RIP Matthew White

Here's Matt revealing in the moment at the premiere of his dream project.

Today, September 30, is the birthday of my old friend and colleague Matthew White. Shortly after posting my best wishes of the day on his Facebook page, a mutual friend notified me that Matt had passed away earlier this month on September 4. 

Matt's importance to my writing career cannot be overestimated. I made his acquaintance back in 1984 when, having recently left CINEFANTASTIQUE, I submitted some writing samples to VIDEO TIMES (later VIDEO MOVIES) magazine which was also Chicago-based. Matt accepted my samples and made me one of his staff writers, starting off what has become a lifelong deluge of review screeners (then on VHS). After proving my reliability, he flew me to Chicago under mysterious circumstances to invite me to co-author and edit an upcoming series of 12 Home Video Guides for Signet Books. (I remember noticing that Matt was the only guy I'd ever met whose nails were as badly bitten as mine!) He quizzed me about some random names and I must have passed the test because I got the job, which resulted in my earliest works published in book form - and they were displayed in every bookstore in town. Then he took my complaint seriously when I pointed out that all the reviews in VT/VM were just movie reviews, rather than reports on the quality of their presentation. In a single phone call, he accepted my proposed monthly column for the magazine, which he dubbed "Video Watchdog." (I always mentioned his name when giving interviews about VW, which he told me he always appreciated.) The column ran in VM throughout its remaining year of publication, then migrated to other magazines (Michael Nesmith's OVERVIEW and then GOREZONE) before becoming a magazine in its own right in 1990, which lasted for 27 happy years. It still exists, in a form, as this very blog. 

I have memories of certain phone calls we shared. One, when he told me his wife had given birth to a son they were naming Thaddeus (I liked and still like the name), and another when I called to congratulate him on the publication of his book THE OFFICIAL PRISONER COMPANION. As the number was ringing, a Devil spake into mine ear, suggesting that I surprise him by impersonating Patrick McGoohan - which, I must say, I did to truly awful perfection.

"Matthew White?" I inquired with crackling alacrity.

"Y-Yes?"

"Patrick... McGoohannnnnn," I said gravely, implacably. I impressed even myself and I felt a shiver pass back and forth through the telephone line. 

Matt actually gasped and said, "Oh, my God!" - probably fearing a rebuke from on high. I immediately 'fessed up to my real identity, and told him I thought his book was wonderful... I apologized more than once for my prank even before the call ended, and he forgave me... but I still look back on that moment as one of the more random and bewildering sins of my life.

Matt went on to have a career in video production much like my late friend and mentor Robert Uth, who died last year - specializing in themes of history, politics, and war. I reconnected with him on FB back in 2016 and I made sure he knew how important he had been to my own career. I was very happy to witness his late moment of triumph with the Beatles documentary EIGHT DAYS A WEEK; we talked on the phone after its release and he was quite candid about the ups and downs of the project's backstory. He was just starting to feel ready to entertain thoughts of what he might do next, and he allowed there might be a place in that project for me. 

Alas, there will be no more from Matt, but in saying Farewell to him, I must - once more - add my deepest thanks for giving this once-young writer a chance and a future, not to mention one of my most sizable audiences.

RIP, friend Matthew.

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

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And Now... DEMENTIA 13: The Director's Cut

DEMENTIA 13: DIRECTOR'S CUT (1963, 68m 43s; Vestron Video): In a surprising but welcome turn of events, this Roger Corman-produced psychological shocker - "the very first film by Francis Ford Coppola," as the cover proclaims it - is now available as #22 in their Collector's Series, for the first time anywhere in its original "Director's Cut." Initially budgeted at $20,000, the film was shot mostly in Ireland as a sidecar project to Corman's Grand Prix picture THE YOUNG RACERS, making use of some of its cast members (William Campbell, Luana Anders) as well as some local luminaries of Irish film and theater (including Patrick Magee) and the Gothic presence of Howth Castle. Coppola, whose initiative in writing this script was rewarded with a promotion to director after serving as sound man on THE YOUNG RACERS, and also doubled his budget when he lured another investor aboard. Coppola spent almost the entire nine-day studio schedule burning the candle at both ends, continuing to finish his script by night while shooting it by day. 

DEMENTIA 13 is distinctive from its very first shot.

As legend has it, when Roger Corman finally screened the dailies, he broke several pencils - not because the film was bad, but because it was sorely under length (at a time when theaters were beginning to abandon double feature programs for hardtop theaters) and failed to complement its mystery elements with enough shock sequences. As we watch the film even in its completed version, we might notice that Coppola also failed to give his film any kind of build-up to its grand finale, which just sort of happens much as it just sort of ends. Coppola did some additional shooting, such as the prologue he'd intended to film from the start, but Corman also hired Coppola's fellow USC graduate Jack Hill to film a second grisly axe murder for the picture. The final coup de grace was a splendidly ogreish score by Ronald Stein, which (along with his score for Corman's THE HAUNTED PALACE that same year) was among the earliest horror scores to win strictly through musical intimidation. Even with the added material, the film ultimately had to be brought up to an acceptable length by filming a "DEMENTIA 13 Test" prologue featuring Dr. William Joseph Bryan, Jr., who had been the technical advisor for the hypnosis scenes in the "Case of M. Valdemar" segment of Corman's TALES OF TERROR (1962).

The film - which Coppola candidly allows was inspired by Corman's wish to produce a film that would rip-off William Castle's HOMICIDAL in the way that it ripped-off Alfred Hitchcock's PSYCHO - stars Luana Anders as Louise Haloran, who is introduced having a heated argument with her husband John (Peter Read) in a rowboat (of all places), at night (of all times). John is out of shape and his exertions through rowing induce a sudden coronary, just as he's chortlingly warned Louise that she'll never see a dime of their inheritance should he predecease her. (This dark, dramatic scene is lent additional tension by a jittery transistor radio broadcast of "He's Caught," an all-but-forgotten rockabilly number by Buddy Fowler and the Fads.) She then consigns his body and belongings to the deep to convey the illusion that he's away on business. Given that much of the story involves the pond on Castle Haloran's property, we assume that they were rowing on the pond, but ponds aren't for rowing and John's death and its cover-up by Louise never come to light, even after the pond is completely drained. 

From Paul Julian's animated main titles sequence.

After a superb main titles sequence by former Warner Bros. and UPA animator Paul Julian, the criminally minded Louise learns from her troubled brother-in-law Billy (Bart Patton) that the family has been haunted by memories of the day when his sister Kathleen drowned in that pond, and that Lady Haloran in particular is haunted by her memory and tries to make contact with her spiritually. Louise then attempts to endear herself to Lady Haloran and pays a midnight visit to the pond to "arrange" a message to the family from beyond the grave... and to her surprise, in another never unexplained moment, finds the dead girl perfectly preserved in an underwater shrine. At this point, the film takes an unexpected turn of the sort that became very popular and fashionable in the wake of PSYCHO, and the family doctor (Patrick Magee, relishing every morsel of dialogue) steps in to solve the stubborn family mystery. As fun as Magee is to watch, the film forfeits its most compelling center of gravity when Anders (who gives the film's outstanding performance) is removed from the action. The cast of characters includes William Campbell as Billy's older brother Richard, apparently a famous sculptor who welds iron into Elizabeth Frink-like constructions, and Mary Mitchel as his fiancée. Neither of the Haloran sons are portrayed as even remotely Irish.    

Castle Haloran was actually Howth Castle, just outside Country Dublin.

Luana Anders as the compellingly criminal-minded Louise.

One of the toys from dead Kathleen's menagerie.

I can understand Coppola's desire and pleasure to see his original work finally presented as it was meant to be seen, but while the restoration imbues the film to its original organic nature, it also makes the film's many flaws and faults much easier to spot. There is Arthur, a handyman character played by Ron Perry, who suddenly appears to have lost his left arm when rushing to tend to a fainted Lady Haloran. There are times in the film when his arm is tucked into his coat outside his sleeve, as if in a bad one-armed-man ruse, but sometimes he has both arms, and at other times it's his right arm that's worn inside the coat outside its sleeve. It's very confusing and the dialogue never makes any mention of what might be the problem with him. There are boom mike problems; an obvious boom shadow is cast directly onto the actors when Louise and Billy are conversing by the pond, and later, as Gloria is soothing Lady Haloran, a boom wire briefly tips into the upper frame over Eithne Dunn. Late in the film, when Patrick Magee's Dr. Caleb discovers a dead body, as he walks toward the shed where it's been stored, a prominently shown cigar randomly appears and disappears from his mouth. And most famously, in the film's standout set-piece of Louise's midnight swim (which Coppola freely admits was the scene he pitched to Corman that won him the assignment), Luana Anders wears a conspicuously different panties when in and outside the water.

Luana Anders' classic moonlight swim.

Despite the film's many rough edges, it conveys a certain innate mastery at the same time, at its most effective when Coppola allows imagery to tell the story. Photographed by first-time DP Charles Hannawalt (formerly a key grip on Corman films), DEMENTIA 13 has an outstanding look about it with numerous memorable compositions. It notably predates Mario Bava's BLACK SABBATH and KILL, BABY... KILL! in its use of dolls and other trappings of childhood to convey a sense of morbidity and menace. There is also a moment in which Bart Patton is shown whiling away his time by dripping candlewax in curious psychological patterns, as Elizabeth Shepherd would later do in Corman's THE TOMB OF LIGEIA. All in all, it holds a manifold place of distinction in the genre - as Coppola's starting point as a writer-director, as one of Corman's most notable sponsorships of young talent, and as a mercurial work of psychological horror that somehow simultaneously belongs to both American and European Gothic traditions. 

William Campbell as Richard, the mad artist of the Haloran clan.                                

Patrick Magee and Bart Patton.

SPIDER BABY's Mary Mitchel in a startlingly diaphanous gown.   

The commentary is mildly spotty (Coppola seems to have been silently prompted to speak, here and there) but it is also a document of some historic importance considering the confluence of events and relationships it frankly documents. Coppola overlooks most of the gaffes I have pointed out here, but he points out some valuable, more transparent points of interest, such as the fact that the castle interiors had to be built diagonally on the tiny stages at Ardmore Studios just to evoke a sense of size and depth. He also tells some touching personal stories: one involving his father, then-aspiring composer Carmine Coppola, who turned down his invitation to score the picture because he insisted on also conducting his work (impossible for various reasons), which postponed his debut as a composer for several years (until he contributed "additional music" to FINIAN'S RAINBOW, 1968); another about his crush on Luana Anders during the filming, which he withheld from her for fear of harming their professional rapport; and an amusing anecdote about Patrick Magee's misadventures with drink. He also mentions in an aside that the Jack Hill footage produced to pad the picture will be included elsewhere on the disc, but this plan was evidently reconsidered. 

Another of the film's many triumphal compositions.

For many years a public domain eyesore offered in numerous substandard releases, the film has never looked better than in this Collector's Series presentation. The monochrome image is generally crisp (I say generally because the young Coppola optically cropped certain shots to reorient their composition, which dulled their sharpness) with exquisite contrast; one of the film's most memorable traits is its juxtaposition of ink-black nights with paper-white figures. (It also says a lot about the presentation that I've never realized, in more than 50 years of viewing, that William Campbell had freckles on his face.) The original mono mix is given a hearty DTS-HD Master Audio mix, but the film is actually galvanized in a new 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio soundscape that lends marvelous new dimension to the natural exterior sounds and makes the Ronald Stein score all the more powerful. The disc also includes a 1m introduction by Coppola, a feature-length audio commentary by Coppola, the lengthy theatrical "Test" prologue (which was actually directed by none other than Monte Hellman), and digital copy access. 

One wishes that both cuts of the film had been presented here in equal quality, but - realistically speaking - the whole point of this release was to give Coppola's debut its long-overdue hour of recognition in its purest state. For serious collectors and scholars of the genre, this has to be considered an essential purchase.

              

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Into the Wild with Weissmuller!

Johnny Weissmuller poses with a curiously unreal-looking Tamba in a JUNGLE JIM promo pose.

For the last month or so, I've been revisiting Columbia's JUNGLE JIM series via the Umbrella Entertainment three volume set, imported from the wilds of Australia. Now that I am nearing the end, I find myself wishing I had taken care to chronicle my journey here, because they do get jumbled up in memory and it would have been nice to have a record of which ones pleased me most, and why. I can tell you that the Umbrella Entertainment DVD set is both worth having and, at the same time, not quite ideal.

First of all, the three respective volumes are not chronologically presented, which means that - if you're determined to proceed through these films in the order they were made, you'll have to consult the Jungle Jim Wiki or some other source before you load up the next one. Secondly, while at least half of the titles look great (predictably, the ones which have already seen DVD-R release here), the balance appear to be sourced from older (possibly 1" videotape) sources and are not as pleasing. Furthermore, at least two of the 1.33:1 films in the set are presented in anamorphic 1.78:1 widescreen, which more than once provides the service of a jungle head-hunter. Here's the rundown of volumes and their respective contents. I've also numbered the films to indicate their correct chronology:

THE JUNGLE JIM MOVIE COLLECTION, VOLUME 1 includes JUNGLE JIM (1948, #1), VOODOO TIGER (1952, #9), SAVAGE MUTINY (1953, #10), JUNGLE MAN-EATERS (1954, #13), CANNIBAL ATTACK (1954, #14), and DEVIL GODDESS (1955, #16).

THE JUNGLE JIM MOVIE COLLECTION, VOLUME 2 includes THE LOST TRIBE (1949, #2), PYGMY ISLAND (1950, #5), MARK OF THE GORILLA (1950, #3), CAPTIVE GIRL (1950, #4), and JUNGLE MANHUNT (1951, #7).

THE JUNGLE JIM MOVIE COLLECTION, VOLUME 3 includes JUNGLE JIM IN THE FORBIDDEN LAND (1952, #8), FURY OF THE CONGO (1951, #6), JUNGLE MOON MEN (1955, #15), KILLER APE (1953, #12), and VALLEY OF THE HEADHUNTERS (1953, #11).

I was surprised to find that the snap cases of these Australian releases feature PG and M ratings indicating "Parental Guidance Recommended" and "Violence," but after refreshing my memory of the films, I'm finding these cautions to be responsible. The films are not graphically violent in terms of their staged violence, which is fairly tame (at least outside the number of times Weissmuller pretends to stab an animal into submission), but rather for their sometimes extensive use of documentary footage, which includes brief images of ivory harvesting, animal predation, and also one or two cruelly staged animal battles - including one in which a lion is placed in a pit with a bull and is shown several times being hoisted into the air by its horns, reducing the King of the Beasts to a panicking basket case.

Here are a few notes I took on some of the earlier movies I watched:

There is a scene in one of the early movies, perhaps the very first, in which Jim is called upon to defend himself against an attacking black panther. At one point, Weissmuller's stand-in lifts the kicking panther in front of his face and shows its underside to the camera. Unbelievably, this scene would be repeated in the series (so far as I presently know) in four different movies. There are other scenes (and many individual shots) that are repeated more than once throughout the series, including high dives, Tamba's backwards somersaults, and Weissmuller swimming footage. The viewer feels simultaneously cheated and impressed by their sheer gall.

In MARK OF THE GORILLA, the opening mondo documentary footage is narrated by an uncredited but most familiar voice. Before it was over, I realized it was none other than Mel Blanc! Though the monster plot resolves in one of those "Scooby Doo" explanations, this is one of the best films in the series and Johnny Weissmuller isn't just walking through his performance, for a change.

There's a wonderful moment in PYGMY ISLAND in which Jim and Tamba are attacked by a gorilla (Ray "Crash" Corrigan), where a swaying rope bridge crossing a deep ravine offers their only path to escape. When Jim gets nearly all the way across the bridge, the gorilla succeeds in uprooting the stakes anchoring it, and the bridge collapses. The scene is supported by an excellent Lydecker Brothers matte painting, but when the bridge drops, it (and most of Weissmuller, up to his shoulders!) disappears as it falls behind the lower matte! It's hilarious.

JUNGLE MANHUNT reprises the famous stock footage of the giant crocodile and iguana fighting to the death (originally filmed for 1940's ONE MILLION B.C.), which Weissmuller got to stumble upon once before as Tarzan in TARZAN'S DESERT MYSTERY (1943). This film is also notorious for a deleted scene that was nonetheless heavily promoted in its original trailer and ad campaign, in which Jim is attacked by a man-sized dinosaur with a hearty, hyaena-like laugh. Despite the omission, I found JUNGLE MANHUNT to be one of the most entertaining entries in the series.

The fabled missing scene from JUNGLE MANHUNT.

FURY IN THE CONGO is jam-packed with highlights - it features Lyle Talbot in evil mode, ponies painted to look like a rare relative of the zebra, an all-female tribe of spear-carriers, Vasquez Rocks, endless wind storms, several instances of offscreen sadism, a brief appearance by a giant desert spider (it looks like a Roomba with large black pipe cleaners sticking out of it), and it’s also notable as the only title in the series where they tried putting Tamba in a fur diaper to cover her butt - but it feels like significantly less than the sum of its parts. 

The giant desert spider encounter from FURY IN THE CONGO.

In JUNGLE JIM IN THE FORBIDDEN LAND, the plot concerns an anthropologist's intent to see and document a rumored race of Giant People in the jungle. When a male and female example of these Giant People are captured, they turn out to be werewolves - and really not so extraordinarily tall, yet no one ever comments on the fact that they look like werewolves!

And now some more detailed notes on the three Jungle Jim pictures I've most recently watched...

KILLER APE (1953): One of the endearing traits about the Jungle Jim films is that, when audiences began to grow tired or queasy in the face of "jungle thrills" (predation-themed stock footage crudely integrated into the adventures), they turned to monsters - and producer Sam Katzman had an uncanny knack for coming up with monsters so homely, they are lovable. (Look no further than THE GIANT CLAW, for example.) In this twelfth Jungle Jim adventure, our hero's main challenge is to find, identify, and clean the clock of a crazed scientist (CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON's Nestor Paiva) responsible for chemically altering jungle wildlife, but his mysterious adversary frames him for the murders committed by one of his rampaging creations. Watching the film and listening to its dialogue, one gets the sense that said monster was scripted to be the usual man-in-an-apesuit, possibly with minor augmentations to make him scarier, but instead, said "Killer Ape" is some kind of towering half-man, half-ape who thuds around in Wooly Bully boots and a Neanderthal bearskin toga. Exactly how human and simian chromosomes got commingled, the film leaves to the imagination, but the result is played by 7' 7", 499-pound, heavy-browed professional wrestler Max Palmer, who would soon retire from the ring and the screen to become an evangelist preacher. But here he looms out of bushes, through doorways, and surges forth right away in the opening credits, leaving deep, barefooted footprints everywhere despite his proto-Sonny Bono footwear. Though Jim never gets tied down to anyone other than his pet chimp Tamba, the films usually have some kind of love interest, and this time the female element is provided by the aggressive tawny-skinned Carol Thurston, who generally played native, Indian, and island girl roles; her character believes Jim to be guilty of murder for much of the film, until he is able to prove the existence of the Killer Ape, so there's none of the usual romance, per se. "Crash" Corrigan, who owned the jungle lot used in these films and played gorillas in earlier JJ films (notably MARK OF THE GORILLA), has a brief uncostumed role. Character actor Michael Fox, who had played a renegade Nazi in VOODOO TIGER, returns here in the final sequence as the medical officer.

JUNGLE MAN-EATERS (1954): The thirteenth film in Sam Katzman's Jungle Jim series is technically the last, as Johnny Weissmuller's protagonist would be presented somewhat differently hereafter, and it may well be the worst of the series to this point - and it doesn't help that the film's 1.33:1 aspect ratio is cropped to an anamorphic 1.78, the first time this has happened in any of the three Umbrella Entertainment sets. It’s especially (though not exclusively) damaging to the stock footage and this one is overrun with such; it even pilfers stock footage from the previous entries in the series, shots of Weissmuller climbing, walking, swimming, and so forth. When Jungle Jim frees a black panther from a bamboo cage, I thought for sure they were going to reprise Jim’s fight with the black panther once again, already reused in three sequels at this point after its first appearance, but... I guess they didn’t dare. Director Lee Sholem comes up with an ingenious trick, following the swimming shots with a damp-haired Weissmuller wearing clothes that are absolutely dry but one or two shades darker! The plot is about two African tribes pitted against each other by a malicious Frenchman (Gregory Gaye, who played the Nazi scientist in Sam Katzman’s THE CREATURE WITH THE ATOM BRAIN) who hopes to loot their diamond mines after each tribe wipes the other out. Neither of the African chiefs can act very well, so one imagines they hired the best they could get or afford... but then, well into the third act, there’s a shot of maybe a dozen members of a tribe marching sullenly across the screen... and they are led by none other than Woody Strode! (Uncredited, of course. No, that’s not him in the photo.) These warriors get into a tussle with Jungle Jim and his cohorts (including Richard Stapley) and then, for all of three or four seconds, the film gives us REAL movie magic - a once in a lifetime fight to the death between Johnny Weissmuller and Woody Strode! Then the movie goes back to drudgery mode, closing up after 67 minutes with the charming sight of an aging Tamba loudly smooching with a much younger chimp to the survivors’ delight. PS There are no cannibals in the story, nor is anyone eaten by a wild animal, so the title is something of a cheat - but there is some very tense and not exactly entertaining stock footage of a staged fight in tight quarters between a lion and a bull. (The poster promised cannibals. There are no cannibals. It could be that someone slapped the wrong title on the movie, as when VOODOO TIGER - which featured a Valley of the Headhunters replete with shrunken heads on display - was followed by... VALLEY OF THE HEADHUNTERS, which didn’t! The next Jungle Jim movie? CANNIBAL ATTACK. We’ll see about that.)

CANNIBAL ATTACK (1954): Indeed, the fourteenth film in the series reneges on its title. It doesn’t feature any cannibals; rather, it features a reformed cannibal tribe that no longer eats people but which isn’t above being hired by crooks to dress up in Hollywood quality rubber “crocodile” skins and deter any attempts to challenge their hijacking of precious supplies of cobalt. (They also carry super-cool gator clubs fashioned to look like a gator’s jaw. I found myself coveting this stupid prop.) A lengthy stock footage prologue confirms that the story takes place in Africa, rather than some nebulous "jungle," but this time (unusually, even for this series), the story takes place in an Africa without Africans. All the native tribesmen look either Polynesian or Hawaiian, not to mention out of shape. Not only that, but nine times out of ten, whenever someone says “crocodile,” the movie shows us a round-snouted alligator - even a whole happy, snapping family of them. As if this doesn't add up to enough fake window dressing, producer Sam Katzman’s contract for the Jungle Jim character expired with this picture and was considered not worth renewing, so Johnny Weissmuller is deprived of his trademark hat and now simply addressed as “Johnny.” Also, his chimpanzee Tamba - who was showing dangerously psychotic behavior by the previous entry - is replaced here by a younger, more sweet-natured chimp helper, Kimba. The leading lady this time around is sultry Judy Walsh, who mostly steers clear of Johnny romantically (Kimba amusingly defuses her only attempt at such an overture!), and former MAD GHOUL David Bruce gets to wrestle his own alligator. All in all, I’ve seen worse; it’s pretty mild, no better than average, but it’s got a couple of enjoyable matinee serial moments and its mind-boggling inaccuracies add to the fun.

I still have JUNGLE MOON MEN and DEVIL GODDESS to watch. I'll let you know how they play.

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

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Kino Lorber's THE SCREAMING WOMAN Reviewed

THE SCREAMING WOMAN (1972, 74m 4s; Kino Lorber): Recently, Kino Lorber has been quietly releasing a healthy spate of the horror/thriller-themed TV movies from the early 1970s, including Paul Wendkos' FEAR NO EVIL (1969), its sequel Robert Day's RITUAL OF EVIL (1970) and Jerry London's KILLDOZER (1974). Like their earlier releases of Dan Curtis' THE NIGHT STALKER (1972) and John Lllewellyn Moxey's THE NIGHT STRANGLER (1973) a couple of years ago, both of which were originally broadcast as ABC-TV MOVIE OF THE WEEK offerings, these restored presentations have gone back to the original 35mm film elements and breathed new life into what had previously been available as stale, ancient video transfers, which makes some of them a good deal easier to appreciate. 

Despite its title, THE SCREAMING WOMAN isn't really a horror film and it becomes easier to appreciate once this is accepted. The story concerns Laura Wynant, the wealthy matriarch of an immense property, recently released from a mental sanitarium and being closely monitored. Shortly after her homecoming, she hears signs of life coming from beneath the ground on her adjoing property where an old smokehouse used to stand. Of course, none of her relatives believe her because they are banking on her being nuts so they can inherit and sell her land from under her - even though eerie cutaways confirm the faint mutterings are coming from a battered woman buried alive by (we later learn) a violent, philandering husband (Ed Nelson) who thought her dead. Realizing that her closest relatives are useless to her, she tries to appeal to neighbors to help exhume the poor woman - in a series of vignettes mildly reminiscent of Frank and Eleanor Perry's THE SWIMMER (1968) - only to find her personal reputation an impediment.

The key attractions here are several: the star is Olivia de Havilland, in her first lead role in six years, and whose clout also attracted her old friends Joseph Cotten and Walter Pidgeon to participate); the script by ONE STEP BEYOND co-creator Merwin Gerard is based on the Ray Bradbury short story of the same title (it had previously been the basis of a classic SUSPENSE radio episode and would later be retold in more faithful adaptation on THE RAY BRADBURY THEATER); it features the last music written for a made-for-TV movie by John Williams prior to his migration to theatrical features; the costumes are actually by Edith Head (!); and the director is Jack Smight, who had just recently directed the theatrical Bradbury adaptation THE ILLUSTRATED MAN (1969), starring Rod Steiger and Claire Bloom. 

Though she is playing an "older woman" with a loosening hold on reality, Miss de Havilland was 56 years old when she made this picture (she died in 2020 at 104!) and I was staggered throughout this film's relatively brief running time - thinking her to be perhaps somewhat older - by what an athletic, physical performance she gives. (I looked it up and, in 1973, the average person's lifespan was 65-75, whereas today it's somewhat more than a decade further along.) She's always running, climbing up and down hills, skipping up and downstairs - often in heels - her only physical deficit being her character's arthritic hands, which prevent her from digging up the half-dead woman herself. Her introductory shot is almost egregiously self-conscious and precious, but the pride is as understandable as it may have been conditional; this was the Oscar-winner's first starring role since 1964's LADY IN A CAGE and HUSH, HUSH... SWEET CHARLOTTE, apart from a minor role in 1970's THE ADVENTURERS, and, when all is said and done, she earns the moment of honor. She gives a remarkable performance, really throwing herself into the part and never allowing a moment of doubt of her sincerity and, really, immense gift. Her craven children are played by Laraine Stephens and Charles Knox Robinson, and Nelson's hopeful mistress is embodied by Alexandra Hay. Nelson figures in an unintentionally funny sequence of events involving his victim's bloodstains, which I won't ruin for you - except to ask, why are killers always motivated to touch a bloodstain to verify it? 

It sure looks like blood... feels like blood... should I taste it, just to make sure?

For all its considerable provenance, the film is mostly a cold porridge of suspense, closer to something by Henry Slesar than anything we might recognize as coming from the universe of Ray Bradbury. In its defense, however, as it neared its finale I realized that what this film is really missing is black-and-white. The color cinematography's main directive is to enhance production value by being bold and colorful, which robs the film of all its potential atmosphere - and, believe me, DP Sam Leavitt's other credits (CAPE FEAR, ANATOMY OF A MURDER, SHOCK TREATMENT) suggest he could have brought a great deal more to the table. 

The 1.33:1 Blu-ray disc features optional English subtitles and also includes a few relevant trailers and an audio commentary by FANTASTIC TELEVISION author Gary Gerani. Gary has a real affection for this era and niche of production and can be trusted absolutely to bring all of the film's production notes and points of interest to the surface - including, for example, the fact that the film was produced during a disruptive film and TV composers' strike in 1972, causing it to be almost entirely scored (except for Williams' closing theme) with cues originally composed by Jerry Goldsmith and Morton Stevens for the Boris Karloff-hosted series THRILLER (1960-62). 

       

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RIP Mara Maryl (1939 - 2021)

It saddens me greatly to have to report the passing of MARA MARYL, the talented comedienne, actress, and muse of her husband, the prolific screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi. 

A graduate of the Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografica, she was born Mara Cianelli and was credited in her early films (including Sollima’s LE GATTE, De Sica’s MARRIAGE ITALIAN STYLE, and Monicelli’s RISATE DI GIOIA) under a variety of names: Mara Ombra, Cianelli, and Mara Marilli. When she married Ernesto in 1960, they made a pact: she would only act in the films he had directed, and he would only direct the films in which she starred... and so was born the newly (and finally) named Mara Maryl in the early giallo classic LIBIDO (1965), which also introduced - under the alias John Charlie Johns! - the great Giancarlo Giannini.

The Gastaldi-Maryl team went on to make several thrillers, including THE LONELY VIOLENT BEACH, CHEERS...CHEERS... CYANIDE, and (their last collaboration) THE END OF ETERNITY, to name a few. They also shared writing credits on two Sergio Martino thrillers, THE SCORPION WITH TWO TAILS and THE GREAT ALLIGATOR. They had three children and will be remembered as one of the true legendary loves of Italian cinema. My deepest sympathies to Ernesto, their children, their families, and everyone who loved and admired her. 

Mara Maryl was 82.

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

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My New Novella and CD Are Available NOW!

PS Publishing has started mailing copies of my new book and CD to those who ordered the unsigned copy. It will be just awhile longer for those of you who ordered the limited signed edition; I signed the signature pages at the start of the week and Dorothy Moskowitz (who composed the songs with me) is finishing them up today. Then we've agreed to send them back in the express lane to get those signed copies out to people as soon as possible. We're very excited to hear your response!

The book and CD have already made it into the hands of a friend in Los Angeles, so they're landing now! (We're still awaiting ours!) If you still haven't ordered because you were holding off till closer to the mailing day, that time is here - and this is where to order.

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

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50 Years Ago This Week... and Last Week... In Cincinnati Theaters

This first group of pictures opened here on September 1, 1971. At the time these ads first appeared, I would never have guessed that DAUGHTERS OF DARKNESS - 50 years later - would be the most widely available movie of the bunch. After all, it was rated R, it was from an obscure distributor (Maron Films / Gemini Releasing) and, from a distance, its cast's conflation of European art cinema and American daytime drama was perplexing. Sadly, I didn't get to see the film during its initial run but, in a sense, the version shown at that time HAS become something of a lost item, after all. Prior to its stateside release, Harry Kumel's erotic terror classic was given the once-over by notorious NY-based "film doctor" Fima Noveck, who cut some material to side-step an X rating, inserted various "fades to red," as well as a new theme song performed by Lainie Cooke (mistaken by some historians for the voice of Delphine Seyrig). This alternate version has not been available on any home video medium since the VHS days, when it was initially released by Continental Video. But now you can easily find the original uncut version in a must-have box set from Blue Underground, which offers the film on both Blu-ray and 4K Ultra HD, with the original musical soundtrack CD as a bonus. 

DAUGHTERS OF DARKNESS also played at a couple of local drive-ins with William O'Brown's THE WITCHMAKER (1969) and, as a third feature on the weekend, Terence Fisher's masterpiece THE DEVIL'S BRIDE (1968).

THE LAST RUN was a (then) new Richard Fleischer picture, but began as the latest John Huston film. Huston and Scott did not see eye-to-eye, and the star had the greater authority on set in this case. 1971 doesn't seem so long ago to me, so it's disorienting for me to see an ad "torn from today's headlines" whose fames of reference in regard to action pictures are Cagney, Robinson, and Bogart. 

Next up is a curious, experimental fusion of documentary and science fiction scenario, written by David Seltzer (who would later pen THE OMEN), in Dr. Hellstrom (Lawrence Pressman) presents an audio-visual presentation that offers persuasive evidence of a possible insect takeover of the planet. I still haven't seen this; I really should. There was a DVD and Blu-ray release of this title, but they are now OOP and very pricey.   

To be perfectly honest, there HAD BEEN a Western like DOC before, because this is essentially the story leading into John Sturges' GUNFIGHT ON THE O.K. CORRAL, with Stacy Leach as Doc Holliday and Harris Yulin as Wyatt Earp, given a suitably gritty, revisionist 1970s treatment by director Frank Perry and screenwriter Pete Hammill. Well worth seeing, it was recently made available on Blu-ray and DVD by Kino Lorber in a definitive presentation. 

Last but not least was this American International double feature, whose double-barreled campaign really shows no enthusiasm at all for either Gordon Hessler's MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE (which they fooled with extensively before releasing it) nor BUNNY O'HARE, an actual AIP flick starring Bette Davis, which was just as importantly the last theatrical release for the work of the extraordinary OUTER LIMITS stylist Gerd Oswald. It would have amounted to an okay if somewhat bittersweet evening for those who ventured out to see it, The AIP Golden Age was definitely over. Happily, the director's cut of MURDERS is now standard and it can be found on Blu-ray from Shout! Factory on a better double bill with Daniel Haller's THE DUNWICH HORROR (1970).

And now, two more titles that were hitting my local screens 50 years ago this week...  

Another AIP double bill! This one posited the latest Ishiro Honda kaiju-fest alongside something cruder, the independently-made, not-particularly-awaited return to the director's chair for Anthony M. Lanza (THE GLORY STOMPERS). YOG, MONSTER FROM SPACE was AIP's retitling of the film, which is today known by its preferred title SPACE AMOEBA, which can still be found on DVD from Tokyo Shock. which is how it's generally known today. Notably, it was the first Toho kaiju entertainment to be produced after the death of special effects innovator Eiji Tsubaraya, who had left Toho by this time to create and nurture his own television production empire. The effects and monster designs are generally fine, though some short cuts are visible. THE INCREDIBLE 2-HEADED TRANSPLANT is most notorious for starring Bruce Dern, who plays the mad doctor who grafts the head of a rabid criminal (Albert Cole) onto the body of a giant, lumbering man (John Bloom) with the mind of a child. Both heads went on to co-star in Al Adamson's DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN. It's available on Blu-ray as a Rifftrax disc. On a DICK CAVETT SHOW appearance, Bruce Dern refused to answer questions about the film because his paycheck had bounced.

One of the last of the high concept drive-in movie titles, WEREWOLVES ON WHEELS was directed by Michel Levesque, who subsequently made the nostalgic favorite SWEET SUGAR for Roger Corman's New World Pictures before finding a more lasting niche as an art director and production designer on such films as Russ Meyer's SUPERVIXENS (1975), UP! (1976), and BENEATH THE VALLEY OF THE ULTRA-VIXENS (1979), as well as BOBBIE JO AND THE OUTLAW (1976) and THE INCREDIBLE MELTING MAN (1977). The biker gang includes Stephen Oliver (PEYTON PLACE), Severn Darden (THE PRESIDENT'S ANALYST), Billy Gray (THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL), and Barry McGuire ("Eve of Destruction" and another PRESIDENT'S ANALYST alumnus). The version found on Amazon Prime is incomplete, but fortunately it's available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber.

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

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