Dissecting Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (1969)

In the continuing tradition of celebrating Halloween, I wrote a new Hub on a classic 1960's British horror film - Hammer's Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed.

Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed is -- arguably -- the second best Hammer Frankenstein film after the original Curse of Frankenstein. FMBD was a TV staple in the 1970's and 1980's on UHF and was notorious for its incredibly grim and downbeat subject matter. Hammer Frankenstein films were only marginally profitable in comparison to the Dracula films and would even be outperformed by the Karnstein vampire trilogy. The offbeat Doctor Jekyll and Sister Hyde would be a big (surprise) hit for Hammer, but the Frankenstein films just didn't ignite the box office. The next two films in the series The Horror of Frankenstein and Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell were a major step down in quality from FMBD...what a shame.

Please click the above link to read the full Hub - its a good one!

Famous Monsters of Filmland 40th Anniversary Filmbook Remembered

Happy Halloween!

So much I could say, but time is short.

Classic horror movies receive a lot of airtime on cable in October, which is a good thing. Several rare classics do not always get the same appreciation of more well-known features. Some movies may only end up airing during Halloween. Setting October aside to appreciate those classic creepy films is definitely a worthwhile endeavor.

Yesterday, I was in the bookstore and came across the new issue of the third version of Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine. Fittingly, it was a tribute to the late, great Forrest J. Ackermann.

In the late 1990s, the second version of the magazine -- published by Ray Ferry -- was released. A 40th-anniversary film book was published. Here are my thoughts on it - in video form.

AND PLEASE CHECK OUT MY KINDLE BOOK ON THE UNIVERSAL CLASSICS:

Beyond Good and Evil and Greed in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)

What more could be written about the themes of greed-induced self-destruction in the John Huston/Humphrey Bogart classic The Treasure of the Sierra Madre? Perhaps it would be best to look at a few lines of dialogue from the film and ponder on the words.

"Do you believe the old man who was doing all the talking....said the other night about gold changing a man's soul so he ain't the same kind of a guy he was before finding it?"

"I guess that all depends on the man."

"That's exactly what I say. Gold don't carry any curse with it. It all depends on whether or not the guy who finds it is the right guy. The way I see it, gold can be as much of a blessing as a curse"

Greed is often viewed as an abstract, a "Deadly Sin" that controls those whom the feelings of avarice envelope. Greed is not an abstract concept. Nor is it something that takes hold and controls anyone. Greed is a description of the attitudes and actions of human beings. Greed comes in many levels of severity and can reach a point where the "sin" becomes a massive personality disorder.

Greed could be an asset "depending on the man." A greedy person who saves and works and works to have security in life cannot be faulty. Such a person has a strong work ethic and fear for personal security - traits that were likely developed over time based on life experiences.

The character of Dobbs appears like a man who descends into greed-induced, self-destructive paranoia after finding gold and being overly consumed with greed. Is this so?

"Gold don't carry any curse with it. It all depends on whether or not the guy who finds it is the right guy."

Dobbs likely embodied always embodied the terrible traits that consumed him throughout the film. He possessed those traits inwardly and, when he discovered the gold, his avarice, selfishness, and paranoia began to express themselves outwardly.

This is why the other characters do not get ruined by the gold. The reflected the "right person[s]" who could be entrusted with the great responsibility of discovering the untold riches of lost and hidden gold.

PLEASE CHECK OUT MY COLLECTION OF ESSAYS ON AMAZON KINDLE:

The Tortured Memories of The Pawnbroker (1965)

The opening scenes of director Sidney Lumet's The Pawnbroker (1965) display sweeping cinematography not often seen in contemporary films. The wide shots of the German landscape of the 1930s capture the beauty of the countryside. The cinematography hint there is a great deal to the world. So much to look forward to. Sol Nazerman has a wonderful wife and two children. His life is idyllic. And then the storybook world ends.

The same cinematography returns in the next scene to reveal the Long Island of the 1960s. The growing suburban landscape is vast and lonely. Sol Nazerman is much older. He sits in a chair by himself. Although he lives with family members, he keeps his misanthropic distance. Nazerman was close with his wife and children. He is not interested in being close with anyone again.

The symbolism of the suburban landscape is impossible to miss. In a mostly subtle film, the symbolism is jarring and obvious. The layout of the houses looks like a military-style prison camp. Although he left the camp, he never really left.

The Existential Prison

The symbolism is sadly appropriate for the one-time university professor. He spent years in a Nazi concentration camp and lost the wife and children he loved. Physically, Nazerman - brilliantly played by Rod Steiger in a legendary performance - was able to survive the camp, but he was stripped of his humanity and freedom. He survived but is no longer alive. Nazerman is mentally trapped in his own prison and by his new lot in life. As the proprietor of a pawn shop, Nazerman deals with the lost and those who skirt the law. His new career is a prison of sorts.

Nazerman may have chosen such a loathsome career path because doing so would have made it impossible for him to have any meaningful or serious interactions with others. He doesn't want them. This is not to say he doesn't need them. Sol Nazerman doesn't want social interactions.

Distance. Distance has a relationship with isolation. In the opening scenes at the pawn shop, Sol Nazerman keeps a massive distance from the customers who walk into his store. A sad sack, a cheery woman, and a rambling man looking for conversation are all ignored by Sol Nazerman. He doesn't want to interact with others. He prefers self-isolation. Sol doesn't like isolation. No one could. He has made a pact with his loneliness.

"I'm not particularly concerned with the future." These are the words he gives to a social worker collecting money for charity.

Memories of the Walking Dead

Sol maintains a relationship with Tessie, the widow of his friend Reuben Reuben was another person viciously killed in the concentration camp. The relationship is a ghost of the past. Sol cannot bring his wife back or recreate what once existed. Neither can the lonely Tessie. Sol Nazerman's attempts to end his loneliness through brief respites with the widow do nothing more than creating a burning, searing reminder of his isolation and loss. Nazerman continues to repeat the vicious cycle time and time. Perhaps he has the feeling things may sometimes change with the next visit. Things never change. The future does not change for Nazerman because the past cannot be changed.

Tessie's ill father Mendel has utter contempt for Sol Nazerman's approach to life.

“Share the dignity of death with those who really died….can you feel pain?”


“No.”


“You breathe. You eat. You walk. You make money. You take a dream and give a dollar.”


“I survived.”


“A coward’s survival and at a price. No passion. No pity….The walking dead.”


Mendel realizes the story Sol has to tell could be an inspiring one. Sol Nazerman has the potential to be a professor once again and educate the world. He won’t though. So, Mendel has his contempt.

Holding onto (and Forgetting) the Past

Mendel does not see the process Sol Nazerman has crafted. He has shut down all his emotions in order to blunt the pain, suffering, and trauma he feels. Nazerman has created a wall around himself to crush and suppress his emotions. This way, he is able to survive through life, albeit in a misanthropic, isolated way.

In fairness to Nazerman, his brutal flashbacks force his isolation. He does create a further psychological barrier by looking down on the lost souls who enter his pawn shop. Others do not realize that Nazerman suffers from a brutal post-traumatic stress disorder and is plagued by flashbacks. He has to keep a distance to keep the flashbacks brought on by visual associations at bay.

The strange obsession with money furthers Nazerman's goal of isolating himself. By concentrating all his efforts and time on making money, Nazerman can ignore other aspects of his life. He really doesn't care about the money. Earning money takes up all his time, which leaves him with no time to deal with other aspects of reality. Making money is a drug to numb pain and feelings.

When a drug addict appears in the shop to pawn a radio, Nazerman shows nonchalant disgust towards the young man. Doing so is little more than a reflection of his own self-loathing upon looking over the pawn counter to a mirror of himself.

*****

PLEASE CHECK OUT MY COLLECTION OF ESSAYS ON AMAZON KINDLE:

*****

Anger at the world fuels Sol Nazerman's self-loathing, but another emotional state is at the core of his feelings. The pawnbroker is swallowed by guilt. Nazerman feels horrific guilt over being the person who survived the concentration camp. He wonders why he wasn't the person taken away instead of his wife and children. The guilt turns into inner anger and hate. Nazerman is punishing himself for what happened in the camp.

And So Comes Renewal

Sol Nazerman, the pawnbroker, becomes someone who can be forgiven for all his misanthropic tendencies when we discover the core root of his pain. His wife was sexually abused in the concentration camp, and Nazerman carries the guilt of not being able to help her with him. We learn he has been laundering money for the mob, his morals cast aside due to his hatred for society. Upon discovering he has been laundering money derived from prostitution, Nazerman wants nothing - nothing at all - to do with the scheme. The pawnbroker is shocked back into humanity, and, while not too late, his return is still late.

Sol Nazerman realizes he lost many years of his life. He knows Mendel was right in his assessment of the pawnbroker's self-imposed miserable lot in life. Can he change? Truly change? There will always be a level of ambiguity to any answers.

 

Post-Script on The Pawnbroker

The 1960's and 1970's were both daring times for the motion picture industry. While television would slowly descend into sitcom and other formulas out of budget necessities, the motion picture industry was exploring into very experimental territory. Themes barely - or never - touched previously were being brought to the forefront. The controversies associated with The Pawnbroker were massive and, although the film was a mild box office success, its impact was profound. The Pawnbroker contributed mightily to the end of the Production Code and the Legion of Decency and helped spawn the MPAA rating system. 

Ironically, while television has become more daring and experimental these days, the motion picture industry is more formula-driven than ever before. Truly thought-provoking films such as The Pawnbroker are exceedingly rare.

Edward G. Robinson: The Small Man Playing It Big In Key Largo

"This rain should cool things off, but it don't."

So says Edward G. Robinson in Key Largo.

Things don't cool off in Key Largo. They heat up.

The war hero returns from the battle only to discover a new fight at home. This plot convention has been used in a number of exploitation action movies, although it was arguably done best in the 1948 Humphrey Bogart/Edward G. Robinson classic.

A lot more is going on in the film that simply setting up a fight between Bogart's Frank McCloud, a war veteran, and Robinson's Johnny Rocco, a vicious gangster. Trapped in the microcosm of a hotel during a hurricane, the war hero, the innocent family, and the gangster crew, the motivations behind Rocco's evil are slowly revealed.

As the drama plays out in the hotel, we learn Rocco is a man who is driven by his own twisted ambitions and greed. The greed is not rooted in procuring huge amounts of material things, but to quell a harsh personality disorder and an inferiority complex. Bogart's character is able to battle the villain by slowly getting under his skin.

"He knows what he wants....He wants more...don't you Rocco?"

When asked if he will ever have enough, Rocco responds:

"Well, I never have....."

Bogart's McCloud reveals what he wants more than anything. "A world in which there is no place for Johnny Rocco." Ironically, when first given the chance to kill Rocco, McCloud throws a gun away not wanting to lower himself to the level of the gangster.

McCloud later makes the revelation that fighting Rocco is not his battle. He has no desire to put his life on the line to stop the gangster or get in the thug's way. McCloud has nothing but searing contempt for the gangster, but he isn't going to risk  - and likely lose - his life trying to stop Rocco.

Or will he? Perhaps McCloud simply does not want to give Rocco the satisfaction of seeing him as a "big deal". Rocco is a driven man, but he is driven by a desire for status. Criminal endeavors allow this sense of status, undeserved as it may be.

A world without people like Johnny Rocco would not be like anything found in the history of human civilization. There are always going to be petty people whose insecurities form the basis of their antisocial behavior. And Rocco's antisocial tendencies are all on display in the dramatics playing out in the hotel.

Within the microcosm of what takes place in a Key Largo, a small man like Johnny Rocco gives great insight into sociological (and sociopathic) problems in the world outside the hotel's doors.

Don't Know Where We're Going Down Two-Lane Blacktop

You are there, but you are never really there.

Such an esoteric, minimalist  statement could be one of many open-to-interpretation themes found in the 1971 road movie cult classic Two-Lane Blacktop. Two-Lane Blacktop is so narratively thin, viewers are able to infuse any theme they wish. Fans and critics have been doing so since the film was first released, although the box office failure gained most of its acclaim decades after its original release.

The Road Movie/Faux Documentary

The plot of Two-Lane Blacktop is fairly simple. A long-distance race takes place between a crew of young persons named The Driver (James Taylor), The Mechanic (Dennis Wilson), and The Girl (Laurie Bird) and their 1955 Chevy and a middle-aged man dubbed GTO (Warren Oates), the driver of a 1970 GTO.

The Easy Rider inspirations in the film are obvious. The alienation in the often dialogue-sparse feature is even more pronounced and the characters are decidedly less charming, humorous, and likeable. We always hear the noise of engines and the road with clear distinction. The characters only seem to speak sporadically and rarely with distinction.

The minimalism in the film seeks allows events to unfold in a slice of life manner as opposed to adhering to a more generic dramatic structure. That is why the film flopped when it was first released and why it has risen to classic status these days.

Two-Lane Blacktop is a documentary-like film that captures the proceedings in a fly-on-the-wall manner. The road movie captures slices of life created by drifters who simply want to race their cars. The races are sometimes against other cars and always an attempt to get as far away from society as fast as possible.

Flies on the Wall, Flies in the Movie

The viewer is traditionally disconnected from the events of a film. Audiences watch what unfolds on the screen. They are "there" in the movie theater, but they are not "there" on the screen. The characters in Two-Lane Blacktop aren't there either. They have been divorced from the world and only seem to be peripherally part of things. (The audience is not comprised of the only flies on the wall) Drifting from place to place, new environment to new environment, allowing Route 66 to be their simple guide. Just follow the road to a new location.

As the song goes, the road goes on forever. No matter where the characters travel, they find no home. As in Easy Rider, there is a rejections of society and a desire for a more anarchistic existence.

Emotional Disconnects and Attempts to Connect

Two-Lane Blacktop differentiates itself further from Easy Rider because their is no bonding between characters in Two-Lane Blacktop. Instead, there is constant friction and everyone keeps everyone else emotionally at arm's length. The rare extended scenes of dialogue highlight this notion.

                                                                 DRIVER
                                                        You hear the cicadas?

                                                 (Long, long, uncomfortable pause)

                                                                 GIRL
                                                         Yeah.

                                                                 DRIVER
                                                          ......You talk about survival those are some freaky
                                                          bugs. The come out of the ground every seven years...
                                                          {to mate and die}.

                                                                 GIRL
                                                          You bore me.

The sound of the cicadas is much louder and clearer to hear and understand than the characters speaking the likely improvised dialogue. The characters and their dialogue are cast adrift in the events of the film. From a dialogue perspective, he cicadas chirping in the background are just as important at The Driver's musings. That is to say, his dialogue is not all that important. The action of the race and the dynamics of the scenery are important.

The motif repeats itself in the next scene in which the song "Me and Bobby McGee" drowns out most dialogue....until the dialogue switches to a wager for ownership of the loser's car in a race.

Old Again, Young Again, What's The Difference?

The characters are a byproduct of traveling and racing. Both actions help establish who the characters are. In some ways, the constant travel keeps the characters from being who they are as much as it allows them to become nameless, identity-less creatures who are byproducts of their road excursions.

The race between The Drive, The Girl, and The Mechanic vs. GTO appears, superficially, to be symbolic of a youth vs. elders theme. It really isn't. GTO shares virtually everything in common with the other three. He has the same interests, ethics, and lives the same life. GTO simply reflects the direction the others are headed. Since GTO has not arrived anywhere, he becomes the personification of the road never ending.

This is not to say there is no tension or conflict. The two parties are competing against one another. Neither are heroes or villains, although some do have their nefarious moments.

To defeat GTO in the race, The Driver lies to the police claiming he was brutally reckless on the road. Eventually, GTO catches up with The Driver.

                                                                 DRIVER
                        We just wanted to let you know were right along with you
                        on the road. Were all in this together, right?

GTO is not amused at being played and blows up. Was he really being played though? He loosens up and tries to give some experienced advice to The Driver.

                                                                  GTO
                        I been scouting locations for a down home movie on fast cars,
                        but the real race is more interesting.

At first, this seems as if GTO is trying to bond with his young friend/foe. In a way, it is. There is a warning present as well.

                                                                 GTO
                       You can't be a nomad forever unless you can flow
                       with it like me.

The statement still seems like an endorsement of life on the road. Although he is extolling the virtues of living the nomadic way, GTO's life is not exactly one of glib grandeur.

                                                               GTO
                      Everything fell apart on me. My job, my family, everything.

                                                              DRIVER
                     I don't want to hear about it.

GTO, we learn, has issues with alcohol. His life of adventure, of "bouncing from coast to coast like a rubber ball" is an attempt at escaping reality. And he really has nowhere to go.

We don't know what the younger ones are escaping from. Perhaps they are lost in a general sense of rebellion common with the youth at the time. In an era before social media and virtual, simulated lives and personas, the existence of an outlaw was attractive. The life was doubly attractive for those interested in escaping. Driver, Mechanic, and The Girl are looking to escape abstracts like "the system". GTO wishes to escape a failed family life and career.

Regardless, they are both seeking escape and the idea has its dire faults. Running away from a problem has a tendency to leave the problem unsolved.

Raised Eyebrows, Groucho Marx, and the Curtain Call on Laughter

A cliché of a cliché of a cliché of a cliché goes something to the effect of "Things don't always turn out how you planned." The final years of the life of the iconic Groucho Marx probably were nothing like the sharp-witted comedian troupe leader envisioned. Known by millions, Marx's last years entailed living a life of mostly solitude behind the four walls of a California estate. His career in show business was over, and, barring the occasional get-togethers with Hollywood friends, Marx's twilight years were spent chiefly waxing on the glory days of yesteryear.

We have a document of those days in the form of an amazing book.

Raised Eyebrows: My Years Inside Groucho's House by Steve Stoliar presents an intriguing look at the last years of the iconic comedian. Stoliar was a massive fan of the Marx Brothers as a young man, and he eventually met his iconic screen hero after arranging an early 1970's screening of Animal Crackers. The scratchy, beaten-up 16mm print screening was a very special event. At the time, Animal Crackers was a Marx Brothers film unavailable for television syndication due to a rights issue. With the sold-out screening, doors were opened, and contacts made leading to Stoliar working as Groucho's archivist at the comedian's home from 1974 to 1977.

The autobiography/biography delivers a sad glimpse into the final years of the lonely screen and stage icon. This long-retired beloved figure still had legions of fans thanks to constant reruns of Marx Brothers movies on television, but the fame connected to a life he no longer lived.

Rob Zombie optioned the book for a film version, but the project appears stalled. Maybe the adaptation will rise out of "development hell" and become a realized project one day.

Cover for the book by Steve Stoliar

Retelling the book's highlights here on this blog is unnecessary and would not do the outstanding and compelling work justice. Just buy the book. Read the whole story.

What can be said about the work is it shows, in the microcosm of the last days of Groucho Marx, we learn a great life can come to a bittersweet end. Groucho sat on top of the entertainment world on stage, screen, and television. And then, one day, he got old. While it is wonderful to live a long life, Marx had to accept the world had changed around him, and he was too aged to make any transitions into the new entertainment landscape. Solace in personal relationships was not to be either.

Outstanding radio interview with Stoliar.

Raised Eyebrows is a proverbial cautionary tale for all of us. No one has to be a world-famous comedian to reach the end of days in a sad state. Faded professional and personal glory affect people of all walks of life and backgrounds. And the impact is going to be bear a considerable weight on the shoulders of anyone who experiences it. Raised Eyebrows may focus on the particulars of the final years of Groucho Marx, but the tale can be found in the home of many untold millions of people.

Morricone's Masterful Emotions in The Ecstasy of Gold

Ennio Morricone's body of work as a composer is among the most impressive in all of cinematic history. He made a ballyhooed return in The Hateful Eight, but his title score for The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly will always be his most well-known work. The main theme to the film is, arguably, the second-best musical piece in the spaghetti western epic.

The Ecstasy of Gold is a strangely emotional musical work. Hints at "the anxiety of hope" (for lack of a better description) are found in the opening of the music. The tempo picks up to a faster pace that highlights the adventurous aspects of the film, and then the tempo slows. Confusion sets in and the sounds reflect finding gold, its fortunes, and its treasures is far harder than anticipated.

The Ecstasy of Gold is a fantastic, sweeping piece. Metallica was suitably impressed as they covered it. Here is the original version.

Nice Screenplay Character Touches in Night Moves (1975)

Budding screenwriters have a tendency to throw a lot of unnecessary things into a script. The idea at work is the more elements added to the screenplay, the more profound the plot, characters, and themes will be. Maybe that works now and then, but the common result is usually a muddled one. Too much tossed into a script has a tendency to create a massive mess.

One of the best film noirs of the 1970s is Arthur Penn's classic Night Moves. The 1975 feature was a vehicle for Gene Hackman. Like The Conversation (1974) and Prime Cut (1972), Night Moves did not reap massive ticket sales at the box office despite being an outstanding feature.

A lot could be written about Night Moves. In keeping with the theme of this particular entry, we can focus on simplicity in the outstanding screenplay.

Gene Hackman's character is not down and out financially, but spiritually. Greater days are behind him.

When JFK died, Moseby reveals he was in the middle of his stellar NFL career. When Robert died, he was staking out the home of an adulterer trying to get pictures for a divorce case. Gene Hackman plays Harry Moseby, a former professional NFL star who now works as a private investigator. The character is mired in sadness of glory lost. In one brief scene that takes place in the darkness of night, Leslie Warren's character Paula asks him where he was when the Kennedy brothers were shot.


In only three years, Moseby went from a superstar to a pathetic sad sack. No one feels more ashamed about the fall from glory than Moseby. Hackman gets the pain of his character across brilliantly. Screenwriter Alan Sharp deserves a lot of praise for coming up with this brilliant script point.

Heart, Soul, and Special Effects on a Budget: Silent Running (1972)

Silent Running (1972) remains well-deserving of its cult status. The feature was a product of a cinematic time capsule - the early 1970's Hollywood new wave movement.

A little context here.

Hollywood's Young Mavericks

Easy Rider (1969) was a massive success (Will we ever see the four-hour rough cut?), and studios allowed young directors free reign to produce experimental movies. The idea was to let the "older crowd" at the studios get out of the way since younger directors had a better shot at connecting with younger audiences. Ironically, a number of those films were flops and have become forgotten. The science-fiction genre, mercifully, houses fervent fans who cherish its history. Silent Running is never to be forgotten. Bruce Dern's performance is a memorable (albeit nuanced) one, and the look of the film's set and art direction was amazing for its time. However, not everyone sees it this way due to certain dated aspects of the film.

The Future By Way Of The 1970s

And then some mock the future-by-way-of-1972 look of the space crafts. The advanced space station of 100 years in the future is operated by, essentially, computers found in a long-outdated Radio Shack catalog. The clothes and hairstyles look like 1972 styles make a comeback in 2072. Yes, Silent Running is a very 70's - early 70's - era movie.

The word "cheap" may be unfairly lobbied at the model kits used to create the future space world. CGI was science-fiction and not science/media-fact at this time when Superman: The Movie suffered in development hell because no special effects team could come up with a credible way to make Superman fly realistically. The model kits are not convincing by modern standards, but they possess something modern CGI effects lack. There is both heart and passion to these models.

Building The Genre Via Model Kits

In the early 1970s, producing a movie such as Silent Running was not easy - or even desirable. The strange future worlds of science-fiction were few and far between on the big screen. When such films did arrive in theaters and drive-ins, an amazing sense of wonder overtook the (sadly, sometimes small) audiences who turned out for these films. Today, everyone knows how special effects are produced. The wonder is not there. Special effects are taken for granted.

Little details went into the design of the exterior space station and the surrounding ships. These details bring the models to life and, in turn, help create the believable isolated world Bruce Dern finds himself in.

The look does not have to be perfect, but it needs to be captivating within the presentation context. Yes, there is an ever-present dated look to the models, but the dated nature does capture the sentiments of the times. Even though the film takes place in the future, the themes are rooted in Vietnam War-era anxieties and upheavals. Linking the future to the 1970s through minimalist sets and props helps maintain a connection to the themes and the time the feature debuted.

Special effects that overwhelm the senses tend to take people out of a movie. A CGI-infused war on the sensory system leaves little time for the audience to digest a film. Other wondrous aspects of a film can end up being lost. Though minimalist in so many ways, the plastic and glue creating the interstellar environment of Silent Running help keep the film's focus on its characters and themes. Bruce Dern and his environmental laments are never lost in a sea of computer-generated effects.