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Comics, Movies, Science / Space Race

[Nov. 21, 1960] I aim at the Stars (but sometimes I hit London)

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If the United States is doing well in the Space Race, it is in no small thanks to a group of German expatriates who made their living causing terror and mayhem in the early half of the 1940s.  I, of course, refer to Wehrner von Braun and his team of rocket scientists, half of whom were rounded up by the Allies after the War, the other half of whom apparently gave similar service to the Soviets. 

I don't know if the Russian group is still affiliated with the Communist rocket program–I don't think so.  Last I heard, they had all been repatriated.  But bon Braun's group is still going strong.  Until last year, they worked under the auspices of the Army, but now they are employed in a civilian capacity by NASA.  Their giant Saturn project is the backbone of our nascent lunar program.

Of course, the fact that an ex-Nazi is playing such a pivotal role in our space program may not sit well with some.  Perhaps to address this concern, the rather hagiographic movie, I Aim at the Stars has been released.  Interestingly, it's not quite so sympathetic as it might have been.  Von Braun is played as a rather soulless figure, unconcerned with the political ramifications of his work.  He cares only about his rockets.

Or as a math student from the Bay Area has sung:

"Don't say that he's hypocritical.
Say instead that he's 'apolitical'.
'Once the rockets are up, who cares
where they come down. 
That's not my department,'
says Wehner von Braun."

A special comic book was made for the movie and handed out at some of the premieres.  I've gotten my hands on one of them, and having been given permission to reprint, my editor is reproducing it in its entirety for those of you who won't make it to the flicks to enjoy Curt Jurgens do a rather good job of not looking at all like Wehrner von Braun.

Enjoy!

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Movies

[Sep. 24, 1960] Mood for a Day (Roger Corman's House of Usher)

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We are pleased to present noted scholar Rosemary Benton's thoughts on Roger Corman's House of Usher, the cinemafication of Poe's classic about a cursed family doomed to madness through the ages.  Special kudos must be awarded since Ms.  Benton lives in rural New England, where the movie houses are not all air conditioned…

It's been a particularly hot summer this year, but a deep love of movies compelled me to visit my local theater nonetheless.  This time it was to enjoy a film that has been making quite a stir since it's release in June: House of Usher. 

Buzz about the movie claims that it was shot in only 15 days, and apparently a forest fire in the Hollywood Hills served as the perfect filming location for the opening shots of the movie.  On the one hand, I had to wonder how good a film that was shot in such a rush could possibly be.  On the other hand, Roger Corman's dedication to effect can hardly be questioned when he drags his crew out into the ruin of a forest fire all for the glory of atmosphere.  And with the positive reception that another of Mr.  Corman's recent pictures has been getting, The Little Shop of Horrors, I couldn't justify missing out on an opportunity to see some more of his work. 

What atmosphere there is in House of Usher.  Silence is allowed at times, just to hear the creaking of the house in the dead of night.  When music does occur strains of the orchestra's violin section and the hypnotic vocals utilized in the film's peaks make for a memorable score by veteran composer, Les Baxter.  Music, or lack thereof, is key to what makes House of Usher so very creepy.  The vocals are employed to great effect about half an hour into the movie when our protagonist wanders into the mansion's chapel.  It comes as a great relief that soothes the fear the audience was experiencing just moments before.  Here is a place that, in the honeycombed labyrinth of the Usher mansion, offers comfort and protection.  Then, with a cascade of violins, the scene transforms into a shock that the audience didn't predict.  It's a turn that, in lesser films, would have been achieved only by a shot of the shocked face of the actor, followed by a quick cut to the object of the shock.  Or perhaps a panning shot would shows the audience what the actor will be scared by moments before they themselves see it.  In House of Usher the visuals, acting, and music all unite in many memorable moments throughout the film. 

There is a distinct lack of exposition which I found to be very refreshing.  The audience is allowed to draw their own conclusion on the mental states of characters, and are left on the edge of their seats wondering what twists and turns will come next.  This kind of horror film could not be more anticipated given the many low grade double feature horror movies, sequels, and franchises of recent years.  This glut of horror movies has shown a strain on the formula that made the careers of Bella Lugosi and Boris Karloff. 

Headlining actor Vincent Price's telltale drawl, soft line delivery and affected mannerisms have type-cast him to such a point that nearly his entire early career has been built upon television spots as villainous rogues.  The characters he portrayed for many years were sadly only as deep as a few establishing shots allowed.  There is a renaissance afoot in Mr.  Price's career, however.  Oddly enough, this maturation was brought on by a satirical horror film with the most ridiculous premise.  The Tingler showed Mr.  Price playing a morally ambiguous mortician/scientist who wavered on a thin line between antagonist and antihero, someone goofy yet menacing.  Now, as the titular master of the Usher household, he has been given the freedom to waver between madman and protector, a person who believes so profoundly in the existence of evil that he is willing to stamp it out even at the cost of his own life and the family line.  It is my firm belief that actors like him, with directors like Richard Corman, will carry horror films on to something greater. 

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Movies

[September 15, 1960] You can lead a horticulture… (Roger Corman's Little Shop of Horrors)

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The motion picture industry has been in decline for fifteen years, leaving movie houses owners pondering this humdinger:

"How do we get more folks through our doors?" 

One way has been to aim for the pocketbook.  Offer two movies for the price of one, the so-called "double feature."  Only, it hasn't worked out so well, and the practice seems to be dying out. 

The issue seems to be one of quality.  What good does it do to get a second movie for free if it's not worth the time spent to endure it?  Especially now that the allure of the theater is diminished by the spread of home air conditioning and television?  This is why Hollywood is now turning to true spectacles to pack the seats: Ben Hur, The Ten Commandments.  the upcoming Spartacus.  These are epics for which the small screen just won't cut it.  They may be what saves the industry.

This is not to say that B-movies, the second bananas in a double-bill, are history.  In fact, my family and I just went to the cinema to watch what can only be described as a Double B feature: a pairing of The Last Woman on Earth and Little Shop of Horrors.  I suppose that makes one of them a C-movie!  Both are by Roger Corman, renowned for making low-budget schlock.  He has a talent for squeezing the most out of a tiny purse, and much of what he produces has surprising merit.

I talked about The Last Woman on Earth in my last piece.  This time around, let's look at Little Shop of Horrors.

It's a simple, shocking story on the face of it.  Seymour Krelbourne is a dim-witted assistant in the shop of Gravis Mushnick, a florist on Skid Row in Los Angeles.  On the verge of losing his job due to his incompetence, Seymour wins his boss over with a peculiar homegrown hybrid that turns out to be a hit with the customers.  Seymour names it Audrey Junior after his adorable, if dotty, co-worker, and thus wins her over, too.  Happy story, no?

No.  As it turns out, Audrey Junior is a sentient Venus Fly Trap with a taste for meat…human meat.  It uses Seymour as a patsy to conduct a series of grisly murders and feed its insatiable appetite.  Ultimately, the beast is stopped, but at a high price.

Sounds like a typical low-grade horror movie, doesn't it?  Don't be fooled.  The plot is simply a vehicle to deliver a non-stop series of character gags, physical humor, malaprop jokes, and general farce.  It's a genuinely funny film that feels like a cross between The Twilight Zone and a Borscht Belt stand-up routine.  Standout characters include Mel Welles as Mushnick, sporting a convincing Turkish Jewish accent; Wally Campo and Jack Warford as a pair of police investigators doing a spot-on parody of the duo from Dragnet; John Shaner as a sadistic dentist; Jack Nicholson as a masochistic patient; and Corman-film perennial, Dick Miller, as a flosiverous (flower-eating) customer. 

Little Shop of Horrors is hardly cinematic gold, but it is good-naturedly gruesome and a lot of fun.  I suspect this odd little comedy may well become a cult film, remembered as one of Corman's better pieces.  Watch it while it's still in theaters!

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Movies

[September 13, 1960] On the beach… again (The Last Woman on Earth)

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from here

I understand that the movie-house biz isn't doing so well.  Looking through my trade magazines, I found some pretty alarming statistics.  During the War, Americans spent about a quarter of their recreation budget on movies.  Now, we spend just 5% in the cinemas.  Movie revenues are down a third, from $1.4 billion to $950 million.  Only half as many films are coming out this year as did during the War–200 versus 400.

The causes of film's decline aren't too hard to discern.  Television is free and constant.  More homes have air conditioning.  Going to the movies isn't such an event anymore. 

Not that the film parlors haven't tried.  Cinescope.  Cinerama.  Aroma-rama!  Double features.  Drive-in viewing.  Nothing's working.

Well, never let it be said that the Journey shirks its civic duty.  Thus it was that the Traveller and his family all went to see the Roger Corman double-feature at the local movie palace.

Yes, you heard right.  They billed a Corman B-movie with…another Corman B-movie!  Boy are we gluttons for punishment.  Actually, the experience wasn't so bad.  We'd heard that his Little Shop of Horrors was a clever little comedy, and we weren't disappointed. 

But that's getting ahead of ourselves, for Shop was the second feature on the billing.  Number one was:

The Last Woman on Earth

This is a post-apocalyptic film, a genre that is booming these days.  In Woman, some sort of bomb or act of God momentarily destroys all free oxygen in the atmosphere, killing humanity and most of Earth's animal life. A crooked billionaire, his beautiful and disillusioned wife, and his nebbishy young attorney manage to survive the end of the world thanks to some timely scuba diving off the coast of Puerto Rico. 

In the first 15 minutes of the movie, we get to meet the three protagonists as they are in the civilized world.  Harold is a rich cynic who takes nothing very seriously, including his wife.  He spends much of his life drinking, gambling, and making his fortunes.  Martin is Harold's lawyer.  His defining trait seems to be caution.  And then we have the lovely Evelyn, who is tired of being ignored, tired of being kept at arm's length from her new husband.  She makes a pass at Martin in just the second scene, though it's hard to see what the attraction is, other than convenience.

Then comes the disaster.  The characters emerge from the water and take in lungfuls of air that do not satisfy.  Matches don't light.  Engines don't catch.  When the trio gets back to town, everyone is suffocated.  It's really quite nicely done.

The three take refuge at a swank residence with enough food and booze to last months, if not years.  Sounds idyllic… except Harold is a rolling stone, a man of action.  He worries about disease and wants to look for other survivors.  What made him venal and dirty in the old world makes him a natural leader in the new one.  One can't help but like him.

Except Martin doesn't much like him.  Under the new conditions, Martin sees no reason to follow the driven Harold..  And Evelyn sees the catastrophe as a sort of liberation, a chance to start anew.  With Martin.

Martin and Evelyn consumate an affair, and Harold exiles his attorney from their little paradise.  Martin leaves…with Evelyn, and the pair plan to steal Harold's yacht and make for Florida.  But Martin is not really a rebel–more of a depressive.  His basic pessimism and lassitude become evident when he rejects Evelyn's suggestion that they start a family, and she starts to have second thoughts about their relationship. 

Then Harold shows up, and we are treated to a long chase and fight scene in which Harold mortally wounds Martin.  This leaves Harold and Evelyn a couple by default, if a rather shaky one.

I like dramas in a bottle, and I like post apocalyptic stories.  This one had its issues, however.  It's not so much bad as it is disappointing. The film sort of fizzles out halfway and never does much with its material.  It doesn't help that two of the three characters aren't very likable, and the fellow who plays Martin isn't much of an actor.  The ending is a letdown, too; I think it would have been more compelling if Harold had let the others go, with Evelyn ultimately returning to her husband. 

Of course, the real issue is that this movie has been done before, and better: The World, The Flesh, and The Devil. 

But, if nothing else, it is a lovely film.  Corman makes expert use of the local scenery: beaches, forest, a coastal fort.  I can only imagine that he had other business on the island.  There's no way he'd have the budget to head out there otherwise! 

Stay tuned for Little Shop of Horrors in a couple of days…

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Movies

[August 25, 1960] Accurate Paleontology (Dinosaurus!)

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Another weekend, another Jack Harris production.  Harris has made a name for himself cranking out colorful, enjoyable B-movie fare, and his latest contribution to the cinematic universe, Dinosaurus!, is no exception.

Make no mistake: Harris has yet to produce a masterpiece.  But then, I don't think that's his goal.  Rather, he creates fun monsters and cool heroes to fight them.  All while offering up a ear-catching soundtrack.

This time around, Harris has traded in the frenetic jazz for soothing calypso, as befits the setting of Dinosaurus!–the idyllic Caribbean paradise of St. Croix. 

In contrast to his previous movies, The Blob and The 4D Man, Dinosaurus! opens up right quick with the action.  In brief, a test of underwater explosives off the coast of the island uncovers a pair of dinosaurs and a caveman, all of whom have been frozen solid for ages at the bottom of the sea.  They are hauled ashore for investigation, whereupon they thaw and wreak havoc upon the island.  But the real monster of the piece isn't one of the dinosaurs or a prehistoric Neanderthal.  It's a sinister island manager named Hacker, who treats the islanders like his property, and who has designs on seizing the ancient creatures for his own profit.


Beefcake, two for one sale, with a cheesecake dessert–but you have to order a side of slime…

Rather than spoil the plot, for the movie is worth watching (so long as you understand what you'll be getting), I'll just tell you the things I learned during the course of the film:

1) Brontosaurus, Tyrannosaurus, and Neanderthals lived contemporaneously;

2) Creatures can be quick-frozen such that they will return to life, no worse for wear, once exposed to warm sun and rain;

3) Tyrannosaurs are malicious, spiteful creatures; they are motivated by murder and mayhem rather than by hunger;

4) Brontosaurs are adorable and make excellent steeds;

5) Neanderthals are noble, self-sacrificing creatures, but they lack the ability to speak.  They also are best used as comic relief;

6) Stop-motion and puppet dinosaurs are much more satisfying to watch than lizards with taped-on accoutrements;

7) Harris hopes to make a sequel even though there is no way to continue the storyline.

Rest assured that the good guys win in the end, although not without taking casualties–to wit, an Irishman and a Brontosaurus.  I suspect that, if my daughter had been with me, she would have walked out when the sauropod bought the farm.  I know I was tempted.

My magazine subscriptions should be here by tomorrow, so I'll have the first revew of the October 1960 issues next time around!

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Movies

[August 14, 1960] George Pal's The Time Machine

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And sometimes, the cinema astounds me.

Have I got your attention?  My faithful readers know that I am an avid movie-goer.  At least once a month, my daughter and I will trek out to the local drive-in or parlor and take in a science fiction film.  Sometimes we see good A-listers, sometimes we see bad ones.  Occasionally we see good B-listers, usually we see bad ones.  In general, book adaptations are loose, at best.  Journey to the Center of the Earth was one of the better films of 1959, but it bore little resemblance to the source material.

George Pal's The Time Machine knocked my socks off.

Now, I'm not usually given to hyperbole (in fact, I can safely say I'd sooner die than engage in such a hackneyed endeavor), so you can believe me when I report that The Time Machine is easily the best fantasy film of the year.

Note that I say fantasy: time travel stories often get categorized as science fiction, but this movie is a pure flight of fancy, and a delightful one at that.  It is a beautiful, timeless piece of film that, I imagine, will provide entertainment decades from now–perhaps even in the far future depicted in the movie.

But I get ahead of myself.  First, a synopsis:

In broad strokes, the film follows the book, but there are some key differences, in part to be topical to the era in which it was made.

It opens with a dinner party at the house of inventor, H.G. Wells (played by Rod Taylor, a rather hunky and quite capable Australian, who recently starred in The Twilight Zone).  Wells makes a tardy appearance, disheveled, wounded, and smoke-suffused.  The movie is his recounting of his adventures through time.

Just six days before, as the last minutes of the 1800s ticked away, Wells invites the same four guests to witness a demonstration of time travel.  Using a scale model of the device, Wells sends a cigar into the future.  But when his friends display doubt as to the success of the model's flight, our hero resolves to take a trip to the future and return with his findings.

This is, perhaps, the most exciting part of the movie.  I know my daughter enjoyed it the most.  Wells travels 17 years into the future and meets the son of his best friend, Philby.  He sees his house blown up by the Blitz in 1940. 

In 1966, he makes a brief stop just in time to watch the world blown up in a nuclear holocaust.  He is saved only by the speed at which he travels into the future.

Encased in a volcanic mountain, the result of said apocalypse, Wells must journey in the dark until erosion frees him, which it eventually does, far far in the future.

The traveler finds a garden-like world with fruits in abundance.  Its inhabitants, the Eloi, dress simply and frolic with nary a care.  At first, Wells believes he has found paradise.  His first indication that something is amiss is the near-drowning of the lovely girl, Weena, whose friends watch her plight (and her rescue by Wells) with dispassion.  Then, at supper in the ruined remains of a magnificent hall, Wells finds the denizens of the future almost simple in their incuriosity, ignorance, and illiteracy.  In one of the most effective scenes of the movie, Wells is taken to a library only to have the books, long neglected and unread, crumble in his fingers.

Disgusted, Wells returns to his point of origin, but the time machine has been stolen, dragged into a nearby locked building topped with a sculpture of an inhuman head.  Weena braves the darkness to warn Wells that the night belongs to the Morlocks, another people who produce the food and clothes for the Eloi.  Indeed, one tries to kidnap Weena, but Wells saves her, further winning her trust and loyalty.

The next morning, Weena takes Wells to a musuem of sorts.  There, Wells learns that the twofold split in humanity resulted from a terrible biological war.  One group elected to stay in the relative safety of their underground complex of shelters, while others attempted to survive on the barren surface. 

Wells decides to investigate the Morlocks, who inhabit a vast subterranean factory complex.  But before he gets far, he hears the wailing of air raid sirens (with which he had become acqauinted during his sojourn through the 20th Century), and Weena abandons him.  In fact, all of the Eloi are marching in an uncomprehending daze toward the strange "Sphinx" building.  Several dozen, including Weena, wander inside, before the sirens cease and the building's doors close.

"What happens to them?" Wells wants to know.  "They never come back," he is told. 

Wells encounters an acute lack of interest when he proposes that a rescue be launched, so he strikes out underground on his own.  There, he finds that the Morlocks are cannibals, feeding off the captured Eloi.  Such is the arrangement of this new world: the Eloi may live a carefree, short life, but in the end, they must pay dearly for their bliss.

But that order is about to change.  Wells rallies the captured Eloi to defend themselves against the Morlocks.  With their help, and a lot of matches, Wells frees the prisoners.  They then feed the conflagration Wells started underground with heaps of dead wood, and the factory complex collapses.

Afterward, a wistful Wells laments the loss of his machine, but delights in the romantic bond growing between him and Weena. 

As the two settle into an embrace, one of the Eloi arrives with news.  The Sphinx is open, and his machine is inside! 

But it turns out that this is just a baited trap.  Once inside the building, the doors close, and Wells is beset by Morlocks.  He barely manages to escape into the past.

His story (and dinner) complete, Wells is once again met with incredulity.  His guests all leave, save for Philby, who has been convinced.  But he is too late to stop Wells, who has already departed again for the future.  This time, he isn't going empty-handed: missing from Wells' library are three books, their contents unknown.

We are left with the lingering question, "Which three books would you take?"

I am gratified with the respect George Pal has shown Wells' original material.  It would have been nice if we could have seen an adaptation of the latter part of the book, where Wells journeys into the far future to witness the frozen death of the Earth, but I can see why this section, while lovely, was discarded as superfluous. 

But the essence of the story, this cautionary parable, is intact, and Wells' indomitable idealism is well-portrayed by Taylor, who essentially performs a one-man show throughout most of the film.  I expect this will be his breakthrough role.  Alan Young also deserves praise for his double role as Wells' friend, Philby, and as Philby's son.  His Scottish accent was certainly better than Pat Boone's!  As for Yvette Mimieux, who plays Weena, hers is a role that does not require much range, nor does Ms. Mimieux strain herself.  One wonders what Wells sees in her, but perhaps it is her tabula rasa nature, unblemished by modern sentiment, that appeals.  Or maybe's it's the short skirt.

The cinematography, sets, and models are just lovely.  This is a lush production with some truly impressive stop-motion work.  Due to its setting in the Victorian past (lovely costumes!) and the far future, and thanks to the highly professional film and effects work, I suspect The Time Machine will never seem dated.

Highly recommended.  5 stars of 5.

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Movies

[July 23, 1960] Beyond the Schlock Barrier! (Beyond the Time Barrier)

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Every week, Rod Serling talks about the "Twilight Zone" between fear and knowledge, science and superstition, light and dark.  He might have added sublimity and schlock.  Every few weeks or so, my daughter and I plunge into that twilight zone known as the cinema.  Sometimes, we find quality in the lowest budget movies.  Other times, we leave an A-rater in disappointment. 

This time, we found ourselves truly in the middle ground.  Beyond the Time Barrier hardly has the luster of a high-budget production, but neither is it the worst of the C-rate sludge. 

First, a summary:

Major William Allison is a modern-day Air Force test pilot.  At the zenith of his first suborbital flight in the "X-80" (looking suspiciously like one of the new F-102 interceptors), he finds himself hurled forward some 64 years.  He does not discover this immediately–when Allison arrives at the decayed ruins of "Sands Air Force Base," he hasn't a clue what's happened.  This bit is nicely done and strongly reminiscent of the debut episode of The Twilight Zone, even to Allison's shouting of its title: "Where is everybody?"

We soon find out.  Allison is shot unconscious by a ray gun controlled by the Security Captain of an underground citadel.  When the pilot comes to, he is in the custody of several armed guards and one lovely young maiden.  After a brief questioning by the Captain and his boss, the citadel's "Controller," and a stint in the city dungeon, populated by bald mutants, Allison is given free run of the city.  It seems that Trirene, the Controller's granddaughter, has taken a liking to Allison.  The pilot finds the city a strange place, beautifully constructed, but its people are all deaf-mutes with the exception of the Controller, his Captain, and the insane-seeming mutants.  Trirene is a special case–she is a telepath, which makes things awfully convenient for Allison.

There is one other group of humans in the city: the Escapes.  Like Allison, they are people who flew their spacecraft fast enough, and in the right trajectories, to end up in the future.  Two are scientists from 1994, residents of planetary colonies.  Another is a Russian space pilot from 1973.  They inform Allison that the Earth has been doomed by atomic testing, which has destroyed the atmospheric/magnetospheric layer that protects the surface from hard radiation.  All the people left are sterile or mutated.  Allison is wanted so that he can mate with Trirene and foster a new generation.

Lucky Allison!  But he is persuaded by the Escapes to try flying back in his rocket plane on a path that will take him back to 1960 in the hopes that he might warn the world of their impending doom.  The Russian pilot frees all the mutants as a distraction–they ravage the city, pouncing on the fleeing citizens and eating them alive.  This is the scene the trailers boasted as making the film "the scariest ever made!"  More on this later.

Then the plan goes to Hell.  Each of the Escapes, in turn, betrays Allison for a chance to fly back to their own time.  Trirene is killed in a scuffle with the last one.  The Controller, bereaved, wishes Allison luck and sends him on his way.


My daughter observed at this point, "I don't know how they got the cameraman up there… but they sure aren't going to be able to bring him down!"

Allison makes it back, and he is able to warn his colleagues, but the movie has a twist: Allison has returned an old, feeble man–the consequence of Breaking the Time Barrier.. backwards, I imagine.

The End

I'll be honest in my admission that i enjoyed the film, though I likely would not remember it a year from now if not for the commiting of my thoughts on it to print in this article.  There is uneven pacing, some truly bad acting (particularly the Captain), ridiculous science, and plot holes big enough to plunge an X-80 through (for instance, if the scientists who drew up Allison's flight plan all wanted to go back to their own time, how can Allison use that plan to get back to 1960?).  The special effects are of the crudest sophistication.  I can take or leave the "atomic testing will doom us" plot.  I find that reviewers often praise a movie for its moralizing messages, but this one falls flat for me.

But the citdael is lovely, with a fine unifiying triangular motif.  I have since learned that the "set" was actually a model city of the future built for the Texas State Fair in Dallas last year.  There are two female characters of note: the truly lovely and charming Trirene and the canny Russian pilot, Markova.  I thought the scenes depicting the mutant attack were effective, though my daughter cared too little about the citizens to be disturbed by their grisly deaths.  I appreciated the lack of antagonists through much of the movie. 

My daughter called the film "mediocre."  She may be right, but the film won't be a total waste of your evening, particularly if the popcorn is extra tasty.

I'm off to Japan, tomorrow!  Expect updates to be slightly delayed, but with exciting photographic supplements.

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Movies

[July 17, 1960] Lost Time (The Lost World)

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Let's play a name association game.  When I say "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle," what comes to mind?  Sherlock Holmes, I'll wager.  But did you know that, in addition to being a quite accomplished non-fiction writer (his The War in South Africa: Its Causes and Conduct won him a knighthood), Conan Doyle was also a science fiction writer?  Contemporary with Edgar Rice Burroughs, Conan Doyle wrote a series of adventures starring the irascible Professor Challenger.

The first one, The Lost World, involves a trip to a remote South American plateau where dinosaurs still thrive.  This was the sort of conceit one could get away with in Edwardian times, back when there were still blank areas on the map where dragons might reside.  Burroughs, for instance, placed an entire mini-continent in the Pacific Ocean, also populated with dinosaurs, in his Caspak series.

With giant lizards festooned with costume accoutrements now a fad (e.g. Journey to the Center of the Earth), it is no surprise that Hollywood is looking for vehicles to showcase this new advancement in special effects.  Hence, The Lost World has found its way onto the silver screen.

Now, I'd been looking forward to this flick, in large part because I mistakenly thought it was going to be a movie about Burroughs' Pellucidar series (sort of an updated Journey to the Center of the Earth).  I don't know where I got that impression.  Nevertheless, Lost World is in color, and it's a lovely Cinemascope production, so I kept my cinema tickets and, with little difficulty, enticed my daughter to join me for a night at the movies.

Would that I could turn back time.

Every movie starts with a reserve of good will.  In this case, Lost World had its esteemed provenance and an exciting premise going for it.  It then proceeded to squander this reserve by engaging in an interminable scene in which Professor Challenger announces his discovery of dinosaurs in Amazonia and his intention to launch a second expedition.  This takes up nearly a tenth of the movie.

At first, the Professor rejects the few volunteers he receives, with the exception of Lord John Roxton, a (putatively) British adventurer with a California accent.  Challenger is later induced to accept reporter Ed Malone at the urging of Malone's editor, who offers $100,000 to fund the expedition.  Challenger's plummy associate, Professor Summerlee, also tags along.

This meager group is augmented upon arrival in South America by the craven, bearded Costa, and the suave Manuel Gomez (Fernando Lamas).  Gomez, despite his unconvincing guitar-playing skills (which the movie showcases as often as it can), is easily the most compelling character in the movie.

The Challenger expedition also expands to include Malone's editor's two children, Jennifer and David Holmes.  As in Journey to the Center of the Earth, much is made of Jennifer's gender.  Sadly, unlike the strong female lead in last year's movie, Jennifer is largely relegated to mooning over Roxton, falling in love with Malone, and generally ending up in distress.

Thus completed, the party embarks on a helicopter trip to the prehistoric plateau.  Thankfully, the vehicle is far larger on the inside than on the outside, and also whisper-quiet, so the expedition suffers few of the difficulties of associated with air travel.

Upon arriving, we learn that Jennifer has brought along a companion, which my daughter immediately dubbed "Gertrude."  Once again, this character compares poorly to its Journey counterpart, the plucky waterfowl that was several times the Lindenbrook Expedition's salvation.  Gertrude the dog is just an accessory, like a purse or scarf.

That night, Challenger's camp is assaulted by a rampaging "Brontosaurus," which looks suspiciously iguana-esque.  Gomez' helicopter is destroyed, stranding the expedition on the plateau.  This does little to dampen Challenger's spirits, however, and the next morning, he leads his party deep into the jungle in search of more prehistoric beasts.

His search soon leads to fruition, though I am beginning to doubt Professor Challenger's academic credentials.  I am reasonably certain, for instance, that dinosaurs were not lizards.

Soon after, Challenger finds a lovely native girl.  She is, of course, captured by the party, presumably for later dissection and display, or perhaps as insurance against when provisions are exhausted.  The native falls in love with David, though there is never an indication as to why.

The plot thickens slightly upon the discovery of evidence that another expedition preceded Challenger's.  It turns out that Roxton was a member of that party, which had come to the plateau in search of the famed treasure of El Dorado.  All but Roxton perished in the endeavor, including a fellow named Santiago.  It seems Roxton abandoned Santiago, with whom Gomez had a strong connection.  The helicopter pilot even carries a locket with Santiago's picture.  At first, I thought this was going to be a particularly daring film, but it later develops that Gomez and Santiago were brothers.

The remainder of the film is a sequence of unrelated, action-filled vignettes of unbearable length.  First, we are treated to an interminable clash of dinosaurs, exhausting any remaining hopes the audience might have entertained that anything resembling a real dinosaur would appear in the film.

Then, the party is captured by cannibals, who imprison them in their cave pending an invitation to dinner. 

The party escapes with the aid of the smitten native girl as well as a member of Roxton's first expedition, who turns up alive but blind.

But they're not out of the woods yet.  First, the party must spelunk endlessly through the chambers of an active volcano.

And then, on the brink of safety, Gomez brandishes his pistol and vows to avenge his brother.  The Argentine is easily subdued, but the party is then visited by another saurian attack.  Costa is gobbled up, but Roxton saves Gomez from a similar fate.  The balance books now even, Gomez sacrifices himself for the good of the party, killing a dinosaur with a handy lava flow.

The party seems less than aggrieved by the loss of its latin companions.  Rather, they delight in having escaped with their lives, a significant number of roughcut diamonds, and a newly hatched "Tyrannosaurus."  The End.

It really is fascinating to compare Lost World to Journey.  On the surface, they are surprisingly similar films.  Yet the level of craftsmanship is so poor in Lost World, with the possible exception of the cinematography.  It just goes to show that "A" status is no guarantee of a movie's quality, just as "B" status does not necessarily reflect an unworthy effort (e.g. The Wasp Woman).

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Movies

[June 25, 1960] Sting in its Tale (The Wasp Woman)

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Necessity is the mother of invention.  What is a review writer to do when all the literary science fiction material to review has dried up?

Why, it's time to head to the drive-in and sample the visual science fiction material!

Now, I've been dreading this avenue because the Summer blockbuster line-up hasn't hit the silver screen yet, and all the schlock-houses are filled with, well, schlock.  Like 12 to the Moon.  Moreover, my daughter is away at camp, so I don't have my usual date for the movies.

Still, I have a duty to provide entertaining reading and listening material for my fans, now that you number over ten.  It wouldn't do to take a week hiatus just because my queue is empty.  So I scoured the listing in the local paper and found a cinema in Oceanside that still had The Wasp Woman (paired with another film, in which I had no interest) and resigned myself to a lonely, miserable evening with naught but Roger Corman and a bag of popcorn. 

Imagine my surprise when my wife, who normally has an allergic aversion to sci-fi drek, offered to come along! 

As it turns out, the movie was surprisingly decent (and very short–about an hour), and we never got to emulate our parked neighbors by engaging in a proper bout of necking.  Here is what we got for our troubles:


Africanized Honey Wasps

I was expecting one of those rural numbers where a bunch of badly acted cops chase after a rubber-suited monster, the kind that feasts on young couples in lover's lane.  The sort of thing that Ed Wood is (in)famous for.

Instead, Wasp Woman takes place almost entirely within the board room and offices of the Starling Cosmetics Company, a business with an 18-year history of success that is currently suffering a precipitous downturn.  Why?  The ad execs (not all of whom are men!) and the company executive (a woman!) are in agreement that the lag in sales occurred when the owner of the company, Janice Starlin, stopped supporting the product lines with her own face.  Ms. Starlin believes that a 40-year old, no matter how lovely, cannot be a convincing glamour girl.


Absolutely hideous

This sets up a plausible motivation for Starlin's next actions.  She has recently received a letter from a Mr. Zinthrop, an eccentric old scientist who claims to have found the secret to eternal youth: enzyme extracted from the wasp royal jelly.  She is skeptical, at first, but he convinces her by reverting a cat to a kitten and a guinea pig to… a rat.  Well, I suppose it was meant to be a guinea piglet.  Starlin then requests that Zinthrop test the product on her.  He is reluctant to begin human trials so soon, but he ultimately gives in.


Sherlock Holmes: The Later Years

Starlin gives Zinthrop carte blanche, and he proceeds to produce enough enzyme to restore Starlin's youth. 


Job title?  Er… how about 'mad scientist'?

Over the course of several weeks, the elixir begins to work, but its progress is not quick enough for Starlin, who feels (perhaps justifiably) that her company is teetering on the brink, and only her face can bring it back.  After Zinthrop mentions off-handedly that he is working on a stronger version of the formula for use in topical creams, Starlin sneaks a dose.


Heroin is good for the skin, you know

The new concoction works a miracle, restoring Starlin to her early 20s.  She announces that, not only will she be launching the new line of Starlin cosmetics, but she intends to market this astounding new product. 

But all is not well in mad science land.  One of the cats injected with the new formula grows vestigial wasp wings and attacks Zinthrop.  He survives, but he is crestfallen.  Unusually, he's got a conscience, and he wants to tell Starlin as soon as possible, but he is involved in an automobile accident before he can convey the message.

Starlin, desperate to retain her youth (it's never stated that multiple doses are necessary, but perhaps she's just become addicted to the formula), quickly runs through the rest of Zinthrop's injections, unaware of the danger to herself… and others.

Meanwhile, Starlin's staff continue to worry for their bosses' physical and mental health.  At first, they are concerned that Zinthrop is a simple confidence man.  Then they become convinced he is a quack, and that his promises will do irrepairable harm to Starlin's psyche.  When Starlin rejuvenates, their worries allay briefly, but then she begins suffering from piercing headaches.


"She retracted her support for Kennedy right after she started taking wasp extract…"

The oldest of the execs decides to snoop around in the laboratory and see what's up.  There, he is attacked by a hideous wasp woman, who beats him unconscious and devours him completely.  This effect is as low-budget as one might expect from a movie with a $50,000 bankroll.  Still, the transformed Starlin does look sufficiently creepy, and Corman wisely keeps her in the shadows.


The New Face of Starlin Cosmetics!

After the susbsequent grisly death of the company's night watchman, concern rises.  Zinthrop is found and taken to the company building, but he can't remember what he was going to tell Starlin.  She pleads with him to help her, but he cannot. 


"Blink twice if I should stop taking wasp extract and killing innocent people."

Agitated, she turns into a wasp woman again and kills Zinthrop's nurse.  Starlin's secretary and her boyfriend show up shortly thereafter.  Starlin bites and drags off the secretary, but the wasp woman is stopped by a combination of carbolic acid and a velocitious defenestration before she can kill again.

Cue credits.

This is such an odd movie.  I've said many times that my favorite part of a horror film is the first twenty minutes when it seems that things will be hunky dory for all concerned.  The stronger extract isn't even introduced until halfway through the movie's running time, and the wasp woman doesn't make her debut until the last 20 minutes. 

As a result, what you really have is an interesting sort of character drama.  Aging cosmetics company queen must cope with an increasingly desperate situation.  What sells this drama is Ms. Susan Cabot (originally Harriet Shapiro).  Yes, the Ms. Cabot who was the paramour of the young King Hussein of Jordan last year before he found out she was Jewish.  She takes the role seriously, and I found myself caring less about seeing the wasp monster and more about her dilemma.  In fact, the whole thing feels a bit like an episode of The Twilight Zone: a personal crisis with a detour into the surreal. 

It's hardly perfect, of course.  It's a clear filching of The Fly, even down to the utterance of "Heeeelp me!"  The frenetic jazz soundtrack, a hallmark of a lot of movies these days, will either be your cup of tea or it won't.  While Cabot is generally good, the rest of the cast has its uneven moments, though rarely distractingly so.

On the other hand, the film's watchability is aided by its rather progressive attitude.  The cast is balanced quite evenly, gender-wise, and there is very little of the sexism that characterizes our culture these days.  Starlin is a quite sympathetic character, with the sort of strength and poise one would expect of a corporate head.

Add to that the not-unsuccessful moralizing (an anti-drug message, an anti-reckless science message), and you've got a thoroughly enjoyable hour of entertainment.  Of course, it's just that.  It's not art for the ages.  But as we saw in I married a Monster from Outer Space, one can find quality in the oddest of places.

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Movies

[June 14, 1960] 12 Angry Astronauts (12 to the Moon)

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Sometimes, the Journey goes to the movies; sometimes, we're sorry we did.

If you are a regular reader of this column, or you tune in to KGJ, you've probably read some of my film reviews.  An off-script discussion was broadcast recently summing up all the movies my daughter and I have watched since the Journey took off. 

We've seen some excellent flicks and some bad flicks, but I don't think we've ever seen anything quite so bad as what we saw last weekend, the newly released…

First, the summary.  12 to the Moon is, as one might expect, the story of the world's first lunar landing, some time near the end of the 20th Century.  The incredibly capacious spacecraft, Lunar Eagle One, features a truly international crew, and two of them are even women.  The leader of the expedition is, naturally, an American and the hunkiest of the bunch.  Other nationalities represented include the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Israel, Russia (not the Soviet Union), Poland, Brazil, Turkey, Japan, Sweden, and Nigeria.

The ship is atomic powered, so the whole flight takes all of three hours.  Yet, in that time, the crew feels compelled to take a shower (don't worry–they use waterless sonic showers to get clean).  I'm thinking the lead actor really wanted to do this scene, or perhaps the director really wanted to see him in this scene.  Why buy beefcake if you're just going to leave it in the freezer?

Along the way, the ship runs into a swarm of meteors that make little whizzing noises as they fly by.  Thanks to the skillful Nigerian navigator, and the help of a conventional two dimensional compass, they avoid the hazard.

The Moon turns out to be a place of wonders.  Water vapor sublimates from open vents.  Gold is found in giant nuggets.  Two of the crew, apparently lovebirds with a long history, find a cave with air inside.  They promptly take off their helmets to sample it, the most scientific method available to them, I'm sure.



But the Moon also holds its horrors.  First, the romantic pair disappear into a misty portal.  Then, the Russian scientist burns his hands on a stream of liquid.  Several of the crew get caught in a deep pool of pumice quicksand.

The crew returns to the ship at least three members short (it's hard to keep track).  Whereupon they begin getting teletype messages from the telepathic inhabitants of the Moon.  The script is ostensibly East Asian, and the Japanese scientist can read it.  But I can tell you as someone fluent in Japanese, that ain't no Kanji.

In any event, the Moon People are sick of humanity bombarding them with probes.  They've decided to keep the romantic pair for study of the emotion called "love."  They also want a couple of cats, which were thoughtfully brought along aboard Lunar Eagle One.  They don't ask for the dog or the monkeys.  Well, there's no faulting the aliens for taste.  Then, the aliens tell the remaining humans to go home.

On the way back, there is more drama.  They dodge another swarm of meteors–I guess they just sort of hang out in cislunar space.  The Israeli and the German, who started the journey wary of each other, become fast friends when the latter has a heart attack and reveals that his father was an inhuman Nazi, for whose memory he has devoted his life to atoning.

As the ship nears the Earth, an ominous silence greets the radio calls from Lunar Eagle One.  Upon closer inspection, it appears that the entire Western Hemisphere has undergone some sort of deep freeze, the obvious work of the Moon People.

The Russian hatches a plan to save the Earth–by dropping an atomic bomb into a big volcano.  Of course.  Why didn't I think of that?  And why, if it's so obvious, didn't anyone in the Eastern Hemisphere think of it?

The German and the Israeli, now the best of pals, draw the short straws to drop the bomb in a little shuttlecraft.  Their aim is true, but it has no effect on the alien ray.  Moreover, they die in the process.

But not in vain!  For the Moon People were watching their noble sacrifice, and they decide that people ain't so bad after all.  Thus, they turn off their freeze beam (which by this time was chilling Lunar Eagle One as well), and it develops that everyone who was frozen is actually just fine, thank you.

Cue happy music…

And…

So, that probably all sounds pretty good, doesn't it?  It looks pretty good, too, thanks to the cinematography of veteran John Alton.

But it's not.  It's stultifyingly boring.  The "plot" is just a series of events, one after another, with no real cohesion.  The acting is the worst kind of wooden.  The science is poor (though I did appreciate that the ship turned around half way to the Moon rather than accelerating the whole way).  There are concessions to the tiny budget–for instance, the helmets don't even have visors.  Halfway through, my daughter was pounding her seat in frustration and asking to leave. 

I'm a bad dad.  I wouldn't let her go.

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