Tearing down the walls of this Technicolor farce

HONG KONG (1952)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Hong Kong" should have been a fun, exciting, spirited adventure tale with a rugged hero searching for a golden Buddha statue. Along the way he encounters a Chinese orphan boy and a flaming red-headed teacher and, of course, the statue which he hopes to sell in the Chinese marketplace. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Uninspired and frequently anemic, "Hong Kong" is a bit of a chore to sit through and Ronald Reagan doesn't make it any easier.

The People's Republic of China has formed and many farmers in the mainland are shot to death. A young Chinese orphan named Wei Lin (Danny Chang - all monotonous smiles in this movie) is taken in inadvertently by an ex-G.I. (Ronald Reagan), Jeff Williams. It is on a canoe that Jeff finds the golden statue encrusted with diamonds and various jewels, something that would not sell for less than 100 dollars on the Jewel TV channel. While escaping with kid and statue in tow and a Red Cross Mission teacher, Victoria Evans (Rhonda Fleming), I began to settle in for an old-fashioned adventure yarn. Instead the movie crawls like a snail who drank too much decaf tea. The movie should feel urgent and captivating and it merely slows down and contains episodes that left me cringing and wondering who the expected audience was - people that love "Secret of the Incas" or those that love the antics of "Bedtime for Bonzo"? The orphan follows Jeff in a Hong Kong that looks so artificial and studio-based that I was surprised the cardboard walls did not topple over. The kid follows and follows Jeff, and Jeff tries to leave the kid and can't since the little tyke keeps clinging to him. The kid has a bowl of noodles and Jeff splits. Jeff suddenly has a change of heart, comes back to the restaurant and finds the kid has eaten 3 bowls of noodles! Then there is the forced romance between Jeff and the teacher that is wanting at best. Fleming's Victoria is apparently the kind of woman who can look past a man's indiscretions and lust for gold because the soldier of fortune came back for a Chinese orphan whom they decide to leave in an orphanage at the end anyway. Give me a break.

There is one inspired element in the film, more inspired in hindsight than to the 1952 audiences. When Jeff thinks of splitting with the money he hopes to collect from the antique statue, he reserves passage in the American President Lines ship. How prophetic. 

Your Mother is Lightning!

THE GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN (1942)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

So when the eerie, foreboding and leisurely-paced "Son of Frankenstein" ended, Baron Wolf von Frankenstein (Basil Rathbone) left the village and the eponymous castle after the Monster (Karloff, last time he played the role) was left for dead in a molten sulfur pit. The deformed blacksmith, Ygor (Bela Lugosi) was also left for dead, or was he? Of course not because both Monster and Ygor are back in the chilling, disturbing and quietly absorbing "The Ghost of Frankenstein." It is not a great sequel, not like "Son of Frankenstein" or the greatest of all Universal Horror sequels, "The Bride of Frankenstein," but it has a lot up its sleeve in a running time that just barely passes the one-hour mark.

The villagers are certain that Ygor survived the shots fired by Inspector Krogh (Lionel Atwill) and want the Frankenstein castle destroyed. The villagers manage to do so, with Ygor and the Monster (instantly revitalized) surviving while walking that distant landscape to another village (they of course walk across a fog-filled cemetery as their getaway - how many acres are those cemeteries anyway?) Apparently, another son of Frankenstein, Ludwig Frankenstein (Sir Cedric Hardwicke, extremely effective), a noted brain surgeon and mental health expert, can help Ygor to strengthen the Monster by "harnessing electricity" to its body. Ludwig has no interest in making the Monster more powerful - he wants to take it apart and destroy it. When another doctor is killed on the premises, Ludwig suggests using the slain doctor's brain to replace the criminal one in the Monster. It is a stunning medical procedure the good doctor has perfected except Ygor wants his brain inside the Monster so he can walk without a broken neck and possibly rule the world and men's minds! Never mind the fact that the Monster has green skin and a bolted neck and the fact that nobody would take such a being seriously, especially if he read from "Mein Kampf." Dr. Frankenstein has no interest in helping the deformed Ygor but it doesn't mean Ygor can't persuade Dr. Bohmer (played by Lionel Atwill, just to confuse the rest of you), a jealous assistant who was once Ludwig's teacher.

"Ghost of Frankenstein" establishes that Dr. Henry Frankenstein, the creator of the Monster, sired not one but two sons. In fact, Sir Cedric Hardwicke plays the father as a ghostly apparition that tries to convince Ludwig not to switch the Monster's brains. The timeline is not clear either but it never has been clear in the entire Frankenstein series. Is it the turn of the century meaning early 1900's or later? Everyone rides in a carriage or on horseback. There are no phones here so one may presume Bell technology has not found its way into the fictional Eastern European village of Vasaria.

Lon Chaney, Jr. is underwhelming at best as the Monster but it is hardly the worst performance one will find - there is some measure of emotional heft from Chaney that Glenn Strange in later sequels never quite mustered but both are no match for Boris Karloff. Bela Lugosi is a scary, witless creature once again and when we hear the climactic moment of the Monster speaking with Lugosi's accent, it chills the bone. Also worth mentioning is Evelyn Ankers, as Ludwig Frankenstein's curious daughter, and Ralph Bellamy as a town prosecutor and both also played a couple a year earlier in "The Wolf Man" (which also featured Chaney). The stunning last shot of two of them observing the Frankenstein mansion in a fiery explosion as they walk away to an uncertain future is more poetic than any other Frankenstein sequel.

At 1 hour and 7 minutes, "Ghost of Frankenstein" packs in the crude thrills, carriage chases, the brief touches of humanity, and haunting moments with the classic spooky black-and-white cinematography of foggy landscapes to add luster to it all. It is not quite on par with the first three "Frankenstein" pictures but who cares? For a Saturday evening of pure Universal Horror bliss, it is solid entertainment. 

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.