Needed On Blu-ray: THE SEX OF ANGELS (1968)

It's directed by the author of MILL OF THE STONE WOMEN (Ugo Liberatore), co-scripted by the screenwriter of THE TIN DRUM (Franz Seitz), and scored by the composer for L'AVVENTURA and L'ECLISSE (Giovanni Fusco) - it's THE SEX OF ANGELS (Il sesso degli angeli, 1968), a forgotten Italian thriller filmed smack-dab on the cusp of the cinema's late Sixties advent into maturity. 

As you can see from the half-sheet poster above, it had a US release through Lopert Pictures; it was distributed through United Artists. Note how the ad campaign makes similar use of the sort of crazy, sing-songy, psychopathic blather than made TWISTED NERVE so endearing around the same time ("Cleaver, cleaver. Chop, chop. First the Mom and then the Pop. And then we'll get the little Girl. We'll get her right between the curl." - That'll pack 'em in!). Also adding to the intrigue of this discovery is that THE SEX OF ANGELS was one of the earliest US releases to receive an X rating. The film itself doesn't contain any imagery that would be considered graphic today - just a flash or two of breast nudity by a couple of sunbathers, no more. However, the story itself maintains a teasingly adult tone, an edge that has somehow remained sharp over the decades. 

Rosemarie Dexter, Bernard de Vries, Doris Kunstmann topless at the wheel.

It's the story of three beautiful, young and indolently wealthy young women (Doris Kunstmann as Nora, Rosemarie Dexter as Nancy, and Laura Troschel as Carla) who decide, for initially unclear reasons, to kidnap a young man to accompany them as they abscond with Nora's father's yacht for a weekend off the coast of Yugoslavia. Nancy - the really bad news of the bunch - chooses a medical student named Marco (Bernard de Vries - imagine William Berger and John Phillip Law put in a blender) to accompany them, teasing him sexually and promising him the full pay-off if he tags along. He does, only to discover that Nancy - whom he catches sleeping with the virginal Carla - is either gay, bi or frigid... either way, a disappointment once she finally makes good on their deal. Rosemarie Dexter, a discovery of Riccardo Freda (who cast her as his Juliet in 1962's Giulietta e Romeo) whom Jess Franco had originally sought to play the lead in his 1968 film MARQUIS DE SADE'S JUSTINE (and ended up playing a minor supporting role), provides the dramatic core of the film, lending deadly colorations to a character who, sadly and despite an obviously padded length, is never fully explored.

Rosemarie Dexter as Nancy.

After the disappointment of Nancy, and toying with the more clearly gay Nora, Marco focuses his attentions on Carla, who disappoints him again by announcing that she is saving her virtue for a "Negro," for the simple reason that she wants to shock people with the story of her deflowering for years to come! As night falls on the Adriatic, the secret purpose of the ladies' illicit voyage is finally revealed: they intend to experiment with LSD! Before the sugar cubes are ingested, the party lock themselves inside - they've heard stories about people jumping out of windows - and, because they've also heard that trippers often suffer amnesia about their experiences, they decide to record the proceedings on Daddy's reel-to-reel machine.

The acid party.

The preliminaries prepare us for highlights and plot twists that never really happen. The locked room aspect doesn't play into the mystery element that follows, surprisingly enough. Also, we don't get the expected LSD sequence - there are no distorted lens revels or light show effects whatsoever. Instead, in a twist that anticipates Mario Bava's 5 DOLLS FOR AN AUGUST MOON by a couple of years, we immediately cut to the next woozy morning when everyone awakens, suffering from amnesia, to the sound of the tape reel flapping. We expect Marco to discover one of the young women dead - but it is in fact Marco who has been shot in the abdomen with a pellet gun. The injury isn't bad enough to have killed him, but the consequences will be serious if he isn't taken to hospital immediately. Only the tape can reveal who shot Marco.

How to deal with a wounded medical student?

 I'll leave the details of the story there, but as you can see, THE SEX OF ANGELS is both an unusual Italian thriller for this period, and of particular interest for the elements it shares in common with other Italian thrillers that followed, notably the Bava film and also Ottavio Alessi's TOP SENSATION (1969). It's also a worthy addition to that select group of psychological thrillers set on the open sea.

An early example of the "He's not dead yet" surprise grabs.

Add to all of this an outstanding score by Giovanni Fusco that (rather like Bernard Herrmann's score for TWISTED NERVE) runs a shared theme through an impressive series of generic interpretations - from classical and folk, to pop, rock and jazz - and you get a lovely-to-watch, borderline kinky ride that, yes, teases a good deal more than it delivers, but is no less entertaining for that. Considering that I'd never heard of this film before, I was surprised by its level of quality, which is enhanced by the excellent Technicolor/Techniscope cinematography of Leonida Barboni (THE WITCH IN LOVE), the natural scenic beauty of the locations and cast, and an excellent post-sync track that confirms that all the actors spoke English on-set, some phonetically.

Definitely worthy of resurrection on Blu-ray. Until then, check your favorite streaming and torrent providers.

Back Into the BLOOD BATH

Arrow Video cover art by Dan Mumford.

I was taken aback the other day, while updating my Audio Commentaries list on my Facebook page, to discover that I have already - by mid-year - recorded as many commentaries for new Blu-ray and DVD releases as I did in the entirety of last year. Perhaps the most ambitious of my spoken work this year has been my "audio essay" for Arrow Video's BLOOD BATH - a box set of four related feature films that was somewhat inspired by a three-part article that I wrote in the early days of VIDEO WATCHDOG, in Issues 4, 5 and 7. (All three are available digitally.)

That extended feature, which in some ways was the article that defined what VIDEO WATCHDOG was going to be, though my research and final work wasn't completed until nearly a year into publication, was entitled "The Trouble With Titian" and it told, for the first time, the story of how a couple of Late Late Show curiosities, PORTRAIT IN TERROR and TRACK OF THE VAMPIRE, had in fact been spun off of two other features, a Yugoslavian thriller called OPERATION TITIAN and a Jack Hill B-picture called BLOOD BATH (which incorporated footage from TITIAN) - all of them executive produced by a fellow whose name didn't appear on a single one of them: Roger Corman.

Little blind girl meets ominous shadow in OPERATION TITIAN.

Prior to this release, OPERATION TITIAN (which was supervised by a young Francis Ford Coppola) was available only as an imported Serbian DVD, while PORTRAIT IN TERROR and TRACK OF THE VAMPIRE could be found badly cropped on a couple of public domain labels, sourced from 16mm TV prints. BLOOD BATH was finally made available as a DVD-R a couple of years ago. But now all of these inferior copies can be tossed away. The Arrow set, which has been released on both sides of the Atlantic on region-free discs, assembles the best-possible presentations of each title. Taken individually, the four films are okay at best, nothing to write home about (says the man who found a three-part article in them), but taken as a whole, they become a remarkable illustration of feature film economics and how to rework a commercial negative into a positive. This is where my "audio essay" comes into play, explaining what the films themselves cannot.

Patrick Magee, dipped in wax in PORTRAIT IN TERROR.

I've been putting "audio essay" in quotation marks (inverted commas for my UK readers) because, much like my original article, my project got a bit out-of-hand. Other audio essays appearing on Arrow releases, such as Michael Mackenzie's for BLOOD AND BLACK LACE or the Adrian Martin/Cristina Alvarez Lopez piece for THE STRANGE CASE OF DR JEKYLL AND MISS OSBOURNE, have been illuminating and nothing short of superb, yet they have averaged about 15 minutes. Thanks to the indulgent support to disc producer Anthony Nield and the assistance of my editor Ian Froggatt, my history of the four Titian films evolved to feature length; in fact, I'm proud to say it's the second longest feature in the set. As such, I think it would be fair to term it - as some reviewers kindly have - a documentary.

Sid Haig, Jonathan Haze and other beatniks in BLOOD BATH.

To break the four films down to basics: OPERATION TITIAN is a serviceable European thriller with creepy atmosphere and the jarring presence of two familiar English-speaking actors, William Campbell and Patrick Magee (both fresh from DEMENTIA 13, itself the subject of an excellent new Blu-ray restoration by The Film Detective). PORTRAIT IN TERROR is a re-edited version of TITIAN, sold directly to television, with some conspicuous padding in all likelihood supervised by Stephanie Rothman. BLOOD BATH is a 62-minute B-picture, concocted by writer-director Jack Hill to go out on double bills with Curtis Harrington's Soviet mash-up QUEEN OF BLOOD (released last year on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber) - a tongue-in-cheek amalgam of A BUCKET OF BLOOD and TOUCH OF EVIL, you might say, incorporating about three minutes of OPERATION TITIAN. Hill got the assignment to make SPIDER BABY and didn't get to finish BLOOD BATH, which Stephanie Rothman finished for him. And TRACK OF THE VAMPIRE is the extended TV version of BLOOD BATH - and boy, is it ever extended.

The eponymous villain of TRACK OF THE VAMPIRE.

But the story behind the making of these films is an important one, that has always tended to fall between the cracks of Roger Corman's other major successes of the time. (While various of his employees were making these four pictures, Corman himself managed to produce an additional 15 or so pictures, directed 7 or 8, and traveled and worked extensively in England, Ireland, Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union, as well as in Hollywood.) It is with these four films that Corman's background in engineering seems to come into inspirational play: it was his logical sensibility that understood that OPERATION TITIAN, while not commercially viable on its own terms, could serve as grist for his exploitation mill, facilitating a series of other pictures made with minimal funds that could turn a profit.

Check out my "The Trouble With Titian - Revisited" in the BLOOD BATH box set for the full story.  

Three New Books from McFarland

 The academic framing of KLAUS KINSKI, BEAST OF CINEMA: CRITICAL ESSAYS AND FELLOW FILMMAKER INTERVIEWS prepares one for a heavier and less entertaining book than it actually is. In compiling this overview of Kinski's career, touching upon all its highs and lows, editor Matthew Edwards has assembled a book that manages to be immensely readable, densely informative and insightful, and at times riotously entertaining. There are essays on AGUIRRE, NOSFERATU and his work with Herzog in general; his physical approaches to performance in Italian westerns; even pieces on his contributions to La Chanson de Roland and DR ZHIVAGO (!), as well as 17 pages on his films for Jess Franco and Harry Alan Towers. There are also 50 pages of interviews with various collaborators, and more than 60 pages of well-written reviews by Mark Edwards, Matthew Edwards and Dan Taylor. Expect to come out the other end with a heightened appreciation for him as an artist and perhaps less respect for him as a human being.

It is interesting to me that the giallo has been coming into its own, in recent years, as fodder for academic studies. Michael Sevastakis' new book GIALLO CINEMA AND ITS FOLKTALE ROOTS: A CRITICAL STUDY OF 10 FILMS, 1962-1987 is one that, on the basis of its title and subject matter, might attract readers it's unlikely to satisfy, though its ambition and its actual twist on the subject matter are commendable. Put simply, neither the author (a professor at the College of Mt. St. Vincent in Riverdale, NY) nor his book have any grounding in the popular life of these films in the US, claiming they were "seldom released in American theaters" and "usually distributed as redacted bootlegs," and the bibliography includes names like Georges Bataille alongside Carol Clover and Linda Ruth Williams. Bava père et fils, Argento, Martino, Lenzi, Fulci, Carmineo, Pastore, Bianchi and Bido are all discussed in terms of individual films. All the films covered are addressed (and indexed!) by Italian title. Remarkably, there is only one reference to Bava's BLOOD AND BLACK LACE (under S, for Sei donne per l'assassino), the most seminal of all gialli, in the entire book. A serious treatise, somewhat illuminating in terms of the literary approach it takes to deconstructing such an aggressively visual genre (from Mario Bava's THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH to Dario Argento's OPERA and Lamberto Bava's PHOTOS OF GIOIA), but also pretentious and, on its most basic level, misinformed.

Apart from his own unexpectedly involving Introduction, written in the wake of last year's race killings in Charleston and which manages to connect the Outsider themes of the subject at hand with the tragic circumstances to be written through, editor Johnson Cheu's TIM BURTON: ESSAYS ON THE FILMS is only 2.5 essays shy of being able to boast an entirely female authorship. This, in itself, I find significant because Burton's films rarely manifest a masculine strain that doesn't feature some element of cosplay, transvestism or augmentation/disfigurement, and there is a full chapter here (by Deborah Mellamphy) on "Gender Transgression and Star Persona in EDWARD SCISSORHANDS." My own feeling about Burton's films is that they can be sweet and creatively designed but are rarely original and seldom manifest any real depth. That said, the 14 essays included here - while seemingly oblivious to, or unconcerned with, his heavy debt to artists like Edward Gorey and Ronald Searle - find plenty of food for thought. Topics include body image concerns in CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY, the adaptation of SWEENEY TODD from stage to screen, malleable identity in DARK SHADOWS, and his uses of German Expressionism. I'm not sure of the extent to which the contributors are genuinely engaging with the material or merely using it as a convenient handle to confront deeper issues, but there is material here that makes the films themselves more worth revisiting from new, more engaging perspectives. PS No chapters on BATMAN or BEETLEJUICE.

McFarland books can also be ordered directly from their website or their telephone order line at 800-253-2187.

The Game's Afoot: Hammer's HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

It's always a pleasure to see a Hammer film released with respect in this country. Too often (especially when the major companies are involved) they seem packed off to market with a sense of haste, and perhaps a little shame, in bundles - as though the studio wanted to be rid of all their holdings in one stroke. This is why it's so gratifying to see the affection invested in Twilight Time's release of Terence Fisher's THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES (1959), which was recently issued with a wealth of extras in the company's usual strictly limited edition of 3000 units. I'm not sure how many copies of this MGM/UA acquisition currently remain, but suffice to say, grab it soon or forever hold your peace.

HOUND was arguably Fisher's most visually sumptuous collaboration with cinematographer Jack Asher, his chief collaborator on all his early Hammer horror titles, from THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1957) through THE MAN WHO COULD CHEAT DEATH (1961). Not only does Twilight Time's disc present the film in all its vivid Technicolor beauty, but - as the company's brand dictates - it also includes an isolated music (James Bernard) and effects track. It is not the first time this has happened on disc with a Hammer film - Synapse Films did this with TWINS OF EVIL, which had also been so issued back in the 1990s on LaserDisc - but it is still uncommon indulgence for a Hammer title, and - shockingly at this late stage - a home video first for both Fisher and Bernard. One may wish that Twilight Time had been able to provide the actual session tracks, as they do with many other releases, but those original recordings presumably no longer survive.

This HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES was one of the most eye-popping matinee treats of my movie-going youth, and it was fascinating for me to revisit the film in such clarity, to compare its ripe present tense with the memories of my racing young imagination. For example, the main title cards unfold over a series of three paintings; I couldn't help but remember that, as a kid, I accepted these paintings without question as authentic scenic views. I wanted to believe in the story I was about to be told, and I did from the get-go. Seeing them again, they are actually a bit crude but their handmade quality still feels admirable.

 

 

As the director's credit fades, we are treated to our first and only unobstructed view of one of these paintings, depicting the exterior of Baskerville Hall in the 17th century, when it was presided over by the cruel Sir Hugo Baskerville. Fisher transitions to reality with a (rather bumpy) camera track toward a stained-glass window, which suddenly smashes as a man is hurled through it. This launches us into a ravishing early example of what would, only a few years later, become finessed into the "extended pre-credits sequence": a narrator takes us back to the evening of one of Sir Hugo's bacchanals for neighboring land barons (all adorned in complementary colors), when their violent revels built to a lustful head, which Sir Hugo (David Oxley) intended to reward by offering his "herd of rams" the services of the abducted daughter (Judi Moyens) of an impoverished man in his debt.

The sequence, still a bit shocking for its blunt inferences, is one of Fisher's (and therefore Hammer's) greatest, and it gets the film off to a start that's equal to anything in THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN or HORROR OF DRACULA. Peter Bryan's dialogue is ripe with pop and crackle, and Jack Asher's cinematography is similarly fraught with bristling effects, adding to Oxley's fearsome performance with slightly unfocused close-ups and a surprisingly rugged focus rack as he crosses the room that make his off-the-rails energy seem truly uncontainable. 

That blue you see behind Sir Hugo, on the ceiling, is flickering with a coming storm but it's also luminous in ways that only the best Technicolor cinematography can be. What he is saying here is that "the bitch" (shocking for 1959) has escaped. She has made her way off into the Hall's surrounding, treacherous moors, where - against the advice of his saner fellows - Sir Hugo determines to retrieve her by turning loose his hunting dogs.

"LET LOOSE THE PACK!"

Here on the moors, Hammer's art department, led by the heroic production designer Bernard Robinson, turn an obviously interior "exterior" set into a splendidly dimensional outpost of the imagination, whorling with nearly three-dimensional fog as the aristocracy mercilessly descends upon the working class. The depth of field in these shots can never be as adequately conveyed on DVD as it is here.

 

Startlingly, considering the effort put forth to present the young woman as a real and vulnerable character in a remarkably brief amount of time, Sir Hugo is successful in finding her, whereupon he decides to take his satisfaction not by raping her, but by stabbing her to death. The contact of knife and torso occurs below the camera range, as it would in a rape sequence of this period, and the imagery of the blood-covered blade as it is raised into view is double-charged with significance.

But it is Sir Hugo's last night on earth as well, as his act of murder is answered by a hellish howling on the moors, followed by the arrival of its fabled inhabitant, who attacks him and sends the murder weapon bouncing overground, where it settles in a nicely decorative arrangement - rather like the shot of the mask that ends Fisher's THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (1962).

From this shot, we dissolve to the present, where we are surprised to learn that our narrator is not one of those storytelling conventions of the cinema, but far more practical: the legend of the Hound of the Baskervilles is being read to Sherlock Holmes (Peter Cushing) and his associate Dr. Watson (Andre Morell) as a prelude to enticing them to accept the challenge of unmasking its mystery. As storytelling devices go, this one still works like gangbusters.

As a whole, the sequence is comparable to much in Hammer - the introductory backstory of the beggar in the Marquis' palace in CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF (1961), for instance - but here its colorful, compact execution is a veritable fireball, worthy of Powell and Pressburger at their most impassioned.

And yet, for all this, the moment in the picture that most stands out for me now is the quieter, painterly perfection of the meeting of Dr. Watson, who's out poking around the moors, and Cecile (Marla Landi), the sullen daughter of the Baskerville family's groundskeeper Stapleton (Ewen Solan). I seem to recall David Pirie, in his invaluable book A HERITAGE OF HORROR: THE BRITISH HORROR CINEMA 1945-1972, comparing the shot to the imagery of John Keats' 1884 poem "La Belle Dame sans Merci," which is not at all off-base. Pirie may have also invoked the painter Thomas Gainsborough; I can see his hand in the brushstrokes but Gainsborough didn't usually waste his time on likenesses of the peasantry. The same goes for John Singer Sargent, but if either of them had taken a brush to Keats' poem, the result could not have looked much different.

And the textures! Thankfully, Twilight Time's disc gives us all the textures and fine details that have stayed with me over a lifetime, from the rough tweed of Holmes' overcoat to the uncanny blue hues of Watson's pipe smoke.

 

  

  

And feast your eyes on this marvelous, wholly unnatural use of emerald green! Irrational color was one of Jack Asher's great signature traits, which can also be seen in his weaving of the color lavender throughout THE BRIDES OF DRACULA (1960), where is appears consistently in advance of every appearance or attack by a vampire.

Finally, though I don't recall this particular shot popping out at me in any previous viewing, I was struck anew by this shot of Christopher Lee as Sir Henry Baskerville, surprised in one of Baskerville Hall's closed-off rooms. The color here is less ostentatious than in the aforementioned green, but admire, if you will, the contrast of the rich blue limning Lee's shoulders and the quietly hellish reds burning up from the bottom right, just enough to delineate the equine profile of that rocking horse. Mario Bava could do no better.

In addition to this exquisite 1.66:1 presentation, the disc treats to two audio commentaries, one by film historian David Del Valle and filmmaker Steven Peros, and another by CINEMA RETRO's Paul Scrabo, Lee Pfeiffer and Hank Reineke; a pair of Christopher Lee featurettes (in one, he lends his resonant baritone to Conan Doyle's original text); an interview with Bernard Robinson's widow Margaret about the creation of the mask worn by the Hound in the film's climax; and an original theatrical trailer. An accompanying eight-page booklet includes appreciative liner notes by Julie Kirgo that touch on the original story, the film's original release, its grace notes and its place in the realm of what she calls "British Romanticism" and rightly allies with the best of Powell and Pressburger.

I should also mention that Hammer's HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES is also available as a handsome Region B disc from Arrow Video in the UK. The presentations are perfectly comparable but there is some variety in the extras. While the supplements are largely shared by both releases (with Arrow uniquely adding an Andre Morell profile), the music and effects track is exclusive to Twilight Time. The commentaries offered by the two companies are likewise exclusive, with Arrow offering an animated and informative discussion between the always-welcome Hammer authorities Marcus Hearn and Jonathan Rigby. 

Twilight Time's disc is available directly from Screen Archives Entertainment, or use this handy link. 
 
   

Welcoming A New Classic: THE BFG

Though I'm not much of a Steven Spielberg fan, I was charmed by THE BFG from start to finish. There's enough salt in Roald Dahl's original story to keep Spielberg's cloying tendencies at bay, but the film is also a textbook demonstration of how to properly use CGI - always to serve the story, never to drown it out. (Donna complained that the CG work wasn't 100% realistic, but I don't think this was one of its goals, nor should it have been. Imperfections lend a handmade quality; they are character.) Mark Rylance and Ruby Barnhill, both excellent - in fact, I hope that Rylance's splendid characterization will be acknowledged under his makeup when award season begins. He brings a preposterous character completely and warmly to life. One of Spielberg's finest films, a choice addition to the Dahl filmography. Time may well prove it among the most accomplished fantasy films in the English language.

Turn the Blue One!

Set decoration from Dario Argento's SUSPIRIA.

This is an explanatory note pertaining to a long-overdue change I have decided to make here at Video WatchBlog. As you go back over the postings till the end of last year, you will notice that the initial mentions of the film or book titles in each entry are rendered in the color BLUE. If you click on these, they will take you directly to the pertinent sales pages at Amazon. This will help you to further research your purchases before you make them. I hope you will make use of these handy links, particularly if I've written something to inspire you to buy one or more particular titles.

Responding to THE LEGEND OF TARZAN

Warner Bros. promotional image.

I haven't heard any in-between opinions concerning David Yates' THE LEGEND OF TARZAN but I'm afraid that's where I stand.

Yes, it gives us the John Clayton/Tarzan of the novels, a triumph in itself, and Alexander Skarsgard makes a beautiful Tarzan - his flashback meeting with Jane (Margot Robbie) is perfectly staged. Likewise his reunion with the lions, and the stampede climax is thrilling. But my two complaints are writ large.

Say what you will about the Weissmuller films; they brought a live actor into contact with live animals. Even when he was wrestling with that stuffed alligator, he was actually grappling with something and using Olympian swimming chops to do it. We may be too quick to overlook the fact that imbuing a prop with life is called ACTING. If an actor is replaced, mid-leap, by a computerized replica of himself, manipulated to do what he cannot, I don't know that it can. As a result of LEGEND's emphasis on CGI animals and jungle backdrops and Tarzan action (too closely modeled on Spider-Man, I felt), the film never imparted to me a genuine sense of conflict or risk, nor thus any sense of suspense or anxiety; and it didn't help that the real conflict of the story, the vendetta of the African chief (Djimon Hounsou) over the death of his son, was overshadowed by the increasingly de rigeur villain Christoph Waltz and his smirky quest for the Opar diamonds.

Margot Robbie and Alexander Skarsgard.

But my biggest gripe concerns the film's much-too-contemporary dialogue, which I feel flies in the face of the extraordinary measures taken by the art and effects departments to evoke and sustain a Victorian time frame. Jane's "I don't THINK so, wild man!" made me wince (there's only so much female empowerment that is seemly in a situation like that) and there was still worse to come, not least of all from Samuel L. Jackson. So I suspect the film's determination to "play" to a modern audience is going to be the very element responsible for making it look dated within the next 10 years while films like TARZAN AND HIS MATE, TARZAN ESCAPES, TARZAN'S NEW YORK ADVENTURE, TARZAN'S GREATEST ADVENTURE, TARZAN THE MAGNIFICENT and TARZAN'S THREE CHALLENGES will continue to play as well as they ever have - the latter few standing out, even now, especially now, as the series' real, enduring triumphs of authenticity.

That said, I certainly don't mean to discourage anyone from seeing THE LEGEND OF TARZAN - in fact, I would encourage you to see it. I think you'll enjoy it; I enjoyed it more than these blog notes may indicate. It was only in discussion afterwards that its cons began to outdistance its pluses for me. Its greatest achievement may be that it is actually paced (highly unusual in this day and age) like a real movie - which is sure to drive any ADHD-rattled stimulus junkies in the audience nuts. 

I just wish I could say, whole-heartedly, "See this one, it's great" - rather than "See this one, it's good - and you'll be sending a message to Hollywood that we'd like more of the same, hopefully better."

TL Interviewed by Octavio Caruso

Recently, Brazilian film critic Octavio Caruso asked me if I would mind answering some questions concerning Mario Bava and my views about his films, and I agreed. Yesterday, the interview was posted on his blog Devo Tudo ao Cinema, but only in Portuguese. With Octavio's kind permission I am reproducing the original English text of our discussion here. I encourage my bilingual readers to follow the link to his blog, follow his enthusiasm and share his findings.

                                         __________________________________

OCTAVIO CARUSO: 1 - Tim, the work of Mario Bava has suffered and still suffers from the prejudice of much of the movie critics, who often do not appreciate genre cinema. In Brazil we are still fighting. Teachers at brazilian film schools undervalue genre movies. I write about the gialli since I started acting professionally in the area, colleagues like Fernando Brito, curator and movie critic, responsible for releasing most of Bava’s work on DVD, even taught courses on him. What do you think about the importance of genre cinema (horror most of all) for the formation of a film industry?

TIM LUCAS: We do not allow for prejudices in life, so why introduce them into our perceptions of art? Genre film is really just an academic term for popular cinema - the cinema loved by most people, the cinema whose revenues allow so-called "higher" kinds of cinema to exist. For some reason, the horror genre seems to excite greater passion among viewers than any other kind of film, perhaps because it is the most liberating of the imagination and the most politically pointed. You do not find film conventions dedicated to dramas or musicals or even art cinema. One of the key reasons I began to explore Bava's work in the first place, when I was very young, was because I had seen the same character in Bava's film OPERAZIONE PAURA and in Fellini's TOBY DAMMIT - I found both films marvelous, but the established critics insisted that the Fellini film was brilliant and the Bava film (if it was mentioned at all) was trash. It has taken decades for these preconceptions and prejudices to begin to collapse. Much depends on the persuasive powers of individual critics, and there were not many valiant defenders of genre film writing in English before the 1990s. I am delighted that we now live in a time when even ALL kinds of movies can exist on Blu-ray in 2K and 4K restorations.  

2 – As a passionate advocate of Bava, what are the aspects of his films that make it so unique and timeless? And what makes Bava so appealing to you?

The first thing that appealed to me about Bava's work was its look, which was aggressively artistic and often metaphysical, in the same way that Steve Ditko's artwork for the Marvel comic "Doctor Strange" was metaphysical. As I learned more about Bava, I discovered that his family was deeply rooted in the arts, that he had come to the cinema not from the editing room but from painting. He was a filmmaker who was drawn to horror films for personal reasons of self-expression, to confront and analyze his own fears, and he did so in a very spontaneous and artistic way, in which you can see the influences of his grounding in painting, classical music and great literature. There is a great Dostoevskian streak in Mario Bava, but he also embraced great pulp writing. When I discovered his work in the early 1970s, I was astonished to learn that he was born in 1914 because his work seemed like the expression of a much younger man.

3 – Bava had good taste, which put him at odds with the Italian industrial system, as when he rejected some of the producer Alfredo Leone exploitative ideas. Can you talk about his lifelong fight to balance the market needs with his artistic interests?

Bava's great battle was that he was only permitted to make derivative films. It was all the Italian market would allow. He tried to get a horror genre started in Italy as early as 1955, but it was not until Hammer's DRACULA IL VAMPIRO became a surprise hit in Italy that he was allowed to make BLACK SUNDAY. Many of his film titles are deliberate parodies of more successful pictures - like ERCOLE AL CENTRO DELLA TERRA, which refers to JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH. But he made films so cheaply, so economically, that no one policed what he was doing - the films couldn't help but make money internationally - so he was free to be artistic, even experimental. And yet he denied this till his dying breath and said in interviews that his own movies were terrible, that they made him feel like throwing up. It was how he continued to find work and to work with some measure of freedom. 

4 – I think that “Rabid Dogs” is a true masterpiece, one of the greatest movies of it’s decade. It’s a rough cut assembled, an unfinished but powerful punch in the guts. What are your passional thoughts about it?

I agree that it's one of his best movies, even in its rough form. A fan of Bava's previous work could never have identified him as the director - it was a completely new, aggressive, reinvention of his persona. It proved that he could do anything he set his mind to. As action/crime pictures go, it is far better than anything that younger American directors like Wes Craven or John Carpenter were making at the time. 

5 – Do you believe that there is room in the modern film industry for a professional as authentic as Bava? Can you see some of that creative sparkle on any director of this generation?

Bava's "sparkle" was that he had a complete understanding of the basic mechanics of cinema. He was a complete filmmaker: he directed, wrote, photographed, edited and created the special effects for his films. He could do all of this without ever spreading himself too thin creatively, and without ever looking like an egomaniac because, if anything, he was a Garbo-like figure who hid himself away from critical discovery. Today's cinema is not about that kind of efficiency; it is more about the respect that is commanded by bigger and bigger expense and wastefulness. I do not think you can have another Mario Bava today because 1) film is no longer film, and film had a different texture - video is like painting on glass rather than on canvas, if you can appreciate the analogy, and 2) today's filmmakers tend to be informed only by recent movies, and do not make films in which you can discern the influence of all the seven arts.  

6 – What do you think about the horror movies made nowadays, films like “The Babadook”, “The Conjuring”, “The Witch”... ? Can you see Bava’s influence on some of these pictures?

I see references to Bava, but no real influence. The most exciting work being done now along his lines are the films being made by the Belgians Helene Cattet and Bruno Forzani, which acknowledge the Italian horror tradition while forging excitingly new, progressive work. 

7 – Do you remember your first contact with a movie from Bava? What movie? And try to describe, not as a movie critic, but passionately, what this movie made you feel.

I saw BLACK SABBATH (I TRE VOLTI DELLA PAURA) and KILL, BABY... KILL! (OPERAZIONE PAURA) on television in 1970, when I was 14. BLACK SABBATH I liked very much in general but it had a few moments that scared me in ways I wasn't used to being scared - as when the undead child kneels outside the door and calls for his mother, whose maternal feelings become so dominant that she murders her own husband to answer his cries. So, it was horror with an adult, sophisticated, poetical touch. There was something very deep, unusually so, going on in both of them - and OPERAZIONE PAURA really changed my life, in showing me how film could be used to express the metaphysical side of life. I wrote my first piece of professional film criticism for CINEFANTASTIQUE within a few weeks of my seeing it. And when they were over, I couldn't remember them as I remembered other movies I saw - to think about them was more like trying to remember a dream or nightmare that I'd had. 

8 – My favorite Bava’s movies are: Il rosso segno della follia / 5 bambole per la luna d'agosto. What are your favorites, and why?

I have a complex response. I believe that I TRE VOLTI DELLA PAURA and SEI DONNE PER L'ASSASSINO are his finest formal achievements. However, OPERAZIONE PAURA is my absolute favorite, for the reasons I have given - a small but very precious film. To call something a favorite is to isolate it and I prefer to regard Bava's work as a gallery of marvels rather than as a single masterpiece. I am very fond of the two you mention, which are very inventive stylistically, in ways I don't think they have yet to be fully discussed. They are continuing to reveal themselves to me, while the formal achievements feel already fully disclosed. 

9 - A question out of topic: Do you think the film critic profession is endangered? How can we combat the declining interest of people to read texts with more than three paragraphs?

There are many, many kinds of professional film critic. There are people who write about film because it's an easy living, and then there are others - like me, perhaps like you, Octavio - who write about film because it's bloody hard work! We do it because it's a way to better know ourselves and to become a more aware individual. All art is a mirror, but as in Cocteau's ORPHEE, the mirrors are portals to a connecting network that leads us to our kindred spirits, our spirit guides. Since the beginning of time, there have been sleepwalkers and the cognoscenti. Both die, and there might be arguments about which of the two spends their life more alive - because living is not just being conscious, but being active and adventurous. I guess what I am trying to say is that truly committed film critics will continue to write, regardless of publication, and there are now more outlets for such writing than ever. Perhaps this is the lesson to be taken from this lifetime - the importance of continuing to do what matters to us, what defines us, regardless of profit, regardless of reward, even regardless of an audience. But I believe that good work always finds response. 

10 – Tim, thanks a lot for you generous time. Please, send a special final message for my readers, the Brazilian cinephiles.

One of the most exciting memories of my early theater-going was being, perhaps, 10 years old and seeing a trailer for Marcel Camus' ORPHEU NEGRO. The music and colors exploded from the screen, showing me a world so different to mine that it might have been scenes from life on Neptune or Jupiter. I waited a long time for that movie to come to my local theater and it never did. For years after, I would sometimes wake up in the morning with the memory of that trailer in my consciousness. I finally saw it, many years later, for the first of many times - and thanks to it, Brazil holds a special place in my creative consciousness, particularly my musical consciousness, as I love samba and bossa nova music. I often listen to it when I write. Also, Brazil seems to be the home of an emotion that I often write from, and to which I always respond very emotionally in art, that emotion called "saudade." I feel it when I look to the cinema of Brazil or the French new wave or when I hear a song like "Telstar" by The Tornados - a feeling that these abstract things might be my truest home.

Heidi In Oz

Shirley Temple and Judy Garland, 1940.

It is fairly well known that Judy Garland was not MGM's first choice to star as Dorothy Gale in 1939's THE WIZARD OF OZ. They wanted Shirley Temple. I've sometimes pondered how different a film this beloved classic might have been with proud and pouty little Shirley leading its dances down the Yellow Brick Road, and have always thought that, while she probably could have played some scenes better than Judy did, it ultimately comes down to who could have better sold "Over the Rainbow" - and, of that, there's no question.

However, in the course of last night's random relaxation viewing, I found myself face-to-face with the ultimate reason why Shirley Temple didn't have to make THE WIZARD OF OZ. Simply put, she had already told that story at least once before - when Allan Dwan directed her in HEIDI (1937), based on Johanna Spyri's classic book.

Jean Hersholt and Shirley Temple in HEIDI.

In the early 1960s, HEIDI had been my introduction to Shirley Temple and one of the earliest movies to bait me with the similarities of a young protagonist's plight to my own. My own story was much like that of Heidi, who was placed in the care of a grandparent for reasons obscure to her, only to be plucked away again once she finally settled into some semblance of hearth and home, and placed with a foster family in whose care she was not entirely safe. It was in such a home that I first saw HEIDI on Channel 12's "Early Home Theater" circa 1962; it rolled around often and I watched it every time. Its story teased me cruelly but it was always worth it to reach its happy ending, which took Heidi back to her grandfather (Jean Hersholt).

Klara (Marcia Mae Jones) tries to walk.

Revisiting HEIDI, it is easy to see why MGM initially wanted Shirley Temple: she had already told a very similar story very well! In both films, a little girl (presumably orphaned) lives with elderly relatives until the machinations of an evil spinster leads to her being removed from her home and placed with a different family of sorts. In both cases, this family is distinguished by disability, an absent father figure, and a looming evil female driven by personal ambition. While Dorothy finds herself giving hope to a scarecrow without a brain, a tin man without a heart, and a lion sans courage, Heidi is placed as a chipper companion to Klara (Marcia Mae Jones), who is wheelchair-bound.

Klara's businessman father Herr Sesemann (Sidney Blackmer) travels a lot, leaving her in the care of the aptly-named Fraulein Rottenmeier (Mary Nash), a strict and creepy spinster who secretly aspires to become the lady of the house.

The similarities between the two films becomes still more blatant when, on Christmas Eve, Heidi is given a snow globe containing a serendipitous likeness of her grandfather's farmhouse with a miniature old man outside it, leaning into the harsh weather while carrying a bundle on his back - providing the child with a visual connection to the life stolen from her. This scene evokes the same emotions as when Dorothy uses the crystal ball in the Wicked Witch's dungeon to summon a sepia image of her Auntie Em. Due to the spitefulness of the witchy Fraulein Rottenmeier, Heidi's snow globe is smashed - a traumatic moment mirroring the shock when Auntie Em's cries are suddenly replaced and mocked by those of the Witch.

The crystal balls that torment Heidi and Dorothy.

Both films also feature climaxes in which, after the young protagonist proves successful at helping her companion(s) to become whole, she falls into the clutches of the established villainess and having to escape her domain. And though Heidi and Dorothy are separated from their respective farms by a different sort of distance, both films end with the two girls back at home. Much as Dorothy recognizes her Oz companions in her aunt and uncle's farmhands, Heidi returns to her grandfather's farm only to discover that the local parson and lovely parishioner whom she has always mistaken for a couple have finally become one.

Shirley's costume for HEIDI's Little Dutch Girl number.

As you see, there is quite a lot to connect the two films - and I haven't even mentioned the Munchkin-like costume that Shirley wears in HEIDI's musical number "In Our Little Wooden Shoes", or the costumed monkey that comes in through the Sesemanns' town house window!