Only now does it occur to me... THE WICKER MAN (1973)

Only now does it occur to me... that perennial recording artist Cher is clearly Christopher Lee's spirit animal.

(As evidenced by these screencaps from the pagan revelries at the heart of THE WICKER MAN and THE SONNY AND CHER COMEDY HOUR.)

It's even more astonishing that this attachment was not confined to the 1970s. In fact, late '90s "Believe"-era Cher exerted a notable influence on THE LORD OF THE RINGS.

Is it any wonder that both went on to inspire macabre vintage toys?

Feel free to debate the cultural (and cosmological) significance in the comments section.

Only now does it occur to me... CIRCLE OF IRON

Only now does it occur to me...  um... where to begin?  At the beginning, the middle, or the end?  Truly they are all the same, because the beginning is the middle as well as the end, and of course there never was a beginning, middle, or end.  Like a circle.  Of Iron.

So... CIRCLE OF IRON is a quasi-mystical martial arts action epic (based on a story by Bruce Lee and James Coburn!) that harvests that fertile ground where "Kung Fu-Samuel Beckett" and "Bible-themed community theater" intersect.  Don't believe me?  Here's Eli Wallach soaking in a tub in the middle of the desert, trying to dissolve himself in oil to prove a metaphysical point:

Samuel Beckett's lesser known martial arts play, WAITING FOR G'DEATH-BLOW.

Here's Christopher Lee, offering us a flower, donning a resewn pillowcase headpiece, and instructing us about the nature of existence:

They easily could have gone with this instead of the "modified 90s Cher" look for Saruman.

Here's a wacky-wigged David Carradine (who plays–count 'em– four roles!), ready to rumble and tearing off his robe to reveal a man-bra/S&M harness made out of Treasure Trolls' jewels:

Also– he's kind of pulling it off!

Here's Roddy McDowall, possibly wearing a woman's spandex leggings as a hat, and overseeing some sort of wizard kumite:

I think now we should call him "Rowdy Roddy" McDowall.

What a day for a kumite.

And, in a possible nod to Roddy's role in the PLANET OF THE APES films, this universe also has kung fu monkey men:

Budget was an issue.

And we mustn't forget the glorious Jeff Cooper as "Cord," the seeker of knowledge, whom you would never guess was on THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS and DALLAS:

In the end, it's BLOODSPORT at a monastery, equal parts drive-in trash and Zen metaphysics, the no man's land between watching EL TOPO and being trapped in conversation with your crazy uncle.  And for that, CIRCLE OF IRON, I salute you.

Only now does it occur to me... THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN

Only now does it occur to me...  that if William Castle had ever directed a James Bond film, it definitely should have been THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN.

What would the gimmick have been?  Flying skeletons?  A full-on working fun house in the lobby?  13 GHOSTS-style Scare-o-manga-vision?   A free novelty rubber nipple with admission? (Christopher Lee's character Scaramanga has a notable extra nipple.) Something to do with a gang of little people at the theater?

Of course, with the latter, I'm alluding to the irrepressible Hervé Villechaize (FANTASY ISLAND, FORBIDDEN ZONE), whose measured performance as "Nick Nack" reaches levels of subtlety previously reached in a Bond movie only by Bruce Glover in DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER.  I'm going to choose to believe that the incongruous beauty of a little person in a Bond flick is what sparked the imagination of the makers of FOR Y'UR HEIGHT ONLY, the first of many glorious Weng Weng Agent 00 movies from the 1980s.

As far as Bond flicks from the Moore era go, this is one of– if not the– best.  I have some fond memories from childhood of seeing this on TV, and though that may color my opinion, it's got a taut storyline, a great villain in Christopher Lee's titular assassin,

those great "Dark Carnival" sets on Lee's private island, a solid 70s Bond girl in Britt Ekland (best known for THE WICKER MAN and being Peter Sellers' wife)

and it even has Bond doing an embarrassing  loop-de-loop bridge jump like something out of a DUKES OF HAZZARD episode or a Burt Reynolds movie, complete with a slide whistle sound effect.  Whew!

[Also, despite the fine opening song collaboration between John Barry and Lulu, I can't help but think Alice Cooper's unused title track would have been a nicer (and more rockin') fit.  That is all.]

Film Review: SLEEPY HOLLOW (1999, Tim Burton)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 105 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Johnny Depp, Christina Ricci, Miranda Richardson (THE CRYING GAME, THE HOURS), Michael Gambon (THE LIFE AQUATIC, THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE, AND HER LOVER), Christopher Walken (MCBAIN), Casper Van Dien (STARSHIP TROOPERS), Richard Griffiths (WITHNAIL & I, THE HISTORY BOYS), Ian McDiarmid (RETURN OF THE JEDI, DRAGONSLAYER), Michael Gough (TROG, Alfred in Burton's BATMAN), Christopher Lee, Lisa Marie (ED WOOD, MARS ATTACKS!), and Martin Landau (NORTH BY NORTHWEST, ED WOOD). Music by Danny Elfman. Executive produced by Francis Ford Coppola and Larry J. Franco! Based on the short story by Washington Irving. Written by Kevin Yagher (makeup designer on NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREETs 2-4, Chucky creator for CHILD'S PLAY, and TALES FROM THE CRYPT collaborator) and Andrew Kevin Walker (SE7EN, BRAINSCAN).
Tag-line: "Heads Will Roll."
Best one-liner: "YAHHH!" (said by Christopher Walken).

With ten years of hindsight steering the way, I believe I now possess the proper distance to proclaim that SLEEPY HOLLOW was Tim Burton's last great film. At the time, it felt like something of a letdown- coupled with MARS ATTACKS! and his burgeoning, reckless use of CGI, it seemed as if the man was on a downward spiral. But in (PLANET OF THE APES & CHOCOLATE FACTORY) retrospect, the CGI comes across as nearly prudent; the morbid sense of humor, quite clever; and the thrills and chills strike the perfect notes of an R-rated, 90's retread of THE ADVENTURES OF ICHABOD AND MR. TOAD.

Johnny Depp haplessly prances about this film: exuding inherent worthlessness, babbling reassurances to no one in particular, and fainting at the drop of a hat.


At times it feels like a more wimpish MURDER, SHE WROTE episode- albeit one with buckets of gore- and indeed, one of Johnny's inspirations for the role was none other than Angela Lansbury. The other was Basil Rathbone, and he constructs a hero that is the ANTI-Sherlock Holmes, one who'll pour chemicals on the ground and yabber scientific nonsense to himself, not to- *voila* -solve the crime, but to buy himself a little time as he contemplates his awkward exit strategy. Some have complained that Burton, writer (and makeup legend) Kevin Yagher, and script doctor Tom Stoppard stray too far from the original Irving story, but instead we have a work that does its damndest to integrate every bit of macabre Americana mythology from The Headless Horseman to iron-fisted (or is that Iron Maiden'd?) Puritans to witches and witchcraft, and I, for one, think it works. Hell, the windmill from FRANKENSTEIN even makes an appearance!

The atmosphere is exquisite, too-

Elfman's dark and rumbling score; the misty, overcast New England forest trails; flickering silhouettes cast by a ramshackle oil lamps...
And it's great to see bit parts from legends like Christoper Lee, Martin Landau (who gets his chance to run through the cornfield á la NORTH BY NORTHWEST), a dunderheaded Jeffrey Jones,

a fossilized Michael Gough, and Christopher Walken (a convincing force of sheer, Hessian malevolence, straight from the pit- his sharpened teeth and unruly hair nearly steal the show!).

On the women's side, we have a venomous she-devil played by Miranda Richardson, a waifish Christina Ricci as the love interest,

and an ethereal Lisa Marie as a motherly force (and consider the theory that Burton's decline perfectly coincides with the deterioration oft his relationship with Lisa Marie!- compare to Godard/Karina, George & Marcia Lucas, et al.). Anyway, you sort of get the idea that Burton pitched the entire project as an excuse to put ladies in cleavage-intensifying corsets, but I guess that's okay, too.

Four stars.

-Sean Gill

Side note: Watch for 'Large Marge' from PEE WEE making a (completely theoretical) cameo appearance!

Film Review: BEAT GIRL (1959, Edmond T. Gréville)

Stars: 2.5 of 5.
Running Time: 99 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: David Farrar (BLACK NARCISSUS, THE 300 SPARTANS), Noëlle Adam (WOMAN IN CHAINS, CRAZY IN THE NOODLE), Christopher Lee (Hammer's DRACULA series, THE WICKER MAN, THE THREE MUSKETEERS), Gillian Hills (BLOW-UP, THE KILLER WORE GLOVES), Oliver Reed (THE DEVILS, TOMMY), Peter McEnery (VICTIM, RASPUTIN). Music by John Barry (GOLDFINGER, BODY HEAT, HOWARD THE DUCK).
Tag-lines: "My Mother was a stripper...I want to be a stripper too!"
Best one-liner: "Next week - boom! - the world goes up in smoke. And what's the score? Zero!"
AKA: WILD FOR KICKS

To say that BEAT GIRL is a good movie would be a lie. BEAT GIRL is not a good movie. And it's the sort of 'not good' movie that connoisseurs of the 'Something Weird' catalog will be all too familiar with: tedious pseudo-exploitation. But by and large, these films are bringing something to the table amidst the intolerable line-readings and murky film-to-VHS-to-DVD transfers. Allow me to explain:

Ostensibly successful architect Paul Linden (David Farrar) returns from France having snared a young wife Nichole (Noëlle Adam), much to the chagrin of his daughter Jennifer (Gillian Hills).

Paul's dream apparently is to possess this chippy wife and build some monstrous concrete complex called 'CITY 2000,' where everything is quiet, and you can feel like you're alone even in the midst of the teeming masses, if you can dig that.

His darling daughter Jennifer thinks that noise is strictly for squares and she hangs with a rough n' tumble crowd of beatnik boppers. She won't give Nichole the time of day till she learns that she used to be...a stripper! Drawn to and repulsed by the curious world of insalubrious adult sexuality (represented aptly by oily club owner Christopher Lee!), one thing leads to another, and- as they were wont to say in the 50's- sex, sin, and shame rear their ugly heads.

CHRISTOPHER LEE WILL PUT THE MOVES ON YOU...


...AND NOW 66.66% OF THIS FAMILY ARE STRIPPERS.

Now let's talk about the acting here for a minute. Aside from Christopher Lee (and a surprise guest star I'll discuss in a moment), it is absolutely contemptible. We're talkin' lifeless, D.O.A. line readings- and lots of 'em. Characterization? What is that? We are talkin' dullsville, Daddy-o.

Most of it emanates from our two blonde-coiffed leads- a couple of bargain-basement, gutter Bardots who are so scuzzy, they'd make Loni Anderson look like Grace Kelly. What's up with this unrighteous jive, BEAT GIRL?

"I served with Loni Anderson, I knew Loni Anderson, Loni Anderson was a friend of mine, and Burt's and Dom's. Baby, you are no Loni Anderson."

But the men are by no means getting off the hook here– take a gander at this Elvis-impersonatin' tuff guy:

I propose that even from this solitary freeze frame, you can imagine what discordant anti-musical sufferings accompany this boy and his guitar within the context of the film.

I was nearly ready to agitate some gravel when a schweet bar scene comes on. Now this was made back in a time where if a bar was called 'The Grotto,' it was a fucking grotto- a goddamned cave! Now, what's that music?... Dig them killer-diller riffs and groovy licks! Those cats are in orbit! Well, razz my berries- that's the 'John Barry Seven' with some thick, dissonant, radioactive vibes! I'll just guzzle some foam, kick back and rel– WAIT, WHUTTT? Who is that young, plaid-shirt-wearing cad dancing AT our feeble heroine?

It's young Ollie Reed!!! Sure, he's credited as 'Plaid Shirt' and he only gets a line or two, but he is takin' it for all it's worth. And...uh... I'm pretty sure he's inebriated (which ought to go without saying). He begins the scene rip-roarin' drunk and dancin' up a storm. As it progresses we see him go from merry to soused to shitfaced to just plain wasted:

Keep fighting the good fight, Mr. Reed. We'll never forget you... Plaid Shirt.

And speaking of lackluster character names, the unfortunate Anthony Singleton is billed as 'Green Pants'- an especially demeaning moniker given that this is a black and white film. Best of luck in the future, Mr. Singleton- I'd honor you with a freeze frame if I had any idea which character you played.

So, in the end, BEAT GIRL proves itself occasionally capable of holding one's attention. I suppose I could talk about the beat movement, social mores, counterculture trends, and the like, but I must admit the film has me feeling a bit like this drummer: capped, dragged, and beat.


-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE THREE MUSKETEERS (1973, Richard Lester)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 105 minutes.
Tag-line: ". . . One for All and All for Fun!"
Notable Cast or Crew: Michael York (CABARET, AUSTIN POWERS), Oliver Reed (REVOLVER, THE DEVILS), Richard Chamberlain (SHOGUN, Cannon's KING SOLOMON'S MINES), Faye Dunaway (NETWORK, BONNIE AND CLYDE), Jean-Pierre Cassel (ARMY OF SHADOWS, THE DISCREET CHARM OF THE BOURGEOISIE), Geraldine Chaplin (DR. ZHIVAGO, HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS), Sybil Danning (BLOOD FEAST, MALIBU EXPRESS), Frank Finlay (THE PIANIST, LIFEFORCE), Christopher Lee (THE WICKER MAN, THE CRIMSON PIRATE), Charlton Heston (IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS, TOUCH OF EVIL), Raquel Welch (ONE MILLION YEARS B.C., MOTHER, JUGS, & SPEED), Joss Ackland (LETHAL WEAPON 2, THE APPLE).
Best one-liner: "Now, that man in his time has insulted me, broken my father's sword, had me clubbed to the ground, laid violent hands on the woman I love! He is inconvenient."

Are you ready for House of Bourbon-era swashbucklery? Are you ready for one for all, and all for fun? Are you ready for THE THREE MUSKETEERS? Hell yes, you are. Allow me to familiarize you with the players–

We're talkin' foppy– but still blood-curdlingly sinister– Christopher Lee... with an eyepatch.

As Rochefort, "the cardinal's living blade," he unfortunately spends most of his time exuding one-eyed menace from the sidelines, but I suspect they're just priming us for some unhinged cutlass-slashin', scimitar-gashin' Chris Lee action in part two.

We're talkin' live action animal chess, a monkey riding a dog, and other such buffooneries that exist solely for the amusement of Louis XIII, who's played by arthouse legend Jean-Pierre Cassel.

Somewhere, Peter Greenaway is wringing his hands in a mixture of jealousy and wonderment.


Is that exquisite headpiece constructed of Reynolds wrap?

We're talkin' Charlton Heston as Cardinal Richelieu, sportin' a goatee that doesn't quit, wearin' extravagant furry duds, and playin' Louis XIII like a piano- at least until a certain four flies in the ointment come to take the starch out of his 'stache and the swagger out of his step.

Heston's a surprisingly serviceable Richelieu, and occasionally you're struck by the idea that Heston might even be having fun beneath his uptight exterior and intricate vestments. I'd go as far as to say that he holds his own alongside other notable Richelieus, played by the likes of Vincent Price and Tim Curry.

We're talkin' Geraldine Chaplin as Anna of Austria, exploring the subtleties of film-acting more skillfully with her eyes alone than most actors can with their entire form.

Also of note: neckpiece.

We're talkin' a knock-down, drag-out, high-kicks-in-a-bustle, hair-pin cat-fight between a pre-NETWORK Faye Dunaway and a post-MYRA BRECKINRIDGE Raquel Welch, which is clearly worth the price of admission alone.


YAHHH

And all of this is orchestrated by Palm d'or-winning (THE KNACK...AND HOW TO GET IT), hit or miss (from PETULIA to SUPERMAN III) director Richard Lester, whose first claim to fame was the well-choreographed antics of another Fab Four in A HARD DAY'S NIGHT. Which reminds me- I haven't even yet touched upon our titular, devil-may-care, lion-hearted sword-swishers!

We've got Richard Chamberlain as Aramis the ladykiller, if you will; Frank Finlay as Porthos, the slave to fashion; and Oliver Reed as Athos, the drunk. Or perhaps it's Drunk Oliver Reed as Athos. It's difficult to tell sometimes. In fact, from the very first time we see him onscreen, he's chugging away.

Oliver Reed enjoys living in the era of the House of Bourbon.

Again- did Oliver Reed refuse to put down his booze, whereupon Richard Lester had to find a more historically-accurate receptacle, or was this in the script from the beginning? (Yes, I know it was in the script.)

One of my favorite Oliver Reed moments in the film involves him stealing a great shank of lamb from a restaurant while his compatriots stage a scuffle. Reed nonchalantly stuffs the honkin' leg of meat into his costume while maintaining a remarkable level of dignity.

Michael York strides in as D'Artagnan, exuding likability and naiveté, and imbues our trio of fallow swordsmen with purpose.

Unfortunately, Michael York's career would lie fallow for some time following these films.

Nearly everything in this production is top notch, from the verbal banter to the spectacular set design (crawling with hidden rooms and secret passageways) to the elaborate period costumes to the acrobatics and fight choreography. (Said choreography done by master swashbuckler William Hobbs.) I'd even say that it remains a great influence on everything from PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN to the CREMASTER series.

There are a few moments when Lester can't help himself, and things get perhaps a little too zany,

but as in A HARD DAY'S NIGHT or HELP!, even the most ill-conceived sequence goes down a lot easier when there's talented players and a tangible charm. (Not sure I can say the same for SUPERMAN III.)

Four stars.

Production note: The film was famously shot simultaneously with its sequel, THE FOUR MUSKETEERS (in a strategem worthy of Richilieu, the producers tricked the actors into thinking they were filming one, exceptionally long film). But despite the initial deception, Lester and most of the cast would even revisit the material once more in 1989's THE RETURN OF THE MUSKETEERS.

-Sean Gill

Junta Juleil's Summer '10 Movie Series
1. HELL IN THE PACIFIC (1968, John Boorman)
2. KUFFS (1992, Bruce A. Evans)
3. THE OUTFIT (1973, John Flynn)

4. FOR Y'UR HEIGHT ONLY (1981, Eddie Nicart)

5. A*P*E (1976, Paul Leder)

6. BLIND FURY (1989, Philip Noyce)
7. HIS KIND OF WOMAN (1951, John Farrow)
8. HIGH SCHOOL U.S.A. (1983, Rod Amateau)
9. DR. JEKYLL AND MS. HYDE (1995, David Price)
10. MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL (1997, Clint Eastwood)
11. 1990: BRONX WARRIORS (1982, Enzo G. Castellari)
12. FALLING DOWN (1993, Joel Schumacher)
13. TOURIST TRAP (1979, David Schmoeller)
14. THE THREE MUSKETEERS (1973, Richard Lester)
15. ...