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[November 10, 1961] EARTH ON FIRE (UK Sci-fi Report)

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By Ashley R. Pollard

Last month, I wrote about the shocking explosion of the world’s largest atomic bomb.  Now, I plan to entertain and delight you all with a review of the film The Day the Earth Caught Fire, which will be on general release in Great Britain from the 23rd of November.  Its subject matter is serendipitous, if not unnaturally timely, cast in the light of recent events.  This can’t hurt its chances of doing well at the box office, and if you'll pardon the levity, it’s surely guaranteed to become a blockbuster.  This early review has been made possible by influence of the Traveller, who has gone to great lengths in assisting me with gaining the credentials to see a pre-release screening of the film. 

The Day the Earth Caught Fire stars Edward Judd, Leo McKern and Janet Munro and starts in a most striking manner with Judd’s character walking in sweltering heat through the deserted streets of London.  The story then flashes back to how it all began when both the Americans and Russian simultaneously exploded atomic bombs at the Earth’s poles.  This caused both the axial tilt to change and also shifted our planet in its orbit around the Sun.

The effects of the axial tilt mean disruption to the regular weather: torrential rain and floods for example.  It’s only later we find out that the Earth has also been pushed closer to the Sun, which means the planet will soon become too hot for human life.  Unlike other nuclear horror stories, the emphasis here is on the hero discovering what is happening by putting together the bits of the puzzle, using his skill as a Fleet Street journalist to tell the story.  The way the film is shot has an almost cinéma-vérité feel to it, and arguably, the story pacing has produced a very British end of the world as we know it.

I was very much reminded of the Hollywood adaptation of Nevil Shute’s On The Beach as both stories deal with the anxiety generated by the existence of atomic bombs in the world.  However, while the former ends with the impending death of mankind, The Day the Earth Caught Fire has a more ambiguous ending, leaving us with the news of the detonation of bombs set to reset the Earth’s orbit, but without telling us whether the plan succeeded or not.

My understanding is that the film will be released in the United States in May of next year.  Also, for those readers who are concerned about atomic bombs knocking the Earth out of orbit, I have it on good authority that the energy required would be far greater than is currently achievable with our technology.

Now, last time I also promised to finish my summary of A for Andromeda.  We left-off waiting for what would happen to Fleming, Dawnay and Professor Reinhart in the next episode called, The Murderer. This episode gripped viewers around the country as the series premise of alien’s sending us the means to create life, and what that would mean for humanity, chilled people to the bone.

Christine, the character played by Julie Christie (who died in the previous episode) is re-created when the computer give the scientists the code for creating the next alien life form, which produces a copy of her called Andromeda.  The performance by Christie in her new role as the computer’s cat's paw is compelling, and I expect she will go on to star in other things.  Now that the alien intelligence is embodied in Andromeda, the original cyclops creature host is killed by the computer.

In episode six, called The Face of the Tiger, Andromeda is put to work on developing an orbital missile defence program for the British government.  Further developments also include the producing an enzyme that will aid in healing injuries.  But it soon becomes clear that humanity is in peril of coming under the influence and control of the computer, which is using Andromeda to further its own agenda.  The computer reveals itself when opposed by Fleming by making Dawney, the biologist working on the project, sick.

In the final episode, called The Last Mystery, the story is moved forward into the year 1972, when the signal from the Andromeda Galaxy has stopped.  The military are now in full control of the project, and the computer having failed to kill the other scientists, tries to kill Fleming by using Andromeda.  This plan fails, and Andromeda is revealed to be a slave of the computer; the scientist agree that it must be stopped, otherwise the world will fall under the alien computer’s control.

Fleming is able to release Andromeda from the computer control by destroying it with an axe, and Andromeda burns the plans for the machine.  The pair try to make their escape, but Andromeda falls into a pool and dies, while Fleming is captured by the military.  As endings go, this is great for mankind, but a bit of a downer for the hero.  Still, there’s always the possibility of a sequel, because, after all, this is science fiction…

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[September 11, 1961] Newest Child of The Bomb (The Flight that Disappeared)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Bomb.  Since its creation and use in 1945, it has overshadowed our world.  For the first time since we descended from the trees a million years ago, humanity had the means to destroy itself in one blow.  It can't help but influence our culture, our politics, our nightmares.  It is no surprise that atomic holocaust has figured prominently in our visual and printed media.

Last weekend, at a pre-premiere in Los Angeles, my daughter and I watched The Flight that Disappeared, the latest film to draw inspiration from the universal fear that is nuclear annihilation. 

In brief: Trans-Coastal Flight 60, an elderly prop-driven DC-6, takes off from Los Angeles Airport heading for Washington D.C.  Onboard are three pivotal characters summoned to the nation's capitol for a top secret meeting.  One is Dr. Carl Morris, who has developed the next inevitable phase in nuclear weaponry — a device that singly can destroy an entire country.  His colleague, mathematician Marcia Paxton, is also on the flight.  Completing the trio is Tom Endicott, a rocket propulsions engineer with a design for a super-ICBM.

Hours out from LAX, after the sun has set, the plane begins an inexorable climb.  The controls do not respond, and soon, Flight 60 is ten miles up.  Its passengers collapse one-by-one from oxygen starvation, the propellers stop turning, yet still the plane rises.  It disappears from ground radar, all radio contact cut.  A massive search uncovers no trace of the missing aircraft.

Endicott awakens to find the plane in daylight, the engines silent.  All of the passengers are in a state of suspended animation save for Paxton and Dr. Morris.  Their watches have stopped…as have their hearts.  As they ponder this new situation, wondering if they are dead, a mysterious figure beckons them out of the plane.  He represents the foreman of a jury, a jury of people who do not yet exist.  They inhabit the intersection of the present and the future made possible by the vast importance of the meeting of the three key passengers.

It is presented that the marriage of Morris and Paxton's creations will inevitably lead to a life-ending catastrophe, leaving Earth a shattered, barren land.  It matters not that the weapon is yet undeveloped or that the scientist trio will not directly build it.  Once it is conceived, it will someday be built, and our race must die.  The jury determine that the scientists are all guilty of genocide, and that they must remain in their weird timeless void forever so that the future might be saved.

Reprieve comes in the form of one of the jurors' dissent.  It is no one's place, he argues, to render such a judgment, even with the stakes so high.  The accused must be allowed to return, even if the consequences be destruction in the ultimate. 

We next see Endicott waking up once more.  It is night again, and the plane is not only running, but on schedule.  None of the passengers nor the flight crew remember anything out of the ordinary.  Only the trio remember.  Upon landing, they learn that their plane was missing for 24 hours beyond the anticipated flight time.  Convinced of the sincerity of the message delivered by the unborn future, Dr. Morris tears up his notes.

Little more than an overlong episode of The Twilight Zone, I can't imagine Flight will be a big hit.  While the story is reasonably sound, if utterly predictable from the beginning, it is padded to the point of being ponderous, even for a short movie.  Had this been an hour-long TV special (with commercials), it probably would have been more effective.

That said, I did find the movie somehow compelling.  The idea that certain junctures of history are so crucial that they weaken the fabric of space-time is an interesting one.  And while the jury sequence is a bit histrionic, there is merit to pondering whether humanity should be allowed to stumble along blindly when the risk be great, like a child lighting a match in a gunpowder factory (the simile cited in the movie).  Wouldn't it be nice if a guardian angel could tell us which line constituted a step too far in the march toward extinction. 

So I didn't dislike Flight, nor was I particularly bored.  Perhaps a more skilled writer might recycle this premise into something truly memorable.  As is, it's a two-star movie. 

Which is still better than a lot of the films we watch!


by Lorelei Marcus

This week we watched The Flight That Disappeared, and, unlike Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, it was exactly what it promised.  The movie wasn't bad, but it also wasn't anything special.  The acting was good, but nothing outstanding, the set was pretty much just an airplane the whole movie, and the plot was predictable from the start.

Something interesting about the movie itself however, was that it was in black and white.  It kept fading into what could've been a commercial break, which leads me to believe it was made to be aired on TV.  I have to give the film credit, it did well despite being on a small budget, though you can tell they really liked using the fog machine (to simulate being in the air, I guess).

Though the acting was nothing stupendous,there was one actor that stood out to me.  One of the three main characters, Endicott, reminded me a great deal of William Shatner, whom I saw in a previous episode of The Twilight Zone.

Anyway, that's all I really have to say about it.  Me and my father predicted the entire movie pretty much from the start, so it was really just a matter of waiting it out.  I would give this movie a 2 out of 5. You may see it if you wish, but I highly recommend watching The Twilight Zone instead.

This is the Young Traveler, signing off.

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[August 20, 1961] Sub-mediocre (Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea)

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by Gideon Marcus


"Wake me when it's over, willya?"

In this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction, Isaac Asimov describes the dread he felt when his children suggested they all go see a "science fiction" film.  The kids thought the mention of that term would sway him positively, seeing how sf is Asimov's bread and butter.  Asimov knew better, though.  Sci-fi films generally aren't very good, replete with scientific-sounding mumbo jumbo, giant monsters, and nonsensical plots. 

Of course, in service to my readers, I make sure to see them all.  Every so often, a gem slips through.  Witness The Time Machine and The World, the Flesh, and the Devil.  They may not be scientifically rigorous, but they are worth watching.

Galactic Journey's latest cinematic outing, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, is neither scientifically rigorous nor worth watching. 


(Actual voyages to the bottom of the sea not included)

From the trailer, I'd expected a madcap romp across the ocean, a sort of modern-day cross between Mysterious Island and Journey to the Center of the Earth.  Certainly, the snippet showing off Barbara Eden's jiggling hips and Frankie Avalon's trumpet, not to mention the giant octopus on the movie poster, suggested as much. 

This is what we got instead:

The nuclear submarine Seaview surfaces at the North Pole, a moment billed as momentous (even though the real-life sub Nautilus accomplished this feat in 1958).  Almost immediately thereafter, the Van Allen Belts catch fire, dramatically heating the Earth, and the ship is recalled home. 

Yes, you read that right.  The Van Allen Belts caught fire.  Never mind that despite the hellish radiation resulting from all those charged particles whizzing around up there (which I described in my recent article on Explorer 12), the space up there is essentially a vacuum.  What matter exists in the Belts comprises just free nuclear particles — neutrons, protons, and electrons.  There's virtually nothing up there to burn.  Certainly not in the literal sense, i.e. rapid oxidation. 

Never mind that.  I can overlook an improbable premise if it results in a good flick.  Sadly, this one does not.  Quite the opposite.

Upon arrival in New York, Admiral Nelson, the sub's creator and flag commander, announces before an emergency session of the United Nations that he can stop the heightening catastrophe before the Earth is burned lifeless.  At odds with every other scientist in the world, Nelson believes that, by firing a nuclear missile at the proper trajectory into the Belts, upon detonation, the Belts will be saturated with radiation and poof out of existence.  I'm not sure how the Admiral is qualified to make this deduction given his specialty is nuclear submarines, not geophysics. 

A scientist named Zuko declares that he is "diametrically opposed" to the Admiral's plan, that it will prove disastrous to the Earth, and that, by his calculations, the Van Allen fire will burn itself out before the Earth reaches the critical, point of no return, absolutely scientifically based, life-destroying temperature of 175 degrees Fahrenheit.  The UN votes, and Zuko's admonitions are heeded.  Nelson is not to proceed with his mad plan.

So, of course, Nelson does.  The renegade Seaview, Nelson in command, takes off for the Marianas region of the Pacific.  Three weeks hence, at a specific short window of time, he will fire his missile and save the Earth.


To the Marianas! (but not the bottom of the sea)

At this point, the movie has only committed a few sins: The science has been laughable, the protagonist has been portrayed as unquestioningly correct (despite no justification; well, we did see Nelson fondle a slide-rule at one point, so math was apparently involved), and despite the magnitude of the portrayed disaster, it's been a dull film.  Come on, fellas — if you're going to present an Earth-ending event, at least let us see some of it. 

Over the next hour, however, Voyage only sinks further into the depths of its badness.  We get a few "exciting" set-pieces.  When crew of the Seaview leave the ship to tap into a telephone cable (the radios having been silenced by all that Van Allen burning), they end up in a pitched battle with some kind of tentacle monster.  Later, the sub runs into an old minefield and has to clear its way through.  Directed as flatly as a plane, all drama is leached from scenes that could have been interesting.


Fighting killer seaweed!  Oh wait… that's Diver Dan.  Which is better.

There is one mildly compelling thread in Voyage.  Throughout the film, Admiral Nelson becomes increasingly irascible and monomaniacal.  The ship's psychiatrist is certain that he's cracking up.  Captain Crane, the Seaview's skipper, becomes concerned with Nelson's irrationality, opposing him at every turn.  The crew seethes toward mutiny, and incidents of sabotage occur. 

Given the peremptory manner in which the Admiral hatched his plan, as well as the news that the navies of the world have begun a hunt for the Seaview to prevent it from launching its missiles, I started to think that perhaps we weren't supposed to sympathize with Nelson.  That Voyage was a morality play about the danger of self-righteous action in the face of contrary evidence.  This thread climaxes with Crane's relieving of Nelson just as an American attack submarine appears to do battle with the Seaview.

For a moment, Voyage teetered on the edge of watchability.  Could Allen salvage an hour of badness?

Well, no.  You see, it turns out that Zuko was wrong.  The Belt doesn't burn itself out, evidence of which comes just before the launch window (even though the whole drama of the film depends on Nelson not believing he'll get this information until a full day after).  So the Admiral was right all along.  After a few minutes of tacked on drama involving a giant octopus and a couple of civilians who lacked proper faith in the infallible Admiral, the missile is fired at the last minute.  The Van Allen Belts explode outward, and the day is saved. 

In short, in just 5 minutes, Irwin Allen sabotages his own movie, sacrificing an actual story for some cheap (and I do mean cheap action). 

It's films like Voyage that rightly make Asimov trepidatious about going to the movies.  And in this case, it was the father who dragged the child unwillingly to the theater.  I feel terrible.  Almost as terrible as Irwin Allen should feel for making this flick.

One star.

But don't just take my word for it…


by Lorelei Marcus

Today we watched Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. I'm sorry to say that this movie was more of a voyage to the sea of explanation than anything else.  Almost everything was told to us in radio or TV announcements.  The sets consisted of three colors, gray, red, and grayish blue. The acting was mediocre, the dialogue almost nothing but exposition, and the costumes all a bland uniform beige.  By the end of the movie I couldn't tell anyone apart!


Tell us more, magic box!


Who's who again?

There was a plot to the movie, but filled with too many holes to count, and the entire movie was conveyed through static speeches or random (speechless) visuals.  God forbid you have both at the same time though!  That would mean the movie might start to make sense!


Ten minutes of silent diving footage?  Sure, I'll wait.

All joking aside, the movie was bland, boring, and predictable.  I guessed events long before they happened.  There wasn't even any journeying to the bottom of the sea as the title suggested. If I had to choose, I'd have to say the best parts of the movie were the cook's parrot, the dog (carried aboard by a rescued civilian), and one of the crew member's accents.  That should tell you how hard it was to find a good part to this movie.


Gertrude lives!

Oh the ending, the ending was the worst.  Basically the movie kept putting out a certain message.  Conveying it through actions and behaviors.  Though it was kind of obvious it was also pretty clever, for this movie at least.  The ending, however, threw that all away and did the opposite of what THE ENTIRE MOVIE had been building up to.


"Ha ha!  I was right all along."

Overall this movie was one of the worst I've seen with my dad.  I'd give it a 1 out of 5.  I do not recommend you see this movie.  It's the worst kind of bad, where it's not even ironically good.  I was tempted to walk out of the theater it was so bad.  They tried really hard to make a movie, and didn't.  So please, spare yourself from this, and be glad we watched it so you don't have to.

This is the young traveler, signing off.

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[July 30, 1961] 20,000 Leagues in a Balloon (Jules Verne's Mysterious Island)

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by Gideon Marcus

Jules Verne, the father of scientific adventure, has probably inspired more movie spectacles than any other writer.  Verne's characters have conquered all areas of the globe, from the center of the Earth, to the heights of the clouds, to the bottom of the ocean. 

Perhaps the most famous of Verne's protagonists is Captain Nemo, skipper of the magnificent submarine, the Nautilus.  In 20,000 Leagues under the Sea, adapted to film in 1953, Nemo led a one-man crusade against war, sinking the world's warships in the cause of pacifism.

My daughter and I just came back from the premiere of Mysterious Island, the latest translation of a Verne novel.  It is a sequel of sorts to 20,000 Leagues, though this is not immediately apparent from the beginning.  The initial setting is the siege of Richmond at the end of the American Civil War.  Four Yankee prisoners make a daring escape in a balloon along with an initially wary, but ultimately game, Confederate prisoner.  The film begins with no indication of where it's going other than the title (and the unfortunate mention of Nemo in the cast list).

This first act sets the pace for most of the movie – fast and exciting.  It continues for a good twenty minutes before the balloon crash-lands onto the movie's namesake, a volcanic spot of land in the South Pacific.  In this span, we get a good feel for the characters, all of whom are interesting and likable.  We have Captain Harding, a brusque, efficient sort who has little trouble commanding authority.  Neb is his aide-de-camp and good friend, a Negro soldier who's clearly served with Harding a long time.  Young Herbert is another of Harding's men, an ashamed coward who wishes he could be a better man (and gets the opportunity!).  The captured Rebel, Sergeant Branson, is an amiable sort.  After some initial mistrust, he falls in line with Harding.  The last of the adventurers is Gideon Spillet, a cynical and jaunty war reporter.  It is, perhaps, no surprise that the middle-aged journalist named Gideon is my favorite character…

Once upon the island, the band discovers a host of extraordinary features.  The volcano is ominously active.  Many of the flora and fauna of the island are unnaturally large.  Yet, despite these dangers, the castaways seem to have a guardian angel, always providing aid at the brink of catastrophe.

The oversized critters are beautifully brought to life by the master of stop-motion effects, Ray Harryhausen.  We've seen his work before in films like The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, and this may well be his most impressive outing.  Not only does he do a wonderful job of rendering a giant crab, a Diatryma, and a swarm of outsized bees, but their interactions with living actors are convincing. 

Not long after my daughter lamented the lack of women in the movie, two were thoughtfully provided.  The shipwrecked duo are the Lady Mary Fairchild, and her niece, Elena.  I greatly appreciated that the newcomers were treated, as characters, with dignity.  They quickly become members of the team, the noble Mary proving to be quite resourceful, indeed. 

Island maintains its tempo and excitement for a good 75 of its 101 minutes, prematurely climaxing with the introduction of the party's benefactor, Captain Nemo.  The final act, depicting Nemo's plan to leave the island in a captured brigands' vessel (the Nautilus having been crippled in the last movie), is somewhat inconsistent and expositional.  We lose a bit of the character interaction that made Island so entertaining. 

Nevertheless, there's no question that Island, despite its simple, linear plot and its uneven ending, is a delight.  It's a lovely film with a fine cast, yet another success in the long line of Vernian films.  Perhaps what I enjoyed the most about the movie, aside from the diverse cast, was its lack of an opponent.  So many films involve some degree of treachery or antagonism, an enemy to overcome or a traitorous party member.  I find that rather tedious.  In Island, all of the cast are basically good, and they work together to master their situation.  The setting, itself, provides enough drama to hold interest.

Moreover, the only animals we see killed and eaten are ones that attacked the party.  No goats or Gertrudes lose their lives in this film.

3.5 stars.

—


by Lorelei Marcus

Today we watched Mysterious Island, which was a pretty good movie, I would say.  Like most of the Verne movies we've watched, it has an exciting setup.  The special effects were amazing, as to be expected from Ray Harryhausen.  I loved seeing all of the creatures they'd come up with and seeing them turned into giant forms. The stop motion was meshed so well with the actual footage, it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't!  I can't pick a favorite creature — they were all so good.

The acting was also very good, and there was a lot of attention to detail on the actors.  I particularly liked the strong relationship between the Captain and Neb.  I'm not surprised that neither of them got involved with the castaway women as they had each other. 

My favorite thing is seeing people surviving and rebuilding, and this movie really scratched that itch. They came up with a lot of creative ways to create modern implements in the wild, from the goat pen to the shell bowls.

Overall the pacing was very good, until around the end where it slowed down a bit, but otherwise it was a fun movie.  It's hard to describe a plot because there wasn't much of one. They escaped from prison, they found an island, they built on the island, they escaped the island, The End.  Despite this though, I still thoroughly enjoyed the movie.  The sets were all very beautiful, and it was edited very well.

I think I would give this movie a 3.5 out of 5.  It was very good, but kind of lost me at the end. Still, I highly recommend you go see it yourself, if not for the story, then for the amazing special effects.

This is the young traveler, signing off.

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[July 17, 1961] Bridging two worlds (The animation, Alakazam the Great)

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And here is Ms. Rosemary Benton with her monthly report, this time on a subject near and dear to my heart: Japan…

July 14th was a red letter day for me.  Not only did I receive word that my uncle was marrying his long time Japanese girlfriend, Mika, but Alakazam The Great was released in theaters across America.  This film is a beautiful piece of animation from Toei Animation Company Ltd. 

Released in Japan in August last year under the title Journey to the West, the story of Alakazam the Great is actually a retelling of a very old and popular tale from China known as Saiyuuki.  Scholars of this 16th century morality epic will recognize Sun Wukong in our protagonist, Alakazam, as well as his dealings with the Buddha, named King Amo in the film.  There are far fewer acts in the film than there are in the original story of Sun Wukong, but the writers did do an impressive job of compacting the four main arcs of the epic into an 88 minute movie. 

Our story begins shortly after Alakazam has earned the title of king of the animal kingdom.  But as our narrator descibes, Alakazam is a conceited ruler obsessed with becoming more powerful than any human magician.  After tricking Merlin (yes, that Merlin; more on this later) into teaching him his craft, Alakazam believes that he can take on anything, even the entire magical population of the heavenly land of Majutsu.  Following a humiliating defeat, the king of Majutsu, King Amo, sends him on a pilgrimage to learn wisdom, humility and mercy so that he may once again rule the animals as a wise and compassionate leader.  Meeting many interesting companions along the way, Alakazam eventually learns to utilize his magic for good and justice.  He saves the prince of heaven, returns to his love, and lives happily ever after. 

I was very excited to see this film for two major reasons, as well as many many lesser reasons.  First and foremost the credited director of the film is Osamu Tezuka, one of modern Japan's most prolific "manga" (Japanese comics) creators.  I am an appreciator of the comic book medium, so Tezuka is hardly an unknown name to me.  Thanks to my soon-to-be-aunt I've been able to obtain translations of numerous works of his, all of which are exceptional with whimsical storytelling ferrying intense characters into entrancing conflicts.  To date he has created numerous adaptations of western classics like Faust (1950) and Crime and Punishment (1953), and has created hugely popular works for Japanese young adults including the science fiction action story Astro Boy and the coming of age title Jungle Emperor.  Upon looking into the production of the film, however, it is unclear how much direct involvement he had.  Still, I like to think that he had a part in not only the style, but the script — both of which bear a striking similarity to Tezuka's situational humor and Disney-inspired art style. 

Second, and perhaps most importantly, this is a film that beautifully showcases the changing relationship that America has with Japan and her citizens.  The very fact that this film made it to our shores at all suggests that there are English speaking audiences out there who are interested in the much larger world of Japanese cinema rather than the limited diet of Japanese culture (samurai, bonsai trees, tea…and Godzilla) normally encountered in America.  I would like to believe that there are even those high up in the entertainment industry who see this film not only a way to make money, but to introduce Americans to other noteworthy Japanese cinema besides the thrilling giant radioactive monsters we've seen so far. 

As avid consumers of film, Americans both young and old, literate or illiterate, have been exposed to Japan and her citizens for many years.  Until recently, these depictions were one-sided affairs, universally from the White perspective.  Observing film history chronologically, one can see a positive and dramatic change since World War II regarding the portrayal of Japan and the Japanese in American cinema. 

Live action documentary propaganda films created by the United States government in the 1940s were, predictably, focused on explaining the relocation of Japanese-American citizens to internment camps.  These 20-30 minute shorts were stark in their description of the camps, but also tried to show that civility and nationalism could work hand in hand during this time of crisis.  In 1942 a film from the U.S.  Office of War Information titled Japanese Relocation depicted Japanese-Americans as being humanely and voluntarily evacuated to orderly camps.  The reason being that there was a possibility that the West Coast of the U.S.  could become the site of a Japanese invasion, and in order to avoid conflict over who was loyal to Japan versus the U.S., precautionary relocation needed to occur.  The 1944 film A Challenge to Democracy, produced by the War Relocation Authority, also characterized the relocation as a voluntary choice made by patriotic Japanese-American citizens who could be released if they displayed unquestionable loyalty to the war effort.  In both of these movies the Japanese are shown as compliant, obedient and content with their situation.  These notions were partly reinforced in the silent film Topaz, a 1945 amateur film by internee Dave Tatsuno.  In the film one can see smiling faces despite the sorrow Tatsuno said they experienced.  Regardless, those who were shown in the camp were still experiencing play, family, community and civil responsibility.

As the war progressed, animated shorts emerged with far more harsh portrayals of the Japanese.  Stereotypical depictions of "Tojo" were common such as in Paramount Pictures' Private Snafu, UPA studios' Commando Duck (1944).  In each of these examples the supposed evil nature of the Japanese took precedence over the portrayal of any moral grey areas.  The Japanese were dehumanized and shown as cowardly; animated films played to the wider fear and anxiety of Japan generated by the grueling brutality of the war. 

In the 1950s, our view of the Japanese began to shift.  An early anomaly during the time when Japanese-Americans were still largely ignored in film (if not outright demonized), Go for Broke! (1951), featured not only Japanese-American actors, but told the story of Japanese-Americans fighting for America in Italy and France while their families waited for them at internment camps.  Bad Day at Black Rock (1955) continued the portrayal of Japanese-Americans along a similar vein – honorable and possessing good attributes.  By 1957 the Japanese were beginning to regain some of their humanity in American cinema despite still being the common villains.  Bridge on the River Kwai depicts the brutality of the Japanese POW camps, its prisoners forced to construct bridges for the Japanese army, yet there are laudable aspects to the enemy.  The Japanese are not all portrayed as irredeemable monsters.  And then, in 1958, there was Geisha Boy – a romantic comedy that stressed the importance of the United States' alliance with Japan against communism and even explored the possibility of a blossoming romance between the protagonist, Jerry Lewis, and his character's Japanese interpreter. 

Enter Alakazam, one of the first real glimpses of Japan as seen by Japan.  Well, not quite.  According to Mika, who'd happened to see the original film in Japan but was still willing to rewatch it with me in America, the original Japanese and the English language scripts are significantly different from one another on the surface.  In translating the script to better suit a Western audience, iconic figures from both West and East mythologies exist along side one another. 

In the original Chinese story, and in the film, the concept of the supreme heaven is ruled by Taoist deities.  No one would expect Hercules and Merlin to be classified as sages and to reside in this version of heaven, and yet they appear as such in the English story.  Merlin is a mountain hermit who teaches Alakazam all he knows of magic.  Hercules challenges Alakazam when he attempts to infiltrate Majutsu Land (The Heavens).  Western concepts are also substituted for more Japanese ones.  Such is the case when Alakazam first meets King Amo.  In the Japanese version the scene sets up a contest of strength between the two.  Alakazam claims that he can transform into any creature and leap, “108,000 li”, in a single bound.  His hubris is his overestimation of his abilities and his conviction that his skill is greater than anyone's. 

In the English version Alakazam says that he has come to challenge heaven because, “You old guys should make room for the younger generation”.  His hubris is that he can challenge those more experienced than himself and still retain superiority.  Despite what is lost in the translation of people and places, little appears to be lacking from the message of the film be it in English or in Japanese.  The moral still rings consistently true – Alakazam must learn how to rule for his people rather than for himself. 

Paralleling the relationship between the U.S.  and Japan, little is different between us despite our superficial cultural differences.  We both see ourselves as Alakazam did, but like him we must both grow to be better leaders.  I believe that we will continue to find our common goal as more and more films make their way from Japan to our shores.  It's too early to tell what the reception of American audiences will be to Alakazam the Great, but one can hope that it will not only herald more cross-cultural exchange, but more understanding between our peoples. 

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[June 20, 1961] The bright side of the Moon (Nude on the Moon)

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Rosemary Benton, as you know, is one of our regular columnists.  Imagine my surprise when she suggested the following subject for her article this month.  I'm just glad I didn't have to propose it to her…

Nude on the Moon is a surprising piece of science fiction cinema directed by Raymond Phelan and Doris Wishman under the pseudonym Anthony Brooks.  Like so many adult oriented films this one was a passion project.  Phelan and Wishman co-directed, produced and wrote the script and made excellent use of their surrounding area – southern Florida. Residents of Homestead, Florida will immediately recognize the set of the moon colony as the famous Coral Castle.  Although the production budget is obviously small, Phelan and Wishman managed to make a rather intriguing movie. 

[WARNING: Those planning to watch Nude might wish to skip the following paragraph!]

The film follows the exploits of two rocket scientists, Professor Nichols (William Mayer) and Dr. Jeff Huntley (Lester Brown), who fund and execute a scientific mission to the moon.  The premise beyond that is pretty predictable.  They make it to the moon, but to their disbelief it's not the volcanic wasteland that they and the rest of the world expected.  Instead they find a peaceful kingdom of nudists ruled by a benevolent black haired beauty who is played by an actress simply credited as “Marietta”. Before they run out of oxygen Professor Nichols and Dr. Huntley must gather evidence of their discovery in order to fund further trips.  Tragically, Dr. Huntley and the Moon Queen fall in love but are forced to part so that the two men can return to Earth.  In a somewhat romantic turn Dr. Huntley finally notices the duo's long time secretary, Cathy (also played by “Marietta”), when he realizes that she bears a striking resemblance to the Moon Queen.  The film ends with them gazing into each other's eyes as they dissolve into the same moon landscape painting used for the beginning of the film.

The effort that is made to sound scientific, combined with the fantastical image of the moon, results in a rather simple but charming movie.  The first half of the film is dedicated to Dr. Huntley and Professor Nichols planning how they will use Dr. Huntley's inheritance of 3 million dollars to fund the expedition, extended shots of them tinkering in their labs, the two of them discussing the issues of metal contraction and expansion, and pondering how their trip will go.  We see Dr. Huntley and Professor Nichols develop as characters, and even get a surprise reference to Doris Wishman's 1960 nudist colony film Hideout in the Sun.  The science part of this piece of fiction melts away pretty quickly once they leave the Earth's atmosphere.  After their ship separates and they land we enter the Buck Rogers realm of hockey space suits, gold nuggets just lying around on the ground, and of course a moon's surface that looks strangely like a popular roadside attraction.

It's surprising how fleshed out the two main characters of Nude on the Moon really are.  Dr. Huntley is portrayed as a man obsessed with his career and intellectual pursuits, but is naive and almost blindingly optimistic.  He's consistently shortsighted too, which is showcased in how quickly he falls in love with the Moon Queen. Not to mention his logic of rejecting government funding in favor of using his own money because, "Money is only good when you're doing something good with it."  Professor Nichols is the guiding influence in Dr. Huntley's world.  He's the realist and far more money conscious than his partner. Scientific pursuit is extremely important, but not to the exclusion of ladies and film as we see when he flirts with Cathy and expresses his appreciation for Hideout in the Sun.

For a film that's basically an excuse to show topless women there's a lot of setup.  The plot even circles around to explain why this mission to the moon isn't known all over the world.  By not telling the press, not accepting funding from the US government, and forgetting their camera and samples on the moon they have no proof that their mission even happened.  They themselves aren't even sure that they went to the moon since they were passed out during the landing, and even by their own admission what happened to them went far beyond any current conception of the moon's surface.

Given that I could only find this film playing at a grindhouse theater two towns over, plus the clarity of the title, that Nude on the Moon bears the Motion Picture Association of America's (MPAA) label of "Suggested for Mature Audiences" is unsurprising.  Roughly half of the running time for Nude on the Moon is dedicated to the tropical paradise nudist kingdom on the moon.  Topless perky ladies (and two gentlemen) all lounging, dancing, frolicking before the scientific gaze of the visiting Earth research team.  It's purely voyeuristic eye candy, but is still arguably part of a major shift in cinema.  Last year the Hays Code (also known as the Production Code) was significantly overhauled to better suite current trends in America's disposition with cinema.  Prohibitions on portrayals of drug use, abortion, miscegenation, prostitution, abortion and nudity were all reframed. At the same time blasphemy and ridiculing of the clergy were expressly prohibited.  Nude on the Moon still has run into trouble with the censors.  New York state banned the film because of its portrayal of nudity outside of an “official” nudist colony context.  Phelan and Wishman's explanation that it was a moon nudist colony did not sway their decision.

Nude on the Moon is, and it feels weird to say this, but a rather cute, charming movie.  It also can't be overstated how refreshing it was to see a woman director taking to the science fiction genre in film.  I am probably not the audience that Doris Wishman or Raymond Phelan expected, but I have to commend them on producing a decently made and written schlock film.  It's not often I wander into a grindhouse theater in the pursuit of science fiction, and since The Beast of Yucca Flats was the last grindhouse production I saw I wasn't sure what to expect.  It certainly wasn't something of quality.  The miniatures used to show the rocket's launch, travel through space, and the landing on the moon were decently done, and the music plays well with the hokeyness of the premise.  The plot nicely ties itself up at the end, and most importantly it didn't seem to bore the audience.  They are not just at a nudist camp sunbathing, lounging and having a generally relaxing day, they are aliens too!  It succeeds very well at what it sets out to do, which is to be a rather adorable twist on the nudist camp genre of films.

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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[May 27, 1961] RED STAR, BLUE STAR (May 1961 UK Fandom report)

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[Ashley Pollard is back with this month's report on the space and sci-fi scene across the Pond!  Yes, I did use the term "sci-fi" advisedly…]

Last month a Red Star rose in the East.  This month a Blue Star rose in the West as Alan Shepherd became the first American in space.  He was aboard the Freedom 7 Mercury capsule launched atop the Mercury-Redstone 3 booster — showing it's possible to reach space without getting to orbit. While this may be seen as a bit of disappointment, it clearly demonstrates American caution in testing systems before clearing them for flight.  Something I’m sure the astronauts approve of, as they sit atop what is a potential bomb if things go wrong.

I understand that there’s another flight using the Redstone booster in July to look forward to, but my friend Gerry Webb, a member of the British Interplanetary Society, informs me the larger Mercury-Atlas booster is required to propel a man into orbit.  However, I’m sure it won’t be long until an American astronaut orbits the Earth as both the Russian and American space agencies strive to be the first to achieve the next new record.  I will be following the action as the Space Race hots up.

Meanwhile, at the last Thursday night’s London Circle meeting, once one had gotten through the frothing going on about memberships cards and the current fan feud that rolls on, we sat down and discussed the lamentable state of the British space programme.  I braced myself with a Gin & Tonic, with ice and a slice, for the lamentation of the space geeks.

To summarize Great Britain’s role in space, we lag far behind both United States and the Soviet Union, our government having cancelled Blue Streak early last year, which was a medium-range ballistic missile that would’ve made a good basis for a British rocket.  It was being tested at the Woomera Rocket Range in Australia (named, aptly, after an Aboriginal spear throwing aid).  Woomera has plenty of room to fire rockets into space, unlike the Home Counties or anywhere else for that matter on the British Isles.

Shortly after announcing the cancellation of the Blue Streak our government changed its mind and said it would develop a two-stage rocket called Black Prince: using Blue Streak for the bottom stage and our Black Knight missile for the top.  Gerry tells me that the names are generated from the British government’s Rainbow Code that uses a colour and a randomly generated word for aerospace projects.  Unfortunately, for British fans of space rocketry, our government then went and cancelled the Black Prince project for being far too expensive.

I’m afraid that only leaves us the fictional British rocket programmes to fly the flag for us in space.

We start with the "British Experimental Rocket Group" from Quatermass by Nigel Kneale (the television show which wrapped up almost a decade ago, but which spawned two sequels).  As space projects go, it can’t be said to have been a complete success for two very good reasons.  First was the loss of ship on landing, and then there was the small matter of the crew dying and the mutated survivor wanting to chomp down on the inhabitants of the City of London.

However, that still leaves us with Dan Dare, Pilot of the Future, which I haven’t mentioned before.  He is the eponymous hero of the Eagle comic’s lead strip.  Dan Dare is the lead test pilot of the "Interplanet Space Fleet", whose adventures in space are still delighting its readers after ten years of weekly installments.  The series was created by Frank Hampson who consulted Arthur C. Clarke on the comic strips' science.  While lots of spaceships have been lost, favourites like Dan Dare’s own Anastasia fly around the Solar system rescuing those in need of help, and defeating the various nefarious plans of enemies like the Mekon: large headed green alien overlords from Venus (and I expect you thought I would say Mars – still green though).

And finally we have UNEXA, the "United Nations Exploration Agency."  This organization launches space missions and is the creation of Hugh Walters who has written a series of children’s science fiction that starts with Blast Off at Woomera.  Ah that Woomera, which is no longer the centre of British aspirations in space.  Sometimes fiction is better than fact.

Needless to say, most of those around the table with me had that look on their faces I always see when I mention something that’s considered off piste in polite science fiction company.  And don’t get me started about the furore it causes if one dares to use Forrest J Ackerman’s term for our genre: Sci-Fi . I can only hope that in the future that people who enjoy reading and watching SF, including comics, will be accepted as fans like the rest of those who only read books and magazines . Besides I like pronouncing Sci-Fi as Skiffy, because skiffy rhymes with spiffy.  Moreover, I think that reading SF is a smart thing as the world around us transforms from steam and steel into space and computers.

The other topic du jour has been George Blake née George Behar who was sentenced to 42 years in prison for being a spy for the Russians.  Spying has become a topic of interest in my circles because of the link to secrets, and the nature of those secrets were the topic of a long discussion.  Featuring prominently were atomic bombs, which were up until a few years ago the sole purview of those science fiction types who like to fantasize about going into space.  I only comment about the spying, because as I said last time I’ve been watching the TV spy show The Avengers, which has just finished being broadcast for the season.  As has Supercar for that matter.

I note that there are a lot of what would have been considered quite science fictional elements in Avengers.  Perhaps not overtly showcased, but covertly in the use of science McGuffins to drive the stories forward.  It should come as no surprise to hear the show being called Spy-Fi, which underscores my point.  Language evolves, and as long as terms are not used to denigrate a genre, then I really don’t mind if you call what I read or watch Sci-Fi.

So, we now live in a world where science fiction can no longer be denied yet, we are still able to start endless bickering over whether it’s called science fiction, SF, Sci-Fi or even speculative fiction, a term I encountered when used by Robert A. Heinlein, though I understand he wasn’t the first to coin the expression.  The point being is that I prefer to imagine a future where we can all be the best of what we can be, and that we live being non-judgemental and have unconditional positive regard for our fellow human beings whether they be right or wrong.  Now isn’t that a science fictional ideal worth pursuing as we blast off into the Final Frontier.

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Movies

[May 24, 1961] Progress? (The Beast of Yucca Flats, by Rosemary Benton)

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May 1961 has been a busy month for movies!  We're up to three: Gorgo, Atlantis, and…well, see for yourself what guest writer, Ms. Rosemary Benton, has been so kind as to present:

Oh my, was this a lesson is poor filmmaking and truly a dark day for the science-fiction genre.  The tale ofThe Beast of Yucca Flats is short, but very baffling. 

Here's the set-up: Soviet agents have been dispatched to apprehend and execute Dr. Joseph Javorsky, a scientist defected from "behind the Iron Curtain," carrying top secret documents about the Russian "Moon Shot."  A firefight commences leading to a car chase onto a plain which we see, via a small hand painted sign, is the Nevada Test Site (NTS) Yucca Flats.  The US agents then stop the car in order to continue the previous gun fight (which makes no sense; they must be heading to the military base at the nuclear testing facility, Why stop?) Needless to say their exchange leads to a pursuit on foot into the surrounding wastes, when FLASH! a nuclear bomb is detonated.  The last that is seen of the poor doctor is a hand reaching towards a flaming briefcase.  When next we see Dr. Javorsky, the radiation exposure has turned him into a mad strangler – The Beast!

Immediate points of contention when addressing this film include stilted performances, shots that are so dark they're black, and a rambling plot that seems to jump around in time.  The cinematography is directed with little regard to continuity: characters will be stumbling toward camera left when just a moment prior they were fleeing from camera right.  Interestingly, the film was recorded with no audio, so when a character has dialogue, the lines are delivered with the actor facing away from the camera, off camera entirely, or in a scene so dark you can't make out anything.  All sound – special effects, music, and dialogue – were very clearly added in post production.

Thankfully this was the second film in the double feature I saw, because I can't imagine who would brave this film hoping to see what follows it.  Going on about the technical quality of the film in any aspect would be a pointless adventure.  So instead I let my mind wander, and as I was sitting in the theater for a seemingly endless amount of time I was drawn to several interesting aspects of the film's production.

As a project funded on a shoestring it's not surprising to see members of the cast double up on roles. Larry Aten, the actor portraying patrolman Joe Dobson, was credited as both an actor as well as the makeup artist.  Unfortunately I don't know his work from anywhere else, but amazingly, there was one actor whose career I was very familiar with.  Character actor Tor Johnson plays the titular Beast of the film, bringing with him his infamous white eyed visage and staggering gait.  Given his prior film history, I knew that his name popping up in the introductory credits heralded a film that would be assuredly terrible, but fascinatingly so.

Tor Johnson started out as a wrestler known as The Swedish Angel.  The first credited role Johnson landed was a background part on the acclaimed history-drama show You Are There.  Johnson continued finding bit roles in television before breaking into movies via 1955's Edward D. Wood Jr. picture, Bride of the Monster.  Two years later, Johnson again starred in an Ed Wood film, The Unearthly.  Then came Night of the Ghouls in 1958, written, produced and directed by…you guessed it: Ed Wood.  By the time Johnson starred in (Wood's) Plan 9 From Outer Space , it was clear that the man had found his niche.  In fact, it was downright odd to see him anywhere outside of an Edward D. Wood Jr. production, but I will admit that if anyone had to portray a radioactive scientist turned strangler, former wrestler Tor Johnson was a good choice.

Coleman Francis, writer, actor, director, editor and co-producer of The Beast of Yucca Flats, is another name that I recognized from television and film.  As a thespian, you might remember him from Sargent Preston of the Yukon , or Dragnet.  Uncredited roles of his include the power plant phone operator in the 1954 science-fiction film Killers from Space and the express delivery man from the 1955 jewel This Island Earth .  Judging by the number of functions he managed in The Beast of Yucca Flats, it was clearly his passion project . Having that much control over a project could have allowed Francis to create something very different.  That isn't what happened, but nonetheless there's an outsider quality to the film that, although not nearly as clever as Francis thought it was, deserves some consideration.

In a better film with a better script, the ever present narration (written and read by Coleman Francis) might actually have come off as clever.  However, weighed down by odd timing and working in tandem with a poor plot, the words come off as pompous.  Francis's narration consists of the repetition of key phrases which are supposed to draw a correlation between the plot and larger world issues.  The repetition of the word “progress” is a particular favorite of his.  "Progress" is synonymous with Dr. Javorsky, or more specifically the Beast.  Joe Dobson is, "Caught in the wheels of progress" as he surveys the first victims of the Beast.  "Progress" said as the highway patrolmen are getting into their car to look for the murderer of a young couple.  I can only assume that, according to Coleman Francis, scientific progress has a price that must be paid in blood and futile efforts. 

Take Joseph Javorsky who lost his whole family in Hungary and now, just when he was about to meet with the American scientific and military community, is caught in an atomic blast that turns him into a strangler and who is then hunted down and shot.  A poetic criticism of the advancement of science, but impossible to take seriously when there isn't any scientific basis for the conflict of the plot – which, again, is about a man who is driven to murderous strangulation after being caught in a blast of radiation.

The Beast of Yucca Flats is almost a creature of a bygone era if one only looks at the way that it was filmed and written.  There are hints, however, of a new emergence in science-fiction and film that I believe Francis was aware of when he made his movie.  More and more young people can afford their own entertainment, which translates into profits for anyone who can hold their attention.  To that end The Beast of Yucca Flats attempts to be both a titillating “creature feature” and a cautionary tale of science.  As a creature feature, it conforms to the metaphor of creature/alien/monster serving as the embodiment of all that is wrong with the world. Through science gone awry this creature/alien/monster has struck at the hand that created it.  Such cautionary tales of science featuring a centralized menace are plentiful in science-fiction and include such memorable movies as Godzilla, King of Monsters! from 1956, Them! (1954), and The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953). 

Where earlier science fiction films predominantly try to present as fantastical but scientific, The Beast of Yucca Flats nearly glosses over any real science.  The disaster that is supposed to spawn the Beast is highly illogical, and the film misses that crucial science-fiction scene where the characters try to figure out why radiation would turn someone into a mad strangler.  It's a pretty major deviation from the last decade of the genre's formula, but one that I imagine we will see more of in the future as focus in science-fiction cinema shifts to accommodate the emerging teenage movie-going population . It can certainly be expected that marketing to a young audience will include more nude scenes as in the uncut opening of The Beast of Yucca Flats. 

Would I recommend that anyone see this film?  No.  It's a poorly made movie that was released on the popularity of the science-fiction genre, but does nothing to further it.  Aside from being insultingly dumb, it's a boring film with only the wacky collection of cast members going for it.  It is always entertaining to see Tor Johnson reprising his Lobo character, but in this case take a pass and make sure whatever double feature you see with The Beast of Yucca Flats shows the film second, not first.

[Ms. Benton has neglected to rate this gem.  1 star?  2 stars?  6?  And I have to wonder what the first movie of the double-feature was…]

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Movies

[May 19, 1961] One of our Continents is Missing! (Atlantis: The Lost Continent)

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The cinema is one of those eternal joys.  I can't see it ever dying out, even though doomsayers have been predicting just that for decades.  Radio was the first real competition, especially when movies were silent.  But then Talkies came out around 1930, and radio doesn't have moving pictures.  Television does, and it seems a stronger contender.  Still, although ticket sales have declined, the film industry has responded by showing the kind of spectacle you can't see on the small screen.  Epics like The Ten Commandments, Ben Hur, Spartacus.

Those definitely provide impetus to hit the movie houses, but I'd go even if the blockbuster never had been invented.  For me, it's a chance to get away from the world.  My daughter and I (and sometimes my wife) go into that darkened room, redolent with the smell of butter and popcorn.  We've got our pop and our candy.  The floor is just a touch disconcertingly sticky.  You don't have to dress up to go to the movies these days, particularly in California.  The lights go out, the curtains open, and for two hours (or more, if it's a double-feature or you get a couple of shorts) all of your worries disappear.  It's a portal beyond reality.

Particularly if, like us, you're into the fantasy and s-f flicks.  Let's face it — if I want to see everyday drama, I woun't bother plunking down a quarter for the privilege.  No, I go to the movies to see something other worldly.  Much of it is subpar, but plenty is good.  Moreover, the best of the genre have comedy and action to rival conventional movies in addition to possessing that element of the Beyond I crave.  Not that I don't watch mainstream films: I saw Spartacus and Ocean's 11 last year.  It's just that I also saw every monster, alien, and space movie that came out in 1960, and I plan to keep up the practice through this decade and beyond.

And tell you all about it…

With that, let me report on last Saturday's outing.  The Young Traveler and I went to the local drive-in for the latest from George Pal, the wizard who brought us last year's amazing The Time Machine (winner of the Oscar for Best Special Effects!).  On tap was Atlantis: The Lost Continent, a sumptuous swords and sandals epic a la The Seven Voyages of Sinbad. 

The pace is quick.  Within five minutes of the movie's start, our hero, the Greek fisherman, Demetrios, has pulled up a nearly drowned beauty from the ocean.  This most unappreciative and haughty girl is none other than Antillia, Princess of Atlantis.  She demands that Demtrios chauffeur her beyond the Pillars of Herculues into the Atlantic Ocean, back to her home, but the fisherman believes the journey would be suicide. 

Antillia is not to be denied, however, and she steals the man's boat to make the trip herself — only she is too inept a sailor to outrun Demetrios, who is a powerful swimmer.  The fisherman's first inclination is to turn the ship back home, but he wavers in the face of Antillia's charm.  Demetrios agrees to sail to Atlantis if, in return, she agrees to marry him upon their return to Greece.  The deal made, the pair sojourn for a month, enduring storms, gods, and other Mediterranean hazards.  I at first thought that Atlantis would be an Odyssey-esque adventure, and that the lost continent might not figure prominently in the film.  This, of course, was silly.  One does not make a movie about Atlantis without showing its dramatic sinking, especially if that someone is George Pal!

Out in the middle of the ocean, the pair encounter a menacing sea monster.  In a very effective scene, Demetrios attempts to ward off the creature, but his spear bounces off with…a metallic clang!  The sea serpent is, in fact, an Atlantean submarine, the first indication of Atlantis' super-advanced technology.  The ship's captain, the wily Zaren, takes the pair aboard and whisks them to Atlantis.

At the continent's capital, Antillia is joyfully reunited with her father, the well-meaning but doddering King.  Demetrios, however, finds himself in chains, put to work alongside Atlantean slaves mining the powerful energy crystals that are the secret to Atlantis' strength.  Atlantis, for all its beauty, is built on depravity.  From the Roman-esque gladiatorial games, to the grinding inhumanity toward the non-Atlanteans, including Mengele-esque experiments on the slaves with the aim of turning them into human-beast hybrids.  As if nature itself knows that such an abhorrent state cannot be withstood, the continent is rocked with increasingly violent quakes, and it is foretold that wicked Atlantis shall not survive for long.



Zaren, the true power behind the throne, remains heedless of the warnings of Sonoy, his astrologer, and of Azar, the good-hearted priest (who has turned his back on the pagan gods and has found faith in the True God).  Rather, the wily usurper has concocted a plan to take over the world, crafting a giant beam weapon powered by the mother of all energy crystals.  It is up to Demetrios, Antillia, and Azar to delay Zaren so that the impending natural catastrophe can thwart his plans.

Without giving too much of the ending away, I can confirm that the sinking of Atlantis does occur, and it is magnificent.  Some excellent model work mixed with clever optical effects makes for a satisfying conclusion.  Other noteworthy elements are the score (though there is some recycling of motifs from The Time Machine) and the acting, particularly the performances turned in by John Dall (Zaren, who was in Spartacus) and Paul Frees.  The latter is never seen; rather, his vocal talents are evident throughout.  The versatile Frees, who you've assuredly heard in prior films, and will hear in films to come, is the film's narrator and the looped-over voice of many of the characters. 

Atlantis, a colorful and lovely film, is actually quite dark for its genre.  Perhaps it is because the monsters in Atlantis are humans that the scenes of cruelty and torture are so hard-hitting.  There is definitely a morality about the film — evil places, whether they be called Sodom or Atlantis, no matter the level of technology (or, perhaps, even because of it), shall not be tolerated.  Perhaps there's a touch of Walter M. Miller in Pal.

While it's not the tour de force that his last movie was, Atlantis was a solid piece of work that is worth your time.  The first half is better than the last half, but the end is worth sticking around for.  Three and a half stars.

I greatly enjoyed Atlantis, though more for its visuals than its plot. It is more of a movie that leaves you with a taste or feeling, rather than memory of a story.  It shares many aspects of Sinbad, in terms of visuals and feel.  As my dad said, it is very much a sword and sandals movie.

To my dad's point, there were a few moments that were violent, but overall it's a pretty tame movie (unless you count an entire civilization collapsing into the ocean not tame.) The special effects were also amazing.  They were as good as the The Time Machine, if not better.  I specifically like the fact that they built an entire mini Atlantis solely to destroy it.  Knowing that it was by George Pal though, I'm not surprised.

Overall I would also give it a solid three and a half.  Not nearly as good as the Time Machine, but still a great movie.  Especially compared to most of the movies we watch.  I highly recommend you go to see it for yourself, for the amazing visuals and for the experience as a whole. 

This is the Young Traveler, signing off.

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Movies

[May 8, 1961] Imitation is… (Gorgo)

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Just a generation ago, King Kong introduced us to the spectacle of an oversized monster wrecking a modern metropolis.  The Japanese have taken this torch and run with it, giving us first Godzilla, and its rather inferior sequel, Godzilla Raids Again.  Not to be outdone, the British have unleashed a giant lizard on their own capital.

As my regular readers know (and I'm pleased to see that this number has grown since I began this endeavor just two-and-a-half years ago), my daughter and I are avid movie-goers.  I daresay we've watched every science fiction and fantasy flick that has mounted reel in our town since 1959.  That means we see a lot of dreck, but even the worst films often have something to recommend them, even if it is only their own awfulness.  And, there are the occasional indisputably great shows.

Gorgo is not among them, but then it never claims to be.  It delivers exactly what it promises: the gleeful destruction of London.

I'm getting ahead of myself.  First, the plot, such as it is:

During a salvage mission off the coast of Ireland, the M.V. Triton is almost capsized by the emergence of an undersea volcano.  Taking refuge in a provincial island port, the Triton's captain, Joe Ryan, and his mate, Sam Slade, witness an assault on the village by a sea-based dinosaur.  They assist in its repulsion and then, fired by greed, hatch a plan to capture the creature.  They are warned against this endeavor by charming little Sean, a villager boy with a Gaelic lilt, but Ryan and Slade are determined.


Joe: How about we capture this thing and sell it for money?  — Sean: That's a bad idea.

Surprisingly, their gambit of dangling Slade in a diving bell like fishing bait works; they net the poor creature and hoist it onto their boat.  This was the point at which I dubbed the film "Animal Cruelty: The Movie!"  At no time did events suggest a different title (and, in fact, they only reinforced it.) On the long trip to London, lured by the promise of a cash payout by a local circus, Ryan keeps the beast doused with water.  It runs off the creature, leaving a tell-tale trail in the boat's wake – an important plot point.


Joe: Why did you try letting it free?  — Sean: This is a bad idea.

Once in the British capital, the newly christened "Gorgo" is tranquilized and placed in a spiked, electric-wire girdled pit for gawkers to admire.  All seems well for Ryan's lucrative new venture, but Slade (urged by Sean) is having second thoughts.  It soon turns out that there are more than humanitarian reasons to free the creature; it is, in fact, an infant, and its mother must be several times larger – and none too happy!


I shan't spoil the rest.  Suffice it to say that Mom does make an appearance, and the King Brothers (producers of this film) are not stingy with her screen time.  A full half of the movie is devoted to a pitched running battle between the giant oceanic saurian and Her Majesty's Navy, Army, and Air Force, followed by some lovingly depicted destruction of London's most recognizable landmarks as the mother comes to reclaim her child.  I must say, the British do collapsing stone walls much more convincingly than the Japanese.



Is it art for the ages?  Absolutely not.  Though there is some morality tacked on, mostly of the "humanity mustn't think itself the master of nature" sort of thing, it's an afterthought.  Characterization is abandoned around the halfway mark.  This is no Godzilla — it is knocking over of toy cities for the fun of it. 

At that, it succeeds quite well.  Gorgo makes liberal and reasonably facile use of stock footage (though the planes all inexplicably bear United States markings!) The cinematography is well composed, the color bright, the screen wide.  The acting is serviceable, and for anyone who wants to see what London looks like in this modern year of 1961, there are lots of great shots, both pre and post-destruction.


Joe: I can't help but feel that I'm slightly responsible for all of this.  — Sean: No kidding.

Good, clean fun, and a cautionary tale to those who kick puppies.  Momma's going to get you, and she has a mean bite.  Three stars.

But don't just take my word for it; let's hear from my co-reviewer, the Young Traveler:

I thoroughly enjoyed Gorgo for what it was, a movie about destruction and explosions, but I also wished there could have been a little bit more dialogue, especially with Sean.  It felt like he was just there, without much of a purpose, which I feel is really a shame since I really liked his character.

However I can give the movie credit on the ending.  I won't spoil it, but I did like it.  It seems I've got a knack for guessing the endings of movies and shows from the beginning.  Similar to a few Twighlight Zone episodes, I guessed Gorgo's ending (and about the appearance of Mama Gorgo) in the first ten minutes!

I do want to also point out the special effects. Some of the stock footage splicing looked a little silly, going from a red smoky sky to a clear blue one, but other than that they were very well done. The buildings always fell with a satisfying crash; the gunshots and electrical shocks, though also a little silly, were edited in well; and finally, the monsters looked amazing.  At one point I commented that Gorgo looked like "an adorable kitty fish" but that aside, they looked fairly realistic throughout the movie.  I think the best effect was their eyes.  Even through the hard monster exterior, they always showed emotion via their red eyes.  The eyes would also look around at things and not just stay in one place.  Overall, it was a really convincing suit, even if it did constantly vary in size. 

Truly a step up from Konga.  I also give it three stars.

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