Showing posts with label plagues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plagues. Show all posts

Sunday, October 8, 2023

Polish my Helmut – or, more Cushing for the pushing

Violence -- sexual or otherwise -- has long been cinema's favorite excuse for bare breasts. And these films supply all of the above, plus other pendulous globes! 



Mad Dog (1977) 
[aka Beast with a Gun, etc.]

Grade: C

Oh, Helmut Berger. A cautionary tale of wasted talent, or an example of someone who got the most out of what was predestined to be a limited shelf life? A charismatic chameleon and a born star, or a passaround boy who lucked into the infatuated gaze of fawning directors?

Well, probably the former (in each case). Berger exudes magnetism and danger, like the proverbial caged tiger, and you can't fake that with clever cinematography. He must have been part of what made Visconti's The Damned so striking, though the present writer mostly remembers the Night of the Long Knives scenes.

Such a shame when bad things happen to...people.




Clearly the makers of Mad Dog -- aka Beast with a Gun, The Human Beast, Mad Dog Killer, or La belva col mitra if you want the original Italian -- knew Berger was their star attraction. So they give him just the kind of role in which he shines, as Nanni Vitali, an absolutely ruthless, sexually voracious criminal who escapes from prison and is hell-bent on revenge.

No doubt they had Berger at "ruthless", his forte.




And they give him plenty of screen time, including a protracted shot of his bare backside if you're into that sort of thing, and pretty much all the best lines. More than once it borders on camp, intentionally or not, as when a detective (seemingly) meets his end in a fiery crash:

"That was a nice sight! A well-done dick."

You don't say, Helmut Berger! You don't say.




That detective, one Commissioner Santini (Richard Harrison), has one thing going for him: dude is absolutely jacked. Unlike a lot of policeman protagonists, you get the feeling that this cop could literally overpower the villain. He's got muscles and brains, so what's not to like?

Well, as opposed to (for example) Dirty Harry, Santini is too much of a straight hero to get the good lines. I suppose you could count his Smash Mouth moment about 12 minutes in -- "Vitali's like a mad dog!" -- but that only works on a meta, presentist level.




Actually a bunch of Santini's dialogue hits very strangely in 2023, in that he'll be saying something fairly routine but finishes off with something that sounds like a low-karma Reddit post. See, for example, when he excoriates Vitali for his cowardice:

"You're a filthy hyena. And you have the courage of one. You're only brave as long as you've got that gun, so you can terrorize helpless females."




Oh, hey, I got a work call and have to go home early but it was great meeting you!

Or how about when he, uh, excoriates Vitali for his cowardice again?

"You're a coward. You think you're a genius but you're just a common killer. There's a whole race of people like you, Vitali!"

That's...that sure is a thing you just said, that was said, by you.

On the other hand, we cracked up when a perfectly reasonable request from his Kim Clijsters-looking hostage, Carla (Marina Giordana), got this nasty reply from Vitali:

"I'm thirsty."
"So have a drink, twat!"

Once again, the bad guy gets all the good lines.

Of course this also betrays the fundamentally mean-spirited attitude of Mad Dog. Sure, modern viewers aren't likely to be bothered by its violence -- a bit of which was trimmed out of the Mill Creek print, though the only significant cut we identified actually improves the movie.

(The guy was face-down in a puddle and looked dead as a doornail, so bringing him back to have him cry out in agony? Not a good idea.)

But the "sexy man rapes woman, kills mate to demonstrate alpha status, and may have induced Stockholm Syndrome with his mighty phallus" angle of the film is uncomfortable. Arguably Mad Dog tries to have its cake and eat it too, though we can't communicate how without spoilers, but it's clear the film wants us to think she was ambivalent.

A subtler and more provocative moment comes in the homoerotic subtext between Vitali and the young criminal he picks up (Alberto Squillante). The way Helmut Berger looks at this Bimbo -- no, really, the character's name is Bimbo -- is tough to pass off as merely a kind of paternal affection.

Perhaps Berger put a bit of his authentic self into the role, since it's hard to imagine "Act like you want to bang the delinquent someday" was in the script.



It's also refreshing that Vitali isn't a Criminal Minds-style genius or master karateka, but someone who gets by strictly on his looks, ruthlessness, and cunning. He fumbles an attempted hit on a witness, keeps getting cornered like a rat, and even fails to perform in one fight scene, when a botched swing has him missing the victim entirely: "Bruno! Punch him!" he shouts.

Playing it off was cheaper than a reshoot, I guess.

Oh, and the print looks good enough, but very occasionally something gets cropped to comic effect, like this entrance:


Anyway, Mad Dog has multiple plot holes -- the one at the beginning, involving an unloaded gun, is comically obvious -- and a nasty streak. Even with lines like "I'll be in town...making hamburger out of the motherfucker!", is Helmut Berger enough to carry this one?

It depends on what you want from your hour-and-a-half of entertainment. It was probably bracing in 1977, but hard to predict people's reaction now. Maybe it's got a bit of the "too much of this, not enough of that" syndrome.

Quentin Tarantino seems to like it, prominently featuring the film in Jackie Brown. As for whatever Berger thought, he seems to have given it his all. Or makes us think he did.




Count Dracula and His Vampire Bride (1973)
[aka The Satanic Rites of Dracula]

Grade: D

Count Dracula and His Vampire Bride relies upon the premise that a bunch of high-ranking British muckety-mucks are in a secret society engaging in unspeakable, depraved acts with vulnerable persons. I mean, how gullible did Jimmy Carreras think we are, to toss a vile notion like that at us?


This wasn't quite Christopher Lee's last appearance as Dracula -- there's a horror comedy (shudder) yet to come -- but it's his last with Hammer. To be honest, the only other time we've seen Lee don the cape was in Jess Franco's Dracula (which we're not reviewing, as we'd have nothing interesting to say), so we don't have lots of context for his work as the Count.

This time around, his charisma is undiminished, his accent silly, and he just doesn't get all that much to do.


Meanwhile Peter Cushing is Professor Lorrimer Van Helsing -- one of the many fictional descendants of that fearless vampire hunter, who take to the job like an orphaned beaver that instinctively builds dams. (And they do!)

No marginal old man, Van Helsing holds his own and plays his part -- despite repeatedly engaging in the vice of announcing what you're about to do instead of just doing it. And he even shows off some pendulous globes!


So why is Drac back? Just to frolic with mid-tier extras whose agents convince them going topless will help their careers?


No, he wants to kill everybody with a new strain of bubonic plague that kills "within seconds". Septicemic plague can take less than a day (once symptoms present), but the modern vampire is in a hurry!


If anything Count Dracula and His Vampire Bride seems to think that evil for its own sake is enough of a motivator. Van Helsing tells us it can be "more addictive and more potent than heroin, I assure you, and the end result is just as fatal". Paging Dinky Hocker.

And we get a speech from one Professor Kelsey to that effect -- someone who was apparently "awarded the Nobel Prize for science and humanity" (er, sure), yet now has thrown his lot in with the infernal:

"Evil rules, you know. It really does. Evil and violence are the only two measures that really hold any power."

As we get older, and see more things happen, the temptation to reply "Well...you're not wrong!" grows stronger.

In any event Dracula has two persecutors, as he's also harried (indirectly) by Inspector Murray (Michael Coles), a specialist from Scotland Yard.

Inspector Murray also has the hots for Van Helsing's granddaughter Jessica (Joanna Lumley), for whom we do not have the hots.


Coles has one of those creepy old-young faces (like Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones), a big part of which is the way his haircut inspires cognitive dissonance (also like Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones).

(Not to mention the guy mentioned in red above: seriously, how could the world not twig Jimmy "Jim'll Fix It" Savile as a creep? That weird-haired burly man-child gave us the jibblies the first time we saw him.)




On the other hand, Coles is very good at projecting that "boxer who just took a hard hit to the end but is going to keep on fighting" thing, which is a lot more convincing than the usual impervious action-hero crap.

...speaking of which, Van Helsing (the elder and handsomer one) gets shot in the head, yet they don't bother to explain his immediate recovery or why he's not dead. Would one line about "Somehow, it ricocheted off my skull" really go amiss?


Count Dracula and His Vampire Bride is pretty phoned-in, more so as it goes on. The first 30 minutes or so are moderately entertaining but before long, the plot and pacing are in danger of falling below "Sega CD FMV game" standards. It relies too heavily on people doing stupid things, and needed more pulchritude to keep its audience too titillated to notice its flaws.

(Our understanding is that we're not missing any significant footage vs. the original release under the Satanic Rites of Dracula title, but we could be wrong. Correct us if we are, since a "Well, actually" comment would at least indicate that someone's reading!)

But is it watchable? Sure, it's watchable: what movie with T and/or A isn't, one might ask? (Some entries hence, you'll get an answer to that, courtesy of Ed Wood.)

And some of those action scenes get pretty funny at 4x speed, which is how you play them back if you're reviewing a movie a couple years after you first watched it. As one does.



Obviously, we haven't been able to post much lately. That happens sometimes -- but far be it from us to allow 2023 to pass without an entry.

Perhaps this will mark a renaissance at the Umbrellahead Review, as we catch up on our backlog and start going steady again? We look forward to that day!

Thursday, December 20, 2018

Your mind and we belong together

As we approach the end of 50 Sci-Fi Classics -- and the entire 250-pack! -- we come upon two movies in which characters are subject to unwanted mind probes from hostile groups, and are incapacitated by flashing lights and piercing sounds. How rude!


    The Brain Machine (1977)

    Grade: C-

    Proposition: when you think about it, almost every film hedges its bets in some way.

    Maybe the filmmakers just want to be liked; maybe they want to make money, or ran out of money and had to do the best they could with what was left. Or maybe it's an inheritance borne of Greek or Shakespearean principles of symmetry and balance: you have to have some of that to go with a lot of this.

    But seldom does a film start with a premise, mood, or worldview, and see it through every step of the way, without backing off or trying to lighten things up with "comic" relief or a romantic subplot...

    ...without, in other words, worrying about alienating some members of its audience. And there's a real bravery in that since, to quote an early episode of Futurama:

    "Clever things make people feel stupid, and unexpected things make them feel scared. Audiences don't want anything original. They wanna see the same thing they've seen a thousand times before."

    So it's refreshing, even bracing, to see a movie as relentlessly grim as The Brain Machine. The soundtrack literally sets the tone for us, since from the very first shot (and all the way to the last) we get echoing synthesizer wails, organ tremolos, and grinding guitar feedback -- all of which telegraphs something about the world the film inhabits.

    And that world isn't a very nice place.


    In the film's opening sequence we hear the clipped, humorless voices of military men who speak of "top-secret files" that involve a "Brain Machine" project. Suspecting a betrayal by one of the project scientists, the brass doesn't hesitate before ordering what sure sounds like an execution.

    Juxtaposed with this is the idle chatter of two scientists, Dr. Carol Portland and Dr. Elton Morris (Barbara Burgess and Gil Peterson), as they settle down to work.

    Having winnowed down a list of 447 applicants, they go over the biographical data of the four "lucky winners" chosen for their experiment, in which telling the truth is apparently of crucial importance...

    ...and telling a lie will be punished. But wait:

    "We've got all this truth business programmed, and punishment for the subjects if they tell a lie, but how are we going to know if they tell the truth?" asks Dr. Portland.

    "Don't ask me, love!" replies Dr. Morris. "We get the money to do what we wanna do, then we have to do some of the things the higher-ups want done."

    Hmm, could this have something to do with a certain "brain machine"? The world wonders.

    The actors portraying the four victims subjects include two unknowns who appear to have been local talent from Mississippi, where The Brain Machine was filmed.

    One looks a bit like a cross between Krist Novoselic and Andy Kaufman, and has the delightful name of Marcus J. Grapes (yes!). He had a handful of other appearances before disappearing from IMDb's radar.

    The other is Ann Latham as Minnie Lee Parks, who looks like everyone's ex-girlfriend...

    ...or, if you're less fortunate, that girl you wish you'd dated...

    ...or, if you're more fortunate, that girl you very wisely didn't date (to be fair, she was less attractive than Ms. Parks, but the type is the same, you know?).

    Oh, and she's described by Dr. Morris thusly: "Kinda cute! Kinda dumb. Just my type. (pause) Well, she is!"

    That gets a royal eye roll from Dr. Portland.

    As for the "name" actors, we have James Best, who later became Sheriff Roscoe Coltrane on The Dukes of Hazzard. Here he plays the tortured Rev. Emory Neill, a minister -- don't call him Father -- who feels out-of-step and burnt out. Don't we all!

    One gets the impression that something is deeply wrong in Rev. Neill's psyche, and he repeatedly tries to bail out on the experiments. Perhaps he's haunted by far-out faces from long ago; perhaps he's just a creep in a clerical collar.

    Finally, we have an uncannily young Gerald McRaney -- looking miles removed from his future as Major Dad, husband to Delta Burke, and shill for the Wounded Warrior Project (ahem).

    In The Brain Machine he's Willard "Willie" West, and he's every woman's dream: a handsome, athletic, literate overachiever who inherited a small fortune when both his parents were killed in a plane crash.


    Oh, did we mention that all these folks have no living relatives? Hmm again.

    With an unrelentingly atonal soundtrack and a cynical take on the human condition, one wants to recommend The Brain Machine as a hidden gem. It's rich in atmosphere, and its withering, paranoid outlook must have seemed even more apropos in 1972 (when it was filmed) than 1977 (when it was finally released). You know, Nixon and all that.

    But all the atmosphere in the world can't compensate for the fundamental predictability of its plot (not the exact details but the general gist), the contrivances of its script, or the difficulty the film has in making us care about its loveless characters in a loveless world.

    The Brain Machine has its cold, cold heart in the right place, and we love its aesthetic. It's just that, sadly, it isn't very compelling. Sorry, chaps.

    And speaking of chaps (sort of):


    They Came from Beyond Space (1967)

    Grade: D+

    When making a British horror movie (in the loose sense of the word "horror"), it strikes us that, basically speaking, there are two ways to play it.

    One is to treat the famous British culture of politeness as being a source of dread in and of itself, so that the protagonists inevitably (and awkwardly) have to violate its mores if they're to survive.

    We're not literate enough to cite any British examples, but American horror movies abound in such things -- Night of the Living Dead, for one.

    The other is to have the protagonists operate within, and thereby affirm, the values of their culture. Most American films of the 1950s played it that way: hard work, gumption, patriotism, humility, and neighborliness usually win out, while the opposite of those things usually loses.

    Thing is though, our protagonist in They Came from Beyond Space, Dr. Curtis Temple (Robert Hutton), isn't British: he's American.

    So when the evidence mounts that a recent meteor strike may have affected the minds of his colleagues, who have set up a mysterious armed camp around the impact zone, he has no qualms about barging in to check the situation out, over and over and over again...

    ...no matter how many times he's turned away at gunpoint. After all, he's American: one must forgive him, he's not been raised as we have.


    Boy, does Robert Hutton remind us of someone. Who, we're not sure: Shatner? Walken? That actor who played the mentally challenged guy on L.A. Law? Someone else entirely?

    Either way, the lopsided half-smirk he constantly deploys is certainly familiar -- and wears out its welcome quickly. Maybe it's a muscle issue, or a side effect of the silver plate he has in his head. (Chekhov, is that gun loaded?)

    Even though he was only in his late forties, Hutton feels too old to be a plausible action hero -- or a plausible love interest for Lee Mason (Jennifer Jayne), even though she herself was in her mid-30s. He seems like the kind of guy who would be sexually harassing his female colleagues, not successfully wooing them...

    ...and certainly doesn't seem to merit love at first pump from sex-starved petrol station workers à la Shatner.

    But, truth be told, Dr. Temple spends the bulk of his time surveilling and skulking around. He's more of an "As I watched..." hero than an "As I did..." hero.

    The problem with They Came from Beyond Space is that while Temple is playing by American rules, everyone else is playing by British rules. Time and time again he gets away with behavior that, were the movie's villains any good at their job, would result in his summary execution.

    Instead, his foes act out the old Robin Williams joke about the impotence of unarmed British police: "Stop! Or, or I'll say stop again!" Except these foes have guns, and more, and yet refuse to use them. It would be so impolite, you know.

    So there's no real tension in the plot -- but the good news is that They Came from Beyond Space is just off-the-wall enough to make it tolerable. Its strongest suit is probably the set design, which teeters pleasantly between "ridiculous" and "ingenious" on a scene-by-scene basis.

    Unusually, Farge (Zia Mohyeddin), the movie's best character, only pops up well after the halfway point. We enjoyed the scene in which he mournfully sacrifices his hard-earned equestrian trophies --

    -- to be melted down into headgear that protects you from alien intrusions and doubles as a handy way to drain your pasta.

    Less appealing is the film's soundtrack, in which at least one fight scene is accompanied by nothing more than a snare drum going rat-a-tat-tat over and over again.

    (Maybe the composer went on to score the battle sequences for Buck Rogers: Countdown To Doomsday on the Mega Drive? There he got fancy, and used two drums.)


    They Came from Beyond Space gets weirder and weirder as it approaches the end, with more and more outlandish props and costume design.

    And, as with the colander, we get some nice juxtapositions of the humdrum and the absurd.

    The film's conclusion feels rushed and tacked-on, though, and offers little reward for viewers who have stuck with it until the end...

    ...unless you have a thing for paunchy guys in very tight pants, in which case you'll be in clover.

    On the other hand, you could say that They Came from Beyond Space also sees its unwritten premise through: does any film more fully lay bare the tragic consequences that can happen when Ask Culture meets Guess Culture? Is the whole thing a metaphor for Anglo-American culture clash?


    Well, the thing of it is, it's awfully nice of you to, er, that is, what I mean to say is that I wish I, er, but I couldn't possibly, you understand, don't you? Now don't let's fight about it, come on, give us a smile, love.