"Dr. Bronner's or Dr. Strangelove?" in Slackjaw Magazine

In honor of the 60th Anniversary of Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, I have a new humor piece up in Slackjaw Magazine.

Only now does it occur to me... HARPER (1966)

Only now does it occur to me... that I'd like to take (yet another) moment to celebrate Shelley Winters, whose latter-day career was often defined by playing "women unaware they are in a sham romance with the protagonist" (LOLITA, NIGHT OF THE HUNTER) and yet she rose above this by making exuberant and affirming and actualizing choices on screen. 

 Here, in HARPER––William Goldman's attempt at a mid-60s BIG SLEEP–– Winters plays a "wilted starlet" whom Paul Newman's private eye Lew Harper seduces (while pretending to be a superfan with a Texas accent). In relation to the other characters she is meant to be kooky and astrology-crazed. The film does its best to present her as comically undesirable, going as far as to show Paul Newman suffering fatigue while attempting to be nice to her. Shelley's revenge, however, has to be this dance montage where she tries out everything she learned from Debbie Reynolds (don't get me started on Shelley's legendary appearance in the Reynolds workout VHS called "DO IT DEBBIE'S WAY" where she does her best to sabotage the whole affair) and does a frantic Frug which culminates in her spilling her drink on Paul Newman.Well, just watch it:

A+!

Six Authors in Search of a Character, Part 6: Yukio Mishima in ZYZZYVA

The sixth and final installment of my ongoing essay series in ZYZZYVA Literary Magazine is now live––the series is called "Six Authors in Search of a Character" and it explores the unusual and complicated psychology of writers portraying on screen characters they created in print. Part 6 analyzes PATRIOTISM (1966), a remarkable and disturbing experiment wherein Yukio Mishima rehearsed his own death. If you missed the first five installments of the series (on Stephen King's appearance in CREEPSHOW, Richard Wright's role in NATIVE SON, Irvine Welsh's in TRAINSPOTTING, Mickey Spillane's in THE GIRL HUNTERS, and Jacqueline Susann's in VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, you can read them all here).

"Six Authors in Search of a Character, Part 5: Jacqueline Susann" in ZYZZYVA

The fifth installment of my ongoing essay series in ZYZZYVA Literary Magazine is now live––the series is called "Six Authors in Search of a Character" and it explores the unusual and complicated psychology of writers portraying on screen characters they created in print. Part 5 analyzes Jacqueline Susann's unexpectedly meaningful cameo as a tabloid reporter in VALLEY OF THE DOLLS (1967). If you missed the first three installments of the series (on Stephen King's appearance in CREEPSHOW, Richard Wright's role in NATIVE SON, Irvine Welsh's role in TRAINSPOTTING, and Mickey Spillane's role in THE GIRL HUNTERS, you can read them all here).

"Six Authors in Search of a Character, Part 4: Mickey Spillane" in ZYZZYVA

 The fourth installment of my ongoing essay series in ZYZZYVA Literary Magazine is now live––the series is called "Six Authors in Search of a Character" and it explores the unusual and complicated psychology of writers portraying on screen characters they created in print. Part 4 analyzes Mickey Spillane's tackling of the role of his iconic private eye Mike Hammer in THE GIRL HUNTERS (1963). If you missed the first three installments of the series (on Stephen King's appearance in CREEPSHOW, Richard Wright's role in NATIVE SON, and Irvine Welsh's role in TRAINSPOTTING, you can read them here).

Only now does it occur to me... THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH (1963)

Only now does it occur to me... that Dario Argento may have tucked an incredibly subtle homage to his mentor, Mario Bava, within his 1980 film INFERNO. (INFERNO being, perhaps, one of the most Bava-influenced of all the Argentos––its opening setpiece in a flooded manse was even guest-directed by Mario Bava himself.)

First, let's go back to 1963, when Bava was directing the granddaddy of all gialli, the Hitchcock-inspired THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, which is still the only giallo I can think of that ends with a joke about a priest accidentally smoking a whole bunch of weed.

Anyway, there's a scene in THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH where our heroine (Letícia Román) sneaks away from home at midnight and into a cab which drops her off at a mysterious rendezvous in Rome

at a spooky building in a deserted plaza with an ominous fountain in the foreground. The cab pulls off and she faces the unknown alone.

At a similar moment, storywise, Argento has one of his three protagonists (the plot of INFERNO follows a sort of "hot potato-protagonist" motif), played by Eleonora Giorgi, take a midnight cab ride to a mysterious rendezvous in Rome

 

at a spooky building in a deserted plaza with an ominous fountain in the foreground. 

 The cab pulls off and she faces the unknown alone.

I don't think I would have noticed this, had I not watched both THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH and INFERNO within a short span, but it's likely the smallest tip of the hat from pupil to mentor... or perhaps it's something more. Argento fell ill with hepatitis during the making of INFERNO and directed several sequences from his hospital bed. And in addition to the opening setpiece, it is said that some of the second unit work was directed by Mario Bava––so it's possible that this bit is not actually a minor homage by Argento, but, in fact, pure, unadulterated Bava! Yes, I am a giallo nerd.

R.I.P., Dick Miller

It saddens me to report the death of the Bronx's own Dick Miller, one of the most beloved and recognizable character actors in American film history, and one who was as seemingly ubiquitous in 20th Century B-movies as car chases, rubbery monsters, or karate chops. From his star-making turn in Roger Corman's A BUCKET OF BLOOD (1959) to his cranky gun salesman in THE TERMINATOR to an "animal trainer" in Sam Fuller's WHITE DOG to roles in blaxploitation classics like TRUCK TURNER and DARKTOWN STRUTTERS to his appearances in seemingly every single Joe Dante film through 2014's BURYING THE EX, he contrasted his gruff, cantankerous, and occasionally sleazy exterior with a lovable inner life. This was a man who could lend profound, nuanced grace notes to an under-five role as a heckler, a pizza deliveryman, "man in bed," or a thankless security guard.

He had several roles that were so iconic he reprised them: BUCKET OF BLOOD's "Walter Paisley" ends up in CHOPPING MALL, THE TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE, SHAKE, RATTLE, AND ROCK, THE HOWLING, and HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD. His role in GREMLINS, "Murray Futterman," even manages to cheat death for a triumphant return in GREMLINS 2: THE NEW BATCH!

We've seen him corrupt Mark Hamill, play David Carradine's brother in a movie that already had Carradine's real-life brother in it, put down riots begun by P.J. Soles and the Ramones, play a crabby trucker who name-drops Joe Dante, swig hobo wine and share a scene with a demonic Billy Zane-as-Hunter S. Thompson, and shill for a fictionalized William Castle––he truly did it all. In his 90 years on this planet, he was in so many films (almost 200!) that there was something inherently reassuring about his presence. This was only intensified by the fact that he, like Harry Dean Stanton, seemed to remain the same age (around 50?) for nearly sixty years. Well, here's to you, Mr. Miller, and all the joy and drama and absurdity and comfort that you gave your audiences across the decades.

Only now does it occur to me... PERVERSION STORY (1969)

Only now does it occur to me... that Lucio Fulci staged one of the most outré striptease numbers to ever appear in a third-rate VERTIGO remake.

The film in question is PERVERSION STORY (a.k.a., ONE ON TOP OF THE OTHER), a clumsy, proto-giallo, trashtastic reimagining of Hitchcock's classic. It's even set in San Francisco (though, it must be said that when Fulci films in America, i.e., THE NEW YORK RIPPER, MANHATTAN BABY, he can make even the most iconic American locales feel extraordinarily Italian in flavor). The scene in question is meant to be the equivalent of "Jimmy Stewart spotting Kim Novak again as 'Judy the Shopgirl,' post-fall." It's set at a strip club on Montgomery Street, and depicts the poor man's Bardot (Marisa Mell, of DANGER: DIABOLIK) in a snow leopard-print tracksuit lounging on a motorcycle:

then stripping down to reveal a preponderance of stickers advertising European car races (such as Le Mans):

 and ultimately providing the punchline (?) of a bizarro, googly-eyed codpiece:

all while the poor man's Alain Delon (Jean Sorel, of BELLE DU JOUR) looks on, completely horrified and entranced.

It's a particular avant-garde highlight in a film which includes such beautifully wacky Italo-dialogue as "You just dropped in for a few BUMPS and GRINDS? Or maybe a few... KICKS?!" and "Bye, girls, I'm gonna go see a Mickey Mouse flick!" God bless you, Lucio Fulci.

Only now does it occur to me... THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE (1962)

Only now does it occur to me... that THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE (1962) has much to offer viewers in 2017, whether it is the perfect metaphorical image of an American flag composed of three types of caviar:

or the "Manchurian Candidate" himself, Senator John Iselin (James Gregory), a blunt, vulgar, and simple-minded instrument of Machiavellian operators (including Angela Lansbury)




who, despite being the most transparent of bullies and liars, is widely regarded as a harmless buffoon with a particular flair for riling up the intelligentsia.

Perhaps, ultimately, it is worth remembering that the Manchurian Candidate––a man who craves the spotlight and the illusion of power, no matter the cost and consequence, no matter the motives of his brutish handlers and willful enablers, a man who reduces every argument to 'us versus them' and appears incapable of deep and critical thought––this is a man who disgusts even those who regard him as a useful fool or a muscle to be flexed. In some ways, he is a tragic figure, tragic like the termite who chews through the support beam that destroys his nest, tragic like the energy magnate who befouls a world his grandchildren must inherit, tragic like the oversized child who douses his steak in ketchup while playing at sophisticate.

Only now does it occur to me... OUR MOTHER'S HOUSE (1967)

Only now does it occur to me... that Jack Clayton should certainly be in the running for "greatest ever director of child actors." Anyone who has seen THE INNOCENTS cannot fail to be impressed by the child leads (Martin Stephens and Pamela Franklin), who infuse their roles with a spooky maturity and an uncanny depth that almost make you wonder if the children have been possessed for real. [I've already reviewed THE INNOCENTS (1961), and conclude that (alongside THE CHANGELING) it's probably the greatest "ghost story" film ever made.]

Clayton further demonstrated his proficiency in working with child actors in the (flawed, but interesting) adaptation of SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES (1983) and the (Harold Pinter-penned) domestic drama, THE PUMPKIN EATER (1964). I just finished watching OUR MOTHER'S HOUSE (1967), and I have to say he sort of outdoes himself, at least as far as the directing is concerned.

I wouldn't quite call OUR MOTHER'S HOUSE a horror film, but it's more macabre than your usual drama; between its atmosphere and pedigree, I think I can safely shoehorn it into my "Melancholy Horror" genre, which I've described at length here. It has an overcast, oddly unsettling pre-autumn color palette

that carries a "back to school" nostalgia alongside a kind of bleak-hearted English emptiness.

In its own way, I'd call it a minor influence on everything from CARRIE to THE BEGUILED to THE LITTLE GIRL WHO LIVES DOWN THE LANE.

The initial set-up (without getting too spoilery) is that a deeply religious mother has been living from her sickbed, trying to raise seven children of varying ages. Consequently, they have become quite self-sufficient but have developed a complicated socio-political structure, a structure whose key anchor is their daily religious instruction, ominously called "Mother Time."

When Mother dies, the children see little reason to alter the makeup of their insulated household, and therefore decide to bury her in the backyard garden without telling anyone. What follows is a sort of domesticated and more introverted version of LORD OF THE FLIES, filled with unexpected happenings and power struggles and séances and matriarchal cults––it's top-notch wacko melodrama, and I mean that as highest praise. That any of this works at all is a testament to Clayton and his talented child actors. Of course, one of the standouts is THE INNOCENTS' Pamela Franklin,

who seizes a mantle of power and is overwhelmed by deep, pubescent insecurities. The role requires her to run a gamut of human emotion that even lifelong devotees of the craft would find daunting. She is phenomenal.

Also, Dirk Bogarde is in this, too. I won't tell you under what circumstance he appears, but he knows this film belongs to the children and he does not attempt to upstage them.

(He has top billing in this movie, simply because the true stars are little-known child actors.)

In short, if you have an interest in morbid 1960s melodrama, a master's class in child acting, or what I term melancholy horror, OUR MOTHER'S HOUSE is a curiosity worth seeking out.

Only now does it occur to me... THOROUGHLY MODERN MILLIE

Only now does it occur to me... that I must submit the following, without comment.

Film Review: X: THE MAN WITH THE X-RAY EYES (1963, Roger Corman)

Stars: 4.5 of 5.

Running Time: 79 minutes.

Tag-line: "Suddenly, he could see through clothes, flesh, and walls!"

Notable Cast or Crew:  Ray Milland (DIAL M FOR MURDER, FROGS), Diana Van der Vlis (THE SWIMMER, THE INCIDENT), Harold J. Stone (SPARTACUS, THE WRONG MAN), John Hoyt (SPARTACUS, BLACKBOARD JUNGLE), Don Rickles (CASINO, TOY STORY), Dick Miller (THE TERMINATOR, GREMLINS).  Written by Ray Russell (William Castle's ZOTZ! and MR. SARDONICUS) and Robert Dillon (PRIME CUT, 99 AND 44/100% DEAD, Castle's 13 FRIGHTENED GIRLS!).  Produced by Corman, Samuel Z. Arkoff, and James H. Nicholson.

Best One-liner:  "The city... as if it were unborn. Rising into the sky with fingers of metal, limbs without flesh, girders without stone. Signs hanging without support. Wires dipping and swaying without poles. A city unborn. Flesh dissolved in an acid of light. A city of the dead."

A Corman B-Movie with a William Castle pedigree, Lovecraftian sensibilites, and TWILIGHT ZONE-y aspirations...  and it works!   This is legitimately a good movie.  Visually imaginative, incredibly ambitious, and bleakly existential, it fulfills every aspect of a successful lower budget Sci-Fi/Horror flick.  With this small bankroll (and a headlining Ray Milland!) you can't sate those A-List appetites, but, by God, you can show them something different.  And that's precisely what X: THE MAN WITH THE X-RAY EYES ("X," for short) sets forth to do.  

Pictured: something different.

Much of X's power lies in its ability to surprise, if not shock; therefore, I'd prefer not to spell out or spoil  the wonderful enigmas in its plotting, or even the full dimension of what "X-Ray eyes" means in the context of this film.   Instead, I will share with you my five favorite elements of the picture:

#1. 1960s Doctors Being 1960s Doctors.

MAD MEN– eat yer heart out.  These 60s professionals are chain smoking in the lab (amid volatile chemicals)

and using syringes to measure out 10ccs of dry vermouth while mixing the perfect martini.

This is clearly fantastic.

#2.  Ray Milland Dance Mania.

Ray Milland is as stiff as his starched collars; he's the apotheosis of a "square."  I love this about him.  His character is a Serious man who does Serious things.  He'd wear a suit to the beach.  Is there any doubt that this character voted for Nixon in the '60 election?  None at all.  This is all very well highlighted by his attempts at dancing The Frug during a wild staff party.

I think even Tricky Dick let his hair down a little more convincingly during his appearance on LAUGH-IN.  I wholeheartedly approve.

#3.  When It Becomes a Carny Movie.

I won't divulge the circumstances, but X briefly transforms into a "Carny Movie" about mid-way through, though it doesn't last.  It does, however, grace us with Ray Milland-silk-Zodiac-kimono action:

and nobody can ever take that away from us.  Nobody.

We also have Don Rickles as a shady carnival barker in a non-comedic role:

Don Rickles' face: Huggable or slappable?  You decide.

#4.  Dick Miller.

There can apparently never be enough Dick Miller.  The man pops up everywhere.  Here, he's an uncredited "heckler" and he gives the bit part a little more depth than you'd expect.  He's a three-dimensional heckler, if you will.  His heckling is rooted in lost love and self-hatred and fear.  He's a heckler with a backstory, dammit.

#5.  The bold imagery.

I love these 60s colors, the trippy effects, the madness, the sadness, the kaleidoscope of beauty and pain and forbidden knowledge.  It's a dark and cosmic film, and I stand by it.  Four and a half stars.

–Sean Gill

2014 HALLOWEEN COUNTDOWN– OVERFLOW!

1.  FROM DUSK TILL DAWN 2: TEXAS BLOOD MONEY (1999, Scott Spiegel)

2.  MARK OF THE VAMPIRE (1935, Tod Browning)

3.  FULL MOON HIGH (1981, Larry Cohen)

4.  EIGHT-LEGGED FREAKS (2002, Ellory Elkayem)

5.  MASTERS OF HORROR: WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM (2007, Tom Holland)

6.  STEPHEN KING ON SONS OF ANARCHY (2010, Bill Gierhart)

7.  THE INITIATION (1984, Larry Stewart)

8.  MUTANTS (2008, Amir Valinia)

9.  JAWS 2 (1978, Jeannot Szwarc)

10.  THE PREMATURE BURIAL (1962, Roger Corman)

11.  DRACULA 3D (2012, Dario Argento)

12.  HALLOWEEN (1978, John Carpenter)

13. ...

Only now does it occur to me... THE PREMATURE BURIAL

Only now does it occur to me... that while the clear centerpiece of Roger Corman's THE PREMATURE BURIAL is the ridiculous scene where the gleefully nutty Ray Milland shows off his custom-made precautions against being buried alive in his extensively pimped-out tomb:

The 'ole "tools in the collapsible coffin."


The 'ole "hidden foodstuffs and secret passsageways."


The 'ole "surprise rope ladder and self-congratulatory raised eyebrow."

the hidden gem of the film is a small bit whereupon Milland imagines that a gravedigger, played by a young Dick Miller, has come to bury him alive!

Somehow, young Dick Miller looks exactly like old Dick Miller.

As someone who grew up watching Miller in stuff like THE TERMINATOR, EERIE INDIANA, GREMLINS, and every other Joe Dante movie under the sun, it's a joy to return to his Roger Corman roots and see the 'ole back catalogue.  

As for the movie– it's decent.  Not nearly as good as the other (Vincent Price)/Edgar Allan Poe films that came out of American International, but a fine spooky time.  I do, however, highly recommend the Milland/Corman collaboration X: THE MAN WITH THE X-RAY EYES, which will hopefully be the subject of a forthcoming review!

2014 HALLOWEEN COUNTDOWN

1.  FROM DUSK TILL DAWN 2: TEXAS BLOOD MONEY (1999, Scott Spiegel)

2.  MARK OF THE VAMPIRE (1935, Tod Browning)

3.  FULL MOON HIGH (1981, Larry Cohen)

4.  EIGHT-LEGGED FREAKS (2002, Ellory Elkayem)

5.  MASTERS OF HORROR: WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM (2007, Tom Holland)

6.  STEPHEN KING ON SONS OF ANARCHY (2010, Bill Gierhart)

7.  THE INITIATION (1984, Larry Stewart)
8.  MUTANTS (2008, Amir Valinia)
9.  JAWS 2 (1978, Jeannot Szwarc)
10. ...

Only now does it occur to me... THE MIRACLE WORKER

Only now does it occur to me...  that the nearly nine-minute knock-down drag-out brawl between Annie Sullivan and Helen Keller (as the former attempts to pierce the abyss and teach the latter table manners) is probably the most brutal, drawn-out skirmish between stubborn personalities... until the spectacular six-minute fistfight from THEY LIVE.

The scenes are both so brilliantly blocked, staged, and acted (in THE MIRACLE WORKER, Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke directed by Arthur Penn; in THEY LIVE, "Rowdy" Roddy Piper and Keith David directed by John Carpenter) that they really stick out in one's mind as special, a beautiful fusion of stage and screen sensibilities.


The actors are permitted to reach into a deeply primal well as the scene is simplified and streamlined into two visceral, battling motivations:  "Eat with a utensil" & "I refuse!", and "Put on the glasses!" & "No!," respectively.


In each case, words take a back seat to action, and the result is raw, powerful, and riveting.  The scenes' length plays a role, too: as the characters clash beyond the point of reason and into pure obstinance/force of will, a dark humor emerges that somehow only intensifies the scene.  I think any director or actor should find a lot to learn here.