Magic Carpet Ride with a Genie

THE THIEF OF BAGDAD (1940)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I remember seeing "The Thief of Bagdad" when I was a kid and I marveled at the sights of a magic carpet, a giant 70-foot genie, the eyes of Jaffar, the flying mechanical horse, and essentially the colorful world of an Arabian Nights fantasy brought to life. Seeing it so many years later (and mistakenly thinking that the genie was a blue-skinned one), "The Thief of Bagdad" is a marvelous feast for the eyes and the ears yet and one that must be savored, yet some casting and minor editing in the first quarter mark might have enriched the overall experience.

King Ahmad (John Justin) has become a blind man with a dog who is seen peddling in the streets. Prince Jaffar (Conrad Veidt) has blinded Ahmad yet Jaffar needs his help in awakening the princess Jaffar hopes to marry, known simply as the Princess (June Duprez). King Ahmad obliges and tells Jaffar's enslaved women of how he became blind and how the dog was once Abu (Sabu), the prince of thieves belonging to a family of thieves. Their adventures involved everything one loves seeing in a fantasy, including tidal waves; magic carpet rides; the giant flying genie (Rex Ingram) who can only grant three wishes; last-minute rescue attempts including saving someone from a beheading; a goddess with six arms; a Tibetan temple that contains the All-Seeing-Eye in ruby form and a series of booby traps; the shadow cast on the wall of Jaffar acting independently as Jaffar works his evil magic, and much more.

My major quibble is the opening exposition which drags the action a little. I confess that I wanted to see the sense of magic and wonder I recall seeing in my youth, and my anxiety kept wanting the tale to get moving. I do not mind seeing Jaffar and those penetrating eyes, but when he confesses his love for the princess, I got a little bored. It could be that June Duprez is too anemic on screen (Vivien Leigh was originally cast but had to drop out due to a little film called "Gone With the Wind." Imagine how much more striking those scenes would've been with Leigh). The introduction to King Ahmad as played by Justin also strikes me as off-kilter - Justin has little charisma and is about as animated as a cold bowl of soup. Duprez and Justin bring the movie to a slight halt whenever they appear.

"The Thief of Badgad" was originally made in 1924 in a delightful film with Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. with Fairbanks playing the thief and a prince as a composite (and the one version I saw had the aptly used "Scheherazade" music by Rimsky-Korsakov). This version was produced by Hungarian producer Alexander Korda and had almost six directors involved, including Michael Powell, Ludwig Berger, William Cameron Menzies and even Korda himself took the reins. Normally this would spell a production in trouble but the results are far better than expected.

But when we get to finally see Sabu on screen as Abu (he is changed into a dog by Jaffar as we see in the opening), the screen becomes electric and tantalizing. I just marvel at Abu's escape from street vendors as he steals cooked fish and jumps up and down rooftops with the greatest of ease, or the way he tricks the genie to get back in his bottle. Sabu brings a sense of joy and enthusiasm to the role - you just know he is ready to burst into action. So with Sabu and the penetrating, angry eyes of Jaffar and the witty Rex Ingram as the laughing genie whose laugh is so powerful that inside a canyon it can break down rock formations, I was hooked and swept away by the grandly entertaining and sheer awesome spectacle of "The Thief of Bagdad."

What hath God wrought?

SPIDER BABY (1968)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Lon Chaney Jr. might have wondered where his career went when he appeared in occasional disposable junky fare in his latter years. "Dracula vs. Frankenstein" is one disposable stinker that might have stirred up the Biblical line: "What hath God wrought?" Perhaps he thought the same of this Jack Hill-directed horror film (more comical than terrifying overall), "Spider Baby: Or the Maddest Story Ever Told." I do not consider "Spider Baby" a stinker - it is actually a fairly solid little chiller with black humor tones imbued throughout and then some. I don't know what Chaney thought of it but he probably never saw the finished product.

The Merrye Family lives in some decrepit, decaying mansion in the middle of the woods. It is the kind of mansion that one stays away from, not approach and ask if anybody's home. One such victim, a delivery man, falls for the oldest trick in the horror film book - sticking your head into an open window with torn curtains. He is killed instantly, and loses a ear.

The Merrye Family consists of three siblings, two of whom are young women wearing tattered dresses. One is a brunette "spider baby" (Jill Banner) who violently attacks outsiders in a spider-like manner and armed with two handy knives. The other is a blonde nutcase named Elizabeth (Beverly Washburn), who merely stands around and flaunts her sexuality like a feral cat. Then there is Ralph (Sid Haig) who sneers and never says much - he is like a bald raggedy doll craving sexual attention. Bruno (Lon Chaney, Jr.) is the chauffeur and guardian of this bizarre family, which also includes a cannibalistic pair of aunts and uncles living in the cellar. Think of the film "Spider Baby" as an early precursor to 1974's "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" and Sam Raimi's "The Evil Dead," not to mention a possible inspiration behind Rob Zombie's "House of 1000 Corpses." The rest of "Spider Baby" has family members from out-of-town and their lawyer seeking to take possession of the house. A dinner scene where the meal consists of a cat's carcass (unbeknownst to the guests), insects, mushrooms and a weed salad is enough to make you laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Somehow Lon Chaney, Jr. brings gravity to his role as the guardian - he makes us care about him since all he wants to do is protect the family at any cost from the outside world. It is a spark of humanity added to a cheeky horror flick whose main purpose is to titillate; spiders and much hysteria involving a dumb waiter and fresh meat for consumption add to the titillation. "Spider Baby" is absurdly funny with a haunting finish. For an el cheapo production shot in 12 days with the film producer going bankrupt before finally releasing it four years later, it is much better than expected.

Castle Rocks Hard

HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL (1959)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 1999)

After recently watching William Castle's spooky, funny classic "House on Haunted Hill," one is instantly reminded of the innocence that existed in horror films of the past. Director William Castle pushed for publicity and got it by promoting wild gimmicks in theaters. In the case with this film, a plastic skeleton would emerge from above the screen and terrorize the audience - the gimmick was known as "Emergo." Kids would toss popcorn at the skeleton but Castle's brilliance was in attracting an audience and he did. "House on Haunted Hill" does not need such external effects because it does succeed on its own merits.

This quaint horror item stars the benevolent Vincent Price as Frederick Loren, a millionaire who invites a group of selected guests to stay at a haunted house for one night for $10,000 - the trick is to spend an entire night in the house. Unfortunately, once the servants leave at midnight, there is no way to leave the house, no electricity (candles are in abundance) and the phone line is dead.

The guests include Elisha Cook Jr. (the Steve Buscemi of his day) as Watson Pritchard, a believer in ghosts who has a disturbing family history in the dreaded house; Carolyn Craig as Nora Manning, a secretary who needs the money to support her family; Richard Long as a suave, brave pilot who thrives on big thrills; Julie Mitchum as a gossip columnist aiming to pay back some gambling debts, and Dr. David Trent (Alan Marshal) who uses the opportunity to do a study on hysteria. And the coup de resistance is not a walking skeleton but a lovely, duplicitous blonde, Mr. Loren's young wife (Carol Ohmart) - afraid that her husband will poison her as he has the former wives.

The movie begins with lots of wicked, black humor touches such as the hearses that arrive in unison at the house, the delicacy of Price's line readings when offering booze to the curious guests and explaining the strategy of the long evening, the chandelier crashing down on some guests while Price looks on with amusement, the first conversation between Price and Ohmart as they talk about poison, death and jealousy, and so on.

The first half of "House on Haunted Hill" is chock full of moody atmosphere and shock effects, some of it surpassing even 1963's "The Haunting." After a while, director Castle can't resist the obligatory "who's there?" routine and the seemingly ghostly, floating apparitions appearing outside windows and darkly lit rooms. Oh, and there is an awful lot of screaming courtesy of Nora (a whiner if I ever knew one, and why does nobody ever hear her in the entire movie?) There is also a surprise ending that is more anticlimactic and illogical given the numerous plot holes preceding it. For instance, what is the deal with the caretakers? Why is one blind woman who seemed to be a ghost involved in scaring the bejesus out of everyone? Was she part of some master plan? And how does one keep a vat of acid in a basement for so long?

Of course, I am nitpicking a movie that should not be picked out for logic or narrative cohesion, nor is director Castle the kind of man to care as long as people are entertained (imagine what he might have done with "Rosemary's Baby" if Polanski was not hired to direct). If you want an innocent, good old time at the movies with some spooks and occasional scares and the pleasing presence of the reliable Vincent Price, then by all means go and enjoy. If you are expecting the seriousness and chilling air of "The Haunting," look elsewhere.

Kevin McCarthy hits you in the solar plexus

NIGHTMARE (1956)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

One of my favorite genres has and always will be film noir. Noir is steeped in the existential, a world of no real heroes and where one's morality is put to the test. A story of amnesia where the protagonist has no clue why he has a recurring nightmare of killing someone, only to discover he might have, is not a new tale and it wasn't in 1956 with the release of the film "Nightmare," but it doesn't change how effective it can be in the right hands.

Kevin McCarthy is a jazz clarinetist, Stan Grayson, who is suffering from one of those recurring nightmares. He is staying in a New Orleans hotel but the last thing on his mind is attending a jazz album recording - he has blood on his arm and possesses a mysterious key (all this occurs after waking up from the nightmare). Enter Stan's brother-in-law, Rene (Edward G. Robinson), a detective who is suspicious of Stan's nightmare since Stan inadvertently takes him and his own sister to a mansion off the beaten path where a murder may have occurred. Stan insists he had nothing to do with it and Rene is ready to arrest him until...ah, would not dream of it.

Most of "Nightmare" is claustrophobic and keeps you on edge, unaware of where it may be headed. Did Stan actually commit a murder or it is all a major coincidence? But then a revelation occurs that seems to have popped into the filmmakers' heads without leading us into the twist with some inner clues. An odd character appears that comes directly out of left field and makes one pause for a moment - did the nightmare have to lead to a resolution that was tidy and a little too perfect? I love ambiguity in movies and especially noir and McCarthy, who conveys the noir ideal of desperation beautifully, sings sour, nuanced notes of isolation and suicidal tendencies. It is a damn near perfect performance that should have led to a downer of an ending or some other finish - Stan is a man unable to control his impulses and unable to distinguish between nightmare and reality (Edward G. Robinson made a similar "dream noir" with the excellent "The Woman in the Window" a decade earlier). Such an intense performance merits something much darker and foreboding.

"Nightmare" is often shrewdly written and directed by Maxwell Shane, and this film is a remake of his own "Fear in the Night" with DeForest Kelley. That film is unseen by me. A title like "Nightmare" should have ended with something less than light and airy yet McCarthy's sweaty, urgent performance hits you in the solar plexus.

Become one of us, one of us

INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1956)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Don Siegel's 1956 sci-fi classic "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" is not just a film about an alien invasion - it is also about losing one's emotions in favor of conforming to a loveless, emotionless society. Scary and awash in paranoia, "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" is one of the best sci-fi films of the 1950's.

The 80-minute version of this film begins and ends with a studio-imposed prologue and epilogue, which diminishes the impact of the alternate version (the one I am most aware of). Nevertheless, Miles, the small-town doctor of Santa Mira (played with effervescent energy by Kevin McCarthy, an actor who demonstrated a similar glow when I met him at Chiller Theatre many years back) wonders what is happening to the people in town. Concerned family members of the denizens of Santa Maria are wondering why certain people have changed - no emotional response though they resemble the people they know and love. Miles' own friends, Jack and Theodora, have discovered a body that is not fully formed on their pool table. Miles also finds giant leafy pods in his greenhouse, bubbling and forming into human shapes! What on earth is going on?

Director Don Siegel's pacing and frantic energy brings "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" a lot of snap and it becomes progressively scarier as it proceeds. The aliens assume the form of the humans they clone and presumably kill them. Miles doesn't know who to trust, and hides in his office with his girlfriend Becky (Dana Wynter) in gradual fear and with the hope of escaping town to warn others. It is that relentless fear and paranoia that carries the film, the fear of being found and of being cloned. Two scenes stand out among many brilliant ones - the townsquare where swarms of people converge to the center of the square, awaiting further instructions (it has the look and feel of a militarized dictatorship). The other scene follows soon after when Miles and Becky feign emotionlessness and Becky cries out in shock when a dog is nearly run over. A lot of this smacks of the 1950's Communist witchhunt - a time when Communists and Russians were deemed as devoid of emotion towards others and when the fear of a Red existing in your own town, even if it was a false accusation, could cause panic. Is there a Red under your bed, or is it an alien pod? Take your pick.

The original version of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" simply had Miles in the highway, warning all motorists not to go to Santa Mira. It is the ending I prefer, a little bleaker only because how do you warn humans about aliens who look human as well? How does one differentiate between emotional responses and lack of them when the film existed in a time of suppressed emotions? That is what makes the film scary - it is not so much the anti-Communist allegory, which is good for political enthusiasts, that makes the film work on a subtextual level (For the 1950's era, conformity to society's expectations was in full swing - an ideal that I am not sure ever truly went away). It is the fact that 60 years later, those of us so inclined to use our cell phones to text people rather than speaking to them may want to be reminded that we are less comfortable with our emotions than previously thought. 

We all need to survive

THE STEEL HELMET (1951)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The toughest, bravest, riskiest director of the 40's and 50's and beyond was Samuel Fuller, the equivalent of Martin Scorsese of a different era. From "Pickup on South Street" to "I Shot Jesse James," Fuller has always featured angry emotions exploding into violent fireworks. "The Steel Helmet" is one of the best war pictures ever made, an assured tale of the madness of war, using a more anti-American approach that was unusual in its day (by anti-American, I mean that heroism is not an issue in the film). I think only "Paths of Glory" could compare to what Fuller achieved during the 50's.

The famous opening shot establishes tension and surprise immediately. The opening credits are superimposed over a steel helmet with a bullet hole. At first, we assume it is another casualty of the Korean War. As it turns out, it is Sergeant Zack (Gene Evans), who is revealed to be alive as he climbs over a hill, still tied up and with a wounded leg. A supposed enemy arrives, barefoot and carrying a rifle. Zack pretends to be dead but he fails and, to our surprise, the enemy is a young South Korean kid (William Chun) with no intention to harm. The kid cuts Zack's hands free but all Zack can do is incorrectly call him a "gook" and gives him a nickname, Short Round (that's right Indiana Jones fans - this is where the name came from). Zack is not the apologetic kind but he lets the kid tag along as they look for a Buddhist temple that serves as the infantry's observation post.

Eventually, they come across a black medic, Cpl. Thompson (James Edwards, whom you may recognize from Kubrick's "The Killing"), whose own unit had been killed, and a wandering infantry unit headed by Lt. Driscoll (Steve Brodie). Zack hates Driscoll, mostly because Driscoll has no real field experience - Zack has Normandy experience where he saw real blood and guts. Nevertheless, they all head to the Buddhist Temple, ready to fight the Reds who had tortured and killed many American soldiers. Unfortunately, a sniper may be hiding in the temple. And it will take a lot for Zack to protect Short Round, whom he always commands to "eat rice" anytime an enemy combatant is near. Despite Zack's insolence and cynicism, Short Round places a Buddhist prayer on Zack's back shirt - the kid will do anything for the man. The soldiers are not as hesitant to protect the angry Zack but they all come to learn the value of human life. It takes longer for Zack who can't fathom why one soldier carries an organ along given to him by a priest. But his moment of cynicism arrives when a dead American soldier is seen by him as another corpse whom no one will care about. Chilling statement.

Parts of "The Steel Helmet" may sound like a sentimental war picture but it is far from it. This is a gutsy, humane film that places equal importance on every character regardless of race, religion or creed. Let's not forget that one member of this infantry is Japanese, Sgt. "Buddhahead" Tanaka (Richard Loo), who was once in those internment camps in World War II. There is of course the black medic Thompson, who is not above barking orders at Zack, and the fact that Zack does not react violently shows how far ahead Fuller was in his time - he dared to show racial tension without making it explicit. There is one honest scene where a captured Red questions Thompson about his race and the problems of equality in America, namely having to sit in the back of the bus. In war, Thompson may be treated equally amongst other soldiers, but the real war to fight was back home. Scenes like this were barely common in movies of the 50's, and the fact that Fuller was willing to detail the hypocrisies of America in a war film is remarkable.

For pure action and moments of true terror, no one could do it better than Samuel Fuller. The film was a low-budget flick from Lipperton studios, and one can see that studio shooting with foggy landscapes and a set with the statue of Buddha overseeing all was primary in getting the film on-budget (location shooting was expensive). But the film's roughness and crudeness adds a lot to the film, depicting the raw nature of war and the fragility of command when the enemy was so near. Not one of these soldiers ever appears to be truly heroic or stand for anything - even Thompson admits that he better get paid for his services. But it is the subtle emotional relationship between Zack and Short Round that provides the heart for "The Steel Helmet." The message seems to be that no matter who you are or where you came from, a war is still a war and we all need to survive.

A Deliberate "Slice" of Life

UN CHIEN ANDALOU (1929)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
(On Jerry's List of Greatest Films of all Time)

Luis Bunuel's shockingly audacious triumph, "Un Chien Andalou," is one of the first Surrealist films - it is full of disturbing images, odd juxtapositions, and enough dream-like imagery to give Sigmund Freud many sleepless nights. It is the very definition of Surrealism and it put Bunuel on the map as one of our greatest film directors.

Dream-like imagery is putting it mildly - the whole film is a nightmare where connections do not exist and nothing makes literal sense. Bunuel's film (co-created by Salvador Dali) may seem like it is taking place in our dreams or in some other planet, but we can easily deduce that it takes place on planet Earth. There are recognizable visual elements: the moon, the Parisian streets, pianos, donkeys, bicycles, etc. There are also physical actions and acts of human savagery that could possibly happen, such as an attempted rape, the slitting of an eyeball with a razor (the most famous image from the film), a severed hand being poked by passerby, two corpses in a beach and dead donkeys. But then it is the juxtaposition of such recognizable elements that can cause confusion such as a woman's armpit hair replacing a man's mouth, a cloud slicing its way across the moon, ants crawling out of a man's hand (a Dali invention), a piano being dragged with two priests and the aforementioned donkeys - you get the picture. Or maybe you don't.

Luis Bunuel's tantalizing, striking film is not meant to make sense and it never will. The entire running time is 17 minutes and, in that short amount of time, Bunuel and Dali manage to create a world filled with tragedy, oblique humor, apathy and a slight sense of compassion. The woman we see in the opening shot who has her eye slit open (Simone Mareuil), reappears in the next shot, disturbed by someone's death and laying the clothes he had on her bed. The Young Man dressed in a nun's habit (Pierre Batcheff) suddenly falls and perhaps dies (the same Young Man that causes the woman's shock), reappearing later on as a sexually aggressive man who delights in witnessing the death of a woman on the street struck by a car. There is also a shot of breasts reimagined as someone's anus, and the repeated shot of a striped box (perhaps as famous as that mysterious box in Bunuel's masterpiece, "Belle De Jour").

I first saw "Un Chien Andalou" at the Biograph in New York in 1983 - it was a retrospective in honor of Bunuel who died that year. Every other time I've seen the film in a theater, the opening scene of the sliced eyeball caused the same reaction in the audience - a collective "ugh" moment and certainly completely unexpected by first-time viewers. I do not want to sound pretentious but "Un Chien Andalou" may in fact be the first Surreal film made about resurrection, perhaps tinged with hope. When all is said and done, if it is all a nightmare inside people's heads and about our unconscious mind, we will wake up and experience reality when it is over. Or maybe not. Maybe the film has no real purpose other than to wake us up from our doldrums - to feel free to imagine beyond our conscious mind. Or maybe not.  

Absurdist Counter-Cultural 60's satire

GREETINGS (1968)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Brian De Palma's "Greetings" is a very loose, informal, occasionally slow-paced, erratic piece of nonsense. I am not sure I have it all figured it out and maybe I am not supposed to but it is intermittently enjoyable and fascinating, despite being a little uneven.

Three chums are trying to work out their resistance to fighting in the Vietnam War. In scenes that drag on for far too long, Paul, Jon and Lloyd act out the dialogue they will use to avoid the draft. They restlessly rehearse their act, and I could not take much more of it after ten minutes. Eventually, the trio go their separate ways and explore their own disillusionment in an era where young people tried to fit into society somehow. Jon Rubin (Robert De Niro) is curious about sex books and pornography and attempts to make a porn with an eager shoplifter (Rutanya Alda) who has tried to steal books (Jon pays for the books, amazed by her thievery). The talkative Lloyd (Gerrit Graham) works at the bookstore and believes there was a conspiracy in the murder of John F. Kennedy. He is so obsessed that he has his sleepy, naked girlfriend wear a shirt with marked entry and exiting bullet holes and explains, to us, how he is breaking the case wide open. Meanwhile, a demure Paul (Jonathan Warden) joins a computer dating service where he hopes to have sex on a string of first dates, and he just barely accomplishes that goal.

"Greetings" is not half as good as the amazingly powerful and richly humorous sequel, "Hi, Mom!" (also directed by De Palma) nor does it hit its satirical targets as deftly as say Robert Downey's "Putney Swope." Still, there are plenty of humorous gags (I love the composition of the woman in the apartment window as Jon explains to the shoplifter how he wants her to perform a striptease act in a window for a supposed art show), the various computer dates, and an early performance by De Niro who is frequently hilarious especially when he chooses to emulate a Republican and fight the good fight in Vietnam. "Greetings" is essential viewing as a very 1960's counter-cultural satire and it is a shame that De Palma, with the exception of "Hi, Mom!," never explored such political issues with potent humor and absurdity again.