ARCHIVES Jan./Feb. 2008
February 25, 2008
PERRY MASON, Classic Television and the Formula That Works!
The PERRY MASON CBS television series, the one that debuted in 1957, still holds up as classic 1950s adult drama. Based upon the series of novels written by Erle Stanley Gardner, the TV series featured riveting drama in a world populated by both upcoming Hollywood stars and former Hollywood greats. The stories were thoughtfully composed, overfilled with mystery and suspense. However, for such a cutting-edge drama, PERRY MASON followed a tried and true formula, but instead of being saddled creatively by such a formula, the show prospered because of it.
Just think. Did D.A. Hamilton Burger (William Talman) ever win a case he tried against Perry Mason? Did Perry Mason (Raymond Burr) ever lose a case (well, I believe he did lose one case, but that was a very special aberration)? Well, if the villainous D.A. never wins and Perry Mason never looses, why should anyone care to catch a series that survived from 1957 to 1966, if the outcome of every week's trial was a forgone conclusion??? Basically, the question was never about Mason winning the case but how he was going to clear his client when the case, as presented by police detective Sgt. Tragg (Ray Collins) and Burger, seemed to be so air tight. Every episode also presented the possibility that the defendant might not be innocent and may be guilty of holding back evidence or even lying. Mason was a lawyer quick to believe his clients, and even when he asked them point blank if they killed the person they were charged with killing, often those innocent eyes and the answer "no" just were not believable, but Perry Mason never doubted a client once he agreed to take on their case.
And what about dapper private investigator Paul Drake (William Hopper), the convertible-driving investigator who always seemed to be more interested in pursuing the ladies than staying focused on the job. In one episode he gets to show his true colors. While on a date, he is asked to phone Mason after dark. Pulling over to use a pay phone, Drake phones Mason, receives instructions to meet him within the half hour, and reluctantly tells his gorgeous date he has to drive her room, that duty calls. Drake, whether it pertains to rushing into the courtroom at the final hour to hand Mason a slip of paper or jotting down a note, often times his investigative prowess saves the case for Perry. When he is not rushing around, Drake's chief purpose is to order and deliver lunch, usually a brown bag of sandwiches that he never has enough time to consume.
And what about Mason's relationship with his personal and private secretary Della Street (Barbara Hale), the woman who always flashes a sexy all-knowing smile his way? During off duty hours, it is Mason who takes Street to a nice restaurant for an expensive dinner, even if work is involved peripherally. Mason is never shown with any other woman, and theirs is a relationship that seems just as personal as professional. But in the office, Street is ready to transcribe every conversation at every meeting, ready to whip out a receipt for every retainer paid Mason and ready to work alone with Mason after-hours long into the night. It seems neither has any social life outside of work. Part of the charm of the series is trying to figure out what exactly is their relationship.
And what about the team of Tragg and Burger? This inseparable cop (with or without D.A. Burger) arrives on the scene of the crime exactly when Mason arrives. Tragg always wears a sheepish grin to signify that the police are always one step ahead, but every week Mason demonstrates that they are actually two steps behind. And poor Hamilton Burger, the Richard Nixon-faced D.A., always feels he has the case under control until Mason pulls the rug out from under him during the show's climax. Sometimes Burger is snug and arrogant, but other times his banter and body language in court demonstrates that he in fact respects Mason and that their rivalry is based more on respect than competition. In one superb verbal volley, Hamilton Burger throws out a line from Macbeth calling Mason an idiot, but Mason, without losing a beat, fires an equally insightful Shakespearean quote back his way. Burger is first and foremost interested in getting the truth revealed, and if he happens to be wrong and Mason happens to be right, in the nature of justice, then so be it.
And even the plot is based upon the same formula. Each week the episode begins at the home or office of mostly affluent families and introduces us to characters interacting in the vilest manner, thus revealing both the story's conflict and whom the victim will be (in most episodes we know who will die within the first five minutes). Of course about three different people are revealed to have motives for the death of the despicable victim-to-be, and when the corpse is ultimately found, some innocent party is caught with a weapon standing over the corpse, or someone is found in some compromising situation. Of course Perry Mason is contacted, if not by the accused then by a friend or family member. And somehow Mason instinctively knows that his client is innocent (when Tragg and Burger think just the opposite) and Street and Drake are on the case to clear the client. The final third of the episode occurs in court and focuses upon the trial (mostly involving Mason vs. Burger, but some of the stories involve Mason at trial in a smaller community court with the local attorneys gunning to defeat the big city lawyer). But by the final minutes, the murderer is revealed and Mason's client is shown to be innocent. Even Hamilton Burger frequently smiles, even though he lost another case to his worthy adversary.
The formula is repeated and repeated, but somehow it entertains and proves effective. In these television scripts, characters are drawn with subtlety (even the bad folks often win our sympathies) and the plots are tricky enough to keep us guessing until the final minutes. Perry Mason, always professional, has a warmth and caring attitude that makes audiences like him (even though Raymond Burr worked most of his Hollywood career playing villains and criminal types).
When it comes to adult drama that stands the test of time, TV's PERRY MASON is a landmark series whose recent release on DVD only attests to the quality and legendary status of this early courtroom drama. Many other shows produced during the 1950s seem creaky, silly and unbelievable, when viewed today. Even working with the same old formula week in and week out, PERRY MASON becomes a program that transcends that formula and becomes one of the finest dramas that TV ever presented. PERRY MASON is simply riveting television! And the show contains one of the most dramatic and identifiable musical themes in TV history! On DVD season one and two are released (with a 50 th anniversary special edition forthcoming), and we hope to see many more seasons of PERRY MASON to come!
February 12, 2008
The Colorization of RAY HARRYHAUSEN Classics
Ray Harryhausen movies have populated the world of DVD since the format first become popular. Pristine DVD versions of 20 MILLION MILES TO EARTH and EARTH VS. THE FLYING SAUCERS came to the home video market a few years ago. So why are brand new versions of these classics being released anew to DVD (and 20 MILLION MILES TO EARTH is even being released in a Blu-ray HD version, as well as the stand DVD version)?
First and foremost, the new versions are two disc affairs containing lots of supplemental extras, and the front covers boldly proclaim "Ray Harryhausen Presents." But the marketing proclaims that these black and white classics are now available in color versions (along with the original black and white versions). On one hand Harryhausen is trying to interest an entire new generation of moviegoers in his bargain basement monster epics of the past, and these colorized versions do indeed open doors.
As a high school English teacher, I am constantly bombarded when showing movie clips to my classes... "It's not in black and white, is it???!!!" Many of today's youth abhor a movie presented in glorious black and white. Somehow all the shades of black translate as outdated and worthless. When movies are colorized, many youthful viewers will consider watching what beforehand they would never consider watching. Of course this does not mean they will enjoy the movies, but at least one door has been opened.
As the documentary on colorization demonstrates, Harryhausen was involved in every artistic decision concerning the colorization process, sitting at the computer and making suggestions about shades of colors. As others have stated before him, he wished all his black and white movies could have been filmed in color, but the production budgets simply never allowed this. So this process of colorization is one that Harryhausen wished for and approved (even though his beloved KING KONG was photographed in black and white). And the colorization process today, as rendered by Legend Films, is miles above the earliest versions of the colorization process. Simply stated, converting black and white movies to color has reached its artistic zenith.
Of course I tend to prefer the original black and white versions, featuring the inspired cinematography of artists who painted with the monochrome pallet. But part of me is curious in seeing how FRANKENSTEIN and BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN might look in color, or perhaps even THE INVISIBLE RAY and ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN. The best of both worlds would be to have one release that contains both a restored, pristine black and white version and a colorized one, alongside. Thankfully, this is the pattern that Harryhausen and Sony have followed.
For me, the idea of colorization works best in B productions where the cinematography was journeyman quality and not artistically rendered. On the other hand, horror classics in color interest me; however, film noir in color would be sinful and utterly worthless. So the idea of Ray Harryhausen monster movies in color appeals to me!
But how do these movies look colorized? Interestingly, all the Harryhausen releases allow the viewer to toggle between the original black and white versions and the colorized one, with the push of a remote control button. And let me say, the verdict is still out about colorization. For instance, when it comes to 20 MILLION MILES TO EARTH, a strong case can be made for the colorized version. I hate to admit it, when I toggled back and forth, I wound up watching the colorized version all the way through. For instance, in the sequence where the Ymir battles the elephant, in the original black and white version, the texture of the skin seems too similar between both creatures. Both large animals fail to stand out as being unique. However, in the colorized version the color tones of the Ymir stand apart from the elephant and, during the battle, each creature exerts more of an air of individuality and the battle seems more thrilling. When the Ymir hatches from its egg, the mystification of birth seems more fantastic when viewed in color. The Ymir in color seems to have more nuance to its skin texture and seems more lifelike. Those early boat and water sequences in Italy seem richer. And those shadowy sequences of the Ymir hiding in the barn take on a spookier resonance, when rendered in color tones. For me the colorization process makes an already fine movie even better.
But wait a minute! What worked so beautifully in one movie does not work as well in another. Take EARTH VS. THE FLYING SAUCERS. For me the colorization process seems almost black and white in too many sequences, where only a hint of color splash exists. Too many of the daytime sequences seem rather bland when rendered in color. Granted, the flying saucers crashing into national monuments during the film's climax are nice, but the colorization does not add significantly to the film's effects or sense of drama. Some explosions and fire in color become slightly more dramatic, but most of the color sequences seem washed out and unnecessary. For me it is difficult to believe that the same people were involved in the colorization process of both movies. I have yet to view IT CAME FROM BENEATH THE SEA, a film mediocre whether viewed in black and white or color, and one I do not intend to purchase twice.
So, the colorization process becomes little more than a gimmick to lure fans that already own a DVD copy of these Harryhausen movies into buying another version. While the colorization process is a curiosity and an itch that needs scratching, the verdict is still out on whether the colorized versions of B productions are superior to the black and white versions. I have to admit that I love the colorized version of 20 MILLION MILES TO EARTH and feel it enhances the viewing experience. However, the same cannot be said for the colorized version of EARTH VS. THE FLYING SAUCERS. So at this point it remains a hit and miss affair. Some movies simply translate better into color from black and white, and the artistic decisions how to colorize a film and the time involved in getting it right can be the difference between success and failure.
Whether Ray Harryhausen is concocting a new method to make more money or is legitimately concerned with preserving his movies for the next generation, the simple fact remains that, low budget or not, film is an artistic medium that was created in a specific subtext. If a low budget limited the production to a black and white version, then that version is the one that counts. Artistic hindsight gets most filmmakers into hot water (think of Steven Spielberg and his definitive versions of CLOSE ENCOUNTERS or George Lucas with his redone special effects for the STAR WARS original trilogy), and tampering with one's art tends to lessen the overall impact of that art. Colorization becomes, as I said, a novelty when it exits alongside the original black and white version. But the thought of losing the original black and white version of a movie in a world where only the colorized one remains (thank heavens Harryhausen is only tempering with digital versions of his movies and not actual negatives or prints) is frightening. Warts, flaws and all, the original movie is simply what it is, and what it is translates into the reason for its longevity and the emotional impact it holds. In this Botox, stomach stapling and liposuction world, sometimes flaws and imperfections form the foundation of why art is profound and ultimately beautiful.
February 3, 2008WILLIAM CASTLE and THE WHISTLER, Columbia's Noir Movie Series
TCM is an American movie treasure trove of entertainment. Within the past half year, Turner Classic Movies has begun screening many B movie series that are not yet available on DVD. For those fans who feel Charlie Chan and Mr. Moto were the only worthwhile B series made during the 1930s and 1940s, think again. Low-rent major studio Columbia produced many wonderful series, mostly mystery and crime oriented. We have The Lone Wolf, Perry Mason, Boston Blackie and one of the oddest, The Whistler ! All of these B series and others should be released to home video without delay, as these seldom-seen programmers provide hours of exciting and edge-of-your-set thrills, each running a little over an hour.
The Whistler series, based upon the popular radio series of the time, featured a young William Castle as the director of the earlier entries of the series (and sometimes serving as co-screenwriter). Not that his directorial touches were anything more than pedestrian (although he populates his Whistler movies with dark shadows and dank lighting as much as possible), but this series approximated the tone and look of film noir whenever possible. The series reminds me of Universal's Inner Sanctum series more than a little. Featuring an off screen narrator and moralistic tales of revenge, The Inner Sanctum series bolstered the career of Lon Chaney, Jr. as a non-monstrous, leading man entity. While he wasn't particularly effective, Chaney, Jr.'s presence was felt indeed. In each of the Universal series, Chaney starred but played different roles. Likewise, The Whistler series usually starred Richard Dix playing a different role in each movie, usually some one sympathetic yet criminally inclined. The screenplays featured fractured people maneuvered into making bad choices, choices that typically ended their lives or at least ruined them. The Whistler movies open and close with the on screen silhouetted figure of the mysterious Whistler, an avenging angel who teaches the audience a moral lesson or two (although the shadowy narrator never appears in the stories themselves, except as window dressing).
Two of the better entries, both directed by William Castle, are VOICE OF THE WHISTLER (1945) and MYSTERIOUS INTRUDER (1946). While these and other entries suffer from substandard acting (Richard Dix is dynamic yet awkward and sometimes over-the-top) and heavily moralistic scripting, the cinematography and mood of each movie makes these flaws easy to forget. For instance, in VOICE OF THE WHISTLER, a wealthy but lonely man, who thinks he has months to live, goes off to a poor part of the city to live and to rest, helped by his friend Sparrow (Rhys Williams), a former boxer who now drives a taxi and is loving life, even though his glory days of prize fighting prominence have long faded. Sinclair (Richard Dix) meets a nurse who is engaged to Fred (James Cardwell), a young doctor, but Sinclair enters a business deal promising to leave this nurse all his wealth, for a few months of wedded joy. The nurse Joan (Lynn Merrick) tells her fiancé that she is doing it for them, but when Sinclair miraculously improves, moving with Joan into a mysterious and desolate lighthouse, it is only a short while before Fred decides to come visiting. Sinclair plants the seeds of the perfect murder into Fred, and when the doctor attempts to kill Sinclair in his bed at night, Sinclair is ready and waiting and instead kills Fred. But his clever scheme is foiled when Sparrow, fearing for his friend, believing the lie that Sinclair gives about sleepwalking at night, nails the windows shut. Instead of being able to throw Fred's body out on the rocks, pretending he fell trying to save Sinclair from sleepwalking, Sinclair is revealed to be the murderer and pays the ultimate price when Joan, demonstrating that her veins are filled with ice and not blood, plots to send Sinclair up the river so she can inherit his wealth, even if she is doomed to live a solitary existence in the lighthouse. But this is a typical Whistler entry, filled with murder, moral choices and greed. People we first admire (both Joan and Sinclair are very sympathetic and likable) reveal their darker leanings once lust and greed acts upon their easily manipulated personalities. But the final cat-and-mouse tug of war over Joan in the lighthouse plays out wonderfully with taut suspense and twists and turns. For a little B production, VOICE OF THE WHISTLER delivers the goods.
Equally impressive was the following year's MYSTERIOUS INTRUDER. Once again the moral ambivalence created from living in a dark universe emerges front and center. The story involves an old neighborhood music storeowner Stillwell (Paul E. Burns), who is trying to locate a young woman, who as a little girl used to live in the neighborhood. Her immigrant mother, in other to raise needed cash, would give family heirlooms to the kindly shopkeeper for cash, but Stillwell, with a heart of gold, kept the heirlooms. Among these heirlooms were two cylinder disk recordings of Jenny Lind singing live, both worth a fortune, and Stillman wants the young woman to have the recordings. But he hasn't seen her in seven years, when she was still a child. Stillwell hires shady private detective Don Gale (Richard Dix once again) to find the woman, but the detective is not able to get the old man to explain why he wants to find her. Gale hires a beautiful blonde, Freda (Helen Mowery), to pose as Elora Lund, the missing girl, to try to pry information from the shopkeeper. Once Stillwell, in the cellar of his shop, tells Freda something very expensive is stored on the premises, the lumbering Mike Mazurki (in his most frightening Rondo Hatton mode), actually hired by Freda to double-cross Gale, emerges from the shadows to kill Stillwell. Before long both Freda and the Mazurki character are dead, and the actual Elora Lund (Pamela Blake) appears mysteriously, having been in a sanitarium recovering from a car crash. Lund, very poor and innocent, works with Gale to find out the truth of the treasure buried in the cellar. Gale, planning to find the heirloom treasure for himself, sneaks up upon the criminals searching for the "what's it" in the shop's cellar. Not aware that the police have arrived by another entrance, Gale goes down the cellar steps blasting away, only to kill a policeman. As the Whistler's voice-over informs us that Gale will go to the chair for his crime, even more depressing is the fact that during all the mayhem a bullet pierced the case housing the two Jenny Lind cylinder recordings, shattering both. So the kindly Stillwell and equally warm Elora both end up dead or penniless. Stillwell died for nothing and Elora will only inherit the kind wishes of an old man. In this world of rare kindness comes a stronger air of decay, greed and deception. People lustful for easy money lie, cheat, double-cross and kill to accomplish their goal, but they always come up short. Too bad the kind people suffer by getting caught in this crossfire of deception.
The Whistler movie series contain stories cut from the same creative well, a morally corrupt universe that mimics the world of film noir, a world where the good are corrupted and the virtuous are crushed underfoot. And sometimes such moral lessons can be entertaining and surprising as well. But never has a B movie series been darker or more depressing.
January 22, 2008MICKEY SPILLANE , Film Noir and Hard-Boiled Fiction
When I became an avid fan of film noir decades ago, I gravitated to the private detective avenue of noir cinema (actually, a very small sub-genre of what is labeled film noir): THE MALTESE FALCON; MURDER, MY SWEET; THE BIG SLEEP; LADY IN THE LAKE; KISS ME DEADLY, etc. Perhaps this hard-boiled variety of noir--with its sleazy underbelly, unique characterizations and dank shadow-world--most approximated the cinematic world of horror that's always been my favorite.
After becoming a fan of the movies, I decided to go back and check out the literature, mainly the classic stuff by the masters: Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Cornell Woolridge, James Cain, etc. But for some reason I always avoided Mickey Spillane and considered his work to be third-rate pulp and on the level of the penny-a-word hacks.
I finally got involved with Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer detective series last summer. Finding two wonderful paperback collections on Amazon.com ( The Mike Hammer Collection Volume 1 and 2 ), I was introduced to the first six Mike Hammer novels in quality trade paperbacks for under $25: I, THE JURY; MY GUN IS QUICK; VENGEANCE IS MINE; ONE LONELY NIGHT, THE BIG KILL and KISS ME, DEADLY.
Wow, was I wrong in my blind assumption about the quality of the Mike Hammer series!
In spite of the fact that the Spillane's Mike Hammer was intended as an on-going series of popular paperback novels (which Spillane adapted originally from a comic book he was trying to sell after the war), little more than page-turners, grisly thrillers with no aspirations of achieving higher literary status, Spillane crafted a master detective inhabiting a violent world told in a unique prose style consisting of about 19 novels that grip the reader from the first to the last page. Seldom have I been so entertained... and riveted. And surprisingly, Mike Hammer becomes a complex character, psychologically driven, haunted, a loner, but a misanthrope with a keen sense of caring and morality.
Always told in the first person, the reader comes to inhabit the psyche of this archetype 1940s/1950s detective, warts and all. Strains of Ian Fleming's James Bond series can be seen in the Hammer series, as the private detective (who thinks of himself as a private cop) is not above taking the law into his own hands and dispersing justice with his .45 and a bullet to the gut, his idea that slow, painful death is the only form of justice worth serving. Hammer believes criminals should not get off easy, but should suffer for all the Hell they created. Hammer is always driven by his personal moral code and revenge motivates everything he does. A friend is murdered (sometimes a shady friend) and Hammer seeks the most vicious form of revenge. In one novel Hammer, alone and despondent, nurses a drink in a low-rent saloon and watches as a down-on-his-luck safe robber, kissing and abandoning his infant baby, prepares to go out outside into the mean streets to meet his death, leaving his baby an orphan. Hammer decides to tail the man who walks on down the street. Suddenly, a car pulls alongside and shots ring out as the man falls to the street. One occupant of the attacking car jumps out and searches the man, looking for something, but the other occupant in the car mows down the other occupant by brutally running him over in the gutter. The baby's care is now in the hands of Hammer and he vows vengeance. Interestingly, the infant itself delivers justice, Hammer-style, in the novel's final page.
The prose that Spillane creates is both clipped and expansive, simple in the Hemingway style yet descriptive and stark. Spillane begins THE BIG KILL with the following prose:
It was one of those nights when the sky came down and wrapped itself around the world. The rain clawed at the windows of the bar like an angry cat and tried to sneak in every time some drunk lurched in the door. The place reeked of stale beer and soggy men with enough cheap perfume thrown in to make you sick.
And he ends I, THE JURY with the following, after he gut-shoots the woman he thought he loved and the unknown person he had been seeking since the first page:
I stood up in front of her and shoved the gun into my pocket. I turned and looked at the rubber plant behind me. There on the table was the gun, with the safety catch off and the silencer still attached. Those loving arms would have reached it nicely. A face that was waiting to be kissed was really waiting to be splattered with blood when she blew my head off. My blood. When I heard her fall I turned around. Her eyes had pain in them now, the pain preceding death. Pain and unbelief.
"How c-could you?" She gasped.I only had a moment before talking to a corpse, but I got it in.
"It was easy," I said.
Hammer's best friend--and he's just as much a business associate as a true friend--is Pat Chambers, head of homicide, a truly dedicated and honest cop. Hammer, being a private policeman, does not have to follow the same rules that Pat does, so in many ways Chambers admires Hammer for being able to disperse justice without all the red tape and restrictions placed upon the department by the D.A.'s office. However, Chambers becomes frustrated by Hammer when Hammer's methods undermine police procedure and intrude upon elaborate undercover work that the police department initiates. It is also apparent the cops have to protect the political aspirations of the town's most powerful and wealthiest citizens, and Hammer is often at odds with such people. So Hammer and Chambers are involved in a love/hate relationship. Frequently Chambers pulls his buddy's ass out of the fire, but at other times he is moments away from arresting Hammer, complaining time and time again that he warned his friend to avoid involvement in areas he was told to avoid. But as Hammer barks, he only wants the small-time creeps, the ones he has to kill to avenge his own misanthropic system of morality. He tells Pat he will leave the big boys for him to arrest and gain the glory. But at the same time he makes clear he will not follow the letter of the law and that he will kill the party he is after (often times he does not know the identity of that party until the final page!) with his .45. No trial, no jail, no processing by the system. For Hammer he is the self-appointed jury and executioner and his private detective license allows him this latitude. The police and D.A.'s office look upon him as a necessary evil and frequently look the other way.
And the women in every Spillane novel are goddesses, placed upon pedestals, worshiped and adored. Spillane frequently differentiates between women who are pretty and those who are "beautiful all over." He prefers the beauty of a mature woman and he often rejects the advances of such women who mean him no good. He is dedicated and perhaps even in love with his gorgeous secretary Velda, more a best bud than marriage material. He secretly knows she is his soul mate but his inability to remain monogamous only reflects his serious commitment issues. Their on-going relationship is one that ripens throughout the continuing saga of the novels. Sex is not explicit in Spillane's novels, but a woman's nude body is described explicitly. Mechanics are never important to Spillane when describing passionate lovemaking, yet the sizzle and the heat of implication matter most.
Those archetype sequences where Hammer is beat up, tortured and left for dead are always told vividly, in the first person, with descriptions of Hammer's teeth being pushed through his lip or the mentioning of a pool of blood where a nose used to be. His description of blacking out due to pain and suddenly ripping back to consciousness are always gripping and worded carefully. Somehow, as he wonders wounded back to his car to drive either to his apartment or to police headquarters, such moments are always punctuated by the reactions of those he knows who react to the beating he received with revulsion, tears, or warm hugs and clean bandages. Somehow he heals, both physically and psychically, and does it all over again.
While the fiction of Chandler and Hammett is more literary stylish and varied, the fiction of Mickey Spillane is more visceral, moralistic and emotional. And raw. To end with an analogy, perhaps Spillane is the great "B" movie of hard-boiled literature. But for my money, a great B picture is worth its weight in gold, and these first six novels in the Mike Hammer series, created by the highly underrated Mickey Spillane, are in fact pure gold.
January 13, 2008HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL And Its Classic Cheap Thrills
Today I showed William Castle's HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL to one of my classes, and darn it, that film never fails to entertain.
Few films carry such nostalgia for me as that film. I'll explain why a little later.
While writer Robb White was attempting to blend the pithy dialogue of film noir with the horror (haunted house) genre, the film fails miserably as high art. White's script lacks the subtlety and emotional despair of film noir and the subtlety of the best ghost cinema. The dialogue seems stilted and Vincent Price's delivery of the dialogue is heavy-handed. As film noir it seems almost like parody with the initial exchange between Price and his onscreen wife Carol Ohmart oozing with bile and overblown nuance. The delightful sequence includes a playful episode where Price holds a still-corked yet unwired, shaken none the less, campaign bottle and aims it threateningly towards his wife. Somehow, even if the noir-ish aspirations come up short, the film never lets its audience down.
The horror sequences are also over-the-top, but magnificently so. We have the creepy, almost nightmarish, sequence where forever-screaming heroine Carolyn Craig stands totally frozen as a snake-like rope curls around her ankles as the corpse of Ohmart floats effortlessly, just outside the barred window. Overdone creepy music accents the shenanigans. In another sequence Ohmart goes down to the cellar to meet her lover, the conniving physician who supposedly just deposited Price's corpse in the convenient acid bath. However, down in the dungeon, a puppet-like skeleton that speaks with Price's voice confronts Ohmart, backing her into a grisly death as she plunges into the same acid bath from which the bag of bones emerged. But the one sequence that belongs in the horror film hall of fame occurs as Carolyn Craig, bent over and banging on the walls of a secret room, confronts the witchy caretaker Leona Anderson whose frozen grimace and roller-skate exit never fails to bring an audience to at least a few full throttle screams.
About that emotional nostalgia I referred to earlier... I still have a color photo of me wearing my Sunday best and cute little spring hat the day I journeyed to the Vilma Theater in Baltimore to see HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL in 1958. My special guest, a one-time delight, was when my next-door neighbor Elaine Penn (an "older" woman at least 12 or 13 at the time) condescended to take me to the movies to see the horror classic. We never went to another movie ever together, but for me this was something special. Also, this was the day I experienced Castle's gimmicky "Emergo" stunt where the playful skeleton at the Vilma would be flung over the heads of the audience, on wire, during the climatic sequence also featuring an onscreen skeleton. Take it from me, as an 8-year-old horror movie fanatic, seeing such a stunt at this impressionable age has never left me. Granted, the overall experience was most likely pretty chessy when re-evaluated in adult hindsight, but for me that Sunday it was an iconic, cinematic experience, one that will be with me forever.
Interestingly, Robb White's script creates simplistic characters the way children envision them. The cold, bitchy (and over-sexed) wife hates her smarmy-yet-wealthy husband, whose fortune is his main (only) attraction. The supporting cast contains the well-chiseled and handsome hero (Richard Long) and the sympathetic young secretary (Craig) who desperately needs the money, since she is supporting her entire family. The virtuous appear more so, and the evil are dastardly without redeeming merit. In the world of black and white cinema, even the characters represent all the shades of gray.
HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL is not a bad movie (in the Ed Wood sense), nor is it a classic film experience. Instead, it is a rare treat... a juvenile horror film (the horror film equivalent of the B Western matinee feature) that became classic by virtue of its excesses that simply entertain. Featuring a dripping with malice Vincent Price performance in a world populated with over-saturated snippets of film noir dialogue, featuring a workmanlike cast in a haunted mansion, one filled with skeletons, decapitated bloody heads, a ghastly woman caretaker, dank rooms with secret exits, falling chandeliers and fresh blood dripping from a dried ceiling stain from an earlier killing, HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL was a classic for children in 1958. No other film quite filled that niche (except for perhaps Castle's next film THE TINGLER, which populates the same universe). Unlike other juvenile horror B romps such as DAUGHTER OF DR. JEKYLL or THE FOUR SKULLS OF JONATHAN DRAKE, HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL tried to stand a little higher, tried to present a slightly more adult vision (for a film intended to appeal to youngsters) and tried to maintain its darker, domestic bile a little more intensely, compared to its peers.
Few films are such a product of their times as HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL, a film that for me still holds up under repeated viewings. And besides, the movie boasts one of the more remarkable movie posters of the 1950s era.
The movie establishes Vincent Price as one of the screen's most intelligent and malevolent villains. Finally, skeletons never appeared more frightening, ever!
January 1, 2008DVD TOP-10 LIST: BEST OF 2007
It's the end of one year and the beginning of the next. And this year has been a particularly strong year for DVD releases. I still haven't made the leap to Blu-ray or HD-DVD, although I am quite impressed by the quality that I observe in my friend Charlie's home theater (who has HD-DVD). And seeing old classics such as VERTIGO in HD on the HDNet Movie channel is simply a mind-blowing experience. The stronger Technicolor hues are restored and the density and sharpness is akin to the original theatrical experience. But standard definition releases are still mind-blowing themselves, and here are a few of the best. My top-10 list is in no particular order, but here are the ones that thrilled me the most in 2007.
FOX HORROR CLASSICS COLLECTION: THE UNDYING MONSTER, THE LODGER, HANGOVER SQUARE
Besides the outstanding cover art and case design, these three under-appreciated movies make their DVD release with outstanding video prints. The lesser film of the three, THE UNDYING MONSTER, has the sharpest and cleanest look, but the other two movies are not far behind. Laird Cregar, in THE LODGER and HANGOVER SQUARE, along with the already released film noir I WAKE UP SCREAMING, demonstrates his considerable talents and his death at a young age becomes even more tragic. The two Cregar movies (HANGOVER SQUARE, THE LODGER) are wonderful. Cregar's performance as Slade (aka Jack the Ripper) in THE LODGER becomes a template for Anthony Perkins' Norman Bates in PSYCHO, with his psychologically damaged back story, his shy and awkward interactions with other people and his isolation living alone in an attic apartment becoming the template for Norman Bates. But Cregar's almost animalistic performance when he is discovered and chased up and down the catwalks at the theater makes his character multi-dimensional and one of the best of 1940s cinema. And the documentaries and extras included are first rate.ICONS OF HORROR: THE SAM KATZMAN COLLECTION: CREATURE WITH THE ATOM BRAIN, THE WEREWOLF, ZOMBIES OF MORA TAU, THE GIANT CLAW
Poverty Row producer "Jungle" Sam Katzman was always trashed by critics for his low-rent productions. Oddly, Ed Wood and others were hoisted to stardom because of their films' cheapness, but Katzman's films were too professional to earn many "Golden Turkey" awards but too cheap to be taken seriously by fans.
Time for re-evaluation!
The films in this set demonstrate that Katzman produced a series of films for which he could be proud, especially THE WEREWOLF, whose local color mountain setting and bravura performance by Steven Ritch as the werewolf elevates the film to being one of the best B horror productions of the 1950s. And let's face it, once we giggle once or twice at the marionette monster of THE GIANT CLAW, the film's cast (the superb Jeff Morrow) and plotting make the film today seem far better than it did in the past. ZOMBIES OF MORA TAU is slight, admittedly (with a few audacious underwater sequences), but the cross-genre thriller CREATURE WITH THE ATOM BRAIN is delightfully quirky. With wonderful video prints, these films demonstrate that Katzman sometimes got a raw deal with fans and that his best films stand right up there with the finest of the Bs of the 1950s.
I've even grown an affinity for the puppet bird of THE GIANT CLAW!
FILM NOIR CLASSIC COLLECTION, VOLUME 4: ACT OF VIOLENCE, MYSTERY STREET, CRIME WAVE, DECOY, THE BIG STEAL, ILLEGAL, WHERE DANGER LIVES, TENSION, THEY LIVE BY NIGHT, SIDE STREET
Even though Warner Bros. first brought film noir back to prominence with its first box set released a few years ago, it seems that the less flashy noir releases from Fox bettered the more audacious releases from Warner Home Video. After releasing a classic initial box set, Warner, with volumes 2 and 3, released borderline noir releases with only a few gems, such as THE NARROW MARGIN. But with this gigantic box set featuring 10 film noir releases, Warner Bros. once again re-establishes its position as being number one distributor of vintage-era DVD releases.
Most titles here are not classics, but they are rare, seldom seen film noir movies that are more than entertaining. The most well-known mainstream titles are ACT OF VIOLENCE, with Robert Ryan pitted against Van Heflin, THE BIG STEAL, with Robert Mitchum trying to repeat his film success achieved with OUT OF THE PAST, but coming up a little short, and THEY LIVE BY NIGHT, the story of young love between an innocent country girl and a murderous young criminal on the run from the law. However, seldom-seen gems appear in this set including CRIME WAVE, DECOY (with the American debut of Jean Gillie as one of the cruelest femme fatales in noir history) and ILLEGAL, with a great Edward G. Robinson performance. In fact every film here in the set (even the over-wrought WHERE DANGER LIVES with Robert Mitchum, who plays a less than convincing surgeon) is well worth seeing. And for a street price of less than $50, these 10 films are a bargain.
RETURN OF DRACULA
THE VAMPIREWith the triumphant return of the Midnite Movies series, now featuring both MGM productions and United Artists ones, this past fall saw the release of hordes of titles, most released in double-feature sets for bargain prices.
Most fans gushed over the release of the uncut THE WITCHFINDER GENERAL, but I've never been much a fan of the movie and felt it featured a rather over-the-top Vincent Price performance in a rather ugly movie. Sorry folks.
For me the Midnite Movies release of these two excellent B productions from the 1950s, both scripted by Pat Fielder and directed by Paul Landres, was a dream come true. Both movies feature a small-town 1950s setting and capture perfectly the culture of the times. Both films feature outstanding performances. Francis Lederer shines as Count Dracula, while John Beal is outstanding as kindly Dr. Beecher in THE VAMPIRE, with Kenneth Tobey submitting one of his best heroic performances.
True, I saw both productions in the theaters as an impressionable child, but both films hold up as being two examples of the best B productions of the 1950s, featuring very literate scripts, well produced set design and art direction, wonderful performances and plenty of chills and atmospheric horror. With these pristine video prints, both films are just as effective today as they were 50 years ago.
UNIVERSAL HORROR CLASSIC MOVIE ARCHIVES: THE BLACK CAT, MAN MADE MONSTER, HORROR ISLAND, NIGHT MONSTER, CAPTIVE WILD WOMAN
True, we are down to the dribs and drabs of unreleased Universal horror movies, but the movies on this marvelous box set are fan favorites, especially Lon Chaney, Jr.'s Universal debut as "Dynamo Dan the Electric Man" from MAN MADE MONSTER and the odd "Old Dark House" horror mystery, NIGHT MONSTER, with Bela Lugosi in a supporting role. Even the first "Ape Woman" entry, CAPTIVE WILD WOMAN, features John Carradine in one of his best mad scientist performances. But perhaps the gem of the collection is the seldom-seen HORROR ISLAND that takes the standard "Old Dark House" scenario and beefs it up and makes it fresh. THE BLACK CAT (1941) is too generic a mystery and features Bela Lugosi in little more than a cameo role. But once again these films have been lovingly restored and look brand new. For a street price of $20, this collection is a bargain.
RIO BRAVO
One of John Wayne's finest Westerns, bolstered by Howard Hawks' direction, becomes one of the two finest Western entries from the 1950s (along with John Ford's THE SEARCHERS). The film has been restored, and while the Technicolor hues do not appear as vibrant as they should be, the film has never looked better on home video. The performances make this one a classic, with Dean Martin creating perhaps his finest onscreen performance ever, as the town drunk and former deputy who slowly regains his dignity, with the help of his friend and sheriff, John T. Chance (Wayne). And Walter Brennan appears in perhaps his finest comical supporting role ever, as Stumpy. RIO BRAVO is simply a fun romp with suspense and action delivered in grand Hawks' style.
MR. MOTO COLLECTION, VOLUME 2: MR. MOTO'S GAMBLE, MR. MOTO IN DANGER ISLAND, MR. MOTO TAKES A VACATION, MR. MOTO'S LAST WARNING
The second and final box set of Mr. Moto films becomes a revelation. Compared to the similar Charlie Chan boxed sets with Warner Oland, I find myself preferring the Moto films. Even though both series are detective/mystery thrillers with comic overtones, the Moto films seem to have the more intense direction (Moto can be a mean mother!) and better-crafted plots. Both Moto volumes taken together, constituting the entire Moto series, is dynamite entertainment with a consistency in the series that surpasses the Chan series of Oland's. To me the Chan movies are leisurely paced and the tension never becomes overwhelming. The Moto movies are more hardcore and feature more threatening violence and mayhem. Even though the audience knows that Moto will survive, the Moto films make audiences sweat a little more. Somehow we fear more for our hero. Don't get me wrong, the Charlie Chans with Warner Oland are great, it's just that I prefer the Moto films for their fired up intensity.
THE THIRD MAN (2-DISC CRITERION EDITION)
Even though Criterion already released a definitive version of THE THIRD MAN several years ago, they remastered and improved upon their already pristine print and delivered a second disc of supplemental extras for their re-release. THE THIRD MAN, directed by Carol Reed, features perhaps Orson Welles' finest supporting performance (he is anticipated, known by everyone in post WW2 Vienna, and is apparently dead when the movie begins), his Harry Lime not making an appearance until the final third of the movie, and then only sporadically. This post-war spy thriller is a gem, boasting an intelligent, suspenseful script that keeps us guessing until the final end credits appear.
THE MARIO BAVA COLLECTION, VOLUME 1: BLACK SUNDAY, BLACK SABBATH, THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, KILL BABY KILL, KNIVES OF THE AVENGER
Mario Bava is the director who bridged classic horror cinema with modern horror cinema. While the director made many mediocre movies (many of which are still eccentric and superlative in parts--but flawed), this first boxed set collection features his finest work, best represented by BLACK SUNDAY (his all-time classic) and THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, a film that is just as iconic for helping to initiate the giallo subgenre. To me this is Bava's finest work. BLACK SABBATH bears all the flaws of the anthology structure--inconsistent quality stories, plots that would be better if they were fleshed out to feature length and problematic pacing and rhythm. The two stories, "A Drop of Water" and "The Wurdalak," are dreamily rendered with outstanding Technicolor cinematography. Having Boris Karloff as our "host" and star of "The Wurdalak" is only a boon. However BLACK SABBATH lacks the consistency of BLACK SUNDAY. KILL BABY KILL is excellent, but its diminishing production values and lethargic pacing (although moodily rendered) takes this potentially classic supernatural yarn down a peg or two. Simply presenting BLACK SUNDAY and THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH with superb prints is all that is needed to make this box set one of the best of the year.
PERRY MASON SEASON 2, VOLUME 1 AND 2
When I was seven years old, my mother watched PERRY MASON every week on television, and so did I. Being a child I did not quite appreciate all the complexities of the law and human relationships, but somehow that show and its dramatic theme music stuck with me. When the TV series first came to DVD last year, I scooped it up and have continued to do so, now finishing off the second and superior season. For an hour, in every episode, the formula continues to work. We have a human drama leading to a murder, and somehow Perry Mason gets involved. By the second half or even as late as the final third of the hour, audiences witness the trial, usually featuring Mason pitting his skill against lawyer Hamilton Burger and Lt. Tragg. Mason never lost a case, yet the suspense of the courtyard drama never subsides. Viewing the series today we have the added advantage of seeing veteran stars make co-starring appearances (even Fay Wray). For my money, PERRY MASON was the definitive drama of the 1950s. And the restored video prints look fabulous.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MIRROR: BOB DYLAN LIVE AT THE NEWPORT FOLK FESTIVAL (1963-1965)
After 40 years of rumors and myths involving Bob Dylan's appearance at three years' worth of Newport Folk Festivals, including the final electric appearance (with Al Kooper and members of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band backing him up) as the audience boos and politely applauds the iconic artist as he reinvents himself, only momentarily, as a rock'n'roll icon. Such movie footage is priceless. Conflicting stories of Dylan returning to the stage, abandoning his electric band for an acoustic guitar encore set, with tears in his eyes, can finally be settled as the footage has been shot tight on Dylan's face. The performances themselves are exemplary, showcasing a fairly well scrubbed Dylan morphing into the frizzy and less clean-cut performer as 1963 melds into 1965. Not just for Dylan fans, but also for followers of popular culture, THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MIRROR is a treasure too long kept under wraps.
