Oct 111973
 
one reel

John Blake (Robert Culp), discontent with city life, takes his wife (Samantha Eggar) and moves to his great-grandfather’s ruined country mansion.  But it is haunted and something doesn’t want him there.

Quick Review: Not so much a completed film, but a series of scenes edited together with no concern for narrative structure, the randomly named A Name For Evil is a ghost story with almost no ghost activity.  Blake is delusional, seeing his wife as she once was, which makes it hard to determine what is meant to be real.  Most of the film is Blake and his wife bickering or Blake walking around the grounds of the semi-haunted house.  If you are looking for a film about walking in a big yard, this is the film for you.  There is also the sudden shift to a hippie sing-along and the accompanying orgy, neither of  which fit the film, but are an improvement over the bickering scenes.  I really expected the ghost to do something at the climax, but he didn’t.  Depending on how you feel about a naked Robert Culp, there is either nothing, or very little of interest in A Name For Evil.

 Ghost Stories, Reviews Tagged with:
Oct 091973
 
three reels

Innocent Lila (Cheryl Smith), raised by the local preacher (Richard Blackburn), receives a letter stating that her gangster father is dying and wants to see her to gain her forgiveness, but she must come alone. The letter was actually composed by Lemora (Lesley Gilb), a vampire, who controls the town of Asteroth and is holding Lila’s father. The journey will force Lila to confront lewd ticket-takers, offensive bums, forest undead, and her own desires.

Very European in flavor, Lemora is less a horror film, and more a dark fantasy. It’s a dreamlike fairy tale. Little Red Riding Hood, in all her childhood glory, goes to grandmother’s house and meets a lot of wolves, sometimes as lecherous mortals, sometimes as raving zombies, and sometimes as stimulating vampires.  It becomes clear that in the world of temptation, depravity, and human weakness, Lemora may be the best thing going. Innocence is not a fine quality to keep.  Lila’s journey is her sexual and sensual awakening.

Don’t look for that “sexual awakening” to produce any graphic nudity.  This is a PG movie. Much has been made of the lesbianism in the “bathing scene,” but that’s usually from people who haven’t seen it; metaphor is all you’ll find in Lemora.

Writer/Director Richard Blackburn claims the movie is about repression.  Critics say it’s about the loss of innocence.  The statements are close, but Blackburn was going for more of a triumphant realization, not a sad bow to reality.  He comes close.

There’s a lot to like about Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural.  It has a strong mood, an unusual setting for a vampire film (southern United States of the 1930s), and a stunning lead in Cheryl “Rainbeaux” Smith (who went into exploitation flicks and died at age 47).  It isn’t just another vampire film, but something unusual.

However, the low budget drags in down.  A few more dollars on makeup effects would have helped, but the real problem is the need for professionals at the top, and the money wasn’t there to hire them.  Blackburn, directing his first and only feature, does his best with this labor of love, but lacks the skill to make the film sing.  The pacing is uneven, and the picture has a flat, video feel.  Camera angles vary from dull to unnecessary.  He needed to retain a fight choreographer (along with a DP who knew how to film a fight) as Blackburn was forced to change the ending in postproduction because his climatic battle looked silly.  More money might have allowed Blackburn to fix the sound; there are numerous times when the looped dialog doesn’t synch with the actor’s lips. For low budget fare, this is OK, but it needed to have a real budget.

 Reviews, Vampires Tagged with:
Oct 091973
 
two reels

Countess Irina Karlstein (Lina Romay) vacations on the island of  Madeira, where her family’s vampirism has become myth. However, it is quite real, and as she kills locals for their life force, a few believers seek her out, several to destroy her, and a poet to be with her.

As the credits appear, we see a beautiful and sexy young woman, clad in only a cape, belt, and boots, walking toward the viewer. The camera jerks now and again, but that’s OK as all attention is focused on the nearly nude figure. The poor focus is more of a problem, as it makes it hard to see this vision. And this sensual female steps closer, and closer, and then…bumps into the camera lens. Yes, she hits it with her face, and no, this isn’t a comedy. Now there are several questions that the “whack” brings to my mind, such as: Couldn’t she see the camera or was she so obedient that she just kept following her instructions to walk forward even after it was obviously a bad idea? But the biggest question is why did writer-director-editor-cinematographer-cameraman Jesus Franco (he did them all using different names) put that in the final cut? It isn’t the last “why did he do that?” type question that popped to my mind while watching Female Vampire, a film that bears a striking resemblance to the work of any guy with a camcorder and a willing girlfriend.

Primarily, Female Vampire exists to show off the substantial charms of Lina Romay, who spends most of the film naked or nearly so, rolling around on a bed by herself or with a victim. Her thrashing about shows little choreography. I suspect Franco’s direction consisted of, “OK, wiggle, and show some sexual interest toward that pillow.” I doubt she ever saw dailies, which would have helped her in choosing more satisfying movements. While she could have been more artistic, I cannot complain about her enthusiasm and can think of many more unpleasant ways to spend a few hours than watching Romay in the buff.

While Romay can be forgiven any shortcoming, that’s not the case with Franco, who lacks even the basic skills of a director. Since he’s filming naked people, sometimes having sex, sometimes just laying there, I understand his uncontrollable desire for zoom shots, but these would work better if he zoomed in on something specific. More often than not, as he zooms, the camera drifts, and he ends up with a full screen shot of a patch of pale skin or a close-up of a mole. Occasionally, he stops short, getting half of a face (perhaps missing the nose). My best guess to explain the “style” of the movie is that Franco only had one camera, and wasn’t very good at moving it while shooting, so zooming was pretty much all he could manage for motion.

As for the story, don’t worry about it. It hardly exists. The Countess kills people by draining them during sex. Except for a poet who spends the first half of the film gazing out over the sea, the victims are no one in particular. In one instance, she attacks a leather-clad, bondage mistresses. Nothing in the film states why there are S&M fans sitting about ready to take on anyone who shows up.  But then I shouldn’t expect much of anything to be stated when there is only approximately five minutes of dialog in the entire film, and most of that is pretentious statements like “Nothing can stop the march of destiny.” Ummmm. I guess not. I suppose that’s why it’s called destiny.

There is a professor, a doctor, and a police inspector, but nothing comes of their appearance in the film except to show the blind professor feeling a dead woman’s genitals, searching for the vampire’s mark.

The whole thing is submerged in early ’70s elevator music, which does nothing to help the mood. A reasonable score would have at least made this a music video.

Still, I can’t dismiss the film, in small part because it has supposedly affected so many European filmmakers, but mainly because Romay is certainly worth gazing at. I found my second viewing superior, when I watched it in the original French, without subtitles (as none were available).  Not only is the English dubbing horrible, but it is a relief not to know what anyone is saying.

Female Vampire has been released under multiple titles. A version with hard-core insertions (which are not the original actors) goes by the title Insatiable Lust. Another cut, Erotic Kill, has many of the scenes replaced to create a slightly more traditional vampire film. In it, Romay is considerably more covered, and she bites her victims to drink their blood. Unless you are more sexually excited by blood than by a beautiful nude woman (or nude man), there is no reason to see, Erotic Kill.

Oct 051973
 
2.5 reels

Elizabeth Sayers (Pamela Franklin) can’t believe that her sister would commit suicide, so enrolls in her school under an alias to see if something suspicious is happening there. She finds a severe headmistress (Jo Van Fleet), a pleasant art teacher (Roy Thinnes), a sadistic psychologist (Lloyd Bochner), a group of friendly girls (Jamie Smith-Jackson, Kate Jackson, Cheryl Stoppelmoor—soon to be Cheryl Ladd), and a mystery.

Admit it, if you are interested in Satan’s School for Girls, it’s either the title—which implies exploitation—or the names of two of Charlie’s Angels that got your attention.  Well, it does have pre-haloed Kate Jackson and Cheryl Ladd, but there are no scantily clad schoolgirls on display.  This is a made-for-TV horror flick that tries for frights but is bound by early ’70s television sensibilities.  That means no blood, the girls covered from neck to toe (everyone seems to wear frumpy sweatshirts or something equally blanketing), nothing blasphemous, and deaths taking place only off screen.  It also means a tiny budget, lackluster directing, forgettable music, and a cinematographer who later worked on The Love Boat.  Sound bad?  Well, it isn’t.  It’s not great.  “Great” may be out of reach for made-for-TV fare.  But given the limitations of the medium, particularly in 1973, it’s pretty good.

Things start off as tense as TV allowed at the time, with a girl frantically trying to escape unseen forces.  She doesn’t, which brings in her sister, lots of nighttime investigating, and a number of almost-scares.  No, it isn’t frightening, but then neither is Halloween.

The story is better than I would have expected.  No cinematic or horror rules are broken and while it isn’t all that tricky to figure out what’s going on, every piece isn’t obvious from the start.  I was particularly fond of the ending, which takes the most heat from the film’s detractors.  But those who complain usually want a different kind of film.  Up until the final minutes, it could have been a melodrama, a suspenseful criminal tale, or a monster movie.  How much you enjoy the film will depend on which one of those you wanted it to be.

Pamela Franklin (who played an unstable psychic in The Legend of Hell House the same year and had started her career as the daughter in the ghost story The Innocents) plays Elizabeth like she’s ten years too old, unable to deal with reality, and in a big hurry to finish the film.  Much better is Kate Jackson, who carries the picture.  As the in-the-know, amiable but not sugary Roberta, she is sincere and moving.  Her speech on what she has gained at the school has more conviction than I would expect in an Aaron Spelling production.  And she’s a beauty.  Her not-yet cast mate, Cheryl Ladd, doesn’t get enough screen time to make much of an impression; she’s just a pretty girl that knows our heroes.

If you don’t expect much, you’re likely to find Satan’s School for Girls an agreeable diversion for an hour and a half.  It’s not a movie you’ll want in your collection, but probably one you’ll want to catch on late night TV.

 Reviews, Witches Tagged with:
Oct 021973
 
2.5 reels

Attack of the Blind Dead, aka Return of the Blind Dead (1973)

The town of Bouzano is preparing for its celebration of the blinding and burning of a group of satanic knights. Jack Marlowe (Tony Kendall) arrives to set up the fireworks show, and finds his ex-girlfriend, Vivian (Esther Roy), who is now the mafia-like mayor’s girl. The mayor (Fernando Sancho) sends his henchman to teach Marlowe to leave Vivian alone, but everything is interrupted by the blind dead templars, who have risen from their graves to seek revenge.

Those blind dead templars are back, sort of, in a misnamed film that is better made than its predecessor, but not as original. The Blind Dead first showed their skeletal faces in La Noche del Terror Ciego (inaccurately translated as Tombs of the Blind Dead), a low budget Spanish/Portuguese production memorable for introducing a new type of zombie, and for its weak script. The creatures were a hit, so with a higher budget, writer-director Amando de Ossorio made this semi-sequel, with a better script that still had enormous plot holes and bizarre characters.

While the makeup is the same, Ossorio has ignored the details of the origin of his monsters. A group of Satanic knights (many more than in the first film) are killed by peasants (no explanation is given on why the sword-wielding templars don’t cut down the villagers), and this time, have their eyes burned out. In modern day, a deformed and abused cemetery worker summons them from the grave with a sacrifice. No mention is made of their previous undead behavior in La Noche del Terror Ciego, where they rose on a nightly basis and bit into their victims, creating more zombies. There’s no biting in this one, nor additional zombies. It’s just a bunch of dead guys out for revenge. All this means the film fails as a sequel, and should be taken as a completely separate story, that just happens to have some similar elements.

Marlowe is another macho man common in ’70s Spanish cinema, and is as stupid as his counterparts.  When any sane man would realize he was in trouble, this guy just hangs around enjoying the view.  I think Marlowe is there simply to join in the “who’s got the biggest one” contest that this village is bound to have every few days. Most of the men have been bathing in large vats of testosterone nightly and are dying to show off their manhoods.  It gets old quickly, and I was rooting for the zombies to take them all out. Only the local hot babe Amalia (Lone Fleming, who played a different character in the first film), and the mayor, who oozes evil, are of any interest.

So, that leaves the undead as the real virtue of the film, and they are a sight.  Skeletons in rotting robes, these are great monsters still searching for a better movie. They are horrific enough to scare kids and cool enough to satisfy monster-movie fans. They spend more time walking slowly, riding their undead horses, and standing still than killing anyone, but they look good whatever they are doing (except when several die in scenes that needed more cash in the special effects bucket).


Return of the Evil Dead (1973)

The English dubbed version has been saddled with the title Return of the Evil Dead, which would have sounded better in the ’70s, before The Evil Dead and Return of the Living Dead were made. It has also been trimmed by several minutes, removing some nudity and gore.  While I recommend the Spanish language version, it doesn’t make a lot of difference. The cuts create another plot hole (the sacrifice is gone, so there’s no reason for the zombies to awaken), but in a film with so many holes, what’s one more? The acting is less than sterling in either version.

The blind dead appear again in The Ghost Galleon (1974), and Night of the Seagulls (1974).

Oct 021973
 
five reels

Devout police sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward) travels to a private, remote, Scottish island to investigate the disappearance of a schoolgirl.  He is disgusted to find a colony of pagans, practicing nude rituals and public sex, who are hiding the truth of the missing girl.

Sergeant Howie (played with appropriate frustration by Woodward) is unpleasant from his first moment onscreen.  He is inflexible, self-righteous, cruel, and willing to break the law he keeps yelling he is there to uphold.  Told differently, this could be a horror story about a man surrounded by evil, but that isn’t this story.  This is the story of a fool who enters paradise and can’t see it.  He is not outraged that somewhere there must be a murderer; he is outraged that the murderer, and the other islanders, have not accepted their “proper” place in society, that they do not believe as he believes.  And in this, Howie is far too much like the average man. Though this paradise has a few fanged snakes.

If you aren’t in the mood for a thoughtful movie, this is an enjoyable film.  The mystery is engaging, and who can be unhappy about a nude fertility dance from Britt Ekland.  Christopher Lee makes an excellent pagan lord of the manor, and his exchanges with Howie contain most of the best lines.

Lord:   I am confident your suspicions are wrong, Sergeant. We do not commit murder here. We are a deeply religious people.

Howie: Religious? With ruined churches, no ministers, no priests… and children dancing naked!

Lord:   They do love their divinity lessons.

Howie: But they are…are naked!

Lord:   Well, naturally. It’s much too dangerous to jump through fire with their clothes on.

Howie: And what of the true god, whose glory, churches and monasteries have been built on these islands for generations past? Now sir, what of him?

Lord:   He’s dead. Can’t complain, had his chance and in modern parlance, blew it.

The Wicker Man is generally called a horror film, but I think “cult” is a far better category for it. It doesn’t go for cheap scares, nor does it care about normal struture. The film has multiple songs (enough for the director to call it, only partly joking, a musical). There are dream-like sequences that may or may not be part of a dream. And a few long speeches. It is its own kind of movie, and a brilliant one. Lee called it his finest film and I agree. This isn’t Halloween viewing, but think about it for May Day.

There are multiple versions laying about, which go by a confusing number of names, but I’ll simply call them the Short, Medium, and Long cuts. The Short version is a studeo required hack-job, done by execs who had no interest in the film. It cuts important moments, removes a day, and moves around scenes for no good reason. Avoid it. Between the other two, there is less reason to choose one over the other. The Long cut has extra bits at the beginning of Howie in his police station and at church. Those aren’t necessary, and I slightly prefer the Medium cut.

 

Sep 291973
 
two reels

Insurance salesman Walter Neff (Richard Crenna) is seduced by housewife Phyllis Dietrickson (Samantha Eggar) into killing her husband. Walter falsifies an accident policy for the husband that has a double indemnity clause: it pays double if the insured dies in a train accident. Their one foreseeable problem is Barton Keyes (Lee J. Cobb), a crack insurance investigator and Neff’s friend, who isn’t likely to let things go. Then there is the far more dangerous problem that they never considered, that it is only a matter of time before Walter and Phyllis turn on each other.

So soon after reviewing the remake of the classic The Mark of Zorro I’m back with the same situation: a 1970s TV version of a great 1940s movie that had helped define its genre.  This time the classic is 1944’s Double Indemnity, a pivotal Film Noir work. And like the remake of The Mark of Zorro, this is an unnecessary, pedestrian affair that shows how good the original was.

There are few additions to the Billy Wilder/Raymond Chandler script that had served Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, and Edward G. Robinson so well. But there are numerous cuts, bringing the film down from 107 minutes to a commercial friendly 75. Every cut hurts the film, as we lose the humor, Neff & Keyes’s relationship, and most of the step daughter’s subplot. But the deletions don’t damn it. Make the same cuts to a print of the ’44 version and you’ve still got a terrific flick. Nope, the real problems lie with the cast, and to a greater extent with the director.

Richard Crenna does create a cynical and sleazy insurance salesman. It’s not a bad performance and if it had been in another film, I’d be praising it. However, it isn’t Neff. Crenna’s man has few values and little faith, but he isn’t the jaded, empty soul that MacMurray created. MacMurray’s Neff was willing to join in on a murder simply because there was no reason not to; it might be something fun to do, though nothing was ever that much fun. Crenna’s isn’t that gone, which leaves a big hole in the story: why does this Neff commit murder? The money’s not good enough, and he doesn’t love Phyllis (with the two actor’s lack of chemistry, he doesn’t even appear to notice her). This Neff would have forgotten about killing and instead gone out to a bar to pick up “cheap broads.”

Samantha Eggar is attractive enough to play the ultimate femme fatale, but she lacks the mystery, edge, and power. She’s cute, with lovely long red hair and a pleasing accent, but never displays an allure that would cause men to kill. She doesn’t come off as dangerous, but merely as a bored housewife.

The exception to the casting blunders is Lee J. Cobb. He devours the part of Keyes, displaying the proper mix of fanaticism, fatigue, and affection. His only flaw is that he isn’t Edward G. Robinson, but then, who is?

But forget the actors. This movie is won or lost on direction, and Jack Smight (responsible for the rapes of the works of SF giants Ray Bradbury and Roger Zelazny: The Illustrated Man and Damnation Alley, as well as numerous generic TV shows) is no Billy Wilder. Constrained by an insufficient television budget, he plops the story on film like half cooked spaghetti. There’s no sign of imagination or even an understanding that how a scene is shot make a difference in what that scene means. Take Phyllis’s entrance. Here she’s just some hot chick in a towel answering the door. Thirty years earlier, she was an enigma, standing high above Neff and looking down on him, both literally and figuratively.

With plain, brightly lit shots, Smight has pulled the Noir from this Film Noir classic. As the script axed the comedy, all that’s left is a none-too suspenseful soap opera. However, some value can be taken from this anemic bore. It is highly instructive to student directors and beginning film critics to compare the two versions of Double Indemnity and see why the first is superior. Luckily, the only way the ’73 take is available is as an extra on the second disc of the two disc Double Indemnity collectors addition. As an extra, it isn’t bad at all.  As a film, forget it.

 Film Noir, Reviews Tagged with:
May 231973
 
toxic

The follow up, Godzilla vs. Megalon vies with Godzilla ‘s Revenge for the title of worst Godzilla film. The aliens aren’t from outer space, but from under the ground. Upset with nuclear testing, they do a little dance, and send their giant bug, Megalon to destroy Japan (those Japanese and their nuclear bombs; when will they learn?). His teammate is Gigon, the turkey buzzsaw. Seems the subterranean dwellers keep the space cockroaches on speed dial in case they ever need to borrow a cup of monster. Godzilla pairs up with a TV show rip-off robot that can communicate with the big lizard using flamboyant sign language (must be a class on that at Monster U). The robot can grow to giant size due to his survival programming (a fact unknown to its creator). Handy.

Cheap even by the standards of 70s Godzilla films, Godzilla vs. Megalon has few sets and fewer people; two adults and one “Kenny” (annoying young boy in oddly tight pants). The project comes across as a pilot for a horrendous kids robot series.

Feb 281973
 
two reels
Yarasa adam - Bedmen (1973)

There’s an evil, cat-petting villain in town. His plan: to insure the fashion icons around the city, and then kill them. Turkish Commissioner Gordon contacts playboy, crime-fighter, and mercenary, Turkish Batman (Levent Cakir) to save the day. The costumed superhero, along with his ward, Robin (Huseyin Sayar) set out to track down the evil-doers, and also pick up some hot women.

That music seems to work to start things off. It sounds a little like… Ummm. That’s the theme from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service… Hey. Wait a minute. I am beginning to doubt the legitimacy of this film.

So, a slight diversion. Mainstream Hollywood films have regularly been plundered by low budget foreign filmmakers who were less likely to get sued thea locals. In the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s, Turkey was at the forefront of science fiction and superhero “unofficial” flicks. They had Captain America, Spiderman, Batgirl, and several Superman films, and they had this one. Since they already were ignoring trademarks and copyrights, there was no reason not to go whole hog. Turkish Batman isn’t just swiping from DC comics and Warner Brothers. When Turkish Batman gets his mission, it is via a taped message and 8x10s, straight out of Mission Impossible. The villain of the piece is a Blofeld copy. And the music will all sound familiar. Multiple themes from James Bond, The Saint, and I Spy show up and many others I couldn’t immediately place. Swing, jazz, and rock hits also make the soundtrack, and I can promise you, no one paid licensing fees, though in those cases, they didn’t always take the best known version. That sent me looking for a really nice flute-fronted version of Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love that backed one of the best fight scenes. (It’s by CCS; thank you YouTube)

OK, so Turkish Batman steals a lot and has some good music, but how is it? Well, surprisingly entertaining, but probably not for everyone. While its existence is owed to the ’66 TV show, it doesn’t follow its quirky lead, but instead gets its marching orders from the old ‘40s serials. Yes, it’s silly, but it doesn’t admit it. And it is a lot darker than any Dark Knight has ever been on US screens.

bedmen-yarasa-adamSo, if you watch a Batman movie and say, “That’s all well and good, but where are the strippers and why doesn’t Batman shoot anyone in the face?” then you’ve found your film. All the Turkish rip-off films focus on old-school, manly-men and hot women and this film leans into that strongly. Hitting women? Sure. Killing villains? Absolutely. I know very little of Turkish culture, so I can only speculate on if they thought of superheros as adult entertainment, or if they are more laid back about breasts and blood for kids.

Our mercenary heroes (hey, it takes money to keep up that playboy lifestyle) are a fliptastic duo. They fight better after doing a cartwheel and at least Huseyin Sayar (that’s Robin) is a skilled gymnast. They first put on their costumes for a bit of sparring and flip training. And what goes best after a good workout? Strippers of course. Batman takes “young” Robin to a jazz club where we spend several minutes watching a very talented young lady, and no matter how much I liked that, Robin liked it more. That was one appreciative sidekick. By the way, where are these strip clubs with full jazz bands on stage next to the strippers? In Turkey I suppose, but we need to get some of those.

But naked babes aren’t just for the stage as Batman picks up girl after girl for a quick tryst. Hey, you’ve got to play both costumed crime-fighter and wild, rich guy, and this Batman is happy to intertwine the two. He takes off his mask as quickly as the girls he saves take off their tops. Most of them end up dead, so maybe Batman needed to focus more.

Both he and Robin also take off their capes before each fight; they were way ahead of The Incredible.

Of course the main course here is beating up criminals and there’s a lot of it. You are never more than a few minutes away from a fight. With so much punching, I noticed quickly that all the punches sound exactly the same, but that happened on a lot of the old serials.

This is a hard film to rate. There are a lot of issues with acting, editing, shooting, and plot. But it is also a must see. Turkish Batman must be experienced by every superhero fan at least once.

Feb 181973
 
one reel
boywhocried

Divorced and exceptionally drab Robert Bridgestone (Kirwin Mathews) gets a weekend with his thirteen-going-on-six-year-old son, Richie (Scott Sealey) in a forest cabin. Their timing is bad when a passing werewolf starts shaking Richie; why is he shaking Richie? Dad intervenes which results in a dead werewolf and a bitten father. Dad never noticed that it was a werewolf but Richie insists on telling everyone, and jumping up and down and acting out the killing, because he’s a rotten kid, so a psychologist recommends taking the kid back to the woods because…  Plot? And wouldn’t you know they wait just long enough for another full moon. Oh, and there’s hippies because it is 1973.

While the title suggests a horror comedy, the only comedy is unintentional, but there is unfortunately a lot of it. This movie is in deadly earnest in the worst way.

It is hard to imagine that The Boy Who Cried Werewolf got a theatrical release. It has the look of a made-for-TV cheepie. There are few characters and fewer sets and it is clear reshoots were not in the budget. Nor were acting lessons for the kid. Although he’s not much worse than Mathews or Elaine Devry as the underwritten ex-wife or Robert J. Wilke as the sheriff whose personality changes with each scene.

No money was available for the script either. Things just happen. The divorced wife who shows no sign of interest in her ex just suddenly says, “Hey, let’s get back together.” Dad only plans weekends at the cabin during full moons. Night and day shift randomly, or dad loves taking his kid out for midnight fishing trips. The psychologist believes in werewolves enough to pressure dad, but not enough to avoid hanging with him during a full moon. Two vehicles crash when our werewolf steps onto a mountain road, even though the drivers have plenty of time to slow down or swerve out of the way. And being physically incapable of breaching a drawn prentagram is not the sort of thing anyone discusses after the fact.

The make-up is also cheap, resembling a Halloween mask, but most werewolf movies that don’t include Lon Chaney Jr. have sad makeup, so I don’t hold that against the film. I am not that generous with Richie, who is more or less the lead. There needs to be someone likable in order to care about what is happening. For the most past I didn’t care about these folks, but in the case of Richie, I really wanted the werewolf to eat him. Then this might have been passable entertainment. Though I must say, the ending is pretty funny. It isn’t supposed to be, but it is.

Kirwin Mathews is best known as the really white guy pretending to be an Arab in The 7th Voyage of Sinbad.

 Reviews, Werewolves Tagged with:
Oct 061972
 

Emma (BBC – 1972) three reels
Emma (1996) four reels
Emma (A&E – 1996) four reels
Clueless (1995) five reels

Emma Woodhouse, a child of privilege, is so proud of her successful matchmaking of her ex-nanny to respectable Mr. Weston that she sets out to find partners for the other inhabitants of her small town.  She adopts Harriet Smith, a girl of lesser birth, as her next project, and chooses for her the parson, Mr. Elton, ignoring the girl’s interest in a simple farmer.  This infuriates Mr. Knightly, an old and close friend of the family and the lord of the manor.  In tutoring Harriet on the fine arts of high society, Emma and Harriet frequently go on visits to the poor and infirm, often encountering Miss Bates, a nearly senile old maid who has recently had her beautiful and accomplished, but overly secretive niece, Jane Fairfax, come to stay with her.  With her plans going less than smoothly, Emma is distracted by the arrival of Frank Churchill, a charming man who immediately shows an interest in her.  It is just a matter of time before relationships are formed, secrets are revealed, and even Emma’s hypochondriac father is as contented as he can be.

There is a similarity between all the stories of Jane Austen.  Someone previously unacquainted with her work couldn’t be faulted for arriving at the conclusion that Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Emma were all adapted from the same source material.  Narrowing our focus, both Emma and Pride and Prejudice follow a strong-willed, witty, single, young woman dealing with questions of marriage and social position.  Her world is that of the lesser rich, wealthy, and obscenely opulent: even those who are greeted with sympathy for their humble state have servants.  The most powerful man in the area is romantically interested in her, but prejudices, pride (see where the title comes from) and misunderstandings stand in the way of a happy resolution.  She must also deal with an absurd parent and the advances of an inappropriate suitor.  Then a tall, dark, and handsome stranger comes to town, a man that is not what he appears to be and has a number of secrets.  He befriends our heroine, much to the distress of the lord of the manor.  The details of who will marry whom (the only subject of the stories) are worked out at a series of dinner parties, dances, carriage rides, and daytime visits, with very little passion and absolutely no eroticism.  Certainly the two works have major differences, but they have more in common than not.

Where these two differ is in tone.  Pride and Prejudice is a cross between a romantic drama and a satiric comedy.  Emma is all satire.  It reveals an idle and self-absorbed upper class where the greatest tragedy is not being asked to dance.  The workers go completely unnoticed and must slavishly answer to the whim of people who are incapable of taking care of themselves.  While Pride and Prejudice has a few farcical characters for comic relief, everyone in Emma is ludicrous to some degree.  For some it is shown in everything they say or do; Emma’s father bemoans the poor state of anyone getting married or having a baby as it is bound to give them a severe chill.  For others, like Emma herself, it is most evident in an over inflated manor of speaking.  It is hard to find a line that isn’t ironic.  This makes Emma a much lighter viewing experience.

The trick with any adaptation is to make the humor shine, and to make Emma likable.  The first can be difficult because there is plenty of droll dialog, but little that’s laugh-out-loud funny.  The second is even harder due to Emma’s numerous flaws.  Austen thought that no one would like Emma except Austen herself.  After all, the character is vain, prejudiced, simplistic, domineering, shortsighted, and a busybody on a massive scale.  But then everyone in the story shares at least one or two of those traits, and often to a much greater degree.  Do you have to like Emma to like the story?  Yes.  You spend too much time with her and her concerns.  If you dislike her, there’s no motivation to stick with it, and most of the humor falls flat.


Emma (BBC – 1972) – Doran Godwin/John Carson

The earliest “film” version you are likely to find (previous made-for-TV adaptations are unavailable), the 1972 BBC Emma is a 6-part miniseries running 240 minutes.  It is the choice of your average Janeite (devoted fans of Jane Austen’s writings who tend to have little patience with changes to their beloved author’s works) since it sticks closely to the book, cutting little.  With so much time to work with, character relationships are clearer than in the later versions and plot points that could be foggy (particularly in the Gwyneth Paltrow film) are explained, sometimes repeatedly.  For anyone studying the story, this is a huge advantage, but for simple entertaining viewing, it can be tedious.  Multiple times, I found that the scene I’d just watched could have been removed from the series with no loss of information or emotion.  Some of the jokes are run into the ground.  Mr. Woodhouse’s incessant  harping on drafts and disease was amusing for a time, but long before the end I was praying for one of the often mentioned viruses to finish him off.  Likewise, Miss Bates’ prattle crosses the line between fun and annoying.  The filmmakers showed more concern with matching the book than for what works best on the screen.

Emma ’72 is more successful than its competitors as satire.  It is clear from the first moment that there is something odd about these people.  Everyone speaks their lines in a staccato fashion, making it all feel unreal.  These aren’t actual people, but the representations of the silly qualities of people.  That makes it almost drama-free, but also the least charming of the three available Emmas.

Class distinctions are highly visible, with great deference given to those of higher station.  The common rich folk display bizarre levels of joy whenever Emma deems to grace them with a word.  Mrs. Elton’s greatest sin (and she has many) is here seen to be not keeping to her place in society.

Is Emma likable?  Yes, from the start, although your affection for her is likely to waver sometime later, at least for a time.  Her questionable behavior is explained by her place in society.  Since the rich and mighty are always silly, and no one but Mr. Knightly has ever been in a position to correct her, it is no surprise that a good natured girl would have some faulty views on how to carry out her good deeds.  Plus, since it is all artificial, it is hard to feel that she is ever hurting anyone.

Doran Godwin is an amicable Emma, though some of her facial movements, particularly with her eyebrows, are difficult to interpret.  It is almost as if the director told her to change her expression, but didn’t say to what, so she chose randomly.  It is hard to determine her age, but while she may be in her early twenties, she looks somewhat older.  Similarly, John Carson appears to be ten years too old to be Mr. Knghtley.  He brings dignity to the part, but not warmth.

As for the rest of the cast, Robert East fits the role of the roguish Frank Churchill, although he doesn’t overwhelm.  Timothy Peters is too handsome for Mr. Elton, and fails to take advantage of the comical opportunities.  Debbie Bowen’s Harriet Smith is more child-like than I’ve seen elsewhere, making it easy to accept that this flibbertigibbet would hang on Emma’s every word and do whatever she said.  The others do acceptable jobs, but no one is memorable.

Since it was shot for British television (and in the ’70s), don’t look for exciting camera work, diverse music, or extravagant sets.  It resembles an old episode of Masterpiece Theater.  If that doesn’t ring a bell, think of the production as somewhere between a big screen release and a live play.


Emma (1996) – Gwyneth Paltrow/Jeremy Northam

Playing up the light comedy angle over the satiric, the 1996 screen version is more concerned with the characters than its predecessor, and while not a romantic-comedy, it is closer to being one than the others.  It is as if they were making a companion piece to Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest.

Two hours shorter than the miniseries, it trims much of the Frank Churchill/Jane Fairfax plot in favor of the Harriet Smith/Rev. Elton one.  If this is your introduction to the story, you are likely to need a second viewing to determine who Jane is related to, why she is there, and what Frank is up to.  Jane has almost no personality, and Frank only makes an impression because he is played by Ewan McGregor with great flamboyance.  It seems that writer/director Douglas McGrath watched Clueless, where the Frank character is gay, and decided to one-up that.  It works for the reduced screen time.

While this is a pastoral, almost fluffy picture, the eccentricities of all the characters have been dialed down, as if they are meant to approach normalcy.  Mr. Woodhouse’s hypochondria falls within believable limits for bizarre older relatives.  Harriet Smith (Toni Collette) is an average, weak-willed girl placed amongst her betters, and Mrs. Bates is an annoying, lonely, elderly woman not unlike many you will meet in your life.  Only Frank (as previously mentioned) and Elton (Alan Cumming, who captures perfectly his humorous pomposity and oozing sycophantic nature) are more peculiar than in the BBC series.

Unfortunately, this nearing-reality approach makes Emma’s behavior harder to excuse.  Since the class differences (still visible) are not played up quite so strongly, we’re left with Emma just being a haughty brat who does real emotional damage to those around her.  Sure, it all works out in the end, and Gwyneth Paltrow’s substantial charm makes it impossible to dislike Emma, but it takes far too long to care about her.

If Emma is harsher, Mr. Knightley strikes a more congenial note.  Still a judge of Emma, his criticisms (and the tones he uses to deliver them) are reasonable.  Jeremy Northam’s performance gives this version its more romantic flavor.

Emma ’96, released theatrically, far exceeds the others in look and sound.  It is a larger production with more elaborate sets, lush colors, and music that fits every moment.  It should be no surprise that TV versions can’t compete, but it is a good looking picture by any standard.


Emma (A&E – 1996) – Kate Beckinsale/Mark Strong

Released a few months after the Paltrow/Northam Emma, it is hard to imagine that the makers of this TV movie weren’t intimidated by their much bigger sister.  However, it acquits itself well.

Kate Beckinsale is a warm and caring Emma, with a child-like glee.  Her mistakes are those of a kid who is still learning how the world works.  While not as graceful as Paltrow’s, she is also not as distant.

Thematically, A&E’s Emma stands between the other two.  It is more obviously a satire, with the characters behaving weirder than on the big screen, but not as bizarre as in the miniseries.  It is more fantastical (showing us Emma’s daydreams), but is also grittier.  These people got dust in their hair and mud on the hems of their gowns.

Once again, cutting was necessary (this is a TV movie, not a miniseries).  Here, Harriet Smith and Mr. Elton get short shrift.  Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax take the lion’s share of the story.  That trade works as there is more depth and intrigue with Frank and Jane.  It works even better because of Raymond Coulthard, whose Frank is charismatic enough that his actions, and the acceptance of those actions, are easy to believe.  Even though there is more material in the earliest version, this is the best and most complete accounting of Frank.

I’d give my nod to this rendition for having the finest mix, but it stumbles where the theatrical Emma was steady, with Mr. Knightly.  He steps out of the absurdity, and is played as a straight, dramatic character, and an unpleasant one at that.  He scolds and lectures without any sign of affection, and often in a manor which is not only unseemly, but no fun to watch.  The idea of this winsome, innocent Emma getting together with this tyrannical Knightly is tragic.  Romance fans will have little to cheer about.  Happily, the focus of Emma is not on that relationship.


Clueless (1995) – Alicia Silverstone/Paul Rudd/Brittany Murphy

Emma goes modern and teen and it’s never been treated better.  Clueless is smart, witty, engaging, and more fun than a barrel of Beverly Hills teens.  Austen’s dialog may be hard to find, but her characters, plot, and spirit are easy to spot.

Emma has become Cher Horowitz (Alicia Silverstone, delightful in every way), the queen of her high school’s in-crowd, whose successful matchmaking of her teachers is incentive for her to try again.  Harriet is now Tai (Brittany Murphy), a lower class girl from the East who doesn’t know that “It is one thing to spark up a doobie and get laced at parties, but it is quite another to be fried all day.”  Cher tries to set Tai up with Elton (Jeremy Sisto), who is pretty much Elton.  Some things never change.  Of course, Tai would fit better with skateboarder Travis (Breckin Meyer), but Cher doesn’t see him as a member of fit society.  Naturally a good looking stranger comes to town, although his name is Christian instead of Churchill, and while he looks to be a good match for Cher, it is clearer than in other Emmas that they will never be a couple.  As for Knightly, he is Josh (Paul Rudd), whose brotherly connection to Cher is every bit as confusing as Knightly’s has always been to Emma.

Many of the scenes play out as Jane Austen fans would expect.  Elton asks for Cher’s picture of Tai, and later tries to pick up Cher on the ride home from a party.  Josh asks Tai to dance to save her from embarrassment.  Christian rescues Tai from attack.  Tai sits with Cher to burn her treasures from her “relationship” to Elton, etc.  If you know the story, you can guess how things will play out.

But it is also fresh.  The dialog, an invention based on high school slang that then became actual teen slang, is hysterical and quotable:

“As if!”

“That’s Ren and Stimpy. They’re way existential.”

“Christian said he’d call the next day, but in boy time that meant Thursday.”

“Unfortunately, There was a major babe drought at my school.”

“That was way harsh”

“I felt impotent and out of control. Which I really, really hate.”

“Wasn’t my mom a total Betty?”

Clueless is the all out satire that Emma is meant to be, but it also works as a romantic comedy.  The key, besides the sharp screenplay, is Alicia Silverstone’s Cher.  I don’t usually use the word “adorable,” but I couldn’t help thinking it during much of my latest screening.  My wife, who has no hesitation with the word and sat with me during all of my many viewings since I first saw it on the big screen, must have said “Isn’t she adorable” ten times.  And so she is.   Her less than lofty deeds do not damn her as she has several motivations running simultaneously, and somewhere in the mix is the real desire to do good.  For a story about shallow people, Cher is anything but two dimensional.

Few comedies are as repeatable as Clueless.  It has the right actors, a stylish director (Amy Heckerling, who is also responsible for Fast Times at Ridgemont High), a tight, funny script (also by Heckerling), bouncy, integrated, music, characters you care about, and Austen’s novel as a base.

There’s been a lot of Jane Austen on film recently.  Since 1995, in addition to the Emmas, there have been five versions of Pride & Prejudice (Pride and Prejudice ’95, Pride & Prejudice ’05, Pride and Prejudice: A Latter Day Comedy, Bride and Prejudice, and Bridget Jones’s Diary), two Sense and Sensibilitys  (Sense and Sensibility, Kandukondain Kandukondain), Mansfield Park, and Persuasion.

Oct 061972
 
one reel

A young woman is found murdered in Louisiana, with bite wounds. The Sheriff (David Janssen) searches for the killer from his short list of suspects: the woman’s brother, a strange rustic, the doctor who made her pregnant, the rich land owner (Bradford Dillman), and his sister (Barbara Rush).

Made originally for broadcast TV, I had low expectations for the cinematography and the washed out picture and blasé framing did not disappoint. Don’t look for quality sound, or music either. You should expect lots of talking and not much in the way of a monster.

It’s not really a horror film by structure, but a mystery.  We’re presented with a number of suspects and one of them has to be the killer. The fact that one is a werewolf doesn’t affect much. The horror aspect changes nothing; there’s no twist to the story’s very linier nature. The only surprise you’ll find is how obvious it all is.  I knew that the werewolf couldn’t be one person because it was telegraphed from early on that the character was the monster. I figured it had to be someone else as no one makes the killer so blatant. Silly me.

In addition to the mystery, Moon of the Wolf weaves in, with mismatched, frayed threads, a romance between the Sheriff and the rich woman. There’s no chemistry, but then Janssen barely displays life in the film. He just looks unhappy with where his career has fallen.

The social setup is dated and left me feeling far away from the situation. Not only the “shocking” pregnancy, but the rich plantation owner’s haughty behavior, don’t translate well to modern times. I suppose that this could be a realistic account of life in 1972 Louisiana, but it feels more like 1930. The werewolf makeup is poor, being little more than a funny nose, some fangs, and a bit of fur. I’ve seen worse, but generally in films smart enough to keep the monster in the dark.

Moon of the Wolf isn’t a terrible film, but I can’t come up with a single reason to watch it.

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