Beauty killed the beast

KING KONG (1933)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

1933's "King Kong" is the granddaddy of all modern horror and disaster films. Amazing to think how audiences reacted back then to the sight of a giant ape in a forgotten island, taken to New York City where he runs on the loose. Audiences were terrified back then and understandably so. "King Kong" is not a great movie by any means, but it is a fun-filled ride and the special-effects are awesome in their own way.

The story has Carl Denham (Robert Armstrong), a daring, adventurous filmmaker who is looking for the next scream queen in one of his pictures. He finds a wandering woman in the streets of Manhattan, Ann Darrow (Fay Wray), whom he's convinced will be a major star. They are off and running, headed for a ship voyage to an unknown island unlisted in any map, Skull Island. Of course, a dim sailor (Bruce Cabot) takes an interest in Ann, especially when she is photographed in lascivious, provocative poses by Carl. Carl's intention is to see how she'll look when horrified by something unnatural. Eventually, they make it to the island, which is surrounded by fog and inhabited by a native tribe who keep chanting the name "Kong." The ship crew is seen by the natives who are clearly interested in the blonde babe, Ann. During the night, some natives kidnap Ann as a sacrifice for Kong. It turns out Kong is a 25-50 foot burly ape who pounds his chest and can wrestle giant snakes, T-rexes and pterodactyls. He also has a way with heavy wooden logs and women. This Skull Island is clearly the land that time forgot.

What delivers in "King Kong" is the sight of this ape and all the special-effects necessary to make it believable. This was the time of the groundbreaking work of stop-motion animation, thanks to Willis O'Brien who pioneered those effects (check out 1925's "The Lost World" for some amazing dinosaur effects). As a result, there was a jerkiness to the effects that lend it some modicum of credibility. Even Ray Harryhausen, who later utilized the possibilities of stop-motion animation even further, was recently quoted as saying that they had a nightmarish quality. Very true, and that is why nobody has forgotten the original King Kong creature. He is as much a part of the New York City skyline as the Empire State Building. It has a peculiar magic realism that today's CGI effects lack.

That is not to say that everything else in "King Kong" is as eye-openingly incredible. The performances by Armstrong, Cabot and Fay Wray (a helluva screamer) wouldn't merit a mention on any Broadway playbill - there is not much depth or personality to these actors. The dialogue stinks and is as witless as they come, though I liked the line said by a New Yorker in reference to men being like gorillas. What does work is King Kong, a creature unlike any other in cinematic history. He is an angry beast who wants his female companion to stick with him, even laying near his feet at the top of the Empire State Building as he fights attacking biplanes. He is seen as a terror by all, though I think making Armstrong something of a good guy at the end when he utters the famous line, "It was beauty that killed the beast" is clearly off-the-mark.

The main reasons to see "King Kong" are to see Kong in action, particularly demolishing everything in his path. And there are those close-ups of Kong munching on citizens of New York and the tribesmen of Skull Island (shots that were initially cut out of the original release). And who can forget Kong as he practically strips poor Fay Wray while she sleeps (another censored scene)! If you can get past the wooden acting and cliched dialogue, "King Kong" will deliver as a nightmare ride of epic proportions.

Wimpish GLASSES

GRANDMA'S BOY (1922)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 

"Grandma's Boy" is not a riotous Harold Lloyd comedy with death-defying stunts, but it is a quieter, sublime film that thrives on sweetness and sympathy to make it work. And there are some hysterically funny scenes as well.

Lloyd is the weak, wimpish Sonny, who would rather let someone humiliate him than fight back. This is evident from an early scene where a bullish, headstrong man known as the Bully (Charles Stevenson) throws Sonny into a well! Sonny pines for the lovely Mildred (Mildred Davis) but the burly, arrogant Bully wants her too, and even takes credit for making ice cream with Mildred when it was Sonny who did all the hard work. Those were the days.

Sonny lives with his steadfast, feisty grandmother (Anna Stevenson), who devotes herself to making Sonny happy (and will chase away unwanted guests in her lawn with a broom!) Grandma gives Sonny a suit for a special occasion at Mildred's house, when it turns out the same suit is worn by the house servant! Then there are the mothballs that are confused with candy, the goose grease on Sonny's shoes that attracts the attention of several house cats, a Civil War flashback told as a tall tale with Lloyd as Sonny's grandfather that will leave you in stitches, and an extended fight scene inside a barn that is so expertly and flawlessly conceived, you wonder why today's action films can't contain as much zing in their own fight scenes.

"Grandma's Boy" was originally conceived as a drama with chuckles and sight gags interspersed throughout (reportedly after initially poor test screenings). It is Lloyd's first feature-length film and it is a sweet, delectable surprise -a film that benefits from developing its main character from a wimp with a childlike innocence to a man who can stand up for himself. Of course, this is nothing new in the annals of literature or cinema, but Lloyd and company succeed in making it seem all new again (especially when Sonny's grandmother is the one to witness Sonny's gradual transformation and triumphs, not Mildred. I am not giving anything anyway by saying that he still wins Mildred's heart). Aside from Chaplin, Lloyd may well be considered one of the great humanists of silent comedy for his unreserved compassion and commitment to playing lovable, klutzy "Glasses" nerds who were men as well. This film proves it.

Rebel With a Jelly Cause

THE BLOB (1958)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I never found anything scary about a gooey mass of Jello crash landing on Earth and devouring everything in its path. Still, this is something of a cult film in the 50's sci-fi B movie genre and you could do worse, but you could also do better.

Steve McQueen, in his acting debut, is a young teenager named Steve who is on an innocent date with his girlfriend, Jane (Anita Courseaut). They observe a meteor crashing in the distance and they go investigate. An old-timer's hand is sucked by this blob from the meteor and almost runs into the teens' car. Before long a doctor and his assistant are involved, a cute little pooch, the disbelieving policemen who do not believe Steve's story, and a movie theater and diner (50's consumerist icons) are being corrupted by the pink slime that is slowly growing. The police think it is all a prank except for Lt. Dave (Earl Rowe), who doesn't think Steve has a lying bone in his body.

For 50's fans of the Rebel Without a Cause variety, there is a bizarre scene of a chicken race except it involves the cars driving in reverse. Steve McQueen gives the best performance in the film, which may not be saying a whole lot considering the indifferent, undistinguished cast. I suppose the picture is mild fun for a while, though it stalls frequently and takes an eternity to get to its slimy climax. "The Blob" is a 50's replica of a B-movie though it is considerably bland and played far too straight. I wanted to laugh when McQueen calls for the police's attention by honking on car horns and issuing an air raid siren! How did he manage to get an air raid siren to go off? 

Believe it or not, that is the question

CURSE OF THE DEMON aka NIGHT OF THE DEMON (1957)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Curse of the Demon" could pass itself off as a 50's B monster movie but it has A talent and an A+ director so attention must be paid. Despite a rather silly-looking monster, "Curse of the Demon" is a sophisticated, creepy flick that will make you feel uneasy.

Dana Andrews is Dr. Holden, an American psychologist and author who is skeptical of demonology and demonic monsters on the loose. He travels to London to attend a demonology seminar when he gets wind that his friend, Professor Harrington, was killed in a strange accident involving power lines. Harrington's niece, Joanna (Peggy Cummins), a kindergarten teacher, feels differently  - she feels it was a demon. Adding to his skepticism is a weird seance where a lively song is sung; a certain goateed Karswell (lucidly played by Niall MacGinnis), a demonology expert and worshipper who can summon evil spirits and bad thunderstorms and entertain kids in clown makeup; parchments containing runic symbols, and Stonehenge itself.

"Curse of the Demon" is smoothly and masterfully directed by Jacques Tourneur, who helmed one of my favorite films, 1942's "Cat People." Here, the accent is also on shadows, specifically two eerie nighttime sequences involving a forest and Karswell's ginormous home. And there are some clever touches, including Holden's point-of-view after his meeting with Karswell where the screen seems to vibrate in a trance-like manner. There are several shots of corridors where a menace may or may not linger. I also love a scene where there is an examination of one patient who is hypnotized - you'll wonder what will happen next and when Holden will realize that demons might exist. Plus the music score with its screeching sounds of incoming trains, wild animals and thunder are sure to make your palms sweat.

"Curse of the Demon" (originally titled "Night of the Demon" and recut for U.S. audiences) does have the aforementioned silly-looking monster who appears right at the beginning of the film and in a later scene. I can forgive its inclusion because the ending of the film retains a certain ambiguity through the lead character. Even if you witness supernatural evil, that doesn't mean you believe it.

Karloff the Uncanny Monster

FRANKENSTEIN (1931)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 Although Boris Karloff's makeup and performance have entered the pop culture realm, this "Frankenstein" version from 1931 is not the best or the most faithful of Mary Shelley's novel. Still, compared to most other film versions (there have been over 100), it is one of the most effective and, perhaps, one of the most atmospheric.

James Whale's "Frankenstein" stars the harsh presence of Colin Clive as the mad Dr. Frankenstein, slaving away at creating life from a corpse inside a remote watchtower. He gets assistance from Fritz (Dwight Frye), a hunchback who inadvertently steals a criminal brain from the local medical school. Once the creation, now with a criminal brain, is brought to life with the use of electrical devices and a brewing storm, it begins to wreck havoc, escaping his prison and tormenting the local villagers. Eventually, Frankenstein leaves the castle for more modest surroundings, and is ready to marry his adoring Elizabeth (Mae Clarke) until terror strikes again in the face of the wandering Monster.

There are far too many inconsistencies in the film to warrant the heaps of praise it has received since it was initially released. Number one: how does the Monster know about Frankenstein's bride-to-be and why does he attack her? Number two: how is it that a villager knows his drowned daughter was murdered by the Monster? Could she not have just drowned? Number three: where does the film take place? Germany? Scotland? And what is with all the German and Slavic names when everyone speaks with an English accent?

Such inconsistencies aside, "Frankenstein" certainly has a lot to recommend it. Karloff is menacing, tender, sympathetic, cruel, and pathetic as the Monster - his first appearance where he walks slowly facing Frankenstein and stares inertly still sends chills to my spine. I admire Colin Clive's hard-edged performance as the scientist - he shows the doctor's mental breakdown and exhaustion perfectly. Mae Clarke does not have a lot of screen time but she is sweetly innocent - her scenes with John Boles as Victor, Henry and Elizabeth's mutual friend, suggests that Victor has mutual affection for her. Edward Van Sloan (who appeared the same year as Professor Van Helsing in "Dracula") is the most watchable presence on screen as an old professor who has a keen interest in this creation, though he is nonplussed by it at the beginning. He also presents the film in a prologue, which had not been in all existing prints, where he warns the audience that it may shock them, perhaps terrify them.

"Frankenstein" had some major trims in its original release thanks to the Production Code. One was the deletion of Maria's drowning, as she is thrown in the lake by the Monster who expects her to float like the daisies. Originally, it had just shown the Monster smiling and reaching out its hands to the girl. This minor trim makes the preceding scene of her father carrying her lifeless body far more violent than intended.

The other deletion was a line of dialogue said by Dr. Frankenstein after the first signs of life in the Monster. The deleted line - "In the name of God, now I know what it feels like to be God" - was certainly essential and in keeping with Mary Shelley's theme of man's attempt to emulate God.

"Frankenstein" is not a perfect film and not nearly as unifying as a whole as the superior "Bride of Frankenstein," the latter in my estimation is the best damn version ever. If nothing else, Karloff still makes one shudder and that is enough to consider the film a horror classic - he makes the film his own.

Lugosi sinks his teeth into the most famous bloodsucker

DRACULA (1931)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 Whether it is Bela Lugosi's frighteningly icy stare or Dwight Frye's madly incessant need for bugs, this "Dracula" is among the most beautiful interpretations of Bram Stoker's famous novel (though it does take all kinds of liberties from the original text). It is certainly Lugosi who brings an eerie sense of menace to the film, and he makes you actually feel uneasy while watching it.

At the beginning of this dreamlike film, we are treated to the sight of a carriage on its way to Transylvania. Mr. Renfield (Dwight Frye) is in the carriage which will take him to Castle Dracula for a business venture. "Castle Dracula?" asks one of the superstitious gypsies. "No!!!" Nevertheless, despite ominous warnings from the townspeople, Renfield continues on his journey. He finally arrives at the castle (minus a driver) and meets the graceful Count (Bela Lugosi) at the top of a staircase. Here Lugosi has one of his many famous lines during the first half-hour: "I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome," says Lugosi.

We finally enter the vast dining room where dinner awaits but there is no servant. The Count acts as host and stares at Renfield, wraithlike and obviously hungry for his blood. Renfield cuts his finger with a butterknife and attracts some bloodcurling attention from Dracula before being abruptly stopped by a dangling crucifix.

Afterwards, Renfield falls victim to the Count's fangs and becomes his servant, as they make the trek to Dracula's new property at Carfax Abbey in England. It is there where the Count immerses himself in the company of Dr. Seward (Herbert Bunston), his daughter, Mina Seward (Helen Chandler), and Jonathan Harker (mild-mannered David Manners). Of course, there are some pretty necks to take advantage of in the meantime, while the corpses with neck wounds baffle everyone except for vampire expert Dr. Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan). Meanwhile, the deliriously mad Renfield (with his famously chattering laugh) is a patient at Dr. Seward's hospital, and thus contemplates with his lack of sanity and unwillingness to do his Master's bidding.

"Dracula" was directed by Tod Browning, who a year later helmed the controversial and frightening horror film "Freaks." Here, his astute direction plays tricks with the audience, and he does a competent job with the superb cinematographer Karl Freund. This telling of Dracula leaves everything to the imagination. In one shockingly good scene, Harker notices that there is a wolf outside the house after Dracula hastily leaves. Naturally, the wolf is Dracula, but in this film, we never see him change into a bat, wolf or fog. In fact, Lugosi never has any noticeable fangs! To make the film really work your imagination, we never see him arise from a coffin. Each time a coffin's lid is open, we see a close-up shot of a hand lifting it while the camera pans away to the left and back to the right to witness the Count standing next to the coffin with the lid closed!

What makes this "Dracula" indelible in everyone's minds is Lugosi - he was perfectly cast as the Hungarian accented Count. His frozen stares and piercing eyes evoke an unforgettable image of an animal seeking its prey yet doing it with poise and subtlety. This by no means is the best of the vampire flicks (both "Nosferatu" versions can lay claim to that status) yet all the sequels and remakes of the world will never match Bela Lugosi's bloody good performance.

Footnote: Originally, "Dracula" was released without an actual musical score, despite the use of the famous "Swan Lake" excerpt by Tchaikovsky played during the introductory and closing credits. Recently, avante-garde composer Philip Glass composed a truly melodic and moody score to accompany the film for the first time.

Kubrick's space flight, and beyond

2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (1968)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

In my early childhood, two images stayed with me and frightened me. One was the Mona Lisa, a reproduction that was hanging in my bedroom wall. The other was the Star Child from "2001: A Space Odyssey." I am still not sure why the latter frightened me so but I think a giant baby inside a shimmering, circular sphere would be enough to impress any 6-year-old. "2001: A Space Odyssey" has many memorable images and, in my mind, it is still the best science-fiction film ever made - the only one to truly capture the essence of space travel, from Jupiter to the infinite where the ineffable mysteries of what lies ahead holds a certain fascination for many of us here on Earth. I think that we tend to forget that we're a small point of interest in the universe and "2001" makes us feel how insignificant we are.

Based on Arthur C. Clarke's short story, "The Sentinel," "2001" begins with the famous "Dawn of Man" section where numerous apes are seen living in cavernous surroundings. Leopards are predominant and hungry in the horizon. The apes shield themselves from other animals or fellow apes by mostly growling...but their peaceful existence is out to be demolished in one swift stroke. One particular ape, the Moonwatcher, develops the intelligence to realize that a bone can be used as a weapon - not only to eat meat by means of hunting and killing animals, but as a defense against other irate apes. And so, while his group of apes growls at the others, Moonwatcher strikes one ape with a bone. The peaceful, vegetarian apes have learned that violence can be instrumental in establishing order and change. And so the slow-motion shot of the Moonwatcher triumphantly throwing the bone up in the air segues to a magnificent transitional cut to the Orion spaceship of the 21st century - man has evolved and now space, which was a sight for the apes who gazed at the bright moonlit sky, has become the new frontier for more discoveries and perhaps new signs of intelligence.

It is the year 2001, as we see ships gracefully travelling through space. One of them carries Dr. Heywood Floyd (William Sylvester), an American scientist travelling from earth to a lunar space station. At the station, Floyd discusses with other Americans about the discovery of a monolith at Clavius, a station on the moon. There is a wonderfully subtle scene where, prior to the meeting, Floyd is reluctant to discuss the situation at Clavius to a couple of curious Russian scientists - he claims to know nothing about it yet admits he is unable to discuss it.

The Clavius excavation is followed by the mission to Jupiter where astronauts Dr. David Bowman (Keir Dullea) and Dr. Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood) are travelling in the Discovery ship. On board are three scientists who are in deep hibernation for the length of the trip and the HAL 9000 computer (voiced by Douglas Rain), who is the brains and the eyes of the ship. Bowman and Poole are unaware of the purpose of the mission but HAL knows - unfortunately, HAL may have committed an error in judgment on a supposedly malfunctioning antenna. Bowman and Poole feel nothing is wrong with the ship's antennae, according to their thorough observations as well as that of another HAL 9000 computer's test from the U.S. Mission Control. Is HAL wrong, or are the astronauts erroneous in their calculations? Can a supercomputer like HAL make a mistake or are the humans at fault?

The final half-hour of the film is one of the most superbly suspenseful, thrilling, visionary moments in the history of film. After Bowman realizes that HAL has intent to kill before letting anyone jeopardize the mission, he quickly disconnects HAL and begins a journey into the infinite when a floating monolith makes contact with him. Thus, Bowman sees a dazzling array of formations of geometric shapes of lights, clusters of stars, an infinite number of colored rays and, finally, an eighteenth century bedroom where noises and laughter are heard bouncing along the corridors of the unique decor. It is here where Bowman sees himself as a dying old man and, ultimately, becomes the Star Child - the last evolutionary step for mankind.

Most audiences and critics were understandably puzzled by the film since more questions are drawn up than answers (imagine how poorly this film would have fared if it played in theaters today where implication is always eroded in favor of explicating). Does Dave Bowman become the Star Child? Is the monolith an alien intelligence or an evolutionary step in mankind, or both? In answer to that question, I interpret the monolith, as I always have, as the next step in the evolutionary ladder and a sign of evolving intelligence, as demonstrated in the Dawn of Man sequence. Strangely enough, I never thought of it as an alien intelligence, despite the fact that scientists in the film allude to it as such. Heck, they could be wrong since scientists do make errors.

Did HAL 9000 plan to fool Bowman and Poole with the faulty mechanism in the ship's antennae or did HAL really think there was a malfunction, thus making us believe that computers can make errors? I am willing to go with the latter since computers can make errors. Why? Well, they are man-made, aren't they? Humans make errors all the time so it is conceivable that a computer, like HAL 9000, could make an error. Ironically, as Kubrick seems to indicate, HAL is about as human and compassionate, to some degree, as most of the human characters in the film. Of course, HAL is also a murderer but he can express emotion - consider his final lines in the film where Dave is frantically unplugging his memory units ("Just what do you think you are doing Dave? Dave, I am afraid.")

"2001" was once considered the ultimate acid trip back when it was released in 1968. There are also some who felt the film was too slow-paced and boring (Although I have heard the quote that Kubrick wanted to show that space travel was boring). I must disagree with the slow-pace - sure, it moves slowly but it needs to. This is not the kind of story that requires the fast-paced, action-per-minute theatrics of "Star Wars." Instead, Kubrick moves his story leisurely to show the beauty and mystery of space, the vastness of it, accompanied by the waltzes of composer Richard Strauss. Also noteworthy is the soundtrack, which is silent when Poole and Bowman investigate the antennae on the Discovery - occasionally you'll only hear them breathing which heightens the suspense.

"2001" is not my personal favorite of Kubrick's (that honor would go to "A Clockwork Orange") but it is an extraordinary film of sights and sounds, and certainly the purest, most poetic and electrifying science-fiction film ever made. In its story of the vastness of space and beyond the infinite, we realize that in the end, our planet Earth is only a microcosm of the big picture. 

Heinz 57

THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE (1962)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Manchurian Candidate" is one of the strangest, eeriest Hollywood films ever made, all the more so for starring Frank Sinatra, Janet Leigh and the late Laurence Harvey. I can't say for sure what it is ultimately about but I will say that it is about as paranoid and nightmarish as any film on politics I've ever seen.

Frank Sinatra is Major Bennett Marco, a member of the Korean patrol that has just arrived in the United States. The Korean War is over yet a new war seems to be brewing in the United States, specifically Communism. Marco's superior, Staff Sergeant Raymond Shaw (Laurence Harvey), has just won a Congressional Medal of Honor though he does not seem appreciative of it. Instead of working with his stepfather, Senator Iselin (James Gregory), Raymond opts to work for a newspaper in New York. You see, Raymond hates his mother, Mrs. Iselin (Angela Lansbury), and the Commie-hating senator. But Raymond can't seem to get away from the war or his own nightmares, especially one where he is hypnotized to kill members of his patrol. This just might seem a surrealistic nightmare drawn from repercussions of fighting in a war, but the other members of the patrol are having the same nightmare. Maj. Marco wants to investigate further, realizing that he feels hypnotized for having called his superior the warmest, kindest man ever - a man he clearly detests.

It turns out that Raymond is a trained, brainwashed assassin, and when he plays Solitaire and sees the Queen of Diamonds, he is instantly in a robotic, killing phase. To add even more complexity, Ray's mother, Mrs. Iselin, is behind it all - she wants her son to kill the Democratic presidential candidate and continue the war on communism. The mother is the grand manipulator, even convincing her husband, the McCarthy-like senator, to arrive at a reasonable figure of how many Commies are in Congress. 57 is the most likely number, thanks to a Heinz ketchup bottle.

The most famous sequence in the film is the actual nightmare, shown three different times. We see the Korean patrol seated, all looking dejected and listless. We also see the Chinese Communist hypnotist telling the soldiers what acts of murder to commit. A host of party officials are seen in the audience. But then director John Frankenheimer does a clever thing - he crosscuts between the hypnotist and a gardening lecture full of women, as if both are in the same room speaking the same words to the same patrol. If anything were to suggest the antecedents to the surreal world of David Lynch, this would be it.

There is also another strange sequence between Maj. Marco and the mysterious Rosie (Janet Leigh). They meet in a train headed to New York. He is unable to light a cigarette. She offers to help and they start a conversation about different states like Ohio and Delaware. At one point, he asks her, "Are you Arabic?" She says no. Huh? This is supposedly explained in the Richard Condon book, but I think it pinpoints Marco's own declining sense of reality, maybe increased disorientation. After all, can Raymond be the only one who was truly brainwashed?

The first-rate performances all lend the necessary credibility to the proceedings. Frank Sinatra, in his most powerful role, is a commanding presence, always direct and authoritative as the major. Janet Leigh lends a touch of class and something almost preternatural as Rosie. Laurence Harvey is like some sickly, grow-up Catholic schoolboy, unaware how he is being used and abused. But it is truly Angela Lansbury who rises above as the frigid, domineering, stifling Mrs. Iselin, completely understated and chilling in her demeanor. She is certainly one of the great villainesses of American cinema.

"The Manchurian Candidate" was released in 1962 but was then pulled out of circulation by Frank Sinatra, who was one of the producers, because the film barely made enough profit. It was then re-released in 1988. Some have alluded this film to the Kennedy assassination as proof that maybe Lee Harvey Oswald did act alone. I find it is a polemic of its times, yet it is also as relevant today as it was then. Yes, communism is no longer a threat and assassinations of presidential candidates are certainly not as common as they were forty years ago. What we have today is a world of nightmarish paranoia, seeking the enemy who remains elusive and invisible and fighting a war on terrorism that seems possibly unwinnable. In the 1960's, the soldiers were brainwashed. Today, as possibly evidenced by the 2004 remake, it is the people who may be brainwashed.

The Kiss of Death

CAT PEOPLE (1942)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I imagine the youth of the 2010 era are so jaded and numbed by excessive violence in horror films that they forget the crucial tool that put horror in the map in the first place - imagination. Imagination needs implication, needs shadows and, in some cases, ambiguity to survive. "The Exorcist" is still the top favorite in my supernatural horror diet despite having the occasional gross-out moment - the violence in that picture was essential so we believed that a spirit was really inside a little girl. Among my favorite horror flicks ever pre-1973 are: "The Bride of Frankenstein," "Dracula's Daughter" and the eternally frightening 1922 German Dracula version, "Nosferatu." I love most Universal horror flicks of the 1930's but a true nail-biter in this genre is the vivid, quixotic and touching "Cat People," a 1942 Val Lewton production that is classy, vastly spooky and romantic. It is the kind of picture where mood is everything.

Simone Simon is Irena, a Serbian fashion designer who is drawn to Central Park Zoo. She sketches the panthers in the cages, and nothing else. One gentleman's interest is piqued by this woman and he decides to talk to her. He is Oliver Reed (Kent Smith), a marine engineer who is invited by Irena to her apartment for tea (it is amazing how times have changed since 1942). He is quite intrigued by her and his heart melts at the sight of her, especially when she talks about her homeland of Serbia, devil worship and cats being a symbol of evil. All this emanates from Irena's King John of Serbia statue where the monarch is shown impaling a panther with a sword.

Irena and Oliver get married but their first night together shows them sleeping in different beds. Irena is afraid of intimacy and Oliver tries to get her to see a psychiatrist, Dr. Louis (Tom Conway), to peel away at her fears. Oliver seeks intimacy and advice from his best friend and co-worker, Alice Moore (Jane Randolph) since he doesn't have a clue on how to handle timidness. If all this sounds intriguing enough, consider why Irena is incapable of intimacy - she might turn into one of the "cat people."

Fluidly directed by Jacques Tourneur and brilliantly shot with deep shadows by cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca (the shadows are so stark that you might think you are seeing the color red), "Cat People" is an extraordinary, breathless journey that says so much in just under 75 minutes. Sympathy develops for Simone Simon's Irena, a woman who means no harm and is aware of what she is. Her tragic family stories alone resonate and hang over her like a halo dripped with blood (the actress was far more evil and sinister in 1941's "The Devil and Daniel Webster"). And when Irena turns into a panther (a transformation we never see), we hear the roar, the snarl, without seeing too much of the wild animal. Two scenes stand out and are amazingly effective in this regard: the Central Park sequence (interrupted by a transit bus, known as the "Lewton bus") and the swimming pool scene that left me shivering with fright. I will say no more because they have to be experienced.

Smith's Oliver Reed also cuts a sympathetic figure, a man who wants nothing more than to love the most forlorn woman I can recall of the 1940's cinema (this was the age of Barbara Stanwyck and Bette Davis, two women who could never be called shy). We wonder why Oliver didn't match up his love with Jane Randolph's Alice sooner, but then we wouldn't have a movie. It is clear that Oliver might sense a hellcat of a woman in Irena waiting to pounce (perhaps in the bedroom), or maybe he thinks foreign women are not as guarded as some American women.

"Cat People" is a frightful little masterpiece in every sense of the word and, sadly, a film that probably could never be made today, at least not in the same manner or style. I love some gross-out horror movies too but what "Cat People" accomplishes is finding fear in the everyday. That is part of its charm and part of its everlasting impact. I can't imagine a more thrilling way for a horror fan to spend 73 minutes.

An aerobic, sashaying Gill Man

THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON (1954)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Ostensibly a run-of-the-mill creature feature, 1954's "The Creature From the Black Lagoon" is among the best in the genre it inspired. It is loaded with enough thrills, chills and spine-tingling moments to warrant that old phrase - a delightful Saturday afternoon matinee showing. "Black Lagoon" fits the bill and it has an awesome, iconic monster to boot, later known as Gill Man.

An expedition of scientists are given a rare discovery from the Amazon thanks to Dr. Maia (Antonio Moreno) - a prehistoric, fossilized, severed amphibious hand. This naturally leads them to the Amazon, which leads to the ominous Black Lagoon. In this lagoon is an amphibious living creature that kills anyone trying to meddle in its watery paradise, though our crew is unaware what lurks in these waters. Dr. David Reed (Richard Carlson) leads the expedition, determined to study the creature. Kay (Julie Adams) is his fiancee, who comes equipped with a one-piece bathing suit (remember this is a 50's B-movie). Mark Williams (Richard Denning) is the greedy boss who sees dollar signs everywhere - he rather kill the Gill Man with a harpoon.

Shot in 3-D and released as such, "Creature from the Black Lagoon" scored well at the box-office and saved Universal-International Pictures from bankruptcy. "Lagoon" has all the elements in place for a 50's B-horror movie, but what it contains that few of its ilk contain is lucid, almost poetic lyricism in its underwater scenes. Watching the Gill Man swim underwater as it sashays from one end of the lagoon to the other is truly hypnotic. And though there are the cliches of the Gill Man's webbed hand or face appearing out of water accompanied by striking musical chords, it still brings a chill to the spine. What is fascinating is that the Gill Man subtly moves its mouth and its gills - you are scared by it and hope everyone gets out alive. Its resistance to killing Kay makes the monster sympathetic, though I can't figure out why this creature spares her life and carries her around a damp cave. Watching, however, Julie Adams swimming gracefully and aerobically above the surface, from the Creature's point-of-view, is chilling and evokes the thrills that Spielberg no doubt adopted for his own "Jaws" twenty years later. Maybe that is why the Creature can't kill her - it might think she is an amphibian too.

The characters are stock and one-dimensional at best (a silly fistfight might make some groan), and Julie Adams shows some intelligence but you know her existence in this movie is to make the guys swoon. The Gill Man, though, is the real star and it never seems anything less than a prehistoric creature (the studio didn't give credit to the two actors who played the Gill Man - Ricou Browning in underwater shots and Ben Chapman on land - for fear that the public might think it is an actor in a suit, according to the late Ben Chapman who didn't receive credit till 1992). "Creature from the Black Lagoon" is not great art but it is pulpy, juicy, frightfully good pop art. At the end of the film, I guarantee your spine will tingle a little.

Those damn fire ants...

 THE NAKED JUNGLE (1954)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

For my level of interest in pure adventure tales, Byron Haskin's "The Naked Jungle" fits the bill to a tee. It is a jungle melodrama with all the trappings of a pulpy B-movie, complete with a firm, tough, pistol-packing Charlton Heston, a beautiful flame-haired dame, lots of stock Indian natives, a luxurious house on a South American plantation, the cliched jungle creature sounds, and lots of nasty fire ants (yes, Indiana Jones fans, this is the genesis of the hungry fire ants attacking humans in the last Indy flick).

Heston, never a great actor but a towering, raging, full of gusto and self-important kind of actor, plays Christopher Leiningen, a plantation owner of cocoa fields who gets a mail-ordered bride from New Orleans. The problem is that he might have expected a brainless bimbo and instead he gets a cultured woman named Joanna (Eleanor Parker), who knows several languages and can play the piano. Christopher is an impotent man who spent too many years in the jungle without a woman. Thus, he is immediately scornful of her due to her independence and ability to stand up to him, yet he slowly begins to like her. Of course, this couple is mismatched and so he is ready to send her home until fire ants, known as the Marabunta, are scurrying their way through his plantation and cocoa fields. Chris, the man of action, is ready to destroy these ants with dynamite and this makes him potent and ready to kiss his leading lady without compromise. Nope, she is not headed back to New Orleans.

Crisply directed by Byron Haskins ("War of the Worlds), "Naked Jungle" spends a lot of time on the developing relationship between Chris and Joanna. Precious little time is devoted to Chris's imperialist attitude and his acceptance of these natives, whom he doesn't abuse which is why they work for him in the first place - all they might do is shrink a head or two. It is a typical adventure movie of the 50's where the white man is the savior among a supposedly inferior race. The feminists are likely to fret over Chris's machismo that is rejuvenated by a woman of taste and elegance. At least she is ready to give up her white umbrella to the natives.

Pulp is never meant to be taken seriously, nor is this movie, originally based on a Carl Stephenson short story. A truly terrifying climax and a supple supporting acting turn from a less hefty William Conrad as the Commissioner are major pluses. A highlight is seeing Chris apply ointment to Joanna's skin so as to protect her from the ants, and another highlight is watching Chris violently douse his own plantation-made perfume on her. As I said, if you know what to expect, prepare to be entertained. As a sheerly high-pitched melodrama that they don't make any more, it works. Those seeking political correctness, stay far away (though Joanna is smarter than most of her 50's counterparts). Either way, watch out for those creepy fire ants that will make your skin crawl and itch.

Sleepy Brooklyn Noir

TEENAGE GANG DEBS (1966)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Halfway through the incredibly short running time of 73 minutes, "Teenage Gangs Debs" has one or two endless montages that feature gang members harassing a young woman by literally riding their bikes in circle formation around her. Then we get two eternal dance numbers where young men and women do the jig to some instrumental pop number. I would think that it means we are left with less than an hour devoted to any sort of story.

Somewhere in Brooklyn, a new girl in town from Manhattan named Terry (Diane Conti) is looking to become part of the "Rebels" gang. She enters an exclusive bar where the members hang out and asks for a soda. Why she wants to be a member, I can't say. Johnny (John Batis) is the leader of the pack. If you become Johnny's girl (a "deb"), then he must have his initials carved into your chest. Terry isn't having it and conspires with Nino, Johnny's second man (Joey Naudic), to betray and kill Johnny. It almost seems as if Terry wants control of the gang but then the movie sputters and tanks with excessive padding to make it past the one hour mark.

"Teenage Gang Debs" commits the unfortunate sin of occasional boredom. An exploitation tale like this should have verve and some energy but it operates on sluggishness, with one too many dance numbers and some street violence that seems to have emerged from an unrelated documentary. Terry's demands and her manipulative methods are the best thing about this film - she is aching to get the gang a higher status by getting into rumbles. The nagging question is why does she care and what does she expect to get out of it? It is also nice to see Eileen Dietz (known in the credits as Eileen Scott) in her first major role as a teen girl who wants out - this is long before she got to be known as Pazuzu's Ghost face.

Some have termed this picture "sleaze noir." It is sleepy noir.

Viva the dim Elvis money pit

VIVA LAS VEGAS (1964)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

An Elvis Presley movie has to be approached as entertainment, nothing more. His best films, "King Creole" and "Jailhouse Rock," offered more than simple-minded entertainment - they had meaty stories and well-drawn characters. "Viva Las Vegas" is one of Elvis's most popular movies but, when all is said and done, its mere novelty is that it is nothing more than a picturesque travelogue with Elvis and Ann-Margret chewing up the screen with their songs and dance moves.

Elvis stars as Lucky Jackson, a cocky race car driver with aspirations to race at the Grand Prix in Las Vegas. The trouble is that there is a powerful engine he needs to buy for his precious car. Lucky tries his luck at a Vegas casino and actually wins the money. Unfortunately, the engine is bought by someone else and, through a series of misadventures, namely falling in a pool while making courtly advances to a fellow employee, Rusty Martin (Ann-Margret), Lucky loses his money and finds himself working as a waiter at a hotel.

In the meantime, there are a series of montages involving Lucky and a rival driver, Count Elmo Mancini (played by Cesare Danova), who spend about twenty minutes searching for that pretty redhead Rusty at every single Vegas casino and showplace on the Strip (which only leaves about another one hour of more repetitive montages). There are also the requisite songs sung by Elvis and Ann-Margret - my favorites are the title tune, "The Lady Loves Me," and "Appreciation.

To criticize "Viva Las Vegas" is to ask for trouble. How can you argue against a movie that hardly has a story or credible characters, and is just concerned with being silly and fluffy nonsense? The movie is mostly an advertisement for Las Vegas, offering scenic beauty and plenty of helicopter shots of the horizon in Cinemascope color. And there is Elvis and Ann-Margret, two dazzling, sexy, charismatic stars who unfortunately have little in the way of chemistry. And the final race car competition results in two deaths (though one of them survives relatively unscathed if you check out the final wedding sequence), and apparently starts at midnight though it seems to last through the next day!

There are some electric moments with the dynamic Ann-Margret, a fabulous singer and dancer and an overall better actor than Elvis. Elvis himself has one high comedic point where he splashes champagne all over Cesare, who is trying to woo Ann-Margret. Beyond that, I expect much more than pretty scenery and a few good songs, but why carp? People seem to love this movie, so be it.

Lupino Lane's hair-raising escapades

FOOL'S LUCK (1926)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Fool's Luck" plays like a Buster Keaton short, without Keaton. That is okay because Lupino Lane (Ida Lupino's uncle), the late comedian and acrobat, performs ably, doing some spectacular stunts that are timed with such precision, you'd swear they were filmed accidentally.

Lane is the Dude, who lives in an expansive apartment. He also has his own nervous valet (George Davis) and a maid, and lives the high life thanks to his uncle (the Dude even has a rising bed that tilts in such a way that he doesn't have to literally get up). The Dude is a lazy, rich bum who is suddenly cut off from his finances and is evicted the same day, thanks to a telegram. The problem is that his fiancee and her father are going to have dinner at his apartment!

A simple plot is delivered with some hair-raisingly funny gags. The funniest and most hair-raising involves a dangling piano that is hanging from the roof of a building that will have you on the edge of your seat. To give you an idea of how nailbiting it is, Lane walks on top of the dangling piano! If this is camera trickery, I couldn't spot it.

As a comic short, "Fool's Luck" is a breeze to watch and a welcome respite from even some of the early comic talkies. Lane is a riot to see in his body language, whether he is sitting on a truck with no one at the wheel or hiding underwater in his luxurious bathtub while smoking and trying to play solitaire. And George Davis has his nervous tic of lightly touching his fingertips that will leave you quite amused.

As directed by Fatty Arbuckle (using the alias William Goodrich), I wouldn't call it as good as anything by Harold Lloyd, Chaplin or Buster Keaton (and we have seen these visual gag stunts before but, hey, they are always impressive), but it is great fun to watch.

Stealing scenes with devilish bitchiness

A STOLEN LIFE (1946)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Bette Davis has always been the reigning queen bitch of the cinema, judging from roles in "All About Eve" (her definitive, bitchiest role), "Mr. Skeffington," and "Jezebel," among others. "A Stolen Life," a soapy, highly melodramatic drama, places Davis in dual roles for the first time in her career, playing both a flirtatious bitch and an innocent, lovey-dovey woman. The results are remarkable to say the least.

Kate Bosworth (Bette Davis) is the artistically inclined woman who misses her boat to New England. She is set to see her sister and her uncle. Kate persuades a lighthouse engineer, Bill (Glenn Ford), to take her home in his boat since his Martha Vineyard's lighthouse is on the way. Kate is instantly smitten with Bill, and decides to see him again at his precious, foggy lighthouse. They fall in love momentarily. That is until Pat (also played by Davis) decides to be smitten with Bill and whisk him away from Kate. A lunch date with Kate turns into a lunch date with Pat thanks to Pat's intervention. Later there is a dance followed by a wedding, leaving Kate fuming with nary the partner in her life. Kate is unable and unwilling to express her feelings to Pat. What is a virginal artist to do? Well, she gets caught up in her work and has a gallery showing where a Jackson Pollock-type named Karnock (Dane Clark) tells her that the work is mediocre and impersonal. He shows her his work and she is suddenly challenged, knowing her repression has taken a toll on her. Kate lets Karnock teach her the personal side of expressing oneself. Meanwhile, Pat and Bill are about to have a divorce with Bill leaving for Chile, which allows Kate wants to spend time with Pat. A tragedy ensues where a doppelganger motif takes shape.

"A Stolen Life" could have been highly sentimental glop but director Curtis Bernhardt and cinematographers Ernest Haller and Sol Polito inject a layer of noirish atmosphere with stark shadows and foggy landscapes that recall the look of the Universal horror films. In fact, the scenes where we see Karnock's sullied, dank apartment could be a scene straight out of "Dracula's Daughter." This works because the story involves doubles and mirror reflections of self-identity and often such stories involve self-doubt. Self-doubt or hazy notions of oneself come through in the scenes of fog, particularly the lighthouse sequences and scenes showing the exterior of Kate's house. The mirror reflections and the fact that Kate and Pat are twin sisters, not to mention there are two different men of repressed and animalistic sexuality, brings an unsettling sense of disturbance to the proceedings. It is hard to pin down but director Bernhardt has practically made a repressed horror movie without the horror, leaving only the elements of duality and doppelganger-isms and the atmosphere to prevail.

Bette Davis is the star of the show, showcasing her talents and fusing them to create three distinctive characters. The innocence of Kate, the bitchiness and flirtatious of Pat, and Kate feigning Pat in order to win Bill. It may be hokey and highly theatrical but it is never less than compelling. "A Stolen Life" is a true movie-buff's delight.

Amoral Natural Born Killer

BORN TO KILL (1947)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

For extreme depravity and soullessness in equal doses, you won't find a more amoral noir picture from out of the past than "Born to Kill," one of the meanest and cruelest in the genre. Not exactly a good film but certainly an energetic and frightening one, thanks to the evil charms of the notorious Lawrence Tierney.

Claire Trevor is Helen Trent, a glamour girl in Reno who is settling a divorce so she can marry a rich San Francisco boyfriend of hers. She rooms at the house of a certain Mrs. Craft (boisterously played by Esther Howard), who appears to be a madame or a former madame. Another roommate is Laury Palmer (Isabel Jewell), who boasts about her dynamite boyfriend she's eager to see at the casino. Helen also gambles and is awestruck by Sam Wilde (Lawrence Tierney), who spots Laury with her new beau. Sam is mad as hell as he tracks them down and kills them both. Helen spots the bodies and leaves with an air of detachment on a train to San Francisco, not knowing Sam was responsible. And wouldn't you know that Mr. Smooth Operator Sam is also on board the same train and trying to make some advances towards Helen. Once Sam is in San Francisco and looks up Helen, he decides to pursue her foster sister, Georgia (Audrey Long), a newspaper heiress. Eventually, Sam marries her but Helen knows what kind of man he is, or maybe she is deeply attracted to him.

On the surface, "Born to Kill" sounds more like a soap opera with some rather operatic twists. One involves Sam with a keen interest in running Georgia's newspaper. Huh? Why would a brute force like Sam have an interest in newspaper publishing? And then there is Helen who is so drawn to Sam that the idea of murder doesn't frighten her, it is an unsettlingly erotic idea to her.

There are hindrances in the screenplay, mainly the introduction of a curious detective that simply drags things a bit into conventionality. Also recapitulating some of the earlier characters like Mrs. Craft simply underwhelms the narrative and focus on Sam Wilde. A nice addition and worth a mention is reliable Elisha Cook, Jr. as Sam's partner who tries to protect Sam (they knew each other from their prison days). Cook has a great line that sums up the movie: "You can't just go 'round killing people whenever the notion strikes you, it ain't feasible."

Robert Wise (who helmed 1949's "The Set-Up," one of the best noir pics ever) directed this grim, relentlessly bleaker than thou noir picture but the screenplay gets too needlessly complicated with peripheral characters possibly implemented to reduce the rampant amorality. Still, for Tierney and Elisha Cook, Jr. alone, "Born to Kill" is occasionally a blazingly intense and powerful film.

Wild, crazy Lloyd at his best

MOVIE CRAZY (1932)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Movie Crazy" may not be the best Harold Lloyd film ever made, but it comes darn close. Despite being a monumental flop at the box-office (as well as two early talkies he made prior to this one), one wonders why because it is so flat out funny and charming. Those weaned on romantic comedies of the 2000 decade will find there was far more wit, imagination and playfulness in this genre almost a century earlier.

Lloyd is Harold Hall, an ambitious actor whose glasses may get in the way of real movie stardom, which he so desires. His family doesn't think much of his desires yet Hall pursues stardom by going west. He lands in Hollywood under false pretenses - let's just say it has to do with the wrong photograph being sent with his name on it. The photograph has a Rudolph Valentinoesque kind of actor, far removed from the goofy Hall. Hall's first audition goes awry to say the least, not to mention his brief stint as an extra where he overacts! Hall meets the blonde, sassy Mary Sears (Constance Cummings), an actress under contract to a studio. Little does Hall realize that a seeming Latina starlet whom he pines for on another movie set is the same Mary Sears. Of course, Mary has too much fun teasing Hall (whom she nicknames "Trouble") to tell him the truth, including telling him that he can't see any other women, such as the seductive Latina.

Don't expect any of the tomfoolery and death-defying stunts of Lloyd's earlier silent films in "Movie Crazy." The movie delights in simple sight gags and occasional slapstick (including the breaking of glass doors that will leave you howling with laughter), but it also delights in the charm of its leading star. It is no accident that Lloyd's "Glasses" character inspired the character of Clark Kent except Lloyd is the bumbling, clumsy Clark Kent with or without the glasses. And yet, despite his awkward stages such as prancing around puddles with only one shoe or wearing a "magic" coat (you have to see it to believe it), we root for Hall to make it big and make his sweet, rickety relationship with Mary Sears come true. We also hope he can steer her away from her amorous, drunk co-star, Vance (Robert Thomson).

"Movie Crazy" is a wild comic ride, a fun-filled, laugh-a-minute film with plenty of laughs for any fan of Lloyd and of movies as well. Added to that is the most memorable performance(s) in the film by the magnetic Constance Cummings. The twinkle in her eye and her flair for comic timing work so exceedingly well that she will make one swoon with awe and delight - a marvelous actress. No wonder Hall gets into so much trouble in the film - he is in love.