Saturday, February 22, 2025

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman

 

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman Poster

(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

Giant Nancy Archer

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

Alien Tries to Grab Nancy

“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.

 

Honey and Harry

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.

Harry, Honey and Deputy Charlie

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.

Giant Space Alien

 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.

Nancy Trashes the Bar/Hotel

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)

 

 

Monday, February 17, 2025

Short Take: Attack of the Puppet People

 

Attack of the Puppet People Poster

(1958) Directed by Bert I. Gordon; Written by George Worthing Yates and Bert I. Gordon; Starring: John Agar, John Hoyt, June Kenney, Michael Mark, Jack Kosslyn, Marlene Willis, Ken Miller and Laurie Mitchell; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: **½ 

Puppet People in a Suitcase

“It’s a tongue-in-cheek production aimed at teenagers, with light and humorous elements included to offset some of its more terrifying aspects.” – Bert I. Gordon (Excerpt from Famous Monsters of Filmland, No 14, 1958) 

Where would ‘50s sci-fi be without Bert I. Gordon (B.I.G.)? As a purveyor of films with super-sized people and creatures (an obsession that lasted well into the ‘70s), size always makes a difference in B.I.G.’s world. After gracing the silver screen with giant locusts, a colossal man and a cyclops,* it was only a matter of time before he veered off into the opposite direction, exploring the possibilities of miniaturization with Attack of the Puppet People

* Fun Fact #1: In many theaters, Attack of the Puppet People played on a double-bill with another B.I.G. title, War of the Colossal Beast (1958).

Mr. Franz Looms Over Sally and Bob

Mild-mannered Mr. Franz (John Hoyt) runs a modest dollmaking business, “Dolls Incorporated,” where he creates lifelike figures, much to the delight of kids everywhere.  But Mr. Franz has a side-project that he keeps locked away in a secret workroom, concealed from prying eyes. Like all employers, he has to contend with attrition, but the Department of Labor would probably frown upon his coping mechanism. When his new receptionist Sally Reynolds (June Kenney) and traveling salesman Bob Westley (John Agar)* decide to elope, he ensures they won’t get very far, by shrinking them to doll size** and adding them to his private collection.   

* Fun Fact #2: Watch for a bit of shameless self-promotion from B.I.G., in the scene where Sally and Bob enjoy a drive-in movie while discussing their relationship plans: Gordon’s own The Amazing Colossal Man (1957). 

** Fun Fact #3: Most of the oversized (albeit inconsistently scaled) props were created by the husband/wife team of Paul and Jackie Blaisdell.

Puppet Peope Tidy Up

Ever since his wife left him for another man years ago, Mr. Franz has been haunted by the prospect of being alone the rest of his life. Instead of joining a club or embarking on a singles cruise, he decides to create his own friends. The movie never clarifies how a career in dollmaking would prepare Mr. Franz to build a shrinking machine, but there you have it. As one would expect, the science is dubious at best: He likens the invention to a projector that makes an image larger or smaller, aided by high frequency waves.* A groundbreaking discovery such as this would be worthy of a Nobel prize, but he uses it solely to create his private fiefdom, storing the miniature people in cylinders. Eventually, the trail of missing people leads to his business, with his non-confrontational nature proving to be his undoing. His plans are ultimately thwarted by his annoying old friend Emil (Michael Mark), a snooping detective (Jack Kosslyn) and a plucky brownie scout who can’t seem to keep her doll’s head attached. 

* Fun Fact #4: In an intriguing but abandoned concept from the original script, Mr. Franz keeps cylinders of his rejects (blurred and distorted shrunken people), the result of failing to focus his machine properly, as a constant reminder of his mistakes.

Sally Shrieks at Giant Phone

The film’s title* is a misnomer, since it isn’t the puppet people that are doing the attacking, but the puppeteer himself. As an antagonist, Mr. Franz is rather anemic, seemingly more pathetic than menacing (His troubles probably could have been averted by therapy, creating boundaries, and learning to say “No” on a regular basis, but what would the fun be in that?). Although Puppet People** may not rank among Gordon’s better efforts, it’s fair to state that without B.I.G., the 1950s would have been appreciably less silly. After he directed the last film in his American International contract, Earth vs. the Spider (1958), B.I.G. claimed in an interview it was his last sci-fi/horror movie. Thankfully, for B-movie fans everywhere, his obsession with supersized creatures didn’t end there, as he later graced the silver screen with Village of the Giants (1965), The Food of the Gods (1976), and Empire of the Ants (1977). 

* Fun Fact #5: For the record, the movie’s original title was The Fantastic Puppet People

** Fun Fact #6: The film was shot by cinematographer Ernest Laszlo, who would go on to win an Academy award for Ship of Fools (1965) as well as an Oscar nomination for Fantastic Voyage (1966).

 

Source for this article: DVD commentary by Tom Weaver

 

 

Monday, February 10, 2025

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

 

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes Poster

(1978) Directed by John De Bello; Written by Costa Dillon, John De Bello and J. Stephen Peace; Starring: Cindy Charles, David Miller, Eric Christmas, J. Stephen Peace and Sharon Taylor; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ***

Woman with Shopping Cart Chased by Giant Tomato

“…People often ask me how did I come up with this idea for killer tomatoes, and I can actually remember, they used to show Saturday afternoon science fiction/horror movies on regular TV before cable, watching Attack of the Mushroom People, a wonderful Japanese film that I later determined was not a documentary… It was supposed to be a horror movie, and I thought what could actually be sillier than that – mushroom people? And for some reason tomatoes popped up first.” – Costa Dillon (co-writer/actor) (from 2003 DVD commentary) 

PR Presentation

The 1970s were the golden era of disaster and “nature strikes back” movies, making audiences afraid to visit skyscrapers, go to the beach, or enjoy a transatlantic cruise. During that tumultuous decade, virtually anything that could be exploited as a threat was depicted on the silver screen, no matter how unlikely or ridiculous. If sharks, rats, rabbits and even worms could pose a threat to humanity’s existence, then why not common household produce? Taking this loopy premise to its illogical conclusion, director/co-writer John De Bello and his partners in crime set out to produce their disaster comedy on an estimated budget of $90,000.* 

* Fun Fact #1: The helicopter crash featured in the movie was the real thing. The individuals involved in the crash thankfully walked away (and even managed some ad libs), so the filmmakers kept the scene in the film. De Bello joked that the wrecked helicopter cost more than the rest of the movie.       

The Authorities Assemble

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes is not so much a story as a string of gags. Following several unprovoked attacks on U.S. citizens, the country’s top minds assemble to assess the emerging tomato threat.* They enlist bumbling federal investigator Mason Dixon (David Miller) accompanied by his equally inept sidekick Lt. Wilbur Finletter (played by co-writer J. Stephen Peace), to help stamp out the red menace. ** They’re followed by a snooping reporter (Sharon Taylor), who’s egged on by her editor to use her feminine wiles to get a scoop. When things appear to be at their worst, the authorities discover a novel solution to combat the tomato menace: an insipid pop song*** that proves to be lethal (If this sounds familiar, the idea was recycled, either intentionally or via the collective unconscious, by Tim Burton in 1996’s Mars Attacks!). For the climactic showdown at San Diego Stadium (now Qualcomm Stadium), the filmmakers must have called everyone they knew (and probably pulled some random folks off the street), including a cameo by the famous San Diego Chicken mascot. 

* Fun Fact #2: If the scene where the government officials gather in an impossibly tiny, cramped room looks familiar, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. De Bello admitted that he copied a scene from the Marx Brothers classic, A Night at the Opera (1935). 

** Fun Fact #3: For the scenes where tomatoes needed to splat against glass, the filmmakers used boiled tomatoes. 

*** Fun Fact #4: The infectiously awful song “Puberty Love” was sung by a young Matt Cameron (listed in the credits as “Foo” Cameron), who went on to become the drummer for Soundgarden and Pearl Jam.

Attack in the Produce Aisle

The comedic elements in the movie (ranging from the merely tasteless to downright offensive) are of the “let’s throw it at the wall and see what sticks” variety, so it’s inevitably a hit-and-miss affair. While the jokes never quite rise above sophomoric, the obnoxious junior high schooler in me still finds parts of it funny (like the war cry of the angry tomatoes, which at least to my ears, sounds like an incoherent, meth-addled Porky Pig). Another inspired gag is a Japanese scientist (Paul Oya) whose voice is badly dubbed (a nod to kaiju films that played on TV in the ‘60s and ‘70s). In one of the best moments, a government spy (Gary Smith) infiltrates the tomatoes’ command center, disguised as a tomato, but makes a fatal error by asking for someone to pass the ketchup. And who can forget the earworm-worthy title song? Rest easy, because even if you don’t want it there, it’ll be firmly planted in your brain. Unsurprisingly, not all the jokes have worn well. The aforementioned Japanese scientist becomes the butt of a Pearl Harbor joke, there’s an East German female athlete who imbibes steroids, and a homophobic slur is used as a punchline. 

* Fun Fact #5: Twin Peaks fans will want to keep an eye out for a very young Dana Ashbrook in a sailboat scene. 

** Fun Fact #6: The explosions for the film were created by special effects professional Greg Auer, who lent his talents to numerous projects, including Star Wars, The Hills Have Eyes, and Carrie.

Angry Mob

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes has an undeserved reputation for being one of the “worst” movies ever made, but it’s not even close. To paraphrase Roger Ebert, the worst sin a movie can commit is to be boring. Given the “everything but the kitchen sink”* approach, this movie is far from dull (Scatterbrained, amateurish and puerile, but not boring). Some movies, such as this one can’t be labeled “good” and “bad,” but something in-between that defies categorization. Considering the modest budget and slapped-together nature of the film, applying the same metric as one would to Oppenheimer or Lawrence of Arabia to evaluate Attack of the Killer Tomatoes doesn’t seem to be quite fair.* If nothing else, John De Bello’s film, was ahead of its time, warning us about the perils of genetically modified organisms. It spawned three belated sequels, but consider the first movie the last word in homicidal fruit. 

* Note: For those keeping score, a kitchen sink is featured prominently in the opening scene. 

** Nonsensical Tangent: While I’m on the subject of “good” and “bad” films, why are terrible (albeit fun) movies often called “The Citizen Kane of bad movies?” Shouldn’t they be compared to similarly entertaining bad films (i.e., “The Plan 9 from Outer Space of bad movies”)? 

 

Source for this article: MVD Blu-ray commentary by John De Bello, Costa Dillon and J. Steve Peace (2003)

 

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