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[August 30, 1968] TV or Not TV, That is The Question (They Saved Hitler's Brain and Mars Needs Women)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Big Screen, Small Screen, and Somewhere Between

Not all movies show up in theaters. Movies made for television began a few years ago, at least here in the USA, with a thriller called See How They Run. There have been quite a few since then.

A similar phenomenon is the fact that theatrical movies are frequently altered for television. Of course, films are often cut for broadcast, either to reduce the running time or to remove material deemed inappropriate for the tender sensibilities of American viewers.

But did you know that new footage is sometimes added to movies before they show up on TV? That's because they're too short to fill up the time slot allotted to them.

An example is Roger Corman's cheap little monster movie The Wasp Woman. In theaters, it ran just over an hour. On television, new scenes increased the length by about ten minutes.

Wasting time in front of the TV screen recently, I came across such an elongated theatrical film, as well as one made for television only. Let's take a look at both.

They Saved Hitler's Brain

This thing began life in 1963 under the a much less laughable title.


Anybody who went to see this movie pushed the panic button.

The Madmen of Mandoras (somehow they lost the word The on the poster) was a low budget flick that lasted about an hour (although it probably seemed a lot longer than that if you were stuck watching it.)


Dramatic lettering, dramatic clouds.

New stuff was added to the beginning of the film to make it long enough to show up on TV. Unlike The Wasp Woman, they gave it a new title.


Apparently, the American television audience needs everything spelled out for them.

That gives away the movie's only plot twist, but at least it's truth in advertising.

Let's get the new stuff out of the way. We begin with a scientist carrying some important papers out of a lab.


Secure scientific facility or local high school?

The guy is almost immediately killed when his car blows up.


Exploding car number one.

The fellow was carrying the formula for an antidote to a deadly gas. Somebody doesn't want that information to get out.


Big news!

This event draws the attention of some kind of intelligence agency. The boss (who turns out to be working with the bad guys, although that doesn't really have much to do with the plot) assigns a couple of operatives to investigate the incident.


Secret agents or college students?

The man's long hair and mustache and the woman's short skirt provide evidence that we're not in 1963. Don't get too attached to these characters, because pretty soon the woman is shot dead and the man is killed another way.


Exploding car number two.

At this point, we go back to the original movie. After demonstrating the deadly power of the gas by showing a film of an elephant lying down, the scientist who knows the antidote for the stuff and his young beatnik daughter are kidnapped.


It's quite obviously just taking a nap.

Our nominal hero is the husband of the scientist's older daughter. Some guy reveals enough information to the married couple to send them off to the fictional Latin American nation of Mandoras (you know, the place where they have madmen) before getting shot dead. The protagonists deal with the problem of his corpse by stuffing it in a phone booth.


"When in Mandoras, stay at the luxurious Mandoras Hotel."

Another guy shows up and provides exposition. It seems that a team of Nazi doctors worked to preserve the Führer for future use at the end of the war. (In other words, They Saved Hitler's Brain.)


"We must save Charlie Chaplin's life!"

The two lovebirds act like ordinary tourists despite this remarkable bit of information. They happen to run across the younger daughter in a local nightclub. The kidnappers gave her some money and told her to have a good time, as long as she didn't contact anybody at home. She seems perfectly fine with this arrangement, despite the fact that her father is still in the hands of the bad guys.


Little sister doing the Twist, proof that we're in 1963.

Since we're in a nightclub, we have to kill time with a dance act. After all, we have a whole hour of movie to fill.


A little something for the leg men in the audience.

Somehow or other our heroes wind up in the secret headquarters of the Madmen of Mandoras. Dad is being tortured with bright lights and loud noises in an attempt to get him to reveal the secret of the antidote. Like a lot of other things in the film, this doesn't make much sense, since the bad guys just want to stop the antidote from being used.


"Let me out of this movie! I can't stand it any more!"

Then we get our big shock scene, which might have been surprising if the title didn't give it away.


As an example of the film's close attention to detail, note that the swastika is backwards.

Obviously the bad guys are familiar with The Brain That Wouldn't Die.


A jarring scene (sorry.)

Adolph isn't very expressive throughout the movie, but once in a while he shows some emotion.


"I am amused by your consternation."

After a lot of running around, the bad guys are defeated.


Car explosion number three.

So much for the Fourth Reich.


Adolph turns into a wax dummy when he burns up.

A dreary little spy movie, notable only for its silly premise.

One star.

Mars Needs Women

Director Larry Buchanan made some very cheap films during the past few years. Starting last year, he's been responsible for extremely low budget color remakes — uncredited, of course — of old black-and-white science fiction and horror films. These are intended to be sold directly to television. Zontar, the Thing From Venus, for example, is obviously based on Roger Corman's 1956 flick It Conquered the World.

His latest effort in this vein is, in my opinion, very loosely inspired by the beach movie Pajama Party (which doesn't actually take place on the beach, but you know what I mean.)

Don't believe me? I don't blame you, but I'll provide some evidence in a bit. Let's get started.


Even the titles are cheap.

We start with a few scenes of women suddenly disappearing, whether they're playing tennis, at a restaurant, or taking a shower. Don't pay any attention to this, as it never comes up again.

The plot really starts at a government facility.


Does NASA really need a lot of decoding?

They get a message from outer space that says — you guessed it — Mars Need Women. Thanks for reminding me what movie I'm watching!

A Martian appears from nowhere, without even the shimmering effect seen on Star Trek. His name is Dop, and he's played by Tommy Kirk, star of some Disney movies. He also played a Martian named Go Go in — a-ha! — Pajama Party. Coincidence? I think not.


"Make fun of my name and I'll disintegrate you."

Dop explains that some kind of problem with the Martian Y chromosome has resulted in men outnumbering women by one hundred to one. (That's a lot worse than Five to Twelve.)

The Martians would like to have five Earth women volunteer to journey to the red planet to solve the problem. (I'm not a geneticist or a mathematician, but that seems like an awfully small number to repopulate a whole planet.)

No dice, so we get some scenes of military types communicating on the radio.


This speaker gets so much screen time it's practically a guest star.

There's also a bunch of stock footage of planes flying around.


"I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth . . ."

This accomplishes nothing. The Martians decide to land on Earth and grab five women themselves. (Like I said, forget about their ability to just make women vanish.)


The Martian spaceship, not to be confused with the Enterprise.

Five Martians hide out in an abandoned ice factory and make plans.


"We will conquer these puny Earthlings with the advanced technology of flashlights and headphones."

First they have to disguise themselves as Earthlings. This requires some criminal activity. A gas station supplies cash and a map of the city. (I would have thought the Martians would be advanced enough to find their way around, but I guess not.)


"I sure hope this place has a men's room."

Next is borrowing a car. So much for using their power of teleportation for getting from point A to point B.


"Oh, cool, it's got AM/FM radio."

Then they need some clothes. This leads to a scene in which they reveal that Martians gave up wearing ties fifty years ago.


"Would this be too dressy for a kidnapping?"

Dop and one of his buddies spot an announcement for a lecture by a brilliant scientist. We're told that her book Space Genetics won a Pulitzer Prize.


A lecture on sex in space? Must be a science fiction convention.

Doctor Marjorie Bolen is played by Yvonne Craig, best known for playing Batgirl on the popular Batman TV show. So the audience can tell she's a genius, she sometimes wears spectacles.


"Why Doctor Bolen, you're beautiful without your glasses!"

Pretty soon Dop and Bolen (sounds like a law firm) are on a date at a local planetarium. Guess what's on display.


Irony!

Meanwhile, the other Martians stalk their intended targets. The first is an exotic dancer.


A guy far away from home? Of course he goes to a strip club!

Next is an airline stewardess.


"Coffee, tea, or me?" (Yeah, I stole that from the title of a recent book. Sue me.)

Third is a homecoming queen.


"Two, Four, Six, Eight, Who Will We Repopulate?"

Last is a painter. That doesn't quite fit with the other three, who are typical male fantasies of desirable women, but I guess they needed some variety.


"I call this one Portrait of the Artist as an Impending Victim of Abduction."

Naturally, the disappearances are big news.


"Oh, look what's showing on TV tonight."

The authorities seem powerless to stop them.


"Martians, Shmartians, let's see what Little Orphan Annie is up to."

Suffice to say that romance blooms between Dop and Bolen, even though we're told Martians gave up love long before they gave up ties. The kidnapped women are rescued and the Martians go home, apparently to face the extinction of their species.


"Let's see, Mrs. Marjorie Dop. Nah, it would never work."

A very silly film indeed.

One star.

Surely there's something better on television than these two losers.


Maybe not.




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Comics, Movies

[August 22, 1968] Vive de Gaul– Asterix the Gaul Movie

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by Fiona Moore

At an event at the Institut Français in London recently, I was able to see the newly-translated animated film Asterix the Gaul (made in 1967, but only released in English this year). While it’s not a great adaptation, it is nice to see a series that’s only growing in popularity in the French-speaking world getting wider exposure.

Asterix the Gaul movie poster
Asterix the Gaul movie poster

In case you’ve missed the Asterix phenomenon, some background. Asterix le Gaulois, or Asterix the Gaul, is a Franco-Belgian comic from the writing and drawing team of Goscinny and Uderzo, originally serialised in 1959, with the first album coming out in 1961. Since then it’s only become more and more popular, with the ninth album, Asterix et les Normands (Asterix and the Normans) reaching 1.2 million sales in its first two days of release earlier this year.

On the face of it, Asterix might seem an unlikely hit. The story is a humourous historical fantasy, starting with a “what if…” premise to the effect that, after Caesar conquered Gaul and, as any schoolchild studying Latin knows, divided it into three parts, a small Gaulish village remained unconquered, due to their druid having invented a magic potion that gives the drinker super-strength. Our protagonist, Asterix, is a diminutive but sharp-witted warrior; his best pal is Obelix, a giant who has permanent super-strength due to having fallen in a vat of magic potion as a baby. Together, they have adventures traveling around Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, resisting Romans and meeting interesting, if frequently ethnically stereotyped, people.

Asterix' pal Obelix is a menhir salesman. He's barely in this story.
Asterix' pal Obelix is a menhir salesman. He's barely in this story.

However, if you have a chance to read the albums, you can see the appeal. The puns are thick, heavy and groanworthy (particularly as regards the character names: the Gauls all have names ending in -ix, meaning we get people called Assurancetourix and Abracourix, and the Romans in -us, giving us Humerus and Fleurdelotus), and the anachronism humour nonstop. Additionally Goscinny and Uderzo have a lot of affectionate fun with projecting stereotypes of modern European nations back onto their Roman past equivalents. The story of plucky, likeable people resisting an oppressor is one with relevance to all political stripes. The Romans are always comically stupid and the violence cartoonish, keeping the tone from getting too heavy for children.

Asterix and Panoramix resisting Roman oppression
Asterix and Panoramix resisting Roman oppression

The series has appeared in English translation twice before now, both times in English children’s comics (Valiant and Ranger) and on neither occasion faithful, transporting the action to ancient Britain in the apparent belief that British audiences would be incapable of sympathising with French characters. However, word at the Institut is that an approved translation by Anthea Bell is currently in production and should be released next year.

Our hero was described in one English translation as an "ancient Brit with bags of grit." No, really.
Our hero was described in one English translation as an "ancient Brit with bags of grit." No, really.

The film Asterix the Gaul is a 70-minute animation, apparently originally planned as a telemovie but instead winding up in cinematic release. The visuals are, for the most part, decently done, and it has a jaunty theme tune by Gerard Calvi. The English voice cast are for the most part adopting American accents (the main exceptions being Stopthemusix the Bard and Julius Caesar, who are both using British received pronunciation), which seems an odd decision as French comics popular in other markets, such as Tintin, don’t generally do well in the American sphere, and it might be better to try and sell to the wider English-speaking world.

The plot more or less follows that of the comic album Asterix le Gaulois, the first adventure in the series. Roman centurion Phonus Balonus (Caius Bonus in the original comic), wanting to know the secret of the Gauls’ super-strength, sends a spy into the village disguised as a Gaul. Upon learning that the secret is the potion brewed by druid Panoramix, the Romans kidnap him, with Phonus Balonus planning to use his strengthened legions to become Emperor. Asterix sneaks into their camp with a view to rescuing Panoramix, but, on finding his friend in good spirits and having fun winding up the Romans, Asterix surrenders and joins him, with the pair living a luxurious life at the Romans’ expense. Finally Panoramix pretends to give in, but in fact brews a potion which makes the drinkers’ hair and beards grow uncontrollably. Realising that they can’t keep the gag going indefinitely, Panoramix pretends to brew an antidote, while also secretly furnishing Asterix with a small amount of magic potion. When the pair make their escape, they run into Caesar himself, who has come to investigate the mysterious goings-on in person.

Julius Caesar does not approve of Panoramix' beard-growing potion.
Julius Caesar does not approve of Panoramix's beard-growing potion.

The decision to adapt the first book in the series, and without the input of the creators, is arguably the film’s biggest problem. A lot of the running gags and characters which have contributed to the series’ appeal, such as Obelix’s tiny dog Idéfix and the ongoing feud between fishmonger Ordraflfabétix and blacksmith Cétautomatix, were worked out in later volumes, and the story feels thin without them. Although Asterix has never exactly been known for its female characters (there are exactly two women regulars, both stereotypes and only one having an actual name), in the film the village seems to be a homosexual commune, with no women or children at all. Goscinny and Uderzo were reportedly very unhappy with this movie, and it’s a shame they weren’t involved, as they could have revised their earlier story to include this later material.

The translation is generally serviceable. The punning names are retained and even arguably improved, with the bard Assurancetourix becoming Stopthemusix and Abraracourcix the chief becoming Tonabrix. The narration has a few heavy-handed gags like “Caesar had a lot of Gaul,” and there are more subtle jokes for those who remember their classics, like Phonus Balonus proposing to his second-in-command Marcus Sourpus that they form a triumvirate (not knowing that a triumvirate is, by definition, made up of three men). There’s a long and rather unfunny sequence with a singing ox-cart driver that feels like it’s just in to fill time, but there is also a blink-and-you-miss-it moment where Panoramix appears to be gathering marijuana in the woods.

That's some suspicious-looking smoke. Panoramix.
That's some suspicious-looking smoke. Panoramix.

All in all, while it’s not the best introduction to the series, it gives English-speaking audiences a general flavour. It’s good to see a cartoon series where the main character lives by his wits more than his fists, and where bullies are shown as hapless incompetents who can be defeated by ridicule. Reportedly a new film is in production, based on Asterix et Cleopatre (Asterix and Cleopatra), with the creators’ full involvement, and I look forward to seeing if it is an improvement.

Two and a half stars.



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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 28, 1968] Once Upon A Time, Or Maybe Twice… (Yellow Submarine)

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By Jessica Holmes

Yellow Submarine is a weird film. Directed by George Dunning and produced by Al Brodax and King Features, the latest Beatles movie is a bit different from the previous live-action offerings. For one, it’s animated, and for two… the Beatles are barely even in it. I mean, they’re in it as characters, and in person in a very brief cameo at the end, but the four themselves don’t actually voice their animated counterparts. I’m sure they’re busy smoking whatever the hell made them come up with Revolution No. 9. But that’s not the weird bit.

The weird bit is the content of this film.

Think ‘Alice In Wonderland’ if Alice sampled a rather more special kind of mushroom.

It's All In The Mind, Y'Know

Strip back all the surrealism and Yellow Submarine is a pretty straightforward adventure. The idyllic realm of Pepperland comes under attack from an army of Blue Meanies, prompting one of the inhabitants, Old Fred, to go and find help. He goes off, recruits the Beatles, then they journey back together through various locales so they can defeat the Blue Meanies through the power of music. Cue awkward live-action cameo, roll credits.

But of course, we’re not really watching this for the plot, are we?

Yellow Submarine is like a dream. As such, it operates on dream logic. Old Fred (Lance Percival) stalks a depressed Ringo (Paul Angelis) through the streets of Liverpool in a flying submarine. Ringo’s house is bigger on the inside, and has doors that open onto many different locations. John Lennon (John Clive) is Frankenstein’s Monster. George Harrison (also Paul Angelis) can manipulate reality with his mind. Paul (Geoff Hughes)… Paul’s actually pretty normal.

Their journeys take them to the Sea of Time, where they age backwards, forwards, and back again, then to the Sea of Science, where… nothing happens. Really, nothing. There’s a decent tune in this section (‘Only A Northern Song’) but it doesn’t even have any much video to go with it. It’s just soundwaves accompanied by pictures of the group. It’s an out of place sequence in a film of out of place sequences.

The weirdness immediately starts back up as the submarine sails into the Sea of Monsters, where they encounter creatures that Hieronymous Bosch would be proud of. There’s the purple elephant thing which is so ugly they bully it until it cries. There’s a pair of Kinky Boots. There’s some stuff I have no name for, and creepiest of all, a vacuum monster that goes around sucking up all the other creatures.

Ringo accidentally ejects himself from the submarine, and the others have to rescue him by deploying the submarine’s cavalry company. There’s a button for everything. Unfortunately for them, the vacuum monster immediately slurps them up, before slurping up all the other monsters, then the actual backdrop of the film, and finally itself, leaving the submarine stranded in an endless white void. They are…nowhere.

But they aren’t alone. Enter Jeremy Hillary Boob, Ph.D. (Dick Emery) a peculiar little nowhere man who speaks entirely in rhyme. He offers them a hand with their engine, and in return,Ringo, feeling sorry for the little guy’s loneliness, invites him to join them aboard the submarine.

They don’t get far before breaking down again in the foothills of the headlands, and the submarine (with Old Fred still aboard) flies off without them when they get out to fix it. So they might as well squeeze a song in. The ‘Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds’ sequence isn’t exactly plot heavy (it’s mostly just rotoscoped imagery of dancing girls) and really doesn’t have a thing to do with what’s going on, but it’s undeniably gorgeous to look at.

From there the group follows a trail of pepper to the Sea of Holes, an infinite white void filled with black holes. Three dimensional space works a little differently here. It’s as the laws of physics had been written by M.C. Escher.

Jeremy gets himself captured by a Blue Meanie, and the group eventually find a hole to the Sea of Green, and find themselves at last in Pepperland… which is decidedly lacking in green of late.

The Blue Meanies hate colour, and music, and life itself, so they’ve taken it upon themselves to cure Pepperland of these ailments.

The Beatles revive the mayor of Pepperland with a snippet of song, restoring him to life and colour, and reunite with the submarine and Old Fred. The old mayor comments that the Beatles bear an uncanny resemblance to Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and theorises that if they were to disguise themselves, they might rally the people to rebel against the Meanies.

And cue the music! I think you can guess what song they start with. The Meanies hate it, of course, but the tune brings life back to Pepperland. The group even manage to find and revive the real Lonely Hearts Club Band, teaming up with them to take the fight to the meanies. Oh, and Ringo rescues Jeremy.

Faced with the combined power of the Beatles and the Lonely Hearts Club Band, the Meanies turn and flee, despite their Chief’s exhortations. Jeremy transforms the Chief Meanie with the power of rhymes, and John extends the hand of friendship to the band’s defeated foes. The Meanies accept, and everyone joins in for a final dance party. All’s well that ends well, and here come the end credits.

But first, we must indulge the real Beatles in a clumsy cameo. The absolute flurry of puns and wordplay that are present in practically every line of Yellow Submarine are no less present here, and no less painful. With newer and bluer Meanies being spotted in the vicinity of the theatre, the Beatles sing us out.

Not Quite Right

So, sounds like a cheerful, colourful, fun little romp, right? Wrong. This film is unsettling.

And it starts barely a couple of minutes in with the arrival of the Blue Meanies.

Good grief, the Blue Meanies.

It’s not just their concept that’s creepy. Sure, sure, a villain that hates everything good and nice and is relentlessly negative. We’ve seen all that. But they are deeply unnerving to look at with their too-wide yellow grins. The Chief Meanie (also Paul Angelis…poor man, give his vocal cords a break!) is by far the creepiest. I have to give a nod to Angelis and his vocal talents for creating such a nightmare. He goes from a sickly sweet sing-song tone to irate shrieking at the drop of a hat. It gets my skin crawling.

As if the Chief Meanie wasn’t bad enough on his own, there’s his Dreadful Flying Glove to think about. It’s…well, it’s a glove. A giant, angry-looking, sentient glove that chases people across Pepperland. Sounds ridiculous? Sure. But it's a rather dreadful looking thing.

Outside of Pepperland, the seas offer plenty of discomforts. There’s obviously the Sea of Monsters with its various grotesques, but I found ‘nowhere’ to be quite creepy too. Just the idea of being alone in an infinite white void with nothing but my own thoughts for company… it gives me the shivers. I am perhaps just projecting, but I would hazard a guess that a fair few people share my feelings.

You’re not even safe from the surreal and uncanny on dry land, as Liverpool is no less peculiar. There’s an art shift in the Liverpool sequence, where the people are not drawn, but composited in from highly processed photographs and film stock. The colours are minimal, and most living things are completely static. Those that are not static are trapped in short loops of actions as the submarine passes them by. We even see someone perched on the ledge of the uppermost window of a tall building, as if about to leap. Towards the end of the sequence, there are hundreds of people on rooftops. All this, to the tune of ‘Eleanor Rigby’. It’s painting a depressing picture of the home-town of the Beatles, to say the least.

Then you’ve got Ringo’s house, and I do not like that place. He keeps a Monster around, sure, and that’s a bit off-putting, but there’s something more subtle about the place that unnerves me a lot more. It does not feel like a place where people belong. There’s a long hallway with dozens of identical doors, each opening onto a different locale entirely—even onto oncoming trains. It’s vast, and quiet, and you could get lost for hours or even days, and I don’t think anybody would be coming to find you. It’s that sort of place. There’s a palpable absence of humanity.

I searched around for the right word to describe what this film actually made me feel. ‘Unsettled’ feels too vague. It just means that I feel different from my normal emotional state. ‘Scared’ is over the top. It’s not scary. And ‘creeped out’ is too simple. It’s not all creepy. Some parts are beautiful. I think my response ultimately comes down to the atmosphere of the film. And that atmosphere is one of loneliness.

Ah, Look At All The Lonely People

There is something about this film that positively oozes an atmosphere of isolation and loneliness. Even in colourful Pepperland at the start of the film, though there are crowds of people, they’re almost entirely static and lifeless. The Mayor is at least animated enough to play the violin, but even then he’s more interested in that than in fending off the Blue Meanies or trying to escape from them. There’s precious little humanity to be found here. I think something was wrong with Pepperland long before the Blue Meanies ever showed up.

Of course, once they do, what little semblance of life there is soon goes away.

The Liverpool section, as with all the musical sections of the film, is essentially a music video for the song ‘Eleanor Rigby’, and it’s as lonely and depressing an image of the city as I have ever seen. That’s the thing with big cities—everyone lives on top of one another, but you don’t really know each other, and so you even feel alone in a crowd of people who all feel exactly the same way. ‘Look at all the lonely people’, indeed.

Ringo even says so himself.

Liverpool can be a lonely place on a Saturday night, and this is only Thursday morning.

And he would know a thing or two about loneliness, living in his cavernous house, under the same roof as his bandmates and yet with the four of them isolated from one another.

Starting to notice a pattern?

In the Sea of Monsters, the vacuum monster eventually finds itself completely alone. And so it consumes its own body. In Nowhere, Jeremy has lived his whole life by himself. Though he seems initially content with his way of life, when the Beatles are about to leave him behind, he breaks down sobbing. He’s utterly pitiful, and utterly alone.

Everyone in this film… is lonely. Scratch the surface of the colourful surrealism and catchy tunes and you’ll find a deeply melancholy undercurrent to the whole thing.

How could it fail to rub off on the audience?

Final Thoughts

Heinz Edelmann’s art direction is stunning. The extraordinary psychedelic presentation is really the key to making this film work. It’s bright, beautiful, and occasionally frightening. There’s bold, bright pop art style elements (think Warhol), but also grotesque creatures that would fit well within the pages of a medieval bestiary, or perhaps in a Dali. I’m sure the unique visual style will make this a hit with anyone with an appreciation for psychedelic art—or psychoactive substances.

Music-wise, what can I say? It’s the Beatles. If you like the Beatles (which I do), you’ll like the music. There’s a nice selection of tracks from their previous albums, and also a couple of new songs. I say new, but I’m pretty sure they’re unused tracks from previous albums. The B-sides’ B-side. Still, even if ‘All Together Now’ is not their strongest offering, it’s definitely catchy.

The band’s music might be what people are coming to this film to hear, but let’s not forget the rest of the soundtrack. ‘Fifth Beatle’ George Martin’s score is lush and romantic, tying the film together with dreamy orchestral interludes.

Finally, here’s a miscellany of thoughts about Yellow Submarine I had that don’t really relate to anything else:

The live action bit at the end is really weird. And I don’t mean surrealist weird, I mean ‘deeply awkward and filled me with a sense of vicarious embarrassment’ weird. It’s probably there to fulfill contractual obligations, but they could have at least tried to act less awkward than a group of unprepared teenagers giving a school presentation. I suppose it was at least appreciated by those people who lose their minds at the very sight of the Beatles.

As for the animated version of the group, I thought the voice actors did a very good impression of them. It’s just a shame that they all sounded bored out of their skulls throughout the whole film.

You’d have thought the jokes might have coaxed some life out of them. There’s enough of them. A veritable smorgasbord of agonisingly painful wordplay. Particularly excruciating highlights include:

“I can’t help it. I’m a born lever-puller.”

And:

“Are you blueish? You don’t look blueish.”

Oh, and of course the Rimsky-Korsakov/Guy Lombardo joke which took me far too much effort to understand, and when I did, it still wasn’t actually funny.

I could go on, but I shan’t. I'm not a cruel woman.

Lousy jokes aside, this is a movie I’m glad to have seen. I wasn’t sure if I liked it at first, but once I stopped trying to make sense of things and just went along for the ride, my appreciation of the film went right up.

This strange, beautiful film will surely be a hit with all the lonely people. Sure, it’s often melancholy and alienating. But it also offers hope.

In the end, how do the Beatles win? Not with combat prowess, but good old peace, love and rock n’ roll. Even the Blue Meanies benefit from hearing the band’s message. They just needed to abandon their relentless negativity and accept what was freely offered. Thanks to the Beatles, Pepperland is livelier than ever.

To defeat the forces of misery and loneliness… all you need is love.

(Four stars out of five)




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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 26, 1968] A lost pair of hours… (The Lost Continent)

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by Joe Reid

The Lost Continent is a movie that leaves me feeling unrewarded for the investment of my time towards it.  The premise of the movie is interesting, that being that there is a place on Earth that is so dangerous to mankind that no people could survive there.  The thought of seeing brave heroes struggle against the odds and monsters of all types to fight for a noble cause, sounds like it might be a good time.

This is where our expectations disappoint us.  Sure, the monsters looked like papier-mâché floats on tracks, but I'm a cinematic veteran.  I can overlook such minor issues.  No, there are three things that would have changed my opinion on this movie, had they been different, three P’s actually.  They are, People, Placement, and Purpose.  Had just two of those P’s been different, we could have had an endearing movie.  Had just one P been different, I would have considered my time spent justified.


– A group of good looking bad people.

Starting off with the people.  The anchor to any story is character based.  The characters in this story are all awful people.  There is not one good person among them.  The movie starts off showing an event that occurs at the very end, then it begins in earnest with the introduction of all the characters for the movie’s proper beginning.  It’s set on a ship setting off on a voyage on a dark and stormy night.  We met the captain and crew and several of the passengers.  They are smugglers, embezzlers, thieves, bullies, drunkards, and gamblers.  Among this lot I couldn’t find one decent person who might shine as the hero of the story.  Hence, I was left with no one person to root for.  It might have been acceptable if some characters began reprehensible and later had a change of heart, but that was not the tenor of this cast, where most start as bad people, only to later in the story transform into a slightly different ilk of bad.


– Someone please help this man!


– No thanks. We’ll just watch him die

So, if we start off with bad people, what could be worse?  The answer to that is bad people in bad places and the lost continent is a bad place.  As our band of miscreants arrive in the bad place we find that the vegetation and wildlife are very intent on killing humans.  Just note, the "placement" that I referring to isn't just the setting.  What I allude more to is the stationary placement that all of these bad folks adhere to when other are being attacked by monsters and being killed.  Whereas a hero might step and try to fight off monsters, our characters stand back and watch, rooted in place.  They don’t care enough about other bad people to risk life and limb to help them.


– bad place


– more bad people.

Lastly we come to the topic of Purpose.  As our band of malcontents make shore in the bad place they come to learn of the true monsters that exist in the lost continent. When they are revealed, our “heroes” decide to engage in an war with them.  The question is, why?  The purpose that our characters fulfill in the story is never clear.  It is a case of bad people in a bad place doing things for no reason.  Had any of the three listed factors been different, we would have had a different movie.  A more enjoyable movie.  Instead, we are left with a feeling of emptiness as the Lost Continent amounts to a bunch of lost time.

2 stars.




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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 24, 1968] Peter Cushing and the Women (Frankenstein Created Woman and The Blood Beast Terror)

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by Fiona Moore

The Cinderford Palace Cinema is currently holding a Peter Cushing retrospective, celebrating a career that has included roles as diverse as van Helsing, Sherlock Holmes, Winston Smith and an odious Oxford student out to get Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy (no, really). I’m taking the opportunity to review their double bill of Frankenstein Created Woman (Hammer, 1966) and his most recent movie, The Blood Beast Terror (Tigon, 1968).

Frankenstein Created Woman

Hammer Studios’ take on the Frankenstein franchise differs from the American one in that the focus is not on the monster, but on the man who created it. The monster doesn’t survive beyond the first movie, and the subsequent films, including this one, instead follow the career of Doctor Victor Frankenstein (Peter Cushing) as he continues his experiments in reviving the dead while staying one step ahead of the law.

Victor Frankenstein leading his collaborator, Hertz, into corruption.
Victor Frankenstein leading his collaborator, Hertz, into corruption.

In Frankenstein Created Woman, Frankenstein, aided by local doctor Hertz (Thorley Walters) and Hertz’s assistant Hans (Robert Morris), develops a means of capturing the soul at point of death. When Anton (Peter Blythe), a rich bully, murders the town innkeeper and frames Hans for it, Frankenstein exploits the situation by using the executed Hans’ soul to test his new procedure. The innkeeper’s daughter, Christina (Susan Denberg), who is also Hans’ lover, commits suicide, and Frankenstein, naturally enough, decants Hans’ soul into her body. Christina then goes on a murder spree, killing Anton and his friends, before finally killing herself a second time.

The result is a surprisingly nuanced take on marginalisation and prejudice, particularly as regards women. Both Hans and Christina are shunned by the villagers and bullied by Anton’s clique: Hans because his father was executed for murder (a death Hans himself witnessed as a child) and Christina because she has a prominent scar on her face. However, they find comfort and love with each other. Christina is continually underestimated and belittled by everyone around her: when the murders start, even Frankenstein assumes that it is Hans’ soul working through her body, but the film itself is much more ambiguous, making it clear that Christina is at the very least a willing participant, and possibly the one wholly responsible. At the end of the film, when Frankenstein confronts her and tells her that she is not responsible for the murders, saying “let me tell you who you really are,” Christina responds “I know who I really am.” Without intending it, Frankenstein has empowered her, and, although Frankenstein may think he understands her, he, like everyone in the story, has underestimated and misjudged her.

To add insult to injury, Frankenstein fixes Christina's scar when he restores her. Meaning he could have done that at any time, but didn't.
To add insult to injury, Frankenstein fixes Christina's scar when he restores her. Meaning he could have done that at any time, but didn't.

The direction of the movie is also rather clever: the murders are implied rather than shown, and the director, Terence Fisher (known for other Cushing outings like The Curse of Frankenstein [1957] and Dracula [1958]), throws in little bits of foreshadowing like having the guillotine visible in the background just before Hans is framed for the innkeeper’s death. The villains are believably nasty, reminiscent of the violent young men in the novel A Clockwork Orange. Finally, Cushing gives a brilliant performance as Victor Frankenstein that highlights the character’s charismatic evil, unintentionally corrupting everyone with whom he associates.

Four out of five stars.

The Blood Beast Terror

I was particularly interested to see this one as it is the sole film by Tigon British Film Porductions prior to their astounding folk-horror piece Witchfinder General. While it’s ambitious and interesting, The Blood Beast Terror is unfortunately nowhere near Witchfinder General’s league.

The movie’s plot is an attempt to meld no fewer than three horror subgenres: the vampire film, the were-beast film, and, of course, Frankenstein. Cushing plays Quennell, a detective investigating the strange deaths of a series of young men, seemingly mauled by a bird of prey. His investigation leads him to a lepidopterist, Carl Mallinger (Robert Flemyng) with a beautiful daughter, Clare (Wanda Ventham). After a few unconvincing red herrings, it becomes evident that Clare is not Mallinger’s daughter per se, but a monstrous hybrid of a human and a moth, who drinks human blood. She and her creator flee into the countryside, where Mallinger attempts to create a mate for her, but Quennell tracks them down.

This movie's got some notable supporting actors too, for instance Kevin Stoney as an evil manservant.
This movie's got some notable supporting actors too, for instance Kevin Stoney as an evil manservant.

The movie gets points for playing against traditional horror film clichés, though it then loses some for not doing so to a satisfying conclusion. For instance, the movie plays against type by giving us a female vampire who preys on men, and a female Frankenstein’s Monster-figure who desires a mate as much as her male counterpart does.  However, it doesn’t really follow through thematically, failing to explore the implications of reversing the gender roles, and, where the Monster’s pathetic need for a companion humanises him, Clare’s desire for a male of her species is dealt with perfunctorily and unsympathetically. The writer also seems uncomfortable with the lack of a female victim, but, rather than exploring the implications of men as victims—or perhaps considering more subtle ways in which Clare might be seen as a victim of society, as with Christina in Frankenstein Created Woman—instead shoehorns in a daughter for Quennell to provide some end-of-movie rescue action.

The movie has a few other problems. There is an unsubtle amateur drama sequence which draws the parallels between Clare and Frankenstein’s Monster, and which could have been half its length. There are some inconsistencies and inexplicable points, e.g. when a young naturalist turns up dead near Mallinger’s house, he denies ever having known the man, when a simple investigation would have showed that he visited him the previous night. The monster is eventually killed in a way that is so obvious I was surprised they chose that path.

Two and a half out of five stars.

There's also a cameo by music-hall comedian Roy Hudd, which goes about as you'd expect.
There's also a cameo by music-hall comedian Roy Hudd, which goes about as you'd expect.

The two movies are a good match in that they both explore women’s roles in horror and particularly females as independent entities, though Christina is a much more interesting and complicated figure than Clare, and is treated more sympathetically by the writers. Peter Cushing shows the subtlety of his acting ability, in that both Frankenstein and Quennell are severe, obsessive men on a mission, but one is a cold, cruel psychopath while the other genuinely cares for the people under his protection. Overall, I’d recommend Frankenstein Created Woman to people who like a good, thought-provoking psychological horror, but The Blood Beast Terror is mostly of interest to Cushing completists.




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Movies

[June 22, 1968] The Devil, you say (Rosemary's Baby)

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by Amber Dubin

It seems appropriate to mention expectations when discussing a film with such a pregnant subject matter (pun intended). Mine were fairly low to start because I am not a fan of horror movies. This is because the scares from horror films usually suffer two major foibles: the ridiculous and the cliché. Outside of Halloween festivities, I have little patience for silly looking, poorly costumed monsters. I also dislike when a film relies too heavily on violent/grotesque imagery to get a rise out of its audience. It was through this biased lens that I viewed Rosemary's Baby; though I went in expecting disappointment, predictability and lack of inspiration or fear, I was proven wrong on all counts. Rosemary's Baby has a spine chilling relatability that creeped into my psyche and won me over, despite my pessimistic attitude toward it. It has the uniqueness and incontrovertibly high quality writing that give it all the makings of a timeless horror classic.

The slow boil of discomfort begins as we open to an off-putting lullaby, mournfully serenading the viewer as we zoom into a gloomy, dismal, old city skyline. The first couple of scenes increase the viewer's sense of unease by limping along at a clunky and awkward pace into a world that just barely makes sense. The young newlywed couple at the center of the story, Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and Guy Woodhouse (John Cassavetes), are introduced as they enthusiastically acquire an apartment even though it's clearly run down, overstuffed and not move-in ready at all. Their reactions continue to be disjointed from reality in the subsequent scenes as we are introduced to their old and new friends. They proceed to have very awkward and/or inappropriate conversations with each of them, starting with Hutch (the family friend who brings up some very odd subjects over dinner) and ending with a first meeting with their neighbor Terry (who wastes absolutely no time launching into her sordid past of drug abuse with someone she has not even known for a full hour over laundry with Rosemary). The couple proves to have similar lack of social grace around each other, when their first night they spend at their creepy new apartment, they are eating off a blanket on the floor because they have no curtains or furniture and Rosemary awkwardly declares, "Say! Let's make love" completely apropos of nothing. Personally, I think the subsequent silent disrobing and intertwining of bodies to be not only shocking, but (and deliberately) decidedly un-sexy.


Not the models for marital bliss

It comes to pass that all this awkwardness is by design, as it serves to innure the viewer for strangeness that piles on with every scene and every new character introduced. Like the proverbial frog that gets cooked alive in slowly boiling water, both Rosemary and the viewer are slowly made comfortable with painfully uncomfortable circumstances, and we don't realize what's happening until it's too late.

In the first shock of the movie, the couple go on a late night stroll in order to avoid over-hearing what sounds like chanting coming through the paper-thin walls. As they return from their ramble, they are shocked to find a crowd surrounding the bloody corpse of Terry, the overly chatty girl Rosemary met earlier at the laundry. The elderly couple that Terry was living with react normally to her sudden "suicide" at first: expressing shock and grief when they introduce themselves to the Woodhouses as their neighbors, the Casavets. The next day, however, when Mrs. Casavet appears at Rosemary's door, her behavior is anything but normal. The older woman barges into Rosemary's place and goes through it like she owns it, speaking in nonsensical run-on sentences that are off putting and yet Rosemary doesn't react at all. Yet most unnerving is when she casually mentions having Terry cremated and bequeaths Rosemary with Terry's foul-smelling "good luck charm" that must not have been lucky enough because Terry was still wearing it when she died.


Dead women's necklaces make great house-warming gifts

It is with this bizarre house-warming gift that the Casavets begin their campaign to integrate themselves into every waking moment of Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse's lives. Guy is initially reluctant to even meet them, but once he and Mr. Casavet bond over cigars they become fast friends. Bizarrely, Guy becomes so close with the septuagenarian at one point that he begins going over their neighbor's house even without Rosemary with him. It is important to note here that, for me, the most upsetting part about this movie is the way the Woodhouses talk to each other. Like many couples, they at first appear to be hopelessly in love, but as you get to know them throughout the film, their relationship is rotten to its core. Guy proves himself to be a selfish, mean, horrible man. Rosemary, in her desperate attempt to justify her continued adoration of him, consistently makes excuses for his bad behavior. The most egregious example of this dynamic comes when they decide to start trying for a baby (basically so that Rosemary will have something to do when Guy is off auditioning for roles). By apparent coincidence, the first night they are set to start trying, Rosemary's neighbor gives her a homemade dessert that makes her almost collapse afterwards.


If you ever find yourself waking up like this, it's time for a divorce

The following night Rosemary is in a fitful sleep where she dreams of being assaulted by the devil while all of her neighbors stand around her naked and chanting. She wakes up naked and sore with her back scratched up and when questioned, her husband says he 'didn't want to miss the baby-making night.' I had an almost identical level of revulsion as Rosemary when faced with the realization that her husband would take such liberties over her body without her knowledge or consent. It turns out that night marked the conception of a very difficult pregnancy, one which not only sees the steep decline in their marriage, but also Rosemary's sanity and health, while she slowly becomes completely subjugated by the incessant presence of the Casavets in her life. Bounced between her husband and her intrusive neighbor, her self-esteem is whittled down to nothing as she is constantly insulted and isolated from her own family and friends. Her husband refuses to look her in the eye for weeks, and when she gets an adorable haircut to feel more fashionable, the first thing out of his mouth is "You look horrible! This is the worst decision you've made." Ever the non-supportive, selfish man she married, Guy uses her new "hideous" hairstyle to ignore her even more as her pregnancy progresses, throwing himself into his acting career as if nothing else matters.


Despite being thoroughly mod, this look deeply displeased Rosemary's husband

Rosemary's husband and neighbors add insult to injury when they convince her to change the doctor she goes to for regular check ups, and he repeatedly ignores her pleas for help when she has unusual pains, telling her every concern she has is in her head. At one point, she rebels, throwing a huge house party with friends she hasn't seen in years, against the wishes of her oppressors. Her friends are appropriately horrified to see what she looks like, seeing how pale she is and how sunken her eyes. Breaking down into tears, she confesses that she's been in horrible pain since the beginning of her pregnancy and can't believe this level of agony is normal.

Her friends literally lock her husband out of the room and validate all of her fears, telling her how her husband and Doctor are treating her is not at all normal and she needs to get out of there as soon as possible. It appears to already be too late, however, as when the pain lessens the next day, she second-guesses her friends and settles into the routine set by everyone else in her life. The way this party resolves reveals itself to be the first in a trend of stranger and stranger happenings in the background of Rosemary's pregnancy. Little by little, every contradictory voice in her life is silenced, beginning with the party go-ers and ending with Hutch the family friend from the beginning.


A desperate call for help that goes unanswered

Hutch's re-entry into Rosemary's life triggers a headlong fall down a rabbit hole of conspiratorial theories and occult explanations for the increasingly bizarre behavior of Rosemary's doctor, neighbors and husband. Within hours of his visit to Rosemary's house, he vows to do research on her neighbors and then almost immediately falls into a coma he never wakes up from. Speaking from beyond the grave, he wills her a book about witches, filled with secret messages implying that the Casavets belong to a well established coven that's been in the area for ages. Thus ensues a Rosemary's frantic bout of research, which leaves the viewer wondering whether she's actually figuring out what's going on or completely losing her mind.

The moment of truth comes when she finally presents her findings to a new doctor, only for him to turn her over to the custody of her original doctor and her husband, as a raving lunatic. She is instantly proven right in her suspicions, though when she gets home and the entire coven is in her apartment and descends upon her, pinning her to her own bed by sheer force of numbers. Horrifyingly, she is induced into a coma by her mad-scientist doctor, and when she wakes again she is told she birthed and lost the baby. Because she rightfully believes no one around her at this point, she starts deceiving her captors by pretending to take the "medicine" they feed her and feigning ignorance as to why they take her breast milk "to be thrown in the trash." After days of placating them, she arms herself with a huge kitchen knife and follows the crying noises she's been overhearing sporadically through the walls. She finds an entrance to the neighbor's apartment in the back of one of her closets and stumbles into a room full of people gathered for a baby shower that she wasn't invited to.


Mia Farrow out-doing herself

In the performance of a lifetime, Mia Farrow approaches the black curtained bassinet adorned with an upside down cross in the center of the room. Leaning over its side, her eyes absolutely bulge out of their sockets in an expression of pure, abject terror. Recoiling, she screams, "what did you do to its eyes?!" The gathered crowd enthusiastically exclaim that her child has its father's eyes and erupt into a cacophony of "Hail Satan"s. Dazed, Rosemary stumbles around the room, receiving no comfort from the callous scheming coven as they alternatively mock and jeer at her. Her husband even has the nerve to come up to her and tell her why he signed them up to this whole situation, explaining that "it'll just be as if you lost the baby" and "this will be so good for my career." I believe Rosemary speaks for all of us by promptly spitting in the man's face and shutting him up. In the end, she tentatively approaches the bassinet again because one of the other party guests is shaking it too hard and causing the infant within to cry. You can see the heartbreaking mixture of confusion, fear and motherly love play across Rosemary's face as she resigns herself to some level of acceptance of this situation and the same creepy lullaby that began the film croons over us as we fade to black.


A movie for the ages

This film had so many iconic moments and scenes. If this isn't Mia Farrow's break-out role, then I know nothing of quality acting. I expect great things from her in the future. The script, score and plot were also a cut above. I began my viewing thinking it bizarre and ungrounded and within 15 minutes, I was enthralled, on the edge of my seat and just as anxious to find out what fresh Hell Rosemary was going to be subjected to, even as I was disgusted and disturbed by what she had already endured. Rosemary's Baby is a true tribute to the horror genre and made a believer out of this skeptical critic.

5 stars.




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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[May 24, 1968] How Low Can You Go? (Battle Beneath the Earth and The Astro-Zombies)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Notes From Underground

The English have a great hunger for desolate places.
— Alec Guinness as Prince Faisal in Lawrence of Arabia

And I have a great hunger for the desolation of cinematic wastelands.

Need evidence? Consider my interest in things like Teenagers From Outer Space, The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies, Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster, and Women of the Prehistoric Planet.

I rest my case, although I could name many more.

I recently dived deep down into the abyss of Z-grade filmmaking with a pair of inept science fiction films. Grab your flashlight and come spelunking with me into the bottomless cavern of movie malfeasance.

Dig We Must


And it can stay there!

Battle Beneath the Earth

This subterranean smorgasbord of silliness begins with stock footage of the casinos in Las Vegas. Two cops drive by and get a call to investigate a listening disturbance [sic]. That's a situation I don't recall ever appearing on Dragnet.


"Be sure not to help this guy, everybody! Just stand around and stare at him!"

In what is very clearly a set, and not Las Vegas, we see a fellow with his ear to the ground. He's raving about something that sounds like ants underground. Understandably, the cops drag him away as a kook, and he winds up in a mental hospital.

(By the way, the sanitarium has slot machines, for use by compulsive gamblers. At this point, I had to wonder if the film was a deliberate spoof. Unfortunately, I don't think so.)


Then they tell you what movie you're watching, in case you wandered into the theater by accident.

Our hero is a naval officer, recently assigned to lab duty on land after an experimental underwater habitat was destroyed in an earthquake. (Hint: It wasn't a natural disaster.) The sister of the listening guy happens to be his assistant. She tells him that her brother keeps asking to talk to him.


Peter Arne, as Arnold Kramer, in bathrobe, and Kerwin Mathews, as Commander Jonathan Shaw, in uniform. "Before I listen to your crazy story, allow me to remind you that I was the star of The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, which was a much better film."

It turns out that the guy isn't a paranoid nut, but a seismologist who has figured out that (wait for it) a Chinese general and his minions have dug their way under the Pacific Ocean and most of the way across the United States. The plan is to fill the tunnels with atomic bombs and, I don't know, rule the world, I guess. (We find out he's planted similar bombs under Peking, so he's working on his own, like any proper megalomaniac.)


A minion inside a Chinese digging machine. "Peek-a-boo!"

After a few skirmishes underground (excuse me, I mean a battle beneath the Earth), the good guys figure out that the general's supplies are coming from some place in the middle of the Pacific. They use their own digging machine to raid the place.


Carefully labeled, in case some swabby thinks it's a tank or something.

Along for the fun is our Good Girl, a Hawaiian geologist. She doesn't do much, really, except look pretty and fall into the arms of our hero.


"Gee, Miss Yung, you're beautiful without your glasses!" The character has a Chinese last name, but is played by Viviane Ventura, a British/Colombian actress. A small hint of casting problems to come.

The raid is a fiasco, with a bunch of Marines getting killed. Our hero gets captured by the bad guys.


Martin Benson as General Chan Lu. "Before I explain my sinister plan, in the proper manner of any James Bond villain, allow me to remind you that I had a small role in Goldfinger, which was a much better film."

At this point, our movie's Bad Girl enters. She hypnotizes our hero, using what is very obviously one of those little battery-operated handheld fans you use to cool yourself off on a hot day. She recites this bit of doggerel over and over, in order to wash the hero's brain thoroughly.

Red is green
Green is red
The East is sunrise
The West is dead

I don't think Robert Frost has any competition to worry about.


"I will control your mind through the power of a refreshing breeze!"

I should note that this character (Dr. Arnn) is played by Paula Li Shiu, a Chinese actress. All the other Chinese characters (except a few minor nonspeaking roles) are played by Occidentals. This kind of casting is embarrassing, but if Christopher Lee can play Fu Manchu, I guess anything goes.


The general in the tube gizmo he uses to descend to the underground tunnels. "The next wise guy who says 'Beam me up, Scotty' is going to get it!"

The bad guy has all kinds of supposedly Chinese stuff decorating his underground headquarters, just in case you forget what nationality he's supposed to be. He also has a pet hawk, just to show you how evil he is.


"The next wise guy who says 'This movie is for the birds' is going to get it!"

Will the good guys win? Oh, come on, you know the answer to that already.


Nothing like an atomic bomb for a happy ending.

Quality of film: Two stars.
Level of derisive amusement: Four stars.

All the Way Down to the Bottom


What happened to the word "The" and the hyphen between "Astro" and "Zombies"?

The Astro-Zombies

This cheapskate epic begins with a woman driving down the road. Get used to this kind of thing, because we'll have plenty of scenes that go on and on where people do ordinary things. Eventually, she winds up in her garage, where she's killed by a guy in a skull mask.


This, ladies and gentlemen, is an astro-zombie.

We then get our opening titles, oddly filmed over scenes of toy robots.


Nothing says quality like dime store special effects.

Cut to some science types and some government types talking in an office. Long and confusing story short, it seems there was a project to transmit thoughts from folks on Earth to brains in artificial bodies in spacecraft.


Government guy, played by Wendell Corey, looks concerned. He had a similar role in Agent For H.A.R.M.

It seems that one of the scientists working on the project got kicked out, and is now on his own. He's played by John Carradine, of course.


"You want me to play another Mad Scientist? How much does it pay?"

Naturally, Carradine has a hunchback for an assistant. Believe it or not, his name is Franchot.


"My parents could have named me 'Fritz' or 'Ygor,' but no . . ."

Franchot grabs a dead guy out of a car wreck and drags him back to the lab. If I've managed to follow the plot correctly, he wants to put a brain into his body and create another astro-zombie. Apparently, the previous one had a murder's brain and went on a killing rampage.


There's also a woman in a bikini strapped down on a table in the lab. She has nothing to do with the plot.

Meanwhile, foreign spies are after Carradine's secret. A lot of the running time is spent with the good guy spies and the bad guy spies fighting each other. The leader of the bad guys is played by the amazing Tura Satana, so memorable in Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!


Tura and one of her minions.

I have to say something about Tura's appearance here. She wears tons of makeup, including gigantic false eyelashes. Her fingernails look like daggers. There's a special credit for her costume designer, who really did an interesting job.


Tura in pink. Is she auditioning for Star Trek?

No opportunity is lost to put her remarkable body on display.


A little something for the leg men in the audience.

Anyway, let me get back to the plot. We've got a couple of heroes, of a sort, as well as a heroine/potential victim.


Here they are, in a time-killing scene at a nightclub in which they watch a topless dancer covered in body paint. Is it really cricket for a guy to take a woman out to see a stripper?

They come up with a plan to have the heroine act as bait for the astro-zombie who's slaughtering women left and right.


"Uh, guys? I don't think that's such a good idea. And which one of you is supposed to be my boyfriend, anyway?"

Stuff happens. The funniest scene is when the astro-zombie runs out of energy, and has to hold a flashlight to his head in order to charge his photoelectric cells.


"Thanks, Eveready!"

Boy, this is a dreary little movie. Only the presence of Tura Satana makes it watchable.


One more cheesecake shot for the road.

Quality of film: One star.
Level of derisive amusement: Five stars.




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Movies

[May 22, 1968] Finding a New Way: Witchfinder General

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by Fiona Moore

Witchfinder General is a real game-changer not just for British horror but for horror films in general. This is a movie without monsters, ghosts, psychopathic killers or, even, witches (at least real ones). The terror comes from people’s belief in witches, and what that belief makes them do to other people, and, in making that change, this film is an artistic statement that transcends genre.

The story is set, as a clunky (and rather unnecessary, since the same information is conveyed in the first few scenes) voiceover at the start tells us, in 1645, the height of the English Civil War. It is ostensibly based on the life of a genuine historical figure of the time, Matthew Hopkins, the so-called “Witchfinder General”. He is a minor landowner who made his career travelling around Southeastern England identifying witches using bogus techniques and confessions extracted under duress. In fact, the story bears almost no resemblance at all to the known facts of Hopkins’ life, barring his name, that of his assistant Stearne (in real life their roles were reversed), the location (East Anglia) and the methods used to extract confessions from witches. This is a minor complaint, however—and might not even be a complaint, as the story the movie tells is possibly more disturbing than Hopkins’ actual biography.

Vincent Price and Robert Russell as Hopkins and Stearne

The film’s main positive figure, at least at the outset, is Richard Marshall, a young Roundhead soldier engaged to Sarah Lowes, the niece of a small-town Church of England priest. Sarah’s uncle is accused of witchcraft by his neighbours (we never learn the specific reason for this, which chillingly suggests that it’s a fairly banal local conflict that escalates to horrific extremes) and Hopkins and Stearne arrive, arrest and torture the accused. Sarah, desperate to save her uncle, sleeps with Hopkins; when Stearne, envious and sadistic, rapes her, Hopkins discards his promises to Sarah and has her uncle executed. Richard, hearing of the tragedy but arriving too late to stop it, marries Sarah and swears vengeance on Hopkins. Matters escalate, leading eventually to a bloody confrontation which clearly brings home that violence only begets more violence, and that no one in this story is going to escape without severe damage.

Ian Ogilvy (right) as Richard Marshall

The civil war backdrop is sketched in matter-of-factly. Perhaps surprisingly, given that subsequent British popular culture tends to dislike the Parliamentarians (in Sellars and Yeatman’s phrase, the Cavaliers were Wrong but Wromantic, and the Roundheads Right but Repulsive), the film resists the temptation to lay the blame for the witch hysteria at Cromwell’s door. Richard and his men are more or less positively portrayed, as is Cromwell himself when he turns up for a brief cameo after a successful military campaign. Some of the film’s power arguably lies in the fact that they, and Hopkins, are all ostensibly on the same side, and, while we see very little of the atrocities of the war itself, it is clearly part of what is fueling the communities’ drive to turn on their own. The viewer is also left to fill in some details themselves: for instance, the absence of a lord of the manor in the village where Sarah and her uncle live suggests he was a Royalist, possibly also hinting at why relationships have broken down between the villagers and why Sarah’s uncle is now accused of heresy.

Hilary Dwyer as Sarah Lowe

In casting terms, Vincent Price is credibly chilling as Hopkins, largely because of the way he underplays his role: he talks about torture and murder in the same banal tones as one might discuss a land boundary dispute, and he pretends hypocritically to be serving the public interest. Robert Russell as Sterne is a much more familiar figure from horror films, loathsome and sadistic, but provides a necessary contrast to Price, acting as a kind of expression of Hopkins’ id. Newcomers Ian Ogilvy and Hilary Dwyer, as Richard and Sarah, are very pretty to look at, but they also have the acting chops to handle their characters’ descent as they are subjected to increasing torment and degradation.

Sarah in a beautiful landscape

Michael Reeves’ direction works well, contrasting the beautiful scenery of Southeast England with the awful behaviour of its inhabitants. His best, albeit hardest to watch, efforts come in the film’s climactic scene. In it, Hopkins escalates his method of execution from simply hanging witches to burning them—not at the stake, but strapped to a ladder slowly lowered into the fire. As this takes place, the camera turns its pitiless gaze around the crowd, showing a variety of different reactions: from religious rapture, to horror, to fear, to pleasure. Most horrifyingly, it also shows children absorbing the violence around them. We later see the same children roasting baked potatoes in the execution fire, a detail that is terrifying in its matter-of-fact presentation.

Child spectators at an execution

The story’s contemporary relevance is also clear. Sexism visibly fuels the witch-hunting activities, and prejudice against women and fear of their sexuality in the wider culture allows the likes of Hopkins and Stearne to flourish. Desensitisation to war, as we are seeing in America and elsewhere, allows people to condone and commit acts of violence in their own communities. Revelations after the collapse of the Nazi regime, and reports from behind the Iron Curtain, show clearly how petty grievances between neighbours can, under totalitarian rule, lead to arrests and torture. The viewer can’t leave the cinema thinking it could never happen here: clearly it not only can–it has.

The witch-burning scene

The film makes the most of its economical 86 minutes, and is definitely not for the faint-hearted. By mining British folk culture and history, and by focusing on human evil itself rather than monsters and spirits, Reeves has opened up the possibilities of a whole new kind of horror movie and paved the ground for a new, artistic subgenre; I can’t wait to see what this new pioneer of British cinema will come up with next. Five out of five stars.




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Movies

[May 16, 1968] Counting down, and a blast from the Past (Countdown (1967) and The Time Travelers (1964))

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by Janice L. Newman

When we learned that last year’s Countdown was playing in San Diego theaters, The Traveler and I decided to make a night of it and drive down to watch it. The Traveler is a space buff, of course, so it was a natural fit. Would I recommend it? Well, it depends.

The story is simple and straightforward, with few surprises. When the Russians send up a civilian astronaut to circumnavigate the moon, with three more astronauts presumably soon to follow and actually land, NASA implements an emergency plan to get a man on the moon at any cost. He’ll be stuck there for a year, provided he can find and enter a previously-sent shelter pod before his oxygen runs out. Public relations concerns force NASA to tap the less-qualified civilian Lee for the role rather than their first choice, Colonel Chiz. After many conversations, discussions, arguments, and training sequences, Lee is sent to the moon to land a few days after the Russians. What happens next is, shall we say, narratively predictable, but I'll let you watch the movie to see for yourself.


Lee and Chiz in the modified Gemini that will go to the moon–it's clear NASA helped Warner Bros. make this film.

The movie feels grounded in realism in a way that few modern space movies do. This is a story of the ‘here and now’, with current technology, fashion, and language. It’s a bold choice, and a risky one. With technology changing so quickly, it seems likely that the movie will soon feel dated and possibly even silly. Within a couple of years, it’s highly likely that either the Russians or the Americans will succeed in landing on the moon, and what then? The story will simply be a ‘could have been’, perhaps interesting in its time, but quickly forgotten as it is eclipsed by true events. Unless the movie ends up being prescient. Who knows?

While the story and visuals are deeply entrenched in the ‘now’, however, certain aspects of the movie feel groundbreaking: specifically, the way sound is handled, both the conversations between characters and the music. I’ve never seen a movie or play where characters talk over each other so much. It’s confusing and sometimes frustrating, trying to follow the thread of a conversation as other characters are shouting. It feels more like ‘real life’ in some ways; after all, real conversations are often filled with interruptions, stops and starts which almost never show up on screen or stage. The technique was used a bit too much, perhaps, as sometimes I thought that it continued to an unrealistic degree. The actors seemed a bit uncomfortable with it as well, a few times starting or stopping in an artificial way. I imagine after training in one kind of acting, to do something so different must have been disconcerting. This is not to say that the actors did a poor job. Duvall in particular impressed me, turning in a powerful performance as the bitter passed-over Colonel Chiz.


Everyone talking at once–Altman's invention.

The real star of the movie, though, was the music. Atonal and dissonant music is not new. Arnold Schoenberg, for example, spent the first half of the century writing music that sounds strange to Classically-trained ears. What is new, at least to me, is the use of dissonance in a mainstream movie soundtrack, and not just for a moment or two, but for most of the movie. The soundtrack eschews the Romantic-style orchestral music which is standard in most films, and instead uses eerie, unsettling themes that swell and fade with high-pitched notes and low groans, punctuated by the occasional pounding of timpani. Still orchestral, but not sweet. Not predictable in its progressions, but rather filled with deliberately clashing chords. It’s not quite to the level of atonality that Schoenburg ended up writing, but it’s unusual and fresh, and it does an amazing job of building tension even absent of every other factor. In some ways, the soundtrack might have been more suited to a horror movie! Is this the beginning of a new trend in movie music? I understand that Planet of the Apes, which came out after this film, uses similar dissonant themes. On the other hand, I understand that 2001 features The Blue Danube and Also Sprach Zarathustra, which are both undeniably fine pieces of music, but hardly ‘modern’. So I guess we’ll see!


It's the music that really sells the scene as Lee struggles with the lunar simulator.

So do I recommend the movie? For space buffs, yes, absolutely. The grounding in modern technology and the efforts at realism will be appreciated by people who know what they’re looking at (even if, as The Traveler pointed out to me, they used footage of the wrong rockets). For everyone else? The plot is paint-by-numbers. The fate of the Russian astronauts didn’t come as a surprise. Nor did Lee’s. The conflicts of the movie—with Chiz, between Lee and his wife, between the surgeon and the head of the project—are all more or less resolved by the end. Everything is tied up neatly, and that’s that.

But even if space isn't your bag, if you love music, especially modern and unusual music, this film may well be worth the price of entry!

Three stars.


by Gideon Marcus

What an interesting beast Countdown is.  Like the novel, Marooned, it is very much of its time.  As Janice notes, it's instantly dated.  But the test of the plot isn't whether or not it could happen now, but whether or not it was plausible at a certain time.

There is clearly a point of divergence from our universe in this movie.  In the chronology of Countdown, a back-up "Gemini to the moon" plan was prepared.  The Soviets had more luck with their program, and, indeed, a completely different program (no mention is made of Soyuz in the film; it must have been written before April 1967.) With those facts as a given, the events of the movie make sense, and indeed, make a fascinating counterfactual.


The Soviet craft is exclusively referred to as a "Voskhod" (with varying degrees of mangling in the mouths of American actors)

The basic thrust of the movie is still relevant, even if the facts are dated.  As we speak, Apollo 8 is being planned for a circumlunar flight toward the end of the year.  We know the Soviets have been planning for such an endeavor, too, linking up their Soyuz craft in orbit in preparation.  That flight around the moon wasn't in the cards until we were worried the Communists might beat us to the punch.  What corners are we cutting to make it possible?


This is the movie's mission, but it's also Apoll 8's trajectory.

There's a lot to like about this movie.  The acting is excellent.  I recognize Robert Duvall from his endless TV roles (including "The Inheritors" and "The Chameleon" episodes of The Outer Limits and "Miniature", an episode of The Twilight Zone), and James Caan from the episode of Hitchcock, penned by Harlan Ellison, with Walter Koenig.  The direction is innovative, naturalistic and tight.  Newcomer Robert Altman does a lot with a little: this is clearly a low budget film, using flagrantly inaccurate stock-footage rockets (Atlas Agena for the first Pilgrim flight; a Titan II for the second) instead of a Saturn.  I'm kind of surprised they didn't use Saturn 1 footage, honestly.


Ted Knight as a Shorty Powers type describes the mission.  Note the Saturn V in the drawings.


But this is what we actually see–a Titan-Gemini launch.

There are two main motifs that run through this film.  The first is difficulties in communication.  Altman has his actors constantly talking over each other, often failing to listen to each other.  This manifests itself technically when Stegler's radio gives out, punctuating conversation with frequent drop-outs.


Reacting to a failure to communicate.

The second is, of course, countdowns.  Robert Duvall recites the numbers from ten to zero a dozen times in the film.  Altman knows there is suspense in that little trick, and despite its frequent use, it isn't really overdone.


Duvall counting down.

If there's a problem with the film, it's that, despite all the flurry and tension and concerns, there are really no decisions to be made.  Like a spaceflight mission, the movie completes its pre-planned trajectory with little input from the characters along for the ride.

So I think I give it 3.5 stars.  The execution deserves five; as a narrative, it's barely a two.  On the other hand, let's be honest–were these events to play out in real life, with astronauts in peril on the way to the moon, we'd be absolutely riveted.  Of course, in that case, we wouldn't necessarily know everything was going to be all right in the end…

But there's more!  Enjoy this bonus review of a…lesser Sci-fi movie.


by Gideon Marcus


There was no "Love Machine" in the movie I saw. I have no idea what it's talking about.

I shoulda run when I saw the "American International Pictures" logo.

Alright, it's true that AIP doesn't always make shlock, but this time, they indubitably did.  1964's The Time Travelers, directed (sort of) by Ib Melchior and also co-written by him is an hour and a half you'll never get back.

But is that really so bad?

We open up on a "lab" where an "experiment" in time travel is taking place.  Three scientists and a dopey electrician occupy the far left side of the room.  A screen, positioned clearly for our benefit rather than the scientists', occupies the middle of the room, showing where the time window is currently focused.

When the screen refuses to show the future, Steve, the headstrong beefcakey one, decides to push the circuits to their maximum.  The result is as expected: things spark and catch fire.  But serendipitously, the screen becomes more than a window–it's now a portal!  The dopey electrician goes through to investigate, the bohunk and the goateed elder scientist (made of wood or some other unmoving substance) go after him.  When weird humanoid mutants show up and menace Carol, the remaining scientist, she clobbers them with fire extinguisher exhaust.  Then the portal starts to collapse.  She goes through to warn bohunk and goatee…but it's too late.  They're all trapped. 

107 years in the future!

Thus ensues a chase that pretty much sets the tone for the rest of the film, because it goes on for what feels like a good five minutes.  Here's where I realized that there was no budget for retakes or second unit work.  What they shot, they had, and if they were going to fill a movie's run-time, they were going to use every last bit of it.

What's really funny is the four of them hold off about a dozen mutants, armed with spears, by throwing rocks at them.  For some reason, the mutants never think to throw their spears… or rocks.

Anyway, they stumble upon a cave complex guarded by an electric gate.  An attractive older woman in form-fitting trousers (there's a lot of form-fitting trousers in this flick) greets them, accompanied by a bunch of creepy, but not ineffective androids, and brings them to their council chamber.  Turns out that only most of humanity died in an atomic calamity (depicted in stock footage narrated by the council leader, none other than John Hoyt, who is in everything, including the original Star Trek pilot).

But though the mutants increase their attacks every day, there is hope.  The future humans have discovered an inhabitable world around Alpha Centauri (which Alpha Centauri, they don't say…) and have built a starship to get there called… "Starship".  I'm amazed there are no British actors in the cast because that's a British name if I ever heard one.


John Hoyt and… Starship.


1964's finest.

It's all very When Worlds Collide, up to and including the extreme caucasianicity.

At first, the four time travelers are offered a berth on Starship.  This is great because dopey electrician (you can see the impact he had on me–I don't remember his name) has fallen in love with the assertive beauty in form-fitting trousers, Reena (none other than Miss Delores Wells, Playmate of the Month for June 1960; don't ask me how I know this).


Ahem. Form-fitting trousers.

I do like that about this film–men and women seem to share power pretty equally in this future.  Except when it comes to fighting.  Then it's all up to the menfolk and androids.

Anyway, Councilman Willard, a real jerk, insists that Starship can't accommodate any more people, so the time travelers have but one option–build a time portal back to the past.


"I don't wanna take 'em with us!

It's finished at the same time Starship is ready, and also when the mutants make their final attack.  Starship launches but then explodes, killing all on board.  The mutants fight their way to the time portal room, slaughtering many men in form-fitting trousers as well as androids.  We get to see one android catch fire and burn.  For about a full minute.  Because, after all, they shot it, so it's gonna get shown.


"So much for being a real boy…"

The portal is finished in time, the time travelers jump through, along with Reena, John Hoyt, and a few other trouser people, and they find themselves back in the lab at the moment of their fateful experiment.  But they find that time has frozen for them.  Their only hope is to jump through the screen, currently focused on the far future.  They emerge onto a landscape reminiscent of the end of When Worlds Collide…hmmm.

Then, because run-time was short, they recapped the entire movie at an accelerated (or speeded up) rate, I guess to indicate a time loop.  In fact, they do it twice before rolling credits.

Things that are bad:

  • The acting: even John Hoyt is bad.
  • The cinematography: "Hey, I set up the camera–you want I should move it?"
  • The pacing.
  • The science (Lord, the science).

Things that are good:

  • The score: sure, it doesn't always fit the action, but there is a groovy number that clearly influenced the theme of a certain show we all know and love…
  • The scene with the half-mutant refugee that Carol saves from Willard–but nothing more is done with this wasted opportunity.


    You can't see that his hands are deformed claws of flesh–I wanted to see more of this kid.

  • Delores Wells: look, I make it a point not to be a lech, but… vavavoom.
  • The magic tricks: several times, they lift stunts straight from Harry Blackstone's repertoire–they take off an android's head and put it back on; dopey electrician is "teleported" from a magic box.  It's like Vegas, but on film!
  • Superfan Forrest Ackerman has a cameo.


    Hey 4-E!

Two stars.  Don't fail to miss, even if it's tonight's Late Late Movie…unless you want a laugh and/or an eyeful of form-fitting trousers.




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Movies

[May 14, 1968] Bad Girls On Bikes (The Hellcats, The Mini-Skirt Mob, and She-Devils On Wheels)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Three For The Road

I've previously confessed my inexplicable enjoyment of beach movies. A similar vice to which I am addicted is my passion for films about motorcycle gangs.

This particular kind of cheap drive-in feature has exploded ever since the success of The Wild Angels last year.

There are already a bunch of these movies out there, all featuring guys on big bikes riding around, drinking beer, making out with chicks, getting into fights, and generally raising Cain.

But what if they weren't guys?

Three films I saw recently raised my hopes that I'd see the distaff side of things for a change. Not all of them met my expectations. Let's take a look.

The Hellcats

The poster for this low budget cycle flick certainly emphasizes the women in the cast. The trailer does the same thing, putting the names of five of the female characters right up there on the screen for all to see. But is that really what we get?

The movie starts with the funeral of one of the gang. The plot is both simple and difficult to follow, but let me do my best to explain it.

The dead member of the Hellcats was working with the cops. It seems that the cyclists are helping some gangsters push drugs, and he was informing on the crooks. The gangsters killed him, I guess. This isn't the most coherent movie in the world.

Anyway, they also kill one of the cops. The dead man's brother and girlfriend are our protagonists. They manage to join the Hellcats. Eventually, after a lot of random stuff happens, the Hellcats blame the gangsters for the death of one of their members and a big fight breaks out.

So where are all the tough biker chicks we're expecting? Well, they're around, but they don't do very much. Even the one-eyed blonde shown on the poster is a minor character. (You can see what she really looks like in the scene shown above. Not as scary as the poster.)

Not a good movie. Read a book instead.


Maybe not this one.

Quality of film: Two stars.
Bad Girl content: One star.

The Mini-Skirt Mob

The trailer for this somewhat more professionally made film makes it clear who the villainess is, and even features a knockdown, drag-out fight between the Bad Girl and the Good Girl. More false promises?

During the opening credits, I thought I had walked into the wrong theater and was watching a Western. Horses in a motorcycle movie? Well, it turns out the hero is a champion rodeo rider, although that has nothing to do with the story.

The cowboy has just married our Good Girl, played by Sherry Jackson. Hey, she was on Star Trek!

This makes our Bad Girl, played by Diane McBain, very mad. It seems she had a relationship with the cowboy some time ago, and doesn't want to let him go. Together with a few male sidekicks, she and the other members of a female gang called the Mini-Skirts give the newlyweds a hard time.

(Truth in advertising. The gang members really do wear miniskirts, as impractical as that may be on motorcycles. I'd hardly call them a mob, however, as there are only four of them. One of them, the leader's little sister, turns out to be not so bad after all.)

It all leads up to an out-and-out war, with rifles and Molotov cocktails as the weapons. People get killed. There's one death scene that's pretty darn gruesome.

The movie manages to create some suspense, and there are a lot of visually impressive scenes of the desert, courtesy of the state of Arizona.

Quality of film: Three stars.
Bad Girl content: Three stars.

She-Devils on Wheels

The trailer for this Florida-filmed epic reveals two things. It's got a bunch of Bad Girls, and it's really, really cheap.

The opening credits feature a painting of a screaming woman on a cycle. I hope you like it, because it shows up a lot. Between scenes, the same thing appears, spinning around like a record.

The Man-Eaters motorcycle club (their symbol is more cute than scary) have races to determine who has first pick from a bunch of men who are, apparently, just waiting around to be chosen as intimate companions for the night. When one member chooses the same guy too often, the others accuse her of being in love, which is against the rules. She has to drag the fellow behind her bike, leaving him a bloody mess, to prove her loyalty to the gang.

(There's a lot of fake blood in this thing. Director Herschell Gordon Lewis also gave the world extremely gory films such as Blood Feast, Two Thousand Maniacs!,Color Me Blood Red, and A Taste of Blood.)

The two most interesting Man-Eaters are Queenie, the leader, and Whitey. The latter is — how should I put it? — zaftig? Rubenesque? Anyway, she's not your typical Hollywood starlet trying to look tough.

There's also Honeypot, a new member. She gets the plot going.

After the Man-Eaters have a fight with a male gang, defeating the boys easily, the guys get their revenge by kidnapping Honeypot and returning her a bloody mess. (Do you sense a pattern here?) The Man-Eaters set a trap for the leader of the men, leading to our big shock scene (which you may have spotted in the trailer.)

Make no mistake. This is a terrible movie. The acting is atrocious. (I understand that women who could ride motorcycles were hired, rather than women who could act.) But it delivers the goods. These are very Bad Girls indeed.

Quality of film: One star.
Bad Girl content: Five stars.

Overall, not very good movies. Sometimes you just have to go back to the classics.




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