Cleansing the doors of cinematic perception... for a better now

Monday, December 21, 2020

The Swirling Mists of Chu Yuan: 70s Shaw Brothers Wuxia on Prime: SENTIMENTAL SWORDSMAN (Trilogy) HEAVEN SWORD AND DRAGON SABRE (1&2)



There are seemingly hundreds of old Shaw Brothers kung fu and wuxia films on Prime, enough in fact you can find a whole sub-school of them that fit your exact likes for your own massive bender. Me, I avoid the "Shaolin" ones, full of sweaty young bald dudes smacking each other and going through their callow revenge/shame-training montages in bright exteriors, with nary a female marital artist in sight. These are usually dubbed, often badly, with the same nasally Brit doing half the characters. I prefer the more esoteric "swordplay thriller" wuxia, from Shaw Brothers, in Cantonese with gorgeously-lit nights rich with elaborate decor, expansive sets, swirling mists, and strong female characters as deadly as their male counterparts, or more so. The best and weirdest are ussually directed by Chu Yuan (aka Yuen Chor) you know it's one of his when an old woman might triumph in a fight to the death with three experienced male martial arts heroes, as in the climax of The Proud Twins). The Chu Yuan output can be uneven, but generally come stocked with dazzling swordplay, wire-aided spins, jumps and kicks, recurring characters, period fantasy garb where everyone is dressed like gossamer princesses and plots that avoid corrupt governments and peasant exploitation in favor of cool supernaturally-tinged mysteries, where all the food is poisoned by smiling princesses and "Devil Grandma" and everyone is challenging each other to duels over magical weapons and hidden kung fu manuals as the plum blossoms shed their snowy petals in a slow, regular rain against the gorgeous soundstage night sky. Heroes wander from one beautiful background to another as they seek to level up against the one or two ranked swordsmen left to challenge their skills. There's seldom any vengeance to seek beyond some ancient grudge of the hero's teacher or parents passed on to the next generation. The battles tend towards almost Leone-level cool (Leone is clearly a big influence on Yuan, to the point that in many films hero Ti Lung walks around in a Clint Eastwood pancho) and Hawks-level gallant, wry professionalism between foes. Rather than duplicating some past reality, Yuan's wuxias snake through a land of mysticism, strange invincible light-shooting weapons, with colored Bava-style gel lights running through vast impeccably-lit soundstages that seem to stretch out to the infinite and--during magic hour shots created by a blazing visible circle of orange studio light--create a rarefied neither/or space that, to me, evokes the essence of my favorite dreams.

Also, they've probably never looked better than they do now, via Prime's seemingly endless collection of HD prints coming in on the Celestial Pictures distribution label. Since Shaw studios cranked out so many of these, they wisely kept all their sets seemingly mostly standing, connected to each other so they often seem to occur in the same netherworld of ornate plum blossom-filled gardens, temple ruins, secret lairs all aglow in foggy green and purple gel spot lighting, waterfalls, cliff face alcoves, little green water pools in the rock, meditation chambers, secret caves, ancient ruins, bamboo forests, indoor/outdoor restaurants, brothels, gambling dens, palace reception halls, booby trap-filled hallways, clan meeting halls, thief-filled roadside inns, and mystical fox ghost dens. While the more fight scene-centric Shaolin films seem to forego beauty in the name of athleticism, the Chu Yuan swordsman thrillers all keep the focus on the beauty, the strange characters, droll wit, and elaborate charade-style plots where one mystery reveal tops another, and every setting has its own colorfully-named gang of killers waiting in ambush. Swordsmen heroes uncover elaborate assassination plots, protect invincible clan weapons, search for lost siblings, discover long-missing kung fu manuals (and attain the mystical powers therein overnight), and above all, seek vengeance the one opponent who can finally give them a real challenge to their acquired skills. Some of these champions and villains have chi of such power the practitioner glows red and shoot rays of light out of their palms. They can all jump straight up two or more stories, do endless midair flips and super high kicks (via unseen wires) and all regularly take mid-fight breaks for bits of conversation confessing elaborate crimes, making grand threats, and/or professing innocence and being set up before resuming rounds of high-wire swordplay and kung fu combat.



Here are some of my favorites (all on Prime), and of course, check out my round-up of more fantastical supernatural based wuxias from my last big wuxia bender: Wild Wild Wuxia!

 THE SENTIMENTAL SWORDSMAN 
(1977) Dir. Chu Yuan (aka Yuen Chor)
***
Sentiment is not always a plus in the martial arts world, or so the bad guy--the evil Plum Blossom Bandit--says to the venerable ace swordsman hero Chi Lu-hsiang (the venerable Ti Lung) after praying on his sense of honor and loyalty. Now in self-imposed exile from his wealth and lady love, the venerable Chi Lu just coasts around for ten years, knocking back jugs wine, pontificating with Taoist realizations in that unique 'talking to the air' Ti Lung way, and slowly getting a Doc Holiday style consumptive cough. Since he's ranked the #3 best martial artist in the world he has to duel constantly; he prefers to gaze wistfully at the plum blossoms, or watch the world go in fitful fights and boasts behind his back at the bar. He drinks because his one true love wishes she was with him instead of the husband she has, the friend Chi Liu gave his everything to out of gratitude ten years ago. Or is that --like many alcoholics (myself included)-- he'd rather drink to to numb the pain of losing his only love than get the love back, even if she's right there, pining for him in lonely solitude. If that sounds like Geoffrey Firmin to you, then, cheers, old man! It maybe sounds like me, too. Or any drunk.

Cool characters include Lin Xanier, the whore of martial arts world,  offering to marry the man who finds and kills the Plum Blossom Bandit. She's contrasted w the modest beauty of the sad, sober creature Lin Hsin-ehr (Li Cheng) pointlessly sweeping up this empty courtyard, for no conceivable reason, waiting for Chi Liu to return to his home, the beautiful estate he gave up out of his woefully misguided sentiment.  



The ironies compound: despite the title, Chi Lu doesn't even carry a sword, preferring to parry with his fan. He bats his opponents around, blocks strokes with his fan (folded), and when things get tiring, just whips it open, wizzing some of the darts out of the folds, killing his foe instantly via at least one to the neck, the opened fan bearing the words: "Little Li's Darts That Never Miss." Who would want to duel with a guy who does that? Isn't that cheating? Either way, he's doing a lot of killing with those darts --a bunch of martial arts social climbers have been duped into thinking he's the Plum Blossom Bandit (who throws poison plum blossom darts and dresses like a pink ninja). Luckily a young bumpkin wanderer-- the irrepressible Ah Fei (Derek Yee)-- shows to cover Chi Lu's back. Other bad guys include a fake plum blossom bandit, a despicable old member of the 'Seven Incredible Men' who poisons Li's wine, and a doctor who notes that "Nothing is better than drinking to death" and then cures Master Li with another glass of wine! You were poisoned by wine and the cure is more wine! "Why would trivial matters such as life and death get in the way of drinking?" Lu gets it; he keeps drinking though his consumptive coughing (or is it an ulcer?). Whatever the reason, he doesn't let it stop him. Go for it, bro!

Under Chu Yuan's direction, the rich atmosphere and expansive shadowy, mist and water-enshrouded indoor/outdoor sets keep the eye continually seduced, like cold wine down a parched throat after walking out of the hot sun into a chilly lounge, with just the right amount of wit, mystery, exotic atmosphere, emotional sweep, and Sergio Leone-style cool dude posturing to keep one's attention.

Cons: There are two too many draggy moments between Li and his "past in the past" philosophy as he refuses to even talk about how why he gave away his wealth, woman and house ten years ago. Another rarity: lots of exterior shots -- a relative rarity in the Yuanverse-- as they walk to Wudang Mountain to see if Li is the Plum Blossom Bandit. We get lots of long shots of these traveling heroes in dwindling numbers walking all the way to Wudang, and not eating for many days  (they keep running into the Five Poisons Kid, who manages to poison everything in advance of their arrival). Fights are all on the soundstage but occasionally cut to outside (and there's a comparative lack of mist and moody atmosphere compared to the other two films in the trilogy, though still plenty compared to any non-Yuan).


THE RETURN OF THE SENTIMENTAL SWORDSMAN
(1981) Dir. Chu Yuan (aka Yuen Chor)
***1/2

"There is no truth in the marital arts world - only dead people, gold, and fame"

Correctly considered one of the few sequels better than the first. Laden with swirling mists and plum blossom evenings ("they've bloomed too soon," notes Ah Fei "and will die sooner.") it has an almost mystical reverence for alcohol coupled to savvy awareness of the process of alcohol addiction (and evocations of Rio Bravo and My Darling Clementine). Rather than any Plum Blossom bandit (the masked pink ninja villain of the first film) it's the real plum blossoms that count here, seen at night, under softly falling snow, amidst tiny waterfalls and glowing lanterns, with mist rolling over the ground. The beautiful plum blossom trees of his estate being in bloom in in fact what lures ever-drinking and coughing titular swordsman Chi Lu (Ti Lung again) back home, where his lady love still hopes he'll come back to live finally. But Chi Lu is also looking for trusty Ah Fei, who's been missing from the martial arts world for awhile. Where did he go? He's cohabitating with that slutty martial art groupie Lin Xanier (Linda Chu) and has become a tranquil nonviolent early-to-bed health nut, spending his days counting the plum blossom blooms, blinded by love and tranquilized by the drugs she spikes his tea with at night so he falls asleep way early and she can sneak down to the whorehouse and whoop it up with the head of the Money Clan! Once he finds out, heartbroken Ah Fei plunges into alcohol addiction and winds up imprisoned in the Money Clan's brothel, groveling around on the carpet for a drink as the prostitute's laugh and pour wine in his face. We're reminded of the opening of Rio Bravo, especially at the climax when Tung Li's lady love brings Ah Fei his old clothes and sword after he's finally sobered enough to join his old friend in a duel at Summit Mountain. The duel is set at dawn, and the Money Clan leader's golden robe looks great in that artificial early light as the red sun pierces through the mists and trees, the sky gradually getting brighter as the duel wages on, 


While the echoes of Rio Bravo are clear, there is also evidence of Chu's familiarity with the Sergio Leone westerns: various Morricone-esque electric guitar and weird rhythmic strains erupt on the during big duel squaring-off staring contests. There's also a nod to the numbering system with each martial artist ranked fourth or fifth and all trying to climb the top and go up against #1, or at least the next person up, evoking the yakuza films of Seijin Suzuki. What a world! As with the first Sentimental film, there might be one too many frustrating melancholy exchanges between Chi Liu and his glum platonic love, but the scenery is gorgeous and Yuan knows how to parlay the need for fighting and position jostling amongst martial artists into an endlessly fascinating series of sword battles --Leone-like exchanges of midnight cool, honor and last words amidst the blossoms. Fights on a silent flowing stream, each fight better than the last. More slow motion than one might expect for a Shaw Brothers film. But hey.



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PERILS OF THE SENTIMENTAL SWORDSMAN
(1982) Dir. Chu Yuan (Yuen Chor)
****

Perils of the Sentimental Swordsman skips the mopey romantic sudsy drama of the previous two films and works as a stand-alone adventure, with Ti Lung's consumptive wanderer Chi-Liu pretending to turn outlaw in order to infiltrate the 'Ghostly Village,' an apparently transdimensional extradition-free settlement accessible only via a disappearing cloud bridge! It's one of the coolest of all Chu Yuan's Really Cool Places, evoking the fox ghost realm in Full Moon Scmitar (1979) coupled to Bat Island (seeable in another Chi-Liu Hisiang stand-alone adventure, Legend of the Bat (1978- not on Prime but there's a non-HD DVD). The first thing the Charon-like guide shows you after you arrive is the liquor store ("Hell's Cellar --do you need to buy any wine?") so you know I love this film. His fame ensuring he gets handed a gorgeous little pad, with a servant ("this is a blanket"), Chi-Liu has to find his contact amidst the new neighbors: a mincing gay stereotype, a foxy siren known as "The General," and a wild gambling lunatic played by the irrepressible Lo Lieh. Turns out the masked 'phantom' who runs the place is organizing a revolution out in the real world, so they can all come back to 'Earth' without fear of incarceration. 


The thing is, who is a spy for the current throne and who isn't? People try and confess being a spy to out each other, so who can you trust? Meanwhile some ghosts fly around in an immaculately green-lit mist-shrouded haunted ruin atop a nearby hill.  Spending a night up there on a bet, Lo Leih does the Costello monster comedy bit, quaking with fear while being gaslit by the ghost stealing his food one bite at a time, etc. with Chi-Liu as the Abbott. Great stuff. The sword fights are okay but it's really the spooky elaborate beauty of the sets and eccentric characters I vibe with; the always dark or at dusk/dawn inner/outer mist-enshrouded otherworld of the Ghostly Village and the colorful never-ending parade of villains, like scruffy elderly rogue named Dugu Fei, aka "the Handsome Loner," known also is "the one who disdains his kinfolks." And this time there are no exterior shots or even daytime shots. Everything occurs from dusk to dawn, aka the time of ghosts, eddying through the gorgeous swirling mist like whirling vape-nados. 

-----------------

HEAVEN SWORD AND DRAGON SABRE
HEAVEN SWORD AND DRAGON SABRE 2
(Dir. Chor Yuen AKA Yuan Chi)
*** 

Good luck keeping up with the byzantine plot of this strange two-part affair, especially since it kind of starts in the middle of some probably massive novel by Louis Cha (the Prime blurb lets us know it's also a popular TV serial). If you read the whole thing in advance I presume you wouldn't be scratching your head as we whizz past one crazy fight scene after another. If not may help to have seen The Battle Wizard first, as it borrows a lot of the same elements, like the hero finding a special oasis halfway down a cliff where the hero mends his wounds and finds ancient power in eating or drinking the blood of glowing toads, red frogs or giant pythons, and Hsueh-Erh Wen as a snake-handling venom-loving girl, and kung fu manuals that impart instant super power. This time we follow a dashing young hero (Tung Shing-Yee) this time seeking to find out who's behind his foster father going crazy after an evil monk killed his family and sewn seeds of dissent against the Ming clan with all the other kung fu schools.  The two titular magic blades are--when brought together--possessed of some dynamic magic but really don't figure that prominently. Mostly there's poison, antidotes, hair-raising rescues, and strange deals, interrupted weddings and people once thought friends becoming bitter enemies and vice versa. 

As with most of these Celestial Shaw Brothers films, one of the unique aspects not often found in western action genre is the prevalence of female led-fighting clans like the Er Mei (the female counterpart to the Shaolin Temple). At Er Mei they keep their women sharp by forbidding all sexual contact with men, and they take an especially dim view of pregnancy. Here the Er Mei clan is led by a rigid white haired old super Buddhist nun with super deadly kung fu schools, who kills the girls who transgress, and eventually passes the reins to the secret love of the leader of the Ming clan, which makes his rival in the other clan super jealous, and around and around. 

The first film flows much better as the focus stays on young Tung-Shin Yee, curing himself from a Buddha's palm wound inflicted on him while a child, growing up under the protection of a renowned pharmacist who tries every cure in the book to keep him alive. All this will lead him to the promised land, eating the red frogs, finding the secret manuals, saving and taking over the Ming clan and getting to the bottom of all the grudges that have led to the Ming Clan being unfairly blamed for all sorts of calamitous behavior. The result, everyone watches various duels at the Gang Ming Summit showing off what they know, and the good don't kill the losers, that's how you know who's good. 


At the end, even the villains may well take note of the power of the Buddha by renouncing their past, shaving their heads and joining the Shaolin monks in humble contemplation of the Amanita Buddha. Glory to Amitabha. I kind of like that kind of ending as it vibes with my own saving through the power of AA. Glory to the higher power as you understand it. 

All is emptiness...



Friday, November 06, 2020

Welcome to the Zugsmithery: SEX KITTENS GO TO COLLEGE (1960)


If you don't think film critics can make mistakes, consider the terrible reviews given the sublime SEX KITTENS GO TO COLLEGE, a C-list 1960 madcap comedy (once likely called SEX POT GOES TO COLLEGE but changed due to pot references) about the effect a super genius doctor of medicine,  psychology, and physics (plus ten other degrees) has on a small town college when she arrives from Vegas to assume the role of dean (hired by "Thinko" the computer/robot who is "never wrong!") Why is she causing such a stir? Just because she happens to arrive in the body of "the Tallahassee Tassle Tosser," Mamie van Doren. Often billed as being to Jayne Mansfield what Jayne Mansfield was to Marilyn Monroe, Mamie underplays with such calm authority that even those who sneer and deride her 'type' would be impressed if they could leave their male sexual panic at the door. Not only can she can carry a film, she can stay cool and grounded as a photographic memory and 13 doctorates-having genius. No doubt she is the right woman to lead this cocakamamie college into the "space age" she 
can give you the page # of any given text. In short, Thinko is not wrong; she's qualified above and beyond the rest of them. The sparks fly because no one can handle the fact of her hotness. This inability is never depicted as anything but 'their' problem, and reflects perhaps the irrational hostility of critics (similar to the unearned scorn heaped on Myra Breckenridge.

And she's not the only assett: a stunning Tuesday Weld is the hitherto raining beauty queen. (she accuses Van Doren of "making every other woman in the world feel flat-chested"). Weld has been trying to get lumpen football star "Woo-Woo" (Norman Grabowski) to try at least for first base rather than just running off in a stuttering virgin panic. Trying to help Weld out, Dr. Mamie gives him some good counsel --just one of the surprising moments van Doren handles with a sensitive aplomb worthy of a real therapist, yet hitting all the right comedic notes with a deadpan feather ("boys with nicknames are usually sensitive"). No wonder he ends up falling for her instead of Weld, but it hardly matters. There's too much else going on as the film slowly builds to one of the stateroom scene-style 'everyone onstage' madhouses. One can't forget (though she doesn't make much of an impression) Maila "Vampira" Nurmi is around as a sexually frustrated lab assistant. And there's so much more. 

Mijanou, in a nice color photo (I couldn't find a good Sex Kittens still

For all Van Doren's range, the secondary romantic lead, Mijanou Bardot (Brigitte's sister!) basically steals the bulk of the sex appeal as a Russ Meyer heroine-style, sexually voracious exchange student out to bed a cross-section of ze American male for her term paper. The forthright way she explores a cross-section of manhood for her term paper is inspiring, the stuff of semi-terrified fantasy. She ends up zeroing in on a "real live Chicago gangster" in the form of Allan Drake as "Legs" --whose squeamish semi-reticence is met with bewildered academic urgency ("Do you want to set science back thirty years!?") He and his pal are there to lean on this guy "Thinko" whose been gambling rather too successfullu Though far from the most interesting of the Mad style cacaphony of crazy characters, Drake's rattled "Legs" becomes more interesting purely through his gradual tolerance of Bardot's unswerving affection, eventually, like some Anna Karina anti-heroine, she joins the bad guys ("This dialogue, pure Roaring 20s, no?!)

"I"One of the most possible people you'll ever meet."
"One of the most possible people you'll ever meet" 

And that's good Legs comes around and conquers his sexual panic. Hey, you'd be surprised how many normally red-blooded American males can't handle a beautiful girl suddenly throwing herself at him like a freight train. A man might fantasize all through his pained adolescence about such moments, but if one actually comes, it's--and Lacanians know this all too well--his reaction isn't aggressive cool, but panicky; he starts to stutter, spills his drink, and before you know it, finds himself running away, covered in sweat, desperate to get home and begin his lifetime of self-reproach over this this chickening out. To go from tortured adolescent longing for this golden chance to tortured adult regret about blowing it is almost a rite of passage; hopefully one can glean the message - you are a complicated person and the unconscious half of yourself is a spiteful anima out to keep you for herself, so she can occasionally creep up from the attic and molest you while you dream. This is the comedic gold mine understood only by a chosen few in the comedy business. College is, in this film, the zone of endless Lacanian objet petit a proximity; campus life is visualized as a zone where fantasy is freely imagined by those who have only been there in passing and thought 'man if I was in college I could score with all these chicks' and suddenly they have to put up or shut up.  The women--namely van Doren, Weld and Bardot--have all the brains and assertive libidos, and the men are reduced to terrified deer in the headlights. Such is the Russ Meyer-esque vein mined by Albert Confessions of an Opium Eater Zugsmith in the long-derided Sex Kittens Go to College. 

L-R: Tuesday, Mijanot, Mamie
I don't have all the answers; I have no idea why this awesome comedy gets such a bad critical rap, unless male critics are too threatened by the idea of a genius bombshell who's not evil, passive, helpless, materialistic, or moronic. As of this writing it has a 2.2 on imdb. and Lenny Maltin gives it a BOMB ("don't say you weren't warned!"); Glenn Erikson says "Compared to Sex Kittens, Otto Preminger's Skiddoo is a profound statement on the human condition." An uncredited imdb writer calls it "one of the most legendarily worst films ever produced." But I say, if you've been to college and like to get wasted and love Russ Meyer, Ed Wood, and Roger Corman, used to read Mad and Cracked then at least consider checking it out. I think a lot of these low budget zany comedies get a bad rap, especially if they don't have big recognizable directors (like Frank Tashlin or George Axelrod) so that critics can guess how they're supposed to respond right away. This isn't a guffaw style comedy, but how often did we laugh reading Mad as kids? 2/3 of the time we didn't even get the jokes. We had no idea what they were talking about running satires of films far too dry and adult for our interest, like The Sandpiper and The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit.  Some comedies don't have to be funny. Ask Albert Zugsmith, the strange figure who could go from producing films like Orson Welles' Touch of Evil, Douglas Sirk's Written on the Wind, to directing unclassifiable strangeness like Confessions of an Opium Eater, The Beat Generation, and Sex Kittens Go to College. He also produced Russ Meyer's Fanny Hill! 

If you don't see that list is all connected, then you need to learn so very much about the spirit of revolutionary cinematic anarchy in the service of sexual stimulation. (Behind me right as I wrote that phrase a Quaker Oats commercial said "Where new normals are created.") That's the beauty of the Zugsmith touch.  Watching Vincent Price sailing madly down the sewer towards Frisco Bay oblivion in Opium Eater for example, leaves us more questions than answers (it a horror film? A white slavery expose? A surreal odyssey worthy of Bunuel? 

It is all that and more; it's the Zugsmithery. 

The simple fact is, there are so many things to zero in on here in the Zugsmithery that if one element annoys you, there are ten more to delight or flabbergast. For me the annoying element is Van Doren's assigned romantic lead, college PR rep Martin Milner (the supposedly hip jazz guitarist who had to have weed planted on him in Sweet Smell of Success). Talking fast in a kind of high-voiced style, sort of imitating Cary Grant at his most flummoxed in Arsenic and Old Lace, Milner tries to steal scenes as if he;s feeling the need to give the film a square white fall guy center, to link the film to every other banal desperately mansplaining-flooded "sex" comedy flatlining on big screens around America at the end of the 1950s. Tather than letting the women rule as they do anyway, Milner lets a kind desperate flop sweat reduce his square lead idiot to tatters. That said, he still comes out a few yards ahead of Eliot Reid's smarmy detective in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes as far as worst male counterpart to a busty comedic titan

There's one other caveat: I also don't like the cop-out ending (SPOILER ALERT!), when Mamie hangs up her shingle and goes back to Vegas to continue her tassle-tossing, so that Milner can romance her without feeling threatened. When she says "for the first time I feel like I'm really using my brain" one wants to track down writer Robert Hill and beat him senseless (I feel the same way at the end of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls when smarmy David Gurian is accepted back into the fold and the lesbians are blamed for their own deaths.)  Ugh! If there's one thing I loathe it's those smug white privilege-touting SWMs (i.e. Smug WASP Morons), often young men with clean cut hair and a pipe and an unearned lordly air, as if they believe the Madison Avenue plastic fantastic wave that tells them they--by virtue of their educated SWM status-- are in charge of any other genders and races they might encounter, determined to solve whatever bothers them until their comfortable patriarchal homogenization reasserts itself. Sure, not all these guys are insufferable; watching them today becomes more insufferable with every passing day of my work's sensitivity training. Ugh! (Of you can't get enough of my ravings on the topic, check out: CinemArchetype 13: The Skeevy Boyfriend. and Vanishing Caloric Density: The Queen of Outer Space.

 Luckily, balancing out Milner's forced hysteria, there's wondrously wry turns by Jackie Coogan as Admiral "Wildcat" McPherson (borrowing W.C. Field's drawl wholesale as the college's financial underwriter) and John Carradine, proving he isn't limited to shady butlers and secondary Draculas as a professor. Turns out Carradine is adept as hell at deadpan comedy as one of Mamie's firm supporters. Unthreatened by her mix of sex appeal and brains he calls her "a positive vision" while helping her into his faculty-packed jalopy (her chimp sidekick sneaks into the rumble seat) for a night of buzzed carousing (or  "simple homespun country fun" as he assures her) at local college tavern, "the Passion Pit." To overcome any further doubts as to her qualifications as either genius or stripper, she hypnotizes the gathered faculty and patrons to join her in a crazy rhumba. Conway Twitty watches, moved, and sings. But that doesn't phase the benevolent and respectful ardor of the older men, who are--essentially--too debauched to be troublesome (the greatest libertines never mash or paw; they lean in only to spook off the riff-raff). 

Small bit parts and great lines float around ("I'm a selectman of the church!" rants the cop who arrests the admiral when his morality is on the ropes); Charlie Chaplin Jr. (as a bewildered fire chief); the imposing and magnificently bullhorn-voiced Babe London, who arrives in town representing "the Paddy Pad Brassier for the larger figures gal"  - At the end she's heading off once more into the great beyond: "You people don't deserve Paddy Pads! I'm taking my brassieres to Europe where they'll be appreciated!")

And over all, it's one of those great fantasies where all the women are stacked and leggy, and the men well-written and acted (Milner aside) nincompoops. With poops like Coogan and Carradine, how bad can things get, no matter how much Milner dashes around like some kind of universal chaperone (telling Jayne "You are a bit much for a growing boy to face at nine-AM in the morning.") or the flash-frozen "Woo Woo" mopes and Moranises? Sure, the ending is total chaos as all the disparate parts come together in a big science lab/classroom climax (with the gangsters and Thinko finally squaring off) but at least half the gags hit home and if you don't really laugh, well, one of the beautiful gals is usually onscreen to rest your eyes on while you wait for the next zany character to come tumbling into the scene. For all its faults, I think I like it better, as a whole, than either Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (which has an icky homophobic/misogynist subtext) or The Girl Can't Help It (which has an icky Tom Ewell smarm). Sure it's not as good as Lord, Love a Duck but what is? Even that's not perfect, though it sure is Milnerless.

 The question is, does Sex Kittens link up with Opium to delineate and auteur style for the Zugsmith? Maybe not, but it does indicate a termite interest in veering from audience expectation and letting the sewer carry us where it may. If Vincent Price were to show up, waving an opium pipe as he sails past, we might well find one. I don't think he is going to make it, but really, it's probably just because he was under AIP contract and in 1960 was making House of Usher.  Hey, maybe I am crazy or just benefitted from a nice buzz and low expectations. I think you can't pin high hopes on it, it's not any better than Invasion of the Star Creatures but if you tolerate that, there's plenty of galakazoom and maybe even some ringy-dink; best of all there's full-bodied and nuanced performances from Bardot (casually carnal), Van Doren (sensitive and balanced - she talks, not shouts, further stranding the sub-par actors--Milner in the ham flats) and Weld (less to do than in Duck but still ravishing with some good rapport with Van Doren--with whom she remained fast friends--and Bardot, who together have a kind of sisterly ruling benevolence, watching over the male college co-eds and faculty the way proud cowboys watch over the herd in Red River. Even with the cop-out coda, this baby isn't Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, this here's the Pussycat! Follow the lead of Prof. John Carradine and Coogan instead of the dopey Milner. A girl with youth, brains, education and hot blondeness is not a threat or an object, but a great drinking partner.   
 



Wednesday, October 28, 2020

Old Dark Capsules X: THE PHANTOM (1931), DRUMS OF JEOPARDY (1930), MURDER BY THE CLOCK (1931), HOUSE OF MYSTERY (1934), THE GHOST WALKS (1934)



Autumn... despite our current plaga, it means all the best things in life (and death) are now arrived.. especially old dark house movies from the 1930s,

These days, I wonder if I might be alone in this last part. Everyone has Halloween, or at least Guy Fawkes' Day, October filmic canon, but modern kids and even their parents have grown up with soooo much in the way of options for viewing. They don't have to love the old dark house movies, the way we Famous Monsters-reading kids did, we who were like shaking junkies waiting for every new TV Guide to come along in the Sunday paper so we could underline anything remotely spooky looking and then try to get the timer to work at the dead of night or even set the alarm and wake up so we could sneak downstairs and tape it, just so we could pause during the commercials, in order to fit more four rather than three movies on the six-hour tape (which were like two pounds each and $12) and also, if needed, manipulate the aerial to get a clearer picture, including standing up and grounding it by holding the antenna in one hand and the wall in the other, all just for something like One Body Too Many or The Ape Man. Why would anyone bother treading through such blurry dross when there's every single old horror movie on streaming all the time? And if we don't get used to the genre and learn to love its creaks and groans, the Cat and the Canary or The Phantom of Crestwood might not be the sort of thing we even know how to appreciate in the coming post-civilization! Won't you help? 

Maybe now, during these strange times, even with Netflix and all that, I may yet recruit fellow travelers in the hoariness stillness.

What is an old dark house movie vs. say, a mystery or a thriller or a straight-up horror movie? Well, just as all of 'modern' country music stems from a handful of songs by Jimmie Rodgers, Patsy Cline, and Hank Williams Sr. (which stem in turn from old string band reels and traditional ballads) so all of the old dark housers are based on a handful of barnstorming mystery plays that used to tour the country in roadshows, The Cat and the Canary (there are at least four film adaptations, including one lost to time "The Cat Creeps"), The Bat (at least two faithful versions and a zillion spinoffs) and The Gorilla. From these three basic plots spins the entire genre (just as the three in turn spring from drawing room mysteries and barnstorming Victorian melodramas). 

What makes an old dark house movie, aside from the old dark house itself? Usually there are a few recurring sinthoms: a threatening note; the reading of a will; a terrified maid; a shifty-eyed butler; a smart aleck reporter or PR agent; a gorilla; one or more secret passages; a masked madman; incompetent cops or asylum guards who might actually be escaped patients; an imperiled heiress; hidden jewels, greedy heirs forgotten in the will unless the current heir dies or is proven insane; a black cat racing up the stairs, the sound of sheet metal thunder / stock footage lightning cutaways; gnarled or furry hands reaching out towards oblivious heroines as they sleep. One or more corpses! Repeat! 

For settings they fall back to an era long before the dawn of suburban tract homes, when extended families all lived together in big cavernous houses that were passed down through generations. Today they are mostly all cut up into co-ops but some still exist. If you've ever stayed overnight in one then you know ho creepy it is just waking up in the dark and trying to find the bathroom at night. You can easily get lost in the dark, and if you hear a strange noise it's almost impossible to search everywhere; families can live comfortably together without ever seeing one another; guests can fill the rooms for long weekends of creeping around long hallways; and if the cops in the foyer hear a scream somewhere above, they may not even be able to find the one who screamed by the time they get up the stairs and down the cavernous hall; (and by the time they search the next floor, they hear a scream or a shot somewhere else, and it all starts over. Once you split up and search different rooms you may never find each other again).

The secret panels and hidden lairs are what I think most grabs me. The idea people could be watching you through the walls, and you'd never know it. Or more cozily, vice versa. If you don't believe they're real I can tell you from experience: nearly every single old mansion has them, especially if they were built before or during Prohibition; but no one thinks to look for them. They'd rather say you're crazy when you say someone peered out from behind the bookcase. I've been in two rich kid houses that had hidden rooms adjacent to their bedrooms, secret spaces so quiet and isolated you could do whatever you wanted out of sight or smell from parents and staff. Never before had I seen total freedom just a hidden door away from mind-numbing conservative patriarchal bourgeois repression (as in the hidden playroom of Holiday).

But then, in general, the old ultimate patriarch, the dying old codger in the wheelchair symbolizes the extent of social isolation, of both sides, the rich patriarch's alienating inflexibility -driving his children against him until he only sees them when he's on death's door, their hands outstretched, or the children themselves, who've shut themselves away in hidden lairs of excess, the wealth affording them the freedom to wind up utterly alone in a room full of mirrors, in each case, their massive house becomes void of all but a few weird servants who become as disturbed and jaded as the owner, sinister and paranoid, taking on the demeanor of the owner. When forced to face mortality via the old will, only then is this hermetically sealed world of long shadows and empty rooms suddenly thrown open to relatives, cops, and cameras. The cops must pick through the list of suspects in search of where the old man might have hidden the loot or who may have killed him. If you've ever gone through the effects of a dead loved one then you know the weird frisson - like investigating your mother's or father's most private life, everything that was hidden from you all your life. Now, nothing personal is off limits. That's why the number one famous last words of our modern age isn't "forgive me, father," but "hide my porn."  

THE PHANTOM
(1931) Written and Directed by Alan James
***1/2 (or * depending on your tastes)

"Say, that guy ain't no regular butler!"

The saddest eyes in show biz - Niles Welch
One of my new favorites in both the so-bad-it's-good and the old dark house genres, the surreal-comic barnstormer THE PHANTOMs (1931) clearly marked a real departure for the the mightily-titled Supreme Pictures. They made a lot of silent era westerns and serials, and a lot of their cowboy stock can be seen here, amazed and uncertain how to act, as if this isn't just the first time they've spoken out loud on film, but the first time they've been indoors for longer than it takes to rob yonder general store. Consider the opening: while the.... Phantom (the name always comes with pregnant pauses) is waiting is on death row, the chair warming up, the warden talks about the case with a reporter up in his office; someone mentions the plane buzzing the yard. Suddenlhy! Outside the window ''the Phantom" breaks jail and jumps from the big house wall onto the top of a passing train and then a biplane roars overhead and throws down a ladder. The.... Phantom reaches up, grabs the ladder and is lifted away into the air and thus to freedom! Since it has almost nothing to do with the rest of the film, and the stock seems significantly more degraded, we can't but presume the scene is lifted from one of Supreme's silent era serials (a not uncommon practice at the time). Especially if we love bad movies, of course we won't complain! We don't complain at the stock footage Ed Wood uses, it's part of the charm. Anyway, it's hard to know for sure if anything connects in... The Phantom...

The insult follows injury as we drift into loving incoherence: Though the Phantom was on all the front pages, a notorious master criminal on death row, once he escapes no one knows what he looks like! It never occurred to his jailers to take a single a mugshot. No one knows who... the Phantom... really is! All they know for sure is that, back at the time of his sentencing, he threatened to get even with the DA (Wilfred Lucas). Enter rock-hard Sgt. Collins (Tom O'Brien) who signs on to protect him and his society reporter daughter Ruth (Allene "Sweetheart of San Antonio" Ray). Her editor--the cool older dude who loves her--is sad-eyed Sam Crandall (Niles Welch -upper left). He's the coolest character in the film, just watching him waft across scenes like he's up to his knees in mud, one wonders many things about this deep-eyed actor. Did he have a death in the family before shooting started? Was he still treating early sound recording like it was 1929, when you had to speak... slowly... and... clearly with many pauses... or is he just too drunk to remember his lines and is being fed them through some whispering off camera prompter? Whatever the reason, he has a distracted, stop-starting melancholy gravitas that perfectly fits being put in the odd position of being asked by Ruth, his one true love, to promote square-jawed cub reporter, Dick (Guinn "Big Boy" Williams) so Dick can be successful enough to marry Ruth! "So... if I give Dick the job," intones Sam, gradually adding it all up for the yokels in the back row, "you and he... will be married?" (she nods, clearly thrilled). 

Just to let you know he's the real hero of the story, Sam puts Dick on the big, career-making story. And guess what that story is... Where and who... is the Phantom?!


it's a mystery this time, pardnuh! 
Poor Sam, he's really better off without her. We never get why this  Britt Reid / Lamont Cranston -style man about town would be into an overdressed, "tipsy, nicer Lina Lamont"-voiced square like Ruth, aside from she's the only girl in the movie (aside from her comic relief scared maid). Ray and Williams clearly played Supreme sweethearts of the rodeo many times before this and they fit together well (he's twice her height, it works if she stays on her horse) when Niles was probably the city slicker land grabber. For all that, Williams's hard edges help give him an inscrutable air, like the director wants us to think he might be... the Phantom... (as far as being a reporter, he doesn't give the impression he knows how to hold a pen). Both these guys do all right but Ruth has more of an adjustment moving off the silent ranch and into the sound boudoir, like she's trying to crawl out from under her blonde wave and stacks of fur wraps; her squeaky voice clashes antithetically with the heavy sense of experience she radiates, like she can't quite pick a voice or persona to bring with her into the age of sound recording and is always wishing she could just ride silently back to the saloon. Too bad she couldn't.  The Phantom was her last film until 1949. 

Supreme made naught but a handful of pictures after The Phantom and as far as I'm concerned it's a shame there's not a lot more like it from the same stock cast, as they are all--like the stars--clearly uncomfortable having to remember lines or speak clearly. Everyone plays these stock old dark house characters-- from the terrified maid to the passive-aggressive butler "James"--like they've never seen a sound movie before, lending the whole thing an endearing air of primitivism. As a result, The Phantom becomes to old dark house movies what Luigi Cozz's Hercules is to peplum or The Shaggs' Philosophy of the World to quirky pop music, in short, a kind of primitivist folk-art approximation that's way better than the more coherent but ordinary entries. This extends to Allan James' direction and the camerawork: the framing of each scene is so inept it skirts back around to brilliant. Characters swingle and dingle in corners of the screen during long static shots. Every element is slightly off, even the silence. 

Even more than most of its early sound contemporaries, 'room tone' is is almost a character in itself. Thick and hissy, it's like we're hearing what air sounds like for the first time; it's so thick we're amazed how easily people can walk through it (though speaking is often slowed, careful, as if they don't... quite.... trust... that words will carry through this thick aether). And the way each character deals with it is unique.

There's something cool about cops trusting the adult judgement of civilians (including giving them guns); I like that nearly everyone is armed, like they'd be in a western, and everyone has no problem barging in places, skulking in and out of passageways and swimming through the thick crackling and hissing air; and it's meant to be a mystery, so you can't tell if Dick is... the Phantom, or Sam Crandall, or is it that short guy who runs around with his face covered in a black slouch hat and a cape pulled under his hawklike nose so he looks just like The Shadow crossed with Chico Marx (Sheldon Lewis). Waving his big oogie-boogie hands at either Ray or the terrified maid, one suspects him of being..... the Phantom.... but is he?


The dialogue is weird, too (including the first time I've heard the use of the word "cool" in a behavioral context in any 30s film, allowing suspicion to flood the motivations of nearly every character. the relationships are very vague. For proof, here's one of the great, surreal exchanges of vague dialogue; this between Hampton the DA, and Niles' enigmatic editor:
Niles: "Well Mr. Hampton, I'm sure you'd like to know what this is all about."
Hampton: "Yes... I would."
Niles: "Well.... I'll be very glad to explain it."
Hampton: "Good... come on and sit down."
Niles; "OK"
(cut - we never hear him explain, etc.)
Beholding the row of failed brain transplants

Then there's the climax at the mysterious private rest home, an amazingly dark hall of odd shadows with a dream-like massive palm frond-bedecked reception/waiting area, a hidden operating room, and secret passages. Ruth pretends to have fainted to warrant their barging in; out of the woodwork (in some cases literally) creeps storky William Jackie. With buggy Bruce Spence reptilian eyes and and the kind of lean tall body where, were he to turn sidewise, he might well disappear, Jackie speaks in either a terrible or genuine Swedish accent with a bunch of fractured possible clues buried in his dialogue. 

Note his surreal exchange with Dick, who insists on staying on script with his answers, regardless of what the crazy Swede might say:

Jackie: "Shhhhh- dis here's a crazy hoose: there's tree tousah why hunda why a men her 
Big Boy: "What... What did you say his last name was?" 

        Jackie: I say Dere's 7,777 seasick men here and dere all crazy, like me." 

        Big Boy: ohh

Jackie: You know my son, he is the daughter of this here stable." (etc.)
The finale gets even 'crazier' once Ruth is spirited away to the secret chamber operating room by the brain transplant enthusiast Dr. Elden, who mulls over the shelf of skulls from his failed attempts with his fey lab partner Alphonse. What's truly crazy is that this guy is running an asylum but, if he's the Phantom, no one ever noticed he was also on death row, especially not his two assistants, the freaky Chico Marx as the Shadow guy (Sheldon Lewis) and naughty Frenchman Alphonse (uncredited). It seem unlikely that they were the ones who busted him out, so the end reveal holds naught together. 

The craziness is whole-hog when, moving shakily down the long 'shock corridor' in the dead of night, trying to find the abducted Ruth by shouting her name as he walks down the hall, Dick is handed a note from one of the doors, reading: "She's in Uncle Tom's cabin." Outside in the garden, the chauffeur is knocked out (by someone else) but wakes up and blames the stork-stepping Jackie and they get in a fight which Jackie presumes is just playful sconce bonking. The end finds the endangered Ruth stalling in the operating chamber while Dick tries to get the secret door combination from Jackie, who would rather tell him the story of "a-Yack and Yill."

The fistfights are all sped up and clearly unchoreographed but it's fun to watch everyone chase each other around sofas and operating tables and all the other nonsense, fake fighting in the way we used to do it in my old super-8mm action films. Still nothing compares to those great, sad cutaways to Niles, whose monotone expression as Sam Crandall never changes, looking stricken with his eyes wide as if he might any minute be revealed as... the Phantom. For some reason he's smart enough to know that the hot tip about the mental asylum is worth investigating... rather than a lure from... the Phantom, and he brings the cops and the DA along for the ride. 

The big reveal is that though old Same seems to know all about what's going on well before we or anyone else does: "Print that "Phantom" story just as I laid it out, credit... Dick Mallory." He's not the Phantom but just a lovestruck hangdog dude who wants the apple of his eye to be happy... even if it is without him. In other words, Dick Mallory didn't write it, Sam wrote it, but Dick gets the credit so he can marry the girl the guy Sam loves... "and take a few weeks vacation to get married" - that's how you tell a mensch, he loves her so he steps aside. Sam, I say to the screen, don't worry. With those sad Irish eyes and that tony power position, you're going to get plenty of dolls on your dance card, with less squeaky-doll voices (but for Asher, alas, nothing more in the way of work after this than a few minor parts, just like Ray... and nearly everyone else).

You might think I've flipped being so into this bad film, and maybe I have. Haven't you?

----
DRUMS OF JEOPARDY
(1930) Dir. George B. Seitz
***

It's never been on TCM... or DVD, or VHS, or TV, but one can find the 1931 Return of Fu Manchu if one looks hard enough (I finally got to see it on Youtube a few months ago but then it was gone again) and one should. Until then, Drums of Jeopardy offers basically the same plot, and Oland seems to have just as much drunken fun there as he does as crafty Fu, in a very similar plot line. In many scenes in both his eyes glisten with the ecstasy of drink. By day he was playing good guy Charlie Chan over at Fox, by night he was slinking out to wreak havoc as Fu Manchu or--in this case, master chemist Boris Karloff. Enraged by his daughter's pregnant suicide (she won't name names, but she's hiding a clue, the famous necklace, the "Drums of Jeopardy," a Petrov family heirloom, no doubt stolen and given to her by the craven father; so he crashes a dinner party and stares down the entirety of Russian aristocracy, demanding the guilty Petrov step forward. He doesn't, but Karloff knows it's one of them, so why not kill them all.... one at a time...one to each brother, and father, in return, as receiving one of the "drums" (supposed to denote immanent death --hence the name). Convenient coincidence? Maybe. But very cool. 

Petrov's scene at the restaurant gets him hauled off to jail but.. in a purloined letter brought to the now Moriarty-like Karlov by his right hand man Mischa Auer, we learn he later escaped jail to become a leader of the Bolshevik secret police. He's now hunting Petroffs all over Europe, with a small but very capable squad of men at his command. Very cool. The letter also says what boat to America the remaining Petroffs are taking to escape, allowing Karlov a chance to prepare a warm reception.  

As with the Oland's Fu Manchu films, his motivation may be grief (unlike the Sax Rohmer Fu), but he's clearly having a blast and we're rooting for him and his Trotsky-like right hand man (Mischa Auer) all the way, and relishing how they manage to have all the luck (like when the comic relief auntie is sent in her nightgown out to the streets to find a doctor and she runs right into Auer). and loathe the bland and bickering Petroffs and their flatline American aides. even though he takes way too long to kill the final one good Petroffs, allowing him chance to escape with the random girl who dared to help him by calling the cops when he showed up shot and disoriented in her apartment after another failed attempt.  The bland good may prevail but whatever, the atmosphere is plenty thick, and there's cool moments like sharing a cigarette with the Nayland Smith equivalent (who trusts it's not poisoned as that would be "too easy") 

Oland can get great mileage out of little lines.

"They sent me for a doctor," Auer tells him in their hideout a block or two away.
"Well" says Karlov, "we must not disappoint them." He turns and looks back, "get my hat and coat and my bag... my black bag. "

The endangered Petroff is surprised to see Karlov leaning down over him when they arrive, the comic relief aunt fretting as she shoos them in: "you don't think he's going to die?" 
Karrov: "that would not surprise me... at all."

Too bad then, that the Nayland Smith character arrives to chase them away! But they're not gone long. The Amazon Prime print is pretty good, so dig in! 


HOUSE OF MYSTERY
(1934) Dir. William Nigh
**1/2 / Amazon Image - C-

"Hindus! Tom toms! Apes! Haunted Houses!"

the posters for this film are lame so I figured I'd show
this Bernie Wrightston salvia hallucination comic book cover
There's a lot going on with John Pryn (Clay Clement), a super shady archaeologist who robs an ancient temple in India. He's such an entitled colonialist shit he whips the high priest with a riding crop, causing the old man's prayer bead necklace to break (the beads scatter down the temple steps dramatically). No one seems willing to stop him, the temple dancer girl Chanda (Joyzelle Joyner) likes him and helps him outrun the temple's pet gorilla. Rather than worry about getting the jewels back, the priest just levies "the Curse of Ka-La" --all who gain from his theft will die horrible deaths at the hands of some giant ape or other (what else do you want from an old dark house movie?). It can only be... "the curse of Ka-LA!" 

Years later the man finally agrees to share his stolen treasure with all of his expedition's investors (or their heirs). The catch, they must remain in his gloomy mansion with him for one year to um.... protect themselves from the curse of Ka-la! Naturally they all start dying in mysterious ways, and what's up with that motionless stuffed (?) ape in the library? And why does he have Chanda around as a kind of spiritual housekeeper/mistress. What's her deal (she can't be an out and out mistress or wife --miscegenation was still illegal in southern states.) ? And the sound of the drums... of Ka-La keep pounding when it's time for another killing. It's impoverished and star-starved but it does zip along. The only caveat is the annoying young insurance salesman heir as the ostensible hero. He thinks he's mighty irresistible, hitting on the now crippled Mr. Pryn's cute nurse. She tries to ward him off but where's she gonna go to get away? Urgh. So dated. Luckily he has just enough of Jackie Oakie dab about his cheeks and stances. 

The archaic early sound makes sure long pauses occur between each sentence (it seems much earlier than 1934). The long rambling scene of Pryn rattling off the terms of his share giving and the terrible curse is a great time to get popcorn or go the bathroom. Exchanges like: "Chanda is a strange person." / "Person? hah! She looks more like Gandhi's ghost" are pretty offensive. Luckily, the sharp-tongued old broad married to the fuddy-duddy professor has some good lines and there's an unspoken lesbian vibe between the faux hypochondriac  psychic"companion" who calls on her control, Pocahontas a lot, leading to great exchanges between "them" like asking Pocahontas "What is that which afflicts our nostrils and enervates our senses?" / "This night," answers Pocahontas "one of you will go behind the veil."

Meanwhile everyone not currently dead regularly dim the light for seances with the kooky psychic in the pitch dark until the psychic herself gets a giant ape neck snap. There's a looney plumber with a big cigar and a funny Vaudeville patter. The overblown comedy of the dopey cop ("There's been a murder committed here... Who did it?"). As with all these kinds of things, there's not a lot of tears shed for those gone beyond the veil and the three cops are each stupider than the last... in fact, this is almost a copy of the Gorilla, except instead of Bela Lugosi as a sardonic butler, there's a dopey plumber walking around with a stogie, and... of course... Chanda, a very interesting character in how she ultimately last man stands her way to glory! 

THE WAYNE MURDER CASE
(aka Strange Adventure)
(1932) Dir. Phil Witman
*** / Amazon Prime - C

It's of special interest since the reporter is very smart and cool and a girl; she's not afraid to scoop all her fellow journalists, yet they all think she's regular. There are a few knowing glances between her and her cop boyfriend and they both definitely know how to ferret out clues and sneak around the big empty house undetected to spy on murders, murderers, and tip-toeing suspects. In fact this is about the easiest piece of detective work ever since there's no dopey habit of being constantly in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gal reporter "Nosy" Noodles (June Clyde) and cop boyfriend Mitchell (Regis Toomey) swap banter and he threatens to take her over his knee if she doesn't keep out of his way as he ponders documents and sends chicken-eating coppers to round up the gathered throng. Both Mitchell and Nosy have skills as far as how watch without being detected, leading to a lot of cool little scenes of watching Nosy watch people creep around in order to pounce on each other, kind of like "Sleep No More" if you ever went to that. The old duffer, Silas Wayne, who kicks is a hateful fool so we surely don't mourn him and there's all sorts of great little touches, like wry bit of fake jewel substitution: Silas realizes his big rock is a glass fake, then the secretary deftly swaps the real one so Silas re-test it, then puts the fake one back in the safe and Silas tests it again and its fake, thus sending for the cops but then he's dead!! And Dwight Frye plays the romantic gigolo nephew. It's barely over an hour and there's a gooney dude in overisize hood and black sleeves, waving his arms around.




With racist butlering ministered by 'Snowflake.' He misidentifies a suit of armor as a "night-guard" amongst other things. 

MURDER BY THE CLOCK
(1931) Dir. Edward Sloman
**1/2 / Youtube Image - C

I've long been a proponent of this one, which to my recollection has never been shown on TV, either on TCM or back in the UHF era, and has never been on VHS or even some misbegotten Alpha DVD. For a long time the only proof it even existed was a loving write-up in a classic horror film book I had as a child.  Few critics have written about it, or waxed sufficiently euphoric over the gleeful performance of Lilyan Tashman as the evil and conniving Laura, conniving wife of lily-livered Herbert (Walter McGrail), nephew of the bossy premature burial-fearing matriarch Julia (Blanche Friderici) of the once-prominent Endicott clan (their memory evokes Ambersons-style magnificence in the mind of the cemetery groundskeeper across the street). Today, the big house holds only Julia, her only son, a totally deranged but childlike simpleton (hammed through the roof and beyond by the great Irving Pichel) with immense crushing power in his strong hands, and the no-nonsense housekeeper, who has to regularly check the 'alarm horn' inside Julia's waiting tomb (fun fact: being buried alive wasn't uncommon in the 1800s and early 1900s, leading to a craze for burial horns, visible windows in coffins, easy-escape tombs, etc i.e. Poe wasn't the only one to become obsessed by the terrifying idea). Anyway, what sets the dastardliness of Murder By the Clock in motion is Julia's foolish idea to--after a bickering row with the maid one afternoon and realizing the house would go to brain dead Pichel when she dies, Julia makes the mistake of changing her will over to her spineless louse nephew Herbert her prime beneficiary! Not smart, Julia! She's murdered the night she signs the will... like clockwork! Are we going to hear her funeral horn in the third act? I'll never tell. But I will say it would be a great old dark house just between Julia's morbid rantings, Pichel's lunatic laughter, the eerie graveyard across the street, and all the midnight creeping around the old mansion. But then you add the divine Tashman. Oh! Oh, that Lilyan.

 

Plying her strange seductive charms with all the subtlety of a punch in the face, Tashman proves one thing ably: shy men will always let themselves be manipulated by sexually forward women... they're just so grateful not to have to bust the first move. It can be oh so tough for shy guys to resist such a girl, even (or maybe especially) if she's only slightly attractive (i.e. 'ugly-sexy'). If a really beautiful woman comes onto a man who isn't used to it, the effect can be a kind of uncontrollable terror, stammering and running out the door (followed by weeks of self-reproach). If the shy guy and the hot girl do end up having sex, it's never any good. See, the hot girl is used to being bedded by expert seducers, which means they're more like wine snobs rather than just normal gals dying of thirst. A shy guy is too inexperienced to measure up, and on her end, she's never learned to be grateful, been sex-starved, eager to please. But an ugly-sexy lady like Tashman, a cop might figure he could let her seduce him and then arrest her. And that's why she's so dangerous. Over the course of the film she first manipulates her husband into killing Julia, then after she's dead, manipulates her sculptor lover into killing her husband. Pichel is blamed for Julia's murder - jailed on suspicion. Tashman's Laura comes to visit him and true to its (pre)code, lets him all but molest her through the bars while convincing him to break out (he can bend the bars with ease) and kill her husband, and/or her sculptor lover - whichever is still alive by then. So he's got every man killing every other man to be with her, just throwing them all into the big gloomy house, hoping none of them will live long enough to rat her out. Hot damn this lady rulez!

And ultimately the thing is, there is no hero or romantic lead to root for which makes it kind of a strange ride: all the men are easily seducible murderers. Only the homicide cop on the case, the Bickford-esque William Boyd, has any integrity.  Julia may have the other sucker's snowed with her ugly-sexy seductive pre-code wiles, but he's not having it. Still, he admires her powerfully for trying; some might say Boyd brought a little bit of her to Zolok, the evil ruler of The Lost City (1935), the glint of feral madness in the eyes, maybe. 

Thursday, September 24, 2020

The Gamma One Sextet: WAR OF THE PLANETS, WILD, WILD PLANET, WAR BETWEEN PLANETS, THE SNOW DEVILS, THE GREEN SLIME, BATTLE OF THE WORLDS


You could do a lot worse with your retro escapist sci-fi yen then explore the six films that loosely comprise the Ivan Reiner/Antonio Margheriti  Gamma One series, a mid-60s sexy space future where the United Democracy Space Center manages all the interplanetary threats, where endearingly cheap analog (in-camera) special effects, beautiful miniature cityscapes, space stations, and landing fields; tough guy performances, cohesive interplanetary space-military jargon, and occasional stealth feminism serve a no-nonsense scripts- all recycling names, characters, settings, footage, and actors and writers from one film to another.  

What is so fascinating is how they linked, not as some obvious series with a prefix in the title, but they recycle sets, props, character names, actors, miniatures, and a general mise-en-scene future, with a united government and revolving circular space stations in orbit around the solar system with names like "Gamma One" and "Gamma 3." But this isn't a TV series-based movie series like the Star Trek films, nor a series stemming from instant pop culture pervasion like Star Wars, these films aren't titled to draw attention to the others in the series; it's as if each one is stand alone, but just uses the same characters, actors, writers, sets, and props.  They're just there. What are they? And why am I so fascinated?

Getting to know these films can be confusing - they have similar names, and casts, but things keep changing. The main four films that comprise the "Gamma One Quadrilogy" were shot over a two year period in the mid-60s by genre journeyman Antonio Margheriti (using the Americanized pseudonym 'Anthony Dawson' in the credits) with co-producing and writing by American writer (and Batman co-creator) Ivan Reiner: Set in a future where mankind as moved out into space in much the way Werner von Braun laid out in early Disney films, with space stations revolving (to duplicate gravity) around the Earth, the moon, Mars, etc. The key station is "Gamma One," where men and women work side-by-side, clad in corsets (for the men only) and muted polyester, as interplanetary threats--'wild' planets, mutant-making splinter societies, abominable snowmen, and unified intelligence 'diaphanoids'-- come and are dispatched by intrepid commanders. Then the writers from the last film went Margheriti made went over to Japan two years later to make another unofficial entry, with none of the same characters but set on "Gamma 3" instead of Gamma One, and organized around the same Central Space Command idea. If you add to these five a film Margheriti made in 1964 that plants a lot of the seeds we'd reap in the Gamma One quadrilogy, then you have what I term the Gamma One Sextet - and you can even add a 1963 Japanese science fiction movie that seems a partial inspiration for The Green Slime if you want to be thorough. 

If you watch these films a few times you learn what the differences are between the Gamma, Alpha, and Delta space stations, the names of ships (given the names of planets, just to confuse) and manned satellites (like "Echo"), and they are not easy to keep separate as often the effects referred to are either not added (probably for budget reasons, or they looked too ridiculous even for Margheriti) or the same shots are used for exteriors. Also, the names of crew stay the same from film to film, but actors switch roles, furthering the mystery, alongside the overly similar titling. For example I was a fan of War Between Planets for a long time without realizing War of the Planets was a totally different film, albeit with some of the same cast in different roles. 


Of course my enthusiasm for this odd duck series may blind me to their niche appeal. The special effects are pretty bad, but to me that's part of the charm. First, there are no optical effects at all in any of these  films. Forget  about CGI, or hand-painted glowing shapes, here there's not even a laser beam scratched into the celluloid. When floating in space the wires are always visible, and far away astronauts are represented by floating plastic toy spacemen. When these characters fire their lasers (one guy even pronounces them 'lazz-ers'), it's as giant cigarette lighters meet blow torches, so they have to aim at things up in the air as that's where the flame is going anyway. When the ships roar through the cosmos there's this prop with three of them flying in formation, each spitting fire into nose of the one behind from their exhaust as they roar through the cosmos: in the light of the fire not only do you see the clear plastic rod connecting all three ships to each other and being held up by some offscreen hand, you can slightly see the studio back wall, painted black to resemble outer space but the lines of the Exit door visible in the light of the sparklers. The stars are almost afterthoughts, hanging low in the sky;  the Earth, when visible, is as 2D as if it was hanging in the back of kid's a stage show. Sometimes the darkness of space is more a light blue depending on how alert the lighting tech is. But who cares when the exterior miniatures are super cool like this? The imagination is there, in typical Italian genius style.

Here are the Main Four, the Gamma One Quadrilogy: (note that the ratings for all these are subjective and insular - so a film with four stars is four stars in comparison to the others, and so forth - all are worth seeing more than once. If you're into that sort of thing.)

 THE WILD, WILD PLANET
I criminali della galassia 
(1966) Dir. Antonio Margheriti 
**1/2

Though it has easily the best of all the movie posters (above). a title that urges you to consider it in the same hipster vein as Wild, Wild West, and a lot of great miniatures, ideas, and kooky sets, the first in "Anthony Dawson's" official Gamma One quartet suffers from too many gross outs (and a hero whose horror of genetic difference is both reprehensible and contagious), with one or two to many outdoor scenes back on Earth (nothing takes the air out of a goofy sci-fi movie like bright Italian sunlight), and a ridiculous villain in the corporate chemist "Mr. Nurmi" (Massimo Serato). A eugenics-crazed lunatic with his own corporation-owned planet, Delphus, he has a master plan to abduct 'perfect specimens' via a chemical that shrinks them down to Barbie-size, he's always clamoring about "perfection" even as his Klingon-esque eyebrows are peeling off under the sweaty soundstage kliegs. Nurmi's plan to purify the world is ridiculous, but even more so is the incredible slowness of Mike Halstead (Tony Russel) of Space Command to figure out what's going on. He regularly misses obvious clues (clones appearing in several places at once) and dismisses his own sister's eyewitness accounts as hysteria, at least at first. Eventually they figure it out, and thanks to a cool sketch artist dome, get an exact ID, but the skeevy irritation lingers. Still, this is such a completely realized mise-en-scene, such cool futuristic miniatures, futuristic cars, ray guns, etc. that it's hard to stay mad. Ivan Reiner (New York City-living Batman co-creator) gets sole screenwriting credit, indicating that the tenets of the series are really his baby. The impetus to make this a kind of loose "James Bond in space" series is clear here in this first film more than any of the ones that would follow. 

One-Offs: One tack that would disappear after this first entry is a typically-Italian anti-corporate motif in the form of gigantic chemical company CBM -who can get away with whatever they want, leaving Halstead to have to escape his house arrest to throw himself into the fray. It's a cliche'd antiauthoritarian slant that doesn't taste right in this kind of utopian collective future. We wouldn't see such division at the high end again in the series, which is to its credit. "All these parts of people, shrunken organs.. kind of makes me sick to my stomach" notes Halstead. "Perhaps the corporations.... will indoctrinate him," notes Nurmi. 

Special Effects: As with most of the series, the effects are terrible - ray guns are basically sparklers and lighters cranked to eleven (all effects are in-camera) Luckily Margheriti would rather give you a poorly designed alien world than just have another static, cheap, talky scene. But oh brother, don't get me started about the grimy-looking "Proteo Theater" with its butterfly dancers! Man, does Nurmi have some odd ideas.


Feminism:  The romantic bickering between the 'married to his job' commander of Gamma 1, Commander Mike Halstead (Tony Russell) and martial arts expert Connie, i.e. Lieutenant Gomez (Lisa Gastoni) has aged very badly. Connie doesn't give a good an impression of women in the workforce. She ignores red flags galore when she gets the leering proposition to go away to Nurmi's off-limits corporate planet, Delphus, merely because he calls her "a marvelous jungle animal" that he wants to to "explore."  And when she snaps to Mike, "I want to be treated as a woman, not as an equal," you want to find the macho idiot who wrote that line and belt him with a hardcover version of Molly Haskell. Worse, Connie goes from demonstrating kung fu to freaking out when blood comes out of the shower on Delphus, then to being locked up in an old-school medical version of a pillory without any argument. The language used by the guy introducing her to Nurmi is also offensive ("she's 100% for our commander, like she's some kind of reserved bottle of wine.) Halstead meanwhile is such a dumbass sexist he doesn't even notice the danger his arrogance is exposing Connie to. 

Score: A.F. Lavagnino delivers a nice processional orchestral theme, wistful, with harp, synth, and chime accents as it lilts into drowsy floating lullaby accents for things like space station maintenance. Echoey vibes and murky low end strings aid other areas with an aura of futuristic ominousness. 

Good Effects: in addition to the gorgeous miniatures, dig the full size set of the front of UDSCO (United Democracies Space Command), replete with subway maps, check-in desk, shop windows, with the working futuristic cars (though when they're outside the feeling is more Dr. Who or The Prisoner more than James Bond. Margheriti takes time to give us busy (indoor soundstage) exteriors of the UDSC, replete with televisions in windows advertising things like the "Computo-doll" (a computer animated talking baby doll) and "Nu-Face" an at-home plastic surgery kit. The beautifully-lit miniatures, reflecting launch pads with departing rockets, space port entrances, trains, and cityscapes, all a-glisten under black skies, are unique to the series. The end makes a grand use of the vast empty soundstage for the big holding area where the clones stand robotically around the blood pool and a giant 'merging' device is lowered from the cavernous ceiling like some expensive Dr. No style doomsday device (but it's really to inexplicably weld Connie and Nurmi into one super being... somehow).  Delphus is impressively flooded at the end, with lots of mutants drowning in red lake water.

I will forgive the terrible blue eyeshadow/pink lipstick combination of the enemy kung fu women because, well, I love the idea of them as a whole. I like that the film has the guts that makes it okay for the enemy agent lady to abduct a young moppet for no clear reason. There's a great hotel room fight between a bunch of kung-fu hittin' babes and the three space force Gamma 1 officers (which include a young Franco Nero in a supporting part); though it's funny they fight the men, while kung fu Connie hangs in limbo on Delphis. And there's a cool mid-air escape from an apartment window by Halstead after he's confined to quarters, when his crew (including Nero) swing by to pick him up in a craft before zipping over to Delphus! Good stuff. There's a cool shoot-out where the boys massacre a whole army of mutant clones, their four arms waving menacingly (some only have two but who's complaining?) and a final all-out brawl as the set is flooded with bloody eviscera-water that' evokes both Danny Torrance's special Overlook elevator and the flooding of the Romans after Moses gets across the Red Sea. And I have no problem with Connie riding out the big climax in her underwear. It lets us know that sexy poster is no lie after all! 

Egregious Offenses: Nurmi's mission on Halstead's station is to create living, autonomous human organs for transplants; Halstead looks at them and expresses his distaste; and then we're supposed to buy that a villain hung up on perfection wouldn't think his beautiful people might object to a life spent lounging by an open swimming pool full of blood and pureed human viscera (which they're also expected to shower with) that eventually spills through during the big collapse climax ala something between . Parts of the film seem to have been cut for budget or time -though we have but a glimpse of Nurmi's grand plan to become one with Connie (slice both people in half, literally, and splice them together!). And his planet Delphus seems to be awfully small. The tour of his place (under the blood lake) is freaky thoiugh, with a room full of deformed mutants straight of an AIP Lovecraft adaptation and trays full of severed limbs being dumped into the lake as 'leftovers'. The most disquieting element though is the uncanny look Nurmi's cloned henchman, a tall sharp-nosed man with an obscenely bald head barely covered by a fascist infantry cap, wearing a cheap black rubber raincoat too sizes too small. He's like that icky guy you have to be friends with in school since he's the only other kid who listens to punk rock. Luckily all his clones have four arms (making them "a freak... a sickening freak" as reactionary Halstead dubs him). The rest of Nurmi's 'perfection' army are women suffering a surfeit of cheap oily make-up, unflattering costumes (only the men wear corsets in the future!) with a dislike of harsh words, and trapped in godawful hair styles. 

Enzo Fiermonte status: He's called General Fowler here (the "Italian Burt Lancaster" plays a general in all four of the main quadrilogy but never keeps the same name)

Obsessive Hints: there's a pixie-faced brunette girl who keeps popping up as an extra in all these films as one of the crew. Here she actually gets some lines of dialogue (like "there's another phone call for you, commander, they say it's urgent," when passing him the phone). I have yet to find out who she is, but it's fascinating that she's always around in all four films. Look for the only half-shrunk scientist (Franco Doria) at the end, close to the bottom of the screen at the end, when Connie is all revealed in a fetching bathing suit and the gang is kicking back with cocktails by the (normal-colored) swimming pool. He's not bitter; he's impressed "it's not humorous, it's extraordinary!" (We don't get a cutaway to a close-up of him that might make the moment land). Try to figure out what is going on with Fowler and the thing he found in the wreckage ("my lucky number") that we don't get an insert close-up to see, or what drug he's talking about ("Sactanon"?) that he got on Delphus that "cleared (his) mind completely." Another cutaway seems to be missing... but that's the Margheriti touch. If you wanted 'perfection' you wouldn't be here. 

WAR OF THE PLANETS
I diafanoidi vengono da Marte 
(1966) Dir. Antonio Margheriti
***

Now safely off of Earth and up on Gamma 1, Commander Mike Halstead (Tony Russel) and Lieutenant. Connie, Gomez (Lisa Gastoni) are celebrating New Years, up to their old 'not as cute as they think' unprofessional bickering, and all the stations are competing for the best space display - or in Gamma One's case, a live space ballet of cheerleader-style letter spelling Happy New Year (in English!). But while that's going on - terror strikes - when one of the officers on duty that night, Captain Jacques Dubois (the Satanic-looking Michael Lemoine) is possessed by a green-lit fog. A hive mind of bodiless creatures roaming the galaxy in search of the ideal hosts, are attacking the space stations through their green light displays (which the revelers presume are fireworks or DTs). Though it takes awhile for it to sink in as the crews are all getting drunk and/or snogging (the dress designer Berenice Saprano doesn't waste a chance to trot out lots of cute space babes in various futuristic--albeit tasteful--dresses.), Margheriti proves himself a master of well executed crowd movements in the the way the emergency is gradually relayed from just a peculiar observation in background radiation all the way to evacuation of all guests, and the way the guests--drunk--make it no easy task. Ivan Reiner is back as screenwriter, here joined with Renato Morretti. 


Effects: I think the glowing green lights everyone sees flashing in the corner of their eyes are supposed to be something tangible, though all we ever see of them are rushing green smoke illuminated from a green light off camera (and occasionally the sight of some weird floating blob thing that Margheriti seems ashamed of so we're missing a lot of cutaways). We have to take Halstead's right hand man's word that "you did it commander - you knocked 'em right out of orbit" by- luring them between two lead shields and then blasting 'lazzers' at them. When he tells the crew to "get ready with the .38s!" it's pretty funny - imagining shooting bullets at puffs of smoke. We're a long way from the same year's Planet of the Vampires, which managed to get by with using a few bicycle reflector lights to depict a similar alien threat (bodiless spirits possessing astronauts - an all-too common--and cost-cutting--alien threat). But we're still in the same country, with the same abundant creative spirit and ability to a do a whole lot on a relatively small budget. 

Egregious Offenses: The gross idea of some dusty old automated system on Mars, wherein you just push a button and get "lobster tails ala bracco" instantly delivered from inside a steel block, is kind of gross. Even more so is the idea of young Franco Nero sitting right down and gorging himself without the slightest qualm, never considering it must have been a long time since anyone reloaded the fridge (lobsters don't grow on Mars, and they don't age well). When he's all done and mutters "What do we do with the garbage, leave it for the maid?" I find it especially wrankling. It's been a long time since I heard a lobster so disgraced! 

Enzo Fiermonte status: Imdb is, I think, mixed up: he's billed General Halstead here (Mike's father!). But actually he's the scientist Werner and slightly less behind the learning curve than usual, with probing questions like, "Did something happen, if so, what? Then we can ask... why?" Later he becomes one of the first scientists to want to experience an alien mind meld ("I would like to experience this.") Halstead here is... I don't know who... but is more of the mind that "We'll need some of that boy's wild bravado before this is all over," when his son disobeys orders yet again. 

Plusses: Lots of groovy tracking shots this time, one involving a helmet-less stagger across a flat planetary surface to escape at the climax, with a red tinted space sky and full size ships and vehicles crawled gaspingly passed in favor of a bigger craft all the way across the red sandy (all indoor soundstage with cool lighting) landing area. There is also a marvelous walk across what is a big hangar / boiler room / garage / soundstage garage on either Gamma One or Earth, as the crew set out on this journey to a remote mining planet (Mars?); and a long, kind of pointlessly elongated automated walkway journey down into the dark recesses of the mine where the "hosting" ceremony is going on. The big New Years parties on all the various space stations and Earth HQ are also shown in elaborate detail, as if we'll see these people again (we never do). 

Feminism: Along with the first film, this is one of the more sexist of the series, with Sanchez easily hypnotized into a green trance, and spending most of the movie a zombie, and there's an older officer as well (same deal). They don't get much dialogue but Sanchez gets all pissy when--again--Mike treats her like an officer in front of the troops instead of getting all romantic, which seems hopelessly unprofessional. She looks good though, and there are more than a few pretty faces floating around at the party (such as that unbilled pixie-faced girl from the previous film). "When are you coming to Alpha 2 to teach our girls karate?" asks a fellow communications officer when Connie drops into her department. But then emergency signals erupt from Delta-2, which she throws to Mike to keep him from 'getting involved' with a bedroom-eyes making ground chick (unbilled). 

Final Thoughts: The difference between these first two films (with Halstead) and the next two are interesting in a thematic countercultural way reflecting Italian social disillusion. The first two threats here are similar - a lunatic desire for 'sameness' that requires massive casualties in the 'imperfect' specimens. Though it's all very retro for the Vietnam era, the enforced uniformity dread is the same as so many other films of the time. The next two are much more abstract and fantastical in their threats. There's no longer any division within the human ranks. The threats are completely external, and therefore--in my mind--far more pleasurable for repeat viewing. 

WAR BETWEEN THE PLANETS 
Il pianeta errante 
(1966) Dir. Antonio Margheriti 
***1/2

You guessed it - the title to this one is the "runaway planet" or "The Errant Planet" if you want to be exact. But distributors eager perhaps to jump on the press they did for the last film (or was this one first?) but banking on a short memory.. ? no, anyway you look at it, the nearly identical title makes no sense, especially considering its got much of the same cast and props, so that if you were sleeping through the last movie you might not be able to tell the difference!

Cast: This is one of my favorites as it has Giacomo Rossi Stuart (Kill Baby Kill!), who with his regular voiceover dubber whomever it is is a master - at matching GRS's brief lip movements with great torrents of tough snapped dialogue, which is the way a coiled natural leader with a GI Joe-style handle like Commander Rod Jacskon would be. The dubbing is great matching the lips with weird hesitance and fast-talking when necessary. Dialogue is rich.... and wondrous, using the weird pauses of the actors to create mood and drama rather than just making them sound drunk: "Read your retros - don't get clogged, Mack!" / "Who's got the flagship?!" Great lines like the interchange with his on-station lover Terry Sanchez (Ombretta Colli):


"I'm engaged to her Terry.... not that... I want to be."
"Cant you keep her from coming up here?"
"I'm afraid..... it's too involved ...for that."

It's in charge of communications and she's way more low key and professional than Lisa Gastoni was with Mike Halstead in the first two films. They've been having an affair when not too busy with space; and there's just one hitch - Rod's dopey, cat-eyed fiancee is down on Earth, and happens to be the General's daughter (Halina Zalewski of Long Hair of Death fame). Pietro Maretellenzana is Toby, AKA Capt. Dubrowski, who is buddies of sorts with Commander Jackson but has a hard time taking orders.

FX: The exterior (beyond the pull of the space wheel) is once again the worst part as far as being convincing, and therefore the best - while they stand on the edge the stars don't move as they would if the wheel was spinning (to create gravity) and naturally the flying through space is all done from wires so everyone looks like they're lifted up by the seat of their britches. Man it's ridiculous but the music is nice and ominous and weird.

Enzo Fiermonte status: He's called General Norton here, and Janet (Zalewska) accompanies him like a secretary or something, even getting him to cut short an important meeting so she can whine about not hearing from Mike on Gamma One! Norton, that's so unprofessional! 
 
It's not so much it's that riveting but its rich with delight.
that unknown pixie-faced extra - left, behind Ombretta Coli.

There are no weird aliens, but the errant planet, soaring too close to earth's gravitational field, creates enough geologic and tidal disturbances that it's more devastating than an invasion (most of the calamity is offscreen),. It's uninhabited but impressive and alive within itself, with fields of cold red gelatin quicksand and islands of hairy ground surrounding craters breathing out plumes of cold steam. Going into one of the craters, they find a world like Fantastic Voyage's brain or bloodstream. While trying to plant anti-matter bombs they're attacked by long veinlike white tendrils that bleed but repair themselves as soon as Rod stops hacking at them. We've seen the look of this interior before, those long tendrils were hanging around in the last film in the series, War of the Planets. And back in 1964 in Margheriti's Battle of the Worlds it was almost the same exact planet! It's like it's back again, but in a different universe.


The imdb score is unfairly low, and perhaps based on old faded VHS pan and scans (or memories of being horribly bored as a kid catching it on TV, marveling that an astronaut hacking at white tubes constituted a science fiction movie); but the Prime print is sublime. It lets the scheme of dark colors-- greys, blacks and red that make up the bulk of the colors look really rich and alluring. If space opera style drama and mature, adults doing work as an organized group in constant radio communication is your bag, this is like the base, the raw go-to for all your Italian swinging cocktail space station needs.  I can see it any old time, and if nothing else, it rocks me to sleep like a baby. That cool dubbing voice of Stuart's "Don't get clogged, Mac!" it's like the manly manna to lure me out of any panic attack as gelatinous planet surface seems to envelop my ship, essentially burying me alive. "Use your retros!"

THE SNOW DEVILS
La morte viene dal pianeta Aytin
(1966) Dir. Antonio Margheriti
*** 

Reiner Alert: One again the name Ivan Reiner crops up in the writing credits. Is he like the showrunner? He never wrote another movie series (but one of his co-writers Bill Finger co-created Batman with Bob Kane and invented most of the cooler characters--Joker, Cat Woman, Riddler). Reiner, Finger and Charles Sinclair went on to do The Green Slime in Japan. 

In some ways this is a step back from the  show a regular improvement, gaining steadily since the herky-jerky Wild, Wild Planet, in others, it's a step back from the last film --it looks cheaper around the edges (especially the ship interiors and the cheap plastic flight helmets that count for space gear.) There's more Earth travel, and a snow-bound centerpiece, a long trek from a village in Nepal up a Himalayan mountain to seek the mighty yeti. The last segment is the flight to "the big one, Jupiter" for a mission to save the Earth once again, but 

Cast: Giacomi-Rossi Stuart's Commander Rod Jackson is back from the previous film and is no longer with either girl; he doesn't look as virile, his crazy hairpiece is over-the-top, and the English dub is by someone else, whose robotic nasality is serviceable but lacks the sexy sense of virile authority and precision from the last film. Ombretta Colli is here, though now she's called Lisa and has strange cheekbones, a terrible wig, and is dating someone else. Halena Zalewski wears the same outfit and sagging reptilian black hair bun and gold lame jumpsuit, but she's no longer engaged to Rod and no longer the general's daughter - she's called Lt. Sanchez, now just to confuse things. Geoffredo Unger us back from the grave as Rod's right hand man, we see them hanging out with a ginger kid who I can only assume is Toby's orphaned son seen at the end of the last film. Well, the kid only gets the one scene (thank goodness) and soon Rod and Pulaski are jetting off the Himalayas -- just one of the weird bits of para-continuity that makes this series so fascinating.  

Debits: This is a very segmented film, not unlike Empire Strikes Back in that it seems to be several different films welded together, from the weird intro of Rod and Pulaski's vacation spots (which we never see again) to dispatched to Nepal to climb the Himalayas (or at least a few snowy sloped hills somewhere in the Italian Alps), to a cave leading to the Snowmen's secret relay station; and then out to space to blow up one of Jupiter's moons. The indoor scenes, such as a strange 'night life' sequence with their guide (Wilbert Bradley) doing an impression of a sherpa that would embarrass Alan Bourdillon Trahearne, have a sweaty pale claustrophobia. 

That's all minor quibbles, of course, Each part is interesting and the last section, the flight to Jupiter, has everything we've by now come to adore about the series, from those white air force helmets to the high wire astronauts swinging through the darkness of studio space to plant bombs on asteroids; and of course the same endearing exploding miniatures moonscapes and space stations we've seen in by now all four films.

Music: Angelo Francesco Lavagnino's theme song is second only to the Green Slime for series best, with a slinky lead guitar and a pleasingly ominous beat. The main instrument for the rest seems to be a clanging piano, lower keys banged and boomed so all the strings vibrate; a rippling bongo beat rolls beneath.

Enzo Fiermonte status: He gets to stay General Norton this time, even if his daughter is now nonexistent (With Zalewska playing Lt. Sanchez). He's just as ineffectual as ever, getting all flustered when Jackson isn't right at his post even though he just approved leave, getting mad he didn't use the heli-jet, not realizing it's been destroyed, and so forth.

Uniforms: I like the red triangle on their navy blue uniform with the light blue trim. As with Wild Wild Planet the costumes and make-up are all substantially cheap-looking, but once we're in the caves with the snowmen there's at least some nice painted frost, cold air (for steam breath) and clever lighting (purples and greens). Best of all, the snowmen themselves: giant actors in elegant in green vinyl bathing suits over dark grey long underwear with red capes and sashes; with puffy grey hair, beards and big medallions they look like a crew of Germanic salt and pepper "bears" at some 70s disco. 

Odd Touches: it takes awhile to kick in at first there's some weird things; the winter station has a blue and black uniform and there's a beefy silver-haired actor as the commander of the station - a weird symbiosis to the big snow devil aliens and his salt and pepper beard. There's a yeti footprint in plaster, a global warming plot, and a sudden kiss in a tent that works for being so innocent; she's looking for her MIA husband, and he just happened to be there, and so it doesn't progress but it also doesn't get awkward between them afterwards the way it would in an American film. They're adults, and are still there for each other. 

FX: As with all the other films in the series, the laser guns shoot a mix of sparklers and flames, like giant cigarette lighters/blowtorches (every special effect in the series is done 'in-camera') but some of the gorgeous miniatures not seen in the other films include a snowbound arctic station and burning heli-jet sabotage.

THE GREEN SLIME
(1968) Dir. Kinji Fukasaku
****
Writer/co-producer Ivan Reiner is back one more time as is the space station design and overall vibe / mise-en-scene; instead of Gamma 1 this time (or in addition to), it's Gamma 3, further out there. Neither Jackson or Halstead are around, nor is Margheriti, but Fukasaku more than makes up for it with a well-oiled thrill machine. Shot in English with what seems to be a bigger budget, a better sense of pace and dynamics than the Margheriti films, it's a load of cohesive fun. This time the Toby-Rod dynamic from Between is back, with the square-jawed Commander Rankin (the iron cool Robert Horton) sent on an urgent mission to blow up an encroaching asteroid. First he has to go to space station Gamma 3 and that means bumping into station chief Vince Elliott (Richard Baywatch Jaeckel, sporting an aggressive blonde buzzcut and a short guy shoulder chip.) Elliott questions his decisions every step of the way, and then the mission is almost blown thanks to a dawdling biologist (the inescapable Ted Gunther) who finds a glowing green slime ball on his sample case. Uh oh. Naturally he has to bring a chunk back with him, though in a way it's not even his fault the thing gets loose and spreads like wildfire. Rankin trashes the sample case, runs decontamination three times ("three times!?" exclaims Elliott), but it's Vince who ends up killing more men in his attempts to aid the ever-clumsy Gunther.


Back on Gamma 3, Rankin moves in on more than station command, there's also the chief medical officer, sexy-lipped Luciana Paluzzi (Thunderball), dressed here in sexy silver glitter open-midriff disco-heralding jump suit. The camerawork is tight, the sets are cohesive, impressive and just artistic enough to seem inviting, with impressive close-ups; and tough (non-dubbed) English language dialogue, and of course the monsters are incredibly endearing, if sloppily-painted, and they make a groovy whir-squeal noise as they go breaking through walls in search of the electric current that stimulates their cell division. I remember my first ever rubber monster thumb puppet from the 25 cents gum ball machine when I was two or three. I loved that thing. And it looked just like these slimy monsters, so maybe I'm prejudiced. I also love the scenes of the army of cute blonde nurses wheeling wounded patients' hospital beds away from the monsters and the care the filmmakers take in displaying corridor maps so we know just where 'c-block' is.

FX: The first in the sextet to use optical effects, this has bright yellow laser beams painted on, and some process shots as the men fly around in space outside the station, zapping monsters as they swing by on their wires. 


Pros: It's probably the best parable for letting liberal empathy make you a bad leader --Vince is the kind of bleeding heart who would "kill ten to save one" as Rankin puts it (summing up one of Vince's past blunders). Paluzzi sticks up for Vince in that same puppy dog pity way that Katniss frets over little Peta in The Hunger Games. There is also a good parable to glean with the way the slime spreads and multiplies as an invasive species, ala COVID wherein once an invasive organism jumps containment, you have to keep evacuating, no room to fret and 'try', It's not long before the whole station must be blown to shreds before it crashes and spreads its tentacled plague to the world! 

In short, this movie is the best of everything. 

Score: Love that theme song with the Tommy Holland-ish lead vocal. And the Toshiaki Tsushima / Charles Fox score is very slinky, with lots of pizzicato string bends that mimic the sounds of the instrumentation, blaring horn stabs, modernist xylophones, blowsy bassoons, and the occasional thunderous string passage.

UNOFFICIAL PREQUELS:
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BATTLE OF THE WORLDS
Il Pianeta degli uomini spenti / Translation: Planet of Extinct Men
(1961) Dir. Antonio Margheriti
**1/2

Sort of the early prequel to Margheriti's 1966-7 "Gamma One" Tetralogy (note its American title is Battle of the Worlds, and is not be confused his War Between the Planets or War of the Planets, both of which came later and all of which resist using "war" and "worlds" in the same title). When a runaway planet enters out solar system, the world's leading observatories look to a hamming wildly Claude Raines as a Einstein/Hawking-style grand vizier of physics. Ever the sport, Raines dubs his own voice, superbly, and even wears a big space helmet during the big alien planet-landing climax. Racing around like a kid in a candy store through miles of alien tubing and red gel lights (an early version of the similar "runaway" in War Between the Planets), Raines saves the day by issuing grating 'music of the spheres' from his portable synthesizer. (enemy UFOs are maneuver via sound waves, leading to lots of overlaid asynchronous tones as ships race into heavily-edited dogfights). Mixing Mycroft Holmes and Peter O'Toole doing Henry II, Raine's mathematician physicist is so brilliant he can just write an equation on the observatory floor in chalk for the world's leaders to see (via camera phones) and the world is saved. A pair of young couples (one from a Martian outpost, and a pair from his own observatory) fawn over him and stand around in awe and then saddle up when it's time to ride out of orbit and take on "the Outsider" (as Raines dubs it). In many ways I like this film more than that Wild Wild Planet that came next in Margheriti's sci-fi development, though really both are essential. This may lack a more fully realized UDSC mise-en-scene compared to the 'official' Gamma One quadrilogy, but Raines keeps it vibrant, powering through the limits in budget with his florid gumption. 

Score: Mario Migliardi's score smoothes over any soft patches and helps to give the rocky island scenery a proto-giallo sense of class. That said, the barrage of jarring synth noises in the second half, during Raines' 'music of the spheres' phase, may wake and annoy your sleeping girlfriend if you don't keep the volume low.

Prayer for a Remastered 2K Blu-ray: Long a PD title, one can dream of seeing this one day remastered to look as good as the (above) War Between the Planets. What else is the stuffing of the stars, professor, if not such dreams? As it is, the big climax finds the astronauts all gawking at what looks like a Rauschenberg 'black' painting leaning against the tunnel floor, but is supposed to be dead aliens.

THE X FROM OUTER SPACE
Uchû daikaijû Girara
(1963) Dir. Kazui Nihonmatsu
*** / Criterion Channel Image - B-/C

Though it shares no co-creators, it's pretty clear this was at least a partial inspiration for The Green Slime, with its future of moon base cocktails and plot of a biological sample, taken during a dangerous mission, that grows insanely via gobbling energy, and running amok, while the gang celebrate with cocktails back at base. With a happy astro-theme song and groovy lounge soundtrack (courtesy Taku Izumi), a cheerful shade of blue for the outer space backgrounds, and cute if unconvincing space miniatures,  a goofy monster, and a pretty, youthful international cast, and cheap-ass sets, X is set--like its Gamma One descendants--in that once-so entrenched in its seemingly inevitable immediate future--conjured by Werner von Braun and Walt Disney. Here we got cute blonde gaijin astrobiologist Lisa (Peggy Neal) as the girl in a group of four bound for Mars, stopping off on the moon to party with cute Michiko (Itoko Harada), whose got a crush on Capt. Sano (Shun'ya Wazaki), who crushes on Lisa, who likes him too but knows Michiko crushes so much harder. Japanese sci-fi gaijin mainstay Franz Gruber sports a goatee as a high-ranking scientific advisor (he also counsels Lisa when hearts gets too heavy). Planetary danger erupts when Lisa collects a tiny alien spore she found stuck to the ship's tail fin and brings it down to Earth. This one leaves a chicken size footprint etched in acid and immediately grows kaiju massive!

Though quite joyful and triumphant (just this side of The Giant Claw in pleasing ridiculousness) Guilala's attacks are a bit on the weaker side compared to his more esteemed Toho comrade, but with all the fun jetting back and forth from the moon to Earth to that loungedelic Taku Izumi score, the glowing soap dish UFO visits, the widescreen medium shot compositions, the luminous glowing skin of the two lead actresses, and Guilala's aerodynamic head-curling its edges when blasting laser spitballs, it just doesn't matter.

Grooving at the moon's astro-lounge, foggily

The Criterion image is soft but hey - if not for their "It came from Shochiku" Eclipse series, it wouldn't be out on anything but a $60 Japanese import (and you would never buy it without first knowing how much it rocked), because if there are cocktails being served on space stations or the moon in a 60s science fiction film, I shall be crawling forth, insatiable. There is no 'counting days' when there are no longer 'days' without Earth's gravitational spin and these seven films just aren't enough to stem my shakes!

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So...

You can find BATTLE OF THE WORLDS and WAR BETWEEN PLANETS streaming on Amazon Prime. For more cool 60s science fiction on Prime, check out this post from a few months ago. 

As for rest, you can find them on nice DVRs from Warner Archive. The X FROM OUTER SPACE is on the Criterion Channel.
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