This lively Mexican lobby card depicts the male astronaut with mucho machismo while the cringing female astronaut clings to him for protection. The English language lobby cards are not as blatantly sexist. Pay close attention to their faces: she's looking at something that's making her fearful, but he's looking at her and firing his gun without aiming at what's scaring her. I'll leave it up to you more Freudian-centric readers to figure this one out.
by Professor Kinema
For all practical purposes a cycle of German films dealing with supernatural themes, beginning with Der Student Von Prag in 1914, ended with Fahrmann Maria (Ferryboat Maria) in 1936. Reaching into folk legends, superstitions, and popular beliefs German filmmakers were fascinated by tales of alchemy, deals with the devil, battles with mythical beings, and, especially, appearances of the personification of Death.
In 1921 Fritz Lang’s film Der Mude Tod (Destiny) featured a character with ashen features dressed in a dark robe: Death itself. The figure of the stranger who appears out of the fog shrouded shadows and is ferried across the river late at night in Fahrmann Maria is a direct descendant of Lang’s Death character.
An occasional twist to these old tales was the concept of Death being defeated (usually through the power of love) and one’s ultimate fate being postponed. Historically, variations on this element carried over a few decades later into Cocteau’s Orpheus and Bergman’s The Seventh Seal.
Frank Wisbar (born Franz Wysbar) was born in Tilsit in 1899. He acquired technical training from Carl Boese and Carl Froelich, and in 1932 directed his first film, Im Banne des Eulenspiegels, (Spell of the Looking Glass). Before directing what is considered his masterpiece, Fharmann Maria, his most noted film was Anna and Elisabeth (1934). The year of this film’s release was the peak year in the history of the German sound film up to the end of World War II, and totaled 147 releases. By this time the National Socialists were in power with Joseph Goebbels appointed as Minister For Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, and filmmakers were suddenly losing their artistic freedoms.
The loss in entertainment value was noted in a New York Times review of the cinema in Berlin (July 2, 1933, IX, 2:2). The reviewer praises Anna and Elisabeth, making special note that it was made before NS control. The reviewer states “…And maybe by next season the cultural politicians (not mentioning Goebbels by name) of the Third Reich will have come to the realization that the public pays money to the box office to be entertained, not to have party publicity crammed down it’s throat.”
By the second most proficient year, 1936, with 143 releases, the quality of the German cinema predictably had fallen. Only two features of this batch approached any merit: Die Klugen Fraue, directed by Arthur Maria Rabenalt, and Fahrmann Maria. By 1945 the only other true fantasy film to be produced was Munchausen (1943). This film was presented as a lighthearted, overproduced, purely escapist color extravaganza. No other films of this era explored the darker side of undying love, sacrifice, and death defeated.
Wisbar and several of his associates, described as a group of first-rate Teuton film players, formed a cooperative. It functioned under the banner Pallas-Film GambH. Having interest in folk legend and the supernatural, Wisbar initially planned to make a film titled Der Werewolf, but was halted during production. Had this film completed it would have been one of sound film’s earliest forays into the world of cinematic lycanthropy, predating Universal’s The Werewolf of London (1935). The locale that was to be used, a favorite setting of the director’s, was Luneberger Heath near Hamburg. This heath was appropriately eerie with its watery bogs and foreboding looking poplar trees. Although an ideal setting for a werewolf story, the location would be subsequently used as a setting for a confrontation and resultant struggle with the personification of Death. Traveling far from the studio, Wisbar moved cast and crew here to lens Fahrmann Maria.
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An Examination of Fahrmann Maria (1936)
and Strangler of the Swamp (1946)Read More »
"Women's Lib Controversy Stunt — The character of Vulnavia…is an ideal example of female servitude as she plays background music to Dr. Phibes nasty machinations; pops grapes in his mouth and provides gorgeous feminine comfort in complete silence to the master criminal. Have pretty girls picket your theatre with signs stating "Dr. Phibes is a chauvinist male monster…""
–from the Exploitation section of the Dr. Phibes Rises Again pressbook.
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A visit to Curly's graveside,
courtesy of Professor Kinema.
"N'yuk, n'yuk, n'yuk!"
If ever a visit to a gravesite conjurs up visions and, especially, sounds of days gone past, it's a visit with Jerome Lester 'Curly' Howard, nee Horwitz.
When one (that is, those of us who truly appreciate the finer art of comedy at it's absolute lowest) thinks of the Three Stooges, the first sounds one hears are the sounds that eminated from the pudgy, hair-challenged one of the trio. For sure, he was the only man in existance who could recieve a pretty girl's comment of, "My, what a beautiful head of bone you have there," and take it as a compliment; "Aw, I bet you say that to all the boys."
Moe was the 'Head Stooge,' Larry was the 'Stooge in the middle' and Curly was the 'Super-Stooge.'
Being the youngest of Jennie and Soloman Horwitz' five sons, his mother always called him 'my baby.' This nickname morphed into 'Babe.' In the first of the 97 short comedies he appeared in for Columbia, without his hair and mustache, he was referred to as 'Jerry.' This again morphed into 'Curly,' a natural moniker for one sans hair. Like many other beloved performers and personalities, his grave marker carries the surname he was best known as instead of his birth name. Inscribed is Jerome Howard instead of Horwitz.
At Graceland, devoted fans make the pilgrimage to visit Elvis' grave. At Westwood Cemetery, fans make the jaunt specially to touch Marilyn Monroe's crypt. Assorted desciples visit Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris to 'commune' with the ethereal spirits of Kardac and Jim Morrison (attracting two vastly different sects of followers, to be sure). Rabid admirers in turn, including the ole Prof, have paid a special visit to a specific gravesite in the Home of Peace Memorial Park in East Los Angeles. With a tradition reaching back into antiquity, offerings are left at this gravesite, usually stones brought from the visitor's home. Unfortunately, fans tend to feel the need to take a souvenir back with them. This often results in a chip from the tombstone.
It's a true homage to a bygone personality and his contribution to culture (especially the USA's 'junk culture') when his image is used in conveying a message in modern times. Along with Jeopardy's Alex Trebek and former US President Clinton, Curly was asked one of the eternal questions of our age: "Got Milk?"
While visiting a friend in Brooklyn in the 1990s, he led me to a certain nearby billboard. Milk will always remain an excellent source of calcium for stronger bone density, which was especially needed for what Moe always referred to as Curly's 'cast iron skull.'
If asked whether or not he drank a lot of milk, his reply could only have been "Soiten-ey!"
PK/JK
Zombos Says: Good
Combining Poltergeist‘s spectre of evil intent poised at the threshold, and Nightmare On Elm Street‘s gloved spiritus emeritus, Insidious provides scares aplenty, making it a perfect first date movie.
The evil intent comes from unwholesome spirits trapped in the Further, a place that’s dark, endless, and appears to be one train stop from Hell. The paranormal investigator who explains the Further takes too much time to do it, and gives us more mumbo jumbo about it, and astral projection, than we really need to know; but getting to this point and moving on from it are what make this popcorn movie from director James Wan and writer Leigh Whannell so much fun.
The Lambert family moves into their new home, a dark old house that has a darker, creepier attic. Soon, voices coming from the baby’s monitor, dark shapes moving between rooms, neatly shelved books found scattered on the floor, and banging on the front door in the dead of night make mom Renai (Rose Byrne) fearful the house is haunted. When her son Dalton (Ty Simpkins) cannot wake up, and the loud noises and disturbances escalate, she insists they move. Her husband Josh (Patrick Wilson) reluctantly agrees.
Their new, new home is brighter and cheerier until those disturbances start up again. Muting colors increases the dread. When the Lamberts are in the older, darker house, it’s still a tad brighter before Dalton falls into his coma-like sleep, then the color fades away. Color returns in their second home until the haunting continues, then it fades. Josh is losing his color, too. He avoids going home, saying he needs to stay late at work, leaving Renai terrorise en solo. Her mother-in-law Lorraine (Barbara Hershey) believes her: Lorraine has seen and spoken to the evil shadow with the red face hovering near Dalton’s bed. She knows what it wants. She explains why Josh has been avoiding the situation and why there are no photographs of him as a child.
Elise (Lyn Shaye), a psychic investigator and family friend, is called in. Elise’s two nerdy, geek-squad-style investigators pull out the ghost-hunting gadgetry and start searching for evidence, each trying to top the other with his technical savior faire. When one pulls out a flashlight after the lights go out, the other pulls out a bigger flashlight. Elise sees the red-faced thing hovering around the boy and realizes Dalton, like his father, has out of body experiences–astral projection–and has traveled too far into The Further: a place where spirits and demons dwell. He’s stuck in The Further while they try to take over his body and use it as a bridge to reenter the living world.
It’s hard to tell when Wan is being cheeky or serious, especially when Elise dons a goofy gas mask contraption to enter a trance, but the chills keep coming. I counted four jump scares I jumped at, then stopped counting but didn’t stop jumping. Insidious plays like a William Castle spookfest. One of the pararnormal investigators even has his own makeshift version of Illusion-O to find spirits by looking through different colored filters.
If you insist on eating popcorn while watching this movie make sure it’s not buttered; the people sitting around you will appreciate that. It also helps not to have buttered fingers when you need to reassure your date everything is okay. She (or he) will need lots of reassurance.
Rummaging through a pile of photographs from Professor Kinema, I was stymied by this one of Abbott and Costello.
Zany? Yes. Nonsensical? Yes. Perfect picture for a funny caption? Certainly. So add your funny captions to the comments section already!
This is one of the finer examples of what a pressbook can be: a large format packed with lots of promotion for the movie. I'm missing a few admat pages, which I'll add in eventually.
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The is the re-release, Realart Pressbook for The Invisible Ray. I left out one page of ad mats.
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by Professor Kinema
Underneath the opening credits is an image of something dark and murky. It is revealed to be a mud puddle in the courtyard of a seedy boarding school for boys just outside of Paris. The dark and murkiness establishes a motif and sets the tone for the story to follow, a tale of mental as well as physical abuse, a plot of murder gone wrong, and all the diabolical intrigue that follows. Much of the cinematic imagery mirroring these elements consist of dimly lit interiors, long shadows and grey exteriors.
Reaching into international film history, one can see the influences for les Diaboliques. A true autéur, director/screenwriter Henri-Georges Clouzot exercises a masterful control of the extreme darks and lights which hark back to the German Expressionism (with surrealism touches) of works like Cabinet of Caligari (1920), Nosferatu (1922) and Warning Shadows (vt, Schatten – Eine nächtliche Halluzination, 1923). The movie’s key shock scenes are the drowning of the abusive husband, his ’dead’ body being transported from the apartment to the swimming pool and his eventual rise from the dead – with totally blank eyes. This is all accomplished in the truest sense of film noir intermingled with heavy doses of le Grande Guinol. The title is translated as either ‘The Devils’ or ‘The Fiends.’ All involved in the diabolical plot can be defined as devils or fiends, for sure. With the retitling for the US release, Diabolique, there is an emphasis on an intangible plot element; something diabolical is going on here. In either interpretation, the title works.
The thematic element of placing the setting at a boy’s boarding school, that has definitely seen better days, is reminiscent of Jean Vigo’s Zero de Condiute (Zero For Conduct, 1933). As pre-teen and teenaged schoolboys do, they laugh, joke around, complain, and yet are reluctantly obedient to their adult supervisors. This is played out among these same adults who are experiencing emotional turmoil. While plotting the intrigue that would go with a murder and it’s sinister aftermath, they must function in their every day routines as educators and administrators.
This play between what we, the audience, are shown, what we are told, and, consequently, what we are led to believe is the essence of the suspense of the story. Along with the fragile Christine and stoic Nicole, all present are also victims of the abusive and insulting headmaster Michel. If ever a character in a story was being groomed for elimination, it’s this slick, chain-smoking lothario: students and staff are compelled to dine on bad fish; Christina is humiliated by being forced to swallow this very same bad fish with everyone looking on. Yet, being adolescents, the students rebel by ending up not eating their meal, instead using it for an impromptu food fight. Rebellion is definitely in the works, but it’s not only the students who rebel.
Because of her weak heart, Christina’s physical state is established early on as a ‘petite ruin.’ The question as to whether or not she and Nicole truly managed to murder Michel, or if he’s ‘risen from the dead,’ causes much on-screen tension. Two interesting exchanges containing ‘death’ lines occur in les Diaboliques.
Christina to Nicole: “If only I could die and not see him any more.”
Michel: “Why don’t you dear? Go and die. We‘ll bury you, and good riddance”
Christina and Nicole arguing whether their victim Michael is truly dead:
Nicole: “There’s an explanation for everything, there are no miracles”
Christina: “Each time I shut my eyes – I think I see him come in.
Nicole: “Will you be quiet! He must be in a pretty state by now.”
Christina: “If he’s dead!”
Nicole: “I’ve seen dead people before. Michel is very dead.”
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Diabolical Professor Kinema Reflections
On Diabolique (1955)Read More »
Zombos Says: Fair
“I still want my money back,” insisted Zombos. He gets like that when we see a movie he doesn’t like.
“Fine, then,” I relented. Here’s your six dollars. But I’m not paying for the popcorn and Junior Mints. You ate most of those anyway.” Zombos folded the money and pocketed it, then rushed back to the concession stand. Probably to buy more Junior Mints. While I waited
for him, I thought through my impressions of Catherine Hardwicke’s Red Riding Hood.
A child’s imagination of fairy tale prettiness infuses everything. Clothes, people, the surrounding medieval forest, it’s all colorful, cheerful, and naively pretty. Clothes are clean and neat, people are clean and neat, and the village is clean and neat. No Dark Ages grunge or
malaise to be found here. Cindy Evans’ television series costuming (the way rustic villagers in Stargate SG-1 episodes are dressed, for example), reinforces this lightness. And although snow is falling and winter is upon them, no one is bundled up against the chill. No frosty-breath comes from mouths and the ladies’ bosoms are bared for spring, especially Valerie’s (Amanda Seyfried). When Grandmother (Julie Christie) gives her the red-hooded cloak, it’s a fashion statement, not a garment to wear because it’s cold.
The Village of Daggerhorn has been beset by a killer wolf for many years, yet the village is happy, a thriving place with everyone well-adjusted, immaculately groomed, and nattily attired. The forest is happy with its bright fields of flowers, and the village idiot is happy, and
as pretty and well groomed as everyone else. He doesn’t act too idiotic, either, just enough to be adorably off.
Father Auguste (Lukas Haas) is the only one who is dour and shows concern. He has sent for the witch and werewolf hunter Father
Solomon (Gary Oldman playing Gary Oldman). Father Solomon’s prior experience with a werewolf left him traveling around in an armored carriage with heavily armed guards. Arriving in the village, one guard, sitting atop the carriage, keeps aim with his crossbow, sweeping it back and forth as if he expects trouble any second. It looks pretty silly. Solomon also travels with a large, hollow, bronze elephant, with a door in one side. He locks people he doesn’t like in it and lights a fire underneath to torture them.
This is as medieval as it gets.
Before Father Solomon arrives, Valerie’s sister is killed by the wolf, sending the men off to hunt it down. They find a gray wolf, kill it, bring its head back, and show it to Father Solomon, claiming he’s not needed. He disagrees and gives them the standard rundown on
werewolfism. They ignore him and hold a rave party instead (or what would be the equivalent of one, I’d guess, for medieval times). The computerized werewolf shows up, chews up the scenery and townsfolk, and speaks to Valerie before he leaves. She notices his big brown human eyes as he tells her to run away with him or else he’ll put the bite on the entire village.
Valerie now has a difficult decision to make. Run away with the darkly handsome, tousle haired, woodcutter Peter (Shiloh Fernandez), or stay and marry the handsome, tousle haired blacksmith Henry (Max Irons), or run away with a real stud, the tousle haired werewolf with big brown eyes. There is no tension or suspense produced by her difficult decision: Hardwicke’s tone is non-committal, David Johnson’s story is vapid, and Seyfried’s performance is overshadowed by her hooded cloak. I had a more rewarding time at the concession stand making up my mind between Junior Mints and Reese’s Pieces.
The romance turns into a whodunit as Valerie stares into people’s eyes, wondering who (maybe whom?) the werewolf is. When the revelation comes it’s like an ending from an Agatha Christie mystery.
Come to think of it, I want my money back, too.