(1958) Directed by Nathan Juran (Credited as Nathan Hertz); Written
by Mark Hanna; Starring: Allison Hayes, William Hudson, Yvette Vickers, Roy
Gordon, George Douglas and Ken Terrell; Available on Blu-ray and DVD
Rating: ***½
Thanks to Rebecca from Taking Up Room for hosting another edition of the So Bad It’s Good Blogathon, a celebration of the movies that defy conventional criticism, bringing us joy despite their (ahem) shortcomings. Be sure to drop by her website for links to all the participants’ posts about bad movies and the folks who love them. With this in mind, I humbly present to you, dear reader, the crème de la crap of bad movies, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman…
“Every woman in Hollywood thought I was a husband stealer; I
mean, everyone. I would walk into a party or any event and the women would
literally grab their husbands and run the other way, and I always thought, if
they’re that dense in Hollywood, where in the world would I go?” – Yvette
Vickers (from DVD commentary)
Honey Parker (Yvette Vickers): “You're the deputy, do
something!”
Deputy Charlie (Frank Chase): “I can't shoot a lady!”
Adjacent
to the Cold War scares of alien invasions, 1950s audiences were constantly
reminded of the real and perceived dangers of radiation. B-filmmakers made
every effort to exploit its deleterious effects on people and creatures. Nathan
Juran* was no stranger to directing movies about giant things. Besides his work
with Ray Harryhausen (20 Million Miles to Earth and The 7th
Voyage of Sinbad), he directed several television episodes for producer
Irwin Allen (including Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, Lost in Space,
and Land of the Giants). Not content to let men have a monopoly on super-sized
people, Juran and company set their sights on the fairer sex with Attack of
the 50 Foot woman. Under the penny-pinching scrutiny of Woolner Brothers
Pictures, Juran shot around the greater Los Angeles area** in just eight days.
*
Fun Fact #1: Before he directed films, Juran made his name as an art director,
winning an Academy Award for How Green Was My Valley (1941).
**
Fun Fact: #2: Nancy and Harry Archer’s mansion featured in the film was a real
home, located in the Hollywood Hills.
Amidst
a glut of worldwide UFO sightings (inexplicably, the film avoids using the
labels “UFO” or “flying saucer,” instead referring to the mystery object as a
“satellite”), a spherical alien craft makes its presence known in the desert
outskirts of a small California town.* Unfortunately for faded socialite Nancy Archer,
she’s the sole witness to the unusual event, when the craft’s occupant makes a
grab for her diamond necklace.** Wallowing in an endless, self-perpetuating spiral
of depression and alcoholism, she’s become the laughingstock of the town.
Because of the money she brings into the local economy, Sheriff Dubbitt (George
Douglas) does his best to placate Nancy and humor her claim of a close encounter.
If her compromised credibility isn’t enough, she must contend with the town’s worst-kept
secret – Nancy’s gold-digging husband Harry is two-timing her with the
salacious Honey Parker (Yvette Vickers), who lives in a dingy flophouse above Tony’s
Bar. Nancy doesn’t have far to look to find her wayward husband. Considering
the apparent size of the town and her husband’s predilection towards boozing it
up and dancing, it narrows the choices considerably. She returns to the desert
with her doubting husband, proving her assertion about the extraterrestrial
visitor. Harry abandons her in the desert instead of admitting she was right
all along (You’d think his first-hand UFO sighting would have made more of an
impact than simply being a convenient way to get rid of her, but he was
obviously thinking with his “other” brain). Nancy manages to return home, but she’s
so visibly shaken that she’s immediately placed under a doctor’s care.*** Egged
on by Honey, Harry schemes to administer a fatal overdose of medication. But hell
hath no fury like a 50-foot woman scorned, and Nancy isn’t about to take this
lying down. As is usually the case with sci-fi movies from the era, prepare for
a cockamamie explanation involving a combination of radiation and stress (I
surmise) that causes her subsequent rapid growth.
*
Fun Fact #3: In the original script, the town was Calabasas, but it’s never
specified in the movie.
**
Yes, if a money-grubbing husband wasn’t enough, even space aliens want her
diamond.
***
On a side note, you’ve gotta love the screaming nurse trope, expertly illustrated
by Eileen Stevens in the film. I understand that one doesn’t see a woman
enlarged to monstrous proportions every day, but c’mon, show some
professionalism.
Allison
Hayes deserves special mention for her sympathetic portrayal of the chronically
depressed (euphemistically categorized as “exhaustion” in the movie) Nancy
Archer, who’s trapped in a loveless marriage and coddled by everyone else like a
petulant child. The only person in Nancy’s life who seems to genuinely care
about her is her faithful butler Jess Stout (Ken Terrell), who regards her
husband with thinly veiled disdain. It’s easy to see that Vickers* was having
the time of her life, playing the amoral home-wrecker Honey, who vacillates
from being sugary sweet to icily ruthless, frequently in the same scene. Frank
Chase provides some intentional comic relief to the proceedings as the bumbling
sheriff’s deputy Charlie, who isn’t above a bribe or two, to keep things quiet.
Besides his consistently goofy demeanor, he has the honor of delivering one of
the movie’s best lines (see above).
*
Fun Fact #4: In the scene where the rampaging Nancy Archer trashes Tony’s Bar, Honey
is crushed by a heavy wooden beam. Vickers commented that she narrowly avoided
disaster when a large nail sticking out of the beam came within inches of her
neck.
The
not-so-special-effects* are laughable, even by 1950s standards. Thanks to some slapdash
matte effects, the spherical UFO, as well as the giant characters, are
see-through (Then again, Nancy’s motives are rather transparent – drum beat,
please). There’s also an enormous floppy hand, used alternately for the giant
alien and enlarged Nancy (at one point an actor has to help it grab him). In a
later scene, when Nancy lifts Harry in the air, it’s obviously a doll that
someone purchased off a toy store shelf. Likewise, the costume budget seemingly
couldn’t avoid cost-cutting measures, with the giant bald alien visitor** wearing
medieval-esque garb (including the likeness of a bull on his back) that was
likely repurposed from another movie.
*
Fun Fact #5: In all fairness, the film’s effects budget was always a sore point
with Juran, who fought with the producers for more money – but ultimately lost.
According to film historian Tom Weaver, who watched the director speak at a
convention, Juran was still irritated by the slight, four decades later.
**
Fun Fact #6: Tony the barkeep and the somewhat perplexed giant alien were
played by the same actor, Michael Ross.
Despite
the movie’s inevitable tragic ending, I imagine some alternate universe version
of Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, where the giant Mr. Clean alien is so
smitten by her, she willingly accompanies him into his spaceship, and they fly
off together to his home planet and live happily ever after (I guess I’m just a
romantic at heart). The Warner Archive DVD features a fun commentary by star
Yvette Vickers (along with Tom Weaver), who provides some nice insight about
the making of the film and her acting career in general. Blending melodrama with
sci-fi hokum and a sympathetic anti-heroine, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman
is a cautionary tale for would-be philandering partners everywhere. If there’s the
equivalent of the Academy Awards for superior bad movies, this movie would proudly
stand at the top of the heap.
*
Not-So-Fun-Fact: On a sad note, Ms. Vickers passed away only a few years after
her DVD commentary. For those with morbid curiosity, you can learn about the
strange and macabre details surrounding Vickers’ death here.
Sources
for this article: DVD commentary by Yvette Vickers and Tom Weaver (2007)
