-
THE ARCHIVIST VOLUME XXIV: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Part 1!
by Ryan Lewellen
The Archivist
Welcome to the Archive. Following the infamous “Format Wars” (R.I.P. VHS), a multitude of films found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their admittedly niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Disc On Demand and Streaming service devoted to some of the more idiosyncratic pieces of cinema ever made. Being big fans of the label, we here at Cinapse thought it prudent to establish a column devoted to these unusual gems. Thus “The Archivist” was born — a biweekly look at some of the best, boldest and most batshit motion pictures the Shield has to offer. Some of these will be recent additions to the collection, while others will be titles that have been available for awhile. With over 1,500 pictures procurable on Warner Archive (and more being added every month), there’s no possible way we’ll get to all of them. But trust me when we say we’re sure going to try.
Archivers, the next couple of issues of the column were a gamble — one that has paid off with a rewarding discovery. Guy Ritchie is trying his hand at bringing the classic NBC show The Man From U.N.C.L.E to the big screen with a cool cast and some style. The Warner Archives just so happens to have all eight previous cinematic incarnations of the immensely popular show, so I am watching the whole collection! Today, you can learn all about the first four productions of this fun, campy, and beautifully retro take on espionage.
The series, born in 1964, was such an unprecedented hit (biggest in merchandizing tie-ins before Star Trek) that NBC authorized the producers to shoot additional footage, with added sex and violence (to keep up with James Bond), and re-cut certain episodes as feature-length films for theatrical distribution. The series shares a great deal in common with Bond, partially thanks to Ian Fleming’s first-hand work on its development. I had never heard of the show, and I had never heard of such a bizarre re-formatting practice, and I am so happy to see the results.
These movies are bonkers.
TO TRAP A SPY (1964)
In what would serve as the pilot for the show, U.N.C.L.E. agent Napoleon Solo (a name created by Ian Fleming) has to recruit an old flame of American Industrialist, Andrew Vulcan (Fritz Weaver), so as to infiltrate his compound and thwart the assassination of an African Prime Minister. The recruited, “an innocent” named Elaine Donaldson, was the inception of a common trope for the series. In most episodes, a civilian was usually present with whom we might identify. The concept works here, and in their climactic moment of doubt, she also prompts a more human side of Solo (Robert Vaughn).
Our hero is a classic smarmy-charmy “gentleman,” whose casual swagger has women ready to make love at the drop of a hat. Vaughn’s every ridiculous move as Solo is so completely obsolete, one can barely recognize the silliness as masculinity. For his day, however, he was the smoothest M-F’er on television, and his committed female co-stars almost have me convinced his nonsense could work. So far, To Trap A Spy is the most complete and cohesive re-cut movie version. The few out-of-nowhere sexy scenes might feel shoe-horned in, but they manage to drive the A-plot forward, and a few characters have intriguing and fully-earned arcs. The action scenes are classic, and so is the charisma. If you are only curious enough to check out one title, this would probably be it.
THE SPY WITH MY FACE (1965)
That being said, it would be a shame for you to miss out on the charm of Napoleon Solo’s soviet partner (U.N.C.L.E. is an international alliance of spies), Illya Kuryakin (David McCallum). My mother informs me he was quite the hunk, and all the boomer girls knew and loved him, whether they had watched the show, or not. I can’t speak to his attractiveness, but his comedic instincts are certainly on point, and the films have only been growing wittier and livelier since this installment.
T.H.R.U.S.H. (This spy universe’s SPECTRE equivalent), has created a Solo doppelganger (through the magic of plastic surgery), captured the real U.N.C.L.E. agent, and infiltrated the heroic organization with for purposes of eeeeevil. You would think the lady employees of U.N.C.L.E. would have caught this imposter immediately, considering he couldn’t spare a second staring at their backsides. This is the least successful movie thus far in the franchise. The footage from separate shoots doesn’t match, the tone is all over the place, and the sluggish story is further crippled by a plot lacking cohesiveness.
One Spy Too Many (1966)
EVIL FARMER HENCHMEN!
The third theatrical go-round for Solo and Kuryakin is possibly my favorite. Our stalwart spies stumble onto the world-domination plot of Alexander (Rip Torn), who idolizes Alexander The Great, and is being tracked down by his clever playgirl ex-wife for her considerable share of the divorce settlement. There is a lot of movie to offer in this one, and the production really upped the ante for set-pieces. The characters are great, especially Rip Torn’s Alexander, who is the most Bond-esque villain in the series thus far.
Plus, David McCallum fights a bunch of evil farmers.
ONE OF OUR SPIES IS MISSING (1966)
Things are starting to get uncomfortably campy, and it can probably be blamed on feminism… or the fountain of youth… or missing cats. One Of Our Spies Is Missing is a lot of fun, but it is one hell of a mess. Many plots are at work here, and within them, certain themes die as quickly as they are born.
An evil band of feminists are posing (puns!) as a group of models. Their leader is in love (and has been since childhood) with an elderly English statesman who was a colleague of Winston Churchill. She has kidnapped a scientist so he can use his anti-aging formula on her lover, but also use the poor old man for her own personal gang… then T.H.R.U.S.H. gets involved…
Again, this one is a big movie, and it isn’t quite so jaunty as its predecessors, but by the second half, the comedy is as good as ever, and there was one particularly funny bit I actually watched twice just to verify its strangely modern feel.
I enjoyed watching these goofball films so much that I’m now very excited to see what they do with the material in the new production. I haven’t exactly been a Guy Ritchie acolyte since I aged past 15, and even his Sherlock Holmes movies came and went without my seeing them. Hopefully his latest will be at least fun as I hear those films were.
Click here to read Part 2 of this series.
-
NED KELLY: A Grand Failure
by Ryan Lewellen
Thanks to Cinapse, I have been swiftly falling in love with the sparse acting career of Mick Jagger. I dedicated a whole Archivist post to him, and was shocked to discover a new favorite movie. His filmography might be relatively short, and extremely hit or miss, but all of his films offer undeniable fascination. In the 1970 production of Ned Kelly, we may have the quintessential Mick Jagger film: a work which is good, bad, and fascinating — all at once. The story of the Australian bushranger’s battle against persecution by police, and by the same token, British Imperialism, has already been filmed many times by this point in cinema history. What set it apart from the previous incarnations, however, was the incredible contributions made by an uncommon convergence of eclectic artists.
Rock and roll superstar Mick Jagger plays an Irish folk hero of Australia, in a film featuring several songs written by Shel Silverstein, mostly performed by Waylon Jennings. That collaboration is so cool it gives me chills. I’m not sure you could find a stranger supergroup of artists in any medium. Unfortunately, this collection of talent could only produce mixed results, and the movie is a completely odd watch. Silverstein’s songs are incredible, and from melodies to lyrics, they practically sound like authentic Irish songs of the era (distinctly in honor of a folk hero), but as performed by Jennings, especially about Irish immigrants in Australia, their inclusion seems a little awkward. The tale is a Western through and through (with a side of Robin Hood), but somehow the country tone of the singer’s crooning seems oddly out of place, all things considered.
Then, there is the clumsy filmmaking. From a technical standpoint, the movie is pure garbage. This is one of the homeliest movies I have ever seen, and I was shocked to discover Director of Photography Gerry Fisher was praised for the mood set by his shadowy cinematography. Shadowy? How about, “Naturally lighted in an uncontrolled outdoor environment.” Was he trying to set a mood of incompetence? There doesn’t seem to be anything done intentionally as far as the film’s images are concerned. I’m all for grit and realism, but this doesn’t look like reality so much as it looks like thoughtless shooting. The audio is also disastrous, and perhaps home video distributor, Olive Films, is at fault here, but the thin sound of every actor’s speech seems to be shrinking quieter from beginning to end. If that weren’t bad enough, the editing is also pathetically clunky. It’s not that I prefer Hollywood slickness to alternative perspectives, but again, the unskillful approach to assembling this film doesn’t seem planned. One can almost imagine strips of celluloid taped together by a first-time editor whose fingers are crossed.
Okay, so not all crew members were operating at their best, and the movie is hard to look at, but what you do see is rather memorable. One can easily understand why this story has been told on film so frequently. Ned Kelly’s fight was epically cinematic, especially his last stand against a train stuffed with armed police. The Kelly Gang created shrewd armor from iron, and the sight of them clad in it is mesmerizing. It’s a strange film, with one of Jagger’s lesser performances, and perhaps the kind of thing you have to see, just… so you can weigh-in on it. For the same reason, I am happy to have it available on Blu-ray. It’s so odd and unique, it sort of justifies its own existence. It has to be seen simply because it happened.
-
An Evening with Pam Grier in Kansas City
When I first heard that Pam Grier would be in town for the Kansas City Comic Con, my immediate thought was, “Please let the Drafthouse jump on this”. Thankfully my plea was heard and answered, and last night I had the great pleasure of attending An Evening With Pam Grier, presented by The Alamo Drafthouse, in cooperation with Kansas City Comic Con and Elite Comics. The evening consisted of a Q&A session with Pam followed by a screening of Jackie Brown. Commemorative posters by artist Rob Schamberger were made available for purchase.
Cinapse readers who are familiar with our output will certainly not be surprised by my enthusiasm. As a fan of blaxploitation cinema and Grier in particular, I’ve recently shared my undying love for Grier and her avatar of female empowerment in reviews of Jack Hill’s Coffy and Foxy Brown, and Arthur Marks’ Friday Foster.
The audience immediately roared with applause and gave a standing ovation as Pam took her place at the front of a completely packed house. After an introduction by the Drafthouse’s Ryan Davis, the evening kicked off with a fan Q&A session moderated by film critic Shawn Edwards of the local Fox TV affiliate and ILoveBlackMovies.com.
Pam was absolutely incredible; genial and charming, brutally honest and comfortable with herself, and very, very funny. Here are some of the highlights from that conversation:
On her early career–
As a child and young woman, Pam was sexually assaulted on three different occasions — these horrible attacks affected her and eventually galvanized her to take control and no longer be a victim.On Coffy —
To portray Coffy, Pam took inspiration from her own mother’s righteousness and sense of justice.On Reservoir Dogs —
Pam jokes that she “peed” in surprise when name-dropped in Reservoir Dogs. She watched the film theatrically and felt all eyes fall on her in that moment.On Sid Haig–
Pam jokingly interrupted a fan’s mention of Sid Haig with “We never fucked”, causing the audience to roar with laughter.On what other films have influenced or inspired her–
Pam listed several films and individuals. I was so entranced in the moment by hearing them that I didn’t immediately think to write them down, but they included Meryl Streep & Sophie’s Choice, Ingmar Bergman & Fanny & Alexander, Das Boot, Jonathan Demme, and Bernardo Bertolucci.On her favorite Tarantino film besides Jackie Brown —
“Jackie Brown.”
Besides Jackie Brown?
“Jackie Brown.”
But beside that?
“Brown, Jackie.”On Jackie Brown —
– She prepared for the role by spending a night in a real jail cell.
– Quentin took three days to light a particularly complex scene, in which Ordell tries to murder Jackie. The challenging scene required her to rehearse for 4 hours.
– In order to match Michael Keaton’s intensity, she refrained from using the bathroom for hours to enhance her own edginess.
It was incredibly satisfying not only to see Kansas City’s love for Pam, but the diversity of the audience. I’ve always considered Pam a living symbol of female empowerment, and that belief was certainly supported by the adoration of the lady fans in the audience, who dominated (in a good way) the Q&A.
After the Q&A, Quentin Tarantino’s Jackie Brown was screened. I’d personally only seen it once before, and since then have become a much more knowledgeable fan of 70s and blaxploitation cinema, picking up on the musical cues, font choices, an appearance by Sid Haig, and even a clip from Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry. It’s great that this stunning film has picked up fans over the years and come to be appreciated as something more than “the one after Pulp Fiction that wasn’t really like Pulp Fiction”.
Thanks so much to Pam Grier for coming to KC and hanging out with us, and to Kansas City Comic Con, Elite Comics, and the Alamo Drafthouse for putting on the show!
Pam Grier is currently a special guest at Kansas City Comic Con, happening this weekend at Bartle Hall.
– A/V Out.
-
THE ARCHIVIST VOLUME XXIII: Christopher Lee — A Late Tribute To A Late Legend
by Ryan Lewellen
The Archivist — Welcome to the Archive. Following the infamous “Format Wars” (R.I.P. VHS), a multitude of films found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their admittedly niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Disc On Demand and Streaming service devoted to some of the more idiosyncratic pieces of cinema ever made. Being big fans of the label, we here at Cinapse thought it prudent to establish a column devoted to these unusual gems. Thus “The Archivist” was born — a biweekly look at some of the best, boldest and most batshit motion pictures the Shield has to offer. Some of these will be recent additions to the collection, while others will be titles that have been available for awhile. With over 1,500 pictures procurable on Warner Archive (and more being added every month), there’s no possible way we’ll get to all of them. But trust me when we say we’re sure going to try.
Welcome back to The Archivist.
God, do you hear that sorrowful tone? I didn’t even give you an exclamation point on that sucker. Well, that’s because this week is the first, official, “farewell” episode to a great performer. Sir Christopher Lee was so many people: a real-life secret agent, an actor best known for playing an incomparable array of villains, and an opera and heavy metal musician. Movie fans will undoubtedly remember him for years to come as Saruman, but long before the 2000s, he was Dracula in a series of Hammer productions, and even longer before, he was Fu Manchu in five feature films. Based on a series of novels by British Author Sax Rohmer, Fu Manchu is considered to be the first supervillain of fiction. He is also, unfortunately, an ethnic stereotype, and the namesake for the eponymous facial hair arrangement.
Political incorrectness and moustaches notwithstanding, two titles from the 60s Fu Manchu franchise are on the Warner Archives label, and almost certainly the most interesting films in the collection starring Christopher Lee.
If only either movie was any damn good…
THE FACE OF FU MANCHU (1965)
Christopher Lee made his first appearance as the mustachioed menace in 1965… and died. No origin story here. Fu Manchu is already an established world threat, and Scotland Yard’s Nayland Smith (Nigel Green) has defeated him. Yet, somehow seeing his arch nemesis beheaded just doesn’t quite convince the calculating Smith this is the end of Fu Manchu. Indeed, his instincts serve him well, as it is discovered the old reprobate had hypnotized a double, and is concocting a scheme to take over the world with the help of an airborne toxin.
As the 96-minute feature drags on, there just isn’t much to appreciate. Lee has relatively little screen time, and the capable Green (who played one of my favorite versions of Hercules in Jason and the Argonauts) isn’t given much to work with as the film’s leading man. There are a couple charming B-quality moments, but the plodding pace, void of wit, action, and interesting characters can’t keep one’s interest for long.
THE VENGEANCE OF FU MANCHU (1967)
In the third installment of this series, I had hoped I would catch these films reaching their stride. This was not the case, in yet another film which provides little entertainment. Christopher Lee returns as the title character, this time creating a Franken-double of Nayland Smith (played here by Douglas Wilmer) to replace the kidnapped detective, while forming a worldwide mafia of outstanding criminals.
Does that sound like a pointless plan? It is! It works perfectly, and with Smith’s phony twin going on trial for the murder of his assistant (the surgeon performed the implausible plastic surgery only on the stand-in’s face — why did no one check the imposter’s finger prints?), Fu Manchu needlessly waits until the peusdo-Smith is executed to kill the real detective, which, of course, allows him to make a daring escape.
Vengeance is even less fun than Face, and only offers a couple smirks in the form of the two ridiculous songs performed by a side-character, whose subplot serves the film about as usefully as a Republican legislator does an educator. There is some weak karate fighting done by a Chinese detective, but that too is stale. The films neither deserve, nor showcase the talents of the late Christopher Lee, and make the viewer (this viewer, at least) wonder what the big deal is when it comes to Fu Manchu. He is equally dull and offensive.
This isn’t quite the tribute I imagined for such a great dude.
RIP Christopher Lee.
-
The Archivist Volume XXII: Cursed Lovers!
by Ryan Lewellen
Styled box
Welcome to the Archive. Following the infamous “Format Wars” (R.I.P. VHS), a multitude of films found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their admittedly niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Disc On Demand and Streaming service devoted to some of the more idiosyncratic pieces of cinema ever made. Being big fans of the label, we here at Cinapse thought it prudent to establish a column devoted to these unusual gems. Thus “The Archivist” was born — a biweekly look at some of the best, boldest and most batshit motion pictures the Shield has to offer. Some of these will be recent additions to the collection, while others will be titles that have been available for awhile. With over 1,500 pictures procurable on Warner Archive (and more being added every month), there’s no possible way we’ll get to all of them. But trust me when we say we’re sure going to try.
Here we are again. Another Other week in the Every of it all, and another duo of odd and under-seen films has graced my desk, courtesy of The Warner Archive Collection. This installment, just in time for… nothing in particular, features two fantasy stories about people desperate to love under the oppression of a curse! All-star casts, flashy costuming, and gorgeous cinematography abound in this double feature of doomed romance.
SHE (1965)
In the mid-60s, legendary B-movie studio Hammer produced its most expensive film to date in She, starring Ursula Andress, John Richardson, Peter Cushing, and Christopher Lee. Based on a novel by H. Rider Haggard, the movie follows the adventures of a trio of British soldiers fresh out of WWI in Palestine. Andress, a 2,000 year-old goddess, believes Richardson is her long-dead boyfriend, whom she executed in a rage of envy. Richardson would, of course, be down with fully-fledged boyfriendship to Ursula Andress, if it weren’t for the distracting cuteness of one of her villagers (Rosenda Monteros). He can’t quite decide between immortality with the goddess, and the earthly pleasures of her underling, and honey… that ain’t cool with She Who Must Be Obeyed.
I would love to tell you this movie is a campy blast, a lost Hammer film you need to have on your radar, but this is sadly not the case. She is more like She Who Fails To Keep One Awake. It’s downright dull. The characters are stock, or in Richardson’s case, completely empty, and the story is dreadfully slow. Save for some fleeting whimsy in dialogue, the film has little to offer until the final 30 minutes. Then, it all but makes up for the first 2/3 of the running time with intense and viscously bleak developments. So dark and unexpected is the fate of Monteros’ character that I anticipated its reveal as a red herring right up until the credits rolled. Beyond that, Christopher Lee is mostly wasted in a boring supporting role, and the modest effects aren’t the kind of ridiculous that makes you smile, but rather tilt your head in confusion. The costuming deserves a mention, particularly the crazy hawk/feather robe thing Andress wears for most of the second half. “Fabulous” is the only fitting word for it. Peter Cushing’s exciting performance as a passionate voice-of-reason professor is also a high-point, just not high enough to redeem this mostly bland affair.
On the other hand, we have the fun and clever Ladyhawke.
LADYHAWKE (1985)
First, I need to give credit where due: this is yet another gorgeous Blu-ray from The Archive Collection showcasing superbly beautiful cinematography. So far, they really know how to choose the essential films for the HD format.
Phillipe “The Mouse” Gaston (Matthew Broderick) lives up to his name in escaping from the believed-to-be-inescapable prison of Aquila, a kingdom ruled by a hedonistic and fascistic bishop (John Wood). He is barely free before the threat of recapture is thwarted by Captain Etienne Navarre (Rutgar Hauer). Navarre plans to use Gaston to enter Aquila and kill the Bishop, who cursed him and his partner, Isabeau D’Anjou (Michelle Pfeiffer). By day, she is a hawk, and by night, he is a wolf, and the two have not touched or spoken since the envious bishop conjured a hex from Satan himself.
There are a couple major flaws in this relic from the 80s. For one, the score makes it tragically dated. This movie’s music is so out of place, it almost sounds like an expiration date. Trust me when I tell you, the whacky, jaunty synth-driven tunes composed by Andrew Powell and Alan Parsons (Yes: THAT Alan Parsons) simply don’t match the sweeping scenery, and medieval adventuring. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself laughing at otherwise inappropriate moments.
The movie also has a major writing flaw that doesn’t make any damn sense. It’s too complicated to sort it out in this brief write-up, and it doesn’t cause so much damage as to make the film fall apart, but it is an odd dramatic element that makes Hauer’s character seem completely unwise. Beyond those small quirks, LadyHawke is a blast. It features one of Matthew Broderick’s better performances, particularly in the early days of his career, and I haven’t enjoyed him this much since Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Matching the cinematography, Michelle Pfeiffer is at her most beautiful, and once this movie is finally down to get the swords fighting, they fight brutally hard. And a good sword fight is pretty hard to come by in today’s cinema. See it. It’s like candy for your eyes, even if it is mostly vomit for your ears.
-
The Archivist Volume XXI: Therrrre Wolf, Therrre Albert Finney
by Ryan Lewellen
The Archivist
Welcome to the Archive. Following the infamous “Format Wars” (R.I.P. VHS), a multitude of films found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their admittedly niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Disc On Demand and Streaming service devoted to some of the more idiosyncratic pieces of cinema ever made. Being big fans of the label, we here at Cinapse thought it prudent to establish a column devoted to these unusual gems. Thus “The Archivist” was born — a biweekly look at some of the best, boldest and most batshit motion pictures the Shield has to offer. Some of these will be recent additions to the collection, while others will be titles that have been available for awhile. With over 1,500 pictures procurable on Warner Archive (and more being added every month), there’s no possible way we’ll get to all of them. But trust me when we say we’re sure going to try.
Archivists, watch your asses, and watch ’em good, because the critters in these two werewolf flicks aren’t picky about when they attack. Full moon? Crescent moon? Man in the moon? It seems the size or shape of earth’s natural satellite doesn’t figure. What’s more important is whether or not the moon is bad… or if you have been bad. Two hair-raising films from the Warner vaults, both of them toying with the cinematic tropes of the lycanthropes (one of them, a brand-spanking-new Blu-ray release), and they are both a howling good time. I did all I could to stave these beasts off until October, but I simply could not wait any longer. If you dig werewolf movies, and you need a break after your hundredth viewing of The Howling or An American Werewolf in London, these are two exciting companion pieces to any favorite wolfman movie.
BAD MOON (1996)
I am going to be completely honest with you, our first picture for the week sucks. That doesn’t mean you won’t have some fun watching it, though. Bad Moon, as the opening credits told me, is based on a novel named Thor. That confounded me. The pre-credits sequence involved our lead character, Ted (Michael Pare) getting laid in the jungle, when a werewolf tears his lover away… and apart… infecting Pare in the process, before the monster’s head is blown to smithereens with a shotgun. Thor? Maybe, if the Norwegian god took up a Gallagher-esque comedy routine and swapped his hammer for a ten gauge?
My confusion was quickly settled. As the music swells, it is revealed Thor is the name of the family dog, belonging to Janet (Mariel Hemingway), who is Ted’s sister. That is the one intriguing quality this movie has to offer. The central conflict is between a man who is losing himself to his evil side, and a dog determined to keep his family safe. Therefore, the story is largely told from the dog’s perspective. That’s a challenging movie to make, and this one is by no means a success. It is extremely violent (and it certainly delivers for you gore-hounds), but it swings from those gnarly and disturbing images to a light and fluffy family tone when Thor is in a scene with anyone other than the monster. We’re talking Beethoven tone, here. It’s also the kind of low-budget horror film that doesn’t seem to understand how humans work. The performances are so odd, and the character’s choices are so stupid, you start to wonder if this wasn’t really a movie, but a series of holograms assembled by aliens in an attempt to better understand us. The experiment certainly failed, but the result is still a unique and rare (and short) chapter in the book of the werewolf movie.
The dog gives the best performance.
WOLFEN (1981)
For our second feature, Woodstock director Michael Wadleigh brings you a completely fresh take on the idea of a werewolf. In Wolfen, a high-powered magnate, his wife, and their bodyguard are all brutally murdered in Battery Park. Baffling the police, the slaying couldn’t quite have been done by a human, but doesn’t appear to be done by any known animal, either. The NYPD chooses to call on grizzled, semi-retired, semi-alcoholic, and completely disillusioned detective, Dewey Wilson (the incomparable Albert Finney). With Dewey on the case, teamed with a morgue orderly (Gregory Hines) and a criminal psychologist (Diane Venora), the mystery grows deeper and darker, until no one can be completely certain who is doing the killing, from a gang of native Americans, to a terrorist cell, to an ancient species of god-like wolves.
Albert Finney stumbles, stares, and slurs his way through an astonishingly understated performance. Wadleigh, who had only directed non-fiction features up to this point, has an incredible talent for pulling natural acting from his cast. Every player disappears into his or her character to such a convincing degree, you start to forget you are watching one of the coolest ensembles ever assembled. Edward James Olmos plays a mysterious Native American. The great Tom Noonan has a small role as a bashful zoologist. Even Tom Waits appears for a moment, crooning in Albert Finney’s favorite dive bar (nice choice, Al).
But acting… SHMACKTING! What about the rest of the incredible work being done in this picture? The good folks at the Warner Archives have, from what I have had the pleasure of witnessing thus far, made perfect choices for the somewhat exclusive Blu-ray disc upgrade. Wolfen is no exception. This movie looks incredible, and the transfer couldn’t be nicer. Its dreamlike images, formed in exquisite framing and lighting, are practically cinematography porn. You would be frightened if you could just stop concentrating on how beautiful it is. All that conventional stuff is great, but I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention its use of “monster vision,” via Steadicam and some kind of color negative, which was directly ripped off by Predator and several other films. This movie might not be perfect, but it is inventive, artfully rendered, and supremely entertaining. See it, before the next full moon!
-
The Archivist Volume XX: Giant Monsters Eatin’ People! — With Ray Harryhausen
by Ryan Lewellen
The Archivist
Welcome to the Archive. Following the infamous “Format Wars” (R.I.P. VHS), a multitude of films found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their admittedly niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Disc On Demand and Streaming service devoted to some of the more idiosyncratic pieces of cinema ever made. Being big fans of the label, we here at Cinapse thought it prudent to establish a column devoted to these unusual gems. Thus “The Archivist” was born — a biweekly look at some of the best, boldest and most batshit motion pictures the Shield has to offer. Some of these will be recent additions to the collection, while others will be titles that have been available for awhile. With over 1,500 pictures procurable on Warner Archive (and more being added every month), there’s no possible way we’ll get to all of them. But trust me when we say we’re sure going to try.
Archivateers, a week from now, there will be, for better or worse, a new Jurassic Park movie in theaters. To prep for what we can only hope will be a rousing two hours of screaming and stomping, I dug into the Warner back catalogue in search of a few dinosaur flicks from the pre-digital era. Semi-eureka! … as I have (in predictable Archivist fashion) found a dud, and a delight. From the height of the American radioactive monster era comes, The Giant Behemoth, and from the twilight of Ray Harryhausen’s special effects career comes, The Valley Of Gwangi. Both films keep you in suspense of their giant antagonists’ tremendous countenance, but only one is worth the wait.
THE GIANT BEHEMOTH (1959)
In 1959, a joint venture between American and British filmmakers began as a story about a blob of radiation challenging the survival of the human race, and resulted in a shameless rip-off of the far superior The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms. Nearly a clone of that 1953 predecessor, Behemoth opens with an unseen monster rising from the ocean and spewing radiation at a small fishing village. Along the way, his torso gets a lot of screen time (that is apparently the centralized radiation emitter), as does his pathetically stiff neck and head, and the classic stop-motion effects which got us into the theater (or into our underwear in the home office, in our case) don’t arrive until the third act. At that moment, when the monster finally comes to life, so the does the film, but it’s too little, too late.
We are doomed to spend most of our time with a cast of uncharismatic scientist characters, who are allotted seemingly endless amounts of time in which to explain EVERYTHING about radioactivity. That’s all somewhat interesting, but a brief sequence featuring the top half of the monster idly bumping into, and sinking, a toy ferry, looking more like a duck hunter’s decoy than a mutated terror, wasn’t quite enough to get us through another 15 minutes of meaningless “blah blah blah”. It is meaningless, too, leaving every ounce of subtext and symbolism found in Godzilla, and the films it influenced, in a cinematic mushroom cloud of triviality. Not every creature feature from the nuclear age was meant to stand the test of time, and even on four legs, this one can’t stand the test of 80 minutes.
THE VALLEY OF GWANGI (1969)
Between Behemoth and Gwangi, there are many noteworthy connections, but none so intriguing as that of the great Willis O’Brien. Let me count the ways: Ray Harryhausen finished The Valley of Gwangi for O’Bien, his mentor. The film is, in many ways, a pastiche of The Lost World (1925) and King Kong (1933), two films upon which O’Brien built his career. Behemoth’s special effects shots were begrudgingly contracted to Willis O’Brien for a pittance, and the project was given to his assistant who was suffering from M.S. at the time. It’s amazing the animation looked so good.
Aside from The Willis O’Brien Connection, Ray Harryhausen’s jaunty cowboys Vs. dinosaurs tale also profoundly influenced Jurassic Park, and its first sequel. You can actually see the structure of Spielberg’s Lost World taking root in Harryhausen’s picture: two parties with opposing objectives venture into a secret valley ruled by long-extinct creatures, and are forced to band together in order to survive. Sure, they are all a bunch of cowboys involved in a Wild West show instead of corporate mercenaries and eco-terrorists/paleontologists, but they even come up with the same terrible idea of bringing a T. Rex back to civilization for a new, one-of-a-kind act.
It won’t blow your mind, and even compared to the other lesser-known works of the late stop-motion wizard, Gwangi isn’t anything super special. However, following The Giant Behemoth, it does make for a fine reminder of how to make quality adventure cinema. The characters are exciting and colorful. They are skilled performers, fast-talkers, and provide for a much-needed jocularity, considering the silly premise. It’s a shame, though, the whole movie couldn’t be great, because Ray Harryhausen always shows up for work, no matter what the project is. He does some truly extraordinary work, and instills that magical touch of character only he can, in every creature on the screen. Unfortunately, the script doesn’t quite keep his pace, but the insane, weirdly metaphorical climax (it could be saying the Christian faith can’t stand up to the existence of dinosaurs — I don’t want to say too much), and plenty of other fun moments, make this a film worth tracking down.
If you’re gearing up to see Jurassic World, pick up Gwangi, and maybe The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms, but maybe leave the Behemoth at the bottom of the sea.
-
The Archivist Volume XIX: The MAD MAX Edition
by Ryan Lewellen
The Archivist
Welcome to the Archive. Following the infamous “Format Wars” (R.I.P. VHS), a multitude of films found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their admittedly niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Disc On Demand and Streaming service devoted to some of the more idiosyncratic pieces of cinema ever made. Being big fans of the label, we here at Cinapse thought it prudent to establish a column devoted to these unusual gems. Thus “The Archivist” was born — a biweekly look at some of the best, boldest and most batshit motion pictures the Shield has to offer. Some of these will be recent additions to the collection, while others will be titles that have been available for awhile. With over 1,500 pictures procurable on Warner Archive (and more being added every month), there’s no possible way we’ll get to all of them. But trust me when we say we’re sure going to try.
G’day Archiveys, I have an extra-special treat for you this week. With Mad Max: Fury Road still barreling through cinemas, it seems appropriate we should celebrate its extravagance with films covering the OZploitative, as well as the Apocalyptic. Here, we find two titles which are not necessarily excellent companion pieces to each other, but compliment the Mad Max Oeuvre beautifully. They are stylish, rugged, mostly insane, and the latter of the two even shares cast and crew in common with The Road Warrior. Buckle up, horde your weapons and ammo, and pack the Tums, because shit’s about to get messy.
NO BLADE OF GRASS (1970)
ASDAS
In No Blade Of Grass, A mysterious, plant-killing virus is quickly creating a food shortage. Once riots envelop London, a wealthy Briton escapes with his family on a long and treacherous journey to his brother’s farm. The treachery runs the typical Armageddon gamut of rape, robbery, cannibalism, and belligerent biker gangs. The entire cast quickly exchanges its humanity for a new survival code, and the movie is surprisingly relentless in forcing you to practically bath in the debauchery. Every gunshot wound is bloody. The rapes are brutal and cruel. This is a new world with no rules, and the movie doesn’t seem to have any, either. Yet, despite is unflinching grotesquery and valiant effort to tell the story artfully, it yields a nagging made-for-television, after school special quality and tone.
The whole thing is cheap. A major part of the blame rests on the tragically dated music. Every time a delicate flute lulls itself to sleep, or a wah-wah guitar tries to funk up an action sequence, I couldn’t not be distracted by memories of educational film strips from my elementary school days. That “THIS MOVIE WAS MADE IN THE SEVENTIES” musical announcement cuts right through any solemn message its painful events might try to convey. The lighting is bland (though the framing is on-point), and the acting and writing are humdrum. In the end, the project mostly feels obsolete and pointless, despite how many of its environmental issues are contemporary concerns. Still, you have to hand it to a film which, had it found an audience, could clearly have been a major influence on so many memorable works to come. Fortunately for us, the influence came from several similar pictures.
RAZORBACK (1984)
Razorback, on the other hand, is a lively blast of intense style. American journalist, Beth Winters, heads to Australia, hoping she can break a story on animal poaching by a pet food company. When she discovers, the very hard way, not all outback critters are helpless prey, her husband, Carl, follows her to the Down Under, hoping to discover his missing wife’s fate. Along the way, he meets Jake (a kind of half-breed between Quint from Jaws, and Captain Ahab), who lost his grandson to an enormous wild boar. Aside from Jake, the film holds many other similarities to Jaws, and every other monster movie Jaws influenced. There is a framework here that won’t exactly keep you guessing, but the film’s surreal imagery will surprise you often.
Right from the start, director Russell Mulcahy is putting a unique stamp on Razorback, showing his eclectic experience as a prolific music video director. Its familiar story and stock characters may not stick with me, but Mulcahy’s shots, aided by Dean Semler’s (The Road Warrior) keen eye for eerie cinematography, will never leave me (I’ve already had a dream about this movie). The film is overflowing with eye-watering visions, gut-wrenching violence, and just a little touch of sex, but it was one of the least successful works from late in the ozploitation era. I can see why, considering the third act is nothing but predictable monster movie plotting, and a gallon of 80s cheese whiz. It even ends on a freeze frame, for god’s sake. Even so, this is a film well worth your time because it shows you so much you have never seen before, and showcases the talents of, as mentioned above, the great Dean Semler, as well as actress Arkie Whitely (the headband/pony tail lady from The Road Warrior), and further connection to Mad Max 2 as it was mostly filmed at Broken Hill. Max is all over this thing, making it a delight for any dedicated cinephile. Seeing these elements in a new setting is truly fascinating.
If you still haven’t seen Mad Max: Fury Road (What the hell is wrong with you? Haven’t you been reading this site?), go see that five times, watch the second film in the series twice, then watch Razorback. You can watch No Blade Of Grass if you insist, but don’t tell them I sent you.
-
THE PYRAMID Should Be Entombed
by Ryan Lewellen
During the 2013 Egyptian protests, a father-daughter team of archeologists discovers a buried pyramid unlike any other manmade structure. A documentary crew is cataloguing their progress, when the social unrest begins threatening their dig. Fully intending to leave, they decide to use what little time they have sending a rover, on loan from NASA, into their discovery to satisfy their collective curiosity. When the brave (and expensive) robot goes missing, however, they are forced to search for it, get lost immediately, and make one stupid decision after another until they are all dead. Trust me. That’s not spoiling a damn thing.
I was lured into watching this boo-boo by the promise it was “accidental comedy” material. It was certainly an accident, but there isn’t much to laugh at in this joyless affair. The characters are non-existent, the performances are weak, the script is thin to the point of vanishing, the effects are something out of 90s television, and worst of all, it ruins a perfectly cool idea.
Here is the deal. I am ASKING you not to watch this movie, because it is a waste of your time. I don’t care if you spend all of your time sticking q-tips too far into your ear, and never learning from the experience. That sounds like a fulfilling afternoon activity compared to watching The Pyramid. So, the big third-act discovery is something I feel no guilt in revealing and discussing in this review. You have been warned.
It turns out this pyramid was buried for a damn good reason. The gods of ancient Egypt were very real. The most dreaded and still earthbound among them was Anubis, who started tearing out the still-beating hearts of his followers in search of a soul pure enough to reunite him with his father, Osiris, in the afterlife. After a few centuries of their organs being weighed against Ma’at, it seems the people of Egypt decided to dispatch this nasty tyrant (an intriguing comparison to the modern day uprising which is the film’s setting). The team is being chased by a bunch of bony cat demons, and then by something larger, and then, there he is: Jackyl-headed Anubis, completely robbed of his glory by terrible CGI and a complete lack of understanding in the composition department.
How cool could that have been? That is a really creepy and fun idea! In more capable hands, this phoned-in act of boredom could have been a beauty of a low-budget horror film! They manage to get a few nasty deaths in there, including some face melting, but there is very little entertainment to speak of, and absolutely no intellectual engagement to note. It can’t even choose a format.
This movie begins in found footage. It gives you a brief preface about a disappearance, and opens on a number of first person perspective handheld shots during the exposition. Then, as though the pyramid has a maximum occupancy rule, a new camera seems to be added every time a cast member bites the dust. They don’t entirely give up on the primary format, however, and if anything could make found footage less effective, it would most certainly be half-assed found footage. The movie insists on cutting back to the perspective of the documentary cameraman, who is truly shooting all of this for no reason, since their cameras are not the only way we can witness these events. The ineptitude boggles the mind. That lack of continuity, if nothing else, will finally give you something to think about while watching, other than who could possibly have thought up the line, “When will you stop being an archeologist and start being a human being?”
Avoid.
The Pyramid is now available on Blu-ray and DVD from Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment
-
The Archivist Volume XVIII — Spectacular Animation From Ralph Bakshi And Chuck Jones
by Ryan Lewellen
Welcome to the Archive. Following the infamous “Format Wars” (R.I.P. VHS), a multitude of films found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their admittedly niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Disc On Demand and Streaming service devoted to some of the more idiosyncratic pieces of cinema ever made. Being big fans of the label, we here at Cinapse thought it prudent to establish a column devoted to these unusual gems. Thus “The Archivist” was born — a biweekly look at some of the best, boldest and most batshit motion pictures the Shield has to offer. Some of these will be recent additions to the collection, while others will be titles that have been available for awhile. With over 1,500 pictures procurable on Warner Archive (and more being added every month), there’s no possible way we’ll get to all of them. But trust me when we say we’re sure going to try.
So glad you could all make it, you children-of-all-ages, back to The Archivist! I am so excited to have had the chance to see two almost-forgotten animated features from two giants of American fine-tooning. Chuck Jones had an illustrious career in the realms of Looney Tunes as well as Merrie Melodies, and for his picking up the Tom And Jerry torch and producing 34 episodes with a completely distinct style. Ralph Bakshi, who might unfortunately be renowned solely for directing Fritz The Cat and The Lord Of The Rings, has a rich filmography comprised of groundbreaking and controversial features that hypnotize and provoke. The Warner Archives offers a variety of animated gems, possibly none so intriguing as the two I watched this week.
THE PHANTOM TOLLBOOTH
In 1970, Chuck Jones and his collaborators adapted Norman Juster’s beloved children’s book, The Phantom Tollbooth, into a cinematic beauty. “What’s to become of Milo?” asks the perfectly syrupy ’70s opening theme. A fine question, considering the song’s subject is a boy living a life of privilege and comfort, who seems to have no interest in living, at all. He stares blankly into the void during the many important lessons of the school day, and mopes his way home, oblivious to the exciting sights and sounds his daily route provides in abundance. On this day, however, a mysterious package arrives, transforms into a tollbooth promising thrills, and Milo is transformed into an animated adventurer. On his journey through The Doldrums, Dictionopolis, Digitopolis, and other such places, he makes colorful friends, battles a few monsters, sings a couple of songs, and learns paramount lessons in leading a valuable life.
If you can’t get your kid to read, sit that ignorant little butt down in front of this movie! This is the kind of art that stimulates a young mind from as many angles as possible, and proves not only that learning is fun and important, but also that knowledge can be used to entertain and improve the world. Who knows? It could even make a reader out of her/him. I don’t want to make this sound like Sesame Street; Milo is on a perilous journey! He uses his imagination to escape demons, he uses logic to reunite kingdoms, and literally uses wordplay to kill racism, hypocrisy, stagnation. The movie is slightly dated (he uses “industry” to fight “laziness”) and doesn’t exactly move at the perfect clip, but it boasts plenty of wondrous sites and ideas to hold your attention and imagination. Check ‘er out.
HEY GOOD LOOKIN’
From a film that seems to have everything on its mind, we transition to Ralph Bakshi’s Hey Good Lookin’, a film which appears to have nothing on its mind, other than a serious breast fetish. Intended as a combination of live action and animation (a feat he would later achieve with Cool World), Bakshi’s film about a pair of greaser gang leaders occupied by the dual mission of ruling the streets and getting laid claims, in its tagline, to “bring you the outrageous ’50s the way they really were.” Apparently the ’50s were terrifying. The amorphous character forms stretch and skew and writhe their way through the movie. Not in that charming Bakshi way, either. I am telling you watching this film is mostly like watching somebody’s limp, rubbery nightmares. The visuals are taxing, but also stimulating (in more than one way), and most viewers won’t be able to look away. The real problem is the script.
Who knows what must have been lost during the long process between the director’s creative inception and the cut the studio finally agreed to release. The result, as it is immortalized on DVD, is a film mostly about misogyny, cowardice, and insanity. Women are not treated well at all in or by the movie, and the final moments of the third act are so baffling, I was almost angry for having watched it. Examining the framing device, however, and a couple of other faintly outlined thematic elements, one could draw up a concept of a critique of proceeding generations’ blind faith in the existence of “the good old days.” There is a particularly sharp bit opening the film involving garbage, and a garbage can, debating the existence of heaven. The movie seems to stumble so far from that biting satire long before it circles back around to a similar idea, it resolves with a feeling of pointlessness. Still, if you’re a Bakshi completist (and you should be), I doubt you will feel your time been wasted.
So slick back your hair, open your mind, and venture your way into a land of boobies and syntax! It’s double feature time!
