Posts Tagged ‘Giant monsters’


20 Million Miles to Earth

February 11th, 2010 | article by | No Comments »
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rating:
company:
Columbia and
Morningside Productions
year: 1957
runtime: 82′
country: United States
director: Nathan Juran
cast: William Hopper, Joan Taylor,
Frank Puglia, John Zaremba,
Thomas Browne Henry, Tito Vudo,
Jan Arvan, Arthur Space
writers: Robert Creighton Williams,
Christopher Knopf and Charlotte Knight
cinematography: Irving Lippman
and Carlo Ventimiglia
music: Mischa Bakaleinikoff
special effects: Ray Harryhausen
disc company: Sony Pictures Home Entertainment
release date: December 4, 2007
retail price: $28.95 / $107.95
disc details: Region Free / dual layer BD50
video: 1080p / 1.85:1 / b/w + colorized
audio: Dolby TrueHD 5.1 surround (English)
and Dolby Digital 2.0 mono (Spanish)
subtitles: English, English SDH, Chinese,
Korean, French, Portuguese, Spanish, Thai
(Spanish, Portuguese for supplements)
special features: feature commentary with
Ray Harryhausen, Remembering 20 Million Miles
to Earth featurette, Tim Burton Sits Down with
Ray Harryhausen featurette, David Schecter on
Music’s Unsung Hero featurette, Interview with Joan
Taylor, image galleries, trailers (Close Encounters
of the Third Kind
), The Colorization Process, BD-Live
order this disc from Amazon.com
single disc | 4-disc Ray Harryhausen Collection

Plot: A spaceship crashes in the sea off Sicily, unleashing an ever-growing specimen of Venusian life.  The creature is captured and taken to Rome, where it goes on a rampage culminating in a military battle at the famed Colosseum.

Ray Harryhausen’s third film project under the Columbia banner is another landmark in his feature film career, being his faithful producer Charles H. Schneer’s first solo effects effort (produced through his newly formed Morningside Productions) and the first for which Harryhausen himself was to be the source inspiration.  It was also the first teaming of the Harryhausen / Schneer duo with art director turned director Nathan Juran, who would direct a number of Schneer’s non-fantasy projects (Hellcats of the Navy, Good Day for a Hanging) as well as two future Harryhausen efforts (The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, First Men in the Moon) and even the Harryhausen / Schneer knock-off Jack the Giant Killer.

20 Million Miles to Earth, Harryhausen’s final feature in black and white, is a minor classic of the genre, only bogged down by the unevenness of the scripting.  The tale begins with a Quatermass-style event – the crash-landing of an exploratory spaceship, most of whose crew has already succumbed to a strange disease contracted during their investigation of Venus.  The only survivor is Colonel Robert Calder (William Hopper), who makes it his mission to track down a very special part of their cargo: a specimen of Venusian life that may hold the key to surviving exposure to the planet’s lethal atmosphere (the cause of the mysterious disease, which never spreads beyond the dead crewmen).

Unfortunately for Calder, the creature has already been found by a young Sicilian boy, who wastes no time in selling it to a traveling zoologist from Rome (the show-stealing Frank Puglia) for a cowboy hat.  By the time Calder catches up to the zoologist and his soon-to-be-doctor granddaughter Marisa (Joan Taylor, Earth vs. The Flying Saucers) the beast, exponentially growing due to the composition of our atmosphere, has already escaped into the countryside.  After an unfortunate encounter between the monster and a farmer, it is captured and taken to Rome, where it continues to grow . . . and grow . . . and grow . . .  until an inevitable laboratory accident allows it to escape once more, this time into the heart of a modern city.



There’s a lot of King Kong and Mighty Joe Young in 20 Million Miles to Earth, with the ostensibly peaceful Venusian Ymir finding itself out of place and increasingly terrorized in an unfamiliar landscape.  Special note is made of the creature’s atypically non-combative disposition, and that it only becomes dangerous when provoked.  This, of course, leads the human cast to provoke it, and endlessly, prodding it with sticks, beating it with shovels, stabbing it with pitchforks, shooting it, and eventually sedating it with electrocution (!).  Any statement about the belligerence of the fearful and greedy mankind, who only want the Ymir so that they can find a way to plunder Venus of its resources, is lost in the shuffle, and by the time the maddened creature awakens in Rome the story has devolved into typical monster-on-the-loose mode.  The rampage of the Ymir in Rome, including a battle with an elephant and a military confrontation around, in, and atop the Colosseum, makes for wonderful action but is emotionally hollow, and a final contemplative line (“Why is it always, always so costly for Man to move from the present to the future?”) feels every bit as tacked on as it is.

The rest of the dramatics are relatively inert, with much of the human story eaten-up in pursuit of the Ymir – a needless romantic subplot between Hopper and Taylor leads nowhere at all.  The dialogue of the Sicilian fishermen who open the story is stunningly bad and downright demeaning at times, the characters themselves never amounting to anything more than hairy-backed simple-minded caricatures.  The professional cast does well with the material provided, with Hopper delivering his second solid monster-film performance of the year (the other from the awful The Deadly Mantis, also directed by Juran).  Taylor does her best with an underwritten role, which comes complete with a archetypal hate-him then love-him romantic arc and a fleeting moment of sympathy for the monster.  The monster itself is, effectively, the lead of the story, let down in the end by the unimaginative writing.

Direction from Nathan Juran is taught and effective, and his compositions (particularly in the mid-film barn confrontation) harken to his past-career as an art director.  This is certainly the best photographed of Harryhausen’s early effects pictures, and it’s good to see Juran working with above-par material (his other genre work at the time involved outright groaners like The Deadly Mantis and laughably ludicrous programmers like Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman and The Brain From Planet Arous).  Mischa Bakaleinikoff delivers some interesting original monster themes, though Columbia’s array of stock music cues are wearing more than a little thin by this point.  Harryhausen and Schneer would team with legendary composer Bernard Herrmann for their next two outings, leaving Columbia’s stock library in the dust for good.



While the storytelling may be problematic, Harryhausen’s effects methods had did nothing but improve with 20 Million Miles to Earth.  The film features some of his finest moments as an animator, the birth of the Ymir and the later shadowy confrontation in the barn.  One memorable moment has the Ymir cornered before the door of a cage, pushing against its door as John Zaremba (Earth vs. The Flying Saucers) tries to close him in – the illusion is seamless.  After wrangling with distinctly inhuman antagonists for two films (a giant octopus and a fleet of flying saucers respectively), the humanoid Ymir offered Harryhausen an opportunity to impart his creation with genuine emotion.  The creature is entirely sympathetic, afraid and lost in an unknown world with man’s military might steadily closing in around him.  The final moments atop the Colosseum, with the Ymir struggling for a last few moments of life, are evocative of King Kong. Even with lackluster drama dragging it down, 20 Million Miles to Earth still stands tall as one of Harryhausen’s shining accomplishments.

20 Million Miles to Earth is the most fondly remembered of Harryhausen’s black and white work at Columbia, and was the first of his films to see Blu-ray release through Sony.  The 50th Anniversary Edition premiered in December of 2007, and was later collected with It Came From Beneath the Sea, Earth vs. The Flying Saucers, and The 7th Voyage of Sinbad into the Blu-ray-exclusive Ray Harryhausen Collection (a collector’s set of the 2-disc SD DVDs is available, but excludes The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, released individually in 2008).

As with It Came From Beneath the Sea and Earth vs. The Flying Saucers, Sony has included a colorized variant of 20 Million Miles to Earth as part of its special edition release.  While it has its effective moments (see the shot of the dying man in the hospital bed), the job is problematic overall.  The Ymir fares pretty poorly throughout, the colorization making the differences in contrast between foreground and background elements of the effects scenes all the more apparent.  Blips in the computerized colorization procedure are frequent (as they are on all of the colorized editions of Harryhausen’s films).  Colors often bleed outwards from where they’re intended to be (see the boy’s lower right cheek in the capture below, or Kenneth Tobey’s forehead and hairline in the night-time romantic shot from It Came From Beneath the Sea), and fade-ins are often outright ugly.  A prime example occurs at the very beginning of the picture, where the colors of the COLUMBIA logo pop in before the letters are there to support them.

Both variants of the film receive a fine 1080p, 1.85:1 transfer.  While a few moments are a tad iffy (a handful of the opening spaceship shots in particular), the transfers are fine overall.  Detail is strong throughout, and while grain is less prominent than in It Came From Beneath the Sea and Earth vs. The Flying Saucers (a result of using different film stock) it’s still present and welcomed.  Damage is light and the source elements for the picture look to be in great condition for their age.  Primary audio is presented in another splendid Dolby TrueHD 5.1 track that sounds very good to these ears, though the original monophonic mix is sadly absent.  A Dolby Digital 2.0 monophonic Spanish dub is included.  The feature is supported with a wide array of subtitles (see the details at the top of this article), with supplements receiving translations in Spanish and Portuguese.

The BD-Live enabled disc features a nice assortment of supplements, the main attractions of which will be the fine commentary track from Harryhausen and effects men Dennis Muren and Phil Tippet and the nice Remembering . . . featurette.  Other featurettes are repeated on the Blu-ray releases of It Came From Beneath the Sea and Earth vs. The Flying Saucers – the interview with Joan Taylor as well as the Tim Burton Sits Down With Ray Harryhausen and David Schecter On Film Music’s Unsung Hero featurettes.  The image galleries are fantastic, allowing one to see the Ymir’s many pre-film forms, though the included trailers – a Blu-ray ad and a spot for the Close Encounters of the Third Kind Ultimate Edition – are a disappointment.  There’s lots of talk about the colorized version of the film in the supplements, and that bothersome The Colorization Process advertisement, repeated on Earth vs. The Flying Saucers, makes its debut here.  All supplements appear to be 480p SD with the exception of the paltry previews.

Bland scripting can only bog a picture down so much with a Ymir about, and 20 Million Miles to Earth is still loads of fun.  This high definition package bests previous editions in the feature presentation department by a long shot, and Harryhausen’s effects still look stunning some 52 years after the fact.  I find myself highly recommending the Ray Harryhausen Collection again, though I’ve linked in to the individual Blu-ray list at the top of this article – I can’t imagine fans being truly disappointed with either.  20 Million Miles to Earth comes recommended.


order this disc from Amazon.com
single disc | 4-disc Ray Harryhausen Collection



It Came From Beneath the Sea

February 9th, 2010 | article by | 2 Comments »
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

rating:
company:
Columbia
year: 1955
runtime: 79′
country: United States
director: Robert Gordon
cast: Kenneth Tobey, Faith Domergue,
Donald Curtis, Ian Keith,
Dean Maddox Jr., Chuck Griffithe,
Harry Lauter, Richard W. Peterson
writers: Hal Smith
and George Worthing Yates
cinematographer: Henry Freulich
music: Mischa Bakaleinikoff
visual effects: Ray Harryhausen
disc company: Sony Pictures Home Entertainment
release date: October 7th, 2008
retail price: $107.95
(Blu-ray only available as part of the
Ray Harryhausen Collection 4-film set)
d
isc details: Region Free / Dual Layer BD50
video: 1080p HD / 1.85:1 / b/w + colorized
audio: Dolby TrueHD 5.1 Surround (English)
subtitles: English, English SDH, Portuguese,
Spanish, French, Korean, Japanese, Hindi, Arabic
(Portuguese, Spanish, French, Japanese for extras)
special features: Audio commentary with
Ray Harryhausen, Remembering It Came From
Beneath the Sea featurette, Tim Burton Sits Down
with Ray Harryhausen featurette, David Schecter
on Film Music’s Unsung Hero featurette, A Present
Day Look at Stop Motion Animation featurette,
theatrical trailers (Earth vs. the Flying Saucers,
20 Million Miles to Earth
, The 7th Voyage of
Sinbad
), video image galleries
order this film from Amazon.com
2-disc SD DVD | 4-disc Blu-ray Collection

Plot: A mammoth octopus roused by nuclear testing rises from the Pacific Ocean and attacks San Francisco.

While its low budget production values may hint otherwise, It Came From Beneath the Sea was a landmark science fiction production, worth noting if only for its pairing of stop motion auteur Ray Harryhausen (The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, Clash of the Titans) and producer Charles H. Schneer.  It was a relationship that would last through the end of both men’s careers and result in some of the most beloved fantasy and adventure films of the past half century.   Without it many of us would never have experienced the many voyages of Sinbad, the wonders of Captain Nemo’s Mysterious Island, or Jason’s adventure with his Argonauts.

As with many beginnings, this one was humble.  Schneer was working under contract to legendary schlockmeister Sam Katzman (producer of such anti-classics as The Giant Claw and The Zombies of Mora Tau) at the time he offered Harryhausen his first post-The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms gig.  It Came From Beneath the Sea plays as a reworking of basic ideas from that box office success, sending a giant radioactive menace on a collision course with a thriving American metropolis.  The details may be different, the monster in this case is an octopus and San Francisco the doomed city, but the end result was much the same.  It Came From Beneath the Sea meant big money for Sam Katzman and Columbia, and its success only solidified Schneer’s confidence in the young Harryhausen’s stop motion process.

Kenneth Tobey (The Thing from Another World, The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms, The Bigamist) stars as Naval Commander Pete Matthews, who is overseeing the maiden voyage of the latest American nuclear submarine when it has a close encounter with a massive unknown something in the Pacific.  Back in dry dock a piece of fleshy material is discovered on the submarine’s hull, and two marine biologists are called in to classify it.  Between romantic moments and dinner outings (Tobey wastes no time in snagging hotty scientist Faithe Domergue for himself) the scientists discover that the flesh belongs to a gigantic octopus, a finding the Navy begrudgingly accepts after more ships are lost in the Pacific.  With the monster making a bee-line for the American West Coast, it’s up to the scientists and the Commander to come up with a new weapon to stop it.


The screenplay, credited to regular Bert I. Gordon writer George Worthing Yates (The Amazing Colossal Man, Earth vs. The Spider) and Hal Smith (The Defiant Ones), ranks a few solid clicks above the garbage that was to take over the genre by the latter half of the ’50s and certainly serves its purpose.  Dialogue is consistently literate, and even the obligatory goofy science lessons (an embarrassed-looking Don Curtis explaining cephalopod propulsion with a rubber balloon, for instance) are above par.  The narrative falls back on tried-and-true melodrama to provide the majority of the distraction, with ample scenes devoted to the rather cold romance between Kenneth Tobey and Faith Domergue.  The main cast is a professional lot, though some can’t keep from looking utterly disinterested or even annoyed with the material they’ve signed on to perform.

Actor-turned-director Robert Gordon plays the material in the semi-documentary neo-realist fashion that was popular for such pictures at the time, and keeps things moving and interesting, if formulaic.  Brief snippets of narration (by voice talent William Woodson) accompany many of the non-romantic scenes, but never becomes so overbearing as in some contemporary efforts (like The Deadly Mantis and The Lost Missile).  Gordon builds good suspense on a several occasions and the opening, with the submarine’s sonar display slowly filling with a writhing black blob of contact, is the stuff classic monster movies are made of.  Mischa Bakaleinikoff’s original monster themes, full of brassy power, are great no matter how often we’ve heard them repeated, and were new at the time It Came From Beneath the Sea was produced.  It’s music that figures prominently into my formative childhood memories.

The main attraction of the show, and the reason it was as big a success as it was, is without a doubt Harryhausen’s effects work, which still holds up to scrutiny after all these years.  The climactic assault of his six-armed octopus armature on the famous sights of San Francisco is enough to rate It Came From Beneath the Sea a near classic of the genre, and its dismemberment of the Golden Gate Bridge is one of American science fiction’s most iconic images.  There are more than a fair share of flubs to be seen for those on the lookout, but the experience as a whole is quite effective and it’s still mind-boggling to imagine Harryhausen alone in his rented studio space making it all work.  The details of his labor really come alive in the new high def presentation, the almost sentient attitude of the individual tentacles and even the occasional puckering of a suction cup.


Sony has made a good first effort in committing their extensive science fiction and fantasy library to high definition with their Ray Harryhausen Collection from October, 2008.  The set includes he and Charles H. Schneer’s first four productions under the Columbia banner from this film through Earth vs. The Flying Saucers, 20 Million Miles to Earth and The 7th Voyage of Sinbad.  While 20 Million Miles to Earth and The 7th Voyage of Sinbad are both available separately, the Blu-ray editions of It Came From Beneath the Sea and Earth vs. The Flying Saucers are at present only available as part of this collection.  2-disc SD DVD editions of both are available for purchase individually, with identical supplemental content, and I’ve linked to the SD release for It Came From Beneath the Sea at the start of this review.

The dual layered Blu-ray of It Came From Beneath the Sea combines all the contents of the two disc set in one easy-to-use package, one of the major benefits of the new format for those like me who are quickly running out of shelf space for multi-disc editions (apartment living will be the death of me).  The disc comes with two 1080p 1.85:1 editions of the film, the original black and white and the new colorized variant handled by Legend Films.  Having watched both and given the colorized version its fair shake, this reviewer will be sticking with the black and white original.  The color transfer has a rather processed look to these eyes (understandable given the technique) and while colorization practices have certainly improved since the days when King Kong was fighting a T-rex in cool pastels on TNT, they’re still a far cry from perfect.  Skin tones in particular are flat and lifeless, and some of the effects, like the sunset colors in the background of the mid-film romantic dinner, are flat out terrible.

Both transfers are sharp and very well defined, and have obviously undergone some restorative work to get rid of damage.  The crisp, clean black and white variant is a startling improvement over what I remember seeing on TV as a child, which made the beautiful Faith Domergue appear positively morose.  The experience was like seeing the film for the first time.  The feature is alive with film grain, in understandably higher amounts during the stock footage and effects scenes, and I’m happy to see that no effort was made to smooth it out.  Audio is a powerful Dolby TrueHD 5.1 mix, which sounds great to these ears (Bakaleinikoff’s themes burst through the opening credits) even if separation is limited.  No original monophonic track is offered.  Subtitle options are extensive (see the full list at the top of this article) for this all-region disc, and even include Portuguese, Spanish, French and Japanese translations for the supplements.

Supplements are surprisingly stacked compared to the SD edition from 2003.  The feature commentary, featuring Ray Harryhausen and effects artists Randall William Cook and John Bruno, is lively and informative, and Harryhausen’s memories are still pretty clear after all these long years.  Next up are a host of featurettes (totalling 83 minutes), including one devoted to Mischa Bakaleinikoff’s work for Columbia hosted by David Schecter (see the full list of featurettes at the top of this page).  Also included is a digital preview of the comic book continuation of the story, It Came From Beneath The Sea Again.  All supplements appear to be 480p SD with the exception of the trio of trailers for the rest of the films in the set, which are all Mpeg-2 encoded HD.  Oddly, the trailer for It Came From Beneath the Sea itself is omitted.

It Came From Beneath the Sea comprises 1/4 of the most expensive home video purchase I’ve made in a while, and I dare say it was well worth it.  The fact that the first two titles of the Ray Harryhausen Collection are only available as part of the collection will infuriate some, especially those who already own the Blu-ray releases of 20 Million Miles to Earth and The 7th Voyage of Sinbad.  That said, my advice is to suck it up, sell your dupes, and pick up the whole set – in my mind, even a sci-fi programmer like this is worth the HD upgrade.  The 2-disc SD package is available otherwise.  The film itself is a minor classic made at the cusp of that mid-50s genre nose-dive, and comes recommended.


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2-disc SD DVD | 4-disc Blu-ray Collection



King Kong Escapes

January 30th, 2010 | article by | No Comments »
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part of the Goin’ Bananas B-movie roundtable:

a.k.a. Kingu Kongu no Gyakushu
rating:
company:
Rankin/Bass Productions
and Toho Co. ltd.
year: 1967
runtime: 96′ / 104′
country: Japan / United States
director: Ishiro Honda
cast: Rhodes Reason, Mie Hama,
Linda Miller, Akira Takarada,
Eisei Amamoto, Shoichi Hirose,
Toru Ibuki, Nadao Kirino
writer: Takeshi Kimura
cinematographer: Hajime Koizumi
music: Akira Ifukube
special effects direction: Eiji Tsuburaya

dvd company: Universal Studios Home Entertainment
release date: November 29, 2005
retail price: $14.98
details: Region 1 / NTSC / Single Layer
feature: progressive / 2.31:1 anamorphic
audio: Dolby Digital English (2.0 Mono)
subtitles: English SDH, Spanish, French
order this film from Amazon.com
single disc
| double feature with King Kong Escapes


Plot: The evil Dr. Who conspires to mine the mysterious radioactive Element X using his mechanical King Kong.  It’s up to commander Nelson and the real King Kong to stop them.

The second and last of Toho Co. ltd.’s King Kong cycle is a real doozy of a motion picture.  Co-produced with Rankin / Bass Productions (of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and The Last Dinosaur fame) and based on that company’s earlier collaboration with Toei Animation, The King Kong Show, it’s easily one of the sillier things to originate on Toho’s lot.  But that’s okay, as King Kong Escapes is immense fun regardless.

Baring no relation to the earlier King Kong vs. Godzilla, with the exception of the fact that the character of Kong is in it, King Kong Escapes concerns UN submarine commander Carl Nelson (Rhodes Reason, younger brother of Rex This Island Earth Reason) and his scientific interest in the Kong legend.  When his submarine runs into mechanical trouble near the island where Kong is said to live, Nelson and his friends, Lt. Commander Nomura (Akira Takarada) and Lt. Watson (Linda Miller), decide to take the opportunity to investigate it.  There they find living dinosaurs (rather, a living dinosaur and a giant sea snake), a single elderly native, and the giant ape King Kong, who takes a shining to Lt. Watson after saving her from the jaws-n-claws of of a scaly island inhabitant.

Meanwhile at the North Pole, the fiendish Dr. Who (Eisei Amamoto), arch nemesis of Commander Nelson, is using his super-machine Mechani-Kong (the plans for which the fiendish Dr. Who fiendishly stole from Commander Nelson) to mine for the rare radioactive Element X.  But Mechani-Kong is no match for the power of the element, its delicate wiring destroyed by Element X’s deadly emanations.  With Mechani-Kong out of commission until repairs can be made and the country backing the project threatening to pull financing, Dr. Who is left with no alternative but to fly to Kong’s island and kidnap the real thing . . .



Writer Takeshi Kimura (Attack of the Mushroom People, Rodan, Gorath) must have had quite the time trying to craft a half-way serious story around the basic framework of the Rankin / Bass cartoon show (the villain Dr. Who, Mechani-Kong . . .), but the result, even if it is little more than an exercise in high camp (complete with heroes, villains, and a hypnotized giant ape), isn’t half bad.  The past relationship of Commander Nelson and Dr. Who goes largely unexplored, though they certainly behave as stereotypical old enemies that they are, playing chess and chortling about the futility of each other’s plans.  A bit of human interest is a boon to the silly dramatics, and the G-rated romance between Lt. Commander Nomura and Lt. Watson figures well into the climactic Kong / Mechani-Kong battle.

The focus of proceedings is, as it should be, squarely on the monsters, and there is no development in the full running time that doesn’t somehow involve them.  Even the representative of the unnamed country financing Dr. Who, a beautiful Mie Hama (You Only Live Twice) in her final giant monster film appearance, has a change of heart at their behest, deciding that nuclear domination of the world isn’t worth a few thousand human casualties at the hands of Kong and his mechanical alter ego.  Kimura’s story brings the human cast and their monstrous counterparts together early and often, a fact that’s sure to make genre fans happy.

There’s a strong sense of humor running throughout the film, and while Kimura and director Ishiro Honda never allow the picture’s self awareness to interfere with the storytelling comedy is still an important part of the proceedings.  Dr. Who’s hard-hatted henchmen are played with a distinctly comic edge, and when introduced to Commander Nelson and his crew his Mechani-Kong (a machine seemingly ready-made to break down at the worst of possible moments) offers up a friendly wave.  Dr. Who himself, full of over-the-top schemes and brimming with ego in spite of his utter lack of success, is the kind of villain you almost hate to see get his just deserves.

Eiji Tsuburaya’s special effects production is on the fantastic and colorful side, appropriate for a film inspired by a cartoon series.  The miniatures still look great after all these years, and even the smallest (a toolbox that drops onto Kong’s face, spilling its contents) are rich with detail.  The best part of the show remains the climactic Tokyo showdown, which sees the dueling Kongs exchanging blows atop a massive reconstruction of Tokyo Tower.  Limits on time and budget rear their ugly heads in a few snippets of stock footage and in the constrained scope of the miniature downtown Tokyo, though the lively action keeps them from being as distracting as they were in films like Monster Zero.



King Kong Escapes fared well when imported for American distribution in 1968, receiving an English dub well above the norm for the genre and a slight edit that tightens the pace while adding a few shots and angles nowhere to be found in the Japanese release variant (a la War of the Gargantuas).  This 96 minute cut, around 8 minutes shorter than the Japanese, is my favored cut of the film, and the slight editing only really becomes an issue in the few moments where it clips Akira Ifukube’s score (notably during the Tokyo Tower sequence).

Universal Studios, the American distributor of the film, had been sitting on renewed rights to King Kong Escapes since 1996, only stepping up to release it on home video in 2005.  Like the simultaneously released King Kong vs. Godzilla disc, those hoping for any kind of deluxe release will be disappointed as Universal Studios Home Entertainment’s DVD is about as bare as bare-bones releases get.  That said, the film itself looks better than ever before – a big win for kaiju fans here in the States.

Universal presents King Kong Escapes in its original scope (actual aspect ratio 2.34:1) for the first time stateside since its original theatrical release.  The detailed progressive transfer is smooth in motion and remarkably void of damage, save some light speckling.  The bright color scheme really pops and contrast looks spot on.  This is a gorgeous transfer with some visible grain and great detail, and one of the best of an older Toho SPFX film that’s been seen in the States.  Audio is presented in a fine Dolby Digital 2.0 monophonic English track that sounds quite good, retaining nice punchiness in the low end and doing justice to Ifukube’s excellent score.  Optional English SDH, Spanish, and French subtitles are available, and there are no supplements.

For a disc with such horrendous packaging design (from the menus to the disc art to the sleeve, the graphics are consistently awful throughout), it sure does a fine job of presenting the film in question.  I was very late catching up to this (four years, and I call myself a fan!), and have no problem recommending the release or its double-feature pairing with King Kong vs. Godzilla to those who have yet to pick it up (a lot of retailers appear to be dumping the two pack from their stock, and I got my copy at well below the Amazon price – shop around!).  As for the film, it’s one of the more enjoyable of Toho’s late ’60s product and a fixture of my memories of growing up on aging UHF stations. Highly recommended.



Tarantula!

January 25th, 2010 | article by | 1 Comment »
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rating:
company:
Universal International
year: 1955
runtime: 80′
country: United States
director: Jack Arnold
cast: John Agar, Mara Corday,
Leo G. Carroll, Nestor Paiva,
Ross Elliot, Edwin Rand,
Raymond Bailey, Hank Patterson
writers: Robert M. Fresco,
Martin Berkeley, and Jack Arnold
cinematographer: George Robinson
music: Joseph Gershenson (supervisor)
special effects: David S. Horsley,
Clifford Stine and Wah Chang (puppet creator)
dvd company: Universal Studios Home Entertainment
release date: January 2, 2007 / May 13, 2008
retail price: $19.99 / $59.98
disc details: Region 1 / NTSC / dual layer
video: 4:3 open matte / progressive
audio: English (Dolby Digital 2.0 monophonic)
subtitles: English SDH, French
order this film from Amazon.com
OOP 2007 collection | 2008 Ultimate Collection

Plot: A scientist investigating a new growth serum in the Arizona desert inadvertently lets an ever-growing tarantula loose on the countryside.  It’s up to a country doctor, local law enforcement, and the air force to stop the beast.

Tarantula! is the prototypical ’50s monster picture, and one in a long line in which the creeping unknown descends upon small-town America.  Throughout the decade the Rockwellian fantasy would be invaded by fifty foot women, perverse space brains, blobs, and even an econonomy-sized crystal garden.  Tarantula! also fits well into the cold war atomic paranoia of the time, and while the bomb doesn’t play a role in the titular creature’s creation (the closest we get is an isotope that holds the good scientist’s growth formula together) the idea of science creating an unstoppable and inhumanly huge force of destruction is of obvious inspiration.

Made just a few years before Universal International’s science fiction cycle would descend into low-budget idiocy (I’m looking at you, Monster on the Campus), Tarantula! is a solid production with a name cast and memorable iconography.  The sight of the title creature cresting hills and progressing with all deliberate speed across the desert landscapes, devouring cattle and people and downing power lines along the way, is hard to forget.

Typical for the genre, Tarantula! plays as a mystery – that the audience is in on the solution ten minutes in is of little consequence.  Dr. Matt Hastings (John Agar) is called in when a horribly disfigured man is found dead of unknown causes in the desert.  Hastings determines that the man died of complications from acromagaly (a syndrome caused by an excess of growth hormone), a diagnosis confirmed when Professor Deemer (Leo G. Carroll) arrives in town to identify the body.  The man turns out to have been Deemer’s assistant, his acromagaly having appeared and progressed to life threatening proportions in just a few short days.

Hasting, knowing that acromagaly is a condition that takes years to develop, senses that something is amiss and, with the help of Deemer’s newly arrived assistant Steve (Mara Corday), starts an investigation into the matter.  Steve lets Hastings in on what Deemer is working on in his laboratory outside town – an artificial nutrient he hopes will help alleviate the food shortages of the future.  Injected into test animals, like mice, guinea pigs, and rabbits, the nutrient results in spectacular growth, with the test subjects reaching maturity in a matter of hours.



Meanwhile, strange things are happening outside of town.  A rancher finds the bones of part of his cattle herd lying in a field, a truck is mysteriously thrown tens of yards off the road, and a pair of prospectors go missing.  The only evidence connecting the incidents are the large puddles of liquid left behind at each – liquid that, when tested, reveals itself to be a kind of venom . . .

There is certainly silliness afoot in Tarantula! – take the acromagaly subplot that links the cast together, for instance.  The cause of the condition seems to be “instability” in the nutrient, which Deemer’s assistant had been injected with for dubious scientific reasons.  Why would men inject themselves with a nutrient that causes uncontrollable growth in test animals and, for that matter, what are they doing injecting something like a tarantula with it?  Methinks that if Deemer and company had settled on something quick-growing and harmless like fruit flies as test subjects then this whole mess could have been avoided.  Then again, a title like Fruit Flies! doesn’t offer quite the number of horrifying possibilities that Tarantula! does.

Of course silliness in a film like Tarantula! is obligatory, and Jack Arnold’s Them!-inspired yarn is more than competent enough in its dramatics to keep things from diving headlong into self-parody (a la Beginning of the End).  John Agar and Mara Corday make a fine leading couple even if the script offers them little of substance.  Corday’s working girl is more typical of the genre here than in the later The Giant Claw (as she tells Deemer before heading into town, “Science is science, but a girl must get her hair done”), though she’s still far from the usual scream queen, only reduced to hysterics when giant spiderlegs are tapping at her window.  The supporting cast are familiar faces – Ross Elliot (Monster on Campus, The Indestructible Man) as Joe the reporter, Nestor Paiva (The Mole People) as the town sheriff, and bit actor and Bert I. Gordon regular Hank Patterson (Earth vs. the Spider, Beginning of the End, Attack of the Puppet People, etc.) as Josh, the nosy desk clerk.

Leo G. Carroll as the not-mad scientist Professor Deemer is the most recognizable actor on board, lending much-needed believability to the part of the noble scientist gone wrong.  The Hitchcock regular (Suspicion, Spellbound, Strangers on a Train, North by Northwest) was immortalized forever for his involvement in Tarantula!, his part one of many of classic sci-fi-dom evoked in the “Science Fiction/Double Feature” number from The Rocky Horror Show.  Carroll takes the role in stride, even when donning his own ridiculous acromagaly prosthetics and tangling with a life-sized tarantula limb.



The real star of the show is, of course, the tarantula, actually several directed around white plaster molds of filmed landscapes with compressed air.  Veteran Universal effects man David S. Horsley (Bride of Frankenstein, Werewolf of London, This Island Earth) and the accomplished Clifford Stine (King Kong, Gunga Din, This Island Earth) get away with a fare share of flubs, like the spider’s legs suddenly disappearing behind invisible matte lines and the occasional transparency of the menace, by virtue of how often their techniques simply work.  The visages of the monster creeping down hillsides, growing ever larger as it stalks its prey, are impressive in their dimensionality and even creepy.  Wah Chang’s scale puppet, plastered all over the advertising for the film, is wisely avoided, but is seen briefly leering (as salaciously as a spider reasonably can) at future Playmate Corday through a gigantic bedroom window (a scene copied outright for 1957′s The Deadly Mantis).

Universal Studios Home Entertainment took its sweet time bringing Tarantula! to DVD domestically, finally releasing it in the boxed set Classic Sci-Fi Ultimate Collection Volume 1 in 2007, alongside The Mole People, The Incredible Shrinking Man, The Monolith Monsters, and Monster on the Campus.  That Best Buy exclusive release went out-of-print in short order and was fetching ridiculous prices through third party sellers (this reviewer made a pretty penny offing his in preparation for the repackaged release) before Universal repackaged it, along with the second installment (including Dr. Cyclops, Cult of the Cobra, The Land Unknown, The Deadly Mantis, and The Leech Woman), as The Classic Sci-Fi Ultimate Collection Volumes 1 & 2 in May of 2008.  The film is not currently available in the States as an individual release.

Tarantula! comes paired with The Mole People on a dual layered DVD (oddly the only disc of the first set not to feature an image of Mara Corday), and the ostensibly single layer transfer greatly improves upon the previously available laserdisc and VHS editions.  The progressive image sports healthy grain, detail, and contrast, but is unfortunately presented open matte.  While the film still plays well full screen, those with widescreen televisions will find that it crops perfectly to a 16:9 set (I’ve cropped the images for this review to 1.78:1 give a representation of the originally intended framing).  Damage is present throughout but not terribly invasive, limited to light dirt and speckling in most instances.  Audio is presented in a nice Dolby Digital 2.0 monophonic track in the original English.  The older recording still retains some nice punch, particularly when the Henry Mancini cues from This Island Earth come into play.  Both English SDH and French subtitles are available.

The only extra to be had on the disc is a trailer in rough shape, but don’t let that deter you as the 10 film The Classic Sci-Fi Ultimate Collection Volumes 1 & 2 is still a great buy for fans (it can be had new for around $4.50 per film on Amazon.com).  As both an old-school genre fanatic and a long-time tarantula keeper, Tarantula! is nothing short of a minor classic for me in spite of its frequent silliness, and as an archetypal example of the B-budget monster opus it’s hard to beat.  Highly recommended.



Gorgo

January 2nd, 2010 | article by | 6 Comments »
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postercompany: King Brothers Production
and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
year: 1961
runtime: 78′
country: United Kingdom
director: Eugene Lourie
cast: Bill Travers, William Sylvester,
Vincent Winter, Christopher Rhodes,
Joseph O’Conor, Bruce Seton
writers: Eugene Lourie, Robert L. Richards
and Daniel James
cinematographer: Freddie Young
music: Angelo Francesco Lavagnino
dvd company: CMV Laservision
release date: January 8, 2008
retail price: EUR 10.99
disc details: Region 2 / PAL / single layer
video: progressive / 1.66:1 non-anamorphic
audio: Dolby Digital English, German (2.0 Mono)
subtitles: none
order this disc from Amazon.de
or order the VCI Destruction Edition
from Amazon.com


Plot: A mother monster goes on a rampage through London after its offspring is captured and put on display in a circus there.

Eugene Lourie was no stranger to the giant monster film when King Brothers Productions approached him to direct their modestly budgeted suitmation opus Gorgo.  Lourie had jump-started the modern genre (with the help of stop-motion maestro Ray Harryhausen) in 1953′s The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, a prime instpiration for Toho Company’s Gojira the following year, and would return to it as director of The Giant Behemoth (also about a monster attacking London, coincidentally) in 1958.  What had seemed fresh and new in 1953 was already feeling stale and mundane by the the end of the decade, and while King Brothers undoubtedly expected Gorgo to be another production from the same mold Lourie would deliver anything but.

The production would prove different in a number of major areas from Lourie’s earlier efforts.  Firstly, the special effects were to be handled in the same spirit as the pioneering miniature work done by Eiji Tsuburaya for Toho Company instead of through more traditional stop motion animation.  Secondly, the production was to be processed in glorious Technicolor.  Thirdly, the monsters of the picture would not be of the typical pitiable, misunderstood, and inevitably doomed variety.  Instead they would be given understandable motivation, and what’s more, they would be in the right.

Gorgo‘s human story is as engaging as it need be in setting up the action to follow but becomes nearly superfluous by the third act.  It follows a pair of salvage workers (Bill Travers and William Sylvester) who become stranded on the Irish coast after an undersea volcano erupts.  While hunting for supplies to repair their ship they discover the secretive community of Nara Isle, the site of many a Viking shipwreck.  The community turns out to be protecting more than just sunken treasure, and the salvagers are soon confronted by an amphibious monster nearly 70 feet tall.  Convinced that the creature is more valuable than any shipwreck, they capture it and ship it back to London where it is quickly put on display in a circus and amusement park.

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Unfortunatley for the salvage workers (and the entire population of London) the monster, dubbed Gorgo by its marketers, is little more than an infant, and its exponentially larger mother is none to happy about its kidnapping.  After a few entanglements with the Royal Navy, the scorned mother wades up the Thames and into the heart of London, destroying everything in her path on the way to freeing child.  The film ends with the mother and child headed out to sea, leaving the selfishness of man and the smoldering ruins of London behind.

Lourie’s daughter proved the inspiration for Gorgo‘s genre-defying sentimentality, having earlier been saddened that her father had allowed the rampaging Rhedosaurus to be destroyed at the conclusion of The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. As such the director focuses squarely on the kidnapped infant and his avenging mother, knowing full and well with whom the sympathies of the children in the audience would lie.  Lourie had initially intended to go further, leaving military action against the mother Gorgo out of the production entirely.  The producers protested and the director complied, though none of the various armaments brought to bare against the creature are shown to have even the slightest effect.

Gorgo is crafted to be a crowd pleaser, devoting almost a full third of its brief running time to the truly epic destruction of London.  With few exceptions this is one of the best monster sequences ever put to film, and when it works (which is much more often than not) it can be every bit as astounding as the marketing would indicate (“Like nothing you’ve ever seen bedore!” screams the ad art).  This reviewer finds it easy to be taken aback as the mother Gorgo snarls with deep red smoke billowing up behind her, and is still fooled every time the monster encroaches upon Piccadilly and poetically destroys a massive advert for its caged child.  A shot of the monster approaching Big Ben is expansive, the night sky filled with fiery smoke.  Interestingly, the creature is almost always filmed travelling from left to right, evoking a strong sense of unstoppability and purpose.

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A largely uncredited effects team accomplishes great things here, including the vast miniatures of London, and cinematographer Freddie Young (Doctor Zhivago, Battle of Britain) captures every inch of it with stunning precision.  A fantastic score from Angelo Francesco Lavagnino (Wild, Wild Planet) provides themes of appropriate giganticness – as Glenn says in his notes on the film, “the movie has a BIG, big feel.”  Marring proceedings are a few hefty chunks of stock footage which prove irksome no matter how well edited they may be.  Lourie is said to have removed the stock footage segments from his private print of the film.

I must have seen Gorgo a thousand times as a child, renting it time and again from local video stores and even tuning in to Pat Robertson’s TBN to catch a late night showing.  It holds a special place in my heart, which makes it all the more shameful that its condition on home video is so dire.  The problem with Gorgo seems to be two fold, an issue of rights and conservation.  On the latter front, whether any of the original Technicolor prints of the film remain in existence is questionable and the elements tapped for its multitude of home video transfers are in dire need of restorative work.  As for rights, MGM distributed the picture in the states but seems to have lost track of the paperwork in following years – VCI has since assumed some responsibility for its home video distribution in the USA.

There are currently no domestic releases of Gorgo in the country where it was produced, and VCI’s iterations have been lacking to say the least.  Their latest Destruction Edition from 2005 improved a bit in the image department, but is limited by its poor interlacing and lack of anamorphic enhancement.  The loathsome 5.1 surround remix of the original monophonic audio is the real deal killer here, and while it works well enough in places it renders the climactic final act almost unlistenable.  An original unrestored monophonic track is available on the disc – in French.  VCI is currently re-issuing some of their catalog titles on Blu-ray (and with fine results), so one can hope that an HD version of Gorgo is swimming somewhere out on the horizon.

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The VCI transfer (top) is more detailed and slightly brighter as well as more tightly cropped.  It is also terribly interlaced, squished vertically, and presents with a strange color anomaly (color is shifted upwards and to the left by a couple of pixels) throughout.  The CMV Laservision transfer (bottom) is slightly darker and softer, but is progressive and has more intense color.
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Stepping up in the interim is German DVD outfit CMV Laservision, and while their release is far from perfect it is a step up from the domestic Destruction Edition in several important areas.  While the VCI and CMV Laservision editions seem to share the same original source material (right down to the running time), the CMV Laservision transfer is progressive.  Detail is softer in the German release and contrast a shade darker, but an annoying color shift (a couple of pixels up and to the left in the VCI edition) is thankfully not in evidence.  Even with less in the way of fine detail the German transfer upscales better when blown up and cropped off for widescreen sets.  Audio is presented in the original and preferred monophonic but is, unfortunately, unrestored.  Both English and German language options are included – there are no subtitles.

Supplements kick off with the same brief but informative Behind the Scenes featurette that graced VCI’s two previous DVDs.  The segment is written by the extremely knowledgeable Tom Weaver and gives an excellent overview of Gorgo‘s production.  An extensive image gallery of various memorabilia for the picture and two theatrical trailers (American and German, the latter of which is in much better shape) round out the film-specific extras.  Additional trailers for other CMV Laservision releases are also included,  Krieg der Infras (a Taiwanese Kamen-Rider film), Roboter der Sterne (a compilation of episodes of the Toei television series Super Robot Red Baron), and Godzillas Todespranke (the German variant of the South Korean monster picture Yongary – Monster from the Deep), as well as an advertisement for a German book on giant monster cinema.

Gorgo has been a lifelong favorite and its state in the home video market is disparaging to say the least (a Japanese release from a few years back may be superior to all the English variants for all I know, but it is long OOP).  While I can hope for better editions in the future, the CMV Laservision remains the best option for the moment.  The film itself comes very highly recommended.

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Cult Camp Classics Vol. 1: Sci-Fi Thrillers

August 24th, 2009 | article by | No Comments »
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Warner Brothers [2007] $29.98
Single layer DVD5 x 3 / NTSC / Region 1
subtitles: English, French, and
English SDH available for all films
ATTACK OF THE 50 FOOT WOMAN
Allied Artists [1958] 66′
director: Nathan Juran
cast: Allison Hayes, William Hudson,
Yvette Vickers, Roy Gordon
QUEEN OF OUTER SPACE
Allied Artists [1958] 80′
director: Edward Bernds
cast: Zsa Zsa Gabor, Eric Fleming,
Laurie Mitchell, Lisa Davis
THE GIANT BEHEMOTH
Allied Artists [1958] 80′
director: Eugene Lourie
cast: Gene Evans, Andre Morell,
John Turner, Leigh Madison
Order this collection from Amazon.com

This is an excellent little collection that I took my sweet time catching up to [finally picking it up from a secondary seller at Amazon.com and getting it, new, for $12 less than retail] and the first dip by Warner Brothers into the vast collection of old Allied Artists properties they now own.  With the DVD market in a downturn and Warner opting to offer its archive titles in expensive [$15 to $20 a piece] on-demand editions it seems that these sorts of collections from the company may be a thing of the past – a real shame, as the Cult Camp Classics label had real promise.

Volume 1 brings together a trio of wildly disparate but undeniably fun Allied Artists science fictioners from the late 50′s, all new to legitimate US DVD and all of which are available separately for $14.98 retail.

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ATTACK OF THE 50 FOOT WOMAN is a fine tongue-in-cheek take on the popular giant-themed Bert I. Gordon efforts of the time [THE CYCLOPS, THE AMAZING COLOSSAL MAN, et al.] that I remember first seeing on a UHF station towards the end of the 80s.  It concerns unfaithful husband Harry [William Hudson], his affair with greedy beauty Honey [Yvette Vickers] and the duo’s disdain for Harry’s needy but rich wife Nancy [Allison Hayes].  Harry and Honey devise a number of lame schemes to off Nancy after an encounter with an alien spacecraft sends her off the deep end, but wind up getting their just deserves when the encounter has the unlikely side effect of turning Nancy into a 50 foot giant . . .

Nathan [THE BRAIN FROM PLANET AROUS, THE 7TH VOYAGE OF SINBAD, 20,000,000 MILES TO EARTH] Juran directs under the pseudonym Nathan Hertz and does what he does best – taking sub-par premises and turning out entertaining drive-in diversions.  ATTACK, like the previous year’s THE BRAIN FROM PLANET AROUS, is intentionally ludicrous from top to bottom and features effects that wouldn’t have passed muster with the king of the ineffective travelling matte, Bert I. Gordon himself.  It’s all in good fun and over in barely an hour, making it prime material for a double [or triple, in this case] feature.

Warner Brothers presents ATTACK OF THE 50 FOOT WOMAN in a fine 16:9 enhanced progressive widescreen transfer, and I doubt this black and white cheapie has ever looked better.  Detail is at the high end and contrast is spot on.  I noticed no encoding issues though the 66 minute feature takes up less than 3 gigs on this single layer disc.  The only extra is a commentary track from the always excellent Tom Weaver, here interviewing actress Yvette Vickers.  The packaging lists a theatrical trailer, but it seems to have been forgotten in the finished encoding and is nowhere to be found in the vob structure.

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Fashioned from a satirical source script that no one seemed to notice was satirical until it was too late and loaded with props and effects from previous ventures [like FORBIDDEN PLANET and WORLD WITHOUT END], QUEEN OF OUTER SPACE is easily the worst of this set but is no less fun for its numerous troubles.  The story concerns a band of Earthmen, three astronauts and a scientist [the dependable Paul Birch, of WAR OF THE WORLDS and DAY THE WORLD ENDED fame], crash land on Venus and overthrow the evil feminist society that has developed their in the absence of men.

Director Edward Bernds [WORLD WITHOUT END, RETURN OF THE FLY] plays Charles Beaumont’s outright parodic script painfully straight for much of the picture with unintentionally hilarious results.  The cast, headed by beauty Zsa Zsa Gabor, deliver the inane dialogue as well as can be expected but look to be having a good time with things [how could you not?].  I missed this one in my early childhood but caught it on TNT as part of their Rudy and Gogo New Year’s Eve Flaming Cheese Ball special at the nexus of 1995/1996.  It was in good company with the likes of THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO and THE HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL – I had a blast.

Warner’s progressive and 16:9 enhanced transfer of QUEEN OF OUTER SPACE presents it in its original Cinemascope for the first time outside of theatrical exhibition, which only makes the paltriness of the production even more apparent [there are at least twice as many cuts in the pan-and-scanned edition, which at least adds some variety to the static dialogue takes].  Detail and contrast are strong, though the colors fluctuate from time to time due to negative damage.  The unrestored image is certainly good enough for me, and I can’t imagine anyone footing the bill to improve upon it.  Like ATTACK OF THE 50 FOOT WOMAN, QUEEN is accompanied by a Tom Weaver commentary, with Laurie Mitchell [the disfigured queen of the title] the interview subject this go around.  The commentary is fun and informative, though there are a few dead patches here and there – I suppose one can’t be blamed for having too little to say about a film like this.  The promised theatrical trailer is present and accounted for here, allowing us another glimpse at just how much the film’s marketing depended on Zsa Zsa.

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THE GIANT BEHEMOTH [or BEHEMOTH THE SEA MONSTER, as it's called in the United Kingdom] was a co-production between Artists Alliance, Ltd. [THE STRANGE WORLD OF PLANET X] and Diamond Pictures Corp originally intended as an X THE UNKNOWN / QUATERMASS styled science fiction thriller about a radioactive sea-blob.  But the money lenders wanted a more bankable run-of-the-mill monster, and the rest is history.  The story involves two scientists [Gene Evans and the great Andre Morell] investigating a fish kill and mysterious deaths that are eventually linked to the resurrection of the fictitious paleosaurus, a radiation-spewing dinosaur perturbed by atomic tests that soon makes a bee-line for London.

The biggest draw of BEHEMOTH is its sparse stop-motion effects work, directed by Willis O’Brien and animated by Pete Peterson [THE BLACK SCORPION], but it’s obvious that there wasn’t enough money around to produce much of it.  What’s on display is quite good, though several shots are rather obviously optically enlarged and repeated throughout the climactic attack on London [we see the creature step on the same car at least three times].  The final script by Eugene Lourie and Daniel James has much in common with Lourie’s earlier THE BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS, including the important plot point that the monster must be killed in one piece and the daffy professor who dies to see the thing.  Still, BEHEMOTH is at the high end of the spectrum as far as generic creature features are concerned thanks to its excellent cast and Lourie’s solid direction.  I’m constantly surprised by just how dark this film is compared to the earlier BEAST and some of the images of the destructive aftermath of the eponymous monster are quite graphic for a mainstream release from 1958.

Warner’s new DVD of THE GIANT BEHEMOTH is of the full-length cut of the film, including the ferry boat sequence omitted from an earlier VHS release here in the states.  The unrestored progressive and 16:9 enhanced transfer is crisp and clean, with excellent contrast and minimal damage.  Every flaw in the under-funded special effects is front and center, but that didn’t deter me in the least – BEHEMOTH looks great on digital, and it’s been a long time coming.  Unfortunately the commentary track commissioned for the disc is anything but helpful – effects men Dennis Muren and Phil Tippett are woefully under-informed and have nothing of use to say beyond a few comments on the effects and the occasional condescending remark.  It’s a real shame that Tom Weaver wasn’t approached again for this title, as this track is a complete bust.  The promised theatrical trailer is present and accounted for and is in reasonably good shape, though it reveals nearly all of the stop motion monster effects.

There have been three other Cult Camp Classics collection released thus far, though it would probably be best if we not expect more [especially with Warner offering up obscure titles like FROM HELL IT CAME through their Warner Archive Collection].  I’ve not seen the others and don’t have the same attachment to the films contained in them, but this set is, with few exceptions, a real winner.  Highly recommended!



Reptilicus

July 20th, 2009 | article by | 2 Comments »
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Saga Studio and
American International Pictures
[1961/1962] 92′ / 82′
country: Denmark / United States
directors: Poul Bang and Sidney Pink

cast: Asbjorn Anderson,
Ann Smyrner, Mimi Heinrich,
Carl Ottosen, Bent Mejding,
Bodil Miller, Dirch Passer,
Marlies Behrens
Order the US release version of
this film from Amazon.com

Deep in Lapland a strange discovery is made – the disembodied tail of some enormous prehistoric reptile is found by a mining expedition, perfectly preserved in the icy muck underground.  The remains are flown to Copenhagen, where a freak accident allows them to thaw.  Scientists and authorities alike are stunned when a full creature begins to form from the tail, which was thought to be dead.  Precautions are taken to ensure that the beast doesn’t escape, but not nearly enough it seems.  The monster, dubbed Reptilicus, goes on a rampage, attacking Hamburg and Stockholm.  But Reptilicus soon returns to Copenhagen, where the Danish military is waiting . . .

REPTILICUS is a terribly serious affair – hence the terribly serious synopsis above.  And I can’t stress enough how terribly seriously it was taken by those responsible for making it.  Co-produced between Denmark’s Saga Studio and Pittsburgher Sidney [BWANA DEVIL, THE TWONKY, THE ANGRY RED PLANET] Pink, with international distribution rights handled by legendary schlock house American International Pictures, REPTILICUS was a big deal for all involved.  The production received unprecedented cooperation from the Danish armed forces, and there’s no end to shots of tanks rolling through fields or anti-aircraft cannons lining deserted city streets.

Experienced Saga Studio director Poul Bang got first crack at Danish-American Ib Melchior’s screenplay, producing a reasonable [compared to what was to follow] if entirely unremarkable blend of science fiction, romantic drama, and comedy that was marketed with much fanfare as ‘the first Danish science fiction fantasy film in Eastman Color’.  But thanks to the particularly awful failing of its inexperienced special effects crew [more on that in a bit] the film was met with a mix of indifference and incredulity by Danish audiences, who must have wondered what all the fuss had been about.

Sidney Pink had the second round, directing an alternate English language version of the Melchior screenplay to be distributed world-wide by A.I.P.  Unfortunately Pink was far less experienced [or talented] than his Danish counterpart, and the cut he presented to American International executive Sam Arkoff was reportedly awful to the point of being unreleasable.  Never one to let a bad film go to waste, Arkoff set about re-working Pink’s abysmal production into something approaching marketable.  The dialog was re-looped and the narrative edited considerably, but the most noticeable difference was in the special effects department.  Arkoff must have spent a good chunk of change here, as the finished American REPTILICUS is loaded with new optical work, notably in the addition of the titular monster’s ability to projectile-vomit globs of bright green glop.  It’s a stupid effect to be sure, but just the sort of thing the film needed to get its school boy demographic talking about it.

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Additional optical effects, like the inclusion of flames or smoke in the foreground, seem to have a dual purpose – to make the original shots more exciting and cover up at least some of their inherent limitations.  What limitations, you ask?  The miniature work utilized for both the Danish and American versions of REPTILICUS is easily some of the least effective ever to grace a major motion picture.  The buildings of the table-top Copenhagen sets rarely appear fully detailed, more often looking like the squat and misshapen cardboard boxes they are.  That the setups are, without exception, photographed in a full-on flood of light only makes matters worse, showcasing every one of a seemingly endless supply of defects.

Bad as the miniature city scapes may be, REPTILICUS’ biggest failing is definitely in its depiction of the menace for which it is named.  Forget the magical space buzzard of THE GIANT CLAW, Reptilicus beats it hands down for the title of Worst Monster Marionette.  While interesting enough in the design department, seemingly inspired by the mythological sea serpents of old, its implementation leaves a lot to be desired.  Reptilicus wriggles and wobbles as though propelled by a single technician holding a single string and, thanks to standard speed photography, has about as much visual weight as one imagines a puppet a scant few feet long would.  A more detailed hand puppet of the monster’s head fares only slightly better, its manner of manipulation all too obvious.

American International did much to refine REPTILICUS in regards to its special effects, but for every step forward the company seems to have added a new technical blunder to the pile.  Chief among these is a truly awful process shot meant to show Reptilicus devouring a poor Dane.  Just one glimpse of a static photo of the victim disappearing down the monster’s hatch is enough to illicit howls from even the most jaded of bad movie veterans.  More obnoxious to me is A.I.P.’s tendency to repeat close-ups of the beast ad nauseum, and more often than not in awful step-printed slow motion.  The optical slime effect also grows tiresome through over-use, losing its initial “neat” factor early on.

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Sidney Pink [the man responsible for JOURNEY TO THE SEVENTH PLANET] liked to claim that American International ruined his picture through their meddling, but the dollar signs certainly add up in A.I.P.’s favor.  Business for REPTILICUS was good, in spite of its stilted dramatics and awful effects, and it continues to be a cult favorite here in the states.  American International’s release made it to VHS courtesy of the defunct Orion, which is how I first encountered it many years ago, and was released on DVD as part of MGM’s Mignight Movies series in 2001.  That disc looks to have since been discontinued.

As for myself, I’ve become rather partial to Poul Bang’s Danish version of the film.  There’s no questioning that the dramatic aspects of Ib Melchior’s screenplay are better handled here.  The emphasis is shifted away from the titular menace in favor of the romances that form around its discovery.  Considerable time is spent fleshing out the relationship between Svend and the young Karen Martens [there's some wonderful subversive dialogue early on, like Karen asking her father for permission to thaw Svend out], though the conflicting love interests of General Grayson are left largely unexplored.  Too bad, as Grayson is the one person in the picture who could have benefited the most from expansion of his character, and the Danish trailer reveals that at least some material in that regard was produced.  The only note on Grayson’s love life to be had is when we see him embrace Lise Martens at the end of the picture, just before it dissolves to an underwater shot of Reptilicus’ twitching disembodied foot.

Nearly all of the romantic footage is either excised in the A.I.P. cut or was never re-filmed by Pink to begin with, including a couple of scenes in which Svend and Karen frollic at the beach [stills of which were circulated by American International].  Replacing such material in the American cut are lengthy spools of travelogue footage, including an extended tour of Tivoli [limited to the Tivoli Nights musical number in the Danish release] and pontification on the bike-riding habits of Danes.  The main cast is the same through both versions with the exception of potential General Grayson love interest Connie Miller, who is played by Bodil Miller in the Danish cut and the considerably [ten years] younger Marlies Behrens in the A.I.P. release.

Still, the Danish REPTILICUS plods along at a tedius pace, and you’ll find that half of the film has passed before the monster finally makes a living, breathing appearance.  Once the beast does enter things, there’s much less of him to be seen here than in the A.I.P. cut [not necessarily a bad thing], though a good amount of what is here is alternate footage not found in that cut.  Most notable amongst this special effects footage are the infamous flying sequences, in which Reptilicus awkwardly attacks Hamburg and Stockholm in the night before sailing into Copenhagen.  Arkoff was probably wise to cut them from his release [I can only imagine how they must have dragged on in Pink's original cut as compared to here], even if some of his own additions proved just as ridiculous.

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Then there is the odd case of Dirch Passer, the Danish comedy legend who plays a night watchman named Mikkelson [renamed Peterson in the A.I.P. release].  Passer is much better represented by the Bang film, obviously being more comfortable working in Danish than English,  with the egregious exception of his show-stopping song-and-dance number.  Passer meets up with a gaggle of school children in a park and tells them, through the magic of song, about the terrifying monster ‘Tillicus [the joke here is that the kids aren't scared in the least, and call Passer a little baby for being afraid].  I don’t find this to be nearly so bad as many other reviewers seem to and really quite enjoy it, though its placement here is questionable all the same.  The rest of the Sven Gyldmark musical score for the film is pretty good, the somber opening theme in particular.  Only the unfortunate inclusion of a slide whistle to the orchestra detracts from things, making the “intense” monster scenes even more ludicrous.  Gyldmark’s score was augmented by Les Baxter [PANIC IN YEAR ZERO] for the A.I.P. release.

The Danish version of REPTILICUS was once quite hard to come by, but Sandrew Metronome Video and Saga Studio did much to rectify that by releasing it to region 2 PAL DVD in 2002.  The transfer on display is a fine full screen and progressive one.   Colors seem a bit faded at times and there are instances of minor damage, but the source elements look to have been in otherwise good shape.  Contrast and detail fair very well and the single layer encoding is solid [the compressed screen caps really don't do it justice], though I did detect some edge enhancement.  Audio is presented in a strong Dolby Digital monophonic track in the original Danish.  Dialogue and sound effects are clear and the Gyldmark score has definite punch. The track is augmented with Danish SDH subtitles, but there are, unfortunately, no English subtitles to match.  Extras are limited to an original Danish trailer [which wisely opts not to show the monster], some text biographies, and a text history of Saga Studio.  Both the menu and the packaging are adorned with a huge cartooney logo announcing REPTILICUS as a Dirch Passer Film – that he would be of more appeal than the rest of the film to potential Danish customers isn’t really surprising.

The Sandrew Metronome Video / Saga Studio disc is currently readily available from a variety of online Danish video retailers, and I purchased my copy through dvdoo.dk.  While the checkout was a bit difficult to navigate, being in Danish only, prices were good [I paid only $18 for the dvd, shipped] and service was impeccable.

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I hated REPTILICUS when I first saw it as a child, and wondered for days about just why I’d shelled out my hard-earned change on a VHS of it in the first place.  Since then it’s grown on me, and I’ve even added it to the long list of terrible films I commonly screen for friends.  Bad as both versions may be, there’s something undeniably amiable about this monster opus born out of international co-production hell.  Odds are it won’t thrill you or chill you, but you might just find yourself entertained in spite of it.  I’m giving it an overall recommendation, and heartily encourage fans to take the time to track down the Danish release version.



Magic Lizard

July 13th, 2009 | article by | 1 Comment »
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a.k.a. King-Ka Kayasit
company: Chaiyo Productions
year: 1985
runtime: 110′
country: Thailand
director: Sompote Sands
cast: Lor Tok, Der Daksadao, See Thao
not on home video in the USA

My readers will pardon my choice of words, but it seems as though it’s been forever since I covered a genuine cinematic mind-fuck here – a real shame considering they’re just the thing this site was created to present.  Luckily for me there exists Sompote Sands, whose entire oeuvre appears to have been carefully crafted to be mind-bashingly strange.  MAGIC LIZARD, one of the last films Sands would produce before focusing his talents exclusively on the violation of Tsuburaya trademarks and copyrights, is no exception to that rule.

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Sea God and Ghosts

July 6th, 2009 | article by | No Comments »
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a.k.a LONG WANG SAN TAI ZI
?? [1977] 87′
drector: Sing Yan Gam / Fu-wen Chung
cast: Chia Ling, Hsing Hsi,
cast: Chang Chi-ping, Hsi Wei Chen

Here’s something you don’t see every day – a Taiwanese martial arts and giant monster fantasy from the late 70′s, made in much the same vein as Poon Lui’s earlier and super-obscure YOUNG FLYING HERO and DEVIL FIGHTER.  The Hong Kong Movie Database suggests that the monster footage is recycled from the earlier fantasy effort TSU HONG WU from 1971, a fact I have no reason to dispute, and much of that same footage appears to have been culled for the later [and somewhat less obscure] FAIRY AND THE DEVIL as well.

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Details of the upcoming Icons of Sci-Fi: Toho Collection announced!

June 30th, 2009 | article by | No Comments »
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Quoted from Sci-fi Japan:

“Now for the first time on [Region 1] DVD— and in their original Tohoscope aspect ratios— Sony Pictures presents three Honda classics that display the enormous breadth of the Toho magic during its glory years. THE H-MAN (Bijo to Ekitai Ningen, 1958), BATTLE IN OUTER SPACE (Uchu Daisenso, 1959), and MOTHRA (Mosura, 1961) have been digitally re-mastered for the best possible picture and sound quality, and include the original Japanese versions and the U.S. versions, plus commentaries for two of the films.”

Read the full article here: Sci-fi Japan

The big news has been answered for me in that both the Japanese and U.S. theatrical versions of all three films are to be included – awesome news indeed.  That two commentary tracks by Steve Ryfle and Ed Godzizewski will be included [on MOTHRA and BATTLE IN OUTER SPACE] just sweetens the deal on what is already a must-buy set.

Do yourself a favor, and help out a webmaster in need, by picking up this set from Amazon.com, where it is currently on pre-order for a ridiculously low $17.49 (retail $24.96).  The set streets on August 18th.



Yeti – Giant of the 20th Century

June 27th, 2009 | article by | No Comments »
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a.k.a. Yeti – il Gigante del 20 Secolo
Stefano Film [1977] 118′ / 96′
country: Italy
director: GIANFRANCO PAROLINI [as Frank Kramer]
cast: ANTONELLA INTERLENGHI, MIMMO CRAIG,
cast: JIM SULLIVAN, TONY KENDALL, EDOARDO FAIETA

Oh Dino de Laurentiis, what hath ye wrought? Throughout 1976, the world was bombarded with pre-release advertising for his multi-million dollar remake of KING KONG – so much so that exploitation entrepreneurs couldn’t help but try and take advantage of it. The results were mostly boring and terrible affairs, as exemplified by the U.S / Korean co-production A*P*E [which beat the de Laurentiis production to theaters by nearly three months, and in 3-D no less]. Not to be upstaged, a small consortium of Italian producers / screenwriters concocted this bizarre yarn, which is the only true giant monster film ever to have been produced in the country as far as I am aware.

YETI begins with several shots of ice exploding, a glimpse of a boat in the Arctic, and a fly-over of Toronto, all while a musical derivation on the John Barry theme to KING KONG and [more oddly] Carl Orf’s “O Fortuna” blurps in the background. This can only mean one thing – that an absolutely gigantic yeti has been discovered by a greedy corporate head in the icy north of Canada. That greedy corporate head is Hunnicut [Faieta], and he tasks his ‘paleonthonologist’ [gotta love those English dubs!] buddy Wassermann with waking the beast up for reasons unknown. Wasserman, with the aid of a helicopter, a huge gas chamber, and an armory’s worth of flamethrowers, does just that while Hunnicut’s grandchildren – the mute Herbie [Sullivan] and hottie Jane [Interlenghi] – look on.

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Gorgo – notes from Glenn Erickson

June 27th, 2009 | article by | No Comments »
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These notes were provided by the inimitable Glenn Erickson, of Wtf-Film favorite DVD Savant, for inclusion with a now defunct DVD review of Gorgo.  The original review may be gone, but Glenn’s notes remain.  An updated review can be found here.


You’ve prompted me to unload my brain on the subject of GORGO. Here goes:

I “experienced” GORGO as a 9 year old kid living on an air base in Hawaii. The TV spots were so glorious that I asked my parents to take me downtown to see it (downtown Honolulu, off the base). They dropped me off, thinking I was experienced enough to know ‘what to do”, as I’d been going to the base theater for over a year already, by myself.

Mom deposited me in the crowd after buying my ticket and finding out when the movie would be finished … I entered with a MOB of people. In those days everyone just went into the movie when they felt like it — right in the middle — and exited when they caught up with the story. I came in just when Gorgo Jr. was being paraded through London. The movie was half over. I watched the rest of it in a trance; it was the greatest thing I’d ever seen. I identified with the little kid staring up at the giant mother 1,000%, and cheered when the monsters prevailed and went back to the ocean. Perfect ending!

When the movie was over I got scared, because the Air Base theater showed only one film at a time and then cleared the house. (I’d stayed for a second showing of THE TIME MACHINE by scrunching up in my front-row seat and not being noticed). I was also terrified of breaking rules, so when an usher got mad at some kids for acting up I panicked and left the theater.

That meant that I had to stand on the sidewalk in front of the theater for more than three hours, staring at the posters for GORGO and CALTIKI THE IMMORTAL MONSTER, realizing that I’d cheated myself. It also wasn’t the best part of town. It was packed with all kinds of people that looked strange (presumably, Japanese and Filipino- Americans), so I sort of cringed. Nobody bothered me in the slightest.

When my parents finally found me I cried. Another childhood tragedy!

GORGO played a few months later at the base theater and I saw the whole thing. It became my instant favorite movie. What’s missing today is the impact of the Technicolor prints with the Freddie Young cinematography. The night scenes were incredible and many of the effects that worked (as opposed to the real loser shots) were photo-real — you mention them in your review. The brief shot of Gorgo Sr. and Big Ben with that giant sky was astonishing, with about eight colors of red and purple in those clouds of smoke. On a big screen, when Gorgo’s head came out of the water and the camera zoomed in, you thought the thing was eating you!

I saw it a lot on TV in the later 1960s, mostly in B&W. In 1975 FILMEX showed it at midnight and it was the third and last time I saw a 35mm Technicolor print … devastating. The movie has a BIG, big feel, powerful music and strong emotions.

After cutting short versions on video, I realized several things about the movie. I think that the King Brothers had a serious financial disaster in mid-shoot. They filmed their location stuff in Ireland and built those giant miniature sets for London. (I was a clerk in the miniature shop for 1941 and we studied GORGO in old issues of American Cinematographer.) But something went wrong and they couldn’t finish the live action. There are indications that perhaps two reels of material are missing. What could it be. I’ve imagined scenes with the circus and the Irish scientist, or perhaps some not-so-good subplot about young Sean’s status as an adopted stowaway (as opposed to Gorgo Jr’s status as a kidnapped monster). Sam’s alcoholism comes on pretty quickly, too. Either this stuff wasn’t filmed, or it wasn’t any good.

William Sylvester and Bill Travers were known liberals, and the screenwriters worked under pseudonyms. That makes us wonder if GORGO’s script originally had a more overt pro-ecology, anti-free enterprise slant (those are the general themes) and whether scenes were slashed to get rid of gabby dialogue.

Welcome savior Eric Boyd-Perkins, editor (look up his impressive credits). Perkins really makes the London panic scenes swing with radical (for 1960) editing, Eisenstein cutting patterns that evoke the THINGS TO COME air raid scene. Look closely and you’ll see the footage multiplied by repeating shots and then flopping some shots and repeating them again — watch the posters on the buses. The height of the ‘stampede’ scene turns into a expressionistic blur of hysteria … as a little kid, I felt the Flight Reflex kicking in.

Of course, like INVADERS FROM MARS, the movie suffers by having too much indifferent stock footage, although it’s cut well. Today they could probably work over the scratchy, color – challenged stock shots and make them look good. Perkins cuts them for maximum impact and great sound effects do the rest — somebody really cared. We Air Force kids always cheered whenever jet planes where shown saving the day, so we went nuts when the jets fired up and took off to a really terrific “Tally Ho” music cue (not part of the Lavagnino score, it appears). Some of the rapid fire cutting indicating the air cannon shooting is as effective as similar cuts in APOCALYPSE NOW.

Most of the editorial tricks speed up the pace, making GORGO finish in record time — 74 minutes is great for multiple daily shows but barely as long as a Roger Corman quickie. Up front, Boyd-Perkins extends things. While the salvage ship watches the sea boil, Sam is scuba diving below. His two dives are really one .. watch the positions of actors and you’ll see that his exit from the water up front, originally belongs after the dive. This stretches out the suspense and makes it seem like more is happening before the underwater explosion.

Yes, some of the effects are pretty weak. I’d love to have all the film elements available to re-compose shots and replace ridiculous matte paintings — like the dockside circus shot with the painted, static bandleader — with decent shots. Even more effective (and still possible, if someone wanted to do it) would be to improve the effects when all those shell explosions – double exposed white patterns – flash around Gorgo senior. The explosions flash, but no light falls on the monster. What the effect needs for each blast is a “lighting kick” painted onto Gorgo’s hide.

Turner says it no longer has a Technicolor 35mm print, which perhaps explains why the American Cinematheque has never shown the film. Its status as a PD item or owned by somebody is also not clear. I wish someone would claim it, establish copyright and properly restore it.

A big thanks to Glenn for sharing his experiences and insights – Wtf-Film certainly wishes he’d been able to see Gorgo on the big screen as a child.



Tah Tien

June 27th, 2009 | article by | No Comments »
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company: Chaiyo Productions
year: 1973
runtime: 99′
country: Thailand
director: Sompote Sands
cast: Sombat Methanee, Suphak Likitkul,
Sukhon Kewliam, Somphong Pongmitr
not on home video in the USA

Do you like Thai food? Thai culture? Traditional Thai architecture? Are you a fan of the music of Ennio Morricone and Gustav Holst? Do you love giant monster movies and relish nothing more than the sight of intricately constructed scale models of famous landmarks being lovingly demolished by all manner of stop-motion or suit-mation beasts?

If you answered yes to any of the above, then I can’t recommend enough against watching this film from the embattled Chaiyo Studios and founder Sompote Sands, made most famous in recent years for the much publicized legal war between it and Tsuburaya over the ownership of Ultraman. It seems important to note that Sands and Chaiyo are rather definitely the ‘bad guys’ in that particular situation, which has been written about extensively at scifijapan.com and elsewhere.

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Legend of Dinosaurs and Monster Birds

June 26th, 2009 | article by | No Comments »
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a.k.a. KYORYU – KAICHO NO DENSETSU / THE ‘LEGEND OF DINOSAURS’
Toei Co. Ltd [1977] 92′
country: Japan
director: JUNJI KURATA
cast: TSUNEHIKO WATASE, NOBIKO SAWA,
cast: SHOTARO HAYASHI, TOMOKO KIYOSHIMA

Many many years ago, in a time long since passed when Blockbuster Video had more to offer its humble customers than the multiple copies of the latest Hollywood garbage, I stumbled upon a curious and forbidden film. The offending video had a rather crude drawing of a large Plesiosaurus [with an abnormally proportioned head] toting a woman about by the leg. In the background was an exploding volcano and, high above it, a flying reptile of some kind. The title on the video box read LEGEND OF THE DINOSAURS, and I knew right away that I had to see it.

I was very young at the time, no older than five or six and, as it tended to at the time, parental discretion won out over my naive curiosity. For years I ran the gamut of other available dinosaur classics; THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT [1975], THE PEOPLE THAT TIME FORGOT [1977], THE LAST DINOSAUR [1977], THE CRATER LAKE MONSTER [1977... feeling a trend?], DINOSAURUS! [1960], and THE LAND UNKNOWN [1957] along with the entirety of available GAMERA offerings. But my interests kept turning back to the mysterious film with the blue box. That my parents refused to allow me to see it must have meant that there were goodies within well worth seeing – so my childish mind concluded, at least.

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The Giant Claw

June 26th, 2009 | article by | No Comments »
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Columbia Pictures / Clover Productions [1957] 75′
country: United States
director: FRED F. SEARS
cast: JEFF MORROW, MARA CORDAY,
cast: MORRIS ANKRUM, LOUIS MERRIL

“Date – the 18th of the month. Sky clear, light clouds. Visibility – unlimited. Time – 08:15 hours. A CAB plane flies to the site of the previous day’s crash involving Mitchell MacAfee. On board: Four members of the Civil Aeronautics Board investigative team and a pilot. Time – 08:16 hours. . . another significant moment in history. . .”

The uncredited narrator for this film couldn’t have known how right he was. . .

It’s almost impossible for me to accurately account for the enormous impact this film had on me as a child – but I suppose I can give it a try anyway. My mother and her three sisters grew up watching this film throughout the late sixties and early seventies, during the heyday of television matinees, and had very fond memories of it themselves – particularly vivid was their recollection of the ending shot of the film showing a monstrous claw sinking slowly beneath the waves as THE END fades in over top of it. I, myself, grew up in the time when TNT’s MONSTERVISION scifi and horror marathons were truly at the top of their game. Knowing already that I had an interest in like films, my mother spotted that THE GIANT CLAW was slated for an appearance on the aforementioned network and, even though it was playing late, insured that a tape was rolling in the VCR to capture it.

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