Quest for Fire

 

(1981) Directed by Jean-Jacques Annaud; Written by Gérard Brach; Based on the novel by J.H. Rosny Sr.; Starring: Everett McGill, Rae Dawn Chong, Ron Perlman, Nicholas Kadi, and Naseer El-Kadi; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ****½

 

“I thought I was making this crap caveman movie. I found out that this guy (Jean-Jacques Annaud) had won an Academy Award for ‘Black and White in Color,’ and he was a distinguished filmmaker. By the time I got nervous, I already had the role, so I didn’t trip myself up.” – Ron Perlman, on auditioning for Quest for Fire (Excerpted from 2017 Variety interview)

It’s no big surprise that most film depictions of early humankind are somewhat lacking in veracity. Whether due to lack of budget, research, or by design, most caveman movies end up looking silly, bordering on self-parody, or straight-out comedies. By default, filmmakers and production companies preferred a more fanciful recreation of primitive people, grunting gibberish, wearing very little, and more often than not, walking amongst dinosaurs (even though the mighty beasts died out many millions of years before our earliest ancestors were on the scene).* Few filmmakers bothered with a “serious” depiction about our early ancestors. One notable exception was Stanley Kubrick’s “Dawn of Man” segment of 2001: A Space Odyssey, which served as a point of reference for French director Jean-Jacques Annaud. Far from the norm, Quest for Fire would reflect the combined efforts of anthropologists, linguists, and many other talented researchers and artists to create a more authentic experience. After three-and-a-half years of development, and an exhaustive search for locations around the world,  filming** commenced in Glencoe, Scotland, Nairobi, Kenya, and Northern Ontario, Canada.*** Budgeted at $12 million, Annaud’s film faced numerous hurdles to overcome, not the least of which were strict Canadian regulations, requiring a certain percentage of Canadian actors, makeup artists and editors. 

* Fun Fact #1: According to Annaud, he purposely wanted to avoid making something like Hammer’s One Million Years B.C. (1966) or Prehistoric Women (1967). 

** Fun Fact #2: In his DVD commentary, Annaud noted that everything was shot live, without post-production trickery. There were very few second takes. 

*** Fun Fact #3: Original plans were to film in Iceland, with its primordial landscape, but shooting was called off due to delays from an ongoing actors’ strike and bad weather.

Set 80,000 years in the past, when early humans were just gaining a foothold at the top of the food chain, they endured multiple threats from creatures and hostile tribes, in defense of the one rare commodity that determined who would survive – the possession of fire. When a Neanderthal tribe (the Ulam people) is ambushed by a savage clan of pre-humans (the Wagabou tribe), they set out to make a new home, carrying their precious fire in a crude lantern fashioned from animal skin and bones. In their haste to relocate, their fire is accidentally extinguished. Three are chosen to bring it back to the tribe: Naoh (Everett McGill), Amoukar (Ron Perlman), and Gaw (Nameer El-Kadi).* As our intrepid protagonists set out on their adventure, dangers lurk around every corner, including a pair of hungry sabretooth cats,** who chase our intrepid protagonists up a tree, a stately herd of wooly mammoths,***/**** and a hostile tribe of cannibals (the Kzamm). But all isn’t misery and strife, when they find a new friend with Ika (Rae Dawn Chong)***** a representative from the Ivaka tribe. Over the course of their travels, they will learn to cooperate with each other, and not only gather fire, but learn to create it.******  

* Fun Fact #4: Nameer El-Kadi had a twin brother, Naseer, who played a fellow member of the Ulam tribe in early scenes. Naseer also stood in for Nameer when his brother was unavailable to shoot a scene involving the tribe’s run-in with a bear. 

** Fun Fact #5: Ligers (half-lion/half-tiger), equipped with prosthetic teeth, were utilized for the “sabretooth” cats. 

*** Fun Fact #6: In a scene when the trio of Neanderthals encounter a herd of wooly mammoths, the filmmakers employed children made up to resemble the leads, so the creatures would appear more massive. 

**** Fun Fact #7: The “mammoths” were 14 circus elephants fitted with masks, specially created hairpieces made from knotted yak hair, and enlarged prosthetic tusks. 

***** Fun Fact #8: According to Annaud, Chong wasn’t an actor when he discovered her on the beach in California, but he persuaded her to act in his movie. 

****** Fun Fact #9: For a pivotal scene in which an Ivaka tribesman creates fire…the filmmakers hired a Masai tribesman

While McGill, Perlman, and El-Kadi do an extraordinary job as the three Neanderthal leads, Rae Dawn Chong deserves special mention for one of the film’s most challenging roles as Ika, a Homo Sapiens woman, who spends a large portion of the film clad in nothing but body paint (actually layers of clay and charcoal, inspired by modern tribes). Much to the delight and dismay of her somewhat dim Neanderthal counterparts, she schools them in the ways of making fire, humor (reacting to a rock falling on Amoukar’s head with laughter), and instructing Naoh in the art of lovemaking. The sex and nudity depicted in the movie are presented in a matter-of-fact manner, not intended to be titillating or exploitive, but reminiscent of an anthropological study.

Quest for Fire invites us to immerse ourselves in the prehistoric world, starting with Annuad’s insistence on no subtitles (despite the urging of a short-sighted film executive). Instead, the filmmakers trust us to infer what’s happening onscreen through the characters’ facial expressions, gesticulations and body language. One of the film’s conceits is that not a single word of modern language is spoken. Instead, author/linguist Anthony Burgess (A Clockwork Orange), devised a language*/** for the Neanderthals, based on Indo-European roots. British zoologist Desmond Morris arranged sessions for the cast to mimic apelike behaviors, and Canadian mime Gary Schwartz (who appears as Rouka, from the Ulam tribe), instructed the actors on movement. Great care also went into the makeup,* to ensure the characters appropriately resembled their parts.   

* Fun Fact #10: The language used by the Ulam tribe included 350 distinct words. 

** Fun Fact #11: Because Burgess was only available for a relatively short time, there was no time to devise a completely different language for Ika’s tribe. Instead, the filmmakers recorded native Inuit speakers for their dialogue. 

*** Fun Fact #12: The elaborate Academy-award-winning makeup (by Sarah Monzani and Michèle Burke) for the principal characters, comprised of five separate pieces, took five hours to apply and two hours to remove. The wigs were designed in three pieces instead of one piece (as in most other caveman films), to make the characters’ hair look more authentic. 

45 years after its release, Quest for Fire remains the gold standard of caveman movies – the touchstone that all other films like it are compared against. While no one alive has ever heard a Neanderthal speak or watched sabretooth cats relentlessly pursue their prey, Quest for Fire’s compelling images are probably the closest thing to a documentarian traveling 80,000 years into the past to observe our ancestors.  

 

Sources for this article: DVD commentary by Jean-Jacques Annaud; “Quest for Fire – Pretty Department, Dirty Work,” by Suzanna Plowright (Cinema Canada, September 1981); “Final Cut: My First Time in Variety – Ron Perlman” (Variety, Sept. 20, 2017); “Canadian Regulations Under Fire As ‘Quest’ Shoot Continues,” by Gloria Kissin (The Hollywood Reporter, May 5, 1981)

 

 

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)

 

 

February Quick Picks and Pans

 

Elizabeth Harvest (2018) Elizabeth (Abbey Lee), a young trophy wife, arrives home with her rich middle-aged husband, Henry (Ciarán Hinds), but it doesn’t take long for her to realize something isn’t quite right about the ultramodern household. He stresses that the house and its contents belong to her, but admonishes Elizabeth not to enter one basement room. When he leaves for an overnight business trip, the room’s secret is too irresistible for her to ignore. Writer/director Sebastian Gutierrez fashioned a thoughtful modern-day science fiction spin on the classic Bluebeard tale, pondering the consequences of unfettered wealth coupled with unethical scientific practices.

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

Black Zoo (1963) The final film in producer Herman Cohen’s horror trilogy with Michael Gough (preceded by Horrors of the Black Museum and Konga), might be a notch below the first two titles, but it still entertains. This time around, Gough plays Michael Conrad, the owner of a private zoo in Hollywood. His abusive relationship with his alcoholic wife Edna (Jeanne Cooper) and mute son Carl (Rod Lauren) carries over to the mistreatment of Joe (Elisha Cook, Jr.), his employee. When he’s not tending to his zoo, he attends meetings with a secret animal-centered cult, with anyone who displeases him becoming a target for his retribution. He carries out his dirty work with a couple of big cats and a gorilla (played by a guy in an unconvincing ape costume). Gough chews the scenery as Conrad, a character you love to hate, with his over-the-top performance worth the price of admission alone. 

Rating: ***. Available on DVD

The Glove (1979) John Saxon plays small-time bounty hunter Sam Kellog, who’s looking for the one big score that will save his finances and keep his ex-wife in alimony payments. His hopes seem to be answered when the possibility of a $20,000 reward falls in his lap. His only obstacle is catching dangerous ex-con Victor Hale (Rosey Grier), who broke bail and skipped town. Now, Hale is on a one-man mission to get even with his sadistic former jailors, using a medieval-looking metal-reinforced glove to pummel them into the next county. Despite his character’s violent tendencies, Grier manages to make his character (who’s arguably done more for his community than Sam) too likeable as Kellog’s nemesis. Ultimately, director Ross Hagen’s ersatz-gritty urban drama is a little too sanitized to carry its pulpy premise – for a movie about a deadly gauntlet, it sure pulls its punches. 

Rating: **½. Available on Tubi

Demented Death Farm Massacre (aka: Honey Britches, Shantytown Honeymoon) (1971) A group of jewel thieves lay low in a backwoods shack with a young woman and her middle-aged, bible-verse-spouting husband. Predictably, things don’t go well. This cheapie would-be exploitation flick went by many names, but no matter what you call it, it’s bad. Originally directed by Donn Davison in 1971, the film was purchased by Fred Olen Ray in 1986, who inserted new footage of a decrepit-looking John Carradine, and sold it to Troma for a profit. As a result, we get a few tacked-on non-sequitur scenes with Carradine (who died only a couple of years later) commenting on the hellish torments that await the characters in the afterlife. Neither gory enough, nor sexy or quotable enough, this disappoints on every level. 

Rating: *½. Available on Tubi

The Manitou

(1978) Directed by William Girdler; Written by: William Girdler, Jon Cedar and Thomas Pope; Based on the novel by Graham Masterton; Starring: Tony Curtis, Susan Strasberg, Michael Ansara, Stella Stevens, Jon Cedar, Ann Sothern, Burgess Meredith, Paul Mantee and Felix Silla; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: **½

A huge thanks to Rebecca from Taking Up Room for hosting another spectacular edition of the So Bad It’s Good Blogathon (https://takinguproom.com/2026/02/13/the-eighth-so-bad-its-good-blogathon-has-arrived/), a celebration of movies that probably never won any accolades, but they’re still winners in our hearts. Be sure to feast your eyes on all the wonderful posts!

“Your God won't help you. Nothing in your Christian world will help. Not prayers, not holy water. Not the weight of a thousand of your churches.” – John Singing Rock (Michael Ansara)

John Singing Rock (Michael Ansara): “Gitche Manitou? Harry, you don't call Gitche Manitou. He...”

Harry Erskine (Tony Curtis): “Oh yeah, well, he's going to get a person-to-person call from me... collect!”

Filmmaker William Girdler (Grizzly, Day of theAnimals), was known for his low budget flicks, featuring outlandish plots and ridiculous premises, yet oddly entertaining. Quite possibly his most “out there” premise, however, was reserved for The Manitou, adapted from a novel by Graham Masterton. */** With a $3 million budget, The Manitou was Girdler’s most expensive movie to date,*** which he touted as a cross between The Exorcist and Star Wars (although the results were much closer to the former film than the latter). 

* Fun Fact #1: According to Masterton, he had discussed a sequel with Girdler, but his plans never reached fruition due to the 30-year-old director’s untimely death. Regardless, The Manitou became a franchise in its own right, with six novels. 

** Fun Fact#2: Despite having penned more than 100 novels, The Manitou is the only feature film adaptation of Masterton’s work, to date. 

*** Fun Fact #3: According to film writer Troy Howarth, the film was financed under the auspices that the script was already written. After the deal was struck, Girdler and fellow writers Jon Cedar (who also appeared in the film as Dr. Jack Hughes) and Thomas Pope reportedly belted out a screenplay in three days.

Set in modern-day San Francisco,* the movie opens with doctors poring over X-rays of a 28-year-old woman, Karen Tandy (played by Susan Strasberg, who was nearly 40 at the time), who suddenly developed a large growth on her neck. To make matters curiouser and curiouser, Dr. Jack Hughes is perplexed to discover that within the growth, which only appeared a few days earlier, a fetus is developing where it shouldn’t be. When Karen reaches out to an old flame, Harry Erskine (Tony Curtis) for help, it turns out she’s carrying a reincarnated 400-year-old Native American medicine man (Talk about having a lot to carry on your shoulders!). After consulting with a professor of Native American culture and mythology (Burgess Meredith), Harry decides it’s time to fight fire with fire, enlisting the aid of reluctant medicine man John Singing Rock (Michael Ansara).** 

* Fun Fact #4: In the novel, the story was set in New York City. 

** Fun Fact #5: Although cast as a Native American medicine man, Ansara was of Syrian descent.

Harry Erskine is a likeable fraud, who makes his living cheating nice but naïve old ladies out of their money, with a fake tarot card routine. His world is turned on end when he’s forced to confront a genuine supernatural occurrence. Tony Curtis delivers a comic performance in a movie that is allegedly a horror drama – unsubtle but fitting for the character and context of the film, which is anything but subtle. Erskine is such a colorful character that he eclipses Karen by comparison. Despite her acting pedigree, Susan Strasberg isn’t given much to do but fret about the tumor on her neck for most of the film.

In addition to Curtis, The Manitou is enhanced (somewhat) by an assembly of veteran character actors. Most notable of these appearances is the always watchable Burgess Meredith, who obviously understood his assignment, in a performance that flirts with camp, but never quite crosses the line. As Dr. Snow, an expert in anthropology and Native American lore, Meredith provides the right balance of eccentricity and earnestness to what would have been a throwaway part in less capable hands. 

Believe it… or not.

One of The Manitou’s debatable charms is that it consistently stretches suspension of disbelief to the breaking point. During what seems like a routine meeting with one of Harry’s favorite clients, the frail old Mrs. Herz (Lurene Tuttle) becomes possessed, spouting invocations in an alien dialect before throwing herself down the stairs. If broad comedy is what Girdler was aiming for, he succeeded. Ratcheting up the terror? Not so much. In a later scene, where a medical laser (under the influence of the angry medicine man developing inside Karen) goes haywire, it appears more like a ray gun from Star Trek or Star Wars (Complete with “pew pew” sounds – Think of a similar scene in Logan’s Run) than a precision medical instrument. Of course, the film’s claim to fame is its depiction of a fully formed medicine man (in miniature) emerging from Karen’s back. The evil medicine man, Misquamacus (deformed by X-rays), is played, alternately, by Felix Silla and Joe Gieb. What follows is a cosmically confusing ultimate battle between good and evil, as Karen’s hospital room transforms into a portal to another realm of time and space where “The Great Old One” dwells (at least I think that’s what happened). The special effects-laden scene, which probably used up a sizable portion of the budget seems more tacked-on than essential to the story, producing more shrugs than “oohs” and “aahs.” If that wasn’t enough hokum for one movie, The Manitou ends with a dubious fact, that a similar incident occurred in Tokyo several years before.* 

* Fun Fact #6: A cursory search for the alleged 1969 Japanese incident yielded nothing, leading at least this reviewer to conclude that it’s nothing more than ballyhoo from William Girdler.  

 

“I shall call him Mini-Misquamacus.”

Besides the well-worn trope of non-Native Americans playing indigenous people, The Manitou commits the sin of homogenizing Native Americans into one large group, with no distinguishing aspects between one tribe or another. I’m no expert, but considering there are currently 574 federally recognized Native American tribes in the United States, it seems highly unlikely that the legend of an extinct Northern California tribe would be known to an indigenous man living on a South Dakota reservation.  

Many adjectives could be used to describe The Manitou: silly, misguided, bizarre, but also fun (if you don’t take it too seriously). In a horror film that has more (unintentional and intentional) laughs than scares, it manages to entertain in spite of itself. Lalo Schifrin lends more gravitas to the film than it probably deserves, with a score that conveys an appropriate balance of mystery and terror. While the movie is more miss than hit, there’s one genuinely frightening scene, involving a séance to summon the spirit of the ancient medicine man, with his head ominously emerging from a table. Critics of the time were less than enthusiastic about The Manitou, with one decrying it as “another Exorcist copycat” with “limited appeal.” But that seems a bit too harsh. While Girdler’s cinematic swan song* certainly isn’t a masterpiece by anyone’s definition (no matter how broad), it’s more than worth a look for anyone who appreciates a good old, strangely engaging, Hollywood misfire. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore, for better or worse. 

* Fun Fact #7: According to a 1977 Hollywood Reporter blurb, Girdler intended to follow The Manitou with three productions, Knights of Glory, The Deadly Jungle, and The Last of the White House. Whether any or all of them would have ever seen the light is lost to speculation.

 

Sources for this article: Shout Factory Blu-ray commentary by Troy Howarth; Interview with author Graham Masterton; “Girdler Slates Three to Follow Manitou,” The Hollywood Reporter (March 2, 1977); “Another Exorcist Copycat. Oke credits. Limited Appeal,” by Hege, Variety (March 1, 1978).