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.

Two Gun Man from Harlem.

Review #1796: Two Gun Men From Harlem.

Cast: 

Herb Jeffries (Bob Blake/The Deacon), Margaret Whitten (Sally Thompson), Clarence Brooks (John Barker), Mantan Moreland (Bill Blake), Stymie Beard (Jimmy Thompson), Spencer Williams, Jr. (Butch Carter), Mae Turner (Mrs. Ruth Steel), Jesse Lee Brooks (Sheriff), Rose Lee Lincoln (Dolores), and Tom Southern (John Steel) Written and Directed by Richard C. Kahn.

Review: 

"A good entertainer, a man with a vision and the fortitude to make it a reality, is an inspiration to all children, of any color, and he's a man we all can look up to."

Admittedly, some movies are more obscure than others. Two Gun Man from Harlem isn't exactly the "first" of anything, since the Western was quite prevalent for several decades. But the story of Herb Jeffries is the most curious. He had been born Umberto Alexander Valentino in Detroit, Michigan in 1913 to an Irish mother and a father of mixed origin (later stated by Jeffries as Sicilian); he did not know his father, and he listed Howard Jeffrey (his black stepfather) in census documents as his father, going so far as to take his last name while adopting an African American identity. He had an interest in singing from a young age, even dropping out of high school to earn a living as one. He had a good word put in by Louis Armstrong, who inspired him to move to Chicago. The reason he is known as Herb Jeffries springs to a recording he made in 1940 with Duke Ellington, as the hit record credits mistakenly called him by that name (leading him to him re-naming himself to fit the typo). He would have a lengthy career in jazz to go with a varied career in film and television. There were a few inspirations listed for why he wanted to make an all-black Western, either ranging from his appreciation of the silent Western films in his heyday, wanting to see black youths get their own cowboy icon...or seeing The Terror of Tiny Town (produced by Jed Buell that had starred little people). The latter inspiration is probably the most accurate, since Buell funded and co-directed the first Jeffries vehicle Harlem on the Prairie (1937). He would do four more afterwards: Two Gun Man from Harlem (1938), Rhythm Rodeo (1938), The Bronze Buckaroo (1939) and Harlem Rides the Range (1939). Referred to as both "The Bronze Cowboy" and the "Bronze Buckaroo", he also once described himself as a "chameleon", and he would do eighteen roles in film/television before his death in 2014 at the age of 100. He may not have been the Western icon of singing like Gene Autry for example, but Jeffries at least deserves a mention of curiosity in the Western lexicon, and his story seems quite suitable to mention for this particular month.

Keep in mind, Harlem on the Prairie was a fair hit, and time is surely not one thing to waste. Richard C. Kahn wanted to do features with Jeffries, and three of the four films he made in the late 1930s was under the character of "Bob Blake", with Kahn being responsible for all of the "Blake" films, which were done at Murray's Dude Ranch in Apple Valley, California that received distribution by Sack Amusement Enterprises (coincidentally, Sack was also behind distribution of a number of Oscar Micheaux features). Kahn would also do the first all-black science fiction horror film with Son of Ingagi (1940). So yes, the singing cowboy is a curious part of the Western. Jeffries sings "I’m a Happy Cowboy" accompanied by The Cats and the Fiddle while The Four Tones also appears for a song. This film is a minor entry in that genre, since the singing part is in the beginning before the real plot steps in: a cowboy assumes the identity of a preacher/gangster lookalike trying to infiltrate a gang that framed him for murder. As a B-movie, it is quite average, but at least one can see that there is an hour worth spending here when it comes to light entertainment. Jeffries might be the best part of the film, in that he makes the material at least seem better than "surface level", keeping the proceedings going with a fair amount of charisma that is required in a film that could burst with how ridiculous the proceedings get (cowboys turning into gangsters that happen to look like each other). Incidentally, this is one of the first film roles for Mantan Moreland, who had spent a number of years in vaudeville and nightclubs before he became a film actor in the late 1930s (his particular comic style would be scrutinized in the 1950s, but he did maintain work until his death in 1973). His comic relief does fine here, in that he gives a bit of levity to an otherwise staid movie (the same is true for Beard, but adults are usually funnier than kids anyway). As a whole, while the production values are mild at best, it proves serviceable for anyone who is curious about low budget quickies made in a time long ago that does exactly what you think it will do without question.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Home of the Brave (1949)

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