Foster on Film – Page 89 – The Film Criticism of Matthew M. Foster

Blood From the Mummy’s Tomb (1971)

Nov 161971

Margaret Fuchs’s 21^st birthday nets her an impossibly huge ruby ring from her archaeologist father (Andrew Keir), and even more nightmares of ancient Egypt. She doesn’t yet know that she was born at the precise moment Professor Fuchs and his band of grave robbers recited the name of an ancient queen over said queen’s 3000 year old fresh as a daisy body. Grave robbers they are, academic standing aside, as each member of the expedition returned to England with secret treasures from the tomb which they hide, never telling a soul. Daddy Fuch’s prize was the entire body of the queen, which he keeps in the basement and gazes at with far too much affection considering his daughter is the spitting image of the dead woman. Margaret’s all around ‘70s dude boyfriend thinks the ring is a clue to what happened on that unreported dig, and starts investigating. His timing couldn’t be better when one-by-one the archaeologists turn up dead and the sinister Corbeck (James Villiers) offers his own kind of help.

Blood From The Mummy’s Tomb never manages to jell. It could be the film’s strange never-land of hip ‘70s mixed with Victorian London. Or its desire to be an exploitation flick (with long lingering shots over Valerie Leon’s prone body) without wanting to show any real skin. Or maybe its uncertainty over who the protagonist is or what character we should be following. It is a bit of a puzzle, since there are the makings of a good film, floating around, lost.

Perhaps the explanation might be in the often discussed curse on the film. Peter Cushing was set to play Julian Fuchs, but his wife took ill (and later died), so he left the production after a day. More damning, director Seth Holt died with a week of shooting left, leaving Michael Carreras to finish it off. That might explain the confused mishmash on screen, or maybe not, but it is a mishmash either way.

The title suggests an old school wrapped up mummy shambling about the place causing blood to flow, but there is none to be seen. Instead we get a very unwrapped Valerie Leon, looking beautiful, and most of the blood is her’s. A few thousand years of laying on a stone slab has not sealed the wound where her hand was cut off and it tends to spurt in a very un-artery kind of way from time to time. Rather than following the format of the previous Hammer “Mummy” films, Blood From the Mummy’s Tomb could be considered a sorceress story, and is based on the less than revered novel Jewel of the Seven Stars by Bram Stoker. It has made it to the screen four times.

With more focus, a protagonist we could care about (or maybe just a protagonist), and some consistency of tone, this could have been a strong horror film. With more flesh and blood, it could have been an enjoyable exploitation romp. As is, it isn’t clearly anything.

Hammer’s “Mummy cycle” include The Mummy (1959), The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb (1964), and The Mummy’s Shroud (1967).

Mummies, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Werewolf Versus the Vampire Woman (1971)

Oct 171971

Student researchers Elvira (Gaby Fuchs) and Genevieve (Barbara Capell) travel to the likely location of the tomb of the evil Countess Wandessa (Patty Shepard), who folktales peg as a vampire. When their car breaks down, they are taken in by Waldemar Daninsky (Paul Naschy), who is the only person around for twenty miles. He too wishes to find the tomb, as the Countess is said to have been buried with a silver cross which may be able to finally kill him and free him from his cursed existence as a werewolf. Things quickly go wrong as Wandessa awakens with a plan to summon Satan and gain vast power once the moon is full a second time. This sets up a battle between werewolf and vampire.

A little background: Paul Naschy (real name Jacinto Molina Alvarez) was the most important horror filmmaker in Europe, though he is almost unknown in the United States. As he repeatedly stated, Spain’s culture looks down upon any type of fantasy, particularly horror. There’s no history of fantastic literature, and horror films were unknown. At an early age Naschy saw Frankenstein Meets The Wolf Man and it made quite an impression. He starred in nearly 60 horror films, playing every monster you can name, and added writing, directing, and producing to his resume, almost single-handily creating horror cinema in his home country.

While low budget films, his features boasted sharp color—with rich red blood, and beautiful exteriors; an advantage of filming in Southern Europe is the prevalence of real castles and ancient ruins. He also sprinkled in a dab of nudity with a great deal more skill than Hammer, and a general feeling of fun.

He is best known as the cursed Polish werewolf Waldemar Daninsky that he played in twelve pictures. He identified with Daninsky, so it isn’t surprising that he made a heroic, brave, and strong, if someone sensitive, character. And with a mash-up as his inspiration, his werewolf generally fought one or more other monsters: vampires, the mummy, Frankenstein’s Monster, demons, Dr. Jykell, and even aliens. The films ignored continuity, with Daninsky sometimes being a modern man, sometimes a medieval knight, and being made into a werewolf in at least three different ways. He even remade his own movies.

The Werewolf Versus the Vampire Woman, also known as Walpurgis Night (the translated title), and for some reason, Werewolf Shadow, launched Naschy into the big league, or at least as big as Euro-horror got, and deservedly so. It’s a skillfully made, serious horror film that pays homage to the Universal monster films while moving into a new era. It embraces the bright colors, flowing blood, and eroticism of the Hammer films, without the reactionary philosophy and depression. Naschy, who wrote the screenplay under his real name, wanted to bring back the monster mash-up without the camp, and he nailed it. There’s no deep social commentary here; after all, the idea was to make a fun film that stretched the imagination. And it’s a good time.

The best werewolf movie in twenty years (and would be the best for another ten), The Werewolf Versus the Vampire Woman has the finest designed make-up since Lon Chaney Jr.’s (granted, there hadn’t been quality competition) and the vampires are spooky. There’s a wonderfully gothic feeling, with theatrical fog and slow motion used in abundance. Naschy makes an engaging monster, both sensitive and filled with machismo. He’s tortured and heroic, The girls (and vampires) are sexy, and the touches of nudity work with the blood to keep the audience’s pulses pounding. The portrayal of women is refreshing as they have personality and agency. American horror at the same time kept women purely in damsel-in-distress roles and we’d just gone through ten years of Hammer’s misogyny. Who’d have thought he-man Spain would do it better?

The romance is a bit rushed, but works if you considered it a fling, with Elvira and Waldemar tossed together with the emotions of having saved each other in different ways multiple times. Some of the plot elements are too covenant (cutting yourself when you happen to be hanging over the body of a vampire…), but the flaws are forgivable in a mash-up movie. I suspect some younger viewers might have a harder time with the effects and pacing, but if you are a fan of older horror, or European cult cinema, this one is a must see.

Note: I’ve viewed both the Spanish language and the English dubbed version (the newer one that has no trimmed scenes), and while I prefer the Spanish, the English dub isn’t as bad as such things usually are. Due to the similarities in the language, the lips sync up nicely (it isn’t like watching Japanese dubs) and the voice actors put in some effort. I find a majority of the English voices, including the female leads, the equal to the originals, and in several instances the dubbed readings work better for the emotional states of the characters. The only problem is the lead—Naschy is more vulnerable while the American actor gives Daninsky a manly-man take that doesn’t fit. And while generally the translation is exact, they do change the handy man, replacing his chatty dialog about the village with creepy talk about how people think he’s a murderer and how he likes Elvira’s hair. It changes his character completely.

Since this film did so well, it is the one Naschy film that is easy to find in an uncut form. Warning, there are several cut version roaming about that slice out nudity and violence, and several scenes for no apparent reason. Skip those and find a full version.

Foreign Language, Horror, Reviews, Vampires, Werewolves Tagged with: Three & 1/2 Reels

Bay of Blood (1971)

Oct 091971

Wheelchair-bound Countess Donati, the owner of an undeveloped bay, is murdered, and then the murderer is immediately murdered as well. Ruled a suicide, a group of unpleasant people all vie for ownership of the bay. They include an unscrupulous businessman (Chris Avram) and his secretary (Anna Maria Rosati), a daughter (Claudine Auger) and her husband (Luigi Pistilli), and an illegitimate son (Claudio Camaso). Living by the bay is also an obsessive bug collector and his fortune-telling wife. When four youths show up to party, it signals the beginning of a string of impalings, strangulations, and beheadings.

This is it folks. Forget about 1980’s Friday the 13th and 1978’s Halloween. Even 1974’s Black Christmas needs to be set aside. Horror veteran Mario Bava’s gore-fest Bay of Blood is the first true Slasher. It took those later films to get the movement going, but this is where it all began. While few Americans saw it in its initial run, the makers of Friday the 13th did, and it shows. Their own work can be politely called an homage, but the term “plagiarism” is more accurate, particularly for Friday the 13th Part II.

All the Slasher murders that became clichés in the ’80s are here. We have a couple speared while having sex. There’s the nude girl taking a swim, who comes out to have her neck slit with a machete. There’s the machete in the face (there’s just a lot of machete work). And I can’t forget the guy impaled so that he’s stuck against a tree. Add in a hand strangulation, a cord strangulation, a woman in a wheelchair being hung, several knifings, and a beheading, and you’ve got a majority of the death scenes in every Slasher made in the last twenty-five years.

Bay of Blood distinguishes itself in more ways than just being the first of its kind. Bava was a skilled director, and while I’d have liked to see a few less zoom-shots, this is one of the best made Slashers. It also has darkly comedic elements, something most of the others try for, but few get a handle on. I wouldn’t argue if someone wanted to classify this as a comedy. It just depends on if you think it is funny seeing an old woman breathing her last in time with the slowing wheels of her chair. Me? I laughed.

It is also unusual in its killers. There’s more than one (I won’t say how many), so we’re not just waiting for a single masked psycho to traipse out of the woods. This is a film with a very dim view of humanity. Most Slashers (particularly the teen ones) are inhabited by a group of “average” people, with about half being asses. The folks running about this bay are far from average, and they are much more than asses. Bava is suggesting that anyone can become a murderer with very little provocation.

Perhaps the most significant difference is that there are themes that can be mapped on to Bay of Blood. Face it, if you are trying to find meaning in Friday the 13th, you are wasting your time. But Bava appears to be making a socialist statement. Capitalism causes all of these people to act, and it has no conscience or mercy. In the economic world, you “cut” down your competition, or eventually, you’ll be the one sliced to ribbons. You get to see that metaphorically, in living color—blood red.

Making the message more complex, Bava has tossed in ecological concerns. I tried to ignore that (since I couldn’t believe a Slasher would have two themes), and stay with the economic analogy, but it kept popping up. Destroying nature destroys us. The bug collector goes to some pains to explain that you just don’t mess with mother nature. To bad these guys hadn’t worked out that this was not the right bay to do some major development. The ending, which is the biggest joke of the film, pushes home the idea that you need to preserve the environment.

Still, no matter how impressive Bay of Blood is as Slasher, it doesn’t look overwhelming when compared to more hardy competitions. The characters are thin and they act with insufficient motivation. The murders are not carried out with finesse, and it should be clear to everyone involved that they aren’t going to get away with killings that are so messy. The acting isn’t bad for the sub-genre, but that’s saying very little. Everyone is either stiff or over-the-top. The “teens” (they look around thirty) are painfully bad, and on several occasions appear to be confused on what they are supposed to be doing. I don’t speak Italian, so there is also the dubbing to contend with. Perhaps the actors did their most spectacular work with their voices, and it has been lost due to the dubbing. But I doubt it.

Gore hounds should be happy with the quantity of blood, but not the quality. No one would ever mistake the thin, bright, red liquid that flows everywhere for real human blood.

Bay of Blood is an enjoyable film, but nothing that needs to be repeated, or even searched out. It is a must-see for Slasher fans, and those are the only people that should bother picking up the DVD.

The film has gone by many names over the years, including: Bloodbath, Carnage, Chain Reaction, Last House on the Left Part II (although this movie came out first), The Ecology of a Crime, Twitch of the Death Nerve.

Bava also directed the engaging, but poorly titled ghost story, Kill, Baby… Kill!

Foreign Language, Reviews, Slashers Tagged with: Three Reels

Godzilla vs. Hedorah (1971)

Oct 081971

Dude. Dude. No dude, listen. OK, OK. Dude. This is soooo cool. You see, pollution…is bad. It really sucks dude. And it grows into a monster after this hot chick sings a go-go tune. She is soooo hot. Huh? Oh yeah, the monster dude, he like attacks some city and then starts toking up on some smokestacks. Toke on monster dude. There’s this little dude, like a dudette, except he’s not a chick. I think he’s not a chick. He’s wearing these really tight hot pants all the time, so maybe he wants to be a chick. Whoe. That like, changes the whole thing, you know. Well, the little chick dude, he can read the mind of a big gray lizard. So he knows the lizard hates pollution too. Righteous lizard dude! So the monster’s start fighting, and then there’s some cartoons. Really dude, cartoons. And some dancers have fish heads. Dude. It rocks. I really need a hit.

After a series of abysmal Godzilla films, it was time to do something different. But were trippy dancing, psychedelic backgrounds, and a pollution monster too different? Certainly for a serious monster film, but there hadn’t been anything serious about the Godzilla franchise for years. Nor had there been much that was fun. And Godzilla vs. Hedorah (Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster in the U.S.) does bring back the fun, just not the same kind of fun. It is background for a stoner’s afternoon.

On the downside, even if your humming Incense and Peppermint, is the ridicules look of Hedorah. He’s a glob of plastic in the form of a garbage pile with plush animal eyes glued on. You can’t smoke enough to make that work. The Godzilla suit is pretty silly as well, but next to Hedorah, the big lizard is sculpted by Michelangelo. There’s also the matter of Kenny. Many of the worst Japanese monster flicks have a Kenny. He’s a young boy who wears bizarrely tight short-shorts and has an unexplained link with the heroic monster. Here, the kid is actually named Ken, and you’ll need a lot of good weed to get his adoration of Godzilla out of your mind.

If you are properly high, you’ll be able to sit back and enjoy the hallucinogenic dance, with an undulating singer clad in a tan body suit and paint, where everyone suddenly has the head of a fish. You’ll be able to dig the multiple animated clips as well as Godzilla flying using his atomic breath as a rocket. And of course, you’ll be able to groove with the rock-fueled and drug-fueled love-fest on top of Mt. Fuji.

Yup, this is one weird movie. It all leads up to the castration scene. Yes, Godzilla rips out Hedorah’s testicles (just the way he’ll rip out the testicles of anyone who pollutes…). You just don’t see a lot of testicle grabbing, and then testicle igniting, in your average giant monster film.

Producer Tomoyuki Tanaka, who’d been out of touch during production due to illness, made the mistake of watching the finished film straight. He hated it, insisting that writer/director Yoshimitsu Banno had ruined the series. Come on. Once you’ve made Godzilla’s Revenge, there’s nothing left you can ruin.

Godzilla vs. Hedorah isn’t for anyone looking for exciting monster action or a babysitter for pre-school kids. But if you’ve picked up some acid, and some good Mexican pot, then toss this on and blow your mind.

Foreign Language, Godzilla, Reviews Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

Lady Frankenstein (1971)

Oct 081971

Baron Frankenstein (Joseph Cotten) and his assistant, Dr. Charles Marshall (Paul Muller), are finally ready to create a living creature from body parts, when Frankenstein’s daughter, Tania (Rosalba Neri, using the name Sara Bey), returns from medical school. More strong willed than expected, She plans to follow in her father’s footsteps. When the Baron’s creation runs amuck, Tania comes up with a plan to make her own creature, one that can kill the first one.

The ’70s marked the rapid decline of the gothic horror films that had dominated the previous decade. In the ’60s, England’s Hammer studio had made its mark with new versions of the Universal classics, and AIP had placed Vincent Price in a string of Poe-inspired movies. The third source for gothic films was Italy, where the subgenre was filled with incoherent, but richly textured, semi-erotic pictures. A late entry, Lady Frankenstein is a pretty standard example.

For the first third of its short running time, Lady Frankenstein feels like a Hammer film, with Cotten taking over the Peter Cushing role, and wondering the whole time how he went from Citizen Kane to this. The film is played seriously; there are no frights and little tension. It has the rich colors and frequent fog banks so common in the English gothic films. The acting isn’t bad, nor particularly good. The sets are low-budget, but functional. And I couldn’t think of a reason why the world needed another, slow, retelling of Frankenstein.

Things get much better, and much worse, once the Baron makes his monster. Since Karloff gave up the role, most designs for Frankenstein’s monster have ranged from atrocious to “my God, that isn’t seriously in a movie.” I’ve seen worse, but this big-headed, fake-eyed, mutant version is closer to the “my God…” end. This is a monster that should never have been filmed in bright light, yet he’s always popping up in daylight to kill naked girls who are lying about with clothed men. These scenes also appear washed out, as if no one adjusted the cameras after shooting the indoor scenes (don’t even think about color correction).

Continuing on the “much worse” side, the movie wastes large chunks of time on a police investigator that has no effect on the rest of the movie. He is prone to huge mental leaps. “Hey, there’s a big ugly guy killing people. I bet the graves are empty. Yup. I bet that Frankenstein guy, who is not known to work on humans, made a monster from corpses.”

On the “much better” side, the film switches its focus to Tania, who is the only interesting character in the film. You don’t see many female mad scientists, and she’s sympathetic, obsessive, and perverse. Playing the role is Rosalba Neri; beautiful and sexy, she is a far better actor than anyone else in the film (yes, that includes Cotten). If only the rest of the people involved with the project could have been at her level.

The movie’s high point is Tania’s seduction of a dull-witted servant. As she straddles him, her assistant strangles the hapless man to death, which she finds quite “exciting.” While much of the film can and should be missed, that’s one scene everyone should see.

Back to Mad Scientists

Foreign Language, Mad Scientists, Mad Scientists, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

Fiddler on the Roof (1971)

Oct 061971

Tevye (Topol) is a poor milkman in a tradition-bound Jewish village in early twentieth century Russia. As he and his neighbors attempt to ignore the ever-changing world, his three daughters, Tzeitel (Rosalind Harris), Hodel (Michele Marsh), and Chava (Neva Small), bring home just how much the old ways are fading as each makes her own match, each farther from what is expected than the last.

Made during the period when every musical film had to be an epic and widescreen shots of fields, mountains, rooftops and crowds were given as much attention as characters, Fiddler on the Roof is bloated and slow. It also has memorable songs, a message worth your time, and a complex and compelling situation. Yeah, it’s a mixed bag.

I’ve seen the musical performed by both professional troops and high school students. I also grew up with the Broadway cast album blasting away, to the extent that my father blasted anything. I know the story and songs inside out and upside down. And I’m not alone. Half of you reading this can sing Sunrise, Sunset, Matchmaker, and If I Were a Rich Man without flubbing a line. I have few complaints with the show, and this isn’t a disastrous stage-to-screen translation (see Brigadoon). But it isn’t a good one either.

Director Norman Jewison blew it. He decided that since the screen has more realism than the stage, that his Fiddler on the Roof would dump the fantasy for a more grim, everyday feel. It doesn’t work. It’s a questionable move with any musical since people suddenly break into song—not a common occurrence in reality. It’s worse with Fiddler, that includes time-stops, speeches to the viewer, an elaborate dream number, and a human representation of the struggles of life that sits on the roofs and…well, he fiddles. This is an artificial show; it isn’t supposed to be a documentary.

Having the actors recite the lines as actual people would strips all the humor out of a show that has quite a bit, and needs it. Early on, the rabbi is asked if their is a proper blessing for the Czar. He replies that there is: “May God bless and keep the Czar…far away from us!” It’s a joke, and it should be delivered as a standup comic would. Recited as your neighbor might (your average, uninteresting neighbor), it fizzles. Without the humor, the characters have fewer levels, and the story’s heaviness overwhelms. Fiddler on the Roof recounts tragic events, but it should not be a tragedy.

The realistic-take also slows down the dialog and adds unnecessary shots of mud and fields. Musicals are notoriously long. No film version should be longer than the show was on stage, and this movie is 181 minutes.

With all its failings, the movie is still enjoyable because its source is so good. But if you have the option, take in a stage performance, and instead of buying the DVD, pick up the CD of the Broadway cast album.

Musicals, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

The Mephisto Waltz (1971)

Oct 051971

Duncan Ely (Curt Jurgens), a renowned concert pianist, befriends failed musician Myles Clarkson (Alan Alda). While Clarkson bathes in the attention, the ailing Duncan and his daughter (Barbara Parkins) carry out a ritual that allows Duncan to possess Myles’s body when he dies. Afterward, Myles’s wife, Paula (Jacqueline Bisset), begins to notice changes in her husband.

While no doubt made due to the success of Rosemary’s Baby, The Mephisto Waltz owes more to a decade of witchcraft pictures, none of which required their script writers to know more about the Bible than that it is a book.

In a slow, somber way, The Mephisto Waltz is effective. It isn’t frightening, but does create an air of paranoia. The focus is on Bisset’s Paula, and how she deals with the mysterious events around her. During the too-long opening, it is hard to sympathize with her as she is suspicious of Duncan before there is reason. This has less to do with the story or the characters than a desire of the filmmakers to separate the classes. The rich are strange and not to be trusted. However, once her husband is replaced, the film works much better, following her as she tries to find a way out of a hopeless situation. And what she finds makes some of the slower moments worthwhile. There are no crosses or faith to save the day and her obsession rings true to anyone who has lost a loved one. This one gets points for avoiding the traditional climax.

The Mephisto Waltz does make it too easy to impersonate someone. Since the witches study Myles, it’s reasonable to assume that magic doesn’t help with unknown memories or behaviors. This becomes obvious when Duncan-Myles does not know a cute husband-wife phrase the two used to use. If that’s the case, the masquerade should be tripped up on discussions of family members and past events. We just have to hope that Myles didn’t use any combination locks. Such memory losses wouldn’t necessarily imply witchcraft, but I’d expect to see Myles under psychiatric care when it’s found he only has a cursory knowledge of his own life.

Certainly a flawed film (I could do without ever seeing another psychedelic, fisheye lens, dream sequence), Jurgens, Parkins, and Bisset, along with a non-standard ending, make this worth a rental.

Reviews, Witches Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

THX 1138 (1971)

Oct 041971

In the standard dystopian world where citizens are drugged to eliminate emotions, THX 1138 (Robert Duvall) and his roommate end up off of their required medication, able to feel, and on the run.

Looking like the stereotype, pretentious, self-indulgent, film-student film, THX 1138 takes the standard dystopian story and adds nothing. Nada. Not a thing. Most dystopian works stay pretty close to the standard, but bring something new, some small piece of additional insight. THX 1138 is only proof that the pre-Star Wars George Lucas had read Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Orwell’s 1984, and Huxley’s Brave New World. Well, I read them too, and might I suggest anyone who hasn’t spend his time with any one of those rather than THX 1138.

It’s not just that Lucas has regurgitated the same emotionless, sterile, bleak future that’s so common for filmmakers of the ’70s (and writers since the ’30s), but that he did it in a lethargic, unengaging way. I ought to feel something for the people of this world, but all I felt is boredom. It doesn’t help that little happens. The first third of the film is a slow (let me emphasis “slow”) realization by the title character that he should do something else. The second third just has THX 1138 sitting around in a white prison with a few other prisoners spouting philosophy. This is supposed to be clever and deep. It’s not. Lucas is repeating his “escape” theme for the mentally impaired who missed what the first third was about, and believes he’s hit on true brilliance. As there is no plot to enter into the viewers’ brains, it’s hard to imagine that anyone would miss the theme (unless they fell asleep). The final third is yet more escaping, but this time with a racecar. Yes, in this monotonous world where people trudge to work each day, there are racecars sitting in the parking lot that anyone can jump into and drive away. Hmmmmm. Who are these cars meant for? Racing commuters? And where did our “hero” learn to drive like a pro?

As this is a George Lucas movie, he felt the need to add in some up-to-date, digital effects. It’s been twenty years since I saw the unaltered version, so I didn’t notice most of his tinkering. However, the new mutant monkeys reached out of the screen to bite my eyeballs. While Lucas has many failings, I always thought he was quite talented with CGI. That was before the mutant monkeys. But why worry about how bad they look when there is the larger question of why they are there. Up till the moment they attacked, there was no reason to believe that mutant monkeys roamed the parking lots. Their appearance reminds me of the scene in Casablanca where Rick must seat the Nazis away from the two-headed, Martian lesbians. You don’t remember the two-headed, Martian lesbians in Casablanca? Wait till Lucas gets through with it. Seeing them would be no more jolting than those monkeys.

In defense of this tripe…I mean the film, the public service broadcasts were pretty funny, particularly the announcement that they had half the number of deaths of another department, so “keep up the good work.”

THX 1138 destroyed Francis Ford Coppola’s experimental American Zoetrope film group. Once Warner Bros saw this dismal film, they pulled their funding. Sometimes, the big corporation gets it right.

Dystopia, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

The Tragedy of Macbeth (1971)

Oct 031971

Macbeth (Jon Finch), a brave Scottish noble, kills the king after hearing a prophecy from three witches that he will be king. His ambition is his flaw, and it eventually destroys him and his even more ambitious wife (Francesca Annis).

Quick Review: The best screen adaptation of Shakespeare, this tale of sound and fury is filled with blood, cruelty, and even occasional nudity. Shakespeare would have been thrilled.

Macbeth is the best and the brightest man in Scotland. He is strong, smart, and caring while others are simpering and ignorant. And that makes his fall so interesting. Jon Finch’s performance is perfect, a little naive at the beginning and filled with hate at the end. Roman Polanski makes the images as dark as the story; it is often claimed that the violence and existential focus of this version comes from Polanski’s loss of his wife, Sharon Tate, to the Manson family just two years earlier. Perhaps. The darkness fits.

Reviews, Shakespeare Tagged with: Five Reels

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

Oct 021971

In 1929, the eccentric Dr. Anton Phibes (Vincent Price), mutilated in an accident and now wearing an elaborate false face, seeks revenge on the medical team who failed to save his wife. With the help of the beautiful and silent Vulnavia (Virginia North), Phibes carries out elaborate murders, modeled after the ancient plagues on Egypt. Inspector Trout (Peter Jeffrey), the most competent of the seriously incompetent police, finds that the deaths are connected to surgeon Dr. Vesalius (Joseph Cotten) and works to save him and the team that worked with him.

If you want your horror films to start with a guy in a store-bought mask chasing a teenager through the woods, The Abominable Dr. Phibes is not for you. However, if a weirdly madeup, hooded Vincent Price playing the organ and then directing a clockwork jazz band is your cup of tea, you’re going to love it.

This vivid, art-deco horror-comedy may not be frightening, but it is bizarre and funny, often at the same time. Between murders, Phibes dances with his assistant, Vulnavia, or sips champagne by pouring it into an unseen slot in his neck. To talk, he plugs a cord from his throat into a speaker. As most of his face can’t move (it’s supposed to be a mask), Phibes must express anger, longing, and amusement with his eyes and stance. Most actors would fail in the attempt, but the greatly underestimated Price pulls it off perfectly.

Vulnavia is a whole extra layer of odd. She never speaks, changes from one extravagant gown to another (some with headpieces normally seen on Los Vegas showgirls), and is given no background or motivation. This isn’t a criticism, as it adds to the surrealistic feeling. She even plays the violin at the murders. Plus, her name is Vulnavia. Say that three times quickly.

While Price is given most of the credit for the success of the film, Peter Jeffrey could be considered the lead as his Inspector Trout has more screen time and many more lines than Phibes. And he is equally good. The police investigation plays out like a post-war British film comedy, with the not-so-bright Trout squeezed between his ineffectual underlings (who don’t even know to look up the address of a potential victim) and mindless superiors, who keep saying that there’s nothing going on as doctors die all the time (I never knew what a dangerous profession it was). The funniest moment in the film comes after a man is killed by a catapulted unicorn head (yes, I wrote “a catapulted unicorn head”) that impales him to a wall. The police then put their brains to work figuring out how to get the body free. It would be unfair for me to give away their method, but we’re in Monty Python territory.

Joseph Cotten is the only one who plays it straight, and that works for the picture as Vesalius is the lone sympathetic victim. In all other cases, I was cheering for Phibes. Not that there is anything evil about the others, but their sole function is to be killed. The only other victim I even notice is played by screen comic Terry-Thomas. His doctor has a fondness for alcohol and tame, hand cranked, stag films. When the sublime Vulnavia shows up, he goes willingly; who wouldn’t?

While the sets are fascinatingly flamboyant, the dialog is clever, and the cinematography is a vibrant dream, the actual killings are nothing special. The idea of the plague-based murders keeps you guessing how Phibes will pull of the next, but most are too improbable to have been part of an ingenious plan (one only works because the victim took the most powerful sleeping pill I’ve ever heard of). Then there are the plagues of animals. The second murder is carried out by…fruit bats. Yes, the poor victim is shredded by flying foxes. Have you ever seen a flying fox? “Horrifying” is not the word that comes to mind. “Cute” is the proper description. Instead of killing anyone, they look more like they are ready to snuggle. The only reason they’d be climbing on anyone is to search his pockets for grapes. Even if these large, cuddly, vegetarians were somehow killers, the dozen or so that are tossed into the victim’s room would hardly be dangerous to anyone who is capable of walking away. Later, a victim is viciously attacked by rats. Six or so, fluffy, perfectly clean, gentle looking rats. Only three of them even climb on the guy. Oh the horror, a small rodent who’s obviously been hand raised and well cared for is moving slowly at my feet! How will I survive? Still, these flaws didn’t bother me much, particularly as the fuzzy flying foxes were one of the few parts of the film my wife (who isn’t a big horror fan) enjoyed. The only true misstep is the climax of Vulnavia’s story, which is out-of-step with the tone of the film.

The Abominable Dr. Phibes has weathered the years well. I enjoyed it thirty years ago and I enjoy it as much now. Time has no power over anything this elegantly outlandish.

Artists, Mad Scientists, Mad Scientists, Reviews Tagged with: Four Reels

Night of Dark Shadows (1971)

Aug 281971

Quentin Collins (David Selby) and his young wife Tracy (Kate Jackson) have just inherited the sprawling gothic estate of Collinwood, complete with weird housekeeper, Carlotta (Grayson Hall). Quentin starts getting strange dreams, seeing things, and begins to stare off into nothing. He just might be the reincarnation of Charles Collins. Years ago Charles’s lover and sister-in-law, Angelique Collins, was hung as a witch and her spirit wants to bring Charles back.

Light piano music. Staring. More light piano music (with harmonica). More staring. A dream. Tense music. More staring. Light piano music. A violent outburst. Light piano music. Staring.

That’s about it for an hour and a half. If you like light piano music and staring, then this is your film. If not, you are going to be bored. The acting isn’t great, the cinematography is low rent, and the editing is jerky, but those would only be problems if there was something other than the inappropriate piano music and staring.

Poor Kate Jackson gets stuck with the victim-wife role. She looks frightened a lot and asks, “What’s wrong?” She also is very forgiving of occasionally being strangled. Then there are a pair of friends who just happen to move in next door. They also ask if something is wrong, because that question can never be asked too often.

The film is the second spin-off feature from the Gothic soap opera, Dark Shadows. While the first, House of Dark Shadows, was more or less a retelling of seasons 2 & 3 of the series, Night of Dark Shadows has a more tenuous connection. Characters have been changed around: Quentin was a werewolf in the show and Angelique’s storyline had to do with the vampire Barnabas Collins, who is absent from this film.

Forty minutes of the finished film was cut at the insistence of the studio, with the director given only one day to complete the work. Dark Shadows fan have valiantly claimed that if only that footage was returned than the film would become at least watchable. But no. The cuts might be responsible for the jumps and sudden breaks in the soundtrack, but it makes sense as is, and no one needs another scene of staring. The film plods along in its current form. The last thing it needs is to be longer.

Ghost Stories, Reviews, Witches Tagged with: One Reel

Gamera vs Zigra (1971)

Apr 201971

Two children—this time a boy and a girl, who are younger than in previous films—are kidnapped along with their astoundingly stupid fathers by aliens who plan to takeover the world with their earthquake machine and then live in the oceans. The kids outsmart the alien woman and return to Earth. Will Gamera defeat the aliens? Will the kids be crucial in reviving Gamera? Will this be the dumbest movie in the franchise? All will be revealed, unfortunately.

While the previous four films had been juvenile and primitive, this one is those things topped with being frustrating. It goes on and on with the spacegirl chasing our too-young-for-film children. They go down corridors, in and out of doors, down more corridors, up some stairs, across the plaza, etc. But then no one was even pretending to try in this production. This was the last of the regular Showa films. The company was in shambles and no one had any ideas. The alien spaceship is a gumball machine and the evil monster is a stiff-looking model shark. Much of the third act is a dozen people huddled together around a screen in a very small room. What very little monster action we get is not worth seeing. At least Gamera trying to sneak up on the sleeping shark should have been funny, but it isn’t. Partly that’s because Gamera vs Zigra wants to be taken seriously and pretend that the children are in real danger. Plus it dumps a theme on top: Pollution is bad. Pollution was becoming a popular subject for Japanese monster movies and this was Gamera’s ham-fisted shot at the theme. It works as well as everything else in the film.

Outside of the cute spacegirl who puts on a bikini, and Gamera playing his theme song with a rock on the shark’s back like a xylophone, Gamera vs Zigra doesn’t even work at a drunken party. Choose a different one and let this be forgotten.

Foreign Language, Giant Monsters, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

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