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[July 6, 1965] Same Difference (Dr. Who And The Daleks)

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By Jessica Holmes

Welcome to another round of my ramblings on Doctor Who, where this time I’ll be talking about something a bit different. I’ve had the opportunity to see the Doctor, Ian, Barbara and Susan in full colour on the big screen, but not quite as you know them.

I’ve just previewed the new film (so new, in fact, that it doesn’t come out in the UK theaters until August) Dr. Who And The Daleks, Milton Subotsky’s adaptation of Terry Nation’s serial, The Daleks. Directed by Gordon Flemyng and starring Peter Cushing, this adaptation manages to be too much like the original and not enough, both to its detriment. How? Well, let me explain.

For anyone who didn’t see the original The Daleks, or missed my review back then, here’s a basic rundown of the plot. If you’re familiar with the original, you can skip this next bit. Aside from the setup, it is almost exactly the same.

Image description: Film poster. Top text: NOW ON THE BIG SCREEN IN COLOUR! Bottom text: DR. WHO & THE DALEKS, TECHNICOLOR TECHNISCOPE, PETER CUSHING, ROY CASTLE, JENNIE LINDEN, ROBERTA TOVEY.

A Quick Recap

Eccentric-but-kindly inventor Dr. Who lives (Peter Cushing) with his two granddaughters, Susan (Roberta Tovey) and Barbara (Jennie Linden). When Barbara’s friend Ian (Roy Castle) comes by the house one day, Dr. Who shows him his new invention, a time-and-space machine called Tardis, which is bigger on the inside. Ian accidentally activates the machine, sending the group to an alien world. They land in a petrified forest destroyed long ago in an atomic war, and spot a city in the distance.

Image description: Wide shot of petrified forest in green lighting. The four main cast stand in centre frame, beside Tardis.

Outside Tardis, Susan gets a fright when a stranger tries to approach her. Shortly after, the group finds a box of medicine left by the door of Tardis. Although the younger members of the group are keen to return home, Dr. Who lies and says there is a problem with a component of his ship, the fluid link, and insists they must go to the city to look for the materials to repair it. Once in the city, the group discover that the surface of this world is awash with radiation, and the symptoms of radiation sickness are beginning to set in. To make matters worse, they get captured by the Daleks, a race of creatures who get around in armoured personal vehicles to protect themselves from the radiation.

Image description: 7 Daleks in the foreground, looking at Dr. Who, Susan and Ian in centre frame. There is a computer bank in the background.
That central part of the computer revolves. It's a rather wonderful set piece.

The Daleks seize TARDIS’ fluid link from Dr. Who, and overhear the group discussing that the drugs they found could be their only hope to survive the radiation sickness. Coveting the drug for themselves, the Daleks order Susan to retrieve the medicine from Tardis, promising that the humans will be allowed to administer the treatment. Upon her arrival at Tardis, Susan meets Alydon (Barrie Ingham), the leader of the Thals, another group of people who live on this world. Unlike the Daleks, the Thals appear human. They went to war with the Daleks a long time ago and both their civilisations were destroyed. The Thals have come to the Dalek city because their crops have failed and they want to trade their medicine for food. Alydon gives Susan an extra box of medicine, and she returns to the city, where the Daleks allow the humans to use the spare box.

Image description: A crowd of Thals look at Alydon, second from right in the front row, as he reads a letter.
Perhaps they should have called this 'Planet of the Bad Haircuts'.

The Daleks get Susan to write a letter to the Thals inviting them to trade, but when she completes the letter the Daleks announce their intentions to betray the Thals and destroy them.

The humans manage to disable a Dalek by cutting off its power supply, and escape to warn the Thals of the ambush. Most manage to flee in time, and the humans regroup with the Thals at their camp, where after some goading from Dr. Who and Ian, the pacifistic Thals agree to strike back at the Daleks. However, the attack fails, and Dr. Who and Susan are recaptured.

Image description: On the left Dr. Who and Susan stand together under a beam of light. On the right is a black Dalek.

Ian, Barbara and Alydon try a different way into the city, travelling through dangerous swampland and over a mountain to infiltrate the city from the rear, following the water pipes. Once inside, they regroup with the rest of the Thals, who launched an attack to rescue Dr. Who and Susan. The Daleks are about to detonate another atomic bomb to make the planet uninhabitable for the Thals, but the humans and Thals manage to stop them in time, with Ian tricking the Daleks into destroying their own machinery. Dr. Who recovers the fluid link, and with Tardis repaired and the Daleks defeated, the humans say their farewells and leave for Earth.

Image description: In the foreground, the four main cast members shake hands with a number of Thals. There are more Thals in the background.

What’s The Difference?

So far so identical. There’s been a bit of a change in the setup, with Susan becoming much younger, and Ian and Barbara are no longer her teachers. I suppose it makes sense, given that otherwise the film would have to devote time to explaining why an old man and a young girl are dragging a couple of teachers around time and space. In addition I would imagine there would be additional legal hoops to jump through in order to adapt that aspect of An Unearthly Child.

Image description: Dr. Who, Barbara, Susan and Ian inside TARDIS. There are many wires hanging down and a lot of scientific equipment.

It makes sense, yes, but do I like it? Not especially. In changing Ian and Barbara’s relationship to the Doctor and Susan, the dynamic of the group changes. There was a palpable divide between the teachers and the strange people with their blue box. It created an interesting internal tension because Ian and Barbara weren’t sure how much they could trust the Doctor, who at that point did not much care for them, either. This tension is absent here, with the gang being chummy from the outset. I think this could have been handled better as it’s far less interesting.

In the grand scheme of things though, it’s not that bad. It’s weaker than the original, but the dynamic still works in the context of its own film. What is bad, however, is what’s been done to the characters. I could have named this section ‘Who are you, and what have you done with Ian Chesterton’. Oh, Ian. Poor, poor Ian. It’s not merely that he is different from his television counterpart. That, I could cope with, if his character wasn’t a paper-thin lacklustre hammily-acted dim-witted sad attempt at comic relief.

Image description: Close-up shot of Roy Castle as Ian Chesterton.
The single dignified shot of him in the whole film.

This is not Ian Chesterton. He has the same name but that is literally all he has in common with his television counterpart. Well, unless you count having his legs paralysed by the Daleks. This Ian is just an absolute buffoon, and he stays that way the whole film, apart from one singular moment at the end when he tricks the Daleks. Even if I were to pretend the original didn’t exist, and judge the film purely on its own merits (which I am trying to do, up to a certain point), he would still be a flat, static character.

Image description: Close-up shot of Jennie Linden as Barbara
I swear her hair gets a little bigger every time she goes off-camera.

So, what of Barbara? Well, Barbara’s just sort of…there. She exists. You could cut her out of the film and I don’t believe anything would change. So that’s two strikes, one for bad adaptation, and another for just a bad character in general.

Image description: Close-up shot of Roberta Tovey as Susan.

Which brings us to Susan. Or as she’s usually called in the film, Susie. Susie is an interesting case. When she was first introduced, I confess that I found her quite annoying, as she sounded like she’d swallowed a thesaurus every time she opened her mouth. However I did warm to her as the film went on, as she adapted to her situation and faced every challenge head-on. Despite being younger, she’s a good deal braver than her television counterpart, and that is a change I welcome.

And now for the biggie. Dr. Who. I’m going to be pedantic for a moment. Well, I’m always pedantic, but I’m going to be extra pedantic. I don’t like calling him Dr. Who. Yes, I know it’s the name of the television programme. Yes, I also know that that is the character’s name in the credits. But I think we can all agree that this man is not literally called Dr. Who. It just sounds wrong. Still, I admit there’s no actual concrete reason I can give to explain my disdain for this choice of nomenclature other than ‘I just don’t like it’.

Image description: Close-up shot of Peter Cushing as Dr. Who.

Dr. Who and the Doctor are two markedly different characters. Even now, at his considerably softened state, Hartnell’s Doctor would look prickly as a porcupine next to Cushing’s Doctor Who. If we compare the version of the Doctor who appeared in The Daleks, it's like night and day.

There’s nothing wrong with Cushing’s performance. In fact, he’s very charming and Dr. Who has a likeable and warm personality which will no doubt be immediately endearing to viewers. In fact, I think that’s likely the reason for the change. The Doctor, in his earliest appearances, was not an easy character to like. Grumpy, often selfish, and just plain difficult all around, the original Doctor would not have translated well into his big-screen counterpart. At least, not without forcing through character development so fast it’d give you whiplash to keep the viewers on-side.

Image description: In the foreground, Dr. Who kneels with Alydon and examines some writing on a stone. In the background Barbara, Ian and Susan sit together. Tardis is visible in the distance.

Not faithful enough, or too faithful?

My answer? It's both. Though there are numerous character changes, as noted above, the plot of the film is identical to the plot of the serial. One the one hand, I do appreciate when a film is faithful to the story of its source material. However, this becomes a problem when the entire plot is lifted beat-for-beat from a serial with a total runtime of about 175 minutes and crushing it down to fit an 81-minute film.

There’s no room for the plot to breathe. There’s no room for the thoughtful, meditative conversations on the philosophy of pacifism. The original serial took the time to examine the Thals’ dedication to pacifism, and the process to convince them of the need to challenge the Daleks was long and slow, as you would expect when trying to convince a whole society to cast aside their deepest and most dearly-held belief. Here, the Thals get over the whole pacifism thing in the course of a single scene. It completely flattens them and takes the thoughtfulness out of the conflict, a thoughtfulness which was one of my favourite parts of the original.

In addition, having less time to convey information, this film is heavy on the exposition. Very, very heavy. Daleks have a bad habit of explaining their plans to each other for no reason, but this takes it to a new level. Barely a scene goes by without a character practically grabbing the camera and delivering a lecture on the history of this conflict. It is very tiresome.

Image description: Exterior of the Dalek city. Three Daleks emerge from three doors on a raised platform. Below them, there are bright lights, and four people shield their eyes from them below.

It’s Not All Bad, Though.

No, really. There’s something I can’t complain about and would dearly love to see on television: the production value. The sets for this film don’t require any generous suspension of disbelief to be believable – they just are. Well-designed lighting drenches the petrified forest in an eerie light, giving the area a sickly appearance that makes the Dalek city, by contrast, look warm and welcoming. However, the lighting in the city is stark and harsh, as are the Daleks. The sets are well-made and the colour choices are cohesive and visually pleasing, though I’m not certain that the Daleks would be terribly fond of the colour pink.

The Daleks themselves take full advantage of the upgrade to full-colour, with their shells appearing in a veritable rainbow of hues. Production photos and promotional materials reveal that the original Daleks are surprisingly colourful too, and it would genuinely delight me to see the programme in full colour, should the BBC begin broadcasting in colour within the programme’s lifetime.

Image description: Susan stands under a beam of light midshot, surrounded by 5 Daleks of varying colours. (From left to right: Blue, Red, Black, Blue, Blue.)

I also approve of the much fuller soundtrack of the film, as opposed to the quite sparse use of music in the serials. That said it does veer a little James Bond-ish at times, and I’d rather Dr. Who stayed well away from that sort of thing, thank you very much.

I admire how the serials manage to stretch their budget, but I would love it if the BBC would give the production team more to work with, so that we might bring visual treats like this into our living rooms a bit more often.

It’s not very likely, but a girl can dream.

That said, what on Earth (or Skaro) did they do to the TARDIS?! The interior looks like more of a junkyard than the one from An Unearthly Child. They even did away with the round things on the walls!

Image description: In the foreground there is a lot of scientific equipment and wires dangling from the ceiling. Ian looks into the room through the door of Tardis in the background.
They even got rid of the central console!

Final Thoughts

So, I’ve spent quite a bit of time comparing this film to the serial on which it is based. I had originally told myself, when I set out to write this, that I wouldn’t do that, that I would judge it purely on its own merits. However, having seen how identical it is to the original in many aspects, how could I not put the changes under a magnifying glass?

Adaptation is an inherently transformative process. On that I think we can all agree. The act of transplanting a story from one medium into another is always going to result in changes from the source material. Changes, in and of themselves, are not a bad thing. Take Sherlock Holmes. That’s been adapted to hell and back a thousand times since it was written and will be written to hell and back a thousand times more. Even take the legend of King Arthur. That’s been adapted so many times nobody knows what the original is. The aim with adaptation is not to avoid changes entirely. Changes can be good. They can add complexity to a character, depth to a plot. However, when changes flatten a character, then we have a problem. And additionally a reluctance to change can, as I described earlier, be to the detriment of an adaptation. It’s a delicate matter so perhaps you will forgive me my nitpicking. On the whole, do I think the changes made were justified? No. Dr. Who And The Daleks is a weak, rushed, flat story with flat characters and an abrupt and unsatisfying conclusion.

It might have higher production values and shinier sets, but there is something hollow at the heart of Dr. Who And The Daleks. Something was lost on the way to the big screen, and that’s enough for me to recommend that you steer clear of this film when it premieres. A far better use of your time would be to pick up David Whitaker’s novelisation of The Daleks, which comes out in paperback in October (though there is a hardback version already available, if you can get your hands on it).

As for me, I think I’m getting quite sick of Daleks, and I'm eager to turn my attention back to the Doctor Who we know and love.

1.5 out of 5 stars




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Movies

[April 20, 1965] Less Satanic Than Expected (John Sturges' The Satan Bug)

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by Erica Frank

When I heard about the new movie, The Satan Bug, I was excited. I have a deep interest in the occult and "lunatic fringe" religions, so I was looking forward to something exotic. I expected it'd be a horror movie with no real research behind it, but I hoped for a verse or two of Aleister Crowley's poem, Hymn to Satan, or perhaps a mention of Anton Lavey's occult workshops in San Francisco.

Poster for The Satan Bug with the tagline, Since time began, man has hunted the ultimate evil... now the search is over!
Maybe it involves alchemy? An evil sorcerer's laboratory? Souls extracted from bodies and poured into a beaker?

Alas; it was not to be. Once I saw the trailer, I realized this is not a story about a giant demon-possessed insect, nor is it a hellish romance inspired by Roy Orbison's song, With the Bug. Instead, it's a mystery-thriller centered around a bioengineered killer disease.

Middle-Aged Men in Suits

The story opens in a remote government scientific laboratory with extensive security measures. (Station 3 is "the most secret chemical warfare establishment on this hemisphere," we discover later.) Mr. Reagan (pronounced ree-gan, not ray-gan like the actor from last year's The Killers) is the "Washington guy." He arrives by helicopter and gets checked in at the gate, and the guards know him personally. Doctor Ostrer is just leaving as Reagan arrives, but arranges to speak with him in the morning. Reagan goes through multiple checkpoints inside as well. The actual lab has thick vault doors with a timer at night; there's no way to get in once they shut.

Three doctors are present: Doctor Baxter, who is in charge, Doctor Hoffman, and Doctor Yang. I hoped this wouldn't be a case of "the Asian fellow is the villain" – and it was not! Instead, we see Doctor Yang for less than thirty seconds and he never appears again.

After showing off the security measures for several minutes, we get a moment of suspense: Reagan tells Dr. Baxter that Washington is worried. Doctor Baxter points to the flask on his desk and says, "What they're really worried about is that." Reagan asks him to get some rest, and warns him that mistakes could be worse than deadly here.

Two men talk in a science lab. One of them indicates the red-topped flask on the table in front of him.
We don't yet have a name for the red-topped flask, just the awareness that a very tired scientist is staring at it in frustration.

By morning, although they don't know all of this yet, Reagan is dead, Ostrer is dead, Baxter is dead, several flasks are missing, and they've called in a special investigator: Lee Barrett. He's a former US Intelligence officer who quit because "war had aged him so fast" he felt "too old to play with toys." Barrett is a rebel, an extremely competent man who doesn't cooperate with authority. Coincidentally, he formerly worked at Station 3.

The Handsome Hero

The subterfuge of Barrett's introduction is a delightful lagniappe of a spy-thriller story: To bring him into an active case, first they had to test his loyalty with a fake job from the World Peace Organization: "Deliver this flask of botulinus vaccine–don't ask how we got it–to this address in Europe." Barrett is very clever and immediately spots the scam: Vaccines aren't stored at Station 3 and he personally knows the loathsome fellow who's behind the World Peace Organization.

Once he's established as "loyal, although insubordinate," he's brought to Station 3, where he chats with one of the security guards before looking at the crime scene. This shows that Barrett has true investigator talents: He knows who notices the details that will matter, and he trusts Johnson's judgment.

Barrett talks with his friend Johnson, a Black security guard
Jonhson: "Mr Tasserly says, and Mason, he swears, that nobody got into E Lab. But I don't think Reagan committed suicide in there." Barrett agrees.

Barrett quickly establishes how the murderer escaped, and realizes he must've gotten in through the crates of "lab equipment" that came in yesterday. That means there was inside help, but sorting that out can wait. The real risk is not the lives of the base personnel, but the release of the chemical weapons being developed in E Lab. Dr. Hoffman insists the lab must be destroyed immediately, before opening the vault doors.

Our Villain: A Small Jar

Hoffman first discusses the dangers of the previously mentioned botulinus. He explains, "We have 1200 grams in six flasks. If ten grams of it were allowed to contaminate a city, that city is a morgue in four hours. It is an… ideal weapon, God forgive the phrase, because it destroys only people. And it oxidizes itself, in effect, dies–disappears–after eight hours."

Any persons with medical training should be warned not to laugh, as the music here indicates tension and danger. A virus that vanishes literally overnight cannot reach all the people in a city unless the initial distribution is perfectly and widely dispersed; air does not instantly reach all places in a city. After an initial tragic wave of deaths, people hiding indoors would avoid the rest of the attack. People driving to hospitals might never arrive, and not have the chance to infect anyone else in the few hours they have. It would indeed be a super-weapon, but not the catastrophic one the movie seems to imply.

Such a virus could never happen in nature, as it would kill its host and then die itself. The disease cannot spread by normal routes–eight hours is not a very long contagious period, if it can be spread by bodies. Four hours for spreading via a living host is even less time. 

Barrett points out this means the base is safe; the vault door was closed last night. Dr. Hoffman then reveals a new danger: "It is only three weeks since Doctor Baxter refined it, and only three days since he communicated its existence to anyone." Another chemical weapon, an airborne virus, but unlike botulinus, this one is "self-perpetuating, indestructible," and may last forever. "To this virus," he says, "we have given a highly unscientific name, but one which describes it perfectly: The Satan Bug."

Hoffman continues: "If I took the flask that contained it and exposed it to the air, everyone here would be dead in a few seconds. California would be a tomb in a few hours. In a week, all life, and I mean all life, would cease in the United States. In two months, two months at the most, the trapper in Alaska, the peasant from the Yangtze, the aborigine in Australia–dead. All dead, because I crushed the flask, and exposed a green-colored liquid to the air."

Barret holding the Satan Bug flask while standing in a river.
This must be some newfangled definition of "green" with which I am unfamiliar. But you can still tell it's worse than the other flasks of deadly disease, because the cap is red.

Satan Must Be Anti-Science

At this point, I questioned Dr. Hoffman's medical credentials, because the idea of an airborne virus that would kill all eighteen million people in California in hours is ridiculous. It really doesn't matter how deadly the disease is, nor how resilient: the air just doesn't move that fast.

California spans over a thousand miles from north to south. At five hours–a reasonable estimate of "a few"–the bug would need to travel at 200 mph to cover the state. I don't know where my readers reside, but I assure you: California is not normally wracked by 200-mile-an-hour winds. Perhaps he means "if it started in the middle." In which case, we only need 100 mph winds, which are also exceedingly rare. Or we could say that 20 hours is "a few," but still short enough from a day that he wouldn't use that. To cover 500 miles in 20 hours, the bug needs to travel at 25 mph. Certainly we get winds that fast… but not constantly, and not covering the full length of the state.

Moving on to his claim about a week to cover the entire United States: 2800 miles wide, 168 hours: 16.666 miles per hour. (AHA! There's our Satan reference!) But the wind does not consistently blow at that speed, nor do breezes from one area reach every other part of the country.  Winds from the California coast reach Oklahoma and New York, sometimes quickly – but they hardly get to Montana at all.

Jet stream picture from Palm Sunday, 1965
The Jetstream on April 11, showing the cause of one of the worst tornado incidents in history: 12 tornadoes touched down in 4 hours; over 50 people were killed and several hundred injured.

Danger! Action! Gunshots! (but no blood)

Having established the extreme danger, our hero Barrett (you know he's the hero; he's younger and better-looking than all the other men in the movie) volunteers to go into the lab to find if there's a spill. He makes sure the other men are armed and ready to shoot him if he is exposed. How they're going to kill him and close the glass doors if the disease kills "in seconds," I don't know. But it doesn't matter, because of course the disease has not been spilled in the lab; it's been stolen. They identify the mastermind behind the theft as a Mr. Ainsley, a mysterious wealthy man who vanished several months ago.

Thus begins the chase-and-action portion of the film: tracking down leads, car chases, abductions, and a hint of romance. (An old friend of Barrett's shows up; she sometimes has a useful suggestion, but mostly serves to give him someone to explain what he's figured out.) One flask of botulinus is rigged with a bomb, somewhere in Los Angeles. The men assigned to help Barrett mostly die, because he is faster, smarter, and luckier than they are. Ainsley's goons assigned to kill Barrett mostly die, for the same reasons. The red-topped flask changes hands a few times, but every time Barrett or his allies get it, the villains quickly recover it.


How to search a baseball stadium for a bomb: assign one cop per row and have them walk through the seats. Also, you check the results by yelling, because nobody carries a radio on a search.

At one point, Barrett, his girlfriend, and a couple of lawmen are captured. I have no idea why they're not all immediately killed–the goal is to release a virus that kills thousands nearly instantly with the threat of killing millions as leverage… why would they hesitate at killing a small handful of people who might escape to undermine their plans? You'd think that an evil mastermind would find less squeamish goons.

Does Everyone Die?

As one might expect, the plans are foiled. Ainsley is revealed to be Someone We've Known All Along, and there is an energetic fight scene for control of the deadly flask. This takes place in an out-of-control helicopter, with both people and the flask at risk of falling over Los Angeles. Our hero prevails! (I hope I haven't spoiled the ending for you, but he really is just too pretty to die by an evil plot.) Of course he knows how to fly a helicopter (he admits he's "a little rusty") so, he heads off to LAX to be reunited with his team.

Autopsy Report

In the end, while there's nothing particularly wrong with this film, there's nothing outstanding about it either. The science at its core is deeply flawed, reduced to being a plot gimmick instead of anything an educated person could believe possible. The cast is: one handsome hero; one good-looking ladyfriend; a swarm of distinguished white guys in suits (the cops/federal agents); a swarm of somewhat-ugly white guys in casual clothes (the goons); a sparse handful of non-white people who mention a few details and then vanish; one villain who's pretending to be one of the good guys. None of them is unique or even memorable. The plot is so simple that there's no room for nuance: if the hero succeeds, all is well; if he fails, all human life will be destroyed. 

The poster lies: this is not about "the ultimate evil." There is no evil at all in the "Satan bug" itself; it's a mindless organism with no motivation of any sort. All the evil is in the men trying to use it for gain… and they don't fail due to incompetence or greed. Good triumphs, evil fails–because "good" happens to include the former special ops agent with a law degree who can take over a helicopter in mid-flight and safely land it. This is not a lesson about the folly of evil; it's a lesson that talented, handsome heroes can beat aging, sour-faced villains.

If you enjoy this kind of action-thriller with the barest hint of science fiction, this movie won't disappoint. The acting is good, if a bit emotionless (these are stoic government agents, for the most part); the settings realistic; the action well-paced. But if this is not your normal fare, it won't convince you to seek out similar films.

Three stars out of five.

Our last two Journey shows were a gas!  You can watch the kinescope reruns here).  You don't want to miss the next episode, April 25 at 1PM PDT featuring flautist Acacia Weber as the special musical guest.





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Movies

[April 8, 1965] Twisted but Classy (Mario Bava's "Blood and Black Lace")

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By Rosemary Benton

I’ll be the first to admit that my tastes do not run toward mysteries. I much prefer modern science fiction with its hopefulness and cautious approach to new realms of science. Horror, either written or filmed, has likewise fascinated me. But unlike science fiction's surety that logic can always triumph, horror focuses on the deep human fear of things unknown and mysterious.

Thrillers are a territory that I'm developing a growing appreciation for due to their usually modern setting with heavy horror elements. As such, when I heard about the new Mario Bava film "Blood and Black Lace" I thought I would give it a look. Not being one to pay much heed to what magazine or newspaper critics have to say about horror films, I thought I would go ahead and check it out. Now having seen it, I wonder if I should have taken the critics more seriously.

"Blood and Black Lace"

The film opens upon the glamorous life of the people working within a successful avant garde Italian fashion house. In short order one of the models is strangled by a faceless masked killer. Upon her death one of her coworkers discovers the victim's diary. In short order the killer returns to take out one model after another as the diary switches hands and the knowledge held within it comes to light.

Despite leading charmed lives, each victim of the killer is revealed to have been involved in one way or another with drug addictions, infidelity, scandal and extortion. All of which ties back to the records within the diary. Ultimately the identity of the killer is revealed upon completion of their grisly work. But it soon becomes apparent that in order to cover their tracks the killer's work is not done yet. At the end the final murder proves to be their undoing when the most jealously guarded manipulation comes to light.

Initial Thoughts

"Blood and Black Lace" is a windy road of secrets and twisted loyalties. The mystery element of the plot is very entertaining to watch as it unfolds, but unfortunately there are a few things that made the film nearly impossible to finish. Put simply, the acting is so good and cinematography so dramatic that it makes the violence very disturbing to take in.

The brutal beatings rained down on the female victims are all uncomfortably real looking (with the exception of one suffocation death that is acted and shot in a way that makes the victim’s writhing weirdly sexual). One expects there to be struggling as the masked killer corners each of the models and proceeds to dispatch them in different ways, but the camera time given to each death is obscene.

The sexualization of each victim before and after their death is likewise unsettling. Clothing is ripped open to expose undergarments, and bodies are dragged away with lingering looks at long legs and breasts. Worst of all is the suspenseful buildup in several deathblows. During the murders of house models Nicole and Peggy the camera zooms in on the slow approach of the murder instrument before the frightened victim is killed.

It's effective, but even I, horror film connoisseur that I am, thought that this was a bit much. It's frightening, but that kind of violence taken with so much anticipation and pleasure by the killer slides well into the realm of just being gross.

Why? Why is any of this necessary artistically or plot-wise? Extremely violent eroticism with dramatic execution was my conclusion. Is this something new in horror? Well, not really. It's new to see Italian filmmakers taking a crack at the thriller film category, but Germany has long been producing adaptations of mysteries and pulp thrillers.

The works of Edgar Wallace, Agatha Christie, and Erle Stanley Gardner all contain a potent mix of scandal, sex, drugs and murder. Understandably, this scintillating content could very easily be adapted to film. Although virtually unknown in the U.S, the studio Rialto Film has been churning out film adaptations of Edgar Wallace's works for years now.

"Blood and Black Lace" is no mere sleazy mystery/thriller story, however. Mario Bava, perhaps looking to outdo himself following "The Girl Who Knew Too Much" (1963), really stepped up the psychologically twisted elements in this film. With each new movie of his, the thrill of seeing beautiful guilty women "pay" for their misdeeds with a kind of vigilante justice seems to be a common element. It’s an element that, I hope, has a limited appeal.

The Mario Bava Method

What did Mario Bava hope to achieve in this film? The deep dive Bava takes into the psychological camera work is admittedly astounding. His experience as a cinematographer is undeniable. The panoramas of beautiful architecture and the creative closeups and camera angles show far more suspense than mere dialogue could ever achieve. The vibrant neon lighting and clever placement of artwork and statues helps the audience to really feel the fear and anxiety of the characters.

Bava has shown a distinct flair as a writer, director and cinematographer who can bring new life to a project that either due to budget or well-trodden story, could be mired in mediocrity. In his directorial debut "Black Sunday" (1960), his ability to bring together his experience as a cinematographer and writer resulted in a unique gothic vampire story. Despite its critical success, the special effect and violence of the film actually got it banned in several countries. Clearly Bava's controversial love affair with gore is not anything new.

I hesitate to describe "Blood and Black Lace" as a revolutionary addition to the horror genre because the violence that advances it in the genre unfortunately also works against it. Thankfully "Blood and Black Lace" has more than that to offer as an example of modern horror film. Its modern setting, contemporary high fashion aesthetic, and refreshingly riveting musical score all speak to progress away from the stale hallmarks of recent horror films. It is a stark departure from the horror themes which have dominated theaters in the last half century.

In Conclusion

"Blood and Black Lace" demonstrates an advanced approach to camera work and lighting that push it beyond the flat panoramas and muted colors of most other horror films that have made their way to American theaters. This movie is certainly not your grandparent's book-to-film adaptation of a Victorian melodrama. As a sensory experience Mario Bava's "Blood and Black Lace" is exceptional. It grips its audience and pulls them along until the very end. The escalation of Bava's focus of violence against women is deeply troubling though. Is it cheap thrills or thoughtful social commentary that spur someone like Bava on? Only continued analysis of Bava's future films will tell.

We had so much success with our first episode of The Journey Show (you can watch the kinescope rerun; check local listings for details) that we're going to have another one on April 11 at 1PM PDT with The Young Traveler as the special musical guest.  As the kids say, be there or be square!

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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[March 6, 1965] Breaking Up Is Hard To Do (Crack in the World and Other Planet-Destroying Movies)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Start With an Earthquake and Build to a Climax

The above phrase, or some variation on it, has been attributed to Samuel Goldwyn, although this is almost certainly apocryphal. In any case, it represents the interest Hollywood has long had in depicting disasters on the silver screen. Sometimes these have been recreations of historic events, from San Francisco (1936, the 1906 earthquake) to In Old Chicago (1938, the 1871 fire) to A Night to Remember (1958, the sinking of the Titanic.) Watch for these on the Late, Late Show.

Here in the Atomic Age, it seems that fear of the Bomb has replaced some of the fear of Nature. Going back at least as far as Five (1951), films dealing with nuclear disasters have filled the theaters and drives-ins for quite a while now. There are far too many of these to discuss in any detail, from low-budget quickies full of folks in rubber suits pretending to be monsters, to sober and serious dramas. The best of these have been the topics of full articles by Galactic Journeyers, so I direct you to the archives for more information.

Humanity gets wiped out, or at least reduced to very few, in most of these apocalyptic flicks.  But what about those in which the entire planet Earth is threatened with destruction?  I can only think of a few.


Read the book!

Based on the 1933 novel by Philip Wylie and Edwin Balmer, George Pal's 1951 production of When Worlds Collide dealt with a wandering star on its way to crash into Earth, and the effort to build spaceships to carry a few survivors to the star's only planet. (They sure were lucky that it turned out to be habitable.)


See the movie!

It was a handsome production, winning an Oscar for special effects and nominated for cinematography.


Nifty spaceship. Looks like an Astounding cover, doesn't it?


See the movie; there isn't any book.

1961's The Day the Earth Caught Fire was a British production. Filmed in black-and-white on a modest budget, it depicted the effect that simultaneous nuclear bomb tests by the United States and the Soviet Union had on Earth's orbit, tilting it on its axis and sending it spiraling into the Sun.


Some scenes were tinted to suggest the devastating heat.

An unusually realistic portrait of the possible end of the world, with an ambiguous ending, I found it made for compelling viewing.

Will the latest entry in this small group of Earth-In-Peril films prove as exciting as its trailer suggests? Let's find out.

Dig We Must


All this destruction going on, and Dana Andrews is making a phone call.

The plot of the new movie Crack in the World seems to have been inspired by Project Mohole, so a brief review of that troubled effort to reach deep into the Earth is in order.

First proposed in 1957, Phase 1 of this mighty engineering project got started in 1961. Five holes were drilled at the bottom of the sea off the coast of Baja California, the deepest about six hundred feet below the ocean floor. (You have to consider the fact that these holes start about twelve thousand feet below the surface of the water.)


You can see from this diagram why it makes sense to drill from the bottom of the ocean rather than from the land.

The rumor mill has it that there's a lot of controversy over the multiple scientific, political, and economic factors involved in moving on to Phase 2. Eventually, Phase 3 of the project is supposed to achieve the ultimate goal of reaching the Mohorovičić discontinuity, which is the boundary between the Earth's crust and the mantle. (It's named for the Croatian seismologist Andrija Mohorovičić. No wonder most folks call it the Moho layer.) It's too early to tell how low things will go.

The Core of the Problem


The opening title, in cracked letters.

Project Inner Space, our cinematic version of Project Mohole, begins on land rather than at sea. A brief scene of warriors carrying spears and shields establishes the fact that we're in Africa. We'll find out later that the location is Tanganyika. (That former nation only joined with Zanzibar to form Tanzania last year, so I'll cut the filmmakers some slack on the misnomer.)


It's hard to see here, but that scaffolding contains a rocket pointed down into the Earth.

A jeep carrying people of many different ethnicities and accents arrives at the site. They're here to talk to the head of the project, who needs their approval for his ambitious plan.


Dana Andrews as Doctor Stephen Sorenson.

You see, Project Inner Space is a lot more ambitious than Project Moho. Its goal is to reach all the way down to the Earth's core, so that the magma can be used as a virtually limitless supply of energy and raw materials. Since the Moho discontinuity is twenty-odd miles below the surface of the land (something less than five miles if you go under the sea) and the core is about eighteen hundred miles down, you can see that Moho is really small potatoes compared to Inner Space.

Doctor Stephen Sorenson (American actor Dana Andrews, leading man of the 1940's and 1950's, perhaps best known to most moviegoers for The Best Years of Our Lives, but familiar to horror film buffs for Curse of the Demon) wants the committee in charge of the political side of the project to give the OK to shoot an atomic bomb down into the Earth. (He's already got a rocket set up to deliver the thing, so it's obvious he expects to win them over to his side.)


On the right is Kieron Moore as Doctor Ted Rampion.

Stephen has a very strong sense that his notion of using an A-bomb is safe, but he's honest enough to admit that a fellow scientist, Doctor Ted Rampion (Irish actor Kieron Moore, best known to SF fans for appearing in The Day of the Triffids, and familiar to me for having the lead role in Doctor Blood's Coffin) opposes him. Ted thinks the massive explosion might create a crack in the world, leading to massive destruction. Well, given the title of the movie, you can guess who's right.


Janette Scott as Doctor Maggie Sorenson.

Complicating matters is the fact that Doctor Maggie Sorenson (British actress Janette Scott, also in The Day of the Triffids, and known to me from the psychological shocker Paranoiac), Stephen's wife and fellow scientist, was formerly in a relationship with Ted. Adding to this soap opera subplot is the fact that Stephen has a terminal illness that he is hiding from everyone, even his wife.

Stephen gets the go-ahead from his bosses, and the atomic bomb is rocketed deep into the Earth. The resulting explosion destroys the scaffolding and releases a fountain of magma. Everything seems just fine, but since we've still got about an hour of running time left, you know it's not going to be that easy.

Reports of massive earthquakes and tidal waves indicate that, yes, we've got a crack in the world. It's racing across the globe, too, threatening to rip the planet apart. Desperate to save Earth from total destruction, Ted and the other scientists attempt to stop the progress of the crack by dropping another nuclear bomb into the heart of an active volcano on an island.


Inside the volcano

Because the bomb has to be guided into the volcano by hand, requiring two people in spacesuits to descend with it, this is a particularly tense scene. (It's not a big surprise that Ted, our hero, is one of the two.) The device is dropped into the molten lava successfully, and triggered from a safe distance.


A nice little detail is the fact that the scientists carefully record all this.

Unfortunately, this doesn't halt the crack, but only reverses its direction. It looks like it will head back in the general direction of Project Inner Space, threatening to link up with itself and send a chunk of the planet off into space.

Scenes of massive destruction follow, portrayed through stock footage and some really good miniature effects. A railroad disaster, done with models, is particularly convincing.


The crack is approaching the doomed train from behind the bridge.

Will Earth survive? Will any of our three lead actors survive?


This scene may give you a hint.

Worth Digging Up?

The science in this movie may be questionable — there's an amusing moment when Doctor Maggie Sorenson, who should know better, pronounces the word seismograph as SEIZE-mograph — but overall I found it entertaining. The visual effects are quite good, and the story (written by Jon Manchip White and Julian Halevy, directed by Andrew Marton) is never stupid, even if it's implausible and clichéd at times.

I like the fact that Project Inner Space is truly an international effort, and that the scientists generally act like scientists. The sets look like places people could really work.

I also appreciated the fact that Doctor Stephen Sorenson isn't a megalomaniac, but simply a man who makes a terrible mistake, and does everything he can to correct it.

Four stars. I dug it.




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Magazine, Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 24, 1965] A New Beginning… New Worlds and Science Fantasy Magazine, January/February 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

As I mentioned last month, I now am in the fortunate position of getting two British magazines a month. Both New Worlds and Science Fantasy have returned to monthly issues after being published in alternate months throughout most of 1964.

This doesn’t leave much time for other things this month. However, I can’t resist one update. Since our last article I have had to bite the bullet due to familial pressure and have been dragged along to the cinema to see the 170 minute epic that is My Fair Lady. Given my reluctance about musicals, I must admit, albeit quietly, that it wasn’t bad. Whilst I could make derogatory comments about Rex Harrison’s ‘singing’, Audrey Hepburn was quite charming. It’ll never make me want to see more musicals by choice, but it was tolerable.

And I must admit that it did relieve the sense of gloom that seems to have descended on the country following the sad news of Sir Winston Churchill's death.  Moving on..

The First Issue At Hand

So: which magazine arrived first? The winner was the January/February 1965 issue of Science Fantasy.


The Editor is particularly pleased to point out that Keith Roberts, who seems to be our current favourite, will return with another Anita story next month (although the back cover tells us that it will be this month!)


Back Cover. Notice anything wrong?

Multi-talented Mr. Roberts is also who we blame for this month’s rather obtuse cover art for the story Present From the Past.

To the stories themselves.

Present From the Past, by Douglas Davis

This is, to quote the editor from the Editorial, “a new twist on the time safari”. Doctor Messenger, palaeontologist, is transported by the Chronotransporter Research Department in a one-man machine to the Triassic to do research. Unsurprisingly, having been warned to be careful, things go wrong. This is a good old-fashioned adventure tale of Man against the dinosaurs. The descriptions of the landscape and the dinosaurs are vivid and suggest that this would make the start of a good movie, although despite the editor’s protestations, really is nothing that different from the sort of pulp story published in the 1930’s. It ends weakly and feels like there should be more, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but therefore doesn’t feel like a story with a point. 3 out of 5.

The Empathy Machine, by Langdon Jones

Not content with being the Assistant Editor over at New Worlds, here we have the latest story from Langdon Jones, the writer. As we might expect, it is odd story, one that seems to be an internalised fever dream by Henry Ronson, a man who has the urge to kill his frigid wife whilst on holiday on Mars. The story takes an odd turn when Ronson damages the wall screen in frustration at the incessant advertising that he is bombarded by and is then beaten up by the police who arrive to investigate. The next day Ronson and his wife discover a strange Martian building, which on entrance shows Henry life from the perspective of his wife. And guess what – she wants to kill him as well! Now having empathy for each other they kiss and make up (I presume).

Really though, this is a salutary tale on the need for partners to communicate with each other – as well as point out the maddening impact of constant advertising! It just reads strangely to me, an uneven attempt to combine the mysticism of Ray Bradbury with the angst of J G Ballard, which doesn’t work, although the effort is appreciated. 3 out of 5.

Harvest, by Johnny Byrne

And here’s the return of the writer of appropriately weird stories, Johnny Byrne, last seen in the September – October 1964 issue. Harvest has a similarly odd, disjointed tone to the Langdon Jones story, telling of characters who seem to be living in a post-apocalyptic place. It is odder than Langdon Jones’s story, and whilst I liked the lyrical nature of the prose, not really for me. 2 out of 5.

Petros, by Philip Wordley

A new writer to me. The title evokes a sense that it is something akin to Burnett-Swann’s re-imagining of Grecian myths, but instead it is  another story that shows us that post-Armageddon life is bad. This time the Plenipotentiary of the Kingdom of Christ on Earth appears to be living in (another) post-apocalyptic world surrounded by what appear to be Mafia gangsters transported to Britain. This was easier to understand than Johnny Byrne’s story, but as yet another tale about the enduring importance of religion in difficult circumstances (a common theme in the magazines in the last few months!) it left me strangely unmoved. 3 out of 5.

Flight of Fancy, by Keith Roberts

Another story from Science Fantasy’s current flavour of the month – he appears later in the issue as well. It helps that I generally like Keith’s writing, although this very short story is underwhelming. Flight of Fancy is a minor tale that tries to use humour to tell us how science could become unimportant in a future where science has allowed civilisation to be bombed back to a more primitive level. 3 out of 5.

Only the Best, by Patricia Hocknell
A new writer. This is a short story that is a variant of the adage “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” A marvellous new invention that appears from who-knows-where has negative consequences. Even if I accepted the point that “Washing clothes can be fun”, there were issues with the story for me. I think that it’s meant to be funny but comes across as both silly and creepy. It’s OK, but is a one-point tale. 2 out of 5.

The Island, by Roger Jones

Another new writer. A fairly unpleasant tale of how three characters named Erg, Rastrick and Minus spend their time surviving on some island of the future. It’s all rather grim and depressing, not helped by some rather dreadful people. There’s a weak attempt to develop a sense of mystery – what did Erg see Rastrick doing in the copse on the island? – but the solution is pretty unremarkable. With such misery, the ending is a bit of a relief, but I did wonder what was the point at the end. A story intended to score on its shock value, I believe, but just comes across as unremittingly bleak. 2 out of 5.

The Typewriter, by Alistair Bevan

Here’s the second story in this issue by Keith Roberts this issue, albeit written under the name of one of his pseudonyms. After all that unrelenting misery of The Island, here’s a lighter tale, telling us of what happens to Henry Albert Tailor, the creator of ‘Flush Hardman’, an action hero whose similarity to the overheated exploits of James Bond is surely just a coincidence. There’s a touch of The Twilight Zone here when the author’s typewriter seems to have a mind of its own and is perhaps more the creator of the popular stories than Henry realises. It’s silly but quite fun and not nearly as jarring as some of the other stories in this issue have been. 4 out of 5.

The Blue Monkeys (part 3), by Thomas Burnett Swann

The last part of this serial is as good as its previous parts. Here we discover what happens when Ajax attacks Eunostos the Minotaur’s home in an attempt to retrieve our two wayward teenagers Thea and Icarus, although really, it’s about Ajax trying to get Thea, having being spurned before, and, to quote the story, “ravish her”. Much of the first part of this month's serial deals dramatically with the battle between Ajax and the beasts of the forest, which is very well done. The last part of the tale is surprisingly elegiac with an unexpectedly delightful bitter-sweet ending.

I am surprised how much I have enjoyed this story. I might even go as far as to say that for me this is one of the best serials I have read in years. 4 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Bit of a mixture this issue. It’s not bad, but at the same time not the best issue I’ve read. Nothing really stands out other than the Burnett Swann serial. Overall it feels a bit depressing and downbeat. More worryingly, we seem to be repeating the same ideas over and over, things that are variations on what we’ve read before. I’m getting a bit fed up of bleak post-apocalyptic tales for one. In summary though, this is an eclectic mixture of the good and the downright odd, and I suspect that the range will elicit a range of responses.

The Second Issue At Hand

And so, hoping for a more positive experience, I turned to the February 1965 New Worlds. Last month’s issue was a cracker, so I was keen to read this one.


Cover by Jakubowicz

Whereas I’ve noticed both of the Editors stamp their personalities in the two magazines lately, New Worlds’s editorial this month is more of a news summary than an actual Editorial.

Both Moorcock and Bonfiglioli have used the space in the past to put forward a particular view, like say John W. Campbell in Analog, but instead the New Worlds Editorial this month appears to be a perfunctory one about what is going on in the genre scene around Britain. There's some things that are good to know, but with the resultant loss of identity, I suspect that this is less Moorcock’s handiwork and perhaps more by Assistant Editor Langdon Jones.

The most exciting thing mentioned this month is that Britain will host a World Convention for only the second time, in August in Mayfair, London. The Guest of Honour will be Brian W. Aldiss, which all sounds very thrilling.

The Power of Y (part 2), by Arthur Sellings

The second and final part of this story turns all James Bond-ian, with Max Afford’s revelation last month of a big conspiracy – that (warning: plot revelation ahead!) the President of the Federated States of Europe is a Plied copy, and only he can tell! No reason for this new skill is ever given, incidentally, but it’s not really relevant to the bigger picture. The last part of this story continues the idea that someone is covering up what happened, and this includes getting rid of the inventors of the Plying method and Max rescuing the copied President. It is an excitingly written, fast-paced tale that had a great twist in the end that managed to actually tie things up – I wish I could say that for every story I read in these magazines!


Oh look- more rubbish artwork!

Despite the artwork, I am very pleased with this one overall, one of the few serials in New Worlds I’ve really liked over the past year or so. 4 out of 5.

More Than A Man, by John Baxter

Although this follows a similar theme to Sellings’ story of secret identity, this is a rather old-fashioned story. It’s an adventure tale, combining Galactic Empires (not the first time we’ll hear of those this month!) and spymanship, as Graves and Bailey travel the Galaxy servicing robots that have been placed in key positions of power in an ongoing covert war. Think of it as a Space Opera version of Rudyard Kipling’s Empirical adventure Kim mixed up with Asimov’s Robotics stories. Australian John Baxter (last seen in Science Fantasy last April) tells us an exciting yet perfunctory tale. It’s fun and I enjoyed it a lot, but it is nothing that would be out of place from the magazines of the 1950’s. 3 out of 5.

When the Sky Falls, by John Hamilton

The second of our stories involving someone named John this month is another story examining religion, a topic I’m heartily sick of, to be honest. But I can’t deny that it’s a weighty topic, even when this story is brief, and one that many seem happy to examine through the auspices of a science fiction magazine. As the title suggests, this is a tale of Armageddon and what happens when the day of judgement arrives. For such a momentous event there’s nothing particularly notable about it. 2 out of 5.


This is better! Artwork by James Cawthorn

The Singular Quest of Martin Borg, by George Collyn

This lengthy tale treads a similar path to Mr. Collyn’s last story, Mixup, in the November-December 1964 issue, as it is a parody. It is undoubtedly hyper-enthusiastic, telling of how Martin Borg came to be. It is a story with everything thrown in, deliberately using the purpliest of pulp prose to flit across science-fictional ideas of Cosmic Minds, matter transference and Galactic Empires, as we are told of Martin’s odd parentage and ensuing education and growth.

As a result, it varies wildly from parts that hit their target well to other sections that are just over-excitedly silly. It is rather amusing to have this parody of Asimov’s robotics and Galactic Empire stories alongside John Baxter’s more straightforward version earlier in the magazine. Which, in itself, is a point, I guess. I liked some of it, but at the same time I’m a tad uncomfortable with a story that makes a joke out of rape. 3 out of 5.

The Mountain, by James Colvin

Moorcock’s latest under his nom de plume is a story of two men in (another) post-apocalyptic environment who are in Swedish Lappland on the trail of a young woman. As the story progresses the purpose of the plot changes from trying to meet the young girl to surviving climbing a mountain. It’s really all about the need for human challenge. There’s some nice musing on time and place and Man’s insignificance in all of this, but it is a story with limited potential and the now inevitable dour conclusion. 3 out of 5.

Box, by Richard Wilson

A strange tale of Harry McCann, whose existence is in the latest space saving economy,  a 7 x 7 x 5 feet box. Eating, sleeping and basically living his life as an artist & illustrator is all contained in this restricted space. It sounds unlikely but this story of a future with no physical human contact gets its message across without becoming tedious. 3 out of 5.

Articles

I suspect partly inspired by the new critical magazine SF Horizons, mentioned last month, Moorcock seems to be reintroducing more reviews and literary criticism than we’ve seen for a while. There’s an increased amount of articles this month, scattered through the magazine.

Biological Electricity attempts to do what the Good Doctor Asimov does so much better in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. This short article looks at how electricity generated spontaneously by living creatures could be used in the future. It’s informative but not as accessible as your American equivalent.

Can Spacemen Live With Their Illusions? is an article that shows us how space exploration may be hampered by the psychological as well as the physical effects on the intrepid travellers dealing with a new environment.

Book Reviews

In terms of Books this month, Mike Moorcock as James Colvin reviews The Worlds of Science Fiction by Robert P. Mills, and Introducing SF by the already mentioned soon-to-be-Worldcon-Guest-of-Honour Brian W. Aldiss. Brief mention is also made of Harry Harrison's The Ethical Engineer, The Paper Dolls by L. P. Davies, Galouye's The Last Leap and John Lymington's The Sleep Eaters as well as the reissue of some classic horror novels.

We also have a number of more in-depth reviews. James Colvin (remember him?) writes another celebratory review of Burroughs – that’s William S., not Edgar Rice – this time for his novel The Naked Lunch. At 42 shillings, though – nearly three times the price of an average hardback book – you've got to have some serious money to take the plunge.

Newcomer Alan Forrest pens an enthusiastic essay entitled Did Elric Die in Vain? about Mike Moorcock’s Fantasy character Elric (who was once a staple of Science Fantasy, now seemingly transferred over to New Worlds) in the novel Stormbringer and Hilary Bailey (aka Mrs Mike Moorcock) reviews Who? by Algis Budrys, summarised nicely by its title, Hardly SF.

No ratings this month but there is news that the next issue will include a JG Ballard story. Hurrah!

Summing up New Worlds

New Worlds is an eclectic mixture this month and there are signs that Moorcock is making his own stamp on the magazine. The addition of factual science articles and more literary reviews reflect this, and it must be said that the expansion of literary criticism has been one of Mike’s intentions since he took over as Editor. It’ll be interesting to see how the regular readers respond to it.

By including such material of course means that there’s less space for fiction, and I suspect that whilst that might ease Moorcock’s load a little – he is writing and editing a fair bit of it, after all – it may not sit well with readers. But then we are now monthly…

Summing up overall

Both issues read this month are pretty strong. I enjoyed the eclecticism of New Worlds, whilst Science Fantasy had some of the best stories amongst the less endearing. Consequently, both score well, but for different reasons. However, in this battle of the magazines I declare New Worlds the winner for me this month.

And that’s it for this time. Until the next…

[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…]

mall>

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Magazine, Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial, TV

[December 29, 1964] Be Ye All of Good Cheer… New Worlds, January 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

I hope Christmas for you was a good one. Christmas was good to me in that I received a copy of Charles L. Harness’s The Paradox Men. So far I’m really enjoying it as an over the top Space Opera. Why has it taken so long to be published here in Britain, though?

More good cheer: this month’s New Worlds editorial begins with a loud “Hurrah!”, announcing that both New Worlds and Science Fantasy are to return to monthly publication in 1965.

This is wonderful news for both New Worlds and Science Fantasy. Clearly the increased readership has paid dividends on both counts. Let’s hope this continues. More on this particular issue later.

News-wise, politics has been on its Christmas break. So not a lot to particularly report there.

The contest for the Number 1 single slot is always competitive, but Brits have a particular obsession for the Christmas Number 1 single. This year that enviable position was held by (unsurprisingly) The Beatles with another catchy tune – I Feel Fine.

Music-wise, most of the year’s reviews seem to have focused on the global domination of our Fab Four as they travel the world, permanently surrounded by screaming teenagers. Not only having the British Christmas single, they will also be pleased to know that their single Can’t Buy Me Love, is the single to have spent longest as Number 1 for a majestic 3 weeks, back in March and April. More seriously, it really has been their year and I can see 1965 carrying on in much the same way.

At the cinema I am pleased to write that I enjoyed our Christmas movie,  Father Goose, starring Cary Grant. A rather comedic role with a feel-good family tone. It’s not Cary's best, but it was pleasant enough. And in the middle of Winter, pleasantly tropical.

But be warned – My Fair Lady is due at the end of January. I know that you’ve had to endure this film already in the US – all 170 minutes of it – and the reviews have been quite good, but I still haven’t managed to come up with an excuse of sufficient importance to avoid it. Can I claim that I’m much too busy reporting to you to go? I doubt it, sadly. I may have to bow to the inevitable.

On a more positive note, on the television I am enjoying the latest Doctor Who, which seems to be regaining its confidence after a couple of so-so episodes, and hopefully that upswing should continue in 1965. Jessica’s already mentioned this, but the latest Dalek episodes are in my opinion the most enjoyable series yet.

The Issue At Hand

cover by Robert J. Tilley

This month’s cover shows that, as hinted at last issue, circles are ‘in’.

Personally, I still yearn for art with some detail, but am resigned to the current vogue, whilst at least appreciating that, despite being crude and simple, it’s still not as bad as Carnell’s last issues.

The Editorial, as shown earlier, is pleasingly upbeat. It is akin to a state of the nation address, showing us where we are in the current state of things artistic and literary. There’s mention of a new critical magazine edited by Messrs Aldiss and Harrison, which sounds intriguing.

To the stories themselves.

The Power of Y (part 1), by Arthur Sellings

The triumphant tone hangs over to this first part of a serial by Arthur Sellings, who is highlighted in the Editorial for producing “stories of a consistently high standard since he began writing.” To me this does sound a little like faint praise, though I must admit that the serial is one of the most enjoyable I’ve read for a while. Max Afford is an art dealer in a world where Transdimensional Multiplying, or Plying, allows an object such as a painting or a car to be borrowed from multiple universes. You want the original Mona Lisa? You can borrow it and have it in your home, for a price.  There are limits, however. It is a very expensive process and an object can only be plied to a maximum of twenty copies. Plying living objects, such as a beloved pet, is seen as impossible.

This is an intriguing concept, but one that becomes more complicated when Max suddenly finds that he can tell the difference between plied objects and the original simply by touching them.  The story then ends on a cliff-hanger involving the President of the Federated States of Europe.

It’s all written in a deceptively chatty style that Heinlein is so good at, a combination of charming bonhomie and sly digs at both the establishment and the world of art – although Sellings is clearly an author the editor Mike Moorcock prefers. Nevertheless, it read well and was entertaining, and most of all I’m intrigued to see where this one goes. The most negative thing I could find about it was the awfully childish art throughout the prose! A great start. 4 out of 5.


Childish art? I rest my case, m'lud. But perhaps it's intentional irony in a story about art…

The Sailor in the Western Stars , by Bob Parkinson

A debut author. You can tell from the artwork at the beginning that this is a story retold as if it were ancient myth, a folk-tale rather like a science-fictional Arabian Nights. I liked the romantic tone of this, that the main character is some sort of wandering pirate-trader destined to sail across space. It’s similar to Bertram Chandler’s Rim stories or even Poul Anderson’s David Falkayn /Star Trader stories, but deliberately more lyrical and enigmatic. Behind the poetic sheen there’s not a lot going on, admittedly, but I remembered it more than many stories. File under “Interesting”. It’s nicely done, but fairly inconsequential. 4 out of 5.

Tunnel of Love, by Joseph Green

And here’s the return of Moorcock’s friend, Joseph Green, after Single Combat in the July-August 1964 issue. The title suggests a cheap fairground ride, but it is actually an ethnologic study with a creepy twist. Two young graduates, realising a way to make money, attempt to make a movie on Procyon Nine, a planet known for its beautiful people but whose strict moral code is that visitors do not seduce them. The twist is that the would-be suitors of the girls have, as a rite of passage, to crawl through an interdimensional portal that connects Procyon Nine to the nuptial bed! This is not quite as outré as it sounds and there’s a big old twist at the end. I found it better than I thought it was going to be, an adventure story that also made me think of it as a raunchier take on Chad Oliver’s themes. 3 out of 5.

There’s A Starman in Ward 7, by David Rome

And now something a bit darker. Very pleased to see the return of this writer, last seen in the August 1963 of New Worlds. As far as the New Wave type stories go, this is actually one I liked.

It is the story of a psychotic murderer who is locked up in an insane asylum and who claims to have been in a ward with a new inmate – a Starman from Alpha Centauri. It’s written in a deliberately disjointed and irrational manner and is filled with those stylistic typing patterns and fragmented streams of consciousness that you may remember in Alfred Bester’s work. It is something that the New Wavers should love – and for a change, I also liked. Unlike most stories that try this technique I found that David’s story doesn’t lose its purpose or its narrative thread along the way.  4 out of 5.

Election Campaign, by Thom Keyes

Oh-oh. Here’s the return of Thom Keyes, whose last story, Period of Gestation, was in the September – October 1964 issue of Science Fantasy.  I really didn’t like it. But actually, Election Campaign is a more straightforward tale than I thought it was going to be. General Aldheyer is sent on a mission to secure the votes for the General Dynamics Party of an obscure and out of the way colony. Unfortunately, the brain-in-a-box space pilot malfunctions on the way and the only solution is to create a replacement pilot. Consequently, Aldheyer’s brain is transplanted into the ship.  There’s a lengthy description of the surgical process and the story ends with the spaceship’s arrival on the planet to begin its electoral campaign.

After our recent change of government, this story is perhaps surprisingly topical. Some politicians will do almost anything for power! I must admit that this was more enjoyable than Keyes’ last story, but the purpose of it seems a little pointless, other than to make the reader question what makes a machine human and vice versa. Anne McCaffrey’s done all this before, of course.  3 out of 5.

Space Drive, by Gordon Walters

We then get a lengthy chunk of the magazine concerned with reviews and non-fiction. Gordon Walters is a writer new to me, although you may know him better as George Locke.  This is an article that discusses the different means of travelling around science-fictional space that have been used by authors in the past. It’s a nice discussion that sums up concepts from a range of books and authors.

Books: Fancy and Imagination, by Michael Moorcock, James Colvin and Langdon Jones

As expected from previous comments there’s reviews of Charles L. Harness’s The Paradox Men and Brian Aldiss’s Greybeard. Michael Moorcock likes both.

The bulk of the reviews from Colvin (aka Moorcock, of course!) and Langdon Jones pick up a rag-bag of books. Honorary mentions go to Andre Norton’s Judgement on Janus, which is OK, James Blish’s A Life for the Stars, which is ‘better’ and Alan E. Nourse’s Scavengers in Space (good for children.) On the other hand, Poul Anderson’s Time and Stars and Damon Knight’s Beyond the Barrier both get a mauling. The second New Writings in SF anthology is ‘disappointing’, which probably means that I will like it.  The Best from F & SF is above average yet summarised as overpraised, but A Decade of Fantasy and Science Fiction, with stories from the magazine originally published between 1949-59, is 'excellent'.

There’s also the usual endorsement of J G Ballard, this time for the US publication of The Burning World, and praise for Anthony Burgess’s 'powerful and horrifying' A Clockwork Orange, which is one of the most unusual books I’ve recently come across.

Langdon Jones then positively reviews Arthur Sellings’ The Uncensored Man and C. M. Kornbluth’s The Syndic.

The Letters pages show that I Remember, Anita, published in the September-October 1964 issue, seems to have generated some controversy. There’s also a letter complaining about the return of illustrations, which shows that people are never satisfied.

Summing up

It may be the season, but I’m pleased to say that this issue of New Worlds was one I enjoyed more than I didn’t. I enjoyed the range of stories, but most of all I liked the actual stories, which were not anything particularly radical yet made me feel like it was worthwhile paying my money to read them. Last month I said that I was enjoying Science Fantasy more. If this is New Worlds’s response, then the differences between the two magazines might not be as much as I had thought. Science Fantasy may have a fight on its hands for my attention!

And with this in mind, next month I should have two magazines to review – New Worlds and Science Fantasy! It’ll be interesting to see which one turns up first.

All the very best to you and yours for 1965.

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Book, Magazine, Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 25, 1964] The Times They Are a-Changin’… Science Fantasy December 1964/January 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

As I report, we’re on the countdown to Christmas here. I hope you had a good Halloween. I must admit that after last month’s surprisingly mediocre New Worlds, I was quite looking forward to picking up the new copy of Science Fantasy.

Politics seems to have calmed down a little after the shock election result last month. Mr. Wilson seems to be intent on trying to change the laws created by 13 years of continuous Conservative rule. Although he’s only been in office for just over a month, it is noticeable that there are changes, but at the same time obvious that major change isn’t going to happen straight away. Nevertheless, there has already been a vote to suspend the death penalty for murder in Britain, which should happen in 1965. I suspect that we will see more and possibly even bigger changes in the next few months.

In music, I’m pleased to let you know that after I wrote last time, Sandie Shaw has been replaced as Number 1 by…. the return of Roy Orbison and Oh Pretty Woman.

I really like it, so I am pleased.

Perhaps it is only fair that we see some quality American acts in our charts in return for our British exports. I understand that you’ve recently had a deluge of British acts hoping to emulate the success of The Beatles, including another Brit favourite, The Rolling Stones, who were on the Ed Sullivan Show a couple of weeks ago. Their singer, Mick Jagger, had a few moves to show you!

At the cinema I am pleased to write that I have had a stay of execution regarding the musical My Fair Lady. As sometimes happens, the trailers led me to believe that the movie would be here in the next couple of weeks. I now understand that the film will be appearing at my local Odeon in January. The good news then is that it gives me more time to come up with an excuse to avoid it, hopefully.

As we always go as a family to see a 'movie for Christmas’, it looks like the movie we will see as a family this year will be Father Goose, starring one of my favourites, Cary Grant.

Looks like quite a different role for Cary…

On the television the genre pickings have still not been many. I am still enjoying most of Doctor Who, and Jessica’s excellent reports on that series’ progress need no further comment from me, but my latest find this month has been another popular series for children. I am quite surprised how much I have enjoyed its undemanding entertainment, as Gerry Anderson’s Stingray has been shown on ITV. Be warned though – it’s a puppet series! Nevertheless, its enthusiasm and energy, combined with great music in a wonderful title sequence has made this unexpected fun. I understand that it has been entirely filmed in colour, although like the majority of the 14 million British households with a television, we’re forced to watch it in good old black-and-white.

The Issue At Hand

Just to reinforce the mythical theme, this month’s cover of a Bronze Centaur is quite striking and would not perhaps be out of place on the front of a History magazine. It is, of course to do with the second part of Thomas Burnett Swann’s serial, The Blue Monkeys (started last issue), of which more below.

The Editorial, like the snippet in New Worlds last month, extols the virtues of Brian Aldiss’s new novel Greybeard. I haven’t got a copy yet – Christmas is coming! – but I must admit that I like what I’m hearing.

The Editorial also seems to rate Charles Harness’s The Paradox Men as a superior Space Opera, although it has been around a while. I understand Brian Aldiss likes it a lot, and it sounds like it could be my sort of thing as well. Let’s hope that Santa is kind this year.

Other than that, the Editorial makes a valid point about not labelling book covers with “A Science Fiction Novel”, as if it is something to be ashamed of, and finishes with the good news that Science Fantasy may soon go monthly.  Sales must be up, then.

To the stories themselves.

The Blue Monkeys (part 2), by Thomas Burnett Swann

The second part of this serial tells us what happens to teenage Thea and Icarus now that they are under the care of Eunostos, the Minotaur. This part of the story is written from the perspective of Eunostos.  It appears that taking Thea and Icarus into his world has not been easy.  Much of this part is about how bringing up Thaea and Icarus has changed his world, firstly by affecting Eunostos’s relationship with his friends Moschus the Centaur (presumably the cover star this month) and Zoe the Dryad and then when Icarus is coerced into bed by Amber the Thria. There’s some history – we are told how Eunostos knew the children’s parents and has been in the background of their lives since they were born, for example. The story ends when we discover what Ajax plans to do to get the children to return to the human world, which will no doubt be concluded in the final part next month.  I really like this reinterpretation of ancient myths. The style is engaging and written in a wryly amusing manner throughout which appeals to my own sense of humour. What is still surprising is how adult in tone the story is – much of this is about getting the teenagers into bed, which was a little disconcerting, but on the whole this one reads as effortlessly as last month. So, like last time, 4 out of 5.

Room With A Skew, by John Rackham

To lesser things, now. The last time I read a John Rackham story was in New Worlds with his story Crux in November 1963, although he was in Science Fantasy in the July/August issue. This is a light story about the things mad inventors create – in this case, a means of creating extra space in a flat by accessing the fourth dimension. Doctor Who would not have this problem!  It is a one plot idea that is better than the pun-ish title suggests, but really is just an amusing space-filler. 3 out of 5.

EJ Carnell – A Quick Look, by Harry Harrison

It’s nice to see the return of Brian Aldiss’s friend, editor and author Harry Harrison in this issue, although the subject matter of his non-fiction article is something less palatable to my tastes – recently departed New Worlds editor John Carnell. Despite my own personal grumbles about the poor last few issues of New Worlds, there’s no denying that John has had an impact on British SF and it would be wrong of me to not appreciate that, but really this is nothing more than a sycophantic promotional post for him. 3 out of 5.

The Charm, by Keith Roberts

Very pleased to see the return of this writer, who impressed me in the last issue. The Charm is another ‘Anita’ story, about the “very lovely but rather inexperienced” teenage witch finding her feet in a modern world. Think of her as a sexualised Sabrina the Teenage Witch (from Archie’s Mad House). This does involve her *cough* ‘finding experience’ in this story by being firstly captured by a witch-hunter and then going to bed with him. Using a witch’s power to make it work, the two use a Time Charm to travel backwards in time, where it all borrows heavily from H G Wells. The end of the story is a bit abrupt but generally Anita’s as amiable as she was last issue, albeit still with the annoying Granny. “I’m allus the same…” the Granny says. Quite. Whilst Anita as a character is an alluringly engaging enigma, and there’s not really a great deal to this story, The Charm is an entertaining read. 3 out of 5.

Not Me, Not Amos Cabot!, by Harry Harrison

And here’s Harry returning, this time to write fiction. I enjoyed this more than his non-fiction article.  Not Me, Not Amos Cabot! tells the story of a grumpy old curmudgeon who when he receives a glossy magazine in the post with the cheery message that he is about to die – and is he prepared for it? – is determined to prove the magazine wrong. It’s all a bit Twilight Zone, emphasised by the fact that it seems to be set in New York rather than, say, London. I get the impression that it’s meant to be a parody of advertising, an exaggeration of what can happen in today’s commercialised world, but it all sounds quite possible to me. Entertaining enough. Harrison’s gently humorous writing style carries a story that’s actually not very original. 3 out of 5.

The Madman, by Alistair Bevan

A writer new to me.  Like Harrison’s story, this is another one about an old man, set in the future. This centenarian upsets his family and his neighbours for saying how much better things were in the past, to the point that he is regarded as insane and incarcerated into a Sector Asylum for causing disruption. I guess that the message is that the future’s not what it’s supposed to be, but we should spend our time looking forward, not back. There is little value in the old – something I suspect historians and archaeologists may disagree with. 3 out of 5.

Joik, by Ernest Hill

After his appearance in last month’s New Worlds, Ernest returns with a poor novella that’s about a dystopian future where African people rule the planets. In the Rationale (what that actually is is unclear) any idea of beauty is severely dealt with. It’s basically Big Brother but where the dictator is black, not white.  Imagine, for example, a British Empire run by the oppressed, not the oppressors.

To give it a futuristic feel, not to mention New Wave anxiety, there’s artificial intelligence and spaceships but also metaphysical angst, weird dream states and torture. The plot, for what it is, is an investigation where Dadulina’s partner, Tantor, has disappeared. We discover that Dadulina has actually been arrested and tortured. This appears to be to do with Joik, the means of travelling around the universe, although it all rather disappears up into some sort of metaphysical mess. Obviously, this also involves taking narcotics to gain the full experience of whatever it is they are experiencing, from which I emerged confused and decidedly uninterested.

I can see why some readers might like it. It’s determined to be edgy and controversial (Drugs! Sex! Race!), creates words to make it sound like the dialogue of the future and has a fast pace. However, for me its drug-induced navel-gazing all seemed a little dull. One of those where you have to be there to gain the full experience, I feel.  2 out of 5.

One of Those Days, by Charles Platt

We finish this issue with a minor story about a character having a miserable existence in a hotter future climate, who having complained about the noise, the hot weather and his wife and children, then dies. Seems a bit pointless, other than a chance to moan about domestic life for the future male. I was almost tempted to think of it as a Ballard-ian parody, but that would give the story more value than it deserves. There’s not a lot to fuss about over here. We finish with a whimper. 2 out of 5.

Summing up

This is a tough one to summarise, as it is an issue that I both enjoyed and I got frustrated by.  It starts well, but seems to run out of steam by the end. Overall though, I’m pleased to say though that, despite my grumbles, there’s a lot in this issue of Science Fantasy that I’ve enjoyed, and it is still more enjoyable than the last New Worlds. Despite both issues having stories that are quite depressing, Science Fantasy is just more engaging for me.  I think I am still enjoying the variety and range of the stories more with Science Fantasy than I am with New Worlds.

The bottom line is that when I have finished reading the two magazines, I remember the stories from Science Fantasy  much more positively than the ones in New Worlds.  Where New Worlds does score is that it seems to be more determined to experiment with form and style whereas Science Fantasy is more about just telling a story. At the moment though, for me plot is winning over form. It’ll be interesting to see if this continues into 1965.

I should be back to a new issue of New Worlds next month. Until next time… have a great Christmas!

UK Beatles fans, of which there are many, have been sent a Christmas greeting from the Fab Four on flexidisc.

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Book, Magazine, Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 28, 1964] We Live In Hope (November/December 1964 New Worlds)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

After last month’s surprise visit to Science Fantasy magazine, this month we’re back to the wild and wacky realms of New Worlds, to wit, the November/December 1964 issue.

What has happened since we last met? Well, the biggest change here, as the Traveller has already noticed this month, is that as of the 15th October we have a new British Government. My impression is that the governing Conservative Party were fairly confident about their chances of returning, and so it has been a bit of a shock to them to be ousted, having been in power for 13 years or so. It was close though – Labour won a majority by a mere four seats.

I did have a hunch that it would be the younger vote, eager for change, that would decide it – all of those I spoke to saw the Labour Party, led by Harold Wilson, as a means of better reflecting their concerns – and so it appears to be. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that Mister Wilson is the youngest Prime Minister we’ve had in over 150 years, at a mere 48 years old.

Me, I blame it on The Beatles.

Harold meeting the Fab Four in March 1964

 

Talking of music, there’s been some change at the top of the charts here. Herman’s Hermits was at the top of charts for two weeks with I’m Into Something Good, but was replaced by the mighty Roy Orbison, singing Oh Pretty Woman for three weeks. It’s a terrifically powerful song, which I much preferred myself.

However, Roy has now been replaced by Sandie Shaw singing (There’s) Always Something There to Remind Me. It’s quite pleasant and seems to be quite popular in part because Ms. Shaw sings her songs barefoot.

At the cinema Goldfinger is still there and doing very well. I’m not surprised. I expect its success to continue for a while yet.

Other than that, the cinematic pickings have been rather slim, although if you like Westerns, you are in for a treat. I’ve counted three at my local Odeon recently – John Ford's Cheyenne Autumn, starring Richard Widmark and one of my favourite actors, James Stewart, was good. There’s also been Invitation to a Gunfighter, with Yul Brynner, who seems to be trading on his popularity in The Magnificent Seven a few years back. Thirdly, more recently there’s been Rio Conchos, starring Richard Boone and Stuart Whitman.

My favourite movie this month has been Fail Safe, which Rose Benton has already reviewed this month – isn’t it good when movies are released here in Britain at nearly the same time as yourselves in the US? I nearly missed it, as the cinemas were full of Goldfinger at the time, but it was a great nail-biting drama.

If I am really unlucky, the next time I speak to you I may have been dragged, kicking and screaming, to see My Fair Lady, which the trailers are telling me is out in a couple of weeks. (I’m not a huge fan of musicals.) I managed to avoid Mary Poppins back in August, but as a result I fear I may have to see this one. Wish me luck.

The Issue At Hand

This month’s cover by Robert Tilley is striking, but to my mind not as well done as the last few month’s covers. We seem to have gone from covers with a triangle shape to covers with circles. I feel that it is a bit of a step-down, to be honest. It is simpler and more basic than last month’s, for example. Interestingly, this change of cover style seems to be deliberate – there’s a comment in this month’s Letters page that suggests so. Nevertheless, it is still better than the bad old days of the last John Carnell issues, so I shouldn’t complain.

The Editorial examines the idea of ‘bad SF’ on radio, television and cinema. It makes some valid points about how SF stories may become bestsellers in prose but then fail to make the most of this in other mediums. However, the Editorial seems to mainly be an excuse to bad-mouth the movie The First Men in the Moon for not sticking to HG Wells’ admittedly superior novel – “insulting the intelligence, sloppily written, poorly acted and directed.” I didn’t think it was that bad, myself, when I saw it back in August – but then it was either see that or Mary Poppins.

To the stories themselves.

The Shores of Death (part 2), by Michael Moorcock

Look how serious they are!

And we’re straight back into editor Mike Moorcock’s serial, an energetic yet dour story which attempts to bring Space Opera up to date in the 1960’s. After the set-up last time we rejoin Clovis Marca of the 30th century, trying to discover the deeper meaning of life on The Bleak Worlds of Antares before he is driven mad or the Solar System dies.

It’s OK but rather depressing. In the end, it’s all a bit Biblical, with Clovis dying then becoming immortal and eventually wandering off into a proverbial desert. Whilst I think I get what Moorcock is trying to do, I struggled to keep reading through the morass of unremitting bleakness. Nearly fifty pages is a long time to be in pain or be miserable. As a result, I’m not sure I’ll remember it long after finishing the magazine. Spending time at the dentist may be more fun – but as the Reader’s Poll later in the issue will suggest, some may like its tone. It’s a far cry from the optimistic SF of the 50’s. 3 out of 5.

Mix-Up, by George Collyn
A new author to me. Mix-Up is a lighter story, much-needed to relieve the despair that may descend after reading The Shores of Death. It’s a one-idea story though, about what happens when matter transmitters mix up the molecules of a young male scientist and an attractive young female film star. It’s quite entertaining, though the conclusion is rather poor and even rather perverse. What can we say when the two decide to marry each other – is it a recognition of a need for understanding between the sexes or does it reflect a secret wish that all we want to do is marry ourselves? Hmm. A fair debut, though. 3 out of 5.

Look… a new magazine! Sounds quite good.

Gamma Positive, by Ernest Hill
Ernest is a returning author, having last appeared in New Worlds in the Carnell era, in January 1964. How long ago that seems!

Really though, this is nothing new, and could be a leftover from the Carnell editorial-ship – another story of the consequences of experimenting with new drugs. In this case the treatment appears to allow time travel, a favourite theme of editor Moorcock, but to me the story is really a thinly disguised attempt to make the point that time seems longer when imbibing narcotics. Dare I say that time just seemed to become longer by reading this story because it seemed to take ages to go nowhere? We’ve been here before. Yawn. 3 out of 5.

Just in case you didn't get the Biblical message! Image by Harrison.

Some Will Be Saved, by Colin R. Fry
Another writer new to me. Unfortunately, this is another story that attempts to dress up Biblical allegory in a science-fictional setting – it seems to be a theme this month. This is a sardonic take on the Garden of Eden – in a modern post-apocalyptic setting. The Biblical references are rather unsubtle – further emphasised by the fact that the two main characters are named Adam and Eve, for example. Points are given for trying to be a little scandalous, being a contemporary rewriting of the story of the Garden of Eden, but sadly it is another tale that, having made the point that the future is bad and that there’s no place for religion in it, doesn’t seem to go anywhere. In the end, it just exudes a depressingly dark sense of irony. 3 out of 5.

The Patch, by Peter Woods
Peter Woods is, as I have said before, Barrington J. Bayley writing as someone else. This time, the novella is one of those that is Science Fantasy – spaceships and atomic missiles mixed up with Kingdoms and Princes set against a civil war and an impending planetary disaster with the arrival of The Patch. It’s perhaps the story I’ve most enjoyed this month, but reads like an inferior form of Jack Vance or Poul Anderson’s work. Some of that dialogue is astoundingly clunky, and this is another story with a dreadful ending. 3 out of 5.

Emissary, by John Hamilton

The emissary being condescending to children.

Another writer new to me. In a grim Northern industrial town a stranger is seen, patting children on the head at a local school (hence the picture above) and making notes on everything else. His origin and purpose are unknown, which creates concern, fear and mistrust in the town’s populace. The point of the story is to discover the stranger’s purpose – is he a force for good or evil? The story does well to create a sense of unease, but by the end it fritters away to nothing substantial.
3 out of 5.

When is a review not a review? When it's an advertisement (I think.)

 

Onto the Book Reviews by Moorcock’s alter-ego, James Colvin.

Notice those book titles… MJM? Could it be "Michael J Moorcock"? Hmm.

The article focuses mainly on publications by Dobson’s Books, one of the first publishers here in the UK to regularly publish SF, with varied results. Eric Frank Russell’s latest, With A Strange Device, is found to be slightly disappointing, but likeable for those ‘in the mood’.

Contrastingly, the reviewer found Robert A Heinlein’s collection The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag more enjoyable than he expected. It is a grudgingly positive review – I get the impression Colvin really didn’t want to like it, but did. Alan E. Nourse’s collection The Counterfeit Man is contrarily summarised as “bad literature but good SF”. Isaac Asimov’s The Martian Way is a collection from an author that the reviewer finds “frustratingly good… in that he is good – but you know he can be even better.”

Of the paperbacks, the publication of Second Foundation, Asimov’s final book in the Foundation Trilogy, is “guaranteed top SF”, Robert Manvell’s The Dreamers is a horror story “better than (Dennis) Wheatley”,  whereas Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged is summarised with the statement “Never has such terrible old rubbish appeared between the covers of a book“ and August Derleth’s collection From Other Worlds is “mediocre”.

Even when I don’t agree with his comments, I must admit that I find Moorcock/Colvin’s comments entertaining.

In terms of the Letters, there’s a letter suggesting that the magazine is becoming more literate – something the Editor will no doubt be pleased about – and the fact that the sense of wonder, once important to SF, seems to have departed at the same time. The change in the cover style, as mentioned earlier, is also discussed.

The verdict's in on the last issue…. even if I disagree!

As ever, the reader’s ratings of recent issues make interesting reading. Just to show you how out of touch I clearly am, readers rated the first part of the Moorcock serial top last issue. This suggests that this month’s conclusion may fare equally well, to my bemusement.

Summing up

This issue of New Worlds is OK, but I’m less enamoured than the previous issues of the new ownership. Considering the title of the Editorial, this one is actually a bit bleak and depressing. This issue seems to rely less on Moorcock’s usual team of friends and associates but actually seems worse for it.

Overall, my abiding impression is that this is all a bit so-so. This may be because the repeated themes – drugs, religion – are rather groan-worthy. Whilst we’re not as depressingly poor as the bad-old-days at the end of the Carnell editorialship, I was surprised that this issue was rather mundane, which is amusing considering that two of the stories involve religious themes that would suggest a higher order of things. Cheer up, Mike – things are not as bad as you think!

I should be back to a new issue of Science Fantasy next month. Until next time… have a great Halloween!

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Book, Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 10, 1964] Drop The Bomb and We All Go Down (Sidney Lumet's Fail Safe)

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By Rosemary Benton

The Rogue Element

Grim and uncertain times can seemingly serve as interesting creative fuel. As the world becomes embroiled further and further in the mounting crisis between Cuba and the US, Hollywood has scheduled a list of releases this year that look both critically and comically at current world affairs. This month the much-plagued movie Fail Safe, directed by Sidney Lumet and featuring a star studded cast of actors, was released. Boy, is this one a rollercoaster.

Based on the 1962 novel of the same name (initially released as a serial for the Saturday Evening Post) by Eugene Burdick and Harvey Wheeler, Fail Safe covers the topical issue of mutually assured destruction. It is supposed to be a deterrent to war — it's also the inevitable conclusion when our technology and policy fail us.

Picture this scenario: an unknown aircraft enters US air space and triggers preparations for a possible enemy attack, US bombers are sent to their holding (fail-safe) points on the Soviet borders. Everyone of importance is called in (select members of congress, the President, Air Force command and political advisors), but when Strategic Air Command in Washington learns that the craft is merely a commercial vessel off course, the situation is deescalated and the surveillance system within the Control Room is reset.

But an error causes an attack order to be sent to a group of bombers at their fail-safe point. Unaware of the error and gravely realizing the enormity of what an attack order means, the bombers nevertheless begin flying towards Moscow with the intention of razing it to the ground with their 40 megaton payloads. Back at Command, the error is spotted; all attempts are made to contact the bombers and call them back, but it's too late.

If this all sounds familiar then you have either seen Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (or read the book that inspired that film – "Red Alert" (1958) by Peter George aka Peter Bryant), or you, like me, just saw the premiere of Fail Safe. Both films are produced by Columbia Pictures, and initially both films were scheduled to be released in 1964 around the same date! The logic of this is baffling, and understandably it ruffled some feathers. The inside scoop is that Kubrick put a great deal of pressure on Columbia Pictures in order to have his film released at the beginning of the year decently spaced from the other.

Predictably, the eerily similar plots of Wheeler and Burdick's story compared to George's story resulted in a very public lawsuit – Kubrick and George vs Wheeler and Burdick, McGraw-Hill, Curtis Publishing Company, and Entertainment Corporation of America. The suit, initiated by George and Kubrick, claimed that Wheeler and Burdick lifted significant plot points from plaintiff Peter George's book. Evidently the matter was settled privately, as the American public is now able to see Fail Safe in many major theaters.

Initial Impressions

Despite their glaring story parallels, Fail Safe is a different animal entirely from Dr. Strangelove. It's hard to describe the experience of watching this film. The violence of the opening scene, wherein a veteran bomber pilot finds himself both observer and victim at a bullfight, sets the audience up with a baseline anxiety that grows and wanes, but never dissipates. The plot doesn't introduce the error (in this movie, caused by a machine rather than a person) until over 20 minutes into the movie. Prior to that we see haunting scenes that manage to capture intense raw emotions and family moments instrumental to defining our surprisingly complex and fascinating characters.

Dan O'Herlihy, Walter Matthau, 1964

The suspense as the disaster gets wildly out of control builds relentlessly. For the audience, stuck in their seats with the knowledge that this is all very relevant to our country's current situation, there's an accompanying sense of angry futility. It's a hard truth that the general public (in the theater and on the screen) is blind to the national procedures set in place, and ultimately powerless to influence the decisions being made by the ranks of command. During the film's two and a half hour runtime this fury grew intense. By the end of the film I was actually teary eyed with a kind of writhing rage in my gut. It was especially fueled by the unbearably unfair price the Soviet and American civilian populations pay. Millions of people in both countries die minutes apart, or more accurately, are murdered. All for a technical error.

The Blame Game

The issue of blame and responsibility for a crime against humanity like the deployment of nuclear weapons is central to the plot in Fail Safe. As the cast discuss their options for the impending nuclear strike, the issue of how it could have happened in the first place is intensely debated by the characters. There are numerous people who keep saying that blame can't be assigned because the whole situation is an accident. No human hand sent the mission to the bombers streaking towards Moscow. A reset error caused the order to be delivered. It was always a possibility that the machines could malfunction. It's a risk of new technology that they could fail. As such everyone can be reasonably absolved of guilt. Absolving oneself of guilt and responsibility is a natural gut reaction in everyone when they are charged with making a mistake. But a crime against humanity? Of this magnitude? Someone has to take responsibility for that.

Even though it is explained earlier that he has no direct oversight of the checks and fail safes set in place to prevent such a tech error, the U. S. President (Henry Fonda) feels that the blame must lie with those at the highest peak of authority, and the actions he takes to address the situation reflect this. He verbally underlines this point in his angry statement near the end of the film to the Soviet premier that the blame for the dead lies with both men. Both men wield the destructive force of 20 megaton bombs as part of the unspoken detente of mutually assured destruction. Their use is ultimately the responsibility of the men in power. The President implores his Soviet counterpart, and the generals and senior officials on both sides, that they all must learn from this disaster to make sure it doesn't happen again. We don't hear what the Soviets have to say to this, and are left to wonder if they feel the same way about the shared responsibility and guilt.

But can people overcome the trap technology sets for us? Early in the film we see two WWII-veteran Air Force pilots playing pool and bemoaning the studiousness and "impersonal" attitudes of the new recruits grimly reading technical manuals at the tables next to them. Their conversation foreshadows the attitudes of many other characters. This film does an extremely good job of linking the fear of technology and the heavy responsibility of those who "control" it. Nearly all of the cast express, or hold firm to, the sentiment that technology is pulling people away from one another and will ultimately replace humanity in the resolution (and creation) of conflicts.

Another example of assigning blame to technology is in the Control Room when Congressman Raskob (Sorrell Booke) is given a tour of the new tech and an update on the emergency. He is disgusted and angry that a technical failure caused the orders to be sent, describing it as as humanity losing control of its inventions.

The scene revealing his feelings on the matter is very well executed. Congressman Raskob has just been shown how American satellites can monitor submarine movements and can zoom in nearly down to street level! He's also made aware that foreign surveillance is occurring within an alarmingly close proximity to the US shoreline. What disturbs him even more than all of this highly evolved (and very plausible) surveillance technology is that no one knows who is overseeing it. When he asks who double and triple checks the fail safes set up to monitor the machines, he is given different answers simultaneously: "The President" and "No one". That is profoundly disturbing, and Raskob knows it. He replies, "The only thing that everyone can agree on is that no one's responsible".

Final Thoughts

While Fail Safe offers a horrifyingly plausible solution to address the catastrophe shown in the film, neither the movie nor the best-selling book that the movie is based on offer any answers on how such a catastrophe could be avoided. Per the film, such an attack is the ultimate avalanche of events. It is the inevitable collapse of a shaky, hastily built structure rigged with cheap materials and patched with quick-fixes. Is it already too late to stop something like this from happening? Fail Safe asks this question, but suggests that there is no answer.

May sleep come easy to you tonight…

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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 26, 1964] A Mystery Mastermind Double-Feature: The Ringer and The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse

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[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age. If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)


by Cora Buhlert

After a wet and cool summer, the rain continued right into September. We can only imagine what carpenter Armando Rodrigues de Sá thought when he arrived in rainy Cologne from sunny Portugal and became the one millionth so-called "guest worker", immigrant workers from Southern Europe contracted to work in West German factories to alleviate the labour shortage. In Cologne, Mr. Rodrigues de Sá was welcomed by journalists, cameras and a representative of the employers' association and presented with a flower bouquet and a motorbike.

One millionth guest worker
Portuguese immigrant worker Armando Rodrigues de Sá is welcomed to West Germany with a flower bouquet and a brand-new motorbike

Another visitor who received a warm welcome in Germany was American Civil Rights icon Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., when he visited Berlin earlier this month. The official reason for the visit was a memorial service for John F. Kennedy, but Dr. King also used the opportunity to visit the Berlin Wall, where only hours before a young man had been shot during an attempt to flee East Berlin and only survived due to the heroic actions of an US Army sergeant who pulled him to safety, a sad reminder that about fifty people have already been killed trying to surmount the Berlin Wall.

Martin Luther King at the Berlin Wall
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at the Berlin Wall

The East German government is hostile to religion, but supportive of the Civil Rights movement in the US. And so Dr. King was allowed to visit East Berlin, where he held a sermon in the packed Marienkirche and spontaneously intoned "Let My People Go". I'm not sure if the East German authorities got the message, but the people of East Berlin certainly did.

Martin Luther King in Berlin
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in Berlin with West Berlin's mayor Willy Brandt and Otto Dibelius, Lutheran bishop of Berlin-Brandenburg.

Rainy days are perfect for going to the movies and luckily, West German cinemas have plenty of thrills to offer. A few months ago, I introduced you to the two series of science fictional thrillers, which are currently dominating West German cinemas, namely the Edgar Wallace and the Dr. Mabuse series. Fans of both have reason to rejoice, because this fall has brought us both a new Edgar Wallace and a new Dr. Mabuse film.

A New High for Edgar Wallace

Poster The RingerDer Hexer (The Ringer) is the twentieth Edgar Wallace adaptation produced by Rialto Film and one of the best, if not the best movie in the series so far. The Ringer is a pure delight and a distillation of everything that has made the Edgar Wallace series so successful. The balance of humour and thrills is just right and The Ringer will have you both rolling on the floor with laughter and on the edge of your seat with suspense. There are nefarious crimes, a mysterious figure – for once not the villain – whose true identity is not revealed until the final reel and a twisting and turning plot that still has a twist or two in store, even after the Ringer has been unmasked.

Der Hexer novel coverThe Ringer is based on Edgar Wallace's 1925 novel The Gaunt Stranger and its 1926 stage version The Ringer, though the literal translation of the German title would be "The Witcher". It's certainly apt, for the titular character is not just a master of disguise, but also has nigh sorcerous abilities to evade Scotland Yard's finest.

Apprehending an antagonist is cunning as the Ringer certainly requires the best Scotland Yard has to offer and so The Ringer is the first film to unite the three actors who usually play inspectors in the Edgar Wallace movies, namely the young and dashing Joachim Fuchsberger and Heinz Drache and the older and decidedly not dashing Siegfried Lowitz. They are aided – or hindered, depending on your point of view – by Wallace veteran Siegfried Schürenberg in his customary role as Sir John Walker, head of Scotland Yard.

Like most Edgar Wallace movies, The Ringer begins with a murder before the title sequence. A young secretary is spying on her boss, dodgy lawyer Maurice Messer (Jochen Brockmann), when she is strangled by an unseen assailant. The movie then cuts to her dead eyes staring at us from the glass dome of a mini-submarine that slowly dives into an underground pool. Cue the titles and Peter Thomas' delightfully squeaky theme music.

That Ain't Witchcraft

The Ringer program bookUnbeknownst to the killers, the murdered woman was Gwenda Milton, the younger sister of Arthur Milton, the vigilante known only as the Ringer for his uncanny ability to disguise himself as anybody he pleases. Years ago, Arthur Milton had given up his career of vigilantism and retired to Australia, far beyond the reach of the British law. But now he is back to take revenge on the murderers of his sister. Of course, both the villains and Scotland Yard are only too eager to capture the Ringer. There is only one problem. No one knows what he looks like.

What follows is a merry chase, as the Ringer pits the villains, four pillars of society who operate a human trafficking ring out of a church-run home for wayward girls, against each other, while three police inspectors and Sir John fall over each other's feet to arrest him. Also along for the ride are Archibald Finch (Edgar Wallace stalwart Eddi Arent), a reformed pickpocket (or is he?) turned butler, and Cora Ann Milton (Margot Trooger), the Ringer's glamorous and loyal wife. The result is so much fun that you barely notice that the plot doesn't make a whole lot of sense (but then, Edgar Wallace movies often don't) and that occasionally the Ringer has to move things forward by handing either Scotland Yard or the villains a clue – literally on a silver platter in one case.

Siegfried Lowitz and Margot Trooger in The Ringer
Inspector Warren (Siegfried Lowitz) confronts Cora Ann Milton (Margot Trooger) in "The Ringer"

Women in Edgar Wallace movies usually come in one of two flavours, the wide-eyed ingenue who will go on to marry the dashing inspector after he has saved her from certain death and the villainous femme fatale who will usually end up dead, after vamping her way through the movie. The Ringer breaks this pattern, for while Margot Trooger as Cora Ann takes the part of the femme fatale, she is neither a villainess nor does she die. Cora Ann is not a henchwoman, but a true partner to her husband and also very much in love with him. She is my favourite female character in the Edgar Wallace series so far. The ending leaves open the possibility of a sequel and I for one would love to see the continuing crime fighting adventures of Arthur and Cora Ann Milton.

Sophie Hardy, Joachim Fuchsberger and Siefried Lowitz in The Ringer
Inspector Higgins (Joachim Fuchsberger) and Inspector Warren (Siegfried Lowitz) have just survived a murder attempt via venomous snake, while Elise (Sophie Hardy) screams.

The heroine is played by French actress Sophie Hardy as Elise Fenton, the girlfriend of Inspector Higgins (Joachim Fuchsberger). Elise is no wide-eyed ingenue either – indeed it is quite openly hinted that she and Higgins are living together, even though they are not (yet) married. Elise probably seemed modern and liberated on paper. Alas, she comes across as annoying in the movie itself, a nagging, jealous and catty woman whose only goal in life seems to be to entrap Higgins (or "Higgy", as she calls him) into marriage. Maybe Karin Dor could have given the character more depth – alas, she was too busy playing Winnetou's true love Ribanna in Horst Wendlandt's other hugely successful film series. As it is, I found myself hoping that Higgins would ditch the annoying Elise for Sir John's attractive secretary Jean (Finnish actress Ann Savo).

Ann Savo and Joachim Fuchsberger in The Ringer
Inspector Higgins (Joachim Fuchsberger) flirts with Jean (Ann Savo) in "The Ringer"

The Ringer Unmasked

While the romance subplot isn't quite successful, the movie excels in keeping the audience guessing the identity of the Ringer. The script steers suspicion towards two characters, the mysterious Australian James Westby (Heinz Drache) and pickpocket turned butler Archibald Finch (Eddi Arent), who always seems to know much more than he should. To anybody who's been watching the Edgar Wallace movies for a while, both suspects seem equally unlikely, for Heinz Drache usually plays heroic inspectors, while Eddi Arent inevitably plays bumbling comic relief characters. However, the Wallace movies are not afraid to cast against type on occasion: the heroic investigator is revealed to be the villain in The Red Circle (1959) and in Feburary's Room 13, the wide-eyed ingenue turned out to be a cold-blooded murderess.

Joachim Fuchsberger, Siegfried Schürenberg and Eddi Arent in The Ringer
Inspector Higgins (Joachim Fuchsberger) and Sir John (Siegfried Schürenberg) confront the mysterious Archibald Finch (Eddi Arent) in "The Ringer"

In the end, the Ringer is revealed to be a character no one ever suspected, even though the rest of the cast and the audience have no reason to believe or trust him. It’s a testament to the cleverness of the story that we don’t even notice this until the final unmasking. And indeed, producer Horst Wendlandt and director Alfred Vohrer went to great lengths to keep the true identity of the Ringer secret even from the cast and crew. The final few pages of the script were locked away in Wendlandt's safe to prevent leaks. When the Ringer is finally unmasked, the face behind the latex mask is that of Luxembourgian actor René Deltgen. Portly, balding and fifty-four years old, Deltgen is no one's idea of a criminal mastermind and dashing vigilante, but then the entire movie defies expectations and shows that the Edgar Wallace series still hasn't gone stale after twenty instalments.

Cast of The Ringer
The cast of "The Ringer" implores audiences not to spoil the ending.

Dr. Mabuse Returns – Again

Poster Death ray of Dr. MabuseUnfortunately, the same cannot be said for the latest movie in the other great West German thriller series. For while the Dr. Mabuse series has been very good at reinventing itself in the five movies made post WWII (plus two made during the Weimar Republic) so far, the latest instalment Die Todesstrahlen des Dr. Mabuse (The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse) shows definite signs of the series going stale.

When we last saw Mabuse in 1963's Scotland Yard vs. Dr. Mabuse, he had not only failed to establish a reign of crime and chaos in the UK, but his malevolent spirit had also vacated the body of psychiatrist Professor Pohland (Walter Rilla), leaving the poor man uttering "It wasn't me, it was Mabuse. He used my brain" over and over again. Pohland was locked up in an insane asylum, because that worked so wonderfully when Mabuse was apprehended in The Testament of Dr. Mabuse – twice. The opening of The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse finds Pohland still in the asylum and still muttering the same lines over and over again. When the British send intelligence officer Major Bob Anders (Peter van Eyck) to interrogate Pohland, Pohland utters the word "death ray" and promptly vanishes. This is the third time German-American actor Peter van Eyck takes the lead in a Mabuse movie after The 1000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse and Scotland Yard vs. Dr. Mabuse. All three characters have different names, though Major Bill Tern from Scotland Yard and Major Bob Anders from Death Ray are so similar they might as well be the same character.

Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse titles

A Game of Spies

The Death ray of Dr. Mabuse program bookNot long after Pohland's disappearance, Anders is given a new assignment – to investigate spy activities in Malta, where a scientist named Professor Larsen is working on an invention that will change the world. And that invention just happens to be a death ray. Anders no more thinks that this is a coincidence than the audience does. So he hastens to Malta, taking along Judy (former Miss Greece Rika Dialina), one of his many girlfriends, to pose as a newlywed couple on their honeymoon.

Since everybody in Malta knows who Anders is anyway, the ruse is completely unnecessary. And indeed, I wish that the movie had omitted Judy, who adds nothing to the plot except prancing about in bikinis and scanty nightwear and moaning that Anders isn't paying enough attention to her. Because if Elise from The Ringer was annoying, Judy is certainly giving her a run for her money. As with Elise, Judy's sole aim in life seems to be to entrap Anders into marriage. I really hope that the appearance of two similarly grating female characters in two high profile West German movies in the space of less than a month is just a coincidence and not a new trend. After all, it's 1964 and young women these days are focussed on more than just snagging a husband.

Peter van Eyck and Rika Dialina in The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse
Major Bob Anders (Peter Van Eyck) spies on Mabuse, while Judy (Rika Dialina) has other ideas.

In Malta, we are quickly introduced to the rest of the players, Professor Larsen (O.E. Hasse), his assistant Dr. Krishna (Valéry Inkijinoff), Larsen's niece Gilda (Yvonne Furneaux), Gilda's fiancé Mario Monta (Gustava Rojo), whose brother Jason (Massimo Pietrobon) owns the local fishing fleet and may be working for Mabuse as well as Fausto Botani (Claudio Gora), an elderly man who always tends to the grave of his late wife in a cemetery that is a hotbed of suspicious activities. We also get a techno-babble laden introduction to Professor Larsen's death ray projector, which can burn every city on Earth to a crisp.

Valery Injikoff and O.E. Hasse in The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse
Professor Larsen (O.E. Hasse) and Dr. Krishna (Valery Injikoff) in the death ray lab.

The bulk of the movie is a succession of action sequences, as Mabuse and his henchmen try to infiltrate Professor Larsen's laboratory, while Anders tries to stop them. And indeed the action sequences, whether it's a fist fight in a church tower, a car chase or an underwater fight involving several scuba divers, are exciting and well choreographed. Director Hugo Fregonese is best known for helming B-westerns in Hollywood and his experience certainly shows.

Scuba Divers in The Daeth Ray of Dr. Mabuse
Mabuse's scuba diving henchmen report for duty

Regarding the identity of Mabuse, the script directs suspicion at Larsen's assistant Dr. Krishna, playing on unpleasant yellow peril stereotypes. In the end, however, the seemingly harmless Fausto Botani is unmasked as Mabuse's latest host body, just in time for Mabuse's spirit to leave and seek his fortune elsewhere. In one of the most chilling sequences of the film, Botani is left to mutter "It wasn't me, it was Mabuse. He used my brain" over and over again, while his faithful dog Pluto – implied to be the same German shepherd that already accompanied Wolfgang Preiss as Mabuse in The 1000 Eyes of Dr. Mabuse – runs off, presumably to seek out his master's next host body.

Mabuse goes Bond

The greatest strength of the Dr. Mabuse series is its versatility. Mabuse's nature as a body-hopping malevolent spirit allows producer Artur Brauner to plug the character into any kind of scenario. And so Mabuse's postwar adventures have ranged from exploring Cold War paranoia and economic fears via offbeat gangster films and science fiction horror movies to a Mabuse film pretending to be an Edgar Wallace movie. With this latest movie, Dr. Mabuse tries out yet another genre, namely that of the James Bond influenced spy thriller.

Yoko Tani and Peter Van Eyck in The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse
The villainous Mercedes (Yoko Tani) tries to get in a shot at Major Bob Anders (Peter Van Eyck)

The James Bond movies – the most recent one of which, Goldfinger, premiered in the UK on the same day as The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse, though West German audiences won't get to see it until January – are enormously popular in Europe. Exotic locations, pulpy adventure and outlandish villains are a large part of the appeal of the Bond movies and since these ingredients can also be found in the Mabuse series, Mabuse and Bond should be a match made in heaven. And while Peter Van Eyck is no Sean Connery and a little old for an action hero (fifty-one compared to Connery's thirty-four), he certainly has the required charm and square-jawed handsomeness to play a Bond stand-in.

Yvonne Furneaux and Peter Van Eyck in The Death ray of Dr. Mabuse
Major Bob Anders (Peter Van Eyck) tangles with Gilda Larsen (Yvonne Furneaux) in "The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse"

There is only one problem. The Death Ray of Dr. Mabuse just doesn't work, neither as a Mabuse movie nor as a Bond look-alike. The main issue here is that the James Bond movies present their exotic locations and beautiful women in full Technicolor glory, while the Mabuse films have always worked best when imitating the atmospheric black and white look of the expressionist cinema of the Weimar Republic which gave birth to the character. Mabuse thrives in the shadows, but Death Ray drags him into the bright Mediterranean sunshine. As a result, the exterior scenes feel overlit and washed out, while the extensive underwater scenes seem blurry and murky. I have no doubt that the coast of Malta – or rather the coast of Italy standing in for the coast of Malta – is beautiful, but in this movie it is just grey.

Would Death Ray have worked better, if it had been shot in colour? I suspect we'll never know. However, I'm not the only one who is dissatisfied with the movie, since the box office performance of Death Ray has been underwhelming so far. Opening against Winnetou II, one of the most highly anticipated movies of the year, didn't help either.

So what's next for Dr. Mabuse? Producer Artur Brauner has indicated that he still has plans for two more Mabuse movies. And the nature of the character and the series allows Brauner to forget that Death Ray ever existed and just start over with a new lead actor in a new location. The only question now is, what form will the next incarnation of Dr. Mabuse take.

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