HERCULES AGAINST THE MOON MEN (1964) – A Review
 

AKA: MACISTE E LA REGINA DI SAMAR

 

For a variety of reasons, American movie goers in the 1960s got to be very familiar with characters like Hercules and Maciste. The number of films produced by American studios dropped greatly after the (for the movie business) boom years of World War II. But the number of theaters in the U.S. didn’t drop in similar numbers, which left many theaters, especially smaller and second-run theaters, scrambling for product to show.

At the same time, several European countries, trying to rebuild their film and other economies, put limits on the amounts of money American studios could take out of their countries. This led to an increase in American dollars being invested in producing and/or distributing films from those countries – it was one method, in a roundabout way, to try and get your money back to the U.S.

Also, some of those same countries were offering big tax breaks to encourage domestic film production, so in many European countries it became very inexpensive to produce films – films that would still have high production values. One of those countries was Italy, which, at the time, was also one of the four or five biggest film markets in the world.

With all these factors twining together, by the early 60s the floodgates had opened, and it was “Hello, Hercules!” at a great many American theaters. (There was also a corresponding flood of similar movies going straight to TV in the U.S. in the same period, which tells you how many of these type of movies were being produced.)

And so we come to Hercules Against the Moon Men. I tried to watch this as though I was a kid in the 60s seeing it in a theater, all hopped up on soda and candy. (Full disclosure: No candy or soda was actually consumed while I watched this.) From that perspective, I think that this film, more so than a lot of similar films from the same period, delivered the goods.

Does Hercules engage in feats of great strength? Yes he does. He hefts and tosses dead trees, smashes through walls, and bends iron bars. Does Hercules face certain death? Yes he does. There are numerous hand-to-Herc combats, and one awesome spiked death trap. Are there monsters? Yes there are. There are giant (and slow and stilted) rock monsters, and a sabre-toothed ape creature.

 

 

Cutting to the chase, are there Moon Men? Well, yes, technically. The real villain of the film is the evil Queen Samara (Jany Clair), who is exploiting her own people and working in cahoots with the Moon Men, who have a base inside the Mountain of Death. Still, there are Moon Men, so…

 

 

Poor Hercules (played by Sergio Ciani, but billed As “Alan Steel” in the U.S.) is kept busy pretty much from the moment he arrives in the city of Samar. After a certain point, it became humorous how much the terrorized locals were depending on Hercules. There’s scene after scene of them going to him for help, and, being the good guy he is, Hercules is always ready to lend a hand. At one point he even seems to be helping the evil Queen Samara, but of course, he’s just pretending to get information he needs to help the people of Samar.

On the other hand, there’s not much that can help the functional-but-that’s-all dubbed dialogue. It consists mostly of lines like, “Come on! Let’s storm the palace!” or “Hurry! To the Mountain of Death!” Not inspiring, but it keeps things moving for the most part.

Though this may not be the most intellectual of entertainments, it does seem to contain something for almost everyone. As explained above, there are monsters and battles for the kids. If Dad had happened to come along for the show, he’d probably enjoy the shapely female residents of Samar. If Mom came along, well, there were at least three or four tight close-ups of Ciani/Steel’s shapely and always well-oiled pecs, not to mention his biceps, etc.



It may not be a “real” piece of mythology, but as a piece of flashy, fun cinematic history, I personally think this Hercules is pretty good. And I’m sure it’d be even better with some candy and soda.

 

HIGH SCHOOL BIG SHOT (1959) – A Review

My wife and I have been getting ready to go to the Film Noir Festival in San Francisco by watching movies set and shot in San Francisco – including Dirty Harry (1971), The Conversation (1974) and Zodiac (2004). Without even including The Sniper (1952) and The Lineup (1958), it sure seems like SF is a great city to get murdered in, eh?

Anyway, we’ve also been taking some controlled, appetizer-like doses of noir films, so I introduced my wife to a rough little gem she had never seen. Said gem is High School Big Shot, a film that, thankfully, does not live up to its title. Unlike films with remarkably similar titles from that period – like High School Confidential! (1958), High School Hellcats (1958), High School Caesar (1960), etc. – HSBS tells a story that doesn’t focus on school at all, though the lead character, Marv Grant (Tom Pittman) is a high school student. But the majority of the film takes place away from the school, and it’s really a fairly tight little crime picture with a somewhat misleading title.

Marv, whose father is a no-good drunk, is hooked on Betty (Virginia Aldridge). But Betty has her sights set on landing a guy with lots of dough, which leaves poor Marv on the outs. Marv thinks he hears opportunity knocking when he overhears his boss at the warehouse planning a big buy of heroin, with said deal requiring a million bucks to be – briefly – placed in the safe in the warehouse. So Marv finds some help to crack the safe and score the cash. Meanwhile, Marv’s told Betty his plans, and she in turn tells her caveman boyfriend about the deal – and he and his pals plan to rob the robbers after they empty out the safe. It all ends with a lot of gunfire and more characters dying than not.

 

 

So yeah, the title isn’t so accurate, and yeah, the actors playing high school students are well past their teens. But, other than that, I think this is a solid little crime picture that should satisfy crime and noir fans quite well. The plot is simple, but engaging. There are some familiar character actors sprinkled throughout the cast (Byron Foulger, Malcolm Atterbury, Stanley Adams). The lead, Tom Pittman, is a suitable noir-type fall guy undone by a dame. And the ending is certainly pretty bleak. What’s not to like?

Postscript: In a sadly noir-like ending in real life, Pittman, who some were touting as the “next” James Dean, died in a car crash on Halloween in 1958. So this film, his first leading role, was released posthumously not quite a year later. He was 26 years old.

 

 

 

BLUES BUSTERS (1950) – A Review

Full (and possibly shameful) disclosure: I have seen every single Bowery Boys movie made – all 48 of ‘em. So, with each film running a little over an hour, that’s at least two full days of my life given over to the Boys. Given, mind you, though most of their movies are, to be kind, pretty terrible.

But this entry in the series may well be their shining hour, or, more accurately, their shining 67 minutes. (Thus it’s one of a handful I’ve seen more than once.) The plot - one of the few they didn’t endlessly recycle – goes like this: Sach (Huntz Hall) has his tonsils removed, and after the operation, he can “sing like Bing” (courtesy of John Laurenz, who dubbed Hall’s singing voice). His pal Slip (Leo Gorcey) sees dollar signs at this development, and sets out to exploit the situation, promoting Sach as “The Bowery Thrush.” Comedy ensues – and for once, it’s often actually funny.

 

Though Hall was often the focal point of various plots in various Bowery Boys movies (remember, there were 48 of them), this is one of the few chances he had to really and truly shine as a comic performer. Despite the totally accidental nature of his new talent, it doesn’t take long for The Bowery Thrush to become an insufferable prima donna, which allows Hall to fuss, preen and pose to good effect. The short running time is his best friend in this, in that the slim plot is over and done before it has a chance to run out of steam.

Though many of the usual Bowery Boys suspects are in place here (director William “One Shot” Beaudine, screenwriter Charles R. Marion, producer Jan Grippo), for whatever reason the stars aligned in favor of this particular episode. I well realize that the juvenile antics and low-budget bonhomie of the Bowery Boys will not appeal to everyone. But, if you’re a fan, or are just looking for a fun way to kill an hour (well, 67 minutes), then you could do a lot worse than this.

Related notes: After making his film debut with Gorcey and Hall in Dead End (1937), and continuing on with “the gang” in some fashion through various incarnations as the Dead End Kids, the Little Tough Guys, the Junior G-Men, the East Side Kids, and finally the Bowery Boys, this was Gabriel Dell’s final film with them. William “Billy” benedict, on the other hand, had several more Bowery Boys outings to go before he left, but here he already looks old enough to be collecting his pension. (All the “boys” were in their 30s by this point…)

Final personal disclosure: I am at a loss to fully explain my fondness for the Bowery Boys. I just accept that it is part of who I am.

 

ALL IS LOST (2013) – A Review

A remarkably simple yet engaging story: An old man (Robert Redford) alone on a boat in the Indian Ocean awakens to find that his vessel has collided with a stray shipping container. Said collision has put a sizable hole in the side of his boat. Troubles follow.

This simple-yet-radical film is one that can be taken or interpreted several different ways…

The Monster Movie: This is terror in a truly elemental form. In All is Lost, the monster is the biggest one ever seen on screen – an ocean. As Redford’s troubles mount, so does the tension. Very, very few full-on horror films have ever achieved the sustained level of tension that this film does. As a straight ahead thriller, All is Lost more than holds its own.

The Metaphor, Part 1: The old man is America, adrift on the world economy. The shipping container is China, which fatally damages America’s ability to stay afloat.

The Metaphor, Part 2: It’s the environment, stupid. Our tiny little boat (civilization), afloat on the ocean (the natural world) is finally sunk by the weight of pollution our disposable culture produces (symbolized by a shipping container full of Chinese-made shoes).

The Experimental Film: How many films are there that you can think of that feature just one person, and essentially no dialogue? I can’t think of any. But that’s what you get here. With CGI and special effects extravaganzas having become almost the only thing Hollywood produces, we’ve gotten used to thinking of films as a visual medium more than ever. But the absence of any dialogue in All is Lost shows just how ubiquitous and important the spoken word has become in films. Not that the film suffers from the lack of it – not at all. It’s just that the lack of language is so novel at this point. This could easily have been a silent film – three or four title cards would take care of all the speaking you’ll hear.

It was an oddly circular week of films for my wife and me. We started off on Monday with a digital projection of an actual silent film (The Golem) from 1920. Though The Golem was a digital print, the image was a little soft, due to the age of the original materials.

Then, on Friday, when silent-but-with-sound All is Lost started up, I could hear the familiar soft whirr of the 35mm projector in the booth behind us. It was a pleasant surprise. The print of the film had a few lines and scratches, but the images, free from the weaknesses of digital imagery, were sharp and clear. As we watched, and the projector whirred behind us, I thought that the film’s title, All is Lost, was appropriate for what will probably be the last new, mainstream movie I see in 35mm. That is a technology now essentially lost to the digital era – an era that does not, in my opinion, live up to its hype. Digital is cheaper, and easier, and too often looks it.

But I digress. All is Lost is a film I think would appeal to many different film goers, many different perspectives. While fully engaging you as a viewer, it also allows you a great deal more room to ponder and interpret for yourself than most films do. If the film is indeed a kind of experiment, I think it is a successful one. Sadly, we now know that success does not include any real recognition from Oscar voters, but the Oscars have never really been about quality anyway.

All is Lost is a film of quality. It deserves your attention. You will not be disappointed.

When I was growing up in the 1970s, Russell Johnson was one of those character actors who seemed to be in everything from the 1950s, both movies and TV shows. Even in small parts, his sharp, handsome features and pleasant voice always stood out. Though he had a nondescript name, and was rarely a leading player, I always recognized him and welcomed his presence. He projected a quiet authority that, for me, sort of made him the acting equivalent of comfort food.

 

With his passing, almost all the focus has been on his (admittedly iconic) role on that stupid show, so I will gratefully bypass any further mention of that. As you’ll see, Russell Johnson was someone well worth remembering for the entirety of his career, not just one role on one show.

 

Johnson started his acting career the hard way: After being in a plane that was shot down in the Philippines during World War II (earning him a Purple Heart), he used his G.I. Bill benefits to enroll in acting school. He obviously picked the right career path, because by 1950 he was making his acting debut on the TV series Fireside Theatre. In 1952, he made his motion picture debut in For Men Only, a B drama starring and directed by Paul Henreid.

 

 

And from then on, Russell was off and running, most often appearing in science fiction stories, crime dramas, or westerns. On TV he was seen in Adventures of Superman, Wonder Woman, The Outer Limits, The Twilight Zone, Thriller, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Lone Ranger, Route 66, Ben Casey, The F.B.I., Gunsmoke, The Big Valley, Wagon Train and both Lassie and The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin.

 

In the movies, he was seen in the crime picture, Loan Shark (1952), the car racing drama Johnny Dark (1954), and westerns such as The Stand at Apache River (1953), Tumbleweed (1953) and Ride Clear of Diablo (1954). In 1957 he co-starred with fellow character actor Dick Miller in Roger Corman’s Rock All Night.

 

 

And then there were the science fiction films: It Came from Outer Space (1953), which was part of the first 3-D craze. Then there’s the big budget This Island Earth (1955). And the no budget but wonderful Attack of the Crab Monsters (1957), again for Roger Corman. As a kid growing up and discovering the magic of movies, busy character actors like Russell Johnson were like part of an extended (perhaps very extended) family. Of course, you didn’t actually know them, but they were always around. 

 

 

 

I can still vividly remember sitting in the Craterian Theater in Medford, Oregon, as a kid, watching a 3-D revival of It Came from Outer Space, with the distracting red and blue glasses perched on the bridge of my nose. The scene where the space monster meets and gobbles up Russell Johnson is one that reverses the usual 3-D protocol of things coming out at the audience. But in this scene, the audience sees things from the perspective of the alien, as it moves in towards a terrified Johnson. Even if he had never acted again after that film, that image would always be seared into my memory.

 

 

Of course, Russell Johnson did act again – and again, and again. And that’s why he’s worth remembering.

 

 

THE GOLEM (1920) - A Review

 

Last night we had the pleasure of going downtown to the Whiteside Theatre (still in the process of being restored, but looking great) to see the silent German film, The Golem, with a new piano score performed live by its composer, Beth Karp. My wife and I got to the theater just as the outside lights came on, and there were already a few other people there. By the time the doors opened there was a good sized crowd waiting to get in, and, by the time the film actually started, I'd guess the crowd had grown to something like 500 people. Who knew that German films from the 1920s were such a draw?

 



Anyway, for those who don't know the legend of the Golem, it's a defender of the Jewish people that's made of clay or other materials, and brought to life by invoking a secret magic word. In any case, that's the Golem we see in the film, and though he is a welcome defender at first, eventually he strikes out - literally - on his own, and then must be destroyed. In the Golem, we can see the roots of many a man-made monster and cautionary tale, perhaps the most obvious being Frankenstein. (When we got home, my wife asked, "Is Gort a Golem?" I think Gort is indeed a Golem.)

 

Silent films are so far removed from what we are used to today, such a completely different cinematic animal, that it's difficult to "judge" them fairly. Some of the acting in this film should really be called over-acting, or wild emoting. The gestures are so broad, the style so out-of-touch with modern expectations, that some of it is, unfortunately, humorous.





But...The Golem itself, as played by the six-foot-six Paul Wegener (who also directed and co-wrote the film), is a figure of imposing presence. Playing a character that does not speak, Wegener is not hindered by the film's silence, and he manages the create a creature that is visually striking and often quite menacing. When the Golem finally goes on a rampage, and the streets are filled with hundreds of extras fleeing, and flames are ripping across the red-tinted screen, The Golem creates a majesty and sense of menace that stands the test of time. (Again, my wife commented, "People at the time this came out must have been terrified." I think she's right about that, too.)

 

The new score by Beth Karp was just fine, and helped to move the film along. I don't know if you'll ever get to hear her score - who knows what the market is for an updated DVD of The Golem - but it was nice to have her there to make the evening that much more special. It all took me right back to being a kid, hiding behind the couch at the house of one of my mom's friends as the adults watched a 16mm print of Nosferatu (1922). Silence isn't just golden - it can be pretty damned spooky, too.



HAVE A GOOD FUNERAL, MY FRIEND…SARTANA WILL PAY (1970) – A Review

 

AKA: BUON FUNERALE AMIGOS!...PAGA SARTANA

One of many westerns featuring the ever mysterious character of Sartana, played here by Gianni Garko. In this one, which falls somewhere in the middle of his numerous film appearances, the plot is the familiar “bad guy wants your land (for gold/oil/a railroad) and will do anything (lie/cheat/steal/kill) to get it.” Sartana – did I mention he’s ever mysterious? – winds up in the middle of things, helping the lovely young Abigail Benson hold on to the land left to her by her uncle against the depredations of, well, of pretty much everybody in the movie, actually.

While not as stylish as some of the better known Italian westerns, nor as realistic as others (too many clean people and streets here), this movie offers a lot to enjoy for those who aren’t expecting things to conform too closely to reality.

Sartana Will Pay is actually fairly light on gunplay for a western; Sartana seems to favor a small, dainty pistol in many cases, though he’s no slouch with a rifle, either. He also knocks some heavies around with his pocket watch and fob, and uses playing cards as weapons on several occasions. As I watched the many unusual weapons used in this film, and some of the odd fights, I kept being reminded of Jackie Chan. So it was only appropriate, I guess, that at the end of the film Sartana has a kung fu fight with the evil Chinese owner of a casino. Something for everyone, right?

This last touch may have been courtesy of screenwriter Giovanni Simonelli, who a few years later would help bring Mr. Hercules Against Karate (1973) to the screen. The other screenwriter here, Roberto Gianviti, would go on to work on a number of interesting films directed by Lucio Fulci, including A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin (1971), Don’t Torture a Duckling (1972) and The Psychic (1977). Given the breadth and (weird) depth of these writer’s credits, it’s not surprising that their take on the western would be a little off kilter. Frankly, I admired the way they melded the cliché (see plot synopsis above) with the offbeat. I don’t know if it was meant to be tongue in cheek or campy, but I do know it was a lot of fun.

As for the title…It’s literally true. As Sartana goes about dispatching various bad guys, and collecting the bounties on their heads, he always follows up by paying for their funerals. Well, except for Colorado Joe, who winds up being blown up in a mining tunnel. Still, technically, Sartana does see that he’s buried, so…