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Ahem.
One man's trash is another man's treasure, and we would all do well to keep that in mind when glancing into the past of film history to an age wherein Special Effects were a bit more charming than they were authentic. Take note, happy readers: it wasn't easy to spin a great deal of these yarns of yesteryear, and talented storytellers had to make do with the best that the could. Even modest looking CGI was a decade or two still away, so the only way director William F. Claxton could bring -- ahem -- giant rabbits to life was to use -- ahem -- regular-sized hares but set them against the best man-made miniatures a production could get their hands on.
This one was called Night Of The Lepus, friends, and -- yes -- it featured giant rabbits.
Interestingly enough, I've read that this story of -- yes -- giant rabbits didn't in fact use any giant rabbits in its advertising. Allegedly, the marketing staff specifically avoided pictures of them because there was a fear that prospective ticketbuyers wouldn't take their Horror/Fantasy seriously if they showed what had been captured on film ... and so the story goes. Just looking at the professionally-rendered theatrical one-sheet poster above, you can see that -- ahem -- there weren't no obvious rabbits there, so it must be true that they went out of their way to scare viewers away. Maybe that was best ...
One man's trash is another man's treasure, and we would all do well to keep that in mind when glancing into the past of film history to an age wherein Special Effects were a bit more charming than they were authentic. Take note, happy readers: it wasn't easy to spin a great deal of these yarns of yesteryear, and talented storytellers had to make do with the best that the could. Even modest looking CGI was a decade or two still away, so the only way director William F. Claxton could bring -- ahem -- giant rabbits to life was to use -- ahem -- regular-sized hares but set them against the best man-made miniatures a production could get their hands on.
This one was called Night Of The Lepus, friends, and -- yes -- it featured giant rabbits.
Interestingly enough, I've read that this story of -- yes -- giant rabbits didn't in fact use any giant rabbits in its advertising. Allegedly, the marketing staff specifically avoided pictures of them because there was a fear that prospective ticketbuyers wouldn't take their Horror/Fantasy seriously if they showed what had been captured on film ... and so the story goes. Just looking at the professionally-rendered theatrical one-sheet poster above, you can see that -- ahem -- there weren't no obvious rabbits there, so it must be true that they went out of their way to scare viewers away. Maybe that was best ...
Oh, the horror ... the HORROR!
This is a picture that I believe I saw on television sometime during the 1970's, but I'll be honest: it didn't make that much of an impressive, so I'll chalk it up to only the vaguest of possible memories. I might've laughed at it -- even as a young'un the campiness of it would have been obvious -- but I'll withhold any critical commentary because I do believe in being fair 'round these parts.
Based on the 1964 novel "The Year Of The Angry Rabbit" by Russell Braddon, Lepus's script shows credited to Don Holliday and Gene R. Kearney. The film stars Stuart Whitman, Janet Leigh, Rory Calhoun, Star Trek's DeForest Kelley, and Paul Fix (who also enjoyed a guest visit to Trek). Here's the plot summary as provided by our friends at IMDB.com:
"Cole Hillman's Arizona ranch is plagued with 'mongrel' rabbits, and he wants to employ an ecologically sound control method. As a favor to college benefactor Hillman, college president Elgin Clark calls in zoologist Roy Bennett to help. Bennett immediately begins injecting rabbits with hormones and genetically mutated blood in an effort to develop a method of disrupting rabbit reproduction. One of the test subjects escapes, resulting in a race of bloodthirsty, wolf-sized, man-, horse-, and cow-eating bunnies. Eventually the National Guard is called in for a final showdown with the terrorizing rabbits."
This is a picture that I believe I saw on television sometime during the 1970's, but I'll be honest: it didn't make that much of an impressive, so I'll chalk it up to only the vaguest of possible memories. I might've laughed at it -- even as a young'un the campiness of it would have been obvious -- but I'll withhold any critical commentary because I do believe in being fair 'round these parts.
Based on the 1964 novel "The Year Of The Angry Rabbit" by Russell Braddon, Lepus's script shows credited to Don Holliday and Gene R. Kearney. The film stars Stuart Whitman, Janet Leigh, Rory Calhoun, Star Trek's DeForest Kelley, and Paul Fix (who also enjoyed a guest visit to Trek). Here's the plot summary as provided by our friends at IMDB.com:
"Cole Hillman's Arizona ranch is plagued with 'mongrel' rabbits, and he wants to employ an ecologically sound control method. As a favor to college benefactor Hillman, college president Elgin Clark calls in zoologist Roy Bennett to help. Bennett immediately begins injecting rabbits with hormones and genetically mutated blood in an effort to develop a method of disrupting rabbit reproduction. One of the test subjects escapes, resulting in a race of bloodthirsty, wolf-sized, man-, horse-, and cow-eating bunnies. Eventually the National Guard is called in for a final showdown with the terrorizing rabbits."
So if you're like me, then you'll likely find it kinda/sorta cool that Hollywood's fascination with giant-sized creatures and critters has never been limited to just bugs, snakes, lizards, and the like. When something so lovable as the ordinary rabbit can be turned into a humongous carniverous menace, you know that -- as a viewer -- you're in for something special.
Happy birthday, Night Of The Lepus! Let's hope we all look so good at 52 years young!
-- EZ
Happy birthday, Night Of The Lepus! Let's hope we all look so good at 52 years young!
-- EZ
- Published on
In fairness, I've only seen a handful of the films in the wider catalogue of Mario Bava.
Now, that doesn't mean that I'm here to pronounce judgment one way or another on the quality of his output. The truth is I think Bava's probably about as impressive a storyteller as any I've come across; while his subject matter may not titillate me in ways it does some, even I can see that he's accomplished far more with far less than Hollywood puts at the fingertips of a greater many writers, directors, and producers. That fact alone is what keeps me interested in seeking out and exploring the releases of other markets as much as I do, but -- again -- I don't consider myself an expert on the auteur's library to any extent.
Released on this day in Italy all the way back in 1971, A Bay Of Blood shows written (in part) and directed by Bava; and I've learned that this usually means that Bava's hand in the story's creation was possibly limited to either setting writers onto this path via suggestion as opposed to being actively involved in the nittygritty of its inception. He likely contributed to putting the wheels in motion, sat back to see what others attached to the story and script could do with it, and then polished it up either before getting behind the camera or tweaking it along the way. IMDB.com indicates that the cast included such names as Claudine Auger, Luigi Pistilli, Claudio Camaso, Anna Maria Rosati, and Chris Avram among others.
Now, that doesn't mean that I'm here to pronounce judgment one way or another on the quality of his output. The truth is I think Bava's probably about as impressive a storyteller as any I've come across; while his subject matter may not titillate me in ways it does some, even I can see that he's accomplished far more with far less than Hollywood puts at the fingertips of a greater many writers, directors, and producers. That fact alone is what keeps me interested in seeking out and exploring the releases of other markets as much as I do, but -- again -- I don't consider myself an expert on the auteur's library to any extent.
Released on this day in Italy all the way back in 1971, A Bay Of Blood shows written (in part) and directed by Bava; and I've learned that this usually means that Bava's hand in the story's creation was possibly limited to either setting writers onto this path via suggestion as opposed to being actively involved in the nittygritty of its inception. He likely contributed to putting the wheels in motion, sat back to see what others attached to the story and script could do with it, and then polished it up either before getting behind the camera or tweaking it along the way. IMDB.com indicates that the cast included such names as Claudine Auger, Luigi Pistilli, Claudio Camaso, Anna Maria Rosati, and Chris Avram among others.
Here's the plot summary for the film as listed on IMDB.com:
"An elderly heiress is killed by her husband who wants control of her fortunes. What ensues is an all-out murder spree as relatives and friends attempt to reduce the inheritance playing field, complicated by some teenagers who decide to camp out in a dilapidated building on the estate."
As stories go, it definitely looks to me as if Bay pretty much falls into the category of being a conventional Slasher-style Horror feature -- indeed, many of the tags associated to its listing on IMDB.com ascribe it as such along with being a psychological Thriller. I've also read that Bay might very well have served as an inspiration to similar slasher efforts that were both rushed into U.S. production as well as influenced directors in subsequent motion pictures with similar themes. Again, IMDB.com (a great source of both accurate and sometimes mildly inaccurate information) states that there are striking similarities between 'kills' in both Friday The 13th (1980) and Friday The 13th: Part 2 (1981). As I've not seen it, I cannot speak to the truth in that, but I've also no reason to deny its authenticity, either.
In any event, I do see that there are several different releases of Bay available for purchase via Amazon.com; and I do see that it's presently available to Prime Video subscribers ... so I might be checking this one out in the foreseeable future.
Happy Birthday, A Bay Of Blood! Hats off the slashing done right!
-- EZ
"An elderly heiress is killed by her husband who wants control of her fortunes. What ensues is an all-out murder spree as relatives and friends attempt to reduce the inheritance playing field, complicated by some teenagers who decide to camp out in a dilapidated building on the estate."
As stories go, it definitely looks to me as if Bay pretty much falls into the category of being a conventional Slasher-style Horror feature -- indeed, many of the tags associated to its listing on IMDB.com ascribe it as such along with being a psychological Thriller. I've also read that Bay might very well have served as an inspiration to similar slasher efforts that were both rushed into U.S. production as well as influenced directors in subsequent motion pictures with similar themes. Again, IMDB.com (a great source of both accurate and sometimes mildly inaccurate information) states that there are striking similarities between 'kills' in both Friday The 13th (1980) and Friday The 13th: Part 2 (1981). As I've not seen it, I cannot speak to the truth in that, but I've also no reason to deny its authenticity, either.
In any event, I do see that there are several different releases of Bay available for purchase via Amazon.com; and I do see that it's presently available to Prime Video subscribers ... so I might be checking this one out in the foreseeable future.
Happy Birthday, A Bay Of Blood! Hats off the slashing done right!
-- EZ
- Published on
As much as I personally love the Horror genre, I don’t pretend – and never will – to understand what makes it work for fandom.
In some cases, I think it’s clear that audiences will get caught up in the frenzy of a particular trend. For example, the Saw films of the mid-2000’s up until the present really kinda/sorta kicked off a new fascination with what is arguably called ‘torture porn;’ a great many imitators were born out of the success of that franchise, and to some degree such projects continue to rack up ticket sales even today. While there’s always been a market for slasher flicks, they, too, tend to rise-and-fall based on the success of a new player at the table who ignites the imaginations of those who vicariously like the run for their own lives via the characters they relate to. And, of course, Horror – unlike any other genre – has its own track record for crafting supernatural predators who can transcend reality for the sole purpose of continuing their respective reigns of terror across successive film entries. From Freddy Krueger to Ghost Face and even Annabelle, watchers love to hate the villains, so God bless (or is that Satan?) those inspired creators for giving us so much to fear.
Still, I haven’t spent a great deal of time exploring the Horror properties from other countries. To some degree, I’ve found that – like Comedy – true Horror doesn’t always translate all that well. Some of the cultural references don’t resonate the same way with me – a lowly American – as they do with Hispanics, Asians, or the Japanese. This isn’t to say that I’ve ignored their outputs completely; while I’ve seen a few, I tend to only see strengths in performances as opposed to their respective concepts. In fact, it’s rare that I discover something so unique that I embrace it from the earliest scenes, so you’ll have to pardon me if I admit to hanging close to what I know best.
However, I rarely pass up the chance when I can get a legitimate ‘deep dive’ into a franchise when available; and that’s what Arrow Films has offered up with their “Inside The Mind Of Coffin Joe” Blu-ray Collection. I’d somewhat sparingly heard the name of Zé do Caixão – aka Coffin Joe – the creation of Brazilian filmmaker José Mojica Marins. I believe I’d read somewhere that someone ‘in the know’ credited him with practically inventing an all-new brand of terror for his great nation, but – alas – the films themselves had escaped me. That’s no longer the case now as I’ve been provided manufacturer’s copies of an incredible ten theatrical cuts – along with a bevy of extras – and I’m set to begin this wild and wacky journey into what’s been said to be a bit bleak, a bit black, but deliciously original.
First up: 1964’s At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (aka À Meia Noite Levarei Sua Alma) … Coffin Joe’s celebrated film debut.
(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 …)
In some cases, I think it’s clear that audiences will get caught up in the frenzy of a particular trend. For example, the Saw films of the mid-2000’s up until the present really kinda/sorta kicked off a new fascination with what is arguably called ‘torture porn;’ a great many imitators were born out of the success of that franchise, and to some degree such projects continue to rack up ticket sales even today. While there’s always been a market for slasher flicks, they, too, tend to rise-and-fall based on the success of a new player at the table who ignites the imaginations of those who vicariously like the run for their own lives via the characters they relate to. And, of course, Horror – unlike any other genre – has its own track record for crafting supernatural predators who can transcend reality for the sole purpose of continuing their respective reigns of terror across successive film entries. From Freddy Krueger to Ghost Face and even Annabelle, watchers love to hate the villains, so God bless (or is that Satan?) those inspired creators for giving us so much to fear.
Still, I haven’t spent a great deal of time exploring the Horror properties from other countries. To some degree, I’ve found that – like Comedy – true Horror doesn’t always translate all that well. Some of the cultural references don’t resonate the same way with me – a lowly American – as they do with Hispanics, Asians, or the Japanese. This isn’t to say that I’ve ignored their outputs completely; while I’ve seen a few, I tend to only see strengths in performances as opposed to their respective concepts. In fact, it’s rare that I discover something so unique that I embrace it from the earliest scenes, so you’ll have to pardon me if I admit to hanging close to what I know best.
However, I rarely pass up the chance when I can get a legitimate ‘deep dive’ into a franchise when available; and that’s what Arrow Films has offered up with their “Inside The Mind Of Coffin Joe” Blu-ray Collection. I’d somewhat sparingly heard the name of Zé do Caixão – aka Coffin Joe – the creation of Brazilian filmmaker José Mojica Marins. I believe I’d read somewhere that someone ‘in the know’ credited him with practically inventing an all-new brand of terror for his great nation, but – alas – the films themselves had escaped me. That’s no longer the case now as I’ve been provided manufacturer’s copies of an incredible ten theatrical cuts – along with a bevy of extras – and I’m set to begin this wild and wacky journey into what’s been said to be a bit bleak, a bit black, but deliciously original.
First up: 1964’s At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (aka À Meia Noite Levarei Sua Alma) … Coffin Joe’s celebrated film debut.
(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 page citation:
“Driven by the overwhelming desire to have a son to continue his bloodline, blasphemous Zé do Caixão, the wicked undertaker of a tight-knit, God-fearing Brazilian village, sets his mind on finding the perfect woman to bear his child. And having grown tired of his infertile wife Lenita, the despicable mortician sets his sights on impregnating his best friend Antonio's girlfriend Terezinha, and no one can stand in his way. But as innocents die left and right, judgement comes upon Zé on the Day of the Dead in the shape of a local fortune-teller, and nothing can stop revenge--not even the cold, dark grave.”
No matter how hard an interpreter tries … no matter how good his skills are … there are some things that inevitably get lost in translation.
Whether you know this or not, languages are incredibly complex structures for communication; and – try though they might – interpreters sometimes have immense layers they must wade through in order to capture what was said into what was intended. Context can be lost, and even different words – while related – can possess multiple meanings. At the end of the process, I have to wonder whether or not part of a translator’s job includes hoping he got it right or, at least, close enough as to preserve whatever sentiment was originally expressed. If not, there might be Hell to pay.
Art – especially the art of moving pictures – has the same thematic challenges. One culture alone has a vast amount of history that might be aligning behind whatever messages its artists produce; watchers on the receiving end might throw up their hands in frustration when the stream of images and the interactions of the characters aren’t quite in sync with what their expectations were. Communication is always a risky proposition, and that’s even more the case when attempted to bridge the cultural divide.
Thankfully, there are still similarities between what moves each of us as human beings. Things like the death of a loved one or the humiliation of watching a man accidentally falling down a set of stairs generally evokes responses we can mutually appreciate. The celebration of a triumph. The despair of a defeat. The thrill of a chase. And … the loathing of a screen villain. These are sights that typically transcend some of our intellectual baggage – mainly because they align with very base feelings – so we universally accept them when we see them for what they are.
When it comes to screen villains, Coffin Joe (as played by director, writer, and star Marins) is about as elementary as they come. While his motivations might be a bit nebulous here and there (he seems hyper obsessed with perpetuating his bloodline for reasons that might lean more cultural than anything else), he’s still a bully. He’s still a braggard. He’ll torment those he happens across, and he’ll stop at nothing to remind them how insignificant they are to him. He still struts around his one-horse-town acting and dressing and speaking like everyone is beneath him; and – even worse – he’s willing to dispense with all pleasantries to see that whatever object he craves becomes his own. That doesn’t mean he’ll keep it, mind you … but he’ll keep it until something better comes along if for no reason other than he can.
“Driven by the overwhelming desire to have a son to continue his bloodline, blasphemous Zé do Caixão, the wicked undertaker of a tight-knit, God-fearing Brazilian village, sets his mind on finding the perfect woman to bear his child. And having grown tired of his infertile wife Lenita, the despicable mortician sets his sights on impregnating his best friend Antonio's girlfriend Terezinha, and no one can stand in his way. But as innocents die left and right, judgement comes upon Zé on the Day of the Dead in the shape of a local fortune-teller, and nothing can stop revenge--not even the cold, dark grave.”
No matter how hard an interpreter tries … no matter how good his skills are … there are some things that inevitably get lost in translation.
Whether you know this or not, languages are incredibly complex structures for communication; and – try though they might – interpreters sometimes have immense layers they must wade through in order to capture what was said into what was intended. Context can be lost, and even different words – while related – can possess multiple meanings. At the end of the process, I have to wonder whether or not part of a translator’s job includes hoping he got it right or, at least, close enough as to preserve whatever sentiment was originally expressed. If not, there might be Hell to pay.
Art – especially the art of moving pictures – has the same thematic challenges. One culture alone has a vast amount of history that might be aligning behind whatever messages its artists produce; watchers on the receiving end might throw up their hands in frustration when the stream of images and the interactions of the characters aren’t quite in sync with what their expectations were. Communication is always a risky proposition, and that’s even more the case when attempted to bridge the cultural divide.
Thankfully, there are still similarities between what moves each of us as human beings. Things like the death of a loved one or the humiliation of watching a man accidentally falling down a set of stairs generally evokes responses we can mutually appreciate. The celebration of a triumph. The despair of a defeat. The thrill of a chase. And … the loathing of a screen villain. These are sights that typically transcend some of our intellectual baggage – mainly because they align with very base feelings – so we universally accept them when we see them for what they are.
When it comes to screen villains, Coffin Joe (as played by director, writer, and star Marins) is about as elementary as they come. While his motivations might be a bit nebulous here and there (he seems hyper obsessed with perpetuating his bloodline for reasons that might lean more cultural than anything else), he’s still a bully. He’s still a braggard. He’ll torment those he happens across, and he’ll stop at nothing to remind them how insignificant they are to him. He still struts around his one-horse-town acting and dressing and speaking like everyone is beneath him; and – even worse – he’s willing to dispense with all pleasantries to see that whatever object he craves becomes his own. That doesn’t mean he’ll keep it, mind you … but he’ll keep it until something better comes along if for no reason other than he can.
In stories like Coffin Joe’s debut, there are other characters, but all of them really only exist because they’re needed in order to demonstrate the undertaker’s ability to dominate and subjugate the citizens of this tiny village to his wishes. His wife turns out to be barren? That’s ok. Joe will arrange for her to be bitten by a poisonous spider. His best friend’s girl is who he wants next? Again, no problem! He’ll simply drown Antonio (Nivaldo Lima) and seize Terezinha (Magda Mei) for a night of carnal delights. The lady commits suicide in despair over being violated? Big deal! Coffin Joe has already set his sights on the mysterious stranger who conveniently has strolled into town on the fateful Day Of The Dead. By hook or by crook, his needs will be met!
Of course, Joe eventually crosses the wrong path, namely he gets a curse thrown upon him by a fortune-telling gypsy who sees him for what he truly is. For those of you unaware, supernatural justice is mortal payback, and Coffin Joe finds himself inevitably cornered by forces well beyond his Earthly manipulations. Marins winds his cautionary tale down just in the knick of time, never allowing the character to hang on past his narrative usefulness … though I’ve been assured by the supply of the entire set that this isn’t the last I’ve seen of this creation. Much like Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, and Leatherface, nasty evildoers rarely are one-and-done, though I’ve no idea how this oppressor undertaker with a bad attitude might cheat death in the forthcoming sequel. Time will tell.
That said, there isn’t much more to make of At Midnight.
At times, the film feels like a parody, mostly because it’s old and it’s broadly drawn. At other times, it really smacks of an auteur experimenting to the point wherein he was figuring just what he could get away with. Whether or not Marins felt he crossed the personal Rubicon, I’ll never know. As a small morality tale, it works just fine. It has obvious comic sensibilities at play here and there – players speak directly to the camera in the opening monologue much in the same way any good storyteller might try to ‘set the stage’ for what’s to follow. In some ways, the feature reminded me of comedy sketch shows that crafted a none-too-scary narrator to introduce a poorly produced film only to then show up at some point in that story within a story for pure hilarious effect. Coffin Joe definitely breaks that fourth wall, speaking directly to his audience, but beyond the taunt of it (much in the same way he harangued the villagers he thought himself better than) I’m not certain how seriously I’m supposed to take all of this.
Maybe I’ll know more … with the sequel?
Honestly, I had some fun with the film. There’s some occasional camera trickery – our anti-hero’s eyes show pronounced blood veins when he’s about to lapse into some state of depravity – but it’s merely a suggestion that there’s more to the character than meets the eye. Clearly, At Midnight establishes its relative vibe, so much so that I wonder how much and exactly what Marins intended – Comedy, Horror, a treatise on the supernatural, or some other serious ‘think piece.’ Personally, I see it as a project that probably shouldn’t be viewed and taken seriously. Indeed, I kept wondering if it all was intended to be this elaborate joke – I couldn’t believe all of these townspeople would just live in fear of this somewhat scrawny undertaker dressed like a British dandy strolling around town and graveyards like he owns the places, interrupting even the sanctity of a funeral to make his mind known – and I expected it to come to some glorious finale involving torches, pitchforks, and the kitchen sink. While that never develops, there’s still a sense of closure for these good people, and maybe that’s good enough.
Of course, Joe eventually crosses the wrong path, namely he gets a curse thrown upon him by a fortune-telling gypsy who sees him for what he truly is. For those of you unaware, supernatural justice is mortal payback, and Coffin Joe finds himself inevitably cornered by forces well beyond his Earthly manipulations. Marins winds his cautionary tale down just in the knick of time, never allowing the character to hang on past his narrative usefulness … though I’ve been assured by the supply of the entire set that this isn’t the last I’ve seen of this creation. Much like Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, and Leatherface, nasty evildoers rarely are one-and-done, though I’ve no idea how this oppressor undertaker with a bad attitude might cheat death in the forthcoming sequel. Time will tell.
That said, there isn’t much more to make of At Midnight.
At times, the film feels like a parody, mostly because it’s old and it’s broadly drawn. At other times, it really smacks of an auteur experimenting to the point wherein he was figuring just what he could get away with. Whether or not Marins felt he crossed the personal Rubicon, I’ll never know. As a small morality tale, it works just fine. It has obvious comic sensibilities at play here and there – players speak directly to the camera in the opening monologue much in the same way any good storyteller might try to ‘set the stage’ for what’s to follow. In some ways, the feature reminded me of comedy sketch shows that crafted a none-too-scary narrator to introduce a poorly produced film only to then show up at some point in that story within a story for pure hilarious effect. Coffin Joe definitely breaks that fourth wall, speaking directly to his audience, but beyond the taunt of it (much in the same way he harangued the villagers he thought himself better than) I’m not certain how seriously I’m supposed to take all of this.
Maybe I’ll know more … with the sequel?
Honestly, I had some fun with the film. There’s some occasional camera trickery – our anti-hero’s eyes show pronounced blood veins when he’s about to lapse into some state of depravity – but it’s merely a suggestion that there’s more to the character than meets the eye. Clearly, At Midnight establishes its relative vibe, so much so that I wonder how much and exactly what Marins intended – Comedy, Horror, a treatise on the supernatural, or some other serious ‘think piece.’ Personally, I see it as a project that probably shouldn’t be viewed and taken seriously. Indeed, I kept wondering if it all was intended to be this elaborate joke – I couldn’t believe all of these townspeople would just live in fear of this somewhat scrawny undertaker dressed like a British dandy strolling around town and graveyards like he owns the places, interrupting even the sanctity of a funeral to make his mind known – and I expected it to come to some glorious finale involving torches, pitchforks, and the kitchen sink. While that never develops, there’s still a sense of closure for these good people, and maybe that’s good enough.
At Night I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) was produced by Indústria Cinemátografica Apolo. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … wow. This flick does not look like it’s six decades old. There’s a crispness to most of it, so much so that I kept wondering if this were a project shot on video and I was being punked. (Rest assured, that’s not the case!) As for the special features? In order to do it justice, I’m doing the faithful copy and paste from Arrow’s press release posted on the World Wide Web:
Recommended.
What’s unique about At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) – on top of it allegedly being the birth of the Brazilian Horror scene – is that Coffin Joe is both the film’s protagonist and antagonist depending upon one’s perspective. He portrays himself as against all popular (and civil) conventions, and he winds up being taken to task – by the universe, no less – for his arrogance. As the main character, you’re swept up in only casually caring about his Fate … or, at least, staying interested long enough to finally see him get what’s coming to him. (You know he’s in for a comeuppance, and most of the fun is waiting to see it delivered.) Marins crafted a charming debut – deaths and a unshown rape included – and it arguably sets the stage for something unique for those of us who still pine for something a bit different.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a Blu-ray copy of At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) as part of their Inside The Mind Of Coffin Joe Set for the sole purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Brand new 4K restoration of This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse from the original 35mm camera negative and 35mm interpositive
- Brand new 4K restoration of The Strange World of Coffin Joe from a 35mm interpositive and a 35mm print
- Archive audio commentaries for both films with José Mojica Marins, Paulo Duarte and Carlos Primati (Portuguese with English subtitles)
- Eccentric of Cinema, a new interview with author Stephen Thrower examining the early life and influences of José Mojica Marins
- On Tonight's Horror Show!, a new video essay by film scholar Miranda Corcoran looking at the mythic figure of Coffin Joe within the canon of horror hosts
- Alternative ending for The Strange World of Coffin Joe with commentary by José Mojica Marins
- Theatrical trailers
Recommended.
What’s unique about At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) – on top of it allegedly being the birth of the Brazilian Horror scene – is that Coffin Joe is both the film’s protagonist and antagonist depending upon one’s perspective. He portrays himself as against all popular (and civil) conventions, and he winds up being taken to task – by the universe, no less – for his arrogance. As the main character, you’re swept up in only casually caring about his Fate … or, at least, staying interested long enough to finally see him get what’s coming to him. (You know he’s in for a comeuppance, and most of the fun is waiting to see it delivered.) Marins crafted a charming debut – deaths and a unshown rape included – and it arguably sets the stage for something unique for those of us who still pine for something a bit different.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a Blu-ray copy of At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) as part of their Inside The Mind Of Coffin Joe Set for the sole purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
From what I understand, 1975’s adaptation of the Ira Levin novel The Stepford Wives actually made an honest attempt to avoid controversy. What did producers get in return for their efforts? They created controversy.
Let me explain a bit of history …
You see, it was the 1970’s, and any brainiac, academic, and/or historian will tell you that the 70’s was a time wherein people around the world were on a quest to find themselves. As an example, the wider U.S. population was still reeling with such paradigm-shifting events as The Vietnam War and Watergate, and there was this creeping suspicion that perhaps our country wasn’t the generational savior many had been raised to believe. The 1960’s had pushed an all-new culture movement to the forefront of collective consciousness, and the door swung open to the advent of the Sexual Revolution and Feminism. Women were – ahem – “leaving the home” to find themselves, and men would have to make the necessary adjustments to accept that their wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters were blazing trails all of their own.
So it was understandable that Levin’s novel published in 1972 tried to approach this ongoing ‘battle of the sexes’ from a position of artistic relevance, but – as one can imagine – there are always more than one side to every perspective. Though the Wives’ tome was already regarded as a ‘feminist horror satire’ (per Wikipedia.org), there seemed to be a rather wide scale about just what feminism – as a concept – might resemble both at the time and for the future. In its infancy, this wasn’t just a campaign about wages and representation: its biggest purveyors sought nothing less than a seat at every table – from education to business to politics – and they’d stop at nothing to see their demands acquiesced by whomever could assist in that process. Some might suggest that satire – a genre that’s traditionally misunderstood – disrespects every subject matter it touches by ever-so-lightly lampooning some core tenets in the process; and I think it was probably this sentiment that convinced Columbia Pictures to ‘get out ahead’ of activists, organizers, and other free thinkers who might see the resulting film as slanderous to their cause.
A February 26, 1975 article from the New York Times largely paints the special screening the studio scheduled with prominent feminists of the day as particularly disastrous, even highlighting the fact that the National Organization for Women vice president Betty Friedan walked out of it allegedly after only seeing a scant 10-minutes (of a nearly 2-hour picture). The reporter suggests that Friedan’s take was that Columbia Pictures and director Bryan Forbes were using The Stepford Wives to ‘hijack’ the women’s movement, apparently turning it into something that would instead be run by males over females. All I can say honestly as a response is that had the lady sat and watched the entirety of the flick then perhaps she might’ve fully understood that both the Levin novel and this resulting adaptation was on their side.
Let me explain a bit of history …
You see, it was the 1970’s, and any brainiac, academic, and/or historian will tell you that the 70’s was a time wherein people around the world were on a quest to find themselves. As an example, the wider U.S. population was still reeling with such paradigm-shifting events as The Vietnam War and Watergate, and there was this creeping suspicion that perhaps our country wasn’t the generational savior many had been raised to believe. The 1960’s had pushed an all-new culture movement to the forefront of collective consciousness, and the door swung open to the advent of the Sexual Revolution and Feminism. Women were – ahem – “leaving the home” to find themselves, and men would have to make the necessary adjustments to accept that their wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters were blazing trails all of their own.
So it was understandable that Levin’s novel published in 1972 tried to approach this ongoing ‘battle of the sexes’ from a position of artistic relevance, but – as one can imagine – there are always more than one side to every perspective. Though the Wives’ tome was already regarded as a ‘feminist horror satire’ (per Wikipedia.org), there seemed to be a rather wide scale about just what feminism – as a concept – might resemble both at the time and for the future. In its infancy, this wasn’t just a campaign about wages and representation: its biggest purveyors sought nothing less than a seat at every table – from education to business to politics – and they’d stop at nothing to see their demands acquiesced by whomever could assist in that process. Some might suggest that satire – a genre that’s traditionally misunderstood – disrespects every subject matter it touches by ever-so-lightly lampooning some core tenets in the process; and I think it was probably this sentiment that convinced Columbia Pictures to ‘get out ahead’ of activists, organizers, and other free thinkers who might see the resulting film as slanderous to their cause.
A February 26, 1975 article from the New York Times largely paints the special screening the studio scheduled with prominent feminists of the day as particularly disastrous, even highlighting the fact that the National Organization for Women vice president Betty Friedan walked out of it allegedly after only seeing a scant 10-minutes (of a nearly 2-hour picture). The reporter suggests that Friedan’s take was that Columbia Pictures and director Bryan Forbes were using The Stepford Wives to ‘hijack’ the women’s movement, apparently turning it into something that would instead be run by males over females. All I can say honestly as a response is that had the lady sat and watched the entirety of the flick then perhaps she might’ve fully understood that both the Levin novel and this resulting adaptation was on their side.
In fact, we’ve all seen this happen to art – especially films and television – when politics, social justice, or other concerns get injected into stories: some folks from whatever ideological angle get upset. Even as I write this review, I see the Information Superhighway overrun with perspective pieces about Lucasfilm’s latest debacle – The Acolyte, a streaming show that was entirely predicated on upending traditional roles in the Star Wars universe by making The Jedi into villains and crafting a coven of oppressed Lesbian witches to be the true victims of the galaxy far, far away – and it grows increasingly clear that neither side in this fight seek reconciliation. What these ‘young Turks’ don’t realize, however, is that this battle has probably been going on long before they were born and will exist until the days when our sun finally burns out.
The older I grow, the less authentic change I see.
Now that you know some history, let’s talk about why I think Wives is one of those projects that’s been misunderstood for decades and why it deserves a rediscovery in today’s troubled times.
(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 page citation:
“Joanna Eberhart has come to the quaint little town of Stepford, Connecticut with her family, but soon discovers there lies a sinister truth in the all too perfect behavior of the female residents.”
1975’s The Stepford Wives opens quietly with a scene of big city gal Joanna Eberhart (played by Katharine Ross) sitting by a window in a mostly empty apartment gazing silently about. As the camera moves in and we along with it, she gives no significant indication of thought or movement, listlessly waiting for a story to begin. In those few quick seconds, director Bryan Forbes and screenwriter William Goldman have introduced her as a woman in search of herself, much like all women were in the 1970’s. Clearly, this Joanna has reached some crossroad in her life; and though we may lack the specifics it’s clear that she’s found herself isolated in this space, adrift while she waits for the universe to help her find where she truly belongs.
Downstairs, she joins her two children in the family station wagon.
A block away, an average looking fellow carries a naked female mannequin across the street. Curiously, this department store model wears a mask over its plastic frozen face – perhaps a telling reminder that identity doesn’t matter in a world consumed by carnal appetites – but the remainder of the female form is on full display for all – namely men – to ogle. Even Joanna’s children in the backseat take note, and they can’t help but share with their father Walter (Peter Masterson) when he climbs in behind the wheel that they just saw a man carrying a naked woman down the block.
“That’s why we’re moving to Stepford,” he says wryly.
The older I grow, the less authentic change I see.
Now that you know some history, let’s talk about why I think Wives is one of those projects that’s been misunderstood for decades and why it deserves a rediscovery in today’s troubled times.
(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 page citation:
“Joanna Eberhart has come to the quaint little town of Stepford, Connecticut with her family, but soon discovers there lies a sinister truth in the all too perfect behavior of the female residents.”
1975’s The Stepford Wives opens quietly with a scene of big city gal Joanna Eberhart (played by Katharine Ross) sitting by a window in a mostly empty apartment gazing silently about. As the camera moves in and we along with it, she gives no significant indication of thought or movement, listlessly waiting for a story to begin. In those few quick seconds, director Bryan Forbes and screenwriter William Goldman have introduced her as a woman in search of herself, much like all women were in the 1970’s. Clearly, this Joanna has reached some crossroad in her life; and though we may lack the specifics it’s clear that she’s found herself isolated in this space, adrift while she waits for the universe to help her find where she truly belongs.
Downstairs, she joins her two children in the family station wagon.
A block away, an average looking fellow carries a naked female mannequin across the street. Curiously, this department store model wears a mask over its plastic frozen face – perhaps a telling reminder that identity doesn’t matter in a world consumed by carnal appetites – but the remainder of the female form is on full display for all – namely men – to ogle. Even Joanna’s children in the backseat take note, and they can’t help but share with their father Walter (Peter Masterson) when he climbs in behind the wheel that they just saw a man carrying a naked woman down the block.
“That’s why we’re moving to Stepford,” he says wryly.
In any other film, it would be a harmless moment, one that might produce a chuckle or two, but The Stepford Wives is no ordinary film. Based on the Levin novel, it was clearly a product of its era, one laced with an undercurrent of sexual energy being redirected in surprising directions by both genders. Roles in the home and abroad were changing, and Wives reflects on how these differences affected both its men and women in their struggle to come to grips in this new reality … although, yes, it’s easy to concede that the men ‘get off easy’ with the realization that the perfect wife is only possible any longer with the total loss of her individuality.
Unless I missed it, Goldman’s script gives no purely definitive explanation for why the Eberharts abandon the big city for life in the idyllic small-town haven of Stepford. There are suggestions tied to Walter’s job (he’s overworked) and Joanna’s dissatisfaction with her lack of success as a photographer (it’s interesting that she doesn’t find her passion until she’s on the brink of losing her mortal soul); but such ambiguousness was possibly also meant to be in keeping with the times. When society herks and jerks progressively forward, it produces anxiety in us all, so just knowing that this marital relationship is in crisis works perfectly for what follows.
Because Walter remains consumed with finding a way to both fit in socially and professionally, it’s understandable why he misses all of the troubled indications that Joanna picks up on around town. Why are these women so obsessed with household chores and raising children? How is it that they have perfect hair, perfect clothes, and perfect bodies when all they seemingly do is clean? Why do they seemingly exist to do little more than serve every conceivable need – sexual or otherwise – of their chosen mates? Could it be that they’ve somehow been brainwashed? Could there have been some mind-altering chemical inserted into the water supply? How is it that all of these lives seeming coexist to make male fantasies the ultimate reality?
Eventually, Joanna meets and befriends Bobby (Paula Prentiss), another restless newcomer to Stepford who, too, comes from the big city, likes to live life a bit on the wild side, and is equally smitten with her own personal happiness being weighed in the complex marital equation. Together, they set out to introduce a measure of modernity to the city’s long-standing traditions; and yet at each and every opportunity the old guard of Stepford wives rejects such advances. These ladies would rather swap laundry secrets than burn their bras, and it isn’t long into their process that Joanna and Bobby suspect something dire must be afoot. Certainly, no Earthly place can be like this, and they’ll stop at nothing to expose Stepford for the Hell they find it to be.
Granted, the story doesn’t stop there, and a reasonable person could argue that Stepford never really ended even after the screen faded to black. For it’s then that the true dialogue begins – the incessant debates about feminism, misogyny, gender, the Walt Disney Company’s hinted-at involvement, and maybe robotics or artificial intelligence – and I suspect this is why the film took some time to find its footing amongst cineastes and grow to have the alleged cult following it maintains to this day. Some of this might even be owed to the fact that – as a product – it’s a flick in short supply (it may have only been issued on home video once, from what I can find, and I presently can’t find it available for streaming); and the controversy surrounding its original U.S. release is still talked about it some internet circles even today.
Ideologies aside, there’s a great deal to enjoy in the film.
Unless I missed it, Goldman’s script gives no purely definitive explanation for why the Eberharts abandon the big city for life in the idyllic small-town haven of Stepford. There are suggestions tied to Walter’s job (he’s overworked) and Joanna’s dissatisfaction with her lack of success as a photographer (it’s interesting that she doesn’t find her passion until she’s on the brink of losing her mortal soul); but such ambiguousness was possibly also meant to be in keeping with the times. When society herks and jerks progressively forward, it produces anxiety in us all, so just knowing that this marital relationship is in crisis works perfectly for what follows.
Because Walter remains consumed with finding a way to both fit in socially and professionally, it’s understandable why he misses all of the troubled indications that Joanna picks up on around town. Why are these women so obsessed with household chores and raising children? How is it that they have perfect hair, perfect clothes, and perfect bodies when all they seemingly do is clean? Why do they seemingly exist to do little more than serve every conceivable need – sexual or otherwise – of their chosen mates? Could it be that they’ve somehow been brainwashed? Could there have been some mind-altering chemical inserted into the water supply? How is it that all of these lives seeming coexist to make male fantasies the ultimate reality?
Eventually, Joanna meets and befriends Bobby (Paula Prentiss), another restless newcomer to Stepford who, too, comes from the big city, likes to live life a bit on the wild side, and is equally smitten with her own personal happiness being weighed in the complex marital equation. Together, they set out to introduce a measure of modernity to the city’s long-standing traditions; and yet at each and every opportunity the old guard of Stepford wives rejects such advances. These ladies would rather swap laundry secrets than burn their bras, and it isn’t long into their process that Joanna and Bobby suspect something dire must be afoot. Certainly, no Earthly place can be like this, and they’ll stop at nothing to expose Stepford for the Hell they find it to be.
Granted, the story doesn’t stop there, and a reasonable person could argue that Stepford never really ended even after the screen faded to black. For it’s then that the true dialogue begins – the incessant debates about feminism, misogyny, gender, the Walt Disney Company’s hinted-at involvement, and maybe robotics or artificial intelligence – and I suspect this is why the film took some time to find its footing amongst cineastes and grow to have the alleged cult following it maintains to this day. Some of this might even be owed to the fact that – as a product – it’s a flick in short supply (it may have only been issued on home video once, from what I can find, and I presently can’t find it available for streaming); and the controversy surrounding its original U.S. release is still talked about it some internet circles even today.
Ideologies aside, there’s a great deal to enjoy in the film.
Prentiss is a delight, delivering heartily on the prospects of the modern woman whose impulses might change with the flip of a coin. As the picture’s only male who gets respectable screen time, Masterson is good; he handles the task of slowly succumbing to Stepford’s male-dominated status quo despite indications that he only wants what’s best for his wife and kids. But it’s Ross who delivers a fabulous performance from her somewhat languid intro to her controlled but voluptuously poised and perfect supermarket appearance, bookended scenes that could keep academics pontificating for hours on end. Alongside the very solid yet subversive visuals of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers remake (circa 1978), Wives dishes a great and memorable late-breaking reveal when – ahem – Joanna meets RoboJoanna in the makeshift bedroom constructed within the Stepford Men’s Society building. Their eyes meet – one set aghast and one set robotically vacant – and audiences couldn’t escape the truth that these two visions of loveliness couldn’t possibly exist in the same universe.
In true Levin fashion, they don’t.
The Stepford Wives (1975) was produced by Palomar Pictures International and Fadsin Cinema Associates. DVD distribution (for this particular release) was handled by the fine folks at Paramount Pictures. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds for this 2004 home video release to be pretty good: there’s a great deal of grain to some sequences, so I’d be the first to suggest that the project is long past-due for a remastering. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a roughly 20-minute set of interviews with Forbes, producer Edgar J. Scherick, and the main cast members. (Yes, it’s light, but it’s still good.) There are also some trailers and radio spots for folks who like that sort of thing.
Highest Recommendation Possible.
I have a vague recollection of seeing this one originally on the silver screen at the drive-in theater of my youth, but now that I’m older I think that The Stepford Wives is one of the great subversive SciFi experiences of the 1970’s. I think that it was unnecessarily trashed by activists of its day who maybe didn’t quite understand that both the film and the original source material were on their side politically; and maybe if they had seen past their own shortsightedness the project could’ve resonated and helped their cause. Rarely do controversial ideas like this translate as effortlessly to the screen; and – if anything – I could suggest that this cut goes on a bit longer than was narratively necessary. It really makes its point with possibly ten or fifteen minutes to spare, so a nip and a tuck here and there might’ve made for a better shape … or is that the latent misogynist in me?
In the interests of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Stepford Wives (1975) as I purchased this physical media for my own personal collection.
-- EZ
In true Levin fashion, they don’t.
The Stepford Wives (1975) was produced by Palomar Pictures International and Fadsin Cinema Associates. DVD distribution (for this particular release) was handled by the fine folks at Paramount Pictures. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds for this 2004 home video release to be pretty good: there’s a great deal of grain to some sequences, so I’d be the first to suggest that the project is long past-due for a remastering. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a roughly 20-minute set of interviews with Forbes, producer Edgar J. Scherick, and the main cast members. (Yes, it’s light, but it’s still good.) There are also some trailers and radio spots for folks who like that sort of thing.
Highest Recommendation Possible.
I have a vague recollection of seeing this one originally on the silver screen at the drive-in theater of my youth, but now that I’m older I think that The Stepford Wives is one of the great subversive SciFi experiences of the 1970’s. I think that it was unnecessarily trashed by activists of its day who maybe didn’t quite understand that both the film and the original source material were on their side politically; and maybe if they had seen past their own shortsightedness the project could’ve resonated and helped their cause. Rarely do controversial ideas like this translate as effortlessly to the screen; and – if anything – I could suggest that this cut goes on a bit longer than was narratively necessary. It really makes its point with possibly ten or fifteen minutes to spare, so a nip and a tuck here and there might’ve made for a better shape … or is that the latent misogynist in me?
In the interests of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Stepford Wives (1975) as I purchased this physical media for my own personal collection.
-- EZ
- Published on
As I've mentioned hundreds of times here on SciFiHistory.Net -- along with a variety of other places where I occasionally find myself -- I wasn't that big a fan of the original Stargate series during its run. Though I did watch the first few episodes when it originally premiered on Showtime, it just didn't quite intrigue me enough to hang with it. I've since gone back and watched the first few seasons on streaming; and -- while I do appreciate a bit more now that I'm older (and immeasureably wiser) -- I'll still admit that it only occasionally resonates with me as much as it does with fandom in general. I like it. I'm just not gaga over it.
Regardless, I'm thankful for the franchise because it's given so many talented faces a chance to play in the realms of the Fantastic, such as that of Obi Ndefo. Across the show's run on television, the actor enjoyed six appearances, and that's definitely some feat. For what it's worth, I can see from his professional profile that he's also dabbled elsewhere in entertainment, and he's enjoyed a bit of screen time in such other diversions as Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, 3rd Rock From The Sun, Angel, Star Trek: Voyager, and Vampires In Venice (2013).
I noticed a posting of the man's passing just over the weekend, and I wanted to share the information with the readership. From what I can understand, his life had been challenging as of late -- he'd lost his legs relating to an accident, and I believe his passing was owed to a rare eating disorder -- and I hope we can all find solace in knowing that he's, at least, no longer suffering in any pain that may've befallen him later in life.
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Ndefo.
May he rest in peace.
-- EZ
Regardless, I'm thankful for the franchise because it's given so many talented faces a chance to play in the realms of the Fantastic, such as that of Obi Ndefo. Across the show's run on television, the actor enjoyed six appearances, and that's definitely some feat. For what it's worth, I can see from his professional profile that he's also dabbled elsewhere in entertainment, and he's enjoyed a bit of screen time in such other diversions as Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, 3rd Rock From The Sun, Angel, Star Trek: Voyager, and Vampires In Venice (2013).
I noticed a posting of the man's passing just over the weekend, and I wanted to share the information with the readership. From what I can understand, his life had been challenging as of late -- he'd lost his legs relating to an accident, and I believe his passing was owed to a rare eating disorder -- and I hope we can all find solace in knowing that he's, at least, no longer suffering in any pain that may've befallen him later in life.
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Ndefo.
May he rest in peace.
-- EZ
- Published on
If I remember correctly, the great James Darren got his professional start as an actor in a handful of those popular teen-set movies in the 1950's and 1960's before truly putting his serious chops to work. Of course, his prospects for employment really grew when it was discovered that -- lo and behold -- this guy could croon like it was nobody's business as well. Success pretty much followed the guy around for a time; and it wasn't all that long before genre fans got a healthy dose of his charm and charisma when Irwin Allen cast him in the guise of 'Dr. Tony Newman,' one of two geniuses who found themselves thrown about in world history in The Time Tunnel (1966-1967). I couldn't say whether or not the show was that much of a hit -- it did last only a single season, after all -- and yet the man continued to ply his craft whenever Hollywood (and beyond) gave him the chance.
While I wasn't as big a fan of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine as were so many others, I did think that the show often times had a great vibe that occasionally matched up with what Gene Roddenberry often tried to do with the original: it commented on modern times under the clever veil of Science Fiction and Fantasy. A great many of its earlier hours -- while somewhat forgettable as the show wore on -- thematically felt similar to the journeys of Kirk and company; but -- yes -- Deep Space Nine arguably wanted to go where no one had gone before into longer storytelling arcs, and the Dominion War was born. Still, the crew needed the necessary R&R, so the creation of the hip '60's lounge in the Holodeck -- one managed by Vic Fontaine -- was a wonderful distraction.
Was there anyone else in all of Tinseltown who could've played Vic Fontaine but James Darren?
Well, you can argue that all day long if you like, but consider me amongst those who thought the crooner and nightclub name was perfect. Darren was a fabulous addition to the program, once again kinda/sorta grounding it back in our Earthly reality at a time when the episodes were really pushing alien conflict. It felt organic. It felt needed, at times. And Darren did an incredible job bringing all of us back home again, if only for a tune or two.
Alas ... none of us lasts forever, and word reached the Information Superhighway late yesterday of the actor and singer's passing. Though his reach into the realms of the Fantastic was a bit slim for some, I for one am thrilled that we got to know him -- and that marvelous voice -- in the hours that we did.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Darren.
May he rest in peace.
-- EZ
While I wasn't as big a fan of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine as were so many others, I did think that the show often times had a great vibe that occasionally matched up with what Gene Roddenberry often tried to do with the original: it commented on modern times under the clever veil of Science Fiction and Fantasy. A great many of its earlier hours -- while somewhat forgettable as the show wore on -- thematically felt similar to the journeys of Kirk and company; but -- yes -- Deep Space Nine arguably wanted to go where no one had gone before into longer storytelling arcs, and the Dominion War was born. Still, the crew needed the necessary R&R, so the creation of the hip '60's lounge in the Holodeck -- one managed by Vic Fontaine -- was a wonderful distraction.
Was there anyone else in all of Tinseltown who could've played Vic Fontaine but James Darren?
Well, you can argue that all day long if you like, but consider me amongst those who thought the crooner and nightclub name was perfect. Darren was a fabulous addition to the program, once again kinda/sorta grounding it back in our Earthly reality at a time when the episodes were really pushing alien conflict. It felt organic. It felt needed, at times. And Darren did an incredible job bringing all of us back home again, if only for a tune or two.
Alas ... none of us lasts forever, and word reached the Information Superhighway late yesterday of the actor and singer's passing. Though his reach into the realms of the Fantastic was a bit slim for some, I for one am thrilled that we got to know him -- and that marvelous voice -- in the hours that we did.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Darren.
May he rest in peace.
-- 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 page citation:
“In 1947, in New Mexico, a radio operator receives a signal following regular patterns. While investigating the occurrence, he vanishes. In the present day, the same signal is transmitted from a base in the Falkland Islands to United States of America and a satellite captures images of an unknown object in Antartic. The cryptologist Julien Rome is invited to investigate the mystery in the South Pole, and he flies to a research base. While a team tries to open a weird shell probably from the outer space, Julien solves the message, which proves to be a distress signal ordering not to open the case.”
Folks, there’s one unavoidable problem if you’re going to craft a Science Fiction film and set it in either the Arctic or Antarctic: you’re automatically risking comparison to two of the genre’s best efforts – 1951’s The Thing From Another World and its 1982 remake The Thing.
Now, if that’s what you want to do, then so be it. Me? Well, I’d rather leave myself a fair amount of wiggle room to try to get something tonally right all on my own; but storytellers are ultimately going to do what storytellers are going to do. Perhaps by mustering up such associations, directors and screenwriters feel that they’re in good territory, that they’re going to reap some associational benefits from those haloes previously hoisted over greater productions, and maybe they’re experience greater goodwill from audiences who recognize the rather obvious similarities. No, haters, I’m not saying that there are no other alien-adjacent adventures that can’t be set in the cold: I’m simply underscoring it’s a huge, huge, huge risk, and – in that respect – Alien Hunter never really had a chance.
In fact, I wonder if a great number of folks who’ve found this curious picture wind up feeling more than a bit cheated. For example, when you cast a star like James Spader – who has fostered and developed a certain performance charm all of his own – why allot so little time for him to do what he does so uniquely well? His bookish eccentricity made 1994’s Stargate a vastly better film than it would’ve been without his contributions, but Hunter pretty much sidelines him with sequences working with computers or staring intently into one of the many dark spaces he tries to explore in this subterranean base once it all goes to shit. (FYI: it always goes to shit in thrillers of this variety.) That and the fact that he’s the aforementioned ‘Alien Hunter’ of the title – leaving very little room for authentic aliens – would probably have some heading for the exits before this clunker even gets to the final reel.
Julian Rome (played by Spader) is a communications and linguistics expert who experienced a professional fall from grace when he attached a bit too much of his profile to mankind’s somewhat failed SETI experiment, the defunct program whose intention it was to contact extraterrestrial life. Now making ends meet via his college professorship, he winds up being pulled back into the search when a research team in Antarctica find what they suspect could be a frozen alien craft emitting an electronic message. Essentially sent to decipher what everyone believes could be a new language, he eventually learns that the communique is actually a warning, one that gets lost in the shuffle once the creature that is trapped inside suddenly gets out.
As a rather conventional thriller, Alien Hunter has a good number of the required pieces for success. The problem lies almost entirely in its substandard assembly, and I’ll try to highlight what worked and didn’t in the process.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In 1947, in New Mexico, a radio operator receives a signal following regular patterns. While investigating the occurrence, he vanishes. In the present day, the same signal is transmitted from a base in the Falkland Islands to United States of America and a satellite captures images of an unknown object in Antartic. The cryptologist Julien Rome is invited to investigate the mystery in the South Pole, and he flies to a research base. While a team tries to open a weird shell probably from the outer space, Julien solves the message, which proves to be a distress signal ordering not to open the case.”
Folks, there’s one unavoidable problem if you’re going to craft a Science Fiction film and set it in either the Arctic or Antarctic: you’re automatically risking comparison to two of the genre’s best efforts – 1951’s The Thing From Another World and its 1982 remake The Thing.
Now, if that’s what you want to do, then so be it. Me? Well, I’d rather leave myself a fair amount of wiggle room to try to get something tonally right all on my own; but storytellers are ultimately going to do what storytellers are going to do. Perhaps by mustering up such associations, directors and screenwriters feel that they’re in good territory, that they’re going to reap some associational benefits from those haloes previously hoisted over greater productions, and maybe they’re experience greater goodwill from audiences who recognize the rather obvious similarities. No, haters, I’m not saying that there are no other alien-adjacent adventures that can’t be set in the cold: I’m simply underscoring it’s a huge, huge, huge risk, and – in that respect – Alien Hunter never really had a chance.
In fact, I wonder if a great number of folks who’ve found this curious picture wind up feeling more than a bit cheated. For example, when you cast a star like James Spader – who has fostered and developed a certain performance charm all of his own – why allot so little time for him to do what he does so uniquely well? His bookish eccentricity made 1994’s Stargate a vastly better film than it would’ve been without his contributions, but Hunter pretty much sidelines him with sequences working with computers or staring intently into one of the many dark spaces he tries to explore in this subterranean base once it all goes to shit. (FYI: it always goes to shit in thrillers of this variety.) That and the fact that he’s the aforementioned ‘Alien Hunter’ of the title – leaving very little room for authentic aliens – would probably have some heading for the exits before this clunker even gets to the final reel.
Julian Rome (played by Spader) is a communications and linguistics expert who experienced a professional fall from grace when he attached a bit too much of his profile to mankind’s somewhat failed SETI experiment, the defunct program whose intention it was to contact extraterrestrial life. Now making ends meet via his college professorship, he winds up being pulled back into the search when a research team in Antarctica find what they suspect could be a frozen alien craft emitting an electronic message. Essentially sent to decipher what everyone believes could be a new language, he eventually learns that the communique is actually a warning, one that gets lost in the shuffle once the creature that is trapped inside suddenly gets out.
As a rather conventional thriller, Alien Hunter has a good number of the required pieces for success. The problem lies almost entirely in its substandard assembly, and I’ll try to highlight what worked and didn’t in the process.
First up, there’s entirely too much set-up, some of which becomes cumbersome to the pace. Hunter opens with a scene meant to tie this early 2000’s adventure to Roswell, New Mexico – the granddaddy of all alien fish stories around. Back in 1947, a ham radio operator stumbles across an unexplained signal – the same that’ll challenge Rome’s intellectual curiosity fifty years later – and the man sets out to investigate. Eventually, audiences are led to believe that the man may or may not have been abducted (it’s left unclear); and this vignette only comes up again late in the picture when Rome’s university boss – Dr. John Bachman (Roy Dotrice) – gets conscripted by the U.S. government to explain away the mystery (in an obvious information dump of exposition) to his employee via radio.
Second, screenwriters J.S. Cardone and Boaz Davidson felt it was apparently necessary to craft some scenes of Rome doing his teaching thing at the university. Some might conclude that this was intended to be character development; and – to a small degree – that’s entirely possible as viewers learn not once but twice that the man has a penchant for entertaining coeds privately. However, the educator’s character flaws comes up a third time – once he’s arrived at the distant base – in a spot where it feels vastly more relevant because it links him to another key researcher – Kate Brecher (Janine Eser) – he joins on this mission. Yet because the script felt it necessary to keep reminding us over so short a time of Rome’s dalliances – rest assured, it comes up again – the man now seems like less of an expert and more of an unprincipled womanizer. When the bloom is this far off the rose, it becomes harder and harder to see ‘our hero’ as ‘our hero.’
Lastly, Hunter struggles to ever really find a central thread to truly tug its audience comfortably from start-to-finish. The narrative twists and turns so much that one wonders if the screenwriters were deliberately throwing more into it just because they could, perhaps worrying that its slowly simmering pace would work against an audience hanging around for the finish. Like the aforementioned The Thing From Another World and more so with The Thing, there’s an attempt to pit these folks against one another, but it falls flat mostly because it’s entirely contrived in the moment instead of slowly stepping toward this natural development. Also, there’s no fundamentally clear explanation for who the alien race is – they do show up, I believe, but I’m really at a loss to understand exactly why they did or why they do what they do – nor is it clearly plotted out what their central goal was in the last reel. What some might see as a conclusion I saw as yet one more bit of spaghetti thrown at the wall in hopes that something might stick.
Alien Hunter (2003) was produced by Millennium Films and Sandstorm Films. The film shows presently available for physical or digital purchase via Amazon.com, but readers are always encouraged to check out their own avenues if they’re looking to spend some hard-earned cash. As for the technical specifications? Well, while I’m no trained video expert, I really was a bit underwhelmed with the flick: the effects are fairly ineffective (the creature effects are quite good, but they’re in very short supply), and there’s very little novelty to any of the cinematography. In fact, there are a few sequences early on that look incredibly poor. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, I viewed this one via streaming, so there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … Barely Recommended.
With Alien Hunter (2003), I kept struggling with the central issue of just what audience this mild SciFi/Thriller thought it was meant to achieve: casual viewers or die-hard Science Fiction enthusiasts. Sadly, I suspect neither will come away with any sense of contentment. Cardone and Davidson’s script really goes nowhere, never developing a sense of tension around the rather obvious discovery of extraterrestrial technology and an involved lifeform nor giving its characters all that much to do than stand around and try to look engaged with one another or the overdone premise. The ending reminds me of something James Cameron once did (FYI: I didn’t like it then, either), leaving the door wide open for either a follow-up installment (which never came) or what audience was still watching to try to figure out what came next all by their lonesome. A real mess of a picture.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Alien Hunter (2003) as I watched it via my very own Amazon Prime Video subscription.
-- EZ
Second, screenwriters J.S. Cardone and Boaz Davidson felt it was apparently necessary to craft some scenes of Rome doing his teaching thing at the university. Some might conclude that this was intended to be character development; and – to a small degree – that’s entirely possible as viewers learn not once but twice that the man has a penchant for entertaining coeds privately. However, the educator’s character flaws comes up a third time – once he’s arrived at the distant base – in a spot where it feels vastly more relevant because it links him to another key researcher – Kate Brecher (Janine Eser) – he joins on this mission. Yet because the script felt it necessary to keep reminding us over so short a time of Rome’s dalliances – rest assured, it comes up again – the man now seems like less of an expert and more of an unprincipled womanizer. When the bloom is this far off the rose, it becomes harder and harder to see ‘our hero’ as ‘our hero.’
Lastly, Hunter struggles to ever really find a central thread to truly tug its audience comfortably from start-to-finish. The narrative twists and turns so much that one wonders if the screenwriters were deliberately throwing more into it just because they could, perhaps worrying that its slowly simmering pace would work against an audience hanging around for the finish. Like the aforementioned The Thing From Another World and more so with The Thing, there’s an attempt to pit these folks against one another, but it falls flat mostly because it’s entirely contrived in the moment instead of slowly stepping toward this natural development. Also, there’s no fundamentally clear explanation for who the alien race is – they do show up, I believe, but I’m really at a loss to understand exactly why they did or why they do what they do – nor is it clearly plotted out what their central goal was in the last reel. What some might see as a conclusion I saw as yet one more bit of spaghetti thrown at the wall in hopes that something might stick.
Alien Hunter (2003) was produced by Millennium Films and Sandstorm Films. The film shows presently available for physical or digital purchase via Amazon.com, but readers are always encouraged to check out their own avenues if they’re looking to spend some hard-earned cash. As for the technical specifications? Well, while I’m no trained video expert, I really was a bit underwhelmed with the flick: the effects are fairly ineffective (the creature effects are quite good, but they’re in very short supply), and there’s very little novelty to any of the cinematography. In fact, there are a few sequences early on that look incredibly poor. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, I viewed this one via streaming, so there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … Barely Recommended.
With Alien Hunter (2003), I kept struggling with the central issue of just what audience this mild SciFi/Thriller thought it was meant to achieve: casual viewers or die-hard Science Fiction enthusiasts. Sadly, I suspect neither will come away with any sense of contentment. Cardone and Davidson’s script really goes nowhere, never developing a sense of tension around the rather obvious discovery of extraterrestrial technology and an involved lifeform nor giving its characters all that much to do than stand around and try to look engaged with one another or the overdone premise. The ending reminds me of something James Cameron once did (FYI: I didn’t like it then, either), leaving the door wide open for either a follow-up installment (which never came) or what audience was still watching to try to figure out what came next all by their lonesome. A real mess of a picture.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Alien Hunter (2003) as I watched it via my very own Amazon Prime Video subscription.
-- EZ
- Published on
Horror Romantic Comedy THE ZOMBIE WEDDING
The First Film from Weekly World News Studios
End of the World Love Story Debuts on VOD
and Select Screens September 13
The First Film from Weekly World News Studios
End of the World Love Story Debuts on VOD
and Select Screens September 13
Los Angeles, CA--Freestyle Digital Media is excited to walk down the aisle with Weekly World News for the day and date release of the zomcom romantic comedy The Zombie Wedding. The Zombie Wedding debuts on Cable and Digital VOD September 13, 2024, including Apple TV, Amazon, Google Play, Fandango At Home, Comcast, Dish, and DirecTV. The Zombie Wedding will also be available in select markets theatrically.
The Zombie Wedding is based on the eponymous interactive play and is the first title to launch the Weekly World News IP-driven studio slate of movie projects. Head down the aisle with a large ensemble cast that includes Cheri Oteri ("Saturday Night Live"), Seth Gilliam ("The Walking Dead"), Heather Matarazzo (Scream, The Princess Diaries), Kevin Chamberlin ("Jessie"), Siobhan Fallon Hogan (Men in Black), Vincent Pastore ("The Sopranos"), Ajay Naidu (Office Space), Micky Dolenz of The Monkees, and more!
Written by Greg D’Alessandro, The Zombie Wedding was directed by Micah Khan and produced by D’Alessandro, Joe Corcoran, Sue Wolf, Maria Capp and Jeff Mazzola. Executive Producers include Robert Dragotta, John Harris, John Fahy, J. Todd Harris, Jijo Reed, and Grace Lovret.
A young New Jersey couple decides to go through with their wedding – during the Zombie Apocalypse. Unfortunately, the groom is a zombie and the bride is a human. Both families are nervous for the big day, but it’s the judgmental humans who make the event even more challenging. During the ceremony the Zombies begin feeling brain deprived and the wedding takes a turn for the weird. Weekly World News reporters do their best to cover this wild Jersey wedding - while trying to stay alive!
- Published on
A Shocking Serial Killer Horror for the Current Age
Utopia's Acclaimed True-Crime Thriller RED ROOMS
Opens Next Week in Select Theaters
Utopia's Acclaimed True-Crime Thriller RED ROOMS
Opens Next Week in Select Theaters
Named after the highly disputed violent dark web spaces known as red rooms in online urban legends, RED ROOMS was inspired by the fans who inexplicably flock to serial killers throughout modern history and further motivated by the current state of cybersecurity and tech crimes. The film not only succeeds as one of the most chilling entries to the serial killer genre from the last decade —despite never revealing any of the explicit images that the film’s characters are forced to witness— with Plante creating a fictional killer that is a devastating product of our time, but excels as a cinematic portrayal of how modern civilization engages with technology while holding a mirror up to the loneliness and isolation that exists within the dark side of present-day society.
RED ROOMS is Montreal filmmaker Pascal Plante’s third narrative feature, following the 2020 Cannes Film Festival selection NADIA, BUTTERFLY and 2018 Berlinale selection FAKE TATTOOS. The film features captivating performances from its three leads; Quebec actors Juliette Gariépy (Home Turf) and Laurie Babin (THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WAS TOO FOND OF MATCHES) alongside Maxwell McCabe-Lokos, the Canadian actor and filmmaker best known as the writer/director of Oscilloscope’s 2022 comedy STANLEYVILLE.
RED ROOMS is produced by Dominique Dussault for Nemesis Films. Cinematographer Vincent Biron (THE TWENTIETH CENTURY) artfully lensed the feature, Laura Nhem (THE TWENTIETH CENTURY) was production designer, and Jonah Malak edited.
Official Selection: Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, Fantasia International Film Festival (Opening Night), Calgary International Film Festival, Vancouver International Film Festival, Busan International Film Festival, Hamptons International Film Festival, BFI London Film Festival, Sitges International Fantastic Film Festival of Catalonia, Brooklyn Horror Film Festival, Philadelphia Film Festival, Thessaloniki International Film Festival, Fantasy Filmfest, Miami Film Festival, Atlanta Film Festival, Monster Fest.
Awards: Fantasia International Film Festival: Cheval Noir, Outstanding Performance (Juliette Gariépy); Cheval Noir, Best Screenplay; Cheval Noir, Best Film; Sandro Forte Award, Best Motion Picture Score (Dominique Plante). Monster Fest: Best International Movie. Brooklyn Horror Film Festival: Festival Prize, Best Feature; Best Actress (Juliette Gariépy). Le Gala Quebec Cinema: Prix Iris, Revelation of the Year (Juliette Gariépy); Prix Iris, Best Supporting Actress (Laurie Babin).
Synopsis:
Kelly-Anne wakes up every morning to wait outside the courtroom to secure a seat at the high-profile trial of Ludovic Chevalier, a man charged with the murder of three teenage girls, with the gruesome videos of two of the crimes surfacing for sale online on the dark web. She finds herself bonding with a fellow voyeur, momentarily breaking her out of her loneliness, while also witnessing the emotional decline of the victims’ families. As the proceedings continue, it becomes increasingly difficult for Kelly-Anne to maintain the psychological and physical balance between her normal life and her morbid fixation with the accused killer, with her obsession reaching new lengths when the final piece of evidence reveals itself within reach.
ABOUT UTOPIA
Utopia is a New York and Los Angeles based film distribution and sales company co-founded by filmmaker Robert Schwartzman and Cole Harper. Focused on showcasing truly independent features and documentaries while supporting the next wave of filmmakers and audience discovery, recent Utopia releases include Sean Price Williams’ acclaimed debut feature The Sweet East, Eddie Alcazar and EP Steven Soderbergh’s Divinity, Kristoffer Borgli’s acclaimed dark comedy Sick of Myself, Ali Abbasi’s Oscar shortlisted and Cannes winner Holy Spider, Meet Me in the Bathroom chronicling the early days of LCD Soundsystem, The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and more. Other Utopia releases include the cult-BMX classic and event-theatrical hit Rad; Sundance breakout and Gotham Awards-nominated We're All Going to the World's Fair by Jane Schoenbrun; Gaspar Noe's Cannes-lauded Vortex starring Dario Argento; the Indie Spirit-winner Shiva Baby by Emma Seligman and more.
Kelly-Anne wakes up every morning to wait outside the courtroom to secure a seat at the high-profile trial of Ludovic Chevalier, a man charged with the murder of three teenage girls, with the gruesome videos of two of the crimes surfacing for sale online on the dark web. She finds herself bonding with a fellow voyeur, momentarily breaking her out of her loneliness, while also witnessing the emotional decline of the victims’ families. As the proceedings continue, it becomes increasingly difficult for Kelly-Anne to maintain the psychological and physical balance between her normal life and her morbid fixation with the accused killer, with her obsession reaching new lengths when the final piece of evidence reveals itself within reach.
ABOUT UTOPIA
Utopia is a New York and Los Angeles based film distribution and sales company co-founded by filmmaker Robert Schwartzman and Cole Harper. Focused on showcasing truly independent features and documentaries while supporting the next wave of filmmakers and audience discovery, recent Utopia releases include Sean Price Williams’ acclaimed debut feature The Sweet East, Eddie Alcazar and EP Steven Soderbergh’s Divinity, Kristoffer Borgli’s acclaimed dark comedy Sick of Myself, Ali Abbasi’s Oscar shortlisted and Cannes winner Holy Spider, Meet Me in the Bathroom chronicling the early days of LCD Soundsystem, The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and more. Other Utopia releases include the cult-BMX classic and event-theatrical hit Rad; Sundance breakout and Gotham Awards-nominated We're All Going to the World's Fair by Jane Schoenbrun; Gaspar Noe's Cannes-lauded Vortex starring Dario Argento; the Indie Spirit-winner Shiva Baby by Emma Seligman and more.
- Published on
Even today, Hollywood maintains a dubious love/hate relationship with superheroes.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Yes, the suits behind these production companies are only too happy to wring every dime of profit possible out of ticket sales when it comes to DC, Marvel, and other graphic-based intellectual properties; but rest assured that if you do any amount of serious reading into behind-the-scenes shenanigans – i.e. suggestions made by studio executives to changes they feel would better serve a story – you might think otherwise. Batman without his signature cape and cowl? Yep. That was suggested. When is Superman going back to visit Krypton in a future movie? Yep. That was intended as well. Can we have Spider-Man swinging about less? Believe it or not, that input was supplied as advice, too. If anything, this and other examples just go to show that not every effort gets spearheaded by the right creatives, and perhaps these forays into the worlds of spandex are really best left in the hands of those who capably demonstrate they understand the respective mythologies. Isn’t that what fans would ultimately want?
Going back even further into our cultural past can be even riskier. While champions like Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and The Flash have been around for decades and continued to grow their fan bases, others like Hugo Hercules, Chandu The Magician, Dick Tracy, or The Shadow have languished in obscurity or been given limited expression in the marketplace with sub-par representations that felt more like fan fiction than authentic interpretations. While a theatrical outing here and there might’ve been met with modest clamor, these pictures never truly demonstrated the potential behind these heroes of old; and these masked (or not) do-gooders found themselves shelved yet again even though fandoms rarely balk at the chance to watch good triumph over evil again.
Such was the case with 1996’s The Phantom. While I’ll admit that I’m not as up on The Ghost Who Walks’ mythology as I am those of Batman, Superman, or The Shadow (my three personal favorites, if you’re wondering), I had enough passing familiarity with the property to know that, theatrically, it had fabulous potential. Directed by Simon Wincer (1980’s Harlequin and 1985’s D.A.R.Y.L.), Phantom’s script was penned by Jeffrey Boam (1983’s The Dead Zone and 1989’s Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade); and the film cast Billy Zane in the lead role alongside such supporting players as Kristy Swanson, Treat Williams, Catharine Zeta-Jones, and James Remar. Tonally, the feature works largely as a nostalgic throwback to the days when screen adventures were really for audiences of all ages; but, sadly, this one-off affair wasn’t enough to guarantee the costumed crimefighter a return visit to the multiplexes.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Yes, the suits behind these production companies are only too happy to wring every dime of profit possible out of ticket sales when it comes to DC, Marvel, and other graphic-based intellectual properties; but rest assured that if you do any amount of serious reading into behind-the-scenes shenanigans – i.e. suggestions made by studio executives to changes they feel would better serve a story – you might think otherwise. Batman without his signature cape and cowl? Yep. That was suggested. When is Superman going back to visit Krypton in a future movie? Yep. That was intended as well. Can we have Spider-Man swinging about less? Believe it or not, that input was supplied as advice, too. If anything, this and other examples just go to show that not every effort gets spearheaded by the right creatives, and perhaps these forays into the worlds of spandex are really best left in the hands of those who capably demonstrate they understand the respective mythologies. Isn’t that what fans would ultimately want?
Going back even further into our cultural past can be even riskier. While champions like Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and The Flash have been around for decades and continued to grow their fan bases, others like Hugo Hercules, Chandu The Magician, Dick Tracy, or The Shadow have languished in obscurity or been given limited expression in the marketplace with sub-par representations that felt more like fan fiction than authentic interpretations. While a theatrical outing here and there might’ve been met with modest clamor, these pictures never truly demonstrated the potential behind these heroes of old; and these masked (or not) do-gooders found themselves shelved yet again even though fandoms rarely balk at the chance to watch good triumph over evil again.
Such was the case with 1996’s The Phantom. While I’ll admit that I’m not as up on The Ghost Who Walks’ mythology as I am those of Batman, Superman, or The Shadow (my three personal favorites, if you’re wondering), I had enough passing familiarity with the property to know that, theatrically, it had fabulous potential. Directed by Simon Wincer (1980’s Harlequin and 1985’s D.A.R.Y.L.), Phantom’s script was penned by Jeffrey Boam (1983’s The Dead Zone and 1989’s Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade); and the film cast Billy Zane in the lead role alongside such supporting players as Kristy Swanson, Treat Williams, Catharine Zeta-Jones, and James Remar. Tonally, the feature works largely as a nostalgic throwback to the days when screen adventures were really for audiences of all ages; but, sadly, this one-off affair wasn’t enough to guarantee the costumed crimefighter a return visit to the multiplexes.
(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 page citation:
“The Phantom, descendent of a line of African superheroes, travels to New York City to thwart a wealthy criminal genius from obtaining three magic skulls which would give him the secret to ultimate power.”
Folks, I can specifically recall being somewhat totally geeked out with anticipation back in the days when I learned that The Phantom was coming to the silver screen.
You see, I grew up a huge fan of pulp properties; and having just been so horrifically disappointed with how badly director Russell Mulcahy and actor Alec Baldwin (of all people) had theatrically butchered The Shadow in 1994, I hoped that The Phantom might serve as a return to form for heroes that had largely vanished from the zeitgeist. Having also amicably sat through such marginal attempts to reinvigorate cinemas to the dynamism of the 1930’s with Dick Tracy (1990) and The Rocketeer (1991), I really, really, really wanted this attempt to produce something special. The theatrical trailer for the forthcoming release had the right look; all that was needed now was a story big enough to catapult this purple-clad adventurer with his blazing .45’s and his skull-bearing belt into our collective consciousness, and I would be one happy camper.
Sigh.
As I often counsel readers, it ain’t always easy being a fan of our respective pursuits because so many folks who work in or around the entertainment industry just don’t see things the way we do. When there are volumes upon volumes of source material that can effectively be drawn upon to craft a winning adventure, these movers and shakers would instead pick-and-choose the elements they desire to spin their own interpretation even if it bears little resemblance to the original tales. In other words, putting any Tom, Dick, or Harry under the cowl and giving him a souped-up street racer is good enough to convince most moviegoers that he’s Batman … but actor Billy Zane’s turn as The Phantom was little more than a celebrity lookalike for writer Lee Falk’s original Kit Walker – aka ‘The Man Who Cannot Die.’
Having done a bit of research into the making of the film, I’m well aware that screenwriter Boam had originally intended his draft to be a superhero spoof and not one more notch in cultural utility belt. 1989’s Batman had pierced the veil (as they say), and truly lit a fire amongst studio executives to the gold mine that was action/adventure material; so the resulting trend brought about a respectable number of knock-offs and/or subsidiaries. Why not jump into that bedlam right away and go in a vastly more comic direction? Whether or not Boam drew inspiration from that Tim Burton project or not I’ve never established, but it’s clear to see some baseline similarities between the two efforts. However, somewhere between the script’s finish and a change in the director’s seat (Joe Dante left and Simon Wincer came in) it’s very clear that this version of The Phantom wasn’t so much comical as it was intellectually vapid.
In fact, The Phantom opens with little more than a typeset shot that reads “For those who came in late …”
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“The Phantom, descendent of a line of African superheroes, travels to New York City to thwart a wealthy criminal genius from obtaining three magic skulls which would give him the secret to ultimate power.”
Folks, I can specifically recall being somewhat totally geeked out with anticipation back in the days when I learned that The Phantom was coming to the silver screen.
You see, I grew up a huge fan of pulp properties; and having just been so horrifically disappointed with how badly director Russell Mulcahy and actor Alec Baldwin (of all people) had theatrically butchered The Shadow in 1994, I hoped that The Phantom might serve as a return to form for heroes that had largely vanished from the zeitgeist. Having also amicably sat through such marginal attempts to reinvigorate cinemas to the dynamism of the 1930’s with Dick Tracy (1990) and The Rocketeer (1991), I really, really, really wanted this attempt to produce something special. The theatrical trailer for the forthcoming release had the right look; all that was needed now was a story big enough to catapult this purple-clad adventurer with his blazing .45’s and his skull-bearing belt into our collective consciousness, and I would be one happy camper.
Sigh.
As I often counsel readers, it ain’t always easy being a fan of our respective pursuits because so many folks who work in or around the entertainment industry just don’t see things the way we do. When there are volumes upon volumes of source material that can effectively be drawn upon to craft a winning adventure, these movers and shakers would instead pick-and-choose the elements they desire to spin their own interpretation even if it bears little resemblance to the original tales. In other words, putting any Tom, Dick, or Harry under the cowl and giving him a souped-up street racer is good enough to convince most moviegoers that he’s Batman … but actor Billy Zane’s turn as The Phantom was little more than a celebrity lookalike for writer Lee Falk’s original Kit Walker – aka ‘The Man Who Cannot Die.’
Having done a bit of research into the making of the film, I’m well aware that screenwriter Boam had originally intended his draft to be a superhero spoof and not one more notch in cultural utility belt. 1989’s Batman had pierced the veil (as they say), and truly lit a fire amongst studio executives to the gold mine that was action/adventure material; so the resulting trend brought about a respectable number of knock-offs and/or subsidiaries. Why not jump into that bedlam right away and go in a vastly more comic direction? Whether or not Boam drew inspiration from that Tim Burton project or not I’ve never established, but it’s clear to see some baseline similarities between the two efforts. However, somewhere between the script’s finish and a change in the director’s seat (Joe Dante left and Simon Wincer came in) it’s very clear that this version of The Phantom wasn’t so much comical as it was intellectually vapid.
In fact, The Phantom opens with little more than a typeset shot that reads “For those who came in late …”
Now, I hate to harp on first shots because – let’s face it – they’re little more than narrative hooks, but such a banal set-up kinda/sorta implies that there’s more to that story but we’re choosing to begin it right here. Who came in late? Why were they not on time? Did what happened before this not matter? Are you openly mocking the audience? To what end? The list of questions only grows longer the more one thinks about why any intelligent person would begin a superhero movie with this opening; and I’m not sure the picture ever really recovers. Granted, what follows is a very, very, very quick hint at an origin story, and yet there’s still no escaping the loose parody implied from that first placard.
Rather quickly, the film turns into what starts to look like a copy of 1980’s vastly superior Raiders Of The Lost Ark – not surprisingly, perhaps, given Boam’s involvement with 1989’s Last Crusade – with screen veteran James Remar filling the shoes as a kinda/sorta villainous Indy knock-off known only as Quill. Apparently, he’s been traveling the world raiding tombs all in pursuit of archaeological relics being sought by his employer Xander Drax (Treat Williams) and Sengh Brotherhood, a rather nebulous group of sea pirates tied to the original Phantom’s origin story. (For those who came in late, The Phantom appears to be immortal because successive incarnations are little more than the adult offspring of the man who served under the mask previously.) Eventually, the tombs appear, and they’re looted predictably, all of which sets this Phantom hot on the heels of Quill and his associates.
What gives this opening caper the narrative depth to propel an entire motion picture is that among the stolen treasure Quill finds one of the Skulls of Touganda. History says that – like Raiders’ Ark Of The Covenant – an army that can find and join the three (or is it four) skulls together will be invincible; and this through-line pushes both The Phantom and his Bruce-Wayne-like counterpart – Kit Walker – to pursue Quill and company back to New York City after their business is concluded in the Bengalla Jungle. Naturally, there’s a fair amount of derring-do that takes place in the Big Apple, including the introduction of Drax and the loose realization that he’s little more than your routine capitalist with a thirst for global domination though we’re never quite given any legitimate reason why. (FYI: Hollywood hates capitalists, don’t you know?)
Sadly, the resulting story never really rises above the level of feeling as if it was intended as anything greater than being an excuse to string its separate action sequences into one convoluted whole. Characters have no depth – Williams does what he can to supply the big villain with the charisma to chew scenery with dialogue no more memorable than the words on that opening placard, and Swanson tries to muster the same level of pluckiness that made her at least watchable in Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1992). The sequences – while theatrically pretty – spool out in pretty much the way everyone expects. Even the effects – reasonably quaint by early 1990’s standards – have the look of being throwbacks to what the studios were doing a decade or two earlier, so where’s all the excitement for a new superhero when this has been done before? Why, it’s almost like this was all meant to be parody … only it’s (allegedly) not.
As for The Phantom’s blazing .45’s?
Well, under Wincer’s adequate direction, The Phantom is the kind of motion picture where the hero only uses his weapons to shoot the gun out of his opponents’ hands.
Rather quickly, the film turns into what starts to look like a copy of 1980’s vastly superior Raiders Of The Lost Ark – not surprisingly, perhaps, given Boam’s involvement with 1989’s Last Crusade – with screen veteran James Remar filling the shoes as a kinda/sorta villainous Indy knock-off known only as Quill. Apparently, he’s been traveling the world raiding tombs all in pursuit of archaeological relics being sought by his employer Xander Drax (Treat Williams) and Sengh Brotherhood, a rather nebulous group of sea pirates tied to the original Phantom’s origin story. (For those who came in late, The Phantom appears to be immortal because successive incarnations are little more than the adult offspring of the man who served under the mask previously.) Eventually, the tombs appear, and they’re looted predictably, all of which sets this Phantom hot on the heels of Quill and his associates.
What gives this opening caper the narrative depth to propel an entire motion picture is that among the stolen treasure Quill finds one of the Skulls of Touganda. History says that – like Raiders’ Ark Of The Covenant – an army that can find and join the three (or is it four) skulls together will be invincible; and this through-line pushes both The Phantom and his Bruce-Wayne-like counterpart – Kit Walker – to pursue Quill and company back to New York City after their business is concluded in the Bengalla Jungle. Naturally, there’s a fair amount of derring-do that takes place in the Big Apple, including the introduction of Drax and the loose realization that he’s little more than your routine capitalist with a thirst for global domination though we’re never quite given any legitimate reason why. (FYI: Hollywood hates capitalists, don’t you know?)
Sadly, the resulting story never really rises above the level of feeling as if it was intended as anything greater than being an excuse to string its separate action sequences into one convoluted whole. Characters have no depth – Williams does what he can to supply the big villain with the charisma to chew scenery with dialogue no more memorable than the words on that opening placard, and Swanson tries to muster the same level of pluckiness that made her at least watchable in Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1992). The sequences – while theatrically pretty – spool out in pretty much the way everyone expects. Even the effects – reasonably quaint by early 1990’s standards – have the look of being throwbacks to what the studios were doing a decade or two earlier, so where’s all the excitement for a new superhero when this has been done before? Why, it’s almost like this was all meant to be parody … only it’s (allegedly) not.
As for The Phantom’s blazing .45’s?
Well, under Wincer’s adequate direction, The Phantom is the kind of motion picture where the hero only uses his weapons to shoot the gun out of his opponents’ hands.
At best, what emerges from this outing is little more than a bloated kid’s movie, something that feels like the kind of thing studios were attempting before 1989’s Batman brought a measure of Gothic-feel and borderline psychological menace to the party. When setting the escapade in the 1930’s was – so far as I’m concerned – the kind of sheer genius that could’ve propelled the property to the same kind of aesthetics developed and exploited so (damn) well in the Indiana Jones franchise, this Phantom dumbs down its tenor in pursuit of small moments instead of big ones. While its occasional campiness works, Wincer and Boam relied too heavily on delivering cartoonish simplicity to the whole affair. Even the luminous Zeta-Jones is wasted – as is the reliable Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa as ‘The Great Kabai Sengh’ – is such a cardboard construction.
The Phantom (1996) was produced by Paramount Pictures, The Ladd Company, Boam Productions, Robert Evans Company, and Village Roadshow Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Paramount Pictures. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the provided sights and sounds were very good from start-to-finish: this would look to be sourced from the original release, and I do not believe that there has been any rescanning or updates to the source material. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, you have only an obligatory theatrical trailer to look forward to.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Yes, I’ll admit decades later to being so hugely disappointed by The Phantom (1996) that I really haven’t given the property so much as a second thought. While its setting had promise and its cast had talent, the resulting film is one of those opportunities that exists to be studied as how could so many positive attributes wind up being misused in the process? Perhaps a team that truly loved the character could've done better than begin with a script meant to lampoon him, but what do I know? Like The Shadow and The Rocketeer and Dick Tracy, I’m still holding out hope for big screen iterations that show audiences what’s possible when the magic happens … and, yet, at this late date in my life, I’ve come to peace with the fact that this may be the best those properties ever get.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary DVD of The Phantom (1996) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
The Phantom (1996) was produced by Paramount Pictures, The Ladd Company, Boam Productions, Robert Evans Company, and Village Roadshow Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Paramount Pictures. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the provided sights and sounds were very good from start-to-finish: this would look to be sourced from the original release, and I do not believe that there has been any rescanning or updates to the source material. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, you have only an obligatory theatrical trailer to look forward to.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Yes, I’ll admit decades later to being so hugely disappointed by The Phantom (1996) that I really haven’t given the property so much as a second thought. While its setting had promise and its cast had talent, the resulting film is one of those opportunities that exists to be studied as how could so many positive attributes wind up being misused in the process? Perhaps a team that truly loved the character could've done better than begin with a script meant to lampoon him, but what do I know? Like The Shadow and The Rocketeer and Dick Tracy, I’m still holding out hope for big screen iterations that show audiences what’s possible when the magic happens … and, yet, at this late date in my life, I’ve come to peace with the fact that this may be the best those properties ever get.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary DVD of The Phantom (1996) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ