson), Calvin Lockhart (Deke O'Malley), Judy Pace (Iris Brown), Redd Foxx (Uncle Budd / Booker Washington Sims), Emily Yancy (Mabel), John Anderson (Bryce), Lou Jacobi (Goodman), Eugene Roche (Anderson), J.D. Cannon (Calhoun), Mabel Robinson (Billie), Dick Sabol (Jarema), and Cleavon Little (Lo Boy) Directed by Ossie Davis.

Review: 

“...Harlem was home; was where we belonged; where we knew and were known in return; where we felt most alive; where, if need be, somebody had to take us in. Harlem defined us, claiming our consciousness and, I suspect, our unconsciousness.”

Actors becoming directors is not a surprising thing to see, because it has occurred for several decades, so one shouldn't be surprised to find that this was the directorial debut for Ossie Davis. The Georgia native initially studied at Howard University (after receiving a scholarship from the National Youth Administration) in philosophy. However, when asked by Dr. Alain LeRoy Locke (the head of the department) what his ambitions were, Davis had stated he wanted to be a playwright. Spurred by suggestions to check in with the Rose McClendon Players in Harlem to check what it means to be a writer, Davis left the university to go to Harlem, for which he joined the company in 1939 (seven years later, he would debut on Broadway). Aside from his acting interests, he also served in the United States Army for the Medical Corps and afterwards attended Columbia University School of General Studies from 1947 to 1948. Davis would start appearing in film in 1950 and television in 1955, eventually getting a few prominent roles (such as his first starring role with The Emperor Jones (1955, TV), Gone Are the Days! (1963, film), which also featured Cambridge, or The Hill (1965)) while being well known for his participation in civil rights activism (alongside his wife and actress Ruby Dee). This was the first of five theatrical films that Davis would direct in his life, and he was brought in by Samuel Goldwyn, Jr initially to star before being impressed by Davis' work in rewriting the script to have him direct instead. When it comes to the 1970s, blaxploitation was one of the dominant genres to come forward in making movies. It might be hard to describe what is the first one of its genre, but there were certainly example-setters in films that raised attention and eyebrows that came around at the start of the decade, whether involving Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song (1971), or Shaft (1971). Of course one that shouldn't be forgotten is a film released a year before either film, one that is adapted from the 1965 novel of the same name that had been written by Chester Himes. The novel was part of Himes' series of mystery novels known as the Harlem Detective series, which had nine published works from A Rage in Harlem (1957) up to the last one in Blind Man With a Pistol (1969), with one unpublished work eventually being released after Himes' death. Eight of the nine works involved the characters of Gravedigger and Coffin Ed, obviously inspired by the exploits of pulp writers like Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler. There have been two subsequent films since this one that were based on the two characters with Come Back, Charleston Blue (1971, starring Cambridge and St. Jacques but with no Davis) and A Rage in Harlem (1991).

What's not to like about a movie that wants to balance high action with cheeky humor? The film was written by Davis and Arnold Perl, who incidentally wrote for a variety of cop dramas (alongside directing the documentary Malcolm X (1972) before his death). They may be rough-and-tumble cops, but they sure don't break their promises to make sure to serve the community, especially when they are being swindled. I sure enjoyed what I saw, and it sure is easy to see why it proved to be on the earliest examples of raucous action entertainment, nothing that ends up great or even really good, but average is pretty good. This might be represented by a brief fight in the opening eight minutes, in which Cambridge and St. Jaques briefly deal in a scuffle with five folks that leads to one of the group getting tossed in the air to the stares of the others as he falls right back down. Not to be let down in further play in action is a roaring heist/duel between cops and thieves for money. Somehow, in the midst of the chase, the money was put into a bale of cotton and fell out of the truck, which naturally means the film is a pursuit of the cotton and the cons played to deal with said money. A variety of things occur through the film, such as a defrocked conman, blackmail, and plenty of gunfire and smart remarks to go around in a film shot in the summer of 1969 right in the heart of Harlem (with community support from The Black Citizens Patrol). Truly, one could see plenty of self-determination when it comes to slam-bang fun for a mostly interesting 97 minute tale. It might not rank up as a great action film or even as iconic as Shaft proved to be a year later, but it sure is a useful film that remains a curiosity after five decades, one that gets by with pride for its setting without too many details to bog things down. We have quite a duo here in Cambridge (who initially wanted to study medicine at Hofstra College before turning to acting) and St. Jaques (a Yale graduate in drama), each of whom did a variety of odd jobs alongside making it in acting through Off-Broadway roles; incidentally, Cambridge would also star in Watermelon Man (1970), which was also one of the first studio films directed by an African American (in this case Melvin Van Pebbles). At any rate, they make for a fine duo together, trading a few snappy lines that make for some chuckles while keeping the peace of mind with a casual cop plot. Lockhart makes for a quality adversary in terms of flim-flam confidence man, which goes over quite well in balancing humor with tension. Others follow along just fine in delivering a few plot details or curious stares, most notably with Foxx (known for his raunchy nightclub acts before sitcom stardom came in 1972), who proves for a few chummy laughs (particularly with a fitting close scene. Others play amusing fiddles such as Sabol or authority like Roche alright. As a whole, the film works best in its first and last acts, mostly because its process of investigation takes its toll in the editing department - the closing may not involve a big gunfight (that was earlier), but having a showdown in the theater is good enough. Is it a great film? No, and there would be plenty of blaxploitation films to come around, but it certainly has a place worth talking about when it comes to actor-director ventures with a bit of action and humor to go around.

Next Time: Now this one is different for Black History Month from the new voices seen so far, but it fits because of its angle within horror at the height of blaxploitation. That, and the fact it has an interesting history to it - Abby (1974).

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.