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Argh. If you don't have enough reasons to hate this Friday the 13th, then here's one more: news reached me just this morning of Fred Ward's passing.
Just last night, the wifey and I were speaking about my collection of DVDs regarding Science Fiction and Fantasy; and I had remarked how the latest release of Tremors (1990) from Arrow Video was a keeper. I had just been thinking about the man's incredible performance in that brilliant film, and now not even twenty-fours later he's gone. Argh. This one hurts.
Ward -- for what this is worth -- always came across as a blue-collar type of actor to me. I've not read anything about his background and professional study, but he just always possessed a kind of likable earnestness to him on screen. His genre credentials are the stuff of small(ish) legend, and I'll recount them below.
In 1979, he enjoyed a pair of visits (in different roles) to television's popular The Incredible Hulk series -- still one of the best serialized TV shows ever. In 1982, fans of SciFi/Camp were thrilled with his work in Timerider: The Adventure Of Lyle Swann, the yarn of a modern day motorcycle rider who found himself thrown back into the days of the Wild West well before Marty McFly and Doc Brown double-backed there. But it was probably his work in 1985's Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins that truly put him on the genre map. This big screen adaptation of 'The Destroyer' series of novels was thought to be a potential franchise for the man, but alas it wasn't meant to be. (There are indications that a second film was planned -- or perhaps did evolve into a telefilm of some type -- but I'm coming up empty on research.)
Then came Tremors (1990) ... and I guess I thought at the time such an inspired performance as one of the big leads would've led to more opportunities for the actor. It's hard to say specifically -- I know that, in its original run, the movie really underperformed and it wasn't until the home video release that it truly took off -- but I guess if silver screen success were that easy everyone would find it. Stilll, it's some genius work in a genius film, and I encourage everyone to check it out if you haven't already.
As always, thoughts and prayers are extended to the family and friends of Mr. Ward.
-- EZ
Just last night, the wifey and I were speaking about my collection of DVDs regarding Science Fiction and Fantasy; and I had remarked how the latest release of Tremors (1990) from Arrow Video was a keeper. I had just been thinking about the man's incredible performance in that brilliant film, and now not even twenty-fours later he's gone. Argh. This one hurts.
Ward -- for what this is worth -- always came across as a blue-collar type of actor to me. I've not read anything about his background and professional study, but he just always possessed a kind of likable earnestness to him on screen. His genre credentials are the stuff of small(ish) legend, and I'll recount them below.
In 1979, he enjoyed a pair of visits (in different roles) to television's popular The Incredible Hulk series -- still one of the best serialized TV shows ever. In 1982, fans of SciFi/Camp were thrilled with his work in Timerider: The Adventure Of Lyle Swann, the yarn of a modern day motorcycle rider who found himself thrown back into the days of the Wild West well before Marty McFly and Doc Brown double-backed there. But it was probably his work in 1985's Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins that truly put him on the genre map. This big screen adaptation of 'The Destroyer' series of novels was thought to be a potential franchise for the man, but alas it wasn't meant to be. (There are indications that a second film was planned -- or perhaps did evolve into a telefilm of some type -- but I'm coming up empty on research.)
Then came Tremors (1990) ... and I guess I thought at the time such an inspired performance as one of the big leads would've led to more opportunities for the actor. It's hard to say specifically -- I know that, in its original run, the movie really underperformed and it wasn't until the home video release that it truly took off -- but I guess if silver screen success were that easy everyone would find it. Stilll, it's some genius work in a genius film, and I encourage everyone to check it out if you haven't already.
As always, thoughts and prayers are extended to the family and friends of Mr. Ward.
-- EZ
- Published on
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com citation:
“In a dystopic and crime-ridden Detroit, a terminally wounded cop returns to the force as a powerful cyborg haunted by submerged memories.”
I’m not gonna mince words: simply put, Paul Verhoeven’s RoboCop remains one of Science Fiction’s best films. Ever. It’s regarded as such by a great many people – all far more educated and erudite than I am – for a great many reasons, but I’ll try to explain why I agree without belaboring too many of the finer points.
RoboCop emerged on the cusp of the whole ‘tech noir’ movement largely launched by films like Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982) and James Cameron’s The Terminator (1984). In one sense, RoboCop kinda/sorta responded to the trend toward rising violence in these films with an almost mocking sentimentality: whereas other features portrayed the loss of life as part of the narrative process, RoboCop largely lampooned its bloodshed by – in a showman’s secret once revealed by Spinal Tap – dialing it up to eleven. Instead of shooting hundreds of victims with a single bullet each, director Paul Verhoeven – by comparison – captured a single victim – the OCP junior executive Kinney – riddled with hundreds of bullets! (As they say, turnabout is fair play!) Actor Kevin Page certainly left an imprint on screen history as the director’s cut shows him suffering a cruel, cruel fate at the mechanical hands of the ED-209 while his corporate counterparts stand around aghast at the development. And his blood certainly left an imprint on the model city that served as his managerial deathbed.
Indeed, Detroit officer Alex Murphy went down similarly not all that much later in the film. The director’s cut amped up the gunplay considerably, even daring to show a shot previously removed by motion picture censors: Murphy right hand was blasted off – and then his entire right arm – by Clarence Boddicker and his band of heavily-armed thugs … but his fate is another story … namely, the one we’re all here to hear. It was a torturous exit that had to happen, and it was the first step in a journey that would offer Murphy revenge and redemption by the feature’s end.
From the film’s IMDB.com citation:
“In a dystopic and crime-ridden Detroit, a terminally wounded cop returns to the force as a powerful cyborg haunted by submerged memories.”
I’m not gonna mince words: simply put, Paul Verhoeven’s RoboCop remains one of Science Fiction’s best films. Ever. It’s regarded as such by a great many people – all far more educated and erudite than I am – for a great many reasons, but I’ll try to explain why I agree without belaboring too many of the finer points.
RoboCop emerged on the cusp of the whole ‘tech noir’ movement largely launched by films like Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982) and James Cameron’s The Terminator (1984). In one sense, RoboCop kinda/sorta responded to the trend toward rising violence in these films with an almost mocking sentimentality: whereas other features portrayed the loss of life as part of the narrative process, RoboCop largely lampooned its bloodshed by – in a showman’s secret once revealed by Spinal Tap – dialing it up to eleven. Instead of shooting hundreds of victims with a single bullet each, director Paul Verhoeven – by comparison – captured a single victim – the OCP junior executive Kinney – riddled with hundreds of bullets! (As they say, turnabout is fair play!) Actor Kevin Page certainly left an imprint on screen history as the director’s cut shows him suffering a cruel, cruel fate at the mechanical hands of the ED-209 while his corporate counterparts stand around aghast at the development. And his blood certainly left an imprint on the model city that served as his managerial deathbed.
Indeed, Detroit officer Alex Murphy went down similarly not all that much later in the film. The director’s cut amped up the gunplay considerably, even daring to show a shot previously removed by motion picture censors: Murphy right hand was blasted off – and then his entire right arm – by Clarence Boddicker and his band of heavily-armed thugs … but his fate is another story … namely, the one we’re all here to hear. It was a torturous exit that had to happen, and it was the first step in a journey that would offer Murphy revenge and redemption by the feature’s end.
Still – like all good Science Fiction films tend to do – RoboCop rises above the conventions of one genre by damn near adopting the best elements of others.
It’s clearly influenced by Westerns (the cyborgified Murphy can’t help his human tendency to twirl his pistol, the way he had done to impress his young son, in a previous life). It’s clearly dishing out Satire (the TV-within-a-film segments mock the way commercialized newscasts deliver gut-wrenching tragedy, and the pervasive ‘I’d buy that for a dollar’ sitcom antics are clearly caricature what mainstream audiences accept as routine entertainment). Yet the film constantly pushes boundaries as it embraces tenets of the buddy-cop picture, the conventional comedy, and even the horror genre. By mixing these components and balancing them perfectly, RoboCop proves itself vastly greater than the sum of its parts in ways lesser films can only try to recapture. (Yes, I’m looking at you – you inferior sequels, rehashes, and even the remake. When all you can do is copy, then you’re decidedly inferior right out of the gate.)
I’ve long argued that this first picture in a still-growing franchise transcends many similar-themed projects precisely because it never takes itself all that seriously. Again, so much of the film parodies (in a wryly comic way) what audiences have come to expect from a quality SciFi/Fantasy story that it even occasionally feels like a series of smaller skits made whole around the story of a man rising above his circumstances in a way no one predicted. Murphy is remade in the eyes of man with the best science had to offer; but – in the last reel – it’s shown that the machine will never be greater than the man because, inevitably, the conscience in his soul is stronger than any program will ever be. Humanity wins … even if it has to remove a thug like Boddicker for good measure. Justice prevails … even if it’s powered by battery.
Granted, some of Robo’s luster has been tarnished a bit with the passage of time, none of it owed to the power of the original. Lead Peter Weller returned for the sequel, and the greater Nancy Allen returned for that and one more. The property has enjoyed an animated television incarnation – along with a half-baked TV spin-off and miniseries, too – but those entities were constructed really more so to ‘cash in’ on the law officer’s enduring popularity than they were to strengthen his legend. The first film, however, remains a bright spot in all of filmdom and continues to inspire those who find it decades later, just the way a classic picture should.
Thankfully, praise for the seminal flick isn’t limited only to its most ardent fans; in fact, one need only look to the awards season to see it garnered some solid and deserved recognition. The 1988 Hugo Awards saw the feature nominated in the category of ‘Best Dramatic Presentation,’ an honor it lost out on to (ahem) The Princess Bride. The Academy Of Science Fiction, Fantasy, And Horror Films was a bit more realistic, giving RoboCop an incredible eight nominations which ended up translating into five big wins in the categories of ‘Best Special Effects,’ ‘Best Make-Up,’ ‘Best Writing,’ ‘Best Director,’ and ‘Best Science Fiction Film.’ Why, even the Academy Of Motion Picture Arts And Sciences got into the act when it awarded the picture a Special Achievement Oscar for sound effects editing.
Take note, friends: RoboCop was then – and remains today – the real deal.
It’s clearly influenced by Westerns (the cyborgified Murphy can’t help his human tendency to twirl his pistol, the way he had done to impress his young son, in a previous life). It’s clearly dishing out Satire (the TV-within-a-film segments mock the way commercialized newscasts deliver gut-wrenching tragedy, and the pervasive ‘I’d buy that for a dollar’ sitcom antics are clearly caricature what mainstream audiences accept as routine entertainment). Yet the film constantly pushes boundaries as it embraces tenets of the buddy-cop picture, the conventional comedy, and even the horror genre. By mixing these components and balancing them perfectly, RoboCop proves itself vastly greater than the sum of its parts in ways lesser films can only try to recapture. (Yes, I’m looking at you – you inferior sequels, rehashes, and even the remake. When all you can do is copy, then you’re decidedly inferior right out of the gate.)
I’ve long argued that this first picture in a still-growing franchise transcends many similar-themed projects precisely because it never takes itself all that seriously. Again, so much of the film parodies (in a wryly comic way) what audiences have come to expect from a quality SciFi/Fantasy story that it even occasionally feels like a series of smaller skits made whole around the story of a man rising above his circumstances in a way no one predicted. Murphy is remade in the eyes of man with the best science had to offer; but – in the last reel – it’s shown that the machine will never be greater than the man because, inevitably, the conscience in his soul is stronger than any program will ever be. Humanity wins … even if it has to remove a thug like Boddicker for good measure. Justice prevails … even if it’s powered by battery.
Granted, some of Robo’s luster has been tarnished a bit with the passage of time, none of it owed to the power of the original. Lead Peter Weller returned for the sequel, and the greater Nancy Allen returned for that and one more. The property has enjoyed an animated television incarnation – along with a half-baked TV spin-off and miniseries, too – but those entities were constructed really more so to ‘cash in’ on the law officer’s enduring popularity than they were to strengthen his legend. The first film, however, remains a bright spot in all of filmdom and continues to inspire those who find it decades later, just the way a classic picture should.
Thankfully, praise for the seminal flick isn’t limited only to its most ardent fans; in fact, one need only look to the awards season to see it garnered some solid and deserved recognition. The 1988 Hugo Awards saw the feature nominated in the category of ‘Best Dramatic Presentation,’ an honor it lost out on to (ahem) The Princess Bride. The Academy Of Science Fiction, Fantasy, And Horror Films was a bit more realistic, giving RoboCop an incredible eight nominations which ended up translating into five big wins in the categories of ‘Best Special Effects,’ ‘Best Make-Up,’ ‘Best Writing,’ ‘Best Director,’ and ‘Best Science Fiction Film.’ Why, even the Academy Of Motion Picture Arts And Sciences got into the act when it awarded the picture a Special Achievement Oscar for sound effects editing.
Take note, friends: RoboCop was then – and remains today – the real deal.
RoboCop (1987) was produced by Orion Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via the super-reliable Arrow Video Films. As for the technical specifications? The advertising slick included with the release indicates that this is a 4K restoration from the original camera negative (provided by MGM) and transferred in 2013: personally, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the film look and sound better, though there remain a few special effects sequences that are clearly not quite perfectly matched to align to light levels of adjacent footage. That’s just something that happens with actual film production of the era.
As for the special features?
Again, I’ve read that an awful lot of these have simply been ‘ported over’ from earlier releases (this happens a lot these days), but I’ll try to give a reasonable summary of what fans can look forward to.
Highest recommendation possible.
If I haven’t been clear, then let me just assert unequivocally that RoboCop (1987) is one of my all-time personal favorite films. As can happen to all of us, some of this is owed to the time and place in which I saw it – during my college years, certainly a formative period – but its enduring legacy and the timelessness of its presentation should never be discounted nor underestimated. Verhoeven, Weller, Allen, and all involved were near the top of their storytelling game when they brought this to life – or is that ‘back to life’ – and I predict it’ll remain influential for a great many years into the future.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Video Films provided me with a complimentary 4K Ultra HD Steelbook of RoboCop (1987) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
As for the special features?
Again, I’ve read that an awful lot of these have simply been ‘ported over’ from earlier releases (this happens a lot these days), but I’ll try to give a reasonable summary of what fans can look forward to.
- First up, the Steelbook provides both the Director’s Cut and the original 1987 Theatrical Cut on separate disks.
- The Director’s Cut disc boasts three different commentary tracks along with an incredible assortment of ‘making of’ and ‘celebratory’ shorts that flesh out the release, its cast and crew, and examine the film’s lasting impact on the industry; some deleted scenes; raw shooting dailies; theatrical trailers; and image galleries. Trust me when I say that you’ll be busy for hours.
- The Theatrical Cut disc has a commentary track; an isolated score track; some release and TV airing comparisons; outtakes; and some recently unearthed extras. Again, Arrow Video proves that they’re no slouch when it comes to giving fans what they want … and then some.
Highest recommendation possible.
If I haven’t been clear, then let me just assert unequivocally that RoboCop (1987) is one of my all-time personal favorite films. As can happen to all of us, some of this is owed to the time and place in which I saw it – during my college years, certainly a formative period – but its enduring legacy and the timelessness of its presentation should never be discounted nor underestimated. Verhoeven, Weller, Allen, and all involved were near the top of their storytelling game when they brought this to life – or is that ‘back to life’ – and I predict it’ll remain influential for a great many years into the future.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Video Films provided me with a complimentary 4K Ultra HD Steelbook of RoboCop (1987) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Sadly, there’s a bit of stupidity most “professional” screenwriters suffer which has them mixing political judgments in their works. Some of the better ones have learned to keep such impulses under control – or, at least, trust in a bit of nuance – but methinks our best days (of screenwriters) are long behind us (if the current crop of flicks is any indication). I read somewhere on the Information Superhighway recently where a critic said Hollywood’s biggest problem these days is that its pictures are written by children, and I think that’s a fair complaint. Childish ideas – along with childlike thoughts – pervade many projects, and viewers have to suffer through some rubbish that should be beneath us culturally.
Yes, I’m up on my high horse this morning, but that’s only because screenwriters Zev Borow and Outer Range creator Brian Watkins have unintentionally foisted me up here. Their episode seven – “The Unknown” – decided it was necessary to tie an unnecessary political opinion into a show that really has no business casting angry aspersions on anything or anyone. Here’s a tip: when you’re dealing with the imaginary, maybe stick with the imaginary? Leave politics to the politicians. Let those of us who choose to escape the daily news cycle by investing in your paranormal drama do so. We’re all better off when we find things we can share in common; dividing us with your anti-America bias will serve no one here. You don’t like this country, then you’re always free to go elsewhere.
At its core, Outer Range is about family, and the outcome of episode six was to fully fracture the Abbotts. Perry’s confession led to his arrest, and the cost for his coming clean is shaping up to be the very land that’s served them generationally. Royal’s stress reached its limits, and he’s forced (at gunpoint) to agree to a spiritual ‘cease fire’ about pursuing Autumn. And Cecilia continues pushing away emotionally from her husband and her children, turning into the arms of a dead bear cub for cold comfort. Good grief!
Naturally, the Tillersons also come to grips with high tension. Billy proves he can’t be trusted keeping secrets and shares the truth about the hole with Luke, who ends up getting all teary-eyed about it for some unexplored reason. Luke also ends up trying to smother dear ol’ dad (another kinda/sorta curious development) before his brother pulls him off, putting the two seemingly at odds yet again. And Billy – ah, yes, there’s something about Billy – reveals an almost homicidal tendency when it comes to protecting Autumn from Royal’s emerging desire to kill her for what she’s done. Talk about your family values!
However, the hour’s closing moments come with what might be the Range’s biggest reveal as it would appear that that fateful hole in the west pasture has a mind of its own, may even close up when it wants to, and might just go elsewhere whenever it wishes. I’m not inclined to dissect this development all that much, but …
Yes, I’m up on my high horse this morning, but that’s only because screenwriters Zev Borow and Outer Range creator Brian Watkins have unintentionally foisted me up here. Their episode seven – “The Unknown” – decided it was necessary to tie an unnecessary political opinion into a show that really has no business casting angry aspersions on anything or anyone. Here’s a tip: when you’re dealing with the imaginary, maybe stick with the imaginary? Leave politics to the politicians. Let those of us who choose to escape the daily news cycle by investing in your paranormal drama do so. We’re all better off when we find things we can share in common; dividing us with your anti-America bias will serve no one here. You don’t like this country, then you’re always free to go elsewhere.
At its core, Outer Range is about family, and the outcome of episode six was to fully fracture the Abbotts. Perry’s confession led to his arrest, and the cost for his coming clean is shaping up to be the very land that’s served them generationally. Royal’s stress reached its limits, and he’s forced (at gunpoint) to agree to a spiritual ‘cease fire’ about pursuing Autumn. And Cecilia continues pushing away emotionally from her husband and her children, turning into the arms of a dead bear cub for cold comfort. Good grief!
Naturally, the Tillersons also come to grips with high tension. Billy proves he can’t be trusted keeping secrets and shares the truth about the hole with Luke, who ends up getting all teary-eyed about it for some unexplored reason. Luke also ends up trying to smother dear ol’ dad (another kinda/sorta curious development) before his brother pulls him off, putting the two seemingly at odds yet again. And Billy – ah, yes, there’s something about Billy – reveals an almost homicidal tendency when it comes to protecting Autumn from Royal’s emerging desire to kill her for what she’s done. Talk about your family values!
However, the hour’s closing moments come with what might be the Range’s biggest reveal as it would appear that that fateful hole in the west pasture has a mind of its own, may even close up when it wants to, and might just go elsewhere whenever it wishes. I’m not inclined to dissect this development all that much, but …
On the face of it, it implies that the hole (for lack of a better word) serves a master, and that master can change on the whims of the individual. Is it somehow tied to the Abbott family? That seems the case as Wayne Tillerson’s lifelong wishes for it have (that we know of) never bore fruit. (He’s certainly been aware of it and wished for it for some time if he is the young boy who saw the equally young Royal climb out of it back in 1968. That’s been implied but never definitively established, so far as I can tell.) Still, it’s the show’s biggest and most curious nugget, and – if it survives to a second season – methinks we’re going to have some explanation … or this show very quickly will head into narrative twists without end much like ABC TV’s Lost did in its worst moments.
It also deserves to be mentioned that – for a family that’s spent a life living off the land – the Abbotts haven’t quite learned some of the lessons of a 101 course. For example, what was Cecilia thinking when she absconded that dead bear cub? Hiding it in some outer shed was only going to increase the possibility that its mother would eventually find it and the episode showed us the end result of that. Again, I’m no rancher, but I know well enough that you don’t mess with dead bodies; how is it that Cece didn’t know better? Is she ignorant to the spoken and unspoken laws of Mother Nature, or are we seeing the seeds for a madness undiagnosed? Is she struggling with something greater than the (rather obvious) clinical depression?
Sadly, Rhett has (for me) turned into the program’s least likable character. Though the first few episodes painted him as one of the more relatable ones – a young buck trying to find his own way against the tide of family while still trying to be respectful of all involved – he’s very quickly turned into this moody loner who seemingly wants nothing to do with anyone around him. He spends the bulk of this installment struggling with his own anger, staring into space, drinking beer, and swearing at Autumn. If those are his daily pursuits, then maybe the family’s better off without him? It’s a sad development for what once seemed to be a bright spot at the Abbott ranch.
Also, Outer Range has been plagued – since its start – by some curious editing issues. I’ve mentioned them before (I believe) in passing, but it bears repeating: too much happens in too little (presented) screen time.
Autumn, in particular, is a character they’ve written as being damn near omnipresent: she’s everywhere and anywhere the script needs, and logic be damned. One minute, she’s in the distant frontier, and the next minute she’s in town – with no means of transportation presented – refilling a prescription at the pharmacy. How is this even remotely possible? Are there, perhaps, more than one of her? Have we been deliberately misinformed? Seemingly, three or four characters interact with her in the scope of what’s presented to be a short span of time – over several different locations about town – and we’re given no plausible explanation for how she can be anywhere almost instantly. It’s either bad writing … or another secret the storytellers are withholding.
“The Unknown” finally gave us the answers I’d kinda/sorta predicted about Royal: his origin story is tied directly to that portal. It also gave us a few moments that made little sense because they were – once again – kinda shrouded in curiosity and hope without explanation. (FYI: it also gave us some of the worst screen kissing since the original Top Gun introduced the excessive tongues of Kelly McGillis and Tom Cruise.) All I can wish is the first season finale might shine a bit of light on the show’s remaining mysteries before it’s all too late.
-- EZ
It also deserves to be mentioned that – for a family that’s spent a life living off the land – the Abbotts haven’t quite learned some of the lessons of a 101 course. For example, what was Cecilia thinking when she absconded that dead bear cub? Hiding it in some outer shed was only going to increase the possibility that its mother would eventually find it and the episode showed us the end result of that. Again, I’m no rancher, but I know well enough that you don’t mess with dead bodies; how is it that Cece didn’t know better? Is she ignorant to the spoken and unspoken laws of Mother Nature, or are we seeing the seeds for a madness undiagnosed? Is she struggling with something greater than the (rather obvious) clinical depression?
Sadly, Rhett has (for me) turned into the program’s least likable character. Though the first few episodes painted him as one of the more relatable ones – a young buck trying to find his own way against the tide of family while still trying to be respectful of all involved – he’s very quickly turned into this moody loner who seemingly wants nothing to do with anyone around him. He spends the bulk of this installment struggling with his own anger, staring into space, drinking beer, and swearing at Autumn. If those are his daily pursuits, then maybe the family’s better off without him? It’s a sad development for what once seemed to be a bright spot at the Abbott ranch.
Also, Outer Range has been plagued – since its start – by some curious editing issues. I’ve mentioned them before (I believe) in passing, but it bears repeating: too much happens in too little (presented) screen time.
Autumn, in particular, is a character they’ve written as being damn near omnipresent: she’s everywhere and anywhere the script needs, and logic be damned. One minute, she’s in the distant frontier, and the next minute she’s in town – with no means of transportation presented – refilling a prescription at the pharmacy. How is this even remotely possible? Are there, perhaps, more than one of her? Have we been deliberately misinformed? Seemingly, three or four characters interact with her in the scope of what’s presented to be a short span of time – over several different locations about town – and we’re given no plausible explanation for how she can be anywhere almost instantly. It’s either bad writing … or another secret the storytellers are withholding.
“The Unknown” finally gave us the answers I’d kinda/sorta predicted about Royal: his origin story is tied directly to that portal. It also gave us a few moments that made little sense because they were – once again – kinda shrouded in curiosity and hope without explanation. (FYI: it also gave us some of the worst screen kissing since the original Top Gun introduced the excessive tongues of Kelly McGillis and Tom Cruise.) All I can wish is the first season finale might shine a bit of light on the show’s remaining mysteries before it’s all too late.
-- EZ
- Published on
I suspect most folks who enjoy film – at least those who frequent these pages – know that 3D is not a new technique.
Here’s a brief history lesson …
In the mid-1950’s, movie producers were growing very concerned over the development of television. If folks could have their entertainment diet satisfied without ever having to leave those four walls, then what was going to happen to the movie houses? Hoping they could deliver viewers with something a bit different, they began experiment with 3D filmmaking. Some great genre titles (and beyond) came out of the era, but inevitably it grew a bit too expensive to last as movie theaters would need to be outfitting with the technological innovations to truly grow the business. So, the craze eventually died out.
Then in the early 1980’s, home video became all the rage. Once more, the megaplexes were being ‘threatened’ with extinction – regular folks could simply drive to the corner grocery store, plunk down 99 cents, and go home with a video, leaving a whole lot of empty theater seats with no butts in them. Once more, studios flirted with 3D techniques and storytelling, but – as fate would have it – no production company could come up with a foolproof means of using existing projection technology (over the long haul) to make it likely for theaters to invest and see any chance of an immediate return.
Finally, storyteller James Cameron helped pioneer something that solved many of the technological and cost issues. His Avatar (2009) truly became a flick that stood at the forefront of an all-new wave of 3D features … and that pretty much gets us to where we are at present.
But about the 1980’s?
Star Tony Anthony had a dream: he had seen 3D work on screen, and he wanted to deliver it in a big way unlike anything audiences had seen before. Thus, he set out not so much to just make a film: he wanted to make the definitive 3D experience of that age. It took some serious time and some very serious investment, but eventually he helped to bring Treasure Of The Four Crowns (1983) to life. Sadly, the industry failed him: the film’s box office was solid, but audience reaction showed that the opportunity was there in a way that caught the attention of industry movers and shakers. Had decisions gone another way? Well, then the film he made might be better remembered than it is today.
Here’s a brief history lesson …
In the mid-1950’s, movie producers were growing very concerned over the development of television. If folks could have their entertainment diet satisfied without ever having to leave those four walls, then what was going to happen to the movie houses? Hoping they could deliver viewers with something a bit different, they began experiment with 3D filmmaking. Some great genre titles (and beyond) came out of the era, but inevitably it grew a bit too expensive to last as movie theaters would need to be outfitting with the technological innovations to truly grow the business. So, the craze eventually died out.
Then in the early 1980’s, home video became all the rage. Once more, the megaplexes were being ‘threatened’ with extinction – regular folks could simply drive to the corner grocery store, plunk down 99 cents, and go home with a video, leaving a whole lot of empty theater seats with no butts in them. Once more, studios flirted with 3D techniques and storytelling, but – as fate would have it – no production company could come up with a foolproof means of using existing projection technology (over the long haul) to make it likely for theaters to invest and see any chance of an immediate return.
Finally, storyteller James Cameron helped pioneer something that solved many of the technological and cost issues. His Avatar (2009) truly became a flick that stood at the forefront of an all-new wave of 3D features … and that pretty much gets us to where we are at present.
But about the 1980’s?
Star Tony Anthony had a dream: he had seen 3D work on screen, and he wanted to deliver it in a big way unlike anything audiences had seen before. Thus, he set out not so much to just make a film: he wanted to make the definitive 3D experience of that age. It took some serious time and some very serious investment, but eventually he helped to bring Treasure Of The Four Crowns (1983) to life. Sadly, the industry failed him: the film’s box office was solid, but audience reaction showed that the opportunity was there in a way that caught the attention of industry movers and shakers. Had decisions gone another way? Well, then the film he made might be better remembered than it is today.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“When a set of mystical artifacts falls into the hands of a diabolical cult leader with plans for world domination, it’s up to the devil-may-care J.T. Striker to reclaim them. Together with a ragtag team of mercenaries, Striker must battle terrifying natural – and supernatural – enemies within a fortress-like temple where the stakes may be nothing less than the balance between good and evil.”
To put this as politely and succinctly as I can, Treasure is a film whose plot doesn’t always make sense.
Things happen, yes. Consistently, too. But the writers are a bit light on why exactly. Oh, there’s a curse and a bit of magic hinted at here and there, but largely what takes place does so as the script was built chiefly to exploit the 3D craze of the era and this project. Conceived by Mark Carliner and Douglas Lloyd McIntosh, the desire here is, essentially, to give our rather bland globe-trotting lead – J.T. Striker (Tony Anthony) – some fortune and glory to aspire to, and apparently the best the pair could come up with would involve treasure hunting not unlike the kind that drew audiences to intrepid archaeologist Indiana Jones. Clearly, Carliner and McIntosh drew on the George Lucas and Steven Spielberg collaboration as much of their twenty-minute opening sequence are damn near direct homages to scenes and ideas lifted from Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981).
Well … if you’re gonna steal, then why not steal from the best?
Alas, the problems don’t stop there.
While Tony Anthony is certainly a capable actor and does an affable job with the action here, he lacks any real screen charm, looking more like a big city dentist than he does a globe trotter. While Dr. Jones went into his adventures in a weathered leather jacket and fedora, the best J.T. Striker could afford were some cream-colored pants and a red ski parka with pockets even on the ass panels. (???) As a protagonist, his antagonist really isn’t much of an adversary: Emiliano Redondo certainly looks the part of ‘Brother Jonas,’ but the only real evil the script shows audiences is the man’s scheming willingness to dupe the young newcomers to his cult about his alleged powers of healing. (Hint: they’re fake, and he and his collaborator give it away in one of the screen’s most obvious winks.) Dr. Jones fought the Nazis; Striker took a stand against some reclusive Hare Krishnas.
From the product packaging:
“When a set of mystical artifacts falls into the hands of a diabolical cult leader with plans for world domination, it’s up to the devil-may-care J.T. Striker to reclaim them. Together with a ragtag team of mercenaries, Striker must battle terrifying natural – and supernatural – enemies within a fortress-like temple where the stakes may be nothing less than the balance between good and evil.”
To put this as politely and succinctly as I can, Treasure is a film whose plot doesn’t always make sense.
Things happen, yes. Consistently, too. But the writers are a bit light on why exactly. Oh, there’s a curse and a bit of magic hinted at here and there, but largely what takes place does so as the script was built chiefly to exploit the 3D craze of the era and this project. Conceived by Mark Carliner and Douglas Lloyd McIntosh, the desire here is, essentially, to give our rather bland globe-trotting lead – J.T. Striker (Tony Anthony) – some fortune and glory to aspire to, and apparently the best the pair could come up with would involve treasure hunting not unlike the kind that drew audiences to intrepid archaeologist Indiana Jones. Clearly, Carliner and McIntosh drew on the George Lucas and Steven Spielberg collaboration as much of their twenty-minute opening sequence are damn near direct homages to scenes and ideas lifted from Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981).
Well … if you’re gonna steal, then why not steal from the best?
Alas, the problems don’t stop there.
While Tony Anthony is certainly a capable actor and does an affable job with the action here, he lacks any real screen charm, looking more like a big city dentist than he does a globe trotter. While Dr. Jones went into his adventures in a weathered leather jacket and fedora, the best J.T. Striker could afford were some cream-colored pants and a red ski parka with pockets even on the ass panels. (???) As a protagonist, his antagonist really isn’t much of an adversary: Emiliano Redondo certainly looks the part of ‘Brother Jonas,’ but the only real evil the script shows audiences is the man’s scheming willingness to dupe the young newcomers to his cult about his alleged powers of healing. (Hint: they’re fake, and he and his collaborator give it away in one of the screen’s most obvious winks.) Dr. Jones fought the Nazis; Striker took a stand against some reclusive Hare Krishnas.
I could go on … but I won’t, suffice it to say that liking Treasure Of The Four Crowns isn’t a sign of weakness. The film is – at its core – a theme park ride meant to deliver the thrills, chills, and spills of 3D. On that front, it is a pleasure, a rare valentine to one of cinema’s recurring love affairs with movie making. Arrows whiz at the screen. Fires leap toward the audience. Tambourines rattle in your face. Even Anthony pitches a wayward cigarette right at you! Twice! Director Ferdinando Baldi and his crew spent time staging an awful lot of series in order to make the most of even small moments, and the end result is that it shows. It may not have been all that captivating (hello, tambourines!) or all that frightening (hello, dangling ropes), but it works. I’ve always – always – been willing to praise quality workmanship; on that front, I encourage interested parties to unearth this lost treasure.
Treasure Of The Four Crowns (1983) was produced by Lupo-Anthony-Quintano Productions, Blum Group, and JAD Films International Inc. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via the reliable Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Well … the film largely looks and sounds very good – in particular, the sound levels were a bit funky in a few locations, so my uneducated guess would be that this restoration’s shortcomings are likely owed to flaws of the master. Also, there a few sequences wildly out-of-focus, and I’d also point in the direction of a flawed negative, perhaps flawed in the original production.
As for the special features?
Erm … well, again, I’m no big fan of audio commentaries that really don’t explore the film, and Jason Pichonsky’s track – while informative – spends an inordinate amount of time discussing the history of 3D and its various processes, leaving this feature mostly untouched directly … so I found it a bit of a miss. However, the disc also boasts a great audio interview with Anthony hosted by filmmaker Douglas Hosdale, and it’s a great 40+ experience I suspect fans will enjoy. Anthony details some of what he went through to bring the project to life, even discussing how the eventually failure to secure legitimate distribution of the flick brought about his abrupt retirement from acting. Lastly, the product allows you to choose watching the film with an enclosed pair of glasses or in traditional 2D; I did both, and I’m glad I did as some of the effects were more tiring than exhilarating.
Recommended but I’ll admit that I found a few sequences within Treasure Of The Four Crowns to be more than a bit confusing. Also having lived through the 3D craze of the 1980’s and emerged really not all that impressed with it, I’ve little to no personal attachment to it … but I’ll admit to finding it gloriously excessive in enough places to have sat through it a few times. Producer and star Tony Anthony clearly intended to make what he thought would be one of the most incredible 3D flicks of its time, and – on that front – he succeeds to a degree, though the occasionally loony plot point no doubt encourages some unplanned laughter as well. When the technique (3D) is the story, then you’re going to encounter problems at some point, and this one still has issues.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray (SuperVision 3D) of Treasure Of The Four Crowns by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Treasure Of The Four Crowns (1983) was produced by Lupo-Anthony-Quintano Productions, Blum Group, and JAD Films International Inc. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via the reliable Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Well … the film largely looks and sounds very good – in particular, the sound levels were a bit funky in a few locations, so my uneducated guess would be that this restoration’s shortcomings are likely owed to flaws of the master. Also, there a few sequences wildly out-of-focus, and I’d also point in the direction of a flawed negative, perhaps flawed in the original production.
As for the special features?
Erm … well, again, I’m no big fan of audio commentaries that really don’t explore the film, and Jason Pichonsky’s track – while informative – spends an inordinate amount of time discussing the history of 3D and its various processes, leaving this feature mostly untouched directly … so I found it a bit of a miss. However, the disc also boasts a great audio interview with Anthony hosted by filmmaker Douglas Hosdale, and it’s a great 40+ experience I suspect fans will enjoy. Anthony details some of what he went through to bring the project to life, even discussing how the eventually failure to secure legitimate distribution of the flick brought about his abrupt retirement from acting. Lastly, the product allows you to choose watching the film with an enclosed pair of glasses or in traditional 2D; I did both, and I’m glad I did as some of the effects were more tiring than exhilarating.
Recommended but I’ll admit that I found a few sequences within Treasure Of The Four Crowns to be more than a bit confusing. Also having lived through the 3D craze of the 1980’s and emerged really not all that impressed with it, I’ve little to no personal attachment to it … but I’ll admit to finding it gloriously excessive in enough places to have sat through it a few times. Producer and star Tony Anthony clearly intended to make what he thought would be one of the most incredible 3D flicks of its time, and – on that front – he succeeds to a degree, though the occasionally loony plot point no doubt encourages some unplanned laughter as well. When the technique (3D) is the story, then you’re going to encounter problems at some point, and this one still has issues.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray (SuperVision 3D) of Treasure Of The Four Crowns by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Peplum: Sword-and-sandal films, a genre of films largely made in Italy that focus on the adventures of Greco-Roman strongmen.
As I’ve mentioned ad nauseum, I grew up in an era where most households could only rely on whatever movies were sold to the syndicated television market for young’uns to watch; and that meant my entertainment diet was heavily flavored with black-and-white SciFi/Horror films on the 1950’s, Japanese import live action series of the 1960’s, and a sprinkling of European flicks that ranged from the unusual to the obtuse. For a time, I recall one TV station played a rotation of Hercules features (along with some like-minded fare), and – though I don’t recall every picture by name – I’m quite certain I’ve seen Son Of Samson (1960) from Gallus Films.
How can I be so sure?
Well, even as a little guy, I was a ‘thinker.’ So if a little something something was titled ‘Son Of Samson,’ then I grew curious why there was no Samson by name in the cast! Who was this Samson? Why was no one calling him out by name? I was too young to understand the nuance of how some studio executive opted to rename ‘Maciste In The Valley Of The Kings’ to something he or she thought American audiences would understand (such as biblical strongman Samson), and the inference was likely lost on me. I guess I just wasn’t worldly enough.
Still, films like it always kept my attention. As a young reader of comic books and a fan of anything remotely resembling a superhero, these cinema strongmen were equally interesting, even though I rarely understood all of the plot nor much cared about the romantic entanglements. Any bulked-up dude who could hurl boulders into a line of approaching soldiers? Well, that deserved my attention, so I took it all in at every opportunity.
As one who continues to study film later into my years, I’m fortunate enough to rediscover my love of some of these older features today as outfits like Kino Lorber are restoring them with home video releases. Son Of Samson might not be one of my favorites, but there’s still a resonance that shines through. It was a particular picture representative of a particular era of storytelling, and I think audiences might appreciate a kindler, gentler version of Fantasy epic in lieu of the usual spandex-and-tights crowding the cinemaplex screens today.
As I’ve mentioned ad nauseum, I grew up in an era where most households could only rely on whatever movies were sold to the syndicated television market for young’uns to watch; and that meant my entertainment diet was heavily flavored with black-and-white SciFi/Horror films on the 1950’s, Japanese import live action series of the 1960’s, and a sprinkling of European flicks that ranged from the unusual to the obtuse. For a time, I recall one TV station played a rotation of Hercules features (along with some like-minded fare), and – though I don’t recall every picture by name – I’m quite certain I’ve seen Son Of Samson (1960) from Gallus Films.
How can I be so sure?
Well, even as a little guy, I was a ‘thinker.’ So if a little something something was titled ‘Son Of Samson,’ then I grew curious why there was no Samson by name in the cast! Who was this Samson? Why was no one calling him out by name? I was too young to understand the nuance of how some studio executive opted to rename ‘Maciste In The Valley Of The Kings’ to something he or she thought American audiences would understand (such as biblical strongman Samson), and the inference was likely lost on me. I guess I just wasn’t worldly enough.
Still, films like it always kept my attention. As a young reader of comic books and a fan of anything remotely resembling a superhero, these cinema strongmen were equally interesting, even though I rarely understood all of the plot nor much cared about the romantic entanglements. Any bulked-up dude who could hurl boulders into a line of approaching soldiers? Well, that deserved my attention, so I took it all in at every opportunity.
As one who continues to study film later into my years, I’m fortunate enough to rediscover my love of some of these older features today as outfits like Kino Lorber are restoring them with home video releases. Son Of Samson might not be one of my favorites, but there’s still a resonance that shines through. It was a particular picture representative of a particular era of storytelling, and I think audiences might appreciate a kindler, gentler version of Fantasy epic in lieu of the usual spandex-and-tights crowding the cinemaplex screens today.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“During the Persian rule over Egypt, the mighty Maciste travels to the city of Tanis where the evil Queen Smedes rules with an iron fist and spreads misery across the land. Possing legendary brawn and courage, Maciste leads a mass revolt against the queen and her tyrannical reign of terror.”
Now, I’m not so old that I can’t appreciate the changes to visual narratives most audiences love these days. Certainly, technology – and the advent of CGI – have blessed storytellers with an incredible chest of tools to consider when building films today. George Lucas and others have brought whole planets to life, building whole empires and rebellions out of pixels whereas trailblazers only decades before had to rely on incredible filming locations and craftsmen who could work within a budget to accomplish the same. Still, I’ve always maintained that I prefer physical production over a computerized alternative, largely because it’s still all-too-easy to detect what’s real and what isn’t when considering images up on the silver screen.
Because most who purchase tickets to today’s releases have likely never seen a production without some measure of CGI, I’d argue they simply can’t appreciate the work and talent that went into bringing Son Of Samson to life. Even though I suspect a fair amount of its buildings were likely existing framework repurposed by studio staff to turn it from the Old West to Ancient Egypt, there’s a talent to achieving a consistent aesthetic – along with an eye for detail – that can’t be match digitally … and an awful lot of that is on display in this ninety-minute creation. Sets. Props. Costumes. It’s all part-and-parcel of mythmaking, and this Samson should be celebrated no less.
Thankfully, director Carlo Campogalliani was no stranger to the challenges of these Greco-Roman flicks (there were just really starting to take off in popularity) and had already ‘cut his teeth’ with Goliath And The Barbarians (1959). (For the record, he’d also worked on some of the silent films featured Maciste decades before.) He’d go on to shoot Ursus (1961) after this; and the greater peplum movement of Italian cinema was in full swing. His star – Mark Forest (as Maciste) – would go on to make an additional six appearances as this particular screen hero, a mighty warrior whose origins are never quite explored but seems to appear whenever ‘the people’ needed him most. His name – “Maciste” – translates to “born of the rock,” suggesting even that he’s tied to this world in a way like no other drawn from mythology. Even Wikipedia.org lists the character as one of the oldest recurring characters in all of film, typing him to no particular era or genre. How’s that for timelessness?
For what it’s worth, Forest looks the type of a screen Hercules just right (he’s Arnold Schwarzenegger long before that marquee player caught the limelight), but his performance never quite hits the mark solid. His delivery is a bit stiff at times, and he occasionally seems to be more involved with ‘flexing’ his arm and chest muscles than otherwise reacting to the plight of those around him. His film career amounts to just over a decade spent in thirteen different projects (per IMDB.com), at which point he pursued a life in music as an opera singer. (If his heart wasn’t really in acting, then maybe that’s what came across on the screen.) Also, the script from Oreste Biancoli and Ennio De Concini sticks fairly close to a formula – people are oppressed, one man rises up to inspire them to revolt, etc. – doesn’t deliver any major scenes for Forest or any of the players to truly sink their teeth into, so perhaps all involved were doing the best they could with what they were provided.
From the product packaging:
“During the Persian rule over Egypt, the mighty Maciste travels to the city of Tanis where the evil Queen Smedes rules with an iron fist and spreads misery across the land. Possing legendary brawn and courage, Maciste leads a mass revolt against the queen and her tyrannical reign of terror.”
Now, I’m not so old that I can’t appreciate the changes to visual narratives most audiences love these days. Certainly, technology – and the advent of CGI – have blessed storytellers with an incredible chest of tools to consider when building films today. George Lucas and others have brought whole planets to life, building whole empires and rebellions out of pixels whereas trailblazers only decades before had to rely on incredible filming locations and craftsmen who could work within a budget to accomplish the same. Still, I’ve always maintained that I prefer physical production over a computerized alternative, largely because it’s still all-too-easy to detect what’s real and what isn’t when considering images up on the silver screen.
Because most who purchase tickets to today’s releases have likely never seen a production without some measure of CGI, I’d argue they simply can’t appreciate the work and talent that went into bringing Son Of Samson to life. Even though I suspect a fair amount of its buildings were likely existing framework repurposed by studio staff to turn it from the Old West to Ancient Egypt, there’s a talent to achieving a consistent aesthetic – along with an eye for detail – that can’t be match digitally … and an awful lot of that is on display in this ninety-minute creation. Sets. Props. Costumes. It’s all part-and-parcel of mythmaking, and this Samson should be celebrated no less.
Thankfully, director Carlo Campogalliani was no stranger to the challenges of these Greco-Roman flicks (there were just really starting to take off in popularity) and had already ‘cut his teeth’ with Goliath And The Barbarians (1959). (For the record, he’d also worked on some of the silent films featured Maciste decades before.) He’d go on to shoot Ursus (1961) after this; and the greater peplum movement of Italian cinema was in full swing. His star – Mark Forest (as Maciste) – would go on to make an additional six appearances as this particular screen hero, a mighty warrior whose origins are never quite explored but seems to appear whenever ‘the people’ needed him most. His name – “Maciste” – translates to “born of the rock,” suggesting even that he’s tied to this world in a way like no other drawn from mythology. Even Wikipedia.org lists the character as one of the oldest recurring characters in all of film, typing him to no particular era or genre. How’s that for timelessness?
For what it’s worth, Forest looks the type of a screen Hercules just right (he’s Arnold Schwarzenegger long before that marquee player caught the limelight), but his performance never quite hits the mark solid. His delivery is a bit stiff at times, and he occasionally seems to be more involved with ‘flexing’ his arm and chest muscles than otherwise reacting to the plight of those around him. His film career amounts to just over a decade spent in thirteen different projects (per IMDB.com), at which point he pursued a life in music as an opera singer. (If his heart wasn’t really in acting, then maybe that’s what came across on the screen.) Also, the script from Oreste Biancoli and Ennio De Concini sticks fairly close to a formula – people are oppressed, one man rises up to inspire them to revolt, etc. – doesn’t deliver any major scenes for Forest or any of the players to truly sink their teeth into, so perhaps all involved were doing the best they could with what they were provided.
Still, there’s a gem of a scene between Forest and co-star Chelo Alonso, the Cuban bombshell and dancer who rather capably fills the shoes (and the veils!) of the film’s evil queen.
As such, it’s her responsibility to seduce the hero, and might I say she performs admirably in perhaps one of screendom’s most tempting dance sequences ever? If IMDB.com has its facts correct, then the lady was revered for her seductive and exotic belly-dancing a few years before these scenes were captured; and I’ve no doubt that producers knew exactly what they wanted when they cast her in the role. She appeared opposite bodybuilder-turned-actor Steve Reeves in 1959’s Sign Of The Gladitor and, reportedly, stole that film’s thunder. In Samson, Forest does what he can to share space with her during the sequence … which essentially amounts to sitting there in disbelief while – on again – flexing those pectorals.
Sweet Mother of Dragons, that woman could move.
Son Of Samson (1960) was produced by Panda Societa per L’Industria Cinematographica and a few other participants. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via the reliable Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Wow. Despite the occasionally wash-out of colors, I found much of this to look far better for a decades old production than I expected (having reviewed similar fare), so hats off to all involved.
As for the special features? Folks who read here often know that I’m notoriously hard on commentary tracks … but let me tell you: the one Kino Lorber provided here is a delight from start-to-finish. It’s a dialogue between Film Historian David Del Valle and Filmmaker/Historian Michael Varrati, and the two shares facts, figures, and tidbits about this film (in particular) while balancing out their narrative with the whole peplum movement. Usually, I’ve found historians focus too broadly on their knowledge, but most here do a masterful job of tying the discussion directly to some aspect of Son Of Samson … and it’s one of my favorites. Ever. Nice work, fellahs.
Highly recommended. Honestly, you folks know I’m a sucker for older pictures. True. While Son Of Samson was a bit dry in its first half, the second half was quite good. A bit too much felt a bit too formulaic, and maybe a performance or two with greater melodrama might’ve notched this one a bit higher on the pole. It’s good, but being drawn from the early days of peplum might’ve held it back. Production values are fabulous, and it’s still worth a view. But – seriously – don’t miss the commentary track. Watch it once you’ve enjoyed the feature. I guarantee that you’ll likely have as much fun with it as I did.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Son Of Samson (1960) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
As such, it’s her responsibility to seduce the hero, and might I say she performs admirably in perhaps one of screendom’s most tempting dance sequences ever? If IMDB.com has its facts correct, then the lady was revered for her seductive and exotic belly-dancing a few years before these scenes were captured; and I’ve no doubt that producers knew exactly what they wanted when they cast her in the role. She appeared opposite bodybuilder-turned-actor Steve Reeves in 1959’s Sign Of The Gladitor and, reportedly, stole that film’s thunder. In Samson, Forest does what he can to share space with her during the sequence … which essentially amounts to sitting there in disbelief while – on again – flexing those pectorals.
Sweet Mother of Dragons, that woman could move.
Son Of Samson (1960) was produced by Panda Societa per L’Industria Cinematographica and a few other participants. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via the reliable Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Wow. Despite the occasionally wash-out of colors, I found much of this to look far better for a decades old production than I expected (having reviewed similar fare), so hats off to all involved.
As for the special features? Folks who read here often know that I’m notoriously hard on commentary tracks … but let me tell you: the one Kino Lorber provided here is a delight from start-to-finish. It’s a dialogue between Film Historian David Del Valle and Filmmaker/Historian Michael Varrati, and the two shares facts, figures, and tidbits about this film (in particular) while balancing out their narrative with the whole peplum movement. Usually, I’ve found historians focus too broadly on their knowledge, but most here do a masterful job of tying the discussion directly to some aspect of Son Of Samson … and it’s one of my favorites. Ever. Nice work, fellahs.
Highly recommended. Honestly, you folks know I’m a sucker for older pictures. True. While Son Of Samson was a bit dry in its first half, the second half was quite good. A bit too much felt a bit too formulaic, and maybe a performance or two with greater melodrama might’ve notched this one a bit higher on the pole. It’s good, but being drawn from the early days of peplum might’ve held it back. Production values are fabulous, and it’s still worth a view. But – seriously – don’t miss the commentary track. Watch it once you’ve enjoyed the feature. I guarantee that you’ll likely have as much fun with it as I did.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Son Of Samson (1960) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
As I said just yesterday, sometimes you have to accept the little things that life gives you in order to find that inevitable silver lining ... but how auspicious is it to make one's silver screen debut in a bit of celebrated genre entertainment?
That's something that few folks get to claim on their resume, and Jack Kehler is among them. According to IMDB.com, his very first screen role -- albeit a small one -- was giving life into nothing more than a gas station attendant in the SciFi and Fantasy remake Strange Invaders (previously produced in the 1950's). So far as some of us are concerned, enjoying even the smallest amount of screen time aboard one of our genre's big name properties automatically qualifies you for even a modest bit of praise, so hats off to the man for 'ticking that box,' as they say.
It's hard to say that the man enjoyed any real 'break out' role, though I do remember his work in an awful lot of fare, genre and beyond. A rundown of his IMDB.com certainly lists some favored credentials, including stops to such franchises at Mann & Machine, Tales From The Crypt, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Waterworld (1995), Babylon 5, a 1995 The Invaders remake, Sliders, The Pretender, Angel, Amazon's The Man In The High Castle, and The Magicians. That, my friends, is a track record any of us should respect, as we'll always have something to remember the man by.
Alas, none of us gets out of here alive, and I stumbled across word just this morning on the Information Superhighway that he's passed into whatever beyond awaits us. Prayers go out to the family and friends of Mr. Kehler. May he rest in peace.
-- EZ
That's something that few folks get to claim on their resume, and Jack Kehler is among them. According to IMDB.com, his very first screen role -- albeit a small one -- was giving life into nothing more than a gas station attendant in the SciFi and Fantasy remake Strange Invaders (previously produced in the 1950's). So far as some of us are concerned, enjoying even the smallest amount of screen time aboard one of our genre's big name properties automatically qualifies you for even a modest bit of praise, so hats off to the man for 'ticking that box,' as they say.
It's hard to say that the man enjoyed any real 'break out' role, though I do remember his work in an awful lot of fare, genre and beyond. A rundown of his IMDB.com certainly lists some favored credentials, including stops to such franchises at Mann & Machine, Tales From The Crypt, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Waterworld (1995), Babylon 5, a 1995 The Invaders remake, Sliders, The Pretender, Angel, Amazon's The Man In The High Castle, and The Magicians. That, my friends, is a track record any of us should respect, as we'll always have something to remember the man by.
Alas, none of us gets out of here alive, and I stumbled across word just this morning on the Information Superhighway that he's passed into whatever beyond awaits us. Prayers go out to the family and friends of Mr. Kehler. May he rest in peace.
-- EZ
- Published on
Ach. As I always say, death announcements hurt. Yes, some hurt more than other, especially when it's someone we've come to know on screens big and small.
Kenneth Welsh's career was fast approaching an incredible two hundred and fifty different professional credits, and his was a face I recognize from a whole lot of something somethings. (FYI: I don't just watch genre stuff, folks, and this guy was a bit of a legend in my mind.) His characters were big and small, in all honesty, though I'd have to profess I think he gravitated more toward a few bigger-than-life (in a good way but occasionally menacing). His IMDB.com profile lists his award acknowledgements, and I'm honestly surprised it was so few.
In any event ...
I think he probably made his presence know (professionally) in some mainstream fare, but genre stuff followed very, very quickly. Fans might recognize him -- from the 1980's -- in such projects as Of Unknown Origin (1983), Seeing Things, The Ray Bradbury Theatre, and the late 1980's incarnation of The Twilight Zone. But, yes, it was probably his work aboard Twin Peaks that truly put him on the map: his work as the curious 'Windom Earle' -- one of Agent Cooper's mentors -- needed a bit more screen time (so far as this viewer is concerned), but -- at this juncture -- it is what it is, as they say.
But his contributions to Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror never quite stopped.
Beyond Reality. Timecop (1994). The X-Files. The Outer Limits. Eerie, Indiana. Witchblade. ReGenesis. The Day After Tomorrow (2004). Smallville. Stargate: Atlantis. Bionic Woman. Haven. The Expanse. Even the gloriously tepid Star Trek: Discovery. These are all places you can go -- and there are still more -- with which to enjoy the man's talent, and you'll likely realize that he always brought his best work to even the shortest scenes.
Alas, none of us lasts forever ... but his screen work will always endure.
Thoughts and prayers to the actor's friends and family.
-- EZ
Kenneth Welsh's career was fast approaching an incredible two hundred and fifty different professional credits, and his was a face I recognize from a whole lot of something somethings. (FYI: I don't just watch genre stuff, folks, and this guy was a bit of a legend in my mind.) His characters were big and small, in all honesty, though I'd have to profess I think he gravitated more toward a few bigger-than-life (in a good way but occasionally menacing). His IMDB.com profile lists his award acknowledgements, and I'm honestly surprised it was so few.
In any event ...
I think he probably made his presence know (professionally) in some mainstream fare, but genre stuff followed very, very quickly. Fans might recognize him -- from the 1980's -- in such projects as Of Unknown Origin (1983), Seeing Things, The Ray Bradbury Theatre, and the late 1980's incarnation of The Twilight Zone. But, yes, it was probably his work aboard Twin Peaks that truly put him on the map: his work as the curious 'Windom Earle' -- one of Agent Cooper's mentors -- needed a bit more screen time (so far as this viewer is concerned), but -- at this juncture -- it is what it is, as they say.
But his contributions to Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror never quite stopped.
Beyond Reality. Timecop (1994). The X-Files. The Outer Limits. Eerie, Indiana. Witchblade. ReGenesis. The Day After Tomorrow (2004). Smallville. Stargate: Atlantis. Bionic Woman. Haven. The Expanse. Even the gloriously tepid Star Trek: Discovery. These are all places you can go -- and there are still more -- with which to enjoy the man's talent, and you'll likely realize that he always brought his best work to even the shortest scenes.
Alas, none of us lasts forever ... but his screen work will always endure.
Thoughts and prayers to the actor's friends and family.
-- EZ
- Published on
Jeepers crow, people.
I'm old enough to have gotten in some trouble on a message board back in the day when I rather politely tried to make the argument that James Cameron's Avatar was really nothing more than 'The Smurfs' for adults. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that its story is essentially little more than a Ferngully: The Last Rainforest knock-off; and, sure, we all should've expected better from Mr. Cameron. Well, those of you who wanted more? You're about to start getting more: this Christmas the first in a seemingly endless series of Avatar sequels -- isn't he planning, like, nine of them or something? -- hits the big screen with the release of Avatar: The Way Of Water.
From what I've read, I guess this trailer dropped at a comic convention recently, and I've also heard it was attached to the latest Marvel opus, Dr. Strange And The Something Something. (Sorry, folks, I don't follow Marvel as closely as most media websites.) Walt Disney has certainly made an investment in Jimmy and his blue folks, and who knows if it'll ever pay off the way the Mouse House originally thought it would. I know their stocks tanked after they went after Florida's attempt to stop the sexualization of children, so I suspect they're looking for some redemption with what looks to now be a Waterworld rip-off. (I kid, I kid: I don't know the story, and those who read here know that I'm a story junkie more than anything else.)
Nah, I wasn't as won over with the first Avatar as were most fanboys. Again, I thought it was visually spectacular, but the story just didn't do anything for me. I'm pretty sure I've only seen it once -- that during its original theatrical run -- and I've never looked back. I can be incredibly fickle that way as I'd rather spend my time exploring strange new worlds in many respects instead of revisiting old ones. I didn't used to be that way, but with age comes wisdom ... so blah, blah, blah.
In any event, the teaser trailer is below. You know what to do about that.
I'm old enough to have gotten in some trouble on a message board back in the day when I rather politely tried to make the argument that James Cameron's Avatar was really nothing more than 'The Smurfs' for adults. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that its story is essentially little more than a Ferngully: The Last Rainforest knock-off; and, sure, we all should've expected better from Mr. Cameron. Well, those of you who wanted more? You're about to start getting more: this Christmas the first in a seemingly endless series of Avatar sequels -- isn't he planning, like, nine of them or something? -- hits the big screen with the release of Avatar: The Way Of Water.
From what I've read, I guess this trailer dropped at a comic convention recently, and I've also heard it was attached to the latest Marvel opus, Dr. Strange And The Something Something. (Sorry, folks, I don't follow Marvel as closely as most media websites.) Walt Disney has certainly made an investment in Jimmy and his blue folks, and who knows if it'll ever pay off the way the Mouse House originally thought it would. I know their stocks tanked after they went after Florida's attempt to stop the sexualization of children, so I suspect they're looking for some redemption with what looks to now be a Waterworld rip-off. (I kid, I kid: I don't know the story, and those who read here know that I'm a story junkie more than anything else.)
Nah, I wasn't as won over with the first Avatar as were most fanboys. Again, I thought it was visually spectacular, but the story just didn't do anything for me. I'm pretty sure I've only seen it once -- that during its original theatrical run -- and I've never looked back. I can be incredibly fickle that way as I'd rather spend my time exploring strange new worlds in many respects instead of revisiting old ones. I didn't used to be that way, but with age comes wisdom ... so blah, blah, blah.
In any event, the teaser trailer is below. You know what to do about that.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
-- EZ
- Published on
If one considers the totality of the ever-expanding Star Trek franchise, then you realize that the property has has some incredible guest stars over the years.
Granted, not every visitor who got to play in this universe on the big or small screen got a meaty part. Such is the nature of storytelling, that some characters are just incidental or even circumstantial. But what amazes me is that even if that few minutes of screen time requires a mountain of preparation -- namely sitting in the make-up chair for what might be hours -- actors and actresses still do it if for no other reason that they get the kick of appearing in the beloved Gene Roddenberry creation.
While Mike Hagerty's visits to Trek weren't those big Emmy-contending stops, I suspect he still enjoyed himself. Who among us wouldn't get a total jazz out of playing a Klingon, especially at a time of near all-out galaxy-spanning war? I know I would. (Hollywood? Are you listening?)
Thankfully, Hagerty was no stranger to SciFi and Fantasy. In the scope of a career that spanned nearly five decades, he paid visits to such places as Hard Time On Planet Earth, Dick Tracy (1990), Mann & Machine, Space Truckers (1996), Angel, and Ghost Whisperer. Though he'll likely be remembered by a certain generation for his time aboard the popular sitcom Friends, I'l glad he brought his gifts to realms where he showed us a little something different.
Thoughts and prayers are extended to the man's family and friends.
-- EZ
Granted, not every visitor who got to play in this universe on the big or small screen got a meaty part. Such is the nature of storytelling, that some characters are just incidental or even circumstantial. But what amazes me is that even if that few minutes of screen time requires a mountain of preparation -- namely sitting in the make-up chair for what might be hours -- actors and actresses still do it if for no other reason that they get the kick of appearing in the beloved Gene Roddenberry creation.
While Mike Hagerty's visits to Trek weren't those big Emmy-contending stops, I suspect he still enjoyed himself. Who among us wouldn't get a total jazz out of playing a Klingon, especially at a time of near all-out galaxy-spanning war? I know I would. (Hollywood? Are you listening?)
Thankfully, Hagerty was no stranger to SciFi and Fantasy. In the scope of a career that spanned nearly five decades, he paid visits to such places as Hard Time On Planet Earth, Dick Tracy (1990), Mann & Machine, Space Truckers (1996), Angel, and Ghost Whisperer. Though he'll likely be remembered by a certain generation for his time aboard the popular sitcom Friends, I'l glad he brought his gifts to realms where he showed us a little something different.
Thoughts and prayers are extended to the man's family and friends.
-- EZ
- Published on
In the mid 1980’s, I attended an arts festival for student authors. I was presenting a one-act play – something I had written for my undergraduate program – and the work was to be not so much judged as it was ‘evaluated’ by academics who sponsored the event.
Honestly, I don’t remember all that much about the experience, but I do recall speaking with one of the professors afterwards. He had pulled me over and wanted to praise me privately for what he termed as ‘not following in the footsteps of traditional young storytellers.’ When I asked for clarification, he explained that it was his experience that fledgling writers just starting out with their ‘voice’ typically spend a wealth of time creating characters who bark and howl for no other reason than to bark and howl. He stressed that while he wasn’t opposed to such unchecked emotion, he felt that young writers – in particular – ended up really experimenting more with storytelling as an art form in lieu of really telling a story.
I better understood his position once I viewed a few of the other works in the festival. Clearly, some of my peers were using their various projects more as personal vision quests than they were creating a story with a discernable beginning, middle, end, and point. A moral to the story. While there were road signs here or there about what some of the scripts meant, the pattern he identified couldn’t be discounted. Some folks just wanted to write – not that there’s anything wrong with that – leaving what to make of their work entirely up in the air. My instructors had taught me differently, and I think that tutelage came across in my work.
Occasionally, experimental films suffer this same prognosis: they’re brilliant threads in search of a tapestry. A needlepoint might be good to look at – it might weave and blend colors in a magnificent fashion – but that doesn’t mean you want it hanging on your wall. Am I right?
And if there’s ever been a film that’s felt more obviously experimental than Dementia (1955), then I’ve likely not seen it.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
Honestly, I don’t remember all that much about the experience, but I do recall speaking with one of the professors afterwards. He had pulled me over and wanted to praise me privately for what he termed as ‘not following in the footsteps of traditional young storytellers.’ When I asked for clarification, he explained that it was his experience that fledgling writers just starting out with their ‘voice’ typically spend a wealth of time creating characters who bark and howl for no other reason than to bark and howl. He stressed that while he wasn’t opposed to such unchecked emotion, he felt that young writers – in particular – ended up really experimenting more with storytelling as an art form in lieu of really telling a story.
I better understood his position once I viewed a few of the other works in the festival. Clearly, some of my peers were using their various projects more as personal vision quests than they were creating a story with a discernable beginning, middle, end, and point. A moral to the story. While there were road signs here or there about what some of the scripts meant, the pattern he identified couldn’t be discounted. Some folks just wanted to write – not that there’s anything wrong with that – leaving what to make of their work entirely up in the air. My instructors had taught me differently, and I think that tutelage came across in my work.
Occasionally, experimental films suffer this same prognosis: they’re brilliant threads in search of a tapestry. A needlepoint might be good to look at – it might weave and blend colors in a magnificent fashion – but that doesn’t mean you want it hanging on your wall. Am I right?
And if there’s ever been a film that’s felt more obviously experimental than Dementia (1955), then I’ve likely not seen it.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“Set entirely in a nocturnal twilight zone that blends dream imagery with the cinematic stylings of film noir, Dementia follows the tormented existence of a young woman haunted by the horrors of her youth, which transformed her into a stiletto-wielding, man-hating beatnik …”
There’s a bit more, honestly, but it gets a bit too deeply into the weeds as well as reveals a bit of subtext I didn’t find all that helpful, so I’m leaving it at that. Suffice it to say, Dementia is aptly titled: a kind of whacked out trip into what may have been a young woman’s worst night ever, a dream-state recreation of it, or (sadly) little more than the figments of some fevered imagination all adding up to whatever you make of it. Curiously, the film contains no spoken dialogue – it all plays out like a kinda/sorta silent film (without the insert cards) set entirely to music with only the occasional sound effects – but it’s easy to follow. While I’m always a fan of storytellers telling and me deciding what to make of it, this film pushed the limits of what I’ve seen attempted before, so maybe a bit of factual recounting is necessary before my thoughts.
From what I’ve learned, Dementia is the only film writer/director John Parker ever made. As the story goes, his secretary Adrienne Barrett – the leading lady only known as ‘The Gamin’ here – recounted one of her dreams to him. (FYI: apparently, ‘gamin’ means ‘street urchin,’ and I suspect that may figure into the plot.) So inspired by the tale she told, Parker decided it had to be filmed. Using his family connections, he secured funding, coopting the collaboration of actor/director/writer Bruno VeSota, and the end result is this 56-minute ‘masterpiece’ or ‘disasterpiece,’ depending upon your perspective. Also from what I’ve read, it was originally shot in 1953 but couldn’t pass ratings board for two years due to its – ahem – controversial content.
Today, there’s probably very little in Dementia that would offend audiences. Standards and mores have changed over the years, and what was objectionable five or six decades ago is a bit passe for a generation that has sat through William Friedkin’s The Exorcist – much less Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator – and lived to tell about it. Also, keeping in mind that Dementia is admittedly inspired by and about a dream, I think what takes place between its opening and closing is left largely up to interpretation of the audience anyway. But being shot in the 1950’s it’s easy to see how the tale’s curious depiction on sex, violence, and things that go bump in the night met some resistance.
Stylistically, the film is (mostly) a delight to behold. While I’d argue of few of the late sequences go on a bit long, the ride moves at an otherwise appreciable rate. The Gamin sets about her ‘night on the town,’ and – while it’s a bit unclear exactly what she’s looking for – it becomes clear that others have intents upon her. There are hints that she’s involved in a kinda/sorta twisted version of prostitution, but the men who hire her don’t seem much interested in sex as they do a good chicken dinner. (Trust me: you’ll get the joke.) Perhaps their inability to express authentic attention toward her is what inevitably pushes her into a life of crime – or is that vice versa? – or maybe her choices are all tied back to the flawed parenting of a lascivious mother and an alcoholic father. Watch closely, and you’re bound to see that some identities change throughout the story. Thus, it’s hard to reach any single conclusion about these various depictions other than to suggest – much like life – some people are destined to wear many hats.
“Set entirely in a nocturnal twilight zone that blends dream imagery with the cinematic stylings of film noir, Dementia follows the tormented existence of a young woman haunted by the horrors of her youth, which transformed her into a stiletto-wielding, man-hating beatnik …”
There’s a bit more, honestly, but it gets a bit too deeply into the weeds as well as reveals a bit of subtext I didn’t find all that helpful, so I’m leaving it at that. Suffice it to say, Dementia is aptly titled: a kind of whacked out trip into what may have been a young woman’s worst night ever, a dream-state recreation of it, or (sadly) little more than the figments of some fevered imagination all adding up to whatever you make of it. Curiously, the film contains no spoken dialogue – it all plays out like a kinda/sorta silent film (without the insert cards) set entirely to music with only the occasional sound effects – but it’s easy to follow. While I’m always a fan of storytellers telling and me deciding what to make of it, this film pushed the limits of what I’ve seen attempted before, so maybe a bit of factual recounting is necessary before my thoughts.
From what I’ve learned, Dementia is the only film writer/director John Parker ever made. As the story goes, his secretary Adrienne Barrett – the leading lady only known as ‘The Gamin’ here – recounted one of her dreams to him. (FYI: apparently, ‘gamin’ means ‘street urchin,’ and I suspect that may figure into the plot.) So inspired by the tale she told, Parker decided it had to be filmed. Using his family connections, he secured funding, coopting the collaboration of actor/director/writer Bruno VeSota, and the end result is this 56-minute ‘masterpiece’ or ‘disasterpiece,’ depending upon your perspective. Also from what I’ve read, it was originally shot in 1953 but couldn’t pass ratings board for two years due to its – ahem – controversial content.
Today, there’s probably very little in Dementia that would offend audiences. Standards and mores have changed over the years, and what was objectionable five or six decades ago is a bit passe for a generation that has sat through William Friedkin’s The Exorcist – much less Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator – and lived to tell about it. Also, keeping in mind that Dementia is admittedly inspired by and about a dream, I think what takes place between its opening and closing is left largely up to interpretation of the audience anyway. But being shot in the 1950’s it’s easy to see how the tale’s curious depiction on sex, violence, and things that go bump in the night met some resistance.
Stylistically, the film is (mostly) a delight to behold. While I’d argue of few of the late sequences go on a bit long, the ride moves at an otherwise appreciable rate. The Gamin sets about her ‘night on the town,’ and – while it’s a bit unclear exactly what she’s looking for – it becomes clear that others have intents upon her. There are hints that she’s involved in a kinda/sorta twisted version of prostitution, but the men who hire her don’t seem much interested in sex as they do a good chicken dinner. (Trust me: you’ll get the joke.) Perhaps their inability to express authentic attention toward her is what inevitably pushes her into a life of crime – or is that vice versa? – or maybe her choices are all tied back to the flawed parenting of a lascivious mother and an alcoholic father. Watch closely, and you’re bound to see that some identities change throughout the story. Thus, it’s hard to reach any single conclusion about these various depictions other than to suggest – much like life – some people are destined to wear many hats.
Bearing in mind that this was Parker’s only legitimate feature production, I’m hesitant to read anything more into Dementia. (The more accomplished storytellers generally give us multiple tales to digest, making it easier to see consistent themes playing out over several different films.) Here, some ideas play out interestingly through striking visuals, but in the end it seems that his Gamin has grown to enjoy her life on the streets. It’s hard to feel sorry for anyone in here – there’s no clear protagonist or antagonist for that matter – and actress Barrett never quite musters any great reaction that would solicit my grief or disdain over her plight. It’s almost as if I’m not supposed to care, and the director allows her nightmare to unspool before my eyes.
Sigh.
Come the big finish, she got the hand up she really needed, though. I’ll say that for her.
Dementia (1955) was produced by J.J. Parker Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the Cohen Media Group. As for the technical specifications? The packaging asserts that this is the original cut of the film digitally remastered from the 35MM negative, and – despite some graininess in the opening sequence – it looks quite good. As for the special features? Well … the disc boasts a pair of trailers (one regarding the original release and one designed for the restored print) along with an alternate cut of the film retitled ‘Daughter Of Horror,’ a version which includes some narration (not that it helps all that much). Given the – erm – professed cerebral nature of the flick, I honestly expected more … but you get what you get.
Recommended. Perhaps of all the films I had the good fortune to see in all of my years of reviewing them, Dementia (1953) is one of the more bizarre experiences. All I can truly say is that you must make of it what you will. It’s clearly part-Horror, part-noir, and part-experimental, but it’s hard to suggest that the total of its parts delivers a consistent message. At times, it’s anti-men. At times, it’s debatably anti-women. With an idea that originated from a dream, perhaps – like dreams – it really only means what you and your therapist might make of it … yet I’m not sure even that would see agreement.
As a last thought? I enjoyed Dementia, and I think if you’re a fan of old black-and-white films – especially noir – then you’ll enjoy it, too. This isn’t to say that it won’t frustrate you. This isn’t to say that it won’t tempt you to turn it off in a place or two. But this is exactly the kind of film I can watch once, give it a modest thumbs up, and not feel guilty about. After all, it’s only sixty minutes of your life.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at the Cohen Film Collection provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Dementia by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Sigh.
Come the big finish, she got the hand up she really needed, though. I’ll say that for her.
Dementia (1955) was produced by J.J. Parker Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the Cohen Media Group. As for the technical specifications? The packaging asserts that this is the original cut of the film digitally remastered from the 35MM negative, and – despite some graininess in the opening sequence – it looks quite good. As for the special features? Well … the disc boasts a pair of trailers (one regarding the original release and one designed for the restored print) along with an alternate cut of the film retitled ‘Daughter Of Horror,’ a version which includes some narration (not that it helps all that much). Given the – erm – professed cerebral nature of the flick, I honestly expected more … but you get what you get.
Recommended. Perhaps of all the films I had the good fortune to see in all of my years of reviewing them, Dementia (1953) is one of the more bizarre experiences. All I can truly say is that you must make of it what you will. It’s clearly part-Horror, part-noir, and part-experimental, but it’s hard to suggest that the total of its parts delivers a consistent message. At times, it’s anti-men. At times, it’s debatably anti-women. With an idea that originated from a dream, perhaps – like dreams – it really only means what you and your therapist might make of it … yet I’m not sure even that would see agreement.
As a last thought? I enjoyed Dementia, and I think if you’re a fan of old black-and-white films – especially noir – then you’ll enjoy it, too. This isn’t to say that it won’t frustrate you. This isn’t to say that it won’t tempt you to turn it off in a place or two. But this is exactly the kind of film I can watch once, give it a modest thumbs up, and not feel guilty about. After all, it’s only sixty minutes of your life.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at the Cohen Film Collection provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Dementia by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ