Tim Lucas / Video WatchBlog: March 2021

Tuesday, March 30, 2021

A Better Look at THE BLANCHEVILLE MONSTER

If you've only seen "Martin Herbert's" [Alberto de Martino's] HORROR in its English version known as THE BLANCHEVILLE MONSTER, then you've only ever seen it from a dullish, cropped 16mm source. Here in the USA, it was released directly to television by AIP-TV and never shown on a big screen.

Now follow the above link and take a look at this complete 35mm HD Italian version and realize how cheated we've been all these years. Sorry, no English subtitles - but consider this a visual treat. If you're short on time, go directly to the sequence starting at 33:50. This film was photographed by the talented Alejandro Ulluoa (THE DIABOLICAL DR Z) and lensed partly in Madrid. Those of you who know your way around Spanish horror are bound to recognize the exterior location in this particular sequence.

(c) 2021 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.

Subscribe to Tim Lucas / Video WatchBlog by Email

If you enjoy Video WatchBlog, your kind support will help to ensure its continued frequency and broader reach of coverage.

Cast Your Ballot for the 19th Annual Rondo Awards!

I'm a bit derelict in noting this, but this year's Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Awards nominations were announced a few weeks back. There is still plenty of time to vote and to catch up on your viewing before you cast your ballots.

I've been nominated for Favorite Commentator and Video WatchBlog is among the nominees for Best Website. There is also one other nomination I'm particularly excited about: the alternate edit of Robert Florey's MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE that I first proposed in VIDEO WATCHDOG #111, which Gary L. Prange subsequently fine-tuned, has been nominated for Best Blu-ray/DVD Extra as part of the Eureka!/Masters of Cinema three-disc release THREE EDGAR ALLAN POE ADAPTATIONS. When I wrote my initial article, I rearranged the order of the film's scenes entirely in my head, without actually cutting anything together, so I was as impressed as anybody when I saw the final result, especially in the film's current revelatory 1080p presentation. It would be such a treat were it to win the category... but it's a UK import release and not even formally acknowledged as bonus content, so it's not the most convenient of nominees to formally check out. But if you own the set and were unaware of this treasure, you can find the alternate cut by highlighting "Still Gallery" on the main menu and then clicking Arrow Left to the film's title. You'll be glad you did!

I'm sure Gary and I (and our friends at Eureka!) would be honored to receive your vote in this, as would I for either of the other two nominations, or even the write-in categories, if you think me deserving. There is such a lot of worthy talent on this year's ballot.

If you're ready to cast your votes or just want to check out the nominees, follow this highlighted link to rondoaward.com and look over the ballot. Then, when you're ready, follow the directions. Rondo maestro David Colton will be accepting votes (and even changes of votes) until Sunday night at 12:00 am Midnight, 25 April.

Monday, March 29, 2021

Revisited THE DAKOTAS, Wish You Were Here

Guest "Star Turn" Column

by LARRY BLAMIRE

On impulse, I just revisited the short-lived western series THE DAKOTAS for the first time since Warner Archive released it in 2015. For a show that I regard so highly, I sure took the long way getting back to it. Perhaps it’s that frustration of something so exceptional having so brief a life. I wanted to see if I felt as strongly about it as I did back then, when I brazenly declared it My Single Favorite Western Series Of All Time.

Surprisingly, I’d written/posted almost nothing about it. I guess I was looking for a way to put into words exactly why I love the dang thing so much. Was I honestly placing it above such cherished titles as GUNSMOKE, CIMARRON STRIP, HAVE GUN WILL TRAVEL, THE RIFLEMAN, THE WESTERNER, even my more obscure favorites like OUTLAWS (1960) and THE OUTCASTS (1968)? Or was this just a kneejerk call, fresh off the viewing? You know, your “favorite of the moment.” What was it about this show?

The fact that it was released on DVD at all is a miracle. It has no movie star lead, no Warners breakout player like James Garner or Clint Walker. Didn’t even last a full season (brutally yanked after 20 episodes). For the show’s small but passionate fanbase, the Warner Archive release is something to be grateful for, as I try to remind myself.

I’d love to chat with William T. Orr, the legendary honcho who carved out classic Warners TV, but he’s no longer with us. I can’t help but think this was something special for the executive producer who liked to draw from literary sources (never more apparent than here).

THE DAKOTAS is unlike any other classic television western. It’s hard to imagine ABC/Warners replacing the ailing CHEYENNE mid-season with something so dark, so complex, so challenging. This, just over the crest of a massive TV oater wave that included Warners’ own stable of one-hours, CHEYENNE, MAVERICK, SUGARFOOT and BRONCO.

Was Orr reaching for something more adult? Something closer to gutsy cerebral powerhouses like NAKED CITY or THE DEFENDERS? As odd as it may sound, THE DAKOTAS bears more kin to those contemporary dramas than to its fellow westerns. Its moody heightened realism feels genuine in the way that ROUTE 66 and MR. NOVAK feel genuine; profound affecting stories told with literate elevated dialogue that lifts the proceedings onto a larger stage. These are far from action-packed. Violence is sparse, usually sudden, always impactful. So impactful that public outcry got it cancelled in the space of a single week, to be swallowed up in obscurity just as quickly.

THE DAKOTAS is set, as one might guess, in the Dakota Territories and concerns four United States marshals tasked with policing a vast region that’s presented as harsh and unforgiving. Unlike other TV lawmen, Marshal Frank Ragan (Larry Ward) and deputy-marshals J.D. Smith (Jack Elam), Del Stark (Chad Everett) and Vance Porter (Michael Greene) have no home base, no Dodge City or Tombstone. They show up where needed, usually right in the middle of a powderkeg with a fast fuse. Episodes have tantalizing place-name titles, like “Trouble at French Creek,” “Crisis at High Banjo” and “Requiem at Dancer’s Hill.” Almost all of the shows feature all four protagonists, with focus slightly shifting among them. One of the show’s strengths is the notion of team effort, but a team that seldom sees eye-to-eye; these boys are human and flawed—often a source of intense conflict. An early episode has an argument between Ragan and Smith that goes on and on, growing surprisingly heated, and as I listened I realized neither of them was right. And both of them were.

This is something important at the heart of THE DAKOTAS. Black hats and white hats are not so easily identified. Things are generally gray. Moral ambiguity is the lifeblood, complexity the color, trickling right down to every supporting character. Every one of them has life, history. If Shakespeare wrote a western show this would be it. Its dialogue is terse yet poetic; everyday speech elevated to grand scale. Maybe that was too much for some viewers. Me? My ears get a contact high. There are a dozen quotable lines per show.

THE DAKOTAS was not a spinoff of CHEYENNE, but its pilot, “A Man Called Ragan,” was dropped into the latter’s schedule as a test run. In that first episode, adapted from a novel by Harry Whittington, Ragan wears an eyepatch (eliminated in the series). While it does act as an origin story, it doesn’t feel like one, as the characters (none of whom are acquainted) are entirely immersed in the central conflict. The town Ragan enters is dusty and perpetually windy, with a grim mood you can cut with a knife (I mean, the first person we see is Lee Van Cleef for gosh sakes). Director of photography Bert Glennon shoots it like a movie, with beautiful sharp black shadows (impressively, this movie look prevailed throughout the series, with Glennon and later Harold Stine). “A Man Called Ragan” is a powerful introduction, preparing us for the dramatic labyrinths to come.

When THE DAKOTAS abruptly ended in May 1963 it was in response to a scene in “Sanctuary at Crystal Springs” where Smith and Stark rush into a church and gun down two killers, with a minister shot in the process. While that’s been cited as the trigger, it should also be noted that the series struggled in a virtually impossible time slot (7:30, Monday night) against some beloved hits. I also wouldn’t be surprised if budgets were a factor, given the detailed sets and art direction (incredibly, every town they go to looks different), name guest stars, large supporting casts and abundance of extras (all these towns are peopled!). What I cannot agree with, however, is the notion advanced by some that the lead actor was not compelling enough. That could not be farther from the truth.

THE DAKOTAS star Larry Ward.

Larry Ward (1915-1985) was a writer (he cowrote “The Little Man Who Was There” episode of ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS) and playwright (produced in New York and London) who had also acted in a 50s soap, as well as on stage. As the story goes, he was discussing a script with producer Jules Schermer who thought him just right for a role in the Warner Brothers series “Lawman.” This led to him winning the lead in THE DAKOTAS.

It may be that some find his Marshal Frank Ragan a bit too brittle, somewhat lacking in charm. That’s exactly what I love about his performance. His Ragan is a relentless professional hard-ass, a rigid taskmaster who expects too much of everybody, including himself. He lives for the law. Until it doesn’t suit him. Then he hammers it into his own image. Thus, he’s at once more rigid than Marshal Matt Dillon, yet more likely to take liberties. This gives Ragan a tough unpredictability, darker than his contemporaries. Larry Ward bites off dialogue like pieces of metal; steely conviction backed by superior intelligence. And boy is he given some choice cuts. When someone tells Ragan he can’t stop a whole town, he promises, “I’ll stop the first six.”

On occasions when his character makes a late entrance there’s an expectation, a kind of “Uh-oh, what’ll Frank do?” that is really kind of infectious, like a predatory fish dropped into an unruly aquarium. One episode has Ragan and Smith appear out of the night in black rain slickers, accompanied by thunder and lightning; two avenging angels come to right things. Which leads us to someone even darker than Ragan.

Jack Elam as J.D. Smith.

J.D. Smith is the show’s dark prince, the devil on Marshal Ragan’s shoulder. I believe Jack Elam’s portrayal to be television’s first antihero. I’ve said it before, but had this series lasted two or three seasons Elam may have been the next western bad guy character actor breakout star, in the manner of James Coburn, Warren Oates and Lee Van Cleef. If you haven’t seen Jack Elam charismatically handling a complex series lead like it’s no big deal, then you are in for a treat.

J.D.'s introduction in the show's pilot episode.

In the pilot, J.D. Smith is a veteran gun-for-hire with a formidable reputation. His entrance is electrifying. Just as his name is spoken, CUT TO hawk screeching in foreground and J.D. appearing on horseback over background ridge. If the bird had a walkie it couldn’t have been better timed. His transformation to lawman is subtle and believable. Partly, I suppose, because he never really turns, not completely. That conflict lingers within this errant preacher’s son to become the source of some of the series’ best tension. And grim humor, sardonically delivered as only Elam can. It’s a great character, brilliantly portrayed. His interplay with Ward is some of the finest on television.

Chad Everett as Del Stark.

In some ways Chad Everett’s Del Stark is the angel opposite Smith’s devil. But, sophisticated series that it is, such is overly simplistic. This was a breakout role for Everett, who comes off impressively and earnestly as a struggling young idealist who’s his own worst enemy. As Smith amusingly put it, “That’s the trouble with arguing with Del. Even when he’s wrong he’s right.” Everett’s work here is untarnished and impressive.

Michael Greene's Vance Porter.

Finally, Michael Greene’s Vance Porter acts as a kind of laid-back buffer, the most generally easygoing of the four. But, on a show where nothing is simple, he’s also an impulsive bull in a china shop, a 6’ 5” volcano all too quick to rush in, and failed former sheriff just back from the bottle. Greene (until recently, the last cast member still with us) gave Porter a distinctly engaging quality that makes him a nice contrast to the others.

Jeanne Cooper, flintier than Miss Kitty, in the series pilot.

I can only imagine that guest stars were drawn to this choice material. They certainly made the most of it. Mercedes McCambridge, Telly Savalas, Everett Sloane, George Macready, David Brian…. Hands down, the best performance I’ve ever seen from Ed Nelson. One of the best I’ve seen from Beverly Garland. Same with Royal Dano. And Corey Allen. And Audrey Dalton. And Strother Martin. Affecting turns by Diane Brewster and Sue Randall. Welcome familiar faces, Colleen Gray, DeForest Kelley, Andrew Duggan, Richard Loo, Whit Bissell, Jeanne Cooper, Elisha Cook, Jr. and so on.

Claude Akins, Richard Loo, and Beverly Garland guest.

The show’s vigorous, ridiculously catchy theme music was composed by William Lava. Action scenes are staged with imagination and propulsive energy. Direction is uniformly sparkling: Richard Sarafian, Robert Totten, Charles Rondeau, quite a few from Stuart Heisler. Same with the writers: Cy Chermak, E.M. Parsons, Peter Germano, Dean Riesner to name a few. Speaking of writing….

Diane Brewster guests.

One of the interesting things about the structure is that every episode begins in the middle. It’s a brilliant device. All that history—the events leading up to the current situation—that’s already happened. So, when the marshals ride in, the cauldron’s starting to boil. All parts are in motion. Familiar TV western tropes—powerful rancher gripping town in fear, lawman past his prime, range war—are deftly twisted into fresh new shapes and, suddenly, it’s hard to know what to expect. I watched these just six years ago and there were still moments that hit like a punch in the gut. Which leads us back to that fateful next-to-last episode “Sanctuary at Crystal Springs,” the one that ended it all.

Had the viewers outraged at violence on their television screens taken the time to watch it all the way through, perhaps they would have understood that the subsequent moral (and spiritual) struggle was riding on the very scene they objected to. It was the whole point. In a way, THE DAKOTAS depended on the intelligence of its audience. It respected them and never condescended. Maybe folks missed it. Maybe they didn’t want to see it. Thus, the ax.

What we’re left with is twenty pieces of gold; twenty examples of the TV western at its finest. Not a dud in the bunch, all very good to great, with several outright masterpieces. “Sanctuary at Crystal Springs” is one of the finest hours of any genre, from any period, with an unflinching script by Cy Chermak, inspired direction by Richard Sarafian (VANISHING POINT, MAN IN THE WILDERNESS) and intense performances by James Anderson and Les Tremayne, as well as, of course, the regulars, particularly Elam and Everett.

There was supposedly one more episode completed, “Black Gold,” but unfortunately it did not show up in the Warner Archive release, and no credits exist online. If it’s around, if it does turn up, I’d jump at the chance to buy it as a standalone. Unlikely. But a fellow can hope.

(c) 2021 by Larry Blamire. All rights reserved by the Author.

Subscribe to Tim Lucas / Video WatchBlog by Email

If you enjoy Video WatchBlog, your kind support will help to ensure its continued frequency and broader reach of coverage.

Friday, March 26, 2021

Updating My Audio Commentary List

I've been receiving requests for an updating of my Audio Commentaries list. I used to be able to direct people to the Notes department of my Facebook page, which was public, but FB recently took our Notes pages away from us in one of their irregular "improvements" of their service... so I thought I should share a list of my most recent work here:

2019

85. Four Times That Night (Kino Lorber)

86. Vampire gegen Herakles (Koch Media - Germany)

87. Knives of the Avenger (Kino Lorber) - new revised recording with excerpts from Cameron Mitchell interview

88. For A Few Dollars More (Kino Lorber)

89. Scream and Scream Again (Kino Lorber)

90. The Beast with a Million Eyes (Scorpion Releasing)

91. The Possessed (Arrow Video) Winner of 2019 Il Cinema Ritravato DVD Award for Best DVD Extras

92. Whirlpool (Arrow Video - BLOOD HUNGER: THE FILMS OF JOSE LARRAZ box set)

93. Dead of Night (1946; Kino Lorber)

94. Double Face (Arrow Video)

95. Fantomas (1964, Kino Lorber)

96. Attack of the Robots (Redemption/Kino Lorber)

97. Lost Highway (Kino Lorber, withdrawn)

98. Alphaville (Kino Lorber)

99. Last Year at Marienbad (Kino Lorber)

100. Macabre Visions: The Films of Mario Bava (Arrow Video, UK only - nine films, nine previously released commentaries)

101. Blackmail (1929 sound version, Kino Lorber)

102. Man of a Thousand Faces (Arrow Video)

103. The Magic Sword (Kino Lorber) Nominated for 2020 Saturn Award for Best Blu-ray/DVD Release.

2020

104. The Flesh and the Fiends (Kino Lorber)

105. The Golem (with bonus short commentary; 1920, Kino Lorber)

106. The Outer Limits – The Complete Series (exclusive commentary for “The Hundred Days of the Dragon,” Via Vision, Australia only)

107. Cannibal Apocalypse (Kino Lorber)

108. Brighton Rock (1948, Kino Lorber)

109. Supernatural (1933, Kino Lorber)

110. Secret Ceremony (Kino Lorber)

111. The Balcony (Kino Lorber)

112. TITLE CANCELLED (Arrow Video, withdrawn)

113. Hercules In the Haunted World (Kino Lorber) Same as 86. Nominated for 2020 Saturn Award for Best Blu-ray/DVD Release

114. Ulysses (1954, Kino Lorber)

115. The Chalk Garden (Kino Lorber)

116. Danger: Diabolik (Via Vision, Australia only)

117. The Wonders of Aladdin (Kino Lorber)

118. Play Misty For Me (Kino Lorber)

2021

119. Hercules and the Captive Women (Film Detective, forthcoming)

120. The President’s Analyst (Via Vision/Imprint, forthcoming)

121. The Night of the Following Day (Kino Lorber, forthcoming)

122. Playing With Fire (Cult Epics, forthcoming)

123. The Phantom Speaks (Via Vision/Imprint, forthcoming)

124. Valley of the Zombies (Via Vision/Imprint, forthcoming)

I'm sure there have been additional releases of my commentaries for the Bava films in territories around the world of which I've not been notified. So the list is not definitive but it does acknowledge each commentary I have done. There are murmurs and rumors that Commentary #112 may be released through Arrow after all, but when is not yet known.

Additionally, I also wrote a substantial essay, "Aleksandr Ptushko: Honest Tales of Bygone Days" for the booklet included in Eureka's new "Masters of Cinema" release of the 1967 Soviet horror film, VIY. I'm particularly proud of this, the most substantial piece of writing I've ever done on Ptushko and possibly the most comprehensive to appear in English since Alan Upchurch's coverage of Russkaya Fantastyka for VIDEO WATCHDOG #s 8 and 9.

I'm presently writing an essay for Eureka's forthcoming release of Robert Weine's silent classic THE HANDS OF ORLAC (1920), for which I'm delving into the highly rewarding writings of the unjustly neglected French author Maurice Renard. When I finish that, I'm looking ahead to many months worth of work on various assignments, including three major films (somewhat intimidating assignments), a few horror and fantasy classics you've probably already acquired but should buy once again, and then some single episodes of two very important scary television series close to your heart.

Monday, March 15, 2021

Joe Sarno at 100

Joe Sarno poses with wife Peggy Steffans for a promotional photo.

It’s the JOE SARNO CENTENARY! That's right: Joseph W. Sarno, who revolutionized the Adults Only movie market by taking it above and beyond nudist colony romps and adolescent daydreams about X-ray vision, was born 100 years ago today, on March 15, 1921. In another month or so, it will be 11 years since his passing on April 26, 2010.

As you may have heard, I’m dedicating all of my free time to preparing a book about Joe's mind-boggling filmography, which includes such titles as SIN IN THE SUBURBS (1964), MOONLIGHTING WIVES (1965), INGA (1967), YOUNG PLAYTHINGS (1971) and ABIGAIL LESLIE'S BACK IN TOWN (1974). The IMDb credits him with 125 films in all, but I will only covering in detail the software side of his career, the movies he was proud to sign with his own name - some 56 titles, which is far more than most directors get to make in a career. The others will be covered in thumbnail form, but even his hardcore work generated a few gems and those will be given special focus. While reviewing one of my Sarno commentaries, CineSavant Glenn Erickson mentioned my book-in-progress and wrote, "if the information he’s compiled for this commentary is what can be expected, it might be a major work." This is very much my goal.

At the moment, I am slightly more than 600 pages into my manuscript. I imagine there’s still at least another 400 pages still to write, so we’re probably talking about something in the neighborhood of another Bava book. There's no contract yet but it looks like the book will be published by Strange Attractor - the UK company behind Stephen Thrower’s beautiful books devoted to Jess Franco. They have expressed strong interest, and we've got a verbal agreement, so the end product should be attractive and pleasant to handle.

In my view, Sarno wasn’t just America’s greatest and most prolific avatar of erotic cinema; he was also our first and perhaps only genuine dramatist of human sexuality - not in terms of explicitness (that didn’t really interest him, and it doesn’t interest me) but in terms of how all human life is affected by the mysterious forces of sexual orientation, sexual will, and sexual need. His best films depict how people, as individuals or in groups, communicate and express themselves sexually, how such expression can be either fulfilling or self-deluding and destructive, and how the complex nature of sex can impact private homes, apartment buildings, neighborhoods, businesses, cities, society as a whole. This is an entire side of human nature than most other drama - especially American drama - ignores.

I’m blessed and fortunate to have the support of Joe’s wife, muse, assistant and occasional actress Peggy Steffans (“Cleo Nova”) - whom I’ve known by phone for many years; she is supplying me with information, stories, and materials - and his good friend Michael Raso, who is actively working with Film Movement to locate and restore Joe’s films and make them more commercially available. I knew Joe himself by phone for several years and hope that, wherever he is, he knows he’s still a hot topic of conversation and very much still alive and appreciated in the pages I’ve been piling up.

So... Happy Birthday, Joe - and here’s to your next 100!

Friday, March 05, 2021

A Handy Guide to the GUNSMOKE TV Movies, Part 2

GUNSMOKE: THE LONG RIDE (1993) - This fourth and penultimate entry in the series brought back HOW THE WEST WAS WON director Jerry Jameson, which I'm sure kept Mr. Arness comfortable, yet it - like the one still to follow - would mark the first time a writer was brought in from outside the classic GUNSMOKE team. The writer in question was Bill Stratton, a veteran TV scribe whose credits included 16 episodes of the original HAWAII FIVE-0, CANNON, and THE BLUE KNIGHT, whose only prior Western credit was the 1986 TV-movie THE LAST DAYS OF FRANK AND JESSE JAMES. Stratton was also the first writer for the movie series who wasn't building his story around flashbacks from an older GUNSMOKE episode; the story it tells is all-new - and, while that's welcome, the deep traction of the previous three films, the feeling of rounding up the old gang to prove they still have it, is generally missing. The film opens with the wedding of Matt Dillon's long-lost daughter Beth (returning Amy Stoch, now Stoch-Poynton) to Josh Reardon (Christopher Bradley) - who somewhat resembles but is not the soldier with whom she was shown to have some chemistry in the previous outing. Of course, weddings and engagements are omens of bad luck in GUNSMOKE lore, and that hasn't changed; as soon as the knot is tied, three deputies arrive from New Mexico to take the Father of the Bride into custody, as he has been n falsely identified as the outlaw responsible for shooting to death a wealthy mining executive while in the act of a recent robbery. Matt still respects the law, so he goes along peaceably, expecting to clear up a simple case of mistaken identity; but things change by the time he reaches New Mexico, where he's found to have a $5,000 price on his head, wanted dead or alive. Once Matt breaks away to clear his name, it becomes the story of enemies and friends met along the way to vindication, and how hard it sometimes is to tell the difference. The primary guest stars are James Brolin as John Parsley, an amiable whiskey priest struggling to find his own way back to being a good man, and Ali MacGraw as "Uncle Jane" Merkel, a widowed tradeswoman whom Parsley loves but on whom he's always been too shy and self-deprecating to stake a claim. The decision to move away from nostalgia towards creating something altogether new is commendable but this also results in the absence of the usual Western guest star veterans, which was an important part of the series' - and this series - overall alchemy. Even so, Arness remains rock-solid, the action scenes are well-handled, and the movie remains above average. If the Brolin-MacGraw romance is a little wobbly as it moves forward, its symmetry of its culmination is still moving. Not great, but still worthwhile.

GUNSMOKE: ONE MAN'S JUSTICE (1994) - James Arness's swan song in the Matt Dillon role - again directed by Jerry Jameson, and this time written by husband-and-wife team Harry and Renée Longstreet - seems to have learned from the previous outing that some form of sentiment, if not nostalgia, was necessary to the overall recipe of these films. ONE MAN'S JUSTICE achieves this not by accessing old footage as hazy memories, but rather by involving a young character who reminds the aging Matt of himself at a decisive fork in his own life, as well as by studying his ongoing relationship with the U.S. Marshal badge he no longer wears. Here, Matt has settled down as a cattle rancher but he is drawn back into active duty when an orphaned 15 year-old boy of his acquaintance sets off in pursuit of the outlaws who murdered his mother during a brutal stagecoach robbery. As Matt expresses to his daughter, his ongoing belief in the law makes it necessary for him to try to involve himself, to intercede, to prevent the boy from becoming a murderer or from getting murdered in the process. The film allows for more bonding and business with Dillon's daughter and son-in-law (who offer active counterpoint to the main narrative and take part in a tense shoot-out/punch-out sequence) - it's probably Stoch's best showing as an actress in these films. Also along for the ride is Bruce Boxleitner (who played Arness' nephew on HOW THE WEST WAS WON), as Davis Healy, an innocent-seeming traveling salesman who becomes more complex when he proves himself to be surprisingly adept on the draw. The welcome reunion of Arness and Boxleitner strikes a nicely complex chord and Matt is really dragged through the wringer in his doggedness - at 71, he's still taking some hard rides (not to mention new bullets) for a selfless cause. Don't expect a triumphal climax or any acknowledgement of the long history that goes with this character; it's not about providing an ending to that story, or even this series of films. It's a last mission, one last ride, before the happy retirement Matt was entitled to - no more, no less. Truth be told, as endings go, it's a good deal more satisfying than GUNSMOKE's final broadcast episode.

Thursday, March 04, 2021

On Boileau-Narcejac's DIABOLIQUE Novel

The ace mystery writing team of Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac were catapulted into international fame when their first collaborative novel CELLE QUI N'ETAIT PLUS... (1952) was filmed by Henri-Georges Clouzot as LES DIABOLIQUES/DIABOLIQUE, 1955), starring Simone Signoret, Pierre Meurisse, and Vera Clouzot. It was said that the novel was a deliberate attempt by the two writers to create something that would entice Alfred Hitchcock to acquire the screen rights - quite brazenly too, as the novel itself makes a tantalizing passing reference to a fishing lure known as the Hitchcock. Hitchcock didn't have a chance to fall into the trap set for him, but of course, he was Johnny-On-The-Spot when the team returned in 1954 with the novel D'ENTRE LES MORTS, which the Master of Suspense would famously bring to the screen as VERTIGO (1958), presently considered the greatest film of all time in the latest SIGHT & SOUND critics' poll. I like VERTIGO very much, but I would personally consider LES DIABOLIQUES the greater film.

D'ENTRE LES MORTS was translated into English, first appearing as THE LIVING AND THE DEAD, then reissued as VERTIGO at the time of the film's release. In recent years, after long unavailability, it has reappeared in paperback as THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. Long-term readers of VIDEO WATCHDOG may remember that I wrote a two-page article for our 40th issue titled "VERTIGO Before Hitchcock" [pp. 70-71], in which I described how very different yet fundamentally similar were the novel and film - an aspect I had not previously seen covered to any degree by known Hitchcock references.

It took me long enough to do it, but my recent renewed interest in Boileau-Narcejac and Clouzot's film led me to finally getting around to reading CELLE QUI N'ETAIT PLUS..., which first appeared in the UK as THE WOMAN WHO WAS, then was retitled THE WOMAN WHO WAS NO MORE for America, and also surfaced in Australia as THE FIENDS (my favorite of the titles and the closest to LES DIABOLIQUES). Both books were translated by the same author (Geoffrey Salisbury) and they are exquisitely crafted.

We all remember the basic plot of DIABOLIQUE, right? At a French elementary school, the headmaster's wife and mistress (one of the schoolteachers) conspire to murder the man they have in common, who is a sadistic brute who makes both their lives miserable. The wife is so abused that she's a nervous wreck suffering from heart problems. Together, with the mistress taking the lead, the two women knock the man unconscious, drown him in a bathtub and conceal the body in a swimming pool that has been covered up for the season. In time, the wife begins to see evidence that the husband is not so dead after all. In the end, it turns out that the husband and mistress have faked the murder to frighten the wife to death from cardiac arrest, so they take over the school (which she owns) and collect the insurance. In reading the novel, I was surprised to find out that Boileau-Narcejac's story was, once again, quite different to the film despite also being very similar.

The current edition.

The novel is about the husband, Fernand Ravinel, a man in early middle-age who went to law school but somehow never did anything with his education; his lack of ambition instead led him into the career of least resistance, as a salesman of sporting accessories who travels out of town by car for week-long periods, during which his young wife Mireille is left alone at home. It is Ravinel's father, a gloomy figure that haunts his imagination whom he blames for the defeatist disposition he's inherited, who was a school master. As the book opens, Ravinel is already preparing to murder Mireille with his mistress Lucienne, who is a doctor. A brief mention is made of Ravinel having a weak heart, but there is no pay-off to the detail. The murder itself takes place in the second chapter. It is as it occurs in the film, but the victim in the wife, whose body is left in the tub for two days, weighed down by two heavy iron dogs used as fireplace sentries, before her body is wrapped in a ground-sheet and carried off to be submerged in the shallows outside what Ravinel calls his lavoir - meaning the shed where he cleans up after gardening, but in French lavoir also has the relevant double meaning "to see her," which is important because - shortly after the body's disposal - Ravinel begins to see Mireille and discovers that the body has disappeared from where they left it. He never sees her, but others do - like her brother, who recalls that Mireille, since she was a child, always had a kink of wandering off, disappearing for days at a time. Ravinel then begins to receive letters and notes from the dead woman, and the novel meticulously charts his psychological disintegration as he veers from rationality to believing that Mireille is a ghost and that he can see her because this haunting is part of a preparatory pas de deux that will culminate in their embrace and his own death.

Has the novel ever been filmed in this way? I am aware of several filmings of the novel - supposedly of the novel - including John Badham's REFLECTIONS OF MURDER, a 1974 TV movie starring Tuesday Weld and Joan Hackett; Pierre Koralnik's "Les Demoniaques," a 1969 episode of the French omnibus series LA GRAND COLLECTION; Mimi Leder's HOUSE OF SECRETS (1993), another TV movie, this one with Melissa Gilbert and Bruce Boxleitner; and of course Jeremiah Chechik's feature-length remake DIABOLIQUE (1996) with Sharon Stone and Isabelle Adjani. They all credit Boileau-Narcejac yet they adhere to the script for the Clouzot film, which was the invention of Clouzot, Jérôme Géronomi, René Masson and Frédéric Grendel - now mostly forgotten by the original film's many tributes.

Simone Signoret and Paul Meurisse in the classic Clouzot film LES DIABOLIQUES.

It was astounding for me to discover that the novel is so radically different to the film. Boileau-Narcejac became famous for their association with DIABOLIQUE; they must have felt like imposters when people praised them for it! And yet THE WOMAN WHO WAS NO MORE or THE FIENDS or whatever you want to call it is a superb novel. I would have to say the film is the greater creation and I understand why Clouzot probably considered the original story unfilmable as-is. So much of the novel is internalized - as my Australian paperback copy says, it's "a novel in the Simenon tradition, with all the eerie fantasy of a story by Edgar Allan Poe." It is set almost entirely inside the head of the husband (the character whom we learn least about in the film versions) and focuses mostly on the tightening vice of his ongoing internal monologue; that is aside from brief transcribed dialogues with other fleeting characters - the mistress of course, neighbors, postmen, bartenders, policemen, and the intriguing and humorous bit part of Desiré Martin, a seedy private detective formerly of the Surété (hinting at some past catastrophic failure or transgression), who tries to undertake an investigation of the missing wife. Perhaps most surprising is the book's final chapter, which gives us our first look at the relationship between Mirielle and Lucienne. Even if you've seen the film, it withholds its most unnerving surprise for the closing sentence of the book.

The novel has several engrossing sequences that have never been filmed, particularly a lengthy sequence set in a dense fog where Ravinel believes himself on the trail of his wife's ghost while at the same time being pursued by a shadowy man in squeaky shoes. Though it changes a great deal of its original story (even the names of the various characters - they could have kept at least those remnants!), the film is nevertheless an inspired analogy of how the novel goes to work on the reader; Clouzot and his team of writers found ingenious ways of externalizing its internalized landscape and ratcheting up the suspense with a subtle but meaningful alteration of the central criminal diagram, relocating its remote house settings to a public school full of children, and moving away from its looming phantasms toward the greater horror of a logical explanation.

Monday, March 01, 2021

A Handy Guide to the GUNSMOKE TV Movies, Part 1

Donna and I recently completed our plan to watch GUNSMOKE in its entirety - some 20 Seasons and 635 episodes. I didn't know much about the show, as it had never appealed to me from afar, but my friend Larry Blamire sent me a small stack of his favorite episodes and they got me interested. What took me by surprise was the quality of the writing, the guest stars, even its cinematography. When I finally took the bait, the next step was predicated on buying the CBS complete series DVD box set, a pricey item. Fortunately I found a refurbished used set within our range (with no apparent problems other than a torn seam in the outer packaging), and it turned out to be one of our happiest entertainment purchases. We started seriously watching late last July, and we finished last night with postscript screenings of the five GUNSMOKE TV movies. Since finishing the series, I've been wrestling with regrets that I didn't take notes on each of the episodes. A few friends have even been nudging me to write a book about the show, which is a nice idea but my schedule is pretty much claimed for the near future. But it wasn't too late to write something about the TV movies, so here is my handy guide yet another surprising high quality body of work.

GUNSMOKE: RETURN TO DODGE (1989) - Though more than a decade had passed since the cancellation of the twenty-seasoned series, the first GUNSMOKE TV movie feels very much like an authentic continuation, thanks to a still-authoritative James Arness and two other series veterans: director Vincent McEveety (45 episodes) and writer Jim Byrnes (34 episodes). Milburn Stone had died in 1980 and Ken Curtis was insulted by the offer they made, so neither Doc nor Festus is present (save in flashbacks). It's hard to see how the story could have accommodated them anyway; it's too busy getting told to allow for much Old Home Week indulgences. That said, a measure of sentiment is allowed for the return of Amanda Blake as Miss Kitty, absent from the final season, who (we're told) left Dodge for New Orleans when Matt came too close to death in an earlier episode. (This actually happened in "The Badge" - Season 15, Episode 19 - four years and dozens of episodes prior to her real leave-taking of the series. Hey, artistic license.) Alas, their relationship appeared to be waning even as the series endured - both characters were given independent and ultimately tragic love stories in Blake's final season - and here, with a much-slimmer Blake audibly restrained by recent oral surgery - there is an air of inevitable defeat hovering over their relationship. Steve Forrest's Mannon (GUNSMOKE's most chilling villain, introduced in Season 14, Episode 17) and Earl Holliman (a three-episode veteran playing a new character, albeit one with past history of Dillon) also return, and with them there's a hell-yes feeling of recaptured thunder in their performances. Arness has lost none of his authority as Matt Dillon but he took the wrong advice about his hair, which frames his well-lined face like an anachronistic Elvis wig. Latter-day series regular Buck Taylor returns as Newly O'Brien, now Dodge City's newly-mustachioed sheriff, and he is a particular standout in impressive company; he has aged wonderfully into his role, and gives it everything he’s got. I was also pleased to spot Mickey Jones - former drummer for Bob Dylan, the Hawks, and Trini Lopez - in a supporting, rifle-toting role. If it’s rushed for time and a little too obviously written to accommodate flashback footage, RETURN TO DODGE comes much closer to hitting the bullseye than I would have predicted.

GUNSMOKE: THE LAST APACHE (1990) - The first feature-length sequel was written by Earl W. Wallace (the author of seven Season 20 episodes) and entrusted to fledgling director Charles Correll, a veteran cinematographer whose CV boasted the likes of NATIONAL LAMPOON'S ANIMAL HOUSE, THE WINDS OF WAR, STAR TREK III: THE SEARCH FOR SPOCK - and RETURN TO DODGE. Just as RETURN TO DODGE served as a sequel to Steve Forrest’s two superb "Mannon" appearances, this one adds a postscript to "Matt's Love Story" (Season 19, Episode 3) which chronicled an amnesiac Dillon’s surprising sudden romance with widowed rancher Mike Yardner (THE WALTONS' Michael Learned). Seventeen years after this one-night-stand (which featured Arness' only screen kiss in the entire series), Matt receives a letter from his lost love asking for a return visit. Once he gets there, quick - no time for hellos - he gets caught up in pursuing Wolf, an Apache son of Geronimo who has abducted Mike’s teenage daughter Beth (Amy Stoch) - whom Matt belated learns is his daughter, too. Richard Kiley, another popular GUNSMOKE guest star, returns to essay a new character here, that of Chalk Brighton, an aging scout who’s been leisurely courting Mike for many years and, feeling a "loss of thunder," initially doesn’t take kindly to Matt Dillon’s arrival on the scene. The story of how their relationship matures through trial and error is as rich as any the story encompasses, with both Arness and Kiley in top form. All told, this is another success, with fine performances across the board (Matt's hair issues are under control) and handsome location photography by Jerry G. Callaway (Michael Mann's THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS). There are some breathtaking shots, and one can only regret that the medium had yet to go widescreen. The score by Bruce Rowland (THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER), which leans a little too heavily on synthesized instrumentation for a film of such natural settings, sounds like a budgetary concession and is the only department where things might have been improved. The end credits include a memorial dedication to Miss Amanda Blake and series writer Ron Bishop, the author of "Matt's Love Story."

GUNSMOKE: TO THE LAST MAN (1992) - After a two-year hiatus, James Arness reunited with THE LAST APACHE’s writer Earl W. Wallace and his director on the TV series HOW THE WEST WAS WON, Jerry Jameson for this solid sequel - the first of the TV movies to stand on its own two feet without incorporating any flashbacks to scenes from the original series. In this story (set “in the 1880s” - perhaps less than 10 years after the final season), a lean and lanky Matt Dillon - now a rancher moving 100 head of cattle - gets involved in the crossfire of a bloody family feud after embarrassing the young hellraisers of one of the families, the Grahams, in a barroom showdown: they retaliate by stealing his herd and abducting his 18 year-old (!) daughter Beth (Amy Stoch). There is a complete dissociation from Dodge City (which one imagines would have looked artificial in the midst of all this western authenticity); I don’t even remember Dillon once referring to it as home. Nevertheless, the film maintains the series’ integrity with a strong script (if the dialogue is sometimes clichéd and predictable, they are welcome clichés), generally committed performances, and some returning faces from the series’ long history such as Morgan Woodward (as the morally waffling sheriff of another town) and Pat Hingle (no longer Doc’s temporary replacement, here the head of a KKK-like group of hooded lynchers calling themselves the Committee of 50). An especially happy sighting is young Jim Beaver as Woodward’s hapless deputy. If the film has any weakness at all, it has something to do with the then-present pool of available young talent not always having the natural grit that young Western actors seemed to acquire and wear naturally in the 1950s through the ‘70s, which I suspect has something to do with the Western losing its pride of place in filmed entertainment over the years since shows like GUNSMOKE left the air. Not that these performances are bad, but bad guys are more memorable, and cut deeper, when cast with character actors rather than pretty boys and GQ types. Also, the script invests so much of Dillon’s emotion in Beth and the memory of her (now late) mother Mike, one is left with the residual feeling that his long-term relationship with Miss Kitty was never as deeply meaningful to him as it was made out to be. The end credits include a memorial dedication to GUNSMOKE's creator and principal writer, John Meston.

TO BE CONTINUED