The late Betty Friedan was an American feminist who across her lifetime both studied and wrote about issues facing women throughout the ages.
Though her cultural popularity truly didn’t begin until the early 1960’s with the publication of her book The Feminine Mystique, a great deal of her thought, evaluation, and research involving gender evolved over the course of the 1940’s and 1950’s as she examined issues affecting women. It was during this time that she noticed what she called ‘the problem that has no name,’ a phenomenon impacting the fairer sex over society’s requirement that they find contentment largely as wives and mothers. Friedan argued that this stressor led to female struggles with isolation; and women everywhere – rather than confront this cause and effect head-on – instead chose to internalize such frustrations, sometimes resulting in the development of larger psychological problems. Such limiting expectations kept half of our society from achieving personal and professional fulfillment, and the author called upon all of mankind to essentially ‘do better.’
Often times, it’s this feminist backdrop that a great many critics and academics examine 1958’s Attack Of The 50 Ft Woman.
Directed by genre regular Nathan Juran (under the pseudonym of Nathan Hertz) from a story by Mark Hanna (who penned the script for The Amazing Colossal Man just a year earlier), Attack tells the story of Nancy Archer. As the wealthy matriarch of a small California town, she deliberately makes her own struggles with mental and substance abuse the talk of the town as well as she draws attention to the ongoing shenanigans of her openly philanderous husband Harry. As some insist, perhaps it’s her own frailty that serves as the catalyst for Nancy being so susceptible to the inevitable change of growing 50 foot tall and extracting personal revenge. Perhaps it’s that female desire to break out of the preconceived molds that society has placed upon her shoulders – those that Friedan wrote about – which ultimately causes her pained, lumbering rampage in the film’s closing moments.
The truth here might just be that – like beauty – the message is in the eye of the beholder. Though the lady clearly rebels against the victimhood she suffers, it’s that same rebellion which leads to her downfall. In this story, man isn’t so much the enemy as is, say, electricity; and onlookers were likely sympathetic over dear ol’ hubby Harry’s death given the fact that his wife had grown to be a bit of a handful … a 50-foot vengeful handful, at that. Also, the fact that all of this – the circumstances, the battle of the sexes, the alien craft, and very poor-quality special effects, etc. – were rendered in such a way to mimic ‘high camp’ kinda/sorta removes any thunderingly thematic seriousness from the equation whatsoever.
Though her cultural popularity truly didn’t begin until the early 1960’s with the publication of her book The Feminine Mystique, a great deal of her thought, evaluation, and research involving gender evolved over the course of the 1940’s and 1950’s as she examined issues affecting women. It was during this time that she noticed what she called ‘the problem that has no name,’ a phenomenon impacting the fairer sex over society’s requirement that they find contentment largely as wives and mothers. Friedan argued that this stressor led to female struggles with isolation; and women everywhere – rather than confront this cause and effect head-on – instead chose to internalize such frustrations, sometimes resulting in the development of larger psychological problems. Such limiting expectations kept half of our society from achieving personal and professional fulfillment, and the author called upon all of mankind to essentially ‘do better.’
Often times, it’s this feminist backdrop that a great many critics and academics examine 1958’s Attack Of The 50 Ft Woman.
Directed by genre regular Nathan Juran (under the pseudonym of Nathan Hertz) from a story by Mark Hanna (who penned the script for The Amazing Colossal Man just a year earlier), Attack tells the story of Nancy Archer. As the wealthy matriarch of a small California town, she deliberately makes her own struggles with mental and substance abuse the talk of the town as well as she draws attention to the ongoing shenanigans of her openly philanderous husband Harry. As some insist, perhaps it’s her own frailty that serves as the catalyst for Nancy being so susceptible to the inevitable change of growing 50 foot tall and extracting personal revenge. Perhaps it’s that female desire to break out of the preconceived molds that society has placed upon her shoulders – those that Friedan wrote about – which ultimately causes her pained, lumbering rampage in the film’s closing moments.
The truth here might just be that – like beauty – the message is in the eye of the beholder. Though the lady clearly rebels against the victimhood she suffers, it’s that same rebellion which leads to her downfall. In this story, man isn’t so much the enemy as is, say, electricity; and onlookers were likely sympathetic over dear ol’ hubby Harry’s death given the fact that his wife had grown to be a bit of a handful … a 50-foot vengeful handful, at that. Also, the fact that all of this – the circumstances, the battle of the sexes, the alien craft, and very poor-quality special effects, etc. – were rendered in such a way to mimic ‘high camp’ kinda/sorta removes any thunderingly thematic seriousness from the equation whatsoever.
(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 an abused socialite grows to giant size because of an alien encounter and an aborted murder attempt, she goes after her cheating husband with revenge on her mind.”
The truth is that even bad films can have good ideas. By ‘good ideas,’ no one is insisting that everyone could, would, and should agree; rather, it’s only to suggest that there might be some nugget of insight or some inspiration taken from an admittedly unimaginative story that’s still worth considering. Often times, these shrewd ideas weren’t necessarily the invention or intention of the film’s writer or director. Instead, they get attached by the audiences who see the picture, and they wind up championing it for what could be personal or cultural observations.
That – and a whole lot of unplanned comedy – is why a feature like Attack Of The 50 Ft Woman – and others like it – find life beyond the weight of the canisters that held the original print. It transcends the mundane even though it, frankly, is probably an effort best left to some of the screen’s worst attempts. It’s so bad it’s good. It’s so good that it’s sometimes awful. Men may see a testament to embodiment of female rage, seeing their worst fears brought to life on the silver screen for the first time. Ladies may notice the subtle dangers of unchecked misogyny or even the greater dangers of a society neglecting the needs of women for far too long. Feminists may’ve interpreted the plight of Nancy Archer (played by the luminous Allison Hayes) as a parable for empowerment.
Whatever the case, nothing excuses the fact that it’s a tale that’s – ahem – patently absurd.
After catching her husband Harry (William Hudson) making eyes at the town floozy Honey Parker (Playboy’s 1959 July Playmate of the Month Yvette Vickers), Nancy races for the safety of home only to swerve from a massive glowing orb landed in the roadway. She gets out of the car to investigate and is suddenly manhandled by a giant alien who reaches out to her. Terrified, she turns and runs all the way back to town where Sheriff Dubbitt (George Douglas) and Deputy Charlie (Frank Chase) – knowing she pays the tax bills on behalf of the entire county – agree to escort her home. On the way, they give the UFO landing site and her story a cursory investigation, believing that she’s more likely ‘on the bottle’ again or suffering one of her well-documented mental breakdowns.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When an abused socialite grows to giant size because of an alien encounter and an aborted murder attempt, she goes after her cheating husband with revenge on her mind.”
The truth is that even bad films can have good ideas. By ‘good ideas,’ no one is insisting that everyone could, would, and should agree; rather, it’s only to suggest that there might be some nugget of insight or some inspiration taken from an admittedly unimaginative story that’s still worth considering. Often times, these shrewd ideas weren’t necessarily the invention or intention of the film’s writer or director. Instead, they get attached by the audiences who see the picture, and they wind up championing it for what could be personal or cultural observations.
That – and a whole lot of unplanned comedy – is why a feature like Attack Of The 50 Ft Woman – and others like it – find life beyond the weight of the canisters that held the original print. It transcends the mundane even though it, frankly, is probably an effort best left to some of the screen’s worst attempts. It’s so bad it’s good. It’s so good that it’s sometimes awful. Men may see a testament to embodiment of female rage, seeing their worst fears brought to life on the silver screen for the first time. Ladies may notice the subtle dangers of unchecked misogyny or even the greater dangers of a society neglecting the needs of women for far too long. Feminists may’ve interpreted the plight of Nancy Archer (played by the luminous Allison Hayes) as a parable for empowerment.
Whatever the case, nothing excuses the fact that it’s a tale that’s – ahem – patently absurd.
After catching her husband Harry (William Hudson) making eyes at the town floozy Honey Parker (Playboy’s 1959 July Playmate of the Month Yvette Vickers), Nancy races for the safety of home only to swerve from a massive glowing orb landed in the roadway. She gets out of the car to investigate and is suddenly manhandled by a giant alien who reaches out to her. Terrified, she turns and runs all the way back to town where Sheriff Dubbitt (George Douglas) and Deputy Charlie (Frank Chase) – knowing she pays the tax bills on behalf of the entire county – agree to escort her home. On the way, they give the UFO landing site and her story a cursory investigation, believing that she’s more likely ‘on the bottle’ again or suffering one of her well-documented mental breakdowns.
When news of his wife’s otherworldly encounter reaches Harry, he and Honey realize that this might be their way to finally be together: by painting Nancy’s incident as another psychological episode, they can have to recommitted to the nearby sanitarium, leaving the lady’s $50M estate in their hands as custodians. They’ll seize her wealth for their own purposes and disappear into the sunset to live happily ever after elsewhere. Nancy will become a responsibility of the state, and no one will ever hear from her again.
Back at home, Nancy’s faithful butler Jess (Ken Terrell) begins to suspect Harry’s duplicitousness, and he repeatedly tries to rescue his benefactor for his clutches. Not long after the unfaithful husband abandons his wife with the gigantic alien upon her second encounter, Jess joins forces with the sheriff to save Nancy; but before they can find her they’re chased off by the ship’s gargantuan pilot. Lo and behold, the lady has returned to her house, but – infected by space radiation – she’s begun to grow beyond the conventional dimensions. Before long, she’s a tall drink of water, indeed, and she’s intent on directing her personal animus at both Honey and Harry. Marching into town, she rips the roof off the corner bar, kills the mistress, grabs her spouse in her clutches, and lumbers into a nearby power line which kills the pair of them with a little help from the sheriff.
Among the many problems plaguing Attack – far too many to mention – is the fact that on its budget of circa $86,000 there really was no capital for even modestly believable special effects. To Juran’s credit, he capitalized on Hanna’s script by limiting the bulk of his spectacle to the final reel, making roughly the closing 10 minutes of a 66-minute feature to the money shots. Sadly, a great deal of them end up rendering Hayes in a tall but mostly transparent state; so the end result is exceedingly underwhelming. There are a few shots with miniatures that work a bit better; and yet it’s hard to overcome the utter schlock that services as the best the production team could afford. It’s easy to see why so many consider the film a Camp/Cult Classic because that’s essentially what survives these decades later.
Back at home, Nancy’s faithful butler Jess (Ken Terrell) begins to suspect Harry’s duplicitousness, and he repeatedly tries to rescue his benefactor for his clutches. Not long after the unfaithful husband abandons his wife with the gigantic alien upon her second encounter, Jess joins forces with the sheriff to save Nancy; but before they can find her they’re chased off by the ship’s gargantuan pilot. Lo and behold, the lady has returned to her house, but – infected by space radiation – she’s begun to grow beyond the conventional dimensions. Before long, she’s a tall drink of water, indeed, and she’s intent on directing her personal animus at both Honey and Harry. Marching into town, she rips the roof off the corner bar, kills the mistress, grabs her spouse in her clutches, and lumbers into a nearby power line which kills the pair of them with a little help from the sheriff.
Among the many problems plaguing Attack – far too many to mention – is the fact that on its budget of circa $86,000 there really was no capital for even modestly believable special effects. To Juran’s credit, he capitalized on Hanna’s script by limiting the bulk of his spectacle to the final reel, making roughly the closing 10 minutes of a 66-minute feature to the money shots. Sadly, a great deal of them end up rendering Hayes in a tall but mostly transparent state; so the end result is exceedingly underwhelming. There are a few shots with miniatures that work a bit better; and yet it’s hard to overcome the utter schlock that services as the best the production team could afford. It’s easy to see why so many consider the film a Camp/Cult Classic because that’s essentially what survives these decades later.
About the best that can be said for the picture is that – while heavily flawed – it still manages to dish out performances that work only so far as the script intended. Hayes vacillates between love, frustration, and hate reasonably well – she had truly made a mark in B-Movies already – and she makes for a compelling enough centerpiece to ground the flick when needed. Similarly, Vickers manages to fill the shoes of a pretty yet conniving shrew who has her hooks into a man with access to money, and she’s entirely unwilling to relinquish her hold on him: he’s her ticket to a better life, and that has to count for something, especially in Smalltown Anywhere, U.S.A. Hudson is about as slimy as slime goes, and the actor keeps audiences up-to-date on his devious intentions: just when you think he could be growing a heart, he snuffs out any chance at redemption of his own accord.
In fact, one might suggest that Attack flourishes in much the same way a great many Film Noirs of the era did: there’s surprisingly no admirable, relatable, or redeemable character in here anywhere. The sheriff’s motivations are suspect – as are his deputy’s by association – and even the medical professionals called to the scene to aid Nancy in her transition from small to big don’t appear all that much interested in their patient’s true state, somehow keeping a 50-foot woman sedated and sheltered away magically in the estate’s master bedroom. What’s a lady gotta do in this town to get a breath of fresh air? About the closest one comes to a sense of nobility and/or responsibility is the butler Jess, but even he’s eventually shown as powerless against the other stronger males and the social structure that paints him as marginal. Attack is surprisingly void of a protagonist; and yet there are antagonists to spare. Curiously, that in itself is a notable accomplishment.
Because of when it was made and released, Attack was a modest box office hit. The 1950’s paved the way for a good number of giant monster movies. A good portion of the ticket buyers were allegedly moved to see it on the silver screen because of its theatrical poster: the one-sheet – rumored to be one of the most popular in all of filmdom – depicted a well-over-50-foot scantily clad Hayes wreaking havoc on some freeway overpass, clutching cars and throwing them about in heated destruction. Mind you, none of this action was actually seen in the completed film, so chalk up a huge win for the folks in the advertising department for doing their part to generate buzz amongst the masses. Google.com reports that the studio enjoyed a half-million dollar return on their modest investment, and there were even talks about a possible sequel. None happened, and perhaps we’re all the better for that.
In fact, one might suggest that Attack flourishes in much the same way a great many Film Noirs of the era did: there’s surprisingly no admirable, relatable, or redeemable character in here anywhere. The sheriff’s motivations are suspect – as are his deputy’s by association – and even the medical professionals called to the scene to aid Nancy in her transition from small to big don’t appear all that much interested in their patient’s true state, somehow keeping a 50-foot woman sedated and sheltered away magically in the estate’s master bedroom. What’s a lady gotta do in this town to get a breath of fresh air? About the closest one comes to a sense of nobility and/or responsibility is the butler Jess, but even he’s eventually shown as powerless against the other stronger males and the social structure that paints him as marginal. Attack is surprisingly void of a protagonist; and yet there are antagonists to spare. Curiously, that in itself is a notable accomplishment.
Because of when it was made and released, Attack was a modest box office hit. The 1950’s paved the way for a good number of giant monster movies. A good portion of the ticket buyers were allegedly moved to see it on the silver screen because of its theatrical poster: the one-sheet – rumored to be one of the most popular in all of filmdom – depicted a well-over-50-foot scantily clad Hayes wreaking havoc on some freeway overpass, clutching cars and throwing them about in heated destruction. Mind you, none of this action was actually seen in the completed film, so chalk up a huge win for the folks in the advertising department for doing their part to generate buzz amongst the masses. Google.com reports that the studio enjoyed a half-million dollar return on their modest investment, and there were even talks about a possible sequel. None happened, and perhaps we’re all the better for that.
Attack Of The 50 Ft. Woman (1958) was produced by Woolner Brothers Pictures. 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 attest that – only a fundamental level – this might be as good as the flick has ever looked and sounded … and that isn’t exactly implying high praise. The obvious inferiority of the special effects is only more pronounced in these sequences, so please please please go into it knowing you’re not getting filmdom’s finest moments. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a commentary track which I believe was produced for the studio’s 2022 previous release; and it’s mildly informative.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended … but it’s still worth the view for laughs alone!
In a small town, Nancy Archer was a big lady (in more ways than one), but even she eventually succumbs to the dangers of her own bloated size in Attack Of The 50 Ft. Woman. The film remains a testament to why cult movies become cult: they’re not necessarily well made – nor compellingly told – and yet they still manage to say something strongly enough to make audiences take note despite the obvious cringe in the manner of presentation. On so many levels, the film is plain silly; but it’s easy to contend why it’s also the kind of thing which needs to be seen to be truly believed and appreciated.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Attack Of The 50 Ft. Woman (1958) – as part of their 50’s Sci-Fi Collection – 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
Alas … only Mildly Recommended … but it’s still worth the view for laughs alone!
In a small town, Nancy Archer was a big lady (in more ways than one), but even she eventually succumbs to the dangers of her own bloated size in Attack Of The 50 Ft. Woman. The film remains a testament to why cult movies become cult: they’re not necessarily well made – nor compellingly told – and yet they still manage to say something strongly enough to make audiences take note despite the obvious cringe in the manner of presentation. On so many levels, the film is plain silly; but it’s easy to contend why it’s also the kind of thing which needs to be seen to be truly believed and appreciated.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Attack Of The 50 Ft. Woman (1958) – as part of their 50’s Sci-Fi Collection – 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
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