Puppet Month Quick Picks and Pans

 

Shari and Lamb Chop (2023) Lisa D'Apolito’s documentary is an affectionate ode to the career of pioneering children’s television host and ventriloquist Shari Lewis from her early days through her twilight years. Encouraged at a young age by her magician father and musician mother, Lewis developed her own act, eventually leading to a live television show, featuring Lamb Chop and her other puppet pals. D’Apolito delves into Lewis’ personal life, albeit not too deeply, choosing instead to focus on her many talents and decades-long career. We learn more about Lewis herself, through archival footage, as well as interviews with some of the individuals who knew her best, including her daughter Mallory. It’s an affecting portrait of a consummate performer who persisted through ups and downs, to entertain generations of children and adults. 

Rating: ***½. Available on DVD and Kanopy 

Devil Doll (1964) Ace journalist Marianne Horn (Yvonne Romain) and her editor/boyfriend Mark English (William Sylvester) investigate mesmerist The Great Vorelli (Bryant Haliday), who possesses an uncanny ability to hypnotize audience members. Part of Vorelli’s act involves a ventriloquist routine with his creepy dummy Hugo (particularly disturbing is a scene when he makes the inanimate puppet stand up on its own). Things go from bad to worse when she falls under Vorelli’s control, much to the dismay of Mark. The film is filled with unnerving moments, with palpable tension between ventriloquist and dummy. Will Hugo obey his master, or is the master a slave to Hugo? The film succeeds, largely due to Haliday’s excellent performance as the deranged Vorelli, incapable of having a relationship with a woman that doesn’t involve some form of coercion.

Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray, Prime Video and Tubi

Legend of the Sacred Stone (2000) In this fast-paced Taiwanese movie by writer/director Chris Huang, martial arts masters from around the region are recruited to keep a mystical stone from falling into the wrong hands. The fight scenes are surprisingly believable, thanks to a skillful combination of puppetry, swift editing, and CGI enhancement. Huang’s visually stunning film is hindered only by the thin story and expressionless puppet faces. These are minor quibbles, however, when the film looks this good.

Rating: ***. Available on DVD (Import)

Head (2015) Not to be confused with the trippy 1968 Monkees movie with the same name, this mildly amusing slasher/comedy might be worth a look. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: a group of aimless, horny 20-somethings go camping in the same woods where a series of grisly murders took place. Now they’re struggling to survive as their friends are picked off, one-by-one. But here’s the twist: They’re all puppets. Filled with loads of puppet sex and gore, you can’t blame director/co-writer Jon Bristol from trying to keep us entertained. Despite the cheap production values and hackneyed script, it’s hard not to admire the effort on a certain level. 

Rating **½ stars. Available on DVD and Tubi

Let My Puppets Come (1976) Hoo-boy… Where to start with this one? Perhaps no other movie from the ‘70s so thoroughly embodied that weird and wonderful decade’s try-anything approach. Of course (to paraphrase a line from Jurassic Park), just because they could doesn’t mean they should have attempted a softcore porn film filled with puppets. If you can’t resist the urge to see this (hey, I’m not stopping you), be aware that there are two versions floating around: the original 75-minute cut, and the heavily edited 45-minute version. 

Fun Fact: Among the composers who contributed to the soundtrack is the multi-Academy Award-nominated Alan Silvestri (Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Back to the Future, The Abyss, and many more), who’d probably prefer if you didn’t know about his involvement with this movie. 

Rating: **. Available on Blu-ray (Out of Print) and other, less-reputable sources (Don’t ask).

Black Devil Doll from Hell (1984) Not to be confused with 1964’s Devil Doll (see review above), this shot-on-video wonder from producer/writer/director/composer Chester N. Turner is a head-scratcher. While poking around a second-hand shop, Helen Black (Shirley L. Jones), a devout young woman, discovers a ventriloquist’s dummy with dreadlocks. She inexplicably takes it home, despite a warning from the shopkeeper that it always finds its way back to the store. According to the backstory, the doll, which originated from the West Indies, could grant someone’s deepest desire. Of course, the last bit is just an excuse to make the dummy a sex maniac. Now, the once-virginal Helen can’t get enough of his special kind of lovin.’ Black Devil Doll from Hell is cheap, lewd, and unpleasant. Is it so bad it’s good, or just plain bad? I’ll let you be the judge, but if you decide to see it, don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

Rating *½. Available on DVD (Out of Print) and Internet Archive

 

 

Meet the Feebles

(1989) Directed by Peter Jackson; Written by: Fran Walsh, Stephen Sinclair, Danny Mulheron, and Peter Jackson; Starring: Danny Mulheron, Donna Akersten, Stuart Devenie Mark Hadlow and Ross Jolly. Available on DVD.

Rating: ***½

Note: Back in 2018, Peter Jackson announced that he was supervising the 4K transfers of his early works, including Meet the Feebles. Sadly, we have yet to enjoy the fruits of his labor in UHD (as nature intended) or HD. As a result, I hope you’ll excuse the shoddy quality of the screenshots below, taken from a (presumably) gray market DVD.     

“If we’re satirizing anything it’s the squeamishness of people, breaking taboos – but just for fun. Using puppets allowed us to do a lot of things I never would have tried with humans, we got away with murder, and made a lot of people blind to the film’s subversivness. But some found it sacrilegious to make an adult puppet film with sex and splatter violence.” – Peter Jackson (excerpt from 1992 Film Threat interview)

“I had a phone call recently from a couple of people in Los Angeles who had seen the film the night before and they were talking about the fly: ‘We were just assuming it was some really nice blue-screen work and motion control,’ and I said, ‘No, we just dragged it on the end of a piece of string.”’ – Peter Jackson (excerpt from 1990 interview)

If you ever watched The Muppet Show and wondered why it didn’t have more sex, scatological humor, and general nastiness, my first question would be, what’s wrong with you? On second thought, I might have exactly what you’re seeking. How do you follow up a debut called Bad Taste (1987), which suitably lived up to its title? With something even more objectionable, of course. Director/co-writer/camera operator Peter Jackson’s sophomore effort, Meet the Feebles*/** was promoted with the tagline: “The adult puppet movie with something to offend everybody!” In this case, it’s not an idle boast, featuring every imaginable form of effluvia (Yes, even THAT) leaking from every orifice for your stomach-turning pleasure. Filmed over 12 weeks for an estimated $750,000 (NZD),*** Jackson and crew used an abandoned railway shed in Wellington as their base of operations. When production went over-budget and over-schedule, the crew were pressed to complete the film with deferred salaries. 

* Fun Fact #1: Meet the Feebles wasn’t originally intended to be a feature film, but a 30-minute (or 20-minute according to another article) short for a proposed New Zealand television show, Uncle Herman’s Bedtime Whoppers. 

** Fun Fact #2: Meet the Feebles marks the first of many collaborations with Jackson’s longtime creative and life partner, Fran Walsh (who met Jackson during a screening of Bad Taste). 

*** Fun Fact #3: Although partially funded by a Japanese distribution company, it was mostly paid for with money from the New Zealand Film Commission. When the Commission reviewed a copy of the script, they subsequently pulled funding for Jackson’s movie (which they later reconsidered).

Meet the Feebles chronicles a day in the life of a troupe of performers in a variety show, leading up to their big TV debut. As with all good backstage dramas, it provides a warts-and-all peek behind the curtains, with a collection of scandals that would make Kenneth Anger blush. The show’s producer, an unscrupulous walrus named Bletch, has his fingers in several pies, including cheating on his slightly over-the-hill girlfriend Heidi the Hippo with a petite feline ingenue, while running a drug ring on the side. He’s accompanied by his sleazy henchman/enforcer Trevor (a rat who sounds like Peter Lorre), who has a side-business of his own, making porn and snuff films. Meanwhile, star performer Harry the Hare has contracted a deadly STD (aka: “The Big One”),* with his doctor (appropriately named Dr. Quack) informing him he only has several hours left to live. Add to the mix Sid the Elephant, who’s slapped with a paternity lawsuit by his chicken ex-girlfriend (Guess what the baby looks like?). Basking in the glow of all these trespasses and tragedies is a muckraker journalist fly,** gleefully compiling material for his tabloid. The only character in this frenzied, backstabbing soap opera who appears to be innocent of any wrongdoing is naïve young performer, Robert the Hedgehog,*** who serves as our guide to the ensuing insanity. 

* Fun Fact #4: According to a couple of articles, Harry is suffering from an acute form of myxomatosis, a potentially fatal disease that affects rabbits. 

** Fun Fact #5: According to Jackson, “The way I try to deflate that scene with humour is that he’s eating the shit with a nice silver spoon and he has this really funny line of dialogue. Ninety-nine per cent of people won’t hear that line because they’ll be far too busy freaking out.” 

*** Fun Fact #6: The Robert puppet required up to five operators for body movement as well as facial expressions.

Although Jackson insisted none of the puppets were intended to be direct parodies of specific Muppets (something he probably said to keep Jim Henson’s lawyers appeased), it’s impossible not to see the multiple parallels in the chaotic behind-the-scenes drama. Heidi the Hippo is analogous to Miss Piggy, down to her flair for diva antics. The knife-throwing Wynard the Frog, a chronic PTSD sufferer and heroin addict, seems to be an amalgamation of Muppets Signor Baffi and Lew Zealand (we learn more about his traumatic past, with a flashback parody of The Deer Hunter, containing some ill-advised Asian stereotype rodents). Another famous Muppet makes a stealth appearance when Harry the Hare (hoping to make it through the night’s performance) prays to a frog on a cross. Another unmistakable nod to The Muppet Show are the film’s various musical numbers, including the jaunty title track, Heidi’s schmaltzy “Garden of Love,” and Blech’s stage director Sebastian’s would be show-stopper, “Sodomy” (Did I mention this film is anything but subtle?).

It’s hard to believe that the road to Jackson’s runaway commercial success with the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit franchises was paved with such early works as Meet the Feebles, when a “try anything” approach ruled the day (and try anything, he did). If Jackson had never experimented with throwing stuff at the wall to see what stuck, it’s questionable that he would have adequately refined his filmmaking skills. Given the time, resources and budget, it’s a minor miracle that Jackson and company were able to create such an impressive array of Mup- (Ahem!) Feebles. As strange as it may seem, the film’s numerous creations* were a dress rehearsal for the many wondrous Wētā Workshop** creatures and effects that would follow. Compared to his considerably more polished later films, Meet the Feebles is crude, tasteless, and scattershot. It’s also quite funny, forcing audiences to laugh despite their better nature. We may never see anything like it again, which is, perhaps, at once a shame and a relief. 

* Fun Fact #7: Cameron Chittock led the construction of various puppets, ranging in size from tiny fly puppet to the appropriately named whale Mr. Big, which was approximately 20 feet long. 

** Fun Fact #8: Future Wētā Workshop founders Richard Taylor and Tania Rodger cut their teeth on the film’s production, as model maker and puppet coordinator/maker, respectively. 

 

Sources for this article: “Spluppet on a Shoestring,” by Steve Menzies, Onfilm (1989); “Jackson’s Movies: Meet the Feebles,” Film Review Special. 2005, Issue 60, p50-51; “Just the Feebles,” by Sheldon Teitelbaum, Cinefantastique, 1990, volume 20; Braindead: An Interview with Peter Jackson,” by David E. Williams, Film Threat (February 17, 1992); “Meet Your Creature Feature,” by Ian Prior, Illusions (Issue 13, 1990); “Braindead: An Interview with Peter Jackson,” by David E. Williams, Film Threat (February 17, 1992); “Sex, Drugs and Soft Toys,” TVNZ (1989) 

Magic

 

(1978) Directed by Richard Attenborough; Written by William Goldman; Based on the novel by William Goldman; Starring: Anthony Hopkins, Ann-Margret, Burgess Meredith and Ed Lauter; Available on Blu-ray and DVD. 

Rating: ****

“Magic is misdirection, that’s all it is. And misdirection is getting people to look in the wrong place at the right times.” – Ben Greene (Burgess Meredith)

“I wasn’t aware of this when I was doing the film, but afterward somebody asked me… ‘Was there a parallel in your own life?’ and I remembered, when I was at school, I was very much on the outside, and I developed a repertoire of jokes and impersonations, and through my formative years I kept this repertoire going of impersonations, and I became brilliant at imitating people. It was my only way of bridging this sort of a gap, and in a way, ‘Fats,’ in solid form, is a representation of what was going on in my own life.” – Anthony Hopkins (excerpted from 1978 interview)

If you want to make your movie instantly creepy (or creepier) you can’t miss with a ventriloquist’s dummy. While most dummies would never pass muster as a miniature human being, they dwell in that uncanny valley between real and fake, where a seed of doubt germinates (Are they alive or somehow possessed? Who’s the puppet, and who’s the puppeteer?). Our mind’s rational half scoffs at the idea that a crude facsimile of person, made of wood, plastic and cloth could ever be alive, but our emotional half suggests otherwise (I didn’t see the puppeteer’s lips move… And did those eyes just move on their own?). Director Richard Attenborough’s* film Magic (based on William Goldman’s 1976 novel) raises these questions and more. 

* Fun Fact #1: Norman Jewison was producer Joseph E. Levine’s first choice for director, but when they had a falling out, Richard Attenborough replaced him.

When we’re introduced to Corky (Anthony Hopkins), he’s not exactly an overnight success, struggling to keep an apathetic audience entertained with his mediocre card tricks. His elderly mentor Merlin (E.J. André) encourages him to find a way to connect with his audience. Corky’s solution comes in the form of a comedy routine with his dummy “Fats.” As his new act begins to take off, he’s courted by high-profile agent Ben “The Postman” Greene (played by the always reliable Burgess Meredith),* who envisions a bright future for his new client. As they discuss TV talk show appearances, leading up to a pilot for his own show, there’s only one sticking point. Corky’s elation quickly turns to irritation when Greene mentions that the network requires a medical exam. When the pressure becomes too great, Corky takes off on a self-imposed retreat to calm his nerves. He finds an out-of-the-way cabin in the Catskills managed by his old high school crush, Peggy (Ann-Margret). He soon learns that things aren’t looking good for Peggy, whose marriage to former high school boyfriend Duke (Ed Lauter) is on the rocks, while their resort business is dying. As a romance between Corky and Peggy blooms, Corky’s façade begins to crack. When Fats’ personality gradually begins to overshadow Corky’s, will it be the puppeteer or the puppet** who comes out on top? 

* Fun Fact #2: Sir Lawrence Olivier was originally cast as Corky’s fast-talking agent, but when the British actor fell ill, he was replaced with Burgess Meredith 

** Fun Fact #3: In the novel, the story was told from Fats’ perspective.

Anthony Hopkins walks a tricky tightrope as the mentally unstable Corky* and his alter-ego Fats.**/*** Hopkins credibly creates the illusion that Fats isn’t merely an extension of Corky’s personality, but imbued with a personality of his own. As with many good ventriloquism acts, Corky says things that you could never imagine coming from such a genteel puppeteer. Of course, it’s merely another facet of Cork’s personality, brought to life through an inanimate object. As Corky’s mental state deteriorates, the boundaries eventually dissolve to the point where Fats takes over as the dominant personality. In one scene, Greene catches the two in the middle of a heated argument. Fearing that his client is losing a grip on reality, he challenges Corky to “Make Fats shut up for five minutes.”  When Green subsequently encourages Corky to see a mental health professional, Fats wants the agent out of the picture. 

* Fun Fact #4: Jack Nicholson was originally slated to play Corky, but when that fell through, Levine considered Al Pacino, Gene Wilder and Chevy Chase for the lead role. 

** Fun Fact #5: Professional ventriloquist Dennis Alwood trained Hopkins on his craft prior to filming. As a result, most of the ventriloquism in the film was performed by Hopkins himself.   

*** Fun Fact #6: Levine originally wanted to purchase Alwood’s dummy “Dudley” and change its appearance, so it more closely resembled Hopkins. Instead, a brand-new dummy was created for “Fats.”

 

Ann-Margret is the other major player in this twisted drama, Peggy, who’s the calm within the storm. It’s easy to see why her underemployed, emotionally insecure husband has lost his luster, while this strange man from her past represents something new yet familiar. In a tense scene with Corky, an innocuous card trick becomes a personal struggle when a simple mistake makes him doubt his competence. He lashes out angrily at Peggy, browbeating her for allegedly messing up the trick. Sure, there couldn’t have been a more obvious indication of Corky’s deteriorating mental state if a there had been a neon sign flashing in front of her face, stating “DON’T TRUST HIM. HE’S NUTS,” but love isn’t logical. On the one hand, it’s easy to say she’s making a big mistake when she decides to run away with Corky, shifting from one verbally abusive partner to another. On the other hand, Corky appears to be her ticket out of a loveless marriage.

The film establishes early on that there’s nothing supernatural occurring. Unfortunately, Corky’s fractured mind can’t distinguish between his dummy and a living, breathing human being. The puppet doesn’t manipulate itself. It’s always been Corky, but in his mind’s eye, puppet and puppeteer are two separate personalities. Although Fats doesn’t move or talk on his own when he’s not controlled by Corky, one brief shot suggests otherwise, when the unattended dummy’s eyes suddenly move. Attenborough admitted it was an error, but decided to leave the flub in the movie. While the brief sequence was incongruous with everything else we know about Corky and Fats, it works on a different level suggesting that subjectively, from Corky’s perspective, Fats is alive. 

The ventriloquist’s dummy with a mind of its own is an enduring trope, guaranteed to send audiences on edge. From The Great Gabbo (1929), to the unforgettable final segment of Edge of Night (1945), to Devil Doll (1964) filmmakers and filmgoers alike have been suitably entranced and terrified, and Magic represents a continuation of this grand tradition. Anthony Hopkins’* intense performance anchors the film, serving as its chaotic center. Jerry Goldsmith’s excellent score, simultaneously wistful and eerie, is a great match for Victor J. Kemper’s moody cinematography. The careful control of light and shadow reveals just enough, but never too much, creating an almost noirish tone. It all contributes to a sense of unease that continues long after the movie has ended. 

* Fun Fact #7: In a 1978 interview, Hopkins revealed that he was preparing for his next project with Attenborough, playing the title role of Gandhi (a part that eventually went to Ben Kingsley).

  

Sources for this article: “Screenwriting for Dummies” (2006 interview with author William Goldman); “Fats and Friends” (2006 interview with ventriloquist Dennis Alwood); “Swank in the Arts: Anthony Hopkins” (1978 interview, KERPA, Dallas)

Blue Sunshine

 

(1977) Written and directed by Jeff Lieberman; Starring: Zalman King, Deborah Winters, Mark Goddard, Robert Walden, Wendy Flemming and Ray Young; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ***½

“Millions of my generation had experimented with LSD during the late 60s into the 70s. Deep down they all must harbor a fear there could be some validity to the detrimental long-term effects of the mysterious drug. Why not tap into that universal fear the way Hollywood tapped into our generation’s fear of the atomic bomb back in the fifties? What if there was a particular strain of LSD that altered our chromosomes the way they claimed radiation did?” – Jeff Lieberman (from Day of the Living Me)

“There’s a bald maniac in there, and he’s gone batshit!” –  Man fleeing discotheque (Unknown)

Once in a great while, a movie comes along that baffles all expectations. Blue Sunshine is such a film. Writer/director Jeff Lieberman’s follow-up to Squirm (1976) drew upon the paranoia and misinformation surrounding the anti-drug efforts of the ‘70s. The so-called “War on Drugs” and its accompanying propaganda campaign preached about the supposed deleterious effects from various illegal substances, even with one use. But what if the anti-drug campaigns were right all along?  

From the movie’s opening party scene, you know you’re in for a wild ride. Brilliant but directionless drifter Jerry Zipkin (Zalman King) watches his friend Frannie Scott (Played by Billy Crystal’s older brother, Richard) goof off,* doing his best Sinatra imitation. But in an instant, things go horribly wrong, resulting in the brutal killing of a woman at the party, as well as Frannie’s death. Zipkin, now implicated in the murders, is on the run, and has no alternative but to embark on a personal crusade to prove his innocence. Clues point to a politician running for congress, Ed Flemming (Mark Goddard, of Lost in Space fame), who sold drugs in college. Now Flemming is doing his best to bury that sordid part of his past. Meanwhile, the trail leads to a police detective who murdered his entire family before killing himself, as well as Flemming’s ex-wife Wendy (Ann Cooper) who suddenly loses her hair and becomes violent. All the suspects share a common denominator: they once attended Stanford University (Ed Flemming’s alma mater) in the late 1960s, with all appearing to have taken a particular strain of LSD nicknamed “Blue Sunshine.” 10 years after using the drug, they’re now experiencing a host of symptoms: hair loss, headaches, and extreme irritability, which increases over time. The symptoms eventually escalate, causing them to lapse into a psychotic episode. Can Zipkin prove his innocence and save more potential victims before it’s too late? 

* Fun Fact #1: Look for a pre-Blade Runner Brion James as an inebriated partygoer, wildly flapping his arms and cawing like a bird of prey.

I’m not sure how Lieberman directed Zalman King, but his performance is turned up to 11 in every scene. Virtually every line from our protagonist is delivered at a volume and intensity that seems out of proportion to the scenes at hand. Jerry Zipkin is a true believer who never caved in to the temptation to sell out, unlike so many of his peers. Because he refuses to play life by the rules, he’s seen by others as an outsider for his erratic behavior. It doesn’t help Zipkin’s case when on two occasions, attempting to intervene results in death. Only his girlfriend Alicia (Deborah Winters) believes in his innocence, but assisting him could spell trouble with LAPD Detective Clay (Charles Siebert), who’s hot on Zipkin’s tail.

What distinguishes Blue Sunshine from the rest are all the bizarre little moments that make the film so memorable. Witness Ed Flemming’s estranged wife, Wendy (Ann Cooper), who succumbs to the delayed effects of Blue Sunshine. A simple day babysitting turns into terror when the obnoxious kids in her care set her over the edge. Minus the butcher knife, it’s a scene most parents (or anyone who’s worked with kids) could relate to. And did I mention there’s a puppet show? Deciding to have creepy Barbra Streisand and Frank Sinatra puppets opening for a political campaign speech might not seem the most orthodox or advisable approach to capturing the hearts and minds of potential voters, but you do you, Mr. Flemming. If anything, it’s a welcome distraction from his empty campaign promises. In one of his commercials, he stresses how he wants to “Make America good again” (Hmm… Sound familiar?). The icing on this surreal cake is when Flemming’s hulking aide, Wayne Mulligan (Ray Young) flips his lid, embarking on a disco rampage.* As played by Young, Mulligan looks as if he’s auditioning to play Frankenstein’s monster. 

* Fun Fact #2: The tunes in the discotheque are provided by a band called “The Humane Society for the Preservation of Good Music” (I’ll leave that for you to decide if they’ve succeeded or failed in their mission).

Blue Sunshine throws us a few red herrings along the way, keeping the audience guessing (Did they take the drug or not?). Not everything is how it seems, as depicted in a tense moment when Zipkin’s surgeon friend, David Blume (Robert Walden), starts to lose his cool in the operating room.* Is it the delayed effects of Blue Sunshine, or is it just stress from overwork? 

* Fun Fact #3: Lieberman’s brother was a pediatric medicine intern at the time. While he wasn’t trained as a surgeon, Lieberman consulted him about the various instruments. Unfortunately, his brother only recalled two operating instruments, a “Kelly” and a “Long Instrument,” so Blume keeps asking for the same ones repeatedly.

Lieberman’s oddball film defies easy categorization. Is it horror, a psychological thriller, or a drama? It’s all of these, and more. Blue Sunshine can also be viewed as a vicious satire, skewering the Baby Boomer generation, when many hippies sold out to become part of the establishment. Viewed from a contemporary lens, it’s easily applicable to subsequent generations of Gen X and Millennials, who followed in the footsteps of their parents. Many of us start off with lofty ideals, which gradually become diluted and compromised over the years, sacrificing our scruples for creature comforts.

Much like the fictional eponymous drug, Blue Sunshine is the gift that keeps on giving after repeated viewings. One scene after another is filled with something odd. It’s refreshing to see a film where you can’t predict where it’s going from one moment to the next. Anything can happen (and often does), in a film that’s obviously not made by a committee or focus groups. Filmmaker Jeff Lieberman succeeds by successfully feeding into our collective paranoia – It’s genuinely scary to consider the possibility that some of us might be walking around right now, unaware of the dangers that lurk within ourselves. To say there’s nothing else like the delightfully idiosyncratic Blue Sunshine is a gross understatement. Come for Zalman King’s histrionics, stay for the puppet show. 

 

Sources for this article: Day of the Living Me, by Jeff Lieberman; “Lieberman Using Film Techniques Which Heighten On-Screen Impact,” by John Cocchi, Boxoffice (May 22, 1978)