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[Apr. 4, 1964] A taste of brine (the book and movie, The Amphibian)

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by Margarita Mospanova

In every reader’s life there comes a time which we all dread. A time we try to forget as soon as it happens. A time when we finish reading a book that by all accounts should be a delight but that instead bores us to tears and makes us wish time travel was real just so we could go back in time and skip the experience altogether.

And sadly, dear readers, that is exactly what happened to me when I turned the last page of The Amphibian.

But first things first.

The novel was written by Alexander Beliaev in 1927 and published just a year later, first in a magazine, and then as a stand-alone book. It was published in English in 1962 by Moscow’s Foreign Languages Publishing House.

The story is set in Argentina and follows Ichthyander, an adopted son of a world-renowned surgeon, Salvator. When he was but an infant, Ichthyander was very ill and to save his life Salvator transplanted a set of shark gills onto him, giving his son the ability to breathe underwater. Hence the name, as the parts of it come from Ancient Greek, translating to “fish” and “man”. The pair live a fairly idyllic life in large mansion, the father treating locals and the son spending much of his time playing in the ocean.

However, as Ichthyander grows older, he become more reckless, attacking Argentinian fishermen and returning their hauls back to the water. Until one day, one of the local pearl gatherers, Pedro Zurita, sees him, and realizing the boy’s potential as a pearl diver, tries to catch him.

That doesn’t sound too bad, you might say. And you would be right, the plot looks quite interesting. In theory. In practice, the story has been flung head first against a truly horrendous writing style, flat characters, and unnatural dialogues.

The Russian text reads like a badly done translation. It is all the more unfortunate, when the rest of Beliaev’s books (at least the ones I’m familiar with) are written perfectly well. I suppose the author wanted to mimic the often more abrupt style favored by Western writers, but if so, he failed. And failed spectacularly.

Therefore, it will not come as a surprise when I say: read the book in English. Ignore the original Russian text and skip right to the translated version. I dare say, you will find yourselves much more satisfied with the book than I did.

Still, there were a couple of passages, all of them describing nature, the ocean specifically, that hinted at what the book might have been had the prose been more… engaging. But they were few and far between.

Out of all the characters the only ones that had at least a small spark of life in them were Baltasar, Zurita’s right hand and the father of Ichthyander’s love interest (don’t start me on that particular train wreck), and Zurita’s mother, a cranky old woman. The rest were blander than cardboard.

(You might have noticed – I really didn’t like the book.)

And now we come to the crux of the problem. The book was bad. Why would I, or anyone else for that matter, bother to read it?

And the answer, dear readers, is that in 1962 it was made into one of the best movies I’ve ever seen in my life.

The Amphibian Man turned flat and uninteresting characters into real people, dry prose into stunning visuals. It has you gripping the edges of your seat, from the beginning to the very end. You fret over Ichthyander’s naive and innocent nature, tie yourself into conflicted knots over don Pedro’s actions, empathize with Salvator, and curse the cruel Argentinian policemen.

This is a movie that, I’m sure, we will be watching even after the turn of the second millennium, no matter how optimistic that sounds.

And The Amphibian is the book that made it possible. That alone turns it into a worthy read, even if nothing else does. That is why, at the end of it, I give The Amphibian one bookish and five cinematic stars out of five.

(Now go watch the movie!)

[And come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!  Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Movies

[March 31, 1964] 7 Faces and 7 Places (The movie, 7 Faces of Dr. Lao)

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by Victoria Lucas

Place Number 1: Denver

The neat thing about film festivals is not just being able to see more than one film in a short period of time.  It's the gossip, the revelations, the people who show up, some of them onstage.  In this case the festival site was Denver, Colorado.  Seem an unlikely place for a film festival?  But there it was that "7 Faces of Dr. Lao," made last year, enjoyed its first U.S. release on March 18.  I went there basically to see that one film, but my ride-sharing friend went to see many.  So I saw a little of Denver outside the movie theater.  But I'm not here to review Denver. 


My mom's postcard—I don't have a camera

Place Number 2: the MGM lot

If you saw my review of Finney's Circus of Dr. Lao back on June 16, 1962 you would know why I went to such (literally) lengths to see this movie.  It did not disappoint, but I did object to the interpolations of a soppy romance and a hackneyed Western takeover-the-town plot.  The "Circus" was filmed, according to sources, on the MGM back lots, although some of those Culver City hills must be pretty rough if that's so.  My theory is that filming on location was out due to the many roles of Tony Randall, who plays Dr. Lao, the Abominable Snowman, Merlin, Apollonius of Tyana, Pan, The Giant Serpent, and Medusa.  All those makeup and costume changes (to say nothing of any other cast) must have needed the workshop of famed makeup artist William Tuttle and a large selection of MGM costumes, as well as (not credited) costumer Robert Fuca.

Place Number 3: Chujen, Chu, China

This was the last place Laozi was seen alive (531 BC), if indeed he did live.  In the movie, but not the book, the Abalone newspaper editor, Ed, asks where he is from, and after Dr. Lao tells him this place, Ed looks it up (providing an opportunity to see his love Agnes, who in the movie is a librarian as well as a teacher) and confronts Dr. Lao with the news that Chujen no longer exists, so what is going on?  So we and Ed see the circus tent and Merlin (not in the book) for the first time.  And that provides me with an excuse to tell you the following.  The plot of both Finney's story and the film was, very briefly, that the circus comes to town, the town of Abalone, to be exact.  But it's not a Barnum & Bailey-type circus.  It arrives somehow with, or in the person of, the Chinese legend Laozi (Lao-Tse, Dr. Lao, or as you wish), since in the movie he arrives on a donkey with only a fishbowl and fish, as well as a pipe, which he ignites with his thumb as lighter.  It consists of other legends, myths, and gods in—as it were—the flesh.  The rest is what happens to, of, with, by, and from the circus and its hawker, guide, medicine man, and (in the movie) magical self, Dr. Lao.


Courtesy of University of Arizona Special Collections

Place Number 4: Abalone, Arizona

MGM's Abalone, understandably, looks just like all those old western towns you see in television shows and movies, more than one horse, but not more than half a dozen, and not more than that many streets.  I always thought of Finney's Circus as taking place in the late 1920s, when he began the story while he was still billeted in China by the U.S. Army.  But this version of the story takes place in that same smeared-out time zone that westerns always use—somewhere between 1890 and 1910, when record players were known as gramophones, and when men were men and women were uh … unable to take care of ourselves. 

Place Number 5: Tucson, Arizona

Many people, including me, think that Abalone, Arizona—the setting of more than one Finney story—was actually Tucson.  And there is an "Old Tucson," a movie set just outside Tucson that became a tourist attraction in which the stagecoach gets robbed twice daily.  The set really epitomizes that "Old West" stereotype that dominates in "7 Faces."  But in desert scenes, saguaro cacti figure heavily in the movie's landscape.  Most people don't know that saguaros are not found anywhere but in the Sonoran Desert.  There is a certain creep, perhaps a foot or so per year, as the cacti spread around mainly southern Arizona (U.S.) and northern Sonora (Mexico), but at this point they only live in the Southwest, and not on the MGM lot in California.  The ones on the MGM lot look pretty strange.  I would have said that the cacti were the worst things about the movie, were it not that I realized that their strange appearance (looking like cardboard cutouts) adds to the surreal nature of the film.


A real—not surreal—saguaro cactus near Tucson, Arizona

Place Number 6: Dr. Lao's circus tent

The circus tent of the good doctor is said to be "bigger on the inside than it is on the outside" by one observer in the movie, and indeed it has many twistings and turnings.  In fact it is rather like a layered labyrinth and is a remarkable movie set, one of the best inventions of the movie, I think.  There is a lair for every beast, a spiel for every part of the tent.  Steps up, steps down– Hurry! Hurry!–a very strange circus tent that provides the setting for the fish from Dr. Lao's fishbowl, not in the book, but in the movie an excuse for some animation when it grows to the size of the sea serpent advertised.  The book ends with the story of Woldercan (below), but the movie has a showdown with villain Clint Stark's henchmen that burns the tent.

Place Number 7: Woldercan

Woldercan was a city dominated by a vengeful god in Finney's Circus, and now, in the movie, destroyed by improbable cataclysms.  In both the movie and the book, Woldercan is shown as if unfolding outside as the rear of the tent rolls up, but in the movie the people of the city look like the people of Abalone, and they are led astray by a man who looks like Stark.  In the book they are threatened by starvation and flock to the temple, where a dispute over which virgin to sacrifice leads to the deaths of three people—not the whole city.  In the movie the story of Woldercan becomes the turning point in the Stark v. Abalone battle.


The author, courtesy of University of Arizona Special Collections

As I think of it, the movie was funny although not Finney, worth seeing for the performances of Randall and Barbara Eden (Angela), the jokes and pokes at westerns—oh, and don't forget the surrealism.  Go see this circus when it comes to town.

And now for a little catalog.  Finney put one at the end of his story, so I thought I'd put just a short one in:

Plots & bits interposed in Finney's tale:

  • romance of Angela & Ed
  • politics of Clint Stark v. Abalone, including meetings, printshop destruction
  • Lao's interruption of beating of George who is supposed to be a Navajo (Indians from Northern Arizona) played by a Lakota (Plains) Indian
  • inflation of sea monster
  • Lao's trick of lighting his thumb
  • Lao's trick of speaking any dialect, not just perfect English v. Chinee American stereotypical dialect.

Men-like creatures not in book:

  • abominable snowman (screenwriters' solution to the book's Russian v. bear problem)
  • Mike (Angela's son)
  • Clint Stark
  • cowboy muscle and snark
  • Merlin the magician (Apollonius was the magician in the book)
  • Ed Cunningham (Angela's honey and editor of the newspaper)

Woman-like creatures not in book:

  • Angela's mother-in-law

Ending as it began

As for Laozi (not pronounced LOWzee), he was last seen riding into the west, but in the 6th century BC that was on a water buffalo.  On the MGM lot in 1963 it was on a donkey, and in the direction of some cardboard saguaros.  Or, as the movie's Dr. Lao (pronounced LOW) would say, "Hello.  Goodbye.  Thank you."

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!  Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Movies

[March 19, 1964] When Vampires Rule the World (Ubaldo Ragona and Sidney Salkow's The Last Man on Earth)

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by Rosemary Benton

Horror meets SF

As creators and Hollywood producers have found, horror is a versatile complementary genre that has been instrumental to the fear factor within thrillers, the stark human experience in film noir, and the complex depth of character behind a compelling villain. Recently, the genre has been going through a bit of a self-imposed revolution as it moves away from late 1800s and early 1900s stock-stories to pair off with 1950s science fiction literature such as John Wyndham's book The Day of the Triffids. Comedy has increasingly been a partnered with horror, as in The Tingler (1959), the self-aware movie The Comedy of Terrors (January 1964), and the upcoming freaky-family sitcom The Addams Family.

Those who have made a name for themselves as character actors within horror (Boris Karloff, Peter Lorre, Christopher Lee, Bela Lugosi, Peter Cushing, and of course Vincent Price) are more and more finding themselves in roles that are written to be the very embodiments of the characters they were initially typecast as. While they take on these roles with flair and aplomb, seeing them act outside of their comfortable and accommodating niches is an exciting opportunity for their fans. This month the debonair gentleman-villain/tragic aristocrat character actor Vincent Price was given the opportunity to showcase his acting talent in the newly released film, The Last Man on Earth, a film that promised to be a stark departure from his previous roles.

Based on the 1954 novel I Am Legend by Richard Matheson, The Last Man on Earth follows the depressing life of Robert Morgan (played by Vincent Price) after a deadly plague sweeps the planet, turning infected people and animals into shambling, blood thirsty vampire ghouls. Even with the book's heavy reliance on internal dialogue and the writing's somewhat disjointed flow, a brilliant movie adaptation of I Am Legend would be entirely possible in the hands of a succinct screenwriter, a brooding leading actor, and a director capable of bringing severe emotional distress to the screen. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of the talented team behind Last Man, none of these elements quite linked up with one another. The result is severely disappointing.

What Happened?

Robert Morgan was once a scientist working to find a cure to the plague creeping across the globe. But when the disease took his neighbors, his fellow scientists, then his child and finally his wife, Robert found himself alone with the terrible burden of quite possibly being the last human being alive.

Boarding up his house and festooning it with garlic strands, crosses and mirrors, Robert whiles away his evenings making stakes and farming garlic as the zombie-like vampires beat away at the outside of his house. Alcohol, records, books and home videos are some comfort, but also stand as constant reminders of the civilization he is now bereft of. During the day when the vampires seek shelter from the sun Morgan methodically sweeps the area to hunt them down, stake them, load them into his station wagon and drive the bodies out to an ever burning plague pit.

After three years of this grim routine Robert happens to come across a woman named Ruth Collins (played by Franca Bettoia) who is out walking in the sunlight. He chases her down and brings her back to his home. Robert soon deduces that she is one of the infected, but comes to find out that the vampire disease has been contained with a drug that must be taken regularly lest the victim lose their sanity. She tells him that she was sent to spy on him by order of the new society of vampires she belongs to. The group intends to find a way to take revenge on Robert for killing many of their number as they hid from the sun. She explains to him that he is the new monster in this world, killing during the day while the new norm sleep.

After a short altercation Ruth becomes unconscious. While she is out Robert filters Ruth's blood through his own body via a makeshift dialysis setup, effectively curing her of the vampirism. But Robert's discovery of a cure is too little too late. As Ruth and Robert come to realize the miracle that has taken place a vampire breaks into the house and bites Ruth, effectively ending her brief return to full humanity. Just then black vans full of heavily armed vampires roll up and begin to slaughter the feral ghouls stalking around Robert's property. Their mission is to exterminate Robert, just as he has been doing to any sleeping vampires he has come across. Fleeing the house and running into a church, Robert is pursued and fatally wounded. Spitting venom and insults at the vampires, Robert crumples on the steps to the pulpit and dies as Ruth looks on. The church begins to fill with worshipers as Ruth walks out. She comforts a crying child saying that there is nothing to be afraid of anymore, and then the film fades to black. 

What went wrong

To preface my oncoming analysis of The Last Man on Earth, I wholeheartedly believe that a movie adaptation of a book is not obligated to be a carbon copy of its source material. Movies such as Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) and The Most Dangerous Game (1932) prove this well, both of which were wonderful films even though the creators took liberties with the characters, scenes, and atmosphere of the literature they were based on. That being said, given what the writers of Last Man chose to keep from Matheson's novel and what they chose to tweak, the movie just doesn't come across as raw, desperate and angry as it should be. The blame lies primarily in the music, and as much as it pains me to say this, in the casting of Vincent Price as Robert Morgan.

Upon hearing the opening trills of the music, heralding the credits to begin rolling onto the screen, I felt something was wrong. The music blares loudly over the words with a cliché cacophony of horns and violin before switching to a melodramatic lilting tune, then back to clashing force full of a powerful energy completely at odds with the fragile looking, depressed Vincent Price mulling around his boarded up home. The musical scoring doesn't get any better from there. At times when the audience is supposed to feel the tedium of Robert Morgan's existence there is music that makes you feel as if his daily routine is full of exciting danger. In actuality it is full of mundane horror as he forces himself awake day after day with only the acts of eating, repairing his home, and exterminating the sleeping vampires (men and women alike) to keep his mind occupied.

Most insultingly the entrance of Franca Bettoia's character brings with it a strange romantic subplot that seems to come out of the blue with little buildup and conflicting sincerity. The interplay between Price and Bettoia takes on a very jarring fast succession of shoulder shaking, menacing staring, hysterics and hugging. During all of this the score flips wildly between lovely crescendos and stricken horns blares and drum rolls to show betrayal and hurt. It's reminiscent of the sweeping operatic film scoring common of old horror films from Universal Pictures, but feels very out of date for a modern movie that is supposed to be seething with barely repressed despair and scant few moments of actual hope.

Finally, the visual reason the film fails to emote properly comes to rest on the unfortunately sub-par performance of Vincent Price. For a character who is fast coming to believe that he is the last uninfected human on Earth, Price plays the role of Robert Morgan with too much restraint. Robert Morgan is a man with a young family taken by the plague and who lived to see his wife and neighbors come after him from beyond the grave. Such a character should be deeply shaken and depressed as he goes through his remaining days with monotony and acceptance of a life alongside the undead.

Price, however, carries himself like someone who is physically fragile and emotionally cold. His rounded back and stiff-armed walk speak of a man afraid he might break a bone if he moves with more than a shuffle, as opposed to a barely middle-aged man with a heavy burden on his shoulders but a determination to survive. His emotional connection to the other characters in the story seems very distant as well. One could argue that this was a fault of the script, but when the audience sees him chasing the van carrying his still living daughter to the plague pit to be burned, Price is turned away from her body with little effort. He barely struggles at all, and walks away in a daze too easily for a man supposed to be a hysterical, grieving father.

At one point in the story Price's character encounters a ragged dog out in the daylight. His disappointment at learning that a wounded animal he brings home with him is infected is minimal, and in the next scene we see him burying a small bundle with a stake in it. There is little remorse in his posture or expression, even though he is burying the first living creature he has had contact with in three years (before he meets Ruth). Vincent Price just can't do desperation. He can emote long suffering sadness well as is evident in the scene when he visits his wife's tomb and when he is watching home movies and begins to laugh before breaking down into tears, but he just can't seem to nail down what it must be like for a character as raw, desperate and hungry for social contact as Robert Morgan.

The verdict

Sadly, this particular movie is only worthy of a two and a half star rating.

In terms of its competence as a whole, The Last Man on Earth is a solid enough science-fiction/horror movie from directors Sidney Salkow and Ubaldo Ragona, and will likely please the casual movie goer looking for a darker story. But given the material it had to work with in I Am Legend, the movie feels flat. Some films are better when you have read the novel beforehand, but this is not one of them. For those who are die hard fans of Vincent Price I would also avoid seeing this movie as it is hardly his best performance. Instead save your money for the upcoming Roger Corman film The Mask of the Red Death in June.

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!  Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Movies

[February 25, 1964] From the Sublime to the Ridiculous (Castle of Blood and The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Now that February has much of the Northern Hemisphere in the grip of winter, it's a good time to escape the cold and seek out a different kind of chill.  Head out to your local movie theater or drive-in (bring a blanket) and watch a good horror movie.  Or at least a horror movie.  Not all of them are good.

Two that I recently sat through represent the apex and the nadir of the genre.  Well, that's a bit of exaggeration.  The good one isn't that good.  It's hardly in the same class as, say, last year's The Haunting, which is a modern classic.  But it's worth watching, so let's take a look.

Castle of Blood: Barbara Steele and the Italian Gothic Horror Film

The history of Italian fright films of the modern era begins with I Vampiri (1957).  It was not until the 1960 release of La maschera del demonio, known in the English-speaking world as Black Sunday, however, that anyone sat up and took notice.  The international success of this gruesome shocker launched the careers of director Mario Bava and star Barbara Steele.

Steele is a British actress of unusual beauty.  Her striking features can suggest innocence or evil.


Innocence


Evil!

After Black Sunday, Steele went on to haunt audiences in Roger Corman's Pit and the Pendulum.  She then returned to Italy, specializing in scary movies.  (But not always.  You may have caught her in Frederico Fellini's 8½.) These include The Horrible Dr. Hichcock and The Ghost.  Her latest terrifying feature is Castle of Blood.

Known in its native land as Danza Macabra, the film begins with an English journalist interviewing Edgar Allan Poe in a tavern.  (By the way, the ghastly anecdote our fictional Poe relates here is clearly based on his 1835 short story, Berenice.) The skeptical reporter denies that Poe's accounts are real.  An aristocrat bets that the journalist cannot spend a full night in his ancestral home on All Souls' Day.  The journalist accepts the wager, and the terror begins.


Poe tells his story

At first, things don't seem too bad.  Barbara Steele shows up as the aristocrat's lovely sister, and the two quickly become lovers.  Another woman living in the castle tries to come between them.  A man of science is also present.  He explains some of the weird things that happen, but they remain mysterious.  The journalist meets his fate in an ironic ending.


The hero and his new girlfriend


A particularly spooky scene

Although slow at times, the film is eerie and compelling.  The black-and-white cinematography is moody and atmospheric.

Four stars.

The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies: The Weird World of Z Movies


Sometimes considered the ultimate example of the Z movie

The term Z movie has recently come into use, referring to films, generally of poor quality, with extremely low budgets.  Many of these are labors of love, made independently outside the usual Hollywood system.  A lot of them are science fiction and horror movies.  Examples abound, from Robot Monster (1953) to Teenagers from Outer Space (1959), previously reviewed by our host.

A relatively new name in this dubious field is Ray Dennis Steckler.  A couple of years ago, he directed Wild Guitar, one of a handful of films that Arch Hall Sr. produced as vehicles for his son, Arch Hall Jr.  Now Steckler has made a movie for himself, going so far as to star in it under the outrageous pseudonym Cash Flagg.


And he's married to second-billed Carolyn Brandt

So what do we get if we dare to watch this movie?  Well, not much.


Our director, producer, and star

Steckler (or Flagg) shows up at a carnival with some other folks.  He gets mixed up with a fortune teller who hypnotizes him and sends him out to kill people. 


"I see that you will all soon star in a very bad movie."

That's about it, although we do get some guys near the end of the film with faces scarred by acid.  I suppose these are the title characters.


"Hi.  I'm an incredibly strange creature . . . Oh, you know the rest."

We also get lots of dance sequences, starring Carolyn Brandt.


A little something for the leg men in the audience

Credit where credit is due.  The color cinematography is actually pretty good.  Somehow this makes the movie's failings stand out even more.  I'd suggest bringing a group of friends with you to make fun of it.

One star.

Until next time, see you at the movies!


Coming soon!

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Movies

[February 15, 1964] Flaws in the seventh facet (Seven Days in May)

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by Janice L. Newman

Seven Days in May premiered three nights ago!  My husband and I made sure to get to the theater early, as we wanted to claim good seats for this star-studded and much anticipated political drama.  Given the amount of talent assembled both in front of and behind the camera, there was no way the film would be a disaster.  At the same time, Seven Days in May wasn’t quite an unmitigated success.  The film is a flawed jewel, the minor imperfections standing out all the more so against the clarity and glitter of an otherwise perfect gem.

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Book, Magazine/Anthology, Movies

[February 1, 1964] The Vast Wasteland (February 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Every Silver Lining has a Cloud

What an exciting month January was!  From President Johnson's declaration of war on poverty to the launching of the Ranger 6 moon mission, not to mention this week's premiere of the amazing satire/horror, Dr. Strangelove, this year is shaping up to be a good one.

But while real life and the silver screen may offer superlative pleasures, this month's written sf , at least on this side of the Pond, has been rather lackluster.  This month's Analog is no exception.  In fact, it rests near the bottom of the pack.  That said, it's not a complete loss — so long as you know what you're getting into:

The Issue at Hand

Secondary Meterorites (Part 2 of 2), by Ralph A. Hall, M.D.

Dr. Hall returns to tell us more about the hypothesis that the majority of meteors that hit our planet are actually pieces of other planets knocked off when they were hit by meteorites.  It is, if anything, less comprehensible than the last article.  And that's coming from a fellow who studied astrophysics in college and reads journal articles for fun.

One star.

The Permanent Implosion, by Dean McLaughlin

When a bunch of Colorado eggheads blow a hole in the fabric of the universe, all of Earth's air starts whistling to nowhere like water draining from a bathtub.  Mick Candido, an oilman with a talent for capping blown and burning wells, is called in to plug the hole.

This is a smartly written tale whose obvious solution is obscured by deft authorial misdirection.  It's not a story for the ages, but it's solid Analog fare.  Three stars.

Crackpots, Inc., by Richard L. Davis

On the other hand, Crackpots is uniquely Analog fare.  A rural hayseed has purportedly invented perpetual motion, but his feat cannot be duplicated by scientists.  Turns out, it's because the machine is powered by the hick's psychic energies.  The only way this piece could have been more to Campbell's taste is if it included dowsing.

One star.

Dune World (Part 3 of 3), by Frank Herbert

I'm going to spare some inches for this one since I know this has been a popular serial.  In the far future, humanity has spread out among the stars.  Civilization is a strange mix of the advanced and the primitive. There are faster-than-light ships, electro-magnetic shields, and laser guns, On the other hand, computers are outlawed, with savant "Mentats" filling the role.  Society runs along feudal lines, its politics Machiavellian to the extreme.  To wit:

Baron Harkonnen, lord of the desert planet, Arrakis, is ordered by the Padishah Emperor to give his fief to Duke Leto Atreides.  On the face of things, this is a boon.  Arrakis is the only source of the anti-geriatic spice melange, control of which makes one very rich.  However, the transfer is a baited trap.  Not only is a legion of the Emperor's troops poised to seize the fief should Leto stumble, but one of Leto's lieutenants is a traitor in the pay of Harkonnen.

Added to the mix: Leto's mistress, Lady Jessica, member of the female-only Bene Gesserit order, who has keen perception and the ability to control others with her voice.  Her son, Paul, who may be the satisfaction of a prophecy that predicts a male possessor of Bene Gesserit powers.  The "Fremen" natives of Arrakis appear to be primitives yet there is evidence that suggests they possess a great technology.  Finally, we have Kynes, an Imperial surveyor who seems to know the secrets of Arrakis but refuses to play his hand openly.

Not much happens in Dune World.  There are lots of conversations where people reveal the history of Arrakis.  There is an attempt on Paul's life.  Leto saves some spice miners from a sandworm.  There is a feast in the Atreides stronghold with more exposition.  The traitor's plan comes to fruition, with the Duke put in mortal peril and his family forced into exile.  There is no real resolution; I suspect Herbert plans a sequel.

Author Herbert has an intricate grand plan, and he's certainly not stinted on world building.  The various cultures are richly detailed.  There is a refreshing abundance of foreign language and concepts, particularly from Arabic.  What keeps Dune World from being a masterpiece, or even especially enjoyable, is that Herbert's writing chops just aren't up to turning this byzantine mess of a plot into a story.  There are more swaths of italicized text than in the footnotes of a legal contract, and the viewpoint shifts constantly, often every other sentence.  A typical example from page 49:


"Now I know you remain loyal to my Duke," she said.  "Therefore I'm prepared to forgive your affront to me."

"Is there something to forgive? he asked.

Jessica scowled, wondering, Shall I play my trump?  Shall I tell him of the Duke's daughter I've carried within me these two weeks?  No, Leto himself doesn't know and this would only complicate his life, divert him when he must concentrate on our survival.  There is yet time to use this.

And Hawat thought: She's even beautiful when she's angry.  An extremely difficult adversary.

The traitor is revealed early on; the mystery is why he's betrayed Duke Leto.  That said, the identity of the betrayer could have been handled as a double mystery, which would have been more interesting. 

At serial's end, Paul has a soothsaying dream and learns several secrets of Arrakis and spice.  It's all very arbitrary and unsatisfying. 

Herbert has created something like a well researched but dry encyclopedia article on a fascinating topic.  I wanted to know more about Arrakis and Paul's prophecy, but getting through the (half) novel was often a slog. 

Maybe a good editor will help Herbert polish this up before its inevitable publication as a book.

Three stars for this installment and for the book as a whole.

Rx for Chaos, by Christopher Anvil

Another entry in the "Unintended Consequences of Science" department: Hangover-killing "De-tox" pills become bestsellers, but they also inhibit creativity and give rise to a fascist, anti-intellectual movement.  It's typical Analog Anvil, written with tongue firmly lodged in cheek.  It rates three stars, barely.

Names for Space Plants, by John Becker

Lots of words in these three short pages, but I've no idea what Becker is actually trying to say.  One star.

The Analytic Laboratory

Add it all up, and Analog scores a limp 2.1 stars, only beaten for badness by this month's Amazing (2 stars even).  F&SF is barely better at 2.2; Fantastic gets 2.6 but at least it's got a good Dick in it.  Galaxy's 3 stars is also, in part, thanks to its Dick story.  The only unalloyed triumph is the February New Worlds, which garnered 3.6 stars.

Women made up just two of the 38 authors who wrote fiction for magazines this month. 

As for books, again, it was the British stuff that stood out.  Brian Aldiss' new fix-up got four stars, per Jason Sacks, whereas neither this month's Ace Double nor Laurence Janifer's second effort stunned.

Next month is my birthday month, though, and I'm certain the writers in my favorite genre wouldn't let me down on my 39th birthday.

Right?

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[January 30, 1964] Satire or Documentary?  (Stanley Kubrik's Dr. Strangelove)

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by Rosemary Benton

The Thin Line between Comedy and Terror

The newest movie by maverick filmmaker Stanley Kubrick, known for Spartacus (1960) and Lolita (1962), has hit theaters to the delight of film critics and the apprehensive joy of moviegoers. Behold the masterpiece which is Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb and be amazed. Never before has a movie been so utterly terrifying, and yet so funny. It was a film that had the audience sitting on the edge of their seats, giddily laughing with nervous energy. For a film with so few action sequences, the story is absolutely riveting. I was completely captivated, and based on the reactions I witnessed from my fellow movie goers they too felt the simultaneous deep unease and dark humor just as intensely.

The plot of Dr. Strangelove is loosely based on the 1958 thriller novel by Peter George, Red Alert. Both the book and the film describe a situation that could be considered as far from comical as possible: the initiation of a nuclear attack on the Soviets by a rogue United States Air Force general. In Kubrick's film the logic of this loose cannon, named Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper (played by Sterling Hayden), is that Communists have made the “bodily fluids" of Americans impure by fluoridation. By his reasoning this has already counted as a preemptive strike: fluoridation has rendered politicians including President Merkin Muffley (played by Peter Sellers), impotent and incapable of proper leadership.

Meanwhile in the War Room of the Pentagon the situation continues to escalate as President Muffley consults with his military counsel General Buck Turgidson (played by George C. Scott), and the Soviet Ambassador Alexei de Sadeski (played by Peter Bull). Eventually it is concluded that the Soviet Premier, Dimitri Kissov, must be informed of the situation and given the deployed bomber squadron's flight path. The situation couldn't be more dire — until the Ambassador then imparts to the room that the Premier has just made him aware of a doomsday device that has been built in secret and was to be unveiled within the week. If the American bombs are not stopped in time, a network of interlinked Soviet bombs enhanced with “cobalt-thorium G" will trigger and the Earth will be shrouded in a “Doomsday shroud," killing all human and animal life. Worse yet, there is no way to deactivate the doomsday device without triggering it. A precaution that was taken to avoid human error.

After managing to secure the recall code from General Ripper all bombers but one are recalled. Due to damage to the plane's radio and fuel tanks sustained when the Soviets launched a surface-to-air missile to intercept the B-52 Stratofortress carrying the payload, the pilot and crew are unable to communicate with the American forces, nor are they able to fly back. At the order of the bomber's commander and pilot, Major T. J. "King" Kong (played by Slim Pickens), the crew decides to fly onward to a nearer target knowing that it will be a one way flight. In perhaps the most memorable scene on the film, Major Kong jumps on the back of the bomb and rides it down to a Soviet ICBM site whereupon it explodes.

Back in the War Room the attendants have begun to consider how they will survive the coming 93 years of darkness. Dr. Strangelove (also played by Peter Sellers), the wheelchair bound, ex-Nazi, nuclear war expert in the employ of President Muffley advises that a small population of several thousand should take up residence in deep mine shafts so as to repopulate the Earth. To that end there should be a 10:1 ratio of women to men. Comically, despite the reality of planning for the end of the world, General Turgidson is very concerned that the Soviets will think of the same thing and warns against a “mine shaft" gap. As the arguing and planning escalates in volume the Soviet Ambassador slips a discreet shot of the War Room with a hidden camera and slinks away. The movie ends to the dulcet serenade of “We'll Meet Again" as nuclear blasts go off one by one.

Too Close to Home

These last two decades, indeed the last three years, have brought the continued struggle between the USSR and America, between Capitalist and Communists, Democracy and Dictatorship, to the average American's door on a daily basis in the news, in magazine articles, and through social organizations such as the local Civil Defense officers conducting surveys of urban preparedness. The fear has been stoked that the international war of ideology, trade and survival could come to us civilians very literally in the form of a coordinated nuclear attack.

The Federal Civil Defense Act of 1950, initially designed to guide civilian preparedness in a series of committees from the federal level all the way down to the community level, found little traction with the general public in its day. Recently, however, given the Soviet military buildup in Cuba, the use of fallout shelters has come back into the public's eye. But science has far surpassed the weapons of over ten years ago, and one must wonder how useful the leftover pamphlets on nuclear survival from 1951 will be to the American citizen today.

In a general sense any nation's international policy making has consistently been about the division of land and wealth, with the extraction of natural resources and the mobilization of man power either resulting in economic success or failure. On top of the core responsibility of leaders to ensure their country's economic success are layers and layers of rhetoric to justify the means to this end. But only recently has that rhetoric reached a dangerous pinnacle on which both sides consider the virtual hostage taking of millions of civilian lives to be a worthy deterrent to foreign challenges that could come from halfway across the globe.

Being in a competition of military prowess has unfortunately resulted in inflammatory saber rattling in a long line of US presidents. From President Truman's 30 November, 1950 refusal to rule out the use of nuclear weapons to halt Communist advances after Chinese troops crossed the Yalu River to aid North Korea, to President Kennedy's repeated call to close the missile gap during his 1960 election campaign. Ultimately the natural escalation of “anything your bomb can do, mine can do better" has seemed to end in a standoff. Hence the development of unsettling strategic theories such as MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction). 

The Satire Bites Deep

The writing, cinematography and special effects of Dr. Strangelove are ingenious, but more than anything I have to comment that this is a profoundly dark satirical film. Not only does the plot highlight the precarious position that current world leaders and their military advisors have found themselves in since the fracturing of the Allied forces after 1945, but it highlights the very real and very frightening attitudes that have come to encompass the policy making of modern superpowers at home and abroad.

Co-writers Stanley Kubrick, Peter George and Terry Southern really understood this last point, and put it front and center within Dr. Strangelove's satire. General Turgidson's excitement at the destructive capabilities of the B-52 Stratofortress borders on buffoonish megalomania. His enthusiasm and envy when he says that he wishes the US too had a doomsday device like the one the Soviets have concocted is astounding given the situation. It is horrific that General Turgidson considers the launching of an all out attack an acceptable plan of action considering the “modest and acceptable" civilian casualties of 10-20 million lives “depending on the breaks". Most importantly, the film masterfully picks apart the lunacy of having to have a post-apocalyptic plan in the first place.

Indeed, everything about Dr. Strangelove’s indignant rebuke to the Russian ambassador feels as if it were lifted from an exchange between Herman Kahn, the RAND corporation’s renowned military strategist, and a chastened government official. “The whole point of the doomsday machine is lost, if you keep it a secret. Why didn't you tell the world, eh?!" Ambassador Sadeski replies, “It was to be announced at the Party Congress on Monday. As you know, the Premier loves surprises."

In the skillful hands of such an intrepid writing team the catalyst of the whole nuclear attack comes into question: is such a scenario so far off? Yes, Brigadier General Ripper is clearly insane to believe that Communists would plan an attack on “bodily fluids" by putting fluoride in the drinking water, but if the military personnel who hold the power to initiate a nuclear attack were unstable but methodical, would such a cascade of fail safes work against us as they did in the film? And if worse came to worst, would our leaders be able to accept the figurative and literal fallout with the same calm equanimity as the assembly in the war room did? If mine shafts would make such excellent hibernation holdouts for humanity, as Dr. Strangelove hypothesized, would the public even be made aware for fear of a mine shaft shortage?

For the answer to such questions I would highly recommend that everyone see this film, watch the evening news for a week, and come to their own conclusions. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is an exceptionally cutting and cheeky movie, and I happily give it five stars.




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[December 25, 1963] Animating an Epic (Don Chaffey's Jason and the Argonauts)

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by Rosemary Benton

[Time is running out to get your Worldcon membership!  Register here to be able to vote for the Hugos.]

Merry Christmas, everyone!

With the United States still reeling from recent events, I feel that now more than even would be the appropriate time to reflect on the past months and be grateful for the artistic talents and accomplishments that have helped bring us joy even in dark times. To that end I would like to say thank you to authors Andre Norton, J. G. Ballard and Daniel F. Galouye for their respective works of high fantasy, speculative fiction and intense science fiction/horror over the year. In film, actors Vincent Price and Julie Harris, as well as director Ishirō Honda, brought audiences horror tales both comical and macabre.

In the spirit of appreciation for the hard working men and women who bring the world its entertainment there is also one film which has been sadly overlooked this past June which I will now heap well deserved praise upon. I am speaking, of course, of Jason and the Argonauts.

Directed by Walt Disney Productions veteran Don Chaffey, and starring the wonderful acting talent of Honor Blackman and Nancy Kovack, Jason and the Argonauts is a fairly faithful adaptation of the Greek hero Jason's quest to acquire the mythical Golden Fleece and rightfully ascend to the throne of Thessaly. Through the artistic majesty of stop-motion animation and the craftiness of experienced low-budget filmmaking, Jason's eye-popping adventures through the ancient Greek world of monsters, prophecy, magic and gods come to life like they never have before. 

On the eve of the sacking of Thessaly, the antagonist Pelias (played by Douglas Wilmer) asks a prophet if Zeus has willed his victory against King Aristo. The prophet confirms that he will indeed be victorious, but as Pelias is about to lay down his sword to show faith in the prediction and his dedication to Zeus, the prophet informs him that King Aristo is not without heirs to the throne. Pelias snatches back his sword and declares that he will kill all of the royal family. In doing so not only does he falter in his faith to the gods, but goes too far when he hunts down and murders Aristo's daughter Briseis as she is praying for protection from the goddess, Hera (played by Honor Blackman). Due to his overzealousness, Pelias is told by Hera, disguised as the temple's priestess, that the infant Jason has been taken into hiding and will one day return to kill him.

The scene then cuts to Olympus where Zeus (played by Niial MacGinnis) is watching the battle through a fountain. Hera returns to bargain with Zeus for her right to seek restitutions against Pelias for the defamation of her temple. Zeus acquiesces, but only permits Hera to directly aid Jason five times for the five times that Briseis called out to Hera by name. Thus the stage is set for the inevitable reunion 20 years later between King Pelias of Thessaly and the vengeful, adult Jason (played by Todd Armstrong).

Through perseverance in daring battles against a giant living statue, harpies, a hydra and undead soldiers, along with luck granted by his heavenly protector, Jason and his crew aboard the ship Argo ultimately claim ownership of a legendary and powerful artifact: the Golden Fleece. With this in hand, he intends to return home and show that it is his divine right to rule Thessaly.

That, however, is a story for another time. The movie ends before Jason is able to retake the kingship from Pelias. After defeating seven skeleton warriors sown by King Aeëtes of Colchis (played by Jack Gwillim) using the teeth of the defeated hydra, the remaining Argonauts and the sorceress Medea set out to sea once more. The film concludes with Zeus and Hera determining that their meddling in the mortal lives of their champions is not yet over and that they may yet have further plans for Jason. 

Despite an ending that just begs for a sequel in order to finish off Jason's initial quest to kill Pelias, the film as a whole is very, very well executed. Jason and the Argonauts is a masterpiece in special effects, atmospheric musical scoring, and well paced storytelling (in spite of the choice to not conclude the film back in Thessaly). A review from Variety magazine rightfully expresses awe at the resourcefulness of Don Chaffey, making note of the fact that not only did the film showcase the pinnacle of stop-motion animator Ray Harryhausen's craft, but managed to stretch its meager 3 million dollar budget to include a life size replica of the Argo!

Not only is Jason and the Argonauts a prized piece of art from Morningside Productions and Columbia Pictures, but it also stands as a proud member of a newly emerging genre within science-fiction and fantasy stories. More accurately, it is a tour de force within the hotly debated and evolving subgenre of "sword and sorcery" (as defined within the magazine Amra by Fritz Leiber and Michael Moorcock). What seems to be paramount to this subgenre includes the following:

World building elements of medieval and/or ancient technology enhanced with paranormal and borderline science-fiction elements.

Jason and the Argonauts has those aplenty from talking statues, gods who can teleport or grow at will, and golden ram's wool that can revive the dead. The power behind such miracles is only loosely defined as "the will of the gods", but there is a quasi-scientific ritual or pattern that brings these miracles to pass. IE to speak with Hera and receive her advice Jason must talk to the figurehead of the Argo, or to revive someone with the Golden Fleece the pelt must first be placed on the subject and then prayed over. 

and,

Developed substantial characters whose vendettas move the plot forward one personal battle at a time.

Consider the plight of Jason, rightful heir to the throne of Thessaly, and even the minor character King Phineus who was once blessed by the gods but is now cursed due to hubris. Rather than focusing on merely the politics of governance and other widespread or far reaching changes to the world, the story of Jason and the Argonauts is wrapped up entirely in the mission of only a few people. It is epic, but surprisingly small and human in a way. The entire human race isn't learning the same lessons as Jason by partaking in the quest for the Fleece with him, but we do learn as an audience when listen to the retelling of his story.

When held up against other "sword and sorcery" titled such as Robert E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian series, C. L. Moore's Black God's Kiss and to an extent Andre Norton's Witch World, Jason and the Argonauts seems right at home. It will be interesting to see how the addition of this highly entertaining and memorable movie evolves the genre to which it belongs. In terms of the creative team behind the film, I find it hard to think of how the special effects techniques will continue to improve after reaching such perfection, but I have faith in Ray Harryhausen and hope that he can continue to find funding and future feature length partnerships in the film industry.

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[September 21, 1963] Old Horror and Modern Women (Robert Wise's The Haunting)

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by Rosemary Benton

When I read that there was to be a film adaptation of Shirley Jackson's 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House I was over the moon. In this time of character driven thrillers blasting onto the silver screen thanks to Alfred Hitchcock and Orson Welles, I was excited yet apprehensive to have one of my favorite author's books translated into a film script. Upon learning that the talent of Robert Wise, director of The Day the Earth Stood Still and West Side Story, was going to be attached to the project I felt I could rest easy. Now that I have seen the end result I confidently predict that this movie will be remembered for the horror genre treasure that it is! Simply put, Robert Wise's The Haunting pays homage to its predecessors of gothic horror, yet breaks new ground in what has been an increasingly campy genre.

Like many horror movies before it, The Haunting sticks with the tried and true premise of a group of persons trying to maintain their grip on reality as they weather several nights in an allegedly cursed manor. Ultimately one of them snaps, but whether or not it was a mental breakdown due to desperation or supernatural forces remains the crux of the mystery. In the case of The Haunting, anthropologist Dr. John Markway leads a group of volunteers through an experiment to instigate supernatural events within the old Hill House estate for the sake of scientific discovery. They attempt to endure the terror of ghosts hauntings, cryptic messages scrawled on the walls, and subtle poltergeist events. Some more successfully than others.

If Robert Wise had left The Haunting with just these bare essentials the whole experience would have been simply average. Thankfully he and the screenplay adaptor, Nelson Gidding, did not settle for something so mundane.

Everything about The Haunting speaks to the clash of modernity versus old beliefs. All aspects of the story incorporate this battle in some way. Perhaps most blatantly we have Luke Sanderson (Russ Tamblyn), the college-boy heir to Hill House who is determined not to be put off by the house's colorful past. Stubbornly flippant and skeptical, we see that Luke is still deeply unnerved by the progressively frightening hauntings, yet unwilling to abandon the hope of turning the house into financial profit.

Richard Johnson's character Dr. John Markway holds the role of leader within the small group staying at Hill House. In speaking with Eleanor "Nell" Lance (Julie Harris) he admits that he rebelled against the idea of becoming "a practical man" like his lawyer father, instead choosing to study anthropology in combination with his long held interest in ghosts. It is his hope to further his understanding of spiritual powers by finding a logic to hauntings – to put a scientific understanding of spirituality in line with human evolution both past and future. Dr. Markway never lets go of his belief that scientific theory can be applied to Hill House, even at the end. But he does come away from the experience with a healthier respect for the forces he is toying with.

And then there is Claire Bloom's character Theodora aka "Theo". "Theo" is an enigma of a person, both guarded yet warm, and possessing either a mastery of cold reading or powerful psychic abilities. She fills the group's role of the femme fatale, and by all genre traditions should be the corrupting influence of the party who leads the men astray with her fashionable beauty and strong will. Yet Theo is not given a romantic role with either Luke or Dr. Markway. Indeed, she seems indifferent to them in an aloof, but not snide, way. Her sexuality is nonexistent, and other than regularly embracing and comforting Eleanor (who enthusiastically returns the gestures and seeks out Theo on her own at all hours of the day and night) she does not physically interact with any other character. It is also revealed that she is an independent, insightful woman who lives in her own apartment and does not have a boyfriend.

Theo is well aware of her disquieting insightfulness. Though she presents herself as confident, even indifferent, she is sensitive to how the others perceive her. She is especially hurt when Eleanor tells her that she is a "mistake of nature". Although it is implied that this could simply refer to her psychic abilities, the comradery and tension that exists in their friendship especially with regard to Eleanor’s growing friendliness toward Dr. Markway, would lead the audience to make other conclusions. Yet she continues to try to help Eleanor from hurting herself. As an implied lesbian character she is refreshingly not predatory nor joyfully cruel. She is a modern woman of many layers, and a very different queer character from other popular cultural representations that are circulating via pulp novels, comics, television and movies.

Which brings me to Eleanor Lance. Like everyone else she is a mess of mixed messages, although her story is particularly heartbreaking. Unlike the independent and powerful Theo, Nell is a frightening portrayal of what subjugation under the traditional roles of a woman can do to a person. Emotionally fragile due to a lifetime of societal isolation by her controlling mother and judgmental sister, Julie Harris' fascinatingly fills both the roles of the spinster and the romantic lead. After her mother passes and she no longer needs to serve as her caretaker, Nell is clearly left without a purpose and resented for it. She's so desperate for a shred of independence that she steals the family car knowing full well that it will mean she is no longer welcome at her sister's house. She is so starved for human connection that she simpers right up to the strangers she meets at Hill House, even though her deep rooted insecurity causes her to constantly question their dedication to looking out for her.

Nell's desire for deeper affection and understanding causes her to fall in love with the bright future Dr. Markway represents. But when she finds out he is married and is determined to "save her" by sending her away from Hill House, her mental breakdown becomes complete. If she can't find love with people, then she reasons her destiny must be with the house – to be there for it to love, to need, and to keep close. All of this culminates in the evil of the house claiming her for itself and adding her to the many tragedies it has already collected. Perhaps most heartbreaking of all is the audience's understanding that Nell never really had a chance in the first place, and will only be truly remembered as more than a passing thought by her friend Theo.

From a film theory perspective The Haunting is a daring, modern reinvention of the classic gothic thrillers which propelled Universal Studios to horror stardom in the 20s-40s, and Hammer Film Productions in the 50s. The film features a cast of classic horror film archetypes: a sheltered young woman whose romance we follow through the film, a femme fatale, a dapper and worldly man of reason, and a snide fool with more money than sense.

The set of the film is even faithful to the tastes of earlier horror films complete with a brooding Neo Gothic mansion decorated in opulent Rococo fit for any villainous monster or malevolent spirit. Even the story setup has resonances of earlier horror stories. In particular I would point to the paranormal investigation story thread that leads our cast of eclectic persons to gather at Hill House. We see a similar beginning in William Castle's film House on Haunted Hill (1959) and Roger Corman's House of Usher (1960), both of which likewise feature the examination of a cursed property and the doomed people within it.

But in this cornucopia of tributes to the haunted house subgenre and gothic horror in general, there is a subversiveness that is absolutely thrilling. The Haunting restlessly vibrates with a need to break away from the obvious tricks of the genre to which it belongs and create something new, and I believe that by the end of the film it does just that. Unfortunately, it seems that initial reception of the film is not wholeheartedly in agreement with me.

So far The Haunting has been received with subdued enthusiasm. Bosley Crowther of The New York Times, bemoaned the fact that the atmospheric, antique setting and chilling near-misses of Julie Harris barely kept the film afloat. Crowther concluded that the The Haunting, "makes more goose pimples than sense", and doesn't work to its gothic strengths by falling back on more classic horror moments. 1 Crowther, Bosley. "The Screen: An Old-Fashioned Chiller: Julie Harris and Claire Bloom in 'Haunting'." The New York Times [New York] 19 Sep.1963: Print.    

What seems to be the most obvious missed point about such criticism is that The Haunting is not a period piece, and that a gothic setting does not come with an obligation to conform to the now cliché horror cinematography/story structure/character arcs of other haunted house stories. And really, how would doing so play better for the audience? Yes, it would give them something more familiar, but in horror unpredictability makes for a far more memorable experience. I award five stars to this atmospheric and challenging film.

[September 21, 1963] Old Horror and Modern Women (Robert Wise's The Haunting)

1963, horror, film, Rosemary Benton, Robert Wise, haunted house, The Haunting, The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson
   

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[September 19, 1963] Out of Sight (The Man with the X-Ray Eyes)

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by Lorelei Marcus

When a new science fiction movie comes out for me to review, my father usually proposes it as, “There's a new movie to watch.” This means I go in blind with nothing but the title and a few actors' names to fill me in on what to expect. What I hope for is a movie so horrendously bad I can laugh my way through and then write an easy article with a comedic spin about how terrible it was. What I often get is a mediocre movie that leaves me feeling like I could’ve spent my time in better ways, but gives me easy enough content to fill my articles with.

However, once in a while I get a very good movie that makes me think and is enjoyable all the way through. In this case our diamond in the rough is The Man With the X-Ray Eyes, a movie so good that, as I sat down I was left at a loss for words. See, I was ecstatic to have witnessed such a great movie, but that also meant I was going to have to write a great article to go with it. A movie with this complex a story is not an easy beast to tackle, but that won’t stop me from trying!

Our movie follows Dr. Xavier as he develops (and like any good doctor, tests on himself) a serum that will allow him to enhance his eyesight. At first the serum seems to have simple x-ray effects, removing clothes, looking through walls, etc., but that's only the beginning. He uses his new-found powers to operate on a little girl, saving her life. However, the serum is also potentially dangerous; in one scene, he tests the serum on a monkey (a scene that caused both me and my dad to shout ‘Konga!’), and the animal dies immediately after taking a large dose.

I won't say any more because frankly, this movie threw me and my father for a loop with how simply unpredictable it was! We were expecting the classic plot of “Man gets power that eventually drives him crazy and turns him into a monster,” but this movie is anything but. Nearly every moment had us guessing what would happen next. The story was truly something new and refreshing that took the cliché of x-ray vision down a new intriguing path.

This movie is especially impressive considering the budget wasn't super large. Like Panic! In Year Zero (Another movie starring Ray Milland) it made up for what it lacked in effects with provocative storytelling instead. That’s not to say the special effects were bad, though I did find it tiring when they kept showing the “x-ray vision” — basically a glorified kaleidoscope filter. The most effective effect, I'd say, was when we got to see a room of people doing the twist — naked! It was the one time it truly felt like we were seeing the world through x-ray vision.

The linchpin that made this movie so great was definitely the characters and the actors portraying them. Ray Milland gave an excellent performance, as always, and played a convincing balance of under stress but not quite crazy. Don Rickles effectively played a corrupt circus worker (especially interesting considering he’s known for his Vegas Comedy act).

Finally, Diana Van der Vlis plays Doctor Diane Fairfax, one of the best characters in the movie. It was incredibly refreshing to see a strong , intelligent woman played as something much more than a simple love interest, in fact, she’s Xavier’s boss! Doctor Fairfax was a complex character who was critical to the story and very enjoyable to watch: I hope other movies feature similar characters.

In sum, this movie has a deep and compelling plot, potent special effects, and fantastic acting. It was a roller coaster of an experience, keeping me and my dad on the edges of our seats the entire time. A solid film, deserving of four out of five stars. I would recommend you watch this and try to predict the end. I'd love to hear responses of how far off your predictions get!

This is the Young Traveler, signing off.




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