Foster on Film – Page 101 – The Film Criticism of Matthew M. Foster

Teenage Zombies (1959)

Oct 051959

Swell teenagers Reg, Skip, Julie, and Pam land their boat on a deserted island and become prisoners of a female scientist (Katherine Victor) and her zombies. She is working with a foreign power that plans to use her zombie gas to take over the United States. Luckily, two of their friends won’t give up the search for the missing teens.

Before watching Teenage Zombies, I was unaware of a major artistic debate going on in the film world. The issue: does moving the camera distract from a film’s central themes? On the static side is writer/director/artist Jerry Warren who brought the world such existential works as Frankenstein’s Island, She Was a Hippy Vampire, and Blood of the Man Devil. Opposing his well considered opinion is…well…everyone else.

Teenage Zombies shows Warren at his most artistic, setting his camera up in one location and then having people walk by. His indoor scenes step up his stylish immobility as not only is the camera locked in place on one side of a room, but the actors rarely move, standing rooted to their marks as they read their lines from what I assume is a cue card (certainly nothing in the film makes me believe the actors knew what they were saying before they pronounced the words). Perhaps the greatest example of Warren’s brilliance comes in a fight scene where the camera is set on two people wrestling on the floor. When they get up, we get a shot of their legs below the knees as they run out of frame.

Warren’s technique also has the advantage of saving hundreds of dollars on set construction as no room needs more than one wall (I’d say thousands, but the entire film couldn’t have cost more than a thousand dollars).

Outside of this fascinating controversy, Teenage Zombies also gave me insight into 1950s teens. Apparently, they were swell and said “crazy” a lot. The males were all brave and daring, while the females stood around waiting to be rescued. They also respected adults unless the adult dressed like Morticia Adams.

Ed Wood had nothing on Jerry Warren.

Back to Mad ScientistsBack to Zombies

Mad Scientists, Mad Scientists, Reviews, Zombies Tagged with: Toxic

On the Beach (1959)

Oct 051959

The only survivors of a nuclear war are residents of Australia and the crew of an American submarine that was submerged when the bombs went off. With only months left before the fallout arrives, those left try and deal with their inevitable deaths. Moira Davidson (Ava Gardner), a pleasant alcoholic, starts a relationship with the newly widowed U.S. Commander, Dwight Towers (Gregory Peck), while Lt. Commander Peter Holmes (Anthony Perkins) must find a way to get his wife to accept what is happening, and what it will mean to their baby. Scientist Julian Osborne (Fred Astaire) enters a dangerous race as a last fling. Out of desperation, Towers takes his sub north, with Osborne and Holmes onboard, to investigate a radio signal and test to see if maybe there might be a place in the world that is safe, but no one believes there is much chance.

Watching On the Beach now is a different experience than watching it thirty years ago (I can’t say much about what it was like when it was first released—I was…young). Back then, a nuclear war could have occurred at any moment (whereas now, I feel reasonably safe for several months). However, the big shift isn’t in political reality, but in perception. Somehow, watching this film was once a subversive act. Conservatives blasted it, and any film like it, as anti-American. For those of you too young to remember, conservatives were still claiming well into the ’80s that we could win a nuclear war. This lunacy peaked with the TV movie The Day After, when rightwing commentators and politicians demanded equal time to explain why nuclear war was an acceptable enterprise if it stopped them damn Ruskies.

Well, On the Beach came out at the end of the ’50s (when one could expect the conservative reaction to be even more extreme), and was the first anti-nuclear film that didn’t involve giant cockroaches or mutants. Time may have diminished its power, but it is still a compelling and bleak reminder of what could happen with only a touch of human stupidity, and that’s one quality we have in abundance.

The acting, directing, cinematography, and sets are all above reproach (unless you are obsessive about Australian accents). The story is slight, and even with little happening and a leisurely pace, On the Beach never drags. A feeling of dread hangs over everything so completely that fast action would be out of place.

Producer/director Stanley Kramer (Inherit the Wind-1960, Judgment at Nuremberg-1961, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner-1967) had a point to make, as he usually did, so wasn’t concerned with a realistic portrait of a post-apocalyptic world. He wanted to show the best in humanity after the results of the worst. So, the film is filled with controlled, dedicated, unselfish, saints. They have psychological problems, but nothing behavioral. There are no riots, no hording, and no complaints outside of party conversations. The sailors show up for work each day, and a race is the closest thing to “going-wild.” I think he could have conveyed the theme without everyone being quite so dignified.

But then that out-of-place dignity may be what keeps On the Beach relevant, because it makes it something other than just a warning. It is a fable, and the moral is: take joy in the things that are important in life, and do it now, because it can all be taken away in an instant.

When I first read Nevil Shute’s novel, also titled On the Beach, I considered it one of the most important books ever written. And the film struck me the same way. These many years later, neither are on my top ten list, but both are satisfying.

Post-Apocalyptic, Reviews Tagged with: Four Reels

Too Many Crooks (1959)

Oct 031959

Fingers (George Cole) is the incompetent leader of a band of unsuccessful thieves, made up of grumpy and nearly competent Sid (Sidney James), illiterate wrestler Snowdrop (Bernard Bresslaw), the agreeable Whisper (Joe Melia), and the buxom and stunning Charmaine (Vera Day). After several failed jobs, Fingers comes up with a plan to kidnap the daughter of Billy Gordon (Terry-Thomas) a rich cad and tax cheat. It goes wrong, and instead of his daughter, they kidnap Gordon’s much-put-upon wife, Lucy (Brenda de Banzie).

A thoroughly enjoyable little picture that works due to a clever script, but mainly due to the entertaining and familiar (for Post-War British Comedy fans) cast. George Cole was one of the stalwarts of the movement. A protégé of Alastair Sim, he could slip between wild character parts (such as Flash Harry in The Belles of St. Trinian’s) and mildly goofy romantic leads (like in The Green Man). Here he’s in the middle, a somewhat sympathetic fool. Sid James was best known for the Carry On series, films that were a bit too music-hall and silly for my tastes, but James was always enjoyable and a major force in English comedy through the ‘50s and ‘60s. Here he’s a voice of reason, or at least understandable frustration. And there’s Terry-Thomas, who specialized in a range of upper class twits. Here he’s the strong-willed nasty type and he’s hilarious, leering and sneering. Bresslaw, Day, and de Banzie have no trouble keeping up their end, and they are joined by John Le Mesurier, who seems to be in every good British comedy for several decades and is always part of making them good. Even if they had nothing to work with, this group of actors would make for a pleasant ninety minutes.

But they did have more, with a script from dependable Michael Pertwee (brother to Jon Pertwee of Doctor Who fame), stylish directing from Mario Zampi, and a zippy jazz score from Stanley Black.

Too Many Crooks doesn’t bring anything new to the table. It shuffles things around a bit, but the situations and characters had been done before, and would be done again. It’s just done so nicely. It isn’t a standout movie, but a cozy one. It isn’t the one to start with if you haven’t watched Post-War British Comedies. But once you are a fan, this is comfort food.

Other Post-War British Comedies directed by Mario Zampi include Laughter in Paradise (1951) and The Naked Truth (1957),

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Three & 1/2 Reels

School for Scoundrels or How to Win Without Actually Cheating! (1960)

Oct 021959

Kindly, weak-willed Henry Palfrey (Ian Carmichael) is cheated and abused by used car salesmen (Dennis Price, Peter Jones), a head waiter (John Le Mesurier), an upper class cad (Terry-Thomas), and his employees. When charming April Smith (Janette Scott) is stolen away from him, Henry takes drastic action, and enrolls in The College of Lifesmanship, run by Mr. Potter (Alastair Sim), where he can learn the ploys to beat others in life.

A very British film, School for Scoundrels is based on Stephen Potter’s books about the College of Lifemanship. As the books are wit-high, plot-low (if there is any plot at all), the film integrates the tone from the books with a story conceived for the screen, and generally it works well. There’s enough direction to keep you interested and enough character development to keep you caring. The jokes aren’t the type that will have you falling out of your chair, but they should keep a smile on your face.

In other hands, this would be a forgettable if amusing little flick. But the actors are superior to the material and carry the show. Ian Carmichael is rarely remembered on this side of the pond (not to imply that he’s dead), and when he is, it is probably for his later work on television mysteries that popped up on Masterpiece Theater, but he was an extremely effective, comedic, leading man in the late ’50s. He excelled as the pleasant innocent tossed into a cruel world, always befuddled and searching for a solution to a problem he can’t grasp. For most of School for Scoundrels he plays this role to a T. But he also gets to reverse this, becoming a self-confident rat that we can cheer for. He turns out to be even better displaying a bit of cruelty, always with a knowing glance and a false smile.

Carmichael is surrounded by the best that Britain had to offer in the ’50s. Terry-Thomas steels every scene as a bounder who, for a time, is always one-up on our hero. It’s the kind of role he could do in his sleep, but here he is awake. Best of all, there is the master, Alastair Sim. Sim, with his deep, falsely-sincere tones and bloodhound eyes, makes every line a little funnier than anyone else could. Perhaps the script’s biggest mistake is not putting him in six or seven more scenes. Janette Scott is lovely in a role that asks her to do nothing more than be lovely. Hey, she does exactly what’s required.

Even the bit parts and cameo’s are filled with the best of the best: Dennis Price, Peter Jones (The Book in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy), John Le Mesurier, and Hattie Jacques. These are people who know how to be funny.

Unfortunately, the film peters out. Great acting and good gags can only go so far. The movie needs a destination. Once the story embraces the darker edge of The College of Lifemanship, the filmmakers’ chicken out from the less socially acceptable consequences, and drably pull everything back to middle class morality. In an attempt to make the end someone palatable, they break the fourth wall, and address the audience. But it smacks of desperation, not wit. However, this doesn’t negate all the fun that has come before. While it comes off as tepid as a whole, School for Scoundrels is easy to enjoy as a series of vignettes.

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

Carlton-Browne of the F.O. (1959)

Sep 291959

Bumbling bureaucrat Cadogan Carlton-Browne (Terry-Thomas) is sent to the previously forgotten country of Gallardia to find out why the Americans and Soviets are suddenly interested in it. The new king (Ian Bannen) is in a struggle for power with Grand Duke Alexis (John Le Mesurier), and is not being aided by the illegal dealings of his Prime Minister (Peter Sellers). The incompetence of Carlton-Browne and his conservative superior, Foreign Secretary Tufton-Slade (Raymond Huntley), only make things far worse.

A pleasant satire of British self-importance and governmental ineptitude, Carlton-Browne of the F.O. takes a light tone, and with an added movie-style romance, secures itself a position squarely in the middle of British ‘50s comedy. It is a movie that takes few chances, so is rarely laugh-out-loud funny or meaningful, but it also rarely fails.

However, this is an assessment made forty-five year after its release (although one I also held when I first saw it over twenty years ago). In 1959, Carlton-Browne’s commentary on the folly of British colonialism and the inability to adjust to modern realities was thought to be biting. WWII was still remembered by most, and the days of the British Empire were not so distant. Many didn’t realize that England’s place in the world had changed, and more were anxious to ignore the fact. To them, this was an uncomfortable movie that rubbed salt in the wounds. Of course, a majority of English movie-goers weren’t concerned with such conservative silliness—of dreaming of a time that never really existed—so saw nothing to take personally. Without the social relevance, what we have is a farce, with a bit of romance.

The characters are all familiar. Terry-Thomas is at home as the clueless upper-class twit whose only concern upon being sent on a delicate diplomatic mission is that he’ll “miss Ascot.” Raymond Huntley once again takes on the role of the bombastic politician, repeating his performance from The Green Man. In that film, Alastair Sim’s assassin was more than happy to accept a contract on such a pompous windbag. In Carlton-Browne of the F.O., Tufton-Slade allows us to sympathize with Carlton-Browne, since he is every bit as incompetent and self-important as the title character, while also being nasty, one of the few bad traits Carlton-Browne doesn’t possess. Miles Malleson, who often appeared in films of the era as a befuddled third banana, plays…well, a befuddled third banana. Sellers plays a standard, greasy, corrupt, Southern European (in a country where everyone has a different accent). The characters and the actors have that comfortable old shoe feeling.

I’ve seen Carlton-Browne of the F.O. many times over the years, always enjoyed it, and rarely thought about it after it was over.

Originally released in the U.S. as Man in a Cocked Hat.

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

Our Man in Havana (1959)

Jul 261959

Wormold (Alec Guinness), an English vacuum cleaner salesman in Cuba, is propositioned by stiff-upper-lip spy Hawthorne (Noël Coward) to become an agent for Britain. Having no applicable skills, his friend Dr. Hasselbacher (Burl Ives) suggests he invent his reports, a suggestion he takes to heart. The heads of MI6 back in London (Ralph Richardson, Raymond Huntley, and Maurice Denham) are so impressed with his information that they send him a secretary (Maureen O’Hara). Now he must keep his secrets from her, his daughter, competing spies who take him seriously, and the local police captain (Ernie Kovacs).

Shot on location just after the Cuban revolution, but before it was clear what Castro’s alliances were, Our Man in Havana use the uncertainty and dangers of Batista’s rule as a background; the satire is pointed at bureaucracy and espionage, partly taken from what novelist and screenwriter Graham Green observed of actual spies during WWII. In a nutshell, spies and their political masters have no idea what they are doing.

Which defines Wormold. He’s a sad-sack who is just getting by selling vacuums and has no idea of what is going on around him. He’s likable as a man who wants to support is daughter, but he’s no hero and no intelligent agency would ever recruit him. But then intelligence is not on display in the intelligence agencies. It is the higher members of the organizations that get the lions share of the skewering.

This is a pitch-black comedy of a type rarely scene. In films such as Kind Hearts and Coronets, the murders always have a dash of humor. Not here. The deaths are taken quite seriously, and there is a background hum of tension that you’d expect from a humorless thriller. Kovacs’s police captain is generally pleasant, but there is no doubt that this man is a killer that the people in the streets rightly fear. His talk of torture is not done for laughs. Here and there the other characters have their funny moments, but most of the humor is in the general situation and from Coward, Richardson, Huntley, and Denham. This is a delicate balance to pull off, but Green and director Carol Reed (whose previous collaborations include The Third Man) and their skilled set of actors pull it off. It’s funny and emotional and meaningful and the tone shifts enhance that instead of distracting from it.

Our Man in Havana is fascinating from a historical perspective, enlightening, and a good time to watch. It is a favorite of mine and a must see film.

Guinness also appeared in the Post-War British Comedies Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), Last Holiday (1950), The Lavender Hill Mob (1951), The Man in the White Suit (1951), The Card (1952), The Captain’s Paradise (1953), The Ladykillers (1955), To Paris with Love (1955), Barnacle Bill (1957), The Horse’s Mouth (1958).

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Four Reels

Left Right and Centre (1959)

Jul 151959

Obnoxious TV personality Robert Wilcot (Ian Carmichael), the Conservative candidate in a by-election, becomes smitten with the Socialist candidate, Stella Stoker (Patricia Bredin). Their two parties try to keep them at each other’s throats, while Wilcot’s uncle, Lord Wilcot (Alastair Sim) uses the election to sell tickets to his amusement park.

The writing/producing/directing team of Launder and Gilat are responsible, one way or another, for many of the best Post-War British Comedies. Left Right and Centre is not one of those. It’s an uneasy mix of romcom at satire. Surprisingly it is the romantic part that doesn’t work. Carmichael, who is often the reason to see a ’50s British comedy, comes off as silly (which works for satire, but not for romance) while Bredin leaves little impression at all.

The political comedy is lightweight, choosing a general “politicians are bad” message instead of anything with teeth, but the gags work. Partly that’s due to the script, but mostly it’s due to the actors. Alastair Sim, in full imp mode, is the best thing about the film and turns his small part into a joyous romp. Luckily Richard Wattis (The Importance of Being Earnest, The Belles of St. Trinian’s) and Eric Barker (Blue Murder at St. Trinians, Carry On Sergeant) do get substantial screen time and they are a blast as conniving, unscrupulous bosses of opposing parties who team up. It’s not enough to make this a “must see” film, but it does turn it into an amusing diversion.

Lauder and Gilat’s films include The Happiest Days of Your Life (1950), Lady Godiva Rides Again (1951), Folly to Be Wise (1953), The Green Man (1956), The Smallest Show on Earth (1957), The Pure Hell of St Trinian’s (1960), and The Great St Trinian’s Train Robbery (1966)

Post-War British Comedy, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1959)

Apr 181959

The Baskerville family has been cursed for centuries by a hound from Hell due to the sadistic behavior of an ancestor. Recently, Sir Charles Baskerville had died of fright out on the moor. The grouchy Dr Mortimer (Francis De Wolff), a believer in the supernatural, requests the aid of Sherlock Holmes (Peter Cushing) and Dr. Watson (André Morell) to keep the newly arriving heir, Henry (Christopher Lee), safe. Holmes can’t leave London, but sends Watson to Baskerville manner. The only other residents of the house are the butler and housekeeper (John Le Mesurier, Helen Goss), but there are a few close neighbors besides Mortimer: driver Perkins (Sam Kydd), cruel farmer Stapleton (Ewen Solon) and his attractive daughter Cecile (Marla Landi), and the Bishop (Miles Malleson). And out on the moor is an escaped maniac.

I reviewed the famous 1939 Rathebone version of The Hound of the Baskervilles as an Old Dark House horror film. This version is certainly horror, but not an Old Dark House film. Gone is the skulking about in dim hallways, and the fearful nature of the building itself. Instead, in most ways it’s a traditional mystery adaptation, until it isn’t. Hammer films and director Terence Fisher kept the the basics of the story, swapping characters and squeezing Cecile into the mold of other Hammer Horror women (Hammer was a regressive studio in several ways, including their portrayal of women). The horror comes not from changes to the story but from specific shots, background elements, and throwaway lines and moments. Yes, the mist is rather dense, but it was in other versions too. But now there’s a focus on a deadly tarantula attack (really? A tarantula…), a sudden mine collapse, bright red blood on a stone (which in this fascinating world stays rich and wet hours after it hit the air—it’s still flowing so I guess the victim had taken a lot of anticoagulants), the sadism in the legend, and a body being mutilated in “a revolting sacrificial rite. ” Holmes also recites some very un-Holmes-like dialog: “There’s more evil here than I have ever encountered before” and “I am fighting evil!”

None of that’s bad (nor good), but it is gratuitous. Couldn’t they find a way to get blood into the film that actually fit into the plot? It’s fun, but in the same way the hot girls in high heels were fun in Queen of Outer Space—that is, existing purely because someone wants to see it. Well, I like blood too, as well as wild women and sadistic aristocrats. I just like them better when they can be integrated into the whole and not appear tacked on.

I always thought the casting was odd. Christopher Lee seems the obvious Holmes; sharp, intelligent, rude, and with a touch of cruelty were his specialty. And Cushing seems almost as natural for Henry as he excelled at proper aristocrats, though perhaps a bit too old. But maybe they felt Lee would be too on the nose as he looked like and has the bearing of Basal Rathbone. Cushing does a better than average job, though his Holmes is sometimes too calm and sometimes too excited. Certainly those strange pronouncements about evil don’t help. Lee, on the other hand, is wasted, as he often was by Hammer. Harry is a milquetoast role. There isn’t much there and Lee gives him only a bit of imperial demeanor. Harry is never a great part, but he works best when given some humor and humanity, so it looks like I’m back to wanting to swap the leads. Lee did get his shot at Holmes three years later in a German production, but his voice is dubbed.

Morell, on the other hand, seems perfectly cast. Instead of the friendly bumbler of Nigel Bruce, we have a reasonable and responsible sidekick who is believable as an ex-army officer. The best moments are of Holmes and Watson trading insights. The rest of the cast don’t live up to this level, but it’s a matter of script and direction. The characters don’t act in any sensible way, but rather behave just to fit Hammer’s idea of horror (except poor Miles Malleson, who I love in so many films but he’s lost here; he seems to be playing exactly the same character he did in The Importance of Being Earnest). There’s no reason for Mortimer to be contrary, and there’s a very good reason for Stapleton to be mildly pleasant, but that wouldn’t fit the kind of picture Hammer wanted.

I’ve seen many adaptations of the story and I like this one better than most. It’s on the cheap and tawdry side, but it isn’t boring.

Horror, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

House on Haunted Hill (1959)

Apr 111959

Vindictive millionaire Fredrick Loren (Vincent Price), and his unfaithful wife (Carol Ohmart), invite five strangers to a party at a haunted house. They are Watson Pritchard (Elisha Cook Jr.), who owns the house and believes in the ghosts, Ruth Bridgers (Julie Mitchum), a columnist with a gambling problem, Dr David Trent (Alan Marshal), a psychologist, Lance Schroeder (Richard Long), a test pilot, and Nora Manning (Carolyn Craig), a typist in Loren’s employ. If they stay through the night, each gets ten thousand dollars.

I wish I could have seen House On Haunted Hill as gimmick master William Castle first showed it. More skilled as a showman than as a director, his stunts including taking out well publicized “fright insurance” and electrifying theater seats to shock audience members when a monster attacked. For House On Haunted Hill, he introduced “Emergo,” which just meant an inflatable skeleton would fly over the audience. In a cheap, ’50s way, that had to be fun.

Without that, the film is lacking the carnival-ride thrills that it clearly was intended to have. There’s still a few good jump scares and some tense moments, but no one is going to be screaming over the big skeleton moment now. What it does have is Vincent Price in top form. He plays…well…Vincent Price. He’s charming, in a disdainful and mocking way. He did the same thing in dozens of other movies, and he always does it well. The rest of the cast pull off their parts, with Elisha Cook (of Maltese Falcon fame) and Carol Ohmart being the most memorable, but all are in Price’s shadow.

The story doesn’t stand up so well. Nora (Carolyn Craig) is one of the dimmest and weakest females in film. When she gets scared, she demands that Lance, who she just met, take her out of the house. When he doesn’t jump to it, she just stands there. Why doesn’t she just leave? And why doesn’t she move when a rope wraps around her legs? She never even considers that any of the ghostly effects could be faked (after being invited to a birthday party in a haunted house); instead, she screams at everything. The other characters aren’t much better as they separate whenever they have a chance. Isn’t there a rule about that? After they’ve separated multiple times for no reason, they actually choose to all split up (each to their own room). It’s only six hours. Why don’t they all sit in the living room together?

There’s also the whole issue of the pool of acid. Several people attempt to toss bodies in, which in every case would really mess things up for them, legally. What kind of plans do these people have?

Well, the plot was never intended to be the draw. Watching House On Haunted Hill is like visiting a Jaycee’s Halloween haunted house in that you know it’s all fake, and a lot of it looks s0-so at best, but in the right mood, it can be a good time. And like visiting that Halloween haunted house, my 3-Reel rating is meant to be for those surrounded by friends and with a beer in hand. Alone and sober, take a Reel off.

Back to Ghost Stories

Dark House, Ghost Stories, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

The Giant Behemoth (1959)

Feb 121959

A Cornish fisherman turns up dead with radiation burns, and overly enthusiastic scientist Steve Karnes (Gene Evans) is sure that a giant sea monster is responsible. With the aid of various government officials and scientists, he seeks to solve the mystery until the beast turns up and solves it for him. It is a radiation breathing dinosaur and it is headed toward London.

Eugène Laurie is the father of the radioactive giant monster genre. The Giant Behemoth is the second, and least, of his three entries, after the defining The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms (1953) and before Gorgo (1961).

Well, you can’t plagiarize yourself, which is what keeps Lourié in the clear as he’s basically remade The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms. The one remarkable change is location. England needed its own giant monster and now it had one (though it did better a few years later with Gorgo). Lourié makes good use of British locations, particularly the bleak, yet comfortable Cornish seaside. And the secondary British actors make a better show for themselves than the American ones had done. But the copy can’t compete with the original. He no longer had Ray Harryhausen to animate the creature. The Behemoth is a stop-motion monster, which gives it an edge over lesser puppet and suit-mation critters in other films, but it is greatly inferior to Harryhausen’s beast. The animation was rushed, and it looks it. Since the film plays it straight and even a bit depressing, it needed a monster that wouldn’t elicit giggles.

Steve Karnes doesn’t embarrass himself as the lead be he’s neither interesting nor fun and there is no love interest to distract from the routine mystery-solving. It’s odd in that the first fifteen minutes set up a Cornish fisherman and the daughter of the first victim to be our stars, and then abandons them. There were script rewrites, changing the monster from a blob to a dino; I wonder if that earlier draft had them as the leads.

In Britain it is known by the less repetitive title of Behemoth, The Sea Monster.

Giant Monsters, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

Horror of Dracula (1958)

Oct 091958

Vampire slayer Jonathan Harker (John Van Eyssen) journeys to Dracula’s castle, pretending to take a job as a librarian. He fails to destroy Count Dracula (Christopher Lee) who kills him, and then takes revenge on his fiancé, Lucy (Carol Marsh), and her family, Arthur and Mina Holmwood (Michael Gough, Melissa Stribling). Only Jonathan’s colleague, Doctor Van Helsing (Peter Cushing) can stop the vampire.

Monster movies had faded away in the late ’40s, to be replaced with horror tales of space aliens. In 1957, Hammer studios resurrected the Universal creatures with The Curse of Frankenstein. As surprised as everyone else with the extent of their success, they put Dracula into production, and a dynasty was born. Together, these films changed how horror was made. Gone was subtlety (well, Universal had tossed that out long before they were finished), meek sexless women, German Expressionism, and slow building tension; in were jump scares, pounding march music, buxom babes, and lush colors. Hammer set the tone for horror for the next twenty years, and that influence is still present today. 1950s audiences were stunned by Dracula (re-titled Horror of Dracula in the U.S. to avoid confusion with the Lugosi Dracula which still enjoyed occasional theatrical screenings), finally seeing red blood and fast-paced violence. There was an outcry against this near pornographic film (how much of a real outcry is up for debate) which now seems comical. There is no sex, nothing close to nudity, little violence, and the gore is reserved for a little ketchup-red, and completely unrealistic, blood. But it was a different time. To understand the history of cinematic horror, Horror of Dracula is a must see.

But if you aren’t in the mood for a film-studies class, Horror of Dracula doesn’t have much seduction left in it. In general, I don’t think of films aging poorly, but this is an exception. Its main draw was shock, and it isn’t shocking any more. Without that now-missing kick, you’re left with little of interest.

Even less faithful to the book than the other unfaithful adaptations, this one starts with vampire hunter Jonathan Harker popping into Castle Dracula, now placed in some wonderland Romania that is within a nights carriage ride of a very English city. He’s taken a job as a librarian for the count. Yes, the king of the undead, who has no servants, hires a librarian. Why? Except for a vague statement about having a lot of books, it isn’t explained. I’d hire a security guard first, especially for the crypt. Jonathan must have skipped Vampire 101 as it doesn’t occur to him that the voluptuous and over-acting babe that only comes out at night and lives with a vampire, might be a vampire herself. Either that, or he just likes hugging vampires. This, stupid-beyond-stupid move (hugging the girl) is necessary for the plot, and for no other reason. And he follows it with an act so mindless that even rabid fans of the film acknowledge it is problematic: with time running out before sunset, this vampire killer ignores Dracula and instead stakes the girl. Maybe, just maybe, it would be a good idea to kill the master of evil when you have the chance. Of course he might have deduced that Dracula is too dim to be a threat since he chose as his lair an unlocked crypt that allows the sun in. So, the entire story is based around one man acting as no one ever would. Not a good start.

The film then switches focus to Van Helsing, who says things like “Jonathan is dead, but I won’t tell you under what circumstances.” Why doesn’t Arthur Holmwood call the cops about this mysterious homicide and have Van Helsing jailed? This is just glossed over, with Mina saying that he’s a well respected doctor. Yeah, that would be enough for me if my family members turned up dead. Yup.

Since 1950s audiences weren’t assumed to know the rules of vampirism, we get to hear them, recited by a recording of Van Helsing as the good doctor listens. Is that the cleverest exposition method they could think of?

The characters’ actions and thoughts continue to function purely to keep the plot moving. In an odd piece of mental acrobatics, Van Helsing deduces that Dracula must be going “home” as soon as he finds that the vampire has grabbed Mina, stating it’s the only place he could go. Why? Dracula couldn’t have brought any more dirt to town (if that is the basis of the thought)?

The film isn’t aided by the scarcity of its title character, who only appears for a few minutes, and most of that time is spent running, often away from minimally threatening things, like Van Helsing. I guess it makes sense that he runs. We only see him grapple briefly with his bride, Jonathan, and Van Helsing, and the last of the three holds his own in a brawl. Dracula might look tough, but apparently he’s a wimp.

You can’t expect much in the way of effects in the 1950s, which is good as you don’t get them. Particularly painful is the sight of sunlight striking the count, as it seems to turn his head briefly into some kind of Muppet. It’s difficult to become too involved with any drama that involves a dust-Muppet.

On the positive side, Van Helsing is less holier-than-thou than normal and Cushing does a credible job. Lee makes a savage vampire. His snarls and uncontrolled violence are the high points of the film. Many Dracula films suffer from the xenophobia and class consciousness of the source material, making it difficult to side with the “good guys.” When the heroes are trying to keep out foreign influences and retain a passionless social order with well defined classes, I’m ready to join the dark side. But in this version, all the underlying social structure has been discarded, leaving a simpler good-Van Helsing vs. evil-Dracula dichotomy, making the inevitable end more satisfying.

I was amused to see that Gordon’s Gin was popular in the past as a bottle is sitting on the bar of the Germanic inn. But as the bottle is decidedly modern, I’m guessing it was transported to the past by Dracula’s evil powers.

The other Hammer Dracula films are: The Brides of Dracula (1960)—which lacked Dracula, Dracula, Prince of Darkness (1966), Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968), Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970), Scars of Dracula (1971), Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972), The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973), and The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires (1974).

Reviews, Vampires Tagged with: Two Reels

The Blob (1958)

Oct 081958

A meteorite hits in a wooded area near a “typical” 1950s town. It carried a small amorphous blob that attacks an old man’s hand and begins to dissolve it. Teenagers Steve Andrews (Steve McQueen) and Jane Martin (Aneta Corsaut) find the man and take him to the local doctor. The blob grows, devouring the old man, the doctor, and his nurse, but local police and parents refuse to believe.

As a film, there’s not much to like about The Blob, but as piece of history, it’s fascinating. The cinematic mistakes start with casting. The ’28 year old McQueen, in his first lead role, is ten years too old to play a high school student, particularly a “gee-shucks” high school student. At 25, Corsaut (best known as Helen Crump on The Andy Griffith Show) isn’t much better.

Characterizations are as bad as the casting. Steve Andrews, and the “kids” he meets drag racing around town, are the local bad boys, and you’ve never seen such a group of pure, angelic teens. These rebellious teens would fit in your average episode of Father Knows Best. Jane, is “the girl.” That’s it. She screams, she faints (yes, she faints), and she coos over a cute dog.

The plot is slow, forgetting about the monster for extended sections, and the dialog is ludicrous, with such statements as, “This little pebble’s been out there hot-roddin’ around the universe?” Everyone’s actions are ridiculous (the teens go door to door telling people to beware of the monster, and police think it’s odd that a bar is abandoned with an open cash register, but not important enough to do anything about).

The Blob is a combination of two films, a simplistic, empty, but fun, horror film, and a socially ignorant, teenage angst movie. While it is the first which makes it watchable, I doubt if anyone would remember it if not for the second. Hollywood had only recently discovered that teens buy movie tickets. After the success of several mainstream teen rebel pictures, I was a Teenage Werewolf (1957) took teen alienation into genre film. The Blob used the trappings (teen slang, fast cars), but its only insight into the teenage mind is that teens feel that no one listens to them. However, for a generation that hadn’t seen themselves represented on film, that was enough.

It also has a strange, boppy theme song: “Beware of The Blob, it creeps and leaps and glides and slides, across the floor.” Oh yeah.

Followed by Beware! The Blob (1957) and remade as The Blob (1988).

Aliens, Giant Monsters, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

1 2 … 99 100 101 102 103 … 133 134