Friday, August 10, 2018

Creature Quintuple Feature

A few years back, the Sci-Fi Channel (Siffy, if you prefer) expanded their usual New Year's Eve Twilight Zone marathon to include every single episode from the original 1959-1964 series, aired chronologically. We thought, what the heck?



So, allowing for breaks during some of the episodes we'd seen before, we proceeded to take in the entire run. It took days, and we had to endure some tedious stretches (season 4's hour-long runtimes were a mistake), but now we can say it's DONE -- we watched 'em all.



And of course it wasn't just about being completists, though making our way through discrete sets of things is, well, kind of our thing. Now, years later, we can fondly reminisce about the time we rang in the new year (and then some) lounging in our pajamas, staying up through the wee hours to catch one kinda mediocre episode after another (they can't all be Lois Nettleton in "The Midnight Sun").



It was in the same spirit that we approached the the next five movies featuring Gamera -- a giant fire-breathing turtle who spins through the air like a massive self-propelled Catherine wheel and spends way too much time hanging around with small children.



Our beloved Mill Creek 250 Horror Collection has movies #1 (Gammera [sic] the Invincible), #4 (Destroy All Planets) and #5 (Attack of the Monsters); we figured why not track down #2 (War of the Monsters) and #3 (Return of the Giant Monsters) and complete the series?



Turns out #2 is on Mill Creek's Strange Tales pack of 20 movies, all of which also appear on the 250 pack, except for War of the Monsters. Huh; oh well, internet to the rescue. To our knowledge, #3 never appeared on any Mill Creek offerings, so it was off to the internet again.



We hadn't planned to binge all five, but with a free evening ahead of us and no obligations the next morning, it somehow seemed like the right thing to do. Thus, in the span of 16 hours or so (we broke for sleep -- what can we say, we're not as young as we once were), we did just that.



Admittedly it in no way approaches the scale of our Twilight Zone viewing session; and of course, there are plenty more Gamera movies that we'd need to watch in order to call ourselves completists (and that probably won't happen). But we can now turn to one another and say "remember when we subjected ourselves to that?" And, as a gift to our future selves, we're now spared the experience of pulling out the next disc and sighing "oh boy, another Gamera movie."





Gammera the Invincible [aka Gamera, The Giant Monster] (1965)

Grade: D+



And so it begins.

Mill Creek's copy of this first foray into Gamera-land is apparently a re-edit of the original Japanese release (Gamera, the Giant Monster), with extra scenes added for the "benefit" of American audiences, and a superfluous m for good measure -- good job, guys.



Clearly it isn't good enough for Gamera to simply emerge from the Arctic ice, wreak some havoc on a scientific team, and fly off in the direction of Tokyo. What Americans desire above all else are a bunch of generals, pundits, scientists, and senators to bark, argue, insult one another, and hold Very Important Meetings to discuss at length the mere possibility of the existence of a giant, fire-spurting flying turtle.


'Cause little children have a way with G-A-M-M-E-R-A

Once that talky (and often shouty) diversion is dispensed with (and really, the scenes aren't all that bad; they just don't seem necessary), it's back to the meat of the Japanese original. Poor little Toshio; he just wants to hang out with his pet red-eared slider, but his dad and sister are having none of it.



When the über-chelonian lands at the family lighthouse, one has the inkling that this budding turtle whisperer might play some pivotal role in the proceedings.



And indeed, it's not the last we hear of the wee lad, who seems to be the only one championing the giant reptile. Even with his travels dictated by his long-suffering family -- not to mention a scientist channeling Reba McEntire's Colonel Sanders --



-- Toshio always manages to pop up his cherubic little face precisely where Gamera is doing his best knock-stuff-down act.



It's the typical monster movie cycle: the beast destroys; the scientists and/or military come up with an improbable plan; the beast thwarts the plan and goes on destroying; somebody comes up with an even more improbable plan; and so on and so forth. (Sure keeps the scale model builders in business.)



Eventually all the world governments manage to come together for one final, desperate push, and we're left cheering Gamera as he's launched into space, never to return . . .





War of the Monsters [aka Gamera vs. Barugon] (1966)

Grade: C

. . . until six months later, when a meteor hits his rocket and Gamera spins lazily back down to Earth.



Oops! Within the first five minutes, Gamera flattens a hydroelectric plant and busts open a dam, then blithely flies off to his lair, or wherever it is giant turtles like to chill out.



Then the movie takes a bit of a left turn, as we don't see Gamera again until the 52 minute mark. Instead, we're dropped into a plot by a cadre of Bad Guys (and one not-so-bad guy) to retrieve a giant opal from a remote Pacific island cave.



Turns out monster eggs look a whole lot like valuable gemstones, and after an unintended stint under a conveniently positioned heat lamp --


Aren't all ship cabins equipped with those?

-- out hatches Barugon.



With a colorful array of rainbow death rays shooting from his back -- not to mention the long, stiff tongue shooting gouts of freezing liquid -- Barugon is certainly one of the more Mazovian monsters we've come across.



Gamera, perhaps annoyed that there's another game in town, drops in to investigate.



As the monsters rumble and the scientists and military (ineffectually) plot, the baddest of the Bad Guys is still determined to retrieve his "opal," dropping bodies along the way and just generally making a nuisance of himself.



More fighting, more rainbows, more thwarted military plans, and eventually Gamera prevails and everyone's happy. Hooray!



War of the Monsters is a bit of a black sheep within the Gamera film family -- all sorts of close-range death, human-on-human violence, evil plots, greed, theft, scorpion stings, knife fights, quicksand, the works.



No "friend of children" narrative here. And what it lacks in youthful frivolity it more than makes up for with gleeful carnage, destruction, and beat-downs.



But really, who misses the kiddos when we've got festive monsters and mustachioed scientists with comically oversized cordless phones?




Return of the Giant Monsters [aka Gamera vs. Gyaos] (1967)

Grade: C-

After War of the Monster's tale of murder, intrigue, treasure hunters, and exotic islanders, it's time for a movie about . . . road construction!



That's right, a handsome foreman and his work crew are trying to get a new highway built, and the local yokels are brandishing signs and blocking their way.



Riveting stuff. At least it's a bit more complex than innocent peasants vs. big bad government, as the villagers are protesting mainly as a tactic to get more money for their land.



And they would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling monsters! You see, there's an active volcano nearby, and in that volcano lives Gyaos -- a pterodactyl-looking thing so badass that at one point it cuts off its own toe to escape from Gamera's clutches.


Is toe jam good on rice?

Gyaos accomplishes this feat of self-amputation with the ol' laser-shooting-from-the-(adorably-triangle-shaped)-mouth trick.



It's a formidable weapon, and one used to comic effect when Gyaos manages to slice a car so cleanly in two that its occupants just keep driving along in half a vehicle.



A plane gets bisected as well -- the consequences of which are rather more grim to consider.



Luckily there's a kid doing a bit of meddling too -- that would be young villager Eiichi, who was first on scene at Gyaos' emergence and keeps feeding the scientists reasonably plausible ideas on how to destroy the creature.



Most usefully, Eiichi manages to endear himself to Gamera so completely that's he's ultimately able to summon the giant turtle back from his lair for the coup de grâce.



Overall, it's the same basic format as the last Gamera film -- the new monster destroys stuff, scientists try (and fail) to thwart it, Gamera swoops in at various points to help. and a murky subplot ties it all together.



We're realizing how reluctant a hero this Gamera has turned out to be. Like a kind-hearted introvert who's endeared himself to a much more active (and trouble-prone) crowd, he simply doesn't have the heart to say "no" when he's called out of his cozy home to join the monster party.



As the responsible one of the group, he spends all night taking care of everyone and making sure the entire place doesn't get (too) trashed.



Maybe he even has a little fun in spite of himself. But, as soon as his perceived obligation is fulfilled, he gets the heck out of there and heads for safety and comfort of his underwater lair.





Destroy All Planets [aka Gamera vs. Viras] (1968)

Grade: D-

We took a break before #4 to get some sleep; we're committed to this project, but not (for the most part) gluttons for punishment. A night's rest left us bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to tackle the last two movies of our mini marathon.



It's clear from the first scene that Destroy All Planets takes a much different tack than the previous three. The title gives it away -- this is space, and Gamera has moved beyond mere terrestrial threats to help defend Earth against alien invaders.



But, after a relatively quick battle in which Gamera (kinda) prevails, we're brought back down to earth to a most wholesome scene: a joint US-Japan seaside scout camp, complete with a kumbaya song circle and everyone kitted out in full uniform.


Moonrise Kingdom, eat your heart out.

Soon we're introduced to the real stars of the film: Masao and his American friend Jim, who are clearly the resident mischief-makers in the troop.



The lads cleverly sabotage a research submarine (yellow, of course) to play a prank on their scoutmasters; this leads to their own underwater adventure and close encounter with Gamera, who manages to find trouble of his own.



It seems those aliens are back, and they mean business.



All this in just the first 15 minutes -- not a bad start! Then . . . as we watched  . . . we were suddenly hit with . . .



A clip show! And not one of those fake ones the Golden Girls did where the flashbacks were new; this was solid twenty minutes of material grabbed straight from the three movies we had just plowed through and were hoping to put (far, far) behind us. They even stuck black and white scenes from #1 among all the later color stuff!



Sure, the stock footage fit the context of aliens doing their "research" into Gamera and his habits and abilities (as THEY watched . . . ), which does figure into the plot. And maybe we could pretend that the filmmakers didn't do it to save money, and simply wanted to introduce the younger audience to Gamera's prior exploits, seeing as those other films were more PG, as compared to Destroy All Planet's kid-friendly G-ness.


No A rating, thank you.

Well, maybe except for the head slicin' . . .



. . . or Gamera impalin'. . .



. . . but heck, they did the same thing to Ursula, so who are we to judge what counts as kid-friendly violence?



Stock footage aside, this Gamera outing wasn't so terrible.The set designers and prop masters clearly had an absolute blast -- both the interior and exterior of the alien ship are chock full of stripes, patterns, shapes, flashing lights, and general space-age awesomeness.



There's mind control, puzzle solving, questionable food, and a few twists and turns to keep things interesting. And Viras, who only assumes his true form at the very end, is certainly fun to look at and a worthy adversary for Gamera.



Ultimately though, it's a movie about kids, for kids; a fun enough romp, but only if you're in a gee whiz kind of mood.



Attack of the Monsters [aka Gamera vs. Guiron(1969)

Grade: D



"Oh boy, another Gamera movie." -- Everyone at this point, including us.

Hey everyone, have you seen Santa Claus Conquers the Martians? Yes?  Good. Now, how about we do this:

For Earth kids Billy and Betty, substitute Akio and Tom (again with the American friend!)



They're out playing, find a spaceship, and you can guess the rest.



This time don't fly to Mars, but head to undiscovered planet Terra. It orbits directly opposite Earth, you see, which meant the Earthlings couldn't.



Instead of the bumbling Martian henchmen, trade up to Barbella and Florbella -- two spacesuit-clad bombshells with special plans for their young captives.



Crazy space sets, rocket ships, freaked-out parents, fighting among the villains, and an extra helping of golly gee kiddo action -- don't change a thing, you're doing great.



And finally, instead of dear old Santy Claus, have our hero Gamera swing in to save the day.



THERE.
DONE.



OK, fine, Attack of the Monsters deserves a teeny bit more credit. It isn't simply a clone of SCCTM (thank goodness) -- there are the monsters, of course, and not just two, but three! There's our pal Gamera to start, then Space Gyaos -- as you might imagine, it's simply Gyaos from #3, just painted a different color.


Totally not the same thing.

Finally the most formidable foe: knife-faced, shuriken-wielding Guiron -- who, as another blogger pointed out, is a dead ringer for the San Jose Sharks mascot, S J Sharkie.



With talk of cannibalism and an unsentimental euthanization, things are also a bit darker here than in Santy land.



But overall, the look and feel are just about the same. Bad effects, bad dialogue, too many kids, not enough teeth.


Or too many teeth. You get the picture.

And that, ladies and gentlemen and assorted canines, concludes our Gamerathon. Thank freakin' goodness.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Can I do it until I need glasses?

And now, a pair of films where the growing hirsuteness of a character's hands -- and the rest of their body, too -- is a major plot point:



Moon of the Wolf (1972)

Grade: C


Doesn't take long to figure out this one was made for TV -- and if the lack of graphic violence wasn't enough to clue us in, we certainly knew once it started fading to black at regular intervals.

Even so, this slight but amiable look at lycanthropy avoids most of the usual TV-movie traps. It's not too bland, not too pat, and occasionally even has a crisp edge to its dialogue or set pieces.

Moon of the Wolf leans heavily -- maybe too much so -- on atmospheric (i.e. muggy) shots of rural Louisiana, where it was filmed. Then again if the crew had to put up with that miserable-looking weather, more power to them for documenting what they went through. Friends of ours were victims of extortion by that state's infamously corrupt justice system, so we have no urge to visit that neck of the woods to begin with, and Moon of the Wolf did nothing to make a road trip seem more appealing.

Of course the thing about Moon of the Wolf is that the number of whodunit possibilities is really quite small -- two, by our count. It's the kind of movie where you pretty much know the identity of the werewolf from the start, but then you wonder if you aren't being tricked: maybe the whole scene (and it's a good one) with the sulfur and asafetida was a red herring, and it's really that other person.


Sadly, though, the filmmakers chose to go with the less interesting option. On top of that, if you speak French -- or are familiar with certain middling 1970s prog-folk bands -- then the film's suspense takes a hit, since the phrase that le Grandpa Joe keeps mournfully repeating in his sickbed (and other characters mangle as "lou-kah-rouk") is easy enough to break down.



Also, "AWARD"! That's right up there with a giant can that just says "FOOD" on it, or "POISON/SLEEPING TABLETS" for that matter. But after all, this is on the wall of a doctor who gets this gem of a line:

Sheriff: "How come you didn't tell me [she] was pregnant?"
Doctor: "I knew she was pregnant...I was third in my class."

If he'd gone on to recite his SAT scores, we wouldn't have been a bit surprised.



Having seen Moon of the Wolf -- which we actually watched after Queen of the Amazons and before Kong Island, but who's counting -- we've also furthered our progress in the Drive-In Movie Classics box set we plan to take on after the 250-pack. Why? Because it's on that too!

(At least it's not Shock or Snowbeast, which made their way onto both of those box sets plus the Chilling Classics set as well. Bo Svenson and Vincent Price, thrice? Seems Mill Creek likes 'em tall.)

Oh, and these dogs are dead now. Poor dogs; we hope you caught the squirrel at least once, each.



Bride of the Gorilla (1951)

Grade: D

We had to be a bit coy in our review of Moon of the Wolf to avoid spoiling the identity of the werewolf, but there's no doubt here: Raymond Burr is a gorilla.


Or he's a man who becomes a gorilla. Or a man who thinks he becomes a gorilla, à la Nicolas Cage in the wonderful Vampire's Kiss. Whatever, he'll take anything that isn't yet another fat joke or Perry Mason reference.

Burr plays Barney Chavez, a plantation foreman in Brazil who -- as Homer Simpson once observed -- dares to live out the (South) American dream by killing his boss (Paul Cavanagh), marrying his wife, and taking his stuff. In the business, we call that "the triple".

Chavez's perfidy is quietly observed by Al-Long (Gisela Werbisek), a loyal old servant with a witchy side. This gets us curses, dangerous plants -- and Werbisek's astonishingly strong resemblance to Geoffrey Palmer in drag.

(Sorry, old girl, but it had to be said. Please don't curse us.)

In 1951, Burr's star was ascending about as quickly as Lon Chaney Jr.'s was falling, though their respective highs and lows were still five or six years away. Here, the affable old fellow plays a police commissioner who feels pretty sure that Chavez did the deed, but doesn't have quite enough evidence to arrest him.


Chaney's Brazilian cop speaks perfect English, upon which Bride of the Gorilla hangs a lampshade by having him give the following hilarious speech about halfway through:

"I sometimes regret that I went to university, and then returned to this jungle with its superstitions. It only served to confuse me...How could I help being confused? My native mind is filled with these superstitions. My legal mind was developed through books, written by people without emotion."

Coming from a different actor -- say Raul Julia, or Klaus Kinski -- it might almost be plausible, but from Chaney's lips, these lines play like ground beef dropped onto a concrete floor.

The most interesting thing about Bride of the Gorilla is that it somehow feels about five years ahead of its time. Hard to pin down exactly why that is, but we were surprised to remind ourselves that it came out as early as 1951.

It also has a few loopy moments, like when the genteel Dr. Viet (Tom Conway) wants to warn Chavez's coneboobiferous wife Dina about his deterioration. (Dina is played by Barbara Payton, and boy, her life is a cautionary tale if one there ever was.)

Servant girl Larina (Carol Varga) opens the door for Dr. Viet and is hanging around, eavesdropping. But when he asks to speak with Dina alone, she abruptly gets an "Oh, what the fuck!" look on her face, smashes an object on the ground, apologizes -- and leaves, never to be seen again.

Now, we know Larina and Barney had a thing before he threw her over for Dina -- but why would a private conversation between Dina and Dr. Viet make her explode with rage? If anything she might hope that Viet, whose attraction to Dina is obvious (and unrequited), would somehow drive a wedge between them. Oh, well.

Anyway, that's Bride of the Gorilla: yet another "jungle" movie, it's not so goofy as to leave us embarrassed for anyone involved, but not compelling enough to graduate beyond the doldrums. Still, we've certainly seen worse, and Burr has a sort of smoldering, dark-eyed presence that makes him a pretty plausible antihero (even if the only "heroic" thing he does is making time to be nice to goats).

So, welcome to the jungle, Raymond -- but somehow we suspect you've been here before.


Monday, February 12, 2018

You won't get there for free

Going slightly out of order, we present to you two films about people who venture into the jungle to find a missing person -- but end up bumping into quite a (all together now) savage girl along the way.



Queen of the Amazons (1947)

Grade: D


Where shall we seek the headquarters of the titular Queen of the Amazons? Certainly not Brazil, or else she'd be queen of the Amazon singular, right?

And, it seems, not Detroit either. (No word on whether the Hartz Mountains are still in contention.)

No, it seems that when you're on an expedition that will ultimately lead you to the Queen, your first stop is...

...India? OK, that makes sense in a chaturaṅga kind of way, I suppose.

In any event, it's here that our protagonist, Jean Preston (Patricia Morison), begins the search for her missing fiancé, Greg. She's accompanied by Greg's father Colonel Jones (John Miljan), an absent-minded entomologist (Wilson Benge), and a petulant rando who practically has FRIENDZONED tattooed on his forehead ("Keith Richards (I)", as IMDb calls him).

Cue about five minutes' worth of meaningful glances, shady characters, and menacing silhouettes.

Meanwhile the situation in Akbar is tense, and getting tenser. As voiceover narration from Miljan solemnly intones, "There's an undercurrent of hatred for their present ruler, in spite of the fact that they've done everything to quiet them...there's a revolution in the offing."

Heck, they're not even appeased by the spectacle of an elephant tug-of-war -- "like baseball or football in our country", claims the narration, made retroactively prescient by PED scandals of recent decades (don't tell us those mahouts didn't slip a little extra something to Jumbo before the big match).

Ultimately a hot tip from an Indian woman and her husband reveals the truth: Greg has departed for Africa. Now, some sources claim the real-life Amazons were from modern-day Libya, so that makes sense, right? We're on our way to the Queen!

And since the natives are getting, uh, restlesser, it's a good time to get out of Akbar. (Which apparently isn't in India but, eh, whatever.)

If you're expecting camels, kufiyas, and caravanserais, though...

It's never really clear where Queen of the Amazons would have us think we are, beyond "Africa" -- which is what they keep calling their destination, as though one needs no more precision than to name the second-largest continent in the world. The village where they arrive is called Kybo, but contrary to IMDb's "goofs" page, we don't think the filmmakers had an obscure Australian outpost in mind: it's probably just a made-up name, meant to stand in for some place in East Africa.

And the natives are "upset" here too!

Anyway, there's a guy who "hates women" (Robert Lowery), and a "white goddess" dreaded by the natives (Amira Moustafa), and an ivory-smuggling plot and a mysterious saboteur and a bit of cleverness involving feet and footwear --

-- and there's sexism addressed via markmanship (markswomanship?), and racism, and target practice, and monkeys -- 


-- and obvious stock footage, and silly fight scenes, and Queen of the Amazons is a silly movie. The end.




Kong Island (1948)
(aka King of Kong Island)

Grade: D-


...though on the other hand, things can get a lot sillier. And, speaking of East Africa:

Kong Island opens with a clever gambit, as a holdup job turns deadly when one of the three robbers decides it'd be easier to just shoot everyone -- including his co-conspirators. As the only robber who objected to the massacre (before getting gunned down himself) lies in the sun, gravely wounded, the opening credits roll...

...and we abruptly cut to a four-minute scene of a microchip being implanted into a gorilla.

For this we get no explanation before cutting away again to a humid-looking villa in Nairobi, where we discover that the "good" robber Burt (Brad Harris) has indeed survived what Theodore (Aldo Cicconi) calls "that little accident of yours".

Turns out he's a gun-for-hire who just can't seem to stay away from Africa -- once again, invoking the whole continent! -- because "There's no work for us mercenaries right now." At least we know we're in Kenya, and soon enough we hear about "your mad doctor friend" Albert (Marc Lawrence), who Burt is aiming to find.

So some major plot threads seem to be coming together: Burt's revenge, plus Theodore's jealousy about the relationship Burt once had with his wife Ursula (Adriana Alben), and whatever this business is with the gorillas.

Like Queen of the Amazons, we get early gunplay from a female lead -- in this case Theodore's daughter Diana (Ursula Davis). She's all growed up now and would clearly like to boink the buff Burt, though her brother Robert (Mark Farran) isn't so thrilled about the idea.

And once again like Queen of the Amazons, our manly mercenary ends up getting drafted into leading an expedition. In fact Kong Island feels in many ways like a throwback to the "darkest Africa" movies of the 1930s and '40s. Sure, there are nightclub scenes with 1960s go-go/lounge music, and some comically awkward dancing from Harris --

-- who also gets off a good one-liner that'd never have made it past the Hays Code censors:

Ursula: "There's a guy who's been eyeing you. He's been watching you for a long time."
Burt: "Thanks, Ursula. Too bad -- he's not my type."

Once the gang goes on their expedition, though, we're soon thrust straight into the same sort of complicated-rescue plot we saw in Queen of the Amazons. At least the makers of Kong Island seem to have filmed some of their own nature shots, since it's impossible to imagine anyone paying for stock footage as ridiculously jittery and bumpy as this.

Soon comes a parade of corny tropes from a long-past era: the skittish natives afraid of a "taboo" area of the jungle; the beast on the loose -- which, given that surgery sequence, gets you no points for guessing what it is.

And then there's this:

Yes, once again we have that character beloved of schlockmeisters past: the wild white woman (Esmeralda Barros) who can communicate with jungle animals, yet has a mysterious aptitude for tasteful makeup and dental hygiene. She also, inevitably, has a certain affinity for our protagonist.

It's about at this point that we realized Kong Island was completely bananas -- an incoherently meandering, weirdly anachronistic product of filmmakers who seem to take trash films like Jungle Man, The White Gorilla, and The Savage Girl as their point of departure. It's as if you took a couple of Italian kids whose exclusive cinematic diet was watching B-movies set in sub-Saharan Africa on UHF stations, and then gave them carte blanche to script and direct a film.

The problem is that Kong Island's ambitions -- and its stylistic decisions -- get in the way of what little fun is to be had. There are too many subplots and peripeteias, too many minor characters not worth caring about, and the movie has a nasty, gritty edge (including an implied marital rape scene) that keeps it from earning that term beloved of lazy reviewers, the "enjoyable romp".

Add to that the clumsy, stupid denouement, and the verdict's in: Kong Island may be bananas, but by the end it's an overripe Cavendish -- and who wants that?


Well, some people do, apparently.