Boris Karloff Bodaciousness!

Bow to Boris Karloff’s Greatness!

By Kristin Battestella

Forget today’s slice and dice horror!  Educate you and yours on the man who put the fear into early frightfest filmmaking: Karloff!

Black Sabbath –Our Man of the Hour hosts this 1963 AIP/Italian trilogy production also starring Mark Damon (House of Usher) and Michele Mercier (Angelique, the Marquise of the Angels). ‘A Drop of Water’ leads off the English version here with lovely period charm and freaky questions regarding fright, spiritualism, and the moments immediately before and after death. Seriously, one should never, ever steal from the dearly departed! The great mix of solitary scares, what you don’t see approaching, and the shocker smoke and mirrors effects seal the deal.  Hot damn, it got me! Plot two ‘The Telephone’ shines with the then contemporary sixties goodness and lots of suspense.  There’s a sexy anticipation, a voyeuristic vibe, and predatory fear adding to the juice. Karloff’s introduction sequences are a lot of fun, too- serious and latently psychedelic in style but humorous at the same time. In his final story, a Russian vampire tale called ‘The Wurdalak’, all the mood, culture, and creepy come across wonderfully.  The K’s makeup and approach is so angry and suspicious, even disturbing as familial angles come into play. Completists may go for the alternate Italian version for the full effect of director Mario Bava’s (Black Sunday) vision, but despite studio interference and changes that might upset purists; the scares are loud and clear here. 

Die, Monster, Die! – A totally cool, creepy, labyrinthine mansion and décor goes a long way in this 1965 H.P. Lovecraft adaptation.  All the macabre we expect is here plus creative wheelchair accessibilities and mad scientist laboratory dangers to help in Our Man Karloff’s looking slightly sinister but no less spiffy with that white mustache.  BK is a badass and strong but desperate patriarch both in spite of and thanks to that classic red velvet wheelchair accenting his performance.  Though Nick Adams (Rebel without a Cause) and Suzan Farmer (Dracula: Prince of Darkness) feel a little dime a dozen, Freda Jackson (The Brides of Dracula) is quite twisted I must say- along with some good shocker moments, great screams, and scary sounds, too. And the killer plants- we can’t forget those fun science fiction speculations! Even if some of the effects are weak for the finale, this is an entertaining little 75 minutes indeed.

Frankenstein – James Whale (The Invisible Man) provides great direction in this streamlined 1931 adaption. Yes, it differs from Mary Shelley’s book greatly, but the gist of the sympathy remains thanks to beautiful statements of good and evil, life and death, and God and consequences. Big K is wonderful as the simple and abused, meaning well but no less deadly monster creation of Colin Clive (Jane Eyre, Mad Love) - who’s also juicy and maniacal with these pre-code taboos.  Though some of the supporting scenes may seem stilted, Dwight Frye (Dracula) is always a delight to watch.  There are also nice camera tricks, smart photography cheats, and a great lack of music, too. Naturally, this is really because sound was so new at the time, but the onscreen mad lab sparks and angry mob shouts work perfectly as is. However, I do have to say, the period settings and ladies’ stylings of these early films are always weird.  Are we in the stuffy 19^th century with be-bobbed flapper chicks in stoles?  Fortunately, at only 70 minutes, the beloved fan or virgin viewer can easily find time for this one.  Go ahead and say it, “It’s alive!”

The Ghoul – Sometimes it’s a little tough to see in this 1933 Egyptology gone amok show thanks to such old film values; the photography is just too dark and the sound too poor in some spots. The supporting cast is also too thirties archetypes, and if you don’t like the humor of the chase at hand, all this thieving run around will get confusing. There also isn’t as much Karloff as I would like, but his scary resurrection and vengeful pursuits are a lot of fun for completist fans. The music here is also scary and suspenseful, adding a nice and creepy element to The K’s onscreen mayhem- and the plot doesn’t resort to the traditional mummy tales we expect either. No, this one isn’t perfect, but it’s worth the hour plus look if only for it’s previously lost history.  The CGI riff raff of today need a reminder that there are so many unpreserved shows, disappeared films, and great lost performances that we will never get to see! Sniff.

The Mask of Fu Manchu – Yes, this 1932 Orient adventure co-starring Myrna Loy (The Thin Man) is at best quite stereotypical and at worse downright offensive and demeaning in its Asian portrayals. Unfortunately, that is the very nature of this franchise, and the women here are mishandled as well.  However, once you are passed the ills, there’s plenty of fun and action here as Karloff dons the ‘stache for what is probably the most famous Fu Manchu production.  There’s preposterous torture, some naughty, and a lot of camp.  Not everyone will like this film, but K fans and fans of the serials will enjoy.

The Mummy – Karloff, Karloff, Karloff!  The drawn, crusty, and dry opening makeup and mummification designs looks dynamite- accenting OMK’s tall, imposing, sullen, and stilted presence. His silent up close shots are indeed hypnotic and powerful- even if modern audiences might find this one more fanciful fantasy than truly frightful.  Even though there is some tell, not shown off-screen action, the plot is well paced, with nice dialogue and support from Zita Johann (Tiger Shark) and Edward Van Sloan (Dracula).  Some of the 1932 style or mannerisms, foreign languages, and customs of the time might be strange to us now, but the mysteries and iconography of Ancient Egypt look delightful. An action packed pseudo silent styled flashback also works wonders. The CGI spoiled may of course find things here slow and dated compared to the 1999 The Mummy, but seeing a film done when Egyptology was arguably at its height allows a little more of all that onscreen glamour and gold to shine through.  Actually, I am usually completely against it, but I’d love to see this in color- at least once anyway. Sweetness!

Lonelyhearts (1958)

Lonelyhearts Heavy and Monty-riffic

By Kristin Battestella

I’ve been making a point to upgrade my Montgomery Clift VHS collection to DVD, but alas, some of his movies-like 1958’s Lonelyhearts- are not available on DVD, much less blu-ray. For shame!

Adam White (Clift) is an idealistic young journalist looking for his big break at The Chronicle. Adam’s boss, a cynical and sour husband William Shrike (Robert Ryan) contests his protégé’s hopeful outlook by giving him the ‘Miss Lonelyhearts’ column. Citizens write to Adam with their troubles-everything from the lovelorn to the ill, injured, or worse. Instead of laughing the letters off or answering with popular, witty advice, Adam grows very conflicted about the column and the people needing his help. Shrike’s unhappy wife Florence (Myrna Loy) hates to see the growing change in Adam, as does his waiting girlfriend Justy (Dolores Hart). When Adam decides to contact one of his letter writers, Fay Doyle (Maureen Stapleton), complications arise that could destroy the already distraught and emotionally fragile Adam.

Today, Lonelyhearts would probably be played as a romantic comedy or witty insight into relationships and love. Television director Vincent J. Donehue’s (Peter Pan) approach, however, is a little melancholy to say the least. The examination of adultery, sin, idealism and cynicism is somewhat heavy-handed, but also a little too close to home. We don’t like facing the loss of love, innocence, loyalty, and honor. Modern audiences will either love Lonelyhearts’ well-played drama and realism or just hate the melodrama and dismiss it as depressing drivel. The fifties stylings may also hamper this brooding flick. The action here is largely played like the stage-understandably as Lonelyhearts is based on the Broadway adaptation of Miss Lonelyhearts by Nathanael West. The women are very dated to the time as well. Even though the film examines the troubles of the displeased housewife, these women are meant to be content waiting for their husbands, and Justy is very happy when she’s promoted from ‘file clerk’ to ‘secretary’!

I’m getting the hang-ups out of the way because once you accept Lonelyhearts as the disillusionment that it is, you can see that it’s not a bad movie. The pacing and editing is a little uneven, and the lesser characters aren’t given much room to shine, but Montgomery Clift once again puts his tormented heart and soul into what seems like his perfect part. Though tough living and a deforming car accident hampered what could have been of Montgomery Clift and his filmmaking, he’s still pretty and dang talented enough to carry Lonelyhearts. His Adam is charming, loveable, an everyman trying to make his way in the industry. Unfortunately, we slowly see-just like Adam- that he can’t fight the system without destroying himself. Knowing what we know of the ‘mincemeated’ Monty, Lonelyhearts takes on a new examination of shattered dreams and conflicts. Where does the drunken and depressed Adam begin and the injured and pained Monty end? You never get the feeling Clift is merely playing himself-oh no. Where another actor of the day could bubble over and ham it up for such a role, Monty’s methodical talent wins out with one hundred percent believability.

I’m sure there were budgetary concerns, but I dare say Lonelyhearts is a black and white picture due to the inability to film graceful up close shots due to Clift’s facial damage. Some of his finest films-exceptional films in their own right, really, like From Here to Eternity and A Place in the Sun and Red River- are all black and white. Yes, we have to consider the accident, but even so, Monty doesn’t seem to belong in color pictures-he only made three anyway. Though tragic, he seems the last of the fifties old school gents before James Dean and Marlon Brando took his method style towards youth and the rebellious sixties. Montgomery Clift has been alluded to in songs and pop culture, but he’s still a little unloved by the movie laymen in comparison to later method actors. Audiences and viewers I implore you, rectify this error immediately!

Well, now that I’ve taken care of the Clift showcase, let’s talk about the rest of Lonelyhearts’ ensemble. Some of the newspaper office and boozing, bar hopping clientele are fairly stereotypical of 1950s dames and wise talkers, but it is kind of neat to see this time capsule of clickety clicking typewriters and cigarettes and stoles again. Robert Ryan (The Dirty Dozen, The Wild Bunch) is a little too fast talking for modern young audiences who may not understand all the old school colloquialisms, but there’s a lot of truth in his cynicism. Cruel boss Shrike belittles everything from his wife to religion-but he sure can name all Ten Commandments, can’t he? Is he tough on Adam out of his own sorry outlook on life, or is he looking out for the unlearned youth in his own harsh but endearing way? Ryan’s antagonism fuels the onscreen spirals and train wrecks wonderfully.

Unfortunately, the lovely Myrna Loy (Best Years of Our Lives, Meet Me in St. Louis, The Thin Man) doesn’t have as much to do at the trapped Mrs. Shrike. Whatever complexity she could add is cut off by too little screen time. Likewise, Dolores Hart (King Creole) is a little mismatched as Montgomery Clift’s love interest. He seems older due to his injuries, but it’s also tough to discern Justy’s age as well-why is she always wearing drab housecoats and pinafores? She’s little more than a loving secretary who’s set her life aside to wait on her father and brothers and men in general it seems. Maureen Stapleton (Reds, Airport, Bye Bye Birdie) received a Supporting Actress nomination for her ambiguous Fay, but again, there’s only two or three critical scenes for her-not really enough to get to the meat of her desperate wifeness.

It’s a little too fifties and maybe Monty isn’t as pretty as he once was, but Lonelyhearts still packs a powerful punch in its examination of love and adultery. Folks looking for sex and abusive angst won’t find all that visually desensitizing glory here-but this is also one that probably can’t be appreciated or understood by the kiddies. Classic film fans can enjoy the old school filming style and the pushing the taboo envelope of what’s a relatively tame discussion today. Fans of Montgomery Clift certainly know and love his more famous pictures, but Lonelyhearts is not mere filler in a fine career that was cut all too short. Not only do we only have seventeen Clift movies to treasure, but again, this is another VHS to hang onto! Look for this one on television and pop in the blank tape or set up your DVRs. Study, pout, and watch Lonelyhearts whenever possible.

The Best Years of Our Lives

Best Years of Our Lives Still One of The Best

By Kristin Battestella

I consider myself a serious classic movie buff. Friends can’t understand my affinity for black and white pictures-my husband hates them! After this renown for such classics, my father was miffed that I had missed one of the greatest films of all time: The Best Years of Our Lives.

Now certainly I’d heard of William Wyler’s haunting classic about a trio of soldiers adjusting to life in post World War II America. I love Wyler’s previous works- The Big Country, The Depsperate Hours, The Heiress, and of course Ben-Hur. I’m also fan of war movies- The Longest Day, From Here To Eternity, Mr. Roberts-even Wyler’s own The Memphis Belle: A Story of a Flying Fortress. The stars, however, seemed lined against me and this film (and The Sand Pebbles for some reason. I can’t catch that one, either.) Every time The Best Years of Our Lives was slated on television I missed it. Until at last, this summer the stars realigned!

PBS. No power outages, no place to be but before the tele with my dad. A blank tape was in the VCR, too. I was taking no chances for this momentous occasion. Only twice before have I taped a movie without having seen it, and both films I now absolutely adore-Laura and Rebecca.

Speaking of Laura, I was confused at first by its stars Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews-I thought Dana was Laura! No mistaking it here- Dana Andrews, Fredric March and Harold Russell are the triple focus of Best Picture winner The Best Years of Our Lives. The three neighbors meet by chance while returning home from Europe after the war. Former uppity banker Al Stephenson has to adjust to the poor life with his wife Milly (Myrna Loy) and daughter Peggy (Teresa Wright) while decorated Captain Fred Derry (Andrews) has no opportunity on the home front- he returns to his previous job as a soda jerk. His wife (Virginia Mayo) can’t get used to him out of uniform, and the quickie marriage falls apart. By contrast Homer Parrish (Russell) would seem to have it all. He returns to his family home and the perfect girl who loves him-but he wavers between happiness and despair while he and his family come to terms with the loss of not one, but both of his hands.

Unlike pro war movies made during the battles-everyone’s a hero, evil is defeated, the good guys always get the girl- The Best Years of Our Lives sheds light on the plight of the soldiers’ return. Indeed it is not all parades and parties and everything one desires on a silver platter. How can a man who’s gone for five years and taught to kill or drops bombs be expected to fit into civilian society? How does society deal with the influx of such thousands? Work, housing, money, relationships, these aspects and more all have a serious statement to make in The Best Years of Our Lives.

Strange that The Best Years of Our Lives hits the nail on the head with the post World War II troubles, but what saddens me the most is that we seemed to have learned nothing since this 1946 release. When a simple soldier comes to Al’s bank for a loan with no collateral, home, or money but a dream of a farm of his own-banking wise, he should be denied. When Al gives him the loan, I cried. I cried because we are still dealing with the mistreatment of veterans in this country.

Google it and you’ll see all the statistics about American veterans in the 21^st Century. One in four veterans is homeless, and one million are uninsured and ineligible for VA assistance. If The Best Years of Our Lives were in color and the women took off their hats, it would be today. This timeless quality and truth is what kept the boomers hounding me about seeing this film. Gone With The Wind, Citizen Kane, Casablanca. You talk to a classics fan, it’s only a matter of time before you’re asked, “Have you ever seen The Best Years of Our Lives?”

The title alone is haunting and deserves analysis. This is supposed to be the best time of these people’s lives? Are you for real? It’s the worst. Why is that? It shouldn’t be.

Of course, there’d be none of this deserved hype for The Best Years of Our Lives without the spot on cast. Dana Andrews (Crash Dive, The Ox-Bow Incident) looks like a suave bombardier and no doubt he’s got the range to be suave and in love or angry as the over grown soda jerk. WWII movies today don’t have the air as the films of old, largely because modern actors don’t have the look and style of the forties. It looks like playing dress up.

Fredric March (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) plays the high scale banker to a Best Actor winning T. He can’t get used to no servants and nasty bosses, yet March sells the drunken slumbers and problem conversations with his wife, son, and daughter. The Thin Man alum Myrna Loy and Teresa Wright (The Pride of the Yankees) are also stellar as the patient ladies who’ve held things together before, during, and now after the war.

But of course, real life veteran and double amputee Harold Russell steals the show as Homer. A good chunk of time on film is spent in silence watching Homer use his hooks to do-or not do- routine tasks. The audience watches in twisted fascination at his skill to eat or light a cigarette, but Homer can’t button his shirt or close his door at night because he can’t turn the handle. Today, a film would never spend time on a real life person like this; much less let this heartbreaking situation speak for itself. Cudos to Best Supporting Actor winner Russell and Best Director Wyler for rising to the occasion. Some dialogue you can tell that this is Russell’s first film, but he holds his own against the stellar cast around him. In fact, his simplicity makes the film in many ways.

Based on a script by Robert Sherwood (who was also nominated for the adaptation of Rebecca) from the novel by MacKinlay Kantor, The Best Years of Our Lives won seven Oscars-including Adapted Screenplay. Words like this just aren’t spoken onscreen anymore. What’s said needs to be said. All the cues are made and lines delivered, but Wyler and Sherwood also know where to let the expressions, lighting, music, and action speak for itself. As heavy as The Best Years of Our Lives is, the audience is never hit over the head or underestimated.

There’s just so much to be said for a film of old, and The Best Years of Our Lives is the perfect time capsule. Not only could the style, look, and feel, of the post war era not be replicated today, but such a serious topic would not receive the direction, script, and time it deserves. Young folks today will probably find Best too slow, melodramatic, and cliché. Some might even laugh at the signs of the time captured on film. Women in hats and gloves, the slide across the front seat of a car (that’s not even possible in today’s models!), even the drinking, smoking, and eating habits portrayed have changed. We don’t even have soda jerks anymore-and Dollar Tree and Five Below have replaced five and ten cent stores.

All these changes and yet The Best Years of Our Lives captures America’s reactions and relationships to soldiers then and now. Not one minute of its near three hour run time is wasted, and once you sit down, you can’t turn away, despite how uncomfortable some scenes can make you feel. These things need to be witnessed.

The Best Years of Our Lives can’t be appreciated by cgi spoiled young folks. Although there’s no blood, little violence, and no language to speak of, the subject matter in The Best Years of Our Lives is not suitable for children or the overly sensitive. Boomers no doubt know the film by heart, and a DVD upgrade is definitely necessary for the tech savvy and collectors. If you’re interested in war films or are a budding classic enthusiast, you can’t watch The Best Years of Our Lives soon enough.