Professor Kinema Archives - From Zombos' Closet

Professor Kinema: The Jeff Morrow Interview
Part 1

June 26, 2013 / Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

Jun 26 2013

Jeff Morrow as Exeter

by Professor Kinema

This interview conducted by Professor Kinema (Jim Knusch) with actor Jeff Morrow originally appeared in Psychotronic Video magazine (Fall, 1993). Professor Kinema expands on his article for Zombos’ Closet.

While most cinematic alien visitors from the Cosmos pay us a visit to conquer Earth, issue some sort of ultimatum for peace, or in some way threaten to do us harm, Exeter, instead emerged as a true hero in This Island Earth. His uniquely altruistic qualities were infused into his character by the very earthbound actor Jeff Morrow.

Morrow was originally from New York City where he was born Leslie Irving Morrow in 1913. He went to Pratt Institute and worked as a commercial illustrator to pay for drama school. He started acting on stage, in Pennsylvania, as early as 1927, and made his Broadway debut under the name Irving Morrow in 1936’s Romeo and Juliet (he played Tybalt).

His other 23 stage roles were for Billy Budd, Across the Board, Three Wishes For Jamie, Candida, MacBeth (as Banquo with Maurice Evans and Judith Anderson), Saint Joan (with Kronos co-star John Emery), Lady From the Sea, What a Life, Penal Law, Once in a Lifetime, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Twelfth Night. He shared the limelight with Dennis King, Eddie Bracken, Edith Evans, Katharine Cornell, Katharine Hepburn, Luise Rainer, Mae West, Torin Thatcher, Eli Wallach, Ralph Richardson, Basil Rathbone, Brian Ahern, and many others.

According to the souvenir booklet for The Robe, Morrow had appeared in 200 TV shows as well as being heard on 2000 radio programs before he made the journey to Hollywood. For two years he was heard as the voice of Dick Tracy. In all, he appeared in 23 films. Some were memorable like Flight to Tangiers, The Sign of the Pagan, Tanganyika, and Hour of Decision; and a few that, in his words, were “best forgotten:” The Siege at Red River, Copper Sky, Harbor Lights. There was one comedy, Pardners (with Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis).

Of special interest to science fiction fans are the select genre films he appeared in like This Island Earth, Kronos, The Creature Walks Among Us, and the not so memorable The Giant Claw, Legacy of Blood, and Octaman. On the small screen he starred in Union Pacific, appeared as a regular on The New Temperatures Rising, had notable roles on Daniel Boone, The Name of the Game, Perry Mason, The Virginian, Judd For the Defense, Sarge, Iron Horse, Wagon Train, Bonanza, GE Theater, Philco, Studio One, one very memorable episode of original Twilight Zone and another on the later revival of The Twilight Zone.

At the time of this interview (early 1993) he resided in Encino, California with his wife, former actress Anna Karen. His daughter, Lissa Megan Morrow, was a free-lance sportswriter. In these latter years he worked as a commercial illustrator while taking occasional acting assignments. To occupy in-between time he and his wife dabbled in Real Estate. After one introductory phone call we spoke for 90 minutes. The entire interview was recorded on an audiocassette which is now in the Kinema Archives. Afterwards I sent photographs to him, from my collection, for his autograph. When the envelope returned, a few extras from his own collection were included among them.

A transcript of the highlights of this interview, plus an article embellishment, was submitted to Mike Weldon, editor of Psychotronic Video magazine. After its publication, Jeff Morrow passed away, on December 26, 1993. Mike Weldon and I determined that this was the last interview Jeff Morrow did before he his death.

The article was received well by readers of Psychotronic Video magazine, with one minor exception: Bill “Keep Watching the Skies” Warren sent in a letter with a small detail he considered important enough to mention. In the article, regarding This Island Earth, I said how the original story developed from 3 stories originally published in 3 issues of Thrilling Wonder Stories, and how they morphed into a novelization for This Island Earth. Warren disagreed, and stated that what resulted was not a novelization. Mr. Warren is incorrect in his assessment.

In the This Island Earth Universal Filmscripts Series there is an essay by Forrest J. Ackerman titled I Never Met a Luna Mutant I Didn’t Like. In it he states how he was the literary agent for Raymond F. Jones and how he was involved with the publication of the novel of This Island Earth, which combined the three pulp stories. He goes on to mention that a publisher in Germany published the novelization (Ackerman’s term) by Walter Ernsting.

The entry on Wikipedia concerning the This Island Earth novel contains the publishing history, listing four editions in all: the first novel was published in 1952; the German paperback edition in 1956 (the year after the release of the film); and two more paperback editions were published in 1991 and 1999. The 1999 version is a Forrest J. Ackerman Presents paperback reprinting the 1952 novel. An illustration of Jeff Morrow as Exeter adorns the cover. On the Amazon webpage, where copies of this book are offered for sale, readers comment on the original novel. It is referred to as a novelization.

At the end of his reworked entry on This Island Earth, in his 21st edition of Keep Watching the Skies, Warren states that the first published novel is a “fixup” (his term) of the three Raymond F. Jones stories. I am not sure what he means by “fixup.” I have not seen any research into the history of published works where the term “fixup” is used in this regard.

So, I’ll just say that my reworked and expanded articles on Jeff Morrow that will be appearing here are “fixups” and call it a day.

The Jeff Morrow Interview Conducted by Professor Kinema

PK: I must mention the fact that I am pleased to be conducting an interview with possibly the second most famous movie alien of the Fantastic Cinema of the 1950s. Exeter of This Island Earth ranks right up there next to Michael Rennie’s Klaatu of The Day the Earth Stood Still. If there was ever an Alien Hall of Fame your Exeter would definitely be part of it.

Jeff: (laughs) Well, I’m flattered. I didn’t realize that. I know of all the fan mail that I’ve received, the bulk of it has been from those remembering This Island Earth.

PK: Just as a matter of record, in Forrest J. Ackerman’s Spacemen magazine, Exeter was paid a tribute of sorts. In issue #5 (October 1962) he was declared ‘Spaceman of Distinction #2’. I believe that this was the only movie alien so mentioned in the magazine’s short run. But your screen career began several years before, after years of distinguished stage experience?

Jeff: Yes, that was The Robe in 1953.

Go to Part 2

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Professor Kinema Remembers Ray Harryhausen

May 17, 2013 / Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

May 17 2013

From Professor Kinema…

He was the one person who instilled my personal interest in the Cinema. I had the extreme pleasure to meet him on several occasions. I even got to interview him. The results of the interview morphed into five Professor Kinema shows.

In just about all interviews he’s had, he always related the story of how the direction of his life was truly altered when he attended his first theater showing of King Kong in 1933. As a kid, I underwent a similar life and career revellation when I caught my first screening of The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.

The film was showing during a Saturday afternoon ‘kiddie matinee’ in the early 1960s, a few years after it’s initial release in 1958. In the steady ruckus happening in the theater (as was always the case during Saturday afternoon kiddie matinees) I was enthralled by the sheer magical fantasy that was coming from the screen.

Coming to life before my eyes was a fire breathing dragon, a magician’s concoction of a snake woman, two headed Rocs,a giant Cyclops, and an incredible sword fight between Sinbad and a skeleton. This cinematic fantastique was instilling an interest in the history and genres of movies within my pre-teen brain. I simply had to know how this movie magic was accomplished. Subsequently, I embarked on a personal magical journey of my own. This journey of the Quest of Cinematic Knowledge continues to this day.

The passing of special effects wizard Ray Harryhausen ended the reign of the three original Bat Packers (as Forry Ackerman always referred to them), which included Forry himself and Ray Bradbury.

Mainly through brief encounters at conventions I was able to meet Ray Harryhausen. I had the opportunity to thank him for instilling my interest in the cinema. He gladly acknowledged. While standing on line to have stills and other material inscribed, I couldn’t help but overhear other conventioneers tell him the exact same thing.

During the weekend run of one particular Science Fiction convention in 2001 (that I was actively involved in), I was able to conduct an on-camera interview with him. I sat next to the camera that was framing him.

The interview lasted for about 1 1/2 hours. It was initially for the inclusion of a public access TV show titled Infinite Possibilities that friends of mine were producing. An unedited copy of the entire interview was made for me to utilize in my Professor Kinema show.

Portions of the interview morphed into a three-part show as well as two additional shows titled From Kong to Joe Young and The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad and Jack the Giant Killer – a Comparison. For the convention and the interview he had brought along with him several animation models for display. He allowed me to handle one of the skeletons that was used in Jason and the Argonauts. Harryhausen was impressed by my ready knowledge of his life and work as well as of the history of special effects in the Cinema in general.

The Kinema Archives contains many stills, books, magazines, posters and lobby cards that Ray was happy to inscribe for me. One item was a book that I had found at a yard sale, The Seven Voyages of Sindbad the Sailor. Published in 1949 (the year I was born as well as the year Mighty Joe Young was released) it had nothing to do with the film The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad. Harryhausen had never seen it. He looked it over and on my request inscribed it to me. He wrote “A wonderful book. I wish I had it when making the 7th Voyage. Best wishes! Ray Harryhausen.”

Copies of the three part Ray Harryhausen interview, plus two other shows: From Kong to Joe Young and The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad and Jack the Giant Killer – a Comparison Professor are available. Contact Professor Kinema (Jim Knusch) through his Facebook page.

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Conjure Wives by Professor Kinema

January 4, 2013 / Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

Jan 4 2013

O, creator of Hecate, Damkina, Marduk's Messenger … tem-khepera, khnemu … Beelzebub in the netherworld … Satan in Gehenna … Controller of seven thousand and seven curses and talismans … and who is known to obedient desciples as Gangida … hold all your powers and those of your do-bidders … and their familiars … and cast a protecting shield above those gathered present…Pull back from airy bodies those vested with evil … grant, O, magnificent one, no harm from the spells about to be witnessed. Direct them not! This faithful servent begs for Thy favor! Eftir irne-zet! Now with a free mind and protected soul, we ask you to enjoy Burn Witch, Burn!

Fritz Leiber's first novelette, Conjure Wife, originally appeared in the April, 1943 issue of Unknown Worlds , a pulp magazine. An expanded and revised version was published by Twayne Publishers in its Witches Three anthology in 1952, then issued as a stand-alone novel in 1953. Both hardcover and paperback editions, by a variety of publishers, continue in print to this day. Leiber's story is widely acknowledged to be a classic of modern horror fiction, included in David Pringle's Modern Fantasy: The 100 Best Novels, and in Fantasy: The 100 Best Books by James Cawthorn and Michael Moorcock. In The Encyclopedia of Fantasy, David Langford described it as "an effective exercise in the paranoid." Science Fiction author Damon Knight wrote:

"Conjure Wife, by Fritz Leiber, is easily the most frightening and (necessarily) the most thoroughly convincing of all modern horror stories… Leiber develops [the witchcraft] theme with the utmost dexterity, piling up alternate layers of the mundane and outré, until at the story's real climax, the shocker at the end of Chapter 14, I am not ashamed to say that I jumped an inch out of my seat…Leiber has never written anything better."

It was the original pulp novelette on which the screenplay of its first film version, Weird Woman (1944), was roughly based. Universal had initiated a B unit-produced series inspired by, and copying the name of, the popular radio series The Inner Sanctum. At the time, the series was in it's heyday and a series of Inner Sanctum books was equally popular. The Universal series, however, was promoted as a separate and original entity.

The first film of the series was Calling Dr Death (1943), which featured Lon Chaney, Jr, who went on to star in the entire series over the next couple of years. The director was Reginald Le Borg, under contract to Universal. Le Borg and Chaney had previously made The Mummy's Ghost (1943) and, after Calling Dr Death, moved on to the second of the Inner Sanctum series, Weird Woman. The series continued with Dead Man's Eyes (1944, again directed by Le Borg), Pillow of Death (1944), The Frozen Ghost (1945) and Strange Confession (1945). Of the entire Inner Sanctum series, Weird Woman is generally considered to be the best.

Weird Woman's screenplay was prepared by Brenda Weisberg and W. Scott Darling. The credits read "Screenplay by Brenda Weisberg, from the novel by Fritz Leiber, Jr" and "Adaption by W Scott Darling." The title of Leiber's novelette is not mentioned. Le Borg was handed the script a week before production was to begin and prepared for filming without reading the novelette. Via promotion, theater-goers were reminded that Lon Chaney, Sr was known as "The Man of a Thousand Faces," so now his son, Chaney, Jr was touted as "The Man with the Voodoo Voice." According to Weird Woman's pressbook, Chaney developed this talent in order to "project the voice of the supernatural," supposedly using a trick of ventriloquism taught to him by his father. Evelyn Ankers, the heavy of the story, carried the label "The Queen of the Horror Films."

Chaney was cast as Professor Norman Reed, a teacher of sociology at Monroe College in New England and the author of 'Superstition vs Reason and Fact.' In the novelette, his name is Norman Saylor, a teacher at Hempnell College who is preparing a paper, 'The Social Background of the Modern Voodoo Cult.' Ann Gwynn plays his wife, Paula (Tansy Saylor in the novelette), and Evelyn Ankers is Ilona Carr (Mrs. Carr in the novelette, referred to at one point as "…that libidinous old bitch"). It is not clear which of the female leads can truly be referred to as the weird woman. Since several women in the cast are involved in some sort of witchcraft, the film could more appropriately be titled Weird Women.

Ann Gwynne proves to be the victim-weird-woman while Evelyn Ankers proves to be the evildoer-weird-woman. Promotion featured a provocatively sinister-looking Anne Gwynne posed in a sarong, hands outstretched and exuding a diabolic nature that is not developed as such in the film. Yet the term 'Weird Woman' could ultimately refer to woman-kind in general, as it is with the women in the plot who are bewitched and bewitching. Reportedly, the confrontation sequence between Gwynne and Ankers proved to be a difficult undertaking because they were such good friends.

Weird Woman reached a new audience when it was included as part of the original SHOCK! package of 52 Universal titles released to television in 1957.

After the 1953 publication of the reworked Conjure Wife in hardcover, it was to be the inspiration of the definitive screen version nine years later. In the meantime, a Twilight Zone episode titled The Jungle appeared on the airwaves on Dec 1, 1961. It was based on a short story of the same name by Charles Beaumont, first published in 1954 in If magazine. It later appeared in Beaumont's collection, Yonder (1958).

Plot-wise there were similarities to Leiber's novel, with a few touches of Val Lewton's Cat People tossed in. The story involves actors John Dehner and Emily McLachlin in a tale of a hydroelectric company executive whose firm is moving into an African nation to build a dam. The native residents don't take to the idea. An early sequence focuses on the (conjure?) wife whose husband discovers and subsequently destroys her magic charms and talismans. All, save one, are tossed in a fireplace. They go up in little puffs of smoke and make the wife terribly upset. Other elements common to this TV episode and the later Burn Witch, Burn crop up, such as Dehner's pursuit by an invisible force. His ultimate demise happens at the teeth and claws of a ferocious beast (here a lion) who inexplicably manifests itself after first appearing in stone form. No credit is given to Leiber.

In London the following year, two weeks before the cameras were to roll, writer George Baxt was handed a script written by Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont. Director Sidney Hayers was dissatisfied with what he felt was an unworkable treatment of Leiber's novel and turned to Baxt for help. Hayers and Baxt had previously worked successfully together on Circus of Horrors (1960).

Like Le Borg almost two decades earlier, Baxt had not read Conjure Wife. His task was to take the Beaumont/Matheson script and 'doctor' it, removing what was felt to be inane dialogue. For example, the professor's wife is confronted by her husband, who demands that she give up her witchcraft and voodoo and destroy her magic symbols, talismans, charms and so forth. An exact quote from the novel's text, also in the script, was "But couldn't I just quit by degrees?" This was changed to, "Couldn't I just taper off?"

In an interview I had with him in his NYC apartment, Edgar Award winning author George Baxt related his involvement with what was to eventually released as Burn Witch, Burn:

"It started with a call from an agent. I was living in London at the time. British director Sid Hayers had a script based on Fritz Leiber's Conjure Wife that was prepared by Charles Beaumont and Richard Matheson. The working title was Night of the Eagle. I previously prepared the screenplay for Circus of Horrors, also directed by Sid. The association was a good one. Both Beaumont and Matheson were established, well-known screenwriters, yet they came up with an unfilmable treatment. I was given two weeks to deliver a product and, needless to say, I had to work quickly. I had never read Leiber's novel. Work on the script continued during principal photography with additional pages and revisions delivered to the set on a daily basis.

(Note: I didn't ask him if Hayers or Baxt had seen and were familiar with Weird Woman of 1944)

"The original actress who was to play Tansy was June Allyson. Because of personal problems she was dropped and replaced by Janet Blair. Peter Wyngarde (Norman Taylor) was also cast as a replacement when the original actor became ill. Additions to the script that I was responsible for were the sequence in the graveyard and Tarot-card-burning scene. I thought the graveyard scene was handled well on the screen. Sid wanted me on the set throughout the shooting of the faculty bridge game. Margaret Johnston (Flora Carr) was the heavy of the story and it was important to the plot that she be positioned within the frame, appearing menacingly. Throughout she was constantly casting leery glances at Peter Wyngarde. The whole sequence was put on film in about an hour. I suggested at one point to place the camera behind the fireplace shooting out at the players (The Old Dark House-type of shot). As far as the eagle pursuit sequence goes, I originally didn't like the way it was handled, looking phony. Now, I think it was impressive."

Mention should also be made of the eagle that assays the role of the giant 'demon bird' who pursues Peter Wyngarde. It was a golden eagle named Lochinvar, trained especially for film and TV roles. The shot of the eagle bursting through the door was achieved by punching a glove puppet through a miniature of the door. There are only a few frames of this sequence before a very quick cut to a shot of an actual eagle in a miniature of the hallway, but the shape of a hand and wrist can just be made out in silhouette. Also, when the eagle is briefly shown in flight, a thin cable is visible attached to one of it's feet, guiding it's path. All in all, the complete sequence was effective for a film of it's day.

Pressbooks for Weird Woman and Burn Witch, Burn both emphasize supernatural elements of voodoo, witchcraft, and superstitions. Theatrical prints for the American release usually contained a pre-credit opening incantation (quoted at the start of this article), read by Paul Frees. It is heard over a totally blank screen, designed to expel 'evil spirits' from the theater, and psychologically prepare the audience for the story.

At one point in the story Norman jokingly refers to Mrs. Carr as "That old warlock." An interesting point since traditionally a warlock is what a male witch was referred to. Later in the story Norman catches Tansy with her charms and talismans. Angrily she states, "…yes, I'm a witch!" The 'not for publication' synopsis mentions a final shot of Tansy clutching the lucky charm behind her, the only one she managed to save. However, the actual final image is of the audio tape of one of Norman's classroom lectures unraveled on the ground right after the death of Mrs. Carr. The not-so-subtle question Do You Believe? is superimposed over the shot (instead of the simple 'The End' title that is in the British version).

…

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Remembering the Saturday Afternoon
Spook Shows

July 17, 2012 / Professor Kinema Archives / 2 Comments

Jul 17 2012

Professor Kinema remembers…

The recent announcement of the closure of a movie theater I regularly attended as a kid invoked many memories. The Saturday afternoon kiddie-matinee (a term I always took exception to, even as a kid) often consisted of a kid-friendly feature film, a few cartoons, and even a chapter of a resurrected serial.

Inside the theater the pervading atmosphere was one of chaos. Similar scenes have been well depicted in such films as Stoogemania, Tim Burton’s Ed Wood, and to a lesser degree in Joe Dante’s Matinee. Like the Josh Mostel character as a boy, Howard F. Howard of Stoogemania, I believed I was the only kid in this feral audience who was truly interested in watching what was happening on screen. To add to the madness, this theater offered what select theaters across the country were offering during this era: a Live Spook Show.

When the movie ended (like anyone would even notice) a business-suited man stepped out on the stage in front of the screen. Bathed in the glow of a harsh spotlight, he attempted to restore some order to the mayhem.

Once he got at least the minimal semblance of attention, he announced the theater was surrounded by spooks, and even more, a mad scientist would appear on this very stage and make a monster! Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, and a few assorted other creatures were likely to make appearances. Suddenly from the rear of the theater could be heard a blood curdling scream. All heads turned to catch the sight of a hapless female being pursued by a madman wielding a meat cleaver. The girl ran, still screaming, down one aisle, across the front and then back up the other aisle. The madman always managed to stay a few steps behind her, waving the weapon at the audience as well.

On stage, the announcer hastily departed. In his place came a shabby looking mad doctor and a few odd (very odd) assistants wheeling out what appeared to be a makeshift operating table. On the table was a large humanoid figure covered with a blood stained sheet, ugly feet protruding. A few, tinkered together, electrical devices where then set in place.

As the electricity flowed, the sheet stirred and whatever was underneath sat up, with the sheet falling off to reveal a monster! It didn't resemble the Frankenstein monster in the least, but it was assuredly a monster. Immediately, this monster became out of control and was set upon by the mad doctor and his assistants. All were quickly knocked to the ground. The monster turned to the audience, threateningly, but from stage left appeared … the Wolf Man! A battle ensued.

Dust was churned up and the lights dimmed. While growling and snarling, the unholy duo disappeared off stage. To this day I can’t recall who was the victor.

The live, monsters-in-your-face era of Saturday afternoon entertainment reached through the 1960s, embodied by Ray Dennis Steckler with his Hallucinogenic Hypnovision, and incorporated the mad slasher chasing hapless female scenario in such classics as Incredibly Strange Zombies, who Stopped Living and Became Crazy Mixed Up Zombies. Reportedly, he took his innovation one step further by accomodating outdoor drive-ins.

I got a strong feeling of community with these long gone live stage shows. During this Saturday afternoon melee, the cleaver wielding madman and his intended female victim managed one last dash through the theater. Upon closer examination of both of them, they bore a striking resemblance to a guy and his girlfriend who were in a grade or two ahead of me in school. I wonder what they're up to today?

–Jim K/Prof K

Remembering the Saturday Afternoon
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Professor Kinema Takes a Trip to LA

May 11, 2012 / Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

May 11 2012

On a recent trip to California, Professor Kinema was kind enough to pick up a fitting souvenir for me. I’m wearing it in the photo, standing in front of–what else?–a closet. Every now and then I like to let my lucha libre out.

The professor also paid a visit to the mecca of forgotten movie videos, Eddie Brandt’s Saturday Matinee in North Hollywood. Here are his pics to familiarize yourself with this important bastion of VHS treasures (and trash, too!).

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Cinematic Radiation’s Effects
By Professor Kinema

March 9, 2012 / Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

Mar 9 2012

At approximately 33 minutes into Robert Wise’s science fiction thriller, The Andromeda Strain, the action shifts to a small conference room. Some government officials are waiting for the President’s decision on dropping an atomic bomb on the small town where everyone has been killed by a mysterious alien microbe. Here, the lethal dangers of a deadly, otherworldly, virus are merged with the very real earthbound dangers of nuclear destruction.

One civilian character, identified as “Mr Secretary” is asked his opinion. He firmly states “It’s against the Moscow treaty of 1953 to fire thermonuclear weapons above ground.” Another character enters the room and tells them the President has decided against using the atomic bomb. Another character comments “It should have been left up to the scientists. It’s a colossal mistake.”

At least for the movies, this is typical, high-level governmental decision-making: pitting politicians against scientists in a matter of extreme urgency and dire consequences. Analyzing this sequence, one could detect a bit of cinematic irony lying beneath the surface. The character of “Mr. Secretary” is played by Glenn Langan. His dissenting dialogue centers around a statement regarding a thermonuclear device. Fourteen years earlier Glenn Langan appeared in a low budget science fiction thriller titled The Amazing Colossal Man. In it he plays Lt. Col. Glenn Manning, who is exposed to the full effects of a thermonuclear device and then begins to grow into…the Colossal Man. Perhaps it’s merely coincidence. Yet one can only wonder whether it was the screenwriter, Nelson Gidding, or the director, Robert Wise, who perpetrated this little sequence, paying homage to a cult sci-fi film auteured by director, Bert I. Gordon.

Professor Kinema (on right) with Bert I. Gordon

Glenn Langan’s unbilled appearance in The Andromeda Strain was his last appearance on screen. According to IMDb he ‘reinvented himself’ and went into real estate. However, to any and all schlock film aficionados, Glenn Langan’s cult status is firmly set because of his involvement with (and as) The Amazing Colossal Man.

Since The Incredible Shrinking Man made such a hit with movie audiences, The Amazing Colossal Man, assuredly, would do the same. At least this is what Bert I. Gordon surmised. Whatever could be incredible could no doubt be amazing. Part of what was incredible about the incredible shrinking man was the inevitable fact he would continue to shrink to absolute nothingness. What ultimately proved to be amazing about the Colossal Man was that he would continue to grow–until a huge hyperdermic needle put a stop to his growth spurt–and return in a sequel, War of the Colossal Beast, as the colossal beast who would wage war. These are all elements necessary for films to be more appropriately termed science fantasy. Even more amazing, the role of Lt. Col. Glenn Manning was now played by another actor (Dean Parkin), and he also had a sister when it was previously explained he had no family.

In essays on the dubious science in science fiction films, late scientist and author Isaac Asimov pointed out an interesting fact: if you adhere to the principles that the scientific community knows, accepts, and works with, they are often represented totally wrong in movies.

Both Shrinking and Colossal Man films have doctors attempting to explain what is happening to the hapless protagonists. The incredible shrinking man, Scott Carey, is exposed to a strange glittering mist while out on a boat. Since he is wearing only a bathing suit the residue from the mist completely covers him. Was it of alien origin? Maybe it was the product of offshore government testing that was released into the air? Was it conjured up specifically to infect one person, Scott Carey? According to the story presented in the novel and film, no one else on Earth was so affected. This mist simply appears from out of nowhere and exits to nowhere. Later, he is exposed to an insecticide which reacts with the mysterious element. This reaction starts his body to slowly diminish. A medical test strip reveals his body chemestry now contains a new and unidentifiable element (a shrinking hormone?) ingested from the mist. His body is ‘throwing off’ all of the chemical materials that make up his physical being. This explanation is offered rather than having his atoms physically diminish in size. Since this was the accepted cause, as he reduces in size other factors would come into play. When he becomes the size of a mouse, his brain would be mouse sized, hence he should’ve possessed the intelligence of a mouse. Subsequently, being the size of an ant he would yet live, but have the intellegince of an ant.

The amazing colossal man, Lt. Col. Glenn Manning, in a failed attempt to save a pilot in a downed plane, is caught in the full blast of a “plutonium bomb.” His clothes and skin are stripped away in the blast. This effects scene is repeated in this film and again in the sequel. Within a day’s time he is restored to apparent normalcy. However, a plutonium bomb, here, contains that ethereally mysterious and very deadly element (especially in the 1950’s)– radiation. His skin has reappeared, but now his physical makeup contains a new chemical property, the ability to increase in size (a super growth hormone?).

Again, a scientific explanation is offered, and there is a deadly side effect. As his body grows to colossal proportions, his heart grows half as much. In this case his brain is being deprived of blood, hence causing madness. This would work for a normal-sized brain. Taking into account true scientific factors, when an object increases in size it’s weight would cube, hence triple. A man growing to just twice his size would not be able to stand, much less walk. Before he would reach a height of 30 feet all internal organs would be pulled down to Earth via gravity and he would, in effect, be crushed. He speaks of ‘Army ingenuity’ in relation to the expanding garment he is now wearing. One can assume that this same Army ingenuity would either devise an expanding toilet…or even a super absorbent diaper.

That mysterious entity, radiation.

In the movies characters can either be constantly irradiated and not feel any ill effects, or catch minimal doses and suffer deadly results. The human characters of The Thing From Another World were constantly in the midst of strong radiation, extraterrestrial in origin, “…the needle has hit the top!” Yet none of the scientists present seemed concerned with any related danger. A true science fictional (or as author Harlan Ellison would’ve described, speculative fiction) plot device dominates the action of On the Beach. Here we are presented the few survivors of the human race soon after a global nuclear confrontation. No resultant mass damage is presented but rather simply the inevitable after effect–radiation sickness. No one is shown shrinking, growing, or mutating in any form. Those who were left living are slowly dying.

By the 1980s, just before the dissolving of the Soviet Union, a TV Movie titled The Day After further illustrated what the truer results of radiation poisoning would entail. Survivors were indeed slowly dying, but accompanied with the physical effects of hair loss, skin lesions, and loss of sanity. The final scenes of Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove show a variation of what concievably occured before the story of On the Beach; the Earth is covered with a “doomsday shroud” of the fictitious Cobalt-Thorium-G…for 93 years.

If creators of science fantasy were to obey the true laws of science and physics, cult cinema would never exist. We, true cult film aficionados, would rather not be denied such characters as the Incredible Shrinking Man, Amazing Colossal Man, Bert I. Gordon’s Puppet People, the Cyclops, the 50 Foot Woman, or even the 30 Foot Bride of Candy Rock. What would our filmgoing experiences be without one of the Puppet People’s rock ‘n roll renditions of You’re a Dolly, or the exchange between a doctor and a deputy commenting on 50 foot tall Nancy Acher’s jealous tirade in Attack of the 50 Foot Woman:

“She’ll tear up the whole town until she finds Harry!”
“Yea, then she’ll tear up Harry.”

Cinematic Radiation’s Effects
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Joe Dante’s Dante’s Inferno
And Other Worse Things
By Professor Kinema

November 28, 2011 / Magazine Morgue, Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

Nov 28 2011

With Thanksgiving under my belt, my thoughts always turn to turkeys. Not only conjured up images of the on-the-table-carving-kind with stuffing and cranberries, but also movies considered the worst on the silver screen–past and present. One web site I'm always checking out, as well as occasionally contributing to–at least in submitting an occasional vote–is the Razzies, where candidates for the past year's worst achievements are listed and voted on. The Golden Raspberry Awards have been around, and going strong, since March 31, 1981. A similar site, Rotten Tomatoes, was launched August 12, 1999. Pre-dating them is the yearly Harvard Lampoon "Worst of… " Awards. On Saturday, April 23rd, 1966, Natalie Wood made history when she became the first performer to show up at Harvard and graciously accept her award after being voted the year's Worst Actress .

Speaking of the Worst…

In the early 1960s, in the uncharted wastes of New Jersey, dwelled one young fan who was caught up in monsters, both classic and modern. Through the pages of magazines like Famous Monsters of Filmland and Castle of Frankenstein he was made aware of other kindred spirits who existed. They were appearing in FMoF's and CofF's pages since any and all were invited to submit letters, photos and mentions of fan clubs. This young fan was determined to have a letter, or at least a mention, in FMoF. He wrote to editor Forry Ackerman of his love for monster films and how much he loved reading FMoF. No response. He wrote of what he and his friends did when they were not attending school. Again, no response. He submitted a list of what he thought were the best classic and contemporary fanta-films. Again, no response. Maybe a serious re-thinking and change of concept was in order? So this young fan compiled a list of monster (and science fiction) films he thought were the worst. Although thematically cynical, this list was ahead of its time. This cynical young fan was future film director Joe Dante.

I digress…

Prior nods to the not-the-greatest horror and sci-fi films had been in the pages of FMoF and another Ackerman-edited magazine running concurrently, Spacemen. The premier issue of FMoF (1958) in the Out of This World Monsters article featured a still of the Ro-man with the caption "Robot Monster, the film so horrible it was not released, it escaped." One could easily ascertain the usage of the word "horrible" was used here not to mean anything horror-filled, but rather to imply a bad quality. The premier issue of Spacemen (July 1961) ran a full page photo of the aliens from Invasion of the Saucermen with the less-than-complimentary comments of them resembling "cabbage heads" and "heads that resemble meatballs with spaghetti" in the Orbituary Department. Issue #3 (April, 1962) contained a request from readers (one cheekily named 'Hans Orlac'), also in the Orbituary Department, to see a photo of "those unbelievably ridiculous popeyed planetmen from Killers From Space."

The young fans of FMoF and Spacemen (both periodicals presumably originating from the same typewriter of Unkka Forry) took no exception to the less than sterling comments of the films they were enjoying both on TV as well as on the big screen. Good films were enjoyable. Bad films were equally as enjoyable, mainly because they were bad. It was all taken in fun.

Okay, now back to Joe Dante…

A few weeks later his telephone rang. It was Forry Ackerman. Bang! The Ackermonster himself was calling him from the other side of the country…from the Ackermansion! He had read his list of 50 worst horror and sci-fi films with the utmost interest. Permission was asked if it could be expanded and embellished to be featured in the next issue of FMoF. Now a starry-eyed fan, he would be credited as the author!

Within a few months a huge envelope arrived with complimentary copies of FMoF #18 (July, 1962). On page 14 began what had now morphed into Dante's Inferno. There it was, a full-fledged article! Containing, as Dante later commented, "words that he didn't even understand." The 50 "worst films" listing was in alphabetical order begining with Adventure Island (1947) and winding up with Zombies on Broadway (1945). Two of Ed Wood's films were included: Bride of the Monster was listed as #7, and sandwiched between The Phantom From 10,000 Leagues (listed as Phantom of 20,000 Leagues) and Revolt of the Zombies was Plan 9 From Outer Space at #39. The entire comment was "I had heard a lot about Plan 9 From Outer Space and saw it to see if it was as bad as they said [although he doesn't elaborate on who "they" were]. It was even worse! There is a distinct possibility that it was the cheapest film ever made. The entire cast was awful. Special effects were laughable and even the old clips of Bela Lugosi were poor. The scene where Tor Johnson rose from the grave was the only good 5 seconds in the whole film. Vampira, Johnson, Lyle Talbot all wasted."

Similar pans described the other titles in Dante's Inferno. Soon after, Joe Dante was listed in CofF #3 (1963), and by issue #4 was a contributing editor. His editorial duties included compiling the Frankenstein (TV) Movie Guide. In his reflections of FMoFs 1 though 50 in Famous Monster of Filmland (Imagine, 1986), Forry Ackerman, writes about Dante's Inferno and the repurcussions it caused. He wrote that the young fan from New Jersey was a "Joe Nobody" and that he truly felt no one would take the article seriously. However, FMoF's publisher Jim Warren irately told him American International's president James H. Nicholson was fuming. His company was planning to reissue a few of the titles panned in the article. It was also made known that if FMoF were to now run articles putting down Imagi-Movies, it could be devastating. Producers and releasing companies would not want to promote anything, past or present, on the magazine's pages. Warren flatly told him "Don't ever run a criticism of another picture!"

So…

Two issues later a full page photo was printed in the beginning of the magazine. It depicted a large trophy sitting on the desk of a beaming James H. Nicholson. The trophy was the (first) Famous Monsters of Filmland Magazine Producer's Award for "the horror hit of 1962 – AIP's The Pit & the Pendulum." Pacified, Nicholson was smiling as Warren was proudly admiring it.

And what's more…

Evidently, one of the auteurs whose films Dante panned, Roger Corman, with Teenage Caveman #44 on the list, either forgave him or paid it no attention. Less than 20 years later Corman's New World Productions handled Hollywood Boulevard, and Piranha–both featuring early directing duties by Dante. Corman functioned as Associate Producer for both films.

By the time I had read Dante's Inferno I had caught an airing of Plan 9 on television. As a pre-teen monster fan I thought of it as a bit odd. Other fanta-films seemed to have more substance and looked better. Now here was someone out there in the world that caught the same eccentricities I was observing while viewing these films. Here with this listing were many more. To me it all fell in to the general appreciation for them. Watching a film either on TV or in the movies, especially with friends, was all part of fandom. The fun was in either being generally thrilled by a truly scary film, or having a good laugh with it. Plan 9's (as well as Bride of the Monster's) auteur was not mentioned in Dante's Inferno, but recognition would come soon after his death. His body of work would be resurrected, reappraised, reevaluated and heralded…as the worst.

Now about Ed Wood Jr…

1978, the year Edward Davis Wood Jr. died at the age of 54, saw the publication of a book titled The 50 Worst Films of All Time (Popular Library). The authors were listed as Harry Medved with Larry Dreyfuss. Listed were films af all genres, touching on a few horror and sci-fi films. Mixed in with titles like The Conqueror, Myra Breckenridge, Lost Horizon and Valley of the Dolls, were titles like Eegah!, The Horror of Party Beach, Robot Monster and Santa Claus Conquers the Martians. All truly deserving of inclusion in a book listing the worst. Hidden in the back of the book on page 284 was something unique, a form to be cut out (or xeroxed like I did) and sent to Michael Medved in Venice, California, listing your (the reader's) favorite worst films. This little element gave a hint as to who really authored The 50 Worst Films of All Time. As was revealed a few years later, Michael Medved did the bulk of the writing. He didn't want his name associated with the book mainly because he was working at establishing a career in Hollywood as a screenwriter. It has also been established he was working as a script doctor.

Anyway, the mail-in-your-worst-films poll was counted (with yours truly prominently among the results), instigating a follow-up book, Golden Turkey Awards (Perigee Books, 1980). Here was a listing by brother authors Harry and Michael Medved (whatever became of Dreyfuss?) naming and awarding film turkeys, "Golden Turkeys" no less. This bad film label sat a little better with readers than what a popular TV critique show running at the time was using. At the end of the Siskel and Ebert show they would comment on a film they determined to be the Dog of the Week. This didn't endear them to viewers who had and loved those cinematic pet dogs.

But what about the poll's results?

As a result of the 50 Worst Films of All Time mail-in poll, the two movies that came out on top as the undeniably worst were The Exorcist II, the Heretic and Plan 9 From Outer Space. Neither were originally listed in their previous 50 Worst Films of All Time. This dubious distinction sparked the interest in Ed Wood Jr., who to this day still holds the title of the Worst Director ever. Extensive comments were included about Plan 9, Ed Wood Jr., and an overview of his films.

Four years later the Medveds published The Hollywood Hall of Shame, subtitled The Most Expensive Flops in Movie History. Nowhere is listed Ed Wood Jr. or any of his films.

And then…

Bill Warren, in his early editions of Keep Watching the Skies states "In The Golden Turkey Awards, the reprehensible Harry and Michael Medved, who consistently display a repulsively arrogant attitude toward the efforts of helplessly untalented but comparatively more sincere people…" in his commentary on Plan 9, calls their book "contemptible." By the 2010 edition of his book Warren omits the "reprehensible" and "contemptible." He adds that Harry "has reformed [at least by his standards] and has become a good writer on film subjects with a fondness for Plan 9."

In 1996 another book listing movie turkeys was published: The Worst Movies of All Time, or What Were They Thinking? (Citadel) by Michael Sauter. Not particularly well researched, it covered much the same ground as the Medved books, and then some. Wood and his films were given sporadic mention in the final part, The Baddest of the B's.

Now back to Joe Dante…and a wrap up with Bela and Ed Wood…

At Unkka Forry's 75th Birthday party I sat at the same table with Joe Dante. In between his signing autographs we chatted. We briefly touched on his Dante's Inferno article. Also at this party was Mark Carducci, who was finishing up filming his documentary Flying Saucers Over Hollywood, a Plan 9 Companion (1992). Dante, along with several others, spoke to the partygoers. He mentioned the whole incident about writing to Forry and eventually getting his letter listing the 50 worst films published. This section of his talk made it into Carducci's documentary. Also in the documentary are comments by Harry Medved. He revealed that he was influenced, of sorts, by Dante's Inferno. Ironically, none of the films listed in Dante's article were listed in the 50 Worst Films of All Time book. It took solicited reader response and another book to re-discover Ed Wood Jr. and his films.

Viewing and evaluating the films Bela Lugosi was appearing in towards the end of his life one can see his association with Wood wasn't the worst that could've happened to him. Wood maintained a genuine fondness for Bela and was always looking to include him in some sort of project he had going. This was to keep him active and possibly provide some money.

Two films he had appeared in just one year before Glen or Glenda stand out as being worse than anything Wood could have ever concocted: Old Mother Riley Meets the Vampire (aka Vampire over London, My Son the Vampire, King Robot, The Vampire and the Robot, ad nausem) and Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla (aka The Boys From Brooklyn).

The titles of these films alone could warn anyone away from a theater showing them. Old Mother Riley Meets the Vampire (released or escaped in the US in 1962), came about at a time when Bela was being shamelessly exploited by the Gordons, Richard and Alex. William 'One Shot' Beaudine, director of Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla, has subsequently been derided in print by Warren as well as the Medveds. How many remember Arthur Lucan, aka, Old Mother Riley? How many remember Duke Mitchell and Sammy Petrillo, the Brooklyn boys in Brooklyn Gorilla?

ZC Note: Just us bad movie buffs, at least, remember. And I'm from Brooklyn!

Joe Dante’s Dante’s Inferno
And Other Worse Things
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Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster (1965)
By Professor Kinema

November 28, 2011 / Movies (Bad), Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

Nov 28 2011

by Professor Kinema

Since the name, as well as the basic premise, of Frankenstein was in the public domain, it turned up in film titles generally synonymous with the word "Monster." Throughout the classic Universal series the name was alternately given to the descendants (sons, daughters, grandchildren, and distant relatives) of the original mad doctor/creator as well as to the undying creature itself. It was also a name familiar enough to attract moviegoers. This would seem to explain why Frankenstein (in name only) turned up in Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster.

In this film, Frankenstein is a robotic astronaut–an Astrobot–named Col Frank Saunders (Robert Reilly). The generic sounding "Space Monster" proves to be a caged beast doing the bidding of pseudo-humanoid aliens. Since these aliens have a mega destructive plan for Earthlings, they all could be considered Space Monsters. Their plan also involves kidnapping a a number of nubile women to be used as breeding stock. Hopefully, their offspring wouldn't inherit the obviously poorly fitted skullcaps that adorn the male aliens' heads.

The alien invaders have names like Princess Marcuzan (referred to only as 'Princess') and Nadir (a name that could appropriately mean "the pits?"). The Frankenstein/robot element functions ultimately as the hero and savior, in a truly surreal combination of characters and plot elements, topped of with genuinely horrendous and amateurish makeup work, setting the scene for a cultish film. It's all presented '…in Futurama,' to boot.

At the end of the trailer for Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster, an announcer states it's "…in Futurama," but the only other mention of Futurama turns up in the opening credits as "Futurama Entertainment Corporation Presents." The end credits mention "Interiors Photographed at Seneca Studios, Hempstead, New York." The exteriors were lensed in Puerto Rico.

At the beginning of his career, a young James Karen plays Dr. Adam Steele. This is his premier feature film. Staying primarily a TV and stage actor he would go on to appear in over 80 movies (to date) including Poltergeist, and The Return of the Living Dead (Parts I & II), and also be a spokesman for Pathmark.

Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster was initially released on a double bill with Curse of the VooDoo. Space Shield Eye Protectors were given to lucky first-run patrons (as long as supplies lasted). Presumably these eye protectors could also be used to protect the eyes from any VooDoo Curses. The film had several re-releases, turning up with titles like Duel of the Space Monsters, Frankenstein Meets the Spacemen, Marte Invade a Puerto Rico and Mars Attacks Puerto Rico (and not Hempstead, NY?). The only mention these space monsters are from Mars is found in the shot of a newspaper headline, which reads, "Earth Scientists Warn of Martian Threat."

A four page promo feature of Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster turned up in Famous Monsters of Filmland #39, June 1966. The article states this film was chosen as the lead-off film at the (prestigious) 1965 Science Fiction Film Festival in Trieste.

An archival print exists in the Museum of Modern Art's film collection. A short article in the New York Times, January 1, 2010, states, "The impaired cognition of New Year's Weekend make's it an ideal time to encounter Robert Gaffney's enjoyable, goofy drive-in movie here in an improbable screening at the Museum of Modern Art."

It was the final entry in the museum's series titled Nuts and Bolts: Machine Made Man in Films From the Collection.

Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster (1965)
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The Beast With A Million Eyes
By Professor Kinema

September 26, 2011 / Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

Sep 26 2011

One interestingly unique little film from the 1950s that I've always had an affection for is The Beast with a Million Eyes (1955). The original ad art featured a never-never creature with a body containing an endless array of eyes that disappeared off the edge of the poster. It was hyped as "filmed for Wide Screen in Terror-Scope." Since this film was promoted and sold before it was ever filmed, one can assume the 'Wide Screen and Terror-Scope' elements were there from the beginning. This same line appeared in the later printed lobby cards, which consisted of stills from the finished production. All showings that I've seen have been in the normal 1:66 to 1 format. The IMdB lists the 'official' format as 1:37 to 1, not really a 'wide screen' and surely not anything that could be recognized as being in any sort of 'terror-scope.' On the other hand I haven't heard of anyone expressing disappointment over not being thrilled by something that was not in any sort of 'terror-scope.'

If this little opus occupies any place in film history it would be for one main fact; it contains the very first Paul Blaisdell cinematic creature.

The premier issue of Fantastic Monsters of the Films (1962) features an article documenting the creation of this creature; 'Little Hercules.' The copy of the article emphasizes " …we (the monster makers) do not always work on Million Dollar Movies, and we do not take home Million Dollar Paychecks. Often we have to work within limited funds in a budgeted amount of time." Not mentioned is the actual amount of money Blaisdell did in fact recieve for his work: $400 – half of which was spent on materials. In a series of step-by-step illustrations the creation of the model unfolds. Materials mentioned for the construction of the model were modeling clay and liquid latex rubber. Other materials listed, for a generic background structure, include chicken mesh wire and plaster of paris. Randy Palmer's affectionate book Paul Blaisdell, Monster Maker (McFarland, 1997) mentions the additional materials needed to complete the model; small plastic eyes, plastic fangs, rubber lizard tails for antennae and wire hangers for the bat-like wings.

…

The Beast With A Million Eyes
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The Beast With A Million Eyes
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Professor Kinema’s
Gimme A Movie Gimmick Time

September 2, 2011 / Professor Kinema Archives / Leave a Comment

Sep 2 2011

from Professor Kinema

The recent release of Spy Kids: All the Time in the World in 4D (the entire film's title) harks back to the days of the bogus promotional gimmicks. This is all presented in 'Aroma-Scope.' A check of the film's official web page doesn't give an explaination as to what 'Aroma-Scope' can be. Maybe the alleged 4th dimension contains a variety of aromas? We're also informed that, via the film's posters, 'the 4th dimension is free!'

Here are a few other 'technical innovation' favs that come to mind:

Encino Man (1992) – was promoted, in print, as 'A Chillin' New Comedy in Full Neandervision.'

Blood Sucking Freaks (aka The Incredible Torture Show) (1978) – was filmed in 'Ghoul-O-Vision.'

Swingtail (1969) – was in 3D and 'Cosmovision.'

The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!? (1964) — was filmed in 'Bloody-Vision,' and 'Hallucinogenic Hypnovision.' The latter was a spinning black wheel with a white spiral on it. It appears when Madame Estrella hypnotizes her victims. On posters it was hyped as presented in 'TerrorRama.'

The Hypnotic Eye (1960) — patrons were given Hypnotic Eye Balloons to enable them to enjoy the thrills of 'HypnoMagic.'

Orgy of the Dead (1965) – was 'in Gorgeous and Shocking Astravision and Sexicolor.'

X, the Man With X-Ray Eyes (1963) – was in SpectaRama.'

House on Bare Mountain (1962) – was in 'Rawcolor and Sinscope.'

Konga (1961) — was in 'Spectamation.'

Horrors of the Black Museum (1959) – was in 'HypnoVista (You Can't Resist It!).'

The Angry Red Planet (1959) — was in 'Cinemagic.'

The Smallest Show on Earth (1957) – was in 'Upside-Down Scope.'

The Case of the Mukkinese Battle Horn (1956) – was filmed in 'Schizophrenoscope.'

And the ultimate (or minimalist) technique hype:

(The Adventures of) Rat Pfink a(nd) Boo Boo (1966) — was filmed in 'Regularscope Black & White.'

Professor Kinema’s
Gimme A Movie Gimmick Time Read More »