- Published on
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So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1982 (in France), The Clairvoyant prognosticated its financial future with its very first theatrical release. Written (in part) and directed by Armand Mastroianni, the film starred Perry King, Norman Parker, Elizabeth Kemp, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Two uneasy friends, a police officer and a TV talk show host, each pursue the mysterious "handcuff killer" with the aid of an artist who sees - and draws - the killer's crimes before they're committed."
-- EZ
On this day in 1982 (in France), The Clairvoyant prognosticated its financial future with its very first theatrical release. Written (in part) and directed by Armand Mastroianni, the film starred Perry King, Norman Parker, Elizabeth Kemp, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Two uneasy friends, a police officer and a TV talk show host, each pursue the mysterious "handcuff killer" with the aid of an artist who sees - and draws - the killer's crimes before they're committed."
-- EZ
- Published on
Most SciFiHistory.Net readers are too young to appreciate the birth of the big screen Fantasy film that took place in the 1980’s.
While it doesn’t get the recognition it deserves, John Boorman’s Excalibur (1981) largely paved the way for studios both looking for and investing in the genre. An Academy Award nominated talent, Boorman was only one of the first truly big names to consider adapting something a bit dark and a bit whimsical for audiences; and his respectably faithful interpretation of the Arthurian legend truly is owed a resurgence in popularity at some point. But there was more at the cineplexes – a great deal more – that followed in the wake, some of which also hasn’t quite been granted the recognition they were due and maybe still are. Flicks like Dragonslayer (1981), Conan The Barbarian (1982), The Dark Crystal (1982), The Beastmaster (1982), Labyrinth (1986), and Highlander (1986) definitely kept the door open waiting for audiences to show up and return in record numbers. The truth is that never really happened, and the latter half of the decade forced studio bean counters to shrink the dollars spent as a consequence to bring a smaller wave of these mildly lavish productions to theatrical life.
Undoubtedly, this is only one small part of why something like Gor (1987) – a theatrical incarnation of the already somewhat controversial John Norman series of novels – pretty much entered the ballpark with three strikes against it. Sword and sorcery tales were never big at the box office, and Norman’s novels of one man’s epic struggle to bridge the divide between Earth and the planet Gor were more known for the depiction of really, really, really Alpha Males dominating women in almost every conceivable way. Society of the time wasn’t quite interesting in embracing anything that depicted the female of our species inferior or subservient in any way, despite the fact that the source material was written at a time when not much of this would rile anyone up because it was considered men’s fiction with Edgar Rice Burroughs, Robert E. Howard, or even H. Rider Haggard. Like it or not, women had come a long way, baby; so critics and audiences weren’t likely to embrace this outing in any substantial way.
Directed by Fritz Kiersch – whose only previous genre entry was his debut effort in bringing Stephen King’s Children Of The Corn (1984) to screens in a mostly lukewarm fashion – the script was conceived from the Norman novels by Rick Marx and Harry Alan Towers. To his credit, Towers had a long track record in both film and television; and his involvement in bringing another equally controversial pulp property to theaters – Fu Manchu – may have given the project the clout it needed to draw studio attention. Having seen a few of those efforts, however, I’d much more likely insisted that, at best, Gor was destined for cult status alone if even drawing any positive response whatsoever. The film starred Urbano Barberini, former Playboy Playmate Rebecca Ferratti, Oliver Reed, Graham Clarke, and Jack Palance (in a brief role which only served to set up the sequel).
Buckle up, kids. This one might get ugly.
While it doesn’t get the recognition it deserves, John Boorman’s Excalibur (1981) largely paved the way for studios both looking for and investing in the genre. An Academy Award nominated talent, Boorman was only one of the first truly big names to consider adapting something a bit dark and a bit whimsical for audiences; and his respectably faithful interpretation of the Arthurian legend truly is owed a resurgence in popularity at some point. But there was more at the cineplexes – a great deal more – that followed in the wake, some of which also hasn’t quite been granted the recognition they were due and maybe still are. Flicks like Dragonslayer (1981), Conan The Barbarian (1982), The Dark Crystal (1982), The Beastmaster (1982), Labyrinth (1986), and Highlander (1986) definitely kept the door open waiting for audiences to show up and return in record numbers. The truth is that never really happened, and the latter half of the decade forced studio bean counters to shrink the dollars spent as a consequence to bring a smaller wave of these mildly lavish productions to theatrical life.
Undoubtedly, this is only one small part of why something like Gor (1987) – a theatrical incarnation of the already somewhat controversial John Norman series of novels – pretty much entered the ballpark with three strikes against it. Sword and sorcery tales were never big at the box office, and Norman’s novels of one man’s epic struggle to bridge the divide between Earth and the planet Gor were more known for the depiction of really, really, really Alpha Males dominating women in almost every conceivable way. Society of the time wasn’t quite interesting in embracing anything that depicted the female of our species inferior or subservient in any way, despite the fact that the source material was written at a time when not much of this would rile anyone up because it was considered men’s fiction with Edgar Rice Burroughs, Robert E. Howard, or even H. Rider Haggard. Like it or not, women had come a long way, baby; so critics and audiences weren’t likely to embrace this outing in any substantial way.
Directed by Fritz Kiersch – whose only previous genre entry was his debut effort in bringing Stephen King’s Children Of The Corn (1984) to screens in a mostly lukewarm fashion – the script was conceived from the Norman novels by Rick Marx and Harry Alan Towers. To his credit, Towers had a long track record in both film and television; and his involvement in bringing another equally controversial pulp property to theaters – Fu Manchu – may have given the project the clout it needed to draw studio attention. Having seen a few of those efforts, however, I’d much more likely insisted that, at best, Gor was destined for cult status alone if even drawing any positive response whatsoever. The film starred Urbano Barberini, former Playboy Playmate Rebecca Ferratti, Oliver Reed, Graham Clarke, and Jack Palance (in a brief role which only served to set up the sequel).
Buckle up, kids. This one might get ugly.
(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:
“American professor Tarl Cabot is transported via a magical ring to planet Gor, where he must help an oppressed country overthrow its evil king and his barbarian henchmen.”
As happened far too often back in the day, there was very little information published about the making of Gor. So far as the Information Superhighway is concerned, the flick was a something-something that came to life without a great deal of demand, enjoyed a premiere at the oft-praised Cannes Film Festival in 1987 (May 9th of that year), and then pretty much vanished. There is some reportage suggesting that Cannon Films – the maker – was interested in giving it a theatrical run allegedly scheduled for September; but IMDB.com reports that it didn’t see screens in the U.S. until February of 1988 and – even then – it was a limited release, meaning it was probably dumped into a handful of locations.
As explained above, it’s easy to assume that a great deal of its disappearance is owed to the source material’s scandalous treatment of women; but the truth remains that Gor – as a whole – is largely dreadful on all counts. Of all the listed screen talent, only the legendary Oliver Reed – as the villainous Sarm – seemed to be artistically ‘in sync’ with what the script required, constantly gesturing about theatrically and obviously hamming it up for the cameras; and the production details – while occasionally quaint – never amount to much more than draperies and loincloths distributed liberally amongst the sweaty lot. A few of the sets look curiously better than the film deserves, so it’s good to remain thankful for small favors when you see them as diamonds in the rough.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“American professor Tarl Cabot is transported via a magical ring to planet Gor, where he must help an oppressed country overthrow its evil king and his barbarian henchmen.”
As happened far too often back in the day, there was very little information published about the making of Gor. So far as the Information Superhighway is concerned, the flick was a something-something that came to life without a great deal of demand, enjoyed a premiere at the oft-praised Cannes Film Festival in 1987 (May 9th of that year), and then pretty much vanished. There is some reportage suggesting that Cannon Films – the maker – was interested in giving it a theatrical run allegedly scheduled for September; but IMDB.com reports that it didn’t see screens in the U.S. until February of 1988 and – even then – it was a limited release, meaning it was probably dumped into a handful of locations.
As explained above, it’s easy to assume that a great deal of its disappearance is owed to the source material’s scandalous treatment of women; but the truth remains that Gor – as a whole – is largely dreadful on all counts. Of all the listed screen talent, only the legendary Oliver Reed – as the villainous Sarm – seemed to be artistically ‘in sync’ with what the script required, constantly gesturing about theatrically and obviously hamming it up for the cameras; and the production details – while occasionally quaint – never amount to much more than draperies and loincloths distributed liberally amongst the sweaty lot. A few of the sets look curiously better than the film deserves, so it’s good to remain thankful for small favors when you see them as diamonds in the rough.
Professorial nerd Tarl Cabot (played by Urbano Barberini) wears a rather ugly familiar heirloom – a ceremonial ring with a curiously glowing stone (more like a rock than a true gem) – that, unbeknownst to him, opens a conduit between our world and the savage land of Gor. A place seemingly always in the throes of war between its various kingdoms, Cabot finds himself befriended by the kind people of Koroba, perhaps the only peaceniks in all the lands. Naturally, they’re willing to help the teacher get back home but that’s only if he’ll join them on a quest to recover the communal Home Stone, their cultural good luck charm and apparently the source of his ring’s secret power. With no other options available, Cabot enlists; and this means he’s going to have to be trained – albeit briefly – to be the warrior these Korobans need in the time of crisis.
Sadly, the script only flirts with the opening comic sensibilities of an Earth man thrown back into the Stone Ages. While Cabot gets in a few laughs that buoys some of these earlier moments, screenwriters Marx and Towers chuck out such tongue-in-cheekiness for what instead turns all too easily into a Conan The Wannabe. When they could’ve embraced the ‘fish out of water’ template that has given life to other Science Fiction and Fantasy franchises (i.e. TV’s Starman, Syfy’s Farscape, etc.), the scribes turned their backs on what works in favor of what needed to be swallowed by the audience with handfuls of salt to be accepted as even possible. In the rush, Cabot becomes the muscular heavy far too quickly, and he goes about the business of retaking the Home Stone with relative ease.
Making matters worse is the fact that – ahem – no one in the cast seems to be taking any of the noted jeopardy with any degree of seriousness. Sword fights and fisticuffs are particularly atrocious and even narratively unnecessary, a predicament that has Cabot’s kinda/sorta love interest Talena (Ferratti) being a formidable presence in one sequence while having her ass fairly easily handed to her in the next. Reo Ruiters is listed as the stunt coordinator (for this film and its sequel, Outlaw Of Gor); and the work here is so inept I’m curious if the man himself had ever even picked up a blade before shooting. No one looks even remotely comfortable with the weapons of choice, and I’ve seen better sparing in community theater.
Yes. It’s that bad.
As a quest story, Cabot and his band of adventurers don’t exactly rise to the level of participating in Star Wars’ often recognized ‘Hero’s Journey,’ but the trappings are still all there. Our lead has to become a better man – which he does – in order to granted passage to a way back home; so he undergoes several trials in the process to such a deliverance. Of course, he makes friends and enemies along the way; and he’ll need their assistance in order to eventually pick up the bow, knock an arrow, and take the shot that ends Sarm’s reign of terror. There’s no nuance here, but there’s plenty of sweat, wide camera angles of parched and dry lands, and tanned chest shots to otherwise fill that void. That has to count for something, no?
Sadly, the script only flirts with the opening comic sensibilities of an Earth man thrown back into the Stone Ages. While Cabot gets in a few laughs that buoys some of these earlier moments, screenwriters Marx and Towers chuck out such tongue-in-cheekiness for what instead turns all too easily into a Conan The Wannabe. When they could’ve embraced the ‘fish out of water’ template that has given life to other Science Fiction and Fantasy franchises (i.e. TV’s Starman, Syfy’s Farscape, etc.), the scribes turned their backs on what works in favor of what needed to be swallowed by the audience with handfuls of salt to be accepted as even possible. In the rush, Cabot becomes the muscular heavy far too quickly, and he goes about the business of retaking the Home Stone with relative ease.
Making matters worse is the fact that – ahem – no one in the cast seems to be taking any of the noted jeopardy with any degree of seriousness. Sword fights and fisticuffs are particularly atrocious and even narratively unnecessary, a predicament that has Cabot’s kinda/sorta love interest Talena (Ferratti) being a formidable presence in one sequence while having her ass fairly easily handed to her in the next. Reo Ruiters is listed as the stunt coordinator (for this film and its sequel, Outlaw Of Gor); and the work here is so inept I’m curious if the man himself had ever even picked up a blade before shooting. No one looks even remotely comfortable with the weapons of choice, and I’ve seen better sparing in community theater.
Yes. It’s that bad.
As a quest story, Cabot and his band of adventurers don’t exactly rise to the level of participating in Star Wars’ often recognized ‘Hero’s Journey,’ but the trappings are still all there. Our lead has to become a better man – which he does – in order to granted passage to a way back home; so he undergoes several trials in the process to such a deliverance. Of course, he makes friends and enemies along the way; and he’ll need their assistance in order to eventually pick up the bow, knock an arrow, and take the shot that ends Sarm’s reign of terror. There’s no nuance here, but there’s plenty of sweat, wide camera angles of parched and dry lands, and tanned chest shots to otherwise fill that void. That has to count for something, no?
About the best that can be said of something with its stars so misaligned is that because genre fans didn’t get a lot of fantastical fare consistently they’re apt to overlook a great deal of these deficiencies and simply have fun with it. Gor remains the type of feature that Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K) has taken steps to lampoon; and why not? When everything about the production is so sub-standard (and mind you that everything gets even worse in its sequel) then all one can do is embrace the lunacy for giggles. Whether one likes it or not, there’s still a hint of charm in some of this – small moments mostly reserved for Reed’s barking and Ferratti’s tempting visage – and that’s why it survives in small pockets to this day. It’s flawed. It’s flaws are (goddam) obvious. Hell, it even occasionally doesn't make sense ... like when Sarm does an about-face by turning away from wishing for Cabot's demise to suddenly an allegiance in the last reel. (???) Yet, people come.
Gor (1987) was produced by Cannon International and Cannon Films. Presently, the film shows available for digital rental or purchase on a variety of platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure you that – most definitely – Gor remains the type of flick needing a technical makeover as even the version I watched is a bit undercooked. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended but still appreciated for its camp sensibilities by this old soul.
Critics, academics, and the vast amount of your cultural betters will assure you that there’s no reason to both with Gor (1987), an otherwise forgettable bit of cinematic Fantasy that brings nothing unique much less technically accomplished to the table. While they may be right, I prefer to think of the motion picture as a glimpse back into another place and another time – much like its central character endured in its simplistic story – because it works perfectly fine just beneath the level of the traditional B-Movie. No, there are no good performances. Yes, it’s mostly laughable at every turn. Still, this was the kind of thing that one could put on the Boob Tube entirely for grins and giggles; and those projects are increasingly in short supply these days.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Gor (1987) as I viewed the feature entirely from a platform to which I subscribe.
-- EZ
Gor (1987) was produced by Cannon International and Cannon Films. Presently, the film shows available for digital rental or purchase on a variety of platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure you that – most definitely – Gor remains the type of flick needing a technical makeover as even the version I watched is a bit undercooked. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended but still appreciated for its camp sensibilities by this old soul.
Critics, academics, and the vast amount of your cultural betters will assure you that there’s no reason to both with Gor (1987), an otherwise forgettable bit of cinematic Fantasy that brings nothing unique much less technically accomplished to the table. While they may be right, I prefer to think of the motion picture as a glimpse back into another place and another time – much like its central character endured in its simplistic story – because it works perfectly fine just beneath the level of the traditional B-Movie. No, there are no good performances. Yes, it’s mostly laughable at every turn. Still, this was the kind of thing that one could put on the Boob Tube entirely for grins and giggles; and those projects are increasingly in short supply these days.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Gor (1987) as I viewed the feature entirely from a platform to which I subscribe.
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1962 (in the U.S.), the big city of Los Angeles, California enjoyed an exclusive theatrical premiere engagement of The Devil's Messenger. Directed by Herbert L. Strock and Curt Siodmak (who also contributed to the screenplay), the film starred Lon Chaney Jr. as 'Satan' alongside co-stars Karen Kadler, Michael Hinn, John Crawford, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Satan enlists the help of a suicide victim in Hell to lure unsuspecting earthly victims to their eternal doom. Contains three somewhat unrelated Twilight Zone-esque stories."
-- EZ
On this day in 1962 (in the U.S.), the big city of Los Angeles, California enjoyed an exclusive theatrical premiere engagement of The Devil's Messenger. Directed by Herbert L. Strock and Curt Siodmak (who also contributed to the screenplay), the film starred Lon Chaney Jr. as 'Satan' alongside co-stars Karen Kadler, Michael Hinn, John Crawford, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Satan enlists the help of a suicide victim in Hell to lure unsuspecting earthly victims to their eternal doom. Contains three somewhat unrelated Twilight Zone-esque stories."
-- EZ
- Published on
Well, well, well …
It was the summer of 1981, and I – growing up in small town America – and my pals found ourselves outside our local two-screen cinema in the usual pickle. You see, there was this R-rated Science Fiction film debuting in one theater while something we deemed forgettable and benign was in the other. Alas, none of us were of the appropriate age – being a few years shy, yet – so we did what every other red-blood young American boy did: we bought a ticket to the garbage flick for the sole purpose of sneaking into Peter Hyams’ Outland.
You couldn’t do this right away, you know, because the manager and usher for our local establishment were always watching from the concessions counter. We’d have to wait until just after the theater went lights out and the screen lit up because that way there’s no possible way anyone could find you in the darkened theater; and if you were smart enough to take a seat almost adjacent to some adult in the crowd the authorities would just assume you were with that fellow or lady. Granted, this might meant one would miss the opening credits – there weren’t nearly as many coming attractions aired back in those days – but such was a small price to pay when you were simply hoping to be entertained.
Thankfully, we missed nothing. In fact, I think The Ladd Company logo was just fading out when we took to a few open seats, making it perfect for us to catch the opening titles and prologue before we were plunged into the dirty business on Io, one of the moons of Jupiter. 110 minutes later, we abandoned the theater, still giddy with delight from the tale of justice served out in the Final Frontier; and we left under the spell of knowing Sean Connery – a former much-beloved agent on her Majesty’s Secret Service – was still the Alpha Male all of us believed he was meant to be. All was right in the world … well, except for the fact that we had pretty much trespassed in order to have our entertainment hunger properly satiated.
It was the summer of 1981, and I – growing up in small town America – and my pals found ourselves outside our local two-screen cinema in the usual pickle. You see, there was this R-rated Science Fiction film debuting in one theater while something we deemed forgettable and benign was in the other. Alas, none of us were of the appropriate age – being a few years shy, yet – so we did what every other red-blood young American boy did: we bought a ticket to the garbage flick for the sole purpose of sneaking into Peter Hyams’ Outland.
You couldn’t do this right away, you know, because the manager and usher for our local establishment were always watching from the concessions counter. We’d have to wait until just after the theater went lights out and the screen lit up because that way there’s no possible way anyone could find you in the darkened theater; and if you were smart enough to take a seat almost adjacent to some adult in the crowd the authorities would just assume you were with that fellow or lady. Granted, this might meant one would miss the opening credits – there weren’t nearly as many coming attractions aired back in those days – but such was a small price to pay when you were simply hoping to be entertained.
Thankfully, we missed nothing. In fact, I think The Ladd Company logo was just fading out when we took to a few open seats, making it perfect for us to catch the opening titles and prologue before we were plunged into the dirty business on Io, one of the moons of Jupiter. 110 minutes later, we abandoned the theater, still giddy with delight from the tale of justice served out in the Final Frontier; and we left under the spell of knowing Sean Connery – a former much-beloved agent on her Majesty’s Secret Service – was still the Alpha Male all of us believed he was meant to be. All was right in the world … well, except for the fact that we had pretty much trespassed in order to have our entertainment hunger properly satiated.
(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:
“A federal marshal stationed at a mining colony on the Jupiter moon of Io uncovers a drug-smuggling conspiracy. He gets no help from the workers or authorities when he finds himself marked for murder.”
Back in the late 1970’s, Hollywood had convinced itself that the great Westerns – those classic oaters which have long been said to be the only uniquely American film genre – was dying. A series of imports from overseas – namely, the Spaghetti Westerns – had kinda/sorta held the category on life support for some time; but times were a’changin’, and the old Tinseltown guard had christened the prospects for anything resembling those traditional tales of right and wrong Dead-On-Arrival (aka D.O.A.). As such, no self-respecting studio or corporate suit would even entertain the idea of greenlighting anything remotely similar … and this mean that writer/director Peter Hyams’ dream to bring a new one to cinemas would need rethinking.
Now, the dirty little secret that no one really acknowledged back then was that the Western hadn’t, in fact, died in any way. Rather, it had been re-invented by storyteller George Lucas under the name of Star Wars (1977). Much like Gene Roddenberry had crafted his singular television franchise – Star Trek (1966-1969) – to be a ‘wagon train to the stars,’ Lucas reshaped his space fantasy with all of the elements required to make for a serviceable Western. It had good guys with guns; and – instead of riding across the frontier on horseback – these heroes were equipped with blazing fighter craft. Why, Lucas even dressed his villains in their signature white and black, for Pete’s sake! The Westen wasn’t dead: it was alive and well in Outer Space!
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A federal marshal stationed at a mining colony on the Jupiter moon of Io uncovers a drug-smuggling conspiracy. He gets no help from the workers or authorities when he finds himself marked for murder.”
Back in the late 1970’s, Hollywood had convinced itself that the great Westerns – those classic oaters which have long been said to be the only uniquely American film genre – was dying. A series of imports from overseas – namely, the Spaghetti Westerns – had kinda/sorta held the category on life support for some time; but times were a’changin’, and the old Tinseltown guard had christened the prospects for anything resembling those traditional tales of right and wrong Dead-On-Arrival (aka D.O.A.). As such, no self-respecting studio or corporate suit would even entertain the idea of greenlighting anything remotely similar … and this mean that writer/director Peter Hyams’ dream to bring a new one to cinemas would need rethinking.
Now, the dirty little secret that no one really acknowledged back then was that the Western hadn’t, in fact, died in any way. Rather, it had been re-invented by storyteller George Lucas under the name of Star Wars (1977). Much like Gene Roddenberry had crafted his singular television franchise – Star Trek (1966-1969) – to be a ‘wagon train to the stars,’ Lucas reshaped his space fantasy with all of the elements required to make for a serviceable Western. It had good guys with guns; and – instead of riding across the frontier on horseback – these heroes were equipped with blazing fighter craft. Why, Lucas even dressed his villains in their signature white and black, for Pete’s sake! The Westen wasn’t dead: it was alive and well in Outer Space!
Similarly, Hyams sought to loosely retell 1952’s signature oater – Fred Zinneman’s High Noon – set against the backdrop of a mining colony in our solar system instead of on the fruited plains of 18th and 19th century America. Such well-worn pieces as the sheriff’s office, the town square, the doctor’s office, the mess hall, and the saloon would require a bit of an upgrade or a technical makeover; but the overall milieu of a people struggling to survive against an unforgiving environment remained the same. Even Noon’s ticking clock motif could be incorporated into the procedure as – instead of awaiting the arrival of dastardly bandits on the inbound train – Marshal William T. O’Niel (played by Sean Connery) knew his adversaries were set to appear on the next supply shuttle. Literally, everything which made the Western ‘tick’ was preserved in Outland; and Hyams realized his dream in spectacular fashion.
Still, there’s much more to love in Outland than just the fact that everyone involved successfully recast their Western in the cosmos.
It’s not necessarily true that – as has been reported over the years – Introvision was specifically invented for this motion picture. The truth is that this ground-breaking special effects process – the ability to view in real time how actors and actresses could be optically composited in a finished product (i.e. against background or foreground miniatures, matte paintings, etc.) – was mildly being explored in commercial applications. Such technology essentially did away with chiefly the cost of building massive sets upon which to situation any project’s action: instead, directors could direct screen talent in normal fashion while watching how they interacted with models and/or paintings via a video monitoring system. Outland was, I believe, the first major studio production to make use of these effects; and the results – while understandably flawed in a few spots – were phenomenal.
Where Outland stumbles a bit could be argued that it sticks a bit too closely to merely delivering a story and never quite developing its characters. The film and its curious circumstances are introduced by a written prologue that appears as text over extended shots of the Con-Am 27 mining facility, a rather dry bit of prose which never expands in any significant detail about the environment, instead plunking down some curious facts. Then rather quickly, the audience is plunged into darkness that slowly reveals a team of miners going about the business of extracting titanium ore. Before we know it, one of a trio is dead under curious circumstances, requiring the resident police force – of which O’Niel is a new arrival – to begin its investigation.
Still, there’s much more to love in Outland than just the fact that everyone involved successfully recast their Western in the cosmos.
It’s not necessarily true that – as has been reported over the years – Introvision was specifically invented for this motion picture. The truth is that this ground-breaking special effects process – the ability to view in real time how actors and actresses could be optically composited in a finished product (i.e. against background or foreground miniatures, matte paintings, etc.) – was mildly being explored in commercial applications. Such technology essentially did away with chiefly the cost of building massive sets upon which to situation any project’s action: instead, directors could direct screen talent in normal fashion while watching how they interacted with models and/or paintings via a video monitoring system. Outland was, I believe, the first major studio production to make use of these effects; and the results – while understandably flawed in a few spots – were phenomenal.
Where Outland stumbles a bit could be argued that it sticks a bit too closely to merely delivering a story and never quite developing its characters. The film and its curious circumstances are introduced by a written prologue that appears as text over extended shots of the Con-Am 27 mining facility, a rather dry bit of prose which never expands in any significant detail about the environment, instead plunking down some curious facts. Then rather quickly, the audience is plunged into darkness that slowly reveals a team of miners going about the business of extracting titanium ore. Before we know it, one of a trio is dead under curious circumstances, requiring the resident police force – of which O’Niel is a new arrival – to begin its investigation.
Structurally, Hyams prefers to allow his characters to be defined by their actions and not necessarily by what’s said about them. Though his script does drop negligible hints in spots, he allows the audience to make up their individual minds about O’Niel, his fellow officers, and even the Con-Am crew – including General Manager Mark Sheppard (Peter Boyle) – along the way; and this format can be occasionally clunky. As such, allies slowly turn out to be adversaries – such as Sergent Montone (James B. Sikking) who we eventually learn is ‘on the take’ from the corporation – and this construct requires those watching to stay actively engaged, something which doesn’t happen all that much in long-established Space Fantasy. Suffice it to say, Outland emerges as a vastly more adult-oriented Crime Thriller than it does most of what studios were releasing to capitalize on the trend Star Wars launched; and that might owe to why the feature has kinda/sorta been forgotten over the years. It isn’t much fun … but it was never intended to be.
Additionally, Outland shares a great deal in common with Film Noir (or Neo-Noir as would be the case given its release in the 80’s). In Noir, stories generally revolve around players whose motivations might always be either suspect or a bit dubious: they’re often a bit villainous – even if only mildly so – though some spend the bulk of their screen time attempting to escape a Fate many viewers would believe they’re owed as a consequence of such darkness. Though O’Neil is a bit softer than what audiences typically get in Noir, he does lay out in a speech late in the film wherein he admits to never exactly following protocol and being a bit of a private hellraiser. It’s underscored that – in the process – he never sought nobility of any kind; and his career consists of being shuffled from one duty assignment to the next as a result. While Noir doesn’t always get good mileage out of its tainted ‘white knights,’ O’Neil eventually squeezes himself into such a modus operandi because he’s grown tired of his life, not so much his career choices.
This is why he – as a character – bonds loosely with Dr. Lazarus (Frances Sternhagen), a somewhat equally morally aloof physician who has found herself ‘going along to get along’ as the caretaker assigned to this distant space facility. She, too, long ago gave up doing what she perceived as right and just because it led to no personal satisfaction: Con-Amalgamated largely rewards those who look the other way and allow a bit of malfeasance if it’s good for morale, so Lazarus has stopped trying to be an agent for change and has accepted the status quo. It’s only when she realizes that – for whatever reasons – O’Neil has decided he isn’t going to look away that the two find they’re more alike than different; and, together, they make what they see as ‘one last stand’ entirely because it’s spiritually their only option.
Additionally, Outland shares a great deal in common with Film Noir (or Neo-Noir as would be the case given its release in the 80’s). In Noir, stories generally revolve around players whose motivations might always be either suspect or a bit dubious: they’re often a bit villainous – even if only mildly so – though some spend the bulk of their screen time attempting to escape a Fate many viewers would believe they’re owed as a consequence of such darkness. Though O’Neil is a bit softer than what audiences typically get in Noir, he does lay out in a speech late in the film wherein he admits to never exactly following protocol and being a bit of a private hellraiser. It’s underscored that – in the process – he never sought nobility of any kind; and his career consists of being shuffled from one duty assignment to the next as a result. While Noir doesn’t always get good mileage out of its tainted ‘white knights,’ O’Neil eventually squeezes himself into such a modus operandi because he’s grown tired of his life, not so much his career choices.
This is why he – as a character – bonds loosely with Dr. Lazarus (Frances Sternhagen), a somewhat equally morally aloof physician who has found herself ‘going along to get along’ as the caretaker assigned to this distant space facility. She, too, long ago gave up doing what she perceived as right and just because it led to no personal satisfaction: Con-Amalgamated largely rewards those who look the other way and allow a bit of malfeasance if it’s good for morale, so Lazarus has stopped trying to be an agent for change and has accepted the status quo. It’s only when she realizes that – for whatever reasons – O’Neil has decided he isn’t going to look away that the two find they’re more alike than different; and, together, they make what they see as ‘one last stand’ entirely because it’s spiritually their only option.
That said, it’s this central platonic relationship – two old souls who’ve found common ground via their convictions – that grounds Outland in space. Instead of phasers on stun and grenades exploding, the film excels with human action – chase sequences, old-style fisticuffs, and shotgun blasts – to get from start-to-finish; and I’ve always wondered if such conventionality at a time when studios were going bigger and bolder with effects trickery truly kept this one from resonating as strongly as it could have. Though the film combines genres exceedingly well, it’s still worth noting that it never moves at ‘warp speed’ in any way; and it’s mild predictability – since we’ve all seen this one-horse-town before – likely also won over few fans. That’s a shame, as it’s honestly about as beautifully photographed a flick has ever been. Like those towns of old, this outpost looks like it’s been lived in … and every room along with every face has the scars to prove it.
Lastly, I’d be remiss in my praise of the film if I failed to mention the fact that it received a 1982 Academy Awards nomination in the category of ‘Best Sound,’ which in itself is interesting more so because the Academy failed to single out Outland for it being one of the first films to employ a brand new visual special effects technology to take audiences where no one had gone before … literally. A big failure on the part of the industry professionals, if you ask me! Furthermore, the flick garnered an incredible six 1982 Saturn Awards nominations across the categories of ‘Best Special Effects,’ ‘Best Music,’ ‘Best Writing,’ ‘Best Supporting Actress,’ ‘Best Actor,’ and ‘Best Science Fiction Film.’ At the end of the evening, only actress Frances Sternhagen went home with a trophy, but she definitely deserved it for contributing such a gutsy job as the ‘town doctor’ trying to keep things together on the edge of this Final Frontier. Also, Outland received a 1982 Hugo Awards nomination in the category of ‘Best Dramatic Presentation.’
Lastly, I’d be remiss in my praise of the film if I failed to mention the fact that it received a 1982 Academy Awards nomination in the category of ‘Best Sound,’ which in itself is interesting more so because the Academy failed to single out Outland for it being one of the first films to employ a brand new visual special effects technology to take audiences where no one had gone before … literally. A big failure on the part of the industry professionals, if you ask me! Furthermore, the flick garnered an incredible six 1982 Saturn Awards nominations across the categories of ‘Best Special Effects,’ ‘Best Music,’ ‘Best Writing,’ ‘Best Supporting Actress,’ ‘Best Actor,’ and ‘Best Science Fiction Film.’ At the end of the evening, only actress Frances Sternhagen went home with a trophy, but she definitely deserved it for contributing such a gutsy job as the ‘town doctor’ trying to keep things together on the edge of this Final Frontier. Also, Outland received a 1982 Hugo Awards nomination in the category of ‘Best Dramatic Presentation.’
Outland (1981) was produced by The Ladd Company. 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, let me assure everyone reading this that … WOW. This film with this 4K restoration has never looked so good (and I say that as one who has watched it previously at least a dozen times). Some might be put off by its darkness and shadows, but I can say – having seen it on the silver screen in its original run – that visual palate is part and parcel of the experience. It’s a film meant to deal in shade as the template ties to each and every piece in here. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are both newly-produced interviews and some archival stuff on there, along with two commentary tracks. I’d heard the Hyams one before: it’s good, but it’s a bit sparse here and there. The second one (from film critic Chris Alexander) is solid, but it’s far more informational and less examining the texture of the picture itself than what I prefer. Still, both are worth the time, as are the extent of supporting materials.
Strongly Recommended.
I’m not unaware of the effects that nostalgia occasionally plays on my old mind, and maybe – just maybe – my delight with so much of Outland (1981) relies on my fondness for another time and another place. It’s a film that left a lasting impression back in the day – it’s one I saw theatrically and also watched countless times on Laserdisc and VHS – and even some of that is owed to my love of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and the traditional Western (which this is heavily derivative of). But nothing dismisses the quality of these visuals and the simplicity of its story, that being a flawed white knight trying to come to grips with some dire circumstances on his own terms. Sure, its pacing is a bit slow for some; and yet those of us who appreciate slow burns will find little about which to complain. Disagree if you must, but I’ve always found it one of Connery’s best performances.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Outland (1981) 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
Strongly Recommended.
I’m not unaware of the effects that nostalgia occasionally plays on my old mind, and maybe – just maybe – my delight with so much of Outland (1981) relies on my fondness for another time and another place. It’s a film that left a lasting impression back in the day – it’s one I saw theatrically and also watched countless times on Laserdisc and VHS – and even some of that is owed to my love of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and the traditional Western (which this is heavily derivative of). But nothing dismisses the quality of these visuals and the simplicity of its story, that being a flawed white knight trying to come to grips with some dire circumstances on his own terms. Sure, its pacing is a bit slow for some; and yet those of us who appreciate slow burns will find little about which to complain. Disagree if you must, but I’ve always found it one of Connery’s best performances.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Outland (1981) 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
- Published on
Under SciFiHistory.Net’s ‘Monsters Of A Sort’ category, I take a look at features that kinda/sorta dabble in sensibilities very close to (if not downright demonstrative of) Film Noir, Neo-Noir, and/or the conventional or unconventional screen Mystery. Despite maintaining a heavy (and near constant) diet of genre projects, I’m not always satiated by just SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror; so I do like – from time-to-time – to add a little substance from these other realms. It helps widen my perspective. It helps cleanse my palate. It keeps me fresh … and a ‘fresh me’ is good for all of you, my faithful readers.
Today’s distraction is titled Hollow Triumph (1948) or – as it might be known under its alternate title – The Scar. I’ve also seen it referenced by some online under the name of The Man Who Murdered Himself but I believe that was only the film’s name while in production. Sadly, information is a bit sketchy as it’s a project that fell into public domain; and a good many cuts apparently exist online as a result.
Based on the 1946 novel by Murray Forbes, the story was adapted for the silver screen by Daniel Fuchs and directed by Steve Sekely, though apparently Sekely was eventually dismissed, and star Paul Henreid took control of the reins. Alongside Henreid, the picture starred Joan Bennett, Eduard Franz, Leslie Brooks, John Qualen, and others. Essentially, it’s the tale of one man who steals another’s identity only to find that his troubled past has still caught up with him in ways he couldn’t possibly have foreseen.
(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 …)
Today’s distraction is titled Hollow Triumph (1948) or – as it might be known under its alternate title – The Scar. I’ve also seen it referenced by some online under the name of The Man Who Murdered Himself but I believe that was only the film’s name while in production. Sadly, information is a bit sketchy as it’s a project that fell into public domain; and a good many cuts apparently exist online as a result.
Based on the 1946 novel by Murray Forbes, the story was adapted for the silver screen by Daniel Fuchs and directed by Steve Sekely, though apparently Sekely was eventually dismissed, and star Paul Henreid took control of the reins. Alongside Henreid, the picture starred Joan Bennett, Eduard Franz, Leslie Brooks, John Qualen, and others. Essentially, it’s the tale of one man who steals another’s identity only to find that his troubled past has still caught up with him in ways he couldn’t possibly have foreseen.
(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:
“Pursued by the big-time gambler he robbed, John Muller assumes a new identity, with unfortunate results.”
As the saying goes, it’s sometimes difficult to teach an old dog a new trick; and that’s the case with ex-con John Müller (as played by Paul Henreid).
Upon his release from the big house, he rather quickly dips back into a life of crime, joining up with a small gang of hoodlums to pull a heist of an illegal casino run by Rocky Stansyck (Thomas Browne Henry). Things go awry, and not everyone gets away clean. Because Stansyck has a reputation of relentlessly tracking down those who’ve wronged him no matter how long it takes, Müller skips town to set up shop elsewhere, taking the job as an ordinary office grunt. When Stansyck’s goons eventually show up with the intention of putting him six feet under, Müller plots to assume the identity of big city psychoanalyst Dr. Victor Bartok – a professional whom he rather curiously almost exactly resembles – in hopes of hiding in plain sight. Through a somewhat elaborate ruse, Müller murders the man and disposes of his body. To his delight, it all works out easier than he could’ve hoped. No one even seems to notice that Bartok’s facial scar has curiously switched cheeks!
By assuming Bartok’s identity, Müller also gains access to the doctor’s personal life. Though secretly pining over the therapist’s secretary Evelyn Hahn (Joan Bennett), he soon learns that Bartok maintained a somewhat regular relationship with Virginia Taylor (Leslie Brooks). It’s here that Müller’s criminal past and Bartok’s criminal present curiously converge: it would seem that the good doctor was a bit of a gambler – not a very good one, at that – and he’s build up a rather sizable debt to the local Maxwell’s casino. The time has come for Bartok to pay up; and Müller doesn’t have the money. Naturally, this’ll have the ex-con doing what he does best, meaning he’ll take it on the lam, this time with the lovely Hahn – who’s learned his secret – in tow. But Fate is sometimes cruel, and Maxwell’s thugs intervene on the docks, shooting the faux doctor dead whilst Evie waits silently watching from top deck of the departing ship.
As a Film Noir, Hollow Triumph works reasonably well. Of course, one has to set aside the somewhat obvious contrivance of Bartok and Müller – both played by Henreid – looking like identical twins. That’s always the kind of thing audiences have to accept in tales of this sort, and Triumph is no different. The scar bit is a nice touch, but it’s really only used in small ways, so when Müller tries to use it in his defense to the gangster closing in on him methinks no one – not even watchers – are taking him seriously. Sadly, Henreid really plays both characters a bit too similarly – standing around, looking regal, giving pensive stares, smoking cigarettes, etc. – so there’s very little distinction between them, not that Bartok is around all that much. Still, some variance – even minor quirks – would’ve been appreciated for a little screen nuance.
“Pursued by the big-time gambler he robbed, John Muller assumes a new identity, with unfortunate results.”
As the saying goes, it’s sometimes difficult to teach an old dog a new trick; and that’s the case with ex-con John Müller (as played by Paul Henreid).
Upon his release from the big house, he rather quickly dips back into a life of crime, joining up with a small gang of hoodlums to pull a heist of an illegal casino run by Rocky Stansyck (Thomas Browne Henry). Things go awry, and not everyone gets away clean. Because Stansyck has a reputation of relentlessly tracking down those who’ve wronged him no matter how long it takes, Müller skips town to set up shop elsewhere, taking the job as an ordinary office grunt. When Stansyck’s goons eventually show up with the intention of putting him six feet under, Müller plots to assume the identity of big city psychoanalyst Dr. Victor Bartok – a professional whom he rather curiously almost exactly resembles – in hopes of hiding in plain sight. Through a somewhat elaborate ruse, Müller murders the man and disposes of his body. To his delight, it all works out easier than he could’ve hoped. No one even seems to notice that Bartok’s facial scar has curiously switched cheeks!
By assuming Bartok’s identity, Müller also gains access to the doctor’s personal life. Though secretly pining over the therapist’s secretary Evelyn Hahn (Joan Bennett), he soon learns that Bartok maintained a somewhat regular relationship with Virginia Taylor (Leslie Brooks). It’s here that Müller’s criminal past and Bartok’s criminal present curiously converge: it would seem that the good doctor was a bit of a gambler – not a very good one, at that – and he’s build up a rather sizable debt to the local Maxwell’s casino. The time has come for Bartok to pay up; and Müller doesn’t have the money. Naturally, this’ll have the ex-con doing what he does best, meaning he’ll take it on the lam, this time with the lovely Hahn – who’s learned his secret – in tow. But Fate is sometimes cruel, and Maxwell’s thugs intervene on the docks, shooting the faux doctor dead whilst Evie waits silently watching from top deck of the departing ship.
As a Film Noir, Hollow Triumph works reasonably well. Of course, one has to set aside the somewhat obvious contrivance of Bartok and Müller – both played by Henreid – looking like identical twins. That’s always the kind of thing audiences have to accept in tales of this sort, and Triumph is no different. The scar bit is a nice touch, but it’s really only used in small ways, so when Müller tries to use it in his defense to the gangster closing in on him methinks no one – not even watchers – are taking him seriously. Sadly, Henreid really plays both characters a bit too similarly – standing around, looking regal, giving pensive stares, smoking cigarettes, etc. – so there’s very little distinction between them, not that Bartok is around all that much. Still, some variance – even minor quirks – would’ve been appreciated for a little screen nuance.
Stylistically, the film is rather plain. There are some nice touches in spots, but overall its look is reasonably predictable. I’m not sure if this is owed to the fact that Sekely exited the production at some point and Henreid stepped in; but the vast majority of the staging is fairly predictable with noir’s usual shadows coming into play in a handful of scenes. Cinematography John Alton – a future Oscar winner – does squeeze in some great close-ups of Henreid; and Bennett – a blonde who reportedly switched to brunette in order to play the femme fatale in pictures – arguably looks fetching in every scene. For a story that retains a downward spiral throughout, perhaps I expected a bit more from a flick that some have suggested is one of the highlights of the genre. It’s good – it’s ending sequence is pretty top notch as Noir goes – but there’s a bit of plainness between several of its chapters, as it were.
Curiously, I was also struck by the fact that Hollow Triumph shares damn near the same ending as an earlier noir: 1938’s Algiers winds down with thief Pepe le Moko (Charles Boyer) meeting his demise as Gaby (Hedy Lamarr) watches for him from the desk of her departing ship, with even the blowing horn drowning out a central piece of the action. While I can appreciate the central similarity between the two tales – i.e. no matter what good they might do, these baddies simply cannot escape their fates – I can’t help but wonder if audiences of the day wondered about whether or not one flick influenced the other both on the drawing board and in the editing booth. Great minds think alike, but these two sequences play out almost identical … much like Bartok and Müller.
Lastly, it’s worth noting that – from what IMDB.com also reports – I may not have seen the complete film. IMDB.com shows Hollow Triumph’s running time as being 83 minutes, but the version I watched on YouTube.com cites a running time of 79 minutes. I have done a bit of research, and I’ve learned that there are multiple versions of the flick which may or may not have slightly different lengths. For posterity’s sake, I’ll keep my eyes open for a longer cut if and when the feature makes the rounds on Turner Classic Movies, MGM+, or elsewhere as I’d love to see all of it.
Hollow Triumph (1948) (aka The Scar) was produced by Bryan Foy Productions. Presently, the film does show available for rental or purchase via a variety of online platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are nonetheless solid – a bit grainy here and there, but that’s to be expected. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, as I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Hollow Triumph (1948) as I viewed it for free via the Information Superhighway.
-- EZ
Curiously, I was also struck by the fact that Hollow Triumph shares damn near the same ending as an earlier noir: 1938’s Algiers winds down with thief Pepe le Moko (Charles Boyer) meeting his demise as Gaby (Hedy Lamarr) watches for him from the desk of her departing ship, with even the blowing horn drowning out a central piece of the action. While I can appreciate the central similarity between the two tales – i.e. no matter what good they might do, these baddies simply cannot escape their fates – I can’t help but wonder if audiences of the day wondered about whether or not one flick influenced the other both on the drawing board and in the editing booth. Great minds think alike, but these two sequences play out almost identical … much like Bartok and Müller.
Lastly, it’s worth noting that – from what IMDB.com also reports – I may not have seen the complete film. IMDB.com shows Hollow Triumph’s running time as being 83 minutes, but the version I watched on YouTube.com cites a running time of 79 minutes. I have done a bit of research, and I’ve learned that there are multiple versions of the flick which may or may not have slightly different lengths. For posterity’s sake, I’ll keep my eyes open for a longer cut if and when the feature makes the rounds on Turner Classic Movies, MGM+, or elsewhere as I’d love to see all of it.
Hollow Triumph (1948) (aka The Scar) was produced by Bryan Foy Productions. Presently, the film does show available for rental or purchase via a variety of online platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are nonetheless solid – a bit grainy here and there, but that’s to be expected. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, as I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Hollow Triumph (1948) as I viewed it for free via the Information Superhighway.
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 2013 (in the United Kingdom), the big city of London, England played host for the exclusive theatrical premiere event held for Thor: The Dark World. Directed by Alan Taylor from a screenplay by Christopher L. Yost, Christopher Marcus, and Stephen McFeely, the film starred Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston, Natalie Portman, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"When the Dark Elves attempt to plunge the universe into darkness, Thor must embark on a perilous and personal journey that will reunite him with doctor Jane Foster."
For the record:
At the 2014 Saturn Awards, Thor: The Dark World enjoyed nominations -- but no wins -- in the categories of 'Best Make-Up,' 'Best Costumes,' 'Best Special Effects,' 'Best Supporting Actor,' and 'Best Comic-To-Film Motion Picture.'
-- EZ
On this day in 2013 (in the United Kingdom), the big city of London, England played host for the exclusive theatrical premiere event held for Thor: The Dark World. Directed by Alan Taylor from a screenplay by Christopher L. Yost, Christopher Marcus, and Stephen McFeely, the film starred Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston, Natalie Portman, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"When the Dark Elves attempt to plunge the universe into darkness, Thor must embark on a perilous and personal journey that will reunite him with doctor Jane Foster."
For the record:
At the 2014 Saturn Awards, Thor: The Dark World enjoyed nominations -- but no wins -- in the categories of 'Best Make-Up,' 'Best Costumes,' 'Best Special Effects,' 'Best Supporting Actor,' and 'Best Comic-To-Film Motion Picture.'
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 2009 (in Ghana, Australia, Greece, Malaysia, and New Zealand), the Saw franchise grew by one with the theatrical release of Saw VI. Directed by Kevin Greutert from a story by Patrick Melton and Marcus Dunstan, the film starred Costas Mandylor, Mark Rolston, Betsy Russell, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Agent Strahm is dead, and FBI agent Erickson draws nearer to Hoffman. Meanwhile, a pair of insurance executives find themselves in another game set by Jigsaw."
-- EZ
On this day in 2009 (in Ghana, Australia, Greece, Malaysia, and New Zealand), the Saw franchise grew by one with the theatrical release of Saw VI. Directed by Kevin Greutert from a story by Patrick Melton and Marcus Dunstan, the film starred Costas Mandylor, Mark Rolston, Betsy Russell, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Agent Strahm is dead, and FBI agent Erickson draws nearer to Hoffman. Meanwhile, a pair of insurance executives find themselves in another game set by Jigsaw."
-- 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:
“After being attacked and raped twice in one day, a timid, mute seamstress goes insane, takes to the streets of New York City after dark, and randomly shoots men with a .45 caliber pistol.”
I’m going to kinda/sorta dispel the myth long associated with Ms. 45 that some readers might find objectionable: it both is and isn’t a ‘Rape Revenge’ film. Now, this is a small distinction, but I think it’s critically important in understanding just how the project fits uniquely into its own slot in film history, maybe even making it a bit more worthy of further consideration by those who prefer to spend time both thinking and writing about film.
Generally, the Rape Revenge film introduces audiences to an anti-hero – predominantly female – who suffers an egregiously violent sexual assault. The woman eventually recovers – no easy task given what’s been done to her – and then she goes about enacting what she perceives as a necessary form of punishment on her assailants. The payback is equally bloody and grim, taking on the feel of physical torment – if not outright torture – not unlike the trauma she experienced. Furthermore, our crusader more often than not murders those who did her wrong in the process of retribution, insuring that those wrongdoers will never have the chance to do anything similar again.
Additionally, our original victim may or may not have gone to the authorities, a key variance in some flicks but not always relevant to the tale being told. Yet, on the occasions when the police have been contacted, they generally fail to do anything substantive to see her attackers brought under heel. Sometimes this is attributed to a sense that the authorities determine the victim should’ve known better – the truest ‘Rape Revenge’ films are the original ‘victim shamers’ – or that she somehow deserved the attack as a product of her own negligence. In some films, it’s this step – the failure of the legal system – which serves as the catalyst for her to go ‘lone wolf,’ but again it’s important to note that not every Rape Revenge picture uses the same ingredients equally. Stories vary widely as they should.
What allows Ms. 45 to stand on its own is the fact that after Thana (as played by Zoë Lund) – a mute seamstress working in the heart of New York’s garment district – is raped not once but twice in the same afternoon: in concert, these experiences cause the young woman to suffer a psychological breakdown. From this point forward, she’s no longer herself, and she’s personally compelled to violently go after ALL MEN. In fact, Thana never finds nor even seeks her original rapists; instead, she’ll target any man over simply for what she perceives as the sin of being male. You see, she lives in a world she sees subjected exclusively to ‘The Patriarchy,’ and her ‘revenge’ isn’t so much moral reprisals imposed as a form of penance but rather punishment for men being born male. Of course, a few of these men make some serious errors in judgment. Yes, a few of them are obvious misogynists and perhaps not even fit to share space with any woman. But come the film’s big finish, Thana is merely acting out solely via her mental lapse and slaying any male at arm’s length; and, for this reason, she’s likely not going to be celebrated in any way for what she did.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“After being attacked and raped twice in one day, a timid, mute seamstress goes insane, takes to the streets of New York City after dark, and randomly shoots men with a .45 caliber pistol.”
I’m going to kinda/sorta dispel the myth long associated with Ms. 45 that some readers might find objectionable: it both is and isn’t a ‘Rape Revenge’ film. Now, this is a small distinction, but I think it’s critically important in understanding just how the project fits uniquely into its own slot in film history, maybe even making it a bit more worthy of further consideration by those who prefer to spend time both thinking and writing about film.
Generally, the Rape Revenge film introduces audiences to an anti-hero – predominantly female – who suffers an egregiously violent sexual assault. The woman eventually recovers – no easy task given what’s been done to her – and then she goes about enacting what she perceives as a necessary form of punishment on her assailants. The payback is equally bloody and grim, taking on the feel of physical torment – if not outright torture – not unlike the trauma she experienced. Furthermore, our crusader more often than not murders those who did her wrong in the process of retribution, insuring that those wrongdoers will never have the chance to do anything similar again.
Additionally, our original victim may or may not have gone to the authorities, a key variance in some flicks but not always relevant to the tale being told. Yet, on the occasions when the police have been contacted, they generally fail to do anything substantive to see her attackers brought under heel. Sometimes this is attributed to a sense that the authorities determine the victim should’ve known better – the truest ‘Rape Revenge’ films are the original ‘victim shamers’ – or that she somehow deserved the attack as a product of her own negligence. In some films, it’s this step – the failure of the legal system – which serves as the catalyst for her to go ‘lone wolf,’ but again it’s important to note that not every Rape Revenge picture uses the same ingredients equally. Stories vary widely as they should.
What allows Ms. 45 to stand on its own is the fact that after Thana (as played by Zoë Lund) – a mute seamstress working in the heart of New York’s garment district – is raped not once but twice in the same afternoon: in concert, these experiences cause the young woman to suffer a psychological breakdown. From this point forward, she’s no longer herself, and she’s personally compelled to violently go after ALL MEN. In fact, Thana never finds nor even seeks her original rapists; instead, she’ll target any man over simply for what she perceives as the sin of being male. You see, she lives in a world she sees subjected exclusively to ‘The Patriarchy,’ and her ‘revenge’ isn’t so much moral reprisals imposed as a form of penance but rather punishment for men being born male. Of course, a few of these men make some serious errors in judgment. Yes, a few of them are obvious misogynists and perhaps not even fit to share space with any woman. But come the film’s big finish, Thana is merely acting out solely via her mental lapse and slaying any male at arm’s length; and, for this reason, she’s likely not going to be celebrated in any way for what she did.
Structurally, Ms. 45 – as directed by Abel Ferrara from a script by Nicholas St. John –strongly resembles one of Martin Scorsese’s earliest theatrical accomplishments: 1976’s Taxi Driver starred a young Robert De Niro in the role of Travis Bickle, a mentally unstable Vietnam War veteran who spends his evenings patrolling the dangerous underbelly of New York City in his cab. Witnessing the endless parade of debauchery and depravity convinces this trouper to, ultimately, wage a one-man campaign against those he sees as sources of evil on his streets. In his last big act of valor, Bickle does accomplish taking down some very unsavory characters while saving the life of the young Iris (Jodie Foster): in comparison, Thana essentially becomes nothing more than Ms. 45’s central villain by recklessly murdering all males – guilty or innocent – in close proximity, and she’s ultimately struck down when stabbed by a shocked female coworker.
Oh, the irony!
None of this is to suggest in any way that Ms. 45 – despite being somewhat flawed in its messaging – isn’t worth the time because nothing could be further from the truth. Ferrara – as a director – is no slouch, and he peppers the film with some interesting ideas and imagery throughout, the kind of thing that our cultural betters like to debate the meanings of. There’s a strong current of Feminism rather obviously and sometimes lazily running through the picture, and I think that’s worth considering along the way. But objects like masks and food and clothing serve more than a single purpose in here. Gender roles are laid bare, and the project definitely gives audiences something to think about. Were I so inclined, I could pen an entire essay about the significance of the apple to fill up space. Still, nothing replaces the fact that neither Travis nor Thana are functioning with a full deck of cards: as such, they’re unreliable narrators – Thana more so because she’s mute and gives us so little to go on regarding how she might feel about her efforts – and not be taken seriously.
Ms. 45 (1981) was produced by Navaron Films. 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, I can still assure readers that this 4K restoration truly looks and sounds great: there are some quirks here and there with the audio that I noticed – a dip in quality in spots but some of it may very well have been intentional as it relates to some mildly graphic scenery. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts an audio commentary track from scholar Alexandra Heller-Nicholas (it’s good but not very film-specific a great deal of the time) along with some interviews, essays, and the usual fare (trailers, images, etc.). There’s definitely an assortment that should keep fans busy for some time.
Recommended.
Undoubtedly, 1981’s Ms. 45 shares a lot of the same DNA that fuels Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976) with some key narrative differences. First, it’s exclusively a female point of view. Second, it’s equally exploitative about moral decay and the human/inhuman response to it. Third, both stories revolve around increasingly independent people who’ve lost a good deal of the marbles, respectively. Lastly, both are grounded in the exploration of vigilante justice. Where they diverge, however, is that the character of Thana and her action throughout – while some might argue are noble – rely heavily on entrapping individuals who would or might do her harm. In the finale, she grows increasingly detached from targeting authentic wrongdoers and, instead, focuses exclusively on waging a gender war regardless of any evidence of criminality whatsoever. While Travis Bickle may’ve ended up being celebrated for his efforts, I can’t see the same happening for Thana.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Ms. 45 (1981) 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
Oh, the irony!
None of this is to suggest in any way that Ms. 45 – despite being somewhat flawed in its messaging – isn’t worth the time because nothing could be further from the truth. Ferrara – as a director – is no slouch, and he peppers the film with some interesting ideas and imagery throughout, the kind of thing that our cultural betters like to debate the meanings of. There’s a strong current of Feminism rather obviously and sometimes lazily running through the picture, and I think that’s worth considering along the way. But objects like masks and food and clothing serve more than a single purpose in here. Gender roles are laid bare, and the project definitely gives audiences something to think about. Were I so inclined, I could pen an entire essay about the significance of the apple to fill up space. Still, nothing replaces the fact that neither Travis nor Thana are functioning with a full deck of cards: as such, they’re unreliable narrators – Thana more so because she’s mute and gives us so little to go on regarding how she might feel about her efforts – and not be taken seriously.
Ms. 45 (1981) was produced by Navaron Films. 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, I can still assure readers that this 4K restoration truly looks and sounds great: there are some quirks here and there with the audio that I noticed – a dip in quality in spots but some of it may very well have been intentional as it relates to some mildly graphic scenery. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts an audio commentary track from scholar Alexandra Heller-Nicholas (it’s good but not very film-specific a great deal of the time) along with some interviews, essays, and the usual fare (trailers, images, etc.). There’s definitely an assortment that should keep fans busy for some time.
Recommended.
Undoubtedly, 1981’s Ms. 45 shares a lot of the same DNA that fuels Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976) with some key narrative differences. First, it’s exclusively a female point of view. Second, it’s equally exploitative about moral decay and the human/inhuman response to it. Third, both stories revolve around increasingly independent people who’ve lost a good deal of the marbles, respectively. Lastly, both are grounded in the exploration of vigilante justice. Where they diverge, however, is that the character of Thana and her action throughout – while some might argue are noble – rely heavily on entrapping individuals who would or might do her harm. In the finale, she grows increasingly detached from targeting authentic wrongdoers and, instead, focuses exclusively on waging a gender war regardless of any evidence of criminality whatsoever. While Travis Bickle may’ve ended up being celebrated for his efforts, I can’t see the same happening for Thana.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Ms. 45 (1981) 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
- 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:
“When Fred Staples is recruited onto the board of a high-powered New York corporation, he finds his ethics and ambition at odds.”
If I’m being perfectly honest, then I’d have to admit that Patterns (1955) is not the usual fare I cover on SciFiHistory.Net.
You see, Patterns is what’s pretty commonly referred to as a ‘Boardroom Drama,’ a kind of staged exploration of what’s said and/or thought to go on behind closed doors of the big American capitalist experience. From what I’ve read, I’ve come to know that it was not a theatrical release but a positively received telefilm that was aired as part of the Kraft Television Theater, a drama anthology that aired from 1947 through 1958. And without spoiling one key element – which I will spoil momentarily – Patterns is the kind of thing that, normally, might only attract me as a casual viewer and under normal circumstances wouldn’t be something I’d give all that much of a passing thought, much less a critical examination.
But Patterns – for those of you who don’t know this – remains one of Rod Serling’s earliest successes … and being a fan of the creator of such timeless programs as The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery … well, that just means I’d have to eventually give this one a look out of sheer, unadulterated curiosity. While it certainly bears little resemblance to what I think many believe are the man’s signature works, Patterns is still of some merit because it gave homegrown audiences a look into corporate dynamics they’d never seen before, a television broadcast so popular viewers that it was re-aired for consumption not even one month later.
So, on one level, it is a bit difficult to react to Patterns in an unbiased way. Undoubtedly, it looks and sounds very little like so much of Serling’s output, which is not to suggest it’s deficient in any way. Imagine that one of your favorite writers dabbled outside of his or her mainstay, and you understand my predicament. While there are certain signs structurally of how Serling’s genius worked – it all revolves around the ending, which isn’t a twist except that a main character may act in a way unexpected – it’s far more an effort that stands on its own outside the storyteller’s wider legacy. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
Lured away from his smaller town upbringing and work life, Fred Staples (played by Van Heflin) still manages to learn very quickly his way around Ramsey & Sons, a New York conglomerate lorded over by the somewhat oppressive Walter Ramsey (Everett Sloane). Once relocated to the big city, Fred is paired up in the executive suite with the affable Bill Briggs (Ed Begley), a moralistic corporate crusader who – after several decades – is finding the usual boardroom dynamic a bit hard-to-stomach (pun intended, and that’ll make sense once you see this). Little did Fred know that he was actually lured to the company as a plot to reduce Briggs’ service and eventually replace the aging director; but when he finds himself forced to play office politics against his better instincts, Staples begins resisting, a position that’ll lead him in no small way to a showdown of wits and wills with the chief executive.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When Fred Staples is recruited onto the board of a high-powered New York corporation, he finds his ethics and ambition at odds.”
If I’m being perfectly honest, then I’d have to admit that Patterns (1955) is not the usual fare I cover on SciFiHistory.Net.
You see, Patterns is what’s pretty commonly referred to as a ‘Boardroom Drama,’ a kind of staged exploration of what’s said and/or thought to go on behind closed doors of the big American capitalist experience. From what I’ve read, I’ve come to know that it was not a theatrical release but a positively received telefilm that was aired as part of the Kraft Television Theater, a drama anthology that aired from 1947 through 1958. And without spoiling one key element – which I will spoil momentarily – Patterns is the kind of thing that, normally, might only attract me as a casual viewer and under normal circumstances wouldn’t be something I’d give all that much of a passing thought, much less a critical examination.
But Patterns – for those of you who don’t know this – remains one of Rod Serling’s earliest successes … and being a fan of the creator of such timeless programs as The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery … well, that just means I’d have to eventually give this one a look out of sheer, unadulterated curiosity. While it certainly bears little resemblance to what I think many believe are the man’s signature works, Patterns is still of some merit because it gave homegrown audiences a look into corporate dynamics they’d never seen before, a television broadcast so popular viewers that it was re-aired for consumption not even one month later.
So, on one level, it is a bit difficult to react to Patterns in an unbiased way. Undoubtedly, it looks and sounds very little like so much of Serling’s output, which is not to suggest it’s deficient in any way. Imagine that one of your favorite writers dabbled outside of his or her mainstay, and you understand my predicament. While there are certain signs structurally of how Serling’s genius worked – it all revolves around the ending, which isn’t a twist except that a main character may act in a way unexpected – it’s far more an effort that stands on its own outside the storyteller’s wider legacy. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
Lured away from his smaller town upbringing and work life, Fred Staples (played by Van Heflin) still manages to learn very quickly his way around Ramsey & Sons, a New York conglomerate lorded over by the somewhat oppressive Walter Ramsey (Everett Sloane). Once relocated to the big city, Fred is paired up in the executive suite with the affable Bill Briggs (Ed Begley), a moralistic corporate crusader who – after several decades – is finding the usual boardroom dynamic a bit hard-to-stomach (pun intended, and that’ll make sense once you see this). Little did Fred know that he was actually lured to the company as a plot to reduce Briggs’ service and eventually replace the aging director; but when he finds himself forced to play office politics against his better instincts, Staples begins resisting, a position that’ll lead him in no small way to a showdown of wits and wills with the chief executive.
In most ways, Patterns works as a kinda/sorta exposé into the life and times of capitalism’s most favored. While I’ve found nothing online or in research to suggest in any way that Serling had an axe to grind with corporate America, there’s an undeniable sense that – as a writer – he was commenting on the propensity for personality clashes in the workplace to grow to untenable dimensions if left unchecked by forces that might have … erm … mankind’s best interests at heart. Having spent more than a few years in corporate America, I can say that I’ve certainly met (and been fired by!) more than my share of Walter Ramsey’s than I’d like, so I can appreciate what the screenwriter may’ve been trying to do by shining a bit of unwelcome light into the lifestyles of the rich and ruthless.
Still …
Where I do have a bit of separation from what was attempted here is that – in the final reel – Staples chooses to remain part of the toxic environment while under what I perceive as his own personal delusion that he can make such a place as Ramsey & Sons any better. Granted, some of this is owed to my own experience in knowing that folks like the bitter dictator of a corporate boss is more often rewarded than he’s ever pushed to change; but I think more of my critical chagrin is grounded in the fact that this didn’t quite seem to be a character’s choice reflecting what his words were. Sure, I give him kudos for eventually choosing to stay gainfully employed at a place that grinds souls into soulless meat: however, he kinda/sorta sold out the crusader-in-him he’d led the audience to believe he was with that decision. In fact, he personally enriched himself and his family in the process; and is that the kind of culture warrior the average working man needs as a centerpiece?
I’m not so sure.
Patterns (1955) was produced by Jed Harris and Michael Myerberg while actively distributed through United Artists. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Film Masters. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are very solid from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, you’ll have to look elsewhere as the disc boasts not a single one. A disappointment.
Recommended.
A somewhat dated look behind the curtains of big business, Patterns (1955) might have one questioning his or her life choices – if they’ve found themselves at such a crossroads – but cheering one man’s attempt to make the boss behave better. While I personally wouldn’t hold out any hope for a lasting paradigm shift on the part of Mr. Ramsey, there’s still some enjoyment in seeing someone finally stand up to a workplace bully and not get tossed out on his ass. Reality being what it is, Serling still chucked the studio tendency for a purely happy ending by leaving this one on a note wherein those watching might question what was really gained in the process. The telefilm remains a wonderful glimpse into the way one of the medium’s best storytellers worked; and – on that level – it’s definitely worth a view.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to the disclose that the fine folks at Film Masters (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Patterns (1956) 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
Still …
Where I do have a bit of separation from what was attempted here is that – in the final reel – Staples chooses to remain part of the toxic environment while under what I perceive as his own personal delusion that he can make such a place as Ramsey & Sons any better. Granted, some of this is owed to my own experience in knowing that folks like the bitter dictator of a corporate boss is more often rewarded than he’s ever pushed to change; but I think more of my critical chagrin is grounded in the fact that this didn’t quite seem to be a character’s choice reflecting what his words were. Sure, I give him kudos for eventually choosing to stay gainfully employed at a place that grinds souls into soulless meat: however, he kinda/sorta sold out the crusader-in-him he’d led the audience to believe he was with that decision. In fact, he personally enriched himself and his family in the process; and is that the kind of culture warrior the average working man needs as a centerpiece?
I’m not so sure.
Patterns (1955) was produced by Jed Harris and Michael Myerberg while actively distributed through United Artists. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Film Masters. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are very solid from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, you’ll have to look elsewhere as the disc boasts not a single one. A disappointment.
Recommended.
A somewhat dated look behind the curtains of big business, Patterns (1955) might have one questioning his or her life choices – if they’ve found themselves at such a crossroads – but cheering one man’s attempt to make the boss behave better. While I personally wouldn’t hold out any hope for a lasting paradigm shift on the part of Mr. Ramsey, there’s still some enjoyment in seeing someone finally stand up to a workplace bully and not get tossed out on his ass. Reality being what it is, Serling still chucked the studio tendency for a purely happy ending by leaving this one on a note wherein those watching might question what was really gained in the process. The telefilm remains a wonderful glimpse into the way one of the medium’s best storytellers worked; and – on that level – it’s definitely worth a view.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to the disclose that the fine folks at Film Masters (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Patterns (1956) 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
- Published on
Films exploring racial politics have always been a hard sell to audiences; and – from what I’ve read – novels have also suffered a bit of social stigma in their attempt to bridge the divide.
While this isn’t always the central complaint, a great many stories encounter controversy entirely on the shoulders of the storyteller. For example, 1962’s To Kill A Mockingbird – a feature I’m proud to call one of my personal favorites – was adapted Harper Lee’s 1960 novel; and – for what it’s worth – both versions have been somewhat lambasted for being inauthentic explorations of the ‘black experience’ because the story stems from the imagination of a white writer. Choosing to ignore the factual elements portrayed, critics instead dismiss its potentially substantive value by dismantling its effectiveness through the narrow prism of race … the very point both the book and the film heartily deconstructs. Instead of simply appreciating the central story’s ability to create a conversation that all parties can participate in, some would even go so far as to see the tale of Scout Finch, her father Atticus, and Tom Robinson banned entirely! So much for wanting to see a bit of light cast onto the plight of others …
Because history is known to repeat itself, let me redirect our collective attention to another case in the film adaptation subgenre for posterity’s sake: 1948’s Intruder In The Dust from William Faulkner also explored the racial dynamics of the deep South through the eyes of a young white narrator by introducing young Chick Mallison who – along with his lawyer-uncle John Gavin Stevens – set aside prejudices in order to come to the defense of Lucas Beauchamp, a black man wrongly accused of murder. Like Mockingbird, the defendant is chiefly a supporting character – no less important but ultimately necessary because of the way these webs are spun – and the novel endured its fair share of disapproval for similarly ‘whitewashing’ the ideas of equality, segregation, and even due process. What some contend to be one of history’s most complex issues, opponents deride for the perceived simplicity of its presentation … and again I say “so much for casting a little light …”
More folks should set aside such superficial concerns and indulge themselves with the 1949 film. Directed by Clarence Brown from a script adapted by Ben Maddow, the crime drama is a wonderful achievement technically and pedagogically. Like Mockingbird, what emerges is a story equally entertaining and instructive, a fable that’s meant to bring two colors to, minimally, a place wherein a conversation can begin. While the perspective might be a bit one-sided racially, isn’t that precisely the contention that justifiably riles everyone up anyway? If a bit of learning can come from such a modest exposure, isn’t that worth the price of admission? While I’m not advocating any single point of view is ever sufficiently accurate, does that make it any less compelling a story?
(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 …)
While this isn’t always the central complaint, a great many stories encounter controversy entirely on the shoulders of the storyteller. For example, 1962’s To Kill A Mockingbird – a feature I’m proud to call one of my personal favorites – was adapted Harper Lee’s 1960 novel; and – for what it’s worth – both versions have been somewhat lambasted for being inauthentic explorations of the ‘black experience’ because the story stems from the imagination of a white writer. Choosing to ignore the factual elements portrayed, critics instead dismiss its potentially substantive value by dismantling its effectiveness through the narrow prism of race … the very point both the book and the film heartily deconstructs. Instead of simply appreciating the central story’s ability to create a conversation that all parties can participate in, some would even go so far as to see the tale of Scout Finch, her father Atticus, and Tom Robinson banned entirely! So much for wanting to see a bit of light cast onto the plight of others …
Because history is known to repeat itself, let me redirect our collective attention to another case in the film adaptation subgenre for posterity’s sake: 1948’s Intruder In The Dust from William Faulkner also explored the racial dynamics of the deep South through the eyes of a young white narrator by introducing young Chick Mallison who – along with his lawyer-uncle John Gavin Stevens – set aside prejudices in order to come to the defense of Lucas Beauchamp, a black man wrongly accused of murder. Like Mockingbird, the defendant is chiefly a supporting character – no less important but ultimately necessary because of the way these webs are spun – and the novel endured its fair share of disapproval for similarly ‘whitewashing’ the ideas of equality, segregation, and even due process. What some contend to be one of history’s most complex issues, opponents deride for the perceived simplicity of its presentation … and again I say “so much for casting a little light …”
More folks should set aside such superficial concerns and indulge themselves with the 1949 film. Directed by Clarence Brown from a script adapted by Ben Maddow, the crime drama is a wonderful achievement technically and pedagogically. Like Mockingbird, what emerges is a story equally entertaining and instructive, a fable that’s meant to bring two colors to, minimally, a place wherein a conversation can begin. While the perspective might be a bit one-sided racially, isn’t that precisely the contention that justifiably riles everyone up anyway? If a bit of learning can come from such a modest exposure, isn’t that worth the price of admission? While I’m not advocating any single point of view is ever sufficiently accurate, does that make it any less compelling a story?
(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 a small Mississippi town, a teenage boy, his lawyer uncle and an elderly woman combine forces to prevent a miscarriage of justice and clear a black man of a murder charge.”
Chick Mallison (played by Claude Jarman Jr.) is a child of reasonable privilege. As such, he’s inherited a few opinions over the course of his young life largely not because they’re his own but more so because that’s all he’s seen in society. But he’s slowly come to the point in his own education that he’s started to modestly question why things are they way they are; and this awakening is what causes him to take a liking to Lucas Beauchamp (Juano Hernandez), an independent black man – and a landowner – whose act of kindness helped Chick out one day. Our young narrator learns a thing or two about charity when Beauchamp refuses to take the boy’s money simply for doing ‘the right and neighborly thing,’ and the resulting epiphany inevitably changes the way Chick looks at the world around him with all of its goodness and all of its flaws.
So when Mr. Beauchamp is accused of not only shooting a white man but – perhaps even more egregious – shooting him in the back, Chick plunges into his own investigation because he knows such an act would be beyond the older man’s sensibilities. Gradually, our young detective pulls a few family and friends under his wing, even convincing his uncle Gavin (David Brian) to take up the legal defense so that they can gain access to greater information. What the group inevitably uncovers isn’t so much shocking as it is enlightening on how the status quo convicts a man of color despite what would otherwise be circumstantial evidence. But the journey to saving one innocent man’s life here is deftly underscored by the trip to change the hearts and minds of so many who would ignore the facts because they’ve accepted the social norms for far too long.
Intruder is the kind of film that Hollywood used to turn out on a reasonably consistent basis. Any humor – what little there is – in here is really derived more from the characters in their respective circumstances than it is any attempt to derail the central story. The message about racism and its evils might be a bit too obvious for some – perhaps that’s part of why the feature has been largely relegated to the bygone era – and, yes, it does benefit from the angle of its perspective, meaning that it’s largely … well … Caucasian. But the script never engages in any ceremonial drumbeating, the kind of which mostly plagues the modern era of cinema and kinda/sorta disgusts just about anyone who rejects indoctrination or propaganda in their entertainment diet.
While the deservedly chagrined N-word isn’t used as pervasively as, say, the latest rap song, it most definitely is in here; and I suspect that’s played no small role in Intruder being forgotten. It’s only occasionally used as an out-and-out slur (I said what I said, and, no, I’m not sorry) because the characters who do utter it are products of a time when it was equally common as a descriptor instead of a racial epithet. (No, I am most categorically not supporting its appearance in any way: I’m merely trying to frame the film and its story in the context of history.) But like the aforementioned To Kill A Mockingbird, I have read that the Faulkner story and this film have been subjected to a great deal of accelerated scrutiny because it’s in here; and hate – as the past has shown us – always bubbles to the surface whether we like it or not.
“In a small Mississippi town, a teenage boy, his lawyer uncle and an elderly woman combine forces to prevent a miscarriage of justice and clear a black man of a murder charge.”
Chick Mallison (played by Claude Jarman Jr.) is a child of reasonable privilege. As such, he’s inherited a few opinions over the course of his young life largely not because they’re his own but more so because that’s all he’s seen in society. But he’s slowly come to the point in his own education that he’s started to modestly question why things are they way they are; and this awakening is what causes him to take a liking to Lucas Beauchamp (Juano Hernandez), an independent black man – and a landowner – whose act of kindness helped Chick out one day. Our young narrator learns a thing or two about charity when Beauchamp refuses to take the boy’s money simply for doing ‘the right and neighborly thing,’ and the resulting epiphany inevitably changes the way Chick looks at the world around him with all of its goodness and all of its flaws.
So when Mr. Beauchamp is accused of not only shooting a white man but – perhaps even more egregious – shooting him in the back, Chick plunges into his own investigation because he knows such an act would be beyond the older man’s sensibilities. Gradually, our young detective pulls a few family and friends under his wing, even convincing his uncle Gavin (David Brian) to take up the legal defense so that they can gain access to greater information. What the group inevitably uncovers isn’t so much shocking as it is enlightening on how the status quo convicts a man of color despite what would otherwise be circumstantial evidence. But the journey to saving one innocent man’s life here is deftly underscored by the trip to change the hearts and minds of so many who would ignore the facts because they’ve accepted the social norms for far too long.
Intruder is the kind of film that Hollywood used to turn out on a reasonably consistent basis. Any humor – what little there is – in here is really derived more from the characters in their respective circumstances than it is any attempt to derail the central story. The message about racism and its evils might be a bit too obvious for some – perhaps that’s part of why the feature has been largely relegated to the bygone era – and, yes, it does benefit from the angle of its perspective, meaning that it’s largely … well … Caucasian. But the script never engages in any ceremonial drumbeating, the kind of which mostly plagues the modern era of cinema and kinda/sorta disgusts just about anyone who rejects indoctrination or propaganda in their entertainment diet.
While the deservedly chagrined N-word isn’t used as pervasively as, say, the latest rap song, it most definitely is in here; and I suspect that’s played no small role in Intruder being forgotten. It’s only occasionally used as an out-and-out slur (I said what I said, and, no, I’m not sorry) because the characters who do utter it are products of a time when it was equally common as a descriptor instead of a racial epithet. (No, I am most categorically not supporting its appearance in any way: I’m merely trying to frame the film and its story in the context of history.) But like the aforementioned To Kill A Mockingbird, I have read that the Faulkner story and this film have been subjected to a great deal of accelerated scrutiny because it’s in here; and hate – as the past has shown us – always bubbles to the surface whether we like it or not.
Still, what I find sad is that Intruder is a feature I’ve never even heard about; and I say this as one who has done a great deal of reading into older projects. So far as I can tell, it’s damn near been forgotten, a sad testament for an outing that won a 1951 BAFTA Award as well as having been acknowledged by the 1949 National Board Of Review (in the U.S.) among its top ten films of the year. In fact, I could go on regarding the praise it earned during its original release; but methinks you get the point. Some films should be given a pass if (and only if) they’re striving for historical accuracy of whatever racial perspective: if nothing else, such acceptance might promote inclusion in a debate wherein authentic inclusion – right and wrong – truly matter.
If not?
Well … we’ve all had to confront the reality of history repeating itself, haven’t we?
Intruder In The Dust (1949) was produced by Loew’s Incorporated with the film being distributed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the film both looks and sounds exceptional: there’s no information about any upgrading, so this may be the best it ever looks. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few theatrical shorts from the era along with the production’s theatrical trailer. This is one of those occasions in which I wish there were more, but it is what it is.
Highly Recommended.
What pleases me immensely about discovering an old and slightly forgotten classic like Intruder In The Dust (1949) is that it’s a fabulous reminder about a time when stories could be both entertaining but also say something culturally about a time and a place even at great risk. Unfortunately, a lot of the project’s language – the N-word is almost riddled throughout – likely makes this one a difficult prospect for so many; yet, those of us who can temper our moral sensibilities by realizing the depiction of the tale as conceived by Faulkner requires an overt faithfulness will be rewarded by this award-winning depiction of some dark days. A wonderful surprise that deserves to be found again.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Intruder In The Dust (1949) 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
If not?
Well … we’ve all had to confront the reality of history repeating itself, haven’t we?
Intruder In The Dust (1949) was produced by Loew’s Incorporated with the film being distributed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the film both looks and sounds exceptional: there’s no information about any upgrading, so this may be the best it ever looks. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few theatrical shorts from the era along with the production’s theatrical trailer. This is one of those occasions in which I wish there were more, but it is what it is.
Highly Recommended.
What pleases me immensely about discovering an old and slightly forgotten classic like Intruder In The Dust (1949) is that it’s a fabulous reminder about a time when stories could be both entertaining but also say something culturally about a time and a place even at great risk. Unfortunately, a lot of the project’s language – the N-word is almost riddled throughout – likely makes this one a difficult prospect for so many; yet, those of us who can temper our moral sensibilities by realizing the depiction of the tale as conceived by Faulkner requires an overt faithfulness will be rewarded by this award-winning depiction of some dark days. A wonderful surprise that deserves to be found again.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Intruder In The Dust (1949) 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