Only now does it occur to me... BLUEBEARD (1972)

Only now does it occur to me... somehow, by putting a drunken Richard Burton into what is essentially a Vincent Price role––playing "Bluebeard," with an actual blue spray-painted beard, in a campy Technicolor French-Italian-German-Hungarian co-production––

 

that you could end up with something that's quite so... mediocre.

This is an odd duck. It's directed by former Golden Age Hollywood player Edward Dmytryk (CROSSFIRE, THE CAINE MUTINY, and MURDER, MY SWEET), has a haunting soundtrack by Ennio Morricone (which is very reminiscent of his work on DUCK, YOU SUCKER, completed one year prior), and brilliant cinematography (Gábor Pogány),

 

art direction (Tamás Vayer ), 

 

and set decoration (Boldizsár Simonka), 

 

by a trio of talented Hungarians who would rarely find work outside of their own country. It occasionally evokes shades of Mario Bava, Hammer horror flicks, and Nicolas Roeg's work for Roger Corman. All of this is good.

However, the screenplay (by Dmytryk and three Italian collaborators, based on the dark fairy tale but updated for a 1930s setting) is an absolute train-wreck: unfocused, pretentious, and meandering. Or perhaps it's more like a messy bird attack, ordered by a lethargic Richard Burton on his wife who just blew a raspberry at him?

 

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm making this look better than it is. There is artistic merit here, and, hell, there is camp merit, too, but it keeps getting dragged down into a morass of Italo skin-flickery and wannabe arthouse pomp. Like the Nazi subplot that it can't quite support.

(That's right, this Bluebeard is also an Austrian Nazi––and the cheapjack scaffolding this film provides can't come close to bearing that historical load.)

So while the director and writers believe it is something closer to CABARET or MEPHISTO, and its design team believes it is something closer to THE ABOMINABLE DR. PHIBES or BLOOD AND BLACK LACE, and its star believes that it's his naptime (between his morning tipple and his happy hour), I think the producers––with their reliance on tawdry Eurosleaze thrills––think they're making a Tinto Brass or Joe D'Amato flick. Whew.

 Also, on a semi-related note, there are way more musical numbers in this than I would have imagined.

Oh, and Raquel Welch kinda sorta plays a nun. Maybe Ken Russell should have directed this. 

Speaking of Ken Russell, there's a ridiculous phallic moment where one of Bluebeard's wives cheats on him and then makes the mistake of falling asleep, naked, entwined with her lover beneath a rhino horn antler-chandelier. Which Burton gleefully unleashes upon the couple, impaling them.

And even though it's set in the 1930s, I guess Joey Heatherton is playing "Shirley Partridge" from THE PARTRIDGE FAMILY?

Damn, there I go again, making this look better than it is. Anyway, just go watch Catherine Breillat's BLUEBEARD instead.

Only now does it occur to me... V: THE SERIES, "THE SANCTION" (1x5) (1984)

Only now does it occur to me... that I've finally discovered the "real" Cobra Kai. Allow me to explain.

If you're new to the "V" series, you could start by reading my initial post on the subject which, though it is eventually hijacked by a happening known as "the Nut Slide of Doom," lays out the basic reasons why you should watch the first two miniseries and then stop before you get this far (to V: THE SERIES).

To recap: the V saga tells the story of the invasion of Earth by fascist aliens (who are actually rodent-snacking reptiles in disguise) who intend to rob our planet of its resources and enslave/eat our population. Some humans collaborate with them and become Vichy-style puppets and/or Hitler Youth. Others join the resistance, engaging in guerrilla warfare against the technologically superior Visitors. This story is skillfully told in V: THE ORIGINAL MINISERIES (1983). It is enjoyably continued as the actioner V: THE FINAL BATTLE (1984). By the time we get to V: THE SERIES, its gutted budget and watered-down purpose have rendered it virtually unwatchable. (Meanwhile, the hair has gotten bigger and the costumes have become more ridiculous, so the "so-bad-it's-good" aficionados can still have a little fun.)

Jane Badler is the best: DYNASTY meets XANADU, man

 

The plot of this episode follows "Sean," son of Marc Singer's "Mike Donovan" (the BEASTMASTER himself, and the perpetrator of the aforementioned Nut Slide of Doom), as he continues his indoctrination as a member of the Visitors' youth program. Sean is now played by Nicky Katt (DAZED AND CONFUSED, THE LIMEY, THE BURBS), a longtime character actor and terrific smartass, who is at this point still a literal child.

Presumably because THE KARATE KID had come out that summer, this episode features the Visitors attempting to re-educate their human wards at a karate dojo.

 

 They introduce a new character to do so: "Klaus" (Thomas Callaway), who is equal parts "Jaws" from James Bond, random leather daddy, and "Kreese" from THE KARATE KID.

He is a sadist with a detachable hand which unveils a chain/whip extension. It's a whole thing. Anyway, he runs this evil dojo,

which is, for all intents and purposes, "Cobra Kai" with more space Nazis.

Now, the visual pun here is that the Visitors––who, remember, are reptiles in human disguises––are pretty close to cobras themselves, therefore, making this a technically more "authentic" Cobra Kai than the one featured in THE KARATE KID!

Anyway, this plotline comes to a close when Nicky Katt punches out (eventual KARATE KID alumnus) Michael Ironside and throws in his lot with the Visitors for good.

 

This does provide us with the excellent––if extremely improbable––visual of Ironside getting his ass kicked by a stone-cold child. (Who strikes first, strikes hard, and shows no mercy.)

I guess they did teach him some effective moves down at the fascist snake-man dojo. Uh, Kreese would be proud?

Only now does it occur to me... V: THE FINAL BATTLE (1984)

Only now does it occur to me... well, before I get ahead of myself, I'd be remiss if I didn't say a few words about the "V" franchise. An anti-fascist alien invasion adventure inspired by Sinclair Lewis' IT CAN'T HAPPEN HERE and John Steinbeck's THE MOON IS DOWN, Kenneth Johnson's V: THE ORIGINAL MINISERIES (1983) is a close-to-perfect three hours of television. It's potent enough to have been an inspiration to great artists (John Carpenter's THEY LIVE), popcorn flicks (INDEPENDENCE DAY), 

 

and dangerous fools (David Icke's whackadoo reptilian theories) alike. I'd say without reservation that it's one of the best sci-fi properties of the 1980s, which is obviously saying a lot. It's got everything from Robert Englund playing a lovable, post-MORK AND MINDY "gentle dullard" alien 

 

to Jane Badler playing the manipulative alien Nazi version of "DYNASTY meets XANADU." 

 

It's a rare breed of miniseries, and one which forced an important question upon the Reagan-era mainstream (which has since been "answered," for all of us, in one way or another): whose side will you choose when the Nazis come?

Then, there was a sequel––V: THE FINAL BATTLE. Made largely without Kenneth Johnson's participation, there's way more action, way less diversity, and fewer instances of social commentary, but it's still fairly solid TV, and you can really see its influence on subsequent sci-fi actioners, from ALIENS to TOTAL RECALL. Part of this is because the inimitable Michael Ironside joins the cast as the ex-CIA mercenary "Ham Tyler." 

 

His one-liners feel somewhat out of place on the heels of such heavy dramatic material, but that ain't Ironside's fault.

 

It was on this project that Michael Ironside met his real-life best friend (and best man at his wedding), the musician/actor Mickey Jones.

Anyway, I guess you could say this is all a prelude to one of the greatest/weirdest happenings in television history, a bit of fight choreography I can only describe as the "Nut Slide of Doom." It's the best stunt JCVD never did. Basically, a resistance leader––played by Marc Singer (THE BEASTMASTER himself)––decides to take out one of the alien Visitors by sliding off the hood of a spaceship and knocking the alien in the face with his crotch. That this tawdry moment happens in part 2 of a project which began with such lofty political, social, and historical aims does not invalidate the fact that it objectively rules. 

See for yourself:

 

And I'm not alone here. 

 

 

When V (again, without Kenneth Johnson) was turned into a weekly TV series, they chose this exact moment––and scored by somber synth music, no less!––to cap the opening credits sequence. They even freeze frame it. Don't believe me? Just watch.

 

Anyway. I just wanted to make sure that all of you were aware of this. And I'll be returning to V: THE SERIES quite soon for even more harebrained observations. (For the record, V: THE SERIES is terrible, and if you decide to enjoy the saga, do yourself a favor and quit at the end of V: THE FINAL BATTLE.)

Only now does it occur to me... DR. MABUSE––THE GAMBLER (1922)

Only now does it occur to me... a few thoughts about DR. MABUSE––THE GAMBLER, a criminally underrated work in the Fritz Lang oeuvre. 

While, like some epics of the era, it doesn't quite have enough plot to justify it's four-and-a-half hour runtime, it's still a dizzying, edgy roller-coaster of pure Weimar id, German Expressionistic fantasy, and creeping zeitgeist horror. Probably better translated as "DR. MABUSE––THE PLAYER" (in German, "spieler" refers to game-player, gambler, actor, and puppeteer, and Dr. Mabuse is certainly all four). 

Mabuse (Rudolph Klein-Rogge, the mad doctor of METROPOLIS) is a hypnotist/gangster/psychologist/master-of-disguise/general trickster/proto-Batman villain whose schemes have enveloped most of Berlin. The great film theorist Siegfried Kracauer saw Mabuse as among a "procession of tyrants" in post-WWI German film who foreshadowed the rise of Hitler.

Fritz Lang is really at the height of his powers here: in his staging and imagery, in his use of texture and dimension, in his contrast between stillness and motion––whether he's depicting a the mass hallucination of a Bedouin procession in a Berlin theater:

Otherworldly séances:

Powerful tableaus that resemble Renaissance paintings:

The expressionistic/Bauhaus interior design of Weimar's 1%:

For all its stylish exaggerations, it's an important time capsule of the era.

Decadent Weimar nightlife realness:

Which includes one unforgettably over-the-top display of insanity, whereupon a pas de trois commences between a dancer and two giant, terrifying (papier-mâché?) heads with exceptionally phallic noses and suspiciously testicular cheekbones.

These dudes seem to like the production design just fine

Then, in a visual worthy of Ken Russell, she ascends the noses and dances atop them until they climax with a "sneeze" that, incidentally, blows away most of her outfit and leaves her with

a creepy baby...

Hot damn, Fritz! Legitimately one of the more unexpected sequences in a silent––or any––film.

Finally, I must note the majesty of  Mabuse's descent into madness, which definitely prefigures the Moloch sequence from METROPOLIS. Here, pieces of industrial equipment are reimagined as quasi-mythical monstrosities which come to life and torment the much-deserving Dr. Mabuse.

It's also worth noting that this is the state in which we find Mabuse at the beginning of THE TESTAMENT OF DR. MABUSE (1933), Fritz Lang's brilliant sequel, which I also cannot recommend enough.