Short Take: Attack of the Puppet People

 

(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 

“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).

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.

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.

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

 

 

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

 

(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: ***

“…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) 

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.       

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.

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.

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)

 

Japan-uary XIV Quick Picks and Pans

 

Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald (1997) Writer/director Kôki Mitani’s nutty comedy (based on a play by Mitani and Tokyo Sunshine Boys) takes place over one night in a Japanese radio station where everything can and does go wrong. After winning a contest to have her radio play performed, a young housewife’s elation gives way to regret. Small edits devolve to big changes (including changing the main character at the behest of an-over-the-hill diva), until her original script is unrecognizable. The eccentric characters are brought to life, thanks to the excellent cast’s delightfully manic performances. Watch it if you can find it. 

Rating: ****. Available on DVD (Out of Print) 

The Snow Woman (1968) Based on the same tale (“The Yuki Onna,” by Lafcaido Hearn) that served as the source material for the “Yuki-Onna” segment in Kwaidan (1964), The Snow Woman expands upon the story and provides some genuine chills (pun intended). While two woodcutters take shelter from a brutal snowstorm, something lurks in the darkness. A beautiful supernatural snow woman kills the elder woodcutter, but spares his apprentice, with the warning that she’ll kill the younger man if he ever tells anyone about what occurred. The apprentice reluctantly becomes the master when he’s commissioned to carve a statue of Buddha for his village, but he faces adversity from an arrogant rival. His new wife is loving and supportive, but there’s something off about her. Creepy in parts and surprisingly touching, The Snow Woman is not to be missed. 

Rating: ****. Available on Blu-ray (part of the Daiei Gothic box set)

We Are Little Zombies (2019) Four kids in their early teens meet by chance at their parents’ respective cremations. The freshly minted orphans form a friendship, based on their shared lack of emotion for their recent tragedies, and disdain for society’s expectations. They become surprise celebrities when their impromptu band becomes a hit. Told through the youths’ perspective (and a handheld video game), writer/director Makoto Nagahisa’s unique tragi-comedy explores performative parenthood, processing childhood grief, and the ephemeral nature of fame. 

Rating: ****. Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Kanopy 

Caterpillar (2010) Set in 1940, a Japanese soldier (Shima Ônishi) arrives home to a hero’s welcome, but he’s horribly disfigured. With a scarred face, inability to speak, and missing all four limbs, the burden falls upon his wife (Shinobu Terajima) to tend to his every need. Despite his status as a “War God,” however, he’s reduced to a miserable empty shell. While his suffering wife immerses herself in his care, she loses more and more of her identity. Kôji Wakamatsu’s film (based on a Rampo Edogawa tale) is well-made and well-acted, but if you’re not depressed before you see, you’ll likely be afterwards. You might want to watch this with a My Neighbor Totoro chaser, just to clear the palate.   

Rating: ****s. Available on DVD (Region 2) 

Before We Vanish (2017) Director/co-writer Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s meditation (based on a play by Tomohiro Maekawa) on what it is to be human is told through the warped lens of three extraterrestrial visitors, inhabiting the bodies of earthlings. Their mission is to collect concepts (such as “family,” “property,” etc…) to better understand the human species before they launch a full-scale invasion. One of the aliens, assuming the body of an estranged husband (Ryûhei Matsuda), enlists the aid of his wife (Masami Nagasawa) as a “guide” to help navigate the complexities of interactions and relationships. Thoughtful and decidedly low-key, Before We Vanish celebrates what it means to be human. 

Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray (Region B), DVD and Tubi

Mind Game (2004) After his life is snuffed out by a trigger-happy Yakuza enforcer, 20-year-old slacker Nishi (voiced by Kôji Imada) is given the opportunity to relive the fateful event, albeit with a different outcome. The next time around, he endeavors to establish a meaningful relationship with his childhood sweetheart, Myon (Sayaka Maeda). Filled with unique visuals (thanks in part to the use of mixed media), Masaaki Yuasa and Kôji Morimoto seem to be playing by their own rules, with an anime film that’s a treat for the eyes and the intellect. 

Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray and DVD   

The Great Yokai War: Guardians (2021) Takashi Miike’s belated follow-up to his enjoyable The Great Yokai War (2005) is a big disappointment – a stale rehash without the heart. It shows promise in the early scenes, as we’re introduced to young brothers Kei and Dai (Kokoro Terada and Rei Inomata), who share some nice scenes with various yokai. Unfortunately, it runs out of steam long before it hits the midpoint, due to mediocre CGI effects (including a lackluster CGI villain). If you need your yokai fix, you’re much better served by Miike’s original film or the Daiei yokai trilogy that inspired it. 

Rating: **½. Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Warning from Space

 

(1956) Directed by Kôji Shima; Written by Hideo Oguni; Story by Gentaro Nakajima; Starring: Keizô Kawasaki, Toyomi Karita, Bin Yagisawa, Shôzô Nanbu, Bontarô Miake, Mieko Nagai and Isao Yamagata; Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Rating: **½

“It’s a distant planet, lying way beyond the scope of your observatories. From our planet, we saw many atomic clouds on Earth, so we destroyed our research into Urium. Our physicists developed a much safer form of energy, and Paira’s culture has greatly benefited from the resulting peace. But the misuse of nuclear weapons now threatens the very existence of Earth. Centuries ago, the Pairans came close to nuclear catastrophe themselves, but we were wise. And with unlimited safe power, our culture progressed rapidly. Only one country on Earth has experienced the terror and destruction of atomic war, and that country is Japan.” – Ginko (Toyomi Karita) 

Japanese film has become such an integral part of the American pop culture landscape, it’s difficult to imagine there was a time, not so long ago, when this wasn’t the case. Godzilla (aka: Gojira) (1954) opened the floodgates for Japanese genre movies in the U.S., albeit dubbed and re-edited a couple of years later as Godzilla: King of the Monsters. While the rest is history, some movies got lost in the shuffle. Warning from Space (aka: Uchûjin Tôkyô ni arawaru, or Spacemen Appear in Tokyo) (1956), the first full-color science fiction film from Japan,*/**enjoyed a successful run in its native country, but only saw a limited theatrical release elsewhere in the world. By the time it eventually debuted in the United States in the early ‘60s, it was unceremoniously dumped on television. 

* Fun Fact #1: Daiei Studios’ Warning from Space preceded rival studio Toho’s Rodan by nearly a year (which premiered in December 1956). 

** Fun Fact #2: Nijiotoko (aka: Rainbow Man) (1949), considered one of the first Japanese sci-fi films, included a color sequence, which is now thought to be lost.

Japanese scientists are baffled by reports of flying saucers and their crew – a race of beings known as the Pairans.* While they continue to debate their existence with overeager reporters, Planet R hurtles through the cosmos, on a collision course with Earth. Japanese authorities eventually convince multiple nations to combine their nuclear might to destroy the threat. When that fails, humanity’s last hope lies with one researcher, Dr. Matsuda (Isao Yamagata) possesses the formula for “Urium,” a substance with the potential to be a virtually limitless power source or a devastating weapon. As the threat looms closer, causing catastrophic changes to the environment, can humanity get its act together in time? Perhaps with a little help from its new friends, the Pairans… 

* Fun Fact #3: The unworldly sound effect heralding the appearance of the Pairans was later recycled by Daiei for Gamera’s flying scenes.

Considering writer Hideo Oguni’s impressive filmography,* the story is surprisingly messy, filled with paper-thin characters and plot threads that don’t go anywhere. Instead of one protagonist, we have three elderly scientists. There’s a weird subplot about Dr. Matsuda being kidnapped by thugs for his secret formula (never mind that the world is about to end), until the Pairans arbitrarily reveal that they have the ability to track his whereabouts. Another weird thread, introduced early on, then dropped, is whether Dr. Kamura’s daughter Taeko (Mieko Nagai) will settle down and marry her boyfriend (Spoiler Alert: Nope, but it never becomes a significant plot point). Even the all-powerful substance, Urium, seems to be a lackluster plot device. Pairans have traveled vast distances to arrive on Earth, suggesting a civilization far in advance of their human counterparts. They supposedly abandoned research in Urium so they could carry on more peaceful pursuits, but it only makes me wonder why they weren’t capable of developing some other means of deflecting an errant celestial body (On a side note, did James Cameron get the idea for his own MacGuffin, “Unobtanium” from this film? The world may never know…). 

* Fun Fact #4: Oguni is probably best known today for his many collaborations with Akira Kurosawa, including the scripts for Ikiru (1952), Seven Samurai (1954) and Ran (1985).

If nothing else, Warning from Space’s claim to fame is a distinctive one: the starfish-shaped beings, the Pairans.* Whether you think they’re unique or profoundly silly (judging by the awkward look of the costumes, mobility isn’t a priority), they leave an indelible impression. After making a big splash (literally) in Tokyo Bay and a nearby lake,** freaking out half the population of Japan in the process, the Pairans wise up and assume the appearance of two humans: an attractive singer, Hikari Aozora (Toyomi Karita) and a man (Bin Yagisawa). Concluding that perhaps their visage is a little too unsettling for humans and their feeble brains to comprehend, two of the extraterrestrials have the following exchange: 

Pairan #1: As soon as they see us, they scatter in fear, as if they had seen something monstrous. 

Pairan #2: What? Are we considered hideous? Are they more beautiful than us? 

Pairan #1: No. Examine this. This is what they consider a beautiful woman (Pairans view image of Hikari Aozora). 

Pairan #2: This is their concept of beauty? It has a very large lump in the center of its face. 

* Fun Fact #5: The funky, fanciful design of the Pairans can be attributed to Japanese surrealist Taro Okamoto. 

** Fun Fact #6: Look for future director Noriaki Yuasa (who helmed many of Daiei’s Gamera films) in a bit part as an onlooker by a lake.

Warning from Space provides ample evidence that “first” doesn’t necessarily mean best, but if nothing else, it’s a painfully earnest sci-fi disaster film. As the Rodney Dangerfield of Japanese science fiction movies, it doesn’t get much respect these days, although that doesn’t mean it doesn’t merit at least a watch. The film’s “Earth in crisis” theme, likely influenced by When Worlds Collide (1951), became a popular motif for subsequent Japanese science fiction movies, including Gorath (1962) and The Green Slime (1968). If you’re a disaster freak like me, it’s a trope that never gets old.

 

Sources for this article: Blu-ray commentary by Stuart Galbraith IV

  

 

Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell

(1968) Directed by Hajime Satô; Written by Kyûzô Kobayashi and Susumu Takaku; Starring: Teruo Yoshida, Tomomi Satô, Hideo Kô, Masaya Takahashi, Nobuo Kaneko, Eizô Kitamura, Yûko Kusunoki, Kazuo Katô and Kathy Horan; Available on DVD (included in the Criterion Eclipse set, “When Horror Came to Shochiku”) 

Rating: ***½ 

“There’s a theory that aliens actually exist… That somewhere, in this vast universe, there are creatures far more advanced than human beings. According to this theory, it’s only a matter of time before these highly intelligent beings set their sights on planet Earth. The flying saucers sighted around the world have been reconnaissance missions before an attack, yet people refuse to believe an attack is on the way. They deny the existence of extraterrestrials. They’d rather fight their wretched wars, hating and killing one another. We’re so busy killing each other that aliens have a golden opportunity to attack. Mankind is foolishly oblivious to the danger. The Gokemidoro are right. With things as they are, humanity’s annihilation is inevitable.” – Toshiyuki Saga, the scientist (Masaya Takahashi)

If we were attacked by a hostile alien intelligence, would humanity band together to face the threat, or would we succumb to our petty squabbles and differences? Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell suggests the latter, in its portrayal of a microcosm of society under duress. Director Hajime Satô* (probably best known for 1966’s The Golden Bat), along with writers Kyûzô Kobayashi and Susumu Takaku, crafted a profoundly bleak, discomforting vision of humanity in a pressure cooker. 

Fun Fact #1: Before he became a filmmaker, Satô prepared for a career in economics.

A small airliner enroute to Osaka receives a bomb threat, forcing its crew to return to their point of origin. Once again, however, they are made to change course by a hijacker (Hideo Kô) (Yes, friends, there’s a bomber and a hijacker). Things turn from bad to worse when the crew encounter a UFO, which causes one of the engines to flame out, while the instruments go haywire. The plane crashes in a remote region, but the survivors are unable to call for help, due to a smashed radio. Among the survivors thrown into the mix are Japanese senator Gôzô Mano (Eizô Kitamura), arms dealer Tokuyasu (Nobuo Kaneko), a teen, would-be bomber, and Mrs. Neal (Kathy Horan),* an American woman traveling to a U.S. air base, to retrieve her husband’s remains. First officer Sugisaka (Teruo Yoshida) and flight attendant Kazumi Asakura (Tomomi Satô) try to help the survivors and restore order to the ensuing chaos. Their problems are compounded by the realization they have no idea where they are, with no means of contacting the outside world. Meanwhile, outside the wreckage, a sinister extraterrestrial force, the Gokemidoro, take control of the hijacker’s body, transforming him into a bloodsucking fiend.   

* Fun Fact #2: American-born Kathy Horan was an ex-Air Force brat who worked as a model and actress in Japan. She enjoyed a brief film and television career from 1966 to 1969, before returning to the States. In addition to Goke, Horan appeared in genre favorites King Kong Escapes (1967), Genocide (1968), and Latitude Zero (1969).

Goke illustrates how people’s true natures are revealed through adversity. Senator Mano is only interested in his re-election, no matter the cost, while the obsequious war profiteer Tokuyasu, attempts to curry the senator’s favor by offering his wife Noriko (Yûko Kusunoki) in the bargain. When asked why he initiated a threat, the teen bomber replies simply, “‘Cause the world’s a boring place.” All this aberrant behavior is a petri dish for the psychiatrist. Rather than regarding himself as an unwitting participant, he views the ensuing drama with clinical detachment. No one emerges unscathed. The film suggests that Japan itself is a victim of the current state of affairs. Its residents witnessed nuclear devastation first-hand (one character links the bombing of Hiroshima to the appearance of flying saucers), only to be caught in the crosshairs of a global cold war between two superpowers. The omnipresent threat of widespread nuclear annihilation is further compounded by the United States’ involvement in the Vietnam war (represented by the Mrs. Neal character).  

During the 1960s, there was a brief period when Japanese genre films, particularly those from Shochiku, purveyed an especially dark, apocalyptic vision. While all the films in the Criterion Eclipse box set are well worth seeking out, despite a condescending write-up by Sight and Sound’s Michael Atkinson, Goke, the crown jewel of the collection, is not so easily dismissed. Despite its unrelentingly bleak vision, you’re unable to take your eyes away. Generally overlooked by mainstream critics, it’s remained only a footnote in Japanese cinema (if it's mentioned at all), but it’s long overdue for reassessment by modern audiences. Hajime Satô’s film takes a dim view of humanity and how a group of disparate individuals would deal with a crisis (Spoiler: not well). Because of hatred, widespread violence, and self-serving behavior, society is being torn apart bit by bit, leaving us vulnerable to attack. Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell reminds us that we are our worst enemy – to borrow an insightful line from Walt Kelly’s classic Pogo comic strip, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.” 

 

Sources for this article: “Apocalypse Wow!” by Chuck Stephens (essay in the Eclipse box set, “When Horror Came to Shochiku”); “Shochiku’s Schlock Wave,” by Michael Atkinson, Sight and Sound (January 2013); “Reflections of Miss Airlifter! Kathy Horan Remembers Her Acting andModeling Career in Japan!” by Brett Homenick, Vantage Point Interviews (2006) 

December Quick Picks and Pans

 

The Mysterious Castle in the Carpathians (1981) This imaginative, quirky fantasy/ comedy by director/writer Oldrich Lipský (based on a novel by Jules Verne) recalls the work of fellow Czech filmmaker Karel Zeman (with a heaping helping of Terry Gilliam). The opera-singing Count Teleke (Michal Docolomanský) embarks on a quest to find his lost love, Salsa Verde (Evelyna Steimarová), who was abducted by the shadowy Baron Gorc z Gorcu (Milos Kopecký). Teleke’s journey leads him to the Baron’s castle, filled with a host of fanciful inventions (brought to life by animator/prop-maker Jan Svankmajer) by the mad scientist Orfanik (Rudolf Hrusínský). If you’ve had your fill of Hollywood’s cookie-cutter approach to fantasy films, this movie might be just what the doctor ordered. 

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

 

Invisible Ghost (1942) Bela Lugosi stars as respected citizen Charles Kessler in this Poverty Row production. Despite the promising title, the film harkens back to the whodunits of the silent era, bereft of any supernatural occurrences. Set entirely in Kessler’s house, where a series of murders have occurred (Guess who’s responsible?). If you’re looking for a taut, suspenseful psychological thriller about a man with a tormented mind, you might want to look elsewhere, but it's an entertaining enough potboiler if you don’t dig too deep (Spoiler: The butler didn’t do it). 

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

 

The Guyver (1991) What if a makeup effects team directed a movie? It might look something like The Guyver (based on the manga by Yoshiki Takaya). Directed by Screaming Mad George and Steve Wang, it’s essentially a movie built around their freaky/fun creations (although a jive-talking monster voiced by Jimmie ‘JJ’ Walker is a bit much). Sean Barker (Jack Armstrong) is an aspiring karate master with impulse control issues (and the personality of a turnip). He unwittingly becomes fused with an ancient alien biomechanical device, transforming him into a powerful cyborg. He’s caught in a tug-o-war between CIA investigator Max Reed (Mark Hamill) and power-hungry CEO Fulton Balcus David Gale (along with his mutant sidekicks). If you’re in the right mood for some good practical effects and not much else, it’s diverting enough. 

Rating: ***. Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Tubi

The Undertaker and His Pals (1966) This would-be horror/comedy from director/writer T.L.P. Swicegood (who was obviously taking notes from H.G. Lewis’ Blood Feast) wears out its welcome in a hurry. The owners of a ramshackle diner (that appears to only have one menu item at any given time) are in cahoots with a shady mortician. Their establishments mutually benefit from a fresh supply of bodies, although it hardly seems to be a sustainable business model. The acting is lackluster at best, the effects are sketchy, and worst of all, the film thinks it’s funnier than it is (including sad trombone sounds for extra “hilarity”). Life is short…there are better choices on Tubi. 

Rating: **. Available on DVD and Tubi

 

Psyched by the 4D Witch (1973) Mercifully, this is the only film from writer/director Victor Luminera. Cindy (Margo), a naïve young college student, becomes possessed by the evil spirit of a 17^th-century witch (Esoterica), who takes her on a string of sexual escapades, one more depraved than the other. The washed out, scratchy print on Tubi suits the seedy subject matter, and the theme song plays over and over throughout the film, in case you forgot what the movie was about (spoiler: You’ll wish you did). Lacking any dialogue, the flick is narrated by Cindy and others who succumb to the witch’s control. In the many hallucinatory sequences, “demons,” represented by dollar-store masks and cheap rubber toys, prance about (you don’t need to be a scholar of Sigmund Freud to know what the toy serpent represents). The whole thing looks like it was shot and edited by kindergartners, but if you’re curious, any random five-minute sequence will probably tell you everything you need to know. 

Rating: *½. Available on DVD and Tubi

 

 

Danger: Diabolik

 

(1968) Directed by Mario Bava; Written by Dino Maiuri, Brian Degas, Tudor Gates and Mario Bava; Based on the comic by Angela Giussani and Luciana Giussani; Starring: John Phillip Law, Marisa Mell, Michel Piccoli, Adolfo Celi, Claudio Gora and Terry Thomas; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: **** 

Special thanks to Rebecca from Taking Up Room, for hosting the On the Spot Blogathon, an eclectic event dedicated to the first title participants can think of. So, what movie popped up in my head? Read on…

“San Francisco dropped you out of the medical register, but if you’re lying, I’ll drop you out of the human register.” – Ralph Valmont (Adolfo Celi)

Everyone remembers that annoying meme “You may be cool, but you’re not [fill in the blank] cool.” The thing is, I know I’m not cool, but Diabolik (John Phillip Law) is the textbook definition of cool. Starting in 1962, Diabolik appeared in an immensely popular fumetti neri (Italian “black comics”) series, created by two sisters, Angela and Luciana Giussani. An attempt was made to bring Diabolik to the big screen a few years before the 1968 version, with a different cast and crew, but it never materialized. Finally, under producer Dino De Laurentiis* and director Mario Bava, the titular character made it to the big screen as Danger: Diabolik (the word “Danger” was added to the title for the English language market). 

* Fun Fact #1: Although budgeted for $3 million, cost-conscious Bava finished the film for approximately $400,000.

In the opening scene, Diabolik (John Phillip Law),* our (anti)hero, pulls off a daring heist of $10 million in cash, much to the dismay of Inspector Ginko (Michel Piccoli). Diabolik hastily retreats, along with his shapely companion, Eva (Marisa Mell),**/*** to celebrate in his underground lair (by making love on a rotating bed covered in a heap of stolen cash). This is merely child’s play, however, for a master thief, as he sets his sights on a priceless emerald necklace owned by the wife of a British dignitary. As the authorities are thwarted at every turn by the elusive criminal, they resort to more unorthodox measures to bring Diabolik to justice. Knowing “It takes a thief to catch a thief,” the police enlist the aid of notorious crime boss Ralph Valmont (Adolfo Celi) to even the playing field. But for Diabolik, an even greater challenge lies ahead. 

* Fun Fact #2: Law was under contract from producer Dino de Laurentiis to appear in Barbarella. He was cast as the lead in Diabolik after producer Dino de Laurentiis brought the actor into Bava’s office.

** Fun Fact #3: Diabolik’s distinctive, face-conforming rubber mask was created by practical effects wizard Carlo Rambaldi.

*** Fun Fact #4: Catherine Deneuve was originally cast as Eva, but was replaced by Marisa Mell early in the production.

Diabolik, as portrayed by John Phillip Law, is almost a supernatural force, always one step ahead of the authorities, and impossible to contain – for long. Brazen, suave, and armed with a sly sense of humor, he flaunts his ability to give the cops the slip at every turn. Bava biographer Tim Lucas referred to Diabolik as a terrorist, but that doesn’t quite fit the character. If anything, he’s an anarchist, not aligned with any specific ideology or anyone but himself. We get the impression that while he enjoys the fruits of his labors, it’s the thrill of his dangerous endeavors, as well as his love for Eva, that keeps him going. Compared to Robin Hood, he doesn’t give directly to the poor, but I would opine that his undermining of the foundations of an oppressive government is his way of giving back to the common people. Besides, it’s tough to find sympathy for a government run by inept bureaucrats who couldn’t be trusted to find sand on a beach. His lover and partner in crime Eva is the yin to Diabolik’s yang.* Much more than a damsel in distress or a pretty accessory (like the dimwitted floosies that hang around with Valmont), she’s always there to get him out of a jam. Eva enjoys the chase nearly as much as he does, using her feminine wiles to manipulate naïve men. 

* Fun Fact #5: The filmmakers followed the comic’s color scheme, with black for Diabolik (including his Jaguar E-Type) and white for Eva (and matching car).

Husky actor Adolfo Celi is perfectly cast as Diabolik’s underworld rival, Ralph Valmont. He says everything with a sneer, barking orders to his underlings whom he regards as nothing more than a means to an end. He uses his private airplane to conduct meetings and conveniently drop his enemies out of a trapdoor.* When he kidnaps Eva as leverage to get what he wants from Diabolik, we just know his days are numbered.   

* Fun Fact #6: Bava used a G.I. Joe doll as a stand-in for the actor being dropped out of Valmont’s plane.

British comic actor Terry Thomas amuses as the bumbling Minister of Finance. In a scene that wouldn’t be out of place in the ‘60s Batman TV series, he holds a press conference, to discuss the government’s new hardline policies against criminals. Fortunately for our protagonists but unfortunately for the official, Diabolik and Eva are one step ahead, administering “exhilarating gas” to everyone (Good thing Diabolik happened to have his trusty “anti-exhilarating gas” capsules. No, really!). Predictably, the whole event turns into a circus, with everyone in the room, sans criminals, succumbing to fits of hysterics. After Diabolik bombs the government tax office, the beleaguered Minister of Finance holds another press conference, bemoaning the lost records, where he innocently appeals to the citizens’ honesty to send in the taxes they owe.  

While Diabolik has been compared to James Bond by some, he seems more closely aligned with the gentleman thief Lupin III. I can’t confirm that Hayao Miyazaki ever saw Bava’s film as inspiration for his Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro, but parallels with the two characters give one pause. A scene depicting Diabolik scaling a precarious castle wall with suction cups seems to mirror a similar sequence in Castle of Cagliostro (Perhaps it’s simply a case of great minds thinking alike?).

Ennio Morricone’s infectious score is a driving force in the movie, combining experimental electronic sounds, jazz riffs and electric guitar with more traditional instruments to create a breezy, fun-filled mood. Morricone’s score elevates the action scenes and enhances the more lighthearted sequences. I challenge you not to have the song “Deep Down” (sung by Maria Cristina Bancucci) rattling around inside your skull for days after watching this. 

* Not-So-Fun-Fact: According to Tim Lucas, Morricone’s stellar score was never released in any format, and the original tapes are now presumed lost.

While the cinematography is officially credited to Antonio Rinaldi, it’s widely accepted that the camerawork was done by Bava, himself. Bava also created the impressive matte paintings, including Diabolik’s futuristic underground complex, which still impresses today. Utilizing every camera trick in the book, Danger: Diabolik appears to be a much more expensive film. Instead of straying from the movie’s origins, Bava embraces them, replicating the comic book aesthetic at every turn.

When I think of a comic book movie, this fits the bill. Unlike many modern deconstructionist interpretations of the format, there’s no brooding superheroes or scenes so shadowy you’ll question whether you have cataracts. Danger: Diabolik proves that comic book films don’t always need to be Oscar bait to be a worthwhile viewing experience. Sometimes, it’s refreshing to watch a movie that knows what it is, and never takes itself too seriously (if a film could wink at the audience, this would be it). Danger: Diabolik is gleefully over the top from start to finish, reminding us how fun comic book films can be.

 

Source for this article: Blu-ray commentary by Tim Lucas